#Pre game release Fic

[sincerelymanic]

Looking for a new Fanfiction to read while the game isn't out? This is gonna come out at at least 40K words.

Summary:

I've never had what one would call an easy life. The Temple who raised me up as their Oracle, turned against me when the truth of my curse came to light. After fleeing from the Temple, I made my way to Eridia. I naively thought the Senobium would be my new salvation. Turns out they don't take too kindly to people coming up to the gates asking for help. Several broken ribs later, I'd learned another hard lesson about life.

I say all that to say, I've been through it more than a few times. But it feels like this time, things are going in the right direction. I've made unexpected friends in unexpected places. I still have my curse but I'm living with it. I'm finally starting to make a name for myself apart from 'cursed one' or 'abomination'. Life's not perfect, but it's mine.

Little did I know that my foundations are about to crumble all around me. Because when things seem too good to be true, they often are.

[awesomeart-83]

Decapolice: You were kidding about that…… right?

Plot: Carl shows concern for Harvard and his style of justice after the Jewel Robbery Case.

Note: If you want context, I suggest you find the English translation of the TGS 2023 demo that was made @call-me-rucy

“Hey, Harvey.”

“Yeah, Carl?”

It was after sunrise. It was usually said that the Broadstone looked like a modern art painting when the sun goes down. The 3 SIU team members have left already. Zhang talking a bus,That left only Harvard and Carl at the enterace of the police station, along with some cops and other workers.

“It’s about today’s DECASIM case.”

“Yeah?”, Harvard said lazily. “Was it about the Jewel Beast?” He then made a meow sound. Carl hold his urge to giggle. Yeah, the Crime Beast was dangerous, but it was

“No, it wasn’t that concern me. more specifically about the hostage…..”

Harvard mentally cringe in disgust. While he was able to get Carl away from the culprit’s grasp by shooting the remote that controls the robots, he felt himself getting more displeased on their first hostage. The old man’s smug words taunting. How he hold down Carl with no regard. The feeling of unable to reach somebody without using any force. It didn’t felt…. Fair. While he liked Carl, he had to admit

“Yeah, I took him down pretty easily. Sure the beast was surprised.

“Well, I was pretty worried there but……”

“WHAT. I haven’t got all night. Won’t your dad be upset that his A+ son is hanging in Broadstone in the night?”

Carl stopped for a hard second. Just because his dad was the police chief of Broadstone doesn’t mean that he should be treated like a

“No, it isn’t that. It was about……. What you said.”

“Yes? Did something upset you?”

“Yes, specifically the sentence before you hit the controller.”

Harvard became silent and then thought about what he said before he took the shoot.

“Any decent agent is prepared to die when taken hostage.”

He played those words in his brain. Over and over again. Every single word that came of out his mouth. He remember Manimani’s and Carl’s shock, and even Mikey’s and Zhang’s despite not hearing or seeing them. Before he could answer, Carl bet it to him.

“Yeah, that what I wanted to talked. You know I been worried about you since the last year of college. I mean if it was something like, ‘You are regret your life choices, culprit.’ Or “Maybe you could handle this.”. But, no, I you choose that sentence.” “So, what is you deal, it was just a-” “NO, IT WASN’T! You said it was a serious expression on your face!! You looked at me like I was a background character

Harvard was quiet for what seems like a decade as the night went up and Carl wonder if he had thinking way too hard.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Harvard begin to laugh. Not a giggle. But, a criminal laugh. His mouth went wide open as his back bent backward before covering his hand concealing his whole face.

He kept on laughing and laughing. Carl really worried that it was the right choice to even bring up the sentence in the first place.

Then he stopped to a halt and got a serious look that screamed “WTF?”

“You were seriously thinking about? Because, it seemed to me you were taking that line way out of context.”

“So, why did you say it?”

“It was a intimidation tatic, trying to shocked

“Oh. So you really-”

“Are my best friend.

“Oh, sorry.” Carl said with a fog of ashamed.

“Anyway, the conservation already took

As Harvard left the police station, Carl felt his shock disappeared and felt comfort and relaxation inside. Harvard cared for him. He didn’t see as somebody who was disposable like a paper plate. As he begin walking back to his house, he felt his connection with Harvard grow. Come on, it wasn’t like that Harvey had something he wasn’t telling him about?

Right?

Author Note: While I did some writing in the past, the first time I actually invested myself in a fanfic. Maybe because of how little content this game has got, despite being one of Level 5’s game coming worldwide after 3 years AND being the former Professor Layton successor before being retooled its own thing.

I had played both Yo Kai Watch and Fantasy Life on 3Ds when I was a kid. While I didn’t play the sequels or the Fantasy Life mobile game I loved playing these games even though they had their flaws. So, when Fantasy Life i and Deca Police released, I going to do a play through of them.

Also, I believed that Carl doesn’t know about Harvard’s reason for being a detective until later on the story. In the concept image trailer, when Harvard is talking about him wanting to confront the Clown for killing his mom, Carl (I think that was) is shown to be surprised. It implies that Harvey doesn’t want to tell people about his past, including the people who is closest to. Makes me wonder, how old was Harvard when his mom died. 6 or 8 years old?

You can comment, critique, reblog, like, or even make fanart for this fanfic. I really appreciate it!💜

[cuteandhughesy]

Please Please Please | Luke Hughes

summary: navigating a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is turning out to be a little harder than you expected. the 3 times you and luke were almost caught + the 1 time you are caught.

[word count] 4.3k

warnings: MATURE! pre-established relationship | brothers teammate trope | lazar! reader | sneaking around | kissing | suggestive dialogue and scenes | the tiniest sprinkle of smut but no actual sex | read at your own discretion

a/n: formed based on this request! i’m working on a good chunk of fics and similar stuff so keep your eyes open 💕 for now…enjoy! it’s been so long since i’ve written for luke..I missed him.

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one

"we really shouldn't be doing this..." luke's hushed words trail off, whispered against your slick lips as you two move through the room, stumbling over loose shoes and discarded clothes. his hands run up your torso hurriedly—yet smoothly—squeezing your skin in his palms like he can't get enough of you, despite his words. it's a sweet gesture, one that only turns you on further.

you shush him gently, dismissing his hesitance. you pull away from him slightly, but still close enough that you could lean back in at any moment and continue your hurried kiss. "please." you pout slightly, looking up through your lashes. you're so wound up from just kissing luke, you're not sure if you'll be able to stop now—despite the circumstances.

so regardless of your own selflessness—you can understand luke's apprehension. after all, if you were in his shoes you'd probably be shitting bricks right about now. your hands fall away from luke's broad shoulders, letting them trail down his chest until you reach his hips. slowly, you slip your fingers into the waistband of luke's sweats, and begin pulling him forward. "we just have to be really quiet."

luke stumbles slightly, caught off guard by your sudden movements. regardless, he follows easily, allowing you to bring him towards the edge of the bed. in that moment you're thankful the upstairs bedroom floors are carpeted, and the wobbly footsteps are muffled by the rug under your and luke’s socked feet.

the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed, and that has you falling back into the mass of blankets, releasing your hold on the elastic waistband around luke's ridiculously attractive hips—which, before you even met luke, you didn't even think hips could be so hot, but you'd been very quickly proven wrong.

you blink up at luke lazily, making your gaze come across as sensual as possible. you bring your knees up, and slowly your legs part, revealing the thin material off your blueberry printed panties—just visible under your shifted pyjama shorts.

but luke doesn't bite. he stays stagnant at the end of the bed, shirtless and visibly turned on—the straining situation under the soft material of his sweatpants giving him away.

his brows furrow. "what if curtis comes up here." luke questions, the worry evident in his expression. he gently rubs along his growing stubble, deep in thought as he continues to eye you. "what if we get caught?" luke's hesitant eyes flicker towards your closed bedroom door—well, your brother and his wife's guest bedroom door.

you were finishing up your final year of university in jersey, and instead of paying the ridiculous residence fees, curtis offered you the spare bedroom in his families home. and with that came a lot of social situations involving your brothers teammates. whether it was team dinners at different houses, or crowded bars after games, you were there—which is where you met luke.

luke seemed to always be around, and that combined with the constant banter he has with your brother, had you feeling enamoured with the youngest hughes brother very soon after curtis introduced you two. you found yourselves drawn to one another, and if one of you was near, the other wasn't far behind. you and luke quickly started dating—behind the back of your brother of course.

curtis has always been protective of you, especially when it comes to your relationships. it all comes from a good place, even if it made dating extremely difficult for you. curtis has always made sure to drill the negative stigma around young hockey players into your head—how he would never want you to date one...especially if said hockey player was one of his own teammates.

locker room talk was inevitable, and curtis didn't want to subject you to any of that ridiculous stuff or make you uncomfortable. and you didn't mind that protective rule of curtis' because you've never had an attraction to any of his teammates—until luke.

with that in mind, you and luke found yourself involved in a secret relationship. there's many measures you'd both take to ensure your romance stayed under wraps—you'd plan your calls around schedules, allowing yourselves to talk freely without your brother listening in. as well, you and luke would always plan secret dates, giving excuses of seeing friends in the city while you're actually tangled in whoever's bed is free. during gatherings, you'd be sneaking off into dark rooms, kissing like horny teenagers—it was all a thrill, one that you and luke found yourselves growing accustomed to, and honestly preferred.

you and luke were always careful—especially if curtis was around. if your brother was near, you and luke simply wouldn't sneak away, both too worried about getting caught and loosing the excitement and intimacy of your secret life.

but tonight was different.

the devils had been away on a week long road trip, expanding along the west coast and visiting teams like the sharks and kings. with the change in time zones, sneaking calls and facetimes with your boyfriend was practically impossible, and you and luke had only texted every few days to check in.

the interfering schedules and lack of communication left you and luke missing each other more than usual, and as soon as the devils plan landed back on jersey soil, you were practically vibrating with need.

when you proposed the idea of sneaking luke into the house once everyone had gone to bed, you didn't think he'd agree, but surprisingly enough he did. luke was apprehensive at first—which is understandable— because seeing one another while you're brother was home was always a big no-no. but the combination of the time missed between you and your pouty voice, luke had no choice but to agree.

slowly you unfold your leg, lifting your foot until you meet luke's shoulder. you nudge the buff surface with your sock covered toes, pulling luke's attention away from the bedroom door and back to you.

luke's gaze moves over you, shifting from your plump, spit slicked lips, down to your barley covered core and thin tank top that gives him the perfect outline of your pebbled nipples. he swallows roughly, a blush covering his high cheek bones.

"we won't get caught." you whisper seductively, your foot slowly trailing down his arm.

suddenly luke grabs onto your ankle, bringing your foot closer to his face. "you're such a bad influence." luke presses a soft kiss on your exposed ankle, right over the beaded anklet decorating you. his eyes don't leave your face, and as he slowly pulls away, a smirk begins to pull at his lips—tempting you.

you take your lip between your teeth. "you gunna punish me?"

he breathes a laugh, and manoeuvres your leg back into his spread, bent position. "you want me to punish you?"

you watch through hooded eyes as luke crawls onto the bed, moving until he's hovering over your flushed body. instantly your hands are in hair, running through his light curls, feeling the defined pattern between your fingers. "maybe I do."

his eyes flutter closed at the feeling, a small whimper passing through his parted lips. luke's large palm runs up your side, scooping under your tank until he's feeling your bare skin—running his thumb over your nipple.

you arch into him, a breathy moan leaving your lips, goosebumps covering your skin in the wake of luke's gentle touches.

luke kisses you slowly, a deep and bruising pressure that has you tingling all the way down to your toes. your lips part instinctively, moaning into luke's mouth as his continues to kiss yours, lips passing over yours in a gentle, slick embrace.

you're so easily distracted by luke's presence and touch, and you find yourself falling into a trance like state—loosing yourself in him. you find yourself here anytime you're with luke, always so easily falling into this intimate pattern. so it comes as suprise when your ears pick up on a dull thump in the distance, almost echoing through the quiet home.

"did you hear that?" you pull away from luke hurriedly, brows furrowed as you try and concentrate and listen further—straining your ears in attempt to catch any more sounds from beyond your bedroom.

luke whimpers at the loss of contact, eyes fluttering open to reveal his glossy, lustful eyes. "hear what?"

the dull thudding noise continues, increasing as if it was coming closer— sounding like somebody is walking, moving up the stairs towards your room. you gasp lightly, and with all the strength you can find, you push luke off the bed.

your sudden actions catch him off guard, and he goes easily, tumbling onto the rug with a loud thud. he groans out, and watches as you peek over the edge of the bed—your eyes blown wide with worry.

just before he can question your behaviour, you interrupt him, your tone hushed and full of fear. "it's curtis."

luke's face falls. "it's curtis?"

you nod quickly, looking in the direction of the door anxiously, listening as your brothers steps grow closer. you look back down at luke, "you gotta get under the bed."

"i'm not going to fit under the bed." luke whispers roughly, his own gaze darting between your nervous eyes and the bedroom door.

"well you gotta make it work, luke." you whisper wildly, shooing him. "scoot under—now."

the urgency in your voice has luke springing into action. he grabs onto the wooden frame of the bed, pulling himself under your bed. the rug rubs his bare back uncomfortably and the dust under the mattress is tickling his noise dangerously. the space is limited, and dirty, but you're not even thinking about that right now.

all you can focus on is the sound of curtis footsteps right outside the door, and just as the golden handle begins turning, luke finally gets situated under your bed, hiding from not only your sight, but hopefully your brothers.

you whip around just as the hinges squeak open, curtis appearing from behind the oak door. "hey." he greets you gently, still rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the palm of his hand. "are you talking to someone?"

you can feel the colour drain from your face, swallowing roughly as you keep your gaze ahead. "no?" your voice is definitely too high—too suspicious—answering quickly.

curtis's gaze narrows. "really? I thought I heard something." you watch in horror as your brother begins to look around the room, his movements suspiciously nonchalant as he scans the area—you can only pray that luke's feet aren't sticking out from underneath the mattress

you desperately need to get your brothers attention again and stop him from snooping around your space—you're pretty sure luke's phone is on the dresser. quickly, you spin your body to fully face curtis, clearing your throat. "well, I was watching a movie."

curtis' eyes flicker back to yours and away from your desk, his brows raised questionably. then, slowly, his gaze moves towards the tv on the wall. "the tv is broken."

you curse inwardly, swallowing thick salvia. "on my phone."

"okay..."he trails off. "just coming to check on you, making sure you were alright—couldve swore I heard something." your brother doesn't look all too convinced with what you're saying, and his pointed gaze has yet to waver.

you plaster on a smile. "oh i'm just peachy, curtis. thanks."

"you're acting weird."

"am I?" you question highly, crossing your arms.

he hums in answer, eyeing you suspiciously. "must just be tired. right?"

"right." you exhale shakily, and at this point you can only pray for this conversation to come to a close. subconsciously your eyes trail towards the bed, checking to make sure luke was still hidden.

curtis hums again, pulling your attention back to him. "better get to sleep then. goodnight."

you breathe, smiling again. "night."

he sends you one more curious look over his shoulder before he finally leaves, shutting the door with a gentle thud. the entire time you feel like you're going to die.

as soon as his feet sound descending back down the stairs, you're moving, practically skipping towards the bed.

your drop down on your stomach, looking under the gap between the floor and the mattress. "luke? are you breathing?"

he exhales loudly. "barley."

you send him a guilty smile. "guess we won't try this again, huh?"

two

luke pulls his hoodie over his torso, stretching his tired muscles as he adjust the material over his body.

the practice that finished only half hour ago was a taxing one. after a rough loss the previous night—one that he'd been cross checked in the ribs three separate times without a call—coach had been extra hard on the group today, which left luke even more sore and exhausted.

he shakes out his freshly washed hair, ruffling the curls between his fingers after they'd been flatted by his devils branded hood. the fuzzy material sticks to his damp chest, as luke was too tired to properly dry his skin—he just wanted to get home and call you, letting you coo at him and call him pretty (he loves it more than he’d ever admit).

"hey rusty." curtis distinctive teasing voice sounds behind luke, and he feels the center man’s hand on his shoulder, a rough squeeze in greeting. "you heading home now?"

curtis drops down to his reprieve stall—the one beside luke's—towel still around his waist as he pulls on his t-shirt, looking at the defence man expectantly.

luke swallows gently, giving curtis a quick nod. "yeah," he grabs his duffle bag, one full of extra hockey gear he always brings back and forth to the rink. "jacks already outside, said he wanted to shower when he got home."

"right on." curtis hums, pulling on his socks.

the sporadic buzzing noise of an incoming call draws the attention of both athletes, and their eyes are pulled to luke's beaten up phone, sitting screen up on the stall seat.

it's you. you're calling him.

curtis's brows raise, and he makes a teasing noise. "russssttttyyyy, who the hell is lovey?" before luke can even react, curtis picks up the phone, inspecting the profile picture set for your contact that’s flashing on the screen. thank god it’s an inconspicuous mirror pic, one lacking your face—luke can only pray curtis doesn’t inspect that picture too hard. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

luke swallows, eyes darting between the centerman and the phone clutched in his calloused hands. "I don't."

"there's a heart beside the name." he deadpans. "should I answer it and ask her about it instead?"

"no!" luke lunges towards his phone, but curtis is quicker, standing from is stall and side stepping the youngest hughes.

"easy dude. what's the big deal." with a breathy laugh, curtis slides his thumb across the answer button, picking up your incoming call.

"dude." luke grabs the phone from his hands just before curtis can place it to his ear. "a little privacy." the awkward chuckle that leaves him is almost embarrassing, and the way his hands have started shaking and the blush covering luke from head to toe is also humiliating.

curtis laughs, clearly finding amusement in luke's clear embarrassment. "i'm literally standing in front of you with my dick out, but sure rusty, i'll leave your secret girlfriend alone."

luke can just hear your muffled voice through the phone, muttering his name questionably—no doubt wondering what the fuck is going on. "sorry she's just...shy. you'll meet her one day."

curtis snickers, finally pulling on his sweats. "i'm sure I will."

luke nods—unsure what to say.

"better get going, rusty. think somebody is probably waiting to hear your voice." the center man's eyes dart between him and the phone in his hands, brows raised knowingly.

"right." he swallows, "see you later." luke practically runs out of the locker room, and as soon as he makes it down the hall, he raises the phone to his ear, hurriedly explaining to you the close call he'd just encountered with curtis.

three

you didn’t mean to have that many drinks—really, you didn't. but a couple of your friends from class invited you out to celebrate the ending semester, and because you all passed, they said drinks were in order and you had to join.

a few hours and many drinks in, you were practically falling over. you had stayed out later than you originally planned on, and curtis would be long asleep by now—leaving you with limited options for getting home.

drunk you—ever the clingy girlfriend—called luke almost instantly. and obviously luke picked up on the first ring, despite the early morning time, and of course he came to the bar as soon as you asked.

which brings you to right now, knees weak as you sway on your homes front porch, pouting up at your boyfriend in the cold winter night.

luke looks down at you gently, his eyes full of exhaustion. but yet, there’s a hint of amusement in them, and the edge of his mouth is turned up in a lazy smirk.

