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#and i rly need to make a good impression

auecho · 30 days

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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.

“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.

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star-girl69 · 3 months

Text

Cherry Blossom

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: headcanons about you and clarisse and your new adopted kid

a/n: idk inspiration strikes randomly but enjoy

Cherry Blossom - Lana Del Rey

warnings: not proofread, probs ooc clarisse but I DONT CARE I DO WHAT I WANT, swearing, mentions of violence and weapons, idk pretty chill, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

clarisse never really felt anything towards kids

sure some of them are cute

she likes her younger siblings, bc she gets a real kick out of being able to teach someone who ACTUALLY has talent

she wants a mini army of ares kids w her skill

she would DESTROY in capture the flag

but then along comes your little sibling ivy

even clarisse admits that that’s a cute kid

and you just LOVE this little baby

she has the same hair color and skin as you and yours just like omg my baby

she comes to camp when she’s like 10

bc her mortal parent has a new family and doesn’t rly want her anymore

she never really talks about it but you know that it hurts her

and then it’s like omg this adorable little baby needs a mom EYE will be her mom

clarisse is so confused as to why you love ivy so much

but you are DETERMINED

clarisse is trying to have a nice little date with you and then you walk over with ivy on your hip

she’s about to like explode

but one day you’re helping ivy get used to holding a sword and clarisse watches you from afar and she’s like OH MY GOD bc you are teaching her WRONG

so she marches over even tho she’s supposed to be doing something

“oh my god y/n y/n please i love you so much but STOP”

“what ☹️☹️”

“you are teaching her wrong just move over again i love you but MOVE OVER”

so then she teaches ivy just like the basic stances and ivy is like GOOD

you’re both impressed

but she just has a natural talent

and then all of a sudden clarisse is like oh yeah so this is my child and i would kill for her

ivy is the most spoiled camper at camp

like she always gets little baubles and things from the hephaestus kids you ask them to make and clarisse threatens them to make

you get her the BIGGEST piece of dessert every day

clarisse is a bit more bad cop tho

she’s not afraid to tell ivy to go do 20 push ups if she does smth wrong

and you’re just like “WHY ARE YOU TORTURING THE PRECIOUS BABY????”

it’s so funny bc you and clarisse will just be like tucking ivy in every night and it’s SO jarring bc clarisse is like “ok my little warrior have sweet dreams” and kissing her forehead

all of your siblings are confused but very happy!!!! ivy deserves loving parents even if they are two teenage girls

ivy is also the most popular and influential 10 year old at camp

like everyone knows her name and everyone knows to give her what she wants

there was this one day when some older camper accidentally bumped into her and bc she’s just a baby and so tiny (☹️❤️❤️) she got KNOCKED to the ground

and you’re like “OH MY GOD MY BABY”

and clarisse is like “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” about to punch the guy and then ivy starts crying bc she skinned her knee and then clarisse is like WHAT

she throws the kid to the ground and she’s like freaking out

overprotective clarisse you can never escape her

so then you’re all like running off the infirmary and ivy is FINE like you and clarisse are just insane

and then one time another younger kid was being mean to ivy and you actually had to hold clarisse back from attacking this 12 year old

ivy definitely picks up her habits from the two of you

someone pisses her off and she will just start attacking them

clarisse is trying so hard not to be proud while you tell ivy that violence is not the answer

but then clarisse is like “OH WHO CARES Y/N THAT WAS SUCH A GREAT KICK AND AN EVEN BETTER PUNCH”

“CLARISSE NO”

the ONLY two people clarisse is affectionate with are you and ivy like ivy is always climbing her like a jungle gym bc clarisse is just so strong and can like do all these crazy things w her

clarisse will literally throw her up into the air really high and catch her

ivy fucking loves it

you have a heart attack

and now they have to do it in secret 💔

you always tuck ivy in together but let’s be real most nights ivy ends up in your bed

and clarisse is all pissed off

so she ends up sneaking into your cabin and your bed every night

like just a huge tangle of limbs and blankets and ivy snores but it’s not that loud and it’s adorable

like the ONE night clarisse didn’t sneak into your bed ivy had a nightmare and you were like oh no way

bc most nights clarisse comes in at like 11pm and you’re already asleep but you know she’s there and you wake up next to her so

but you wake up to comfort ivy and you’re like WHERE THE FUCK IS CLARISSE

and then ivy realizes CLARISSE IS NOT THERE

it’s like some super dramatic scene in a movie you wrap up ivy in a blanket and come into the area cabin and start berating clarisse

“do you just hate us? bc it is ONE THIRTY THREE in the morning and you are NOT in my bed and poor ivy had a nightmare and you WERE NOT THERE”

clarisse is like looking at you like what

half of her siblings are awake and just watching this crying child you’re holding cross her arms and shake her head disapprovingly and clarisse is not even awake yet

“baby idek what you’re saying just come lay down”

“yes but we’re talking about this in the morning”

“…okay”

of course all is forgiven the next morning after a nice sleep

there was this one night you were at the campfire and then ivy just found some random person’s dagger? and she’s like

“y/n!!! clarisse!!! look what i found!!!!”

“what do you have?”

“a knife!!!!”

“NO”

like that one meme y’all know

and then you have to chase her down

clarisse gives her a very blunt sort of dagger thing to play with and ivy is very happy

it’s so weird bc clarisse is like yk being all grumpy and mean and then ivy or you walks around and she’s like AHHHHHH MY LOVES

also when percy shows up he’s so confused

like the scene where she pushes him over you walk over with ivy and then ivy literally JUMPS from your arms to clarisse’s bc she knows she’ll catch her

and then clarisse is like “omg hi my little warrior how is your day?”

“OH MY GOD I THREW A ROCK REALLY HIGH I’M SO STRONG”

you’re like “no seriously it was like 10 feet high”

“omg baby that’s so amazing i’m so proud of you”

then everyone around you is like “oh wow ivy that’s so amazing you are so strong”

bc ivy is just an adorable baby and also bc they don’t want to incur clarisse’s wrath

she don’t PLAY about ivy’s happiness

percy is ????

then clarisse is like “oh isn’t that so funny my 10 year old baby can throw a rock higher than you probably can”

PERCY IS ??????

that’s all i got y’all

in conclusion ivy is just your perfect little angel princess

and you and ivy are the lights of clarisse’s life

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #clarisse and ivy and y/n: the perfect family

643 notes · View notes

itoshi-s · 1 year

Note

Bllk boys ranking though NNN also i lost bc of ur fics

PLSSSS nonnie im so sorry i made u lose !!! 😭 m happy u enjoyed it so much tho ajfhalkf now let me brainrot over how needy the bllk boys would be during the month of november !

ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ɴɴɴ !

ft: rin, sae, bachira, isagi, ryusei, reo, nagi, aiku, chigiri, kunigami, kaiser, & barou !

cw: nsfw (minors -17 dni!), characters are 18+, fem reader, mentions of rough sex, the boys being switchy, edging, mutual masturbation, sex toys, cannabis !

12. rin - doesn't participate ! ─── yep :( as a rinnie stan myself i know it's disappointing LMAO but he just knows it's unhealthy 😭 and he takes care of himself and his body so much, there's no way. cannot be bothered to take part in such challenges anyway,, they were childish to him at 16 yet alone when he's older sfkfal also is so busy, he'd be a fool to let go of any chance to touch you !!

11. bachira - a day ! ─── no. 1 needy baby ! isn't completely against the idea, actually even tells you he might try it out once you mention it - but he truly forgets all about it as soon as he comes come several hours later .. and sees you looking soooo good. pounces on you within seconds <3 also has an impressive refractory period & stamina too ! can keep going for hours on end and stuff u so full.... it just doesn't end ! he cums for the first time so quick and loses the challenge embarrassingly early but he makes it up to you so well <3

more under the cut !

10. barou - three days ! ─── agrees to your pretty pleading eyes - you want the both of you to try it out so that once the month ends, all hell can break loose ! you know shoei so well, how rough he is on the daily - the thought of him going even further, all desperate and frustrated, makes you giddier than ever. it's of course such a dumb idea to him, but since you're asking him so nicely, he might as well agree..... yeah it only lasts the few days bc he's away on a game and just isn't there to see you and touch you :/ as soon as he's through the front door you can nearly scent the pheromones on him. fucks u into the mattress so hard you're scared of how rough he could be after a whole month !

9. nagi - five days ! ─── he's all about the slow and lazy loving and rarely ever initiates something himself ((you're more than happy to take control though bc just think...... blowing him under the desk while he's gaming???? yeah think bout it)) so you're not at all surprised when he mumbles something about taking part in a challenge the guys talked abt in the group chat . nagi can be a menace with how lazy he is sometimes so you have your toys in handy anyway akfjhsa BUT you honestly would've thought he could last longer ! he might not show his desperation all that often or openly but he definitely is needy <3 ruts into you in your sleep not even a week in. as you wake him and try to scold him playfully , he just pulls you closer with a groan . "'s a pain already," he huffs, "help me out?"

