#its probably time for me to stop thinking and go to bed. and i will.

[moonlight-prose]

i feel like I’ve been ignoring my boy so what do you think about hello/goodbye hugs that linger + joaquín torres?

who knows why?

a/n: this request has sat in my drafts for so long i can't remember when you sent it. but the yearning i had for torres in 2021/2022 has come back tenfold. and of course it had to be another friends to lovers arc. i always feel as if he's the perfect character for something this soft. plus you and i both know he's just that one friend you end up falling for after years of denying it. (i listened to DtMF to capture all those emotions needed.)

summary: the orders came in quicker than you wanted to accept. a place far enough to drag you from the friends made and family found. but when the time to say goodbye arises feelings begin to bleed through.

word count: 1.8k+

pairing: joaquin torres x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, goodbyes that are painful, joaquin is hopelessly in love, friends to lovers, teasing as best friends do, angst (because it's who i am), goodbyes.

The years were cruel to a soul that ached. Time that passed with fluid ease around someone stagnant—trapped against their will. Emotions tangled in a web that clung to their heart became a companion you were familiar with, a friend that complied to its own decisions. Wild. Untamed. Unpredictable in the face of everyone…especially him.

“I could go with you.” He fixed himself to the door frame, arms crossed and body stiff, as noise echoed behind him.

They were taking shots in the kitchen. Pre-gaming the final night out before they were handed mission orders. You could practically taste the cheap vodka from your perch on the bed—the pungent scent of lime chasers wafting through the open door. The night was meant to be filled with ease. Bar hopping, a club on the off chance it wasn’t spilling out with people, and early morning pancakes to curb the hangover.

All before the inevitable goodbyes.

The bitten back tears and watery smiles. The raspy promises of next times that would turn into almosts and unsure possibilities. You loathed that which couldn’t be stopped. A half filled life with friends who were found further away each year you tried to find them.

“You can’t go with me,” you sighed, wiping at the shitty eyeliner that never seemed to stick. “Wherever they put me is where I have to be. No friends allowed.”

A curl of his lips ensnared you—pulling at the fragments and tendrils of a heart that couldn’t take much more. “I could call Sam. Get him to do me a favor.”

“Nice,” you drawled. “Calling Captain America just to bug me wherever I wind up.”

“You can’t say you don’t enjoy me bugging you muñeca.”

“Never said I don’t.”

“You implied it.”

“Estas loco.”

“I’m not-”

A shrill overbearing voice you would know anywhere simply by the way Joaquin tensed as she stumbled down the hall—a half empty can of something you couldn’t read clutched in her sticky hand. “You’re gonna save me a dance tonight Torres.”

You dug your teeth into the side of your cheek, busying yourself with a mascara wand. Somehow her flirting always resembled a threat, but you speculated it was the twisting of your pulsating heart that told it differently. Joaquin was always one to appear polite. Saying yes in the face of those who would overlook how his brown eyes turned sharp. Piercing to the gut of whoever pushed him too far.

Hope flourished like a maddening inkling—another piece added to a forever half finished picture—when he shuffled away from her. You were insane to cling to it. Something so small even as he appeased her drunken pleas for more than just awkward conversations.

“Yeah…” You dug a nail into the palm of your hand, swallowing the ache that formed like a stone at the bottom of your empty stomach. “We could probably do that.”

The pleading gaze he threw your way went overlooked for the eyeliner that still had to be applied. A mundane task to distract from the way he was dragged out of the room, a raucous cheer of friends welcoming him back into the fray. He wasn’t yours to keep from the fun. Certainly not someone you could place a claim over after years of friendship—the hope of something more diminishing with every passing year.

You couldn’t delude yourself into believing things would change. The orders were pinned on your board to be taken in the morning, a harsh slap of reality placed upon the life you might never have. But you could accept that. Getting your first post wasn’t meant to be tangled with a man, especially your best friend.

So you’d grin and bear it. A familiar action you were used to submerging yourself into.

“Vamos!” Your friend shouted, giving you just enough time to grab your phone before they shuffled out into the front yard.

Orange lights blinded you the second you crossed the club’s threshold—flashing with the rhythm of the music. Everyone dispersed before you could ask what the plan was, leaving you to stumble after them. Three vanished into the throng of people on the dance floor, loud music blaring a reggaeton song you recognized from years ago. The bar was crowded, people packed into such a small space—the alcohol flowing with ease given the summer heat.

