#as in by day 2 they were much more comfortable

[mggslover]

Reflections pt. 2

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her.

PART 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst x hurt/comfort Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers since i’m not on that season yet, can contain inaccuracies), reader cuts longer hair short, guns, reader isn’t the best person, emotional, vague mentions of sa and suicide, kidnapping, fade to black smut (so suggestive content) Word count: 5,8k A/n: turning a supposed to be one shot into a series is more difficult than i anticipated lol. i’m hoping you guys will enjoy this part as much as the first one :) i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Vibrant flashes of the pixelated scenes on TV reflected against the motel room walls. You were reminded of how your mother always used to say that watching television in the dark is damaging to your eyes. You never doubted her. Never felt the need to confirm her words by looking it up. It’s in human nature to trust one another. It is only when someone betrays you — or when you betray them — that trust gets damaged.  You sit on the edge of the bed, mindlessly picking at the loose printing of the Caltech shirt you’re wearing — Spencer’s Caltech shirt — as you watch the umpteenth news segment since you left the state. “Authorities are still on the lookout for a suspect following the poisoning of three men. The men were murdered at a college reunion that took place inside a bar, their bodies found just a street away. These promising young men had bright futures ahead of them, which were brutally robbed by this suspect–“

The screen flickered to your passport picture, showing a list of your physical descriptions on the right. 

“She’s believed to be armed and dangerous. Please, come forward if you have any information on her possible whereabouts. The FBI have stated that they will not stop their search until they have the suspect in custody. Justice will be served.”

With a scoff, you grab the remote, the screen fading to black with a simple click of your thumb. 

Young promising men, my ass. Hearing that sentence out loud left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, burning your throat as you swallowed. You let out a deep exhale, your body falling back onto the hard mattress with a thud, allowing the darkness to envelop you as your thoughts swirled through your head. 

Your whole life you had run away from the things that scared you, preferring to flee than live with the reality of the situation. You’d made the conscious decision to change your behaviour once you had decided to walk into that bar. But one thing led to another, and without being aware of it at the moment, you’d found yourself in the same situation: fleeing. Only this time around, it was different. This time you were on the run. And it wasn’t a question of if, but of when you’d be caught.

Ignoring the remorseless pounding in your head, you roll over the mattress. The cheap sheets rustled underneath you in protest as you threw your legs off the side. Your hand patted the bedside table until you felt the switch on the night lamp, turning it on. The room, as a result, illuminates in a soft, golden glow. 

Your eyes adjusted to the light, slowly taking in your surroundings. You noticed a large bookshelf against the right wall that you swore you hadn't seen before. Although your mind had been so clouded these past days that it wouldn’t be strange if you looked over it. Curiosity got the better of you, and with steady steps, you walked toward it. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. The words played in your head as your fingers grazed against the dusty spines. When the melody came to its natural halt, you grabbed the book that your finger had landed on.

Gone Girl.

You scoffed a breathy laugh, “Obviously.” You held the book mockingly in the air, giving an ironic nod and tight-lipped smile toward the ceiling. “Thanks, universe.”

The irony hit you as you flipped through the pages. Maybe you’re more like the protagonist—Amy Dune—than you’d like to admit. Always having the need to orchestrate the outcome of your life, selfish enough to not care about the consequences it has for others. What if the universe is not trying to mock you, but merely giving you a hint? Were you supposed to change your appearance? It worked for Amy. 

Your feet carried you to the stuffy bathroom, the book still in hand. With your elbow, you turned on the light switch, cringing when you saw yourself in the mirror. The only sleep you’d gotten in the past days was in Spencer’s arms, and damn was it a good sleep. 

Sleeping with an FBI-agent sounded like a good plan. Well… at least to you. What are the chances of being a suspect in a crime, not being believed by anyone, and then being interrogated by a man who had heart eyes for you? There was no other option than to play into it, and you thanked yourself for taking those theater classes in high school. 

However, it wasn’t all a ploy. It affected you to have someone be so gentle with you, to have an absolute stranger care so much for your well-being. And when you kissed him… you knew your heart was involved too.

Still, your brain overpowered your feelings. The second you woke up, you knew you had to leave. They already knew about Natalie, and the more time you gave them, the more dirt they’d find on you. Taking that gun? Call it a precaution. Hijacking a car to get to the motel? Well, you stole it from a hobo. Could’ve been worse. 

“God,” you groaned, thinking back on the events of the past few days. You rubbed your eyes and dramatically slid your hands down your face.

Your eyes landed on the nail clipper placed on the sink. This is so, so bad. You placed the book down, then picked the item up, circling the cool metal around your fingers. The ghost of your face reflected back at you in the mirror. Oh, your hairdresser will kill you. But who will care if you’ll be locked away in prison, anyway? At least your humor was still working.

You brought the clipper to the ends of your hair, your thumb pressing down as you cut a lock. The sound sent shivers to your spine, a sour face impaled on you. 

“I swear to god Amy, don’t fail me with this,” you mumbled to the sky in a prayer. 

-`♡´-

3 Days Ago

Being frustrated was an understatement for the way Spencer was feeling. 

Once he left the bedroom, it took him less than a second to notice the slight gap between the cupboard doors. His pulse quickened, he stood frozen for a moment as he felt a tight knot form in his stomach. In a sudden rush, his senses came back to him. He took a leap toward the cupboard, slamming the doors open, and to his suspicion, he found the safe unlocked. His gun vanished in the same way as you had. 

He couldn’t help the string of curses that escaped his lips. His hands reached through his hair, tugging at the loose curls as his mind raced in every possible direction, none of them making sense. 

How could he have been so stupid? He’s a profiler, for Christ’ sake. It’s his job to read people, to see through their lies. His cheeks heated in embarrassment, recalling the disapproving looks of his team members when he told you that he believed in your innocence. 

You were innocent. At least, that’s what he thought. Now he wasn’t sure anymore. An innocent person wouldn’t run, and they especially wouldn’t steal the gun of a federal agent while they’re at it. 

He thought back on your arrest. It happened quickly. The team had received a call from someone at the reunion who had been taking a smoke break in an alley near the bar, the first to discover the bodies. Finding you was simple. Your behavior was suspicious on the camera footage. You looked nervous as you walked into the bar, wiping your clammy hands on your dress, scanning the room as if in search of something. When your eyes landed on the three men, your gaze grew cold. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots when you rushed out of the emergency exit right after the men had accepted their poison-filled drinks. 

But now it was a completely different story. You could be anywhere. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He felt responsible for this, even though it wasn’t his decision to let you go. He’d been insistent on getting you out of that interrogation room as fast as he could. The guilt pressed down on him, the pressure on his ribcage accumulating with every second that passed. Every second that he didn’t do anything was another chance for you to run. Spencer had no choice but to call Hotch as he stepped into his Volvo. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know what you were capable of. 

-

Spencer made sure to evade Derek’s sharp glances as he walked through the bullpen, headed straight for the small flight of stairs. 

Hotch was standing at the door frame, waiting on him. He never had experienced being scolded by his parents, but this sure seemed like a similar situation. Spencer swallowed, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, trying to hide his nerves as he braced himself for the words that were about to follow.

“I’ve informed the rest of the team,” Hotch explained, his eyebrows edged in an irritated frown. “The only reason that you’re on this case is because you could give personal insight into the unsub. We’ll discuss this afterward,” he added in a warning tone, “Behaviour like this is not tolerated.”

“I know,” Spencer muttered, his voice coming out hoarse. I don’t agree, but I understand. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. His body leaned forward, head tilted as he called the team to gather around the round table. 

-

“Man, you slept with her?!” 

Derek hadn’t even properly sat down before the criticizing jabs slipped out. The tone was instantly set, an awkward tension lingering thick in the air.

Spencer’s mouth opened, his fingers flexing, but before he could respond, Emily rose from her seat. “It’s in the past. Right now, we should focus on finding her before she’ll devolve.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. This discussion was pointless; there was no time to lose. “Garcia, can you go over her documents again?”

“Of course, sir. Uh, let’s see–,” her purple colored nails tapped against the keyboard of her laptop. “She hasn’t been very active in the last few years. Most activity was during college. She majored in chemistry.”

Spencer’s heart did a jump at the mention of chemistry. He barely got the chance to ask you about yourself, and he was fighting the urge to ask Penelope for more information, wondering what else you’d have in common. 

“Wait a minute,” Spencer wondered out loud when his brain made the connection. “Chemistry.”

“The victims were poisoned,” Rossi noted, connecting the dots.

Spencer suppressed the rising nausea by forcing his eyes shut. His knee tremored, anxiously tapping against the underside of the table. He really didn’t know you, did he?

Hotch’s furrow deepened. “Another confirmation that she’s the one we’re looking for.” He turned to Garcia, “Did we receive the results from the lab?”

“Not yet, sir. But this is interesting though,” her nails continued their rhythmic clicking. “She dropped out of college a couple of months before graduating.”

“You wouldn’t just do that,” Rossi mused. “Can you find any reasoning in her archives?” 

Penelope shook her head. “Not really. The whole thing seemed pretty sudden. She had good grades.”

Hotch leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Let’s look at victimology.” 

“Okay, so we got Shaun Dallas, Eric Zimmer and Nathan Johns. Tight buddies throughout college and they still seemed to be according to social media. Different majors, none of them chemistry.”

“She seemed disgusted when I brought them up,” Derek added, referencing your interrogation. “Said that nobody in college liked them.”

“Well, they seem like the standard gross jock types,” Penelope commented. 

“Does she have any history with them?” Emily asked.

“Uh, not that I can see,” Garcia replied. “I don’t even think they shared any classes.”

“What about them personally? Anything you can tie to her wanting them dead?”

“Let’s see, boy wonder…” Garcia mumbled in response to Spencer, eyes focused on the screen. “Here! I got something.” 

Everyone stared at her in anticipation. “Nathan Johns was involved in a Peeping Tom “incident” when he was fifteen. He had a habit of peeping underneath the bathroom stalls in highschool, and one girl decided to press charges with her parents. Claims were quickly shut down though, because, obviously, his father is a lawyer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What about the other two?”

“Zilch. Squeaky clean records.”

“Let’s leave that for later,” Rossi suggested. “We have more to say about her MO.”

“She poisoned her victims,” JJ chimed in. “That makes sense with her chemistry background. She’s also shown that she’s meticulous and pays attention to detail.” She continued elaborating, “She managed to poison the drinks without the bartender noticing and she made sure to keep an eye on Spencer as he typed in the code to his safe.”

The team nodded like-mindedly. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t have much of a say in all of this. He didn’t even know why he still tried to make sense of it all. Whether he genuinely believed in your innocence or if this was an attempt at finding a theory that would sooth his mind.

“She’s rather chaotic, actually,” he eventually spoke up. “She snapped during the interview when Natalie Fisher got mentioned. She took my gun while I was in the room next to her. To be more specific, she—“ he cleared his throat, “I woke up and she walked back to me before heading out. It doesn’t match the MO of the killings.”

“What are you suggesting, kid?” Rossi asked, confusion visible on his face.

“She doesn't have to be the unsub.” 

“Oh, come on, man. Then how do you explain the dumping of the bodies?” Morgan inquired, his tone laced with accusement. “She went from meticulous to dropping the bodies in the middle of an alley where anyone could pass by. She’s shown dramatic changes in MO before.”

“The bodies could have been placed there to set her up. The unsub must have known she’s disorganized, so positioning the bodies there could be connected to her. If the unsub is as diligent as we’re assuming, he could’ve easily disposed of the bodies in a place where we wouldn’t be able to find them. Instead, he dropped them right in the face of any passersby.”  

“Spence, I thought we’ve been over this,” JJ said, offering a sympathetic smile, her hand sliding over the table to reach out for him.

Spencer quickly pulled his hand back, seeing the obvious hurt on his friend’s face. Yes, they had been over this. He was positive that he would snap if he had to go through another “Are you sure you’re ready to be back? The change from prison to society is a huge change” conversation. 

“Did she share anything else that makes you think this way?”

Spencer blinked at Hotch's question. The moment was still fresh in his mind. He remembered how nervous he felt when he had asked you to take you to his place. He had replayed the hypothetical conversation in his mind a thousand times, how he would first open up about his past, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up about yours. But when you kissed him the way you did, there was no space for any other thoughts in his mind.

“Reid,” Hotch repeated.

“No.”

“No?” 

“She said that she likes the sea,” he shared, the corner of his lip slightly lifting at the memory. 

“I feel safe in your arms,” you whispered, your breath tickling his chest as you lay your head on top of it. His arm was wrapped around you, tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, wondering if you could feel his pounding heartbeat. 

“The only other place I’ve felt this safe is at sea.”

He smiled as he gazed down at you. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Really?”

He felt the movement of you nodding. “It’s the only place that calms my mind.”

The sound of ruffling paper snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to see Rossi unrolling a large map of the country. 

Spencer could feel the prying eyes on him. Geography of the unsub is his strength. He inhaled a deep breath before leaving his chair, reluctantly walking toward the wall where Rossi had pinned the map.

“She told you that she didn’t have a place to stay,” Prentiss stated, her words sounding like a question for affirmation.

Spencer nodded, trying to focus on the case like it was any other. “She walked to the reunion, probably taken by cab, and then we found her walking around the area when we arrested her. So, she has no vehicle.”

“For all we know, she could’ve taken the first plane out of the country,” Morgan interjected.

Hotch clicked his tongue. “We alerted Border Patrol when Reid had called me, which was less than an hour after she had left his house. If we assume she’s chaotic, she wouldn’t be able to book a flight that quickly. The only place you can disappear this smoothly has to be a place in her comfort zone.”

“Can we assume she’s still in Virginia?” Rossi asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer replied. “Her picture is all over the state, and Virginia’s beaches are very populated, with a minimum of in the hundred thousands. Virginia Beach, for example, has a population of 453.649.”

“She doesn’t have a car,” Rossi thought aloud. “There are no records of her having a stable job, so she doesn’t have a lot of money in her pockets either. Knowing cab drivers, they won’t want to drive around for hours, which leads us to—“

“Delaware,” Spencer finished. 

-`♡´-

A sea breeze gently caressed your face, blowing through your cut hair. With your eyes closed, you cherished the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the scent of saltwater in the air. It was a nostalgic smell that came with a flood of memories: building sandcastles on the beach, running barefoot across the hot sand before diving into the sea, loud laughter as you splashed the water and got splashed in return. 

The flashbacks were a stark contrast to your current predicament. When you opened your eyes, it was dark. The sea in front of you looked black, only reflecting a small glimmer of the moon that hung low in the sky. The sand beneath your fingers felt cold. And there were no sounds of laughter, not even the sound of annoying seagulls. You were surrounded in absolute silence.  A crunching noise came out of the darkness. The sound so sudden and intense, similar to being whipped across the face. Though, your head didn’t turn. You knew who was out there. 

The sounds grew louder. Sweat started forming on your face and hands. Your fingers trembled as you reached into the pocket of your jeans, the tight fabric cutting into your hand as you pushed deeper until you felt the cool metal of Spencer’s gun.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the air. Your grip on the gun tightened in an effort to keep your fingers from shaking. No words left your mouth as you carefully tilted your head. 

In front of you stood Spencer, exactly as you had predicted. But unlike your predictions, he was on his own. Was he here by himself to personally arrest you? To revel in your loss?

You continued to stare at him, though you weren’t really seeing him. Your vision blurred by the tears that had welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on his gun, which he held tightly in between both hands, aimed straight at your skull. 

“Is that a new one?” 

He seemed taken aback by your question, glacing down to the firearm in his palms. When he looked back at you, you stood in front of him, mirroring his stance, gun directed at his chest.

“I like this one better,” you commented, clicking the safety off.

Spencer cocked his head, maintaining his unwavering eye contact. He seemed to be challenging you. You clenched your jaw, anger boiling hotter inside of you. 

“Put the gun away,” he strictly ordered, though his tone remained unnervingly calm. It was too calm for your liking. He should be scared. At least show a sign of nerves. Instead he looked at you like you were a joke, like you weren’t capable.

“You’re not going to use it anyway,” he dismissively adds, fueling your anger.

“Yes, I will!” 

Your voice taunted as you took a step forward. Your legs trembled at the move, your heart thudded painfully in your chest to the point of nausea. It was difficult to comprehend the next words he spoke, your ears ringing before you even fired the shot.

“You didn’t kill those people,” Spencer declared. The words sounded like he was repeating a scientific fact. Like it was the only possible truth.

He then called out your name.

The word rolled off his tongue like it was crafted just for him to say it. Akin to a gentle symphony. His pronunciation was just as soft and full with longing as it had been when he breathily whispered it into your ear over and over again.

“I would’ve!” you shouted out, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. You strode forward until the barrel of your gun pressed into his chest, jabbing the cold metal into his clothed skin. 

He didn’t flinch. Instead of his breathing hastening, it slowed down. His eyebrows drooped as he looked down at you. 

“I would’ve,” you repeat just as loudly, digging the weapon harder into him. Pity remained on his face and you couldn’t stop the tears threatening to spill again. Whether it was from frustration or sorrow, you weren’t sure. 

“I would’ve, I would’ve, I would’ve!” 

The words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra, each repetition feeling like the only way to catch your breath. With every spoken word, you hit his chest, though your punches weaken with every syllable.

Spencer continued to watch you, observing you as he gave you the space that you needed. When you looked up at him, his eyes were glistening, triggering something inside of you.

A sob broke free from your chest. Spencer’s gun slipped from his hand in reaction, falling into the sand with a muffled thud. 

“I should’ve…” you choked out, the words a combination of an apology and a confession.

Spencer nodded compassionately, his hands reaching out to gently cup yours. 

 “Should’ve done it. Should’ve been me.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he spoke reassuringly, carefully taking the gun from your limp fingers and tucking it in his back pocket. His hands quickly returned to yours, without you even registering his movement. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” you softly cried. The words weren’t meant for Spencer, but somehow, he understood. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you against the spot where your gun had been only seconds ago.

Sorries became the new prayer you desperately muttered against his chest. Sorries to Natalie. Sorries for being weak. Sorries for not giving her the justice she deserved. Sorries for dishonoring her when she needed you most. Sorries for everything.

The apologies to others turned into a plea to receive them yourself. Sorry for making you so naive. Sorry for making you weak. Sorry for giving you the need to run from yourself. 

Your head hung low against him, your grip on his shirt tightening, your lungs constricting like it was painful to breathe. 

“You’re angry.” Spencer noted, noticing the change in your posture. 

You sniffled against him, not having the energy to lie. “Yes.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture made your stomach flutter. 

You felt conflicted by his kindness. How was he able to hold you so tightly? To choose to stay by your side despite the mess you were.

The delicacy of his touch parallel to the fury still simmering inside of you. 

“I am so mad,” you admitted in a resigned breath.

His hand slid from your head to your neck, gently cupping your jaw. “Let it out on me.”

You had to furrow your brows, not sure if you understood him correctly. 

“I mean it. Your body is full of cortisol and epinephrine. Stress hormones,” he explained. “You need to be relieved of those.”

His fingertips trailed lightly over your arm, and you followed his touch with your eyes. 

“Use me. Let me offer you relief.”

You stood frozen in place, swallowing the breathless laugh that almost escaped your lips, as you noted the genuine look expressed on Spencer’s face.

His eyes bored into yours, the hazel of his irises altering into a darker shade of brown.

Tentatively, your hands moved up his body, and only then did his heartbeat quicken. Your fingers continued trailing upward until you gripped his collar, the fabric soft in your tight grip. His eyes don’t leave yours, mouth just slightly agape as you pull him in closer. 

Then you kiss him — hard.

*link to smut (pt. 2.5)

-`♡´-

The ventilation quietly hummed in the back of the motel room from the shower you had just taken. After the intimate moment on the beach, Spencer had convinced you to take him back to the motel you were staying at. “They’re all fast asleep. They haven’t noticed me leaving” he assured you. 

It didn’t matter anymore if they knew your whereabouts, you’ve told Spencer everything anyway. How Natalie has been your bestest friend in college. How you were tied to the hip. How you never left each other’s sight — except for that one night…

You had cried in his arms, and he had let you. He held you close as you lay in bed. He comforted you with statistics about guilt and trauma, as you told him why you went to that reunion that night. It marked the anniversary of the week Natalie had died. Of the week you received an email from her: a final note. Telling you by the time you read this, she’d be long gone.

You hadn’t gone to her funeral. Didn’t even receive an invitation. You hadn’t been in contact with Natalie ever since she had called you from that party. You’d picked her up that night, taken her to the hospital, and left the second the doctors told you she’d be fine. 

You didn’t tell Spencer this part. You only told him that you expected there to be a memorial at the reunion, a way for you to have a proper goodbye. Your heart had stopped in the same way it had years ago when you walked into the bar and found that there was nothing. Nothing but loud music, colored lights, and drunk people. It was as if Natalie had never existed.

Your ears had rang. Your breaths came in short pants. With all your might, you suppressed the rising panic attack, using the last bit of strength to walk toward the three men you’d spotted from the start. The men that had done this to Natalie. Who had killed her, although not with their hands. 

Naive little birdie, Natalie had always called you. The sweet nickname now sounded more haunting as the three men stared you up and down. Your heart beated in expectancy, but then you noticed their dilated pupils. The way their breath reeked of hard liquor. Their lips still glossy with alcohol as they gave you a sluggish smirk. They hadn’t even recognized you. Naive little birdie.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. “It’s okay.”

You had shaken your head, the memories tearing apart into small pieces in your mind. Quickly, you had finished your story, telling him that after that moment, you didn’t have it in you to walk past everyone again. Too terrified to see the laughs on their faces. Instead, you marched straight to the emergency exit.

The both of you stayed quiet after your confession. The air hung heavy with silence, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“We need to talk about it at some point,” Spencer brings up.

You nodded. Spencer had been kind to you, given you the time to process, but the conversation was inevitable. You hadn’t killed anyone. So someone else had.

“Someone is trying to blame this on you. Someone wants to see you gone,” he softly whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

The subject made you feel uncomfortable. You had thought about it before. Plenty of times, actually. But every time you did what you did best: ignore it. It wasn’t as easy to disregard when someone was looking you in the eyes, their pain so visible.

Still, you shrugged, brushing aside his comment. “It doesn’t matter. I wanted them gone, and now they are. It doesn’t matter how.”

“It does matter.” 

The rise in his voice made you flinch, and he instantly cupped your hands, pulling you back to him. “‘M sorry. I’m just scared.”

It was strange to hear someone be so honest. Spencer had been honest with you from the start. He’d said that he would protect you, and he was still keeping to that promise.

You moved your hand to your hair, wanting to twirl  the locks as a nervous habit, but then realized most of it was cut short. 

“I guess we can tell your team tomorrow,” you settle on saying, swallowing as you envision their dirty looks.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gaze, leaning forward as he hid the small, grateful smile that lingered his lips.

You chuckled, feeling relieved by his response. You nodded your head against the pillow. “Really.”

The room returned to silence. Surely now deeply comfortable. No more questions that lingered in the air. The back of Spencer’s fingers lazily traced the side of your face. His warm hand trailed down the skin. His eyes flickered over your face, expression filled with awe as he grazed his fingers through your short locks. “Your hair looks pretty.”

A soft snort escaped you, “It looks horrendous.”

He responded with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“I think this suits you better. Not that I didn’t like your other haircut,” he quickly corrected himself, making you chuckle. “I like your face. The longer hair hid it. Now I can see you.”

Your cheeks warmed. Spencer did see you. Not just your appearance — he saw you. He had seen you from the moment your eyes had locked when he and his team had found you and brought you to the station. He had seen you before you’d even seen yourself. The thought of stopping your hiding, your fleeing, didn’t seem so scary anymore. Not when staying would bring you to him. 

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a low rumble, followed by a louder one. Spencer’s hand slipped from your hair as he placed it on his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

A bright, childlike laugh bubbled from your chest. Spencer snickered, grinning from ear to ear. He bashfully brushed his fingers through his messy curls. “I havent really eaten since we’ve gotten here.”

“Let me grab you a snack.” You crawled out of bed, legs still a little shaky as you stood up. 

“Do you have snacks in the room?

“No, but there’s a vending machine outside.”

He propped himself up against the pillows, his eyes following you as you made your way over to the bathroom where your clothes were bundled up on the tile floor. He let out a small sigh as you walked out of sight.

He naturally timed the minutes till the door creaked open again. You had washed yourself up in the sink, some water droplets still clinging to your neck. Your hair less frizzy now that it had been dampened. You wore your clothes from earlier, though one could tell they had been taken off of you multiple times.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, grabbing the key and some coins from the cabinet. And he believed you.

-

The door shut behind you, a cold breeze immediately hugging your skin. The LED lamps brightened the exterior corridor. The vending machine at the end of the walkway shone even brighter, catching your attention.

You walked straight toward it, curiously peering into the transparent door. You pressed the numbers for trail mix and beef jerky — something that could pass for dinner. You inserted the coin, impatiently bending down in front of the opening.

The rumbling sound of the machine was followed by a whoosh of air.

Then a sharp bang echoed through your skull.

Then you were gone.

-`♡´-

Shadows of bright lights flickered in front of your eyes, giving the illusion that you rubbed them too hard.

You forced your eyelids open, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying down, you would’ve stumbled. With effort, you scrambled yourself up into a sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

Four tiled walls enclosed you. The room resembled a lab: a sink with a counter to the left, an iron door on the wall right in front of you, and an air vent to the right. 

A bitter odor entered your airways, making you scrunch your nose. You turned your head to the left — a little too quickly — the throbbing pain catching up with you, making you groan in pain. 

Your hands shot to the sides of your face, trying to hold your head still in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. 

A warm liquid coated your fingers. You pulled your hand back and saw it was stained crimson. A gasp left you, followed by a string of whimpers as you felt yourself growing faint. 

You spotted a red first aid kit on top of the counter. On your knees, you slumped toward it, taking several breaks despite the distance only being ten feet. 

With clammy hands, you clutched the counter, inhaling a deep breath before dragging yourself up. Your body hovered over the table, and you reached your arm out to pull the kit closer to you. You fumbled with the lock on the box. “Open up, please,” you begged to whatever God that was listening.

The acid smell grew stronger, and it was then that you noticed the small vial next to the first aid kit. Its contents contained a light yellow solid. Cyanide — poison. 

The metal door creaked open, the sound stinging straight through your skull. You cried out as you fell to the ground. You backed away to the nearest wall, curling your knees to your chest just in time for the door to fully open. “Naive little birdie. You’re awake.”

PART 2.5

[butterflyscribbles]

I am happy with the family hugs and love we got in the 3rd movie. But also, I was also hoping for family kisses, too?! Too much? Like SIS LOOK AT ME, I refuse to accept them not having kissed each other already! Like how can you look at them fluffy creatures you have adopted and resist the urge to pat their heads or boop their noses or cuddle or kiss or just squish them dead all the time? Crossing my fingers for at least parental forehead kisses in movie 4! 🤞😌 Anyway, what is your take on the Wachowski brothers recieving their first ever kisses from Tom and Maddie? 😃❤

Oh yes definitely absolutely. Smooches abound in the Wachowski family, though it takes a varying amount of time before the boys become comfortable with it.

Long post underneath with individual headcanons.

Sonic was most stubborn about it for sure. Hugs he was already hesitant about bc he always had an ego to maintain, even when no one was watching. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t seek them out from time to time. Kisses were the same principle but even worse, especially since he grew up thinking they were something mainly from mushy romance movies that he would watch (and fall asleep out of boredom at) through their window. It started with them blowing kisses during goodbyes (like Maddie did in movie 2). One rough evening after a particularly bad nightmare, Tom got bold and gave him a swift one between the ears. He loosened up a bit faster after that. He and Tom established their own ritual, where Tom would kiss the palm of his hand and rub it into Sonic’s forehead sparing him only some of the embarrassment he still grapples with.

