#finally finished writing it out

[ceruark]

what the cat dragged in

[yan! michael kaiser x fem! reader, childhood friends au.] synopsis: your grandfather once cautioned you against feeding strays. it’s a lesson you wouldn’t fully learn until many years later. words: 4.6k cw: yandere themes - obsession, possessiveness, implied stalking, slight dubcon (no nsfw). a/n: [head in hands] this was supposed to be a drabble

“You be careful with that, now.”

At the sound of your grandfather’s voice, you glance over your shoulder, fixing your attention on the man standing in the doorway, propped up against his cane. Your knees and face are smeared with mud, as any seven year-old’s would be. 

You turn back around, cooing gently at the scraggly kitten that eats the canned tuna out of the palm of your hand. You lift your free hand to scratch at its head, smiling as it nuzzles into your hand before going back to the food.

“Why?” You ask innocently. “It’s so cute.”

“It’s a stray,” your grandfather says, voice dripping with disgust on the last word. “If you feed it, it’ll keep coming back.”

You frown. Would such a thing be so bad? If the poor little guy was hungry, you would happily indulge it; after all, withholding such a vital thing to its survival would be cruel.

“But it’s hungry,” you whine. The kitten polishes off the rest of the tuna before looking up at you and meowing loudly, bumping its head against your palm. Your heart soars at the endearing action.

“I’m serious,” your grandfather snaps at you in the tone that tells you you’ll be in trouble if you don’t listen. You give the kitten one last pet before reluctantly retracting your hand. You bite down on your warbling lip and blink away tears when it meows at your sudden absence in confusion and protest.

You walk over to your grandfather, and he takes your small wrist into his hand. He takes in your crestfallen expression and sighs, shaking his head.

“It’s for the best,” he says softly. “You don’t want strays getting attached to you.”

You look up at him with big, watery eyes. “Why not?”

“Because no matter how much you feed them, they’ll always be hungry, and then they’ll never leave you alone.”

Despite your grandfather’s warning, you continue to feed the kitten.

You’re careful to do it somewhere he won’t catch you, though. It’s summer, so you’ve been spending a lot of your time in the park that’s only around the block from your house. Turns out the kitten has been spending lots of time sunbathing there, too, so you make sure to start sneaking out some canned tuna with your packed lunch.

You walk past the swingset and toward the large, twisting slide that you’ve gotten used to finding the kitten under this time of day. Your small purple lunch bag bounces against your leg as you skip happily, swinging your arms animatedly. The tune you’re humming gets stuck in your throat and dies as you duck under the play structure and find a small figure already huddled beneath the slide.

A boy in a black hoodie two sizes too big for his frail body sits criss-cross on the floor. Bruised hands gently pet the kitten, which is curled up in his lap and purring softly. He can’t be that much younger than you— probably only by a year— but he seems far smaller than the kids in the grade below you at school, concerningly so.

His head snaps up as your feet come into his line of his vision, wide, impossibly blue eyes locking onto yours. He flinches so hard that the kitten yowls and jumps out of his lap, startled. He curls in on himself defensively and his breathing becomes labored, yet his wide eyes never leave you, tracking your every movement.

You blink in confusion at his reaction. “Um,” you start to say, but you’re cut off by a loud meow cutting through the air.

You turn to the kitten, which has now settled at your side and is pawing at your lunch bag. You giggle— of course, it’s already come to know where its next meal is coming from. You pick up the bag and unzip it, producing the canned tuna from inside it. You grunt as you tug at the tab a few times, but finally it gives way and comes off cleanly. You place it down, and the kitten eagerly prances up to it and starts eating out of it.

After a long moment of watching it eat, your eyes drift back to the boy across from you. His eyes are locked onto the kitten with such focus that it’s concerning.

Then, you realize he’s not looking at the kitten— he’s looking at the tuna sitting on the floor.

You reach back into your bag and take out a sandwich secured tightly in saran wrap. You unwrap it then split it in half, extending your arm out to offer it to the boy.

His eyes dart down to the sandwich and back to you, but he doesn’t make any move to take it.

“Here,” you say, waving your arm up and down in emphasis. “You can have some, if you want. Mom always packs too much for me, so I’m okay sharing with you!”

He glances back down at the sandwich and hesitates for just a moment more before his hand shoots out, snatching it out of your own and quickly bringing it to his mouth. You avert your eyes back to the kitten as he eats it, slowly working through your own half of your lunch.

When you’re done, you peek into the bag to see what else your mom packed for you. There’s a small bag of chips, an orange, and a banana. Maybe it’s a little selfish to keep the chips for yourself, but the boy seems to be just as eager when you set the fruits in front of him, so it’s probably fine.

He finishes eating before you do, and slowly, he inches closer toward you and the cat. He begins petting it again, stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. 

Finished with your snack, you crumple the bag up and throw it into your lunch bag before zipping it back up. You brush your hand off on your pants, leaving a smatter of chip dust behind that your mom will probably chide you for later. 

You look up at the boy, who is already staring at you. He flushes red and is about to look away when you hold your hand to him and introduce yourself.

You tilt your head toward him with a warm smile. “What’s your name?”

Michael waits for you under the slide the next day, and the next, and the one after that.

Days bleed into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. You become permanent fixtures in each other’s lives. You bring snacks and books, bandages and a gentle touch and an unspoken oath to never ask, never pry. He brings nothing but himself, but for you, that is enough.

Your mother never asks why you pack extra food, or where it’s ending up. She likely just chalks it up to you being a growing girl, and for that, you are grateful.

There are some days, though, where you’re being looked after by your father, who chides you for taking more than you need and makes you put the extras back in the pantry. On those days, you apologize to Michael for the smaller portions you both have, but he simply brushes it off. He says he couldn’t care less if you show up with no food at all, so long as you show up.

At some point, it stops being about the food, you just fail to realize it. Michael never breaks his habit of trailing behind you like your own shadow, and he’s not exactly a sociable person (in fact, his glare alone scares off any other kids your age who try to approach you two), so you figure there’s still something he wants from you. And because of your upbringing, hand-holding and leaning against each other and hugging is something so normal to you that you cannot even begin to suspect that there is something much different he’s actually after.

You’re fourteen and he’s thirteen the first time he kisses you.

It’s a sunny day, but not too hot; there’s a nice breeze in the air that keeps you cool as you sit in the grass, idly popping grapes into your mouth as you watch Michael kick a ball into a wall over and over again, as is customary for you two these days. As always, he eventually wears himself out and finds his way over to you, collapsing beside you and leaning his full body weight against your side as you complain and futilely try to push him off.

“Micha, get off,” you whine, shoving at his shoulder. He doesn’t budge, and instead sighs in irritation and wraps his arms around yours to stop your attempts. “You’re heavy!”

“Your fault for feeding me so much,” he mumbles into your shoulder, prompting you to roll your eyes. “Seems like oversight on your part.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have if I knew you’d grow up to be this annoying.” Your words lack heat, of course— you don’t really mean it, and even if it wasn’t evident by your tone, it’s evident in the way you relax into his embrace. “Seriously, though. You’re all sweaty. It’s gross.”

Michael gives one last aggrieved sigh before releasing you. He reaches for the water bottle set beside you and drinks from it, and you go back to your grapes.

A comfortable silence settles between you two as you observe the other people in the park. It’s summer, so it’s busier than usual, which means Michael will probably leave sooner rather than later.

You turn to look at him, but as always, he’s already looking down at you. 

You tilt your head to the side. “Do you need something?” You ask playfully.

Michael stares at you a moment longer, the wind rustling his hair into his face. Then, he leans down so quickly that you can’t react before he presses his lips to yours.

It’s soft, gentle. It’s barely there, his desire contained by a hesitation you haven’t seen within him in so long. 

When you don’t respond, he pulls back, his face carefully smoothed over into a blank canvas, but you know him better than that. Fear dances in his eyes, fear that he’s overstepped and swung a sledgehammer straight into your friendship.

You blink rapidly, trying to pull yourself together. “Oh,” you say, smartly, and then feel yourself flush red as you fully process what just happened. 

“Sorry,” he mutters under his breath. It sounds wrong coming from him, and you reach out to grab his arm just as he starts to withdraw into himself.

“Hey, look, it’s fine. I just— you just caught me by surprise. That’s all.”

He looks back at you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His blue eyes are shining, but there’s something dark in them that you haven’t seen before, something you can’t quite place.

“It’s fine?” He echoes in question.

You feel your face grow hotter.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, “it’s fine.”

When he leans down this time, you respond in kind.

You’re always the one to break off the kisses shared between you two.

At this point, you’re convinced he’s not human, given the way that lack of air never seems to be a problem for him. If anything, he seems more annoyed by the fact that you’ve stopped kissing him than the fact that he’s nearly panting from how long he’s gone without taking a proper breath. 

He’s insatiable, you quickly find out. Shockingly, for a few weeks following your first kiss, he spends more of his time kissing you under the slide than playing football. When you get tired or want to take a break, he just opts to hold you in a tight embrace until you’re ready to kiss again or have to leave. 

Eventually, his initial enthusiasm dies down, but his way of kissing you never changes. Shallow, rapid kisses swapped between inexperienced middle schoolers, but he never lets up, always eager to meet your lips again and take in your breath in place of oxygen.

You never put a name to whatever’s happening between you two. You’re not friends anymore, that much is clear, but you two don’t have the means of going out on dates, either.

Regardless of what you are, he becomes clingier than ever following the shift in your relationship, and a small part of you can’t help but feel like you’re suffocating.

“Micha.”

He looks up from the ball at his feet, skillfully dribbling it despite the fact that his focus is elsewhere. It’s impressive; hopefully, one day, you’ll be able to see him play professionally.

Your heart sinks to your stomach and sits there heavily. Would that be the next time you see him? On some screen, miles away from him, years from this moment in this time?

You’re moving out of Berlin. Your father’s being suddenly transferred to an office in Cologne, and you have just five days to get all your stuff packed up and ready to go for the train ride on Sunday. You have a shitty starter phone— your parents aren’t keen on you having a smartphone, yet— but Micha has nothing. You suppose you could write to him, but that would put him at risk if his father got to the mail before he did.

When he catches the look on your face, he settles the ball at his feet and locks his full attention on you. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow, averting your gaze to the ground. “I’m moving,” you mumble.

A thick silence settles between you two. The soft breeze is sharp in your ears, like deafening static reverberating through your head.

His voice comes out sharp, digging in a way you’ve never heard it before. “What?”

“I’m moving,” you repeat. “I’m leaving. Dad’s job— we’ve got to go to Cologne.”

He doesn’t respond for so long that you finally force yourself to look up at him. His face has gone completely blank, and there’s only something dark in his eyes, something completely unreadable to you.

His voice is tight when he asks, “When are you coming back?”

“I—” You sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t think I am. I think the transfer’s permanent.”

He looks down, seemingly mulling over your words. When he looks up again, his gaze goes is cold, and he hums, straightening out. “No.”

You blink, confused. “No?”

“You’re not leaving.”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

He looks down at you derisively, seemingly irritated that he has to repeat himself. “I said you’re not leaving.”

“I can’t just not leave,” you spit out. He’s starting to be ridiculous, and his condescension has never been something that bodes well with you, having only been on the receiving end of it so few times. “I’m not gonna have any family here.”

He jostles the ball between his feet as if this is another one your shared mundane conversations. “So we’ll just run away together.”

You narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

He slants a side look at you. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, voice getting higher with each word, “just two teenagers running away and figuring out how to make ends meet. Can you please take this seriously?”

His foot comes down on top of the ball, hard. He flicks a finger between you two. “I am the only one taking this seriously.”

“This,” you echo, incredulous. “A stupid relationship.”

He kicks the ball to the side and turns to face you fully, and that’s how you know you fucked up. Each word bites as he asks, “Is that all this is to you?”

“You know I care about you, Micha,” you say carefully, “but asking me to throw away my family to stay with you is insane.”

Something shutters in his expression, but it’s gone before you can even register it. “I knew it,” he spits, “you’ve never cared about me as much as you’ve led me to believe.”

You grit your teeth. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs. “You obviously don’t value me as much as I value you.”

“Oh my god,” you snap, “you are fourteen. Get the fuck over yourself.”

“You think this is meaningless because we’re young?”

“I think,” you hiss, “that we have our whole lives ahead of us. I wouldn’t ask you to stay by my side if you had bigger and better things ahead of you.”

He continues to stare at you in icy silence. You sigh, frustrated.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work itself out,” you say.

Michael tilts his head, as if considering this. His eyes wander your face, committing every bit to memory. Then, he walks over to you, seizing your wrist in his hand. You step back, a bit thrown off, but he lightly tugs on your arm, pulling you back toward him. 

“It will work out,” he says, eyes boring into yours. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He leans down and presses a familiar, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Then you won’t have to leave me ever again.”

This time, when you pull away, he lets you go. Seemingly without a care in the world, he turns around and picks up the ball, heading toward the trail that he takes home.

