#Eat dirt! You can kick rocks!

[velaenam]

𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc/mc. a lifelong love story that transcends loss, where caleb’s devotion endures through years of grief until he’s finally reunited with his beloved in the afterlife. w.c: 21.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 –  romance,fluff,angst,loss of life, grief, pregnancy, afterlife 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 – kinda proofread. i came up with this after listening to every breath you take by the police. i truly truly hope you enjoy it. — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated.

the sun is just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the quiet street. you’re playing in your front yard, the grass tickling your bare feet, when you hear it… a sound that makes your heart race with excitement: the unmistakable crunch of gravel underfoot. you freeze for a moment, squinting toward the new house next door.

someone’s moving in.

you’ve been eagerly waiting for new neighbors. your childhood, though filled with family, has felt a little too quiet lately. the idea of having a new friend nearby, someone to share the summer with, fills you with a kind of giddy hope you can’t quite explain. and then you see them—a boy, about your age, stepping out of the moving truck with his grandmother, his bright eyes scanning the neighborhood. he’s a little taller than you, with dark hair falling over his forehead, soft purple eyes, and the kind of quiet energy that makes you curious.

before you even know what’s happening, you’re crossing the yard, the dirt from the garden sticking to your hands as you reach the wooden fence separating your lawns. you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

"hi!" you call out, your voice unguarded and full of the raw excitement only a nine-year-old can feel. you quickly introduced him your name, followed by, " do you want to play?"

he turns, surprised at first, his gaze flickering to you as if he didn’t expect anyone to be watching. but then his lips curl into a shy smile, and something about it tugs at your chest, making your stomach flutter, but you did just eat something before running, that might’ve been it!

"uh, yeah. sure." his voice is soft, almost hesitant, but there’s something warm in his eyes. "i’m caleb."

you can’t help but giggle, because, well, caleb. it feels like one of those names you hear in movies, a little too cool for a kid like him. but his shyness only makes him more intriguing. as he steps closer, you notice something in the way he looks at you, the way his gaze lingers for a moment longer than it should. it’s not like he’s staring, but there’s this quiet sense of wonder in his eyes, like he’s trying to figure something out. you don’t know it yet, but it’s love, that quiet, unspoken thing that takes root long before he can even understand it.

"what do you want to do?" you ask, bouncing on your toes, ready to dive into whatever game you can think of, "i don’t know," he says, looking down at his feet, kicking a small rock. "what do you usually do?"

you shrug. "i don’t know either. i like to play hide-and-seek or tag or... whatever." you look over at him, hoping he’ll agree. and then you add, with a mischievous grin, "but i’m really good at it, so i’ll probably win."

he laughs softly, the sound light and carefree, and it makes something inside of you feel warm. there’s a moment of silence between you both, and then you realize: this, this feeling of meeting someone new, it’s more than just excitement. you feel like you’ve known him for longer, like he’s always been a part of you somehow.

"i’ll try my best," he says, his eyes twinkling with a challenge that you’ve never seen in him before, and you know, in that quiet, childlike way, this is the beginning of something that will stay with you forever.

a few days later, you’re outside again, running around in the yard with caleb. the sun is still high, the kind of warm you want to feel all day. you’re laughing, trying to steal the ball away from him, your bare feet kicking up the grass. 

you hear the door open, and out steps a little girl. she’s small, even smaller than you, with bright eyes that seem to take in everything at once. her pink dress is a little too big, and her hair’s in a messy ponytail that bounces as she walks. she looks kind of nervous but curious, like she’s trying to figure out the world.

caleb doesn’t notice her right away, but when he does, he grins and waves you over, “hey!” he calls out, his voice light. “this is my sister, mc.” you look at caleb, then over at mc. you blink, confused for a second. caleb has a sister? you didn’t know that. but then she’s standing right there, looking up at you, her little hands held awkwardly at her sides.

you give her your biggest smile, not sure what to say, but excited to meet her anyway. you hop over to the fence, and you tell her your name. then, “i like to play games, do you?” mc takes a second, then slowly smiles back, a bit shy. she looks up at caleb, then back at you. “i like to play,” she says, voice small but warm.

caleb is just watching the two of you, standing a little behind her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but his smile is soft. you notice it’s different when he’s with her—like he’s protective, maybe. like she’s something special, and maybe he’s figuring out how to be her brother.

“you wanna come play with us?” you ask, bouncing a little on your feet. “we’re playing soccer.” mc looks hesitant for a second but then nods. she steps forward, glancing at caleb, and then back at you, clearly unsure but willing to try.

you all spend the next few hours together, running around, laughing and falling down, making up new games and never worrying about anything except who could kick the ball the farthest. by the time the sun is starting to set, you’re sitting on the grass, covered in dirt and grass stains, but it’s the best feeling in the world.

later, you take them both inside to meet your parents. they’re surprised at first but warm, offering sandwiches and drinks and asking questions like they’ve known them forever. it feels right. they treat mc and caleb like they’re already part of the family, and you can see her relax, that little bit of worry fading from her face.

you’re already planning tomorrow’s adventure in your head, trying to figure out where to play next, but you’re pretty sure this is just the start of something special. you tell caleb and mc as much, your heart full, because this is it. this is your new normal. and somehow, it feels like they’ve always been a part of you.

it’s a little confusing at first. one day, caleb’s talking about starting school, just like you and mc, and then the next, he’s saying something about going somewhere else. somewhere called linkon academy? you don’t really get it, and neither does mc. you both just blink at him, like maybe he said it wrong.

"you’re going to a different school?" you ask, squinting at him like maybe that’ll make it make sense. caleb shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "grandma said it’s for... special kids. the really smart ones. it’s called linkon academy."

mc frowns, her little face scrunching up in that stubborn way she does when she doesn’t like something. "but we’re smart too," she says, crossing her arms. "why can’t we go?" you nod, agreeing with her, "yeah! we do math and stuff. i even know all the planets. why do you have to go somewhere else?"

caleb just shrugs again, looking at his shoes. "i don’t know. grandma just said it’s a good school. i don’t wanna go if you guys aren’t going."

the three of you sit on the front steps, picking at the little cracks in the concrete. it’s quiet for a while. you can tell caleb doesn’t like the idea of going either, but he’s not saying it. he’s too good at keeping his worries to himself, "it’s not fair," mc mumbles, kicking at a pebble. "we’re supposed to go to the same school."

you don’t really know what to say to make it better, so you just reach over and take caleb’s hand, squeezing it tight. mc notices and does the same on the other side. it’s kind of awkward, all of you holding hands like that, but it makes something settle in your chest. like even if things change, you’re still together.

"it’s okay," you say finally, trying to sound like it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. "we’ll still see each other after school, right?" caleb nods, but you can see his eyes are a little shiny, like he’s fighting not to cry. "yeah. i’ll come over every day. promise."

when school actually starts, it’s weird. you and mc walk to your school together, backpacks bouncing on your shoulders, while caleb goes the other way with their grandma. at first, it feels like someone cut the group in half, and neither of you really knows how to fill that space. but after a while, you and mc start getting used to it.

you sit together at lunch, share snacks, and walk home side by side sometimes. you make up stories about the other kids and giggle at the teacher’s funny way of talking. you don’t forget about caleb, of course not, but it’s like you and mc have your own little world now, too. it’s different, but not bad.

sometimes, when caleb comes home, he tells you stories about his school– how they have advanced math and how he’s learning chess even though it makes his head hurt. he tries to teach you both once, but you just end up using the pieces to build a tiny fort instead. he laughs, and you can tell he’s just happy to be back with you.

one day, mc looks at you when caleb’s not around and says, "i miss him." – "me too," you whisper back. but then you take her hand, just like that day on the steps, and say, "it’s okay. we’ll always be best friends. no matter what."

but you were kids, you felt like seeing your friend for less than 5 minutes was the end of it all. 

time feels weird when you’re a kid. those first few years of elementary school felt like they stretched on forever, and every time caleb walked a different way to his fancy school, it felt like a little piece of your group was missing. even though you saw him every morning and afternoon, something about being separated during the day made it feel like the world was just a little off.

but middle school changes everything.

you’re a little nervous that first day, trying to smooth out your shirt that suddenly feels too big and wondering if you’ll remember where all the classrooms are. mc’s right beside you, adjusting her backpack straps, while caleb is a few steps ahead, already looking like he belongs even though he’s just as new to this as you are.

you’re all at the same school now. caleb’s in the same grade as you, but they put him in the advanced classes. still, it doesn’t really matter. you’re just happy that for the first time in a while, you’re walking into the building together. it makes everything seem a little less scary.

mc’s talking a mile a minute about how the building smells different than elementary school and how she’s already seen a kid with braces, “he looked like a robot!”, and you’re just trying to take it all in. caleb’s quieter than usual, but you notice he keeps glancing back to make sure neither of you gets lost in the crowd.

you all find your lockers first, even though it takes a while since the numbers are weird and mc keeps mixing up which way the hall goes. caleb’s locker is a few rows away from yours and mc’s, but he makes sure to wait for you both before heading to homeroom.

when the bell rings for lunch, you and mc practically run to the courtyard, worried that caleb might have to sit somewhere else because of his schedule. but just as you’re about to panic, you spot him, waving you over to a spot under a tree. relief washes over you, and the three of you plop down in the grass like nothing’s changed.

“how’s your class?” you ask, unwrapping your sandwich.

caleb shrugs, biting into his apple. “okay. some of the kids know me from linkon. they keep asking if i’m gonna do the math club.” mc makes a face. “gross. who likes math that much?” you giggle, and caleb just shrugs again, his cheeks a little pink. “i guess they just do. but i’m not doing it. too much work.”

you all settle in, talking about your different classes and which teachers seem nice and which ones seem a little scary. mc’s excited because she already made a friend in her art class, and caleb nods along, asking questions even though you can tell he’s distracted. you get it, though. being back together like this—it feels right, but also new, like you’re still figuring out how to fit into this new version of your lives.

as the weeks go by, it starts to feel more normal. you, caleb, and mc walk to and from school together every day. caleb still gets pulled into higher-level classes sometimes, but he always meets you both at lunch. you still find your spot under the tree, and caleb always saves a seat even when mc gets sidetracked talking to her new friends.

one afternoon, when you’re all walking home, caleb slows down and glances over at you. “hey,” he says quietly, just loud enough for you to hear while mc is a few steps ahead. “i’m glad we’re at the same school again.”

you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours. “me too. it’s way better like this.”

he just nods, like he’s relieved to hear it, and falls back into step with you, catching up to mc when she waves at a cat crossing the road. it’s not perfect—sometimes you have to go different ways for class, and caleb’s homework seems twice as long as yours—but it’s better. it’s like the three of you are figuring out how to be a trio again, even if it looks a little different than it did before.

middle school feels different. not just because the classes are harder or because there’s suddenly way more homework. it’s like everyone’s changing, growing taller, getting louder, acting like they’re too cool for the things they used to love. you don’t really get it, and neither does mc. you still meet caleb  and mc every morning at your house so your parents can take the three of you to school, but even that feels different sometimes. like caleb’s distracted or caught up in something you can’t see.

he’s gotten... taller. way taller. when you stand next to him, your head barely reaches his shoulder now. he’s also way more involved—he joined the basketball team, he’s in some math club thing that you don’t understand, and even the teachers seem to like him because he’s always got his homework done early. it’s weird seeing him surrounded by people in the hallways, mostly girls from other classes who always seem to be giggling when he walks by.

you don’t really get it. it’s just caleb. the same kid who used to trip over his own feet and complain about spelling tests. but sometimes, when he’s laughing with his new friends, something tugs at your chest, and you don’t know why. you just know that when he sees you and mc waiting by his locker, his whole face lights up, and he waves you over, like nothing’s changed at all.

one afternoon, while you’re all walking home, mc’s chattering about how some girl in her class made a friendship bracelet and then cried when it broke. you’re only half-listening because caleb’s walking a little closer than usual, his shoulder brushing yours every few steps. it’s not a big deal, but it makes your face feel warm.

“hey,” he says suddenly, his voice quieter than usual, almost like he doesn’t want mc to hear. “you know that dance they’re having? next friday?”

you nod, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. “yeah. everyone’s talking about it.” caleb clears his throat, looking anywhere but at you. “are you... gonna go?” you shrug. “maybe. i don’t know. dances seem kinda weird.” he laughs, but it’s short, almost nervous. “yeah. totally. weird.”

there’s a pause, and you notice he’s gripping the strap of his backpack so tight his knuckles are white. you tilt your head, trying to figure out why he looks so serious all of a sudden. “are you going?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

he glances at you, then away. “i don’t know. some of the guys from the team are going. but... i wasn’t really planning on it. unless...” your heart skips a beat, and you’re not even sure why. “unless what?”

caleb looks at you for real this time, his cheeks a little pink. “unless you were going. i mean, we could... go together. if you want.” you feel your face heat up, and suddenly, it’s like the world’s too quiet, like even mc stopped talking just to listen. you’re not sure why it makes your stomach flip, but it does.

“like... together?” you echo, trying to make sense of it. caleb rubs the back of his neck, looking at the ground. “yeah. like, together. just... us.” you can’t help but smile a little, trying to hide it by looking at the ground. “okay. that sounds... fun.”

he relaxes, shoulders dropping, and his smile is so bright it makes your chest feel funny. “cool. it’s a date, then.” you don’t know why that word makes your heart race, but you don’t argue with it. mc finally pipes up, oblivious to the weird tension that just passed between you and caleb. “can i help pick out your dress?” she asks, already planning things in her head.

you laugh, grateful for the distraction. “sure.”

caleb keeps glancing at you on the rest of the walk home, his hand brushing yours once or twice. neither of you says anything about it, but something’s different. something good.

and for the first time, you’re kind of excited for a dance.

the house smells like hairspray and perfume. mc is fussing with your hair, trying to smooth it down while you’re looking in the mirror, twisting to see if the dress looks as nice as it did in the store. it’s a soft color, one mc picked out, and she’s wearing something similar—a little simpler, but just as pretty. she keeps telling you to stop fidgeting, but you can’t help it. your hands are a little shaky, and your heart keeps racing.

“you look really nice,” mc says, grinning. she’s got a few butterfly clips in her hair, and her dress is a soft shade of pink. “caleb’s gonna think so too.”

you roll your eyes, trying to act like that doesn’t make your stomach do a weird flip. “it’s just a dance.” she raises an eyebrow. “you’re acting like it’s more than just a dance.”

you open your mouth to argue, but there’s a knock on the door, and your dad calls from downstairs. “girls! caleb’s here!”

mc’s eyes go wide, and she grabs your hand, dragging you out of your room and down the stairs. your dad is already at the door, chatting with caleb like they’ve been friends forever. caleb’s standing there, dressed in a nice button-up shirt and dark pants. his hair’s been brushed back, but a few strands still fall into his eyes. he’s holding something small and wrapped in a little plastic box.

when he sees you, his mouth opens, and for a second, he just... stares. his cheeks turn pink, and he quickly looks at the ground, mumbling, “you look really pretty.”

your dad nudges him gently. “show her what you brought, son.” caleb swallows hard and steps forward, opening the box. inside is a little flower– a white carnation with a bit of greenery, tied with a pale ribbon. his hands shake a little as he pulls it out. “um... it’s a corsage,” he explains, stumbling over the word. “for your wrist. i saw it in a magazine and... i thought you might like it.”

you let him slip it onto your wrist, trying not to focus on how close his hands are to yours. it’s soft, and it smells nice, and you don’t think anyone’s ever given you something so pretty before.

“it’s perfect,” you whisper, smiling up at him. his face relaxes, and he mirrors your smile, like he was holding his breath until now. your dad claps his hands together. “alright! let’s get some pictures before you two head out.”

caleb shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t argue. mc’s already bouncing around, making sure you both stand in the right spots on the porch while your dad pulls out his old camera. caleb stands next to you, a little stiff at first, but then mc makes a silly face from behind your dad, and caleb laughs, his shoulders loosening up.

your dad takes a few shots—one of you both standing side by side, one with caleb a little closer, and one where he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know how he got this lucky. it makes your face go hot, and you’re glad when your dad finally lowers the camera and says, “alright, let’s get moving.”

you all pile into the car, with caleb in the back next to you, and mc up front with your dad. the drive to the school isn’t long, but it feels like forever. caleb’s knee keeps bumping yours, and every time it does, he mumbles an apology, even though you don’t mind.

your dad glances in the rearview mirror, eyes crinkling with a soft smile. “you two look great. have fun tonight, okay?” you both nod, and caleb gives a small, almost shy, “yes, sir.”

when you finally get to the school, the building is lit up with paper lanterns and balloons, and kids are already milling around the gym entrance. caleb hesitates for a second, then reaches out and lightly touches your hand. “ready?” he asks and you nod, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding. “yeah. let’s go.”

and with that, he leads you toward the doors, his fingers brushing against yours, and you can’t help but smile because, somehow, this feels just right.

the gym is buzzing with energy, kids everywhere, talking too loud and trying to look cooler than they are. there’s a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, reflecting little bits of light everywhere, and the speakers are playing some pop song that’s probably too grown-up for a middle school dance, but no one seems to care.

you glance around, trying to take it all in. mc is already running off to find some of her friends, promising to come back and check on you later. caleb sticks by your side, his hands shoved deep into his pockets like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

“it’s kinda loud,” he mumbles, looking a little overwhelmed.  you nod, feeling the same way. “yeah. and it smells weird.” he snorts, trying not to laugh too loud, “it does.”

just when it feels like you might actually relax, a group of boys from the basketball team spot caleb and come barreling over, practically tackling him in a swarm of loud greetings and slaps on the back. they’re talking about some game from last week, and caleb’s trying to keep up, looking a little caught off guard.

one of them, a tall kid named evan, grins at you. “hey, caleb! didn’t know you had a date.”

caleb’s face goes red, and he looks at you like he’s not sure what to say. you just smile politely, even though your stomach flips.

before caleb can say anything, another one of his friends nudges him. “c’mon, man, we’re gonna get some drinks and find the guys from the other team. you coming?” he says drinks with a cool undertone, even though the drink in question is a punch bowl containing kool aid tropical punch.

caleb hesitates, glancing at you. you just shrug, giving him a small smile. “it’s okay. go hang out. i’ll find mc or some of the girls from class.” he looks relieved, but still a little unsure. “are you... sure?” you nod, trying not to feel too disappointed. “yeah, it’s fine.”

he gives you a grateful smile before getting dragged off by his friends, and you watch him go, a weird tightness settling in your chest. you didn’t really think about the fact that he might have other people to hang out with. it shouldn’t bother you, but it does…just a little.

you wander around for a bit, finding some of your own friends who are gossiping in a corner about who’s dancing with who. one of them, kayla, gives you a knowing look. “i saw caleb with you earlier,” she teases. “you two look cute together.”

you feel your face heat up and just mumble something about how it’s not like that, but kayla just laughs and drags you closer to the group. for a while, you try to focus on what they’re talking about, but your eyes keep drifting around the room, wondering where caleb went.

then, out of nowhere, he’s there again, standing right in front of you, a little breathless. “hey,” he says, like he’s been looking for you.

“hey,” you reply, your heart thudding a little harder. he glances back over his shoulder, where his friends are still messing around near the punch table, then back at you. “do you... want to dance?”

you’re pretty sure your brain short-circuits for a second. “dance?”

“yeah. i mean... it’s a dance. we should... dance.” he’s stammering now, looking down at his shoes, and you realize he’s just as nervous as you are.

you nod, trying to keep your cool. “yeah. okay.”

he takes your hand, his palm a little sweaty but warm—and leads you out to the middle of the gym, where a slow song is starting to play. you’re not really sure where to put your hands, but he gently guides them to his shoulders, and his own hands hover awkwardly near your waist before settling there, barely touching. it’s clumsy and weird and makes your heart race like crazy.

you sway together, not really in time with the music, just moving in that nervous, uncertain way that middle schoolers do. you catch his eye a few times, and every time, he looks away, his ears turning red. but he’s smiling, soft and a little shy, and you can’t help but smile back.

after a minute, caleb clears his throat. “um... maybe... we could make a deal,” he says quietly, almost like he’s afraid of your answer.

“what kind of deal?” you ask, curious. he swallows, squeezing your hand just a little tighter. “we could go to every dance together. you know... so it’s not awkward. we’ll always have a... dance partner.”

your heart skips. it’s such a simple, silly idea, but it makes you feel warm. “okay,” you whisper. “it’s a deal.”

caleb’s smile gets a little wider, more confident. “cool.”

the song ends, and you both step back, hands dropping reluctantly. but even when the music changes to something fast, you just stand there, grinning at each other, like maybe you just figured out something important without really knowing how.

and you know—even if you don’t really understand why yet—that this is one of those moments you’ll remember for a long time.

middle school keeps rolling on, and things keep changing—faster than you expect. after that first dance, it’s like the whole school starts to see caleb differently. he’s not just the new kid anymore. he’s caleb—the guy on the basketball team who’s smart and athletic and pretty much good at everything. people start noticing him more, especially the girls. you hear them whispering about him in the hallways, giggling when he walks by.

you’d think it would make him different, but it doesn’t. he’s still caleb—the same guy who sneaks snacks into class and makes dumb jokes when you’re having a bad day. the only difference is that more people seem to know his name now.

it’s not just him, though. as the year goes on, you start noticing that people look at you differently too. you didn’t really plan on joining volleyball, but mc talked you into it, saying you should at least try. you ended up liking it way more than you thought. the practices are long, but you’re getting better—quicker on your feet, stronger with your serves.

you start to notice other things too—how your face seems a little softer, your hair shinier, your smile brighter. one of the older girls on the team says you’re “getting cuter every day,” and you don’t really know what to say except mumble a thank you and hope no one sees your blush.

the attention doesn’t go unnoticed. people start talking to you more—complimenting your hair, asking if you’re going to the next game. it’s weird at first, but mc just beams every time someone notices you, like she’s proud.

one afternoon, you’re leaving practice, your gym bag slung over your shoulder, when you spot caleb waiting by the gym doors. his basketball practice ended a while ago, but he’s still here, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand. he looks up when he sees you, his eyes widening just a bit.

“hey,” he greets, tucking his phone away. “how was practice?” – “good,” you reply, a little out of breath from drills. “coach made us run like, a hundred laps. i swear my legs are gonna fall off.”

he chuckles, but it’s softer than usual, his eyes not quite meeting yours. “you look... different.” you tilt your head. “different how?”

he rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the ground. “just... i don’t know. cuter. like... you look nice.”

your stomach flips, and you can feel your face getting warm. “oh. thanks.”

the walk home is a little quieter than usual, but it’s not uncomfortable. just... different. caleb keeps sneaking glances at you, and every time you catch him, he looks away, pretending he’s looking at the sky or a bird or something.

at school, you start noticing that other people are looking too. one day in the cafeteria, you’re carrying your lunch tray when one of the boys from the track team calls out, “hey, nice serve at the last game!” you give a quick nod, trying not to trip over your own feet, and when you sit down at your usual spot, caleb’s already there, frowning at the guy from across the room.

“you know him?” he asks, stabbing at his food with his fork, “not really,” you answer, a little confused. “just from gym.” caleb just grunts, not saying much after that, but he’s definitely quieter than usual. mc plops down next to you, oblivious to the weird tension, and starts talking about some science project, and you just focus on that instead.

later that week, you’re at your locker, gathering your books for class, when caleb leans against the one next to yours. he’s been doing that a lot lately—just showing up out of nowhere and sticking close, like he doesn’t really want to leave your side.

“are you... going to the next game?” he asks, trying to sound casual. you look at him, surprised. “your game?” – “yeah. or yours. either one.” you can’t help but laugh. “i always go to your games. and you always come to mine.” he just shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “just making sure.”

you catch that soft, almost unsure smile, and you realize it’s been happening more and more lately—him looking at you like he’s trying to figure something out. it makes you feel weirdly happy, but also nervous, like something big is about to happen and you’re not ready for it. you don’t say anything else, just bump his shoulder as you pass by, and he trails behind you like a shadow, still looking a little dazed.

high school isn’t as scary as it was at first. after a few months, you start to get used to the routine—the long hallways, the crowded cafeteria, and the way everyone seems to be figuring out who they want to be. it’s weird how fast things change.

mc’s still stuck in middle school, but that doesn’t stop her from showing up at your practices whenever she can, cheering way too loud from the bleachers. one day, when she’s supposed to be doing homework, she blurts out, “i have a boyfriend!”

you nearly drop your water bottle, and caleb, who’s sprawled on the living room floor with a textbook, sits up so fast he almost knocks his head on the coffee table. “you what?” he demands, eyes wide.

mc just grins, not at all phased by his reaction. “his name’s ryan. he’s in my math class. he asked me to the winter dance.” caleb’s face does this weird thing where he’s trying to look calm but failing miserably. “does grandma know?”

mc rolls her eyes. “of course. she said it was fine. it’s just a dance.” you snort, nudging caleb with your foot. “calm down, dad.”

he glares at you but doesn’t argue. you know he’s just being protective, but mc doesn’t look like she cares one bit. she’s too busy grinning and kicking her legs happily off the couch.

meanwhile, caleb’s life keeps shifting too. it’s like every day, more people know who he is. he’s not just the captain of the basketball team anymore—he’s the guy everyone seems to want to talk to, whether it’s about sports, math, or just to say hi in the hallways. it doesn’t bother you, not really, but it’s a little weird seeing girls you don’t know trying to get his attention.

one day after school, you’re in the courtyard waiting for him when he walks out, looking like he’s in a daze. when he spots you, he makes a beeline over, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

“you good?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, he shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. “uh... i just got asked out.”

you blink, trying to process that. “oh. by who?”

“jenny. from english.” he rubs the back of his neck, his ears turning pink. “we were project partners. she said she liked me and... asked if we could go to the movies sometime.”

you feel your stomach flip, but you force a smile. “and? what’d you say?” he hesitates. “i... said yes. i didn’t really know how to say no. she’s nice, and we’ve been working on that paper together for weeks. it felt... rude.”

you nod, trying to ignore the weird feeling creeping up your spine. “that’s... cool. good for you.” he doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it. instead, he changes the subject, talking about practice and how the coach is pushing them harder since the playoffs are coming up.

a few weeks later, you notice he’s been reading a lot more about the DAA. you find him one afternoon flipping through a brochure, his face focused and thoughtful.

“thinking of joining the DAA?” you tease, leaning over his shoulder.

he glances up, a little smile tugging at his lips. “maybe. there’s a program for pilots. coach mentioned it since they recruit athletes sometimes. it sounds... cool.” – “you’d make a good pilot,” you say, meaning it. “you’ve always been good at handling pressure.”

he shrugs, but you can tell he likes the idea. “it’d be something big. something important. flying ships, protecting people... it sounds like a good way to use all this,” he says, gesturing to himself like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his skills otherwise.

you just smile, watching him flip through the pages. you can already tell he’s hooked on the idea. it’s like something clicked into place for him, and he’s finally got a dream of his own. it makes you happy—even if a small, selfish part of you wonders what it would be like if he wasn’t always surrounded by people who wanted his attention.

and when jenny shows up at lunch the next day, smiling shyly at him and asking if he’s still good for the movies that weekend, you make yourself smile and wave. it’s just caleb being caleb—good at everything, good with everyone. you just didn’t realize it would feel this complicated.

jenny doesn’t last long. caleb goes to the movies with her, and when you ask him about it afterward, he just shrugs. “she’s nice,” he says, not meeting your eyes. “but... i don’t know. it just didn’t feel right. she talked a lot about stuff i didn’t really care about. and she didn’t get my jokes.”

you just nod, trying not to look too happy about it. “maybe it’s just one of those things. not everyone clicks.” he hums in agreement, and that’s the end of that. jenny still says hi to him in the hallways, but she doesn’t seem too heartbroken.

time moves faster after that. by the time sophomore year hits, caleb’s gotten even taller, and his shoulders are broader. he’s still on the basketball team, still captain, and people are starting to notice how much he’s filling out. you hear girls whisper about him in the hallways, wondering if he’s dating anyone. it’s a little weird hearing them talk like that, but you just brush it off.

one weekend, your dad offers to teach caleb how to drive. you’re sitting on the porch with mc, watching as caleb struggles to figure out how to work the clutch on your dad’s old truck. it stalls twice, and you can hear caleb cussing under his breath while your dad tries not to laugh. “think he’ll ever get it?” mc asks, leaning against your shoulder. you grin. “eventually. he’s just gotta stop freaking out every time the truck lurches.”

eventually, caleb gets the hang of it, and by the time he’s done with his lesson, he’s grinning like a little kid who just learned how to ride a bike. he jogs up to the porch, a little sweaty and proud of himself.

“i didn’t crash,” he announces, like it’s the best accomplishment of his life.

you laugh. “congrats. you officially didn’t die.”

your dad just shakes his head fondly, patting caleb on the shoulder. “you’ll get better with practice. just gotta ease up on the clutch.”

after that, it becomes kind of routine. caleb practicing driving with your dad while you and mc hang out on the porch, doing homework or just talking about school. sometimes you all end up inside, spreading out at the dining room table with textbooks and notebooks. caleb’s good at math, so he helps you when the equations start looking like a different language, and you help mc with her english homework, making sure she actually finishes her reading instead of just skimming it.

you start noticing that the conversations feel different now. it’s not just about classes or practice anymore. sometimes caleb talks about the future, about how he’s still looking into the DAA programs and how they’re taking applications soon for summer camps for prospective pilots. you encourage him, even though the thought of him flying far away someday makes your stomach twist a little.

one night, after everyone’s gone home and it’s just you and caleb on the porch, he leans back against the steps and looks up at the sky, “sometimes i think about how fast everything’s moving,” he admits, his voice quiet. “feels like just yesterday we were running around the yard with mc, playing tag.”

you nod, resting your chin on your knees. “yeah. now she’s got a boyfriend, and you’re driving, and everyone’s talking about what they want to do after school. it’s kinda scary.” he glances over at you, his eyes soft. “you know... even if things change, we’ll still be us, right?” you look at him, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

he shrugs, looking down at his hands. “just... sometimes i worry. that we’re growing up too fast. like... what if things aren’t the same later?”

you nudge his shoulder gently. “they’ll be the same if we make them the same. you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.” that makes him smile, the kind that reaches his eyes. “good. wouldn’t want to.”

there’s a comfortable silence after that, and you can’t help but think that maybe growing up doesn’t have to mean growing apart. maybe it just means figuring out how to stay close, even when things get harder.

and when caleb glances at you again, his gaze lingering a little too long to be just friendly, you wonder if maybe you’re both figuring out the same thing—how to hold onto each other even as the world keeps changing.

after that first awkward driving lesson with your dad, things start to fall into place. caleb keeps practicing, getting more comfortable behind the wheel, and before long, he’s driving around town with you and mc in the truck, laughing at every bump and gear shift. it becomes routine—caleb behind the wheel, you in the passenger seat, mc in the back, like you’re your own little team.

it doesn’t take long for your parents and their grandma to realize that he’s the one who’ll be doing most of the driving when school starts back up again. so, one night after dinner, your dad pulls out an envelope and hands it to caleb, looking more serious than usual.

