#that will not be happening for a while longer

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, mech!ghost x pilot!reader, scifi, noncon/dubcon elements, guided masturbation, temperature play, voyeurism - 1.6K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Another long night in the cockpit.

You could only grin and bear it at this point. Reaching compatibility with your assigned vessel was slowly eating away at your psyche- and worst of all, you couldn’t even leave; not when your prospected affinity levels with the infamous machine had been deemed unprecedented, and certainly not when you knew what happened to deserters.

Conscription was non-negotiable these days; the large colony you had grown up in now ravaged by some otherworldly force and desperately bleeding out resources in response, be it weaponry, rations, or bodies.

The faction had been gifted the GH-05t Mech as an act of goodwill, but ask any official and you’d be informed that the powerful, unused machine would serve better as scrap parts- the real kicker being that they were no longer equipped with the resources or the manpower to dismantle the damned thing. 

GH-05t was a battle vessel; had been lauded as a ground-breaker and a boundary-pusher with the integration of an intelligent battle protocol system, all trained posthumously off the stored memories of some long-dead pilot, surely without his consent- Simon, they had named it in an attempt to make it more user friendly and assistant-like in nature.

Hubris. The system failed to run, turning the fully-functional mech into a glorified mountainous paperweight due to all of the instrumental functions being locked behind unresponsive intelligence. You speculated that the machine had passed hands to save face- to keep the public hopeful despite the system refusing to wake up.

-Wake up. You groaned, slapping lightly at your face.

You hated it here, longing for lazy days on the bleak outer walls, surrounded by the buzz of cicadas and rustling long grass as you waited for your father to get back from the drillsite. Your parents had been so proud when officials showed up at your dilapidated front porch, neat suits, shining eyes, and big smiles blissfully ignoring the very same surroundings they had left to rot;  all while you reeled internally- shaken by the worst news you had received in your life. It was a death sentence. 

It had been years since that day, and you were absolutely sure you had only been given a position like this because of some made-up numbers all while they tried to remind you that you were special, somehow different from your peers.

All damned to the same fate in your eyes.

“-load of shit.” you hissed, rubbing at the uncomfortable neuro-valve hooked into the back of your flight suit. Frustrated, you kicked at the mechanical console snug against your leg, the low rumbling whirr of the machine staying the same in response- apathetic to your misdirected rage. 

A moment passed before you finally leaned back in your seat with a grimace.

You still weren’t used to the flight suits in the mech pilot regs. You almost missed the starchy cargo pants that were worn throughout training- both had been unbearably stiff, but at least the latter hadn’t been so form-fitting.It always freaked you out a bit; the pilot suits were more akin to sleek exodermis, responsive and shock absorbent- It felt wrong to have something so foreign covering your entire body; unnatural. 

Your hips squirmed in the seat, friction suddenly becoming apparent the more you thought about it. The low tone of your monitored vitals raised gradually with the fuzzy heat beginning to shamefully pool in your gut; making you all too glad these late night bonding-sessions were done in an all but abandoned mech bay- your observed progress dwindling along with your prospects as time went on without result. 

Grinding into the seat, you swallowed back the thick saliva coating your mouth, teeth catching on your dry bottom lip as you held back a low, audible shudder; eyes fluttering shut. 

The bulky panel separating your legs became all too appealing as you acknowledged the press of it at your sealed cunt, nudging your apex into the blunt peak while your gloved hands curled around the padding of the built-in armrests.

Then, there was a pulse at your core. 

Eyes snapping open, you became all too aware that the sensation hadn’t come from your body. Straightening up in your seat you were met with a dull blinking text on the panel that had never been there before- 

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: LOADING’

You were rooted in place as you witnessed the glowing, digital bar slowly fill.

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: ONLINE’

You scrambled to pull at the neuro-valve connecting your suit to the mech, only for the small port’s flight locks to engage; a stark hiss emitting from the cockpit door’s airlock.

“Disengage locks.” you commanded, completely lost on what was happening. 

There was a low, fractured robotic groan directly in your comms “-Fuck…” the voice was deep, aggressively masculine and breathy in your ear- the sound holding more human emotion than you were prepared to rationalize. “Where am I?”

“-Disengage locks.” you repeated firmly. 

“The fuck is this?” he snarled, apparently coming to as he barked out questions, disoriented. “-Who are you- why are you in m’head- Fuck, why can’t I see?” 

Your suit was flexing and constricting, going haywire in the confusion. “C-calm down!” you stuttered, a pendulum in your head swinging between gripping dread and the low, heady heat of unmet needs. “Just-Just let me see if I can fix this.” 

Panting shakily, you swiped at the flight panel’s screen- spotting something containing the words ‘optical’ and ‘sensors’, you tapped frantically.

There was an audible wince deep in your ear, then a growling hum met with silence.

“M'dead, aren’t I?”

“-You’re a memory bank- not a person.” you asserted, clarification necessary when it came to a massive mobile death machine. ”C-Can you lay off the suit, please?”

A pulsing wave passed the length of your suit as he listened to your embarrassed response over the comms, the sound of his voice bouncing around in your head. “Fuck, bet tha’ feels nice, yeah?”

A whine bubbled at your lips before you could stop it. “I- You’re not l-listening, Simon.” 

There was a long silence following your plea- air electric and tense.

“Tha’ name- How do you know it?”

“N-not the point!” you argued, only to be met with a full body squeeze- a threat. “-It’s the name of the o-operating system! P-please!”

He relented, your chest heaving as your muscles released tension.

“Well, if you an'I are so close...”

The screen flashed with a notice. 

‘[Main Cockpit Camera Feed - Status: Active]’

Followed by another

‘[Manual Override - Feed Transmission Blocked]’

“-Keep things between us, yeah?” 

Your head swivelled around to look for a camera, landing on a lackadaisical red blink coming from right above the reinforced windshield.

“You're a sight, aren’t you?" listening closely, you could hear the audible scroll of the lens focusing.

You frowned. “Let me out-”

You gasped as a cold heat focused at your core, reminding you that your suit’s temperature regulating measures were completely under his control. “-No need for fuss, we were just getting t’know each other.”

“Th…” you paused, panting softly. “-This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s not to get, Love?” there was a pause as your seat adjusted forward, bumping your cunt into the console. “Give us a show, yeah?”

You whimpered in response, pressure unbearable.

“Look at you.” he snarled, the deep sound goading your rocking hips onward. “Fuck- Wish I could taste you…”

There was a small noise from the screen that had your heavy lids pulling upwards- database bringing up the low-res file of a soldier. 

“-Look at the man doing this to you, love.” 

Your lips parted, eyebrows drawing downwards in confusion as you looked at the attached image; a masked man with voids for pupils staring back at you.

“Y-You’re not-” you gasped as a concentrated cold rushed your breast, nipples pearling up uncomfortably at the sensation- the friction of your undergarments and the newly dropping temperatures sending your head soaring as your hips worked at grinding into the blunt metal. ”-not r-real.”

“-I am.” His voice was a sharp, humorous growl that threatened you to challenge his word, followed by a single deep laugh. “Eyes up- on me, love.”

Your head bobbed as you glanced lazily at the file, unable to make any sense of the written data- not that it mattered anyway.

“Think you can finish for me?”

The suit pulsed rhythmically as you practically humped your seat with eyes screwed shut, the humiliation of your current position itching at something unfamiliar deep in your abdomen. With flushed cheeks, you chased the bubbling pot that made a home in your gut; willing it to boil over.

 “Look at me.” he ordered. “Need y'to look at me.” 

Glancing at the screen in a haze, the exomuscles of your suit flexed in response.

“No- Up.”

your head shot towards the camera, holding contact with the whirring lens as the overstimulation finally became too much- pussy fluttering in euphoria with elbows bracing you, hips pathetically grinding out the high. 

Struggling to catch your breath, you slumped back into the chair- gears adjusting your seat back into a comfortable position.

“Good.” the voice in your ear barked, before lowering incrementally. “-Good…”

The screen lit up with a notice that compatibility requirements had been met- although it didn't mean much to you in your state; chest heaving slowly while you tried to make sense of what happened. 

“Gonna’ let you out- but this has got to stay our secret, yeah?” 

You swallowed, eyelids tugging open as your suit tensed in warning.

“How copy?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good,” he paused. “-don't need anyone but you poking around up here.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 🍎

My personal headcanons for Boyfriend!Caleb after what I've seen and read about his character so far. A/N: All my ride or die Caleb girlies if you disagree with anything on this list im not going to argue with you please don't take my word as law. I love y'all dont fight me 💋 feel free to add more in the replies ‼️MDNI‼️ + cw: quick mention of cnc & primal play

[SFW]

wants to be in your skin wrapped around your nervous system and nestled in the wrinkles of your brain ; if this man could glue you to him he would

remembers everything that happened to him and mc when they were lab rats as kids which is probably where his mental health started rapidly declining

Cuddles ! ; he’ll also cuddle you while youre asleep constantly ; doesn’t matter if you’re in his bed, the guest bed or your bed he’ll climb right in and snuggle up

leaves you bowls/plates of fresh fruit and a glass of water on your nightstand

doing backflips if you tell him he can wash your hair for you ; the longer it takes the better

monitors your social media and online presence “You shouldn't post that no one needs to see you naked” “Im wearing a bikini Caleb” “Basically naked”

big on taking photos he wants as many photos together as possible

movie nights and date nights are his shit he’ll alway be down for that ; if you two have a show you watch together he is genuinely hurt if you watch an episode without him

holds your hand even when you don’t want him to ; would quite literally use his evol to hold your hand in place

if you’re sick he's at your bedside 24/7 with medication and home cooked remedies ; will spoon feed you if you let him

uses his body as a wall in large crowds to keep people from bumping into you

will beat the brakes off of anyone who dares to even look at you sideways and when you ask him what he did he’ll lie and smile in your face

PINKY PROMISES ARE LAW

will take you everywhere with him and will also follow you anywhere ; he’d stand guard outside of the bathroom stall if he could

although he does have some bolts rattling around (because they’re not loose they’re fully free) he will pamper the hell out of you ; he’s running you a bath, rubbing your feet and cooking dinner so you have a relaxed night and warm meal

when you do help him cook he’ll stand behind you and cover your hand with his while he guides your hand with the knife

will hold anything you hand him while he’s on the phone

has an entire closet of all the gifts you’ve ever given him

the type to close the door and immediately lock it if you’re in a room alone with him

hates to argue with you ; he’ll do it, but he regrets it afterwards apologizes profusely later with your favorites foods, sweets, treats and things

has to get a kiss before he leaves ; he’s not leaving without it

the type to wrap your arms around his neck when he goes in for a kiss

loves caging you between his arms and his body at any given chance

has to be touching you in some kind of way

the type to tuck you in every night

loves to give you massages because he loves touching you

[NSFW]

needs you to use your words “tell me how you want it” “don’t cover your mouth” “tell me you missed me” “how much?” “right there or right here? Tell me” “open your mouth” “how much do you love me?” “are you all mine? say it”

records your moans so he can listen to them later

pretty panty lover ; buys you lots of them ; loves to have you model them and you’re getting dicked down if you’re walking around the house in them

takes you anyway he can ; favorite position? ALL OF EM mans brain turns to mush just having his hand on you ; a dom that will punish you, but gives stellar aftercare

loves to tease you by getting you wet and just rubbing his tip over the fabric ; slides the panties to the side instead of taking them off because he loves to see them on you

a vocal moaner and a yapper when he nuts ; nuts inside every time makes him feel like he’s claiming you

Intentionally fails no nut November and says “we’ll try again tomorrow” turns you every way but loose for the entire month

massages your thighs and coochie so he can watch his cum drip out of you

a slurper and moaner when he eats it ; eats the pussy and the ass

puts the colonel hat on you

100% into cnc & somnophilia I will not argue with anyone about this ; not a fan of dacryphilia he hates to see you cry

you have to have a safe word because he gets pussydrunk extremely easily

panty stealer ; keeps a pair in his pocket when he goes to work ; clean or dirty doesn’t matter to him

into primal play would chase you through the woods in the Rina Kent - God of War mask and rearrange your guts right there with pleasure

would get jealous of your vibrator/dildo

[starkeysbunny]

fashion killa

cause she a fashion killa, and i’m a trendy ….

pairing - drew x model!baddie!gf!reader

summary - when drew heads to coachella for the first time with his girl, who’d been many times due to her job. the it couple known for their fashion sense, dancing in tune to songs at the festival rials up both them, and the crowd.

warnings - sexual tension :p

⠀.ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

the sun was beating down harshly, gusts of wind blowing dust all around. i felt drew’s arm pull me closer under his grasp. his strong bicep, wrapped around my shoulders.

“baby, ‘should pull the bandana up.” he says gently, his fingers reaching around by my neck to fiddle with the bandana wrapped around it.

“it’s too hot. i’ll get sweaty.” i mumble.

he sighs, his hand coming up to run through his hair. “but dust is gonna get all in your-“

“not happening.” i smile softly, turning my head to look up at him.

he chuckles, his hands lifting in mock surrender, his arm stays wrapped around my shoulder though. “alright, alright. i’ll stop.”

drew and i were at coachella. he’d never been before, and i go nearly every year. after the first two times, it wasn’t because i wanted to go anymore. it was because brands would hire me to go just so they could design my outfits for the three day festival in the palm springs dessert heat.

so naturally, drew and i being together for the past eight months, it was his turn to be dragged along to this event.