You return to the park the day before you leave, but you don’t see him. You wait for hours, but he never shows.

The unease twisting in your gut doesn’t unravel until the train speeds away from the station, leaving Berlin behind you.

You’re about to turn eighteen when you see him again.

Not in person, but on a screen like you expected. The name Michael Kaiser sits in a scrolling bar across the bottom of the screen which plays footage of him playing on Bastard München’s youth team, his long golden hair flowing behind him beautifully. The news anchor says something about him being one of the most promising players of the new generation— not that that’s something you need to be told.

Your friend says something from across the table, ripping your attention from the screen. You don’t notice how tense you’ve gotten until you relax again.

Despite the lingering feeling of unease his memory leaves you with, you’re still glad he made it, after all.

“Who’s this?”

You’re back home for the holidays during your second year in university. Your studies have taken you back to Berlin, albeit a part you hadn’t grown up near and is still new and fresh to you. “Home” might not be the right word, though— you’re spending Christmas Eve at your grandmother’s house. She’s been hosting your entire family the past couple years since your grandfather’s passing forced her to relocate to a smaller house, an attempt to fill the empty home with warm presences.

Currently, she’s playing with a small, bedraggled dog that has wandered onto her porch. It’s wheezy and staggers when it walks, indicative of its old age.

“Oh, just a sweet little thing,” your grandmother replies as she pets its back. “You know, your grandfather always hated it when I would feed the strays. I did it a lot back at the old house on the other side of town, but there’s not too many animals on this side, so I don’t really do it anymore.”

You consider the dog. Its fur is matted, but nonetheless, its tail wags so hard from your grandmother’s attention that its whole body shakes with it. It sneezes pathetically.

You shove your hands into your coat pockets. “So this is a new one, then?”

“Well, not quite.” Your grandmother chuckles. “I first met this little guy back at the old house. I’ve been feeding him since he was a puppy! Seems he found his way back home on his own.”

“Huh.” Your eyes snap back to her. “I didn’t think they could actually do that.”

She laughs some more. “The most determined and loved ones can.”

You retreat back into the house. Your younger cousins jump on you immediately, demanding you play whatever nonsensical game they’ve thought up this time. You shed your coat, and with it, your lingering distress at your grandmother’s words.

“Oh my god, do you have a secret admirer?”

Your roommate’s voice pulls you out of your shocked state. The dread freezing your veins gradually thaws out, and you kneel down to pick the bouquet of flowers off the floor in front of the entrance to your shared apartment.

Blue forget-me-nots, with some blue roses interspersed throughout.

It’s October now. Just under a year has passed since Christmas, but your grandmother’s words are fresh in your mind, as if you’d heard them just yesterday.

You fumble around with the bouquet, movements becoming more frantic when you can’t find what you’re looking for. “There’s no card attached to this.”

“Well, duh,” your roommate says. “That would defeat the purpose of a secret admirer.”

Except, it’s not a secret who sent you these. You might have been able to brush it off if it was just the forget-me-nots, but the roses speak for themselves.

You flick your wrist out to the side, shoving the bouquet into your roommate’s chest. She grabs onto them, so you let them go in favor of getting the door unlocked.

“Figure out what to do with them,” you say as you enter the apartment.

She trails in after you, hot on your heels in incredulity. “Wait, you’re seriously not going to keep them?”

“You know I’m not interested in a relationship right now,” you say breezily, feigning a calmness that contradicts your racing heart. “It’s a sweet gesture, but I don’t want them.”

“I mean—” Your roommate stammers a bit before her words peter out. She sighs, then starts rummaging in the cabinet beneath the sink. “Alright, whatever you say.”

She ends up arranging them in a nice glass vase you weren’t aware you two even own and sets them in the center of the dining table. They mock you until they wither and die, and you can finally dispose of them.

By the time February rolls around without any further incidents, your guard has lowered significantly, which is, of course, your first mistake.

You’re lounging on the couch in the common space when there’s light knocking at your apartment door. There’s mostly college students renting in this unit, so it’s not uncommon for someone to stop by and invite you to some party or other, and with Valentine’s around the corner, there’s sure to be plenty.

You set your laptop down on the coffee table and get to your feet, sliding your feet into your slippers and crossing the room to get to the apartment entrance. You reach up and begin to undo the locks without checking the peephole, which is your second mistake.

You pull the door open, and immediately, everything freezes in place.

His eyes are as blue as the day you met him, only his gaze is far sharper than they were even on the day you left. 

The television and billboards really don’t do him justice. He’s fully grown into his figure now, the diet and training regimen of a professional athlete filling him out in ways that the portioned-out food fed to him from your hands could not. His hair is choppy, but a face that gorgeous can make anything work. It’s pulled up into a messy bun made to look regal by the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The blue rose on his neck is stark against his skin, and you eye the thorny vines that trail down and disappear beneath his shirt.

You meet his eyes again, apprehensive. His face is impassive, but the intensity of his gaze betrays him and keeps you pinned in place.

You clutch the doorknob so tightly your knuckles go white.

“Michael,” you say softly, and he frowns slightly at that. “What are you doing here?”

How did you find me? The unasked question hangs in the air between you two, but neither of you reach for it.

“Who’s Michael?” He asks airily. He steps forward, and hooks a finger under your chin before you get the chance to move away from him. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your Micha already.”

You swallow thickly. “I haven’t,” you mumble.

He hums. His thumb brushes against your chin lightly as his gaze trails over your body. When it lands on you again, his eyes swallow you whole. “You look good.”

Heat floods your cheeks in spite of the dread settling in your stomach, and you look to the floor again. “Thanks.”

You attempt to step back, but there’s a hand that finds its way to the small of your back before you can. The hand on your chin tilts your head up, up, until you’re forced to look at him again.

“I spent so long waiting for you, liebling,” he says. “Is this how you greet your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You sputter. “I don’t—”

His thumb presses firmly against your lips, quieting your protests. “Friends don’t make out, do they?” When you don’t respond, he adds, “We never did break up, you know. I’m glad to see you haven’t cheated on me in my absence.”

You finally reach your breaking point, all the agitation and unease within you spilling over. You shove at him as hard as you can, but if he didn’t budge all those years ago, he certainly wasn’t budging now. You shove at him again, this time trying to use the movement to push yourself away rather than push him, but he swiftly grabs hold of both your wrists and tugs you back toward him. Caught off guard, you careen forward and crash into his chest. His arms snake around your waist, an iron cage holding you firmly against him.

“Micha,” you hiss, “let me go.”

“Now, liebe,” he coos, releasing his hold on you just enough for you to shift and properly look up at him. “You know what that will cost you.”

You glare up at him, but to your chagrin, he seems perfectly content to simply hold you and gaze down at you. As seconds bleed into minutes trapped in his hold, you crack under the pressure. 

You tilt your head up fully, and Michael lowers his head just enough to be within your reach. You close the distance between you two, intending for the kiss to be short, shallow, and sweet, just like your first.

You honestly should know better at this point. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head, and he pulls you back in just as you’re about to get away. 

The next kiss is deep, far more passion behind it than anything you two shared before you left. He bites at your bottom lip, and forces his tongue in when you startle. A whimper leaves your throat as he continues to lick into your mouth. You reach up to try to shove at his chest, but he places his other hand over it, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles in a mockery of a soothing gesture.

You gasp out when he finally breaks for air. Your lips sting from the sudden release of pressure, and a thin trail of saliva lines your bottom lip. You stumble back, but firm arms are there to catch you again.

You look up, and his pupil-blown eyes cause that unease to settle over you once more.

Gently, he brings your hand up to his lips and ghosts your knuckles over them.

There’s a glint in his eye as he asks, “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

Never satisfied. Insatiable, and now, somehow finding his way back to you.

You should have listened to your grandfather when you had the chance.

[galedekarios]

We loved like we were trying to make up for lost time. Every touch an apology, an 'I'm sorry I haven't been with you every day.'

— Caitlyn Siehl, What We Buried

[jaeminvore]

BLUR. | N.JM (M)

SYNOPSIS: Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face and hungover was one thing. Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face, hungover and in a bed that wasn’t your own in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were obviously not yours, was another and a punishment specifically made for you—your own personal hell.

CONTENT WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. dub-con, Jaemin’s a freak and a little fucked in the head, afab!reader, (ex)boyfriend’s best friend, sex under the influence of alcohol, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), sex-tapes, nudes (but make it artsy), face/throat-fucking, dirty-talk, mild possessiveness, mild obsession, smidge of fluff surprisingly, voyeurism and exhibitionism (kinda?), open-ended.

WORD COUNT: 7.5K

note: first of all, happy birthday to one of my favorite leos, Jaemin 💖 idk how many times i’ve looped the song but i think it was enough for me to come up with a fic inspired by it 💀 originally, this was supposed to be posted sooner but hey! Better late than never! Heed the warnings i beg if you don’t like the sound of this then please, you are absolutely free to click off! Other than that, please enjoy the filth ~

“You’re every single thing that I deserve. Maybe that’s too boring. ‘Cause I might say some thing you’ve never heard. Like I did last night, what a blur.” — Blur by Lolo Zouaï

You

hyuck

oh my fucking god HYUCK

WAKE UP

haechan

ugh woman WHA T

You

HELP

haechan

?? are you dying

wait where did you even go last night?

i didnt see u anywhere after like

well i dont remember

You

home

haechan

.

ok how tf am i gonna help with that

You

but its not MY home

and im pretty sure i slept with whoever took me here

haechan

😟

i’ll be at ur place

“Jesus—the guy try to eat you or something?”

You winced, covering the marks left by whoever fucking psycho thought they were a vampire.

Seriously, was all that really necessary? Leaving obvious bite marks and bruises to the point it looked like an animal attempted to maul you beyond recognition? Anyone with a functioning brain would obviously veto that idea in a heartbeat. Anyone with a modicum of chivalry could have stopped themselves from making your neck look like it did.

You were a contributing member to society and the thought of facing endless questions about your otherwise wild night out, at work of all places, was mortifying enough as it is. You had places to be. You had people to meet. 

One of those ‘people you had to meet’ happened to be Donghyuck. A constant presence in your day-to-day life and was essentially your best friend. Your ride or die. There should be some bias for one another when it comes to this friendship built from finding each other in bathrooms of college parties with either one’s head stuck in the toilet bowl.

You’ve literally seen each other at your worst, but Donghyuck was a Gemini first through and through. You weren’t one to succumb to the belief of stereotypes, yet Donghyuck proudly wore being two-faced like a badge of honor. He was your best friend, but he was also your worst enemy and never would he miss the opportunity in making you squirm underneath the palpable judgment swimming side-by-side with the curiosity alight in his eyes.

“Does it look that bad?” you asked quietly, just as curious, but leaning more towards your own reassurance.

The loud, grating laughter he let spill past his lips was enough to tell you that, yeah, it’s pretty gnarly and the likelihood of you getting some weird looks was at a moderate high.

“All I’m saying is—” he said then cleared his throat, “—is you’re gonna have to like, use half a tube of your best concealer.” he jeered, taking his time to assess the damage with an amused twitch of his lips before picking up the remote.

Case in point.

Although Donghyuck spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, that didn’t stop you from flicking his ear in retaliation as the last thing you wanted to ruin your mood was Donghyuck’s super helpful (read: useless) input. As if he was any better. You couldn’t count the number of times he found himself in ‘sticky’ situations that even the most promiscuous of people would cover their mouths, scandalized at the many many recounts of (questionable) conquests of getting his dick wet as many times as he could.

(That’s not to say you were completely innocent. Your sexual appetite was at a healthy mid to high. Donghyuck was just shameless. You, on the other hand, were not).

The wounded noise from Donghyuck went ignored as you stood up, stretched your arms up high and headed to the kitchen to get something into your empty stomach.

Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face and hungover was one thing.

Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face, hungover and in a bed that wasn’t your own in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were obviously not yours, was another and a punishment specifically made for you—your own personal hell. A thing to note was the sweatpants were from a brand that you haven’t even heard of. Ever. Either this guy’s a fashion snob, or he’s filthy fucking rich, though something in you persisted that he was probably the latter.

No. Scratch that. It’s a hundred percent the latter.

You’ve been here before. Sober during those very few times, to be frank, and you desperately wished that you didn’t know who lived in this pretentiously decorated bachelor’s pad.

You thought waking up in a stranger’s bed was bad? Try waking up in your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s bed with no recollection of what happened last night. Trying to remember was proven useless when the memories were all but blurry, flashing images you couldn’t for the life of you sharpen with the power of your mind—that was still recovering from the hangover—alone.

It really wasn’t the best morning. It was arguably one of the worst.

Seeing one of his cats perched on top of the highest point of the cat tower in the far corner of the bedroom was already a bad omen in and of itself, slanted eyes locked on your every move and she (you had a faint idea that this was one of his girls) even followed you to the bathroom! Which, okay, wasn’t that awful considering she hadn’t meowed or hissed at you in warning (yet).

