#calamity is my girl and she will always be my girl

[lanabenikosdoormat]

soloing azteca and khrysalis as an ice type beat

[darlingofvalyria]

❝I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage. I will not be swept aside.❞

[ The Prince Jacaerys Velaryon should have known his wife better— or at least, her ire, for when his trysts with the bastard Snow reached the Spiders and soon, the ears of his Princess Consort, rage and war drummed for Winterfell, demanding heads.

—Maestre Kevan, Volume IV of The Bastard Eater, passage chapter under 'The Flame that Sung for the North'. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 10,062 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), one-sided aegon ii x reader, jace x sara snow

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader, targcest, smut, angst - post-vizzy t death, rhaenyra is queen - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - allusions to infidelity & character death(s) - targaryen madness, revenge, domestic violence (not jace), unhinge behaviour, intense use of 'bastard', profanity, gaslighting, guilt-tripping - this is basically gone girl, you gone girl jace - dark fic - mentions of depression (aegon ii), allusions to suicide (not reader) - nsfw: oral (f receiving), breeding kink, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i didn't think i was going to do the sara snow thing, but herewe are. also i just wanted an excuse to go absolutely ape shit. reader gets very intense, like thoroughly unhinged. this is literally me supporting women's wrongs. it is also quite insane that this reached 10k and it's still just the first part lmaooo + comment, reblog & like at will!

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD! THAT GODSDAMNED, WHORE-FUCKING STRONG HALF BREED!"

Your shrieks echo stone and shadow, interrupted only by the things you pick up and hurl. Anything your hands grab, you throw and spit obscenities against, rage and tears ruin your pretty visage. The fury swept past your cherub features, a dragon breaking through the Hightower seams, upending fire and roar from the pits of your being.

"HOW DARE HE?! I GAVE HIM AN HEIR! I BROUGHT HIM PEACE! I BETRAYED—" you roar, pulling your pearl dagger— a gift from your Strong Bastard of a Husband — and throwing it to your vanity mirror, glass shards exploding. "— MY KIN!"

"DAUGHTER, PLEASE!"

Arms wound across your torso—hardened and chain-mail — as you fight against your bounds before a pain flashes to your cheek. Your rage quiets, hard breaths from your lungs. You turn your tear-stained anger to your mother and her palm, fright and terror on her regale visage.

Death of a spouse becomes the Queen Dowager in her pale blue robe and unbound spirals of auburn hair. Peace had begotten a realm that is balanced on the lineage you had produced for the Queen, her heir, and your own, as the new Princess of Dragonstone. With Otto Hightower for evermore banished to Oldtown, Kings Landing had been brought to a flowering kindness.

Queen Rhaenyra's ascension had been a wondrous affair, fit the for the first crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not a Queen Consort, not a Queen Regent. An heir who rose for the crown always meant to be hers.

But the calamity that brewed in her ascension... no. You paved the peace. T'was you who wrangled the Great Houses that proved allyship to your twin brother's banner, you who blessed her with tranquility of a rule that will be known for ages that will precede you all.

And now her son... her son dared to destroy everything.

A conversation floats above your head, by your Queen Mother and her sworn shield, the Ser Cole, but you barely hear anything past the ringing in your head.

The Targaryen Madness the sheep so call it, an idle voice, faint and familiar, whispers in the niches of your brain. It has infected you so. It breathes, fuelled by the air wrought by your husband's betrayal. It sings, sweet love. It sings.

"—your grace, I urge to hold her—"

"—she is my daughter, Ser Cole, I am not in danger. Release her."

Justice, the voice shrieks? Screams? But it is so soft in your head, a wail of a memory, a woman or a man? must be had. No dragon falls in such disgrace.

The tight wound over your torso is unleashed but the knight is not far, tensed to cage you, when your mother grasps your elbows as you grab hers, nails digging into the thick fabric of her hem that she still winces, your grip steel-tight.

"My darling, please. I cannot help you if you do not speak what ails you." She brushes her hand desperately across your face, smearing your tears, trying to find the daughter she bore past the savagery and madness that beholds you now. "What has happened?"

You draw a tightened, harsh breath to your lungs, rattling your bones that you quiver in your attempt for sanity.

"I am being shamed, mother," you whisper. Stark, violet eyes meeting the worried round, brown of hers. "The Strong bastard is whoring himself to another, a Northern bastard."

A cackle falls your lips as alarmed gazes are exchanged above your head.

"Y-You cannot say such things aloud, sweet girl," your mother hushes your madness, pulling you close to her chest as she shoots a glance at the door.

Criston checks outside, but only your maids linger. Dyanna presses a finger against her lips, catching the knight's eye, and the rest scatter, surely to make sure that no one that need not know of their mistress' words is within reach. A shiver still runs his spine. He will never get used to the quiet, almost non-verbal way your connection worked and reached. Your Spiders weave webs all around, even as their mistress sunders with rage.

"Mayhaps you are mistaken, for sure the prince is loyal, and he adores you—"

You pull back against her, teeth bared. She flinches and Ser Cole steps forward, wary. "It is the third missive now that I have received. Did you think I would not have confirmed twice— thrice? I didn't believe it the first time! But three people have now confirmed that all this time, in the guise of rallying his mother's cause in the North, he is spending ample time with the Lord Stark's bastard sister. His bastard fucking sister!"

Your mother's horror catches that of Ser Criston's, but your fury is your own, you are a dragon trapped in the ruin of your own making, of the webs you had spun so cleverly to get to this point, and you cannot stop.

"I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage, my blood spilled the birthing bed for it." A cry leaves your lips as your grief and rage pools like ichor from your chest to the floor. Alicent is torn away from you— your nails had gone through her robe and she had cried in pain, a mimick of your own, a mother to a daughter to a mother to a daughter, a cycle, an Ouroboros — and you fall to the floor, grasping at your chest.

"I will not be swept aside. I will not be ignored."

A gasp falls from your lips as your mind moves to a quiet, still place. The tremble fades, your rage and grief whirls, collects, as you push it all back inside your chest.

Your madness must be sharpened for it be used as a sword.

And you cannot let him be happy in another's arms.

If you cannot drag them to the Hells, sweet dragon, the idle voice hums, hisses? Screeches. Your ancestors— all of those who have succumbed to dreamy madness — appears in the corners of your vision like soldiers. Awaiting for you to join them. Awaiting the blood that you will spill.

Then you must raise the Hells unto Winterfell.

"...my daughter?" Alicent calls, hesitant. Cole hovers but does not approach, standing guard in protection of the Dowager. It breaks her heart to see you this way, a young woman still, much older than she was when she married but only because you had always sought your future. You had always had a hardened scale, far stronger than she.

Even when you made your entrance to the world— the unmeasurable pain of bringing not one, but two heirs into the world, her firstborns, all at once — you had never cried. The maestres, maids, they worried for you, as your twin brother had not stopped crying, so alive and red, raw from the wound of being fresh.

But you... you had not made a sound.

The entire weight of your being— your mind, your emotions — even then, you wrangled them close to your very centre, never letting them stray too far from the edges of your fingertips. As if any release must be made with a perused thought. An incentive of reason.

Even then, you plotted every step you took.

Now, Alicent watches as her firstborn daughter suctions all her emotions— that Targaryen madness that plagued the blood of her husband, his ancestors — and made her ploy.

Against the husband that dared make a fool of her.

The silence beckons nightmare. Old fear flickers inside the Queen Dowager.

"Where are my daughters?"

"What?"

"My daughters," you repeat, a hair's breadth louder than the first time you spoke. Your eyes flutter upward. The deadened gaze curled Alicent's heart in fear. "Where are they?"

"In the nursery, with the twins and Maelor. Helaena and Aegon are watching them."

You offer your hand up mutely, and Cole exchanges one last, lingering look with the Dowager, before offering his own. You stand up, thank him softly, and brush and clean up your face to the best of your ability. An utter calmness over your visage.

"Tell no one of what I had told you," you say, fixing your hair and rubbing the red from your cheeks. One minute there is madness, the next there is nothing. There is only a girl. A woman. A princess. "No one knows apart the three of us, and if you ever decide, Ser Criston, that nigh is the glorious time for you to betray my mother or I, know that the last thing thing oyu will fear is the Stranger's hand when I am through with you."

Your mother shouts your name, horrified. "What are you thinking? What are you plotting?"

You cup Alicent's face, smiling ever sweet. "Your innocence will keep you safe, mother. All I ask, for the heart you keep for your children, that you keep this between sealed lips and tilted chin. You know nothing, yes?"

"... Yes. Nothing."

You place a tender kiss on your mother's head. "Keep Daenera and Aemma safe for me. Aegon and I are flying to Dragonstone promptly. Sweet Helaena does ever so get overwhelmed by watching all of the children by herself."

"D-Dragonstone?"

Your sweet smile touched with poison, stretches. "It is high time I take a dragon for myself, don't you think so?"

While an insecure obsession had fraught your younger brother about claiming a dragon, you had met it with indifference.

For how can you not mourn the loss of Aemond's sight, staring in quiet horror the entire time as the maestre did his best to salvage the muck mess of blood and nerve endings, before the old man had shaken his head, and you turned to the small bowl that contained your brother's eye, unable to look at anything else.

Not even when your mother's rage was met with apathy and anger, her demands for justice nothing more than a woman's insanity, a mother's grief that must be swept away, tucked under a chin and a sadness she will never get rid of.

"Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

Your soft-hearted, darling, baby brother. None of his words had thawed the freezing of your heart, the grief under the swell of your breastbone.

Your own mourning was kept between teeth and tongue, as you had slept with your siblings that night. The four of you, tucked under the wing of the other, Aemond close to your chest as possible, as quiet, hot tears ran down your face. Every moan of pain or whimper he made in his sleep tore at each new vein inside of you.

"Dragons are the symbol of our House's power," Aegon had once said, windswept hair you tried to tame with your fingers, smelling fresh of Sunfyre and winds.

"And yet, there were no eggs in our child beds." He stiffened while you smiled sadly, curling your twin's hair away form his face, making him presentable and dusting the bout of sand that managed to find his leathers. You had been scolded long before by your grandsire of how you coddle Aegon, how you defend him, mother him more than your mother ever could, but you cannot stop. You were meant to care for him, tethered you once were inside your mother's womb together, you hold him steady now.

Whenever he was lost, whenever his sadness overtook him, wrung your brother dry of life, you bat the Stranger's hand and bring him back.

"But we have proved them wrong," he insisted. "All of us, even Aemond with Vhagar— the war queen, Visenya's dragon — we have claimed ours. Daeron all the way Oldtown has Tessarion, even Helaena has Dreamfyre. And yet you insist..."

You wound your arms over his torso, keeping him close in a silly hug where you sway and dance him around. A laugh escaped him while you inhaled the scent of smoke, soot, and that grime stench of beast.

Aegon on his good days lacked the bottle-edge of wine, of cheap salts from the waft of the soiled, Silk Streets.

This was your brother. No one else.

"I fare better without one," you whispered in his ear. "I appear innocent, sweet almost, without a beast in my command. They look at me with nothing but pity and the urge to protect me. Our father likes me like this, his poor, lovely daughter without a dragon of her own, listening so intently to his histories of Old Valyria. Our sister is eased, as one daughter is plagued by dreams and struggles with the real world, while the other cannot even claim a dragon of her own. Poor princess, Hightower blood must have thickened in her veins. She too, is no threat."

You pulled back, smiling at him. "They like me better like this. Pitiful, compliant, nothing but a sweet and pretty flower that sways in the Spring breeze. A beautiful decoration but no more."

He rubbed a thumb on your arm, a worry knot on his forehead. Aegon adored you but he struggled to piece together where your plot lies. You are a web-spinner, forever dancing out of reach, catching prey and lengthening your intricacies. "Is that why you hide your training with Aemond alone? Ser Criston is mother's sworn shield, he would not mind—"

"I will not place my secrecies to a knight with a soiled cloaked," you snorted. "No matter how tall he stands beside our mother. I trust no one but my kin. And I know that no matter how heavy you drink, sweet Aeg of mine, my secrets are your own."

He took your hand, kissing the back of it, stare impregnable. "As your blood is my own, our fire is one flame. I go where you tell me to."

You kissed his cheek, a reward, laughing. He smiles proudly at the sound. At this time, you dangled yourself to your brother as bait as the pressure from your grandsire to make him King started rising. You had been given notice that he had been talking to House Lannister, Wylde, even some Riverland lords.

You did not mind becoming Aegon's second wife. Just as his namesake, he will have his Rhaenys and Visenya. Unlike the Conqueror however, he would adore his Visenya more than a true flower. Helaena would enjoy that far better.

"And if I tell you to jump?" you half-purred.

"I will ask you how high."

Memories and choices break and tide as you scramble for hold on the rocky cliff face. Dragonmont in the dark is a behemoth beast, a screech or two breaking like lightning crackles, or the familiar drum beat of wings before the silence consumes once more. The stench of fire, of beasts and carcasses helps cloak the darkened night.

"Udligon ñuha brōzagon, Answer my call," you hiss into fraudulent emptiness, hands gripping rocky edges until your blood beads, "you fucking lizards."

"Have you gone mad!?"Aegon shouted, trying to pace with your run to the dragonpit.

A rocky laugh broke out from your being, not deigning that with a reply. Aegon huffed angrily.

"Alright, tell me this then. How are you so sure I'm not just about to put you on a bleeding volcano to die? We claim your dragon in the morn, sister. First thing before we break our fast. I'm sure by then, Vermithor or—"

You whipped your head around, pulling halt. "I leave tonight to claim my dragon. Whether it is you and Sunfyre who gets me there, or Aemond and Vhagar, is no matter to me. I will claim one tonight. It is up to you to decide now if we tell Aemond or not."

Aemond, whose anger is wounded tight, the barest excuse for war always at the edge of his hum. The misstep at Storm's End had cost him everything. Had cost your mother everything. Queen still, Alicent Hightower had bent the knee and offered her life in exchange for mercy. Before Rhaenyra passed judgement, Viserys I had passed.

It didn't matter that you had ensured a higher dosage from the Harrenhal witch in his usual milk of the poppy. Your spiders moving with ease through the silent channels you had established long before your own flowering.

The Red Keep had scrambled, the Heir with it. It was enough time for Lucerys to have come out of the red, confirmed to live through the worst of it without as much as a broken bone. Arrax however, had been badly maimed, and would no longer take flight. But he and his rider would live. Aemond would live. Alicent would have her son. Rhaenyea will have hers, and the crown.

Kevan had done his duty unto you while you settled the storms in Dragonstone. You rewarded him handsomely.

Aegon sighed. He too, would like your honour avenged, but not for the sake of war. "As you wish, sister. I hope you know what you're doing and I am not about to send you to your death."

Just like what you did to your mother, you reached forward and cupped his face. If before, your touch stills his heart and floods his cavities with warmth, a flash of fear strikes the twin son at the eerie smile on your face.

"Skoros morghot vestri? What do we say to the god of death?"

Aegon blinked. "Tubī daor. Not today."

You smiled. "Trust me, sweet Aeg. It is not my death the Stranger will take. Not until the fjords of the North are at my mercy."

"Iksan kesīr sir naejot māzigon ñuha sikagon pakto! I am here now to claim my birth right!" Your scream echoes and falls, repeating back to you. There is a hum, like an electric current that sizzles and pops inside your blood and marrow, and you scramble higher and higher on the rock. Your blood does not sing for the dragon lairs, but above. Up and up, jagged edges cut your skin and dress, the wind whipping with sea mist, but nothing, no one, can clamour you as you reach the peak.

At first you see nothing but darkness and hollow sounds. But you let your eyes adjust, a hiss breaking out of your dry lips as you stumble. You look down. What you first thought were rocks and wayward bones of cattle is bigger.

Whale? No.

Dragon. Dragon bone.

You look and will every sense that your eyes do not. The smell that is drowned— iron. Bones bigger than a person. Than cows and whales. Bones of fearsome beasts. Darkness moves, taking form, more than shadow. Scales hewn rough and jagged, as if stone themselves. Midnight black moving with the gentlest of sighs.

As soon as you realise what— or who — is in front of you, the eyes open with an intelligent gleam. Your heart jolts at the emerald irises that gaze back at you, slitting at the appearance of a human.

'The stench of death follows him', the voice of an old keeper hums into your ear. You no longer remember who told this to you, but the words ring true in your memory. 'Scales of midnight, as if hewn from darkness and death. A harbinger, your grace, an omen of the darkest nightmares.'

"Rytsas. Hello." You smile, ever sweet, ever charming.

This is a thread you had never felt before. Not one of your own making, but something older. A golden thread that led the eyes of Daenys the Dreamer. That spun the ties of Aegon the Conqueror. The voices that herded your madness had gone quiet in the mad rush to get here, but now their presence thickens. Words you cannot hear, nor understand, flood the silence as dragon met rider for the first time.

Keepers and historians have called him he, but every bone in your body tells you that the being before you is a she.

And wouldn't that make sense? A cannibalistic being is a woman?

She opens her maw, only ever slightly, smoke and fire crackling out of it. Molten lava in the belly of her insides tease the cool, night air and warms you.

Her version of a smile. Hello, she seem to say.

"Māzīs. Come," you say, giggling. "Dohaerās. Serve."

That night, you took your first flight.

That night, the Cannibal took her first flight with her first— and only — rider as well.

❝ . . . It is said that the formerly named "The Cannibal" had been entranced by the hunger of his new— first and evermore — rider. Prince Aegon the Elder who had escorted his twin sister that very night with Sunfyre, had looked up in alarm and fright to a maddened screech. Excitement and laughter pouring out from the newly bonded Dragon and Rider had soon turned fear into awe.

Gaelithox, she had been named as they had ridden until dawn broke by the rider who loved her 'till the end of their days, was said to have seen a mirror in Her Grace. The fathomless hunger for blood and organ from the same bodies of their kin. For Gaelithox ever hungers and satisfies for the same meat as her, at the height of her grief and ire that fuelled the Queen Consort to climb Dragonmont by hand, she too hungered for the throats of her traitorous blood.

Gaelithox will only have one rider in her whole life, as she found no same twin soul as akin in the Bastard Eater Queen. Their bond moved as if two bodies beheld one soul.

She shied from humans, and oft found too rough with other dragons. Vhagar was an exception, oft seen acting as an elder sister to the Queen's dragon when neither royal rode them and played in the skies. Smaller dragons were forbidden to approach her however, nor was she allowed in the dragonpit after almost devouring the flightless Arrax.

She died two moons after the Queen's death, delivering her final flames for her rider and would never more breathe her infamous green flames akin to Wildfire, ordered by the Crowned Heir, Princess Daenera Velaryon. It is said that the princess attempted to bond with the cannibalistic dragon but it refused.

The dragon spent her last moons in heartbreak, oft seen in Dragonstone and the Red Keep, circling her rider's most favourite places. Her final resting place is at the very top of Dragonmont from whence the Queen claimed her. It is said that the Queen's crown, the one the King Jacaerys had gifted her after the birth of their first sons, the Princes Laenor and Gaemon, is said to be placed there, as well as a portion of her ashes.

It is said that the King and the Queen's twin brother, the Prince Aegon, personally made the trek in remembrance.

It is widely suspected that Aelyx, Princess Daella's dragon, the youngest child of the King and Queen, may have been Gaelithox's only existing hatchling for he too is made of rough, midnight scales. The dragon that bred with her remains to be unknown. ❞

—Maestre Kevan Noratz, Volume X of The Life and Lies of the Emerald Flame, passage chapter under 'The Time of Hunger: Gaelithox'.

You leave Gaelithox to a mournful goodbye on Dragonstone, pressing your forehead against her hard, scaly head, promising to come back, of exchanging her diet for fat, juicy whales, for more wind-whipped rides, before riding back on Sunfyre with Aegon. The younger dragon would not rise from the beaches in fear of the cannibalistic elder, but you made ensuring promises to teach Gaelithox not to chew your dearest brother's dragon.

You had gone most of your life without the feeling of a bond beneath you, warm and alive and wild, and the roar and stench that though new, felt so familiar in your ribcage— you will fly again. And with your brothers beside you. With Helaena and her lovely Dreamfyre.

To think they had taken this from you too, to placate them. To play into their hands like a mewling kitten.

No more.

It is paces before fast is about to break when you both touch back down to Kings Landing. The Keep busying with its occupants, servants and maids bolstering with quickened feet to ensure the lords and royals are awakened with full, poached meals, dresses and coats readied for their lords and ladies, a new, glorious day under the Reign of the Black Queen.

"What now?" Aegon asks, trying to keep with your pace but he is fatigued, failing to stop his yawns. The excitement of last night had come upon him like a fog, and he is missing his bed. Hells, he is missing the bed he stays with his wife if it meant he would get a full night's sleep in the hours of the day.

"Now, we speak nothing of what happened."

He turns to you, frowning. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." You beam, nodding in favour of soldiers and maids who bow in reverence to the Crown Princess. You know you smell of dragon and night, and you need a bath. And to talk to Dyanna before you seek your daughters. "I will need time and people. The board must still be set for me to perfectly execute what I have in store."

"Alright." He yawns again. "I'll be in my quarters, passed out, if you need me. Please do not need me until sup."

You laugh breathlessly, grabbing his hand and giving it a wet kiss. "I will give you your rest, be assured. Kirimvose, dōna lēkia, Thank you, sweet brother."

The words are simple, said in a quiet murmur heavy with love and meaning. Aegon presses a loving kiss to your head, unable to stop himself winding an arm around you.

"Syt ao, va moriot, ñuha prūmia. For you, always, my heart."

As you break to each other's chambers— his, to sleep, you, already meeting Yna and requesting for a bath — you don't notice the lurker that watched the intimate moment between twins, humming in amusement before it moves to follow you.

Back in your quarters— your marriage quarters as Jacaerys had requested that you forgo having your own, not wishing to part with you — the maids are already busying themselves airing the room, moving to follow your usual routine. The only thing breaking it is the tub now in the centre.

"Thank you," you say to Yna as she picks out the pins from your hair, shrugging off your dress in the process as soon as the maids had untangled the lace behind you.

"Call for Dyanna," you tell them as they bow and leave, the door clicking softly behind them. Plans must be made. Bath for now.

With the world stifled for a second, left with only you and your thoughts, you plunge your body under too-hot water, sighing  against the aches and pains in your body. Dragon-riding is a new endeavour to your muscles, and though enjoyable, was still too new.

You sigh as tears fall from your eyes, blinking exhaustedly against soft, humming daylight. You had always known that love, as it is, is a maiden's folly. A foolish, hapless play meant to fool young girls into thinking the world is kind; a pretty place.

It was an even farther thought from you, a princess of the realm. At a young age, it has been drilled to you that your womb is a rare commodity. Your body has never been your own, a piece meant to be moved in a bigger game that you are used for, not play.

You weren't stupid.

If there's a few things Otto Hightower had ever granted you, apart from gifting you his keen prowess in moving power beneath your fingertips, in hungering for more, for better— it is understanding what each person is, who they can be, how you can move them. A flatter, a flair, a push. As a man, there is much to be desired about your grandsire; he used people, used family to pursue power, but you can't truly fault him for that as you were the same.

You just took better care of the people under your wing.

And for Jace, you had banished him.

The worst part, you knew there was a good, fat chance you would care for the princeling. He was a kind man, a sweet man, and with a guiding hand, you could forge yourself the best husband for yourself as much as you can mould a great king and a wonderful father. Women's hands are ever carved to mould and prod men. We stand behind, a presence or a hand, an echo of power.

But your Jace had surpassed it all, and in the moons leading up to your present day, to giving him his heirs, two beautiful daughters, the promised full Valyrian colouring in the silver hair in Daenera, your eldest, the wide, violet gaze in Aemma— the name of his mother's mother, a request of him that you had kindly, graciously fucking agreed to — of course there is a part of you, the girlish, tender heart that you long thought you had buried to get here, would fall for the brown-eyed, wondrous man.

You sink deeper into the tub, sighing as you let yourself unravel—

When you feel it. A presence in your room. It's soft. Silent. Not a lot would feel as such, but as paranoid as you are, as you keep your spiders clean and pretty with your dewy-eyed webs— you know better.

Your mind runs with ideas on who it might be, and come to a few people. No true name rises. The Red Keep is flooded with spies and traitors. You test your luck, sitting up on the tub, raising an arm over the lip of it and flicking water with your fingertips.

"If you are here to kill me, I'm afraid it will be a lost cause."

He laughs, sardonic and edged and familiar, jetting a tingle down your spine.

Well. There's getting a calm bath.

"Perceptive as always, niece," he says, heavy footfalls approaching now that he has been caught. "I'm just here to say hello."

You raise your eyes, mouth curled but unsmiling at the man who acts as the biggest thorn to your plots. Daemon Targaryen has never fallen through your webs, on guard against your flatter, your push, or your flair. Of course, taking the position of his daughter might have forever burnt that road, but you would think he'd ease up just a little bit when his wife, the Queen, had warmed to you considerably.

Unlike your mother, you had never been hostile to your bitch of an elder sister. Just like your plots for Aegon and Jacaerys, and nodding along to thread your father had started but abandoned, foolishly thinking the realm would follow without him fully ensuring your sister's claim to the throne— you carefully maintained a polite farce with Rhaenyra.

Ultimately, this became a boon to you, as she had responded positively to your abrupt marriage to her son, even reminding her deranged guard dog of their own marriage. The cream to your lemon cake had been when you birthed Aemma, the Queen's most favourite grandchild thus far. When she was a babe, Rhaenyra was never far; almost, always holding your daughter, cooing at her cheeks, remarking her likeness to her namesake with pure fondness.

But Daemon Targaryen knew, in the deepness of his marrow, that there is something wrong with you.

"Hello," you answer primly. He laughs, leaning against the passage to your open balcony. "We could have had this elating greeting at fast, if you wish to break it with me and my own."

He scoffs, unable to hide his disdain at the thought. It breaks his stare of your naked visage. Men. "I would rather jump to the fighting pits, good daughter."

"How rude. Is that all?" You meet his gaze steadily, tilting your head. "If it is not obvious yet, good father, I am bathing."

An amused smirk. "I can see that." Lecherous fucking geezer. "No matter. I just have a... curious thought, a wonder I suspect you may be able to answer. See. Truly odd it is, for the keepers to alert me this morning that Sunfyre had taken a ride past the Hour of Owl." Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you do your best to keep your expression mildly irritated. "Not with one, drunken rider, but with another. It had taken them hours, only coming back when morning had already presented in the air."

He steps forward, slow, menacing, until he reaches the edge of your tub and crouches. Your gazes are still unmatched in height, defiant as yours might be.

"The distinct smell wafts them, a Keeper said, and one suspects that though one dragon left last night, two might have come back this morning for he had seen another fly away." His fingers dips into the water, swirling the steam without breaking eye contact. "I wonder if you know anything about it, darling niece of mine."

The mocking emphasis is not lost on you. If the Queen is the Realm's Delight, you were Darling of the Realm. A sweet, merry girl, the secondborn daughter of Viserys I who frequently fought for the plight of the small folk, who gathered friends of all kinds of lords and ladies no matter the standing of their houses to her own, visiting far lands and charming every person in any room. Who made any feast brighter, always sparkling, always the darling.

Less of a dragon, more of a fairytale.

You sit up, leaning, baring your breasts completely to him as you pull yourself up on the ledge he is crouched from. He leans back, only slightly, as you smile demurely. Sweet. Tart. On the edge of pulling his head and hitting it against the copper tub.

"I am unsure of what you suspect, or is accusing me of, kepus, uncle," you purr and there's a twitch in his mouth, a widen in his irises— men are so fucking simple — "I had been feeling down last night, as my husband, as you know, is beyond my reach at the moment as he rallies alliances for the good of the realm. My brother had simply offered to take me out riding, trying to quell my loneliness with an excitable flight I had never been afforded."

You tilt your head. "Even if there had been a dragon binded to my own, why why would I not regale the realm with news of my success? I have longed for a dragon of my own, but alas, I have not quite succeeded where most of the family have." You pout. His eyes flicker. "Mayhaps I am more Hightower than I am Targaryen."

A huff leaves his lips, the amusement in his smile arching to his dark, dark gaze. Before you can react, his hand had comes forward to hold your chin in a tight grip, your jaw aching soon enough at the fingers that dig against your skin, wanting to bruise, to break.

Though a tremble passes your body, you keep his stare, gritting your teeth as the pad of his thumb brushes your lips. Moments and desires thrum between a charged hatred.

The lust is twisted from wanting to fuck you to wanting to kill you. The line is not simple. Maybe that is your fate together.

But he can't. You are well too ingrained in his family now, loved by the people he cared about. You are untouchable. For now. This is a warning, waiting for you to stutter, to show your hand. Any show of your true intentions... he is more than happy to swing Dark Sister across your throat.

He releases you without another word, standing up and leaving through the front door, the door clicking shut.

You sink back into the bath, letting the water engulf you.

Your daughters are moons apart in birth, and there are only a few differences between them that people oft remarked they could be twins. Daenera is taller, spindly. Built like Aemond when he was younger. Her hair is spun moon and eyes of mullish blue. It reminds you of Daeron's eyes. You had named Daenera yourself, a gruelling birth that took the entire night. You promised Jacaerys he could name the second. He had chosen Aemma for a girl, Laenor for a boy.