"kiss me goodnight." you drunkenly slur for the 10th time since luke guided you out of the car. you are looking at your boyfriend expectantly, an impatient whine leaving your lips. "please baby."

it's so dark outside he can barley make out your features, but he can see the way your hazy eyes twinkle at him—silently begging. luke's gaze flickers towards the ring camera quickly, praying that it's one that isn't an audio recorder, and if it does pick up sound, luke hopes you're too quiet to catch.

you’ve both always been careful with the camera before this, and if the lazar house was the only option for your…escapades, you’d both avoid the camera expertly—sneaking through windows and back doors like misbehaved children.

but you’re too drunk to even think about that, and luke’s too tired to even attempt sneaking you through the back door.

your pout turns into a smile, and your arms snake up his body, wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself up to your toes. "please please please please."

he sighs gently, glancing at the camera again. in a moment of weakness, he decides it's probably to dark too make out any kind of facial features through the camera anyway, and if he doesn't kiss you now, the camera will be the least of his worries.

so luke wraps his arms around your waist tighter, keeping your sway steady. he leans down, pecking your lips so quickly that he hopes even if the camera can see him, the affection was so brief that in a blink you'd miss it. "okay now go inside."

your grin widens, and as you finally pull away from luke, you're overjoyed and satisfied.

when you wake the next morning, you feel yourself panic—flashes of the kiss on the porch and the ring camera running through your mind.

you wait anxiously for curtis to bring it up and call you out for kissing his teammate in front of the front door...but it never comes.

the ring camera hasn't worked for a week—and that has you breathing a sigh of relief when your sister-in-law mentions it the following evening.

+one

you can't even think logically as you rush through the crowded arena, weaving through bodies as you clutch the pass around your neck, anxiously fiddling with the lanyard.

the scene in your head is playing on repeat—watching luke get thrown to the ice during the messy scrum from only minutes ago, his head slamming against the ice as he hit the ground.

you'd shot up from your seat, worry sketched across your face as you watched luke laying limp on the ice as the trainer spoke into his ear—the fear all but consumed you. jack's girlfriend tried to console you—comfort you—but nothing was helping.

you gave it 5 minutes. 5 minutes after they helped luke off the ice and down to the assessment room, before you were out of your seat, mumbling some excuse to sammy as you left.

you make your way through the tunnels easily, very much used to the area and familiar with the space after many visits with curtis. you find the assessment room easily, the door left open the smallest crack so you're able to subtly peek in—so if someone else is in there with him, you won’t be caught.

but it's just luke, sitting slumped on a doctor like bed with his eyes closed—arms crossed over his chest guard, his jerseys discarded in a sweaty lump on the metal table beside him.

with the coast clear, you push open the door fully, letting it softly swing closed behind you. the sound has luke's eyes fluttering open, and he immediately finds your worried eyes blinking back at him.

you breathe a heavy exhale, a slight wobble in the sound that portrays the emotion crawling up your throat—desperate to be let out. all the fear and stress and worry you've been feeling for the past 6 minutes are coming to a hilt, and you rush towards your boyfriend with a pout pulling at your lips. "are you okay?"

"hey." he mumbles gently, brows pulled tightly as you appear his side. "what are you doing down here?"

you gently take ahold of his face, eyes frantically bouncing around as if you're trying to locate any injuries. "luke, holy shit. I was so scared." tears begin welling in your eyes, bottom lip trembling. “you weren’t moving.”

luke slowly swings his legs over the side of the medical bed, cooing gently. your hands fall from his face in favour of wiping your own, catching the trail of water as it cascades down your cheeks.

luke's hockey pant covered thighs part, creating enough space for you to stand between them. he wraps his arm around you waist, bringing you into his embrace. you go easily, tears continuing to cloud your vision as you fall into his sweaty chest. "i'm sorry I scared you." he mumbles into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

you shake your head. "are you okay?" you ask again, pulling back just enough to look into his warm eyes. “what did they say?”

"i've got a concussion most likely, but i'll be fine." luke's words are reassuring, and so is the kiss he presses against your cheek. he's coherent, and he's moving—he's okay.

"is there anything you need from me?" you ask gently, pushing his wet curls off his forehead—something you’d always find yourself doing.

luke’s eyes flutter slightly at the comforting action. his soft grin turns boyish, and silently he purses his lips, asking for a kiss.

you roll your eyes gently, but oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. luke sighs pleasantly, parting his lips as he begins to deepen the kiss, pulling your body in tighter.

you smile into it, which allows luke the access to slip his tongue past your bottom lip, and you let him. his hand travels down your back, slowly tickling the expanse of your skin until he's rounding over the curve of your ass, giving your cheek a firm squeeze.

"alright rusty if you're gunna kiss my sister here, the least you could do is not play grab ass while you do it." the sudden voice of curtis has you pulling away, and you turn towards the door in record speed.

you'd been too lost in the trance luke always put you in—to absorbed in his body and lips that you'd missed not only the end of period buzzer echoing throughout the arena, but the door opening behind you.

you're too scared too move—too scared to even blink. you look at curtis with wide eyes, your face void of colour, giving you a lifeless look. and luke's no better, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish and his hand still on your ass cheek—even after you turned around.

you push his hand away and swallow roughly. "curtis...I-we can explain."

your brother shrugs. "there's nothing to explain. I know."

your brows shoot up. "you know?"

curtis nods triumphantly, looking rather pleased with himself. this time it's luke who speaks, swallowing the little salvia lingering in his dry mouth. "what-I-how?" he stutters.

"that night awhile back, when I came to check on you, luke's sweater was on your chair." he looks at you playfully, "I saw the number and I knew."

now you're going red, felling a wave of guilt and embarrassment creep in on you. "i'm sorry."

"we're sorry." luke adds gently. "we shouldn't of kept it a secret."

"I'm not mad—just a little disappointed that I was left out of the loop." then, curtis expression changes, looking at you with a gentle smile. "out of all the guys on this team you could’ve picked...rusty's the best one."

you smile, glancing up at luke.

he meets your gaze, and he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you back into his side.

"consider yourself in the loop." you chime through an exhale, looking back towards curtis.

"good." he nods, his usual teasing expression back on his face. curtis looks at luke, a brow raised. "so, were you under the bed or in the closet?"

you feel luke stiffen beside you, and you can't help but laugh.

[da3h0lovr]

KANG DAE-HO NSFW&SFW HCS

Nsfw below the cut!!

MDNI

A/N: I've written smut before on my old account but I deleted ittt💔 so hopefully you guys like this

Pairing(s?): Kang Dae-ho x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff and smut

Warnings: Cockwarming, Cum eating, Oral (F&M rec), hair pulling, PiV unprotected (wrap ur willy), Handjob

WC: ?? Idk but it's lengthy

SFW~

(Out of games)

• softest man EVER.

• you ask for something, and he is getting it for youu

• the type of boyfriend to drop anything and everything for you, no matter how big or small it is

• 100% a kind of guy to smother you in kisses when he missed you after a loooong day at work or something

"I missed you so much baby.." He mutters in between kisses, his larger hands gently holding your face as if you'd break if he held you any tighter. "I missed you too.." You say against his lips, a small smile finding it's way to your lips.

• You bet he's cuddling you after, watching your favorite movie while matching pyjama's.

• When you started dating he'd have to ask you to play with his hair by subtly nudging his head on your chest while you guys would cuddle. But now, you just know when he wants head rubs or his hair played with.

• To add onto that, if you stop playing with his hair before he's fallen asleep, he's a whiny little baby, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his hair.

"Jagi.. come on" He whines, a pout on his lips as he grabs your hand, his hold gentle. He places your hand back onto his hair, nuzzling himself into your hand. "You're such a baby~" You tease, and he let out a noise of protest.

NSFW~

(Out of games)

• He is 100% into cockwarming, prove me wrong.

• he'd have you on his lap, his hard cock nestled inside of you as he watches a show or something.

• But, eventually, he'd get too needy and just start thrusting up into you.

"A-ah shit.." He moans, his hands on your hips holding you steady as he slowly begins to thrust up into your dripping cunt. "So fuckin' tight" He'd quickly mutter in one breath, letting out a breath afterwards. "Oh fuck.." You whine out, your hands finding his shoulders, holding on for support.

• hear me out. He's a switch and leans towards sub!! I said it, bam.

• and to that, he is 100% a whiny and whimpery baby!! Craving praise 24/7.

• Definitely against being degraded, if you degrade him, he'll start crying and ask you if he did something wrong. (COMFORT THE BABY!!!)

• He loves it when you call him a good boy, and he'd call you mama if you do.

"M-mama.. go faster please" He whines out, closing his eyes tightly in pleasure. You move your hand faster, stroking his cock at a faster pace due to his request. He throws his head back against the plush pillows, his fingers curling as he grabs onto the sheets. His cock twitches in your hand, pre-cum oozing out of his tip. "Look at that.. such a good boy" You praise, which leads him to get closer and closer to his release.

• He's eating you out for hours if you ask. (Or if he begs enough) he doesn't do it for his own pleasure, though. He wants you to cum as many times as you can, he wants you to drench his face in your delicious juices.

• And in return, you'd suck him off, milking him for what he's worth.

You drop to your knees, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You reach up, undoing his belt. "May I?" You ask, and he nods quickly, shuffling a little closer to you. "Please.." He whispers, and you comply, taking out his hard, leaking cock. You stroke him a little before taking him in your mouth, letting out a soft hum.

• he is a man who'd love his hair pulled! Like he'd LOVE it when yall are making out and you just tug on his hair a little, or when he's eating you out. PULL. HIS. HAIR! Man will go FERAL.

----------------------

Thank you for reading! I appreciate it, let me know if yall want some like little extended drabbles/fics of the hcs! I gladly will, I already have 2 of them that I plan to extend in the future but lmkk💞

Taglist:

@jennwonwoo

[latenighttalkinqwp]

hey girl! could u do a fic of compilations of reader and Paige being the cutest couple on the court or off the court

maybe even both?👀

love ya💕

americas favorite couple : a thread

1. warm-up welcome

before every game, you and paige have a pre-game ritual — she always finds her in the stands, gives a quick wink, and mouths, “let’s get it.” it’s subtle, but it’s your thing, and it never fails to get paige locked in.

2. you being her personal hype woman

no one hypes paige up like you. whether it’s a no-look pass or a step-back three, youre the first one jumping up, screaming, and filming the replay like a proud mom and a cheerleader rolled into one. very much draft paige vibes!!

3. “he just comes runnin over to me”

after every game, win or loss, paige sprints over, wraps you up in a sweaty hug, and plants the softest kiss on your cheek. it's always wholesome, never over the top — just the perfect, real-life sports movie moment. the tiktok edits are always top tier

4. matching moments

you guys definitely got matching customized sneakers with little doodles only they understand — a tiny heart here, initials there, maybe a date inked in. very subtle, but you can tell there's a whole love story within the shoe. people beg for them to be released 24/7

5. makeshift date nights

while other couples do dinner and movies, you and paige are in the gym. you get rebounds for her, and critique her form ( even if you have no clue what you’re talking about ) . you guys play 1v1, trash talk, and fall for each other all over again .

6. lazy days

off the court? you guys will be in oversized hoodies, making silly tiktoks, dancing terribly (but together), and giggling at random animal videos. you definitely cook dinner for each other, and cozy up on the couch and binge netflix

7. good luck notes for away games

every now and then, paige finds a folded note in her shoe before an away game you couldn’t make it to— which usually says something like “God’s got you, and i’m cheering you on from the couch!” she doesn’t say anything, but her smile walking on the court lets you know that she found it.

8. not so secret clothes swap

you always manage to wear her warmup hoodie like it’s designer, geno eventually gave up on trying to ask paige where hers was. in return, paige somehow ends up in your hoodie post-game, smelling like ariana grande compared to her usual cologne.

9. post game interviews

in the post game conference, paige will somehow always find a way to bring up ‘her girl’ and make it known how much she is thankful for you ( while looking dead at you )

10. “i want a relationship like this”

whether it’s holding hands walking out of the arena, supporting each other through injuries, or just being each other’s safe space after a tough loss, you and paige prove that the best kind of love is the kind that shows up — on the court, off the court, and always.

- thank you so much for reading all the way through! click here to see my masterlist

- this was SO fun to write ( im so sorry this request took me ages anon, im terrible at remembering to write 😭 ) i loved this so much, keep the reqs coming !

[vxnuslogy]

╭──────     deliverance's right hand    ✦ ⸝⸝

            ✦   ⭑𓂃   honkai: star rail      ┆     phainon    .ᐟ                ──╯

𐔌  warnings. ooc-phainon ( written before pre-release ), very much word vomit        ♟      notes. phainon yearning so bad i made a fic when he first appeared during the last last livestream. 

           ━━━ art credits. hoyoverse        ♟         tags.  @starcharmed @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @powchakko @pneumosia ; if you'd like to be tagged please fill out the forms in my pinned post !!

                                 ౨ৎ the nameless king, phainon — historians can only wonder what your relationship was with amphoreus' king.

a nameless new king who ascended to the throne andbrought new heroes with him is sure to be written down in history. with a silver blade and its golden hilt shining under the sunlit battlefields, soldiers and enemies alike revel in his glory. even as the sky turned red and the black tides beckoned, deliverance was always there to keep them at bay. 

his mission was simple and sound, freeing this world of the darkness that consumed his home. one would say he was a foolish boy for daring to draw a sword against a god when he was only but a child, but his right hand man would argue it was his destiny to protect. with the attack so sudden and their heroes falling, people could not help but feel their hope flicker out and die. and you? you stayed close by the future king’s side, shaking hands clutching at his bloodstained shawl as he fought with a dull blade meant for training. but despite all the fear and red stained hopelessness, you still chose to remain by his side, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

even at his coronation, he dared to refuse the crown if you were not by his side. what a rude child he was to ask the king for a nobody like you to help him get dressed, but he made no complaint. this child, with white hair that glistened like snow in winter and eyes like the oceans reflecting a sunrise view, phainon was this world’s new king—their new hero. and you would be his trusted right hand.

the people cheered when he took the palace’s balcony. stretches upon stretches of miles filled with his now citizens as they cheered and chanted his name like a prayer. “all hail the new king!” “in the name of deliverance!” these words fell deaf in his ears when his eyes trailed off the side, eventually settling on your figure draped in clothing you were uncertain to wear. hidden by the dancing curtains and the afternoon sun hitting your skin while your hair was decorated with a golden laurel wreath. you were his right hand man. you were his. and phainon thought, “maybe being a king wasn’t too bad after all.”

and as the years went by and more wars emerged, people grew doubtful. but not you. no, never you. in spite of all the bloodshed, you were patient with your care and assistance. rubbing off the blood that stained his body, or how you tend to the sword he’s used recklessly, you were never once swayed with the masses questioning. you’d still greet him warmly by the palace gates, help him settle in bed and let you treat him as if he were a child. to you, maybe he was—he grew up too fast, putting the world’s responsibilities on a plate meant for childhood games and dreams.

“are you not afraid?” he ends up asking one night as he laid in his bed. one whole arm wrapped in tight bandages as you folded his clothes by the bed’s edge. you turn to him curiously, the innocence of your childhood still in the glimmers of your eyes but it never glazes with ignorance. phainon thinks you are an angel sent from above in this light—face half illuminated by the candle in his room, his cape at your lap, and the clothing that was distinctively made to match his. in this light you were utterly and wholly his.

“of what?” you asked in return. a soft smile tugging at your lips as you move closer to him. your hand brushed with his and phainon is struck with fear the enemy could ever place on him. 

the king wonders. quietly and introspectively. completely to himself but still bare to you. “are you not afraid of me?”

and to his surprise, you laugh. he’s bewildered beyond imagination as his mind races with thoughts he could not fully process. “why are you laughing?” he asked with a furrow of his brows. hand twitching under your hold as if you’ve held him captive against his will. but deep down in his heart, phainon would not mind to be your poor servant if it meant seeing you every second of the day.

“it was a silly question, that’s all.” 

something changed in the way you looked at him that night. because the following day, and the day after that, and until the end of the month, you looked at him gently. that he was far more valuable than any life on this planet. the look of what he assumed was love. and he replies by giving you the same look, but with actions instead. 

he is still a king—a soldier meant to fight in war and not a lover meant to be in your hold—but he wanted to be yours, too. phainon didn’t want to claim you as his because you wake him up with gentle humming, settle him on the dining table with meticulous meals to satiate his unusual pickiness, or because you treat the clothing he’s deemed a curse like a part of his being that needs to be cherished. no, no, that was unbefitting of your grace and level. 

you deserved to be drowned in your favorite flowers, a dance partner under the starry night, and a future monarch that his home already loves. without meaning to, you and the nameless king of heroes have eloped to becoming lovers outside prying eyes. anyone would notice how king phainon had stars in his eyes whenever you walked in the room, how he always reached for your hand like how he did with his sword, or whenever he sought you out first during every gala or ball. you were already each other’s without having to say it or even act on it—loving has become as easy as breathing.

some historians will argue that you were only the king’s right hand, always there to serve as a clear voice in his cloudy mind. but others would argue you were more his lover, partners for eternity with entwined souls. but to phainon, you were more than these two things—you were his deliverance, a sanctuary in this exhausting world.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[chonkymoth]

being a fan of kcd pre vs post the second game's release feels so surreal,, there were like 12 of us total screaming about motifs and themes and hansry and now it's all over my dash, it's on the trending tags, there's 5+ times the fics on AO3, i'm following blogs that don't even go here reblogging fanart......what a fucking time to be alive man

[darinawrites]

✦-Drunk for love-✦

Pairing: Thanos x implied f!reader

Summary: you've picked up on some bad habits of your lover, him not being by your side for so long, he hadn't noticed. Only once he came back, eyes transfixed on your passed out body, did he notice his mistake. (thanos finding you passed out from drugs).

Contents: angst and a bit of fluff, pre game, drugs and alcohol, inaccuracy of drugs? (I can't be bothered to let my knowledge expand, only knowing some side effects they have).

A/n: This feels so rushed, I wrote this before (again) passing out of exhaustion, so I apologize if its rushed/badly written 😓 but please give my man anything other than non con, there aren't enough fluff and angst fics of him.

Word count: 1.3k

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ｡｡

How long has it been? You hadn't bothered to check the days anymore, knowing its been a few months since you last saw him. Vanishing with pathetic excuses at your lowest.

You should hate him, you really should. The burning aftertaste of alcohol lingering in your throat. Because of him, to simply forget your worries for one night, multiple bottles of wine and beer surrounding you. He's luminary, letting you follow his leads of bad habits.

Taking another sip, it just wasn't enough. You could still think clearly, thoughts still occupied with him. You wanted to the alcohol to gnawn on your brain, a pernicious affect of a headache the next morning. But it wouldn't give you that, your body getting used to it over the months.

Groaning as your limp body pulled itself up, checking your phone for any messages, his message. Yet none popped up, silently letting your eyes glisten at the empty phone. Shaky hands putting it down, closing your eyes.

In that moment you suddenly remembered where Thanos kept some of his drugs. Ideas rushing back to your mind, ideas you've tried to ignore. But the alcohol rushing trough your veins made your mind beg for it, for a release.

Hopping off the couch, accidentally letting bottles shatter as you could barely walk, but you couldn't be bothered. Setting your destination to the bedroom.

You could still remember his voice, blabbering out how strong these new drugs are, your eyes setting on a colourful puny pill you picked up. You could just take the pragmatic approach. Letting the pills fall and rest your body, whom is filled to the brim with liquor. But, why should you? You contemplated, thoughts whirling inside your head as you just stared. Staring at the small pill in your hand that could change everything.

Glancing at your phone beside you, no indication of a message, you knew your choice. Popping the pink pill in your mouth, immediately feeling a difference in your body, a sudden feeling of drowsiness washing over you.

People really weren't lying with how strong even one pill was. Your brain not comprehending anything, mushed by the alcohol and the newly intruding drug in your vein.