8. isagi - a week and a half ! ─── takes it as a joke at first but figures that it might be fun, actually, and tries it out in the end . he's got very good self control too so is curious how well it'll work when it comes to you and his needs !! it's going pretty smoothly considering how tight his practice schedule is before his next match, BUT it all goes down the drain after said game .. comes back absolutely pumped and high on the goals he scored , on the way he absolutely devoured the other team and controlled the whole field - there's no other way to unwind than to take it out on u <3 it's the only way he knows ! is so loud once he finally takes u & makes u praise him so much ! loves to hear he's your best boy n how good he is to u <3 praise kink yoichi goes brr (yes i am still thinking about the thirst moshi ((@/saetoshis)) did !! its canon i confirm)

7. kunigami - two weeks ! ─── he wasn't rly going to take part when he first read about it in the gc but once he mentions it to you and it turns out you're actually excited abt the thought .. he just might take it up akfhf doesn't actually find it all that difficult and only ever realizes that actually you might be the one taking the hit when you openly start begging for him :( comes home to find u on the bed, teary eyed and overstimulated bc it's just been so long , and masturbation isn't all that exciting anymore ever since u have him . please ren, just drop it already. finds the look on ur face so amusing , you're so miffed as if it wasn't your idea in the first place ! quickly wipes the frown off your pretty features and replaces it with crossed eyes and lolled out tongue tho <3

6. reo - two and a half weeks ! ─── you make him do it <3 and the thought is far too thrilling for him to refuse. also...... he's a switch leaning sub anyway so :( does he even have any word in it? no not really. one look from u is all it takes to make him melt ! it drives you insane to see how he just gives a slight whine or a sigh in the mornings, hard cock straining against his boxers but he's such a good boy - of course he listens and doesn't touch himself <3 just gets up and goes on with his day , knowing better. has this haze over his mind and it shows by his glossy eyes or warm hands that start to roam around your body more frequently . you only ever let him drop it when he's nearly in tears ,, it just hurts !!!!! he cannot keep focus on practice or workouts anymore :( the ache in his tummy and boxers too overwhelming. wraps his arms around you from behind as you cook dinner for u two - sturdy chest pressing all against you, hands grabbing at your waist and there's a shaky breath by your ear. please, please i can't take this anymore. you're not that cruel, and end up praising him for being such a good boy for u for the past weeks <3

4. sae - three weeks ! ─── gets annoyed with the way you keep teasing him, even when he comes home from the longest day of practice ever, and thinks that it might actually be the perfect time to teach you a lesson ! tbh sae strikes me as a dom BUT with solid switch tendencies so !! he actually starts to regret his decision like a week and a half in lol. doesn't let it show at all though and keeps his cool,, knowing that it's exactly how to rile you up <3 giving you such humdrum looks it makes you week in the knees. it's until he sees you come out of the shower, a pretty little vibe in hand, cheeks flushed and eyes lidded when he realizes he might not have the upper hand anymore :( knows that he can keep control of his needs if he has to, but it just gets so fucking annoying, even more so when he knows he's the one that came up with it in the first place. is beyond thankful when u unexpectedly finally BEG HIM to just feel him,, and takes you right here in the moment. puts u in a mating press and fucks you silly only to flip you over and make you ride him as the prettiest little sound start to slip out. ngh- yeah, make m'cum, pretty girl. can't think straight no more. ( > ///////////// < ) cums embarrassingly fast like this as well ...... like just a minute or two of you riding him and grabbing at his shoulders or biceps and he's whining so loud. pretty baby is so flustered tho !!!

4. chigiri - three weeks ! ─── PLEASE he's such a tease ! takes up on the challenge when he hears the boys mention it and is kind enough to give you a heads up . is definitelyyyy one of the biggest menaces of them all tho with the way he riles u up so much. knows that the way he brings his hair up into a loose ponytail instantly makes u think of how he does it whenever he's about to eat you out - so he does it right in front of ur eyes, hairtie in his teeth and giving you a sly look ! makes plans with you so that you just have to go to practice with him first,, otherwise you won't make it on time - because he knows how much it turns you on to see him in the zone <3 thinks that he has it all in control until you crawl between his spread legs and give him the prettiest begging eyes, hands already palming at the sturdy muscle of his thighs, threatening to move higher - right where he now feels the dull ache and strain against his shorts. this is unfair, hyo. haven't i been good to you? isn't all that much of a hard dom,, but definitely makes you feel it how it wasn't worth spurring him on :((

3. aiku - three and a half weeks ! ─── same thing that happened with barou,, but this man has much better self control ! it gets him INSANELY hard and fucking insane to think of how you'll be dripping by the very end of this month , pleading him to finally fill you up. doesn't let you touch yourself either, though </3 so that's what it makes it even more fucked up ! he's the one to convince you to it - has to give a little push bc you're just so needy, the thought alone is enough to make your head spin - but knows that you're actually a lil excited yourself when he sees the glint in your eyes ! doesn't try to tease you all that much but pleaseeeeee have u seen this man .. he doesn't even need to try and he gets you SOAKING ! might just bust a nut himself everytime he thinks of how good it'll feel to finally have you once the month's finished. all of his plans go to waste when you end up watching a movie and smoking a blunt together tho ...... it's ridiculous how you're on top of him within SECONDS after the few first hits kjafhaskfh the weed makes you hazy too you end up going for hourssss on end :( in the morning you're smacking him in the head for even giving u the idea to smoke when you both know how horny u two get afterwards ,, maybe it was his unconscious horny self making the decision tho afhakhsaf

1. ryusei - the whole month ! ─── PLSSSS he's so deranged afafalasfa he LOVES edging the both of u. makes sure u know what's about to come days before november even starts lol and makes good use of it,, you don't even have the energy to think about fucking for the first few days of nov when he's railed u so good minutes before midnight hit 😭 is such a tease during the whole month ! would straight up edge you and bring you right up to your high, only to pull away at the very last second and leave you crying so pretty :( is mean about it, but knows it'll be worth it in the end ! looooves mutual masturbation - thinks that he just might fail when he sees u spread out in front of him, panting and moaning so sweetly, BUT ofc he doesn't let neither of you come . scares you with the way he grabs you so rough and fucks you on the literal floor as soon as the date changes to december :0 pls he's so funny i can see him checking the clock both before it starts & ends gives you the absolute best fuck you've ever had your whole life ,, you need to call in sick the next day bc your cervix is so bruised and gives you cramps :(

1. kaiser - the whole month ! ─── does it just to prove a point. you're a brat to him anyway,, so he's sure you can take matters into your own hands for just a month! (it's not like he absolutely adores the iittle attitude of yours and is the one that always spurs you on even further! definitely not ! </3) considering the world cup is coming soon, he's away most of the days anyways, but usually he'd take care of you as soon as he comes back .. this time he only gives you a good night kiss and pulls you close :( no action whatsoever ! as if you didn't exist to him in any sexual form. also doesn't let you touch him even once either - he despises any distractions after all! it makes you want to cry with desperation cause your own touch just isn't enough - it's a whole other experience to have him manhandling u around and making u do the work to please him ! he takes you to the world cup with him as well,, since he doesn't want u to be lonely ((and actually wants u there with him </3)) so you're extremely fucked . seeing him absolutely trashed and exhausted after a match ?? watching from the first row stands as he absolutely demolishes the field ?? he couldn't get any hotter than he is during the games and u know it :( you end up nearly crying when he finally allows you to touch him , thank him thru the tears and he makes you come in like mere minutes :( won't ever admit that this is the hardest he's ever been lmaoo

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marlenesluv · 7 months

Note

i have so many thoughts (ur so talented). any f1 driver x southern gal who is an nhl analyst

Off the Ice. (CS)

feel free to send whatever! i love doing these! and thank you sm🥹 i love this idea, i wanna get more into hockey at some point. but i hope i make sense in this lmaoo. i chose carlos for this one, mainly bc i haven’t written for him yet lol. i hope you enjoy! :)

pairing: carlos sainz x nhl analyst reader

fc: no fc, j pinterest photos

warnings: none!

note: i had to look up what an analyst is lmao. but i got mixed answers. so bear with me😭 also, reader is a tennessee nhl team, the nashville predators, analyst. like, from tennessee and analyzes mostly tennessee games. (if this is wrong, then i’m sorry… :/ )

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: predsnhl, carlossainz55, and 692,024 others

y/n.user: home, hockey, and heart🤎

view comments…

nhl.fanszz: THE THIRD PICTURE???

↳ predatoredits: i’m genuinely so confused by it????

f1updates: carlos….what are you doing here?

↳ nhlpageee: excuse me??? carlos as in formula 1 driver?

↳ f1updates: uhhhuhhhh

yourbsf: ugh, the days i wish i was southern so i could own a farm

↳ y/n.user: good thing you know someone who does💛

↳ yourbsf: omg so true 💛💛

user7: my fav nhl analyst ❤️‍🔥

↳ user3: realllll❤️‍🔥

carlossainzfanpage: CARLOS LIKED🤯🤯🤯

↳ mclarenbabe: BROOOOOOO WHATS GOING ONN

_______________________________________________

liked by: landonorris, y/n.user, and 501,924 others

carlossainz55: i love tennessee 🤎

view comments…

y/nfanpage7: y/n said ‘let’s soft launch’ and carlos rly said ‘mmm what if we don’t?!’

f1updates: this is like….a big deal to me

danielricciardo: i love the south, mate. should have brought me 🤠

↳ carlossainz55: mate. just fly out on your private jet…

↳ danielricciardo: i’ll wait, i don’t wanna disturb your date lollll

user09: daniel knows something we don’t

↳ user4: to be fair, the whole grid probably knows something we don’t

y/neditzzz: you guys don’t even need to launch, we know

pierregasly: hmm, are you really the smooth operator?