Not a few moons later, you were with child again. Your husband pinked at the cheeks at the chiding from his family. When she cried into the afternoon sun—Aemma was born mid day, during a council meeting — he pain did not stop the laugh that came out of your mouth from the horrified expression from the Master of Coin as your water broke.

Aemma had a sweetheart face, cheeks much fatter than her older sister's, with a yellowish tinge to her hair, curlier too, reminding you of Aegon. And Aemma laughed more, her deep, violet eyes always half closed as she exploded in giggles and bright, sunshine happiness.

Sons they might not be, but you had given heirs for the throne. And for them, you would do anything to keep their futures intact. Bond with a dragon, face the Rogue Prince, upheave Winterfell. Anything.

You flounce to the nursery where you know the two would be, smiling sweetly at every person you pass as they bow in reverence. Most wore sights of confusion, their greedy eyes and wagging tongues drinking in the deep, emerald glisten of your gown.

It's an old dress, one you keep in the corner of your collection. It isn't as if you had forgo the colours of your mother's house, but playing court meant every movement, even the clothes you wear, can be meaningful. And since your marriage, your Jace liked you in Velaryon colours.

"A goddess come to bless," he gasped against your collarbone, keeping your legs high on his waist as he rutted into you before his teeth sunk on your skin. As newlyweds go, there is not a lot of teasing to be had for your husband to curl against you in a darkened alcove. Merely wearing his favourite colour on your skin has him panting like a dog. His favourite dress is a seafoam blue that dragged longer against the ground in a soft, almost-gossamer material with a silver belt.

Enticing him never took long, but you enjoyed the dance presented. You enjoyed the dark hunger that filled him until he grabbed you to take you because he just had to take you.

The fresh wound slices deeper as you imagine all the things Jacaerys is doing to the so called Sara Snow. The emerald green of your gown shimmers with your anger.

"Fucking bastards," you can't help but say aloud, nodding at the guards posted on the nursery as you hear the squeals of your daughter and the calm, even voice of your brother.

"Muña! Mother!" Aemma squeals, untangling herself from being pressed against Aegon's side as the children— Daenera and Jaehaera — cuddle around him, before running to you. Helaena is on the floor, entertaining baby Maelor. Your mother, hands twisting against her own, stands vigil by the window, staring far ahead.

You catch your secondborn, giggling as you pressed kiss after kiss on her face.

"I see everyone has started without me. Where is Jaehaerys?"

"You were late, sodjisto, aunt," Jaehaera grins gummily. Jahaera is only a year older than Daenera. Your daughters, five and a half and five respectively. "Jaehaerys is with kepus, uncle. They are training."

"Smart girl." You meet your brother's gaze, whose eyes had notably been staring at your dress, mouth turned down. "Why don't you three play with Helaena? I shall speak about Name Day gifts for your Uncle Joffrey for a bit, hm?"

As Aemma shrieks something about cakes, and Daenera dutifully kissing your cheek in greeting before she takes Jaehaera's hand, you turn to your brother and mother.

"Aemond?" you ask softly, keeping your voice out of earshot. Alicent shakes her head. You nod. "Good. We don't want him inciting a war before I have mine properly planned."

As the Dowager draws in a sharp inhale, Aegon grabs your hands, the worry pulled taunt in his eyebrows. "Are you seriously contemplating war, sister? Isn't there a better way to punish them?"

"What punishment does a man regale in?" you hiss, stepping close to him. "Or the Queen's heir for the bloody matter? When Aemond nearly killed Lucerys, and he confronted me as if I had ordered Vhagar to tear through his brother, I thought I had put to bed any doubts in our marriage. It seems that men stray, regardless. My daughters may be his heir now, but what is to say that bastard wildling he's found himself cock deep in produces a son? Will he shame me with a mistress? Or will he shame me with a second wife?"

Your mother's lips tightens, her fingers paling at how tight she is gripping her nerves.

"Bastard or not, if he takes her to wife, I will be nothing. Make that babe a son, and the realm will rally for it. Daenera is his heir. My daughters will not be forgone. I will not be pushed aside. This is mercy, brother," you say softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "My last one. It requires time, moons, to unfurl. It requires seeding doubt and unfathomable inadequacy. Better if Aemond is none the wiser, Helaena the same. But I will need both of you for this to work. It is the only time I will ever ask. For me. For my daughters."

"And you will punish Winterfell with a war?" your mother asks, frown pulled deep. "That is the plan?"

"I will not. I won't do such a thing so blatant, mother, you know me better than that. But this is my last mercy, and it will be the last. For the next time he offends me so, I do not care if Rhaenyra feeds me to Syrax. I will put a dagger through his heart, heir or not."

The Prince Jacaerys comes back not a week later. Though he comes back to the same castle with the same occupants— your shiny new threads gleam. The stage has been set, a play ready to act. You had sent more spiders in the North, keeping a close eye to every blasphemy your husband has been enjoying in the absence of his duties, and as the rage in you quietly grew with each new whisper, your determination hardens.

You mark each indescretion. You keep a tally.

You count for each fall your blow will land on him.

Vermax lands with a screech and a heavy thump, your husband leaping off him with a grin on his face, matching the one you own, waving your arm joyously with Aemma in your arm and Daenera beside you, holding to your skirt as she grinned at her father.

Aemma wiggles under your hold, and you let Jace get close enough before you set her down, laughing, "Okay, okay!" Her laughter carries through as she scrambles like a bull to her father. A squeal peals out of her as Jace picks her up just in time and tosses her in the air.

"Want to meet kepa, father, sweet girl?" you whisper to Daenera, running a hand down her hair before she nods, breaking out into her own sprint, hugging her father as he greets them with laughter and kisses.

You let them have their time, and this, at least, eases your heart truthfully. A kind reminder that Jace adores his daughters.

You stay at the edge of the entrance, your too-wide grin softens into a smile. You were dramatic, nothing new about that, but even in the pale, pearl blue of your dress in silky, Myrish lace, the emeralds in your heavy, golden belt winks. Green ribbons twisted in your hair alongside fresh flowers. When the trio of your family treks toward you, silver-haired babes clinging to your dark haired prince, you serve a wink at the girls and they untangle themselves from their father while you stepped forward.

A choreographed dance, not giving him time to think. To pause.

Every step is calculated, every item on your body— the silk, the small seahorse that locks your dress behind you, the tint on your lips to the oil in your hair and body — is made to perform. You engulf him in you as if you want to suffocate his senses, your arms wrapping around him with sweet kisses pressing on his face, his neck.

Most in the dragonpit looked away, others, scandalously amazed and enchanted, watch as the princess is undeniably enthralled with her lord husband.

His laughter rumbles across his body, infecting your own, smelling of dragonback and crisp winds. You wonder if your nose is more heightened, you would be able to smell his whore in him, but you don't. It's just him. Your Jace.

Your body moulds against his as his arms tightens around you. When you lean back, you sweetly press a chaste kiss on his lips, grinning.

"What is this?" he huffs a laugh, meeting your doeful gaze. Your fingers curl around his chin, his cheek, idly tapping and touching as if you are committing so much newness to memory.

"Kostagon iā ābrazȳrys daor jaelagon zirȳla valzȳrys? Can a wife not want her husband?" you ask softly, pressing a few more kisses before sucking the last one just under his ear. His body shudders. You hide your smirk. "Skori ēza issare qrīdrughagon tolī bōsa? When he has been away too long?"

A yearning look tints your gaze from under your lashes, and you have to stifle the winning smirk as guilt pinches his face.

"My apologies, my wife. I did not mean to be away from you for long. From the girls." As his eyes flick to his daughters, your mask momentarily sharpens into clear distaste. The urge to dig your fingers into his eyes until he is bleeding and screaming under you is one you tamper with great distress.

Did not mean...

Did not mean to have a dalliance with another woman?

Did not mean to fall into bed with a fucking bastard, you insidious cunt, while I await here with your heirs?

Your anger thrums, nestled deep in your heart, it breathes. You school your face the moment he turns back to you, bringing your hands to his lips, kissing each finger with reverent tenderness. His brown eyes smoulder, rubbing your bare— irises widening — back.

"If you wish it, I can be on my knees for my apologies, my princess."

Your mouth curls. "I'm afraid that might have to be quite later, my prince."

"Huh?"

"The Dowager Queen hoped to congratulate you on your successful campaigning. Reaching as far as the North so frequently, we planned a feast for your return." Eyes shinning, you cup his face. You hope the guilt eats him raw from the inside out. Like worms. Like termites. Hungry, hungry, hungry. "We have never been more proud of you, I have never been more proud of you."

You laugh brightly, ignoring the way he squeezed you just a bit harder that mere second the same time his eyes tightened. "The moment I told the girls of it, they had begged to dance with you." Then you bit your lip, frowning slightly. "I... I understand if you are tired, 'tis a long journey after all, I did try to tell them you might want to rest, we can sneak you—"

"No, no, my heart, of course I would be happy to, I— I want nothing more." He brings you close, face disappearing into your neck. "Thank you. I love you."

You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. "As I love you."

For the rest of the feast, you dance just at the edges of his fingertips, ensuring that you permeated his sights and senses despite it. A game. A dance. When he thanks revelries who congratulate him, who ask him of his adventures, you proudly stand beside him, dutiful as the wife that you are, spearing him with compliments as much as you can. Hands squeezing his arm, your oils swallowing him with your smell.

When dinner came, you take chances massaging his thigh, sliding a salacious grin that had him blushing, ever so sweet, green— making you wonder what kind of fucking bastards do that he finds your attention so swallowing.

You don't let up.

Whenever he, in turn made a move, you sidestep, flutter a smirk, a wink; always escaping, letting him grow frustrated as the night went on.

Your one respite from taunting him had been when he danced with his daughters, making a gallant show of asking them, even Jaehaera. Giggles and spins, the ladies of the court fawn and coo.

Even now, you're making him to be the perfect man. The endearing husband, the wondrous father, the brilliant prince, the perfect lord.

To execute your plan, it must be made with a surgical precision. A slice that guts him to his knees, that breaks his spirit and quenches the whispering, wicked madness nestling with your ire. On another cheek, he must remain upright and upstanding, as to keep your daughters' future in perfect order.

You catch the domineering gaze of Daemon Targaryen, idle as he is, on the side of his distracted Queen, talking to a highborn lady. You don't look away as you toast him your cup of Arbour Red before you pucker your lips for a taste. Your eyes move to where your husband is already looking, flushed red and sweaty from all the dancing, your girls, preening and giggling around him.

You tilt your chin at him, a challenge in your gaze, before you slowly pull your lips away from your wine, stained red.

His throat bobs.

It will be a long, arduous game. Full of pitfalls and tightened webbing. One trip can kill you. But once the machinations are in order, once everything and everyone is in their proper places... oh, you cannot wait for the dance the dragons will make.

A flutter, a simpered footstep. Then a rustle of a dress as one bows.

"My lady," Dyanna greets behind you.

"Hm?"

"The spiders in the ice have met the pup in the snow."

"And?"

"The pup is not suspicious, in fact, they might go as far as to say that the pup is lonely. Though others largely understand her existence... no one likes a bastard."

You snort. "No, they don't, do they?"

"The wolf cares for the pup though, and is largely protective of his only sister."

"Hm. Complicated, but not impossible. Have Meera change the tone of my missive. A softer edge. Sweet but not overtly. Ensure the prerogative of politeness. Then have it sent to the Rookery. The proper channels."

You sigh, taking the edge of your braid and twisting through the ribbons your maid tangled between them. Tonight, you had elected Targaryen colours. A black dress akin to scales and a low, exposed back and dipping front, held together in red ribbons and silver chains. One that might be too on the nose, but the constant, feverish stares from your husband made it worth it.

"We have to ensure a good relationship with the Warden of the North, don't you think so?" You have not looked away from your husband since your maid came, and as he whispered something in Daenera's ear, nodding off to her grandmother with Aemma towed, he turned towards you, one stride after another.

"Precisely what I thought, milady."

"Go," you order her for the last time, giving her your cup, just before Jacaerys reaches you.

Game, set.

Worshipping you has always been something Jace excelled at. At the least, his cock was much larger than most, and without the preparation of his tongue and mouth, it burned. At most, he oft found himself holding your shaking thighs, your head and shoulders left on the bed as he feasted on you like a man starved, hungered for your nectar, the sounds you make, and the shaking of your body as you reached your peak on his tongue.

"J-Jace, please, I—" Your breath stutters, a hiccup escaping your mouth, but he is not letting up. On his knees as only a lordling can with his back straight, he is holding your thighs, your lower back, eating your cunny for the third time of the night.

As soon as he had reached you, he grasped your waist, whispering against your hair in a rumbled groan, "You are torturing me so, my wife. We leave. Now."

"Now?" you echoed, amused. "This is a feast in your honour."

"My honour is already hanging by a thread. The revelry will go on without us. I want to have my fill of you."

And fill he had. He didn't even wait to get you out of your dress before he had pushed your skirt upward, gone on his knees, and got his tongue inside of you.

Now, you are overwhelmed, overstimulated as you are hazy, gripping the wrecked sheets as your peak reached you once more. A strangled, breathy cry of his name falls between your lips as your back arched impossibly so, and instead of letting up, this seemed to fuel him harder, the muscle of his mouth working harder inside of your cunt, hands digging into your flesh to keep you steady.

It builds with a stimulation unending, and just as you're on the throes of your last high, it builds again, quick and fast this time, shuddering gasps of, "o-oh gods, g-gods, Jace!" is the last thing you are able to shout before your fourth peak breaks against the shudders of your last one, your wetness exploding, and you start crying before he lets up.

Your blubber becomes laughter, and he is soft as he lies you down, massaging your thighs as you twitched. He hovers above you, running gentle hands across your arms, kneading through skin, before he reaches your face. He's still in most of his clothes, his long white shirt and breeches, but his mouth is covered in your wetness before he wipes it, obscene in the prettiness of his face and messy locks from where you had tugged and grabbed.

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, so close to your body, all too tangled in your soul, and can feel his hard cock upright and wanting against your belly, but he pays it no mind. Concern mars his features as he brushes down your hair.

"Are you alright, my love? Too much?"

You shake your head, brushing your hand down his chest. "N-no, I am well. I just never did that before."

He smiles, kissing your closed eyelids before he brings you close to his chest, cuddling you deep. "You deserve all the pleasure I can give you," he says against your hair. "I have been gone far too long. Consider it my apology."

You hum, eyes open. "Apology for what? You were doing your duty, nothing more, ñuha zaldrīzes, my dragon." You feel him stiffen as you keep your voice soft, caring. "I understand duty far better than you. It is what I love most about you."

You look up, taking his chin between your fingertips as you stared at those warm, brown eyes. "You, who carries your honour like a shield and your duty like a sword. I feel as if the gods had blessed me a husband far better than I should have had for I know I do not deserve you."

"H-how can you say that? You are—" He swallows. "— You are the most excellent woman. The mother of my children. You... You are the one I do not deserve."

Your head falls back against his chest, gripping his shirt. Only by your teeth had you stop yourself from screaming.

You curdle, you keep, you poise.

"My love?"

But you pay him no mind, pushing him on his back as you straddle him, your hands working quick to unlace his breeches until his cock slaps against his stomach, end red and swollen. A sharp hiss falls from his lips as your hand tugs on it once. Twice.

He calls your name, spits it really, eyes blown with lust as he holds your waist, unsure if he should lift you off him or grind you against his aching cock.

"I want you inside me," you whimper, plead, feeling his cock twitch at your words, your false, yearning gaze. He mistakes the burned tears of anger in your eyes as unbridled want. "I have gone so long without your warmth, your cock, swelling inside me, your seed nestling deep, taking root—"

"Yes," he gasps, fingers digging into your doughy sides, pulling you up, moving you around whilst you grabbed his length and directed inside your wet, hot cunt inch by inch, filling you so thickly you can feel him in your throat. It takes time, patience and grit, but you're wet enough and you're determined. Once he's fully inside of you through a choked moan of your own, his neck arches, head thrown back. "Fuck! Yes, y-yes, there you are, my g-good fucking girl."

You move slow at first, taking him, bracing one hand on his knee, almost testing the feel him of back in the familiar contours of your cunt. Veins pop between each groan and choke that shudders through him whilst praise, your name, the possessive titles— my love, my wife, my princess — is spit in between.

When the heat tightens in your belly, you shift positions, placing both palms on his chest, and riding him without abandon, bouncing up and down as you watch with a sharp eye as his release builds. His hips move on their own, fucking up in you as you meet his thrusts with equal vigour, and it's delicious. It's heated. You grind your swollen folds against his mon and your cries make him thrust up harder into you, calling your name, denting your doughy hips.

You don't stop, your pleasure at the back of your mind, wanting him to unravel, to break— a final cry of your name dissolving into a choked moan, spilling his seed deep inside, the continuous snap of his hips digging it deeper into your womb.

But your last peak is still tightening, so you press a quick kiss on his chest, a bite really, before you continue to chase your own high, a hiss slipping his lips but moving your hips with his iron-grip, stutters of, "d-do it, reach your high, f-fuck! fuck!"— Your head throws back, nails digging his skin as your cunt clenches his cock in a vice grip, forcing his hips to snap up once more, twice, until you fall, slumping against him.

When he kisses the top of your head, murmuring words you ignore, you close your eyes.

Your plan is in motion. The missive will be sent to the Lord Stark, in pursuit of an innocent friendship. The spiders you have placed on the Northern bastard are set, and a dragon flies in Dragonstone with your bond in its blood.

Your Jace is home. He will fall in love with you all over again. His wonderful daughters and darling princess, he will regret the events that have transpired in the cold. In his head, he will make promises to do better, to be better, that whatever happened is a blip. A mistake that will not happen again. but you know, he will trip. He will wander once more.

But you will make sure that the next time he does so, he will regret it for the rest of his days.

Because it is not you who will burn Winterfell to the ground.

It will be him.

Your plan moves, your web is perfect.

Now, the spider waits for the idiot fucking flies to feed on.

TAGGED: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata @xxvelvetxxxx @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @bunbunbl0gs @yazzzmints @bellstwd @hiraethrhapsody

[etherealily]

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇳​​🇪​ // 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘪 𝘷𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘺

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader

Warnings : Cuss words.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

'Cross that line for me, sweetheart?'

Desc. : You are not a temptress, but he is tempted.

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

It was curious, to say the least, how land was divided. The conch next to you was half your property and half the Vronsky estate's property. It had remained that way for ages.

The waves lapped up the sand, like a heart reaching desperately for its other half as you sat watching the entire ordeal.

The Line - one drawn up every morning and marked by tiny flags as placeholders - had always pissed you off. Intrigued you. What would happen if you were to... just a finger? The hem of your dress. Would you immediately be shot at by concealed snipers? Perhaps you'd have to be tried in court.

You had never really noticed much about this Vronsky character before. Another handsome, manipulative bastard. Nothing much.

In turn, he'd also never noticed you. A face. One of many. Beautiful, of course, he was not blind, but never seen as worthy of his efforts. You were not rebellious. You were not adorably innocent. He could not entice you. He could not corrupt you.

In theory, your paths were never to cross. Different lives, same circles.

The key word : theory.

Because there are moments in life when you know that nothing will ever be the same again, when you know that your proverbial pathway is forever skewed and rerouted. These may appear to you embossed in calamities such as loss and grief, or these may be whispered in your ear by silent smiles, lovestruck looks across a ballroom, or the simple offer of champagne.

Or, in the case of you and Alexei Vronsky, all of the above.

And this was one of those torturous, life-altering moments.

"-And that's when I said, it was just a bloody goat !"

Booming, drunken laughter ensued from your left - the other side of the Line. Fuck. Keep drawing, shut up, keep drawing, shut up.

Your pencil made unintelligible sounds as it scratched out a somewhat passable depiction of the moonlit waves. The screams and guffaws grew louder, but the issue was that if you moved, he'd assume you did it because you were on his side. You were not, but it would look highly suspicious if you fled.

No. They'd quietened down. Meaning either they left - highly unlikely - or, they'd noticed you.

"Oi!"

Don't respond, don't respond.

"You! Pretty girl!"

Drunk men are terrifying. How could such kind words be said in a way that made your skin crawl?

"Mate, maybe she's a mute. Or deaf. Or both."

"I know for a fact she's not. She's got quite a mouth on her, as I can remember from last year- HEY! LADY WITH THE SKETCHBOOK!"

And that was Alexei Vronsky. His story with the goat had ended, apparently. Ugh.

You turned. "Uh, hello."

"ARE YOU A MUTE?" his companion yelled.

"Are you daft? She just answered! How could she be mute?"

Drunk men are also idiotic.

"WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER HERE, WE'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO DRAW?"

Bellowing laughter followed.

For fuck's sake.

"I'm alright, THANKS!"

"OI, C'MON! WE DON'T BITE!"

From what you'd heard, he does.

"IS IT 'CAUSE OF THAT LINE?"

"Good night, Count Vronsky.", you called back, as you gathered up your things and stood, dusting the sand off your dress.

"HOLD ON! WAIT!"

"Let'r go, mate, c'mon, we've got a party to get back to."

"I WAS JUST BEING NEIGHBOURLY, YOU BITCH!"

FUCKING HELL.

"What did you just call me?!", you yelled, turning. He looked back at you in a swaying, inebriated haze, trying to focus those glaciers he called eyes on yours in the darkness.

"A witch. You've cast a spell on me, bewitched me, so to speak. You're magic."

Ugh. "Whatever."

"Just come over here, or I'll have to come there, and you wouldn't like that.", he slurred, his friends chortling and egging him on.

Buggering Christ.

"You can't. See?", you replied defiantly, pointing deliberately at the faint white outline of the line they renewed every morning with chalk powder. "That would be trespassing."

"I'm Alexei Vronsky."

What was that supposed to mean?

"So? It's still trespassing. My family's had it in for you for a long time - we'll take you to court."

"Then you come here.", he shrugged, taking an unstable stumble closer. "Cross that line for me, sweetheart? Yeah?"

"You're a creep. And you're drunk."

"You're a beauty. And you're technically trespassing, so I need to punish you."

"HOW am I-"

"Your pencil." Fuck. How is it he's sober enough to notice that, but not sober enough to know that his buddy said 'the coat storage' not 'the goat story'?

"It blew in the wind."

"Yes. To my estate."

"You can keep it."

"Are you sure? Isn't this your, uh, fabulous pencil from Paris you were talking of?"

"No." Yes.

"No?", he frowned, picking it up. NO! Not in his grimy, disgustingly delicate fingers. "Seems pretty French to me."

"Are you actually inebriated or do you simply enjoy pretending to be so that you can get away with things?"

He stopped swaying, pointing the pencil in your direction as he placed the other hand behind his back. "You're sharp."

"So you're sober?"

Drunk Vronsky could have been molded. Sober Vronsky was a cunt.

"More or less. My friends feel left out because they are unable to hold their liquor as well as I can, so I act for them.", he explained, with a small look behind him, at his comrades trying to jump over the waves as they came.

"You should be in theatre, then."

"Adding performer to my resume is just a smidge too over-accomplished.", he retorted, an amused glint in his eye.

Ugh.

"So you're going to hold on to my pencil, then, I'm guessing."

"What? No, I know how much this means to you."

Trap. You'd bet your entire estate it was a trap.

"I will give it back.", he continued as he paced, his hand still placed behind his back as though he were planning war strategies. "On one condition."

See? Trap.

"Dinner. With me. Tomorrow."

Did he think this was a smart way to secure an evening with a woman?

"I won't be here tomorrow." Bold-faced lie, and he could tell.

"Then tonight. Right now." You couldn't think of anything you were doing.

"And I'll get my pencil back."

"Yes."

"That can't be it. There's a catch."

"You are... remarkable. Yes. There is.", he whispered, softly, as though impressed that you caught on. "Champagne. I wish to see you drunk. Drunk, in denial and... ruined."

Lot of darkness for someone who'd just been talking about a goat.

"In denial?"

"Nothing. Just... join me for dinner and drink a little, and I promise you shall have your pencil back."

"I do not drink."

"Then I do not return fancy French pencils."

"I can always purchase another."

"You do not have sentimentality, then?"

"No." Yes.

"I see. Then you may be on your way."

"I don't have to go anywhere. I have every right to be here! This is still my side of The Line."

"Suit yourself, darling."

The silence that followed was torturous and unbearable. "I do not like steak."

"Then you shall have no steak."

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

His eyes focused on you from across the table, his spoon paused midway above his plate. Eyes like the ocean in a storm. Terrifying but alluring.

"Enjoying your not-steak?"

You hid a smile. "Yes, I am."

He nodded, bringing his spoon up to his lips as he watched you do the same.

"You've left your friends out there?"

"They know not to cross The Line. They will be alright."

"Why is it you wanted to have dinner with me? To trap me into trespassing?"

"I've wanted to speak with you since I first saw you." Lie.

"And I you." Lie.

"What was it you wished to say?"

"Simply a greeting. You?"

"The same."

He set down his spoon, scrunching up his napkin as he stood up and walked the short distance across the table to you, resting his hands on the back of your chair. "You promised you'd drink."

"I did?"

"You did.", he whispers, accepting the newly-uncorked bottle the servant handed him, and pouring it into the glass next to your plate, smoothly. "And you're a good girl who keeps promises, yes?"

You'd heard he loved using such degrading language, but this was the first time you'd seen it firsthand.

"What gave you that idea?"

"I just figured you were of proper breeding and were raised right."

Good answer.

"Well, the words 'I promise' never left my mouth."

"Well-bred women do not look for loopholes. And they most certainly do not argue."

Lord knows where he'd worked up the audacity to brush some hair off your shoulder, but perhaps he was born with it imbibed in his blood.

He narrowed his eyes at your unchanging expression. "Drink."

"I am not done with my food."

He breathes out loudly, taking your plate and thrusting it into the hands of the nearest servant. "Yes, you are."

"I still have dessert."

"No, you don't. Drink."

"This is not champagne. You said champagne."

"And you said you'd drink. We both have uttered falsities. Drink."

"I fear you may be trying to-"

"Poison you? I am not. I would not like to see you die."

Was that supposed to be some form of assurance? Romantic? Caring? That did not have the intended effect.

"Drink, lovely."

It irked you how invested he was to see you drunk.

You wrapped your fingers around the glass, bringing it to your lips. Tilting it upwards, you let the liquor cascade down your throat, and echoes of your sputtering filled the room - it burned.

He laughed heartily, shaking his head as he stroked your shoulder from behind you. "Do you know what that was?"

"No. But I do know I will not take another sip."

"It was vodka, my dear, and in a few moments, you will want more. Trust me."

"I'm not taking another sip of that ghastly liquid!"

"Not even for me? Not even if I begged?"

"You think your begging has any effect on me?"

"Doesn't it? I'm known to be quite persuasive, and- besides, aren't you supposed to be the empathetic one in the family?"

"And where did you hear that?"

"Just about everywhere, really.", he huffed, resting his elbow on the table as he knelt down by your side. "'Y/N is the nicest one. She cares the most. Empathetic.' Surely you are not telling me those are lies?"

"Not lies, but exaggerations, perhaps."

"I am quite literally on my knees, Y/N, and you should realize how rare that is. Drink more or I will have to force you."

You frowned at him.

"I will do it. Force you. Don't think that because I have let you in my house so courteously that I will continue to be a gentleman with you."

"How could you be? You're nothing but a cad.", you scoffed, as you took another stingingly painful gulp.

He watched the glass, your tongue, your throat, almost mesmerized as he replied. "A cad?", he questioned softly, amused but still fascinated by your every movement.

"A cad.", you nodded, trying not to show how much you were gasping for breath. It hurt, satisfyingly.

"That's a first. No one has ever said 'oh, Alexei Vronsky, that cad'.", he murmured against his palm as he observed you meticulously.

"Then they have met a different person."

"You say this out of personal experience, do you?"

"I've met him. The Alexei Vronsky. He only thinks of one thing."

A lilt of his lips. "And that is?"

"Himself."

He concealed a grin.

"Or perhaps...", he mused, fingertips on the back of your neck as though he were playing your skin as one would a piano. "He is one who shows different versions of himself to different people."

"So he is deceitful."

"I'd say careful."

"Would you, now?"

"I think we put up far too many false pretences anyway. No point in fighting it - it is necessary, to be part of society."

"And what false pretences am I putting up, in your expert opinion?"

He smiled, one too pure to match the description you had so harshly delivered a moment before, but you knew more than most that it was a ruse. "Drink more."

"You're an incredibly demanding man, aren't you? Dine with me. Drink more. Not a single please, nor thank you.", you retorted, as though that could take away from the fact that you obeyed.

"When you are incredibly in demand, you learn to be incredibly demanding."

If ever a smoother talker existed, you'd wager he'd simply be Alexei Vronsky in disguise.

"So tell me, then. Are you a gentleman, a cad, or an opportunist, Count Vronsky?"

You had to steer the conversation back to him, because whatever this vilely beguiling liquor was, it was shooting through your veins at a rate too fast to risk talking about yourself, lest any family secrets spilled out.