Knuckles had the benefit of watching Tom and Maddie doing it to Sonic at least, but he was still extremely hesitant about them at first. One day though, Maddie gave him a quick lil kiss after he helped her out randomly with a chore and he froze. He was overwhelmed in that moment and had no idea how to respond for such praise after what he thought was such a menial task. After a while, the power of love and the meaning behind this “human ritual of affection and vulnerability”…fascinated him in all honesty. He wanted to understand it, and Tom and Maddie were more than happy to oblige. It got to the point where Knuckles actually became the only one of their boys that would attempt to reciprocate the gesture occasionally. He is now honored to receive them and takes the goodbye and goodnight smooches with full gratitude.

Tails accepted kisses the quickest in comparison to both of them. I think the first time was a duel comfort attempt from both Tom and Maddie. It was after a device/invention failure and Tails was really upset. Lowkey was terrified of them lashing out or being angry because he messed up, but they assured him it was completely the opposite. He was always the quickest to accept physical affection and kisses were no exception. He melted into it wholeheartedly, already knowing it was a gesture that represented love and gratitude.

[no-144444]

telling- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | more to come...

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“You alright?” he mused, his hand squeezing yours. You nodded softly, smiling at him. 

“Fine,” you nodded. “I’m just… worried, I guess.” 

He shook his head. “Nothing to be worried about, they love you already.” 

You followed just a step behind him as he led you to the dining room. You’d been dating Oscar Piastri for 2 whole days. The sun set over Melbourne and the wonderful colours poured in from their large windows, as everyone sat down to dinner. Oscar had ‘stolen’ you away from Mae and Nicole for the day, opting to take you to meet some of his old friends and show you around his home town a bit, and you’d really enjoyed yourself. Australia was beautiful, the kind of place you’d like to live once F1 was over. The weather was warm, the sea was blue, and the people were kind. And Oscar was there. You liked it a lot. 

“What did you two get up to today?” Nicole asked over dinner. 

Oscar shrugged. “Not much, just took her to meet some of my old mates and showed her around a bit. She’s never been to Australia.” 

“She can speak y’know,” Mae sassed at her older brother, who rolled his eyes and shut up. 

You chuckled. “It was cool. Melbourne’s really nice. I usually only see it from the cockpit of the car.”

“What’s it like driving so fast?” Tim asked, still fascinated by it. 

“It’s kind of… unnoticeable unless something has gone really wrong,” you chuckled. “It’s cool though, everything just kind of whips past you.” 

“Fascinating,” he nodded. “Different from my line of work anyway,” he laughed. 

“Oh yeah, what about your parents? What do they do?” Nicole asked. Oscar stiffened beside you, watching carefully at how the question would play out. He knew about you and your parents' estranged relationship. He knew it was a sensitive subject. 

“They’re doctors, I think,” you shrugged. “One of them was a psychologist, and the other was a general practitioner.” 

Nicole’s face fell, a pit growing in her stomach as she feared the worst. “Are they passed?” She placed a comforting hand on your forearm. 

“No,” you shook your head. It was awkward to explain, but who cared? They’d probably find out anyway, just like everyone else did. It got leaked to the press in the middle of your 2nd season in F3 that you were estranged from your very famous, very powerful folks, and moreover, that they had a new family. It used to bother you. Sometimes, it still did. But Nicole wasn’t a nosy reporter, and you weren’t 17 anymore. “They just kind of… shipped me off to boarding school when I was 8 and cut me off when I was 17. We just weren’t close and it was clear they didn’t want kids at that time.”

“I’m sorry,” she squeezed your arm and you offered a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” you nodded. “Sorry for bringing the mood down.”

Hattie shook her head. “You didn’t, and anyway, their loss is our gain.” 

You smiled appreciatively at them. “Well, I did want to thank you all again for having me.”

“Any time,” Nicole smiled. “Always.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar smiled as he pulled off your top and pressed your head against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, relaxing into his touch. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low. 

You hummed against his skin. The both of you were lit by only candles (Oscar’s favourite thing ever), his bedroom looking increasingly cosy under the light. The soft breeze coming in from the window gave you goosebumps, but he was warm enough for the both of you. “Yeah, you?”

“I’m good,” he nodded, his hands wrapping around your legs and hoisting you up so that your legs were around his waist, and your arms were around his neck. You squealed and he dropped you onto his bed with a chuckle, pressed a kiss to your cheek, then walked to his bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. He loved kissing you. It was addicting, you were addicting. He had never pinned himself as a physical touch sort of guy, but there basically hadn't been a moment where he hadn't been touching you since you'd made it official, and you didn't seem to mind.

You cuddled up in bed, enjoying the soft pillows and lingering scent of Oscar. As you heard the shower turn on, your eyes fixated on the view outside the window. The ocean flowing gently just outside, the beach in front of you, the moon reflecting off small shells embedded in the sand, it was so beautiful. 

You heard the shower stop, and your attention turned back to you and Oscar. You two were official and it felt insane to be able to say he was your boyfriend, but you enjoyed it all the same. “Osc?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, the sound warped by the toothbrush in his mouth. 

“Do you want to tell your family about us?” you questioned, playing with the hem of one of the pillows. “No pressure, of course.” 

He poked his head out from the bathroom, the towel around his bottom half dangerously low. You let your eyes wander all over him, his wet hair, his build physique, his goofy smile. “You mean it?” 

You nodded. “I mean… yeah? I feel weird being here and them not knowing,” you shrugged. “I don’t want to keep it from them, or really anyone, but especially them, right?” 

He nodded. “I agree,” he grinned. “We’ll tell them this week.” 

You smiled. “Cool,” then turned to your side and grabbed your book. 

“Are you going to act like that wasn’t a milestone?” he mused, joining you in bed, shorts on and towel-dried hair. 

“What?” you questioned, not looking up from your book. 

“You want to tell my parents about us,” he smiled. “That’s big.” 

You shrugged, unconvinced. “Is it though?” 

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Yeah, it is,” he lay there for a moment, just watching you read. “You look beautiful,” he smiled. 

You turned to him and laughed. “You’re such a sop.” 

He rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. “Uh-huh,” he nodded and kissed you again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Do you want to come with us to Sydney?” Hattie offered as you two ate breakfast together. “We’re just going for like a few days, but we’d love to have you.” 

“Plus Mae will be like, miserable without you,” Eddie chuckled. You smiled. 

You shrugged. “I’d love to come.” 

“Where are we going?” Oscar asked as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“Y/n, Eddie, Mae, Mom, and I are all going to go on a trip to Sydney,” Hattie explained. 

Oscar nodded. “Can I come?” 

“Sure-” Eddie shrugged. 

“Mum wants it to be a girls trip,” Mae reminded them. 

“Come on, Y/n is my-”

“She’s our friend too,” Mae argued. 

“Yeah, and arguably, you could let Y/n out of your sight for more than three seconds,” Hattie chuckled. “She doesn’t constantly need you looking out for her. She can have a week away with her mates if she wants.” 

They were both quiet. 

“Hattie, what the fuck?” he scoffed. “If you’d let me finish, I could tell you that Y/n is my girlfriend, and I’d very much like to spend my break with her.” 

Hattie, Eddie, Mae, Nicole, and Tim’s eyes all looked to you for confirmation. You swallowed the bite of food in your mouth and turned to Oscar. 

“It’s only like 4 days,” you shrugged, and he stared back at you. “And then I’ll be back. Or I don’t have to go.” 

“Oh, I thought it was the month trip mum had planned-”

“You’re dating?!” Nicole cheered, rushing over to hug the both of you. “That’s great news!” 

“How’s he done that?” Eddie whispered to Hattie, who just laughed. 

You graciously accepted the hug, then turned back to the conversation. “I don’t mind.” 

“You go, I thought it was the month-long thing my mum wanted to do,” he explained, and kissed the top of your head. “When are you leaving?” 

“Tomorrow,” Hattie interjected. 

“Cool,” he smiled. 

“Cool,” you mirrored. 

It wasn’t exactly how either of you were planning on telling them, but it worked all the same.

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[miyaz6ki]

i might let you make me juno ✰

synopsis. literally the title, each are just small drabbles though :)! 1 kink i think they would have, as well as something they'd dislike(?), idrk what I'll put since I make these before I write 😭

the blade has spoken. i forgot to post yesterday :sob: rb for pt 2 ORR FOR MORE OF MY SUPER DUPER SICK CONTENT!!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette

warnings. NSFW, mdni please!! sex :pensive:, although some are fluffier than others!, lwk hatefucking in alhaitham's (academic rivals to lovers), corruption kink (capitano's), vision play w diluc (not rly my main point), cockwarming,

albedo, who already has you placed right in front of him, legs spread as he kneels before you. although he glanced at the beauty in front of him, his eyes would tell a million words, the ones he couldn't speak. in general, whatever you were into, so was he.

the alchemist, delving his tongue into real delicacy for the first time, had himself on a chokehold, every now and then gazing back up to the figure he loved the most, pleasured by what he was doing. fuck he loved you so much. the taste had him hypnotized, he could probably do this forever.

every minute that passed, he felt himself falling in love over and over again. holding your thighs closer to the sides of his face, he could feel how much pleasure he gave.

alhaitham, who has you pinned to the wall, your chest pressed up against the surface. he held both your wrists in one of his hands, and the other on the left side of your waist. rocking his hips into yours, archons he was so fucking in love with the way you clenched against his member.

as much as he hates you, or says he does, it's really the opposite. he's never met anyone who could get him as mad as he is right now, not anyone could piss him off. he loved it so damn much.

he loved watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, no one else could get him boiling, but no one could ever be this deep inside you like he does, right? he better be. or he'll spend the next nights trying to prove himself right to you. so at least for once he'll win.

capitano loved to absolutely break you. corrupt you. he wanted to make sure you were indefinitely all his. and no one else's. he loved seeing those cute little tears of yours roll down your cheeks, whining about how you can't take it when both of you know you can!

you're all his, right? hopefully, and rightfully so, because no one as big as him would ever please your little hole now. but he supposes that something should make up for the pain you feel whenever he enters, it should be the pleasure, and somewhat comfort he can attempt to give.

so he lets you pick whatever position you wanted, and honestly, his favorite while letting you choose was whatever position he could see you the most in. especially when it includes your pretty little face. he wants to see how good he makes you feel <3

he always has his hands on you it feels so dirty. but childe has no excuse for himself, his only purpose is to make sure others know how to fuck off from what's only supposed to be his, it's not your fault, nor his, but he just has the indefinite need to show you off. whether it'd be how the marks all over your collarbone would be the prettiest!

he knows it hurts, but for now, just endure it, and he'll make sure to take care of it later. he makes sure to kiss it all away anyway, no matter how deep inside he might be, you're his reason to fight, his reason to live and come back home for another day with you.

oh well, he dreams of starting a nice little family with you. coming home to you and your two.. maybe three children? you'll both figure it out later. after he finishes inside you, his rough hands, which bruised your hips with small, little crescents ingrained into your skin. oh he's already planning the names!

wriothesley is generally turned on by any position he could see you in. similarly to capitano, but the thing is... he much prefers seeing how his cock imprints itself in your stomach.

sure your expressions are pretty cute, but nothing better than seeing you throw your head back, trying to ride his big member when you know you need help from him! all you have to do is say please...

if you didn't, he'd simply watch the show. watch you trying to take him all at once, and only hurting yourself more by trying to take what you can't (without his assistance). and in which he simply.. takes control himself, and helps you slowly sink onto his shaft instead. of course whole holding your hand!

diluc who uses his vision to his advantage, his hands already over your chest, as the temperature of his palm rises slowly, while letting you cockwarm him.

whether it's while he's writing, and signing away paperwork for the wine business, and his other hand over one of your nipples, or if all his attention is focused on you, watching how you react with a VIP seat, which would be taken literally as you sat on his dick.

a teasing touch from one of his fingers would rub against the spot where his cock was snug inside you, infused with a bit of warmth with the help of his vision.

neuvillette who's instincts get to him, as he watches your reaction through the pristine, crystal mirror in front of you both. it was a gift from his daughter figure—furina.

dear archons, please do forgive him for using her gift in such a.. filthy way, but nothing gets him going like seeing you stare at yourself be pleasured so well by none other than himself. his head fitting in the crook of your neck as he only turns himself on more, only reaching even deeper with his shaft inside you.

and wow he couldn't even wait for the main course tonight, for someone who's very knowledgeable on the taste of water from every region—he much preferred whatever substances you could make.

[kazumist]

A LITTLE MORE THAN YOU REALIZE .ᐟ

✩ — the temptation to indulge yourself in selfishness curses you and caleb. from the day he graduated to the day he returned back alive—it never leaves. greediness is a sin. yet neither of you care, as you love one another in greed.

✩ — includes: caleb x f!mc!reader. fluff, angst, hurt/comfort. childhood friends to strangers (not literally) to yearners to lovers (i love their pipeline bro). wc: 14,670. yes, 14 fucking THOUSAND i went feral over him !!!!

✩ — cw: THIS FIC IS A REIMAGINE, MEANING IT CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FROM THE FOLLOWING - stage observer, exclusive aftertaste, endless summer, lucid dream (myth), hidden waves, homecoming wings (both 1 & 2) and the events that happen in this fic is HEAVILY based from these memories mentioned (i put my own twist into it !!!). caleb is CRAAAZY like how he usually is. :3 mentions a bit of violence and food. a biiiit suggestive but i honestly think it's not that bad. this fic is semi-proofread, meaning there still could be some minor errors that i might have overlooked.

FIRST: GRADUATION SURPRISES (WAIT FOR ME TO COME BACK).

The familiar sounds of rustling papers and flipping through the pages of dusty books echoed in Caleb’s bedroom. As you flip through another book, inspecting whether it should go to the “stay with Gran” or “go with Caleb” pile in the room, an envelope with a pattern of apples slips out and lands on your lap.

Is this a love letter? You wondered, grabbing it and flipping it around to check the details. But the thing is—Caleb doesn’t accept love letters. Yet this one is kept in a book as if Caleb were using it as a bookmark. You huff at the thought—he doesn’t even use the lucky charm I made him back then, even though I worked really hard on that.

Checking around Caleb’s desk, you confirm that there’s nothing as feminine as the envelope in your hand.

Could it be from someone that he likes?

That thought alone made your stomach churn. You didn’t even hear the door opening until you felt a suddenly cold feeling against your cheek. It was Caleb, lightly pressing a soda against your face. “Got that tired, pipsqueak?” He asks, opening the can of soda before handing it to you again.

The soft pop! of the can opening reminded you that Caleb didn’t know about the envelope, so you hid it from him and took the soda from his hand. “How thoughtful of you to open the can for me. Bet you captured a lot of hearts with that attitude, huh?” You told him before taking a sip. 

You were looking at his back when you were drinking, watching him fix the suitcase that’s currently open on his bed. When you lower the drink and put it on the table, Caleb stops and gives you a strange look. “I’m pretty sure there wasn’t anything mixed in that soda I gave you. Are you okay up there?” He replies.

“Hey! Rude much?” You furrowed your brows at him but that quickly went away as you suddenly felt his hand pinching your cheek. “Owww! shtop it!” The words that come out of your moment aren’t really that coherent. “Then stop talking nonsense.”

Caleb never keeps secrets from me—why is that envelope an exception?

-

When the day of Caleb’s graduation approached, he leaned down toward you as you helped him fix his tie. 

“You know, these past few days I’ve been reflecting,” you told him. He teasingly raised an eyebrow at you for a moment. “That’s new. What were you reflecting on?” He asks. “Now that you’re graduating... Well, I just thought that I didn’t need to know everything, Caleb. However, if you ever meet someone more important than me, then you absolutely have to tell me.” avoiding his gaze, you loosened your grip on his tie, but you didn’t let go. You could faintly feel the rhythm of his steady heartbeat against your hands.

“Who could be more important?”

“... I don’t know. You ask yourself that question.” You take a deep breath. “You’ll definitely meet a lot of new people soon. New allies, new friends, maybe even...” Maybe even a girlfriend. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. “What? You mean a girlfriend?” Sometimes you despise how Caleb could easily read you like a book.

Your silence was the only answer he needed. “I won't get a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Caleb, you’re the last one we’re waiting for. The commencement speeches are about to be given,” his classmate says from behind him. Yet Caleb doesn’t move an inch, keeping his gaze focused on you. He doesn’t seem to care about the commencement speeches, almost approaching the scheduled program, and is only concerned about you.

“I won't get a girlfriend,” he repeats, emphasizing himself this time. “You and Gran are enough for me. I don't really have the energy to care about other people. So you don’t have to worry, I won't." You let go of his tie and he pulls away and stands up straight. Before he takes his leave, he doesn’t forget to ruffle your hair, which you slap his hand away for. He lets out a small laugh at your reaction. “Gotta go now. Wait for me to come back.”

As soon as Caleb started his speech, he seemed unreachable to you. Like he was so far—out of your arm’s length unlike before—but maybe it was about time that your arm got sore. Will he not get a girlfriend? You couldn’t help but think. “My speech would’ve ended here, but before I went onstage, someone told me something strange. It had to do with what’s “important”.”

You didn’t have to be a genius to know that he was referring to you. Your eyes met Caleb’s despite the large crowd that’s watching him right now. He flashed you a small smile and continued. “She said that after graduation, I would meet more people and experience new things. Maybe I'd meet someone who is more “important” than her.

But I believe that it ultimately comes down to choice. People only yearn for the future because they haven’t encountered someone they truly cherish. I consider myself lucky. I already have someone very important to me, someone who I can't live without.

I wish everybody could have this luck. Thank you, and happy graduation.” The audience applauds for him, some even whistling (his batchmates, perhaps) yet Caleb holds his gaze at you. Neither of you broke eye contact for a long moment. As the most anticipated moment of tossing their graduation caps in the air occurred; Caleb took it as his cue to leave the stage and join the crowd below him. The crowd becomes bigger, and you find it difficult to navigate yourself through it.

Nearby, you see Caleb push through the midst of the crowd. He seems anxious as if he were searching for someone. “Caleb!” You called out to him. He looks in your direction; the crowd seems to have lessened, and you make a run for him. “Hey, be careful! You—” You interrupt Caleb by throwing your arms around him.

Standing on your tiptoes, you gently pull his face down and press a kiss to his cheek before he could even react. Caleb’s eyes widen at your actions, his brain running a million thoughts as seconds pass by. The soft feeling of your lips pressing against his cheek is something he could never forget in his life.

A selfish act on your part—a shocking one to Caleb.

“Congratulations on getting through college! There’s your gift—you can’t find a girlfriend now, Caleb!” You say, sticking out your tongue at him before handing him a bouquet that you prepared beforehand.

“Actually… when you were packing, I stumbled upon this love letter that’s in an envelope with some apples decorated on it. I'm not forgiving you for keeping it a secret for me but I'll let it slide just this once because your speech was good.” You then reached out to take Caleb’s cap from his head, wearing it on your head instead.

But Caleb stays unusually quiet. His ears are red and he swears they’re probably burning even more as you two bask in the sunlight. “...Caleb? Are you okay there?” You ask him, waving a hand in front of him to get his attention. Your hand then tries to reach out to his ear but Caleb grabs your wrist before you can do so.

He gently lowers your hand, leans down, and covers his face with his other hand right after. “Caleb?” You move closer to him but he flicks your forehead just as you did so. “Ouch! Hey!”

“This... love letter you’ve mentioned. It was tucked in my copy of flight detector mechanics, right? And it was in an envelope with an apple pattern on it,” he then says. “I think so. You remember it well, huh?” You don’t know why that disturbed you a bit.

Caleb pinches your cheek again and you repeatedly slap his arm to make him stop. He doesn’t. “Silly girl. That’s the lucky charm you gave me for my exams. The original envelope got ink on it so I replaced it with a new one.”

Oh.

“So... it wasn't... a love letter? Like at all?”

Embarrassment courses through your veins. What the actual fuck? You thought. But before you could think about it even more, Caleb’s hand sneaked around your waist and pulled you to stand beside him. You two are suddenly faced by what seems like a photojournalist for the academy’s newspaper.

As the photojournalist was finding the right focus for the picture, Caleb leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“I have never kept a secret from you, not even once. And I don't plan on doing so anytime soon.”

SECOND: PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME. NOT LIKE THIS.

The explosion pushes you back, sending a ringing sound through your ears. You slowly opened your eyes, your vision slightly covered in all of the dust floating around. But once your vision clears, your eyes widen in shock at the sight before you. 

The home that you and Caleb once grew up in is now burning in flames. Gran is still in there; oh my god, Caleb—Caleb just went in a few moments ago. Mustering up all your strength, you push yourself up, hissing at the sudden pain you feel in your ankle. I probably twisted it when the explosion happened, shit. But you didn’t let that stop you. 

You limped towards the burning house in front of you but suddenly you felt someone pulling you back. You looked at who it was and saw that the firefighters had just arrived and were now preparing to put the flames away. “Ma’am, it’s not safe to go near the scene. Please stand back.”

The firefighter’s grip on you was tight. Struggling to break from his grip, you replied. “No, I—I can't. Gran is still in there, please—he's still in there. I have to save them, I—” Panic took over you as you noticed that there were now firefighters who were holding water hoses and putting the fire away.

“There are firefighters right now going inside to check on them; we need to ask you to stay put as the flames are still being put out.”

Still feeling dazed from the explosion, your head throbs. You stumbled in your steps, feeling your knees getting weaker. The firefighter who was holding you back caught you before you fell to your knees and you couldn’t do anything. You just follow his lead in bringing you to an ambulance stationed a few steps away.

A year then passes after that incident. You still remember the day the city hall sent you a text and confirmed Gran and Caleb’s deaths, asking you to pick up their death certificates as soon as you can. You still get nightmares from that day. It was all so… sudden. One moment you were just walking with Caleb, and the moment he stepped inside, everything was gone in a blink of an eye. 

How could you possibly move on from experiencing something so heartbreaking?

THIRD: JUST HOW CRUEL AND UNFAIR CAN YOU BE?

“I have never kept a secret from you, not even once. And I don't plan on doing so anytime soon.”

Caleb’s words during his graduation from the Aerospace Academy suddenly echo in your head as soon as the restraints on your wrists release you from the chair. Looking back now, just how ironic was it for him to say that?

“Surprised? I'm sure that it’s been a while, but you already forgot about me?” He chuckles, reaching a hand to ruffle your hair just like he did before. You slapped his hand away from your head—you had no idea what was happening right now. He had been terrifying just moments ago, and now he was acting like nothing had happened.

Acting as if he hadn’t left you alone a year ago.

“You—Caleb, you’re dead! I had to fucking watch you die in that explosion!” You hadn’t intended to raise your voice. But with Caleb’s sudden reappearance in your life, how else were you supposed to feel? 

Caleb’s expression had amusement written all over it. “If I were dead, then who would be standing in front of you right now?” He asks as if he was teasing you.

And that pissed you off even more. You stood up to stand in front of him, and when Caleb reached out to you yet again, you slapped his hand away. Frantically, your eyes scanned him—his lips, his cheeks, his hair, his eyes—you couldn’t believe it. Could it be that he really evaded death back then? 

“C'mon, pipsqueak, don’t be like that.” The second you heard pipsqueak roll off of his tongue, it almost made you nauseous. He attempts to get closer to you again, and this time you let him, as you are still trying to process it all. Instead of ruffling your hair, he gently patted your head this time. as if he was trying to soothe you.

It would’ve worked—it should’ve worked. Caleb always knew how to soothe you when you were in pain. He always knew how to ease it. But you never would’ve thought that one day he would be the one causing it.

How can he ease the pain like he did before when he’s the one who caused it this time?

“I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” He whispers low as one hand cradles your cheek and the other pulls you slightly closer by the waist. You didn’t know what to say; your mind was blank. All you could do was stare into his eyes, hoping that he would be able to read you just like he did before.

"You... you left me.” You managed to whisper back somehow. “I—I still don’t understand. How are you so fine with this? Did you just fucking think that I'd be ecstatic to see you? Is that the reaction you were expecting, Caleb?” You burst, pulling yourself away from him but Caleb’s grip on you was tight. 

“Let go of me!” You yelled, punching his chest as you struggled. The overwhelming weight of everything that had happened took over, tears prickling and blurring your vision—perhaps it was rage, perhaps it was grief—you didn’t know. “I didn't leave you, pipsqueak.” he then says.

Liar.

Caleb never lied to you. He never broke a promise either. Yet why does it all feel void now? “You did,” you hissed at him. “How could you be so—cruel, Caleb? Leaving me in the dark like this, I could've helped you! How can you be so fucking unfair?”

“How could you be so... so selfish?”

You finally broke free from his grip and took a step back but Caleb’s reflexes were quick as he grabbed ahold of your arm immediately.

The loud sound of your palm hitting his cheek echoed in the interrogation room. He let his head face the side for a moment; you didn’t know what to expect. You could feel Caleb’s grip on your arm tightening painfully. But he just pulls you closer again and you just glare at him this time.

Caleb then leaned into your ear. “I didn't leave you,” he repeats, his voice weaker this time. He sounded so… vulnerable.

You held back a sob at that, letting a few tears escape as they rolled down your cheeks. Caleb pulls back, returning his hand to gently caress your cheek. You felt the cold feeling of rubber from his gloves as he was wiping away your tears. “It’s okay. Let it out. I'm here now.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you cried against the fabric of his uniform. Caleb lets you, wrapping one arm around your waist and his other hand cradling your head. The sound of your sobs wrecked him.

“I thought you were dead.” You felt Caleb press a soft kiss in your hair as soon as he heard you. “It’s okay, I'm back,” he replies. 

“And I'll always be by your side. I promise.”

FOURTH: THOUGHT THAT I KNEW, NOW I DON’T HAVE A CLUE. WHO ARE YOU?

When the wound on your knee reopened, Caleb gently set you on the couch and started to tend to your knee. You could see his eyes soften as he did so. “The injured cat you brought home—do you recall it? To prevent it from escaping without making noise, I attached a collar with a bell.”

You could feel your patience running thin by the second. “I don't want to hear it,” but with the help of Caleb’s evol, you couldn’t move your knee an inch. He leans closer to you, and his voice lowers itself by an octave. “Maybe I should put a collar around your neck too, to keep you from running away, hm?”

“Is this how you’re going to protect me? I just need to glue myself by your side at all times?”

“I know that it sounds a bit unfair, but...” Caleb grabbed a bracelet and wrapped it around your wrist. It quickly assessed your vital signs. Caleb clicks his tongue in annoyance at the results. “But because of that monster, your wounds are infected.” He then grabs ahold of your wrist, tugging it closer to him.

“Is there a way for you to run around without getting injured?” You scoff at him. “I've had enough of your protection, Caleb.”

The man kneeling in front of you was then sent into deep thought after you said those words. He lets out a deep breath before speaking up again. “If being with me brings you this much pain, then just endure three more days.” He immediately gets up but you ask him before he can take his leave. “What are you going to do?”

“...Tie up loose ends. I just need three days, and all of this will be over.”

-

Three days later, the news flashing on the television suddenly announced that the lockdown in Skyhaven had been lifted. You automatically knew who was behind this. “The fleet will return to the deepspace tunnel after all of this. You’ll be safe for now,” Caleb then says, turning off the television as soon as you get the news.

The sounds of raindrops against the window and thunder were all you could hear now. “So technically, in other terms, you’re just going to leave again and not utter a word about it.” That wasn’t a question. Caleb doesn’t reply; instead, he grabs your wrist again. “Let’s have one last meal together before I leave."

You pulled yourself away from his grip. “So what? Now I have to listen to the colonel’s orders even when it comes to having my meals?” You walked over to the couch, taking a seat there instead. Caleb follows and sits in front of you with an apple in his hand. “You can be mad, but you shouldn’t neglect your health.” 

“I'm not mad.”