All the cat did was hop onto the marble counter of Jaemin’s bathroom, sat back primly and watched you get rid of the accumulated grime on your face before going crazy with the array of skincare the man had out in the open. It was really his fault for leaving you unattended.

Speaking of Jaemin, he was nowhere to be found.

There were no signs of him even as you padded into the wide expanse of the living area. No signs of life in the kitchen either aside from the two other cats Jaemin had in his care and strangely enough, they too didn’t seem to be alarmed by your presence. You’ve only been here a few times with your then boyfriend, Jeno. Played with them a little too. Maybe the cats had sharper memories than you gave them credit for.

All of that aside, Jaemin’s absence was a huge relief on your part. Being drunk five margaritas in around him was embarrassing though still salvageable by a brief but genuine apology. Conversing with him was rare, sure, but the few conversations with him were adequate for you to lump him with one of the good ones.

Yet.

Yet.

This—being in your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s fucking apartment of all places—felt like there was more to what you initially thought could have happened that made you stay the night.

It’s been so long since you’ve last seen your ex, much less Jaemin, as he wasn’t exactly one to go out as often, but your alcohol-addled brain had momentarily lost its grasp on the supposed built-in survival instinct that you let yourself get whisked away by him. 

Possibly let him have his way with you (in your drunken haze) as you thought back to the mild soreness in between your legs.

Whatever the possibilities were, you had no luxury to narrow them down right now. Not when you had bigger problems.

You had to get out of here. Fast.

“Holy shit.”

Was what you heard the very second the grilled cheese and bacon sandwich you planned on sharing was placed on the plate.

At first, you didn’t think much of Donghyuck’s exclamation. Dramatics were his thing and you were used to being subjected to them so often that you barely blinked when Donghyuck followed it up with a sharp gasp. You were just about to write it off as ‘none of your business’—unlike Donghyuck who made sure to make his business everyone else’s—when what he said next made you pause.

“Y/N, you have got to see this.”

Now adding you to the mix got your attention. Picking up the urgent yet intrigued intonation from Donghyuck’s demand was enough to put brunch on the back burner as you rushed back to the small living area. The TV was put on mute. It was the first detail you noticed before pinning your gaze onto your best friend still on the couch and you immediately knew something was wrong with the way his shoulders almost touched his ears from sitting too stiffly.

Donghyuck had your phone in his hand when you sat down beside him which wasn't exactly new to you. He somehow figured out your pass-code (“it was your birth date,” Donghyuck clarified. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. What do you have against Face ID anyway?”) and you couldn’t find the energy to change it. It wasn't like you had anything to hide. You lived a pretty uneventful life, completely juxtaposing with whatever he had going on at his end, so you didn’t really mind the nosiness.

One look at his face, however, made you reconsider the leniency towards your privacy.

Donghyuck had this innate talent of pissing off people by his many facial expressions alone. He looked like the cat that ate the canary; probably planning on swallowing it down with cream to egg you on further and you just know whatever he had to say—or show in this case—was bound to raise your blood pressure to new heights.

“What,” it was meant to be a question, and the annoyance that managed to creep into the mono-syllable was amusing enough to Donghyuck that the annoying grin grew into almost splitting his face in half.

You rolled your eyes so hard that you wondered why you weren’t stuck staring at your brain from how often you did this at his expense. “Seriously, what?”

Donghyuck silently handed your phone over, still looking like the devil’s incarnate that it was almost an eerie resemblance, yet you still humored him.

You soon found that there was no humor in this situation.

All the budding annoyance had come to a screeching halt the moment your phone found its rightful home in your grasp.

From your abysmal screen-time, you should be used to its lightness, yet the device felt heavier than it should. It was like having the weight of the world in your palms and what’s worse, you could feel your blood running cold in real time as you peered down at the small screen leering right back at you, taunting you.

What greeted you was the opened camera roll that somehow accumulated pictures upon pictures of you stripped down to your most promiscuous state of undress. The sight was daunting to say the least that some crazed part of you thought your phone had become sentient; goading you with each flick of your thumb to scroll through them, further stripping you of your modesty. As if it was a digital flip book of yourself, illustrating you and one of you rare conquests of hunting down warm body to fuck around with.

The sheer amount of them was almost laughable, just imagining the person on the other side of the lens doing their absolute damnedest in making sure no small detail was out of place; that you came out debauched, yet still gorgeous enough to overlook the depravity of their nature.

You weren’t sure if this could be compared to nudes. Not when there were some traces of artistry behind each photo that if you were less than sane, you would have your thanks at the ready for making the vision—whatever it was—come alive with an iPhone camera.

There was a joke begging to be voiced out somewhere. A joke your best friend would immensely appreciate knowing it was centered around you and your bad decisions, however, that thought was quickly forgotten when something else caught your eye.

A video. Videos, you’ve come to find out as you scrolled further. Almost never ending with the amount that it was overwhelming compared to that of the photos lacking depth and movement.

The state of the thumbnails didn’t help ease the heavy feeling in your gut either.

Each and every single one of them could very well belong on the number of porn platforms you were vaguely aware of. They left nothing to the imagination where you could just tell what obscenities you—namely drunk you—were up to despite having no recollection of this ever happening. Just how much alcohol did you let in your system that you blacked out the entire night? This was one of the many mysteries that will continue to haunt you unless you get some clarity soon.

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t the least bit curious of your own drunken thought process (you were still processing what you were seeing, actually) and it was obvious your best friend was just as curious, impatiently so that he snatched your phone back, chose one form the myriad of video clips and pressed play, all under a second or two.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Donghyuck earned an elbow to his side for his haste, but all he did was shush you and moved the phone closer for a better view. As if an almost seven-inch screen could grant a cinematic experience, but you’ll take what you could get.

“There you go.”

And there you go, body locking up the moment the awfully familiar, deep and roughened voice came out of the phone’s speakers.

A simple sentence spoken with a cadence so sluggish that you had to fight hard to remind yourself that he didn’t always sound like he was forcing you to unravel with his words alone. Jaemin just had this peculiar habit of putting half the effort into enunciating his words almost to the point where he sounded lazy and you assumed it was the alcohol that made this habit of his more pronounced than ever.

The alcohol turned him into someone, hell, some otherworldly being that the more you heard him speak, the likelihood of a blood vessel popping due to how wound up you’ve progressively become was at a high. It was downright ridiculous how instantaneous the effect was, and what followed would soon have you internally begging to be smite by God himself.

“It took you three tries to swallow me down without gagging.” Though you couldn’t see him, there was, no doubt, a smile on his face, listening to his delivery alone. All sharp and condescending that you couldn’t help but wince at the immediate reboot of your brain where you could vividly imagine the scrape of his teeth along your throat—specifically the places bruised with the indents; marks of his canines being the most prominent.

At least you got to confirm just who the ‘wild animal’ was behind the damage to your neck, yet you still couldn’t map the exact thought process justifying Jaemin’s carelessness.

“You’re that eager to please, aren’t you?”

Jaemin sounded like he was demanding an immediate answer, but there was just one problem.

He wasn’t going to get anything from you. How can he when his cock restricted you from talking? The most he was going to get was a series of garbled noises, just like the wet squelches from fucking into your mouth.

“Of course you are. I can see why Jeno kept you around for as long as he could.” Jaemin chuckled, moving his hand from where it previously rested on top of your head to cup your jaw. “Feeling full, huh?” and you could hear how smug he was, laughing quietly when all you could do was whine when his fingers tightened their grip on your bulging cheeks, no doubt wanting the wet heat of your mouth to squeeze around his dick tighter, or feel how imposing his size was for the sake of his ego.

“I could barely fit in your mouth a moment ago,” the groan he let out was deep from within his chest, guttural as if he was fighting to keep himself controlled while bullying himself deeper into your willing (?) throat until you gagged around his girth, shaky hands scrambling to find purchase on his thighs as if to keep yourself grounded. “Now here you are, taking it like it’s nothing. Like you were made for this. All you needed was a little push, didn’t you, baby?”

It took real talent to come off as an asshole through voice alone, and Jaemin was nothing short of talented. He really did fit the narrative. It’s always the ones with the (admittedly) pretty faces that have something to hide under the false pretense of pleasantry, and it just so happened that the ‘thing’ Jaemin wanted to keep under wraps was how much of a scheming freak he actually was.

Back then, you were just part of the majority who was ignorant to what lies underneath. Now here you are, experiencing Jaemin’s depraved fantasies first hand.

You should have known. The signs were quite literally there with the way he looked at you all night before you were consumed by the effects of alcohol. Even in the sea of people crowding the club, you‘ve managed to catch the intensity swirling in the darkness of his eyes stuck on you no matter where you ended up.

Jaemin was there. In the corners. In the shadows. Jaemin was everywhere. Watching and waiting to strike.

That thought alone should have been enough to unsettle you right to your very core, yet all it did was raise questions. Tons of them, considering this had been going on before you even got together with your then boyfriend, Jeno. You had thought that perhaps Jaemin had harbored some type of protectiveness over you seeing you got to know him first, but your prior naivety didn’t let you think much on it further. Not when you were swept up by the sweeter than sweet smiles and soon entranced by a pair of eyes that put the winking moon to shame.

Nevertheless Jaemin still kept a watchful eye, bid his time carefully and now that his best friend was out of the picture, perhaps it was the perfect time to strike.

And that he did, leaving the photos and videos behind in his wake.

“Jaemin?” Donghyuck hissed, completely ignoring the obscene noises blasting from your phone on full volume because apparently he wasn’t immersed enough with it half-way up. Where your apartment provided decent acoustics to amplify the sound. “Jaemin Na? Your ex's best friend? That Jaemin?”

You held your face in shame and groaned, trying to make it seem like you weren’t the least bit affected by Jaemin’s own mix of pleasured sounds going hand-in-hand with your muffled desperation. “Say ‘Jaemin’ one more time and I’ll punch you in the throat.” Your face was hot to the touch and you didn’t want to know just what you looked like to Donghyuck.

The memory of last night was faint, yes, but it did overwhelm you all the same to the point where you were starting to tear up from sheer embarrassment.

Donghyuck, ever so keen, caught the sign of distress and composed himself. “You were with Jaemin last night?” He asked, whispering.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you answered, sarcasm weighing heavily on each syllable as you aimed your grimace towards the video still playing (seriously, how long was it?). “Is that just my face deep-faked onto some poor random girl? You tell me.”

His pleased expression twisted at the snark, lips parting to refute you with the same vitriol until a rather loud, impossibly hard to ignore moan tore through the impending tension.

Both of you looked down just in time for Jaemin to pull out of your abused mouth with a wet, disgusting sound and lord, not only did he have an impressive size, his dick was pretty too. Pretty in a way it shouldn’t be, but it’s like Jaemin was solely born to go against what one should expect in men and their anatomy, which wasn’t much to begin with, let’s be real. Guess the universe did have its favorites and what misfortune it was that it had to be you stuck with one of them. Literally.

It was like a sick punishment pushed onto you, being faced with the harsh truth of Jaemin having his reasons backed up and giving him free reign to act and talk like he was the shit. His hands were just as big as everything about him from his stature to his personality. Made it seem like his cock was nothing to gawk at until you—you in the video—shuffled closer, having it stand ramrod straight right in front of your face.

As if the Jaemin in the video heard you, he laughed as he brought the camera closer to his cock and your face in tandem. You could tell he was getting close, the labored breaths and jostling of the footage were obvious signs amidst the borderline frantic strokes.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he grunted, tapping your puffy lips with his cockhead. “and stick your tongue out for me, will you—yeah. That’s good. Perfect. You’re perfect—fuck!” 

Thick ropes of pearly white painted your face as Jaemin let out a loud, drawn-out moan, forcing more out with rough strokes and most of it shooting into your awaiting mouth. You kept your eyes open for the entirety of it in spite of the obscene amount of cum dripping from your cheeks, nose and even an eyebrow. In fact, there was so much of it that even Donghyuck voiced his own astonishment right when you swallowed, only to pry your lips open once more and leave Jaemin to milk himself until the very last drop, not letting any of it go to waste.

It seemed you did good with the forethought, Jaemin making his appreciation known with a soft coo as if he wasn’t spouting filth while you were literally gagging for it.

God, you looked absolutely destroyed.

And eerily enough, sex-tape!Jaemin finished off the thought with a breathy, “you’ve never looked better.”

Inky tear-tracks of your mascara marred what was once the smoothed canvas of your face. You took much care in making sure your makeup was almost flawless and it was a shame that Jaemin thought the complete opposite and decided that smearing your lipstick along your mouth with a gross mix of your spit, tears and his cum was much more entertaining—as if this was all just a sick game to him; a game of how long would it take to strip you off of your dignity by making a mess out of you. Twice.

“Fuck. You look…” Jaemin trailed off as he held you by the jaw, damp skin easily caving underneath his fingertips to keep you in place and took his time to admire his masterpiece. It was deceptively tender, the way he went about tilting your head from side-to-side that just as you thought this was where the humiliation ended, realizing the extent of what you had done last night, the debauched version of you decided to speak.