“it’s from me, your grandma, and the neighbors,” he says. “figured you’d need something a little more reliable than the old truck. we pooled together for something safe since you’re gonna be driving these two around.”

caleb’s eyes go wide, hands shaking a little as he pulls out a set of keys. “wait... you got me a car?”

your dad grins. “it’s not new, but it’s in good shape. thought you’d like to take a look.”

you, mc, and caleb all pile out onto the driveway, where a dark blue sedan is parked, shiny and clean. caleb walks around it like he’s in a dream, barely able to believe it’s real.

“this is... this is mine?” he asks, still looking a little shell-shocked.

your dad claps him on the shoulder. “yep. just make sure you keep it clean, and no speeding. remember, it’s not just your life you’re responsible for—it’s theirs too.”

caleb swallows hard, nodding. “i promise. thank you.”

you and mc pile in, immediately claiming seats and testing the windows, while caleb just sits in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel like he’s afraid to touch anything. you can’t help but smile, seeing how careful he’s being, like he might break it just by breathing too hard.

after that, it’s like the car becomes your second home. caleb drives you everywhere—to practice, to study sessions, even to pick up groceries when your mom’s too tired to go. he never complains, just slides behind the wheel and waits for you to buckle up, always reminding mc to wear her seatbelt even though she grumbles about it.

the holidays come and go, and the three of you spend more time together than ever. Caleb and mc’s grandma insists on hosting thanksgiving, so you and your family pile into the car and drive over (even though you’re like a couple houses away), caleb behind the wheel and mc talking about how she’s going to eat three slices of pie. christmas is spent at your house, with caleb showing off the scarf mc knitted him—even if it’s a little lopsided and full of dropped stitches.

by the time spring rolls around, caleb’s gotten used to the car, even if he still washes it religiously every weekend. he never forgets to pick you up, even on days when practice runs late or you’re too tired to text him back. it’s like second nature—caleb waiting out front, his music playing softly through the speakers, the three of you falling into place like you were always meant to be this way.

and then, finally, mc joins you at high school. it’s weird at first, seeing her in the hallways with her own friends, but she still meets you both at lunch, and caleb always makes sure she’s got a ride home. she’s grown up a little over the summer, taller and more confident, and she doesn’t cling to you as much as she used to. but she’s still the same mc—still eager to tell you about her day, still rolling her eyes when caleb makes dad jokes.

you notice how caleb’s popularity has only grown—people wave at him in the hallways, call out his name between classes, and he always waves back, even if he doesn’t know them. he’s still the basketball captain, and he’s starting to really look like an athlete—tall, lean, his hair a little longer and constantly messy from practice.

it’s almost like things have settled into a rhythm—school, practice, hanging out at your place or his, planning out summer trips. caleb’s still talking about the DAA, researching how to apply and what training he’d need. you keep encouraging him, even though the thought of him flying off somewhere far away someday makes your chest feel tight.

one evening, after a long study session in your living room, caleb falls asleep on the couch, his textbook open on his lap. mc’s already curled up in the armchair, dozing off too, and you just sit there for a moment, looking at them both. it feels... right. comfortable. like you’re all exactly where you’re supposed to be.

you drape a blanket over caleb, and just as you’re about to head to bed, he stirs, eyes half-open. “you okay?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “yeah,” you whisper back. “just... thinking.” he nods, not really awake, but his hand reaches out, gently catching yours. you stand there for a moment, his fingers warm and familiar around yours, and then he falls back asleep, still holding on.

you know you should pull away, but you don’t. you just sit there next to him, his hand in yours, the room quiet except for the soft sound of mc snoring, and you can’t help but hope that moments like this never change.

it’s late, and the house is quiet. mc went to bed hours ago, and your parents are probably asleep by now too. you and caleb sit on the porch steps, shoulders brushing as you look up at the stars. it’s cool out, and you can see your breath when you talk, little puffs of white against the dark.

caleb’s got his knees pulled up, arms draped over them, and his eyes are fixed on the sky. you don’t know why, but tonight feels different—calm but heavy, like there’s something he’s not saying. you nudge him gently with your elbow. “what’s on your mind?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just tips his head back a little more, like he’s trying to get a better look at the sky. “sometimes i wonder what it’s like up there,” he says quietly. “being that far away from everything. floating... where no one can reach you.”

you glance at him, taking in the thoughtful look on his face. “sounds lonely.” he shakes his head. “no. i don’t think it would be. i think it’d feel... peaceful. like nothing else matters. just you and the stars.”

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. “you really wanna do it, don’t you? fly for the DAA?”

he nods, finally looking at you. “yeah. it’s like... the only thing that makes sense. i don’t know why, but... i just feel like i’m supposed to be up there.” you give him a small smile. “you’ll get there. i know you will.”

he smiles back, softer this time, but there’s still something in his eyes that looks uncertain. “when i’m up there... you’ll be watching me, right?”

you don’t even hesitate. “of course. i’ll be there for everything. you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

something changes in his expression, like relief, mixed with something warmer, softer. he doesn’t say anything for a while, just looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your face. the porch light casts a glow over both of you, and the night feels quieter than usual.

“good,” he murmurs. “i want you to be there.”

you’re about to ask him why he looks so serious when he moves just a little closer, his hand brushing against yours. you don’t pull away. his gaze drops to your mouth, and you swear your heart stops for a second.

before you can think too hard about it, he leans in and kisses you. it’s soft, like he’s afraid to push too far. his lips are warm, and his hand finds yours, fingers lacing together. it’s just a moment—a breath, really—but it feels like time stopped around you.

when he pulls back, his face is flushed, and he immediately drops his eyes, letting go of your hand. “sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “i didn’t... i shouldn’t have...”

you reach out and grab his hand again before he can pull away completely. “caleb,” you say softly, making him look at you. “it’s okay. i wasn’t uncomfortable.”

his shoulders relax a little, and he looks at you like he’s trying to figure out if you mean it. “really?”

you nod, squeezing his hand. “really.”

he lets out a breath he must’ve been holding and finally smiles, a little crooked, a little shy. “okay. good. because... i kind of wanted to do that for a while.”

you laugh softly, your own cheeks warm. “me too.”

you don’t say much after that, just sit there with his hand in yours, staring up at the stars like they’re giving you some kind of answer you didn’t know you were looking for. and even though nothing’s really changed, it feels like everything has—like the space between you just got a little smaller, and you’re not sure you want it to go back to how it was.

you just sit there, fingers intertwined, and watch the stars until the air gets too cold, and you know it’s time to go inside. but even when you’re both heading to your rooms, you still feel the tingle of his kiss on your lips and the way his hand fit perfectly in yours.

after that night on the porch, something changes. it’s not obvious at first—just little things. caleb standing a little closer when you’re talking, brushing his hand against yours when you’re walking home. he doesn’t say anything about the kiss, but he doesn’t avoid you either. in fact, it’s almost like he’s more comfortable now, like he’s finally settled into the space between you.

mc notices it first, of course. she teases you both constantly, rolling her eyes every time caleb reaches for your hand or leans his shoulder against yours when you’re sitting on the couch. one night, when caleb’s out running errands with your dad, she smirks and says, “you know he’s in love with you, right?”

you feel your face heat up immediately. “he is not.”

mc just shrugs, grinning. “sure. that’s why he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. even grandma noticed.”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you just shove a pillow at her, pretending not to hear. but deep down, you can’t help but think that maybe she’s right.

a few days later, you’re in the kitchen helping your mom with dinner when caleb walks in with your dad, both of them covered in dust from fixing the shed roof. your dad’s laughing about something caleb said, clapping him on the shoulder, and caleb’s trying to brush dirt off his jeans without making a bigger mess.

your mom just shakes her head, passing them both some lemonade. “you boys are a mess,” she teases. caleb grins, but his gaze flicks to you, softening. “sorry for tracking dirt in,” he mumbles, but your mom just waves it off.

“don’t worry about it. you helped fix the shed—i’ll take a little dirt over that roof leaking.”

as they talk, you notice caleb glance at your dad, then back at you, like he’s weighing something in his head. finally, he clears his throat. “can i talk to you for a sec?” he asks your dad, his tone a little more serious.

your dad raises an eyebrow, but he nods. “sure. what’s up?”

they step outside to the porch, and you feel a weird sense of panic rise in your chest. your mom notices, patting your shoulder gently. “don’t worry,” she whispers. “it’s probably nothing.”

a few minutes later, they come back in. your dad’s grinning, and caleb looks a little flushed, but he’s smiling too. your dad ruffles caleb’s hair like he’s still a kid. “you’re alright, son,” he says warmly. “just treat her right.”

caleb nods earnestly. “i will.” your mom just looks amused, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “i think that boy just asked for permission to take you out.”

your face burns, and you barely manage to look at caleb as he walks over, rubbing his hands together nervously. “uh... can we talk?”

you nod, letting him pull you outside, where the air feels a little cooler, crisper. he takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing for a big game. “i... talked to your dad,” he starts, not quite meeting your eyes. “i just... i wanted to make sure he was okay with it before i asked you.”

your heart pounds in your chest. “asked me what?” caleb looks at you, his eyes steady and serious. “if you’d go out with me. like... on a real date.”

you stare at him for a second, trying to process the words. “a date?” he nods, his face a little pink. “yeah. i mean, i know we hang out all the time anyway, but... i want to do it right. take you out, just us. because... i really like you. and i want to... do this the right way.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, relief and excitement mixing together. “you didn’t have to ask my dad, you know.” he shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “yeah, but... it felt right. like... i wanted to make sure he knew i wasn’t just messing around.”

you can’t help but laugh, stepping closer and grabbing his hand. “you’re kind of a dork, you know that?” he grins, finally relaxing. “yeah. but you like me anyway.” you roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it. “okay. yes. i’ll go out with you.”

caleb’s whole face lights up, and he pulls you into a hug, holding you tight like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind. you just laugh against his shoulder, feeling that familiar warmth settle in your chest. it’s not just relief—it’s happiness, pure and simple.

when he pulls back, his hands linger on your waist, and he looks at you like he’s still trying to believe this is real. “so... friday night?” he asks, a little breathless. “there’s this diner i’ve been wanting to take you to.”

you nod, still grinning. “sounds perfect.”

he leans down and presses a soft, quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back, clearly trying not to look too eager. but you can see it in his eyes—that quiet, steady affection that’s been there all along.

and when you head back inside, hands still entwined, your parents just smile knowingly, like they’ve been waiting for this just as long as you have.

senior year came faster than you expected. one minute you’re trying to figure out your class schedule, and the next, it’s almost summer. you and caleb have been dating for a while now—long enough that it feels normal to hold his hand in the hallways or sit with him at lunch, even if people still whisper sometimes.

he’s still on the basketball team, still the captain, and you’ve made it through another volleyball season. life is good—busy, but good. but then the acceptance letter from the DAA comes, and suddenly, everything feels a little more real.

caleb gets in. of course he does. they want him to join their summer program, which means he’ll be gone for three months. he’s over the moon about it—excited and nervous and already packing weeks before he has to leave. you’re happy for him, really, but there’s this knot in your stomach that doesn’t go away.

the day before he leaves, he’s at your house, sprawled out on your bed, flipping through the welcome packet they sent. mc’s in the living room, packing her bag for the family vacation. your parents decided to take you, mc, and josephine to the coast for a few weeks—a little getaway before the school year kicks back up again.

“they’re gonna make us take a fitness test on the first day,” caleb says, flipping a page. “bet half of them are gonna pass out in the heat.”

you smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. “you’ll be fine. you’re like... the fittest person i know.”

he snorts. “i don’t know. some of these guys are already doing flight training. i’m just... playing catch-up.”

you brush his hair out of his face, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “you’ll do great. they’re lucky to have you.”

he turns his head, and for a second, his expression softens. “you think so?”

you nod. “yeah. you’re gonna be amazing.”

he doesn’t say anything, just pulls you closer until you’re tucked under his arm, his face buried in your hair. “i’m gonna miss you,” he mumbles.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “me too. but it’s just one summer. and when you come back, we’ll have senior year.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue. instead, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through some of the emails from the DAA. you can’t help but notice the way his hand tightens around yours, like he’s afraid to let go.

later that night, your family is bustling around, making sure everyone’s bags are packed. josephine is lecturing mc about not forgetting sunscreen, and your dad is triple-checking the car’s tire pressure. caleb lingers by the porch, watching you move around the house like he’s trying to memorize every detail.

when it’s finally time for him to leave, he walks you out to his car. the sun’s low in the sky, casting long shadows across the driveway.

“i’ll text you when i get there,” he promises, squeezing your hand. “and... i’ll try to call when i can.” you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. he looks at you, and there’s this sad, crooked smile on his face. “it’s just a few months,” he says, more to himself than to you.

before you can think too hard about it, you reach up and kiss him—slow and soft, like you’re trying to make it last. when you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, and he just breathes you in.

“be safe, okay?” you whisper, “always,” he replies, kissing you one more time before finally forcing himself to step back.

you watch him drive away, the knot in your stomach tightening, and when you go back inside, mc is waiting with that look on her face—the one that says she’s trying to be comforting without being obvious.

the next morning, you’re all packed into the car, with josephine already telling stories about her own high school days as your dad navigates the highway. the coast isn’t too far, but it feels like hours. mc keeps showing you pictures of the cabin you’ll be staying in—rustic but cute, with a view of the beach.

you lean against the car window, your phone clutched in your hand, waiting for caleb’s text. when it finally comes, it’s short but enough to make you smile: 

caleb: made it safe. wish you were here. you: miss you already. have fun.

the rest of the drive feels a little lighter after that. once you get to the cabin, it’s chaos—unpacking, arguing over who gets which room, and josephine trying to convince mc to help her make sandwiches for everyone. the beach stretches out just beyond the cabin, and you can hear the waves crashing even from inside.

as the sun sets that night, you and mc sit on the porch, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. it’s beautiful, and you almost forget that caleb’s not there with you. mc nudges your shoulder. “he’ll be fine,” she says confidently, “it’s caleb.”

you nod, smiling despite yourself. “yeah. it’s just... weird. not having him here.”

she grins, pulling out her phone to snap a picture of the sunset. “well, when he gets back, you’ll have all these stories to tell. just think of it that way.” you lean back against the porch railing, letting the cool breeze hit your face. maybe she’s right—maybe it’s just one summer. but still, you can’t help but wonder if caleb’s looking at the sky right now too, thinking about you.

senior year arrives, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been waiting forever for it. summer flew by without caleb—just phone calls and texts when he could find the time, updates on his training and how much he missed home. you didn’t really know what to expect when he finally came back, but when he steps out of his car on the first day of school, you nearly forget how to breathe.

he’s... different. taller, definitely, and his shoulders are broader. his arms look stronger, more defined, and his hair’s a little shorter, but it suits him. he’s wearing his usual easy smile, but there’s a confidence there that wasn’t quite as sure before. when he sees you waiting at the school gate, he grins like he’s just spotted something he’s been looking for.

you barely have time to react before he sweeps you into a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you once before setting you back down. “hey,” he breathes, looking down at you with that familiar softness. “missed you.”

you laugh, swatting at his chest. “you didn’t tell me you’d turn into a superhero while you were gone.” he just shrugs, smirking. “training. gotta stay in shape.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but notice how much more solid he feels, like he’s really grown into himself. “you look... good,” you admit, a little embarrassed. he brushes his thumb over your cheek, not even bothering to hide his smile. “so do you.”

the year kicks off, and it’s different from the others. there’s a feeling of finality, like everyone’s already thinking about the future, but it’s also more relaxed. fewer classes, more free periods, more time to just be together. you and caleb spend your evenings studying for college applications, going on dates, and helping mc with her sophomore homework when she gets overwhelmed.

you visit a few college campuses, some nearby and some a little further out, and caleb talks about how he’s still thinking about the DAA but wants to keep his options open. every time you bring up the future, his expression gets a little more serious, but he never lets go of your hand, like he’s grounding himself with you.

and then prom season rolls around. you didn’t really think much about it at first, but mc’s been planning your outfit since winter break. she practically forces you into a dress the week before, making sure it’s perfect. caleb, of course, tries to play it cool, but you know he’s just as excited.

the night of prom, he shows up at your house with a corsage that matches your dress and a suit that makes him look like he stepped out of a movie. your parents insist on taking pictures, and caleb’s hands are warm on your waist as he pulls you close, both of you smiling too big to look cool.

the gym is transformed—streamers and twinkling lights everywhere, and a DJ blasting songs that everyone knows by heart. caleb keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulder as you navigate the crowd. he’s saying hi to everyone, accepting compliments and teasing from his teammates, but his attention never strays far from you.

it’s not a surprise when they announce caleb as prom king. the whole room erupts in cheers, and he just looks a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck as they hand him a plastic crown. but when they call out the prom queen’s name—jessica, one of the cheer captains—you see caleb’s smile falter just a little.

the tradition is for the prom king and queen to dance together, and the DJ starts queuing up a slow song. jessica steps forward, clearly thrilled, but caleb just shakes his head, already walking off the stage. he makes his way through the crowd, weaving between people, and you feel a weird pang in your chest, like maybe he’s just going to go along with it.

but then he’s right there, standing in front of you, holding out his hand.

“hey,” he says, like he didn’t just break some unspoken rule. “can i have this dance?”

you blink, trying to process it. “but... aren’t you supposed to dance with her?”

he shrugs, not looking the least bit bothered. “maybe. but i have my own tradition. i promised you, remember?”

your heart thuds against your ribs as you take his hand, letting him pull you to the center of the room. he’s still wearing that ridiculous plastic crown, but you can’t help but laugh when he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

the song is slow, something soft and familiar, and caleb’s hands are gentle on your waist as you sway together. you feel the weight of the moment, like everything in your lives has led to this one dance.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you murmur. “everyone’s staring.” he just smiles, unfazed. “don’t care. i made a promise. every dance, remember?” you can’t help but smile back, tightening your hold on him. “yeah. every dance.”

as the song continues, you’re barely aware of the other people around you. it’s just caleb, his eyes locked on yours, like he’s trying to tell you something without saying a word. when the song ends, the room bursts into applause, and you finally notice that people aren’t upset—they’re cheering for you both.

jessica looks a little put out, but even she doesn’t seem mad, just resigned, like she knew caleb would pick you. he doesn’t notice her sulking, just pulls you closer, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your forehead.

“thanks for being my tradition,” he whispers. you laugh, resting your head on his chest. “thanks for keeping it.”

and as the night goes on, you can’t help but think that maybe this is the happiest you’ve ever been. it’s just you and caleb, dancing to a song you’ve already forgotten, but it doesn’t matter—because he’s the one who chose you, every time.

graduation day feels surreal. the gym is packed with parents, siblings, teachers, and everyone you’ve grown up with. the rows of seats are filled with restless energy—people adjusting their caps, whispering about plans for the summer, and trying not to think too hard about how this is the end of high school.

you’re in your cap and gown, sitting next to mc, who’s pouting like it’s her job. “i still don’t get why i couldn’t graduate with you guys,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

you laugh, nudging her shoulder. “because you’re a sophomore, genius.”

she sticks her tongue out at you but doesn’t push it. you know she’s just upset that you’re both leaving soon. it’s hard to believe that after today, things are going to change for good. you’re both going to skyhaven—caleb for the DAA college program to become a pilot, and you for business and management. it’s comforting to know you’ll be in the same city, but the idea of not seeing him every day still makes your chest ache.

when the principal steps up to the microphone and announces caleb as the valedictorian, the whole gym erupts in cheers. he’s been working on his speech for weeks, but you can tell he’s still nervous as he steps up to the podium, adjusting the microphone. his cap’s a little crooked, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

he clears his throat, glancing at the crowd, and for a second, you swear he’s looking just at you. “uh, hey,” he starts, his voice a little rough. “um... first off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who’s helped us get here. parents, teachers, friends... you guys made this possible.”

he pauses, shifting his weight, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady. “it’s weird to think that this is it—the end of high school. i remember being that nervous freshman who didn’t know how to find his own locker. now we’re here, about to head off in a million different directions. it’s exciting, but also kind of terrifying.” a few people chuckle, and he relaxes a little, his hands gripping the sides of the podium. “for me, it’s always been about finding where i belong. basketball was a big part of that, but it’s not just about the team or the wins. it’s about the people—the friends who stuck by me, the ones who reminded me that it’s okay to be unsure sometimes.”

his gaze finds yours again, and you feel your heart skip. “there’s one person in particular who... well, who’s always been there. even when i wasn’t sure who i was. she kept me grounded. believed in me when i wasn’t sure i could do it. and... she’s more than just my best friend. she’s the person i want by my side, no matter where we go next.”

you’re pretty sure your face is on fire, and mc’s giving you that look—the one that says, “i told you so.” caleb clears his throat again, his cheeks a little red. “so... thank you. to everyone. but especially to her. i wouldn’t be standing here without you.”

there’s a murmur of curiosity in the crowd, but caleb doesn’t explain further. he just looks at you one more time, like he’s making sure you heard him.

the rest of his speech is more general—encouraging everyone to chase their dreams, to make mistakes, and to never forget where they came from. when he finishes, the applause is loud enough to shake the room, and he ducks his head a little as he walks back to his seat.

when he sits down next to you, you don’t say anything at first. you just reach over and grab his hand, squeezing tight. he looks at you, a little nervous, but when you smile, he relaxes, lacing his fingers with yours.

as names are called and diplomas are handed out, you try to hold onto this feeling—the pride, the excitement, and the relief that, even as things change, some things will stay the same.

after the ceremony, mc practically tackles caleb in a hug, grumbling about how dumb it is that he’s leaving. he just laughs, ruffling her hair, and promises that he’ll visit as often as he can.

your parents snap a million pictures—one of you and caleb in your caps, one of caleb holding mc on his back, and one of you two leaning against the school sign, his arm around your waist.

as the sun starts to set, caleb pulls you aside, away from the crowd. his hands find yours, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“you know i meant it, right?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “about wanting you with me. no matter what.” you smile, reaching up to straighten his cap. “i know. and i’ll be right there. every step.” he looks relieved, like he needed to hear you say it. “good. because i’m not going anywhere without you.”

you pull him into a hug, resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. in that moment, with the sun dipping below the horizon and the world full of possibilities, you know that no matter where life takes you both, you’ll always find your way back to each other.

the house is packed with holiday chaos—warm lights, the smell of cinnamon, and way too many people squeezed into the living room. your parents are bustling around, setting up the table, while josephine is in the kitchen, expertly directing traffic like it’s a military operation. she’s wearing one of those old-fashioned holiday aprons, her silver hair pulled back, and she keeps telling everyone to stay out of the kitchen unless they’re helping.

mc and her boyfriend zayne are huddled near the fireplace, mc talking a mile a minute while zayne just nods along, a little overwhelmed but clearly happy to be there. caleb’s next to you, looking a little jittery, his hands stuffed in his pockets. every so often, he glances at josephine, who just gives him a knowing look and a wink. you have no idea what’s going on, but it makes your stomach flip.

finally, dinner’s over, and josephine insists that everyone gather in the living room to open a few presents. she pulls mc onto the couch next to her and practically pushes zayne into the armchair. your parents are still cleaning up, but they’re listening from the dining room, and josephine keeps calling for caleb to get his butt back in here.

caleb takes a deep breath, grabs your hand, and tugs you into the room, leading you to the spot right next to the tree. the glow of the lights makes the whole room feel cozier, and you catch mc giving you a suspicious look like she knows something you don’t.

just as you’re about to sit down, caleb stops you, still holding your hand. he takes a deep breath, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “hey,” he starts, his voice quieter than usual. “i’ve been thinking about how much things have changed since we were kids. and how, no matter what, you’ve always been there. my best friend. my... everything.”

your heart’s racing, and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. caleb swallows hard, glancing at josephine again. she just gives him a tiny nod, smiling knowingly. finally, he pulls something out of his pocket—a small velvet box.

“i know it’s just the beginning for us,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “but... i don’t want to wait anymore. i want you with me for everything. forever.”

he drops to one knee, opening the box to reveal a simple, beautiful ring—just the kind you would have picked out yourself. “will you marry me?”

you barely manage to say yes before he’s up again, sweeping you into his arms while everyone bursts into cheers. mc practically launches herself at you both, squealing and almost knocking caleb off balance. zayne’s clapping and grinning, and your parents are already snapping pictures.

josephine wipes at her eyes, muttering something about how “my boy’s finally grown up,” but there’s pride in her smile. she gives caleb a thumbs-up, clearly approving of his choice.

when caleb finally pulls back to slide the ring onto your finger, his hands are shaking, but his smile is so bright it makes your chest ache. he presses a kiss to your forehead, and the whole room feels like it’s wrapped in warmth and love.

josephine pats mc’s shoulder, beaming. “i knew he’d do it right,” she whispers proudly.

caleb just leans his forehead against yours, still holding your hand like he never wants to let go. “best christmas ever,” he murmurs.

you laugh softly, wiping at the tears you didn’t even realize were there. “and just the beginning.”

mc’s already making plans for the wedding, and zayne’s trying to calm her down, but josephine just shakes her head, chuckling. “let them dream,” she says, squeezing your hand when you sit down beside her. “i knew from the start you’d be part of this family.”

you lean into caleb’s side, fingers still tangled together, and he just smiles, resting his head on yours. and even with the noise and chaos of the holiday, it’s perfect—just you and him, and the promise of forever.

the years at skyhaven fly by faster than you expect. balancing classes, work, and caleb’s DAA training isn’t always easy, but somehow, you both make it work. late-night study sessions turn into lazy mornings, and every time caleb gets leave from training, he spends it wrapped up in you, catching up on everything he’s missed.

graduation season comes around again, but this time it’s different—caleb’s graduating from the DAA pilot program, and you’re about to finish your degree in business and management with honors. the pride you feel for him is overwhelming, especially when he tells you that he’s been chosen as the valedictorian—again. you tease him about being an overachiever, but he just grins, kissing your forehead and telling you it’s all worth it.

the ceremony is held on the skyhaven campus, where the DAA graduates are lined up in their crisp uniforms. you sit near the front, next to josephine, who’s beaming proudly, and mc, who’s wearing a dress she reluctantly agreed to put on. gideon, one of caleb’s friends from the program, sits nearby, giving you a thumbs-up when you spot him.

when caleb’s name is called, the whole room erupts in applause. he walks up to the podium, standing tall and confident in his uniform. he looks over the crowd, his eyes landing on you, and his smile softens. “it’s crazy to think how far we’ve come,” he starts, his voice carrying easily. “most of us showed up here not knowing what we were getting into. we’ve been pushed to our limits—physically, mentally, and emotionally. but we didn’t just make it through… we excelled. and we didn’t do it alone.”

he pauses, glancing at his classmates, then back at you. “personally, i couldn’t have gotten here without the people who’ve always believed in me. my family, my friends... and one person in particular, who’s been by my side through every crazy step, my fiance…-”

your heart swells as he mentions you by status,

“-she’s the one who kept me grounded when things got tough, and she never let me forget why I wanted this in the first place. so... thank you.”

josephine squeezes your hand, sniffling happily, and you feel your own tears well up. caleb finishes his speech with some advice about perseverance and teamwork, and when he steps down, gideon gives him a hard clap on the back, muttering something you can’t hear. caleb just laughs, shaking his head, but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd.

after the ceremony, you rush to find him, and he picks you up in a hug, spinning you around just like the first day of senior year. “you did amazing,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. “you’re amazing,” he counters, kissing you softly. “couldn’t have done it without you.”

you both graduate within weeks of each other—caleb from the DAA program and you with honors from business school. it’s a whirlwind, but you’re more proud of each other than ever. landing a great job right out of school feels like a blessing, and you celebrate with dinner at your favorite little diner, reminiscing about that chaotic first date.

one night, caleb comes home looking more excited than you’ve seen in a while. “got my first assignment,” he says, pulling you into his lap as soon as you sit down. “and... they gave me a sign-on bonus.”

you raise an eyebrow, curious. “what are you planning to do with it?”

he grins, brushing his nose against yours. “fund the wedding. figured we should make it something special.” you feel your heart swell, “you’re serious?”

“of course,” he says, looking at you like you’re the best decision he’s ever made. “i want it to be perfect. for us.”

and so the planning begins. you pick out venues together, pour over guest lists, and spend weekends meeting with caterers and florists. caleb insists on making it something intimate but meaningful, with just close friends and family. gideon becomes his best man without question, and he dives into his duties with enthusiasm, already planning the bachelor party with a little too much energy.

one afternoon, as you’re sorting through color schemes and flower arrangements, caleb leans back on the couch, watching you with a fond smile. “you know,” he says softly, “i always knew it’d be you. since we were kids.” you look up, surprised. “really?”

he shrugs, not embarrassed at all. “yeah. even when we were just friends, something about you made everything feel right. like... if you were there, i could do anything.”

you move closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “i always felt that way too. like you made everything feel possible.”

he presses a kiss to your temple, his hand finding yours. “good. because this… us? it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

you spend the rest of the night curled up together, talking about the future—how you’ll decorate your first place, what you’ll name your first dog, how many kids you might have someday. it’s easy, the way you plan your lives together, because it’s always felt like you were meant to build a future side by side.

as the wedding date gets closer, it hits you just how far you’ve come. from those first nervous hand-holds and school dances to college stresses and career plans, you’ve grown together, made each other better. and now, with a life ahead of you both, you can’t help but feel overwhelmingly lucky.

and through it all, caleb never lets go of your hand—like he’s always known that no matter where life takes you, you’ll be walking that path together.

the day feels surreal—like a dream you’ve been planning for so long that you almost can’t believe it’s finally here. the venue is decorated with soft, warm lights strung through the trees, flowers lining the aisle, and chairs set up in neat rows. your family and friends fill the space, the hum of laughter and conversation mingling with the soft music playing from the speakers.

you’re in the back room with mc, who’s been fluttering around you like a nervous hummingbird, making sure every detail is perfect. she’s your maid of honor, and even though she’s tried to play it cool, you can tell she’s just as emotional as you are.

