#And if it's bad well it's time to see it off

[g-k444]

health ed class where im the shy girl at the back who blushes, embarrassed when the teacher announces we're doing sex ed in class today.

the first thing he asks for is a volunteer

i normally get picked on for these sorts of things - y'know - given im the one at the back of the class that always tucks her head into her book whenever she's noticed... i do my usual interested-in-book act and hope to go unnoticed.

it fails once again.

against my volunteering-want, i pick myself up - cheeks darkening as I feel the class' attention turn to me as my chair scrapes the floor, my heels dragging as i stand at the front and look across the classroom - seeing how many judgemental pairs of eyes stare at me - today's subject.

"Now that we have someone who has kindly volunteered - will you hop up onto the desk-"

I leaned back and let myself pull my bodyweight up so that I sat with my legs extending from the teacher's desk on the front

"-And pull your skirt up."

the words took a second to resonate before my eyebrows flew up in shock. "S-sorry?"

"Show the class your pussy," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "we're in a health class and you volunteering yourself - your body - so go on, show the class your pussy."

My throat dries and closes, face draining of colour and yet heating up simultaneously, legs crossing over each other defensively whilst my body seemingly freezes at the overwhelmingness of it all.

I can't talk - my throat hoarse from the shock of it all - and instead the best i can do is shake my head erratically, not willing to oblige. was he joking? was this some example of how if you don't wanna show your body to everyone you shouldn't send pictures?

what sick thing what going on?!

it wasn't a joke though - and seemingly bad was turning to worse at the teacher frowned. "well, you've already volunteered yourself, and if you don't comply with what i tell you to do then there will be consequences, miss."

my body remained frozen in place from the shock of it all. and looking across the classroom, all the other students seemed perfectly okay with what was going on - as if there were some universe where this was normal! And if not neutral to it - some of the body even seemed to have their interests piqued by the idea, leant forwards in their desks as though trying to get closer to the action.

the teacher noticed my lack of movement and took matters into his own hands.

"Jones! Up!"

I looked across the room as my bully - the one that antagonized me for all things stupid and trivial - stood up and came to the front of the class.

"I'm going to lift her skirt up and hold her body to keep her still - i want you to hold her thighs open and pull her panties off."

this time the words clicked faster, and I pushed myself off of my arms to get off of the table and not let myself get undressed in front of the whole class - yet my teacher was faster. his arm wrapped around my body and pulled my back into his chest, his other forearm grasping at the hem of my skirt before yanking it upwards and revealing the upper skin of my thighs and the baby pink panties i'd chosen this morning - things that I hadn't expected nor wanted the class to see

"get-off- mE!" i wriggled under the teacher's hold and yet couldn't escape his grasp - and looking across the class with teary eyes, noone cared to make eye contact with me or help - instead they all made eye contact with the baby pink between my legs, uncaring for the yelps that left my mouth

the only one that looked me in the eyes was Jones. My bully, who hadn't shown kindness since I'd first joined. please, Jones... I'd whispered with a wavering tone to him - holding eye contact as he leaned down, his hands falling on either of my thighs... before he gripped them - hard - and prised them open to give everyone a better view of the pair of panties. and with both his hands occupied, his head fell between my legs as a scream left my mouth, his teeth clenching around the material to pull it away from my pussy and expose the raw flesh that evoked some scattered gasps and wows across the classroom.

"Terry, take my place holding her - everyone gather round-"

My body was grasped by a different set of arms, blubbers falling from my lips as the teacher came to my side and the class left their seats to come closer to my bare pussy - eyes fixated on the exposed mound

"This is what a real pussy looks like - this up here-"

he touched my clit and made my whole body jerk, a cry mixing ang mingling with a moan and making something of a wailing noise that seemed to make someone's trousers tighter

"that is the clitoris. the place that had the most nerves and it a pleasure point on the female anatomy. This set of lips is the labia majora - the other lips - and these inner ones are the labia minora"

i felt utterly degraded feeling him pinch either set of lips, shaking them with his words to emphasise what he said using my body - a trail of dampness following his fingers as he pulled away from my pussy

"and most importantly - this here is the vagina - the hole from which women have periods and babies from - but most importantly - the place which you put cocks, fingers and toys into to pleasure a woman."

"everyone, you may now touch and feel the demonstration."

my whole body jerked as various prods and motions were conceded on my pussy - Jones' hold firm around my thighs and stopping my from squirming or wriggling myself away from all the touch that made tears leak from my eyes

"can i finger her, sir?"

"absolutely, how else would you learn?"

a scream leaves my mouth as a pair of foreign fingers breaches my pussy, twisting and almost patting my inner walls curiously, before pulling away with a trail connecting his fingers to my pussy - fluid dripping between his fingers as the separated the two that had been inside my pussy

"okay, so, our first assignment will be to see how a pussy reacts when stimulated with pleasure"

everyone is given a chance to make me cum.

initially i scream and writhe on the desk whilst I'm instead pinned down, and have my pussy violated with fingers what scissor my walls and prod a sensitive spot until my juices spread over my shaky legs. then it's a tongue that breaches my hole with flicks and thrusts. they gain confidence though - and it's not long before a cock is inserted into my pussy and leaves stains of white over my pussy when he finishes.

my throat becomes so raw i cant speak - my mind a broken scramble and my pussy is so spent and broken that it doesn't even contract in horror anymore. it's completely passive as the orifice is breached over and over until...

"okay, that's good - now, as we still have a bit more time before class finishes... let's have some fun - everyone - find something in your bag or in the classroom to shove in her pussy to see how she reacts."

my mind is still scrambled - yet someone props a book beneath my head so that i can at least see all of the objects that are pushed into my hole - the pupils' cum acting as lubrication that allows the random objects to enter my pussy

a whiteboard pen, markers and other various stationary items enter first - testing the waters before someone tries to push a water bottle up there - then a chair leg that two people need to hold to effectively spear me with the metal rod

"good job today," the teacher bends to say into my ear as the students thank him and leave the classroom whilst im still starfished, energy dead on the desk. "clean yourself up and go the principal's office once you've done that. apparently he could hear all the racket in here and wanted a private meeting with you"

[purinfelix]

you're no good for me, but baby i want you - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ──── delinquent Niki x class president reader || sfw but a little suggestive, kissing/making out, so much tension like so much, enemies to lovers sorta? || w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i'm trying to get better at writing longer fics/ones that actually have closure bc looking back i realise i kinda always leave u guys on cliffhangers LOLL - also i rlly tried to avoid making this too cliche given the trope i hope it worked !!! actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop rip

‘Bad boy’ felt too cliche - at least for your liking. You preferred to refer to Niki as what he was, a delinquent, a troublemaker, someone who skipped most of his classes and spent the rest dosing off or arguing with the teacher. But no matter what you called him you were sure of one thing, he pissed you off.

To be honest, you had absolutely no interest in the sorts of things a student like him got up to in his own time, but it was the fact that he insisted on dragging you into his business that irritated you the most. You weren’t sure why exactly he kept targeting you, maybe it was because he just wanted to mess with the class president or because you seemed like an easy target to him - whatever reason he had didn’t make it any less tiring though.

Skipping classes was one thing, but his constant breaches of uniform code meant that you were running out of warning slips - and patience. It didn’t help that whenever you did, he would only look you up and down with an amused smirk, brows raised as if daring you to continue telling him off - which only worked to make you stumble over your words.

That’s why you had made the decision to stop giving him anymore of your attention, and the most recent time you had seen him sporting his signature look - no blazer, dress shirt half unbuttoned and several silver earrings, you chose to ignore him. You simply walked past him in the hallway without so much as a passing glance, hoping it would tell him to stop wasting your time and causing trouble.

Little did you know, he would misinterpret your signs to mean the exact opposite.

The next morning when you were waiting at your desk you heard a wave of hushed murmurs coming from down the hall, and couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. A loud thud sent the classroom door flying open and a couple of his friends filed in with amused grins - and it was only when Niki followed them in did you see why. Not only had he gone and messily bleached parts of his jet black hair, but he now donned a piercing straight through his right eyebrow which, judging from the pink tinge surrounding it, was both brand new and self-made.

You were unable to stop your neck from craning as your eyes followed his figure, watching as he sauntered over to his desk in the back corner of the classroom, threw his books onto it and sat down. The expression on his face showed that he couldn’t care less about being there, but his eyes trained on you as if waiting for you to make a move.

You hated that he knew you so well, because before you knew it you were out of your seat and at the head of his desk, arms folded with a stern expression on your face. You can’t remember exactly what you said but it must’ve been harsh, and loud enough to summon the attention of almost the entire class, and your teacher who stormed into the classroom shortly after to tell the two of you off. It must’ve also been harsh enough to earn the two of you an after-school detention, which was your very first - though it clearly wasn’t Niki’s.

So that’s how the two of you had ended up alone, in an empty, hot classroom - waiting as the minutes of your detention ticked by agonisingly slowly. Irritated was an understatement. It was taking every ounce of self-control you had not to turn around and punch Niki right there and then. You kept your fuming to yourself, at least for now though, while you worked silently on an assignment, determined to at least make good use of being stuck here for the next hour or so - even if it meant spending it in a tense silence.

Niki didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, having sat himself in the chair right beside yours and kicked his feet up on the desk, twirling a pen in one hand as he hummed softly to himself. You were trying your best to ignore him, and he was trying his best to make that very difficult.

“What are you working on?” he asked curiously as he leaned in over your shoulder.

“Just an assignment,” you shot back curtly.

“Ah of course, what a goody-two shoes,” he scoffed as he sat back.

“Rather a goody-two shoes than a good-for-nothing delinquent,” you mumbled under your breath, though not quiet enough to escape his ears.

“A delinquent? Is that really what you think of me?” he asked in faux-offence, “I’m hurt.” You turned slightly, just enough to see the dramatic pout he had formed across his lips, his brows curving upwards and his piercing going with it.

“Whatever,” you huff, feeling both irritation and exhaustion rise in you, “it’s your fault we’re here in the first place anyways.”

“Oh yeah, my fault that you started a petty argument.”

“Your fault for dyeing your hair that stupid colour and getting that piece of metal jammed in your face!” You cry out, fully facing him now as you felt your face burning hot, “I mean seriously, all I did was ignore you once, and you go ahead and did something ridiculous like that?” Gesturing to his piercing and new hair, you can’t help but feel even more infuriated at the sight of his smirk which only grew as he watched you from half-lidded eyes.

“What makes you think I did it for you?” He asks teasingly, and you suddenly feel your bravado begin to crumble - he’s right, who are you to assume that?

“Well, I-” you stutter, but he interrupts you.

“Well maybe I did,” he laughs softly, “that depends on whether you like it or not.”

“That is so besides the point, Niki,” you whine, “it’s against uniform policy.”

“Oh c’mon, you think it’s a little cool,” he taunts, and you turn back around in your seat, chewing your bottom lip as you’re determined not to give him a response which you’re sure will only fuel his ego.

You sit in silence for a bit, and you can tell he’s watching you carefully in the way he leans in, keen eyes trained on your expression - almost as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking. But that’s a challenge even you’re struggling with right now.

He’s the one to break the silence again. “I am sorry about getting you a detention though, that wasn’t what I meant to do.” You blink in disbelief because for the very first time, he sounds almost as if he really means what he’s saying.

“Is that an apology?” you say, gasping to show your surprise, though this quickly dissolved into a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t sit here and watch you sulk for the next hour.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the tension between the two of you melt away at his apology, just enough for you to want to keep talking to him - even if it means neglecting your homework, for now. Your eyes move over his face, his sharp jaw, his eyebrow piercing glinting under the warm classroom light.

“Did it hurt?”

It’s a stupid question, you know, but it’s the only thing you can think to ask as you fiddle nervously in your seat. If you’re being completely honest, you do think it’s cool, you’ve always thought his piercing were cool - and right now you want nothing more than to reach out and feel them for yourself. But your common sense stops you.

“Well, duh,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat as his eyes fix on yours, “figured a smart-ass like you would’ve been able to guess that.”

“Just asking,” you grumble defensively, though your curiosity urges you to keep talking. “If it hurt, why’d you do it?”

“Well, you like it, don’t you?” He asks, “that’s all the reason I need.”

You’re tempted to tell him off again, but something about his tone catches you off guard - it’s oddly earnest, and he says it with such a simplicity that makes you really believe that maybe he’s telling the truth and you’re unable to find the resolve to spoil this moment

“Can I feel it?”

He’s almost as shocked by your request as you are, and even as it leaves your mouth you’re unsure entirely why you’re asking it. His eyes widen in a way that you can’t help but find a little cute, even as you’re struggling to process your own thoughts.

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, but can’t believe you actually did. You turn in your chair to face him, your arms coming up awkwardly to bridge the distance between you both but it’s clear you’re still too far.

You’re about to lean forward more in your seat to reach him, until you notice his hand coming down to grip the leg of your chair and it isn’t until you feel yourself moving and hear the faint screech of the legs against the floor that you realise that he’s pulling it - pulling you closer to him.

Once you’re close enough he stops, though his hand doesn’t leave the back of your chair, instead resting there as if trapping you in with him as he leans down as that his face is level with yours. You try not to overthink the way your knees are touching, or how this is your first time seeing him this close and how he’s even better looking up close. Carefully, you bring your hand and pray that he doesn’t notice the way it trembles, as your thumb grazes his thick brow gently. Even though you wish he didn’t, he keeps his eyes open and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as your fingers close around the small metal ball.

“It’s cold,” you mumble, not sure what else to say to fill the air between you two.

“It’s metal,” he says matter-of-factly, letting out a small laugh at your fascination with it.

“You didn’t need to to do this just to get my attention, you know,” your eyes focus on the piercing as you speak, unable to look him in the eyes when admitting something that feels like a confession.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow.” You’re again amazed at how he can say such earnest things with such a serious face, and even as you look away you know his eyes are on you.

“Most people would’ve just said hi or something, not put a brand new hole in their face,” you sigh, fingers moving to tuck a stray strand of bleached hair behind his ear.

“Well most people wouldn’t be here now with you touching their face, so by my standards my plan worked better.”

“Did that plan have to include getting me my first-ever detention?” You ask in annoyance, though you can’t help but laugh softly at his simplicity.

“Well, not at first,” he admits, “but at least we’re alone, hm?”

“Because you need me alone to talk to me?”

“No, because I need you alone to do this.”

You’re pretty sure if you weren’t already leaning towards him you would’ve fallen backwards from the forceful way his lips crash into yours - and if not from that then the sheer shock of just that. Luckily for you though, he already has an arm snaked around your waist, keeping a hold of you and pulling you closer.

It shocks you though that, despite the initial force, Niki’s kiss is gentle, almost as if he’s easing you into something he knows you’re struggling to accept. He’s experienced, that’s for sure, but you can tell in his movements that he’s holding back from pushing you any further.

You don’t even realise it but your hands are cupping his face, caressing his strong jawline and pulling him closer to you. You open your mouth to talk but the only noise that comes out is a breathy gasp and if you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his hands in your hair you might’ve stopped to feel embarrassed about how desperate you sound for him right now.

“Niki,” you mumble against his lips, unsure of what to do as you feel your mind struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

“Want me to stop?” he says in between heavy breaths, and even though it sounds like a taunt you know him well enough to know he’s being serious.

You shake your head in response, but decide to have a little fun of your own while you can. “When have you ever cared what I want?”

“Oh, you have no clue,” he hums in a low whisper as he leans back in.

“And when have you ever listened to what I’ve told you to do?”

“You’re right about that,” he smirks, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with the reckless abandon you’ve come to expect from him - almost as if he was waiting for your permission to let go. You thought you would’ve felt a little predictable, pathetic even, for having fallen so easily into his trap and giving him much more than just your attention at this point. But from the way his hands roam your body, grasping for more of you as he whines against your lips you smile to yourself at the realisation that really, he’s the one who’s fallen into your trap.

This sense of control is what finally calms your mind, even if it still struggles with just how ‘wrong’ all of this sounds against how right his lips on yours feel. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway however forces you to tear yourself away from him, though his hands don’t leave your body as you strain to figure out who it might be.

“Shit, it’s the teacher,” you say under your breath, pulling away from him to smooth down your skirt. Niki clearly doesn’t care, but still lets out a soft sigh as he hangs his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Tomorrow,” you continue suddenly, “I want the eyebrow piercing and the bleached hair gone.” You know you’re being harsh, but you also know that, given what just happened, you can’t afford to be nice.

“Wh-” he says suddenly, looking at you in disbelief, “I thought you liked them though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly, “they’re still breaking like ten different uniform rules.”

“Just when I thought I’d finally broken your guard down,” he groans.

“Well, they’ve served their purpose already, haven’t they?” you taunt lightly, bringing a hand up to swipe at your bottom lip which you can feel is a little plump from him biting it. His eyes watch attentively as you do, and he lets out a soft laugh followed by a nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he exhales, “but now I’m thinking if I keep them in I might keep getting lucky.”

“Niki,” you sigh.

“I mean, maybe if I had a reward for following rules I might feel more motivated,” he hums, looking away as he feigns innocence.

You pause, thinking to yourself for just long enough. “I’ll be studying in the library after school, maybe if you do as I say I’ll let you join me.”

“Studying? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile - one that you can’t help but share even as the same teacher who gave you both this detention comes in to tell you you’re free to go.

You watch as he swings his bag over one shoulder coolly, tossing you his signature smirk - only this time, it doesn’t just annoy you, it lingers, sticking to your thoughts in a way you don’t want to admit. Because you know you should be mad, you should roll your eyes and remind yourself that he’s still the same infuriating troublemaker. But as he walks away the only thing you find yourself wondering is if he’ll actually show up tomorrow, and worse, if a part of you wants him to.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 19

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 18 | Series Masterlist | Part 20

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: Your day out with your friends isn't as relaxing as you want it to be.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, drinking, suspected drugging, reference to stalking and violence, your friends are cheering you on, inner turmoil, stubborn reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You wished you could say you breathed easier as the limo pulled away, but you didn’t. You felt Bucky’s piercing eyes on you, watching until you were completely out of sight. He still wasn’t “out of sight, out of mind.” He made sure you’d think about him, and Ray was following in his vehicle. Even glancing quickly at the limo partition you could see that it was cracked. Was the driver one of Bucky’s men?

“Okay, so your new boyfriend is stupidly hot and loaded,” Dana said, her eyes darting around the limo. “You should be proud of yourself. Holy shit.”

“I should be proud of somehow snagging a hot and loaded guy?” you laughed a little. You always told yourself money wasn’t a factor as long as the love was there.

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.”

You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

The girls gasped. “Clothes, books, and a diamond necklace?! Yeah, be proud and fucking flaunt it,” Dana encouraged. She had to be half teasing since she knew that wasn’t your style. “Gina, Addison, back me up here.”

“We all know you aren’t going to flaunt any gift he gets you, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at you. He had hearts in his eyes,” Gina smiled. You tried to smile back. There were hearts alright, along with some darkness that they weren’t aware of. “I’m surprised he even looked at us.”

“Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with.

“Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

If being treated like a doll, having you followed, and showering you with affection while messing with your head was meant to make you happy… “He thinks we’re soulmates. That we were meant to find each other and be together. It’s… a lot,” you said carefully. “I haven’t had anyone who seems to need me the way he does, especially so quickly.”

“Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

You could’ve hugged her. Maybe she saw through some of the charade. If she did, that could also put her in danger if she spoke out.

“Or maybe he just knows what he wants and he’s an all in kind of guy,” Dana commented. She had no idea. “Wait! Have you two had sex?!”

“No, we haven’t had sex yet,” you answered. Just him jerking off over the phone and some heavy petting and jerking off again with you nearby. “But he really wants to sleep with me and I did ride his thigh,” you mumbled.

It was still clear as day in your head, how he encouraged you to get off, his lips against yours. You didn’t want to think about it, but Bucky got his way and invaded your thoughts. It was inevitable.

“Ahh! You beautiful slut! Thigh riding is so hot!” If anyone ever needed a hype girl or enabler, Dana was the one to call. “And what are you waiting for?! Let him fuck you and eat your kitty. Do it for us.”

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

You were trying to wait, but it was only a matter of time before you had to sleep with him. “It’s just…”

“Are you worried that his feelings will fade once you two have sex?” Gina asked.

“I’m not worried about his feelings diminishing,” you said with complete sincerity. His feelings wouldn’t waver, even if his actions screamed love-bombing. “I just… I guess I never pictured myself dating someone who owns a nightclub. He just seems out of my league.”

And he was someone who had very dangerous ties.

“No, we don’t put ourselves down here. Every league is your league, and he should be honored to be your guy.” Dana clapped her hands together. “Ooh! What if we do a big date night at his club? We bring our guys, and we can all hang out?”

Your eyes widened. “I… Maybe,” you replied. It would just be another chance for Bucky to charm them, and it felt like you’d be asking him for a favor by letting your friends in. He’d probably love it.

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

You were on the verge of tears. They were happy for you, but didn't seem to notice your discomfort. You didn’t blame them. Not at all. It was your fault for not being truthful about the true nature of your relationship. That wedge you imagined Bucky was trying to drive between you and your friends felt real and they didn't even know.

“As fun as it is talking about Bucky, maybe we can talk about something else?” you smiled, nudging Addison. You didn’t want this whole day to be about Bucky and your relationship. “Your big day is getting closer.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiled.

You relaxed in the seat when the conversation shifted to the wedding and found yourself smiling and laughing through the rest of the ride. Bucky still lingered in your mind since he’d be at the wedding. The nice part was that since you were in the bridal party, he couldn’t spend the entire day with you.

“We’re here!” Addison smiled as the limo eventually came to a stop.

You were the last to get out and you took a deep breath. The winery was the perfect mix of relaxation, beauty, and good vibes. The lush vineyard stretched across the hills, and you wished for a moment you could run through them and disappear. The sun on your face brought you back to the present and made you smile, and you couldn't wait to sample some wine with the girls. You had a right to enjoy your time.

“You coming?” Dana asked.

“You two go ahead. We’ll be right in,” Addison said, linking her arm with yours and leading you away from the limo. You tensed up only for a moment when you saw Ray’s vehicle in the distance. It didn’t look completely out of place though since there were other cars and people around. “Okay, what’s up? You seem on edge.”

“I do?” you asked. You thought she didn’t notice, and you should’ve known better.

“Yeah. Is it work? Or is it about Bucky?” You tensed up again. “Did you think we wouldn’t like him?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just a lot really fast, that’s all,” you said, leaning in to whisper, “I didn’t want to say it in the limo, but he wants me to move in with him.”

She stopped walking. “Whoa. Okay, that is fast, but some couples do move quickly in whirlwind romances, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely out of the ordinary. Brady and I knew right away that we wanted to be together,” she said. What she had with Brady was pure, and you could’ve possibly had that with Bucky in another life. “Maybe Dana’s right that he just knows what he wants and he wants to go all in.”

“He’s very much all in,” you agreed.

“Are you considering moving in with him?”

“Maybe,” you said. Bucky was going to force his hand either way.

“Wow. If you’re considering that it’s either because you’re going along with what he wants or you really care about him. I hope it’s the latter,” she said, her brows pinching in concern. “But, listen, if you aren’t ready for that, he has to understand you haven’t dated in some time and you should go at the pace that makes you feel comfortable. I’m sure he’ll understand and it shouldn’t change how he feels.”

Your words caught in your throat. The pace wasn’t yours to control, even if Natasha said you had power. There was no choice in moving in and you wish you could blurt out every single thing that transpired, but the words refused to come out. Because all you could think about was what would happen to Addison, and she didn’t deserve any kind of pain.

“And if I do care about him and want to move in?” you asked.

“You know we’ll support whatever you do, but think about it carefully because that’s a big step. And if things go south, you tell us right away so we can help,” she said, giving you a small smile. “He may be your boyfriend, but you’re still my best friend and I was here first. I’ll smack him with a frying pan if he messes up.”

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased.

“Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Ray kept a respectable distance from your table and didn’t make eye contact as he pretended to read while sipping his drink. You were glad for that since your friends didn’t seem to take notice of him as you all ate and sampled various wines. Though you were having a great time, you hardly drank a drop. You wanted to stay on guard in case Bucky decided to crash the outing.

“Oh, we need to take a bottle of this home,” Dana said, pointing at her empty glass. “And where the hell is your cousin?!”

“She bailed.” Addison rolled her eyes. “That's exactly why she’s not in the wedding party. I can’t rely on her.”

“That and she’s a bitch,” Dana said unapologetically while pointing at you. “We know she would’ve said something shitty about you and Bucky, and we don’t need that bad energy.”

You scoffed. Addison’s cousin was the type who always had to one-up someone or try to tear them down so she felt better about herself. You tried to see the best in others, but you were admittedly glad she wasn’t there today. “I’m sure she’ll have something to say at the wedding.”

“If she does say anything, don’t listen to her,” Addison urged. “Or say something back to shut her down.”

“Rub it in her face how hot and rich Bucky is,” Dana grinned, nudging you with her elbow. “Her head will explode.”

You inhaled. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Everything went back to him, and you had to say something. “You know what I should tell her?” You smiled as they listened expectantly. “I should tell her that even though Bucky is rich and handsome and could have anyone he wants, he stalked me and coerced me into being his girlfriend. You think her head will still explode, or will she just laugh?”

The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Dana laughed so hard she wheezed. “You don’t understand. I need you to tell her that just to see the look on her face. Please. I beg of you.”

“And make sure Bucky’s in on the joke, too,” Gina giggled.

Your heart sank. Their safety came first, but the reaction was another reason you didn’t say anything. Who would possibly believe you? He was a rich and powerful man and you were merely a florist. “Maybe I can say something that’s not quite so dark,” you smiled.

Addison stared at you curiously before she shook her head. “You and your sense of humor,” she teased, drinking the rest of her glass. “But if you could shut her up, I’ll be thankful.”

Your phone dinged before you could respond, and you almost spit up the little wine you had when you saw a message from Bucky.

“Call me. Now.”

Direct. No sweet words. Oh, no.

“Is that your loverboy?” Dana wiggled her eyebrows.

“As a matter of fact it is and he’s asking for me to call him. Do you mind if…”

“Go. We’ll be right here,” Addison smiled.

Your legs felt a bit rubbery as you walked outside and took a look around to make sure no one was nearby. What if he had a bug in your phone and he heard what you said? Oh, God. You were so stupid.

Pressing his name on your phone, you let out a shaky breath when he immediately picked up. “Kotyonok, I need you to come back,” he replied, his tone stern. Upset.

You swallowed. God, he did hear you. You could convince him it was a joke, right? No one had to get hurt. “Why, what’s wrong?” you asked, your tone remarkably calm. “We aren’t done with our samples.”

“You were followed to Addison’s this morning by one of Zemo’s men. Ray and I both spotted him.” There were muffled noises in the background. “I just finished… talking to him.”

“I was followed?” you whispered, your heart sinking for a completely different reason now. The day you went out with your friends someone followed you? “What did he want?”

“I can explain more later, but he had a ‘look, but don’t touch’ order. I broke his fingers anyway.” You closed your eyes. He sounded proud of himself. “I have some business to attend to for the rest of the day and I have to go to the club after, which is why I need you back at home.”

Ray appearing behind you almost made you drop your phone. “Jesus, Ray,” you gasped, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, briefly resting a hand on your shoulder. “Boss messaged me to bring you home.”

“Yeah, I’m talking to him right now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “And I’m not going home right now. I'm not leaving.”

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-”

“Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I painted the very target on your back by falling for you? I’m well aware of that fact, but I’m also the one who can keep you safe.” He sounded almost as vulnerable as he did when he talked about his mom. “So just… come home.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Home. “You know, there are a lot of dangerous people out there who have families and loved ones. And I’m sure some of them are blissfully unaware of what goes on behind the scenes, but not all of them are. Some are very well aware of what their partners do for a living because they were told what they were getting into.”

“Kotyonok-”

“But you didn’t, Bucky. You didn’t let me know what I was getting into. One look at me and you made the decision for me and sealed my fate,” you continued, looking sadly at Ray. “So while I’m thinking of you today like you wanted, I want you to think of me and that target you painted on my back and my loved ones. And think about if you really love me the way you say you do.”

“I do love you,” he breathed. It would be nice to believe that. “Come home, please, and we’ll talk when I get back from the club.”

“I’m finishing the day with my friends. Ray will stay here with me. I also need to go to my place before I go to the penthouse,” you said. If he wanted you there so badly, he could bend a bit since you were in no direct danger at the moment. “And don’t expect a happy conversation like we had this morning.”

One step forward, two steps back.

“I’ll just be happy that you’re safe,” he said, which only infuriated you more. You couldn’t make out what he ordered to someone else, but the muffled noises picked up again. “Leave in thirty minutes. The driver will drop your friends off and he’ll take you to the apartment. Ray will take you home from there.”

“Two hours,” you stated just to be stubborn.

“One hour,” he countered. “Or I’ll drive there myself.”

You huffed, but didn’t want to test him. “Fine. I’ll leave in one hour.” The girls would understand if you made some excuse.

“Thank you,” he exhaled. He really did sound relieved. “I love you. I’ll see you later this evening.”

You waited a beat. “Think about what I said.” Ray waited patiently as you hung up. “Have I told you that your boss is a pain in the ass?”

“He certainly is, but he is correct that your safety is important,” he agreed, gently stopping you before you went back inside. “If you aren’t in the limo in one hour, he will come after you.”

“I know,” you sighed. Bucky would be dramatic like that. And protective. “Someone was really following me?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky had no reason to lie unless he was trying to get you away from your friends.

Ray nodded solemnly. “It could’ve been to report your movements back to Zemo, but I’d have to ask the boss for more details since I didn’t get to interrogate him myself.”

“I do appreciate you both spotting him,” you complimented, even if Bucky violently handled it. You shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Of course.” There was a ghost of a smile on his face. “You were wrong, you know.”

Your brows pinched. “About what?”

“Your strength. You handled that well all things considered,” he answered.

“You’re only saying that because you can’t read my mind,” you said. It was a mess. But you hadn’t broken down or cried, so that was a plus.

For a moment you thought he’d laugh, but he merely nodded to the building. “Better go join your friends before they miss you.”

“Thanks, Ray,” you whispered, putting a smile back on your face as you walked back inside and headed back to the table.

Addison held up two fingers. “You missed two more rounds of samples.”

“I guess I'll have to catch up,” you teased. “And would anyone object to leaving in an hour? Bucky’s planning a romantic evening for the two of us, and I need to stop by my apartment before I head over to his place,” you said. It was partially true. “If you all want to stay, I’ll get an uber and you can take the limo.”

“An hour’s fine.” Dana blinked a few times. “Anyone else tired? I’m a little tired.”

Gina covered her mouth when she yawned. “Yeah, I am, too.”

“I feel fine,” you said, frowning when Addison yawned, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but a nap sounds good right about now,” she said, pushing her now empty glass away and checking the time. “It is kind of late. It’ll be night time when we get back.”

