Honkai Star Rail X You - Blog Posts

Fainted...⚓🛢️⛽🚨🚦

breeding kink with jing yuan or welt please? 👉👈

Hell yes! Perfect! Although I already wrote it for Welt so this will be only Jing Yuan.

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, desk sex, office sex, dirty talk, married couple, creampie

A/N: I have so many thoughts about Jing Yuan, its hard to get them all in order.

Jing Yuan loves seeing you overflowing with his seed, which is why one of his favorite positions is you bent over his desk in his office, panties around your ankles to catch any cum that falls down. He was wild in bed before but ever since you've gotten married he hasn't stopped trying to get you pregnant, might take a few tries but don't worry, he's never one to give up.

"It's okay darling, we'll keep this up for as long as it takes. I have no problem staying in that warm hole of yours all day if needed. Work? No, nothing is more important then giving you the kids that you want. You ready? Here it comes, take it all okay? Fuck... feels like... you're trying to get every drop. Good, good, take it, be my greedy slut."

You get frustrated a lot when you see how much of his cum flows out as opposed to stays inside you so you reach down and start fingering it back inside. Jing Yuan kisses your back while you do so, his hand working his cock up to full hardness once more.

"Don't be sad, I've got lots more for you, I'll make sure you have as much of my seed as possible you hear? Baby, shh, no need for those whimpers. I know, I know you feel empty, I'll give you my cock again soon. I won't leave this office without making sure your womb took my cum. I can't wait to see your belly grow round, can't wait to touch it, to feel the baby kicking."

He doesn't care how many days he has to have you in his office or his bed like this, all he wants is to breed you thoroughly, be balls deep inside you as your pussy tightens and loosens around him for the hundredth time. He starts to not even want to pull out, keeping his soft cock in there until its hardened again by the subtle twitches and spasms of your pussy walls, keeping more cum inside that way too.

"Again. Fuck, lets go again. I'm not stopping, not now, I'll fuck my heir into that pretty belly of yours. Just wait until I get hard again. Hm? More then one? Oh you thought I would stop at one? Sweetheart, if I could breed you all the time I would. Sadly that wouldn't be good for you, so how many do you want? I was thinking three kids at least."

Just a coworker

Dr ratio x g/n! reader (i tried)

Part 1, Part 2

cw. angst, super slow burn, they eventually get tgt, hurf/comfort, jealousy brr, reader is unhinged, mentions of drugs, kinda cringe but who cares I've written worse, not proofread, dr ratio is a pussy

a/n: i js wanna say fck SCHOOL FOR GIVING ME 6 PROJECTS DUE TOMORROW. THIS FIC IS MEH BUT TRUST IT GETS BETTER (hopefully…)

Veritas Ratio is a lonely man. Only having his books and his sculptures as friends— regarding the rest as no use for him.

Up till now, you've been nothing more than the pest who waves hi at him every morning, bringing him coffee every now and then. You must be scheming something, there's no way someone could ever be this nice without asking for a favour.

“Dr ratio!”

The alabaster headed man stared at you, even with that stone head of his, you can clearly feel his piercing gaze.

“What is it?”

Veritas groans in annoyance, what is it again?

Lately, you've been struggling to teach this subject. As well-versed you were in topics such as literature, history and the likes, it was true that you were above average with maths.

“I've been tutoring this kid after classes and well…”

He doesn't move, just listening intently.

“He's been asking about quantum mechanics and I don't know much about the topic so…”

“so?”

so?

“I was wondering if you can teach me it.”

God damn it, he has better things to do.

“Then read a book about it”

His eyes were trained on your figure as he saw you tense, just why him of all people?

“Dr ratio, just this once. I just need to learn the basics once and I won't bother you again!”

He closed his codex and turned the other way, ready to walk away from conversation.

“I have better things to do than humouring your foolish antics—”

“Please.”

Your hands fidget nervously as he paused before looking back at you, pondering whether to do you a favour.

“I'll think about it.”

By the time you blinked, he was gone.

The next day passed, you were at his door, clutching your teaching materials as you waited for veritas’ class to end.

He scrunched nose as annoyance rose in him like a tide, he could see you waiting at the window and checking the time every now and then.

“That ends our discussion for today.”

His voice echoing on the walls as the bell rang, his students already out the door.

After a good 10 minutes, most of the students were out the door as he was left alone with himself (+ those eyes of yours that never seem to leave him alone)

“It's rude to stare.”

His comment caught you off guard, the corners of your lips twitching nervously as you hid behind the wall again— shit, he caught you staring…

Veritas let out a sigh before cleaning his desk of the sparse test papers he's collected last week.

A moment of silence passed before you mustered up the courage to enter the spacious room, it was… quiet to say the least.

“Dr. Ratio—”

“I'll tutor you but with one condition.”

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you nervously anticipated what he's about to say. (Did I mention he paused to rile you up?)

“You,”

A click on his cabinet was heard before he turned at your direction to get a better look at you.

“That I won't have to tutor you again next time, just this once”

It was odd, a teacher asking for tutoring from a fellow teacher? It wasn't uncommon but it certainly irked him of the thought. You could just read a book about it but you'd rather take his precious hours in his day for something you could do yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“whew… I thought you were going to refuse.”

“Do you want me to?”

You shook your head no, gripping your satchel tightly.

“Tomorrow at the faculty room after classes—”

When you blinked, he was already behind you. Was he a magician or something?!?

“—Don't be late.”

Then, the door closed abruptly, now it was only you in the room.

…

The next day, classes already ended and you cleaned up your desk to get to the faculty room.

As you slid the door open, he was already waiting for you.

“What're you doing?”

Veritas moved another chess piece on the board, eating the white team's queen.

“What does it look like I'm doing?”

Why can't he just be nice for once?

“Whatever, so… do we start reviewing?”

You pulled the chair opposite to his and sat down. He didn't reply, only tapping his feet.

“Your turn.”

“Do I just?—”

“Just move a piece.”

Fine then. There were barely any pieces left on the board, leaving you with no other choice as you hid your king at the corner of the board.

“Checkmate.”

There was a visible annoyance on your face, making veritas chuckle.

“Seriously? When are you going to start tutoring me? I came here to learn something— not some stupid chess game”

“First of all, chess isn't stupid”

Before you knew it, veritas flicked your forehead.

“Second of all, learn patience.”

“ow!”

Veritas hid away the board and grabbed all the books needed, pulling out some notes and highlighters for you.

“Read”

The man in front of you flipped the pages and pointed at the highlighted paragraph for you. Was he making you read out loud? Were you 10 or something?

“Do I really have to?”

His fingers tapped aggressively on the board, his patience was thinning and you weren't even past the first page yet.

“Just do it.”

…

Who could've guessed two hours later you would be in tears, notes sprawled all over the table and veritas shouting at you.

“Idiot.”

He commented on your work before rewriting the entire thing for you and repeating it again.

“God dammit we're not even past the 20th page yet you're here crying like a child.”

Sniffles echoed in the room, only his lamp illuminating the room. You checked your phone and it was already 8 pm.

“Now read.”

“Q-quantum mechanics…”

He clenched his jaw, raising his voice at you before you could continue.

“You imbecile, not that— can't you read?!? Its wave function!”

“Whatever!”

Before he could react, you stood up, bag already in hand and walking away.

“We're not done yet.”

“I don’t care.”

Just like that, you were gone.

…

Despite you running off yesterday… There you were sitting on that same chair with the alabaster head man right in front of you.

“Again?”

You bit your lip nervously before tightening the grip on your pen.

“Yeah.”

Veritas nodded as he placed down his codex and walked to the sprawled shelves at his desk, his fingers tracing over the books (those books were rotting on those shelves, too dusty he had to wipe them)

“here.”

He took the book off the shelf and thrusted it into your hands.

‘The nonlinear schrodinger equation’

“Let's start with the ‘weakly nonlinear dispersion relation’ topic.”

Time flies by as he explains each term to you, giving definition after definition about each equation in front of you.

“Here, page 24.”

He pointed at the first equation but your eyes couldn't leave his stone head.

For an intimidating man, he's getting quite patient with you.

“— and let's compute the coefficients, after that,”

You couldn't stop wondering what he looked like under that stone head. It's hot out here, he must be sweating a tsunami in there. Is he handsome? or maybe he's wearing that stone head because he looks that bad?

“—the quantum mechanical pressure becomes negligible in the ‘semiclassical’ where nabla and—”

He hit your head with a codex, with no hesitation at all.

“ow!”

Oh shit— he must've noticed you staring.

“What were we reviewing?”

uh…

You gulped nervously, looking down at the page, you guys were already at page 26?!?

“0 points.”

He smacked you but with less force, though enough to leave a bruise.

“that hurt…”

“Then listen, don't waste my time.”

Under that alabaster head of his, a small smile formed from the corner of his lips due to the amusing sight before him.

“You're annoying, let's go over the fluid-dynamical form again.”

You weren't that boring after all.

…

You both were already at page 31, which was slow progress (at least to him, he can finish the book in under 3 hours.), yet still progress nonetheless.

“Do you get it now?”

It was already 9:58 pm, shit. You both got carried away…

“Yeah.”

Veritas handed the book over to you and hid away his highlighters.

“Go review at home— you better finish page 40.”

You nod, shoving the book into your satchel and your water bottle.

Today was… fun.

As you walked outside, one foot already out the door, you looked back.

“What?”

“and…”

There was a moment of silence, none of you moving before your voice shook,

“Thank you.”

He didn't say anything back, only putting back his folders in his bag as he removed his attention from you. You shook your head and just walked home.

…

It was the third day of him tutoring you, you were getting quite good.

“And how do you do the hamilton equation?”

There was a weird habit you did, you would bite your pen or sometimes click it nonstop due to stress (which you did now, don't do it too much though, you'll piss off veritas.)

You let out a soft hum before confidently writing the equation, no error in sight.

“And these quantities are called?”

“They're uh… momentas, right?”

“20 points— you're getting good at this.”

Receiving praise from others came by often, but to get one from the Dr. Veritas Ratio himself? You could wish.

Your eyes were glued at the scratch paper, unable to contain your smile; the aeons definitely smiled down on you and blessed you with his attention for today.

He takes note of this, but doesn't comment on that any further, only flipping the pages.

…

The fourth day. It was 2 pm, 3 hours earlier than the usual tutor hours. A new coffee shop opened in the food court at the university, which turned into the new buzz (the old coffee shops were shit.)

The line was long, your legs were about to give up but your students would occasionally suggest this shop, saying it's definitely better than the instant coffee at the teacher's lounge.

After 5 more minutes, it was finally your turn to order.

“Good afternoon! What can I get ya?”

The menu was definitely diverse, candy corn flavoured coffee? That's new.

“I'll take your special cappuccino”

The cheerful cashier jotted down your order, asking for your name then running to the back.

You sat down at some table and took out your laptop, fixing your schedules for this weekend.

“For ___?”

Eh? That was fast. It only took them 3 minutes to make your order despite the heavy line? Impressive.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and snatched the cup from the counter and walked back to your seat.

It tasted funny. Coffee jelly in cappuccino with sprinkles on top? At Least it tasted good.

“And here I was wondering where you are.”

“ack!”

You looked up and saw veritas in front of you, looming over you with his codex behind him after he hit you.

“that hurt…”

He sighed and sat down next to you while you rubbed the bruised area.

“Stop hitting people with your codex damn it!”

“I find it far more interesting to use my codex to get your attention.”

“Weirdo.”

He chuckled at the way scoffed, sipping your coffee and typing some requirements on an excel sheet.

“Anyways, why were you looking for me?”

He leaned back on the couch, before responding,

“Nothing, I was just wondering where the idiot was.”

“You little—”

Only a soft sigh left your lips as you continued to type, veritas beside you reading his codex and none of you saying a word.

Though this peaceful moment was short lived as the bell rang, signalling that the two of you had to go back to your respective classes.

Veritas sat up, closing his book.

“It's time for me to go.”

“Oh yeah.”

Veritas was gone in a blink of an eye, what's up with him disappearing so suddenly 24/7?!?

…

5 pm.

You were patiently waiting in the faculty room, what was taking veritas so long?

“You're late”

Veritas rolled his eyes— wait.

His stone head was… was this really the veritas ratio? He had nice purple hair, his eyes, he looked so… beautiful.

No way.

“When are you going to stop staring?”

“Oh— uh.”

You chuckled nervously before forcing a smile as he sat down in front of you.

“Let's continue where we let off.”

The sound of flipping pages reverberated across the room, your eyes locked onto his face. He would occasionally click his tongue at some parts of the book, guiding you through each equation as his face was close to yours; enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“—because its transformation φ is a symmetry and thus preserves the Lagrangian L and the action ,S=∫L”

Veritas ratio leaned closer to you, your hands touching as he got closer,

“Do you get it now?”

You didn't. You were too focused on his face, with every wrinkle of his brows, the tiniest details of his jaw and hell, even his eyes. How could you even focus? With his face inches away from yours? No way. The man right next to you stares at you, tapping his fingers on the mahogany table; he repeated himself.

“I said, do you get it now?”

Like the air was sucked out of your lungs, your last card was to lie but he was smart enough to not fall for that.

“Y-yes”

“Then what were we reviewing just now?”

He rolled his eyes hearing your mind blank out and confused ‘uhhs’ escaped your lips. You flinch from his harsh tone, as the cold stare turned into a glare.

“We should be reviewing the noether theorem, not my face.”

He made you solve equation after equation, his gaze not leaving you once as he crumpled your papers even after one minor mistake, “Idiot”, “Do it again.”, and “Are you really paying attention?” Constantly rang in your ears, you were not sure whether you asked for a tutoring session or a three hour insulting session from the revered professor.

“I'm sorry.”, He sighed at your visible frustration as you apologised through gritted teeth. He started to pity you when you struggled with just the terms at the next lesson. Was this theorem that hard? He dropped his pen and closed the book.

“Let’s end today’s session.”

A look of relief appeared on your face as he said those words, clearly, he’ll give you a break—

“Just read this book instead. It gives a more in-depth explanation”

— or not. He thrusted the book in your hands and put on his alabaster head, making you raise an eyebrow,

“What? You can’t seem to focus without this on”

You laughed an awkward chuckle while sliding the book in your satchel, a small squeak was heard when he stood up and moved his chair at his desk.

“Tomorrow again?”

“Sure.”

…

Veritas tapped his feet aggressively as time past by, you were late by 20 minutes, by now he would've left but for some reason he's feeling nice today that he'll wait for you.

The faculty room door slid open as light footsteps entered the room.

“Sorry ‘m late.”

You smelled different today. That would sound creepy to the average person but despite the tight alabaster sculpture that covers his face, he could smell your perfume and that he's gotten used to your scent by now.

“Did you wear something new?”

“Come again?”

He took one glance at you and shook his head and shifted his attention to the complex arithmetics on his codex.

“Hey, what did you mean by that?”

It was hard to ignore you as he tried to mute your voice but he let out an inaudible sigh before taking a quick glance at you.

“I meant your perfume, idiot.”

“No need to be rude.” you scoffed and placed down your bag at your desk.

He finds himself eager for a response as your right hand shuffled in your bag looking for the perfume bottle,

“I just tried something new.”

“Oh?”

He leans over the table to take a closer look at the bottle, inspecting it with a skeptical look one he's glad you cannot see through his sculpted head.

“It was a gift from one of our coworkers here”

There was a loud slamming sound that rang in the room when you dropped the materials Veritas made you read, it was a pain highlighting everything.

“From who?”

Why was he suddenly interested? He's not one to ask about anyone's affairs so suddenly, not that he'd care about something so miniscule about you like perfume yet you humour him.

“From Amir, the history prof guy?”

“I see.” For some reason, he finds himself feeling annoyed after hearing who you got it from. Why would you accept a gift from that idiot? He's a far better history professor, definitely? definitely.

Hours passed yet he couldn't concentrate. Not with that foul stench of your new perfume of yours.

Dr. Ratio scrunched his nose in disgust as he continued to guide you through each and every lesson, harsher than usual— you didn't know why.

“Wrong answer, 2 points.”

Veritas smacked your arm with his heavy codex and snatched your answer sheet, crumpling it and tossing it in the bin.

“Do it again.”

This fucker. You were starting to lose your resolve but you do not falter under his scrutinising gaze.

Again and again. Another 30 minutes yet your answers didn't seem ‘perfect’ enough.

Veritas clicked his tongue in annoyance as you failed to answer another simple question again

“Are you even paying attention?”

“If you didn't yell at me every minute I would've”

You continued to write more equations as he rolled his eyes at your reply, his eyes scanned your work and it was okay (atleast to his standards).

His eyes squinted, looking for any mistake but there was none, he gave up.

“50 points”, he spoke in a defeated tone.

“Just 50?”

“0 points then”

“Oh come on.”

It was hell getting tutored by him.

A/N: ITS TWO PARTS COS FUCK TUMBLR AND TOLD ME THERES A WORD LIMIT LOL. THE FULL FIC WAS LIKE 6.4K WORDS OR SHIT DAMN. ITS SO CRINGE ONG IMMA POST PART TWO TMRW GOD. IM LAGG>NG SO NAD RN HELP

Friends

Jing yuan x g/n!reader

Summary: The xianzhou citizens don't often indulge in romance, to love is to one day see yourself fall into the embrace of mara— to let your lover witness it. Some still love, some deny themselves of such feelings.

Cw. Angst, unrequited love (not really), getting drunk, mixed signals, implied sexual stuff and a little bit of that but they don't actually do it (i think), no fluff no comfort because that shit is for the weak

A/n: Did I cry writing this? Yes. Was it worth it? I don't know.

Love.

noun

an intense feeling of deep affection.

He wonders if you ever noticed how he felt about you. Lingering gazes lasting deeper than it should, ‘accidental’ brushes against your hand or how he finds himself dropping everything he's doing just to be with you.

“Jing yuan, your move.”

Your words snap him back to reality, he awkwardly bit his lip, his focus back on the board. Right.

He wonders as he moves his piece two tiles forward, would you ever get wind of these growing feelings of his? If you did,

“Checkmate.”

Would you feel the same?

A light chuckle leaves his lips, the sight of your frustrated expression ingrained in his mind, like every memory he has of you.

A loud slam echoed in the room, “How do you always win?”

“You make brash decisions on the board,” Jing yuan backtracks the pieces before the soul-crushing checkmate, he positioned your pieces, “It should've gone here, you could've blocked my move.”

An exasperated sigh escapes you, clamping chunks of your hair frustratedly after realising you could've won, “I hate you.”

The man laughs as he tidies up the table, eyes still trained on you.

He doesn't know how and why you both ended up in this position.

Your relationship was complicated.

He doesn't understand you.

Sometimes you'd hold his hand, tell him all your secrets like he were a priest at a confessional, take care of him and everything of the like.

Yet, you always pushed him away. He'd sit right beside you, looking over your shoulder to read the novel you recently took interest in. As if he were a bug, you'd swat him away for being too close.

“Ji, don't get too close. I'm melting from the heat.” you say, but it was winter?

He doesn't understand love at all.

He loves mimi, he loves starchess, he loves his family (the high-cloud quintet, or should I say, ex-family), he loves tea, he loves his home.

Sometimes you two would go out to the library, indulging in me-time, faces buried in pages.

“Jing yuan, have you found a book about that one novel I told you about?” He shook his head no, he doesn't indulge in fictional work that often. But you loved novels.

“I think I found it.” He wipes the dust off the book spine. ‘How to fall in love with a genius’, what a strange book title.

“Really?” quietly tiptoeing towards his direction, the library lady eyeing you two; you had a habit of making too much noise, leading to the bookkeeper scolding you both.

“Here,” he blew over the cover, dust particles puffing in your face.

“Bastard—” words barely audible as you spoke in-between coughs, “Thanks though”

The bookkeeper glaring at you two, sending shivers down your spine. The idiot laughs again, you slap his back.

You both get kicked out.

Friends don't get drunk together, friends don't cuddle, friend's don't do this.

Like ‘friends’, you cling to him in his bed, head nuzzled in his neck. Jing yuan was scared to hug you or even dare to hold your waist.

He can only get a taste of heaven but never the real thing, you can hug him yet when he reciprocates he's too close.

He envies at how audacious you are. That you're not afraid to hold him like he's yours but he could never call you his. How you could just stare at him with those loving resplendent eyes but he could never stare longer at yours.

This time however, he wishes he slept in, he wishes he told you he was busy, that he doesn't want to hang out today.

One drink turned to two, two drinks turned to three. More, more and more, until you're on top of him, all of him you can see.

“Ji.”

How cruel you are. Straddled on his lap as he was laid against the pearly sheets of his bed, your eyes devoid of light as your free hand tug on the hem of his shirt, “Jing yuan, I'm sorry”

You cried again, gripping his shirt tightly. Why can't he push you away?

Tears spill out as you desperately wanted to love him, as he did too. But was it really love?

“I love you.” he accidentally slips out.

Your eyes widened in fear, you tried to convince yourself you didn't hear anything as you grind your hips on his lap, croaking out a guttural moan.

“Please,” you grinded faster, your hips burning, you prayed to god that what you heard was a lie, that you misheard him.

He groans in desperation, hands on your hips, “I really love you.”

Without a second thought, as if you were sober, you swatted his hand away and got off his lap. He stares at you like you were a madman— why did you suddenly stop?

He wishes he was drunk enough to indulge in you that night, but sober enough to have never said that.

He sat up, his hand reaching out for you but you swat it away again, “Stop.”

A sob stuck in his throat, heavy breaths drowning out the wanton moans from earlier.

“I…”

He wishes he never even loved you in the first place.

Tomorrow came, those lingering gazes on each other no more, those playful banters dissipated into thin air.

He can't bring himself to confront you, too scared to accept what's become to the two of you.

“Ji— General. Documents from Madam Yukong”

The way your eyes dart to anything but him, he bit his lip anxiously, “Yes, thank you. You may leave now.”

As if nothing happened last night, you bowed your head and ran away as quickly as possible. Does he even have the courage to ask you for another game of starchess?

Days passed yet no progress. Your relationship has turned into a strictly professional one. So cold to each other, yanqing and fu xuan can't wrap their hands around what could've happened but they don't have it in them to ask what happened.

The general signed paperwork, like usual. Not noticing loud thumping footsteps nearing his desk.

“General,” a part of him wished it was your voice.

“Yes yanqing?”

“They've turned in their resignation paper”

Oh. Huh?

He thinks yanqing is joking. Not when his dear retainer thrusts the documents to his hand does he realise he's really lost you.

“For what exactly?” he asks as if he doesn't know the answer.

Yanqing sighs, “I'm not sure either, but they talked about retiring.”

“They're too young to retire,” the man scratched his head, his mind racing with a million thoughts and a million regrets.

“General, they're 630 years old”

“Oh right,” he gave his retainer a weak smile, hoping the young boy doesn't notice the uneasiness in his eyes when he read through the contents, “I shall talk to them before I approve their resignation. You may leave.”

Yanqing nods, taking his leave as Jing yuan trembles. He's lost the high-cloud quintet, does fate have to take you too in its stride, far away from him?

He was okay with just being friends with you.

Jing yuan called for you in his private garden, he didn't expect you to actually come especially after that.

“You came.”

“You called,” your eyes as empty as that one night.

He tried his best to hold back the tears, heart burning yet he had to remain professional. After all, he was your boss.

“Yanqing brought me your resignation request.” he pauses, unable to find the right words.

Normally, if an employee of his decides to resign, he'd sign away their request and carry on with his life but this— how could he just sign so easily?

“Have you not signed it yet?”

“No.” he can't bring himself to.

Your fingers found solace under the table, fiddling and fidgeting together but you'd rather die than let the man in front of you notice it, “Can't you just sign it?”

“It's just… you've been working with me since the high-cloud quintet and it's not that easy.”

“How so?”

“We’d lose an important member of society, your contributions to the mechanical team have been beneficial,” he tapped his foot aggressively, agitated. “Can't you think twice about it?”

Without hesitation, “I can't. I'm getting old, sooner or later I'd die—”

He listens, not interrupting you, “— I don't want to die without living.”

Living? What a lie. You've been more alive by his side more than anything.

“What exactly do you mean by living?”

He pretends to not understand, he wishes you'd just take him into consideration and talk to him like he was Jing yuan, not the general arbiter.

“You know what I mean,” the air sucked out of your lungs, why did he have to make you say it out loud?

“I want to live. I want to be finally free of my duties, get married, and retire.”

He nodded along with your words, he felt sick. Sicker than he ever was in his life.

“I wish you told me sooner”

“What good would it bring?”

“I just wished you were honest from the start.”

The words were once stuck again in your throat, trying to blink nonstop to not let those pathetic tears spill out, “This is for me—”

“What about me?”

Desperation laced in his tone, he wishes you'd give him a chance, that you'd let him in.

“What about you?”

You wonder, what about him? He wants to ask, what about us?

“This is about me,” neither of you could find the words, but you try.

“I want to live,” forlorn, not a glimmer of hope in your eyes, he wishes on a sliver of hope, “Is that too much to ask?”

Yet life is cruel. It was a mistake trying to be more than friends with you, again; he wished he stayed as friends with you. He would have been fine with anything.

For your own good, “I understand.”

Jing yuan reluctantly took his pen, staring at the paper. He signed.

“Thank you.”

He signed you away, at least now, there's no more need for formalities. He is no longer your boss, he is just jing yuan to you.

“I… “ his mouth snapped shut.

“No more words, general?”

As selfish as it sounds, he wants to tell you that he's willing to leave this life behind. That if you want to live, he'll live with you, if you want to marry, he'll marry you. If you want to retire, he'll retire with you.

But duty calls, he can't just stop being ‘general arbiter’ in a heartbeat for you. He wishes he could.

It's not that hot outside today, but he feels like burning.

“Ah, nothing. Where will you go now?”

“It doesn't matter, I'll just go somewhere, live alone or maybe start a new life.”

“I wish luck for your future endeavours.”

Jing yuan has never been selfish. This time however, he wishes he wasn't the general. He wishes he was just a normal man, he wishes he had the privilege, that he had the choice to be your man.

You could no longer handle being under this suffocating atmosphere, “Can I leave now?”

“By all means.”

That was the last time he talked to you, he wonders, he wishes, that he was anyone but him. Not even he could have foreseen this.

When your footsteps grew quieter as you were farther away from him, he cried.

It's been long since he's cried… years, centuries perhaps.

He's lost his family, he's lost you too. All because he wanted to be more than friends.

He wonders if you cried too, if you'd come back. It's for the best.

In due time, one of you will turn mara struck. He doesn't have the heart to see you in that state. But he wishes you gave him the chance to love you, even for just two years. A year or two is all he needs to be content.

None of that matters, he wipes his tears. Reporting back to the seat of divine foresight.

Note: not proofread so dont laugh. 😔😔😔 Before one of you bitches say, who hurt you, who hurt you? No, this is just me projecting with my cupioromantic and aromantic tendencies. ITS SO COMMON TO SEE MC BEING THE ONE GETTING REJECTEd BUT NOT THE CHARACTER GETTING REJECTED I NEED MORE FICS WITH THIS PLOT GRRRRR 😟. ITS 3:16 AM FUCK SLEEP FUCK IT ALL GRRRR

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY ೀ kafka & blade ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ‘oh girl, don’t hold back - let it out!’

𝓦ARNINGS ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ fem!reader - threesome - drug use - dubcon [themes] - slowburn - ft. jing yuan - overstimulation - blade has a crush on the reader - cunnilingus - reader is a bit of a pushover - roommate!kafka - ex-stepsister!kafka - sexting - cum eating [?] - creampie - asphyxiation && gagging - praise - grinding - making out - spit - dumbification - kafka is . . kafka - masturbation [f. & m.] - orgasm control - squirting - creampie - mating press - everybody is slightly ooc - not proofread - minors & dark content antis do not interact ! ! !

𝓐UTHOR’S 𝓝OTE ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ hihii first full fic ^3^ n first post ! ! so welcome 2 my acc,, m name is echo n i’m pleased to meet u 🫡 eek ‘m so excited, i’ve been sittin n workin on this idea for a while so i hope u enjoy it ! i listened to kiss land by the weeknd writing this and i think it fits rly well sooo >_o this is dark content so viewer discretion advised ! please don’t read if not ur taste T_T im posting this later than expected m soo sry :c reblogs n feedback very appreciated cuz the guidelines r gna get mi < / 3 ! !

𝓔CHOES ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ kiss land , the weeknd - valentina , daniel caesar - fill the void , the weeknd - sdp interlude , travis scott - the worst guys , childish gambino & chance the rapper .

𝓦ORD 𝓒OUNT ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ 20.7k+

SHE CARRIES A distinct scent with her: cinnamon, champagne…and a twinge of mischief. It flurries in the air and infects your brain like the plague. She had this certain cadence about her: an aura drawn up in a slick figure and even slicker tongue, characterized by a sultry red color. That was Kafka. She's a bombshell, delivering a traumatic shock that you can only hope to forget. You tried to forget — tried to cloud that era of your life to no avail. She kicked down the rock blockade you'd built, welcoming herself into your life again with an impressive amount of effort.

“Elio said she has nowhere to go! She can't stay with him because he moved into a one-bedroom after the divorce! She's about to be couch-hopping at 22 — it’s sad!!” your mother whined. Her emphasis lay on certain words, pathetic tones emanating from the manipulation of her words. You're weak, standing hunched with a backbone made of cotton candy. “But, mom—” “And she begged Elio not to bother us—bother you—but he did it anyway because we’re always family. Family needs each other, family depends on one another.”

She'd pestered a yes out of you, and since the syllable passed through your lips, you've been counting your blessings.

After all, Kafka was an all-devouring curse: blessings were her kryptonite.

Exactly one week later, you bit your nails anxiously and breathed deeply so much so that you got lightheaded. It's been years, she may have changed, you comforted yourself. Your mind worked on its splintering tooth and nail to soothe your wild imagination. Kafka was always going to be Kafka — it was just a matter of whether she developed or if she enabled perversion.

When she engulfed you in a hug you almost passed out smelling her again. Hearing her was another thing, seeing her was even worse. Smelling her — that warm, spicy scent that burns but entices was the pinch to reality you needed. In the flesh, Kafka stood. In all of her menacing glory - ready to flip your world upside down.

“Missed you, little mouse. Ugh, how’ve you been?” you fought the urge to shiver. The nickname and her ever-tickling tone — God, you weren't prepared.

“Good,” is all you muttered. ‘Way better before.’ you wanted to add.

“Mmm, good, I'm glad. I got nervous when Mom said my baby moved out all alone.”

My baby. You could really just…die. She was just as charismatic as before. Possibly even more, given her blatant maturity. You would think it was a play on your age, but truly it was endearment from her: her form of caring for you.

“Who would've thought we’d be living together again? We’re gonna have so much fun!” In the giggle that slipped from her throat, lies mischief. She picks up a box out of the trunk, turning on her heels with the biggest, most Kafka smile ever. She was always…unique in her definitions of fun. One could only imagine the roller coaster you were riding.

When you make your way to your apartment, you just breathe. Breathing is the only thing that can stabilize you. The jumble of nerves that bounce around inside of you relaxes at your exhales. You're not shaking anymore, or feeling your skin heat and clam up, making it easy to lead Kafka into her room.

“Oh, wow. All this space, all alone? You've really grown up, little mouse.” She compliments with a sigh. The box in her hands now sits on the ground. You flush, dusting your hands on your shirt, “Oh, thanks. Mom helps from time to time.” Even though you would much rather have your independence.

She looks around at the space, the room occupied by nothing except a naked bed and an empty dresser. It's an awkward 30-second silence before she breaks it, “Thank you, again. You're really saving my ass,”

And again, you're wrapped in Kafka’s arms, forced to awkwardly pat her back and stare at the wall across from you as if it were to save you. “No problem…again,”

The hug you share births goosebumps on your skin. Her hands glide across the small of your back, nimble fingers dancing lightly across the surface. The tickle is the least of your worries — the blooms of heat that surge in her wake are what blows your eyes wide open. Kafka’s hugs are tight and warm. Almost comforting if it wasn't for the way she ghosted her lips over your ear just right, making you tense. You hate it because it's something you've grown used to. You like it a lot more than you probably should, actively leaning into her touch after a few seconds.