"I am whatever you want me to be. And you? Are the rumours true? Are you a virgin, a temptress, or a genius?"

"I am whatever I want to be. For tonight."

"Come morning?", he murmured against your neck as he slipped a finger under a loose strand of hair, and twirled it with such dedication you would think that were his only purpose in life.

"A memory."

"Well, we can't have that.", he pouted, as he stood up, gently taking the glass away from you and finishing the last of it. "What does it take for a memory to stay in the present?"

"Vronsky-"

"A dance, perhaps, as they say you enjoy?"

If you weren't unsure of the functionality of your motor skills in your drunken haze, you'd have punched him right then and there.

"The rumours aren't true, you know?"

"What rumours?", he asked, feigning obliviousness.

He'd just spoken of them, but you were quite sure if you reminded him, he'd attribute it to the vodka. Tell you you were 'surely imagining things, dear one'.

"The ones that led you to come and have a go at me."

"Those? Oh, I didn't believe them for a second.", he grinned, his eyes examining the filthiest, most remote parts of your soul - ones that even you had never been privy to.

A moment washed over the both of you, tauntingly. You looked for any secrets in his eyes, and he looked for any in yours, albeit, more calmly than you.

"Come.", he mumbled, finally, offering his hand for you to get up out of his disgustingly well-crafted chair. "Let's get you back on your side of The Line."

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

"There. Oh, and here. I am of proper manners.", he added after you'd leapt over The Line, handing your pencil back over to you.

It felt oddly anticlimactic after the events of the evening.

His icy blue eyes - striking, so striking that they pierced you - fell onto your lips for just a moment before landing on the pencil in your hand. "You don't want it back."

"What? Of course I do."

He had you. He was onto you.

"Let me rephrase. You don't need it back."

"Sentimentality. Of course I do."

"You really don't want it to stay in my possession, instead?"

"No."

"Liar.", he smirked, his lips curving deliciously, and you just about lost it. "You know I'll take very good care of it, no? Like I took care of you, tonight. No complaints, yes?"

"Besides the aggressive persuasion to drink a fiery liquid that most probably burnt my throat off, no."

"You exaggerate. Tell me tonight was just another of your dull nights. Tell me I haven't been a source of reprieve from your tedious, mundane days of fakeness and gossip."

You scoffed, refusing to dignify that with a reply, although you already knew that any response- or lack thereof - would be all too telling.

"You cannot, can you?"

There was nothing you hated more than when men were right.

Especially men who were as captivating as Vronsky. It was unnecessary and dangerous.

He beamed, clearly so fucking proud of himself, as he looked out at the waves. "It is a lovely dress you are wearing."

No, it wasn't. It was the most commonplace of dresses one could wear. But he'd say it anyway. Because that was his play.

"Thank you."

"It is disgusting, though."

"In what way? A disgusting display of my wealth, or disgustingly lovely?"

He knelt down next to you from the other side, on the sand. "It is disgusting that such beauty and purity like yours can exist and people continue to slander its name."

Had you been a lesser woman, you'd have fallen for it.

It seemed, however, that he knew you wouldn't. It was confusing, to say the least, whether he was being genuine or being genuinely fake.

"It is how I live."

If you'd read him right, he should say something along the lines of...

"It shouldn't be."

There.

"However... the dress in itself is not disgusting?"

"No, it is spectacular- although, I must say, the woman wearing it is far more ravishing."

Games get boring when they are predictable.

"So. What is it you normally do after parties, since you cannot get drunk? Unless blackmailing women to dine with you and drink your vodka is your usual pastime."

He snickered, although a slight maliciousness infiltrated his gaze for a moment. "It isn't so much a pastime as... an unfortunately common occurence. Perhaps that's why you've got an opinion of me as a - how'd you put it?"

"A cad."

"Ah, yes, a cad. I wonder if your opinion has changed."

That was not hope in his eyes, no. That was a challenge. 'Go ahead, Y/N, say no. If you dare.', his look said.

"I wonder that, too. Perhaps it will if you keep your promise."

"Promise?", he repeated, raising a brow. He knew. He knew all too well what you were saying.

"False pretences.", you reminded, watching him as he watched the waves distort the light of the moon. "You said you would tell me what false pretences you think I put up."

He was far too close. The incredibly fragile, entirely imaginary Line wouldn't be able to stop him from reaching over and touching your shoulder once more.

"I think... do you want to know what I think?"

"I might."

"I think that you're lying when you brush off the rumours."

"You think I am a slut? A temptress?" Now, suddenly, the monotonous nature of everyday seemed far more interesting than the thousandth iteration of the same conversation.

"No, I think you brushing them off is the lie. They affect you far too much." Alright. That was... progress.

"Do they, now?"

"Very much. And there is one more, as well, although I doubt you will like to hear it. You crave to prove them right."

Congratulations, Alexei Vronsky, you've caught my attention.

"That is an extremely, extremely bold suggestion."

"Yet you are not denying it."

"I do not wish to have my virtue questioned, Vronsky, and us having dinner does not change that."

"But it pokes at it, does it not? A slight scratch, an itch, asking if that is what you really want. It blurred the lines, did it not?"

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"You're an incredibly delusional man, Count Vronsky."

"A delusional cad."

"Precisely."

You didn't miss the amusement in his tone, the laughter, the way he knew how perfectly right he was.

"Well, this delusional cad did not lie, earlier. You truly have bewitched me, my dear, and I do not think I shall ever turn you down."

He stood up, dusting the sand off his gloves and pants. You stood up too, not out of respect, but out of the desire to relish his face once more.

"Turn me down?"

"When you inevitably ask for me when your marriage is dry, lifeless and torturous."

Good lord. How long had he been- how far ahead was he thinking?

"I will be right here. On this side."

"Why are you so adamant that my marriage will be-"

"Because I'm the one you need. You've broken quite literally every rule tonight. Crossed the line, fraternized with the enemy, drank unfamiliar alcohol that could so easily have been poisoned or used against you."

"How does that make you the one I-"

"I'm taking you out of your comfort zone. Freeing you. What more would one want from a lover?"

So casual with that word. Lover. As though that was all you two had been, since the beginning.

"Have I mentioned that you're-"

"Delusional? Yes, you have. But you have also yet to mean it."

Who the hell allowed this man to be so confident?

His thumb rubbed against your cheek in pure tenderness that you are well-prepared for - you've learnt over the years he's unpredictable, and since his mercurial nature was the only predictable thing about him, it was easy for you to guess his next move.

Or at least, figure out that it would be the exact opposite of the tone of his words.

"I can help you, you see?", he said, words so faint they were almost whisked away in the sea breeze. "Honest."

"Was that the point of tonight?"

"No, the point of tonight was to get you so utterly inebriated that you would tell me your family's secrets, and hence, your own."

That was the only thing that had come out of his mouth all night that you could guarantee was the truth.

"And since that did not happen, you are doing this?"

"No, I couldn't let that happen. Unwrapping you, figuring you out, it is far too intriguing a task to complete with a glass of vodka and enticing words. I want to spend years, decades, the rest of my life, performing this task, revealing you slowly and addictively, until I have lost myself or driven myself crazy trying to reach the core of your soul."

The silence kissed you two over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. "You are terrifyingly good at this."

He almost looked like he was about to say 'at what', but it seemed his mood had turned too serious to coax a half-hearted insult out of you.

"And you are terrifying. You are like the eye of a storm, intricately, almost... sinisterly drawing me closer."

"I'm not sure what you want me to-"

His lips devoured your words, and you could not help but think that this night had progressed far too rapidly to your liking. He was a stranger, a random man who you shared nothing but a flimsy little line with, but here you were, letting him kiss you, letting him ruin you, letting him convince you with his words that this was a good idea.

"Come on, darling.", he murmured against your lips, his eyes still half-lidded in a triumphant haze. "Cross the line. I promise, I'll take care of you."

You surrendered, and all you could do was hope that his beauty was simply angelic in nature, and was not designed for the sole purpose of ruining you and every iota of self-respect you had.

Hard to tell, but perhaps he had meant it that way.

[bluestarlett]

Hey! So, uh...

One of my family members used to work for this old animation studio, I'm pretty sure it was called, like Calamity Animations, or something?

But anyway, the studio closed down maybe in the early 2010s, and the family member who used to work there has this big box of old concept sheets and storyboards, and I found a pretty neat one!

Seems like the show was called something like, "Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium"? It kind of looks like a Ruby Gloom knockoff at first glance- which is probably why it never aired.

The main character is this little devil girl, and I'm not all too sure what her name is, since in some of the concept sketches and scripts she's referred to as Soul, and other times she's referred to as Atlas. She's also got a chicken named Scarell, which I'm pretty sure is just a dumb play on the name Darell.

She seems pretty adventurous from what I can tell but she's always having to deal with her sister and brother getting into some kind of problem.

I think these are her siblings, Heart and Mind? But sometimes they're called Artem and Polly, which I guess is a play on Artemis and Apollo. Afaik they're always bickering and annoying Soul (or Atlas?) with their arguing. Seems like the plot of every episode is that Soul has to find some way to get the two to make up and usually it works, until the very next episode where they have another petty fight. As someone who grew up with siblings, its honestly funny asf.

And then there's... this guy?

He's called the Showhost or Storyteller a lot, so I guess he is this 'Chonny' dude in the title? What's weird about him is that in all of the storyboards, his face is always cut off by the screen, kind of like Ms. Bellum from PPG. There's not really much said about him, he's kinda just a weirdly cryptic and out of place character for a kids show.

Apparently, there are still a few files of early episodes out there somewhere and I think even a physical copy, but we couldn't find any in the box that my aunt (the one who worked at the animation studio) brought home, so we're guessing someone else is in possession of them. So, hey, if anyone out there knows anything about this show, you should hmu! It seems cute and I honestly want to know the story behind it.

Bye for now!

[misomiho]

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𖤐⭒๋࣭

Part 1 ☆Part 2

Genre: sfw and tooth rotting fluff

Pairing: JJK x Fem!Reader |Inumaki, Nanami,Maki,Okkotsu|

A/N: hi! this is like my first time ever to post after half a year :[ I'm so sorry!

𝙄𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚 ⭑

→He was panicking inside a little bit, poor boy. You always shared everything with him and always liked everything you came in contact with so it's impossible to narrow everything in to one.

→He was rummaging through his things when a magazine with a guitar picture imprinted on it flew on top of his head, that gave him an idea.

"Inumaki, here's the thing you asked for..!"

"salmon"

"Is it for (Y/N)..?!"

"salmon"

"Ohh, didn't know you were that romantic!"

"bonito flakes!"

→He gave you a guitar pick he customized himself, he always loved how your voice sounded and the way you strang the guitar's strings. He badly wanted to tell you how your voice is so angelic.

𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 ⭑

→Kento is an old fashioned guy, romantic I might say. He didn't find it hard to give you the gifts that would make your heart squeeze.

→He pondered on how you always seemed to like flowers but he already gave you one last time so he found a way to give you one but with a twist.

"Is this all the flowers, sir..?"

"Yes but I have a question in mind"

"May I hear it..?"

"Do you mind teaching me about flower arrangements? I can pay for the lesson"

"Oh..no need sir! I am willing to teach you so"

→What he made isn't exactly the best (in his opinion) but the effort, time, and love he put in to them is more than enough to make you happy.

𝙕𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞 ⭑

→She didn't really specialize in this kind of things since picking one always ends up in a calamity. She remembered how she gave you a weapon once as a gift.

→She was about to head out when a paper slipped past infront of her. It was one of your sketches of her.

"Oh no, I'm out of paper in my sketchbook..!"

"I'm not surprised, you're always sketching every second"

"How can I not when you're so pretty to draw"

"..."

"It's true..!"

→Maki gave you another sketchbook, a thicker one where it would take awhile to ran out of paper. She secretly likes it when you draw her.

𝙊𝙠𝙠𝙤𝙩𝙨𝙪 𝙔𝙪𝙩𝙖 ⭑

→He almost forgot! probably because of how stressed he was and was worrying about what you would've liked.

→He asked Maki for advice! he thought that since you're both girls, she might be able to help pick one for you!

→They were both chaotic as hell, Maki even teased him a little bit when Yuta finally saw the 'perfect' gift.

"Yutaaaa! this is so adorable...!"

"I'm sorry, it was kind of rushed and-"

"No..! I like it and it's the best, I can now have something to cuddle with"

"That kind of hurts, I'm here you know..."

"Well..."

"Hey..!"

"I'm kidding..! I have an exception for you!"

→He gave you a plushie of your favorite animal, he once saw you admiring principal Yaga's cursed corpses and recalled how you wanted one of them! it was not as cool as the ones imbued with curse energy but it was special to you nonetheless.

[newkatzkafe2023]

I love your work. Almost no one talks about Netflix monkey king. So May I request a reader who is kind oblivious to the fact that everywhere she goes it like those cartoon disasters. Like she could walk and a giant boulder almost hit her. The poor monkeys are the one who take the brunt of the damage and you are concerned but completely confused. Basically reader a bad luck magnet and doesn’t realize it

This reminds me of 2 things Candy by robbie Williams and Mr Bean🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

(Lmk Wukong) He is so stressed being with you everyday especially when your so unnaturally clumsy. You bever seem to be aware of your surroundings and just skip and walk while looking at your phone or just walking around smiling. Just to have a beam almost fall on you, a car almost hitting you, and to cause people to trip over and next to you. Wukong is mildly jealous That you can cause mayhem without lifting a finger, But it's also greatly cospinning and that causes him to take damage from your clumsiness. It's a good thing you love to give kisses for his boo boos🥰🥰🥰

(Nezha Reborn) you are like a black cat, a adorably sexy black cat that roams the streets with flowers in her head. Everywhere you go Is chaos and calamity happens, and the crazy part you have no freaking idea😣😣. Wukong Is dumbfounded by the stuff that happens around you like seriously How do pianos fall from the sky?!??! Why is it when you walk past a open window and explosion happens, and then the final straw is when you look on your phone and Cause a bus to hit a flag pole. Yeah Wukong Find himself Being the responsible one and Getting Is consequences to your bazaar events, but it's so cute that you turn around and show concern for him as you kiss his wounds.

(HIB Wukong) IT'S LIKE HE'S RAISING 3 BABIES AND ONE PIG!!!!!!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 if it's not silly girl wondering off, Luier's curiosity getting the better of him, or pigsy doing something that's probably gonna get him kilt or arrested. It's you and your bad luck and Absent mindedness, like seriously, are you so stuck in your bubble? You don't see much of the world around you. Wukong luckily calms down about this because It's not like you're trying to stress him out and make him worried it's just your so damn accident prone🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Granded it's on Wukong for baring the blunt to most of your accident but at least you take such good care of him at the end😚💋💋🧡

(MKR Wukong).............First he has to protect master Tripitaka............now he has to watch and protect YOU TOO?!??!?!?! Wukong has never seen someone so accident prone in his whole life. Like seriously HOW ON EARTH AND YOU STILL ALIVE?!??!?! Then you would have the nerve to finally pay attention to what you are doing and show concern for him when he's looks All dishevelled and beat up. You'll often pout and take out an first aid kid to come and take care of him, You drive Wukong crazy with your Terrible luck and Absent mindedness but oh my god your so sweet🥰

(Netflix Wukong) He's running around like a chicken without a head when it comes to you and your bad luck. Seriously, how are you so unbothered and unaware of your surroundings not to mention how you can just travel around like nothing is gonna happen to you. At first, Wukong thought someone was one to get you, but after a long time of watching your back, he learned about your ever so Crappy luck and he had to take the area damage. At least your always so extra affectionate when it comes to his daily injuries Making sure to kiss all his boo boos.

(BMW Wukong) Sigh you can be quite the handful for him everyday. Wukong can literally feel his own eye twitch as he watched you walk in a the field in the middle of a battle. Luckily for Wukong nothing seem to hit you infact Stranger things happen Whenever you showed up, like arrows missing you drop your book, or people hitting someone else while you bend down to fix your dress. Then the old booby trap bit when you walked into a bunch of traps and somehow only he got injured, While you come out unscathed he just doesn't understand and for once it drives him insane. At leat when you finally noticed his current condition you stop to nurse him back to help.

(Destined one) Can you believe he is adapted and got used to it quite quickly. He silently watches you on the daily so he is quick to notice you and your wildly bad luck. The Destined one has also noticed that you don't seem to mind your own clumsiness and terrible environment. In fact, what's kinda weirded him out was the fact that you don't seem to even notice it or more like your completely unaware. He takes note of this as you wrap up his latest injury, Due to your calamity.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🤕

[vampiretendencies]

jj being on hair duty for all the kids while you’re cooking breakfast, and he has his spray and brush in hand while he does the boys hair, then he’s just like “pigtails today for my miss maybank?” and she just squeals because she can’t even talk

so sweet n domestic luv it :,) dad!jj, children are a boy and girl.

he’d come beaming down the stairs with his usual dimpled grin, what’s not to adore about the family that he’d hoped for. dressed for work, acquiring a job that has him working with his hands, perhaps a mechanic. the thick material, hugging his bulky body so tightly.

you are the first to receive his good morning greeting, from behind of course. breakfast on the stove, yet all he could do was breathe in the scent of the otherworldly being in front of him. feeling it flood his airways, with a sensation of relief and calamity.

“morning baby,” he’d mumble into the deepest nook of your neck, fingers gliding evenly over the surface that was your hips. "so pretty," he complimented, despite the nest of tousled tresses on your head and the sleep still ridden in your features. peppering repeated kisses to your temple. really, though is was his way of buttering you up before evenly snatching a piece of bacon of off the plate, knowing full well the rule was everyone eats together.

"jj, put it back!"

the piece of meat hangs from his mouth, with hands lifted in innocence before he slaps a serene smack to your ass causing a fit of laughter from the two children behind him. oldest, aka jj's shadow— the three year old boy, who idolized his father as though he could do no wrong. youngest, the girl reigning in at one. sat close to the island on their bar stools, waiting partially impatient by their plates for food.

"you two better stop laughing before you end up in time out with him, now get on hair duty, maybank."

"yes ma'am!"

every occurrence that its jj's turn to tame the children's hair he always looks at it in a foreign matter. because he doesn't manage his, priding on the fact that "water works wonders for his hair." the baby's thin bright blonde locks were growing so much so that recently her hair can go up, he misses the days when he could just brush it and be done. but you insist it has be styled. he maps out the the hairstyle excessively, his large hand almost suffocating the little pink brush.

"hm what'll be today sweet girl? pigtails today for miss maybank?"

peering over your shoulder from the stove an ear to ear smile is plastered on her alike dimpled features. and she simply can't contain it, so overbearing with affection for her father that this little gesture is erupting a fit of squeals from her lungs. somehow growing more and more honored with everytime jj touched her head, it was as if she thought she was in the presence of royalty.

"she loves it, j," you grin back at her, whilst a delighted smirk is on jj's face.

"course, she does baby look who's doing it," he curves the brush the form one half of the hairstyle. "momma's not a pro at this like daddy huh princess?"

you shake your his in disbelief as he just always has something pest like to say.

"me next dad!" the boy clapped his hands, cheering for jj.

[iznsfw]

Day-Off

Kep1er's Shen Xiaoting x Male Reader x Male Friend Smut

10,884 words

Categories | masturbation, handjob, blowjob, facefucking, cunnilingus, anal, spitroast, thighfucking, slapping

Masterlist | Mobile Masterlist | Commission me!

First commission! :D Thanks for funding my siblings' allowances and my search for a new laptop. I'm not even being sarcastic; your tips and commissions help me out a lot. Work can be cruel.

Okay, to begin with: one could say Xiaoting’s a little pent up. Just a little is what she'd like to say, for the sake of everyone around her, but with the way things are going, she might as well be flat-out enraged. Fucking unhinged, if you will. She’s a nudge away from screaming and wrecking everything everywhere all at once, all over the place. 

The problem? Well, it's not an easy answer. But this is the short one: it's not at all fun being kept in the company building to practice more even after they've replayed the comeback song more times than she can count on her fingers. There's a one, a two, and a one, two, three—

Cue the music! 

(Yeah, that wasn't a particularly short answer.)

"So, I was thinking…" hums Yujin, sedentary beside her and with a head on her shoulder. 

Every bone in Xiaoting’s body is on fire after the rehearsals. But: "What is it?" 

See, it's been a rough day, but not too rough that she's going to take it all out on her best friend. No matter what happens, she is and always will remain an angel to Yujin. Nothing more, nothing less. They're practically sisters with how much time they've spent together. She guesses she should return the favor of friendship in her own little way.

Here's how it is with her and Yujin as of present: they're in the practice room, and it's quiet. The rest of the group have emptied the place out and the two of them are alone. This is usually the time Xiaoting and she catch up with each other; there isn't much time to do that in between packed schedules, but since then she’s formed quite a friendship with her bandmate, and she’s determined to keep it strong.

Yujin taps her chin cutely. "Are the CCTVs' audio on?"

Xiaoting raises a brow. A smile, however, settles for the first time on her face. "Choi Yujin," she says, both seriously and kiddingly, "what the hell are you planning now?"

"Language.”

“The girls—"

"—aren't here," Yujin fills the blanks in for her with her signature eye smile. "Exactly, thank you for bringing that up. They can't join us when we go there."

She blinks, not catching on. "Go where?" 

The older girl pushes two index fingers together. "I may or may not have negotiated with the manager," she says slyly, "and we may or may not have a day-off tomorrow."

Genuine and grateful shock filters into Xiaoting’s Bambi-wide eyes. The sides of her mouth twitch, and she realizes it’s a smile. It takes news like this to bring out a big, giddy one from her. It's the right news at the perfect time.

(No, it can't be merely called news—it's a blessing. The universe is finally kind to her. Maybe it doesn't deserve the endless curses she's thrown at it after rough days, when it's chosen to bear the weight of the sky on her.

Xiaoting, however, is fantastic at holding grudges.)

"You're kidding!" says Xiaoting happily. Her hands grip Yujin's shoulders, and now she's got the girl swaying to and fro driven by her own excitement. Force is something she doesn't relent, so Yujin's forced to bear the calamity of her happiness with the repeated rocking. “Yujin unnie, oh my god, you’re the best!”

"Calm down!" she chides with a giggle, but the girl's energy only goes up.

"We've got to go somewhere! Somewhere fancy, Yujin unnie, somewhere like a… a…"

What could be the perfect place to go for a day-off? The two of them have already gone to a massage therapist, as well as blown money on massive shopping sprees. That film screening’s crossed out, too. Now, with all of those boxes checked, they need a new one to add to the list. 

"A hot spring," Yujin declares rather than suggests, a cheeky grin on her face. Seems like she’s been scheming about a day-off for more than a while. "We're going to, like, a super private hot spring. It’s really exclusive, so even if people recognize us, we’ll be fine. Privacy is one of the reasons why it’s got five stars on Google reviews.”

Xiaoting leans back into the mirror and thinks about it. A private hot spring? No need to think if people would see her or not? It sounds too good to be true. She loves being an idol despite the schedules and cramped day-offs, but it definitely won’t hurt to be able to be herself where it won’t matter. It would drain the stress from her life even for just a little while.

Who knows? She might even make some new friends.

“I’m in!” 

-

Well, someone isn't, but that's how the story goes.

-

“Isn’t this kind of like nepotism?”

The creases on your clothes don’t smooth out by themselves. You guess you shouldn’t have procrastinated ironing them, especially now that you’re bringing them along for a trip. Look over at your friend's luggage and see that his clothes aren’t that perfect either, which comforts a much more unprioritized concern.

“Dude,” he sighs as he folds his clothes into organized (or at least, as organized as they can be) places inside his luggage bag, “do you even know what nepotism means?”

He got you. You make a sigh of your own, too; your main concern being the whole vacation thing is rather odd. It really shouldn’t be when it’s a promise of a good time, food served limitlessly, and the waves always there to crash on a tired soul, but it still sets you off.

What could be the reason for your gut feeling? You haven’t been able to figure out why. All you know is that if Lee weren’t your friend, you’d have refused to go. You would have fought not to go, but your circumstances are different, hence the clothes scattered along the carpeted floor of his room and the unzipped luggage carry-ons.

Your belongings sit side by side in your bag. Your earphones are tangled strings and your clothes are wrinkled; they don’t want to go either, apparently. They all yearn for home, just like you are, even if you’re just in the packing stage of the trip. 

Maybe they’ve got little introverted souls of their own.

“No,” you admit. Your back slumps. “It just… it just doesn’t seem fair, y'know."

“Who cares?” Lee says, in his usual, laid-back manner. It’s the thing that made the two of you close friends in the first place, but right now, it’s interfering with helping him understand your situation. Pity. “Lin works there, so it isn’t exactly a privilege. He works his ass off, and since he’s been a long-time employee, we get to stay there for free. Isn’t it neat?”

Lee looks at you with an expression that prods you to agree, but you don’t budge. It’s kind of funny how you refuse to enjoy a free connections-caused vacation when your morals are already fucked up as is, but when you believe in something, you don’t really back down easily.

Is that a good trait? Not exactly; it has its fair share of bad days.

“What about people who lose a booking spot because of us?” 

“Fuck them, man,” Lee says nonchalantly, waving a hand in the air. “I’m going to have fun, and nothing can ruin that for me.”

How you’re friends with someone who’s your complete opposite, you’ve no idea. But you like Lee—he’s been there for you when no one wanted to be, and you owe more to him than an agreement to a vacation. If that’s the case, why couldn’t you just go?

You say nothing. You don’t know what else to say anyway. Any more words from you might dig a deeper hole than you’ve already dug, so you choose to be silent. Sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut than explain yourself. 

“Hey,” he suddenly says, a softer melody to his tone now. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not too happy about going out, so if you want to back out, it’s totally fine with me. No hard feelings.”

You know he’s just trying to be kind, as anyone would, but his words tell you anything but not to go. Thing is, you don’t like being a burden on his back. On anyone’s back for that matter. Maybe it’s time to dip your toes out of your comfort zone and just dive headfirst into doing it. The whole thing would be over sooner than you’d think.

"I guess I'm in," you say. No going back now. 

"I fucking love you, man!" Lee cheers, throwing his arms around you. 

You have to admit you're smiling. Stifle it, but the creases of happiness get your cheeks unable to form a disguise. Decide not to hide it anymore (because who the fuck are you kidding anyway?) and return to packing.

In a slightly better mood, you fold one graphic shirt over the other, and ask, "What's the hype about the place anyway?"

"Well," Lee explains, "it's a hot spring. It's where celebrities, idols—all the hot people, basically—go for a vacay."

"Does that make us hot people then?" you wonder out loud. It's worth the question.

"You are a good-looking dude. I'd definitely tap that."

"Thanks." An embarrassingly lengthy beat. "Wait, what—"

"They pay really good, too," Lee goes on as if nothing happened. "That's why Lin likes working there. It has unlimited portions of dinner and a big buffet at night. The water's really warm, too, so you're not gonna shiver when you get in."

"Ah. Well,” shrug matter-of-factly, “it is a hot spring."

He smirks. "You don't get it, do you? The water there is perfect for external detoxifying. That's where Nayeon goes to get perfect skin."

There he goes again. Lee’s the type of person to be too in the know of every piece of celebrity gossip out there. That quality of his goes up when it’s about his favorite idol, Im Nayeon. 

"You're too in love with her," you scoff.

"We have a connection, is all."

"A parasocial one at that."

"One more word out of you," Lee says, voice full of warning, "and you're banned from my house and the hot spring."

You chuckle. Lee's quite sensitive when it comes to Nayeon. You wonder if there would be a point in your life wherein you'd obsess over an idol, too, just like he is. Perhaps a few months from now? 

(A day from now?)

"Oh, come on," you protest. Zip up your bag and shove it over to Lee. "It's not my fault you genuinely believe Nayeon's your girlfriend!"

"I don't, what the fuck."

"Then why do you want to go to the hot spring so badly? Think you can meet her there?" Put on a mocking voice. "Think you can marry her and have seven children with her?"

Lee glowers and gives you the finger. Gives you the finger on the other hand, too. Shoves the two raised middles into your face. "Fuck you, man."

Your heart feels lighter after teasing him. It just so happened that all it takes for you to agree is the classic ol' nagging. God knows you're good at that.

-

Your mind changed, see? It’s all going according to plan—you and Xiaoting have to meet somehow.

-

Xiaoting's happy that they're going to use the trailer. She knows it might attract attention, considering that a photo of her girl group is literally painted on the outer walls of the vehicle, but if the world sees fit, maybe people would assume it's a normal trailer with a fan-funded ad. 

Besides, it's better than her manager's tight old car. 

"We've got this place all to ourselves," Yujin says in her usual cheerful voice. She’s opted to go donning a lavender set of pajamas. Xiaoting chooses to wear a denim skirt and a t-shirt. "Which seat will it be, Ting?"

She scans the place. There are aisles and aisles of empty seats, all mantled with transparent plastic. There's a bathroom in the far end (essential after they eat some nice burgers on the road) and a television mounted at the very front of the trailer (gotta know what happens in the next episode of Running Man, after all).

