#Not a single person even expressed kindness after the apology

[cottoncandysecretlair]

It's wild how on one side of my dash I see people talking about the real issues of transmasc erasure, "you're taking our lesbians away" terf rhetoric, and the ways that trans men are expected to accept ostracisation within leftist spaces without ever advocating for themselves...

Meanwhile on the other side, I see lots of "The MRA's are back, anyone that speaks about transmasc issues are transmisogynists, if you didn't immediately decide transandrophobia is an invalid concept then you're a bigot" type hysteria and it all just pisses me off.

Like trans men will spend their entire life til now perceived as women, expected to be quiet, expected to obey and be a resource to others without taking up too much space or having needs themselves. And upon realizing they're trans, finding their community, and thinking maybe this is a place they can find some modicum of comfort, the community says "no."

We don't want your voice or your struggles, because it doesn't fall in line with the rhetoric. It's not a part of the theory.

SJ theory generalizes, that's the nature of it. It's used to describe society as a whole, and how systemic oppressions operate. Broad academic theory isn't meant to for you to apply it precisely the same way to the individual.

That's what being intersectional is supposed to be about! You're not supposed to say "well systemically men are oppressors, so this man I just met is actively looking to oppress me" when you meet a homeless black man in a wheel chair.

I'm just so tired of the dynamic where in leftist spaces we can't share our stories and pain because they have to align with our ideas of who's the oppressor or not.

To this day, I feel terrified to open up about the fact that an older woman sexually assaulted me as a teen, because I'm so afraid someone will say I'm just targeting lesbians, or that my story promotes predatory stereotypes and shouldn't be shared. I can't talk about shit like that because I know that outside my closest friends, others in leftists spaces don't want to hear about that.

This is all over the place but I'm just so frustrated. Seeing people that have been boiling over, keeping their mouth shut, playing nice even when it's unfair to them, daring to open their mouths to speak all the while trying to be careful, only to still get attacked and made into bigots.

It's like there's no amount of bowing and saying your troubles are meaningless and insisting other people have it worse that will let you be "allowed" to talk about what hurts you.

We're supposed to be past one-upmanship and oppression olympics, it's not about who's had it worse it's about what we can fucking do about it TOGETHER.

And that means being able to drop your academic theory and shit to engage with the people in your community as fucking human beings. That means being able to seriously consider the validity of criticism instead of knee-jerk rejecting it.

Also please stop accusing literally anyone talking about intra-community bullying of talking over people being killed or shit like that, you know damn well that people are capable of caring about multiple issues

[sttoru]

clan leader!satoru, whose smile isn’t actually a. . . smile. it serves as a gentle (yet not-so-gentle) threat to whomever it is dedicated to. a lot of the gojo clan members, as well as members from other noble clans, have heard of that infamous smile and know of its true meaning.

ever since marrying you, that smile often finds its way onto his lips. it’s not because of you, but rather because of the ones interacting with you. satoru didn’t ever expect to feel so possessive about someone he initially didn’t care for.

a marriage of convenience is all that your relationship was for. it purely existed for the sake of a connection between two famous families. your first weeks together have been awkward. any form of affection - any touches or loving words - were for the sake of his image.

however that all was fated to change: satoru eventually found himself falling for his wife.

your kind personality, your subtle smiles, the embarrassed expression on your face whenever he teased you in front of others even if it was all a faux display- an act of being all lovey-dovey. your inner and outer beauty was slowly becoming more apparent to the white-haired man.

you don’t know when it started. you can’t recall why satoru is suddenly acting affectionate even behind closed doors. usually, he’d drop the act the second you’re in your chambers. now he continues to compliment you, pepper you with chaste kisses as long as you allowed him to… even refer to you as his ‘dear’, ‘pretty girl’ or ‘sweetheart’ to your face like it’s nothing.

you shrug off your own guards and maids when they curiously inform you about their lord’s sudden change of personality, which was supposedly all because of you.

“ah, my wife,” satoru’s voice echoes above the loud chatter in the main hall. you turn your head and find your heart racing for some reason as he addresses you in that gentle tone.

he makes his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving your face, even as other important figures try to catch his attention to talk business. “i was greatly worried about you,” your husband sighs.

a gloved hand cups your face and satoru leans in, his glossy lips inches from yours. you’d think this was part of the fake arrangement, but there’s this genuine hint of adoration behind his cerulean eyes that you cannot ignore.

“i— my apologies,” you murmur softly, eyes darting around the room while you try to ignore the loud thumping of your heart. “i was simply talking to one of the guards,” you explain and nod your head to the bulky man standing next to you.

the guard respectfully bows to satoru the second you introduce him. your husband doesn’t respond for a single second, his fingers twitching lightly at his side. he can’t stand the thought of you talking to another man while he isn’t around.

is it for your own safety? or is it because he’s jealous and immediately wants to get rid of any man who dares speak to his precious wife? perhaps it’s a mixture of both.

“i see,” satoru replies. his eyes darken for a second before he catches himself. the corners of his lips curl upwards, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

that familiar sight makes you nervous. you’ve seen it before, when your husband would subtly threaten others for whatever reason, while hiding his true feelings behind that smile.

“well,” satoru continues, his arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you against his side and places a kiss on top of your head while glaring at the guard through his white eyelashes.

“thank you for keeping my wife safe,” the clan leader says through that tight smile, trying to keep it as ‘genuine’ looking as possible. he has a reputation and image to uphold after all.

you’re about to say something, but are cut off as satoru adds another comment. “i’m here now, so you can return to your post.”

it isn’t a suggestion. it is an order— a command. a disguised threat.

the guard immediately picks up on the subtle hint and nods without saying a word before walking back to his spot at the doors. you can hear the faint whispers from others as they also seem to recognise that change in satoru’s demeanour.

it’s not like you’re totally oblivious to what’s happening either. you look up at satoru and place a hand on his chest, trying to catch his attention. “satoru,” you whisper his name.

the white-haired man immediately snaps out of it and excitedly shoots you that boyish smile of his instead of the fake, cold one he wore on his face just a second ago.

“you called, my dear?” satoru tilts his head, bringing a hand to rest over yours on his chest. your eyes widen a bit at the way he seems to relax and look at you with that same devoted gaze.

you don’t think it’s an act anymore. the words die on your tongue and you can’t recall what you wanted to say anymore. those sparkling blue eyes and charming smile have you rendered speechless.

“…it’s nothing,” you mutter under your breath. you have no clue how you’ve managed to turn that once, cocky, overly confident and cold-hearted ruler into a total softie for you. it’s something you still need to process yourself.

satoru doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, glaring at the men who pass by, shooting them that fake, threatening smile if they looked like they desired to converse with you.

you’re his wife, and that’s that. he silently wonders when you’ll realise that he actually fell for you. perhaps you are already aware of it, but hide it from him on purpose.

whatever the case is, satoru will make sure that you know his true feelings for you. one day he will tell you those three words explicitly— if it wasn’t obvious enough through his sudden change of behavior.

[thebluester2020]

[GI] Kinktober Day 10: "Exhibitionism"

Summary: After your stunt with Tartaglia, you are forced to deal with the repercussions of Capitano's not-so-well-hidden jealousy.

Warning(s): Reader is fucked in front of an audience, Dub-Con, Degradation, (Probably a whole slew of other warnings that I can’t think of rn).

Side Note(s): Okay so—I switched it up last minute to exhibitionism because I realized that I get confused easily between that and voyeurism (+ I have more of a love for exhibitionism anyway).

Also, this is kinda an unofficial pt. 2 to the "Sharing" fic I posted? I mostly kept to the same "storyline"(?) because it was easier on the brain for me.

Your relationship with Capitano has been in a...weird spot, to the least, ever since that day between yourself, Tartaglia, and Capitano.

At the end of it all, the men didn't even get what they had originally wanted. You were far too fucked-dumb to even decipher who was who, much less come up with enough letters capable of yelling out a name. But, for the sake of being tired himself, Tartaglia had admitted "defeat" and carried on his merry way! Eventually, he left Capitano's war band and continued on his own personal mission, leaving you behind and working for Capitano permanently like you were originally supposed to.

But it's been awkward.

Capitano was curt with you, only speaking to you when he needed to. If you were caught taking a moment to relax, you began to pray that Capitano wouldn't happen upon you, he'd only immediately order you to get back to work!

No longer did he greet you warmly and no longer did he seem to care about your well-being. When the entire war party moved, he no longer expected you to be by his side, nor did he constantly check to see if you were! You could've been at the very back of the party and he wouldn't have given a single damn.

You had a mind to call your boss out on his behavior, pull him aside, and ask what the issue was and...whether or not there was still something between you both.

Although, you already had a mind to think that any feelings that may have started to blossom had long since been crushed underneath heel and foot.

Until today that is, when you were in your tent and finishing up some reports.

. . .

You quickly rose to your feet when Capitano suddenly entered your tent, bowing your head as you murmured a respectful 'Lord Capitano' in greeting.

He responded with a gruff noise of acknowledgment. "There will be a feast held tonight," Capitano said.

Your brow cocked, a feast? You hadn't heard anything relating to a feast at all. "Our efforts and missions have been going smoothly, I figured it's overdue to reward everyone in this camp. Even you." You bit the inside of your cheek at the cold way he addressed you. Had you known that accepting Tartaglia's offer—that rogue ginger-headed charmer—would lead to such an awkward tension between you and Capitano, you would've never allowed Tartaglia to trick you!

"...That's...that's kind of you." You said before sighing.

He nodded his head before turning to leave, prompting you to quickly stop him. "M-My Lord," You started off. "About that day...are you still—"

"I'll be taking my leave,"

"Lord Capitano!" You said more firmly this time, walking around your desk and beginning to close the distance between the two of you. "You can't continue to avoid me, n-not to mention treat me as I—" You stopped in your tracks when the first harbinger turned his head to look at you. And although you couldn't see his eyes, nor his expression behind that dark mask...the danger that oozed off of him. It made you audibly gulp as you took a few steps back.

You bowed your head in silent apology. "...You will come to my tent before the feast officially begins." Then, he walked out. A cold bead of sweat dripped down your neck at the vague order. Either it would be nothing aside from more work, Capitano deciding to kill you, or...hopefully, he'd finally get over his attitude and talk to you.

You couldn't stand how things were at the moment.

So, when the time finally arrived and the feast was ten minutes away from the beginning. You found yourself in Capitano's tent, your hands resting neatly in front of you as you stood at the entrance of his lavish tent. "My Lord, the feast will begin soon." You gently reminded him. "Shall I alert the soldiers of anything before it begins?" You continued.

You didn't receive a response until Capitano emerged from the covered part of his tent, adorned in the usual attire he wore when he appeared during important Fatui functions or battles. "No," He answered. "Simply follow me." Your brow rose as he walked past you, but nonetheless, you dutifully followed after him outside and back into the steadily warming air thanks to the bonfire that had just been set up.

As the soldiers began to gather, however, Capitano clearing his throat before he broke out into an, admittedly, very admirable speech as he thanked and showed gratitude towards his soldiers. Certain things started to stand out to you as your eyes washed over the crowd. Such as...the doctors and nurses of the camp weren't present, surely they deserved some praise and appreciation too? Too many times have soldiers or even your boss himself had come into the camp injured from head to toe! They'd quickly patch them up and almost seem to perform magic, you've heard soldiers state that one doctor in particular was good at numbing the pain!

There were none of the cooks, blacksmiths or even the younger soldiers that were fresh into the party, tasked to simply stand aside and watch.

All this boiled down to this "feast" being composed of nothing more than the more experienced soldiers, simply leaving you with a number ranging around the hundreds.

As pieces started to merge together although...a heavy hand placed itself on your shoulder, and then, you tuned back into the conversation. "...You will all bear witness as to my secretary learning who she truly belongs to, hopefully with an audience, she will learn not to be so easy for others."

What had just happened?

. . .

"Apologize." Capitano gruffly ordered you as the loud sound of your squelching cunt echoed through the camp. Not even the whistling winds could muffle your desperate panting as Capitano fingered your soaked cunt, taking special care to not knick you with his claws. "Apologize for being such a desperate whore..." He hissed out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "...for being so easy to fuck, not even having the courtesy to quiet yourself down despite being in a camp full of my soldiers."

Your cheeks burned with shame as you could feel hundreds of eyes on you. You didn't know whether you wanted the soldiers to be disgusted at the sight and turn away or if...you preferred this in a sick way, although there were some women amongst the crowd, the heavy sound of panting amongst the men made you clench around nothing, your slick beginning to drip and run down from your cunt and onto Capitano's lap.

Something that the ever-vigilant Captain didn't miss.

"You shameless whore." He snarled in your ear, your body shuddering at the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing the skin on your ear. "You're getting even wetter at being watched?" The harbinger nearly had a mind to laugh at how your legs twitched, as if you wanted to curl into yourself at his cruel words. He almost allowed himself to feel bad, until he smelled how your arousal grew at his words.

