#very lame happy pride from me

[johankasas]

Also this was chilling in back of my Sai.

I will draw something proper for pride I promise, meanwhile enjoy the plant boy being proud dude

[ya-gurl-emily]

What are you supposed to do when you finish a collection? honest question.

(a transformers collection memiour I guess?)

For reference: about 4 years ago (Holy shit it's been 4 years, covid time is fucked up) I got really into transformers,

it started by just wanting a fidget toy for my desk so I got Kingdom Arcee because I liked her as a kid and I was feeling very #Girl (also cause the only bumblebee was the ww2 buggy that I regret not picking up)

But that toy kinda sucked ass so I got 86 Jazz, followed by Kingdom Optimus because cmon it's the big man himself.

So yeah I figured this was just a hobby now so I gave myself a goal: Complete the main cast of Transformers Prime

Honestly I picked an amazing time to get into toy collecting, Just late enough that I wasn't stuck with siege figures or bad covid QC, but early enough that I got some basic G1 cast before legacy (like genuinely Bulkhead and Arcee in wave 1?? Along with my personal Glup shitto Dragstrip? It was made for me)

It's been a blast, it's so satisfying seeing my cast grow, I love finding old figures at any cons I go to (I got classics Bee and Thrilling 30 springer at my first comic-con and those 2 are amazing)

But that idea of having the complete tfp cast was always in the back of my mind and any casts I completed along the way were fun bonuses (07 movie cast, Devastation autobots, RID 2015 and I don't even like that show)

But now that's just about finished, I don't have literally every character in the show, I'm missing a few one off episode characters that I don't care enough to get (I'm not spending 60 euro on dreadwing again just because he's green, also tfp cliff looks sick but it's bundled with 90 euro worth of toys I don't want (also it's fucking cliffjumper, he'll get a new toy eventually) )

But yeah... Now what?

I still like transformers, there's stuff I'm excited for but there's no long term goal, yknow?

I'm already struggling to justify this to myself as is whenever I put a new toy on display I have an honest to God existential crisis about what I'm doing with my life

(I nearly cried transforming spoiler nemesis prime for this reason) but then a day or 2 passes and it's back to being sick

Idk it's a weird feeling, not bittersweet, more like, yeah okay, that's cool I guess (granted I still haven't taken a photo of them all together so maybe my brain hasn't fully registered that it's happened, we'll see)

Anyways tldr: funny toy robots briefly made me feel alive and that's gone now

[prettyboykatsuki]

MY LOVE, MY ALIBI | CALEB | XIA YIZHOU (LNDS)

♡ tags ; psuedocest / adoptive incest, afab + fem!reader, minor age-gap (3 years), mentions / non graphic depictions of child abuse (from readers days in the orphanage), childhood crushing, mutual pining, developing relationship, size difference, some religious imagery, loss of virginity, petnames (baby, princess, pipsquak), use of meimei once and gege a few times but very sparing, oral (f!recieving), nipple play, marking, light masochism from reader, mouth-spitting, fingering, bare-backing, 18+

♡ wc ; 23.3k (kill me)

♡ a/n ; hey. this is an incest fic for adoptive siblings. if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. block me if you need to. please spare me lecture.

also - i have reader be carried by caleb a couple of times but dude has a bionic arm so he's strong as shit to me. the size difference tag is mostly about his dick. aside from the carrying there is no phyiscal indicators for reader

important to the fic but i play in simplified cn. please go listen to the simplified cn voice actor before you read this. for my sanity. most of my characterization is based on various cn translations from the kind cn fanbase. special thank you to mao @/yinyuedijun and this yt channel.

♡ synopsis ; for as long as you can remember, the sight of caleb's back is whats made you feel safest. it's no surprise that every man that comes after him never quite measures up.

extended authors note. | caleb playlist | ao3 | tipjar

PART ONE: ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

At seven, you knock out one of your teeth roughhousing with one of the orphanage boys. 