“Growing up, we knew each other so well. Better than anyone, even. I could see through your lies when you blink. When you bit your lip, I knew you were upset over something.” His voice was soft and filled with reminiscence. “If that’s the case, what am I thinking about now?” A challenge aimed at him.

You could sense a brewing change in Caleb. It’s like the image you had of him during your childhood up until before he became the fleet’s colonel was slowly drowning away from you. “I wonder, how could you turn into someone I could hardly even recognize?” Your question had a hint of hurt in it.

“You think I have some chip implanted inside of me, right? And now, to you, I'm no longer who I was supposed to be.” The possibility of a chip being implanted inside of him sends a chill down your spine. What if he did have a chip inside of him? Caleb’s hand then reaches out to your cheek before you can form another thought about it. “What if I told you I was always like this?”

Caleb's face becomes stern. "The people who want to hurt you should just disappear. You’re only safe when you’re with me," you shake your head in a display of defiance. "I don’t want to live like this, Caleb! I don’t need you—"

The air between them is electric as he takes a step closer. Your back is pressed against the couch as Caleb’s figure towers over you. Fear had started to grow inside of you by this point. He then asks in a hushed, almost beseeching voice, "You don’t need me? Is that what you think?" He let himself fall closer, balancing by stretching out his arm on your right side.

“Fine then, tell me. What do you want?” You struggled to break your wrist free from his grip. “Let me go!” He doesn’t—he ignores. “We can return to Linkon if that’s what you wish. If you want to go back to the past, then I'll rebuild our old house, and we can move in together. If one house isn’t enough, I'll build you a whole maze. I'll decorate it with everything you want, and it’ll be the most beautiful garden; no one will ever find you.”

“I'll protect you forever.”

You let out a shaky sigh at his words. This was not the Caleb you knew from before. This was a different Caleb—and the painful part of everything about this? You thought you knew Caleb. After all, he said so himself. Growing up, you two knew each other so well. But why is it now that the man who is currently restraining you on the couch of his home seems so distant and unfamiliar from the Caleb you knew? 

“Caleb… you can’t just—” you pause, licking your lips as you thought of the right words to say. “Look, you’re very important to me, and no one could ever replace you.”

“Really now?” His voice was laced with doubt. “I've been choking and enduring day after day for years, holding myself back. However, now... I've had enough of those games.”

Who are you?

- 

“Remember this, okay? From now on, I'll always be by your side. It’s okay. I'll always be there for you, and I won't hurt you.” 

The far childhood memory appeared in your dreams last night. It almost feels like deja vu was occurring to you with irony in it as well. Guess you forgot all the things that you told me. So much for saying all of that when we were 12. you thought.

When a sudden gust of wind hit you, you snapped back into reality. “It feels like every time we say goodbye, I'm always sending you off,” you told him. Caleb is about to reach out his hand (to ruffle your hair again? perhaps), but he stops himself. He lowers his hand instead and replies. “I guess it won’t be a painful experience this time.”

“All right. I'll be going now.” You shift your gaze to the ground as a lump forms in your throat when Caleb bids his farewell. “Actually, wait.” You raise your head to look at him. “can you... promise me something?” He feels selfish for even having the guts to ask for such a thing from you.

Does he deserve to ask that?

Caleb honestly thinks he’s unworthy.

“Promise me that you’ll eat on time and look after yourself,” he says. “Okay,” you softly let out. 

“I promise.”

As you were on the way home, you and Tara caught up for a short moment. but the call ends abruptly due to Tara’s boss calling so suddenly. Putting back your phone in your pocket, you felt something strange inside of it. You pull it out to get a better look at it. A kid's handwriting was evident with the vibrant colors of crayons used to write it. 

Forgiveness coupon for Caleb. Valid for 100 years.

A sudden wave of sadness crashed inside of you as you could feel tears prickling your eyes again. “Oh my god. Caleb, you dummy... ” You find yourself laughing pathetically at the piece of paper in your hand as tears slowly slide down your face. 

And this is the moment you decide that you don’t want to lose Caleb for a second time.

FIFTH: HE WAS AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY YOU LOST HIM. 

While visiting the grocery store that you and Caleb used to visit a lot after school as teens, a wave of nostalgia hits you. The owner is getting ready to shut it down, which bummed you out, but you offered to assist with the cleanup.

Your mind wanders to Caleb as soon as you hear the sound of airplanes overhead. Entering the garden behind the business, which you and he used to spend time in when they were teenagers, you recall telling Caleb about the hydrangeas there. Because the hydrangeas bloomed for so long, Caleb had explained that it was named Endless Summer.

A shelf becomes unbalanced close by, and as you try to put it back where it belongs, Caleb's arm comes up behind you to stabilize it. 

You haven’t seen Caleb or even talked to him after you parted ways in Skyhaven. He sometimes sent you short texts but as soon as you were about to respond to them, he vanished into thin air each time.

It was awkward, to say the least.

While you were trapped between him and the shelf, he leaned in. "Even if there were three of you, this place wouldn't be cleaned up in time," he says. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze. So instead, your eyes look anywhere else except his eyes—he was wearing more casual clothes today and he had a luggage bag next to him. “What are you doing here?” You ask, changing the topic.

“Business trip. I also just happen to be passing by,” he says, putting his arm back to his side. You move away instantly at the given distance. You give Caleb another once-over, suddenly getting reminded of the times he’d come home for summer break with how he looked.

It’s like he’ll be leaving again so soon.

“When are you returning to Skyhaven?” you ask again. You have asked Caleb this question multiple times. But it feels bitter on your tongue as soon as it leaves your lips. And the Caleb standing in front of you... isn’t who he used to be. Caleb feigns hurt at your question, “I just got back, and you’re already asking when I’m leaving?”

“That’s not what I…” Caleb raises his hand a bit, and you notice. But he lowers it again. Why? What was he about to do? “Well, I’m pretty sure you don’t live in this neighborhood. So what brings you here?”

“Would you believe it if I said I was also passing by? I found out the owner was closing the store down and I thought I would help.” Caleb chuckles at that and glances at the shelf nearby. He makes a jab at your height. And when you snark a reply back at him, he raises his hand again, going for your hair—yet, he pauses.

His hand stays in the air for a quick second before he reaches out to grab a book from the top shelf to play it off. “You still need help to tidy this place up, right? I’ll lend a hand.”

“And I’ll be heading back to Skyhaven tomorrow morning.” Oh.

“All right then.”

There was some sort of tension in the air as you and Caleb faced away from each other. You both made yourselves busy with your own things within the store. 

You hated feeling awkward with Caleb. It was never supposed to be awkward with him. Yet with what has happened recently, perhaps change was bound to happen. However, were you even ready to accept change in the first place?

No clue.

-

You both head to the garden after the cleaning is complete. No one has been caring for the flowers, but they haven't altered much from what you can remember of them. The area has been taken over by leaves and vines—Caleb leaves to find the hose.

Your phone vibrated when he left; you checked it and saw that Tara had left you a voice message. Clicking the play button to listen to it, you heard Tara’s voice immediately. “Hey! There’s a new shooting range open in Azure Square. Do you wanna go for some rounds later? You know, for fun?” Before you could give a decline to her offer, Caleb comes back with the hose.

“Did something happen?” he asks. “Oh, a colleague just asked me if I wanted to hang out in Azure Square later.”

“If you wanna go, then I’ll be heading back to Skyhaven. I’ll drop you off at Azure Square since it’s on the way.”

You paused when you heard him. Why is he assuming that I’ll accept Tara’s offer? I was planning on declining in the first place. “There's no need,” you tell him. He looks away, shifting his gaze to the hydrangeas in front of you both. “Would it be... inconvenient if your colleague met me?”

Grabbing the hose from him, you faced it at him and quickly turned on the water. It splashes onto Caleb’s chin and he flinches at the sudden contact. You watch as the water droplets slide down his neck and soak the neckline of his muscle shirt. They soon reach the necklace hanging around his neck. Was Caleb’s neck always so…detailed? You wondered. 

Snap out of it.

You shot him a glare. “Caleb, I never said I was leaving in the first place.” Oh.

Before the awkward tension could return, you speak up again. “Aren’t you gonna water the plants?” The water hose is off as you offer it to Caleb. He kneels down to water the hydrangeas but when he glances at you, his gaze visibly softens. “Okay, you can stop glaring at me now. How about you water the plants this time?”

-

The familiar sound of a phone camera shuttering makes you glance at Caleb. “Huh? Did you take a picture of the white hydrangea?” He looks away, avoiding your gaze since he got caught. The picture, where the said white hydrangea is nearby the edge of it, has most of its focus on you.

“I rarely see things like these in Skyhaven. Even in my dreams, I could hear gunshots and blaring alarms.”

I also dream of you. a lot—perhaps even more after you left Skyhaven. Our last interaction before we parted troubles me in my sleep. Did you hate me for that? I hope you didn’t. I pray that you don’t—because I don’t know what I would do if you did hate me.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Someone calls out from inside the store. “That must be a customer. I’ll go take a look,” you told him. He nodded as you left the garden area.

-

When you return, you see Caleb napping. You liked it when Caleb slept, for he was so beautiful yet so unaware of it as he did so. (He was as beautiful as the day you lost him back then—but is it truly the same person from all those years ago before you?) 

He had a book resting on his abdomen but his brows were furrowed and he kept stirring in his sleep. His breathing slowly started to become heavy and you couldn’t help but feel so helpless at him. “You can’t even relax in your dreams, Caleb? ” you asked. 

He groans in response, and a hand reaches out to soothe him by his forehead. He groans even more, brows furrowing themselves even more. Your hand then moves down to his cheek and your thumb rubs against his under eyes. Caleb then grabs your wrist even though his eyes are still closed. “Don’t go…”

His eyes slowly flutter open but they stay half-lidded. “Don’t leave me alone.” Caleb leans in (whether it was to hug you or kiss you, you honestly can’t figure it out)—everything is happening so quickly, but you lightly push him away to wake him out of his senses. “Caleb…?” you softly call out to him.

“...Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Suddenly, you felt something sting your eye. You rubbed it with your knuckles, trying to get it out. “It's okay. I just got something in my eye.” You then feel Caleb’s hands grab yours, gently pulling it away from your eye. “Let me see.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”You asked him. A bitter smile tugs at him as he flicks his gaze from your lips and back to your eyes. “Don’t blink, okay?”He softly asks instead. He avoided the question.

Both of his palms feel cool as he gently grabs your face. Your eyes didn’t leave his at all when he blew your eye. The short distance has your heart hammering in your chest; your faces are only inches apart; one small nudge is all it takes and—what were you even thinking?

That would never happen. Not with Caleb. 

His other hand places itself on top of yours. His hands had always been bigger than yours—and without even looking at it, you could feel Caleb’s palm take over yours. An electric feeling when your fingers brushed against the heel of his palm. With one last rub of his thumb across your cheek, Caleb pulls away.

He pulls away as if he were restraining himself.

“Don’t move,” you say as you move closer to his face so you can softly blow a petal from his hair. "You know, the scent of endless summers can bring people sweet dreams for a whole night." He catches the petal in his hand and laughs. As you stand to leave, Caleb grabs your hand before you can get far.

"But... there aren’t any endless summers in Skyhaven.”

Skyhaven doesn’t have you. 

SIXTH: LIKE SOME KIND OF MAGNET, YOU’RE A MYSTIC FORCE. 

You don’t know if you’re hallucinating or what.

“Caleb? You didn’t message that you’d be visiting Linkon again,” you say. “I thought you’d be busy.” And just like the last time you saw each other, Caleb encounters you again as you were lending a hand to help someone. This time it was an old lady who had lost her bracelet and you helped her look for it.

When you returned the bracelet to her (Caleb trailing behind), you decided to ask. “Ma’am, this bracelet looks quite unique. Have you worn this for a long time?” The old lady in the wheelchair lets out a relaxed sigh. “Yes, someone special gave it to me back in the day. I never had the heart to throw it away.”

“Was it from a friend or a lover?”

“Let’s just say... a friend who never became a lover. If I were braver, perhaps it could have happened. When you reach my age, regret will be your biggest fear.” The elderly lady soon bids her farewell but she doesn’t leave without asking Caleb a question. “Young man, you got here quite early. Why did you just stand so far and watch her?”

“I—” The old lady then takes her leave. Caleb finds the right words to say as I look at him. “Well, I’ll get going now,” he says, embarrassment laced in his tone. “Leaving so soon? You haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Correction: I did one thing—I saw you.” As he turns to walk away, you ask him. “It’s getting late; are there still any trains boarding for Skyhaven? ” Caleb doesn’t turn around. “I can catch the last one.” His insistence to leave stung a bit. “Do you want to count how many words you’ve said to me so far?” That’s where he stops.

“We can’t keep doing this forever, Caleb.”

He felt so close yet so far. And whatever is going on between the two of you now has to stop. Because you don’t think either of you could keep this push-and-pull method up. In one second, you’d be close—and in a blink of an eye, you’d be meters apart. It’s enough to make you spiral. He sighs, still not facing you. “I'm just afraid that... It might make you uncomfortable.” That I might make you uncomfortable. 

“If it did, I wouldn’t have asked you to stay, dummy.” Caleb finally turns around; his eyes had an unfamiliar look in them, one that’s full of hope (maybe a mix of yearning too). “Do you want me to stay?” He softly asks.

“If you leave for Skyhaven now, you’ll get home past midnight. You can stay at my place for the night.”

-

“Pepper, please,” Caleb says as he works beside you in your kitchen. You turn to him with the ground pepper on a dish when all of a sudden Caleb sneezes. You laugh at him as he regains himself. “It still makes you sneeze, huh?” 

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” You gave him a dramatic gasp. “I did not! Don't slander your sous chef." 

“I remember when you tried to cook for the first time. I kept hearing your sneezes from the living room.” Caleb chuckles at the memory. “You were kinder back then, offering me tissues, checking up on me. Wonder where that version of you went?” You grab a few tissues from the counter and try to help him wipe his face clean.

But Caleb grabs the tissues from you instead. “I got it,” he says, stepping back and putting some distance between you two. Suddenly, you remember what the old lady said earlier.

“You got here quite early. Why did you just stand so far and watch her?”

He was ready to leave after seeing me, even just for a few minutes. Is he avoiding me?

You don’t want Caleb to avoid you. That’s one of the last things you wanted. It gives you a different type of hurt when Caleb pulls himself from being close to you—especially when you’re used to everything but being far from him. You’re scared of a rift forming between the two of you. What if the worst comes to worst and you...

You don’t want to finish that thought.

Caleb seems to know what’s going on inside your head with your silence hanging in the air. “That's why I don't want to stay,” he suddenly says. “I can’t stand seeing you between a rock and a hard place.”

“...but I don’t feel that way at all.” You move towards your phone to play the playlist Caleb shared with you back then. “You liked these songs, right? ” You gave him a smile. He just nods in return. “Wash your hands; dinner’s ready.” Distant.

That’s what Caleb feels right now—distant. 

And that makes your stomach churn.

-

As you and Caleb ate dinner, your phone started ringing—another voicemail. But from whom? Caleb takes a glance at your lit screen and seems to have noticed the sender’s ID. “Which friend is that? I don’t recall you mentioning him.” You don’t know what tone he’s using for that but he seems suspicious, if anything. “Hey, I heard you encountered a self-aware wanderer earlier today. Don’t forget to tell me about it when you’re free, okay?” the voice of your colleague said.

You flip your phone, not wanting to reply right now but Caleb notices it (of course he did). “Wouldn’t your friend be upset if you don’t reply to him right away? …Are you two close?” Caleb asks. You still don’t have a clue what he’s insinuating with his questions. But he looks quite bothered as his brows are slightly furrowed and his lips are pursed.

“Caleb, that’s a colleague.” You open your phone to show Caleb the proof. “See for yourself.” But Caleb doesn’t even bother looking and slides your phone back to you. “The food is getting cold; we should continue eating.”

The food tasted bland to your senses due to the unexplainable feelings brewing inside of you.

-

“Do you remember what the old lady said earlier?” Caleb asks. Taking a sip from the apple soda in your hand, you sat next to him on the couch. “I saw you were busy with evacuating people, so I didn’t really want to get in the way.”

“but the crowd was gone by two and I saw you at four. So... you arrived earlier than the lady mentioned.” Why didn’t you say so? you wanted to ask. “I guess we don’t have that many topics for small talk now.”

“Yeah. Excuses and lies, however, have seemed to increase. Don't you think? ” Caleb avoids your gaze. “People regret things they didn’t do. But sometimes, they also regret the things they did.” Caleb stays silent before replying. “People are full of contradictions,” he says.

“For a long, long time, I have known what I want.” You. He almost says it right after.

“But what if it causes you pain? If you don’t get any response, would you still go on?”

“Do you really think I haven’t struggled?” Perhaps he was mocking himself or he was mocking your question; you couldn’t point it out. It was your turn to be silent. “I’m well aware of what I’m doing,” Caleb then says.

“What about you? Are you aware?”

Despite sitting close to him, you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. But you could feel Caleb’s gaze burning holes into you.

The rest of the night felt endless to you.

-

As the morning came, Caleb was nowhere to be found.

The blanket that you gave him to use last night lies neatly folded on the side of the couch, and that was the only trace left of his presence. “caleb…?” you call out.

You can’t leave me, not like this. You can’t just leave me without saying goodbye again.

The sudden knock on the door echoed in your apartment. You ran to the door hoping that it was Caleb—and just to your luck, it is. “I knew you’d be up around this hour.” You scan all over his face. There was sweat trickling near his brow and he had a towel wrapped around his neck. “I... I thought you left.”

“I was planning to. But then I remembered that I hadn’t made your breakfast yet so here I am again.”

“Oh… really?”

“Not really.”

What?

Caleb makes his way to your kitchen without another word. You stood blankly by your doorway as you let him in. His demeanor ever since you two reunited again has strangely changed. “What do you want to eat? I’ll do the cooking,” he asks. You snapped out of your thoughts and closed the door. 

“Anything, as long as you make it.”

-

“Did you have trouble sleeping last night?” you asked him while you were in the kitchen.

“I didn’t. I find it hard to sleep when I’m tossing and turning. But I'm used to it,” he replies, washing his hands before grabbing two eggs to crack. the sounds of the kitchen being used mixed with his voice that’s a bit raspy. “Have you never lost sleep over someone before?” Caleb suddenly asked back.

Wait. He says he was used to it… has he always been like this? He was met with silence as you were deep in thought. “Silence is always the best answer; perhaps that’s a no.” You still didn’t utter a word.

Caleb then cracks two eggs in a bowl. “Why aren’t you asking questions now, just like before?” He then grabbed a pair of chopsticks and started mixing them together. “Why didn’t you ask me who kept me up all night?”

“...I don’t want you to have so much on your mind whenever you’re with me.” What does that mean? I’m just spewing nonsense. “You say that as if I don’t want to end this sooner.” The toaster then pops the toasted bread out and you reach towards the cupboard to grab a plate. You set one down and as you were reaching for another one, Caleb’s hand meets yours and holds in place on the cupboard’s handle.

The cupboard shuts closed as he speaks. “Were you... avoiding my question? Were you afraid that I’d say it was you? Or were you scared that I’d say... It wasn’t you?” He says it slowly, emphasizing himself in his questions. “Shouldn’t you be making breakfast? Focus,” you told him, removing your hand from the cupboard above and starting to move away.

But Caleb placed his hand in your way, refusing to let you go. “Are you going to help me or not?” You turn around and now you’re properly facing him with your back against the counter behind you.

He grabs something from your back and reads it out loud. “Soda recipe: 1.5 ounces of apple syrup. Caleb’s favorite type.” He smirked at you as he read it. “So you did learn to make it for me after all. I never hear you say you miss me; do I take this as a sign that you do?” He flips the small piece of paper to show you.

“...whatever makes you happy, I guess.” You push him away by the shoulder and start making your exit from the kitchen. Caleb grabs your wrist before you could leave. He pulls you a bit closer to him, his other hand reaching to cradle your face. “You didn’t sleep that well either last night, did you?” He takes a step forward; you take a step back. It repeats until your back hits a dead end. Crap.

How ironic that you didn’t like how Caleb was running away from you yesterday yet now you’re the one running away from him? Just like a mystic force—a magnet, to be exact—Caleb keeps pulling you in. Again and again and again.

“For whom?”

“For…”

“No rush. Take your time to come up with a reason.” He places your hand on his chest and grabs for an apple from behind you. “but right now... If delicious things aren’t eaten in time, they become stale.”

Time. 

It was always about time, wasn’t it? It makes you wonder if you and Caleb had enough time. You once thought that time ran out for you both once—but now that he’s back... What exactly were you supposed to expect? supposed to do?

Do you indulge in your selfishness and give in to temptation?

Or do you pull away from it?

Caleb nears the apple to your face; you use your other hand to pull it closer but Caleb pulls himself along with it and now the distance between you is even shorter than it was before. You could feel his hand brushing against your hair above your shoulder, holding himself steady as he leans in.

He lowers his hand to hold yours, as you’re the only one holding the apple now. Caleb leans in further and just as your lips were about to touch—

He leans down and bites the apple in your hand instead.

-

The interaction you had with Caleb in your kitchen made you realize that you started looking forward to Caleb’s sudden visits to Lincoln without even realizing it.

“I’m well aware of what I’m doing.” 

“What about you? Are you aware?"

You suddenly get it now.

When you accompany Caleb to the station, you don’t easily leave him alone. It was like when he was in college all over again when you’d follow him because you were afraid he’d get lost (but if you both knew that you were more prone to losing your way sometimes). 

The spare key in your pocket had started to grow warm with how much you fiddled with it. “When will you be visiting Linkon again?” Caleb stays silent at that. “Does your silence mean you don’t want to visit anytime soon...?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if you haven’t even thought of seeing me again, then all those things you said... aren’t really important.” Caleb steps closer and leans down a bit to your eye level. “Look, pipsqueak, I’m not the type to hold back when I like something.” He was right; you knew that fact very well. Caleb sighs before standing up straight again.

“Why would I want to leave when, compared to you, I’m better off acting as if I don’t care?” he says. You lift the spare key from your pocket, hearing the familiar sounds of metal hitting against each other as it shook from the movement. You grabbed Caleb’s hand and laid the warm keys on his palm. 

“Then find a way to come back home.”

His breath hitched at your words.

“You don’t need an excuse to see me, Caleb. You know I’d always welcome you home with open arms.”

He puts the keys in his pocket with a smile before grabbing your shoulders and turning you around. “You should go back now. Let me watch you leave,” he says. You attempted to turn your head back at him in protest but he teasingly used his index finger to stop you. 

“Don’t look back. If you do, it’ll just be harder for me to leave you here.”

SEVENTH: CAN YOU CARRY A LITTLE OF THIS SIN TOO?

The blinding beams of sunlight shone upon you, stirring you awake. Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were currently in a familiar bedroom, and the other side of the bed was empty when you woke up. While your head was slightly pounding, you also had no recollection of what happened the previous night.

You suddenly hear the door creaking open. Shooting a glance at who it could be, you saw a man dressed in some sort of military uniform taking strides towards you. “Huh..?” you say, voice still groggy after just waking up. He puts a hand on your forehead, seemingly checking your temperature. “Your fever’s gone down. Just have some more rest.”

He pulls back slightly, but the distance between you two is still close. “I asked the association if you could take a sick leave. So, whether you want to rest here at home or maybe go outside for a quick walk for the next few days, I’ll be here to keep you company.”

You look at him, confused by what’s happening at the moment. “What are you… talking about? Is this some sort of dream? ” you asked him. The man was taken aback for a bit, but he regains his composure immediately. Sunlight continues to bleed through the window, gently hitting his face. yet his expression...

His expression still seemed like he was getting absorbed by something dark.

“It's okay—it’s okay if you forget,” he says, shifting his gaze on the ground. “Even if you don’t remember anything... I can always say it again.” The man then sits on the bed as you feel the sudden dip in the mattress from his weight. He then gently grabs her hand, rubbing soothing circles across her knuckles while shifting his gaze back to you.

The man thinks for a moment. He doesn’t know which is more agonizing—to forget or to be forgotten?

“I'm Caleb. I’ll always be...” Before you could comprehend the rest of his words, your head started ringing. You reach out to rub your temple as your mind starts to suddenly feel sluggish. it’s as if… something that you should know—or rather, something you shouldn’t forget—was being kept away from you.

What happened?

-

10 days ago.

The announcement through the train station regarding the arrival of the train to Skyhaven echoes as you drag your luggage and take your exit. Looking around, you decided to take a quick picture of a fast food restaurant you saw and send it to Caleb.

(name): [attachment: one image] (name): Guess where I am right now? :P 

Caleb: You’re in Skyhaven?

You turned off your phone and decided to take in your surroundings. It had been two months since you last came to Skyhaven—and the last time you went here was when you secretly infiltrated the farspace fleet to investigate the whereabouts of a fragment of an aether core. 

It had been two months since you saw Caleb again, alive in the flesh.

Entering Caleb’s home from Skyhaven, Caleb speaks. “We can talk about the work stuff later. You should cancel your hotel reservation first. and then...” His voice trails off as he looks like he was considering something.

Caleb then spreads out his arms at you. “And then… what?” You tilt your head in confusion. “You know what I mean.” A smile paints itself on your lips as soon as you realize what he meant. Walking closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face against his chest.

“I missed you, Caleb.”

“Welcome home.” 

-

The air is suddenly filled with a sound—something flies by. Caleb uses his evol to stop a bullet in front of his forehead as a mist blocks her view.

"Get under cover!” Realizing he’s the target, you urged him. He stopped you as you reached for your revolver and attempted to drag him to safety. Caleb simply said, "There's no point in hiding," after glancing at his palm. This is only the initial action.

He notices that the true target is somewhere else—this had been a diversion—as officers recover control of the situation. He looks toward the alpha and beta fleet bases, his hand clenched. Caleb asks that you remain behind and is about to call Liam for assistance when you stop him. “I'm your best option; you can't trust anyone else, Caleb."

Caleb pauses. "They have taken over one of the bases. I have dispatched individuals to the alpha base. Please check the beta base for me.” For a minute, your eyes meet. He nods after he pauses. "Liam will accompany you."

"Please be careful," he tells you.

“You too,” she answers.

Yet doubt seems to have clouded your mind and you find yourself asking Caleb before you left. "Caleb, you really need me for this, right?" he answers with a simple "yes."

It was pouring tonight.

As the takeover turns out to be a hoax, you could observe now that you realized Caleb made you leave to protect you. Why does it feel like we’re back to square one? More than a dozen planes pierce the night sky as they race across it.

"Are those reinforcements for Caleb?" you asked Liam, Caleb’s adjutant.

"Making you leave was for the best," Liam replies. When you realized that he knew everything, you felt nauseous and angry that Caleb forced you to leave. "The colonel can only put his trust in you, but your presence would influence his choices. Please don't hold this against him," Liam adds.

Despite your desire, you were unable to hold it against him. Caleb was just being overprotective. “Liam, you’re Caleb’s adjutant. Do you trust him?” you couldn’t help but ask. “I don’t need the colonel’s trust. I only need his orders.”

“So if he orders you to leave your loved ones, you’d do it?”

“That's precisely why I can stand by his side and serve him.”

You almost scoff at his answer. “If the chip were placed inside of me, how would Caleb react? "You then ask Liam. “He would do anything to get rid of it, but you don’t have to put yourself through the pain,” Liam responds.

As Liam bid his farewell with a salute and started to make his way back, you were now alone. You don’t get it. Why does it feel like nothing actually changed? Like all your efforts from getting close to him before were a waste? You just wanted to help him. You could fight—you’re a hunter for fuck’s sake! 

But every time you were dispatched into Skyhaven, you felt so useless at your job.