Ultimately, they choose to sit near the doors. She suggests that they each occupy two seats opposite each other for comfort. Her friend agrees, thinking nothing of it. They both settle into their seats with pillows pressed to the trailer walls and the night sky watching their trip.

Would it watch if she decided to look at porn right now? Would the stars lose their shine after seeing the kinks she’s particularly into?

Oh, she knows it's risky, but she's got her headphones with her, hanging 'round her neck like an accessory. Yujin and the driver won't be disturbed that way. And she’s got mobile data, too. If they ever check the Wi-Fi router history, they’d know nothing about her secrets. At least, she doesn't think so.

She bites her lip. Yujin's still awake, so she has to hold out for a few more minutes.

"Isn't it nice getting to go out once in a while?" Yujin asks. She sighs dreamily as she looks out at the passing roads. The moon gleams in the reflection in her eyes. "It’s been a while since we went on a road trip. Not that fun when cameras are around."

Xiaoting's thighs squirm together. She's too horny for small talk with her. Her hands and eyes remain locked on her phone, where a video of a woman with spread legs between two anonymous men waits. She wants to watch it already, to imagine that it’s her body they’re using. She wants to sink her fingers deep in her own cunt and fuck herself into a quiet yet violent orgasm. She needs it more than she could say, but Yujin’s still there, waiting for a response.

“Ting-ah,” Yujin calls out, looking at her with eyes full of expectation. She’s confused; Xiaoting is quiet, but not so much that her responses are nonexistent. Something must be wrong. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Does she dare…? Xiaoting hopes the dark night covers her hand, which edges down to her covered core. She bites her lip to muffle the moany sound of her breath catching on a hook. “We deserve this. Let’s hope the girls aren’t jealous.”

“They’re going to stay at Disneyland,” replies the leader. “If anything, we’re the ones who should be jealous.”

Xiaoting finds her clit and rubs at it softly with the tip of her finger. Her thighs instinctually lock her wrist in place. The heat gathers at her bundle of nerves and spreads to the rest of her body. She’s too turned on, and the thought of Yujin or the driver finding out that she’s touching herself both frightens and excites her. At times, her wrist stops its choreographed motions, hesitance riddling its veins, but goes against it with a pace even she can’t keep up with.

“Xiaoting? Earth to Shen Xiaoting?”

“Ah,” she responds, but it’s more induced by her fingers drawing number 8s on her nub rather than an apologetic answer. Xiaoting’s cheeks and ears turn red. “Yeah, Disneyland. They’re younger anyway, so I’d guess they’d like… that.”

Yujin peers at her closely. Her eyes squint but fail to catch on to her groupmate’s hand which now starts to fuck her fingers into her tight hole. “Are you okay?” 

Xiaoting is more than okay. She’s blissful, and she’s not using the term loosely, mind you; her wetness practically floods her panties. They slicken the pads of her fingers and drive them through deeper places in her needy cunt. No matter how hard she tries to relax in order for her fingers to intrude her hole more, she still desperately clenches down. It’s humiliating how hard and sensitive her nipples have become even without them being directly touched.

Her hips sway in what she prays is a subtle dance. She looks out the window and nods. She’s a little afraid to speak. What if her words end up becoming garbled moans? Would it matter if they do? How high is the possibility of her saying something like please please let me touch myself, I’ll be a good girl, don’t make me stop I’ve been so good?

Yujin eventually lets the matter rest and melts into sleepful rest herself. It’s either she has an idea of what Xiaoting is doing and doesn’t care enough to pry, or has no idea at all and decides to leave it be for both of their sakes. Her head leans on the window pane where her sleep-ridden eyelids reflect.

Once Xiaoting ensures that her eyes are completely shut, she connects her headphones to her phone. Her mind’s so addled by lust that the clicking of buttons necessary to wire the sound matches the speed of light. She hits the play button, waiting eagerly for the video with the hand between her legs.

One of the men teases the woman’s tiny slit with his cock, making the actress toss her head back and bite her lip. Xiaoting’s mouth waters at how big the rod is, and suddenly it’s not lust much anymore but wishfulness. She wants to be fucked as good as she could be, and it can’t easily be solved with watching pornography. For now, though, she settles with teasing her clit with the same rhythm one of the male pornstars is performing on the passive woman.

Her heart aches with want. As she watches him penetrate her while his partner fucks her mouth, she teases herself. Her breaths break through her nostrils while her fingers rub up and down between her drenched folds. She dips her middle digit inside her clenched hole, and she has to gather her strength not to moan unabashedly right then and there. The power of imagination reaches beyond excellence, and right now she’s imagining that she’s in the same position as the porn actress: having both her upper and downer lips fucked at the same time.

“Fuck,” she whispers. It’s a thin little word, barely creating any sound, but she still looks at Yujin out of paranoia. Upon finding that she remains asleep, she continues fucking herself. The sides of her fingers clash with her velvety walls to rub and stimulate them. Her wrist bumps her clit, increasing the pleasure of the experience.

Her pussy’s closed tightly around her fingers, as if telling them to go on or they’ll be trapped here doing it forever. Soon, she has to lift her hips too to mash them with her hand. Xiaoting’s filling herself over and over again, and her risque little self-love session is amplified with the dirtiest of thoughts. She thinks how badly she wants to be used, to be treated like the good girl she’s willing to ditch her whole persona to be. She ponders on how good it would feel if her holes were to be filled with cock and fingers and cum, and the way it would never stop even after she’s spent. She guarantees that’s the part that makes her excited the most.

Soon, she’s lost in her own dream. This isn’t exactly a dream slumber would stumble across, but it’s perfect—it’s an imaginary land where she’s given what she wants. What she wants just so happens to be fucked. That’s how simple it is. She’d appreciate nothing more than to have her body rubbed and touched, to have her holes spread to their limits and taken in a way that’s almost inconsiderate. 

It's a fantasy she has, in fact, of being screwed by two people at once. She’s read the explicit fictional stories horny fans on the internet write about her, but she’s chosen to enjoy them rather than report them to her agency. They get some parts right: she wants to be fucked, she’s constantly on edge, and would love to have her sexual dreams fulfilled. The problem here is that there’s no one to make them come true for her; she has to stick with overused words in old fanfiction site posts and her fingers.

The two men’s symphony of moas draw wetter strings of lubrication from her cunt. It’s as if the video were an actual critically acclaimed movie with how much she’s hooked onto it. She imagines the best she could that it’s her ass that fat cock is going into, her mouth that’s being ruined, her clit that’s being rubbed. She wants it all more than anything.

“Please,” she says. Her legs cross and her voice strains to be allowed to scream. “Fuck me, use me, pound me… ‘lmost there…”

Xiaoting shuts her eyes and lets the sounds get to her: the clashing of skin, the wet squelching sounds that are either coming from her pussy or the pornstar’s, the male and female moans alike. She pumps faster, and she’s chasing her high like a starved hunter for prey. She’s chasing after it, grasping it—

“Cumming!”

The shock settles in before she squirts all over the seat. The worst thing is that she’s not able to stop the stream of girl cum coming from her pussy despite her hand halting its movements. She can’t take back her words either. Someone definitely heard that.

“Ting-ah,” says a drowsy Yujin. She lifts her head off the window and squints through blurred vision to try and make out what happened. “Did someone say anything?”

“Yes… ah, no.” Xiaoting thanks goodness that her voice isn’t brittle anymore. “I think I just, uh, spilled my water.”

“Oh. Want me to help you clean it up?”

“It’s, it’s fine,” Xiaoting declines politely and waves her off. 

(Fuck, she wasn’t supposed to dismiss her with that hand! Luckily, she explained the reason for the wetness just now. She just hopes the atmosphere doesn’t stink of fluids and cum.)

Still, long after the girl drifts off to sleep again, Xiaoting discovers that it isn’t enough. She could have the most head-numbing orgasms known to woman, but they still won’t feel as good when they’re not drawn out of her by someone else. 

So, what should she do?

-

Planes are the closest thing to the Devil incarnate. Whose idea was it to throw people into the sky where they could disappear with the wrong turn? It’s bad enough on the ground, but when you’re talking about being in the sky where the weather can pull you down without effort, the danger makes your skin crawl more.

So, when Lee told you that he booked two seats on a plane to get to the infamous hot spring, (the time of the explanation conveniently being when you were already miles from home in the goddamned car), you freaked out. That’s the lightest way you can put it.

“What the fuck do you mean we’re getting on a plane?” you ask, trying to keep your voice at a level wherein the taxi driver won’t hear your toddler-like complaints.

“Are you serious?” your friend fires back, although his title as a friend would have withered instantly if not for your genuine admiration for the guy. “It’s in Seoul, what did you expect us to do? Walk like twenty-thousand miles to get there?”

You let out a little hoarse laugh and clap your hands together sarcastically. Taking theater in high school has seriously influenced your ways. “You know I hate heights, Lee! Oh, and what a great argument you have there: using that White Chicks song to defend yourself. Really mature.”

“That’s A Thousand Miles, you moron!” Lee punches your shoulder. “I already booked a flight, so you either go through or go home. Deal with it.”

You’d have chosen the latter, but you really don’t want to drag your heavy bags home. The roads have been crossed and the wheels have rolled—you can’t back out now. It would break the whole puzzle from the first jigsaw piece to the last. 

Besides, you did tell yourself that it was time to step out of your comfort zone. It would take blocking out flashbacks of when the plane made an emergency landing back when you were four years old and on a family trip, but no one promised that it would be easy. 

The driver flashes the two of you dirty looks. You and Lee immediately take the hint to calm down and save the conversation for later.

Entering the airport and discovering that the drop-off place is underground reminds you of the second closest thing to the Devil incarnate: the cursed invention that is the elevator. 

Choose any elevator out there: an office elevator, a Barbie dreamhouse rope-controlled one, or the other unholy name they take up which is “lift.” Whatever and wherever doesn’t matter. You hate all of them equally, the contempt in your heart going out for each one that exists. It doesn’t matter which form they transform into. You will always hate them with every piece of your soul.

It just turns out that perhaps your overly paranoid gut feelings were right this time, for today, you experience the worst of not one, but two hells of your worst fears.

“You know,” say out loud as you suspiciously examine every cramped corner of the elevator, “I have to start saying no sometimes. I don’t need this, man.”

Lee scoffs. “You say ‘no’ all the time.” He tracks the numbers going up on the little screen above the elevator buttons. “You should actually start doing the opposite.”

Once again, guilt runs through your blood like a drug. It definitely won’t be a recreational one; you realize through it that all your life, you’ve sheltered yourself in a bubble where no discomfort could ever pop in and welcome itself into your home. It’s carried on into adulthood and, like that of an irritating intrusive thought, won’t leave. It’s a painful discovery, and you don’t want to think about it more.

The elevator seems to shrink around you. You can only think of how there would be the plane to not look forward to as well, and you feel even sicker.

One step at a time, buddy. One step at a time.

The gray doors part and welcome you to a floor of marble, promotional tarpaulins that hang from the high ceiling, and lots of people. You release a breath of relief.

“Look, I’m sorry, man,” says Lee. He rolls his luggage out of the claustrophobia-causing nightmare and shrugs. 

It’s his second apology of the day. He tries to play it off with small smiles, but he’s obviously down. He’s never forced you to do stuff you weren’t comfortable with until now, and because of that, it’s ruining the trip. You’re ruining the trip. It hasn’t even fully begun yet.

“You don’t have to say that all the time, you know.” 

“I know, but I…” He shakes his head. “I just want to have a nice vacation with my closest friend. I’m sorry if I keep pushing your limits—”

“My limits are anything that make me feel, like, even the slightest bit uncomfy,” you inform him with a small, lighthearted grin. “Don’t feel bad about it. You’re still a dick, though.”

“And you still don’t know what A Thousand Miles is.”

Scoff and walk faster. You and Lee meet each other’s gazes along the way and grin. It’s how you know everything’s going to work out.

Your wristwatch says that it's nearly one a.m.. Explains why your eyelids are heavy, but you keep going. If you persevere, the inevitable sleep on the flight would distract you from everything. Make your world lighter for just a few hours. Jetlag’'ll come around, though, but fending off flight anxiety is your main concern now. 

Climbing into the plane, you find your seats. Lee calls dibs on the window seat, which you have no problem giving to him. The light clouds in the dark sky and the shining city lights beneath them all may look photogenic, but it's a far cry from fascinating to you. It's a nightmare, a complete opposite from beautiful.

"Soda or coffee?" asks the flight attendant. She's pretty—she looks like she could be the Nation's Sweetheart with her youthful face and timid yet polite smile. 

(Wait…)

You don't drink either of them anyway. Soda's too carbonated, and coffee would just keep you awake. That’s the last thing you need to be. "Water, please."

"Boring," Lee says. He turns to the flight attendant. "I'll take both, if you please."

"Seat 1112, am I correct?"

"Sure are." He leans back onto the armrest and smiles.

You roll your eyes at Lee practically making heart eyes at the flight attendant. He's trying to look all cool, too. Shake your head as you drink from the water bottle the woman gave you.

"I apologize, sir, but your payment doesn't cover two drinks. May I offer you water instead?"

Water streams out of your nose. Laughs shake your chest and shoulders. The poor old lady over at the front rows looks at you curiously. A man's stifling his laughs while Lee tries to debate which party should be more embarrassed: him or you.

A fair tie?

“That was so not cool, man,” Lee grumbles. He lifts the cup full of mineral water to his lips and drinks it halfheartedly. 

“Hey, not my fault you only think with your dick.”

“Whatever. Fine.” He looks at the attendant serving other people again. “She kinda looks like IU, doesn’t she?”

You tilt your head. He could be right; you might have caught a glimpse of a camera around the corner. Maybe she was doing a variety show role? And with that face looking strikingly identical with Korea’s household name, there’s a chance that his attempt to pick the Lee Jieun up was just broadcasted on live television. 

Wipe your mouth. “You like IU, too, don’t you?” you ask.

Lee shrugs. “Her surname isn’t for nothing, ain’t it? She’s like my number two after Nayeon.”

“And you realize that you’re probably gonna get eaten up by her fans on Pannchoa if she’s really IU?”

“Yep,” your friend says with a nonchalant tilt of his head. “Who cares? Anybody in Korea would die to have IU in his life, or at least, someone who looks like her.”

You have a feeling that it foretells something that would change the trajectory of your lives forever. How and why, you don’t know. You guess you’ll just have to survive the flight to find out.

It takes a long time to get you to find out. The whole ride is a headache. Turbulence knocks the plane side to side, and you’re constantly bumped awake from your sleep. You’re thankful that you didn’t choose to get risky and choose the window seat. If you did, you’d have multiple fears of suddenly falling from the sky and into an ocean called the Middle of Nowhere. You try to get Lee to pull the small blinds of the window down to soothe your fears, but he’s too fascinated by how the clouds wisp and wane over the wings of the plane. He did give in to letting you use his blanket, though, so you decide that it’s okay.

Landing is a different story. Your palms feel numb after holding onto the armrests for so long. They lose color, stiffening upon the solid coping mechanism and persevering the best they can. While the others, especially the older men, clap politely after the plane meets earth again, you sit there breathless. 

“Wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Lee asks. He’s clapping, too, earning the approval of an old American guy to his right. 

Glower. “Fuck you."

-

You have to admit: it is quite a nice place. You'd say that to Lee, but you're still in a bad mood after the flight. 

The hot spring lifts your spirits anyway. Small well-furnished buildings reserved for the esteemed guests (a.k.a you and Lee) stand to the side while the hot spring pools are modestly curtained. Tangled lights pepper the poles, making Christmas come early. The night pairs up with it to make shadows on the grass. 

You feel like a rich man. Rich men aren’t exactly all that honest, but you’re truthful when you say that perhaps it was a good idea to join Lee on the trip.

"Now remember," Lee tells you, dressed in a pair of swimshorts like you, "the expensive places like this one separate the women from the men. So you gotta be careful."

"Sounds like my old Sunday school." Translation: easy to follow.

Sunday school also taught that greed isn’t good. That’s one thing you can’t reject because you crave for more of this place. The clear, chlorine water seeping into the grass from the brim of the pool and the large buffet set out on a long table before the hot springs all draw you closer to more than one of the seven deadly sins. You want more of this rare luxury even if you’ll bite off more than you can chew.

At least you have Lee as your partner on the highway to hell.

"All I'm saying is," he pulls back the curtain of one of the pools and gestures a welcoming hand, "be mindful 'cause—"

"Hey, what the fuck!"

You almost jump out of your flip-flops. Look around to see who screamed, then realize you have nowhere to look but forward. 

There lies (swims?) your answer: a young, red-haired woman is in the warm water, glaring as she covers up her body. There's not much to cover when her exposed tight midriff already has ample show space below the bikini, but the shock in her eyes shows that there's more to this than modesty. She was doing something she never intended to be seen.

Looks like your friend didn't live up to his words about carefulness. He just invaded the women's pool. And now you're pulled into the mess and could be fined for this and that. You're already broke enough as is, so the irritableness inside you grows again.

"Oh my god," Lee says. He looks curious despite the shock on his face. Seeing this girl is like deja vu—he swears on his life he’s seen her before.  "I'm so sorry. W-we, we didn't…we're sorry, miss—"

"It’s Xiaoting," the girl says. "Be careful, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

Her name rings a bell, but it’s only a light sound. You swear you’ve heard of her somewhere—that face belongs on magazines, and with the hot spring being the go-to for celebrities, there’s a big chance she’s a famous name. 

Lee swallows. He sees it, too. "Is it the wrong time to say that you look just like IU?"

"Don't flatter me," Xiaoting says, though the venom in her words is suddenly stranded. Those red cheeks can't be induced by the fancy lights. "You can't just disturb a girl with her me time. Fucking leave."

Me time?

Slowly, all the pieces fall into place. You realize that the shock Xiaoting showed isn’t because of the pool regulations and restrictions about the guests, but because she’s doing something far more bold. Now you understand why her fingers, still covering her top, are wrinkled even when the red locks of her head aren’t wet.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” Xiaoting rolls her eyes. “I’ve been dying to get fucked all day.” 

“What?” you ask, your voice ridden with confusion from the sudden realization.

She eyes your stomachs, quads, and faces. Her big eyes are cameras—they sweep down your body and Lee’s own with accurate focus. You suddenly feel like shrinking into a small creature just to escape the power of her stare. In one way or another, she still brings her intimidating idol persona outside of the stage.

She drops her arms from her neck and shows off the whole of her body. It’s slim yet toned, gathering the most power in her midriff lined with light abs and her thighs that look delicious even when submerged in water. The black top and bottoms hug her figure so well it’s starting to look as if she had them personally handmade and tailored to look fantastic on her. 

“And those cocks,” she continues, looking at your crotches with a lick of her lips, “look perfect. Big enough to give my insides a good rearranging, you know?”

You and Lee look at each other, then back at Xiaoting. None of you expected that, even from a woman whom you assumed just masturbated in the pool. And whose name starts to sound more and more familiar.

"Are you…" you dare to ask.

"Shen Xiaoting," she replies. She's slowly stepping out of the pool. You'd die to be the water caressing her thighs. "You know Kep1er, don't you?"

Lee nods dumbly. 

She smiles. "I thought so. I knew you'd recognize me after you said I looked like IU."

"For what it's worth," your friend says, stumbling on his words, "I like IU. A lot. I got to know you when, uh, fans on Twitter said you looked like her."

"Would you fuck me like you want to fuck her?"

Now he has no words to stumble on. "I… uh…"

"Your friend doesn’t look too sure,” Xiaoting says after she turns to you. Resting her head on one side, she adds, charmingly: “How about we show him the real deal? Make him give in?”

You can’t believe what she’s saying. It’s both too good and too bad to be true. The first factor to this that’s a pro and a con is that she’s an idol. Didn’t she just say that she’s from Kep1er? If one of the hot spring staff couldn’t keep their mouth shut, a scandal would spread on news sites and social media alike that Kep1er’s visual and main dancer just fucked a random guy. Two random guys if this escalates. 

You can’t give in.

Xiaoting massages your shoulders.

You won’t give in.

And she runs her fingers along your chest and down to the band of your swimshorts. She pulls it down.

You shan’t give in.

Afterwards. she fishes your cock out from your gray underwear. You’re hard. She’s smiling.

You’ll never give in.

She pumps it. Her hand is as soft as it looks. The added texture from the wrinkles stimulates you more in a way that’s so fucked up it shouldn’t be allowed to happen. You bite your lip to break the moan that nearly escaped your lips.

Xiaoting drops to her knees.

You give your all.

Xiaoting kisses your tip then tickles your slit with the soft edge of her tongue. You exhale too loudly for her not to grin mischievously. Her bright eyes shouldn’t look so innocent when her full lips graze along your length, sealing at the base then harshly sucking all the way backwards. But they do, and you can’t look away. 

She’s trapped you. You’re a little embarrassed at how a girl who’s only met you and knows all the risks that come with fucking you still manages to reduce you to groans because you should be the bigger person here. You should play the devil’s advocate and tell her to get away from you with her nonsense and stupidly soft lips and irritatingly beautiful face. You should push her away. Yes, she should do everything but come closer; she should—

“Fuck me,” you breathe raspily.

“‘Course I will,” Xiaoting answers with a smile that’s too pretty for her own good. She faces your friends and flashes him a quiet smile. “Jealous yet?”

“No,” Lee answers. 

“Hm. I can do something about that.”

She deepthroats you, welcoming your bulge into her tight neck and letting it thrust in and out. The closeness of her airway greets you when you push, and her slick, wet mouth begs you to come back when you exit. It leaves you in a frenzy of indecisiveness—you don’t know what to choose: keep bluntly thrusting into Xiaoting’s throat or let your cockhead glide along her lips. Again, she makes you dizzy. Helpless. Weak.

“You sure know how to suck a dick,” says Lee enviously. The tightness of his shorts can’t hide his erection. 

Xiaoting pulls back. “Oh, I do,” she says. “I can do two things at once, if you know what I mean.” She levels him with a schemeful stare. “I’m very good at it.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks meekly. Her bottom lip juts out, “Want me to show you?”

Whenever Lee watches Kep1er’s V-lives or variety shows, he takes Xiaoting as someone who’s silent but forgiving. But now that he’s actually met her, he finds out that she’s the type of girl who doesn’t take no for an answer. If it weren’t already obvious from her rubbing his cock over his bottoms and her mouth sucking you away, she always gets what she wants. She might like to play quiet and innocent, but it’s clear that she isn’t any of that.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps. Her palm’s soft and smooth over the sensitive flesh of his erection. “Xiao– Xiaoting… you’re so—”

“Oh, so now you want to fuck me?” 

“I—uh—”

“Say it.” Xiaoting replaces her mouth on your cock with a furious, pumping hand and prods your friend on. Now she’s jerking the two of you off at the same time and leaves no second for you to breathe. “Say that you want to fuck me.”

“I want to fuck you, Xiaoting,” Lee says. He closes his eyes and hisses. “We want to fuck you so bad.”

You nod in agreement. Both of your male moans fill the air, making Xiaoting’s smile grow wider. She’s finally getting what she wants, and she’s not going to stop until it blooms to something better. She can already imagine being fucked by the two of you. She bets it’ll be better than just watching an old porn video.

The cause of the thrill is recognizable. Yujin could walk into the pool at any time and scream at the boldness, and if you and Lee weren’t trustworthy, she’d end up on the news and ruin her career. It’s the risk of being caught that quickens her jerking of your cocks, that makes her smile like never before.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” she coos. “You want to cum all for me so much it’s pathetic. But I like it, so don’t you worry. And I won’t mind if you shower me with your hot cum either, so do it.”

The pace of her hand jerking you off matches the speed of the one she’s using on Lee. Your breaths and moans mix with his, and you’re driven on by the redheaded girl nodding in encouragement. Her little nods remind you of how she took your cock so effortlessly just a few minutes ago, and you’re getting worked up again. 

“Getting excited, I see,” Xiaoting remarks, noting the thrusts the two of you fire into her closed fists.  “Make sure it isn’t for nothing. Cum on my face, my body, I don’t care. Just do it.”

Her soft voice is addicting; how can it pronounce such bold, dirty words while keeping the same touch of innocence to it? You don’t know what or why, but you don’t care anyway. You’re only going after the high that’s so close you can taste it. Maybe Xiaoting can taste it. You wouldn’t want anything less than that. 

On the other hand, you could go for more.

On Xiaoting’s other hand, Lee erupts. She closes her eyes in delight as he paints her with his overflowing semen. Her delicate face is caked with the bold fluid when it shouldn’t be—Xiaoting’s face should only ever be used in sweet, nostalgic commercials, not blasted with cum. But it is, and on the first impact, she immediately lets her tongue stick out. It’s the lewd expression on her face while doing it that finally makes you explode on her. 

A lot of it ends up on her face, but the lucky droplets slide down to her mouth. Xiaoting’s heart bursts with satisfaction at the most inappropriate of things, and this is the highest on the list of them. To be showered with cum by two anonymous men who could do anything with her if they please makes her shiver. She wants it. She wants you most of all.

And so when she gets up, she says, with a tone that warns the two of you that consequences will be consequences if you refuse: “Let’s get out of here.”

-

You end up in another place: her room. This day has just been setting change after setting change. You’re grateful that this one is well-furnished, though—any other bed would break if Lee had thrown Xiaoting like that on it. 

She likes it, however; she props herself up on the mattress after it went on with a wide smile. It’s more seductive than it should be, and for that reason, you pull off her shorts while Lee lifts her top over her body.

You’re not usually this confident. You like to stand at the side and let everything take its course. But Xiaoting just ignites something in you. She brings out a lust-crazed animal inside you that survives by fucking her numbless.

Maybe it’s her body that’s making you this way? Her arms and waist are thin, but her thighs are fuller than you expected. You part them and discover that her pussy is the same way. Her pink, puffy lips are soaked, and you’re here to clean her up.

“Oh my god, what are you doing… ahhh!” 

Xiaoting’s cry approaches a scream as you tongue her fat pussy. First, you flick her clit with a sudden expertness. Then, you latch your lips around it and give her the most powerful suction you can muster. Her wetness instantly floods your face. When she throws her head back to open her mouth, Lee comes up to make sure it’s put to good use.

“Suck me off, Xiaoting,” he tells her. “Like a good girl.”

How could she be a good girl? How could she be a well-behaved little thing when your tongue is completely ruining her, slick against her lips then wild inside her twitching hole? Xiaoting doesn’t think she can, but this is what she’s dreamed of. This is what she wanted, so she’ll go through it gladly.

Lee learns from her habits at not taking “no” for an answer and dips his hips on her face. Her lips spread and take his cock fully. She whines and tries to relax her throat to take his length, but her neck still ends up with a bulge imprinted on its flesh. 

Her engorged clit experiences the best of pleasure as your lips massage it. She finally screams and bucks her hips into your face, but you hold her down by her luscious thighs. Squeeze them, then spank them. There’s an unexpected voice inside you commanding you to pepper her creamy thighs with handprints again and again. You’d love to corrupt the paleness of her soft flesh with red. Mark her that way. Tell her that she got what she wanted. You want to see her twitch and cry and moan for more, and you want to give it to her since hell, who are you to reject Shen Xiaoting?

So, you give in to the voice. Let it control you and raise your hand to her right thigh. You squeeze in time with Lee’s thrusts into her mouth. Her lower body lifts off the bed, but you pin her down again anyway. As revenge, her thighs curl around your head and keep you locked to her center. But it can’t be revenge when you relish it, can it?

“Fuck, her mouth is so fucking good,” Lee groans. His balls hit Xiaoting right in her pretty face, and she makes sure to dedicate at least a few licks to fuel his lust. “Told you this vacation was gonna be good. Getting a pretty girl to use.”

What are you even supposed to say to that? Your fears get the best of you again. You’re afraid to sound off to Xiaoting if you say the wrong word. Her pretty cunt just addles your brain that no words can be formed. They translate into actions, like pulling your lips away from her pussy and rubbing at her clit.

“Hnnnn!” Xiaoting cries. Her hips gyrate, and it’s your job again to keep her on the bed. You can’t do anything about the wet sheets, though. You can’t stop Xiaoting’s violent squirting as your rubbing at her core grows more frequent and harsh.

Lee pulls out of her mouth. A rain of white damages her face, but it’s the very storm in which she screams to the fullest. She’s tapping out, unable to handle the furious flicks at her clit. She barely has the strength to lift herself up, but she tries anyway for the purpose of seeing how her squirt flashes out from under her engorged clit, where you thumb and lick energetically. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t!” she says, eyes not bothering to open anymore. “Please make me cum more, I can’t take it!”

Her words contrast each other, but you take the initiative to avoid stopping. You slip two fingers inside her to fill her desperate pussy and place your lips on her nub. Your rhythms are mismatched, but they’re perfect enough to make Xiaoting’s toes curl. 

“Look at these pretty tits,” Lee says. He comes up from behind Xiaoting to wrap his hands fully around her small, painted chest. Pinching her nipples, he kisses her neck. “So perfect. You like this, Xiaoting?”

What other answer is truthful except for the whiny, shouted “Yes!” she replies? 