You stared at your own glass, dread filling your stomach. You felt perfectly fine, but they looked tired. Was it possible that someone slipped something in their drinks or food? Did Ray do something or did Bucky set something up in order to make you leave? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Is everyone okay?” you asked. It felt like too much of a coincidence that they all felt tired after you came back to the table. “Should we just leave right now?”

“I’m fine. I was just up really late last night,” Addison answered. Dana and Gina nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should cut back on the samples and stick with water,” you suggested.

“You’ve always been the sensible one,” Dana said, resting her chin in her hand. “But can we still buy some bottles?”

“Yeah. As many as we want,” you promised. Bucky did say he’d spoil you, so why not?

Exactly one hour later, you were back in the limo with the girls and plenty of bottles. Unlike the ride over, the ride back was much quieter. You thought Addison would fall asleep on your shoulder at one point and Dana actually did fall asleep at one point for a few minutes. They somehow didn’t stumble on the way to the limo, and it would’ve impressed you if you weren’t so worried.

“Are you sure you girls are okay? Should we go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Why would we do that? We drank more at my bachelorette party than we did today. We’re fine,” Addison assured you. “You worry too much.”

You had good reason to worry. “This sounds crazy, but did you drug my friends? I need to know if I should take them to the hospital.” you messaged Bucky. If he did something to them…

He typed something back right away. “How could I possibly drug your friends when I wasn’t there? Is everyone okay?”

Did he actually care? “I’m fine, but they’re very drowsy and I’m worried.”

“Ray kept me updated and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. None of Zemo’s men were there. I didn't do anything either. Did any of them complain that they were dizzy? Nauseous? Did anyone pass out?”

“No, but it could've been something like Benadryl to make them drowsy and get me to possibly leave faster.” Or punish you by mentioning the stalking thing, if he knew, and show you that his reach expanded beyond the city.

“That’s a very creative method to get you to leave, but lots of wine can make anyone drowsy and I have no reason to do that to your friends. I think our conversation may have scared you a bit since Zemo had someone watching you and you’re understandably worried for your friends.”

You looked around at your friends. They did drink a lot more wine than you, and drugging people didn’t seem to be Bucky’s style. Zemo’s men weren’t there. Maybe you were being paranoid and the girls really were just tired. Being part of Bucky’s circle just made you question everything.

“Okay. I’m trusting you.” You had to.

“Thank you. Your worry aside, it sounds like you girls had fun though from what I heard. Maybe the next day out can be at my club. Could be fun.”

You gasped. Did he know what Dana suggested? No, no, no. You weren’t falling down that rabbit hole, and didn’t send any texts back for the rest of the drive.

Brady and the other guys were waiting on the curb when the limo stopped at Addison’s. You were the only one who didn’t get out, but you gave each of them hugs and helped hand out the wine to their significant others. They seemed a bit more awake, so maybe they were just fine. “Love you girls. And, guys, keep an eye on them. They had quite a few samples,” you said. You’d have to text each of them later to check on them.

“Love you,” the girls echoed before the door shut.

The driver headed in the direction of your place after a minute. What were you going to say to Bucky when you saw him? Would you scream at him for putting you in danger, or would you just accept that this was your life? It was a continuous losing battle the more you fought.

The morning you had with Bucky, minus the groping, had been somewhat nice. Could it be like that all the time if you tried? Could it be better if he loosened the reins?

“Thank you,” you said when the limo stopped and the partition rolled down a few inches. “How much do I owe you?”

“Mr. Barnes took care of that, miss, but if you’ll allow me-”

“Oh, no. Please don’t get out. I got it,” you smiled, letting yourself out. You scanned the street for Ray’s car, but didn’t see it. He was likely waiting for the limo to pull away.

Two steps into your building, your phone dinged. “What now?” you muttered when you opened a text from Bucky.

“Ray got a flat tire. Stay in the limo.”

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

You couldn’t breathe when you found a pair of blue eyes staring at you. “Clark… what are you doing here?”

Oh, I hope you lovelies are prepared for the next part. And what do we think of your friends? And were they just drowsy or did something happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ducktoo]

Cheeky

IVE’s An Yujin x M!Reader

Note: Thank u @mintwithchoco for the prompt! It was fun to write this! (I might have post it a bit early but It's a bit too fluff to rot in the jail-

Hope yall got enough dose of lethal Yujin. Here’s a cutie Yujin for yall

(Can this woman not make me blush every single time-)

You have heard many opinions about An Yujin through her online exposure. Gorgeous yet strict, a natural professional and one of the most popular idols in the business.

So when you got hired as a personal bodyguard to IVE, you knew you had to be in your best behaviour. You were expecting a professional introduction. Maybe a polite handshake, a simple exchange of names, and a respectful nod—just like how it had been with every other client before.

But no. Instead, the first thing you got was laughter.

Loud, unabashed laughter.

You had barely stepped into the practice room, clad in your sharp black suit with an earpiece securely in place, when Yujin spun around mid-dance routine, caught sight of you, and nearly collapsed from laughing too hard.

"Oh my god, you look so serious!" She practically wheezed, hands on her knees.

You blinked, your professional composure wavering just slightly. That’s not the usual reaction.

"...Excuse me?"

She straightened up, still giggling, and gave you a once-over. "You're my new bodyguard, right? Wow, we’re the same age, but you look like you’re about to arrest me or something."

Yujin wiped at the corner of her eyes and grinned as she strolled up to you, radiating the kind of unbothered energy that made your brow twitch. Well this is…going to be a pain.

"Well at least I do look the part, no?" you asked, straightening your vest as you clear your throat . "I’m literally here to keep you safe."

"Oh, I’m very grateful." Yujin smirked, stepping closer with a mischievous glint in her eye. "But I was kinda hoping for someone... I don’t know, scarier? You look way too nice."

You stared at her, unimpressed. "I can be scary."

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "Prove it."

You sighed and took a step forward, dropping your voice into a low, stern tone. "If you don't follow security protocol, I will personally make sure you regret it."

For a moment, Yujin's eyes widened, and you thought—just for a second—that she would actually take you seriously.

Then she grinned even wider.

“Ohhh,” she mused, stepping even closer, her face just inches from yours. “I like you already.”

You had a very bad feeling about this.

-

If you had known what was coming, you would’ve quit on the spot.

An Yujin, despite her public image of being a charming, responsible leader, was actually a menace.

If she wasn’t sneaking off to buy snacks at the nearby convenience stores without telling anyone, she was hiding behind doors just to jump-scare you. And the worst part? The other IVE members had joined in on it…but mostly Yujin.

"Come on, just one smile," Yujin teased one afternoon, poking your cheek while you stood guard by the van. "You've been with us for months, and I still haven't seen you laugh."

You exhaled through your nose. "My job is to protect you, not to entertain you."

"That’s so boring. How do you survive without fun?"

"By keeping a certain someone out of trouble." You shot her a pointed look.

Yujin gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Wow. Is that how you see me? Just a walking headache?"

You opened your mouth—because yes she was a giant headache to you—but she cut you off, suddenly leaning in way too close.

"What if I am your problem, huh?" she whispered, eyes glinting with playful challenge.

You held your ground, staring her down. "...Then I'll have to handle you accordingly, I suppose."

Instead of backing off, Yujin grinned wider. "I’d like to see you try."

Oh, she was insufferable. And unfortunately, you were stuck with her.

-

"You know," Yujin drawled, stretching across the couch in the waiting room like a cat in the sun. One arm hung off the side lazily, while the other rested behind her head, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "I think you like me more than you let on."

You sighed, already used to her antics. "What makes you think that?"

Her lips curled upward, slow and knowing, like she had already won whatever game she was playing. "Because I'm fun. And charming. And incredibly good-looking." She struck an exaggerated pose, tilting her chin up dramatically like some kind of historical monarch.

Across the room, Wonyoung groaned, rubbing her temples. "Unnie, please. Have some dignity."

"You don’t want me to tell the truth?" Yujin gasped, clutching her chest in mock devastation, her mouth slightly parted as if she had just been personally attacked.

"I don't want you to embarrass us in front of our bodyguard," Wonyoung corrected, glancing at you apologetically.

You just shook your head, lips pressing into a thin line. "I'm used to it."

Yujin’s eyes flickered with amusement, but instead of making another joke, her expression softened just slightly—like she had caught something in your tone that intrigued her. Then, just as quickly, the mischief returned. "See? That's basically an admission that you enjoy my company."

You gave her a deadpan look. "That is not what I said."

"Too late, I'm taking it as fact." She stretched her arms over her head, looking far too pleased with herself.

You exhaled through your nose, choosing to ignore her. If there was one thing you'd learned about An Yujin, it was that engaging with her nonsense only fuelled her further.

But despite all her teasing and the way she constantly pushed your buttons, there were moments when she reminded you why she was the leader of IVE.

Like now.

Liz sat in the corner of the room, staring down at her phone with her lips pressed into a tight line. She was fidgeting, her hands twisting together in her lap—a stark contrast to the usual easygoing energy she carried.

Yujin noticed instantly. Her playful expression melted away, replaced by something steadier. More grounded. She pushed herself off the couch, crossing the room in a few quick strides before crouching beside Liz.

"Jiwonie," she called softly, nudging her knee against Liz’s. "What’s up?"

Liz hesitated before sighing. "I feel like I keep messing up my parts in the choreography."

Yujin tilted her head, studying her with an unreadable expression. Then, instead of immediately reassuring her, she took a moment. Just a beat of silence—enough to let Liz’s words settle before responding.

"You don’t," Yujin said firmly. "We practiced together, remember? You’re doing fine."

"But—"

"No buts." Yujin stood up, walked over, and slung an arm around Liz’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You know what I told you? The best performers aren’t the ones who get everything perfect all the time. They’re the ones who keep going no matter what."

Liz still looked uncertain, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "You really think so?"

"I know so." Yujin grinned. "Besides, if you mess up, I’ll just mess up too. That way, we’re both in trouble."

"That’s a terrible encouragement," you muttered.

Yujin turned her head slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, and the glint in her eyes was back. The glint. The one that usually meant trouble.

"It’s called leadership," Yujin shot back. "Ever heard of it?"

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head, but you didn’t argue. Liz was smiling now, and that was proof enough that whatever Yujin was doing was working. She had a way of lifting her members’ spirits that was genuinely impressive.

Liz laughed, looking much more relaxed. "Thanks, unnie."

"Anytime," Yujin replied, patting her head before making her way back to her spot on the couch. As she passed you, she glanced up, smirking.

"See? I'm not just a pain in your ass."

"I never said that," you replied, but she only winked before plopping back onto the couch like she hadn’t just effortlessly reassured one of her members.

You sighed. Protecting An Yujin was exhausting… but you didn’t mind as much as you pretended to.

-

Your day off. A rare and precious thing.

You had been looking forward to it—no earpiece, no schedule to follow, no six-foot radius of hyper-vigilance around an overgrown puppy disguised as an idol. Just a quiet, peaceful day to yourself.

Or so you thought.

The realization hit you like a cruel joke when you spotted her.

An Yujin. Hoodie up, mask on, but you’d recognize her anywhere. The way she walked, slightly loose-limbed and confident, like the world was hers to navigate. The way she hummed under her breath as she glanced at store signs, completely unaware of how reckless she was being.

You groaned under your breath. Of course.

But before you could even question why she was out alone, without security, without backup, you saw him. A man. Mid-thirties. Dark hoodie. His posture was too stiff, his steps too calculated. He lingered a few feet behind Yujin, never overtaking her, never slowing down. His gaze flickered to her every few seconds, fingers twitching slightly as if waiting for something.

Your instincts kicked in immediately.

You followed her into a convenience store, keeping to the shelves as she strolled past the snack aisle. She had no idea. Her biggest concern at the moment was probably whether to get banana milk or iced coffee—completely oblivious to the shadow tailing her.

He lingered near the entrance, pretending to look at snacks but never actually picking anything up. His eyes were locked on Yujin, and his fingers twitched like he was waiting for the right moment.

Sasaeng. Your stomach turned cold.

You moved fast.

The moment Yujin left the store, you followed right behind. And just as the man reached out—

You grabbed his wrist. Tight.

A sharp intake of breath. The man's head snapped toward you, eyes widening in shock and irritation.

"The hell—?" he hissed, jerking back, but you didn’t let go.

Yujin spun around, startled. "Huh?—"

"Good afternoon, mister." You pulled her behind you instinctively, keeping your grip on the man. "I don’t know what you think you’re doing," you said, voice low and firm, "but walk away. Now."

The man scowled, trying to yank his arm free. "Who the hell are you?"

"Her bodyguard," you answered coldly. "And if you don’t leave in the next five seconds, you won’t like what happens next."

A flicker of hesitation. His eyes darted between you and Yujin, who was standing rigid behind you now, her usual carefree energy drained into something tense and alert.

Then, finally, the man sneered and yanked his arm free. "Tch. Not worth it," he muttered before disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there for a moment, making sure he was really gone, before exhaling.

And then you remembered the girl behind you.

"So…what the hell?" you snapped, turning to her. "Why are you alone?"

She blinked up at you, wide-eyed, still processing what just happened. "Uh…"

"You know how dangerous this is, right?" Your voice was sharper than usual, the adrenaline still running through you. "No staff, no backup, no security. What were you thinking?"

Yujin finally seemed to snap out of it, rubbing the back of her neck. "...I just wanted to go out for a bit. I didn’t want to bother anyone."

Your fists clenched, the lingering adrenaline making your chest feel too tight. "You call this not bothering anyone? You're lucky I decided to go out right now you dunce."

She hesitated, shifting on her feet. Then, in a small voice, she admitted, "I didn’t even realize he was following me."

You exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Yujin," you muttered, softer this time, "this is exactly why you can’t go out alone. It’s not about you wanting freedom, it’s about your safety. There are people out there who—" You stopped, shaking your head. "Just... don’t do this again."

Silence stretched between you for a few seconds before Yujin suddenly smiled.

It wasn’t her usual teasing grin. It was softer. Almost... grateful.

"You really do care about me, huh?"

You groaned. "That’s what you’re taking from this?"

Her lips twitched, and just like that, the mischievous glint in her eyes was back. She nudged your arm playfully. "Admit it. You’d miss me if I got kidnapped."

"Don't make me use profanity you—"

"Fine, fine!" She laughed, hands up in surrender. But then she let out a breath, gaze flickering down for a second before meeting yours again, more earnest this time.

"Seriously, though," she murmured. "Thanks. I mean it."

You watched her for a moment, noting the way her usual carefree mask had cracked just a little. The way her eyes, despite the teasing, held something like genuine gratitude. She nudged you playfully. "Guess I owe you one, huh?"

"More like you owe me about a hundred at this point," you muttered, finally relaxing.

Yujin grinned. "Then I’ll start by buying you lunch. C’mon, bodyguard. Let’s eat."

And despite everything, despite the fact that this was supposed to be your day off, you found yourself walking beside her, watching her laugh like nothing had happened.

-

You should’ve known saving An Yujin would have consequences.

Not in the form of a promotion or a bonus (though you wouldn’t say no to either), but in the absolute menace she had become ever since that day.

At first, you thought you were imagining things—the longer stares, the way her lips curled mischievously whenever she caught your eye, the subtle brushes of her fingers against your arm whenever she passed by.

Then, the touches became more deliberate. The teasing got more frequent. The closeness is more unbearable.

It was like a switch had flipped. Suddenly, your personal space was no longer yours. And the worst part? She did it so naturally, like she had always been this clingy with you.

Just like this one morning at the company building—

"Mr. Bodyguaaard~" Yujin sang as she threw an arm over your shoulders, completely ignoring the amused stares of the staff around you. "Walk me to the practice room!"

You exhaled. "Yujin, You know I’m going there anyway."

"But this way is more fun." She tightened her grip, practically hanging off you.

You gave her a look. "...Do you have to be this close?"

"Yes," she said simply, grinning.

It only got worse after a long schedule. You were expecting Yujin to slump in exhaustion like she usually did. Instead, the moment she climbed into the van, she scooted over without hesitation, settling in way too close before dropping her head onto your shoulder with a satisfied sigh.

Your entire body stiffened.

"What are you doing?" you asked, voice flat, not daring to move.

"Getting comfortable," she mumbled, shifting slightly as if trying to mold herself against you.

Your brow twitched. "You have an entire seat to yourself."

"But I don’t want to sit alone," she said simply, eyes fluttering shut. "You’re warm."

Across from you, Wonyoung and Liz exchanged knowing looks.

"Oh no," Gaeul muttered, covering her mouth to hide a laugh.

"I don’t get it," Wonyoung whispered, glancing between you and Yujin. "Since when were they this close?"

Liz smirked. "Since someone got rescued and suddenly realized how cool their bodyguard is."

You sighed. "I heard that, Jiwon."

"I'm glad you did," Liz cheekily shot back.

Meanwhile, Yujin hummed in contentment, completely ignoring the stares and the muffled giggles of her members. As if your shoulder was the perfect place to rest, she nestled in further, her soft breath fanning against your neck.

You felt heat creep up your collar.

"...Heavy," you muttered, shifting slightly.

"Comfy," she countered with a teasing lilt, her lips curling into a lazy grin.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Gaeul shaking her head. "This is getting dangerous."

Liz, meanwhile, giggled behind her hand. "We should start selling tickets to this slow-burn romance."

You groaned. Yujin? She just smirked.

Her clingy antics doesn't stop in the comfort of their dorm, unfortunately. Before their music show performance, you were standing near the dressing room door, waiting for the members to finish.

And then the door swung open.

Yujin strolled out like she was making a grand entrance, her hair freshly styled, her makeup flawless—looking every bit the idol she was.

And then, in one smooth motion, she reached out, grabbed your hand, and laced her fingers with yours.

Your brain lagged.

"Let’s go, mister!" she announced.

You blinked. "Why are you holding my hand—?"

"You saved me, so now I’m keeping you close!" she said cheerfully. "You're my lucky charm!"

Behind her, Leeseo’s jaw dropped. Liz and Rei had to turn away to hide their laughter.

"Yujin," you hissed under your breath, trying to pull away.

She only tightened her grip.

"Nope," she said. "Mine now."

You could physically feel Wonyoung’s migraine forming. "You cannot just say that out loud," Wonyoung groaned, covering her face.

"I just did." Yujin smirked, swinging your intertwined hands slightly, watching your reaction with delight.

Liz and Rei lost it, muffling their laughter behind their hands.

At that moment, a staff member walked by, did a double-take at your very obvious hand-holding situation, and nearly tripped.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

-

You really should have been more prepared for this.

It happened at the airport, in front of dozens of fans, reporters, and flashing cameras.

You were walking beside Yujin, scanning the crowd for any potential threats, keeping a careful distance—when suddenly—

"Honey~!"

You froze. The world stopped.

Gasps. Shrieks. Camera flashes directly in your face.

Even the security personnel ahead of you paused.

Your entire being short-circuited. "What did you just call me?"

Yujin, completely unbothered, turned to you with an innocent smile. "Honey~" she repeated, her voice sweet as sugar.

Wonyoung, Gaeul, and Rei screamed.

 Leeseo was flabbergasted, with Liz quickly covering the youngest's ear from behind.

Even the fans were losing their minds.

"OH MY GOD—"

"WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY—"

"HUH?!?!?"

"YUJIN CALLED HER BODYGUARD HONEY?!?!"

"What. The. Hell. Yujin?!" Your ears burned with embarrassment. "Are you trying to make me headline Dispatch?"

"You take care of me," Yujin said smoothly, not missing a beat. "You protect me, you make sure I eat, you saved my life—so obviously, you're my honey."

"You cannot just say that out loud in public," you hissed, absolutely mortified.

"But I just did," she replied with a grin, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You quickly cover her mouth, frantically trying to damage control. "STOP!!!!"

At this point, Wonyoung had buried her face in her hands, physically unable to process what was happening. Gaeul was bent over, wheezing. Rei looked like she was watching the most dramatic plot twist unfold in real life.

A fan nearby whispered to their friend, "Do you think they’re dating?"

You nearly collapsed.

And Yujin?

She just tugged on your sleeve, eyes filled with amusement, and smiled. "Come on, honey. Let’s go."

And as you caught the knowing grins of her members, the delighted chaos among the fans, and the sheer horror on your own face reflected in the airport glass, you realized something.

You didn’t just save An Yujin.

You unleashed a monster.

[prettyboykatsuki]

MY LOVE, MY ALIBI | CALEB | XIA YIZHOU (LNDS)

♡ tags ; psuedocest / adoptive incest, afab + fem!reader, minor age-gap (3 years), mentions / non graphic depictions of child abuse (from readers days in the orphanage), childhood crushing, mutual pining, developing relationship, size difference, some religious imagery, loss of virginity, petnames (baby, princess, pipsquak), use of meimei once and gege a few times but very sparing, oral (f!recieving), nipple play, marking, light masochism from reader, mouth-spitting, fingering, bare-backing, 18+

♡ wc ; 23.3k (kill me)

♡ a/n ; hey. this is an incest fic for adoptive siblings. if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. block me if you need to. please spare me lecture.

also - i have reader be carried by caleb a couple of times but dude has a bionic arm so he's strong as shit to me. the size difference tag is mostly about his dick. aside from the carrying there is no phyiscal indicators for reader

important to the fic but i play in simplified cn. please go listen to the simplified cn voice actor before you read this. for my sanity. most of my characterization is based on various cn translations from the kind cn fanbase. special thank you to mao @/yinyuedijun and this yt channel.

♡ synopsis ; for as long as you can remember, the sight of caleb's back is whats made you feel safest. it's no surprise that every man that comes after him never quite measures up.

extended authors note. | caleb playlist | ao3 | tipjar

PART ONE: ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

At seven, you knock out one of your teeth roughhousing with one of the orphanage boys. 

The good news? You’re winning. You’re at the age where size matters more than gender but the boy you’re fighting is both bigger and older than you. 

Even so, you manage to pull off shoving him back.

You don’t know his name, only his face— buzzed head and red gums, the pristine picture of anger. You roll around with him in the small stretch of yard behind the orphanage - white tanktop stained with grass, all knobby knees and short limbs as you fight and fight and fight with every ounce of your strength. 

You are seven with something to prove and a lot already lost. Your pride refuses to let you lose further. You recieve a hit of adrenaline when you launch the top of your head into the older boys chin and hear his teeth clack from how hard it lands. He collapses in a pile, spits curses he learned from the grown-ups that come in and out as he lays there.

He nearly jumps you when you’re both down. Your head is throbbing where his chin connected and you can tell if he decides to fight you again, your chances of winning have slimmed significantly.

You see it in his eyes. In his face. He’s so angry. Always is. You knew it was a bad idea to provoke him to begin with. 

He nearly, nearly jumps you and almost knocks you out completely. 

So you decide it might be better to prepare for it. You fold up. Put your arms up high and brace for impact when a shadow - long, endless, casts over your head. Eyes half open, a familiar pair of beat-up sneakers stand in front of you in the grass. You hear a familiar voice. It’s colder than you’re used to.

“Bullying a little kid is lame,” Caleb says, sharp. It makes you shrink further even though it’s not directed at you. “Quit fighting or I’ll get one of the grown-ups.” 

You can’t see what's in front of you. You only hear a shock of gasps around you—another confrontation that quickly settles into silence before Caleb turns around. 

His face is soft as he bends down to be eye level. Kind, boyish, gentle - he opens up his arms. He’s not happy about something. You can tell because his smile is a little dimmer than normal. You desperately hope it isn’t because of you. 

Even knowing Caleb is going to scold you a bit, you find yourself welling up in tears from relief even over fear. You wail as you wrap your arms around his neck and Caleb hoists you up and carries you on his hip like you’re still a baby.

He’s silent as he carries you into the house. 

“You shouldn’t get into fights,” He says, soothing. You sniffle as he walks you inside. His shirt smells like summer, hands fisted in it. Holding on for dear life.  Call for me next time.” 

Caleb sits you on the mattress, in the room all the older kids share. Your feet don’t touch the ground as he kneels in front of you and rifles around under his bed. He has bandages and alcohol, cotton swabs and gauze. 

His eyes are kind as he assesses your wounds. Pours alcohol onto a cotton pad and frowns each time you sniffle and sob from the pain of getting them cleaned. “A crybaby like you shouldn’t fight anyone, seriously.” 

“Shut up,” You say first. You hang your head low, instant regret. Your hands close again, blunt nails digging into your palms. Your lower lip trembles. Caleb quickly puts a hand on the top of your head when he notices your distress. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Just depend on me, alright?” He grins with the same front tooth missing. Like a mirror image of you, you think. “I’ll always help you.” 

__

At ten, you give up celebrating your birthday. 

You’re the age Caleb was when you met and now you’ve both left the orphanage and lived away from it for a few years. You’ve spent nearly three years with a woman you call Grandma and the world feels a lot kinder with her in your life. She takes good care of you. Gives you a warm bed to sleep in, and good food to eat. Doesn’t get angry when you break cups or get up in the middle of the night to go pee.

You live in a house with only three people and you even get to have your own room—one you don’t have to share, not even with Caleb. It’s nice to sleep where there’s no one else, even if most nights you crawl into Caleb’s bed anyway and sleep next to him because it's more comfortable.

Grandma is nice to you. Sometimes, she looks like she’s somewhere far away but it never lasts for long. You’re thankful to her for taking you in. 

You have a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, and Caleb is right next to you. He’s your brother now, so you can be together forever. And none of the adults from the orphanage are here to punish him anymore when he tries to protect you. 

You’re ten and the world seems to be trying its best not to hurt you any further. Somehow, this only makes you feel more uneasy. 

You’re happy. It scares you. You often wonder when someone will punish you for it. If someone will be blamed for allowing it. It makes you feel helpless when you think about it too long. 

But you have Caleb. He makes it easier. You can cling onto his shirt when it gets too hard. And he’s older now, enough to really feel grown up. 

A night, when you clutch the fabric until it stretches wide, trembling after you’re plagued by bad dreams - having nightmares of rusted rain, Caleb is there. 

No matter how deeply asleep, he always wakes up to hold you. 

( You wait for him to tell you that you’re too big to be getting scared over nightmares, but the day still hasn’t come. You hope it never does. You think you’d be so sad you would never stop crying. )

You’re ten, and the world seems kinder - but you know better by now. You try to take precautionary measures against letting it take everything from you again. 

And you start small. With yourself, and your birthday. 

You’ve only ever celebrated a few birthdays. In the orphanage they’d celebrate a lot at once, so it never felt very  special. You can’t really remember the ones you had before then, don’t remember much from then at all.  Since you’ve been adopted, Grandma has celebrated your birthday and made it special. She and Caleb cook your favorite meal together and you sit around and cut-cake afterwards. 

They even decorate the house with balloons and streamers.

Your birthdays now don’t compare to the ones you had then. 

Nothing bad is happening but still. You like celebrating your birthday. But, can you feel okay about getting to celebrate a birthday at all? When you thought for sure your life might end before then?

Before your eleventh birthday, you announce to your family that you don’t want to do anything special this year. When they probe you with questions about why not, you refuse to give up any answers.

Caleb is thirteen and heartbroken when he hears you say this. Asks questions even as you turn your nose up and refuse to answer. You get into a fight about it, one of the very first of your entire relationship. 

It’s that same night you begin to sleep in your own room. 

In the weeks leading up to your birthday, you find your house to be more quiet than usual. Caleb is busy with something but you blame yourself for the distance between you. He always comes back seeming tired. Even though he still pats your head and smiles at you the same way, you notice when he seems a little less there at the dinner time. 

When your birthday finally comes, your grandma still decides to celebrate it in a small way. She makes your favorite food and gets you a cake and candles. Hugs you when you cry about it, too. The only thing they skip is the decoration. 

(You’re brave though, when next year rolls around and tell them you miss it. It makes Caleb happy enough to hug you tight.)  

The warmth that fills your heart seeing your name in iced letters is too big for your body. You wonder if this is what having a family was like. 

At night time, after dinner and before you cut the cake - you open your presents. There’s two for your eleventh birthday. One from grandma and one from Caleb. Usually, they sign their gift to you together but this year they’re separate. 

At first, your heart sinks, but you try not to think about it. Grandma gets you a bike that matches Caleb’s so the two of you can ride together. You’re happy to have it but Caleb insists you can just keep riding on the back of his if you don’t want to learn. 

You open Caleb’s gift second. It’s wrapped in pretty paper with a bow on it so you undo it carefully. Inside of it is a plain looking box.  

“Open it,” 

There’s a pair of earrings and a necklace when you do. It’s not cheap plastic like all the other jewelry you’ve ever had in your life. Little apples covered in gemstones, and a little gold necklace with a pendant and a locket. Your eyes go wide, fingers trembling a little as you touch it. 

You look for Caleb’s face unthinkingly. Kind and warm, eyes crinkled and shoulders slack in relief when he sees your happy reaction. His hand is warm as it rests on your head, rubbing gently. 

“It took a while but I’ve been helping our neighbors for money so I could buy it for you,” Caleb says, looking down at you with an easy grin. “The day you were born is important for me, so don’t say that you won’t celebrate it from now on. Okay?” 

When tears well up in your eyes, you barely have to say a word before Caleb brings you into his waist. You cry to him the same way you always do - with a hand fisted in the back of his shirt like you’re terrified of where you’d end up if you let go.

Even when you ruin his shirt with salty tears, Caleb never voices a word of complaint. His steady heartbeat and warm hands that make you feel like he’s already done it all before, stay exactly where you expect them. 

Your dependable, kind older brother. 

__ 

At thirteen, you take your first field trip overnight. 

It takes a tremendous amount of effort to make it happen. 

Grandma was easy to convince, but it took you fourteen whole days to convince your brother that you could handle going on a school field trip without having your hand held the entire time. 

(You can still hear the amused, taunting lilt in his voice from when you first mentioned it. Sure you’ll be okay pipsqueak? My bed won’t be there for you to take over if you get scared, you know?)

Ugh. He can be so strict. An you swear he was even more stubborn about it than usual. 

You had to use every tactic in the book to get him to say yes. Kissing up to him, acting extra wistful, doing your chores and being super well-behaved. After strategically buttering him up for two weeks prior to you just asking, you also made sure to ask when he had one of his friends over. He’s strict regardless of who's around, but having another person in your corner is good for morale. 

(This method is effective for the record. Just as Caleb goes to turn you down, his friend throws an eraser at him and clicks his teeth. 

“There’s a limit to your siscon behavior. Just let her go.”

You sneak said friend a candy the next time he comes over as thanks.) 

After a lot of persistent begging, Caleb relents and allows Grandma to sign your permission slip. It’s an overnight trip sure—but it’s heavily supervised and rooms are separated by gender anyhow. You really don’t know what he was so worried about.

So far, the trip has been really fun. You went to a butterfly garden conservatory as a part of your science project and one landed on your nose. Your friend even managed to get a good picture. In the afternoon, you did a bit of sightseeing and got to buy some street food. 

When evening rolled around, you and all your friends holed up in the same hotel room sleeping together on one big floor. You stayed up a few hours later than you should���ve—gossiping and discussing the newest chapter of a very popular romance webnovel.  Most of them are out by the time the clock hits midnight. 

And now, you’re the last one awake at 1am. 