You lost your balance, the weight off your body too much to bear as you simply collapsed against the floor, drunken smile on your face, pupils dilated, the world around you becoming smaller.

Giggling for no reason, you let out slurred words, seemingly talking with yourself before the drowsiness traveled to your eyes.

Not fighting the sleepiness, the room blurring as you let your body go limp, mouth agape with your irregular breathing, eyes closed, the darkness so comforting to you. Your thoughts chewed up, exactly how you wanted it, as everything went blank.

Now passed out on the floor, your body not being able to react as your phone buzzed beside your face, the screen enlightening as a message was delivered.

Thanos had a big smile on his face, finally being able to come back as he strode to the door. How long has it been? His fingertips wanting to relish the softness of your skin again, your lips clashing against his. Gosh, he couldn't wait.

The blinds were pulled down, not being able to peek over them. Impatiently pulling against the doorknob, but instead of being met with your lovely perfume, a lingering smell of cigarettes and alcohol were in the atmosphere.His smile faltered, yet his voice still called out with a tinge of hope. Within seconds of no presence to be known, he rushed into the living room and let out a small gasp.

An immense amount of beer and wine bottles laying everywhere, glass shatters between gaps they didn't fill. He knew you as the girl who threw up after 2 shots of vodka, the girl that forced him to take a shower if there even a slight smell of alcohol coming from him.

"What's all this? Heyy, where are you!?"

Worry depend though as your figure could not be seen anywhere, his words once again the only ones that echoed trough his ear. Despair now coming in as he looked around the house, only finding out where you've been once the bedroom door creaks.

Your hair over your face as you were laid down on the floor, familiar pills right beside you.

There's no way, right? You wouldn't have taken what he thought you did, he always tried his best to not let his bad habits rub off on you. He's been away for so long, he couldn't even stop you.

He kneeled in front of you, shaking you, yet your eyes didn't budge. A sign of life was against his fingers as your pulse was irrational, yet still there. He was simply in disbelief, staring down at your resting face.

He wanted to see you, not just a limp body. The urge to take the pill you still held in your hand becoming strong, but he refused. He couldn't do that to you. Breaking out of his trance as his arms wrapped around your torso, freezing to the touch as he lifted you up on the bed.

"Fucking hell...why didn't you tell me" he muttered to himself, running his hands trough his coloured hair. A 'surprise' he wanted to show you.

He normally didn't mind the smell of alcohol or cigarettes, but he couldn't help the scrunch of his face when he smells it on you. That shouldn't be there, guilt now evident in his face.

Sighing, he got out some pain killers for tomorrow placing them nearby before simply plopping down beside you and hugging you tightly, fingers creeping back to your pulse. The stress was too much to deal with, and with not wanting to get high, your one sided embrace set his mind at ease. Not long before his loud snores came back, setting his worries aside for tomorrow.

･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ

Waking up with an ache in your head, your body sore as you softly groaned. You could barely remember last night, mind hazy as your memory seemingly left you. Yet your body was warm and flushed against an unknown person.

A strong and familiar grip around your waist, ears now picking up snores in the air. Nose filled with the smell of alcohol and an extra added weight was on top of your head.

Your breaths turned to small pants, all the evidence leading to the person you've longed for.

Turning around, you could recognise that face anywhere, even beneath the veil of darkness. Eyelashes fluttering up to see his relaxed features.

Gosh, you wanted to scream, to hit him and blame him for everything. To explain how he ruined you, to let him see his mistake, your candor personality spilling everything. But at the same time, his warmth was all you were begging for. Wishing his idiotic face would leave marks all over you.

Overwhelmed. Emotions all over the place, you simply let your head fall onto his broad shoulders. Sniffles coming as tears swelled in your eyes. No matter how conflicted you feel, your tears could always stain his shoulders. The ache in your body only adding to the situation as your arms wrapped around him tightly, wanting your skin to feel his touch.

He gently stirred, but you couldn't pay attention to it, your focus on the tears streaming down your face. You were disillusioned that you let yourself get to this point, how could you? What was-

A hand on your head broke the train of thoughts, caressing your hair. The touch was surprisingly gentle, accompanied by the metal on his fingers.

"Go to sleep, señorita. Rest up." he hushed in your ear, pushing your face in the direction of his neck.Your instincts rushed to let your head nuzzle against his neck, stifling your sniffles as he softly smirked against you.

You'll save your energy to argue for tomorrow, when the day is young and your mind more clear. For now, you let his embrace guide you back to sleep. Mumbling out a 'I love you' before closing your eyes.

How you missed this.

[mattybsgroupie]

Thoughs on milf reader x shy Chris

— chris and milf!reader

chris never fails to make you laugh. he’s younger than you, but that doesn’t make him any less attractive. you daughter introduced him as a friend and he’d often come over to play video games or just hangout, and whenever your daughter was upstairs, getting ready to go out or busy with something else, chris would keep you company at the kitchen.

until he came over while your daughter was traveling with her father. you were home alone, and he knew it. “hi, dear” you said while opening the door, the sweet yet sensual tone in your voice sending a shiver down chris’s spine.

“uhm, hey” he said, scratching the back of his head. you noticed how his fingers tangled on his hair — chris was tense. the other hand was placed inside his pocket and chris had his lips bruised from biting them all the time.

“she’s not here today, honey” you told him, thinking your daughter could’ve forgotten to tell him she’d be absent. “i know” chris answered on a firm voice, looking at you for the first time. “c-can i come in?”

you nodded and entered the house, waiting for chris to join you. he already knew the way to the kitchen and quietly followed you there. “i haven’t cooked since it’s just me” you said, noticing how his blue eyes scanned the empty table.

“oh” chris was caught off guard. “y-you don’t have to” he said. you raised an eyebrow and placed both of your hands on your hips, a classic mom pose. “i just like your food, that’s all” he looked away as you chuckled.

“aw baby” you said, opening your arms to give him a warm, tender hug. “fuck, don’t call me that” chris mumbled under his breath as you approached him. you clicked your tongue in disapproval, silently calling him out. you were the older one and he needed to show some respect.

that’s when you noticed it. you just glanced at him and said a few pet names, and there he was. hard, in front of you. you walked towards him in slow steps, the sound of your heels clacking on the floor. you placed you hand on his tummy and gradually lowered yourself to his boner, gently palming it.

“chris, what’s this?” you say as if you’re surprised. “you’re a naughty, naughty boy” chris lets out a loud whimper, throwing his head back as he feels your hand around him for the first time. “i just— ‘m s-sorry” he tried to speak when you finally got a proper grip of his cock, stroking him over his sweaters.

“are you?” you teased, getting inside his pants. you wrapped your knuckles around chris’s dick and place a kiss on his neck. you could feel his shaft covered in pre-cum, his cock twitching around your fist. “hm? what is it baby?”

“mommy” he let out without even thinking. his eyes were closed and his forehead was glued to your shoulder, his pathetic moans filling the quiet house. “‘m gonna cum!” “is that why you came here, chris? you wanted mommy to take care of you?” you cooed, biting the exposed skin of his neck. with one last stroke, chris came all over your fingers.

the thick, sticky liquid covered your hand and dripped down his legs, staining his grey sweatpants. you brought your hand to your lips, licking all of his release. chris whimpered as he watched the scene, feeling his cock getting hard again.

poor little chris. he just needed mommy to make him feel good.

the fic was written. HERE

[surly-sara]

Supernova | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Caleb's POV of the events of the previous part. Non-canon compliant, as I started this fic before he was released, and it turns out Caleb and mc were in the shelter together after the chronorift catastrophe, whereas I have them meeting at their gran's house for the first time in this fic. I also wrote Caleb and mc only being one year apart, unlike in the game, where they seem to be 3 or 4 years apart. Otherwise, I've tried to incorporate everything we've learned about him so far into this fic. This story contains: obsessive, possessive, jealous behavior. codependency. angst. yearning, mutual pining. some sexual fantasy on Caleb's part. I lean fully into the yandere Caleb that infold gifted us with. i hope it's enjoyable!

He is a star, just on the edge of going supernova. His rage at his lack of control, the voice in his head predicting he’ll become as destructive as a black hole someday, the mass of his emptiness and the twinned want for it to be filled—always on the verge of crushing his soul.

You are his twin, his other, his only, in his binary system, anchoring him with your gravity—your pull, the defiance of physics, as your force on him prevents him both from careening out alone in the dark and from imploding into himself, collapsing into the black hole he knows his truest form to be.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

When it becomes too much. When the feelings inside him feel too big for his skin. You have always been there, a steadying force, a constant companion as he burns through the universe, through life. He is shaped, contained, filled by you, as you are carved, eroded, sculpted by him.

One bright day, Gran brings you home. Introduces you to your new big brother. You look—naked. Exposed. All of your feelings, right on your face. Your fear, hesitation, pain, all clear as the bright sunny day for him to read in your big, bright, sad eyes. He doesn’t know why, but it hurts his heart, to see how scared you are of his reaction to your presence in his home, now yours.

He smiles wider, offers you his hand.

The moment you reach for him, big eyes never leaving his, and he feels your soft skin against his palm, he somehow knows it’s over, and just beginning.

Perhaps it’s his evol. The fact that he can bend, control, subdue gravity, gravity which is so closely linked to time. Because the moment that you touch his hand contracts and expands, stretches—everything narrows to his skin against yours, to this point in time. Perhaps his evol allows his future, past, parallel selves to infuse him with knowledge, because he somehow knows he will never escape you, the pull of you, no matter what the rest of the world says, from this moment onward, suspended in time—your hand in his, a butterfly smothered in sap, hardened into amber. Amber that he carries in his hand, when yours isn’t there to fill it.

Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Something in him, recognizing something in you. Your fear. Your hollow eyes. The anger, underneath the fear. You’re so, so pretty. Like a living doll.

You take his offered hand, despite your fear, the pain in your eyes, and Caleb feels for the first time like he has a purpose. Value. Something he can control, in a life that has spun out of his control more times than he can count. He’s not just a threatening black hole. He can look after you. Keep you safe. Remove that fear from your eyes. He can nurture, instead of only destroy.

He’s a boy, offering a gentle hand to a scared girl, who needs him. And in the offering, and her acceptance, his own need comes into existence, a bright flash in his dark universe.

He shows you around, friendly, earnest for the first time in a long time, chattering about anything he can think of to keep your eyes on him, you listening to him, your attention on him. It feels so, so good.

But he has to go to school. He has to leave you behind, during the day. He spends his days lying, pretending to listen attentively, pretending to be interested in the same things his friends are interested in. He mimics the laughter of his friends, smiles his empty, useful smile, as he thinks of all the ways he can alleviate the pain, the fear in your eyes. As he imagines your hand in his.

He finds you in closets, curled up on yourself, a tightly furled flower. He doesn’t want to pluck you from where you feel safe.

He just wants to change what makes you feel safe. A gardener, repotting a rose. A rose he knows that has thorns as deadly as his own.

He squeezes in next to you, in the dark. Puts his arm around you. Chatters again, telling you stupid stories, making stuff up, anything to help you relax, distract you from what haunts you, melt into his side. You eventually let him lead you from the dark, into the light. You curl up next to him, as he puts together a model airplane. Your eyes watch his hands as he fits the pieces together, as he carefully glues them.

He pauses, holds one hand up. When you just stare at him in confusion, he gently takes your wrist, and pulls your palm to his.

Already, his hands are bigger than yours.

I’m bigger than you. So I’ll always be able to protect you.

He gently sets your palm back into your lap. You snuggle closer to him.

He feels so, so good.

But there’s something wrong with you. Gran sits him down at the kitchen table, looks earnestly at him. She tells him about your heart. 

It’s our job to take care of her. Can you help me?

He knows what she is asking.

He knows about her migraines. How hard she works. He doesn’t know why, or what she’s doing.

He just knows that she’s telling him what he already knew, from that first moment. He needs to look after you.

But she didn’t even have to ask. He has already been doing this, from the moment you took his hand. It is easy for him to nod in response to Gran’s question. Of course.

For the first time in his life, he has something of his very own, giving him purpose. He can nurture, instead of destroy. Is it selfish, if it gives him so much pleasure? Seeing you slowly unfurl, and come to depend on him.

You start seeing your doctor, taking the pills to stabilize your heart. You always come home exhausted, drained, from your appointments. He sits with you, sharing a thick blanket in his room with the big bay window, and reads to you. Books from Gran’s library. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he feels like he’s flying, like he’s finally not alone, for the first time in his life. The more time you spend reading together, the more you begin to speak, giving him your thoughts on what you are reading.

You give him the gift of seeing the world not only through his own eyes, but through yours.

The medication is horrible for you.

He understands what Gran was asking, the first time you choke on the pills. The first time he finds you vomiting, huddled over the toilet.

It feels like a part of himself is in pain, watching you in pain. He hates it.

He hates it, but he loves it.

Soothing you. Comforting you. Watching your face, drawn in a frown of pain, relax under the wet cloth in his hand, as you manage to swallow, under his palm on your throat.

As he cares for you, carries you to bed in his gangly, too long arms, he isn’t a black hle, destroying anything, everything. He’s nurturing. And he also doesn’t have to control his face, hide his feelings, pretend to be normal and interested in normal-people things. He’s just himself, taking care of what’s his.

Slowly, slowly, the medication is adjusted, you’re no longer sick all the time. He’s happy to see you regain strength, color in your face.

He takes you for walks, out in the sunshine, under the open sky, in the fields of wildflowers beyond Gran’s house. You cling to him, complain of vertigo, staring up into endless blue. There were no skies, in the labs where you lived for so long.

His heart aches. He thinks of lifting you into the air, letting you experience flight, the flight he yearns for, the only time in his life he ever feels free. Before you came. But now, having you at his side, feels like flying.

But he doesn’t want to scare you. He pulls you down with him, to the earth, surrounded by so many living things, so different from the lab that kept you caged for so long. He thinks such a lovely rose deserves the soil, the fireflies, all the growing things as companions.

He pulls you down into the wildflowers, and he tells you about his dreams of flying. He wants to share this part of himself with you. He holds your hand in his, index finger pointing, and names the types of airplanes that fly overhead.

Later, you’ll ask him to make you fly, and he will. Your body weightless, in a field of flowers, as you laugh, one of the few times you actually ever smile. A smile only he sees. A laugh, and a smile, that belong to him, only to him. In a world where he’s never had anything to call his own before, he now has your smile, and your laugh.

One night, he comes to check on you, as he often does when you’re sleeping. But you’re not huddled in your bed, long lashes sweeping across your soft cheek. The window is open, curtains whispering in the chill breeze. He finds you on the roof, shivering. He doesn’t know why you didn’t bring a coat. He just knows that you are cold, and he is big, and his body is warm, and already what’s his, is yours. He wraps himself around you, feels you melt against his chest.

He tells you about the stars. Again, he holds your hand in his, index finger pointing, and names the constellations, the bright planets that look like stars.

The night you begin dreaming about flying, high in the sky, amidst the stars, he begins to dream about you. His anchor. His north star. The point around which he revolves.

When you finally start school, he’s so excited. Helps you pick out your backpack, your school supplies at the corner store. But he can tell, from the moment you walk into the crowded hallways, how overwhelmed you are. You revert to that strange frozen stiffness you had, when Gran brought you home. He hates it. He looks around. Finds a quiet classroom. He uses his size, his presence, to wrap you in safety, resting his elbows on either side of you against the classroom wall.

Look at me. Look only at me. 

So what, if what he wants is selfish, and gives him what he wants, if it helps you too? If its primary purpose is to calm you, soothe you, help you at school, in every aspect of your life? 

Caleb is hungry, selfish. He knows this. As long as he can control it, it’s okay. As long as his selfishness aligns with helping you, it’ll be okay, right?

You calm down, as he tells you to look for him, anytime you’re overwhelmed. That he’ll be there. A promise he’ll always keep, forever.

He sees how the other kids respond to you. They see your unsmiling face, your quiet, ever-vigilant stillness, and they immediately recognize you as different. Strange. Their base animal instincts are to distrust anything that’s other. 

Caleb is a star, the rage fueling his core, boiling. He still smiles. Charms. Draws people in with his wholesome apple boy mask. He learned this, long ago—to get what you want, to control what happens to you, means controlling other peoples’ perceptions of you.

He wears a mask, like he wears his school uniform. As easy as breathing, most of the time.

When he sees people bothering you, he flies to you. Smiling. Putting his arm around you, guiding you away. He will protect you from the entire world, including other children—they were simple props before. An unavoidable reality, to charm, neutralize, recruit to his side so ease his path to the future, his path to escaping this school and this youth where he has so little control. But now, he considers them hardly more than animals, as he watches them scent you, and begin to growl.

Are you his sister? Why do you walk home together all the time? What’s wrong with you?

He intervenes. Draws you into his side, pulls you close. No, she’s not my sister.

Despite how much he already loves you, how close he feels to you, he balks at the idea of you being his sister.

He crushes the soda can in his hand, no evol necessary, the first time it occurs to him that if he accepts that you’re his sister, like the adoption papers say, like Gran says, like the kids at school say, then one day he won’t be the most important person in your life. He’ll just be your brother.

He can’t stand it.

He has friends at school with siblings. They complain about their annoying little sisters, their jerk older brothers. They joke and laugh and pester each other, and also defend each other when someone else is doing the bullying.

Caleb could never, ever complain about you. He has never found you annoying. He already knows that he is prepared to crush anyone who would dare look at you strangely, let alone bully you.

He wants to spend all of his time with you. He wants to keep helping you grow. He wants to be the soil in which you flourish.

Even as a boy, he knows that he’s not satisfied with being just your brother. He wants to be everything, if it’s to you.

He knows that he hurts you, every time he denies that you’re his sister.

But you’re more. He can’t explain it yet, or claim it yet. He tells himself: he’ll tell you, when you’re older. When he has more control of his own life, and can do even more than just making sure your life is as easy as possible, as he cooks for you, cleans for you. As he helps you wash, care for your hair, his rose, his doll. 

He hopes you can forgive him, in the end, for carving out this future for the both of you, where he’s not just your brother, and you’re not just his sister. Brothers and sisters part ways. Move into their own houses. Marry other people.

He tells himself that he’ll make up for every grievance you have against him, every time he hurts you when he denies you as his sister, when you’re both older, when he can actually do something about what he knows is his fundamental truth.

You’re not his sister. He’s not your brother. 

You’re just his, and he is yours.

Time passes. Each day, he gets to walk with you to school, holding an umbrella over your head when it’s raining. Handing you his aviator sunglasses when it’s too bright. He gets to see you in the halls, across the meaningless crowds.

Holding your hand through it all. 

One spring day, as you’re walking home from school together, you find a cat, mewling pathetically from the bushes. It has crawled underneath, hiding in the thick foliage in an effort to protect itself.

It’s hurt. Caleb is sympathetic, but he would have kept walking. He has his own injured creature to care for, after all. But you—you’re absolutely distraught. You beg him to pick it up, carry it home wrapped in his jacket.

You never need to beg. But he doesn’t mind when you do.

As he lifts up the scruffy cat, which doesn’t scratch or bite, seemingly resigned to its fate or too scared to resist, it reminds him of you, the first day you came home. Your pain, and your fear. Your rage, banked for fear of retribution.

He carries the cat home, wrapped in his jacket.

You consult Gran on how to care for it. You do so, diligently, getting up at all hours in the night to check on it. Which is the only reason it doesn’t manage to escape.

