#honkai fanfic

[inarvii]

₊˚.- NEEDLES AND PINS

Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.

OR

Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.

wc - 3.4k

A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.

Veritas Ratio was a Needle. 

At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds. 

His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way. 

So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit. 

Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does. 

And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature. 

“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”

- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius

A fool. 

Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office. 

That is what you were. That is your nature. 

A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?” 

Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past. 

It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy. 

But could you do such a thing?

You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity. 

He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act. 

He shouldn’t care. 

He doesn’t care. 

He’s over that. 

Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more. 

But who might this fool be? 

Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns. 

Yet, there’s nothing. 

There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.” 

“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”

- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius

Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. The new semester started and students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near. 

“Dr. Ratio.”

It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.  

He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons. 

He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever. 

He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side. 

“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.  

Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him. 

But then he takes his first look at you. 

Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the look of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you. 

“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you. 

“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton. 

Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions. 

You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.” 

He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut. 

“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another. 

“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”

“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs.  His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind. 

“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought. 

A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh.  An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that. 

He picks up the book.  

He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly. 

“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”

He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him. 

“Which is your favorite?”

Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you. 

Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot. 

“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away. 

His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back. 

“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”

- Intelligentsia Guild 

He ignores you. 

That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him. 

So he does just that. 

He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more. 

So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them. 

Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.  

Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.  

He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him. 

As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.  

You made sure not to dirty them. 

“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.” 

- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings” 

“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor. 

You smile at him—book held in hand. 

He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?” 

“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something. 

But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page. 

“You read about me?”

Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly. 

“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.” 

He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “Your quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.” 

His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach. 

“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?” 

He sits there in silence looking at you. 

“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.” 

He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“You’re a fool. Through and through.”

“Is that so?”

“The evidence is clear.”

“Do elaborate, Doctor.” 

 He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.” 

“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours. 

“Your an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.” 

“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him. 

“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.” 

You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.

You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you. 

“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“

“Leave the genius Society,” you finish. 

Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to. 

“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”

He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult. 

You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’ 

“Barely?” You ask. 

“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk. 

You lean over it, your spread ou hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”

Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains. 

You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.” 

A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind. 

He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis. 

“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.” 

“But not from me?” 

Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself. 

“You seem to know a lot about me.” 

He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present. 

“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens. 

He stays silent. 

“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which  is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity. 

If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even. 

Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”

“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.

“What else are fools good for?”

He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”

Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns. 

He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment. There was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive. 

“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?” 

What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively. 

“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves.In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.”

You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”

And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain. 

Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”

He’s in silence. 

He says nothing because he can’t say something. 

You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him. 

He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly. 

Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your face is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”

You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness. 

His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…

You are none of what he had made you out to be…

Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius. 

But a kind soul. 

He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared. 

His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book in his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap. 

For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio. 

Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap. 

Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.   

One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come. 

“THEIR silence was deafening.”

- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank

Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle. 

But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin. 

ty for reading. reblogs are appreciated <3

[auecho]

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

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

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

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

𝓦ORD 𝓒OUNT ֹ ﹒ ୨ৎ 20.7k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ೀ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happiness is temporary. Memories are forever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

ೀ

Jing Yuan is so charming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we go now?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No response.

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

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

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

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

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

Silvie and Bladie…interesting names.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Xuan, stop!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I read, thank you very much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That's not my name—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ೀ

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

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

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

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

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

“Interesting…” He comments. “Yeah…”

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

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

It's like he wants you dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll see you again, though.

ೀ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

“So, tomorrow at…5? Is that cool?”

What? “Huh? Sorry,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

┄┄

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

You’re pretty.

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

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

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

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

Interesting…

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

Right…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock knock knock. That was fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It happens to the best of us.”

┄┄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“T-thank you…” You stutter out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

┄┄

The date could have gone worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ding!

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

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

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

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

no need already planning our next one

whatre u thinking?

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

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

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

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

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

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

im in my pajamas lol so not sexy

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

does it?

mhm

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

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

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

that’s it?

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

You're not sure either. ‘try me’

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

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

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

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

i just get so turned on by you

Oh. He's taking it there.

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

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

He hearts your message and immediately starts typing.

oh rly? what abt now? still wet?’

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

yeah want u so bad

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

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

let me see

Double fuck. Maybe triple. Possibly quadruple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

shit you're so hot baby Attachment: 1 Video

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

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

He sends more texts:

wish it was you are you touching yourself?

No.

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

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

pretend it is me Attachment: 1 Voice Message

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Send.

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

Ding!

fuck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “He probably left earlier.”

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

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

“Night,”

ೀ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

┄┄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He caught you staring, and you caught him.

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

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

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

ohh okay feel better <3

Read.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only you knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ೀ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, but they will. Some more than others.

┄┄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. Tell her what?

As if there's anything to tell…

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

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

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

“Did they help this transformation occur?”

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is it that obvious?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d he do?”

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

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

“How’d you find out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

hey baby, i’m at the party wya

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s not my type of girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What about me do you like?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We didn't do anything yet!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I got you,” he states.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C-can’t! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob, burying your face into her leg.

Your body hasn't recovered from your previous orgasm, still reeling and the added pleasure Blade stacks on doesn't help. You feel like you're going to explode, wailing and drooling all over the place as your hips gain a mind of their own, fucking back against Blade and chasing your release.

“Think you can squirt for us?”

Oh, hell yeah. If there's one thing Blade wants to do for you, it's to ruin anybody else for you. He wants a monopoly over your body — he wants you to know him as your main source of Heaven on Earth and if there’s one way to do that…

In three swift movements, you're flipped back onto your back, legs on his shoulders. He slips back in with ease, wasting no time in pounding your cunt. He’s fiercer, more determined: drawn up with furrowed brows and his bottom lip snatched between his teeth, Blade becomes a different person.

There's more need, more fervor, an insatiable feeling that’s driven by your warm pussy around him and the idea of being the first person to make you squirt—the only person to make you squirt.

Kafka wraps her hand around your throat, squeezing the sides, and watches with pure amusement as your eyes grow foggier and your sounds grow choppier. They're just using your body, pushing you to the very limit and it's working so well.

A new fire has been lit under your ass and you feel alive — you're on top of the world and nothing but a grand finale can bring you down.

“G-got tighter…” Blade grunts out. Kafka turns to you, seeing how even though your eyes and mouth spill over, you still manage to curl your lips into a toothy grin. “Think she likes it,”

“You like this, huh? Being choked out while getting fucked silly?” God, yes. You love it—you’re on cloud nine.

In this position, Blade can fuck you deeper. He’s effectively digging you out, the slight left-leaning curve of his cock hitting your g-spot again and again. Quakes rack through your body again; it’s coming.

They both can tell and it's getting sloppy. Blade is holding back from blowing his load deep in you, and Kafka? Well, Kafka’s happy to play the supporting role - now letting go of your neck and wedging her head between you and Blade.

With her ass in the air, Kafka dives into the perfect arch to let her lips wrap around your clit, taking the neglected bud into her warm mouth with a long moan. The vibrations jolt through your body and you nearly scream out, thrashing above them.

It's too much, your body can't handle it. You start to crumble: your stomach gnarling and tears streaming down your face. “IcantIcantIcant—” Your hands frantically try to push Blade away but to no avail.

His grunts grow more animalistic as he puts all of his body weight into his thrusts, slowing down. He goes harder, making your body jostle with each grind of his hips. His face is knitted in pleasure, his porcelain skin damp with sweat and blemished in a crimson brushing. Kafka abusing your puffy clit with her tongue has you and Blade losing your minds, collectively falling apart.

This is it. This is pure, unadulterated bliss.

White hot heat surges through your body as you shake. Your thighs quiver on Blade’s shoulders, and Kafka can feel the stiffness of your clit. She slithers back to her seated position, her eyes never leaving the passion-filled affair occur.

Words you try to form only come out as broken squeaks and even Blade can't hold back any longer, letting out a string of blissed-out curse words as you clamp around him. The orgasm that begins to pour out of you is paired with a force that’s all but pushing him out.

You sob and he moans out — one last thrust breaking the floodgates. A clear stream shoots from between your legs, spurting at his abs. All the while, his orgasm comes over him, filling you with all his heavy balls had been storing.

You can't even move. Your chests heave for big breaths, unable to catch them.

It’s a high you can't come down from — filled with a surplus of electricity, liquor, and desire. You needed that more than anything, you needed him more than anything.

┄┄

A small yawn leaps from your mouth when your eyes begrudgingly open. What time even is it…?

You swing your arm over behind you in search of the device — but you're instead met with flesh. You're suddenly wide awake, sitting straight up only to realize you're completely naked. You turn to your side and there lays Blade, snoring softly into your pillow.

What the hell happened last night…

You jump out of bed, find something stray to throw on and feel an incredible ache between your legs. Clearly, you had quite the night. You can't concisely remember what happened last night and right now is definitely not the time to rehash your decisions.

You're not completely opposed to doing whatever you did with Blade because…well, he's Blade. He's always been attractive to you, and at least he’s willing to treat you like a person.

You're not going to wake him up so you leave him a note: scribbling your number on a random piece of paper and scurrying out of the room.

You need to find your phone and get some air—“Good morning. Took you a while to get up, huh.”

Kafka sits at the bar, stuffing her mouth with a spoonful of cereal. Does she know that you and Blade…

“Oh, yeah. Hey. Good morning…” you awkwardly puff out. Your voice is hoarse and you cringe at the sound, placing your hands on your chest with concern. “I’m gonna go um…get some food,”

“I made some eggs earlier if you want some—” “—I’m good. I could use the air, anyway.”

Kafka shrugs, turning back to her cereal. You rush out of your apartment in a blur, slamming the door and leaving Kafka in a brief silence.

Moments after you left, Blade emerges from the hallway. “Morning sleepy head. How’d you sleep?” She teases.

He nods, rubbing his eye. He takes a seat next to Kafka, holding up a piece of paper between two fingers. “Woke up to this,”

“The hell is that?” Kafka questions, spinning her spoon around in her bowl.

He flips the paper over, “Her number.”

A smile breaks across her face and she slaps his arm playfully. “Look at you!”

Blade fights off a coy smile, twirling the paper between his fingers. He waited so long, so patiently—and it was all worth it. He would do it again and again. All just to make you his.

[milkywaywrites]

𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚

𝑨𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝑨𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔. 𝑶𝒉, 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆? 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔.