The toring chip you stole from Caleb’s office is still hidden in your shoe with the implanter. With one simple press, the remaining distance between you and Caleb would be gone. “You don’t have to put yourself through the pain.” Liam’s words echo in your head. Maybe it’s a bit too late for you to say that, Liam. Because I have already made my decision.

Perhaps to love is to share the pain with them, even if they push you away.

-

The implantation was swift. You felt weak as you sat on the bench. Imagining Caleb’s reaction if he ever found out what you just did sends a nasty chill down your spine. This will be your secret to bear alone. If Caleb had his own secrets from you, then you would have yours. After all, that’s only fair, isn’t it?

“I have never kept a secret from you, not even once. and I don’t plan on doing so anytime soon.”

Just how ironic do his words get even more? He made an unspoken promise of never keeping a secret from you. But ever since you two reunited in Skyhaven… that’s all that he’s been doing.

You then hear footsteps pattering against the rain puddles on the ground, and the rain above you stops. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere; why didn’t you go back home? ” Caleb heard softly asks you. You look up to him. “Liam shouldn’t have left you alone in the street.”

“I walked here by myself. It has nothing to do with him.” Caleb was always good at finding you whenever you played hide and seek. and you would always go home together after playing. but this time... You don’t want to go back to the place he called “home” with him. 

You point out the Asiatic apple trees to him, eyes admiring the slowly falling petals dragged by the rain. Caleb then recalls the Asiatic apple trees he’d see back in the train station in Linkon (they were always in bloom whenever you sent him off). “I didn’t know you liked Asiatic apples,” he then says.

“I don’t. because Asiatic apple flowers take you away from me, and I don’t like that.” 

“No one can take me away from you.”

The dead and odorless trees serve as a quiet reflection of Caleb's own personality: aloof, stern, and unrelenting. Caleb softly asks you once more, "Come back home with me." Your voice is tinged with defiance as you look up to face him. “How long will you keep me imprisoned now? "

His voice cracks with a subtle anguish as his eyes drop to the hairpin in her palm. He gently grabs it from you and pins it back on your head. "I'll spend my entire life looking for solutions if each problem drives me farther away from you, but until that final moment, we’ll always be together.”

"What will you do if people come looking for me?" she says.

Caleb doesn’t think twice. “In that case, I’ll hold a funeral they can attend. so they’ll think you’ll be gone forever. “Let’s go back home; you might catch a cold.” He extends his hand towards you, and you accept it. But you refuse to move when he tries to guide you away. Caleb shoots you a deadly and stern look. You pull Caleb down to your level, your lips exactly by his ear.

“Don’t you find it funny that you’re worried about me catching a cold after discussing my fucking funeral? ” you whisper. Caleb pulls back, “So if I don’t show concern, does that mean it’s not genuine? Is that it? ”

a hand reaches up to your face. “You can’t convince yourself to hate me with every fiber of your being. Wouldn’t you agree? ” His hand travels from your cheek to the back of your head, pushing you towards his chest. “I’ll eventually find a way to make things right... as long as... you’re by my side.”

“...Caleb, I hate it when you’re like this.” But you know that you could never hate him. Wrapping your arms around him, you whisper in his ear again. “but I hate it more when you’re always able to make me change my mind.”

His breath hitches at that and Caleb lets himself fall weak to his knees. “i’m… sorry. I just feel like... I don’t know how to take care of you anymore.” His voice breaks and you could feel him weaken against your touch. You reached for Caleb’s face, panic rising inside of you. “Caleb? Caleb, what’s wrong? ” His eyes started to become half-lidded and he looked at you in a daze.

Caleb collapses on your shoulder, his hat slowly sliding away from his head. He replies with a groan, and his voice is evidently weaker. “Let’s... go home.” 

Raindrops cascade down his face, and the colonel’s vision fades into black. 

-

You couldn't trust anyone in the fleet, so you exerted all of your strength to get him home. You two collapse into Caleb's bed together, your bodies heavy with fatigue. and your eyes follow the tiny, scarlet veins beneath his skin as you stare at him.

A cold, mechanical voice reverberates around the room. “Warning... Emotional fluctuations have surpassed the threshold limit…” Caleb looks like he’s going through a nightmare, yanking his collar off as he mumbles to himself. “Don’t… take her away…” he pleads. You reassure him that you aren’t going to leave, though you have a faint doubt that it would work.

“Commencing chip activation process... Executing mandatory erasure... of neurons...” the machine’s voice continues. Mandatory erasure? No, no, no, no—Caleb sweats, his body spasming as it fights against something far beyond his control.

With a horrible shock, you understand that this is exactly the same as what Kevi experienced when you last visited him in the garden. You shake and scramble desperately, looking for a button on his body to put an end to the chaos. 

You can’t take him away, not again. Don’t take him away from me. Tears slightly blurred your vision as you searched for a button that might not even exist in the first place. You just wanted his pain to stop.

Caleb suddenly opens his eyes, and you are shoved back onto the bed. “Ow—Caleb! ”

Above your head, he pulls your wrists and presses them on something rigid and cold. yet it feels more like a machine's grip than his hand. “Why are you struggling? ” he asks, his voice laced with confusion. “Are you scared of me? Do I feel like a stranger to you? ”

"Program... complete,” the machine said.

“How could you possibly understand... my guilt and sin...” he whispers. And then he collapses onto you.

You slept next to Caleb for the night but the nightmares about him returned.

-

The morning after he fainted, Caleb was sitting in the living room, staring at something.

Discreetly, you approached him and put your palm to his forehead to feel the warmth of his skin. Your fingers move to his right arm and give it a light squeeze. "Are you feeling better?" you asked. 

He glances up at you. Caleb whispers, "I noticed you lying next to me when I woke up this morning." He's staring at a picture on the coffee table when you spot it. Your heart hurts as you lift it up. It was a picture of you kissing his cheek when he graduated from the Aerospace Academy.

With a gentle touch, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear after brushing it from your temple. “So…” After tracing your jaw and raising your chin, his fingers then lightly touch your cheek. “Who are you?” he asks in a low voice, as if he's looking for something he lost.

Caleb appears to be soulless, his memories erased. He no longer even recognizes himself. He continues speaking, "I remember the way you made me feel," with a hint of emotion in his voice. From under his collar, he retrieves the necklace. He looks at you and says, "I remember you gave me this. Were we... close like this?"

You didn’t know how to answer that.

Your relationship with him couldn’t be described in just simple words. But the thought strikes you like lightning in your mind—Caleb will believe anything you say. Let me be selfish just this once. Let me have this opportunity while it’s presented in front of me.

“You’re the most important person to me, and I’m the most important person to you.”

“Caleb, I’m the only one in this world who truly knows you.” You then continue. He repeats what you said, making it sink into him. “you’ll never leave me.” You can’t leave me. “Just like... the vines that cling to a tree. We shared a part of our lives with each other. So, we’ll never be apart.”

He looks at you, eyes filled with guilt. “I'm sorry. I can’t remember anything.”

“It's okay if you can’t remember right now. I’ll always be here for you.” You pull him into a tight hug, your lips near his earlobe. 

“Just like what you’ve always done for me.”

-

Caleb, who is now suffering from amnesia, was a blank page in a book that you thought you could write anything you wanted on (if anyone was going to rewrite him, it’s going to be you, and only you). You kept everything hidden from him—his phone, clothes, communication device—anything that could disturb him from this dream.

Three days later, it appeared that you had both fallen into a dreamy, infantile state. Like when you initially met in the shelter, the world outside these walls held no significance for them.

The amusement bustled with excitement. However, the excitement of the rides quickly made you feel sick. Caleb asked out loud, "Is it safe for you to hunt the deepspace when you're like this?" as he watched you anxiously. Holding the ice cream he had just purchased, he crouched next to you.

“Deepspace hunters don’t actually hunt in deep space,” said you, who was still recuperating. A little perplexed, Caleb questioned again, "So what am I?”

You extended your arm to hook her index finger onto his. A smile tugged across your lips as you answered, "You're the deepspace hunter's sidekick."

Sitting on a train ride offered by the amusement park, your watch vibrated as your eyes started to close shut. It was a reminder that the association needed an update and that your task was due in three days.

Caleb gave you a quick glance while wearing a knowing expression. He taunted, "You took my phone, so I'll take away your watch." Caleb noticed the little shift in your demeanor as your face fell at the idea. “You don’t like the sound of that?"

You only gave a mute shake of your head. “I never knew your hands were so big,” you then say, smoothly changing the topic. Caleb lets you play with his fingers as you rub and tug around them. He takes his as a chance to interlock his fingers with yours. “We’re both grown-ups now, huh?” you then say.

“Yeah. Does that mean we can finally do all the things we used to want to do but couldn’t before? ” He leans closer.

“We couldn’t do? Or do you mean things we wouldn’t dare to do? ” Challenging him, you also lean closer. 

“What if I dare? What would you do?” 

His face is so close. you thought. You could feel the heat rushing through your ears; your head started to throb again. “Prove it.” He feigns hurt in his expression. “I thought everything I did was proof of my sincerity?” 

Caleb proceeds to press his forehead against yours. Your heart hammers against your chest and your hands are still interlocked. Boundaries were being crossed; lines were being blurred out. Your mind becomes hazy with everything that’s happening. and to top it all off—

“I like you,” Caleb whispers.

In this moment, you realize—everything has changed. You’ll be his and he’ll be yours. All you knew since yesterday is that everything has changed.

You see the aircraft from the fleet approaching, and the end of the sweet dream was coming way too quick for your liking. “Caleb, let’s go home.” You urged him—he refused. You try to hop off of the moving train yet with a blink of an eye, Caleb is holding your wrist again. 

“Where did this come from? the chip?” he asks.

No—it can’t be over just yet. please. Let me be selfish for a little while more.

You could see Caleb’s lips moving yet a piercing ring takes over your eardrums, drowning his voice out. “They’re here, Caleb. They—they can’t. They can’t take you... away from me...” Your body feels weaker as pain crashes repeatedly into you in waves.

Everything fades into black after that.

-

You never liked Caleb wearing that fucking uniform. Because every time that he does, he’s like a different person. You don’t recognize the Caleb that wears the colonel’s uniform. 

Yet here he is, standing before you dressed in that goddamn uniform, his expression unreadable. Is he mad? Definitely. Are you going to die tonight? Maybe. Do you mind Caleb being the one who wields the gun at your death? …Not really. If anything, it’s better that you die by his hands.

“You remember everything, don’t you?” He doesn’t answer; you press on further. “When? when we were at the amusement park? Or was it before that?” Was him losing memories even real in the first place?

“I haven’t even asked my questions yet. When did you get that Turing chip implanted?” The unwelcomed yet familiar waves of pain surge through your head; you bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming. Caleb removes his glove on one hand and rubs his thumb over your swollen lip. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

His expression remains unreadable. “You should rest. The surgery is being prepared and the pain will be over soon.”

“Caleb... Ever since we reunited, have you been enduring all of this? Why didn’t you tell me?” You didn’t have the strength to use your voice so you could only whisper to him. Caleb replies in a softer voice—it’s as if seeing you like this torments him (it does, and maybe he’ll finally understand why you did it in the first place). “If telling you the truth means watching you willingly get caught up in this mess...”

“Then I never would’ve shown up in your life again.” The glint in his eyes shows desperation.

“I don’t understand... They changed you. They treat you like a pawn and make you do all of those awful deeds. But—but you belong to me! You’re mine—you're the person I cherish the most—how could they do this to you?”

Caleb doesn’t reply to that. He insists that you rest but you broke free from your restraints before he could stop you. You get up and stumble towards the door but your legs can only bring you there as your vision becomes unsteady. Caleb is pulling you away from the door and towards the bed you were restrained on earlier. “Let go of me!” you shout, pulling his hand and biting hard on it.

However, he pulls you into his arms and keeps you there instead of letting go. His voice is firm yet gentle as he carries you back to the bed. “In order to prevent you from biting your tongue when you had a fever when we were kids, I let you bite my hand. Do you remember that? You gave me such a severe bite that the mark lingered for two weeks.” He chuckles at the memory. “I always wanted to settle the score with you when we got older.”

Your expression is determined and keen as you look at him. “This time, I’ll be the one who’s going to settle the score.” You straddle him and push him down without saying anything more. A glint of amusement shines in his eyes at your actions.

“What do you want?”

You lean closer to him, your ear almost resting by his chest. Your fingers trace the edges of his uniform. “I want to peel open your heart to see what secrets are hidden within.” He watches your finger slide down. You then grab his chin and make him look at you. “As the farspace fleet’s colonel, you haven’t been put into a trial like this, have you?”

“A trial? What are you accusing me of?" He plays along. 

“You… You killed my Caleb.” Your voice breaks. You lean in closer, lips being only centimeters apart. But you pull away, tugging and discarding the layers of his uniform instead. “The Caleb in this uniform... I don’t like it…” you say, fighting back the tears from blurring your vision. You wanted Caleb gone in that uniform. You wanted the old Caleb back in your arms.

Just where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was the explosion that triggered everything that has changed. The Caleb that you grew up with, the one that you knew—the one that you loved—feels like a stranger to you. It is only when he’s out of the thick layers of his uniform that you could recognize that maybe—just maybe—this is the Caleb that you love.

Caleb doesn’t stop you from what you’re doing. Instead, he caresses your face, his touch being warm against your cheek. “Good girl,” he whispers. “You should get some sleep now, pipsqueak,” he says a bit louder this time. You gave him a kiss on his forehead and he avoided your gaze right after.

“Look at you; you’re like a sinner who’s confessing.” Caleb holds your hand and presses a soft kiss to your fingertips. Your hands that he had always wanted to hold without reason—perhaps it was his time to become a bit selfish now.

“Then can you carry a little of this sin too? Don’t leave me in this loneliness any longer.”

You feel yourself losing your balance above Caleb. The pain that was throbbing in your head ever since earlier has intensified tenfold, leaving you to go limp.

“It’ll be just like when we were kids. You’ll wake up and you won’t be in any pain or remember any trace of it.”

-

The blinding beams of sunlight shone upon you, stirring you awake. Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were currently in a familiar bedroom and the other side of the bed was empty when you woke up. 

You suddenly hear the door creaking open. Shooting a glance at who it could be, you recognized the man dressed in some sort of military uniform as he takes strides towards you. “Huh..?” You say, voice still groggy after just waking up. You shield your eyes from the glaring sunlight and the dust particles being visible in the air. Caleb raises his hand to do so instead.

Caleb… just what happened to us?

“I asked the association if you could take a sick leave. So, whether you want to rest here at home or maybe go outside for a quick walk for the next few days, I’ll be here to keep you company.”

You look at him, confused by what’s happening at the moment. Your eyes then trail down to a peeking mark below his cuff. “Is that... a bite mark? Caleb, what—what happened? ” you asked him. Caleb hesitates to answer the question. Sunlight continues to bleed through the window, gently hitting his face. yet his expression...

His expression still seemed like he was in sorrow.

“It's okay if you forget. You should eat something first,” he says, grabbing a bowl of porridge after he helps you sit up on the bed. After a few spoons, you didn’t feel like eating anymore. As Caleb rises to put the bowl away, anxiety hits you as you grab his sleeve. “Where are you going?” 

“I'm just putting the bowl away.” Caleb looked like he was about to say something else but refused to do so. “Don’t worry. I won’t go anywhere until you fall asleep,” he reassures you.

“Caleb... You’ll always stay by my side, right?” you asked him in return.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You tugged on the collar of his uniform, pulling him into the bed with you as you straddled him. The scene feels familiar to Caleb—almost. Your fingers trail down his neck, tracing his Adam’s apple before pressing gently on the center of his collarbone. “I wonder if I should put a bell around your neck. That way, you won’t be able to escape. What do you think?”

You didn’t forget anything ever since you implanted the toring chip inside of you. You remembered every single story you had to come up with on the spot for Caleb. You remembered Caleb whispering, “I like you,” on the train—how comfortable the breeze was while you were both in the amusement park.

But the amusement park is now closed.

EIGHTH: TO LOVE IS TO INDULGE YOURSELF IN SELFISHNESS.

Caleb rarely gets sick.

You were the sickly type between the two of you—always catching yourself a cold or a fever so easily. And every time you got sick, Caleb was always there beside you. He didn’t hesitate to help Gran back then when it came to making you feel better. He’s the one who usually monitors your temperature; he’s the one who really makes sure that you have taken your medications. You don’t seem to recall that many memories where Caleb gets sick.

But now... you’re here, against the door to his bedroom, helpless at the fact that Caleb is hiding himself from you because he has a fever. You keep knocking on his door, thinking that maybe being persistent would do the trick. “I haven’t finished reading a book and I think I left it there, Caleb.” You lied, still trying to get him to open the door.

Shuffling was then heard from inside and Caleb shoved the book into your chest. “Take it and stop knocking, pip-squeak.” You try to pry yourself into his room with the gap made by him from opening the door but it is no use. But the close distance with Caleb’s body easily helps you in finding out his current state.

“Caleb, you’re burning!” He stops you and takes your hand when you attempt to touch his forehead. “I’ve taken some medication. I’ll be fine, pips.” 

“At least leave the door unlocked; let me take care of you this time.” 

“Have you ever seen me be defeated by something as small as this? I can handle it,” he replies, though his voice sounds raspy as he speaks. “With the state of your voice now, that doesn’t sound very reassuring,” you say back. “Don’t you have other stuff to do? Focus on that.” 

“What? Hey—Caleb!” The door slams shut in front of your face.

Fine then. Let’s see how long you can handle this tough guy act up.

-

You ponder unsuccessfully throughout the afternoon how to persuade him to open the door. But in the end, you chose to prepare a meal for him. It’s the first time he’s stayed home, and you’re taking care of things around the house. You ended up making porridge and knocking on his bedroom door.

“Caleb? I made some porridge. Do you want some?”

No response. 

You then lie, claiming that you got scratched by a stray cat while you left for a quick walk earlier. “I’m pretty sure you said stray cats always welcomed you with open paws. Remember to review your past lies before you tell a new one next time.” You hear him from the door. You knock harder against his door. “If you don’t unlock the door, I swear I’ll pick this goddamn lock.”

OTTO suddenly appears next to you. “Here’s a friendly reminder. When you’re asking for help, you should gently approach them,” the artificial intelligence says. Is that directed at me or is it directed at Caleb? But OTTO is right. Taking a deep breath, you ask Caleb from the other side of his bedroom door again.

“Caleb… what are you afraid of?”

You hear a click as you place the tray on the floor. At last, he opens the door. You immediately head inside his bedroom with the tray of porridge and check on his condition immediately. “I told you, I’m fine,” he then says. His voice sounded a bit better now—but it was still evident that he was sick. “How was I supposed to believe that when you keep locking yourself in here?”

He lets out a chuckle that has self-mockery in it. “How can I keep the tough guy act if I let you see me like this?”

“You should eat this porridge first and then take your medications for your fever after. Where’s your thermometer? Let’s check your temp,” you say, stirring the porridge. “While I’m used to you being bossy, I don’t really feel like playing along today.” You take his temperature anyway. 

39.2 degrees Celsius. It’s still high.

“Your fever is still high. You should—” Caleb then cuts you off. “It was better this morning. I honestly feel like a champ right now.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re a fucking champ for acting tough; I’ll give you that one.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

“Oh, so now you want to talk about this? Do you really want me to answer that question, Caleb?”

He begins recalling all the times he fulfilled his promises to you back in the past. You stop him before he could continue further. “Enough, Caleb. You said you’d never hurt me—you promised me that.”

“Do you feel like everything I do is supposed to hurt you?” he asks.

Not really. “Your inability to believe that I can protect myself hurts me. Your refusal to let me share your burdens with you hurts me. You hurting and letting yourself feel the pain indirectly hurts me too. And lastly, you pushing yourself away—that’s what hurts me the most.” Caleb stays silent at that.

“If you think I’m wrong, then you’re free to correct me, Caleb.” His attention was then on the bowl of porridge placed on your lap, waiting to be taken by him. Caleb doesn’t correct you from your earlier statement.

-

He takes deep breaths as you both stay silent in his bed.

Caleb is someone you can’t be any more familiar with. You’ve known him your life—yet why is it possible that he still feels like a stranger to you sometimes? “Pips, I have to tell you something,” he then says. “I’m listening,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry that I upset you. You were just trying to help and I…” He seems like he couldn’t finish that sentence so you do it for him. “You were scared, right? Scared that I’ll see your weakness.” Your hand lies on top of Caleb’s chest as it heaves up and down. “You wanna see my weakness? Well, now you have.” Caleb’s ears turn red at that. “Are your ears red because of your fever?” You ask, reaching a hand to touch his earlobe. “Let’s go with that.” 

You cup his cheek to check his temperature again. There was something different in Caleb’s gaze—like it was full of admiration. Softness. Love. Your other hand reaches up to cup his other cheek, pulling him forward so you can put your forehead against his.

Flashbacks of when you and Caleb had your foreheads like this flash in your mind. Once while you were nine; once while you were fifteen; once back in the old store you recently helped in. “You’re still not showing me your weakness, Caleb.” you whisper before pulling away. Your soft breath tingles his nose as his breath hitches at your short distance.

He puts a hand against your mouth as he leans back in slowly. But Caleb quickly pulls himself away before anything could happen.

“I never hid anything from you. But you have—in fact, you hid a lot of things from me. Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?” How many secrets can you keep? Caleb looks away from your gaze before replying. “I can’t have any weaknesses. Then you’ll feel safe in relying on me.”

“But I don’t want to stand behind you—I want to stand beside you, Caleb.” He smiles at that. He places your hand on his chest. His heartbeat beats out a steady rhythm. “Do you feel it? This is my weakness. She’s here. For a long time, she’s been here.” 

Caleb…

“I’m afraid that if you see me at my lowest, you won’t believe I can always protect you.” He soon admits, his voice a bit quieter than it was earlier. Your eyes trace every feature that it could take in. “A lot of people say the knife that hurts the most isn’t wielded by your enemies. The people closest to you have it. We’re the closest people to each other. We’d never hurt each other.”

“Are you afraid that I’ll hurt you?”

“Do you think that you could hurt me like this?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he cups your cheek, fingers rubbing your cheekbone. “I want you to stay here. Stay with me. Please, spend the next hundred years with me.” He sounds restrained—like he was still holding himself back.

Even in the most vulnerable and precious moments together, Caleb is still holding himself back from it—especially when it could be more. “I…” you trail off.

Maybe to love him is to ignore the boundaries—to give in to the temptation. 

“I love you, Caleb.”

His eyes widen at your confession. He could feel his face and ears burning up again. Caleb’s eyes never leave yours as it drowns itself in your gaze. He looks like he was looking for some proof that it was just a dream—that he’ll just wake up (or perhaps he was waiting for you to take it back). Caleb was speechless.

“I have always loved you. But as we grew older, the love changed. Everything has changed. Our careers, our lives, and our decisions. I held myself back at first, knowing that we might regret it, risking something so sacred between us. But as time went by, I started becoming selfish. I… I just started to indulge myself. And then I started wanting more—but I couldn’t exactly get more now.” You chuckled at that.

“I’ll probably regret this tomorrow morning. But I honestly just can’t keep it to myself anymore. Because I love you, Caleb. I love you so much that maybe, just maybe, if I loved you any less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

Caleb doesn’t reply to your confession in words.

He replies in actions.

A hand gently grabs the nape of your neck; you could feel his hand trembling against your skin as he does. His hands feel warm—whether it was due to his fever or not, you have no clue—and his touch is as gentle as it always is whenever he touches you. Slowly pulling you in, it finally happens.

You finally feel what Caleb’s lips are like as they press gently against yours. 

He pulls away, not letting it last any longer. Straddling him in the process so you could be more comfortable, he stares at you in a daze. You pull him in again for another kiss. And another. And then another. The pressure of his lips against yours felt electrifying as your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands found themselves on your waist. There was a slight push and pull going on as your shadows, as reflected by the moonlight, blended into one.

When you finally pull away from Caleb, that’s when he decides to speak. “I… I think about you all the time. I long to see and be close to you. I can hardly sleep because I miss you. There’s this longing I can barely contain, and I fear it’s going to drown me. But perhaps that’s okay—because that would mean I’m drowning in you.”

“I love you too,” he finally says.

To love Caleb is to be selfish.

[violetwifey]

𝑼𝒏𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒅

𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ synopsis:

roomate!vi helps reader to untangle knots in their hair and even braids it 💗

Today was one of the worst days you’ve ever had. You find out that you’ve failed a test you spent 2 solid weeks to work on. Your mom calls you to lecture you on how you rarely come home during the weekends. Some idiot sitting beside you in class would not stop chewing his gum so loudly. The list goes on.

You were so relieved to finally be walking back to the dorm— eager to wash the day off with a hot shower and lay in bed as you eat some hot ramen, watching your comfort show till you fall asleep.

The door opened with a creak as you stepped inside. You took off your shoes to put it on the shoe rack. As usual, you saw Vi— your roommate— doing her workout in the living room. Normally you would tease her— telling her how she cares way too much about her body, or how she was slacking a little. But you had no mood for any of that today.

So instead, you walked straight to your room. Vi found that suspicious. She looked up at your closed door while doing her last set of pushups but decided that you were probably just tired and needed some time alone.

But then she heard it when coming out of the shower.

A sharp, frustrated noise. Followed by the sound of the brush hitting the vanity. Then another frustrated grunt. Then—

A muffled sob.

Vi’s reaction was immediate, her body moving before her mind caught up. She pushed open the door, and the sight before her broke her heart. You sat in front of the mirror, wrapped in a bathrobe, damp hair wetting the back of it. Your hands trembled as you tried to push the brush through the tangles of your hair.

When it didn’t work, you put more force. The more you struggled the rougher you got. Your shoulders were shaking, your eyes glassy with tears.

Then, with a sharp inhale, you snapped. “Why won’t you just—” Your voice cracked as you yanked the brush harder, only for it to snag painfully. “God, I hate this—I hate everything—”

Vi didn’t think. She just moved.

She was at your side in a heartbeat, gently prying the brush from your fingers before you could hurt yourself anymore. “Hey, hey, stop,” she murmured. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep going like that.”

You wanted to yell at her. Scream for her to just leave you alone. But when she said, “Lemme do it”, in the most softest voice you’ve ever heard from her, you couldn’t find it in you to protest.

She crouched behind you, one knee pressed into the floor, her hands hovering just above your shoulders as if giving you the chance to say no. And when you stayed silent, she took it as permission and gently gathered your hair in her hands, separating it into manageable sections.

“Just relax, yeah pretty?” she murmured, her breath warm against your neck.

The first touch of the brush was so different from how you’d been handling it—so careful. She started at the very ends, working through each tangle slowly, making sure not to tug too hard. When she hit a particularly stubborn knot, she didn’t yank like you had in frustration. Instead, she worked through it with her fingers first, twisting the strands apart with delicate precision before running the brush through again.

“You gotta be gentle,” she said, almost to herself. “Your hair’s just mad at you for manhandling it.”

You let out a weak laugh, but your eyes burned with fresh tears. Not from frustration this time, but from how impossibly tender she was being.

She kept going, section by section, brushing in slow, careful strokes. Every once in a while, she’d smooth her palm over your hair, as if to soothe both you and the strands she was tending to.

“There we go,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “Not so bad when you take your time, huh?”

You nodded wordlessly, too overwhelmed to speak.

She paused, setting the brush down for a moment, and you thought she was done—until she ran her fingers through your hair, combing through the strands with a softness you’d never expected from someone like Vi.

“Better?” she asked, her voice still quiet, still careful.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah… better.”

Vi hummed, satisfied, and then—before you could brace yourself—she stood and wrapped her arms around your shoulders from behind, pulling you into her chest.

Vi’s arms were warm around you, and the weight of her presence was steady, comforting. You could still feel the dampness in your eyes, but the raw, exposed feeling that had been gnawing at your chest was slowly starting to fade. It was as though Vi’s gentle hands had somehow untangled more than just your hair.

