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cheyisagirlkisser · 1 day ago

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⃠ CYBER SEX. (SEVIKA + VI + READER ) ⃠

➤┆pairing: sevika + vi + fem reader

↻┆word count: 3k

⚠︎┆warnings: dom! sevika + switch vi + sub! reader, sevika guides you and vi through phone sex, degrading names (whore, slut) and nicknames (angel, good girl, Sevika is called 'Vika once), teasing, fingering + clit stim + strap-on sex (r! receiving), slight pain kink, mentions of vi receiving from sevika, threats of punishment from sevika, mentions of sexism from sevika's male coworkers (she's in construction).

Description: Sevika is the main breadwinner in you, her, and Vi's. She makes a lot of money, but is also often busier than the both of you. The week-long business trips are something she doesn't look forward to-being away from her girls for days to weeks at a time. You and Vi decide to make matters worse for her when you get feel neglected on a call that was supposed to relax your exhausted girlfriend.

You'd think after countless business trips away from home that Sevika would be used to the separation, but no. She misses you and Vi more than anything. She finds a stupid grin forming on her face when she imagines the both of you on the couch, probably watching something she would make fun of and eating junk food. She keeps telling herself she only has two days left to go. Then, it's the four hour road trip until she can finally give her girlfriends some attention.

Sevika's longing is loving. It's soft and sweet, though anyone else would find that to be rare from her. You and Vi just bring out that ooey-gooey part of her heart out. With that lead to sweeter-than-chocolate kisses and late nights that she knows she shouldn't be awake for, having to wake up at 5 in the morning, but ends up between the two of you anyway.

Her current mood is anything but horny. She is tired after a long day of construction work and being around dickhead coworkers, and she could use a shower to wash off the sweat from her body. Sex isn't exactly the priority in her mind.

Still, she imagines that it'll be like to return home. You and Vi must be so needy. You always are after a week without Sevika. The routine is all the same—walk through the door, take a quick shower, and fuck the brains out of you two.

You're a bottom through and through. You couldn't top even if someone was pointing a gun to your head. Vi, on the contrary, has no reason to. She could if she was in the particular mood for it, but why would she? Sevika takes care of both of you best. She knows that you love being held down and fucked, how you like Vi's thumb on your clit adding onto the pleasure. Sevika knows that Vi likes it more complicated. Vi likes to pretend like she isn't as flustered as she truly is when Sevika has her legs open and her pussy on display, but the girl can get even wetter than you can at times. Everything is in routine, and that is just how Sevika likes it.

Sitting in her hotel room, Sevika waits impatiently for the call. Earlier, Vi sent a dry text requesting a facetime. That didn't raise any suspicions in her head. Almost every time Sevika leaves for a trip, either you or Vi send something asking when she is available. It makes her heart jump to think of her girls being without her. She wonders how Vi fares without someone to tell her not to punch a hole in the wall, and instead use the punching bag Sevika spent a ridiculous amount of money on. She wonders how you fare without the constant reassurance. You're on the overthinking side, and Sevika has probably said enough to put into a book. She doesn't mind it one bit, though.

This time, Sevika feels extra excited to talk. She just wants to kick her boots off, see you and Vi's faces, and forget about having two more days of hard labor.

She wants a distraction.

You and Vi have been dying without Sevika.

Usually, the days go by fast. You're both able to wait for Sevika's touch. You don't have to think too much about the way her fingers would feel in you, and Vi doesn't have to fuck herself on the dildo attached to Sevika's strap to manage. Today, however, both of you seemed to break.

It started with Vi.

(EARLIER..)

"She wouldn't know if we did it. How would she?" Vi inquires, leaning in. Her hand that has been teasingly rubbing your thigh for the past 30 minutes is creeping upward. Her voice is quiet, as if Sevika is able to hear her from countless miles away.

"C'mon, Vi.." You shoo her away, moving her hand back down to safe territory. "We can wait two days. Plus, I think it's only you that's all horny. I've been doing fine."

Vi snorts at that. "Are you fucking kidding me? Babe, you've been all over me all day."

"Okay!? What does that have to do with being pent-up?" You scoff at her, punishing her by breaking eye contact. Your gaze falls back onto the tv in front of you.

Vi doesn't scooch away to her personal space. Instead, she leans in. Her breath tickles your ear, making you swallow back your guilt because fuck, just her proximity is making you wet.

"What do you mean, 'what does that have to do with being pent-up'? You're basically begging to be fucked. All the hugs and kisses..the way you've guided my hands to your waist each morning when we wake up.." Vi tests you by inching her hand back up, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You turn to face her, and that is when Vi knows she has you. You're like a fish she can just reel in. Your bait runs cheap, too. "But, Vi..I don't wanna keep anything from Sevika. We would be fucked if she found out." And no, not in a good way..

The smile that spreads across Vi's face scares you. She has something going on in her head—it's that same face she makes before she goes Christmas shopping, the same glint in her eyes that sparkles on April Fool's day.

She cups your face to hold eye contact, and then she leans in until your lips are nearly touching. Your most pathetic but natural instinct is to squeeze your thighs together.

"Then let's make sure she knows what we're going to do tonight."

When Sevika answers the call, she is greeted with the familiar sight of you and Vi on your shared bed.

She can immediately tell that Vi is using her laptop to call because the quality is slightly better, and she can see both of your bodies instead of just faces. Vi usually never uses the laptop for calls unless it's for a specific reason, but she doesn't question it tonight. She just wants to see her girls.

You're seated comfortably in Vi's lap, where it isn't exactly rare for you to sit. Still, something feels different about the view. You don't have the same excited expression. You look nervous, as if you have something to hide from Sevika. Perhaps if Sevika wasn't so exhausted from the job today, she'd notice the scheming written all over Vi's face.

"Hi, baby. Hi, Vi." She greets you both, her voice thick with a fatigued rasp.

"Hi, 'Vika!" You smile at her, making her heart melt slightly. All feels right when she can talk to the both of you.

"Any sexist comments today?" Vi asks her.

Sevika scoffs. "Wouldn't be a normal day without one."

Conversation is normal and comforting for Sevika. It always is.

You tend to remind Sevika how much you miss her when you talk. You ask her if she misses you, if she's tried the cookies you baked for her trip, if she has been thinking about you. Vi asks the work related questions. The sexism question is always a go-to.

"Of course. What was it this time, something about how your coworker's wife just stays in the kitchen and you should, too?"

Sevika shakes her head. "Nah, not today. That was last month's. It was this guy, really short and ginger. Overheard him talking shit about women with muscles on them. I guess he didn't want me to hear, 'cause he looked all pale and skittish. Super fuckin' quiet. I could hear the dumbass, though."

Sevika goes on about her day to Vi, and Vi visibly nods along. She doesn't seem to pay too much attention to it at first, but as she complains about her coworker Ricky not knowing how to read a blueprint, she sees Vi's hand almost fully between your legs. In those pajama shorts you're wearing, it leaves nothing to the imagination. She can see the way Vi's hand almost slips inside them from the bottom, rubbing teasing circles on the inside of your thigh.

"You're pretty handsy, don't you think?" Sevika snorts, not thinking much of it.

Vi's answer catches her surprised, "well, this thing has been begging for it all week."

Sevika's eyes narrow and her face heats up, but you seem caught off-guard by Vi's words as well. You don't comment on them, though. You don't make a move to pull away from her embrace. In fact, Sevika can now point out the way you almost instinctively move to shut your legs around vi's hand. Vi will tap your leg and you quickly open back up to Sevika's view.

Sevika sighs, brushing it off. "Anyways, just wanted to say I missed you both. It's been a long fuckin' week. I was planning on going to bed soon, but-"

You let out a short, but noticeable moan when Vi's fingers circle your clit through your shorts.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on with you two?" Sevika demands, annoyance clear in her voice. But behind it, you can hear some ounce of arousal.

"I told you. This slut's been all over me, Sev." Vi simply states, not giving away any future plans. She doesn't stop with her ministrations, and Sevika has to helplessly watch as you needily writhe under Vi's touch. Three hands firmly rub your clothed pussy, and all you can do is whine and whisper in Vi's ear for more, too scared to speak up loud enough for Sevika to hear and have a reason to bend you over her knee when she gets home. Sevika notices, though.

"Are you seriously about to fuck her on camera? I'm not messing around, Vi. Cut the shit, or I'll make you regret it the moment I step through the door." Sevika growls.

"What's wrong with me taking care of her? She needs me, Sevika. Look at her. I gotta give her what she wants before she's your problem on Friday." Vi abruptly peels your pajama pants off of your body. Even in the slightly grainy video, Sevika can see the wet patch on your panties. You already know you'll still be Sevika's problem when she gets back home, but you don't care. You want to get fucked now, and Vi's touch leaves you a bit forgetful when it comes to the potential consequences of this.

Now, Sevika is pissed. She is both pissed off that she has to deal with you and Vi's bullshit, but she is also turned on. That makes matters worse. She wants to say fuck it and just let herself enjoy the show, but if she does, she'll have bigger problems to worry about.

Since you, Vi, and Sevika have established the sexual dynamic of your relationship, Sevika has had a reasonable amount of control over you and Vi. She has dished out her fair share of consequences when either of you acted up, and eventually, there was a clear dynamic. You've always been Sevika's angel: listening to everything she says, laying down and taking it like a good girl, not complaining when you don't get fucked or when Sevika is in the mood to tease.

Vi has always been on the brattier side. She likes to complain. She enjoys testing how much is too much, but even this situation is shocking to Sevika. She'll have to spend hours putting the two of you back into place when she comes home instead of fucking you and falling asleep with you in her arms and Vi on her side. But maybe that is exactly what the both of you need.

"Go right ahead and fuck her, Vi." Sevika says, finally causing a stop in Vi's movements. You whine in protest, but neither Sevika or Vi pay any mind to it.

"Seriously? You're okay with it?"

Sevika shrugs, adjusting on the bed. "Just know that there will be consequences. I'm too tired to threaten you now, Vi."

That should scare Vi. She knows that Sevika is tired, and that is where the sudden leniency comes from. If anything, Vi should take that as a sign to just call it a night.

Instead, she chooses wrong.

"That feel good, baby?" Vi coos, two fingers pumping in your wetness. There's a strap-on adjusted around her hips that wasn't there earlier, and Sevika is mostly silent as she takes in the view. You let out a whorish sound, and Vi laughs down at you. "Yeah, I know. It's exactly what your needy little cunt needs."

"No more teasing, please." You try to clutch Vis' wrist and pull her hand away from your dripping cunt, but her playfully smacks your hand away. "Just fuck me!" You whine.

"Jesus christ," comes an exasperated sigh from Sevika. Watching the scene in front of her, she pretends like it doesn't make her just as wet as your leaking pussy. She has to keep some level of control.

"Are you hearing this, Sevika?" Vi refers to the embarrassingly loud squelching noise coming from between your legs. Vi's fingers don't let up, though. She likes listening to the wetness and feeling your clit twitch underneath her thumb.

"I think the neighbors can hear it."

You moan at the sound of Sevika's voice. It sends a lightning bolt to Sevika's poor cunt, but she won't give you the benefit of the doubt of masturbating to the scene in front of her. No, she'll wait until after the call to get herself off in the hotel shower..

"You heard her, Vi. Fuck her." Sevika orders. Vi rolls her eyes, but relents in her teasing torture.

Vi's fingers slide out of you, and she pulls your now naked body down onto the bed to lay on your back. The mushroom head of Vi's (Sevika's) strap teases your glistening folds and you try your best to move your hips up enough to slip it inside of you, but one of Vi's hands pins you down on the bed.

"Beg Sevika." Vi demands, grinning above you.

Your face turns towards the laptop on the edge of the bed, and you can't help but moan when you feel the silicone tap your swollen clit.

"Please, Sevika. Please tell Vi to put it in me." You beg.

"Will you be a good girl for her?" Sevika asks you, and it takes everything in her not to rush out of the hotel and into her car to fuck you herself.

"Yes! Fuck, I promise, Sevika. I'll be a good girl for you, too."

I'll be a good girl for you, too.

The sentence echoes in her head. You don't see this as only a you and Vi thing. The thought of you wanting to please Sevika too has her hot and weak.

"Fuck my good girl, Vi."

The toy slides in you with ease, no lube necessary. Vi groans above you as she pushes her hips forward, slowly sinking further into your pussy. She feels like a starved woman after not fucking a girl for so long. Sevika takes great care of her needs, but she can't deny that this situation has been a fantasy for her for a long time.

"Fuck, you take this cock so well. Your pussy needed me. Needed to be fucked like a whore." Vi grits through her teeth, beginning to fuck you at a steady pace. Her hips snap forward and pull back, only to slam back into your greedy hole.

You only answer her in a series of broken moans. Sevika watches the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, and she imagines her own hands groping them or her tongue swirling over your nipples while Vi fucks you.

"Give her tits a small smack. She likes that."

Before you can process the instruction, Vi's hand lands a slap on one of your tits. You gasp, peeking down at the now reddened skin. She doesn't do it again until Sevika encourages. "There you go. Do it again, the slut likes it when you give her some pain."

Vi alternates between your tits, shooting delicious bolts of paint throughout your breasts as she fucks you. Her thrusts grow more erratic and deep. Her hips meet the back of your thighs each time they move forward, and you can feel the curve of the toy brush against your g-spot while the tip kisses your cervix. This is what you were neglected of.

"She looks like she's about to cum, Vi. Give it to her nice and deep. She likes it that way, that's how I always get her to cum hard." Sevika says, and Vi fixes up her pace, nearly slamming into you each thrust until your bodies become flush when they meet.

"Vi!! Oh my fucking god-" you moan, your orgasm washing over you. Vi fucks you through it, and Sevika stays quiet as she admires the show. You writhe underneath Vi, pawing at her back and mindlessly begging for more cunt-numbing treatment. She gives it to you until the overstimulation kicks in and you beg otherwise.

Vi, now a breathless, crazy-haired mess, collapses onto you. She buries her face into your warm neck and hugs you tight, particularly clingy after sex. You feel calmed down (and satiated) now that you just feel the sweet Vi that you know and love. Her chest presses against you, but the intimacy that comes from it is more soft and gentle than anything sexual.

"You okay?" Sevika asks the both of you. Vi gives a weak thumbs-up, and you nod. When Sevika is assured that both of you are okay, she lets out a slightly scary laugh. At least, you think it's a laugh.