“How—how do I look?” You slurred. Round, glazed up eyes peering up in earnest and that was all it took for Jaemin to let your phone tumble from his grasp in favor of hauling you up. The footage was all sorts of skewed, but by some odd law of physics involved, it made sure to show how Jaemin went in for a kiss that was all sorts of messy and heated, not minding the fact that he could taste himself with every push of your tongue against his.

He pulled back just for a moment, letting out a breathy chuckle and the last thing you heard before the video saw its end was a hoarse, “beautiful. Gorgeous. Unreal. Mine,” before it stopped and jumped back to show its thumbnail.

You let the both of you marinate in the silence that followed afterwards, with you gathering your wits as your worst half gently placed your phone down onto the coffee table.

“Oh my god.” you settled on saying, completely mortified.

“Oh my god.” Donghyuck repeated, sounding all too gleeful.

It almost looked like Donghyuck was impressed with what happened in the past five minutes when you slowly turned to face each other. “Wow,” he drawled, immediately raising your hackles at the god-awful sight of his self-righteous smirk. “and I thought I was the slut between us two.”

“Oh, you still are,” you bit back, not letting him get the upper-hand. “Three people in one night? I’m surprised your dick’s still attached to you.” or that he didn’t contract an STD for that matter, but small miracles could be given to anyone, you supposed. Even to a menace.

“You know what they say, the ‘s’ in slut stands for ‘safe’!”

“Literally no one has said that.”

“I literally just did.”

You dead-panned. “Get out.”

“You’re so boring,” he whined, getting up to head to the kitchen to probably gobble up the grilled sandwich you had made. “Well,” the muffled continuation said just as much. “maybe not since you fucked your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Who would have thought you’d let Jaemin hit?”

You whirled around to glower at him, half for eating what was yours and half at his disguised jeering. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Y/N, I’m a dude,” he said slowly, like you were stupid. Maybe you were. “We can tell when a guy is interested.”

“You think Jaemin’s into me?”

Donghyuck’s initial reaction was to arch an eyebrow as he paused mid-chew, again, as if he could not believe you were this slow on the up-take. It was starting to piss you off, honestly, that he knew something you didn’t and was just waiting for you to piece everything together.

“You couldn’t tell?” He only gets an unimpressed stare to get on with it which he shrugged at. “Nevermind, you were too busy making googoo eyes at Jeno to pay attention. That worked at least, ‘cause soon enough, you were hanging off of his arm.”

You huffed, conceding with a roll of your eyes. “Fine. You got me there.”

Donghyuck scoffed, “‘course I do. Seriously though, we thought that you’d end up with Jaemin. He’s usually straight-forward with things like this, but since Jeno was there… well, y’know, bro-code or whatever the fuck.” He took a generous bite from the sandwich before placing it back down on the plate and dusting his hands from the crumbs. “Thing is though, he never really stopped looking at you? I’m sure you know how shameless he is with staring.”

Knew? You’ve caught him staring a handful times in the past and his shamelessness knew no bounds either. Not once did Jaemin appear remotely embarrassed meeting your eyes as he would smile each time, hold the eye contact for longer than what you would deem appropriate before moving his eyes elsewhere, and you knew that in no time, his gaze would be burning holes into your back again.

You’ve grown used to it anyway. It was strange, yes, but Jaemin never really did anything beyond what could make you uncomfortable. Even Jeno laughed it off when it was casually brought up during your past conversations, not really bothered by his best friend’s odd quirk.

“I can’t blame him,” you remembered him saying. “You’re really beautiful. I’d probably consider looking at you as one of my favorite past-times.” and safe to say, you did appreciate the comment, and Jeno definitely appreciated the soul-sucking blowjob you gave him if the strings of praises tangled with the ‘I love you’s’ were anything to go by.

None of that was relayed to Donghyuck though. Your knowledge on the matter wasn’t his business, nor did you think it was that of a big deal. So what if your ex-boyfriend’s best friend liked to keep his eyes on you? That didn’t mean anything. Just like what happened last night didn’t mean anything. It didn't have to mean anything.

It was a one-time thing and you were certain that it’ll take the Earth’s revolution around the sun to see him again. Perhaps never, if you played your cards right.

And watching your own sex-tape (accidental, or not) with Donghyuck won’t happen ever again when you made the mistake of trailing your eyes downwards.

You were very far from impressed, scowling at him. “I can see your dick through your pants, Hyuck. You’re gross.”

He at least had the decency to appear sheepish from you pointing out his body’s reaction. “Oh don’t like you weren’t the least bit turned on from that too.”

You flipped him off with both hands, face burning. 

Donghyuck cackled and then waved you over to finish half of the sandwich.

Clearly, there was something in you that refused to see the bigger picture.

You couldn’t help it. You weren’t exactly one to get swept up in the assumptions made by you or the other people in your life that had their rare times of indulging the delusions that came hand-in-hand with them. And that’s all they were. Harmless assumptions and delusions that would be forgotten by the end of the day. Sooner, if you could help it.

So why were you sitting in the middle of your bed, obsessively scrolling through the videos taken from last night?

Perhaps you could blame it all on the insatiable curiosity that never really left even as Donghyuck said his farewell an hour or so ago.

Jaemin’s motive for filming last night’s drunken rendezvous was still—is still—no doubt, a mystery. Starting from why did he use your phone? It would have made much more sense if he used his. There was the possibility that it might have been his phone and had the forethought of airdropping everything to you for reasons unknown, but with a quick check of the details, nope. It was yours. Jaemin’s phone model was the newest one on the market, while yours was at least two years due for an upgrade, pretty much debunking your theory.

Which landed you in this position, looking through your camera roll for any hints that could shed light on his possible motives. Anyone who would find themselves in this dilemma had every reason to be angry. It was normal to feel outraged going through what you did last night and you could only pray to whatever higher being was up there that no one else knew what went on and if Jaemin had his own duplicates.

But—well. Anger was far from what fueled all this. Confusion more like and it only grew when you skimmed through the videos until one caught your eye.

This time, it was you holding the phone, your grasp being significantly shakier, but Jaemin didn’t mind. Not when he was rather preoccupied with his head stuck in between your quivering thighs, eating you out to his heart’s content. No, really. It was like he made it his life’s mission to give you the best head of your life with the way you were letting out a cacophony of pleasured sounds to which Jaemin looked particularly proud off, evident with the way he was leering at you through the screen.

Jaemin had always come off as intimidating with his looks alone; a soft but angular face with strong eyebrows framing the dark pits of his eyes and a smile full of perfect white teeth so wicked it could even put the devil to shame if he tried harder. It was common to be put-off by his intensity at first. He had always sought out to give off a strong impression, but it wouldn’t be long before he opened up, gracing everyone with the sweet side of him.

And sweet he was, with the way he was looking at you with the mess of saliva and your wetness coating his lips and chin. Even the tip of nose was dripping of it, yet you thought he was absolutely breathtaking that the dazzling smile did nothing but make him so much more.

They say that eyes are the window to the soul. That you can guess what was going through someone’s head if you dare peer into them longer. It was purely for the sake of uncovering answers on your part, but you weren’t sure if that was what you were searching for anymore.

He was doing unspeakable things to you, yes. That much was apparent with his mindless slurping and the pleased moans reverberating when you so much as tugged at his hair, or squeezed his head with your thighs. It’s like he was getting off from you getting off and it was all sorts of filthy when a dollop of his spit caught onto your clit just for the sake of it.

But his eyes were telling the complete opposite of his ministrations. Dark as they were, they held something soft in them. Gentle. Tender—dare you say it, enamored. Completely taken by how you were blatantly using him, rutting against that sinful tongue while simultaneously fucking yourself onto his thick fingers as he did the absolute most to match the desperate pace you were setting to chase your release.

The soft spoken praises fell so easily from his mouth. Slickened lips covering your inner thighs with kisses and gentle, teasing nips as he spoke sweet-nothings that were no less still filthy, yet his eyes still remained the same. Darkened even more with his blown out pupils, but the softness remained swimming in those endless pits of coffee brown sweeter than its bitter aftertaste; warm when Jaemin graced you with a lipped smile.

Even as Jaemin had you face down and ass up, the warm glow in his gaze stayed. Hips slammed into you with reckless abandon that with each push, you hiked higher and higher up his sheets that you had to hold onto his headboard to keep yourself in place. You assumed the phone was placed somewhere on his end table for the clear view, or else you wouldn’t be able to see the warmth light up his face too.

It’s truly a wonder how you were able to witness how easy his emotions took over his features. More so when he took it upon himself to manhandle you on your back, then did you see how easily Jaemin shed that hardass exterior of his.

That didn’t mean he had let up though, oh no. He was still rough with his treatment as you watched his hand come down onto your thigh with a loud smack before pushing at the back of your knees and until your thighs were pressed against your chest to fuck you deeper, harder, now that he raised one leg to get more leverage.

Jaemin graced you with a cruel smirk when you cried out from a pointed jerk of his hips. “Imagine how fucking pissed I was when Jeno snatched you up before I did.” That was news to you and it was more shocking that the man admitted it himself just as you were about to piece things together. “I saw you first. I befriended you first—fuck, I thought I made it obvious that I wanted you.” You could only let out a helpless mewl when he slowed down to scowl at you. “We’re friends, right?”

When you didn’t answer right away, a hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “Answer me, sweetheart. While I’m still nice enough to give you what you want.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, holding onto his wrist and you were exactly sure if drunk you wanted to keep it there or not. “We’re friends.”

Jaemin smiled something mean, “then how come I was the last to know that you chose Jeno over me?”

“I didn’t know—“

“You didn’t know? I’ve—” he cuts himself off with an incredulous laugh. “Right, how silly of me. You were too busy giving Jeno your attention.” Jaemin leaned in closer. “Maybe I should send this to him,” he mused, gesturing towards the phone with his head. “How’s that sound?” And humiliate yourself even further? You would rather die a painless death.

“No! Please no!” You could see yourself struggle, yet Jaemin with his sheer size and strength had no problem in keeping you pinned down.

“Why not? It’s not like you’re together or anything. Will it be that humiliating for you? There’s no reason to be, not when you're this gorgeous. Nothing wrong with being a slut either.”

“I’m—I’m not.”

“Oh yes you are, baby. You let me fuck you, didn’t you? Your ex’s best friend? Showing him all this could make him realize why he wasn’t able to keep you. Jeno didn’t know what you wanted. He didn’t know what you needed either. Me? I could give you both and more.” He sounded so sure about it. Looked sure about it too as he picked up the pace and settled on a brutal rhythm, punching more moans out of you. “All you have to do is just ask for it.”

“You’re fuh—fu—cking crazy,” was all you could say. It seemed you were starting to get light headed with how Jaemin still had a tight grip around your neck. Like a necklace choker that won't ever come off.

“I know I am, sweetheart, but don’t worry. I wasn't being serious. I’d kill anyone who sees you like this,” It was a threat and a promise all molded into one and hearing that strangely made your heart skip a beat. His face was drawn into something serious and darkened when he said, “Jeno included. He had his chance and he fucked all that to hell, but me? I’m not making the same mistake.”

The footage kept on rolling after Jaemin spilled into the condom, just a few seconds after you knocked out-cold from what seemed to be the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had—not that you could remember—in your life. Kept on rolling as he kissed your forehead before getting up to cleanup in the en suite. And rolled, and rolled, and rolled.

You were fully convinced that your one-night stand completely forgot the existence of your phone recording the post-sex ritual happening right before your eyes. It was kind of funny though, like watching a risqué vlog illustrating the proper etiquette when it came to aftercare.

Jaemin did just that, with the same balmy look in his eyes and the inherent tenderness in his actions as he took care of you even in your slumbering state.

He could have done better with dressing you up though, but you could understand that the exhaustion probably crept up at him when he didn’t even question the sweatpants he swiped up from the laundry hamper. Still, he tucked you in and gently kissed your cheek before shuffling over and picking up your phone, only to switch to the front camera, smile and blow a kiss.

With a huff, you fell back onto your bed, ruminating what Jaemin left behind and burning in shame and something else that you wouldn’t want to acknowledge.

It was some sort of confession, wasn’t it? Unconventional definitely, but the idea was there, glaring at you in minute-long clips and you couldn’t really think of your next move. Jaemin was still an enigma for sure and calling him didn’t sound like a good idea. At least at the moment it didn’t. You really had no clue if you should simply wait for him to reach out himself, but that's besides the point.

What you did know was that some part of you thought it was a shame that last night’s memory was still quite the blur. You couldn’t recall how Jaemin made you feel with his touch and you weren’t sure if gratitude should be even considered for him leaving you of last night’s evidence.

This was all too much. Jaemin was too much and you couldn’t think much now when you have plans coming up soon.