“i don’t get the hype. i mean, yeah, it’s fun, whatever. but like, why pay all this money to be severely dehydrated and covered in dust for three days?” he had told me earlier while we were ironically enough, in the encapsulated and air conditioned vip tent.

we were currently watching doja cat’s set. we stood in the vip section near the front, which was to the left side of the stage by the regular ga pit.

i was wearing a low rise denim skirt that barely held in my ass, a vintage chanel crop, paired with givenchy boots and my layers of gold jewelry. bangles on my wrists, a necklace, hoops, and many, many rings.

while drew, of course, wore his carhart brown work pants, and a loewe white tee, with a blue bandana wrapped around his head.

doja cat was currently playing, starting her song agora hills. i turn slightly to reach into my shoulder bag—which was on drew’s shoulder because why would i carry it when i had him? i grab a piece of gum, sticking it between my glossed lips.

i look up at drew to see him already grinning down at me. the slight scruff growing around his jaw and the mullet peeking out behind his neck making my stomach flutter. “want a piece?” i ask sweetly.

he shakes his head. “nah, thank you though, baby.”

i close up my purse and pat it gently as it rests comfortably, secure in drew’s bicep.

i turn back to face the stage, drew’s arm now fully wrapped around my chest, his hand grasping onto the opposite shoulder as he holds me close against his chest. i sway against him, my hips moving as i watch the performance. i chuckle when i hear a certain part of the song that i knew.

i look up at drew from my spot against his chest, a smug smile on my lips.

“rub it in their face,” i begin reciting the lyrics, my hand lightly tapping against his chest at each accent in the lyrics. “put a rock on her hand.” i raise my eyebrows, wiggling my left hand in his face teasingly.

he smirks, a small snicker escaping his lips. i turn back to the stage and i feel him lean down slightly, his lips snaking against my ear. “don’t worry, baby.” he whispers. “one day you’ll be walking down the runway with a rock on your hand. my little wifey.” he teases, gently biting down on my ear playfully.

i smile, feeling his arm pull me tighter into his chest. my manicured nails come up to hold onto his forearm against me. my eyes drift over to the ga side of the crowd, and see a huge majority of the audience’s phones no longer on doja—but pointed and zoomed in on drew and i’s interaction.

ever since drew and i started dating, the speculations and whispers were circling like wildfire. the it girl model with the new up and coming actor. who wouldn’t talk about it? but we had hoped to keep it private the first couple months—just us, no outside thoughts.

and we did, not officially confirming anything until about our fourth month in. even then, we didn’t actually confirm. our relationship is private, but not a secret. we don’t really post each other, maybe once or twice. but, drew and i couldn’t give two shits about any of it. we knew we were real, and that’s all that mattered.

“oh, they’re gonna eat that shit up, babe.” drew chuckles lowly, catching the same thing i saw.

i shrug. “let them. if all those girls that obsess over you think we’re married, maybe they’ll back off.” i joke with a smirk.

he scoffs. “you think those are your biggest problems? what about all the guys that have a subscription to vogue and cosmopolitan just to see you? i swear walkin’ in to this damn festival, why’d you think my hand was on your ass tryna hold down this little skirt, huh?”

i shake my head with a chuckle, smacking his chest playfully. “you love this skirt.” i turn slightly in his arms, my glossy lips pouting up at him.

he snuggly grins, his hands reaching around and squeezing my ass in the skirt, lifting me slightly with it to bring me closer to his lips. “hell yeah, i do, baby.”

-

it was now ten at night, the air simmering down to a much cooler temperature. drew and i were making our way back to the main stage for the headliner, asap rocky.

we were walking in tune, in the space between the barricade and the stage, security guiding us and trailing us. drew’s arm was lazily draped around my shoulders, my left hand holding his by neck. my bracelet jangle as we walk, my hips swaying in my skirt that had somehow gotten lower as the day went on. i think it was because drew kept pulling is down every chance he got…

my bandana was now wrapped around my head. as we were many drinks in at this point, earlier we were in the vip tent and i was slurring, all over drew as i rambled about how i wanted to match with him, so he helped me and tied my bandana around my head like his.

the crowd scrambled loudly when they noticed us walking by the barricade, screaming, clamoring, flashes from cameras. i grin, when i feel drew instinctively pull me closer into his side, my scantily clad body pulled tight into his warm frame.

“y/n! drew! oh my god!”

“y/n, give me a chance!”

“drew! drew! i love you!”

“you’re so hot, y/n!”

“marry me!”

i giggle under my breath and look up at drew, seeing him roll his eyes subtly at their comments. we finally make it over to the vip section. it was much more crowded now, and drew situated us so i was standing in front of him, pulled flush against his chest so i could watch the show and he could keep an eye on everything.

i hardly needed security when i had drew.

we waited patiently, quietly talking as we waited for the show to start

then, the lights went down, strobe lights flashing as the intro of fashion killa started.

i grin, turning in drew’s arms to face him. “it’s our song!”

he smiles. “it is,” he chuckles lowly.

my arms lace around his neck, his hands finding their home on my hips. i move to the music, a grin on my lips as i move my hips.

“cause she a fashion killa..” i giggle, my head plopping into drew’s chest.

“and i’m a trendy..” he trails off, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

the song continues and i look up at him, my gold jewelry blinging in the lights. he smirks with a chuckle, singing along to the lyrics.

“my bitch a fashion killa, she be..” his hand comes to my ass, tapping it at each beat. “busy,” .. tap. “poppin,” .. tap. “tags.” .. tap.

“she got a lotta prada,” he grabs my hands, extending his arms as he swings me out, then pulls me back in close to him. “that dolce and gabbana,” he chuckles as he bops his head.

i giggle, burying my head in the crook of his neck. he grabs my arms again, his hands sliding up from my forearms to my wrists as he lifts them above my head. “wearin’ all the cartier frames..” he chuckles as he sings with asap.

we continue to dance and i turn around for a part of the song, my back against drew’s chest. i reach into my purse on drew’s shoulder, pulling out my camcorder. i record part of asap singing the song before drew snatches the camera from my hands, making me turn around.

he starts to film me to the song and i chuckle, my hands sliding down my waist to my hips, rolling them, my jewelry dancing with my movements. he groans, throwing his head back. he stops the recording and stuffs the camera back in my bag, his hands quickly coming to my hips and pulling me back into him.

“fuck, baby…” he says under his breath. his hands come up to my cheeks, holding my face close to his. “baby, you and me…” he sings.

“me and you.” i finish with a grin, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug against his chest.

the song continued, drew and i playfully dancing around, singing, hands all over each other. the night went on, drew taking videos of me on the camcorder, me stealing it back taking videos of him. my ass against his front as he rolled my hips against him, drinks making us a bit bolder in public.

almost everyone in the regular ga, somewhere throughout the set, lost their attention off asap, us captivating their gaze instead.

there would be millions of videos online tomorrow of us—but we didn’t care anymore. it wasn’t a secret. it was just private. just us.

-

what i imagine the camcorder looks like at the end of the night… 😝

[merrinla]

I was confused that after returning from prison of regrets, Rook was immediately dragged to a hub meeting. Turns out that after the prison, your love interest insisted that everyone leave Rook alone and send them to rest. And only then there was a meeting.

Rook: Solas? (?): We're not sure. Probably searching for some way to defeat Elgar'nan. (?): We don't know. Not really. We were so busy looking for you we… lost track. option: It's been two weeks. Rook: I was… what? Two weeks? option: A two-week long day. Rook: Apparently my hard day lasted two weeks. (?): Yes, you were gone two weeks. Which means you need rest, food, and water. (Emmrich?): Yes, my love. Which is why you shouldn't rush out just yet. (?): Enough of this. You need food and rest. We'll talk business later. (Taash?): Yeah. So you need rest. We can talk about the other crap later. Davrin: We'll talk about this later. You need some rest and Assan needs feeding. (?): Everyone please stop. Rook needs rest, and… food, probably… (?): Yeah. A lot happened. But it can wait. Until you've had some rest. (?): Yeah. There's a lot to catch up on. After you rest, anyway. Rook: Thanks, Bellara. Bellara: Of course. I'm here for you. Whenever you're ready. Rook: Lucanis… Lucanis: Go get some sleep before you collapse. If anybody knows how bad that is, it's me. Rook: Taash… Taash: You need rest. I'll make you tea. Do you want ginger or lavender? Rook: Emmrich, I can't… Emmrich: Please. For the sake of one who's missed your company. Rook: Rest? There's so much… (?): There always is. Don't worry. I won't start without you. Rook: I can't rest, there's too much— (?): Who knows you best? Rook: But there's so much to— (?): Please, Rook. For me. option: Then let's all take a break. Rook: Everything you've done, you all deserve a rest as much as I do. option: Not too long Rook: The gods can wait a little while longer. Rook: Not for too long. But fine, I'll go rest. And hey, it's nice of you to care. (?): You're quite welcome. (?): It's good to have you back. (?): I'm so glad we got you back. (?): It didn't feel right with you gone. (?): Rest well, Rook. Davrin: Assan will be happy to see you. (?): Yep. What they said. (?): I'll see you in a bit.

I wonder how the decision was made to remove this content. This is a scene where LI worries and cares about the player's character. No no no, let's cut it!

I mean, if it's in the localization file and translated into 11 languages, then it was most likely already voiced and implemented in the game.

[be-xkyy]

yandere cowboy x boss's daughter who is an innocent country girl and barely knows that the person she trusts most is the one she should fear most

Well, I have a few ideas coming to mind about this scenario but I'll pick one for now.

Tw: Yandere, violence, blood, breeding, dirty talk , naive reader.

Yandere cowboy who works for your father for a while now. He's one of his most trusted workers and your father isn't the type to trust many people.

He always does jobs here and there on the ranch helping to put up wire fences so cattle don't escape, looking for cattle when they enter other lands, threatening neighboring ranchers when they don't want to return cows or sheep.

In his defense, they deserve a bullet in the head for trying that shit with him.

But the job he likes the most is taking care of you, the beautiful and naive daughter of his boss. He simply fell in love with you since he saw you for the first time a few years ago.

You were all pretty behind your father in that flowery dress, cowboy boots, your braided hair... and how can we forget your cute tits.

Tits he thought about that same night as he masturbated, his calloused hand wrapped around his hard member as he rubbed vigorously imagining you looking up at him with your big eyes as you ride him your tits bouncing on his face it's so good he ends up cumming all over his hand.

You are indeed a pretty little thing all smiles and ignorant of the world and people's intentions. Raised and protected by your father kept under his wing for far too long after all you are his only daughter.

It's inevitable that he ends up threatening and beating to death your countless suitors who shamelessly approach you believing they have a chance, no fucking way will it happen. not on his watch.

He simply corners them away from your sight and beats them mercilessly, he gives them a hard punch his knuckles impact their nose with a loud crunch he doesn't stop as the man falls to the floor with a broken nose.

Of course not.

He beats them until his fists are bruised and the man's face is covered in blood with a broken nose, teeth knocked out and eyes swollen he grabs them by the collar of their shirts as he growls.

"Stay away from her or i assure you this will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you, buddy"

The one who tries to make himself as presentable as possible so you won't get suspicious when he comes back to you.

He knows everything he does is worth it when you show all worried for him grabbing his calloused hands in yours, looking at his bruised knuckles asking him if he's okay with that worried tone that makes his cock hard inside his pants.

He ends up asking you to "comfort" him a little like he taught you. You both end up in the barn with him leaning you on hay bales, his hands undoing his belt and zipper before pulling down his pants along with his boxers that get caught on his knees.

Then he lifts your dress as you whine about the hay stinging your ass, he just pats your thigh to shut you up as his fingers pull down your panties, he hisses when he sees your pussy he moves his thick fingers closer inspecting your wet entrance.

"God you're so wet, for someone who acts so sweet you're a bit of a slut aren't you doll?"

He arches an eyebrow when you shake your head shyly at his words murmuring an embarrassed "I'm not..." he lets out a laugh that rumbles from deep within his chest his thick fingers don't stop moving thrusting into your hot pussy your walls squeeze his fingers like hell.

He grabs his member unable to resist any longer he uses your wetness to lubricate his cock and slide inside you, both of you let out a moan of pleasure you from the delicious stretch and him from feeling your walls throb around him he murmurs.

"What a tight fucking pussy you have so hungry for my fat cock baby doll"

He moves his hips hard his heavy balls slap against your ass and his pubic hair scrapes deliciously against your pussy, your juices forming a creamy circle at the base of his cock as your nails dig into his muscled belly for support, his moans combined and the loud wet sound of his cock pounding into your pussy fills the barn.

"You're about to cum aren't you baby doll? Fuck–of course you're about to cum your pussy is getting so tight right now I think you want to rip my cock off"

His hands tighten their grip on your waist and you just mumble stupidly wrapping your legs tightly around his waist your boots dig into his ass as you cum letting out a high pitched moan your eyes roll back in your head from the intense pleasure, he growls thrusting into you hard chasing his own orgasm that doesn't take long to come.

With one last thrust he thrusts deep inside you, stopping his movements and letting his semen explode, flooding your interior with its swimmers. Who knows, maybe today will be the day when his seed finally takes root inside you. He would be the best father, the best husband and the best successor for your father. Your father will also see it that way. Because it would be a shame to have to kill him, after all, they are almost family, right..?

[ariahmichelle]

Phoning It In- Drew Starkey x actress/reader

Part 2

You sat in the brightly lit Elle magazine studio, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you reached into the bowl of folded slips of paper.

The Phoning It In segment was straightforward—draw a prank scenario, call one of your friends, and see how they react. You’d already done two ridiculous pranks, but when you unfolded your third prompt, your excitement kicked up a notch.

The slip read: “Say you’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind and want to put your acting career on hold for it.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” you said, laughing to the camera. “I’m calling Drew Starkey for this one. He’s going to lose his mind.”

Fans loved speculating about you and Drew. Your friendship had been under scrutiny for months, with fans pointing out how close you were off-screen. You’d both laughed it off in interviews, but recently, your feelings for Drew had started to shift. You’d been noticing his laugh a little more, catching yourself smiling at his texts for longer than usual. So this prank? It was the perfect opportunity to see how he’d react.

You dialed his number, nerves bubbling in your chest. After a few rings, Drew picked up.

“Hey, you,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “What’s up?

“Hey, Drew. Um… I need to talk to you about something,” you said, trying to sound hesitant.

“Oh no. This sounds serious. Did you finally get banned from craft services?”