"Both of you are so fucked when I come home."

taglist: @waitaminuteashh, @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz

#arcane #arcane x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x you #sevika smut #vi x reader #vi smut #vi arcane #vi #vi x fem reader #vi x you #vi x y/n

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natanielkovack · 3 days ago

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hii katsuki x shy reader headcannons maybee??

Omg, Yess!!! Thank you for the request, Qyuin! :3

I'm scared of flies... I'm scared of guys...

Katsuki Bakugo x Shy! Reader headcanons ; gn, fluff, comfort.

Ever since the entrance exam, Bakugo didn't pay much attention to you. It wasn't because he was actively ignoring you, you just didn't really talked or participated.

The first time he realized your existence was in the physical testing with Aizawa. It was just a brief moment, but he tried to learn your quirk to somehow beat you in battle.

To him, you were just another extra in the way, another person he had to beat in order to be the N° #1 hero, so he was surprised by your sudden calm and friendly behavior as days passed by.

Of course, he answered with his usual yelling and cursing, telling you to go away and leave him alone. But you never gave up in trying to know him.

Bakugo would secretly keep every detail you give him. At first he would do this with everyone, but as his closet grew full of things he got rid of almost everything... Still, he couldn't get rid of what you gave him.

He would look at you with annoyance when you miss his Monday doodles, silently handing you his notebook for you to draw something small.

At first it feels like a one sided thing... Until you notice how he gives you the bigger portions of the food he cooks for the class, the juiciest parts and the sweetest servings of those cakes Sato bakes.

He knows you're shy, it used to annoy him so much. You would always take so long with talking while handing him something, but now he finds himself looking forward to those clumsy speeches you give.

He's really understanding, but he also understands that you have potential and a lot of it. In class he would tell you to rise your hand when you know the answer, taking your wrist in his hand and raising it for you. It feels like a mini heart attack, but that satisfactory feeling that you answered correctly is so relieving.

He will always follow those with an "I told you so" and a grin before looking back.

Everyone noticed his change in behavior, how he grew sweeter with you. He even knew what you wanted without you even talking... Everyone knew except Bakugo himself and that made everyone so angry at him.

That man is so oblivious to his own feelings.

You can't really tell when your "nervous because of people" turned into "nervous because of Bakugo". Your heart beats faster, you want to be so close to him, you start drawing more hearts and writing sweeter words and oh it makes Bakugo so... Happy?

He thinks that you've somehow infected him with your shyness or something because why else would he blush and feel so warm when you're close? He sees you running away more often, now the letters and drawings just appear in his backpack and he feels his heart missing a beat everytime he sees it.

It takes a few hangouts with the bakusquad before Mina snaps and hits the back of his head, saying "You're more annoying than ever! Can't you see that you like them? Like, you blush and all! Everyone knows! Get a grip!" And he seems to contemplate his whole life while everyone laughs, is that what that was?

He tries talking to you once... Twice... The third time he starts getting angry and there's no fourth time because he decides to do it your way.

His writing is honestly so lovely, a drawing at the end with a heart saying everything he feels. From how he hated you for being like a scared mouse to how he wanted to protect you.

He didn't knew how to look at you the next few days, his eyes darting from you to any other space he could.

When he grows the courage to ask you out you feel like fainting, because why is Thee Bakugo Katsuki asking you out? But you're with him holding hands while walking in the blink of an eye.

He's so sweet and knows when to stop his borderline cruel jokes and comfort you, never judging when you feel so much anxiety for things that are common for others.

He doesn't care that you go speechless when he holds you while watching TV on the common room's couch, it is nice and even you know you'll get used to it... Right?

He cooks for you constantly, he thinks is only fair to give back all you've given him that way.

At first he takes his hand away from yours because of how insecure he is of his sweat, but you just slowly search for his fingers to intertwine yours and the world stops around him.

You slowly grow more comfortable, being more vocal with him about your thoughts and even rambling about nothings. He doesn't ever complain, getting to listen to your voice is such a privilege that he doesn't ever wanna risk losing.

He's so proud to see you growing, working with your shyness instead of against of it, your charm never lost and you're so kind, he could never get tired to see you interacting with the world.

Bakugo makes fun of you from time to time, Joe red you get when he's too close and how your voice lowers when he teases you, you're just too cute, can you blame him?

But he would never be cruel to you, he likes to comfort you. Both of you laying on his bed and hugging, something he would never admit but he loves.

He just loves being around you, you're polar opposites and he can calm down around you while you get more talkative with him.

You're shy, not quiet, at least not around him. And he has learned to be a lot calmer when he's with you, the way his heart beats like crazy balances out that need for constant stress.

A/N: I hope I did good TwT I've read a lot abt Bakugo but I still feel like he's ooc, he's actually really complex! Thanks for requesting, this was so much fun!! (^з^)

Hey! Natan here! ; wanna read more about Bakugo? ; check out my masterlist.

#mha headcanons #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #shy reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

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neigepomme · 2 days ago

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˙ ✩°˖ ☃️ soft patience / zayne x reader

synopsis; zayne's the bestest boyfriend in the world when you're going through cramps — even though some misunderstanding led some tears to shed.

🍎 pomme's notes - psst! my asks are open! taking some quick requests :D i'm in a writing mood!!!!

⋆ 500 words / fluff / reader is afab (mentions of periods!) / 2nd person / super self-indulgent :3c

i think zayne would be so very patient during your periods. of course, there's the whole doctor thing, and while he is your physician, he is first and foremost your boyfriend.

that man's got the patience of a saint. if you ever blow up on him because of the cramps and the nagging, he stays quiet and steps out, and you're just left wondering if that was his last straw (spoiler alert — never. you're as stuck with him as he is with you).

you're left stunned. how could he just walk away like that? you're just having a hard time. you didn't mean to drive him away — you care about him so deeply, but god, does your head hurt, and your stomach has been aching so so badly.

when the initial shock dissipates, and you start feeling the tears welling in your eyes, the door to your shared apartment opens again, and zayne walks in with a bag of takeout from your favorite place and chocolates.

when he catches a glimpse of your teary eyes, his eyes widen in return, and he puts down the bags to focus on you, worried if your cramps were more painful than usual.

"are you okay love?", he says softer than usual, as if to not disturb you.

"i- i thought you had-" you stammer in between deep breaths, trying hard not to start crying, "i thought you'd had enough, zayne."

he tries to speak but you interrupt him again;

"i know i'm a pain right now but i can't help it, i'm — i didn't mean to be rude to you" a sob softly escapes you, "i know you care about me, but everything is just too much all at once now but please, don't leave me zayne, i'm so sorry."

his hands cup your face delicately slightly shifting your head up to see your face. his thumbs wipe away the tears now freefalling from your eyes, and he gives you an understanding smile.

"why would i leave you?", he hums a bit before speaking again, "i thought i'd let you breathe a bit and get some food for you. i know i was being overbearing, and forgive me for it, my love."

shaking your head, you profusely apologize in return and he laughs a bit.

"we look silly apologizing to each other this hard, don't we?" and that finally brings a smile to your face, managing to pull a breathy laugh out of you.

and in hindsight, maybe thinking that zayne;

the man who hides you away from jumpscares in the horror movies you insist on watching,

the man who texts you daily, checking if you ate,

the man who drops by your house just to give you a hug when you've had a hard day,

the man who would do anything to see you smile,

would leave you after an emotional outburst in one of your most vulnerable moments was a bit dramatic.

yeah. zayne would love you through it all. he's got the patience of a saint, doesn't he?

#⋆ pomme writes #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne #lads zayne #lads x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #i think all of us deserve our very own zayne honestly

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ssentimentals · 2 days ago

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hellloooo can u please do idol!coups x reader for sleep deprivation on cheol’s part with reader taking care of him xx

helloooo anonie, sure i can, thank you for requesting! 💜

prompt: sleep deprivation

you try not to hover. you try not to act like mother hen in fear of being annoying. you try but it's so god damn hard when seungcheol looks like a dead man standing. your boyfriend has always been a hard worker, that's one of the qualities you admire about him, but his work ethic is also your biggest worry. seungcheol is present but just barely - you are sure that he didn't hear majority of the things you said with his mind being very, very far from here, buried in new dance routines or lyrics that had to be finished. it's amazing to see how work energizes seungcheol and gives him purpose, but it's horrible to watch him crumble under pressure. slowly you reach out for his hand, giving it a light squeeze: 'cheollie, baby. you're with me?'

seungcheol blinks at your touch and it takes him few moments to sit up straighter on the seat and send you a fake smile. 'yeah, baby, sorry, i'm here. what did you say?'

god, you can't believe this man wanted to pick you up after your work. seungcheol can't be trusted with a car now, not when he can barely focus. 'i asked if yuo're sure that we should go out tonight. you look really tired, cheol.'

he stubbornly shakes his head. 'no-no, i'm good. i'm so caught up at work that we haven't seen each other much lately.'

you kind of want to strangle and kiss him at the same time. he is so good for trying to make time for you amidst his hectic workload but he is so bad for not taking care of himself properly - you sigh loudly. 'when did you sleep last time?' you ask straight to the point. thank god for traffic at this hour, so you can fully turn to your boyfriend without paying attention to the road. 'you look like a zombie, baby.' seungcheol purses his lips and you instantly understand what's the problem. 'cheollie... you can't fall asleep?'

seungcheol sags in the passenger seat, looking embarrassed and done with himself. 'yeah,' he admits quietly. 'i- it's so fucking stupid. i don't know, i'm trying everything but it's just not working.' he sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly. 'i don't think i actually slept properly in the last 4-5 days.'

this admission breaks your heart. seungcheol is running on fumes and yet despite it all, he still is here, with you, because he doesn't want you to feel neglected. without thinking you enter new address to the gps, knowing full well what can help him this time. 'instead of the restaurant, let's have a picnic,' you announce in an overly enthusiastic tone.

'at eight pm?' seungcheol asks, confused. 'i mean if that's what you want then i don't mind but-'

'that's exactly what i want.' you squeeze his hand, sending him a small smile. 'no worries, baby. we are very close.'

it doesn't happen often, but it did happen before. sleep deprivation is, unfortunately, a part of seungcheol's life as an idol and you learned hard way how to deal with it. familiar scenes of home or studio don't calm him mind down, but fresh air and water always help. you park the close as close you can to the river and roll down all windows, letting cool evening breeze in. 'alrighty,' you turn to him with a gentle smile and snatch small blanket from the backseat. 'you take this and get comfortable. i'll order us some food.'

seungcheol grabs the blanket, frowning. 'what is happening?'

'we are having a picnic in the car,' you explain, opening food delivery app. 'and you are sleeping until the food arrives, getting much needed rest.' seungcheol opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off: 'this is a date. this is our date that i want to have.'

the thing is, you don't really care about specifics of date as long as seungcheol is close. he doesn't look convinced at first, but when you start talking about your date with a quiet music on the background, he relaxes. it doesn't take him long to fall asleep - adjusted seat, warm blanket, fresh air and your hand in his do their magic. you watch quietly as his breathing slows; in sleep seungcheol doesn't look as tired. still holding his hand you adjust your own seat and lower the radio volume. seungcheol going out of his way to be with you makes you want to do the same; and if date is about you letting him finally sleep and guarding his sleep then you're not complaining, not at all.

a/n: writing this made me so soft :') pls give cheollie all the hugs and sleep he deserves!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups #seventeen scoups #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scenario #svt scoups #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen scoups x reader #seventeen scoups imagine #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol imagine #svt x reader #seventeen reaction #seventeen seungcheol x reader #seventeen prompt

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shuatm · 2 days ago

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small moments of intimacy ⃕ ♡ bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, & hwang hyunjin. gen reader. heart warming fluff. 921 words.

chan – routine is dropping both his bags and his career at the front door, shoes discarded and worries momentarily forgotten once the smell of your favorite food hits his nose. it’s a bit chilly in the apartment–you’ve probably opened the windows to let some air in again–but he doesn’t mind. he follows the stream of light into the kitchen where he finds you faintly humming the tune of a discarded project (his heart swells with a sudden burst of affection), standing over something hot on the stove. wanting to see you in your element, he waits a moment before letting himself be known.

he purposely buys clothing in a size one too big on him, partly for the comfort of being swaddled, and partly for his shameless liking in pretending not to notice your liking to taking his clothes. you stand in the kitchen, at ease with black hoodie number-whatever just barely brushing past your thighs, but he doesn’t care. it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it? it’s cause you missed him, didn't you?

routine is seeing your face light up each time you catch him peeking around the archway, grinning in the face of his sheepishness at getting caught over and over again. his arms circle around your waist, his hello faint. warmth was always near with you—even when you remember the open window once you feel him shiver.

minho – fingers tangle with yours in an uncharacteristic show of nerves, face vacant of anything other than cool indifference. hidden underneath the table, away from the prying eyes of the public, you squeeze his hand in hopes to ease his mind about the dinner reservation with your parents—they’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, you’d told him a way’s back. you were met with a small smile and a minho-esque comment about bringing flowers, laughing as he hounded you for wanting to impress your mother. the flowers sit next to him now, wrapped in parchment paper, but his antsiness persists still.

you don’t blame him for being nervous, even if he’d vehemently deny it up, down, right, and center. meeting the parents was always a big step—and knowing you both would be watched was enough to also want to hide under the table like a small child—but he’d wanted to be there. wanted to make a good impression.

your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in what you hope comes off as a soothing gesture. he meets your gaze for a moment, eyes roaming over your features, and squeezes back gently in response. he brings your intertwined hands up for a kiss against the back of your hand. sharing a smile, unbeknownst to your audience of two watching the two of you in your element with matching fond looks from a few feet away.

changbin – frustration seeps at the edges of your sanity, cold and unwelcoming. deadline after deadline piles upon your shoulders, forcing healthy habit after habit to be pushed further into the darkest corners of your mind to rust. lunch breaks become extra time to squeeze in just a few more letters to reach that word count, and your somewhat feeble attempt at a nighttime routine gives way to the few hours you’re even lucky enough to snag.

you don’t mean to push hangouts or leisure activities away, either. your texts are one-worded or forgotten with a reply unfinished in the bar, calls short with clear exhaustion seeping through your voice alone. he knows you don’t mean it. your space is your space regardless of if you fall back into your old ways.

so he leaves snacks where he knows you’ll see them, water bottles with post-it notes of shakily drawn smiley faces at the ends of words of encouragement or reminders to go outside for ten minutes or something funny jisung said at work he knew would make you laugh. he knows you’re sorry, that work is work and will forever be ever demanding, but he hopes you know he’s here for you through the sticky notes and crudely drawn doodles you now keep in a desk drawer safe and sound.

hyunjin – the cold weather sits as heavy as the piles of snow shoveled to the streets to clear the sidewalks, gusts of wind sharp to the touch against your skin even underneath your hat and thick gloves. you don’t even remember why you let yourself be persuaded to leave bed at this hour–but you certainly couldn’t forget the what. he’d been adamant about leaving your comfortably warm apartment for… for what, exactly? a surprise, he’d quip back with a grin, smile wide enough to make one spread across your lips as well. damn him for being cute enough to forgo a night of well deserved cuddling under the thickest blanket you owned.

hands shoved in his pockets, he squeezes your fingers excitedly, but looks over in concern when your hands begin to shake from the cold. his nose scrunches up in distaste, tinged a bit red from chill himself, and before you even think to open your mouth to poke fun at his sudden rudolph cosplay, he unwraps his scarf and begins to wrap it around your neck. your protests fall upon stubborn ears, and you can’t help but laugh when he glares at your attempt to unravel the little bow at the end.

his gaze softens, even as his shoulders bunch up from the loss of warmth. snow litters the ground in soft flakes, landing on your hat and your coat.