She pulled back just slightly, giving you space but still holding you close enough that her presence was unshakeable. You glanced at the mirror in front of you, your hair finally free of tangles and knots, now soft and shiny.

“Better?” she asked again when she noticed that your tears stopped coming, her voice still low and careful.

“Yeah,” you breathed, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You felt embarrassed, but at the same time, you couldn’t ignore the tenderness Vi had shown. “Actually… could you, uh… could you braid it?”

Vi raised an eyebrow, but there was a small, surprised smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You want me to braid your hair?”

You nodded, a little hesitant but somehow trusting her. “Please? I don’t know… it might make me feel a little better.”

Vi studied you for a moment, and just as quickly, her smile softened. She reached for the brush again, setting it aside on the table, before bringing a chair, moving to sit behind you.

“Alright,” she said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Let’s see what I can do.”

Her fingers brushed through your hair one more time, gathering the strands with ease. There was no rush, no teasing, just a calm rhythm as she worked her way through, braiding your hair with careful concentration.

The feeling of her hands in your hair, so skilled yet gentle, made you relax even further. The tension in your shoulders melted away with each smooth tug of the braid. It was intimate—more so than any teasing moment you’d shared—and something about it felt… different.

When she was done, she tied the end with an elastic and gently tugged at the braid to make sure it was secure.

“How’s that?” she asked, her tone soft but still with that playful edge.

You reached up, feeling the braid resting against your neck, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. “It’s perfect, Vi. Thank you.”

She paused for a moment, and you caught a glimpse of something warm in her eyes, something that wasn’t teasing or sarcastic. Just… warmth.

“Anytime, pretty,” she said, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Next time, you’re not handling it all by yourself, alright?”

You nodded, your chest full for the first time in a while. “Alright. Next time… I won’t.”

And in that moment, with the comfort of her hands in your hair, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

i'm alive <3

anyways, this is day 187629843 of questioning the universe why vi isn't real.

also, i really want arcane friends in this app, cus none of my friends watch it in real life even when i suggested for them to watch this masterpiece. one of them even said they found it boring. the audacity? but to each their own...ig?? their loss! 😛

[aspenmissing]

ᴛᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜʀɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 5985 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ: ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ 1 || ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ 2

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

JAYCE

It had been a long day. The city of Piltover had a rhythm to it, a constant hum of activity that never seemed to fade, even as the night began to settle over the skyline. Jayce had just returned to their shared apartment after a series of meetings, his expression tired but his eyes still alight with the spark of determination. Yet, as soon as he entered, his attention was drawn to Y/N.

She sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the ceiling, her face creased with worry and exhaustion. He could see it in her posture, the way she fidgeted with her hands, the way her shoulders were tense and hunched, as though she were carrying the weight of the world. Her mind was a whirlwind, and he knew it had been like this for hours. No amount of distraction seemed to ease her troubled thoughts.

"Hey," Jayce called softly as he approached her, kneeling in front of her, his voice low and gentle, the weariness of the day already evident in his tone. "What's going on? You’ve been restless for a while now."

Y/N sighed deeply, not even needing to look at him to know he was there. She just felt it—the steady presence of Jayce, always so solid and reliable. Her voice, when it came, was small and strained. "I can't... I just can't shut it off, Jayce. My mind is racing, and I can’t get comfortable. Everything from today, tomorrow, all of it. It feels like it's just running in circles in my head."

Jayce's brow furrowed with concern, and he reached out, placing a hand gently on her knee. His fingers were warm against her skin, a contrast to the chill of the night air, and she felt a small comfort in that. "I see. You’ve been carrying a lot lately, haven't you?" He continued, voice softer now, like a quiet reassurance in the midst of a storm. "It's okay to feel like this sometimes."

She nodded, her lips trembling slightly as she fought back the urge to cry. "I’m trying. But it’s... too much sometimes."

The vulnerability in her voice made his heart ache, and without hesitation, Jayce took her hand in his, pulling her up gently from the couch. His touch was firm but tender, as if he could feel every inch of her anxiety and was determined to help her shed it, piece by piece.

"Come here," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. His fingers laced through hers as he guided her toward the bedroom and onto the bed, his presence already making her feel safer, more secure. The tension in her chest began to loosen, just a little, as she followed him.

=

Once they were lying together under the soft blankets, Jayce wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against him. She nestled into him, her head resting against his chest, where she could hear the steady, calming beat of his heart. His presence was like a weight lifting off her chest, the softness of the blankets, the warmth of his skin—everything about him felt like home. Yet, still, her mind was in turmoil. Thoughts about the future, about things she couldn't control, and doubts she couldn't silence.

Jayce sensed it immediately and spoke softly against her hair. "Focus on me, Y/N," he whispered, his voice low and steady. "Let everything else fade. Close your eyes, love. Let me help you forget for a little while."

Her breath hitched as she closed her eyes, her body still tense despite his calming words. His fingers trailed up and down her back in slow, rhythmic movements, his touch like a silent promise that she wouldn’t have to face her worries alone. The gentle, comforting strokes began to work their magic, easing the tension in her muscles, drawing her away from the noise of her mind. His hands were steady and firm, never rushed, never pushing her to let go faster than she was ready.

As her body relaxed further, Jayce leaned down, brushing his lips against her temple in the softest kiss. The warmth of his lips on her skin was a balm for her racing thoughts, grounding her. His kisses came in soft, gentle waves, each one pulling her closer to the peace she craved. He kissed her forehead, then the top of her nose, and finally her lips. His kisses were slow, deliberate, almost like he was memorizing the feel of her under his touch.

With each kiss, she felt herself surrendering, her body finally unwinding into him. The quiet pressure of his lips, the gentle pressure of his hands, the rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear—it all felt like an unspoken promise that she was safe with him, that nothing would hurt her while she was in his arms.

Her breath slowed, each inhale and exhale in sync with Jayce’s as he continued to kiss her, his touch as tender as ever. His lips were soft but firm, each kiss reassuring her that she wasn’t alone, that there was no need to hold onto the weight of the world anymore. Slowly, his kisses became more insistent, a quiet desperation in his touch, a plea for her to let go, to rest.

He kissed her eyelids, brushing his lips over the delicate skin there, before moving back to her lips. This time, the kiss was deeper, softer, as if he was pouring all of his care and affection into it, coaxing her to relax further, to trust that she didn’t have to keep everything inside.

As her body started to respond, her breath becoming more even, her shoulders dropping their tightness, she realized she was floating—drifting away from the worries that had consumed her earlier. The tension melted completely, leaving only the warm, comforting embrace of Jayce's arms. She felt herself sinking deeper into him, feeling as though she were floating in a safe, peaceful space where only the two of them existed.

"You’re okay, love," Jayce murmured, his voice a soft, steady whisper in the quiet room. "Sleep now."

His words were like a final lullaby, a promise that he would be there when she woke, a steady force in her life no matter what happened. She pressed herself closer to him, feeling the final remnants of tension slip away. One last kiss, tender and full of affection, was placed upon her lips, and as his lips lingered just a moment longer, she finally let herself fall into a peaceful slumber.

The noise of the world outside faded to nothing. The only sounds that remained were the soft rhythm of their breathing, the steady pulse of their hearts beating in time with one another, as they both drifted into the quiet comfort of the night.

VIKTOR

It was late in the evening, the distant hum of Piltover’s bustling streets and the clattering of the city’s many gears filled the air, but in Viktor’s apartment, all was quiet. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of lamps, casting delicate shadows against the warm wood and stone of the walls. The apartment was a blend of both the refined and the scientific, with polished furniture mixed with the occasional piece of Viktor’s machinery. His workshop was just down the hall, but here in their shared space, it felt almost like a haven, quiet and intimate. Viktor had already gone to bed, the exhaustion of a long day catching up to him, but beside him, Y/N lay wide awake.

Her mind wouldn't stop. Thoughts, worries, little fragments of the day’s events, all tangled together, keeping her from finding any peace. The bed felt too warm, too cold, too still, too restless, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't find the calm she desperately needed to sleep.

Viktor, already on the verge of slipping into slumber, stirred beside her. He noticed her tossing and turning, the soft rustling of the blankets growing louder with each movement. He groaned softly, his eyes blinking open, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"Would you care to explain why you’re practically wrestling with the blanket?" he murmured in his usual dry, sarcastic tone, his voice thick with sleep. "Is this some new method of sleep therapy?"

Y/N, caught off guard, froze for a moment, then sighed, sinking deeper into the mattress. "I can't sleep, Viktor. My mind is just… too full. I’ve tried everything."

Viktor propped himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing with concern beneath his tired eyes. He watched her for a moment, noting the way her shoulders seemed tense, the slight furrow of her brow, and the way she kept shifting restlessly. She looked exhausted, but the weight of her thoughts kept her trapped in wakefulness.

Without a word, he moved closer, gently pulling her into his arms. "Come here," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let me help."

Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, but then allowed herself to be drawn into his warm embrace. The steady rhythm of Viktor's breathing, soft but grounding, calmed her. For a moment, she felt the weight of the world lift just enough to make it feel like she could breathe again. His strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she could feel the gentle hum of his presence soothing the restlessness that had been consuming her.

"Close your eyes," he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. "Focus on me. Not on anything else."

She nodded, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as she nestled closer to him. Viktor continued to kiss the top of her head, his lips trailing softly along her hairline as he whispered words of comfort, his voice filled with affection. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, and the calm, constant presence of him slowly helped her mind to quiet.

Viktor’s fingers gently stroked her back, the tender movements like a lullaby, easing the tension that had built up inside her. His touch was slow and deliberate, each stroke across her skin a silent promise to keep her safe. "You know," he murmured, his voice soft and slightly amused, "I didn’t think I’d be the one to teach you how to relax."

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, the sound almost drowned out by the comfort of his touch. "Well, you're a good teacher."

His lips brushed against her forehead again, the small gesture carrying more weight than any words could. He pulled her even closer, cradling her against his chest. With a steady, rhythmic motion, he began to rub her back, each movement slow and soothing, like the ebb and flow of the tide. His hand moved from the nape of her neck down to her lower back, massaging in smooth circles, working out the tightness and stress that had settled there over the day.

"Just breathe with me," he whispered, his voice calm but insistent. "In and out. Let everything else go."

Y/N, her breath shallow at first, began to focus on his words. Slowly, she inhaled deeply, the air filling her lungs, then exhaled slowly, feeling the tension start to ease. With every breath, her body softened in his arms, relaxing against him as he continued to stroke her back, the steady pressure of his hand soothing the knot of anxiety that had been making her restless. Each motion was a grounding force, calming her, pulling her further away from her worries.

Viktor continued his slow, steady massage, his hands working to erase the stress that clung to her, every gentle stroke helping her to let go a little more. His touch was so steady, so reassuring, that she couldn’t help but focus on it, the world outside of their apartment fading into the background. Her breathing grew deeper, slower, until her body felt as though it was floating, weightless, wrapped in his arms.

"That's better," Viktor murmured, his voice now a soft lullaby. "Now, just sleep, láska. Let go of everything." (Love)

Y/N, too relaxed to speak, nodded into his chest, her eyes fluttering closed. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear, each beat a lullaby guiding her deeper into comfort. The combination of his soothing touch, his gentle words, and his unwavering presence made the world outside seem distant, unimportant.

With one final kiss to her temple, Viktor held her tightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest against his. He knew that with him by her side, she was safe. He, too, began to drift toward sleep, his mind unwinding from the constant whirl of thoughts. Despite the world outside, the machines that never stopped, and the quiet hum of Piltover’s city, he was content — knowing that he could be the anchor she needed.

The last thing Y/N heard before she fell into peaceful slumber was Viktor’s voice, low and soft, like a promise whispered just for her.

"Goodnight, moje láska." (My Love)

And with that, Y/N finally found the sleep she so desperately needed.

JAYVIK

In the soft glow of the room, Y/N lay tangled in the sheets, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The weight of her thoughts pressed down on her, keeping her awake. It was another restless night. Anxiety clawed at her, making it difficult to breathe, let alone sleep. Her mind ran wild with thoughts she couldn’t silence, each one louder than the last. The quiet of the room only amplified her distress, and every passing second felt like an eternity.

Viktor sat at the edge of the bed, his expression soft and concerned as he watched her. His hand hovered over her back, the warmth of his palm radiating just a fraction away from her skin. He could see the way her body tensed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, like she was trapped in a whirlwind of her own making. The anxiety was thick in the air, and it gnawed at her, making her feel like she couldn’t catch her breath. He’d learned her patterns well, the little things that signaled when she was struggling, and now was one of those moments where she needed him.

Jayce, who sat beside Y/N, gently reached for her, brushing a lock of hair from her face. He noticed her eyes were wide open, her lips parted in a shallow breath, and he knew she wasn’t just physically restless. Something deeper was troubling her. "You’re tense," he murmured softly, his voice gentle and soothing, cutting through the storm of thoughts in her mind. "Let us help you, love."

Y/N let out a small, frustrated sigh but didn’t pull away from their touch. She was too tired to fight it, but the weight of the anxiety held her captive. "I just… I can’t… My mind won’t stop," she whispered, her voice strained, barely above a murmur.

Viktor’s brow furrowed with concern, and he leaned closer, his warmth radiating against her neck. He spoke softly, a calm and grounding presence that seemed to settle the chaos in her mind. "You don’t need to do anything right now, Y/N. Just let us take care of you." His voice was steady, full of conviction. He would do anything to help her find peace.

Jayce’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining in a gentle hold that was both grounding and reassuring. His thumb caressed her skin, offering her the physical connection she desperately needed. "We’re right here, Y/N," he whispered, his voice low and comforting. "You’re safe with us."

The combination of their soothing words and the steady pressure of their hands began to ease her tense muscles, but the battle inside her head still raged. She was still restless, her thoughts a storm she couldn’t escape. Viktor, ever the patient one, shifted behind her. He carefully settled his larger frame against hers, pulling her back into his chest. His embrace was warm, like a protective cocoon, and it made her feel just a little less alone in the sea of anxiety. He kissed the top of her head gently, his lips brushing her hair. "Close your eyes, Y/N," he murmured softly, his voice warm and comforting. "We’re here, love."

Jayce, never far behind, moved closer as well. He cupped her face in his hands, brushing a kiss to her temple, then down to her cheek. His lips were soft and tender, brushing against her skin like a whispered promise. "You’re not alone," he whispered, his voice thick with affection. "You don’t have to do this on your own."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and her heart ached with the overwhelming tenderness of their words and actions. Slowly, the anxiety’s hold began to loosen. Viktor’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer, his body shielding her from everything outside of the moment. Jayce, with his ever-present tenderness, began to stroke her hair gently, his fingers working through the strands with a delicate rhythm that seemed to lull her into a sense of calm.

The two of them formed a barrier of warmth and safety on either side of her. She was nestled between their bodies now, sandwiched in the middle of their embrace. Their closeness was a balm to her troubled soul, a shield from the storms in her mind. Viktor’s steady breathing matched hers, slow and rhythmic, while Jayce’s presence grounded her, his touch reminding her that she wasn’t alone.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered, her body finally beginning to relax as the soft lull of their voices and the warmth of their embrace began to work their magic. The tightness in her chest loosened, her breath becoming more even, her heartbeat slowing to a calm, steady rhythm. For the first time in hours, she felt herself slipping away from the tight grip of anxiety.

"I love you both," Y/N whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable, the words escaping her lips like a sigh of relief. She didn’t have to carry the weight of her worries alone anymore.

Viktor pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. His hand, no longer mechanical, gently stroked her back in slow, steady motions. "And we love you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. "Always."

Jayce leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering a moment longer than necessary, savouring the softness of the moment. "Rest now, love. We’re here," he whispered, the words filled with both promise and affection.

With the steady rhythm of their breaths surrounding her, Y/N finally allowed herself to drift into a peaceful sleep. She was cocooned in the warmth of their bodies, her worries forgotten for the night. Her anxiety had lost its grip, and she was no longer alone in the dark. The comfort of Viktor’s arms and the tenderness of Jayce’s touch ensured that she could finally rest, safe and secure in the embrace of those who loved her.

And as she slept, Viktor and Jayce stayed close, never once letting go, their presence a constant reminder that she was loved and protected.

VANDER

Y/N had been lying in bed for what felt like hours, tossing and turning, her thoughts spiralling out of control. Anxiety had its grip on her chest, making it impossible to breathe, let alone sleep.

She slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb Vander, who was still sound asleep. He always had a way of finding peace in the chaos of the world, but tonight, that peace felt out of reach for her. Slipping on her shoes, she quietly made her way downstairs and into the bar area.

The bar was completely closed, but she didn’t mind. It was a quiet, empty space where she could think—or try to. Y/N shuffled behind the counter and reached for a bottle of something strong, something that might dull the edge of her racing mind. She poured herself a drink and stared at it for a moment, the amber liquid shimmering in the dim light. With a sigh, she placed her head on the cool wood of the bar, hoping that the stillness of the room would soothe her frayed nerves.

But as she sat there, her thoughts felt even louder, echoing in her mind like a thousand voices. She barely heard the soft footsteps behind her until a voice, deep and comforting, broke through the fog of her anxiety.

"You’re not getting much sleep, are you?"

Y/N turned her head slightly to see Vander standing beside her, his broad frame leaning against the counter. His eyes, soft and full of concern, locked onto hers. The sight of him always made her feel safe, even when everything inside her felt like it was unraveling.

“I... I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just... I don’t know what’s wrong. Everything’s... too loud in my head."

Vander sighed softly and sat down next to her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath. His hand found hers, gently squeezing it.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice as soothing as the deep ocean. "I’m right here. You’re safe."

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his side, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Vander’s presence always had that effect on her, like a steady anchor in a storm. He didn’t need to say much, but his touch spoke volumes.

"You want me to help you relax?" he asked, his tone tender.

She nodded, feeling the weight in her chest lighten just a little. Vander always knew what she needed, even when she couldn’t quite put it into words.

Without saying another word, he gently pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. His fingers traced soothing patterns along her back, slow and deliberate, as if he was erasing the anxious thoughts from her mind, one touch at a time. Y/N let out a soft sigh, her muscles slowly loosening.

"Just breathe with me, alright?" Vander whispered, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "In and out. Let everything go. You don’t have to worry about anything right now."

Y/N inhaled deeply, matching the slow rhythm of his breath. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong against her cheek, grounding her in the present moment. Slowly, her thoughts began to quiet, the panic receding like the tide. She snuggled closer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Vander smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "That’s it. Just like that."

After a few minutes, Y/N felt herself growing heavy, the anxiety that had plagued her starting to fade. She felt safe, protected, with Vander beside her. As if the world could crumble around them, but as long as she was in his arms, everything would be okay.

"How about we get you to bed?" Vander asked quietly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yeah... that sounds nice."

With one last kiss to her forehead, Vander helped her to her feet, guiding her back up the stairs. He tucked her into bed, his large frame curling around her protectively as he held her close, his steady presence a calming force.

As Y/N finally closed he r eyes, the weight of the world lifting from her chest, she knew that no matter what happened, Vander would always be there—her safe place, her anchor in the storm.

And for the first time in hours, she drifted off to sleep, the sound of his steady heartbeat lulling her into a peaceful slumber.

SILCO

The dim glow of Piltover's distant lights painted the walls of the room as Y/N tossed and turned under the thick, heavy blankets. Every small noise in the building felt like a thunderclap in her mind, every thought a whirlwind that kept her wide awake. She hadn’t meant to wake up at this hour, but something was gnawing at her—something unsettled deep in her bones.

Silco’s side of the bed lay still and untouched, as he had slipped into a deep sleep hours ago. His calm breathing echoed softly in the quiet room, a stark contrast to the turmoil that gripped her mind. Her gaze flicked over to him, his familiar features softened in sleep. The comfort of his presence wasn’t enough to quell the unease creeping through her chest.

Turning once again, she finally let out a frustrated sigh. The night was far too quiet, and her mind far too loud. She couldn’t seem to calm herself, not when everything in her world was in motion, so much at stake. The plans they were orchestrating, the alliances they were forming, the enemies lurking in the shadows—everything weighed heavily on her. The responsibility, the constant vigilance—it was too much, especially when the uncertainty of the future loomed so large.

After a few moments, Y/N quietly slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Silco’s peaceful slumber. She didn’t want to wake him; he needed his rest as much as she did, even if his sleep seemed more uninterrupted, more serene. She padded down the hall, feeling the cool stone under her bare feet. With each step, the weight on her chest seemed to lighten a little, though not enough to quiet the turmoil in her mind.

She arrived at Silco's office, the only place in the building that offered any measure of peace. The large, sturdy window overlooked the sprawling city below, where the distant lights flickered against the dark sky like tiny stars. Piltover’s towers loomed high above, their sharp silhouettes barely visible against the haze of smoke that hung over the city. The city was never truly silent, but from here, it seemed distant, almost ethereal, as though she could escape the noise of it all.

Y/N stood before the window, letting the cool night air brush against her face, hoping for some clarity, some sense of calm. Her thoughts scattered again, each one tugging her in different directions, none of them allowing her peace. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push the feeling of restlessness away, letting the city’s hum wash over her like a faint lullaby, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t escape the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. The unknown dangers, the whispers in the shadows—they felt too close.

A soft creak of the door behind her broke her reverie, and Y/N turned to find Silco standing there. His sharp, observant eyes studied her face with a quiet intensity. He had woken, no doubt sensing her absence, and had come to find her. His presence filled the room immediately, imposing yet familiar. He stood still, watching her, his expression unreadable for a long moment before he spoke, his voice low but carrying a tenderness that she knew was reserved only for her.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the harsh edge that was always a part of him.

Y/N nodded, letting out a slow breath. "I just... I can't turn my mind off tonight."

Silco approached her, his steps sure, his presence commanding yet comforting in its own way. He stood next to her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder as he looked out over the city with her. He didn’t need to say anything more; his quiet understanding of her struggles was enough. “I know the feeling,” he murmured. “It’s hard to quiet a mind that’s always running.”

For a moment, they stood together in silence, the only sound the distant hum of Piltover’s streets. Y/N felt his hand shift from her shoulder to gently cup her face, turning her toward him. His eyes softened as they met hers, the sharp, calculating look that she knew so well replaced by something warmer, something gentler.

“Come back to bed,” Silco whispered, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to seep into her bones. “Let me help you relax.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment. She needed him. Needed his touch, his warmth, to ground her, to still the thoughts that swirled relentlessly in her mind.

Hand in hand, they walked back to their room, where Silco pulled her into his arms without hesitation, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Y/N rested her head against his chest, her body slowly relaxing as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed her racing thoughts. His other hand threaded through her hair, the soft touch soothing her frayed nerves, and he placed soft, slow kisses along her forehead, each one tender and reassuring.

“I’m here,” he murmured against her skin, his lips brushing the top of her head. “You’re safe. You don’t have to face the world alone.”

Her body melted against his, the heat of his body enveloping her like a protective shield. She let herself sink deeper into the softness of the bed, her worries drifting further away with each kiss, each caress. In his embrace, the weight of her responsibilities seemed to lighten. Here, in the quiet sanctuary of their shared space, she could let go, if only for a moment.

Silco’s hands gently traced the lines of her back, his touch slow and deliberate as he held her close, grounding her. The tension in her body finally began to loosen, the knot in her chest slowly unwinding. She could feel the love in his touch, the unspoken promise that no matter how dark the world became, he would always be there to keep the shadows at bay. Slowly, Y/N's breathing became deeper, more even, as the soothing rhythm of Silco's touch lulled her into a peaceful slumber.

Silco, too, relaxed, his own body finding comfort in the closeness, in the shared warmth. He pressed one last kiss to the top of her head before he let sleep take him as well. In that moment, there was no battle to fight, no plans to be made. There was only the quiet, gentle rhythm of their shared breath, and the peaceful stillness of the night.

And for once, in the arms of the man who had always fought the hardest battles, Y/N found the tranquillity she so desperately needed. As the weight of the world temporarily lifted from her shoulders, she knew that no matter what came next, she would face it with him by her side. Together, they would endure whatever storms the future held.

SEVIKA

Sevika lay in the bed next to Y/N, the faint glow of the night casting shadows on the walls. She could feel the restless shifts of Y/N’s body as she tossed and turned, her movements growing more frantic as the night wore on. The soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh broke the otherwise quiet room, and Sevika’s eyes softened with concern.

At first, Sevika stayed still, her arms crossed under her head, trying to let Y/N work through it. But after a while, the constant shifting and restless tossing made it harder for Sevika to ignore.

"Come on, stop moving around so much," Sevika’s voice was low, but there was a touch of frustration beneath it. She reached out, gently brushing the hair from Y/N’s face. “You’re making it worse.”

Y/N blinked, still groggy, her eyes meeting Sevika’s with a hint of frustration. “I don’t know… I just can’t get comfortable.”

Sevika rolled onto her side, her mechanical arm sliding around Y/N’s waist as she pulled her closer. She could feel the tension in Y/N’s body, the way she was practically vibrating with unease. Sevika sighed softly, her own heart aching as she tried to make her lover more comfortable.

“Come here,” Sevika whispered, her voice thick with affection. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

Y/N didn’t protest, instead letting herself melt into Sevika’s embrace. The warmth of her body was comforting, and Sevika’s touch—gentle yet firm—was exactly what Y/N needed. Sevika kissed her forehead softly before resting her chin on top of her head. She felt a small pang of guilt, wondering if it was the mechanical arm that was causing discomfort. She shifted slightly, ready to move it, but Y/N let out a frustrated sigh.

Sevika hesitated, her fingers lightly brushing Y/N’s back. “Do you want me to move my arm? I can—”

“No,” Y/N mumbled sleepily, her voice thick with exhaustion. “It’s not that.”

Sevika froze for a moment, then gave a gentle, understanding smile. She kept her arm where it was, a reassuring presence. Y/N had her reasons for being restless, and Sevika was content to be there to help her through it.

"Then what is it, love?" Sevika whispered, brushing her lips against Y/N’s hair.

Y/N shifted slightly, sighing again as her hand clutched at the sheets. “I don't know… I just can't seem to shut my mind off.”

Sevika's heart softened even more at the admission. She knew Y/N’s mind often raced, especially when she was feeling overwhelmed or stressed. It was one of the reasons she treasured their quiet moments together, when Y/N could let go and just be.

"Let me help you with that," Sevika said softly, her voice low and soothing. She pulled Y/N a little closer, her lips grazing the top of her head in a slow, tender kiss. “Breathe with me.”

Y/N gave a faint nod, her body still tense, but Sevika’s calming words seemed to settle the storm brewing in her mind. Sevika’s hand moved gently across Y/N's back in slow, rhythmic strokes. The touch was steady and unhurried, like a soft reassurance that everything would be okay. Sevika could feel Y/N’s breath hitch slightly, and her fingers continued their slow movements, hoping to ease the tension away.

“Breathe in for me,” Sevika murmured, her voice like a calm lullaby. “Nice and slow, in through your nose…”

Y/N inhaled, her breath shaky but deep. Sevika smiled softly, feeling the strain in Y/N’s body start to loosen as she followed the rhythm Sevika set. “That’s it. Good girl.”

Sevika continued to guide her, their breathing now synchronized, the slow, steady rise and fall of their chests mingling in the stillness of the night. With each breath, Y/N’s body relaxed a little more, her rigid muscles slowly softening beneath Sevika’s touch. The frantic, disjointed thoughts in Y/N’s mind began to fade, and the tension in her body slowly dissolved.

“Better?” Sevika asked quietly, her lips brushing against Y/N’s temple, her voice full of tenderness.

Y/N’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was soft and content now. “Mmm… much better.”

Sevika kissed her temple again, her heart swelling with affection. “I’m glad. Now, just sleep, love.”