The good news? You’re winning. You’re at the age where size matters more than gender but the boy you’re fighting is both bigger and older than you. 

Even so, you manage to pull off shoving him back.

You don’t know his name, only his face— buzzed head and red gums, the pristine picture of anger. You roll around with him in the small stretch of yard behind the orphanage - white tanktop stained with grass, all knobby knees and short limbs as you fight and fight and fight with every ounce of your strength. 

You are seven with something to prove and a lot already lost. Your pride refuses to let you lose further. You recieve a hit of adrenaline when you launch the top of your head into the older boys chin and hear his teeth clack from how hard it lands. He collapses in a pile, spits curses he learned from the grown-ups that come in and out as he lays there.

He nearly jumps you when you’re both down. Your head is throbbing where his chin connected and you can tell if he decides to fight you again, your chances of winning have slimmed significantly.

You see it in his eyes. In his face. He’s so angry. Always is. You knew it was a bad idea to provoke him to begin with. 

He nearly, nearly jumps you and almost knocks you out completely. 

So you decide it might be better to prepare for it. You fold up. Put your arms up high and brace for impact when a shadow - long, endless, casts over your head. Eyes half open, a familiar pair of beat-up sneakers stand in front of you in the grass. You hear a familiar voice. It’s colder than you’re used to.

“Bullying a little kid is lame,” Caleb says, sharp. It makes you shrink further even though it’s not directed at you. “Quit fighting or I’ll get one of the grown-ups.” 

You can’t see what's in front of you. You only hear a shock of gasps around you—another confrontation that quickly settles into silence before Caleb turns around. 

His face is soft as he bends down to be eye level. Kind, boyish, gentle - he opens up his arms. He’s not happy about something. You can tell because his smile is a little dimmer than normal. You desperately hope it isn’t because of you. 

Even knowing Caleb is going to scold you a bit, you find yourself welling up in tears from relief even over fear. You wail as you wrap your arms around his neck and Caleb hoists you up and carries you on his hip like you’re still a baby.

He’s silent as he carries you into the house. 

“You shouldn’t get into fights,” He says, soothing. You sniffle as he walks you inside. His shirt smells like summer, hands fisted in it. Holding on for dear life.  Call for me next time.” 

Caleb sits you on the mattress, in the room all the older kids share. Your feet don’t touch the ground as he kneels in front of you and rifles around under his bed. He has bandages and alcohol, cotton swabs and gauze. 

His eyes are kind as he assesses your wounds. Pours alcohol onto a cotton pad and frowns each time you sniffle and sob from the pain of getting them cleaned. “A crybaby like you shouldn’t fight anyone, seriously.” 

“Shut up,” You say first. You hang your head low, instant regret. Your hands close again, blunt nails digging into your palms. Your lower lip trembles. Caleb quickly puts a hand on the top of your head when he notices your distress. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Just depend on me, alright?” He grins with the same front tooth missing. Like a mirror image of you, you think. “I’ll always help you.” 

__

At ten, you give up celebrating your birthday. 

You’re the age Caleb was when you met and now you’ve both left the orphanage and lived away from it for a few years. You’ve spent nearly three years with a woman you call Grandma and the world feels a lot kinder with her in your life. She takes good care of you. Gives you a warm bed to sleep in, and good food to eat. Doesn’t get angry when you break cups or get up in the middle of the night to go pee.

You live in a house with only three people and you even get to have your own room—one you don’t have to share, not even with Caleb. It’s nice to sleep where there’s no one else, even if most nights you crawl into Caleb’s bed anyway and sleep next to him because it's more comfortable.

Grandma is nice to you. Sometimes, she looks like she’s somewhere far away but it never lasts for long. You’re thankful to her for taking you in. 

You have a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, and Caleb is right next to you. He’s your brother now, so you can be together forever. And none of the adults from the orphanage are here to punish him anymore when he tries to protect you. 