#archive #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines

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currentlysleepingus · 3 days ago

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I'm bored

let's make damian and danny have a mortician and gomez type of love.

Let's let danny be a known sought-after goth who everyone knows has a broken regeneration ability but can't prove it because he lets himself scar and can control when and where he regenerates. He wears stelletos and other heals and has a variety of weapons on him. People think he's a vampire, and he normally hangs out at the cemetery and such. He's a nightingale in this au, and the nightingales are the Addams family. Damian is smitten. Danny and him are in high school, Gotham Academy, and danny gets into fights with him a lot. They spar past first blood drawn and damian respects that. Let's make it enemies to weirdly stalker friends to lovers. They both partake in this, damian gets people, maybe tim, to dig stuff up on him and danny asks the dead about him.

Anyway, fast forward to them flirting and trying to court each other. Let's just say Gotham is terrified and happy for damian to have finally met his match. Danny once, during a galla slides in and, with his heart pulled visibly out of his chest resting inside a bunch of flowers asks damian to take what's his( his hearts) damian obliges and takes the flowers ripping Danny's heart out. Danny then gets up, he's taller than damian, and takes off his bloody shirt and courset and changes in front of him and asks him to go to dinner with his family. Danny doesn't button the top buttons of his shirt, leaving his chest out with the now gaping hile that isn't bleeding outta and tightens his courset. He tells damian that the food has a tendency to come alive, so he's going to have to impale it and kill it to eat it. Before he gets an answer, he takes a quill out of his pocket and stabs his arm, and then takes damians other hand to write out the date and address. And then waves goodbye, and while he's walking towards the window to jump out, he tells him to bring a vial of his blood so he can wear it. He leaves, and damien looks back at Danny's heart, opens it, and pulls out a necklace that has a vial of Danny's blood on it. He's smitten turns toward his horrified family and very proud Jason and says he's going.

Danny and damian give each other the heads of their enemies and wear each other's stuff. What if Danny's wedding courting includes fighting the father of your lover if their taking your last name. Like it could be in anything way the father chooses. I'm just imagining damain telling danny that he's taking his last name and Danny's like bet but you have to beat up my 'dad'( in this case imma make it his guardian aka the eldest male Dan) and danny wants to fight batman so he proposes that he challenges his father and damians like as you wish whoever wins gets to keep their last name.

Phantoms still a criminal and their both aware of the others hero identity but hasn't said anything. Please I want them to flirt in the weirdest ways.

Would Tailia approve of him?

The batfam are VERY concerned and wary of Danny and damians' relationship. Jason feels like he's watching a dark romance novel come to life and is here for it.

Please, I want danny eventually telling damian about being half ghost, and he then goes on to ask all of Danny's ghost friends and mentors on how to properly care and court him. They are ecstatic to teach him.

Anger management can also be in here. They like that but in more subtle ways.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #dead serious #batman #gotham #talia al ghul #damian wayne

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lara-cairncross · 7 hours ago

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my personal sonadow headcanons in no particular order bc im procrastinating on writing a research paper right now and its either do this or throw myself off the roof:

Shadow is a few inches shorter than Sonic, but ONLY if he takes his shoes off. cue many years' worth of shenanigans with Shadow doing everything in his power to avoid going barefoot in Sonic's presence because he knows if Sonic finds out he'll never hear the end of it (hes right)

T4T SONADOW

Sonic was able to get top surgery, but Shadow's body healed itself too quickly for it to work on him. flash forward to when he gets his Black Doom abilities and one of his first orders of business is to fuck around with them until he's able to give HIMSELF top surgery

Sonic hates coffee beans (too bitter) and Shadow hates chili dogs (too heavy/savory). they've broken up over this enough times for Rouge to lose count

Sonic is so good at flirting with everyone EXCEPT SHADOW. HE GETS TOO FLUSTERED. HE TRIES SO HARD AND IT NEVER WORKS BUT SHADOW IS TOO DOWN BAD TO CARE

Shadow grew up on a space station, with no biological reason to eat, and no access to fresh food or a kitchen. Sonic literally raised both himself AND TAILS. Shadow is NOT the cook between the two of them please everyone keeps saying otherwise and i dont understand it you cant convince me shadow knows how to boil a pot of water PLEASE SOMEBODY AGREE WITH ME

Sonic ages. Shadow doesn't. 50 years down the line somebody asks Sonic if Shadow is his son. Shadow immediately gets payback for 50 years of short jokes.

they are both so smart and so capable and so dangerous by themselves but if you put them in the same room in any context outside of a life-or-death situation they become the two dumbest motherfuckers you've ever had the displeasure of engaging in polite conversation with

shadow bottoms what who said that

okay this one might be silly but I feel like they would both be good at chess??? like Sonic is surprisingly well-read and more observant than people give him credit for, and Shadow probably had a lot of strategy training from GUN + played games with Maria on the ARK. idk i just feel like it would be a fun way for them to challenge each other outside of just racing/combat yknow

they both wear jewelry with each others' colors :] i usually make it earrings but i think Sonic having bracelets to mirror Shadow's rings would be really cute too

autistic Shadow and ADHD Sonic yes please yes yes yes

Sonic is the most verbally affectionate and Shadow is the most physically affectionate IM RIGHT YOU CANT ARGUE WITH ME ON THIS ONE IM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN GOODBYE

they like to beat each other up a little toooooo much and its kinda toxic maybe but also theyre both having fun so like. maybe its just a love language 🫶🫶

Tails is so, SO disappointed with Sonic for his choice in men. like he actively considers holding an intervention when he finds out that Shadow and Sonic started dating

theyre both somewhere on the aromantic and asexual spectrums because uhhhhhh so am i and i can project if i want to

Sonic is a chronic yapper and Shadow is a listener BUT. HEAR ME OUT. IT STARTS TO SWAP AS THEY GET MORE COMFORTABLE WITH EACH OTHER. shadow comes out of his shell and feels more at ease talking, and sonic appreciates having someone who doesnt expect him to be at full energy/optimism 24/7 and lets him be silent when he needs to be

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #ramblings

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kazumist · 14 hours ago

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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.

#( writings )#love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #love and deepspace caleb #caleb xia #lads caleb #caleb #x reader

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animasola86 · 2 days ago

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LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH7

You spend the night in the woods and find solace in Daddy's arms. Meanwhile, Mommy isn't too happy he disrupted her plans for the day...

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Dom/sub undertones. Pet names. Age gap. Size difference. Frottage/dry humping. Fluff. Angst. Fear of doctors. Medical exams. Date night with Mommy. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 6.3k 🔷️READ ON AO3🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6–7

A/N: So, spoiler but: in this chapter, Reader (more info on her listed in the last chapter's A/N) gets a birth control implant. Now, I am not an expert on birth control, not even that particular kind, I am just an author with a bit of research on her hands. And I will not explain in detail how it works or why I chose it, it fit my story telling needs, and that's why. Please educate yourself if you want to learn more and do not take a word I'm writing here at face value. This is fiction, and in fiction anything goes, exactly how I, the author, want it to go. ❗ (Please READ THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!) ❗

Chapter 6 🔷️ Chapter 7 🔷️ Chapter 8

The two of you spent the rest of the night huddled together on the hard floor, the food Daddy brought spread out in front of you. You were sitting between his legs, warm and cozy with your back to his chest (and his groin to your ass) as he leaned over you to reach for the thermos.

You were snuggled into the hoodie he had put into your backpack, while both of you were wrapped in the blanket. It was a picnic in the dark, with only the flashlight pointed at the nearest wall to give some light. He said his chef (it was still a somewhat otherworldly thing in your mind to have a personal chef) had prepared all kinds of finger foods, and while you expected chicken wings or fries or maybe nachos, it looked more like these fancy little snacks you'd only ever seen in movies (canapés or something? You weren't sure).

There was also a container full of cut fruit: apples and strawberries, pear and mango, and another full of cherries and all kinds of berries. You tasted something of each, quickly feeling full. Daddy was sitting behind you, sipping the tea he brought. Occasionally he'd feed you something, and you'd do the same, giggling happily when you watched the cherry slip between his lips. He'd kiss you after, sharing the taste.

You felt good, safe and protected, warm and happy. A strange feeling. In the quiet moments you wondered if it was real. Maybe you were still on that park bench, dreaming these things up. But then you'd feel Daddy's hands around your waist, rocking you gently against him as he nibbled on your neck, and you didn't care if it was real or not. It felt too nice to nitpick.

When the first yawn broke on your face, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed, wrapped the blanket around you like a cocoon and sat on the edge beside you, rubbing his large hand over your hip. You looked up at him, smiling tiredly, wanting to ask him to join you, but the words wouldn't come. And the bed was really small also...

He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, lingering there a little as he watched you. “Sleep now, pumpkin,” he whispered, his breath ghosting your lips.

“What about you, Daddy?” you managed to croak out.

“I'll clean up our mess and will take the other bed, don't worry about me,” he replied, leaning back slowly.

“Let me help,” you mumbled, trying to get your arms out of the tightly wrapped blanket.

“No, it's fine,” he said, pushing you back down, his hand heavy on your shoulder. “It was a long day, you need your sleep, baby girl.”

You huffed a sigh, snuggling into the blanket, blinking up at him. “M'kay,” you pressed out under your breath, your lips pursing into a pout.

He gave a short chuckle and pressed his mouth to yours. “No pouting, pumpkin, go to sleep. Another long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

You inhaled deeply, stretching your neck to keep close to him, but he leaned back, causing you to slump down again. “What's tomorrow, Daddy?” you whispered, already fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Mommy has something planned for you, I don't want to spoil the surprise,” he said, his voice quieter as he stood up, his hand leaving your arm.

You gave an unintelligible noise before you sighed, your eyelids fluttering closed. “Okay...” you breathed.

“Good night, sweet girl,” you heard his voice from a little away.

“Good night, Daddy,” you mumbled back, inhaling deeply before sleep gripped you fully.

You woke up with a voiceless shriek, your eyes flying open, but there was nothing but darkness around you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a cold breeze washing over your sweat-slick face. A whimper escaped you as you lay stock-still on the hard bed, the blanket wrapped around you in a suffocating manner. You couldn't remember what woke you, if it was a nightmare or dream or just the noises of the forest. Oh. Forest. Right.

The hoot of an owl brought you back to the little cabin in the woods, and as your heart slowed a little, you could hear the deep breaths, almost snores, from the other bed. Without thinking about it much, you scrambled out of yours and stumbled through the dark towards the comforting noises, ignoring the cold shudder crashing down your spine as you left the safety of your cot. The blanket was still around your shoulders, dragging after you, and when you extended a hand to feel where you were, your fingers brushed against something warm.

“Daddy?” you whispered barely audible, voice heavy with sleep, a hint of growing panic vibrating through you. The impenetrable dark around you was beginning to feel suffocating. He didn't stir, just kept breathing deeply. “Daddy...” Your hand was on his shoulder, moving up, blindly feeling around until your fingertips nudged against his beard, the scratching sound sending pleasant shivers over your skin, dispersing the cold that had settled there.

Biting your lip, your heart beating faster, you decided to climb into his bed. There was no space, he was already filling out the small frame, so you clambered on top of him, carefully putting your knees on either side of his hips (having to spread your legs quite far to fit him between your thighs) before you lay down slowly, resting your weight on his torso, one arm cradling his head, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

A garbled snore escaped him, before his hand shot up, feeling around until it curled around your side. “Pumpkin?” he rasped, his voice so low it was a mere vibration through your body as you pressed your chest to his, trying to relax on top of him. “What's wrong?”

“Couldn't sleep,” you mumbled into him, your hand teasing his neck, producing more scratching noises as you rubbed your fingers into his beard.

He exhaled loudly, making your hair fly. His arms closed around your body as he shifted beneath you. “S'okay,” he muttered hoarsely, pulling you against him.

For a moment you just lay there, your eyes falling closed again, the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lulling you to sleep once more. Then his hands moved, rubbing from your shoulders down to your rear, and when his long fingers curled around your ass, you gave a little squeak, suddenly wide awake.

You leaned back on your elbows, looking down at him, trying to, but the room was too dark to see anything but more shadows. Your hands cupped his cheeks, the feel of his beard a calming thing under your palms. He kept kneading your rear, somehow the blanket had slipped off, adding a cold breeze to the shivers that traveled down your spine.

He breathed loudly against you. “You have no idea how hard it is to resist you, baby,” he growled, his voice just a rumble in the air, a thrum against your chest. “If you do things like this... all I want to do is grab you, turn you around, spread you open and sink my cock into your tiny cunt.” His low words, so lewd and tempting, but frightening too, made you gasp softly.

His hands tightened around your ass cheeks, pulling them apart, kneading, fingers slipping along the hem of your shorts. You were breathing harder, feeling a tense heat growing inside you, low in your core, a little throb, a clench, and then you were grinding your pelvis into him, against the bulk of him, hard and warm.

He gave a low grunt, pushing you against him, hands heavy and scorching, even through your clothes. “I can't do this, pumpkin,” he muttered. “Not yet. As much as I want to, as much as I need to... ugh,” he groaned, bucking his hips up against yours. “Little temptress,” he breathed, one of his hands moving up to grab the back of your head, pulling you down until your lips collided with his, his tongue quickly forcing into your mouth, a desperate gliding and rubbing and tasting.