.ೃ࿐𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚡 𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

.ೃ࿐𝚌𝚠: 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 (𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝)

.ೃ࿐𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟼𝟸𝟸

.ೃ࿐ 𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚒𝚡𝚋𝚢! 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚢 𝙸𝚄

As higher in the hierarchy than Aventurine you have a quiet relationship with him. He is playful, but you liked it- you loved it. He is adorable in your eyes, flexing to Topaz and whatnot. But at first, he kinda hesitates when you try to touch him. 

Well, you're higher than him but you never once "stalk" his past, it's more like he didn't let you too. He always knows when you'll open your tabs and start researching. 

To be honest, there are a lot of rumors about your beloved Aventurine, but you try to push that aside and focus on your current relationship instead. 

In your relationship, you never asked what that tattoo meant on his neck. Because he often tries to cover it on his palm. The closest that you've been is when you try to peek when he sleeps. 

You didn't know what the meaning is but, in your language, it looks like ṡ̶̨̛̹̞͉̭̲̳̳͔̿͜l̸̝̳̫͍͒͆â̷̡̙͖̣̯̼̭̯̓͋̅̓̃͝v̸̡̠̦̪̩͉̹̟̥̋̿̾́͜e̵̡̲̤͖̍ so you never want to talk about it. 

But have you ever wondered why his eyes have no light? or Dead Eyes. Despite his charming personality.

"Pretty~ I've brought new clothes~ Guess I just won another gambling" He walked to your room, where you're currently working. You chuckle seeing his actions. 

You walked to him cup his cheek and bop his nose. "Stop gambling, can't you? you adorable" He is kinda blushing a little, but immediately giving you the clothes that he bought. 

It was beautiful. A peach color, his eyes looking at you excitedly. You ran to the bathroom and tried the clothes. As you walked out he was waiting for you. Like a puppy. 

You hugged him "Thank you" Feeling safe in your arms he snuggled to your neck and nodded. 

At nightfall, you look at Aventurine who keeps holding your hand even as he sleeps. Oh, can he be any more adorable? But when you try to lean down beside him. His hand on you tightens. 

"Let me go.." He said in his sleep, a small tears form on the edge of his eyes. Your eyes were wide, trying to caress his cheek slowly while waking him up. 

"Aventurine?" You said softly. His body trembled, and he said in a whisper, tears forming more in his eyes "Don't hurt me, use me as you wish but don't hurt me" 

You wake him up slowly. "Aventurine... hey it's me. calm down" you said softly, but his tears kept flowing down, his body flinching a little. "Don't... please don't..." he said. 

You hug him tight, burying his face on your chest. "It's me... baby. No one will hurt you". You said softly

He slowly wakes up and the tears stain is still visible on his cheek. He hugged you so tight. "don't look at me, it's embarrassing," he said softly, still trembling. 

You sigh and try to pull his chin so he looks at you. "Who taught you to hide something from me? Don't be ashamed if you have something that you are afraid of..." You caress his cheek, looking at his still teary eyes.

"I don't know what is happening in your dream, but remember, if you need someone to hold on to, I will always be here. Not because you're a man that you can't let your heart out, no. I'm your girlfriend, remember? Let everything out... take a deep breath" You softly kiss the tears stain on his cheek. 

He looks at you softly, and tears slowly fall from his cheek. The relieved expression in his eyes is so clear. He soon hugs you tight and thanks you with love. 

That night, you changed his life. You helped him be himself in front of you. 

You are his home.

notes: thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! Sorry if there were any mistakes because English is not my first language. Sent love for Aventurine 💓

[hoyoversenews]

subscribe to my telegram - t.me/AratakaBattleBeetlesItto o((>ω< ))o

[ddote]

things the guy i liked did as HSR Men.

+ GN!Reader x HSR Men / Just fluff :) enjoy!

He often reminds you through message that when you need company, don’t be afraid to reach out to him and he’ll be there. And when you do, he never once denied you and only does when he’s away and can't actually come to accompany you.

⁃ Gepard , Sampo , Dan Heng , Welt

Wants you to be near around him at all times. He’d invite you to come and attend if there’s an event, or will beckon/drag you somewhere with him to check out he thinks is interesting or just wants to show you something. And when you're not there, he will message you that night, telling you that he wishes you were there with him and he misses you :(.

- Jing Yuan , Blade , Sampo , Gepard

He doesn't mind when you ask to carry your things. though one time, he kept asking you if you need help carrying your bag. he, without a word, grabbed your bag out of your hand, Even after u told him i'm fine and can carry it numerous times.

- Jing Yuan , Dan Heng , Gepard , Welt

You like to offer him a candy when you have too many with you and he’d accept it every time, even asking for more if he has the chance to. sometimes he will be the one to initiate and ask you if you have any candies with you. It has you stocking candies in your bag or wallet, in hopes he’d ask again.

- Luocha , Jing Yuan , Sampo

Likes to make you jealous by telling you the girl just passed by looks really beautiful, or someone from the past messaged him recently—proceeding to make eye contact with you hoping he’d see the jealousy on your face, Laughs and gets disappointed when you don't.

⁃ Sampo , Jing Yuan

After the confession, you both found out that you like each other. The night after that, he asked you if the things you said during the confession is true, you chuckled and told him it’s true. He seemed to space out and out of nowhere whispered “ i thought i was just dreaming. “

- Gepard , Dan Heng , Sampo , Blade , Welt

will out of nowhere rant to you about random stuffs, like how a group of guys threatened him and his friends and how his friends got into a fight recently. He would play games with you or whatever u two would like to do some things together while closely sitting or standing next to you ( to the point your shoulders would touch or how both of you are squished to each other and yet neither of you did anything to make space ). Leaving other people suspicious of you two but many chose to not say anything, a few though reached out to you to confirm if there’s anything between you two.

⁃ Dan Heng , Blade , Jing Yuan , Sampo

He’d stare at you while you pretend to not notice him, but when you do catch him in the act, he won't look away and will only stare at you for more.

⁃ Dang Heng , Jing Yuan , Sampo

Once described you to his friend when asked who he likes currently, he tells them while making eye contact with you with a subtle smirk on his lips. You look away from the eye contact, flustered from the whole situation he puts you in. His friend seems to not take a hint who it is, even though it was obvious by the way he almost spelled your whole first name. ( and when he was also ask if that person is cute, before he replies, he looks at you once again and goes " they're really cute. " )

⁃ Jing Yuan , Sampo , Blade ,

After he heard that you're moving to a new place from someone, he made sure to ask if it's true and when you told him the truth, he asked another question; " are you gonna come back? " in which you stuttered in response since you weren't expecting that kind of question from him.

Few days before you left, he kept messaging you that he will miss you and it's sad of the fact that he won't have like you beside him anymore.

⁃ Jing Yuan , Gepard , Dang Heng , Welt, Loucha , Sampo

After you made a change in your hairstyle, you notice him staring at you the whole night you and your friends were out. When your friends asked him if you looked pretty tonight, he stuttered in response and nodded. It felt weird that he didn't say anything to you but you assume he's just having a different night than usual. He seems to be taken aback when you waved goodbye to him as your route on the way back home is different from him, he muttered a " bye " in return.

- Blade , Dan Heng , Gepard ,

[starhrtz]

pairing: Danheng x fem!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, friends to lovers

summary: you starting falling in love with a cafe's barista and is absolutely clueless on what to do, but your friends should be able to help you... Right?

characters: dan heng, fem!reader, astral express crew, silverwolf, kafka, blade

profiles

01 — pretty people

02 — astral family

table of contents

01 — New Cafe

02 — Main Character Era

03 — creepy much

tag list (CLOSED)

@astolary @artsycanongoer @baby-lisuga @lawlesshedgehog @sakiimeo @liminalimmortal @lunavixia @eunchaeluvr @microphobicidjits @captivq @thelonelyarchon @karma-gisa @ilocqua @whoskyatto @venyan @arraxthatsonjah @serenareiss @qwnelisa @sentieence @yohoo-tehee @childemoment @venyan @arraxthatsonjah @qtange @edgarlovebot @unknown-kitsxne @countessqin @phoenix-eclipses @runassimp @aludicpoet @mirophobic @nogenderbee @moretinyideas @tsukishiro-yue2402 @tkooooop @certaindreampost @knrejj @reverse-iak @fanficreaderyn @n8mareee @kenma-izhu @t0x1cw4ste @kiwidoves @sunsethw4 @r4yyyyy @amyena @elijahcrevan @scarletttcroww @boomie-123

bolded tags means i cant tag you :(

[theveesbf]

𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒 ⊹👾 It's a total freak zone! ₊ ◌ ۪ ࣪

✮ notes -> hi everyone! this was the second most voted on the polls and I really wanted to try out writing for her so here it is! <3

★ warnings -> possibly ooc silverwolf

✮ content -> dating headcanons with silverwolf. implied fem reader

︰⌗1₊˚⋆ 👾︰confession ꒷꒦˚｡

☆ SilverWolf never thought about falling in love with someone before, so when she realized her feelings for you it was a big shock for her.

☆ I can imagine her trying to brush it off at first, but the more she spent time with you, the more SilverWolf fell for you.

☆ So one day, SilverWolf randomly confessed to you, as if it's just another Tuesday, and the face you made already made it worth it.

︰⌗2₊˚⋆ 👾︰affection ꒷꒦˚｡

☆ If you want SilverWolf's attention on you, you're going to have to confiscate her video games because she's going to be more focused on them.

☆ But if you're satisfied with just half of her attention, than she's more than glad to just put an arm around your shoulders as she does something else.

☆ SilverWolf often shows you a lot of her favorite games. Take it as a marriage proposal because if she's taking her time to even teach you how to play them, she's not joking with the relationship.

︰⌗3₊˚⋆ 👾︰feelings ꒷꒦˚｡

☆ SilverWolf is not going to tell you out loud a lot of times that she loves you, so whenever she does she's in a really good mood.

☆ She can be very jealous about you when she isn't in her best days, so you better avoid trying to piss her off by being too sweet with strangers.

☆ If you insist, SilverWolf might tell you some good qualities about you. Along with bad ones too.

︰⌗4₊˚⋆ 👾︰random ꒷꒦˚｡

☆ Imagine if her little bow that is on her head actually moves according to her emotions, so SilverWolf can't really hide how she feels to you because you can just look at her bow.

☆ If there's one thing she likes, is hearing you say good things about her. Not even to her face, maybe just you saying to someone else and she accidentally hears it, makes her so happy!

☆ If you don't say anything, SilverWolf is going to stay up late playing games. So it's better that her girlfriend can help her go to sleep with a bit of convincing with cuddles and kisses.