Oh...so you liked this.

Well...that explained everything.

Slowly, he took his fingers away from your cunt, a string of arousal still connecting him to you as he brought them up to his face. "So that's why you fucked my fellow harbinger." He sneered, opening and closing his index and middle finger, playing with your slick.

"H-Huh?" You moaned, both in disappointment and confusion. Despite the cold, your body burned with desire, one that grew more potent by the passing second as you felt Capitano's obvious hard-on behind you. You were grateful for your tears blurring your vision, for as Capitano continued to let you sit in his lap exposed to his soldiers, you at least could fool yourself into thinking that no one was paying attention.

But only for so long.

A scream tore from you as the Captain's fingers returned to your sex, his fingers dipping into your pussy before they had quickly found your g-spot whilst his other hand wrapped around your torso to begin flicking rapidly at your clit. All the air in your lungs were nearly knocked out of you at the rate of how quickly you were approaching your climax, your hands fruitlessly clawing at Capitano's forearms as drool started to dribble from the side of your mouth, your eyes starting to roll into the back of your skull.

"C-Captain..." You moaned. "O-Oh Archons...!" You keened.

He didn't relent. "Take it," He ordered as if he were ordering a soldier. "Considering you've taken me and Tartaglia at the same time...you should be used to the pleasure." He chuckled gruffly.

He tightened his hold on you as you squirmed. "Slut," He spat. "Quit squirming."

It was only when Capitano suddenly bit down on your shoulder were you pushed off the edge, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body stilled and your vision turned completely white. For a long while, you drifted on that cloud of sheer bliss...until you were brought back down by the feeling of something hard slapping against your cunt, snapping you back to reality before you were face to face with the harbinger's cock.

Starting off at a lighter color at the base before turning into a dark purple towards the middle and upwards at the tip. You shuddered when you remembered that Capitano's cock was inside of you...not even a whole two weeks prior! The ridges along his dick were intimidating, especially with the way it twitched and oozed pre-cum.

You gasped when he parted your cunt wider with his fingers. "If you won't apologize with your mouth..." He started off before he lifted you a little, as easily as he would carry a sack of flour before the tip of his cock pressed against your opening. "...Maybe you'll be more apologetic with your pussy."

. . .

Capitano didn't waste any time to wrap a hand around your mouth, although, the sheer size of his hand nearly engulfed your entire face. As he pressed you impossibly closer to him, he made sure to get really close to your ear as he spoke to you. "Make sure to look my soldiers in the eye as you apologize to me with this cunt of yours." He said before he slowly pushed himself into you.

Immediately, you broke his command, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head. Something that Capitano quickly corrected with his free hand slapping the side of your thigh. "Look at them." He reminded you. As more of his dick sunk into you, your eyes blurry and struggling to focus as you looked at the soldiers before you. You accidentally made eye contact with one of them, all before...your eyes glimpsed at his noticeably hard cock.

In fact, you noticed how all of them were hard.

Your cunt clenched tighter around your boss' dick at that realization. "Fuck—" He whispered. "You must've noticed, hm? How they all yearn to fuck you? My secretary." He continued.

When your pussy twitched at his words, he lightly pinched your side in punishment. "Greedy pussy...still eager to take more cock despite having me inside of you?" A muffled yelp resounded against the harbinger's hand when the rest of the Captain's dick was suddenly pushed into you. More moans followed suit as his fat tip began to poke and prod at your sweet spot, deep inside of you. "Don't worry, I'll curb your greediness soon." He whispered, the sheer possessiveness in his deep voice making goosebumps pop up all over your skin and down your spine.

More than you cared to realize, you loved when your boss was possessive over you. And that love only grew more when he started to move, his balls slapping against your skin as he took up a brutal pace almost immediately. You tried your best to keep your moans quiet when he suddenly released his grip over your mouth for it to take up stationing itself on your waist, aiding in pulling you down faster and harder against his pelvis. But it was so fucking hard to be quiet when he was fucking you like he was afraid of loosing you. As if you'd be gone the second this was all done.

"C-Captain..." You groaned. "F-Feels so good...!" You continued to cry out, blissful tears running down your face as you lost yourself in the feeling of his cock. Delicious sparks ran up and down your spine at the feeling of the ridges alongside his cock rubbing against your walls, your arms coming to loop themselves around the back of the Captain's neck as his groans started to become more and more audible.

His cock was touching all the right spots inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyes. "Fuck—" He snarled. "Archons...your cunt is squeezing me so tightly." He groaned, his head coming to bury itself in the crook of your head before he whispered more words you were too cock-drunk to decipher. You whined when he sped up the pace of his thrusts against you, your cock-drunk babbles turning from moaning to pleading for him to go easier on you, much to the harbinger's amusement. "Too much?" He mocked, faking sympathy as he fucked you harder in turn. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

He was suffocating you in the best way possible as each time his cock slid into you, it practically punched the air from your lungs, the scent of sex in the air making it feel like it was hard to breathe. But you loved it. You assume that's why your second orgasm snuck upon you so suddenly, the presence of people watching your boss fuck you silly on his lap...the degrading words he whispered into your ear in combination to the pleasure. It was all making your mind spin. "You're fucking tightening up on me..." Capitano grit his teeth together, his claws beginning to dig into your skin.

"Gonna cum?" He asked before he kissed the side of your neck, lightly nipping it as he felt his orgasm begin to approach as well. "Cum all over my cock then." He cooed, the feeling of his twitching dick battering against your cervix making you let out a few more strangled moans before you froze again him with a loud cry.

"Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck." He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm for a few more thrusts until he stilled against your still twitching pussy with a loud hiss of his own. You moaned softly as you struggled to come down from being dicked down, a dopey grin plastering itself onto your face as you looked behind you with both a happy expression and a shy one.

The harbinger, although dazed and hidden behind his mask, smirked confidently, the way he moved to run his fingers through your hair shockingly gentle.

He doubted you would want to go and find someone else to fuck after tonight.

[thediaryofaurora]

ticci toby nsfw headcanons 😭🤲 can’t express how much i love your hc’s bro its so good 🥹💗 pls keep cooking

☆Ticci Toby Relationship HCs☆

CW: NSFW, f!reader

THANK YOU SO MUCH! This ask single-handedly brought me out of my writing slump. I went ahead and added SFW dating HCs as well, a little bonus 🙌 Also I’m in a leg brace from soccer so I’m stuck in bed.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

★SFW★

- This guy has got a LOT on his mental plate, be prepared for that.

- He is 100% a friends to lovers type of guy. He’s not easily trusting, so that relationship really has to be built up.

- When he does have a crush on someone he beats himself up about it because he feels so stupid for thinking you’d ever like him back.

- Moving onto actually dating him, he is so so so insecure. Lots of reassurance is needed, but if you’re able to get through to him he eventually realizes you actually like him.

- Crazy touch starved. In the first few months of dating he’s super unsure of if he can kiss you or even put his arm around you, he’s HORRIFIED of crossing any boundaries and you leaving. You’ll probably have to make the first move.

- He most likely won’t be the one to ask you out. If you’ve known eachother for a while and he’s feeling a little confident there’s a possibility, but in his mind he’d rather stay friends and get to see you rather than get rejected and you not talk to him anymore.

- LOVES going on dates with you, but he’s a ball of anxiety. It should be easy to cool him down and let him know you’re enjoying it, he’s just so worried about if you’re happy or not.

- Usually thinks going on walks or sitting on a curb together is like the perfect date, ESPECIALLY in the fall. He keeps an old camera on him that he got from Brian so he can make little home videos and capture the moments you spend together.

- Picks up cool leaves, glass shards, or other things left in the forest and makes sure to show you.

- He’s actually not an awful cook. He’s a fast learner in pretty much every aspect and he already knows the basics. His mom taught him when he was young how to make some baseline German dishes, and this man can WHIP that shit up.

- Once you two are to the point in your relationship where you can cuddle, he is ALL OVER YOU. Especially when it’s raining/ thundering out and you two can lay in bed together. Since he overheats easily due to his CIPA, in the colder seasons you’ll have to leave the window open so he can stay cool.

- After seeing how his dad treated his mom, he has a pretty good grasp on how to treat a partner. At times he can fly off the handle, especially with his bipolar disorder, but afterwards he breaks down and apologizes. If at any point you even SEEM like you don’t like him anymore he gets defensive, it makes him very standoffish or snappy.

- Won’t shut up about you after you start dating. Not in a rambling way, but he finds a way to bring you up in every conversation. He doesn’t meant to, but how could he go without telling someone you’d like the flower he just walked by?

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

✩NSFW✩

- VIRRRRGINNNNNNNN.

- I mean VIRGIN virgin, like this guy has had NO activity. No first kiss either. All the knowledge he has is from porn, so he’s completely clueless. If you’re both inexperienced you’ll just have to persevere.

- He’s the kind of person to get turned on looking at a picture of you fully clothed, he’s just so in love with you.

- Before you two start dating he’s 100% taking candid pictures of you or finding your instagram posts and jacking off to them.

- Massive bottom. He puts out a front for a WHILE before you’ll be able to realize he’s not a top, he doesn’t want to look like a sissy. If you suggest being on top he’s BLOWN AWAY. Acts like he’s just doing whatever you want, but afterwards you definitely realize he’s been waiting for it.

- Sensitive as hell. He’s a loud one, but again he doesn’t want to look weak or not masculine enough. He tries to hold his moans and whimpers back and grunt instead, but if you do it just right he’s a whimpering, whining, PANTING, mess. Kiss his neck? He’s rock hard. Even if you’re just giving him a hickey he’s whimpering and bucking his hips into you.

- Tits man 100%. Doesn’t matter what size, the fact that they’re there is enough. When you’re on top of him he prefers for you to face him so he can watch them bounce. When he’s on top he’s usually in missionary so he can still see them.

- Hair pulling kink, specifically his. He can’t feel the pain, but the yank drives him CRAZY.

- Big on oral. Giving or receiving, he doesn’t care. If he’s giving he prefers for you to sit on his face, but he’d never admit that.

- His favorite place to do it is tight spaces. Closets, cars, narrow alleyways. Especially if it adds to the thrill of getting caught.

- STAMINA. He cums crazy fast, but he’s definitely able to make up for it with how many rounds he can go. Even if he came a few minutes ago, it’s already up and ready to go again.

- Likes to have music playing in the back while you do it. He probably already made a playlist the second you started dating, but if you ever want to choose the music he doesn’t mind.

- At first he’s self conscious about his abilities, but after some time and seeing how good you feel he’s a cocky motherfucker. Slyly grinning and looking at you all worn out after a few rounds boosts his ego to the moon.

- Dim lighting all the way. He wants to be able to see you, but he feels too exposed when it’s too bright.

- Not completely opposed to a threesome, it depends on who it is. He’s more protective than possessive, so if he trusts the person enough he’d be okay with it. If it had to be anyone in the mansion it would probably be Cody or Liu, but he’d make sure you’re okay with it.

- Rabid horny teenager.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

[gatitties]

Can I get a one punch man saitama genos and garou accidentally saving a female reader from a villains or monster attack and the reader becomes madly in love with them and like stars following them and clingy to their art etc

─Saitama, Genos & Garou x reader

─Summary: You think that the person who saved you needs all the love in the world even if it was an accident.

─Warnings: none

─ In this world of heroes and villains you consider that you have a superpower, the superpower of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

─ Somehow you find yourself involved in battles that do not concern you, being just another civilian who is rescued, it has happened to you several times, but you usually go unnoticed and flee from danger before someone decides to use you as a hostage.

─ It didn't happen like that when Saitama saved you, although he didn't even see you, he destroyed that huge stone that was going to crush you when defeating a villain, your eyes could only look fascinated at the shine of his bald head and his bored expression.

─ You thanked him in different languages and he just gave you a thumbs up without knowing how to respond when he didn't even notice you in the first place.

─ He was certainly happy thinking that he had gotten a fan, but you went a little too far.

─ You went crazy looking for information about your now favorite hero and love, you sighed every time you saw him knock down enemies with a single blow.

─ Saitama met you more times a day than he did with Genos, and he lived with the cyborg.

─ You always tried to start a conversation with him, no matter how brief, you love the simple interaction.

─ Saitama will run away from you, seriously, he appreciates your letters and gifts but you are reaching an extreme, the man wants to lead a fairly peaceful life and you are a whirlwind of emotions.

─ Genos got a taste of his own medicine when he prevented a pile of rubble from falling on you, he hadn't noticed that you were the only person there, he just diverted the pieces of building for a battle strategy.

─ You didn't need anything else, once he realized that there were civilians, he apologized and helped you get to the nearest hospital to check if you had any injuries.

─ You were creating imaginary scenarios with the cyborg throughout the medical checkup and immediately sought to have more interactions with him.

─ It's difficult for Genos to reject some of your offers once you manage to establish some kind of friendly relationship, although he feels that you are being a little suffocating with your affection.