“stop fidgeting,” she says, fixing your veil for the third time. “you look beautiful. perfect, even.” you smile at her in the mirror, trying to keep your hands from trembling. “i’m just... nervous.” mc snorts, but her eyes are shining. “please. you’ve been waiting for this since high school. you’ve got this.”

your mom slips into the room, eyes a little misty as she takes in how you look. “it’s time,” she says softly, giving you a quick, proud hug. “he’s already out there, looking like he’s about to float off the ground.”

your stomach flips, but in a good way. you take one last breath, smoothing your dress, and follow mc out the door. the music shifts, signaling the start of the ceremony, and you watch as she walks down the aisle first, a little bounce in her step despite trying to look composed.

you take your dad’s arm, and when the doors open, it’s like the whole world narrows down to one single point—caleb, standing at the altar, his eyes locked on you. he’s in a fitted suit, his hair combed just right, but it’s the look on his face that hits you hardest—pure, unfiltered love. gideon stands next to him as the best man, grinning like he’s in on the best secret.

as you walk down the aisle, you catch glimpses of familiar faces—high school friends, college friends, caleb’s teammates from the DAA program. they’re all smiling, some wiping away tears, but it’s caleb who keeps your gaze, like he can’t believe you’re really here.

when you finally reach him, your dad gives your hand to caleb, and you swear his grip tightens just a little, like he’s grounding himself with you.

the officiant starts talking, but you barely hear the words, too caught up in caleb’s steady gaze, his fingers brushing yours like he’s reminding himself that you’re real.

“you both have grown up together,” the officiant says, smiling warmly. “from childhood friends to high school sweethearts to partners in every sense of the word. today, they’re choosing each other…forever.”

caleb’s smile softens, his thumb tracing little circles on the back of your hand. when it’s his turn to speak, his voice is low but steady. “i always knew it’d be you,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. “even when we were kids. even when I didn’t understand what love was, i knew it would always be you. and today...I promise to keep choosing you. every day. for the rest of my life.”

your chest feels tight with happiness, tears welling up despite your best efforts to stay composed. when it’s your turn, you squeeze his hands a little tighter. “I guess i can’t say i never knew what love is, because you were right there the whole time,” you say, your voice wavering just a bit. “you’ve always made me feel safe, cherished, and loved. and today... i promise to stand by you, to support you, and to love you for as long as we both live.”

the officiant smiles, clearly moved. “do you, caleb take..” you stare at him lovingly, ears starting to tune the world out momentarily before you return, “-- to be your wife, to love and cherish through every moment life brings?” – “i do,” caleb says without hesitation, his eyes shining.

the officiant turns to you, and you take calebs appearance in once more, before turning your gaze to the officiant once more, “-- take caleb to be your husband, to love and cherish through every moment life brings?”

you barely whisper, “i do,” but it’s enough. the officiant grins. “by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you husband and wife. caleb, you may kiss your bride.”

caleb doesn’t waste a second, pulling you into his arms and kissing you like he’s never going to stop. the crowd cheers, and you can hear mc practically screaming in excitement. gideon’s clapping loudest of all, and josephine dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, shaking her head like she can’t believe her grandkids are grown up. when you finally pull back, caleb’s still holding you, his forehead pressed to yours. “mrs. xia,” he murmurs, a little smirk playing on his lips.

you laugh, wiping at your face. “still getting used to that.” he kisses you again, softer this time, like he’s got all the time in the world. the rest of the ceremony blurs together—pictures, hugs from family and friends, mc practically dragging you around to take selfies while gideon and caleb joke about the best man speech.

the reception is filled with laughter and toasts, good food and dancing. when caleb pulls you onto the dance floor for your first dance, he holds you close, whispering how beautiful you look, how lucky he feels.

you rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and think that maybe this is what happily ever after really feels like—holding on to the one person who’s always been your everything.

life in skyhaven feels like a new chapter—a fresh start wrapped in soft mornings and quiet nights. the house you and caleb move into is modest but perfect: two stories, a little backyard, and a kitchen with windows that catch the sunrise. it’s the kind of place that feels like it’s waiting to be filled with laughter and memories.

your wedding photos are the first things to go up, framed and carefully placed on the mantle. caleb insists on hanging the one where you’re both mid-laugh, your veil caught in the wind, because “it’s the most us.” gideon helps move in the heavier furniture, making jokes about how he’s the real MVP of the relationship for hauling the couch up the stairs. mc insists on helping too, even though she mostly just bosses everyone around while zayne tries not to laugh.

the first night after everything’s settled, you and caleb just sit on the living room floor, eating takeout from cardboard boxes. he leans back against the wall, legs stretched out, and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

“feels like ours,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. you hum in agreement, closing your eyes and just letting the warmth of his embrace seep in. “it is ours.”

you fall into a rhythm after that. caleb’s schedule at the DAA is demanding, but he’s home most nights, and you make the most of every minute together. weekends are for lazy mornings wrapped up in each other, cooking breakfast while he sneaks kisses between flipping pancakes. sometimes you’ll just walk around skyhaven, exploring little shops and coffee places, your fingers always intertwined like you’re afraid of losing him.

your jobs keep you busy, but somehow you always find time for each other. date nights are a priority—sometimes fancy dinners, sometimes just cuddling on the couch with a movie neither of you really watch. intimacy becomes second nature, a language you both know by heart. some nights, you’ll find yourselves tangled in bedsheets, his laughter low and breathless against your neck, the world slipping away until it’s just the two of you.

one evening, after a long day, you’re curled up together on the couch, caleb tracing lazy patterns on your back. he keeps talking about his last flight, describing the feeling of being above the clouds, and you just listen, letting his voice soothe you.

then, one morning, you notice it—just a small flutter in your stomach, like nerves. at first, you brush it off, but it keeps happening. and then your period’s late. not just by a day, but by a week. it hits you while you’re brushing your teeth, and you freeze, staring at your reflection like it might give you the answer.

caleb’s in the kitchen, making coffee, humming softly. you wander in, your hands shaking just a little.

“hey,” you start, trying to keep your voice steady. “can we... talk?”

he turns, immediately picking up on your tone, concern etching his features. “what’s up?”

you hesitate, your heart pounding. “i think... i might be pregnant.”

for a second, he just stares, the words sinking in. then his eyes widen, and he sets down his mug carefully, like he’s afraid of dropping it. “wait—really?”

you nod, swallowing hard. “i’m not sure, but... i’m late. and i feel... different.”

he crosses the space between you in two steps, cupping your face gently. “are you okay?” you breathe out a laugh, still a little stunned. “yeah. just... surprised.”

his thumb strokes your cheek, his gaze softening. “do you... want to take a test? just to know?”

you nod, and without another word, he grabs his keys. the drive to the pharmacy is quiet but not uncomfortable—just full of unspoken thoughts. when you get home, he insists on waiting outside the bathroom, pacing the hallway like he’s about to take off in one of his planes.

when you finally look at the test, your heart skips a beat. two lines. positive.

you open the door slowly, and caleb almost trips over himself trying to get in. you just hold the test out, and he stares at it, his mouth falling open. “is that...”

you nod, barely holding back tears. “we’re having a baby.”

for a moment, he just stands there, frozen. then he pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. “we’re having a baby,” he repeats, almost like he’s testing out the words. you laugh, half in disbelief. “yeah.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands on your waist, his eyes shining. “i’m gonna be a dad?” you nod, wiping at your cheeks. “and i’m gonna be a mom.”

he kisses you then, deep and slow, like he’s trying to memorize the way this moment feels. when he finally pulls back, he’s grinning, almost giddy. “we’re gonna be parents.”

you both end up on the floor, tangled together, laughing and crying at the same time. later, when you call mc to tell her, she screams so loud you have to hold the phone away from your ear. josephine cries when caleb tells her, saying something about how she knew the two of you would make her a great-grandma someday.

when you call your parents, your mom can barely contain her excitement. “a baby? i knew it! i knew you two would be giving me grandkids sooner rather than later!” your dad tries to play it cool, but you can hear the pride in his voice when he says, “i’m gonna teach that kid how to play ball. boy or girl doesn’t matter. they’re gonna know how to shoot.”

that night, caleb holds you close, his hand resting protectively over your stomach. “we’re gonna be good at this,” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple. you smile, pressing closer. “because we’re in this together.”

and as the night settles around you, you know that no matter what, this new adventure—just like every one before it—will be something you face hand in hand.

life had been good—better than good, really. mornings wrapped up in caleb’s arms, evenings spent planning the nursery, his hands always finding your stomach like he can’t help but remind himself that your baby is real, growing, safe. it’s become your favorite part of the day—feeling his palm resting there, his eyes soft with wonder.

but, fate? well.. she’s a cruel mistress.

you’ve been thinking about his upcoming mission, about how he’ll be gone for a few weeks and how much you’ll miss him. it’s why you decided to get him something special—a little piece of you that he can take with him. when you saw the small, simple necklace in the window—a silver apple pendant—you knew it was perfect. something to remind him of your promise to always be there, no matter where he flies.

you’re almost three months along now. your belly isn’t that noticeable yet, but you’ve felt the changes—the tenderness, the exhaustion, the way your body is quietly transforming. caleb’s been nothing but attentive, more protective than ever, always making sure you’re eating enough, getting enough sleep.

you decided to pick up the necklace on your way home from the market, the little shop tucked into a quiet part of town. the shopkeeper remembers you from the other day, already has the necklace wrapped up in a small velvet pouch. you’re about to thank her when the ground trembles—a low, guttural rumble that makes the windows shake.

your heart stutters. you know that sound. wanderers.

the shopkeeper’s eyes go wide, and someone outside screams. you’re frozen for a second, fear coursing through you, but instinct takes over. you clutch the necklace in your hand, slipping it into your pocket as you move toward the back exit.

you barely make it two steps when the world erupts. the noise is deafening—concrete splitting, glass shattering. you turn just in time to see the wall opposite you cave in, like it’s being hit from the outside. you don’t have time to react, to think, to do anything but brace yourself as the building shudders, the ceiling groaning under the pressure.

the last thing you see is the wall hurtling toward you, a blur of dust and debris, and then—

nothing…..

caleb’s in the middle of a debriefing when his phone buzzes, but he ignores it at first. it’s only when gideon comes running into the room, pale and frantic, that he realizes something’s wrong.

“caleb—there’s been an attack. downtown. a wanderer came through.”

caleb’s stomach plummets. he barely hears the rest—something about the market, about people being pulled from the rubble. all he knows is that you’d mentioned stopping by that area, something about a gift for him. his hands are shaking as he pushes past gideon, sprinting out to the tarmac, where his car is parked.

he drives like he’s in one of his training sims—reckless, fast, threading through traffic with single-minded focus. when he reaches the scene, it’s chaos—firefighters, medics, people crying and yelling, dust thick in the air.

he spots the wreckage of the little shop, the wall collapsed outward into the street, and he can’t breathe. his vision blurs, his pulse thundering in his ears.

“no... no, no, no,” he whispers, shoving his way through the crowd.

someone tries to stop him—a firefighter, shouting something about it not being safe—but caleb’s evol pulses to life, the gravity around him bending and warping. rubble that would have been immovable suddenly shifts, lifting into the air as if weightless, his desperation fueling the power coursing through him.

he sees it then—a hand sticking out from under a chunk of concrete, your ring glinting in the dim light. caleb’s knees hit the pavement, his entire world narrowing down to that single point.

“no!” his voice cracks as he pulls at the rubble, his evol pushing the debris aside like it’s made of paper. his hands shake, and he can’t stop the sob that tears from his throat as he drags pieces away, gravity warping around him like a storm, stones floating briefly before crashing down around him.

gideon catches up, grabbing caleb’s shoulders, but caleb shrugs him off, barely hearing him. “it’s her—it’s her, i know it,” he chokes out, pulling one last piece of the wall away with a forceful wave of his hand.

then he sees you, still and pale, dust settling around you. your hair is matted with blood, your face smeared with dirt, but it’s undeniably you. caleb drops to his knees beside you, hands trembling as he cups your face.

“baby... no, no, please,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “wake up. you have to—please.”

he pulls you into his lap, rocking back and forth, his other hand on your pregnant stomach, oblivious to the world around him. gravity ripples in waves, small stones lifting and falling as his control frays. gideon kneels beside him, not saying anything, just resting a hand on caleb’s back.

a medic moves closer, checking for a pulse, but the shake of her head is final. caleb’s body collapses in on itself, his hold on gravity snapping—debris crashes back to the ground with a violent thud, and the wind around them seems to bend and twist, matching his anguish.

he clutches the small velvet pouch from your pocket, the apple necklace spilling into his palm. he just holds it, pressing it against his chest as sobs wrack his body.

“we were gonna be a family,” he whispers, his tears wetting your hair. “i was gonna... protect you. keep you safe. i promised.”

gideon’s voice is soft, choked. “caleb...”

but caleb doesn’t move, doesn’t let go. he just keeps repeating your name, like if he says it enough times, you’ll come back. his whole world is gone—shattered in an instant—and he can’t do anything but hold you, his fingers tangled with yours, begging the universe to give you back.

you’re in the kitchen, sunlight spilling through the windows, the smell of breakfast in the air. caleb’s at the stove, flipping pancakes with that practiced ease, humming softly under his breath. the kitchen is full of noise—laughter, tiny feet thumping against the floor, and the baby’s high-pitched babble from the high chair.

mc is leaning against the counter, holding a cup of coffee, grinning at you. “you guys are disgusting,” she teases, watching caleb sneak a kiss before you take the next plate of pancakes.

“jealous?” caleb fires back, smirking as he sets another pancake on the growing stack.

a little girl runs by—tangled hair and bright eyes—chasing after a boy who’s wielding a wooden spoon like a sword. you can’t help but laugh, scooping the toddler out of the high chair and pressing a kiss to his soft cheek.

caleb wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “think we might have our hands full,” he murmurs, but his voice is full of fondness.

“definitely,” you agree, leaning back against him.

it’s perfect. the house is full, messy and loud and alive. you feel that familiar warmth in your chest, the kind that only comes from knowing this is your family, your life.

then there’s a flicker—a harsh crack that splits the air. you blink, and suddenly the house fades away, slipping from your grasp like sand through your fingers.

the light’s gone, replaced by gray smoke and the distant sound of sirens. your head feels heavy, like you’ve been asleep too long, but when you open your eyes, you’re... standing.

standing in the street, watching a crowd gather. your eyes find the wreckage of the little shop, the wall broken and crumbling. there’s someone on the ground, wrapped in a familiar coat, dust and blood smeared across their face.

you move closer, and that’s when you see him—caleb, hunched over, his hands cradling a still form. his shoulders shake, and his face is buried in your hair, whispering something over and over.

you freeze, heart pounding. “caleb?” you call, stepping forward. “caleb, I’m right here—”

he doesn’t look up. you reach out, but your hand passes through his shoulder like air. panic rises, cold and sharp. you look at his hands, at the way he’s holding... you. your body.

your legs feel weak. “no,” you whisper. “no, no….this can’t be—”

caleb’s sobbing, his forehead pressed to your temple. you can hear him whispering, “please, please come back, baby, please.”

you sink to your knees, your hands shaking. “caleb... i’m here. please, look at me.”

nothing. he doesn’t move, doesn’t hear you. the realization hits hard, a crushing weight. you’re dead. gone. and he’s still here, breaking apart right in front of you, and you can’t do anything to reach him.

your throat tightens, and for a moment you just watch him—watch the way he holds you like he’s afraid to let go, the way his hands are stained with your blood. you start to cry, not from pain or fear, but from the sheer helplessness of it all.

“caleb...” you choke out, even though you know he can’t hear. “i’m sorry...”

gideon kneels beside him, trying to get him to move, but caleb just shakes his head, refusing to let go.

“i was supposed to protect her,” he whispers, his voice shattered. “i promised...”

you curl in on yourself, pressing your hands to your mouth to keep from screaming. the future you’d seen—the one with your big, happy family, caleb teaching your daughter to ride a bike, you chasing after the baby—it’s gone. erased. and you can’t even hold him, can’t even tell him you love him one more time.

the sirens grow louder, and medics move closer, but caleb still won’t let go. you reach out one more time, your fingers brushing through his hair, and even though he doesn’t react, you whisper, “i love you... i’ll always love you.”

and in the space between your heartbeat and his sobs, you feel it—the ache of everything you’ve lost, and the terrible, undeniable truth that you’ll never have that future together.

time doesn’t stop. even though it feels like it should, even though the world should have shattered along with your heartbeat, it keeps going. days blur into weeks, then months, and you watch from above, your soul aching with the weight of it all.

it’s quiet where you are—soft, light, like floating on a warm breeze. you’re not bound to one place, but you find yourself lingering around the people you love, watching them navigate a life that now feels hollow without you.

caleb doesn’t leave skyhaven. he stays in the house you shared, even though gideon offers to help him move somewhere new. he doesn’t have the heart to pack up your things—your clothes still hang in the closet, your shoes lined up by the door. sometimes, when the silence gets too heavy, he pulls out your favorite sweater and wraps it around himself, pretending for just a moment that you’re still there.

he goes back to work sooner than anyone expected—partly because he doesn’t know what else to do, and partly because he needs the distraction. flying has always been his escape, and now, more than ever, he needs the sky. you watch him train, pushing himself harder than before, his focus almost mechanical. gideon stays close, keeping an eye on him, worried that one day he might push too far and not come back.

caleb’s dedication doesn’t go unnoticed. after a few years, he earns a promotion—colonel in the farspace fleet. it’s a title that comes with respect, with responsibility. you watch him receive his new uniform, his face stoic and composed, but later that night, when he’s alone on the porch, he pulls the apple necklace from under his shirt, running his thumb over the pendant.

“made it, baby,” he whispers to the sky. “like i promised.”

you’re there, lingering at his side, wishing you could tell him how proud you are.

mc grows stronger, too. she joins the deepspace hunters—a program designed to track and eliminate wanderers before they reach populated areas. she trains relentlessly, pouring all her anger and grief into every mission. you see her determination—the way she pushes herself to be faster, smarter, like she’s trying to protect everyone the way she couldn’t protect you.

one evening, after a long mission, mc sits with caleb at the diner, her hand wrapped around a cup of coffee. they’re both quiet, the space between them heavy with memories.

“sometimes,” mc says, barely above a whisper, “i still hear her laugh. like... when it’s too quiet, i just... hear it. like she’s right there.”

caleb doesn’t respond at first, just stares at his own cup. “me too,” he finally admits. “sometimes i dream about her. about... the life we were supposed to have.”

mc wipes at her eyes, trying to be subtle, and zayne just places a hand on her back, comforting.

they don’t say much more, but it’s enough to know that they’re still carrying you with them, even after all this time.

your parents never really stop grieving, but they find ways to keep going. your mom keeps your favorite plants alive, watering them every morning, talking to them like you used to. your dad starts fixing up old furniture—something to keep his hands busy, something to distract him from the quiet. they visit caleb often, bringing him food and making sure he’s taking care of himself. sometimes they stay for hours, just talking about anything and everything, never mentioning the loss that hangs heavy over them all.

years pass. caleb remains dedicated to his position, rising in the ranks, but he never settles. he’s still the one volunteering for the hardest missions, still the one pushing himself beyond his limits. gideon becomes his right-hand man, and together they manage their unit with precision and skill.

mc and zayne get married—quietly, just a few friends and family. caleb walks her down the aisle, and you’re there too, watching from the corner of the little chapel. she laughs when she stumbles over her vows, and zayne just squeezes her hands, telling her to take her time. for a moment, she looks over her shoulder, like she’s expecting to see you behind her as her maid of honor, but when she doesn’t, she just takes a breath and finishes her words.

caleb doesn’t date. people talk about it sometimes—how he’s still young, still handsome, still kind. but he never shows interest, always just shakes his head when someone hints at setting him up. even though he keeps moving forward, his heart is still with you.

sometimes, when he’s alone, he talks to the garden where your memorial is—just quiet conversations about his day, about the missions, about how he’s still trying to do right by you.

you watch it all, your presence like a soft breeze through the leaves. you want to tell him that you’re okay, that you’re at peace, but you’re not sure if he’d ever really believe it.

life keeps going, and you see the world changing around him. mc and zayne have their first child—a boy, with zayne’s bright smile and mc’s fierce spirit and caleb practically becomes the boy’s godfather..

sometimes, when he thinks no one’s looking, caleb pulls out the necklace, tracing the apple with his thumb.

“i kept my promise,” he whispers, his eyes on the sky. “i’m still here. still fighting. just... wish you were here to see it.”

and every night, you sit by his side, letting your presence linger like the soft glow of the stars, hoping he knows that even though your paths diverged, your love never really faded.

time moves differently when you’re not part of it anymore. you watch from your place in the sky as years stretch on, seasons passing like waves. life doesn’t stop—not for grief, not for joy. it just keeps going, a slow, steady rhythm that you can’t touch but can only witness.

caleb settles into his role at the farspace fleet, his leadership becoming almost legendary among the newer pilots. they look up to him—not just for his skills, but for his dedication and the way he carries himself. he’s firm but fair, always encouraging the younger ones to push past their limits but reminding them to come back safe.

mc and zayne’s family grows. after lyra, they have two more kids—a girl named mae and a boy named kieran. caleb is at every birthday, every family barbecue, every soccer game. he shows them how to make paper airplanes, how to tie knots, and how to tell the difference between constellations.

you watch the celebrations—birthdays with homemade cakes, christmases with too many presents, thanksgiving dinners where mc accidentally burns the rolls but insists they’re “just crispy.” caleb always laughs, always reassures her that it’s perfect.

but time doesn’t just bring joy. it brings loss, too.

you see the slow fading of josephine—how her hands get weaker, how her laughter becomes softer. caleb takes care of her, visiting almost daily, making sure she’s comfortable. the kids love visiting her house, even when she’s too tired to get up from her favorite chair. one afternoon, when the sun is just right, josephine passes quietly, holding caleb’s hand.

he doesn’t cry at first, just presses a kiss to her forehead and whispers, “i’ll take care of mc. i promise.”

later that night, he sits on the porch, clutching the apple necklace, his shoulders hunched. gideon sits beside him, just as old now, both of them more gray than not, and caleb finally lets the tears come.

a few years later, it’s your parents’ turn. your dad goes first, his health fading bit by bit. your mom holds his hand until the very end, and when he finally slips away, she just leans her head on his shoulder and whispers, “i’ll see you soon.”

it’s not long after that your mom follows. caleb is there for every step, helping with arrangements, making sure they’re laid to rest beside each other. mc clings to him during the funeral, her grief heavy and raw. caleb doesn’t say much—just stands beside the gravestones, his hand on your dad’s old walking stick.

“i promised her i’d take care of you,” he whispers. “and i will. i always will.”

you’re there, too—watching, feeling the ache but knowing that they’re together now, just like they wanted. and even though caleb doesn’t see you, you press your hand to his shoulder, wishing he could feel it.

years go by. lyra, mae, and kieran grow up—awkward, gangly teenagers with loud voices and big dreams. lyra joins the academy, wanting to be a pilot just like her uncle. mae gets into music, her room filled with guitars and song lyrics. kieran plays basketball, towering over his sisters by the time he’s fifteen.

caleb never misses a game, never misses a chance to cheer them on, even when his knees start to ache and his hair goes more silver than black. gideon retires first, moving out to a small cabin by the lake, but caleb keeps going a little longer, determined to see lyra through her first year in the fleet.

the day he announces his retirement, the entire fleet throws a party. lyra’s there in her new uniform, beaming with pride as she hands him a handmade card signed by half the pilots. caleb just shakes his head, smiling but looking a little overwhelmed.

that night, back on the porch, he sighs as he lowers himself into the old rocking chair, his hands shaking just a little. he takes out the apple necklace, holding it like a lifeline.

“finally did it, baby,” he murmurs. “retired. gideon says it’s about time. i guess... i guess he’s right. i’m getting too old for this.”

you stand beside him, feeling the bittersweet pull in your heart. he looks up at the stars, his face lined but still so familiar, and you can’t help the tears that fill your eyes. he’s older now—his joints creak when he moves, his steps slower, but his eyes are still warm, still full of love.

“you’d laugh if you saw me now,” he says softly, his voice rough. “barely got the energy to mow the lawn. and the kids—they’re all grown up. lyra’s gonna be a pilot. just like i was.”

you kneel beside him, brushing your fingers through the air near his hand, wishing you could hold it.

“you’d be proud of them,” he continues, his smile tinged with sadness. “mc’s got her own team now. zayne’s still patching people up. and me... well, i’m just here. still holding on.”

you can’t help but cry, but it’s not all sadness. it’s joy, too—a deep, aching joy that you still get to see him live. you’re grateful to witness every year, to see the way he keeps moving forward, even when it hurts.

as the stars come out, he leans back, closing his eyes. “sometimes, i still feel you,” he whispers. “like you’re just... right there. and i like to think... maybe someday...”

he doesn’t finish, just holds the necklace a little tighter.

you sit beside him, wiping your own tears, and as the night deepens, you feel something peaceful settle around you. you’re still here, still with him, and he never forgot—not for one second.

you’re grateful, even as your heart breaks, because you know that love like yours doesn’t just end. it lingers, just like the stars, always there even when the world moves on.

as the years keep moving, his body becomes less forgiving. his joints ache more in the mornings, his steps a little slower. his hair is fully silver now, cropped short, and his hands tremble sometimes when he’s holding a cup of coffee. the farspace fleet is in his past now—he’s officially retired, though his mind still drifts to the sky on quiet evenings.

he stays in the house you shared, keeping the garden tended, though it’s more flowers now than vegetables. he spends a lot of time on the porch, rocking in the old chair, looking out at the road as if expecting someone to come walking up any minute. sometimes he talks to the wind, sharing stories about his day, about the kids, about how much he still misses you.

one afternoon, he pulls out the old wooden box from the closet—the one with important papers, documents, things he’s tucked away for safekeeping. he sits at the kitchen table, his reading glasses perched on his nose, and starts sorting through it.

he’s never been one to dwell too much on the end, but lately, he’s been feeling it more—the tiredness settling into his bones, the way his thoughts sometimes feel heavy and slow. it doesn’t scare him, really. it’s more of a quiet acceptance, like he’s spent so long carrying so much that it’s finally time to put it down.

he starts drafting his will, his handwriting a bit shaky but still careful. he writes about the house—how he wants it to go to mc and zayne, so the kids can always come back. he writes about his old flight journals, leaving them to lyra, knowing she’ll appreciate the stories and the notes about his missions.

when it comes to your things—your clothes, your books, the trinkets you collected—he hesitates. it’s been so long, but he never could bring himself to pack them away. instead, he writes a small note, saying they should go to mc, since she always appreciated your sense of style and loved the stories behind your knick-knacks.

he pauses, rubbing at his eyes, then pulls out the little apple necklace from his shirt. it’s worn, the shine faded, but it’s still intact, still his most cherished possession. he writes that it should go to lyra, since she always loved hearing about how you gave it to him for good luck.

he sits back, letting out a slow breath. it feels strange to put it all on paper—like acknowledging that his time is winding down. he doesn’t feel sad, just... tired. like he’s been running for so long and finally gets to rest.

mc visits later that evening, bringing dinner and the grandkids. lyra’s in her pilot uniform, looking proud and grown-up, and caleb can’t help but ruffle her hair like she’s still a kid. mae shows off the new song she’s been working on, and kieran talks about his basketball game, eager to share every detail.

caleb just sits back, soaking it in, his heart full. when the kids go to bed, mc sits with him on the porch, noticing the papers stacked neatly on the table.

“writing stuff down?” she asks softly.

he nods, not looking at her. “just... getting things in order. figured it was time.”

mc doesn’t say anything for a while, just leans her head against his shoulder. “you’ve done good, caleb. you really have.”

he swallows hard, his fingers brushing over the necklace. “i just... don’t want to leave anything undone. you know? i want them to know how much they meant to me. how much she meant to me.”

mc’s hand finds his, squeezing gently. “they know. she knows.”

they sit in comfortable silence, the sky turning shades of orange and pink. when it gets late, mc kisses his cheek, whispering, “i’ll see you tomorrow,” and heads back inside to check on the kids, “have a good night, pipsqueak.” he says.

caleb stays on the porch, watching the stars come out. he closes his eyes, leaning back in the rocking chair, and thinks about all the years that have passed—all the moments that still make him smile.

you’re there, as always, sitting beside him, even if he can’t see you. your heart aches, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming love that never faded. you reach out, your presence soft as a breeze, and watch as caleb leans his head back, whispering your name into the night air.