Finally, Caleb gets fed up with the ridiculous thing trying to slink away while it’s injured. Trying to avoid the care you’re so faithfully offering it. Foolishly rejecting what’s best for it.

He buys a collar with his allowance, and a bell. Slips it around the shivering thing’s fragile neck.

It occurs to him how pretty you’d look, with something similar.

He’d hear you, wherever you were. In the night, crawling onto the roof alone. Vomiting at the toilet, alone.

Walking in the halls at school, surrounded by so many people in the world who do not matter. Who simply present a barrier, when he’s trying to maneuver through their mass of bodies to get to you when he can see you freezing, withdrawing into yourself. When he knows you need him.

He wants to put a pretty collar with a bell on you, and listen to the tinkling, meant for his ears, and his ears alone.

Thanks to the bell, the cat heals. As it frolics away, free at last, Caleb watches it go, a twisting, painful sensation in his belly. He turns, looks at you. You’re not smiling, but your face is shining, your eyes bright. He can see that you’re happy with the work you both did for the cat.

He hates himself, for the feelings inside of him. 

He wants to reach over, put his big hand around your neck. Loosely. Just to feel your heartbeat in your throat under his palm. To reassure himself that you’re still here. That you still need him. That you’re not going anywhere, and that you won’t be leaving him alone, anytime soon.

He’s so, so selfish. He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

Time passes. 

One morning, he finds you thrashing in bed, breathing heavily, an animal panic choking your lungs. He thinks it’s a normal panic attack for you, is prepared to help you breathe, to walk you through it, as he always does, but then he sees the blood in the sheets.

He’s read about this. He paid attention in health class. He needs to know everything about you, your body, how it’s different from his, and how to care for it, if he’s to look after you properly.

Gran isn’t always around. In fact, she’s away more often than not.

In her bedroom, with a migraine. Or working so hard, on something she can’t talk about.

You’ve had your first period. 

He’s heard boys talking, joking, jeering at school. It disgusts him, how they talk about girls, as if girls aren’t people too. He looks at you, and all he sees is a person—pretty as a doll, but full of life. Of fear and dreams and the longer you’re with him, you feel safe enough to demand anything, everything of him. He hates how the guys at school talk about girls. Because you’re a girl, and you have a whole universe inside of you, one that he’s so happy to discover every time you open your mouth. Every time you discover something new that you like, or hate, or annoys you.

How can you, as a girl, and your body, experiencing something outside of your control, be fodder for a joke?

He strides into your bedroom, grabs your wrists. Look at me. Don’t look at the blood.

Your breathing calms, as your big, bright eyes stare into his own.

It feels so, so good, as you relax. As you look to him, for help, for comfort, for soothing all of your fears. He wants, needs you to know how good it feels for him, to be able to do this to you, with you. You’re so, so good.

Good girl.

Your face does something funny, when he says these words. He thinks that the look on your face right now mirrors the feeling in his chest, when you listen to him, rely on him, let him open the pickle jar, let him smooth the way of any obstacles you have. When you smile for him, and no one else. When you allow him to nurture, instead of just destroy.

He helps you with the laundry. Finds himself regretting dumping the stain remover on your blood, stuffing the sheets in the washer. Your blood is a part of you, as much as your beautiful hair, your soft skin, the sharp tongue in your mouth.

Caleb thinks there might be something wrong with him, with how much he wants to keep your sheets, just as they are, tucked away somewhere in his closet. 

He resists the urge, just barely.

Later, after he’s bought you pads with his allowance. After you walk around the house with a strange gait, like you can’t stand to bring your legs together, he teases you. You throw the apple at him, eyes bright—defiant, annoyed. He enjoys watching you take the bite, because he told you to. He loves it, every time he tells you to do something, and you do it, no questions asked. 

Proof of how much you trust him. How much you need him.

Just like he needs you.

Later, at school, he catalogues the boys who make jokes about girls, and periods. He watches, listens. Lies through his teeth, chummy and just a normal teenage boy himself, of course. He notes the worst offenders.

It’s unfortunate, how they trip. Down the stairs. On nothing. Rumors start going around the school that there’s a ghost haunting a particular flight of stairs, right outside of Caleb’s homeroom.

He loves you so much, it hurts. He enjoys passing the pain along, to others who also deserve it.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

Years pass.

You become accustomed to the confined chaos of school, interacting with so many people. You seem calmer, in the busy hallways. You snort, joke, even if you don’t smile at school, when he has to leave you for awhile, so he can continue his wholesome apple boy lie. Student council president, captain of the basketball team, MVP for the football team, medal winner in track and field. He lifts weights after school, is diligent about his diet, his protein intake, each week new gains bulking out his already tall body. He must do everything possible to lay the foundations for his future success, so he can provide for you. Be a constant pillar of strength for you. Continue giving you everything you need.

You come to him, when you’re upset. When everyone, everything begins to overwhelm you. He holds you. He jokes with you. He tells you stupid stories. He cooks for you. He feels satisfaction, deep in his blood. 

And then, somehow, maybe while he wasn’t looking—although he’s always looking, so when would that even have been? He hasn’t stopped looking at you, from the first moment you came home.

But from one day to the next, you are a girl—pretty, cute, still, solemn.

And then—you are still all those things, but you are also beautiful.

Beautiful in a way that turns his brain into mush. A pretty living doll, but one that he wants. Not just to care for her hair, feed her, rock her to sleep. He wants all that, and more. 

His heart races when you come close, when he can smell the scent of your skin, your shampoo, your sweat, your breath. You’re so beautiful, it hurts.

For the first time, he wants more than to hold you in his arms.

He wants to put his mouth on you.

He wants to put his hands all over you, not to check to see where it hurts, but to check where you feel good. Where you like to be touched the most.

The size of his want terrifies him.

He tries to control it. To laugh, and joke, to pat your head, mess up your hair. He wears a new mask, over his old one.

Wholesome apple boy, who has never once imagined putting his tongue in his sister’s mouth.

And then, one night, you have your first nightmare. About what, you never say. You tell him you don’t remember. He doesn’t know if he believes you. It drives him insane, not knowing. 

He hears you, your hoarse cry, in his sleep. He jolts up in bed, hears it again. Gran will sleep through it, as she always slept through the side effects of the pills, slept through when you had the flu.

It’s up to him, to go to you.

He stands in the doorway of your room, and feels so big. A looming monster, his shadow stretching across your bedroom floor, blanketing your small body. You’ve always been small, but this time, the first time you reach for him in the night, body and nightclothes wet with sweat, you feel so fragile to him, in his big arms. He could crush you. 

It terrifies him.

It turns him on.

He’s a liar, and he’s so, so selfish.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

He clutches you to him, makes another selfish decision. Instead of stripping your bed, helping you put on new sheets, tucking you back in, he takes you to his own bed. Pulls you close against his body, under the covers. Blanketing you with his own smell, his own arms. His.

You fall asleep like that. He stays awake, his body aching painfully with want. If you notice how hard he is in the morning, tucked against your back, your ass, you never say anything.

Your worst nights are his favorite nights.

He’s so, so selfish.

After so many years together, you have fully come out of your shell, when you’re with him. Not only do you turn to him for comfort, reveal your smile, only to him, you also show him the full spectrum of your inner world, your feelings. From sorrow, fear, need—to frustration, rage. You hold it in at school, carefully blank, until you get home, and then you explode. 

He loves it.

It’s a fireworks show that only he ever gets to see. He’s relieved that you have so much fire inside of you, after spending so long being afraid to express it.

He feels a sense of accomplishment, for being the soil in which you could flourish in all of your explosive colors.

Only he gets the privilege of watching your face, watching you throw things, screaming about your stupid schoolmates, your stupid teachers, the shit you hear people still saying about you.

He notes names. He catches the plates, the glasses, the vases. He absorbs it all, a gravity field pulling everything into him, into the hungry black hole at the heart of him. Whatever you have to give, he’ll take. He’s strong enough for the both of you.

After you seem to lose steam, he pulls you into his arms. I wish I could create a world with just the two of us. He savors how you melt into him, let him get so close to you, when you don’t even seem to be aware of anyone else in the world unless they draw your attention to them by being mean to you. You’re perfect just the way you are.

It occurs to him that he doesn’t like the fact that your attention is drawn to the people who say things about you.

So he’ll fix it. For you. And for him. He wants you to pay attention only to him.

He’s so, so selfish.

Do you feel better? He’ll ask, as your breathing slows, your heart rate lowers. You nod into his big chest, and it feels so, so good.

Sometimes, he pulls you to him too quickly, before you’re done exploding. You’ve bitten him, more than once.

The first time, you bit so hard that the mark lasted for weeks. Deep red marks from your cute, sharp teeth, buried in the meat between his thumb and forefinger.

He jerked himself with that hand, multiple times, every night, until the marks faded. Each time, he couldn’t take his eyes off the proof of your teeth in his flesh.

He wants to mark you in turn.

The size of his want terrifies him.

He is a black hole, and he is hungry. And you are the only thing that can fill him.

The kids at school who made the unfortunate decision of shit-talking you, of pulling your attention away from him, find items of contraband in their lockers that they never put there. They find themselves being accused of plagiarizing on extra credit papers that they never turned in. Their boyfriends, or girlfriends, break up with them, claiming they have a crush on someone new. Someone really popular, who unexpectedly paid so much attention to them that they felt like they were the only people in the world.

Sad really, that once they had broken up with their partner, he seemed to lose complete interest in them.

He is selfish, and he is a black hole, and he is hungry.

But once people learn not to fuck with you because of his efforts, your fits of fury become less frequent.

He misses them.

He wants you to explode all over him, like you used to.

He begins to intentionally provoke you, telling himself it’s healthy for you to be challenged, pestered, to face adversity, feel all your big feelings, and then safely let them go, into his gravity well, the deep well of his want.

When he eats your ice cream, he ends up hurting you much more than he intended. Denying you as his sister, again.

He hates it. He hates that he hurts you, every time.

He has to hope that you’ll forgive him, someday. That someday, you’ll understand why.

For now, he tries to soothe you with all of your favorite ice cream. A plan he already had in mind when he ate the last of the old stuff. You let him make you feel a little better, at least. He has to hope that someday, you’ll understand why he can’t fully make it up to you yet, because he has no idea what he’ll do if you don’t.

If you were to drift away, pull away from him, spin off into the universe without him, he would explode, collapse. The mass of his emotions—fear, anger, guilt, love, want, so much want—would implode, collapse, compound into the ever hungry black hole of his soul.

He would be lost without you anchoring him.

He’s so selfish. He hates himself. He can’t stop himself.

He is no longer satisfied, with you simply coming to him when you’re upset. Hugging him when you’re scared, and overwhelmed, recharging yourself like he’s a battery pack and you’re an empty little triple A.

He wants you to come to him when you’re happy. Because you’re as drawn to him as he is to you.

He always finds a reason to be in the bathroom at the same time you are, before school, or getting ready for bed. He brushes his teeth while you shower. He watches your blurry form in the mirror, and barely resists the urge to throw open the curtain, every time. To climb in with you, clothes on, and kiss your wet mouth. Get on his knees, and see where else you’re wet.

He hates himself. He can’t stop himself.

When he does pushups, he asks for your help. Your light weight on his back does nothing for his workout, but feeling your hands on his sweat-slick skin keeps him up at night in the same way your bite marks do.

He brings you the tiger balm, feeling so transparent, so pathetically obvious, insisting you help him apply it to his back.

He stares at your face in the mirror. Your little frown of concentration. The color in your cheeks again. He can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips along his skin. He wants to pull your hands from his back, place them on his chest, his big pecs. He wants to guide your hands lower, lower, past the hair beginning at his navel, down below the band of his basketball shorts. He wants you to take your hot little hands and wrap them around his big dick, tiger balm at all, make it sting for him, as he burns under your touch.

He is so, so selfish, and he hates himself.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

He knows you’re isolated, that he’s all you’ve ever really had to fulfill any, every role for you. He knows you want him, that you watch him, that the color rises in your cheeks now when he’s close, but he’s so scared that it’s just a result of your isolation, of your dependence on him.

He’s so selfish, and he’s a coward. He’s so scared that if he acts, he’ll somehow be hurting you, exploiting you.

If you accept him, he’ll never know for sure if you love him for him or simply because he was the only one there. But you never show interest in anyone else.

He’s afraid that if you reject him, you’ll also end up hating him, and you’ll spin away from him into the dark velvet night.

He has to wait. Until you’re older, until you’ve seen more of the world. So that you’re sure you want him, after experiencing other things and people.

The idea makes him want to go supernova.

But no matter how selfish he is, he has to offer you the opportunity to know more than just him. And he needs to know your feelings for him are real. Maybe that’s a form of selfishness too, as he watches in satisfaction as your want for him, his big body, makes you pant, lean toward him as if pulled by gravity, as your brow furrows, and the yearning on your face is obvious for only him to read as your frustration grows when he doesn’t act.

It turns him on, seeing how much you want him.

It infuriates him, seeing how much people want you.

And you can feel it. He can see how your body tenses, how you begin to freeze, being the object of so many gazes.

It’s the worst at track practice, when you’re wearing those tiny as fuck running shorts. It boggles his mind, how they’re part of the standard track uniform for the girl’s team. 

His teammates, the other guys, openly gawk at your long, beautiful, naked legs. At your easy, graceful gate around the track.

He wants to use his evol to yank their eyes right out of their skulls.

Instead, he focuses on your needs first.

Jogs over you, blocks your view of their leering. 

You look up at him, your big bright eyes calming as he looks down into them. He lets his hands wander, like they always want to do. Fingering the hem of the shorts. Touching you, where no one else can. Where no one else will ever be able to.

Just because he wants to let you experience the world, does not mean the world gets to touch you. He’ll make sure of it.

You agree to put on his compression shorts.

His dick is rock hard in his own shorts, as he helps you change, as you lift your legs, one by one, as his barbell-roughened hands drift along your soft thighs, clutching the slippery material in his fingers, as he inhales the scent of your body, as you stare down into his eyes with your desire filling them like unshed tears. Tears he wants to make you cry.

You’re so fucking sweet. He loves you when you’re furious, spitting and biting. And he loves you when you’re like this, trusting him with your body, your needs, pliant and docile.

All for him. Only for him.

After, you seem calm, comfortable in your own skin again. You run so fast, your hair a flag behind you, as if you’re declaring war.

He turns to the guys who were ogling you, endures their stupid fucking jokes and sleazy comments. He bides his time. Waits until practice is over, and they’re in the boy’s locker room.

He pulls an apple from his duffle, floats it in the air.

Hey.

His voice is low, serious in a way it rarely is. It echoes through the mostly empty locker room, bouncing between the metal lockers, the tiled floor. It pulls their attention, the jarring disparity between his current tone and how he normally sounds. 

Their eyes widen as they see evidence of his evol for the first time. Everyone knows he has it. But he doesn’t use it at school. He doesn’t need it to stand out. He saves its tricks, its delights, for you, and you alone.

About the bullshit you were spouting on the track. She’s not my sister. And you don’t look at her.

They glance nervously at each other, the obvious, imperious order rankling their juvenile egos.

One of them pipes up. What’s the big deal? If she’s not your sister, why do you care who looks at her?

This asshole isn’t entitled to an answer from him. Doesn’t matter. You just don’t fucking look at her. He forces calm authority into his voice. Forces himself to smile, to wear the lower part of the mask, the part that doesn’t reach his eyes.

One of the guys, the one who always says the most disgusting shit about girls, about guys he doesn’t think are masculine enough, scoffs. What’re you gonna do to us, huh? You gonna chew my ass, like you chew your dumbass apples?

The other guys exchange nervous glances, nervous chuckles.

I’m not interested in your ass, bro. He grins. It probably looks wrong, based on their reactions. I’ll just… he begins, casually. He flicks his wrist.

The apple explodes, as if crushed by hammer—the pieces of the fruit spatter the faces and chests of the guys standing around him with wet, fleshy impacts. The pieces that would have hit him fall to the ground with heavy-sounding splats.

He smiles cheerfully into the ringing silence. We good?

The fuckhead still doesn’t seem to have quite gotten the memo. He swats the apple sticking to his face, sneers. You’re so full of shit. A golden boy like you with your entire future ahead of you wouldn’t commit murder over a piece of ass.

Caleb sighs. Leans back. Shrugs. True. Killing your dumbass outright isn’t worth being sent to prison. But you know, he says thoughtfully. He spreads his legs wide on the bench. Talks like he’s just shooting the shit, waves his hand leisurely. Accidents happen, all the time. You’re throwing a baseball, and suddenly something snaps in your shoulder. It would be a shame, if you could never throw a ball again. Or say, you’re about to cross the finish line, and you step funny, you know? And you never do walk right, after that. Or you’re playing basketball, and suddenly, poof—burst aneurysm, bleeding out, right in your brain. That shit can happen to even the healthiest of athletes. Just, bad luck, man. The human body is so fragile. As fragile as the skin of an apple.

The guys stare at him in silence. A droplet of water drips from a showerhead, splashes onto the floor. Even the biggest idiot seems to be at a loss for words. 

He smiles, smiles, smiles. 

Don’t look at her ever again, and you won’t have to worry about all that. He gets to his feet, slings his duffel over his shoulder. Puts his hands in his pockets. Whistles, as he meanders out of the locker room.

Later, he’s doing the household’s laundry. He’s lifting dirty clothes out of the combined dirty clothes basket from the bathroom, and your little slippery running shorts fall out of the handful he’s trying to stuff into the washer.

He stares at them on the floor. Slowly puts the stuff in his hand in the machine, thinking.

He’s a black hole, and he’s so fucking hungry.

He squats down, lifts the shorts. They’re tiny, in his big hands. He sits quietly, listening. You’re upstairs in his room, doing homework. Gran’s at work. He’ll hear you, if you come down. You tromp through the house like an elephant. It’s adorable.

He lifts the shorts to his face, shoves his nose in them. Inhales.

He’s squatting at your feet again, in the locked bathroom at school. He’s looking up at you, your chest rising and falling with your rapid breath. He can smell you, the intensity of your excitement at the proximity of his face to where you want him the most. As he opens his mouth, as he extends his tongue to the built-in underwear of the little slip of fabric, he imagines that he’s back in that bathroom, leaning forward, bringing the flat of his tongue between your legs. He imagines that you thread your pretty hands in his hair and pull him closer, urging his tongue deeper into you. He imagines, as he fills his mouth with as much of the fabric as he can, breathing through his nose, that you come on his face, with your soft noises of pleasure echoing through the tiled bathroom.

He comes in his pants.

He hates himself, as he pulls your shorts out of his mouth. As he places them gently into the washer. He hates himself, but he can’t stop himself. He knows he’ll do this again, and again, until he can have the real thing.

That was towards the end, of everything.

Even as he was packing his bags, he didn’t see it coming. 

He made you so many promises that he, in all of his youthful hubris, believed he could keep. About how often he’d be home. About how often he could be in touch. About how close he’d still be able to stay to you, through time and distance.

He lifted you with his evol in a field of wildflowers, watched your lovely hair float around your beautiful face, and he came so close to losing control, and kissing your soft lips.

He made you so many promises, and he broke one the first day he was gone.

Because when he arrived for basic training, they took his phone away, and didn’t give it back for six weeks. Something about fostering camaraderie with his fellow cadets. Bullshit.

It got worse from there. Basic training. Specialized training. Combat missions. Flight missions. He was either out of range, or the op required radio silence. He was determined to reach the highest ranks. To be able to best provide for you. But that required confidentiality, restricted security clearances. More and more things he couldn’t talk about. More and more important holidays and events he was forced to miss.