─ Appreciate your enthusiasm and affection, but seriously, relax a little, his brain will short-circuit from the amount of love you show him.

─ This boy has zero experience in romantic relationships so he is a little lost when it comes to reciprocating at first.

─ You will take care of that as long as he ends up accepting you as a partner, since he is still confused by your sudden appearance in his life, especially when he has such clear life goals, he doesn't know if you could distract him from his occupations.

─ He doesn't want to make you feel bad so he won't ignore your signs of affection like Saitama, ironically he has more heart than his bald friend.

─ In general he is a good boy and he will accept your love bombing, but he also has clear goals for himself, and he lets you know if you really want to be part of his life.

─ This idiot surely saw you and he was even the one who planned to use you as a hostage, but someone beat him to it and put a knife against your throat before he could do anything.

─ Fuck everything, the cheap villain was his priority now and he forgot about you, no one would take away a target even if it was a hostage, speaking of capricious boys…

─ Of course the whim of fighting your captor indirectly saved you, although he didn't look at you when you fell to the ground or help you after he broke the other guy's face, but your heart experienced an instant crush.

─ Garou had the feeling that someone was after him after that day, he thought that some rival was after him only to find... you with a love letter in your hands?

─ You looked at each other in an uncomfortable silence and he decided to leave without saying anything, but your spirits did not falter, you tried by all possible means to spend as much time as possible with him to establish a relationship.

─ The man simply got used to having you by his side, ranting about anything or receiving compliments for any little thing he did.

─ He was so embarrassed, not only because the sight of him as a villain would be destroyed, but because he was not used to receiving so much praise and affection.

─ You may have a rather negative reaction towards your love, he doesn't feel confident enough to start something and you also came out of nowhere, but now that he knows you a little more he won't kick you out of his life either, at least for now…

─ Don't expect any signs of affection from him, he's a tough guy and has to look tough.

─ He constantly reminds you that he's not a good person and what his goals are right now, but he gives up when he sees that the look in your eyes clouded by love, won't scare you away so easily, although he might like that.

[korereapers]

I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

[nyoomerr]

For the drabble request, I can never get enough shixiong!SY bingqiu. But only if you're up to it :)

ok it turns out i'm fundamentally unable to write a drabble as short as theyre meant to be, so here's over 4k words of shixiong!sy for your perusal 🤡 (+ a decent helping of cranky peak lord sqq and his wayward head disciple sy)

---

Shen Yuan… has possibly let himself become a bit too relaxed, since he first transmigrated. He used to spend every day on high alert: every cute little kid might be the protagonist, every mistake he made might have been logged somewhere for a petty revenge side plot later. He wouldn’t dare miss anything plot relevant, not when it might cause his doom. After all, ‘Shen Yuan’ wasn’t even a named character within PIDW - he was well and truly canon fodder!

But then, ah… Then Shen Yuan was accepted as a disciple on Qing Jing, and then he was a personal disciple of the notorious Shen Qingqiu, and then - 

Well, not even Shen Yuan can keep up that sort of hyper vigilance all the time, okay!! He’s the scum villain’s head disciple - basically a henchman! If he lived in fear for every moment he might be condemned, he’d never have a second to rest!

It isn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that the best way to relax in this world is to go on years-long expeditions off peak! 

…It might, maybe, be just a tiny bit my fault, Shen Yuan thinks, staring at Luo Binghe with horror. How does he manage to take such a long vacation that he misses the protagonist’s arrival onto Qing Jing? What kind of fake fan is he, ah?!

Luo Binghe has not introduced himself as such, but there is no way he can be anyone but Luo Binghe. His hair falls into perfect curls around a face so cute and round Shen Yuan wants to squish his cheeks until they turn pink, and he’s wearing an expression so determined and focused that it puts Shen Yuan to shame as the head disciple.

And he’s chopping wood. That’s the most recognizable part, obviously. 

Shen Yuan forces himself to step forward into the small glade he found Luo Binghe in, clearing his throat awkwardly. Luo Binghe whips around, and Shen Yuan nearly cringes at the nervous apprehension on the boy’s face.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you…” Shen Yuan trails off. Luo Binghe stares at him and says nothing. Shen Yuan’s perfectly nice and friendly smile starts to slip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…?”

“Apologies to Shixiong, this one will be sure to cut wood further away from the main peak buildings, so Shixiong doesn’t have to see me again.”

“Wha - wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!” Shen Yuan cries, becoming increasingly concerned about just how long he’s been away from Qing Jing. 

For Luo Binghe to already be this wary of any Shixiong who looks his way… ah, Shen Yuan has basically already failed every single one of his loose plans to keep Luo Binghe from blackening! He wasn’t even there to witness Luo Binghe’s initial perfect white sheep days, let alone keep him out of the warpath of bullies and bitter Shizuns!

“This Shixiong is Shen Yuan,” he says, taking a few slow steps closer to Luo Binghe. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he has to be ready to catch Luo Binghe by the scruff if he tries to run off or start a fight while Shen Yuan is just trying to introduce himself, ah!

“This one is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe replies, dipping into a perfunctory bow.

“Yes!” Shen Yuan says. “I mean - well, it’s a good name.”

Luo Binghe’s expression only grows more wary. 

“And ah, how long has Luo Binghe been on the peak?” Shen Yuan asks, even though the look Luo Binghe is giving him makes him want to slink back off into the bamboo forest. He has to know - if he’s lucky, it’ll only have been a year or two, and Shen Yuan can -

“This one has been a disciple of Qing Jing for over three years, now,” Luo Binghe says.

“Hm!” Shen Yuan says, because what he really wants to do is yell but he can’t do that with this customer service smile plastered on his face. 

Inwardly, he allows himself to monologue out a list of swears that would’ve gotten his old online accounts temporarily locked. Over three years is too long!! The blackening has already started!! Luo Binghe has already started damaging his meridians by following that cursed fake manual, has already started training under Meng Mo, and most importantly has already given up hope of being accepted here and started farming resentment instead!

Shen Yuan is fucked!! What sort of half-assed blackening prevention plan starts this late!?

“Ah, so Luo-shidi must already be 15, or nearly there,” Shen Yuan says aloud, laughing nervously. “Are you, um, sure?”

Please, please tell this pitiful Shixiong of yours that you just misspoke!!

Luo Binghe looks at him like he’s an idiot. Shen Yuan can feel nervous sweat beading along his forehead.

“It’s just - well, Luo-shidi is quite small, for being 15,” Shen Yuan says, and then nearly bites his tongue in an attempt to correct himself. Who is he to call the protagonist ‘small,’ ah!! “Not quite small! Only a bit! Only - uh, only slightly smaller than I’d expect! It’s only that I’m already 19, and Luo-shidi is much - I mean only a little! - shorter than I am, so -”

Shen Yuan makes himself shut up. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the protagonist, you idiot!

“This one will be sure to train more to get bigger,” Luo Binghe says, though it sounds a bit like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“No, no, you’re training plenty!” Shen Yuan rushes to say. “Uh, that is - admittedly, I’ve been off peak for some time now, but when I was Luo-shidi’s age, things like chopping wood were a group chore, so if you’re managing it all by yourself, surely you’re… big and strong…”

Shen Yuan shuts up again. Luo Binghe stares at him some more, but there’s something in his expression that seems more considering that it had been just a moment ago.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, he seems to come to some sort of resolution, and takes a hesitant step towards Shen Yuan.

“Forgive this one’s ignorance,” he says, slow and careful. “The other Shixiong said it was a chore best done alone to build strength. Is that wrong?”

“Very wrong,” Shen Yuan says, nearly beside himself with relief. 

Good, very good! Luo Binghe hasn’t lost all hope for his time on Qing Jing Peak just yet, after all! Given the chance, he’ll still try to carefully raise the issue of his bullying to a responsible Shixiong to take care of!

Shen Yuan can so be a responsible Shixiong that takes care of reports of bullying for Luo Binghe!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, edging even closer to Shen Yuan. “Then what does Shen-shixiong think I should do?”

“Luo-shidi doesn’t have to do anything about this,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “This Shixiong will take care of finding out who’s meant to be sharing this chore with you and make them do the rest of it.”

“There might be multiple people,” Luo Binghe offers, still speaking with a caution that makes it quite clear how likely he thinks it is that Shen Yuan’s assistance will vanish as soon as Luo Binghe complains too much. 

“Because Luo-shidi has been made to do this chore alone for many days, now?” Shen Yuan asks. 

Still looking a bit wary, Luo Binghe nods. Shen Yuan sighs, having expected that answer, and takes the final steps needed to get within arm’s reach of Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him closely, his hands curling tighter around the ax he’d been using to chop the wood. 

Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Shen Yuan raises one hand to place gently on Luo Binghe’s head. He really is too short for 15, but Shen Yuan knows all the details of ‘why’ - having to work too hard with not enough rest, having meals withheld from him or being served with spoilt ingredients - any kid would be a bit small, when under those conditions.

Luo Binghe had gone stiff under Shen Yuan’s touch, and Shen Yuan takes a moment to pet the top of his head for a moment before saying anything else, hoping to get Luo Binghe to relax again. 

Ah, I really did mean to try and keep you safe, Shen Yuan thinks to himself, feeling regretful. He’d come to Cang Qiong with the intention of finding Luo Binghe early, after all, and had worked as hard as he had in order to be ready for Luo Binghe when he came.

But then he had worked too hard, and Shen Qingqiu had promoted him to head disciple, and suddenly Shen Yuan thought he might go insane if he wasn’t able to get off Qing Jing Peak and stay off for as long as he could possibly get away with, and - 

How stupid of him. Luo Binghe must have been taken in during the disciple selection the very same year that Shen Yuan had taken off on his extended field trip. How very, very stupid of Shen Yuan, to think that things wouldn’t go upside down the second he looked away - this is Luo Binghe’s story, after all, and it’s always been a bit of a tragedy.

“Then this Shixiong can only apologize to you,” Shen Yuan says softly, with perhaps just a bit too much sincerity. “And in the future, if you’re given this sort of work again, I’ll chop wood in your place.”

Under his hand, Luo Binghe peers up at Shen Yuan with wide, hungry eyes. Shen Yuan gives him a final pat before withdrawing his hand, and plasters his friendly smile back on his face. 

“Now, why don’t you get cleaned up, hm? I’ll meet you again later - this Shixiong of yours still needs to report back to Shizun that I’ve returned from my trip.”

Luo Binghe nods, still watching Shen Yuan with an intensity that would feel more at home on an emperor than a scrawny 15 year old, and Shen Yuan beats a hasty retreat.

Despite all the pretty promises he made to Luo Binghe, he’s going to have to think of something clever to actually be able to fulfill them.

After all, not even all of his meta knowledge combined would be able to save Shen Yuan from his Shizun.

---

Shen Yuan has been pacing outside Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house for ten minutes now. Nothing he can think of is good enough to convince someone as petty and stubborn as Shen Qingqiu. 

Once, at the start of his time on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Yuan had tied his disciple robes wrong, unused to wearing anything quite so complex. Shen Qingqiu had sneered at his mistake in the moment, and then for every major event in the next five years straight he’d made a point to comment snidely on how well Shen Yuan has managed to dress himself.

That’s the sort of mean streak this man has!! If he doesn’t like something, he’ll keep harping on that one thing for years, even after that thing isn’t around to bother him anymore! How is Shen Yuan supposed to coax Luo Binghe out of the jaws of a man like that?

Ah, forget it, forget it! Shen Yuan would just - he’d come back another day! Greeting Shen Qingqiu wasn’t really necessary, Shen Yuan could just -

“I was under the impression that Shen Yuan was a head disciple returning from field work, not a child trying to avoid bedtime.”

Shen Yuan whips around, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end like a spooked cat. There, kneeling elegantly on his front porch not ten meters from Shen Yuan, is Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun!” Shen Yuan cries, trying to force his grimace into a nice, polite smile. “When did - I mean - this disciple means -”

Shen Qingqiu closes his fan with a harsh snap, and Shen Yuan shuts his mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

“Well?” Shen Qingqiu asks dryly, and Shen Yuan hurriedly drops into a bow. 

“This disciple greets Shizun!” Shen Yuan shouts, his ears burning with embarrassment. 

Shen Qingqiu hums, and Shen Yuan risks peeking out from his bow to look at him. 

He does not look especially pleased.

With all the elegance of a wild cat, Shen Qingqiu unfolds himself from his kneeling position on the porch and glides over to Shen Yuan. 

“Too low,” he says, slapping at Shen Yuan’s wrists with his fan. “Or was Shen Yuan hoping there would be a replacement head disciple waiting for him by the time he came back from his trip?”

“Ahahaha,” Shen Yuan wheezes, carefully correcting himself into a bow of a slightly higher ranked disciple than the one he’d originally slipped into. “Of course this disciple is honored by the position and very very grateful for Shizun’s benevolence in leaving it to him even during his absence…”

“What advice does Shen Yuan think his Shizun has for him?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply, and Shen Yuan winces.