“soon,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but certain. “i’ll see you soon.”

and from where you are, you feel both grateful and heartbroken, knowing that he’s lived a full life, but that it’s winding down. you just hope that when the time comes, you’ll be the one to meet him at the end, ready to hold him the way you couldn’t when you left.

he knows it’s time.

it’s not a feeling of fear or regret—just a soft certainty, like a candle finally flickering out. he’s known for a while now—how his body has slowed down, how his breaths come a little more labored, how his hands shake even when he’s just holding a cup of tea.

the house is quiet. mc visited earlier, bringing food and checking in, but caleb insisted he was fine, that he just needed some rest. she left reluctantly, promising to call in the morning.

when the door closes, caleb takes a long breath, steadying himself. he gets up from his rocking chair, moving slower than he used to, but with purpose. his joints creak, and he grips the banister as he makes his way to the bedroom.

once inside, he moves to the closet, reaching up to the high shelf where a small, worn box sits. it’s dusty from years of being tucked away, but it’s still just as he left it. he carries it carefully to the bed, sitting on the edge as he pries the lid open.

inside are the remnants of a life lived—little pieces of his heart that he’s kept safe for all these years.

he takes out the first photo—one from your first dance, when you both were just kids, his tie crooked and your dress a little wrinkled from running around beforehand. he laughs softly, tracing the edges, remembering how you made him promise to take you to every dance after that.

the next photo is from your first date—the one where everything went wrong and you couldn’t stop laughing. you’re both sitting in the diner booth, your cheeks flushed from trying to contain your giggles, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world.

he pulls out a stack of love letters next, the paper soft and worn from being read over and over. some of them are his, scribbled notes he left you on the kitchen counter or slipped into your coat pocket before he left for training. others are yours—neat handwriting, talking about how proud you were of him, how you couldn’t wait for him to come home.

there’s a little carved wooden heart you made him once—a joke about how he “stole yours” when you were just teenagers. he remembers teasing you about how uneven the edges were, but you just shrugged and said it made it unique—just like him.

caleb scatters the photos and letters across the bed, letting them fan out like a mosaic of your life together. he picks up the necklace from around his neck—the little silver apple—and sets it gently among the photos.

his hands are trembling as he lays back against the pillows, his breaths growing softer, slower. he closes his eyes, and a wave of calm washes over him, like a weight finally lifting from his shoulders.

he lets out a slow, deep breath, his fingers still resting on the old, worn photos. his eyes flutter closed, his chest rises and falls one last time, and then stillness settles over the room.

the house is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. the photos lay scattered on the bed, each one a snapshot of a life filled with love, loss, and the ache of remembering. caleb’s hand rests over the necklace, his face peaceful, as if he’s simply fallen asleep, finally at rest after a lifetime of carrying so much.

when he opens his eyes again, he’s standing on a path bathed in golden light, the sky impossibly blue, the air fragrant with wildflowers. he feels different—his movements are steady, his back straight, but when he looks down, he sees his hands—still wrinkled and worn, aged by the years.

he follows the path, his footsteps light, and as he gets closer to the towering gates ahead, he sees someone standing just beyond them. his heart lurches, recognition hitting him all at once.

it’s you.

you’re standing there, dressed in white, your hair flowing like it did when you were young, your smile soft and bright. you haven’t aged a day—still the same as when you left, still beautiful, still his. and he looks down, your baby bump. caleb stops, his breath catching, and tears fill his eyes before he can stop them. he doesn’t even think to wipe them away—just stands there, his heart aching with joy and disbelief.

you walk forward, your arms outstretched, your own tears glistening like tiny stars.

“i’ve been waiting for you, my love,” you say softly, your voice trembling.

caleb lets out a shaky laugh, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “sorry for taking so long,” he whispers, his voice thick. you just shake your head, stepping closer, your hands cupping his face. he leans into your touch, his hands settling on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again.

then he pulls back just enough to look at you properly, his mouth twitching in a crooked smile. “you... you’re still young,” he says, bewildered. “and i’m... well, i’m grandpa age.”

you laugh, your hand brushing through his silvery hair. “you are,” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes. “look at you—old man, gray hair... you could pass for josephine’s brother.”

he huffs, still a little self-conscious. “i guess i figured... i’d look like i used to. you know... not like this.”

you cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the lines at the corner of his mouth. “as long as you’re my caleb, i don’t care.” he can’t help but laugh, the sound soft and full of wonder. “you’re sure you don’t mind having an old man hanging around?”

you just shake your head, pulling him closer. “ you’re my caleb. always. no matter how many years pass. i love you.”

his lips find yours, and it’s soft and familiar, like no time has passed at all. he holds you close, his hands resting on your waist, and when he pulls back, his eyes are clear, his heart full.

“i missed you,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

“i know,” you say, your forehead resting against his. “but you lived. you did everything you promised. and now... we’ve got forever.”

caleb just smiles, a little shy, a little relieved. “can’t believe i get to be with you again.”

you take his hand, squeezing it tight. “you’re home.”

and as you guide him through the gates, your hands intertwined, he knows that this is it—where he was always meant to end up. with you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @rcvcgers, @miffysoo, @blessdunrest

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND

PAIRING: THOMAS HEWITT X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 5.8K

SUMMARY | This new man, the tall man with the icy somber eyes and expressionless mask, appeared above you, haloed in sunlight like an angel. By all accounts, he was a far more terrifying man than John or Mike or David, but you don’t see evil when you look at him, when his eyes meet yours for a brief second before looking away. No, not evil, but a familiar reflection, an unkind life that led to unkind circumstances and unkind decisions. You know the look well, it’s the same one you see in the mirror.

WARNINGS | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT - this is slasher fan fiction with canon typical violence, mentions of blood, death, cannibalism and gore. if slasher fiction is not your cup of tea, please keep scrolling.

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT: vaginal fingering, male masturbation, oral sex - f receiving, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, creampie, praise kink

OTHER WARNINGS: no use of y/n, dual pov, able bodied reader, reader being picked up/carried, virgin thomas hewitt, no skin masks, monsters in love. if i’ve missed any tags, please kindly let me know.

Thomas hears a scream while he’s out in the barn. It cuts off so quickly he damn near thinks he imagined it but if he holds perfectly still and listens, listens, listens, there are noises that don’t belong. A grunt, a smack, a mumbled curse. Knife in hand, he ventures out in search of the source. 

Out on the road there’s a car, hood up and smoke billowing from the engine. A man has a woman pressed to the driver’s side door, forearm tight against her throat and a knife poised in front of her face. Red creeps into Thomas’ vision and his fingers begin to ache around the hilt of his own knife but just as he steps forward, something amazing happens.

The woman spits at the man’s face and in that brief moment of surprise, she brings her hands up and shoves the man back. He stumbles, falling to ground. The knife falls and she goes after it, lunging across the dirt and rocks. The man wraps a hand around her ankle, tugging her down and dragging her back as she screams, fingers digging into the dirt. She kicks, once, twice, the third time finally connecting with a painful crack to the man’s shin and sending him down to the ground again. She crawls away, grabbing the knife and scrambling to her feet. Thomas can see her chest heave with ragged breaths, skin glistening with sweat in the Texas heat. 

He’s not sure he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

She approaches the man, the knife brandished in front of her. The man rolls onto his back, holds his hands up. A surrender. The woman doesn’t care. Her boot slams into his skull, a shout echoing in the vast emptiness of the road and fields. Thomas feels himself grow hard, pants tightening around his cock. He reaches down, adjusting himself.

The man is on his hands and knees now. Blood streaks his face and drips to the dirt, baptizing the land in violence. She kicks him between the shoulder blades, knocking him flat on his stomach, and stands over him with a leg on either side of his body. The breath catches in Thomas’ throat as she reaches down and tangles her fingers in the man’s hair, lifting his head. The man stares directly at Thomas and his lips move, a cry for help, but he doesn’t hear it. No, not when all his focus is on the way the woman leans close and drags the blade across the man’s neck and the skin splits, muscles and tendons ripping with the force of it and red, red, red spilling free. 

The man’s gaze grows empty and the woman loosens her grip, his head dropping to the ground. She drops to her knees, slams the knife into the man’s back over and over and over, roaring fiercely as she does. She’s covered in the red, red, red, clothes soaked through with it, skin stained and sticky. When she’s finished, she collapses on the ground beside the man, on her back, basking in the sun.

It’s then that Thomas approaches, his shadow falling over her, broad body blocking the sun. She blinks at him but doesn’t scream. Doesn’t run. 

Thomas holds a hand out to her.

To his surprise, she takes it.

Your mind is somewhere in the clouds as you walk beside the lumbering giant that carries John or Mike or David over his shoulder like he weighs nothing, is nothing. The body bounces with each step and you find it almost comical, lips twitching as you fight a smile. Something simmers in your veins, more potent than the adrenaline of the fight or the relief that you won another day against life’s shitty hand. 

This new man, the tall man with the icy somber eyes and expressionless mask, appeared above you, haloed in sunlight like an angel. By all accounts, he was a far more terrifying man than John or Mike or David, but you don’t see evil when you look at him, when his eyes meet yours for a brief second before looking away. No, not evil, but a familiar reflection, an unkind life that led to unkind circumstances and unkind decisions. You know the look well, it’s the same one you see in the mirror.

A house appears on the horizon, a two story Victorian era farmhouse that must have been impressive once before falling into a state of disrepair. There’s a woman on the porch, arms crossed over her chest and a stern look on her face as she watches the two (or is it technically three?) of you approach. 

“Bring ‘im downstairs. I’ll tend to the girl,” she says. The man looks at you, hesitating to follow the command. You give him a nod, the slight dip of your chin enough for his shoulders to relax. His heavy footsteps rattle the dilapidated porch as he disappears inside the house.

The woman leads you to the kitchen and pulls a chair out from the rough wood table for you to take a seat. You watch as she wets a cloth before returning to your side. Cool water hits the hot skin of your face and the rough fabric drags away the dried blood. Her touch is surprisingly gentle.

“You do all that to the fella my boy was carryin’?” She asks.

“Yes,” you reply, voice cracking on the single word that claws at your vocal cords. 

“‘Atta girl.” She smiles. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you.”

She sets a glass on the table and you don’t hesitate to reach for it, chugging down the cold water so quickly it makes your stomach turn. She wordlessly refills it for you, twice, before murmuring a gentle, “That’s enough now, you’ll turn your stomach sour if you keep it up.”

“What’s with this fuckin’ car out on the road?” A voice yells from outside the house. Through the window you catch a glimpse of a man in a Sherriff’s uniform, shotgun held loosely in his hand as he approaches the house. The woman stands, wiping her hands on her apron.

“You don’t say nothin’, alright? You let me handle Charlie,” she commands. You nod.

The man appears in the doorway, eyes immediately landing on you. His leery gaze traces you from head to toe and you fight back the shiver that threatens to race down your spine. Your gaze drops to the floor as he addresses the woman.

“What’s with the whore?” He spits. 

“She’s a guest.”

“A guest? This a bed ‘n breakfast all of a sudden?”

“Thomas brought her up here.” As if summoned by his name, the monster returns. He looms behind the other man, silent. There’s a bucket in his hand that he drops to the floor with a loud clang that makes you jump. The woman pats your shoulder. 

“Tommy boy is takin’ in strays now, huh? What’s next, he’ll find himself some dumpster baby and finish buildin’ a whole happy family?”

The monster, Thomas, grows tense. His shoulders lift and the muscles of his arms flex, his eyes narrowed on the man who’s giving him a shit-eating smile. 

“Tommy, honey, why don’t you bring your guest to one of the rooms upstairs?” The woman suggests. Thomas shoves past Charlie and into the kitchen and stands wordlessly by your side. She nudges your shoulder and you stand, following him as he stomps through the second door to the kitchen. 

Shouting starts up as you leave, the words muffled when the door swings shut behind you. Thomas leads you upstairs to the second floor, where the hallway dark and a thick layer of dust coats anything it can reach. With a grunt he opens a door at the end of the hall and stands aside to allow you through the doorway. 

The room is bare save for a small but tidy bed and dresser. Despite the dust in the hall, the room itself is surprisingly clean. You sit on the bed, testing the squeaky springs with your weight. You look up at the man.

“Your name is Thomas?” You ask. He nods, once, a sharp dip of his chin that has his dirty hair falling into his face. You tell him your name and his blue eyes blink back at you, the only acknowledgment you’ll get.

He lingers for a moment, eyes searching. It doesn’t feel gross, not like when Charlie leered at you downstairs. No, it’s more like he’s committing you to memory. You realize, then, that he’s not looking at you like a predator looks at prey.

He’s looking at you like you’re a prize.

Thomas slams the cleaver down, the thud of it rhythmic, soothing. His thoughts keep straying to ones of you, upstairs in the kitchen with his mama. You’ve been here for two days now and he’s having a hard time concentrating on his chores knowing that you’re in the house, knowing that you’ve stuck around for God only knows what reason. It makes him antsy, suspicious. 

The door to the basement opens and he expects to hear Charlie’s boots stomping down the stairs but he’s surprised when you appear on the last step in an ill fitting dress that mama must have scrounged up for you. Thomas stands perfectly still as you look around the room. 

“This is what you do all day?” You ask. He nods. “That must be hard work.” Mama shouts your name from upstairs, making you jump. You give him a sheepish look. “I’m supposed to come tell you dinner’s ready.”

Thomas grunts, setting down the cleaver and wiping his hands on his apron. He washes up in the bloodstained sink, scrubbing at his fingers as best he can. You’re still on the stairs when he finishes, watching him. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the way you don’t look away, ashamed of your staring. 

You turn to climb the steps and he follows, a step below you. Your hips sway in front of him and he has visions of grabbing you by the hips, pulling you against his body so tightly you can’t leave, can’t leave, can’t leave. 

Mama is sitting at the table when you both emerge from the darkness, bowls of stew set out for each of you. Thomas sits down to mama’s left and you to her right, across the table from him. The two of you chat about the chores she’s assigned you and are they too much, honey? No, you tell her, you’re happy to help. Mama smiles at you and he knows what she’s thinking, that you’re sent from God himself, the perfect addition to the family. The daughter she never got to have, only the fucked up sons she was cursed and forsaken with. 

Thomas feels something prod his knee beneath the table and he freezes. All of your attention is still focused on mama, your head propped in your hand and your elbow on the table, relaxed as can be. He thinks maybe he just imagined it but he feels it again and this time he jumps, rattling the dishes on the table and sloshing stew from its bowls.

“Thomas! What’s the matter with you?” Mama asks, patting at her dress with a napkin. “You just got us all wet.”

“Yeah, Thomas,” you chime in. “Got me all wet and messy.”

By the look on your face, he knows that you’re not talking about the soup. He’s got some dirty magazines he snuck into the house over the years, women with their legs spread and their hands tied, glistening pussies on full display or the one videotape that Charlie got him, where the woman is split open on a man’s cock, begging for more as the lewd, slick sounds of sex grow louder and louder. The thought of you like that, maybe even because of him, makes his cheeks burn. He grunts, an apology, and his mama waves a hand at you both.

“You better get changed outta that dress before it stains. Can’t be lettin’ one go to waste so quick,” she tells you. You nod, standing from the table and heading for the door. You pause, looking over your shoulder at him and give him a wink. Mama clears her throat, a stern expression on her face as she looks at him.

“And you, boy. Go get yourself cleaned up and brush your damn hair for once. I raised you better than that.”

She didn’t, not really, but he listens to her anyway, trudging back down to the basement to hose himself off and change his clothes. As he cleans up, he thinks about you, because when hasn’t he been since you appeared? His cock hardens and he tries to ignore it, tries to think of the Bible lessons mama loved to teach and how it’s a sin to touch himself but maybe God will forgive him, just this once? 

He wraps a hand around his thick length and squeezes, almost punishing himself. His head drops back and he stares at the ceiling, eyes wide as he tugs and pulls at his cock, slow at first then fast, fast, fast, fist flying with a tight grip until stars burst in his vision and warm come dribbles over his hand. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, blinking away the dark spots as his high fizzles out.

Thomas dries himself and gets dressed before lying down on the mattress in the corner to toss and turn until the sun rises.

The next morning, Thomas doesn’t realize that you haven’t come down from your room until well into the afternoon. Mama’s gone to town and Charlie is off playing Sheriff so it’s just the two of you in the house. He debates whether he should check on you or leave you alone but ultimately the worry that something might be wrong pulls him upstairs and finds him knocking on your door, a quick tap of his knuckles to the wood.There’s no sound from the other side, no shout of fuck off like he’d get from Charlie or a quiet just a minute, sweetheart he’d hear from mama. Tentatively, he turns the handle and pushes the door open, just a crack, enough to peek inside.

You’re in bed, sprawled out on your back with the quilt kicked off to the floor. Your bare breasts draw his eye and he looks away quickly, shame clawing up his throat. The bed creaks as you shift, sleepy noises leaving your lips in the process, and panic races through his veins, worried that you might wake up and find him standing there, worried that it might be what sends you running, worried about what mama will say if you up and leave and it’s his fault, worried, worried, worried.

“Thomas?” You ask, voice raspy. He didn’t even realize that you were awake, stupid, stupid, stupid of him. He should have turned around and left, should have—

“Hey, it’s okay,” you murmur, sitting up. Thomas hesitates, eyes still fixed on the floor. You must notice because from the corner of his eye he notices the quilt get picked up and then you’re telling him, “I’m decent.”

He swallows around the rock lodged in his throat and looks up, meeting your gaze. You don’t look mad or disgusted or upset. You’re actually smiling at him, a hand held out in welcome. He doesn’t dare touch you, but he takes a step closer, body moving like a moth to a flame.

Your head tilts to the side, assessing him, eyes flaying him open and leaving him feeling more exposed than when someone catches him without the mask. You’re holding the quilt up over your chest but Thomas can still see the tantalizing curves of your shoulders, the long line of your neck with the flutter of your pulse beneath delicate skin. It makes his mouth go dry.

“You ever touch a woman, Tommy?” You ask. The question catches him so off guard that all he manages is a strangled noise. “Well? That a yes or a no?” He shakes his head. You smile, lowering the quilt just enough to expose the top curve of your breasts. 

“You wanna?” 

Thomas’ eyes drop to your chest before quickly looking away. A flush creeps up his neck, staining what little of his cheeks you can see above the mask he wears. His hand flexes at his side, fingers curling open and shut. 

“It’s okay, you can look,” you say, gentle, gentle, gentle, like coaxing a scared animal. He looks at you again, blue eyes wide. “Come closer.”

He shuffles closer, looming over the bed, back so wide that he blocks the sun streaming through the window and casts a shadow over your body. You reach for his hand and he jerks away, as if on instinct. You pause, giving him a few seconds of reprieve, then reach for him again, keeping your eyes fixed on his face. Lightly, you touch his hand and when he doesn’t flinch, you grasp it more tightly. 

You guide his hand to your breast, settling his warm palm to your chest. He holds perfectly still for a moment and the restraint of it drives you insane, makes you bite your tongue so hard the taste of copper blooms across your tastebuds. Finally, he leans a little closer, fingers digging into your skin and making you gasp. He massages one breast, then the other, playing with the weight and feel of them in his large hands. You press your thighs together, cunt aching from the attention.

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching into his touch. The praise spurs him on, makes him more confident, and he starts to focus his attention on your nipples, pinching and twisting the sensitive buds. He’s surprisingly gentle despite his size and demeanor. 

You kick away the quilt from your legs, exposing the rest of your body to him. His eyes trail down your body, hands going still. He looks up, tilting his head, asking a question, looking for permission. You nod your head quickly and your heart races as a palm slides down, down, down, until he’s cupping your pussy over your panties. Your hips jump at the friction.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine. Thomas holds his hand still as you grind yourself against his palm. You reach your hands down, holding onto his forearm with a death grip. “Please, please, please!”

His fingers slip beneath the elastic of your panties and you both groan. He plays with the embarrassing amount of wetness, smearing it over your skin. You guide his hand the slightest bit upwards until the calloused pads of his fingers swipe over your clit.

“That’s it, Tommy,” you tell him. “Right there, right there.”

Dutifully, he continues to lavish you with attention, taking every direction beautifully. Slower, faster, harder, he adjusts to every suggestion and has you moaning and crying his name in desperation, but it’s not enough. You’re right there, so close, but you feel so empty, you just need—

“Inside?” You ask. He pauses, brows pinching together. “Put your fingers inside me.”

Slowly, slowly, slowly, he eases one thick finger into your drenched hole. Your head drops back at the sensation, at the relief, and begin to grind your hips again. He starts to see the pattern, moving his hand so that he’s working with your rhythm. You look up at his face and the concentration in his eyes leaves you breathless. All he wants is to do good, be good, make you feel good. 

Thomas presses another finger to your entrance, glancing at your face to make sure it’s okay. When you don’t say otherwise, he works both inside of you in tandem, the stretch making you groan. He curls them, exploring, skimming a spot inside of you that makes you cry out and dig your nails into his arm so hard that he grunts but doesn’t doesn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “You’re doing so good, Tommy, oh my god.”

He’s panting, sweat dripping down his neck, muscles tight with his efforts to wrench an orgasm from you. The lethal combination of his fingers inside of you and his palm against your clit and the muffled noises sneaking past his mask have you tumbling over a precipice so high you worry you might never come down. Your cunt pulses around his fingers and you babble his name and an incoherent stream of praise as your release washes over you, wave after wave of it.

Thomas waits until your body collapses against the mattress and you’re gasping for breath before slowly removing his hand. He holds it up to his face, pink tongue darting out from the slit afforded for his mouth to taste your cum from his fingertips. He groans, his other hand reaching down to press tightly to the sizeable bulge in his pants. He thrusts against his palm once, twice, before going still, shoulders shaking.

A door slams downstairs. Luda Mae’s voice shouts for Thomas and he takes a step back, head whipping towards the door and eyes wide with panic. You scramble from the bed, grabbing your dress and pulling it on quickly so that you can rush out the room, shutting Thomas inside. You lean over the banister and see Luda Mae standing at the top of the basement stairs, hands on her hips.

“I think he went out to the barn,” you call down. She looks up at you.

“Why would he be out there?” She huffs. “And what are you still doin’ in your room? You look a mess.”

“Sorry, m’am. Had trouble sleeping last night.”

Your politeness softens her annoyance. “That’s okay, darlin’, you’re still learnin’ the ropes. I gotta go find Thomas, Charlie’s found some troublemakers.”

“If I see him first, I’ll let him know.” You nervously smooth your hands down your skirt. “What kind of trouble?”

“You don’t worry yourself about that. We’ll let the boys handle it, alright?”

“Yes, m’am.”

“Good girl,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

Luda Mae leaves through the front door and you return to your room. Thomas is standing where you left him, hands curled at his sides. 

“You hear all that?” You ask him. He nods. “What’s going to happen?”

He walks to the window, peeks through the curtain. His shoulders are tense. When he turns back to you, he sets his hands on your shoulders and steers you to the bed, pushing gently until you’re sitting, the springs squeaking beneath your weight. He cups your cheek with one hand and points around the room with the other.

“You want me to stay in here?”

He nods.

“What if you need help?”

He shakes his head. He won’t need help.

“Okay. You better get down there.”

He nods again. Leaning down, he presses his forehead to yours, an approximation of a kiss. You smile at him when he pulls away. He lingers for a brief second longer before tugging open the door and disappearing from the room.

Trouble is heralded by the arrival of Uncle Charlie. You watch through the window as his cop car pulls up in the yard and he gets out, spitting curses you can’t hear. He waves a shotgun in the air, firing off a warning shot that makes you jump. You know Thomas told you to stay in your room but curiosity gets the better of you and you head downstairs.

Luda Mae is in the kitchen, sat at the table with a cup of tea. A piercing scream filters through the open window as she takes a tiny sip from her cup. 

“You need somethin’, dear?” She asks, unperturbed by the interruption. You shake your head.

“No, m’am. Just came to ask if you needed help with dinner.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I got it covered.” Another sip. “Could you get the laundry from the line?”

It’s then that you realize she’s testing you. Earlier she told you to let the men handle it, but she wants to see where your loyalties lie. Thomas told you to stay put, to stay safe, but she’s sending you out to join the wolves because she knows, she knows, she knows that you’re just like them. 

She just needs proof.

You smile. “Of course.”

On your way out of the kitchen, you slip a knife from the butcher block.

One of the men that Charlie dragged home writhes in pain, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. His friend takes off at run, pace as fast as his injured ankle will allow. They’re the last two that need to be dealt with. Thomas raises his chainsaw in the air, ready to end the animal’s suffering, but movement from the corner of his eye makes him pause.

The back door to the house opens and you stroll out into the yard, looking around frantically with a frightened expression. Thomas feels a rush of anger that you didn’t listen to him, didn’t stay up in your room, didn’t stay inside. The anger quickly turns to fear when he sees the other man, the one he intended to deal with later, rushes toward you. You take off, running across the field toward the barn.

Thomas cuts the gas, tosses the chainsaw aside. The muffled whimpers from the man on the ground piss him off and with one, two, three strikes of the heel of his boot, he silences him for good. He heads for the barn, red in his vision with every step. If the other man lays a single finger on you, Thomas will keep him alive but begging for death.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here,” a male voice shouts. “They’re goin’ to kill us!”

Thomas throws open the barn doors, the wood shaking with the force of it. You’re turned away from him and the first thing he notices is the knife held in a tight fist behind your back. The man stumbles to the ground, trying to scramble back from you as Thomas comes closer.

“No. We’re going to kill you,” you tell him. You spring forward, jumping on the man with a feral scream that sounds like music to Thomas’ ears. Your arms swing up, up, up and then slam down, down, down, burying your knife into the man’s chest over and over and over.

Thomas can’t wait anymore. He approaches you from behind and wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you away from the mangled body. You struggle in his hold and he hauls you over to a work bench, swiping the tools to the ground with his other arm and setting you on the surface.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say immediately, head shaking side to side. “I just wanted to help, I just—“

Your rapid apologies morph into a choked off moan when he lifts your legs, wrapping them around his hips, grinding his painfully hard cock against you. He buries his face into your neck, licking at the blood that stains your perfect skin, the taste of salt and copper opening a pit of hunger in his belly that could never be filled by food.

“Tommy,” you whimper, head dropping back. He licks and bites at all the skin he can find and when he runs out, he drops to his knees and begins anew on the muscles of your legs. 

He pushes the fabric of your dress up, bunching it around your waist to expose your pussy, still covered by the same panties you wore earlier when he made you come on his fingers. Wrapping his fist in the elastic, he pulls until it snaps under the pressure, fabric falling away and leaving you completely bare. 

Thomas pushes your thighs apart, spreading you open. He leans closer, biting at the soft flesh of your thigh, a little harder than he should. The tiny indents his teeth make in your skin are proof that this isn’t some dream. You’re flesh and blood, just like him.

Just for him.

His mouth waters as he nears your cunt, the earlier memory of your taste making that hunger grow to near starvation. His tongue slides over the slick flesh, exploring the dips and folds that taste so sweet it hits him like a sugar high, like when he’d steal a handful of candy from the corner store and eat it all at once, afraid of getting caught.

There’s a quiet thump and Thomas looks up to find that you’ve collapsed onto the table. Hands reach down and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on the strands. He remembers the spot that he rubbed with his fingers and searches for it with his tongue, knowing he’s found it when your thighs press against his ears and you moan his name like you did in your room.

“Oh, god! Just like that, Tommy,” you say, holding his head in place. “So good, so fucking good.”

He licks and sucks and grazes his teeth against you to his heart’s content and you writhe beneath him, bucking up against his face so fiercely he has to hold you down with an arm across your lower belly. He grows braver, dipping his tongue into the warmth of your cunt and drinking you from the source until you’re shaking. When he pulls away, he’s awed by the mess he’s made of you, your lips puffy and skin slick and shiny from your cum. He uses his thumbs to spread you apart, admiring the way your hole clenches around nothing.

Thomas stands, unsure of what to do next. You sit up from the table, expression dazed. Tear tracks stain your cheeks and a brief strike of worry hits him. Did he hurt you? Was that too much? Are you—

“Come closer,” you whisper. His thoughts go silent as he obeys. You reach up, cupping his face, hands trailing down to the strap of his apron. You lift it over his head and drops down, hanging limply. 

Your arms wrap around his thick middle, working the knot of strings loose behind his back. It falls to the floor in a heap now and he stares at it, pulse racing as your hands roam to his chest. His breath stutters as your touch traces lower, lower, lower, until your palm presses against his cock and his mouth drops open at the pleasure of it, so different from when he touches himself or ruts his hips into the mattress. He can feel the heat of your skin even through the thick fabric of his pants.

You’re popping the button and dragging down the zipper, wrapping a soft hand around his cock and pulling it free. Thomas groans, loud and rough, as you slide your hand up, thumb swiping over the clear fluid gathered at the very tip. 

You tug on his cock, hard enough that he stumbles forward, pressing closer. You look up at him as you rub the flushed head through your wetness and his shoulders shake at the sensation. You feel so good, so warm, he just wants to—

You notch him at your entrance and on instinct he thrusts forward the slightest bit, just enough that the fat tip of him sinks into tight heat. You gasp, eyes going wide and he’s once again struck with the fear that he could be hurting you, maybe he’s too big, too much of a monster, but when he tries to pull away you’re grabbing his shirt in a tight fist.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss. “Keep going.”

Thomas obeys, just as he always does, pushing his hips closer, shoving his cock deeper, deeper, deeper. He watches his length disappear, your body stretching to accommodate his size. You look beautiful, with the tears that gather in your eyes and the blood smeared on your chest and the way your thighs shake with the effort to take him, that his chest aches, that last thread of control keeping him slow and steady snapping like his hips as he buries himself inside of you, completely and thoroughly.

You’ve never been this full before. You fall back on the rough wood of the work bench with a gasp, stars in your vision as your body adjusts to the sheer size of the man, the thick length of him splitting you open and leaving you breathless. He leans forward, the angle changing and tears spilling from your eyes as you stare up at the hulking monster above you.

“So big,” you gasp. “God, you’re so fucking big.”

His cock twitches inside of you and you moan, back arching off the bench. He feels so good, even through the burning stretch. You give a tentative wiggle of your hips and his eyelids flutter, a moan escaping him. When the pain eases into a dull ache, you lift a shaky hand to his face, settling your palm against the cool leather of his mask.

“I want you to fuck me, Tommy,” you tell him. “I want you to ruin me.”

His pupils grow impossibly wider and a shadow falls across his features, his demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. Gone is the man who was worried he would hurt you and in his place is the ravenous beast that matches the one clawing at you from the inside, just beneath your ribs where your chest aches with need. He draws his hips back until the tip is barely inside of you before thrusting forward. Your mouth opens, a scream ripping from your lungs but it’s cut short when a large hand wraps around your throat and squeezes. 

