#I will probably add to this in a few days because truly I have so much more to say lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

em1i2a3 · 1 month ago

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Carry The Zero

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry (or The Void) x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are sharing a room while the Avengers Compound is under renovations, which brings on a slew of new things to learn about one another.

Warnings: Semi Spoilers for Thunderbolts I guess because Bob is in here. Other than that there is nothing too extreme happening in here, it’s a bit emotional, but there is fluff in here, I would kind of describe this as a Hurt/Comfort fic than anything. There are mentions of abuse and there is also some heavy petting maybe? I mean, I’ll put that in here to cover my booty lol.

Authors Note: My second viewing of Thunderbolts truly got my mind racing for what to write in regard to Bob. Thought I would put out this lil blurb and probably add more to it later in another segment or something! Anyways! Enjoy y’all and happy premiere weekend!!! :)

Word Count: 6,784

The room wasn’t built for two people, that’s what you knew for sure. It used to be a storage space, at least that is what you assumed judging by the various filing cabinets that lined the area, the dented lockers that were near the door, and the strewn papers that nobody decided to throw away in preparation for the move-in. The only thing that was the saving grace was the fact that the place had a window that let you look out onto the city. But it still didn’t truly make up for the cramped space, even though they were able to shove two twin sized beds inside it and call it a room–which showed how effective their planning was throughout all the chaos.

The Avengers Compound was still under renovations after a security breach took out part of the living space, meaning everyone needed to be shuffled like cards in a losing deck. Room assignments were given unwillingly to everyone, and you had been paired with Bob.

It was weird to be rooming with someone who had the power of a million exploding suns as people liked to say, because even though he carried that on his sleeve sheepishly, his personality certainly didn’t match that of a person who could take down the entire world. He was shy, quiet, and careful, tip-toeing around you like you were going to snap at him at any second–which was not the case at all.

Compared to the other options you had you actually preferred to be rooming with him.

The first few days had passed in near silence. You didn’t talk much, you’d only go into your room to sleep or change, and when you would do something outside of those two things Bob would rush out pretty quickly, apologizing nervously under his breath, like he thought you were obligated to time alone.

He’d go to bed early, and you’d catch him reading beneath the awful buzzing lamp that was left in the room from before the two of you moved in. You never really asked him what he was reading because the title was always changing, like he couldn’t finish anything, or he had so much time to himself he was finishing books like they were snacks.

Then there were little things you began to notice.

He’d pace a lot, wring his hands in his lap, or pick at the skin on his fingers. He was clean, he never left shoes in the middle of the room, and always lined them up neatly under his bed frame, even yours. He would flinch at loud noises, like if there was a childish argument happening in the communal kitchen and things got too high in volume he would get a little twitchy. He was observant, and paid attention to everything around him–sometimes you would hear him talking to himself, repeating fragments of conversations from earlier in the day, like it grounded him in some way.

He had his routine and you respected it as much as possible, but tonight was entirely different.

You were coming in late from training, and a med bay visit.

The scrape on your shoulder wasn’t serious, but it was bad enough to have Bucky send you down to get checked out. It was standard–some antiseptic, a lecture from one of the nurses about being more careful and aware of your surroundings, and then you were released with a warning, and a fresh bandage. You were exhausted, sore, and annoyed with yourself for not paying attention and letting your guard down during a simulation, especially because the past few nights had been like that.

By the time you reached your floor, the halls were quiet. There wasn’t any bickering or discussions happening in the kitchen, nobody was lingering in the living room with post-mission jitters, it was just peace, for once.

You stopped at the fridge to pick yourself up a bottle of electrolytes, then paused, eyeing the row of them. You bit your inner cheek, and after a second of hesitation you grabbed another one for Bob, tucking it against you.

You figured he would be awake like he always was when you were on your training nights. You weren’t sure if he was just waiting for you or if he was just incapable of resting when you weren’t accounted for, but you never asked.

Slowly, you moved down the hall, twisting the cap off your drink with a wince when you strained just a little too much, causing the bandage to sting beneath your shirt. You gritted your teeth and let out a frustrated grunt.

“Gotta take it easy on yourself.” You heard Bucky say from behind you. You turned on your heel, seeing he was still in his training gear, also holding a bottle of electrolytes as well, “You’re gonna burn out if you don’t take breaks.” You shifted under his gaze.

”I want to be better, that’s why I’m training. If you got your ass handed to you on the field you would be doing the same.” He shook his head.

”No. I would be resting and seeing what I could do better the next time. Don’t come to training for the rest of the week, just relax and recoup, we’ll revisit your regimen when you’re better.” Before you could say anything he typed his code in for his room, and was out of your sight. You could feel your body seething as you turned back around to continue making your way down the hall. You’d seen it coming from a mile away just by the way he was watching you during the simulation but you never thought he would say anything to you like that. It just added another layer of annoyance as you reached your room.

You pushed the door open gently, careful not to let the hinges creak too loudly. The room was dark, which was unexpected, Bob’s light wasn’t even on. The only thing that was illuminating the room was the shimmer of city lights, casting silver-blue shadows across the floor.

Bob was in bed, lying on his side facing you, with his blanket tugged up to his neck. His face was soft in the low light–features relaxed, eyes closed. Sleeping, or at least you thought he was. You lingered in the doorway for a moment, squinting in the dimness of the room to see him a bit better.

His light brown hair looked a little messy, like he’d been shifting around for a while before finally settling on the position he was in now. You wondered how long he was lying like that, or if he had been waiting for your return but fell asleep in the process, and now you felt even worse than before.

You let the door close softly behind you with a gentle click, removing your shoes slowly, one at a time. Every motion felt heavier than it should have��dull with fatigue, and edged in frustration. You padded across the narrow space, keeping your steps quiet, with the extra bottle of electrolytes tucked against you, the condensation seeping through your training jacket.

You crouched slowly beside Bob’s bed, biting back a wince as your muscles tensed in protest, while you placed the bottle down on the floor, angling it so he’d see it when he woke up. It was a small, quiet offering, just something kind, a consideration in a way. You took your next moves slowly as you stood up and turned to your own bed with a tired exhale, putting the cap back on your drink and throwing it onto your bed. One hand rose to the zipper of your training jacket, pulling it down in a swift movement, teeth grinding while you pushed the fabric off your shoulders, feeling pain erupt from your ribs and shoulder now, the muscles pulsing with burning heat.

The cool air of the room hit your skin instantly, and your tank top didn’t do much to hide any of your injuries from the environment. Your back arched with the grating sting that came through you, and one hand came up to press against the bandage, making sure it was still on properly and not tugging at your skin. The ache was sharp and pulsing, and when your fingers came away damp, you already knew there was blood seeping through the gauze. You grimaced but didn’t consider making another trip to the med bay. You were too tired to care at this point, and it wasn’t something that would cause you to bleed out, so it was a morning issue to deal with.

You turned toward your dresser, collecting a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized sweater that smelled faintly of sage, throwing both articles of clothing down onto your bed with a soft plop. You rolled your shoulder gently, testing the range of motion in it with a quiet wince before reaching for the hem of your tank top, peeling the rough fabric up your skin carefully, trying to avoid the worst of the sting, though even at your slowest pace you could feel the movement pulling at the wound.

The cotton clung briefly to the tape of the gauze and the dried sweat that coated your skin before finally giving way, and coming off completely. You let out a sigh of relief, as you let the fabric fall to the floor, reaching for your sweater next. The bandage on your shoulder throbbed with every shift you made, but it was the deeper bruises scattered across your body–ghosts of impacts from the past few days–that ached beneath your skin like an echoing thunder. You glanced down at yourself, taking in the way they bloomed across your ribs, stomach, and hips, at this point you could see more bruises than your actual flesh at this point, and they were tender, dark and swollen. Maybe Bucky was right, maybe you really did need a break…

Your fingers curled loosely into the hem of your sweater, but you didn’t think to pull it on yet, you just continued to look down at the wreck that was your body, and the longer you stared, the more numb you became. It was easy to take a break but it wasn’t deserved, you couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes during missions, and you knew you weren’t going to listen to Bucky, you would keep training until your body gave out.

You closed your eyes for a moment, before lifting the sweater towards you, ready to retreat into its softness, ready to disappear and call it a night, but then you heard it.

A breath. Sharp and quick. You froze in your spot.

Then came the sound of movement, the shuffling of the blanket, the mattress creaking under the shifting weight.

Your eyes darted toward Bob’s bed instantly, seeing that his back was now turned towards you. His blanket was pulled up around his shoulders, almost covering his whole head, but there was tension in his posture now, like he was more alert, and less relaxed.

Another breath was inhaled, only it was thinner this time, and wet, followed by a muffled sniffle. Your brows furrowed, and you worked quickly to throw your sweater on without hurting yourself so you were covered up completely, before making your way to his bed, crouching down on the floor, keeping your attention fixated on him. His shoulders were rising and falling now in uneven motions, and now you were piecing together that he was actually crying.

”…Bob?” You whispered, voice soft and low, like if you made it any louder than the volume you were at now it might shatter him. You could see the shuddering in his shoulders halt at the way you said his name, and he pulled the blanket higher over his head, like he was trying to shield himself from your eyes.

”I’m sorry…” Your brows pulled together in confusion as you leaned against the bed a little more, watching the outline of his frame beneath the covers, seeing the small tremors still running through his shoulders. You bit the inside of your cheek as you reached out, your hand hovering for a breath before resting gently against the curve of his back. He was radiating heat through the blanket, but he was stiff beneath your touch, like he didn’t know what to do with the comfort you were offering.

“Bob…Why are you apologizing?” You asked softly. He took in another shaky breath, but didn’t answer. You let out a sigh, rubbing your hand up and down his back like your mother used to when you cried, trying to soothe him, to calm him as much as you could.

”I…I saw the bruises.” He said, barely a whisper. Your hand on his back froze for a moment, “I-I didn’t mean to look, I swear, I just-“ His breath hitched, realizing that you were probably throwing daggers into his back with your eyes, “I just woke up…And saw them, and I couldn’t…Couldn’t stop remembering…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, it was just too much, as another set of sobs escaped his throat. You could feel your gaze soften at the noise, almost like a piece of your heart was breaking for him, continuing your movements along his back, pressing just a little harder into the muscle.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want some electrolytes or something?” He shook his head.

”No…P-Please just stay…” His voice was hoarse, cracking under the thickness that coated his throat from the tears. You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, staring at his shoulders as he continued to cry, curling in on himself beneath his blanket.

You continued rubbing his back, keeping a steady and consistent rhythm. The heat of him radiated through the blanket like a furnace on the verge of burning itself out. Every time your hand passed over his spine, his shoulders seemed to loosen by a fraction.

“C-Can I ask something…Kind of w-weird?” His voice broke through the quiet again, in such a timid whisper that you barely heard it.

“Sure.” You replied, hearing him sniffle again. There was a long pause, and you could feel the hesitation, like he was trying to put his words together properly so whatever he was going to say didn’t come off creepy. You continued to run your hand over his back, waiting patiently for him, watching his figure rising and falling beneath the blanket, still seeing it shaking. In your mind, you were worried, you hadn’t seen him like this before, and there was a moment where you considered calling Bucky or Yelena to come help you, but then his voice broke through the thoughts.

”…Could you…” He took another breath, “Could you…Please hold me?” The question came out strangled, like it had clawed its way out of his throat before he could second-guess it again. You blinked slowly at the request, not because you were unsure of your answer, but because the way he said it was so gentle, and embarrassed it caught you off guard in a way.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, you thought maybe he was going to ask you for a tissue, but this was something far more vulnerable, something you never thought would come from Bob of all people, even though you knew he was sensitive. Inside you hesitated only because you didn’t want to hurt him by possibly doing the wrong thing, yet your heart ached watching him break down beneath his blanket which at this point was drowning him because of how much he had curled up beneath it.

“Of course…Just let me change out of these training pants first okay? It’ll just take a second.” There was no response to that, just movement. He shifted towards the wall so he was giving you enough space to get in, still hunched over like he felt guilty for the area that he occupied. You quickly stood up, and made quick work of shimmying out of your training pants and putting on your cotton sleep shorts, which was probably the best idea since you felt him burning through the blanket he was wrapped in. You brought your attention back to him soon after, returning to the side of the bed, your eyes roaming over the lump that resembled his body.

With a gentle hand, you tugged the edge of the blanket down just enough to uncover the top of his head, revealing his light brown hair again which looked dampened with sweat beneath the illuminating city lights that shined through the window. He didn’t say anything, or protest being exposed to you, so you took that as a good sign to continue.

You slid into the space he made for you, careful not to jostle the cocoon he made for himself too much, and eased your bad arm underneath his pillow so your scraped shoulder could rest in a neutral position where your bandage wouldn’t rip off your skin completely. You pulled up the blanket slightly, getting in behind him, scooting closer until your chest met his damp back.

His navy blue t-shirt was soaked through completely, and it wasn’t helping that he was wearing long pants to bed either. There was a fear he was gonna pass out from heat stroke or something, but he had mentioned it several times that he ran hot in general, you just didn’t see it to this extreme. He smelled like a salty rain storm, or like ozone, it was something indescribable to you in those moments, but it was what he typically radiated, it was familiar.

Slowly, you brought your arm over his torso, placing your hand onto the hard plane of his sternum, the muscles beneath his shirt twitching against the unfamiliar touch that you introduced to him.

Neither of you spoke, you just laid against each other in pure silence, listening to each other's breathing–his trembling, yours steady. He could feel your hot breaths against his neck and tried to pay attention to it, as you pushed down the blanket a bit with your elbow to shed the makeshift shield from his body. It took him a while to compose himself enough to speak again, but when he did, you were hanging off of every word.

”…When I saw the bruises…” He rasped, “All I could think about was me. When I was a kid…” The mentioning of his childhood immediately felt like a blow to your stomach. He had said something about how he was raised in passing, but it was an off handed remark that nobody really paid attention to. You figured it was something he didn’t want to talk about, but hearing him say this only made you dread what he was going to continue with.

”After he’d hit me…I’d go over to the mirror, just to see how bad it was. I’d tell myself it didn’t hurt, even if it did, I’d just lie to myself, because I knew if I cried, he’d just get angrier. He was always in the mood to beat me up so when he had a reason I think it made him feel justified in some…Messed up way.” Your chest tightened at his words, thinking about how scary it must’ve been for him, and how terrified he must’ve felt not knowing when his own father would strike. You didn’t speak right away, but you did shift, sliding your hand up higher on his chest, so you could press your palm flat over his heart. His shirt was soaked there too, yet beneath it all you could feel the frantic fluttering of his pulse, like a bird rattling against its cage.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, your breath tickling his neck again. He didn’t respond, though he didn’t recoil either.