He kept talking between kisses, his fingers tight around your nape, the other still groping your ass. “Soon...” he growled, kissing you harder with each word slipping past his warm lips. “Soon I'll fill you up, fill you up so good, all mine, you're mine, baby, mine to fill up, mine to open and use, your cunt will be molded to my cock and mine alone...”

You felt hot all over, his kisses and touches and words melting into a strange sensation floating through your body. You squirmed on top of him, grinding into him, your thighs trembling with how far they were spread over the bulk of his legs. Your fingers dug into his hair, holding on, kissing him back just as hungrily, your motions guided by pure instinct, by need, by unbridled lust. Nothing you'd ever felt before.

Your panting breaths mingled with his groans, the rubbing and grinding getting faster, more intense, his hand bruising your soft flesh. You wished there weren't so many layers of clothes in the way, it all felt too much, too warm, your clit throbbing under the constant friction of your underwear and shorts pressing into it. The hand on your neck was heavy, pressing you down, keeping you glued to his mouth, his tongue licking into yours as if he wanted to eat you alive (a thought that made your head spin). You tried your best to mirror the motion.

The tension in your stomach grew and grew, coiling so tight you were afraid it would break you from within. That heat gathering in your core, in your cunt, felt like liquid fire, burning through your nerves, setting everything aflame. Whimpers left your throat, your hands gripping his hair tighter, your hips rutting into him with desperate need now. His hands moved, gripped your waist, started pushing and pulling you over the bulge in his pants, a consistent pressure, burning friction, a deep shudder.

And then the lights came as you gasped into his mouth, a stifled little “Daddy!”, a swarm of fireflies dancing at the edge of your vision, your breath hitching in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You felt your orgasm crashing through you like a wave, the first rough impact made you stiffen, then turned into a gentle lapping as it glided through you, spreading from your core into your trembling limbs, until your toes curled and your fingertips tingled.

He held you as you shivered, erratic breaths fanning over his face, his own body hard beneath you. Still shaking, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, his hands rubbing over your back, gently smoothing down your jittery nerves. Your core was pulsing, throbbing, blood pumping just beneath your skin. A low thrum that slowly eased into a little buzzing, fizzling out like a sigh in the wind. A sticky warmth settling in your underwear.

“My good girl,” he cooed softly, his lips brushing against your ear, voice low and soothing. “You're alright, baby.”

You relaxed on top of him, practically melting into the hard shape of his body, a little boneless thing held by strong arms. Head empty, filled with cotton, no thoughts, except for a tiny nudge of something, of wanting to give back, of wondering how he felt, but you were too tired to voice it. He didn't seem to mind either way, only shifted slightly beneath you before you slipped into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

This time you woke up to a rumble below you, a little bump that made you shift against a warm body. Grumbling under your breath, eyes too heavy to open, you snuggled into the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your legs were angled, knees pressed into your chest, your head slightly lifted, resting on something warm and solid.

A hand rubbed along your arm, a soothing noise coming to your ears. “Go back to sleep, pumpkin,” you heard Daddy's quiet voice, but the low thrum of it surged through your body, giving you the energy you needed to open your eyes.

Squinting into the light, you found yourself curled up on the bench seat beside him, your cheek resting on his thigh, his hand on your arm. The truck rumbled beneath you, a constant drone that almost lulled you back to sleep, but you forced yourself to wake up fully. Slowly you turned onto your back, legs stretched out as far as possible (they remained angled at the knees, sock-clad feet pressing into the passenger door), before you looked up to the upside-down view of the tall man behind the steering wheel.

He gave you a gentle smile and a short gaze, then focused back on the road. “Good morning, Daddy,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“Morning, pumpkin, did you sleep well?”

“Like a stone, apparently,” you whispered, looking around. “Did you... did you carry me all the way back to the truck? You could have woken me, I could have walked...”

“You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb your beauty sleep, baby,” he said with a slight smirk, his fingers digging into the blanket, teasing at your armpit. You scrunched your nose, squirming against the touch, feeling your lips twitch.

“Did you get some sleep too?” you asked carefully when he pulled his hand back, brushing it over your forehead before gripping the steering wheel. Last night came into your head, hazy and fuzzy, a buzz in the back of your head and deep in your core. Heat crashed into your face. “I... I didn't mean to –”

“It's okay, sweetheart. I slept really good, you make for a great weighted blanket, so soft and cute how you snored right into my ear,” he teased, his hand back to caress your hair. You turned your head and pressed your hands to your face, hiding the blooming warmth on your cheeks. He laughed softly. “Don't be ashamed. And don't stress about sneaking into my bed. You are welcome to do so, it makes me so happy to know that you're comfortable enough with me to do that.”

You spread your fingers and peeked through them as he talked, his words burning the doubts away again. His fingers brushed over your hair (you noticed he'd loosened the braids and smoothed it out again). He seemed to have had a whole morning while you were unconscious. You wished you could remember how he carried you, probably on his arms, through the waking forest, tugged you into his car, positioned your head on his thigh...

You turned onto your side again, shuffling closer until your chin rested on his leg, your eyes directly in line with the bulk of his cock behind the thick denim of his jeans. His hand moved over your forehead, tucking a few stray strands back, before his fingers dug into your hair, grabbing a bunch of it as he tugged lightly.

Your eyes moved up as you watched him from under your lashes, your cheeks still warm, your hands resting on the side of his thigh to steady yourself. “Are you okay, Daddy?” you whispered, watching his face, the creases in the corners of his eyes deepening as he smiled down at you.

“I'm fine, baby. Why do you ask?”

You licked your lips, that little urge in your stomach crawling up until it sat heavy in your throat, making your mouth both dry and saliva to pool on your tongue. You looked back at the bulge in front of you, your fingertips itching to touch it, feel how hard it really was. Wanting to give back.

“I just... uh... did you... did you come... last night? When I...” you stammered, swallowing thickly.

“It's fine, pumpkin,” he said, easing your stuttering. “Don't worry about me.”

“But –”

“No,” he shot down your attempt to voice the growing need. To feel, to taste... You blinked up at him, frowning slightly. “Sorry, baby girl, we don't have time. Mommy is already very angry with Daddy.”

“Oh,” you mouthed, biting your bottom lip as you sank back into the seat, away from his crotch. Exhaling loudly, you curled up against his side, pulling the blanket back over your body. “I'm sorry...”

“Don't be, it's my fault,” he said quietly, his hand back on your shoulder, warm and heavy, a comforting touch. “I should have planned this better. But it'll be fine. We'll be back in town in a bit, and then Mommy can have her day with you. Try to relax now, I don't know what she's up to after your appointment, but expect a lot more walking and shopping and whatever else girls do, hm?”

You frowned, feeling something cold and heavy in your stomach. Slowly you turned your head to look up at him. “What appointment, Daddy?”

“She's taking you to the doctor, baby girl,” he replied nonchalantly, while you stiffened. “Don't worry about that, just a check-up, some precautions and all that jazz. You were not on birth control, right, pumpkin?”

You looked away, swallowing. “No,” you mouthed, curling more into the blanket, not really wanting to face the reality of things. You hated going to the doctor's office, but in the back of your mind you knew it was important, a necessary step to assure your new life with these generous people. You still felt weird about it, and the implications of it all made you a little nervous.

His hand rubbed over your arm. “You'll get an implant, darling, Mommy's got one too, it's the best way, won't hurt much either. No need to be afraid. And once that's settled,” he added quietly, his hand slipping down your front, giving your chest a gentle squeeze, “well, I can't wait to get real close to you...”

The innuendo wasn't lost on you (your cunt giving a little clench), but you focused more on his other words. It felt as if you didn't have much of a choice in the matter, they had already planned out your life, and while it was comforting on one side, it made you feel a little useless and trapped on the other.

Then again, you did sort of trust them, Mommy and Daddy, somehow you knew they only wanted the best for you, and if that one little inconvenience (that felt like a big stone in your guts though) would ensure that you could stay with them, hug them, kiss them, feel Mommy's fingers and Daddy's cock, then it had to be done.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you exhaled loudly, grabbing Daddy's hand and cradling it to your chest. “Okay,” you muttered, snuggling into his side.

“It'll be fine, baby,” he said, squeezing your hands. “Mommy will be with you, she'll take care of you today.”

“What will you do?” you asked after a moment of rumbling silence, the tires droning over the road beneath you.

“I have to go to work, pumpkin,” he replied with a sigh. “But I'll be back tonight. We'll have dinner together and watch another movie, okay?”

“Okay,” you said again, closing your eyes as you let the noises of the car and his warmth lull you back to sleep.

“You're late.”

“You already said that...”

“Seriously, you gotta work on your time management. And maybe next time you could have the decency of telling me if you plan to spend the night somewhere else? I was worried sick!”

“I didn't think you'd care.”

“Of course I care! What is that supposed to mean? She is mine too, you know? Our little girl, Noah! Our! We take care of her, we, both of us! Get that into your thick skull!”

The voices were muffled, slipping in and out as you slowly regained consciousness. Inhaling deeply, you rolled onto your back, blinking your eyes open. You were in your bed, in your room, alone, a sudden cold crashing over you.

Listening to Mommy and Daddy's heated voices reminded you of your childhood, spent under the covers with your hands on your ears, trying to drown it all out. The constant fights, the screams and shouts, everything ultimately leading to your father leaving and your mother bringing in new men every now and then, before it all happened again, and again...

Your door opened, making you flinch and gasp. Mommy came in, confident steps before she slumped down on the edge of the bed, her hands grabbing yours. “Hello sweet pea, are you alright?” she whispered, cradling your hand, giving you a soft smile. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“I'm fine,” you replied, sitting up slowly, watching her. “Please don't be mad at Daddy,” you then said, furrowing your brows as you looked into her pretty face.

“I... Did you hear us? Oh baby girl, I am so sorry,” she cooed, scooting closer before she pulled you against her chest, her arms tight around your shoulders. “I was just worried. This is all new to us, too, you know? Daddy has to understand that he can't just whisk you away without telling me.”

You leaned against her, breathing deep, her soft scent, warm and somewhat flowery, filling your nostrils, calming you. “It's my fault,” you mouthed into the soft slopes of her breasts, the low neckline of her dress allowing for your cheek to press directly to her skin. “I... I distracted Daddy...”

Mommy laughed softly. “I bet you did, but that's not your fault. It's his for not being able to control himself.”

“I don't want you to fight...”

“Oh honey, don't worry your pretty little head. We do that sometimes, but it's nothing bad. It's natural and necessary to talk about things, even if we don't always see eye to eye. I still love and respect your Daddy, but he does need a little kick from time to time, you know? And I'd do it more, but he's kind of into it...” she added with a chuckle.

You still felt a little bad for disrupting their plans and making them argue, but the longer you snuggled against Mommy's warm body, the quieter those doubts got. At least until she suddenly grabbed your arms and leaned you back, looking at you.

“Alright, so, I did plan for our day to be a little less stressful, but it is what it is now. We gotta get you ready and then we have to go.” She stood then, grabbing your hand to pull you up.

It was a blur how she nudged you into the bathroom and made you brush your teeth. While you did, she untangled your hair and braided it into a thick side braid that she fastened with a little pink bow. You blinked, and suddenly you stood in front of your closet, your reflection showing you that you had stripped (or were stripped?), before Mommy pulled a pink sundress over your head. She crouched beside you and helped you into a pair of white lace panties, then pulled frilly ankle socks onto your feet and made you step into a pair of pink ballerina flats.

She was gentle, though anything but calm, time (or lack thereof) probably making her a little hectic. You didn't protest, just let her do her thing, feeling more and more like a little lifeless doll. Somehow that was a comfort, not having to think what to wear, what to do, but it also unnerved you a little. When you were dressed, she turned you around and smiled, then grabbed your flushed face and brought her mouth to yours.

Her kiss was sweet, tasted like the glossy stuff on her lips (peach maybe?), her tongue giving yours a gentle massage you tried to meet in equal. It was only a short delight, before she grabbed your hand and pulled you after her. Down the stairs, a fleeting look through the house, realizing Daddy was already gone, then through the front door and onto the yard, a car waited there and she motioned you onto the backseat before slipping in beside you.

A few more hectic heartbeats later, the car stopped again and she helped you out. You were shaking then, noticing the sign on the building. She held your hand and you just followed, trying to breathe easy, telling yourself it'd be alright. At first you felt invisible next to her, a mere child pulled along by a parent, when she talked to the lady at the reception, when she did small talk with other people waiting there as well, but then it was your name echoing through the room, your name being called, and you slipped back into the focus with a clenching feeling in your guts.

But Mommy stayed with you, led you into another room, told you to sit down on one of those reclined chairs. The air was tight, it smelled so sterile and clean, and you hated it. She must have noticed your erratic breathing, how clammy your hand was, and she stepped to your chair and cupped your face, rubbing your cheeks, smiling down at you softly.

“It'll be alright, cariño,” she cooed. “Be a good girl, okay? No need to be afraid. It's just a check-up, some questions, a few tests, and then a tiny poke into your arm. But you're a big girl, you can handle this, can't you?”

You wanted to sink into the floor, vanish from her warm gaze. You didn't feel like a big girl, you felt helpless and small and pathetic, and you were ashamed that at your age you were still afraid of doctors and needles and examinations. You felt horrible, your stomach so tense it hurt, your throat tight, mouth dry, lips wobbling uncontrollably, tears burning in your eyes. And one thought came back over and over again.

I want my Daddy.

It was silly, he couldn't help you through this any better than Mommy did, but maybe he could have talked you out of your fear, held you tighter, his low voice thrumming through you, calming you. Mommy did her best, but she was not Daddy, wasn't as tall and broad, as strong, there was no soothing scratch of a beard or the steady heartbeat in a warm chest, coarse hair tickling against your cheek.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, thinking back to your time with him, thinking ahead to later, after, when you'd see him again. You realized then that it wasn't fair. Mommy was here now, holding your face, trying to calm you. And you remembered her words (“our girl... we take care of her, both of us...”), knowing she was right. You agreed to live with both of them, Mommy and Daddy, and you shouldn't choose one over the other. They both let you into their lives, made you a part of their routines, they both took time out of their busy schedules to be with you, help you, make it better.

And being here, getting a check-up, was a step into that better future, you knew it, you didn't like it, but you accepted it.