Unfortunately, no matter how long you try to sleep—it is hard to sleep away from home, knowing Caleb isn’t right down the hall. No matter how much the thought makes you frown. 

You’ve outgrown the habit of crawling into his bed every night. Still, you think you rest easier knowing that he’s there. You’d never admit it but subconsciously, it comforts you just knowing he is. The few times you get nightmares of the Chronorift these days, your nightmares are especially persistent. You don’t crawl into his bed like you did when you were a little kid as often as you used to. Even when you want it, it’s just a little embarrassing. 

Regardless though, he’ll stay up with you until it passes, and until you go back to to sleep. It’s the only thing that helps it go down easier some nights. That he’d be there no matter what happened. 

By the time the clock strikes one-thirty, you get the feeling you just won’t be able to sleep unless you at least call him. 

So, after carefully sneaking your phone out of your bag - you leave your hotel room to wander the halls and end up in the lobby in your PJs. 

You realize your incidental act of rebellion when you catch some stares from late-night guests. You hesitate on whether or not you should go back before deciding that’d be pointless. Fingers hovering over the call button, it takes a beat before you hit and hear the number dial. He’ll probably scold you but you know he’ll answer. 

He picks up in one ring. His voice is thick with sleep when he speaks. “It’s late. You should be asleep.” 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gege,” You say, crossing slippered feet against the tile of the hotel lobby floor. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice softens instantly. “Somethin’ happen?” 

You shake your head before realizing he can’t see you. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” A beat. “I thought I would sleep better if…I talked to…someone.” 

It’s too embarrassing to tell him you wanted to talk to him, specifically. Caleb is quiet on the other side of the line before he laughs, just a little. “You were so adamant on wanting to go with your friends, huh? I thought you’d be just fine. Were you being brave for show?.” 

You frown a little, groaning. “I did have fun. A lot of fun. We talked a lot before bed too, and now everyone else is asleep. It’s not like I regret going. And I wasn’t being brave, I was just—” 

“Sure, sure. Still can’t sleep unless you know I’m there, huh?” 

Silence stretches over the line. You feel your face grow hot with embarrassment as you stretch your legs out, chin tucked against your chest.  

“Maybe I should just hang up on you,” 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Caleb says more gently. “You can call me as much as you want.” 

“You’re being nice like when we were kids.” You observe. 

Caleb scoffs a little. “I’m always nice.” 

You roll your eyes and Caleb laughs like he knows you did it. It’s quiet again before he speaks. In the voice that makes him feel older than he is. “I’m worried about you so I’m being even nicer than usual. Is that okay?”

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s more to it than he lets on. You trace a pattern into the worn, fabric arm of the chair you sit in. “Why?” 

“I get worried when you go somewhere I can’t see you.” He says agreeably.

Your face tugs into a frown, strangely mortified by the sincerity of it. “It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I’ll be fourteen in a few months.”

Caleb laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be a kid.” 

You huff. “That’s not fair. Does that mean I’ll have to beg you like this to do anything for the rest of my life? You’re too much.” 

“At least until you turn eighteen.” Caleb replies, voice airy and content. “And if you’re still a little weakling then, probably a few more years after that too.” 

You groan. “How terrible. What kind of brother are you? So cruel.” You pause  “You’re more like my dad sometimes.” 

“Since you’re my responsibility, I usually have to act as all three.” Caleb says with ease. “You should get used to it.” 

Despite your grievances, your body relaxes exactly the way you expect as you listen to him talk. You yawn out loud,  sleep making your eyes and limbs heavy. 

“Finally tired?” He asks, voice softened. Doting. It’s so instant, you don’t have the will to fight it. “Go sleep. Make sure you eat tomorrow morning and don’t just wait until noon.” 

“Okay, Gege.” You yawn again. “Goodnight. Love you,” 

A long silence stretches between you. You wonder why he hesitates. “Love you too. Now go to bed. And don’t sneak out without telling your teachers again,” 

“Wait, how did you—” 

“I know everything.” He says dismissively. “Goodnight, okay?” 

You pull back and stare at your phone. He’s a little scary sometimes.

 “Yeah. Okay. Night,” 

__ 

At sixteen, you go experience the first real heartbreak of your life. 

It’s less over the actual relationship and more about the events leading to your break-up. 

Your secret boyfriend of five months kissed one of your closest friends. And you caught them both red-handed. 

It was in the gymnasium after school a few weeks ago. You nearly fist fought them both before getting overwhelmed and simply  running away in tears to a nearby playground. Your two other best friends had to pry you out of a bed of mulch and take you home after wiping your tears. 

You have a list of grievances about the situation. You like (?) the guy but you loved your friend - but now you have neither. And all of it happened for a reason you cannot wrap your mind around at all. 

You’re thankful for your other friends who have taken your side in the matter while still trying to get to the bottom of it. And it’s good having them, but in your time of teenage angst - the one person you’d like to tell absolutely can’t know. 

Not telling your older brother is hard. Keeping the secret makes you feel guilty enough, but it’s made harder when he’s home. And he will be for the next two weeks until he has to go back to the dorms. They’re on some kind of spring break. 

Until then, you make it your mission to keep up appearances. Since the one person you don’t want to find out about your relationship is the person who’d find out the fastest. 

Caleb is strict. Has been for as long as you can remember. Though you’ve never explicitly spoken on dating - he has, more than once, “subtly” warned you about having an interest in the opposite sex. You remember how you made stupid heart-eyes to one of his school friends years back and he still brings it up whenever you ask about him and how he’s doing. As if even wanting to know is some kind of betrayal. 

(And well, maybe you do ask just to see him react like that. It’s…funny. It’s not like Caleb needs to know that.) 

You don’t like keeping secrets from your brother. You’re close. Way closer than most people ever are with their siblings. 

Maybe because Caleb has always taken care of you—he feels less like a sibling you can pointlessly squabble with and more like your guardian at times. 

It’s hard for you to lie to him explicitly so the fact you’ve kept the relationship under wraps for five months is kind of impressive. 

You always told yourself, you’d tell Caleb if it ever got serious. Truthfully though, you didn’t think it was going to last. Didn’t even want to accept until your friends pressured you. 

Your now ex-boyfriend is the one who asked you out, which is what pisses you off the most. He’s one of the popular guys in your grade and he’s…nice. Was nice. You don’t think you’d be sad if he simply broke up with you and went out with your friend. You’d think less of him maybe, but it’s not like you’re in love with him. 

It’s all the other stuff that’s weighing you down. It’s getting into a fight with your friend. It’s getting two-timed by the jackass who asked you out first. One you didn’t even like that much. 

(Maybe not at all.) 

It’s wanting to whine and complain about all of this to your older brother who would take your side but not being able to - because you can’t tell him half truths. You don’t have it in you. You barely have it in you to lie to him.

(Truthfully, you think the only reason you’ve been able to all this time is because you’ve kept said boyfriend at arms length somewhat knowingly. You haven’t had a proper kiss.)

Telling Caleb everything is a long time compulsion you don’t know if you’ll ever unlearn.You don’t know if it’s loyalty or gratitude—only that it makes you feel like a dog whose been leashed to a post for most of your life before it gets unchained. 

Even when you’re no longer shackled to it, you find you can’t go anywhere. Being without it doesn’t free you, not really. You find it goes against what you know to try to escape without hearing the click of metal. 

You stay by the post. You tell Caleb everything. It feels outright wrong to lie about something important. 

(And it’s still hard lying about something unimportant.) 

You’re sure it speaks to the depth of your attachment but you always end up spilling your guts to him. Like a child always wanting to please their parents and behave. You know Caleb will accept you, even if he gets angry. But you don’t actually know how he’ll react and that scares you into not wanting to tell him at all. 

The thought of disappointing him is what makes you most uneasy. 

So, you decide that you’ll take it to the grave. It’s your one half-ass rebellion and these are the natural consequences. As long as you process your friendship grief and wear out your anger - it’ll be smoothed over before you know. 

Meticulously, you time your sessions of grieving and angry debriefing phone calls in the hours Caleb is out of the house. You work hard at keeping up as if nothing is happening in your life at all. You feel an unshakeable feeling of guilt the entire time, one that has you waking up in cold sweat but you ignore it because… well, you don’t really know how to fix it. 

(Truthfully - you’re irrationally worried that he’d leave over something so trivial, and you’d be seven and all alone in the world again. As nonsensical as it is, and as much as you want to pretend otherwise, your attachment to Caleb really matters that much to you.) 

You very nearly make it to the finish line of this plan too. Almost. . 

In the middle of your crying session - you answer a knock on the door and assume it’s Granny (who does, at least partially, know what’s going on). You open it without thinking. 

It’s the last person you want to see in the moment. 

You quickly try to shut the door but Caleb is quicker. Slides his unnecessarily huge body through the small gap and shuts it behind him - trapping you both. You stumble back a little, but he catches you by the wrist to make sure you don’t actually fall. 

You feel like a deer in headlights. Red, water rimmed eyes, runny nose, and face puffy - you try to pull your sleeves over your hands and wipe your face. Even though he’s already seen it. You’re too old to be crying like this in front of him. It’s humiliating. 

Caleb grabs your wrists easily before you can wipe them away. You blink away a few unshed tears to get a better look at his face. You inhale, your chest tight - feet like lead as you look at your older brother. His pinched expression, almost pained but still tender. Still gentle. Just seeing it again makes you want to cry. 

“I knew it,” He says. He drops your hands and instead cups your face with his palm, thumb wiping away tears as he cups your cheek. His expression is firm. “What’s wrong, hm?”

It’s like something in you collapses. 

You give into it without any effort. 

Caleb makes it so easy, after all, to be the weakest version of yourself.

With him, there’s no desire to fight what feels inevitable. So you let yourself fall to nothing in Caleb’s arms and cry. You’re torn up over your first real friendship fight so you let yourself lean on him. Just like you do at seven, and ten, and all the years before. Fist your hand tight in the fabric of his shirt like you’re worried he’ll shake you off, even though he never does.) 

(Later, you’ll remember this conversation and realize that there was never any room for anyone else. It was a kind of teenage naivety to think otherwise. 

You’ll hear the sentiment from everyone you know—friends, colleagues, family: the person you can be weakest with is who you should marry. If only you had known that then, too. Maybe accepting it would’ve been easier. Maybe you would’ve known sooner what feeling you’d spend the rest of your adult life chasing) 

Caleb rests his hand on the back of your head as he tucks your face against his chest. It’s warm and soft. The comforting scent of detergent and cologne, undercut by oil and jetfuel. You wish you could bury yourself in.

You stand and cry like that in silence for a long while. Caleb holds you tight without asking any questions, his chin resting on top of your head, patting your back. 

When you pull away from him, ready to explain - he walks himself over to your bed and sits on it. His expression is unreadable. Concerned but trying not to worry too son. 

With his legs wide, he opens his arms out to you to invite you into his lap the way you did when you were kids. You wonder if he’s joking—trying to make you laugh and cheer you up. 

But in the moment you’re so fragile, you tuck your chin and sit anyway. He stiffens briefly, as if surprised but soon enough, strong arms lay drape your waist as he lets you lean into him.

“Ready to talk about it?” 

You fidget. “Aren’t you busy?” 

He shakes his. “I’m all yours.” 

Your chest feels warm and fluttery when he says it. It soothes you. . 

You sniffle, adjusting in his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks. “You don’t have to,” 

“No, I—” You shift in his lap. “It feels wrong. Not telling you.”

Caleb hums. “You’re at that age. I already know that much. But no matter what I’m on your side, so don’t hide when you’re feeling sad or upset. Okay?” 

“Nn,” You nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s really fine. It’s not like I can really be mad at you, right?” 

You make a small, thoughtful noise. “You say that but you’re unexpectedly good at holding grudges.” 

Caleb laughs. “Hm, that’s true. But not with you.” 

You repeat the words to yourself, half-dizzy with a smile. “Not with me.” 

Caleb smiles at you. He holds you a little tighter. You grab hold of his jacket, white knuckling the fabric until your heartbeat settles. 

“So. Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

__ 

( In the end, you tell Caleb everything from start to finish. 

It’s just as you predicted. Once you start, it’s hard to give him anything but the full truth. Caleb listens to you intently without interjecting. Rests his chin on your shoulders, leaving you with nothing but his body language to pick up on his moods. 

He stiffens when you tell him you had a boyfriend. Calms down when you tell him you didn’t like him very much, that all you did was hold hands and cuddle and you still think it was a waste. 

Caleb listens to it all. Hangs onto your every word until you’ve tuckered yourself out. You think of what they say about how a burden shared is a burden halved and hope that it’s fine to depend on him this much all these years later. 

Caleb is silent and steady for the duration of your talk. Towards the end he tells you: “No boy should ever make you cry. Should I get revenge for you?” 

“Gege,” You say exasperated “And what about boys making me cry? That’s all they do from what I can tell.”

He doesn’t refute that. “ That’s true. It’s better to avoid them, really. If I ever make you cry you though, you can hit me,” He replies. You laugh a little.

“I don’t think you would make me cry without good reason.” 

“If I do, I’ll make sure to repent for my whole life after.” He says, joking. Maybe joking. 

Your cheeks warm  “Your whole life feels like a long time.” 

“Is it? You can’t really get rid of me easily, so I think it makes sense.” 

“I guess that’s true. You can’t get rid of me either, you know.” 

Caleb grins at you. “How lucky.”) 

__

At nineteen, you go to a club in the Linkon entertainment district for the very first time. 

Your friends dragged you here. It’s your first year of the Hunter Academy and your first time living away from home. You’ve spent most of the school year completely focused on training and working towards your goals - trying to  be strong enough to work alongside a certain someone and hold your own. 

You’re not here of your own volition, but honestly? It’s not so bad. Drinking and dancing with your friends proves fun for the first couple of hours at least. 

After that gets old though, really more stressful than anything. 

You aren’t supposed to be here in the first place. That’s the main cause of your current unease. The club is 21+ and it was already an ordeal getting in. The longer you stay, the more restless you feel—the more you want to leave before anyone gets caught up in anything. 

You’ve been knocking back drinks all evening, courtesy of some of your friends - and the night is starting to come to a halt for you internally. All the discomfort and overstimulation go from engaging to overwhelming, and your head is starting to spin.

You’re in the section where you and your friends got invited. Apparently there’s someone tonight who's popular in the nightlife scene - son of some rich business man you think. Your friend has been doing you all the solid of keeping him happy. Your eyes flit over to where they dance on the floor and you feel yourself wince just looking at them. 

Shit, your head is throbbing. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sink back in your seat and think about what the best strategy is to get out of here. 

All of you should go home honestly. There won’t be major consequences for simply being intoxicated, but sneaking into an establishment like this really might affect your ability to graduate. Your academy is not known for its leniency. 

Aside from that, you’re tired. You should have more energy than this. You would normally, you think. But it’s a Friday and you had taken up some extra training since you had no plans to be out. The addition of alcohol dehydrating you and the sharp and particular pain from stiletto heels makes you lethargic. Dead on your feet. 

It’s later in the night but not so late people are leaving. A second wave of attendees are shuffling in now. You have half a mind to mix with the crowd and leave by yourself. It feels like a good idea at least. 

But then, more people are brought to your section. You’re only half-paying attention as the guy from earlier, the one paying for you all, happily introduces the new group to people already sitting. 

“...And Caleb, it’s good to see you. You’re usually too busy to come to things like this,” 

A pair of eyes bore into you. You freeze completely, eyes glued to your phone screen as you catch a glimpse of the one person you absolutely do not want to be meeting here. 

“Yeah,” A familiar voice says. His voice is light like he’s not noticed anything.”I’m glad I came. I’ve already seen some interesting things.” 

The dull throb in your head turns the corner to a sharp pain. A feeling of complete misery washes over you. Truly, the worst possible outcome. You wonder what Caleb is doing here in the first place. From what you know, this isn’t usually his kind of establishment either. Maybe someone from his dorms dragged him here too? You think it’d be something like that. 

You make the mistake of looking up as Caleb slides in opposite to you with a few other friends. His expression is completely unreadable as your eyes meet across the table. He flashes you a smile that makes your nerves stand on end. All you can do is look away, eyes flitting back down your phone. 

A text appears at the top of your screen. 

from cpt big bro (1:03am): nice to see you. 

A feeling of unease immediately feels you, but when you look back up at Caleb - he’s pretending like you don’t even exist.

You don’t know why you feel so guilty in the first place. Sure, you snuck in here but it’s not like you did something unheard of. And you’re past the legal drinking age in the first place. And the clothes weren’t your idea. You’ll tell him that when he inevitably asks. 

You’re not doing anything so wrong but you’re worried he’ll get the wrong idea. 

(A voice in your head asks: what idea? You tell yourself it’d be embarrassing if your brother thought you were looking for a hook-up. It’s reasonable enough.

 You decide not to interrogate the reasoning any further, even when the feeling doesn’t go away.)

You find your gaze falling in your lap as you try to dissolve the overwhelming feeling of shame and upset just knowing Caleb’s seen you like this. 

It’s worse though to have him ignoring you. You know he’s probably doing it for your sake. Even knowing he’s not malicious doesn’t make it much better. Your eyes stay glued to your phone screen. 

You don’t know how much time passes before someone else joins you at the table. 

A woman this time. 

“Caleb! You actually came,” She says over the music. You watch her from your peripherals as she slides in next to him without hesitation. “I thought Kenji was lying to get more girls to show up.” 

You hear him laugh a little. You think he sounds a little uncomfortable, but maybe you’re reading too much into it. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Isn’t that always how that goes?” She hums. Your eyes widen slightly seeing the way she presses herself up against his arm. “But I’m glad you're here. Maybe I can convince you to dance.” 

“You can try,” He says. You know he’s just being amiable. Or at least, you think he’s just trying to be amiable. 

You’ve never really seen Caleb flirt with a girl, so you don’t have a real reference for what does and does not count. 

It’s the first time in all of your life you’ve ever seen Caleb get hit on so closely. You’re used to his popularity of course - but back then, Caleb usually made a point to run away. No one ever got near enough. He’s always been nice about it of course, tries to let people down easy. 

You don’t know the girl who's flirting with him now, but you can tell that they know each other. They’re sitting close, but not enough to be obvious. You can hear them too, though. Hear how she talks to him. It’s not hard to tell that she’s hitting on him. And your brother isn’t reciprocating but he’s not quite turning her down. It doesn’t seem to bother him, enough that when he makes jokes playfully rejecting her - the conversation still doesn’t sour.

They get along, is what you mean. Better than you thought they would. 

Your stomach churns. 

You try not to think about whats making you sick.  But it washes over you all at once. More dizzy  than nauseous. You feel like someone is tying your insides into a coil. The more you try to divert your gaze - the harder it is to ignore it. Caleb glances at you from time to time, but it seems accidental at best. 

Your heart is hammering. You think about how long it’s been since you’ve last seen each other. All the things that have happened while you’re apart. 

When you find you can’t sit and handle anymore, your body makes the decision to leave for you. 

It happens quickly. You stand to your feet, nearly stumbling in your heels as you talk to a friend on the dance floor and make-up a nonsense excuse about needing to leave. She offers to call you a taxi, but by then you’re already making a bee-line to the door and out of the club. 

It’s late when you leave. Your whole body feels like it’s trapped in ice as the unforgiving night air whips your skin and leaves you cold. You stumble down the steps in your heels until you finally make it onto the curb with all the other drunk club-goers trying to get home or sober up.

You’ll flag down a taxi, go home, and pretend nothing happened. You repeat the routine to yourself over and over. 

It feels like the only way you can handle it. Your mind can't process it otherwise. Can’t think too hard on what you might’ve been privy too. 

“Where are you runnin’ off to?” 

You freeze when you hear Caleb’s voice. You have half a mind to break into a sprint but you aren’t sure you can without breaking your ankles with your heels. Another part of you is preening over the fact he came immediately to find you. You turn around and try to walk away briskly - only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you towards him and making you come to a halt. 

“Let me go,” You mumble. 

He holds you a little tighter. 

“Don’t be like that. No matter how much training you have, I know you can’t run in heels so quit it,” Caleb says, with a sigh. “Why’d you run off?” 

“What do you mean why?” You say, words slurring. “Who’d wanna see—hicc—” 

Caleb frowns at you. “Why’re you trying to be tough if you can barely keep yourself standing up straight?” 

He sighs, bending down. You let out a noise as he undoes the strap of your heel. 

“Take them off,” 

You pout. “How am I supposed to walk home like that?” 

“I’ll carry you on my back,” He replies. “Your ankles with have a hard time if you keep wobbling like that,” 

“My feet will get dirty from the pavement.” 

You’re being difficult on purpose. Drunk and upset, arguing with anything he says. Caleb knows this you’re sure but he doesn’t seem to have a reaction to it besides mild exasperation. Despite that though, he still tends to you. 

He makes a face at you before sighing. You watch as he slides his jacket off of his shoulders and drapes it over you. It’s oversized on him, even more so on you.  It fits more like a dress and covers more than your outfit does. 

When you’ve slipped your arms through it, he drops down onto his knees and undoes the other strap of your heel. He turns around after that, signalling for you to get on his back. You want to refuse him but you find you don’t have the words to do so. You comply with his request, putting your arms around his neck as he lifts you with frightening ease. 

He bends down with you on his back to pick your heels up and carry them.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me anything?” You mumble. Caleb sighs. It makes you bite your lip. 

“It can wait a bit.”  

“Hmph.”

You find you have nothing left to argue with him. You give up on trying to refuse and let him carry you, both hands lifting you up as you keep your arms around his neck. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, worried your makeup will smear on it. 

You don’t know how long you walk. Your eyes are closed for the duration of it and you only open them again when you sense a change of lighting. The noise of an automatic door and a tired greeting alarms you. You feel embarrassed, suddenly, at the idea that someone else has seen you like this. 

Caleb just greets them as normal.

“Aren’t you gonna let me down already?” 

“Are you feeling uncomfortable?” 

“No, but—”

He doesn’t respond to you further. You get the impression there’s not much meaning to continue arguing so you keep quiet. 

You watch from over his shoulder as he roams the aisles until he comes across cheap pairs of slippers and socks - next to other random household items. He picks the correct size without asking you. Seeing it only adds to the strange feeling you’ve had since leaving the club. 

He goes to self check-out, pays for the sandals, then carries you to one of the few seats and table near the window of the 7/11. Carefully, he sets you down on one, your heels on another, then silently opens the packaging. He drops to his knees and looks up at you in silent question. 

“You don’t need to—” 

He doesn’t say anything when you attempt to refuse him. Keeps quiet  and just waits for you, not unkindly. You frown and hold your foot out to him. He rolls each sock carefully onto your feet, pulling them all the way up over your ankle before the slippers follow. 

“Do they fit okay?”

“Mm,” 

You nod. Caleb hums. Holds his hand out. 

“C’mon. Pick out something to eat or drink so you sober up a bit,” 

“While we talk?” You ask, voice suddenly small. He pauses, smiles just barely, and pats your head with the same firm hand he always does. It makes you want to cry. 

“Yeah. While we talk.” 

You nod as Caleb helps you off the seat. “I’ll go get some water.” 

“Okay,” 

You think of what you want to eat. Childhood memories whisper answers to you. Chips and candy - sweet and salty so you have balance. You remember the way Caleb would cut into his own snack budget for you to get what you wanted. He’d pretend to complain, but he’d smile at you while you ate. 

You pick the same things you used to. You wonder if he’ll notice. 

He returns with two bottles of water. “Did you finish choosing?” 

You nod. His eyes drift to your hands. He cracks another smile that makes you happier then it should.

“I see. Let’s check out then, hm?” 

Your heart flutters. You follow him quietly. He goes to the cashier the second time around - amiable, friendly and easing some unspoken tension. Apologizes for the inconvenience and, with familiar diligence, asks if there’s a recycling bin for him to toss trash nearby. The cashier offers to do it for him. 

Afterwards, he holds his hand out to you like it’s only natural for you to want to hold it. You take it. 

Of course, you do. 

He guides you outside, and the two of you sit on the curb. An expectant look appears on his face when he dusts off place beside him where he’s hoping you’ll sit. You do, knees touching -  folding your hands into your lap. He opens the bottle of water and hands it to you. 

“We could’ve just shared one,” You offer.

“I’m not so stingy,” Caleb says.. You purse your lips. You want to tell him that’s not what you mean, but you don’t want to ask yourself what you do mean. 

You take it from him and drink. 

Silence stretches over the seemingly endless night. The streets of Linkon prove to be busy and limitless. Given the district you’re in, you’d expect it to be more packed - but the streets are desolate. Proof of life resides in the lights of buildings and clubs but now, here—it feels like you’re the only two people left in the world. 

It’s quiet for a long while. You sit like that until you break the ice. 

“You still haven’t asked me anything.” 

“Well,” Caleb looks at you from the corner of his eyes and shrugs, taking a drink. “I can kind of guess why you were there in the first place. Don’t have much of a clubbing spirit, you know. Your friends probably told you to go right?” 

You nod.“You’re not upset?” 

“Mm,” Caleb sighs. “Not at you for just going. It’s hard to be mad at you especially when you…” He trails off, an almost imperceptible smile on his. He shakes his head before continuing and you miss the window to ask about what that was all about. He glances at you again. “Your dress is too short, though.” 

You feel heat crawl up your skin. “It’s not that bad. And I’m nineteen,” 

“So? You’re still my baby sister. Naturally I won’t approve, right? You know that much.”

You bend over your knees, pouting. You feel weirdly happy but try not to think about it. “You’re so unreasonable sometimes.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I’m being very reasonable right now,” 

“...Mm.” 

Tension lingers in the air. You open the chips Caleb got you and tilt it his way. A peace offering. He takes one. 

“Why’d you run off?” 

You make a face. Will yourself to not cry as you tuck your chin. 

“...I dunno.” 

He glances at you. You miss the knowing expression on his face. “Even if you were doing a good job of lying, you know that wouldn’t work on me right? Did something happen? Something you can’t tell me?” 

“Nothing happened but you—”

Caleb interjects. “Me? So it’s because of me then.” 

You bite your tongue. Caleb is lost in thought. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin your night showing up. Didn’t know you’d even be there. It’s not like I’m mad or anything.” Caleb starts. 

“It’s not that,” You say quickly. The frustration just thinking about it makes your throat well up. You can feel it. You drink water trying to wash it down. 

“Then?” 

It slips out of you, exasperated as you sit up and turn to look up at him. 

“You were ignoring me,” You say, voice wet and shaky - hands fisted at your knees, shoulders tight. You still haven’t sobered up much. Your lips curl into a frown. Caleb is stunned into silence. “You didn’t even… I thought you were mad at me. And then that girl sitting next to you was—”

You stop yourself. Caleb looks at you wide-eyed. Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again soon after. He processes what you’ve said slowly, though he doesn’t seem surprised by all of it. 

“I wasn’t mad at you. Surprised, but not so mad. Even if I were mad, I wouldn’t ignore you. It’d make more sense for me to drag you out myself, don’t you think?” 

You huff. “It felt like you were mad at me. And—”

You want to ask. Who was she? Why was she so close to you? Why didn’t you push her away? Do you like her? 

Nothing comes out right. You bite your lip. “That girl… was she your friend?” 

Caleb stops. He looks awkward all of a sudden. “Huh? No, no. She’s my senior. She has someone else she likes,” 

“She was hitting on you,” You say bluntly, sticking your feet out. “And you didn’t stop her.” 

For a brief moment, you swear he looks amused. His expression settles again quickly. “I know she’s not being serious so I didn’t feel like there was any point causing a rift.” 

“She’ll get the wrong idea. If you don’t turn her down properly and just let her—” Be all over you. Touch you so close. Get in your space. “...flirt with you.” 

A beat. “You think I should turn her down properly then?” 

It hangs in the air. You want me to turn her down?

You bite the inside of your lip. “Yeah.” 

“Will it make you feel better?” 

Your eyes meet. For a brief second you feel like someone has stolen all the air from your lungs in one go. You look down. 

“Yeah,” 

Caleb’s breath hitches just a touch before he speaks. “Okay.” 

He opens his arm up to invite you closer and slot into his side the way you used to. Blinking wetly, you scoot across the concrete and tuck yourself under the safety of his arm. Your face is close to his chest. He smells like cologne and iit makes your heart beat feel erratic. His hand comes up to stroke your head and you let him soothe you like you have so many times before. 

“No matter what happens, there’s nothing you could do or say that’d make me angry enough to ignore you. I’d never ignore you if I didn’t think you wanted me to,” 

“I never want you to ignore me, ever.” You say immediately. “Never ever.” 

He chuckles. The way it reverbs in your body makes you dizzy. “Okay, princess. Noted. Do you wanna sit a little longer or should I call a car for you?” 

You tuck into his side. It’d be nice if you never had to leave him ever again. Pressing into him, your words muffle in the fabric of his shirt. You tug at the hem. 

“Wanna stay here. Just for a bit.” 

He hesitates above you. But a while later, you feel his lips at the crown of your head - right at your hairline. His voice is gentle. “Sure. As long as you want,” 

__

At twenty-two, you often dream of your older brother. 

At first, it’s grief. Caleb dies not long after your birthday and in the months that pass - the warm memories of your childhood seem to follow you into sleep. Some nights, it feels kind to see him. In your dream, you run into his arms and he holds you tight when you tell him you missed him.

Grief holds the rest of you hostage. You want for nothing and think of nothing except your brother. You miss Grandma too, of course you do. 

But there’s nothing in the entire world like a brother. Like your brother—who you could ask anything of. It’s hard to unpack the loneliness you feel. Hard to explain it to other people. 

In the months you correct yourself from saying have to had—and watch peoples eyes change into one of sorrow and pity. At the worst of it, you can’t even pretend to think of that as a kindness. Can’t even thank them for being nice. At the worst of your grief, you find yourself especially angry at being pitied. You look at people and want to say they don’t understand. They don’t know what you lost. There are no words that make it digestible. You bite your tongue, give a tight-lipped smile. 

What you wanted to say was this: How dare you act like you understand what I lost? How dare you feel sorry when you don’t know the half of it? My brother is dead. A piece of me is missing.

You never say any of it. You bury the words in the black vast of your grief and throw yourself at finding answers. 

Your feelings about the incident change the more you find out. About Grandma and the abomination in your heart—and you cycle from anger to sorrow to unease.

They never change about Caleb though. The apparition of him, warm and broad, cycles through your dreams every now and again. Some nights, you wake up expecting to be seven years old again—clinging to your older brother, the only thing you know in the world that’s made you lose everything. 

Most nights, you wake up from dreamless sleep and feel yourself wanting to cry. 

(You don’t cry often when he’s gone, even when you should. 

Who would be there to hold you now when you do?) 

When you finally see Caleb again, see him alive—your emotions become just as complicated as your mind has been in the months of his absence. 

You’re ecstatic, you’re angry, you’re terrified, you’re so so sad. You are all of these things at the same time. 

And then, you realize that the death of Caleb did not only change you. Your older brother comes back to you. He’s warm, kind, and gentle sometimes. But it’s not the same. There’s something about him, inexplicable, that is changed forever. 