“None of that should’ve ever happened to you,” You continued softly, brushing your thumb along the fabric against his heart, “You were a child, and you didn’t deserve that.” He let out a breath like he was trying not to begin sobbing again.

”You don’t have to say that.” You raised your head a bit, almost in disbelief that he truly thought that what happened to him was somehow okay or justified.

”I do, Bob.” You murmured, inching just a little closer, feeling your body screaming in protest as your injured shoulder moved the wrong way, causing you to hiss through your teeth. Bob noticed instantly.

”You’re hurting,” He said quietly with guilt sinking into every syllable.

”I really couldn’t give a crap about that right now Bob, trust me I’ve been through worse. You’re hurting right now too and I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand?” You replied back, your voice low, but lacking bite, not that you intended to have it sound stern or anything.

Bob shifted beneath your touch, slowly rolling onto his back like the weight of your words cracked something loose inside him. You adjusted carefully to give him space, keeping your injured shoulder angled away from the impact of his back pressing against your arm, even though the ache felt like white noise beneath the tension that was beginning to rise in the room. When he settled on his back you adjusted yourself so your chin rested against his chest, keeping your hand splayed in the same position over his heart.

His eyes didn’t find yours at first, they stared blankly at the ceiling, the soft glow of the city lights catching the shimmer of the tears that were still pooling in his eyes. Now that you could see him fully, you realized how bad things really were. His skin was blotchy, and flushed from how hot he was. His cheeks were stained with fresh tears, mixing with sweat that created this overall sheen on his skin in general, which made his hair cling to his forehead. A long, old kind of hurt settled over his face, the kind that hid quietly within the corners of a person.

He inhaled shakily, and every exhale got caught somewhere between exhaustion and restraint. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your chin, and it made you ache in a way that put a hole deep in your chest.

”Bob…” You murmured, barely louder than the sound of the city humming outside the window, “Look at me.” At first he didn’t move, keeping his eyes fixated on the ceiling, distant and confused, still taking in those short bursts of air. Your hand left his chest, bringing them up to his jaw, coaxing his attention with the lightest touch you could give him.

“Look at me Bob,” You whispered again.

Then slowly, his eyes shifted downward until they found yours. The moment his gaze landed on you, something cracked open between you both–it was quiet, and delicate, but present and grounded in the center of it all. His expression was drawn, and his lashes were clumpy and wet with tears, framing his shimmering blue irises.

The skin surrounding his eyes were raw, almost a blood red, like someone had scratched it and left their marks streaking down his flesh. You didn’t flinch away from it though, you just looked at him with such focus, like your gaze could settle the storm that was in him. You could see his lip tremble slightly under your gaze as he tried to hold himself still, tears brimming in his eyes again, threatening to spill.

”I hate remembering…I can’t stand it. I don’t want to remember this stuff…I don’t want to think about it anymore, and I don’t want you to associate me with being weak.” You raised your eyebrows, now raising your head up to you were looking at him a little better, resting your hand against his chin now.

”I don’t, ” You stated, watching a set of tears flow out of the corners of his eyes, swallowing loudly, “I don’t associate you with weakness.” You whispered, brushing your thumb along the smooth skin of his cheek.

”I associate you with patience…With overwhelming kindness, and with strength so deep it doesn’t even have to be displayed. You could burn the sky down…You could use all the pain inside you to destroy the planet…Yet you help, you listen, and you keep going. That’s not a weak person Bob.” You wiped one of the tears away with your thumb, feeling him hesitate before leaning into your touch.

“Y/N…I’m not right in the head…You don’t understand…You’ll never understand.” You shook your head, and sighed.

”I don’t have to understand everything to care about you,” Bob’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, like the words that you said hit him like a truck. You could feel the tension in his jaw, as he clenched it tightly, trying to contain himself a bit.

“I used to think that if I could just bury everything deep enough maybe it wouldn’t make me feel so contaminated…But then when I got the serum…And The Void came…And that awfulness manifested into something bigger…I realized that it just wouldn’t go away. I’m dangerous Y/N…I’m not someone that can be fixed. I know you care, but I can’t risk hurting you.” You shifted closer to him, moving up slowly, dragging your chest along his. His eyes followed your movements, turning his head when you settled near his shoulder, feeling your hand leave his cheek.

“You don’t scare me Bob. You’re just saying this stuff because you think it’ll make me give up on you, but I’m not that easy to sway.” You whispered, reaching down to touch one of his hands, which caused him to flinch. He was already bracing himself, preparing to be pulled into one of your memories, but it didn’t happen…It was like…Things were quiet. Just pure emptiness, and the only thing he could see was you. He stared at you as you wrapped your fingers around his hand, seeing his brows draw together.

“H-How are you…Doing this?” He asked quietly, like he was afraid he was going to disturb the peace and get thrown into your mind out of nowhere.

”I locked it out.” He shook his head at you quickly.

”That’s impossible…It always gets in…” A small smile came up on your lips, hearing the disbelief in his voice, the way he was almost entirely taken aback by what you had just said. You leaned in a little closer to him, like you were going to tell him a secret, feeling his breath fanning over your face.

“Before I was recruited, I was part of a different team. Black-ops, kind of like what the X-Men used to be, but very much under the radar. It was just…Constant missions, we were a clean up crew basically, picking up the scraps that nobody else wanted…” You smiled faintly, the corner of your mouth twitching with the memories of your team, how close you all were, how none of you took crap from anyone…Similar to what you had now, just a little better because of the tether you all had between each other.

“We ran into a lot of people with gifts. Telepaths. Empaths…Stuff like that. Some didn’t even know they were projecting until it was too late. Others weaponized it. Pulled secrets out like stitches and drove people insane without ever touching them.”

Bob was still staring at you, eyes wide and brimming with tears, his chest rising beneath you in short bursts.

“It was mandatory,” You continued. “To train in mental shielding. Neural control. The discipline to lock down your own mind so tight it’s like a vault. We trained until our thoughts didn’t even echo. You learn to breathe around psychic pressure, to mask trauma with static, to reroute memories into dead space. You learn to feel someone reaching for you…And then cut the line.”

Bob swallowed hard, hearing the way you explained everything to him step by step, while still holding his hand, running your thumb over the back of it.

“I wasn’t trained to stop the Void,” You said gently, “But I was trained to stop something similar to it. And apparently, it’s just close enough.” You watched his lashes flutter like he didn’t know whether he was going to cry again or if he was just going to sink into the mattress and disappear entirely.

“…That’s why the mental noise isn’t so loud when we're alone in a room together…” He whispered under his breath, almost like everything was clicking in his mind, as his hand began to tighten around yours now, matching the same hold you had, “…Mental shielding…Who knew that would be the thing that makes everything go quiet.” You smirked at his comment, already hearing the tension in his voice wavering, feeling his breath sticking to your cheeks, shifting in front of him so your noses bumped slightly.

“Technically it’s still quite an experimental thing, but…It works when needed I think.” You can see his lip twitch slightly, drawing into his mouth just a little bit, as if he wanted to get a taste of your breath that coated it.

“It’s…Amazing.” Was all he could muster up to say, continuing to hold onto your hand tightly, like it was anchoring him to this quiet space in his head that he had not been able to reach since taking the serum. “…All I hear, and all I feel…Is you and I had no clue until now…” The sound of his voice made your spine tingle, and goosebumps raise on your skin.

It was shocking that moments ago he was this wreck, then suddenly it was like he was on top of the world. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been touched like this in so long, or maybe it was because he finally had a break from all the noise that kept draining him, you had no clue…But what you did know is how soft his eyes had become, and how deep his breaths were now that he was a little calmer, and not being treated like a threat of some kind.

You shifted again, getting almost unbearably close to him now, the fabric of the blanket sliding down slowly, exposing your clothed bodies to the silvery-blue light just a little more. Bob didn’t move, but his eyes never left yours, he kept every ounce of attention on you, waiting for your next action, hanging on every moment. His breath hitched when your knees bumped gently against his thigh, as the warmth of your bodies radiated like twin heartbeats pressed just barely apart.

Your noses were brushing against one another, and if you tilted your chin up by just a little bit, you’d be kissing.

”I’m glad I’ve been able to make it go quiet for you…Even if it’s not permanent.” A faint smile slowly appeared on his face–crooked, and trembling, but so genuine.

“It’s more peace than I thought I’d ever get…So thank you.” He replied back, his hand squeezing yours, not in desperation, but with something closer to awe, like he still couldn’t wrap his head around the situation that was happening in front of him. His breath brushed across your face as he watched your eyes roaming over his. You couldn’t help but stare at him, to take him in now that he wasn’t crying, to admire the person who was in front of you. It was hard not to lose track of time studying his features, and how they were just…Him.

There was a long pause between the both of you, a snippet of time suspended into the universe where nothing else existed beyond the narrow bed and the hum of the city beyond the window. His chest rose slowly, puffing out warm shallow breaths against your lips, and for a second it felt like he was hesitating on something…But then, he leaned in.

It wasn’t fast, or sweeping like he was trying to catch you off guard. It was careful, like every little millimeter he closed between the both of you was an offer for you to pull back, but you didn’t take it.

When his lips met yours, it was a soft, trembling brush of mouths that lingered more in intent than execution. He kissed like he was afraid you were somehow going to disappear, but you could feel how much he truly wanted this. His lips were warm, and slightly parted, and you could taste the faintness of tears and salt, still hesitating to go the full mile.

There was a moment where he was about to pull back, and that’s when you took the opportunity to fully lean into the kiss and throw logic out the window, just for this one cut of time

Your lips moved against his, answering the softness of his approach with something more certain and grounded. The taste of him was still there, but now it was amplified tenfold from how much more pressure you were placing on the kiss now.

He was stiff at first, the tension in his jaw made it evident, like he was unsure of what he was allowed to do, what he was okay to give back, or like he was bracing himself for the possibility of you pulling back before he could even try to meet you where you were at. But then your hand let go of his, and slid up to cup the side of his face, and he let out the smallest gasp of disbelief against your mouth. Your thumb brushed gently beneath his eye as your lips molded to the shape of his mouth with a tenderness that shattered whatever restrain he’d been holding onto.

Your arm shifted beneath the pillow, bending just enough so you could lace your fingers into his damp hair, pulling him in more with such grace that it made him groan. His hand moved to your neck then–his shaky fingers pressing softly just below your ear, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw as he located your pulse instantly. His touch wasn’t possessive, it was filled with care, and curiosity. He wanted to feel the warmth of your skin, the steady–or not so steady–rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his fingers, he craved to be closer to you, and every moment that passed was giving him the signal that you wanted that too.

He shifted gently, slowly turning onto his side without breaking the kiss, being cautious not to put anymore unwanted pressure on your arm beneath him as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in until your bodies were flush against one another. You could feel the dampness on your sweater from his shirt, and your bare legs brushing against the cotton of his sleep pants, which only overwhelmed you more, knowing it was going to be a challenge to stop this from going too far.

His hand splayed out on your back, twitching against the fabric that covered it as you parted your lips for him, allowing his tongue to brush against yours with the softest flicker of hesitation, tasting you like he was drinking something sacred. The breath he let out against your mouth made your skin prickle beneath your sweater, and it only encouraged your response.

You angled your mouth to his, encouraging him to continue, feeling him follow suit in an instant, matching your energy bit by bit, syncing with the way you moved against him. When your hand slid further into his hair, and curled within the damp strands, gently tugging, he let out the smallest, softest moan–it was so quiet and desperate it sounded like it had been buried within him for years. It made your head spin hearing it, and it only made you shift yourself towards him even more, feeling his thigh nudging between your legs so the both of you can completely mesh together. It was such a subtle move, but it lit up every nerve ending in your body like it was nothing.

Bob’s hand slid beneath the hem of your sweater, craving the feeling of your skin beneath his touch. His fingers traced the small of your spine, barely putting enough pressure on it, yet he still managed to send shivers through your body. He was getting bolder, but kept his awareness at the forefront, like he was cataloging every reaction you gave him, terrified that he might cross an invisible line and ruin the moment.

You felt the muscles in his arm shift as he pulled you even closer, putting more pressure between your bodies until you felt every rise and fall of his chest, and his heartbeat pulsed through you. His knee shifted again, nudging further between your thighs, pressing it gently into the thin cotton fabric that covered your most sensitive area, eliciting a gasp from you now. You could feel yourself falter control for a moment, moving your hips just a little to test the friction that you wanted, and that’s when you both realized just how far this could go–and how close you already were to getting there.

His hand tensed against your back, and the kiss slowed down, until he found the correct moment to pull back, just a few inches. His lips were still parted, only now they were swollen and wet with saliva. He was out of breath, and you mirrored the same sentiment, as the both of you tried to even your racing hearts before they exploded. His pupils were dilated, and in the dimmed lighting you could only see a faint glisten of blue that rimmed the darkness that took over, the burn was there, the want was there, but there was the looming fear that you both were going from zero to one hundred really quickly, and that’s when regrets could be made, and neither of you wanted that.

”…We can’t do this…” He whispered, his voice cracking from being the first one to speak. You nodded faintly, your fingers still toying with his hair, reluctant to let go completely, but understanding him.

”I know,” You murmured, “Not like this…Not tonight.” You clarified. He closed his eyes, a soft exhale brushing your lips as his fingers twitched against your pulse point on your neck again.

”It’s not that I don’t want to,” He added quietly, “God I do…You have no idea.”

“I know,” You said again, running your thumb along his cheek, soothing the skin there, “Me too…I want to as well…But we’re not ready. Especially after being in the headspace that you were in a few minutes ago.” He nodded slowly.

”I don’t want it to be something that will be confused for a moment of distraction.” You stared at him, hearing how serious he was about it, “And I don’t want to ruin anything.” He added softly, opening his eyes again to look at you.

”You’re not ruining anything, we’re just pressing pause…And that’s completely fine, and it’s the best decision to make for right now.” He gave a small, nervous smile at that and leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, “We’ll talk more about it later…But for now how about we just relax hmm?” He let out a shaky breath, the heat from it hitting your lips and invading your mouth for just a split second.

”Yeah…I’d like that.” You smiled faintly, as your bodies untangled just a bit from one another, removing the both of you from the intimate position you had found yourself in moments before. His knee shifted out from between your legs, and rested against them instead, letting the tension unravel and disappear slowly.

He wrapped both arms around you now, carefully noting your injury, and you folded yourself into his chest, letting your hand rest on his ribs as he pulled the blanket up to shield the both of you.

You both stayed there, nose to nose, breath to breath, hearts beating unevenly against one another until sleep came over you like a harsh wave.

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velaenam · 1 month ago

Text

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

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biscuitdolly · 8 months ago

Text

୨ৎ absolute necessities .ᐟ

if you're trying to glow up, get healthier, etc, these are the very basics that you absolutely NEED to follow!