[aakaneeee]

𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠, who always gets so so so so embarassed after you give him any kind of kiss. He just absolutely melts in your touch and he hates how much he loves being so close to you.

[manias-wordcount]

Without Her (Kafka)

Kinktober 2023 Day Sixteen: Bondage

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

“Wake up, little one~”

  Sometimes, she’ll leave you like this for hours.

  On her nice, big bed- all lost and alone and defenseless. Just a nice, neat present for her to enjoy as soon as she was done with whatever business she was running off to attend to. 

A pretty silk tie dripped in black will be bound tight around your wrists as it keeps your hands perfectly still behind your back. She’ll even leave you completely bare of all clothing if you're lucky. Giving your body some relief from the pent feelings that start to gather and gather whenever she leaves you alone. If you have enough sense and balance, you be able to find a corner or an edge or even a pillow to hump against long enough to keep you teetering between unbearably frustrated and so, so good.

  Of course, whatever wet spot you left behind on her furniture that she’s letting your filthy, filthy body pleasure itself with will be yours to clean and lick up by the time she comes back to relieve you of this torture. But if she’s feeling extra merciful, she’ll come in and take care of you before anything else is said and done. 

  But this isn’t one of those times.

  “Aww? Did someone miss me?”

  You huff, but still lift your head and roll over to better see your mistress as she speaks to you. The tone of her voice and the way she coos at you only makes the pout on your face grow a tiny bit more as you slowly try to blink the sleep away from your eyes. Almost out of instinct, you find yourself tugging at your restraints. You barely move more than a quick shift of your shoulders- something that you realized she took note of very quickly before letting her gaze fall back down to someplace lower than your eye line. 

  It takes you a little longer than expected to catch on. You’re still a little bit too sleepy from being woken up from the nap you were taking. After all, there’s very little someone in your position can do. Hands still tied behind their back. Wearing nothing but a thin cotton t-shirt and a simple pair of underwear that makes it extremely hard to get yourself off no matter how hard you try. No matter how badly you want it. All no source of entertainment for what must have been hours all alone. 

  And yet, she doesn’t come in with a warm smile and kind eyes as she reaches for your binds, about to untie you and free you from your prison. She doesn’t come in with apologies and comforting phrases of praise for being so, so good for her while she wasn’t here and was being so fucking unfair to little ole’ you.

  Instead, her gaze trains itself on the damp stain in the middle of your underwear. Just wet enough to catch her eye. Just dry enough to make you forget how needy your body was in the first place. Your face warms at the realization. But you know what to do. You know what to say. Because who are you without touch? Who are you without love? Who are you without her?

  “Y-yes…yes, Miss Kafka.”

  Alone. So, very alone.

  “Good,” She murmurs absently at you as she leans a little more into your face and reaches out. It’s shameless, you know. But you can’t help but whine as your mind jumps to the possibility of her reaching out to slip her hands beneath your clothes and touch and tease all across your feverish skin. It gets you excited. It gets you squirming in place, already wriggling your way up to sit up for her- nice and proper. And so your mouth parts as a plea starts to form on your lips. But before you can even do anything. Before you can even beg her not to, she takes it away. She takes it all away with a simple message. “It’s just too bad that I have to leave you here again, isn’t it?”

  Your face falls. Your heart stops. And your world shatters.

  “W-what-?”

  “I just came to check on my little one before I went back out,” She tells you gently as she cups your cheek. The gesture is kind enough. But you can’t bring yourself to learn into her touch. You can’t bring yourself to trust her not to hurt you more in this moment than she already has. But you’re hers. You’re hers to play with. Hers to toy with. Hers, hers, hers. “But you understand, don’t you?”

  “But, I’ve been waiting for so-”

  “Right, little one?”

  Her attitude changes. Shifts into one that shows you how unappreciative she is of your refusal to go out in the night quietly. But you can’t help it. You just can’t. Your pout has long since been replaced with the stunning look of your desperation as you start to shift in place. You’re no longer lying down on the bed with sleepy expressions and drool pooling just past your lips as you nap and nap and nap. No, you’re sitting up on your knees. You’re grinding your body into yourself despite knowing how little it does for you. And you damn near whimpering at the fact she’s leaving you. Again. 

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  And like this.

  “Good,” She repeats, and the change in her eyes really shows you that she means it. It’s good. That you’re good. So you don’t even whimper or whine when the hand that holds your cheek instead chooses to press itself dumb against your bottom lip and force it to open. You just do your best to lick at and suck on the two fingers that slip into your warm, open, and inviting mouth. You try your best to stay still. You try your best to stay quiet. You try your best to stay good. Because maybe if you’re still and quiet and good, she’ll loosen the knot of the silk tie around your wrists. Or better yet… “You’re always so good for me, aren’t you, little one?”

  Maybe she’ll take care of your needy, lonely body.

  “Yes ma’am”

  Before you find out how to do it properly without her.

[kzzeyno]

•blade x reader•

•warning: controlling/demanding/degrading/unprotected sex•

•no minors allowed!•

•enjoy!•

••••••

You walk into the room and spot Kafka and Silver Wolf talking to Blade. You didn’t want to interrupt them so you sit in the corner and patiently wait for them to be done. Not long, Kafka spots you and wraps things up. She grabs Silver Wolf and drags her out of the room, giving you and Blade some privacy.

“You finally showed up.”

You give him a slight nod and walked over to him. But he stops you by putting his finger up.

“I never said you could come over here. Are you wearing what i told you wear?”

You nod your head again and slowly undress to show him your revealing lingerie underneath your clothing. He licked his lips in pleasure as his eyes trail your entire body.

“Come here.”

You walk over towards him and he instructs you to sit on his lap. You spread your leg and your hole sat perfectly on his dick. It felt good just to feel it but you wanted him. You wanted him bad. His hands start to trail all on your body. He grabs your ass and your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

You only shook your head and focused on him. In the rear view of your eyes, he unbuckled his belt and zipped down his pants. He puts your hand on his dick.

“Stroke it for me my slut.”

You do as he says, stroking his dick up and down. You still make eye contact with him while doing so. He leans his head back in pleasure and moans. You wanted to look so bad. You wanted to shove his dick in your hole already and feel the sensation of his throbbing dick. You could tell he was about to cum and you wanted to watch. As his head was back, you quickly peek down and noticed him releasing some of his cum on your face. You open wide to get some in your mouth but Blade grabs your face and brings it close to him. Noses were touching.

“What did I tell you huh? I said focus on me not my dick you slut.”

“I-I’m sorry…please let me lick if off. I beg you.”

“Oh really? Does my perfect whore want to lick my semen off of me? Huh?”

“Yes, pretty please…”

He kisses you as his hand goes down and squeezes your neck. He goes lightly and then tightens his grip the nastier the kiss becomes. You moan within the kiss. He finally lets go and puts his finger inside of you. You let out a loud moan, arching your back.

“You like that huh?”

He picks up the pace and inserts two more fingers inside of you. Your moans become louder and louder. Blade covers your mouth and lifts you up. All of a sudden, you feel pressure down there as he shoves his dick inside you. Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you start to tear up.

“Why lick my cum off when you can have it inside of you? Wouldn’t that be better my slut?”

You couldn’t answer him. You were too focused on his throbbing dick inside of you. You both moan in pleasure as he brings your body closer to him.

“We cum at the same time…ugh..you..ngh..you got that?”

With his hand still over your mouth, you nod and felt him cum inside of you. And with that, you also release. He takes one finger and flicks your cum on it. He takes a taste and says,

“Taste good, I’m sure you have more for me. I’m gonna fuck you until you’re completely drained. How ‘bout it?…my slut.”

[thenovelartist]

The Collector - Honkai: Star Rail fanfiction

This game has me in a vicegrip. And I, the chronic shipper, have latched onto DanStelle. So... here we go. A "short" 8.7k (haha) one-shot.

It all started with a dumpster.

Dan Heng would give Stelle the benefit of the doubt in this case. She was a girl who, for all they knew, had only just entered the world via way of a stellaron inside of her. So it wasn’t unusual for her to be curious about things.

It just momentarily caught him off-guard that one of those things would be snooping through the trash.

Well, he supposed once was harmless enough for a girl in her situation. He’d warn her against it later.

(Not that she would listen, to him or March.)

~~~

Next it was papers. Before Dan Heng realized it, Stelle had amassed quite a collection of reading materials ranging from letters to instructions to random bits of fiction. She seemed quite proud of herself for these things, holding onto them with a small smile.

“Are you going to read those?” he quietly inquired after he’d caught her taking a tattered guide book off a crate.

She simply shrugged as she flipped through the pages with a proud smile.

He wasn’t sure how to take that answer.

~~~

It finally hit him after the Belobog debacle was over. Actually, it wouldn’t have hit him so hard if Himeko hadn’t forced him to go grab March and Stelle from their respective rooms for breakfast, a task he’d been less than thrilled with at the time.

After waking March, Dan Heng headed to Stelle’s room, only for her not to answer no matter how many times he knocked.

“Just open the door,” March groaned, having emerged from her own room. “She’s been staying up late lately.”

“Do you know why?” Dan Heng asked.

March just shrugged.

“Then you do it,” Dan Heng said, beginning to walk away.

“I gotta go to the bathroom!” she protested, already skipping away. “You do it; it’ll be fine.”

With a sigh, Dan Heng watched March disappear before turning back to Stelle’s door. Although hesitant, he did push the door open, sticking his head inside to see Stelle fast asleep on the futon of her room.

“Stelle,” he called out.

No answer.

Just as he was debating whether or not just to leave the clearly tired girl alone to sleep, he caught sight of her room, making note of the stack of papers and booklets that were sitting against a wall. To the left of that nicely organized pile was a much smaller pile of records she had managed to find. Her only impressive finds in Dan Heng’s opinion. On the opposite side of the paper pile was an odd assortment of objects that she had found while searching through the trash. Or through boxes. Or random suitcases.

But that was it.

His brow furrowed as he realized that, in terms of physical possessions, that small pile of pilfered objects was all she owned. All she had coming into the world were the clothes on her back, and even those were folded up carefully by her bedside. What she was wearing now was a nightgown that Dan Heng knew she had borrowed from March.

His eyes narrowed on the objects carefully arranged in the corner of her room, new questions coming to mind. Was she collecting those objects because she had nothing else? While he was not one to like collecting possessions, he knew March loved her clutter. Was Stelle the same?

The sound of shifting sheets brought him back to reality. However, he realized Stelle had still not woken up and was simply snuggling her futon blanket closer.

He sighed. He could muse over her empty room later. He had a task given to him by Himeko to accomplish.