“We should probably get the rest of your boxes…” You mutter. Kafka sighs, pulling off of you slowly. It's almost as if she's savoring the feeling of you in her hands. “I’ll get them. I shouldn't inconvenience you more—”

“—It’s fine. I don't mind helping,” She laughs and squishes your cheeks between her fingers, “You're too cute.” booping your nose for emphasis.

And she couldn't stop saying it. It almost felt condescending the way “You're so cute,” fell from her lips every time you did something. Your out-of-breath huffs or triumphant sighs elicited the remark again and again as you hauled her luggage up to your apartment. You gave up by the last box and stretched out on her floor, and Kafka only laughs harder as she begins to unpack.

“Do you want me to help you?” You groggily breathe out. Moving is exhausting, and you're not even the one moving.

Tucking the sleeves of the shirt as she folds, Kafka shakes her head no with a chuckle. “You can help me by showering. I'll finish up and order some food, ‘kay? Consider it my thanks.”

“But you've already thanked me—” “—And I'm doing it again.” She cuts you off. Your eyes meet and she cracks a smile, “C’mon, up you go. The longer you take, the longer you have to wait to sleep.”

Kafka is someone impossible to argue with. You swipe your tongue over your teeth to fight off a smile…but her gaze is warm. It makes you nervous in the weirdest way, and your lips stretch wide. Defeatedly, you nod, “If you say so.”

ೀ

The sun retired for the night and in an hour, you'd showered, dressed, met Kafka in the living room, caught up with a shot or two slipped in the mix, and dug into the XL pizza she ordered. It was your favorite toppings—you were shocked, to say the least, that she remembered.

“Enough about me,” She grabs hold of the conversation, placing her plate down on the coffee table—and you hide the cringing your face defaults to with a crooked smile and nod. “What about you? How was finishing high school? Starting university? Is Mom still…Mom?”

You awkwardly giggle, placing the plate in your lap. “The answer to the last question is yes. She's never changing, I fear.”

“But…I've been good, really. I keep saying it but it's true; grades are good, friends are good, and Mom is as good as she could get—” more laughter, “—but, yeah. I'm not traveling like you, Kafka. I barely leave my apartment unless it's to go to class. I'm stable, and I'm good. Nothing to tell.”

Kafka eyes you critically as if she's trying to read you. There's nothing to find because as you said, there's nothing to tell. You've always been the stickler goody-two-shoes type: abiding by rules and expectations and never deviating from your white-picket-lined path. It wasn't perfect, and never always good, but it was enough. Enough that you could say with your whole chest that you're okay with being boring…because, well—it’s all you've really known.

She walked into your life as your sister at eleven and walked right back out at fifteen. In four years, you'd been enlightened to a dark side of the world, but you were always too timid. Kafka was a playful cat, ready to paw at her sheepish little mouse until you played back.

Back then, you were too young, and under the palm of your mother to enter rebellion. Now, you're free…somewhat. Kafka was determined to help you spread your wings. She was going to plant the seed in your ear and let it sprout: “It’s your world,” She says. “isn't it about time you live? The way you want to? You're a big girl now — you deserve a story to tell.”

She can tell by the widening of your eyes that the conversation is bordering on too much. “Uhh, I don't know. I'm happy right now—”

“Happiness is temporary. Memories are forever.”

And while she makes a good point…what exactly would you do? How?

Her head tilts and her eyebrow lifts tentatively. She wants to ask how far are you willing to go, but the conversation is far too premature. “It all depends on you, little mouse,” is what she settles on instead. “I’ll be ready to lend a helping hand when you need me.”

The conversation takes a thoughtful pause. Your head seems to fill with thoughts and returning to her now chilled pizza, Kafka pats herself on the back. You're going to spread your wings and flourish, and she prides herself on giving you the route. It's only a matter of time, she thinks. A matter of time before the real fun emerges.

“Oh, by the way,” she interrupts the silence, “do you mind if I have a few friends over tomorrow? They wanna throw me a housewarming party.”

“Um, no, it's fine. My study group is coming over tomorrow after my classes so try maybe before? Or after that—we won't take long.” You miss the deviousness in her smirk.

With a final bite of her pizza, she nods. “Of course.”

ೀ

Jing Yuan is so charming.

He flashes you a Cheshire smile and you find yourself stumbling over your sentences. You palm your face, embarrassed, and let out a shy giggle. His deep chuckle follows and you almost don't want to look at him again.

Fu Xuan kisses her teeth and rolls her eyes. “Lay off the flirting, would you? Can't leave you two alone for a second...”

She joins the pair of you at the end of the courtyard, golden eyes narrowing. There's an awkwardness that creeps up, and you smile nervously while Jing Yuan scratches his neck. He displays a coy smirk that you avoid looking at — opting to rock on your heels and check in the distance for Yukong.

You and Jing Yuan are classmates; friends, even, if he were to agree with that sentiment. Though your crowds don't particularly mix, you find some comfort in one another. Albeit, most of your time is spent tutoring him. It's nice, nonetheless.

You're not opposed to liking him—in fact, you're smitten with him—but you doubt the feeling is mutual. He's Jing Yuan and you're…you.

His question reaches your ears, breaching your train of thought: “Is Yukong still joining us?”

The way he turns to you makes you shy, and you shrug in place of your words. “Umm, ‘dunno. She said so, but something must’ve come up.”

“Well, in any case, let’s just head to yours. She has the address.” Fu Xuan replies exasperatedly. Jing Yuan shrugs, “If that’s okay with you?”

You perk up at his kindness, and Fu Xuan groans, rolling her eyes. “Uh, yeah! Sure!” With your eyes glued to Jing Yuan’s pleased smile, you miss how Fu Xuan mocks you.

“Can we go now?!”

The three of you quickly commute back to your apartment. It's a nice fifteen-minute walk—even nicer when Jing Yuan let you talk his ear off the entire way. Fu Xuan was paces ahead of the two of you, grumbling under her breath about how she should've said no and cursing to Yukong for leaving her with you.

You've been studying together for a while, but you've never brought them over. Your sessions usually take place at the campus library or the local cafe, so to say you're a bit nervous is an understatement.

Not only have they never been over, but you have Kafka. She’s a wildcard and you can only pray that she's on her best behavior.

Your key spins in the hole and you push the door open. Over your shoulder, you mutter, “I think my…sister’s home so she might come and say hi.”

You hope that's the most that she’ll do.

Upon entry, there's a potent, herbal smell floating around the air. It's slightly smoky, and your throat tightens up. You turn around at your guests and cringe at their upturned noses and scrutinizing gazes. “Uhh…”

“Wait right here…um…” you murmur. You don't wait for their responses before speeding toward Kafka’s room.

The stench is stronger in the hallway and her music is even louder. The bass jumps through the floorboards and you doubt she’ll even hear your knocks — but you do it anyway. Knock knock knock.

No response.

You bounce on your heels nervously, peeking out and seeing Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan talking awkwardly by the door. Your nerves overcome you and you hurriedly knock again. “Kafka! I need to talk to you — Kafka!!”

You keep knocking on the door until the music stops and the door swings open. A cloud of smoke hits you immediately and you fall into a coughing fit, waving the smoke out of your face. “Good God…”

“Oh—my bad!” She laughs at you, turning over her shoulder to her friends and sharing the amusement. Her heavy-lidded eyes fall back onto you, and she leans on the door for support. “What do you need, little mouse?”

“Um…” you look over her shoulder and see her guests in her room. A silver-haired girl rests on her bed and types away on her phone, and a black-haired guy sits on the floor - his low eyes on you as he breathes out a cloud of smoke. You didn't know what to expect but you aren't surprised. You're more…uncomfortable. “Um, yeah — my study group is over and it smells like…yeah.”

Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “That's right now?! Oh, I'm sorry—Silvie and Bladie came over early and I didn't know you’d be back so soon.”

Silvie and Bladie…interesting names.

You nod to her response. “…Yeah…I don't mind you…smoking or whatever but please open a window? It's very strong and it travels and I don't want the landlord to throw a fit.”

“Yeah, of course. Bladie!” She calls out over her shoulder. The guy—Bladie—doesn’t respond, but only perks up. “Crack open the window, yeah?”

And he just…complies. You're almost amazed at how he just listened and pushed the glass open, the cool evening breeze drafting into the bedroom instantly.

Kafka turns around as though it is normal. “There we go,” She giggles.

“Thanks.” You mutter, nodding your head. She winks at you as she shuts the door. You hear her shutting down a remark made by…Silvie and a barrage of laughter.

You make your way to the door where, thankfully, Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan still stand.

“Everything alright?” Jing Yuan asked. He immediately turns to face you, and suddenly your good mood sparks back up. You nod, “Mhm. She has a few friends over too but…I’m sure it won't be too bad.”

You welcome them in, all piling into your living room and crowding around the dining table.

Jing Yuan pulls his laptop out of his bag and sets it on the table. “I did awful on the last test…” he informs, presumably going back to the gradebook. “55%…”

Fu Xuan bursts into laughter. “No wonder you need both of us to help you study! Good lord!!”

You ignore her teasing and pull out your books. “What do you need help with?”

She's quick to cut him off, “Clearly everything if that grade is anything to go by…!”

“Xuan, stop!!”

Her laughter continues, and Jing Yuan waves her off. “The musings of a jealous nobody don't affect me,” and now it's your turn to laugh. “I'm here to get help so I don't mind going through everything. If you're okay with that, of course.”

“It’s fine, yeah—I’m fine with that! Um, let me just get my…” You trail off, sifting through your bundles of papers in your folders. You try to ignore the burn his gaze lays on your skin. He props his head on his fist as he leans on your table and God, does it make you feel special.

Fu Xuan bites back at his remark, “I'm not jealous and I'm definitely not a nobody! Watch your mouth, Jing Yuan!!”

And now it's your turn to internally curse Yukong.

“Here we go!” You pull out the review packets you made yourself — something you pride yourself on. You lay them on the table for him, eliciting a difference in reactions from your guests.

Fu Xuan sees the packets and rolls her eyes, “Only you would make your own review packets.”

And Jing Yuan instead muses at the sight, “No—it’s cool. Resourceful. I like that.”

And I like you, you want to say. You decide to keep that to yourself and only smile in response to play coy.

“This one is from the first couple of lessons, these two were for the quizzes, and the rest are for a few lessons in between.” You inform, pointing at each packet. “I also have some flashcards and some annotations; let me find them…”

“Look, all you need to do is read the textbooks. All the information is in there.” Fu Xuan argues, taking one of your packets for herself and flipping through it. “Do you read, Jing Yuan?”

“I read, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, so do I — but that doesn't help everyone, Xuan.” You snatch the packet out of her hand, laying it on the table. “But whatever. Do you think this will help you?”

Jing Yuan nods, gratefully. He takes a packet for himself, flipping through it. “You mind showing me how you use them?”

And with a flustered smile, you nod, immediately scooting closer to direct him.

You show Yuan your method: using his notebook to write down what he remembers, going back and adding things he didn't remember, and working out everything in between with what's in the packet. Your mother taught you the method during your eighth-grade year after your grades slipped and since then, you've sworn by it.

Fu Xuan uses this time to tease and ridicule him, occasionally aiding with her…aggressive technique whenever he stumbles over a particular concept.

You share some laughs and rambles along the way, and you’re given a side of Jing Yuan you never thought you’d get. He's surprisingly easy to talk to, and you don't know if he's actually that funny or if you're just that into him — but either way, you enjoy it. He makes your cheeks hot and your smile wider.

He’s always been your campus crush — but he’s everybody’s. You're not special but the way he's looking at you makes you feel as such. You hope that maybe he’ll ask you to tutor him again and maybe it’ll just be the two of you. Without Fu Xuan’s teasing and complaints.

After about an hour, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s focused and his attentiveness leaves you and Fu Xuan the time to talk.

You drown out her complaints about the sorority not allowing her in to focus on the presence of Kafka’s friend in your kitchen. She stands on her tippy-toes to rummage through your cabinets, groaning and slamming her palms on the countertop. “Uhh…do you need something?”

The girl turns around, “Food! Where the hell are all of your snacks?!”

“Um…” You don't get to respond. She stomps into your living room, shoving her hand into the bag of pretzels Fu Xuan brought. “Excuse me!!!”

She shoves the handful in her mouth, crunching obnoxiously. “Those are so fucking dry…” She complains, turning back into your kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

Your last Kombucha is taken, popped open, and gulped down right before your eyes. You were going to drink that.

With an unabashed burp, the girl sets the bottle down and turns to you. “Hey, little mouse!”

“That's not my name—”

“Can you order some food, please? I feel like I'm being fucking punished.” And she continues to ramble, “Was I a bad girl? Do bad girls not get to eat?” And she falls into a fit of laughter.

You're uncomfortable. You know Fu Xuan and Jing Yuan must be too. This is just awkward, and embarrassing on your behalf.

“Can you get some pizza? Ooh, no, better yet, chili oil beef stew. Do they deliver that?” No. The answer is no. “Hold on, I’ll get the money.”

She scurries back into Kafka’s room with a heavy slam of the door. The three of you turn to each other, and you nervously laugh. How embarrassing.

“Is that your sister?” Jing Yuan asks. Oh God, he probably feels so uncomfortable.

“No! That's her friend…sorry about that.”

“She needs to pay me for a new bag of pretzels! I don't know where her hands have been and I'm definitely not eating that.” Fu Xuan huffs, crossing her arms and crumpling up the bag. You laugh at how she lightens the mood, but turn your gaze to Jing Yuan who's now focused back on his work. Great. You blew it.

Out comes Kafka’s friend, stomping toward you and shoving some bills into your chest. “Here you go! Keep the change,”

You don't want her change. But you don't protest — instead, you call up Delicacy Pavillion. “Hi, can I place an order?”

ೀ

The walk back to your apartment from Delicacy Pavillion feels like a walk of shame. You're even more ashamed because Jing Yuan decided to tag along and Fu Xuan decided to take her cue and leave. Now you're alone. With him. In the middle of the evening. Picking up delicious food for your ex-step-sister and her friends.

He offered to walk with you—“I don't mind. Besides, what kind of guy would I be if I let a pretty girl like you go out all by yourself?” You're not strong enough to deny his flattery, and so here you are.

Now that Xuan is gone, you don't know what to talk to him about. Or how to talk to him. You opt to keep your mum, humming a song you’d heard in passing lowly to yourself. Five minutes away and this day will finally be over.

“Are you and your sister close?” He breaks the silence.

You turn to him, “Ah, well — she’s not really my sister. Our parents were married for a while but they divorced now. A while ago, actually. We aren't close but…yeah.”

“Interesting…” He comments. “Yeah…”

“I don't mean interesting in a bad way—I’m interested…in you.”

Oh.

Oh.

“You're interested…in me?” Your heart is practically jumping out of your chest. You can't hide the flattered smile that curls your lips.

He chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and throwing his head back. “Ha, yeah. Of course — how couldn't I be? You're sweet, very smart…” He turns to look at you. Your eyes lock, “…very cute, too.”

It's like he wants you dead.

You immediately avert your gaze, nudging him in the side. “You're just messing with me.”

“If that's what you believe.” He shrugs, a playful grin resting on his face.

Now you don't know what to believe. But you're going to choose to believe that he means it.

“I'm interested in you too.” You sweetly proclaim, unable to wipe the big grin off of your face. His cheeks flush a pretty rose color, and his smile turns coy. The quiet you two fall into is much more comfortable and much lighter, and now you wish that your time with him won't end.

The pair of you make it to your apartment building, and when you stand in the elevator, you avoid his gaze. He watches you through the reflection of the elevator doors, and his smirk grows as he watches you try not to look at him.

He takes a step closer to you and when his hand swings your fingers brush and you almost drop the bag full of food. He knows how to make you flustered and how to make you smiley.

“Cute,” He mutters. He's not the only one who thinks that.

Jing Yuan does the gentlemanly thing and walks you to your door. As soon as you fish your keys out of your pocket, he pulls you into a hug. His arms are big and muscular and so warm — you immediately hug him back and wrap your arms around his waist.

“See you,” He says, rubbing the small of your back. You timidly respond, “See you.”

The smile on your face is prominent even as he walks away. Even as you walk into your apartment, coming face to face with a ruckus you never thought you’d have the displeasure of walking into.

Kafka and her guy friend are planted on the couch, the strong smoke smell clearly following them into the living room. And the girl…she lay on the floor still swiping away — but as soon as you closed the door behind you, she hopped up. “Yes—fucking finally!”

She bolts over to you and steals the bag out of your hand, “Thank fuck!! I'm so damn hungry!!!”

Kafka gets up, her guy friend immediately following. She smiles at you, coming to wrap you in a hug. “Ohhh, thank you, babe.” And she plants a firm kiss on your cheek. You feel the stain of her lipgloss on your skin, and cringe at it, only nodding and smiling as if to say “You're welcome.”

“I’m going to shower and go to bed…so uh, can you keep it down some?” You say, walking in the direction of the bathroom.

They barely hear you and focus on digging into their food. With a defeated sigh, you stalk away.

And with your back turned, the strict gaze on your disappearing frame is missed.

He’ll see you again, though.

ೀ

“I want you to formally meet my friends,” Not even a greeting as you entered the door. A hi, hello, or how was your day? would have been nice.

“Hello to you too, Kafka.” You quip, taking off your shoes and stretching your aching toes.

“Hi, little mouse,” she sarcastically chirps. She places her drink on the coffee table and you try to ignore the lack of a coaster - instead bracing yourself for the embrace she pulls you in. “Mm, you seem tense; your day went okay?”

You nod. Not quite, is the answer you hold on your tongue, swallowing it down and hiding a grimace beneath your smile.

Jing Yuan hadn't spoken to you all day. He didn't even look at you — his attention was focused on Tingyun. Pretty, brown-haired Tingyun with the charming smile and warmest aura…she’s now your competition, and from what you saw today, she’s leagues ahead of you. Hanging off of his arm like it's her lifeline and encapsulating his gaze in the palm of her hand. You almost stormed out of the lecture when her hands brushed his cheeks, her thumb swiping over his beauty mark.

He's just trying to make you jealous. That thought was supposed to comfort you but it made you even more upset. As soon as your professor shut his mouth you were out of there, leaving dust in your wake as you sped toward the library.

You needed to decompress and distract yourself. You were buried in a book when a touch you remembered too well landed on your shoulder. “I was looking for you.” He says.

Looking for me my ass, you think. But the sentiment warms you, nonetheless, and a smile pulls across your lips. “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” The tone of his voice makes you want to rip the hair off of your scalp. He's so sweetly condescending, so sultry and you can just get lost in his melody. He's like Kafka that way—wait. Nevermind…

“Can I take you out tomorrow night?” The suddenness of his question has you jostled, and the substance of the question has you flustered. Jing Yuan wants to take you out???

You're mad at him, though. He can just take Tingyun for all you ca—“Of course—er, I mean, sure. Why not?”

Fuck.

He chuckles at your stumbling, burying his hands in his pockets. His forearms scream at you as they clearly come into your line of sight — the image to be cherished and forever forefronted in your memory. Why is every part of him so attractive? “Great. I’ll text you later.”

And he squeezes your shoulder as he walks in the opposite direction. Fucking hell.

You're just pissed off. At yourself, at Tingyun, at Jing Yuan — you hate that he made you giddy and excited and you couldn't stop smiling to yourself even as you walked home alone.

He asked you, not Tingyun. Surely, if he wanted her, he’d be taking her out tomorrow, not you.

“So, tomorrow at…5? Is that cool?”

What? “Huh? Sorry,”

Kafka sighs, “I want you to meet my friends. It’ll be like…totally chill and just cool so don't freak out and think some type of formal meet-the-parents shit.”

“Is tomorrow at 5 good for you?” You’d be wrong if you said no. Kafka is trying. “Yeah, um, I guess,”

“Yay! This wasn't my idea, by the way — they want to meet you,” They do? “Really?”

She walks back over to the couch and plops down, downing a gulp of her pink Monster Energy. “Mhm. Silver wants to know how we could ever be sisters, and Bladie…” She takes a pause, having a short laugh to herself, “Let’s just say he’s taken a liking to you.”

You're confused by her statement but you don't press further. You're not sure you want to know.

“Um…I’m going out tomorrow, so,” “We won’t keep you long,” She shrugs.

Your subtly doesn’t work well—you mean to decline the offer. “Okay then,”

You begin to awkwardly walk to your bedroom, Kafka’s voice following you down the hall. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“I’m good.” You answer back. As good as you could be.

┄┄

With the nth layer of lip gloss slathered across your lips, you break into a smile at your reflection.

You’re pretty.

All dolled up: not a single fly-away or stray, cheek-housed eyelash, flawless base, and a perfectly ironed outfit describe your appearance. You spent the better half of your afternoon in the bathroom shaving, plucking, exfoliating, and giggling to yourself about your date with Jing Yuan.

You’ve never looked better. You don't think you’ve smiled this much in your life.

“You look so pretty, babe!” Yukong chimes. Her eyes gleam over the pixelated image on your phone. “So, what type of date is it? …It is a date, right?”

“Well, he didn't say it was a date—but he asked to take me out. What does that mean if not a date?” It's all semantics. Date schmate; at the end of the day it's you and him together. Alone. “He didn't…discuss the details. All I know is that he’s coming at 5:30 to get me.”

Interesting…

“It’s kinda…sexy. Like ooh, surprise me.” You add, giggling.

Right…

“If you say so…” Yukong sighs out. You laugh, missing the sarcasm thick in her tone.

“Well, anyway, I should get going.” You check the time: the digital numbers read 5:05. You're early, but, hey— better safe than sorry. “Call you later, love you!”

Yukong smiles and throws up a peace sign and ends the Facetime.

The hefty laughter from the other side of your door bulldozes through your silence, reminding you. Damn it.

Another small smile in the mirror and you get up from your vanity. You grab your clutch and walk out and into an atmosphere of laughter and…blueberries?

You wave the scent out of your face, and as if it were perfectly timed, the chatter died down and heads turned to you. Your hand fell to your side and you immediately made eye contact with her.

“Ohh, little mouse!!!” Kafka squeals, dragging out the nickname sing-songily. She skips to you, a hand nudging your shoulder. “Look at you!! Look at her guys!” She turns to her friends, grinning wide.

The pair raise their heads, faces morphing in opposite ways of one another in response. The silver-haired girl takes a brief puff from her seemingly blueberry-scented e-cigarette, “Woww, would you look at that?”

She turns to the guy beside her with an escaping smile, “You clean up nice, little mouse.” She compliments.

You cringe at the nickname leaving her lips, nodding. “Thanks…”

“What do you think, Bladie?” Kafka calls out, one arm pulling you close to her and the other swiping down in a showcasing movement. He perks up instantly and looks completely uncomfortable. He avoids looking into your eyes at all costs.

You feel bad. You tuck your clutch under your arm and raise your hands in defense, “No, no, it's okay. Kafka…you shouldn't…”

“Nope—it’s only right I tease you like this,” She rebuts. Her grin shortens to a smirk and her hand squeezes your arm, pulling you closer. “Mom’s not here; somebody’s gotta be the one to nag,”

It's a good thing your mother is not here. You moved out to get away from her. You only awkwardly laugh in response, shooting an awkwardly apologetic face toward Bladie.

“Uh…pretty,” He comments. “You look nice.”

It's only now that you realize you haven't heard his voice yet. And, woah. Wow.

“U-um, thank you. Ha…” You stumble out, growing flustered at your stuttering.

Kafka laughs, sending a look towards him that you miss. “Anyway,” she diverts, “these are my two companions: Silver and Blade.” She points at the pair respectively and they each emote.

“The two most important people in my life. After you, of course,” She informs, fingers nipping at the fat of your cheek teasingly. “What about Elio?”

She shrugs. “Oh, yeah. Him too,” and she and Silver burst into laughter.

Kafka introduces you to them after the laughter dies down, making sure to include “My little sister,”

“Ex-step-sister-now-roommate,” you correct. Silver chortles at your sass and Kafka sends you a narrowed stare. “You're right. My favorite ex-step-sister-now-roommate: my little mouse,”

“Wait, you mean to tell me you have other ex-step-sisters-now-roommates?” Silver jokes, laughing at her own joke. She slaps Blade on his arm to urge him to laugh along — to which he maintains his rigid posture and awkwardly avoids the scene.

Kafka walks the pair of you into the room, toward the couch opposite Silver and Blade. You sense an immediate switch; almost as if you’d changed realities. The air was suffocating in a way you couldn't understand. It was something deeper than awkwardness, something less juvenile than embarrassment. It was palpable: it hurt to swallow when you gulped nervously.

Silver blows another cloud of smoke toward your face, and when the fog dissipates you're met with the mischief on her face, “Sooo,” she drags, “what do you do for a living? This is a nice apartment you got,”

Small talk. You can do small talk. “Um, thanks! I mostly do tutoring and babysitting. But sometimes my mom helps out.”

Her face crinkles up in confusion. “Tutoring pays for all this???”

You laugh, “You’d be surprised at how much people are willing to pay for good grades. I mainly work with middle schoolers who aren't doing too well and their parents are so desperate. They’ll pay just about anything.” You slightly exaggerate the circumstances of your job. There's only one kid you tutor regularly and you've already begun discounting him because of his relation to Jing Yuan. It's a good thing Kafka moved in — the rent was beginning to look a bit dangerous.

“Ohh, interesting. What a hustler,” Silver jokes. Kafka laughs right alongside her, nudging your side with her elbow. “Fitting right in with us.”

The group bursts into a fit of laughter — even Blade spits out a few chuckles — and all you can do is awkwardly laugh along. You feel like a sore thumb: dolled up in your pretty blue outfit while your roommate and her friends are dressed in sweats and assortments of band tees. They laugh at a joke you don't quite understand and share glances that speak an entirely different language from you.

You want the time to speed up. You're waiting for Jing Yuan to save you from this awkward tension like the knight in shining armor he is and whisk you off to the date he planned.

Getting out of here would be so nice. You won't have to hear them poke and prod and tease and you wouldn't be scared to look left. Blade’s gaze is so intense. Goosebumps have risen on your skin from the sheer atmosphere it induces — is he doing this on purpose? He has to be. Kafka must have put him up to it.

It eases you to think that she’s just being herself: her playful, mischievous, dangerous self. In a week she’ll get bored, they’ll stop messing with you, and they’ll find something else to do. That's the way it's always been with Kafka and it helps you to relax.

But it's his stare. The way his eyes shyly rake you up and down again and again. He drinks in the sight of you and doesn't react — he’s committing you to memory and every time he takes a reprieve, his eyes thirst for more and wander right back to you. Kafka notices it. Silver notices it. You notice it. Everybody but Blade can see the way he looks at you: as though he could eat you whole.

He watches your face light up when your phone buzzes and you pull it out of your clutch. Thank the heavens; it’s Jing Yuan.

‘be there in 10. ;)’ He texts. ‘okayyyy <3 see you!’ You text back. Too flirty? Too excited? Oh, God. He hearts your message and your smile grows wider.

Blade wants to say how he wants to be the one to make you smile like that, but it's too early for that. He’ll opt for admiring you, instead, thinking to himself about how pretty you look grinning so wide and how pretty you probably look with his c—

Knock knock knock. That was fast.

You nearly jump off of the couch to answer the door, skirt flaring in the air as you skip to the door. Kafka watches with amusement thick on her face. You're so cute, a guy like Jing Yuan doesn't deserve you.

The door swings open and there he stands. His hair is pushed into a high ponytail and he’s clad in a simple outfit—but God, does he make it look good. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

His greeting awakens butterflies in your stomach. “Hi…” You reply shyly. He smiles at your nervousness and holds his hand out for you to grab, “You ready to go?” You nod almost immediately.

Before Kafka can open her mouth and trap the two of you there, you announce your departure and leave with a wave, slamming the door behind you. The group all share looks, and her smile can't help but get wider. “She’s so cute,”

“Wouldn't you agree, Blade?” Silver teases. Growing embarrassed, he lowers his head. “Oh my God!” She laughs, hitting the couch cushion. “You totally wanna fuck her!”

Blade doesn't respond. Silver turns to Kafka mouth wide, eyes blown, “He wants to fuck your sister, Kaf!” Don't we all?

Kafka sits in between her two friends, placing a warm hand on Blade’s shoulder. He immediately relaxes but keeps his gaze tied to the ground. “It’s okay, Bladie,”

“It happens to the best of us.”

┄┄

“I’m not going to lie,” Jing Yuan breaks the silence, “I didn't have a clue on what to plan. I just knew I wanted to see you again.”

His flattery is out of this world. He has you feeling so special, so wanted—you turn to look at him and just stare in disbelief. The Jing Yuan is driving you in his nice-ass BMW to a date that he asked you out on. Lucky girl syndrome is so real. “It’s okay, I’m not picky.”

“I like that.” He laughs out. “I like you.” His right hand abandons the steering wheel, traveling to your exposed thigh. His touch is light, tempting. He’s testing the waters, and only does he let his hand rest wholly on your thigh when your breath hitches but you don't stop him. He spares you a glance, a smirk drawn on his face when you briefly lock eyes.

“I think you said that before,” You lighten the mood. Your words sound breathless, clambering out of your throat nervously. “Oh, have I?” His hand creeps upward, now sheathing itself beneath your skirt. His fingers tap on your thighs — he’s teasing, waiting for a reaction.

You hum in response, now gluing your eyes to the dashboard because if you look down, you're going to explode.

“Guess I really have to let you know, then.”

“Guess so,” You respond. His hand only lies on your leg, not traveling any further. He pulls into the parking lot of the movie theater. Not your idea of the perfect first date, but maybe he has more planned.

You get out, immediately locking hands and walking side by side into the theater. He opens the door for you, leads you to the ticket stand, and the hold on your hand never falters. He uses it to pull you closer, letting his arm drape around your waist and his fingers tap along your skin. He’s setting you ablaze, burning you with every gesture he does.

You don't even care about the movie—Sky-Faring Commission 8, you think—you’re too focused on Jing Yuan. He drapes you in his jacket and wraps his arm around your shoulder when you get seated. He whispers a joke to you about the previews and laughs into your hair to not disturb others around you. And when the movie gets to a particularly boring part, he finds himself leaning on your shoulder.

His lips are featherlight as he ghosts over your skin. You act as though you don't feel it — gluing your eyes to the movie screen. You couldn't care less about the melodramatic climax on the screen. It didn't matter to you, it didn't register in your mind as important. He was so close, breathing in your sweet perfume and brushing his lips against your skin when he smiled. Oh God, you subconsciously lean towards him, letting out a sigh when puckered lips connect with your neck.

He places another kiss, and then another - readjusting his position to lead a trail upwards. The kisses grow larger distances as he eagerly travels to your lips. His hand reaches over and grabs the side of your face. You couldn't turn to look at him on your own: filled with too much anxiety and nerves to bear the connection.

Your eyes lock - a desire in his juxtaposing with the shyness in yours. He needed you, leaning in swiftly and collecting a kiss.

His tongue abrasively weaves its way into your mouth, sloppily licking around and tangling with yours. He was so powerful: overwhelming and all-consuming. You could only sit there weakly, trying your best to keep up with him.

Yuan is no dummy. He can tell you're not all into it. You sit rigidly and lack any eagerness to kiss him back.

“You nervous?” He whispers against your lips. His hand on your face slips down to your waist with a comforting squeeze in tow. You crack a smile nervously, “Never done this before. Well, like, in this way…”

He's quick to recover from the twinge of annoyance that surges within him. “‘Ts okay. I got you,”

He leans in, hand slipping to your thigh. It's almost cinematic — the movie flickers in deep reds and blacks as an action sequence plays and your silhouettes form on the wall behind you. He's so close, so tempting that you can't help but take in his words. “I’ll take care of you.” He says. And you fall for it.

And he kisses you even slower, more sultry. There's an enthusiastic flame in his kiss — he just wants you to give it up. Let him take you, let him have you. It's not like you don't want it.

As he kisses go deeper, hungrier with teeth sinking into your lip and lips sucking around your tongue, his hand slinks up your skirt. He plays with the band of your panties, feeling the soft material. His fingers roll and entangle in the fabric, feeling the slight jolt of your hips when his touch caresses your skin.

He shoves his tongue down your throat to keep you silent, pushing his hand further onward and cupping your cunt.