01, WATER .ᐟ

Staying hydrated is crucial for your health and wellbeing. While the recommended daily intake is 8 cups of water, you can gradually increase your consumption over a few weeks if that seems too overwhelming. Drinking enough water provides numerous benefits, from clearing skin and flushing out waste, to boosting exercise performance and supporting weight loss. Despite being the very essence that sustains life, water is often underappreciated.

02, FOOD .ᐟ

I used to skip breakfast, thinking it would help me lose weight. However, studies show that those who eat breakfast tend to lose more weight and keep it off longer. The truth is, food is incredibly important. It's best to regulate your eating habits by consuming at least 3 meals per day, even if they're only small portions. Some food is better than no food. If you want to go on a diet, that's fine! but make sure you research healthy dieting methods. At a minimum, eat one serving of fruits and vegetables daily, and try to increase that to five servings per day if possible. Proper nutrition is key for your overall health.

03, HOBBIES .ᐟ

i have this previous post regarding hobbies you could try! It's so important to find fun activities that you genuinely enjoy and look forward to doing. Hobbies add fun to your life and pose as a nice break from technology and the stress of work and school. They also greatly improve symptoms of depression and anxiety. You could do some physical activity, such as a sport you like, or something more calm and creative, like painting or writing.

04, SLEEP .ᐟ

a lot of people struggle to fall asleep at a decent time. Try getting ready for bed early. Personally, I tend to take off my make up and do my skincare immediately after i come home for school/work so i don't have to worry about it before bed.

Technology is probably your sleeping schedule's worst enemy, as the blue light from the screen keeps your brain awake, so try to pause screen-related activities at least an hour before bed. Also, try not to snack 2 - 4 hours before you go to sleep. This is because lying down makes it harder for your body to digest food, which can result in sleeplessness.

Forcing yourself to go to bed super early isn't helpful either. Like I've mentioned in my other points, take things slow and gradual!

05, SOCIALIZATION .ᐟ

Engaging in simple social interactions, such as conversing with family, seeing friends, or greeting people on the street, is incredibly important. Isolating yourself in your room all day accomplishes nothing.

There was a time when I dreaded spending time with friends, convinced I lacked the energy or mood. However, once I forced myself to make plans, I realized how much I genuinely enjoyed their company. Other people are what make life truly worthwhile. So why not reach out to a friend right now and invite them to hang out tomorrow?

06, ACTIVITY .ᐟ

you don't need an exercise routine if you don't want one, but simple physical activity is still a daily necessity! At least 30 minutes is recommended. Personally, i most enjoy plugging in my headphones and going on a walk around my neighbourhood for an hour or two.

07, SELF TALK .ᐟ

Arguably one of my most important points, quit the self-deprecating talk. You never realize how much it affects you until you quit it. Yes, you can absolutely get that assessment done. Yes, you are a likable and amazing person. Just keep affirming and reminding yourself that you are worthy, and you will attract so many good things. Trust me, it will help you so much in the long run.

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screamingforests · 4 months ago

Text

This is a shoot off of the amazing @beloveds-embrace designationless!reader au! All credit for this A/B/O AU goes to her and go give her support!!!

Based on this specific scenario

Cw: Heavy angst, medical torture, inaccurate medical things, very little comfort

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe it was the way no one noticed you when you walked into the room that made you think you were normal. Maybe it was the way people around you edged away, put off by your lack of scent. The way everyone looked at you with pity.

You didn't want that. Your entire life you had just wanted to fit in. You wanted to be someone that someone else loved.

Maybe it was your family that was the root of the problem, the ones who separated you from your siblings who were all normal. The family that never let you into their mest, claiming your lack of scent, would destroy the atmosphere. That family ignored you, never responding to you. The ones who left to grasping for a relationship, only to realize you would never have one because you were less.

"I've noticed the way people edge away from me, the way they stare! I'm not normal, and this is my chance!" Desperation edged in your voice. "I just- it would be easier this way!"

Johnny chewed on his lip, "easier for who? We all accept you for you, lad."

"This procedure, it's downright inhumane," Simon adds, his brows furrowed as he looked at you, as if truly seeing /you/ for the first time. The scared child you were, wanting to be normal. "It changes you on a base level - I could kill you, dove. It's barely even out of its testing phase."

You sighed. Weren't you allowed to be selfish for once, to want?

"I know," Your voice is quiet but resolute, mind stuck in its decision. "But I want it."

John looks at you. Kyle looks between you and John, eyes full of nervousness. His arms were crossed, looking down his nose at you.

It reminds you so much of the look your dad would give you, the few times he was forced to interact with you.

"No - I won't allow you to get this procedure," John's voice almost rings in your ears. Out of all of them, you thought he might be able to understand.

Of course you were wrong.

You pull away from them, eyes burning. Your mind was made up, it had been since the moment the idea was out into you.

The pack just looks at you with sad eyes, as if understanding the pain you have lived with. As if they could ever understand the feeling of looking into a world, living in it for short amounts of time, but never really belonging.

It's weeks later, but you finally have your appointment. You hadn't told anyone about it, you didn't want them to worry.

It had to be fine, right?

It hurt, so bad. Pain sang throughout your body, needles sticking out of your skin, and probes stuck with adhesive. You screamed in pain but no one was coming.

You had checked in alone, even told the nurses you didn't want visitors.

No one soothed the pain like Simon did, no one cooed comforts into your ear like Kyle. John and Johnny weren't there to ground you. You were alone, packless.

And only had yourself to blame.

It started out small, the loss of sense in your fingers and toes. The doctors assured you it would come back, even if their voice was condescending. Like talking to a child.

(Simon and Kyle would've tag teamed together to massage feeling back into them - They had once, when you feel through ice on a frozen lake.)

You were constantly tired now, something you chalked up to the amount of tests you had been put through the few days you were checked in.

(John would always purr to help you sleep, a commodity you missed. You wished he was here.)

The hunger was easily explained, the staff did forget to bring you food but you didn't want to bother them. They probably forgot because you still had no scent and were easily overlooked. You didn't blame them.

(Johmny would've never forgot, he was always making sure your plate was piled high.)

Everything was blurry now, your sight starting to go. Another temporary side effect someone assured you. You couldn't remember whose voice it was.

But it didn't matter, a scent was starting to form. You were going to be normal soon. And even if your body was in constant flight or fight, you were going to fit in.

The way the doctors were seemingly cruel didn't matter. The way the nurses purposefully took more blood to keep you dizzy and compliant was suddenly okay.

You didn't need to know the more your pack pleaded to be with you, the crueler they were. You didn't need to know it was an enemy in disguise, slowly killing you to get back at your pack. The "scent" was just a chemical by-product of your body reacting to all the medications it was being put through.

It would stay, of-course, you might even present with a second gender if it went on long enough.

You didn't need to know so they didn't tell you.

Time was getting hard to keep track of. Your sight was nearly gone, and your wounds were slow to heal. Every day was pain. You started to forget why you checked in.

It was harder to move now. Your limbs refused to respond to your commands. They were heavy and your mind was too clouded to question it.

Your scent was turning sickly and almost sweet. As if prepping itself for a reactionary heat.

The next time you came to, you didn't know what was happening. You could hear shouting and a monotone sound. You felt like you were floating.

That should worry you, you think.

Eletricity rakes your body suddenly, and you're grounded again. Sightless and unable to move. Pain wracking every thought that appears.

You lose yourself to the inky darkness again. Unable to place the fact that you could smell other's scents now.

More shouting. These voices were more familiar. It almost sounded like your pack but that couldn't be right, could it?

Hadn't they left you? Or had you left them? You couldn't remember, your mind too slow. You wanted to know, though.

You're able to force a small whine to leave your throat, the first sound besides screaming you had made in what felt like months. There's loud footsteps as someone rushes to your side.

"It's okay, it's okay, we've got you, lad," a familiar voice says. He smells like the ocean and the smoke that comes after an explosion. You like it, it wraps around you like a blanket. "...christ- look at 'em- what've they done to them?"

"We'll figure it out later, for now, its time to go," Another voice says, roughened by what you can assume is years of smoking. He smells like high-quality cigars and soft cedar wood, like the ones surrounding your house when you grew up. "Guns up, we go out blazing."

A new person picks you up, your body immediately curling into him. He smells like petricor and bourbon, tinged with cigarette smoke. He doesn't say another but you decide you like both of the new scents.

A hand smoothes your hair. The last person, he smells like ozone and the forest. You can't describe it, but his voice is low and soothing when he says, "we'll get you home sweets."

And that's the last thing you know before you lose yourself again. Comforted by people you can't remember but you were obviously important to them.

It takes months to heal in a normal hospital. Your sight still hasn't fully returned, but glasses help.

So does your pack. While the procedure somewhat worked, your scent came and went. You were more normal than before and even if everything hurt now and you had to do physical therapy, you felt like you belonged.

When you were first admitted, your body had gone through a heat. It presented as an omega, but that was the only instance of it. The staff had you on regular blockers now until your new hormones stabled out. It felt okay, for now.

That didn't change the hurt and all you went through, but it would be okay.

Especially when you were curled up in a temporary nest with your pack in the hospital.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: HELLO PEOPLE! I wrote this on my phone in under an hour so I hope everyone enjoys <3

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hatethysinner · 19 days ago

Note

Saw you were taking requests and I’ve been thinking about what would happen if one of your OCs gave Remmick a gift. You know this pathetic wet man would not have a normal reaction

ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ɢᴏᴅ

I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS REQUEST! i think it'd be so fun to return to my previous fics and do requested add-ons! no warnings for this, just pure unadulterated pathetic!remmick fluff. this will be a an add-on to the weary blues, but there's no need to read it before this one (though i do highly recommend it).

The hour was late. Not just late in the way clocks measured it, but in that shapeless, misty sort of late that made time feel slippery. The bookstore breathed around you, shelves and walls wrapped in deep shadow, the kind that folded itself politely out of the way so nothing would feel truly alone. No people passed outside. No wind stirred. Even the moths had given up circling the single lamp hanging on the other side of the tinted glass.

Remmick was here, of course.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, spine curved against a low shelf, thumbing absently through a forgotten paperback whose cover had long since faded. His coat was off, neatly folded over the back of your favorite armchair. His sleeves were rolled past the elbows, exposing pale forearms marked with the soft dents of old scars. Every few minutes, he glanced up. Not like he was expecting anything, just to check that you were still there.

That you hadn’t disappeared.

You were at the counter. Pretending to tidy something. A stack of journals, maybe, or that tin of bookmarks that no one ever bought but he always seemed to mess with. Your fingers moved in idle little patterns, but your mind wasn’t on the task.

It was on the box in your pocket.

Small. Softly wrapped. The kind of thing that would disappear in someone else’s hands, but felt almost too large here, in this strange, suspended pocket of midnight and quiet.

You hadn’t meant to give it to him tonight.

It hadn’t felt like the right time. Then again, you weren’t sure what the right time looked like. There were no birthdays tonight. No holidays. No calendar hanging by the register to count down days or circle occasions. There was only now. The dark, and the dust, and the low crackling of the candle you'd light when the chill tried to settle too deep into the floorboards.

But tonight had been soft. That rare kind of soft, the one that didn’t ask for anything but gave something anyway. You’d spent most of the evening in shared silence, passing dog-eared books back and forth, occasionally reading aloud when the words called for it. Remmick had listened like it meant something, like your voice could reshape the air around him if he let it. He hadn’t said much. He didn’t need to.

His presence was enough.

His quiet was never empty.

You watched him now as he flicked through another page, mouth twitching faintly at some line that landed just right. There was a smudge of ink on his finger, probably from that pen he kept tucked behind his ear. His hair had dried funny after his earlier shower, curling up at the ends like it had forgotten how to behave.

He looked good.

Not polished. Not composed. But full.

Alive in the way that only people who have been half-dead know how to be.

Your fingers brushed the edge of the box in your pocket again.

You weren’t sure what he’d do when he saw it. If he’d laugh. Or cry. Or try to give it back. He wasn’t used to gifts. He’d said that once. Quietly, like it wasn’t important, like it hadn’t gutted you on the spot.

He’d never had a proper gift before.

Not one that wasn’t transactional. Not one that wasn’t a favor owed or a mistake forgiven. Just… something someone saw and thought, this is his. Just because.

And yet you’d bought the cufflinks anyway.

Found them in a little antique shop two towns over, tucked away in a velvet-lined tray between cracked lockets and pins with missing stones. They weren’t flashy. Weren’t modern. Just a pair of old silver squares with the faintest etching at the edges.

You’d known they were his the second you saw them.

You weren’t sure why. Just that they were. Like they’d been waiting. Like he’d left them behind in some past life and they’d been clawing their way back to him ever since.

He shifted, drawing your attention back. His foot knocked against a stack of books, and he winced like he thought you might scold him.

You didn’t.

You just looked at him.

Really looked.

At the sharp angles that softened when he was tired. At the curl of his lashes, too long for someone who hated being seen. At the way he held the book like it was breakable, even though his own hands bore proof that he rarely was.

And suddenly, it didn’t matter what the right time was.

You just wanted him to know.

That he was thought of.

That he was wanted.

That something in this world had been chosen for him. Not because he earned it, not because he begged for it, but because someone looked at it and thought, yes, this belongs to you.

You closed the distance slowly.

Not rushed.

Not dramatic.

Just real.

And the box in your pocket felt heavier with each step.

“Hi,” he said, like he hadn’t already been in the same room with you for hours. His voice was soft, a little warm burst in the cold bookstore air, and when you looked at him fully, his whole face lit up. Like you were the one thing in the world he’d been waiting for all night, even though he’d never left your side. “Ya looked busy. Didn’t wanna bother ya.”

His thumb held his place in the book, but the rest of him leaned in your direction. Eager. Not in a loud, desperate way. Not like the first night, when he clung to your presence like it was the last lifeline he’d ever have. This was smaller. Gentler. The kind of eagerness that didn’t ask anything, only bloomed quiet and patient in your light.

You felt the box again, the corners pressing faintly into your palm where you'd slipped it free from your skirt. For a second, you hesitated. Not out of doubt, but because something about this felt so sacred, it needed to be right.

“You weren’t botherin’ me,” you said. Your voice was low, meant just for him. “I was just… thinkin’.”

He tilted his head, that little inquisitive tilt he always did when he sensed something beneath the surface. But he didn’t press. Not yet. He gave you the space, like always, but you could feel his attention. Sharp as a blade, soft as a breath.

You took the few remaining steps that brought you close, until you were standing in front of him. You didn’t sit down yet. You just watched him for a moment, memorizing the way he looked like this. Curled up and content, but always on the edge of some deeper ache.

“I have somethin’ for you.”

That got him. He blinked up at you, startled. His fingers fumbled slightly over the spine of the book, and he sat up straighter, gaze flicking between your face and your hands. “For me?” His voice cracked a little on the second word, like he didn’t quite believe it. “Why?”