But before that…

He looked at her one pair of clothes laying folded by her head. When was the last time those were washed?

With a shake of his head, he left Stelle’s room with the intent of going to March and telling her to give Stelle some clothes to borrow, but she wasn’t in her room. Meaning she was still in the bathroom.

Did she get distracted by her phone again?

Rather than waiting around for whenever March decided to reappear, Dan Heng headed into his room, shuffling through his things for something that would fit Stelle so that her clothes could be washed. That’s when he found an old outfit that had been handed down to him when he had had few possessions: a standard-issue Herta space station uniform. It would do.

Heading back to Stelle’s room, he set the folded shirt and pants next to the bedside of the still slumbering girl.

“Stelle.” He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She stirred at that.

“Stelle, wake up.”

Finally, her eyes blearily cracked open. “Dan Heng?”

“Himeko asked me to wake you for breakfast.”

With a groan, she buried her face back in her pillow.

“I have a spare change of clothes for you,” he commented. “So I can wash yours.”

She froze momentarily before blearily looking up from her pillow to see the stack of clothes he had brought. “Huh?”

“When was the last time yours were washed?”

“Donno,” she groused, voice still tinged with sleep.

He huffed, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he grabbed her clothes. “Don’t fall back asleep.”

Plopping her head back down onto the pillow, she groaned. “Fine.”

“Or I’m sending March to get you.”

“I can deal with her.”

“Pom-pom, then.”

“You make mean threats.”

Fighting back his smile, he headed out the door.

“Thank you.”

He paused, realizing she was thanking him for the change of clothes. “You’re welcome. You can keep them if they fit. March shrunk them on accident the last time she offered to do everyone’s laundry. Which is fine; they were emergency clothes, anyway.”

He noticed how she finally picked her head up off the pillow, reaching out a hand to examine the new clothes before her. “Still, thanks.”

With a nod, he slipped out the door.

~~~

The Xianzhou ship was no different than Belobog, Dan Heng soon realized. That is, in the way that Stelle continued her habit of rifling through everything she could and collecting anything she found interesting.

“Was she like this in Belobog?” Mr. Yang quietly asked Dan Heng. “That is to say, should I be worried?”

Dan Heng shook his head. “She’s fine. She won’t stop even if you say so.”

Mr. Yang hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s harmless enough. Here I thought she’d be more like March and gawk over things in store windows. Or maybe be like Himeko and be more subtle about it. This was… unexpected.”

That’s when Dan Heng recalled the empty state of Stelle’s room. “I think it’s not incorrect to assume her to be like March. She seems to like collecting things but doesn’t understand how people normally acquire them. And considering she came to us with only the clothes on her back and a baseball bat, she might do this because she wants things of her own.”

Mr. Yang hummed, lips pursed as he mulled over his companion’s words. “That is an entirely reasonable hypothesis. On that subject, I do suppose finding her some changes of clothes would be a necessity.”

“She would need a wardrobe, as well,” Dan Heng continued. “And since I doubt she will give up her scavenging habit any time soon, some shelves for her things.”

“A shelving unit seems more appropriate in her case,” Mr. Yang continued. “At this rate, she will amass quite a—” Mr. Yang suddenly paused, his brow knitting together in confusion as he stared over to where Stelle was. “Did she just find a record in that vase?”

Dan Heng looked over at Stelle, who was practically beaming as she studied the vinyl she managed to excavate out of a broken vase. He couldn’t help but smile despite himself. “Not that I want to encourage this habit of hers, but you’d be amazed at what she finds where.”

“Huh.” Mr. Yang gave a small smile as Stelle approached them again, her prize in hand. “In any case, I think this place is as good as any to find appropriate furniture for her room.”

“Agreed. Though, I do wonder how she’d like actual shopping for once.”

“Maybe we should give her a little spending money and see what becomes of it,” Mr. Yang suggested. “I’d be curious to see how she reacts compared to March or Himeko.”

~~~

It was their last day on the Xianzhou, Mr. Yang decided to give the trio some spending money. Hence, Dan Heng was given the option to either monitor March as she ran about or take Stelle shopping.

He felt sorry for giving Mr. Yang the hard task, but Mr. Yang was the one giving him the choice in the first place.

Dan Heng soon learned something interesting about Stelle: when given money, she became very picky about what she spent it on. That was not to say she didn’t admire things; she admired many things, but spending her money on those things is a different matter.

Which begged the question: what made the things she found different?

As Dan Heng pondered this, he failed to realize she was looking at the same jade abacus pendants for the third time. Only when she came over to him did he snap back to reality.

“Find something?” he asked, any more words dying on his tongue as she came in close, holding the two pendants up to his horns.

He froze, staring at her as she studied the pendants dangling on either side of his face.

And then she smiled, pulling them back. “Thank you.” With that, she turned around, placed one of the pendants back, and purchased the other.

But that’s it. 

Furthermore, that was all she bought, despite looking around at many other stores.

It took far too long for Dan Heng’s ability to speak to return. “Maybe you should buy some clothes while you’re here,” he gently suggested, the warmth in his face fading. “So you don’t have to borrow from March anymore.”

She tilted her head, almost as though the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “I have the ones you gave me, too.”

“As a spare.”

“But I like them.”

Just like that, the heat returned to his face. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Maybe it was best to just drop it for now and leave the subject of clothes to someone else. “Then are you finished shopping?”

She nodded, holding the pendant close. “Yes. We should get back to the ship. We’ve taken too long.”

“My guess is March is still out shopping,” Dan Heng said. “Or at least meandering about. If you wanted to look for more, seeing as you still have funds—”

“You do, too.”

He ignored her. “Then we can continue.”

“You don’t want anything?”

He shook his head. “There is nothing I require as of now.”

She studied him a moment, mulling over his words before nodding. “I’ve also found all I wanted. We should head back before it gets too late.”

Dan Heng wouldn’t argue. “Then we can start making our way back. And if you see any trashcans that catch your attention, then I’ll pretend to not know you.”

“Hey!”

Dan Heng just chuckled.

~~~

With a twinkle in her eye, Himeko had kindly offered to take March and Stelle into town for the day under the guise of “restocking supplies.” Which was actually her making a perfect excuse to take Stelle out of the Astral Express so Dan Heng and Mr. Yang could bring in the furniture they had bought for her.

“She really only bought the pendent?” Mr. Yang asked, his voice strained as he helped Dan Heng carry one of the two shelving units down the hall.

“Yes,” Dan Heng replied. “Oddly. I thought for sure she’d get more considering how much she likes—turn left—rummaging for things.”

Mr. Yang maneuvered the bookshelf according to Dan Heng’s commands as they carried it through the train. “Maybe the hunt is what she considers fun.”

“Maybe,” Dan Heng conceded. He then focused on instructing Mr. Yang on getting the shelving unit through Stelle’s bedroom door. Once inside, they set it up against the wall that she once had her things lined up against.

Dan Heng then took a moment to place her things onto the shelf. She could reorganize them later, but for now, he felt it the respectful thing to do since he had moved everything to make room for the furniture in the first place. Considering what little she had, it wouldn’t take that long, anyway.

“Well,” Mr. Yang started, assisting in stacking the papers on the shelf, “I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world. She can have her habits, however odd, as long as they make her happy. Though, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her.”

Dan Heng couldn’t disagree.

“If she shows interest in anything else,” Mr. Yang said once they finished replacing Stelle’s… “collection” on the shelf, “we’ll get it for her.”

Before Dan Heng could respond, he heard the light clatter of metal accompany the soft pats of footsteps coming down the hall. He turned around, only to see Stelle carrying a new “collectable” in her arms.

Her brow quirked in confusion. “What…” But upon catching sight of the new furniture in her room, her eyes widened.

Mr. Yang smiled. “We thought you would like somewhere to put your things.”

When she smiled, it lit up the room, her golden eyes holding the light of a blazing star within them.

“Sorry for trespassing,” Dan Heng said, his face heating up as he turned away, unable to withstand the light that shone from her.

“It’s revenge for trespassing in your room, isn’t it, Dan Heng?” she teased, remarking all the times she came into the archives to search for research material.

“Let’s… call it that,” Dan Heng hesitantly agreed, if only to cover the fact his body was reacting strangely and not calming down.

Mr. Yang shot him a look Dan Heng couldn’t quite decipher before turning back to Stelle. “So, you found a cycrane?”

Stelle smiled, showing off her newest possession. “It was broken in an abandoned box.”

“Don’t you think you should return it to have it fixed?” Dan Heng suggested.

She looked down at the metal bird, the light in her eyes dimming at the thought.

And suddenly, Dan Heng felt a pang of guilt for ever suggesting taking her things away from her. “I suppose they should have taken better care of it. It might have even been replaced already.”

Her shoulders relaxed in relief, and the knot in Dan Heng’s stomach disappeared.

“We actually have two more pieces for you,” Mr. Yang said. “Which we should go get now. We apologize once again for trespassing, even if it was done with the best of intentions.”

“No, it’s cool,” she dismissed, looking over her shelving unit with glee. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dan Heng dismissed, happy to leave for a moment so as to get his mind back in order. He followed Mr. Yang out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

“That was kind of you.”

Dan Heng’s brow furrowed. “What was?”

With an amused sigh, Mr. Yang shook his head. “Nevermind.”

~~~

The next thing to be put up in Stelle’s room was a cork board, like the one in March’s room, so she could hang photos March took. It also sported a few pictures Dan Heng himself took for records that Stelle commented she liked as well as notes left by the Astral Express crew for her. Unlike March’s decorative board that was randomly spattered with photos, Stelle’s was organized to hold as many pictures as possible.

Currently, the crew was indulging in one last day of exploring before leaving their current location. Well, most of the crew members were. Stelle was currently laid up in bed, sporting a leg injury after their last battle here. March had one arm in a sling yet was still determined to roam about, hence why Dan Heng was pushing past the throbbing of his own bruises to watch her. Heaven knew Himeko was in no condition to come out, and Mr. Yang insisted that he would take responsibility of watching the Astral Express in her place.

And watch out for Himeko as well, Dan Heng would guess. Mr. Yang was protective in that way.

“We should get everyone ‘get well’ gifts,” March suggested.

Dan Heng bit back his urge to protest. Just because he didn’t see a point in such gifts didn’t mean they weren’t important to March. “As in?”

“I don’t know. Flowers or snacks or something.”

“Food or medicine would be the most practical.”

March stuck out her tongue at him. “I forgot who I was traveling with,” she flatly snipped.

“Then I will leave that task to you,” he batted back.