Your thighs immediately crush around his wrist. He’s trapped in your heat, feeling the throb of your clit against him. He bites your bottom lip with a smile as he presses his palm flat against you. The applied pressure to your clit has the bud stiffening.

God, you want him. You want him so bad.

You have to stop yourself from moaning and squirming. You’ll literally die if you get caught.

“I want you so bad, baby,” he whispers, pulling away. He kisses your jawline and rubs his hand against your pussy. The feeling is beyond mutual, you think. You can't do this, though. Not here.

You hum in response to him, fearing that any other response may be too loud. Feeling a premature knot gnarl in your stomach makes you panic and grab his arm. You can't cum yet—and definitely not here.

“Too much?” He laughs against your lips. He tries to sink his arm deeper between your thighs and your hips run away. “‘M sorry. How about we get outta here?

Locking eyes with him has you shyly saying yes. You don't have sex on the first date—Jing Yuan or not.

But your body seems to crave him. To want him and in this circumstance, you can be able to bend your rules. “Okay,”

You quickly exit the theater hand in hand with an unimportant amount of time left in the movie. There was a strange feeling swarming in your gut: akin to a thrill with a tickle of unsureness. You chalk it up to butterflies. It's just nervousness because the dream you've held onto ever since you first laid eyes on him is coming to fruition. You've always wanted Jing Yuan. You always wanted to be his.

He drives the car shortly to the parking lot of a shut-down arcade, parking his car and immediately clambering to the backseat with you. It was like he couldn't wait - like he was going to die without you. It's hot.

His hands immediately grab your hips and his lips overtake yours. He slowly lays you against the leather seats, wasting no time. He's making quick and agile movements: hands slipping under your shirt and cupping your breasts and lips wrapping around nips of skin.

You gasp, arching your back into him. “You're so sexy,” He moans, fondling you messily, needily.

“T-thank you…” You stutter out.

He kisses down to the neckline of your shirt, pushing the fabric up and going under to kiss around your chest. His lips replace his hands, the latter rehoming on your thighs and pushing your skirt up. His lips attach and suck around the top of your boob as his hands pry your legs apart, fingers dancing up toward your core.

You moan out softly. His tongue swipes across your flesh and his middle finger walks through your slit. “You’re so wet,” he comments, pressing your clit down with intense pressure.

A weak whimper dances from your lips and he laughs contently.

He continues to rub your clit while kissing your skin, turning your flames up so high that your body burns to the touch. A sticky sound resonates off of the interior of the car, sloshing grossly as your airy moans attempt to compete with it. Your pussy drips, your hole spasming as he teases you further and further.

You never thought you’d be in Jing Yuan’s backseat about to get finger fucked—and as much as you want to, you just - you can't.

His finger circles your entrance, ever so teasingly and you tense up. You pull away almost immediately, snapping your legs tightly shut and beginning to sit up. “Sorry, I’m sorry,”

Yuan takes a seat opposite from you, brushing his fallen hair out of his face with a huff. He gives you time to adjust your clothes, staring out of the front windshield. He looks…bummed, dissatisfied and you feel terrible. “Trust me, it's not a you thing. I just…I dunno. I'm not comfortable with what I don't know,”

“Nah, it's good. You're good.” He sends you a short smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

And you don't want to worry about it, but you can't not. There's an obvious tent in his pants and a frustration hidden beneath his appearance — you blue-balled him beyond measure and made it awkward. He’s probably never asking you out again.

In an attempt to ease the tension, you offer an alternative: “Wanna get something to eat? My treat.”

Taking a look at you breaks a smile on his face, and he nods. “Why not?”

┄┄

The date could have gone worse.

That's what you tell yourself as you ride the elevator up to your apartment, alone.

He had to go, he told you. “Text me before you go to bed, alright?” And that made you feel better, somewhat. He could have told you to delete his number and never go anywhere with him again, so you count this as a win.

You can't shake the tension, though. It's better than whatever the hell you, Kafka, and her friends had floating around, however, it's just as uncomfortable. The elephant in the room is humongous, but neither of you dare step on its toes. You don't blame him for feeling some type of way, but he shouldn't blame you either, right?

“Welcome back! How was your date?” Kafka questions as you walk in the door. Silver and Blade are still here, the latter on his phone and the former focusing on her strawberry crunch ice cream bar. You wave at Kafka, removing your shoes and remembering you still have Yuan’s jacket. You won't leave it out for it to get dirty with the Three Musketeers running around your apartment.

“It was good,” you reveal softly. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I’m really tired so I’m just gonna go shower and go to bed.”

Kafka nods, waving you off, “Alright; good night, little mouse!”

You get into your bedroom and don't even think twice. Your clothes are stripped off and strewn across your floor but you make sure to place Yuan’s jacket on your vanity. Your hair goes up and your body wraps in your towel, a quick commute to the bathroom across the hall to wash today off of your body.

Warm water splashes over your skin, soapy clouds run down your body as you scrub. You still feel embarrassed — the scene of you quitting on Yuan replays every time you close your eyes. You're mad at yourself because you know you want him, you always have, and you fumbled your opportunity badly. It's embarrassing for you and him. You fear it's an event you can never forget.

Twenty minutes of pouring the stress and dirt and Jing Yuan down the drain and you're finally ready to sleep. Body clean, pajamas on, makeup off, and skin care on, you climb into bed and immediately grab your phone.

‘just heading to bed c:’ You text. You twiddle your thumbs for half a second before you start typing again: ‘i did enjoy our date today btw…hope u don’t get the wrong impression cause i’d love to go out w u again <3’

That’s good. He knows how you feel, you've said your peace and lifted the weight off of your chest. You turn your phone off and rollover. Off to dreamland you go—

Ding!

Your eyes shoot open. Ding! And now you're rolling back over, grabbing your phone, and squinting at the initial brightness.

‘don’t worry abt it haha’ He texts back. ‘it’s my fault, I should’ve asked’

Your fingers press and heart his message, quick to move to the keyboard and begin typing. But before you finish, another text from him rolls in: ‘i’m glad you enjoyed it. it’d be my honor to take you out again’

You silently cheer, kicking your feet under your duvet. ‘i’ll be holding u to that’

no need already planning our next one

whatre u thinking?

that takes the fun out of it if i tell you dw i won’t make you wait long

He's flirting. You're flirting. Even through text, he has you running in circles looking for a response. What do you say? What do you say?!!

good c; don't wanna wait to see u again

‘me neither’ He starts typing, then stops. Is it over already?

The typing bubble pops up again, and in seconds, his blue message fills your eyes: ‘u mind sending a pic?’

Suspicion doesn't address you—instead a feeling of confusion. Where is this conversation going…?

im in my pajamas lol so not sexy

doesn't have to be, you make something sexy plus the kind of pjs a girl wears tells you all abt her

does it?

mhm

Damn it. You crawl out of bed, turn your lamp on, and step in front of your full-length mirror. A loose-fitting shirt and small house shorts. Nothing extravagant or appealing — just extremely comfortable.

Five attempts at a flattering mirror selfie later, you finally land a picture that satisfies you enough. Immediately to Jing Yuan, it goes, paired with the message ‘what do mine say about me?’

You sit back on your bed, criss–cross applesauce as you wait for his response. Three minutes later he likes your message, ‘says you're cute’

that’s it?

He responds quickly. ‘not sure if you wanna take it there haha’

You're not sure either. ‘try me’

It takes him a minute to start typing again — presumably needing to take the time to make a conscious decision before he embarrasses himself…again.

‘Attachment: 1 Image’ You immediately click on the image, zooming in only to be met with his bulge. Black boxers stretched around a fat tent in his pants with his big hand resting on top of his lap.

His next message comes in seconds later, ‘says you drive me crazy and need me there to make you feel good’

And the next one…‘it's hard for me to control myself lol’

i just get so turned on by you

Oh. He's taking it there.

‘me too’ You have to send the text with your head facing the other direction, nearly jumping out of your skin with the confirmation swoosh sound.

‘i don't usually get that wet btw…’ You inform. It's a bit of a half-truth; you haven't slept with that many people to gauge how wet you can truly get but you're almost positive you've never soiled your panties like you have today.

He hearts your message and immediately starts typing.

oh rly? what abt now? still wet?’

If the way your thighs are pressing together is anything to go by, the answer is a very enthusiastic yes.

yeah want u so bad

You don't sext — you've never done it before and you are awful with your words. You're nervous despite the wave of boldness that's overcoming you. This is escalating fast, bordering territory you've never crossed.

You should've just gone to bed and texted him the following morning. You should have kept it innocent and not pushed him further. You've opened a can of worms and now it's time to reap the consequences. Fuck.

let me see

Double fuck. Maybe triple. Possibly quadruple.

How the hell are you supposed to show him???

You immediately hop up and move your mirror, repositioning it to stand parallel to your bed. Should you turn the light off? Maybe you should.

You jump onto the bed in the darkness, slithering off your shorts slowly, giving yourself time to stop and preserve your dignity. God, you can't believe you're doing this, you think, setting yourself in the most awkward position to show the wet spot painted on your fresh pink panties.

Flash on and legs in the air, the camera shutters three times. If you weren't embarrassed before, you definitely are now.

You send two of the three photos, tossing your phone into your pillows.

The ding is still audible, followed by two more that make your heart jump.

shit you're so hot baby Attachment: 1 Video

A shaky thumb presses play on the video, immediately adjusting the volume when wispy curses spill from the device. The video shows his unclothed abdomen and his hand in his boxers, rubbing his dick slowly.

You watch with peeled eyes how his stomach rises and falls, abs gnarling as he bucks into his own hand. Twelve-second video. It's a twelve-second video and it seemed to last for an hour.

He sends more texts:

wish it was you are you touching yourself?

No.

yeah doesn't feel as good as when u did it, tho

You ignore the way your cunt clenches around the air and your panties grow increasingly uncomfortable with the slick pooling and seeping.

pretend it is me Attachment: 1 Voice Message

Oh fuck. You lay down, bringing the phone to your ear and dancing your fingers across your stomach in hopes of soothing your nerves. This is a lot. This is probably worse than letting him feel you up and almost finger you in his car.

“‘M gonna help you feel good, okay?” He starts the voice message. You nod as if he can see you, and close your eyes to take in the full experience.

“Start rubbing your clit—go slowly, tight circles, okay,” he pauses, presumably to let you complete the action. The quiet is filled with an airy gasp from you, sensitivity extremely prevalent between your legs. You part your folds and hear how sticky it is, and it's even worse when you let your finger slip in between your labia and press your clit. You moan so loudly you have to bite your lip.

With your thighs instinctively closing on your wrist you roll to your side, burying your face in the pillow as you start to do as he says: slow, tight circles around your sensitive bud. You can hear him spit—presumably in his hand—and faint slick sounds in the background. He starts speaking, overpowering the background noise, “Feels good, huh?”

“Keep doing that, okay? Keep going until you're about to cum—” He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath, “—fuuuck, baby. I want to fuck you so bad; bet you sound so pretty when you moan…”

He just turns you on more, leaving you to whimper and further push your face into your pillow, attempting to quiet yourself.

It's been a while since you've had any sexual time — oftentimes too tired or uninterested in tending to your needs even though your body screams at you for a release. You're overly sensitive, clit throbbing angrily and hole spasming thirstily. You need to feel good, to reach nirvana — you needed to let Yuan fuck you and satiate the thirst.

He sounds so good talking to you, moaning for you, working you up to your climax, “Put a finger in, baby. I wanna hear you, too,”

You're just horny at this point. You almost waste no time in recording a voice memo, pushing your middle finger into your cunt with a breathy whine, “Oh, God,”

You start at a slow rhythm, really edging yourself. You huff and whine and whimper all into the speaker, letting him hear every voice crack and deep breath. It feels so good, but it's not enough.

“I wanna be filled,” you manage to say. “‘S not enough…need you, Yuanie.”

Send.

You stop your ministrations as you wait for him to respond, letting yourself come down from the impending climax.

Ding!

fuck

Is all he sends, and then your phone starts ringing. Your reflection in the FaceTime camera has you adjusting your position and putting the phone in a flattering angle, answering the phone with knitted eyebrows and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. What a performer you are.

When the call connects you're met with his dick. His hand traverses the length eagerly, an angry tip leaking milky white down the shaft and glistening as he jerks himself off. You see him behind his big cock: hair disheveled and face red.

“Let me see your pussy,” his voice is gritty, deeper than usual. His tone is almost demanding—you clearly don't have the luxury of being shy at the moment.

You lower the camera slowly, pushing your panties to the side and letting the radiance of your phone screen show the glistening mess to him. “Oh fuck,” he comments, throwing his head back.

“So pretty, so perfect. I bet you're tight as fuck,” You decide to show him: slipping your index finger in first with a sweet moan, then following up with your middle finger after a few pumps.

You're definitely fuller, but it's not enough.

Your cunt squeezes around your fingers tightly, spilling out a waterfall of arousal. Your ministrations are easy with how wet you are: fingers slipping in and out with little to no resistance, just narrowly missing your sweet spot.

It gets harder to hold back your moans—sounds now coming out as broken cries as you bite intensely on your lip. “I wanna cum,” you sniffle.

“Yeah? Cum for me—show me how that pussy creams,” So obscene but so, so incredibly hot.

Your hips buck into your hands and your hold on your phone gets weak. You have to change position: set the device up between your pillows, and put yourself on display

Normally, you would never do something this risky. Maybe it's because of Jing Yuan—or a different potential point of interest just mere feet down the hall—but you feel inclined to jump out of your shell now.

So many years in Kafka’s shadow and even more in your mother's palm. You're grown up now, independent and you want to be taken seriously. It's the least you deserve and the most you want. He's going to take you seriously; he's going to see how badly you want him and the lengths you’ll go to to show up for him.

You've made a big leap in your behavior and you're prepared to deal with the consequences. No more little mouse, you're not a baby anymore.

It's time to take the world in your palm and bask in the mature gleam. You let the spotlight burn your skin as you work yourself to an orgasm, moaning so carelessly you're probably the center of conversation among Kafka and her friends. And you’d be right; partially, anyway.

Kafka having dozed off with Silver ages ago left Blade up alone, amusing himself with an average social media feed and remnants of a joint. He tried to ignore your soft moans coming from down the hall, but hey, he has keen ears.

He knows it's probably that douchebag you went out with making you sound like that and he can't even get mad about it. He's almost thankful — it's not every day you get to hear the melodies of an angel.

Neediness and curiosity reach all-time highs and urge him to do something he's 100 percent going to regret.

Blade takes light-footed steps toward your bedroom, the moans, and whimpers of you getting louder as he approaches the source. You sound so pretty; he can only imagine the way your face is knitted up and how wet you must be.

He hates himself for doing this, but he eavesdrops: letting an ear rest on the wood of your bedroom door and taking in the sounds you spew out.

He wishes he was on the other side of this door making you sound like that. He'd probably make you wake the entire apartment building up—

“I’m about to cum—! Ngh, oh my—” A sharp whine cuts you off. He wonders: do you squirt? Can you? Can he make you? There's no way possible that dickhead can do it.

“Me too—oh, shit, baby.” Comes out muffled to Blade, and his eyes roll immediately. Cornball shit, he thinks.

He hadn't pictured you as the phone-sex kind of girl, but with the way that jackass is egging you on, it's no wonder. You're so much better than this, than that guy and all he wants to do is let you know that. Blade is probably no better, but he can try. He can change for you and do right by you—in every aspect.

Your whimpers grow pitchier and you're puffing out deep breaths. You sound…overstimulated. He can imagine your toes curling and thighs trembling as you fuck yourself, squeezing your eyes shut with swollen lips. Your pussy is probably leaking a river, covering your ass, and staining your (probably) dainty white sheets. What he would give to make you feel good, let alone look at you.

“Yuan—!! I'mcummingImcummingImcumming!!!” You squeal, muffling yourself with a hard slap over your mouth.

Blade doesn't even realize he's begun to palm his cock and roll his hips into his hand. “Oh…” he quietly moans, letting his head fall onto your door.

Shit. He has to leave now, hearing you yelp at the sound and shuffle around. No use trying to hide, so he makes an escape: walking fast out of the front door without a second thought. Great—now he has to drive home with a rock-hard dick.

And you gather yourself. Hanging up the phone with Jing Yuan and walking to your door awkwardly due to the mess between your legs.

Cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and avoiding your reflection in the mirror, you think back to that sound. It was a knock, right?

Kafka and Silver lay on opposite ends of the same couch, curled under your throw blanket which is much too small for them. Blade is nowhere to be found…huh. Weird.

“Hey, Kaf,” you shake your roommate awake over the back of the couch. She moans and rolls over, slowly peeling her sleepy eyes open, “hmm?”

“Were you at my door just now?” The red-head shakes her head no, pulling the blanket over her shoulders and away from Silver.

If it wasn't her…“Where’s Bladie?” She questions, noticing his absence.

You shrug. “He probably left earlier.”

Even half-asleep, Kafka has double the brain you do. You can't see what's right in front of you.

She smiles, shuffling again and closing her eyes. “Alright, then. Good night.”

“Night,”

ೀ

With a week left until spring break, you cherish the time you've spent this last month or so living.

It feels like the first time, in all of your nineteen years of living, that you are living. Your smiles are brighter, your days are happier, and you're living every second to its fullest extent in absolute bliss.

Almost every week you're on a date with Jing Yuan. He's practically your boyfriend, but there's no official label so you keep that thought process to yourself.

Lowkey dates with him that slightly escalate have become your norm. You're still holding off on full-blown sex, and you wish you weren't. It causes some tension every time you restrict him from fucking you - but he tells you he's waiting, he's more than happy to wait. That's more than most men are willing to do and you're happy that you're fortunate to have landed yourself someone like you. Spending the tail end of your dates getting your neck marked up and fingered while you jerk him off is as much scandal as you can handle. Nerves are what's stopping you from going all the way. Definitely not Kafka’s hot friend who you can't stop thinking about.

There's synergy in your apartment now. You're not walking into a room with a tight chest and bated breath, just waiting to see what's waiting for you anymore. It's normal now—all of it. From Silver ransacking your kitchen to an obnoxiously loud-smelling blunt, you're used to it. It's not nearly as bad as you feared when Kafka initially moved in.

You sit in the dining hall with Fu Xuan, listening to her angry rambling about her statistics class. She never backs down, always eager to let a piece of her mind fly whether you like it or not.

“Stupidest fucking class ever. And, like, I shouldn't even be in there in the first place because I am wayyy too smart—”

“Hey guys,” thank God. Yukong shows up and sits next to Xuan, saving you from a monologue about how smart and wonderful she is. You love her, but man does she know how to talk.

“Nice of you to join us,” Xuan says snappily. Yukong pays her attitude no mind, sipping her coffee and turning to you with a knowing look.

She shifts the conversation, “Anyway…I came to let you guys know that there's going to be a party on Friday at the sorority. Tingyun said it’s to celebrate the beginning of spring break.”

You can't even remember the last time you went to a party. The smile growing on your face is too strong to fight. “What time?”

“Umm…I’ll have to check. Probably late though, so…”

This can be your first outing with Jing Yuan. Just the two of you with all eyes on you. Right before spring break as well…it could be your first time together—the thoughts alone make your head spin and a flurry of images swarm.

“Hm. Well, I won't be there.” Xuan states, crossing her arms and looking off elsewhere.

Amused, Yukong questions her why. “‘Cause. I'm gonna be busy with burning this stupid campus down!”

┄┄

hii <3 didn’t see u today so i hope ur feeling alright! also did u hear about the party this friday? r u thinking about going? miss u

You send your trilogy of texts to Jing Yuan, drowning out the conversation Kafka and Silver are having in your living room. “Can you back me up here?!”

Silver looks at you for backup, to which you're dumbfounded. What were they talking about again? “Sorry, what were you saying?” You ask, setting down your phone.

“Ugh!” The gamer groans, falling back onto the couch. “Please tell your sister that a Nintendo DS and a Nintendo Switch are not the same thing!”

“They do the same thing, though!” Kafka defends. “Barely! Kaf, I’m on that thing like, twenty-four-seven and you mean to tell me you think I’m playing Cooking Mama?”

“I don't know what you play. You never let anyone try and join you.”

“Because you all suck! Every single last one of you is dead weight and it makes me look bad.” Kafka scoffs, turning around and looking at you with an exasperated look. You lock eyes and share a similar smile — as much as you claim you and Kafka are total opposites, you get each other in ways not understood.

She turns back around and shuts Silver’s yapping down and at the same time, Blade emerges from the hallway. He looks good. Really good.

His long, dark hair is disheveled and tossed into a low bun, making you gain a newfound appreciation for man buns. His black “wife-beater” tank snugs onto his frame tightly—every ridge and curve of his solid abdomen pressing through the fabric and leaving little to the imagination. Staple gray sweats make you immediately avert your gaze, awkwardly making eye contact with you.

He caught you staring, and you caught him.

As if it were divine intervention, your phone buzzed on the counter behind you and you went straight for it, hiding the flustered look on your face behind your phone. You don't do a good job, though. Kafka notices.

hey baby accidentally slept in this morning but I’m alright heard abt the party but idk if I’m gonna go. not rly feeling it

A frown stretches across your lips as you disappointedly text back.

ohh okay feel better <3

Read.

It's fine—you're fine! You’ll just go with your friends and have a great time and you can see him after break.

You want that to be comforting but your gut tastes the bitter truth. It's not time to have that conversation with yourself so you table it, leaving your phone on the table and joining Blade on the second couch. Kafka and Silver monopolized the other one and you had to fight the urge to wiggle your way between them.

“So, what are we watching?” You make conversation, hiding the shake in your voice by focusing on the TV. Some random show plays, something so stupid you’d never waste your time on this.

“Dunno. Blade picked it.” Silver shrugs, slamming buttons on her Switch.

He turns to you. “Uh, it's the adaptation of the book ‘Verdict’. About Imbibitor Lunae.” He informs shyly. His voice is so gritty and deep—every time you hear it you swear you feel the depth reverberating in your bones.

Blade makes you so nervous. With his intense stare and even more intense aura, he's overwhelming and nerve-wracking. While you've grown to be comfortable with Silver and Kafka, Blade is the only one you walk on eggshells around.

And he feels the same way. He wants to breach the wall and get to know you. He wants to sit on this couch with you with his arms wrapped around your frame and you in his lap and relax. He's so tense around you, so stiff out of pure fear that if he makes the wrong move or says the wrong thing, he’ll scare you off. Blade likes you. And when it comes to girls like you and guys like him, it doesn't take much for things to go wrong.

You like that he reads though. “Ooh, interesting. I’ve never read that book,”

“It's pretty old and short. Most people of our generation haven't heard of it, I bet.”

“Yeah, 'cause you act fifty years old!” Silver sneers, earning a slap on the leg from Kafka. He pays her no mind, instead watching how you laugh at her teasing.

Your eyes get so bright when you smile: full of joy, full of light. It's so cute.

“What episode is this?” You ask him. Clearing his throat, he checks with the remote, “Episode four.”

“Mind catching me up?” Are you doing this on purpose? You’ve got to know what you're doing to him.

Heat drives up his neck and he has to create distance, sitting all the way back on the couch and replying to you with a nod.

You gulp, watching the way his legs naturally spread and how his arms flex. Insanely attractive, almost criminally so.

“So, it’s basically about that guy,” he points at the screen, a graceful-looking man with horns displayed, “called the Sinner—”

“That guy’s a sinner? He looks like an angel,” You comment. You take another look at the screen and Blade fights a smile.

If only you knew.

He continues to break down the lore of Verdict to you, going very in-depth and getting seemingly passionate as he goes on. Kafka scrolls on her phone and takes it in with pride—Blade should thank her. Never in all of her years of friendship with him does she think she's ever heard him talk this much, let alone to someone he’s interested in. It's pure proof of what you do: the best sides of people come out because of you.

You listen to him intently, chiming in with reactions and questions every now and then and completely abandoning the show you're supposed to be learning about. You just like to hear him talk. His rough voice softens up as he continues explaining the story to you and in turn, your body language softens. You can relax and lie on the couch, keeping your eyes on his face as you lean your head down on your wrists.

Details you hadn't noticed before on his face stand out to you — like how clear and supple his milky skin is and how his chapped lips are tinted ever-so-slightly red. You notice how his thick eyebrows wiggle and knit together when he’s thinking, and his awkward, canine-heavy smile when you make a comment. Blade is dorky and surprisingly, a history enthusiast.

He goes from detailing the fabled betrayal of Imbibitor Lunae to the Ambrosial Arbor to everything before, after, and during. From the unusual silence exuding from Kafka and Silver, he realizes just how much he's been talking. Even you have started to drift off, your eyes are heavy as you listen to old Xianzhou tales.

Upon realizing that he’s effectively talked everybody to sleep, he takes the blanket draped on the armchair and covers you, making sure to be as cautious as possible. He doesn't know what he’d do if you woke up and caught him.

As weird as it sounds, he likes seeing you sleep. You look so peaceful like your dreams are full of cotton candy and rainbows. Knowing you, they probably are.

“You’re staring, Bladie.” He turns around to see Kafka, her smirk overtaking her groggy expression. He doesn't even try to refute the claim or defend himself. If there's anyone other than himself that knows him well, it's Kafka. She probably knows him more than he does himself at this point.

“You’re cute, making moves on her and stuff,” He naturally follows her as she makes her way to the kitchen. The blush on his cheeks dusts lightly, and his eyes find comfort in staring at the floor. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” She reaches into the fridge, pulling out the last can of Mung Bean Soda.

She pops the can open and takes a short swig, “so what's your plan?”

Blade shrugs. Kafka sighs, placing the can on the counter. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

ೀ

If Jing Yuan wasn’t going to come to the party tonight, you were going to make him regret it.

You dressed in the shortest, tightest dress you owned: an off-the-shoulder white mini-dress with the prettiest shine to it. You bought it impulsively after your mid-term breakdown freshman year, thinking retail therapy would make you feel better. (It didn't–another breakdown ensued when you realized you just wasted money on shit you didn't need.)

You did your makeup the best you ever have. Perfect highlight, sharp and even eyeliner wings, balanced lip combo—cosmetology school should have been your first choice with this type of beat.

Yukong told you to come at 9; the time on your phone reads 8:58. A little late, but fashionably so.

The jacket Yuan had given you still resides in your room due to your forgetfulness. If you're going to this party, why not make a statement?

You slip on the bomber jacket, the bulkiness of the fit aiding the aesthetics of your outfit. It gave off comfy but cute—“in my boyfriend’s closet” vibes. Surely, Tingyun or whoever the hell else competing with you will take the hint with this. Nobody will have to guess whose jacket it is when there's a white lion embroidered on the right arm. If this isn't a soft launch, you don't know what is.

Grabbing your essentials you walk out to the usual scene in your living room: Kafka, Blade, and Silver seated on different couches engaged in a conversation. Their heads turn to you, and you immediately let your gaze fall to Blade. He almost looks away instantly — too much. You're too much and he knows that it's for that guy. The one who doesn't deserve you but gets to see you cum and receive your attention…unfair.

“Wowww look at you! Little mouse is stealing someone’s man tonight!” Silver whoops, snapping her fingers. You roll your eyes at her, brushing stray strands of hair back.

You walk to the door, “Don’t wait up!!!”

Oh, but they will. Some more than others.

┄┄

Yukong’s sorority house is huge but it feels so small with this many people present. The invitation was extended to the entire campus, presumably, and sure enough, they showed up and showed out.

Pulling up was a nightmare — cars and people backed up for what seemed like miles. Your Uber driver huffed and puffed the entire time trying to find somewhere to let you out, and you could only extend apologetic woes and smiles. Walking up to the house was better, but you suddenly woke up from your dream world and realized that people could see you. They could perceive you and form preconceived notions about you just from how you carried yourself. You became conscious of what the hell you had on—immediately regretting the short dress when you had to squeeze between some randoms smoking on the stairs, your bare thighs rubbing against their bodies. Ugh.

The music was loud, seemingly traveling through the floorboards and it felt incredibly unstable to walk in your heels. You searched for Yukong, spotting your best friend off to the side with Hanya.

“Woaahh, look at you!” She exclaims. You give her a spin and laugh. Through your joy, you miss the way her face crinkles up when she eyes the jacket you sport. “Do you want a drink?”

You nod, “Only like, one or two. I'm trying to stay sober; I want to remember tonight.” You send her a look that means only one thing: you have something planned for tonight. What that thing is…well, Yukong isn't sure she wants to know.

She asks Hanya to fetch you a drink, taking up a conversation with you in her place. “How’s the sister situation?”

You hadn't updated Yukong on the status of things in a while. Should you tell her about Blade?

Wait. Tell her what?

As if there's anything to tell…

“It’s actually good. Surprisingly. I thought I’d be begging my mom to take her by now,” you joke. Hanya returns with a red solo cup, handing it to you. “It’s something tame.”

You're not a fan of the taste of alcohol. You can't understand how people willingly get shitfaced—this shit is nasty. You cringe and shudder at the taste. Whatever juice base is added does not aid the taste one bit.

“Her friends are around often. Like…every day. I wonder if they have jobs but I haven't asked,” Yukong takes a sip of her drink as well.

“Did they help this transformation occur?”

And suddenly, the reality of how you look hits you again. “Ha ha, very funny. I wanted to try something new, something sexy.”

“It worked!!” A random girl replies as she and her friends walk toward the kitchen. The face you give Yukong says I told you so, and she rolls her eyes.

“Let’s dance!” You exclaim, grabbing onto your friend with the sudden shift in the music.

Reluctantly, she follows you to the sea of gyrating bodies. Everybody dancing and talking forms a cocoon of heat—you’re encapsulated the moment you breach the area.

Sip, dance, laugh. Sip, dance, laugh. Sip, dance, laugh. You keep this up for a good twenty minutes, breaking on the couch every now and then. It may be only you and Yukong — and the occasional appearance of Hanya — but you're having fun. Fun like you said you would with or without Yuan—

He’s here???

You spot Jing Yuan out of the corner of your eye. He daps partygoers up at the door, making his way through the jumbles of people clearly in search. Of you?

You almost call his name and wave but he walks straight toward Tingyun. His hands slide around her waist instinctively and her arms wrap around his neck tightly. She giggles as he lifts her up, and she gives him her cup when she's put back down. They don't break eye contact the entire time he downs the remainder of her cup, and as soon as he's finished, the cup is replaced with her hand and she's guiding him up the stairs.

Did he think you wouldn't be here? Or did he not give enough of a fuck regardless?

Whatever the case—it hurts. You take the jacket off and toss it to the ground, not realizing the stray tear that streaks down your face.

Tingyun is going to give him something that you couldn't. He’s going to give her something you can't have. You feel slighted like the rug has been torn from beneath your feet and you’re doomed to a fate forever on your ass. You look stupid. So so so stupid, but you have enough dignity to wait until you leave to bawl your eyes out.

Ignoring Yukong calling your name, you walk outside and begin calling yourself an Uber. The early spring chills make you even madder. Fuck this stupid dress, this stupid party, that stupid Jing Yuan—“Hey!!! You didn't hear me calling you?”

Yukong comes following after you, her face concerned as she comes into view. Seeing your tears, her eyebrows furrow, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

A sad laugh escapes your throat and you look up at the sky, attempting to hold back the sudden rush of tears. “Yuan is sleeping with Tingyun,”

Her face is full of indescribable expressions. She has many things she wants to say, but she chooses the safe option. “Huh?! How do you know?”

“His lying ass just showed up and threw himself all over her. Then they went upstairs and you and I both know they aren't up there talking.”

You poor, poor girl. “I shouldn't be sad…what was I thinking? I should've known that he was an asshole.” You should have, but Yukong won't blame you.

The last romantic attention you had was from Dan Heng: your kinda-sorta-ex-boyfriend who took your virginity senior year and broke up with you a month later because you were going to different schools. You crave a change in the way people perceive you. Jing Yuan was the closest thing to a fever dream you had in university, and he turned it into a nightmare. What was supposed to be your rebranding - an age of confidence and maturity was overtaken by his pushiness and exclusivity.

“It doesn't matter, I don't care. I just wanna go home,” You hope Kafka and her friends are on their best behavior tonight. You're not in the mood for any shit.