You held out the small box. It wasn’t wrapped extravagantly, just enough to protect it, just enough to keep it a secret until now. He didn’t take it right away. He looked at it like it might vanish if he moved too fast.

“Because I saw it,” you said, your voice steady, “and I thought of you.”

That did it.

He reached out slowly, reverently, and took the box with both hands. His fingers hovered over the lid like he didn’t want to ruin whatever magic kept it sealed. For a second, he just stared. Then he glanced up at you again, like asking for permission. When you nodded, he opened it.

The cufflinks caught the faintest sliver of light from the lamp above. Silver. Old, quiet silver. The kind that never shouted for attention but demanded it anyway. Etched at the corners with delicate, almost-forgotten lines. Not a pattern, exactly. More like a memory.

Remmick went still.

Completely still.

Like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“...What are they?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, though he already knew. He just needed to hear it. Needed to make it real.

“Cufflinks,” you answered softly. “For when you want to feel like yourself. Or someone you used to be. Or someone you might become.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on them, wide and dark and glassy. His hands trembled a little. Just enough that you saw it. Just enough that he knew you saw it, too.

“I’ve never had…” He stopped. Swallowed hard. “Not like this. Not somethin’ just mine.”

You sat down next to him, close enough that your knees brushed. His shoulder leaned into yours automatically, seeking warmth, steadiness, anything to anchor himself in the moment.

“They’re yours,”

He exhaled, a long, shaky breath that sounded like it’d been trapped in his chest for years.

“Thank you,” he said, so quietly you barely caught it. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

He said it like a prayer.

Like the world was about to crack open under his feet and this was the only thing that might hold it together.

And he hadn’t even tried them on yet.

He kept staring at them like they might disappear if he blinked. Still cupped in his palms, the cufflinks looked small. Delicate, even. A stark contrast to the calloused stretch of his fingers. The silver caught the lamplight again, this time bending it into something gentler, something more secret. Like moonlight in a locked room.

“Do you wanna try them on?” you asked.

He startled, just a little, blinking up at you like he’d forgotten where he was. “Now?”

You nodded. “Unless you’d rather wait.”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly. His thumb brushed one of the cufflinks again, like he was reassuring himself they were real. “No, I-I wanna.”

You smiled. He looked like a man asked to wear something sacred, too stunned to argue but too enthralled to rush. You let the silence linger, soft as silk, while he reached slowly for the buttons at his wrist.

He worked them loose with unhurried hands, his sleeves coming undone without fanfare. You could see how he rolled his cuffs neatly back each time. Habit more than style, probably. He always looked like he was halfway between rest and running, like he never knew which the night, or you, would ask of him.

“Here,” you said, holding your hand out gently. “Let me.”

He hesitated for a breath, then gave you his left wrist.

His skin was warm. A little clammy, a little shaky, but he didn’t pull away. He let you unroll the cuff and align the holes, his knuckles twitching every time your fingers brushed bone. You took one cufflink, turned it just so, and slid it through with ease. It clicked softly, the metal cool against his pulse.

He stared at you the whole time.

Not intensely. Not like he did when he first met you, all nerves and hunger and that shaky, desperate pull. This was quieter. Like he couldn’t believe you were here, doing this. Like you were something delicate he was afraid to breathe too hard on.

You moved to his other wrist. He offered it just as easily.

The second cufflink slid in just as smooth. When it clicked into place, his breath caught.

Not loud. Not sharp.

And then you looked up, and the light hit his face differently.

It wasn’t dramatic, not really. The lamp on the shelf behind you didn’t flicker. The air didn’t shift. But something in his expression sharpened, just for a heartbeat. His lips parted slightly, and the faintest glint of teeth showed. Not sharp enough to be a threat, but too pointed to be forgotten. His canines always gleamed, small and precise and not quite right.

And his eyes. His eyes, already so deep and unreadable, caught a color you hadn’t noticed before. In the heart of that ancient blue, there was red. Not bright. Not fire. Just a thread of it, like old embers buried under ash. Watching. Waiting.

He didn’t blink.

You didn’t look away.

You liked his canines. You liked the strange glow in his eyes. The way it made him look like he belonged to something older than night. You didn’t flinch. You never had. Even when part of you knew, knew he wasn’t just some poor soul from the road. Even when nothing about him quite added up, you’d let him in anyway.

You smoothed down his cuff with your thumb.

“They suit you,” you said.

He blinked like he’d forgotten how to.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He looked down at his wrists, then turned them gently in the low light, watching the silver catch. His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. More of a stunned, breathless awe. Like you’d handed him a second name.

“Do I look,” he said, hesitating, “like I belong to somethin’?”

You paused. Then leaned in, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You look like you finally believe you do.”

He let out a small, helpless sound. Not a laugh. Not a sob. Just something deep and quiet that lived in his chest and finally found a way out. He pressed his cheek into your temple, breathing you in like he didn’t need air, just this.

His arms came around you, hesitant at first. Still so careful, like you might vanish. But you didn’t. You leaned into him, solid and real and warm, and he sank into it like it was the first real place he’d ever been allowed to rest.

For a long time, you didn’t speak. You just stayed like that, curled together on the floor between bookshelves and forgotten time. The town beyond the window didn’t exist. The cold couldn’t reach you here.

Eventually, he whispered, “Nobody’s ever given me anythin’ like this.”

You drew slow patterns on his sleeve. “You deserve things like this.”

He kissed your head. Not urgently. Not hungrily. Just once. Just thank you.

Then: “You’re not scared of me.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No,” you said, eyes closed.

Even when you should be. Even when something old stirred just beneath his skin. Even when the shadows moved different around him than they did around anyone else.

“No,” you said again.

He was quiet after that. His breath slowed. His shoulders eased. You stayed tucked into him, cufflinks catching the glow of your little lamp. He held you like a promise, soft and otherworldly, and you let him.

This was your secret, after all.

Yours and Remmick’s.

And out in the world, maybe that wouldn’t mean anything. Maybe they'd hate it if they knew.

But here, here in this forgotten bookstore, in the hush between hours where nothing else dared to breathe, it meant everything.

#remmick x reader #remmick #remmick x you #sinners #sinners movie #sinners 2025 #remmick sinners #remmick fluff #fluff #black!reader #black!fem!reader #remmick x black!reader #i love drabbles who would've thought #this was srsly so fun to write pls give me more yall #inboxxx #request #drabble

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personasintro · 2 years ago

Text

Mutual Help | #57

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.2k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

When you truly think about it, you've probably let Jungkook in in more ways than one. Being in his presence is tempting. He is a temptation that messes up with your head. It is one of the reasons why you think the so-called break has been a smart decision. But he's not all that. He is still the same Jungkook whose presence is comforting. It's times like these when you're reminded of how much you love your friends.

Catching up with him and talking about how the day has been for each of you, isn't something new. There's not that much that has changed. You only stopped fucking each others brains out. Though, you hate how much you already miss it. And you shouldn't feel like this. But you also don't want to overthink anything, or keep your mind busy with something that's probably better not to think about.

Your dreams have been wild, the only time where you actually go back to how things were. Not all of them though. Maybe two or three since the camping trip and your decision.

Despite the inner struggles, Jungkook is your comfort person. Oddly enough, even though he's in the center of your thoughts, he brings you the biggest peace and comfort.

Tonight wasn't planned.

Luckily, you're always prepared when it comes to unplanned visits. All three of them love to surprise you (not that you mind), so your cupboard is never without at least one bottle of wine. Not being a much of a drinker yourself on casual evenings, you still suggest having a glass or two.

Jungkook agrees. After reminding you of him having to drive back home, you suggest him staying over. He agrees again. Maybe him staying overnight might not be the best for your hormones, you are forced to believe in yourself. Isn't this the whole purpose of this? To go back to just being friends, the ones you've been two years ago?

When you think about those times, you think of happiness. Surrounded by the greatest friends you could've ever asked for.

“Mind opening it?”

Jungkook looks up, finding you standing in your kitchen with a bottle of wine in your hand, a wine opener in the other. Standing up, he goes to help you without any words but there's a slight amused smirk on his lips when you hand him everything.

You share a look, not forgetting to playfully roll your eyes at him.

“So many bottles of wine and still can't open any of them.” he teases you, hinting at all the wine one of them had to open.

“Listen,” you muse, “You guys always whine about wanting to drink wine.”

“That's not true,” he laughs, knowing that he's bluffing. “We would drink anything.” he adds, which holds some truth to it for sure.

Feigning irritation, you motion for him to hurry. You watch him attentively, leaning yourself against a kitchen counter while he puts those muscles to work. He cuts the foil below the lower lip of the bottle, showing you how easy it is with a teasing tilt to his brow. Trying to hold back your laugh, you purse your lips instead before he inserts the screw in the center of the cork. He rotates it a few times, you're not sure because his eyes are on you.

“You're so cocky.” you comment, his brows shooting up as he lets out an audible laugh.

“What? I am not,” he argues, laughing. “You're just too amusing to look at.”

He levers cork, at least he tries to because it seems to be stuck. It's going harder than usual, which you can tell from all the times you had the opportunity to see a similar scene. His brows furrow and lips press into a thin line.

You cackle, “Maybe you got too cocky, buddy.”

“Shut up.” he mutters, his muscles bulging as a pop sound resounds, signaling the cork is levered successfully.

Maybe not so much, because in a seconds the wine spills around Jungkook, staining his shirt as well. You gasp, a hand over your mouth as you two share a look. Bursting out laughing, you shake your head.

“What did I say, too cocky.”

“Would you do it better?” he challenges, causing your grin to drop as your eyes narrow.

He puts the bottle down, the wine opener already in your sink as you grab a few kitchen paper towels and dry off all the spilled wine. Luckily, it's just a few droplets and no disaster is made. However, Jungkook's shirt has suffered the most. His entire white shirt is filled with dark red spots, turning purple from the wine's color.

He sighs in a slight annoyance, easily grabbing the back of his shirt as he effortlessly pulls it over his head. Almost choking on your spit, you try to not react too much as you quickly throw away the wet paper into the bin. But you straighten yourself too quickly, almost bumping into Jungkook's chest as you stare wide-eyed at him. He looks down on you, confused by your almost panic-struck face.

“What? Already too nervous at the sight of my chest?” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips, trying to play it cool as you chuckle. “You got naked all of a sudden. You just caught me off guard.”

“Is this me naked?” he laughs, “Come on.”

“You know what I meant.” you say through clenched teeth, poking him in his stomach, ignoring how hard it feels. “Besides,” you start, gulping. “Break, remember?”

“I just took my shirt off,” he laughs, throwing his head back as you're met with his soft dimples and white toothy grin. “You never minded it before.”

“I never fucked you before, did I?” You lean yourself against the counter once again, hand gripping the edge of it tightly.

Jungkook notices it, his amusement not so hidden behind the little twitch of his lips. Eyes back on you, they dance across your soft and slightly panicked features. “Am I that irresistible?”

“Cocky again?” you shoot right back, not giving him that pleasure of confirming his thoughts and feeding his ego. But he knows. One look at you and he seems to know it all.

You make a mistake by allowing your eyes to drop, first at his lips and they disobediently trace down his chest, muscles and then the deep V-line. Oh fuck, you want this man . You mentally scream at yourself and throw hands, definitely disappointed in yourself. He's barely doing anything and you're ready to drop down on your knees.

“What's the point of taking a break, if we can't control ourselves?” you ask out loud, not quite sure if those words are only aimed at Jungkook, or you're letting your consciousness speak out loud.

He watches you for a moment, getting closer and you stumble back, awkwardly getting back to your previous spot as he tries to hold back a laugh. It's not your fault your body is reacting! And your mind panicked.

“Don't know about you, but I can control myself.” he says.

“You can?” you ponder.

“Mhm,” he nods, “Otherwise I would kiss you by now.”

“Kook!” you exclaim, already panting at those words as he gives you a smile. You don't look long enough to detect what kind.

“I would.” He's not ashamed to admit it.

You watch him wet his lips. They look inviting. Automatically, your mind replays many times you've got to taste them, actually more than that. Your entire body feels hot, too hot in this small kitchen and you don't know whether to scream or cry.

“Break, remember?” he reminds you, a smirk dancing all over those damn lips and stunning features. He brushes past you, the stained shirt gripped in his hold as he makes his way to your bathroom.

You don't move. You can't.

All you muster to do is gulp all the saliva that have collected in your mouth, touching your hot cheeks with the back of your hand. Letting out a loud exhale, you ignore your strong heartbeat that feels like it's in your neck.

Quickly grabbing the two glasses for you and him, you ignore the sharp ringing sound. Suddenly, you're desperate for the wine – very happy about your friends insisting to have one at your place at all times.

Perhaps, wine is not what you're desperate for at all.

This is exactly what you were talking about.

Among all the things that are going against the morality of any friendship, thinking of Jungkook a certain way feels forbidden. And it should be. Maybe it is a little dramatic because it's not like you spend every minute of your day, thirsting over your best friend. But you've caught yourself thinking of him a few times a day.

Just a few days after you came back from the trip, Maya visited your place for the first time. In fact, she sat on the exact spot where Jungkook is sitting right now. At first, you never felt like bothering her with your stupid shit, especially when she's in the middle of planning her wedding while working every day like a normal human being.

But you couldn't take it.

You wanted to take things off your mind, undoubtedly connected to only one person who's closest to you. Now in more ways than two years ago.

However, you did want to get things off your chest as well and eventually, you've found your way back to him.

“I think I made a bad decision.” you told her when the topic Jungkook started.

Now, Maya might be the person who absolutely understands the craving and temptation he brings inside you, but she has also become your best friend whom you can share your inner battles with.

“I shouldn't feel this way.”

“First of all, I think it might be a good decision to stop thinking of what should and shouldn't feel right. You're overthinking it.” she told you, ignoring your slightly offended look you sent her way.

“He's my best friend.” you gritted through your teeth, suddenly growing overwhelmed with those thoughts again.

Deep down, you know you made the right decision. You know the reason why you made it in the first place. Yet, here you are, regretting it.

“Y/N, honey,” Maya's silky and comforting voice caught your attention. She angled her body toward you, leaning her head against her palm. “That feeling of… wanting him is not gonna go away with a snap of fingers.”

You frowned. You frowned for a while while she let you ponder in silence.

“I did it so we could focus on being friends. No intimacy.” you almost whispered, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“And it's okay still wanting him to bend you over and fuck you.”

“Maya!”

You both laughed, the girly laugher filling your once quiet and sad place.

“It's okay to have regrets. Just go with the flow.”

That's the last thing she advised you before you asked her about the wedding. She advised you something you and Jungkook did – and look where it brought you.