Exhaling loudly, you nodded into Mommy's hands. Opening your eyes, you attempted a weak smile, and hers widened before she leaned in to give you a quick kiss. She stepped away when the doctor entered the room, but kept a hold of your hand. You barely remembered his questions or your answers or what Mommy said to fill in the blanks. You couldn't concentrate on the explanations of whatever procedure you were supposed to be getting either. Your mind was reeling, in a bad way, but you forced yourself to stay strong, to not cry, and it took all of you not to flinch or wince when you felt cold gloved fingers between your legs.

You tried to shut it all out, go back in your mind to the better moments, Mommy's kisses, Daddy's touches, her soft laugh, his low voice praising you, pumpkin, baby girl, words like caresses, Mommy's fingers in your cunt (a different set of fingers parting your labia), the rise and roll of your orgasm as you dry humped Daddy this morning, how your clit had throbbed against your panties (how it was prodded at now, the hood lifted, a clinical gesture), your insides feeling as if frozen in place, forced to remain neutral (this isn't sexual, not sexual, a normal thing, an examination, nothing more).

Your head was spinning, your hand tensing around Mommy's, your eyes glued to the ceiling, not acknowledging what was happening below. Didn't matter, it'd be over soon, very soon (soon... he'd said... soon he'll fill you up... your cunt that belongs to him... for Daddy's cock to mold into his shape... soon).

And then it was over. You blinked in confusion when a nurse wiped something over your upper arm, then put a band-aid on a spot on your skin that felt tense and as if on fire, a warm feeling soothing through you.

Mommy was on your other side, rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand, smiling softly. Her other hand reached out and wiped under your eye. “My good girl,” she whispered. “You've been so brave. Barely cried. I'm proud of you.”

At first her words stoked your embarrassment, flared up the unease that had settled low in your guts (you already felt like a stupid child, she didn't have to talk to you like you were one too), but the longer she looked at you with her warm eyes, the calmer you felt. You blinked, licking your dry lips, taking a shuddering breath, focusing back on her. Maybe you were a child (no matter your age), but you were also hers, her little girl, she was taking care of you, and that was all that mattered.

Later you sat opposite her in a cute little restaurant tucked into a charming side street, soft piano music was playing in the background, the lights were dim and cozy, paintings of old architecture lined the walls, chatter was hushed. The waiter brought bread sticks and a menu you couldn't read, so you had Mommy choose something for you.

It felt nice, almost like a date. The wine arrived, and you were allowed one glass too, and when she raised hers, you grabbed yours and gently clinked it, smiling at her. “To new beginnings,” she said quietly before bringing the glass to her full lips and taking a sip, watching you over the rim.

You gave her a shy nod, taking a sip yourself, feeling the rich flavor glide over your tongue and down your throat, a fruity taste ending with a buzz. You liked it.

“Don't tell Daddy,” she mused with a chuckle. “He was quite impressed that you said you didn't drink, a kid your age no less. Now, I don't want to be the one to seduce you after all, but this is a special occasion, wouldn't you say?” She took another sip. “By the way, is there a reason you don't drink? Usually?”

You put the glass down, looking at it for a moment. “Well, I... I saw what too much alcohol could do to a person...” you replied quietly, unable to look into her eyes.

Her hand reached out to you, her fingers curling gently around yours. “Oh honey, I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, looking around the room. “No, it's fine. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Hmm,” Mommy hummed, squeezing your hand. “If you change your mind, I'm here for you, always, okay?”

You looked up at her, meeting her warm gaze. “Thank you,” you whispered.

The food came then, pasta you couldn't pronounce, but liked all the same, nothing you'd ever eaten before. Mommy tried holding the conversation with simple topics like food or travel or exotic countries you might like to see one day. The more she talked, the smaller and poorer you felt. You had your dreams of seeing the world one day, but deep down you knew you would never be able to afford it. She, however, seemed to have seen it all already.

Though you felt a little jealous at first, you soon realized that this kind of lifestyle was open to you now. And while you imagined traveling the world with Mommy and Daddy, you opened up more and more, the fears and doubts of earlier falling off you bit by bit. By the time you'd finished your dessert (the most delicious tiramisu you'd ever seen and eaten), you were fantasizing about sitting in a gondola with Mommy, her arm around your shoulders, listening to some Italian dude singing as he steered you over the Canal Grande.

Mommy either kept holding your hand or bumping her knee into yours under the table, her other hand rubbing up your leg occasionally. It felt nice, she was so attentive when you did manage to say a few more sentences, smiling softly, her dark eyes wandering over your face. In a way it really felt like a date.

After a while, she was sipping on her third glass of wine, you gathered the courage to speak up again. “Can I ask you something?”

She tilted her head. “Of course.”

“I... uh, I told Da– uh, well, I'm... I'm not too comfortable... yet... to call you and him... uh, the names I'm supposed to call you... you know? In public? So I asked him for his name, and he said I could call him that when we were around people, and I was wondering... if –”

“Isabella,” she said with a smirk and her beautiful accent. “And yes, you can call me that in public. But when we're alone, I'd prefer... the other name,” she added, winking at you.

“Of course, Mo– Isabella,” you replied with a timid smile. She squeezed your knee under the table. “That's a really pretty name...”

“Thank you,” she laughed. “I think your Daddy, Noah, may see that differently. He only uses it when I screwed up somehow.”

“Oh,” you mouthed, blinking at her.

“But don't mind that, we do have a special relationship as you may have gathered by now. I do like it when he calls me by my name, with that deep voice of his. It really turns me on...”

Her confession made you blush, and you looked away, inhaling deeply. “M-me too, his... his voice, I mean,” you then mumbled, earning you another laugh and squeeze of the leg.

“Yeah? Well, I'm glad we share the same taste in men then,” Mommy said with a smirk in her voice. “Honestly, cariño, no need to be embarrassed about it. This is an open relationship, a love triangle if you will. We are sharing him, as well as he is sharing me, and I am sharing you, and however else you want to see it. And there's nothing weird about it. You are our little girl, you chose to be with us and we welcomed you into our midst. Say, after these few days, how do you feel about it? Do you still want to be our girl?” she asked, nudging your knee to make you look at her.

You nodded as soon as you met her gaze, almost a little too desperate for your taste, but it was true. You couldn't imagine being anywhere else at the moment. “I do,” you said quietly. “I really like it, being with you and Da– Noah, you've been both so kind to me, so patient and welcoming. I... I've never felt this safe before...”

Her features softened as she watched you, her dark eyes so warm and caring. Your own started watering the longer you watched her, recounting your experiences.

“I am really grateful,” you choked out, your eyelashes fluttering as you fought the tears trying to spill from them. “Really, thank you... so much, I... I have no idea how I will ever repay you for your generosity...”

She gave a soft chuckle, leaning over the table to grab your hand and cradle it between hers. “Oh sweetie, do not worry your pretty head about that. You will, very soon. You already made me so happy, and Daddy too, and I'm sure you will be just as perfect in the future. I honestly can't wait...”

She didn't say it, barely grazed the topic, but you felt it in your core, the implication. Daddy hadn't been as subtle about it, and you knew what was expected of you once you settled in more. Somehow the idea both scared and aroused you, and you wondered whether you could live up to those expectations in the first place. The last thing you wanted was to disappoint them, Mommy especially.

Apparently your worries were plastered all over your face, because suddenly she was there, had rounded the table, and crouched down beside you, cupping your face, resting her forehead against yours.

“It'll be fine, mi amor, do not stress,” she whispered. “All you have to do is submit to us, we will guide you through it all. You just let it happen. Do you want to let it happen? Do you trust us?”

You swallowed, biting your lip. “Yes,” you breathed. “I do, both, I trust you, I want this...”

“Good girl,” she cooed.

Her eyes bored into yours and the restaurant around you faded. All you saw was her, and when she tilted her head and brushed her lips against yours, she was all you felt. Warm, soft, the subtle taste of peach flavored lip gloss and red wine, and you soaked it up like a sponge, meeting the delicate swipes of her tongue, tasting her, feeling her...

She was gone before you could really register it, sitting back on her chair, licking her lips as she smiled at you. Your cheeks were aflame, but you didn't care who saw them. You were focused on Mommy, the beautiful woman who could honestly convince you to do anything with just a kiss.

What a dangerous gift.

Chapter 6 🔷️ Chapter 7 🔷️ Chapter 8

End notes: You may argue that some of the things that Mommy and Daddy do to pumpkin are dubcon, as they just “force” them onto her without asking first. Yes, maybe that's the case, but remember this is fiction and Pumpkin is too mentally unstable to decide on her own at the moment. It's for her own good, they really only want the best for her! There is no bad intent, even if it feels like dubcon.

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: Mommy takes you to a special shop...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

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niwaart · 8 hours ago

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Bruce wanted a solution to his family's problems, he always wondered how other families were happy and even if their family was big their problems weren't many, but looking at his children, problems happen every day if not every hour, for example Damian and Tim are trying to prove their worth by killing each other... not literally but close to it... and also Jason who refuses to go home even after things between them became good and better than before, but he is still stubborn to the core, he refuses to leave the weapons even after several lectures from Bruce and Alfred, the biggest problem is that he refuses to return to the pack or even smell him! This hurts Bruce's feelings... a little. As for Dick... he is fine and not fine, he tries to help everyone and forget his problems, he can't even settle in a relationship without ruining it. As for Cass, she has a problem getting to know new people, or even communicating with others, this doesn't make Bruce happy, he wants his daughter to go out with friends, and enjoy life, it's good that Stephanie is helping her and this really makes Bruce happy, but he still wants his daughter to be able to make her own decisions and think about her future. As for Duke, he was shy, there was nothing wrong with him, he was perfectly fine, he just needed some confidence and enthusiasm, his breakup with his girlfriend had made him sad so Bruce wanted to give him new confidence and determination, but he didn't know how. Bruce didn't want to burden Alfred any more, he was getting old, he couldn't keep up with all the family's problems, so Bruce had to find a solution, a quick and good solution for the long term, and luckily for him he finally found the answer, his flock needed an omega! There had never been an omega in his Pack before, he used to hear at his parties that all the families had an omega to take care of their Pack, so Bruce decided to look for the perfect omega for his family, and he found a perfect omega..

"I wonder why Bruce gathered us here and not in the cave, Bruce only gathers us when it's dangerous.." Dick said as he sat between Damian and Tim so they wouldn't fight.

"It better not be something silly." Jason said, examining the furniture in the room.

"Maybe Father decided to kick Tim out of the family." Damian said thinking about how to stab Tim after Tim fed Titus extra food…

"Or maybe he wants to punish Damian by not being Robin." Tim said as he still remembered his room filled with fish and water.

Dick sighed in disgust at Damian and Tim's actions while Stephanie and Duke laughed. "Maybe he wants to bring us a surprise, maybe gifts? What do you think Cass?" Stephanie said cheerfully as she looked at Cassandra who shrugged her shoulders not caring as long as it wasn't anything serious.

"Oh he's here!" Duke said as he looked at the opening door.

Everyone turned to the door immediately expecting Bruce, and yes it was Bruce but there was someone else with him, a short and still young person.

Everyone looked curiously at the stranger. "Well old man, why did you gather us?" Jason said impatiently.

Bruce smiled at his children, "I'm glad to see everyone is here today. I want to introduce you to the Omega of the Pack."

Everyone looked at Bruce in shock, including Dick who was about to faint from what he heard, Jason who was about to suffocate, Stephanie who didn't believe Bruce's words, Tim who was analyzing Bruce's features to know if this was a joke or not, Damian who was a little confused, why would his father bring an omega to the house? Aren't they weak? And Duke who had an expression of shock like Stephanie. And Cass who was strangely calm..

Dick tried to speak without stuttering, "Bruce... what are you saying now?"

"What's wrong with what I said? I told you I brought Omega for the pack. Is there a problem?" Bruce looked suspiciously at his sons, he didn't expect their reaction to be like this.

Everyone was looking at Y/N who was standing silently next to Bruce. "Don’t you have anything to say?" Jason said angrily, he wasted his precious time for Omega!

Y/N looked at everyone and then said, "He kidnapped me."

Everyone except Bruce and Cass "What?!?!"

Everyone turns to Bruce who smiles innocently.

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merryshobbithole · 2 days ago

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What do your f/o's hugs feel like?

Breath taking. Literally. Sentomaru is the kind of guy to give big bear hugs when he's feeling playful, but for the most part they are very soft and warm. He's a pretty big guy, so even when he's being gentle I can feel that pleasant pressure that makes me so safe and loved. He likes to rest his chin atop my head while we hug

What are your favorite dates to have with them?

I love movie nights. Sitting together on the couch with his arm around me and my head on his shoulder. I drift off more times than not, and he always carries me to bed and kisses my forehead before whispering "Goodnight, sweetheart". I know this because I may or may not have pretended to fall asleep on him. I think he's caught on to me, but he never brings it up

What are their favorite dates with you?

Definetely stargazing. Laying down on the grass and admiring the nightsky, listening to the sounds of nature. He likes to talk about constellations and the stories behind them, and I like to listen

What's the height difference between you and f/o?

He's 279cm (9'1ft) and I'm 150cm (4'11ft)

On a scale from 1 to 10, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you?

I'd say 4, maybe 5. He's not very big on PDA but he does show affection in public in his own, subtle ways: squeezing my shoulder to get my attention, placing a hand on my thigh (or even holding my hand under the table) when I'm feeling uneasy in social settings, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, stealing glances at me...

What's your favorite feature about your f/o?

Oooh, that's a difficult oneee but if I had to choose, I'd say his hands!

What do you think they smell like?

Honestly? I have never thought about that. I'll think of something and update this...

What is your f/o's biggest love language?

I'd say acts of service and gift giving. He's not very good at expressing his emotions, so he shows he cares by seeking me out when he's got the time, sometimes bringing with him a little something. It's not anything fancy, maybe he saw something I liked or needed and got it for me, and many times he shares his food with me

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them?

We do sometimes, mostly in his and when I come over to see him. Sleeping with him in winter is the best since his body temperature is naturally very warm and he loves being the big spoon, but during summer it's best if we either sleep on opposites sides of the bed or apart. We still get back together to wish each other good morning, though (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o?

He participates in Sumo matches in his spare time (and I stand first row to cheer him on) 🗣️

What's the dynamic that you and your f/o have?

Those two awkward idiots who are into each other and everyone is able to see it but them because they're too shy and insecure. Also the short-tempered "Ew, people" introvert (him) and the people pleasing "Oh, no. People..." introvert (me)

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a bad day?

He's a great listener and the kind of person to provide solutions right off the bat, but he knows judging by my expression while he talks when I need comfort instead of logical approaches to the problem

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like?