“Are you sure?” Yukong doesn't know how to comfort you. Anything she has to say will make it worse, she's sure of it.

You nod, wiping the string of tears off of your cheeks. The buzzing of your phone lets you know that your Uber is approaching shortly, so you give Yukong a smile that’s meant to comfort her - but it only worries her. She won't push you because the only way this’ll end is messy if so.

She offers you a comforting smile of her own, pulling you into a soft hug. “Call me later, okay?”

She reluctantly pulls away and heads back into the party, head swiveling over her shoulder to make sure you don't jump in front of a car. You're not going to — if anyone needs to, it's that asshole, Jing Yuan.

Your Uber pulls up and saves the day, the warmth in the car settling goosebumps on your skin from the juxtaposition. “Long night?” The driver asks, peering at you through the mirror.

Is it that obvious?

With a sad smile, you nod, “It's only gonna get longer.” You laugh. Imagining the annoying amount of questions and pep talks Kafka is going to give you when you step through the door irritates you. You lay your head against your seat, and then your phone buzzes.

Flipping the device over, you see three notifications from ‘Yuan <3’. Ugh.

Looking at it is going to make you do or say something you’ll completely regret. You regain composure through a deep breath; placing your phone face down on your lap and watching the world blur through the window.

You're trying not to feel humiliated. There's a burn in your chest because every time you close your eyes, there's a scene of you and him together. You're stupid to think he actually liked you. His longing gazes and lingering touches and sweet words were tactics to get into your pants — and it almost worked. There's a reason your mother treats you like a baby: you are one and can't handle the real world. You hate that you had to come to this conclusion like this, but you're not ready.

Thanking the driver, you pull yourself out of the car, trudging begrudgingly into the building and in the elevator. And you can't stop fucking crying.

Stray tears keep escaping and no matter how many times you wipe them away or vigorously blink, it doesn't stop the flow. Why are your feelings hurt this badly? Why did you like him so much?

These same questions cycle as you open your front door, being hit with the same atmosphere you just escaped.

You’ve got to be kidding me, you think. Of all nights, tonight Kafka decides to throw a damn party???

Not wanting to spend another second in this atmosphere, you weave your way through the partygoers — an exceptional amount of people, given the space of your apartment, if you may add.

Trying to escape to your room gets you caught by your roommate, and your name gets called across the party as a result. She maneuvers her way to you, “What’re you doing back here so early, little mouse? I thought we shouldn't wait up?”

The sadness you wear is so prominent. Your face is dropped and your lips quiver when she asks her questions. You stare at the floor to not let the tears fall. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm just gonna go to sleep, so can you keep the noise down?” You try to brush her off. Kafka doesn't let you slip away, grabbing your arm and keeping you in place.

The rim of her cup nudges at your chin in place of her hand, forcing you to look up at her. A black headband pushes her plum-colored locks out of her face, straight strands flowing down her back. When she tilts her head pitifully at you, her hair swings to the side, falling over her shoulder and at this moment she looks so approachable. “What’s wrong?” She poses the question again, her tone softer than before.

You almost break down in front of her and she immediately extends her arm around your shoulders, pulling the side of you into her chest. She hands you her cup and you immediately down the liquid with no second thought. Her hand rubs your arm comfortingly and she guides you toward the kitchen, “C’mon, let's talk in here.”

The kitchen is surprisingly unoccupied save for a few hungry stragglers, leaving the two of you to sit on the stools. She refreshes your cup, getting a new one of her own and finishing off another bottle of tequila.

Kafka can tell by looking at you that this upset is caused by heartbreak. No words have to be spoken for her to understand, and now it's her job to take care of you. The way you deserve.

“What’d he do?”

The look on her face is all-knowing. You can't help but break a small smile at her intuitiveness. “I’m sure you can imagine…”

Of course she can. It was clear as day that he wanted only one thing. Everybody but you could see that a mile away.

“How’d you find out?”

“The asshole definitely wasn't trying to hide it.” You state, taking a big sip of your drink and cringing at the bitterness. Yuck. “He told me he wasn't going to come to the party, but I'm there, dancing, and here he comes. With a big wide-ass smile he walks straight to Tingyun and they waste no time in going upstairs.”

You don't normally swear, but you're so irritated that the words just soar from your lips. It’s almost amusing to watch your angry rambling. “Not even accounting for the fact that I was there and somebody could have told me. It was right in my face—right there and it was like I was invisible!!!”

Her eyes travel up and down your body. You're definitely not invisible. Jing Yuan just doesn't know what to do with you.

“He didn't deserve you; I hope you know that.” She comments, sipping her drink slowly. You finish off yours with bigger gulps, immediately hopping off of the stool and searching for a new bottle. Pouring another full cup, you nod, “I do now.”

“And then—he had the audacity to text me!” You sit down, taking off your heels. You're ready to get comfortable and let everything rip. Kafka’s eyes widen, “Oh, really?”

You hum to confirm, picking up your phone and checking the notifications. A few texts from Yukong and Xuan join his messages, but those don't matter. You hand the phone to Kafka, “I didn't even read them. I should block him, right?”

hey baby, i’m at the party wya

just talked to Yukong…can we talk? I wanna explain don’t be like this. at least let me explain?

Double yuck. You absolutely should block him…after this, though.

“He wants to explain himself to you. Classic,” She sneers. You laugh through your sipping, sitting the cup down. “He must take me for an idiot.”

There's a short silence that breaks with you changing the subject. “What’s the occasion?” You question.

She shrugs, placing her cup down. “Just felt like partying.”

Kafka tells a bit of a half-truth. While she did feel like having fun — her idea extends beyond getting sloppy drunk and into territory thus far unexplored. There's one objective she has tonight and it can't be completed unless her two moving pieces are pliable and cooperative. In terms of a checklist, she's halfway there.

Low-lidded eyes narrow at you, as if to tell you her intent wordlessly. You don't pick up what she's putting down, instead feeling heavily nervous under her gaze. “Anyway. Why don't we…”

She trails off, her finger tapping her chin exaggeratedly. “Wanna dance?”

You suck in a breath, holding up your hands. “I think I'm gonna call it a night, actually. It’s kind of late and all that crying made my head hurt…” You laugh. That’s partly true—you just want to escape whatever trap she’s set, if you're being honest. And frankly, after tonight, you have slight trauma from dancing.

“It’ll make you feel better.” She sings, wiggling a finger at you. “Come on; just one dance!”

Your face crinkles. You're not convinced. “Silver’s on the aux, we can ask her to play whatever you want.” She tries to bribe. “No sad-girl depressed shit, though.”

She keeps asking, offering deals and propositions that sound all the more appetizing as she continues. After a series of unabashed begging, you finally agree. “One song,” you sternly declare, hopping off the stool and grabbing ahold of your cup.

Her hands are in the air defensively, a cheshire smile stretching across her lips. “You lead the way,”

You've never partied with Kafka before. Your time spent as step-sisters consisted of you mostly lurking and watching, earning your nickname ‘little mouse’ because you were quiet, swift, and moved at night. You saw her sneak people into the house while your parents slept, throw parties while they were out, smoke in your backyard, and do other wild activities — but she never let you join. Your age was your main roadblock, being deemed too young and too cute to join her and her friends. Dancing with her now, smelling the strong mix of scents in the air and the bass of the music jumping in your bones, you understand why now.

Maybe it's the alcohol or the fact that your heart is broken, but the atmosphere is heavy. There's a lingering feeling that seeps through your pores. It has you dancing with her, letting her hands lie on your waist and your hips sway together.

Your bodies generate a fountain of heat that consumes you. You can't help but just dance: feeling the beat in your very core. Mixed with your surplus of liquid courage, your body sways and gyrates, lighting a flame you won't be able to put out in Kafka. Her smile is wide and her eyes flicker toward the couch, meeting an intense amber gaze.

Blade is entertained…more so intrigued with how you can live freely even after your heart weighs you down. The smile on your face doesn't falter — it only grows and gleams and he can't stop watching you dance.

Should he take Kafka’s place? He wants to take Kafka’s place.

It should be his hands on your waist, his lips on your ears, his words making you laugh—“Ah, I’m exhausted,”

You plop down beside him with an exasperated groan. He almost jumps out of his skin when you appear, and looking up at Kafka who towers over the pair of you, he can tell this is only the beginning. Her smile is warm but all-telling: whatever idea she has brewing in her head is coming to fruition tonight.

“I’ll be back. Take care of her for me, Bladie,” she shoots him a wink. He almost doesn't know what to do. Should he talk to you? Take you to bed?

“Blade?” Your voice is so small, so cute. You're quiet beneath the jumble of sounds crammed in your apartment but he can pick you out amongst the masses. He's never heard you address him before and the way his name leaves your mouth…he’s always going to replay it in his head forever. “…Y-yeah?”

He doesn't stutter but fuck, you make him nervous.

Breathing out airily, you turn your head to him. “…Do you and Kafka date?”

“No.” His answer is straight and immediate. Must be a sore subject…

“Oh…” “Why do you ask?” He knows why you ask. The same reason everybody else does. “Dunno. You guys just seem…close.”

“She’s not my type of girl.”

“Oh?” You perk up, now intrigued. “Then, what is your type of girl?”

You. He picks at his nails and almost avoids your eyes. How does he answer this question without freaking you out? Ah…fuck it.

“…You.” He’s dying on the inside but at least you're drunk—you’re not going to remember this so it won't be that bad. “Really?”

Your tone pitches up as you adjust your position. You lean your head against your hand now, opting to look him in his eyes. His attention feels nice and hearing that somebody insanely attractive wants you. You make him nervous, making him twiddle his fingers, and his cheeks dust rosy. That's a type of flattery that you can't make up.

“Yeah,” he says matter-of-factly. As if it's so obvious that he likes girls like you.

“What about me do you like?”

“Oh, uh, I don't know…” he trails off. He suddenly remembers the solo cup he abandoned earlier in the night and picks it up off the floor. He’s going to need a serious buzz to bear his dirty laundry to the wind. “…everything?” He poses it like a question — as though your reaction would gauge the validity.

Your face was brighter and painted in a flustered manner. “Thank you,” is all you can say without word-vomiting.

“What are you two talking about?” Kafka breaks up your tension, handing you another full cup and weaving her way onto the couch. She takes a seat right behind you, effectively spooning you. She takes a look at Blade over your shoulder, noticing the blush that paints his cheeks and the refusal to look in your direction.

Downing big swigs of your mystery drink, you shake your head. “Oh, nothing…” You sing, giving Blade an obvious reassuring wink that Kafka laughs at. “Guess I should leave you two to it, huh?”

“To what?” You ask coyly. You giggle bubbly, hiding your grin behind your cup. Kafka gives you a look, “I’m interrupting, aren't I? It’s okay to push me away.”

“We didn't do anything yet!!”

“Yet?” Kafka and Blade exchange glances - a series of looks that only mean one thing.

You slap a hand over your mouth, laughing into your palm drunkenly. Your mind is hazy and covered in static. That's not what you meant to say— “Well, I mean…”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean? You playing to run off with Bladie later?”

While that would be great and you aren't completely unopposed…“We were just talking.”

Kafka shrugs, dropping the topic. You’re determined to preserve the privacy of your conversation until the very end. Well, anyway, there are other methods of getting the show on the road.

Her brief time away from the pair of you was spent curating a queue of songs on Silver’s phone — songs she knows you like, songs she knows Blade likes, and songs she knows your inebriated bodies will like. Full of bass, full of sensuality, full of dirty innuendos that get your core filled with butterflies and your head filled with fantasies. She took it upon herself to mix up a concoction strong enough to wipe out a village of Pilgrims and your inhibitions.

From the moment your mother mentioned staying with you, Kafka thought of you. You’re a staple goody-two-shoes, held down to Earth with a strict upbringing and a perfectionist mindset. You were always eager for more, wide eyes watching as she and her friends explored all types of realms unbeknownst to you.

It’s her way of setting you free and paying you back. All those times you covered for her, all those times you took care of her after a long night out, and even now, taking her in when you have no reason to — it’s her way of saying thank you. Giving you the release you’ve been clawing for since she met you; giving you the release you deserve.

Blade is perfect for you. He's the type of guy to send your mother into cardiac arrest but the type of guy to love you right. He's not a man of many words but of many actions — a crafter, a creator, a provider, a carer. What you need is stability, something in scarce supply ever since your parents split up; but you also need someone to fix. That can't be Kafka, it won't be her.

She's going to hand you the tools to set you free, but it's up to you to forge your way out.

This box of safety you guard yourself in is coming down tonight. The burden of finding the perfect, golden guy, being the perfect, golden girl, and living a perfect, golden life is shriveling by the minute, each alcoholic sip you take singeing its weight.

The sultry beat of the next song punches through the atmosphere. The vibe of the party seems to slow down: the chatter lowers itself to background noise, bodies move longingly and languidly, and the lights seem dimmer. Your body feels heavier too, slumping forward on the couch to where your forehead collides with Blade’s knee.

His hands are quick to slip under your arms, helping you sit up straight. Kafka rubs a supportive hand in circles on your back, “You alright, little mouse?”

You look at the man in front of you, his silhouette slowly coming into focus. With his hair freed down his back and toned body dressed in his usual comfortable loungewear, he looks good. So fucking good with the worried look on his face.

“Hey, I got you,” he states.

In a second your strength is replenished and you muster the courage to lean in, stealing a kiss from him. It’s unexpected, sloppy, and tastes a whole hell of a lot like liquor…but, fuck, does it feel good.

He doesn't know what to do with his hands, choosing to remove them from beneath your arms and rehome them on your waist. The initial shock dissipates and his body naturally leads into your kiss, his eyes closing after taking in the image of an amused Kafka.

You whimper into his mouth, eager to climb onto his lap. Your hands roughly tangle in his hair, pulling his face unimaginably closer as if you were trying to consume him whole. The feeling of his slightly chapped lips against your glossed ones is like heaven - even better as he gets to re-slick them with his tongue.

It’s like the world around you doesn't exist anymore. Time could cease to exist and it wouldn't faze you because you have everything you need beneath you. The warmth of another person, the kisses of pure desire, the hands of desperation…it all rests in Blade and he delivers it unto you. It's all that matters right now, all you could ever wish for — forget Jing Yuan, your mother, whatever stressors have been weighing you down. It's insignificant, it doesn't matter, not when Blade sucks your tongue and his hands grab the fat of your ass.

It doesn't take much to escalate the situation with the amount of alcohol and stress in your body. It needs to all come out.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Kafka practically pulls you two apart, holding your hand and hoisting you to your feet. “Let’s get you to bed,”

You grumble like a petulant child, holding your other hand out for Blade to grab. He’s quick to slip your hand into his. “I don't wanna go to bed…”

Leading you through the myriad of people, Kafka laughs, “Don’t worry. We’re not going to sleep.”

You giggle at her words, the meaning not fully processing in your hazy head. You miss her innuendos the way you always have, focusing on Blade. His arm wraps around your waist to stabilize you with Kafka’s hand locked in yours. It’s intimate, it’s nice, and though you can't see the heat burn in his skin in this darkness, you can feel it with how close he is to you.

Kafka leads the three of you into your room, flickering your light on and closing the door behind you all. She locks it while you basically drag Blade to your bed.

You're more abrasive when you're drunk: grabbing Blade by the fabric of his shirt into another sloppy kiss. It’s amusing to watch, Kafka’ll give you that. But that's not the image she had in mind.

“Easy tiger,” she purrs, sitting behind you on the bed. You both catch your breaths, looking at each other with small smiles. There's a spark of desire in the room, latching onto any and everything and setting it ablaze. It’s hot and palpable and you need to set it out. “Let’s take our time, yeah?”

It doesn't register what she meant by that until her hands are fondling your chest and her chin rests on your shoulder. “Mmh…” she moans, feeling your nipples harden through your dress, “We’ve been waiting a real long time for this, haven't we, Bladie?”

He finds himself at a loss for words, swallowing thickly and keeping his eyes trained to you. “Yeah…”

“Why don't you come show her, then?” Kafka instructs, fluttering her eyes up to him. He doesn't need much encouragement to catch your bobbing head with his palm, leaning in and taking the lead in your kiss.

Under his behest, the kisses are softer, tamer, but filled with just as much—if not more—fire as before. He takes his time in carefully traversing your mouth with his tongue — completely contrasting from the kisses you gave him previously. You were taking a page from the book of Jing Yuan, using how he kissed you as a guideline for the basis. But that's not what you wanted. What you wanted from the very beginning was for him to take his time: to savor you down to every detail until your lips bruised and swelled, then move on to the rest of your body with passion.

Blade’s kisses were heavy with passion and need - as if he, too, was holding onto a package full of burdens.

As he moves down your jaw and neck, Kafka’s hands travel down to the hem of your dress, slipping under and gripping your bare sides. Her hands are cold and you flinch at the feeling, but it soon feels nice as her hands slide to cup your boobs under your bra. Your head falls back on her shoulder, allowing Blade more access to the expanse of your neck.

Your hips pathetically gyrate against the bed, receiving minimal friction that aids you in no way. It only makes you needier.

Blade pulls away to let Kafka pull your dress over your head, revealing the pretty, matching white set you have on underneath. You so obviously wore this with Jing Yuan in mind, and it irritates Blade that he was ever worthy enough to you to warrant such an ensemble. It was never right, never fair — but he has you now, and he doesn't plan on letting you go.

Kafka takes the initiative and unclips your bra, tossing the undergarment to the floor alongside your dress. You're pushed flat onto the mattress where she takes a moment to remove her crop top, leaning over you in her black lace bra.

She places a chaste kiss on your lips leaving your eyes to widen — watching with blown pupils as she lowers herself to your chest and darts her tongue toward your pebbled nipple. You drawl out a whine, your body curling up in response. She swirls the nub, dragging her teeth lightly on it and leaving you hissing and whimpering. All the while, Blade strips down to his underwear, tossing his long hair to the back and palming the tent in his pants.

You turn your head to your left and spot him, your face cringing in pleasure. You stretch your arms toward him and he complies, letting your hands find the sides of his head and pull him in for another kiss.

An agile hand slithers beneath the thin band of your panties, a slender finger slipping between your labia and running through your folds. You moan out into Blade’s mouth, hips jerking away and legs kicking into the air. “Your sensitive pussy’s all wet…” Kafka observes. She lays her head right below your boob, focusing her attention between your legs.

“‘S making a mess through your panties.” She laughs when you moan out again, her finger traveling down to your entrance and prodding.

“Kafka…” you moan, pulling away from Blade.

“Let’s see how long it takes to make you cum,” it’s so obvious that you're not going to last. Your cunt is soaked and only gets wetter by the minute, and her teasing ministrations have you moaning like a bitch in heat.

She adjusts her position, peeling down your panties and leaving them around your ankles lazily. The draft in your room whistles against your soaked folds - a chill runs up your spine as a result. She spits onto her hand as if it's needed, diving straight toward your clit. The sensitive bud is attacked mercilessly: heavy pressure weighing on it as Kafka draws figure-eights. There's a sticky clicking sound that arises and it makes her smile, taking a look at you and Blade over her shoulder.

You suck on his thumb, his left hand rubbing from your neck to your chest. Your whimpers are contained behind his digit, but your watery eyes say all. “You hear that?” She suddenly speeds up her actions, making your back arch and voice sing out around Blade’s finger.

And like a professional, she slows down, inching her finger back down to your hole. It slips in with ease and she sighs. “Dunno if she’s gonna be able to take you, Bladie,”

She pushes her middle finger in knuckle-deep, twisting her finger as she slithers her ring finger in beside it. Blade’s finger in your mouth does nothing to pacify you any longer - her fingers in your cunt bringing out the sweetest moans they’ve collectively ever heard. “She’s so tight…squeezing around my fingers.”

You writhe around in Blade’s hold and your arms brush over his hard-on every now and then. He winces and hisses, bucking into your touch. He needs to preoccupy himself before he cums in his pants—deciding to aid Kafka. His hand tentatively crawls toward your clit, rougher, thicker fingers pinching your bud. It has you huffing out a wail, balling your fist weakly on his thigh.

They keep up a steady pace in tandem, building up your orgasm with ease. Your body is reactive and receptive to their touch: falling apart when your core gets tight and even hotter.

“C’mon, little mouse…let it out for me,” Kafka encourages. She places sparse kisses against your thighs, the print of her lips faintly left in the color of her lipstick. “I can feel it. You wanna cum so bad,”

“Do it,” she murmurs between kisses, “let it out.”

It’s like your body is under her control. Your orgasm builds and crashes in a matter of seconds. Your hole spasms around her fingers but she never stops scissoring them inside of you, rubbing against your sweet spot and effectively overstimming you. You wail heartily, wrapping your arms around Blade’s arm and stopping him from continuing.

Kafka doesn't stop finger-fucking you until you come down from your high and endlessly whimper. She smears your release all over your pussy, bringing her coated fingers to her mouth.

Exaggeratedly, she sucks your juices off of her fingers, making sure to rock her hips against nothing and moan at the taste. “Mmfh,” and with a pop, she removes her digits from her mouth.

She hovers over you trying to catch your breath, capturing your face in her hand and squeezing your cheeks, forcing your lips to part. She lets her saliva drop from her mouth to yours, backing up with a smile. She stops you from swallowing: “Share,” she says.

You and Blade’s lips meet, smushing and mixing yours and Kafka’s spit. It gets messier, sloppier, and it's completely inefficient due to your awkward position but you comply nonetheless.

When you part, Kafka is making quick work of you and flips you over to your stomach. You yelp and giggle, looking over your shoulder and meeting her wide smile. Her index finger boops your nose and she turns to Blade, presumably signaling for him to get up. He stands up, hands grabbing your ankles and adjusting you perfectly.

Kafka slaps your tailbone softly, using her other hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Ass up,” she instructs, and you listen.

You wiggle your butt in the air with a laugh, laying your head on Kafka’s lap. Her pants are pretty comfortable and you find yourself becoming relaxed — while behind you Blade is pulling his boxers down and freeing his dick.

The last time you had actual sex was months ago…as in the middle to end of your freshman year. It was a forgotten one-night stand you met through a dating app - but he’s no match for Blade.

He presses the tip to your entrance, just teasing. Your heavy eyelids fly up, and you immediately brace yourself. You barely felt him, but he's big. You know it.

“Fuck…” he hisses. He wedges his cock between your folds, feeling your wetness smear against him. You feel his width, his length, his weight—he’s a lot less girthy than what you felt with your hands with Yuan, but he makes up for it in length.

If he keeps dragging his dick between your folds he’s going to cum. He has to physically stop himself, sucking in a deep breath because it's now or nothing.

Pressing the tip in you both gasp — and your sounds only drawl out until he completely bottoms out. He's so deep, and you're so wet. He's so big, and you're so tight. Dribbles of your previous orgasm and endless arousal seep out around him, and he nearly moans at the sight.

Getting a good grip on your ass, he spreads your cheeks, pushing you forward while pulling out. It’s a languid motion, edging you for the heart-stopping drop he imposes when you're filled fully again. Your moans come out with every collision and they're full of air. Your chest is tight and all of your air is flying out of your mouth. He's rendering you breathless, but it's nothing compared to how you're making him feel.

Blade begins to gradually increase his pace to satiate this intense hunger. He fucking needs you.

Now that he has a taste of you, his head is clear and his body is in nirvana. His strokes are precise and sharp. He pistons out of you with control, deep grunts skipping out of his mouth. It’s like your pussy is made for him: squeezing him just right in a tight hug and drooling endlessly.

Splat splat splat! The wet sound echoes from your collisions, battling against the barrage of moans that escape your mouth. “Oh, f-f—” you stutter over the curse, clawing at Kafka’s legs. She coos at you, rubbing your face. “You can take it, you got it. Good girl,”

“C-can’t! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob, burying your face into her leg.

Your body hasn't recovered from your previous orgasm, still reeling and the added pleasure Blade stacks on doesn't help. You feel like you're going to explode, wailing and drooling all over the place as your hips gain a mind of their own, fucking back against Blade and chasing your release.

“Think you can squirt for us?”

Oh, hell yeah. If there's one thing Blade wants to do for you, it's to ruin anybody else for you. He wants a monopoly over your body — he wants you to know him as your main source of Heaven on Earth and if there’s one way to do that…

In three swift movements, you're flipped back onto your back, legs on his shoulders. He slips back in with ease, wasting no time in pounding your cunt. He’s fiercer, more determined: drawn up with furrowed brows and his bottom lip snatched between his teeth, Blade becomes a different person.

There's more need, more fervor, an insatiable feeling that’s driven by your warm pussy around him and the idea of being the first person to make you squirt—the only person to make you squirt.

Kafka wraps her hand around your throat, squeezing the sides, and watches with pure amusement as your eyes grow foggier and your sounds grow choppier. They're just using your body, pushing you to the very limit and it's working so well.

A new fire has been lit under your ass and you feel alive — you're on top of the world and nothing but a grand finale can bring you down.

“G-got tighter…” Blade grunts out. Kafka turns to you, seeing how even though your eyes and mouth spill over, you still manage to curl your lips into a toothy grin. “Think she likes it,”

“You like this, huh? Being choked out while getting fucked silly?” God, yes. You love it—you’re on cloud nine.

In this position, Blade can fuck you deeper. He’s effectively digging you out, the slight left-leaning curve of his cock hitting your g-spot again and again. Quakes rack through your body again; it’s coming.

They both can tell and it's getting sloppy. Blade is holding back from blowing his load deep in you, and Kafka? Well, Kafka’s happy to play the supporting role - now letting go of your neck and wedging her head between you and Blade.

With her ass in the air, Kafka dives into the perfect arch to let her lips wrap around your clit, taking the neglected bud into her warm mouth with a long moan. The vibrations jolt through your body and you nearly scream out, thrashing above them.

It's too much, your body can't handle it. You start to crumble: your stomach gnarling and tears streaming down your face. “IcantIcantIcant—” Your hands frantically try to push Blade away but to no avail.

His grunts grow more animalistic as he puts all of his body weight into his thrusts, slowing down. He goes harder, making your body jostle with each grind of his hips. His face is knitted in pleasure, his porcelain skin damp with sweat and blemished in a crimson brushing. Kafka abusing your puffy clit with her tongue has you and Blade losing your minds, collectively falling apart.

This is it. This is pure, unadulterated bliss.

White hot heat surges through your body as you shake. Your thighs quiver on Blade’s shoulders, and Kafka can feel the stiffness of your clit. She slithers back to her seated position, her eyes never leaving the passion-filled affair occur.

Words you try to form only come out as broken squeaks and even Blade can't hold back any longer, letting out a string of blissed-out curse words as you clamp around him. The orgasm that begins to pour out of you is paired with a force that’s all but pushing him out.

You sob and he moans out — one last thrust breaking the floodgates. A clear stream shoots from between your legs, spurting at his abs. All the while, his orgasm comes over him, filling you with all his heavy balls had been storing.

You can't even move. Your chests heave for big breaths, unable to catch them.

It’s a high you can't come down from — filled with a surplus of electricity, liquor, and desire. You needed that more than anything, you needed him more than anything.

┄┄

A small yawn leaps from your mouth when your eyes begrudgingly open. What time even is it…?

You swing your arm over behind you in search of the device — but you're instead met with flesh. You're suddenly wide awake, sitting straight up only to realize you're completely naked. You turn to your side and there lays Blade, snoring softly into your pillow.

What the hell happened last night…

You jump out of bed, find something stray to throw on and feel an incredible ache between your legs. Clearly, you had quite the night. You can't concisely remember what happened last night and right now is definitely not the time to rehash your decisions.

You're not completely opposed to doing whatever you did with Blade because…well, he's Blade. He's always been attractive to you, and at least he’s willing to treat you like a person.

You're not going to wake him up so you leave him a note: scribbling your number on a random piece of paper and scurrying out of the room.

You need to find your phone and get some air—“Good morning. Took you a while to get up, huh.”

Kafka sits at the bar, stuffing her mouth with a spoonful of cereal. Does she know that you and Blade…

“Oh, yeah. Hey. Good morning…” you awkwardly puff out. Your voice is hoarse and you cringe at the sound, placing your hands on your chest with concern. “I’m gonna go um…get some food,”

“I made some eggs earlier if you want some—” “—I’m good. I could use the air, anyway.”

Kafka shrugs, turning back to her cereal. You rush out of your apartment in a blur, slamming the door and leaving Kafka in a brief silence.

Moments after you left, Blade emerges from the hallway. “Morning sleepy head. How’d you sleep?” She teases.

He nods, rubbing his eye. He takes a seat next to Kafka, holding up a piece of paper between two fingers. “Woke up to this,”

“The hell is that?” Kafka questions, spinning her spoon around in her bowl.

He flips the paper over, “Her number.”

A smile breaks across her face and she slaps his arm playfully. “Look at you!”

Blade fights off a coy smile, twirling the paper between his fingers. He waited so long, so patiently—and it was all worth it. He would do it again and again. All just to make you his.

incorrect hsr quotes #2

[name], visibly exhausted, downing more shots than usual: so eventually, i’m like, being nice doesn’t work. being nice gets me stalkers

dan heng, sitting in the nearest table, watching [name]: i kinda feel called out

[name], continuing on: being mean gets me crazy men who are attracted to crazy person

blade, sitting in the same table as dan heng, nodding proudly: yep. i asked them to crush my skull in the other day

[name]: and so, i’m just gonna ignore y’all now

dan heng and blade: sulks after hearing that

jing yuan, who’s been at the same table as dan heng and blade, with a smug grin: aww but pookie🥺

[name], done with their shit: and they liKE THAT TOO! LEAVE ME ALONE❗️❗️

kafka, [name]’s gossip bestie: aww but pookie, you’re living the life

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

—༉‧₊˚. “ ALL IN ” m.list

featuring. Aventurine — Honkai Star Rail | kink. makeup sex

synopsis. Aventurine used to be your partner in crime until he left you abruptly when a gamble went wrong, which he took all the money for, leaving you with nothing except hatred for the man. He makes up for it later on, but not with the money he owed you.

content warning. Smut, kissing, p-to-v, semi-dominant reader, submissive male lead, make-up sex, sarcastic banter, and more!..

The noise of the casino was a dull roar in your ears as you nursed a whiskey at the bar. It had been over a year since you last set foot in this place—not since that night when a careless wager ended with you being hunted and on the run.

You could feel his presence before you saw him—that arrogant aura demanding everyone's attention. Sure enough, through the crowd swaggered the man you'd hoped to never cross paths with again. Aventurine.

His violet eyes lit up in faux surprise upon finding me. "My lucky charm returns!" he exclaimed, sliding onto the stool next to yours. You grimaced. "Don't."

But Aventurine was undeterred. "Still angry, I see. Can't we put the past behind us?"

You glared sideways at him. "Do you even recall the past you're referring to? The months I spent fearing for my life because of stupidity?"

For once, a sliver of uncertainty entered his charming smirk. "It was just business, nothing personal."

Heat rose in your cheeks. In a swift motion, you grabbed his collar, yanking him nose-to-nose with you. "Just business?" you growled. "You left me for dead, leaving me to pay off a debt that wasn't mine to begin with."

Aventurine's smile is long gone now. And you took some satisfaction in seeing the unease grow in his eyes.

“You’ve grown awfully feisty,” he said, and at that moment, the noise of the casino faded into background noise as the both of you stared at each other. Aventurine's eyes roamed your face, lingering in a way that set your nerve endings alight.

You knew you should walk away; this man had caused you nothing but trouble. And yet, part of you yearned to make him understand and truly feel the pain he had inflicted so carelessly onto you.

"You're right; I've changed," you said quietly. "I'm not the naive fool who trusted you before. Now I see you for what you are.”

 Aventurine winced, the barb finding its mark. "And what am I, pray tell?"

"A selfish, reckless coward who plays with people's lives for the thrill without care for the fallout."

 He sighed, raking a hand through his golden hair. For the briefest moment, regret flashed in his amethyst gaze.

"What do you want from me?”

The open vulnerability in his question caught you off guard. Was this supposed to be an olive branch or a trap? You leaned in slowly, scanning his face for deceit.

 “An apology. I want an apology.” you repeated.

Aventurine's throat bobbed as he seemed to grasp for words. You could see the pride warring within him—he who so rarely answered to anyone. Maybe this time he realized, how his reckless actions had pushed things over the line.