Thomas is a man possessed, pounding into your body like it’s nothing more than a toy for his pleasure, filling your pussy to the limit with each stroke. The hand on your throat holds your body steady and he uses his other arm to lift one of your legs, then the other, your thighs pressed to his thick belly and your ankles by his ears. His moans mix with the lewd sound of skin against skin, a soundtrack of hedonism that you want to listen to on repeat until God calls you for judgment and sends you straight to Hell.

Your orgasm is quick to build, a pressure in your tummy that grows tighter and tighter until it bursts, all your muscles going taut with the force of it. Thomas roars, hands gripping your hips and holding you impaled on his cock as he floods your pussy with his release. You feel untethered, like you’re floating, and it’s not until you’re squinting into the Texas sun that you realize you are floating. Thomas is carrying you through the field, back to the main house, one arm supporting your back and other under your knees, holding you close to his chest.

Luda Mae is on the porch when he reaches the door, hands on her hips. He pauses and her keen gaze assesses you both. Finally, she smiles.

“Get yourselves cleaned up. Dinner is almost ready,” she says. 

Wordlessly, Thomas brings you inside and down to the basement, where does exactly as he’s told.

Just as he always does.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment.

Want more to read? Check out my masterlists.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｄｅｌｉｃａｔｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: body piercer!seungmin x chubby!fem!shopassistant!reader (w/ appearances by tattoo artist!stray kids)

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Summary: For the longest time you've dreamed of getting your belly button pierced but you always stop yourself, too shy about your weight to get it done. While working your usual shift at the tattoo shop the resident piercer offers to do it for you, with a bit of meddling from your best friend Changbin, though it turns out that he wants to give you a little or a lot more than just a piercing.

♡ Word Count: 4.7k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has some insecurities about her weight, piercings (of course), you're getting your belly button pierced babe so yas there's a needle, strong language, kissing, body worship, unprotected sex, Seungmin has a lil dom moment, grinding, fingering, mirror sex, ass slapping, oral sex (f receiving), pet names (good girl), and otherwise fluffiness.

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this as a comfort fic for anyone out there who may be struggling with a bad body image day or who might feel like sometimes that they aren't thin enough to wear/do what they want or get the person that they want. My point being that you're a badass bitch who can get whoever and do whatever. If anyone tells you differently they can eat dirt and tell them I said so, babes - xoxo

♡ Part Two Here ♡

Saturday nights at the shop are always your favorite. It’s a little too loud, a little too hectic, but that’s the way you like it. On nights like these you never know who’s gonna step in from the glow of the neon signs and throw you for a loop.

Like the couple making out on one of the couches while they wait their turn to get matching inner lip tattoos. A decision they totally won’t regret when their two week long romance crashes and burns.

Or people like the guy on the phone insisting he come in for a tattoo you know for a fact all of your boys would die before they took on. 

“Look, man, I’m not judging you,” you say, judging him to the fullest extent, “It’s just that most of my guys aren’t gonna tattoo your di—”

“Delivery!” a friendly voice rings out in the lobby.

The front door dings, announcing the arrival of your usual delivery girl. She’s short and bubbly with a bag hooked in each of her wrists, filled to the brim with food. In a hurry as always, she sets them down on the desk in front of you and flashes a sweet smile before scurrying off to her next delivery. You respond with one of your own, hopping off the phone just in time to shout, “Have a good night!”

Without missing a beat, you scoop the bags up and head down the hallway off to your left. Bobbing your head along to the rock music blasting from the speakers overhead, you make your way to the main floor where tattoo guns are buzzing away. 

“Food’s here!” you announce but it’s too late. You’ve already been spotted and Jeongin’s swiping the bag from your right hand before you can dodge him. 

“Ooh, what’s for dinner?” he asks, already hard at work cruising through tonight’s options. 

“What?” Felix yells from the far side of the room. He’s hunched over his table, focused on finishing a tattoo of a butterfly on the ankle of a girl who’s much more interested in him than a tattoo. 

“She said food’s here!” Jeongin mumbles through a mouthful of food. He makes it a few steps back towards his station, hugging the bag like a newborn baby he’ll protect with his life, before Hyunjin intercepts him.

“Give it here!” Hyunjin demands, almost wrestling a stubborn Jeongin for the bag. 

You feel a tugging at the other bag and by the time you turn to see who it is, Minho’s already passing by with Chan, the bag secured in his hand.

Minho digs through it, frowning, “Fuck, they forgot my sauce again.”

“Christopher, can you control your children before they scare off our customers?” you shout after Chan as he grabs his food and settles down at his station. 

Chan leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up. Checking his watch, he grins, “Can’t sorry. I’m on break.”

You roll your eyes, letting out a huff of frustration. Sometimes the real headache isn’t the weird customers, it’s the guys you work for, but you love them so if there ever were a headache you could tolerate this would be it. 

Turning to head back up front, you stop dead in your tracks when you realize that one of the first people to swarm you for dinner hardly looked your way. Backtracking you spot the stray, Seo Changbin, locked in on an intricate chest tattoo and Han laying across his table, whining like this tattoo wasn’t his idea to begin with. 

You skip over to Changbin’s station, quietly admiring the piece over his shoulder. It’s a compass. Highly detailed. Clean lines. The same flawless work you always expect of him. 

“Aah, you’re trying to kill me” Han says, turning to you for sympathy, “He’s trying to kill me.”

Changbin groans, paying him no mind. “Hey, I wouldn’t have agreed to do this if I knew you’d be such a baby about it. 

Han pouts, poking his lip out, “I am not a baby.”

You giggle, shifting to the other side of the table to get a better look. 

“You are such a baby” you tease, poking his lip back in, “It looks really good. Totally worth the pa—oh my god. When did you get that?”

Your gaze drifts from the tattoo and down Han’s torso where shiny, stainless steel jewelry adorns his belly button. 

“A week ago, maybe two?” Han smiles, happy that you noticed. “You like it?”

“Ugh, I love it” you gush, eyes lit up at the sight of it. “I wish I could get one but I can’t.”

Han seems more excited than you at the mention of it. “Why not? You should get one!”

You freeze, unsure how you want to answer this question. You’re mortified of the possible awkwardness of the truth but you’ve been best friends with these guys far too long to lie to them. 

“Well, I haven’t lost enough weight yet to get one but when I do—”

Changbin stops tattooing, shutting his gun off to stare into your soul. “What did I tell you about that? You’re beautiful how you are. Isn’t she beautiful the way she is?”

He poses the question to someone over your shoulder and, as the figure rounds the corner, your heart almost stops beating.

“Hmm? Yeah” Seungmin, the sole piercer in the shop, nods sipping a drink through one of those cute twisty straws. You find pretty much everything the man does attractive but there’s something especially adorable about this. 

He disappears into his room with a simple wave and a nod that makes you weak in the knees. Every guy here is like a brother to you but Seungmin? He’s different. You’ve been head over heels for him, utterly at his mercy, since he started working here.

As far as you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend but you haven’t figured out how to decipher his trademark grumpiness enough to tell if he has a thing for you too. Far too terrified to make the first move, you’ve settled for drooling over your dark haired puppy dog eyed lover from afar. 

Han nudges you with his elbow, struggling to hold back his laughter, “Ooh, you like him.”

You’re about to knee him in the side but he’s saved by Changbin’s execution of a plot he concocted mere seconds ago. You hadn’t noticed that mischievous look on his face but you have now and you don’t like it one bit. 

“Seungmin!” he calls out, flicking his gun on and getting back to work. 

Seungmin appears in the doorway, more preoccupied with his phone than anything Changbin has to say. 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Got time to do a belly button piercing real quick?”

“Depends” Seungmin shrugs, finally looking up from his phone, “Who’s asking?”

“Changbin, no” you mouth, only to be ignored. 

Changbin points to you, bubbling with joy at his evil plan. Seungmin folds his tattooed arms across his chest, looking you up and down.

Suddenly you’re second guessing what you wore today. Some combat boots and a short black dress with lace accents. It’s tight enough to highlight your shape but loose enough to flow a bit when you walk. Is it enough? Is it too much? Why are you even thinking about this?

“You?” Seungmin asks, raising a curious eyebrow. 

Fidgeting with the silver heart locket on your necklace, you muster up the courage to actually face him. 

“I was just, uh, I was thinking about it but I’m working so…”

Changbin chimes in, not letting you weasel your way out so easily, “Jeongin can watch the front desk”

“I don’t even have any jewelry picked out.”

“He has emergency jewelry back there. Don’t you, Seungmin?

Seungmin glances back into his room to check, “I’ve got something for her and my next appointment canceled so I have time if she really wants it.”

With no way out, you take a step towards his room, hesitating for a moment. Seungmin gives you a half smile, more than he offers most people. “Come on. I don’t bite.” Not that you’d be mad if he did. 

Giving in, you push forward, glancing over your shoulder to give Changbin a look that says he’ll pay for this later. Seungmin steps aside, patiently waiting for you to enter his room before shutting the door behind you. You jump a little when the door clicks shut and you hear him laughing at you.

“Nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? No way.” 

You’re lying and he can tell. When you spend your time doing dozens of piercings a day you get good at reading people. Plus the way you’re trembling doesn't exactly make it hard to tell what you’re feeling. 

“Well you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of you, okay?” he reassures you, placing a comforting hand on your forearm. His thumb strokes your inner wrist and suddenly your body's electric.

“Uh, yeah, for sure” you nod, your voice light and airy. 

Seungmin gently squeezes your arm, heading over to his closet to search for something. After a few seconds he pulls out a small fuzzy blanket with a cute Halloween pattern on it. 

“I need you to pull your dress up for the, well, you know” he says, opening the blanket up for you, “But if you’re not comfortable you can cover up with this.” 

“Oh, thanks. That’s really sweet of you.” You try not to seem too impressed, taking the blanket as he turns his back to you, busying himself by doing some prep. 

Hiking your dress up over your stomach, you tuck the blanket around your waist to cover your legs. Staring down at the way your soft belly pokes out, your brain goes into crisis mode. You’d imagined yourself half dressed in a room with Seungmin but this was far easier in your fantasies than in real life. You feel so vulnerable, one of your biggest insecurities laid bare, but there’s no turning back now. You’re in this. 

“So, are you gonna tell me what all that was about?” Seungmin asks, careful not to catch even the slightest peek at you before you’re ready. 

“All of what?” you stutter, your mind temporarily going blank. “Oh, that with Changbin? That was just, I don’t know, I’ve been wanting this for a while but I was putting it off…for reasons.”

“Because you don’t think you’re ‘Beautiful the way you are’?”

You cringe at his question, wishing Changbin hadn’t used such a cliche phrase. You squint your eyes, staring into the distance, imagining all the ways you’ll torture him for getting you into this. 

“It’s not that” you deny, gearing up for another lie but you back down yet again, “It’s kinda that. I don’t know. I’m not really a girl with a flat stomach.”

Seungmin snaps on a pair of black gloves, “Can I turn around now?”

“Mmhmm” you nod, your dress gathered in a tight fist of fabric above your stomach.

He spins around, pulls up a chair, and flops down in front of you in one fluid motion. He twirls a black marker in one hand, popping the top off with his teeth.

“Who told you that you had to be a girl with a flat stomach?” he asks, inspecting your belly button for the perfect spot. “I like your stomach. I think it’s cute.”

The compliment has the heat formerly warming your cheeks spreading through your entire body. You let out an involuntary giggle and he cracks a smile, a full one this time. The first of its kind in shop history. 

“You don’t have to say that to be nice.”

Seungmin marks a point, grabbing a hand mirror to show it to you, “You like it? Yeah? Good. Up on the table.”

You hop up on the table and assume the position. Straight out on your back, hands at your sides. You see it every day. No instruction needed. 

“I wasn’t being nice by the way” he says, that handsome face sliding up next to you. “It is cute. You’re…you’re really cute.”

Feeling himself begin to blush, he slips out of view to sterilize the area and get the needle ready.

“I’m sorry if that was weird. Was that weird?” he rambles, mostly to himself. 

Today’s full of firsts. You’ve never seen him nervous before, you never expected to, but the man’s ears are turning red and he can barely string a sentence together. 

“It’s not weird, Seungmin. You’re really cute too” you say, despite your own nervousness. You’ve been waiting so long to say that. It’s a relief to finally get it out. 

“Now you’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. I do think you’re cute. I always have” you confess, “I just never said anything cause I didn’t think you’d like me."

Pinching your skin with a set of forceps, he aligns the needle with the tiny mark above your belly button, “Deep breath in.”

You take a deep breath in and the needle pops through like butter. You feel a quick sting followed by a rush of adrenaline. He slips the jewelry through so seamlessly you hardly feel it and you’re all done. 

“Are you crazy? I’ve liked you forever. Was it not obvious?” he asks, popping off his gloves and taking your hand to sit you up. 

“What? No. It wasn’t obvious. Was it supposed to be?”

Seungmin pauses, truly reflecting upon his attempts at flirting. “I tell you ‘Good morning’ every morning. I tell everyone else to kiss my ass.” 

“So romantic” you joke before noticing how sincere he is about it. 

You instantly wonder if he’s stared at you before the way he does now. The truth is that he has, maybe not in the most obvious moments but every chance he gets. When you’re running late in the morning, hurrying in with iced coffee to win everyone’s sympathy. When you’re all hanging out at Minho’s place and you’re rambling with Han about the dramas you’ve been watching. Or when you’re all out having drinks and you’re simply existing. He has those same stars in his eyes that he does now. Every. Single. Time. 

Realizing how hard he must be staring, he backs his chair up, giving you enough room to move around. Riding high on the thrill of actually going through with your piercing—your thoughts jumbled up by the knowledge that these feelings are mutual—you hop up to check yourself out in the mirror with not a thought given to the fact that the blanket has slipped off.

So here you are, twirling around in front of the mirror with your dress proudly held up. Plush thighs kissing each other. Lacey black panties on full display. A dazzling piece of jewelry dangles from your belly button and your stomach does the happiest jiggle as you delight in your reflection. 

“You like it?” Seungmin asks, coming closer to get a better look.  

“I love it. It’s so pretty” you beam, your gaze drawn to something shifting in the reflection.

Seungmin isn't watching you the same way he was anymore. There are notes of something reminiscent of the former innocence and awe but it’s something different entirely. It’s intense enough that you can feel the air shift in the room. The brown of his eyes seemingly grows deeper the longer he takes in your figure. 

“You can’t look at me like that” you say, your breathing growing shallow as you begin to lose yourself in what you see in the mirror. Watching him watching you. 

“You don’t want me to?” he asks, patiently awaiting your answer.

You don’t feel rushed or pressured. His patience is genuine but his eyes never leave you. They never leave you to question if that look of longing is dedicated to you or not.

You take a deep breath, making one last twirl to face the man that has your pulse racing a mile a minute. It isn’t just the way he watches you that has you on the verge of soaking through your new panties. It’s the way he sits in his chair, slightly tilted back, arms resting on his legs. It’s like he’s waiting for you, that little grin on his lips daring you to come take a seat. 

“I want you to” you say softly enough that you’re unsure if he heard you. 

Seungmin glides closer to you in his chair, stopping when his knees barely graze your legs. He leans forward, fingertips tracing the outline of your thighs, “You want me to what?”

As he asks the question, his breath tickles the surface of your skin and you shiver at the sensation.

“I want you to…aah” you gasp as his hands grip the tender flesh of your ass, pulling you in close enough for his lips to meet your stomach. He kisses it carefully and lovingly, taking his time to let his mouth and hands explore all of the softest, fluffiest parts of you. 

“You want me to…what?” he asks, tugging you down into his lap, his lips still wet from kissing your body. It makes it all the more tempting to kiss him. Surrendering to your impulses, you pull him into a kiss so ravenous and full of need that it leaves his head spinning in the best way. 

You were meant to come in here for a piercing. That was it. Now you’re straddling his lap with your fingers in his hair while his tongue’s halfway down your throat.

Slipping his hands back under your dress, he rests them on your hips, pressing you down into his lap to show you just how hard you've gotten him. Your panties are more soaked than you notice, making the material thin enough that you can feel it all. The thickness of his cock, the texture of his pants, grinding against your sensitive core, bumping your clit each time he raises his hips.

A moan escapes your lips. A weak, cute little thing that only makes him want you more. He breaks from the kiss, charting a course down your neck to tease the curves of your breasts with his tongue. 

“Who told you that you could be this sexy?” 

“I don’t know” you giggle, a small glimmer of your former shyness coming through, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he tilts you just enough to give him the space to stroke your clit through your panties, forcing more and more of those sensual moans to pour out of you. 

“Just promise me you won’t stop” Seungmin begs, tucking your panties to the side to pet your dripping slit. “Keep being this sexy…this fucking cute…this—fuck.” He sinks his fingers into your core and you swallow them up eagerly, clenching tightly around them. 

You throw your head back, your back arched in pleasure. You know without looking that he’s watching you again. You know he’s getting off on how your breasts bounce each time you grind down onto his fingers, your pussy so wet that his whole hand’s slick with your juices. 

Seungmin navigates your body like magic, picking up on your most tender spots and knowing just when to hit them to make you tremble the way you did when you first stepped into this room. 

Cradling his cheeks in your palms, you come face to face with him, and say to him in the sweetest tone, “Fuck me already.”

Taking you into his arms, he sweeps you up out of the chair, and sets you down on the edge of the table. 

“Oh god, I didn’t know you could do that” you gasp, stunned that he could pick you up. You knew that Seungmin was fit, something more than obvious by the toned body your eyes are graced with when he pulls his shirt off. But fit enough to pick you up like you’re nothing? Now that you didn’t expect. 

“What? You didn’t expect me to be strong? I’m hurt” he pouts, pretending to be offended but not too offended to help you wiggle your dress up over your head. 

You slide back on the table and right out of your panties. “Get up here and I’ll make it better.” 

You spread your legs and he’s right in between them, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he makes his way up to a pussy wet enough to glisten in the glow of the overhead light. He can’t resist having a taste, humming at the deliciousness of your arousal dancing on his taste buds.

The tip of his tongue meets your clit, flicking it slowly at first then picking up an unforgiving speed. Your hands find his hair again and you’re writhing on the table, choking back moans with your fingers tangled in the back of his head.

The slurping sounds that fill the room make you want to cum right now. In his mouth. Down his chin. All over that gorgeous face of his. And he’d welcome it happily. Beg you to give him more even. That’s how badly he wants you. How badly he’s always wanted you. 

Seungmin’s mouth deserts you unexpectedly, leaving your walls spasming and your stiffened bud twitching in his absence. “Add that to the list of things you can’t stop doing” he whispers, crawling on top of you.

You’re beautiful from any angle, there’s not one he can think of where you aren’t, but this has to be his favorite. You look so perfect underneath him. Right where you should be. 

“Getting eaten out?” you ask, planting a kiss on his shiny pink lips. 

“I meant tasting so good but…” he muses, the head of his cock throbbing at your entrance, “I can make sure that happens too.”

That first bit of contact, the very first time you feel his cock raw against your pussy, has you purring. Seungmin feeds you just the tip at first, stretching you out little by little, loving everything about how your body reacts to him. Running your nails across his back, you raise your hips, whining for more. 

“What are you whining for, baby?” Seungmin teases, giving you one inch after another, “Is this it? This what you want?” 

“Aah, yes, I want it. More please. Please” you plead, your eyes growing glossier the wider you’re stretched. 

It crosses his mind to spend more time teasing you just a little bit, it’s in his nature to be a bit of an asshole after all, but you feel way too good to play games with. You fit him like a glove and with every thrust he becomes more and more convinced that you must’ve been made for him. 

“You’re so perfect” he praises, massaging your curves, “Fuck, I love your body. Your face. Your everything.”

Soaking in the praise and the ecstasy of his length dragging along the ridges of your core, you could swear that you were glowing and, actually, you are. Glowing in his adoration and, courtesy of an accidental glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a fair share of your own. 

Seungmin catches you looking at yourself and smiles, pounding into you harder. “Don’t look away” he instructs, holding your head in place, “Have you ever seen how pretty you are when you cum?”

“N…no” you manage, biting down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming at the tremors each thrust sends through your body. 

“Good, we’ll see it for the first time together then.”

Using his free hand, he grips one of your thighs, pressing your leg back so that he feels even deeper than before. The force is powerful enough that you feel it in your chest, vibrating down to your fingertips.

You can’t take your eyes off of your reflection, he won’t let you. Your body moves so beautifully when he’s fucking you that he needs you to see it how he does. You need to see the way your tits bounce and your hips jiggle as the tension builds up inside of you and you’re choking back moans with his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Seungmin doesn’t need you to tell him how close you are. Your body gives him every cue he needs. The tightening of your muscles. The stuttering of your breath. The legs wrapped around his waist, making sure he keeps punishing your sweet spot, pushing you further and further to your breaking point. 

“Mmm, coming. I’m coming” you moan, letting your high wash over you. 

He kisses you on the cheek, refusing to let up on you. “Look at you, coming all over my cock” he coos, committing every face you make to memory, “Such a good girl.” 

The vision of you is almost too much. Your legs spread out, your brain all fuzzy, your body overstimulated, and your juices pooling on the table below. He can’t hold back anymore. He can’t ignore the tightness and the warmth of your velvet walls fluttering around him. 

“Oh fuck” he hisses, pulling out just in time to coat your swollen pussy in a thick glaze of his cum. It’s hot and tingly on your clit, tickling as it drips between your folds. 

You stroke his back, comforting him on his way down from his high and he does the same for you, his fingertips running up and down your thighs. The room falls into silence. Not an awkward one but one of comfort. One where you hold each other as long as you want. Not minding the heavy breathing or the sweaty bodies. Just enjoying being together before it dawns on the two of you that you’re both still at work. 

“Shit, shit, shit! The front desk is definitely on fire by now”  you fuss, rushing to throw your clothes back on. 

Seungmin’s not nearly in as much of a rush as you are. He’s having too much fun watching you freak out to care about if there's a bunch of agitated customers waiting up front or not. 

Grabbing you by the wrist, he spins you into a hug that calms you down in an instant. 

“So what if it is?” he asks, brushing your hair out of your face, “I have to ask you something important first.”

“Important? Important like what?”

“Important like I know we don’t close until 2am tonight but could I see you after, maybe?"

You shrug, acting like you don’t care when you’re literally screaming on the inside, “I guess so.” 

“It’s like that? You ‘guess’ so?”

Seungmin slaps your ass and draws you into a kiss that has you ready to drop your panties for him for a second time. 

“Fine. I more than guess. I’d love to see you later” you blush, playfully pinching his cheeks, “I’ll wait for you up front then?”

He nods, getting one last squeeze out of you before turning you loose. “Let me see it one more time.”

Knowing exactly what he means, you take a step back to flash him your new piercing. 

“Yup, still very hot” he winks, casually leaning against the table he just fucked your brains out on. 

You smooth your dress back out, giggling as you skip back out onto the floor to find that everyone’s staring at you. Machines are buzzing but no one’s actually doing any work. Even the customers are staring at you waiting to see what happens next. 

Clearing your throat, you hold your head high, and march across the floor. You manage to hide your excitement just long enough to make it back to the hallway where your joyful squeals can flow freely. You can’t remember the last time you felt this excited about something. About someone. About yourself.

You aren’t too big for a belly button piercing. It looks sexy as fuck on you, you must admit. And you aren’t too big for Seungmin who happens to look sexy as fuck on you too. You feel beautiful the way you are, truly, and there’s a boy sitting at his station, too busy thinking about you to get anything done, that thinks so too. 

[ervotica]

Okay okay okay so for the celebration, Bellamy with crybaby!reader who maybe gets sick after eating those berries in season 1 and he's just doting on her and being all sweet 🥺🥺

bellamy blake x crybaby!reader ✩ i made him a lil mean n teasing but it’s all in good fun

Bellamy scrapes his palms over your temples, slicking back the flyaway hairs that curl over your ears as you flit your head from side to side, eyes wide and glossy. He may not be able to see the hallucinations that plague your mind, but your frantic expression is enough to have him crouching next to you, dragging his hands over your skin as you sniffle and cry in that warbling voice.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Slow down.”

Your hands tremble as you hiccup and rock on the balls of your feet, digging soft fingertips into the earth beneath you.

“Can’t-” you gasp. “Too much.”

Bellamy’s brow creases with a frown, and he hooks his hands under your armpits to drag you upward, his chest pressed to yours.

“Easy,” he coos. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

You hiccup, ducking your head. He follows your watery gaze diligently, petting the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you warble, pursing your lips around a sob. “I’m sorry.”

Your pupils are blown wide, no doubt another effect of the jobi nuts, your body almost bursting at the seams with untethered energy.

“Baby.” Bellamy tries not to laugh, he really does, but the way you’re surveying him like he’s grown two heads is a little funny.

You purl sadly; your idea of a scolding, though far too soft.

“Don’t laugh, Bell,” you cry, moonlit tears making headway down your cheeks. He tuts, gathering the wetness at the corners of your eyes to brush them away.

“I’m not,” he huffs, though the tilt of his lips gives him away. You tip back into the dirt with a thud, palms out behind you as you stare up at the star dotted sky.

“Y’are,” you mewl.

He sighs, tilting his head to watch you. “Stop being a baby.”

That really sets you off. You sniff, rubbing at your eyes as though you can plug the steady flow of tears. “You’re so mean!”

Hooking his arm under your knees, he drapes you over his lap, your expression rather akin to a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry,” he snorts, chest shaking with a laugh. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Hate you,” you sniffle. He pouts, leaning down to smear a kiss over your jaw.

“I love you too, my baby,” he murmurs, voice rough and grating against your skin. You lean into him involuntarily.

“Don’t feel good,” you grouse, going soft and pliable in his lap. Your head bumps against his chest with a thud.

“I know.” He smooths his hand over your head again, snickering as you go limp at the touch. “You wanna lay down?”

“No,” you whine.

“Yes, you do,” he corrects. “C’mon.”

“Bell.”

He mimics your warbling cadence beat for beat, bending at the waist to murmur soft apologies against your cheek. You lean into him, clutching the hem of his t-shirt as though his touch might make your vision stop spinning.

Camp is full of delinquents in similar situations to your own, many lying in the dirt next to you, a few stumbling in pursuit of the visions that pervade their senses. You sniff sadly.

Bellamy gathers you up and squeezes you tightly, lips pressed firmly over your temple. “It’ll pass soon.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, baby. Promise,” he mumbles, breath hot against your face.

“Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs. “Love you too, brat.”

[respectthepetty]

While Fourever You was airing, people were upset that Hill and Ter kept popping up during Johan and North's story, yet I did not understand the anger. However, I am twenty-one episodes deep into Perfect 10 Liners, and I can respectfully say with all my being that I do not give two flying f*cks about anybody else who is not these two Blue Boys in love!

I normally would be upset that nobody was wearing their color this episode, and the only way they showed their color was through their bags, but in this episode, I. Don't. Care.

Usually, I'd be super excited that Red Rascal Arc wore his color while he took care of his man, but right now, I. Don't. Care.

On a regular day, I'd take this as confirmation that Black Brooder Yotha and Green Guy Gun are into puppy play, but today, I. Don't. Care!

Like, I kinda want these two to make out sloppy style on that table in front of Wine, but even then, I. Don't. Care. (as much as I could)

Because while everyone is having a grand time slandering my Blue Boy's name, Faifa is going through it!

Wine's friends think Faifa is practically a slut (he isn't and even if he was, that'd be okay), Newton tells him nothing, Yotha thinks he is incapable of love even though he took better care of Yotha's boyfriend at one point than Yotha did, and everyone just expects him to keep rolling with the punches including his own mother even though they all know Faifa is a people pleaser because of the trauma they have ALL given him.

So I do not care about anyone else when Wine is sitting right next to Faifa and telling Faifa he can show his sorrow to Wine no matter how weird it might be because Wine isn't going anywhere.

I do not care about these other boys who are shit talking my man when Wine is on that roof reaching out to him and holding his hand as he cries.

I ONLY CARE ABOUT MY LAPIS LADS!

Yotha is trying to give Wine advice when Wine knows how to take better care of Faifa than anyone else. He has already slept in Faifa's bed. He has already kissed Faifa. HE HAS ALREADY DRIED HIS TEARS! So with all the disrespect in my chest, everyone else including Yotha needs to STFU and exit my screen!

Faifa and Wine are happy and in love, so trash the labels! As long as my boys are smiling and together, I don't care if they haven't defined the ship. I don't care if there are still three episodes left and a bracelet to get from the Love Guru Tawan because, in this beautiful moment, my boys have made the safest and kindest space for each other and that's all that matters.

I know Faifa telling that girl that he remembered her name came across as flirty, and I noticed Wine side-eyed him.

But THE BEST Blue Boy makes sure everyone knows he is only trying to romance one specific boy.

And he makes that clear to Wine again and again AND AGAIN.

So I am thrilled that despite all my fears of miscommunication and holding in their feelings, Faifa feels safe enough around Wine to openly express himself because unlike all these other triflin' heifers, Wine has shown again and again AND AGAIN that he only wants honesty from Faifa.

So all these other characters can kick rocks because I now fully understand the Fourever You folks. I only have eyes for one amazingly perfect couple!

Give me my boys being sweet on each other.

And ONLY my boys being sweet on each other!

And whoever makes them cry can eat dirt!

Or they'll be sleeping six feet deep in it. *drags finger across throat*

[crispylace]

“More Than Enough” ˎˊ˗

Synopsis: With everyone on edge and tensions running high, Shauna steps in when Mari takes aim at you. She pulls you away for a quiet moment by the river, where something unspoken passes between you both, something that feels a little like relief, and maybe a little like hope, in all the mess.

Pairings: Shauna Shipman x fem!reader

Warnings: None!

heavily ib: clownesclizardlambs on c.ai

Header made by: @cafekitsune

The air was damp. Not cold enough for snow, but enough to seep into your clothes and settle in your spine. You were kneeling near the fire pit, trying to get the soaked logs to catch, even though you knew it was pointless.

Mari was across the clearing, snapping kindling with way more force than necessary. You didn’t have to look to know she was watching you.

“She ever gonna do something useful?” Mari muttered.

You froze. Again.