↳ carlossainz55: 😐

carlosfppp: THE FIRST PIC🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

↳ f1wags: REAL

_______________________________________________

liked by: carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 701,119 others

tagged: carlossainz55

y/n.user: i was under the impression we were soft launching, but since everyone figured it out…surprise shawtyyy🤠🤫

view comments…

carlossainz55: i actually look good in these

↳ y/n.user: you always look good?!

↳ f1editpage: one of us one of us one of us

carloschiliiii: omg, she’s gonna feed us carlos selfies

↳ carlandofp: and carlos at hockey games 🤭

↳ carloschiliiii: OMG🫣😰🤭

alex_albon: that soft launch didn’t last long

↳ y/n.user: 😶oopsie

user23: i do be eating up their relationship and we only just started 🫠

lewishamilton: carlos has a gf? how did you bag an nhl analyst

↳ carlossainz55: wtf. mean.

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, maxverstappen1, and 559,024 others

tagged: y/n.user

carlossainz55: golf date ☺️💛

view comments…

lilymhe: omggg, y/n golfs!?

↳ y/n.user: yes :)

↳ lilymhe: let’s golf together!! we can let alex and carlos come too i guessss

↳ y/n.user: omg yes pls!! dm me!

↳ alex_albon: lily. you “guess” you’ll let us come with??

↳ carlossainz55: don’t steal her from me, i j got her :((

f1wags: new wag duo??

↳ carloooo: i’m living for it

user9: y/n is soo prettyy🥹

landonorris: more golfing buddies!

↳ y/n.user: yayaaya

fashionposts: the fit?? y/n ATE 👏

user1: my golfing couple frrrr

_______________________________________________

liked by: carlossainz55, danielricciardo, 704,024 others

y/n.user: got invited to one of these grid dinners and the only picture i have is of carlos reading the champagne

view comments…

landonorris: i’ll send you the ones i got

↳ y/n.user: thanks, lan

smoothoperatorrr: y/n is making him hotter

↳ user6: gf air is real!!

lewishamilton: so happy you could make it!!

↳ y/n.user: thx lewis! me too :)

f1wagsss: y/n takes amazing pics of carlos holy shitt

y/nandcarlosfp: get her a .jpg account FR

↳ smoothhoperatorr: so true UGH

carlossainz55: so the only photo you got was of your sexy boyfriend?

↳ y/n.user: it’s really the only photo i need..soooo

↳ carlossainz55: 😉

user9: she’s turned him into an even more shameless flirt AHHHH livingggg

carmenmmundt: i have a photo of you and carlos…i’m sending it

↳ y/n.user: paparazzi who??

↳ carmenmmundt: Y/N😭😭 THANK ME LATER CUZ YOU GUYS LOOK SO GOODDDD

user3: ARE THEY GATE KEEPING THE PHOTO??

↳ y/n.user: …..yes

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz smau #smau #f1 smau #carlos sainz fluff

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astrolavas · 1 year

Note

Who do you think Hunter will stay with at the end of the show? Or who do you want him to stay with

tbh out of all the possible future caretakers of hunter, my primary hope for who will adopt him rn rly is camila. y'know, loved all the different possibilities too but…. camila ❤️❤️❤️ like, just. like. that's his MOMMMM

the vision of him living with camila (and luz and vee), going to hexside (cuz obv there's gonna a portal), and having a woodcarving mentorship under the clawthornes' and some mentorship under darius. and then once in a while occassionally staying over at the owl house.... Y'KNOW? so real.

camila's just too perfect of an option, LIKE. he spent months under her care already, he doesn't have even one bad experience with her that could possibly make him doubt and feel bad abt their relationship (no feeling like he needs to prove himself to gain her respect, no complicated past that'd have to be dealt with, no wondering if the care he's shown is genuine, no previous authority issues, no previous hostility etc etc) like camila's been extremely sweet and caring towards him and nothing else since the very start. it makes me sOO... 🤲😔❤️

the very first MOMENT they interact and hunter kneels in front of her out of respect she warmly tells him to never do it again; makes it clear that he doesn't have to be overly formal with her. just offers her kindness, expecting nothing in return. right away.

camila is probably the first adult ever that hunter associates with only warmth and goodness and whom he feels comfortable with from the start, with whom he doesn't have any past grudges or things they'd need to work out, just.. unconditional love. and justttt just just oughhhghh she called him baby. she's been basically treating him like her son already, and she's SUCH a good and supportive mom, to luz, to vee, to hexsquad. she taught him how to sew. she DIVED into FREEZING WATER at an OLD ABANDONED CEMETERY without a second thought in order to save him. JUST!!!!

him wanting to impress her with the spanish. her touching his shoulder and him showing not even an OUNCE of fear, just smiling and knowing she's not going to hurt him. him taking up interest in camila's and manny's old hobby. camila having experience with dealing with grief.. oof. him being happy living in the human realm (wanting to do things in the demon realm as well but having ties to BOTH worlds). even the fact that the entire noceda family is clearly neurodivergent, just like him. even him being an animal enjoyer and camila having a vet clinic, which- he WOULD LOVE to volunteer there in his free time, like?? COME ON.

AND THIS???? okay......

and we KNOW he WANTS to have a permanent family. it's established at the beginning of the episode when he looks sad as others hang up their family drawings. he wants ppl to care abt him, he wants to have a place to call home, wants to feel safe. he cries (from happiness) when luz calls him family.

and camila cares abt all of these kids so much. she was willing to take vee and hexsquad in JUST LIKE THAT. we can even assume her and manny wanted more kids, like just OUGHHGH she wouldn't even have to think twice before taking hunter in permanently. and she most likely knows hunter doesn't have anyone. she's not going to let him just….. go away on his own after everything is over, or make him move out or sth 💀 she'll want to help him, she'll want him to be safe and cared for.

like the only other possibilities for who else hunter could stay with after the show were: darius, eda/the clawthornes, or joint custody. but imo after... he lived under camila's roof for MONTHS, found a place that he feels safe in.. nocedas are just the best and healthiest option for him. after he'd spent MONTHS feeling happy with camila, i don't think it'd be good for him to be thrust into a completely new environment, and.. there's simply no time for his connection with other adults to be properly fleshed out, or to establish that he'd prefer anyone over nocedas.

like, i feel like sth has to happen with darius as well cuz their arc is unfinished, esp since it's been hinted they've grown closer since ASiAS, and there's a lot they could talk abt now re: grief + darius' mentor... so they HAVE to reunite at least. however, in my opinion at this point of the show there'd be just no time to conclude it as a parent-child bond in a satisfactory way. especially because there would be a LOT they'd have to work through first, considering their very complicated past.

like, all these years in the coven, their relationship pre-ASiaS, how darius treated hunter all these years... we know their relationship has progressed positively since ASiAS (even though mostly in the background/subtext) but still, i feel like it'd definitely take a while until hunter felt truly comfortable while living at darius'. he'd probably worry that it's conditional, could even easily fall back into his old coven mentality/habits, would try to make darius proud no matter what, etc. etc. it wouldn't be the healthiest for him. although eventually he would get comfortable, and that concept also had sm potential, but like the journey to that wouldn't be quick, and it'd have to be an arc on its own too. and, again, there is no time for that. rly cheering for a reunion and a talk, maybe even a mentorship of sorts, but considering hunter already has a place he feels fully comfortable in and ppl who consider him family right now, i feel like him ending in a completely new place after all that wouldn't be his #1 preferred option.

same with eda/the clawthornes tbh; it had sooo much potential and he is technically related to them AND is going to find that out soon, so some kinda interaction/development HAS to happen, and he did say he wants to learn how to carve palismen, so a mentorship may also happen... but as for actual adoption mm i don't think anything can come close to how safe and happy and Good he's felt for those months while under camila's care. again, in the future things COULD develop in such way, but considering we have two episodes until we get a conclusion... mmyeah

so................ yeah.

i just have so so so many thoughts abt hunter finding a family and getting to be a teenager and feeling loved and feeling like he has his own place in the world and being safe and allowed to explore his interests and to be himself........ hunter nocedaaaaa oughhghhh 🤲❤️

#not to mention zeno (hunter's va) choosing 'hunter noceda' as his twitter display name after thanks to them premiered 😭😭 so iconic of him #nicole answers #my toh talk #hunter toh #the owl house #toh analysis #*passes away*#hunter noceda #i'm biting and jumping on walls #made this thread on twitter and ran here when i remembered i have this ask sitting in my inbox #Anonymous