Luckily for your sake, Jungkook has had a shirt in one of your drawers, the result of him staying at your old place a few times. Actually, you're sure there are a few Taehyung's things in one of your drawers as well.

Gulping down your nerves with your wine, you naturally grow warm and relaxed. You barely pay any attention to the movie, focusing on how Jungkook's shoulder and side of his body feels… nice. You tend to get sleepy and cuddly (among other things) when tipsy. You're on your third glass of wine, nowhere near drunk but the exhaustion of today has caught up to you.

Jungkook's legs are outstretched, resting on your coffee table which you used to scold him for. Even though you often caught yourself doing the very same thing. Is it fair to scold someone for things you do as well?

“Kook?”

“Hm?” The soft, yet husky hum resounds from the man beside you, his hands resting on his stomach.

“What do you think about… the break ?” You cringe at giving it a proper name.

Though, Jungkook understands what you mean. He's quiet for a moment and when you lift your head up, you see his confused expression before his eyes settle down on you.

“Because you never told me what you think.”

Staring at him, you notice his hair is longer than the last time you've seen him. It's not been that long ago, yet you notice the small change. You wonder if he's going to grow it out like last time.

“Why you asking? Already regretting it, hm?” he teases, nudging you a little as your cheeks heat up.

“What? No!” It sounds like a proper lie and your throat tightens.

Whether Jungkook knows it or not, he decides not to tease you any further as his eyes focus on the screen of your television once again.

“I don't know what I think of it,” he responds after a while. “You told me the reason behind it and I respect it.”

“But do you agree with it?”

“Where is this coming from?” he frowns, though it's soft and confusing, just like your little and sudden integration is.

“Can you just answer?” you ask in annoyance.

“Yeah, I agree with it.” He says, “Maybe we got carried away too much.”

He leans forward, causing your head no longer leaning against him as he grabs his glass of wine and takes a few sips of it before getting back to his previous position. This time, you're watching him attentively. Your head leaned against the couch while the movie goes completely ignored. You watch the dark liquid in his glass, swirling it around.

Did you get carried away too much?

The only thing that changed was the fact you were having sex. Okay . Plus the never-ending thirst and temptation. Jungkook has shown you a different side of sex, something you've never experienced before. Perhaps, that's the reason why it felt so hard to let go.

And you panicked. With the events that happened lately, you felt like you wanted to go back to when none of this happened. But were your arguments happening because you were having sex?

“Do you miss it?”

Jungkook's brows lift up as you earn another glance from him. “You asking me if I miss fucking you?”

Your face gets hot all over again. “When you put it like this…”

He chuckles, leaning his head back as he stares at the ceiling. “It's been like a week.” he informs you.

As if you don't know. And what a week it has been!

You're just curious, blaming it on the wine because your thoughts are set free.

“I hope you know that when I look at you, sex isn't what I see.”

You look at him, ears perked up in attention as your heart flutters. “I know.” you whisper.

“I'm not Taehyung. I can go without sex.” he says, a loud snort rippling through your throat as you cover your mouth. He gives you an amused grin.

A silence follows and your thoughts work. Actually, they never stopped and now the alcohol inside you just urges them on.

“I had a sex dream of you.”

Completely oblivious of Jungkook taking another sip, he chokes on the dark liquid as he straightens himself from his position, gulping before coughing. “Jesus, Y/N.”

You give him an amused grin. “It was hazy. It didn't feel like a proper dream, you know what I mean? I feel like I had five dreams that night.”

It's true. You had a dream with him. It was very brief, much to your disappointment it ended too soon.

“This makes me sound like I'm thinking with my dick only.”

“You have no dick, Y/N.” Jungkook reminds you, snickering.

“You know what I mean.” you mutter in response.

Jungkook settles down his wine. He's a little surprised to see you sitting up, watching him attentively as he leans back. “What?”

“Nothing, you look good.”

For the second time tonight, Jungkook almost chokes on his spit. Shaking himself out of the sudden shock, he clears his throat. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” you say like it's the clearest thing in the world. “Just saying.”

He frowns, eyeing you suspiciously. As if he can't quite figure out what's going on inside your head. “Are you drunk?”

Jungkook knows you and your limits. You're a little tipsy, so is he but you definitely seem to show it more than he is.

“No.”

You sigh, sitting onto your heels before briefly tracing the veins that adore Jungkook's hands and arms. Is it June night or has it suddenly gotten too warm?

Jungkook catches you eyeing him, trying to hide his subtle smirk. He knows. “Break, remember?”

“Mhm,” you hum, completely ignoring the little reminder. “What a stupid idea.”

“Okay, I think you're drunk.”

“No, I am not.” you argue, frowning at him as he watches you in complete amusement. “I've thought about it a lot.”

“Is the wine making you horny?” Jungkook questions.

No, you do.

Though, you keep your mouth shut. You ignore him. “I know why I made that decision…” you trail off.

Jungkook raises his brow, waiting for you to continue. But? It's written all over his face.

“I miss you.”

He stares, blinking a few times. “You mean you miss my–”

“No, no. Maybe. I mean, no. You're not just that to me–” you quickly hurry to explain.

The problem is, you're not sure how to explain whatever it is you want to say. Whatever you think of pours out of your mouth. Usually you have enough time to think of what you're about to say, but right now you're unhinged. Maybe it's the result of your own frustration.

He is patient.

He's confused as fuck, well probably – at least you think so because his expression is neutral and he simply watches you, not ushering to explain or elaborate more.

He watches your eyes dance across the space around him, until your eyes settle on him. Then wander over his body until you shamelessly eye his wet lips, tainted by wine a little. He knows that look. He has seen it on many occasions.

“I'm not drunk, I promise.” you suddenly tell him. “I know I make no sense right now but…”

“Tell me what you want,” he tells you simply. “What's going on inside that pretty head?”

And you almost fold immediately, cursing that mouth of his.

“Trust me, it's not that pretty right now.” you mutter.

He laughs, “I can imagine.”

Ignoring what's that supposed to mean , you shift on your spot. “I know I wanted a break, but what if we did this one last time?”

You hate how nervous you suddenly feel. Is it embarrassing to admit such a thing? The last time you had a sex it wasn't under great conditions. It was mind-blowing and definitely did the work, but still.

Scooting closer to him, he attentively watches you as you lick your lips. “I mean… There's something I would like to try. And I trust you the most.”

Jungkook pulls his feet off the coffee table, setting them down on the floor as you make your way toward him. He lets you. He even helps you to sit down in his lap. Your hands are sprawled across his chest, slowly caressing the thin material as you feel his muscles under it.

“You're finally gonna let me fuck this ass?” he asks, eyes hooded lazily as he grabs your ass and squeezes the soft flesh.

Excitement floods your lower region, what could be considered as butterflies swirl inside your stomach.

“Fuck no,” you breathe out, “You're not going anywhere near my ass.”

Jungkook pouts, cheeks tinted pink from the wine he has drank. “Shame.”

You giggle, “Just one more time.” you tell softly, inching closer as your lips hover over his.

He breathes out, nose nudging yours. One thing is sure, alcohol sometimes makes both of you horny. You're not the type to go and look for a potential hook-up out there. And neither is Jungkook. At least you think so.

“You agree?”

“You're making this very hard for me, you know that, right?” Jungkook mutters, lips almost touching yours as his hold on your asscheeks tightens.

“Why's that?” you hum, teasingly playing with his hair until your fingers caress the nape of his neck.

“You just do,” he says before adding, “First you want a break and now you're on my lap, giving me those eyes.”

“What eyes?” you play clueless, causing him to chuckle.

“Those fuck me eyes.”

“You said you wanted to kiss me in the kitchen.”

“I did.” he hums, agreeing.

“You want this too, right?”

He looks up, lazily, eyes clouded with need and lust.

Again. He is your comfort place. He is comfortable and being in a position like this – you've got no regrets and you want him. Even if it's for the last time for God knows how long. There's no telling if you're ever going back to hooking-up. Usually, that is the plan when there's a word break involved.

Fuck focusing on your friendship for now. What did Maya say? Go with the flow?

“Yeah, but I don't want you to regret anything.”

“I'm never gonna regret this.”

You're not sure who moves first. Whether it's you or Jungkook, it doesn't matter. Your lips finally meet in a hard kiss, molding together as he deepens it. He kisses you, hard and needy, and you almost cry at that feeling. Fuck, you really did miss this. Before you can think of how wrong this might be, your want for him, you completely ignore it. Any possible morals are out of the window as you gasp into Jungkook's mouth.

He tastes like wine. You both do.

Eventually, you're forced to pull away to catch a breath. Jungkook's crotch underneath you hardens, informing you that he's aroused just as much as you are.

“What you had in mind?” he asks, voice raspy.

Pulling away with a smile, you turn off the television as you stretch your hand toward him. He watches you, slowly taking it as his big hand envelopes yours. He gets to his feet, his lean and hard body touching your side as you grow impatient. You lead him toward your bedroom, closing the door with a loud thud but not before turning off the lights in your living room. The bills are important, right?

Jungkook stands at the edge of your bed before you swiftly push him, causing him to sit down with a tiny smirk. Ignoring the smug face, you stand between his legs.

“Should I be worried?” he asks, hands on your hips as he caresses them. Trying not to swoon too much over that simple action, you pry his hands off you.

“Lay down.”

His brows raise momentarily.

“I see.” he mutters knowingly.

“Now.” you urge him, glaring at his smirk widening. “Wait.”

He cocks his brow at you.

“Take off the damn shirt.”

He chuckles, reaching behind him and tugging the shirt over his head. Fuck . Does he have to look attractive even while taking his shirt? God. Fucking hell. You did miss him.

Tossing the shirt on the floor, he sits there watching you up and down as you just stand there and admire his figure. One he worked hard for, yet it paid off entirely.

Fucking wine.

Before you can demand another thing, he gives you one last look of amusement before he scurries further down your mattress. You watch him lay down, making himself comfortable on your pillows as he leans his upper body against the bed frame. What a sight he is.

He watches you, silently and attentively, the entire time you get to your closet. You slide the door open, rummaging the bottom of it. His eyes are on you. You feel them on your back, watching your every move. While the fire that sits in the pit of your stomach, full of excitement, you pull out the item you've been looking for.

Just as you slide the closet door closed and turn around to face him, you see his smirk drop as he stares genuinely taken back. Now it's your turn to smirk as you swirl the fluffy pink handcuffs Taehyung kindly gifted you around your point finger.

“Fuck no.”

The response is immediate.

You get on the bed, taking the handcuffs with you of course. Jungkook watches you with a frown settled on both his face and lips. You get onto his lap, sitting right on top of his hardening cock.

“Why not?”

“I'm not getting handcuffed.” he states, eyeing you carefully as you place them beside you and start caressing his naked chest.

It's clear to say you want to be in control. It's debatable though. Whenever Jungkook has shown his dominant side when it came to sex, you were just as much in control. And you love and enjoy every second of him being in charge. This time, you want to be on top and play with him. Or maybe that sounds wrong. You want to give him pleasure, focus on him. To try something new.

You get closer to Jungkook, kissing his sharp jaw as he clenches it, watching you carefully but not moving just yet. You're sly. He's reminded of you being a little minx. You continue your path down his neck, kissing his skin as his chest moves, breathing slow and steady. His chest is neck, you pepper the skin with soft kisses just as you stop below the hem of his jeans.

He bites onto his lower lip harshly, meeting your gaze as you look up through your lashes.

“Can I take them off?” you ask, talking about his jeans.

“You don't have to ask.”

You grin, reaching for the belt as you undo it. His button and zipper are next before Jungkook helps you to take off his jeans.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” you tell him, eyeing his hardening and evident erection. “Can I make you feel good?”

“Fuck,” he sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “You wanna be in control, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “What? You think I can't do it?”

His lips twitch. “No, no.” he assures you, though you're not sure if he's telling the truth.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you cup his bulge as you get on your knees, leaning down to his crotch. You palm him, his jaw clenched while you're trying not to moan at the feeling of his hard cock. Just the thought of pulling him out and having him inside you makes you wet.

Giving him one last look, you momentarily stop before you lean down completely and press a kiss to where his tip is, on top of his briefs.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps. “You're already teasing me.”

“What? No. I'm just taking my time.” you assure him cutely, smirking up at him which tells him otherwise.

Before he can react, you lift yourself up and carefully straddle him. You reach for the handcuffs, ignoring the way his cock is almost digging into your own crotch.

“Y/N.” he warns you.

You pout at him. “But why?” you almost whine. “You scared of handcuffs or what?”

“Keep talking and you're gonna be the one handcuffed.”

“I promise I won't do anything bad.”

He watches you, frowning and not totally sold on your idea. It definitely has something to do with his male ego. Jungkook is naturally dominant and while he had you on top multiple times, you never handcuffed him or showed this type of dominance. You reach for your oversized shirt, tugging it over your head as you expose your breasts to him. He gulps, watching the way they bounce from the single movement. Your nipples are already perked up, sensitive like always and perhaps, it's from the arousal as well.

He goes to touch them, mindlessly and automatically. His mouth opens in shock when you slap his hand away, even though you want nothing more than for him to touch you.

“What–”

“I wanna try this, Kook.” You're playing with him already. You pout and give him the puppy eyes, finger trailing down his abs. “You always asked what I want to try and this is one of them.”

He sighs, hand rubbing his forehead. “Fuck, okay.”

“Really?”

Jungkook almost smiles at how excited you sound. What the hell are you planning?

In reality, you're just going with the flow.

You reach for the handcuffs, knowing they're going to work well with your bed frame. You can easily handcuff both of Jungkook's hands. But just as you're about to reach for his hands, he automatically pulls away which causes you to give him a glare. He rolls his eyes, offering you his wrists. You sit on your knees, telling him to lay down completely. He does, with the same frown that makes you giggle under your breath. You take his wrists and bring them up to your bed frame.

Jungkook takes that time to watch you work on the handcuffs from below, feeling them wrapping around his wrists. Wanting to curse, he drifts his attention elsewhere and watches your breasts that are right above him.

You pull back with a successful and triumphal grin, watching him tugs onto them. While he mentally curses Taehyung for giving you such a stupid gift ever, you admire your work. You lean forward again, making sure they hold and Jungkook takes that time enveloping your nipple into his mouth. You gasp and flinch at the sudden feeling, pulling back to find smirking Jungkook.

“Couldn't resist,” he says cheekily.

Despite his current and clearly submissive position, he looks anything like it. He's here, your cheeks hot and heart beating fast. You don't think you'll ever grow tired of him showing his crave for you. You've said it multiple times in your head, but you've never felt wanted as much as you feel with Jungkook.

“Well, then start resisting.” you say smartly, ignoring the smug face. “Stop looking so cocky, you bastard.”