Y/N snuggled closer, her body relaxing completely against Sevika’s chest. The steady rhythm of Sevika’s heart beneath her was grounding, calming, and the weight of Sevika’s arm around her felt like the safest place in the world. Sevika’s breathing slowed, becoming deeper as Y/N’s did, and the room filled with the peaceful sound of their shared breaths.

Sevika kissed the top of Y/N’s head once more, whispering, “I’m right here. You’re safe, love. Sleep.”

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered closed, the weight of the day finally lifting from her shoulders. As the night continued, Sevika held her close, her touch tender and constant. Soft kisses and whispered words of comfort were all it took for Y/N to finally drift into a peaceful, restorative sleep. Sevika remained vigilant, content to be her anchor through the darkness of the night. She wrapped herself even tighter around Y/N, her presence a steady promise of safety and love, knowing she would always be there to help guide Y/N through the nights when sleep didn’t come so easily.

[tyrannosaurusprex]

Opinion: Mark Scout’s arc is not about moving on from Gemma, and [spoiler] is not necessary for his healing.

Long post, spoilers for Severance up to Season 2 Episode 7 below the cut.

Mark Scout’s arc is not about moving on from Gemma. Leaving her fate in Lumon’s hands is not necessary for his healing.

It seems that the common consensus among the fanbase, at least before S2E07, was that from a meta perspective, Mark should not be trying to rescue Gemma, because he needs to move on from her and her “death” in order to achieve character growth. The argument was that his inability to move on from her brought him pain and suffering, and that from a storytelling standpoint, it would therefore be unsatisfying for him to be “rewarded” with Gemma again. He could only fulfil his character arc by moving on.

I never really liked this theory. Mainly because I never thought that Gemma died in the first place; it seemed more likely that she had been kidnapped by Lumon, and that she deserved to be freed. It seemed cruel and unjust to leave her in the hands of Lumon just so that Mark could achieve character growth. The show makes us empathise with all the innies, so I felt bad for Gemma and Ms Casey, too. They all live bleak lives and they all deserve freedom. But I also realised that this interpretation of Mark’s reaction to Gemma’s disappearance is just inaccurate, as far as my reading of the show goes.

People were basically saying that Mark never tried to move on from Gemma, which brought him pain; therefore, trying to get Gemma back will bring him more pain, and the only way to achieve peace is to move on. I think that would make sense if the premise were true. But the problem is that Mark did try to move on from Gemma. The whole reason he got severed was to try to move on. He left his job at the college they both used to work at, and he moved out of the house they used to share, and he got a procedure so he wouldn’t be able to remember her for 40 hours of the week. Was it a healthy attempt at moving on? No, but it was a genuine attempt. So many things show us that Mark was legitimately trying:

Devon says that “forgetting about her eight hours of the day isn’t the same as healing”. This dialogue is basically exposition that tells us that he is trying to heal from his grief, but he is going about it the wrong way.

Mark tells Petey that his wife died two years ago and that the severed job is helping him.

Mark goes on two dates with Alexa; the second one goes much better than the first. Mark comfortably brings up Gemma but apologises for talking about her too much. He and Alexa share a sweet kiss and sleep together, showing that Mark is capable of forming new romantic connections. And in fact, the reason the second date ends badly seemingly has nothing to do with Gemma. If Mark had not picked up Reghabi's call, and had not witnessed a violent murder, he might very well have gone on more dates with Alexa.

After Mark drunkenly rips up Gemma’s photo, he puts it back together and reminisces about her in a touching moment. The next time we see him, in S1E8, he’s contemplating leaving his job at Lumon, because as he says to Cobelvig, he doesn’t think he needs it anymore. Implying that what he needs is not to forget Gemma, but instead remember her and keep his love for her alive. This will help him deal with his grief in a healthy way. This whole episode he looks much happier and more at ease than he has seemed pretty much the whole season.

In S2E02, he is staunchly convinced that Gemma is not alive, no matter what Devon says. He is trying to move on from her here. If he weren't, he probably would have jumped at the possibility.

Milchick convinces Mark to return to Lumon with the promise that Lumon will help Mark continue to move on from his grief. Milchick tells Mark that Mark has found love at Lumon, and instead of seeming repulsed, or uncomfortable, this seems to give Mark hope, as he returns to work the next day. Because he wants to move on.

Mark only starts to suspect that Gemma is alive when Cobel avoids his questions about her in a very…weird…way (i.e. demonic screaming). And even then, he only believes that Gemma is alive when Reghabi tells him she’s seen her at Lumon. Before this, practically the whole time, Mark was genuinely trying to forget and move on from Gemma, which was actually what was bringing pain and suffering to him, his innie, and Gemma herself. His attempt at moving on — that is, his job at Lumon — resulted in his torture on the Severed Floor and Gemma’s torture on the Testing Floor. Only after Mark actually confronts his memories of Gemma in S1E7 does he seem happy, healthy, and willing to quit the evil corporation.

To me, all this is saying that Mark’s character arc is not about how he needs to forget about Gemma to heal. Forgetting about Gemma is what led him to the evil company. Perhaps what he needs is to confront his memories of her instead of avoiding the pain. When he believed Gemma was gone, his desire to forget about her drove him to split his brain in half, creating a version of himself which was doomed to hell; now that he believes she’s back, he’s decided to stitch his brain back together, freeing his innie, in a way. Reintegration is clearly dangerous but I don’t think the show is trying to tell us that it’s the wrong choice. It’s currently the only way that an innie and outie can coexist.

So is the show saying that we shouldn’t try to move on from grief? I don't think so. I think it’s saying that we shouldn’t try to ignore all the negative things we experience. We shouldn't compartmentalise to such an extreme extent. As Devon says, forgetting is not the same as healing. There are things we all need to confront, and Mark has needed to confront his grief and his love for Gemma. This, I think, is the first step to his actual healing.

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Ok so this is my first time ever doing an ask so if I’m doing this wrong PLEASE tell me. Anyways I wanted to ask for some Oliver Aiku angst. Specifically where we’re married and he’s been cheating but he’s done a weirdly good job at hiding it. But then we find out and leave him. And if you could PLEASE make it in Oliver’s POV for extra male groveling. Now again this is my first time doing an ask so if I come off as demanding or just not detailed enough please forgive me. 🤕😭🫶🏼🤕

moral of the story oliver aiku x gn!reader

Synopsis: Oliver Aiku had everything: fame, the best career, and the love of his life... but sometimes, the snake slithers into the garden of Eden to poison everything.

Tags and Themes: angst, cheating, divorce, established relationship, marriage, people asking stupid questions, aiku's human condition biting him in the ass, ooc lmao, ubers team mentioned eheh

Author's notes: Hello, sweetpea! Oh, this took me a while to write, and you're my first ever request for a drabble! haha! Thank you so much for dropping this request! I wrote it as well as I could. I drew inspiration from stories I heard from that one Reddit story that Smosh read. I forgot which episode, but I will link it here if I find it again. I hope you love it! Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

photo grabbed from Pinterest (owner unknown; will search for it and add it here)

Want more stories? Check out the Blue Lock Masterlist!

On nights, he would stay up and wonder where he went wrong.

He knew he had gotten something wrong; he wasn't stupid, but the turn of events was something he couldn't control, or at least that's what he told himself to comfort him. The dissatisfaction, the cheating, the decision.

He lost everything that he once had.

If we go back to 2 years ago, Oliver Aiku was on the top of the world. Everyone loved him, everyone adored him. He was at the peak of his career at the ripe age of 27, one of Japan's most treasured players as he played for Italy. He was every kid's dream player and every teenager's role model in sports. And most of all, he had you, the best partner he could ever have; you were the one who knew him best since childhood until now and the best support he could ever have had. In every interview he had, he would honor you, telling the world that you're his lucky charm.

He had his dream life.

He had all the best in the world.

In your two years of marriage, he lived for the moment in the privacy of your shared home more than the spotlight on him all the time. Mornings were sweet as he would hold you in his arms, whispering "good morning" in your ear. As sweet love was shared between the safety of your sheets, he knew so well that this was his heaven, having you by his side. The routine of your quiet and comfortable days was something he held close to his heart because he knew how much you cared for him every day, and he gladly reciprocated that. It was all so surreal.

You were so surreal.

But sometimes, the devil slithers silently into the garden without anyone noticing, and for Aiku, it was the playful banters he had with his teammates.

"Don't you ever find it boring?" Lorenzo asked as they all gathered back into the locker room after a productive day of practice. That question alone got everyone's attention.

"Find what boring?" Barou chimed in, his gruff voice echoing in the room. Lorenzo cocked his head towards Aiku as he replied, "I was asking Mr. Lavender Haze here. I wanna know if marriage ever gets boring." Barou scoffs, shaking his head at his teammate. "You wouldn't understand that because all you ever care about is money."

"True, but that's because money can't hurt me," Lorenzo snickered. He slung an arm around Aiku, leaning all his weight on the defender. "Aiku has given up being a player for his partner. That's something I never expected him to do. He'd always disappear every time we're out drinking."

"There are things that needed to be sacrificed for love, Lorenzo," Aiku said, removing Lorenzo's arm around his shoulders. "You'd understand once you fall in love."

"But does it get boring?" Niko asked. The youngest of the team was never one to ask or peep when they talk about relationships, but this conversation must have piqued his interest. "Two years of marriage with the same person and all you do is now a routine. Surely, you'd return to your natural self, your human tendency of being a player."

"Niko, that's why sacrifices are made. I wouldn't have married them if I didn't truly love them. Besides, I know what I was doing before was destructive and inappropriate. I changed for them, and I couldn't be happier."

Niko hummed in response and continued whatever he was doing. But for Aiku, the questions stayed in his mind for quite a while. Does it ever get boring?

That's why he'd break up his past relationships before; 3 months of being together turn dull for him. He needed excitement, a challenge. He needed the thrill of chasing and pursuing. He lived for that high. But you..

You offered contentment, satisfaction, safety, and security. Something he never felt before because he tended to cheat and lily pad. He never wanted to settle down until you came back into his life and accepted him for who he was, loved him despite his past, and cared for him more than he ever cared for himself. You were the epitome of perfection in his eyes.

It was then he realized he still wanted it.

He wanted to get high on that feeling again.

It started small. Drinks with the team would turn into them entertaining fangirls at the bar. It wasn't new that Aiku would get the attention. Girls loved how he looked: his heterochromic eyes and how he carried himself. He'd tell them he was married at first, but with the need for thrill, he eventually gave in and chatted with one of the girls.

He didn't push her away when her hand started to wander on his thighs.

He didn't pull away when her lips got too close to his.

Eventually, his thoughts turned into fruition. The devil made him bite into the apple that wasn't supposed to be eaten, but whatever.

One make-out session turned into secret texts and calls. He was so good at being so discreet, making him feel nostalgic. His excuses weren't so obvious that you'd start suspecting him of anything. Rendezvous were hidden under the guise of extra training time due to an upcoming match, and calls were excused as ones from his manager about "interviews". He was careful, but could not hide the fact that it was...

It was everything he wanted, and he wanted more. More of the thrill, more of her, while still in the safety of your love and marriage.

How could you be so blind, he asked himself. How could his lovely partner be so trusting of him? How could you still smile and kiss him without knowing he was betraying you?

How could he imagine a life without you?

Months passed, and he knew he was in too deep. He started prioritizing the "practices" and "calls from the manager" over the time he should spend with you. It annoyed you, but you knew that's one of the things you were made aware of when you married the football star. His career comes first; the sports community will always have his attention first.

The calls kept coming, and one day, you answered one on his phone.

It wasn't the voice of his manager.

You were quick to pack up and leave despite his pleas, telling you he was sorry, that it was a mistake, that it wasn't supposed to happen.

"I told you, Aiku. When you proposed to marry me, I told you one mistake, I'll leave. I trusted you with all of my life, Aiku. I accepted you and saw how you changed for our marriage, and yet you betrayed me."

He couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye after that.

He couldn't bring himself to wake up every morning, your absence making it all heavier. You weren't coming back soon, and he messed up. He lost you. He lost the life he knew he wanted. He lost the love he never deserved in the first place, yet you gave it to him wholeheartedly. You gave him a chance, and he failed.

The divorce papers arriving at his doorstep made it all worse.

He didn't want to sign it. He stared at it for too long, for days... for weeks... until your lawyer had to ring him up for the deadline.

He hated himself. For the first time, he hated every fiber of his being.

Every court meeting is like seeing the light because he gets to see you, his perfect angel. The only love he's ever known. But you would never meet his eyes. Always looking away, always so distant. He did this, he caused this. He lost the only love he ever knew.

After two whole years and several court hearings, your divorce was finalized. And for the first time in a long time, Aiku finally caught a glimpse of your eyes, the closest thing he could get to feeling your love once again, yet the words that came out of your mouth crushed him.

"I hope you realize that I will be the only one who will truly love you for you and not for your money and fame."

Aiku wasn't a crier. He never was, but he found himself breaking down at your words and how real this finally felt. He truly lost you. You were no longer his, and he's just a shell of a broken man.

He'll be haunted by the ghost of you, forever...

[jane-the-good]

CALEB: tender moments pt. 2

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

SUMMARY: kindergarten teacher AU! It’s a lovely day with just a hint of stress, but that’s how life is. Caleb is always there to lend a hand and make everything easier ◡̈ but what if you’re on your own when a wanderer attacks???

TAGS: Caleb x MC, fluff

AN: I like how in game there are lots of tender moments ◡̈ I think I might keep more going! maybe more AUs if you have requests ♡

WARNINGS: fighting, disaster at an elementary school (no death), weenie bit of yandere Caleb

AO3

The morning is a hush, a breath held between night and day. A sliver of time untouched, where the world lingers along the line of dreaming and waking. The air is thick with quiet, the kind that softly streams through windows, weightless and warm. Light drapes itself in long, golden threads, stretching across the floor, as if hesitant to disturb the stillness. For a moment, everything is suspended, unrushed, unbroken, waiting.

You wake to the comforting scent of breakfast, the softness of Caleb’s presence moving through the kitchen. He’s always up before you, his body already warm from his morning workout, his hair still damp from the shower. He doesn’t say much at first, just gives you a smirk when he catches you watching him.

"Morning," you mumble, still groggy as you step toward him, stealing the toast off his plate before sinking into your chair.

His thoughtful care is everywhere, the way he makes sure your plate is full, the way he watches, making sure you eat, making sure you’re cared for. It’s in the way he puts lotion on your hands for you and in the way he reminds you, "You call me if anything happens, okay?" His voice firm, but laced with something deeper.

You promise you will.

Your classroom is warm, sunlight spilling through the windows as your students work through their assignments, their soft murmurs filling the air. You love this, the way their minds spark to life, the way they look to you for guidance, for understanding. It’s what you were meant to do.

It starts with a distant rumble. The sound is low, like thunder trapped beneath the ground. Then, the entire building shivering. A sickening lurch, followed by a deafening roar. The lights flicker. The security alarms blare.

Panic tightens around the school in an anxious fist.

Through the window, you only see its shadow. A Wanderer. A thing born from deepspace, all wrong angles and shifting mass. It’s hulking darkness warping the light. Its eyes burn, sickly and bright.

The world erupts. An explosion tears through the hallway, shockwaves slamming into the room. You’re airborne before you register the force, spine colliding with the far wall. The floor rumbles. Screams fracture the air. Debris falls in jagged sheets.

Through the ringing in your ears, you barely register your own voice, telling your students to stay low, to move toward the emergency exit.

But something blocks the way. Its smell hits you before it’s in sight. The Wanderer is close, too close.

You can’t even think. You just act.

With shaking hands, you grab a metal rod from the wreckage, your body moving on instinct. If you can distract it, if you can buy enough time for the hunter unit to arrive, maybe your students will have a chance.

The last thing you remember is the sharp, searing pain as the creature’s energy pulse knocks you to the ground.

The security feeds go dark.

One second, he’s watching you. The next, the screen is static.

His heart stops.

The reports come in, Attack at the school. Heavy damage. Casualties unknown.

He’s on his way out before he can hear anything worse.

Emergency crews swarm the wreckage, voices barking orders over the wail of sirens. The building is half-collapsed, broken steel and shattered glass jutting from the ruins. Smoke rises in thick, choking plumes, staining the early morning sky. His pulse pounds in his ears as he shoves past responders, ignoring shouted warnings. His eyes scan the chaos, searching, and so incredibly desperate.

In the distance, he hears a frantic child’s voice talking to the emergency crew. 
“My teacher is still in there! You have to find her!”

The world tilts. Sound warps and muffles like he was shoved underwater. Someone is still talking, but he can’t process the words. Can’t breathe past the freezing fist closing around his ribs.

He doesn’t wait for the rescue team. He doesn’t trust them to find you fast enough. Not when every second could be the difference between life and, No. He refuses to think it.

Smoke constricts his lungs, dust coats his skin, but none of it matters. Not when you’re still in there. Somewhere beneath this wreckage of a school.

His voice is raw from calling for you, so desperately. He claws through debris, shoving aside broken desks, shattered glass, anything that stands between him and you. His fingers are bleeding, his body screaming, but he won’t stop. Not until-

There. A glimpse of fabric. A hand, too still.

Panic slams into him as he drops to his knees, pulling away chunks of rubble until he reaches you. His hands shake as he presses two fingers to your neck. The longest second of his life. Then, a pulse. Weak but there.

“Hey, I got you,” he breathes, barely able to hear himself over the pounding in his ears. “Stay with me.”

The world is hazy when you wake.

Your head aches, a dull, pulsing pain, but it’s the warmth that you notice first. Caleb, his body pressed close, his breathing quicker than you can remember. His hand is grasping yours, refusing to let you go.

The ground beneath you is rough, uneven. Ash clings to your skin, the air thick with the scent of burnt metal and dust. The ruins of the explosion stretch around you in silhouettes, even the ceiling is caked with dirt.

Your body protests as you try to move, every limb heavy with exhaustion. The shift is small, barely more than a breath, but it’s enough.

Caleb stirs. His grip tightens around you, his arms wrapped protectively as if shielding you from a danger that has already passed. His head snaps up, eyes wild, frantic, like he’s been waiting on the edge of a nightmare.

“She’s alive,” he rasps into the phone, his voice rough with relief. “But she’s hurt. We need evac now.”

You blink sluggishly, your vision swimming, but the warmth of him, solid, grounding, keeps you tethered. His hand still in yours, squeezing gently, reassuring.

“No, she’s conscious, but barely,” he continues, jaw clenched, his voice tight with contained urgency. “I don’t care how, just get here.”

You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, dry and raw. There’s no telling how much debris you inhaled. He must sense it, because his attention snaps to you instantly, his free hand brushing over your hair, careful, reverent.

“Hey,” he murmurs, softer now, the phone still pressed to his ear. “Stay with me, okay? Help’s coming.”

His thumb strokes lightly over your knuckles. Even through the chaos, even with his voice sharp and commanding as he barks coordinates into the receiver, his touch remains gentle.

“I’ve got you.”

You want to tell him you’re okay. That you’re still here. But all you can do is squeeze his hand back, faint but certain.

His other hand brushes over your hair, careful, reverent, avoiding the bruises and cuts along your temple. There’s something fragile in the way he touches you, like he’s afraid you might break.

"How do you feel?"

You blink, the world still tilting around you, a dull ache thrumming behind your temples. "Like-I got- hit by a spaceship."

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, he huffs out a breathless, almost-laugh, but it’s shaky, frayed at the edges. His fingers tighten slightly around yours, like he’s reassuring himself that you’re still here. That you’re still in this existence with him.

"You almost did."

Memories flood back in fragments, the attack, the students, the Wanderer. You try to sit up, but his hands are there instantly, holding you steady.

“Slow down,” he stutters. “Don’t push yourself.”

“My students, ”

“They’re safe,” he assures you quickly. “You kept them safe.”

You exhale, relief washing over you. But Caleb… he’s still tense. The weight of what he didn’t catch is still heavy on his heart.

"You should quit."

Your eyes snap to his. “Caleb, ”

“You almost died.” His voice is quiet but firm, the words heavy between you. “I swore I’d keep you safe, and I, ” He stops, jaw tightening, his hand curling into a fist at his sides. There’s something so exposing in his expression, something he’s barely holding back. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The words hang between you, fragile and heavy all at once. You reach for his fisted hand, your fingers brushing against his, warm despite the cold bite of the night air.

“I love teaching, Caleb.” Your voice is steady, but there’s a plea woven into it, a truth you need him to understand. “It’s not just a job. It’s who I am meant to be.”

His gaze flickers along the fleeting shadow falling on his face. A shallow breath escapes his lips as his shoulders sag. He watches, helpless, every moment you're out of his reach—able to care for you from a distance, but unable to protect you the way he wants. It's something you love, but it’s a choice he can't bear to see you make.

And maybe that’s what terrifies him most. The thought that he could hate you, if something happened, because it was your choice. But that’s absurd, isn’t it? Because he could never hate you. Not really. Not ever.

"Fine," he mutters. "But what about when we have kids?"

You freeze.

“Kids?” You stare at him, caught completely off guard. “Plural? And soon?”

His lips twitch. "I'm just thinking, "

"You are not just thinking,” you cut in, eyeing him suspiciously. "You mean it."

There’s a beat of silence. Then, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, maybe I do."

Your head is still spinning, from both the injury and this conversation, but you can’t help the small, incredulous laugh that escapes.

“Caleb,” you say, voice softer now, “we’re not there yet.”

He studies you for a long moment, then nods, resigned. "I know." Then, his hand tightens around yours. "But if this is what you love, if this is what you have to do... I’ll do everything I can to keep you doing it."

The weight of his words settles into the depths of your worries. You feel it in the way his fingers tighten around yours, desperate, like you are something fragile, something slipping through the cracks of a broken world. Something he cannot afford to lose.

“That’s all I need,” you murmur, the words small but certain, steady in a way the ground beneath you isn’t.

Around you, the world stirs. The rumble of stone being torn from stone. Voices calling through the dust. The distant wail of sirens, growing closer. The city stitching itself back together, blind to the places where you have come undone.

But here, in this breath, in this narrow space between ruin and rescue, between before and after, there is only Caleb. His arms around you. His breath against your temple. The quiet, steady beat of his heart, as if willing yours to do the same.

[thevoidscreams]

Could you write something about Vulkan? Preferably smut. I love this loving and massive super-human :3

Year 2 day 1

warning: smut and Vulkan being the GOAT (I love him so much)

Also the emperor being a good dad. Which is shocking. I know.

Word count:2966

'I heard that she's the wife of a primarch' 'she doesn't look like anything special to me' 'How long have they been married? and not a single child to be seen.. odd wouldn't you say?' 'Really it's an embarrassment that the emperor's own son would marry someone so.. common. There's nothing special about the girl at all.'

Your hand clenched around the stem of your glass as you tried to ignore the whispering around you. High Lords and nobles mingled or fought for the attention of your husband or brother's in law.

Vulkan was engaged in a very lively debate about something or another with his brother Ferrus, who seemed as though he would much rather be having the conversation anywhere but there.

Well that was certainly a mood, everything about this "party" blew, and not in a fun way. Why were they even having this party? Was it a celebration? A birthday maybe? Fuck if you knew, it just seemed like a prerequisite anytime more than two primarchs were back on Terra.

"You do not seem to be having a very good time." The speaker had come up behind you, which shocked you, you hadn't noticed anyone approaching. "Oh yeah, I'm not big on-" your voice faltered as you finished turning and saw the Emperor and two of his custodial retinue behind him. He was the height of an above average man at the moment and he was smiling down at you with a knowing sort of expression. "S-sorry, I um, I didn't mean any offense by that."

"It is alright, you are not required to be overjoyed by every gathering you attend. And I too admit that I would rather be elsewhere. But it is not a good look politically to decline every invitation."

"No, I suppose not." You smiled, and his demeanor shifted to a more fatherly one. It was hard to describe how exactly he did it, but suddenly the air between you both was far more at ease and comfortable.

"How have you been finding your marriage to my son?" You hadn't spoken in a few years, not since the wedding, so the question didn't surprise.

"Well, when he isn't actively campaigning or forging or teaching his sons, I must say I've never been happier. He is a wonderful man and I love him so much." You explained. The Emperor nodded and smiled. "I imagine you must be lonely when he is away." He supposed. "Sometimes, but his sons are good company and I always feel safe when they are around."

"Good, that is good." He seemed thoughtful. "Have you considered sons or daughters of your own?"

Luckily you hadn't had any drink in your mouth or you might have spit all over him as the suddenness of his question struck you.

"We've talked about it. I have no opposition to it, neither does he." You explained. "It's just that he's been rather busy and we haven't had much time recently." Your cheeks felt hot and it wasn't the drink causing it, that was for sure.

"I see. Perhaps he should take some time then, he has been doing well and I do believe he has earned it."

"Goodness, that would be nice, but I fear nothing short of you ordering it of him would take him from his work. He's so dedicated and there is so much expected of him."

Your father in law seemed to digest the words and nodded. "Well then, the hour is getting late and it is about time I start seeing my guests off. Would you like an escort to see you back to your room when you are done with socializing?" He motioned to the Custodes to his left and you fought back a gasp.

"Oh, no, thank you really, but I'm sure they have more important things to do than look after a grown woman."

His smile softened a shade and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "You are married to my son, that makes you my daughter now, that makes you a very important individual. It would not be out of line to assign one to you to see you safely across the palace."

Well, it seemed the decision had been made for you as he made a brief motion to the golden clad warrior and bid you farewell, leaving the custodian to watch over you. Though the armored giant didn't say anything as they took their post beside you.

Vulkan had concluded his conversation with his brother when he felt drawn to the other side of the room. Most of the guests had trickled out by now, very few were left, but he was delighted to see his father had remained. Motioning his son over, the primarch did as his father bid, going to his side. "Father, I am glad to have a moment with you. How have you been."

"Well, but there is a matter of importance that I wish to speak of with you."

~

The looming presence behind you was as intimidating as it was protective. Even if you knew the way back and knew that the palace was likely the safest place in the whole universe, the Emperor had ordained it and thus you had another very large guard keeping you safer than imaginable. They preceded you into the room, checked it and then allowed you in before standing guard outside the door.

'Stay on post with her until Vulkan returns.' Was the silent order they had received and so it would be.

The primarch of the Salamanders did not return for almost two hours. Well into the midnight hour. He greeted the custodian as he entered. Shutting the doors behind him and locking them.

Rousing from your sleep at the sound you were glad to see the man you loved so dearly. "Vulkan, my dragon, I missed you."

He chuckled as he disrobed and joined you in bed, kissing the top of your head. "I was gone but a few hours my flame." His strong arms pulled you atop his body and he peppered your face with kisses. "I know, but it was still too long."

His smile could have melted the ice of a frozen death world. It was so warm.

"My father pulled me aside after the party." He explained, which caught your interest.

"I see, is everything alright?"

"He has taken me from my duties to the crusade. There are other matters he wishes me to attend." His hands slide down over your hips.

"Really? That's so odd, I was just joking earlier that the only way you could be taken away from your duties in the crusade would be if he had ordered it."

Vulkan hummed, his hands gliding up to squeeze your ass. "Yes," he rumbled against your throat, "what do you think he took me off active duty for?"

His words sent a jolt down your spine and a bloom of heat between your thighs.

His lips worked over the tender flesh there, kissing and sucking as he grinds his hips up into you.

"Apparently I am to tend to my needy little flame, and I am not to return to duty until we have a little spark of our own." His voice deepened in the way it only ever did when he was giving an order or intensely aroused.

"And since I have you here and you're awake now," his hardened length pressed to your entrance as he continued to flex his hips. "I figure now is as good a time as any to get started."

"My love~" his fingers quested down to begin preparing your body for him. The warm press of his finger against your already wet hole made you shiver. He rubbed tight circles as he adjusted his cock just so his every movement would grind it against your clit.

"Fuck, Vulkan, I need more."