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ubercharge · 2 years

Text

since it’s getting an anime adaptation i’ll write a dungeon meshi rec real quick

dungeon meshi is a fantasy + food manga by ryoko kui following a group of adventurers who delve into a dungeon to save the sister of one of the characters after a dragon fight gone wrong. left without money and supplies, they continue on by subsisting on monster cuisine. it’s a fun premise that becomes deeper and more intricate as the plot progresses

the characters are great. every single one of them feels well-developed, they’re all interesting in their own ways, and their interactions with each other make for heartwarming and hilarious moments. i got super invested in them. the character design is fantastic; every character (major and minor) is distinct in design and personality.

the details about monsters becoming food comes together in a way that not only makes the food enticing, but makes the monsters biologically intriguing. the ways that kui turns iconic monsters into something you can actually imagine eating is impressive. repeatedly i’ve thought “this just makes sense” and it’s so satisfying (no pun intended). a lot of details exist in the manga, separate adventurer’s guide, and on [ kui’s blog ] that show you how much work was put into the worldbuilding & characters.

i rly enjoy the comedy. the way character dynamics play out, assorted visual gags, funny expressions, and general absurdity keep the overall tone a good fun time. it’s balanced out both by serious moments and the action you’d expect in a dungeon where the adventurers need to fight monsters.

i’m also a big fan of the art! it’s beautifully detailed for the characters , monsters, and environments. the delivery of everything whether it’s serious, ominous, action, comedic, or whatever else is so dynamic and a treat to look at

tl;dr: dunmeshi is a great manga so check it out or check out the upcoming anime adaptation by trigger! (there’s a 30s CM for it by trigger you can [ check out here ] if u want to see coloured pictures moving Now)

#kite.txt #i don't think i have anything else to add . or at least i hope i don't #dunmeshi

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bythepen98 · 1 year

Text

Sry if it looks a bit dark bc I also used it as a lighting study. Plus I finished this while exhausted and stressed out of my mind bc fck caffeine and anxiety

Tododeku 💚❤️

Another dancer!Izuku au (although there isn't any actual dancing drawn here)

The context:

In this scene, Izuku is watching a choreography video that he's about to work on (could be casual or he's doing a solo for an event/comp outside of school). Shouto's there to help him practice: in charge of keeping him steady when he's doing his spins and other maneuvers, turning on/off the music, bringing him a towel or water bottle during breaks, cooling him down when everything's finished.

He's an idiot in love who'll do anything Izuku asks of him, their classmates would say.

And they're absolutely right.

Even if Izuku technically doesn't need any help bc he's practiced on his own many times before, there's nothing wrong with having someone so willing to lessen the load AND keeping him company. He's still rly dense though and never wonders why when, at the corner of his eye, he'd notice Shoto staring at him with that dazed [fond] look on his face but flinch away when he looks back.

And the fleeting touches on his waist or back? Lmao he's gotten so used to physical touches over his years dancing with other people that he doesn't think anything of it. Shoto could probably lift him up (making Izuku instinctively wrap his legs around his waist) or dip him down in a suave move -Mina or Kaminari or good ol youtube taught him that one idk- practically touching nose to nose with the guy with the most obvious, besotted look ever and Izuku would just laugh and pat his head indulgently, completely unfazed.

Shoto isn't too disappointed bc he's just happy to be there and support Izuku in his hobbies. However, Class 1-A continues to give him pitying looks anyway the rest of the day/semester/school year while the teachers, excluding a sleeping Aizawa, are amused and constantly take bets on how things are progressing bc they clearly have nothing better to do than watch over student's love lives like it's a particularly long kdrama. All might is ofc ever supportive and rest assured he's always in the front row with Inko and Shoto in every event Izuku performs in. Katsuki, his platonic soulmate/rival at life also makes it a point to attend as many shows as he can but WILL deny when asked even if you can clearly see his deeply impressed scowl all the way from the stage.

Anyway, that's the limit of my imagination at the moment. I tried my best with this one but looking at it again..... yeah definitely needs more improvement. I'll just have to keep practicing then by drawing more Tododeku and my other loved ships :D

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lovinggstar · 4 months

Text

❒ EPISODE FOUR : KUNI?? ★

hidden secrets & shared feelings

masterlist - prev ep - next ep

note :: ' and italics mean thinking, and starfair is a random made-up con i made like 'comiket' and 'anime expo' 😭

"hm?"

"(name)..?" he questioned, fully turning around. "do you know her, scaramouche?" the male with him asks, he has white hair and a streak of red. "ah.." you panicked, scaramouche knew about your gacha gaming addiction since he was your childhood. you had to act fast and quick. "ahaha !! so it really is you, kuni ! it's been so long, you work here too?? it's my first day, what a coincidence !" you spat out line after line to cover anything that he may say. ayaka and the guy-whose-name-you-don't-know looked confused at you both. "oh ! kuni is my childhoos friend from elementary school !" you said, still trying to not blow your cover.

"kuni..?" the two light haired persons queried. scaramouche scoffed. "hm?" you tilted, confused, until you remembered, "OH 'kuni' is a nickname i gave him when we first met as kids since he still used the name 'kunikuzushi scaramouche kabukimono, raiden' until he fully didn't use 'kunikuzushi' or 'kabukimono' from his name completely in middl—" scaramouche quickly covered your mouth and shaked his head. "ahem.. anyway !" you took of his hand on your face, "kuni, if you're free tonight, wanna get drinks and catch up?" you smiled at him. 'right now, i need to make good impressions and make sure it doesn't come out as soon as possible.' "sure." he replied "alright then ! after work" you exclaim.

as you guys both went on doing whatever it was you were doing beforehand. until scaramouche turns around and asks, 'hey (name), are you going to starfair this summer?"

your shoulders tightened up. dead in your tracks.

you didn't know what to do, so, you just decided to ignore his question and quickly walked with ayaka (she was visibly confused but didn't say anything..)

—

note :: rly didnt feel like making scaras name that long but i didnt want anyone saying that his actual og not-a-name is kabukimono so 😓😓

TAGLIST (OPEN !!) :: @featuredtofu @beriiov @thystarsshine @bubiblossom @kaitfae @xiaoxette @feiherp

#☆ star writes . . . !!#wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer smau #wanderer x reader smau #genshin smau #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche modern au #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x reader smau

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sexybabystevie · 1 year

Note

hurt/comfort steve thought (if you’re still accepting them!): he really hates crying in front of ppl so throughout the beginning of your relationship you try to gently remind him it’s ok if he cries in front of you, it’s not a sign of weakness etc. and when something happens that makes him break down in front of you for the first time, he’s like rly shy & embarrassed at first :(

A/n: Oh my gosh this took SO long to answer, I am SO SO sorry about that. Anyways, I enjoyed this thought so much that I decided to pair it with a running idea that I had in my brain lately, so this ended up Steve-Thought-turned-whole-fic, so I hope you enjoy it, lovely!! Once again, thank you for sending this in and partially inspiring this!

His Knight in Shining Armor

Boyfriend!Steve Harrington x Reader

Tags and Warnings: Post Volume 2 Setting, Mentions of Eddie's Death and Max's Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Guilt, Comfort/Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Finally Gets to Cry, Despite the Title Reader's Gender is Ambiguous, Episode: s04e09 "The Piggyback"

Word Count: 5527

Summary: Even as Steve's long-term partner, you've never once seen him cry. In the aftermath of the final battle against Vecna, and in the very hospital room where a barely-living Max Mayfield lies, that changes.

Steve Harrington Masterlist

“Steve!”

Your legs burn as you chase your boyfriend out into the hallway, black Converse tapping softly at the dingy grey tiles beneath you. Everything is a blur – white walls and white coats and white lights that are far too bright and probing at you; it’s all blending together – and the smell of chemical antiseptic gives you a nauseating headache. Still, all of your grievances are floating, fading, flying away at the sight of the man before you.

Steve Harrington is too strong for his own good. A lover, probably one of the most caring people you’ve ever known, and yet he carries so much. The guilt of being Nancy Wheeler’s bullshit for much too long, the awareness of Hawkins’ looming and inevitable doom, the instinct and need to be there to protect you and Robin, to protect the kids – all of these are things that Steve Harrington has placed upon his own back, heaving emotional weights that even a sumo wrestler would struggle to uphold, and yet you had never once seen him cry. Or, rather, he had never once let you see him cry.

You had cried in front of him several times – stress from work and just shitty days in general tearing you down – so it was difficult to imagine just how he was holding himself together. With the thinnest of threads, is what you would assume.

You had always told him that it was okay to be vulnerable, that you would be there to catch him if he ever fell, to hold him during his starless nights, but he was persistent. He shrugged off your offers, not in an unappreciative way, but in a manner that seemed to mean that he wanted you to be under the impression that he was fine. That he didn’t need you to sweep up the broken pieces of him and put them into the dustpan, because he had only ever tried being so defenseless with one other person before, and what had that gotten him? Bullshit…

You never pushed him, hoping with everything in you that he would absorb your words into his heart and come to you when the walls crumbled, but you had a feeling that the first cracks were forming in his foundation when this entire mess with Vecna started.