But he doesn't stop. He's smirking, looking at you because despite everything, he's in control. Frowning at that, even though you secretly love it, you stand up and get out of your pajama shorts. Revealing that you aren't wearing any underwear, Jungkook watches you hungrily, his head lifted thanks to the pillows under it. He's got a good view of you at the end of your bed.

You smirk. Men. One look at a naked body and they fold.

“Come here and sit that pussy on my mouth.”

Or not.

You give him a look, seeing him lazily lay there with his arms above his head.

“You don't get to make demands.” you inform him, watching that smug face wipe away slowly.

While you're completely naked, you sit on his calves and lean down to play with the hem of his briefs.

“This is torture,” he informs you back. “This is exactly why I didn't wanna be in these fucking handcuffs.”

“Already complaining?” you throw back.

He presses his lips into a tight line, keeping quiet.

Torturing a little more, you hover him once more with lips dangerously close to his. “That's what I thought.”

He chases your lips but you pull away, giggling when you're met with the usual frown.

Getting back to your position, you pull down his underwear. His cock springs free, shamelessly slapping against his abdomen before it stands upright. Minus the little facade that you have going on of planning to tease him, you're just as desperate to move further if not more.

So you wrap your hand around the base of him, wrapping your lips around the tip as you taste his pre-cum. Jungkook sighs in delight, allowing himself to close his eyes in a sudden relief. You lick the underside of him, knowing what you have to do since you've done it multiple times before. This is nothing new, yet it still feels amazing each time.

The handcuffs make a sound against the wooden frame, just as you let your mouth wrap around him some more, taking him deeper. The clank of them makes you look up, biting back a laugh when you see Jungkook's frustrated face.

“What were you gonna do?”

He growls, warning you not to tease him some more. Well, it surely isn't as much fun for him as it is for you, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy it. It makes sense. This is the first time where Jungkook can't touch you because he's physically unable to. You understand the frustration, you do. With a silent promise, you make it worth it.

Putting his cock inside your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and deliver him pleasure. Your hand and mouth works on him, and not even hair getting into your face stops you. You know if it weren't for Jungkook's hands not being available at the moment, he would wrap his hand around it, making sure it doesn't get in the way and he can see you.

“Mhm, yeah.” He mutters from above you, enjoying your mouth wrapped around him.

It's not enough, you know it isn't but you're not planning to make him cum. You've barely started and in order for him to enjoy this, there's more you want to do. You don't want to make it lame since this is your first time doing this. You're not going to lie. You like having him this… helpless. You enjoy it, it's a nice change from the usual cockiness.

You eventually pull away, making sure to suck him until the last minute. A trail of saliva connects the tip of his cock and your lips, causing you to wipe it with your thumb. He watches you the entire time with dark eyes, not questioning why you stopped.

This time, he lets you be in control because you don't look like you're about to deny his orgasm and make him truly suffer. On the opposite, he stares at you attentively as you simply turn around and throw your leg over his chest, facing him with his back.

“Fuck.” he curses silently from behind you, watching you lean forward to his cock once again.

However this time, your ass and cunt are right in his face. He sees how wet you are, just that alone makes him smirk because he knows you won't be able to withhold your own pleasure for much longer. After all, it does make his ego bigger knowing you're affected. You're clueless to his inner thoughts, even though you do realize how wet you are, it doesn't even cross your mind, not even when the air hits your core.

It's not until you have Jungkook's cock back in your mouth when you suddenly feel his mouth on you. You don't expect the swipe of his tongue, gathering your juices which makes you flinch in surprise. Throwing him a glance across your shoulder, you're met with the same cockiness you've seen a handful of times.

“Lemme eat this pussy out.” he almost begs.

“How am I supposed to focus then?” you question, the remains of wine causing you to speak your thoughts right away.

His lips twitch. You give him no reaction though, letting it up to him as you turn around and arch your back. Jungkook is a menace. He gets what he wants either way, shameless as ever as his mouth envelopes your clit as he sucks.

You gasp, leaning your forehead against his thigh while your hand stops working on his hard cock. For fuck sake. Frustration is what you feel because for a split second, you realize Jungkook is in control. He eats you out, your body and determination practically begging to be touched. Reminding yourself that this is not supposed to be totally about you, you force your hand to get to work. You're realizing you're not doing a half of a good job at delivering pleasure at the moment.

“Focus,” Jungkook says against your leaking cunt. You can imagine his mouth already being soaked in your juices, dripping it down his chest. Even the single imaginary sight of that makes you want to let out the biggest groan. “I thought you're great at multitasking.”

Apparently not when it comes to this , you want to bite back but you can't. You simply cannot. It's like the moment Jungkook touches you, you're already gone.

Somehow, after a moment of realization and determination yet again, you take him into your mouth.

“That's it,” he groans against you, sending vibrations right to your core. The wet sounds coming from behind you create a sinful proof of your doings, ones you don't mind at all.

You're close.

You can't focus.

Not with Jungkook's mouth that skilfully slowly but surely brings you to your end. And then the cocky bastard opens his dirty mouth again, not minding what it's been doing, not even a bit.

“Wanna spread this cunt. Come on, rub yourself against me.”

Ignoring Jungkook's pleas of wanting to be suffocated by your pussy, you shake yourself out of a familiar daze full of desire and lust. This bastard!

You pull away, not only to give him one last taste of your mouth, but also taking the approaching orgasm from yourself. Jungkook's quiet until a noise of both surprise and disappointment fills your bedroom. You get off his lap, facing him while you give him a perfect view of your messy appearance. One he's undoubtedly the reason for.

“Why would you do that?” he whines, tugging onto the handcuffs again. His face grows frustrated at the restraint.

And then it's gone. What was a frustration just a second ago, you watch his entire face morph into a perfect slowly growing smirk.

He's satisfied. Satisfied that once again, he proved you just how much control he has over you even with barely any way of touching you. He can't use his hands, he can barely move as they stay handcuffed above him, secured around your bed headframe. But that hasn't stopped him. No. He was cunning enough that at the first chance of being somewhat close to you, he used his mouth.

“You'll pay for that.” you inform him, trying to keep your features hardening and not to melt when Jungkook's lips stretch into a wide grin.

“For what?” he scoffs, “For almost making you cum?”

Ignoring the obvious and amused jab at you nearly losing it (when he's the one handcuffed), you nibble on your inner cheek.

“Come on, free me now. You had your fun.”

Your eye almost twitches at that.

“Lemme fuck you, you love it from behind, huh?”

Despite his nasty words leaving your stomach fluttering, more than it should, you don't let him get past your walls. You sigh, loud so he can hear it perfectly and maybe make him feel unsure of what's about to come. He stays silent. Watching you as you reach for your nightstand, you feel his eyes appreciating your nudity before they go back to wondering what you're doing.

You pull out the sex-toy he gifted you, the one you both used two or three times. His brows are pinched together, probably wondering what and who you're going to use it for.

Now, since you've never done this with Jungkook before, you being in full control which has proved to be debatable, you've no idea how he will possibly react. You can only assume. From being in an intimate relationship with Jungkook, you've learned a lot. Apart from the physical side of your own sexual preferences and desires, you've come to notice how Jungkook loves to feel you up. He loves to touch you, explore your body each time like he has never done before.

Even without having many sexual partners before, it's safe to say you've never felt more comfortable than being in Jungkook's hands. Quite literally. The way he touches you… he knows what he's doing.

Obviously, this is in a way a punishment for him. Actually, now that you think about it, you're not sure if he's doing it purely because you want to, or because of another reason.

So when you place yourself at the end of your bed, making sure you have enough space to lay down, you do exactly that. With one swift movement, you spread your legs apart, giving him a full on view on the thing he couldn't get enough of.

All cockiness is smeared off his face. And while triumph burns inside you – from this great achievement – a realization hits him.

“No.” he murmurs, watching the way you smirk as you turn on the sex-toy. You bring the fake imitation of cock to your clit, moaning at the vibration as soon as it touches you.

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, there's a clank resounding in front of you as your lips twitch. “I'm definitely having my fun now.”

“I was–I was just teasing. Come back here, baby.”

You should've probably taped his mouth shut. The freaking petname really tests your patience and determination.

“I'm serious.”

But he's ignored by you, at least you act like you can't hear him, enjoying the way he groans in protest. However, you can be just as teasing and you moan loudly, letting the dildo's tip enter you.

“Y/N,” he growls, “This is not funny.”

“Oh, fuck.”

You would have laughed if you weren't so focused. The truth is, you're sensitive down there – something that's caused by Jungkook and his always running mouth. As much as you itch to get to him and toss the sex-toy as far as possible, you don't give him that satisfaction. At least, not now.

“Who's in control now, Jeon?” you hum, opening your eyes clouded by both amusement and lust.

“Okay, I get it.” he grits through his teeth. “Come here.”

“Say it nicely and maybe I'll consider.”

If looks could kill, you're sure you would be six feet under. But one moment of leaning your head down, moaning out loud, you notice his jaw clenching before he clears his throat.

“Come here,” he says softly.

Cracking your eyes, you grin in achievement as you sit up. You're too impatient, you want to touch him. No scratch that. You want to feel him. You want him inside you. But you're playing your part in this act, making it seem as if you have all the time in the world.

You turn off the sex-toy, the one he probably mentally curses for buying, and you come closer to him. The expectation and despair on his face makes you want to laugh. He's cute. And freaking hot too.

His chest heaves, it glistens with a sheer coat of sweat. His cologne and scent that's glued to his skin has filled your bedroom. He watches you carefully, almost as if he expects you to tease him more. But when you sit back down on his thighs, facing him, he sighs in relief. His cock begs for attention and you give him a few pumps, ones that make his eyes flutter shut as he gets what he wants. Partly.

You leave the dildo next to you, planning on using it later as you glance at your nightstand. A look of surprise and then disappointment fills your face, one that Jungkook quickly questions.

“What?”

“I've got no condoms. You have some with you?”

Jungkook snickers, “You mean did I bring condoms with me when you decided to have a break from this ?”

You give him a glare, “I wasn't planning on having sex.”

“Do I look like I was?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“Don't you have them with you most of the time?”

“Clearly not,” he rolls his eyes, “What's the issue anyways? I haven't had sex with anyone else.”

You're the one who rolls their eyes now, “You would be really quick if you have. It's been like a week since the trip.”

Deep down, you know Jungkook could've gone anywhere and had sex during this week. If he wanted to.

“And you know it's not about that.” you add.

“Let's end this with a bang. Since you know, we're not supposed to have sex then.”

“Are you mocking me?” you frown. He purses his lips to avoid smirking.

“What did you say? One last time?”

“You know, keep talking and I'm gonna finish myself in front of you.”

“Not what I had in mind but,” he acts as if he's thinking hard. “It would still be something. I love that cunt.”

Almost choking on your spit, you quickly recover. You need to wipe that smirk off his face. “Or I could just leave you here, handcuffed and naked.”

“You wouldn't!” he exclaims.

“Try me.”

He shakes his head with a disapproving frown. “We don't have that many options. Either raw or go to sleep.”

What are you even talking about? Your coincidence scolds you.

“You're right,” you say, already hovering. “I love this cock.” you tell him cheekily, watching his eyes widen just as you grab him by the base.

You bring it to your entrance, teasing him a little (and yourself too) but the glare he gives you just prolongs it. He lifts his hips, almost entering you and you gasp, giggling.

“Who's impatient now?”

“You're testing my patience right now.”

“If I were you, I wouldn't talk too much.” you hum, warning him cutely which causes his features to harden. Oh my god, perhaps you're enjoying this way more than you thought you would!

Despite everything, you don't want to deprive him and yourself of the pleasure. It's easier to give him one cheeky grin as you guide him to your entrance. His eyes dance across your exposed breasts, looking down at where you're about to connect. That's enough for you to slowly sink down his length, gritting your teeth from the immediate heat that swallows you whole.

Sex is amazing. But sex with Jungkook has shown you it's more than that.

You would've never thought how addicted you can become to this. Maybe it's a little too dangerous but you don't seem to care. Not at the moment anyway, not when he spreads your folds and stretches your warm and wet walls. Oh god.

It takes you a moment to fully sink down on him, his hard length settled inside of you as you feel every inch of him. Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. Though, he doesn't usher you to move and gives you space to get used to him. You swear you can feel him in your stomach.

Starting to roll your hips, your clit brushes against his pubes as his jaw tightens once again. That's not enough for him, but he doesn't voice the annoyance and frustration just yet. He lays his head down properly, dark eyes watching you and the way your body rolls.

You bite your bottom lip, momentarily closing your eyes just to open them and see him staring. “You like that, baby?” you joke, watching his hardening features turn into amused once as you both giggle.

“Baby?”

“You call me that too.”

“Mhm, I do.” he hums as you spread your palms over his chest and lean forward. “You love it.”

“Maybe a little bit too much.” you confess, laughing at your obvious confession.

And then you lift your hips, his cock rubbing against your wall which quickly wipes away his smirk. You let the head of his cock stay inside you, his entire length coated with your juices.

“Don't play with me,” he says. “This is torture.”

“Then beg.” you propose, watching his features turn into pure shock before they change into devastation.

It's funny. Makes you giggle all over again.

“What?”

“You heard me. Beg,” you grin, “Or what? Is that against your male ego?”

“You're so cruel,” he begs. “If I knew–Hey now!” he exclaims when you let him slide out of you, your lips curving into a smirk.

You get off him entirely, laying on your tummy beside him. Elbow leaned against the soft mattress, you prop up your chin on your palm. Jungkook groans, frustration getting the best out of him as you grab the vibration. Turning it on, you catch his attention as you press the vibrating tip against his hard cock. He flinches, cussing you out immediately.

“Yah!”

You laugh, “What? Does it hurt?”

“I don't know if you noticed, but I'm fucking hard and sensitive.” he grits through his teeth and you pout. “Just do something.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn off the sex-toy, playing into the little facade you created as you toss it away. Lifting yourself, you hoist your leg over his hips and face him with your back. He barely has any chance to react as you sink down on him again. This time, you actually move. He breathes out in relief.

“I knew you were a good girl.” he mutters, causing you to stop. “No, no. Continue.” he reacts immediately which makes you smile.

You hold your balance by gripping his legs, just below his knees as you start riding him. It's hard to focus on other things than just his cock inside you.

“Mhm, fuck.” You hear behind you, a soft moan leaving your own mouth when he hits your good spot.

You pick up your pace, your ass smacking against Jungkook's skin but when you start to feel the familiar heat gathering in your lower religion, you're forced to stop. You don't want to cum too soon. Jungkook whines, cursing under his breath.

“You're so whiny.” you comment, sending him a look of amusement across your shoulder.

He's frowning, mouth pouting without realizing as he tugs onto the handcuffs again. Realization hits him and that makes you laugh again. He forgot he's handcuffed and wanted to touch you.