“Mari,” Nat warned, not even looking up from where she was twisting rope. She sounded tired.

Mari ignored her. “I’m serious. We’re all out here working. She just drifts around like it’s some art school camping trip.”

You stood up slowly, brushing dirt off your knees. You didn’t say anything. That never helped.

“I don’t know why we’re all supposed to pretend she’s pulling her weight when she barely even talks to anyone.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could say a word, Shauna was already moving.

She dropped the knife she was cleaning and crossed the clearing fast. No warning. No big announcement. Just a flash of movement and then Mari was shoved hard into the trunk of a tree.

The camp went dead quiet.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shauna snapped, right in her face. “You want someone to blame? Say it to me. I’m right here.”

Mari shoved at her. “Get off me!”

Shauna didn’t move. “You think you’re better because you can carry wood and run your mouth? You think that makes you worth more out here?”

“She’s useless, Shauna!”

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Shauna shouted. “After everything? After however long we’ve been stuck in this fucking place? That makes her more useful than half of you.”

“Shauna!” Natalie barked, standing now. “That’s enough.”

Shauna’s breathing was hard and uneven. She stared at Mari for a second longer, jaw clenched, then finally stepped back.

Mari scoffed, rubbing her shoulder. “You’re losing it.”

Shauna didn’t answer. She just turned around and walked straight toward you.

“I don’t know why we’re all supposed to pretend she’s pulling her weight when she barely even talks to anyone.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could say a word, Shauna was already moving.

“Come on,” she said under her breath. “We’re going.”

You hesitated, looking around. No one met your eyes.

“Where?”

“Anywhere she’s not.”

You followed her down toward the river, away from the clearing. You could still hear Mari ranting behind you, but it all started to blur once you hit the treeline.

Shauna didn’t stop until you reached the water. She kicked a rock hard into the stream, then just stood there, hands on her hips, breathing like she’d just run a mile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

She turned. “Yeah. I did.”

You frowned. “It’s not like she’s wrong. I’m not exactly—”

“Don’t,” she cut in, voice sharp. “Don’t say it.”

“But I haven’t been pulling my weight.”

“You’ve been surviving,” she said. “Same as the rest of us. And if anyone thinks that’s not enough, they can go eat bark and shut the fuck up.”

You looked at her. She was shaking, just a little, from the adrenaline. Or the anger. Or both.

“You always jump in when it’s about me,” you said, not accusing just... curious.

Shauna ran a hand through her hair. “I know.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked down at the river.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “You get under my skin. And when people talk to you like you don’t matter it makes me feel like I don’t either.”

That hit harder than you expected.

“I’m not trying to make anything harder for anyone.”

“You’re not,” she said quickly. “But... I see you, alright? You don’t talk much. But you keep showing up. You’re quiet, but you’re still here. And sometimes I think if you weren’t... I’d come unglued.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Neither did she.

So you sat down near the river, knees pulled to your chest. After a second, she sat next to you, arms resting on her legs.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said, voice low. “What I feel. It’s not clean. It’s not... sweet. But it’s real.”

You turned to look at her. “Yeah. It is.”

For a while, you just sat there. You didn’t touch. You didn’t need to.

She stared out at the water like it might tell her something she couldn’t say out loud.

But you already knew. And maybe that was enough.

I’m out of ideas, hit me with some requests 🙁💔

[chrystal-ink]

The Hedgehog harem prologue part two: The proposal

Shadow(s) X GN Reader

Series rating: M Minors DNI Chapter warnings: NSFW towards the end mentions of sex noises, descriptions of masturbation

Tags:@ellieevu @hyenalover2630

Part one

It had been a week since all of the Shadows moved in and they couldn't take it anymore. they got along with each other the best they could, finding a middle ground was hard enough for the ultimate lifeform(s?) but they seemed more accommodating to, well themselves.

for some of them living a stable homelife was an adjustment, so used to fighting and missions all the time many of the Shadows haven't had real downtime in what seemed like forever, being cooped up was hardly ideal.

For others the technology was difficult to navigate, going from living in medieval times with no such thing as electricity or indoor plumbing to living in modern times where tasks that used to take all day took simply a few seconds now. or still getting used to things after waking up from a fifty year coma and having to re learn everything that you once knew how to do. there was much to be learned for certain.

However, the problem wasn't cabin fever, technology, or even each other. The main problem in the household was you.

In that short week you had managed to intoxicate each hedgehog into falling head over heals for you, and you weren't even trying.

The Day after all the hedgehogs arrived they were all gathered in the backyard, training with one another as a thinly vailed attempt at gaging who was the superior Shadow. A task you found quite humorous as you watched them from the kitchen window preparing lunch.

Right as you stepped out the back door to inform them that it was time to eat Tower kicked a Rock launching it full speed at you, before anyone could properly react you simply reached out and caught the rock and tossed it aside like it was nothing the thump in the dirt echoing throughout the back yard.

"Please don't break my window." You spoke gently as they all stared at you in shock "lunch is ready in the kitchen if anyone is hungry."

When asked about the incident you simply shrugged it off saying "Of course you taught me how to defend myself strength training included. The ultimate life form can't always be around to protect me, so he taught me how to fight just in case, we spar on most weekends just to make sure I stay sharp."

That was the moment Edge fell for you

⚔️

Lancelot looked at his torn under shirt in disappointment, he had intended to replace it when he got to the next village however he got swept up before that could happen.

You knocked on the door to your studio where he was staying.

"Hey Lancelot, is it alright if I come in? I kind of need to start working for the day."

Lancelot sighed in defeat not wanting to keep you from your work. "You may"

You entered the room placing your papers on the desk hardly noticing his lack of armor.

"Apologies for my state of undress but you see I have torn my undershirt"

turning to look at him you did find him not in his usual armor, only his helmet on as he held the shirt in his hand. "Oh, no problem I didn't even notice. would you like me to fix it for you?"

That won't be necessary, I can mend it myself do you have a needle and thread?"

"It wouldn't be a problem I make clothes for a living it would only take me a second on my machine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, from my understanding it's important for a knight to always be in armor when on duty is that right?"

"Yes when I pledged my loyalty to the Round Table I vowed to wear my armor with pride. a vow I fear I am currently breaking"

"Well we can't have that now can we. Let me see."

Lancelot handed you the shirt watching as you inspected it carefully. within a minute you had uncovered a machine he had never seen the like of before and he doubted he would see again. he watched as you turned a dial, placed his shirt inside and got to work.

"Why do you wear a shirt under your armor anyways?" you questioned.

"It's to keep the metal of my armor from cutting me, did you think I wore it bare?"

you giggled " yes. though I suppose in hindsight it makes much more sense for you to wear something underneath."

he watched you work a moment more before you turned your machine off, handing him the fixed garment.

he inspected it closely admiring your work, it was as if it was never torn in the first place "Thank you" he said as he bowed to you.

"Of course anytime"

that night as Lancelot turned in for the night he noticed an item neatly folded on his bed with a note that read "Incase you need a spare."

he unfolded the item to find you made him an entirely new undershirt trying it on he found it fit perfectly.

that was the moment Lancelot fell for you.

🎬

Nightmares were becoming more and more frequent as time went on, images of his sister limp and void of life flashed in his head as he tossed and turned on the sofa. silent tears streamed down his face as he recalls being locked away. he remembers the cold, the faint whispers of guards, he was not a person only a monster to be contained and they would always see him like that.

He gasped as sleep was ripped from him breathing heavily as he tried to steady himself in the dark living room. suddenly he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, it was just a dream. You're safe" a gentle voice spoke.

Turning he saw you holding two mugs you carefully handed one to him his hands still shaky from his nightmare.

"Here drink this it helps with nerves, careful though it's hot"

He obeyed notes of vanilla and lavender danced on his tongue as the tea brought him down from his flashback.

He watched as you took a sip of your own tea, your hand still delicately placed on his shoulder.

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes" you answered before he even thought to ask the question. "I noticed you having a nightmare and figured I'd help. My Shadow says this tea usually helps so I make sure to keep it well stocked"

he watched as you took a seat on one of the chairs beside him, the two of you sat in silence sipping your tea allowing his emotions to pass.

"You don't have to talk about it, not if you don't want to, but I'm always willing to listen if you need me to lend an ear."

A small "Thank you" was all he could muster at the moment.

"Of course, would you like me to sit with you a bit longer or would you like to be alone?"

"alone if you wouldn't mind"

"Okay, let me know if you need anything else."

Shadow nodded as you took his empty mug to the kitchen disappearing from him for the rest of the night.

the dread in his chest had been replaced with something stronger, something more hopeful. he couldn't quite place it but he knew he liked it.

That was the moment Dual fell for you.

6️⃣

Six had been watching you all week. The way you treated all the variations of him and he didn’t get it.

you never feared him or what he could do you fully trusted him. You must have known about his powers, about his origins, about his potential. he wasn't even fully hedgehog and you didn't seem to care.

the way you smiled at him, the kindness you showed, the way you seemed to know what he was thinking by just looking at him. there had to be more that was happening, some kind of angle you're using to get what you wanted.

there were only two people he trusted to speak to about this and both were in back in his universe, he had to go to the next best thing.

Rouge had come over five days in, both to deliver any news about getting home and making sure everyone was settled in okay. that's when he took his opportunity. Taking her aside he proceeded to question her about you. suspicious behaviors you participated in, any desire for some sort of revenge, anything to prove that you weren't who you said you were.

Rouge just laughed over the questions. "I'm sorry hon but, this is Y/N we're talking about, they wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"But what about-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, look I get it, our Shadow questioned the relationship at first too, in his mind there was no way anyone could love him the way that they did. But it's true, They love him so much. they have seen every side to him there is, even the ugly ones he'd rather hide and despite all that they continue to love and be with him. I understand being wary but with Y/N there really is nothing to worry about I promise"

Six groaned still unsatisfied with the answer.

"just give it a few days I'm sure they'll prove you wrong"

"Fine" he puffed not knowing that Rouge's prediction would come true within the hour.

in order to cool off, and get a break from the others Six decided to take a run through the forest out back. his air shoes guided him through the trail as he whipped past trees and bushes.

The cool wind in his face calmed him and after about twenty minutes he was ready to return to the house. however, he didn't account for the branch on the way back.

once he arrived home Six locked himself in the bathroom assessing the damage done to his quills most of it was salvageable however most of the mess was on the one quill he had the hardest time reaching. back home he would have just had Rouge take care of it but it was just him so he would have to make due on his own.

he picked off what he could from the front wishing he knew where a comb was so he could straighten himself out properly. he was about to start working on the back when you walked in.

"OH! so sorry I didn't realize anyone was in here."

He sighed "It's alright I was just cleaning myself up"

"Oh, ok, do you need any help?"

"I've got it" you stood in the doorway as he continued cleaning himself off watching him struggle with his back quill. after a few more seconds of fumbling around he finally folded. "Fine"

You smiled pulling out a stool from the cabinet instructing him to sit. you opened a drawer full of combs every shape and size he watched as your fingers floated above your options finally selecting your tool.

He felt as you carefully removed the twigs and leaves tossing them into the trash he felt your hands gently trace against his scalp lightly massaging it. he had to admit it felt good he leaned his head back into your touch a soft hum escaping his lips. you didn't make any comment you simply continued your task gently dragging the comb through his quills.

within a few minuetes you were done, as you let go of his head he found himself missing your touch.

"there we go good as new" you broke the silence

"Thank you"

"Of course, anytime, and don't worry I wont tell the others about this, I know you don't like appearing disheveled." you winked at him before leaving the small room

Six felt a heat rise to his cheeks all doubts of you fading away in a single moment

That was the moment Six fell for you

🦔

After each of the Hedgehogs fell for you life in the house became torture. seeing your beautiful face everyday, knowing that you loved a version of them and not being that version.

worse yet watching as you openly loved your Shadow. giving him kisses when he walked in the door, snuggling up to him on the couch and retiring for the night with him.

somehow each of the Shadows became jealous of well themselves. they kept it together, knowing they couldn't resort to fighting. they were doing just fine that was until they hit their breaking point.

You and Shadow had excused yourselves early that night. nobody thought anything of it chalking it up to you being tired. they however were proven wrong.

Everyone was in bed sleep almost claiming them when all of a sudden a noise could be heard through the house. it started quietly maybe the soft squeaking of a door. but then it began growing louder and faster, soon enough everyone in the house was able to distinguish the noise.

It was you, your gentle moans echoed through the house like a beautiful gentle song "Shadow" you cried out in ecstasy making each of the tenants ears prick up. It was obvious what was happening now and it clearly had an affect on everyone.

Each of the Shadows found themselves in various states of arousal.

Tower who had set up camp in the backyard was listening from your open window. Tower had fallen for you the moment he laid eyes on you and it only got worse as the week went on.

He loved your smile, your kindness, your whit, your cunning. the only flaw he found was that you weren't with him.

Hearing you moan his name in pleasure had him worked up more than he had been before in his life ultimately he gave in, stroking himself picturing you underneath him crying out for his touch. he continued until white streams escaped his member landing in the grass below. He knew one thing for certain The next time he heard those noises coming out of you he would be the cause everyone else be damned.

Lancelot stared at his erection temptation growing inside of him. he was a knight of the round table he would never want to disrespect you that way. what was happening was between you and your love, as much as it hurt that he wasn't him. he covered his ears with a pillow hoping to drown out your beautiful music. If this were to happen again he wasn't sure if he would be able to resist.

Edge and Six had the displeasure of sharing the study unable to relieve themselves with the other person in the room they simply turned their backs hoping the other wouldn't notice them soft humping their sheets in order to obtain some kind of relief.

Dual sat in the living room knowing there was no easy way to hide the evidence if he were to try reliving himself right now, he simply closed his eyes memorizing your sounds to remember for later. hoping you would be done soon.

after thirty minuets the whole thing was done and silence was restored to the house. but the damage was done.

🌅

Shadow watched as the golden sun silhouetted your perfect sleeping figure.

Looking at you he wondered how he got so lucky to end up with someone as wonderful as you. despite all the challenges you still chose him and you always would.

he arose from the bed planting a kiss between your perfect ears.

after last night he knew you would need some breakfast in bed and he was happy to provide it. he snuck through the house and prepared your meal, having some practice he was able to make it almost perfect (toast was impossible for him).

On his way back to you he found himself confronted by his variant's.

"We need to talk." Edge stated.

🦔

you awoke to an empty room only a breakfast tray on your nightstand to greet you with a note attached.

"Eat before you come out" it read you listened eating the breakfast that had been so carefully made for you.

You emerged from the master bedroom full and dressed for the day. you found everyone in the Livingroom discussing something that seemed of great importance.

upon your entrance all of the Hedgehogs stood welcoming you in

"What's all this?"

"Y/N" Shadow started "We have a proposal for you to consider."

"Okay."

"We've seem to run into a problem, you see, It has become evident that we all share more than a face." Shadow took a deep breath "All of us for one reason or another has become infatuated with you"

"That's not funny Shadow."

"It's true" Six spoke up and the others nodded their heads in agreement.

"Being around you is wonderful and yet we find it difficult" Lancelot continued. "Seeing you in the arms of another is killing us, even if that person is technically us."

"Shadow picked up the discussion. "It's Important to know that you can say no to what we are suggesting at any point. We all agree that you will be the sole deciding factor in all of this"

"I Don't even know what you're suggesting"

"We were wondering if you would be willing to date all of us."

"What?"

"I know it's a big ask, and if you're not okay with it we can come up with another solution."

"You're okay with this?"

"It was his idea" chimed in Tower.

You looked at Shadow as he nodded confirming the statement.

you sat there in shock weighing your options. On one hand It was a huge ask, you weren't even sure if you could manage, on the other hand curiosity piqued at you. if you were going to do this there needed to be some ground rules.

"I will agree on three conditions. One, each of you have to ask to date me individually in your own time, not as a group. Two, In terms of the bedroom I can't take all six of you at once, I'm sorry I just feel like that would probably kill me. And finally three, Once a week as long as you all are here I want you all to meet with a group therapist and work through things together, now before you protest let me explain. each of you have been through an unspeakable tragedy and you are finally around people who fully understand and have been through that pain. you have a unique opportunity and I don't want you to waste all of that potential on me. so do we have a deal?"

Each of the Shadow's looked at each other looking for any signs of disagreement between them to which they found none. each hedgehog agreed.

"Alright" you said "Let's get started then."

Notes: this is the end of the prologue I Hope you enjoyed! from now on it's going to mostly be one shots with one or two shadows as the focus with the occasional group outing / activity. I don't have too many ideas for this series so feel free to share yours. Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY SERIES I'M ACCEPTING SUGESTIONS FOR THESE ARE NOT REQUESTS I MAY NOT DO EVRY SINGLE ONE THAT IS GIVEN TO ME BUT IF IT SPARKS AN IDEA I MIGHT MAKE A FIC WE WILL SEE IM ONLY GOING TO BE TAKING SUGESTIONS FOR A COUPPLE OF DAYS JUST TO SEE IF IT'S SOMTHING I WANT TO CONTINUE DOING.

[autumndragon]

summary: ryker has been tasked with bringing the boy to viggo's tent—a task that proves to be much more difficult than he thought.

this one is for @thedragon-and-hisboy @evilwriter37 and @eat-your-milk because i know you all love this as much as i do<3

for context: it's a canon divergent au where hiccup and toothless accidentally crash land on the isle of hunters after a storm during season 1 of race to the edge, so it's their first time running into viggo and ryker, and vice-versa!

enjoy<3

Getting the boy into Viggo's tent is an ordeal that tests Ryker's patience—and he barely has any to begin with.

The boy thrashes like a wild creature caught in a snare as they move down the stone path, all lean sinew and fiery fury, twisting in Ryker's grip so violently it's a wonder the hunter hasn't dropped him yet. His wrists are bound tightly in front of him with a piece of coarse rope, a strip of cloth tied between his teeth to keep him from sending another hunter to the healer for stitches.

Lars flits about beside them like a nervous sparrow, hands half-lifted to help, though Ryker pointedly ignores him, wrestling the feral thing in his arms without assistance.

The tent looms ahead, at the very end of the maddening spiral of the quarry that Ryker has never cursed more than today. The heavy flaps of canvas stir slightly in the sluggish morning breeze, and inside, the air is cooler, heavy with the scent of oil lamps and paper.

Viggo stands behind his desk, hands folded neatly behind his back, gaze already fixed on the boy as Ryker shoulders his way in.

The boy bucks again, teeth flashing behind the gag, boots dragging uselessly against the fine rugs that line the floor. Ryker mutters a low curse under his breath, shifting his grip on the boy and hoisting him fully off the ground so his feet cannot find purchase, one thick arm locked under the boy's bound arms, the other cinched tight around his middle.

Still, the boy fights, now free to kick without grounding—and he does, viciously, catching a low-standing cabinet near the entrance with a sharp blow of his metal prosthetic. The cabinet rattles violently under the assault, sending a carved model ship, a few wooden cups and a heavy brass compass that once belonged to Ryker's grandfather toppling and clattering noisily to the floor.

Ryker growls another curse, wrenching the boy's writhing form away from the wreckage, manhandling him forward toward the desk with grim determination.

"By the gods," Ryker mutters through gritted teeth, shifting the boy's weight with a grunt when its threatening to slip out, "how are you still fighting?!"

Behind the desk, Viggo watches the scene unfold with a calm, inscrutable expression, a single hand still held behind his back. The polished surface of his desk rocks violently when the boy slams his boot against it in passing, enough to shove it half an inch across the rug. An ornate pencil jar rattles precariously near the edge, then topples, scattering pencils like fallen arrows across the floor.

"Oh for Thor's sake—!" Ryker tightens his grip and hauls the boy back with a grunt, earning him a fresh flurry of muffled snarls and protests from his captive.

Viggo, unbothered, lifts a hand to catch the pencil jar before it can roll off the desk, calmly putting it back on its designated spot in the corner. For a moment, he regards the boy quietly—dirt-streaked, rope-burned, breathing hard through his nose, hair tangled wildly about his face, green eyes burning with a mixture of terror and fury.

The desperate thrash of someone convinced he must fight now or perish.

[thechaoticdruid]

Indulging Curiosity

Astarion x F!Tav (Smut)

Plot: After a particularly gory fight, Astarion can't help but get hot and bothered seeing his favorite little druid all covered in blood. So he invites Tav to join him for an evening of pleasure. Tav begins to reflect on how sex wasn't exactly how she imagined.(This is basically a continuation of Firsts, but this time I decided to use the name Tav instead of Winnie for the reader's enjoyment. THIS CAN BE READ WITHOUT NEEDING TO READ FIRSTS)

Content/Warnings: MDNI. HEAVY Smut. PiV sex, anal sex, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal and anal fingering. Dom/sub, sub Tav, previously virgin Tav, Dom Astarion, light hair pulling, pillow talk, praise kink. Gore and action in the beginning. Galeshaming.

The road was long and treacherous. Tav and her companions had already faced many foes.  These gnolls were no different. It was pretty clear as the young druid slashed one of the beast’s heads clean off, watching it drop down and roll off into the dirt. The gnoll’s blood had completely coated her scimitars and even splattered onto her face and chest. Astarion swiftly slashed his rapier across one of the gnoll's throats before stabbing it right through its windpipe. As the gnoll dropped to the ground dead, Astarion looked back at Tav, eyeing her blood coated figure.  

Be still my undead heart.~

He licked his lips, mouth watering at the sight of his lover drenched in blood.  Tav glanced back at him as the others of their merry little group took a moment to catch their breath, the fight had taken quite a toll on the group. Tav’s eyes met Astarion's and immediately she recognized that look he was giving her. It was the same look he gave her the day they'd stormed the goblin camp, before the night of the tiefling party. She looked off to the side with a blush. Tav was no longer a virgin, but honestly despite the experience it felt as if nothing changed. She would still choke on her own tongue whenever he flirted with her. And gods why did her first time have to be so clumsy!?  

The memory of her screw up where she ended drinking the blood she brought for Astarion will probably forever stay burned into the back of her mind. Haunting her as she lies awake at night. 

Tav groaned with a frown kicking some small rocks across the dirt road with frustration as Astarion approached her.

“My, my, someone's made a mess of herself.” Astarion said, running a finger over Tav's cheek and collecting the stray blood that dribbled down. 

He immediately dipped his finger into his mouth to lick it clean. 

“If you start straight up licking me one of these days we are going to have a serious talk.” Tav rolled her eyes. 

“Oh no no no! I would never do that….Well not in front of the others anyway…” Astarion said, grinning cheekily.  “But if you're interested there are a couple of things I'd like to taste in private…” 

Tav felt a shiver go down her spine. 

“Like….Right now?” She asked, face turning bright red. 

“No pretty thing, not right this second. First we probably should convince the others to set up camp for the evening, then I'll steal you away and eat you right up.~” Astarion purred, eyes looking over the human female longingly. Tav couldn't help but squeeze her legs together. The way he said the last line made her ache between her thighs. 

“Okay…. I'll go talk to the others then.” She said, quickly walking away, face flushed as red as a tomato.  Tav scurried over to where the others were still gathering their bearings. Eyes glanced around the group as she considered her words carefully. Karlach and Lae'zel looked raring and ready to go while Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart were more on the exhausted side.

“You know the sun will be setting soon and that last fight with the gnolls was a killer on my back. Think I might need to lie down and rest awhile.” Tav spoke up, her tone slightly uneasy. 

“There is still daylight. The more time we waste the greater our chances of being turned into disgusting ghaik become. And I would rather fall on my blade than transform into my enemy.” Lae'zel hissed out, snarling in Tav's face. The human female gulped, feeling a bit intimidated by the fearsome gith.

“B-But look at them!” She began pointing over at the others. “They’ll be massacred in this condition and then we'll never reach the creché at all!”

“They just need a quick breather, soldier. It's not that bad.” Karlach replied.

“Not that bad? Don't you hear Gale’s old wizard knees cracking!? He's about to collapse!” Tav exclaimed.

“What? I'm not that old.” Gale scoffed.

“Those creaky knees don't lie Gale!” The human druid crossed her arms. 

“I have heard Gale's knees cracking at the most inconvenient times.” Wyll added.

“Perhaps Tav is right, rest would probably do us good. Besides, we can always leave come first light tomorrow.” Shadowheart suggested.

Lae'zel sighed, “very well, but if one of us so much as shows any sign of change I am holding our ‘leader’ responsible.” The gith fighter growled out.

“I…..will accept full responsibility.” Tav gulped, nervously.

The things I do for vampire cock….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After convincing the others to make camp for the evening, Tav participated in helping with the set up despite not having a tent to herself. The druid female was usually content sleeping under the stars (and if it rained she'd use her druidic magic to conjure up a thicket like shelter). However as she hunched over to pick up some firewood she noticed a certain red eyed elf watching her. His blood red orbs were glued to her backside. Tav bit her lip before hauling the wood over to the campfire Wyll had been able to start up before dropping the rest in.  It was then she returned the vampire's gaze.  He smiled at her seductively, long lashes giving her a wink before gesturing to her to come to him with a finger. 

Tav felt her heart race and her cheeks flush. She looked around at the others before scurrying off to follow Astarion as he walked off away from camp, leading her towards a cave at the edge of the river. Tav made sure to grab her bedroll and blankets as she trailed after him like a little lovesick puppy.  Before Astarion Tav had never known a lover's caress or as far as she was concerned not even a lustful glance. The druid was convinced she was homely and undesirable. 

She'd been told that all her life. The vampire spawn was the only one who'd ever made her feel wanted, but deep down she knew there was a catch.  There was something he wanted from her. She assumed it was the guarantee of a willing meal, but she wasn't completely sure. It pained her that their little fling would inevitably come to an end eventually. Astarion made her feel special.

Ashamed as was to admit it she found herself becoming smitten with him.  

Tav stepped into the cave, hearing the sound of water dripping down from somewhere. She walked over and noticed what looked like a hot spring off in the distance.  A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, causing her to squeak and drop her things. 

“Hells Astarion! You scared me!” Tav turned her head to see the grinning rogue. 

“I can't help it. I've been thinking about feasting on you since our last night together.” He chuckled, pressing his hips up against the druid's plump backside.  He was already shirtless as he pulled her against his bare chest, almost immediately going in for a kiss after she had turned her head back. 

“Mmmm!” Tav was a little taken back by his eagerness, but she instantly melted into him, eyes slowly closing as she kissed back. Their lips moved together in sync as Astarion cupped her breasts gently squeezing and kneading them.

Astarion eventually pulled back, leaving a slight string of saliva connecting their lips as Tav panted. Before she knew it the vampiric elf pushed her down into her discarded bedroll, he smirked at her playfully. 

“So sweet of you to bring blankets again darling. Though you'll probably need to wash them by the time we're done here.” He looked at her, licking his lips as his hands moved to pull her shirt over her head.  Tav swiftly discarded her bra once she was bare, letting the vampire spawn get a nice view of her large round breasts. Tav looked down shyly when she noticed him eyeing up her chest. A single clawed finger traced around her nipple, teasing it and making her shutter. 

“I'm not sure what you see in me. In my body….” Tav sighed a bit. 

“What's not to like? Especially when you have these.” Astarion playfully cupped her tits before leaning his head down to plant kisses on each of them. He swirled his tongue around one of her hardening nipples before wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently. 

“A-Ahh…. A-Astarion…” Tav moaned, as Astarion slowly moved to her opposite breast and repeated his actions as his hand moved to massage the other. Her breath hitched and her eyes followed him as he moved down, planting kisses over her plush protruding stomach and moving downwards. His fingers hooked onto the waistband of her trousers before he looked back up at her.

“May I?” Astarion asked before Tav quickly nodded in response. He pulled her pants down along with her boxer like underwear.

“Ahh…” Tav couldn't help but let out a lewd whimper as her elven lover ran a finger over her wet folds, coating the tip of his finger before licking it off slowly. 

“Mmm…. Delicious…” Astarion leaned down and ran his tongue over her clit, causing Tav to dig her nails into the bedding beneath them. He slowly and teasingly lapped over her cunt, eventually dipping his tongue inside. Tav closed her eyes and threw her head back.

“F-Fuck….” She gasped feeling his tongue slide in and out of her as he buried his head between her legs, his nose pressed against her clit. His hands cupped her ass cheeks as he lifted her up slightly, Her legs rested over his shoulders while the vampire spawn moaned into her cunt. Tav blushed darkly covering her face as she listened to the slick wet sound of his tongue plunging in and out of her.  The feeling was an indescribable pure bliss. Something she honestly had never expected to feel.

“Astarion….N-Ngh!” Tav cried out, feeling his fingers move up to play with her clit as he continued to eat her out.  Eventually he pulled back as he felt her flutter around him. He let out a breathy sigh, salvia connected his tongue to her cunt momentarily before he pulled away from her fully. 

“Astarion!” She whined, the sudden emptiness causing discomfort. 

“Turn over, my pet.” Astarion simply ordered as he gestured to her with his fingers.  Tav sighed and did as he asked without further complaint.

“Good girl. You're such an obedient little thing.” He purred, running a hand over the curve of her ass before giving it a slight pat. Tav bit her lip, this position for some reason made her groin tingle in excitement.  Astarion slid two fingers into her pussy from behind as his free hand rubbed over the growing bulge in his trousers. He huffed a bit, red eyes dazed with lust as he gazed down at her dripping womanhood. He thrusted them in and out a couple of times, eliciting some delectable little whimpers from his human lover before he dropped his pants. His cock was rock hard as precum dripped down from the tip. He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean, moaning softly at her taste before he lined himself up with her pussy and pushed into her from behind. 

Tav arched her back and cried out pushing her ass back up against him almost instinctively. 

He gave her ass a slight smack before grabbing her hips and slowly starting to thrust. Tav was a moaning whimpering mess as his hips slapped against her ass, cock pushing in deeper, stretching and pounding her soaking wet cunt.

“Oh look at you.” Astarion clicked his tongue, “our strong fearless leader...Mmm…Completely powerless under my touch.” Astarion said in between moans as he shifts over her back, pinning her down underneath him as he continues to rut against her ass, his cock pushing even further into her pussy, the head pressing up against a particularly sensitive spot.