When you had stepped into Max’s hospital room together, hands interlocked, you almost felt his breathing catch as if you shared the same lungs. His palm stilled against your own, cold and clammy, and he was slinking away from you, back out the door you had barely stepped through to begin with. He was running down the hallway, towards the emergency fire exit at the very end, and you knew that the river was overflowing the dam.

“Steve, please–” you breathlessly call out to him, gaining a few confused glances from patients and visitors nearby, but he’s out the door before the words have fully fallen from your lips. Whether he’s ignoring you in the hopes that you turn away or he somehow just hasn’t heard you yet, you’re unsure.

Regardless, you’re still hot on his heels, your feet hitting the ground impossibly faster. The force of your speed causes them to go numb, nerves firing like you’re stepping on little knives, but you don’t care. You’re too focused on watching Steve’s hazy outline through the blurred windows to really notice. Everything in you hopes that his silhouette doesn’t get smaller – he’s not walking away into the parking lot, he’s not – and you must be really good at manifestations because your wishes somehow ring true. That, or maybe it’s the fact that you know Steve Harrington like the scenic backroads to your parents’ house.

You underestimate just how rapidly the door to the outside is approaching, too caught up in your own worry to think about your physical body. The breath is knocked out of your lungs as you collide with the exit, harsh metal bruising your hipbone as the force of your being sends the door flying open. Wincing and gasping for air, you wobble and step down onto the concrete landing below, eyes scanning for your boyfriend with the intensity of those futuristic pieces of spyware that Joyce Byers said local conspiracy theorist Murray Bauman owned. Maybe your eyes were as powerful as the spyware too, because you easily found Steve’s mop of ruffled-through hair even when it was barely visible over the stairs.

Posture slumped, a man – no, younger; he’s a helpless boy now, a boy who has bravely bitten off far more than he’s able to chew – with shaking shoulders, hollow and yet so unbearably full. His palms shield his face from the world, the only way he can go about holding himself up in this moment, and he caves in on himself, a statue who’s been pushed a little too far over the edge and who is now facing the irreparable consequences. Statues only are made for heroes, how did he end up with one anyway?

You tentatively approach him, walking a little over halfway down the staircase with each move forward feeling like a punch to the gut, and his despondence is like someone has taken your favorite sweater and tried to replace it, but the material isn’t as soft as before and the stitching on the inside isn’t in the same pattern. You stand three steps behind him – his shadow is on your shoelaces – and he says nothing. Three becomes two and two becomes one, and he says nothing. You sit down next to him, a gust of wind and your legs against the cool rock below making you shiver, and again, he says nothing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge that you’re there or that your breathing is still heavy from chasing him, and a pit begins to form in the most sensitive area of your stomach. The tides are receding and the morning skies are red – Steve Harrington is becoming a tsunami.

You, then, say nothing. You’re afraid to reach out to him, afraid he will turn away from your touch like he’s been burned, afraid that you’ll try to mend his heart and it will scurry away from you forever, and you love him. You love him so much that you can’t risk it – the prospect of loving him so much that it drives him away is your very own circle of Hell – so you sit and you say nothing.

Minutes pass, and the air feels like it’s rocky – you’re inhaling pebbles when you breathe. There seems to be a mountain between you – better yet, he’s at the top of the mountain and you’re a traveler without the proper gear to reach him – and you feel as though your hand would have to go through lightyears of space and time to brush upon his shaking arm. The silence doesn’t seem like it will let up, and you’re growing to think that maybe he won’t open up to you at all.

Steve’s position shifts – he buries himself further in his hands, somehow – and that almost gives you the impression that his body isn’t violently shaking. He talks then, moreso brokenly whispers, and if you weren’t right next to him then you might have mistaken it for the whimpering wind.

“I can’t go back in there.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to do next. Your most basic instinct in that moment is to wrap yourself around him like a warm coat, keeping him from the cold of the air and the cruel of the world, but you don’t even settle for resting a palm against his arm. Any move is a push too far when it comes to Steve Harrington and allowing himself to feel for once.

Instead, you pray that he continues on. To your luck, again, he does.

“I know they need me. The kids need me, Robin needs me…” His voice trails off, and he retreats from his hiding place between his hands. He doesn’t turn to you, but it’s a sign of acknowledgement that’s moving in the right direction, nonetheless. “She needs me. Max–” His voice cracks and he tries to cover his tracks by clearing his throat and biting his bottom lip, but you can already see the sheen of unfallen tears on his waterline.

All thoughts of moving too quickly thrown out the window, you shuffle closer and angle yourself so that your knees are inches away from one of his. The warmth from his body fades into yours, intermingles and creates a voluntary bubble of safety around the two of you, and you don’t stop your hand from reaching out and snaking its way down his forearm. A ghost against his skin, leaving goosebumps along your wake, you carefully interlock your fingers with his, and while he’s trembling and resistant at first – stoic – he seems to surrender to himself as his grip hardens against your own, leaving his knuckles white and your hand feeling a little cramped, but you know better than to say anything. Not now.

The reciprocation of his hand to yours settles his internal battle – it’s okay if he keeps going, keeps feeling – and so he finally lets out a long, quivering breath that is reminiscent of the steam above a volcano.

“I’ve already failed her once, and now I’m doing it again.”

The words are what you expected to hear from him, but that doesn’t mean that they make your airways feel any less constricted. Imagining the guilt that he must be carrying – the guilt of losing a friend, a sister, almost a daughter – somehow is more painful than when you collided with the heavy hospital door a few minutes ago.

Everything is suddenly too real. Just days ago you felt like you were on top of the world with your plans to take down Vecna, overconfidence being the sunlight that kept all of you on your toes, and now you were here. Here, with several of your friends gone and one on the verge, skirting the veil between life and death, and you hadn’t really had time to process it all until now. With Steve’s fear and guilt and grief bleeding into you via osmosis of the hand, reality is finally settling in.

It was easier to pretend that none of this was real when you were packing up all of your things to move into Steve’s – all of you had seen the empty ground where Vecna’s gunshot-riddled body should have been, so Steve wasn’t going to have you living in your place alone, even if it meant there was a minuscule chance his parents came back to awkwardly find you there – and it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed when you went to volunteer at Hawkins High, mindlessly going back over the clothes your boyfriend had folded to make sure that they were presentable. The days after the rift was created between Hawkins and its Upside Down counterpart were hazy; it was as if everything before had been some fever dream that all of you had shared, and your schedule was so busy with volunteering and moving that you didn’t have time to fret or to try and tackle what had happened and how that had made you feel.

Everyone had spent those first few nights in sleepless petrification. Joyce hadn’t surprised the group by returning and recovering Hopper yet, and Jonathan and Argyle were still making their way back to Hawkins with El, Will, and Mike. The party was broken, in more ways than one, and so everyone who remained stayed together.

None of you even bothered with packing up night bags or suitcases – truthfully, no one knew when you would all be returning home – and none of you complained when Steve led the rest of you back to his place on foot, ushering you inside the door with a pathetic attempt at a smile. Max had already been transported to the hospital then, and while Lucas had traveled with her initially, they sent him home after she went into emergency surgery. The home he went back to was Steve’s, and those who were inside – Robin, you, Steve, Erica, Dustin, and Nancy – greeted him with heavy embraces and unspoken solemnity. No one spoke at all that night; rather, everyone piled up on extra mattresses and couches in the living room and huddled together as the TV displayed movie after movie. Each time one went off, Steve got up to find another one to put in the VHS.

Once an old helicopter from Russia and a pizza van from California touched Indianian soil, the family reunion had begun. Some victories and losses were shared with one another, but certain topics remained unmentionable. Max. Eddie. Their names were like lava on your tongues, and saying them meant that it was real – Vecna was still out there and he was real, several innocent people had died and had been declared missing since the rift had opened and that was real, and just as Max was finally becoming more forgiving with herself, she was gone again, and that was real too. It was too much all at once, too much for a group of children who had somehow fought for the world and won, even on more than one occasion, and so, however wrong it may have been, you couldn’t dare utter a word.

It was still too soon when Wayne Munson touched his nephew’s missing persons poster at Hawkins High, but Dustin was more brave than anyone else and stepped forward. The rest of you watched with grief-stricken hearts as he stood up for one of his best friends and role models, and while you couldn’t say everything that Dustin did because the words wouldn’t stop getting caught in your throat, everyone else did give Eddie’s poor uncle the reassurance that his nephew was, in fact, innocent, and was, unfortunately, a hero.

It was still too soon when the hospital rang Steve Harrington’s house to let Lucas Sinclair know that Max Mayfield was now allowed to have visitors, but you all piled into Steve’s BMW anyway and rushed to the hospital. Steve broke several traffic violations and there were so many people in his car that you were genuinely shocked you could all fit, but none of that mattered. It was almost as if your chance to see her would be gone if you were even a fraction of a second too late, and none of you were willing to take that chance.

Despite how quickly you all bombarded into the hospital and into Max’s room, your feet never once hit the ground. You were walking on air, somewhere far above the earth that was dreamy and made your head spin, and all of that crashed and burned the second that Max’s mother opened the door.