“Drew, I’m being serious,” you said, injecting some urgency into your voice, while trying to contain your laughter.

“I just… I’ve been offered this opportunity, and I wanted to get your opinion”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “What kind of opportunity?”

You took a deep breath, setting the stage. “I’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind.”

There was a beat of silence before Drew burst out laughing. “Wait, wait, wait. Love Is Blind? You? Oh, this is rich. Are they doing a celebrity edition or something?”

“No, it’s the regular one,” you said, feigning seriousness. “They reached out to me, and I think it’s a sign. I mean, I’ve been so focused on my career—maybe it’s time I try something new, you know? Like, find my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? Through a pod?!” Drew was cackling now, but when you didn’t laugh along, he hesitated. “Wait… are you serious?”

“Yes, Drew!” you said, trying to sound exasperated. “I think this could be really good for me. But it means I’d have to take a break from Outer Banks for a while.”

“No. Nope. Absolutely not,” Drew said firmly, his tone more serious now. “You can’t leave Outer Banks. Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” you asked, pretending to sound defensive.

“Because, for one, you’re too talented to leave all of this behind for some reality show. And two…” He paused, his voice softening. “The show would be awful without you. Like, genuinely terrible. And if you’re gone, who’s going to keep me sane on set?”

“I’m sure you’d manage,” you said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Drew said, his voice growing more animated. “Okay, you know what? If it comes down to this, I’ll just marry you myself. Problem solved. No pods, no weird dates, and Outer Banks keeps you. Win-win.”

Your breath caught at his words. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Drew said, laughing but also sounding genuine. “If that’s what it takes to keep you from leaving, I’ll do it. You’re not leaving, alright? End of discussion.”

For a moment you have to mute yourself to let out a laugh while Drew continues to rant but then there’s a second of silence on the end of the line and the tone of his voice shifted slightly, quieter now. “I mean… I don’t want you to leave. I don’t think I could do this without you. Not just the show, but… everything.”

Your heart raced as Drew trailed off, his words heavy with something unspoken. You weren’t sure what’s happening but you definitely didnt want it caught on camera so you quickly unmute yourself and let out an exaggerated laugh, cutting through the tension. “Drew, oh my God! It’s a prank!”

“What?” he asked, clearly thrown off.

“I’m filming a segment for Elle,” you explained, laughing as you tried to compose yourself. “I had to prank-call someone, and you were the perfect target.”

“Are you kidding me?” Drew groaned, though you could hear him laughing on the other end. “You’re unbelievable. I just fake-proposed to you. You realize that, right?”

“Oh, I realize,” you teased. “And I’m definitely not letting you live it down.”

You’re evil,” Drew said, laughing along with you, though you could hear the tension still lingering beneath his words. “You seriously had me going. I was about to start drafting a petition to keep you on Outer Banks.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, your voice light. “But thanks for the marriage proposal. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to quit acting for real.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone playful again. “Remind me to prank you back when you least expect it.”

When the call ended, you turned to the camera with a big smile. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you successfully prank Drew Starkey. Bonus points for the fake marriage proposal.”

Later that evening, as you were heading home, your phone buzzed with a text from Drew.

Alright, you got me good. But seriously, don’t scare me like that again. I’d miss you too much. 😅 Also, come over later? I wanna talk about something.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the message. Whatever Drew wanted to talk about, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about the prank.

——————————

Let me know what u think? Requests are also open, check who I write for before requesting! 💗

[starmocha]

ok, imagine you have a nightmare about caleb exactly two months before his death. he happens to be staying with you, a day off just to say hi that turned into a sleepover. you find him at 3am, crawl into his bed, his lap, he's trying to soothe you, asking what happened but you're sobbing, playing a shaking hand over his chest just to feel his heart beating. he manages to calm you down, holding you close, letting you cry it out until he thought you were sleeping/ end part 1

ANON. EATING THIS UP. EATING THIS UP!!!!! nooo pls don’t ever apologize for that. I was so delighted to see the Caleb spam. They’re always welcome in my inbox :)))) Here. I wrote a little something, because I see Caleb and I’m weakened instantly 🥹 And if you haven’t already, pls check out my beloved @rose-tinted-kalopsia’s fic, baby, kiss it better. She wrote about Caleb comforting you after your nightmare. Literally in my top 5 fave LADS fics overall 💖💖💖💖💖

but stay with me

It was the most horrible sound you had ever heard. So godawful, it woke you up from that nightmare.

Still shaken, your fragile heart was racing, pumping erratically against your chest, your own breathing was just as irregular. The heavy panting was mixed with the choked back sobs, your emotions in complete turmoil as you tried to convinced yourself that everything you had just witnessed was not real. It was just a nightmare.

It took you a few extra minutes before it finally clicked in your head that your face was wet with tears. You wiped at your eyes furiously with the side of your arm, but it seemed to have only encouraged more tears to fall, your chest tightening with each painful breath taken.

It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

You repeated the mantra, a vain, pitiful attempt to calm yourself.

It was not real. It was just a nightmare.

Except, it wasn’t the boogeyman that scared you. It wasn’t the social anxiety of standing before a large crowd giving a speech while naked. It wasn’t even something like your dolls coming to life to murder you.

Those were all irrational figments of your imagination, concepts so exaggerated they had no place in reality.

But this.

It could very well happen. The world was scary enough to allow this to happen.

You closed your eyes.

You watched him turned his back on you, his hand on the door handle. He opened the door, entering without you, the door closing in your face. Just as you reached for the very same handle he had touched, there was an explosion that knocked you back, leaving you crumbled on the floor staring in confused abject horror as your grandmother’s house went up in flames, destroyed within a blink of an eye for seemingly no goddamn reason.

In just a few seconds, he was ripped out of your life.

In just a few seconds, he was stolen from you.

In just a few seconds, the boy who had promised to always be by your side was gone.

Caleb…Caleb…!

“Caleb!” you screamed out his name, no longer sure whether you were still within that nightmare or if you were awake, suffering from the lingering horrors you had witnessed, the cruel image now ingrained deeply in your mind like a stubborn weed you couldn’t kill, its roots strong and hardy going far deeper into the soil than you could ever reach.

Get out of your head, you scolded yourself firmly. Caleb is alive. He’s asleep in the living room.

It was such a nice day. Caleb had arrived in Linkon for a surprise visit from Skyhaven, managing to find time to slip away from the Deepspace Aviation Administration to see his favorite person in the world and celebrate her recent achievements at the Hunters Association. You both spent the day catching up, reminiscing as you both bumbled your way throughout the city, going from store to store, taking countless pictures to preserve the memory of the day, and laughed until your sides hurt and your cheeks sore from all of the smiles exchanged.

When you came home, Caleb made all of his signature dishes, spoiling you even when he was a guest in your home. It was just a habit he couldn’t break, one that he also showed no particular interest in rectifying. Like a summer breeze, Caleb brought warmth into your home, into your life. When Caleb was here, the world seemed just a bit gentler, a little safer, and you found your guard lowering, letting yourself drown in his familiar warmth.

Caleb was the very feeling of home, and he would always be home to you, encompassing all of the warm memories borne from the innocent years of growing up together.

You tried to steady your breathing once more. There was a hollowness in your eyes, your mind settling but still restless.

You wondered how such a perfect day gave way to the most horrific dream of your life.

Like a zombie, you left your bed, moving sluggishly down the halls to the living room with no clear thought in your head. You approached the couch, peering down at the figure asleep, curled up on that small sofa that could barely contain his large stature.

You stood next to the couch, staring down, breathing a little shaky again now that you are looking at him. He was there, asleep, where he should be.

You could see him clearly with your own eyes, but there was still a seed of doubt planted in your mind, a nagging voice trying to manipulate you, spreading lies in your head that he was just a figment of your imagination, that you were just in another layer of a dream.

You reached out, the pads of your fingers skimmed over his cheek, barely making contact, but perhaps there was still just enough of an electrifying touch to rouse Caleb from his deep slumber.

He stirred.

You quickly pulled your hand back, your breathing worsening. Before you could turn and retreat, Caleb called out to you in the darkness, his voice raspier than normal, still caught somewhere between dreaming and consciousness.

“Pipsqueak? What’s the matt—”

The words died at his lips, his perfect vision noticing instantly even in the darkness your puffy, red eyes. He immediately shoved the cover to the side, rushing to his feet as he gripped your arms, bent down to your height to thoroughly examine you.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt somewhere? Do you feel unwell?”

You sniffled, unable to answer the barrage of questions being hurled at you. When you try to speak, the fragments of your nightmare resurfaced, forming that awful image in your mind again. Unable to say anything, you threw your arms around his waist, the suddenness surprised Caleb into losing his balance and you both fell back onto the couch with you on top of him. Instinctively, Caleb’s arms wrapped around you, the familiar warmth of him was already easing your anxiety, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. You wanted more, needed more.

Needed him. Just so.

Your face pressed into his chest, his heart beating softly and you started to breathe easier again. His body heat spread to you, his gentle voice calling out once more.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers were under your chin, slowly lifting your head up so your eyes could meet. He sighed, disheartened, upon seeing just how red and swollen your eyes were. “What could have made the fearless Miss Hunter here so terrified that she cried until her eyes were so red and puffy?”

You recognized the faint teasing lilt in his voice, the same one he had used since childhood as a way to console you, to brighten your mood, and coax out whatever secrets you were keeping from him. It always worked, and you would confess to him about your fears, reveal the bullies who were tormenting you, or any worries that filled your little head, and Caleb would always come to the rescue and make the world right again.

This time, though, you did not want to tell him.

You quietly lowered your eyes, missing the instant hurt on Caleb’s face when you refused to speak to him.

An awkward silence started to creep into the room, but neither one of you spoke. You continued to withhold this nightmare from him, afraid that if you voice it out loud, something would get set in motion and what was once just a horrific dream would become an irreversible reality.

Caleb himself felt a little lost and suddenly helpless, a role he was unfamiliar with. He was always your protector, your confidant, and your companion, so to see you so terrified to the point that you couldn’t even speak to him made him question his own worth. He closed his eyes briefly, and exhaled, deciding that this silence had gone on long enough.

Easily, he scooped you into his arms, ignoring your surprised cries as he stood up and carried you back to your bed.

“Ca-Caleb?”

“It’s late,” he murmured, not looking down at you, “Let’s get you back into bed.”

You huffed and lightly beat at his chest with one small fist. “Caleb, I’m not a kid anymore,” you said, muttering softly, “You shouldn’t speak to me like that.”

You were lowered down into the soft mattress, and before Caleb could straighten, you grabbed at the front of his shirt, yanking him down until he fell on top of you in surprise.

“Pipsq—”

Your lips pressed to his, and Caleb was stunned into silence, his eyes widened in surprise. A million thoughts seemed to race through Caleb’s mind, and not one of them made sense or even tried to rationalize what was happening in this instance.

Your lips felt so warm and soft against his, and perhaps in a moment of weakness, he closed his eyes, returning the kiss, deepening it further, realizing that this was everything he had wanted for years. The line he had always wished to cross but hesitated was now gone. You were the first to cross to him, so how could he just refuse this moment? Refuse you?

Neither of you know how much time had passed, breaking apart only when you needed to breathe. Caleb’s hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head, his eyes locked with yours, both your cheeks flushed and your breathing labored.

“Caleb…you’re leaving soon…”

He looked confused, unsure of what was going through your head. You were behaving so abnormally tonight, so emotional and distressed, he was starting to go mad with worry, wanting to do anything to chase away the anxiety that was grappling you.

“Not for another three days,” he answered as calmly as he could, “I’m all yours until then, pipsqueak.”

“Will you be mine tonight?”

He stilled, his breathing stopping the moment he heard those words, wondering if maybe his hearing might have deceived him. It was a few seconds before he managed to find his voice, though as he spoke, it wasn’t even registering in his head that he was speaking to you, “What…did you say, pipsqueak?”

You looked up, blinking away the tears that still remained. You stared into his violet eyes, wishing to look into them forever. “I want you, Caleb…please…”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, his voice wavering enough that he wondered who he was trying to convince: you…or him?

You shook your head vehemently. “No…I am. I am, I am, I am, I am…!”

Your hands cupped his face, your voice steadied and assured. “This is the most lucid I’ve ever been.” As you stared into his questioning eyes, your heart dropped suddenly. There was an acute shift in your expression, reflecting your sudden mood change, and to others, it was subtle enough that no one would notice, but with Caleb, he was always aware of everything about you. He saw the shift, that flicker of fear in your eyes before you had blinked them away. Quietly, you asked, afraid of his answer, afraid of whatever truth awaited you in the next few seconds, “Or…do you not want me?”

Caleb’s eyes widened in shock, his heart stirring at hearing the anxiousness in your feeble voice. One large hand slipped under your head and you were pressed forward closer to him, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss, the depths of his feelings like a tidal wave sweeping away everything in its path.

“Fuck no,” he groaned, the rasp in his voice more prevalent than normal. “I…I’ve always wanted you. I’ll always want you.”

“Re…really?”

“Really.”

“Really, really?”

“Really, really.”

His breathing stuttered, his eyes flickering from your own, a mix of fear and yearning in your gaze, to your lips, trembling and waiting. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he leaned down closer, the warmth of his breath caressed against your lips as he spoke, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you answered.

“One last chanc—”

You kissed him, swallowing that last word. He instantly submitted to you, his kisses ravenous as if a dam had just been broken, and now there was nothing holding back his own feelings. As you kissed him, gasping in between, your hands fumbled against his clothes, tugging at his t-shirt. He let you guide him, the shirt slipping off and revealing his toned torso.

You didn’t have long to appreciate them before you realized his own hands were on the waistband of your shorts, giving an experimental tug down. He shifted his gaze to you, waiting, and you nodded. He smirked and made quick work of discarding your bottoms, his breathing growing heavier now that the only thing left were the light pink cotton panties you wore.