"I..." He began softly, then trailed off into tense silence once more. The urge to wipe that contrite look from his face and replace it was strong. Old habits die hard.

You raised a brow, waiting expectantly for what you were owed. Aventurine sighed again, steeling himself as his eyes met with yours steadily.

"You were right to call me out. I caused you harm without thought of consequence." His voice was low, but it carried an undercurrent of raw sincerity. "For that, I'm sorry."

You searched his face for any hint of dishonesty but found only openness laid bare. Maybe this was the closest thing to regret you would ever see from him.

A heavy silence fell as his apology hung in the air. Aventurine gazed at you, with uncertainty in his eyes.

"Your apology is a start," you said at last. "But words alone won't undo the past."

Aventurine furrowed his brows, pride flickering anew at the insinuation that he was not yet redeemed. "Then what would?"

Slowly, an idea took form—one that might offer the both of you a kind of closure. You inched closer, matching his earlier brazen invasion of your personal space. Lowering your voice, you replied.

"Prove to me your regret is sincere. Prove you've learned self control."

Your gaze traced his lips and his throat, lingering in a way that made the meaning abundantly clear to him.

"Here? Now?" He whined

You tilted your head, a half-smile on your face. Unless you fear you can't prove yourself, gambler. Are the stakes too high this time?"

 Aventurine's responding smirk held a razor's edge. "Never, jewel. Name your game."

The dice were cast and your next play had begun. The both of you being all in.

Without another word, Aventurine took your hand and led you through the casino crowd, his usual swagger returning. The both of you navigated the flashing lights and clattering machines until reaching the elevators.

Once the doors closed, all pretense of space between the two of you had vanished. Aventurine pinned you against the mirrored wall of the elevator, capturing your lips in a deep longing kiss that stole your breath away. You moaned, threading your fingers through his golden locks to drag him impossibly closer.

Too soon, a cheerful ding announced you had arrived to your destined floor. Aventurine took your hand again and hurried you down the plush corridor, only pausing to scan the keycard at the door of the luxurious suite.

The lock clicked open, and the two of you tumbled inside in a tangled mess of limbs, mouths still fused together. You kicked the door shut and let Aventurine lift you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the hotel bed.

Gently, he laid you out amidst the silken sheets, hovering over you with hooded eyes that promised pleasure beyond reckoning.

"Now then," he purred. Aventurine's skilled fingers made quick work of the buttons on your shirt, brushing his fingers across your skin that raised goosebumps in their wake. You sat up to slide the fabric off and return the favor, letting your hands linger across his toned abdomen, feeling each hitch of breath under your caress.

Your lips met once again as the both of you rid each other of your clothes. Aventurine leaned back to admire his handiwork, violet eyes alight with hunger.

"Exquisite, as I remember," he murmured, tracing nonsensical patterns on your thighs and then drawing them further apart. His touch traveled upwards to the apex, that's now fully bare for him.

Two could play in torment. You rolled deftly so that you could straddle his hips, you glanced down at his need that pressed hot and rigidly against you.

Aventurine's eyes sparked with sudden intrigue, taken aback by your boldness in wrestling back control. You smiled coyly, relishing the chance to toy with him as he had done to you for so long.

Slowly, teasingly, you positioned yourself above his length, feeling him pulsing with urgency against you. But you remained still, drinking in his growing frustration with barely contained delight.

"Impatient as ever, I see," you said softly into his ear. "Maybe now you'll understand the torture of wanting and not having."

Aventurine groaned, his hands settling firmly on your hips in a silent plea. Ever the gambler, refusing to fold so easily. "Then proceed, my darling jewel. Let's see if you can best me”

His challenge spurred you on. Bracing your hands against his muscled abdomen, you gradually lowered onto his velvet length with a drawn-out moan. Aven's eyes rolled back ecstatically, though he continued biting back his release through sheer will alone.

You set a maddeningly slow pace, grinding your hips each time you were fully joined with him.

Aven' writhed, at each grind of your hips drawing sounds of pleasure and desperation from his throat. His hands clenched bruisingly against your waist as you continued the sweet torture, denying him release.

"Please..." he whimpered, the sound foreign on his usually cocky tongue. You smiled, leaning down to nibble along his jawline.

"Please what?” you breathed in his ear. "I want to hear you say it."

Aven growled in frustration and pride, battling his body's demands. You rolled your hips firmly, rubbing against that spongy spot within that sent jolts of desire piercing through him. His resolve shattered.

"Please, let me come," he gasped, clinging to you desperately. "I need you...I need to feel you fall with me."

Hearing the great Aventurine begging so prettily tore away your last shred of self-control. You quickened your pace, swirling your hips with abandon as he cried out beneath you.

"That's it; let go for me," you rasped, your own end crashing towards you in tempting waves. Two more rolls of your hips, and Aventurine threw his head back with a guttural groan, clenching impossibly tight around you as he found his peak.

The feeling of him pulsing inside dragged you relentlessly over the edge. You threw your arms around his neck to muffle your shouts of ecstasy against his skin. Wave after wave of bliss crashed through you, as Aventurine's hands splayed on your back as if trying to meld both your souls as one.

As the last waves of euphoria washed over the two of you Aventurine’s hands gently traced soothing patterns up and down your back. You lay breathless against his chest, savoring the peaceful afterglow.

Aventurine pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “Let's do it one more time.” “I believe I haven't redeemed myself just yet..”

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

This is beautiful I love it soooooo much I can't wait to get him

I'll show him

"Oh! He thinks he's better than me with his perfect knowledge and his oh so noble! goal of curing ignorance." you growled squeezing your tablet tightly fuming at the previous events that happened.

"Now, now, Y/N. Be careful with that device it holds very important code for the simulated universe and your life" Herta warned while tying away at her screen.

It's been exactly a day since your run-in with Veritas Ratio, or as the Genius Society call him Dr. Ratio. Both of you are different, you excel at computer programming and virtualization, and he excels at- yeah whatever he does. An argument ensued between you and you weren't one to back down from what you believe, and neither was he and so for each point you made he hit you head with his book and made a counter argument to yours. It irked you when you recount the details of yesterday.

"Hello! Give me that tablet before you break it!"

"And if it bothers you that much take up legal action, subpoena him or something. I don't care. I'll pay for the fees." she calmly stated reaching out to the device.

"Her-I mean Madam Herta really!? You will actually do that?"

"Not me, but Asta. I just want to enjoy the scene. That man has caused more trouble. I can't even get my employees to focus without being an emotional wreck. Seriously."

She huffed and walked away muttering something. Well it was food for thought you rubbed your head were you've been hit repeatedly by him.

'Yes. Take legal action'

The next Day

"And what is this?" Veritas asks

"I'm suing you." You stated

"Suing?"

"Yes. You've been served, Veritas Ratio. I suffer from migraine headaches and emotional damages done by you."

You stuffed the paper directly into his face to make it clear to him. He pushed it out of his face as if it were nothing and stared at you. Chilles ran down your back when he looked at you. His gaze didn't hold any malice, just confusion.

"I see. In wanting to educate you about your ignorance, I am subpoenaed. Interesting how childlike your mind is Y/N."

Your eyebrow twitched, "Childlike? Might I remind you who hacked Silverwolf's accounts and had them reported to the IPC and I'm also the one responsible for the coding of the Simulated Universe and all things related to code."

"And so?"

You fumed, your gears stopped turning and started turning in reverse,

"I'm not even gonna bother with you. You'll pay for what you did, Ratio."

He simply laughed as you turned your back on him. Ratio closed his codex and then said something. A theory which you knew like the back of your hand and he taunted you with it.

And so you bickered, he said there's an updated theory and what you simply know is outdated. You weren't gonna lose your ground even if there was an updated one. He's really going to make you defend a theory on basic programming which you live and breathe. NO, not this time. And so, you the least thing anyone or you would do, you took his book and hit him on the head with it. And explained why x + y= z, and whacked him again, and explained another theory which you helped to prove is viable is correct.

You had lost it and he saw it. He was just teasing you with that one, he didn't expect it to go this far that you'd hit him.

"Hey Veritas. 1+1=2. But in programming it's actually ten."

Whack!

The sound of a mechanical door sliding door echoed, Asta walked in on the sigh,

"Oh my! Y/N! Please don't violence doesn't solve anything." she shouted after you trying to stop you.

"Stay out of this Asta. Karma is a bitch and so is he! His karma finally caught up to him now." you said.

"Finally! I wondering when the tables will turn" Herta's high-pitched voice sounded from the corner.

"Madam Herta, stop them."

"No."

When you tried to hit him again, he grabbed your hand and took his book. It doesn't bode well for you.

"My. Must I say I've never seen anyone as fierce as you. I only joked, I just wanted to see your reaction, I didn't know it would go this far" he breathed out.

'Bitch!'

"From the way you're looking at me you just insulted me." he smiled

" 'Course I did. You're a maniac what kind of person goes around curing ignorance by hitting others with a book. It's madness!"

"I do. I Verit.."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and just make sure you make it to court on the due date or you could play dumb and ignore it."

You walked away sticking your tongue out and blowing raspberries at him. He could show up or be ignorant it was up to him.

hehehe.... time for dangerous creativity~ o(｀ω´*)o

Hi :)

May I ask, what App/Website are you using for your HSR Text messages?

Have a good day/night <3

here you go !

let me call you mine, just for tonight | 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙧! 𝙟𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙪𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣! 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧. [𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 — 18 + | smut]

request by : @goddessofdestructionsposts

credits to them for the idea and qoutes, i really loved writing this, so i hope yall enjoy <3

summary : im which emperor jing yuan sets up a ball to catch you — his assassin disguised as a court physician—but ends up fucking you instead.

warnings : nsfw 18 + , rough sex, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving) , possessive jing yuan , squirting, spanking (like once), doggy style, dom! jing yuan , some angst.

word count: 7.8k words!

The imperial palace of Luofu was nothing short of breath taking that night. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings like glittering jewels, casting a golden glow over the sprawling ballroom. Opulence dripped from every corner—the polished marble floors, the lavish silks draped along the walls, and the clinking of crystal goblets raised in toasts from nobles adorned in their finest attire. The music floated delicately through the air, a soft waltz that barely masked the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Emperor Jing Yuan had made sure everything was perfect.

You could feel it—this wasn’t just any ball. It was a stage, and you, the assassin sent to end the emperor's life, had walked right into the heart of it.

Disguised as his court physician, you had spent weeks moving through the imperial halls, observing him, waiting for the right moment. But every attempt to poison him, every plan meticulously laid out to rid your empire of its most dangerous foe, had failed. Not because of a mistake on your part, but because he knew. Jing Yuan always knew.

There were times when you would mix a deadly tonic into his tea, only to watch him drink it with a smile, golden eyes twinkling with mirth as though he were in on some secret joke. You had given him a draught meant to put him into a deep, dreamless sleep, only to find yourself slumped at his bedside, drowsy and dazed, while he watched you with that infuriating, knowing gaze. It was as though he had been toying with you all along, allowing you to get close, but never close enough to succeed. Other times, you'd find yourself alone with him, hand brushing against the dagger hidden beneath your cloak, only to be paralyzed by the weight of his gaze.

But tonight… tonight was different. He had thrown this ball—a grand, sweeping affair—and the unspoken question haunted you as you moved among the guests: Was this his way of mocking you? Was this all just a game?

You scanned the room, your pulse quickening when you spotted him across the sea of nobility. There he stood, his broad shoulders relaxed, one hand wrapped around a glass of wine. Jing Yuan’s presence was a force unto itself. Tall, commanding, and impossibly serene, he looked almost disinterested, as if none of this mattered to him at all.

But you knew better.

And now, like a moth drawn to a flame, you were pulled toward him.

Your eyes followed him across the room. His presence was undeniable, commanding yet deceptively gentle. He moved with the grace of someone far too large to be that light on his feet. He seemed… untouchable.

For all the indolence in his posture, you knew better. Jing Yuan was sharp—dangerously so. There was a reason he had survived your many attempts, and there was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly who you were, and why you were there.

But tonight, something was different. The atmosphere felt heavy, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes met yours from across the room. A shiver ran through you. His smile widened, but there was something predatory behind that lazy expression, something dangerous. He knew who you were—had always known.

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you immediately looked away, cursing yourself for letting your emotions slip. You were here to kill him, not admire him. But your heart betrayed you, thudding erratically in your chest as he began to make his way toward you.

With each step, the crowd seemed to part for him, a sea of nobility giving way to their Emperor. His tall frame and broad shoulders filled your vision as he approached, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jing Yuan was in front of you, towering over you. His imposing frame dwarfed your own, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne filled your senses, muddling your thoughts.

“Physician” he greeted you, his voice deep and smooth, carrying a dark edge of amusement.

Your pulse raced, but you kept your expression neutral. “Emperor Jing Yuan.”

“You came,” his voice was smooth, velvet over steel. “I was beginning to think you might avoid me tonight.”

You offered a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s an honor to be here, Emperor Jing Yuan.”

He tilted his head, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You seem rather tense tonight. Perhaps you’re in need of a little… distraction.”

He looks at you with those sharp, golden eyes. They held a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that sent a thrill down your spine.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question. His hand extended toward you, palm open, waiting. The weight of the room seemed to shift, all eyes subtly trained on the Emperor and his court physician, the woman who had been quietly watching him from the shadows all night.

The murmurs of the surrounding courtiers faded when the emperor extended his hand to you in front of everyone. There was no refusal in a moment like this. Not without drawing suspicion.

So, you placed your hand in his, your breath catching as his fingers curled around yours. His hand was warm, larger than yours, and there was a subtle strength behind his grip as he led you onto the ballroom floor.

The music swelled, and he pulled you into his arms with such ease that you barely had time to think. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer than was appropriate for a formal dance, but no one would dare question the emperor.

Your heart pounded as your body pressed against his, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your gown. His size was overwhelming, and though you tried to stay focused—tried to remind yourself of your mission—it was impossible to ignore the heat building between you. His hand was firm, guiding you effortlessly across the dance floor, and your breath hitched as his thumb traced small, lazy circles against your lower back.

“How has your stay been?” he asked, his tone conversational, as though your body wasn’t molded to his, as though he wasn’t dragging his thumb along the edge of your spine in a way that made your knees weak.

“It’s been… interesting,” you managed to reply, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Oh? And in what way?”

His gaze locked with yours, the golden depths drawing you in, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feel of his hand on you. You swallowed, trying to keep your head clear.

“Well… I've had to tend to many things during my time here,” you said, carefully choosing your words. “You’ve kept me quite busy.”

“I’m sure I have,” Jing Yuan murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But you’re not here to discuss work tonight, are you?”

His hand slid lower, his fingers grazing the curve of your waist. It was a subtle movement, but enough to send a rush of heat through your body. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to pull away—or to lean into his touch.

“Why did you throw this ball, Emperor Jing Yuan?” you asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory it was heading towards.

“Why not?” he replied with a small shrug, though his eyes never left yours. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had something… festive. Besides”—his voice lowered, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear—“I enjoy seeing you like this. So… tense, so poised. Trying to resist the urge to kill me.”

Your eyes widen, your blood ran cold. His eyes shine now with a dangerous glint as he moves his face closer to you, his lips now graze the lobe of your ear. Your heart raced. He knew. He had known from the moment you stepped foot in his imperial palace.

"Tell me," Jing Yuan continued, his voice dropping lower, "are you truly here to kill me, or is there something more you’re after?"

His golden eyes now bore into yours, searching, and for a brief moment, you felt exposed, as if he could see through every wall you had carefully constructed. You had come here with a mission—to eliminate him. But now, standing in his arms, his breath warm against your skin, his touch sending heat coursing through your veins, doubt began to creep in.

Could you do it? Could you really kill him?

"I don’t fear death," Jing Yuan whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "But I wonder… do you?"

The tension between you crackled like a live wire, each second ticking by as you danced together, his hand sliding further up your back, his thumb pressing gently against the base of your neck. His words hung in the air, a challenge, a question that you weren’t sure you could answer.

Your fingers twitched toward the hidden dagger beneath your gown, but you hesitated. His gaze never wavered, his expression calm, almost expectant. He was daring you to make a move. To finish what you had come here to do.

But instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your breath catching in your throat as his hand brushed the nape of your neck, his fingers sliding through your hair in a slow, deliberate motion. His grip was firm, yet there was a tenderness to it, an intimacy that sent your mind spinning.

The tension between you was thick, palpable, as you moved together in the heart of the ballroom. The candlelight flickered, reflecting off the gold embroidery of his robe, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips curled into a knowing smile.

"You play a dangerous game," you whispered, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist as he guided you through a smooth turn, the movement drawing your bodies even closer together. His eyes never left yours, a silent challenge lingering in their depths.

"Perhaps," he murmured, his tone a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your breath catch. "But you’ve already walked into the lion’s den, haven’t you?"

You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your gown, and for a moment, it was impossible to focus on anything else. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, the gentle hum of conversation around you drowned out by the pounding of your heart as his hand slid up your back, his touch deliberate, possessive.

The ballroom was a spectacle of imperial wealth—massive golden chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings, their crystals sparkling like stars above. Marble columns lined the room, each intricately carved with ancient symbols of power and protection. The floor beneath your feet was polished to perfection, reflecting the light of a thousand candles that cast the entire scene in a warm, intimate glow. Nobles in lavish silks and embroidered robes spun gracefully across the dance floor, but to you, it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Jing Yuan's voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your skin as he tilted your chin upward, his golden eyes locking onto yours. "You are here to kill me, yet every time you spoke to me, touched me…" He paused, his hand tracing the line of your jaw gently, as if memorizing every detail. His expression softened, something vulnerable flickering in the depths of his gaze.

"There was no malice. No hatred. Only something I couldn’t name but felt every time you were near. It made me question everything. I’m drawn to you, like the tides to the moon, and I can't stop myself."

You felt a tight knot form in your chest, an undeniable tension between you, but you steeled yourself, forcing the flutter of emotions to quiet. Swallowing hard, you scoffed lightly, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart pounded in your ears. "Oh, so you invite assassins to your balls now? Quite the thrill for an emperor, isn't it?"

He chuckled softly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but the intensity in his gaze never wavered.

His smile widened, a slow, deliberate expression that made your stomach twist with both dread and something far more dangerous. He guided you through another turn, his hand sliding further up your back, sending shivers through you with each movement.

"I welcome all sorts to my palace," he said, his tone light but layered with meaning. "And I am rarely caught off guard."

This entire ball—this dance—had been his way of toying with you, drawing you in, testing your resolve. But why? Why let you get this close?

Jing Yuan’s smirk held steady, a small, knowing curve that barely betrayed the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. As he stepped closer, the air between you seemed to charge with electricity. His towering form loomed over yours, not in intimidation, but in a way that felt impossible to ignore, like gravity itself was drawing you in. His hand found your waist, the touch subtle at first, a reminder of how easily he could command the space around you, you could only focus on him—on how his fingers tightened ever so slightly around you, how his breath seemed to mingle with your own in the quiet, secluded corridor.

"You know why you're here," he murmured, his deep voice a soft rumble in the dim light. His lips were near your ear, so close that each word brushed your skin like a secret. "But do you know why I haven’t stopped you yet?"

His question cut through your thoughts like a blade, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could form a coherent answer, Jing Yuan gently pulled you out of the ballroom, his fingers still firm on your waist, guiding you with an ease that made it clear he was in control of every step. The hallways outside were dimly lit, the soft flicker of lanterns casting shadows along the walls, heightening the sense of intimacy in the air. The soft hum of music and laughter from the ball grew faint, the silence between you filled with an unspoken tension that seemed to thrum beneath your skin.

He stopped, turning to face you fully now, and his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His tall frame seemed even larger in the narrow corridor, his presence overwhelming in a way that both excited and unnerved you. "You came to kill me," he stated, his tone light, as though he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "Yet here you are… with me."

You opened your mouth to respond, to deny, to say anything to break the growing tension, but the words stuck in your throat. His hand slid from your waist to your cheek, fingers brushing your skin with a gentleness that made your heart pound. "You’re trying so hard to fight this," he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, smudging the carefully applied lipstick. "But you know… You can deny your feelings all you want, but you can't resist me."

Before you could protest, Jing Yuan's lips crashed against yours, but it wasn’t the kiss of a desperate man—it was controlled, deliberate, a slow burn that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a measured precision, coaxing rather than demanding. His tongue slipped past your parted lips, teasingly exploring, tasting you in a way that made your knees weaken. The kiss deepened, his tongue curling against yours in a sensual rhythm that left you breathless, your body betraying you as you leaned into him.

You could feel his smirk against your mouth as one of his hands snaked up to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer until your bodies were flush. The fabric of your dress felt far too thin between you, the heat of his body seeping into yours as his other hand grazed the curve of your waist. His fingers lingered there, pressing into the softness of your skin through the layers of fabric, his touch possessive, yet restrained.

Your mind screamed at you to regain focus—to remember your mission—but the warmth of his hands on your body, the intoxicating taste of him on your lips, was too much. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself get lost in the sensation, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fine fabric of his robe. He was so much larger than you, his presence overwhelming in the best way, every inch of him exuding strength and power, yet here he was, kissing you with a kind of tenderness that made your heart stutter.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your jawline, leaving a burning path of sensation as he nibbled lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips found that spot just beneath your ear, biting down gently. You gasped, and his grip on your waist tightened in response, as though he was waiting for that exact reaction.

"Let me call you mine, just for tonight," he whispered against your skin, his voice so low and husky it sent heat pooling in your core.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You didn’t need them. The faint nod you gave him, the flush on your cheeks, the way your body instinctively pressed closer to his—all of it gave him the permission he sought. A soft growl rumbled from his chest, and without another word, Jing Yuan scooped you into his arms effortlessly, cradling you as though you weighed nothing. In the dim light, you could see the raw intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Your heart raced as he carried you through the winding hallways, each step echoing the rapid beating of your pulse. His touch was still gentle, but there was an urgency now, a hunger that simmered beneath the surface. You barely registered the door to his chambers swinging open, the soft light from inside casting shadows across his face, making him look even more imposing, more irresistible.

He laid you down on the edge of the bed with a surprising tenderness, his large hands brushing over your arms as he leaned over you. The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow, the scent of sandalwood filling the air, and yet all you could focus on was the way Jing Yuan looked at you, his gaze full of something raw and unspoken. His thumb traced your swollen bottom lip, smudging your lipstick even further, his eyes drinking in the sight of you—flushed, breathless, utterly undone.

His thumb pressed gently against your lip before sliding it away. His hands trail down your body, large hands grazing against your breast as he finally stops at the edge of your dress. He let his hands slip beneath them as his hands made contact above your knees.

A soft moan leaves past your lips when he gave the skin their a gentle squeeze, Jing Yuan’s eyes darkened with a dangerous glint as his hands, warm and firm, trailed their way higher up your thighs. Every slow, deliberate touch sent shivers across your skin, each graze of his fingers feeling like tiny jolts of electricity, making your breath quicken involuntarily. His grip tightened ever so slightly, a teasing press against your flesh as his hands continued their sinful ascent. Just when you thought you could no longer bear the tension, your breath hitched as his fingers paused, resting against something cold and metallic—the hidden dagger strapped against your thigh.

He let out a low, amused chuckle, the sound vibrating through the space between you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Slowly, with a deliberate flick of his wrist, Jing Yuan pulled out the dagger that had been meant to end his life tonight. The weapon glistened ominously in the soft glow of the room, its sharp edge reflecting the candlelight.

"Ah, so this is what you were planning to use on me?" he murmured, his voice teasing but laced with dark intent. He twirled the dagger lightly in his hand, studying it with an almost casual detachment. The sight of it in his hand—the very weapon you were supposed to use—made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, fear flickered in your chest, but the look in his eyes told you that he had no intention of letting things go so easily.

He brought the blade closer, the cold metal brushing lightly against your bare skin. Your breath hitched again as you felt its sharp edge graze your thigh - enough for you to feel it but also to not leave a mark on you. His other arm, strong and unwavering, held you firmly in place, pinning you beneath his body with ease.

“Scared?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, eyes locked on yours with a predatory intensity. There was something dangerously thrilling about the way he held you down, his gaze never leaving your face, the blade hovering just inches away. The weight of his body against yours left you feeling both vulnerable and completely ensnared in the moment.

Before you could muster a response, without warning, Jing Yuan moved swiftly, the blade slicing through the delicate fabric of your dress. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the material gave way, falling apart in an instant. The air hit your exposed skin, leaving you clad only in your revealing underwear while he remained fully dressed. The contrast between the two of you—him still composed, his robes immaculate, and you laid bare, your body exposed under his heated gaze—only heightened the tension that crackled between you.

He discarded the dagger with a careless flick of his hand, the metallic sound of it hitting the floor barely registering in your mind. His attention was solely on you, his golden eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin. His hand returned to your waist, fingers digging in with more need, his grip more possessive than before.

Jing Yuan leaned down, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was nothing like the first. This one was filled with raw, unrestrained hunger. His tongue slid past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fiery intensity that left you dizzy. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before biting down lightly, drawing a gasp from you as he deepened the kiss. His hand roamed your body, squeezing the softness of your thigh, tracing the curve of your waist, his touch everywhere at once.

You could feel his need, his want, in every press of his lips, every rough caress. He was overwhelming, his presence all-consuming, and yet you found yourself clinging to him, losing yourself in the sensation. His lips trailed down to your neck, teeth nibbling at your skin, leaving marks that would linger long after tonight.

Jing Yuan shifts into an upright position, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap. The heat between you is undeniable, his hardness pressing insistently against your barely-clad core. Your body trembles as his lips trail slowly down your neck, sending waves of anticipation through you. His hand moves skillfully behind your back, and with a deft twist of his fingers, your breasts are exposed, the fabric slipping to the floor.

His gaze darkens as it falls on your soft, supple skin. His eyes flicker between your flushed face and the curves of your breasts, desire clearly written across his features. Without warning, one of his large hands envelops your breast, his grip firm yet intoxicating as a moan escapes your lips. His mouth quickly follows, latching onto your other breast, his tongue swirling, and his teeth grazing your nipple as your voice trembles in response. His free hand pinches and twists your nipple, eliciting sharp gasps as his relentless mouth sucks and nips at your sensitive skin.

Your breathing grows ragged, each sensation heightening your pleasure. His other hand ventures downward, and with a swift tug, he tears away your underwear. A low groan rumbles in his chest as your slickness coats his fingers, the heat of your desire seeping through. His hand leaves your breast, moving to his trousers as he frees himself, revealing his thick, hard length. Your eyes widen at the sight, but before you can catch your breath, he presses the tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it slowly along your sensitive skin.

A shudder ripples through your body as the thick, swollen tip brushes your clit, pulling a sharp moan from your lips. Jing Yuan’s gaze is clouded with lust, his breath coming in soft, ragged pants as he leans in to latch his mouth back onto your breast. His free hand toys with the other, while his hard length continues to tease you, gliding against your slick lips, building the tension between you to an unbearable height.

Jing Yuan’s movements were unhurried, almost torturous, as he continued dragging his thick length against your folds, teasing your entrance without giving in. Every graze of his cock sent jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, making your breath hitch and your thighs tense around him. His mouth was relentless, lips and tongue working your sensitive breast while his other hand kneaded the supple flesh, sending wave after wave of heat pooling in your core.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low, almost a purr.

A flush crept up your neck, your heart racing as your body responded despite the conflict in your mind. His teasing was merciless, and the pressure building inside you was unbearable. Jing Yuan seemed to revel in your reactions, his fingers trailing down your sides, every touch deliberate, calculated to leave you breathless.

Without warning, his grip on your waist tightened, and with a sudden shift of his hips, he pressed the full length of his cock against you, harder this time. You gasped, feeling the intensity of his desire as it mirrored your own, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Let me indulge in you,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over the curve of your neck, “just for tonight.”

You barely had time to process the words before his mouth was on yours, his kiss wild and hungry, tongues tangling in a passionate frenzy. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your hips and your breasts, pulling you closer to him as if he couldn’t get enough.

Each touch set your skin ablaze, the heat between you overwhelming, the tension snapping as your body pressed desperately against his.

Your mind felt hazy, lost in the sensation of him, of his tongue in your mouth, his hands grazing every inch of you. When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He stared at you for a moment, his thumb brushing across your lip, smudging the remnants of your lipstick.

“There are no words in this world,” he murmured, his gaze intense, “that can describe the beauty you hold.”

Gently, yet with the assurance of someone who knows exactly what they want, he lifted you into his arms and laid you down on his plush bed, as if you were the most precious treasure in the world. The undergarments that still clung to your ankles were swiftly removed, a final barrier between him and what he craved most.

You were pressed back against the cool silk sheets, and his lips returned to your skin, a trail of kisses that set your body ablaze. Starting at your chest, he kissed every inch with a reverence that made you shiver. His mouth lingered on your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples, alternating between soft nips and warm, lingering kisses. Each touch left your skin tingling, your breath catching with each motion.

He kissed down your neck, his hot breath sending goosebumps along your flesh. Every brush of his lips was slow, deliberate, like he was savouring each second. His kisses trailed up to your ear, the soft lobe now between his teeth, and then down the line of your jaw, every inch of you claimed by his touch.

“Jing Yuan... please...” you breathed, the words barely leaving your lips in your dazed state, the need growing insistent.

This was the first time you had uttered his name without his title, his gaze flicking over your body, a spark of hunger igniting in his golden eyes. He was ready, and so were you. His hands moved with practiced ease, ridding himself of his robes and pants in one fluid motion, the sound of fabric sliding and soft breathing filling the room.

“What a sight you are,” he whispered, his voice deep, the words dripping with admiration and lust. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as his hands slid down your body, feeling the way your skin trembled beneath his touch. “To have you in my hands...”

Your body reacted to him in ways that left you breathless—hips rising, muscles twitching, a soft moan escaping your lips as you gave in to the sensations overwhelming you. You were lost, a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation, helpless under his spell.

“Please... I need you,” you whispered, voice heavy with desire as you spread your thighs wider, silently begging for him to end the sweet torture.

His deep chuckle reverberated through your body as he moved lower, kissing the line of your stomach, each touch of his lips sending waves of pleasure through you. His mouth found the place you ached for him most, he pressed a delicate kiss againts the folds of your pussy, your eyes widening in pleasure as his tongue now gently pushes through your puffy lips— teasing, tasting, the sensation too much to bear.

You moaned, gripping the sheets beneath you as he worked with relentless skill, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

Jing Yuan's tongue was buried in your pussy, lapping up your sweet nectare. You couldn't see but his hips where rutting into the bed like an animal in heat, his groans being muffled by your pussy as he ate you like a starved man. The pleasure built and built until you were barely holding on, your body shaking, breath hitching with each stroke of his tongue.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, Jing Yuan inserts a two thick fingers into your fluttering hole, his tongue now licking and nipping at your sensitive clit, your moans started tumbling out of your mouth as you gasped like a fish out of water from the overwhelming sensation.

His hands squeezes tightly on your hips when you tugged on his silver hair, elicting a groan from him. You could feel it, your toes curled as your vision turned white almost screaming as you came in Jing Yuan's mouth. Your thighs trembling around his head, your clit now sensitive but Jing Yuan let you ride your high on his tongue and fingers until your body started to squirm.

He didnt let you go instead he started moving his fingers again, your pussy squeezed tightly on them as you shake from the over stimulation as he hears you crying and squealing.

“J-Jing Yuan p-please s-stop! it’s t-too much, fuck!” you cry out, tears stream down your face as his fingers pound in you, hands fisting the sheets as overstimulation quickly washes over your body.

Jing Yuan watches you as steady tears roll down your cheeks as you beg and beg. your body is glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, Jing Yuan could tell you was about to cum again from the way your body twist and turned in his tight hold.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck! i’m cumming again!” you wail, back arching off the bed as you cum once more. your body stiffens and this time, a stream of clear liquid shoots out of your pussy, drenching Jing Yuan's chin and the sheets even more.

your eyes are heavy and lidded, your chest heaving and nipples aching when Jing Yuan slowly removes his fingers from your pussy, you whine as you feel your juices slide down your ass.

Jing Yuan gently makes his way up your body, your body glistening with sweat as your breath heavily, your eyes solely focused on him as he gently kissed your neck.