He smiled and continued his slow torture. "Why rush, we have all night?" He replied, his teeth worried little trails of his love into the flesh of your shoulder. You knew you'd have marks to show for it later.

"Please, Vulkan, please!" You begged as the pad of his finger pressed in slightly but pulled away again.

"Are you sure? After such a long day I figure you'd need some time to unwind before anymore rigorous activities. Why not let me take care?"

You whined in response as his thick drooling cock pressed just right and made your hips reflexively jerk. "Throne damn it Vulkan. Please, I need you. I've needed you all day and especially during that stupid party."

Vulkan shifted, he raised his hand to lift your chin so he could look at your face properly.

"What happened?" His tone was serious, his burning eyes searching your face for any signs of harm, but he only found upset.

"Just nobles being stupid." You sighed but the biting words that tore you down still rung in your mind despite how hard you tried to push them out.

"It's nothing, I just.. I'm being too sensitive about it."

He shook his head. "No, tell me, I will see that this is handled. What did they say to you."

"That's just it, they didn't say it to me. At least not to my face, they didn't all their tearing down behind my back, but I could still hear them."

Vulkan kissed your cheeks. "What did they say?" He asked again, more gently this time.

You knew you had to tell him now, and so you did, all the shallow and awful comments. You felt like a child again, tattling to the teacher when the other kids were bullying you. "Like I said. It's stupid, and I shouldn't have let their words get to me."

"None of their words are true." His hands squeezed your hips gently. "They're jealous, I married the most wonderful woman in the universe and they are unable to handle such a truth." He kissed the side of your face and neck affectionately.

"I wouldn't say the most wonderful, that's a bit much." You replied, holding in a giggle as he attacked a particularly ticklish spot.

"Are you calling me a liar?" He grumbled into your cheek. "No, just an over-exaggerator."

He growled and the sound went straight to your pussy as his hold turned more firm. "Why does my own flame doubt me so terribly?" "I just don't think I'm worth the praise." You breathed as he growled again. "Who do you trust more? Your husband? Or the jealous nobles who live and thrive off gossip and tearing others down to retain their station?"

"You, of course."

"Good, then trust that by morning you won't remember anything they said to you or about you at that unnecessary function." He promised, and his finger took its place from before circling your entrance, except this time he pressed it in.

You moaned softly as he gave you time to adjust. But only just as he began to move his finger, making you squeak and wiggle back into his hand.

It was almost absurd how easy it was for him to drive your mind blank. "Just relax my flame, I will take care of you."

Another finger brushed against your soaking heat and you knew he was going to push it in even before he did it. He needed to ensure you were thoroughly prepared before he could just take you. When he pressed it in there was no sting or burning as there had been when you first were growing accustomed to him, but you did feel full, fuller than any other source, save for his cock, could provide. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, his voice warm and deep as he praised you for taking his fingers so well.

He continued to press kisses to your hair and face as he pulled his fingers free causing you to whine at the loss. "I was so close." You grumbled as he raised his love slicked fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a deep groan. "Oh my flame, you grow sweeter each time I taste you." His massive hands hauled you up his body further as he settled you over his face. "I believe I will need another taste." He swallowed and a quick glance over your shoulder revealed his hard throbbing cock. The first lick was so inhumanly hot, but his body was always like that. He moaned as he went back for another swipe of his tongue. His hands slid down to hold your hips, pressing you down on his mouth further and you relaxed your weight onto him the way you knew he liked. He rewarded you with another long lick before he plunged his tongue into you. You had been so close from just his fingers and you found yourself teetering on the edge again as he fucked your pussy with his mouth, groaning in pure ecstasy as he drank down every bit of juice you provided. "Vulkan," you gasped, "I'm gonna cum love. I'm gonna..." Your body shook and your thighs clamped around his head as he growled in satisfaction, his burning eyes blazed up at you as he watched you fall apart. His growl morphed to a groan as you came on his tongue and he lapped up every drop.

Carefully he laid you down next to him, his body shifting over your as his cock strained between his legs. "My flame, I can not wait any longer." You reached for his face cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss. "Then don't, please my Dragon, I need you as well." He gave you a flash of the ice melting smile and kissed you deeply as he pressed his cock to your entrance. "My love, you are so much more than anyone could ever dream, and I intend to show you just how much you mean to me. Tonight, and tomorrow and the day after and so on until you know just how deeply I love you." His cock sank slowly into you, inch by inch as he professed his love, until your body had stretched to allow him to sink almost impossibly to the base. "You see. Perfect, just as I said." His hand sought yours, holding it gently as he raised your fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to each one as he pulled back his hips and thrust back in. He had to show you just how much he loved you even when making love. The bed groaned under you as he thrust again, the feeling of being so full of him was electric, each thrust making little stars dance behind your closed eyelids.

He kissed one of your knuckles, thrusting in hard, but not enough to harm. "Kind." He murmured softly, thrusting in and kissing the next. "Intelligent." He murmured again, moving to the next. "Funny." He repeated the process, for each knuckle he kissed he listed another thing he adored about you. "Loving, beautiful." When he reached the last knuckle he turned your hand over, kissing your palm. "Good with my sons." He gave you a sly smirk at that one, knowing that you always got flustered when they referred to you as 'mother'. Trailing kisses up your arm he continued his compliments until he got to your collarbone, where his lips sealed against your skin and he marked you, leaving a hickey that would be near impossible to miss without a necked shirt or sweater. He looked over the mark and once satisfied he smiled and began his kisses again. The whole while he had been going at an even and maddeningly unhurried pace. "Please, I need you to go faster, I'm getting close but I just need more." You whined, begging him with not only your words but your eyes. "Eager." He said as he left another kiss, this just next to your lips. Teasing you. "Please Vulkan, Please." He wouldn't admit it allowed in the moment, but hearing the way you cried his name as he was thrust into you as deep as he was drove him mad with lust. It had been a battle to keep his wits about him as he heard each little whine or moan. His lips finally brushed over yours, "Most of all," he groaned as his arms scooped under your body to hug you closer to him. "I adore you for being yourself, I could not have married a better woman." His lips pressed to yours and you met the gesture with equal enthusiasm. It was then the damn broke and he was barely able to keep from slamming into you and potentially hurting you, but his thrust picked up, his need to fuck you properly over coming him as he let his need take over in setting the pace. His mouth moved with yours now swallowing your moans and cries as he fucked you into the bed, his arms still holding you close as the bed creaked louder in protest. He felt himself get closer and you were there with him, pussy clenching as you fell apart, your arms tightening around his shoulders as well, as you used his body to keep yourself grounded. You both came, your body milking his cock as he did and his thrusts continuing to ensure you properly came undone beneath him.The primarch spent the next several minutes kissing you, his small wife, as you basked in the afterglow. He hadn't pulled out and he didn't intend to. After all, his father had told him that he was to stay off active duty until such time as you had conceived and given birth and he intended to use that time to the fullest.

[moonybelgug]

warnings: fem!reader, children lmao, not much really, being referred to as 'mother', no smut, some drunken flirting. building relationships with the kids. i took so long to do this part...... sorries.,, part 1 part 2

After a month of getting your affairs in order, you’d like to think you’ve made some semblance of a job out of your situation. You started with watching Arlecchino, figuring out what it was that she did that made her the “Father.” It turns out, that was simply not showing emotion to the children and holding them to high expectations. But trying to convince them to open up to you was aimless, seeing as most of them had been taught that emotions were weakness, (you’re going to work on that later,) and do not even trust you to begin with. So you began in the kitchen. As much as you are not a cook, you know your way around some beloved childhood recipes, and so you helped the kitchen staff learn more homely food. Rather than something bland and fancy for breakfast, you give them the recipe to pancakes and you visit each child to ask what they would like their’s topped with. Lunches became a build your own sandwich buffet, which was met with more excitement that you anticipated and dinners stayed the same for the most part- protein and veggies. However, your presence alone comforted scared and picky kids to try new and scary foods they wouldn’t have before (and you snuck them something you knew they’d like afterward.)

It was a long day, but you had managed to lead the last group of kids to eat, the rest of them were either in the showers or in bed. You stood in the doorway of the dining hall, arms crossed as you watch them eat and chatter. A warm presence sidled up next to you, your arms brushing against each other. You saw less of Arlecchino than you had expected. She was also less involved with the children, or at least, from what you could see. You truly had no idea what she really did, you knew she was a harbinger and very strong but you couldn’t begin to fathom what she did outside these walls. You didn’t really want to. 

“Good evening, Father, are you joining us for dinner?” You ask her as she brushes against you. 

She hums thoughtfully, as though considering it as she always does. “Not tonight. But thank you for the invitation, Mother.”

You can’t help but blush and hope she didn’t see it. The way she says your title.. it feels as though she is purring it, tasting it in her mouth before speaking it. Arlecchino looks down at you from the visage of her children eating. “They are happier since you had arrived. How did you manage that in only a month?” 

“I’m not sure myself,” you say, feeling warm under her gaze. “I just.. I tried to live up to my name. I can’t help but want to know them all, even if a few of them scare me.” Though, none have threatened your life, seeing such young people with weapons is never a reassuring sight.

Arlecchino laughs and turns to walk into the main entrance room, away from the dining hall. You cast another glance at the children before following her.

She’s walking into the foyer, reaching for her coat. “Did I not scare you when we first met?” She asks, pulling her hair from the back of the gray jacket.

“Maybe a tad. But that’s because of how I was raised, you know that,” you say, pouting a little. She tuts, reaching for your cheek to pinch before she thinks about it and pulls away.. 

“Still so cute. You scared me too, you know. All bright eyed and excited, talking my ear off about things I couldn’t give a damn about. Reaching through that fence to try and touch me…” she sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll be gone for a while. I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

Before she gets too far out of the entrance, she hears you sigh disapprovingly. “Playing the absent father, are we?” It makes her chuckle. 

Thunder sounds all around you, shaking the Hearth and startling you from your sleep. Thunder was never a pleasant experience, but you wouldn’t say you feared it. But that was just your experience. There was a gentle knock at the your bedroom door. 

You wrap a robe around yourself, wondering who could be knocking at this hour and open the door a crack to see who was there and were met with tens of other eyes, all stricken with fear. You open your door all the way, unsure what to say at first in the face of these frightened children. Many of them were younger, but there were a few older ones among them, looking sheepish. 

“Well.. come along, if you’re coming,” you say, watching seven children file in.

It’s not long before you’re kicked out of bed by squirming children. You don’t mind so much, it was getting to hot to even sleep, much less with a bunch of squirming limbs poking you in the side this way and that. You take a trip to the bathroom, then out the window you see the rain has loosened up a bit, it’s still coming down but less so than before, and the thunder is all but distant rumbles.

You rub on the window, removing some of the fog and just happen to see a tall figure approaching the Hearth. Who on Teyvat could be visiting at this hour? You move to look at the clock ticking in the hallway. It’s midnight. Nobody in their right mind would journey all the way through the storm just to make an unplanned visit… unless they were attempting to enter without permission. 

You race downstairs in bare feet, your nightgown and making you appear threatening as ever. You make it to the door before they do, so you grab an iron poker from the fireplace as your weapon. Stealthily, you move beside the door, waiting quietly for it to click open so you can bash in whoever is trying to get in. This moment leads you to think about how there’s little to no security and it makes you shake your head. Perhaps the Fatui’s reputation doesn’t scare everyone away.

The doorknob clicks and then turns, opening slowly. You raise the fire poker above your head and prepare to bludgeon this person, but as you bring it down, the intruder catches it and pins you against the wall beside the door. She laughs, covering in water from the rain, shaking her head unceremoniously. You squint as a few drops land on your cheek.

“Per- What are you doing!?” You all but yell, remembering there are people sleeping.

Arlecchino kicks the door shut with her boot. “If I let you go, promise you won’t stab me?”

You roll your eyes and she lets you go. “I had to return to retrieve something. Didn’t think I’d bother anybody coming at night, but it seems I was mistaken.” 

Arlecchino stands up straight. She’s wearing something completely different from when you saw her only five hours ago, her cheeks are even flushed as though she had been drinking.

“What did you forget? I can fetch it for you,” you offer, lowering you weapon to hold by your hips. 

Arlecchino taps on her bottom lip, as though considering her options. “Dinner? Or maybe a spar, since you seem so apt to attack unknown trespassers. Or, maybe some of those kisses you used to give.” She grins, leaning into the juncture of your neck and jaw, running the tip of her nose down to your collar bone. 

She was definitely drunk. If that line didn’t tell you, the wine on her breath did. 

“Father, perhaps you should lie down-“ 

“Doooon’t call me that,” she groans, her palm coming to her forehead as if it gave her an instant migraine. “Call me anything but not that. In fact, call me Peruere again, hm?”

Her arms encircle your waist before her hands settle on your hips. She gives your nightie a passing glance before lifting her eyes to yours. “So? What’ll it be?” She asks with a smirk. You assume she’s talking about the options of what she wants from you. The kitchens are closed down and you’re definitely not fighting her, so it seems you’re left with one option.

“If I kiss you, will you cooperate and tell me what you’re doing here?”

“I swear, on my title as a harbinger,” she grins. 

You sigh, looking at her rosy complexion  and then you lean in, kissing her gently on the cheek. She tilts her head leaning into it, closing her eyes. Her head turns slightly, your lips glancing over each other. You can’t help your blush as you pull away but her arms tug you closer. You brace yourself at her shoulders and create some distance. She’s clearly wasted and far be it from you to allow this to go further than it already has. You catch her inhaling the scent of your hair. 

“Peruere, what is it you came here for?”

She doesn’t answer for a while, her eyes avoiding yours. You never could read those dark eyes, and you never notice how they pull you in, like a magnet. Standing up straight, she takes your left hand, running her thumb across your knuckles before stilling at your ring finger. Her nail digs into the diamond before she releases your hand, leaving you warm. “Apologies, Mother,” she says coldly. Suddenly sober, she lets you go, adjusting her clothes. “I should see you soon. Don’t forget your duties.”

Before you can argue with her about that retort, she leaves, shutting the door firmly. 

The next morning you wake up feeling hot with a heavy weight on your chest, before you remember what happened last night. It’s still raining outside, but it seems that Celestia had calmed down. 

But you jump all the same when your door suddenly flies open. A maid stands there, holding a case, but her eyes widen at the sight of four children laying on your bed and three laying underneath and your helpless face being the only part of you she can see. 

“Your… finacè is here to see you,” she says softly. 

[grenadehearts]

don't forget to kiss me, or else yuji.itadori

in which your bf is even more awk then you..

authors note: f!reader so scared 2 post this.. i feel like its so ugh also not proofread! 2.2k words! m.list <3

You and Yuji were always so awkward around each other, to the point that it led to completely red faces and twitching fingers.

Sure, he was a lot more outspoken with strangers and friends, while you were always on the quieter side. And when you did get comfortable with someone, you tended to talk too much.

You envied Yuji a bit. He always knew exactly what to say, and even when he didn’t, he had the charm to make it work anyway. But it was more than that—he had this boyish charm that sent you reeling, making you kick your feet in your dorm room late at night, squealing into your pillow while playing Beabadoobee on repeat, thinking of him.

You still remember the first time you saw him—pink hair, wide brown eyes, and the cutest smile ever. You were smitten from the beginning. Too shy to talk to him, though. Then, during a mission, you had been paired up with him and Nanami. He kept trying to talk to you, making funny remarks or simply attempting conversation. At one point, he had stared at you, scrunching his face in pure confusion, as if analyzing some small detail. Then he pointed to the corner of your eye, where your glitter eyeshadow shimmered, and said, "That's really pretty." All while rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile.

He was the only person who ever really talked to you—aside from the forced interactions Gojo pushed onto others. You figured there had to be something wrong with you. You were too odd, always saying the wrong thing, laughing at the wrong time, tripping over your own two feet. No matter what, you never seemed to fit in or draw anyone’s attention.

That was until you met Yuji.

Even after that compliment—after the pale pink dusting your cheeks at this super cute, jacked boy noticing you—it still didn’t feel real. This only happened in shoujo anime, right? Yet, despite your awkwardness, despite the way you choked on a simple thank you like you were forcing down thick cherry cough syrup, Yuji just laughed it off. A deep chuckle that reverberated through his body and yours—light, airy, utterly intoxicating. You wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of your life.

He had rambled about makeup, specifically special effects makeup, explaining how he was a huge movie lover. Then he got super engrossed in talking about the behind-the-scenes aspects of some of his favorite films—Human Earthworm, which, he eagerly added, was a trilogy.

You barely said a word, too shy to contribute much. But he didn’t seem to mind. It was like all he wanted was someone to listen.

A few days after that mission, you had been speed-walking out of class after an awful day. Some girl from a higher-up class had made crude remarks about your appearance, and you swallowed them down like bile, trying to ignore them. But you had barely managed to hold it together because, later that morning, you had to present in front of everyone. Your hands were clammy, your words tumbling out like a mess of jumbled up alphabet soup, and the tiny class of sorcerers had laughed at your mishaps.

Then, not even twenty minutes later, some guy knocked into you, spilling your matcha all over your clean uniform. And, oh yeah—did I mention you had spent your last seven dollars on that matcha?

You grabbed your leather tote bag—buckles adorned with a Nana keychain, your purple jellyfish Sonny Angel peeking out for good luck—and rushed out of the classroom doors, heading across the open field back to the dorms.

Then, a strong hand and a voice too sweet to ignore stopped you in your tracks.

"Hey! Hey! You, uh, dropped thi—actually, I’m not sure what this is... A naked baby, it looks like? But it fell out of your bag."

Your entire body froze. Your heart pounded in your chest. You knew that voice.

Yuji Itadori. The sweetest, kindest boy ever. The boy you had a massive crush on. The boy who absolutely could not see you in the state you were in.

Panicking, you turned around, clutching your purse up to your face, burying yourself behind it in a weak attempt to hide your tear-streaked, mascara-smudged disaster of a face.

Yuji blinked, looking around the empty courtyard, then up at the clear blue sky, as if trying to understand what you were even hiding from.

"Hey, uh—"

"Ilooksgrossrightnowthatswhyimhidingmyface," you blurted out in one breath, voice muffled behind your bag.

Yuji just laughed—a full, lighthearted fit of laughter. "It's okay, but I think you’re always pretty."

Your grip on your purse loosened slightly, your face still half-hidden as you peeked at him through your lashes. "You do?"

He gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah." Then, after a beat, in a soft, hesitant voice, he asked, "Can I see your face? Um, uh—if that's okay with you or whatever."

He paused, then quickly added, "We can count to three if that helps?"

You swallowed hard and gave a tiny nod.

His hands hovered slightly before reaching out, hesitant but warm. "Can I, uh... help you with it?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but he seemed to hear it anyway. You nodded again.

His fingers wrapped gently around your wrists, steady and firm but not forceful. Then, with a soft countdown—"Three... two... one..."—he lowered your hands, revealing the mess that was your face.

Your beet-red cheeks. Your raccoon-like mascara stains.

Yuji’s eyes widened slightly as you hiccuped, trying desperately to suck in the snot threatening to form a bubble.

"My face is beet red, isn't it?"

He let out another laugh, this time softer. "Yeah... but so is mine."

You blinked, taking in his expression. The dusting of pink on the tips of his ears, the slight blush running up his nose, the way his eyes crinkled nervously.

You quickly began to rub at the smeared mascara around your eyes, flustered, when he hesitated—then took a tiny step closer.

"I can help?" he offered, voice quieter than before.

You nodded, unable to speak past your pounding heartbeat.

With delicate care, he lifted the sleeve of his uniform and gently wiped away the mess on your face.

Ever since that day, you and Yuji hung out more and more. He even introduced you to his friends, and you and Nobara quickly became best friends—though she heavily expressed her distaste for you dating Yuji, simply because “he’s gross, and you’re too good for him.”

Yuji was loud, outspoken, and seemingly everywhere at once, yet when he was alone with you, he was different. He was quieter—more hesitant.

Laying on your cramped twin bed, adorned with every single plushie he had ever won for you in the two months of dating, he looked so much softer. Your shabby dorm room at Jujutsu High was practically his at this point—he never left, always finding some excuse to be curled up next to you, legs tangled, warmth mingling between your bodies. Whether it was coming in late from a mission, all beat up so you sat him on your toilet to bandage his wounds because you knew he wouldn’t care enough to do it himself, or a simple, “I miss you.. and the way you smell.”

But despite this level of comfort and closeness, you were both still utterly awkward around each other. Even now, lying in bed with your pinkies barely ghosting the space between, desperate to touch but too afraid to bridge the gap. Sure, you’d wake up tangled together as Yuji hogged the covers, but that was always after exhaustion had taken over—when neither of you had the energy to be nervous. But this? This was different. You were both awake, wide awake, too aware of every movement the other made. The soft shuffle of his weight against the bed, the slight twitch of your fingers, the low whirring of the crappy fan in your room, the faint vibration of his unchecked phone.

Yuji only ever got notifications when they were important, and you both knew that. But he didn’t care. It was like nothing else existed outside this moment. Whoever needed him would have to stomp into this room and physically drag him away from the dim glow of your orange-pink lamp, from the scent of your perfume clinging to the sheets he was laying on.

When seconds felt like hours, you finally turned to Yuji to say something—anything to break the tension. But just your luck, he turned at the exact same time.

His brown eyes bore into yours like he could reach in and grab your very soul with gentle hands, rewriting your entire being if he chose. You both stared, studying every subtle movement, every shift in expression, until the weight of it became too much. Suddenly, you were both too aware of each other.

The weight of it had both of you snapping your heads away, blushes creeping up your necks.

Yuji was always an awkward mess when he was alone with you— from fidgeting with the hem of his red Jujutsu hoodie, to walking around your room picking up random objects and pretending to be interested, like a kid trying to play coy.

 He’d constantly go to grab your hand, only to let it fall last minute. He was completely different from how he was around others.

And now, here you both were—blushing, internally panicking over each other—until, when you turned to face him again, he was already hovering over you, peering down as if you were a fish in a fishbowl. You sucked in a breath, eyes wide, and whatever confidence he had for that split second disappeared in an instant. Because now, seeing you up close, so close he could count every speckle of glitter from your makeup, he lost all nerve and buried his face straight into the crook of your neck.

Which only made things worse.

Your shampoo, your perfume—the warm, sugary scent of it all sent his mind reeling. It made him want to kiss you even more than he already did, which, at this point, felt nearly impossible. He had been waiting for the right time, telling himself over and over that it had to be perfect. But the truth was, he had been thinking about it for months—spacing out in class, staring at your lips, wondering if they tasted like strawberries from the gloss you always wore.

And now here he was, completely surrounded by your scent, his hands twitching with the urge to pull you closer.

Before you could think, your fingers moved on their own, shaking slightly as they inched toward his hair, aching to tangle in his soft pink strands. But just as you moved, Yuji suddenly lifted his head, mustering every ounce of courage before blurting out in one rushed breath:

“Ireallywannakissyoucani?”

Then, immediately after, he smacked his hands over his face.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, heart hammering in your chest as you whispered, “Yuu…”

Slowly, you reached for his wrists, gently prying his hands away from his face. His skin was warm under your touch, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. You didn’t have to say the rest—he already knew what you wanted.

He pulled his hands from yours, biting at his lip as he laced his fingers with yours instead, pinning your hand to the pillow above you. He shifted, slotting his leg over yours, his other hand lifting to cradle your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin.

Your eyes flickered over his face, watching every shift in his expression as he leaned closer, breath mingling with yours.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, voice low, almost reverent.

He leaned in, inch by inch, breath mingling with yours. But before closing the gap, he hesitated. “You sure this is okay?”

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you curled your fingers into the nape of his neck, tugging him forward, crashing your lips against his.

And it was everything.

The kind of kiss that made you slam your door shut before sliding down it in a fit of giggles.

His lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of brown sugar. It sent your stomach swirling, the kind of feeling that made your chest ache in the best way possible.

When he pulled back slightly, a thin trail of saliva still connected you, his pink cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, like he needed to look at you just to make sure this was real.

Then, with newfound confidence, he kissed you again.

This time, when his tongue slid past your lips—hesitant, waiting for permission—you let him in without a second thought. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped you. That sound alone had Yuji’s other hand moving from your face to your waist to grip your body closer to his. 

Kissing Yuji was like ladybugs dancing on your skin. Like the jingle of the ice cream truck on a summer afternoon. Like the mist from a sprinkler lapping at your feet on a hot summer day as a child when your only care was scoring the best popsicle flavour. Like the first sip of hot chocolate when it grazes your tongue and cocoons your body in warmth, as you come in from the bitter sting of the cold. It was like being wrapped in blankets cozied up with a book. The only sound echoing is the pitter of the rain on the window.

It was everything good, everything sweet, like the taste of cotton candy melting on your tongue.

p.s if u realized the title was a bea lyric then ily mwahhh

[tkomptgoedluv]

tear you apart.

grumpycafeworkervampire! joost x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, internetcafe & vampire au, very much the ‘he hates everyone but her’ trope, even more so the ‘who did this to you?’ trope, reader’s boyfriend is an asshole and deserves everything he gets, joostie has a crush and it’s bad, light stalking, hurt angst and comfort all in one, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 5,040.

warnings: descriptions of an un-specific mental illness, cheating, descriptions of self harm, mentions of & scenes of DV, violence, gore, rpf.

notes: hello!! thank you guys so much for waiting on this even though it’s been over a month since we all lost our minds a little over vampire joost. i’m very proud of this one, even if the ending is kind of rushed, and i may or may not have already planned out parts 2 & 3 as well so please lemme know if you want a series out of this! (if you don’t say yes then juno might kill you btw). this fic also comes with a MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING so please read at your own risk and stay safe!

love you all lots — enjoy!! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

the whole point of joost setting up his little internet cafe was that he needed something simple, for a while. something quiet, something normal. he needed to get away from his life with the band, and away from all of the blood and guts that came right along with it. for once, he wanted to be invisible.

that’s what the cafe was supposed to do for him; become an escape, of sorts. he wanted to spend all day, everyday, sat behind that desk of his, with earphones in his ears and a magazine in his hands. if someone needed help with one of the computers or something, then he’d do so, but only with a roll of his eyes and a scowl on his face. anything more than that and he’d flip them off, flash his fangs at them maybe, and laugh as they’d run out the door, screaming.

he didn’t want to talk to these people, his customers — a lot of them he actually couldn’t stand. they were messy and far too loud for his liking, always leaving their rubbish on the floor and shouting at each other. but at the very least they were simple, so he could handle teaching them how to find youtube and cleaning up after them if it meant that they’d all leave him alone. besides, he still had his ways of disposing of the ones that just wouldn’t behave themselves.

but then you had to come along, didn’t you?

you, with your big sad eyes and your soft, soft smile that was such a rarity to see. this plan of his, you were ruining it and you didn’t even know it.

joost could never admit it to himself, but he was a little infatuated with you. all you ever did was just sit in the corner, as far away from everyone else as you could possibly get, and stare at the computer screen until your eyes would grow too heavy. it made you such a stark contrast to the rest of them that joost couldn’t help but feel something towards you, even if he wouldn’t show it.

he found himself quickly learning your routine, making a note of how you only ever came in at night, no earlier than nine o’clock, and always left before the early hours of the morning. he had no choice but to notice how you always had the same heartbroken look on your face, with red-rimmed eyes and a frown pulling down at your lips. and he could never ignore how you only ever seemed to wear clothes that were at least a few sizes too big for you, always drowning in the fabric of old hoodies and sweatpants.

all of these little things that he couldn’t stop himself from knowing about you…well it was all a little bit weird, wasn’t it? because joost, he was yet to speak to you, to even acknowledge you, really. only when your back was turned would he ever dare to glance in your direction, and even then it was quick, only ever from the corner of his eye.

whatever this was, this thing joost had for you, it was starting to blur the lines between a normal, human crush and borderline stalking. that was why no matter what, it could never be anything more than just a few glances here and there. no matter what, he had to stay away.

joost wanted simple, and you just weren’t that.

but like all of his other plans, you had to go and ruin that one too, because then you started to smell.

not of anything bad, of course, just of blood. and to joost, everyone smelt like blood to some extent; it was one of the many consequences of his particular…lifestyle. he should’ve been used to it by then. the sweet, sweet smell of you shouldn’t have almost knocked him off of his chair when you walked in that day.

at first he just assumed it was nature taking its course; you were a girl after all, and it explained the constant grimace on your face. but after a week, the smell hadn’t gone away — now four months later, it was still there. if anything, it was only getting stronger.

like tonight, there you were, sat in your usual spot right by the window, and joost could smell it. he could barely concentrate on reading his magazine the way it was making his head spin and his heart race. for a human,

a scent like that wasn’t normal; despite his better judgment, joost found himself worrying about you.

even more so when you started to cry at your desk.

your head was down and your hands were hiding your face, muffling the sound. no one else around you could hear it, they were too engrossed in playing their silly little video games to really notice. but joost wasn’t like them, was he? he could hear it. he could hear it over the sound of a ‘SUM 41’ song playing on full blast in his ears, in fact.

it made him freeze in his seat, his hands grip the pages of his ‘SPICE’ magazine a little too tightly. then he looked over at you only because he knew that you wouldn’t see it, and caught a glimpse of your shoulders shaking slightly. the sight alone made his eyebrows crease and his knuckles turn white, but it was your small gasp of breath that made him growl.

everyone’s head turned at the sound as the click-clacking of the keyboards ceased, and suddenly joost had sixteen pairs of eyes all staring at him. the only one that hadn’t looked up was you, who merely flinched at the sudden noise as you finally lowered your hands, only to wipe your nose and go back to staring at your computer screen.

in slow movements, joost slammed his magazine down and kicked his feet up off of his desk, muttering a low ‘we’re closing, everyone get out.’ with a cigarette still hanging from his lips. when nobody moved he rose from his chair and stubbed out his cig into his garfield-shaped ashtray, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

that was all it took to get everyone up, shoving their shit into their pockets, and heading out the door. you went to stand as well, having already pulled your hood well up over your head in preparation for the hard-falling rain outside. but you stopped when you heard the guy at the reception desk clear his throat not just once but twice, his attention only on you as everybody else made their exits.