Caleb dies and comes back wrong—but this only strengthens your resolve. To do what, exactly? You aren’t sure. You don’t know what you want and you still know nothing about the Aether Cores. Or about what Caleb does. 

All you do  know is that your older brother has come back to you, and you are empty without him. You’d rather have him wrong than not have him at all. You’ll fix him or become wrong with him before you ever let go of him again.

(Even the way he is now, sometimes, he seems worried about ruining you. You want to say sometimes—then ruin me. You know what he’d say if you did. He knows he’d tell you to watch your tongue and not to say what you don’t mean.

You’ve thought about it, though. You’d rather that then he disappear again. You’d rather you know what's going on then not. ) 

Things have changed. Caleb has changed.

You have changed, most of all. 

When you hear from Caleb for the first time he no longer wants to be your brother - that he’s tired from playing house with you, your first reaction is devastation. The memory of that dread is so strong, you still feel it when you replay it all in your mind. Caleb above you, caging you in, unreadable—no longer what you know. 

You don’t think about anything. You can’t. It destroys you completely to hear him say it. Makes you want to cling to him and beg. Cry loudly enough to wake the version of him that did want to be your brother. That loved you unconditionally. 

When you have to go the next morning and find a memory of your childhood tucked away - you realize not all of him is lost to you. That the parts of him you loved so dearly have not entirely disappeared. 

So you stay, and try to mend the broken pieces of your relationship back together.

At twenty-two, you often dream of your brother. 

When he comes back to you, you think you’ll be given one more dream before he disappears. You figure the real thing is back in your hands. It’ll go back to the way it was before, where your sleep is long and dreamless but that’s fine. As long as you can wake-up and see the sun, without feeling like yours was stolen from you—anything is fine. 

At twenty-two, even after you learn he’s alive, you often dream of your brother. 

The first time you ever have a wet dream of Caleb is just after he comes back to Linkon. 

After you sit in the garden with Caleb and blow the hydrangea petals away from his face, and his hand comes up to touch you. After he promises to take good care of the flower he takes back to SkyHaven. After he tells you there was no way he’d be able to stay away from you. 

When you sleep the night after he returns home, you dream of Caleb again. 

This time you’re in your bedroom—the one from your childhood home, that Caleb spent so many years taking up space in. You dream of your brother on top of you and you both look a little younger. His face contorted with pleasure, and your hand being the one to give it to him. The image missing from the waist down, all you can see is the clear view of him over you. Making it so obvious what you’re doing. Doing together.  

You wake up from your dream with a feeling like something’s crushing your chest. A wheezing breath as you struggle to calm down. A distinct feeling of wetness between your legs that cling to your PJs when you stumble into your bathroom - trying to relieve yourself and being confronted with the reality of what just happened. 

The first time you have a wet dream about Caleb—you only feel shame. You tell yourself that it’s a fluke, and that dreams are meaningless anyway. It makes you violated to think of him like that. You can’t control what you do in your sleep. You decide not to dwell. 

Weeks pass and you see Caleb again. You share fruit and more conversation, and the following night - you have another wet dream. This one, more vivid than the last. Different. You dream of Caleb with a baton to your neck and the tension in the room when he caged you in his arms. In your dreams he’s cruel as he drags the metal end down your body, pushes it against your—

You wake up the next morning almost inconsolable. 

The cycle repeats for as long as you see him. Every time Caleb appears in your life, you dream of him the next night. You wake up in shock, wet down your legs and spend all morning trying to suppress it down as far as you can. 

You tell yourself all sorts of things when it happens. You reason with yourself. Dreams are nonsense. You can’t control them. It’s your brother. You don’t think of him like that.

(You think of all the times you’ve seen him since he’s returned. All the ways his eyes soften for you, all the ways his hands linger—how ever since he’s denied being your brother at all, you think of what that might make you now. 

It breaks your heart to not have him as your brother. Your precious family. An unbreakable bond. The one you love most. He touches you the way brothers aren’t supposed to, and you remind yourself of what you can’t have. You remind yourself of what loss you would feel first.

He always looks pained when he touches you like that, though. And, for some strange reason, sometimes you want to tell him: Did you know I dreamt of you touching me? So you don’t need to make that face. Like you’re wrong. My dreams couldn’t make you this gentle.)

The harder you try to force it down, the harder it is to pretend it’s nothing. You push and push and push—but each time you see him, the cycle repeats.

Eventually, it’s too hard to pretend. You refuse to name it, or think about it—but when you let your mind stop forcing it so deep into your subconscious, it’s easier to reconcile. 

It doesn’t go away. But your skin prickles with embarrassment, and you sigh, and you move on from it. Even if the dreams don’t stop, you can go on about your day when you leave it all alone.

You think maybe, if you and Caleb never saw each other again, it might even work to rid you of the dreams completely.

But he’s your brother—your precious family, the one you love most. You see him all the time. Whenever your schedule allows it, he’s the first person you check with to see if you can come spend time with him. Even if he can’t be with you, you stay over at his place to eat his food and watch TV on his expensive flatscreen. 

It makes you feel like you live together again. 

(You try not to reel at the thought. It’s normal for siblings to stay together from time to time. It’s like a sleep over. That’s all.) 

So it’s not unusual for you anymore to drop by his place. You even have a key. 

(Your key, you think. Caleb put a stupid green apple cover on the top part of it. It’s for you, and only you.) 

Even when you do come over, sometimes you only see him at night. You have little conversations before you need to go to sleep (or rather, when he makes you go to sleep.) But it still feels better than only seeing him sometimes. 

So it’s not unusual for you to be here in your PJs and watching something stupid while draped on Caleb’s couch. 

It is unusual, however, to have him come home so soon.

PART TWO: SO ONLY SAY MY NAME, IT WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

You pick your head up as soon as you hear the security system for Caleb’s apartment announce someone at the door. The time reads 6:56pm.

Heavy footfall makes you pick yourself up, crawling to the edge of the couch and standing on your knees to catch sight of him. You lean forward. 

“You’re home early.”

It takes him a second to register who's talking, but he smiles slightly when he does. Turnt towards the doors, he’s leaned against a wall as he undoes the laces of his steel-toed boots. 

“So are you,”

You give him a melodic hum. “I got off since we have a holiday. I have Monday off too.” 

“Yeah? That’s good. You should try to rest up some,” 

“I will. Gotta catch up on my shows first though,” You reply thoughtfully. “I’m like half-way through ‘em.” 

“Workin’ hard I see. Try not to over-exert yourself.” He adds, playfully sarcastic. You nod. 

You answer him in silly earnest. “Of course. I’m more relaxed here so don’t worry.” 

He pauses as he finally stands back up. You see him at the other side of the room with a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

You feel something in your stomach that you choose to ignore. “Yeah. Plus I don’t have to eat my own groceries.” 

“It’s better you eat mine than me wasting them,” He says with a shrug. 

“How generous of you.” 

“Right?” 

You lean forward, resting more of your weight on the couch. “Did they just send you home early too? Or is it some special Colonel privilege?” 

You see him shake his head as he slides off his coat and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a plastic bottle of water out of it before taking a few long drinks. 

“Mm, kinda the first.” He says thoughtfully. “I got injured in the field today, had to go to the infirmary. It’s a minor injury but I checked in with my commanding officer and he told me I might as well go home.” 

You frown. “What kind of injury?” 

“It’s really fine,”

“Caleb.” 

He sighs, turning towards you. The open fridge door illuminates him. “Just got a bruise along my thigh from how I fell. Nothing broken.” He says. You’re still frowning at him. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“How can you be fine if they sent you home?” 

“It’s not like that,” 

“I don’t believe you,” You say petulantly. Caleb shuts the fridge door with his hip as he laughs. 

“What, you want me to show it to you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s on my thigh. I’d have to take off my pants,” He says, laughing. He joins you on the couch - sitting where you were laying—eyeing you while he waits for you to come join him. You narrow your eyes suspiciously but crawl over to him anyway, sitting beside him with your legs up. “Unless you’re really just wanting me to strip, promise it’s fine. I’ve had it worse,”

“That’s not a good thing. If it were me you’d be freaking out already and fussing over me.” 

“It’s different,” 

“Is not,” 

“Is too. My little sisters still a bit of weakling, see—if I don’t take good care of her she’ll end up hurting herself even worse,” Caleb says, voice high. 

“I’m not even weak. Maybe not as strong as you but not weak.” 

“When you get stronger than me, we can talk about who gets to worry about who,”  He says, flicking your forehead lightly. You pretend to flinch at the injury. 

“You let me do whatever I want except worry about you.” 

“You got it. Glad you’re getting up to speed.” 

You elbow him. Caleb laughs. 

You sit back with your knees to your chest, frowning. Caleb leans back, arm stretched on the back of the couch. Inching closer to him subconsciously, your brow furrows as you think about his injury. 

It’s like he reads your mind.

“You’re really worried about it.” He murmurs.

You purse your lips. “No shit.” 

“Don’t cuss,” 

“I’m twenty-two!” 

“So?” He raises his eyebrow. 

“You make me want to strangle you sometimes.” 

“If you succeed I’ll be impressed.”

You glare at him. “I’ll make sure to wait until you’re fully recovered so it counts,” 

He relaxes into the couch, eyes filled with mirth. “Smart move.” 

“You’re still in your outside clothes. Don’t you want to wash up first?” 

“Do I smell bad?” 

“No, that’s not it. But if you get too comfortable, you might not want to get up to do it, you know?” 

“I’m not like a certain someone, so I’m not worried about that.” Caleb says. You huff as he continues on. “I just wanted to sit with you for a bit first. Is that not okay?” 

“I didn’t say all of that. Don’t put words in my mouth, jeez.” 

He hums. “Just checking,” 

Comfortable quiet  settles between you as Caleb sits and watches your drama with you intently.

You relax further into the couch as you settle back in, once again engrossed in your show. It’s a period and fantasy drama about a once noble woman getting married against her will to a supposedly cruel emperor. Crude description aside, it has high political stakes, violence, and good writing. 

The romance aspect of the show was what drew you in more-or-less, but it’s a slowburn between the main couple. You’ve mostly been watching for the high-tension plot. It captures both your attention and seemingly Caleb’s too. 

“Wait,” Caleb interrupts half-way through an episode. “I want to watch the rest with you but I need to shower,” 

You smile at him. “It’s good right? It’s not a lot of romance but there’s other stuff. We can watch it together after you wash-up and maybe…we can have a drink together.” 

“You’re so interested in that,” 

“I want to know what kind of drunk you are. It’s not fair you’ve seen me drunk and I haven’t,” 

“Pfft,” He rubs your head with hand, amused. “What kind of reason is that? But you know what? Sure. Order whatever you want with my card while I go shower.” 

“Yay!” 

You pause the TV as Caleb stands up and stretches, fishing for his wallet and passing you his card. Snatching it from between his fingers, you give him a mischievous look that makes him laugh. 

“Go shower,” 

“I am, I am,” He holds his hands up. “I’ll be quick,” 

__

You watch your drama late into the evening. 

You drink casually with Caleb as you binge watch the final few episodes of the season you started on. You take a break later in the night to have dinner delivered to you, but afterwards - you decide to keep watching. 

Caleb wasn’t lying when he told you he holds his drink well. You’ve both been knocking them back since eight pm. Even with the time to sober up in between, he seems like he hasn’t had a single thing to drink the entire time. 

You feel far from wasted, a warm meal in your stomach settling some of inebriation - but you still feel somewhat tipsy. At least enough to have that pleasant, warm, loose-limbed buzzed. You’re sober enough that Caleb doesn’t get on your case about drinking enough water - though you sure it’ll be a different story in another hour or two if it keeps going. 

Half-past midnight - you’re two episodes deep into the third season of your drama. 

Relaxed, you’re half-way draped on Caleb - legs in hips lap and nursing another cheap can of beer. After several episodes of action and violence - the story is starting to get back to the romance aspect for the main couple. 

Maybe it’s your fault for not thinking it through, but you’re really not expecting a graphic sex scene to play so soon after so much high plot. 

In the first place, it doesn’t start out like a sex scene. The main character went to go visit her injured husband after he returned from battle. Sweet, you thought. Maybe you’d get to see them have some intense, longing eye-contact like they’ve been having for a while now. 

You aren’t sure when exactly it takes a left turn. You’re tipsy and comfortable and warm. On your phone looking things up on social media. 

They kiss once, then twice before a breathy moan cuts through the comfortable.  

Before you can scramble to find the remote and scrub through it, the scene changes instantly in temperature. A few tepid kisses rapidly go from chaste to deep, all tongue and teeth. 

Near full blown nudity flashes across your T.V. screen as a strange heat creeps up your neck. You feel like you’ve had enough mental torment when you see the male lead kiss his way down the female leads neck. It’s more uncensored then you thought. 

Your voice is trembling a little. “We should uhm,” You swallow thickly. “Where’s the remote..?” 

Caleb feels a little… different. He seems startled hearing you speak, looking at you with lidded eyes. “Not sure. Think you had it last,”

“Oh, right. I don’t,” Another moan rips through the tension between you. It takes your full body effort not to jump. “....really remember where I put it,” 

“You want me to help you look?” 

You blink at him. “I mean… we should, probably look for it. Since, uhm… you know.” 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Caleb interrogates. You stare at him. 

“You aren’t?” 

Caleb is quiet for a long time, like he’s thinking hard about the answer. 

“I feel fine,” Is what he says after what feels like forever. 

“You feel… fine.” 

He nods without looking at you. “We can skip it if you want. Probably have to get up to find the remote, though.”

You sink back in the couch, your face feeling warm. “It’s fine, then.” 

You’re a little startled as the couple on T.V starts to really have sex - at least more than foreplay. It’s not full frontal, but the sounds and angles are enough to get the point across. Caleb just… watches. Relaxed.

“You sure?” He offers, glancing at you again. “It’s fine if it’s too much for you,” 

Frowning, you sit up slightly. “What do you mean too much for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re saying it like you’re used to it,” 

Caleb gives you another glance. Assess you once or twice before looking back at the T.V. 

“Does it matter if I am or I’m not?” 

You find yourself at a loss for words. Is he used to this? That can’t be the case, right? 

“You never dated anyone when we were growing up.” 

Caleb nods. “You don’t really need to date someone for something like that, though it’s better that way.” 

You find yourself shocked by his answer. He’s changed a lot, you know that but—

But it feels wrong. You can’t imagine him just hooking up with someone and having a one-night stand. He’d only ever do it with a girlfriend. So if he has any experience, it’d have to be with someone like that. 

He smiles at you. “You’re making a scary face.” 

You look up at him, unsure of what face you should be making. The question slips out before you can stop to think about whether or not you should even ask it. 

“So are you… used to it?” 

He pauses before leaning in. “This is the second time you’ve asked,” 

“That’s…” 

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing someone’s little sister should ask their older brother right?” 

You snap your mouth shut. Caleb leans a little closer. “Right?” 

“You’re not answering,” You whisper. Your foreheads touch.

“Is there a specific answer you’re looking for?” Caleb says. 

Your eyes widen, teeth pressing against your lip as you tear your gaze away from his face. . “No,” 

“Is that what my answer should be or are you answering what I just asked?” 

You don’t give him a reply. 

Caleb lets out a soft breath of laughter before he finally seems to decide he’s teased you enough. He gets like this more and more lately. Most times you cool off from it quickly but… 

You aren’t sure what drives you to make a move. What makes you tug him back to you by the front of his shirt when he tries to pull away. If it’s the alcohol, or the jealousy that makes you do it. It’s hard to say what the source of your heart pumping so hard is—only that it’s all Caleb’s doing. 

Your hands fist in the front of his shirt as you drag him forward and kiss him as hard as you possibly can, only barely avoiding biting down with your teeth. Chaste but harsh, you press your lips together with nothing but pure desperation, air pushing hard through your lungs as you do. For a minute or two, longer than a kiss should last. 

And then, you pull away. Out of breath like you just ran a marathon, cheeks hot and flushed. Your first kiss that you initiated.  It’s almost mundane. 

Embarrassed, your first instinct is to jump off the couch and lock yourself in the bathroom. But Caleb knows you. Even better than you know yourself. 

He catches your wrist as he leans towards you. His expression is unreadable. 

“You kissed me,”  He says, completely entranced. “You did right? I didn’t just dream that?” 

“It’s your imagination. You must be drunk,” 

He laughs good naturedly. “Maybe I am.” 

Your frown deepens. How do you refuse him when he acts like that? 

Your heart feels like a jackhammer against your ribcage. You can’t. You really can’t. You shouldn’t have—

“I didn’t mean to k-kiss you,” 

Blatant heartache fills his eyes. It feels like something is crushing your chest. “Is that so?” 

You squeeze your eyes, relenting only a little. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t.”

Caleb scoffs “Why? Because you see me as your brother?” 

“You are my brother.  You are and you always will be, and I don’t want to lose that. I can’t, I can’t. You’re—” 

“Why can’t you?” His voice is raw, almost desperate. Trying so hard to understand you. It makes you hurt seeing him like that. “What can I do to become more to you?” 

“You’re already`—” Everything to me. “You’ll always be the most important person to me.” 

His hands grip tighter, devastation darkening the familiar aura of warmth you’ve come to love. Like he’s at the precipice of something considering what he should do. It takes him a while to come upon answers. Staring at you so desperately before closing his eyes, loosening his grip like he’s ready to let you go.

He looks like he makes a choice then. Really makes one. You can already predict what’ll do. What smile he’ll give you but it feels different from other times.

You hold onto him before he can, hand fisted in his shirt. He startles again, softens, not agitated despite how wishy-washy you’re being.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” You say, so quietly it almost evades you both. “But I don’t want to lose you as my brother if we become more than that.” 

Silence falls between you. 

“You won’t lose me,” He replies, gently and easily. Your eyes meet. It’s nice. “I want to be everything to you, remember? All of it. I want you to only think of me for the rest of our life. For us to only need each other. You don’t need to give anything up. When have I ever said no to you?” 

You turn away from him, shaking your head. “You said that you never saw me as family, that you wouldn’t be—” 

Caleb stops you. “I want to be everything to you. Everything. I want us to only need each other. I had to make you understand. From the start, I never intended to give anything up for anyone else.”

“But that’s…” 

“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” He says, reading your mind. “I’m asking what you want. Tell me who you want me to be. I’ll do all of it for you. 

You glance down, away from him - guilt, remorse, fear. You’re resolve is wavering, but you’re too afraid to say it out loud. 

His voice softens. A hand, big and warm and kind, cups your cheek. You know. Know every scar, every touch. 

“Tell your big brother what you want and he’ll give it to you.” 

Something in you shatters. The weak resistance you’ve been trying to hold onto so desperately, denying yourself of what you’ve wanted deep down all this time. Having it offered to you, handed to you—proves to be too much. It all comes tumbling down. 

Your voice comes out like a whine. Your dependency more than shows. 

“Touch me,” You gasp, voice wet with tears. Caleb cracks a slight smile. “Touch me, please—want you so bad. Don’t want anyone else to have you.” 

Caleb looks elated. Adoring. Madly and terribly in love. 

“What a crybaby, hm?” He pulls away from you, standing up before scooping you in his arms “Here. Hold onto me. I’ll carry you,” 

“Caleb, I’m too—” 

He stops you. “I have a bionic arm. Don’t say you’re too heavy. It could carry ten of you.” 

He keeps good on his promise. You wrap your arms around Caleb’s neck as he picks you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, a gasp leaves your mouth as his hands rest under your thighs - lifting you as he walks you to his room. It reminds you of when you were little though a lot has changed since then. 

The realization makes you nervous. 

“The TV is still playing.” You mumble..

“You won’t be able to hear it from my room,” 

“This is embarrassing,” 

“You’ll live.”  Caleb hums. 

“I hate you,” 

Caleb opens his bedroom door with his hip and closes it the same way, walking you to the end of his bed and dropping you on to his mattress. He leans over you, hands on either side of your thighs to keep himself up - inches away from your face. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’ll make me sad.” He says sweetly.

You pout. “Sorry,” 

He laughs a little. “It’s okay,” 

This close to you, you feel a strange warmth glow your whole body. You crane your neck up to kiss him chastely, pulling away and feeling shy again. 

“You taste like beer,” 

Caleb stares at you for a long time, smiling slightly. Dazed. “Should I go brush my teeth?” 

You look down, away from his face, your hands fiddling with the ends of his shirt. “No…” 

He presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing. “How can you be so cute, hm?” 

“Quit that,” You whine.

“If you get this embarrassed just hearing you’re cute, you’ll have a hard time later on.” 

You blink up at him owlishly. He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m barely holding it together, you know?” 

You look up at him. 

“What do you wanna do to me?” 

His eyes seem to dilate.  “Don’t ask me that,” 

“Tell me. I want to know,” 

He laughs breathlessly. “That’s unfair,” 

“I don’t have to be fair with you,” You say petulantly. “Tell me,” 

“I’ve spoiled you too much.” Caleb says, faux regret. “Even if you get scared, you can’t run away.” 

“I won’t get scared,” 

“Really?” Caleb hums. He moves to the side, his mouth next to your ear - voice barely audible. He puts his hands over yours as he towers over you. “You sound confident, but you know—I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. So badly that it scares me just thinking about it. Can you handle that?” 

It’s a confession you think, as much as it’s dirty talk. He pulls back and you’re face to face again. 

“I’m not scared of you. Even if you can’t control yourself I won’t be scared.” You tell him, headstrong as always.

His smile falters. “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“I know you like to call me a weakling but you know I’m not really made of my glass,” You stare at him, eyes tracing over his features. “It’ll be hard for you to break me in one go. Might’ve be fun,” 

He tsks. “Don’t talk like that. I’d prefer to treasure you.” 

You look at him for a long time quietly. 

“I dreamt of you.” 

“Hm?” 

You feel your face flush, but for some strange reason - you have an urge to tell him. The words come easy. Maybe you’ve just been waiting for a reason to confess. 

“Of you touching me,” Caleb’s eyes go wide. You smile a little. “Used to dream of you when you were, you know… but it wasn’t the way I dream of you now.” 

“How do you dream of me now?” His voice is strained. 

“They’re dirty dreams,” You say, fidgeting. “Sometimes I’m touching you and making you feel good. But most of the time, it’s you doing whatever you want to me.” 

His voice is hoarse. “Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You lock eyes. You can see it in him. It almost feels cruel, but you’re not saying it to tease him. “I had a wet dream about when you were interrogating me. You were being mean in that one. Really mean,” 

“I already said sorry about that,” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” 

He swallows. “Oh,” 

“Yeah, oh.” You slide your hand up his arms, squeezing the back of his biceps as he leans over you. Look up at him with mutual love. “I’ll only say it once so please listen carefully: I’m fine with anything if it’s you.” 

It’s unexpected when Caleb tackles you to the bed. Not to kiss you, rather—but to hug you. You squeal as you both drop onto the mattress with your legs hanging off the edge. Caleb’s full weight crushes you, trapping you in his arms. You find yourself laughing a little, giggly as you feel him squeeze you tight enough to crush you.

“You’re squishing me, Caleb.” 

He laughs breathlessly, rolling you both to the side. Pulling away with your face inches apart, he beams. 

“Do you know that I’m crazy about you? Or do you say things like that not even knowing?” 

“I don’t know,” You say, burying your face against his chest. “I just know you take good care of me. I want to take good care of you too,” 

A spectrum of emotions pass through Caleb’s features at once at the admission. It’s the most vulnerability he’s ever shown you.

His body stiffens. He takes a deep breath before pulling away from you. You watch him innocently as he pushes himself up closer to the headboard. Rolling onto your stomach, you stare at him as he rolls onto his side. 

“More comfortable this way, right?” 

Consider without trying, your face warms. Caleb’s voice is whisper soft. “C’mere.” 

You push yourself up until you’re closer to him, legs no longer hanging off the edge.

Within his reach, Caleb’s hand find your waist. He’s strong, you forget it all too easily—until he’s manhandling you to be in his grasp. Careful but demanding. Rolling on his back, he pulls you onto his lap until you’re straddling him. 

The view proves too much for you both. His face is pink. A sheepish smile on his face. 

“Regretting it?” 

You shake your head quickly, careful not to rest your weight on his lap. He rests one of his hands on your thigh, closer to your knee and steals a glance at you. 

Like this, you become aware of him for the first time. Consciously, as if he’s become a completely different person. All the things you’d never allow yourself to consider, slowly draw into focus. Like seeing him with a new set of eyes.

You notice every detail. Sparking arousal and curiosity, you put your hand on his chest and just stare. Unconsciously, your fingers reach for the dog-tag necklace you gifted him - straightening it. Metal warmed underneath your fingertips, you center it on his shirt. At the dip of his muscles where his chest is. 

Fitted tank-top shows off enough to give you an idea of what’s underneath. Smooth, alabaster skin. Muscles bulking underneath the ribbed cotton - soft and supple from lack of tension, rising and falling with each breath. Your thumb smooths over the silly apple-shaped pendant, the raised letter of the dogtags. The brief skin to skin makes the air feel electric. 

You do it unthinkingly, really. Following your instinct, you rest your hand on his chest before sliding them up closer to his neck. Defined clavicles, the long  column of his throat and how it leads to the angled curve of his jaw. Eventually, your hand finds his face. His boyish features—handsome but youthful. Caleb leans into the touch. His usual, playful teasing nowhere to be found. It makes you jolt in surprise. His expression is painted by desire, a rosy flush to what's an otherwise perfect face. 

His voice grows thick. An octave deeper than you’re used to. “Having fun?” 

“Nn,” You shift under the weight of his gaze. “Sorry,” 

“S’fine,” He says, pressing his cheek to your palm. “You can touch me however you want.” 

Hearing it embarasses you. But your reply comes quickly. “You too,” 

Caleb smiles shakily. His hand slides up your thigh. It’s slight, barely there. His hands are trembling. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“We’ve kissed before,” 

He shakes his head. “It won't be like before.” 

“I don’t have any experience,”

Caleb laughs breathlessly. “I don’t care.” 

You frown, but let yourself fall forward. Suddenly inches apart, your eyes widen. Caleb is staring at you this time. His eyes soaking in your expression, gaze falling onto your lips and staying there. They flicker back to yours for silent permission. 

You meet his eyes completely assured. He swallows and cranes his neck, his hand coming up to your face to cradle it. His thumb traces your lips, inching himself closer and closer. You can hear his breath. Feel it on your face from how close you are. 

Cupping your nape, he presses his lips to yours with unfathomable tenderness—undercut with the hottest flames of desires you’ve ever felt. It’s hard to describe it. All of the kisses you’ve ever had in your life have been Caleb’s, but this one really is different.

An unfamiliar desperation fills it despite being a gentle press of lips. He pulls away and you miss him. Try to chase it as he speaks against your mouth. 

“Open your mouth, baby. Breathe through your nose,” 

You listen to your older brother obediently, mouth parting as he leans in to kiss you again. Soft at first before pulling you down deeper into him by your. A moan escapes you subconsciously and you feel Caleb shiver. Eyes closed, you let him guide you through it. He controls the depth, the pace. You kiss deeply like that, holding each other before he pulls away again. 

Every time you part, you feel a strange pang of sadness. Caleb never leaves you like that for too long 

Your mind is hazy with desire as you fall into a pace with him. He breathes hard each time he pulls away from you, seems overwhelmed each time he kisses you again. Switching between deep kisses to chaste one, your lips throb from the overwhelming intensity of it. His mouth perfectly warm, lips soft and full. Wet as the kiss deepens but not unpleasantly. A tingly sensation that makes your skin prick. 

You make a noise of surprise when Caleb slips his tongue against your mouth. But you don’t dislike it. Rather, out of curiosity, you copy him. 

(A habit of your childhood—to copy your older brother and keep what you like from him as your own. )

Caleb inhales when you mirror him. Your eyes flicker open briefly to see his face, pleased by the draw of his eyebrows, before letting them close again. 

There’s nothing intimidating about kissing Caleb. Every fear you harbor about how you should do it is washed away by the sheer force of your lust for one another. Like a gap of communication has finally been bridged—with your soft tongues sliding against each other, brushing against his palate, open mouth panting, subconsciously rocking your hips. Each second of doubt is brushed away by the overwhelming feeling of mutual, lovesick desire. It flows through your veins with more naturality than even your blood. Nothing more righteous, more sure. 

You kiss like you’re telling him every secret you’ve ever kept—lips incapable of anything but honest confession. Holding onto each other in desperate, desperate necessity. A lifeline. A lifetime of holding it in, unraveling like the seconds couldn’t pass quickly enough to answer for it. 

It feels like the beginning of devouring. You’ve never felt so hungry for something in your life. It gnaws at your conscious thoughts. 

Desire simmers as you subconsciously settle your weight on Caleb’s lap, rocking your hips against the pleasant hardness meeting it. Not entirely sure of what it is your even touching. Caleb moans softly each time you do. 

“Fuck,” Caleb pulls away finally. You whine and he laughs at you. Kisses you again, just once. “Shh, baby.” 

“Nn, you don’t wanna kiss?” Your words come out slurred, even to your own ears. 

“Not that I don’t want to, but you’re—” His laugh comes out higher, breathier. “Doing a little more than kissing,” 

“Mm?”

He looks up at you. Amusement mixed with arousal. “You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?” 

“Feels good,” 

“You’re this weak to a little pleasure,” Caleb says. His hands are hot as they squeeze your hips. “Can’t you feel what you’re sitting on?” 

The question sobers you. Caleb hold you steady to stop you before changing the pace. Uses his strength to hold your hips down as he grinds you over the full length of his…

“Oh,” You’re startled. You’re grinding against—

“You’ve been grinding against my dick like that without thinking about it at all. Isn’t that dangerous?” 

A shiver wracks through you. Caleb’s voice is husky, low when he says. It’s crass and to the point—something you could never imagine hearing him say. But now that you have heard it, it makes it feel like your whole body is melting. Sticky arousal climbs through your limbs, leaves your mind muddled as you moan. Shivering, you fall forward in his arms. He closes them around your back, grinding his hard-on against your clothed cunt. The way it catches on your clit so indirectly feels so good you could cum from it. 

His lips find your face, your jaw. His kisses affectionate. “Feels good, huh?” 

“Mmm,” You press your face to his neck. “Caleb,” 

“Do you want to cum like this? Or do you want me to make you feel even better?”

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Caleb says, a promise. “Better. Promise. Do you want that?” 

You nod. “I want it,” 

“Gonna lay you on your back, okay?” 

You make an affirmative noise as Caleb flips you on your spine with ease. Surprised by his strength again, you gasp a little as he turns you over until he’s over you. He kisses you sweetly. 

Your head feels full. Too heavy on your shoulders. You want to put your tongue in his mouth again and you don’t feel all the way there. Caleb looms over you. 

“You’re beautiful,” Caleb says, breathless. Your eyes go wide. “Really fucking beautiful,”’

“That’s…” 

“I think it all the time. Want to say it to you all the time, but I never wanna scare you.” Caleb hums, a hand on your thigh. 

“Why would that scare me?” 

Caleb chuckles like it’s obvious. “You get skittish easily, you know? When I act less like your brother and more like…” 

You finish the sentence for him with a pout. “My boyfriend?” 