“Lost?”

You jumped, Joaquin’s hands steadying you in the heels that stuck to a tequila layered floor. “I think we’ve been ditched.”

“More fun this way,” he shouted over the music. “Means we don’t have to babysit.”

“I’d say we can get drunk, but…”

He nodded, palms slipping into yours. “I dance better sober.”

“I doubt that!” you laughed.

“Oh that’s how it’s gonna be? Mírame.” Yanking you close enough to avoid getting stepped on, he twirled you into a familiar two step. Muscle memory snapping to attention the closer he got—his touch sliding to grab at the fabric around your hips.

Dancing with Joaquin felt like home. A familiar realm of comfort that finally gave you the chance to fall into his touch—your body melting into the fast beat of the song. There wasn’t much room to move, people crowded in until they spilled out the front doors, but you ignored it for the favor of having him close. The heady scent of his cologne and sweat coated your senses, blinding you to the cheap tequila you could practically taste off everyone else.

Someone rammed into your back, elbow knocking the wind out of your lungs. “Fresh air?”

His hand clasped over yours. “Way ahead of you.”

Nearly getting hit in the head by two men spinning their girls had Joaquin dragging you quick enough to trip you. His body acting as the barrier for such a large crowd—stepping into the role of protector until you were no longer around to need him.

How could you explain that to lose him would rip the ground beneath you usually steady feet? That to leave him was destroying the very gravity that held you firm on the ground.

“I won’t miss this place,” you muttered, sucking in a lungful of crisp air until the burn spread across your chest. “Too many fucking people.”

He grinned, thumb catching the thrumming vein along your wrist. “It’s not so bad.”

“Well…no. It’s never bad with you.”

“That right?” Lips pulled into a smirk you’d seen a thousand times over, mischief screaming in eyes that bored into yours.

“Cochino! I wasn’t thinking that way.” Yet even as you said the words you laughed. For the simple reason that he was your favorite person, your small slice of joy on days that offered that all too familiar shadow of darkness.

He laughed and your heart lit up on the inside, the agony of leaving, the grief of losing him, dissipating while you stood in his shine. Such a small thing to miss but even as you realized it you knew that not a day would go by where you wouldn’t miss everything about him. Small pieces of your life scattered into memories you wished you could pick up.

What you wouldn’t give to have taken more photos.

To solidify his image in ink and tie it to your heart.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he admitted, the cool breeze washing over you. “Gonna miss you.”

“Yeah…”

Tonight you wouldn’t tell him. Not when the hours were still young and the orders that hung like a cloud over your head were nonexistent until morning. So you chose the easy route—push for more time, make whatever this was exist in the present for as long as you could live in it. For your sanity…and his.

“Coffee?”

He smiled, squeezing your hand. “Absolutely.”

“You got everything?”

Dropping the bag, you watched people in a similar uniform shuffle onto an already tightly packed plane. “I think so.”

“You sure? Can’t forget the snacks or headphones for the pendejos who snore or-”

“Joaquin.”

“And make sure you snag a good seat. Don’t sit close to the bathroom. Trust me-”

“Joaquin,” you snapped. “You’re acting like your mother.”

His hands covered your face before you could grab them, pushing your head back with a snort. “And? She knew her shit.”

That much you knew to be true. Nights spent crowded around a small kitchen table, homework scattered beneath heavy plates weighted down with arroz con carne, salsa smeared on the corners of what was once perfectly lined notebook pages. Days splayed out in his backyard, the sun scorching your skin as he played football with his cousins. Music blasting from shitty speakers in his room, a fan going high enough to kill the lights in the whole house.

Life that you’d give anything to go back to. Moments you had seared on your skin, burned behind closed eyelids. You could taste the salt from esquites bought down the street—a frozen Gatorade stuffed in the back of his fridge for days his practice with soccer ran long.

He’d been the love of your life since you met him.

If only the two of you had figured it out sooner.

“I-” You sucked in a breath, hands curling into fists. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

Gathering you in a hug tight enough to pop the ache in your spine, he buried his face into the rough fabric on your shoulder. You did the same with his comfortable denim jacket—a piece of clothing you should have stolen long ago.

“We’ll see each other alright?”