"Turn around for me." He whispers gently, hand pushing aside a strand of hair that fell across your face. Your breath hitched as you tried to let out a sound of protest but the look in his eyes — dark, filled with need caused you to slowly turn around, your arms and legs trembling as you went on all fours. You could feel his body heat againt yours, your arms trembling to hold you up as your pussy throbbed.

You gasped as you felt his large hands cage your waist, your body trembling at the contact. Your eyes widen when you felt the thick head of his cock pressed agaisnt your opening, your body jolting from the overstimulation and pleasure as he preps your neck with kisses.

Jing Yuan let out a guttural groan, before positioning his head at your entrance and then slowly pushing his hips forward. You both let out shaky breaths at the new sensation. Your pussy gripped tightly onto his head, a hiss escapes his mouth as let's his teeth sink into your shoulder causing you to let out a choked moan.

"M-more, please" you whimper, your eyes glazed with tears meets his.The look in his golden eyes shifted from surprise to an intense hunger, making your heart race. Without a moment’s hesitation, he responded, thrusting deeper into you, his movements becoming rougher and more urgent.

“Look at you, begging for me to fill you,” he grunted, his voice low and laced with a teasing authority that sent shivers down your spine. “After months of playing hard to get who would have thought the assassin that was sent to kill me would be writhing beneath me." His words were both demeaning and intoxicating, igniting a fire within you.

His taunts made you tremble, your body instinctively fluttering around him as he drove into you. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you gasping and moaning loudly, the sound filling the room.

Jing Yuan’s pace was relentless, your arms giving up on you as you fall flat on the pillow, your face stuffed in it as you moan in pleasure. This causes Jing Yuan's big arms to cage your head, his teeth nipping your neck and back as his cock slammed into your battered pussy.

"Ah a-ah ! I'm close ! I'm close! " You screamed, your fingers grasping the silk sheets tightly as Jing Yuan started to go even faster in you. Tears escaping your eyes as your pussy clamped hard on Jing Yuan's cock as you came, yoru fluids drenching the bed below and his abdomen. Your body feeling weak as you go numb from the mind blowing orgasm.

Jing Yuan groaned at this, without warning he slapped your ass causing you to yelp from the stinging pain, suddenly, you felt him twitch inside you, that unmistakable signal that he was nearing his peak. Instinctively, you tightened around him, clenching your muscles as if to draw him deeper, eager to prolong the moment.

“you're mines.” he hissed, his breath hitching as he struggled to maintain his composure. “You’re mine to ruin, mine to break, and mine to piece back together.”

His thrusts became sloppy, the rhythm lost in a haze of pleasure, and you knew he was close. You could sense the tension in his body, the way he strained to keep himself together. He twisted your face towards his, capturing your lips with his, your mouths crashing together in a messy, fierce kiss. You swallowed his loud moan, the taste of him mingling with your own desperation, filling you with exhilaration.

As he released, warmth flooded within you, filling you completely. You felt his body shudder, every muscle tense and trembling as he rode out his orgasm, lost in the pleasure you had both created.

Jing Yuan broke the kiss, breath come out in short spurts. His eyes lingers on you as he preps a kiss on your shoulder. His rough hands knead your hips, causing a soft moan to leave past your parted lips as he slowly pulls out of you, his cum about to slip out but he pushes two thick fingers in you causing you to skirm from the feeling as he lays on the bed and pulls you on top of him.

You were entirely lost in him, every part of you surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure he gave. There was no escape, but you didn’t need one. All you desired was him—his hands on you, his body against yours, and the possessive whispers that claimed you.

Neither of you spoke, but as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep, your heart swelled with emotion. The steady beat of Jing Yuan’s heart against your skin was soothing, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

As the morning light filtered softly through the curtains, you stirred from sleep. The remnants of last night flooded your senses — the heat of Jing Yuan’s touch, the way his lips had devoured yours, the overwhelming passion that had swept you both away. But now, as you blinked into the light, something felt different.

Your hand trailed down your body, feeling fabric that didn’t belong. You were no longer bare instead, a simple white gown clung to your form. The room was tidy, all traces of what had transpired wiped clean. The intimacy of last night, the fire, the heat—it was as if none of it had ever happened.

Your heart raced as you sat up, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of it all. Did you imagine it? But the phantom touches on your skin and the ache in your muscles told you otherwise. Something real had happened between you, and now it seemed to have vanished into thin air, as though you had been dreaming.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the door creaked open. Your blood turned cold as Jing Yuan stepped inside, fully dressed in his military attire, his presence commanding as always. But it wasn’t just him. Two guards flanked him, standing rigidly behind, their eyes trained on you.

The tension in the room was suffocating. You clutched the thin fabric of the gown tightly around you, your heart hammering in your chest. He stepped closer, and his calm demeanor sent a chill down your spine.

“Awake, I see,” Jing Yuan said softly, his voice betraying none of the warmth or passion from last night. His eyes, though still intense, held a distance that you hadn't seen before. “You must have many questions.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "What is this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

He gazed at you for a moment, his face unreadable, then he spoke again, his tone firm, almost indifferent. “You are here for a reason, aren’t you? You came to kill me.”

Your breath hitched, and the truth, the mission you had pushed aside in the heat of the night, crashed back into you. But there was something in his voice, something underlying the cold exterior—a flicker of something deeper. Regret, perhaps?

“Last night,” you began, but your voice faltered. You weren’t sure what to ask. Did it mean anything to him? Was it all just a game?

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, but he quickly composed himself. "You played your part well,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’ve always known who you were."

Your chest tightened as his words sank in. You had been a pawn, a piece in his game. The passion you shared, the intimacy—it all felt tainted now, like a trap you had willingly walked into.

“I didn’t—” you tried to speak, but your voice cracked under the weight of your confusion. How could he speak so calmly, as if last night had meant nothing? As if you were nothing?

The guards behind him moved forward, their steps deliberate, and your pulse quickened. Betrayal clawed at your insides, twisting with each breath you took.

“You were sent here to assassinate me, and now…” He paused, looking at you, his expression unreadable. “Now, your mission is over. You will be taken to the interrogation room, where we’ll discuss your future.”

Before you could protest, the guards seized your arms, pulling you to your feet with a force that made you wince. You looked to Jing Yuan, searching for something—anything—in his eyes that showed he felt more than just cold calculation. But his face remained stoic, betraying nothing of the man who had held you so tenderly just hours before.

As the guards began to lead you out of the room, he spoke again, his voice carrying that same underlying emotion. “Leave her there. I’ll come soon to… interrogate her myself.”

His words sent a shiver through your body. You felt like a fool for letting your guard down, for letting your feelings cloud your judgment. The man who had made you feel alive in his arms now stood by as if you were nothing but a threat to be neutralized. The betrayal was palpable, and it stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

As the door shut behind you and the coldness of the hallway enveloped you, all you could think about was the way Jing Yuan had looked at you that night, the way his lips had moved against yours, and how you had fallen for a dangerous man who played by his own rules.

But even as the guards led you away, one thought lingered—was there more to his coldness than met the eye? Did he feel the weight of what had passed between you, or was it all just another part of the game?

As the guards led you down the cold, unfeeling hall, memories of your failed assassination attempts flooded your mind. Every time you had tried, Jing Yuan had been one step ahead — or perhaps it was you who had hesitated.

You had mixed poisons into his drinks on multiple occasions, but they had always been mild, too weak to do any real damage. It wasn’t a mistake; deep down, you knew it had been a choice. Your resolve had faltered with every passing day, each time you saw the gentle way he handled matters, his kindness to his soldiers, his quiet strength. How could you kill such a man, one who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders yet managed to offer kindness to everyone around him?

The nights you had crept into his chambers, dagger in hand, you’d been met with the rise and fall of his chest, so peaceful in his sleep. Each time, your hand had stilled, the blade hovering above him, your mind whispering that he didn’t deserve death, not like this. His kindness, his calm, his presence—it had disarmed you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

But now, as the weight of betrayal settled like a stone in your chest, you felt like a fool. A fool for letting your heart think for once, for letting emotion cloud the sharpness of your mission. You had let yourself be swayed by the man behind the title, and in return, he had used your vulnerability against you.

He knew, you thought bitterly. He had known all along that you had a soft spot for him, that your heart wasn’t as cold as it should have been. That every failed attempt on his life hadn’t been due to his strength but your own weakness.

And now, here you were—trapped. You had let your guard down, let your feelings get in the way, and he had played you. The same hands that had held you so tenderly last night now orchestrated your capture. He had been so gentle, so kind—and it had been a facade. The realization cut deeper than any blade you had ever held.

Your heart ached as the image of him, standing stoic and indifferent, replayed in your mind. You had thought, for a moment, that maybe—just maybe—there had been something real between you. But now, his calculated words echoed in your ears, a bitter reminder that you had been nothing more than a pawn in his game.

How foolish, you thought, your chest tightening with every step the guards forced you to take.

author's note:

this is my first time writing a proper s3x scene so please forgive! anyways i hope this was okay! please do like, reblog and comment <3

—usagiibun 🐇

Sunday x Reader (Drabble?)

Sunday’s only regret was you. 

He’d tried his best to suppress any feelings he had for you, smothering them within him, keeping them tucked secretly away behind his breast pocket, in the innermost reaches of his heart. 

Of course, he would not spare you from the sweet dream. Only he needed to suffer, for everyone else to partake in the sweetest of dreams, cocooned and safe from the harsh realities of the monotonous drudgery of life. He’d alone remain strong, so all the weak could indulge and live life as they wished. 

He presided over these dreams, but he did not know the ins and outs of them all, did not know what each individual person wished for, nor what they lived out in the comfort of safety. 

And he couldn’t stop his curiosity, you, his sweet little secret respite; what life did you truly wish for above all else? 

With the promise he’d never invade the sanctity of your dream again, he peered down, seeking you out amongst a sea of others. 

Only to be met with his own visage. 

In your dream, you were with him. Laughter and sweet nothings spilled between you, love curled into your forms as if you’d always been together, as if you’d always loved him. As if you needed no other. 

With a heavy heart, what if’s and what could have been on the tip of his tongue, he pulled away from the comfort of your dream, bitter on his palate like medicine. 

He returned to his gilded cage, hoping for you to remain peacefully asleep in the safety of your dreams.

Sparkle x (Gender Neutral) Reader

NSFW, 18+ only

Warnings: overstimulation, dub-con, Sparkle being Sparkle (crazy but she loves you), use of her Mask/powers

I actually posted this yesterday before the Sunday one-shot but for some reason it wasn't showing in tags?? So trying this again rip

Your vision went dark, and you yelped at the sudden intrusion; a pair of hands cupping over your eyes as you could feel someone pressing into your back. “Guess who?” There was only one person who could get into your house and sneak up on you without making a sound. It startled you every time she did it, but you were more than half certain that your reactions were the reason she did it in the first place.

You breathed a sigh of relief, “Sparkle,” You twisted in her grip, smiling at her. “You’re home.” You pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Blegh, c’mon cut it out.” She squirmed in your grip, breaking away to look at what you had cooking on the stove instead. The weather was getting colder so you were craving soup, and luckily it was just about finished. She peered into the pot, sticking a finger in to taste it. “It needs more salt.”

“Babe, you’re gonna burn yourself doing that,” you chastised.

She sighed, shrugging as she spoke, “I come home after a long work trip and you’re already nagging me. Lighten up.” You’d feel bad if there was any modicum of sincerity in the statement, but she was a Fool afterall, and she loved to grace you with any number of masks, always making you guess which was the real face beneath.

Sparkle started dishing up the soup, and the two of you sat at the dinner table to eat together. It was a rare occurrence to be able to have these quieter, domestic moments with her, as she was always flitting about traveling everywhere and you didn’t want to tie her down. Not that she ever could be. But it was becoming increasingly obvious she wanted you to join her on her excursions, even if she’d never directly ask.

“How was your job?” You asked. She hadn’t disclosed many details, but you knew it involved the Stellaron Hunters, so it couldn’t have been a particularly easy time.

She smiled at you, her eyes playful even though her smile was sharp. “Everything went off without a hitch. I’m taking you to Penacony soon. The Planet of Festivities is quite a sight.”

“I’ll have to take time off work,” you replied.

Sparkle’s smile widened, an obviously fake cheer added to her voice as she spoke, “Work this, work that, can’t we talk about something else? I can always kill your boss to get you time off.”

You tried to stifle a giggle, knowing if she thought it’d make you laugh she’d actually do it. “C’mon it’s not worth all that.”

She propped her head on one of her hands. “You don’t even need a job.” This is about as direct as she’d ever be. She was always peculiar about expressing her desires to you, either telling you nothing or telling you a million and one things, making it impossible to guess which were true and which were not. She was like this in most things, intimacy included. Sometimes, she’d insist on being so close to you it was suffocating, like you were trapped in a spider’s web, and sometimes she refused to touch you. Everything was always a part of the game, the play, a Masked Fool to the end.

As always, she was right though. She always deposited money into your account regardless of whether you wanted her to or not. So you didn’t really need a job, though it was one of the only threads to the past you still had from before you met her. Sometimes you thought it made her nervous, other times angry, others still, sad. You weren’t sure which was correct, though at the end of the day it didn’t matter, since it seemed to make her feel some way.

“I was actually thinking of quitting soon,” you admitted. You’d been thinking about it for a while, since Sparkle had first insinuated she wanted you to, and you couldn’t think of a good reason to stay. You’d rather explore the stars with her.

“Oho, and here I thought I was destined to walk about the universe by myself.” She clutched a hand to her chest dramatically, tilting her head down and closing her eyes. “I’d resigned myself to kidnapping you away with me, but I see my plans were futile. You’d instead join me of your own volition, how wonderful!”

You laughed at her overdramatics, before pausing, her words sinking in. “Wait, were you really planning on kidnapping me?”

Sparkle giggled. “What do you think?”

Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past her. She’d stolen you away on surprise trips before, pushing you to go with her and abandon your life for a handful of days to instead spend time with her. “Well, no need for all that,” you said, your voice fond despite the subject.

It seemed she was getting bored of the conversation as she pushed away from the table, coming to stand in front of you, bowing low with a hand held out. “My love, may I have this dance?”

You grasped her hand, and she pulled you out of the chair. Despite there not being any music playing, you two danced in rhythm. You followed her lead, and the two of you waltzed across the room, she spun you around, dipping you low to the ground, pressing you close and spinning you out.

Eventually, she seemed to tire of the dancing, instead tugging you towards the stairs, up and towards your bedroom. Being with her was always a guessing game and sex was no different. Her first night home in particular was a whirlwind. She rarely felt like being gentle, instead she would take you hard, fast, rough, all manner of toys or roleplay on the table, always, always down to try something new. Sometimes you’d fuck her and sometimes she’d fuck you. But other times she wasn’t even interested in sex when she came home, going straight to sleep. Though, she didn’t sleep regularly, so instead she’d just watch you sleep. You’d made the mistake of mentioning that to someone before, forgetting that most people would find that sort of behavior creepy, not romantic.

With the fervor in which she started pulling off your clothes, you knew she was definitely interested in something tonight, the gleam in her eyes alerting you that she had some sort of scheme.

“Something you’re wanting to try?” You asked.

She hummed, her smile unwavering as she started shucking her own clothes off. “Don’t know what you mean.” She pushed you down on the bed. “Face down,” she said as she fished around in the bedside table.

You turned over without resistance. It was apparent something new was on her mind and she didn’t feel like sharing what it was. Although it made anxiety swell in your gut, it also sent a bolt of arousal through you. If you wanted some sort of stability, you wouldn’t be with her. Instead, you loved the impulsivity she bore. You trusted her implicitly, probably more than you should if you were honest.

She settled behind you, shoving your legs apart with no care to be gentle. She poured a generous amount of lube directly onto your hole, causing you to shudder. She pressed a finger into you, humming in appreciation as she added a second finger in. “You feel so tight. Neglected yourself while I was away, huh? Or are you just nervous?”

“B-both,” you stuttered, hips rocking back as a moan left you as she hit a sensitive spot in you.

She chuckled. “Don’t be nervous baby.” Sparkle moved herself up a little, straddling your thigh as she rocked down, teasing herself while she prepared you. It felt like she was everywhere. Her presence was all encompassing, she always seemed to overwhelm your senses.

She pressed another finger into you, scissoring her fingers to open you up. Her other hand trailed your spine, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Gently, she traced your skin.

You yelped in pain as her nails suddenly dug into your back, raking down, leaving red lines in their wake. The pain melded with your pleasure as she abused your insides, her fingers pressing in and out of you faster and faster. Her other hand trailed back up your skin, before she tapped at your mouth. She smiled as you opened up, and she gently pressed them into your mouth, roving inside, petting your tongue and the inside of your cheek. So gentle, even as her other fingers drilled into your hole, bullying every spot within you.

You could feel heat build within you, the contrast between her ministrations turning you on further. She forced you to orgasm, not stopping even as you whined in overstimulation, spit spilling out from around her fingers in your mouth.

She didn’t stop until tears clouded your vision, and then she pulled away so suddenly it made your head spin. You gasped for air, unable to form a sentence as your ragged breathing filled the room. You could still feel her grinding into your thigh, her sticky wetness coating your flesh. She leaned forward, licking at the tear tracks on your face as she finally pulled away from your thigh, instead settling herself between you again.

“You look so cute with tears in your eyes,” Sparkle cooed. She moved, caging you in with her arms, her hands settled by your shoulders as her knees kept your legs spread. She kissed at the back of your neck, nipping at the skin here and there, and sucking bruises into your flesh as she fostered the flame of your desire. She pulled one of your hands up, lacing your fingers together.

Suddenly, you could feel something shift. She seemed to take up more space, her hand heavier where it sat atop yours. Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you felt the body of a man drape over you, the hard line of a cock digging into your back.

Your brows furrowed, your head turning enough to see what she’d done. Instead of Sparkle, the visage of one of her friends, (coworkers?), Sampo, greeted you instead. It was disconcerting hearing her ragged breathing in your ear, her normal voice replaced by one several octaves deeper. “Sparkle, what are you doing?” you asked, your previous anxiety knotting up your stomach.

Instead of answering you, she simply chuckled, the noise grating your nerves. You wiggled beneath her, trying to dislodge and get out from under her, but she simply pressed further into you, laying all of her weight on you as she pressed you into the bed. You kicked at her legs. “C’mon cut it out,” you said. Despite your protesting, you could feel your arousal spike, warmth building beneath your skin at the situation.

She kissed your ear, her lips rougher than you were used to. “Shh, it’s okay,” she said.

You could feel your heart jump to your throat as she pressed her cock to your hole, teasing for now. “Sparkle stop, let’s talk fir- Ah!” She cut you off with a rough thrust in, sheathing herself in your heat in one thrust. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, the rough stretch burning into you. It was a lot to take at once. You had no idea if her copy was, uh, exact to Sampo’s real size, or if she’d made it the size she wanted, but if it was an exact copy then you had to admit the guy had a huge dick. You felt like you could feel it in your throat, as she roughly pulled out before slamming back into you, punching a moan out of you at the harsh treatment.

She grinded into you, pulling whimpers out of you at the insistent movement. Hearing her moan caused guilt to spike in you, hearing her voice - Sampo’s voice - like this felt like you were intruding on him in so many ways. Guilt settled heavy in your gut, you felt guilty getting off to this, to someone who wasn’t Sparkle, even if it was actually her doing this to you, pulling your head apart in such a way. Your tears finally spilled down your cheeks, the guilt of the situation causing them to fall one after another.

Despite everything, though, arousal still burned in your veins. Which became all the more apparent as she began to fuck you at a steady pace. You felt trapped beneath her, where normally there were soft lines and curves, you had dense, hard and heavy muscle caging you in, pressed against you as she practically smothered you beneath her, forcing you to just take what she was giving you, nowhere to run.

Her cock scraped you raw, physically and emotionally draining as she pistoned into you, directly targeting your sweet spots. It didn’t take long to bring you close to cumming, but you tried to hold yourself back, not wanting to cum, not like this, not when she wasn’t herself.

The hand that held yours pinned to the bed squeezed your fingers, and her other hand trailed to your neck, pinning your head to the bed as you felt her breath caress your ear as she spoke, “I can feel you clenching on my cock,” she purred, punctuating the statement with a particularly hard thrust, forcing a whine from your throat. “Go on, cum. Cum to someone who isn’t me.”

You choked on a moan, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as you snapped, cumming and clenching down onto her cock. You felt gross afterwards, and you knew your face was a mess from the crying.

Sparkle didn’t stop though, continuing to fuck you through your high and through your regret and through your guilt and shameful arousal. She chuckled, the sound deep, the vibration rocking your chest. “So cute,” she said, staring at your fucked out face and tear tracks. “Gonna make me cum at this rate.” Her pace picked up as she fucked you into the bed, not letting you move even as you shuddered through overstimulation.

She moaned into your ear, the sound going straight to your core. You could feel her cock twitch within you, and as she finally came, her cum spilling deep into you, she bit down on your shoulder, teeth sunk deep into your flesh. You whined as she pulled her teeth out, instead licking at the wound before biting into another spot.

You thought after she came she’d stop fucking into you, but as she fucked her cum deeper into you, her cock still rock hard, you could tell she had no intentions of stopping yet. Your hand grasped at the sheets, trying to ground yourself as she bullied your insides until you saw stars.

“You like getting fucked like this?” Sparkle asked. “Like you’re just a stupid toy for me?” You whimpered, your cheeks heating up at her words.

The pleasure seemed to be never-ending, until she completely withdrew from you. For a second you thought maybe she’d grown tired of this, that she'd given you mercy, but then she half forced you into flipping over onto your back.

It was so much worse being able to see her like this, Sampo’s sleazy smile taunting you as she watched you like a hawk. Being able to see the flush on his cheeks, his disheveled hair, finally seeing the flushed cock between his legs. “It’s rude to stare.” Sparkle said, nudging herself between your legs, grasping her cock and guiding it to your hole again, slowly pressing into you as you hissed in pain from overstimulation.

Strong hands grasped beneath your knees, pushing your thighs up, up, up, until your muscles screamed at the strain and they laid flat to your chest. Your face contorted in pain, the position tweaking your muscles, but that only caused Sparkle to let out a throaty laugh.

“I just want to eat you alive,” she said. She pressed further into you and your breath left you all at once as her cock forced itself further into you, the new position allowing her to hit deeper into you, causing your hands to fly to her back to hold onto something. Sampo was way broader than Sparkle, bulky in a way your girlfriend definitely wasn’t. Hard back muscles flexed beneath your fingertips as you dug your nails into her back.

She leaned forward, trying to kiss you, but you tilted away, not wanting to kiss her like this. Her smile slid away, a frown tugging at her mouth. “Don’t be a brat,” she said, tugging your chin until you faced her again and she could press your lips to hers.

It felt rougher than usual, her lips slightly chapped. She snapped her hips, the sudden movement causing you to moan in surprise and she took the opportunity to shove her tongue into your mouth.

She fucked into you once more, her cock bullying you open hard and fast as she pressed into you. The kiss wasn’t any gentler. It was barely kissing at this point, instead she was practically tongue fucking your mouth. She was overwhelming you, wholly and utterly. Normally, you loved being overwhelmed by her, but guilt still pressed into you, roiling in your gut, blending and braiding into your arousal until it was impossible to separate them.

Your third orgasm came out of nowhere, hitting you hard as you clenched down onto her, milking her cock as you moaned around her tongue. Your nails raked down her back, causing her to whine at the sting. Your eyes flew open, locking with hers as she was already watching you, her eyes half lidded as she watched you as a predator stalks its prey.

You couldn’t stop your noises, whining and whimpering as overstimulation held you firmly in its grasp. Sparkle shoved her cock into you, upping the ante as she pulled her mouth away, fully bracing herself before snapping into you even faster, harder than before. You yelped, sobs leaving your throat as it turned truly painful.

Her cheeks were red, her gaze piercing as she watched you cry, a smile creeping onto her face as she shuddered. That expression was so delightful. Her nails dug into your thighs, as she thrust into you. Her hips stuttered as she came again, but she didn’t stop yet, fucking her cum deep into you until she was satisfied.

Finally, she pulled out of you, gently lowering your legs back onto the bed as she shifted, laying on to her side as she gathered your broken form into her arms. You felt a bit hollow, your hole empty as you felt cum spill out. Her illusion finally fell away as she pressed close to you, her arm wrapped around your waist.

She pressed apologetic kisses into your shoulder and neck. “Too rough?”

“No. Just caught me really off guard shifting like that,” you admitted.

You could feel her smirk on your skin. “But it was good.”

“Felt good, just hurt a bit because it was you but not.” You could feel her smile drop, as she hummed at your confession.

Sparkle’s voice was low as she spoke, “Sometimes I forget you really love me. Sorry.”

You grabbed her hand, lacing your fingers together. “Love you,” you murmured. You were exhausted after all of that.

She hummed in appreciation but Sparkle didn’t say anything. Though, the way she squeezed you tighter to her spoke volumes.

You started to drift to sleep but the only thing you could think was that although you were excited to start traveling with Sparkle, you really hoped she wouldn’t take you to see Sampo any time soon. It’d be really hard to look him in the eyes.

Sunday x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Warnings: nothing really, ig maybe a little bit of angst but more hurt/comfort, you are the Astral Express medic, you're supposed to be a fallen angel but that's not really necessary to understand this and will p much only become relevant if I ever follow up this one-shot w the same reader x Sunday (which I might bc I love this idea of fallen angel x Sunday), also this is not intended to be canon to Sunday's true form or anything since it's unconfirmed if Halovians have multiple sets of wings or not

Word Count: 1726

As the de facto medic of the Astral Express, since you were the only trained doctor, you made it your top priority to always know how every one of the passengers was doing, physically and mentally. Currently, your most challenging case sat before you; Sunday, former head of the Oak Family and newest passenger aboard the train. 

He sat stiffly, spine straight and hands crossed together neatly in his lap as he sat on your examination table. His head was facing straight but instead of looking at you, his gaze was on his hands. You’d always felt a kinship with the Halovian, whether it be due to your own (miserable) past, or the fact that you both shared avian features. Your own wings twitched, feathers fluffing slightly as you tried to puzzle out the best way to help him. Getting him to even admit he needed help was akin to pulling teeth, but you were determined to be patient. 

“Sunday, I just need to look them over, okay? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you said, your voice soft as you tried your best to coax him. 

He squeezed his hands tighter together, his voice barely audible as he spoke, “I know. I-” He cut himself off, pressing his lips closed as he refused to say anything else. Instead, he uncrossed his hands, and began disrobing his top half, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding the material off until his torso was bare. 

His wings, a dark purple akin the nightingales you’d seen on Penacony, were on his lower back, further down than your own black wings which sat between your shoulder blades. His sat around his waist, and they were very obviously neglected. They were tightly wrapped around his torso, and the feathers were dull and in disarray, it was clear they needed to be preened. Most alarmingly, his flight feathers were clipped on his left side. It made you wonder if the piercings on his upper wings weren’t of his own volition, if they were perhaps a reminder that he was a flightless bird. 

You made your way behind him so you could observe the wings fully. Sunday himself was exceedingly skinny, and you made a mental note to talk to him about that another day; when he wasn’t so shaken up. The connecting muscles to his wings were underdeveloped, making it apparent that even if his wing wasn’t clipped he still would be unable to fly. 

“Is it okay if I touch them?” you asked. Sunday gave you a shaky nod. Instead of immediately beginning a more thorough examination you spoke, “I’m going to try to stretch them out, okay? I’ll be gentle, but it’ll probably be painful or uncomfortable. Please let me know if I need to stop.” 

A rush of breath left him, before he nodded again, his hands gripping onto the edge of the examination table to brace himself. You started with his left wing; it would be the most troublesome to deal with. 

You took it slow, gently prying his wing away from his torso, stopping whenever he’d hiss in pain. It probably took the better part of a half hour to get the wing fully stretched out, but once it was, Sunday heaved a sigh of relief. 

You examined the wing more thoroughly, trying to give him a break before you worked on his other one. His flight feathers were in worse shape than you first thought; many of the primaries had been clipped, including the ones used in landing. It was quite barbaric. You briefly wondered how many times the feathers had been clipped, how long it took Halovians to grow them back in, how many times had he endured such treatment? 

The muscles in the wing were atrophied, and you knew you’d have to help Sunday set up a strict physical therapy regimen if he had any hope of ever flying again. You massaged the joints, helping to relieve the tension from being so cramped. 

You gave him another moment’s reprieve, gently kneading the area where the wing met his back, before you began working on the other wing. This one didn’t take as much time to straighten out, and you gave it just as much care as the other one, rubbing away the aches and pains that lanced through him. 

Hearing a bang, your wings shot out, wrapping around Sunday’s form before you turned to the door. “Hey- oh! Sorry, sorry.” March said, scratching at her head as she realized she was interrupting something. You could feel Sunday tuck into himself, his wings twitching as you felt him barely stop himself from wrapping them around himself. Thankfully, your wingspan was larger than his, mostly covering him from March’s view. “Um, I was just going to ask if you’d seen Dan Heng, but I’m guessing not, so I’ll leave.” she said, giving an awkward laugh. 

“See you later March,” you said as she ducked out the door, giving it a firm shove shut. You could hear her voice carry through the door, speaking to the Trailblazer, before the two wandered off, presumably to find the elusive archivist. 

Your wings settled back into place, tucking them against your back as you sighed. “Sorry, Sunday. Are you okay?” 

His breath was shaky as you peered down at him, his face flushed from embarrassment. You weren’t sure if he was embarrassed at the thought of March seeing him in such a vulnerable state, or if it was because you’d wrapped him in your wings. After a long moment, he responded, “Yes, I am…fine. You may continue.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement before giving his wings another once over before you pulled away. “I won’t lie to you, they’re in rough shape.” You moved back to the otherside of the table so you could look at him as you spoke. “You need to stop constricting them immediately. The blood flow is severely damaged, and your joints are in less than ideal shape from the abuse. The bones themselves are doing well, but the muscles are atrophied.” You took a deep breath before continuing, “It’s going to take a lot of work to get them healthy again, but after strengthening them, and once your flight feathers grow back in, it could be possible to fly again.” 

His face seemed to crumple at your words. This…was not an expression you’d ever seen on him before, especially considering he’d tried his best to appear perfect, hiding away any perceived flaw away from prying eyes. You had to stop yourself from reaching out, uncertain if he’d be appreciative of any physical contact, even if all you wanted to do right now was comfort him. All at once his expression dropped, his eyes downcast and gaze dead as he spoke, the whisper so low you weren’t sure he meant for you to hear, “Do I even deserve…?” 

You sighed. “Forget whether you deserve it or not, do you want it?”

Sunday raised his head, looking you in the eyes, though his gaze remained far away as his lips parted. “I don’t know.” His expression turned pained as he licked his lips, nervous, as he finally seemed to see you again. “Can you help me fix them?” 

You smiled, nodding. “I have some general ideas on what needs to be done, but I’ll do a bit more research on Halovians specifically to help, just give me a day or two to figure out a plan. For now though, we’ll need to get you some better fitting clothes, and the feathers need to be preened. If you’d like, I can do that, or I can leave you to your own devices.” 

His cheeks slowly flushed again, the wings by his ears fluttering nervously, and you had to suppress the desire to cup his face in your hands. He was so pretty it was unfair, but you wanted to help him, and it wouldn’t do to admit any budding feelings you had for the Halovian. It was obvious he needed a friend, and you didn’t want to jeopardize the fragile trust built between the two of you. 

Sunday cleared his throat. “If you truly would not mind, your help would be appreciated.” 

“Do you want tea or anything? This may take a little bit of time,” you said. 

He shook his head, “That is unnecessary.” 

The two of you situated on the examination table, you had your own legs crossed together as you found the most comfortable position. You began your work; gently opening pin feathers and brushing out old feathers that were stuck, all the while carefully avoiding any blood feathers, lest you injure him. 

As you worked, tension seemed to seep out of Sunday, and every once in a while he breathed a sigh of relief. You wondered when he’d last been preened by anyone else; his smaller wings by his wings were taken well care of, his own handiwork you presumed, and the way he shuddered at each gentle touch of yours, each delicate caress as you dutifully worked through the plumage, was telling enough. 