And then one day he came home, after having been away on a longer-than-usual undercover mission, and instead of his still, quiet girl with the serious face, who only smiled for him, who crawled all over him, and treated him like her personal servant, who blew up at him, bit him, screamed, threw shit at him, and was the sweetest little thing, soft and pliant in his arms, only for him, waiting for him, he found…

You. Wearing a mask so obvious that he could see its ribbon tied through your lovely hair.

By the time he finally made it home again, he had already lost you.

You smiled at him, and it didn’t reach your eyes. You smiled at Gran. You smiled at the checkout boy at the corner store. You smiled at random fucking strangers on the street.

You smiled, smiled, smiled.

You smiled, and it looked wrong on your lovely face. Not the smile of when you’re flying, when he would make you fly.

Something artificial, and empty. Your smile was a pot, filled with a plastic flower instead of a living rose.

You talked about your friends at school. Your sudden, numerous extra-curricular activities.

You smiled at him so politely, with such empty eyes, he wanted to flip the fucking table.

You treated him like a stranger.

No matter what he did, no matter how much he poked you, teased you, tried to corner you and interrogate you about your sudden change, you slipped away, with a false, cheerful laugh.

He wanted to crush his own eardrums, instead of hear that fucking fake laugh again.

And then he had to go back to the DAA.

He had to keep leaving you, and the visits in between became fewer, and fewer, as his training intensified, as he failed psych eval after psych eval, despite his perfect marks in everything else, his perfect mask that drew people to him like flowers to the sun.

You stop responding to his calls, his texts. 

He can’t get you to respond, but he can use his newly acquired hacking skills, his new security clearances, to keep track of you even if you won’t even say hello.

When he gets back from one particularly grueling, strange mission in the Deepspace Tunnel, he reconstructs your movements of the past few weeks based on your phone’s location, your socials. He sees that your phone spent the night at an unfamiliar address. It’s not one of your new friend’s places. You’ve never done that before. You stay at your dorm. You stay at friends’. You stay at Gran’s.

He breaks so many security regulations, civil rights laws, identifying the person who lives there.

Some random guy, who is built just like Caleb. Big, tall. Handsome, dark hair.

Caleb sits on his bunk, his hand over his mouth.

He feels like he needs to vomit.

He has never vomited after the highest g-force training required by the DAA, but he needs to vomit imagining you letting someone else touch you, exposing your most vulnerable self to him, while wearing your fucking mask.

Caleb wanted your first time to be soaked in pure, overwhelming love. To be with someone who’d watch every single fleeting expression on your beautiful face, who would kill himself to make you feel cherished, to make you feel as good as physically possible. To feel safe enough to wear your real face, the whole time, safe enough to tell him what you want, so he can give you everything you deserve.

And Caleb knows that he is the only person in the universe who could give you that, in the way that you deserve. He was built to protect you. His purpose is to love you. You are his anchor, his twin star, the only thing keeping him from exploding into blinding supernova light, collapsing into his own devouring dark. He knows you best. He knows everything about you, and he would use that knowledge to make you feel like you were flying as he made love to you.

What if that fucker hurt you? What if he made you cry? 

Caleb rushes to the toilet, vomits for the first time in years. 

While Caleb was hallucinating about the past, present, future, lifetimes that haven’t happened yet, reliving strange memories of being in a lab, observed through glass, as he was adrift in deep space during his last mission that so quickly went sideways, dying from oxygen deprivation, you were having your first one-night stand.

You fucked a guy that looked just like him.

The only thing that prevents that motherfucker from suffering a terrible, unfortunate accident, is the fact that you ghost him, after. 

Caleb knows, because he tracks every fucking thing you do, after that, every time he is within range in Skyhaven.

He forces himself to check, to look at your socials, to see who’s posing in pictures with you.  He forces himself to know, when your phone starts to spend time at random peoples’ places, almost every weekend. 

Each time, a different guy. Each time, they look like Caleb.

Each time, their lives are spared because you ghost them.

He tells himself that there’s still time, a chance, to salvage things. To make up for every single grievance you have against him. To make up for every promise he didn’t mean to break.

Your fake smile tells him that he is no longer your safe space. But he can rebuild himself for you, turn himself into what you need to feel safe, protected, cared for, cherished. He did it once, when you came home for the first time.

He just has to do it again.

You’re an adult now. You’re a Hunter now. 

He comes home on a break. You politely pour him water. He smiles at you with his mask, and you smile at him with its twin on your face. He did this to you. But he will make it right.

He’s going to tell you. This visit. Before he goes back to Skyhaven. He’s going to tell you, how much he loves you, not as a brother, but as a man, and always has. How he’s finally in a place to care for you, as an adult, without the restrictions of childhood, of societal expectations. He’s going to tell Gran about how he has never felt like you were his sister.

He almost loses his shit, when he sees the scratch on your arm, when you insist on sending him to the store instead of letting him back you up while you investigate the alert on your Hunter’s watch. So desperate to show him how much you don’t need him anymore.

He breathes deeply. Says something stupid, out of frustration, about hiding your bloodied sleeve from Gran.

You say something biting to him in return, your own mask slipping a little, as your genuine frustration, your anger at him slips through. He cherishes it, feels triumph rise in him.

Yeah, he’s gonna make things right. He’s going to tell you that he loves you, and that he’s yours, and always has been. He’ll beg, if he has to, for you to say that you are his in return.

He goes into the house first.

On a bright, sunny day, filled with determined hope for the future, Caleb Xia dies in the bright, supernova flash he always knew had been waiting for him.

[b0n3s-is-gay]

Can you write a fic where the reader loses her virginity to Darry? Thank you sm!!!

Of course, of course... I have an idea for this... :]

Favorite Cheerleader

Synopsis: Cheerleader Captian and the Football Captian, a tale as old as time. Sex in the locker room? Also a tale as old as time.

Tags: Fingering, oral sex, high school sweet hearts to college sweethearts, p in v, mutual virginity loss, protected sex (we know this man is responsible), pre book, pre accident.

Author's Note: I don't know football, can you tell?

"Push 'em back!" The cheerleaders started as the Golden Hurricane's played the Defense. "Hit 'em hard!" Darry caught the ball. "Make 'em fight!" He threw the ball to his teammate. "For every yard!"

Darry held off the other team as he watched the wide reciever, a quick runner, make a run for the TD. "Push 'em back!" The cheerleaders started again. "Hit 'em hard!" He looked over at the cheerleaders, mainly his girlfriend, the cheer captian. "Make 'em fight!" He snapped back to the game and watched his teammate keep running.

"For every yard!" The cheerleaders shouted just as the winning Touchdown was scored. "Gooo Hurricanes!"

Darry was sitting in the locker room, still reeling from everything. His teammates were all out smiling and laughing in their uniforms while he sat in the locker room. The rest of his team was probably celebrating with the cheer leaders, and to some degree... He was too. His lovely girlfriend was inbetween his legs, gently sucking his cock.

"Damn girl..." Darry smiled as he played with her hair, gently guiding her head up and down. "You sure you're ready to go all the way? I don't really wanna force you.. Plus, we've only done head before."

She looked up at Darry through hooded eyes before pulling back, coughing a bit before moving onto his lap. "I am, I won't lie..." She whispered against his skin, her voice heavy.

"Well... In that case..." Darry reached down and pushed her underwear to the side before gently rubbing along her slit. His calloused thumb finds her clit. "Wet already? Dirty girl..."

"Only for you, Darry..." She whispered as leaned over and gently kissed him while he touched her. Darry smiled softly and kissed her back, their lips moving together as he rubbed her clit and massaged her gummy walls.

Soft stiffled sighs that escaped her lips were like music to Darry, they sounded like god himself was playing music for him. "You sound so good babe... I can only imagine what you'll sound like when we actually get going..." He whispered after they pulled apart, licking his lips before moving down and starting to pepper her skin with red love bites.

"Fuck..." He hissed softly as he moved you to sit on the bench. Darry hooked her legs over his shoulders and leaned in, rubbing her clit in small circles. "I'm going to prep you... I don't want you hearting when you take my dick for the first time..." With that, Darry leaned forward and licked a stripe though her folds.

His hands gripped her thighs as he felt the shiver that rolled down her spine. The sounds of his quiet curses at her taste and her muttered prayers and praises enveloped the locker room like a heavy blanket. "Darry..." She panted as her fingers curled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to her core where she needed him most.

Darry rubbed the inside of her thighs while he licked at her clit, moaning softly at the taste. His nails dug into her thighs before releasing his grip and using his now free hand to start fingering her, loosening her cunt up.

Darry had dreamed of this day, fucked his fist in his single college room after seeing you in your cheer uniform during practice. He loved you for a bunch of other reasons, but the thought of finally getting to feel you wrapped around him for the first time was a common fantasy for him. He is a young man, he has his needs that need to be taken care of but he wasn't so much of a scum bag to pump and dump a random girl at a party. Darry loved you.

"Darry... Darry please!" Her whines roused him from his day dreams, now aware that he had already made her cum. "Pleasee!"

Darry, ever the gentleman, wiped the slick from his lips and licked it from his fingers before leaning over her body while rolling on a condom. His hand gently gripped the base of his cock and he took a deep breath. "Ready doll?" He asked quietly as he rubbed his protected tip against her slick pussy, his breath catching as his tip caught on the lisp of her cunt.

"Always..." Her voice quivered as she pulled him down and kissed him so her voice was quiet as he pushed into her. A soft sigh escaped both of them, his eyes squeezed shut as her teeth bit at her lips. Darry let out a soft groan as she gripped his shoulders, having to resist the urge to cum too soon. "Damn..." He whispered as he rested his head against her shoulder.

He had to bite her shoulders just to keep himself sane, the feeling of her walls constricting around him just made this whole thing harder. When Darry got the all clear to start moving, he started slowly, gently thrusting. Soft noises of pleasure escaped both of their lips as he pleasured them both.

"Damn.. Darry...!" She whined as her fingers tangled in his hair and brought him down for a passion filled kiss, their tongues tangling. Darry grunted softly as his hips started to move faster, chasing his high while rubbing your clit.

"Fuck.... FUC-" Darry moaned as he leaned down and pressed a rough, passionate kiss to your lips as he came in the condom, letting out whines at the feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice. "Holy fuck... Shit that feels good..." He shivered as he looked at your expression, twisted up in pleasure.

[valeisaslut]

lost in the fire - mdni (+18)

⚢ pairing: Friends with benefits!Ellie Williams x Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

ෆ synopsis: It all started off as a game. A game where both sides won, the normal friends with benefits thing. The problem is that, more often than not, what sounds perfect in words is rarely perfect in practice. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭑ word count: 7.14 k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

♱ content: angst and smut!!, dom/switch! Ellie, sub/switch! reader, fingering (r! giving and receiving), oral sex (r! receiving), pet names, mention of parties and alcohol, a real rollercoaster of emotions, got a little dense with the fire analogy, kinda really cheesy bc im a hopeless romantic and got poetical at the end, etc. MDNI!!! 𖥔 ݁ ˖

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ Hey! SO...... SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING LMAO, I was busy with college and had no imagination, BUT IM BACK! AND WITH A 7K WORDS FIC! (thank you the weeknd's song for bringing back my writing skills) This is one of my fist smutty fics and english isn't my first language, so if there's some misspelling or writing mistakes I will be happy to receive constructive criticism <3 𖥔 ݁ ˖

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ݁ ˖

Anyone who plays with fire, most of the time will end up getting burned.

And if you keep playing with fire after it burned you, only ashes will remain.

It all started off as a game. A game where both sides won, it sounded perfect. The problem is that, more often than not, what sounds perfect in words is rarely perfect in practice.

You and Ellie have been friends since high school, and from the instant your paths crossed, you became inseparable. You shared secrets, laughter and tears, and you stuck together through the hardest times of your lives.

Together you grew up, watching as the shy pre-teens you once were transformed into two confident, strong college women marked by a bond that seemed unbreakable.

You trusted her more than you trusted anyone; she knew everything about you, and you knew everything about her.

Or so you did until now....

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ݁ ˖

It all started off, literally, as a game. A night of laughter and music at a college party, surrounded by your friends, when the random fate of a “truth or dare” game traced the first thread of a destiny that neither of you could have imagined.

"_____, I dare you to kiss Ellie" Dina said with a mischievous tone after you chose “dare”, looking at you as she sipped her beer.

The question of “what would have happened” if you had chosen truth is a question that will be repeated for the rest of your life. The butterfly effect of that decision materialized in the first spark.

You remained static. You automatically turned to Ellie, who was sitting next to you. You two had never kissed before; you hadn't even considered the idea. But in her eyes there was something different, a particular sparkle, a mischievousness that completely disarmed you. On her face, a lopsided smile seemed to invite you to take that next move.

"So, _____, what you waiting for? A dare is a dare" said Dina with a smirk that mirrored the expectant gleam in everyone else's eyes, the air becoming heavy with anticipation.

"For god's sake, fine! I'll do it... but I don't want ANY jokes about it afterwards" you said, and with trembling hands, you approached Ellie slowly. You closed your eyes and felt her hand land on the back of your neck, pulling you into her and joining your lips in a kiss.

The kiss was brief, a sigh in time, but enough to release a swarm of butterflies inside you, fluttering with intensity. Her lips were soft, warm, and the scent emanating from her skin suddenly became intoxicating, enveloping you completely.

That fiery spark, which at first barely glowed, began to grow, transforming into a faint, but irrevocably unstoppable fire.

When you separated, her eyes were still fixed on yours, shining with an intensity that hid something deeper, a desire that you were both trying to conceal, a hunger that wanted more. Her freckled cheeks were tinged crimson, as so were yours, the color becoming more intense with each passing second. For a moment, the world disappeared, and only the two of you existed.

"Damn, that was intense" Jesse remarked with a surprised tone, causing the bubble that had formed around you to burst and bringing both of you back to reality. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?".

"Well, a dare is a dare, isn't it?" Ellie said, laughing a little trying to relieve the tension that had quickly formed in the air. She sit up and drank the last remains of her beer before talking again “And no, it’s not just you”.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ݁ ˖

A month had passed after the party, but since then, an undeniable tension had been born between the two of you. Every time you looked at her, the memory of the kiss came back with such a force that it even scared you.

You told yourself that it was something stupid, a simple dare, nothing important. Many friends kiss, everything stays the same and then they laugh about it. But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, that moment and the feeling that echoed loudly in your heart haunted you.

But it was impossible to deny. It was impossible to hide.

"______.... have you ever... thought about our kiss again?" Ellie whispered as you both were in your room, hanging out sitting on your bed. You were chatting about stupid things, but the minute silence fell, Ellie could no longer hide the uncertainty that tormented her.

The question took you by surprise. You assumed that you would never talk about it again and the memory would fade with time. But it seems that you weren’t the only one who was still tormented by it.

"Well... yes. I think about it a lot" you admitted, unable to hide it any longer, and looked at her nervously "Why do you even ask?"

" ‘Cause I do too" she answered, her voice more husky and full of sincerity.

Silence fell between you again, but this time it was charged with electricity, that fire burning again, but now with more intensity. After a few seconds that felt like hours, Ellie spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And would you like to..... repeat it sometime?"

You stared at her, your heart beating wildly.

"Would you like to?" you asked back, in a deeper tone. Both of your connected eyes emanated sparks around you and your bodies involuntarily moved closer and closer.

"You really wanna know?" she said, and her green eyed gaze went down to your lips, up to your eyes, and then down again to your lips. There was hunger in her gaze, pure desire. “I would like to. And I would like it a lot”.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you replied, no longer having the energy to fight the feeling. You madly wanted her to kiss you, and you couldn't hide it anymore.

Without further waiting, Ellie drew you to her in the same way as the first time, and her lips met yours again. This time the kiss was very different; more passionate, more hungry. Your mouths moved as if you wanted to devour each other, pouring that hunger in your gazes in the movement of your lips, in the way your tongues moved together.

That dim fire became a blaze that did not stop until you were both breathless. It was as if that relentless fire sought to incinerate the two of you, and leave behind nothing but ashes.

And that fire burned until it consumed the night completely, bringing everything to a point of no return. It was your first true encounter, where you shared a pleasure so immense that it seemed ripped from a dream. The outside world ceased to exist and you were the only ones left, immersed in that heat.

That night was only the beginning of something more intimate and secret. From that moment on, you both agreed that you would keep hooking up and continue your friendship as if nothing was going on. The famous “friends with benefits” as people often call it.

It was the best of both worlds, and for some brief months, it worked perfectly. Your friendship remained intact, and since you knew each other's most intimate side, it was as if a new level of trust had unlocked. At the same time, you had an amazing lover, who had shown you a pleasure that no one had ever shown you before, and you never wanted it to stop.

No one knew about what you had, it was a mutual secret that made everything more exciting, like something dark that made you complicit in something that felt even criminal. Your friends didn't suspect a thing, or at least they never dared to mention the overwhelming sexual tension between the two of you.

No commitments, no strings attached, no being exclusive, just pleasure with the person you trusted the most in the world. It was a balance that seemed impossible, but worked.

What could possibly go wrong?

.....

Everything.

Everything could go wrong. And to your misfortune, it got really fucked up from one second to another.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ݁ ˖

It was a regular Saturday, surrounded by your friends at a college party. Ellie was there as usual, since she was part of your friendgroup.

The night was going on perfectly, dancing and having fun, while the alcohol was enveloping you in a warm feeling of disinhibition. Until suddenly, you noticed that the auburn-haired had disappeared, as if she had faded away without leaving a trace. You hadn't even noticed it at first, but when you did, something inside you began to wonder if her absence had any meaning.

You said you had to go to the bathroom, assuring Dina that you could go alone, because you were actually on your way to find her. As you walked through the halls of the big house, a deep gut feeling began to seep into your thoughts, an uncomfortable feeling that clouded your mind. As you walked up the stairs, that same intuition caused you to turn your head. And what you saw froze you.

You saw Ellie holding hands with an unknown girl, guiding her with steady steps, her gaze loaded with silent promises. With a subtle smile, she whispered something in her ear, opening the door of the house before fading into the darkness. Their silhouettes got lost in the night, both with a mutual complicity and desire that spoke louder than a thousand words. There was no room for doubt, it was painfully obvious what they were about to do.

You felt an ice-cold stream mercilessly piercing your chest.

A dense, painful knot formed in your throat, squeezing so tightly that you could barely breathe, while a bitter nausea shook your foundations. Your eyes began to water, betraying your effort to maintain your composure. You stood frozen on the stairs, as if by remaining still you could convince yourself that this was not real, but a product of your imagination.

The situation was ridiculous. You were nothing serious. It was just an arrangement that sounded and worked perfectly. Passionate encounters at night, mornings full of words of complicity, a shared secret. It shouldn't hurt so much.

Your legs moved to the door, starting to walk as if they had a life of their own towards your place. Thousands of messy thoughts were making a disaster in your head, until you felt a wet droplet running down your cheek. Why were you crying? It never meant anything. You were non-exclusive, she had the right to be with whoever she pleased.

Then why did you feel as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest, thrown on the ground and then stepped on? It was all just so stupid, you felt stupid. You meant nothing to her, and she should mean nothing to you. She should....

And at that very moment, the truth hit you with a force that suddenly stopped you in your tracks.

You had fallen in love with her.

You had fallen in love with her gaze, her smile, her face, her body, her humor, her personality, her nerdy hobbies, absolutely everything about her. You had always been, but since everything became so intimate, the feeling intensified on a huge scale, but up until now, you had never been strong enough to accept it. When you saw what you never wanted to see, the weight of your own feelings crushed you.