Xiaoting leans back into his chest and kisses him. While Lee toys with her sensitive nipples as she screams and begs, you suck her clit harshly. It pulses between your lips. Although it’s clear you’re draining her, stopping is an impossibility. You’re high on Xiaoting, and you want to do everything but come down.

“Cum— cumming, cumming so hard!” she mumbles. Lee’s kisses on her neck rake up her sensitivity. “Please make me cum, gonna cum again, too much, please!”

As she promised, your mouth is filled again with her sweet nectar. You could live on it; you could have Xiaoting sit on your face each day for her cum to heal your shortcomings as if you were a god. But you decide that’s enough for now, and sighs heavily in relief. She relies on your friend’s chest to keep herself up.

“Y-you eat me so well,” she says appreciatively. “You’re so good.”

Your blush is almost as red as her hair. “Thanks, I guess,” you respond bashfully. 

“Hey, didn’t I fuck your mouth good, too?” Lee asks. He’s a little jealous hearing you get praised instead of him. Xiaoting is one of his heroes, that being the reason why he wants her approval, too. 

Xiaoting, suddenly full of energy, sits up straight and taps her chin. “I don't know, can your dick even fill me properly?”

You raise your brows. It’s a solid reminder that you and Lee may have spent all night ruining her body, but she still is the puppeteer. Her status, wants, and pretty face drag you around like strings, having you do whatever she wants you to do. She’s just insanely good at making it seem that you could do whatever to her. If she weren’t an idol, she could have been an actress.

“Oh yeah?” Lee sits up, too, and tries to hide the offense in his face. 

Xiaoting meets his gaze, unfaltering. “You heard me.”

“Alright then, I’ll fill you up,” he offers. He rises from the bed and stands with you. “He’ll fuck your mouth. Call it a spitroast, then we’ll see who’s better.”

Xiaoting’s eyes sparkle. He really doesn’t have a clue, does he? But he’s cute, and as much as she’d climb heights to avoid admitting it, he has a big cock. She can't wait for it to fill her up.

Excitement grips her skin as Lee pulls her up and bends her over the bed. His cock teases her hole. You take your place in front of Xiaoting. 

The first spank resounds. She winces, but she's biting her lip. You can see every lewd expression she makes with your position before her. You slap your cock on her cheek, and she moans delightfully. 

"That feels so good," she says, through ragged breaths. She runs a hand through her Ariel hair and smiles. Her grin glints with charm. "Come on, boys. Use me. You can do that for me, can't you? And—fuck."

Her pussy, still sensitive, reels helplessly. Lee has his cock penetrating her thighs, nudging her clit. It isn't even the real thing but she's already so weak. 

"Your thighs are amazing, Xiaoting," he tells her. 

"I know. Fuck them all you want, but don't forget to fill me up. You," she looks up at you and smirks, a fatal attack to your poor heart, "blow a big load in my mouth, okay?"

You nod. You brush your cockhead on her soft lips, then slowly enter her mouth. It's still as good as the first time, for her tongue knows how to work wonders on your length. She's all wet and hot, and although you envy Lee for having the chance to fuck her pussy, you think that this is good for now.

You and Lee pump into Xiaoting quickly. Both of her holes are incredibly wet. While her slick walls contract and hold on to his cock, her warm mouth moistens your length with sheen-coated pleasure. You're both knocking into her body, feeling her all over the place—her small bouncing tits, the ripples of her perfect ass, her wide hips; no place is left untouched. 

And, despite the violence of the intercourse as you fuck Xiaoting on both ends, she likes it. 

She doesn’t need to bob her head anymore to let your girth into her tight throat; Lee’s harsh thrusts from behind drive her mouth to swallow more of you. You’ve got your fingers in her hair, gathering them in one tight tail, so that there won’t be hindrance in facefucking her. So far, her face is the most perfect thing to fuck. Your hand, though a familiar dream, can’t compare to the way her eyes sparkle when her gaze meets yours, or the hollowing of her cheeks when she dares to push her limits. 

Or maybe she’s just that pretty.

“Too much for you now, Xiaoting?” Lee asks. He’s gripping the soft cheeks of her bubble butt then teasing the puckered hole. 

“You wish,” Xiaoting says, pulling away from your cock and jacking it off. You can’t really see her when she turns her head to your friend, but you can just tell that she’s got on the most bratty expression. Even her words alone can entice Lee to fuck the brat out of her.

“What about now?”

Xiaoting shimmies away after he slips a finger inside her tight asshole. Desperate not to show her vulnerability, she places her mouth on your cock again. Her moans reverberate and create breathy pleasure on your length, and you start to fuck her harder. You know she’s enjoying it; her face never shows anything other than bliss, and her moans increase despite her filled mouth. 

All her holes are filled, and it’s going further than she’s ever dreamed of. Your touch is everywhere, and she tries to sink into it wherever it goes, but it keeps roaming. She can’t keep up with the thumb on her clit. Or the fingers spreading her virginal ass. Or your cock defiling her mouth. Or—

“More, f-fuck!” 

The suction of her pretty lips increases. Xiaoting’s eyes are squeezed shut. The room fills with screams and she clenches down so hard that Lee fills her insides earlier than he’d like. 

“Holy shit, that’s it, Xiaoting,” he says. His groans almost match her screams. “Fucking cum all over this cock.”

Their cum mixes together, a lewd liquid that drips down the thighs he fucked earlier. Her moans are strained cries, ones you muffle with a few remaining thrusts. She counts your thrusts just like she did whenever she dances at the practice room, timing her licks with them. More witness dribbles down her skin at your moans, and she evokes more out of you as she swallows your complete length all in one go. Restricted by the closeness of her throat, you’ve no choice but to cum inside her mouth. 

“Xiao– Xiaoting…” You’ve lost all control over balance and logic. You sit back down heavily on the edge of the bed and try to keep up with your breath.

Xiaoting licks your cockhead one last time. She laughs when it twitches. Her lips are lined with white, hot cum. “You don’t talk much,” she says, then, as she pointedly looks at Lee, continues, “but you’re really cute.”

“That’s it.” Lee’s a jealous guy. He ’t take the poorly veiled method Xiaoting’s too good at: riling him up. He doesn’t let envy take hold of what he does, but now, lust has corrupted his mind. He was too turned on by the sight of Xiaoting’s perfect back curving with his thrusts, at the sloppy sounds of her blowjob. Everything about her oozes of sex, which is what he’s happy to do to her.

He throws her on the bed again. The soft landing doesn’t save the bounce of her ass, nor does it take away the pleasurable pain of Lee spreading her legs. Lee’s face is flushed with lust and jealousy. He takes it all out in slapping the puffy cunt the best he can. 

Xiaoting cries out with satisfaction when he spanks her cunt, even parking her crotch further into his hand. “Fuck, yes, keep doing that!” 

“Brat,” Lee spits. You’re silent, but you secretly agree with him, too. Xiaoting’s a bigger brat than she poses herself as.

“Alright,” she says. Raised brows, upturned smile, she quips: “Then fuck me like one.”

She isn’t denying it or anything, but she is running away from the consequences of being one. She’s gauging the reaction she wants from the two of you, making it seem like it’s the perfect thing to do to put her in her place when she’s only rising above. She seems to love the reaction Lee makes:

“I’ll go for her ass,” he says, pulling her into his lap. As he does, his cock slips inside the ringed hole. Xiaoting’s cracked gasp fills your ears. “You can have a turn on her bratty cunt.”

More sounds of lewdness and pleasure spill from her pretty mouth when Lee pushes his fingers inside her pussy and spreads the walls apart. You watch, with strange hooked fascination, as Xiaoting writhes at Lee scissoring his fingers inside her. Cum ribbons his fingers, but he keeps going, determined to batter Xiaoting down into a desperate passive. You’d say it’s working, for what it’s worth.

“Hnnn, so hot, I can’t—!” She looks down at her fingerfucked pussy and hisses. “Haah, fffuck, please don’t stop!”

Lee doesn’t stop for a while. He continues fucking her pussy with his digitis until she squirts. All the while her voice reaches new pitches. He ends with slapping her crotch over and over, wetting his hands with her liquid.

“Oh, oh god, so good!” she screams. You squeeze her taut nipples and rub your cockhead on her clit. “Keep doing that, I’m ‘bout to cum so hard!”

“Again?” you ask. She looks up at you, surprised you’re speaking, but her gaze breaks at your cock filling her entrance up. “You’re a little cumslut, aren’t you? It’s all you ever want to do: cum all over cock.”

Despite her surprise, she nods. It’s true, anyway, so what’s the point in denying it? And there’s really not much time to put up a fight when the two of you are filling both of her holes. 

Her ass aches, but Lee’s in heaven—her tight little asshole is heaven itself. The cum and wetness from her pussy serve as good lubricant to slide in and out of her, to spread and slap her bouncing cheeks. You’re in heaven, too, despite the sin you make of thrusting into Xiaoting’s silken cunt like it depends on your life. At times, you pull out to rub your cock on her lips, enjoying the puffed texture of it and the whine of need she makes.

Kisses are everywhere. You pepper Xiaoting’s lips with them, too engaged with how soft her lips are to regard the fact that your friend’s literal cock has been there, and Lee kisses her arms. You’re both keen on ruining all of her body, and that involves marking her as your own. For this night, anyway, but the night is still young; while it lasts, you might as well up the tempo of your thrusts and grope her body as much as you like.

You find that the parts of her form that you appreciate the most are her face, thighs, and pussy. You loved to paint her pretty face with your load, corrupting the innocence it exudes. You relish thinking, too, of how her thighs served as earmuffs around your head and almost crushed you with how full and muscular they are. Plus, her pussy’s so perfect, so tight that you don’t think you’d want any other. It clenches and grips with every thrust, sends her hands flying to the sheets and on the side of Lee’s face.

Shen Xiaoting’s insatiable. 

“So fucking big inside me!” she’s screaming, grabbing your ass so you’re compelled to ram deeper. Her eyes are wide, and her breaths barely come out anymore.  “Fuck my little pussy with that big cock, please, da—”

Lee vents his anger out on her clit. He abuses it with firm, circular rubs that make Xiaoting’s hips twitch into your cock. There’s truly no escape from the pleasure—there’s her ass filled repeatedly, and the violent thrusts in her cunt. Now, there’s the pinching of her nipples and the rubs on her clit to deal with. She could scream and crawl and whine, but mercy isn’t in the dictionary for tonight. She’s going to be fucked hard, just the way she wanted, and she’ll have to cope with it one way or another.

You part her legs as far as they could go. You’re impressed at how flexible she is; her years as a dancer have certainly brought good fruit. With this position you’re able to hold her thighs as much as you want while fucking her cunt deeper. Lee’s given the chance to bounce her ass on him with no trouble. Lastly, Xiaoting’s put in a state of bliss—to the front, she’s filled and from the back, she is, too, and she doesn’t think she could hold on much longer. There’s too many things going on: her nipples being toyed with and squeezed, her thighs being spanked, her clit being assaulted. She’s so close to another orgasm that, like the others, have gone uncounted.

It’s messy when she cums. The whole thing has been fluids upon skin and skin upon fluids, but this one in particular is plentiful. IHer cum spurts everywhere in a profane splash right into your and on the sheets. She’s screaming, too, a bunch of words that can’t be deciphered properly. It sends off the right message, anyway: she’s cumming more.

You quickly move over to Xiaoting’s nipples when you feel your climax approaching. It’s induced by curiosity, and it gets the better of you; swipe your tip side to side on her small, perky nipples. The new sensation is strange, but it sets a flame of pleasure on your length. Xiaoting moans, guiding her breast to your cockhead, and chewing on Lee’s bottom lip. 

Eventually, the stamina subsides, and all three of you collapse on the bed. No word is exchanged for a long time.

-

“You,” says Yujin menacingly, pointing accusingly at Xiaoting with a single index finger with utmost anger on her face, “are in so much trouble.”

Xiaoting wipes her hair down with a towel. It was difficult to shower when her legs could barely hold her up, but it’s done now. She has nothing to worry about. Technically, there is more to worry about: Yujin’s discovered what secret she’s been hiding, and she’s furious. But, to her surprise, she isn’t pent up about it. If anything, she’s rather proud.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replies. A white lie for a dark sin is still not counted, right?

“I… I saw you,” Yujin goes on. She’s walking around with Xiaoting as the younger girl paces in the room. “I saw you get out with those two guys!”

“And why would you assume anything happened?”

“Because there’s fucking cum on the floor, Xiaoting!” 

"Well." Xiaoting raises her hands in the air and sits down on the bed. "A girl’s gotta have fun.”

-

Unknown Number sent a message:

Hey ;)

If you want to do that again

You know where to call me

I’ll be waiting </3

[finnfrei]

Hope you don't mind me asking again of your bard and her dragonborn? 😅

It’s getting hard to refuse a chance to rant about them, especially now as we have finished the campaign🌝

I keep thinking about this one scene after Clio got back from an adventure that almost became the party’s last one. They got to meet the gods of their realm or those who claimed to be ones. One of them turned out to be her sister’s patron, the other unwillingly caused vivid nightmares that were haunting Clio for more than five years reminding her about the assault she and her sister barely survived. Our oathbreaker paladin also had a time of his life meeting the god he used to serve. The party almost died there trying to prevent the destruction of their civilisation and death of everyone they love along with it. Her sister did die in a way there.

After killing some gods and saving the world, learning and surviving things she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Clio got back home to the Iron City. She stormed to an ongoing council meeting in an iconic Aragorn at Helm’s Deep fashion, telling the story about what they’ve been through, explaining the recent global calamity and how they’ve managed to stop it. The utter awe on faces of other members of the council, including Hescan’s, brought bard the satisfaction she was seeking. Clio couldn’t quite grasp it but something was different about the way her chief looked at her. Last time she saw him he told her he was falling deep for her… or it was just a fever she had then, she couldn’t tell, she wasn’t sure. The man she was talking to through the communication ring during the adventure seemed to be the same unbothered and cold Dragonborn she knows for a few years now. Something shifted and for the first time she felt her hands sweating in his presence.

…

“I could’ve actually lost you this time,” he said in a quieter voice when they were finally alone and she noticed the slight shiver in chief’s voice. Clio’s heart clenched in her chest, he meant it. He worried about her.

That evening and the night that came after he was gentle, caring. That was new. Of course, he always made sure not to hurt her, unless she wanted to, but he never really expressed his affection like that. Not that it was unpleasant, it surprised and puzzled her.

…

“I was thinking…” he stumbled during a pillow talk a few hours later, “you know…maybe we should start spending more time together?”. She could’ve sworn she saw a blush coming through those emerald scales of his.

“I need to talk to you,” she sighed feeling tense and set up on the edge of the bed.

Hescan stood up, got around the bed, poured and passed a goblet of wine to the girl also taking one for himself.

“You know,” she started, “I believed my twin was dead there for some time. We had a huge fight right before that. All I could think about were things I should’ve told her or done and would never get a chance to.”

Hescan set quietly on his knees on the floor across from his little spy and was looking up at Clio as she proceeded, “And then I thought, what if we fail the whole “world saving” thing and I will never get to see you again. There’re things I regret I haven’t told you.” she stopped, trying to regain composure, “I have met someone,” she said avoiding looking at him at first, “He’s wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe and peaceful with anyone before.”

She could see the tension, anger and confusion building in his face.

“I feel seen. He looked into me and managed to bring back the girl even I believed was long gone, hiding under the myriad of different masks. He listens and he hears every word I say,” she smiles feeling already embarrassed of what she’s going to say next, “And despite all the common sense, I… I trust him.”

“What…” Hescan utters quietly, breaking the silence that filled the room. The look of anger, pain and the sticky feeling of betrayal washing over him.

“I trust him,” she repeats, “and I trust him my heart. I trust he will take good care of it.” Clio reaches with her hand and gently touches Dragonborn’s chest over his heart as she asks softly, “You will take care of it for me, wouldn’t you?”

The girl was waiting for a moment, watching as the anger on Hescan’s face changed to confusion and then the sparkle in his eyes as he glanced back at her when realisation finally hit him.

“I’m going to kill you!” he growled as he pounced at her, pushing her back on the soft bed. The girl giggled in his strong embrace, feeling the pressure of his body over hers.

“I need to hear it, my heart” she pleaded, pushing him away just enough to look him in the eyes.

He smiled softly and whispered, “I love you.” as he gently bit the arch of her neck, “you’re safe,” he followed with a kiss.

[spicyicetea]

Oh. My. God. Your bagel is bag.

OKA Y UHWMBELWBWKFVKDVFJ I LOVE LINK.

Anywayssssss I just thought of like BOTW link, before the calamity. AND I HAVE A CERTAIN SCENARIO IN MIND 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Imagine him and his other soldier buddies seeing you, and his soldier buddies being able to tell that he’s a total simp for you . . . AAAAKWHEKLQKWLEKE

Anyways yeah I thought of this while making churros 💪

Oh and also, yk that whenever I send like scenarios and ideas in here you don’t have to see them as requests, you can also just see them as me sharing my beautiful thoughts. 🤭🤭🤭

PS: AAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE LINK SIDHWKEVLQOQPEJF

Okay, I love the idea that Link is pussy whipped the moment he sets eyes on Y/N. But I want to merge this with an idea I had. Single mother Y/N! This is also gonna turn smutty, I can’t resist.

Warnings: Smut•

BOTW!Link x milf!Y/N

[Link is in his late 20s and Y/N is 25]

Link stared off at a woman walking by the knights he patrolled with. He always had a staring issue with her. Her body moved in a hypnotising way. A wicker basket dangled from her elbow as tiny hands grasped at the fruit she carried within. Her hair flicked wildly in the wind. He knew he shouldn’t look, but her downhill strides caused her heavy bosoms to bounce, his hands flexing at his sides craving to feel their weight.

One of the knights elbowed him in the side, getting his attention.

“Ha?” he muttered.

The knight just smirked and looked past Link to where he was once staring. He whistled and the woman turned and smiled at them. She waved her dainty little hand, oh how soft it looked. Maybe one day he could have that hand intertwined in his own. Kiss the blushed knuckles while sliding a ring onto her finger. That same delicate hand later wrapped around and pumping his-

“Link! She's coming over~” The knight teased, nudging his side.

Link’s eyes widened as he shuffled to hide his... friend, in his trousers with his shield. He couldn't be exposed to her like that yet, it was so indecent. The woman swayed her way over, hips dancing left and right. A dizzying tango catching the breath in his throat as he struggled to swallow his anxieties.

“Hello boys! Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon Miss Y/N! Where are the little scamps?” One of the knights asked.

She giggled, covering her soft, plump lips with her hand as she did. Two kids wormed past her skirt, one crawling through her legs to get through. The small children ran forth and grabbed Link’s tunic with a toothy grin.

“Mr Link, Mr Link! Momma, can we give him the stuff?” The little boy asked, excitedly hoping up and down.

“Hm, I think I have it in my basket,” Y/N rooted through her basket, pulling out an orange loaf of bread. “Here you go.”

The girl grabbed the loaf and giddy held it out to Link. He took it, looking at Y/N, blushing and confused.

“I wanted to thank you for helping b/n and g/n out a few days ago. You saved them from those Chuchus in the forest, so I made you some of my special pumpkin bread.”

Link smiled and took a bite out of the loaf, drooling at the smell alone. The taste was decadent and sweet. He chewed the bread eagerly, quickly going in for a second bite moments later. Y/N chuckled and grabbed his forearm.

“Calm down dear, eat slowly. I don't want you choking,” She smiled and rubbed his shoulder, his face going red as she lent closer, taking a small bite out of the bread he held. “It's not your job to choke, Linky~”

His face flushed bright red as his words caught in his throat. Y/N smiled as she watched the other knights walk away, talking to some civilians. Her tongue traced her lips as she dragged her finger down his arm before pulling it back and nudging his shield to the side. His eyes widened and he gulped, her finger dragging down his chest, resting where his trousers started.

“Y/N...”

“So you can speak Linky! Your voice is so nice,” she smiled. “Are you alright? Am I being too forward? Your friends here told me that you liked me, maybe they assumed wrong.”

She went to pull her hand away but he gripped her wrist tightly, his arm shaking from the panicked motion. He panted while looking at her and she stepped closer, sliding her hand into his trousers. Her finger played with the waistband of his boxers before he pulled her closer with her free hand.

“Please, don't tease me. I can't wait any longer.”

“Oh you're adorable, I'm surprised you've lasted this long. I have been playing with you for a while.”

“What?”

“You haven't noticed? Always giving you “spare” pastries. Unbuttoning my blouse saying it's hot to give you a peek?” Y/N raised a brow leaning closer, pressing her breasts against his chest.

Link bit his lip as Y/N’s other hand tucked a white cloth into his shirt as her other pulled his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring up against his navel. She circled the tip with her finger, smiling innocently at him as the creamy precum coated her finger. He lent further into her touch, biting his lip as the bread dropped from his grip. His shield and bread rest on the ground beside him as they fumbled back against a wall, tall crates hiding them from public view.

Link’s hands grasped her waist as she began pumping his cock in her hand. One of his hands hungrily dove past the waistband of her long skirt and into her underwear. She gasped as his finger prodded at her hole and she stilled her teasing pumps.

“Ah, Link.” She sighed in pleasure.

“Y/N, I can't let you please me and not give you the same treatment. Come on darling, where did that confidence go?” link smirked, flipping the two around so Y/N was pinned to the wall.

He forced his middle finger past her slick folds and onto her tight hole. She whimpered and let her head fall back and rest on the all. Her hand continued pumping on his cock. The tip was red and angry, dribbling precum over her hand. He groaned against her neck as he continued to pump and curl his fingers inside her delicate walls. She moaned loudly as her tongue lulled out of her mouth and he bucked his hips into her fist.

“Link!” She squealed, gushing onto his fingers.

He sank his teeth into her neck as she let out a strangled moan. His body caged her in as he continued fucking his cock into her fist, his cum decorating her skirt in white ribbons. Their heavy pants dance in unison as her arm falls limp against her side. Link’s dick goes limp as he pulls his fingers out of her pussy. He goes to wipe his hands off on his shirt but she grabbed his wrist and shook her head.

“What's wrong?” Link asked with a concerned face.

Y/N just whined and forced Link's hand towards his lips, pushing his fingers into his mouth. He let out a confused noise but gulped as he watched her slide her cum covered fingers into her mouth. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth as he watched her clean her fingers of his cum. He mimicked her, licking her slick from his fingers. They pulled apart and fixed their clothes as quickly as they could.

While fumbling with her buttons, Y/N stepped on the dropped bread. She gasped and stumbled slightly before chuckling.

“Oh no, I guess I’ll have to make you some more bread. Maybe you can stop by later?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

He grinned and pulled her in for a sweet, passionate kiss. His hands rub her sides as she giggles into the kiss, still fixing her clothes. As they part, she uses her basket to hide the white, sticky stains on her skirt. He rushes to fix his collar, pulling the fabric she had tucked into it in the heat of the moment. She gives him and his knight friends a shy wave as she rushes away with her twins excitedly telling her about how cool the knights were.

“What do you have there Link?” One of them asks. “You two were talking for a while...”

Link just stares silently at the lacy bra she had slipped him without him noticing. He bit his lip to hide his excitement before shoving it down his shirt to hide it and turning to the others.

“Oh, we just spoke about her kids... I'm going to give her more...” he growled, watching her hips sway as she left.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, don't worry.” He smiled to himself.

There you go, dude! Hope you enjoyed the sin, my little bagel bite. @rainstops

[missmonsters2]

—JOUSKA | THREE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Something and nothing at all changed. Wednesday is all too aware of the distance and the horrifying realization that if she wants to be closer, than she'll have to make the first move. Cue compulsively replaying a hypothetical conversation.

Warnings: Angst. Distracted!Wednesday. Wednesday generally being Bad At Feelings™️. Enid's wise words. Thing—the opportunist. Xavier absent but still not safe from Wednesday's roasts. Blood.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: This was intense to write, but it'll only get more intense! Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺

Part Two

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Jouska: Noun. A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Something and nothing at all has changed since that night. 

"Hi, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes catch yours as she watches you flanked by two gorgon girls. You've got a white stick of a lollipop hanging in your mouth at the side, the grape confection already finished, but you don't like littering (unlike some of these other heathens at the academy).

Wednesday doesn't say anything back, but she does slow her walking down subtly, her brows relaxes and expression neutral as she looks at you. A nod of acknowledgment is all that is needed to satisfy you as you smile at her before looking away.

It's been like that since that night—the same acknowledgment, and it's all Wednesday can think about.

They've bonded, haven't they? Enid certainly said so. And if that was the case, why were you the same distance away? 

Wednesday can only think back to that night. 

"Black wings are the mark of a night faerie."

Wednesday doesn't rush her response. This was one of those moments, the one Enid was constantly telling her to be delicate about. 

The right words—Wednesday needed the right words.

It reminded her of when she first encountered the photo of herself from Rowan, and how she, too, thought she was destined for (bad) calamity. 

"Sometimes the dark doesn't cause calamity but rather is what no one expects at all," Wednesday looks at you, her eyes focused. "The solution."

But even as you give Wednesday a soft smile, she can see something dim behind your eyes, and the taste of utter defeat burns Wednesday's throat, knowing it wasn't the exact right words.

So, Wednesday was at a standstill. 

And she was also far from finding a nickname for you that she'd allow everyone to call you. The only bright side was everyone else was somehow doing worse than her with their suggestions despite her not having offered anything at all. 

There was a distance, Wednesday realizes. One that you seemed content to let be. 

Wednesday feels jolted by the realization that she's been fairly spoiled and blessed in her life (even if she didn't feel it at the moment). It had always been Wednesday who chose to keep her distance from those around her. She had her own interests and had been content to put them above everyone else. 

But ever since coming to Nevermore, her little ragtag of misfits—especially Enid—had intrusively barged into her personal space. Wednesday only had to take a small step forward, and everyone else had closed the distance. 

Everyone except you.

Wednesday Addams would never deny the fact that she wasn't free from things like desire. She desired many things: rain, mysteries, victory, the fear of others, and whatever things could be described as morbid.

She told her mother that she would never be like her—never fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family. And she had meant it at that moment (although she was very sure she'll never be a housewife). 

And really, it's not like Wednesday loves you or anything. But Wednesday has once felt enough to kiss a boy (who turned out to be a serial killer), and when she thinks of Enid, Eugene, and Xavier, she does feel like she has a strange little group to call a family of her own. She begrudgingly accepts Bianca to something like a distant, irritating cousin.

You piqued her curiosity very early on with your unintrusive smiles and waves. Now, you had an enigmatic background and a perhaps sense of self-preservation to remain distant. But it was too late. 

Wednesday desires mystery, and she desires you. 

They're not mutually exclusive.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Blood drips down from Wednesday's cheek. She touches her finger to the cut and looks at it curiously.

"You're distracted, Addams." 

Wednesday looks back to Bianca, who somehow manages to look both smug and concerned. While being beaten by Bianca again still leaves the feeling of self-pity, her rage is directed at herself. 

"And yet, you barely managed to defeat me," Wednesday drawls. 

"Well, pull your head out of the dark, gray clouds and focus so I can put you in your place again without your excuses," Bianca shoots back without hesitation. 

Wednesday starts to move into position when the coach halts it and tells her to go to the infirmary to take care of her cut. Clenching her jaw, Wednesday puts her equipment away and leaves the room. 

The cut stings, and Wednesday knows it was her own fault that Bianca cut her too deep. She was distracted. She has been lately ever since her realization that if she wanted to close the distance, she would have to be the one to intrude in your space. 

The problem was that Wednesday only knew how to intrude into someone's space when she was suspicious they were a serial killer—accusing and without permission. 

And thus, Wednesday has been afflicted with hypothetical conversations her brain refused to stop producing. It was costing her sleep, and now the victories that should belong to her. 

"Wednesday!" 

Turning around, Wednesday sees Enid skipping her way down toward her. The blonde frowns when she glances at Wednesday's cheek and pulls out a white handkerchief. It’s the only colorless fabric she owns. "Fencing?"

Wednesday nods, accepting the cloth as she dabs it against her face, wiping at her jaw where it dripped.

"Lose?" Enid winces in pain. 

A dark look crosses Wednesday's face, and Enid quickly changes the subject. 

"Are you excited for parents' weekend?" Enid asks. "I'm surprised Principal Weems has made it so early in the year. I hear she's making changes so parents visit once at the beginning of the year and once at the end of the year."

"If by excited you mean begrudgingly accepted it, yes," Wednesday monotones.

"But it'll be interesting to see who the fairy godmother's parents will be, right?" Enid rocks on her toes in anticipation. "I heard her dad is, like, a high lord or something."

The comment does spark interest in Wednesday. She is curious about the two people who had loved you so much that they took you out of isolation and parted ways with you in this safe haven. 

Assuming that they could visit you, anyway.

"That's also a witless sobriquet," Wednesday comments absentmindedly.

Enid only huffs. 

"Enid," Wednesday calls evenly.

"Hm?"

"How—why—" Wednesday takes a deep breath as her eyes close for a moment. When she opens them, she finds Enid staring at her curiously with an amused smile. Wednesday knows it was because she’s never this inarticulate, but Enid is gracious enough to not say anything about it and waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts. 

As patiently as she can, it seems.