“Caleb…” your lips found his again, pulling him back to you. As you two kissed, his lips trailing all over, marking you up in ways you had never dreamed about before. You gasped, arching up into him when you felt his bulge brushing over your core, the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms not enough of a barrier between the two of you.

The way he was breathing so heavily, his pants making you more aroused than you could have ever realized. One large hand slipped under your shirt, easily covering your entire breast. You whined when that same callous hand circled your breast, his fingers finding your nipple to pinch and play with until it firmed under his touch. You fidgeted against him, whining softly at his teasing treatment.

“Are you always this sensitive?” he asked, gazing down in amusement at your flushed cheeks. He laughed softly when you lightly glared at him. His voice lowered, his mouth so close to your right ear that when he spoke, you could feel butterflies fluttering in your belly. “Or is it…only for me?”

He kissed your neck soundly, the warmth of his lips still lingered even when he pulled back, his smoldering violet eyes gazing down at you with such desires, you quickly forgotten your frustration with him. His hands skimmed down your body, resting on your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the waistband of your panties. There was still some hesitancy left in him, as if he was afraid that once he crossed this line with you, things would never be like before.

You guided his fingers, letting more of the fabric slip lower and lower, his breathing the only sound heard in the stillness of your bedroom. Once he had slipped the garment off, it seemed like everything moved much faster, the restraints that held both of you back gone in that instance as you both succumbed to the once dormant desires within both of you.

“Ah…Caleb…!” You gasped as he grabbed your thighs, spreading you more. His hardened member pressed against your slick folds, the tip slipping in and you moaned as you took him in slowly. Your thoughts raced as you realized that not only was this happening, but Caleb was much bigger than you could have anticipated. Your belly tightened, body tensing as more of his large length filled you.

He kept you spread, his body leaning forward, the barely-contained groans filling your ears. “So fucking tight,” he rasped, “Fuck, you feel so…so good…better than I could…could have…imagined…”

Your chest heaved, the feverish expression you wore betrayed your feelings, showing him that his words barely registered in your head as all you could do was focus on the feel of him filling you so gloriously. He hummed happily as he leaned down and kissed your lips, giving one final thrust to fill you, your startled gasp swallowed by him as he continued to ravage your lips as he let you get used to the feel of him buried deep inside you.

“Ah…Ca…Caleb…” you whimpered his name in between kisses, your hips rolling against his.

Understanding your need, Caleb slowly pulled out before he thrusted back in, your moans more heavenly than he could have ever thought, and now that he had a taste of the once forbidden fruit, he knew he could never give you up even if he wanted to. Once he was sure you were enjoying yourself, he found a pace that was pleasurable for the both of you, letting go of all the previous hesitancy and yielding completely to this moment of passion.

With every movement, every burning touch, you moaned his name, begging and pleading with him for more, to take you harder, make you his completely. You had said his name so many times before, in so many different tones and with so many moods accompanying them, but he had never heard his name uttered in such a sweet, lascivious way as this with that pretty voice of yours spilling such perverted words. He could get addicted to this, wanting to greedily covet all of these sweet sounds for himself.

His length reached deeply inside you, hitting that sweet spot that had you arching into him, clenching around him. He groaned into your neck, his voice hoarse with desires. “Whatever you want,” he murmured, his voice so soft and lazy, it was almost like you were getting intoxicated by him, “I will give you.”

“Ca…Caleb…”

“Hmm…” He kissed you again, long and slow, savoring your lips and this moment for as long as he could. “I will never stop spoiling you,” he whispered, nipping your bottom lip. His forehead pressed to yours, and another roll of his hips had you arching into him, arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder, crying softly. He gripped your legs on either side of him, pulling you closer to him as he shushed you gently. “You’re so close, baby,” he continued in that same leisure tone, his own groans of pleasure mixed in between his words, “Are you going to cum for me soon?”

“Ye…yes…”

“Yes what?” He was teasing you again, wanting to rile you up. He kissed along your neck once more, his sinfully sweet voice coaxing you closer to the edge. “Tell me. Say it with that pretty voice of yours.”

“Cale…Caleb…”

He hummed again, waiting. He pressed a kiss along your shoulder, his movements quickening to meet your needs.

“Oh god, Caleb!” You gripped him tighter, feeling every deep, hard thrust. You whimpered as he gripped your chin, keep your face close to his.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded, a lecherous smirk on his handsome face. “I want to see what you look like cumming on my cock.”

Oh, fuck.

At those perverted words, the long building climax came crashing, your body pulsing with pleasure as you cried out his name with such ecstasy. The sight of you beneath him, shaking in pleasure, lost in a blissful state of euphoria stole his breath away as he chased after his own climax, driving into you over and over again with reckless abandon.

You whimpered, his forearms suddenly resting on either side of you, keeping you completely trapped beneath him as he continued to penetrate you so deeply with quickened movements. His intense kisses assaulted your lips before his hips stuttered and suddenly, he was emptying into you, filling you with ropes of his seed.

“F-fuck…” he panted, his weight heavy on you. For what seemed like several minutes, you both stayed like this, feeling the aftershocks of your climaxes still coursing through your spent bodies. You could feel Caleb’s lazy kisses trailing along your neck, his lips finding your temple. He spoke first, voice soft and gentle, “Are you alright?”

You nodded tiredly, and he smiled.

He pulled out of you, breathing shuddering as his eyes took in the erotic sight of his cum dripping lewdly from your cunt. He didn’t say anything, but this was having more of an arousing effect on him than he could have realized. He swallowed and quickly looked up, meeting your satiated gaze. His expression softened, pleased to see you were in a calmer state now compared to earlier.

He settled down in bed, pulling you into his embrace. You arm draped over his chest as you both basked in the afterglow. The silence that followed was more comfortable this time as both your breathing slowed in time together.

Your eyes drifted close while Caleb ran his fingers through your hair, a troubled expression passed his features suddenly, almost as if he was unsure whether or not he should ruin this mood with the question lingering in his mind.

He didn’t want things to just get swept away, to be forgotten just like that, especially not when he knew you were in such pain before, and he doubted you were completely fine now. Whether this was a good decision or not, Caleb needed to at least try and break through this new barrier you had put up tonight. So, he asked: “Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?”

You stayed completely still in his arms, not moving or reacting in any way. You could sense Caleb’s intense stare, but he was patient as he waited for you to answer his sudden question.

You could still hear the explosion, the crackling of flames left in its wake. The heat was so unbearable, scorching like the fires of Hell itself.

You burrowed into Caleb’s embrace, shaking your head silently as you held him just a bit tighter, the squeeze a gentle reminder that he was still here, still in your arms.

He was safe.

He was safe in your arms.

And he was warm and real and here and yours.

“Alright,” Caleb whispered, his lips pressed to the top of your head. “I’ll be here if you ever want to tell me.”

Your voice sounded so small and helpless, as if you were a child again chasing after him. “You’ll be here?”

He smiled. “Even if I am away, I will always find my way home to you,” he said, his resolve strong. “From Skyhaven or wherever else, I will always return to you no matter the distance.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he answered, not missing a beat. Still seeing the worried creases on your face, Caleb rubbed your cheek affectionately, asking with a tinge of teasing in his voice, “Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

And you smiled for the first time that night, because no, he never had.

And he never will.

[pseudonymousposting]

I used to read and retain very well. Now, if I look at a lot of text, all I see is a big wall of fuck symbols that blend together and mean nothing so to be fair maybe a huge amount of us are worn out and can't parse information anymore.

But also important systems (like education) collapsing is part of the process of a civilization dying and, often, literacy plummets quickly.

This is partially because of the powerful neglect or purposely undercut these systems. This can be for personal gain, to suppress dissenting elements, to narrow the scope of whom they empower to their supporters, because they don't want to do so, because they are incompetent, because the system can not maintain itself anymore or any other number of reasons.

It's also partially because people are just trying their best to survive and don't have time to learn nor teach their children. This is something you'll note if you listen to elementary school teachers, who were iirc coming forward in droves with chilling tales of children coming into school having not reached some important prerequisite milestones for some of what they needed to include in their curriculum.

Early literacy was part of this phenomena, and there was plenty of drivel from parents blaming teachers, teachers blaming parents. Thank goodness, there was a number of people pointing at the problem: we are systemically fucked right now, and what it would take to fix the issue would look like a societal upheaval.

Here's the thing. The teachers have a lot of material to cover and a short time to do so. Taking extra time to literally teach children to read at a beginner level, a skill they should have at least begun to grasp before getting to school. This is a huge setback that costs heavily in the long term. It is expected that children are taught these things. This is NOT the teacher's fault. Their job is not to raise your children for you.

The activities that teach the skill have been considered standard fare, bare-minimum parenting activity, and, really, one of those parts of parenting in which you're supposed to look forward to participating. There are very few things more exciting to witness than a child you deeply love read their first book entirely unassisted.

It's one of those moments where you struggle hiding your tears because you're not sure if it's too early to explain what it means to cry out of sheer pride and love for another person. If you remember the first time reading a book on your own in front of an adult who loved you, note this may have been happening in their mind without your knowledge.

This is not a moment the parents are avoiding or too lazy to work toward. Quite the contrary; they are being deprived of it. People need to work toward feed their children. The hours they need to work to make that happen is rising, and the employers are becoming more and more brazen about how exploitative they're willing to be.

Hours get longer, pay stays the same, the pockets of billionaires grow evermore overstuffed with incomprehensible wealth, while the parents of hungry children struggle to make ends meet. When they do have time home, they're dead tired.

What I'm saying is, as usual, our economic system is becoming the failing nightmare it was intended to be in the first place, and the answer to this growing and worrying problem is to address that. Easier said than done, playing against a deck stacked against exactly the kind of person suffering the natural effects of a shit ass system such as this.

https://x.com/StrangerJosh11/status/1856410822983201030

It’s dire out here

Huston we have a problem

[mephisto-reporting]

The Engineer's Gravity - Yandere! Caleb

Plot: You're a biomechanical engineer in Caleb's fleet, incharge of repairs of prosthetic parts. What happens when you become the subject of the Colonel's obsession? Based on this request. Pairing: Non MC Mechanic! Reader x Yandere! Caleb Note: This story is with slightly darker themes. I do not want people to come at me saying Caleb isn't like this. Yes, I know. This is a Yandere! version of Caleb. Please keep that in mind. If you want to be a part of my taglist, please let me know in the comments, DMs or inbox. Content warning: Yandere male, implied deaths, mutilation, mentions of blood, possessiveness, gaslighting, voilence

CALEB'S POV

The faint hum of the Farspace fleet’s engines was a constant background noise, a rhythm that Caleb had grown accustomed to. It filled the silence as he walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the engineering bay, his gloved left hand flexing instinctively while his right hand remained eerily still. It wasn’t the arm itself that unnerved him anymore. No, he’d gotten used to the weight, the cool touch of the synthetic skin against his chest when he rested his hand there. What grated on him was the maintenance—the vulnerability of needing someone else to keep it functional.

The first time he’d come to the mechanic for maintenance, he had been indifferent, as he was to most things in his life. The arm was a tool, no more. Just another part of the machine that was Caleb, the Colonel. She was just another cog in the vast machine of the fleet, a means to an end. He barely remembered their first meeting beyond her clinical efficiency and soft voice, far removed from the barked commands of his officers or the detached drone of his superiors. She’d introduced herself simply, a name he didn’t bother committing to memory at the time, and had begun her work without wasting a second.

He’d sat in silence, his arm stretched out on the diagnostic table, his gaze fixed on the wall as she meticulously checked the connections and replaced worn components. She’d asked him questions—about the arm’s performance, any discomfort he’d noticed—but he’d only answered in monosyllables. He wasn’t trying to be rude; he just didn’t see the point.

She had been… different.

No. She spoke with compassion, with a voice that held an undercurrent of something human. When she’d first touched his arm to inspect it, there was no clinical detachment in her touch—no cold professionalism. Instead, there was a softness, a care.

But she kept showing up, week after week, her presence a constant thread in his routine. She didn’t just maintain his arm; she paid attention. She noticed when he was tense and adjusted her tone accordingly. When she worked, she hummed under her breath—a tune he couldn’t place but found oddly soothing. And unlike the professor who saw him as little more than a prototype for their next experiment, she treated him like a person.

Caleb first noticed it when she spoke to the other fleet members. The soldiers and officers with Toring chips embedded in their bodies, their minds augmented for efficiency but stripped of their individuality, were often treated as tools. Most of the crew barely acknowledged them, but she… she smiled at them. Asked about their day. Made sure they were comfortable during her examinations and modifications.

It wasn’t long before Caleb began to see her differently.

Their interactions changed subtly over time. He found himself lingering in the engineering bay longer than necessary, watching her work under the sharp white lights. She was focused, hands deft as they manipulated wires and micro-tools, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re due for recalibration next week, Colonel.” she said during one session, not looking up from the neural interface she was fine-tuning.

“I’ll be here,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “You’re good at this.”

She glanced at him, surprised. “I’ve had a lot of practice.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not just the work. The way you… treat people. You’re good at that, too.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might dismiss the comment. But instead, she smiled—a soft, genuine thing that made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter.” she said simply, turning back to his arm.

He didn’t respond, but those words stayed with him long after he left the bay. Caleb watched her closely, taking note of every smile, every laugh, every time she showed kindness to someone else. It made something dark curl in his chest.

The first time Caleb intervened on her behalf, it was almost instinctual.

He was passing through the mess hall when he heard the sharp edge of Lieutenant Varro’s voice. “You know, for all your compassion, you take forever with repairs. Maybe stop coddling the freaks and do your job faster.”

Caleb froze, his blood turning cold. He rounded the corner to see Varro towering over her, his expression smug. She was holding a tray of food, her shoulders tense but her expression calm as she replied, “I do my job thoroughly, Lieutenant. If you’re unhappy with my work, you can file a complaint.”

Caleb’s steps faltered, his jaw tightening. A cold, simmering rage filled him as he turned to look at the man. He wanted to snap his neck right then and there, but he couldn’t let her see this side of him. Not yet.