You bit back the thick swell of tears. “Hopefully soon.”

“You forget,” he laughed. “I’ve got the favor of Cap on my side.”

“Don’t piss off Sam Wilson with visitation days okay?” you sighed, digging a hand into the soft curls at the base of his neck. “Just…go be a hero. I’ll make sure to tell everyone I know Falcon is my best friend.”

His smile pressed to your neck, hands tight around your waist. “Bueno. Someone has to know you’re cool.”

“Fuck off,” you sobbed.

Pulling away felt impossible. A feat you couldn’t have pulled off even if you held all the strength in the world. But his arms were loosening and his face was close to yours and suddenly you understood why people died for the meager touch of fleeting love. It would be so easy to kiss him, quicker than breathing. And yet…you watched as something flickered in his eyes.

Confirmation that your time would come; it just wasn’t right now.

“Good luck,” he murmured, swiping at the tears he could catch. “Until next time?”

You nodded, hand curling around his wrist. “Until next time.”

[faorism]

[lev:red 3.04 spoilers, very suggestive in the most mundane of ways?] while there are many closer by their house or hq, when they have the time eliot walks thirty minutes off route to go to a small family-owned pharmacy because he knows they offer hand packing of pills. probably why they're still in business; rare thing these days, and eliot may not have allergies, but he knows the resistances and sensitivites he's developed over the years, and he knows they can pack his shit right.

their home supply just ran out of simple antibacterial cream, and so eliot makes his way over. he notices parker, of course, a few minutes in, but he doesn't call her out and she hangs back. trailing him. watching him.

when he's picks just a tube of the cream, he hands it off to his side and (as expected) finds parker there with a basket. he peeks in and sees tampons, one of every kind of floss they have in stock, and a small bottle of the multivitamins hardison prefers, as well as (like a troubling promise of what their night might be like) lube, two boxes of sesame street band-aids, and glucose monitoring lancets.

eliot sighs, picks up the lube, and says silicone? really gonna need that? we still got some at—at her devious smile, eliot tosses the tube back in. right.

before he can drop his hand, parker snaps forward and steals it. she holds it up, examining the knuckle of the index finger. it bears the mark of where her canine tore into the flesh just a few days before. the area around it has now reddened, although it's thankfully not swollen or hot to the touch. yet.

it's still bothering you? you would think your body would have gotten used to my—parker chomps her teeth—by now.

agitated it fending off the goon squad, i reckon. eliot flexes his fingers. close enough to the bone im keeping an eye on it.

parker pouts thoughtfully, pressing a thumb into where he's most tender. should i pick up condoms?

made sure to not break their skin, so we should be good on exposure. there was once when he wouldn't have dared over a paper cut, but eliot has calmed down, putting more trust into PrEP and his ability to subdue without bloodshed. if you need them for your plans, wouldn’t hurt?

parker glances down, calculates, and then skips off. eliot follows as she snatches a box of latex gloves instead of condoms, hot & cold strips, and... yup, alright. she has definitely plans, judging by her pausing over the incontinence bed pads.

eliot shakes his head. deciding between comfort or absorption?

parker nods. given the greater utility, he reaches for the latter but perhaps his movement prompted her, because she snatches forward for one outside his usual dimensions for the widest.

no sharps in my ass, parker.

parker glares at him. i know that! she then... huh, shoves the basket at him and storms off. she lets him see her bump into a display to steal a chocolate bar on her way out.

her outburst surprises eliot. makes him pause. review their conversation tor any other obvious signs of distress, and finding no more agitation than her new usual since hardison left.

but she has been off.

eliot dutifully checks out (making sure they ring up the chocolate as well) and he doesn't have to go far to find parker. she sits on the old coin operated dolphin outside the shop.

gonna tell me what that was about?

when parker doesn't answer right away, he pats his pockets and puts the two quarters in, making parker rock back and forth morosely.

i take good care of you, parker finally says.

course you do, darling. it was a bad joke on my part. you're a good dom—

its not about that. ill do anything for my family.

eliot squeezes her shoulder. i know that too.

parker finishes off the chocolate and waits until the dolphin stops before she continues, voice small and eyes avoiding contact: was i too... she waves up and down her body. ...me this time?

how you figure?

bre got hurt. i scared the nana haters and they took too long and bre had to make a distraction, so. my fault.

oh, park...