“‘Talk less,’ Shizun,” he recites dutifully. It is advice that Shen Qingqiu has given him many, many times.

Shen Qingqiu sniffs haughtily and walks a slow circle around Shen Yuan, inspecting him. Shen Yuan tries not to sweat too profusely. He really had been hoping that Shen Qingqiu may have forgotten about Shen Yuan in his years away, ah!

Finally, Shen Qingqiu completes his inspection, stopping once more in front of Shen Yuan. 

“What sort of pathetic creature has Shen Yuan carved the bones of to make his hairpiece?” He asks, using his fan to prod at Shen Yuan’s hairpin.

“A Hundred Year Crystal Tortoise, Shizun,” Shen Yuan answers.

“And the leather of your belt?”

“A Golden-Footed Acidic Bear, Shizun.”

“And did you even bother to remove the -”

“- the needle hairs beneath the Bear’s skin before treating the pelt,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “How bold you’ve gotten, interrupting your Shizun.”

“...Sorry, Shizun,” Shen Yuan mumbles, deflating a bit.

“Still,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, and Shen Yuan peeks back up at him again. “You did decent enough, I suppose.”

Shen Yuan perks up, half-standing up out of his bow. “Thanking Shizun -!”

Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “If Shen Yuan’s trip had been only a single year, instead of nearly four!”

Shen Yuan very quickly gets back into the proper deferential position. 

“Fleeing so quickly after being promoted, only to stay away for this long - I hope Shen Yuan is comfortable sleeping on the ground, because I’ve long since given up keeping the side room in my house for an absent head disciple. I filled it with cursed artifacts and dusty books two years ago.”

“Shizun -!” Shen Yuan protests, starting to stand up again. He’d liked that little room, damn it! It was the one decent part of being promoted to head disciple in the first place, even if it meant sharing a roof with this asshole!!

Shen Qingqiu whacks him again, and Shen Yuan obediently shuts up.

“Foolish boy,” he scolds, before promptly turning on his heel to stalk back to the bamboo house. “Hurry up, then,” he calls behind him, “I want to see if you still make tea as dreadfully as you did before.”

Shen Yuan makes a face at Shen Qingqiu’s back. Without looking behind him, Shen Qingqiu uses his qi to send a single leaf flying to Shen Yuan’s head, slapping him on the forehead right over where Shen Yuan’s brows had bunched together.

Shen Yuan smooths his face out into a perfectly polite smile once more. This asshole, he curses inwardly, he really is scum!! The lowest of the low!! A bully!!!

“Tea, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu calls once more, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch up.

---

Later, after Shen Yuan has dutifully given a retelling of his adventures over the last few years, and after Shen Qingqiu has grilled him on every mistake he made and how stupid that was of him and how shitty his tea still tastes, Shen Yuan finally manages to bring up Luo Binghe.

“This disciple met someone new this morning,” he says, pouring Shen Qingqiu more of his apparently awful tea. 

“Was Shen Yuan sure they were new? Perhaps it’s been so many years your brain has started to forget the faces of the idiots here in favor of whatever foolish beasts you’ve been studying.”

“Someone new,” Shen Yuan confirms, pretending to ignore Shen Qingqiu’s very pointed glare. “He was a disciple even younger than Ning-shimei, and you only picked her out the year before I left.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and all of a sudden Shen Yuan thinks that perhaps his Shizun has never been truly irritated with him in the past, because this expression is far more acidic than anything Shen Yuan has seen before.

“A-ah…?” Shen Yuan says, stupidly.

Shen Jiu sets his cup down with a harsh clink. “Shen Yuan should ignore that little beast. He won’t bring you any good news.”

“Shizun, this disciple likes beasts best,” Shen Yuan says. “Is he so bad?”

“Ignore him,” Shen Qingqiu repeats frostily. 

Shen Yuan swallows. This… there’s no way that he’ll be able to convince Shen Qingqiu to give Luo Binghe an honest shot in this one conversation. He can’t bet on being able to eventually wear him down, though, either - even if he does eventually convince him, if it takes a year to do it, that’s also not any good. Shen Yuan needs to be able to help Luo Binghe now.

Okay. This is fine. Shen Yuan has - he has so many very good ideas, all of them very well thought out and full of strategic benefits. He can use any one of these very good and smart ideas.

“I understand, Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, “That beast won’t be a shidi of mine, then.”

“Good, now -”

“But what about as a pet?”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him. Shen Yuan stares back.

“A pet,” Shen Qingqiu repeats. 

“A pet,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Shizun, I already said that I like beasts best - if I can’t raise Luo Binghe to be my shidi, can’t I raise him as my pet instead?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Beasts aren’t for keeping.”

“Sometimes they are - Cang Qiong has a whole peak dedicated to such a thing,” Shen Yuan points out. Shen Qingqiu’s scowl grows more fierce. 

“Qing Jing is above such dirty work,” he spits.

Shen Yuan swallows again, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. He’s already started down this path; he may as well place all his bets on making it through.

“Then perhaps Qing Jing is not for this disciple after all,” Shen Yuan says, trying to keep his voice steady. It still comes out a bit reedy, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t crack over the words. 

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. “Speak plainly - Shen Yuan has already spent several years neglecting his duties. How much farther do you intend to stray?”

“Shizun so graciously held the position of head disciple open for this one,” Shen Yuan hedges. “On that topic, isn’t it possible for head disciples to choose to spend a decade or so on a different peak of their choice, to encourage diversity in education and cross-peak relationships before the head disciple becomes beholden to their peak as a lord? Perhaps I could take in a pet on a different peak, with such a method.”

“That’s a custom reserved for older disciples,” Shen Qingqiu spits, “intended to benefit them in the years directly leading up to their ascension as a peak lord, not when the head disciple is just a little whelp with a century ahead of them before they can wear a lord’s crown.”

“No such rule is written anywhere, Shizun.”

“Then I’ll write it,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “Shen Yuan, you’ve had your fun these past years - now you are to stay on this peak.”

“Then I want a pet,” Shen Yuan says, tilting his head up defiantly. “It’ll benefit Shizun, too: you won’t have to feed or clothe him anymore, nor train him to be a cultivator.”

Not that you were doing any of those things for Luo Binghe before, ah!! Shen Yuan thinks, trying to focus on that feeling of indignation. If he just thinks about that - about the horror of coming across Luo Binghe in that clearing earlier, too scrawny to be 15 and yet wary enough of the world he may as well have been an adult - then Shen Yuan can hold his ground. 

If he just thinks about Luo Binghe as a neglected kid, and he just thinks of Shen Qingqiu as that child’s abuser -

If he just thinks about that, then Shen Yuan can meet the eyes of the man who has taught him and promoted him and housed him in the side room of his house, and he can demand this one thing.

“With what funds would Shen Yuan be able to feed and clothe his pet?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. “With what free time would he train him not to bite?”

“This one is the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Shen Yuan says. “If a head disciple couldn’t manage that much, they certainly couldn’t deserve to ascend as a peak lord in the future.”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, unfurling his fan and raising it high up his face until only his eyes peered out the top of it, watching Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s hands twist in his lap, but he keeps his gaze steady.

“A head disciple does not run away from the position,” Shen Qingqiu says. 

“Nor does a master run off from their pet,” Shen Yuan agrees.

There’s another moment of quiet as they both watch each other. When Shen Qingqiu speaks again, his voice is firm, like someone reciting basic peak rules and not the terms of the most batshit insane agreement Shen Yuan has ever brokered.

“You will stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “and you will accept the head discipleship position without fuss.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“No more trips. No more pretending to forget to introduce yourself as my head disciple. No more pushing your pathetic disciple brothers at me with paperwork that you clearly filled out in some sort of foolish scheme to have me consider them over you.”

Shen Yuan winces. “Yes, Shizun.”

“You will not receive any additional allowance, for any reason, outside of the funds normally provided to a head disciple. Any pests you pick up will not sleep in my house, nor will you be allowed to request room in the dormitories for any such creature. Those resources are for disciples, not beasts.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe can’t sleep in the rundown woodshed forever, and he wants to protest the idea that the dorms are for disciples, as if Luo Binghe was ever allowed in there in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu taps one finger on the table. “Answer, Shen Yuan.”

“This disciple agrees under one condition,” Shen Yuan says. “Using his personal funds, this disciple would like to request permission to make moderate renovations to a peak structure in order to improve the quality of kept wood.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Disciple Shen Yuan’s personal funds will be drained by feeding an animal - you will not be able to afford the standards that Qing Jing exacts for renovation projects.”

“This disciple has been collecting favors from An Ding. They will be repaid, and this disciple will be able to afford the project.”

“Shen Yuan had best not be caught collecting any such favors forcibly,” Shen Qingqiu warns, which is very distinctly a ‘don’t get caught blackmailing people’ warning and not a blanket ‘don’t blackmail people’ one.

“Of course,” Shen Yuan agrees. “This one is the personal disciple of Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu - how could I get caught in such a way?”

Read: you’ve made sure I understand how to not get caught when doing something shady, at the very least!!

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan once, twice - he’s irritated, but doesn’t necessarily disagree.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Permission for a renovation to that ugly woodshed is granted. And Shen Yuan’s answer to all other stipulations?”

“This disciple agrees.”

Shen Qingqiu slaps his fan closed in one palm. “Then Shen Yuan is allowed a pet. I won’t interfere further.”

Shen Yuan nods. He expected as much; Shen Qingqiu won’t egg on any further bullying, nor will he stop Shen Yuan from taking any measures he pleases when it comes to Luo Binghe, but he won’t help Shen Yuan dissuade the current bullying.

That’s fine - already, this is enough to help Luo Binghe.

“Thanking Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, bowing his head slightly. “This disciple will not disappoint.”

After all, how hard could raising the protagonist be? This world revolves around Luo Binghe; all Shen Yuan needs to do is make Luo Binghe’s everyday life a bit less miserable, give him just one person he can trust. Luo Binghe will manage the rest himself, by nature of being who he is - what he is. 

Yes, this - this is the best way.

---

Outside the bamboo house, crouched beneath a window so still his muscles ache and his head feels woozy from how shallow he’s kept his breathing, Luo Binghe listens to his Shizun and Shixiong move on to discuss cleaning out the side room now that Shen Yuan has returned to the peak.

A pet, he thinks, his eyes blown wide, his fingers digging deep into the ground beneath his knees. He can feel dirt caking the underside of his fingernails, and the scars he leaves in the ground are very much like an animal, indeed.

A pet, he thinks again, over and over on loop in his mind, his pretty Shixiong’s voice fading to background noise. He thinks of Shen Yuan gently patting his head like one might coax a dog, and he thinks -

Yes, a pet.

[robinbuckleyluvr]

⊹˚˖⁺ our childhood is gone - steve harrington

masterlist | requests

pairing: steve harrington x platonic fem!reader

summary: reader and steve end tied up in the secret russian base, where the reader turns to anger and finally confronts steve after he threw out their friendship just for popularity.

warnings: none

notes: i love angst long live angst

word count: 864

⸻⊱༺ 

When she first walked into her new job and saw Steve Harrington, she could not believe it. How could Steve, the most entitled and pretentious guy at Hawkins, end up with a crappy job at an ice cream parlor?

A bit hypocritical to say, seeing as though she had the same job. 

They exchanged a polite ‘Hello’ that first day, but no words were spoken. There was no acknowledgement of their past, of their friendship they once cherished, ever since they were 9 years old. High school had completely turned Steve into a jerk, and she resented him for it. Him and his ‘friends’ would stare and laugh when she’d walk by, just like they did with anyone they deemed ‘uncool’.

What hurt most, was making eye contact with him.

She never once saw an apologetic look from him. Not then, not now, not ever.

Scoops was a dead-end too, as she pretended not to know him, and he did the same.

How they ended up in an underground Russian base, tied to chairs sitting back-to-back with each other, was a question neither could answer. They sat in silence, waiting and fearing whoever was due to come in the room to question them.

“So…” Steve began, attempting to light up the dreary mood.

“So what?” Y/N snapped. Not a single bone in her wanting to be kind to him.

“I just, you know… quite the situation we’re in here.”

“Cut the shit, Harrington. Don’t act like you want to make small talk with me right now.”

Steve sat quiet. They both did for a few minutes. Taking in the gravity of the situation they faced, and the uncomfortable silence that filled the room.

“You know,” Y/N laughed, sarcasm lacing her words, “You really are the same person you were back in high school. When I first saw you here… I cannot believe I really thought you’d changed. But of course, you didn’t. You’re still the same douchebag you used to be… pretending not to know me. You’re an ass.”

Steve was at a loss for words, “Oh, don’t act like you’re a saint,” He snapped, “You ignored me too. I guess you’re a douche too, then.”

“It takes one to know one. I wasn’t the one who went prancing around to the ‘cool’ kids as soon as we entered high school just because I wanted to be ‘someone’.”

“At least I was someone.”

“Harrington, I think you’ll be happy to know, making fun of people doesn’t make you ‘someone’. It just makes you an asshole.” She shot back.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” He muttered under his breath.