"Not to rush you, but you should probably hurry on and say whatever it is you want to say so you can get on to the infirmary. The cut is starting to soak through my handkerchief," Enid gently pushes. 

Wednesday grinds her teeth for a second before sighing through her nose lightly. 

"How did you decide on how you wanted to be closer to me?" Wednesday asks, leaving as much emotion out of her tone as possible but cringing at her sentence. "Especially since it was obvious I wanted to keep my distance."

Enid's lip twitches, and Wednesday already regrets asking, but before she can turn around and leave, Enid answers. "Well, in your case, I think it was easier for me to tell you didn't really want to be alone, so I didn't ask."

Wednesday makes a vague face of disgust while Enid continues on. 

"But in your case," Enid stresses, smirking at Wednesday's unblinking face. "I think you should ask to do something together to be closer."

Wednesday's eyes flicker as she processes Enid's words. The memory of Tyler's efforts to take her to the catacomb, how he set up lights, and a movie pops into her mind. 

"Like a date," Wednesday says slowly, and horrification begins to set in.

"Er, I think that's a little too advanced for you," Enid cuts in quickly. "Maybe just try to find a way to spend more time together casually but consistently."

Enid looks at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. Yoko and I need to start planning for the boat race this year." With that, Enid happily skips down the hallway. She turns around once and yells, "Oh, don't forget to wash the blood out of my handkerchief. I trust you'll know how to do that!"

Wednesday nods before she continues on her way to the infirmary. When she enters, she sees Weems talking to someone sitting on a cot behind the curtains. 

"I'm happy you've found a friend to help you, but I'm concerned—" Weems stops as soon as she sees Wednesday, frowning as she sees the cut and then sighs, "Coach Vlad had told me you and Bianca frequently spared without your helmets. I had hoped he was joking."

The curtains suddenly opened, and Wednesday wasn’t surprised. She could tell it was you by your silhouette. 

Immediately the hypothetical conversations she's been creating pops into her mind again.

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile with a short wave before you eye her cut. "Hope the other person looks worse off."

Weems clicks her tongue in disapproval, but Wednesday's lip twitches upward slightly. 

The principal is about to say something else when a small, lanky boy walks in. He clutches his wrist, but Wednesday can’t make out his feature with his overgrown fringe covering his eyes. He seems to see just fine, though, as his posture stiffens at the sight of you.

"O-Oh, F-Fae," he starts to say but then stutters. "No, sorry, I-I mean—"

"It's fine," you wave away his attempt at saying your name. "Did you hurt yourself in psychitect?"

He nods.

"I suppose I should go find the nurse. She went down to the cafeteria for a quick snack," Weems says before she looks at you. "We'll finish our conversation later."

"It's fine," you wave it off. "I can help Wednesday. We’ll be gone before you’re back."

Weems purses her lips in disapproval, but you just give her a look back. Sighing, Weems nods before she turns to walk out. "Glad to see you fitting in more this year, Wednesday. It's pleasant to see you in my office less."

"It's too early in the year still," Wednesday haughtily replies, eyes trailing Weems as she leaves the room. 

"Come along, Henry."

Once alone, Wednesday's eyes trail to you. 

"Well, take a seat," you stand up and gesture to the cot near her as you rummage through the cabinets. 

"I can do it myself."

"I'm sure you can," you absently say as you move bottles back and forth in search of something. When you find it, you turn around with a lopsided smile. "But I assure you I can do it better."

Wednesday only raises her eyes challengingly but sits down as you sit on the stool and roll over to her. She sits primly with her back straight as a rod when you come closer and closer. To allow your proximity, Wednesday has to open her legs for you to come between, being the one wearing pants. 

"Pretty nasty cut," you mumble, and Wednesday can smell grape lollipops. 

"I've had worse."

"Bragging, I see," you smirk as you put on gloves and use tweezers to soak a gauze pad in saline solution. "Xavier did tell me you took an arrow for him once."

"Xavier has an abnormally large mouth," Wednesday speaks tersely with a furrow of her brows. When you gently dab the soaked gauze pad on her cheek, it doesn’t sting, but Wednesday clenches her fists closed with your face so close. 

"I think he was bragging," you continue to dab. "Enid and Eugene have similar anecdotes. Thing, as well."

Wednesday huffs while you merely grin lightly. 

Enid's words and Wednesday's haunted hypotheticals were plaguing her again. 

"What were you and Weems talking about?" Wednesday asks to redirect the conversation. She had been curious since she walked in, as it seemed like a rather serious conversation. 

The thoughts aren’t going away.

"She was checking in after I told the nurse I had a friend to help me apply the medicine, and I'd only come in to do monthly examinations or if something serious happened."

Sometimes Wednesday isn’t used to people answering her questions so quickly and without pretense. She’s used to them being defensive. 

'Thing shouldn't be applying your medicine.' Wednesday clenches her jaw, refusing to let the thought slip out of her mouth. With you in sight, her mind refuses to stop the compulsive hypothetical conversations.

"I see," Wednesday says slowly. "And why is Weems so particularly concerned?"

"She's my legal guardian," you answer straightforwardly, inspecting Wednesday's wound as the bleeding slows. 

The sudden new information makes Wednesday blink. 

'If you use your brain and think about it, Thing is a disembodied hand with stitches all over. Do you think that's sanitary? Forget the fact that Thing is vain and does well in washing his hand and moisturizes.'

You put down the tweezers and take off the gloves. Lifting your fingertips, you hover them over the cut. Wednesday watches as you concentrate before warmth and tiny little firefly-like lights seeps onto her cheek. 

When it’s over, the sting of the cut is gone. Wednesday lifts her hand to touch her cheek and feels a thin bump of her skin scarred over. 

'I understand your need for secrecy. I've been told I lack regard for others’ safety but I have no intentions of being the reason for your untimely death.'

You turn to grab a tub of cream and unscrew the lid. "It's not exactly perfect, but better than the usual way," you say as if apologizing. "I'll get better at it as my wings heal."

"Your powers are linked to your wings?"

'And of course, I understand you don't prefer the nurse's care. Her touch is indelicate and I imagine your wings are sensitive.'

You hum and say quietly, "A lot of it, yes. Our wings are embedded into our backs and take root inside our bodies. It's why we usually die without our wings."

"And Weems is your guardian?" 

You nod. "Yes. As you know faeries stay in isolation, and faeries with my wings are...outcasts," you smirk. "My parents can't look after me like regular parents do because the more in contact with me they are, the more it exposes my location."

It makes sense. Whoever had done such abominable things to your wings should stay far, far away—lest they want Wednesday to find a way to paralyze them without taking their wings. 

Still.

Wednesday studies your face as you apply the scarring cream. Your parents must've been heartbroken and scared witless to take you out of isolation and have Weems take over guardianship. 

'As such, I must take responsibility for Thing and offer to take his place in applying your medication. This is an acceptable trade, is it not?'

"Your parents must've adored you so," Wednesday comments. She can certainly relate to that as she internally rolls her eyes at the thought of her own parents. 

You finish applying the cream, and Wednesday has had enough of the repetitive one-sided conversation in her head. It was going to drive her crazy—and not the respectable kind. 

But just as Wednesday opens her mouth to get it over with, her words die on her tongue when you look at her.

It was the same smile as that night, the one that made Wednesday's throat burn with utter defeat.

You must miss them. 

"Yes, I suppose they did."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and the incessant noise of Enid's snoring is somehow amplifying her thoughts.

This. Is. Inconceivable. 

The thing with Wednesday is that she had an obsessive personality. That's why solving mysteries is such a good pastime for her. 

The only problem is when the mystery hasn't been solved, and she is left alone with the agonizing cliffhanger. 

What if the words hadn't died on her tongue? 

What if she had said them anyway, despite your smile that seemed to make Wednesday miserable. 

But the truth of the matter is that she didn't, and now, she is stuck in bed coming up with new hypothetical conversations that revolve around one matter.

'Thing is indisposed.'

'I'm offering my company and assistance. Thing may stay as an additional conversationalist.'

'Surely, you must have more to say to me daily than greeting me.'

'Thing has questionable scalpel skills; therefore, I believe he's been applying your medication inaccurately. I can't have your wings—your life source—healing poorly on my hands.'

This is all Enid's fault, Wednesday determines. She turns her head to watch her peacefully, blissfully ignorant sleeping roommate. 

Maybe she should come through with the threat of smothering Enid with a pillow. But in the end, Wednesday turns her head back to the ceiling. 

It’s then that Thing opens the door and scuttles across the room in haste. She sits up as he climbs up onto her bed and pulls at her blanket.

"What is it, Thing?" Wednesday frowns.

Thing begins signing and tapping.

"Speak clearly, Thing. You're skipping words."

Thing taps frustratedly but slows down.

"Someone…slapped…back today?" Wednesday raises her brow but then frowns deeper. "It opened a wound up...and you can't fix it yourself? Need help...now?"

Thing taps multiple times to signify that is correct. Immediately, Wednesday gets out of bed and grabs her sweater. 

"Where is she? Her room or her studio?" Wednesday asks as she shoves on her shoes, and Thing climbs onto her shoulder.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wednesday arrives at your studio, following the same sequence she did weeks ago, she finds you fallen on the ground, your wings just barely over your shoulder as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

Blood drips down and soaks your feathers, somehow making obsidian look even darker. 

Wednesday walks up quickly and crouches beside you, and you barely notice her until she speaks. "Who did this to you? I want their name." She seethes.

"It was...an accident," you raggedly breathe. "She didn't know. Meant to be a friendly goodnight clap on the back."

But that doesn’t soothe Wednesday at all. Not when the back of your dress shirt is dredged in so much blood that there isn’t even a spot of white left, and your right wing twitching in obvious pain.

"What can I do?" Wednesday demands, but there was a softness to it that is almost desperation. 

You swallow. "I—I need you to move my wing over my shoulder more—until I can reach the cut to seal it." You screw your eyea shut. "I can't move it on my own."

Wednesday nods. She carefully reaches out to touch your wing.

It is velvety.

Wednesday imagines it would've been more magnificent to the touch had your feathers not been weighed down and saturated by blood. 

As Wednesday begins to spread your wing up and over, your breath hitches sharply.

Wednesday stops.

"Don't stop," you grit your teeth, taking in ragged breaths. "It hurts the longer you drag it out. Just—be gentle."

Gentle is not often used to describe Wednesday. She’s sharp and jagged, like broken glass. That's probably why she still plans to discover who did this to you and slowly butcher them—accident or not—as she carefully keeps moving your wing.

When it’s finally close enough for you to reach, Wednesday watches you use healing magic for the second time that day. You slump onto the grass, exhausted. 

Thing grabs Wednesday's attention to the pile of towels neatly folded in a tree's hollow trunk. She finds a set of spare clothing and grabs those along with the towels. 

"Is the pond water sterile?"

You nod with your eyes shut.

Wednesday places the shirt next to you and then turns to the pond, and sticks her hand in to find it was lukewarm before she soaks one of the towels.

“Change into this clean shirt for now,” Wednesday orders you but her tone lacks the usual bite. She wrings the towel and passes it to Thing. “Help her wipe the blood on her back. Turn around as she changes,” Wednesday warns Thing.

Wednesday turns away and keeps her focus on the pond, soaking the next towel. Thing taps her leg when they’re done. You look extra tired from having to change shirts but it was better than letting your bloody shirt make you sticky and then crust over before you could shower. You seem to realize it yourself as you make an effort to keep your dirty wings from soaking your shirt again.

When she returns to you, Wednesday cleans the blood out of your feathers gently but thoroughly. When she uses her fingers to brush aside some of the feathers, your wings trill. 

"Tickles," you mumble. 

Wednesday doesn’t comment as she continues until the blood is washed out and properly dried. Thing hands her the ointment you use and begins to apply the salve with precision. 

It’s quiet.

Peaceful.

Wednesday feels the tension in her shoulders leave now that you are fine and she is here. 

All those hypothetical thoughts and conversations flew right out of her head.

"I will apply this for you from now on."

You open one eye to peek at Wednesday, and she stares back at you as if to challenge her. You close your eye again and nod.

"Thanks for your services, Thing," you mumble tiredly. "Your severance package will be a bottle of dew drops."

PART FOUR

[hughjidiot]

Do I dare beat the dead horse some more regarding Amphibia season 3? Yeah, I think I will.

I still occasionally go on the subreddit where I occasionally voice my opinion of Marcy being in a coma and possessed for most of season 3 was the worst part of the show. The most common rebuttal I get is along the lines of "there would have been no drama because the girls would have fixed things between them."

I always hated that line of thinking because it really trivializes the complexities of the Calamity Trio's relationships, and today I came up with the perfect rubuttal for it: the drama could have been between Sasha and Marcy with Anne trying to mediate.

We saw a glimpse of this in The Beginning of The End, where Anne and Sasha *finally* talk about Marcy. Sasha says while she understood that Marcy panicked, she's still kinda ticked that Marcy got them all stranded in Amphibia in the first place. This is effectively resolved in a few minutes by a speech from Anne about how she's upset with Marcy too, but you can work through your issues with someone if your friendship with them is worth it, and that's pretty much the end of any potential Sasha/Marcy drama.

Imagine a season 3 where Marcy gets rescued by the girls before being possessed, but Sasha is still upset with Marcy for getting them stuck in Amphibia and Marcy is full of self-loathing and doesn't think she deserves forgiveness. So it falls to Anne, using all of her emotional growth and character development from throughout the series to bridge the gap between her friends and help all three of them fully fix their friendship, because their friendship is worth it.

[blueskittlesart]

what do you think his thoughts were at that moment?

this is an insane question and i am going rabid trying to answer it. for context this is about my. link dead on the fucking floor compilation. i. e. "what do you think went through link's mind as he all but DIED in precalamity botw."

i've thought about this before because. well obviously i have. look at how many times i've drawn it. i think context matters more than anything when examining that moment, because it's essentially the culmination of link's entire life up to that point in the worst way possible. you have a kid who has been raised to either win or die. those are his only two options. he's known this for basically as long as he can remember. either he defeats the calamity like he's supposed to and lives the rest of his life as an untouchable gold standard of soldier, as proof that all that pressure and pain he suffered worked, or he dies and dooms everyone he has ever loved to suffer horribly for the rest of their likely very short lives. And i do think he thought about this extensively, because how could you NOT, and i think that he probably believed that death was the most likely outcome. He was raised by a soldier, around soldiers, to be a soldier. soldiers are practical. soldiers strategize for the most likely scenario. they're not pessimistic, but they know how to look at a situation objectively and make a judgement call. Looking at link's situation objectively, it would have been obvious that he couldn't win. he was one kid, a 16-year-old boy, with maybe some above-average swordsmanship skills, but too many variables were missing. he couldn't hear the sword's voice. zelda's power wouldn't manifest. Hylia, who should have been there guiding them through this prophecy that SHE had supposedly inflicted on them, was completely silent. the divine beasts may have given him some hope, initially, but it was clear below the optimistic facade that hyrule was toying with very dangerous forces they didn't truly understand. I think he very likely went into that confrontation with the calamity anticipating death.

what's most interesting to me about the scene of link's death isn't that he fell, but WHERE he fell. because he didn't die in the sanctum, at the scene of the calamity's birth, as one might have expected. he died in an empty field along the road to a fortress that might have been able to protect him. Link, the bearer of the triforce of courage, the boy raised to die a martyr at the hands of the calamity, who had all but accepted his fate before the monster even showed its face, chose to run for safety, what some might call the coward's approach, instead of dying where he stood at ganon's hand. and it seems almost out of character at first, when you think about the person he was when he first met zelda, the person who would do anything in his power to show no weakness, to take the pain and the stress without flinching or faltering. the boy who so completely embodied that idea of "courage." but i think that zelda was the piece that changed him. If it had just been him at that final confrontation, maybe he wouldn't have run. maybe he would have been content to take his final stand and accept the death he'd been promised. but zelda insisted on being there, too. "there must be something i can do to help." and while link was a soldier, more than willing to engage in self-sacrifice, he was also a knight, sworn to protect this girl, and so he couldn't in good conscience sacrifice HER, too. so he ran. he tried to live, at a moment when he should have expected to die. and i think that was infinitely more courageous of him. to go against everything you have ever known and expected is infinitely scarier than accepting the outcome you've always anticipated. Running for his life (and for zelda's) was running into the unknown. escaping death in that way was defying everything he'd built himself up to be, everything everyone expected of him. Who is link if not the hero who faced the calamity with courage? what would he have to be if he could not be what was expected of him? in that moment, he made the choice to step into the unprophesized timeline, into a world where his actions were no longer defined by some great all-seeing power. and that was the most courageous move he could have made in that moment. he must have been terrified.

so what was going through his mind as he made his last stand? Honestly, i think the only thing on his mind was zelda. I don't think he cared about himself, his physical condition, any of it. I think he made the choice to run because of zelda and so he made the choice to take his final stand where he did because of her, too. just before zelda's power manifests, we see him try to continue fighting even inches from death, so gravely injured that he's unsteady on his feet, using his sword to keep himself standing. i think he must have known that he was in no condition to fight anymore, but he expected death to come for him at one point or another. what mattered was that she might live as long as he kept going. that's why he ran in the first place. not for himself, but because zelda was there and zelda didn't deserve to die like this. Even once zelda's power manifests, link only gives up and allows himself to fall once a beat or two has past--once he's sure that there really is no more danger. that she'll be okay, that she can make it past the fort and into relative safety even if he lets go here. He collapses then, and only then, after running miles through fields and woods, already gravely wounded, because in that moment he sees that the danger has past. a soldier's work is only done when there is nothing left to fight. a knight's work is only done when his princess is truly safe.

maybe he was relieved that he'd managed to hold on as long as he had. that he'd been able to find her some form of safety, in one way or another. maybe he worried about what manner of things would come for her once he was gone. maybe he wondered why she wouldn't just leave him and run for the fort. i'm sure there was a flash of regret in the back of his mind, for the family and friends he'd leave behind, for the people he'd let down, for the calamity he wasn't able to defeat. but this was the outcome he'd expected, even if it had come in a slightly different form. Even if now there was a girl hovering above him begging him to open his eyes.

[syndxlla]

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between BOTW and TOTK

Chapter Five: My North Star

Read chapter four here

My masterlist

Song: August by Taylor Swift

Summary: Link and Zelda get a visitor from an old friend, and start to remember how to live for the hope of it all.

Warnings: brief and non graphic mentions of death and dead bodies, canon-typical violence and horror, PTSD (always for this fan fic)

Word Count: 3.3k words

Authors Note: finally some happy moments lol. Also this is unedited!! ALSO I KNOW I HAVE SO MANY UNANSWERED ASKS RN I PROMISE I AM NOT IGNORING YOU IM JUST BUSY AND LAZY kloveyoubye

It takes only three more days for Impa to arrive at their door, angrily pounding her staff on the wooden plank. It’s early, she beats the rooster, and Link is rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he stumbles to the door from his makeshift bed he’s made adjacent to the kitchen.

He’s shocked to see the old woman staring up at him, as far as he knows, she hasn’t left Kakariko village in decades.

“You completed the mission and your first instinct was NOT to come and tell me?” She asks, her wrinkled lips pressed firmly into a frown. Link looks up to see Cado, apologetic. His hair is down, shirt is off, and he’s barely wearing trousers. He yawns.

“Good morning, Master Impa.” He bows deeply to her and she just whacks his skull with her cane in the same manner she did the door. Link yelps and rubs the top of his head. “What was that for?” He asks.

“Where’s the princess?”

“She’s sleeping still, it’s barely sunrise.” Link rubs some more sleep from his lashes, his hand in a tight fist. “You know, most people say good morning when you see them first thing…”

Impa then lets herself into the house, pushing past him like the angry ball of spunk she is. “I’ll have tea.” She states, “And I’d like to see my friend.” Link and Cado look at each other, the Sheikah man staring at him apologetically.

Link nods, walking to the furnace and kneeling in front of it. He blows on the dying embers from the night before, placing a small log on them. Flames catch, and he’s setting the kettle over them, still full of water from yesterday. Cado closes the door and sits across from Impa at the table. Link eyes his bed roll in the corner of the room, kicking some blankets around in an attempt to make it look less disheveled, but the elderly woman just squints at the state of the house. If only she had seen it a week ago. Link was starting to feel proud of he and Zelda’s progress, wildflowers being placed in a vase on the table, and their plates polished and put away neatly for the first time. After Impa’s scrutinizing gaze, however, he was feeling all sorts of insecure again.

The air is stagnant.

“She's still sleeping…still.” Link clears his throat, his voice hushed. “She needs to rest because-“

“Link, two bodies were found just outside of the castle two days ago, the man who found them also reports seeing a Shadowy Figure, covered in what he suspects is malice.” Impa interrupts him.

“What?” He asks, startled.

“I didn’t want to lead with that, but it cannot be ignored.” She spoke in the same hushed tone. They didn’t want to wake the Princess, and they especially didn’t want to scare her.

“Treasure hunters? I mean it's still a war zone there, it wasn’t anything else… right? He was lying, surely. All the Malice disappeared…” Link asks, feeling the blood go from his face.

“The man was Me.” Cado frowns. He would never lie. “After we got your message from Purah, I traveled to the castle to confirm that the Calamity was destroyed. The bodies were hylian, two young people. A boy and a girl… I thought it was..”

Cado’s voice became too loud, and Link hushed him.

“We want to think it was leftover spells, but we don’t know. We don’t know who else to ask to investigate.” Impa says.

“Now that Hyrule is safe, it's time we start reestablishing civility, democracy.” Cado steps in.

“It’s been eleven days since I defeated him.” Link crosses his arms, “I’m still not sleeping through the nights, Zelda doesn’t have her full strength back yet. You promised me I would get to rest when it was all over.” He looks at the Sheikah Chief.

“Don’t lie to me, Link.” Impa shakes her head, “I know you can’t stay in one place for too long. No matter how hard you try.” She states. She wasn’t wrong, but recently Link has started to feel different.

The kettle starts to whistle. Link swallows his frustration and takes it off the heat, preparing three cups of green bell tea. Everyone feels discomfort. “Did the figure do anything?” Link asks as he pours the hot water into the cups, his back turned to the Sheikah.

“It just stared at me, it was tall, hunched over.” Cado describes, one could easily hear the fear in his voice. “We stared at each other, I couldn’t tell if it was from this world or not.”

“Tall like a Zora or tall like a Gerudo?” Link asks, still turned away.

“Gerudo.” Cado struggled to say it. “I drew my sword, and as soon as I did, it turned away from me and walked into the mist to the south. I never saw it again.”

Link swallows and then turns around finally, carrying the cups to the table. “And the bodies?”

“Cause of death was unknown, I checked for a pulse multiple times but they were both long gone. They were dressed in traveler's garb. Their dress seemed to be from the north.”

“If they have families they need to know.” Link sits, holding the mug of tea in his hands.

“You’re the only one who could inform them about such a thing.” Impa says. “Tabantha is a long way, but you could be there and back in an hour if you warp. We’ll stay here until you-“

“The sheikah slate is utterly destroyed.” Link admits. “I left it with Purah but she essentially told me it's beyond repair.”

“You’d have to go on foot like the rest of us.” Cado smirks.

“Why would I?” Link asks, perhaps too forcefully. “I did my quest.”

Impa stares at him, silent for a moment, “You don’t really feel that way.” She shakes her head, “And if you do, then you are not the same man who woke up three years ago.”

“I’m not!” Link almost shouts, and they all bite their tongues, listening for any sound from upstairs. “Impa… you know I care. You know I want to go find whatever that figure was, but I am tired.” His voice cracks. “I can’t just sleep this one off.” He can’t look at her, if he does, he’ll break. “This is much deeper than exhaustion. It’s… it’s traumatic.

I still see him. His eyes, the way His heat radiated and burned my skin, the sound of His laughter. He Haunts me at night, I swear He finds ways into my dreams and taunts me there. Like it was all just a game to Him. Because it was. It always was. He’ll do it again a hundred times, and we can’t ever stop Him. There will be countless more Links who lose their hearing and can’t sleep and won't even look themselves in a mirror because as long as the triforce exists, He will mock us all with His deviance.”

Link stares into his tea.

“Impa…” A quiet voice says from the stairs, and all three of them are turning to see her. Long, blonde hair draped over her shoulder, eyes sleepy and confused, hands at her sides.

She nearly trips down the stairs as she runs to the woman, wrapping her hands around her neck and crying. Impa immediately holds her back, laughing, taking an old, bony hand and stroking the top of her friend's head with it.

“Good Morning, my dear.”

Link and Cado share one more glance.

The day is spent with hugs and laughter and Zelda looking into Impa’s eyes and crying every time she sees that they’re still the same eyes. Link cooks for them, and gets as quiet as he was at the start of this war. It’s all he can think about. Did it return for other Links? Did it return this early?

Zelda must have noticed his distance because while Impa is telling Zelda all about the man she married, the Princess is glancing at Link. His shoulders tense, his head down, his voice silent. She frowns, deciding to ask him about it later.

Cado was delighted to meet the woman, bowing deeply for her. He eventually got on a tangent about his children while they ate the omelets Link prepared, but Link stayed silent. He glances over at the Master Sword, leaning against the corner of the room, staring back at him.

He distracts himself the rest of the day with Epona, tending to her constantly while Zelda tells Impa every single detail about her time sealed away. The two prayed over each other a few times. The sun gets low in the sky, Link stays silent.

They come back inside, and before Impa and Cado enter from the outside to begin their next hour of catching up, Zelda places a gentle hand on Link’s shoulder. “Link,”

He turns to look at her, everything about him immediately softening as her green eyes stare at him.

“You’re upset?” She says, her voice soothing.

“No I’m not.” He denies. She raises an eyebrow.

“I know you.” Link becomes acutely aware of her thumb that starts rubbing circles into his muscle and he has to remind himself how to stand. ”Talk to me.”

He knows he can’t tell her about this, not yet. “Later?” He asks. She smiles and nods.

“I’m here for you.”

Link begins dinner, and Zelda washes up, leaving the three alone for the first time since early morning.

Impa stares, Cado uncomfortably clears his throat. Link looks at them, frowning, knowing what they want.

He sighs deeply.

“I will return to the castle. Zelda and I briefly discussed returning the Champion’s weapons to their people, and can do it then.” He finally says. “Tell every leader to warn their people to avoid the castle at all costs.”

“Good.” Impa nods.

“But-“ Link holds his hand up, “I’m not going until both she and I are ready.” He says.

“What do you mean by ready?” That old woman was always so pushy.

“When Zel and I both feel ready to return to those places without it absolutely crushing our spirits, we will go. Together.”

“Hylia knows when that will be.” Cado scoffs.

“Exactly.” Link says. “Unless more deaths are reported or this shadow is seen again, it can wait. Everyone has been avoiding the castle for a century, what’s a little while longer?” Link states, silently proud of himself for sticking up for himself and not just being the obedient soldier he was trained to be. “Besides, no one should be there anyways, it’s not safe.”

“You’re in love with the Princess.” Impa states with a chuckle and Link sputters, the wind knocking out of him.

“What? Why would you say that?” He asks.

“I saw you two. The way you look at her.” Impa smirks. Link feels his ears heat up, Cado stifles a laugh.

“You are so rude.” Link replies.

“I think you two need each other.” Impa shrugs, “But do not let any worldly affection keep you in the way of what really matters here: Hyrule and its people.”

Impa always knew exactly how to remind Link that he is just a soldier.

“We will leave before we eat. At this rate we will not return home until late into the night.” Impa states, standing back up.

They say their goodbyes. Zelda promises to visit, Impa gives her a kiss on the forehead, Cado bows again. And just as the sun begins to set, the pair is headed through the bridge.

Both Link and Zelda stand in the doorway as they watch them leave. Zelda starts to sniffle, wiping a tear.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Link says in a comforting tone when he sees her cry, turning to face her. “It’s okay, we’re gonna see her again real soon.” He reassures. Zelda sighs.

“She got so old, without me.” She tries to swallow her sob but fails. She presses her tear-stained face into the crook of Link’s neck, and he just holds her for as long she needs. Zelda is the one to pull away after a moment of comfort. “I’m sorry… I know there's something troubling you, too. I shouldn’t be so selfish.” Zelda sighs.

Link swallows, “It’s nothing. Not for tonight.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive.” Link nods. “Can I show you something?” He asks, and Zelda is nodding as he takes her hand and leads her up stairs. He pushes open a hatch on the ceiling in the corner, and a rickety ladder slides down. Some dust and cobwebs fly down, but when the air clears, Link is climbing up onto the roof of their house. He helps Zelda up next, and she’s looking up at the night sky with bright eyes. It’s still not totally dark yet, but the first few stars are starting to shine.

The roof is slightly slanted, but not enough to cause either of them concern. They both comfortably find a position on the tiles, facing south, noses pointed at the heavens. There’s about a foot of space between them, and Link wants to scoot closer into her, but chooses not to. He closes the hatch from the outside, so the warm light of the house doesn’t pollute their view.

“I like to come up here to clear my head.” He says. “It doesn’t hold a candle to the night sky in Hebra or out in the desert, but it's still pretty spectacular.”