I! Love!! Holding!!! Hands!!!!

As a matter of fact, it's the one (obvious) PDA we're comfortable with. We're not the kind of couple to do kissing in public. Holding hands with him is nice, but again his body temperature makes his palms sweaty fast. Not like I mind <3

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where's their favorite place to kiss?

He loves those! Only in private, though. His favorite place is my nose. He says it's very round and cute... ( ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Vice versa, do YOU like giving THEM little kisses? If you, where's YOUR favorite place to kiss?

I ADORE giving him little kisses! Similarly to him, I feel most comfortable doing it in a more private setting. My favorite place to kiss is his cheek!

What's your favorite leisure activity to do with your f/o?

Training! I'm not a very sporty person, but I enjoy keeping him company while he's training even if I'm doing my own thing

What's your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What's your favorite nickname that they use for you, if they have one?

His compliments are more "practical", if that's the right word. He praises me when I push through or when I get something right. His way of complimenting my appearance is subtler, but it's my favorite, nonetheless. As for nicknames, he's not the kind of guy to use them, but he does call me "sweetheart" from time to time. Only in private, though

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What's your favorite nickname to call them?

I'm horrible at giving compliments. When he does something I find attractive or puts on something nice, I short-circuit and panic. Me personally I like to call him Sen. It's just the shortened version of his name, but I think it's cute!

I want everyone to have the chance to ramble about their romantic f/os, so I'm gonna make a reblog game where yall can answer the plethora of questions I'm gonna toss down. Any of the questions you want to answer, as little or as much as you'd like!! I'll read them all. PR.O.SHIP DNI!!! AT ALL! GET OUT-

SO!! SELFSHIPPERS! RIDDLE ME THIS:

What do your f/o's hugs feel like?

What are your favorite dates to have with them?

What are their favorite dates to have with you?

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you?

What's the height difference between you and your f/o?

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you?

What's your favorite feature about your f/o?

What do you think they smell like?

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love.

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them?

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o?

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have?

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day?

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like?

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc)

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them?

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o?

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they for you, if they have one?

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them?

Okay I can't wait to see some answers!! Feel free to reblog as many times with as many f/os as you want. ANYONE CAN PARTICIPATE! SEEING THIS POST IS AN INVITATION FOR YOU!!

People I'd like to see answer this off the top of my head (but don't have to!!): @moxanji-real @one-winged-dreams @lovesickvalentines @graveluvr @clawingatmy-enclosure @starshakez @jpeg-indulgence @everynya @tropgothships @selfshipping-tboy @amelielovesamaris @pixel-comfort @fl0ralsxgar

#sen 🪓

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asterafroditis · 2 days ago

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hi!! I really enjoyed your asexual!yuu ficlet with Octavinelle and I wanted to request the same thing but with Leona?

thanks in advance if you do write this, but please feel no pressure to do so! :D

𐔌 . ⋮ love over lust .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Leona Kingscholar x asexual gn! reader

𓏵 400 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Leona has never been one to chase after fleeting desires. If he wants something, he takes it, and if he doesn’t, he doesn’t waste his time. When you tell him you’re asexual, he barely reacts—just a slow blink and a lazy, “Yeah? And?” Like hell he’d care about something like that. If he’s chosen you, then that’s it. End of story.

But if you expect him to ask a bunch of questions or try to ‘understand’ it on a deeper level, you’ll be waiting a long time. Leona doesn’t need some grand explanation. He just takes you as you are. Still, his instincts are sharp, and if he ever senses that you’re feeling self-conscious or unsure about what you bring to the relationship, he doesn’t let it slide. He hates seeing you doubt yourself over something he never even saw as an issue.

“Tch. You think I’d waste my time with someone who wasn’t worth it? You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

Leona’s love is quiet but solid. He’s not the type to smother you with affection, but he’s there—a steady, reliable presence that makes it clear you never have to prove anything to him. He shows his feelings through actions rather than words: letting you nap against him, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you look cold, giving you the last piece of food off his plate without saying a word. He won’t change his personality for anyone, but if you pay attention, you’ll notice that you get a side of him no one else does.

When he pulls you into his arms, it’s never out of obligation. It’s because he wants to. When he rests his head in your lap, it’s not just because he’s tired—it’s because he trusts you enough to let his guard down. You don’t have to be anything more than yourself to deserve that.

If anyone ever dares to make you feel lesser for how you love, Leona will put them in their place before you even have the chance to react. He doesn’t tolerate anyone talking down to what’s his.

“People got too much to say about things that ain’t their damn business. You’re with me, herbivore. That’s enough.”

#۶ৎ qka daydreams!#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #twst leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x you #twst leona x reader #twst leona x you #twst leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona kingscholar x you #fluff #twisted wonderland headcanons

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rosenclaws · 1 day ago

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Heey! I think your requests are closed, but when you open them, do you think you could write about Logan (any variant) with a reader who has a bad relationship with food? I kinda need the comfort right now, I have to eat to survive, but I hardly ever want to eat, and when I do I feel guilty about it, specially if it's not something super healthy or low cal.

I think Logan would be a really good partner and show support, make sure his partner eats well or doesn't slip meals and even cooks for them :')

Hi! Absolutely I can, I understand what you're going through and I want to know that you're loved and you have my full support <3 I picked origins Logan for this, he just gives off the softest vibes and would be a completely supportive and sweet partner. It's a little short and I apologize but I hope it helps <33

warnings: eating disorder/bad relationship with food, please don't read if this would possibly trigger you

Logan could tell something was off from the moment he walked through the door. His stomach rumbled as he smelled whatever delicious meal you were making for dinner. As he entered the kitchen he saw you pulling a pan out of dinner. Lasagna, his favorite.

"Smells fucking amazing," He purrs as he wraps his hands around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He still smells like pine needle and dirt from work. Normally he doesn't get back till way past dinner time but today was an easy day. How lucky he gets to eat dinner with the love of his life huh?

"Logan! You scared me." You huff as you gently push his arms off your body.

"Go clean up dinners almost ready." He frowns as you shoo him away.

Lately things have just felt off. You smiled and laughed like you always do but there were little things that just didn't feel right. Especially around meal times.

"Okay sweetheart, I'll be right back." Logan can't help but wonder what could possibly be wrong.

Are you sick? Is something bothering you? If so why wouldn't you tell him? Worries start to invade his thoughts. What could be going on that you can't even go to him about it? After a quick shower and a change of clothes he heads back to the kitchen. Only to see one plate of food sitting on the counter.

"I made it with the sauce you like, not the off brand one." You say with a smile but Logan's worry remains. He sits at the counter and takes the plate.

"Where's yours?" He asks. Your face falls for just a second. Anyone else would have missed it but not Logan. Not when it comes to you.

"Not hungry." You try and play it off, pushing the plate closer but Logan grabs your wrist.

"Logan, I had a big lunch. I'll eat later." You try and tug out of Logan's grip but he remains firm. Never enough to hurt you but enough to keep you there. To keep you from running away.

"I don't believe you. In fact, I've barely seen you eat anything in the last couple months."

The memories come flooding back. He's seen you eat, but its never much and it's always healthy. Shame starts to creep into his bones as he realizes he's failed to put the pieces together. All this time.

"Please sweetheart, whatever is going on you can tell me." Tears start to well up in your eyes as Logan speaks.

You never meant for him to find out. You thought you could handle this on your own. You had been so careful and eat just enough so that he never caught on. But the truth is you're exhausted. Food is nothing more that a means to survive. Everyday you force yourself to eat just enough and no more. Its been exhausting. Especially if the food you eat is too many calories or just plain unhealthy.

Logan almost jumps across the counter the moment he sees the tears, fearing the worst. He abandons his dinner in favor of wrapping you in his arms on the couch. Cooing softly as you cry and explain everything to him. He doesn't say a word, he just listens. Rubbing your back and letting you soak his shirt with tears.

When you're done you prepare for the worst. What if Logan leaves? I mean it would certainly be easier for him to not have to deal with. All of this. But he doesn't. With gentle hands he cups your face and dries your tears.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles. Sorry that he didn't notice sooner and sorry you've been carrying this for so long.

"Are you mad?" You ask quietly.

"No, of course not." Logan presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Listen honey, this isn't healthy." He knows that you know that but its not as easy as just a flip of a switch to change habits that had been built for years.

"I'm going to be with you every step of the way alright?" He says, tilting your head up so you can look him in the eyes. He wants you to know that he truly means every word.

"Okay," Logan pulls you into a tight hug, whispering sweet words over and over. He wishes he could take all your pain away in an instant. He'd bear it for you without even asking, but he can't.

But he stays true to his promise. Logan is there when you need him, to remind you to eat and taking it upon himself to make meals for you and with you. Some days were harder than others but Logan carried the weight you couldn't.

Things still aren't easy, but with Logan by your side you think you might be able to do anything.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader

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harukyuu2 · 2 days ago

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Hellooo I really like your works especially the alnst ones!! ><, so can I request a Ivan, Luka, and Till x Anemic!s/o?? and could you make hcs and scenarios for each one? Tysmm! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

⋆·˚ ༘ *╰┈➤ ❝Dont fall if it isnt for me!!❞

♡ Ivan, Till, Luka x Anemic!Reader -> Gn Reader, fluff, headcanons + small scenario, the alien of Reader is implied to be abusive

↳ Till is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ Poor baby is always keeping an eye on you because he cant stand the thought of you fainting :(

♡ At first, he thought the reason you were so pale and cold all the time was that your guardian probably kept you caged up— he wasnt entirely wrong, that was true but it was also because you were anemic!

♡ Once he finds out? He acts calm, but in the inside he is 24/7 trying to take care of you, more if you two are still on ANAKT GARDEN

♡ He will ask you to keep your trainings easy and calm, would give you part of his food even if he recieves barely anything and would try to take naps with you if you ever felt tired (practically always)

♡ Anyways, Till isnt too sure how to help out with your anemia, but he'll be at your side! -> Literally would throw hands with the aliens for you if they are exploiting you while you feel dizzy

"Reader..."

Till called you while he watched you practice, he already told you to take it easy three times but yet you continued dancing and singing— you felt out of yourself by now but if you didnt learn this choreo, you didnt want to know what your guardian could do to you...

"N-not now Till, i have to learn this" - You say with a shaky breath trying to focus even if your gaze was blurry and your heart was starting to beat faster.

Till, letting out a frustrated sigh, finally stood up from where he was sitting. - "Stop being dense, I dont want you to—" - Before he could finish his lecture, you tripped, your vision going pitch black for a moment. He was quick to catch you, even as you practically fell into him

You two were on the floor for a moment, your head resting in Till's shoulder until his shaky hand decided to caress your hair finally— with a sigh, he tried to calm the red from his face while you leaved a small laugh, even if you felt tired he kept you close and that made you happy, deciding to finally hear his lecture.

"Youre so stupid...atleast rest like this a moment, alright? I'll protect you from your guardian if he acts like a dumbass...i promise."

↳ Ivan is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ This boy is always analyzing you, so that means the moment he knows you have anemia, is the moment he tried to find books about it

♡ He would try EVERYTHING to make your situation better. Bad diet? Yeah, you can have his, he always gets good food. Lack of sun? He would try to get you out and get some with the excuse of doing photoshoots or something!

♡ If you ever felt tired (most of the time better said) he is the first one to make you sit down and rest while talking nonstop the symptoms of anemia so you stay still

♡ He cuddles you a lot! If you feel embarassed of always being cold, no worries— i think he is just as cold as you are! So seek warm together <3

♡ Your personal reminder to take care of you, literally everyday he will try his best for you to feel better! And you better listen to him, because if you're overworking yourself instead of paying attention to him, he'll just drag you to rest.

"Okaay, so you eated good today! We can have a little break and then i can help you practice your vocals on that song—" - Ivan was interrupted by you standing abruptly, but he kept that smile that showed his fang always

"No, i should train now and uhh..." - You tried to end the sentence, but standing quickly got consequences for you, making the dizziness appear while your gaze stumbled

Ivan noticed and just leaved a small laugh, even if he heard your grumbles, he made you climb onto his back so you could rest while he walked

"C'monn, lets rest a little and then i'll help you practice, you have to hear me you know! Just...dont throw on me"

With that being said, Ivan dragged you against a tree, hoping the artificial sun of ANAKT GARDEN would help you while he hummed your song, talking about how pretty it would sound once you sang it.

↳ Luka is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ Poor baby is so head over heels for you that he thought for a moment that maybe giving his blood to you would help :( Like, when you two were childs, he hitted his mouth thinking that blood would help you

♡ Listen, he has tons of things to check his health state too. He would try to see if any of them could help you

♡ Even if you had clones, he isnt letting you go. So, with his little knowledge from books, he would start taking care of you even if its pretty harsh or indirect with his lectures ♡ Would try to share his food with you, fails successfully because his ass is a big eater. Still, he always tries to make sure you're eating well, and when you dont, he'll call you out on it. If its because the aliens dont give you enough? He'd let you bite him to calm the hunger

♡ He isnt the most healthy person either, so he understands you when youre tired or dizzy. He was always forced to continue training even when he feels like that, but for you he'd force you to take it easy "Lukaaa...c'mon we have to learn this or else were gonna fail the collab!" - You say crossing your arms while Luka gazed boredly at you Even if you felt a little dizzy by now, your guardian managed to get you a collab with Luka! An important event since he was known as the ruler of the stage. The bad thing for both of you? it counted with a choreo and you urged to learn it well to not be punished for a mistake during the collab, even if it meant overworking yourself.

Luka sighed, standing up and putting his hands on your shoulders - "Dont be stupid, i know you didnt have a big meal today and by the look of your eyes youre kinda dizzy, arent you? Im giving you the chance to rest, just take it." Seeing the small guilt and worry in your averted gaze made him feel something— you always make him feel something, dont you? He sighed again, rolling his eyes as he took your wrist, guiding you towards his messy room, filled with things for his health and papers all over the floor. With a swift move, he managed to lay you on his bed, and without hesitation, he joined you, hugging you close, his head resting on your shoulder without thinking too much about it "Stay here— you dont want to faint, do you? So use your head for a moment and cuddle with me..."

You sighed, letting him win the argument as always as you resigned to caress his hair. Maybe you can train later, now you have a new task in hand— that a sleepy Luka doesnt end up confusing you for something sweet and bitting you!