He hums like just hearing it feels good, eyes lidded. “Yeah. Like your boyfriend.” 

“Well that’s….” 

“Do I make you nervous?” 

His expression is playful. Makes your stomach flip. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt. 

“So what if you do?”

“It’d make me happy,” 

“You want me to be nervous? How mean,” 

He leans into your space. You kiss again and feel disappointed when it’s over. Were you always so desperate? 

“Don’t put words in my mouth. It just feels good to know you think of me that way, yeah?”

Something about it, about him like this makes your stomach tie in knots. You make a face, head tilted trying to tempt him into doing what you want. Caleb knows without you speaking a word, always does. Dips his head down to appease, lips firm and steady. Soft and full enough to make you melt. Your arms around his neck, a little breathless, mewling at the way it makes it feel like there’s electricity in your skin. 

“You really like kissing, huh,”  Caleb says. He pulls away again. Casts a brief glance your way before he peppers kisses all across your face. Draws his lips down your jawline, hot and wet as he noses against your skin. He finds your pulse and darts his tongue across the sensitive skin of your neck. 

You keen. It’s a sudden sound, sensitive. Your body shivers. Caleb makes an affirmative noise and does it again. Scrapes the same spot gently with teeth.

Another pitchy moan escapes your lips. Caleb breathes from his nose like laughter. Places more experimental bites and licks all along your neck. Your voice slips before you can catch it. 

“Harder,” 

He appeases you. Just like always. Feeling his teeth in your neck makes your mouth fall open and you moan his name like a small prayer.

His teeth leaves marks along your neck at your request, hands at your waist to hold you in place as you learn more about your body. You can feel your shorts dampen as he does it. It overwhelms you, makes you tremble with every light breath and every sordid bite. You don’t have any experience, have nothing tangible to compare it to except the things you did alone in your bedroom. 

It doesn’t compare at all, though. No amount of relieving your sexual urges as a desperate teenager or fumbling against a stranger in a club even kind of helps your mind make sense of it. Caleb kissing and biting down your neck, his hands touching your skin—it’s the first time in your life you’ve ever felt it. First time you’ve known touch like this. 

First time your mind has been rendered so useless to think. 

He rests his mouth as his hands slide up your sides. You gasp slightly as they go underneath your shirt  but you don’t make any move to stop it. Further and further they go until the reach for your back. Searching for something.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” He whispers.. 

“I don’t at home,” 

He lets out a breath like the winds have been knocked out of him. “Right,”

“Are you into that?” You ask before you can stop yourself, surprised by the sound of your own voice. Caleb just laughs like he’s in disbelief. 

“Take a guess,” 

“I just don’t get it,” 

Caleb doesn’t say anything to that. But his hands maneuver. Stopped just underneath the swell of your tits, his eyes look up at yours and ask for silent permission. His shoulders sag with relief when he receives it. 

The way your chest fits in Caleb’s hands makes your breath hitch. Squeezing the fat of them, relishing how they feel between his palms. He’s quick after that, pulling your shirt up until it’s gathered underneath your neck. There’s an impatience to it that surprises you, something uncharacteristically lacking composure as he halfway undresses you. 

His eyes linger like that for a long time. So long it makes your face burn. 

“Stop staring,” 

“...I don’t know if I can.” 

There’s something like awe in his gaze. Your spine tingles, goosebumps appearing on his skin. The way his hands hold onto your waist. He presses his cheek just below your sternum with an loving sigh, kissing it as he picks his head back up. It’s sweet to the point it almost nauseates you. It might if it were anyone other than Caleb. 

His thumbs draw over your nipples, hardened from arousal. Your chest rises and falls in anticipation, in ache. Thighs squeezing together in a silent admittance. His touch is experimental, careful in observing what elicits the most reaction out of you. 

Chest tender, takes one of your nipples into his mouth without warning. You gasp, hand covering your mouth as you feel him smile against your chest. 

The air shifts again. Hotter, heavier—there’s a sudden carnality to the way he’s touching you. Mouth latched onto your nipples tenderly, grazing them lightly with the blunt end of his incisors like he can guess everything you like. His mouth on your chest is overwhelming. It baffles you that something can feel that good. Each time you think you can’t be surprised any more, Caleb makes good on making you feel better and you’re forced to eat your words. 

Between your legs is throbbing hard. Whatever Caleb can’t fit in his mouth, he teases with the rough pads of his fingers - brushing and squeezing and twisting. Alternating as to make sure nothing goes neglected. Your hips cant against air, frustrated by lack of friction. Caleb is relentless, but does not make any move to sate your growing desires. 

“Caleb,” 

His eyes are washed over as he looks up. A look on his face you don’t know, have never seen until now. His voice is low in the back of his throat, strong hands cupping your chest and squeezing. 

“‘Mm?” 

A sibling bond like this, you think, is to blame for understanding so quickly what Caleb wants. Something you know innately, deep in your subconscious that makes your cheeks grow hot. A hot, prickly feeling goes down your back and all your clothes suddenly feel restrictive. He sits and remains steadfast, but you can sense it too. 

It feels good but something is missing. Something is off. 

Despite his restless desire, he’s taunting you. Goading you. You groan and Caleb laughs.

“Don’t—Caleb. Please,” 

“Did you want something?” 

Another groan leaves your lips as his smile remains unfaltering. 

“You promised you were gonna make it feel better,” You say, so petulant and childish to your own ears you wince. 

Somewhat predictably, this works on Caleb right away. Overwhelming lust tucked carefully behind a thoughtful smile. “I did, huh?” 

“Don’t be a jerk,” You reply. He laughs but not for long.

He has something flash on his face at your reply. You just kind of know. “Sorry, sorry,” 

“Stop holding back.”

He looks surprised. “I’m not—” 

You nudge him with your knee. “You are. You think I don’t know you? Didn’t you say you wanted me to see you differently? Stop acting like a cool older brother. It’s annoying,” 

His expression is one of awe and amusement. It’s not quite that he’s irritated, but you can sense that you just barely get under his skin with the implication. 

 “Weren’t you the one who was crying about not wanting anything to change? Now you’re chiding me? You were acting so spoiled just a minute ago to get your way and now you’re saying you don’t want me acting like your big brother, hm?” 

Your eyes widen at the change in character. It still feels like Caleb, but it’s so intense. Too sincere to be completely playful. A strange mix of lust, nerves and fear wash over you. “Just—” 

He pushes himself back up to hover over you, swift as a hand cups your jaw, forcing your gaze up. Pure arousal shoots through your veins, almost unwittingly, as you catch sight of Caleb’s gaze. An vengeful quality to it. 

“Meimei,” He says, and your breath hitches. Your head is clouded with the immoral lust of hearing it this way. “Your older brother didn’t teach you how to lie, right? If you want something, say it with your mouth. Say it clearly,” 

A flush crawls onto your face, eyes darting away. Caleb allows you this much mercy. To let you look away feels kind. 

It’s an uncomfortable sort of feeling. To acknowledge what desire, what reaction you’re seeking. It’s unfair, and childish - since Caleb has done nothing but love you from the very moment you met him. Kind, gentle, considerate—you love him so deeply that it hurts to breathe just thinking about all you’ve experienced. 

Something about what you’re asking of him is ugly. Born of selfishness, the desire to have all of him, too. 

“Ugh, just—stop saying you want me and show me,” You say, full of distress. 

You see it in his eyes when something clicks. 

And then, with a sudden force, he kisses you. It’s rougher than the ones previous, deeper, greedier. What you want. You moan into his mouth as Caleb licks at your lips, pulling away to kiss your cheek. Sweet as always. 

“Don’t regret it,” 

The change is immediate. In a way, he’s still just answering to your desires - but you don’t dislike this part of him. Your heart rate kicks up as Caleb strips you of your shirt completely before settling himself back down to where he started.

From just beneath your breasts, all the way down the place of your belly and navel - Caleb places hot, wet kisses to your skin. No longer languid but hurried, long fingers curling into the very edge of your waistband as he drops down further and further before settling between your thighs. He glances up at you when he begins to pull down your shorts but doesn’t ask you for permission and it makes you feel a strange thrill when he doesn’t. 

Caleb tugs your shorts off and helps you wriggle out of them in one go - an audible groan escaping his mouth. Plain, tattered cotton panties hug your hips as you lay with your legs up. He nudges your thighs open as you place your feet flat on the bed. With your legs spread, your clothed cunt is readily visible.

He lets out a soft breath. When you look down, your eyes meeting—there’s something almost animalistic to him. A completely and utterly ruined expression, blush dusting across his nose and cheekbones. 

“I want to make you feel as good as you can, okay?” Caleb says breathlessly. 

He brings his mouth to your inner thigh, closer to your knee and places a sweet kiss on the skin. Both of his hands are gripping hard onto your hips, as he breathes in the scent over and over. It sets your body alight to see it in glimpses. His brow is furrowed as he sucks and bites sloppy hickies into the soft fat of your thighs - working his way up slowly. When he finds you properly marked on one leg, he repeats it on the other. 

You can feel the ache of fresh bruises. A sensation that coaxes a completely new wave of arousal straight from the deepest depths of your body. An impossible wetness soaking the paper-thin cotton, sliding down the curve of your ass from how keyed up the touch makes you. 

It’s less that he’s satisfied in his markings with you, more that his desire for you grows too heavy. Caleb stares at your pussy with eyes of pure, unmistakable reverence.

You have never been able to picture another human being looking at you the way he does. 

So much ardor. So much bone-deep, blood-red voracity in a single gaze. The shakiness of his breathing, the harsh grip of his hands, that unsteady look in his eyes as his nose and mouth hover over the soaked panties over your pussy. As if you can see the words repeating in his mind: want, want, want. Nothing more certain. 

Your whole body wracks with a shiver. You whimper with your hands fisted at your sides in anticipation. 

A startled gasp escapes you as Caleb doesn’t do anything but press his nose firm to your pussy and breathe. Deep and unrepentant like he’s trying to memorize the scent of you, use it to track you like a bloodhound. Embarrassed warmth floods your system and you squirm in protest of his actions. 

But you’re trapped there. Completely and utterly, rendered helpless by his gri. His eyes flicker up unfocused but quickly go back to being closed. It’s all the communication you need to know he intends to do exactly as you’ve begged him to do. To expose the extent of his unsavory appetite. Inhaling the scent of sweat and skin, of a day of lounging and leaving your pussy completely confined.

He looks so madly-in-love in the moment you find it hard to breathe even a word of protest. Your clit throbs unhelpfully in response. 

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream when Caleb finally, finally drags his tongue over the seam of your panties. He doesn’t pull them off—instead sucking the wetness from the material. Puffy clit helplessly pulled into the force of it while trapped under your panties, you buck your hip up against his tongue. Caleb obliges you. He points the tip of his tongue and slides it over the small bud through the cotton - completely stiffened from arousal. You shake at the touch, the wet promise of pleasure. How the drenched fabric of your panties gives the most gratifying, mind-numbing friction. You moan loud. You can’t help the sound that leaves you when he licks your pussy. 

You’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt this way, but you’re under the impression that most people will never know a pleasure like this in their life. 

When your underwear is completely saturated with spit - only then does Caleb let off from you. Without a single word of warning, he tugs away the material. Exposing your pussy, bare and throbbing - he blows warm air onto your clit and watches as you squirm. 

Another beat of admiring before his mouth latches onto your pussy again. Panties tugged away haphazardly, his tongue sliding from wet hole all through the seam, the soft folds of your pussy - settling at your clit. He licks experimentally, wading through your moans. When his tongue tastes your clit just the right way, you practically scream. 

With newfound dedication, he commits to worshipping your pussy with his mouth. 

It’s humiliating. Purely euphoric and undeniably stimulating, boneless as Caleb’s tongue laps desperately at your clit. His eyes shut, completely blissful - brows furrowed and moaning into you. He eats you out like it’s what he’s wanted to do his entire life and this is the last opportunity he’ll have to make good on his dreams. 

The corrupted thought lights fire under your body anew. To think of Caleb lusting for you when he shouldn’t be. Like a forbidden fruit, ripe and sweet and nearly his—nearly within his grasp but always just barely slipping between his fingers. Your kind, sweet, considerate older brother thinking of ruining your mind and body. The idea he’d been torturing himself over it makes you sad but more than that it incites impossible longing. You want him to want you even more than he does now. 

You can feel your body ache for it for the first time. Like a reply to his feelings, you think of how good it will feel when Caleb finally fucks you. Takes you, plucks you from vine  and claims you all for himself. 

But the act of him tasting you like this is more than good. The tender bundle of nerves is throbbing hard against the wet flick of his tongue - hips rutting to meet the perfect motion of his mouth. Something in your belly warms. Sweetens your senses and melts you from the inside like crystalized honey coming to liquid sugar over a flame. Your mind has melted away so utterly you can’t do anything but reach your fingers through his hair and chant his name. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is unfamiliar to you. Worked up beyond any rational understanding.. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb.” 

Closer and closer, Caleb remains completely persistent in his efforts. Licks your clit and laps up all the arousal that spills - silky fluid like ambrosia to the unending heat of his mouth.

The knot tangled inside of your body unravels with an alarming speed. Makes your eyes go wide before you shut them again hard, your spine arching off the bed - every muscle in your body going unbearably tense as Caleb’s tongue toys with your clit. The filthy sound of licking making your ears ring. 

Your body goes taut. It feels like a calamity. A pure rapture, like God himself is bringing pleasure. The kind that can only be derived from being your maker. Caleb has that in common with him, you think. 

Your voice rings loud, hands fisted in his hair. You’re cumming hard, and fast, and there’s white behind your eye-lids. Smatterings of bright stars as you press them shut. 

You cum so hard you can’t breathe. For a brief moment you’re weightless before it all comes crashing down in one swift go. Caleb eats you out through it relentlessly and your voice breaks on the syllables of his name - asking for mercy and receiving none. It feels so good it terrifies you. Your body is trembling, cunt spasming around his tongue as Caleb continues his assault. 

You feel something wet rush out of you but Caleb is undeterred. He drinks it all down, every last drop until he’s satiated at least some of his endless, terrifying thirst. 

When he pulls away from your pussy, his mouth is soaked in saliva and your cum. He looked the most satisfied you’ve ever seen him in your life. You’ve never been so scared of someone while being so unbearably aroused in the same breath. 

“You taste so fucking good. Better than I dreamed in my entire life. Need to taste it again. I almost don’t want to do anything else.” He laughs breathlessly. “Almost.”

“Caleb,” You whimper. completely helpless as you try to catch your breath. “Fuck, ‘m still cumming,” 

“Gonna make you cum over and over and over.” Caleb says cheery. “Promise,” 

After cumming the first time, your body's sensitivity increases tenfold. Where you think it’ll cool off the glaring heat, melting you down to your core - all it does is turn it higher, make the feeling more tangible. Caleb’s offer to make you cum again excites you more than it scares you. You stare at him when he comes up for air.

“Kiss?” 

“Even after all that?” 

You nod sheepishly. 

“Jeez. How cute can someone be?” 

He comes up for a kiss, surprised when you lick into his mouth. You like tasting yourself on him, tongue dipping in for more. Caleb smiles at your enthusiasm, eyes lidded when he pulls away. 

“Open your mouth,” 

You give him a blank stare but do as he says. He puts a hand on your throat, tipping your head back before you feel something warm hit your tongue. Your eyes meet Caleb’s in surprise, instinctively swallowing the spit as it slides down your throat. Caleb meets you with an eager kiss, a gentle affection in his voice. “Good girl.” 

Something washes over you hearing the praise. A soft moan into his mouth that leaves Caleb with raised brows. “You like hearin’ you’re my good girl, huh?” 

Your face feels hot. “...Maybe,” 

“Still so bad at lying, pipsqueak. Some things never change,” 

The affection in his voice makes you forgive him. You know the tone, the sound—the lilting coo of your older brother's voice when he’s teasing you. It’s a way of speaking you could recognize in a heartbeat, the kind of voice that you’re anxious without. It shouldn’t soothe you in this context, shouldn’t make your pussy feel so achy when you know exactly how he’s addressing you. 

Caleb kisses down the length of your body again. Neck to navel until he settles down between your thighs. You can’t mask your surprise. Caleb looks up at you from between your legs. 

“What? You thought one time would be enough for me?” 

Truthfully, yes. You’re a little startled at the thought he’s going to do it again. Make you feel all of that again. An anticipatory shiver makes you squirm but Caleb holds you in place. He presses another kiss to your clit. “One time doesn’t even come close to being enough.” 

True to his word, Caleb starts the process all over again. 

The second time around, he doesn’t let himself up to breathe. You’re locked in place as his increased familiarity with your body has him driving you over the edge even faster. Firm grip on your thighs, face buried between your legs - he laps at your clit for what feels like an endless amount of time. The pleasant warmth of his mouth paired with the focused, precise licks on your sweet spot make your body wrack with an impossible pleasure. It’s gentle enough to not be completely overstimluating - but his endurance, his persistence in doing it makes your experience a new high. A trembling mess of limbs and quiet, desperate pleas. Too much, too fast - toes curled as he hoists your legs over his shoulders to give him full access. Clit pulsating, stiff under his tongue with his nose bumping occasionally. 

It feels so good you’re almost content to let him stay there. Let your mind wash away and succumb to the gluttony tying you to the bed. You cum twice again from the pressure - your body experiencing each one longer. Unable to withstand it, your hands clenched tight trying to level yourself with the feeling. A pleasure you’ve never experienced, the kind you doubt you’d be able to feel with someone else. 

Caleb has always been like this in that respect. Your older brother who set the standard for every other man you ever came across. You were always using him as the gold standard, comparing every man you’ve ever met to him. Especially ones who claimed to like you. What would your brother do, how would he act, how would he treat you. He’d never tell you if you were too much. Never call you spoiled even when you act it, embody it so why settle for less? Why want for something else? For someone else?

It’s not surprising that Caleb touches you with the same level of care he’s always given you. Even less surprising that your body longs for it so desperately. 

Caleb is your big brother after all. He takes care of you like this. No one else gets to have it. It makes you entitled, moody, and emotional just to think of him acting this way with someone who isn’t you. 

Yearning and deep affection well up inside of you as these things cross your mind. Whisper to your longing as a deep, endless need overwhelms your mind. Your third orgasm steals the breath out of your lungs. A shockwave of emotions washes over you, as you tug at his hair. You let out a throaty whine. 

“Caleb,” You whimper, pulling him off. “Caleb,” 

Attuned to your emotions, Caleb is quick to pull away when he hears the audible distress. He pulls away from you, worried. “Shhh, hey. It’s okay, I’m here. Did you want to stop?”

You shake your head rapidly. Caleb gives you a small smile. “Just being a crybaby, then?” 

The truth is, yes, just a little. You can’t voice this to Caleb so you instead give him some unknowable, unreadable look. He reads it almost instantly, shifting himself to hug you tight. Without any words at all, like he knows every single thought that passes through your mind. You wrap your arms around him and nudge your nose against his neck. He smells familiar. 

“This what you wanted?” 

You nod against him. Caleb’s heartbeat is steady in a way that brings you bone deep comfort. 

“Be more pampered with me. More selfish, more demanding, more spoiled. Gege will do anything for you, so don’t hesitate.” 

Hearing him refer to himself that  way makes your stomach flip. You nuzzle yourself deeper into him, aroused by the sound of his laughter - playful but smug. You speak against his chest, words muffled. 

“Want it inside right now,” 

His breath hitches immediately. “Yeah?” 

Another nod. You pull away to look him in the eyes when you ask. You know how to beg Caleb for something. You’ve been doing it your whole life, and right now is the most sincere you’ve ever been. Doe-eyed and full lips, all covetous and coy the word falls from your mouth with ease. 

“Please,” 

It has the exact impact on him you want it to have. Groaning, the outline of his cock twitching with a shameful lust, almost blanking out at the thought. He scrubs a hand over his face. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” 

“Please,” You repeat. Caleb kisses you as if to stop you from saying it again. 

“I have to stretch you out on my fingers. It’ll hurt otherwise,” You open your mouth but Caleb cuts you off. “Don’t say it’s fine.” 

“Caleb,” You whine and he laughs sympathetically. 

“Be a good girl,” He placates, and it works on you just as maddeningly as your begging does on him. “Hm? For me?” 

You melt. How embarrassing.”...Fine,” 

He coos at you lovingly and you make no effort to deflect. You can’t. Your usual fire and wit, your banter is dissipated. Brain thoroughly undone from so many orgasms and the deep, aching want in your cunt - so apparent it makes you want to sob. A desperation to be full that you didn’t fathom existing in such a bodily way, something you thought only existed in porn. 

Sensing how strung out you are, Caleb changes positions again. Instead of laying between your legs, he curls up besides you. He turns on his side, sliding an arm underneath and hugs your body close to him. Like he’s cradling you. Your legs slot together, one of yours between both of his - your other leg on the outside. Caleb hikes your thigh up - high enough to have your legs spread. The arm not supporting your back is supporting you, his forearm underneath your thigh.

At this angle, you’re face to face. Caleb can see you clearly as he cradles you in his arms. A large hand squeezes your ass before reaching around - teasing your clit with long fingers.

You feel…small like this. It’s the way you’re being held. The feeling of Caleb’s arm under your back, sliding up to hold your neck. 

His fingers are exceptionally long. Slender and thin, with thick veins from wrist to pinky, more appearing less visibly to the rest. His palms are big- making up the bulk of their size. You feel yourself fixating on them in their movements. 

On the calluses on them from handling guns, to the few thin scars from your childhood that have remained on his body into adulthood - now scarred. The way his fingers caress you, stroke your clit slowly. He kisses you again with a silent question like: you like this, right?

The eagerness of your tongue into his mouth answers it for him, a puppy keen on greeting it’s owner. Caleb laughs sweet into your mouth, encouraging you with all the kindness he has in him. His fingers slides through your slick folds impressed until he reaches low enough to be at your hole. 

You’ve put your own fingers in there before. You think you can handle someone elses. 

You find out fast that you can’t. 

Caleb’s fingers are long. They’re thicker than yours, and longer than yours - and just the first one gives you a stretch you're not expecting. You shudder, a noisy breath. It’s an intrusion, a noticeable one. Caleb is careful, though. It’s easy for him to push the digit it when you’re so wet inside. A soft squelching noise makes your skin burn hot but Caleb goes on undisturbed. 

His finger reaches deep. He fucks it in so slowly and so carefully but it feels like it never ends. All the down to the knuckle with just the one, you find yourself shuddering. Caleb is quiet, but you can hear the labor in his breaths. Feel his cock pressed against your inner thigh and twitch. 

You moan his name instinctually - not for any particular reason and he says nothing. Just thrusts his finger in and out. How can something feel so different on the basis it’s someone else? You can’t hold still, rocking your hips against the sensation. Caleb groans unabashed. 

“You want it so bad, huh?” He says, half-delirious and so pleasantly smug. You nod  immediately. 

“A little more. Hang in there, okay?” 

Okay, you think. You’d do whatever it takes in the moment for Caleb to fuck you more quickly so you bite in the side of your cheek and try not beg stupidly each time he repeats the process. Another finger, longer than the last - stretching out, reaching deeper than anything has ever gone in your life, thrusting until your pussy takes it. It surprises you to know just how much you can take when you take three and you really feel  it. How soft it is inside.

“Enough,” You whisper hoarsely. 

Caleb doesn’t heed your request. Another finger goes in. It takes four for him to finally feel like it’s enough. Four fingers stroking from the inside out, an almost brutal precision curling against your g-spot. Not enough to cum, just enough to get so wet he can’t pull his fingers out without the filthiest noise you’ve ever had to follow it.

Completely out of your mind, you grab onto him weakly. Every ounce of shame and sense gone. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is a pant. “Fuck me. Please, please—just do it,” 

His own voice is no better than yours. “Gotta grab a condom from my—” 

Your voice is vicious. Like you’re lashing out at him. “No. Fuck me.” 

Caleb is quieted by it. Unsure of how to react. “Don’t be like that, baby.” 

A reprimand. Soft as ever. Tears well up in your eyes immediately. “Please hurry,” 

“We have to use a condom next time, okay?” 

You hear nothing that comes out of his mouth except the words next time, and nod. 

He gives in. You’re thankful he always does. You’re at your wits end and you don’t know if your body can handle any more waiting. Not getting what you want with Caleb unsettles and upsets you. Especially this strung out. 

Caleb rolls onto your back again after he pulls his fingers out. You whine at the loss, unwittingly falling onto your back with both legs open. Presenting yourself in some impossibly obedient way that you can’t catch quick enough to stop, knees bent and up in the air. Waiting impatiently for Caleb to follow. 

He follows suit moments later. His hand resting on your knees to spread your legs for him, taking in an eyeful of you as he stands on his own. 

At the angle you’re laying and with nothing to distract your senses - you can see Caleb in full shape. Your body responds in kind for you, throbbing between your legs as you cut his figure. Tall and strong and broad, visible muscles and deltas. There are veins above the lowcut of his waistband, thick and tempting. A little lower than that - a patch of dark hair that leads to…

Your throat feels dry seeing Caleb’s cock standing to attention, just underneath his sweatpants. Eyes blinking rapidly trying to make sense of it. How it strains, a wet patch where it ends. Your breathing slows significantly. Your mouth watering, mind fizzling like a bottle of champagne. The ache in you urges deeper, hand going between your legs to soothe it. Or maybe welcome what's coming. 

Caleb is breathless. Amusement undercut by lasciviousness. “Enjoying the view?” 

You nod stupidly. Caleb grins a little. Makes a show of hooking his thumb into the top of his sweats and tugging all the way down. A thick trail of hair and the smooth, uncut outline of his cock has you gasping. When he tugs his pants all the way pas his thigh, you feel completely speechless. 

He’s huge. Utterly. Too heavy to stand on its own, uncut, veiny. You blink in disbelief, like everything in the room has paused. It’s burly. Ridiculous. Thick enough to look like someone’s forearm. Pearls of pre-cum dribble of out of the tip, pulled back to be revealed. A ruddy reddish brown and angry. It’s darker then the rest, throbbing in a way that looks almost painful. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but that was on accident in a bath before it was—

You stop your train of thought and just stare for an unknown amount of time.

He looks sheepish. The tips of his ears crimson red, all the way down to his chest. You make an unintelligible noise at the sudden change in attitude and also at everything else. 

A sensible person would feel fear. Not your strong suit. You don’t know if it’s bravery or lust that inspires the reaction in your body. You just know you want him to fuck you so bad you might jump  on him to get it. 

“We don’t have to get in today, princess. We’ve got time to—” 

“If you try to deter me one more time I’m going to run away from home,” 

Caleb closes his mouth. He just mumbles something, but obliges you right after. 

In what can only be considered a miracle, Caleb finally settles between your legs. His hands are on top of your thighs as he taps his tip against your clit, rubbing the pre-cum into the mess, The feeling of skin on skin elicits a gasp out of you both. His voice is shaky. 

“Might not last,” He says hoarsely

“S’fine.” You put a hand between your legs and spread your pussy open for him a little wider. A move from porn that works on him instantly. He swears hard under his breath, not giving himself a chance to indulge in the feeling long. 

Tip nudging through slick folds—Caleb finally, finally slides in. 

Another synchronised moan, sweat breaks out onto your skin as you feel the thick tip of Caleb’s cock finally come through. You feel full. It’s completely different from four fingers, more invasive on your body than ever. . 

It elicits a chain reaction. You watch Caleb above you, death grip on your hips trying to keep his composure and not fuck a hole through you. A horrible part of you almost wants him too, even knowing you absolutely wouldn’t be able to take it. 

You’re trembling. It feels ridiculous but you’re so worked up that - 

“Gonna c-cum,” 

Caleb’s eyes blow wide. “From—fuck. That ain’t fair, you can’t,” 

You buck your hips up and groan. He’s stretching you out so fucking good. One more time and it’ll hit that spot and it’ll feel so perfect, so right. You need it. Caleb shakes over you. 

“Mercy,” He says, not sober enough to laugh. You’re going to lose your mind soon. Maybe you already have. 

“I-s it all in?” 

“Half,” Caleb grunts. You moan at the thought. 

“Fuck me. Shit, please,” Your voice breaks high on the last syllable. Caleb looks like he wants to protest, wants to tell you to take it slow. But you can see it in his face that he’s reached his limits. Or maybe he reached them a long time ago and he’s already far gone. 

But he listens. Your jaw goes slack and he pushes in. Inch by tortuous inch until you feel him bottom out. Feel his hips on the back of your thighs. His cock is throbbing inside of you, silken walls clinging onto the shape like you’re being pried open. It doesn’t take anything. He shifts as he bottoms out and your voice comes out in garbled, unintelligible noise. 

“O-oh, ‘m cumming, cumming, ngh,”  Your back arches up that leaves your mind blank. Completely white out, nothing but static as you cum again. Cum around the hard, intrusive length of your older brothers cock - bullying into your cervix until it’s wet and pliable and fuckable for him. Stretching out like it’s his to shape and mould. You can feel it in your body, each vein and each curve. Caleb lets out a whistle. Sharp and so fucking dark, it exicites you helplessly. 

“She’s clingy just like you,” He says, fond but sneering. 

Your head spins when it dawns on you on what he’s saying. 

“Caleb—” 

“I feel conflicted. Are you naturally this gifted?” He laughs, folding over you. Overtaken by something. Bending you under his weight. “Or is it because it’s mine that you’re making it so easy?” 

“I was worried, you know,” He pulls out. The disappointment and gaping emptiness are brief. You hear the way your body refuses him pulling out. “Worried about how such a tight hole would fit something so big. Worried about your body, but you’re taking me in so fucking well. So perfect,” 

You’re panting. It feels so good. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, limp under the weight of it as Caleb gives you a slow few thrusts to get you used to the size. But you’re so stretched and sensitive it just feels fucking incredible from the jump. 

“Be a good girl and let me in.” You clench down on him. He grins to himself. “That’s it,” 

He bottoms out again. Slams hips and fucks you in one swift, unforgiving motion. Groaning, he puts his hands up under your knees, driving his dick into you with animalistic need. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. Too good. I’m never gonna be able to think about anything else. It’s not like I was before but you’re-” Out, back in. You haven’t made a single coherent sound. “You’re just too good. It’s warm and wet and still so tight, how are you still so tight, huh? It’s like you don’t want me to leave.” 

For a brief moment, the two of you make eye contact. The vivid color of his eyes burns bright, pins you underneath the weight of his gaze. It goes straight to your stomach, making it flip in one smooth go. 

“Tell me it’s okay,”  Caleb says, barely restraining himself. 

You look up at him confused. He suddenly looks like he’s at his wits end. 

“Tell me it’s okay to fuck you hard,” 

Like a woman possessed, you reach your arms around to squeeze his back and biceps. You put your mouth close to his ear as you bring him down towards you. 

“Gege,” He twitches inside of you. “Fuck me as hard as you can,” 

You underestimate just what effect it’ll have on you. On him. As quick as he possibly can, he pushes his hands under your knees and folds you into a mating press so deep it makes you scream. He’s pistoning you instantly, pounding into your pussy like he owns. Your nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders without realizing. 