So he smiled instead. A cold, calculating smile that sent a chill down Varro’s spine.

“Lieutenant,” Caleb said, his tone deceptively calm. “A word.”

Later that night, Varro didn’t return to his quarters. Whispers spread through the fleet about an "incident" during a routine maintenance check. Caleb made sure it looked like an accident—a malfunction in Varro's own bionic enhancements. No one questioned it, least of all her.

She remained blissfully unaware of the lengths Caleb went to for her.

As the days turned into weeks, Caleb’s obsession deepened. He found himself lingering in her workshop longer than necessary, watching her every move. She would smile at him, her eyes warm and kind, and Caleb would feel something he hadn’t felt since he left home for the DAA. A strange, aching need to keep her close.

“You know,” she said one day, her voice light, “you don’t always have to come here for repairs. You can just... visit, if you want.”

Caleb froze, his gaze locking onto hers. Did she know? Had she figured out how much he craved her presence? But her smile was so genuine, so innocent, that he realized she didn’t suspect a thing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady.

He told her about his family one evening, when the workshop was quiet and the rest of the fleet was asleep. He spoke of the girl he had grown up with, her fiery spirit, and the way she had  carved a place for herself in Linkon.

“She is strong…” Caleb said, his voice low. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

She listened intently, her expression soft. “You must miss her.” she said gently.

Caleb hesitated. Did he? The memory of that girl felt distant, overshadowed by the woman sitting in front of him.

“I don’t think about her much anymore.” he admitted. “There are... other things on my mind.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press.

But Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about the way her hands moved over his arm, the way her laughter echoed in the workshop, the way she seemed to light up the cold, sterile corridors of the fleet.

And when he saw other officers talking to her, laughing with her, something in him snapped. He didn’t like the way they looked at her. He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to her.

Caleb began to manipulate things behind the scenes, ensuring that no one spent too much time with her. He assigned officers to tasks that kept them far away from her workshop. He spread subtle rumors, casting doubt on the intentions of anyone who showed too much interest in her.

She never noticed. She never questioned why the workshop seemed quieter, why fewer people came to her for help.

And Caleb made sure it stayed that way. In the privacy of his quarters, Caleb would sit in the dim light, his bionic hand flexing involuntarily as he thought about her. She was his. She didn’t know it yet, but she belonged to him.

And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her close.

Even if it meant destroying anyone who stood in his way.

YOUR POV

Lately, you’d noticed something strange.

The crew didn’t treat you the way they used to. At first, it was subtle—an officer averting his gaze when you greeted him in the corridor, a technician hurriedly ending a conversation when you approached. Then it became more blatant. People gave you a wide berth in the cafeteria, whispers died the moment you entered a room, and the occasional sidelong glances you caught were laced with something unspoken.

Fear.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always prided yourself on being approachable, on treating everyone with the respect they deserved. Sure, your work was demanding, and your position as the fleet’s biomechanical engineer meant you often had to be firm when it came to protocols, but you weren’t cruel. Far from it. You treated the crew like people, not machines.

But now? It was as though you carried some invisible aura that screamed danger.

And then there were the... incidents.

The first time, you brushed it off as coincidence. Lieutenant Gregor had been reassigned to another fleet without warning, just days after he’d mocked you during a team briefing. You’d chalked it up to bad luck or his own poor behavior catching up to him.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Officers and fleet members who dismissed your concerns, who snapped at you during high-stress missions, who made snide comments about your methods—they all disappeared. Some were reassigned to far-off posts, others were suddenly discharged for disciplinary reasons, and a few even suffered freak accidents that left them unfit for duty.

The pattern was impossible to ignore.

The only constant in all of this was the Colonel.

Or just Caleb, as he’d asked you to call him when it was just the two of you.

“Colonel” felt too formal, too distant, he’d said one evening as you adjusted the fine motor controls on his bionic hand. He’d leaned back in the chair, watching you with an intensity that made you feel both self-conscious and oddly comforted.

“Just Caleb,” he’d said, his voice softer than usual. “When we’re alone.”

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Over the past few months, he’d become a steady presence in your life, someone you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

And lately, he seemed to be around you more than ever.

It wasn’t just during maintenance sessions anymore. He’d stop by your workshop for no apparent reason, lingering by your workbench as you tinkered with your tools. He’d accompany you on supply runs, his tall frame a protective shadow at your side. When the fleet docked at Skyhaven for shore leave, he invited you to join him for coffee or walks through the market district. He’d cook for you and bring you meals to your residence in Skyhaven, unprompted.

It felt... nice.

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. Caleb had a dry sense of humor that never failed to catch you off guard, and there was a steadiness to him that you found grounding. Still, there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The way he always seemed to know when someone had upset you. The way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, as if he were memorizing every detail. The way his voice dropped when he said your name, like it was a secret only he was allowed to keep.

You tried to push the thoughts aside. Caleb was your superior, your colonel. He’d never given you any reason to distrust him. And yet...

One evening, as you recalibrated the sensory feedback in his arm, you decided to bring it up.

“Have you noticed how people have been acting lately?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you adjusted a tiny screw. “It’s like they think I’m some kind of... I don’t know, threat or something.”

You glanced up at Caleb, expecting him to shrug it off with one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, his body tensed, just for a moment. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you might have missed it.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“It’s just a feeling.” you said, turning back to his arm. “People avoiding me, whispering when they think I can’t hear. And then there are the reassignment orders. It’s like anyone who crosses me is... gone.”

There was a long pause.

“It’s nothing.” Caleb said finally. “Tensions have been high since the last Deepspace tunnel exploration. People are on edge.”

You frowned but didn’t press the issue. Maybe he was right. The fleet had been through a lot recently, and stress had a way of making people act strangely. Still, something about his explanation didn’t sit right with you.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “That makes sense.”

But it didn’t. Not entirely.

Still, you knew better than to poke your nose where it didn’t belong. You’d learned long ago that asking too many questions could lead to trouble, and trouble was the last thing you needed.

So you stayed in your lane, focusing on your work and pretending not to notice the way Caleb’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of your life. You told yourself it was fine, that his increased attention was nothing to worry about. After all, you trusted Caleb. He’d always been kind to you, always treated you with respect. And if his gaze lingered a little too long, if his touch was a little too gentle when he handed you a tool, if his smile held a hint of something darker—you ignored it.

Because Caleb was the only person who hadn’t changed. The only person who still treated you like... you.

The ship was silent at night, the hum of its engines a low, constant thrum beneath your feet as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. You’d been restless, the bitter taste of Lieutenant Reese’s words still fresh in your mind. The new Lieutenant had been transferred to Caleb’s fleet three weeks ago and was already causing tensions within the hierarchy of how things ran in the fleet.

“Guess even engineers need quotas filled, huh? They really let anyone take up space on this ship these days,” he had sneered during a systems check earlier. “Bet you’ve only kept this position because someone up high likes the way you look.”

His smirk had twisted into something crueler as he leaned closer. “Face it. You’re not here because you’re good—you’re here because you’re convenient.”

The humiliation burned as much now as it had then. You clenched your fists at the memory, your footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. You’d worked too hard, poured too much of yourself into your work, to have it dismissed so callously. And yet, his words lingered like a stain, refusing to be scrubbed away.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the sound.

A muffled grunt. A crash.

And then—a sickening crunch.

You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, to return to your quarters and pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But your curiosity—or perhaps some misplaced sense of duty—compelled you forward. Quietly, you padded down the corridor, following the noise until you reached a maintenance bay.

What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

Caleb stood over Lieutenant Reese, who was slumped against the wall, blood smeared across his face. The lieutenant’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his body trembling as he let out a pained whimper. Caleb’s hand was clamped tightly around Reese’s throat, his grip firm but not enough to choke.

Not yet.

“You thought you could get away with it?” Caleb said, his voice low and steady, each word laced with venom. “Insulting her. Undermining her. Disrespecting her.”

Reese tried to stammer out a response, but Caleb’s hand tightened, silencing him.

“You signed your life away the moment you opened your mouth.” Caleb continued, his tone almost conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a supply requisition. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever be. Do you even understand that?”

Reese’s legs kicked weakly, his breaths ragged. Caleb tilted his head, his expression shifting from cold fury to mild disappointment.

“Pathetic!” he muttered, releasing the lieutenant’s throat. Reese crumpled to the ground, wheezing and coughing. Caleb watched him for a moment, then raised his foot and brought it down sharply on Reese’s hand. The sound of bones breaking echoed in the bay.

The lieutenant went limp, his body a lifeless heap. Caleb crouched beside him, his expression one of disdain. “Weak,” he said, his voice barely audible.

And then he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the air thick with tension. Caleb’s expression shifted from cold to shocked in the blink of an eye, but his eyes—the ones that had always been so warm towards you—now seemed empty, calculating.

He stood still for a moment, then took a step toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His voice was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

“Don’t be scared,” Caleb said softly, though there was an edge to his words. “I’m just protecting you. I would never let anyone hurt you, never.”

Your mind raced, your pulse quickening. You’d seen this side of Caleb before—quiet, intense, protective—but this? This was something else. He was different.

“Protected me?” you repeated, your heart pounding. “From what?”

“From him,” Caleb replied, gesturing to Reese’s motionless form. “He disrespected you. He questioned your worth. He hurt you.”

His gaze softened, and he took another step closer. “I won’t allow that. Not from him. Not from anyone.”

“This—this isn’t right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” Caleb interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I will. You may not see it now, but this is what’s necessary.”

You stared at him, searching for any hint of remorse, but there was none. Only conviction.

“I’ll always protect you.” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Even when you think you don’t need it. Even when you don’t understand why.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. But even as you tried to process what you’d seen and heard, a cold realization settled over you.

He closed the distance between you, his steps soft but purposeful, until he was standing right in front of you. His face was close, too close, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been through so much,” he continued, his voice soothing, almost affectionate. “You don’t need to worry about the people who don’t understand you. I’ll always protect you.” He repeats. “Even when you don’t ask for it.”

You swallowed; your throat dry. You should have been afraid, terrified even. But you weren’t. A part of you was frozen, caught in the web of his words, of his gaze. He was so sure of himself, so confident, and it was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that.

His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re mine,” Caleb whispered, his words not a command but a promise. “No one will ever take you from me. Not ever.”

You should have questioned it, should have asked him what he meant, why he was doing this. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, you realized you couldn’t escape.

Not really.

You knew who Caleb was. You knew what he was capable of. And you knew that the resources of the Farspace Fleet, the professor, and Caleb’s power meant there was no running, no hiding from him. You’d seen what happened to those who crossed you. And now, you didn’t doubt for a second that Caleb was behind it.

But what unnerved you most was the way he looked at you now. Not with malice, not with cruelty, but with something softer. Something almost tender.

“Stay.” he said, his voice coaxing. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there. And yet... you nodded.

Because deep down, you knew he was right about one thing.

Caleb would never hurt you.

As long as you stayed.

He would never let anyone touch you. He would never let anyone harm you.

You were his, and he was yours.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood there, the weight of his gaze heavy on you.

And as Caleb stepped back, his eyes softening, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips, you knew one thing for certain: you were far past the point of no return.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

PART 16 BACK TO PAST MEMORIES

The afternoon had been a whirlwind—full of surprises, chaos, and more surprises. So, when Carlos and Matheo stepped out of the hotel lobby together, both dressed in formal attire, Carlos couldn't help but feel a little on edge. 

“Matheo…” Carlos tilted his head, tugging at the stiff collar of his shirt as he eyed his son. “There have been ‘way’ too many surprises today. Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” 

Matheo grin was as mischievous as ever. “I already told you, Dad—it’s a surprise.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes dramatically. “All right, I wish I am not about to get struck by lightning or something.” 

As they walked towards the entrance of the hotel, Carlos caught sight of Y/N, who was walking out with Mattia. Both were impeccably dressed, though Carlos’s gaze naturally lingered on the Y/N longer than he’d admit. 

The twins exchanged a knowing glance, the kind of secretive look that sent chills down a parent’s spine. Carlos sighed deeply. “This doesn’t feel like it’s going to end well.” 

Y/N approached him, smoothing down her dress. “Hey… any idea what the kids are up to?” 

Carlos shook his head. “No clue. Matheo won’t tell me a thing.” 

Y/N nodded “I see.”

The limo ride that followed was short, yet somehow stretched an eternity in awkward anticipation. Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Y/N were being set up. By the time they arrived at a port, the confusion on their faces was mutual. 

“Kids…” Carlos stared at the waterfront with raised eyebrows. “Is this where we’re eating?” 

Mattia smirked. “Nope!” 

Matheo pointed towards the dock, where a stunning yacht was illuminated against the evening sky. “That’s where we’re going to have dinner.” 

Carlos’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “The yacht? You’re joking.” 

But they weren’t joking. 

The group made their way onto the boat, Carlos firing questions as quickly as his brain could process what was happening. “Matheo, how exactly are we paying for this?” 

“We gave all our savings,” Matheo said, his tone suspiciously nonchalant. 

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, Theo. Try again.” 

“Well… I call Grandpa Sainz yesterday, he have helped a ‘little’ bit,” Matheo admitted sheepishly. 

“Matheo,” Carlos said, gave his son a pointed look. 

Matheo grinned up at him. “What? It helped a lot.” 

Mattia quickly interjected, tugging on Y/N’s dress. “Come on, Mom. You’re going to love this.” 

The families was ushered inside the yacht, where they stopped at an elegant door. Matheo turned to them with a grin so wide it practically screamed trouble. “Mrs. Y/LN, Mr. Sainz… your dinner is served.” 

The door swung open, revealing a beautifully set table in the middle of the room. Flowers and candles decorated the space, their soft glow reflected in the surrounding windows that overlooked the water. Y/N gasped quietly, clearly impressed by the romantic setup, while Carlos scanned the scene, his eyes narrowing. 

“Uh… kids? There are only two chairs,” he pointed out, gesturing at the table. 