“You are fucking unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes in response, “For the love of God, I’m sorry, okay?” 

“You don’t even know what to be sorry for, Harrington.” She hissed, “A half-assed apology won’t get you anywhere after the hell you made me go through these past 3 years. You know, when I first started high school, I foolishly thought ‘How cool! I have my awesome, cool, friend, Steve Harrington in the grade above me! What could go wrong?’”

Steve laughed, “You did not say that–”

“Of course not, asshole, I was being sarcastic.” She sighed, “I still did not think you and your fucking ‘friends’ would make it hell to walk through those halls. Never had a single day of peace. If you weren’t making fun of the books I carried, it was the way I walked. Or the way I wore my hair. How does doing that to so many people not haunt you, Steve?”

He stared at the floor. His expression dropping with each word she spoke, hurt and sarcasm never leaving her voice.

“Do you not regret it, Harrington?”

They both reflected on the words exchanged, the minutes dragging out before they spoke again. Their minds raced and dwelled in the hurt and regret filling the air.

“I do. I never thought it was going to go that way. I never thought…” He paused, “I never wanted to hurt anyone. But I sat with them on my first day. And suddenly I was part of it, I finally… belonged somewhere. I started playing basketball with them, and before I knew it, I was in too deep. I never planned to make fun of people in the halls, but when you stand there with them, careful not to laugh too loud and… they turn to you and wait for you to make a comment, you just do. ”

“Please,” She huffed, “You’re not getting any pity from me with that fuck-ass story. You threw away years of friendship to make fun of people and shoot balls up at the ceiling? Fuck you.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve responded quietly. “You’re right. I was a coward, an asshole, and a douche. Everything you said,” He sighed, “You are correct about it all. I hurt a lot of people, and I do wish I could un-do that damage. I wish I hadn’t thrown our friendship away either.”

“You were my best friend,” She spoke, her voice breaking, “I wanted to believe in the 9 year old Steve I once met. But you made me feel invisible.”

[ningningsdream]

[4:28AM] "i still love you, y/n. it was dumb of me to let you go.", ex! jeno pleaded as he stood on your doorstep at an ungodly hour in the night, "everything i see reminds me of you. i've tried to move on but i can't help myself comparing everyone with you. i miss you even when i'm in a room full of people to distract me.", jeno rambled, his rosy cheeks hinting that he was probably a little tipsy.

today would've been your fifth-year anniversary if you stayed together.

"i thought of you every single day for almost a whole year after we broke up.", you said, looking at him.

"me-"

"let me finish.", you interrupted him, holding your index up, "i tried so hard not to, but it felt like the more i was trying to not think of you, the more i did. you were the first and last person i talked to every single day. some mornings, when i was still in a sleepy haze, i found myself looking at my phone to see if you had texted me and when reality hit me, it was another kind of pain. you were part of my everyday, you became a habit. it's hard getting rid of habits. i had to get used to say that i didn't have a boyfriend when asked about relationships, and i couldn't use 'my boyfriend and i already planned something' when i wanted to get out of things. i was wondering if i was the only one that had to hold myself back from sending you a text. i was wondering if you too, struggled with not having me in your life anymore."

"i did. i do. so much, y/n. you don't know how much i want to go back to slap some sense into myself and not break up with you. i was so overwhelmed with graduation, work and keeping up with family and friends that i thought i needed to get rid of something."

"so you got rid of me..."

"and i regret it so fucking much. the minute i saw the tears in your eyes i regretted it. i thought it was for the better, i was so busy i couldn't even be a proper boyfriend to you, and you deserved better than that. i thought letting you go was the best for the both of us."

"the best? i cried every single night for three months straight. not only because i missed you, but because as you said i deserved better. i knew that... i knew it but i also knew that if you showed up like this at my door back then i would've taken you back in a heartbeat. and it made me hate myself, because i loved you more than i loved myself."

"i'm so sorry, y/n. i really am-"

"babe! where are you?", you heard bf!renjun screaming from your room, with his sleepy and worried voice.

"i'll be right back, junnie.", you answered with a little smile on your face, imagining your boyfriend with his eyes closed and a pout on his face as his arm was lying on your empty side of the bed. you turned back to face jeno, whose face seemed like he saw a ghost, "jeno, i appreciate the apology... but you're a little too late. i've stopped waiting for you a long time ago.", you gave him a small apologetic smile.

jeno looked at you and realized how much he fucked up. you've rightfully moved on and he was the only one being stuck in something he created. when you replied to your boyfriend, that was when he noticed the smile on your face, the same smile that used to be directed to him, and that was the only time he saw you express happiness since he appeared on your doorstep.

"fuck, you're really here.", a familiar voice said right after you heard the elevator doors open.

"i really wished i was wrong.", another familiar voice said.

you turned your head and saw two people, you thought you wouldn't see again, walking towards your apartment.

"time to go home, samoyed."

"haechan. jaemin.", you greeted your ex's bestfriends.

"sorry for the disruption.", ex's bestfriend!haechan told you before grabbing jeno's arm and putting it around his shoulders, helping his friend walk away from your apartment and your life.

"how have you been ?", your old childhood bestfriend!jaemin said, letting jeno and haechan walk away first.

"great...you?"

"same."

the feeling of awkwardness and nostalgia could be sensed in the air. you looked at each other a few more seconds as all the memories of your friendship, from when you met in kindergarten to when he stayed by jeno's side when you two broke up, flashed through your eyes.

"baaaabeee!!", your boyfriend whined from far away, "come baaaack!"

"well, it's late. we're going to let you go back to your night. sorry about that.", jaemin nodded towards your ex, "and everything else...", hinting at his own mistakes.

you nodded, acknowledging his apology, "bye, jaem.", you gave him one last smile. it had been a while since he heard his nickname coming out of your mouth.

"bye, y/n.", jaemin returned your smile.

you watched him walk away with his two other friends, knowing that your byes stood as an official farewell to your friendship and his presence in your life.

[strwberri-milk]

Songs of Sorrow - Ch. 11

Rancher!AU || Boothill x Fem!Reader || Slowburn, Drama

smut under cut! boothill jerking off to the thought of reader lol

“Boothill? Who was that?” 

He raises a brow, looking at the direction you point in. Geryll’s happily skipping down the steps once again, that smile on her face the only expression Boothill’s ever seen on her. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anybody that happy before, especially when considering how early she likes to drop by his home. 

“One of the neighbours. Name’s Geryll, and she lives with her brother Mikhal and his wife the opposite direction of Dan Heng. They’re wheat farmers,” he explains quickly, eyes trailing her form as she leaves. 

Seeing that the woman was fully gone you step out onto the deck in the evening light with Boothill, joining him in the chair across from him as he sips on his neat whiskey. He brought out a glass of lemonade for you, having invited you to spend the evening with him. 

“So what I’m hearing is these acres of land can feed me until the day I die,” you laugh. 

“It’s a good setup we got here,” he agrees. “Everyone lives close enough that tradin’ resources is viable and we pay less since we buy directly from the source. Or for free if we get gifted somethin’.” 

He nods towards another basket of baked goodies, watching as your eyes light up in joy at the sight.

“Oh, so that’s who made those delicious muffins last time? Hopefully I can thank them in person one day.” 

You take a bite and make a happy noise, practically moaning as the bite touches your tongue. The sound goes straight to his stomach, Boothill turning his face away from you as he tries to ignore the fire it lights in him. His eyes are suddenly very intent in counting the swirls in the grain of wood underfoot. 

“God, these are delicious. Boothill, please tell me you’re going to have some too,” you whine slightly, not wanting him to miss out on the treats. 

“I will darlin’, just in a minute.”

He’s trying to stop himself from falling apart at the suggestion that you might be so kind as to touch him, to breathe in his general direction. 

“Nonsense. Here, I won’t be able to eat it all anyway.”

He’s startled when you come around to stand in front of him, leaning down as you break off a piece of the pastry to press against his lips. 

“Just open up,” you pout. 

The look on your face, paired with the fact that he knows if he was a lesser man - which he so wishes he was - he’d be able to look down your shirt with your movement, makes his lips part. You take advantage of it, pressing the morsel into his mouth. His throat suddenly feels parched, staring up at you as though you were the answers to all of his prayers. 

You totally are. 

He swallows mindlessly, not even able to taste a single ounce of the treat. You stare at him with those wide eyes of yours, his hands fighting desperately to grab you and pull you onto his lap and have his way with you. 

Suddenly, he’s plagued with images of you under him making the same noises you just did. Your fingers press against his lips again, this time far more insistently as you plead for him to keep going. His eyes are wide as he stares blankly in your direction, totally gone to the world as you wave your hand in front of his face. 

“Boothill?’ 

“Nothin’!” he says quickly, standing up with his drink. 

He downs the glass before mumbling some sort of apology to you. He knows you have no idea what he just said or what’s going through his mind right now and he prays it stays that well.

You follow him as he practically barrels through the halls, unable to get the image he conjured up of you off of his mind. 

“Boothill, are you okay?” you ask as you chase after him.

“You look downright flush!”

You grab his hand, forcing him to stop in his tracks as you press your hand up to his forehead. The heat of your hand does not help matters as he’s forced to meet your gaze again, those lips of yours tempting him fiercely. 

“Should I get you some help? Maybe I can call someone to get you some medicine. Would that help?” you ask nervously, concern growing for him with every second that passes. 

“No, that’s not it,” he says, taking your hand off of his forehead. 

“I had a long day. We can do somethin’ tomorrow. I just need to get washed up and go to bed.” 

You don’t look like you believe him, brows knotted as you try to reach for him again.

“I don’t care if it’ll put me in danger. If something happened to you I’d never forgive myself. I’m worried about you.” 

He thinks you should be more worried about yourself, hands betraying his rational mind as he plants his palms on your hips. He knows you’re used to him being handsy, especially after the horse ride he took you on but his grip is much harsher this time. He thinks it is at least, trying his best not to squeeze you too tightly. 

“Doll, I mean it. I’m okay,” he says roughly, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“You’ll see me in the mornin’. I promise.” 

At that you relent, knowing that if he promised you then you don’t need to worry. Hesitantly, you step back, Boothill’s palms already missing the way your body felt in his hands. His fingers twitch, wanting to just grab you again but he stops himself, watching forlornly as you accept his words and walk away. 

Once he’s sure you’re gone he turns into his bedroom, making sure the door is locked behind him as he finally feels the strain of his cock against his pants. He’s glad the material of his jeans made it hard to see the sizeable bulge pressing against the zipper, begging for release. His hand comes down to palm at himself, a sharp hiss leaving his lips as he finally feels some of his desperate desire for you sate itself. 

He bites his lip, trying to stop himself from going any further. He doesn’t want to sully your image with his impure thoughts, no stranger to a night of companionship but never with someone he’s grown to care for as much as you. 

But he can’t stop thinking about you. He can’t stop thinking about the way you smelled when he held you on his horse, the warmth of your body pressed into his chest. By the grace of the gods he somehow wasn’t hard despite your ass practically rubbing against his pelvis totally unintentionally. He was just trying to ride the way he normally would but now with the addition of you and grossly underestimated how much room there would be. Not only that but you let him hold you so tightly that he knew you could feel the pounding of his heart. 

A low curse slips past his lips and he catches himself sliding his cock out of his pants before he knows it. His palm is hot against his shaft, tip already leaking from the thought of you as he trails his arousal down to his base. His fist begins to move up and down his shaft slowly, back landing against the door to his room as his hips buck into his hand. He can’t stop himself, body so worked up with the sole goal of one thing and one thing only. 

It takes him no time to stand at full mast, only having to think back to the small peek of you he allowed himself when you leant over to give him a bite of the muffin. The way your shirt gave way to beg him to give into his desires, to make you his and hopefully, somehow make this ache deep in his body finally go away. 

His body is far too heated now, stumbling out of the thick denim of his jeans as he makes his way back to his bed. He sits on the edge of it, cool sheets desperate to wrap themselves around your form. He hates how easily he can imagine it, how he’d make you moan and beg for him and how he’d be so kind and make you cum over and over again on his cock. He’d hate to make you cum on anything else for your first time together - he knows that his body needs to feel you clenching around him, milking the muscle as he tries to hold back to let you ride out your orgasm. 

His cock is hot and heavy in his hand, tip drooling as it begs to be inside of you. He strokes himself faster, moaning to himself softly as the sound of his skin over skin gets more intense. He knows he needs more but he doesn’t know what to do until his eyes fall onto his pillow. 

The night before you had crashed in his room. You had gotten yourself dolled up for dinner with him and the rest of the ranch hands, wanting to feel like you were going out for dinner. However, work took much longer than any of them had anticipated and you decided to take a nap on his bed. The sheets still smelled like your shampoo and perfume, heels forgotten in the corner of the room from when you decided you were too tired to move the few feet down to your own room. 