#alien stage #alnst x reader #alnst #alien stage x reader #Till alnst x reader #till alnst #till alien stage #ivan alnst x reader #ivan x reader #ivan alien stage #ivan alnst #till x reader #Luka x reader #Luka alnst x reader #luka alnst #alien stage luka

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 day ago

Text

A Curse [Chapter 6: Tarzana]

A/N: Where has the time gone??? We are officially halfway done with this series! Thank you so much for reading, besties. It has been an honor to curse you all 🥰🪄

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, T.J. Maxx, Chinese food, a phone call from Minnesota, illness, entertainment industry misogyny, Jace is clueless, Becca bakes bread.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

“What happened to your foot?” Baela asks from the kitchen. She’s doing yoga poses in the middle of the floor. Jace is noisily pawing around in the refrigerator. His iPhone is on the counter, and from it emits a horrible throbbing Charli XCX song that sounds like something they would use to torture prisoners at Guantanamo Bay.

“Yeah, I wanna dance to me, me, me, me, me,

When I go to the club, club, club, club, club…”

You are lying across the orange couch with your left ankle elevated on a stack of pillows and covered with an ice pack. You flip a page in one of those heavy coffee table books with lots of pictures from Barnes & Noble; Baela’s parents bought it when they were furnishing the apartment, and again you are reminded—the weight in your hands like solid gold—of how much they believe in her. The book is about the history of Los Angeles. “Becca pushed me.”

Jace gasps and looks up from the refrigerator. “Why would Baela do that?!”

“No, Jace, Becca,” you say. “My agent’s fiancée Becca. That’s who pushed me.”

“Oh,” he says, and resumes rummaging around in the refrigerator until he finds a cannister of Pillsbury biscuits. He cracks it open and begins plopping pucks of dough on a baking sheet.

“Did Becca find out?” Baela asks you as she does the Reverse Warrior pose. “About the…you know…”

You shrug, guilty, defeated. Your swollen ankle pulsates hotly. You are bone-tired and wholly uninspired, a foreign feeling that makes you wonder if the part of you you’ve always assumed was eternal could die after all. “I guess. I kind of tried to confess but she seemed to already have it figured out.”

Baela snaps upright and gawks at you. “Why would you confess?!”

“I thought you said what I did was wrong.”

“Well yeah, it was, but that doesn’t mean you tell his fiancée! You don’t know her! What if she’s crazy? What if she’s like that astronaut lady who put on a diaper so she could drive nine hundred miles to pepper spray her ex’s new girlfriend?!”

You frown morosely down at the book. “You’re right. It was stupid. I just felt bad.”

Jace slides his baking sheet of Pillsbury biscuits into the oven. On the kitchen counter, your sunflowers are beginning to wilt and shrivel in their vase. You have fed them and meticulously trimmed their stems at an angle as Google recommended, but still, they cannot last forever. Perhaps you’ll dry them and they will endure perpetually in some other form, trapped in a pressed flower frame, arranged into a wreath.

Now Baela is sympathetic. “Are you in a lot of pain? Your foot’s not broken or anything, right?”

“It’s my ankle. And according to Google, it’s probably just sprained.”

“Do you want me to take you to an urgent care place for an x-ray? Or get you a brace from the Rite Aid down the street?”

“I really don’t think I need an x-ray…and if my parents see the health insurance got billed, they’re going to freak out and call me asking why I’m burning through even more of their money. But a brace sounds awesome!”

“Okay,” Baela says, and gives you an encouraging smile. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. You’re going to slay the Marvel audition on Friday.”

“How’d you know about that?”

She points to the calendar. “You wrote it on there.” And sure enough, you did: red ink in a small black box labeled Friday, July 11th. That’s two days from now. Baela says to Jace: “Come on, we’re going to Rite Aid.”

He is distraught. “But I have to watch my biscuits!”

She groans. “How long do they need to bake?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“We’ll walk fast,” Baela says, and drags him out the door. Blessedly, Jace takes his iPhone and its disturbing Charli XCX music with him, now playing a song that sounds like television static.

As you lounge dispiritedly on the velvet orange couch, you return your attention to the book about the history of Los Angeles. A hundred years ago, Elysian Park was an oil field, lattice-like wooden rigs peppering the hills that now host Dodger Stadium, narrow sloping streets of working-class homes, Aegon’s unpretentious half-duplex, and you wish you weren’t thinking about him but regrettably you usually are these days.

You grab your phone and open Instagram. You are startled to see Becca’s profile picture in the row of stories at the top of the screen. She must have accepted the follow request you sent her weeks ago.

Why the hell would she do that now?

Surely, there are no benign reasons. After a moment’s hesitation you can no longer resist and click on Becca’s story to view it. It’s a photo of her giving Aegon a kiss on the cheek; they’re both laughing, his nose is scrunched up, it’s honestly pretty adorable. You tap the X in the corner of the screen to escape the image as quickly as possible, and yet it remains: red neon glowing on the backs of your eyelids, flames of arson in your throat.

You go to Becca’s profile. A quick browse of her stories and posts reveals homemade baked goods, scenic outings in nature, faux-candid selfies, and lots of home decorating. She has a blog that is linked in her bio—rebeccawilsonwrites.wordpress.com—like she’s freaking Gwyneth Paltrow recommending jade yoni eggs on Goop. She also has three Pekingese dogs, woefully inbred wobbling wheezing creatures, and you are reminded of your mother’s colony of Akitas.

Becca’s most recent culinary masterpiece is apple cinnamon bread. The loaves look flawless, golden brown and scrupulously sliced. Her caption reads: Made with delicious Honeycrisp apples, picked fresh at a local orchard! @superstargaryen loved them! Then there is a series of emojis: apples, hearts, bread, more hearts.

You return to your main feed and scroll manically through the photos and video clips there, desperate for a distraction. You see a post featuring a quote from Robin Williams—I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy—and a foggy memory is evoked like the rippling distortion of heat refraction rising up off a freeway.

You think: Didn’t Robin Williams die by suicide because he had a terrible disease?

You go to Google, conduct some basic research, and confirm the details. Then you search: Viserys Targaryen Lewy body dementia. But you find no relevant results.

You open your email, and at last you have your distraction: a reply to a message you sent yesterday night, an invitation for an interview.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her office is on the third floor. Early afternoon daylight floods in through the glass walls; there is a large tropical orange flower in one corner of the room, a specimen that could never survive here in the arid Southwest without shade from the sun and religious misting. Marion May Davis, Mari for short, is in her mid-fifties and has lines in her face and natural grey hair cut into a tidy Anna Wintour bob. She looks her age, and she looks real, two things you liked about her when you found her online. Mari is an agent. Maybe she’ll even be your agent soon.

“Oh, I love Maroon 5,” she sighs romantically as she scrutinizes your resume.

“Me too!” you lie, smiling so forcefully your cheeks are beginning to ache. You don’t want to leave Aegon, but you have to. He’s torturing you, he’s killing you. The Marvel audition is tomorrow, and you cannot bring yourself to care about it. There is a pink neon sign on Mari’s office wall that reads in whimsical cursive: good vibes only. Not terribly original, but you appreciate the sentiment.

You tap your black ballet flats anxiously against the bamboo floor as you watch Mari contemplate your resume. You have hidden your ankle brace in your purse. You are wearing a simple sleeveless grey sheath dress that Baela saw at a Brooks Brothers and bought for you—It’s so classic! she had said—and matching cool-toned eyeshadow: sparkly lilac Betrayal by Urban Decay, silver Iced Out by Huda Beauty.

Mari asks: “Did you have any trouble finding the office?”

“No, not at all! But I did have to park super far away because I am awful at parallel parking, and somehow it feels even hotter than usual here.”

“Well, we’re so far inland.”

You are in Tarzana, and it is Thursday July 10th, and you have the sense that time is rapidly ticking down, not just to the end of the year when your parents will summon you back to Minnesota but to September when Aegon is getting married on Turks and Caicos. From outside you can hear cars and pedestrians on Ventura Boulevard, an east-west asphalt artery of shops, hotels, and offices in northwest Los Angeles, the site of a former ranch established in 1919 by Tarzan author Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Mari puts your resume down on her transparent glass desk, naked except for a MacBook Pro. Frigid air pumps out through the vents on the ceiling. “Okay, I’ll take you.”

“Really?!” you squeal; and yet you cannot ignore that this feels bittersweet. Aegon’s really getting married? I’m really leaving him? “Yay!”

“Yeah, I like your energy. And your outfit is great, very European, very chic. The makeup, well…” Mari chuckles. “They’ll do that for you at shoots. But tone it down a bit more for auditions. They want to see you as a blank slate they can scribble all over.”

“Sure,” you agree instantly. “I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your best client ever!” I won’t even hook up with you and thereby enrage your significant other!

Mari is typing on her MacBook Pro. “Give me a few days to send your stuff out and see what I can find for you. I love that picture of you with the sunflower…where was it taken?”

“The Flower District,” you say, thinking of the day you went there with Aegon and got ice cream afterwards, and he had remembered that you like vanilla.

“Delightful.” Mari is still typing. “I’m also going to email you the contact info for a friend of mine. He’s a plastic surgeon, he’s fantastic, I recommend him to all my clients. I’d like you to do a consult with him.”

You are ripped out of your not-so-distant memories, your effortful enthusiasm, and you have to be intentional to not seem offended. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate that, but I’m not interested in breast augmentation.”

“Oh no, I was thinking of your face.”

You stare at her. Reflexively, you touch your fingertips to your cheek. “My face? You want me to change…my face…?”

“Not change, dear!” Mari says. “Just enhance. Just make little tweaks here and there. I think you could really benefit from a rhinoplasty, and maybe something around the brows too…a lift? John will know when he examines you. He’s a magician! Have you seen the before and after pictures of Blake Lively? Or Mindy Kaling, or Taylor Swift? You’ll still look like you. You’ll just be an even better version of you!”

Outside, some tiny dog is yapping from a stroller or a purse. In this office, icy air blows down from the ceiling vent. You study Mari: undyed hair, no face or neck lift, probably not even Botox or Juvederm. “But you…you haven’t had any procedures done, have you?”

Mari smiles patiently, like she’s trying to explain a hard truth to a child, the fact that parents don’t always stay together or that pets inevitably die. “I work behind the camera, dear. Not in front of it.” Then she resumes typing on her MacBook Pro.

You watch her for a few seconds, listening to cars whooshing by on Ventura Boulevard. Then you grab your black Michael Kors purse—borrowed from Baela’s closet, at her suggestion—and stand up. Your wounded left ankle gives a shriek of protest. “Thank you for your time, but I don’t think this is a good fit. Have a great weekend!”

“What?” Mari says, peering up incredulously at you from behind her laptop, like she’s not used to being the one who gets dumped. You are already at the doorway.

“Bye!” you call with a wave, and sprint to the elevator at the end of the hall. You hammer the circular button and run inside when the doors open. Once you are alone and descending, listening to an instrumental version of Despacito, you take your ankle brace out of Baela’s Michael Kors purse and put it on. Then the elevator doors open again, and you are in another cold sterile hallway, and you hurry through a glass revolving door and escape out onto Ventura Boulevard.

The sun is blinding, the heat like an oven, your heart pounding heavily in your ribcage; your ankle throbs through the dose of Advil you took this morning. You stand on the sidewalk, jostled by women carrying shopping bags and men striding importantly by as they talk on their phones, and you try to remember which direction you came from.

I don’t want another agent, you think dizzyingly, nauseatingly. I want Aegon. But he’s driving me insane, and he’s hurting me, and soon he’ll be gone.

You get your bearings and walk east. It must be a hundred degrees. The palm trees are sparse and very tall and cast almost no shade; sweat drips down your face, your underarms, the ridge of your spine. You can’t tell if you’re panting because of the heat or because you’re freaking out or both. It’s probably both.

Your phone is ringing. You yank it out of the Michael Kors purse and answer in a breathless huff. “Hello?”

“Hi, honey!” Mom chimes. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” you say, although you’re certainly not. The sun is beating down like you’re a lizard under a heat lamp. “I just had an interview with—”

“Listen, we have to get you home for bridesmaid dress shopping,” Mom continues briskly. Ambiently, you can hear Clara chatting away about different fabrics, chiffon and tulle and satin and lace. “I’m looking at flights right now. How’s the first week in August?”

“Well, Mom, I’m really not sure because my schedule is changing all the time and I never know when I’m going to have an appointment or an audition and my manager Josh yells at me when I don’t put in enough hours at Cold Stone and—”

“This is important,” Mom snaps. There is the click click click of her manicured fingernails against her laptop keyboard. “Your sister only gets married once.”

“I know it’s important.” But what I’m trying to do out here is important too. “And I’m really happy for her and I’m thrilled about the wedding. I love weddings.”

“Then act like it.”

“I just honestly don’t have a regular schedule right now and missing a week can make a big difference. Do I have to be there in person for the dress thing? Can I just send you my measurements? You and Clara have a vision for this, so just pick whatever you want me to wear.”

Mom sighs impatiently. “No, we can’t do that! Honey, you know you have difficult proportions. We need to see the dress in person and order any alterations.”

“Okay,” you concede, feeling woozy and leaning against a streetlight that burns your arm. “Fine. Yeah. The first week in August is great.”

“And it’s especially vital that you look your best because you’re going to be the maid of honor. Yay! Isn’t that exciting?!”

You touch your furrowed forehead; it’s slick with sweat. Your period started this morning, and that can’t be helping the situation. “Does Clara want me to be her maid of honor?”

Faintly, you can hear Clara saying something about her best friend Kinsley, and your mother shushes her. “It should be her only sister,” Mom tells you.

“…Is that a no? Because Kinsley can do it, I really don’t mind. If I land a role I’m not necessarily going to be able to fly back for planning and parties and stuff—”

“You will be the maid of honor,” Mom insists. “Your father and I are paying for the wedding. We want you to be the maid of honor. Friends come and go, but family is forever. That’s the end of it.”

“Okay,” you say, and it comes out like a whimper; the heat is overwhelming. “Mom, I have to go, I have to try to find my car. I forget where I parked.”

“I’ll email you the tickets once I buy them.”

“Thanks!” you manage weakly, then hang up and wobble on your sprained ankle in the direction of your Honda, eastward, away from the ocean, back towards the Midwest from which you once made your botched exodus.

Suddenly you feel violently ill, and your vision begins to go dark, and you know you need to sit down before you pass out on the sidewalk and roast to death. You dart into the nearest building, a T.J. Maxx, and flee through throngs of shoppers to the furniture section. You collapse into a leopard-print armchair and sit there slumped and gasping, glistening with sweat, the room spinning around you. There is a fawn-colored shag rug on the floor that reminds you of one of Becca’s Pekingese dogs. You lean over and vomit the contents of your stomach onto it: a piece of toast with a teaspoon of peanut butter, a banana, some red grapes, a lot of Diet Coke.