After some time, she finished picking up gifts, and they headed back to the express. On the way, they passed through an open field area, one littered with yellow flowers that had caught Stelle’s eye when they had first arrived. At the time, she had only picked a single wilting flower to examine, but Dan Heng would guess she had chosen one on its last life due to his dry comment of it getting ruined on their upcoming adventure.

But now… now, if she were able to pick them, she would be able to keep them safe and admire them for a few days. And considering her scavenging tendencies, she might be out here picking flowers if she had the chance.

He stole a glance at March, who was humming happily as she marched along ahead of him, one of her gifts cradled in her good arm. Dan Heng carried the other gift—an assortment of interesting snacks—since her arm was in a sling. As it were, paying attention to him seemed to be the last thing on her mind, so Dan Heng bent down and plucked a large, yellow flower still in good condition. Then a second and third followed.

There. Stelle might be miserable on bed rest, but at least she would be able to study the flowers that had always caught her eye.

Once back on the train, March flipped around to face him. “I’m gonna go see Himeko first. Can you put that in my room so I can give it to Stelle later?”

Dan Heng, who had angled himself away to hide the flowers behind the folds of his clothes, simply nodded.

“Thank you!” she sang-sung before skipping off to Himeko.

Dan Heng sighed. Her chipper mood almost seemed out of place considering how affected she’d been by their last battle. It had taken him far too long to realize the extent to which she was forcing her mood, successfully hiding her anxieties for the sake of the others who were bedridden. In fact, she was doing such a good job that Dan Heng thought maybe he should have gotten something for her, just to take her mind off things and offer a moment of distraction.

Glancing at the flowers in his hands, he headed to March’s room, both to put down March’s gift for Stelle on her dresser and leave one of the flowers for her. Catching sight of the notepad on March’s bedside table, he scribbled “Get Well Soon – Dan Heng” on the top sheet and left the flower on top of it.

Once finished, he headed to Stelle’s room and knocked on her door.

“It’s open,” she responded, her voice flat and bitter. Likely a result of having her foot trapped in a cast.

Dan Heng opened the door, revealing a normally feisty girl in his old clothes trapped on her bed by a cast that supported her broken ankle. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

She shrugged, putting aside the book he had given to her before he’d left with March. “Fine?”

“You don’t sound fine.”

She just sighed. “Maybe not so fine.”

With a frown, Dan Heng approached her. “Is there anything you need?”

“Other than my leg out of this cast?”

“Not until it’s healed.”

“Then no.”

At the way she glared at her cast, her nose crinkled in frustration, Dan Heng couldn’t help but smirk. Cute, he thought.

Before he instantly caught himself and felt his cheeks warm.

Covering his embarrassment by clearing his throat, he extended the two remaining flowers to Stelle. “You were looking at these when we first arrived, right?”

The huffy gloom that was hovering over her expression morphed to surprise before giving way to that starlight smile once again. “You saw that?” she asked, her cheeks coloring a bit as she reached for the flowers.

As if he didn’t think she was pretty before, that shy blush only added to his distress. “I did. It’s my job to look out for my teammates.”

“I didn’t realize that meant ‘observe’.”

“Force of habit.”

She chuckled, amused.

As she studied the flowers in her hands, carefully running her non-gloved fingers over the petals, Dan Heng was struck with an odd sense of how lovely the sight before him was. In many situations, Stelle was a force of nature, one that not many dare to reckon with. Whether it be a baseball bat or a lance of fire, she was a blazing tornado that left a path of destruction in her wake, all in a matter of seconds. And yet, that same girl was here before him delicately stroking flower petals the color of her eyes, ones that now held an unmistakable softness. Those flowers in her hands were treated with the same respect and care that she treated all her objects with, no matter what their origin. This picture of gentility was so warm and welcoming that Dan Heng didn’t quite know what to make of it.

So he stood there awkwardly as his heart pounded in his chest.

He should leave, he thought. But all he managed to do was take a single step backwards before he froze. While he knew what he should do, he didn’t want to. Which left him wondering why he wanted to get closer, to be part of this picture of gentility before him.

Why did he want to get so close to this part of Stelle?

“Dan Heng?”

Her words snapped him back to reality, causing his heart to thump almost painfully in his chest. “Oh, uh, sorry. I… got lost in my own thoughts.” His cheeks were burning now. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask what those thoughts were; he wouldn’t be able to tell her.

Her brow furrowed with concern as she laid the flowers off to the side. “How are you fairing? You… you took a beating, too.”

Oh, she was inquiring about his injuries. “Don’t worry about me,” he quickly dismissed. “Bruises heal faster than breaks.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.”

He simply shrugged.

With a sigh, she patted the spot next to her on her bed. “You can sit, you know.”

“I’m fine.”

At the look of disappointment that crossed her face, his iron will broke. He allowed himself to sit on the edge of her bed, which brought a happy smile back to her face.

“Did you want the company?” he inquired, curious.

She ducked her head, almost shyly. “I wouldn’t mind having you around.”

Before he could come up with a response to that—

“Dan Heeeeeeng!”

—a particularly emotional cry sounded from outside Stelle’s room.

Next thing the duo knew, March was standing in the open doorway of Stelle’s room, tears in her eyes as she clung to the flower Dan Heng had put in her room. “You got me a flower?”

Well… this reaction was not the one he’d expected.

“That’s not very Dan Heng of him, is it?” Stelle teased as she reached for her own flowers.

“It is not very Dan Heng of him!” March cried, shuffling over to throw her one good arm around Dan Heng.

A soft oof escaped him as he caught the girl who practically fell against him, reminding him that he wasn’t as healed as he thought. “March, bruises,” he grunted out.

With a gasp, she scrambled away. “Sorry!”

“I knew you were lying,” Stelle grumbled, now glaring at Dan Heng.

“They’ll heal soon enough,” he dismissed, his voice tight as he waited for the pain to subside.

It earned him an eyeroll from Stelle.

“Anyway, look at the flower he gave me!” March said, showing off her slightly worse-for-wear possession to Stelle. “And he was complaining about get-well gifts.”

“The fact that it didn’t kill him is astounding.”

At Stelle’s teasing smirk, Dan Heng glared.

“Oh! He got you flowers, too?”

Stelle’s smile softened as she brought the flowers close to her chest as though they were a prized possession instead of an afterthought plucked from the side of a road. “Yeah.”

“Man, what’s gotten into him today?” March remarked.

“I’m right here, you know,” Dan Heng flatly remarked, not that either of the girls were listening.

“But why did she get two?” March whined.

“Because I’m special,” Stelle retorted, puffing out her chest with pride as she flashed a mockingly haughty smile.

To which March stuck out her tongue. “I was going to say you should have gotten a whole bouquet for your ankle, but I take that back now!”

They stayed like that for a while just chatting back and forth, Stelle never letting go of her own flowers even as March walked away waving hers in the air.

“Thanks, once again,” Stelle said as Dan Heng was getting ready to leave. March had already left claiming she was tired and wanted to rest a bit. “For these.”

Dan Heng nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“Even though it’s not a whole bouquet.”

His expression fell at her mischievousness. “Then next time, I’ll each get you a single one so you won’t fight.”

“Aww, don’t do that,” she batted back. “This way, the flower has a friend. So she’s not lonely.”

Her last sentence was quiet but not to the point he would miss it. “Then…” He bit back the comment about bouquets, realizing just in time that wasn’t what she was talking about. “She doesn’t have to be lonely. She’ll always have a friend.” With that, he patted her shoulder before standing up to leave.

Behind him, he could hear Stelle’s quiet chuckle. “A friend, huh?” she muttered, smile clear in her voice. “Maybe I am special.”

Dan Heng paused in the doorway before he could go. “Yeah, you are.”

And then he left, unsure why his heart was pounding as he did.

A week later, March had already tossed her flower out, its petals all wilted and fallen. Stelle, however, still had hers. Mr. Yang had shown her how to press and preserve them, and they had been stuck to paper that now hung proudly on her pegboard.

Dan Heng didn’t know why, but seeing the care she’d put into an off-the-cuff gift embarrassed him. It had taken him all but three seconds to pick those flowers, yet she’d taken care of them as though they were priceless. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised considering how she took care of things she found out of the dumpster, but he still was.

It wasn’t long before Dan Heng decided that the next gift he gave her, and any after, needed far more thought than before. He’d give her things to treasure.