It can only be described as rough the way he mounts the pillow that smells like you, a body pillow that he kept on his bed because he had a tendency to grab in his sleep. A low moan slips past his lips as his cock settles against the plush, the scent of you making him grind against it roughly. All he can imagine is that it’s the plush of your body under him, his cock drilling into that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You’re desperate and begging for him, needing him to fuck you until you know nothing but what his name tastes like on your tongue. 

He braces his weight against the headboard, knuckles going white as he holds himself back from slamming it against the wall from the bucking of his hips. He knows that you two share a wall and he needs to hide his noises from you. But he also knows that you’re also human - there’s a chance you’re laying on that bed, hands shoved down your pants as you make yourself cream around your fingers. 

The sight has him fucking his pillow harder, hoping more than anything that if you’re ever doing anything like that, it’s to the thought of him. To the thought of his cock bullying its way into your tight hole, claiming every inch of you as he kisses you breathless. His balls grind harshly into the fabric as his hips pick up pace, the hand not bracing himself coming to tease at his nipples. The sensation definitely makes him moan loud enough for you to hear were you actively listening for him, springs creaking under his exertion.

He shifts down, arms wrapping around the pillow as he holds it tightly to keep his rough pace. He can bury his moans easier now that he’s got his face in his sheets, hips moving wildly as he tries to make himself cum. He knows he looks absolutely pathetic right now, biting his lip as he stifles his moans and humps against his pillow like a dog in heat. 

It doesn’t take him long to finally cum all over his sheets, cock flush as it spurts against his stomach and pillow. He takes a deep breath as his hips continue their languid grind, sitting up and trying to cool off as he watches the cum drip down from his cock onto his bed. He knows he needs to clean up but he can’t right now, nerves shot from how hard he just came. 

He knows he’s totally fucked. There’s no way he’ll be able to cum ever again without thinking about you.

[wombatwisdom]

Great and Spacious

I

When I came out at work, I simply changed my pronouns in my email signature and on zoom. Immediately a co-worker reached out and asked if I changed my pronouns, and I said yes and she was excited for me.

Within two days others noticed too and the reaction was professional and compassionate--I felt seen, supported, and safe. My people manager and I met and we discussed the systems in place and the resources available, she didn't really understand what being trans or non-binary really was, but she knew what policies of inclusion had been put in place by corporate and in our local office to support me. She was open with me and always supportive--even after she left for other opportunities, we still stay in contact.

It was not perfect. Bathrooms were tricky, due to the lack of single occupancy options. Some if my co-workers still mis-gendered me. But I've had people apologize when they get it wrong and do better. And knowing I have the support of so many that I work with helps me navigate the small group of less agreeable co-workers (and to be clear, I've never had anyone aggressively disrespect me).

But the real proof in the pudding is how non-performative the support is. I am not the "token office trans", I am part of the team, fully integrated. My opinions and questions are considered and appreciated. People have told me they enjoy collaborating with me. In many ways, despite transitioning in plain sight, I have never felt that it was a source of burden or concern in my workplace.

II

When I came out at church, I wrote a letter. It was detailed and gruesome. It highlighted my disphoria, my anguish, my pain. I had seen the stories of other trans people crushed by the wheel of leadership roulette and knew I had to be clear and deliberate in my language. The letter was hard to write and hard to read, so I am told. I needed to focus the reader on my pain in attempt to appeal to their sympathy.

I sent the letter to my Bishop; I was Ward Clerk at the time. He was kind. He genuinely took my letter and read and thought and prayed. He prayed for two weeks, and I prepared for the worst. Obviously, the temple recommend would be gone, with it the calling. Hopefully, there wouldn't be too much blowback on my family.

Finally we met, and we spoke for hours. His position was that he didn't feel like this should matter--in his mind being non-binary was fine and I was still worthy of a temple recommend. He said he had read the handbook so many times (which at the time was pretty sparse on how to work with non-binary people, arguably it still is) and felt like he wasn't sure what to do. Due to his upbringing as a non-member he felt like he has known many queer people who were good and deserving of love and he wished the Church were different. He is one of the good ones, but even still, I was at his discretion and thankfully he was benevolent.

My Stake President needed a month with my letter. He has never known a trans person before me and admitted to being at a loss. He, too, prayed and read the handbook and also felt the same confusion my Bishop had expressed. We had only one meeting, where he said that my femme presentation was not in alignment with holding the priesthood and would not sign off on my recommend. He was kind, but firm and I was frank in return. I asked him to draw the boundaries and lines--could I speak in classes? Could I pray, if asked? What callings could I hold? Could I give talks? Bare my testimony? Wear garments? Take the sacrament?

I could tell he was uncomfortable with my questions, but I needed to know so that I could be safe. I let him decide, and he was generous, I could do all those things, just not hold a temple recommend and my calling.

My Bishop was upset at the news. We would meet more times and he would express his frustration at the outcome. I was released from my calling, which felt like a public shaming, and I wasn't ever asked to pray, or speak, or teach. My new calling was to prepare the weekly bulletin--and I did, and I made sure that all my quotes were from female leaders (a fact that no one ever noticed).

I was thanked profusely for showing up and staying. People were kind but uncertain and it showed. Some were kind in ways that felt unnatural and disingenuous. My Bishop often told me of the complaints he got for not being harsher with me. A couple told him they would no longer attend while I was permitted to come and take the Sacrament. Another man told him the I suck the spirit out of the room just by being there.

There were some who were angry for me and how things had unfolded. There were a mix of people with a mix of reactions. They had no guidance or support in how to integrate me into their community. I was at their mercy. I didn't feel empowered to participate, I felt like a problem needing to be dealt with.

III

I share these two experiences to highlight a disparity. My workplace experience has been smooth and a delight. Policies were in place to give direction and support to those who needed it and I was still treated as a respected member of my team. When I asked my team leaders if they wanted me to not interface with clients, they said if that ever was a problem to talk to them and they would handle it.

My experience at church was the opposite. It was grueling, exhausting, and soul crushing. I watched people struggle to know what to do with me. It was messy and frustrating.

In one of our many conversations, my Bishop mentioned that he has clients that he works with that use they/them pronouns and he tries to be inclusive. It made me realise that many of the people at church likely come from workplaces similar to mine that have policies, guidance and systems in place for trans clients and co-workers, so they know how to behave in the work place. But at church, it was everyone for themselves, and it was disappointing.

At church, a lot is said about the world, the great and spacious building, Babylon. We are told to fear it and to believe that the world is mocking us and trying to do harm. But I have seen a world that behaves with compassion, empathy, and love--one that I didn't have to fight for acceptance or give my agency and pain away to a man across the desk from me.

The great and spacious building has come up with a lot of the philosophies our Church has rejected and now is trying to catch up to. But it pains me when people say that the members and leaders don't know any better--because they need only look up and outward to find places of inclusion to model themselves after. My workplace did it, likely without God's inspiration, so why, with God does it take us so long?

There are places of refuge out here in the world--community is what you cultivate. Our leaders and members are not innocent lambs ignorant of what is around them--but there is a cultivated ignorance that permits them to wallow in the mire of their biases. I was there once too. It is comforting to never have to open your eyes or confront your ignorance--but the world can help us do it.

Perhaps the great and spacious building isn't the pejorative we make it out to be. Perhaps it is truly great and decidedly spacious enough to incorporate all of God's children. Perhaps not. I only have my experience--but I have seen both the world and the church in action, and I can say with confidence, which more readily offered me fruit to sustain life.

[dreamgirlvibes]

We live in a culture where we are told we can go find better and do better- thus isolating ourselves and repeating this cycle over and over after small disagreements and ego-driven battles. Only to find ourselves becoming a capsule of emotions, memories and soul ties left with nothing but a false hope. Yes, there are instances where you SHOULD remove yourself and disconnect from people and things that are truly detrimental to your life and well being. But every single time someone fails or doesn’t meet such high standards, we’d rather let go instead of giving grace. We would rather remove what could have been instead of thinking of our own triggered responses and actions. We end up selfishly choosing ourselves instead and left with only ourselves. Traumatized by what is called love but we never truly find it. Taught by instagram memes and twitter posts and led by their manifestations. Guided by the followers of God and not Himself. Walking around the earth with a pride so high that couldn’t be reached but expecting for people to climb our walls. Love used to last back then because people knew what it was to TRY. We hallmark this ‘’90’s’’ r&b era because deep down inside we all want to find a love that stays, a love that never quits, that is vulnerable and faithful. It’s not about the boy groups ‘’begging and pleading’’ for their women. It’s not about the r&b divas expressing their hearts outs and uplifting their men. It’s not even about a nostalgic feeling. It’s about the fact that that we all had examples and situations that made us BELIEVE that the kinda love we deserve is WORTH IT. Worth crying for, worth chasing, worth staying, worth giving and trying. We are now blind to that type of love. We all have our guns in our pockets and weapons ready to aim at any kind of instance that doesn’t deem to be perfect. We have traded healthy love for toxicity and eventually made toxicity a normal thing- so normal we are TERRIFIED to try. Scared to stay. Horrified to look so crazy, so dumb, to be open, to cry, to do, to feel that we’re slowly becoming numb to the idea of it. Some praise singleness as a form of healthiness to the point of normalcy. And not saying that being single is not normal, but it’s the projection we forget about. People’s projections have become our new will and we all then cycle it back and pass It along. Causing all of us to eventually feel like we can do so much better, be so much better, when in reality we don’t even realize that the real work is working on ourselves. Nothing changes if nobody changes. We point the finger at each other when the target should be our own lives. If only you and that person could call it truths and instead instantly erasing the memories and history you’ve built off a disagreement, y’all can find a solution- first by removing the ego and letting vulnerability take its place. However, in this generation, that almost seems like a scam. We have power words we use for people who make simple mistakes- calling their choices a disease and spreading awareness to what could have easily been an apology. We would rather categorize people by names then to understand their reasons. We would rather perceive someone for what we choose to believe instead of allowing that person to find solace in us. Because in this generation- love is merely a concept. It is just a partnership until the contract is broken and when it breaks, we can go find another partner than can fulfill our selfish needs. It is prideful, it is not kind, it envies, dishonors others, self seeking, easily angered, never trusts, delights in seeing evil after departure and eventually fails. EVERYTHING opposite of what the Bible describes to BE LOVE. So do not think it rare that we have an enemy who is seeking to remove this altogether. To keep us soaked up in this concept until we no loner have a fighting chance. To keep us ‘’cutting each other off’’ and ‘’blocking’’ each other altogether because we feel like there is SO MUCH better when in reality the better needs to be YOU. You are the change that the world needs.

If everyone looked at themselves before trying to find this love in everyone else- we will all be facing ourseves and getting hit with the fact that when you finally turn around- you will THEN truly see each other. We will then finally see LOVE for what it is.

[stardust-moth]

In order to fully understand why it was so hard for Mike to express how deeply he loves El, and why his speech at the end of season 4 was one of the biggest, most important moments for his entire character, we need to look at not just who Mike is as a person, but also everything that has happened since he met her.

Every single time he opens up his heart to her, something horrible happens to her or she's taken away from him almost immediately afterwards.

1x08; he's an awkward little ball of feelings that are way too big for a boy so young. He makes a nervous attempt at confessing and asking her out on a date; when he can't find words that she'll understand, swoops in for a kiss instead. She lights up immediately and smiles. It's a brief moment of hope and pure happiness. Maybe they can have some semblance of a normal life and be normal kids after this is all over.

Minutes later, all hell breaks loose-- they're almost shot, El pushes herself too far until she can barely move, she's almost taken away by the Bad Men, the Demogorgon appears, and she uses the very last of her strength to sacrifice herself to save him and their friends.

He has to watch helplessly as she disappears.

He spends a year caught between believing she's dead and hoping she's still out there somewhere (but if she is alive then why won't she talk to him anymore...?). Kept silent under threat by the lab, he can't confide in anyone or even acknowledge her existence, not with anyone except those involved... but everyone else is keen on moving on and pretending it never happened. He can find some solidarity in Will, at least, who is in a similar kind of emotional turmoil... but it's not the same and it's not enough.

2x9; he is finally reunited with El, and she runs into his arms like she missed him too. She tells him that all those nights he called out to her, she heard him; she was there reciprocating his feelings the whole time.

In a burst of emotions that he's been forced to suppress for an entire year, he lashes out at the reason they've been kept apart (Hopper), screaming and sobbing. It's a massive catharsis for him, and for once an adult is understanding enough to hold him and not punish him for it.

Minutes later, she is going to go headfirst into a pit of monsters, the place where Mike had just firsthand witnessed dozens of people (if not more) get ripped to shreds only hours earlier, and she is going to attempt to close the Gate-- a feat that he knows may take every ounce of her power, just like last time. He cries. He can't lose her again. She promises he won't, and before she can seal that promise with a kiss, they're pulled apart again.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

3x1; all seems to be okay now. He and El are happily together, and he feels comfortable enough to be playful, romantic, and intimate with her. It's the most emotionally open we've ever seen Mike thus far.