“I love you,” are the only words that come out of his mouth. It has you clenching down even harder. “Gege loves you more than anyone else in the world, okay? More than anyone.” 

Just like that, Caleb fucks you. Given up on being gentle but still trying to make you feel good, trying to touch somewhere no one ever will again - he folds you up under the weight of his body and fucks you with relentless stamina. Your mind is gone. His cock is fat and heavy inside of you, splits your pussy open as the tip knocks against your g-spot with each thrust. His balls smack against your ass on each go. 

It’s too much. For your brain, for your body, for your insides - getting permanently rearranged like he’s crushing your womb. A feeling like it should be painful, but it isn’t because he’s got you so good and open. This a reward for you both. For his patience. Every thought wrung from your head, impressed by your body’s own avarice for cock. Addicted to the feeling of getting strethed, gaped completely open. It feels like you’re cumming without a clear end. 

Wanting Caleb to cum inside of you is a distant thought. Pleasant like a lullaby as your body yearns for it. Another sharp orgasm builds. It builds and builds and builds - and you know’re going to be fucked through it again. 

But this time Caleb is close. Right alongside you. Sweating and panting in your ear as he pounds into your frenzied. 

His voice comes out like a whine and it turns you on even more. You say it before he can think of pulling out, tightening your legs around his waist. 

“Cum in me,” 

Caleb grinds himself deeper. “Gonna cum in you, baby. I love you, I love you—fuck!” 

Pure euphoria floods your entire nervous system as Caleb bottoms out one last time. His cum fills your pussy in thick, long spurts. It feels hot as it takes, makes you shiver with how it feels. Disappointed at the idea it’ll flood back out. 

Caleb, still balls deep - continues suddenly. Where you think he’s gonna pull out, he doesn’t. Instead he fucks you again, this time more clear-headed as he rubs your clit - a hand between your bodies. His voice is shot. 

“Sorry. Don’t wanna be selfish. One more nice and easy, then we’ll clean up?” 

You have no room to protest. After all, Caleb is nothing but relentless when  it comes to spoiling you. You let him fuck another orgasm out of you until you’ve got nothing left to give. 

He collapses on top of you after your pussy milks what's left of him

You kiss when he does, sweaty and tired. You look at his blissed out face and kiss his nose with affection. 

“I love you too, Gege.” 

He pauses then laughs. Brightly. Hopelessly. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” 

__ 

You aren’t sure when exactly you pass out. 

You remember lingering with Caleb in his bed before limping into the bathroom. And a bath too, if your memory serves you right. You must’ve fallen asleep in the tub with Caleb, the broad warmth of his chest lulling you right to sleep. You’ve got good endurance from being a hunter, but you’re tuckered out just thinking about earlier. 

Also a little embarrassed. 

You wake on the couch of the living room. Cleaned, changed, and tucked into with a blanket over you. There’s a scent and the quiet sizzle of a pan. Your limbs feel heavy as you pick your head up. It’s still dark out but it seems like morning. 

You rub your eyes as you swing your legs over and place them on the floor.

Standing to your feet, you find slippers at the end of the couch and feel your heart swell ten sizes. You put them on before padding into the kitchen. 

Caleb is at the stove like you thought he’d be. You flush seeing his back covered in scratches and a bite or two - none you remember leaving. You know your body is in the same state if not worse.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his broad back. Your voice is small, embarrassed. Everything feels brand-new. 

“G’morning,” 

Caleb turns the heat down and puts the spatula on the counter top, turning to face you. He looks down at you with a boyish grin. Unfairly handsome, making you pout. 

“Morning, sleepyhead. Feel okay?” 

You tuck your face into his chest and nod. “Just a little tired. I don’t hurt or anything.” 

“That’s good, then,” 

You make a little mm sound and stay there for a while. Caleb is content to hug you until you pull away. 

“Caleb?” 

“Hm?” 

Your face feels warm. “...Kiss?” 

He stops, then beams. Dips his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that feels romantic and practiced, but doesn’t make you feel strange in a bad way. You’ve never had a boyfriend, not a real one. Does everyone feel butterflies like this? 

Maybe there’s something wrong with you. He pulls away and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re less moody than you usually are when you wake up,” Caleb teases. “Good to know. An effective way to deal with your attitude is always welcome.” 

You frown at him, feeling furious for more reason than embarrassment. It’s really unfair how flirtatious he is. “Shut up,” 

Subconsciously, your hands are fisted as you cling to Caleb’s chest. With no shirt to hold onto you, your muscle memory finds it the most steady. They’re clenched hard from embarrassment and a flood of other feelings you need soothed. 

Caleb grabs your hand and unfurls them for you. Strong, warm, big hands grasp yours in their palm and open them both softly - fingers interlocking until you’re no longer so tense. Just melted away. 

“I’m right here,” He says. A wave of emotions passes over you. 

You hold his hand and squeeze it. Once, twice - it has a steadiness the grip of fabric doesn’t. 

You smile to yourself. Helplessly happy. Overwhelmed with pure, unrelenting love. 

“Yeah,” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. “You are,” 

[bytemee]

crying on stream (not clickbait) — yu jimin.

synopsis. you really need to stop playing random horrors at 2 am.

pairing. karina x gn!streamer!reader

warning(s). reader cries at a horror game, emotional support gf karina, this is so silly and sweet, let me know if there's more

words. 639

authors note. 1/2 drafts im posting tn before all the freaky stuff and angst floods my page. this is also based off this tiktok i saw

masterlist. navigation.

you had no idea why you thought playing a horror game at 2 a.m. was a good idea—especially with karina asleep in the next room. but here you were, curled up in your chair, gripping your keyboard like your life depended on it. your chat was loving every second, spamming laughing emojis and "you're so cooked" messages.

then, it happened.

the door behind your character slammed shut. the screen flickered. a deep, guttural noise rumbled through your headphones.

you froze. your breath caught in your throat, hands hovering over the controls, but you could not bring yourself to move.

"no, no, no, no, no..." you whispered, barely making a sound.

username LMAOOO YOU'RE SO DONE username WHY AREN'T YOU MOVING HELLO?? username NAH THIS IS BAD 😂

your fingers twitched over the keys, but before you could even think about getting out—

the screen went completely black.

your headphones crackled. a distorted whisper slithered through the speakers, low and scratchy, like something breathing right into your ear. then, for half a second, the lights in the game flickered back on—

the killer was right behind you.

you slammed the pause button.

your whole body locked up, muscles so tight it felt like you might pass out. chat was going insane, but their messages barely registered.

you couldn't scream. not with karina asleep. you couldn't even let out a proper gasp.

instead, a quiet sob slipped out before you could stop it.

you pressed a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as you tried to breathe. tears welled up, but you blinked fast, trying to keep yourself together.

username ARE YOU CRYING BRO?? username NAH THIS GAME REALLY BROKE THEM username this is so sad but funny at the same time 😭😭😭

after a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to unpause.

you needed to get out.

with shaky hands, you turned the lights back on, unlocked the door, and ran. the second you stepped out of that room, you ripped your hands off the keyboard, dropping them into your lap as a deep exhale left you. a few stray tears slipped down your face, and you wiped them away, sniffling.

"oh my god," you muttered, still feeling the adrenaline in your veins.

then—

a tap on your shoulder.

you screamed.

the fear you'd been barely holding in came crashing down all at once. you flinched so hard your chair almost tipped over, another choked sob slipping out as you panicked.

your chat lost their minds.

username HELPPPP username THAT WAS NOT THE GAME?? username DID Y'ALL SEE THEIR SOUL LEAVE THEIR BODY username I THINK THEY JUST DIED IRL

then came the worst part—a soft, familiar laugh.

your head snapped to the side, eyes wide as you saw karina standing there, looking impossibly amused despite being fresh out of sleep. dress in your an oversized hoodie, her hair a little messy, she smiled at you before shaking her head.

"you're so dramatic," she whispered, barely containing her giggles.

you didn't even have the energy to argue. Without thinking, you reached for her, pulling her into a hug off-camera. she easily melted into you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin on your head.

username WHO IS THAT???? 😳

username WE CAN SEE THE SHADOW WTF username THE WAY THEY JUST WENT SILENT TO HUG THE AIR LIKE BFFR

karina ran her hand up and down your back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before whispering, "you okay?"

you nodded against her shoulder. "i hate this game."

she snorted. "then stop playing horror games at night, hm?"

you sniffled. "never."

she sighed, but she didn't let go. for a while, you just stayed there—holding onto her, ignoring chat's growing curiosity, letting your heartbeat finally slow down. eventually, she whispered, "wanna sleep now?"

you exhaled. "yeah."

with a final squeeze, she pulled back and grabbed your hand, and you turned back to your stream, rubbing your eyes before clearing your throat.

"alright, chat," you muttered, voice still wobbly. "i'm ending stream. i need therapy."

the last thing chat saw before you disconnected was your teary eyes, ruffled hair, and hand out of frame, fingers curled like you were holding onto something—someone.

then, you were gone.

[snickerdoodlebaby]

Thanos/Choi Subong NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: NSFW (18+), smutty, substance use, manipulation (this takes place pre-games btw!)

I imagine you two to have a friends with benefits situation. Subong doesn’t like commitment and the sexual tension between you guys is too intense to ignore.

His motto is “tits or ass? why not both?”

Would love to get you to smoke weed with him, especially the lazy messy makeout sessions that ensue during it

Has tons of experience. Don’t worry, that translates to veryyy good things for you in the bedroom, he’s so goddamn good at eating pussy.

Loves your legs over his shoulders, pressing your legs to your chest, mating press, anything that evolves him feeling up your soft legs/thighs and bending your body in half.

Doesn’t take off his cross while he fucks you. It dangles between you two as he’s above you, resting coldly on your boobs when he leans down to connect your mouths in a sloppy kiss.

Can be mean in the bedroom, but mostly very cocky and just loves to see you embarrassed and flustered. Loves the huge ego boost he gets when you cover your face in embarrassment or you can’t help the cute pathetic noises leaving your lips. You’re so cute! He’s not below making fun of you until you pout with your plump bottom lip out, and he loves to tease.

Loves when you whine his name out, “Subong…” and give him your pleading puppy eyes. He’ll grin widely and pinch your cheek, sometimes giving you what you want. Most of the time makes you beg for it while you try to hide your blushing face.

“Beg Thanos if you want it so bad.”

Will refer to himself in the third person cuz he’s silly and cocky like that

I imagine him living the high life in a mansion before he lost all his money to crypto. It’s big, modern, lots of marble and granite. Throws tons of parties where everyone gets shit-faced. Loves loves loves you being there so he can sling his arm around you the entire party. If you’re a party girl you’ll be living the dream everyday of your life. If not, well, you better get used to it, the drug scene and all.

That being said about his house, his room is a stark contrast to the rest of his place. Dim lights, neon signs along the walls spelling out his name in Korean and english, dark red walls and black accents. Various music equipment lying around, a futon (his favorite place to get blowjobs from you), a few weights, and his king-size black bed which is never made. Smoke almost always clouds the room creating a dream-like atmosphere. It always smells like weed or sweat in there and his floor is covered in clothes (some of them being yours that you forgot about).

LOVES LOVES LOVES IT when you wear one of his shirts and just panties. It’s so oversized on you and hangs off one shoulder. He thinks you look so sexy like that. Your favorite shirt to borrow is his neon green one, it smells so good, so Subong.

Pretty fit but not overly muscular. He’s got great pecs and loves to walk around shirtless ‘cause he knows you’re so weak for it (and just because).

So often you’ll show up at his place and he’ll be lazily walking around without a shirt on and a baggy pair of shorts slung low on his hips, far enough to see the brand of boxers he’s wearing. His cross laying on his bare chest between his pecs. Makes your legs wobbly.

He’s constantly got scratch and claw marks down his back from you. And lovesss to show it off.

Loves to pay for you to get your nails done (so you can scratch him with em), honestly loves to pay for your everything and I can see him using money recklessly to show off. Will never let you buy anything when you’re with him.

Will be trying to get you to use. If you don’t already, he’ll see it as a conquest to corrupt you. He knows it’s bad and doesn’t really care, he’d love to bring you down to his level if it meant you two could feel good together. Will definitely be manipulating you into taking a pill from his cross.

“C’mon baby, it’ll make y’feel so good. Ya trust me right?”

Gives you substances through sexual methods only. Popping a pill in his mouth and kissing you, pushing it through your lips with his tongue. Putting a pill on his tongue and sticking it out for you to lick off. Blowing smoke & vapor into your mouth.

Has a thing for your mouth and lips. The view of your lips stretched around the base of his cock is his favorite thing in the world. When you leave lipstick stains on his pelvis he doesn’t want to wash it off afterwards.

This man has a tattooed and pierced dick — he has no shame and a high pain tolerance. He has a dark solid line running down his shaft (like the one on his neck), a ladder piercing and a stud at the tip (like a Prince Albert piercing). You couldn’t lie, it intimidated you when you first saw it, your eyes going really wide when it sprung out of his boxers. He laughed above you at your reaction, a lopsided smirk forming on his face. How was that gonna feel inside of you…? “M’gonna make you feel so good baby.” Turns out he was right, it felt fucking fantastic.

Nicknames he has for you include baby, babe, senorita, flower, mamacita when he’s feeling playful. In bed it’s my slut, whore, Thanos’s whore, plaything. “My bitch” when he’s drunk or on strong substances.

Wants you to get a tattoo of his name so fucking bad. Has brought up the idea in passing a few times, seeming not super interested. But in reality he’d find it so fucking hot, especially if it was on a hidden part of your body like your ass cheek, the word “Thanos’ bitch” surrounded by a heart inked into your plush flesh.

Would spank the shit out of that tattoo on you.

Loves to spank you in general, needs to see that ass jiggle when it’s bouncing against his bare hips.

100% records you during sex and loves taking photos of you (whether you realize it or not during the moment). Has an entire photo album dedicated to it <3

I need to see more of him before the games, that 2 second clip was not enough smh.

[checkeredflagggs]

Footnote of a Story

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: Logan and his girlfriend have been together for over 10 years — people have posted about it 8 times

a/n: this is canon to the story of us story, just some backstory that probably won’t be talked about in the main story at all

a/n2: I fiddled about with the timeline of the Covid quarantine — namely that it was already happening by Valentine’s Day

a/n3: I also don’t know when Oscar and Lily started dating so here it’s when they’re 16

Masterlist | Taglist

10 Years Old

y/ns_mother

liked by sargeant1, l/n1, sargeant2, and 183 others

y/ns_mother: well it looks like y/n has a crush…she was very determined to make “the bestest card ever and make sure it’s the good candy mom!”

view all comments

sargeant1: logan was the same way…he nearly talked me into buying a bouquet bigger then is he for her

↳y/ns_mother: they’re so adorable

↳sargeant1: they really are

sargeant2: oh young love…

↳l/n1: i guess when you know you know…doesn’t matter the age…i guess

↳sargeant2: they are very cute together

randocousin: giving us all old timers a bad name 😹

↳drunkaunt: bah they won’t last…once they get to the real world…nothing ever lasts…

↳rudecousin: just cause your marriage failed doesn’t mean theirs will. You’re just a mean old drunk

↳randocousin: not this shit again…

not_y/n: not_logan I told you — I knew very young that you were the one for me

↳not_logan: I won’t doubt you again babe

↳not_y/n: I don’t know why you doubted me in the first place ngl liked by not_logan

not_oscar: oh so you guys have always been this grossly in love

↳not_y/n: booo you grinch liked by not_logan, not_lilyz

12 Years Old

y/n_mother

liked by l/n1, drunkaunt, weirduncle, sargeant3, 212 others

y/ns_mother: we might have a little baker on our hands…y/n was adamant that she had to cook these cookies all by herself

view all comments

l/n1: she didn’t even let me have one…

sargeant3: logan was beaming when he came home with these…

↳y/ns_mother: I’m not going to tell them of course…but we’ve started a little wedding fund for them

↳sargeant3: so have we. It’s very obvious where this is going to go

↳y/ns_mother: oh I can’t wait…

drunkaunt: their still together??

↳rudecousin: they’re*

↳rudecousin: and they are! Shockingly relationships can last longer then the hangover the next day

↳drunkaunt: do not start something with me…you weren’t they’re for it

↳rudecousin: there*

↳randocousin: must you rudecousin?

↳rudecousin: she makes it so easy!

↳drunkaunt: your a mean little man

↳randocousin: don’t

↳rudecousin: …you’re drunkaunt

not_logan: I didn’t know you baked those!

↳not_y/n: yeah that was the last time I attempted that

↳not_y/n: not pictured was my mom’s destroyed kitchen…liked by not_logan

14 Years Old

y/n privated a post

liked by y/ns_mother, sister, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 469 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: 💜💜 he got me a card!

view all comments

logansargeant: I always get you a card!

↳y/n: I know but now I can post it for everyone to see!

y/ns_mother: oh to see you guys now…4 years strong

↳y/n: moooooommm go be embarrassing on your own post

oscarpiastri: so you’re the reason he couldn’t stop looking at his phone?

↳y/n: I am! And you are?

↳logansargeant: y/n this is one of my friends from karting! Meet Oscar — he’s the Australian

↳y/n: hi Australian Oscar!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean best friend logansargeant?

↳y/n: HE DOES NOT CAUSE THATS ME!!

↳logansargeant: my best karting friend but the best friend spot has always been hers liked by y/n

16 Years Old

not_logan

liked by not_y/n, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 392 others

tagged: not_y/n

not_logan: a small day spent together before someone goes off on a national tour!

Congrats baby — I’m so fucking proud of you 🩵🩵

view all comments

not_y/n: thank you babe! For both the day and for the constant support you’ve given me over the years

↳not_logan: always!

not_oscar: congrats again on the tour y/n!

↳not_y/n: thanks osc! And lmk if you can make any of the dates — I’ll get you tickets

↳not_oscar: oh Logan already has it all planned out

↳not_y/n: awwww

y/ns_mother: oh I’m so proud of you two

↳not_y/n: mom please…

↳not_logan: thanks mum l/n!

↳not_y/n: don’t encourage her!

not_lilyz: oh you guys are so cute!

↳not_y/n: thanks Lily!

↳not_y/n: and thanks again for making a private account

↳not_lilyz: oh that’s not a problem — and is probably good planning for the future

↳not_oscar:😳😳

yoursister: haven’t heard from drunkaunt in a while…she ok?

↳rudecousin: still drunk and mean

↳not_y/n: it’s just neither Logan or I friended her — in fact I blocked her on this account 😂

↳yoursister: good call

18 Years Old

not_y/n

liked by not_logan, y/ns_mother, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 273 others

tagged: not_logan

not_y/n: awwwweee… my baby surprised me back in Florida. Thank you for coming home to me for Valentine’s Day

view all comments

not_logan: glad I managed to catch you before you leave me again 😔

↳not_y/n: nooooo I’m so sorry baby

↳not_y/n: you say the word and I’ll pack you up in my suitcase and take you everywhere with me

↳not_logan: …I’m not there yet but I’ll let you know

y/ns_mother: oh I’m so glad you managed to catch her…with my handwriting I wasn’t sure if she left the 13th or the 18th…

↳not_logan: thanks for all your help mum l/n!

↳not_y/n: thanks for helping him surprise me mama

↳y/ns_mother: of course baby

not_oscar: I don’t think that’s part of your diet Logan…

↳not_lilyz: like you haven’t cheated on yours a hundred times in the last month…

↳not_oscar: 😑😑

↳not_y/n: have I mentioned I love you recently lily?? liked by not_lilyz

rudecousin: heads up — drunkaunt spotted this over my shoulder and started a rant while going for her keys

↳not_y/n: …I’m gonna go start my tour early…

↳not_logan: I’m gonna head back to England real fast

↳yoursister: cowards

↳not_y/n: yup

↳not_logan: absolutely

20 Years Old

not_logan

liked by not_y/n, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 231 others

tagged: not_y/n

not_logan: fun activities to do while locked up during Valentine’s Day…

view all comments

not_y/n: we’re gonna be cooking champs by the time this ends 💪🏻

↳not_logan: I love you so much but I really hope we’re not locked up that long…

↳not_y/n: 🥺🥺🥺

↳not_logan: again I love you so much but we burned water yesterday…

↳not_y/n: ok that’s fair

↳not_oscar: how???

↳not_y/n: we’re simply that talented

↳not_logan: we got distracted 😉😉

↳not_oscar: ewww I don’t need to know that liked by not_y/n, not_logan

y/ns_mother: oh I hope you guys are doing ok…I’d be there for you if I could…love you guys…

↳not_y/n: we’re doing ok mama!!

↳not_logan: …we’re not dead yet but our lack of kitchen skills are becoming more evident…

↳y/ns_mother: oh no…don’t worry baby…I’ll get yoursister to help me video you…I’ll teach you to cook…

↳not_y/n: thank you mama 🙏🙏

not_lilyz: ok so I’m a little jealous…

↳not_y/n: awwww lily we miss you!

↳not_lilyz: miss you guys too

↳not_oscar: 🤨

↳not_lilyz: …their food looks so much better than yours

↳not_y/n: at least you guys can cook something — ours is just anything we could cut into a heart shape… liked by not_lilyz, not_oscar

bandmember: you guys are so cute…

↳not_y/n: thank you 😊

↳not_y/n: also check your mail…there might be something for you…😈😈😈

↳bandmember2: oh???????

sargeant4: how’s the weather over there?

↳not_logan: 😑🙄 cold and snowy

↳not_logan: not that we can see any of it…

↳not_y/n: it could be worse!

↳not_logan: how?

↳not_y/n: we could be stuck in your apartment and not my house

↳not_logan: …that’s true I guess

22 Years Old

logansargeant posted a story, not_y/n posted a story

[thank you to my girl! 🩵🩵🩵][oh Logan my love…an ocean apart and yet you spoil me so…]

user1 replied A GIRL?!? Logan Sargeant do you have a girlfriend!

user2 replied GIRLFRIEND???

georgerussell63 replied oh that’s cute!

oscarpiastri replied maybe I need to tag Lily in this…

↳logansargeant oh she’s already seen it

↳oscarpiastri 🫣😨

↳logansargeant didn’t know you wanted flowers and presents though…

↳oscarpiastri who doesn’t…

oscarpiastri replied you guys keep setting the bar high

↳not_y/n gotta get on my level osc

↳oscarpiastri 🙄

lilyzneimer replied brb going to make Oscar take notes…

↳not_y/n he said pretty much the same thing…

↳lilyzneimer 🤣🤣

yoursister replied you guys are literally the only reason I believe in love still

↳not_y/n awww babes it’ll happen for you soon

↳yoursister maybe sooner than you think…

↳not_y/n oh???

y/ns_mother replied oh your young love…

↳not_y/n he’s the one mama

↳y/ns_mother oh baby I know…I’ve known for over a decade now…

↳not_y/n 🥰🥰🥰

25 Years Old (after the Story of Us)

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer and 12,697,283 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: You can hear it in the silence, You can feel it on the way home, You are in love, true love

view all comments

user3: oh my god so lovely!

user4: Logan Sargeant I wasn’t familiar with your game…

lilymhe: oh my god did Logan get you all that?

↳y/n: he did! He’s a real romantic

↳lilymhe: awww 🥺

↳lilymhe: alex_albon take notes please

↳alex_albon: oh no

↳oscarpiastri: oh this is very common

↳oscarpiastri: get used to it. They’ve been like this since they were 10

↳user5: shut up that’s so cute

oscarpiastri: please stop

↳logansargeant: I will not.

↳y/n: you just gotta do better

↳oscarpiastri: I try but you guys keep raising the bar

↳y/n: skill issue

↳user6: you can tell you guys have been friends for a while…

↳y/n: about 10 years now!

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @theendofthematerialgworl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478

[nodoubtily]

reader trying to take control but niki puts her in her place? 🫠🫠

TW:// angry sex so MDNI, bratty reader, annoying as fuck reader, possessiveness if you squint, choking, bulge kink, vulgar words and language, usage of pet names (good girl, bitch, slut etc..), thigh fucking. NOT proofread. Lmk if I missed anything!!

ALSO I FORGOT I HAD THIS ANON ASK IN MY DRAFTS TEEHEE here u go pookie 🫶

Fucking brat.

You’d like to say you don’t know how you got in this situation. But see, that’d be a lie.

The day started like any other. But that quickly changed, as seemingly everything got on your fucking nerves. And Niki did not know why. You weren’t on your period- you had met him know that (by snapping at him that you weren’t). You had a good night of rest, and Niki knew he hadn’t done anything because he’s carrying on with the routine he’s imprinted in his mind, and you’ve never been angry at him for that before.

So he was really confused, to say the least. And as the day progressed, you only became more bratty. More independent. Which, in hindsight, should’ve shown how the night would go. But all Niki wanted was to make you feel better. So he dealt with the snarky responses, the groans of frustration and the constant eye rolls. He powered through, as today was probably just a bad day. His turning point would boil over soon enough though…

“I don’t fucking know?” You retort, venom dripping through your teeth. Niki sighs, pushing through.

“Baby..” he tries a new approach, slowly walking to your stiff body. His hands find your waist, and he pulls you slowly to him, pressing you against his body. His breathing calm, hands cold and eyes wider. You, still breathing fire, try to push him away, but you both know you don’t really want him to.

“Want me to make you feel better?” His voice is soft when he speaks, edging his face closer to yours. You scoff.

“I don’t care.” You shrug. He nods, gently wrapping his hand in yours, interlocking fingers as he leads you to your shared bedroom. He takes you to the bed, laying you down on your back, hovering over you. His lips find yours, in a slow kiss that turns more desperate.

He begins a trail of kisses down your jawline, to your neck, nibbling at the pulse, before making his way below. His hands bunch at the hem of your (his) shirt, lifting it as his kisses progress to your abdomen. You sit up slightly so you can pull the shirt off completely, leaving you bare, the cold air awakening your nipples. He stops at where your pajama shorts start, seeking silent permission with his eyes.

You tsk. “I haven’t stopped you yet?” He takes that as a yes, ripping your shorts down your legs. He’s internally shocked, seeing the sight of your bare pussy. You weren’t wearing panties. “Well?” Your hands clasp onto his hair, pulling his head down. Niki feels his blood spike, anger rising silently, almost as if it wasn’t there.

His tongue laps at your folds, awakening your pussy. Then, with no warning, his lips grasp your clit, sucking harshly. Your legs twitch, your thighs closing around his head mercilessly. A loud, short moan erupts from your throat.

“Give me more…” even now you’re still demanding. Niki allows you to take control, planning on tiring you out until you’re not longer a rude girlfriend, but you only seem to be getting worse now you’re getting your way again. Shit, Heeseung Hyung is right. Niki does spoil you.

Niki’s fingers trail along your entrance, and your hips buck into his face more. “Don’t fucking tease me..” with that, he elicits a moan out of you again when he shoves his middle and index finger inside at once. “Fuck!” You exclaim. Pulling his head back, you glare at him. “Prep me next time, fuck.”

He continues to ignore that, admitting to himself that was a moment of pettiness. He did not like that fact you pulled his away, just to shove back where it was. The breaking point was when you tried degrading him. “My little fucking slut. Eating me out ‘cause I’m angry. Maybe you should’ve have been a fucking lest today.”

And just like that, Niki rips his head away from your cunt, opening your legs wider. You groan, that turns into a pained whimper as Niki lands a slap to your cunt. “Shut the fuck up.” You’re gagged.

Niki gets off the bed, stripping himself of his clothes, before returning to his previous position.

“What the hell are you-“

“What did I say?” His voice cuts through yours, and you, as if a stubborn child, plop on your back, arms folded, huffing in annoyance. “Keep quiet if you want me to even think about letting you cum.”

“I’m going to cum.” You snap back.

“Not with this fucking attitude you’re not.” His voice replicates yours, and you take offence to it, as if that’s not how you’ve been speaking all day to him. When you don’t have a response, he hums. “Already doing better.” His hand wraps around his cock, stroking it a few times to get it really hard, before lining his tip to your entrance. You breath hitches, waiting for the stretch, but huff again when you don’t get it.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Beg.”

“I’m sorry? What?” Your voice is laced with shock. “Beg?” You mock.

“Beg me to even slide the tip in.” Niki teases his tip along your slit, applying pressure every now and then. At the lack of response, he rests his cock on your public bone as his hands grab the outside of your thighs, slamming them together around his shaft. He starts rocking his hips, his body meeting your thighs as he fucks himself with your thighs, barely scraping your clit as his balls slam against your entrance, which is already leaking with arousal.

Niki’s head falls back, the sensitivity getting to him as he becomes more vocal, little groans leaving from his chest.

“Put it in..” you whine, attempting to pull your thighs away, but he’s too strong.

“Beg me to.” He repeats, unbothered. “Or I’ll just cum like this and leave you to your own fingers. You can finger yourself as long as you can, not even reaching to your orgasm because you’re so pathetic to point you need me for everything.”

“Fuck! Whatever. Please.” Niki doesn’t relent, your clit throbbing with need as he continues to use your thighs for his own satisfaction.

“You don’t want to fucking cum?” He chuckles mockingly. “Fine by me.” He speeds up even more, which gets you more desperate.

“No please! I want to cum. I need to cum! I want you inside! Please fuck me. Need it so bad— please!” You relented, your need to feel him overpowering everything else. He stops straight away, wrenching your legs apart again.

“Was that so fucking hard?” He spits as he slams his cock in one go. He bottoms out quickly, giving you the courtesy to adjust. He doesn’t give you long though, adamant on fucking the brat out of you.

His hips pull back to the point he almost slips out, before he slams back in, jolting your body, bouncing your tits. He continues that a few more times until he works you both up a bit more.

“So fucking rude. All day, so rude to me as if I wasn’t doing everything to help you.” His frustration fuels his stamina even more, thrusts hard and merciless, knocking the wind out of you. “Did this shit wrong, did that wrong. Was never enough for your bitchiness.” Loud, shaky gasps and whines left your mouth, feeding on every word he throws at you, causing your cunt to throb even more.

“You dirty girl. Clenching on my cock like a hungry whore. Be glad you’re even getting it. Should just cum in you and fuck off.” His mouth only releases dirty words, the smell of sex quickly flooding the atmosphere.

“G-gonna,” you find difficulty remembering how to speak, mind only on Niki and his big dick.

He laughs again, sneering at you, ostracising you. “Already fucked stupid and I’ve barely even started.”

“Gonna c-cum.” Your voice is whiny, pleading. Your eyes widen in desperation, scared he’ll deny you of the pleasure. “Please, god. Baby, please let me fucking cum. Want to make a mess on you, fucking please.” Your voice is heaving, heavy sighs and desperation flooding your speech.

“Make a mess on me, hm? Wanna coat my cock with your slick? Decorate our sheets with your liquids?” He asks, hands creeping along your body. One finds itself wrapped around your neck, applying pressure every few seconds before realising. The other palms your lower abdomen, causing you to cry out in pleasure as he feels his bulge, pressing it even tighter in your hole. “My pretty cocksleeve. My stupid whore. You’re all fucking mine.” You nod, albeit with difficulty due to Niki’s hand, but you nod needily.