And he tried not to think of how happy that thought made him feel.

~~~

It took a while, but Dan Heng finally discovered the pattern in Stelle’s ever-growing collection.

Things she found were free game. He realized that, through those things, she explored her surroundings. She studied each trailblazing stop by reading all the reading materials she could get her hands on, listening to whatever music she could find, and studying the objects she found in the world, such as the cycrane that she had brought back from Xianzhou and tinkered with. It now hung from the ceiling above her small bed.

On the other hand, things she purchased were done with careful consideration and thought. They had to remind her specifically of the adventure she was on and who she was trailblazing with. Occasionally, she splurged for music or food or other odd items, but that wasn’t common.

Clothes were another matter entirely. Dan Heng had made one mention to March about Stelle’s limited wardrobe, and March had become determined to remedy that. Himeko was also more than willing to jump on the bandwagon, and the two of them became solely responsible for filling Stelle’s wardrobe.

Which was why Stelle was sporting an (admittedly cute) white sundress as they wondered around a festival on the last day of one of their adventures.

It was a rare occasion that Himeko and Mr. Yang had dared leave the Astral Express unattended so the five trailblazers could all partake in the festivities together. Dan Heng had offered to stay behind, but the duel looks of disappointment from March and Stelle had him reconsidering.

“I’ve been here before,” Himeko had explained. “And I trust the security around the Astral Express enough to leave it be for a little bit. It’s rare to have an outing like this.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Yang agreed. “I say we enjoy this while we can.”

March was the most determined to make that happen. She led the charge, suggesting different game stalls to compete at while also buying different foods for everyone to try.

 Dan Heng had to admit that he was enjoying himself. “Family time” was quite the foreign concept to him, but he found this time of being with everyone he’d come to care deeply about quite precious.

Currently, they were sitting at a table, munching on what Mr. Yang insisted should be the last snack March bought for them—much to March’s chagrin—and talking about how to spend the rest of their trip. It was while March, Himeko, and Mr. Yang were discussing this that Dan Heng caught Stelle staring off into the distance.

He turned to see if he could spot what had captured Stelle’s attention, but there was nothing specific that stood out in the line of game carts. “What has your attention?” he quietly asked.

Stelle startled, likely not realizing she’d been caught, before turning back to the half-finished snack plate March had bought. “Nothing.”

“Clearly not nothing,” Dan Heng pressed.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get a reply.

“I think that if we want to watch the show tonight,” Mr. Yang began. “Then we should start migrating over in that direction. It would be better to be early to find good seats.”

“A wise idea,” Himeko said. “Why don’t we head that direction then and scope out the place first. If it’s still empty, then we can meander around a little longer before sitting down.”

“Sounds good to me!” March chipped up. “Stelle, Dan Heng, what do you guys think?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Stelle agreed.

Dan Heng simply nodded his agreement.

“Perfect,” Himeko said. “I say we finish this, then head that direction.”

Their snack was finished quickly, curtesy of March who deemed it her favorite of the snacks she’d bought thus far. But as they were heading over, Dan Heng finally realized what Stelle had been looking at all this time: a game stall.

More specifically, the dragon plush toy that was hanging as a prize.

“Does that interest you?”

Surprised, Stelle’s attention snapped to Dan Heng. “No, it just…” She shrugged, a bashful smile creeping across her lips. “Kinda reminds me of you.”

It was Dan Heng’s turn to be surprised. He stopped in his tracks, staring up at the dragon toy hanging from the awning of the stall by a rope around its neck like a noose. “You… wish to see me hung?”

Scoffing, Stelle threw a playful punch at his shoulder.

He chuckled, brushing off the hit that was probably a little stronger than she meant it to be. “Would you like it?”

Her eyes widened. “Huh?”

“We can play for it,” he offered. “If you want.”

“O-oh.” She turned to look at the toy once again, and Dan Heng could see the little gleam in her eye that he’d come to recognize as happiness for an item.

With a smile, he placed his hand on the small of her back, pushing her towards the game. “From what I can tell, you have to knock over a certain number of masks for the prize.” It also looked like people were having a hard time aiming for the small and probably heavy targets.

That’s when he saw that happy gleam in her eye turn to a competitive spark, like she was facing off against an enemy and preparing to hit them with a farewell hit after screaming “rules are meant to be broken!”

Not for the first time did Dan Heng think that her brand of odd really did fit well with the rest of the trailblazers. Maybe being strange was a job requirement.

“Hello, good sir!” the game stall owner called out as they approached. “Aiming to try your luck?”

“What are the qualifications to win the dragon?” Dan Heng asked.

“Ahh, I thought I saw the lovely young lady with the eye on the prize,” the stall owner playfully commented. “Behind me are three kinds of targets: blue haired, yellow haired, and red haired. Knocking down ten of the targets with red hair will get you the dragon. Are you up for the challenge?”

Dan Heng looked at the mask targets lined up on the shelves. Of the available targets, the ones sporting tufts of red hair seemed the smallest of the three. And if Dan Heng had to guess, there was likely a trick on how heavy they were, too.

“Are you up for it?” he asked Stelle.

Not that he needed to; he swore the energy of her fire lance was glowing in her eyes. “Let’s destroy them.”

Dan Heng chuckled as he pulled out some money. “Five balls for me, five for her.” 

“Daw, don’t be like that,” the stall owner teasingly jabbed, still taking the money and offering up the balls. “You’re gonna make the lady play for her own prize?”

“The lady is more than capable,” Dan Heng clarified, sliding five of the balls over to Stelle.

Taking one of the balls and gleefully tossing it in the air, Stelle seemed to stand tall in pride.

The stall owner huffed, amused. “Well, I suppose your willingness to play along with your girlfriend is one of the reasons you have her.”

That got both Dan Heng and Stelle to freeze, sparing each other a glance before quickly looking away. “Um…” she stuttered. “That’s… not it.”

“Huh?”

Yeah, Dan Heng didn’t think it sounded convincing, either. Not that he had anything better to say.

“Er… so the red ones, right?” she asked, sharply changing the subject as she stepping back into a stance.

Happy to play ignorant, Dan Heng also took a step back. “Yes.”

She turned to throw him a competitive look. “Then let’s show them what we’re made of.”

Dan Heng felt his grip on the ball tighten, his own competitive spirit flaring in response. “Let’s.”

Ten balls and ten red-haired masks later, the stall owner, who was looking a little white in the face, was taking the stuffed dragon toy down from where it hung. “Congratulations,” he flatly said, his voice a bit breathless. “Take the toy. Please don’t show up again.”

With a bounce in her step, Stelle took her prize, squeezing it against her chest as she beamed at the man.

“We should go find the others,” Dan Heng commented, already guiding Stelle away from the stall. He couldn’t blame the man for wanting them gone. However, Dan Heng would admit he found it quite amusing to watch the man blanch paper white upon watching Stelle throw her first pitch so hard that red hair exploded off the target.

~~~

Dan Heng had developed a very bad habit as of late. Never before had he cared for objects. He was content with his books and meager necessities. However, he recently found his eye drawn to shop windows and merchant carts wherever he went.

Why? Because he was always on the lookout for things to give to Stelle.

The clothes he had first given to her were ones she still wore. Even after having accumulated her own wardrobe, he still spotted her lounging around in his old outfit. His heart still fluttered whenever he caught sight of the flowers he’d given her several stops ago. Even now, they still managed to maintain their color, having been preserved at the right time.

As for the stuffed dragon toy they had won together…

It was loved well, he’d say that. A few nights ago, he’d found her hugging the toy tightly as she gazed out the windows at the stars in the main car. Apparently, she’d had trouble sleeping and wanted to see if leaving her room would help. The toy had never left her arms. Instead, it had been hugged tightly as though it were her lifeline. Having been worried for her, he’d stayed up to talk with her long into the night, and as she’d grown tired, she’d used the dragon’s plush head as a pillow.

Knowing how much she cared for these things, he began to wonder if she’d take care of other gifts he’d give to her. Which lead to where he was now. Honestly, he found it a bit embarrassing and hoped no one ever found out. But considering the way Himeko was currently looking at him, he doubted he could hide it much longer.

“It’s not like you to window shop,” she remarked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “And there’s no holiday or event coming up, as far as I’m aware.”

Dan Heng shrugged, absently wondering how long he could escape Himeko’s prodding.

“You’re not the type to like souvenirs,” she continued. “And I could be wrong, but this culture’s style isn’t to your utilitarian tastes, so it’s unlikely you’re getting anything for yourself.”

 “It would be faster for you to simply ask your question,” Dan Heng answered, realizing with a tinge of disappointment that the answer to his previous question was “not very long.”

“Is it for Stelle?”

At the sound of her name, his stomach twisted, feeling fluttery. He sighed. “Am I being that obvious?”

Himeko giggled. “No. However, when someone has known you as long as I have…”

Dan Heng would give credit where credit was due: Himeko was quite observant.

“Forgive me,” she continued. “I can’t help but meddle when I see a romance bloom before my eyes.”

Dan Heng choked, his heart now fluttering along with his stomach.

Himeko’s smirk fell as she looked at him with bemusement. “Oh? Are you that stunned that I picked up on it? Or…” Her smile slowly returned. “Did you not realize it yourself?”

“I-it’s not like that,” Dan Heng protested.

“Really now?”

“Yes.”

Despite the warning in his voice, Himeko hummed, unperturbed. “Then how would you define your relationship, considering that you’re looking for a gift for Stelle when you’re not doing the same for March?”

Dan Heng opened his mouth to retort, only to catch himself. His answer would surely lead to further doubts, yet it was the embarrassing truth. However, not answering the question would only lead Himeko to believe her original guess was correct, meaning he’d have to explain in detail to avoid confusion. Er… any more of it, anyway.

“Stelle has a habit of collecting things,” he began.

“Yes, she does,” Himeko agreed, nodding along amusedly. “You and Welt were very kind to set up those shelves for her.”

“Specifically, she enjoys collecting items that meet certain qualifications from each place we stop at.”

“And you’re looking to give her one of these items?”

Dan Heng nodded in response, thinking for a moment that Himeko might just understand after all.

“Why?”

“Why?” Dan Heng repeated, confused at the question.

“You don’t indulge March like this.”

“March likes anything and everything,” he dismissed. “Getting her something for the sake of getting her an item would only clutter her room.”

“But Stelle is different?”

Dan Heng realized too late that he did not like where this conversation was going, yet he was helpless to stop it. “Y-yes.”

Much to his surprise, Himeko hummed and nodded, happy to quietly accept his answer. “So, one more question: just what are the qualifications for this item she’s looking for?”

A seemingly safe question. Frankly, Dan Heng would take this one over any more prodding over a crush he most certainly did not have. “She likes things that remind her of us.”

“Us?”

“Specifically, of the people she trailblazes with on each mission.”

Himeko hummed. “So that’s why she has a jade pendant that is reminiscent of your horns, the flowers you gave her, a plush dragon toy, and your old clothes as sleepwear. I see.”

Dan Heng glared at Himeko, whose eyes once again held a wickedly teasing gleam.

She giggled. “Are you looking for something that will remind her of you this time?”

He crossed his arms, unsure of how to answer.

With a sigh, that gleam in her eye softened. “Dan Heng. Can I give you a bit of unsolicited advice.”

“I have the feeling that even if I were to say no, you’d still want to give it.”

She smirked. “I have trailblazed all over the cosmos for many years, and several people have come and gone from my life. If I were you and the option to deepen a bond with someone was set in front of me, I would reach out for it. Trailblazing is a lonely life. Having someone by your side to have and hold would make that life a little more comforting, don’t you think?”

The sincerity in her tone gave Dan Heng pause. “You, Mr. Yang, March, and Pom-pom are all equally my companions,” he responded. “Just as much as Stelle.”

“Yes, but to you, Stelle is different from the rest of us, isn’t she?”

“She… is still the newest member—”

“You would not have done this for March,” Himeko repeated.

At that, Dan Heng had no answer.

Giving him a reassuring smile, she leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. “Dan Heng. Take the chance.”