The severity of your situation was so dark, so desolate that it took Steve Harrington’s hand squeezing the life out of yours and the declarations of exclamatory guilt coming from his lips to get you to finally adjust to how things would have to be from now on. The crushing weight of it all brought bile to your throat, and you subconsciously returned Steve’s death grip on your fingers.

“She relied on me.” You can hear Steve talking, you can still feel him right next to you, but you’re still floating. You’re still trapped in some kind of daze, and his words only make your chest ache with loss. “She relied on me, and I let this… I didn’t do anything to stop it. I promised her I’d make sure she’d be okay. I promised her that she would make it out of this.”

The pain and guilt of Steve’s voice goes right to your gut, making you feel more nauseous than the chemical scent of the hospital ever had, and dizziness overtakes your body despite the fact that you’ve been sitting entirely still.

Even in his current state, your boyfriend takes notice of the way your palms grow more shaky and rigid. By habit, he turns to direct his gaze towards you – always more concerned about anyone other than himself – and you have one small moment of eye-contact, a glistening of pain and anxiety and understanding between the two of you, before a single tear escapes the confines of Steve’s pretty brown eyes and he panics.

His stare widens impossibly further and he’s too quick to turn away, to shut down anything that might follow afterward. His head shoots away, focus lingering on some wilting bushes that are to his left – any scene without you is suddenly of intense interest – and gradually his body shifts away as well, his knees no longer parallel to your own. A gap is left on the concrete stairs between you, and just the sight of it makes you feel colder than you did when the unrelenting wind previously froze you to the bone. The gap doesn’t just freeze your bones, it erodes them too.

Steve takes what you can only assume to be an attempted deep breath, but he seems to be too forceful and instead lets out a strained half-gasp, half-cough. Sniffles and the sound of poorly restrained tears ring throughout you like a church bell, and you snap out of your stupor as your protective nature kicks into overdrive. You want nothing more than to whisper your mantras of love and reassurance to him, a hand snaking up to groundingly, softly, curl the delicate hairs on the back of his neck around your fingertips, but you hesitate. Again.

“You can… uh, go back inside now,” Steve says, so quiet that a ladybug landing on a four leaf clover would have been an explosion in comparison. The only reason you hear him at all is because the breeze carries his voice over to you like one of the gruesomely thoughtful dead mice a beloved pet cat would leave on your doorstep at midnight.

In another situation, you may have laughed out loud at his suggestion, but you know the significance of this moment. You know that things are delicate, as is Steve’s relationship with emotions, so you settle for subtlety, a choice that you’re hoping lets him know that you aren’t trying to be pushy, you aren’t trying to push him to the point of driving him away. Truthfully, the very last thing that you wanted to do was leave him, and you hoped with everything in your soul that he felt the same.

“I could,” you say, voice soft and matching his from before, quiet enough to be spoken between the two of you only – not even the swaying oak tree nearby can hear the words exchanged among you like a sacred secret. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

Your carefully chosen words imply more, other things you wanted to tell him on the tip of your tongue – I know you need me, I want to be here now and always, I want to be the one you go to forever, please let me. You’re all too aware that his previous offer for you to go back inside was more – that it was his way of letting you know that you can go back, back to the way things were before, when he hadn’t been vulnerable like this – and you hope that your answer speaks the same riddles he does, only in reverse.

Steve says nothing, which might be alarming any other time, but he hasn’t made any other covert suggestions about how you should be reacting to this situation, so you take that as the small victory that it is. His shoulders quivering, he still keeps his back to you, clearly not quite ready for facing you head on, and you ever-so-gently bring one of your hands to his back, hoping and praying that it isn’t too much too soon. His walls fall one at a time, castle crumbling brick by brick, and you hope that he’s let his guard down enough to finally let you comfort him. You’ll dig him out of the rubble and debris every damn time; you’ll be his knight in shining armor if he’ll let you.

The muscles in his back tense a little, making you hold your breath for what feels like ages, already expecting him to turn to you, a teary smile on his face as he tells you that he’s fine, he was just being silly, and aren’t you ready to go back inside now? like he’s said in the past. Like when you accidentally stumbled into the bathroom that first night, when he was wiping tears from his eyes in front of his aged, rusting sink. You couldn’t help thinking he was like that sink then, looking broken down and far too old for his true age, and the thought of seeing him like that again is enough to send a cold chill through your chest. Everyone knows what too much rust does to something – it corrodes and eats away at the source until nothing’s left – and it was with cruel irony that the very image of that happening to your ever-loving boyfriend made you feel like something was eating away at you.

You’re so in your head with worry that you barely notice that Steve hasn’t shrugged your hand away. You shake yourself out of your spiraling thoughts, away from the shock that fights for you to freeze up in uncertainty, and decide to test the waters. Your fingers trace small shapes into the material of his yellow sweatshirt like you’ve imagined doing thousands of times before, their movements a bit stiff and awkward but neither of you seem to care. Steve seems to relax into your touch, feeling his body loosen right under your palm in such a way that makes your heart partially melt – both at being capable of being able to do that for him and also because it was you that was calming him down, not someone else.

Even if it was only miniscule, to be the one to provide him a sense of comfort was an honor. Still, though, you don’t plan on moving away until he’s either all cried out or he asks you to back off. While you’d prefer the former, just this moment in itself is proof that you’ve made progress, and you’ll accept any kind of growth at this point, even if it means you don’t get the chance to hold him in your arms like you know he deserves. One step forward may be twenty steps away from that – your perfect fairytale ending where you can finally share the burdens that Steve has been carrying solo for far too long – but you’ll take ninety more days like this as long as Steve’s finally letting himself feel something.

A choked up sob escapes his throat, a noise that simultaneously relieves you and takes a chunk of your heart from your chest and stomps on it. If you really focus on the sound of him crying, on the way his body uneasily shakes, you begin to feel your own eyes prickle with the potential of unshed grief. Your first instinct is to shove it away, to try and be a rock for the utterly drained man next to you, and maybe it’s the exhaustion eating away at you post interdimensional battle – or maybe it’s just the heat of the moment – but, regardless, you let down the barriers and allow teardrops to cascade down your cheeks.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice you’re crying with him until he hears you loudly sniffle, and in his haste to check in on you, he forgets about his emotional hesitancy. His body shifts back towards you, a small sense of warmth crossing over your legs as his knee gently knocks into yours. His eyes scan carefully over your face, his eyelashes wet and clumped together and his eyelids slightly swollen and tinted pink.

“You’re even pretty when you cry,” you blurt out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can even think about having said them, and it takes a second for you to truly understand that you’ve spoken out loud rather than harmlessly thinking it to yourself.

You’re not sure how you expect Steve to react, but what you don’t anticipate is the soft and intrusive blush that begins to creep onto his cheeks. Gaze diverted to the ground, he takes in a long, deep inhale of air before quietly replying with a bashful, “Sorry about that.”

He doesn’t have to explain that, you know he’s talking about his vulnerability with you, and you instantly shake your head at him, the shine of the sun showcasing the half-dried and abandoned trek his tears fell from. With the burning light directly behind him, casting his brown hair a few shades lighter and leaving behind a residual warm yellow glow, he looks like a fallen god.

“Don’t be.” Your hand slinks away from his back and down to where his hand rests upon the concrete, and when you take it into yours, you feel the indents of the rock and gravel below in his palm. “Remember what I said before?”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t have to scold me about it.” The sprinkle of playfulness in his tone takes you by surprise, and you’re relieved to spot the edge of his lips tilted up into the tiniest of smiles. Despite all the horrific events of the past few days, Steve Harrington can still have a smile on his face, and that makes you feel like maybe everything else is going to end up alright.

As abruptly as it was there, however, it’s gone, and your boyfriend’s voice is back to the quiet hoarseness of before.

“It’s just…” He trails off, features scrunched up as he appears to be struggling with words. Luckily for him, you know him better than the flavors of ice cream you had to painstakingly memorize when you were merely coworkers at Scoops Ahoy.

“Hard, I know,” you say, finishing his sentence for him. “But I’m happy you let me in. Even if it was only for a little while.”

Steve shifts to form eye contact with you, his own gaze softened as he drinks in your words, the gentleness of your hand, and everything about you. For the first time in his life, he finds true trust in another person. Your little smile holds a kind of affection that’s almost dizzying, the kind of dedication one only sees in those horribly cheesy romance movies he’ll never admit he likes watching with you, and he feels like being next to you, showing even the tiniest sliver of his pain to you, is like a baby being swaddled into a security blanket.

He stays silent, overwhelmed with his onslaught of adoration for you, and the two of you let the moment pass just like that. Hands entangled, gazes interlocked, and thoughts filled with nothing but one another, the comfortable silence filled with words unspoken but understood between you.

You know better than to bring up his guilty confessions from before. Your conversation has shifted and you’re afraid to backtrack, afraid that doing so might result in him hiding away from you again, so you decide to let it go. Even though the only thing you want to do is relieve his pain, reassure him by telling him that he’s taken on too much – that the best course of action anyone can take for Max is being patient, having hope, and kicking Vecna’s ass – but you let it go for now.