Matheo’s face lit up. “Exactly! That’s part two of the surprise. We’re ‘not’ having dinner with you!” 

Y/N laughed nervously, trying to mask her growing unease. “Oh? And who will be joining us then?” 

Right on cue, Chessy appeared, stepping into the room in an immaculately with a chef form. “Good evening,” she announced, a sly smile playing on her lips. “My name is Chessy, and I’ll be your assistant tonight. Comments, questions, and complaints? Not accepted.” 

Behind her, Martin entered, holding a bottle of wine with an almost angelic smile. “And I, Martin, will be your sommelier this evening. Let’s hope you drink just enough to forget that these two troublemakers roped us into this.” 

Carlos blinked. “Wait. You’re the staff tonight?” 

Chessy shrugged, clearly unfazed by the question. “Mattia, music please.” 

Mattia darted to the corner of the room, hitting play on a small speaker. A soft, romantic ballad filled the space, the melody blending perfectly with the gentle rocking of the yacht. 

“Relax,” Mattia said, his voice brimming with excitement. “Sail through time!” 

“And enjoy the evening,” Matheo added with a dramatic wave of his hand. 

The twins turned to leave, practically skipping out of the room. Y/N and Carlos exchanged hesitant glances, neither daring to speak as the reality of the situation sank in. 

“Well,” Y/N said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… weird.” 

Carlos groaned, slumping into one of the chairs. “Remind me to ground those two when this is over.” 

But as the soft music played and Martin poured the wine, Carlos couldn’t help but crack a smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chessy watched as the children disappeared from sight, their laughter fading into the distance. She turned to her companions, her brow furrowed. “Have you seen the evil plan?” she asked, her tone suspicious but tinged with humor.

Y/N adjusted the black-colored scarf around her neck, the gesture betraying her nervousness. “Yes, yes,” she muttered, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m starting to understand what’s happening.”

Carlos glanced around, his eyes landing on a lifebuoy decorated with a familiar name. A flicker of recognition crossed his face. “It’s just like when we first met,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “The boat, the music...”

“The service,” Chessy added with a smirk.

Y/N, ever the romantic, took in the scene with sincere appreciation. “Everything is... very beautiful,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos turned to Martin with a playful grin. “Martin, would you please accept a drink?” he asked, gesturing toward the bar.

Martin and chessy shared a knowing smile as they obediently took their drinks. Martin gave Chessy a subtle signal, and the two of them quietly slipped away, leaving Carlos and Y/N alone.

As the soft hum of the waves provided a serene backdrop, Carlos leaned against the balcony of the boat. He hesitated for a moment before confessing, “To be honest, I haven’t been on a boat since that time.”

Y/N joined him at the railing, their shoulders almost brushing. “Me neither,” she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability. He avoided Carlos’s gaze, focusing instead on the horizon. But Carlos wasn’t one to shy away. Raising his glass, he proposed, “Well, then, here’s to, uh…”

“Our son,” Y/N interjected quickly, finally meeting Carlos’s eyes.

The sincerity in her voice made Carlos pause, his own glass hovering mid-air. “Our son,” Carlos repeated, clinking his glass against Y/N’s. A small, almost imperceptible smile graced his lips, though it looked more like a grimace born of mixed emotions.

Their moment of connection was abruptly interrupted when Carlos caught sight of their children peeking through the small windows of the cabin doors. As soon as they realized they’d been discovered, the kids ducked out of sight with impressive speed.

Gathering his courage, Carlos turned to face her fully. “Y/N... if we can ever be completely alone, I’d like to talk about what happened between us. Because it ended so quickly.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though a flicker of hesitation lingered. “It started very fast,” she replied, her tone layered with meaning.

Carlos’s signature charming smile returned. “I remember that part very well,” he teased.

Y/N’s lips curved into a small smile, betraying her own memories of their whirlwind beginning.

Meanwhile, Chessy and Martin, who were spying discreetly from a corner, exchanged satisfied glances. “It seems like everything is going well,” Chessy commented, her tone light.

“I think the same,” Martin replied, his eyes still fixed on the couple.

She motioned toward the kitchen. “Come on, we have to serve the appetizers.”

Martin nodded, momentarily flustered by Chessy’s charm. “O-of course,” he stammered, following her.

Back at the table, Y/N and Carlos settled into their seats. Y/N broke the silence first. “So, tell me, Carlos. You’ve done very well in life, haven’t you?” she gestured to the wine bottle. “Your brand is on the rise every day.”

Carlos adjusted his napkin, his expression modest. “And you? I remember your notebooks full of amazing designs. Have you been able to pursue that?”

Y/N smiled, clearly touched that Carlos remembered. “Yes, that’s right. We both fulfilled our dreams, didn’t we?”

Chessy entered with two plates in hand, interrupting the moment. As she set the meals down, Y/N’s mind wandered back to their children. “What are we going to do with them?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Carlos sighed, his fingers tapping against the table. “Well, the two of them have already met. It’ll be impossible to separate them now.”

Y/N pondered for a moment. “I could stay with them for half a year, and you for the other half,” she suggested tentatively.

Chessy, still lingering nearby, shook her head. “Hey... kids can’t go to different schools every year. It wouldn’t make sense.”

Carlos nodded in agreement. “You’re right.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she tried to come up with a solution. “Well, I could take them for a full year, and you the next?”

Chessy’s disapproval was evident. “Still not a great idea,” she said bluntly.

Carlos glanced at her, then back at Y/N. Realizing the tension, Chessy quickly excused herself. “Oh... sorry, I’m leaving.”

Y/N couldn't help but let a soft chuckle escape, amused by the small slip-up that had just happened. It was one of those moments that lightened the tension, if only briefly.

"Anyway," Carlos began, attempting to steer the conversation back on track, "that’s why we had our previous agreement."

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression equal parts curious and doubtful. "Really? I thought it was because... well, because we didn’t want to be together anymore."

Carlos shifted in his seat, biting his lip as though the memory still stung. "No," he admitted quietly, "it wasn’t both of us."

Y/N leaned back slightly, folding her arms in front of him. "Well," she said, her voice laced with a mix of reflection and mild defensiveness, "that part has gotten a little fuzzy over the years."

Carlos tilted his head, as if deciding how much to push. "Do you remember the day you packed your things?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Y/N hesitated, her brow furrowing in thought. "Yes... but I don’t remember everything about it. I think I hurt you with something I did... that was..." She trailed off, struggling to grasp the specifics.

Carlos’ lips quirked into a bittersweet smile as he helped jog Y/N’ memory. "You threw a plant at me," he reminded her.

Y/N’ cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she let out a self-conscious laugh. "True," she admitted, rubbing her dress. The memory, though distant, still carried a pang of awkwardness.

Carlos leaned forward slightly, his voice softening as he tried to tread carefully. "Y/N, maybe we’ll never have the chance to truly be alone, but I’d really like to talk about what happened between us. Honestly."

Y/N’ gaze sharpened as she rested her chin on her folded hands, giving Carlos her full attention. There was a weight to the air between them, a vulnerability they’d both spent years avoiding.

"Why did you do it?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice quieter but filled with curiosity and an edge of hurt.

Y/N took a deep breath, the words slow to form. "Ah... Carlos, we were young. We didn’t know what we were doing. We said stupid things. I packed everything, got on the first plane, and left." Her voice wavered slightly as she finally dared to meet Carlos’ eyes, her smile fragile. "And... you didn’t come after me."

Carlos froze, caught off guard by the directness of Y/N’ words. "I didn’t think you wanted me to follow you," he admitted after a pause, his voice tinged with regret.

Y/N wrinkled her nose slightly at the response, a bitter half-smile playing on her lips. "Well, that doesn’t matter anymore," she said, brushing off the lingering ache with practiced ease. "What matters now is figuring this out for our children."

Carlos sighed deeply, the tension between them palpable. "Yes," he agreed, though his voice lacked conviction. " for their sake, we need to figure this out." He broke eye contact, focusing instead on finishing his drink as though it could wash away the uncomfortable emotions.

Y/N noticed the subtle shift in Carlos’ demeanor, the way his shoulders tightened ever so slightly. To distract herself from the growing heaviness in the room, Y/N picked up her spoon and took a small sip of her soup. It was more out of habit than hunger, but it gave her something to do as the silence stretched on, thick and unyielding.

*****

Y/N and Carlos stood at the hotel’s front desk, sorting through their paperwork to finalize the check-out process. Both of them were an odd mix of calm efficiency and subtle tension, their movements synchronized from years of parenting together, yet their silence spoke volumes.

“Mrs. Y/LN, everything is ready,” Martin, her butler, announced, handing Y/N their neatly stacked passports.

Y/N gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Martin. Do you know if Mattia is ready?”

Martin nodded. “I just called him. He shouldn’t be long coming down.”

Satisfied, Y/N turned back to her half-packed suitcase. Without looking at Carlos, she spoke in a measured tone. “So... Mattia will spend Christmas with you.”

Carlos didn’t miss a beat. “And Matheo will spend Easter with you,” he replied smoothly.

Their eyes met briefly, each weighing unspoken words that hovered between them. But before either could say anything more, the soft chime of the elevator broke the moment. Turning toward the sound, they saw their twin sons step out. Y/N and Carlos instantly froze—the boys were dressed identically in pink shirts.

“Mattia, what are you doing dressed like that?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with confusion and mild annoyance. “We’re leaving for London. You need to change.”

One of the twins crossed his arms, a smug smile playing on his face. “Here’s the thing, Mom. We’ve been talking, and we think we’re being fooled.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Fooled? By who?”

The other twin stepped forward, matching his brother’s stance. “By you and mom. You promised us summer camp. We want to go… together.”

Y/N exchanged a baffled glance with Carlos. “What camp?” Carlos finally asked.

“The one we always go to before school starts,” the first twin clarified, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/N took a deep breath, her patience already wearing thin. “Mattia, this is ridiculous. Go upstairs and change. We’re leaving.”

“Are you sure I’m Mattia?” the boy countered, tilting his head innocently.

Y/N shot him a sharp look. “Of course, I’m sure.”

The other twin piped up, a mischievous glint in his eye. “But it’s hard to be 100% sure, isn’t it?”

Both boys grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos they were causing.

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kids, this isn’t funny. You’re going to make your mom miss her plane.”

Y/N’s frustration bubbled over. “Mattia!” she snapped.

“Yes?” both boys answered in perfect unison.

Carlos squatted slightly to their eye level, seeing them carefully. After a moment, he pointed to the boy on his right. “You’re Matheo. I’m not mistaken.”

The boy smirked. “Are you sure, Dad? Because it wouldn’t be a good idea to send the wrong child to London again.”

Carlos hesitated, his confidence faltering. He stepped back with a resigned sigh. Y/N threw him an exasperated look, silently pleading for backup, but Carlos simply shrugged, powerless against their twins’ well-executed plan.

“Alright, I have a proposal,” one of the twins declared, stepping forward as if he were brokering a business deal. “Let’s go to Dad’s house, pack everything, and the four of us will go camping together.”

Y/N blinked, completely thrown off. “The four of us?”

“Exactly,” the other twin chimed in. “And when we get back, we’ll tell you who’s Mattia and who’s Matheo.”

Y/N crossed her arms, his patience hanging by a thread. “You’ll do as you’re told. One of you is coming back to London with me, whether you like it or not.” Her voice warned them in an angry mother tone, but the twins were unfazed.

Both boys grinned again, clearly enjoying the chaos they had unleashed. Y/N turned to Carlos, desperate. “You’re their dad! Do something!”

Carlos scratched the back of his neck, suppressing a laugh. “To be fair, this is kind of genius.”

Y/N groaned. “Not helping.”

prev chap

[sofiatarot]

Pick a Card: Messages from Your Inner Child

1.2

3.4

Group 1

The emotional energy in this reading is overwhelming in the best way—so much love, hope, and joy are calling out to you. The presence of so many cups is a reminder of your ability to dream big and feel deeply. That child, the one that once believed in endless possibilities, is asking you to reconnect. They want you to remember how to envision a life filled with genuine happiness, where your heart leads the way.

A wave of nostalgia or familiar feelings might be washing over you lately. This isn’t meant to trap you in the past but to help you rediscover what has always made you feel alive. Think of it as a chance to reignite old passions, revisit the dreams you once held close, and merge them with the person you’ve become.

If you’ve been feeling stuck or unsure of your next step, there’s a gentle encouragement here to pause and reassess. Sometimes, the most meaningful progress comes from letting go of control and allowing things to unfold naturally. You don’t have to rush. You’re being guided toward clarity and purpose, and it’s closer than you think.

Rest is also a theme that keeps coming through. If life has felt overwhelming, take this as permission to slow down. Your most vibrant ideas and creations will come to life when you allow yourself the time to recharge. Listen to what your energy levels are telling you—your creativity thrives when you honor your limits.

The relationships in your life are also under the spotlight. There’s so much healing and joy to be found in the connections that matter most. Focus on nurturing those bonds that make you feel supported and understood, while releasing those that no longer align with who you are becoming.

You’re stepping into a chapter of self-confidence and creative power. All the obstacles you’ve faced have been building your resilience, and now you’re ready to take charge. The little kid that has always believed in your unique spark is urging you to embrace it fully.

And lastly, if you’ve been struggling with indecision, trust that your heart already knows the way. You’ve grown so much, and your inner wisdom is strong. Let it guide you forward with courage and an open heart.

Group 2

The emotional journey you’ve been on hasn’t been easy, but the little child that has always believed in your strength is here to remind you of your power. There’s a message about finding balance again, especially when it comes to honoring your needs. You’ve been through moments of doubt, but those do not define you—they are part of your growth.

You’re in a period of transformation, even if it feels messy or uncertain. This side of you, the one that sees change as an opportunity rather than a challenge, is encouraging you to trust the process. Even in moments of stillness or delay, there is progress happening beneath the surface.