“You’re cocksleeve. Your whore. Want all of it— please!” Your hands grasp his biceps for support, feeling unsteady as his hips bash into yours without much thought.

Niki suddenly pulls out, and before you get the chance to ask why, he flips you into your stomach, manhandling you so the side your face is pressed against the pillow, your ass lifted as high as your arch in your back will allow. Niki lands a few slaps to each of your ass cheeks, before sliding in once more. This new angle reaches deeper, and you both collectively moan loudly. Both his hands rest on your hips, fucking into you from behind as your moans are muffled by your hair and pillow.

“Want to cum?” He asks.

You nod quickly. “Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes—“ your eyes roll back, pussy exploding all over Niki’s cock as you tremble through your orgasm, riding it out as he fucks you through it, prolonging it. “Fuck yes—! Thank you so much, thank you so fucking much, baby.” You thank him, before the overstimulation overwhelms you, and you whine again.

“I’m gonna cum.” Niki announces, hands everywhere, before one again wraps around your throat, pulling your body up from the bed, flushed against your back whilst the other works his fingers over your puffy clit. “You’re gonna cum with me.”

You shake your head. “T-too sensitive.” You beg.

“You’re going to cut with me or I pull out.” You nod, arching your back so he hits you G-spot once more. His tip abuses that soft pad, working your way to your other orgasm as he speeds up, including his fingers. He keeps this up, until he presses his hips flush against your ass, shooting his hot whiteness deep inside of you, more seeping out as your orgasm prolongs once more. “Fuck. You’re so fucking tight, baby.” He sighs, panting as he continues riding your highs together.

“Mm-fuckkkk.” You’re absolutely fried. Your body plops onto the bed once more when Niki lets go of you, legs shaking and quivering as you forget to do anything else but lay.

“Feeling better?” You nod at his question. “You’re not going to be a bitch anymore?” He asks you again. You shake your head. “Good girl.” Niki doesn’t expect anything more from you, and you’ll most likely apologise for it tomorrow when you’re in the right mindest, most likely resulting in your kneeling between his legs.

I literally forgot this existed…I’m so sorry what the fuck.

perm taglist — @jyikeu @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

[harbours-lighthouse]

you give jason todd a scare

(inspired by this post).

author's note — what’s this? another post about jason? wild.

You should have been home three hours ago.

Jason’s hands tighten around the handlebars of his motorcycle. The leather fabric of his gloves crease, slick with rain and pinching around his fingers. It’s not often that you hang back for so long afterhours, though Jason is well aware that you offer your help without second thought, often forgetting about everything else in favour of assisting where you can.

But it’s been three hours since your usual closing time, and you haven’t sent him a text yet. You always send him a text.

Clenching his jaw, Jason wipes his arm across his face harshly, brushing away the rain that lingers on his lashes. It’s not the vibrations of the engine beneath him that’s sending his thighs subtly shaking—no, it’s the adrenaline slowly inching into his system, the panic he can feel twisting inside his chest.

What if you’re alone in the pouring rain? Soaked to the bone?

The traffic light blinks green, and Jason squints through the sheets of rain while kicking back the stand. The line of cars jolt forward, brake lights dimming as tires roll across rain-soaked asphalt.

Exhaling sharply, Jason’s eyes constantly search around him, feeling as if he’s some sort of cop looking for the slightest infraction. None of Gotham’s cops do that here, but it’s what he’s seen in the few movies you’ve made him watch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Jason murmurs beneath his breath, body leant forward as rain pricks against his skin, tapping violently against his leather jacket.

“Where? Tell me where…”

The traffic lights ahead glow a bright red, blurred by the onslaught of water, and Jason holds down several curses and a groan. He can feel the dread in his stomach, wrapping around his intestines as he slowly comes to a stop behind a white KIA.

He needs to reach your workplace—he has to see if you’re still there, and that, maybe, your phone is just dead. It must be, because he tried to track down the location of your mobile, but nothing had come up. No blinking blue dot on his screen revealed your location to him, and nothing on Earth would get him to ask Oracle to step in. He has this under control. He’s not going to panic. Not yet.

As cars rumble around him and the bike’s engine rattles beneath him, Jason silently berates himself for not having some sort of conversation about things like this with you. He should have given you instructions on what to do if your phone dies, or if you can’t get home for some reason—he could have prevented all of this if he had just given you the right steps to take. And what if you’re in more danger than he thinks? Wouldn’t it be his fault if you weren’t prepared at all or trained to some small degree in order to defend yourself? If anything bad has happened to you, that would fall on him. Without a doubt.

A horn blares behind Jason, echoing painfully in his ears. The lights have flashed green, the neon colour reflecting off the cars as they lumber forward again. He would have sent the guy a rude gesture over his shoulder, but you’re running through his head—bright eyes made gentle when they lock with his, and your words quiet and low like always. He’s sure that you speak quietly for him personally, like it’s your mission in life to never speak abruptly around him, and he’s never been able to explain to you why that matters to him.

But you’ve never needed him to explain anything. You’re too intuitive for your own good. Too understanding. Too good.

“Jason!”

His heart stops. Beats once. Skips a beat. Beats erratically again. That couldn’t have been…was that…you?

Swivelling his head around frantically, Jason pays no mind to the driver behind him angrily blaring his horn, the sound filling up the street. He knows he just heard you, however faint it was over the rain.

“(Name)! Baby!” Jason calls out, voice thick with worry.

“Jason!”

Yes, that’s you—that’s you.

And you’re flailing your arms above your head, jumping up and down on the side of the curb.With his pulse drumming inside his ears, Jason barely gives it a second thought as he floors it, weaving through the moving cars and crossing lanes to reach you.

People surrounding you glance at him wearily as the engine roars, but you don’t pay them any mind as Jason screeches to a halt directly in front of you.

You barely blink and Jason’s kicking the stand and hopping off his bike. For a moment, you think he’s angry as he strides up to you, with his brows pinched together and his jaw clenched.

Your mouth opens pitifully as you prepare to stumble out your rehearsed apology, but your words die on your tongue as strong hands wrap around your biceps, and Jason grapples you to him. A huff of air escapes you as you’re shoved against his chest, but the shock instantly melts away, and you grab fistfuls of his jacket in your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you say into his shoulder. Guilt gnaws at your stomach, and you let him tighten his grip around you, even if it feels like your ribcage might snap.

“My phone died.” Your voice shakes, and you squeeze your eyes shut as rain taps against your scalp. “And Meggie wanted me to help her with something after closing, and then her ride ditched her so we were trying to figure out an uber for her cause the taxis are terrible and—”

“Stop talking.”

You inhale sharply. “Okay.”

The silence feels tense, and the rain pricks into your skin like needles, sharp and relentless. But it’s nothing compared to the turmoil you feel on the inside, the guilt that’s threatening to send you into tears—but you can’t cry. No, this isn’t about how you feel, this is about Jason.

“Sweetheart,” Jason murmurs against your scalp, and you catch the tremor in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“I—baby, don’t do that again.” Jason pulls away, and he brings his large hands to cradle your face. You’re reminiscent of a wet alley cat, your hair sticking to your skin and your coat hanging from your frame, heavy with water. But he’s never seen you look as remorseful as you do right now. Any anger or frustration lingering in the back of his mind vanishes within an instant, as if it weren’t even there to begin with.

Purple and pink light from the overhead billboards reflect off your face, haloing your hair. You look beautiful, but more importantly, you’re okay. You’re safe, and he’s holding you in his arms. Despite the rain, despite the chill that clings to the air, your skin is still warm with life.

And that’s more than enough for Jason.

Shaking his head, he brings a hand to gently push against the back of your head and press you closer to him again. He presses a firm kiss to your temple, as if to hammer into your skin the relief surging through him.

Bystanders glance your way, eyeing what simply looks like two people embracing each other with an overwhelming amount of emotion. Feeling the panic in his chest slowly start to ebb away, Jason lets his lips fall to your cheek where he presses featherlight kisses.

You hum softly, fingers tightening around the creases in his jacket.

“I love you, Jay,” you say quietly, because you know he needs to hear it.

Jason’s heart rampages against his ribcage.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

[gabseyoo]

FIFTEEN SECONDS — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: female reader, friends to lovers, love confession, fluff, bit of comedy. word count: 1,2k.

note: here’s a little something for valentine’s day, hope you like it!

What should I say?

“Here.” No, too dry.

“Here, it’s for you.” Shit, still too dry.

“I bought this for you, I hope you like it.” Okay, that one wasn’t so bad. 

For the past ten minutes, Kiyoomi had been locked in a brutal staring contest with the small black box sitting on the café table. The thing wasn’t even looking at him, and yet he was the one losing.

This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

He had bought the damn gift two weeks ago. Two weeks of overthinking, of waiting for the perfect moment, of nearly shoving it to the back of his closet out of sheer nerves. But then Valentine’s Day crept up on him, and he thought—maybe this was fate giving him a chance.

Or setting him up for humiliating rejection.

Kiyoomi had rehearsed this moment in his head. And still, here he was, breaking into a nervous sweat over a bracelet. What if you didn’t like it? What if you thought it was stupid? What if you liked someone else?

Then, in the middle of his internal crisis, a familiar voice nearly made him jump.

“Hey, Kiyoomi.”

He looked up so fast he almost knocked the gift off the table. There you were, standing in front of him with that impossibly pretty smile, your presence alone enough to make his pulse go haywire.

“Did you already order, or should I—?” You asked as you sat down in front of him. 

“I already did.” He forced his voice to stay steady. “Iced latte with two shots of vanilla, right?”

Your smile grew. “You know me so well.”

Yeah, because I’m hopelessly in love with you.

The words were right there. On the tip of his tongue.

Relax, Kiyoomi. Ease into it.

That was the smart thing to do. You didn’t just shove a confession at someone out of nowhere—there should be a conversation first, something natural.

“So, uh…” He wracked his brain for something—anything—normal to say. “How’s work?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “It’s fine?”

What the hell was that, Kiyoomi? It was comical how his calm and collected personality seemed to disappear at this moment when he needed it most. Was love always this complicated? Or was it because it was about you?

You tilted your head. “Are you okay?”

No. No, he was absolutely not okay. His fingers tapped anxiously against the small box. The longer he waited, the worse this was getting. His nerves were eating him alive. He could already feel the impending doom of chickening out.

Screw it.

With zero transition or warning, he grabbed the box and shoved it across the table. “Here.”

Goddamn it. 

You blinked in surprise. “For me?”

A stiff nod. This was fine. You’d open it, love it, and then he’d tell you. Smooth. Simple. Foolproof.

Except…

You were taking your sweet time untying the ribbon.

Kiyoomi clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to do it for you. Why were you so slow? Was this some kind of test? Did you already know he was panicking and just wanted to see him suffer?

Finally, you lifted the lid. Your lips parted as you took out the delicate silver bracelet, the small star charm catching the café’s warm light.

“Oh, Kiyoomi…” You breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

His fingers twitched under the table as your eyes widened slightly. “Wait… this is—”

Kiyoomi looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the café menu on the wall. “Yeah.”

Your fingers traced the charm, realization dawning. “This is the bracelet from that shop at the mall, isn’t it?”

He cleared his throat. “Maybe.”

You turned to him, eyes suspiciously bright. “You went back for it?”

Kiyoomi picked up his coffee, taking a slow sip as if that would somehow make this moment less humiliating. “You wouldn’t stop staring at it.”

“I looked at it for like, five seconds.”

“It was at least fifteen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

This was it. The perfect moment.

He took a breath, preparing to say the words that had been stuck in his chest for way too long.

“I—” He began, but the words he had rehearsed for days were interrupted when a waiter appeared at the table.

“Here’s your order! One vanilla iced latte and one black coffee.”

Kiyoomi clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might crack a tooth. Not now, man. 

He nodded stiffly as you thanked the waiter. Okay, fine. Minor setback. 

“What were you saying?” You asked after the guy turned around, taking a sip from your drink.

His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Now. Now is the time. Just say it: I like you.

Kiyoomi opened his mouth, determined to do it, but then— 

“Do you need any sugar?”

Oh my god.

Kiyoomi glared at the waiter. Who was back. Did this man have a vendetta against his love life?

He mumbled a half-hearted, “No, thanks.”

“Cream?”

“No, thanks.”

“Any appetizer? We have a special red velvet cake because of Valentine's Day.”

Was this a joke?

“We’re fine.”

“Actually, I want a slice of cake.” You said.

Before the waiter could leave, Kiyoomi muttered, “Make that two.”

The guy finally left, and he was beginning to get irritated by his bad luck.

Just do it now! He scrambled at himself mentally. 

“Y/N, I bought–” He hurried to say, but then the loud hiss from the blender machine drowned out his voice.

Was this the universe making fun of him? 

By now, he was one more interruption away from actually losing it. So, ignoring the annoying noise, he decided to just keep going, “I bought this because–”

“Oh! Look at that dog outside.”

Kiyoomi stopped mid-sentence as you turned to the window, grinning at a fluffy golden retriever wagging its tail on the sidewalk. Are you serious?

But, when he turned back to you, you were watching him with amusement.

You two made eye contact for a few seconds, he blinked, you blinked, and then— you laughed.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What?”

You smirked. “Kiyoomi, don’t be so shy.”

His stomach dropped.

“I like you too.”

For a full three seconds, his brain just ceased to function.

You… what?

His ears burned. His grip tightened on his cup. His entire soul left his body. “You knew?”

You giggled, tapping his hand lightly. “Of course. I actually got something for you too.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small gift box, setting it on the table in front of him. Kiyoomi tried—really tried—not to look too eager as he picked it up and carefully lifted the lid.

Inside was a watch. The watch. The one he had lingered on in the mall that day.

“You looked at it for at least fifteen seconds.” You teased, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

Kiyoomi froze. His fingers tightened around the box as the realization sank in.

You had noticed. Just like he had noticed you staring at the bracelet. You both had thought of each other.

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. His throat felt tight, his chest oddly warm. He looked up at you, something soft, something real in his gaze.

“This is—”

“Here they are! Two slices of red velvet cake!”

Kiyoomi visibly twitched.

Oh, come on!

[noisyghost]

(I started sketching this design nearly immediately after season 2 ended but just now had some time to clean it up so. Excuse me rambling out loud here)

TLDR; I actually really liked the initial design + direction for Warwick-Vander (I <3 human faced werewolves)! But the show design kinda felt like a transitory state between Vander and Warwick to me, so I wanted to try my hand at blending his Arcane design with his in game design. Like a "what would he look like if the transformation kept going" kinda thing. There's a few things I'm not fully settled on, but Im mostly satisfied :)

(rambling under the readmore, its 3 am as i type this lol)

When season 2 first started, I sort of had it in my head that the narrative would have Vander "die" for Warwick to finish the transformation into his final form, forcing Vi and Jinx to finally say goodbye together. Well! That didn't happen lol. I mean. Vander did "die", but whatever was left behind isn't really Warwick. I'm not quite sure what they were going for, either with him or with how Jinx "dies", its all just a little messy when i feel like there was a more obvious narrative conclusion.

Visually i think the final design in the show is cool removed from context, but it doesn't really make sense to me in regards to the story. Like. Warwicks whole thing is that he curbs his violent impulses by killing "bad guys" in the undercity. League lore is a hot fucking mess and I don't even go there so I get that they (the writers) were playing fast and loose but I can see why so many Warwick fans were less than pleased with where the show leaves him, because it doesn't really feel like the same character outside of his initial experimentation.

In my own idea palace, Jinx fakes her death and leaves Warwick to be Zaun's new mascot. Having this literal monster that eats bad guys and saves innocent people in the process become a new symbol for Zaun feels like a no brainer to me. Imagine the iconography they'd make for this thing! And it brings Vanders whole schtick back around; he still "dies" but the Literal Memory of him lives on in Zaun, still protecting the people he cared about most. You get the bittersweet ending of Vi and Jinx having to move on because hes not really their dad anymore, but their memory is what keeps Warwick "human", still with Zaun even if Vi is doing Piltover shit and Jinx is off exploring the world.

Idk! I know the implication that Jinx faked her death is there, but whatever happens to Warwick seems to be like they didnt really have the time to fully explore the ideas they were going for, so a couple characters just got kinda left floating at the end there. If Ekko and Jinx werent going to run away together, I wanted to see Ekko befriending Warwick so they could fight to make Zaun a better place.

I have more coherent ideas than this but it's 3 am when im typing this so sorry if im not eloquent enough to properly explain what im thinking. Ekko and his weird dog that used to be his uncle. Imagine.

[anticipatedexhale]

Can you do the arcane characters with a s/o who is obsessed with their looks and how they’re perceived to others?

Hellooo <3 ofc I can!!

Just a disclaimer u are absolutely gorgeous and wonderful just the way you are! Inside and out! Don't let fake standards and false words put by society get to you please, love yourself just the way u are because although it's the hardest type of love to achieve it's also the most fulfilling<33

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Wish I could be like you, but I’m not that cool.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, sevika

☆ ◞ summary: when you care too much it starts to backfire on you, when you think you lost everything they are right beside you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, tons of bad talk about ones body and self, insecurities that may be triggering you some so please be careful while reading.

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been confident—he knew who he was, what he stood for, and never really cared much about what others thought of him. So when he started noticing how much you worried about your looks and how people perceived you, it caught him off guard.

At first, he thought it was just normal self-care. Everyone liked to look good, right? But then he started picking up on the little things.

The way you’d constantly check your reflection in any shiny surface you passed. The way you’d subtly adjust your outfit over and over, as if trying to perfect it. How you’d bite your lip and glance around nervously when someone so much as whispered near you, convinced it was about you.

And when you two were out together? Forget about it. You agonized over every detail—your hair, your posture, your expressions. Always making sure you were just right.

Jayce hated seeing you stress over it.

One evening, you were getting ready for an event, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the fiftieth time, inspecting yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

"Does this look okay?" you asked for the third time in ten minutes. "Maybe I should change. Do you think people will—"

Jayce sighed and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you away from the mirror.

“Babe,” he said softly, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why does it matter so much what other people think?”

You hesitated, looking down. “I just… I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. People talk, Jayce.”

His expression softened. “I don’t give a damn what people say. And you shouldn’t either.”

You sighed, but he wasn’t done. He cupped your face, tilting it up so you had to look at him.

“You’re already perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, how your hair looks, or what people think. They don’t see what I see.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “…And what do you see?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Someone incredible. Someone who makes me laugh, who makes me proud every damn day. Someone I’d still be crazy about even if you walked into that party wearing mismatched shoes and a potato sack.”

You let out a startled laugh, rolling your eyes. “A potato sack?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Yep. You’d still be the best-looking person in the room.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “…You really don’t care?”

“Not one bit,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. Not stressing over what a bunch of nobodies think.”

His words hit deep. And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed them.

Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t need everyone else’s approval.

Maybe Jayce’s was enough.

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Mel Medarda.

Mel had always been surrounded by high society, where appearances were more than just about beauty—they were about power, influence, and command. She’d been taught from a young age how to control the room with a well-placed smile, a confident stance, and the right attire. But while she had mastered the art of fitting into the expectations of others, she’d never let them control her.

When she first noticed your obsession with your appearance—how you would fret over the smallest detail, constantly worry about what others thought, and always seek validation from the people around you—she didn’t rush to correct you. Instead, she observed, trying to understand why it mattered so much to you.

One evening, you were preparing for another event, this time a gala held by Piltover’s elite. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes darting between your reflection and the wardrobe full of options, your fingers pulling at your hair, your expression one of deep dissatisfaction.

“Mel,” you said, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m just not—”

She stepped into the room with the effortless grace she was known for, her gaze soft yet intense as she approached you. “You’re just not what?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know… I feel like I don’t belong here,” you confessed, your hands wringing together. “I keep thinking about what people will say when they see me. What if they don’t think I’m… enough?”

Mel’s brow furrowed as she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, turning you to face her fully. “Let me ask you something,” she began, her tone serious but tender. “Why do you care so much about what they think?”

You looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because if I don’t look a certain way, if I’m not perfect, I feel like I won’t matter.”

Mel took a deep breath, stepping closer to you, her hands gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze softened as she studied you for a moment, her fingers brushing the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “You are already more than enough. I’ve seen you, not just with your looks, but with your heart, your intelligence, your strength.” She smiled softly. “You think people are only judging you based on how you look, but the truth is, they want to see you. They want to know you—the person who carries themselves with such grace and confidence, the one who makes them wonder how they missed such brilliance.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to fit into others' expectations. To be what people wanted me to be,” Mel continued, her eyes locking with yours, unwavering. “But I realized that I will never be happy that way. And neither will you. So stop letting your worth be defined by others. You have everything you need inside of you already.”

You blinked, the warmth of her words washing over you. “But… I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

Mel gently cupped your face, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Then let me remind you every day how much you mean to me. You’re perfect just as you are.”

You swallowed, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

With a soft chuckle, Mel pulled back slightly. “Good. Now let’s go out there, and when they look at you, let them see the amazing person I see.”

And as she helped you get dressed, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Mel never pressured you to be anyone else, but she also knew how to help you realize that you had more power than you gave yourself credit for.

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Viktor.

Viktor’s perspective on beauty had always been one of deep pragmatism. His entire life had been about improving, evolving, and focusing on the mind’s capacity to achieve, while the world outside often seemed obsessed with superficial qualities. He’d never cared much for what others thought of him or how he looked. But when it came to you, it was different.

He’d noticed, more and more, how often you seemed preoccupied with your appearance. You would spend hours before a mirror, adjusting your clothes or making sure every strand of hair was in place, always worried about what others might think. Sometimes, even after all the effort, there was a quiet dissatisfaction in your expression, and it made him wonder how much you truly believed in yourself.

One evening, after a long day of work, Viktor arrived home to find you sitting on the couch, still in your outfit from earlier. Your gaze was fixed on your phone screen, scrolling through images of other people’s lives, comparing your appearance to theirs. Your posture was tense, your brows furrowed in frustration.

Viktor quietly approached, his voice soft yet steady as he spoke your name. “You’re still awake? What’s going on, love?”

You glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just thinking. About how everyone seems to have it all figured out. How they look perfect, and I’m… well, I don’t know.” You trailed off, your gaze dropping back to your phone.

Viktor, noticing the sharp contrast between your usual confident self and the person sitting before him, knelt beside the couch, taking your hand gently in his. His tone was patient, understanding, but there was a certain firmness that made you look up at him.

“Your worth has never been determined by someone else’s perception of you,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’ve spent so much time trying to please others, trying to fit a mold you never asked for. But I need you to understand something, love…”

You looked at him, unsure, waiting for him to continue.

“You are far more than just the sum of your physical appearance or the validation of others,” Viktor continued, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are a person of substance, of intellect, of heart. And that’s what I fell in love with. Not the way you look, but who you are.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. Viktor’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “And you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone.”

There was silence between you, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. His words settled in your chest, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

“I just feel like I’m constantly chasing something I can never achieve,” you admitted quietly. “Trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone else expects.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with concern, but he smiled gently. “What if I told you that the most perfect version of yourself is already here? Right now, in this moment? That you are more than enough, as you are?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of wisdom, of someone who had seen the world through a lens of endless improvement. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace and the security of his steady presence.

“I’m still learning, Viktor,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. “Learning to accept myself.”

“And I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice warm and unwavering. “Every step of the way. To remind you that you’re perfect, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your soul. In that moment, with Viktor by your side, you realized that the person you needed to please the most was yourself. And with him, you finally understood that your worth was never tied to anyone’s expectations—but rather, to the person you were, inside and out.

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Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn was never one to place much value on appearances. Sure, she knew the importance of looking presentable, especially in her position, but she also understood that true beauty went beyond what the eye could see. For Caitlyn, what truly mattered were values, intellect, and integrity. But when she noticed you often fretting over your appearance, constantly adjusting your outfit, and seeking validation from others, it tugged at her heart. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, but didn’t know how to reach you—until one quiet evening.

After a long day at work, Caitlyn came home to find you in front of the mirror once again, changing clothes, adjusting your makeup, and constantly re-evaluating your reflection. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching you with a concerned expression.

You didn’t even notice her at first, your mind lost in the whirlwind of doubts that always seemed to surface when you weren’t in her company. “I don’t know, Cait. What if I’m not enough?” you muttered under your breath, pulling at the collar of your shirt as if it could make you feel better. “What if they don’t think I’m… beautiful enough?”

Caitlyn stepped into the room quietly, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you think that?”

You jumped, not expecting her to be standing so close. “Oh… I didn’t hear you.” You gave a weak smile, clearly still upset.

“Babe, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. She stepped closer and reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “What are you looking for?”

You hesitated, glancing at your reflection before turning to face her. “I just… I feel like people judge me all the time. What if they don’t like how I look? What if I’m too much for them? Or not enough?”

Caitlyn’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and concern. She could feel how deeply you were struggling, and though she didn’t share your worries about appearances, she understood the burden of those feelings. She gently cupped your face in her hands, tilting your chin so your eyes met hers.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low but confident. “You are enough. Right now, in this moment, you’re more than enough.”

You blinked, her words striking a chord deep inside. “But what if people think I’m…”

She cut you off gently. “You are beautiful, but more than that, you’re incredible. You make a difference. You’re kind, intelligent, and strong. No outfit or hairstyle is going to change that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words began to sink in. “But what if I’m not… what people expect?”

Caitlyn smiled, her hands gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own. I fell in love with you for who you are, not because of how you look. And I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now, just by being yourself.”

Her sincerity made your heart swell, and despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Caitlyn didn’t care about the opinions of others; she cared about you—and that was all that mattered.

“I guess I’ve been so focused on trying to be perfect that I forgot how to just be me,” you admitted softly.

Caitlyn chuckled, her thumbs gently rubbing circles on your cheeks. “And I’ll remind you every day that you don’t need to be perfect for anyone. You’re perfect for me.”

You leaned into her touch, a sense of comfort settling in your chest. “Thank you, Cait. I really needed to hear that.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. You don’t have to change a thing.”

In that moment, you realized that your true beauty didn’t lie in how others saw you, but in how Caitlyn saw you—and how you saw yourself when you let go of the expectations that had once held you back.

---------------------------------------------------

Vi.

Vi had always been more about strength and character than appearances. She had a no-nonsense attitude and didn’t care much for superficial things. Whether in a fight or just hanging out, she preferred to focus on what truly mattered—what was inside a person. So when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, constantly tweaking your outfit or worrying about how others perceived you, it threw her off. She couldn’t quite understand why you’d feel like you weren’t enough when to her, you were already perfect just as you were.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, Vi returned home to find you sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, flipping through social media. You’d been quiet all evening, and she could tell something was bothering you. As she approached, she noticed you adjusting your outfit for the fourth time, pulling at the hem of your shirt, checking the mirror again.

Vi raised an eyebrow, concern flashing across her face. “You good, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You didn’t look up, still preoccupied with your reflection. “I don’t know. I just feel like people always judge me. I mean, look at them, Vi,” you said, showing her your phone screen, where a bunch of influencers and well-dressed people filled the screen. “Why can’t I look like that? I don’t know… I just feel like I’m never enough, no matter what I do.”

Vi looked at the screen for a moment before setting it down gently, stepping closer to you. “Hey, look at me,” she said, her voice a little more serious now. “I don’t get it. You’ve got all this beauty inside and out, and you’re worried about some picture on a screen?”

You gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. “It’s not just a picture, Vi. People always notice what I wear, what I look like. I feel like I’m always trying to fit into something I’m not.”

Vi tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with that intense, protective gaze of hers. “You don’t need to fit into any mold, babe. You’re not some... trend to follow. You’re you. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

You looked away, unsure. "But people don't see that. They only care about the surface."

Vi sighed, her expression softening as she sat next to you. She took your hand in hers, her grip strong but comforting. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see a person who's been through a lot, someone who doesn't need to put on a mask to be loved. Someone who's real. And that's what makes you so amazing. I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks. And I know you don't need to change for anyone."

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the feelings bubbling up inside. Vi, with her blunt honesty and genuine affection, had a way of cutting through the noise, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you weren’t as lost as you thought.

Vi leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “You know I love you for exactly who you are, right? And if you’re worried about how others see you, then maybe you should let them see the real you. Because that’s who I love. The real you. Not some version of you trying to impress everyone else.”

You could feel her words sinking in, easing the pressure you hadn’t even realized had been building. You felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you as Vi’s embrace tightened, holding you close.

"I know I'm tough and rough around the edges," she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "but you don’t need to be anything other than what makes you happy. And if that means wearing your favorite old shirt or going makeup-free, I’m still gonna think you’re the best thing in the world."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you found yourself relaxing into her warmth. “Thanks, Vi. I needed that.”

Vi grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, babe. Just remember: you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

In that moment, surrounded by her love and honesty, you realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was the one that came from within—and with Vi, you were finally starting to believe it.

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Jinx.

Jinx was many things—chaotic, unpredictable, and loud—but when it came to you, she was surprisingly sensitive. Her world had always been in a constant state of madness, but there was something calming about being with you. You were her rock, her one constant in the storm. That’s why it bothered her so much when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, always fidgeting with your clothes, your hair, or your makeup, constantly worried about how others saw you.

One evening, after a particularly wild day of mayhem (courtesy of Jinx, of course), you sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. Your brows were furrowed, your thumb scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others. Jinx had been watching you for a while, and it was starting to get under her skin.

"Hey, you!" she suddenly called out, practically throwing herself onto the couch next to you, her usual enthusiasm filling the room.

You jumped a little, distracted. “Oh, hey, Jinx. What’s up?” You didn’t look up from your phone, still fixated on the images that seemed to be making you feel worse with every swipe.

Jinx tilted her head, studying your face closely. Her blue hair bounced as she moved, and her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice. “Why do you keep looking at that stuff?”

You sighed, showing her your phone. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always trying to keep up with everyone else, you know? They always look so… perfect. I feel like I don’t measure up.”

Jinx blinked, her usual manic energy quieting for a moment as she processed your words. "What do you mean, perfect?" she asked, her voice almost childlike in its confusion. “Perfect’s boring, though! I mean, sure, it’s fun to be perfectly insane, but... you’re way cooler than perfect! Who needs to be that?”

You looked at her, a little unsure. “I just… I don’t know, Jinx. I feel like I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, trying to look like everyone else. But nothing ever feels good enough.”

Jinx leaned back dramatically, her arms spread wide. “You wanna know something? I don’t think you need to look like anyone else, ever!” she said, her eyes wide and full of her usual chaotic energy. “You’re already amazing the way you are, and I don’t get why you keep looking at that stuff. I mean, look at me—no one can look like me and that’s what makes me awesome! So you just need to be you, okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her randomness, even as a weight still sat heavy in your chest. Jinx smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the way her words were beginning to work their magic. “I know you think you gotta be something you’re not, but I love you just as you are. You’re like… the best thing ever! You don’t need to change anything to impress anyone, especially not me.”

She leaned forward then, her hands clasping yours tightly. Her wild eyes softened as she looked at you with an intensity that was rare for her. “I love you, okay? You—with all the stuff you think isn’t perfect. I don’t need a perfect you. I need you, the one with all the quirks and the weird little things that make you you!”