Friends with benefits, you agreed, although only now did you realize that you weren't friends at all. Not with the way she looked at you after every kiss. Not with the way your heart raced every time she brushed your skin.

You didn't want to realize what you felt for her before, because it terrified you. You were terrified that she wouldn't feel the same and loose everything you had; but what really shattered you was seeing her with someone else, as if what you had didn't mean anything.

You were head over heels in love with her, how could you not accept that before? It was so absurdly clear, and as inevitable as death. She inhabited your days and nights, your first thought when you opened your eyes and the last murmur of your mind when you closed them. She was everywhere: in the air you breathed, in the shadows of every corner, in the beating of your heart…

The fire that once wanted to consume you both had done its job, but only with you as its victim, devouring you cruelly and slowly. It left you feeling like cold ashes on the ground, temporarily carried away by the wind.

You walked back to your place, each step heavier and more painful than the last. When you arrived, you barely managed to open the door before your legs simply gave out. You let yourself fall, your back sliding against the wall until you hit the cold floor.

Then the tears, held back until that moment, poured out uncontrollably. You covered your face with your hands, trying to muffle the sobs that escaped from your chest, unable to handle the pain that seemed to tear at your heart apart.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ݁ ˖

A week had passed since that day, and the memory still burned like an open wound. You didn't answer her texts, you didn't answer her calls. Every vibration of your phone was a reminder of how much it hurt, and it was easier to ignore it than to accept the reality.

The reality was that you had absolutely no idea what to do now. All that love you felt for her was unrequited, and now that you had accepted it, you couldn't look at her without feeling your heart shattering even more. You couldn't pretend nothing happened and be her best friend again, let alone have sex with her again. That would only feel like rubbing salt in the wound.

So ignoring her was your simplest solution, even though you knew it wouldn't work for long. She would soon realize that you were completely avoiding her, and you knew that once she got fed up, she'd take real action. She could not be indifferent, she was always direct, blunt, and would not stand still in the face of your silence. You just wanted to delay that moment as long as possible.

But it was like ignoring the elephant in the room. Like not acknowledging a storm that you knew was about to shake the foundations of your world. You didn't know exactly when. But you knew it would happen at any moment.

It was almost two in the morning and you were lying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind was a mess, as it had been all that goddamn week. You couldn't stop thinking about her, and all the words you couldn't say to her piled up in your chest like an unbearable weight.

As if you had called out to her telepathically, a knock on your door resounded like thunder. You knew it was her. No one else would come unannounced, especially at this hour.

You hesitated for a second, but your feet already carried you to the entrance of your apartment. It seemed like it was impossible for you not to answer that knock. When you opened the door, there was Ellie, her hair disheveled, her eyes dark,  her lips pressed into a thin line. She had that unmistakable thing about her, that mix of determination and vulnerability that always made your throat tighten.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she asked suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about" you replied, trying to keep your composure and lie as best as you could, but your voice cracked. You turned around and left the door open, not inviting her in. She entered your place anyway, of course, loudly closing the door behind her.

"I don't understand what did I do to you" she said, and her tone wasn't one of accusation, but of genuine confusion "I texted you like a million times and called you a hundred more. You never ignored me like this since we've known each other. Come on _____, a whole week? stop beating around the bush and tell me what the fuck is your problem"

"You want me to tell you? Fine, I'll tell you" You turned to face her, pent-up anger rising like a torrent "I saw you. At the party. Leaving with her".

Her eyebrows furrowed, but something in her realized something. For a moment you thought she was going to deny it, but instead she let out a heavy sigh.

"Why do you care so much?" she asked suddenly, but her tone wasn't cold or accusatory. There was a strong uncertainty behind it.

"Why do you care? You wouldn't understand it anyways, Ellie." you said, avoiding her and looking down at the ground. You didn't have the courage, you didn't have the strength to tell her how you felt. You had this feeling in your chest that knew you could ruin everything if you did, that you would lose everything in a second because she wouldn't reciprocate you. "It's obvious that this was just a game for you".

"Why do I care? I care a lot more than you think" she raised her tone, beginning to despair at the situation. "And it was never 'just a game' for me, but I thought we agreed that we weren't exclusive".

"Believe me, i fucking know about that arrangement." you spat, your anger completely overtaking you, your tone rising to the same pitch as hers. "Do you even care about me at all?".

"What do you mean I don't care about you?" Her voice broke and she looked at you confusedly before she continued "I thought you were ok with-".

"I was!" you shouted, interrupting her before she could finish the sentence, unable to hold back the anger running through your veins "But that was before I saw how you were going to hook up with her!".

"She didn’t mean anything!" she replied again, her tone much higher now, impatience flooding her voice and expression "Now answer me, why do you care so much?!"

It was if the ground had been ripped out from under your feet, leaving you suspended in a void that squeezed your chest. The pain inside you was so strong that your words shot out before you could even think of them, running over each other, overflowing like a force you could no longer restrain.

And you screamed it out, your voice cracking under the pressure of a truth that had consumed you in silence until you could no longer hold it in the shadows.

"Because I fell in love with you! Is that answer enough for you?! I'm so in love with you that it's fucking killing me!"

You stood still, unable to believe that your heart acted faster than your brain, and still unable to believe what you had just confessed. You felt the weight on your chest lighten, but it became an even bigger one, the weight of rejection.

The silence that followed was deafening. Ellie’'s eyes grew wide. She just watched you, as if trying to understand something she hadn't expected to hear.

"You.... love me?" she whispered, almost as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing, letting the words slip out carefully, as if they were so fragile they might break.

"For a long time...but after seeing you with her, I realized it was much deeper than I thought...." you said, your eyes still on the ground, a knot forming in your throat, and the fear that your now watery eyes would betray you. The fear that rejection was all that would be left was eating you from the inside out. ".... And I know you don't feel the same way, so if you want to end it all here, I'll accept it."

Ellie closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to gather strength. When she opened them, something changed in her gaze.

"You really think I don't feel the same?" she said, her voice shaking but charged with something that made you stop breathing. She took a step toward you, cupping your face with both hands to lift your face, her touch warm and familiar, but different now, as if she was breaking down an invisible wall.

There was urgency in her eyes, a trace of something that made the rest of the world fade away, the distance between you shrinking until it disappeared. You slowly looked up to meet her bright green eyes, filled with a light you had never seen before.

"I got scared" she went on, her voice barely a whisper "What I feel for you is so.... big, i didn't know how to handle it. I thought being with someone else would help me forget it, but it didn't work. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't be away from you, even if it scares me"

You stood there transfixed, caught in those dark eyes that now burned as intensely as a fire. And then, before you could even process it, her lips found yours. The kiss was anything but tender; it was an explosion of pent-up emotions, of frustration and desire, of all the words that had never been spoken. It was burning with that same fire, now burning brighter than it ever did before.

"I hate you so much" you murmured against her lips, though you both knew that was a lie.

She smiled slightly, her fingers tracing a path from your waist to your lower back.

"Liar." she whispered, her voice hoarse.

She pushed you gently against the wall, her body pressed against yours, and everything else faded away. The world stopped spinning outside that moment, outside of her hands exploring your skin as if trying to memorize it, her lips seeking yours with an urgency that made you shudder.

Her lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trail of fire that made you arch your back. Your hands sank into her hair, tugging lightly and drawing a sigh from her that made you shiver.

"Ellie... " you whispered her name as if it was a prayer, as if it could somehow explain everything you felt. She lifted her head to look at you, her breathing as erratic as yours.

"I don't want this to be just words" she murmured, her voice trembling but steady at the same time. Her breath brushed against your skin and something inside you snapped again, but this time it was not pain. It was pure desire.

"Then make them more" you replied without thinking, looking at her with an urgency you didn't know you felt until now.

And that was all it took. In one fluid movement, she carried you to the room, opening the door and entering the place dimly lit by the hanging lights that adorned the ceiling. Upon reaching the corner of the bed, she gently pushed you against the mattress and pounced on you like a hungry woman.

Her body was so close to yours that you could feel the heat emanating from it. Her lips found yours again, but this time, there was no hesitation, only need. It was a kiss that demanded everything, that made you forget the days of silence, the insecurities, and all the pain.

Her hands slowly moved down your arms, leaving a burning trail in their wake, until they reached your waist. You stood up slightly as if you didn't want there to be even a space between you. The softness of her lips were different from the strength of her grip, and that contrast made you lose yourself completely.

"You have no idea how much I missed you" she murmured against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you shudder. Her voice was deep, laden with something you had never heard before.

"And you have no idea how much it hurt to see you with her" you answered, almost breathless, but your words had no accusation, only honesty.

She stopped for a second, resting her forehead against yours, and with that gaze, she transmitted something that made you feel both vulnerable and safe.

"I never wanted to hurt you. You are the only thing I want. You are the only person I want to be with." she murmured against your lips, and that confession was enough to undo any barrier that remained between you.

The distance between your bodies disappeared completely. Her hands explored your skin with a mixture of tenderness and desperation, as if she tried to memorize every inch of you. Each touch was a reminder of what you had been denying for so long.

Her lips sucked and her teeth sank into the delicate skin from your neck all the way to your collarbone. As she pulled back slightly to admire her handiwork, she felt a savage satisfaction knowing that you would be wearing those marks for the next five to seven business days, at least.

Ellie lets out a soft gasp, pulling her shirt from her back with one hand and tossing it somewhere behind her. You let out a sigh at the sight of her bare torso, and your hands went straight to tug on her hair, pulling her closer to you.

Your eyes watch her as she pushes up the hem of your shirt, letting out a deep breath as she finally manages to discard the garment, murmuring a curse. You were wearing only a huge nightshirt that reached mid-thigh, leaving you without any other clothing.

"You’re perfect" she says in a husky, lustful tone as her dilated pupils land on your breasts, and you can see in the corner of your eye how she licks her lips. Your hands go to her sweats, and as you pull them down, you can hear her kick off her shoes and help you take them off, kicking them back the moment they hit the floor.

The air in the room thickened with an intoxicating warmth as each kiss and gentle caress talked the unspoken words that had lingered between you for far too long. The soft brush of skin against skin ignited a searing heat that enveloped you both, almost overwhelming.

The intimacy deepened as your whispered breath carried her name. She met your gaze with a tender smile, then leaned in closer, her lips finding yours again with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine. It was a kiss filled with urgency, as if she wanted to make sure you understood that this wasn't just another moment for her.

You broke away from the kiss, and you feel her smooth fingers against your lips. Your mouth opens as easily as she remembers, and she has to swallow another thick moan as you suck her fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them to taste her intoxicating skin, and the sensation runs through her like an electric current.

“God... fuck…” she murmurs lightly in a moan, pulling her fingers out of your mouth as she adjusts you so you’re straddling one of her thighs, your own thigh pressing between her legs to rub deliciously against her sensitive, aching pussy.

She hisses lightly as your hips roll down her leg, your head lolling back. Picking up a slow rhythm, you grind against her, your wetness spreading along her skin as you let out moans every time you rock your hips back and forth.

Ellie’s mind begins to become a blur at the sight of you, your nipples hard from the cool air of the room. She leans down and opens her mouth slowly to close it on your nipple, teasing her teeth over the sensitive flesh, and smirking at the way it makes the rhythm of your hips falter. Your fingers pull harder at her hair and you let out an almost pornographic moan, her other hand sliding up to knead your other breast. She can't help the little jerks of her own hips against your thigh as well, her underwear now soaked.

"Els- Els..." you gasp her name, and the sound goes straight to her pussy like an electric current.

"Tell me... tell me what you want..." She moans as you move and your thigh presses harder against her, her mouth half open.

"Your fingers...please....." You whisper in her ear haltingly, and she feels like she could have a heart attack at any moment. Something in her brain chemistry changes every time she's next to you, and she swears that the effect you have on her should be studied by scientists.

"Shit… you're gonna be the death of me” she murmurs after swallowing heavily, adjusting herself back as you lift your hips. She pauses when she feels you grab the elastic of her boxers. A small laugh escapes her chest at your anxious gaze and your shaky hands.

"Out." you say, almost petulantly, as Ellie moves her own hips so that she can slide her legs, kicking them to the side.

"Happy now? "

"Yeah, much better" you smile, sinking back into her thigh, as your arms wrapping around her shoulders. She moves her right hand to your soaked part, teasing two fingers around your entrance.

Her eyes lock onto yours, a silent plea for your permission, and you nod eagerly, anticipation going through you like electricity. She pushes a finger past your soaked folds and immediately feels you enveloping her, the pressure making her own cunt clench. Ellie hisses, moving her hips against your leg.

“God, just like that…” you gasp, raising your hips to lower them again, your nails digging into the skin of her back.

“Want more?” She asks, as you go up and down a couple more times. You nod, just as fervently as the first time, if not more so. 

“Atta girl” She whispers low as she sinks another finger into you and rejoices in the way you moan, how loud and strong it sounds coming from the back of your throat. Your eyes roll back as you begin to ride her fingers, your hair falling messily around your shoulders. She reaches up her free hand to take a handful of it in her palm, pulling it back to give her more access to your neck and leaning forward to suck another dark hickey over the skin where your pulse is.

Ellie’s head spins, going delirious with desire as she pushes a third finger into you, watching as your mouth opens in a silent moan and your entire body shudders around her. You’re so wet, so tight, that the building arousal between her legs is beginning to reach a climax, as she moves shamelessly against your thigh still between her legs.

The scene seems straight out of a movie, those kids aren’t allowed to watch. Your mind can't formulate a single coherent thought. All that exists now is Ellie: her fingers, her scent, her ecstatic face, her half-open mouth, and the enormous satisfaction that consumes you. The air in the room is thick and dense, almost as if it could be cut with a knife.

You both feel like you always do when you are in these moments; as if you are the only two people that exist in the world. No one and nothing else matters; nothing else makes sense except the immeasurable pleasure that threatens to tear you apart with the intensity of a natural disaster.

That same fire that always existed now burns with the power of a forest fire that sought to destroy everything in its path, including the two of you in that destruction.

And you swear this is what heaven must feel like.

"God fuck! Yes! Ellie!" you scream, nothing else matters anymore. You move up and down so hard and fast that Ellie has to take a second to admire how strong your legs are. She thanks the gods for having someone like you in that instant, before her thoughts become tangled in a sizzling mess when you slide your hand into the space between her legs and yours, your fingers pressing messily between her folds.

"Can I? I wanna make you feel good too… "

Ellie nearly has that heart attack she thought of earlier, nodding fervently and spreading her legs to give you more access, feeling you slide two fingers inside her without warning.

“______! Shit! " she curses your name as you curl your fingers up and stars blur her vision. She moans as you pump your fingers into the knot of nerves inside her, her own fingers soaked as you fuck yourself on them.

It’s all becoming too much, and before she knows it, the tension in her lower stomach snaps like a thread. Her core throbs around your fingers as her orgasm shakes through her, white bursts of pleasure flashing through her eyes.

“Mm - Holy shit _____....,” she gulps, blinking as your silhouette comes back into focus in her vision, the buzzing inside her head still echoes from the aftermath of her orgasm. She vaguely notices you smiling at her for a second before you lean into her to give her a sweet kiss.

Ellie moans into the kiss, her breathing evens slightly as you pull your fingers out. When you pull back to slide them into your mouth, she feels like she’s going to cum again just from watching that. You look up at her with blown pupils and heavy eyelids, your tongue sliding around your fingers, tasting the taste of her climax, intense and unmistakable. A taste you could never get tired of; a taste that screams “Ellie”.

“Jesus…Christ....” Ellie gasps, and somewhere in her head, there’s a small voice screaming “holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit, how did I get so lucky?” over and over again until it becomes the impulse that makes her lean up, pushing you down and letting your back fall onto the bed with a smug, indulgent smile.

“Mmm... come closer, beautiful.” She makes her way down your body, trailing kisses down your chest and pausing to circle her tongue around your nipples only for you to arch closer to her. She drops a few lingering kisses down the line of your stomach, before blowing a little air over your throbbing clit, her fingers parting the folds of your soaked centre.

She swallows dryly, moaning to herself, as you feel your body jerk and tremble at the feel of her hot breath on your most sensitive part, impatient and eager from so much arousal.

“You've got the prettiest fucking pussy” she murmurs as you let out a soft whimper, your fingers sinking into her hair. "I’ve been dreamin' bout this for weeks"

She looks up at you and marvels at the sight of your body, naked above the mess of sheets, as beautiful as a work of art. A work of art meant for her eyes only.

She squirms with desire and finally drops her mouth to you, licking a long stripe along your entrance, her eyes nearly rolling back at the taste of you soaking her tongue.

“A-ah! Ellie!” you cry out as your head falls completely back, making a thud sound against the pillow. Your fingers pull her hair even tighter, and your thighs clench at the sides of her face. You both swear this is the hottest moment you’ve ever experienced.

Not long after that, she gives a few hard sucks on your clit, pushes three fingers inside you and just like that you’re falling apart beneath her. Your thighs shake as you moan, shudder and gasp through your orgasm.

If you felt like you were in heaven before, now you were experiencing the presence of God himself. The knot in your lower stomach unties and breaks in a crash that shatters you, leaving you breathless, white flashing through your eyes and a broken, desperate cry escapes from your mouth.

Ellie talks you through it, pulling away from your centre to press a kiss to your shoulder, your breaths beginning to even out and your vision finally coming into focus.

“Hey there, princess,” he smiles.

You’re still breathless, but you pull her down for another long kiss, tracing her jaw with your thumb.

“Wow..... just.... wow" you murmured, breaking away from the kiss and looking at her with a flushed face.

Ellie laughs, throwing herself like a dead weight next to you, staring at the ceiling, getting a little lost in tought. The warmth of your old hanging lights illuminate everything with a soft, diffuse glow. She feels you turn to look at her, your cheek resting on your arm. She turns to mirror your position, reaching out a hand to caress your cheek. After a few minutes of silence, she finally speaks.

"Maybe it'll sound kinda rushed but I.... love you. I love you, _____ " she whispers, her voice like a caress that slides gently through the air before her lips kiss your forehead, an action that seems to stop time. You feel like your insides melting, as if every part of you finds refuge in that moment.

"I don't wanna hide what I feel anymore" she continues, with that same tenderness capable of breaking all your barriers. "From now on, I want everything between us to be sincere, only truth."

Your arms wrap around her chest, trying to bring her closer, until there is no space between you. Curve by curve, skin on skin, her warmth envelops you, and an indescribable tenderness blossoms between the two of you. In her embrace, you feel like you found your place in the world, a corner where everything makes sense.

"I love you too, Ellie... more than you could ever imagine" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, sweet and full of contained emotion.

The silence that now falls is not awkward, but a silence in which both of you take the chance to admire each other. For eternal minutes her eyes trace every detail of your face, and yours do the same, as if she wanted to memorize every line, every shadow. A smile, shy and full of love, curves on her lips, reflected by yours. In that moment, everything is perfect, there are no more masks or fears, only the love you found in each other.

"So... does that mean we are... dating now?" you murmured, the doubt evident in your words, although your heart screamed the answer you wanted to hear. You needed her to say it, you needed her to confirm it.

Ellie stared at you. And she continued to stare at you with that green eyed gaze of hers that makes you forget how to breathe. The pause was brief, but it felt endless. She suddenly let herself fall back with an over-the-top groan that could only belong in a cheesy soap opera.