Zelda hums, “You’ll have to take me someday.” She stays looking at the sky but Link looks at her. Her profile is beautiful, hair long and cascading, ears pointed and blushed. Surely she knew he was staring, but neither of them did anything to stop.

“One day.” He nods before looking away and laying on his back. He rests his arms behind his head, crossing an ankle over his bended knee. “That one is called Haru.” He points to an especially bright star, “It’s part of the constellation Nabooru.” He then traces the warrior constellation with his finger.

“I remember, yes.” Zelda scoots into him, and he tries to stifle his smile. She doesn’t lay next to him, but now they’re a mere inches apart.

“And this is the North Star.” Link cranes his neck back to see it. “It moves though, did you know that? True north changes over time, so that one was the North Star when we were born, but over time the celestial bodies shifted and now it's that one. They didn’t even know that until I came back, because I was following the original one and ended up in Lanayru instead of Eldin. I talked with Purah and Robbie and they agreed, isn’t that fascinating?” He asks with a smile.

Zelda smiles so wide she thinks her cheeks will burst. “I never heard you speak like that before. With so much passion and eloquence.”

Link looks at her and just chuckles, “Now everyone follows the new star, but it didn’t have a name yet….”

“We should name it!” She gasps.

“Oh…I already did.” Link frowns, “I named it after I got my first memory back.” He shrugs. “I”m sorry. But there are plenty of stars without names anymore. A lot of the scientific research got destroyed with the…” He stops himself, “Well you know why. No one these days even knows the constellations anymore. I’m the only one.”

“What did you name it?” Zelda smiles.

Link looks at her again, “Zelda.”

She just about passes out from flattery, smiling down at her knees which are bent into her chest, blushing a little. “That’s very nice.”

“It was my true north.” He says. “I’d have been lost without it.”

It was fully dark now, and the sky lit up with the twinkling lights, the moon was a small sliver of a crescent and hung low in the sky near the sea.

“When did you remember the constellations?” She asked.

“They come to me slowly. It was required for all knights to know them, as I’m sure you remember.” Link described, looking to the heavens again. “I still can’t think of half of them.”

“Well isn’t that one Navi?” She points to another star.

“No, that one is Navi.” Link scoots up to her level, closing the gap further between them, and takes his hand to move her arm to the right star, his calloused and scarred flesh rough against her soft skin. “That one is the top of the constellation Hylia-“

“-Hylia”

They say it together. Perfectly in tune.

Their faces turn towards one another, locking eyes. The air freezes, time itself seems to hold.

Their hearts simultaneously skip a beat, and a soft blow of warm wind passes by, brushing through their hair.

Link makes the mistake of looking at her lips and for a split second he swears she leans in, but before anything goes any further, she’s moving away and laying down next to him.

He supposes this is alright, too.

“I wonder what she thinks of all this.” Link says.

Zelda is quiet ....“I sometimes wonder if the God’s regret making man.”

“What do you mean?” Link asks, looking at her.

“Well… man is what caused the curse of the loop anyways. If it weren’t for us, Hyrule wouldn’t have to be rebuilt every ten thousand years.” She frowns. “Maybe they wish they had left their creation to rest without our feeble beings.”

“I don’t think that.” Link shakes his head. “I think they put us here because we are flawed, not in spite of it.

I think our mistakes, our sins, our curses are what makes us special. Life would be futile if we were perfect. There would be no motivation. No growth. No passion.

You cannot have good without evil, or light without dark, or joy without pain.

That’s what’s so beautiful about life. I think the God’s know that. I think they love us because of it. That is a luxury they don’t have. I see it as a gift. To live for the hope of it all.”

Link rambles, and Zelda is stunned for a moment. She turns her head to look at him, this time he’s the one with wonder-filled eyes staring up, ignoring the gaze of the other.

“I really think you should wield the triforce of wisdom.” Zelda teases.

Link looks at her, their noses almost touching. “Oh no, I’m only profound when I’m around you.” He shakes his head, giggling. “You should see me try to talk my way through Gerudo town, there's nothing wise about it.” His tone is playful, and they both laugh over it. “I accidentally told a woman she looked pregnant instead of ordering a drink at the bar.” Link explains and then says the two phrases in Gerudo, Zelda can admit they have very similar pronunciations and the both of them are full-belly laughing at the situation. Zelda asks how he managed to get out of that situation, and Link had to describe further that he was in disguise, which made everything harder to get through. Zelda couldn’t get the image of Link in a woman’s clothing out of her mind, and Link only sets her off further when he finishes the story with him getting slapped by an elderly Gerudo Woman. It isn’t much longer until she has tears welling down her face, but this time they are finally tears of laughter and joy.

When they both finally pull themselves together, Zelda smiles at him, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes. “Thank you.” She sighs, her stomach aching from laughter.

Zelda then takes a risk, and snakes her hand in between them before wrapping it around Link’s. They don’t lock fingers, and it isn’t even necessarily classified as a romantic gesture, but she just squeezes his hand, thankful for cheering her up, thankful for reminding her that there is still hope.

There is hope in balance.

She tries to pull it away, not wanting to overstep, but Link is holding her hand tighter, keeping it in his grip. Zelda happily obliges, and they keep their hands clasped at their sides the whole night.

—

Chapter Six

[bwat5-blog]

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

WHY THIS SHOW MATTERS FOR ME

"Why do we tell Stories? To try and make sense of a world that can be terrifying and enormous.. I don't know that your story will be long be known.. but it did happen- and it did matter"- Brennan Lee Mulligan, Critical Role, EXU Calamity

Arcane has become a true phenomenon. With record breaking viewership transcending various countries, age groups, sexual orientation, and more. You need look no further for an example than the fact that Heimerdinger's song was recorded more than 25 times by the various voice actors representing our favorite absent minded professor, in different countries and languages around the world. So I suppose the question then, is why?

This is hardly a simple question. Like any media, people are enjoying it for all kinds of reasons. There are die-hard LOL players who love seeing these characters and worlds brought to life. There are people reveling in the enormous diversity of representation in the characters. There are those who love the story of the sisters, Caitlyn and Vi's love story, or the sinister mystery that unfolds as the Arcane itself wakes up in this world. The list of reasons people love this show is endless and rightfully so. So I am writing to explain mine because, primarily, the opportunity to share my thoughts/feelings on this incredible story and discuss, and learn and interact with you all has been a true pleasure as we celebrate the achievement this tale has been. As always, for anyone bored enough to read these I appreciate you.

For me, the best stories have and always will make you look deeper into the humanity of our own world through the lens of the story itself. Don't get me wrong, Arcane is FULL of epic spectacle. incredible fights, beautiful animation and music, and more. It's a tale of magic unleashed and warlords and mad scientists. And please do NOT misunderstand me, I LOVE all of those things. It's just that for me, that's not why this story will always live on long after its over.

Vi is a bad-ass brawler who from a young age is literally holding her own with armed adult thugs and able to throw hands wearing Vander's gauntlets. She is tough and brave and an absolute hardass..She is also a young woman who never knew romantic affection before being thrown into a dark, terrifying prison for seven years.. Who is terrified of losing the last family she has left to the point that she cannot put herself first ..and who just needs her dad

Silco is a brutal crime lord who experiments on the vulnerable of the under city and does not hesitate to kill anyone who crosses him. He takes a scared little girl who is in so much pain and twists her up, and weaponizes her grief to the point that she becomes someone new.. someone darker.. He is also a broken, lonely, maimed man who was almost killed by someone he loved as a brother and is desperately trying to hold on to the young woman he loves as a daughter

Caitlyn is a sheltered but brilliant and wealthy woman who is "an excellent shot" ,and becomes a leader of soldiers and someone willing to sacrifice herself in the name of the greater good.. She is also a young woman who has to learn to see herself in the woman she hates/who killed her mother, learning to set aside that hatred, and rage, and grief in order to move on and keep living, and find peace.

I could go on about other characters or expound on the ones I just mentioned, and have in fact done so in other posts. But you get the idea. These characters (and the others) are so rich, dark, nuanced and beautiful. And when you strip away the magic, and the mutated beasts, and the colorful smoke and music what is left? The struggle of the oppressed against their oppressors, a young woman overcoming her inner demons to become a hero to her people, a warrior who had her childhood stolen from her learning that she deserves happiness and peace. I could go on. There are so many of these examples and they all make up the tapestry that is this show.

This is why I continue to champion understanding and accurate recognition of this show. Because it deserves it. Because the stories of these characters and their fight against the darkness of the world in ways grand and small, are the stories that have illuminated our path forward as people for all of time. In today's age of instant-gratification and flash and noise it's easy to forget the impact of things like this on who we are.. But to those of us who believe in the importance of such stories, it always has mattered. And it always will.

“It's like the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad has happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. I know now folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something. That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.”

― Samwise Gamgee

[xdarkestdesirex]

Calamity - Hide x f.Reader

Volume One

Calamity (n.) a great misfortune or disaster

You think you're just like every other 18-year-old girl: just starting college, living alone, and working at a cute cafe, except you aren't because you're a ghoul. Trying your best to blend into a world that isn't your own, and then you meet him. Hide. He's unlike anyone you've ever met, and you slowly fall for him. But will it ever work between the two of you? He's human, and you're not.

This is a Hide x female reader, and this fanfiction story will be based STRICTLY on the mangas, including the novels.

The plot of Tokyo Ghoul and the characters are not mine. They all belong to Sui Ishida.

I don't allow anyone to copy my story, publish it on other platforms, or alter it as your own.

This writing contains highly sensitive topics like violence, gore, mental illness, talk of suicide, death, smut, and other mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.

word count 10877

“Humans are thought to be at the top of the food chain… But some beings hunt them as food. These monsters feed on the dead flesh of humans. They are called…

Ghouls.” 

-Tokyo Ghoul Volume 1 #001 Tragedy by Sui Ishida

——————————

The sound of the TV lofted through the brightly lit cafe. A news channel was showing an interview with a man named Hisashi Ogura, a ghoul researcher, explaining what ghouls are and how they act. I stood behind the coffee bar, dressed in my work uniform, which consisted of a cream blouse with a gray vest layered on top and a brown tie wrapped neatly under the collar and tucked below the vest. A brown skirt with two pleats in the front that hit my mid-thighs, shear tights covered my legs, and a pair of platform leather loafers adorned my feet. I blocked out the sound of the male voice coming from the screen on the wall and stared at two customers sitting at a table across from me. I noticed the one with dark black hair from his frequent visits to the cafe, but the friend across from him was someone I barely saw. He had short, dirty blonde hair with dark roots and gleamed as a smile crossed his face. The other boy’s cheeks turned dark pink, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the blonde was teasing his friend about when suddenly, the vibrant boy shot out of his seat and yelled out to Touka. 

“Hey! Can you take our order?!” His giant smile grew, and he looked down at his friend and gave him a little shove. 

“Sorry, (Y/n), can you take this?” The plum-haired girl turned towards me and walked away from the beaming boy. I sweat-dropped at the explicit rejection of my co-worker to deal with these boys and then made eye contact with the blonde. He sent me a small smile and a faint blush crept up on my cheeks. From the few other times he made a brief appearance in the cafe, I couldn’t help but be drawn to his bubbly, adorable appearance. I walked out from behind the counter, gripping my notepad, and sent them the best customer service smile I could muster. 

“I apologize for my co-worker,” I bowed, “What can I get for you?” 

“I’ll have a cappuccino!” The bright boy turned to his friend, “What about you?” 

“Oh, uh, I’m okay, thank you.” The dark-haired boy shyly spoke. He was always the quiet type when he came in. 

“One cappuccino coming up!” I said, turning around to walk away, but someone grabbed my hand and stopped me. I looked to see who caught me, and it was the boy I admired from the coffee bar. 

“Can I ask a question?” He looked up at me with beautiful olive eyes and a silly smirk.

“Of course,” I replied. My heart was beating quickly in my chest.

“What is that girl’s name?” He pointed over towards Touka. My face dropped, and I felt a strange knot in my throat. I don’t know this guy, but it’s still a hit to your ego when someone you’ve been silently crushing on asks about another girl. “I think she might be the girl my friend has a crush on.” He gestured to the boy next to him. Oh, that makes sense. I guess I worried for nothing. 

“Her name is Touka.” I directed the answer to the dark-haired boy, “She’s lovely once you get to know her!” Touka would kill me if she heard me talking about her to a boy. 

“O-oh, no, s-sorry!” The poor boy looked like he would burst from embarrassment, “My friend is mistaken! She’s not the girl I have a crush on! Though she is cute.” He trailed off and said the last part quietly, but I could still pick it up. Heh, he thinks she’s cute. I’m so going to tease her about this. 

“WHAT?” The blonde looked taken aback, “I swear I was spot on with my guess.” He turned back to you, “Sorry about that!” 

“It’s okay,” I said, chuckling. Finally, I broke free from the boys and returned behind the bar. 

I grabbed a bag of espresso roast coffee beans and poured a small amount into our espresso grinder. It sputtered to life and poured the coffee grounds into the portafilter. Once it was filled, I pressed the coffee grounds down, compacting them into the portafilter, making sure not to pact them down too much. I placed the portafilter onto the espresso machine, put one of our mugs below it, and started it up. Slowly, the deep brown drops of coffee began to fill the cup, and the smell of brewing beans wafted through my nose. I inhaled the bitter scent and felt my body relax instantly. Coffee is the only thing I can relate to with humans, and the smell of it has always calmed my nerves. While the espresso was pouring into the mug, I grabbed a jug of whole milk from the fridge, poured it into a cup, and then placed it under the steam wand. Once I steamed the milk, I poured it over the espresso, topped it with foam, and drizzled a heart on top with caramel. 

I brought the cup over to the blonde boy and sat the cup in front of him. Once he looked down at the mug, his hands shot up to his face, and he cooed, “Awww, you put a heart on it!” Instantly, my face turned a bright red, and I cursed myself for putting a heart. I was too proud of my coffee art to think about the embarrassment I would feel after bringing it over to him. He turned towards me, “What’s your name!” 

“Oh, uh, I-I’m (L/n) (Y/n),” I bowed, “Nice to meet you.” I mentally facepalmed myself at being so proper. 

“I’m Hideyoshi Nagachika, but you can call me Hide!” He reached out and grabbed my hands. “Do you have a boyfriend?!” WHAT? Did he just ask me that? I think I’m going to faint.

“N-n-n-no,” I stuttered out. I could feel the palms of my hands getting sweaty, and I only hoped he wouldn’t feel it, either. My whole body was on fire, and I could feel the eyes of other customers looking at us. Did he have to be so loud while being this direct? 

“Could I possibly-” 

“(Y/n)!” Touka called me, interrupting the blonde boy, “What are you doing?”

“A-ah! I have to get back to work!” I pulled my hands away from the blonde, ran over to Touka, and lowered my head in shame for getting distracted while working. Touka may be younger than me, but she can be scary. As I got back to work, I could hear the dark-haired male scold his friend for being obnoxious, and the words that fell out of the vibrant boy’s lips shocked me, “She’s cute.” 

Touka stared at me angrily when the door opened, looking like she was also about to scold me. I took this moment to greet the customer and saw Rize walking through the doors. It made me uneasy whenever she came in, but I knew I could do nothing about it. She was a binge eater, and just thinking about the things she does to people makes me sick. But I still greeted her the way I do with every customer. 

A few minutes passed, and I was back to standing behind the counter, cleaning up things lying around. I decided it wouldn’t be wise to go back to staring at the dirty blonde boy after our encounter, and I did my best to distract myself. The sound of a chair squeaking made my eyes snap, and I saw the bubbly boy leave his chair. “Good luck, dreamer boy!” He waved to his friend, sporting a bright smile, then turned slightly to look at me and yelled, “See you later, (Y/n)!” And then he walked out the door.

I patted my hot cheeks, trying to calm them down, and Touka stared at me for a second before rolling her eyes. “Seriously?” She leaned closer and whispered, “He’s a human.” Then, she walked away from me. Yes, he’s a human, and I’m a ghoul. There’s no way we could ever be together, but a crush has never hurt anyone. 

——————————

These past few days, I couldn’t help but worry about Hide’s dark-haired friend, whose name I found out is Kaneki. Once the blonde boy left the cafe, I saw Kaneki interact with Rize and overheard their plan to go out on a date. It was coming up tomorrow, and I struggled to find a way to warn the poor boy. Just from looking at him, I could tell he was pretty weak, and he wouldn’t stand a chance against Rize. If he were at least a bit strong, maybe he would have the opportunity to defend himself, but even then, he probably would still fail. She’s a strong ghoul, and nothing gets in her way of feeding. There wasn’t anything I could do about it either unless I wanted to expose myself or Anteiku, and I would never do that. 

My best course of action would be to follow them. I knew where they were meeting and what time, so I could just lurk in the shadows and ensure Rize didn’t do anything to Kaneki. It was settled then. Tomorrow, I will watch them. 

*

Morning came, and I got ready for my day of spying. I wore a pair of black jeans and a band T-shirt with a pair of black Converse. I threw my (h/c) hair into a bun and tossed a black zip-up hoodie and a pair of sunglasses into my bag. Was I being too obvious? Most likely, but oh well. I didn’t want to stand out; I could blend into the darkness if they hung out at night. Before leaving my room, I grabbed the book on my coffee table and shoved it into my bag. I needed something to hide behind, just in case. 

I arrived at the restaurant they were meeting at a bit after the time they stated to make sure I wouldn’t be seen by the two. When I entered, I got the waiter to seat me in a corner behind Rize’s back so she couldn’t see me. As I watched them talk, they seemed to be having a good time, and I could see the faint dusting of blush on the boy’s cheeks occasionally. Rize was a master disguiser when it came to being a ghoul; she knew how to blend in with humans, and it surprised me that she didn’t touch the food on her plate once. I’ve seen her pretend to eat before, so was she avoiding it right now because she didn’t want to spoil her appetite for later? I still wasn’t sure what I would do if she attacked him. I’m too weak to fight against a ghoul of her strength, and I couldn’t risk him knowing about me either. Maybe I could run into them? Tell her we had an important topic to discuss with her right away. 

After following them around for the day, everything seemed okay. Maybe she wouldn’t hurt him today, and I can warn Mr. Yoshimura about her plans. It was nighttime, and the only things lighting the streets were a few lamp posts. I threw my hoodie on not too long ago and slowly watched them as they came to a stop. It was time to part ways, but Rize made up some excuse of being scared to get Kaneki to walk her home. Shit. She’s going to kill him. I was about to dart out of my hiding spot when I saw a group of girls walking in my direction. I noticed one of them as Touka and panicked, so I threw myself back into the hiding spot and watched as they slowly walked by. At this point, the couple I was stalking, for lack of better words, had disappeared. Once the high school girls were out of sight, I ran towards the alley I saw Rize and Kaneki walk down. Before I could even enter it, a loud bang rang through the area as steel beams came crashing to the ground. I fell backward and covered my face as the debris flung towards me.

This isn’t good. I quickly picked myself off the ground and ran towards the beams to see if the poor dark-haired boy was trapped in the destruction. It didn’t take long to see him poking out from under a beam, crushing him into the ground, and a puddle of blood surrounding him. Fear coursed through my veins, and I could feel the change in my demeanor. My eyes flashed red, and I suddenly felt a pang of hunger. I clutched my stomach and shook my head. Fuck. I did go past my feeding time with how busy I’ve been lately. I can’t let myself lose control now. Not after how hard I’ve worked towards controlling myself. Once I pulled myself together, I grabbed my phone and dialed the police. I couldn’t just leave him here to die.

——————————

After the incident with Kaneki and Rize, I stayed by to ensure the black-haired boy was still alive. I didn’t move him from his spot, scared that if I did, it would be the difference between him dying or not. When the police and ambulance arrived, I gave them my statement and asked to remain anonymous. I know doing that was risky, and I could’ve exposed myself by staying there. Thankfully, they didn’t prod me too much with questions but told me what hospital Kaneki was being transported to, which brought me to where I am now—standing in front of that hospital and questioning why I was even here. I wanted to check in on the poor boy and ensure he was doing okay, but I didn’t want to see him directly. 

I took a deep breath and walked through the hospital doors to the front desk. A lady sat behind the counter and looked up at me impatiently, “How can I help you?” Her voice was monotonous. You would think they’d hire bubbly people to work the front desk at a hospital. This place is already depressing, and people like this lady don’t help the atmosphere. 

“I just wanted to check the condition of one of the patients here,” I said.

“What’s their name?” Her hands were ready to type once I spoke.

“Ken Kaneki.” Her fingers started working her magic, but another voice spoke behind me before she could say anything.

“(Y/n)?” It sounded slightly familiar, but not enough for me to know who it was immediately. I turned around to see the bright, blonde-haired boy.

“H-Hide!” I should’ve expected him to come and check in on his friend.

“You’re here to check on Kaneki as well?” Looking at me puzzled, he scratched his head, “I didn’t know you guys were close.” 

“Are you also a friend of the boy?” The lady behind the counter interrupted our conversation. 

“Yes, I am.” The blonde boy's face settled into a straight line, a more serious look, away from the bright smile he usually wore when I saw him at the cafe.

“Then I’ll tell the both of you so I don’t have to repeat myself. Kaneki is in stable condition and doing well, but he’s asked for no visitors.” 

I glanced over at Hide, and his eyebrows scrunched down. He looked disappointed and sad. I’m sure he wanted to see with his own eyes that his friend was okay. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” I turned to face the boy beside me, “Can we talk?” He nodded his head.

He followed me out of the hospital, and we walked side by side in silence. I wasn’t sure where to start. I knew I couldn’t tell him that I stalked them cause I knew Rize was a ghoul, but I could at least explain that I just happened to be passing by when the steel beams fell. I’m sure he’s suspicious of me, and I wanted to clear my name. 

“I know of a cafe we can go to if you’d like. I’ll pay.” I spoke. 

“Is it Anteiku?” He lightly joked.

A small chuckle fell from my lips, and I shook my head, “No, there’s one right down the road that’s pretty good.”

“Alright, let’s go.” 

The blonde boy seemed deep in thought as we headed towards the cafe, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for his somber appearance. If I had stopped their date beforehand or pulled Rize away from Kaneki, then Hide’s friend wouldn’t be in the position he’s in, or if I had been strong enough to fight her. I gripped my fist tightly and cursed myself for being weak. Yes, I called the police, but I could’ve prevented him from ever getting hurt. 

We made it to the cafe and were seated at a small table facing the window. I ordered an iced americano (something I could drink) and some avocado toast. I couldn’t eat the toast, but I’m good at pretending to enjoy food. I watch many videos on YouTube of people going out to eat, and I like to stay on top of food trends for people my age. Hide ordered a cappuccino and a piece of cake. Once our food and drinks arrived, I picked up the toast with my hands, bit right into it, swallowed it whole, and pretended to chew. Then, I sipped my coffee to wash away any foul-tasting food I ingested. 

“So, why were you at the hospital to see Kaneki?” Hide questioned.

I sat down my food and dabbed my face with a napkin before responding, “I was there at the incident.” I decided to get straight into it.

“Wait, what?!” I guess what I said was the last thing he expected, given how his mouth hung open in shock.

“I don’t live too far from the area where it happened,” Which is the truth since I live at Anteiku and it wasn’t very far from the incident, “I was out for a late night walk cause I was feeling a bit stressed when suddenly these steel beams came crashing to the ground. I wasn’t close enough to be caught up under them, but the whole thing scared me. Then I remembered seeing two people walk towards where they had fallen, and I needed to make sure they were okay. So I started looking around. It wasn’t long before,” I paused for a second to take a deep breath. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to seeing people in the state Kaneki was in when I found him. I've seen worse, but the negative thoughts from earlier came crashing back. A pair of solid hands lightly gripped mine, and I looked up to see the vibrant boy looking at me worriedly. 

“It’s okay (Y/n), you don’t-” 

“No, I have to tell you,” I cut the boy off and squeezed his hand in mine, “I saw Kaneki lying there. I recognized him from Anteiku and h-he- there was a lot of blood. I was sure he was dead, but when I checked for a pulse, I felt something faint.  So I called the police immediately but didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t see the other person he was with, so I just sat there and stayed with him till help arrived.” 

Hide rubbed his hands over his face, “I-I’m so sorry you had to witness what you did,” He looked up at me with tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “But I’m so thankful you were there to be with him and call for help.” His voice broke, “My best friend could be dead right now if it weren’t for you, so thank you.” 

Having Hide thank me made all my emotions surface, and tears started rolling down my cheeks. I dropped my head into my hands to cover myself from the gaze of onlookers. Then I felt a pair of arms wrap around me and pull me into a hug. I nuzzled my face into the bright jacket of the dirty blonde boy, and he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. We both sat there crying while embracing each other. It felt good to have him be grateful to me, but I still felt guilty and don’t think that’ll ever go away. Hide offered to walk me home when we left the cafe, and I accepted it. We didn’t talk much during the walk, but the silence was comfortable. It was nice to have the company, at least. He tried to crack a few jokes to lighten the mood, and he succeeded with it. I couldn’t help but giggle whenever he said something funny. 

Once we arrived at Anteiku, Hide cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. “I thought I was taking you home.”

“This is home,” I smiled at the boy, “I live in an apartment above the cafe. That’s how I started working here!” 

“Oh wow! I didn’t realize people lived up there.”

“There are a few of us who live up there. Thankfully, there are only a few apartments, so I have fewer neighbors.” The blonde boy chuckled at my statement, “I guess this is where we part ways.” I whispered.

“I guess so,” Hide smiled slightly.

“Thank you for walking me back,” I said, walking up the steps to the door.

‘Wait!’ he yelled out. I stopped to face him once again. He rushed up the steps and got close to me. A fit of heat crept up my face from the sudden closeness. “Could I get your number?” 

“U-um, sure.” If my face hadn’t been red, it would be red now. I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my phone, and handed it to him. He gave me his, and we swapped numbers. 

“Thank you again, (Y/n), for looking after Kaneki.” He said one last time before leaving. I pressed my back against the wall and slid down once he was out of sight. I can’t believe that just happened. 

——————————

It had been another steady day at the cafe, and I didn’t have any classes today, so I worked an entire shift from opening till 4 pm. Like always, I stood at the counter, waiting for Touka to return from school so she could swap me out. These past few days have been emotional and tiring, not to mention how I had to come clean and tell Mr. Yoshimura everything that happened with Kaneki and Rize. We spent the past few days reviewing the event in detail and ensuring nothing leads back to Anteiku. I felt terrible for putting our group in danger by exposing myself as a witness to the police and other ghouls by being there when Rize got killed. We had concluded that what happened most likely wasn’t an accident since so many people were after her. Meaning we must be extra careful and lay low for a while. 

There have also been rumors floating around that the doctor who performed surgery on Kaneki used Rize’s organs as a transplant to save him. Mr. Yoshimura seemed concerned about this and asked us to watch for him. He feels like it could affect him in a way that we wouldn’t be able to comprehend. So I’ve been lost in thought over everything that’s happened, and my guilt has only grown. Mr. Yoshimura was kind and told me he was proud of me for saving the boy, and even though what I did was a considerable risk, I made the right choice. Even Yomo brought me coffee and an extra meal to spoil and make me feel better.

A small smile spreads on my face after I think of how Yomo cares for me. We’re not family by blood, but he took me under his wing when I was little. I was around 7, and he was only 23. Why did he look after me like I was his own at such a young age? I couldn’t understand, but he’s been like a father to me all these years. Being here at Anteiku has been a blessing; the people here are all my family. Without everyone’s help, there’s no way I would survive in this world. Many ghouls would struggle without the kindness of Anteiku and Mr. Yoshimura. 

  Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and an angry, disheveled Touka came storming through. Many customers glanced at her; some knew why she looked the way she did, while others looked at her with judging eyes. 

“Hey, Koma, can you watch the counter while I check in on Touka?” I asked the male on shift.

“Of course, (Y/n)!” He smiled at me.

I quickly wandered back and headed up the stairs to Touka’s room. Knowing she would tell me to go away, I didn’t even bother knocking, so I just barged straight into her room. She whipped around quickly, looking at me with her signature annoyed look.

“Ugh, how often do I tell you to knock.” She said.

“What happened?” I asked as I sat down in her chair by the desk in her room.

“Why do you think something happened?” She huffed back.

“Because I’ve known you for a while, Touka, and you don’t try to hide it when something pisses you off.”

“Fine, an asshole was trying to push himself onto me on my way here from school, and then another asshole showed up. He was a ghoul as well, so I killed the old fuck trying to grope me, and I offered some of him to the other guy cause he seemed hungry. Then I noticed only one of his eyes was red, and he looked a lot like the guy Rize took on a date. I tried to get him to eat, and he refused. He looked at me with disgust before running away.” 

I just sat there in shock over the fact that she told me all that so easily; I didn’t have to pry it out of her, and holy fuck… Kaneki is a ghoul now?!

“Touka, I’m so sorry some slimy bastard was pushing himself on you. I disagree with killing people, but he had it coming.” I paused momentarily, “As for the boy who looked like Rize’s date, you need to tell Mr. Yoshimura about him.”

“Why?” The plum-haired girl became defensive.

“He might need help.”