And with that, she walked away, giving Dan Heng much to think about.

~~~

It was after their most recent mission was completed that Dan Heng finally came to a decision. Himeko had been quietly encouraging, and she must have told Mr. Yang something as the man seemed to be giving Dan Heng subtle looks of approval.

March was clearly still left in the dark, thankfully.

For the umpteenth time today, he reached into his pocket, squeezing the object he had bought. Although he still had his doubts, he’d already made a decision to press forward. He’d spent enough time mulling things over, debating the pros and cons of what this decision would bring and if he really wanted this in the first place.

But now, as he was walking around the outskirts of the city with Stelle by his side, two things solidified in his mind: yes, he really did want this, and yes, any drawbacks outweighed the rewards he would gain if they did move forward.

“Did you happen to find any souvenir you liked?” Dan Heng asked, starting conversation.

Her nose scrunched in frustration as she shook her head. “No. And we leave soon.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Dan Heng teased. “Between that and your scavenging, you’re going to run out of room on your shelves.”

She glared at him.

Despite himself, he smiled. “When was the last time you cleaned all your trinkets, anyway?”

“Four days ago,” she easily answered. “After Pom-pom kicked me out of the parlor when I put my feet on the couch.”

“You should really know better by now.”

“I took off my shoes!”

“Pom-pom doesn’t care.”

Stelle just rolled her eyes. “Pom-pom needs a hobby.”

“Other than cleaning?”

“Other than micro-managing.”

Dan Heng chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Is that why you coop yourself up in the archives? To avoid Pom’s ‘charm’.”

“No, it’s March’s I tend to avoid.”

At that, Stelle snorted a laugh.

Cute, Dan Heng thought. She’s cute. “Are you certain I cannot talk you out of collecting yet another trinket to dust?”

Stelle grew quiet at his question, her smile fading as she pondered his words. “I… I want to remember.”

His brow furrowed. “Remember?”

“My adventures with everyone,” she clarified. “I don’t have memories before waking with this stellaron inside of me. I want… I want something to remember these adventures by.” By now, her voice had dropped to a murmur. “I want something to prove these times I spent with you happened. Er! All of you, I mean.”

Dan Heng found himself squeezing the object in his pocket once again. “Then here.” He held out his hand, object enclosed within it.

Her expression scrunched in curiosity as she stuck out her hand in response, and he gave her the gift he’d been holding onto for the last three days. Her eyes widened as she studied the little wooden totem now in her hands, one carved to resemble a blue lizard.

“They don’t have dragons on this planet,” Dan Heng said. “That is the closest they have to resembling them.”

She turned her wide gaze up at him. “You got this for me?”

He nodded, taking out the object in his other pocket. “And I got this for me.”

Sparing a glance at the second totem in his hand, she quirked a dubious brow up at him. “You don’t like trinkets.”

“I don’t,” he confirmed. “But… it reminded me of you.”

Her head tilted, she studied the odd, gray creature in his hand. “How so?”

“The locals call them ‘trash bandits.’”

“Hey!”

Dan Heng chuckled.

“Don’t laugh. How dare you.”

But there was no bite behind those words, so Dan Heng didn’t bother to stop.

Rolling her eyes, she turned to walk away.

“Stelle.”

Automatically, he reached out to stop her, snatching her wrist and pulling her back to him. But even once she had turned around, her expression flat, he didn’t let go. “I wouldn’t have gotten it for no reason.”

Slowly, realization began to dawn over her face. That unamused glare turned to something softer, her gaze searching for an answer.

His hand holding her wrist slid lower to hold her fingers.

And something sparkled in her golden eyes.

“It was not meant as a mockery,” he spoke. “Only a reminder of you.”

Her mouth opened, but when no words came out, she closed it and glanced away. When she looked back, her voice was soft. “That’s unusual for you.”

“It’s not a habit I plan to pick up, no. But…” The words died on his tongue, and he glanced away, struggling to find them again.

“Hey, Dan Heng.” Thankfully, she seemed to find words of her own as she gently squeezed his hand. “I… like things that remind me of you.”

It wasn’t quite the confession he was expecting, yet it was still better than his.

He squeezed her hand in return. “I’d rather be there for you so you didn’t need things to remind you.”

At least that wasn’t a half bad response, he thought.

When her face grew pink, he felt his heart pick up its pace.

“Then… can you stay by my side?” she asked.

He smiled. “If you’d let me, I’d like to.”

~~~

As someone who had suffered exile, Dan Heng had grown accustomed to being alone. In general, he was a quiet and reserved person, but loneliness was different. Hence, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved to join the Astral Express crew, to have Himeko extend the invitation to not be alone. He took comfort knowing that this place contained people who cared for him and that he cared for in return.

But then came Stelle, who somehow swayed his heart enough for him to decide to accept her as his significant other. And while that change was a large one for Dan Heng to adapt to, the comfort it brought made the transition go smoothly. To have someone by his side, whether that be while exploring a new planet or simply spending quiet time together in the archives, was something Dan Heng quickly learned to cherish.

Of course, there were many other things he learned about being with Stelle. One being that while he considered her his significant other, as she was significant in his life, she in return—

“Dan Heng?”

He blinked up at Stelle, her worried voice cutting though the foggy mess in his head. “Oh, you’re back.”

“I brought some food,” she said, closing the door to his rarely used room behind her. “Don’t worry; Himeko didn’t touch it.”

“Thank you.” He looked at the tray of food, hoping his stomach wouldn’t protest at the sight. As resistant to illness as he was, there were occasions where something from a new planet hit him so hard he went down. Such was the case currently. Although, his pride would insist that the lack of sleep, the high stress of this stellaron hunting mission, and the beating he received at the end were the reasons he was weak enough to catch an illness in the first place.

He would ignore the fact that Stelle, who’d also gone through the wringer with him, was fine.

Kneeling beside his futon, she placed the tray on the floor beside her. Hands now free, she reached out to press one of her wrists on his forehead and the other on his cheek.

Compared to the heat in his face, her touch was cool, to the point he automatically leaned into it seeking relief.

“I’m trying to source ingredients for one of Natasha’s cures,” she mentioned, pulling her hands away, much to his dismay. “Don’t worry. I’ve almost found everything. We’re trying to find a substitute for one thing, though. For now, this is all I can do.”

She held out the bowl of congee to him, one that was speckled green with what he’d assume were medicinal herbs. “Thanks.”

“Think you can stomach it?”

He shrugged, reaching for the offered spoon. “Hopefully.”

“I suppose of all of us, you’d be the most likely to hold it down, Mr. Iron Stomach.”

“Not necessarily.”

With a slightly amused smirk, she quirked a challenging brow at him. “Unlike the rest of us, you test your willpower against Himeko’s morning sludge—er, coffee, on the regular.”

“Did Pom-Pom tell you that?”

“Yeah.”

He huffed, taking a bite of food. It was slightly bitter, but not offensively so. Furthermore, his stomach didn’t seem to protest it yet. By his approximations, he would be able to get most of the bowl down. “Are we going to leave here soon?”

Stelle shook her head. “Mr. Yang suggested staying here a couple days longer for your sake. We’ll leave when you’re on the upswing.”

“No need to wait that long,” he protested. “We could leave now.”

“I agreed we should stay.”

He quirked a brow at her.

Her smirk now faded, she reached forward to lay a hand on his thigh. Even through the blanket he had draped over his legs, he could feel the light circles she made with her thumb.

Warmth flooded his cheeks as he looked down at his bowl of food. That’s right. To Stelle, he was her precious treasure, and she took very good care of everything she considered ‘hers’. Including him.

Especially him.

So if she wanted to stay for his sake, search around for all the ingredients for whatever concoction she was determined to get for him, he wouldn’t protest. After all, that was just her way of showing how much she cared. “Thank you,” he simply said, raising another spoonful of the food she made specifically to help him to his lips.

She gave him a tender smile. “You’re welcome.”

[astralarchives]

Welt Yang - First Impressions

Hey so this is my first post for Honkai: Star Rail!!! I will be writing for a lot of the star rail characters so let me know who you want to see next!!! Love y’all! <3

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k+

Waking up on a train that was currently rushing through space, was not the way you had imagined your weekend going. You sat up slowly, taking in your surroundings, as you mentally cursed at yourself for listening to Himeko once again. It was her brilliant idea to bring you onto the Astral Express, but she seemed to have forgotten to mention the exact date and time of your departure. Which is how you ended up here. You had gone to sleep in your room, nice and cozy, and had woken up on a high tech train headed…well you didn’t quite know where it was headed. Having sulked for at least ten minutes, you decided to get ready and head out in search of your dear friend. 

The train was absolutely stunning on the inside. Beautiful floors, crystal clear windows and there was a mild yet refreshing scent throughout the corridor. As you made your way through the different compartments of the train, you found yourself in what seemed to be the main section. In a house, one could call it the living room, but for some reason the word for this section on a train completely slipped your mind. Not that it mattered much anymore, for you had finally found the woman who essentially kidnapped you. 

“Himeko!”  You called out for her as you walked towards her.

She was standing by one of the windows, watching the stars and the sky as if it was the last time she would ever see a sight as beautiful as this. Upon hearing your voice, she spun around and froze, the way one would if they had been caught doing something wrong. 

“Y/N…glad to see you’re up! Did you get plenty of rest?” 

“Oh yeah totally. I really enjoy waking up in a different place every morning.”

She smiled sweetly at you and you let out a sigh. Staying mad at Himeko was definitely not an easy feat. Something about her always made the room feel light and happy, and you couldn’t resist it, no matter how hard you tried. 

“I was going to wake you up and bring you on board, but we made a last minute decision to leave super early and you looked peaceful while you were sleeping…”  

“Ok, first of all, it’s creepy to watch people sleep and second, you carried me all the way up here? I know you’re strong but that still seems difficult to do.”

“Oh! No, I brought your stuff, Welt carried you to your room here!”  She nodded her head in the direction of the coffee machine that was set up on a nice little table, across the room. 

A tall gentleman was standing there, frowning at the coffee machine as though it had personally offended him. You couldn’t see his whole face clearly, but you didn’t really need to. He was a very attractive man, and suddenly the image of him carrying you popped into your head. 

“Please, Himeko, please tell me you’re joking.”

“No? He actually offered to carry you, which was very helpful, seeing as you had a lot of stuff to bring.”

“Himeko!!!”

“What?!?!”

“That’s so embarrassing, oh my god, how could you do this to me?”

“Y/N, you lost me there, what is the problem, exactly?”

“He’s…”

“What? Old? Mean looking? Smells too strongly of coffee?”

“Hot.”

“Oh.”

There was a long moment of silence, as Himeko looked at you, and then at Welt, and then at you again. She then started squinting at Welt, as if she was trying to see what you saw in him.

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Welt had finally decided to speak, seeing as the room had become too silent. You jumped slightly, and Himeko continued to squint at him. 

Welt set his cup down and walked over to the two of you. You found yourself becoming very nervous as he got closer, subconsciously fixing your shirt and standing straighter. 

“Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Or rather, it’s nice to meet you while you’re awake.” He smiled at you and held his hand out for you to shake it. 

“I, uh, yeah! It’s nice to meet you too!” You shook his hand, making a conscious effort to not hold his hand too tightly or for too long. 