You blinked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Jinx had a way of making things seem so much lighter, her chaotic nature always breaking through the heaviness of your own doubts. Her laugh was like music, and the more she spoke, the more you felt the pressure you had been putting on yourself start to lift.

“Jinx,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Thank you. I think I just needed to hear it from you. I’ve been so focused on trying to change, I forgot what made me… me.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just made the greatest revelation in the world. “Just be you, and if anyone else doesn’t get it, then they’re the ones who are messed up! You’re freaking awesome, and I’m lucky to have you.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. "Don’t ever try to be anything other than you again, okay?" she whispered into your ear. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in the chaos that only Jinx could provide. With her by your side, maybe, just maybe, you could start to let go of the expectations that others had placed on you—and just embrace the person you were.

And with that, Jinx’s chaotic energy became the balm you didn’t know you needed, reminding you that in this world of uncertainty, the most important thing was being true to yourself.

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Ekko.

Ekko had always been a little different. The way he saw the world wasn’t about appearances or surface-level stuff—it was about people, their hearts, and their actions. It wasn’t lost on him that you seemed to care a lot about how others perceived you, constantly stressing over what to wear, how to look, or whether you were keeping up with the trends. At first, he didn’t really understand it. Why would you care what other people thought when you were already so incredible in his eyes?

One evening, after working on his latest invention in the workshop, Ekko was looking forward to spending some quiet time with you. He’d been busy with the repairs and inventions for the underground, but when he finally entered the room, he immediately noticed something different about you. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, occasionally staring at the mirror, then back at the pages. The quiet tension in the air told him something was off.

He walked up to you and gently sat down next to you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "You seem… distracted."

You looked up, surprised to see him. You hadn’t realized you were being so obvious about your self-doubt. "Oh, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile. "Just… you know, trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. Something that’ll make me look good enough for the crowd, y’know?"

Ekko frowned slightly. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your fingers were nervously flipping through pages. He didn’t need to be a genius to see that something was bothering you.

He leaned back against the couch, giving you a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “What crowd? I thought you were more about being yourself, not some image you’ve got to keep up with.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard. I mean, look at everyone else, Ekko. They’re all perfect—well-dressed, confident, always looking like they’ve got it all figured out. I just… I don’t know. I want to feel good about myself, but it feels like I’m always falling short.”

Ekko let out a small sigh. He had seen you struggle with this before, but hearing it out loud always tugged at his heart. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t measure up, especially in a world that made it easy to compare yourself to everyone around you. But to him, you were already more than enough.

"You don’t need to be like anyone else, you know that, right?" Ekko said, his voice calm yet serious. "I get it, everyone around here seems to care about appearances or ‘keeping up with the Joneses,’ but that’s not what makes someone special. You’re already incredible. The real you—not some idealized version of yourself—is what I love."

He took your hand, gently guiding you to face him. "It’s not about looking like someone else. It’s about being you. And when you’re you, that’s when you shine the brightest. You’re unique, and that’s what makes you stand out. Not some perfect look or what other people think."

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words piercing through the insecurities that had been building inside. Ekko was always so patient with you, always grounding you when the chaos of the world started to feel too heavy. His belief in you, in who you were as a person, was unwavering.

"Ekko, I’m just so used to trying to fit in," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everyone expects me to be perfect, to look a certain way."

Ekko shook his head, his hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "You don’t need to fit into anyone’s box. You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters. You’ve got something they don’t—your heart, your mind, your creativity. You’ve always had it, and I see it every single day."

He stood up, giving you a playful grin. "You know what’s really cool about you? You can pull off anything—whether it’s a fancy outfit or a worn-out hoodie. You make it look good because it’s you. And honestly, that’s way more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little of the weight lifting off your shoulders as you finally met his eyes. “You really think that?”

Ekko nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. "More than anything. I’m proud of you, just the way you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, especially not when you’ve already got mine."

You stood up to face him, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. There was no need to change for the world. You had Ekko, and that was more than enough to make you feel seen and loved.

"I love you, you know that?" you whispered.

Ekko grinned, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug. "I love you too, more than you’ll ever know."

In his arms, you felt safe—safe to be yourself, flaws and all. Maybe it wasn’t about perfection after all. Maybe it was about finding the people who truly saw you, the real you, and loving you for exactly who you were.

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Sevika.

The quiet buzz of the dimly lit workshop was disrupted by a small, sudden sigh. Sevika paused, her fingers lightly gripping the wrench she was working with as she looked over at you. You were at the far corner of the room, your attention focused on the full-length mirror. Your gaze was distant, eyes scanning every inch of yourself, your expression more tense than usual.

She could see the way your shoulders tensed, the slight frown on your lips, and she knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone caught in the trap of self-doubt, obsessing over things that didn't truly matter. Sevika, who always carried herself with quiet confidence, couldn't help but notice how much you seemed to care about things that didn’t define your worth—things like appearance, status, and the opinions of others.

Without saying a word, Sevika set her tools down and walked toward you, her large frame cutting through the space with the same assured steps she always had. There was something about your current mood that tugged at her, an instinct to take care of you when she saw you struggling.

She came up behind you, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her arms, just watching. There was no rush to intervene. Sevika had learned that sometimes, you needed time to process things on your own before anyone could help.

After a moment, you spoke without turning to face her. "Do you think they’d like me more if I looked different? I mean… everyone seems to have something special about them. What if I’m just… not good enough?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. Sevika stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hey," she said, her hand resting on your shoulder, urging you to meet her eyes. "You’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re not here to be ‘liked’ by anyone else but yourself."

You swallowed, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "I don’t know, Sevika. I just—sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t live up to… to what they expect, to what everyone else has. I don’t know how to be comfortable with myself."

Sevika’s eyes softened, her hand gently turning your chin so that you finally faced her. "You don’t need to worry about them. You don’t need to worry about being perfect, because there’s no such thing. No one is perfect—not even the ones who pretend they are."

Her voice was steady, filled with that unwavering confidence that made her so impossible to ignore. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s not something that comes from looking a certain way. It comes from what you’ve been through, how you keep going despite everything. That’s what I admire about you. Not how you look, but the person you are."

Your breath caught, the frustration in your chest softening with her words. For a moment, you let yourself believe her, feeling the weight of your insecurities ease just a little.

"I think you forget sometimes that people who truly care about you… the ones who matter, don’t give a damn about your looks," Sevika continued, her thumb lightly tracing your cheek, her touch gentle yet powerful. "You think I’m here because you’ve got the perfect image? Nah. I’m here because you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it."

A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "And you think I’d let someone like you get away with being anything less than amazing?"

You chuckled softly, the tension melting away at the sincerity in her words. Sevika’s tough exterior had always been there, but in moments like this, she allowed her softer side to show, especially when it came to you. You could see in her eyes that she didn’t just mean what she was saying—she believed it wholeheartedly.

"Sevika, I—"

She cut you off, her finger lightly tapping your lips. "No more self-doubt. No more comparisons. You’re incredible. Just as you are."

For once, the mirror didn’t seem so important. It wasn’t about how others saw you, but how you saw yourself through her eyes. Sevika may not always say a lot, but in moments like this, her actions spoke volumes. You let yourself lean into her touch, the assurance in her presence becoming your anchor.

She leaned in close, her voice softer now, just for you. "Now, let’s forget about everyone else for a while, yeah? Tonight’s about you, about us. You don’t need to impress anyone but yourself."

And as you let her embrace you, a weight lifted, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

--------------------------------------------------

Authors note: I really do apologize if this isn't to ur liking my darling or it feels repetitive I just really could not come up with different scenarios dear God I was about to crash out..

[scissorcentral]

Abby with a reader who's just •_• bug eyed and silent lmao, very oblivious to everything, always in their own world, but very endearing and sweet to abs <3

Abby with a more introverted(?) reader-

warnings- (there aren't really i don't think)

-Abby literally thinks you are the most adorable human being ever. Whenever you space out during group discussions, she literally can't help but laugh to herself before slinging her arm around you and holding you against her until you come back to reality (because of course you're always directly next to her).

-If anyone tries to make little jokes or tease you about your speaking habits or anything about you, she will shut them up so fast you literally won't even have time to notice. It gets a point where nobody even thinks about trying because Abby will either clap back, aiming to destroy their ego, or give them the most insane death glare. Like the type of look that could kill, and it probably could if she tried hard enough.

-You can't help but mess with her fingers and drift off sometimes and she literally will have like hearts in her eyes as she watches you. You're completely silent just running your fingers all over her hands and she will just watch in awe with a soft blush on her cheeks. She's literally enamored by you and whatever you do.

-Whenever you are out on patrol together, she ALWAYS makes sure to keep an eye on you no matter what. She knows you can get a little off track, your mind sometimes wandering causing you to wander a bit to. After her dad's death she refuses to lose you so she makes sure to never let you out of her sight as long as she can help it.

-Sometimes you guys will sneak off and find a building with an accessible roof and you will just sit for hours. Sometimes you guys won't even speak, and other times Abby will talk for the entire time as you listen to every word she says. Sometimes its rant and other times it's some stupid store that sends you both into a fit of giggles. Her main goal is always getting some laughs out of you which she always does, rant or not. She lives for the sound of your laughter.

-Her dream is to be able to see the world through your eyes. How you are able to get through most of your days without talking or talking so little. How you can be so oblivious to things but also so insightful to other things. She is so obsessed with you and how you go about your life. She wishes she could know what it's like, but even though she really can't she does everything in her power to understand you.

-Before you guys got together, Abby had been literally in love with you, but you never noticed her advances. She would get so angry, like screaming into her pillow angry. It would make her so embarrassed how pathetic she'd get but she still continued to try. Eventually you caught on after she had to be so extremely blunt. Now the whole thing is something she just teases you about, but your obliviousness is something she has grown to completely love. It's so cute to her now(it wasn't cute when she was putting her reputation on the line with her extremely obvious advances(well obvious to everyone but you))

-If you ever get lost in your head she's always there to try and ease you out. It becomes a thing she is really good at. Holding you close to her, her thumbs rubbing softly over your skin, light kisses on your temple. It's sweet and something you become incredibly grateful for. You will always show your appreciation by leaving a new coin on her nightstand that you had secretly found on a patrol.

-Abby makes it her fucking mission to see you smile. Whatever she has to do she will do (which can be a little concerning). She thinks your smile is the cutest thing in the world and would literally die to see it once more.

-If anyone in the stadium says legit one negative word about you, she will lose it. Nobody is allowed to talk bad about you. Ever. She is so extremely protective of you. You're her everything. She knows you aren't classified as a "completely normal person" by everyone's else's standards but that's why she loves you so much. The way your eyes will glaze over slightly when you space out, the way you'll just stare at people when they send you a backhanded compliment, and the way she's the only person who gets to hear you speak and even then, it's usually quiet whispers. You've got her completely whipped. You got the Abby Anderson completely and utterly whipped.

notes- Hi. I am actually horrified to post this as I haven't written and posted on Tumblr in multiple years so it's weird to be back. This is such shit, but I hope you do enjoy. To me this writing feels like a fourth grader who just learned a few new vocab words but whatever. I'll probably go back and fix it and add more but I'm still having a crisis from just writing this so we will see. Hope you like it.

(also i didn't know how to word the title but i tried.)

[occamstfs]

MuskMask Up

Found footage of the missing persons Eddie Leon and Bowen Chen, last seen vlogging at a new gym with a mandatory mask policy. Well documented is what seems to happen when one forgets theirs.

Mixing it up a bit! Diary entries within a short metanarrative police investigation- Meat of the story is coworkers bulking up at an advanced rate after borrowing masks from the gym, hope you enjoy! -Occam

The following footage was found by the now missing-in-action Detective Smith during a missing persons investigation of civilians Eduardo “Eddie” Leon and Bowen Chen. If you have any information on the whereabouts of the pair or Detective Smith please call APD with information.

February 1st:

The scene opens with Eddie’s face inches away from a tripod he’s setting up. Behind him, stretching outside the entrance to a gym, is coworker Bowen Chen. Eddie smiles once he sees the camera has begun recording and backs away to start the first vlog on his journey to better health. Hopping up and waving both hands with abandon, he does just that.

“Heyyy guys! Today’s day one of hitting the gym with Bowen! Obviously he knows what he’s doing so this whole thing should be a piece of cake- I mean look at him!” He gestures to his friend mid-drink of water and Bowen quickly chokes it down before shyly responding. Face blushing pink as he’s clearly not nearly as comfortable on camera.

“Ah, uhm- Yes. Hello, audience? I’ve been ah uhm, steady? At the gym for a few years now and Eddie was wondering if I could show him the ropes. Sooo, uhm.” Eduardo was very clear that he was going to be doing a vlog about the whole thing but Bowen had no idea how much a camera would put him on edge. Seeing him flounder and hearing every word come quieter than the last Eddie quickly picks up the slack.

“So yeah! We’re going to a new gym that opened up, all their ads brag about retention rate and quick results which is what I’m all about haha!” Seeing a man in a face mask come through the automatic doors behind him Eddie claps his hands and tacks on, “OH! They also still require face masks which, I don’t mind,” he playfully grasps his friend’s jaw causing blush to return over a shy grin, “it does mean you might be seeing less of this little cutie’s face but so it goes~ When in Brome hee hee!” 

Bowen’s phone goes off as a timer set to ensure the pair stretch for long enough comes to an end. He then chastises Eddie for spending so long of their prep time vlogging before crossing his arms and resetting the clock to make sure his trainee stretches. Eddie quickly turns off the vlog with a wink, “Yikes already on his bad side haha~ See y’all later!”

February 9th:

“Helloooo guys~ Took my mask off real quick to record this.” He pauses to sniff the air and almost gags as he smells the musk of the gym, usually covered by his mask. “God is this what all gyms smell like?” Looking down at his sweat stained body and glistening chest he grimaces as he guesses he’s certainly not helping. Shaking it off he returns to his vlog, “Hm. I’ll edit that out- Helloooo Guys! You would not believe how much progress I’ve made already!”

He does a small flex and it’s clear he has put on more weight than would be expected, or rather more weight in a week than should be possible. “No one tells you how much you have to eat to put on mass, guys! Or I guess- Bowen told me huh?” He giggles and then jolts upright and turns the camera to his trainer working at a machine. “Speaking of gains there Mr. Mass is himself.” Behind the lens Eddie continues, “I forgot my mask today so the sweetie let me borrow his. Hear that ladies? This hunk’s also a gentleman. Someone get a ring on that finger!”

As Eddie continues to film Bowen’s reps it’s clear that something besides the effort is causing him discomfort. In fact it almost seems like the workout isn’t bothering him at all as he rolls his eyes before bending down to put more weight on the machine. With a free hand he plugs his nose to have the slightest moment of freedom from the musky scent that must be distracting him. Then as soon as he grunts through his first rep at the new weight a figure appears behind him, wearing a mask over the whole of his head and taps on his shoulder before clearly preparing to confront him.

“Oop, oh shit-” Eddie whispers, too far from his trainer to know what exactly the little confrontation is about, but after a few gestures to his maskless face it’s pretty clear. The sound of Eddie quickly putting his mask back on can be heard behind the camera as across the gym Bowen clearly nods a few times, assumedly acquiescing, motioning to pack up and head back later. He apologies and gestures for Eddie to head to the locker room but then the sweaty masked man waves him off and pats him on the back, pulling out a mask from his sweatpants.

Bowen’s gasp is loud enough to be heard enough on camera as he backs into the machine in shock as the brute holds out a mask retrieved from his sweaty pants. He waves his hands clear as day that he’s not about to put on that must-be stained mask. Eddie quickly gets off his machine and starts to head over check in on his friend. He knows Bowen hates attention and is wont to fold at any confrontation but surely he’s not about to be pressured into putting on that dirty rag.

Keeping the camera trained on Bowen just in case, he’s too focused on the shot to really notice the fear in the man’s eyes as he stares up at the masked figure. And then, with a gulp, Bowen shakily accepts the mask, close enough to read lips one could just about make out Bowen’s whispered apology, “I’m sorry sir it won’t happen again” And then he does the unthinkable and puts on the dirty mask. Eddie reacts quietly enough only for the camera to pick up, “Jesus Christ- Bo!? What are you doing?!” 

After the masked man pats Bowen on the back, harder than one surely should, and offers a rough handshake, he departs. The camera captures a few more frames as Eddie walks the final few feet over. While not covered in sweat, it’s clear that the mask on Bowen’s face is wrinkled and has a small dark patch in its corner. Either from the workout or from the anxious confrontation, the trainer is clearly breathing heavily. 

With each breath his eyes begin to glisten glassy. Staring off into the middle distance he adjusts his pants and seems distracted as each heaving breath strives to be deeper than the one that came before, as each gasp of musky air tries to instill more of the essence trapped within the wretched mask. His eyes almost begin to cross in the last frame before Eddie puts his phone in his pocket, leaving the last few seconds of the recording audio only. “Uhhhhm, Hey Bowen? What the fuck was that?”

There is a few seconds pause followed by the sound of presumably Bowen swallowing saliva before he answers “Oh! Uhhh yeah? I don’t know dude?” “Dude?” “Sorry my head feels like it’s swimming, Eddie? That was so uhh, intense-” The sound of adjusting clothing again comes through, someone pulling on the elastic band of their underwear.

Realizing the whole confrontation only happened because he forgot his own mask, Eddie apologizes, “That wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t take yours. Look we can swap if you-”“NO.” Silence follows once more before Bowen continues, “No I uhm- don’t mind br- Eddie. How about we call it there and head home?” Eduardo agrees and the pair head off to the locker room. After a few steps the recording ends.

February 15th:

The image begins as usual of Eddie from afar, though the sound of weight’s clanging is far louder than usual. After a few false starts interrupted by the din of falling metal, the vlogger walks a few feet away and begins talking to the camera, “Hey everyone, quick update this time-” Flexing to himself he takes a moment to address his continued growth before in the distance he hears brash, deep laughter and what little of his face is revealed makes his worry clear as day.

“I’m still chugging along but Bowen has, well blown up? Ever since the last vlog when that asshole made him wear a dirty mask it’s almost like he’s a totally different person? Here, look-” Eddie quickly pans the camera over to a man almost unrecognizable resting on a bench. Beyond having arms as large as Bowen’s legs should be, the man’s demeanor is indeed entirely different. He flexes his arm and moans to himself as he sees a central vein pushing against the strained shirt sleeve.

“Is it steroids? Do you think? OH! He’s also started using the masks the gym provides- Are there like, inhale-y steroids?” The vlogger quickly heads to the web to research, paying no mind to what the lens catch as the camera unintentionally witnesses the massive man lumbering up from his bench, leaving an unwiped sweat stain in his wake.

Massive pecs bounce with each step and thighs strain his shorts as he makes his way over to Eddie, “YO! Edster- Come help me stretch!” Eddie flinches as he’s shouted at, groaning uncomfortably he obeys his trainer. Forgetting he was taking a vlog at all he sets his phone down. The air fills with groans, cracking bones, and almost deliberately loud grunts from Bowen.

“You know I seem to remember you wanting to not put on too much weight Bo?” 

There’s a deep guffaw, “Pshyeah, but y’know, when the muscle-bug bites huhuh!” The sound of his sleeves straining from a performative flex covers up his breathy moan from hyperextension. “Woah bro, why do you look so down?”

Clearly not thinking his mood would be caught by a man whose only gear has suddenly become self-obsessed, Eddie stumbles, “Well I don’t know, I guess? I’m just worried about- You just seem a little different is all.

“Huh.” There’s a long silence interrupted only by the buzz of music and clanging weights far off. Then there’s a quick gasp as in one motion Bowen stands and hoists Eddie into the air, “woAH! Bo! Put me down!” 

“Huhuh no bro I get it- You don’t know why you’re not seein’ results as good as mine I totally get it!” Eddie grunts and gags in arms that truly could snap him in half, “Ugh B- you’re so sweaty ple-ugh.” Squirming in the behemoth’s grasp his face is forced into sweaty pecs that promptly stain his mask a dark blue. “God you’re going to get your b.o. All over me dude-” 

There are a few more seconds of complaint before Bowen finally drops his little buddy. Picking up his phone there’s a look of concern or questioning on his face, any number of thoughts soar through his mind, has Bowen always been that tall? Why has he grown so much? What happened to him, is it going to happen to me? And then he takes a deep breath. A sigh in relief or irritation, it’s unclear, but it doesn’t matter. The camera gets a much better glimpse this time as the gym-goer breaths in the oh-so musky, mask filtered air.

Under the mask his mouth squrims into a grimace, but already eyes begin to give way to thoughtless longing. With another breath one twitches while the other falls open wide, wanting nothing more than to mainline the scent directly into his nervous system. Pupils dilate large enough to almost hide his cacao irises before a meaty hand pats him on the back, “Earth to Eddo- Bro? You comin’ to wash up or what huhuh!” Jarred back to sentience, Eddie nods and follows him, the recording ending a few moments after.

February 22nd:

The camera alights on someone unrecognizable baring his torso for fans he doesn’t yet have, though the glazed look in his eyes is more than enough hint to prove it is the vlogger before he introduces himself. “Yoooo guys! Back at it again with Bowen, how’re we lookin?”

Eddie flexes a thick bicep and smirks under his mask, adjusting it as he laughs. It’s deeper, slower, a far cry from his usual giggle. “oh yeah, I’ve been usin’ the gyms masks just like Bowen said. And I gotta say, I think they’re the real secret of this place, I’ve just been packin’ on muscle since I started borrowing them.”

Standing to his side, Bowen makes himself known, somehow even bulkier than last time. Veins criss cross his forearms and shoulders stretch wide enough that it’s a wonder he was able to even get the suctioned compression shirt om. The thin elastic straps of his mask almost snap as he speaks up, the meek camera-shy man he once was clearly erased from his mind, “I’m saying Ed! Don’t know why you were holdin’ out on trying them after seeing how much I’ve grown!” Bowen crosses his arms and his top is stretched to his limits.

Eddie laughs before his eyes go dull as laughter leaves him with no choice but to take yet another deep breath. Lost in a thought that seems to never come, his words are barely audible enough to be caught by the camera almost mistakable for a moan, it may as well be one. He whispers “need more.” Drawn out like a death knell his vocal chords creak as they lengthen. And then, the camera captures the impossible.

It looks as if it’s edited. Arms go limp as they hang lower, bloat larger, heavier, barely staying in their sockets before his shoulders similarly bulge into thick balls of muscle. Pecs that have existed for less than a month push his sweaty tank top to its limits. The bench on which he rests creaks under his weight as thighs send tears through athletic shorts that were already too tight to wear. 

Behind him, his massive trainer’s eyes widen as he pauses his workout to stare at Eddie’s growth. Hungrily watching as individual strands of muscle flex and surge. Were his own mask not already sweat-stained, the drool frothing from his mouth may be more apparent. Bowen lets his weights clatter to the floor as he staggers close and leans in close to Eddie’s neck, sniffing like a predator, releasing something in between a whimper and grown as his scarred palms clench at his prey-apparent’s biceps, still bulging larger in his hands.

Bowen’s chest, over doubled in size since he began frequenting this gym, produces a rumble low enough to barely register as words. Through his mask he teeths the man’s neck, “Think I got another idea to get some gains Eddie.” This stirs the man from his reveries though does not for minute stop his growth as he bolts to his feet, almost falling forward from the new weight on his chest. Surely he would have had the man about to work him out maintained the iron grip on his arm.

Not another word is heard from the pair as they swiftly retreat to the locker room. The tripod continues filming until Eddie’s phone dies and contains little else of note. Other gym goers wander around the background, all of them masked and many of them stare forward with the same glazed eyes as they sit at various machines, laughing to themselves, breathing heavily, and lifting more with each heaving rep. Just before his phone dies and the recording ends, the man who gave Bowen his mask collects the tripod, through his mask a smile is clear on his face.

On March fifteenth newly promoted Detective Archie Smith follows up on a lead from coworkers of the missing men that the pair had recently started hitting up the Musclerade Gym. something about vlogging. The detective didn’t care. Miraculously, almost immediately did he find a pair of men who identify as Eduardo and Bowen. The only thing is-both resolutely deny ever having worked in an office building. Beyond that, it barely takes a glance to tell that despite their names and races that they cannot be the men in question. By sheer body weight alone, it’s impossible

Sure Mr. Chen looks healthy enough in his license photo but that massive hunk that stands before him could punch straight through the Detective. With a gulp Archie finds his eyes desperately wanting to trace the powerful muscles, begging for his attention through spandex and strained nylon. He finds his attention drawn to his own crotch as he can’t help but trace the veins on ‘Eduardo’s’ flexing arms to a hairy armpit dripping with sweat. Before he’s lost to his lusts however, he comes to his senses as the acrid musk pouring from both men sears his nose.

With a grunt he shakes off the beyond unprofessional distraction and meets the eyes of both men, neither too pleased to see the officer in their space. He fakes a smile and turns to continue his investigation before being intercepted by a man who seems to be of some authority, pulling him off to the side. Only his eyes are visible which sets Archie on edge. “What seems to be the problem officer?”

He explains his case and the mystery man calls the pair over, their harsh glares soften and Eddie laughs as he’s reminded of his little vlogs. Apparently the pair are trainers at the gym which despite some strange ping at the back of his mind, ignoring something screaming from his gut, when he sees their sculpted forms, smells their noxious odors, he can’t help but believe them. The masked man even offers to give him the recorded film, that is as long as he’s okay adhering to the gym’s guidelines while he waits.

There’s a glint in the eyes of both massive men now standing behind him as they each dislodge wrinkled masks from stained pants that have clearly suffered at least one gym session. Prepared to suffer more discomfort than this to sate his curiosity he throws on one of the hopefully unused masks. It’s at this point that the case goes cold. 

This recounting of events, along with a copy of Eduardo Leon’s ‘vlogs’ were found sloppily scrawled on some magazines near the shredded uniform of Officer Smith. It doesn’t seem to be his handwriting unless he were racing quite hastily against, well. I haven’t quite the idea what. I suppose it is of some note that they were next to a bloated member of the gym who didn’t have any I.D. on him. His clothes seemed to be from a lost and found as they didn’t fit quite right. We were unable to further investigate his identity, but without a doubt it simply could not be Officer Smith.

The junior officer who retrieved the evidence could scarcely spend five minutes next to the man, and given Smith’s predilections towards order and cleanliness it simply could not be him. Unfortunately the state of the gym put the officer in such unease that he did no further investigation. It’s a shame as when an investigation team was sent the following day it was as if the gym was never there. I am not one for flights of fancy, it is my belief that the whole situation was simply some drug front, perhaps steroids. At any rate should you see, or perhaps smell any of these men. I advise caution. And under no circumstances should you borrow one of their face masks, obviously.

Included above are to our best knowledge are the most recent sightings of Bowen Chen, Eduardo Leon, and finally a third depicting Eduardo alongside who we believe to be the man of interest found nearby Officer Smith’s uniform. It seems they haven’t stopped growing, that is, if this all isn’t some wild goose chase. Again, if you have information do report to APD. Though please refrain from submitting any, biological material. We have lost enough of the forensics department to this mania as is.

[mctvsh]

first post here so i'm quite nervous, but!

all i can think of kidnapped!enemy!medic!reader x poly!tf141

cw: military & war inaccuracies + some medical inaccuracies as well, reader uses she/her pronouns, and is mostly girl based, mentions of religion & prayer, first time writing so it will unfortunately be sloppy 💕

let's just say the boys (mostly one you've come to known as, Ghost) haven't been too kind to you. taken from a random battlefield where you were technically there to help YOUR team. they practically throw you over their shoulder and find some fucked up abandoned building with nobody around to help..

great. now what?

you're mostly terrified, and a little pissed. you've heard a few things about them, whispers around your base which, to be frank, aren't the kindest words you've heard about someone! one of them is bleeding out, some guy with a mohawk and a Scottish accent. some gash on his.. thigh? you haven't really been listening since you're scared out of your mind.

your clothes are sticking quite uncomfortably on you, the wet concrete floor has made your ass numb. until they all come in. staring down at you like you're some piece of prey, holding a limping Scot.

"Fix him, yeah?" mutton-chops.

your eyes snap over to the guy who you assumed is the Captain. huh!?

"Uh- I.. need my tools-" you practically squeak out. avoiding eye contact. your medbag was taken from you the second they basically claimed you as 'theirs.'

you hear a grunt (Ghost, you're guessing) and then, thankfully, your medbag being thrown right at you.

you bite at your now chapped lips and create a makeshift bed with your jacket now on the floor and hesitantly nod to the dark skin. he was pretty, ah — getting side tracked. he was the one holding the Scot up, who had stopped his incessant comments (jokes, but weren't very funny) and was now grunting.

unfortunately, you're a medic, a person who helps people, before you're anything else.

the dark skinned male sets the Scot down, and you can see his shudder.. and you almost begin to feel bad before you feel a gun pressed to your back.

great.

"I can't help him if you're doing that." you swallow, thickly. you'll be killed!? isn't that a damn war crime!?

you feel the gun retreat after a few seconds of silence. you breathe out, albeit shakily, but trying not to give them a chance to know how terrified you were.

you locate the source of the bleeding, it isn't too bad at all. you open your medbag, grab some trauma shears, and you cut through his slacks, big enough to work on the stab wound which wasn't too deep but it still needed stitches.

you grab some gauze, disinfectant, numbing cream, and a thread and needle. okay, time to get to work..

it had been a little over 10 minutes. finally finished up with stitching as you place a bandage around his thigh, his pant leg wasn't fully cut off so it was definitely still wearable..

the second you finish up you're being pulled away by the scruff of your neck (Ghost again), your tools splayed out on the floor, thrown off to the side with a Captain staring down right at you.

"Your name?"

you blink up at him. muttering your name as you shuffle a little closer to the corner of the abandoned building. the dark skin and Ghost hover over the Scot instead. which meant that mutton-chops over here, was gonna grill you.. you think. until he stays silent and gives a hum in acknowledgment.

he would be handsome, kind even, if he wasn't staring down at you like that.

your eyes flick over to a Scot who had now been sat up with the help of a narrow eyed dark skin. you bite down, hard at your bottom lip. drawing some blood. you hear a grunt coming from the Scot who had, unfortunately, been feeling okay.

seems the numbing cream did it's job.. because he's back to flirting and making jokes.

"Thanks for patchin' me up, bonnie."

it's not like you had a choice... you nod at him and continue looking down at the floor.

"We'll take 'er back to base." Ghost.

your eyes widen and you suddenly feel a little more religious, praying to whatever God is up there and hoping for the best.

"Aye, a pretty lass, ain't she?" that damn Scot!

they're talking as if you're not right here!

"We still have hours before there's a chopper coming for us." the Captain, and that's all he says as he brings out a cigar. lighting it in your face as if it's some.. joke.

"Aye." the skull-mask says before his brooding body walks over to a corner, staring down at you with his arms crossed over his chest.

and suddenly, you feel a very familiar lump in your throat.. back to THEIR base!? who knows what they'll do to you..