For reasons he can't understand (bc there's no way Hopper explained himself beyond "I'm in charge so do as I say or else"), Hopper is angry about it and threatens to never allow him to see her again: the one thing he fears most.

He panics big time and fucks it up in the process by lying to her. During a frantic attempt to apologize while also abiding by Hopper's rules, he runs into her at the mall. He panics again-- if anyone finds her here, and knows that he was here too, it's all over, and Hopper surely won't hear reason. El dumps him cold on the spot, spurred on by Max and her rebellious attitude (and without any context of course). He isn't given much opportunity to respond. He knows he's in the wrong for lying to her, so what could he even say...?

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

It's a hard blow, and he retreats back into himself, unable to get any joy out of playing D&D (which he clearly hasn't lost interest in), back to the deadpan sarcasm and accidentally snapping a little too harshly at anyone whom he feels would take El's place.

3x6; no one seems to understand the danger El is putting herself in. Everyone is berating him for worrying about her safety. He's seen firsthand what these monsters do to people, he's seen firsthand how El pushes her abilities too far. No one is listening.

The words "I love her and I can't lose her again" burst out in his desperation, perhaps before he's even had a chance to realize how deep those feelings run, despite whatever protective walls he's tried to build around his heart to keep it from getting broken again.

Soon after, all hell breaks loose. El is nearly killed several times over, her leg is ripped open, she pushes herself so hard that she breaks herself and loses her powers completely. Her father is taken from her. She's shattered by all of this, and there's absolutely nothing he could do or say to make it better.

She tells him that when he admitted he loves her, she heard him, and indeed she loves him, too... But now she's leaving.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x1; they've been apart for a few months, and write letters back and forth to each other. El's letters paint a picture of an ideal new life: she and the Byers family are doing well; she's starting school and it's going well; she's made new friends, she likes her new home, everything is going well. She seems to be thriving. She sounds happy, maybe even happier than she had been living in Hawkins. Maybe Max was right, maybe she's better off being her own person without him, and maybe the respectful thing to do is step back... It's a small insecurity that creeps up subconsciously. In his replies he holds back, afraid of clinging too hard.

Though there's little logic in it, he's afraid that if he tells her he loves her again, another disaster might strike and this lovely happy life she's finally found might get taken from her. After all, that's what always seems to happen when he does.

4x2; after months of waiting, they can finally see each other again. He wears her favorite colors, picks a handful of flowers for her, and falls happily back into step with how they used to be. Soon that same day, however, reality becomes clear and the facade crumbles. People he was told were her friends show up to torment and publicly humiliate her. She had been lying. She isn't happy here, she hasn't healed, she is right at the edge of a breaking point that he doesn't see coming at all. He can't believe she would lie to him, she's not the kind of person to lie... especially not about something like bullying, something that she was always so understanding about with him.

On that logicless subconscious level, he wonders if it's all his fault-- he should have known somehow, he should have been there for her. She protected him from his bullies, he should have protected her from hers. He tries to come to her rescue. She runs away from him.

He's helpless to save her, again.

4x3; after a night to process everything that happened-- and deciding that the betrayal he feels from her lying to him is nothing compared to the turmoil she must be going through right now-- Mike approaches her in the gentlest way possible, wanting to listen and trying to understand. El, however, isn't receptive at all to his attempts at reassurance. She is at an all-time low, she's given up. She believes she is unlovable, irredeemable, a monster, just a thing that doesn't even have those superhuman abilities to compensate anymore. Mike can't believe what he's hearing-- doesn't she know that she's always been so much more than her powers? She's always been so much more than what she lacks in quote-unquote "normalcy"... None of those things matter, they have absolutely no bearing on whether she's worthy of being loved, because he loves her, completely regardless of any of these things. He always has...

El starts flinging his restrained words back at him, the products of his insecurity and trauma-induced fear. That fear takes hold yet again, and he stumbles, afraid of saying too much or not enough, because surely both could result in pushing her away-- she's retreating, hearing none of it; nothing he tries to say consoles her.

Moments later, local police come knocking. She's taken away in cuffs, and she's so broken inside that she won't even look at him when he chases the police car down the street and promises he'll get her out somehow...

Once again, he has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x8/4x9; after days of driving through the heat and dryness of southwest desert, having narrowly escaped being shot at with military-grade assault rifles, witnessing the death of and burying a man whose last words were that El is in danger... After watching dozens of people get mowed down by a sniper in a helicopter, and watching that same helicopter be smashed into the ground in a ball of flames...

There she is. Just as powerful and beautiful and alive as she's ever been. When he runs to her and embraces her, she looks at him like she can't believe he's real. She's beaming a smile right from her soul and it's like all the insecurity and self-doubt that have plagued them both just vanish from existence now that they're in each other's arms again.

Like always, however, the universe comes crashing down soon after. Max is marked for a gruesome death and all of Hawkins is in danger. They're miles away and helpless, and the only possible way for El to save everyone is if she goes in alone. She's stronger than ever, but so is her foe. Once again, she descends to face all the demons of hell on her own, and Mike can't do anything.

She's losing. She's choking. She's dying. He's helpless.

He must be cursed. He must be. Being with her, loving her, allowing himself to admit he loves her, it always brings only pain and suffering and loss. His heart is so full that it's aching, it's bursting out of his chest, and he can't contain it any longer.

She's going to die and it's going to be all his fault, because he fell in love, and it's cursed her.

Just before it all crumbles into utter despair, the earnest support from his oldest and dearest friend-- one who's always shared and understood his feelings of helplessness-- sparks a light of hope in him: "You're the Heart." You're not helpless. You can save her.

The words that come spilling out of Mike's mouth are truer than any he's ever dared to speak before, and it's the most terrified he's ever been, but he has enough courage for this moment. Despite all of the fears that have been building, stifling, choking him to death for years-- fears that the light of his life will inevitably disappear again, and there's nothing he can do to stop it-- despite it all, he pours out his heart to her.

He loves her. He's always loved her. He loves everything she ever was, is, and could be. He can't imagine a world without her in it. She saved him, in every way a person can be saved. And he needs her to live. He believes in her.

And it works. It's music to her ears.

[paimonial-rage]

obvious - neuvillette

ship: neuvillette x reader synopsis: he can't understand how you always see through him. is he that easy to read? notes: 3k words

Neuvillette didn’t know when he realized it. You must’ve been visiting him for at least a year at that point. Perhaps it was because it was such a small thing, something that most people wouldn’t even raise a brow at. Or maybe it was because he wasn’t in tune with it like most humans were that it took something rather large for it to stand out. Whatever it was, the moment he noticed it, he couldn’t stop noticing every single time after. 

He still remembered the day like it was yesterday. Though he often enjoyed the rain, the weather that time around had more of a somber note. It was the day after he apologized to Miss Navia, genuinely apologized to her. All evening it felt as if his stomach was thrown about like the waves of the sea, and when daybreak finally came, he wasn’t much better. He wanted nothing more than to sit out on his balcony in the rain, but duty called and it was to Palais Mermonia he went.

Despite the storm raging outside, work went as normal. New cases were placed on his desk and visits from the Melusines were received. You arrived on time just as you regularly did in the late morning on the third day of the work week. You greeted him before entering and in your hands was a package marked with that familiar Komaniya Express logo. He remembered finding it impressive how there seemed to be no proof of the storm from the dryness of your skin.

He greeted you as he normally did, to which you returned according to custom. But even he could see the nearly imperceptible confusion within your eyes when you took the sight of him in. It made him self-conscious, as if perhaps his clothing were askew. Surely someone would’ve pointed it out before if it were that noticeable. But when concern was reflected in your eyes after, he wasn’t sure what to think. 

“Here you go, Monsieur Neuvillette. This particular batch of bottled water is from Mondstadt’s Springvale. It’s from, well, a spring where it’s rumored that a fairy lives. Included is the first volume of the book series, Heart of Clear Springs, which recounts the tale of the fairy and the promise she made with a young boy. Now I don’t know too much about Fontanian opera, but I think this one makes for an interesting story!”

“Is that so?” He asked. “Then I will have to read it for myself.”

You nodded as you first handed him the package, then a clipboard for signature.

“Yes, and tell me what you think. If you’d like me to procure the rest of the series for you, please put an order in with the Komaniya Express.”

“I will be sure to do that,” he agreed as he handed back the clipboard back to you. “Do you perhaps have some time today?”

It became a normal question of his after you curiously asked one time if he could tell the difference between the water you brought him. After that, it became a custom to sample different bottles with him whenever you had the time. It was enjoyable for him to share his hobby with someone else, even if your taste wasn’t as discerning as his. 

But when you turned him down with an apologetic smile, he couldn’t help but notice the slight twinge in his chest. Apparently, it was a busy time for the company, so you had a heavy load that day. But even though you were in a hurry, you paused at the door to his office before leaving, that look he noticed earlier back in your eyes. 

“I don’t know what happened, but try not to be too hard on yourself, Monsieur Neuvillette. It’s foolish to expect perfection, even from long-lived species like us. So cheer up, okay?” 

And with a kind smile, you then bid him adieu. 

After you left, confusion sat within him. He had been told more than once that he was a difficult person to read, but you picked up on his mood the moment you entered his office. At first, he thought it could have been because of the Steambird. The case of the previous day stole its front page. But that couldn’t have been it. You told him once you only read the paper in the evening due to starting the work day so early. So what cued you in?

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that you had always been like that, pointing out his moods. How quick you were to take one look at him and deem the day as a “good one.” Or those times after difficult conversations with Furina you’d kindly reassured him that a relaxing rainy day would come soon. A few times you even brought water from rarer places as a “pick-me-up” from the week before. 

Was he that obvious?

It made him wonder how long you had been picking up on his moods. He assumed you were only attempting to make conversation, but remembering back, you were right all those times. The days that you mentioned were good, he found himself able to sleep easily. And on the days you’d try to reassure him, there the rain would come early, but not the enjoyable kind. 

You didn’t change following that key visit. In fact, he noticed even more things about you. The days you were able to stay for a while, you did not treat him as if he were a celebrity. You could talk about recent events with ease. You’d ask him questions about recent cases and shows at the Opera Epiclese. You’d even tease him about his interest in the waters of Teyvat. With you, he felt normal, like he was any other person. 

Perhaps you stood out the most to him that day a few days after Lady Furina renounced her deityhood and left the Palais Mermonia. She left so quietly it was as if it was never her home for the past 500 years. Words could not describe the emptiness her void left him. All the thoughts of that day swirled within his mind like an unending vortex. Guilt, confusion, pain, regret—nothing could free him from the storm that was his mind. 

The day you arrived wasn’t one of your normal. It was the weekend nearing the time he ended for the day. And you had nothing in your hands, not a box nor glass bottle. One look of your face told him you already knew what happened. It didn’t surprise him. It was the headlines of the Steambird for the past few days, after all. You also weren’t a stranger to the more stressful times of the previous few weeks, doing your best to distract him with lighthearted chatter whenever you came by for delivery.

This time, you didn’t smile, nor did you point out his mood. You didn’t distract him with strange happenings on your journeys, nor bring up the news. Instead, with solemn eyes, you apologized for surprising him with such a sudden visit. You said you heard about everything that happened and you… were worried about him. Then you asked something no one else had since, well, everything.

“How are you?”

There were many ways he could’ve answered that question. He could mention the emptiness he felt when passing that vacant apartment at the top of Palais Mermonia every evening. He could chat about how it bothered him how the Melusines seemed to move on too quickly from Lady Furina’s absence. He could even talk about the guilt he still felt regarding that no doubt traumatizing trial he forcibly put her through. But he said none of those things. Instead, he answered truthfully.

“I don’t know.”

And that was the truth, wasn’t it? By all means, he should have been feeling relief. The people of Fontaine were not dissolved in water, nor was Lady Furina left weeping upon her throne alone. He received the power that was rightfully his and became a true dragon once more. It was the perfect outcome, was it not? But that was anything but he felt. 

“If you want, you can tell me about it,” you said. At his hesitation, you continued, “Sometimes talking about things with someone else can help you untangle everything you’re feeling inside.”

Were you right? He wasn’t sure. There weren’t many people he found himself opening up to. Such was rather hard as the Iudex. His words were as solid as law. It didn’t help either that he was put on a pedestal by Melusines and humans alike. They could never imagine someone like him could be privy to human emotions like themselves. But you weren’t a Fontanian, were you? And never did you treat him like a god. You saw him as he was, a person. But…

“You don’t need to if you don’t want to,” you followed up. “I do understand that not everything can be said.”

But he shook his head.

“There are so many things to be said that words are failing me.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m afraid nothing can rightfully describe what I feel about the events that have occurred.”

You nodded.

“I can see that,” you replied, seeing truth within his eyes. 

And with that, silence unfolded between you both. Though Neuvillette couldn’t quite pin it as uncomfortable, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt because of it. Here you were on possibly your day off and he couldn’t bring it within himself to be a good host. But lost in thoughts as he was, it caught him off guard when you continued.