Your thoughts were running wild now. His hair looked so soft and his eyes held pain in them but there were small glimmers of hope that shone through and his smile, oh his smile, it was quite honestly the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. 

“Thank you, that’s quite the compliment.”

“What.”

You blinked, zoning back in, and found yourself facing a now blushing Welt, and Himeko holding back her laughter. It would appear as though you had said that last bit, about his smile, out loud.

“I think I’m going to go now…gotta unpack and whatnot so uh…bye!”

You turned and ran out the door opposite the one you had entered from. Himeko finally burst out laughing and Welt couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t every day that a beautiful person like you complimented him. Especially with the amount of sincerity you seemed to have.

“Well? What do you think?”  Himeko had regained her composure, though she was still highly amused.

“Hm?”

“Y/N. What are your thoughts about them?”

“Ah. I think I should be careful.”

“Why? Is your back acting up again?”

“That happened once, and no. I fear that I may have to turn down their advances somewhere in the near future.” 

“Who knows, you might grow to find yourself reciprocating those feelings.”

Welt shook his head and sat down on one of the lounge couches, leaning his cane on it as he did so. 

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Ok…what’s the problem then?”  Himeko sat down beside him, staring directly at his head as though she was trying to read his mind.

“I’m too-”

“If you say old, I swear to god.”

“...Old.”

Himeko exhaled sharply and glared at him. She admired Welt for his intelligence and his ability to solve complex problems but it seemed as though he was clueless when it came to the affairs of the heart. 

“Well at the very least, they left quite the impression, hm?”

Welt nodded and dropped his head into his hands. Somehow, searching for Stellarons wasn’t as difficult as this. 

But he couldn’t deny, you sparked something in him and he was both afraid and intrigued by it.

[reotacchii]

Hi saw that your request was open can you please do a platonic Blade from hsr when reader is his little sister/brother, and Blade just loves them to death. I can see an overprotective Blade with his younger sibling.

Dream Lantern

・─ pairings : Blade x GN!reader

・─ synopsis : Headcanons of Blade and little siblings + fluff !!

・─ a/n : I'm truly grateful each day with all of wholesome request, thank you so much dear requester and hope you'll enjoy this one 💗! I'm not sure with how Blade would act since I just got to Luofu a day ago, and since we barely got info of his canon age.. I'll give you two separate headcanons with different range of age gap.

" A day of your arrival on this world, a bliss of happiness draw across a boy face. As soon as the boy saw your face, that when he knew he'll caring for you "

6-8 years old gap :

★ Everything you need is an instant obligation for Blade. He would literally treat you like a literal royalty to put in a sense, that show how much he cares and love for you.

★ Tired of walking? He'll piggyback you. Feeling hungry? He got you snack on his pocket (I rather believe he always bring your fav snacks anywhere he goes so in any case you're hungry, he could just summon it out of his pocket).

★ You are his only siblings, he'll do anything to reserve the world just for you.

★ Not even a thought ever came across his mind that you are a bothersome, he always find your company the most comforting, a relief even.

★ Whenever he came back from his mission, you'll makes sure to greet him with a hug (he almost got into a breakdown because you are so precious to him).

★ Your body are so small compare to his, but it's a good thing because you can literally clinging onto his leg.

★ Kafka also loves to hanging out with you, she even give you a beginner gunmanship lesson because you are Blade little siblings (Blade relatives privilege)

★ But oh boy.. Do Blade even agree to it? Heck he's a literal worrysome; what if you gotten hurt? You are still a child, Kafka shouldnt taught you that. Battle just didnt suited you, he'll rather have his hand dirty than seeing you involved in one.

★ But most of his thought are how much he wanted to spend times with you. Seeing someone else taking away your time to hangout with others does saddened him a bit.

★ "Put yourself to rest, Kafka. I will be the one to taught y/n the swordmanship"

★ "What a sudden outburst.. Just say you wanted to play with your little siblings~"

★ The age gap may not huge, but he always view and treat you as a baby

★ His cold death stare replied to Kafka remarks, but eventually we all know you'll both goes to play around together.

2-3 years age gap

★ The first time you joined Stellaron Hunter, he kinda opposed to your decision, but soon he'll accept it once he found out every mission will be including you involved in.

★ Every mission going so fun with you, it went very well that both of you receive a nickname as "The Hunter Siblings"; It just shows how powerful both of your dynamic are.

★ Though, he knows well you can fight well, yet he can be overprotective at a times.

★ You can be a bit reckless at a times, so it's his responsibility to get in charge if anything worst happens.

★ Also, he can't stand anyone near around you, even he cannot trust how the Stellaron Hunter member would acts around you. It's kind of like a delusion sprout that growing in his head and all he can think about is the worst scenarios.

★ To put much surprises for both Kafka and Silver Wolf is that,

★ He tend to do this to find your usual reaction of either embarrassed or slight annoyance. And what's annoying to you, its that Blade doesnt know a good timing to pull his jokes.

★ Blade actually pull a lot of jokes so much around you (mostly sass which you'll get used to it).

★ It became a habit between both of you to pull a playful tease and jokes around.

★ Even Kafka and Silver Wolf admitted to find it amusing due to your reaction on getting teased..

★ But without you notice, Blade does this a lot knowing you can be so nervous before the battle. He want to lighten up your mood before doing the job.

★ "What? The baby need to put their diaper on? If not, you are going to piss yourself in a battle" he sarcastically remarked, you swear you could hear his low chuckles; and the worst is he's doing it infront Kafka and all you can do is to hold yourself together.

★ "NOT INFRONT OF- DUMB BROTHER, I WILL KILL YOU!"

[hutaosfuneralparlor]

honkai star rail characters are so bi panic istg

like & reblogs are highly appreciated !!

[amruwa]

i'm sorry, but please wait for me.

dan heng x gn!reader.

summary: he loves you, but he feared that his memories would hurt you. as uncertainties swirled in his being, he looks into your hopeful gaze for the last time.

cw: angst, implied lovers, kissing, spoilers/lore-based, purposefully written in lowercase, not proofread, possibly ooc, written before 1.2 update, lmk if i missed anything else!

for years, danheng was afraid. terrified for his being, as he'd fear that his own past would reach him. he'd longed for peace, trying to vanish from the shackles of his homeplace's memories.

he had tried escaping his own reality, searching for a place that he could call home. as he wandered, danheng had finally found a crew that was willing to take him in, called the astral express. even so, the express had done little to ease his conflicting mind.

though his mind was disordered, you were there. as if your mere presence could dissipate his conflicted being, washing all away his uncertainties. but, he was afraid. he was afraid of his own past catching up to him, fearing that it would even hurt you.

as each day passes by, his love only grew for you, seemingly as if he found new reasons to love you. your sweetest smile and warmest embrace was enough to calm the raging storm inside his heart.

but, he didn't want to hurt you. not when he'd awoke to nightmares every night, seemingly as if it haunted him. cold sweat clings onto his skin, cascading his features as he pants heavily from the aftermath. images of his memories flashing through his nightmares, it only made him afraid.

he didn't want to lose you. not when his own power overwhelms him, causing him to be haunted of his own past everytime.

as he caught wind of the stellaron hunters' mission in xianzhou luofu, his heart sank. he had ran away, avoiding his homeplace. he felt so conflicted.

but, he knew that it'd be best, if he went on that mission in xianzhou luofu. he'd take any chance he could get, if it only meant that his uncertainties of his future with you, would eventually disappear. danheng had a flicker of hope inside him, hopefully wondering if it'd make a difference.

if it meant that he could stay with you forever, he must go on this mission.

"something's troubling you." you softly mumbled, gently resting your head against his shoulder as you mindlessly caress his hand.

his breath suddenly hitches, a troubled expression laced his features. you grew worried, the longer you gaze at him.

"what's wrong, danheng?" you quietly ask, lips slightly pursed as you await his response.

"y/n, i.." his voice trails off, uncertainties clouding his mind once more.

you gently cup his face within the crevices of your hands, a hint of concern was evident in your visage. danheng sighs shakily, gazing into your eyes.

"i must go on the mission in xianzhou luofu." the aloof man says quietly, slowly placing his he couldn't bear to meet your pained gaze, because he knew too well that it'd break his own heart.

your heart sank at his words, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes as you looked into his eyes, disbelief was written in your face.

"danheng, it's too dangerous.." your voice was shaky as each word leaving your lips had suddenly become hard. "i can't handle the thought of you leaving," you quietly mutter, tears cascading your cheeks.

"if it would mean coming back in your arms in peace, i have to." he reasoned with you, sincerity laced in his tone. his calloused, yet gentle hands make its way to caress your face, wiping away your tears.

"danheng, i don't want you to risk that." you admit, shaking your head as more tears streamed down your face. "i'm contented with what we currently have, please.."

"y/n, i don't want to risk losing you," he pauses, a defeated smile forms on his lips. "i'm sorry, please wait for me.." he says softly. he presses the softest kisses on each and every crevice of your face, as if he was engraving his love for you.

it pained him to leave you, it genuinely did. but, it was needed for you. he wanted nothing more, but to rest in your arms with no worries.

"please promise me." your voice finally broke, sobs leave your lips as you struggle to form coherent words. "...promise that you'd come back to me."

he gently kisses your tears away as he gazes deeply into yours, his own eyes held so many untold emotions.

he kisses atop your head, pulling you into the warmest embrace. his comforting warmth engulfed you entirely, seemingly as if he shielded you against all odds.

"i promise you, i will come back to you." he whispers, finally kissing your lips before he leaves.

but, in the end, he knew. he knew that no matter where he went. you were his home, his sanctuary, his peace. he wouldn't want to change that for anything in the universe.

[starhrtz]

— Cafe Love

01. Main Character Era

taglist. @astolary @artsycanongoer @baby-lisuga @lawlesshedgehog @sakiimeo @liminalimmortal @lunavixia @eunchaeluvr @microphobicidjits @captivq @thelonelyarchon @karma-gisa @ilocqua @whoskyatto @venyan @arraxthatsonjah @serenareiss @qwnelisa @sentieence @yohoo-tehee @childemoment @qtange @edgarlovebot @unknown-kitsxne @countessqin @phoenix-eclipses @runassimp @aludicpoet @mirophobic @nogenderbee @moretinyideas @tsukishiro-yue2402 @tkooooop @certaindreampost @knrejj

bolded tags means i cant tag you!!

a/n. Sorry guys... I lied abt the written chapter 🙏 I'll try writing a short one for the next chapter I SWEAR. (Lied)

masterlist | next