And if you came on your fingers twice from simply looking at the unmistaken adoration lifting Jaemin’s face as he had his way with you, then that was between you and God alone.

“Couldn’t we do this some other time?”

Donghyuck clicked his tongue as he pulled out a chair for you. “You know how Giselle is and to be fair, she’s been begging for us to meet up. She mentioned she’s bringing someone with her too.”

“That’s fine.” Probably one of your acquaintances. “But she couldn’t choose another day where I don’t feel and look like shit?”

“Relax. No one in here knows that you’ve been fucked six ways ‘til Sunday last night.”

He said it like he was talking about the weather, all the while scanning the menu nonchalantly as you prayed that no one else heard him. Donghyuck was right though. You did make sure to hide all evidence (mainly the marks on your neck), and the slight limp in your steps and it was such a relief on your part that you haven’t received any odd looks as of yet. If you were to get some concerning looks, it would be because of how fidgety you were. As if you were just waiting for Jaemin to come out and strike. Ugh, perhaps your body did remember some of last night.

“You’re fine, Y/N,” Donghyuck reassured, patting your thigh gently. “What are you gonna get? I’m thinking of steak. We could share each other’s food or something too.”

“Yeah, sounds nice—“

“Y/N! Girl, it’s been so long!”

Both you and Donghyuck looked up just in time to see Giselle quickly making her way over to where you both sat with a dazzling smile.

“Gigi, hi!”

The man beside you rolled his eyes as you rose up and kissed Giselle on the cheek, “I’m here too, y’know.”

She laughed and sat on the seat right across from him. “Yes, yes, hello to you too, Hyuck.” Giselle looked as if she came alone, noticing that no one was trailing behind her.

“I thought you were with someone?” you asked, handing over the menu to her.

She thanked you with a quick smile and got to scanning it. “He’s still parking his car. He insisted I go in first.”

He?

“He?” trust your best friend to voice out exactly what you were thinking. “Who’s he?” You couldn’t remember the last time she brought someone for you to meet. Usually, this was her way of checking whether the person would be worth her time. As all close friends would do. You did the same with Jeno and what a shame you guys didn’t even last that long.

“Some guy I met recently,” Giselle hummed. “He’s nice, I promise.”

The conversation flowed smoothly after that and you decided to order for everybody after Giselle mentioned that her ‘friend’ would most likely get the same thing as Donghyuck. You really couldn’t follow along much—still reeling from everything, really—but it seemed to be a heated discussion from how worked up Donghyuck was slowly becoming at each of Giselle’s rebuttals.

Your attention moved to your phone at that point, looking through your socials while simultaneously reading through the work emails you might have missed.

“Took you long enough, Jaemin.”

You froze.

Jaemin?

From that second, you concluded that you were just hearing things. Maybe you misheard Giselle and that it was some guy that had a similar sounding name to him. He wasn’t the only guy with a given name starting with ‘Jae’, right? Jaemin wasn’t the only Jaemin in the world either.

However, the universe might as well bring your nightmares to life because looking up from your phone, the same Jaemin Na was there. Sitting across from you a polite tilt of his lips.

Though as he looked down, taking a gander at your phone with shining eyes before meeting your gaze head on, the smile grew sharper, sinister and you dread whatever was coming next.

“Guys, this is Jaemin. Jaemin, Donghyuck and Y/N.”

“Oh, we’ve met.” Jaemin leaned forward, resting his cheek on his palm while you swallowed thickly. “It’s nice to see you again, sweetheart.”

“Well,” Donghyuck started, breaking the silence. “It could have gone worse.”

“What’s worse than meeting your one-night stand the very next day?”

“Jaemin telling everyone that he slept with you?”

“You’re useless, actually,” you dead-panned, plopping heavily onto your couch. “Seriously, that was probably the most embarrassing dinner ever. Poor Giselle probably thought that I didn’t want to see her.” Your hands flew to your face to hide, moaning in despair.

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely the worst situation you’ve been in. At least Jaemin was cordial enough to act normal aside from the fact that he still tried to burn holes into your profile when you focused on either Donghyuck or Giselle as you talked over the food. Jaemin didn’t say much either, and spoke when spoken to, yet his presence was so domineering that even pretending that he didn't exist was rather difficult that you just settled on acknowledging him out of politeness.

Never mind the fact that he looked like he wanted to eat you up and swallow you whole right then and there. Then again, that’s how he looked most of the time so it brought comfort that there was a fifty-fifty chance that you were wrong.

Donghyuck gave you a sympathetic pat on the head, “don’t worry about it. You can say sorry to her and she’ll be fine, and it’s not like you’ll be seeing Jaemin any time soon.”

At that moment, your phone chimed and with the whole dinner fiasco, you immediately assumed it was probably Giselle checking up on you. You did act a little weird for everyone’s tastes and you were kind of waiting for her to bring it up so you could explain yourself and express your deepest apologies for acting out-of-character.

See, it wasn't Giselle and you cursed Donghyuck in your head for jinxing it.

Donghyuck took one good look at your face, the corner of his lips tilting downwards in concern. “What'd Giselle say?” 

You shook your head and handed it over to him.

“Oh my god.”

Jaemin Na

hey

can i come over?

:)

Shit.

note: this is dedicated to Aria for being just as insane as me when it comes to Jaemin 🫡

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @celeste-hoon @en-myworld

[ageofstarkey]

Hi! Could you write a Mattheo one, where it’s that time of the month, and you’re just really not feeling like facing the world.

poor thing ✰ m. riddle

summary: you’re on your period, and matthéo’s there to help you feel less awful.

pairing: bf!matthéo x reader

warnings: reader is implied to be afab, mentions of reader having their period, discussion of period-related symptoms, nothing else really???

note: hello!! thank you so much for the request!! i’m still trying to find my groove with writing, but i hope i did your prompt some justice :’) also pretend that boys can in fact enter the girls dorms in this universe lmfao

masterlist

comments & reblogs are so appreciated!

✰ ✰ ✰

“aren’t you getting up for potions?”

when you roll over, you see pansy watching you from the doorway. she’s dressed and ready for the day - book bag slung carefully across her body. she studies you with something akin to concern; awaiting your response with perfect, furrowed brows.

with a quiet sigh, you push yourself into a half-sitting position. “i don’t think so. i got my period last night and i feel absolutely horrid.”

“want me to tell riddle? i’m sure he’s looking for an excuse to skip anyway”

you roll your eyes fondly. “he’s already missed too many lessons this year - let him figure it out on his own time, yeah?”

pansy shrugs. “fine. hope you feel better.”

you groan, flopping none-too-gracefully back on your pillow. “me too.”

when pansy leaves, you take a few moments to savour the silence. it does little to ease the uncomfortable ache in your abdomen, but it’s quiet enough that you can almost pretend your head hasn’t been throbbing since the second you opened your eyes.

eventually, you snuggle back under your thick quilt, resigned to sleeping away your misery. it doesn’t take long for your fatigue to take over, pushing you steadily towards the edge of unconsciousness.

you’re nearly asleep, when you hear a sharp knock at the dormitory door. your brows tug downwards in confusion. with a quiet groan, you drag yourself out of bed. the floors are shockingly cold against your bare feet, and you curse quietly under your breath as you approach the door.

when you tug it open, you’re pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriends handsome face. although he should be in class, you can hardly fight the grin that tugs at your lips. “you are not supposed to be here.”

matthéo quirks an eyebrow, sporting a smirk you know all too well. “shall i see myself out then?”

you roll your eyes fondly. “no.”

“didn’t think so.” he lets himself in, kicking the door shut behind him. “do you wanna lay down?”

“merlin - more than anything.”

he tugs you gently towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss. “i figured as much.” he murmurs the words against your skin, punctuating them with another kiss. when he pulls away, he nudges you gently towards the bed. “how are you feeling?”

“awful.”

“cramps?” he shrugs off a few layers of clothing, before tugging back your quilt and laying on the bed.

with a gentle little tug, you’re falling into the empty space beside him. “my entire body just… aches.” with a defeated sigh, you drop your head on his chest.

matthéo hums softly, stroking a gentle hand up and down the length of your spine. “poor thing.”

“tell me about it.”

with a quiet little laugh, he tilts your head up towards his own. “do you think you’ll survive?”

“i really might not, théo. this might be it for me.”

matthéo rolls his eyes, but he wears a fond little smile that gives him away. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i am not!” your lips turn downwards in an involuntary pout. “it hurts.”

“i know, sweetheart.” he closes the small gap between you, kissing away your feeble little frown. “why don’t you try and get some rest, hm?”

“you’ll stay?”

he kisses you again - longer this time, and you swear you’re feeling better already. “‘m not going anywhere.”

[justpeaxchy]

'So My Darling'

A/n: I haven't finished my other wip's yet, so in the meantime, I decided to write this rq. Enjoy! 🐢

Warnings(?): none!

Hiccup x !fem reader!

-You realize the feelings you have for Hiccup aren't what a normal 'best friend' should have.

The day was coming to a close, the sun delicately edging the clouds in an orange tint, with a faint pink glow making itself visible amongst the remaining bright colors. You loved sunsets, to say the least; the sight brought a small sense of comfort to your mind whenever endless thoughts seemed to pour in, which was partly happening to you already.

There wasn't much of an opportunity for him to go far anymore, but your search for the past twenty minutes could've attested otherwise. Thinking you had used up all of your chances for finding him, your hopes were quickly revived as you finally spotted him a bit of a distance away, sitting comfortably on the edge of a nearby cliff side. You heaved a light sigh of relief, signaling for your dragon to land on the same area.

The very second your feet touched the ground, you spoke loud enough for him to hear: "And what do you think you're up to, Chief?" You suppressed a grin when his head turned to get a better view of your approaching form, a ghost of a smile tugging on his own lips.

"Oh, nothing.." Hiccup shrugged, "Just thought I should try a new...hideout. I'll give it to you, though, you found me in the same day I came here..!" An amused glint sparkled in his eyes, emerald iris's following you as you went to sit down next to him with a dramatic sigh. Toothless was off playing with your dragon as soon as you both arrived, the tree branch they suddenly found being the very thing that kept them entertained as they were engrossed in tug of war.

"Yeah...I think twenty minutes is a bit too long for me to discover your hideout.." You muttered, Hiccup still being able to hear every word you said above the passing breeze.

"Well, it's nice to know I'm on your mind that much." He said, sarcasm practically dripping off his voice. His words would be something he regretted, however, when you abruptly jabbed his side with your finger from where you sat. "Okay, okay, I take it back!" He raised his hands in surrender as you silently threatened to do it again, nodding in satisfaction when he admitted defeat.

"What a shame...you keep talking like that and you might be here all by yourself again.." You examined your nails as they suddenly became of more 'importance', using all the strength you had left in you not to smirk at the dramatic gasp Hiccup did.

"Oh, so it's like that now?" He straightened his posture from where he sat, his gaze not yet removing itself from you.

"Hey, you started it with your sassy attitude the moment I came up here." You shrugged.

Deciding to return the same jab you did, although it was much lighter than yours probably was, the Chief poked your shoulder, "Me? Sassy? You're the one who's been staring at your hands this whole time and not even looking at me once."

No longer hiding the playful smile that traced your lips, you spoke in a nonchalant manner: "Correction; it was my nails. Not my hand...sort of."

Hiccup faintly rolled his eyes, still pointedly keeping his fixed gaze on you, who was still not returning it. "Will you at least look at me, then..?" His voice was slightly softer than before, the action briefly taking you aback. Since you were known to give in easily when it came to him, you sedately started off with a glance in his direction before fully turning towards him.

"It's nice to know you want to look at me that much." You said, ignoring the exiguous warmth that dusted over your face. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to smile when you noticed his own lips pull upward in fulfillment.

"There. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He spoke gently, although a hint of amusement was clearly heard by you when he noticed his own words were repeated.

You, who were so observant of Hiccup. You, who were one of the closest people he claimed to have by his side. People often assumed that the relationship you both had was one of a sibling dynamic; it was starting to rub off on you in the wrong way. Growing up on Berk, your attention would somehow always land back on the skinny teenager who tried to prove himself - over and over again. Despite that, you took it upon yourself to really know him, to know who Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third was. You hadn't expected to get this close with him, though.

If anything, he was the first person you had gotten into a genuine friendship with. There were others your age that you would spend time with, but it was different when Stoick's son came to be around you. You witnessed his bravery, his courage, his selflessness, and his determination when he discovered Toothless. It was always there, but it seemed to be stifled out by the whole village with every attempt he gave to show it. You, however, saw all of those traits - especially when you watched him defend his tribe that always looked down on him. He lost part of his leg because of it.

You were the only other person who knew about Toothless in the beginning, mostly because you found him trying to track the Night Fury when he shot him down, and he had no other choice but to practically beg you to keep the dragon a secret. You were reluctant, not knowing what the outcome might be, but you agreed nonetheless. You became more glad with each passing day that you did; it allowed the opportunity for your friendship to grow, to blossom and sprout into what it was now. However, one burning question still remained in your mind concerning that: what was your guy's relationship?