It took over an hour to completely finish, and your hands and fingers ached, but it was well worth the effort. You stretched your hands, your joints popping as you did. “Alright, you’re good to go,” you said, sliding off the examination table to once again stand in front of him. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

“Of course.” You smiled at him. “Just ask if you want me to preen them again, okay?” He nodded at your words, giving you a small smile in return. “Plus, if you’d like, you’re welcome to return the favor one of these days.” 

His eyes widened at your offer. “You would trust me to preen your wings?” 

Your brows furrowed as a slight frown made its way onto your face. “Yeah. It’s not that surprising is it? I trust you, Sunday. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, and I’m not going to condemn you for yours. The Express is about starting over, about not letting your past weigh you down. Instead, blaze the trail, see the stars, do what you want.” 

A soft smile seeped back onto your face as you spoke once more, “Trust, and be trusted in turn, by your fellow passengers. There’s a whole universe waiting for you, Sunday.”

Sunday HSR X Reader

꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ Get used to it ꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱

masterlist

part 2

a small drabble with him as a passenger of the astral express…… and march being a fangirl

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ The Astral Express gym wasn’t exactly high tech, but it had everything you needed: open space, training mats, and just enough echo to make your footsteps sound cooler than they actually were. Sunday stood on the mat already, stretching his arms slowly. He was always composed. polished words, a little distant but never unfriendly. A recent addition to the Express, still settling in. You figured sparring would be a good way to break the ice. Or, at the very least, make him sweat a little.

“You ever sparred before?” you asked, rolling your shoulders as you stepped onto the mat across from him.

“Once or twice,” Sunday replied, giving you a look that was polite. “I assume you’ve done this more than that.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, a bit. We do it sometimes, just to stay sharp. Helps keep my mind quiet too.”

That made him pause for a moment. “I can understand that.” There was a brief stretch of silence as you both settled into your stances. You smiled.

“Alright. Light spar. First to three taps?”

“Fair enough.”

Then you moved. Sunday was careful. Precise. He didn’t rush or overstep, but you could tell he was reading you watching how you shifted your weight, how fast you reacted. You responded in kind, your movements smooth and quick, not showy like usual. This wasn’t about flair. It was about rhythm, connection, learning someone without needing words. The first tap came when you managed to slip behind him and brush his shoulder. He looked surprised. The second came quickly after his palm barely grazing your side as he dodged your next strike.

It was fun. Quietly fun.

Somewhere in the middle of the third round, things shifted. You both moved at the same time your foot angled to pivot, his shifting forward for a counter. It wasn’t anything dramatic, no wild kick or spin, just a split second misstep.

You felt your foot catch his. His arm moved quickly, instinctively reaching to steady you. Too late. Your balance tipped forward, his backward, and gravity did the rest.

The two of you landed with a dull thud on the mat. For a second, neither of you said anything. You opened your eyes to find yourself sprawled over him, chest pressing lightly against his, palms braced on either side of his shoulders. His arm was still around your waist where he’d tried to catch you.

Your faces were close. Close enough to count the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes. Close enough that his breath, warm and even, brushed against your cheek.

“Oh.” The sound escaped before you could help it. Not exactly graceful.

Sunday’s eyes didn’t move away from yours. His expression wasn’t annoyed, or embarrassed. If anything, he looked… thoughtful. Still. Like he wasn’t sure what to make of the moment either. You felt the weight of the silence more than the fall.

“I, uh” You shifted slightly, meaning to push yourself up, but your hand slipped against the mat, and you instinctively leaned closer to steady yourself. Now your nose almost touched his.

His hand, still on your back, tensed faintly just a twitch. But he didn’t move it. You laughed under your breath, a little breathless. “This probably looks worse than it is.”

“Maybe,” Sunday said, voice low, not quite smiling but not pulling away either. “But I’m not complaining.”

That made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him again, There was something softer in his face now. you realized you weren’t in a rush to get up. Not yet.

“…You okay?” you asked, quieter this time.

He nodded once. “You?”

You nodded too, eyes not leaving his. “Yeah.”

Another beat passed. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing under your hands. Not hurried. Just… calm. You slowly pushed yourself up and off of him, offering your hand once you were upright. He took it without hesitation. His fingers were warm.

Back on his feet, Sunday brushed some dust off his sleeve, but his eyes lingered on you longer than before. There was nothing more to say right then. So he just smiled and walked away.

“God I need a cold shower after that”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Turns out it wasn’t a cold shower but nevertheless, a shower. The steam from your shower still clung to your skin as you stepped into the parlor car, toweling your damp hair with one hand, dressed in your usual cozy nightwear. You’d taken your time lingering under the hot water, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in your chest after the spar with Sunday.

It was the way he looked at you. Still. Quiet. And how you hadn’t wanted to move. You exhaled, trying to shove the memory aside. Maybe it was just adrenaline. Heat of the moment stuff. Totally normal when you faceplant into someone’s lap. Right?

As you rounded the corner into the parlor car, voices floated up from the seating area. You paused half curious, half wary.

“…I’m telling you,” came March’s unmistakable whisper. “They were on top of each other. Like, full on dramatic slow motion fall. And neither of them moved for a good ten seconds. It was so weirdly quiet. I thought they were gonna kiss.”

Your stomach dropped. Your face lit up like a reactor core.

“March.” That was Dan Heng. His tone had that deadpan flatness that meant you’re being ridiculous again.

“No, I’m serious!” March hissed. “It was intense. They were looking at each other like… like in one of those cheesy holo dramas. And she totally forgot I was there. I had to back out slowly like I was interrupting something.”

“Maybe you were,” Caelus muttered under his breath.

“EXACTLY,” March said. “I mean, I always thought something might happen, but not this soon. And with Sunday? He’s like… all elegant and mysterious”

“I heard that.”

Three heads whipped around at once. You stood in the doorway, arms crossed, still towel drying your hair, blinking at them like you’d just caught them stealing cookies.

March squeaked and jumped three inches off the couch. “You! When did you get there?!”

“Long enough,” you said flatly, stepping fully into the car. “Long enough to hear my public execution.”

March scrambled to explain herself, hands flailing. “No no no! It wasn’t an execution, it was it was a friendly dramatic retelling! Like bedtime gossip!”

You stared at her. Dan Heng looked like he was rethinking every decision that led him to this moment. Caelus was trying very hard not to laugh.

You pointed at March. “Next time, announce the playbill if you’re gonna perform my personal life in three acts.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” March said, now clutching a cushion to her face. “Honestly, I thought it was kind of cute!”

“March.”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop talking!”

You plopped down into the seat beside her, stealing the cushion from her arms to bury your face in it.

“I hate everything,” came your muffled voice.

Dan Heng finally looked up from his book. “So… did anything actually happen?”

You didn’t answer. When you pulled the pillow away, your face was still pink. You shrugged. You slumped into the seat and closed your eyes.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You walked along the glowing path of the new planet’s market district, your boots clicking softly against the polished stone. Lanterns floated above the crowd, casting a warm shimmer over everything, and strange alien wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze. It was one of the calmer stops for the Astral Express no explosions, no urgent missions. Just exploration, some research, and a little breathing room.

You sipped your drink a fizzy, spiced thing with a color that probably wasn’t natural and hummed to yourself as you trailed behind March and Caelus. They were arguing about the best souvenir to bring back for Pom–Pom.

You lingered by a street vendor selling constellation shaped pastries when a man tall, smug, and clearly very into himself sidled up beside you.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said, his tone low and confident, like he thought he was the main character in a romance drama.

You blinked, startled. “I’m uh, I’m good, thanks.”

But he didn’t get the hint. He smiled wider, stepping just a little closer. “You sure? Someone like you shouldn’t spend a night like this alone. I know a place nearby quiet, private. Just you and me, maybe some music”

“Wow,” you interrupted, trying to laugh it off. “That’s… forward.”

“Life’s short,” he replied smoothly. “Why waste time pretending?”

You took a step back, now officially uncomfortable. “Really, I’m not interested”

“She’s not.”

The voice came from behind you, calm and steady. Sunday. You turned your head just as he stepped into view, his hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but voice just sharp enough to cut tension.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he added casually. “She’s not into that sort of thing.”

Your eyes widened. Girlfriend? Oh.

The guy blinked, his confidence faltering. “Oh I didn’t realize…”

“Now you do,” Sunday said, still polite, still calm. “You can move along.”

The man muttered something under his breath and walked off, melting into the crowd like smoke.

You exhaled slowly. “Okay. That was…”

“Uncomfortable,” Sunday finished for you, tilting his head slightly. “He wasn’t taking the hint.”

“No kidding,” you muttered. Then, with a faint smile, “Thanks for the save.”

He looked at you, eyes softening just a little. “You looked like you needed one.”

You nodded. “I did. But also ‘girlfriend?’ Really?”

“Seemed effective,” he replied without missing a beat. “Was I wrong to assume you wouldn’t want to go home with a stranger tonight?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, definitely not wrong. Just… caught me off guard.”

He gave a small shrug. “You can correct the record if you want.”

You looked at him, thoughtful now. The lantern light played against the sharp lines of his face, but his gaze was gentle, open.

“Nah,” you said, voice light. “Let them think I’ve got someone.”

Sunday gave the smallest smile. And then, almost too quiet to hear. “Maybe someday they’ll be right.”

You turned to him but he was already walking ahead, hands still in his pockets, calm as ever. You blinked. Then grinned.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

March wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not really. She had just been browsing one of the cute trinket stalls on the edge of the plaza admiring some heart shaped glass charms when she heard your voice from the next row over. You sounded… awkward. Uncomfortable.

Curious, March peeked around the corner, just in time to see some local guy lean in too close to you. His tone was oily, confident in that blech kind of way that made her want to throw a glowing pebble at his head. You were clearly trying to shake him off.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

March’s soul left her body.

Sunday’s voice was smooth and even, not threatening, but with that finality that made the creepy guy instantly freeze. He stepped up beside you with this casual calm, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but there was no doubt in his tone.

“She’s not into that sort of thing,” he added coolly. “You can move along.”

The guy mumbled something and slinked away. March’s brain started loding the spinny ball of death.

Girlfriend? GIRLFRIEND?!

She didn’t even mean to gasp aloud, but it happened. Thankfully, no one heard. She ducked back behind the trinket stall, crouching like she was dodging a security drone. Her heart thumped against her ribs. When she peeked again, you were talking to Sunday, flustered and blushing. He stood there like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just set the local rumor mill on fire with one casual sentence.

March didn’t wait another second. She took off sprinting.

“I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.”

Caelus and Dan Heng both jumped in their seats as March burst into the tea shop, nearly knocking over a decorative lantern in her haste.

Dan Heng put down his cup with a sigh. “Let me guess.”

“No no guessing. Just listen.” March bent over the table, panting dramatically. “Sunday just called her his girlfriend. To a random guy. Who was hitting on her.”

Caelus blinked. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me! He said it without hesitation., ‘She’s my girlfriend.’ Boom. IT WAS SO KNIGHT IN SHINNING ARMOUR.”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow. “And she didn’t correct him?”

“Not at all! She blushed! She just stood there blushing!”

Caelus slowly grinned. “Huh. I thought we were still in the pining phase.”

“That’s what I thought too!” March wailed, dropping into a seat across from them. “I thought I had time to mentally prepare for the will they won’t they!”

Dan Heng leaned back. “Maybe they skipped to the good part.”

March glared. “This is a story, Dan Heng. There’s a structure.”

Caelus sipped his tea again, amused. “BUT LIKE he did that just to protect her. Im sure we would do the same thing”

“Shhhhh are either of you wanting to marry her and want to look longingly at her.”

Dan Heng muttered, “I don’t think that that matters when you’re watching out for someone”

March just pointed toward the plaza. “Mark my words. Those losers are happening .”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

March 7 lay curled beneath her mountain of pastel blankets, one leg sticking out, mouth slightly open, a bubble of drool forming with every breath. She looked… innocent. Unaware. Vulnerable.

Perfect. You stood at the edge of her bed, Caelus beside you, both cloaked in shadows and silence. “She sleeps like someone who hasn’t committed crimes,” you whispered.

“She sleeping like she didn’t fully diss Dan Heng and I for just existing,” Caelus murmured, smirking. “She called me a coward yesterday for not pushing you two together faster.”

You narrowed your eyes at the blissfully unaware March, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Your time of reckoning is over.”

And then, like a flash of divine vengeance, the pillow came down. WHUMP. March jolted awake with a squeak, arms flailing, hair a tangled mess. “WHAT WHO”

“JUSTICE,” you declared, striking again, this time dual wielding pillows like a vengeful sleep deprived warlord. “FOR PEACEFUL EXISTENCE.”

“TRAITOR!” March screamed as another pillow hit her in the face, this one clearly Caelus’s, who was now leaning against her dresser and howling with laughter. “You were supposed to be neutral!”

“I was never neutral,” Caelus grinned, tossing another pillow into your hands like a loyal arms dealer. “I just picked the winning side.”

“You picked VIOLENCE!”

“You picked CRAZY

Pillows flew. March kicked off her covers and dove behind the mountain of backup pillows she had an arsenal you knew too well. She emerged like a pink haired general, dual wielding plushies shaped like various alien mascots.

“I DID NOTHING TO YOU CAELUS!” she shouted, flinging one at Caelus’s head. “I THOUGHT YOU SHIPPED THIS LIKE ME! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!”

“I WAS trying to make it happen, March!” you cackled, blocking her throw with your arm. “but you’re crazy lady.”

“Because SOMEBODY has to!”

The room became a flurry of feathers and yells, the floor littered with fabric casualties. March screamed something about “romantic sabotage” while Caelus used a star shaped cushion as a shield and tried not to collapse from laughter. Eventually, panting and half buried beneath a pile of glittery pillows, March flopped onto her back.

“This isn’t over,” she wheezed. “You might’ve won the battle…”

You sat on the floor, leaning against her bedframe, heart light and cheeks aching from laughing too hard. March peeked at you with a sleepy, dramatic glare.

“Just admit you like him,” she muttered.

You grinned. “No comment.”

Caelus snorted. “So that’s a yes.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The corridor was quiet, save for the distant, muffled thumps echoing from March’s room. Sunday padded down the hall in soft slippers, wrapped in a navy blue pajama set that still looked oddly regal despite the sleepy looseness of it. The collar was slightly askew, and his curls had lost their typical styling, falling gently across his forehead. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him toward the commotion curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe instinct.

The door to March’s room was open just enough. And there you were. Mid laugh, caught in the middle of a pillow war that had clearly escalated. Caelus was ducked behind a wardrobe like it was a bunker, March stood on her bed like a self declared queen of feathers, and you glorious in your pyjamas were twirling a pillow like a blade of justice.

Feathers floated through the air like snowflakes. Sunday didn’t move. He leaned against the doorframe, half in shadow, just out of your view. And he watched. And he smiled. He’d grown up in rooms where laughter felt rehearsed. Where joy was reserved for ceremonies, and everything had meaning, even the silence. He had known peace, yes but the kind that was still, stagnant. Like a pond reflecting stars instead of the sky itself.

Robin had always tried to shield him. Kept him wrapped in the comfort of his ideals, gave him a dream so beautiful he forgot what real light looked like. Messy, loud, brilliant life. The way your hair stuck to your cheek with sweat, the way your eyes gleamed as you dodged March’s wild throw, the unfiltered, unashamed joy in your voice as you shouted something absurd about “pillow fueled vengeance.”

He’d never seen experienced this feeling. Sunday’s heart thudded quietly in his chest, a rhythm that didn’t belong to the Family or any script he’d ever memorized. He liked that you weren’t afraid to be ridiculous. That you laughed freely. That you made others laugh.

He liked that you didn’t seem to carry your burdens in front of him not because they didn’t exist, but because you chose, for a moment, not to let them define you. he liked that when you were with your friends like this, you looked entirely untouchable. Unreachable. He wanted to reach anyway. But he stayed still. Let the moment stay yours. A feather floated past his cheek. Sunday blinked once, then quietly turned, retreating back down the hall before anyone noticed. He didn’t need to be in that moment to be part of it.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Feathers still drifted in your hair. Your arms ached from swinging pillows like weapons of mass destruction. March had declared herself “the rightful queen of shipwide shipping” before collapsing in a pile of her own making, and Caelus was last seen crawling down the hallway muttering something about betrayal and glitter.

You didn’t make it to your room. Your legs had carried you halfway down the train, and then… gave up. The Parlor Car welcomed you with soft lights and the hush of starlight outside the window. It was quiet here. Peaceful. And most importantly there was a couch.

You barely noticed the figure already sitting there. You just dropped into the opposite end of the long velvet seat with a graceless thump, curling onto your side and sighing like the soul had been knocked out of you. Your hair stuck to your forehead. Your shirt was rumpled. You didn’t even bother taking off your socks.

Sleep claimed you within seconds. Sunday, seated near the center of the couch with a book resting gently across his lap, blinked slowly. He hadn’t even heard you come in. His eyes drifted from the page, tracing over your sleeping form. The way your chest rose and fell. The faint smudge of pillow war aftermath still clinging to your cheek. One of your shoes had fallen off somewhere on the way in your foot dangled off the edge of the couch, sock half hanging.

You looked peaceful. He closed the book without a sound. He stood, quietly padded over to the small linen cabinet near the entrance of the car, and pulled out a soft, navy blue blanket. One of Himeko’s spares, likely. He unfolded it carefully, draped it over you from shoulders to toes, and adjusted it so it wouldn’t slip off during the night.

Then he knelt beside the couch, brushing a stray feather from your hair with a light, careful touch. in a voice only the walls heard, he murmured,

“Sleep well. May your dreams never be burdens.”

He lingered for a moment, hand resting just beside your shoulder. Then he moved to the nearby armchair, sat down, and tilted his head toward the stars just outside the wide train windows. His book remained unopened in his lap, forgotten. He didn’t need it. Tonight, the soft rhythm of your breathing was enough.

Caelus X Reader Honkai Star Rail

“Another Me in Another World”

Masterlist

pov you come from a timeline where you and caelus loved each other. Though now thrown into this world you don’t remember anything.

:0

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ The moment the warp settled, a shiver laced down Caelus’ spine.

They stood at the edge of a crumbling city floating in a pocket of broken time what Herta dubbed a “dimensional fault zone,” where history bent like glass under pressure. Fractured towers loomed above, suspended by unseen strings. The air crackled, distorted. But none of it compared to the static in his chest. She was here. He didn’t know how he knew only that the moment he stepped off the Express, his heart started pounding like it remembered something he didn’t. Then he saw her. She was standing alone at the edge of a fractured platform, long coat fluttering behind her like a shadow. Mask half lowered, a Stellaron Hunter insignia stitched boldly across her sleeve. And when her gaze met his sharp, unreadable his world tipped on its axis.

“…You,” Caelus breathed.

You didn’t blink. “So you’re the Express’s precious Trailblazer.” His title sounded foreign in your mouth, like it didn’t belong like you didn’t want it to. But your fingers twitched slightly at your side, as if muscle memory betrayed you. Behind Caelus, March and Dan Heng tensed. “Careful,” Dan Heng said lowly, “she’s one of Kafka’s.”

But Caelus stepped forward anyway. You didn’t move. Not when he stopped a few feet away. Not when he tilted his head, searching your eyes for something you didn’t even know you’d lost.

“There’s something familiar about you,” he said softly.

Your lips curved into something like a smirk but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I hear that a lot before people try to shoot me.”

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

“And I’m not going to hesitate if you become a threat,” you replied coolly, though something in your voice faltered at the end. Just a little.

A pause stretched between you.

Then he said it, almost like a confession to the wind “I’ve seen you before. In dreams.”

The expression you wore froze. You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your throat tightened, because you’d seen him too every night since you woke up in Elio’s care, with a name you barely remembered and a void where your past should’ve been. A silver haired boy with amber eyes, reaching for you just as you disappeared. And now he was here, real and breathing and looking at you like he knew your soul.

“I don’t know you,” you said, a bit too quickly.

“Maybe not,” Caelus said, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips, “but I think… I loved you, once.”

Your heart missed a beat. Behind your back, your fingers curled into a fist and you backed up. You hated the way his words made your chest ache. Hated the way the cold mask you wore suddenly felt too heavy. Because if what he said was true if you had loved him once then fate had played a cruel trick and you didn’t know if you had the strength to undo it.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ The world returned in fragments like shards of a broken mirror pressed too close to your eyes. At first, there was only the hum. Low, metallic, steady. Then light. Blinding. Cold. You gasped. Air surged into your lungs like you hadn’t breathed in centuries. You jolted upright with a strangled sound, hand instinctively reaching out for something someone.

But there was only silence. You blinked furiously, vision adjusting to the sterile, glass panelled room around you. Pale walls. A console blinking with unreadable data. You were lying on a bed no, a containment pod, cracked slightly down the side. It smelled like ozone and dust.

“Easy little one.” A voice. Calm, smooth, a touch amused. You turned sharply.

Kafka stood at the foot of the pod, arms crossed, one brow slightly arched. She looked completely unbothered, as if this was routine. As if you were routine. You stared at her like she might be part of the dream.

“Who…?” Your voice rasped out, raw. “Where…?”

“Questions already?” Kafka mused.

You opened your mouth to retort and froze. You didn’t know your name. No, wait you did. Barely. It floated to the surface like a whisper. You clutched it like a lifeline. “…My name is…” You hesitated. “I think it’s [Y/N].”

Kafka nodded slowly, like she was testing the shape of your name against the air. “It suits you.”

You sat there, stunned. Trembling slightly. “What… happened to me?”

She shrugged, a glint in her violet eyes. “A warp event. Something… untraceable. We found you drifting between coordinates with a fractured signal and half a heartbeat. Elio said you’d be important.”

“Elio…?”

“You’ll meet him eventually. For now, it’s just us.” You looked down at your hands. They felt wrong. Or maybe the world did.

“I don’t remember anything,” you whispered.

“No,” Kafka said. “But your instincts remain intact. That’s the part that matters.” You flinched when she stepped closer, but she only placed a hand on your shoulder gentle, grounding. Her smile softened, just slightly.

“Listen to me. You were meant for something greater. A fate rewritten by stars too scared of your potential. Elio saw it. And I do too.”

You stared up at her, desperate, haunted. “Then why do I feel like I’m… missing something?”

Kafka tilted her head, curious. “Missing someone, you mean?” Your breath caught. Because for all the blanks in your memory, there was one thing one constant you couldn’t explain away. Amber eyes, filled with light. A boy smiling at you like you were his entire world. Reaching for your hand as everything around you crumbled.

“I don’t know who he is,” you whispered. “But I see him when I sleep.” Kafka didn’t answer right away.

Then, softly “Maybe one day, you’ll remember. Maybe one day, he’ll find you.” You never remembered the moment you met him. There was no clean origin, no first conversation etched in time just the feeling. Like gravity had shifted in your chest. Like your soul had turned its head toward someone and said, “There you are.”

Even in the days after waking, long before Elio whispered of fate and purpose, you carried that strange ache. It sat beneath your ribs, subtle but persistent. As if your heart had memorized a rhythm it could no longer hear and still beat along with it anyway. And always, him. A boy reaching for you through dreams. Sometimes smiling. Sometimes calling your name. Sometimes standing still at the edge of a world collapsing in gold. You never saw his full face, not really. It shifted with every dream like your memory was afraid to settle. But the feeling stayed the same. Safety. Sadness. Love.

Kafka called it a side effect of a damaged warp phantom memories stitched together by a soul that had jumped too many coordinates, too fast. Elio said nothing. He only looked at you, eyes unreadable, and murmured “Even in broken timelines, some threads find each other again.”

You didn’t know what that meant. Not then. But now standing in this fractured city, staring into Caelus’s eyes you do. Because it’s not a coincidence. Not a trick of dreams or Stellaron interference. It’s older than memory. Deeper than fate. A bond written somewhere before the stars. You and Caelus are mirror souls two halves born in the same cosmic breath, scattered by a universe that didn’t know how to hold you.

Maybe you boarded the Astral Express, once. Maybe you stood beside him, laughed with him, loved him. Maybe you were torn from that path by a warp gone wrong, or a choice you never knew you made. But your souls remember. They reach for each other still in dreams, in battles, in silences where your fingers almost twitch toward his before you stop yourself.

You were meant to walk together. But the universe split you. Now, you’re on opposite sides of a war you don’t fully understand. But the bond? It hasn’t faded. It can’t. Because no matter how much memory was taken, how many times your paths diverged. You are still drawn to him. Still tethered by something ancient and unfinished.

And when Caelus whispered, “I think I loved you, once,” your soul didn’t hesitate. It whispered back “You still do.”

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

At first, you didn’t speak to anyone. You woke, you trained, you followed instructions. No questions. No smiles. No attachments. That was how it started. The other Stellaron Hunters didn’t mind. Blade said nothing, as usual. Silver Wolf barely looked up from her screens. Sam never came close enough for conversation, and Kafka was always watching.

She never pushed, never pried. Just watched, like she already knew the storm inside you and was waiting for the clouds to shift. But it was her, in the end, who pulled you into the rhythm of this strange place. It started with a game.

“You’re watching me again,” you muttered one evening, eyes fixed on the holographic wall map you’d been pretending to study for the last ten minutes.

Kafka leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “I do that.”

You turned, half expecting mockery in her eyes. Instead, there was something softer faint amusement, edged with quiet interest.

“I’m not broken,” you said flatly. “You don’t have to treat me like I’ll crack open.”

“I never said you were,” she replied, and then, after a pause, “But you are still unfinished.”

“Unfinished?”

Kafka stepped forward, her coat trailing behind her like a slow moving shadow. “You remember fragments. Dreams. Pieces of another life. You haven’t decided yet who you want to be in this one.”

You clenched your jaw. “Maybe I already have.”

“Have you?” she asked, too gently.

You didn’t answer.

Later that night, she left something outside your room.A data pad. A short file. A simulation: sparring tactics against hypothetical enemies. Paired drills. On a whim, you ran the simulation. when you did, it loaded a preset with Kafka’s movement patterns coded as the partner. Every step she made was measured, confident. Every time you moved, the code adapted like she was anticipating you. Like she already knew how you fought. You didn’t sleep that night. Not because of fear or anxiety, but because you became entranced

From then on, things shifted.

You stopped avoiding the others in the corridors. Started nodding back when Silver Wolf greeted you with a lazy two finger wave. Listened when Blade offered one word advice during training. Responded when Kafka teased you, even if it was just with a dry, “Don’t push your luck.”

You began asking questions quiet ones, when no one was around.

“What’s Sam’s story?”

“Why does Blade meditate with his blade drawn?”

“Does Silver Wolf ever lose in those games?”

And every time, Kafka answered. Not always directly. Sometimes with riddles, sometimes with little smiles that said, You’ll figure it out. But she answered. More than that she listened. When you told her about the dreams again, she didn’t tell you to ignore them.

She only asked, “Do you want to remember?”

You did. Even if it hurt.

Weeks passed.

Your coat bore the Hunter insignia now. You walked with purpose in the base’s dim halls. You learned their methods how to dismantle systems, how to fight in sync with someone you weren’t sure you trusted, how to exist beside people who had no need for sentiment, but somehow left space for it anyway. Kafka didn’t change much.

But you started to see the way she lingered when Blade was injured. The way she glanced at Silver Wolf with a sisterly fondness when she thought no one noticed. The way she always made sure you got the missions that aligned with your strengths.

“Why do you help me?” you asked once, after a particularly clean victory where the two of you fought side by side, flawless.

Kafka didn’t miss a beat. “Because I remember what it feels like to be lost. And because Elio says you’re important.”

You scoffed. “You always follow Elio’s predictions?”

Kafka’s lips curved. “Only when I agree with them.” despite yourself, you smiled back.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Kafka’s voice was calm over the comms.

“Quick in, quick out. Eyes open, [Y/N]. The relay’s still broadcasting faint traces of encrypted Express data. Elio wants to know why.” You crouched behind a collapsed support beam, hand tightening on your weapon. Your breath fogged slightly in the cold air. The station’s artificial gravity pulsed irregularly, like the heartbeat of something half dead.

“I don’t like it here,” you murmured. “Too quiet.”

“You’ll get used to that,” Kafka replied. “Most haunted places start that way.”

The door groaned as it opened rusted metal, reluctant hinges. You stepped inside, Kafka at your back, the hallway stretching before you like the throat of a dying star. The walls were scorched. Burned out terminals flickered and fizzed with leftover sparks. Bits of fabric clung to jagged debris passenger coats, maybe. You stepped over a half buried nameplate that read T78–Celestial Relay: Astral Express Docking Site.

You froze. Astral Express. The words rang in your head like a forgotten lullaby.

“Something wrong?” Kafka asked.

You stared at the nameplate, unsure what to say. “I… I think I’ve been here before.”

Kafka didn’t answer right away. She simply stepped beside you, gaze trailing over the ruined corridor. “Maybe you have.”

You pressed your hand against the wall, fingers brushing a faded imprint someone had drawn stars here once. The paint had nearly chipped away, but you could still make out the rough lines of a train and what looked like… a tiny figure standing at its edge. Your heart clenched. And then A whisper. Soft. Unmistakable.

“–[Y/N], you coming? We don’t leave people behind–”

You whipped around. No one was there. The hallway behind you remained empty, Kafka standing still as a statue beside the doorway.

“What did you hear?” she asked quietly.

You blinked. “That voice. I… I knew it.”

Kafka turned to face you, her expression unreadable. “What did it sound like?”

“Warm,” you whispered, before you could stop yourself. “He called my name like it meant something. Like I was his… crew.”

A slow beat of silence passed. Kafka stepped forward and reached up gently pressed two fingers to your temple. Not unkind. Not forceful. Just enough pressure to draw your attention.

“That’s not just a memory,” she murmured. “That’s a tether.” Your breath hitched.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Kafka said. “Elio predicted this. A place would wake the memories. A name. A sound. You weren’t meant to forget it all. The universe just… paused you. Stalled the connection.”

You turned toward the hallway again. In the distance, barely audible, came another voice. Fainter this time. Familiar.

“Don’t wander off again, [Y/N]…”

Your lips parted. You could see it, just for a second flashing gold windows, March’s laughter, the faint hum of the Astral Express engine purring beneath your feet. It faded as quickly as it came.

“I… was with them,” you said softly, gripping your sleeve. “Before. Before all this. I can feel it.” Kafka studied you with something like pride.

“You’re remembering who you were. The question now is who do you want to be?”

You didn’t answer. Not yet. Instead, you turned back down the hall and whispered, like a promise only the stars could hear,

“I’ll find you.”

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ The first time he saw her, it was in a dream. She stood at the edge of a broken platform, surrounded by stardust. Hair swaying in a nonexistent wind, face turned away, just slightly. The light around her bent like it knew her. Soft, reverent.

She didn’t speak. Caelus woke with his chest aching. At first, he chalked it up to warp sickness. Another leftover hallucination, maybe Stellaron residue playing tricks on his head. It wasn’t new. Flashes of unfamiliar places, déjà vu that made no sense. The usual.

But this was different. Because the girl didn’t fade. She kept showing up. Not just in dreams now, but in thoughts. In echoes. In odd moments where he’d catch his reflection in a terminal screen and think She’s looking for me. He missed her. This random girl.

Without knowing her name. Without knowing if she was real. He missed her. Like his soul had once been stitched to hers, and something some event, some warping twist of fate had torn it in half.

“Hey,” March’s voice snapped him out of it, “you okay?”

He blinked. Realized he’d been staring out the train’s window for who knows how long. The stars looked endless tonight. Cold. Unreachable.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” she teased, leaning in. “Don’t tell me you’re finally getting poetic about the stars. Welt’s going to cry.”

He tried to smile. “Nothing important.”

But even then, he heard it.

A whisper, not quite sound, threading through his mind like a thread through fabric:

“Caelus…”

The way she said it wasn’t scared. Or urgent. It was warm. Familiar.

Intimate.

He rubbed at his temple. “It’s happening again.”

March sobered. “The dreams?”

He nodded. “She’s… everywhere. But I don’t know her.”

“You’re sure she’s not someone we met on another planet?”

“I know I’ve never met her,” Caelus murmured. “But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I’ve always known her. Like I’m forgetting something I should never have forgotten.”

March frowned, stepping a little closer. “What does she look like?”