"Are you for real right now?" she exclaimed, bringing a hand to her chest in an offended manner. "Are you really hitting me with the “what are we” question after all that drama?! I showed up at your place, we fought, made up, I bared my soul and told you that I love you, we had a movie-worthy confession, i mean, we even fucke- "

"ELLIE WILLIAMS! I get it!” you yelled, crawling forward to push her before she could finish that dangerous sentence. You managed to quickly get her to lie down completely while you positioned yourself over her, your hands holding her wrists. You were blushing up to your ears in embarrassment, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little at her drama.

Ellie arched an eyebrow, an “Are you seriously doing this to me?” expression etched on her face, even as you tried to hold on to your dignity.

“It’s just that…”

“It’s just that… what?” she asked with a hint of amusement, through her eyes sparkled with tenderness.

“It’s just that neither of us have asked it properly…and-”

“Shhh…” She cut you off gently, as if she had completely forgotten her moment of theatrics, and with a certainty that made you nervous.

You froze. Your hands instinctively let go of her wrists as she sat up, making you fall onto her lap with almost insulting ease. Her hands settled on your waist, holding you tenderly. Her eyes met yours, and a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.

"______, love of my life, light of my eyes, owner of my heart" she began to speak with an slightly mocking and sarcastic tone, but after a few seconds of suspense, she said what you had longed to hear for so long.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

And the question floated in the air like a feather. Her warm and now not at all mocking tone made your heart explode. You felt the air completely leave your lungs, because in her gaze there was nothing but sincere love. A smile spread across your lips, so pure and sweet that Ellie narrowed her eyes as if it was too bright to handle.

"I swear that smile of yours is gonna give me cavities..."

But you didn't give her time to say anything else. You leaned towards her, capturing her lips in a kiss that answered her question more than all the words in the world. When you finally broke the kiss, gasping softly against her lips, your hands tangled in her hair.

“Yes, yes… I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Ellie held you tightly, whispering in your ear, her voice so soft it almost knocked you over.

“You know, I never thought I’d find something so beautiful in this world,

but then you came along.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ݁ ˖

In that instant, as you both smiled with wild, imperfect love, both hearts beating in unison, something was revealed deep within you.

It doesn't matter that the fire burned you completely.

The ashes will always be worth it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ݁ ˖

DAMN THAT WAS INTENSE! sorry for the end lmao i got a lil Shakespeare complex

Hope yall enjoyed and I'm SUPER grateful for every repost, like or share you wanna give!!! :D

(sorry again if there's any spelling or writing mistakes)

[leilakisakabiri]

Jealousy, Jealousy (Gavi)

Summary: You realize that Gavi never gets jealous when other guys are around you and it makes you question if he still likes you. 

Warning(s): None

A/N: Hey! I had some inspiration to write so here I am! I’m trying to release shorter fics while I work on my longer ones. Requests are open!

Word Count: 2.5k+

Masterlist

The first time it happened, you felt relieved that Gavi had decided not to make a scene and instead chose to calmly defuse the situation.

The two of you had been at a club late one night, the high from Barcelona winning hours before pumping through your veins. He had his arms wrapped around you as you both danced to whatever Spanish song the DJ was mixing.

You laughed as he spun you around before pulling you closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he moved a strand of hair out of your face. 

"I'm going to grab another drink. Want to come?"

His breath was hot against your ear, and even though it felt like a million degrees in the club, and you were sweating through your dress, you still shivered, his voice sending shockwaves through your system no matter how many times you heard it.

You looked up, locking eyes, "I'm good, I'll save our spot."

He kissed the top of your head before letting go, "Ok I'll be back in a second. Try and find the others if you can."

You gave him an awkward thumbs up as he walked away and he chuckled before disappearing into the crowd.

The two of you had been dating for just shy of three weeks.

You had been friends for months before dating, with you initially being introduced to him through his hometown friends. Then there was a three-month period where you both liked each other but were too scared to admit it and ruin the friendship. Finally, Gavi caved after spending two weeks away from you without contact while he playing in the U.S.

Since he admitted his feelings for you that night on the steps of your shitty college house, he had jumped straight into the relationship, inviting you to his games, to hang out with his friends, and private dinners. You on the other hand still felt like an awkward pre-teen girl every time you were with him, he just made you feel giddy inside, and you reacted to things he said so intensely that the only way to cover it up was with strange humor and stupid jokes.

That led you to now. Sometimes being around him was so overwhelming because you were always scared you would say something to embarrass yourself, and although he never made you feel any less worthy you couldn't help but feel like he could be with someone much better than you.

As you stood there contemplating, you felt a body collide with yours, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts.

You stumbled, feeling hands come up to grip your elbows, stabilizing you.

"Shit- my bad."

You looked up seeing the guy holding you sporting a white button-down and an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, those guys just pushed me. Some friends." He said referring to the group of five or so extremely drunk boys behind you.

You shook your head, "No worries, I wasn't paying attention either."

He smiled, leaning a bit closer, hands still on your elbows, "Hey do I know you? You look really familiar.”

You squinted your eyes as you gazed at him, trying to figure out if you knew him.

"Eh I go to Universitat de Barcelona if that helps."

His eyes lit up at your words, and he nodded, "Yeah, that's totally how I know you. I think you're in my biology class."

You groaned, "No way the one at 8 a.m.?", he nodded, "I'm barely awake for that lecture." you muttered.

"Mean either but it's hard not to notice you."

You only heard half his sentence and looked at him confused, "Sorry what?"

His lips tugged up in a smile as he bent down, shifting closer to you, "I said it's hard not to notice you."

You felt your breath stop as you realized what you had gotten yourself into. You made a move to shy away when you heard Gavi call your name.

You lifted your head seeing him approaching as he carried your drink, "Hey who's this?"

You went to interject and tell him it was no one but the guy next to you interrupted, "Hey man, I got to school with her.”

Gavi nodded, accepting his answer as he handed you your drink, "Oh class friend?"

You went to speak but were again cut off by the guy next to you, who had still to let go of your elbow.

"Something like that."

You saw Gavi's posture slightly straighten at his words but he relaxed a second later, "Alright."

The guy turned to you saying something about seeing you in class and then proceeded to give you a hug, his arms wrapping around your lower back.

You noticed Gavi watching the exchange but he made no comment.

You approached him timidly, unsure of if he was going to say anything about the situation, but he paid it no mind, going back to casual conversation with you.

At the time you let out a breath, thankful that he seemed intent on letting you handle your own situation.

That thankfulness soon turned to annoyance and then confusion when similar situations happened time and time again and he made no effort to speak up.

You supposed it was good he never got jealous because you knew it could get very overbearing very fast, and yet, you couldn't help the twinge of defeat you felt every time someone tried to make a move on you and he did nothing to stop them or even show a ounce of emotion.

Slowly it was making you start to question your relationship with Gavi.

Why did he not get jealous? Was it because he didn't see others as a threat? Or didn't feel the need to because you weren't as pretty as the other girls he was seen with? Maybe he simply didn't care? Or perhaps he wasn't the type?

You knew the last one couldn't possibly be true because he was absolutely the type. His entire career was based on his passion, determination, and aggression to get where he wanted. His aggression is what made him so competitive and a loyal player. So if he was so driven and passionate on the field, why was that not carrying over into your relationship?

It wasn't until almost two months later that things came to a boiling point.

It was the last game of the pre-season for Barcelona and spirits were high, everyone hoping they could seal off a great season, and enter a new one, with a win.

The stadium was filled to the brim with fans and reporters. The family section was also full with player's partners and families coming to support them in the final game of the summer.

You were sitting next to Anna, the two of you talking about school, work, and life.

Eventually, the game started and you went into full-on fan mode - cheering along when Barca made impressive plays and booing when they were tackled.

The stadium was abuzz with energy, and you basked in everyone's excitement.

You gripped Anna's hand as you saw Gavi running up the sidelines towards the other team's defense, Joao running parallel to him.

You saw him sidestep, dodging the defender, and suddenly the ball was soaring, perfectly landing at Joao's feet as he placed it into the back of the net.

The two of you jumped up, cheering along with the rest of the crowd. It seemed like Barcelona would have its victory after all.

After the game, you stayed in the family section for a while chatting with Pedri's parents as you waited for the players to make a re-emerge.

You bid goodbye to them when you got a text from Gavi telling you to come down.

You made your way down to the field, waiting behind the barricades for him to appear.

The other team's players appeared first, signing fans t-shirts and taking photos.

"Need something signed?"

You saw a player from the other team approach you, waving a sharpie in his hand.

You pointed at your jersey playfully, "No thanks. I'm a Barca girl if you couldn't tell."

He grinned, "Ahh c'mon what will it take for me to convince you?"

You shrugged your shoulders, "Ride or die sorry."

He clutched his hand to his heart in mock offense, "Ouch. I'm hurt, but I'm not giving up."

You gave him a smile, remaining polite, as you looked over his shoulder for Gavi.

"Oh I know!" he exclaimed, directing your attention back to him.

He wiggled his eyebrows before taking off his shirt, "Here, new jersey for you."

He held it out to you, and you gave him an unimpressed look.

He rolled his eyes playfully, "Alright fine. I'll sign it, but only cause you asked so nicely."

You watched amused as he signed the jersey before offering it to you.

You squinted your eyes at him.

He dangled the jersey in his hands, "C'mon take it. You know a lot of people would pay good money for this."

You reached out to grab it, "Fine, but only because I'm going to sell it later."

He held up his hands in surrender, "It's yours now. Do whatever."

You thought the conversation would end there but he made no effort to leave, "Who are you here with anyway? Someone in Barca?"

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off.

"Me."

You whipped your head to see that Gavi had silently approached the two of you.

Besides yourself, you felt a tiny part of you waiting with bated breath for him to do something, to finally dig his boots in the ground and say something, but he remained impassive.

"Hey."

"Hey, you ready to go?" Gavi asked.

You nodded your head, unsure of how to leave the situation.

"I can lift you over the barricade if you need." The other player spoke up, and your eyes immediately flitted over to Gavi's to gauge his reaction.

His eyebrows furrowed but he didn't say anything.

You debated for a second, just to get Gavi to react, but quickly decided against it, opting to just walk around the barricade.

You approached the two of them quickly and with a hasty goodbye followed Gavi as he left the pitch. You heard the other player shout a 'see you around', and you waved in response.

You broke the silence first as you walked the empty tunnel, "Great game baby. You did amazing."

"Thanks."

His reply was clipped.

He went to hold your hand and you shifted the jersey last second to your other hand, catching his attention.

"What's that?"

"Oh, that guy gave me his jersey. I'm going to sell it." You explained, telling him how you were expecting to make hundreds.

He listened along till you finished.

"Can I see the jersey?"

You nodded handing it to him.

You swung your joint hands as you walked, talking to him about the game as he examined the jersey.

Abruptly he dropped your hand, mouth set in a firm line.

Your eyebrows stitched together, "What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat before handing you the jersey.

"I think there's something for you on it."

"I forgot something in the locker room, I'll be right back." He continued.

You looked down confused, eyes scanning the text before it clicked.

The jersey had the player's phone number on it.

You lifted your head seeing him already walking away, "Gavi wait. Can you stop for a minute?"

He turned around but continued moving, "Yeah what?"

"Stop moving!” You exclaimed, your frustration building as he continued to not express any interest in the situation.

He finally halted and you closed the distance between the two of you.

"Is there something wrong with me? Do you not like me anymore or something?"

He seemed taken aback by your words and several emotions flitted across his face, "What are you talking about?"

You took a breath, it was now or never.

"I'm not trying to sound conceited, but I'm pretty sure that guy was hitting on me-"

"He was." Gavi confirmed.

You continued, "So then why don't you care? I'm your girlfriend, so why aren't you getting jealous when other guys hit on me?"

"You want me to get jealous?" He asked incredulously.

"I mean I don't want you to become super overprotective or anything, but it would be nice if you at least acknowledged when someone is trying to get with me right in front of you. I know I would get jealous if someone was saying that to you."

"You don't think I get jealous?" His voice had a hard edge to it, and suddenly you felt like you might have read between the lines wrong.

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure, "I mean you don't show it."

"Of course I'm going to notice when some guy is eye fucking my girl one foot away from me, I'm not fucking blind."

"Then why don't you say anything?" You pressed.

“Shit y/n that's cause I don't want to scare you away!"

His admission only confused you further, and you lowered your voice acutely aware that your shouts were probably carrying far in the quiet tunnel,

"Scare me away? Why would that scare me?"

He shook his head, "The press is always making me out to be this bad guy. This kid that doesn't know how to get his temper in check and - mierda y/n - I don't want to get into this right now."

You relented, unwilling to give in, biting the bullet, "Alright so next time someone asks to lift me up, their just being friendly right? Trying to be helpful?"

His eyes blazed, "That's not what I meant and you know it."

You lifted your hands in frustration, "No Gavi actually I don't know that. You act like you don't even care."

"I care! Trust me y/n I care!" He argued.

"Then show me."

His lips were on yours before you had even finished processing what you were saying. His skin felt hot against yours as his fingers sank into your hipbone, crowding you against the wall.

You lost your train of thought as you got lost in the sensation he provided you. One hand went to tangle in his hair, as the other draped around his neck bringing him impossibly closer.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, as he kissed you senseless. You finally pulled away for a breath but he didn't stop, moving to lay a trail of kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear, down your neck, and onto your collarbone.

You left out a soft moan underneath him, the feeling causing tingles in your spine, and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"We should really sto- fuck gavi - so-someone could walk in any moment." You reminded him.

"Just gotta leave a mark." He replied.

You nodded before his words caught up to you and you pushed him off, "What? No marks! I have to meet your parents tonight." You whined.

He grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic, "At least people will know you're mine now."

[burningembers91]

Crawl to Me - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature On Display A Game of Cat and Mouse Crime of Passion Rare Gunpowder and Lace Like a Dog Three Little Words The Baby Shower

Warning: This fic will deal with conversations about pregnancy

Synopsis: You can tell the Salesman is hiding something from you, and you know just how to make him spill his secrets. When he finally tells you what's on his mind, it changes the course of your relationship

A/N: I don't know who I become when I write about this man... I just become absolutely feral

He was on his knees for you, the wooden floorboards of your bedroom digging into the cartilage of his kneecaps. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, the silk blindfold covering his eyes and blocking his view of the clock on your bedside table. Every inch of his body ached, an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain. His leaking cock stood to attention, his shaft twitching as he listened to you walk leisurely across the floor. 

You were teasing him, taking him to the very precipice of insanity and he loved it. Every so often, your fingers would trail gently across the skin of shoulders as you walked by, the gentle caress eliciting a wanton moan from his lips. He craved your touch, needed it more than oxygen, and he was grateful for anything you gave him. 

“Tell me you want me,” you whispered, crouching down so you were level his with his ear. Your breath tickled the sensitive skin of his neck, every hair standing on end as he moaned. 

“I want you,” he growled, his throbbing cock almost painful as he silently begged for you touch him. 

“Tell me you need me,” you breathed, your hand entwining roughly in his hair as you pulled his head back. 

“I need you,” he pleaded, his voice uncharacteristically whiny. “Oh god, please. I need you.” 

You’d been at this for hours, teasing him, coaxing him to the brink of orgasm before snatching his pleasure away in your beautifully manicured hands. His body was crying out for release, his pre-cum coating his shaft as he sat crouched on the floor like an obedient mutt. You could see he was desperate, could tell by the way he whimpered for you that he needed a release. But you could also tell he was hiding something from you; you were able to read your man like a book. Ever since the baby shower he’d been so needy, yet so withdrawn. He’d cling to you, his tall, muscular frame draped across yours, but he couldn’t never tell you what was on his mind. He constantly wanted to fuck you, wanted to bury himself inside you and would beg you to let him cum. He seemed almost grateful when you said yes, his moans guttural as he painted your insides. You’d always let him cum inside you, had enjoyed the way he claimed you with his very essence, but at the moment, finishing inside of you was almost like a kink to him. 

You watched his body shudder with desire, his abs twitching with the force of staying upright for so long. Perching on the edge of the bed, you watched him, savouring the breathy little whimpers he emitted. 

“Crawl to me,” you finally instructed, when you were confident you’d punished him enough. He obeyed your order, his hands outstretched as he blindly searched for you. When he finally reached you, when his fingers brushed the soft skin of your calves, his lips peppered desperate kisses up your legs, praising you as he made his way up your body. 

“Take off the blindfold,” you whispered, wanting to see the desire in his eyes. Pulling the silk fabric from his face, he moaned at the sight before him. You lay reclined on the bed, your legs spread, arousal dripping from your core. 

“Lick it up,” you told him, smiling slyly as he obeyed. His tongue worked feverishly against you, moaning into your slick folds as he lapped up your wetness. You rewarded him with your moans, your breathy gasps like music to his ears. When you came for him, the noise was heavenly, your moans so loud and unabashed as you held his head against your center, thrusting your hips against his tongue. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” You asked him, watching his cock tremble with need. He was still on his knees for you, his head nodding so furiously his hair flopped in front of his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Tell me what you’ve been hiding from me,” you whispered sweetly, “and I’ll let you fuck me.”

He froze to the spot, looking up at you from his position on the floor. You knew him so well, could read him like a book and he’d been a fool to think he could ever hide something from you. Had he been saner, he might have resisted more, but you had the unwavering ability to drive him to the brink of insanity. 

“I want you to have my baby,” he pleaded, groaning as the words left him, a weight lifted from his shoulder. 

You sat there in silence, staring down at him. You knew he had very little patience for anyone but you, you understood his incapacity to feel anything for anyone but you. You wondered how much he’d thought this over, whether he thought he’d be capable of loving the tiny life you’d create. It was like he could read your mind, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he begged you to let him get you pregnant. 

“Please, I want this so badly. I want a family with you, I want a baby with you. I know I would love them, because they’d be part of you.”

You’d always wanted a family, but you’d put the idea to the back of your mind when you fell for your sadistic salesman. And yet here he was, on his knees, begging you for a baby. In one single moment, all of your dreams came true. 

“Ok,” you smiled, “let’s have a baby.”

The way he fucked you was almost feral, his strong arms pinning you against the mattress as he thrust into you. Tears pricked at his eyes as he came, his cock remaining buried in your tight walls long after he’d finished, desperate to make sure you’d taken every last drop of him. 

That night you talked through how a family would look, how the addition of a baby would change your life. He’d already picked out the room he wanted to convert into a nursery, had already been secretly looking at cribs once you’d fallen asleep. Any doubt you had about him loving your baby vanished as soon as he showed you the plans he’d been making, the research he’d done into the best diapers, buggies and changing tables. 

Yes, your grey suited salesman was unpredictable and wild. But you knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you and the life you were going to create.