The immediate answer would be close friends, siblings that aren't blood related, two peas in a pod, everything a friendship should be.

Was that what you wanted?

You witnessed his sarcasm, his caring side, his good-natured heart, his tenacity, and certainly his stubbornness. He was complex, more than meets the eye, and yet he was also very simple to read when inspected close enough. He was like his map; there was always something more to look at when it came to him. He expanded on those traits of his as he matured into an adult, carrying the burden of his father as he became the Chief of Berk. He always reminded you that he was thankful to have you with him through it all, and you were as well, but something in you longed to be recognized as more than a best friend.

You didn't understand why, when, or how it started; that feeling which would always pick at the back of your mind. It grew with you as you left your teenage years, leaving you clueless as to what you were going to do for it.

"Actually, it was a bit hard...considering how you were acting." You muttered, sarcasm coating each word.

Hiccup lightly shook his head, briefly rolling his eyes as he shifted more comfortably in his spot next to you. "Okay, okay, enough of both of our attitudes.." He looked out at the sky around him, the mixing colors of orange and pink creating an ethereal sight while he talked lightheartedly. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you come here?"

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you kept a subtle gaze in his direction. "No need to sound so weird about it.." Your hand almost reached out for his, but you forcefully told yourself not to carry out those actions with a faint sigh. "I only wanted to...see what you were doing is all."

Hiccup's attention flickered over to your hands that had now started fidgeting, a gentle wind greeting the two of you from where you sat. "Hm. I can tell something is on your mind, y'know... Are you sure that's it?"

You took a deep breath in, relishing in the weather that seemed to be just right; it wasn't too cold like it usually was, but there was enough warmth to make it pleasant enough to stay outside for a longer period of time. Similarly, you often reminded yourself to be that way towards him; you wouldn't allow yourself to be too close with him in that manner, as the cold was barely noticeable, leaving a clement touch to those encompassed by it. However, there was also the warmth. The warmth that provided the comforting embrace of amiability, a distant affection that was still noticeable from afar. The heat balanced out the frigid air.

Nonetheless, the main question still stood: would he let you in? Would he let you in the unspoken of area in his heart that would've made you more than a best friend? The thought always came with a certain emotion of fear; fear that your friendship will collapse into mere dust if you barely mentioned what you truly felt.

"...Trust me, it's nothing important." You mumble, trying to sound as if nothing were bothering you. What came next was a little unexpected, though.

Hiccup slowly moved closer to your hand, gently setting his own on top of it as he tenderly gazed at you. "I don't think that's entirely what you mean..but I won't force you to say anything..." He paused, glimpsing at his hand as it soothingly held yours. "...Let me know when you're ready, okay?"

The Chief: so full of compassion and empathy; dynamic and firm when he needs to be, one who leads the people with courage. He was staunch, persevering, and everything else a leader needed to be. Oftentimes, he didn't even see that in himself, the very flaw he couldn't seem to get rid of. You wanted to remind him, despite if you already did, that he is those things. He is brave, he is strong, and he will continue to become a great Chief for Berk. In that moment, you earnestly wanted to be the one to tell him that, to be by his side when he thinks he can't do it, and to be the one he could find solace in.

To be recognized as more than a best friend.

"...Yeah, I will. Don't worry.."

Much to your surprise, Hiccup didn't let go of your hand, only giving you a small smile before he started rambling on of all the duties he was now getting used to. He may not have known, but you silently acknowledged that you really did have feelings for him, ones that probably wouldn't be going away for a while.

---------

[junipvelt]

"Centricide the VN" will be coming out sometime next month! (exact date TBD)

stats for the current build v

I would apologize for it taking a year to make but at this point I'm just glad it might be finished during my lifetime.

[kedreeva]

Okay if you haven't yet, and you have Netflix/Paramount+, consider giving "School Spirits" a chance.

It looks like a silly little cheesy teenage ghosts show, I put it on for background noise, and then got totally engrossed in the mystery. It's VERY well written, very well filmed, the mystery was GREAT and the payoff at the end is also great.

One of the things majorly lacking in shows I've recently tried to watch is that they try to do a twist/reveal at the end that comes out of nowhere. They don't want you to guess what they're doing. This show doesn't do that. This show wants you to guess. They give you seven different mysteries and enough clues to guess (most of) what is going on, so that when you get the final puzzle piece to any given mystery, it feels GREAT.

The story premise is this: a teenager in hs wakes up as a ghost in the hs, and doesn't remember how she died, and with the help of the other ghosts, tries to solve the mystery of her own death.

Simple premise. BEAUTIFULLY executed. Not all of the questions that arise get answered, but the main one (what she doesn't remember) gets solved by the end of the season, leaving the "why/how and what comes next" to be carried to the next season. It does a cliffhanger RIGHT. But now I desperately want to see the second season (which I believe has been approved, so it's a matter of waiting).

So pretty please, if you're looking for something to do and a great, engaging lil mystery to watch, consider! School Spirits!!

[thingsmaygetalittlecrazy]

Sweet n spicy Eloise Babbit x Sebastian Sallow doodle 🤤💖

Between rereading Clumsy, starting to reread Before It Felt Like A Sin, and feeling generally feral when I saw this base pose on pinterest a month or two ago, I immediately ran to my drawing app to turn it into Eloise and Seb 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ but I changed pretty much NOTHING from the base pose so I felt guilty for posting it, BUT I think the world (and especially Maddy) deserve more Eloise content....so here is my very humble doodle ❤️❤️❤️❤️🫶🫶🫶🫶

@myokk not only are you an awesome, passionate, talented artist but SUCH bright light and kind soul in this space, it's been such a pleasure interacting and yapping and I hope you know how appreciated your loving, kind presence is on here!!!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[rottenpumpkin13]

An excerpt from a WIP that pretty much sums up what's cooking:

Lazard leaned forward, bracing his hands against his desk. "You are all somehow my most brilliant and my most insufferable operatives. I hate that I need you. I hate that you are valuable. I hate that I can't fire you. But I swear to the goddess within the lifestream—if another farm animal finds its way into this headquarters, I will not hesitate to personally transfer each and every one of you to separate outposts on opposite ends of the continent."

Sephiroth hummed. "That seems inefficient."

Lazard grabbed a stapler. "I WILL THROW THIS AT YOU."

[missescalientee]

How they got separated ...

more information under the cut

The family was out traveling while Rhonda rested at their nearby shelter. Jade and Lief conspired amongst themselves to get John Dory a surprise gift for his upcoming birthday. They journeyed alone to gather the materials to craft said gift and ran into... A problem shall we say.

It's late at night when Lief finally returns to their campsite, alone, a massive gash on his forehead and a strip of cloth from Jade's dress.

When asked exactly what happened Lief can't fully remember due to his injury, all he knows is that Jade is the reason he's still alive now, and he feels fully responsible for her disappearance.

From this point forth John Dory doesn't allow Lief to travel without him for fear that he'd lose his son like they'd lost Jade, believing her to be dead after he was unable to find her out in the woods.

And so they continue to travel with the slight hope of finding Jade, but moreso in finding where the Pop trolls have now settled, some rumors going around that they may still be alive somewhere in the dense forest...

[posts-from-pluto]

Humans are weird - life expectancy

Quinn always found the idea of figuring out how they would spend their time if they only had two-hundred years to live to be an interesting hypothetical. There were animals out there who lived such short lifespans after all, though none of the ones they had encountered had the mental capacity to develop long-term goals, but if they could what would they choose to do? It was one of their favorite questions to ask to get to know someone, what they prioritize.

Or at least it was until they met Edith, a researcher part of a species that had just barely begun their existence as space-faring creatures, more importantly: a species that struggled to even make it to a hundred, let alone two-hundred years old.

...The end of her first day was rather awkward, I mean how could they have possibly known that that species would just so happen to be the first ones with such a short lifespan that had managed to make it into space.

Lords it was awful, remembering it still makes them wish they had the same memory issues as the Soweps

----

After being shown around the Cultural-Exchange Station, (C.S. for short), Edith decided to go join Quinn in the Lounge. A good, casual chat to get to know one of the people she would be spending at least the next few years with seemed like a good way to spend her first day aboard. What could possibly go wrong? It wasn't like there was much else she could do, unfortunately. Quinn had made it quite clear that she didn't have to couldn't start work until the next week, something about giving her time to 'get settled before entrusting her with a position on the team'.

Under normal circumstances, that would've been great... but now? After she just spent a week trapped alone on a ship without the ability to do anything productive? She'd be damned if she was going to spend another minute of her day just sitting around alone in an unfamiliar bedroom with weird furniture. Fixing her room could wait until tomorrow. She just had to go do something, anything that wasn't using her sitting by herself in that room. She walked over to one of the terminals to pull up the way to the lounge, or at least what she assumed was the lounge given the fact that nothing was labelled, before heading off to find Quinn. Hoping that her horrible sense of direction wouldn't embarrass her on her very first day.

She made off towards the general direction of the area on the map, passing by numerous rooms with widely different appearances from one that seemed oddly... cave-like? to another that would fit in more in an aquarium than it does a space station, or atleast what you'd expect in a human one anyways. Turning the corner into the maze of long corridors, Edith continued straight, which luckily, was in fact the way to the main lounge area.

Edith: "Hi Quinn!" She shouted from halfway across the room as she walked towards the couch they were sitting on.

Quinn: Hey, did you need something?

*Carefully choosing her spot to not make them uncomfortable, Edith sat on the other side of the couch*

Edith: Nope, I just wanted to walk around a bit. Get to know everyone better and stretch my legs a bit more, you know?

Quinn: Oh okay that's cool.... How's setting up your room going?

Edith: I haven't started yet. I'm still thinking about where I'm going to put everything.

Quinn: Not at all because you're procrastinating???

Edith: *GASP* How could you accuse me of such a thing? I would never~~~

Quinn:... That reminds me I never got around to asking,

How would you spend your life if you only had 200 years to live?

Edith: where did that come from?

Quinn: We were talking about procrasination and that got me thinking about time which made me remember I didn't ask you about how'd you'd spend 200 years. It's just something I ask everyone.

Quinn:...sooo I know it 's a really short amount of time but how would you spend it?

Edith: short???

Quinn: Yeah??? Am I missing something here?

Edith: .... Humans generally only live 80ish years naturally. Like at most some people make it into their hundreds but that's extremely rare

Quinn: ....oh

Edith: .... yeaaah

Quinn: I just remembered I actually have to go work on some very long paperwork- *They rush to get up, nearly tripping over their own legs* -I'll see you later! *They continued as they started speed walking away, the look on their face told her that they'd probably be running if it wouldn't make things more awkward*

Edith could barely stop herself from bursting out laughing at the scene... She'd have to tease them about that later....

Hmmm.....Good ways to answer how'd she'd spend 200 years???

....Annoying them?

Well She'd have plently of time to think about it while she unpacked.

____

Side note: This was going to be an angsty conversation between the two of them but the second I started writing the first bit the idea of it being one of the first questions Quinn asked Edith popped into my head and it just took on it's own life so I hope you enjoyed this instead :)

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Cale blinks, eyes bleary. He's being held in Choi Han's arms, tucked close to his chest. Wince. Not only does his head hurt, his body hurts now too.

Being ten is strange. Strange in the way that his body doesn't match his mind anymore. Strange in the way that he feels like a stranger in someone else's home. It reminds him of a memory, older than he is, of when he first walked into the orphanage. Out of place. The kids already there looked at him like he was no different from them, but it was strange to finally be labeled an orphan despite having been without parents for most of his life, now.

The 7 year olds memories tucked away in his mind welcome the 10 year old in. Cale frowns.

A habit from his older years, and younger ones, has him checking his environment before his condition.

"I will go to Duke Fredo." He hears Eruhaben declare to everyone in the room, clearly having a meeting of sorts. Cale is tucked so close to Choi Han that his being awake goes unnoticed. Or, if it is noticed, no one says anything about Cale listening in.

Rosalyn nods. "The White Star is planning something in Cale's absence. We need to find out what that is," somberly, she adds, "Before 'he' decides to do something about it first."

Cale yawns in the middle of her talking, and the buzzing in his ears prevents him from hearing the last part. Duke Fredo... Cale remembers being Naru, for a time. Cookies and the White Star... his head aches. It feels, very accurately, like a long needle is being inserted into his skull and poking around in his brain.

"Cale?" Choi Han squeezes his shoulder. The 10 year old in his arms frowns more at how comfortably he's being held. How long has Choi Han been carrying him? He recalls being carried by Choi Han many times. It makes him recall other things, such as pain and coughing up blood. He assertively stops thinking about it.

The meeting on the other side of the room comes to an end at Cale's emerging consciousness. The eyes on him feel familiar. It reminds him of the pitiful looks he got when he wandered the cold streets in nothing but a school uniform. His memory flickers and it suddenly reminds him again of the team, when they looked at him as the Team Leader.