“Just wait until you're done.” he threatens.

Ignoring the way your stomach tightens in excitement, you don't give him that satisfaction of recognizing his effect that he has on you. Instead, you turn around to face him, sitting back on his thighs as you lean toward him.

“One last time, remember?"

“You also said break and look at us now,” he bites back smartly. “When I asked you if you're gonna let me in, this wasn't what I had in mind. But I'm not complaining.”

You start tracing random patterns on his abs, they flex under your touch and you know he's holding himself back. “That would be awful if you were complaining.” you hum.

“Y/N,” he whines. “Just do something.”

“I told you. Beg… or ask nicely.” you hum, moving your finger up to his chest.

“Please,” he says dryly.

You lift your brow at him, giving him an unimpressed glare. “I said nicely.” you remind him.

He groans, almost ready to throw a tantrum. Oh, this is so much fun!

“Please, wanna fuck that pussy.”

You smile, leaning forward to get close to his face. His breath hitches as your lips hover over his. The faintest touch of them earns the corner of his lips before you pull away. You wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him a little before you put him inside you again. Jungkook hums and nods, obviously too joyful that you've finally listened. You don't waste any time, lifting your hips up and down as you ride him.

“This is what you wanted?”

“Fuck yes.” Jungkook breathes out, muscles tensing. “Fuck, that's it. Yeah, just like that.”

He says, forcing his eyes to stay open as he watches your breasts bouncing.

“Fuck, baby.”

Despite being fully engrossed in chasing your orgasm, you still smile in the midst of it.

You're close to cumming, stopping your movements shortly after which leaves Jungkook whining. Loud and clear.

“You were close, weren't you?” he teases after frustration slowly fades away.

“Shut up,” you bite.

“Come on. Fuck me. Please .” he begs softly.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you comply and move your hips again. This time, you don't stop. You chase your orgasm while Jungkook coaxes you through it.

“That's right, use me.”

“You like this?” you breathe out, throwing your head back as you feel yourself getting closer and closer.

“I love it,” he corrects you. “I'm gonna miss this cunt so much.”

“Don't say that,” you croak out. “You're making me regret things.”

“No regrets,” he groans. “Fuck, yeah.” He moves his hips up, meeting your thrusts in the middle as you whimper.

A few more thrusts and one big from Jungkook, you come undone above him. The knot snaps inside you and your entire body stills as your walls start clenching and unclenching. Your juices drip down Jungkook's length, undoubtedly staining your sheets as well but that's the least of your worries.

Jungkook watches you come back to reality, eyes clouded with lust.

“You think you can go for round two?” he asks, watching you breathe out an audible chuckle.

You can.

Giving him a nod, you settle onto rubbing his chest softly while trying to catch your breath.

“Uncuff me,” he says, stealing all your attention once again – this time not caused by the usual charms of the man under you. “Just wanna touch you.” he adds, softly and with a pout.

“What if I don't want you to touch me?” you hum, starting to roll your hips again which makes him hiss.

He grunts, closing his eyes. “Don't lie to yourself.”

Regardless of both of you aware of the lie, you keep smiling knowing he's damn right.

“I'm not gonna do anything, I swear.” he promises, whining as your movements deepen.

Feeling like you could chase your second orgasm of the night, you reach behind you and put your hands on his thighs. Jungkook stares, eyes wide despite the evident desire and need.

“Holy fuck, you're gonna be the end of me.”

You giggle. You freaking giggle and Jungkook swears he's done for.

“You little minx,” he grunts. “You wanna make me cum without me touching you? That's fucking cruel.”

“I like to be cruel sometimes.” you tease.

As much as you wish his hands would be on you, touching you everywhere and the way only he can, this is so much fun.

While Jungkook's eyes are the only touch you can feel, the dark irises leave hot traces all over your skin, you enjoy his attention on you. It's no secret he alone brings you more confidence than he can ever imagine. Not to grow sentimental, especially right now and at this dirty moment, but for that you'll be forever grateful to him. You're scared for what's about to come in the future. You're too scared to think about it and you automatically shut down any hints of those thoughts coming up.

You enjoy this while you can.

After this, you want to focus on your friendship with him. It's for the best.

You could easily regret doing this with him right now. Especially after the idea of taking a break. In reality, you don't. There are no regrets as of now and you hope they won't come. You won't allow it.

“Play with your tits, baby. Show me,” Jungkook pants.

Having you slowly start to bounce on his cock again brings a rush of heat to every inch of his body. You obey, grasping your breasts into your palms while you squeeze to soft flesh. Jungkook whines and groans, clearly still frustrated he can't touch them or anything at this point.

“Pinch your nipples.” he orders, not full of dominance like you're perhaps used to, but full of desperation.

You moan as you listen to him, bringing more pleasure to your body as you imagine it's Jungkook's hands instead. Eyes closed yet again, you can't bring yourself to keep them open. Your muscles strain, lungs begging for more air as you feel your heartbeat drumming in your eardrums.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Think I'm gonna cum.” you force yourself to admit, totally clueless to Jungkook obviously seeing and feeling it.

“Rub your clit for me. Fuck.”

Hand reaching between your legs, it's a little tricky to fully obey as you're still bouncing on his cock, close to cumming. You still rub your clit, whimpering and stuttering things you can't remember. Whatever leaves your mouth blends with the sounds of skin slapping. One hand on Jungkook's abdomen, you make sure you stabilize yourself while the other works on your clit.

“Keep going, keep going,” Jungkook whimpers. “Please, please, please.”

You do. Your thighs burn but nothing won't stop you. Orgasm comes crashing down on you for the second time. Your walls clench around Jungkook's cock, sucking him dry as Jungkook warns you of his own approaching orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming.” he manages to get out.

Just in time, you barely make it and lift yourself as Jungkook's thick cum shoots up. The warm liquid lands on your pussy, some of it getting onto your lower belly trickling down your thighs.

Jungkook curses under his breath, head dropping down onto pillows as his chest heaves. Yours too. Dropping down next to him, there's no care in the world as you both try to come back to your senses.

After a minute of harsh breathing fading, Jungkook comments. “Almost didn't make it.”

Looking at him, you both grin at each other. “I made it.”

He scoffs playfully, amused by your confidence. He's restrained, therefore it would be completely your fault if he came inside you.

“Gonna uncuff me now?”

“Oh shit.” you curse, sitting up as you grab the key off your nightstand, leaning forward to uncuff Jungkook's wrists.

As soon as you do, Jungkook's arms shoot down as the pair of pink fluffy handcuffs land on your floor. You watch him rub his wrists, frowning before looking at you as you shoot him a sheepish grin.

“You enjoyed that?”

“Probably more than I thought I would.” you giggle.

Jungkook's lips twitch. “At least one of us did.”

“You came, didn't you?” you raise your brow at him. “I'm receiving no complaints then.”

He laughs, sitting up as he cracks his neck. Looking down at his crotch and around the bed, he cringes a little. “Made a mess.”

“It's fine, I'm gonna clean that up. Go take a shower.” you point toward the door.

“You sure?” he asks, cocking his brow at his cum sticking to your skin.

“Yeah,” you laugh, reaching for the wipes that are beside your bed. You clean yourself, ushering Jungkook to use your bathroom while you take care of this mess.

Knowing there's no point in arguing, he still with an unsure look starts to get out of your bed. What he doesn't expect though is a slap delivered on his buttcheek. He turns around, shocked with mouth agape as he shoots you a look.

“What does it feel like?” you tease, biting onto your lower lip as he shakes his head, fighting back a grin. Too bad, you catch a good glimpse of it.

“You're lucky this is over.” he tells you, ruffling his raven hair.

You're not sure if lucky is the right word to describe it, though it works for what he has in mind. And god, you're so close to calling this break off. Desperate and foolish.

But since he talks about luck, it seems like it's on your side this time considering he turns around and leaves the room before you can make another rash decision.

You decide to finish the movie after you're both cleaned, and so is your bedroom with fresh sheets. Everything goes back to normal, both of you acting as if you haven't had sex a few minutes ago. Ignoring the way every inch your skin feels like it's been electrified.

Jungkook's body takes most of the space in your bed eventually, the entire bedroom swallowed in darkness as chilly air fans your thin curtains. No scent of sex anymore just like there is no trace of your previous doings. The only proof lives in both of you now.

“Back to best friends?” Jungkook asks behind you, his arm outstretched just above your head.

“Back to best friends.” you confirm, ignoring the sentiment behind your tone.

“Don't tell anyone that I–”

“That I had you handcuffed and you whined?”

“Yah!”

Cackling, you look across your shoulder as if you could see him. “Are you ashamed of it?” you tease.

“Taehyung wouldn't let me live if he knew.”

You both laugh quietly.

“Can you rub my back now?” you say after a while.

Jungkook snickers, sighing as he gets on his side facing your back. His hand is on your back, scratching and rubbing gently as you hum in pleasure.

“Shouldn't you be the one who's rubbing my back? Y'know because of what you've put me through tonight.” he grumbles, causing you to smile into your pillow.

“Didn't you enjoy it?”

“I couldn't touch you.” he says as if that answers everything.

You still keep smiling, not being able to fight it back. “But other than that?”

He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to look behind you again. He hears the sheets rustling. “I came, didn't I?”

Somehow, that answers your question and you hum, lullying yourself to sleep – with the help of Jungkook's hands and touch of course. However, with a serious realization of what the fuck are you going to do now.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #personasintro

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bella-rose29 · 9 months ago

Text

Breathe

Elrond x gn!reader (Rings of Power)

not me coming out of my cave to post an Elrond fic then leave again 👀

also not me not writing anything for over a month (probably, I haven't counted) and then coming out with a near 5k fic oops

the original title for this was 'is he dead or not??? who knows' but I think this one is good too

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: I think I killed someone writing this/made them need a lobotomy so consider that a warning to anyone who's gonna read (sorry), mentions of death, war, wounds, a child crying, the photo I'm gonna use is a warning in and of itself, I think that's it?

I feel I should add that this fic is actually happy (eventually) 😂 I reread the warnings and thought 'oh oops'

tagging @oblivious-idiot and @uku-lelevillain but if anyone else wants to be tagged in future Elrond works then let me know!

You could not breathe.

It would eat you alive, all this waiting, chewing on your insides until it worked its way outward and left you but a shell of the person you used to be, and you wouldn’t have any way of stopping it. Your lungs felt tight as you cradled the head of a sobbing child, his mother dead after birthing him and his father out in the fray with the rest of the soldiers of Middle-Earth. He was young, had barely seen his homeland, let alone the world, and he had never seen war before. You were not so lucky as he - war had been your upbringing. You could fight as well as any other of the elven soldiers, but somebody was needed to look after those who could not, and so you had volunteered along with a small band of others: retired fighters and those looking to start out and join the ranks but were not quite good enough yet. You had trained them over the last few days that you had all spent in the safe hold, taking them through the basics of how to grip a sword and the best way to gut an Orc should they break through and make it to the doors of the underground cavern serving as your shelter.

The child in your lap had stopped sobbing, his cries turned to sniffles, and you carefully lifted his body to nestle into your side. He was too young for war, you thought again, taking in the small points of his ears and the lack of angles on his face. You attempted a smile, hoping it would comfort him a little as you pushed a strand of his hair behind an ear, and whispered to him. “All will be well. They will return to us victorious, and we shall have no need of too many more tears.”

“But how do you know?” Children were inquisitive, which most of the time you adored, but when you are attempting to raise the spirits of a boy who does not know if he will ever see his father again, the questions become rather irritating.

“Because I have seen many things, and because our armies are strong. They will defeat the darkness and bring light to our lands once more.” It was the best you could do when you did not truly know the answer. You had learned the art of rhetoric years ago, when Elrond Peredhel had first come to Lindon and had quickly discovered that for the elves to see past his half-elven status he would need to become invaluable, or risk being an outcast in the race he had chosen to be counted among. You had been the first to greet him, intrigued by this visitor from the Havens of Sirion when you had been born in Lindon and raised there, and he had been grateful for your tour and kindness. He had spent many an hour sat with you, commenting on his meetings and the politics of Lindon, and how he carefully navigated clashing personalities and difficult conversations, and so you had learned.

You used it now, that knowledge that Elrond had provided in all those hours, to comfort this child. He had since taken to playing with a stick on the floor next to him, leaning further away from your side to entertain himself as he drew patterns in the dirt, and it gave your lungs the much needed space to breathe a little more.

It had been hours and hours since the army had left, heading out onto the battlefield to meet Sauron’s forces, and you were getting impatient. Elrond had gone with them, determined to provide what help he could no matter your protests to him entering the fray. You had trained him up, knowing that he could hold his own but wanting to be sure that he would be alright, and when you had suggested that you go with him while tightening the straps of his armour he had placed his hands over yours (his hands were too soft - far too soft for someone about to go into battle), gently coaxing them from where they had fretted with the leather and returning them to your side with a sad smile. “You must stay here, melethel, and protect those who cannot fight.” The term of endearment never failed to heat your cheeks, or send a warmth up your neck and through your chest. “For my peace of mind, please stay here.” He had let go of your hands at that point, moving them up to rest on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and before you could think you were pushing it back into place, wondering if you had imagined him leaning into your touch that lingered a moment too long for two elves who were only friends and nothing more, his eyes fluttering closed for the barest fraction of a second before he was looking at you again, or if it had truly happened. What you were certain was real was the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, lips brushing the skin with such care and tenderness while his hands on your arms squeezed like you would disappear that it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed. Elrond would not see you cry, not now, not when there was a chance it could be the last-

No. You would not think that way. He would come back alive, and if he was hurt then you would stay by his side until he was healed, and then you would continue your lives as you had before - content and in friendship.

It wasn’t how you wanted things to be with Elrond, which was why you could not breathe. What if he was one of the fallen, and you never saw him smile again, or gaze in wonder at the golden leaves of Lindon or cast a wry glance your way in a council session when somebody said something he thought was silly and knew you would be thinking it too, your eyes already seeking him out? What if you never heard him sing again, or write poems about trivial matters that seemed so important to him? What if you never got to challenge him to a duel again, laughing when your swords clashed and rang out in the clearing you always fled to, and calling him a cheat for tickling you after you pinned him to the floor?

And what if you never told him how you truly felt? That from the moment he had seen you try not to show your tears after climbing too high in a tree and falling, grazing your knee and cutting your calf, and had rushed to your aid because that was what Elrond did, you had loved him. He had been so calm, so gentle that night, the lights of others long gone out as they dwelt in near darkness while your lanterns stayed lit as you gritted your teeth and washed the cut of dirt and bark. You had barely heard him come in, his knock as quiet as your tears, but when his hands wrapped around your own and took the cloth from you, dipping it again in the bowl of water to your side, you barely startled. He had not been in Lindon long and yet already you knew him and his movements as though they were your own, and you trusted him enough to see you so vulnerable, and from the way he had looked at you that night he knew it. Your love for him was strong and true and the greatest thing you had ever felt, and for years you had passed it off as a friendship so powerful that the bond between you was unbreakable. You had friendships like that with others, so it would not have been out of the ordinary to have one more person whom you would love unconditionally until your light died, but when he had been kneeling by your side and cleaning the gash on your calf with a tenderness you had only read about, you had known it was different.