she jumps up at her name and starts walking home. eliot matches her pace. he stops her, pulls her into the shadow of a building. parker is at a height with eliot, but sometimes it cna be so obvious how much more lean she is than him but how small she looks when she's feeling pathetic. eliot covers her jaw with his hand not busy with the bag of newly purchased items; he can see where she bit him against her skin.

i know they're, like, trafficking victims. but im still so angry at them.

we get heated during cases. harry had his own moment. you and soph conspired to get bre up there in just that case, right? parker shrugs, noncommittal.

im supposed to be better than that. im me.

that aint how this works.

it should be.

eliot kisses her lips softly, which she tolerates, especially as he puts their foreheads together. they stand close.

i had your back. you had mine, when i had to fight, figuring out how to get into the room fastest. sophie and me, maybe we overlooked how much anyone targeting a nana would make you invested and protective. oversight from sophie as our mastermind and, eliot swallows with a wobble, me as your partner. especially...

especially?

with hardison gone.

parker tenses up. oh.

i miss him too. i always miss him when he's gone away. miss you when—

in a breath, parker slips out of eliots grasp and starts speeding away, to the point eliot has to jog to catch up.

okay. i understand now. im done with those emotions right now.

alright darling, eliot says softly, seeing parkers walla go up rather than get emotional in public.

wanna go home. gonna poke and fuck you so hard.

eliot is excited to have sex with parker, whatever wild and potentially messy it will be. but as he scrolls aside parker, he knows he loves this too: walking by her side, supporting her, with hardisons name on his tongue.

[butchviking]

if someone said some shit like "i love being butch i love that i dont have to shave or wear makeup or conform to femininity" and someone was like "um. you don't have to be butch to do any of that" and they were like "yeah but you will be punished for nonconformity as a woman so its freeing to me to have an identity that reminds me i dont have to be what im expected to be and i can have a community that accepts me for that" i think radblr would be like yeah fair enough.

so explain why i always see this with some snarky comments attached

[xxplastic-cubexx]

charlies turn for the reference sheet beam

[chiimeramanticore]

waow

[rapidhighway]

also picking raspberries turned out to be.. really fucking hard

[skeletons-in-ur-closet]

not to self diagnose but i gotta have some type of ocd bc my thoughts are absolutely ridiculous

[racke7]

My internet has been investigated by a professional.

There might be something weird with the big cables (to quote the guy: the "inner-pair" and "outer-pair" of the eight-cables are of different lengths, but by all accounts still work just fine), but my own equipment has at least passed (no extra-fine for crying wolf for me).

The weird stability-thing continues to be weird. And current test is for them to switch my internet-provider (internet-provider has a use-contract with the cable-operators, who are the ones investigating) over the weekend. See if the problem is on that end.

It's possible that this is the case (at which point I guess I'll try to switch permanently), or that it's that weird cable-length resulting in the problem (which is... a whole different can of worms).

[ashored]

magical girls..... and loto

[confetti-critter]

The night is young and I am free to do whatever my heart desires but unfortunately I have once again found myself trapped in the Time Prison and so I

[running-in-the-dark]

I still don't get this stuff, so, I've got a question: do most allosexuals find random people attractive? and does that mean they look at them and think 'I want to have sex with that person'? not just 'that person is very beautiful' or whatever? like if there's a group of people that are their type or whatever, they might think all of them are. idk, interesting in that way?

and how about thinking about people romantically? I don't get how you would know the difference, and, ugh I'm just so confused and stupid and I'm gonna shut up now

[olli-online]

i might be overdue a hiatus and some self isolation also 🫠......

[arolesbianism]

I've been digging up some one of my most neglected stories recently and I'm finally actually developing the rest of the cast after like what? 7 or 8 years or smth? I genuinely don't know when I first thought up Lace but she's been floating at the edge of my mind since then as my token true timeloop guy as opposed to Butters who doesn't rly count because the quote unquote timeloop was entirely within their control and only was a continuous loop because they kept consciously trying again and again. Lace on the other hand. Legitimately 100% powerless in her timeloop situation, as in there was quite literally Nothing she could do to end the loops herself. Some gods just threw her in a 50 year timeloop without even doing the bare minimum of telling her first and she just sorta had to live with that until it from her perspective abruptly stopped leaving her to deal with the fallout of everything she went through now that she's suddenly being forced to live a real life again. And as fun as all of that is it has been very stagnated for years because there is in fact a story and world that exists outside of and around this one plot that matter quite a bit and that I have been refusing to properly work on until now lol.