Though, he can't think of any reason why they're staring at him like that.

Finally, with a twang of pain in his skull, he realizes that they're looking at him with expectation... he doesn't connect the dots that their expressions are that of worry. Was there something he missed? He yawns again, tears coming to his eyes, and he calmly wipes them away before kicking his legs.

"I want down."

Choi Han sets him on the ground, steadying him on his wobbly, sleepy legs. Cale is thinking about the conversation that Eruhanen and Rosalyn just had when hunger pains radiate from his stomach like twisting tendrils.

-Sorry Cale! I took longer to heal your body because of the curse, but it's fixed now!

Clutching his stomach with one hand, he covers his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep the blood in his hand as he coughs wetly. It tastes familiar, beyond the familiarity he had with it at 10, but rather its a lifetime of familiarity that cannot be contained in just the words, 'he tasted blood.' It was a taste he knew better than food or water.

His chest feels better, he notes. His head still hurts, unfortunately, but he shouldn't expect too much.

It also came out of his nose. Gross.

With that underwhelming thought, he keeps the blood carefully cupped in his hand. Uncle hated when he got blood on the-

Uncle is...

Right.

But still... he shouldn't get blood on his Hyung-nim's nice carpet. It's probably... expen... sive.

Noise buzzes around him, someone is touching his shoulder, but he's coughing blood again, again, and again, and it feels awful as his stomach twists and writhes with the hunger and pain that he's felt before, but it makes him ravenous all the same.

Hungry. He could eat anything right now. He remembers the tasteless rock he ate to get Super Rock's Ancient Power. He'd even eat a normal rock.

But still, even in his hunger, he keeps his mouth closed.

He can't bring himself to ask for food.

Not even from Raon. Something in his core, in his gut and his heart and his soul, tells him that he shouldn't ask. How could he take food from Raon? Well, it's Raon's supply of food for Cale anyway, so it's okay. But taking food from a child? But Cale is a child too--

"Human! That's your hungry face! Quickly eat this pie!" Raon cries out and there's suddenly a slightly smashed slice of apple pie in his face. How are there already tears on it...?

He grabs it without thinking hard.

The hunger doesn't care about tears, and soon Cale is stuffing his face with the salty apple pie with a fervor that he, at 10, would normally never have shown to anyone. He eats without chewing with a familiarity that makes him want to cry.

Choi Han's hand shakes on Cale's shoulder.

He should've checked Cale's condition beforehand. He saw that Cale used the ancient powers but still, Cale only got his external wounds treated. Why did he let his happen? He thought that it would be okay this time. Cale was young now and he wasn't showing a response for a long time, so he didn't think. There's no excuse for this.

Cale eats desperately, as if his life depends on it, and Choi Han can't help the way his heart cracks at the sight. And burns with frustration at his own uselessness.

Drip.

The room is quiet.

Drop.

"Human! Do-do you need more apple pie?!" Raon yells, panicking, bringing out more apple pie as Cale's cheeks become wet with silent tears. He reaches for a pie in the air and scarfs it down, uncaring of the sticky fingers covered in sweet apple filling and flaky, crumbling bits of crust.

It tastes like home.

It doesn't taste like Uncles house, or blood, or school hallways or alleys or scraps.

He sobs miserably, wanting to hide. He isn't crying over apple pie, he isn't! From his memories, he definitely shouldn't be crying over this much- it didn't even hurt enough to cry!

Thunder crackles outside the castle. Cale remains hunched over a new slice of apple pie, curling into himself in a very not-Cale like manner.

Another crack of lightning outside.

Eruhaben steps in front of Cale. He brushes Choi Han, frozen in his shock, away from the scene. Raon brings more apple pie out, even as he sees that Cale isn't so much eating the pie as he is holding it.

"Human, I will- I will destroy the world! You can't go into a coma again, I will- I will," Raon's voice cracks. Choi Han gathers himself. He looks at Cale, before calmly standing next to Raon and touching his paw in the air. "Human..."

"Cale," Eruhaben speaks calmly. "Look at me."

Cake shakes his head, fingers trembling. Something's wrong with him, inside of him, and the panic gets to his chest as he starts to take quicker breaths. Cale looks through his memories to fix himself but they blur in a cacophony of sounds and words and frames.

"Cale Henituse, you need to relax. Everything is okay. No one is taking anything from you. Calm down."

They weren't inspirational and comforting words. No, the words could even be considered a little cold, for an adult speaking to what appears to be a 7 year old. But it was necessary for Cale, who was 10 and not 7, and Kim Rok Soo, who was orphaned at a young age and abused and abandoned, and a little boy who went through both child and teenage years without anyone he could call family.

Cale opens his eyes. Were they closed? Eruhaben is in front of him.

Calm down.

Why did Lee Soo Hyuk come to mind when he heard that? A distant, dusty memory falls through his mind, so he picks it up and watches it. The Record plays out.

Something happened like this, once.

It was the only time he came close to crying in front of the Team Leader. Lee Soo Hyuk brought him out of it. The Record, though the reason why he almost cried was somehow forgotten(lost?), always played when he needed to put himself together in a moment of weakness.

Even now. When he is 10 years old in a 7 year olds body. The voice brings back the feeling of calm.

His memories settle.

Right. This is more like him. More like himself.

His face levels out into something neutral.

It feels like an older version of himself, somewhere between 38 and 20, is stroking the top of his head. Cale wonders if hallucinations are part of the curse.

"Good job." Lee Soo Hyuk in the Record and Eruhaben's words overlap for a moment but Cale ignores it.

It takes mental strength to stand straight again, but he manages it with a stiff expression. His hands are a mess, a gross mix of blood and the smushed flesh of what used to be a perfect apple pie.

He's never been more ashamed and embarrassed in his life. Old memories come to mind, reminding him that he's done worse, but the 10 year old in a 7 year olds body feels mortified. If he'd done this in front of his uncle...

"I'm sorry." Cale apologizes. It comes out of his mouth naturally. He has a lot that he could be apologizing for. The floor, which surely has blood and messy apple pie on it now. The pie, which is as ruined as his shirt. The weird hyperventilating thing he did. He recalls his memories. Maybe it wasn't what Lee Soo Hyuk called it, a 'panic attack,' but something different, more sinister.

He convinces himself that it is.

Red flag number 6 it is.

"Cale, you have nothing to be sorry for." Eruhaben states clearly. Cale looks him in the eyes. Strangely, he feels compelled to believe the Ancient Dragon.

.... Red Flag number 7?

Cale backs away on instinct.

Eruhaben sighs.

"Unlucky bas... hah." Standing up from where he had apparently gotten on his knees, Eruhaben waves his hand. The gross feeling on Cale's hands disappears effortlessly, and the stain on his shirt vanishes too. "It'll still be better to wash your hands, at least. Though that doesn't mean you're dirty... it means you were attacked by apple pie." Eruhaben tells him seriously. He lowers himself to his height and makes eye contact. "So it's best to wash it off, just in case some of it is still on you. It could... attack again."

The other people in the room, notably missing Bud and the mage Glenn now, stare at Eruhaben. He pointedly ignores their gazes.

Cale nods.

Eruhaben covers his rising smile.

"Off you go now," he lowers the hand, looking serious again. Struggling, he continues,"... Be careful." Like sending off a soldier, he stands up and looks away from Cale.

Choi Han covers his own face and fights to not laugh.

Somehow, despite the fact that Cale technically has all of his memories, the explanation works for him. He goes into the bathroom, escorted by Ron, who helps wash his hands at the sink. Ron also has him change his clothes, despite their clean appearance.

Ron assures him that it's due to the risk of another apple attack. It could be stuck to the clothes as well. Cale frowns. Ron smiles at the pouting 7 year old.

The 10 year old starts changing his clothes obediently.

Cale's muscles ache and burn. Even his bones hurt.

His head is in so much pain, especially when he focuses, but he draws in his willpower to think very hard about the reason why he might be in this condition.

Cale winces as the needle in his brain digs in deep and drags itself over his frontal lobe, and he visibly shudders, trying not to grimace.

10 year olds are supposed to be bigger than 7 year olds, is the conclusion he comes to.

...

Cale gets chill on the back of his neck.

Surely he isn't going to grow... right? No, no way. If he is, surely he shouldn't be in pain, right? He became 7 years old in a flash and it didn't hurt, so why now?

The pain alleviates for a second. In feels like whatever is causing the pain is given a revelation.

In his undergarments, Cale is enveloped in a white light.

This is...

Definitely red flag number 8.

Definitely, he thinks, suddenly 12 years old in a 12 year olds body. The needle painfully digging into his brain burns and yet feels cold at the same time. It spreads like an infection, and he immediately covers his right eye as it becomes numb with a sharp, icy sensation. Strangely, his hand warms up.

Ron, who innocently retrieved a garment from the crown prince Alberu's younger days, drops it. The assassins hands, which never tremble, shake more than they would if Cale had been an adult. Seeing a newly 12 Cale bleeding from his eye...

Blood seeps through the gap between Cale's hand and his face, which is now suddenly 12 years old.

Cale-- Ron realizes as he calls, as calmly as he can, for the ancient dragon and rushes in a not-so-calm manner to the young masters side-- has yet to realize that his eye is gushing blood. The 12 year old looks at Ron, confused.

Ron's expression is stiff.

"Ron?" Cale asks.

Eruhaben enters the room alongside Raon and Choi Han, but Ron focuses on relaxing his expression, and carefully holding Cale's hand to his eye, keeping it there so he doesn't remove it.

"Young Master... Do you remember the song, Dark Night Moon Light?"

Cale frowns. His head hurts.

"No." He says honestly. Why is everyone in here all of a sudden? Cale was barely dressed in some now too-small shorts. It's cold, he thinks through the pain.

"Then I will remind you, Young Master. It's a children's song that parents or butlers like me sing at a child's bedside. The child will close their eyes and listen to the song. Would you allow this butler to sing it to you?"

All of a sudden?

Cale feels uncomfortable, but his head hurts so much that he can't think about it a lot, so he closes his eyes.

Ron sings, in his calm and low voice, a common children's melody. He himself had once sung it for Beacrox, a long time ago.

It's supposed to help children who find themselves terrified of the dark. As far as Ron knows, Cale was never been so afraid of the dark to have this song sung to him... but, he understands with a bitter heart, even if he had been scared, the song would've been sung by his mother. Not his father, who was too sucked in by his grief after her passing.

He realizes that Cale, being 12 now, must no longer have the memories of his mother singing to him.

Eruhaben has Ron carefully remove Cale's hand, which had been pooling blood inside, spilling onto the floor.

Branded under his eye, looking like a burn in the soft and thin skin, is a number.

'12'

Eruhaben waves away the blood.

"Young Master, open your eyes now. The song is over." Ron doesn't react to the number, and when Cale opens his eyes, hides his relief that his eye is not damaged. Just bleeding. "Do you know how old you are now?" Though, Ron had a strong suspicion that they already knew.

"... 12, I think."

"Cale, you've been fighting off the curse, haven't you?" Eruhaben asks. It feels angry. Cale shrinks in on himself.

"It's fine, isn't it? It's better if I'm older."

He won't cry anymore. He can bathe again, since he can now handle the phantom sensations of blood and scars and dirt. He won't ignorantly use his ancient powers. Off the top of his head, there are more reasons that he should be older than there are reasons to go back to being young.

He is a better slacker when he isn't being whiny and childish.

"... Cale-nim." Choi Han groans.

"You knew that you were fighting off the curse, right?" Eruhaben asks again, but it's calculating.

"... Yes," but how could he not? He could always feel when he grew older, smarter. Not to mention the cracking like pain of his skull being hammered in, worse and worse as he ages. Even now, he can only tell the honest and not altered truth, simply because he is in too much pain.

Choi Han wants to ask. 'Is it because you don't trust us?'

But he holds his tongue.

Eruhaben sighs. He nods at Ron.

"Get dressed." Eruhaben rubs the top of Cales red hair, leaving him frazzled, before leaving the room. Choi Han clutches his sword and restrains his rampant emotions.

"You aren't in trouble human! The great and mighty Raon will help you become a child again!" Raon flies around Cale. Ron, observing Choi Han and Raon, leaves to rob the crown prince of more clothes.

Sigh. Cale shivers.

His head hurts.

[wishchip106]

rewatching first class and i noticed Charles only has ONE pickup line 😭🤚

“Mutation took us from single-celled organisms to being the dominant form of reproductive life on this planet.”

he used this line on the heterochromia lady AND on Moira

his only preference is mutations

i wonder when he used this line on Erik

Charles, pointing out Erik’s mutations seductively:

Erik:

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[daeyumi]

Cycle of the Stars: Prologue II

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60104758/chapters/158660371

Prologue II

Ipseity

***

23rd day of Rising Sun

It happened again today. That uneasiness, a looming duress; like thunderheads come at last to devour the hungry sky. A catalyst. It seems a portent of things to come. I feel it when I walk the streets of the town, a grim wind between the crowds. Not in their faces or in the busy markets, vibrant as always. But I feel it all the same.