The child beside you now dropped his stick, the movement bringing you out of your thoughts as he scrambled instead to his feet and started to push through the gathered people to make for the doorway.

The doorway which was now opening, a messenger stepping through. You stood up, air catching in your throat and making you nearly choke on spit as you struggled to breathe again. Your hand flew to your opposite wrist, under the fabric of your sleeve and touching the chain that rested around the base of your hand - a gift from Elrond in the early hours of the morning before he had left for battle and after he had kissed you on the forehead. “To remember me by,” he had said, a sadness settling over his features that you hated. He unclasped it, gesturing for you to hold out your wrist, and when you complied he had linked the chains so carefully, fingers brushing the underside of your forearm so lightly it sent chills darting over your skin like minnows in a stream. His hold had lingered, and your breath had been held while time seemed to stretch on more than usual for your kind.

Elrond had that effect on you, it would appear. Making you breathless was a skill of his you weren’t sure he knew he possessed, and at this current moment you wished it was a skill he had never mastered. Your throat felt tight while the messenger caught his breath, tired from sprinting from the battlefield. The fight was over for now, the question was simply who had won.

“Sauron’s forces have been pushed back, and the majority slaughtered. We have won this battle!” the elf cried, and the first wave of relief washed over you and the crowd. The second would come when you knew who was alive out of those that had been sent away that morning, and who would not return this night.

The thundering of footsteps could just be heard over the cheers of the people gathered in the safe hold, and the first of the elven soldiers appeared in the chamber, tiredness being replaced by joy at seeing their loved ones again and embracing them with a fierceness that even Sauron could not comprehend. There were too many similar soldiers, their armour all the same and their faces all dirtied, and it was a long few minutes before you caught sight of the elf you were searching for. You were sure your face was blank and cold, and your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to see past the hordes in front of you, but the moment a head of unruly curled hair glinted under the torchlight, clearly moving from soldier to soldier and asking if they were alright, you knew it was Elrond. He seemed to sense your gaze on him, turning his head to look over his shoulder and seek you out, finding you within seconds. He is alive. Elrond is alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over in your head as your feet numbly moved you forward while he did the same, pushing through people to reach you, and before you could truly register it you were in his arms, the coldness of your previous gaze melting and turning into warmth as you looked at him, tracing the small cuts on his face and wrapping your other arm around his waist. He was dirty, and bloodied, and shaking from the cold or from the fight or from something else entirely that you could not name, but he was alive. You squeezed his waist, pulling him closer to you, but didn’t miss the slight wince on his face as you did so. “Elrond, are you hurt?��

“I am fine, melethel. Just a scratch.”

“Do not lie to me, Elrond. Come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of your armour; it must be heavy on your shoulders.” He did not reply, only giving a tired smile in its place, and let you take him by the hand to the room you had commandeered for you both when you had arrived. There were two raised cots, not that Elrond had slept much, as he had been needed in meetings to discuss battle strategies and had, in his usual fashion, not stopped working until he was content that his plan would work. You closed the door behind you and pointed to one of the cots, not looking at him as you told him to sit. He did so in a daze, fingers picking at the leather straps that you had done up for him that morning. It was long past nightfall now, and Elrond likely had not rested since he woke up. You gathered your medicines and poured a dish of water, moving to sit on the stool that Elrond had pulled up for you and putting your supplies on the side table to help him with his armour. You worked in silence, removing piece after piece of metal until it sat on the floor in a neat pile and you had better access to his wound. Cautiously you pressed your fingers to the edge of the cut, trying to gauge how bad it was and immediately regretting it when he hissed in pain and tried to move away. You snatched your hand back, eyes snapping to his face to see it scrunched up in pain. “Elrond,” you spoke, voice quiet in the near-empty room as you placed your hand on his fist. “Elrond. It is alright. Here, help me get this off of you so I can clean it.” He softened, features settling back into a face you knew better than the wrinkled nose and squeezed-shut eyes, and smiled a little as you started tugging at his undershirts.

“You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could have said it earlier.” Had you been standing you were sure your knees would have given way and caused you to hold on to something for support. He must be delirious from the wound, or the amount of time spent on his feet fighting. Elrond never said things like that: not to you, not to anyone. You forced a glare onto your face in lieu of a response, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much he had affected you with one simple sentence, and started to gently pull the fabric up.

“Stop jesting, Elrond. I need to clean your wound. Unless you would prefer I left you here to get an infection and suffer?”

“You rather enjoy leaving me to suffer, melethel. You do it whenever we fight.”

“I always help you up off the floor after I wipe it with your backside,” you indignantly replied. You were glad he was talking - the silence had been strange. Normally you would not mind sitting in silence with Elrond, but that was when you were safe in Lindon, books in your hands and paper rustling as the pages turned, not when he had just fought a bloody battle and could have died.

“I recall that last time we fought it was I who helped you off of the floor,” he mused, and you swatted at his arm.

“Shush. I let you win that one. Now stop talking and help me; your limbs are gangly.” He let out a noise of disbelief at that but lifted his arms anyway, wincing when the shirt went over his head and pulled at the skin of his side. An Orc had found a gap in his armour, pushing its blade through and marking the side of his body with blood. You held your breath at the size of it, and when Elrond asked you how bad it was you answered with your eyes still on his side. “It is… it is nothing I cannot fix.” He seemed content enough with your response, nodding and leaning back on his hands to allow you more room to work. He grunted in pain when you raised the cloth to his skin and started cleaning away the blood and sweat that had stuck there, but otherwise was silent while you worked.

Time is a strange thing for elves: your lives are so much longer than those other races of Middle-Earth and so often you do not perceive it in the same way - twenty years for some may be the blink of an eye to an elf. You could not have been cleaning and stitching his wound (he had cried out more when the needle had pierced his flesh) for more than an hour or so, and yet it had felt like an eternity. When you were finally done, his wound covered in an elvish salve to stop infection and the spread of whatever evil was in Orcish weaponry and stitched up with a fine thread that would dissolve harmlessly into his skin over time, you brought out another cloth and poured fresh water to clean his face. He was caked in dirt and blood and grime, sticking to his fair skin from all of the sweat he had created in exertion, and if you did not know Elrond like the back of your own hand then you would not have recognised him at all.

“Let me,” he said, pushing up off of the cot and moving to where you stood by the basin. His hands covered yours, gently attempting to pull the cloth from your grasp and do the rest himself, but your grip was strong.

“No. I have been sat around doing nothing all day and I might just explode if I do not finish looking after you.” He smiled, the barest of things as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little, and his eyes softened. How he could be soft after everything he had seen today amazed you. It had taken you years to stop guarding yourself after you first fought in a battle, not letting anybody see any vulnerability in case they took advantage and thought you weak. It was part of the reason you stayed behind: you had not wanted to find out what would happen if you fought again, not when Elrond had come into your life and, piece by piece, dismantled your high walls.

“Alright, melethel. Alright.” He had always insisted on calling you that, saying that it didn’t matter that the pair of you were not courting, and who were you to refuse him when he spoke so sweetly? He settled back against the counter, letting his feet drift apart a little so you had room to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes, trusting you to take care of him, and for the first time since he had returned he looked at peace. He seemed unsure where to place his hands, hovering for a moment between your waist and the wood of the cabinet top he perched on before deciding on the latter. You worked away the dirt, revealing more clean skin with every swipe of your cloth, until eventually you were looking at the face of your friend as you remembered it. His hair still needed a wash, as did the rest of him, but Elrond was here, in front of you and more like himself than he had been since he had left in the morning.

“I think you had more soil on your face than the grounds of Middle-Earth,” you joked, rinsing out the cloth again before bringing it up to his face to wipe the remainder of the grime away. He opened his eyes, a childish grin appearing on his face at your words.

“Then you have done a fantastic job in removing it all.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes at you in playful suspicion. “At least I assume you have removed it all, and haven’t just smeared it all around my face?” He poked a dirty finger into your cheek, making you laugh and jerk backward to stop him spreading muck everywhere. Elrond stopped moving abruptly, catching your hand and studying a finger. “You’re bleeding.” He blinked at the dried blood on your pointer finger. “Or is that mine?”

“Oh. I had not even realised. I must have stabbed myself with the needle earlier. Really, it is nothing, Elrond.” He didn’t let go however, still looking concerned that you had hurt yourself while tending to him.

“But if you are hurt-”

“Which one of us was brutally stabbed by an Orc blade? And nearly died?”

“I did not nearly die, melethel, you are being dramatic.”

“As are you, Elrond. I barely even noticed the prick of the needle.” He had brought your hand close to his face, and somehow your body had gone with it. The hand that held the cloth was bracing your weight next to Elrond’s hand, your fingers just touching, and your face was so close to his that you could feel the soft brush of air that he let out every time he breathed. It was so typical of Elrond to be more concerned for others when he himself was the one that needed to be worried over, and it only made you love him more.

“If you say so,” he hummed, shifting his hold on your hand so that he could bring his lips to the tip of your finger where you had stuck yourself with the needle, pressing the smallest kiss to it. Your breath caught again, and he noticed the hitch. “Melethel? What is it, did I hurt you?” His eyes widened and he rushed to rectify the mistake he thought he had made. “I am so so sorry, I did not mean-”

“You did not hurt me, Elrond, for goodness’ sake!” You cut him off, exasperated and feeling very warm.

“Then why-” he broke off, eyes searching your face and studying the most likely very visible flush to your features. “Oh,” he said, softer than a leaf of one of the trees of Lindon falling to the earth. You swore his pupils dilated a little, and he tilted his head back ever so slightly as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.” He let go of your hand, fingers slowly moving to your jaw to turn your face back towards his after you had looked to the side in an attempt to hide from the intensity of his gaze.

“Elrond, what- what?” Your hand he had been holding was now on his shoulder, keeping you upright along with the arm he had somehow snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“Are you- do you…” he fumbled over his words, something he very rarely did, and through the haze of wondering how you had ended up in this situation, his fingers cupping your jaw while his other hand rested on your lower back and he stared into your eyes, flicking between them both to see if he could read you, you felt a swell of pride that you of all people had made Herald Elrond of Lindon speechless.

“Do I what?” you asked, as gently as you could. The hand you had rested on his shoulder was now toying with a strand of hair that curled under his ear against his neck, your other braced on his chest (which you were just now remembering was unclothed), and a small smile was on your face. You knew that he knew the truth now - how could he not? But he wanted to hear it, as did you, because the fear that he might be wrong was lingering and if he was wrong, he might hurt you, which was the last thing Elrond ever wanted to do.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, eyes similar to that of a wolf cub you had once seen, wide and innocent, but entirely Elrond in the blown out pupils and spark of knowing that he carried. His nose was brushing yours, breath fanning over your face, and now it was your turn to tilt your head back to meet him. “Do you feel that whenever we are apart… your heart aches for the space where I should be stood? That whenever we are together I am complete because you are there and you are so bright and wonderful that you take my breath away more often than I would care to admit - do you feel that too?”

“How could I not, Elrond? How could I not feel that?” You felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders, his body sagging forwards into yours just a little, the action causing his face to come even closer to yours, angled slightly upwards from where he was an inch lower than you sat on the cabinet.

You couldn’t breathe again, but this time it was because Elrond had pressed his lips to yours so cautiously that you thought you might melt into him. His fingers on your jaw were warm, not urging you one way or the other but just anchoring you, as he always had done from the moment you had met, letting you decide what happened next. You broke off first, resting your forehead against his and catching your breath, and he swallowed thickly, moving to place tiny kisses against your jawline and cheek, pausing only to murmur your name into your skin. Your hand buried itself in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls and knocking out the dust and dirt that had stuck there. It had long since dried of sweat, but the strands were greasy and needed washing, and that thought combined with the memory that he had a wound in his side were enough to make you pull back even further. “You should have a bath,” you said when he looked up at you with adoring but concerned eyes. He paused for a moment, frozen in place while he contemplated what you had said, and then he chuckled, the sound low in his throat.

“Are you saying I smell, melethel?”

“Yes. Come, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

“And if I would rather stay here?” His fingers had started lightly stroking your jaw, and with the way he was looking at you it was becoming harder and harder to leave his embrace. You managed to wrinkle your nose and step back, a strength you hadn’t known you possessed taking over and making you move.

“I’m not kissing you again until you have bathed, Elrond.” He sighed dramatically, retracting his arms and standing up, wincing slightly and favouring his non-injured side while you started transporting water from over the fire.

“Truly? You really would leave me here?”

“If it gets you over here faster, then I shall get in with you.” You had never seen the elf move so quickly before, pulling off his boots and drawing out towels for when the bath was finished with. He hesitated with his trousers, then decided to keep them on, glancing at you to see what you were doing. You were already watching him, making a decision of your own before starting to pull at the strings holding your robes together.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m keeping my underclothes on, but I shall likely sink right to the bottom if I keep these thick robes on.” He looked relieved, and you stifled a laugh as you headed for the dresser where your clothes were kept, pulling out a pair of fresh trousers. “Here, get changed first if you’re keeping trousers on; you’ll dirty the water immediately.”

He complied, heading behind the partition in the corner of the room and re-emerging a few moments later to find you already in the bath, eyes closed in contentment at the feel of the warm water on your skin. Elrond lifted your head, pushing you forward gently so that he could clamber in behind you and settle back against the tub. You heard him grunt when his wound his the water, and turned to see his face scrunched in pain. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright. Just don’t lean on my side.” He helped you turn in the tub so that you were sideways against him, his wound kept out of the danger of being pressed down upon.

You stayed in the bath until it got cold and your fingers wrinkled, having washed the dirt off of each other with one of the towels Elrond had brought over, and then when you got out you dried each other off and redressed in fresh clothes, hanging up the wet fabric and making for the bed, curling up next to each other, your head on his chest. Sleep came easily to you, Elrond’s body creating a warmth under you that made up for the dying fire in the cold room, and at some point your breathing matched his.

For now, you could be content in peace. Another battle would come, the war not yet won, and Sauron’s armies would be at your doors again soon. But not yet. They would need time to gather strength again, to marshal and be ready, and so you had time too before Elrond had to leave again, and time to breathe before you would be sat waiting, and waiting, and take in air before it was stolen from you when he kissed you goodbye.

#elrond peredhel #elrond x reader #elrond rings of power #rop elrond

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