“Thank you.” Steve breaks though the quietude to beam at you, grin still small but never any dimmer, and practically offers his heart to you alongside it. He’s more than certain that you’ll be careful with it, especially after today. He thinks that maybe he can get used to this, to being vulnerable with you and to seeing your pretty smile afterward, and he’s almost looking forward to it. Almost, but not quite.

The way he looks at you, so full of love that it’s more obvious than the answer to some elementary math problem, is nearly enough to bring you to tears again. Never in your life had you imagined finding someone so soft, so genuine and caring for everyone around him, and your chest is beginning to ache as it longs to beat directly next to his.

Consumed by this feeling, you reach out with your free hand and grasp the sleeve of your sweater into fisted fingers before using the plush material to wipe away what’s left of his breakdown. Your motions linger as you shake your sleeve back into its proper place and scoot closer to him, index and middle fingers rising and tracing along his cheekbone. You can’t help but get lost for a moment, sidetracked and taken into another world as you closely examine the smoothness of his skin, the tiny little freckles that are sparsely scattered onto the side of his face. You already knew they were there, of course, but you never get tired of finding them. Sometimes you wish you could thank whoever it was that painted them there.

Steve’s breath is warm against your chin, causing your stare to automatically flicker to his. You’re not surprised when you find that he’s been looking at you all this time, absorbing this memory with you while he can make it, but it still makes your lips upturn nonetheless.

“You ready to head back in there yet?” he asks, voice low and a tad bit teasing as his ego undoubtedly takes a boost from how unintentionally hypnotized he’s made you. “Those shitheads are probably losing their minds right about now. Think we’ve left and they’ve lost their ride home or something.”

His joking tone is laced with worry; you both know that just talking about going in there means your minute of peace is over. You’ll be back into the throes of whatever new hell Hawkins endures next, back to living in uncertainty surrounding the safety of not only yourselves, but also your friends. It was true that people had been dying this whole time, the years being tainted with the blood of those like Barb who never really had a chance, but this was your first real taste of a different kind of loss. A kind of loss that’s more than just being sympathetic or upset for a few days; the kind of loss that’s felt in the absence of people at birthday parties, in the way that sometimes conversation seems normal until there’s a lull that should’ve been where someone else was cracking a joke. It’s the kind of loss that you can’t ignore because it’s felt everywhere, and just the minor glimpse of it that you’ve caught in the past few days has you feeling terrified.

You’d always naively thought that you and your friends were safe, untouchable, too relevant to the status of Hawkins and the world at large to be taken from this world. Eddie and Max had proven your beliefs wrong, and that meant that no one was really safe at all. Vecna could and would strike again, and it was only a matter of time before you’d be walking on eggshells and avoiding stepping on the vines of the Upside Down again.

A flash of yellow and a hand being offered out to you snaps you back into reality. You weren’t even aware Steve had gotten onto his feet and was no longer sitting next to you, no longer tracing his fingers on the delicate skin of the back of your palm, but you don’t get caught up in that.

Instead, you accept your boyfriend’s outstretched hold and let him help you to your feet. Your legs are wobbly, halfway numbed from lack of movement, but Steve’s right there by your side, iron grip on your hand like he’s seconds away from rushing forward to catch you, if necessary. You don’t need it this time – your body comes back to life quite quickly, leaving you with legs again in replacement of the jelly-like limbs you had prior – but something in the gleam of his eyes and the sureness of his hold tells you that he’ll be there to catch you next time and the time after that too.

You give his hand a small squeeze, noticeable enough to act as the okay to start heading back inside, and when he squeezes back, you know that you’ve got one another. Both physically and emotionally. The next move from Vecna is inevitable, but you feel a little more certain about things like this, fingers intertwined and with souls that you chose to be twisted together. When misfortune strikes again, Steve will be there to hold you close, and you’ll be more than willing to do the same for him. You know there’s years of trauma and pain that he hasn’t shown you, hasn’t yet informed you of, and you look forward to the days when he decides to open up. As long as he keeps letting you wipe the residue of his tears away with your sweater sleeves, of course.

#stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things four #stranger things 4 #st #st4 #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #lovely requests #dear anons

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sludgewolf · 10 days

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We need to talk about the lack of "filler" in series that're been released recently

I just watched a video about ATLA and it's filler or lack there of and, they're right, ATLA doesn't have filler episodes as we define "filler episodes" now. Our understanding of filler is closer to what's used for anime that is, non canon episodes that are made so the anime doesn't catch up with the manga. Applying this to western animation (I say animation bc I graduated in it thus a better understanding and I don't really watch many live action series so I don't have much of a say) we ended up with the impression that it means "episodes that don't move the plot forward"

Which, doesn't make sense with Western animation since most of it isn't a adaptation of something else, or with comic adaptations for ex, they're mostly adaptations of various arcs coming together as a single story. Smt very different from the manga to anime adaptation process

Comparing ATLA who positively doesn't have "filler" and X-men 97 who negatively doesn't have "filler" is a good example of what I'm trying to say.

Not all of ATLA episodes move the "learn the elements and defeat the firelord" plot forward and that's good thank fuck not all episodes are rushing ahead to throwing this 12yo we barely know into a battle with a full grown adult who's perpetrating a war against the rest of the world. Instead we actually get to know the characters, we see them traveling from the South to the North Pole instead of spawning where the plot demands, we see Aang adapt to the world post iceberg nap and learn to be the avatar, we see the effect the 100 year war had in this world. And most of all, the more "filler" episodes contributed to the pacing of the series, when binging the series now I still feel like the Gaang traveled across the whole world and didn't just teleport to the plot.

Opposed to X-men 97, don't get me wrong I'm absolutely loving it but the story is always being racing forward at a breakneck speed. They did try to pace it better inter cutting the main plot with Scott, Jean, Madelyne, Wolverine's whole deal and the "LifeDeath " plot, but if there wasn't the weekly wait for the next episode we would not have any time to breathe and digest what happened in the episodes.

I'm still confused on how Madelyne went from trying to have a normal life outside the x-men to being in Genosha's council. Still on Madelyne, I didn't care that they had to part ways with Nathan, ik he's their baby and all that, but as soon as they named the baby Nathan I knew they were throwing that baby to the future to complete the time loop of him being in the original series. And that's because they never got the chance to try to make us care, the writing team couldn't waste time with that since they only had 8 episodes to tell all these stories, the speed that the plot is being taken makes me believe that when writing this season Disney still hadn't signed on the second season and when they did it was too late to rework the script.

This whole thing is reminding me of Hazbin Hotel's pacing problems, analyzing it as if I didn't watch the pilot, we just met the characters and suddenly had to care that they were going to die in six months, we don't really know Charlie other than 1. she's Lucifer's daughter, 2. daddy issues that aren't rly addressed besides jokes, 3. she's with Vaggie (other character we didn't get to know) and 4. she's the owner of the hotel and wants to rehabilitate the sinners. The worst part of it is, we teleported from the start of the season to 6 months later out of nowhere and suddenly we're at the finale with the big boss battle. Of course HuskDust is a more popular ship than Charlie and Vaggie, we never got the chance to see them being together other than in episodes when the characters are being dragged by the plot while Angel and Husk had an episode where we met them and got the time to see them interact without being pushed by the extermination plot

This is exactly why "filler episodes" are important, we should actually know who these characters are before the big fight at the end so we can actually care about what happens to them. X-men 97 may not suffer that much from it but it's because we already knew most of the characters, but we never got to meet this version of Madelyne, see her going out alone to a world that hates her existence, see her morn having been forced to send her baby off to the future and maybe not being able to see him ever again and finally see never see how did she even end up in Genosha.

Or Storm, sure we got a two parter, but how did she get to fuck knows where to meet Forge in that bar, what did she go through during the time she was traveling alone, it's not as if people wouldn't recognize her as a x-men even if she'd left the team, maybe see more of how the relationship between her and Forge developed, cuz I didn't get why she still wants to be with him even after he basically created the tec that was turned into the weapons used to kill mutants, that's smt one can't just forgive, and yes I'd like to see her as she struggles with not having her powers, smt other than she feeling lonely without the wind (this would work even as just a montage with sad music as she travels to the fuckall haunted desert)

On a rly quick note on Invincible I do think they did a good job with their pacing and character development with the time they had, I'd like to have seen a bit more of Rex's development from complete douche to Lizard Leader homemade lobotomy to where we are now, but on the Grayson family whole thing they did an amazing job at showing how they're dealing with the aftermath of season 1, there was just a little jump from Debbie downing a bottle of wine every day to full bug mom mode but I do think she'd step up to it no doubt.