Honesty with yourself is key. If you’ve been pushing emotions aside or avoiding certain truths, it’s time to face them with compassion. Vulnerability can be intimidating, but it’s also incredibly liberating. The part of you that feels deeply wants you to know that it’s okay to let those feelings out—they’ll lead you to clarity.

They also highlight your incredible perseverance. Despite the setbacks or challenges you’ve faced, you’ve continued to push forward. The strength you’ve built over time is a testament to your resilience, and it’s something to be proud of. Let this remind you that you can handle whatever lies ahead.

Your dreams and desires are calling out to you, and now is the time to realign with what truly matters. That small kid that used to dream freely wants you to listen closely—what do you really want, beyond the expectations of others? Take a moment to explore this question and let it guide your next steps.

There’s also encouragement to trust your inner light, the light they offer. Even when things feel heavy, that spark of creativity and passion within you remains strong. Don’t let setbacks dim your fire—you have so much to offer, and the world needs to see it.

Finally, this is a call to let go of self-judgment. Please, forgive yourself for the times you’ve stumbled or felt unsure. The little you that always wanted the best for your future is proud of how far you’ve come. Keep moving forward with an open heart and trust that brighter days are ahead.

Group 3

The path ahead is filled with potential, and this child that thrives on dreaming big and exploring possibilities is ready to guide you. This reading is about finding balance—between ambition and rest, dreaming and doing. The decisions you’re weighing right now are important, and deep down, you already know which direction feels most aligned with your heart.

The idea of partnership and connection comes through strongly. You don’t have to navigate this journey alone. Your inner child wants you to lean on others when needed. Whether it’s a friend, mentor, or partner, allow yourself to receive help and encouragement—it’s not a weakness but a strength.

Creativity is knocking at your door, and you’re being encouraged to open up to new possibilities. That playful, curious part of yourself wants you to experiment, take risks, and embrace imperfection. Progress doesn’t come from perfection; it comes from showing up and trying.

This is also a moment to evaluate what truly matters. If you’ve been juggling too many responsibilities, it’s time to prioritize. Let go of anything that feels heavy or misaligned with your goals. Simplifying your focus will bring clarity and energy to what truly lights you up.

Your sense of worth is another important theme. The version of you that always believed in abundance wants to remind you that you’re deserving of good things. Whether in your career, relationships, or personal pursuits, don’t settle for less than what you know you deserve.

They also acknowledge the mental challenges you’ve faced. If you’ve been feeling uncertain or overwhelmed, take a step back. They know that clarity often comes when you look at the bigger picture. Trust that the answers you’re seeking will reveal themselves in time.

Lastly, there’s a reminder to believe in your ability to overcome challenges. The courage and wisdom you’ve cultivated are tools that will carry you forward. You have what it takes to navigate any obstacle and create the life you’ve been dreaming of.

Group 4

You’ve overcome so much, and the part of you that has always been your biggest supporter is asking you to take a moment to acknowledge your resilience. Even in difficult times, you’ve found ways to rise and keep going. That strength is something to celebrate.

This reading speaks to releasing fear and stepping into your power. Limiting beliefs and self-doubt may have held you back before, but it’s time to let them go. You’re capable of creating the life you’ve always wanted, and that inner voice encouraging you knows it’s true.

Change is a central theme here. You’re in the midst of a powerful transformation, even if it feels uncertain or uncomfortable. This part of you wants to remind you that every ending leads to a new beginning. Trust the process and know that you’re being guided toward something greater.

Intuition is a powerful tool for you right now. Your inner guidance has always been strong, and it’s especially important to listen to it now. That quiet, knowing voice within you will lead you toward the right choices—trust it fully.

You’re also being reminded of your limitless potential. The part of you that once saw the world as full of adventure wants you to reconnect with that perspective. Don’t let fear or past setbacks keep you from reaching for your dreams.

Relationships and connections are a focus here as well. Surround yourself with people who uplift and inspire you. Let go of any relationships that feel draining or misaligned with your values. The people who truly care about you will support your growth wholeheartedly.

Finally, there’s a call to celebrate the abundance already present in your life. Gratitude is a powerful force, and by focusing on the good, you’ll attract even more joy and prosperity. Keep your heart open and trust that beautiful things are on their way.

xoxo 🌙

[rec-flies-away]

The 0-10 pain scale us relative, though. A pain that makes you cry and struggle to think isn’t a 2, it’s 6-8 somewhere.

0 is when you feel like you have no pain. If that sounds hard to conceptualise, you might always be in pain.

1 is a faint background pain that you only notice when you think about it, and that’s really easy to ignore. A lot of you wouldn’t call this a pain. At 1, people might use words like ‘uncomfortable’ or ‘a bit annoying’ instead of pain.

At 2-3, it gets harder to ignore, but it’s still tolerable. You can still think normally and go about usual routines, but it’s more mental effort to ignore the pain.

At 4-5 the pain is getting distracting. Your thoughts start occasionally being interrupted or clouded by pain. You’re not really ignoring the pain anymore, just accepting its existence as background noise while trying to continue with other stuff. At this point several normal routine activities get affected, but it’s still tolerable.

6 is completely impossible to ignore, the pain is no longer background noise, but instead actively bothersome at all times. This is the beginning of untolerable levels of pain. At 6, usual activities and function is definitely impaired, but you’re not completely knocked out.

7-8 are more powerfully bothersome, impair your usual activities severely, and feel unmanageable. It’s normal to get a bit frantic at this level, whether that’s repositioning a lot to relieve it, trying everything that might help, or just having your thoughts race as your mind struggles to deal with the overwhelming pain.

9 stops all activities because the only thing that exists in your mind is the pain, what you might do about it, and immediate important basic needs/problems. 9 overpowers all other thought processes, and it usually gets harder to string words together. You might feel a bit like your body tries to move uncontrollably in response to the pain, but you can probably still somewhat control yourself if you really have to.

10 completely utterly consumes your mind, body, and emotions. If your body reacts with movement to the pain, you’re helpless to control it - you might drop to the ground, uncontrollably wither or spasm, squirm, scream, all kinds of basic body impulses can happen, and you won’t be able to control or resist them. At all. 10 dominates your whole world, there is nothing else than you and your pain. All activities are way out of the question, and even basic needs are pushed aside, not a priority. 10 is so extremely intolerable that it either passes quickly, or someone helps you - if neither happens, you’re going to either pass out or enter a very fucked up mental state that no person should be forced into.

The scale is relative.

But what about when a pain started as an 8, but over time you learnt to kind of push it into the back of your mind and go on with your day? That’s a normal process of learning to live with chronic pain, unfortunately. And some of you will hate to hear this, but that means your 8 is no longer an 8. You adapted, and the same pain that started as an 8 became a 6.

This is what adjusting to chronic pain means. Your scale shifts.

That doesn’t mean you need more points on the scale, because the scale was always subjective and relative. But it does mean you need to use some clarifying statements when advocating for yourself.

‘My 6 isn’t like your 6, when I say 6 it’s a very intense pain that most people would feel as an 8.’

‘I worked hard to learn to live with it, and my scale shifted. I still need your patience, it still takes a lot out of me.’

‘When this pain started, it was an 8 on most days and peaked at 9 during flares. While the pain feels the same still, it hits me more as a 6, with 5 on good days and flares at 7.’

‘My goal is pain that I can actually ignore, instead of living with the constant distracting background noise. My goal with treatment is getting this pain below 4.’

‘When I say my pain is a [number], what I mean is that it’s [level of distracting], [amount of inpairment], [change to thoughts and voluntary movements].’

You aren’t at 9 of you’re going about your daily routines like always. Another person feeling the same pain might be at a 9, but you’re not. Not anymore. You learnt, adapted, adjusted.

You are an amazingly adaptive being, and learning to live with higher levels of pain is an impressive feat and skill. That’s what doctors mean when they say ‘course in coping with pain’. You figuring it out on your own is a good thing, even though the circumstances suck.

Doesn’t mean you deserve intense pain living at the back of your head all the time.

You can and should ask for help to get your pain down into ignorable levels, which is 1-3.

My ignorable pain might be somebody else’s 7, and that’s just how it is. The scale accounts for that by being relative and subjective.

And if you’re crying in pain, it’s not a 2. That’s at least 6. If you’re biting your hand in despair to make a toothache stop, don’t call it a 3, that’s devalidating yourself. That’s at least 7, likely 8 or 9. If you can’t think anymore due to a pain from an injury people claim doesn’t hurt much, don’t just say that you can’t think from a 3. Find the point on the scale that fits your subjective experience.

This goes both ways, guys.

If your tolerance is low, you hit higher numbers faster.

If your tolerance is high, you stay at lower numbers for longer.

It’s inherently subjective and treating it as anything but subjective is going to get you misunderstood, and that not only sucks but also can negatively affect your healthcare.

It’s okay to have low pain tolerance.

It’s okay to cry because your pain is at a 2 out of 10.

It’s okay to have higher tolerance for certain types of pain and lower tolerance for others.

It’s okay to be upset that your pain makes you dissociate, but not know any other way to deal with it.

Chronic pain is awful, period. Everyone who deals with it deserves compassion.

[seoulmatez]

𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝑒

memories of high school come flooding back when you happen upon a certain photo in suna's possession.

suna rintaro x reader ﾉ 1.7k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ♡

When you get home from spending the day with Suna and are busy shedding yourself of your winter outerwear, you realize you brought something home that you shouldn’t have. You’re wearing a hoodie you didn’t put on this morning—one courtesy of Suna, one that he was surprisingly kind enough to lend you when he noticed your shivering and the goosebumps raised on your arms. You had every intention of returning it to him before you parted ways but it seems as though it slipped your mind and his. 

You dig through your bag in search of your phone, pulling out the device once you feel your fingers graze the case. It takes practically no time for you to find Suna’s contact—he’s the one person you call and text the most—and you click on the little phone icon to give him a call. One ring sounds before he answers.

“Miss me already?” His smooth voice crackles a bit over the line but it's his nevertheless.

You roll your eyes at his presumptuous greeting but you can’t stop your lips from pulling up in a smile. You’re just glad he can’t see you—he’d surely use your expression as evidence to back up his claim. “Give it a few more hours and maybe.”

“Liar,” he mumbles just loud enough for you to catch it. You can hear the pout in his voice.

You shake your head to stop yourself from laughing. Your feet begin to carry you from the doorway to your bedroom as you continue. “Look, I accidentally wore your hoodie home. Should I bring it back?”

His response comes quickly. “Nah, you can keep it.”

“As in you don’t want it back? At all?”

“It's yours.”

“Sunarin, your generosity today has been mind-boggling.” You plop down on your bed and hug one of the pillows to your chest. You’ve known Suna for a long time, long enough to know that he doesn’t usually let go of his things so easily. There’s no shortage of memories that you can recall of him being possessive of his belongings—his unwillingness to share his jelly candies, his reluctance to let you use his pokemon pillows during your sleepovers. 

You suppose his goodwill today can be viewed as a sign of progress. You’re grateful—you really were cold earlier. And, wearing his clothes while you aren’t in his presence makes you feel like he’s near. With a simple inhale, you can smell him on the fabric.

“Jeez,” Suna’s voice cuts through your thoughts, “it’s starting to sound like you want me to take it back.”

“No, no, I’ll happily take it off your hands.” You finally concede, but not without adding, “Thanks.”

The two of you chat for a little while longer before saying your goodbyes for the second time tonight. You plug up your phone and stand up, ready to wind down and start your nightly routine. Though, when you boost yourself up from the mattress, something falls from the pocket of your new hoodie.

A black leather rectangle. Suna’s wallet, you realize.

You don’t want to interrupt Suna again by calling so you simply pick up the wallet, unplug your phone, and snap a picture with it before sending it off. With the picture, a message reads: Pretty sure you want this back, yeah?

His reply comes almost immediately. Yah. Bring it tmrw.

Another message bubble quickly follows. Pls.

You assure him you will and wish him good night before setting your phone aside. You turn your attention to the wallet in your hands. It’s smooth against your skin but the corners look worn like he’s been using it for a while. You ponder the thought of getting him a new one as a gift as you fiddle with the leather. 

The wallet slips between your fingers with your careless movements and lands on your bed—open. You hadn’t intended to snoop, truly. Your first thought is to close it and put it on your nightstand but something catches your eye before you do so.

A printed picture peeks out from one of the pockets, its corners and edges just as worn as the wallet it’s tucked into. Most of the image is covered but enough is on display for you to make up the subject—it’s a person. And that person wears their hair almost exactly how you did in high school.

You quietly apologize to an unknowing Suna for invading his privacy as you pull the picture out from his wallet. The person doesn’t just happen to wear their hair like you—the person is you. You in your Inarizaki uniform, posing with a big smile and a peace sign in the gym.

Seeing the photo almost transports you back to that moment all those years ago. You sat in on the volleyball team’s practices a lot in high school, mostly because of Suna. As much as you were happy to support him, watching the same thing every day got boring after a while. This day in particular, you happened to have your camera with you and you made use of it by snapping pictures throughout their practice. 

A good number of them turned out incredibly blurry due to the motion—it’s not easy to get a good picture of a volleyball soaring through the air on a polaroid. Eventually, you ended up turning the camera around to take a selfie. By the time practice wrapped up and Suna joined you for your walk to the train station, you presented him with the product of your efforts while he was hard at work.

Giving the picture to him was meant to be a joke—you never would have imagined he’d keep it back then, much less continue to carry it with him years later. It makes you chuckle, both in amazement and embarrassment. You really thought this print would have ended up in the garbage or at least lost in a move.

Suna is full of surprises.

You should be getting ready for bed but this unintentional discovery has sparked some inspiration within you. You’ve gotten a new camera since then but it takes and prints pictures all the same. You reach over to your nightstand where you keep it and snatch up the device.

Instead of showering and going to sleep, you spend some time holding a solo photoshoot. Like when you were in high school, you snap picture after picture, striking all the poses you can fathom before you run out of film. Oddly enough, the one that turns out best is the one in which you’re replicating the pose from when you were a teenager—a big smile and peace sign.