“He’ll be fine. If I had to figure out my way in this shitty world alone, he can too.” The young girl crossed her arms and glared at me.

“Touka, please just go talk to Mr. Yoshimura,” I begged the girl.

“I make no promises,” she said, walking towards her door and gesturing, “Now please leave so I can get dressed.”

I sighed and left the room, knowing there wasn’t much I could do. I’ll tell Mr. Yoshimura myself if Touka doesn’t talk to him by the night’s end. I returned to the cafe and let Koma know she was okay. Only a few minutes had passed before she made her way behind the counter, and I was finally free to go to my room. Walking down the hallway, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed a number I had yet to message. The phone rang a few times before a deep voice answered on the other end.

“Hey (Y/n)! This is a surprise.” His voice came through the speaker and whispered into my ear. Even talking on the phone made my cheeks heat up slightly.

“Hide, is this a bad time?” Before I asked the real question, I wanted to ensure he wasn’t busy.

“Nope! I just left class and am heading to a meeting for this school festival. We can talk while I walk!” 

“I just wanted to check in and see how Kaneki was doing. Have you seen him lately?” I’m unsure if Hide knows he’s out of the hospital yet, so I have to see what he knows about Kaneki. 

“Oh, yeah, he got discharged from the hospital a few days ago, and I took him out to eat as a celebration.” His voice didn’t sound as enthusiastic as before.

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear Kaneki is doing okay. How’s he doing… mentally?” I hesitated to say that last word. Dealing with trauma can be rough, but if he’s turned into a ghoul, then he must be going through something even worse.

“He did seem kind of out of it the whole time we were out, and he looked pretty pale. He couldn’t keep down any of the food he ate. I was worried about him, but he said he’s still healing.” So he couldn’t eat the food at the restaurant. I’ll have to tell Mr. Yoshimura this information and what Touka saw. 

“It might take a while for him to feel normal again,” if he can even feel like that after what happened to him. “Thank you for updating me, Hide. I appreciate it.”

Once Hide and I got off the phone, I wandered down the hall to Mr. Yoshimura’s office and knocked on the door. I waited for his okay before I entered and sat in front of his large oak desk. 

“What can I do for you (Y/n)?” He propped his hands on the desk and gave me his undivided attention.

“It’s about Kaneki. I told Touka to talk to you, but I don’t think it can wait.” He looked at me with deep, squinted eyes. “She saw him not too long ago and noticed one of his eyes was red. He looked hungry but refused the meat that Touka tried to give him.”

“So he’s part ghoul and refusing to eat.” The old man paused before continuing, “We need to contact him before the hunger consumes him.” 

I agreed with Mr. Yoshimura, and we sat together and discussed ways to approach the dark-haired boy without scaring him off. We wanted to help him with this new way of life and teach him what it means to be a ghoul—if he’d let us, and maybe he could help us understand humans better. I begrudgingly told him about my encounter with Hide at the hospital and how we swapped numbers. I hoped to keep this secret, fearing Mr. Yoshimura would forbid me from talking to the vibrant boy. He didn’t fully agree with me talking to the human, but he didn’t say I wasn’t allowed to. Which I was silently thankful for. 

We devised a plan for me to ask Hide for Kaneki’s number so I could personally check in with the shy boy. I would then message Kaneki, telling him I was the person who called the police during his incident and that I would like to meet up with him. From there, I would ask him to meet me at Anteiku and invite him upstairs, where I would lead him to Mr. Yoshimura’s office. We would then explain that we understand his situation and would like to offer him help. I wasn’t sure if this would work, but trying didn’t hurt. At least we would know that we reached out and tried even if he refused us. 

Together, Mr. Yoshimura and I made our way down to the cafe. We wanted to gather everyone and meet about our possible new friend. Since it was the end of the day, the cafe should be locked up, and all the customers are gone. The only people left should be the other workers like Touka and Koma, and soon, Yomo would be returning from his patrol of the area. When we reached the cafe, the only person we could see was Koma mopping the floors. He told us Touka was outside taking out the trash. As we got close to the door, we could hear Touka’s loud and clear voice. She was yelling at someone, and she sounded agitated. The last thing I heard before Mr. Yoshimura opened the door was Touka saying, “You can die for all I care.”

Once the door was flung open, I saw the dark-haired boy kneeling on the ground. He had a green hoodie on with the hood pulled over his head. Tears were streaming down his face, and his left eye was red. He looked terrified, and my heart clenched as I stared at the poor boy. I couldn’t even imagine what he was going through. His world has turned upside down, and I could have prevented it. 

“Touka,” Mr. Yoshimura’s voice cut through the tension. Kaneki looked up at the older man, and his eyes fell on me in the background. Without realizing it, I shrunk behind Mr. Yoshimura, trying to hide from the boy’s gaze. “It must have been rough,” The old man shifted his body and opened the door wider to invite Kaneki inside. As he walked past me, I kept my gaze on the floor. I didn’t realize how shameful I would feel for him to find out I was a ghoul. If he knew about my involvement when the beams fell on him from Hide, then I wouldn’t be surprised if he blamed me for what happened to him as well. 

Touka argued with Mr. Yoshimura about letting the poor boy into Anteiku, but the older man shut her up by saying ghouls help each other. The plum-haired girl and I followed quietly behind the two men as Mr. Yoshimura led us to the secret refrigerator where we kept human meat for ghouls who couldn’t hunt independently. The grey-haired man grabbed a wrapped pack of fresh meat and handed it to the troubled boy. Kaneki hesitantly grabbed the package and stared at the raw human meat in his hands. His dilemma of what he would do with it was evident in his eyes, and I could relate to his feelings. There was a point in my life where I refused to kill another human so that I could survive. It drove me insane to the point where the hunger devoured me. I no longer knew who I was, and my sense of humanity disappeared. 

I went on a binging spree, and the amount of blood I spilled that day was enough to last a lifetime. Yomo found me in hysterics and had to knock me out so I could calm down. When I awoke, I was in Mr. Yoshimura’s office, and he offered to help me. He told me that I would never have to worry about hurting another person. I was initially hesitant when they started to give me my meals, and it took a lot for me to finally give in and eat again. Ever since that moment, I haven’t killed another human. 

“Please come back when you need more,” Mr. Yoshimura smiled at the boy. Kaneki thanked us for helping him and left quickly. 

“I-I’m going to head to my room,” I said farewell, leaving Touka to glare at the older gentleman in the hallway. She was pissed, I could tell, but I wasn’t in the headspace to stay and explain what happened along with Mr. Yoshimura. He didn’t need me to help anyway. That old man always knew the right things to say. 

*

The sun had finally set for the night, and I was starting to feel agitated in my room. Since Kaneki came by the cafe, I’ve been throwing a pity party for myself, and I needed to stop. I decided some fresh air would do me good and headed out of the cafe for a walk. I was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, with the hood pulled over my head and a pair of headphones shoved into my ears. Loud music blasted into my eardrums, and the cool night air nipped at my nose. My feet took me down the alleyway near Anteiku, where ghouls usually hunted at night, but I stayed clear of the feeding corners. 

Being a ghoul, you knew whose turf was whose, and if you got caught wandering around an area you weren’t allowed in, a fight would break out. I’ve been in this area long enough to know which alleyways I could walk down peacefully and which I should avoid. The area my feet decided to take me was Rize’s old hunting grounds. With her being gone, I knew this area should be desolate. No ghoul lurking in the shadows scared that Rize might rip their heads off for being in her area, and no humans due to the high number of ghoul killings in this section. But my peace was interrupted the further I walked into the maze-like alley. 

I stumbled across a ghoul named Nishiki Nishio holding someone against the wall while he ranted about having his territory disturbed. Gah. This prick. I’ve never liked him since we briefly met a few years ago, and if I ran into him, I would do my best to ignore him. I felt terrible for the hopeless ghoul he was threatening, and then I realized the ghoul he was threatening was none other than Kaneki. I stood there frozen, unsure of what to do, like the date situation all over again. But I’d be damned if I just stood around this time and didn’t interfere, so without thinking, I stepped forward.

“This isn’t your turf, Nishiki. It belongs to Rize.” I used the excuse of this area being Rize’s turf in hopes it would scare him, but when he cocked his head to look at me, all he did was laugh.

“Don’t be so silly, (Y/n). Everyone knows Rize is dead.” His manic eyes stared into mine.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s dead. Anteiku oversees the 20th ward, and if you want a hunting ground, you have to go over it with Mr. Yohsimura.” My voice was stern as I glared daggers back at Nishiki. He let go of Kaneki’s neck, causing the boy to fall to the ground and gasp for air. The tall brunette slowly walked my way, eyes glaring red and hands clenched into fists.

“I can’t stand you guys over at Anteiku. That old shithead pisses me off with his human-loving hippie shit.” He stops a few inches from my face, “This used to be my turf before that binge-eating bitch came into town, and now that she’s dead, it BELONGS TO ME.” He spat. I didn’t want him to see that I was affected by anything he was doing, so I tried to summon my inner Touka and held the meanest RBF possible. 

“And I can’t stand pricks like you,” Maybe I summoned her too well because the next thing I knew, the tall brunette was lunging at me. I quickly dodged Nishiki’s attack and unleashed my kagune. My kagune was a koukaku type, otherwise known as the sword kagune, and it was released right below my right shoulder blade and warped into a sword-like figure around my arm. It almost looked like the kind of sword you would see in a fantasy video game, and not to fluff my ego, but my kagune is really pretty. 

I stared down the angry male and prepared myself for another attack. He might be more robust than me, but I could severely injure him if I time my move right. As he dashed at me, I used my sword to slash a gaping wound from his right cheek down to his right hip. He yelled in pain and collapsed to the ground. Nishiki quickly pulled his body off the ground, cursing under his breath, and sent one last glare before sprinting in the opposite direction.

I let out a deep, shaky breath and fell to my knees. That was scarier than I thought it would be. I’m not the type of ghoul to get into fights or provoke others. Usually, I stick to myself and avoid others at all costs, and if I find myself in a sticky situation, then I’m getting my ass beat. 

“W-what even are ghouls?!” Kanekis voice broke through the silence, “You guys kill humans and your own!” 

  “Kaneki-” 

“YOU’RE SICK!” His yell pierced deep within me, and all the shame I felt my whole life was brought to the surface. He’s right; we’re sick creatures. Tears threatened to spill down my face, but I held them back.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Was all I could choke out. I stayed there on the ground and watched the dark-haired boy scream out in agony. His left eye was beating red, and his veins started protruding through his skin. He was suffering. Not just from the agony of being turned into a ghoul but from the ever-consuming hunger eating away at him. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” 

His head whipped to look straight at me, and his face contorted into disgust, “I could never eat human flesh!” 

“Kaneki, I understand what you’re going through, but if you don’t eat-”

“I’ll never allow myself to become a monster like you! I’m a human being!” Tears flooded down his face, and his hands gripped at his hair, “A-and you, (Y/n), better stay away from Hide. I won’t let you ruin his life like Rize did mine!” 

Hide? Did he tell Kaneki about me? Of course, he did. They’re best friends. But Kaneki is right; a monster like me should avoid Hide and all humans. Our worlds don’t mix. I pushed myself off the ground and ran away from the dark-haired boy before he could see the waterfall of tears cascading down my face.

——————————

A loud alarm jolted me from slumber. I rubbed my swollen eyes from a long night of tears, and a deep sigh escaped my lips. I wish I didn’t have to go to school today. The most sleep I got, in total, was around 3 hours. The thoughts swarming my head wouldn’t shut up, and at some point in the night, I let out an anguishing scream. This wasn’t a rare occurrence; unfortunately, I’ve had night terrors most of my life and would wake up screaming. Yomo came rushing in to see the stains of salty tears streaking my cheeks, and he quickly wrapped me in his arms and petted my hair. He whispered that everything was okay and that it was all a bad dream, but this time, everything that had happened was real. The long, white-haired male was able to calm me down and lull me to sleep. Now I’m awake again. If I let every night like this keep me from going to school, I would miss most of my classes, so I dragged my body out of bed. 

I quickly washed my face, brushed my teeth, and beat some concealer into my skin to hide my lack of sleep. I decided to wear a cropped, long-sleeve top with thick stripes going across and torn fringes dangling from the bottom, along with oversized mom jeans and a pair of Doc Martins. My school bag was just a plain black crossbody tote, and I slung it over my shoulder, giving myself a once-over in the mirror before leaving my room. As I made my way to the cafe, I quickly stopped by the fridge and grabbed a few bottles of our nitro coffee. I will need all the energy I can get for a full day of classes. 

I’m studying art at Kamii University, which thankfully means I only have classes for three days a week, and I get to bend my creative mind—sometimes. It was hard for me to focus on anything the teachers talked about or showed us, and I put little work into the lessons during class. By the end of the day, I slowly walked through the campus, made my way to one of the courtyards, and sat on a bench tucked under a tree. I leaned back, letting my eyes flutter close, and listened to all the noises around me. The chatter of people walking by, the chirp of birds in the trees, and cars off in the distance. Every sound flows together, creating a peaceful cadence. For a moment, the muscles in my body relaxed. I could curl up on the bench and take a much-needed nap. 

“(Y/n)?” A deep voice calls out to me. Why, cruel world, must you rip me out of this peaceful moment? I open my eyes to see Hide and Kaneki standing before me. The blonde-haired boy flashed me his signature smile, and the dark-haired boy glared at me from behind his friend. “I didn’t know you went to school here!” His cheerful voice rang through my ears. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I shifted my gaze to the ground and did my best not to seem interested in the conversation. After what Kaneki said last night, it felt wrong to interact with Hide.

“Kaneki, this is (Y/n), the girl who saved your life!” Hide’s statement made both Kaneki and me flinch.

“Hide, we should probably get going,” Kaneki tried to pull the vibrant boy away.

“Huh?” Hide’s olive eyes stared at his friend briefly and then drifted toward me. “(Y/n) would you like to join us?” He gazed softly at me, causing my heart to race. I’ve never had someone look at me with such gentleness like the way he’s doing right now. My heart fluttered and hurt at the same time. I wanted to accept his offer but had to turn him down. At least we haven’t grown too close to where doing this would be more painful. 

“Sorry, Hide, but I should head home,” The sadness was evident in my voice. I stood from the bench and re-slung my bag over my shoulder.

“Did something else happen between you that I don’t know about?” The blonde gestured between Kaneki and me. 

“What?” I nervously laughed. “I just have a lot of homework.” He looked at me with a questioning gaze, and I could tell he was developing theories.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hide flashed me a somber smile, “Hopefully, I’ll see you later.” The blonde boy started walking away, but Kaneki, still facing me, looked like he was internally fighting himself. 

I approached the black-haired boy and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll stay away from him.” 

“(Y/n),” Kaneki’s deep silver eyes trapped me in his presence. They danced across my face, taking in every inch. I felt exposed like he saw all the terrible things I’ve ever done, and I was just waiting for him to spit another crude comment, but people keep surprising me lately.

“She’s coming with us!” Kaneki called out to Hide. 

“Hu-What?” My mouth was gaping open and closing like a fish out of water. 

Hide turned around to look at me, “Are you sure? You don’t have to join us if you’re busy.”  

“No, it’s okay,” I shot Kaneki a thankful glance, “I would love to go with you.” 

Hide and I walked alongside one another, and Kaneki trailed slightly behind us. I knew he’d stay back to watch me, so I made sure to be mindful of my actions. I wanted to show Kaneki I wasn’t a nasty ghoul like the few he’d encountered. He doesn’t ever have to worry about me hurting his dear friend.

We walked through the campus, and I must admit this is the first time I’ve been to the dorms. They were just as pretty as the main building, and I fantasized about what it would be like to live in the dorms: making friends, having a roommate, going to parties, and getting to be an ordinary college girl. That would be nice. On our way into one of the dormitories, Hide explained that we were going to an upperclassmen’s room to pick up a DVD from last year’s festival. The blonde boy then told Kaneki and me what setting up for the festival was like. It seemed like a lot of work, but how Hide lit up and talked excitedly made me want to join the committee. Maybe I should look into it anyway? Socializing would do me good, and I would spend more time with Hide.   

We made our way in front of a door, and the vibrant boy exclaimed that we had finally arrived and flung the door open, revealing a girl straddling some guy’s lap. Her shirt was unbuttoned, exposing her breasts, and the boy’s lips trailed along her neck. But within the split second of Hide barging in, the poor girl screamed and jumped away from the guy she was sitting on. Quickly, she fixed her shirt and then ran out of the door. I instinctively slapped my hands to cover my eyes from the inappropriate scene in front of me. This is why we knock kids.

“Nagachika,” the two boys blocked my view of the guy in the room, so I couldn’t see who it was, but that voice sounded familiar, making my hair stand on end. “I really don’t like my territory being violated.” 

“Nishiki?!” His name came out of my mouth before I could stop it. Great, why him?

“Oh? (Y/n).” He looked at me with his snake-like eyes. 

“You guys know each other?” Hide asked.

“Unfortunately,” I glared at the brunette boy. He sat unfazed in his desk chair with a bandaid plastered to his cheek. I couldn’t help but smirk, knowing my attack was deep enough and still healing. 

“Oh, well,” the blonde awkwardly scratched his head. “I guess I don’t have to introduce you two.” Hide then pointed towards the black-haired boy, “Kaneki, this is Nishio, Nishio, Kaneki.” 

The tall brunette gets up from his chair and fixes his shirt. He takes a few long strides to Kaneki and stops in front of his face, giving Kaneki a chilling smile. “Nice to meet you, Kaneki,” Nishiki’s voice was dark, and I couldn’t help but tremble along with Kaneki. The poor boy looked like he was going to faint. He already didn’t like me because I was a ghoul and didn’t initially like the idea of me around Hide, so he must be freaking out now that another ghoul is in the equation. Especially a violent one like Nishiki. 

Hide drew Nishiki’s attention by asking for the DVD for last year’s festival. The brunette started delegating areas for all of us to look at, and I felt like I’d gotten whiplash from the sudden threatening aura he gave to this now-normal college student he’s showing. It was weird to be in a room with Nishiki and not be arguing or having to defend myself. We spent about ten minutes looking for this green case that held the special CD that Hide needed.

“Oh, you know what? I took that disk home,” Nishiki said. Like hell, he took it home. He’s up to something, and I don’t like it. “It’s not too far, so we could head over there and grab it.”

“Hide, do you need it right now? Nishiki can always bring it to you tomorrow.” I looked at the blonde boy with pleading eyes, hoping he would understand what I was trying to say. Don’t go with him. It’s a trap. 

“Don’t worry, guys,” Hide flashed us a bright smile, “You don’t have to come along.” 

“I-I’m coming along!” Kaneki quickly responded.

“Yeah, I’m not leaving you alone with Nishiki,” I said bluntly. He already knows how I feel about him, so there’s no point in hiding it. 

“What’s gotten into you guys?” Hide questions.

“I’ve been cooped up at home, so going out somewhere would be nice.” Kaneki’s reply seems legit since he has been home the past few days since he got out of the hospital, but it’s clear that he doesn’t want his friend to be alone with Nishiki. 

“I don’t trust Nishiki,” I flatly said. Maybe Hide will change his mind about going if I’m honest about how terrible Nishiki is, or I could make him believe I’m uncomfortable and would like us all to go somewhere else, which isn’t entirely wrong. I got lucky last night with the hit I landed on him, and I doubt the universe would allow me to be this lucky twice in a row. 

“Aww, (Y/n), after all these years, you still don’t trust me,” Nishiki says. He walks towards me and tries to wrap his arm around my shoulder, but I step to the side, brushing him off. That annoyed him, and he glared at me through his hooded eyes. His face will get stuck in a permanent glare if he does it one more time. 

Hide slides between the brunette and me, an uncomfortable chuckle escaping his lips, “Well, let’s head out then.” 

*

Nishiki and Hide chatted as we walked along the sidewalk while Kaneki and I sulked in the back. Well, Kaneki was the one sulking as I burned daggers into Nishiki’s back. We encountered a Taiyaki stand on our way, and Nishiki insisted we get some. Hide seemed happy to snack on something, and I begrudgingly accepted the treat. I had drunk all my coffee earlier, so I could not wash the vile taste down after eating the Taiyaki. Kaneki watched Nishiki and me with amazement at how we stomached the food. He must learn to eat and look like he’s enjoying it if he still wants to blend in with his friend. 

“Nishio, how much further?” Hide asks the brunette.

“It’s just around the corner here.” The tall male walks up behind the blonde boy. Before I could react, Nishiki slammed his foot into Hide’s back, sending him flying into the wall ahead of us. 

“Hide!” Kaneki and I screamed. 

Without thinking, I released my kagune, and I rushed towards Nishki. He quickly dodged my attack and then slammed his foot on me. The sheer pressure of him stomping me into the ground broke the concrete beneath me. I could feel the snapping of my ribs, and I groaned in pain as I tried to wriggle my way out. He had me pinned.

“I won’t be going easy on you today (Y/n). We’re not by your precious Anteiku, so I don’t have to worry about those shitheads showing up to help you.” I should’ve known I won yesterday because he didn’t want to deal with Mr. Yoshimura or Yomo. “My strength can match Touka’s or even Yomos if I wanted it to, and right now, I’m just using 80%.” He pushes his foot even further into my body. Then he kicks my side, sending me tumbling across the floor. I really shouldn’t have turned down all those sparing sessions from Yomo. They could have come in handy right now. Even with the blinding pain shooting through my abdomen, I pull myself off the ground and take a fighting stance. I won’t give up until I can’t move anymore.

This time, I wait for Nishiki to come towards me, and when he gets close enough to try and kick me again, I swing my sword down at him and slash his leg. “You bitch!” He yells at me, stumbling backward. Oh good, I landed a blow. It wasn’t the leg his kagune wraps around, but it’ll kill his speed with how much he relies on his legs. It won’t give me an advantage, but It might help me. I could see the blood boiling inside him, and I prepared myself for his next move, knowing Nishiki would be full of anger.  But nothing could’ve prepared me for the way he slammed his head against mine, causing the room to spin and taking advantage of my momentary dizziness to kick his kagune straight through my stomach. Blood trickled up my throat, and I choked on the thick fluid, spitting some up onto the brunette boy’s face. 

“You’re so fucking weak.” Nishiki slowly retracted his kagune from my body. With a loud thud, my body collapsed to the ground. My vision was fading in and out, and a loud buzzing rang throughout my ears. I tried to pull myself together but couldn’t determine which way was up or down. The pain was so unreal my body almost went numb, but I could feel the warm liquid coat my skin. I could practically make out two blurry figures fighting against one another and hear a faint scream somewhere in the distance. My sense of self was slowly starting to come back. I lifted my head to see Nishiki hovering over Hide. Nishiki’s foot was lifted over the blonde boy’s head, and he slammed it against his face. I still couldn’t distinguish his exact words, but I knew he was taunting Kaneki. He slammed his foot down again.

“N-No,” I tried to croak out, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was more blood. I couldn’t let him hurt Hide. He could kill him without even meaning to. With the bit of strength left in my body, I hurried to fling myself over the vibrant boy, and once my body was over his, a heavy foot collided with my skull. Then everything turned black.

——————————

When I woke back up, I was lying in my bed at Anteiku, and the pain I felt in my abdomen was nearly gone. I dragged my sore body out of bed and hobbled into the hallway. A slight cramp sprang through my stomach, letting me know I hadn’t completely healed yet. My feet dragged against the floor, and I stopped before Mr. Yoshimura’s office. I tapped my knuckles against the wooden door and waited for the older man’s voice to float through, letting me know I could enter. He seemed surprised to see me out of bed and standing before him. 

“(Y/n), what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting.” Mr. Yoshimura’s voice was strict but caring. 

“H-Hide, what happened to him?” My throat still felt raw, and the words tumbling out didn’t sound quite right.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Mr. Yoshimura held his arm out to me, and I gratefully accepted. He helped me walk down the hall to one of the empty rooms and slid the door open. On the bed lay a boy sleeping, his head wrapped up and tufts of dirty blonde hair sticking out the top. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, and my lips trembled.

“W-what happened?” I choked out.

“Touka was passing by and was able to stop the fight. She immediately called Yomo to explain the situation, and we quickly rushed to help. Then we brought everyone back to Anteiku.” 

“So Touka saved us. I guess I’ll have to thank her later,” I paused and stared at the serene boy lying on the bed, “Is it okay if I stay in here?” Mr. Yoshimura nodded and then turned around to leave me alone with Hide. I hobbled closer to the bed and kneeled on the floor beside him. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to the boy, “I’m so, so, s-sorry.” My body began to convulse as the tears came flooding out. I draped my body over the side of the bed and stayed lying there until I cried myself back to sleep.

I was woken back up by the sound of the door sliding back open. I whipped my head off the bed to see Kaneki standing in the doorway, tears also staining his eyes. A look of relief washed over him as he stared down at his friend, who was still alive. 

“Kaneki,” My voice was soft, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I flashed a small smile at him.

“(Y/n), I-I,” the black-haired male gripped his stomach and then glanced back at Mr. Yoshimura standing behind him. “I don’t feel hungry anymore…” Kanekis’s voice trailed off. “What did you do to me?” He asked the older man.

“There is only one way to eliminate a ghoul’s hunger, and I think you know what that is.” Mr. Yoshimura said matter-of-factly, “If you kept going down the road you were on, you would have killed your friend.” The old man’s usually closed eyes opened widely, and he looked Kaneki straight on, “Accept what you are.” 

The poor boy hung his head, and the tears slipped past his eyes and fell to the floor, “I-I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You don’t have to,” I finally spoke, “Here at Anteiku, we get our food without hurting humans.”

“I-I, I just feel like I don’t belong anywhere,” Kaneki cried out, “I’m not a human anymore, but I’m also not a ghoul.” 

“You’re wrong, young man,” Mr. Yoshimura said, resting a hand on Kaneki’s shoulder. “You’re both. You’re the only person who can exist in both worlds. So let us help you. We can teach you about ghouls, and you can teach us about humans.” 

——————————

Hide’s POV

I woke up with an intense pounding in my head, and my body was sore. The last thing I remember was walking with Nishiki, Kaneki, and (Y/n), and then something crashed into me, knocking me out cold. There was a split moment where I remember fading back into consciousness, and something, no, someone, was covering my body. It was (Y/n), but it feels like a fever dream. I’m not sure if that was even real. I took in the room around me, and it didn’t seem like a hospital. Where was I? This is just a regular bedroom, but who brought me here? What even happened? I slowly sat up in the bed, my body aching in protest, but stopped mid-movement when I noticed a (h/c) haired girl slumped over the bed I was lying on.  

Her cheek rested on her arms, and her back rose with a deep breath. Salty trails stained her face, and my chest tightened at the thought that she lay here crying till she most likely passed out. Gently, I reached out to her soft face and rubbed away the marks her tears left. She leaned into my touch, so I left my hand there, cupping her cheek. (Y/n), I can’t help but feel like you saved me today but hurt yourself in the process of doing it. My finger lightly rubbed against her skin, and I leaned down carefully, kissing her forehead. She’s been through a lot these past few days and deserves rest. Maybe I should get up and lay her in the bed?

Before I could do anything, my ears perked up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway and a set of male voices. One sounded more mature, and the other was a soft voice I knew by heart. Kaneki. He seemed worried, but the other male reassured him. The steps approached my room, and my gut told me I shouldn’t be awake yet. So I quickly laid back down and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. The door slid open, and a choked sob left the timid boy’s throat. Oh, Kaneki, he’s never been one to deal with hardships well. I could feel (Y/n)’s body jolt off the bed, and her sweet voice broke through the air. She greeted Kaneki and expressed how thankful she was that he was okay. It seems that whatever happened, we were all hurt badly. 

The next few moments were challenging to stay still for, but they confirmed many things I already suspected. Kaneki is half-ghoul now, and in fact, everyone in this room is a ghoul except me. Honestly, it didn’t scare me; I was just relieved to know why my friend was acting differently now, and it killed me to hear him sound so broken. So lonely. He would be dumb if he thought I would stop being his friend because he’s different now. It also makes sense why (Y/n) acted weirdly with me. She’s scared to get close to a human, but I’ll slowly show her it’s okay. 

The older gentleman had left the room to give Kaneki some space after their emotional conversation, and (Y/n) was about to go when Kaneki called out to her. “Wait, (Y/n),” my friend spoke softly. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for all the harsh things I said to you last night.” 

Harsh things he said? Did he say something rude to her? Was that why she didn’t want to join us when I first asked?

“It’s okay; it wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before,” Her voice made me want to jump out of bed and pull her into my arms.

“It’s not okay, and I’m realizing that now. You sacrificed yourself to keep Hide safe when I could barely fight or keep myself together. You threw your body over him to protect him from Nishio.” 

What?! So, I wasn’t hallucinating. She was covering me to keep me safe.

“Thank you for keeping my best friend safe,” Kaneki cried. This brought me back to the cafe where the (h/c) haired girl told me how she saved Kaneki. She truly is something else, isn’t she?

——————————

next

AN:

Hey everyone I’m just testing out this story here on tumblr! I’ve also uploaded it on Quotev! Let me know what you think!

I do plan on posting this story on Quotev first before anything else, so look for it there!