[buddierecs]

post season 7 buddie fics

in honour of season 8 coming out in a few days, here is a list of mature rated fics that have been released over the hiatus set post season 7. make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

stay here honey (i don't wanna share) by: prettybegins "amidst his son leaving for texas, a sexuality crisis in his 30s, and the possibility of losing his best friend, eddie can’t seem to catch a break." word count: 14k important tags: idiots in love, jealous!eddie diaz, coming out, getting together, minor buck/tommy, miscommunication, meddling, angst, love confessions, first kiss all these broken parts by: woodchoc_magnum "post-season 7, where eddie is struggling with depression, trying to put his life back together, and hopelessly in love with his best friend." word count: 56k important tags: TW: depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, angst, roommates, pining!eddie diaz, oblivious!evan buckley, evan buckley take care of eddie diaz, minor buck/tommy, getting together, eventual smut eddie diaz vs the buck's boyfriend agenda by: songbvrd "eddie starts gathering information about why no one trusts tommy. as he grows to hate their relationship more, he learns more about himself and what he wants." word count: 23k important tags: pre-relationship, jealous!eddie diaz, tommy kinard bashing, pining, gay!eddie diaz, team as family, therapy world war e(ddie's moustache) by: songbvrd "eddie is a little unhinged since christopher left. when buck gets yelled at for having facial hair, eddie makes a spectacle out of his own." word count: 19k important tags: unhinged!eddie diaz, jealous!eddie diaz, pre-relationship, tommy kinard bashing, mutual pining, emotional cheating, team as family thoughts and dreams that scatter, you pull them all together by: trageddie "chimney has a dream about eddie with a mustache. shenanigans ensue." word count: 11k important tags: mutual pining, jealous!evan buckley, minor buck/tommy, eddie diaz & chimney han friendship, getting together, food kink the christopher diaz reddit takeover by: dylaesthetics "christopher takes out his frustrations with buck and eddie on reddit." word count: 7.5k important tags: social media, christopher diaz is a national treasure, getting together, feelings realisation, tommy kinard bashing, chris never left la like a bird stealing bread out from under your nose by: daisies_and_briars "eddie diaz breakdown, season 7 finale fix it fic" word count: 21k important tags: eddie diaz needs therapy, angst, character study, getting together, hurt eventual comfort, buddie divorce 2.0 i'm holding on (barely) by: cranberrymoons "eddie and buck take christopher home to california; helena and ramon decide to follow" word count: 12k important tags: parenthood, complicated relationships, therapy, coming out, reconciliation, family dynamics, internalised homophobia, self-acceptance, gay!eddie diaz loves a game, wanna play? by: 42hrb "in the aftermath of chris leaving for the summer, buck convinces eddie they should apply for love island together." word count: 57k important tags: reality tv au, love island au, idiots in love, social media, getting together, flirting, making out, pining

i choose you and me, religiously by: instantcaramel "buck has a boyfriend but he can't stop thinking about his best friend." word count: 4.3k important tags: infidelity, texting, buck/tommy break up

[starryficsfinishwen]

── .✦ doomsday game ; xiangli yao x reader

if the world was ending, would you love me for the hell of it? syn. if, theoretically, the world were to end today, what would you do? if you ask xiangli yao, he wouldn't mind spending the last days on earth with you.

*inspired by 4* zayne card with the same name (love and deepspace)

a.n. - oh god he corrupts me I love him. HAPPY RELEASE DAY XIANGLI YAO!!! As an honor for getting his weap, for now being guaranteed (my S1 Xiangli Yao is glacio and short??), I GIVE THIS FIC AS MY THANK YOU. ALSOHAHSHSHSHS I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE WRONG FIC IM SORRY BUT HERE IT IS

pairing - xiangli yao x f!rover

words - will edit when I switch to lappy

content warnings - none!! major fluff!! also pre-established relationship

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Potent rumors often plant seeds of disbelief.

It often came as a small white lie, an utterance between two consenting parties. When it reaches the leeching tongue of the birds, they fall to the ground, sprouting things that are weeds to the truth. If left alone, they would deter nature's course.

For example, the rumors somewhat turned into some prophecy— “the world is ending soon”.

How does it end? They say it's a global snowstorm. Maybe another global flood. A supernova collision. No, they definitely said it was an onslaught of active volcanoes erupting to create a flood of lava. Or maybe, some Sentinel wished for immense havoc, with its god-like power awakening to slaughter everything in its path.

However, for scientists like Xiangli Yao, all those claims seem comical.

“The world is ending soon?” A fellow scientist slaps his own knee, “That's complete bull!”

In the middle of the long table of the Academy, what was once a flickering 3D map of Jinzhou was temporarily dimmed; instead, a couple of scientists had gathered, playing cards for their breaktime.

“I know, right? It's too funny; they really think the world is ending so soon.”

One of them throws the card, a chorus of laughter.

“My findings say otherwise,” said a cocky researcher, “The fluctuations isn't very severe. We can live to see another millennia here in our world!”

“The plants and people are still alive and well.” The glimmer of a card catches everyone else's attention, “Very far from the truth indeed.”

One scientist lets out an indignant huff, “But how did they even reach that conclusion? Do they have the data?”

The group pauses for a bit. Some bit their lip, another shuffled their cards, and the other couldn't help but sigh. “Um, proof or not, I think they are still sprouting nonsense.” Muttered the first scientist.

Another eerie silence envelops them. Until one of them throws a card at the center. “The tacet marks have been spreading nonstop...”

They throw another. “TD's are also unstable, giving a major interference to the once-natural resonance cords.”

And when he throws the last trump card, almost all of the players had a grim look on their face. “We are merely just a few months recovering from the Retroact Rain. Our soldiers cannot handle another catastrophe!!”

With a trembling shout from the scientist, everyone else near the group stopped on their tracks. Noticing that the attention was on him, the poor scientist slides back to his chair, embarrassed. Even the ones he was playing with had a gloomy face.

“...Not to diminish our pride but...who knows...what happens to Jinzhou...not to mention our Sentinel and Magistrate...”

“That's understandable. The evidences speak for themselves.”

All eyes are on the man who spoke after a long while. Between the dim lights of the Academy's hall and his slow steps, his versicolored eyes glimmers brightly than ever.

“I understand your concerns, Ray,” Xiangli Yao reaches out to pat the forlorn scientist by his shoulder, “We are merely at the recovery stage for Jinzhou, yet our nation has been going through too many things already.”

Amethyst eyes wander among the resonance cords on the screen. They catch a familiar face of a person, one that made his own heart skip a beat.

“However, Jinzhou still stands until today. We cannot say the exact date for the end of the world—it could be today, tomorrow, or another millennium—but as long as we are still here to see the flowers blooming or the children laughing, then why should we stop today?”

A roar of cheers erupts throughout the hall. The lamenting scientist sniffles in joy. Yet the Principal Investigator couldn't look away from the certain figure of a girl.

“But if the world were to end soon,” muttered a nearby scientist, causing Xiangli Yao to glance at him, “Hmm...I wonder where I'll go.”

Without a clear future in mind, and you, the Rover, who only woke up just now—the thought is scary. If, indeed, the world was ending soon, then what happens next? What happens to you?

The cats have been meowing nonstop.

As if sensing the air, they were pawing at your ankles, as if trying to catch your attention. One, two, three- maybe even five- cats trying to catch your attention.

Picking the white one, who was the one visibly stressed, you coo her as you scratched the back of her ear.

“What's wrong, hm?” You playfully kissed the cat's cheek, “Was the food not enough for you? If I overfeed you, Mr. Investigator will have to put you on another diet.”

Somehow understanding you, the cat gently pushes you off of their face with their paws, meowing.

“Hey, I'm telling the truth! As much as it hurts my poor heart, I can't feed you again today...”

“...I suppose you can allow them,” pipped a familiar voice, “They do look awfully thin.”

Nearly spilling the cat off of your arms, you squeak as you turn to meet a smiling Xiangli Yao. “M-Mr. Investigator?!”

“It's the first time you've addressed me by my title, Ms. Rover,” He teases, opting to carry the black cat on your feet, “I suppose our relationship is back to being professional?”

“The cats seem to know you more like that,” you emphasized, “Mr. Principal Investigator.”

He laughs—a tender laugh, it makes your heart squeeze—that it makes you pout. “I suppose that is right. Consider it a working place, then.”

Xiangli Yao stands next to you, holding out the black cat as it meows. With a funny thought, you ask, “Did you even know why they approached you in the first place?”

“Is it because I feed them?”

“No,” You playfully stuck out your tongue at him, “They say it's because it's to ward off bad spirits.”

Xiangli Yao goes silent, before looking at the cat, then back to you. “Hmm. I suppose I should stay away from you?”

Ultimately backfired. The joke goes back to you. With a dramatic gasp, you shrug. “Seeing as the cats was the one who approached me today, I think it's you who should go away for now.”

Freely laughing onto the summer air, the cats' meows intertwine with the yours. It's like any other workday— Xiangli Yao leaves mid-afternoon from work to meet and feed the cats, walking elsewhere until he's comfortable enough to go and finish his work.

It's only been a few weeks since a new addition to his itinerary: you. Now, every afternoon, the cats would find themselves carried by the warm sunlight; and you, taking care of them before him, drenched in sunset glow.

Like now, Xiangli Yao notes. But the thoughts were far too tempting. He takes a dive in them.

“So, Mr. Investigator,” you asked as you found yourselves by the stalls, nudging him softly, “where to next?”

The cats slowly left as soon as your walks stretched farther than usual. You were too nice to disturb Xiangli Yao, when he was far too absorbed in his thoughts.

“...Ah,” He purses his lips, slowly stopping in his steps, “I'm sorry, Rover. I hadn't realized we've gone this far.”

The streets decorated with the loud and bursting stalls sound in the background. Yet in the midst of it all, Xiangli Yao is silent as ever, his robotic hand over his lips, eyebrows furrowed. You think it's cute, from the curve of his pout, but you quickly shake it off.

“No worries at all. But you look like you have a lot on your mind, maybe you want to share them?”

Xiangli Yao looks at you. Behind you, the sun in Jinzhou has never set—bathing you in its reverberating halo, casting an ethereal glow. With his heart skipping a beat, he looks away with a sigh.

“...[Y/N],” every syllable of your name sounds too foreign for him, yet too holy, “Would you...like to come and stay with me for now?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Where do you want to go, Xiangli?”

His face remains serious as he speaks. “My house.”

“...I'm sorry?”

Going to Xiangli Yao's house was something you've never expected.

Sure, you often get invitations to visit your friends' houses once in a while. But it seems different when someone like Xiangli Yao asks you to go home with me.

Wait. With a mental slap, you scold yourself. Why do you feel different when it's with Xiangli Yao? Was there something about him? Watching unfocused amethyst eyes seems to make you worry. You were definitely not feeling something, right?

Unless?

“Is there anything else you'd like?” Xiangli Yao pops up from his kitchen, carrying a plate full of snacks in one arm and drinks in another, “I'm sorry, these are some of the food I could make.”

“It's okay, I'm more than happy to already taste what you make!” You said as you rush to help him.

But as you are about to take the plates, you couldn't help but gasp.

“Oh, does my hand scare you?”

Instead of the usual robotic hand you've grown accustomed to, it had morphed into a larger metal plate, to fit the two plates.

“No!” You shake your head with a laugh, “It's just the first time I've seen it like this. Does it change back?”

By the time the plates are on the table, Xiangli Yao twists his robotic hand (plate?), popping it out of the socket. “It does. Let me get it.”

“Do you...” Watching him scurry, you pick up a chip from the plate, “...need a hand?”

A resounding clang! echoes back to you. It takes a while before he returns to the room, rolling his hand as he grins. “I believe it's back in its proper place.”

Still the same stupid jokes that make you cackle. Eventually, you both settle down. The afternoon telenovela plays on the TV. Finally settled to sit on the ground instead of the chair, you end up picking the savory chips, munching as you devotedly watch the scenes in front of you. You don't even bat an eye even as you feel Xiangli Yao sits next to you. Silence. But a good kind.

How long have you known Xiangli Yao again? Whatever you both do, you're still content with each other's company. From the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze firmly on the TV, empty hands hair's breadth away.

“The Moonlit Fair,” you said slowly after a comfortable silence, “now that it's over, are you back to your usual work?”

He hums. “Depends how you define "usual work".”

“Metalwork and other groundbreaking discoveries.”

You bring your knees close to your face, resting your head so you could comfortably turn to see Xiangli Yao's face. Chromatic colors paint the neutral look on his face. Yet when he turns, a pretty smile replaces it.

“The field of science is only a curiosity away,” he pipes, mimicking your pose, “That's always something I've been doing, even before the start of the Moonlit Fair.”

This goody-two-shoes prodigy has always been the talk of the town. Even in Huaxu Academy, even from Mortefi's mouth, he is long lauded as someone who easily creates breakthroughs.

“I'm jealous.” You admit, sighing, “You can easily create new things.”

“That's not true.”

“Ah, I guess I can say with pride that I often help people, too.”

“However you may say it, it doesn't erase the fact that you are doing so much more than you think.” He said, “You're the mysterious Rover. You have lost memories related to this city. And from what I've heard, you hold so much history.”

He reaches out, human hand hesitating to touch your face. With a fleeting downcast gaze, he ends up booping your cheek. It makes you flinch from surprise.

“...I should be the one jealous of you, if that's the case, [Y/N].” His smile causes his eyes to close, a genuine look on his face, “You've done many incredible things that are worthy rather than simple praises.”

Did Xiangli Yao ever look this pretty before? Soft skin and amethyst irises through fluttering lashes. You wish you could brush away the hair that covers his eyes. Carefree, kissable lips. Wait—you cough, looking awau to hide the blush tinting your cheeks.

“Please, stop flattering me. I might end up bursting a hole in your roof.”

“I'll be sure to let Xiang-LEE and Patty fix that.”

A ticklish giggle escapes your lips as you turn back to see him. “Please leave my kids alone, you have overworked them during the festival.”

“...Please don't worry,” he shrugs, chuckling, “They'll be granted a paid vacation anyways.”

Seeing as the telenovela has lost its charm, and the poor food in front of you could go to waste, and maybe not wanting to end the fun yet, you decide to test your waters.

“Xiangli,” you said, noticing how he perked his head at the mention of his name, “I want to play a game.”

“An electronic one again?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Truth or Dare.”

Xiangli Yao laughs. “Oh, I didn't know you were into childish games like that.”

“I'm curious about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way.” You point out, “What's a better way than to play a game?”

“You could have asked and I wouldn't mind answering, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sit up straight, grinning, “Truth or Dare?”

Xiangli Yao mirrors you. “Already?”

“Pick already, or I might change my mind.”

“Hmm...Dare.”

Suppose your afternoon would be so different. A few chugs of the drinks, greedy hoarding of chips, spent markers, and random doodles later, you find yourself dressed in one of his lab coats with a clip of some of his IDs, and him in the flashiest shirt. The laughter has long strained your lips but it still ends up being the sweetest you've ever tasted. Apart from that, the glow in Xiangli Yao's face is also different, one that makes your heart skip faster.

“You've what?”

Xiangli Yao laughs a little too loudly. “A mini mouse that would greet anyone who opens the door. Mortefi was the first victim, because I didn't know he was deathly afraid of mice.”

The mental image of Mortefi from Xiangli Yao's prank comes abruptly that it causes you to match the latter's laughter—hollering until your back finds the sofa, slapping the carpet.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, “It's not even a surprise why he hates you even more!”

Xiangli Yao wipes a tear from his eye, sparkly eyeshadow slightly staining his cheeks, “I bought him some coffee to apologize, but the joke hadn't died down for weeks.”

He finds himself sitting closely with you now, head against the sofa. With a little of your mingling laughter in the air, he couldn't help but watch as your fits of laughter continued, albeit a little softer. Through your literal rose-colored lenses, did you see the world like that, too?

“It's my turn now, right?” You ask, your shoulders an aftershock from your laughter.

“Mm,” he nods, “Have you run out already?”

“No, never!”

“Alright, since I've been picking dares for a while. I'll go with truth.”

“Have you ever heard of the rumors?” You begin, laughter dying down, as you take a bite from the chip. “That the world is "ending soon"?”

Xiangli Yao freezes. So you've heard. It's no surprise as it already made a turmoil between the scientists in Huaxu Academy. Yet the dread somehow comes creeping back to him.

“If, theoretically, the world were to end today,” you slowly speak, carefully choosing the words, “In a few hours or so. What would you do?”

What would he do? A tricky question. But a calid one at that. “The end of the world wouldn't happen so abruptly.”

“Mm, yeah, but I am curious about your answer.”

What would Xiangli Yao do? And somehow, the dimming living room feels so small, the only light source was a forgotten TV color palette. When he looks at you, your doe eyes sparkle in the darkness. The closeness of your bodies, the fleeting smell of spring on your shoulder, with a hint of him.

“Well...” He slides down to the floor, patting the space beside him, “I'll let you know if you lay here with me.”

“Are you sure there are no pranks here?”

“I'm honest.”

You eventually follow his words, so you could meet the level of his eyes. Watching the glow of his inspiration-filled eyes, they somehow make you smile.

“I heard all about it when my colleagues were playing a game during break time.” Xiangli Yao begins, “Some claim it's not true, but there have been others who believe it's so soon.”

“What do you think?”

He looks away, opting to stare at the ceiling above. You follow his sight, unaware of what was next.

“I don't know.” He says truthfully, robotic hand pointing upward, “With everything that has happened, no one else can predict it.”

“Even a knowledgeable scientist like you?”

He glances at you. “Even a knowledgeable scientist like me.”

He looks back to where his hand points. Casting a power, a small purple cube dances in his robotic hand, knowing that you were watching so intently.

“But if the world were to end today, then I wouldn't mind spending the day with the cats I feed.”

The cube glows brightly, floating so freely in his hand. A flash of scenes play through its squares, too fast to see, yet too slow to be noticed.

“I wouldn't mind having the TV on, sitting on the floor with snacks all over, even though there's a perfectly good sofa.”

He hears your small laugh, which makes him smile. The cube falls to his chest, where it travels all the way to you.

“I wouldn't mind spending the last hours playing Truth or Dare, with someone who's extraordinary.”

This time, Xiangli Yao looks at you. Wide-eyed and speechless, from the way the cube touches your outstretched hand, watching the faint glow of the halo on your own body. If the world were to end, he wouldn't get tired of watching this view; watching the rise and fall of your chest as you stare in awe, calloused hands tenderly watching over his own work of art, knowing that there'll never be another you if the world were to end.

Knowing that he's long been blessed to exist in the world where you are in it.

“I think I wouldn't mind spending the last hours on Solaris-3 with you, [Y/N].”

The cube pops, a sprinkle of glitter all over your body. Glancing, your heart throbs loudly in your chest, as you heard his confession.

How did this happen again? You were merely friends with the scientist. After the successful Moonlit Fair, you often find yourself bumping into him, simple errands and impromptu hang outs when you do. Watching Xiangli Yao in his humble abode, the telenovela a white noise, and the shade of colors lighting his face—have you ever seen him more than a friend?

“Xiangli Yao,” you breathe, which made him freeze, “you...”

He smiles. “I'm not rushing to know your answer. I am merely stating the facts.”

A good friend. But now you figured out why that rubs you off the wrong way. You have always known the answer to your feelings.

“[Y/N],” Even the way Xiangli Yao speaks your name, a softer one, where in the world they called you "Rover", he calls you differently.

“[Y/N],” Reaching out, his human hand finds a strand of your hair, gently pulling it to his lips. “[Y/N],”

Xiangli Yao calls your name, one that makes you throb.

“If, theoretically,” he repeats the question you asked before, “the world does end today, what will you do?”

In a world where your memories are lost in the ripples of time and reverberation. You had the same answer.

“...I wouldn't mind spending it with a certain scientist.” You smile, watching him mirror yours, “I wouldn't mind spending it with you, Xiangli Yao.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Xiangli,” you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he closes his eyes to snuggle to the warmth, “Xiangli, you're like the cats.”

“Then will you ever mind if I could hold on to you?”

Weary arms find themselves asking for yours. And like you, touch-starved for his own touch, lean onto him, the smell of spring and that you could forget the world.

“...I would,” you said, and you do mean it, “I'll hold onto you, Xiangli.”

Oh god pls let me have him irl too

don't forget to like, comment, share, and reblog!!

— starry