Reports are the same as ever. Monsters to the west, far across the sands; dispatched by the party who brought the news. An unconcerning pattern. Our people are strong, we carry the wind and the sky in our swords.

All is well.

And yet….

Current emotions: apprehension, stability, resilience

24th day of Rising Sun

I passed by her effigy. I didn’t intend to, lost in thought and wandering the back streets of my city, away from my pretensions and the relentless eyes of its denizens. I’ve walked these streets so many times, day by day over the years, the markets, the inn, the homes of my people. Our lives.

I know them like the tracks on the back of my hand, each line a story, an introspection, a defiance. I do not walk the path that leads to her. Always taking alternate routes- a lifetime of avoidance, of cowardice; a king hiding like a rat from the burning glare of a sun that was never meant for me.

And yet I saw her. That abhorrent goddess. Weathered stone worn smooth by the ardent consecration of many hands; an immutable effigy to match its subject. She leers down at me from her hallowed alcove; her cold eyes watching me, freezing me, judging me. Using me. She would use me if she could, as she has so many of my predecessors. I reject their fate, as I should have rejected their path and tread another.

Sometimes I think I should have chosen a different name, far removed from this accursed title and its implications. But the associations persist, groundless; and so I remain.

Current emotions: defiance, wistfulness, steadfast rejection

25th day of Rising Sun

I keep running it over again in my mind. Did I feel this way before? Yesterday? This morning? There’s no evidence. My records show the same; the persistence of my resolve unequivocal in these pages.

I feel they’re plotting against me. The goddesses.

Every movement I make, I suspect interference of a higher power. A puppet on divine strings, a doll tossed to the callous earth and left to rot amongst the refuse, swallowed by avarice and the fetters of eons spent in limbo.

I wonder if she smiles down at us as we fight and kill and die in her name like playthings.

I will wander no further down this path tonight; I have other matters to occupy my mind.

Current emotions: introspection, suspicion, anticipation

26th day of Rising Sun

The merchants whisper of strange disappearances across the sand, some travelers claiming to have lost contact with inhabitants of the far dunes.

Swallowed to the earth without a trace.

These allegations are unsubstantiated at best; yet still I am forced to consider the implications of an unknown actor upon my lands.

Current emotions: scrutiny, quietude, steadiness

27th day of Rising Sun

Another skirmish broke out on the northeastern border with Hyrule. None of our own were lost, yet I cannot but suspect that larger pieces are in motion. For today, I remain grateful that all my warriors have returned to me.

Current emotions: peace, requital, suspicion

28th day of Rising Sun

I couldn’t sleep last night. My dreams were filled with faces; features scratched out and incomprehensible, looking down on me from a formless haze of revelation. So many in their number that a thousand lifetimes could not count them, and yet so few that they seemed only One. Flaying the skin from my bones with their judgment until nothing remained of me but the crest upon my right hand, tattered skin peeling back from the bone and shredding, fragmenting, returning to the sand in all corners of the world; scars releasing their hold on their captive and fleeing to the edges of my vision, absolved by the light in the piercing eyes above. And still those etched triangles remained. I felt my eyes recede into sand in the wind as I woke, my consciousness ebbing to the void at the same time it returned to me in wakefulness.

And yet nothing disturbs us in my waking hours.

Current emotions: foreboding, apprehension, resistance

29th day of Rising Sun

They say a Hero has appeared. They say he heralds a great darkness, the misfortune only endowed upon those forced to the wrong side of fate. The Hero’s rise has only ever spelled desolation for us. It’s the same damned prophecy I’ve been running from my whole life. The Princess, the Hero, and the sinistrous man held fast by the thrall of the dominance forced upon him by birthright.

I see my deepest fears laid to light before me. Strung out along my path like corpses wrung by the neck, withered husks prefacing a descent to erasure. They beckon me forth with voices of autonomy and empty promises.

Is there any other recourse to be taken than to wait? For if I make a move now, I throw myself willingly down the same declivity of actions as all those who came before, abandoning my will to providence and to the whims of the curse upon my flesh.

Current emotions: unease, disgust, rejection

30th day of Rising Sun

Hyrule wants war with us. They won’t state as much, but I see it in their eyes; the way they look at us, at me. Blame.

The envoy arrived this morning with an air of finality. Only a handful of Hylians; ambassadors and their guards. That woman striding brazenly at their helm. That Gerudo-turned-traitor, come to accuse us; burying the intent of Hyrule’s words beneath pleasantries and clarifications. Hiding behind the swords and shields of a so-called honor guard.

Their precaution is telling enough. And their adjurations when we spoke has only strengthened my conviction.

I spell it plainly here, so my future self can recall these terms without influence or bias- above all else, I must know my own thoughts. They suspect us for the monster attacks that threaten their kingdom; they claim the border skirmishes are waged in self-defense, citing raids on the settlements at the fringes of Hyrule. For disappearances and deaths. Brutality.

I demanded proof. They had nothing to show. Only discarded shards of bone, warped beyond recognition. A splintered, massive claw, serrated at its edge; holes driven through the carapace as if awaiting new growth from within. The tip of a weathered blade, blood rusted upon its surface. Nothing but refuse and remnants and blame. Blame for the past. Blame for the future. Blame for the unknown and the secret and the goddess-scorned and the false. They left in a stone-faced resolve, disappearing in the haze of heat across the sun-smeared dunes.

They’ve said nothing about the whispers of the hero. Is it ignorance, or subterfuge? And what does it say about my own state that I am unable to discern between the two?

I ill wish for bloodshed, but I will do what is necessary. Always.

Current emotions: tension, regret, unease

31st day of Rising Sun

I’ve begun to wonder if I’m overthinking this.

Perhaps what I sense is merely a facet of the larger scope. If the enmity I perceived was instead representative of a more tangible threat. I’ve had time to reflect upon the events of the past few days; and now having a clear sense of Hyrule’s intent, I fear the threat of men over formless cosmic interference. War. Or perhaps she has once again played me for a fool.

And when my senses fail me, I can trust nothing more than my own writings.

Current emotions: doubt, intrigue, contemplation

1st day of Zenith

I feel once more a fell wind upon our city. The masses pray in earnest to their delusory goddess; beseeching salvation from a burden which should never have been theirs to bear. I do not begrudge them their faith, though I wished they had chosen a better target for their prayers.

Current emotions: contempt, rejection, stability

2nd day of Zenith

Nāori brought the report today. One of our scouting parties did not return from their sortie; a routine patrol to the southwestern border. They were expected back at dusk two days past; a search party already dispatched to their aid. This development... it weighs heavily on my mind. I wait until the morrow, but no further.

Current emotions: impatience, unease, worry

3rd day of Zenith

Trouble. A giant pit in the sands. My soldiers are missing. Glass sphere. Vast abyss. I will write more as time allows.

Current emotions: anxiety, resolve, anger

4th day of Zenith

I found them.

I set out yesterday at dusk, after one of my soldiers returned bearing news that their scouting party had been swallowed by the desert. She cited a massive pit in the wasteland like a giant abyss; it opened up suddenly in a in a flash of searing cold, rending a hole in the dunes. Isa is her name. She claimed herself the sole survivor, witness to the desecration. I have no reason to distrust her, though I am forced to consider the possibility that she is an agent of a higher power, sent to lure me away. I go forward regardless. I will not risk the safety of my people to send another.

I tread the long path to the southwest, to the cruel corners of the desert, following Isa’s footprints until the sand reclaimed them; tracking my soldiers by the moon and stars alone. Out to the far reaches of the kingdom, away from the border with Hyrule.

I saw it there.

A gaping fissure in the earth; a compressed sphere of sand above, its surface glassy and dark as if burnt by the sun, forging a black eclipse in the arid sky. It cast an ominous presence above me. I descended along the cliffs in the midday sun, finding rest along the shallow crevasses in the sun-baked earth; seeing no one, hearing nothing. Only the wind howling rough across the entrance to the abyss. The further I plunged, the more the cracks in the walls opened up, pushing deeper into the earth like the seamstress’s needle on coarse cloth. I found the entrance to the cavern far below; a tunnel rough-hewn but steady, unnatural.

I beheld the first signs of despair upon that threshold.

Empty eyes. Twisted, broken limbs. Once familiar faces contorted into mockeries of amity. Blood on their bodies and the floor and the walls and the ceiling; glittering rubies dyed crimson with the sunset draining from the sky, leeching the color from ashen skin. The final nightfall before the end.

Rhine. Luka. Ryza. Fyrani. Palu. Osa.

Their bodies haven’t even started to decay yet. Maybe it would be easier if they had. Perhaps then, they would not be so easily recognizable. That I would wish for the desecration of those I should have mourned…. The cycle begins anew like violence welling up beneath my skin.

I never want to forget this feeling. Numbness; ineptitude; guttural, sickening, twisted fury. I dared not move for fear that I would act upon my impulses. I refuse to allow her a way in.

I will not become her tool.

…

The silence has afforded me the time to write, but little else. I wish it were not so. I sit with them still, one final vigil in the gloam.

It is all I can offer them now, ill solace that it is; this and the promise of vengeance with every breath I take.

It is not enough.

It will never be enough.

Current emotions: wrath stability, perseverance, vengeance

—NO—

preservation

***

I cannot sleep.

I remember the carnage on the sands. Standing amid the corpses of a dozen grown men. A child. The feeling of the spear haft in my grip, battle hardened and slick with blood and sweat, sticking between the crevasses of the treated wood and freezing my hands in place. And I remember Sumiira’s eyes. Holding me, pleading. Not for her life, but for mine. She was wrong. Unseeing; the vitality in them extinguished by the ring of persecution laid lifeless at my feet. And all I could think about was what I could tell our mother. Feeling even then that I had already fallen victim to the curse of my forebears.

Enough.

If I have time to write, I have time to search.

Tonight I will return my soldiers’ remains to the desert, and press forward into the hungry earth. There are still more bodies unaccounted for.

5th day of Zenith

I am running out of time. I swept the catacombs from the early hours of the morning til the sun disappeared once more from the tenuous horizon, dripping light from the edges of the hollow eclipse hanging over me. Unable to sleep, unable to rest.

These tunnels reek of her influence. “Divine intervention”. It seeps into the floors and the walls and the air, clawing it’s way into my throat, infecting me from within. I hear voices calling in the darkness but I dare not open my mouth to respond, for fear that she will use that ingress against me.

I make haste to the depths of the labyrinth now, wondering if I lead myself to the precipice of my demise.

Current emotions: unease, impetus, melancholy

6th day of Zenith

There are other corpses still, in the tunnels. I passed ever more in my descent: those unfamiliar to me in their garments and features. And some of our own. Rotted flesh flayed beyond recognition. The stench settled heavy around me as my footfalls broke the requiem to sully the tainted ground beneath me. Alone, I walked the winding crevasses beneath the sands; alone I searched in vain for the last of the unaccounted for.

I heard them, first, but suspected another trick of the fetid air. Their silhouettes came into focus as I rounded a corner in the catacombs, stone-still and broken. But the bodies that crouched amid the blood and rubble still drew breath— their eyes desperate and wary, reflecting back the firelight of my torch. Five living in total. Makure cradled her sister’s limp body in her arms. All of them bore wounds. Even so, knowing that they yet lived strengthened my resolve and justified my quest; I was more relieved to find them than anyone may ever know.

I forged on.

I left the survivors but long enough to confirm the passing of the final two missing women; laid cold and solitary at the back of a dead-end passage. Time spared no kindness for us this day. I honor the dead by reconciling the living.

We returned through the winding paths of the chasm, ascending; emerging once more to the surface under the watchful reign of hardened glass, sun piercing the sky around its edge. I brought my warriors home. Delivered them hence to their families and their lives, carrying the wounded on my back and the dead in my heart. Yet still I feel the weight of an imminent future upon us. Tonight, I ordered the southwestern dunes closed off. I haven’t the numbers to investigate this anomaly further; and my own attention needs be turned to preparations for the inevitable conflict ahead of us.

I feel her eyes on me still; scorching my back in the candor of the sun, binding my hands and committing my mind to preclusion.

This is not the end.

Current emotions: foreboding, resolve, resistance

[Exerpts from the diary of Ganondorf, 71st King of the Gerudo.]

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Undercover Missions, Yakuza, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, needlessly detailed and well-researched descriptions of real places in Japan, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Minor Original Character(s) Summary:

At their graduation from UA, Katsuki tries to confess his feelings to Izuku. Unfortunately for him, Izuku not only beats him to the punch, but then he skips town. Chasing his ass down means Katsuki must join an undercover reconnaissance mission to expose a yakuza drug operation. On the inside, miscommunication and tensions abound as the two childhood friends are tasked with unraveling the mystery behind the drug, finding its source, and shutting it down before more innocent people get hurt.

bkdk spies is finally here, guys!!