Oh God. Oh no.

You look around to see if anyone has noticed yet; it doesn’t seem like it. Then you quickly roll up the shag rug and shove it under a dresser. You return to your leopard-print armchair and cover your flushed face with your trembling hands, your blood like boiling water beneath your skin.

Do I have to change my face to be an actress?

You shake your head, trying to expel this thought like seagulls from a picnic, sharp bold beaks pecking mercilessly for crumbs.

I have to get out of here. I have to get back to my car.

Your 2003 Honda Accord is parked no less than a ten-minute walk away. You wait a little while to give yourself time to cool down—a T.J. Maxx employee asks if you need assistance and you politely decline, then he frowns down at the floor as if he’s thinking: Isn’t there supposed to be a rug here?—and then you venture back out into the heat. Immediately upon leaving the shade and air conditioning of the T.J. Maxx, your nausea returns with a vengeance and you stumble as the sidewalk sways beneath your black ballet flats. People laugh at you like you’re drunk or high. You retreat back into the T.J. Maxx and seek refuge in the leopard-print armchair.

What am I going to do?

You fumble your phone out of the Michael Kors purse and go to call Baela…then you remember she’s currently on a transcontinental flight to Paris to film Yorgos Lanthimos’s new movie. You call Jace three times, but he doesn’t pick up. Maybe he’s in class. Maybe he’s asleep.

Aegon?

“No,” you mutter to yourself. “No way.” Out of ideas, and not able to think all that well anyway under the present circumstances, you call Mason. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey!” he says excitedly. “You back in Minnesota?”

“No, sorry, I’m in L.A.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “How’s that going?”

“Actually, not that great at the moment.”

“Yeah, you sound weird.”

“I’m really sick. I think it’s the heat. I’m trapped in a T.J. Maxx and I can’t get to my car, and even if I could I’m worried I’d crash while driving home.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Mason says distractedly, and you can hear that he’s typing two thousand miles away in his Minneapolis office.

“What should I do?”

“Call an Uber?”

This is sensible, and yet you moan helplessly in your armchair. A T.J. Maxx employee is sniffing around the dresser where you’ve stowed the soiled shag carpet, grimacing. “A ride all the way down to Harbor Gateway is going to cost over a hundred dollars. And my parents will see the charge on my card. And what if I pass out and the Uber guy robs me?”

“Call your agent?” Mason suggests. “He probably won’t rob you.”

“I can’t call him.”

“Why not? Isn’t that his job, to take care of you?”

You blink dazedly at a rack of baby clothes, sailboats and elephants and ladybugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Well I can’t drive to L.A. to pick you up, so you gotta figure something else out.”

“Okay,” you surrender. “Thanks anyway. Bye.”

“Bye. Let me know next time you’re home for a visit!”

“Totally.” But you have no interest whatsoever; you can’t even envision kissing him. You are, to your misfortune, very much so a one-dude type of girl, as Aegon put it.

You stall for a moment, opening random apps on your phone, scrolling blindly through Instagram. Now you feel less sick and more exhausted, like you could fall asleep and never wake up, although you’re developing a powerful hammer-like thudding just above your left eye. Another T.J. Maxx employee asks if you need help finding something, and you pretend to be considering buying the leopard-print armchair. A manager is using her radio to ask if anybody knows where the shag rug went. Out of alternatives, you call Aegon.

“Hello?” he says when he picks up, like he’s surprised to see your name on his screen.

“Hi,” you reply miserably. “I’m dying.”

He snorts a laugh. “You’re not dying. Where are you?”

“I’m stranded at a T.J. Maxx in Tarzana. I think I have heat sickness or something. Every time I try to walk to my car I almost pass out.”

“Yeah, you’re not used to temps like this, are you?” Aegon sounds kind, gentle, wise, and you hate how much you want to like him again, to be friends, to be more than that. “Well, you’re in luck, because I’m just finishing up a shoot in Studio City and I can probably be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Cool!” you cheer feebly.

“A T.J. Maxx, right?”

“Yup. On Ventura Boulevard.”

“Okay. See you soon, I’ll let you know when I’m close.”

“Thanks,” you murmur drowsily.

“No problem,” Aegon says, and hangs up.

You drag yourself to the bathroom, splash cold water on your face, gulp some down to clean your mouth out and immediately throw it up into the sink. You hide in a stall and rest your head in your hands for a while—ankle throbbing, skull aching, cramps in your lower belly—and only leave when Aegon texts you that he’s two minutes away. As you stumble past the leopard-print armchair now damp with your sweat, you see an employee discovering the shag rug under the dresser and unrolling it. He recoils and shouts: “What the fuck is that?!”

Just outside the T.J. Maxx, Aegon is double-parked and receiving jeers and honks from his fellow motorists. He ignores them. Aegon has closed the top of his Chrysler Sebring convertible and inside the air conditioning is on full blast, an Arctic tundra, the ice cream freezer at Cold Stone Creamery. You throw yourself limply into the passenger’s seat and pull the door shut, which feels like it takes immense effort. Then Aegon surges into traffic and barrels down Ventura Boulevard. You rest your head against the car window and close your eyes.

Aegon prods you with a large chilled bottle of blue Powerade he must have grabbed from a 7-Eleven or something.

“I can’t drink that,” you say dimly.

“Yes you can.”

“Do you have, like, a sugar-free version or—?”

“Shut up. Drink the Powerade.”

You take the bottle, twist off the top—again, this seems to take far more strength than it should—and swallow several gulps, hoping they’ll stay down. Almost immediately, the hammer strikes just above your orbital socket begin to dissolve away, and you feel a little more alert, and your nausea does not make another appearance.

“Better, right?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” you admit, touching your skull in dull amazement.

“It’s the magnesium. It’s good for headaches. And the salt helps you rehydrate. What the hell are you doing all the way up here in Tarzana, anyway?”

You sip your Powerade as you stare out the window, watching buildings and palm trees soar anonymously by. Aegon gets on the 101 heading east towards Elysian Park. You know that’s where he’s taking you without needing to ask. “Do you think there’s something wrong with my face?”

“What?”

“My face. Like my nose and my eyebrows. Do I have weird eyebrows? Is that why no one thinks I can be an actress?”

“Your eyebrows are fine,” Aegon says, glancing over at you, confused. He’s wearing the black suit that he dons for film sets, a skinny tie, a half-untucked white shirt. He notices the brace on your left ankle. “Damn, Sunshine, you’re a mess today. What happened there?”

You drink your Powerade as you debate whether to tell him about Becca. You decide against it. “I tripped and fell because I’m an idiot.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“So my new agent will take me seriously.”

Aegon must be startled—he turns to look at you, then back to the rushing five eastbound lanes of the freeway—but he stays calm, dispassionate, like he’s trying not to scare you away. “Is that who told you to cut up your face?”

“Turns out I don’t like her, so. Never mind.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” Aegon says, sounding a bit relieved.

“I am.” And maybe you’re relived too. “For now.”

“You down to get lunch?”

“I don’t want to vomit in front of you.”

He smiles. “I’ve seen worse things, I guarantee it.”

“What about my car?”

“Where exactly did you leave it?”

You have to think for a while, finishing the Powerade and letting your mind become useful again, and then you recall that you parked on a side street by a dog daycare, Dog-E-Dayz or Dog-E-Den or something like that.

Aegon picks up his phone and calls his receptionist Brandon. “Hey, Brando! Listen, your favorite client left her car in Tarzana. Yeah, I know. Way out there. So it’s parked near a dog daycare about a half-mile from the T.J. Maxx. Can you look up the address and get a tow guy to pick it up and take it down to the garage at her apartment building? Great. You have the model and plate number and everything? You’re a genius. And I’ll pay you extra for the inconvenience. No, no, I insist. Talk to you later. Bye.”

Then Aegon plugs his phone into the aux, and for some reason he puts on an Eminem playlist, and you doze against the cool clear window until you get to Chinatown.

The waitress Lanying asks Aegon about his siblings—“How is Aemond? What about Helaena? Okay, and what about Daeron?”—and Aegon smiles and nods and patiently reiterates that they’re all fine. You are led to the usual spot by the fish tank, massive black-and-orange oscars floating behind the glass and glowering at you, their bulging eyes reddish and hostile. Soon the table is cluttered with a tea kettle and two cups, wonton soups, your moo goo gai pan, Aegon’s boneless spare ribs. You eat cautiously, each bite slow and groggy. A family seated nearby has a baby girl, and she giggles and smacks the table with her tiny chubby hands each time you wave at her. Aegon watches this, oddly wistful for someone who admittedly has never wanted children.

“Here,” Aegon says, offering you a forkful of his boneless spare ribs. “Eat.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You look droopy. You need fat and sugar and deliciousness.”

You acquiesce and let him feed you the morsel of pork, sweet and fatty and rich and sublime. You chew very slowly, and still it’s gone too soon.

“You have to eat more,” Aegon says. “I think that was part of the problem today.”

“Thank you for rescuing me. I’m pretty sure it was just the heat. And I was kind of upset about the appointment with the agent lady, and my mom called and stressed me out about Clara’s wedding. And oh, by the way, I got my period so no need to worry about that. Whoo hoo.”

Aegon doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke. He gazes at you thoughtfully, then uses his fork to point at the baby girl at the next table. “Do you want kids?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I love kids. But I have like fifteen more years to reproduce, and if I want to be an actress I kind of have to do that first.”

“I figured. You worked at summer camps in Watts, right?”

“After-school programs. All the other employees hated me, I never wanted to yell at the kids or tell them what to do, I’d just get down on the ground and play with them. I’m so great at Uno.”

Aegon smiles. “Yeah?”

“And Sushi Go, and Scrabble, and Apples to Apples.”

“Apple girl from Appletown,” Aegon says, skimming the zodiac calendar written in red ink, twelve animals and their descriptions, attributes, shortfalls, perfect mates. Then he taps it. “Which one are you?”

You flinch, cave in, feel tremendously low. He really doesn’t remember. It didn’t matter to him, I didn’t matter to him. You stab at your moo goo gai pan with your fork, looking down so he won’t see how upset you are. “You are so fucking mean.”

But Aegon is bewildered, like he’s not sure what he’s done wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, July 14th, and you are ringing up a Gotta Have It-sized Cookie Doughn’t You Want Some for a Los Angeles Southwest College student when Aegon walks into Cold Stone Creamery, the string of metal bells jangling against the glass door. You go to meet him by the ice cream freezer, where Aegon scans the menu of Signature Creations. He is carrying a manila folder and wearing a yellow t-shirt with a tan jacket thrown over it, dark jeans, and white-and-gold Nike Killshots. He seems confused.

“You don’t want an Our Strawberry Blonde like last time?” you say. You haven’t seen or heard from him since your Marvel audition, which was pretty dismal. Aegon stood in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, and even though he put on his black sunglasses and grinned at you when it was over, you could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Oh yeah,” Aegon says. “Yeah, I do, thanks. That’d be perfect.”

You make his ice cream, Aegon pays in cash, and then you ask Josh if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. Aegon evidently wants to talk to you; he sits at the table by the window and watches you expectantly. Josh reluctantly agrees and you take a seat across from Aegon. He holds out his spoon and won’t speak to you until you take a bite. Eventually, you do: chunks of fresh strawberries, sticky caramel, rich fluffy whipped topping, jarringly sweet and cold and perfect, even if it’s not what you’d usually order.

“Well, you didn’t get the Marvel job,” Aegon says.

“I’m not shocked. They barely looked at me.”

“But I might have found you something else.”

“A dog food commercial? A brief and soulless flashback of somebody’s dead wife?”

“A feature film,” Aegon says, and you stare numbly at him.

“What?”

“Indie, Sundance. Starring role. First billing. I got you an audition.”

You snatch the balloon down just as it begins to float away. You’re trying to prepare yourself for disappointment. “They’re not going to like me.”

“They might,” Aegon says. He lays the manila folder on the table and slides it over to you. “I’m not supposed to let this out of my office, so don’t lose it.”

“It’s the script for the audition?”

“It sure is.”

This can’t be happening. “How did you get them to agree to put me on the list?”

Aegon shrugs. “I didn’t do anything. They reached out to me.”

You place your palm on the folder to make sure it’s real. “What’s the movie about?”

He smiles as he licks strawberry ice cream from his spoon. “Vampires.”

“It’s horror?”

“Kind of horror. Kind of romance. I think it’s just right for you.”

“When’s the audition?”

“This Saturday.”

“Okay,” you say, savoring it, this liminal hope you can’t stop yourself from feeling. You’ve always been an optimist. Perhaps no number of curses can change that. “Okay. I’ll be ready, I promise.”

“Don’t forget about the charity gala,” Aegon reminds you. “It’s Saturday night, the same day. But there are like ten hours in between so it shouldn’t be a problem, even if the audition runs late.”

You peer through the window at pedestrians walking by outside. It’s twilight, and streetlights are turning on, and neon tubes glow with cold chemical fire. “I don’t think I want to go to that.”

“You have to. It’s work. I can introduce you to industry people.”

“Is Becca going to be there?”

“Of course. But she won’t bother you.”

Why does he cheat? you think forlornly, and then you remember something Aegon said the day you first met: Life is short. I try to keep it delicious. “I’ll go,” you agree under duress.

“You sure will,” Aegon says, and scrapes the last of the ice cream from his bowl and gives it to you, his plastic spoon heavy with melting pink magic.

When you return to your apartment well after 11 p.m., Jace is sprawled across the orange couch in his pajamas and watching Blade. He is noisily slurping Pad Thai from a takeout container. You kick off your work Sketchers and remove your ankle brace. It still twinges, but you’re healing.

Abruptly, you recall Aegon’s paranoia concerning Jace’s presence at your 4th of July festivities. “Hey, Jace?” you say, getting an idea.

He glances lazily over at you. His dark hair falls in chaotic curls around his face. “Yeah?”

“I have to go to a charity gala on the 19th. That’s this Saturday. It’s very fancy and very formal, and I don’t really want to go alone and have no one to talk to. Do you want to go with me?”

You had imagined this might take some convincing, and yet Jace is immediately amenable and has only one question. “Will there be free food?”

“Yeah, I assume so. Probably an open bar too.”

“I’m in.” Then he winks and makes a joke. “It’s a date.”

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