“Tell me pet, do you like being at my mercy, hm?  Ahh….~” Astarion moaned a little noisier than before, feeling Tav clenching tightly around his cock. “Mm! I'll take that as a yes.” He let out a pleasured sigh, snaking his hands underneath the human female to grope and squeeze her breasts all the while continuing to pump himself into her.

“Astarion…I-I feel it…” Tav gasped, repeatedly pushing her ass back against his hips. “I'm about to….A-Ahh!”  Tav suddenly came with a cry, coating his length in her juices.  Astarion smirked and kept up his thrusts. 

“Naughty girl, I never said you could finish before me.” He suddenly began to increase his speed and force, ramming himself in and out of her innards. Her rear end turned light pink from his hips, constantly slapping against it. It took a while longer but eventually she heard him let out a rather delectable sounding grunt before spilling his hot, sticky seed inside her. Astarion huffed, tongue peaking out of his mouth slightly as he panted before slowly collapsing onto Tav’s back.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The two had made good use of the nearby spring in order to clean themselves off before curling up together back on the blankets and bedroll. The night was still young the two of them were afforded a brief reprieve before continuing their indulgence of one another. Tav laid beside Astarion. Her eyes glanced over his perfect flawless form. She wondered what it would be like to pepper kisses all over him, but she felt too nervous. Far too timid to make the move herself. 

She smiled to herself a hint of a blush spreading across her cheeks as she thought over the possibilities of what else might occur tonight. 

The position of their last little tumble had put some rather intriguing ideas into her mind. It reminded her quite a bit of the ridiculous erotic novels she'd found….definitely not stolen laying around in Sharess's Caress. She had become rather fond of one whose main characters were a high elf lord and a young half-elf man. 

Tav found herself picturing herself and Astarion in one of the positions from the book and bit her lip a bit before shyly nuzzling her face into his chest. 

Astarion who'd been resting his eyes suddenly looked down feeling a slight weight against his right breast.  

“Something on your mind, dear?” Astarion smiled down at her tucking some stray hairs behind her rounded ears. He traced a finger over them playfully. The elf always found human ears rather strange in a cute sort of way. 

“Just…Thinking…” Tav said shyly before suddenly her chin was gripped gently and she was turned to look up at her cheeky vampire lover. 

“About….?” Astarion had an air of mischief in his eyes as he looked down at her expectantly. 

“I never thought it was like this, if I'm honest. S-Sex…I mean….” She clarified, “a friend of mine had once told me men only care about their own pleasure.”

“And how many men exactly has this friend been with?” Astarion asked with a raised eyebrow. He almost sounded a bit offended.

“One I think…She only ever talked about one guy she'd been with.” Tav shrugged.

“And you believed her? You are so adorably naive, you know?” Astarion tapped her nose, causing Tav to pout.

“I didn't feel like I could ask anyone else. She was my best friend.” She explained, “but I suppose you are right. She also said it hurts a lot, but you've haven't hurt me yet.” Tav smiled a bit.

“Why did you agree to sleep with me if you believed that?” Astarion asked in complete confusion. He was beginning to wonder just exactly what kind of man Tav’s friend was involved with. 

“I…I'm not entirely sure…I know it's true we could die any day, but honestly I don't know if that's really the reason I agreed.” Tav chuckled a bit and sat up. “Perhaps deep down…I just wanted you more than anything at the time…” She murmured.

“Well of course, who wouldn't want their first time to be with someone as beautiful as I?” Astarion ran a hand through his hair, playing with one of the ivory curls. 

“You are very pretty I won't lie, but a pretty face will only get you so far.” Tav hummed and relaxed nuzzling her nose back against his chest.  

“I don't think I would have agreed if you didn't have such an entertaining personality.” 

“Entertaining? And how exactly do I entertain you?” Astarion asked.

“You make me laugh.” She said simply, “you're  sassy, witty and so very dangerous. It's exciting.” Tav’s tone was honest. There was no seductive flirtations, just pure sweet admiration.

“Keep the flattery up and I might not be able to stop myself from devouring you whole.” Astarion teased before grabbing her chin and planting a hungry kiss on the human’s lips. Tav blushed a bit, her heartbeat racing as she returned it. Astarion pulled back, continuing to stare into her eyes as he caressed her cheek with a clawed index finger. “You've been a very good girl so I'll let you decide what happens next.~”

“Uh…I…” Tav turned bright red, she knew what she wanted, but the idea of asking made her rather nervous. 

“Come on, tell me what you want my sweet.~ I won't bite…. Unless you want me too.~” 

Tav wasn't sure why she felt so embarrassed about it. It was no secret Astarion had been with other men as well as women so this wouldn't be something he'd be disgusted by, but the act itself felt so taboo to speak about.

“Well…You know the thing you do with other men…?” She mumbled out, her ears as well as her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Astarion rose an eyebrow as a mischievous smirk spread across his face. 

“Sorry darling, I didn't quite catch that. What is it you want me to do?” He asked, that infuriating smug look not wavering for a second.

“T-The thing you do with men.” She said a little louder. 

“My sweet, I have done a lot of things with a lot of men. You'll have to be more specific.” He teasingly ran a finger over her chest. 

Tav internally screamed. She could tell he was just fucking with her at this point. 

“I….I want you…to…put it in my ass…” She mumbled under her breath.

“Hmm? What was that, pet?”  Astarion kept taunting her with his knowing grin.

“I want you to fuck me in the ass!” She suddenly snapped. 

“Oh! Well, why didn't you just say so?” Astarion chuckled a bit at the end. Tav glared at him with a pout. “Oh sweetie, I'm only teasing. Besides you look so delicious when you blush.” He said before quickly flicking his tongue over her ear, causing a shiver to go down her spine as she let out a shutter. 

“I am a little surprised. Most women don't really care for this sort of thing…” He said tracing a finger around her hardening nipple, “but I'd be delighted to indulge your curiosity.” 

“Okay…”Tav nodded with a sigh of relief. 

“Now, on your belly.” He ordered. Tav slowly shifted off of him before turning to lay on her stomach. Astarion sat up before running his hand over her plump ass, giving it a slight squeeze before he moved behind her.  She heard him muttered something under his breath before suddenly his fingers were slick with grease.

Astarion spread her hole open with his clean hand before slowly sliding his index finger into her. Tav let out a noisy gasp, feeling a slight burn from his his digit pushing through her sphincter. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, slowly pumping his finger in and out.

“Mmm…Mhm..” Tav nodded, feeling him begin to move his finger faster. The sweet sound of her moans and the feeling of her quite literally wrapped around his finger was enough to make his cock twitch. He moved his free hand down to stoke it a bit as he pushed his finger knuckle deep inside her.

“Ooh…” She shivered before suddenly feeling him add a second digit into her ass, pumping them both in and out as he groped his hardening length.  Eventually the elf removed his fingers before greasing up his length. 

“Are you ready then?” 

“Yes…” Tav huffed and glanced back at the vampire as he lined himself up with her hole. He slowly and carefully pushed his cock up her ass. 

“O-Oh g-gods!” Tav cried out, nails digging into the blankets as he stretched her. Astarion grunted slowly bottoming out into her ass as his hands gripped her cheeks. 

“Nghh…” Astarion bit his lip, a pleased smirk threatening to form. “Mmm…How is that, love?” 

“Ahh….It's good…Oh fuck….” Tav moaned out, her eyes rolled back into her head as she felt Astarion roll his hips against her ass. 

“Excellent.” He huffed before positioning himself on top of her back, slowly sliding himself in and out. Tav pushed herself back against him as he soon began to increase his speed, balls slapping against her pussy from behind.  

Tav continued to cry out, the sensation was a strange mix of discomfort and pleasure which just increased each time he pushed in deeper. Astarion slid one of his arms underneath her chest, almost immediately toying with one of her tits.  With his free hand he gently grasped her hair, hips smacking against her ass cheeks with a satisfying clap that echoed throughout the cave. 

“Star…. Astarion….Ahh…” Tav groaned feeling the vampire spawn press his lips to her neck.

“Yes, keep going love. You're cries sound so sweet.” He said, running his tongue along her neck before gently nibbling and sucking on it.

Tav grunted and whined, pushing back against him, trying to match his pace as he pounded her ass. Astarion eventually pulled away from her neck, leaving a bright red hickey on it before he pulled Tav's hair, making her look at him.

“Kiss me, my pet.” He commanded. Tav quickly turned her head pressed her lips to his, her tongue sliding across his bottom lip before being greeted with his. Astarion shoved his tongue into her mouth eagerly. “Mmmmm…” 

~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The next morning Lae’zel woke the group up bright and early. She was very eager to get on the road and search for any sign of her kin. Karlach and the others all began to take down their tents and pack away their things before Wyll took notice of Astarion’s tent still standing up.

“Has anyone seen Astarion or Tav?” He asked aloud.

“Gods, I hope he hasn't finally gone and drained her dry.” Gale said aloud.

“Oh I doubt that. It's more likely she drained him.” Shadowheart chimed in. The others looked at her in confusion before she guestured towards a path away from camp. 

Astarion walked up with a pleased smirk on his face. He was positively glowing. Meanwhile Tav limped behind him, hair messy, red marks on her neck as she let out a yawn. 

“Good..*yawn*... Morning everyone.” She rubbed her eyes before moving over towards Astarion’s stool and taking a seat. She yelped before quickly standing up, gently rubbing her bottom.

“Rough night soldier?” Karlach asked with a smirk.

“I..uh…Sorta…” Tav looked down at her feet. 

“Good gods Astarion, what did you do to her!?” Gale looked over at Astarion with suspicion.

“Nothing she didn't enjoy immensely.” Astarion smirked before glancing down at his nails. 

END

[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not jonathan

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'no upside down au' rated t wc: 997 cw: recreational drug use, language tags: meet-ugly turned meet-cute, flirting, somewhat ambiguous ending but we all know what's gonna happen

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

Steve was not supposed to be the one picking up the drugs for the party.

He wasn't even going to the party.

But Jonathan couldn't get it from his usual guy, said he was back home in California for the summer, and it wasn't like Robin had a hookup.

Eddie Munson didn't technically deal anymore, but he made exceptions for previous customers, and Jonathan had been a regular during high school.

It wasn't shocking news to Steve, but what was shocking was hearing all these stories about how Eddie didn't even usually meet someone during daylight hours. Except today, apparently.

Steve tripped over another branch, barely caught himself before falling on his face.

"I better get so high off this shit," he said to himself.

"I only sell the good shit."

Steve froze.

Somehow, he'd missed a person walking up to him, probably when he nearly ate dirt.

"Is there any reason a hike is required to get some weed?" Steve asked, brushing his hands on his pants to get the remnants of the tree trunk he saved himself on.

Eddie crossed his arms in front of him, raising an unimpressed brow.

"No. Jonathan suggested the place."

Hard to believe the guy who hated being outside for more than a few minutes would have suggested a half mile trek into the woods, but Steve didn't really care to argue.

"O...kay. Well, I've got the cash if you wanna get this over with," Steve said as he reached into his pockets that were..."Fuck."

He started patting his pockets, his shirt, looking around him at the ground to try to find his wallet.

"Everything okay?" Eddie asked, coming closer.

"I lost my wallet. Shit!"

"Alright, I can help you look, man. It's not a big deal. Gotta be somewhere, right?" Eddie started looking around him, though it was half-hearted at best. "What's it look like?"

"It's brown. Um, leather?" Steve suddenly forgot any other details about his wallet. How convenient.

"Okay, so the color of the ground. Should be easy."

Steve snorted.

Eddie was smirking as he walked the way Steve came, checking the ground around him as he did so.

Steve followed behind, but he was pretty certain they wouldn't find it.

After ten minutes of looking, Eddie sighed.

"We should just smoke a bit. Take the edge off. Ya know?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I can't pay you until I find my wallet," Steve said as he continued looking, bending down to get a closer look at a spot that seemed like the color of his wallet.

"On the house."

Steve stood straight up.

"Really?"

"Can't really kick ya when you're down, can I? Plus, I planned on smoking after you left anyway. We can share," Eddie shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Steve had never gotten high outside of house parties, the comfort of his own home or a friend's home soothing his anxieties about losing his inhibitions.

But out here? With Eddie? It didn't seem like a smart thing to do.

"Alright," Steve shrugged back.

Eddie must have sensed something about him, though, because he didn't let him take more than three puffs of the joint before he put it out and found a collection of boulders for them to sit on.

"You ever think about how trees are alive but they don't have ears?" Steve asked a minute later.

"Oh, you're that kind of high." Eddie poked his hand, making him look over at him. "You eat today?"

"Maybe. I've been busy. Do you think trees get hungry?" Steve replied.

Eddie searched his face before letting his pinky rest against Steve's hand on the rock.

It felt like fire.

"They do."

"But they don't have pancakes or cheeseburgers. Like, we can't grind it up and put it in the dirt for them, right?" Steve's jaw dropped. "Can we?"

Eddie watched as Steve looked over at some of the trees surrounding them.

"I don't think we can, no."

"A shame. They're missin' out. You know who else is missin' out? Jonathan! He made me come here and he didn't even tell me you had long hair or like the nicest eyelashes. Which is weird because he didn't shut up about anything else about you but he forgot about the eyelashes!" Steve's hand curled around Eddie's pinky. "And you look warm."

Eddie's brows raised.

He wasn't sure who Steve was. Jonathan had just insisted he was cool.

But Jonathan hadn't mentioned that his hair looked softer than silk, or that his eyes were wide and innocent despite his lip curling up in the corner in annoyance.

Jonathan seemed to have left a lot of things out.

"Well, it is summer. It's pretty warm," Eddie gulped. "But you do look a little cold."

"I get cold easy. Robin says it's because I don't eat enough red meat or something. Low irony or something."

Eddie was so endeared.

"I could help you stay warm? Walk you back to your car if you want?"

Eddie did not want that, but he knew Steve probably needed to walk off some of this high before his friends started to worry about him.

"Don't wanna walk," Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "My head is walking."

"Should I try to head back and get one of your friends?"

Steve shook his head.

"Be fine in an hour."

"Okay," Eddie put his arm around Steve's shoulder, surprised to find that Steve was shivering. "Hey, you okay?"

"You do have good shit."

"That's not an answer," Eddie chuckled.

"I'm good. Best."

Eddie let him burrow further into his side and waited for his shivering to subside before he suggested heading back to his car again.

Steve still refused, and Eddie didn't have it in him to push.

Not when they were finding shapes in the clouds and he was holding Steve close.

He'd definitely owe Jonathan a lot of product if this went the way he wanted it to.

[broidobe]

𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢

requested by🐈!! RAHH MORE BILL BAILEY. oh and yes, im reusing photos cuuz...theres nothing else to pick from...

this is a lovely little part three to my bill bailey series which is linked in the masterlist below :)

☾bill takes you to his favorite park after school, where you skip rocks, share cherries, and open up about his home life before sharing your first kiss.☽

☾warnings: mild discussion of home life struggles, brief mention of food (cherries), light romantic tension☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

the afternoon sun painted golden streaks through the trees as bill led you through the park, his fingers loosely intertwined with yours. school had been the usual drag, but the second you both stepped off campus, he’d perked up, telling you he had a place he wanted to take you. now, surrounded by chirping birds and the scent of fresh grass, you were glad you’d agreed.

"this place is kinda nice, huh?" bill mused, kicking at a stray pebble on the dirt path.

"it’s beautiful," you said, eyes scanning the towering trees, the benches scattered along the trail, and in the distance, the glimmer of a pond.

bill grinned. "thought you might like it. i used to come here a lot as a kid. still do, when i need to clear my head."

you both reached the pond’s edge, where the water lapped gently against the rocks. without hesitation, bill crouched down, searching for a smooth, flat stone. you followed suit, picking one up and running your fingers over its cool surface.

"ever skipped rocks before?" he asked.

"a few times, but i suck at it," you admitted.

bill smirked, standing up and tossing his stone. it hit the water with a single plop. he scowled. "well, that was pathetic."

you laughed, winding up your arm and attempting your own throw. your stone barely bounced before sinking.

"damn," you muttered.

"eh, at least yours did better than mine," bill said, nudging you with his elbow. "beginner’s luck."

a comfortable silence fell between you both as you continued to collect stones, tossing them into the water and watching the ripples they left behind. after a while, you turned to him.

"bill, can i ask you something?"

he flicked a rock into the water, keeping his gaze on the rippling surface. "shoot."

"i was just wondering… do you think i could meet your parents sometime?"

bill stiffened slightly. he tossed another rock before wiping his hands on his jeans. "uh… probably not a good idea. not right now, anyway."

you frowned. "oh. okay."

he glanced at you and sighed. "it’s not that i don’t want you to. just… my home life’s kinda messy. don’t wanna drag you into all that."

you nodded, understanding. "i get it. but… maybe someday?"

his lips twitched into a small smile. "yeah. someday."

you let the subject drop, standing up and brushing dirt off your pants. bill followed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "c’mon. wanna check out the trail?"

as you walked, the two of you fell into easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing. bill cracked a few dumb jokes that had you rolling your eyes, but you still laughed, making his chest puff out a little in satisfaction.

then, just off the path, you spotted it—a cherry tree, its branches heavy with ripe fruit.

"look at that," bill said, stepping closer. "free meal."

you snorted. "you really live on the edge, huh?"

"hey, when you’re broke, you take what you can get."

you reached up, plucking a cherry from a low-hanging branch and popping it into your mouth. bill did the same, biting down and immediately wincing.

"ugh, sour as hell," he muttered, making a face.

"mine’s sweet," you said with a smirk, grabbing another and holding it out to him. "try this one."

he leaned in, lips brushing against your fingers as he took it from your hand. your breath caught for a moment, but you quickly recovered, watching as he chewed thoughtfully.

"not bad," he admitted.

"told you."

you continued plucking cherries, eating them in between teasing each other about who had picked the best ones. when your hands were sufficiently sticky with juice, you wandered over to a nearby bench, plopping down beside bill with a satisfied sigh.

for a moment, neither of you spoke, just enjoying the rustling leaves and the occasional distant quack of a duck from the pond. then, bill shifted beside you, tapping his fingers against his knee.

"hey," he said softly. "you know you’re… real special to me, right?"

your heart skipped. "i was kinda hoping so. you’re special to me too."

he looked at you then, his dark eyes warm in the fading sunlight. "good. ‘cause i dunno what i’d do without you."

before you could respond, bill leaned in, hesitating just enough to give you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. instead, you closed the distance, lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft, a little uncertain, but perfect all the same.

when you pulled back, bill exhaled a small laugh, his forehead resting against yours. "finally," he murmured.

"shut up," you whispered, grinning.

he only laughed again, reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. and as the sun dipped below the trees, the two of you sat there, savoring the moment, the taste of cherries still lingering on your lips.

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (19)

***

Benzo accuses them of being joined at the hip and he's not exactly wrong. Those first few weeks of sleeping in that shack, camping out on dirt floors with only a few blankets, he and Silco are barely separated. They end every shift in the mess hall, eating together. With an indulgent smile, Silco will sit there for hours, watching Vander drinking with his friends, scribbling down notes and figures in a small book.

They'll head down to the old mine shafts before curfew, and enjoy the privacy. By dim lantern light, Vander will peel the clothes from Silco's skinny body, will press him down into the blankets and bite and kiss until there's a patchwork of red marks across Silco's chest and thighs. Until Silco has his head turned to the side, panting, whining high in his throat.

They lose hours to that skin-drunk debauchery. Kissing as if it's as vital as breathing, hands desperate for bare skin. He discovers Silco hates having his feet touched and will lash out with vicious kicks if tickled. That his hands almost cover Silco's narrow shoulders, that if he works the tense muscles there, Silco will moan like one of Babette's best. That Silco likes climbing onto his lap, using his body weight to pin down Vander's thighs as they kiss. That he likes fisting Vander's hair to control where he wants him, and that Vander likes that too.

It's intoxicating and new. More than once, Vander's woken up to find Silco already awake, body curled against him for warmth, and started kissing him – even knowing they won't have time to do much before they need to be dressed and heading to the courtyard, to the wash rooms and mess hall.

It's that foolish hunger for more of Silco's time that has Vander volunteering for level three shifts. Silco laughs at him, jokes that Vander's shoulders won't even fit in those tunnels, but he quickly claims Vander as a partner when the work is assigned.

They make a good pair. Vander digs cracks into the bedrock by sheer force, and then Silco shimmies into the narrow gap, laying explosive charges as deep as he can reach. On one, Silco has to crawl inside the rock, on his elbows and belly, until only his ankles poke out.

"I'm setting the charge," Silco calls out, voice muffled and full of strange echoes. "Go back to the main branch and wait there."

Vander saw how long it took Silco to climb in. He knows how short the fuses are. ("Miners are cheaper than fuses," Silco had said in that sly, judgemental way of his.) He doesn't like Silco's chances of getting clear of the blast.

Wrapping hand around each of Silco's ankles, Vander says, "Tell me when it's set and I'll pull you out."

Silco grumbles something that gets lost in the rocks, and then, "Get ready."

After a count of three he calls out, "Done!" and Vander pulls back as hard as he can. He gets an arm around Silco's waist when it's free, and then he's half carrying and half dragging Silco back out of the new tunnel.

He pins Silco against the wall, shielding him as the explosion rings out, a boom followed by the rumble of rocks falling and moving. Unfortunately, his body doesn't realise it's just a safety precaution. No, his body only knows he's pressed up against Silco's, with too much clothing between them. It's mortifying how quickly it gets him hard.

Vander drops his head to Silco's shoulder when he hears Silco chuckle.

"You have terrible timing," Silco whispers into his ear, warmly amused. He slides fingers under the kerchief tied around Vander's neck, brushing the skin in a soothing tease. "You'll have to wait until tonight."

"Tonight," Vander promises and then they get back to work.

***

[dadsbongos]

mean blonde <3s war crimes

2.2k words / warnings - pav is a bad terrible no good person, predator/prey dynamic, noncon, gunplay, coercion, age gap (pav's ~37 and reader is ~20)

summary - your old bootcamp lieutenant, Pavel Yudin, comes to your hometown to give you a second chance at joining the good ole army! By chasing you through the woods.

kinktober: day fourteen - hunting, gunplay ~~~

Grey skies rolled overhead that morning with no clouds. None of the birds were singing, but the crickets were still loud. Children ran circles in their backyards, chasing one another with leafless sticks and shrill screams. Your father sat on the front porch, rocking slowly in his chair as he twiddled his guitar. 

There was no breeze. And you couldn’t smell the sweet dew lingering in the air. 

In short: you should’ve known something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Papa stood straight up when he saw the sleek black car kick dust into the center of town. Guitar clattering and cracking down the porch steps, he rasped out a desperate, “Take yourself inside, now.”

“Huh?” you rose slowly from where you’d been tending Mama’s tomatoes, “Why?”

Neighbors pile out curiously as one car curls to a stop with a second. First to pop open is the initial car’s back door, and you see why your father was so spooked. Golden coils catch pale sunlight, porcelain cheeks flashing your home, and rosy lips pucker up at you from the center of the isolated neighborhood. 

“Hell, kid,” Papa murmurs, shooting you a glance through his peripherals. Partly annoyed, but mostly raw concern.

Red dirt road flakes around the soldier’s boots, his steps echo through the still air. Eyes follow his leisure pace, an overconfident swagger that makes your whole body raze with bumps. 

“I believe you have a runaway,” Lieutenant Yudin’s steely eyes flick from Papa to you.

Even as Papa starts talking, the man’s stare does not drift, “Kid ain’t a deserter, they graduated the program. I’m not sending my baby off to die.”

“Baby’s an adult,” Pavel shrugs, “We’re performing a simple sweep. We’ll have them back by the end of the day.”

Papa shakes his head, hands raising in protest, “No. No, no! You stay back, you devil! Any lieutenant beside you! Who else is in the car?” he demands, “Who else?!”

“Nobody,” Pavel turns his head directly toward you, and you remember the countless uncanny meals in the cadet canteen where that same glass face was watching you eat. He boldly steps onto the stoop before your father, kicking his guitar out of the way, “I’m not leaving empty-handed. Kaiser’s orders.”

Just as your fathers goes to respond, you stumble forward and jam yourself between the men, “I’ll go!” you frown, shoulders tensing as you avoid looking Papa in his disappointed face, “I’ll go, please leave my family be…”

Pavel grins at you and holds out a hand, “Let us go, then.”

Papa makes a strangled sound of protest from the back of his throat, silenced when you shyly tuck yourself down the stairs into Pavel’s chest. Head down and arms twisted around your torso as you’re lead to the shiny black car -- Pavel does not stop by any other houses. Despite knowing your boy next door was probably a better fit, and had graduated from the same camp, Pavel doesn’t so much as glance his house’s way. 

Unease wells within you as he opens the car door for you, then sliding in after. You attempt to wriggling away into the next seat over, only for Pavel to swing an arm around your shoulder and hook your chin with his thumb and forefinger. Angling your vision over his broad chest and out the side window, he strokes your jaw affectionately.

And you can feel his chest vibrate as he speaks in a low murmur, “I was very young when I came to the army.”

His opposite hand comes up, index tapping on the glass as the car comfortably strolls by lush trees; he leaves an off-white smudge behind on the otherwise crystal pane.

“Very, very far away I was conscious for not even a decade before having to become a man. And I work very hard to ensure nobody else must go through that same thing,” where he’d been pointing you make out a fox chasing a chestnut rabbit through thick bushes. You’re surprised neither was scared off, even if the engine was merely at a soft hum with its slow pace, “I’ve been working since I was younger than you, and I’ve been through much more than you.”

You’re certain he has.

Two silvery scars dot his chest. And his eyes are constantly glazed and faraway, even as he speaks directly. He smells sad, like mold and dust. He’s in his late thirties, and he’s been a loyal soldier since he was a boy.

The fox pounces onto the rabbit -snatching the smaller thing in its jaws and rolling with the momentum. Shaking its head violently until blood flecks the dirt road and spring leaves and the rabbit stops twitching.

Laying its kill onto the ground, the fox digs in with bared teeth.

“When I was younger than you, I had soldiers try themselves with me,” his thumb presses a bit harder against your jawbone, then quickly releasing and smoothing over the tender line apologetically, “I’m a very wounded man, as all men like me are. And I’m not a very good man, like most men like me aren’t. Most people that crawl out of Bremen bootcamps do not come out good people.”

Just as you’re wondering where this rant is going, the car rolls to a stop.

Pavel tilts your head so you’re gazing up at him, his eyes are dull as always and his lids hang low -nefarious yet tired- “But you are, you’re very good. Very kind. The world spits in your face and you bare it. You were drafted and you bare it. Your father falls terminally ill and you bare it. You’re harassed and stalked months on end by a superior officer and you bare it. You are so mild, and so bland, I cannot look at you and see a soldier despite your average success in training.”

Popping the door open, Pavel slinks out with an offered hand and you politely take it which only makes him laugh. He squeezes your hand,

“See? I was never so kind to the men that tried themselves with me.”

Finally looking around, you notice a long downward hill before your feet. Trees cluster any free path and overgrown stumps choke out the clotted dirt ground. Untempered grass lays still with the lack of breeze.

“I’m a bad person, and I love pretty things,” Pavel murmurs, “I don’t know why I have this itch to destroy them,” and finally, the proper amount of dread fills you as you really lock eyes with the lieutenant, “I think I’m just angry at them for being able to be pretty and gentle.”

Knees wobbling, you throw yourself down the hill and scream.

Pavel follows with a careful step-by-step.

Whether it be adrenaline or hot fear, you cannot feel any pain as you recklessly swipe branches and bushes out of sight. Searing sweat tickles down the plain of your neck, trickling along your spine and watering dead leaves below. Paranoia assures you his gloved fingertips are just at the wrinkled collar of your shirt.

Regardless of how nature seems to whizz by and the wind flapping rapidly in your ears you know you aren’t running fast enough.

You know your burning legs are too slow and you know he’s going to catch you and he’s going to eat you alive.

You’re too terrified to cast a glance back, certain the second you do you’ll trip over an especially thick root. But you think you can hear his boots crunching into a steady run after you. 

His even breathing slowly overbears your own ragged heaves, only seconding the belief he’s at your heels. 

Screaming again is only met with more gravely cackles.

Nails scrape into your hair. You shriek.

He pounces, launching off his heels and wrapping both arms around your waist in a vice clamp and chomping into the side of your neck. Sucking as he latches, a faint sting swells up the side of your throat. Nothing compared to the lashes and whipping your back takes with each roll down the hill. Grunts and wails echo between nonchalant trees, none of which are helpful as you pointlessly claw against Pavel’s padded shoulders.

Tumbling into a fitful, struggled stop at the base curve of the hill, you try in vain to kick Pavel off of you. Which proves useless as he merely presses one hand into your torso to keep you pinned. His bigger frame shows little sign of stress as he frees his Lugr pistol from his side and digs the frozen metal into your ribs.

A wild twitch sends you bucking up against him. Fear forcing you to throw away logic as you thrash beneath him.

“No, no, nonono, please- I beg! I beg of you, please no don’t- I don’t want to die, I beg of you please!” your hands fly up to Pavel’s face, instinct telling you to scratch out his eyes.

Pavel replaces his hand on your stomach with a knee before snatching both your wrists in his hand and strapping them above your head. Forcing your faces much closer. His nose bumping yours.

“Calm,” he hums, digging the muzzle into your ribs before dragging downward and catching the band of your trousers. Dragging those down as well. Bare flesh sizzles in the open air.

So you chomp onto your lip, taking in the velvety iron and gnawing still to keep quiet.

All while Pavel stiffs his pistol between your legs. 

“Too slow, too slow, bunny,” he presses a startlingly tender kiss to your temple.

Despite your shivering, he manages to wriggle the freezing barrel against the seam of your cunt. Slipping it between your folds longways, twiddling your clit at the same time teasing your hole. A sudden jerky click makes you shudder, gasping into the column of the lieutenant’s throat -- fear paralyzes your hands in the collar of his bridge coat.

Your sole assurance you won’t be shot is the ease with which Pavel wields his pistol, an extension of his own hand. It must be familiar. And if you are shot, it’ll be on purpose.