[phagodyke]

I love to talk but I rly do feel like we have to be talking for a minimum of 8 hours straight before I feel like I can even begin to rly broach things on my mind or that have been bothering me a lot that I actually want to talk abt without being vague or deflecting or omitting or lying and if the conversation takes a break at any point it resets back to 0 and its still nice regardless but.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

[faemurmur]

-> soft yandere caleb hcs:

1. “you’re mine. you said so.” you get busy—miss a call, forget a text—and when you finally answer, his voice is calm, too calm. “i waited. for hours.” you apologize, sweetly, teasingly even, but he doesn’t laugh. “you promised you’d always be there, remember? don’t break your promises. i… don’t handle that well.” and later, when he holds you close, you feel the way his hands tremble slightly against your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

2. his name in your phone has a lock emoji. -> he changed it himself. he also disabled the option to delete his contact. “just in case someone thinks they can slide into your messages,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “they’ll know who you belong to.”

3. he tracks you. -> not in a creepy way (okay maybe a little), but he has your location always. and when he sees you’re somewhere unexpected, he texts immediately: “what are you doing there?” ……you ask how he knew. “because you’re mine pipsqueak, and i need to know you’re safe. that’s not too much to ask, is it?” and the look in his eyes? he’d burn the whole galaxy just to get you back home.

4. he doesn’t like you being friends with your ex-> at all. he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t tell you not to. he just shuts down emotionally, turns icy and unreadable. it’s bound with his actions though… he would probably still do everything acts of service wise. but he wants you to understand something is wrong, wants you to probe… and when you confront him, he finally murmurs, “i don’t want to be second choice to anyone. i want to be your only. and if that’s too much—” you cut him off with a kiss. you have to. because his voice was starting to sound a little unhinged and a little too honest.

5. he locks the door when you argue.-> not to trap you essentially (which he thinks he isn’t doing…) just to make sure you don’t leave. “we’re not going to sleep angry pips,” he says, softly. “you don’t walk away from me. not when we love each other this much baby.” and when you calm down, he pulls you into his lap, arms like iron around you, and whispers again and again, “mine. mine. mine.”

6. he doesn’t like you dressing up for anyone but him.-> you put on a new outfit, stunning, radiant—and his jaw clenches. why are you so breath-taking my gorgeous he thinks… no wonder he wants a world with just the two of you. “who’s that for?” / “me,” you say, innocent. but he steps closer, cups your jaw gently, possessively. “next time, wear it only when we’re alone. i don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine. or~ you’d hate how i become and say something like i killed your old caleb.”

7. his anger is unpredictable.->when someone flirts with you in front of him, he doesn’t start a fight. but sometimes the look in his eyes speaks more than words ever could. maybe he will break their bones when you leave, maybe he will let it slide. who knows what caleb’s mood dictates him to do. sometimes, he just smiles. and later, when you’re home, he pins you softly to the bed, hands on either side of your head.“do you want them?” he asks, voice flat. “because i can make sure they never speak to you again.” and you— you tell him it’s just him. it’s always been him. like a prayer, like a chanting to balm his rage. and he finally kisses you like a starved man, whispering “good girl.”

8. he deletes numbers from your phone.->you’ll never notice. he’s too smooth. but people you used to talk to? stop replying. and when you ask caleb, he just shrugs with a soft smirk, “maybe they realized they could never compete with me.” and then changes the subject with a kiss and that dangerous look in his eyes again…. this isn’t out of sheer possessiveness though its just out of trust issues.

9. he doesn’t like letting you sleep mad at him.-> you try to turn away in bed, still upset. away from him… back on his face like an iron wall. but he slides his arms around you from behind, strong and unyielding.“no. you don’t get to walk away from me in your sleep, either.” and you can feel how serious he is. “we fix this now, angel. i’ll do anything. but you don’t leave.”

10. he has nightmares about losing you.-> he never tells you the full details either. just that he wakes up shaking, pale, and pulls you into his lap, holding you so tightly it almost hurts. “i saw you leaving me,” he whispers into your neck. “don’t ever do that. i wouldn’t survive it.”