“I may be sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I can see in your eyes that horrible wrongs have occurred. And you feel guilty over it.”

He looked away as you managed to hit a bit too on the nose. But your words weren’t sympathetic nor accusatory, simply pointing out the truth. 

“If I may, Monsieur Neuvillette, I’m sure you know this, but justice is not meant to be a preventative measure. Justice can only exist when a wrong has occurred because it is the job of justice to make things right.”

You then put your hand upon his.

“You may not be able to change the past, but you are the Iudex, the representation of justice in Fontaine. If anyone can make things right, wouldn’t that be you?”

The part that blamed himself wished to argue with you. That it wasn’t as simple as you made it out to be. That try as he may, there was still a chance he might—

“You won’t fail. Everyone knows the kind of person you are. Even if you may make a mistake or say the wrong thing, they will see the truth and intent behind your words and actions. Believe in yourself more, Monsieur Neuvillette. You are a good person. If you just try, they will understand you.”

Was that the truth? He didn’t quite know himself. There were so many things he wished to say to Lady Furina, but how could he after hurting her like that? Wouldn’t his presence only make her trauma worse? But he couldn’t argue with your words. Your eyes conveyed everything you said to be truth. You whole-heartedly believed it to be. 

“I have never understood human emotion. Knowing what to do or say has always troubled me, and I know I have hurt people before,” he began with a troubled expression before smiling at you, “But your words give me a bit of confidence.”

You laughed. 

“If I accomplished anything today, I am glad it is at least that. You are a wonderful person, Monsieur Neuvillette, and everyone seems to know that but you. Sometimes I find it sad to see.”

He coughed. 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

That evening, you were not bound by the restraints your job put upon you, so you accepted his invitation to dinner. You asked him about the future plans of Fontaine and the rebuilding efforts. He inquired about the missing package you discovered a few weeks back. And when he finally returned back to his home, for the first time in weeks, he was able to sleep with ease. 

It was ever since then that something began to change in him. Though he always enjoyed your company, he found himself inviting you to stay longer during your weekly deliveries. He’d even ask if you’d like to accompany him to showings at the Opera Epliclese. Seeing you once a week simply was not enough any longer. When you’d inevitably leave after each visit, he’d be left with a strange empty feeling in his chest. 

It most certainly didn’t help that you’d always laugh when he’d ask you to stay as if you seen through him from the very start. Your beautiful eyes would sparkle and a hint of pink would tint your cheeks. You always seemed to know when his eyes were on you, to which you’d always look away in a terrible attempt to hide the small smile upon your lips. You enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours. But it still wasn’t enough.

He decided to tell Furina about it on a day she invited him to tea. The time they spent together was always a delight, much thanks to your words of encouragement. But this time around, his admittance toward wanting you near threw his companion into a state of confusion. Pressed back against her chair with her cup of freshly spilled tea upon the floor and an incredulous flustered expression upon her face, she looked at him in horror.

“Do… Do you really not know?” She asked, doing her best to keep her voice gentle.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean. Is it… supposed to mean something?” He asked.

Furina abruptly stood with a start and began to pace within her small living room, cheeks flushed and face in hands. After a few moments, she then stopped and turned to him.

“You’ve spent hours with this person, even inviting them to spend time with you outside of work, because you feel lonely when they’re gone and still you don’t know what it means!?” She groaned.

Ignoring the way she seamlessly transitioned back into her hydro archon persona, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sheepish at her exasperation. She knew very well he did not understand emotions, but was this as big of a deal as she was making it out to be? He really didn’t think this was that important of a matter. Was there anything wrong with wishing to spend more time with you? 

“I suppose it can be said that I view them as a good friend,” he began so as to fish for the right answer. 

But apparently, it was the wrong one, for she went right back to burying her face in her hands, this time while twisting around as if trying to shake off a bug. 

“Just how many operas have you watched? Were you not paying attention to any of them?” She accused pointedly. 

She finally stabbed a finger into his chest with frustration blazing in her eyes.

“You are in love, Neuvillette. In. Love.”

Needless to say, he left her home that day with much to think about. If she was right—he didn’t doubt her words—what was he to do next? He enjoyed spending time with you, that was true. He always felt a pang of sadness whenever you left. And if he had to think about it more, he found you, well, stunning. The softness of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes—his heart soared when he was the cause of it. 

But he couldn’t exactly say if his feelings for you meant he should act on it. There were many things to consider. You weren’t from Fontaine, and your job had you on the move most of the time. As Iudex, he didn’t have much free time either. But those problems paled in comparison to the main problem at hand. 

What were your feelings for him?

Such were the state of his thoughts the next time you arrived and accepted his invitation to stay for a bit. So nervous he was with his newfound feelings that he truly didn’t know much of what he was speaking about. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest, and deep down, he was near positive you were looking right through him. You always could. 

But if that were the case, why didn’t you seem surprised? Why did you always accept his invitations? Why did your lips curl into that beautiful smile when your eyes fell upon him? Why did a flush color your cheeks whenever he asked you to stay? Why did you look at him like that, like–

“You’re in love.”

His words spoken aloud only registered in his mind when your eyes blown wide and posture froze tense. He didn’t mean to say it, he didn’t mean to speak, but the damage was already dealt. By the way your mouth hung open, it seemed you were trying to find what to say, but no words came. Eventually, you could do nothing more than to hide your face in what he could only assume to be embarrassment and outrage. 

As much guilt as he felt for throwing you into such a state, he also could not deny the sorrow that rose up within his heart. He thought you could possibly… But that was foolish, wasn’t it? He didn’t understand human emotions. He knew that. But when you looked at him like that, how could he not let his hubris rise? In the end, he was mistaken. And that mistake would cost him you. He looked away.

“I apologize–”

“Monsieur Neuvillette…” 

And just like that, his attention was brought back to you once more. How could he ignore the sound of his name upon your tongue, especially when you called it so softly? And though your hands still covered your face and your eyes seen between spread fingers still avoided his, he could see that you were not upset, nor were you ashamed. Rather, you were completely and utterly flustered as if all along, he had been–

“Am I that obvious?”

[xaeoism]

Muichiro and you get into a heated argument and it escalates Part 2 Part 3

"You expect me to believe the fact that that girl in your estate isn't some- some girl that you're cheating on me with??", you spat, venom lacing every word that came out from your mouth.

"It's true! She only came over to hang out for awhile, there's nothing going on between the two of us!", muichiro replied hastily, trying to explain himself.

You had just came back from a month long mission and decided to visit the very person that you had been missing ever since you left immediately when you returned -- muichiro. You opened the door to his estate and your eyes landed upon a random demon slayer whom you had never seen before, shamelessly flirting with him.

After she left, he came up to you with a smile as if nothing had just happened. As if some girl didn't just flirt with him. This infuriated you to no end.

"Tokito! Just how gullible do you take me for?! Do you think I'd just accept what you say, that she was here just to 'hang out' when I so very clearly saw her trying to flirt with you?", you continued as you pinched your nose bridge, anger blinding your ability to slow down and process his words.

He flinched at the tone you spoke his first name with and found himself at a loss for words.

"I only love you, ..I promise, " Muichiro said softly, not daring to look up to see what kind of expression your face has.

You looked at him and sighed in distress. "You know what? I've heard enough. I can't even find it in myself to trust your promises anymore ever since you broke the last one. If you aren't going to end things between us then fine, I will. Let's break up."

He immediately looked up, eyes widening and looking through your own as if he was searching for something, some indication that you didn't mean what you said -- that in a few moments, you'll tell him you're joking. You looked back at him with no remorse and instead, opted to walk in to retrieve the items you had left before the mission.

His eyes trailed you as you entered his room and gathered your clothes and belongings. Panic began to settle in the depths of his mind as he thought of you leaving him for good. What did he do wrong? Was he lacking in certain areas?

Just as you were about to step out of his estate, his body moved on its own. He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him before trapping you against the wall. His eyes traveled to your lips not even a second later, his lips collided with yours. He kissed you so forcibly that it shocked you, causing you to drop what you were carrying.

"Mmfph!" You put your hands on his chest and tried pushing him away but he didn't budge a single bit. Instead, he started using even more force, his arm wrapping around your waist tightly to prevent you from trying to escape him.

You couldn't escape even if you tried. Despite being a hashira, you could never win against muichiro in terms of physical strength. You were having trouble keeping up with his pace and you were running out of oxygen quickly. You became even more desperate and started to claw at his uniform, a silent plea for him to release you from his grasp.

Tears were forming in the corner of your eyes. Using the last of your energy, you decided to bite his tongue as a final attempt. He separated from you immediately when he felt the pain from his tongue. Your face was flushed and you were panting heavily, trying to let as much oxygen flow into your lungs as possible.

He looked at you and concern and guilt flooded his whole system.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me I don't know what came over me.", he said in a moment of panic.

You slowly made your way to his main door again, walking right past him and ignoring his apology.

"Wait, please-!", he pleaded, to which you stopped in your tracks. "I don't want to see you in front of my face again.", you said coldly, before you continued to walk out of his estate.

Muichiro stood at his door in sadness silently watching as you walked off into the distance, not even sparing him a glance. He wishes this never happened, that this is just some sick dream his mind is playing on him. He hopes that you haven't fully given up on the two of you yet because he certainly hasn't and fully intends on winning your love and affection back, no matter how long it takes because he loves you and only you.

[bl-bracket]

Greenest Flag Semifinals: God (Monster Next Door) vs Kurosawa (Cherry Magic)

[Submitted Reasons Under Cut]

God: “He’s incredibly considerate and nice to everyone, fellow students and school staff. Has a party to celebrate his new place and ends up setting off the smoke detector and making the whole building evacuate, but he makes sure his neighbor (who he has never met and will eventually be his boyfriend) gets out safe. He and Diew talk to each other from their own balconies and when Diew sets boundaries (talking but not seeing each other’s faces) God goes beyond to respect that, going so far as hiding his face in ridiculous ways in public. He is constantly doing tiny, unsung things to make Diew comfortable and chooses their outings accordingly. He also tells this girl to end her live stream so he can call her out for violating his privacy in a very calm and concise manner without her fans seeing. He also lets his two best friends crash at his place when those two are fighting without even questioning the whole thing.”

“God uses every moment he has with Diew to make sure Diew is comfortable, but he does it in a way that’s never overbearing. He’s warm and considerate and never pushy. Nothing he does feels like a game plan to get with Diew either. He genuinely wants the boy he loves to be happy. God’s no pushover though. He might be a giant puppy of a man, but he will defend Diew and get scrappy if he has to. Of course, this version of scrappy is to calmly tell Jane to stop being awful about Diew. Very maturely done. Very classy. And then he’s great with his friends. He cares about them and will let them crash at his place if they need to - just as long as they’re not too loud because his cute Diew won’t like it. Finally! Even when he’s drunk, he’s a big green flag. He just pats Diew and tells him he’s lovely. Adorable!”

“God is an extrovert college student who moves in next door to the introverted Diew. As soon as he learns of Diew and how he interacts with the world, he immediately adjusts himself so as not to cause distress for Diew. No matter what Diew requests, God is happy to change himself to accommodate him.”

“He genuinely enjoys others’ interests and doesn’t try to change the people he loves”

“He is the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend. He’s very respectful of Diew not wanting them to see each other’s faces, and when Diew is in trouble, God is always there to help. He respects Diew’s introverted personality, and even wants to learn about his hobbies (didn’t he read the book that Diew read in the first episode twice?). He defends Diew against Jane before Diew is ready to do it himself. Also after they became boyfriends, God makes sure and checks back in with Diew during their first kiss to make sure Diew is comfortable. (Just rewatch that scene. You’ll see.) Anyways, God is The Greenest Flag in a world of yellow flags in most other bls”

“Caring, attentive, patient”

“He’s just so lovely, asks permission for everything even just touching his crush (as everyone should) Dream boyfriend tbh”

“He is sweet, kind, always respects and encourages Diew, apologizes when necessary, is never invasive, always tries to understand and adapt to Diew’s introverted way.”

“HE’S JUST, he’s patient, caring, respects all and every single boundary his crush sets up he goes up star wearing a mask so that Diew does not know who he is (because Diew asked for more time before meeting), he express genuine interest in his now boyfriend interests and SHARES THEM with him, he goes out of his way to do and give things to him just because he wants to, HE TALKS TO HIS BOYFRIEND’S TURTLE BECAUSE HE SAW HIM DOING IT, and he does that even when NO one is around, just for the sake of it. He actually defends his boyfriend from others badmouthing and he actively creates circumstances to make him feel more comfortable and at ease, and it’s constantly communicating and asking for confirmation of stuff, and in that same vein, he always gives Diew the option to choose, to tap out, to say no, and so on. HE’S JUST GREAT AND I’M IN LOVE, THANKS”

Kurosawa: "Kind, respects boundaries, can cook."

"Literally the sweetest kindest person ever written"