“not you, grey hoodie. you stay.”

joost could hear a ringing in his ears from how silent the room became once the last person had left, the cafe door swinging shut behind them, it’s sign now reading ‘closed: come again soon!”

there was a certain…hesitation behind the way that he moved closer to you. behind the way that he grabbed a new cigarette from his pack, letting it dangle between his lips as he pulled up a chair next to you. the absolute last thing that he wanted was to wind up scaring you, somehow, even if the look on your face told him that you already were.

joost could see you shaking, could see all of the tears welling up in your eyes no matter how many times you tried to blink them away. he could hear your heart hammering away inside your chest, the rush of warm blood inside your veins. for once, maybe for even the first time, joost was starting to regret having the reputation that he did.

“i know i’m not exactly known for my ‘outstanding customer service’, but i just want to make sure that you’re okay.” he paused only to take a drag of his cigarette, the ash falling down and dirtying the denim of his jeans. “are you okay?”

no, you really weren’t.

without a word you turned away to press the ‘on’ button of your computer screen, its cold, blue light casting a dark shadow across your face. it showed him exactly what you had been looking at before you’d tried to leave, having forgotten to properly log out first. whilst the receptionist leaned forward and squinted at the screen, you let your head hang low to hide the fresh tears that burned along your waterline.

you’d been scrolling through facebook rather aimlessly when you came across the picture. at first, you thought that it was just an old one someone had reshared simply for nostalgia sake; one of those ‘on this day five years ago’ type things. then you had seen that it had only been posted an hour ago, so you tried convincing yourself that it wasn’t actually him in the photo — even though he’d been tagged in the fucking thing.

whether you could accept it or not, it was very much him. it was him sucking on the neck of your best friend, at a party he insisted that you couldn’t go to.

“what exactly am i looking at here?”

but to joost, it was just a picture of what he guessed was a house party. the girls were half dressed, the guys were clutching onto their beer cans, and nobody in sight looked sober. not exactly something worth crying over, he thought.

“that’s uh, that’s my boyfriend right there…and that’s my best friend next to him.”

he didn’t say anything for a minute; he didn’t really know what to say. joost just kept glancing back and forth between you and the computer screen, with his lips ever so slightly parted and the cigarette between his fingertips long forgotten about. he understood it now, and couldn’t blame you for any of the tears running down your cheeks anymore.

“for what it’s worth, i’m sorry. dude’s a fucking scumbag for doing that to you.”

you merely chuckled, the laugh coming out all dry and hoarse. “you have no idea.”

it was a small comment, maybe just your own way of saying ‘yeah, i know’, but something about your choice of words made joost frown. he didn’t like the gut feeling it gave him, nor did he like the way he saw you flinch again, this time at the way he raised his hand, though only to toss his now burnt-out cigarette into the bin.

it was making him think, making him realise that, that definitely wasn’t the first time you’d reacted to something so minuscule like that. how even the slightest of movements normally had you ducking your head and cowering, with your shoulders all bunched up by your ears. and it was making him wonder if there was maybe another reason behind the clothes that you wore, besides how you just ran a little colder than the average person.

the crease in joost’s eyebrows deepened as he swivelled his seat more to face you rather than the computer, and rested a careful hand on your knee. as you looked up, he swapped his frown for a smile that you just about managed to mirror.

“i’m here if you wanna talk about anything, okay? i’m joost.”

when you told him your name back, he acted as though he hadn’t know what it was already.

the sudden ringing of your phone cut through the soft silence like a jagged knife, the sound of your shitty, pirated ‘AFI’ ringtone bringing a genuine smile to joost’s face as he got up to walk away. it was merely a formality at this point, stepping away to give someone a bit of ‘privacy’ whilst they took a phone call. joost could be all the way across the street and he’d still hear it, whether he was trying to or not.

although admittedly, this was one he was purposefully trying to eavesdrop on. he caught a glimpse of the caller ID — saw the bright red love heart next to the name ‘levi’. since it matched the name tagged in the photos, it was a safe assumption to presume it was the boyfriend calling.

he hoped to hear the guy grovel, begging on his knees for your forgiveness or at the very least offering you some kind of explanation. anything to prove this gut feeling of his wrong. but even the shouting from the other end of the line made joost wince, his palms starting to sweat as he began tidying up the other desks.

it started out as just pure name calling, accusing you of facebook-stalking his friends and not trusting him, that you were ‘fucking crazy’ and a ‘stupid little bitch’. then it became about how he’d already made it clear that you weren’t to go to the cafe tonight, not under any circumstances, and he could see online that you were.

joost really did try to busy himself, tried to grit his teeth and bear with what he was hearing this asshole scream at you. he wasn’t supposed to have been listening, anyway. he was supposed to have been staying away, like he was always meant to.

but he just couldn’t take it though, could he? he couldn’t handle hearing this boyfriend of yours threaten to beat you black and blue, and not for the first time this week. he had to storm across the room and snatch the phone right out of your hands, flipping it shut to disconnect the call. honestly, he probably would’ve smashed the fucking thing had you not taken it back from him and slipped it into your trouser pocket.

“tell me he didn’t mean that.”

you weren’t given a chance to scold him for his eavesdropping, even though you weren’t entirely sure how he was able to hear your conversation in the first place. joost was already staring you down, his arms crossed and chest heaving as he towered over you. you could almost feel the anger he radiated; see the darkening of his eyes and flare of his nostrils.

it was no wonder that you couldn’t look at him; you didn’t have the guts to.

“tell me he doesn’t fucking hit you.”

you couldn’t.

you couldn’t lie to him like that. you weren’t quite sure why, you were lying to everybody else in your life about it. he wasn’t the first to ask you that kind of question, and he wouldn’t be the last, either. but you just didn’t have it in you to try and feed him the same old bullshit that you always fed anyone else that asks you about it. chances were, he wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

so instead, you showed him. still with your eyes focused on the wall behind him, you peeled off that god-awful hoodie and let it fall to the floor, leaving you to shiver in a thin, white t-shirt. it exposed each and every single one of the bruises that levi had given you, both old and new, as well as those half-a-dozen little cuts that you’d given yourself.

you felt joost’s fingertips trail along every single one of the marks, gently brushing along the skin of your arms and only stopping once he reached your wrists. he hesitated then, though only because he didn’t want to hurt you anymore than you already had yourself. it was with such a delicate hold that he took your arms in his hands, turning them over in the light just so that he could see it all a little easier.

“this wasn’t him, was it?”

you already knew what he was referring to and so you shook your head, still too scared to meet his eyes. if you had, you would’ve seen his own tears welling up in his.

this was what he had been smelling. all those spots of blood pooling underneath your skin, slowly turning into bruises. the thin, red lines that ran up and down each one of your arms; some old and scabbed over, some not. all of it, every single mark, was why he could always smell so much blood on you.

joost didn’t even know he still knew how to cry, it had been so long. he hadn’t shed a tear in years; not since way before the…change. and you were the reason that streak was broken now, because he soon found himself dropping your arms to wipe the wet from his face, further smudging the dark eyeliner around his eyes.

“fuck, okay, we’re gonna…there’s a pull-out bed in the back, we’re gonna make you a bed for the night — for as long as you need. you’re not going back there.”

he was pacing around as he rambled, wiping the snot from his nose as he did so. by the time you’d pulled your hoodie back on he had a whole plan laid out for you, the kind that had you moving into the cafe, sleeping in the staff room, never to see your boyfriend again.

it was getting harder and harder to believe that this was the same guy that you’d heard so many horror stories about. all the gossip, the whispers, the rumours, they all painted joost out to be some kind of monster. yet here he was in tears over you, doing laps of the room with his hands pulling at his hair in a panic, all because he knew your secret now. knew that you’d been dealing with enough monsters of your own to know that he wasn’t one.

“why do you care, joost?” your voice betrayed you as you spoke because with each word it waivered, coming out all cracked and broken until you could barely say anything at all. “you don’t know me.”

“i do! i mean, i know enough to know that a guy like that is gonna fucking kill you one day and that can’t happen, okay? it can’t. do you understand that?”

in a moment of weakness he made his way back over to you and placed his hands on either side of your face, gently tilting your head up so you had no choice but to look at him. under the warm, yellow lights of the cafe you could see every ounce of fear in his eyes, feel the shake in his hands as he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ears.

“i’m sorry. i know that this is a lot and you don’t really know me like that but i need you to trust me, liefde. i’m gonna keep you safe, i promise.”

just like that, every single one of those little promises that he’d made himself about staying away from you, gone.

you found yourself nodding before you’d really even given a thought to what it was you were actually agreeing to. just as long as joost kept looking at you like that, you’d probably agree to anything.

“okay, okay, that’s good. just…stay here, alright? i’ll be right back.”

you blinked, and you were alone.

the staff room door was open ajar now, with a dimmer, yellow light spilling out. there was a lot of faint rustling around; a few little bangs and crashes followed by some muffled swearing. besides that and the rain hitting against the cafe windows, it was silent — almost eerily so.

it gave you the space to actually try to understand what it was that was happening. joost was back there setting up that bed for you, turning the cafe's staff room into a makeshift bedroom, just as he promised. you wouldn’t be going home tonight, not tomorrow, maybe not ever. as for levi? it was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you weren’t ever going to see him again.

you took a seat back at your desk, closing each one of your tabs and logging out of whatever websites that you needed to. myspace, youtube, facebook; you had to stop and stare when that fucking picture popped up again.

calling her your best friend was a stretch, she was always more his friend than she ever was yours, but still, it stung. besides joost now, she was the only one who knew your secret, who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and seen him hit you so hard it knocked you clean off your feet. she still convinced you to stay, giving you the exact same excuses for it that levi did.

he was always stressed and going through something that you just wouldn’t understand, and you were always the one making him feel worse, so it really couldn’t be his fault then, could it?

you were just about to close that very last tab, the cursor hovering over the big red ‘x’ in the top right-hand corner, when the front door swung back open. the sudden ding of the electronic doorbell made you jump, as did the bang of the door frame slamming against the wall. you heard his voice before you saw him standing there on the worn-out welcome mat, soaking wet and seething.

“i fucking knew you were here.”

levi.

even from where you were sitting you could smell the alcohol on him, see the glazed-over look in his bloodshot eyes. peaking out from the collar of his jacket were small, dark hickies dotted all across his neck and there was a faint smudge of pink smeared across his bottom lip. he hadn’t even had the decency to clean himself up, to wipe the last speck of her literal fucking lipstick from off of his face.

“you little fucking bitch, what did i say to you, huh? i told you to stay home. why is it that you can’t ever fucking listen?”

“i’m not doing this with you, levi.”

he laughed at what you said, more so chuckled, darkly underneath his breath. he always found it funny when you tried to talk back to him, refusing to do whatever it was he demanded or throwing back any of his endless insults right back at him. it didn’t happen often because when it did, you’d pay for it.

“oh yeah? you’re not gonna ‘do’ this with me? who the fuck do you think you are to say that to me?” when you didn’t say anything else and turned away from him, deciding to instead face the now black screen of your computer, he continued. “cmon, get the fuck up, we’re going home.”

you didn’t move. you focused on your breathing, focused on the feeling of the grey cotton between your fingers as you played with the fraying threads of your hoodie’s sleeves.

“i’m not talking to myself here. i said get up!”

levi’s voice bellowed from all the way across the room and you could’ve sworn that it made the keyboards shake. still, you stayed exactly where you were, making it clear to him that you weren’t going to be going anywhere tonight — especially not home, especially not with him.

being ignored like this was almost worse than anything you could’ve possibly said back to him. you've never done that before, never tried to disobey him quite so outrightly. you had always been one to break as soon as he’d raise his voice, a shadow of a smirk curling the corners of his lips as he’d dare you to say whatever it was again.

only this time, you weren’t saying anything at all, and he really didn’t like that.

his strides over to you were so quick that you didn’t have any time at all to react before you were being yanked out of your seat and dragged back over to the door. you were tripping over all of the other chairs as you tried to pull your arm free, begging for him to stop and to let you go whilst he dug his nails deeper into the flesh of your forearm.

it hadn’t even occurred to you that the background noise of joost moving furniture around couldn’t be heard anymore, that the staff room door was no longer closed ajar and instead now wide open. it hadn’t even occurred to you, not until levi was being teared away from you, leaving behind a small rip in your hoodie and faint claw marks in your skin.

from where you were standing now, you couldn’t see much anymore. tall, broad shoulders became the barrier that separated you from levi, keeping you hidden away from him. you weren’t sure how long joost had been back there listening, how he was able to intervene so quickly or how he had the strength to toss your boyfriend almost to the other side of the room. you were just grateful for it, for him, and tightly clutched onto one of his arms so that he couldn’t disappear on you again.

“woah, what the fuck is this? who the fuck are you?”

levi had knocked into a couple of desks as he stumbled but eventually found his footing, his leather jacket hanging off of his shoulders from where joost had yanked at it. he shrugged it back on, eyes glued onto and glaring at the man you were cowering behind. neither of you expected him to start laughing like how he did, a deep, bitter chuckle that somehow made the air around you feel colder.

“so this is what she’s been doing here all this time, huh? been fucking around with some freak behind my back?”

“get out.”

there was no laughter in joost’s voice, no humour peaking through the cracks of his expression. there was only a silent begging behind his anger, a slight pleading in his words because joost already knew how this would end if levi didn’t turn on his heel and run.

but levi just wasn’t one to listen, was he?

instead he made a beeline for what was now your bedroom, supposedly, with no regard for the ‘staff only’ sign that was stuck to the door. without even taking a full step inside he could see the sofa bed that had been pulled out for you, decorated with scattered cushions and a messed up, old white duvet. it didn’t matter that it actually wasn’t what it looked like, because he’d already made his mind up and seeing that was all the ‘proof’ that he needed.

so levi wasn’t laughing anymore as he slowly turned around, now in a position where you were in his full view. he could see how you had yourself wrapped around joost’s arm, almost hugging it, and was starting to shrink under his gaze. he stared you both down for a moment before he locked eyes with you, his teeth gritted and jaw twitching.

“you fucking whore, you’re so fucking dead -”

he’d charged at you with one hand balled up into a fist and the other stretched out, a single finger pointing right at you. you jumped back and away from joost, your arms up and shielding your head as you turned away and readied yourself to feel it. a hard knee to the stomach, a sharp pull at your hair, something.

you only moved again when you heard a small whimper; an impossibly pathetic sound that you’d never heard before, but one that only levi could have made. you lowered your arms and raised your head, and immediately crashed into the desk behind you, choking on a cry that became lodged in your throat.

joost; sweet, misunderstood joost had his hand plunged inside levi’s chest, his fingers wrapped around and squeezing at his heart. those once soft blue eyes of his were now a deep, glowing shade of red, and as he grinned, you caught a glimpse of two long, sharp fangs. blood stained his lips and dribbled down his chin as he took a chunk out of levi’s neck, swallowing down every last piece of flesh and spitting out the odd little bone.

and he started to moan into it with each large gulp that he took, becoming so lost in the pleasure of it all that for just a moment, he seemed to forget that you were there. it had just been so long since he’d last indulged like this — feeling that warm rush of blood slide down the back of his throat, the heavy pulse of his prey slowly growing weaker and weaker.

joost didn’t stop until whatever was left of levi’s head was in one hand and his still heart was in the other, his body already turning cold at his feet. he easily could have stayed there for a little while longer, gone in for seconds and thirds perhaps, when he finally hears you. he hears you choking on your tears, on the single breath that you were holding.

you hadn’t been able to look away even though you had so desperately wanted to; you could feel the image of levi standing there all helpless, his mouth bobbing up and down as he tried so hard to scream out, burning into your eyes.

“liefde?…”

his voice was so gentle, sounding almost frightened, and yet you still jumped when joost finally spoke. he was just standing there staring at you, eyes all wide, with blood smeared across his face and splattered across his button-up shirt. even as he stood above the body parts of your boyfriend, joost somehow looked small now, like a dog that had been found chained to a fence for a few too many days.

for every step that he tried to take towards you, you took another five back, carefully inching your way closer and closer towards the front door as you did so. you could see it start to click in his head, the welling up of tears in his eyes as he glanced back and forth between you and the door.

“no no no, please, please don’t do that. i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry. please, i’m not gonna hurt you, please don’t go.”

joost took another step forward and you shrieked, bumping hard into the wall behind you, scraping your elbow against the brick. you hadn’t needed to say anything after that, hadn’t needed to beg for him to let you go because you watched him recoil, his hands held up in surrender.

you took one last look at levi, at what was left of him.

“fuck, i didn’t…i’m so sorry, liefde.”

and you ran, without ever looking back.

[klutzyroses]

Hihi! I hope you’re having a lovely day and that you’re well! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 of the jealous suitors where the MC has a lover, but in this scenario what if her and her lover broke up due to him cheating on her and how the suitors would react?

Thank you very much!

And I hope you're having a great day too! Enjoy!

IkeVamp HCs: Reader gets Cheated on

How do they react when the when the woman they love has an unfaithful partner?- Follow up to this hc.

Suitors: Leonardo, Mozart, Arthur, Comte

Leonardo

His first thought was to comfort his cara mia.

Well, not his and he couldn't think about that anyway, not while her heart was so freshly broken.

You know what he meant.

When he found her sat in the backyard, curled up with Lumiere and crying into his black fur, he knew there was no leaving her alone.

When he heard the reason for her tears, he didn't give the cheater another thought. She was the only one who mattered to him. He wasn't happy but he also wasn't going to waste even an ounce of energy being angry about him.

He rather focused on seeing her less hurt, less broken down.

"Take it easy, cara mia. Don't get so down on yourself. Those pretty eyes aren't for sad tears."

He patted her head as his deep voice uttered soft reassurances. He'd hate for her to overlook how precious she was because of a selfish man who couldn't see it.

Mozart

Part of him was darkly satisfied that he was right all along. That man was not good enough for her after all.

But the majority of him is coldly angry that he would dare treat her that way.

Say what you will of Mozart, but loyalty was important to him in a relationship. He couldn't understand the prospect of being unfaithful to the woman you supposedly loved.

Why did the fool even bother with her if he was going to wander like this? How classless.

He, with more gentility than his words usually offered, sat her down and helped her clean her face.

She was too beautiful for tears, though he was not going to tell her that.

"Don't waste your tears. Not on him."

Seeing her upset hurt him, his love for her, hidden as it was, didn't permit him to leave her like this.

Arthur

When he heard what happened, his heart sunk down to his stomach.

He once thought this was what he wanted, deep down in the darker recesses of his being.

Somewhere in him, and he was not proud to admit this, but he was hoping for Y/N's boyfriend to mess up in some way, any kind of way.

He was sorry he ever thought that as soon as he saw her tearstained face.

His sunken heart cracked when she looked him in the eye and asked her if there was something wrong with her. Why she wasn't enough for her ex.

The only thing on his mind now was to make her feel better. Make her realize that the tosser was the one who lost. Not her.

"Oh Y/N, what rotter would ever let you go? He is a right wanker, mark my words."

He wiped a tear from her lovely face, his own set with certainty and compassion for the woman he still loved.

Comte

He ached when she poured her heart out to him over a cup of tea.

When Comte found out that her boyfriend had cheated on her, he was shocked.

He couldn't fathom how any man could look at another when he had Y/N. Inexplicable.

His emotions were less focused on the man, but more on her and her wellbeing.

Yes, he was galled by the audacity of the scoundrel and he had better hope they never crossed paths, but at the moment, she was his priority. Because nothing hurt more than seeing her hurt, her beautiful face red and damp with tears of shame and humiliation.

He would give her the sun and moon wrapped in a bright red bow if it would make her feel better.

"Let me show you how you ought to be treated, ma cherie."

He knew material items couldn't substitute for love, but he wanted to spoil her, treat her like the queen she truly was.

🌸

[captainstressed]

so ive been working on a post-breakup bucktommy fix it for a hot minute and she's almost finished so i wanted to share the first chapter here before i put the entire thing on ao3.

its starts from the 'tommy's bubbling me' scene from 8x07 except its from tommy's pov. its mostly hurt but i swear the comfort is coming!

title: i love you, im sorry. word count: 1341 chapter: 1 of 2/3

Tommy hit backspace, deleting the drafted text he’d written to Evan with a sigh. Dropping his phone beside him on the couch, he reached out to grab the open bottle of beer from the coffee table and took a long swig. It wasn’t far off three in the afternoon but Tommy couldn’t bring himself to particularly care; he’d come off shift within the last hour and wasn’t scheduled back in until the next day, it also wasn’t as though he was planning to have more than one or two. He needed a distraction, something to temporarily cloud his mind that wasn’t Evan. Buck. He’d lost the right to use his given name the day he walked out of his loft.

It had been just over two weeks since the break up; fifteen days if he was counting, which he was. He had ran the conversation over in his mind an infinite number of times since then and each time he hated himself a little bit more.

“Did you just break up with me?”

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

He slammed the bottle back down on the table with more force than necessary. He was a fucking coward. He’d been a coward back when he was at the 118 and he failed to stand up for Hen and Howie against Gerrard; Tommy had been battling his own internal demons but that didn’t excuse his behaviour then and it sure as hell doesn’t now.

He had told Buck that if they ended up moving in together, then the younger man would end up breaking his heart; something that he wasn’t sure he would be able to move on from. The irony of it all was that through his own cowardice actions, Tommy had beat him to it and succeeded in breaking it all by himself.

Bringing his hands up, he pressed the heals of his palms into his eyes. He felt the sting of tears and took a breath, willing them to remain at bay. He had no right to cry, not when this was all his fault. He had broken up with Buck; had panicked at the thought of moving in with him. Not because he didn’t want to, but because when his heart was inevitably broken, the fallout would have been too much for him to fathom.

Tommy wondered if this imaginary scenario would have left him feeling anything like the way he felt right now. His palms were wet, the stars dancing behind his eyes the only outcome of his efforts. Swiping the tears that were only replaced by more a moment later, he wiped his hands across his jean clad thighs and tipped his head back against the back of his couch.

His fingers itched to grab his phone; he wanted to call Buck, apologise for being such a coward, for joining the list of people who had walked away from him and beg him for another chance. It was selfish, he was selfish.

He didn’t deserve Buck; Hadn’t been deserving of being his first relationship since discovering his true identity. Buck had trusted him, had let Tommy in. The two of them shared words and experiences that were completely new to Buck and it made Tommy feel sick that he had taken these things from him, with the promise of protecting them and him only to run when his own insecurities got in the way.

Curling his hand into a fist, he bought it down on the cushion beside him. The movement jostled his phone and lit up his home screen; his background was a picture of an LA sunrise, which to anyone else wouldn’t seem particularly special but to Tommy it held precious memory.

It had been taken a few months prior during one of his early morning runs, by Evan. Tommy had mentioned to him that one of his go to’s for winding down after particularly gruelling shifts was to hit one of the many hiking trails and if he was lucky enough to finish a shift before the day had officially started, then he could sometimes catch the sunrise. It was a way to remind himself that in spite of the often tragic calls he dealt with whilst at work, a new day was just on the horizon and with it the renewal of hope and possibility of brighter times to come.

He’d thought the idea was beautiful and asked if he could accompany Tommy sometime should their shifts lineup. They ended up going one morning after Tommy had finished a forty-eight and Evan was due to start his own a few hours later. They’d found a perfect spot to watch the sunrise and paused their run to drink it in. Evan had taken a picture just as the sun was peaking over the horizon, setting it as his phone background and almost shyly explaining to Tommy that this way whenever he looked at his phone it would remind him of not only the reason behind it but also of Tommy.

It had been one of the many times in which Tommy had wondered how he got so lucky as to find someone as adorable as Evan. He’d even asked him as much, which earned him a blushed smile that Tommy couldn’t help but kiss off his lips. Before asking him to send him a copy of the photo and setting it as his own background too.

Tommy could have changed it in weeks since the break up, probably should have done if he’d had any desire to move on. He wondered if Evan had changed his; selfishly he hoped he hadn’t.

He stared at his phone until the screen went back to black, mulling over his scattered thoughts before picking it up and unlocking it. It reopened back onto his text thread with Evan, they hadn’t spoken to each other via text since Howie’s wedding and the memories of that day and night settled heavily in the pit of his stomach when he compared how he had felt then to how he felt now.

His thumb hovered over the bubble to start a new message; Tommy knew what he wanted to say, what he’d wanted to tell Evan even before they broke up. He had never called his own feelings towards Evan into question, self hatred threatened to bubble to the surface once more when he reminded himself that the only person he had called into question was Evan himself.

Evan who had never been anything but open and honest with Tommy from the start of their relationship. Sure, he’d put his foot in his mouth a few times at the start and sometimes he got a little ahead of himself, but it was one of the many things Tommy loved about him.

Tommy loved him. Loves him.

But he let him go because he’s a coward.

With a sigh, he tapped the bubble to send a new message but paused. After weeks of radio silence Tommy knew it wouldn’t be fair to drops these heavy feelings on Evan straight away. If at all a voice in his head snarked. What if he was too late? What if Tommy ending things had been the wake up call Evan needed to realise that though Tommy had been his first, he didn’t want him to be his last and these last weeks had just helped cement those feelings.

The thought caused him physical pain. His entire reasoning behind breaking up with Evan in the first place had been to shield his heart from inevitable break, but it had quickly become apparent that he was destined for this fate regardless. He couldn’t allow himself to consider that Evan loved him back. He hadn’t deserved it before the break up and he sure as hell didn’t now. The difference now however was that he felt as though he had nothing else to lose, and he owed Evan the truth no matter what the outcome may be.

Fuck it.

“Can we talk?”

Tommy held his breath and hit send.