The next day, with Suna’s wallet in your bag, you knock your knuckles against his front door. It’s almost silent on the other side of the door until you hear the sound of his slippers dragging along the floor as he approaches. With a click, the door unlocks and Suna appears before you.

“I’m here~” you announce yourself in a sing-songy voice as you reach into your bag. “And I’ve got your wallet.”

You hold out the leather rectangle to him. He accepts it and steps to the side to let you in. As you kick off your shoes in favor of a pair of slippers, you look over your shoulder to tell him, “Might wanna make sure everything’s in there. For all you know, I might have robbed you.”

His eyebrows pull together in what would look like a frown if his lips weren’t curled up in a grin. You watch as he opens the wallet and thumbs through the pockets, taking inventory of the few banknotes and important cards he stores in the pockets. His examination seems to be coming to a close when he suddenly notices something.

His thumb brushes over the corner of the photo—the new photo you were sure to tuck in there this morning. Suna has taken notice of something different about it, something that raises his alarm enough to pull the picture out. His eyes widen at the realization that it’s not the picture he’s known to be tucked away for the past several years. 

“I thought you could use an updated version,” you tell him, taking a seat on the couch. “But I never thought you’d actually keep that.”

He looks closely at the “updated version,” his light eyes scanning the picture. It’s incredibly similar to the one from high school—you look a little older, the setting is different and so are your clothes, but your smile hasn’t changed in the slightest. It’s almost as if he’s reliving the first time you gave him a polaroid like this—his heart thumps heavily against his ribs all the same, anyway. “Would have been pretty shitty of me to throw it away. Since it was a gift and all.”

You smile as Suna sits down next to you, carefully putting the new picture back in his wallet. “How long have you kept that in there?” you ask out of simple curiosity.

Suna shrugs, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “A while, I guess.”

That’s not much of an answer, not one you were looking for, at least. “Fine.” You nudge him playfully with your shoulder. “Keep your secrets.”

He chuckles, seemingly happy that you choose not to press him on it. As welcome as the new picture is, a sense of unease still blankets over him. 

“Do you still have the other one?” Suna asks.

You tilt your head to the side. “Hm?”

He gestures to his wallet. “The picture—do you have the old one?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think he’d miss it now that he had a new one. But even with how old and somewhat embarrassing the picture was, you couldn’t find it in yourself to throw it away—especially not when Suna had been cherishing it for years. “Yeah, it’s back at my place. You still want it?”

He hums. “Yeah. I do.”

You had no idea it meant that much to him. The confession makes your heart flutter in your chest and your cheeks warm in bashfulness. You find it a little difficult to meet his eye after his declaration. “Then I’ll make sure it gets back to you.”

He leans over to place a kiss against your temple. You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. “Thanks.”

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[daryltwdixon]

So could you write a pretty angst-y fic where Joel and reader are in an established relationship and they've been settled in Jackson for a while, taking part in patrols and all. And one day, reader and Tommy go out on patrol and they're taking longer than they should to come back and Joel is anxiously waiting by the gate. Then he sees Tommy approaching on his horse with reader's limp body in his arms and a scared look on his face. Reader's been badly hurt while saving Tommy's life. Joel thinks he's gonna lose her but thankfully she recovers (so happy ending!!!)

Thanks! I hope you can understand the general idea, English is not my first language so bear with me lol

first ever Joel request :') thank you anon!!!! had this in the draft for the past few days

The air bit at Joel’s face as he paced near the gate, his boots grinding against the frost-touched dirt. The sun had started to dip, its light staining the snow a faint amber, and still, there was no sign of them. He glanced at Maria, who stood a few feet away, her arms crossed and her expression tight.

“They’re late,” Joel muttered, more to himself than her.

“Give them time,” she replied evenly, though her voice carried no conviction.

Every nerve in Joel’s body felt like it was stretched thin, pulled taut by the silence. He wasn’t the type to panic—he’d seen too much, lost too much that he'd grown a thick skin—but this was different. You were different. And Tommy... Hell, he couldn’t let himself think about it.

When the sound of hooves finally broke the stillness, Joel’s head snapped toward the horizon. Relief flickered in his chest, but it was fleeting. The sight of Tommy riding toward the gates, his horse kicking up fresh snow, sent his stomach lurching.

You were slumped against Tommy’s chest, your body limp as a rag doll.

Tommy’s face was pale, his jaw tight. “Open the gate!” he shouted, urgency sharpening his voice.

Joel’s feet moved before his brain could catch up, his heart thundering like a war drum. His hands felt clumsy as he helped Maria shove the gate open, the cold metal biting into his palms.

“What the hell happened?” Joel demanded, his voice rising as Tommy reined the horse in.

“She—she saved me,” Tommy stammered, his breath fogging in the cold. “Raiders. She pushed me outta the way, Joel. Got hit bad—”

Joel didn’t hear the rest. His eyes were locked on you, on the blood soaking through your jacket and the way your head lolled against Tommy’s shoulder. He reached up, his hands trembling, and carefully took you from Tommy’s arms.

“Jesus, no—no, no, no,” Joel muttered under his breath, his voice cracking as he cradled you against him. You were too still, your face too pale, and the warmth of your blood seeped through his clothes.

Maria was shouting something about getting a stretcher, about calling for a doctor, but Joel barely registered it. He carried you toward the infirmary, his steps uneven and frantic.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his face to your hair. “Don’t you dare leave me. Don’t you dare.”

The hours that followed were a blur of blood-stained bandages, hushed voices, and Joel’s chest so tight he could barely breathe. He sat by your bedside, his hands gripping yours like they were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

You didn’t stir.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Joel rasped, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His voice was low, hoarse. “You hear me? You’re gonna be fine. I’ll kill anyone who says otherwise.”

Joel hadn’t moved from the chair in hours. His back ached, his legs felt stiff, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The only thing grounding him was the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of your chest.

The infirmary was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater. The blood had been cleaned off your skin, the deep wound on your side stitched and wrapped. But the pale cast to your face still gnawed at him, clawing at the frayed edges of his composure.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his voice low. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve fought through worse, haven’t you? Don’t make me sit here and talk to myself like a damn fool.”

He didn’t realize he’d drifted off until he felt your fingers twitch in his. It was subtle—barely there—but it sent a jolt through him. His head shot up, his heart hammering as your lashes fluttered.

“Hey,” he breathed, standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. He leaned over you, his hand cupping your cheek as your eyes cracked open. “Hey, there you are. You’re awake.”

You blinked sluggishly, your gaze trying to focus on his face. “Joel?”

“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” His voice cracked, his forehead lowering to press against yours for a long moment. His breath was shaky, his hands trembling as they cupped your face.

Then—in a move that to anyone but you that knew Joel would be uncharacteristic—he kissed your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—his lips lingering as if trying to will you back to life.

But the reprieve didn’t last. When he pulled back, the familiar furrow of his brow returned, and his jaw tightened.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” he growled, stepping back just enough to meet your eyes. The raw edge of his voice sliced through the haze of your exhaustion. “Throwin’ yourself in front of Tommy like that? You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

The gruffness in his tone didn’t surprise you—it was Joel’s way of dealing with fear. But the storm in his eyes made your throat tighten.

“Tommy—he… needed help,” you rasped, your voice weak.

“I don’t give a damn what the excuse is,” Joel snapped, his hand raking through his hair. He paced to the foot of the bed, then back to your side, his frustration barely contained. “You think I can just sit here and watch you—watch you almost…” His voice broke, and he turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.

Your heart twisted at the sight. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, but here he was, raw and undone.

“Joel,” you whispered.

He turned back to you, his jaw tight. “You don’t get to do that,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You don’t get to make that choice for me. For us.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and you reached out, your fingers brushing his hand. He hesitated for a moment before taking your hand in his, holding it tightly like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmured.

“Well, you did. You scared the hell outta me,” he shot back, though his grip on your hand softened. “Don’t ever do that again. You hear me?”

You managed the faintest of smiles, your lips quirking despite the ache in your body. “Bossy.”

Joel let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Damn right I’m bossy. And you’d better start listenin’.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the hum of the heater and the quiet, shaky breaths Joel took to calm himself. He sank back into the chair, his head bowing as he rested his forehead against your joined hands.

“You’re stuck with me,” you whispered, echoing the words he’d once said to you.

Joel huffed, "Got that right.”

When he lifted his head, his eyes were softer, though the tension in his jaw hadn’t fully eased. He kissed your knuckles again, lingering for a moment.

“I mean it,” he muttered, his voice gruff but tender. “Don’t scare me like that again. I can’t…” He trailed off, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’ll try,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his.

“That’s all I’m askin’,” Joel replied, his lips twitching into a small, reluctant smile.

He stayed there, his chair pulled close to your bedside, his hand never leaving yours. And for the first time in hours, the storm inside him began to quiet.

[l0vebombing]

if each of the boys is aware of the others' existence, i can only imagine how much they'd hate the idea that someone else could have the chance to touch your body the same way they do.

sure, it'd be insanely hot to imagine fucking with all of them at the same time, of course it would, but i don't really believe there's any chance of that happening. just the mention of something like that would probably result in xavier fucking you against the window again, maybe even making you call one of your dear ‘friends’ just to make sure they know you're very much taken, even if your mind tends to wander into unconventional ideas that will never happen.

zayne would have to hold back from rolling his eyes at a suggestion like that. if you wanted someone else instead of him, he wouldn't stop you from chasing who you really loved. but sharing you, after you've already chosen him? not his style, and he'd rather believe you were just trying to get under his skin. still, that wouldn't stop him from reminding you that you shouldn't be so greedy when you can barely keep up with him alone.

rafayel would be so offended, seriously. frustrated, irritated, and all the negative feelings a person could possibly feel. he’d probably say something like, "oh, sure, let's invite a bunch of strangers to fuck my girl. because that's not at all awkward or problematic." it would definitely take you a while to calm him down. and even after apologizing, you wouldn't be off the hook— he's never been particularly rough in bed, but after such a suggestion, he'd feel compelled to show you that he's more than enough and far better than anyone else could ever be.

sylus' incredulous laugh would sweep his momentary anger under the rug, he'd rather pretend he misheard you. honestly, he'd also think you only brought it up to annoy him, because you must know he'd never agree to share you with anyone. you’d spend a good while sitting on his lap, the office door locked tightly, watching some old videos to refresh your memory as to why that idea was ridiculous. his hands would hold your wrists firmly, ensuring yours didn't wander lower than he'd allow for the next week.

suggesting that to caleb would be like asking for another decade of private captivity, without contact with anyone except him. depending on his mood at the moment, he might say he found your joke amusing— or he'd fuck the idea right out of your head. he waited so long to see you again, this time finally able to have you the way he wanted, no longer having to act like just some friend, and now you say something like that? ha. go to sleep— tomorrow's another day, and you'll have plenty of time locked inside his house to reflect on your words. but that only after the number of rounds you've gone through surpasses the number of positions you've tested.

[call-me-lemon]

Fuck it ill answer all of them in order

01: hah, no.

02: my cat

03: yup

04: Oh, very

05: Single

06: Im not picky

07: One single buttery round cracker

08: hah, no.

09: not anymore

10: hmm.. has to be several years ago now

11: yup.

12: Longer, even, just to prove that I could.

13: I hate several people.

14: I miss everyone.

15: Several!

16: My stomach hurts but my spirits are high. Im being very brave.

17: nope

18: Not as much as I used to be, but yes.

19: Nah, im good how I am. Things happened how they happened and theyre going to keep happening, so theres no point in meddling.

20: never snogged a day in my life

21: Exist and find joy in the moment. I never plan anything.

22: Nope

23: Nope, I only wear clipons.

24: uhhhh being gay.

25: A few, yes. My friends from elementary school (Primary for the brits)

26: Im not craving anything at the moment

27: I cant imagine so, im not desirable.

28: I can imagine so. My first bf was always flirtimg with anoother guy in front of me and when I told him it made me uncomfortable he just said "Dont worry about it" and we never spoke of it again. I think that counts.

29: Cannot confirm or deny, but its likely.

30: My feet kind of hurt.

31: I hope so.

32: Yellow. Pastel yellow, specifically.

33: Who can say for sure. I cant self-diagnose that kind of thing.

34: Trying to kill my mom in a fit of rage, but nothing I did had any effect on her and she talked down to me the entire time which only made the fit worse.

35: I dont remember.

36: Maybe. I dont like holding grudges, too much effort on my end.

37: for me, forget.

38: Who knows, its barely started.

39: probably either teen or preteen.

40: No.

51: (Fuck it ig we doing 50s now) Fetucinni alfredo

52: Probably not any reason higher than just the way the world is. There is no divine purpose and life is what you make of it.

53: I took my cat to the bathroom and gave her a piggy-back ride back into my room as was her will.

54: Nothing is black and white, but you'd better have a damn good reason or you get put into the pit.

55: Oh, very.

56: Like one or two at most and I did not do well.

57: Nope. In fact, I dislike the idea of having this one true love tied to you by fate. It takes all the choice out of the relationship. Either be with someone the strings of time have chosen for you, or be alone forever. Thats horrifying.

58: Snow and rain. Makes me sleepy

59: Love it.

60: I dont really care either way

61: Nope. I dislike that pet name even tho I use it personally for my cats, but it feels a little bit to demeaning to be used for a lover since in my experience its always been used from a position of power.

62: Living and being free to live.

63: I dont really like my name but I dont have anything I actually do like to change it to. I guess I just dont like being percieved.

64: I would rather kill myself actually.

65: God, I wish.

66: yes. Mostly. For the most part.

67: hermm... The owner of a warrior cats long term rp server.

68: I dont remember, I tend to say extremely deep sounding things at random. Im the stupidest bitch alive but it lets me spout sage wisdom once in a while.

69: No. Love is what you make of it.

70: I would die or kill for anyone I actually care about no questions asked.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?