Maybe just some scenes of her still working through s1 trauma and questioning wtf is wrong w Nolan bc from her perspective he just killed hundreds of ppl on Earth, almost killed Mark, fucked off to space and suddenly there's a purple half bug baby living in her house calling her mom. But I don't think that's strictly necessary since there's always fanfiction to bridge this gap and it's just a minor thing that bothered me

TLDR: Filler in western cartoons isn't really filler, these are just episodes to help develop the world or characters without having to rush with the plot and also episodes that help with the pacing of the story, thus showing the passage of time or great distances being crossed without having the characters spawn at the next plot point. And we do need it specially for shows that are intended for binging, such as most shows now. What determines good filler from bad filler here is good writing

#atla #avatar the last airbender #x men 97 #hazbin hotel #invincible #animation discussion #on writing #pls feel free to add to this id love to see other ppls opinions on this #moss thoughts #just had to get this out #i do think in my friend group im the most annoying one when it comes to analyzing the script and how things are executed #im also the only comics nerd so i dont have anyone to talk to so to here it all goes

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whoreadsnowadays · 2 years

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your writing is so scrunkly i love it..... if it weren't for ur blog my bones would be all squishy. but anyways could i request rise!donnie x reader where y/n is a vigilante or minor antagonist of sorts who donnie was previously kinda rivals with but they end up having to begrudgingly team up for one reason or another? they end up working together, kinda bonding, and developing crushes on each other by the end of it. had this concept in mind for a while i think it would be neat

Happy to help keep your bones.. hard? Ig? HAHSHSBD Thank you tho !! It's one thing to be called talented, it's another to be called skrunkly <3 /pos my only wish in life is to be someone's blorbo

And also !! I love this I love this I love this !!! I rly went ham on this one bc I had just so many ideas this is such a cool concept !!!!!!

Put a cut bc its.it's.. rly long...

Warnings; Donnie almost dies, but not in an angst way in a cartoon way dw its brief, also cussing

( Romantic ) Rise ! Donnie x Gender Neutral Reader

Under The Mask

The first time the turtles met you was on a routine pizza run- I MEAN patrol.

You were a wiz with tech, having programmed and built your own high tech high durability battle suit in your home. You didn't have many opportunities to use it, so you often wore it simply to find a rooftop somewhere and do some snooping.

Technical snooping of course.

You had a tendency to hack into high security servers, see if anything interesting was going on, any cool research or data you could take for yourself

Sure it was a little rude but all in the name of advancement.

As luck would have it, you stumbled across Donnie's remote wristband signal, finding it quite a challenge of your ability to hack into it.

Donnie, of course, was notified just a little too late, as you had broken in already, and he had been forced to watch in horror as you STOLE all of his precious research (duplicated beforehand of course, u weren't a monster)

His brothers were incredibly confused as he spent the next week and a half, obsessed with finding out just what NO GOOD CRIMINAL STOLE ALL HIS STUFF!

You, meanwhile, were swimming in new research and blueprints, spending the next week and a half modififying the blueprints you had stumbled upon, adding some of your own personal flair, before adding them to your battle suit happily

Donnie, who had dragged his brothers along with him, found you outside at the end of that week, testing out some of your new additions.

As Donnie stalked up to you, instantly going off on a rant about how SELFISH AND CRUEL AND AWFUL you were, you were incredibly happy he couldn't see your face underneath the suit or you were sure he'd make your life a nightmare

You listened for a few moments, before shrugging and just continuing to test out your suit. If he wanted to scream he could, but you were already bored.

"Oh no no no! You do not get to ignore me in a cool and collected manner! I need you to be as upset as I AM!"

And so, he pulled out his tech bo, and you grinned. Perfect! Real practice.

His brothers groaned and sat on the sidelines, watching the two of you fight.

You both had to admit, the other was incredibly skilled, enough that you were both intimidated and impressed.

That particular fight came to a head when Donnie hit you hard enough to short-circuit the rocket thrusters on your back.

And you were livid.

Those had taken you so long to perfect! A year of real actual research followed by months and months of equations, and almost another year's worth welding and building and circuitry, all down the drain with one swift kick.

You whipped around, grabbing his ankle and throwing him across the rooftop, ignoring his brothers cheers and whoops.

"You ruined my rockets! Those took years to build! And it'll take even longer to fix!" You yelled, voice distorted by the microphone in your mask.

And to your displeasure, he just grinned, lying on his stomach, and looking so smug with himself.

"And now, we're even. Ahaha."

Oh he'd fucking pay for this.

And from that night on, the both of you were set on one upping and destroying the other.

The others always knew when you were around, because Donnie would always gasp overdramatically, and point accusingly at you before screaming, "Gasp! My arch nemesis back again!"

And in return, you'd gasp, distorted by your mask, and point back at him, "My greatest enemy! What are you doing here?!"

And then you'd throw quips back and forth, and inevitably get into a nerd slap fight.

It made great entertainment though, Leo, Mikey and Raph always made sure to keep a popcorn bag on them at all times, just in case you showed up and they got front row seats to the show.

There was always weird tension between the two of you, but the tension got even worse when you fought a giant metal dog thing together

Let me explain.

Donnie had gone out on his own, having tracked down the purple dragons, who he knew were planning on stealing a certain microchip from a nearby tech facility.

Obviously he couldn't let that happen, and he knew his brothers wouldn't actually care, so he went on his own.

Surely he could handle this, he was Donatello for crying ou-

He got his ass handed to him.

So now he was tied up in the corner of the room, watching as they sat there and literally STOLE all his tech!

And just as he was about to try biting his way out of the mechanical binds, who waltzes in but you

"GASP. My greatest rival! What are you doing here?!" He exclaimed, seeing you jump a bit as you turned to see him.

"My arch nemesis! I could ask you the same question!"

The purple dragons looked up at you from Donnie's stolen tech, glancing between you two as you argued back and forth, giving them plenty of time to steal the micro chip and place it into one of their own inventions.

As a loud clanging and banging sounded beside you, you glanced over to the group, freezing as you saw a huge snarling mechanical beast in front of you, powered by the chip you had come to steal for yourself.

"Aw no fair.."

"Not helping!"

You glanced at Donnie, then the beast, before shrugging and rushing past him, ignoring his indignant cries as you used your (new!) spider arms to climb up the wall.

If you couldn't get the chip you'd just have to look around for other useful items.

But as you made it up to the ceiling you watched as the purple dragons celebrated near the door, not paying attention to the shivering and growling monster they had created.

And you saw that it was hovering over Donnie, staring at the shaking turtle with bright led eyes and- Oh my god- oh my god it's gonna actually eat him-!

You jumped down right as it opened it sharp metal jaws, hitting it hard enough that it stumbled back, roaring loud enough to shake the whole building.

You turned quickly, seeing Donnie still shaking a bit behind you.

You quickly cut through the bindings, freezing for a moment as he spoke softly, staring at the blank mask that covered your face.

"You just saved my life.."

"Yeah.. yeah don't mention it, let's just take this thing down.."

He nodded, and you both jumped into action, outsmarting the beast with ease.

Surprisingly, you both made an incredible team, Donnie even had time to grab his gear and get it working for him again.

Though of course, brute strength does have its moments.

The beast bit you, grabbing at your armor and shaking you like a chew toy before throwing you across the room.

You hit head first into a wall, feeling your mask crack and sizzle with the short circuiting wiring.

Donnie was by you quickly, staring up at the monster as he asked if you were alright.

You pulled the mask off quick, throwing it to the side as it smoked, threatening to burst into flames.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." You spoke up, your mask no longer distorting your voice.

Donnie blinked, caught off guard by the difference as he finally glanced over to you,

Oh My Gosh you were attractive.

Donnie felt his face heat up as his limbs threatened to turn into jelly.

Oh My Gosh.

You looked over at him, giving him an odd look, and he realized he could see the emotion on your face now, and HOO BOY that really did him in.

"Donnie you good?"

AHHH FOCUS.

he shook himself out of it, standing up uncomfortably straight as he forcefully looked the other way.

"Yes! Of course my arch nemesis, my greatest foe, mortal enemy even! I'm quite alright!"

You were a bit confused, but nodded anyway, before jumping back into action, hyper aware of the lack of protection to your head.

Luckily it didn't matter in the end, seeing as you quickly defeated the beast, as well as the purple dragons fairly quickly after that.

You looked over the wreckage with your hands on your hips, before looking to Donnie with a sly grin

"If I asked really really nicely would I be able to take that chip from the monster without trouble? As a gift for saving your life?"

Donnie felt his heart skip a beat, but he forced himself to look as cool and bad boyish as possible.

"Unfortunately that chip is incredibly important for the betterment of society, therefore I'll just have to take it for myself. For uhm. Safe keeping."

"Mhm.."

There was a moment of silence, before you rushed forward, ripping the monster apart as you went diving for the chip.

Donnie squawked as he followed in your footsteps, the two of you wrestling over the chip before you finally pulled it out victoriously

"HA! I win!"

And as Donnie stared up at you, he really couldn't find it in him to fight you on this.

"Ugh, fine fine, take it whatever. Just get out of my sight!" He grumbled, ignoring the way his heart fluttered in his chest

"Can do, greatest enemy. I hope you have an awful rest of your day."

"It's night."

"I know!"

And then you were off. Having fixed the rockets on your feet days ago. He knew because you had mentioned it in your last petty fight with him.

He put his head in his hands, groaning loudly before spotting your discarded mask by the wall.

He hesitated, really contemplating his actions before giving in and grabbing the thing, rushing off before he could second guess himself.

Ugh he had a lot to think about.

#i love this sm.. v proud of the stpry in my head #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donatello #rottmnt donatello #Romeo Writes #Under The Mask #Vigilante

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