Digging the muzzle inside you, Pavel releases a pleasured groan when you shriek and seize around the unforgiving metal. Grinding down against your thigh, Pavel seasons your pulse with hot pants -- flicking his wrist until the trigger guard is tight beneath you. Leaking syrup drools over his fingers, gluing his pointer over the trigger. A sick grin smears over his pale lips.

“You like this?”

“No!”

His eyes fall where you’re polishing his pistol, as the barrel drills into you with sultry little splats. Regardless of what your pretty mouth says, he knows your body loves him: that’s all he needs. Hips even dangerously jutting out to meet his tentative thrusts. You mewl beneath your breath at the intrusion, choking it down with a grunt.

Cold, hard metal prods spots deeper inside you than yourself or any town boy has ever reached. You hate how good it feels, but you can’t suppress the tightening of your stomach.

“You like this,” he kisses you again, slipping his tongue into your gritted mouth and licking over your teeth, “I love you. So soft and gentle, you’re perfect for me.”

Slipping the gun from your snatch, he openly laughs in your face at how you cling unto the barrel.

“I take it you don’t plan on returning to the ranks,” he sits upon his knees, scouring the muzzle up your stomach -lifting your shirt- and pushing beneath your jaw. Icing the sharp bone until it's peeking past your lips.

You can taste the sharpness of your own wetness swirling with metal.

“Shame for me,” he sighs wistfully, angling the gun deeper in your mouth. Not bothering to adjust his pants and hide his evident, swelling arousal as your tongue envelopes the muzzle. His spare hand squeezes up your thigh, thumb stretching over to circle your clit, “Probably best for you, though.”

Weak legs cannot snap to kick him off, you fear it’d be a pointless effort anyway.

Pavel leans over you, slipping his gun from your mouth slowly -- an intentional drag to tease himself. Immediately pushing his lips to yours with a starved growl, his brows furrowed desperately and cheeks flaming against yours. Not unlike a fretful boy, he shyly pulls back to lay another peck on your forehead and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Watching you struggle for air between flustered huffs, he stands fully and retucks his Lugr.

“Let’s get you home,” another hand is offered toward you, broad shoulders pushed back confidently. His strong nose pointed up at you, “I don’t expect we’ll see each other often, Kaiser is plotting East and I’m going to give chase.”

Tears sting your eyes, and you sniffle, shakily reaching up for the blonde and letting him tug you upward. He wrings both arms around you and kisses your forehead eerily sentimental -- familiar like a proper lover.

“I don’t expect to be well received when I do,” he whispers.

Then kisses your lips, hot and chapped and fiercely tight-lipped. 

“I wish I could be free like you,” he muses, “And kind.”

“You’re a monster- !” you shudder and gasp, shoving him by the shoulders -surprisingly, he lets you go until you’re floundering back into a strong tree trunk, “I hope you die out there!”

Pavel nods and turns away. The car door is open by time you’ve struggled up the hill. No birds sing. There is no breeze. You cannot smell the iron and sweat from yourself.

You should’ve known things with Pavel would never get any better.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

more jason and science experiment please <3

Jason kept his distance, creeping as quietly through the woods as he could. Watching Dick's headlamp bob along. He didn't seem to be in a hurry. Nothing seemed to be urgent, not really. It was pretty warm still, so. Even if you were out here somewhere you probably weren't gonna freeze to death or anything.

Still.

It was far off the marked trails. So far the groundskeepers probably hadn't been back here for decades, if ever. Old growth, fallen logs, slick rocks- it would take sure footing to get back here. Miles out from anything in any direction.

And when Dick finally stopped Jason crept slowly closer. "You lost it good this time, huh?" Dick said, whistling as he ducked under a low branch.

Jason stayed near the shadows close to the clearing and peered between the trees. A small fire was dying; its embers cast shimmering light in the pitch black. He couldn't tell if the bark had been torn off the trees or not. But your hand that dangled limply from the hammock was cut, bruised, and bloody. In the light from Dick's headlamp, it looked like a struggle happened. But. Dick didn't seem concerned.

"Stop being creepy and come help," Dick said, kicking dirt over the last embers and jerking his head to your pack.

"What happened?" Jason asked, glancing around, the back of his neck pricking. He glanced down at you. You're so still. So fucking still and Dick's folded your arm's over your chest to be able to pick you up. You look like a corpse. But he can see the dirt under your nails and on your face. Tear tracks and snot that left smears of mud behind in your hair and on your clothes as you tried to wipe it away.

"Sometimes the only way for her to stay in control is to lose control for a while," Dick said sadly and petting your hair. "You're okay, We're just going to take you up to your room, 'kay? It's supposed to storm or we'd just leave you be."

"It's no-"

Dick shot Jason a look. They were never sure what you understood or remembered. But. He felt bad just invading your little sanctuary.

"Can you carry her?" Dick asked, shoving your blanket and your shoes in your bag with the snacks you didn't eat and looking around for the water bottle. "I can get us back faster. I dunno how she does it."

Jason nodded mutely and picked you up carefully. Making sure your head is supported on his shoulder, "Sorry about this," he said quietly. "Your hands look like they hurt." And when you shift in your sleep, he swallowed hard. Trying to focus on the smell of the woods and think about anything other than how eerie it was to think about you tearing yourself apart in the woods. He already woke you up once today. He didn't think he'd get away with it a second time.

[strange-dreams-are-made-of-these]

Playing Games With This Old Heart

Summary: You need to make cash fast after losing your job. After stumbling on a job, you can't help but to think about your first customer. And he can't get you out of his head.

Warnings: no smut, no fluff, still MDNI as this will be a planned series, canon typical violence, hints of death of a loved one (prior to story), animal death (bear), angst, Female Mutant!Reader with regenerative healing factor.

A/N: It's been two years since ive poste dont his account, so i hope you guys wont hold that against me. Please take this sample of a fic with our favorite X-Man.

Word Count: 4.7 k words

The days were shifting between the long summer heat and a cooler breeze as the leaves started to change from their usual green and full thick coverings to reds, yellows, and browns before leaving their life-sustaining tree and falling to the ground. There was something subtle about the sound of leaves crunching under ones footstep that somehow felt calming. The ground around your home was littered with the fine needles of the Douglas Fir trees that had a very distinct pine smell to them. It was a welcoming smell for you, having lived the majority of your life in rural Montana, the fresh smell of pine felt like home.

The colorful coat of the Maine Coon cat you owned stood out against the green throw blanket placed on the couch, the place he dubbed his spot. His name was Felix and he had been your fury best friend of nearly six years now. He showed up one day on your doorstep when it was raining with his mother. Not knowing much about cats, but knowing they were hungry, you couldn't help but open the last can of tuna you had in your pantry, draining it of its liquid before setting it out for the mother and son cats to eat. His mother trusted you enough to leave her son with you before leaving, never to be seen again. You often wondered what happened to the little minx of a feline, though you were happy to assure her you could take care of her baby.

"Okay, Felix. I'm going into town. Don't miss me too bad while I'm gone, okay?" You chuckle a little watching him as he stretches out, adjusting your jacket in the process. With keys in hand, wallet in your warm coat, and a fully charged phone, you left your home. Your next-door neighbor was only five miles away, as was his other neighbor. The only thing you had to worry about here were bears, mountain lions, and wolves showing up unannounced during meal times. Thankfully the only time you spotted any of the three was during their migration journeys at quite the distance from your porch to the open land headed out toward the lake where they could get their fill of fresh fish and other small creatures that dwelled there.

You kept your distance, you respected their space, and in turn, they stayed away from you. Just how it should have been.

Hoping into your truck, an old one of your father's, you kick it into gear and leave your driveway. The roads were bumpy as the broken rock and dirt shifted under the weight of the truck, bouncing you a little as you made the drive into town. There were a few things you needed to make it through the week: gasoline, and a refill of your water containers. One was used for cooking and drinking, one was used for bathing, and the third was the backup. Being out in these parts, you had to prepare for the unthinkable. Trees block major routes to give supplies, unpredictable weather, and supply shortages.

Another thing you would have liked to get was a fresh cut of meat for dinner. Depending on what was at the store would determine the dinner in store for you. Grilled fish? sounded nice. A steak could have been as equally nice to eat.

Though, there was another reason for your outing today. Since Mr. Kirkwood had sold his farm, you had been out of a job and had been running low on funds. You had to find a job today, any job. Anything that would provide you cash for hard work to continue to provide for yourself and Felix. Stocking shelves at the only grocery store in town? Perfect! Cutting down trees for the logging company? You're the girl for the job, nevermind you have never cut a vertical tree before, only when they were already grounded.

You just needed any job, one that you can continue to live your life.

--

Parking the truck, you walked to the bed, picking up the water containers, two in one hand and the third in the other. Thankfully there had been a man coming out of the store, seeing your hands full he held it open for you. You thanked him, recognizing him as one of your father's old co-workers. You nodded to each other, letting him go back to his day as you entered the door.

"There she is, I was wondering when you would be coming back. I hadn't seen you in a few days," came the beckoning voice of the store's owner, Mr. Morgan. He was almost like an uncle to all of the younger people in town, being about thirty-five and younger. You were toward the older end of his infinite nieces and nephews, though he would swear you were his favorite.

"I was able to get an extra day or two in on my stock. I call that quite the accomplishment."

"Did you make it last longer, or did you go without longer than usual?" He questioned you, peering over his glass at you as you set the water containers down. He knew what your current situation was, but at the end of the day, he still had a business to run. "I can't do anything for you today until you pay your tab." He was serious, but he had a little glint in his eye as if letting a loved one down.

You looked at him, your once welcoming face now placid. "Mr. Morgan, please. You know I'm good for the money." you fished around in your jacket, pulling out the last thirty-seven dollars and change you had. You knew it wouldn't cover your tab plus what you needed, but you also knew he had a business to run. "I just need a little more time. And some supplies. Please."

It was a plea, a simple one. Though you knew he was the holder behind how the rest of your week was going to go. "I'll stock shelves for you to pay the rest of my tab. I'll scrub the floors with a toothbrush. I'm willing to work."

He took his glasses off, looking at the cash in front of him. He didn't want to see anybody struggling, but he couldn't ignore his debts. He shuffled the money around, taking thirty dollars for himself and handing you the seven dollars and change back. "I can't afford to add anybody else to my payroll, or else I would. You can have one water refill, a full tank of gas, and some cat food. Nothing more."

You stared at him, lips parted as if to protest the money exchange, but the sound of the bells chiming against the door flooded those thoughts. You reached for the cash, scooping the change into your hand. All you could muster was a simple "Thank you." Moving the water containers to the side, you placed two of the containers into the designated area, then took one to the refill station, and filled the water container.

You had to figure something out and fast.

--

A newly filled water container was placed in the truck bed, a full tank of gas in your truck, and a sack of wet and dry cat food sat on the passenger floorboard. Looking around the small main street of the town where ninety percent of the town's businesses resided, you decided to leave your truck where it was. You were on the hunt for a job, and you were damn determined to find employment by the end of the day.

You used your side view mirror to make sure your hair looked fine, adjusting the collar of your jacket and shirt, you straightened up peering back at the main street. The best way to start job hunting was to start at the end of the street and work your way back down, entering every business you spotted. The good thing about small towns was all you needed was to name-drop a couple of people, resumes didn't hold up well.

The bad thing about small towns was that everybody needed work. Store owner after store owner denied your requests. The pawn shop wasn't looking for new employees, the liquor store had too many employees as is, and the antiquities store only hired their family members. The options were dwindling down, and soon you were nervous you were going to have to find a creative way to make money or even worse, entertain the thought of being a lot lizard.

The only two businesses left were the diner on the right side of the street and the motel at the end of the road. Either of them could have positions open, yet they could also deny you a job opening. You had to hope they had an opening somewhere, knowing you were not creative enough to make and sell items for cash. You didn't own many items to sell, beyond the couch, a cot you used to sleep on, and the few little trinkets you received when her father died. The most expensive item you owned was more than likely the truck, and selling it would mean nearly desertion at your home.

Without another thought, you crossed the street as a logging truck passed in front of you. You made some eye contact with the driver, making sure you waited until he drove in front of you before crossing the street.

As you pushed open the doors of the diner, a woman ten years your senior greeted you. "Have a seat wherever you want, sweetheart."

You crossed the room, taking a seat in front of her as she cleaned the counter space. "I know you are busy, and I don't want to take up too much of your time. I'm looking for a job. Mr. Morgan told me you might have something open here?"

The woman looked up from her work, eyeing you down after you mentioned Mr. Morgan. Her ginger curly hair cascaded down her shoulders as she shifted her weight. "Mr. Morgan, huh?" It was hard to tell by her expression, but she seemed to be thinking about something.

The door opened again, and a young blonde woman entered appearing slightly disheveled as if she had just woken up. "I'm here, Rebecca."

The woman in front of you, Rebecca as you read the name tag, turned her body toward the younger woman, then looked to the clock. She placed one hand on her hip. "Only two hours late." She looked between you and the woman, a mischievous look in her eyes. "I told you, show up on time or don't show up at all."

The blonde woman huffed a little, crossing her arms. "It's not like anybody else wants this job."

Rebecca smirked, walking around the counter toward the woman. "Actually she does." She was quick to snatch the apron from the blonde woman. "Clean your uniform and have it dropped by the end of the week, then you will get your check." She then tossed the apron to you, catching it effortlessly.

The blonde huffed, storming out of the diner and throwing a couple of curses in the air. "Your shift starts now. Take a menu, and study it between customers. Orders go to Big Ben. Don't ask us why we call him that and don't make any eye contact. Burgers are made to order, the soup of the day is Italian wedding, and you can give me your jacket."

Her orders came quickly as you stood up, removing your jacket and tying the apron around your waist. There had been a little notebook in the apron and a pen, thankfully saving your ass as you wrote down the notes she gave you. The doorbell rang again, the older woman looked at you with a questionable look. That was your cue, time to work. "Take a seat wherever you want." You nodded, taking a menu in your hands and walking up to your first-ever customer.

--

As his boots made contact with the ground below him, the man took a moment to adjust his shoulders, rolling them a couple of times as he stretched. He could have sworn the truck cabs were getting smaller and smaller, almost feeling his head touch the rooftop. At least he could rest comfortably during his lunch break. He had contemplated having a liquid diet for lunch paired with a cigar, but the smell of greasy burgers filled his nostrils. Tucking the keys of the truck in his vest pocket, Logan walked toward to diner.

He passed by an unruly blonde woman, muttering under her breath about being fired barely filling his ears. He persisted in, entering the diner. Not looking up, he heard the greeting offered to him, hearing two different footsteps filling the diner. One was the small heels clicking against the tile floors. The other was boots muffled against the tile. A small pair of hands moved to set a menu down in front of him, along with what looked like one single-ply napkin and a fork. "What can I get started for you?"

Logan still hadn't looked up yet, looking at the laminated two-sided menu in front of him. "Coffee." He blurted, though wishing he could have an iced beer with his food. The woman left his table, rounding the counter and finding the coffee pot and cups. A minute may have passed by as he scanned the menu. He wasn't that much of a picky eater, as long as it used to have a heartbeat, he was fine.

The mug was set down in front of him, steam rolling off the black liquid. "I'll have the cheeseburger and fries." He picked up the menu, handing it back to the waitress. That was when he finally turned to look at her, remembering her as the woman who crossed the street behind him. She didn't seem to be dressed for work, not like the other woman who was behind the counter now fiddling with some dishes.

"You got it." She left the table, and walked over to the window, setting a ticket in the designated space that the other woman told her about. His hand wrapped around the mug in front of him, looking outside as he silently observed the town. He was in this stretch of land only long enough to get him enough cash to figure out his next move. He didn't like to stay in the same place too long, maybe a year or two at most. He didn't mind the small circles running in this part of the state, but he knew that if he wanted to go somewhere else he would have to figure it out soon before the snow moved in.

What felt like ten minutes had passed before the woman came back, setting his plate in front of him. "Can I get you anything else?"

He shook his head, brushing her off. As she left, she could smell a strong scent of pine around her, as if she herself was a pine tree. It wasn't a disheartening smell, something he actually liked.

Another set of diners came in, sitting a few booths behind Logan. As he ate his food all he could hear was her voice, despite there being a total of seven beings in the diner he could hear. Somehow her voice was the loudest in his mind. Not the heartbeats of the seven people, not his heartbeat, not her heartbeat. Her voice.

As he finished the food in front of him, she walked over to him, leaving his ticket and grabbing the empty plate. "Do you want a cup for the road?"

He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a billfold. "Yeah, sounds good."

She returned with his to-go coffee, handing it over to him as he left cash on the table, adjusting his shirt collar. "Here, let me get your change."

"Keep it." He walked out of the diner, making a bee-line for his truck, fighting everything in him to talk to her again. Little did he know, that wasn't going to be their only interaction for the day.

--

The daylight began to dissipate, street lights were turning on and the neon signs from the only bar in town began to glow. Rebecca presented to you with a powder blue uniform dress. The diner and the employees looked as if they hadn't left the fifties, just as the regular customers liked to relive. "You did good, peanut. The job is yours. Your next shift is tomorrow, Nine to five, be here no less than ten minutes before clocking in tomorrow. I'll have some shoes for you. Can't have my girls in boots for service."

You took the uniform and hanger, nodding. "Yes ma'am."

Rebecca giggled a little. "Oh darlin', I'm no ma'am. You can call me Becky."

Parting ways with your new manager, you left the diner, uniform in hand and some tips in your apron. You couldn't help but think about the first customer you had that day, a man appearing around your age, how quick your interactions were, but how he almost seemed disinterested in interacting with you. Was it possible he was a regular of the blonde woman? He paid his bill, he tipped you, and you went on about your day. That was all you could ask for.

Returning to your truck still parked in front of the grocery store, you set your items down in the cab. Peering to the bed of the truck, you huff as you realize your water container is missing. At least the thief had the balls to leave your empty gas container. Mr. Morgan's place was closed for the night, so you would have to swing by the store after work. "Cowards." you hum to yourself, getting in the truck and turning over the engine.

Returning home, you fed Felix with the food you acquired today. Becky made sure you had something to eat as well before you left the diner, though Big Ben had made a comment about it. This only solved three of your problems for the day. You still needed to wash up, and without the water container, you only had one choice.

The easiest thing would be to take a bucket to the lake and boil the water before using it to wash up. Not thinking clearly either, you left the house without any type of protection, knowing you were just getting water and heading back to the house. The only light you had to help you was the half-moon above you.

Unknown to you, the man from the diner had followed you home, wondering what you were up to. He wished he could understand what was happening, but your voice was all he could hear and focus on the rest of the day. His truck was parked in the woods opposite your home, and he stood in the tree line listening to the orchestra of insects and animals around the both of you. Foxes howled in the far distance, deer were settling in for the night. But there was another predator within the vicinity, one unbeknownst to you.

You kneeled down to fill the metal bucket with water, you were being watched by a wolverine and a black bear. A bear looking for its next meal, and a wolverine searching for answers, only to find more problems in his way.

The grunt of the bear finally caught your attention. It had been nearly twenty feet in front of you, standing on a rock as it discarded the fish carcass in its claws. He smelled bigger game, and his blood lust was all he could focus on.

Leaving the bucket still in the water, you slowly stood up, keeping your hands to your sides. It stayed on its rock, turning toward you. It must have been fully grown, which spelled danger for you. Black bears did not care and would defend themselves to the death, even if it was not threatened.

Seconds felt like minutes as the bear finally stood up, roaring before falling to all fours and darting toward you. There was no way you could outrun a bear, let alone rely on your home to defend you. Laying down now meant instant death for you. Climbing trees was out of the question.

Your heart pounded in your chest with every footfall, knowing the longer you thought about survival, the more your chances diminished.

The bear caught up to you, pinning you down and tossing you around. Your screams filled the space of the open field around you. Claws tore into your skin and clothes as you felt warm blood escape your body.

Snikt

The bear roared out, turning its attention away from you to something else, attacking it. The sounds of two animals tousling with each other filled the air, but after one minute, the bear grew quiet, a distinct thud was heard as its body fell to the ground.

Something rushed up to you, and before you could react, you felt human hands touching your body. "No, no, no."

You looked up to see the man from the diner hovering over you as his knees collided with the ground next to you. His face was bleeding, but as you watched him, you saw his wounds close and heal within seconds. Almost just like...

He observed you, looking at where your wounds were.

Or used to be.

You sat up, scooting away from him a little. Breathing heavily, the both of, you looked at his tattered clothes and blood stains. yet there was an absence of wounds. "What are you?" You asked hurriedly.

He stared at you, his eyes dancing the same tango where your wounds used to be. "I could ask you the same." He ran a hand over his hair before standing up. He offered you a hand, however you didn't take it. Brushing yourself off from the dirt.

"Nothing happened here, okay?"

Logan turned toward you as he watched you walk back to the lake, picking up the bucket of water.

You realized what you said sounded harsh, and that wasn't your nature. Closing your eyes briefly, you look back at the man. "I have some clothes in my house. I can at least give you something to replace those."

He watched you begin walking toward the cabin you called home. Taking a moment, he decided to follow in your footsteps, quickly matching your pace to walk with you. "I saw you get attacked by that bear. I can see the blood." His eyes scan over your back, where layers of clothes are torn. Not just your jacket, but your shirt, and an undershirt.

You swung open the door of your cabin after walking up the little set of stairs on your porch. "Not to sound like a broken record, but, I can ask you the same."

After both of you were in the cabin, you set the bucket down next to the woodfire stove, pulled some of the water into a pot, then set it on the surface of the stove to boil the water. You then opened up a door, the only closet space in your cabin. There was a box labeled Dad's clothes written in neat handwriting. You pushed it out to the side, then grabbed two jackets. "Here, pick out what you want."

He looked at you, unsure of the idea. There was more to ask now, and he wasn't so sure where to start. He watched as you moved around in the cabin, picking up a little bowl and scooping its contents into a bowl. He could smell the cat, but not see it. He looked around, wondering where it was.

You observed his behavior, wondering what he was doing. Clearing your throat, you took a stab in the dark. "His name is Felix. He doesn't like strangers. If I had to guess, he is on my bed, or under it."

He smirked a little, knowing his suspicion had been confirmed. He approached the box, opening it to look at the different shirts and pants inside.

You observed him, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall. "Why are you out here?" You were thankful he showed up when he did, knowing you didn't have many defenses against the bear beyond how you healed.

Instead of giving a bullshit answer or response, he turned to look at you, a gray flannel in hand. "I was just passing through." He lied.

You shook your head, eyeing him as you lowered an eyebrow. "No, you didn't. Nobody passes through this place." Sighing a little, you felt a tug in your back. "Look, I've had a somewhat normal life here, have my entire life. I don't really have anything else to go to, or the drive to go anywhere else. I'll tell you what I can do, and I can answer any questions you have. Then we can part our separate ways. Sound like a deal?"

Logan stood up, tossing the flannel over his shoulder. He held his hands up to his sides, shrugging his shoulders. "I won't complain." He didn't know where this would lead him, but the thought of getting some answers meant his trip wouldn't be wasted.

Nodding, you rolled the sleeve of your torn jacket up, exposing the lower part of your arm to him. you pulled one of the logs out of the stove, holding the unburned end in your hand. The other side was on fire. You held your arm out in front of you, then pressed the fire to your skin, doing your best to stifle the groans from the injury. Pulling the log away, the third-degree burn healed almost instantly as tissue, muscles, and skin grew back together. After showing him the display of your power, you put the log back in the stove. "I was never sick as a child. injured that should have resulted in broken bones never bothered me."

Logan watched you burn yourself and then heal almost instantly. He hadn't met anyone before who had the same healing rate as he did. What were the odds of meeting another mutant out in the middle of nowhere Montana?

"Can I show you what I can do?" He asked, watching your every moment with precision. As he watched you nod, he moved his right hand to cross in front of him. Slowly, the sound of moving metal filled the air as three long knife-like appendages emerged between his knuckles. You stared in a mix of awe and confusion. He smirked, then sliced the pad of his left hand, showing you his own healing rate.

What caught him off guard was how you began to approach him, though it was a slow approach. On instinct, he retracted his claws, the spaces where they had once been healing up. "Does it hurt?" You ask him, rubbing your own knuckles where the blades would have been.

He didn't know how to feel, knowing that the two of you were just strangers passing in the night. "Every damn time." His voice was above a whisper, as if afraid the tone of his voice would break the sound barrier.

Silent moments passed between the two of you, tension filling the air. He couldn't stand it anymore as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I should really get going," he spoke, stepping around you. Dazed little you finally felt you weren't the only one anymore.

You turned around to face him as he approached your door. "You know, I have a shift at the diner tomorrow. Maybe you'll happen to forget your lunch and have to stop by the diner?"

He should say no. He should be grabbing his things and heading out of town as quickly as possible. He should put this place in his rearview mirror and forget anything that happened there. But the drum of your heartbeat spoke bigger volumes than his brain did.

"We'll see." He nodded, thanking you silently with a gesture of the shirt before leaving your cabin, and walking toward his truck. He needed out of there as quickly as possible. Another moment with you could have sent him into a coma. How beautiful you smelled, how kind you were. Even though you were quick to block him earlier and run away, you still let him into your home and offered him a simple reward for saving your life.

It was almost too intoxicating to think about. And the promise of tomorrow could never come any sooner.

[mushroomates]

gimli headcanons:

likes doing laundry. finds it soothing

history nerd!! loves reading old tombs/biographies of his ancestors

is incredibly intelligent. beats frodo in chess. would beat gandalf but gandalf cheats. has been in a stalemate with aragorn for two and a half years.

well mannered but chooses to forgo his politeness to make a point. especially around elves.

does NOT like horses. not just riding them, which is canon, but actually dislikes the animal itself. the reasons why include (but are not limited to) :

he does not like being not on ground. he does not have a fear of heights so much as a fear of… feet not on ground. as evidenced by refusal to jump, treehouses, and well, horses

he does not like their faces. they are long and have eyes on the side like prey. gimli thinks this is deceiving as horses are very large and can kick in someone’s skull. not his skull.

gimli believes that in a one on one match with a horse, he could easily win. he has thought of several, very specific, scenarios of this and has a detailed plan of attack should this situation occur.

they so easily turned against their home for an evil overlord (read: sauron stole all the black horses from rohan) and therefore cannot be trusted. as a rule, anything that willing you let you ride it cannot be trusted. they can’t be satisfied with this life. they are plotting something.

believes he would be great at drums. it’s just hitting things hard and he’s pretty strong.

ok, another thing about horses: they are fragile to a ridiculous extent. you breath wrong and it breaks. they have bad bones and bad blood flow in their legs, and their legs are all that they’re used for. he doesn’t understand why humans invested so much time into horses when they’re genetically bad at what they are meant to do. he’d feel bad for the horses if they weren’t so awful.

drinks coffee, not tea

takes great with the up keeping of his gear. he sharpens his axes, polishes his boots, shines his armor and waxes his mustache. that’s not gear, but he takes great pride in looking groomed and caring for his belongings.

has an axe for every occasion. battle axe? do you want throwing or slashing. a day on the town? have you seen this intricately carved masterpiece that also is a weapon? digging a hole? PICKAXE. cutting a cake? how about an axe???

hates the rain because it ruins his hair and beard. also loves the rain because it ruins legolas’s hair and clothes.

will eat anything. has a great tolerance for spice. contrary to popular belief, dwarves are not shy of seasoning but are very cautious around other races in fear of poisoning their friends

will also eat some rocks. salty is his favorite (halite, hanksite, glauberite) but also likes to add chunks of chalcanthite to his food for a slightly sweet yet metalic flavor. this is also slightly (SLIGHTLY) poisonous as evidenced by sharing his trail mix with boromir

also calls dirt the “local seasoning”

will taste dirt to try and get a feeling for the land. this tells him the acidity, weather, possible wildlife, and also pisses off legolas

actaully genuinely likes the taste of dirt. (note: if you desire to eat clay/dirt that is a symptom of iron deficiency. for gimli, he eats spoonfuls of the stuff like their supplements because as a kid it was fed to him like multivitamins)

OK SO HEAR ME OUT: lack of sunlight can cause really low hemoglobin and ferritin (a blood protein that contains iron) sooo being constantly in dark caves can cause some forms of iron deficiency. because dwarves are conscious of their young, dwarf children often grow up not often being in direct sunlight.

the solution? dirt. dirt contains iron and other tasty minerals that are good for the body. charcoal has natural antioxidants. so does clay. am i saying that momma gimli (unnamed) fed her son ash and clumps of dirt? yes. also bits of broken pottery. it’s good of the immune system.

fr tho clay/dirt/charcoal are the dwarven multivitamins. you have a tummy-ache? here, have a rock. i truly believe this was scientifically proven by dwarves and only FOR dwarves (plz do not eat dirt)

fuckin loves mushrooms. has a mushroom log at home. whenever dwarves find some fungai in a cave they go feral

likes dogs. thinks it’s great that they dig holes. thinks it’s fantastic that the bury things in holes. absolutes loves when they get muddy, and then shake off all water and dirt all over you.

when he came back home with the name lockbearer, a lot of the dwarves thought it was really cool and he has some sort of elven puzzle that requires a code to unlock something. imagine their surprise when he rocks up and is like: no, even better. HAIRS. three of them.

enjoys making mudpies- made them as a kid with his cousins, (mostly with rock slurry) and continues to, even even as an adult.

made them on the fellowship with the hobbits. taught them all about the best types of dirt and the water-to-soil- ratio needed.

while cutting up slices of his pie, he offered one to boromir, who in good nature, took it, clearly thinking it was just part of the bit.

poor boromir was locked in a stalemate after gimli cut his own slice, and began eating it.

to his credit, boromir did brave a few bites, but had to stop once he nearly had a mouthful of maggots

“protein”

gimli is like crazy good at hair. can braid quickly and efficiently in elaborate styles

picked up eleven hair style techniques in lorien (quicker than legolas) and was forced to relay them to the elf through twine as there is no way he’s letting grubby elf fingers to touch his glorious mane that’s been decades in the making

would ask for a drink “on the rocks” and get slightly upset if it did not come back with actual rocks