“I don’t know. Her face is always in light. Or in motion. Or…” He sighed. “She’s always just out of reach.”

March crossed her arms. “Sounds like a cosmic love story.”

“Or a curse,” he muttered.

He meant it.

Because it hurt, missing someone you didn’t even know. It made no sense, but she had become a presence an ache under his ribs, a name he didn’t know how to speak.

That night, the dream changed. He was on the Express but not this one. The colors were warmer. The crew felt familiar, yet different. And there she was finally facing him. This time no blur and no haze.

She smiled, soft and sad. Like she knew something he didn’t. Like she’d watched him from afar for a long, long time.

He took a step forward. She held out her hand.

The sound of shattering glass. Light tore across the dream like lightning. Her image cracked, distorted, fell apart.

He screamed her name Except he didn’t know it. He woke up gasping.

He stood in the hallway outside the passenger car now, gripping the rail, heart pounding. The stars outside flickered like they were trying to whisper something back.

“I don’t know who you are,” he murmured, voice rough. “But I think I’m supposed to.”

Though he felt he had loved her once. that love got lost between the stars. But it was finding its way back. He could feel it.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The moment hung between you like a heartbeat suspended in air fragile, trembling, too afraid to fall.

You didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

Because if you did, something would break.

Maybe it was the persona you’d built. Maybe it was the invisible wall that Elio insisted you keep between yourself and the rest of the galaxy. Or maybe… it was the feeling you’d been running from since the day you woke up in Kafka’s care:

The ache of knowing someone you’d never met.

Of longing for something you never had.

Of being seen when you had no memory of who you were supposed to be.

And Caelus saw you.

Not the mask. Not the weapon. You.

He stood there, closer than he should have, amber eyes gentler than any soldier’s had a right to be, and you hated how your resolve cracked around the edges just by looking at him.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said, voice barely above the whine of static in the air. “I just… want to understand.”

Your mouth opened then shut again.

The wind shifted between the broken towers, pulling at your coat. You turned away first. Because if you kept looking at him, you weren’t sure you’d be able to hold your ground.

“I don’t care what you dreamed,” you said finally, trying to sound cold. Detached. “Whatever you think we were… I’m not that girl anymore.”

“I know,” he murmured, and that was somehow worse.

Because he meant it. And he still looked at you like that.

Like he was remembering you, even if you’d forgotten yourself.

Before you could respond, Kafka’s voice crackled in your earpiece.

“Darling. We’ve got what we need. Time to disappear.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose, nodding to nothing. for a second, just before you moved, your hand twitched again reaching out, purely instinct. But then you turned.

You vanished into the fractured skyline, not even a ripple left in your wake. Caelus didn’t follow. He just watched you go, a strange, hollow kind of sorrow nesting in his chest.

“She didn’t try to kill us,” March 7th said flatly.

“Progress,” Dan Heng deadpanned.

Caelus didn’t laugh.

He sat in silence, watching the universe drift past the train’s window. His reflection stared back at him, eyes tired and heart somewhere lightyears behind.

She didn’t remember him.

But her fingers had twitched when she said his name. Like muscle memory. Like muscle memory aching to reach out.

She was the one he’d been dreaming of. The one who didn’t board the Express. The one who was never supposed to walk the path she was on. The one fate had twisted away from him.

Later, after the brief standoff after Kafka led you away with a smile and a smug wave, and after Himeko called the mission a partial success Caelus sat alone in the Express observatory.

He stared out at the stars, but they felt different now.

You were real. And you knew him.

Not just knew of him. You knew him. The way your eyes lingered. The subtle way your fingers twitched when his voice hit the air. The way your name still escaped him but your presence didn’t.

“You okay?” March leaned in from behind, holding a cup of cocoa.

He didn’t turn. Just nodded. “I met her.”

March blinked. “Her?”

“…The one from the dreams.”

Her brows shot up. “Wait, seriously? That’s the girl?”

He nodded again. “She’s with Kafka.”

March made a face. “Of course she is. That explains the cool and mysterious aura coming from your weird head.”

“I don’t think she remembers me fully,” he said softly. “But she said my name.”

“hmmmm this feels kinda crazy,” March said, sitting beside him. “This is like some weird soulmate thing.”

Caelus glanced at her. “Is that even possible?”

She smirked. “With us? Anything’s possible.”

He turned back to the stars.

Somewhere out there, on another ship, or in another world, she had stood beside him. He knew it.

And even if time or fate had pulled them apart he was going to find his way back.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

It was stupid.

Dangerous.

Kafka had already noticed.

“You’ve been requesting missions in Express protected zones a lot lately,” she said one evening, her tone lazy, her gaze razor sharp. “Coincidence?”

You didn’t answer. Just kept cleaning your gear with surgical precision.

“…You saw him again, didn’t you?”

You paused, hand tightening on the cloth.

Kafka smiled like a cat who’d just cornered a bird. “I knew it.”

You didn’t look up. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart, if it were nothing, your hands wouldn’t be shaking.”

They weren’t until she said it.

You shoved the cloth into your bag and stood. “Give me a mission.”

“Where to?”

You hesitated.

“Doesn’t matter,” you lied. “Anywhere near the Express.”

Kafka didn’t tease you. She just tilted her head, watching you like you were a story she already knew the ending to.

“Alright,” she said, voice soft. “Just try not to break his heart too fast.”

You rolled your eyes but your chest twisted. Because you didn’t want to break anything. You just… wanted to see him again.

Even if it was across a battlefield. Even if it was a few glances stolen between chaos. Even if it meant pretending you didn’t feel like the universe was holding its breath every time your paths aligned.

‼️‼️‼️

“Trailblazer, are you sure you need to scout that sector again?” Himeko asked, not unkindly.

“Yes,” Caelus said immediately. “I have a feeling.”

Dan Heng raised a brow. “A feeling.”

“Yeah.”

March grinned. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Caelus didn’t deny it.

He didn’t know what he was expecting maybe another cold stare, another few seconds of standing too close without touching. But every time he caught a whisper of your presence on a planet, his heart pulled like a compass needle snapping to true north.

lately? You’d been showing up a lot. He started waiting on rooftops after missions, lingering longer than necessary. Hoping. Searching.

One time, he swore he caught your silhouette vanishing behind the smoke of a blown power core. Another, he spotted a shimmer in a crowd just a flicker of your coat as you disappeared into a ship.

You never stayed. you were always there.

You crouched at the edge of a ruined dome, watching the Express land below like a ghost too afraid to knock on the door.

Your comm buzzed.

Kafka: “You just gonna stare again, or say hi this time?”

You didn’t answer. Because you didn’t know how to explain it. That this wasn’t love…. at most you don’t know what that word even meant

He felt like It was gravity. He was the center of something you couldn’t name, and every time you stepped close, the past stirred in your bones like a song you once knew.

And still, you stayed. Watching him laugh with March. Watching him glance over his shoulder, like he felt you nearby. Watching him wait.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The stars above the shattered dome flickered like dying embers dim, faraway, forgotten. The observatory was dead, a relic from a time when people still believed the cosmos could be mapped, understood, controlled.

Now, it was just quiet. A perfect place to hide. You didn’t know why you were here. Not really. The coordinates had come through a scrambled data trail supposedly a scouting point for a Hunter op. But Kafka had said nothing. She’d just smiled when she saw the file and said, “Go.”

So you went. You didn’t expect him to be there too. But the moment you stepped through the cracked threshold, you knew. The air changed. Like the world itself paused to take a breath.

And then you saw him.

Caelus stood by the remnants of a collapsed telescope, bathed in soft starlight filtering through the fractured glass above. His coat rustled quietly as he turned.

His eyes widened.

“…You.”

You didn’t move. You should’ve run. Should’ve vanished like you always did. your boots felt rooted to the floor, and your chest was tight with something you didn’t have a name for.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you said, voice low.

“I know,” he replied. “But I hoped you would be.”

That stopped you cold.

“…Why?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending you’re just a dream.”

Your heart stuttered.

He took a slow step forward. You didn’t stop him.

“You keep showing up,” he said, quietly. “And every time, I think maybe it’s just a trick. Just my mind trying to make sense of something it can’t remember. But then I see you. And I know.”

You swallowed hard.

“There’s a reason we remember each other,” he went on. “Even if we don’t know how.”

You looked away. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I don’t have to,” he said. “Because when I see you I feel peace. Like the galaxy makes sense for a second.”

That… hurt. Because you didn’t just feel peace when you saw him. You felt everything else. Hope. Ache. Fear. That sharp, impossible longing like something inside you was trying to claw its way out just to reach him.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

“well that shouldn’t feeling kinda doesn’t apply here,” Caelus said again, gentler.

Silence stretched between you fragile, sacred. Then, softly, he asked, “Can I come closer?”

You nodded.

He stepped toward you, slow and careful, until there was only a breath between you. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then gently, so gently his hand reached out and hovered near yours. Not touching. Just waiting.

And your fingers… trembled.

You didn’t take his hand.

But you didn’t pull away either. It was the closest you’d been. Not physically emotionally. Soulfully. And for the first time since you woke up with no memories, you didn’t feel lost.

You felt… found.

It just hovered there between you, caught in some invisible tension neither of you had the words to sever. Caelus stayed still too, though you could tell he wanted to say something his eyes kept flicking to your expression, like he was trying to read stars in a language he used to know.

Then, very softly, he chuckled.

You blinked.

“What?” you asked warily.

“I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, expression going a little sheepish. “I was trying to think of something poetic to say. You know, something like, ‘Even across galaxies, I’d find you,’ or ‘Your eyes remind me of starlight before a warp jump.’” He paused. “But that would be cringe, right?”

You stared at him.

And then against your own instincts you laughed. It was small, quiet, almost disbelieving, but it escaped you anyway. “That’s so cringe.”

“I knew it!” he grinned, victorious. “See? March would’ve roasted me for it too.”

Your lips twitched. “You really are a dork,” you muttered.

“I prefer charmingly knight super cool amazing, thank you very much,” Caelus said, placing a dramatic hand to his heart. “Besides, you were about two seconds away from touching my hand. I saw the twitch. Don’t lie.”

You rolled your eyes, but something in your chest… eased. He noticed. And that dumb little smile of his softened into something quieter.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said. “I just wanted to see you. Talk.”

You didn’t answer right away. The truth was you didn’t know who you were now. Not completely. But sitting here, with the moonlight dusting your boots and this ridiculous boy talking about bad pickup lines in the middle of a ruined observatory. You didn’t feel like a Stellaron Hunter. You didn’t feel like a traitor or a mistake. You felt… normal. For the first time in forever.

Your fingers inched just slightly toward his. Barely enough to count. But Caelus noticed. He grinned.

“So,” he said, voice light again, “should I keep going with the pickup lines, or have I impressed you enough for one night?”

You exhaled slowly.

“…Let’s just sit.”

He nodded. “I’m good at that. Sitting. Part of my best skills.”

You shook your head, but you didn’t pull away when he finally sat beside you close, not touching.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Caelus couldn’t stop smiling.

It wasn’t his usual half grin or smug little smirk it was a real smile. One of those stupid, giddy ones that made his face hurt and had absolutely no business existing after a trip to a dead observatory.

But here he was. Practically skipping down the corridor of the Express like a guy who’d just gotten a love confession and a puppy all in one day.

He didn’t get what was happening. But he felt it. That weight in his chest that had been following him since the warp it was lighter now. Not gone, but gentler. Like seeing you made the ache less unbearable.

Even if you’d only laughed once. Even if your hand had hovered, not held. Even if you still looked like you were ready to vanish at the first sign of a threat.

It didn’t matter. He’d seen the crack in the mask. He’d seen you.

“Okay, you’re smiling. That’s never a good sign,” a voice called.

Caelus turned just as March 7th leaned dramatically over the back of the lounge couch, a mock suspicious look in her eyes. “Did you get hit on the head, or are you in love?”

“What?” Caelus blinked, then coughed. “Neither!”

“That was the most unconvincing response I’ve ever heard in my life,” March grinned.

“Didn’t even try to lie properly,” Dan Heng muttered from behind his book, not looking up.

“Oh my god.” March gasped and pointed at him. “You’re blushing. Are you blushing?!”

“I am not blushing,” Caelus said, very obviously blushing.

“You totally are!” she squealed. “You went somewhere, didn’t you? You did the secret meeting thing. The ‘forbidden connection across enemy lines’ thing. Like star crossed lovers in a trashy space novel!”

“I just… I ran into her,” Caelus muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “We talked. That’s all.”

March narrowed her eyes. “Define ‘talked.’”

“…There were words.”

“Ooooh. There were feelings,” March declared. “Dan Heng, he’s so doomed.”

Dan Heng sighed without looking up. “I’ll alert the press.”

At the front of the Express, Himeko sipped her coffee until she tilted her head toward Welt with a smirk. “I think the kids are gossiping again.”

Welt glanced up from the terminal, raising an eyebrow. “Should we be concerned?”

“Well, considering our dear Trailblazer seems to be falling for a Stellaron Hunter, I’d say yes,” she said with a knowing smile. “But also… not yet. Let them feel something. They’ve earned it.”

Back near the lounge, Caelus flopped onto the couch beside March and groaned into a pillow.

“I didn’t mean to like her,” he mumbled.

“That’s how it always starts,” March said with faux dramatic flair. “You ‘accidentally’ develop feelings for the mysterious, emotionally complicated girl who may or may not be working for a morally grey space cult.”

“She laughed at one of my dumb jokes,” Caelus admitted, muffled.

March gasped again. “She laughed?! Oh, it’s over for you. You’re done. Pack it up. Go write her name on your locker and doodle hearts in your journal.”

“I don’t have a locker.”

“its a metaphor you stupid hoe,” she said solemnly.

And as the Express continued its course through the stars, the crew kept teasing, bickering, and beneath it all watching over each other. Even if they didn’t say it, they all felt it.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

This sector was too close to the Express’s patrol route, and Kafka had given you a very specific order to avoid unnecessary contact with the crew for your own good, allegedly. But “allegedly” didn’t stop your feet from wandering. And it sure didn’t stop him.

Because Caelus was already there, poking his head around a half crushed console like he was looking for snacks and not violating multiple interdimensional boundaries.

“Psst,” he whispered, ducking behind a pillar like a badly disguised spy.

You stared at him, deadpan. “You followed me.”

“I think the term stumbled across you like fate intended,” he said, peeking out again with a hopeful smile.

You folded your arms. “You almost got spotted by Silver Wolf’s scouts. If I hadn’t looped their surveillance…”

“Okay, so maybe I’m not great at stealth,” Caelus admitted, sheepish. “But I am great at being incredibly charming in the face of mortal peril.”

You opened your mouth to tell him off but then he crouched, balancing on one leg with his arms out like a chicken, and made a dramatic caw noise.

“See? You can’t stay mad at this level of grace.”

You stared. Then pinched the bridge of your nose. And yet… your lips twitched. Damn it.

He grinned wider, clearly catching it. “There it is! The tiniest smile. I knew I could break through that scary, cool Hunter persona.”

“I’m not scary,” you muttered.

“You’re terrifying. In a hot way.”

You rolled your eyes, turning away to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’re a really weird guy.”

“And yet you keep meeting me,” he said, stepping closer now. “Isn’t that funny?”

It wasn’t funny. It was frustrating. It was dangerous. Every second spent with him risked blowing your cover, ruining your mission. Staying away from the people that hindered the stellarons hunters wishes

But every time he smiled at you like that like you were the only real thing left in the galaxy. You forgot what side you were on.

“Caelus…” you started, voice wavering.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do this?” Your eyes locked with his. “Why do you keep chasing me when we’re supposed to be enemies?”

He hesitated, surprised by the weight in your voice.

Then he shrugged, quietly this time. “Because even when I close my eyes, I still see you. And I think… if I stop chasing that, I’ll regret it forever.”

Something in your chest cracked open. The longing. The ache. The static in your blood. It surged all at once.

You didn’t think. Didn’t plan. You just grabbed his collar and kissed him. Hard. The impact startled him his hands flying to steady you, your fingers curled in his jacket like you’d fall apart if you let go. It was clumsy, fierce, desperate.

You felt his breath hitch. Felt his fingers tighten. Though suddenly. The static surged. Your knees gave out and the world tilted. You collapsed into his arms, your consciousness slipping like smoke.

“Whoa! Wait!” Caelus caught you before you hit the ground, wide eyed. “Okay, not how I imagined our first kiss going hey, are you okay? Are you? Oh god, did I break you?!”

He knelt, cradling you gently, brushing hair from your face as your breathing steadied but your eyes stayed shut.

“…You kissed me,” he whispered, stunned.

Then, more softly.

“…Please wake up so I can tell you how i really feel”

A few moments pass and you’re still completely knocked out.

“She’s not waking up. She’s not waking up. She’s not okay okay it’s fine, I’ve definitely… totally… handled something like this before…”

He hadn’t. Caelus was not fine. You were unconscious in his arms, and he had no idea why. He was racing back toward the Express through dimensional shrapnel and twisted corridors like he was running from the universe itself. Every few seconds, he glanced down to make sure you were still breathing.

You were. Shallow, but steady. Thank every star in the sky.

“I mean, you kiss a girl, and she immediately collapses that’s gotta be a record, right?” he muttered, mostly to keep from screaming. “Cool, Caelus. Real smooth. She finally kisses you and the stellaron hunter gets beaten by a kiss. note to tell Dan heng to use that on blade later”

His foot snagged on a floating stone, and he nearly tumbled. He tightened his hold, shielding your head.

“Sorry, sorry gotcha,” he said softly, eyes flicking to your face. “You don’t look hurt. You just… fainted? Did I do something wrong? Was it the hair? Be honest, you hate the hair, don’t you?”

No answer. Just the soft, steady rise and fall of your chest.

The Express came into view. Warm lights. Familiar hum. A tether back to sanity. He bolted inside, panting. “Emergency! Kind of! I mean, not me okay, yes me, but mostly her!”

March’s head whipped up from the couch. “Is that?!”

Dan Heng appeared instantly at the sound of frantic footsteps, and Himeko turned from the navigation console.

“What happened?” she asked sharply, crossing the room. “Isnt she that girl youre always talking about?”

“I I don’t know! I mean, I do, but I don’t she’s the girl from the dimensional fault. She kissed me long story and then she just collapsed.”

“You kissed the enemy?” March asked, voice pitched somewhere between scandalized and amazed. “Oh my, Caelus!”

“She kissed me!” he hissed, glancing down at you. “And then passed out, which is not how kisses usually go right? That’s not normal?”

Welt Yang stepped in, grave and composed as always. “Where exactly did this happen?”

“Fragmented zone, a relay station near the collapsed ruins. She was fine then not. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You made the right choice,” Himeko said gently, already checking your pulse.

“She’s… she’s okay, right?” Caelus asked, voice cracking as he dropped to his knees beside you.

Welt nodded slowly. “Stable vitals. No external trauma. But her energy readings are odd.”

“Odd how?” Caelus asked.

March peeked over Welt’s shoulder. “Like Stellaron odd? Trailblazer odd? Or, like, cute girl with dangerous secrets odd?”

Welt exhaled. “Yes.”

Caelus swallowed hard. He looked at your face again. Still so still.

“Hey,” he murmured, taking your hand carefully. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that. You can’t kiss me and ghost me in the same breath. That’s rude.”

March elbowed Dan Heng. “Yo i love the guy but has he ever been serious”

“I don’t think so,” Dan Heng replied dryly.

“I’m serious,” Caelus said, voice softer now. “You gotta wake up soon. I don’t care who you are. Or what you think you have to be. I just… I want to know you. The real you.”

Your fingers didn’t twitch.

But your heartbeat, quietly, began to quicken. The cabin of the Astral Express felt too quiet. You were still unconscious, resting in the medbay with March standing guard just in case you woke up and decided to, you know, unleash chaos. Dan Heng was nearby, arms crossed, calm but clearly on edge.

And Himeko… was doing something no one expected.

“She’s calling Kafka?” March whispered, wide eyed. “That’s… wow. That’s like dialing a volcano and asking it politely not to erupt.”

“I’m not asking,” Himeko said smoothly, tone neutral as she tapped into the comms. “I’m informing. She’s going to want to know her operative’s alive and on board. I’d prefer that information come from us than from, say… a surveillance drone.”

“Or a giant explosion,” Caelus mumbled from where he slumped against the wall.

March shot him a look. “You really kissed her, huh?”

“She kissed me,” he repeated, quietly now. “And then she collapsed. Not exactly the grand romantic moment I imagined.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘cursed,’” March offered helpfully.

Before he could spiral further, Welt Yang appeared beside him and nodded toward the back car. “Walk with me?”

Caelus didn’t argue. They ended up on the observation deck, stars stretched out endlessly through the glass windows. The silence was nice. Heavy, but nice.

“You’ve been quiet,” Welt said after a while.

“Trying not to panic,” Caelus admitted. “Not doing a great job.”

Welt studied him with the patience of someone who’d seen too many wars and too many versions of the same story. “You’re allowed to panic. But you’re also allowed to hope.”

Caelus leaned his head against the window, watching a comet streak by. “She was… cold. Distant. But when she looked at me, it felt like someone lit up the whole room. Like a puzzle piece finally clicked, even if it didn’t make sense.”

“And the kiss?”

“Unplanned. Very… wow. And then terrifying.”

Welt chuckled quietly. “Feelings can do that. Especially when they come from somewhere deeper than memory.”

“You think she’s really?”

“I think the universe has a way of trying again when it gets something wrong,” Welt said gently. “You two… may have been pulled apart by something beyond your control. That doesn’t mean you can’t find your way back.”

Caelus swallowed the knot in his throat.

“I just what if she wakes up and remembers who she is, and it means she leaves? Or worse, tries to finish what she started?”

“Then you face that moment with the same bravery you faced her now. With heart.”

Caelus looked up at him.

“…You’re good at this.”

Welt smiled, faint but kind. “I’ve had practice.”

The silence stretched between them comfortably this time. Then March’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“Uh, guys? So… Kafka responded. She’s coming. ETA fifteen minutes.”

Caelus stiffened.

Welt simply exhaled. “Well. Time to prepare for company.”

“And by company,” Caelus muttered, “you mean the scariest lady who might murder me for smooching her agent.”

“She might also say ‘thanks,’” Welt mused.

“…That would be a miracle.”

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

She came with the wind. No ship announced her arrival. No screeching engines or blaring alarms warned the crew. Just a sudden, eerie stillness like the Express itself recognized the presence walking its halls and chose to hold its breath.

Caelus stood in the medbay doorway, arms crossed tight against his chest, heart hammering like it still hadn’t caught up to the kiss or the collapse that followed.

You hadn’t stirred. Not once. He didn’t know what terrified him more the silence from your body… or the way he wasnt sure what everything meant

Then she appeared. Kafka stepped through the door like a queen entering her court graceful, confident, her long coat fluttering gently with her stride. Eyes sharp and knowing. Expression unreadable, but tinged with something… fond. Like she’d expected this.

“Well,” she murmured, surveying the scene. “You’re earlier than I thought, Caelus.”

He blinked. “You… expected this?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze fell on you, lying still and pale on the cot, a faint glimmer of light pulsing beneath your skin where your mask once was.

Kafka smiled softly.

She walked closer and crouched beside you, brushing a gloved hand over your forehead in a rare moment of gentleness. “She always did overdo things when emotions were involved. Even across timelines, some things stay the same.”

Caelus stepped forward, jaw tight. “What happened to her?”

Kafka tilted her head. “She remembered you. More than she was supposed to. More than her mind this version of her was ready to accept.”

“What do you mean, ‘this version’?” Caelus asked slowly, dreading the answer.

Kafka looked up at him. “She’s not from here. Not exactly.”

Silence. Dan Heng, March, Welt, and Himeko stood nearby, tension bleeding into the room like fog.

“She’s a splinter,” Kafka continued. “A fracture of someone that once existed in a timeline that was… erased. In that version of the world, she boarded the Express. Just like you. She was one of yours.”

“…Ours?” Caelus echoed.

“You were happy,” Kafka said with a smile. “Close. Devoted. She loved you, Caelus. More than duty, more than fear. Enough to leap across timelines when fate collapsed around her.”

His breath caught. Kafka rose, brushing imaginary dust from her gloves. “Elio found her adrift. Not quite nothing, not quite whole. And I well, I’ve always had a soft spot for lost causes.”

March folded her arms. “So… you knew she didn’t belong with the Stellaron Hunters?”

“She belonged where her heart led her,” Kafka replied coolly. “We never forced her to stay. She chose to remain. But I knew the day would come when the two of you would meet again. Some things are inevitable.”

Himeko narrowed her gaze. “Then why bring her in at all?”

Kafka looked at her. Smiled. “Because sometimes, a storm needs a place to land.”

“…That’s not an answer,” Dan Heng said.

“No,” Kafka replied, unbothered. “It isn’t.”

She turned back toward Caelus then. Her tone gentled. “She found you again. Against all odds. And even without memories, her soul still remembered.”

Caelus swallowed. His voice felt hoarse. “So what now?”

“Now?” Kafka took a step toward him, something unreadable in her eyes. “Now you wait. Be patient. She’s strong. Stubborn. She’ll come back to you.”

Then, a pause deliberate and teasing. She leaned closer. “And be good, Caelus.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Be. Good,” she repeated with a sly smile. “Or I’ll steal her back.”

He flushed. “she came to me, you know.”

Kafka’s grin widened. “Soulmates do that. No matter the odds. No matter the sides.”

He stared at her. She softened. Just a fraction.

“Even when she was one of us,” she said quietly, “she still looked at the stars and dreamed of you. You’d think that kind of devotion would die between timelines, but… it doesn’t.”

Caelus’s chest ached.

“She loved you then,” Kafka whispered. “And if you’re lucky, she’ll love you again.”

Her gaze turned thoughtful.

“Opposing sides don’t mean much to the heart. What matters is how hard you’re willing to love, even when the universe tries to tear you apart.” Then she brushed past him, heading toward the door.

“Wait,” Caelus said. “Are you just going to leave her?”

Kafka smiled over her shoulder. “She’s exactly where she needs to be.” And with that, she was gone. Silence returned. Caelus stood there for a moment, eyes on your still form. Then, quietly, Welt stepped to his side again.

“Well,” he said gently, “you heard the woman.”

Caelus exhaled shakily. “Yeah…”

“She’ll come back.”

Caelus nodded. “Yeah.” And when she does, he thought, I’m not letting go again.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ It starts with light. Soft, golden, and endless. You’re weightless, drifting. Not through space through memory. Through pieces of yourself you didn’t know were missing. At first, the visions are disjointed, blurred at the edges. Like film caught between frames. A laugh. Your own. It’s bright, full of something warm. Something forgotten. You’re standing in the Astral Express kitchen, sleeves rolled up, flour on your cheek. March 7th is beside you, wielding a spoon like a sword. Across the counter, Caelus is dramatically pretending to faint as he eats a cookie you baked.

“It’s so good,” he gasps, flopping over a chair like a dying man. “I’m ascending Himeko, if I die, bury me with ten of these.”

You hit him with a dish towel. “Eat like a normal person.”

“I am! This is how Trailblazers eat. enjoying every second of this. Very cool.” You’re smiling so wide it hurts. The scene melts.

FLASH.

You and Dan Heng are leaning over a terminal together. He’s explaining star coordinates, but your attention keeps drifting. Not because you’re bored but because you’re waiting. Waiting for that familiar, goofy voice behind you. Sure enough.

“You’re cheating on me with star maps again?” Caelus says, mock offended.

“Jealous of numbers?” you tease, turning to him.

“I’m jealous of anything that takes your attention for more than thirty seconds.” Dan Heng clears his throat, but you swear he’s hiding a smile.

FLASH

It’s night. Or what passes for night on the train. You and Caelus are sitting on the edge by the door, legs dangling over the edge. Your heads are tilted toward the stars, shoulders touching.

No words. Just the sound of the universe breathing between you.

“I think I found home,” he whispers.

You blink. Look at him.

He doesn’t turn to you, but his hand finds yours in the dark.

“I think,” he continues, voice quieter now, “it’s not a place. I think it’s a person.”

“did you read that in a romance book?”

“shhhhh, you’re crazy you’re thinking too much. close your eyes and just embrace it”

You squeeze his hand back.

FLASH.

Battle. You’re bleeding. Something had gone wrong on a mission fight with a Fragmentum creature. You’re cornered, dizzy, staggering but then Caelus is there. Always.

He pulls you back against him, shielding your body with his own, teeth gritted, eyes wild with fear.

“I got you,” he pants. “Stay with me, okay? Just don’t go.”

You look up at him.

You smile.

“Like I’d leave you, dummy.”

FLASH.

You’re in the observation car, curled on one of the long benches. The stars are streaming by, casting the room in slow, celestial motion. Caelus walks in with two mugs and stops in his tracks when he sees you. You feign sleep. He sits beside you anyway. Then, softly, with that grin you’ve always hated because it makes your heart ache.

“I don’t know what I did in the past to deserve you,” he says, voice like a secret, “but I’d do it again. A thousand times.” Your heart clenches. Because something inside you remembers.

FLASH.

That ruined city. The fault zone. His face. You hear his voice again.

“I’ve seen you before. In dreams.”

“I think… I loved you, once.”

And for the first time, your consciousness stirs. The dreams fracture. Like mirrors catching too much light. The voice calling you back isn’t Kafka’s. It’s his.

Caelus.

You try to reach. To swim toward the sound. But something holds you back like the universe hasn’t decided if you’re ready to wake. Then, one final whisper reaches you. Not a memory. Not a dream. Just a feeling, laced in the warmth of amber eyes.

“Come back to me.”

You move.

There was no light when you first stirred just warmth. A soft hum beneath you. A scent in the air like metal and tea. And someone breathing. Slow, steady, near. Your eyelids fluttered open, lashes blinking against the low glow of the Astral Express’s medical bay. Everything felt strangely quiet thick, like sound and time had been layered under water. You blinked again. Once. Twice.

Then you saw him.

Slouched in a chair beside the bed, head tucked in his arms, was him. Caelus. He looked so much softer like this. Asleep, or maybe just resting his eyes. Hair slightly mussed, coat slipping off one shoulder, mouth slightly open like he had passed out mid thought. Your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter.

You whispered, “…Caelus?”

His head jerked up so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash. His amber eyes locked onto yours in an instant, and something shattered across his face. He bolted upright, nearly tripping over the chair in his scramble to get to your side.

“Hey hey! You’re awake! You’re actually awake! Not, like, fake half awake. Awake awake.” His hands hovered awkwardly over you, unsure if he was allowed to touch. “I Himeko said it could take a week, or a month, or uh, anyway, it’s been three days, and I’ve been sitting here the whole time and” You reached up and gently touched his wrist.

“I think…” you murmured, voice hoarse but steady, “I think I love you.” He froze like you’d physically unplugged his brain.

“W what?”

Your body ached, your throat still burned, and your thoughts swam like drifting stars but the feeling in your chest was real. Unmistakable. A tether that led back to him, no matter the timeline. You sat up slowly he instantly reached out to help you, like you might fall apart again and when you moved forward to hug him, his arms instinctively opened.

“Waitwaitwait!” He pulled back with sudden panic, palms bracing your shoulders like a human seatbelt. “Are you gonna kiss me again? Because the last time you did that, you passed out in my arms and scared me half to death. Not that it was a bad kiss honestly, it was amazing, I’m still recovering but I don’t want you to, like, die on me again. My heart can’t take it.” You stared at him. Then laughed. Softly. Genuinely.

Even now when he was clearly shaken, clearly not over what happened he was still him. A little weird. A little dramatic. A little too honest. It calmed you. Grounded you. You leaned in again slower this time and pressed your forehead against his.

“I’m not yours,” you said quietly. “Not the one you have ever met

He nodded, eyes dimming slightly. “Yeah. I figured.”

“But you…” You closed your eyes. “You’re not my Caelus either.”

A breath passed between you. And then, you whispered, “But I think… you’re still my home.”

His breath caught. He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you, that chaotic, sincere expression melting into something gentler. Something he hadn’t let himself hope for.

Then, his hand brushed the side of your cheek tentative, reverent. And he smiled.

“…You really know how to knock a guy off his feet, huh?”

You leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’ve been doing it to me since before I even knew your name.”