You’re ten and the world seems to be trying its best not to hurt you any further. Somehow, this only makes you feel more uneasy. 

You’re happy. It scares you. You often wonder when someone will punish you for it. If someone will be blamed for allowing it. It makes you feel helpless when you think about it too long. 

But you have Caleb. He makes it easier. You can cling onto his shirt when it gets too hard. And he’s older now, enough to really feel grown up. 

A night, when you clutch the fabric until it stretches wide, trembling after you’re plagued by bad dreams - having nightmares of rusted rain, Caleb is there. 

No matter how deeply asleep, he always wakes up to hold you. 

( You wait for him to tell you that you’re too big to be getting scared over nightmares, but the day still hasn’t come. You hope it never does. You think you’d be so sad you would never stop crying. )

You’re ten, and the world seems kinder - but you know better by now. You try to take precautionary measures against letting it take everything from you again. 

And you start small. With yourself, and your birthday. 

You’ve only ever celebrated a few birthdays. In the orphanage they’d celebrate a lot at once, so it never felt very  special. You can’t really remember the ones you had before then, don’t remember much from then at all.  Since you’ve been adopted, Grandma has celebrated your birthday and made it special. She and Caleb cook your favorite meal together and you sit around and cut-cake afterwards. 

They even decorate the house with balloons and streamers.

Your birthdays now don’t compare to the ones you had then. 

Nothing bad is happening but still. You like celebrating your birthday. But, can you feel okay about getting to celebrate a birthday at all? When you thought for sure your life might end before then?

Before your eleventh birthday, you announce to your family that you don’t want to do anything special this year. When they probe you with questions about why not, you refuse to give up any answers.

Caleb is thirteen and heartbroken when he hears you say this. Asks questions even as you turn your nose up and refuse to answer. You get into a fight about it, one of the very first of your entire relationship. 

It’s that same night you begin to sleep in your own room. 

In the weeks leading up to your birthday, you find your house to be more quiet than usual. Caleb is busy with something but you blame yourself for the distance between you. He always comes back seeming tired. Even though he still pats your head and smiles at you the same way, you notice when he seems a little less there at the dinner time. 

When your birthday finally comes, your grandma still decides to celebrate it in a small way. She makes your favorite food and gets you a cake and candles. Hugs you when you cry about it, too. The only thing they skip is the decoration. 

(You’re brave though, when next year rolls around and tell them you miss it. It makes Caleb happy enough to hug you tight.)  

The warmth that fills your heart seeing your name in iced letters is too big for your body. You wonder if this is what having a family was like. 

At night time, after dinner and before you cut the cake - you open your presents. There’s two for your eleventh birthday. One from grandma and one from Caleb. Usually, they sign their gift to you together but this year they’re separate. 

At first, your heart sinks, but you try not to think about it. Grandma gets you a bike that matches Caleb’s so the two of you can ride together. You’re happy to have it but Caleb insists you can just keep riding on the back of his if you don’t want to learn. 

You open Caleb’s gift second. It’s wrapped in pretty paper with a bow on it so you undo it carefully. Inside of it is a plain looking box.  

“Open it,” 

There’s a pair of earrings and a necklace when you do. It’s not cheap plastic like all the other jewelry you’ve ever had in your life. Little apples covered in gemstones, and a little gold necklace with a pendant and a locket. Your eyes go wide, fingers trembling a little as you touch it. 

You look for Caleb’s face unthinkingly. Kind and warm, eyes crinkled and shoulders slack in relief when he sees your happy reaction. His hand is warm as it rests on your head, rubbing gently. 

“It took a while but I’ve been helping our neighbors for money so I could buy it for you,” Caleb says, looking down at you with an easy grin. “The day you were born is important for me, so don’t say that you won’t celebrate it from now on. Okay?” 

When tears well up in your eyes, you barely have to say a word before Caleb brings you into his waist. You cry to him the same way you always do - with a hand fisted in the back of his shirt like you’re terrified of where you’d end up if you let go.

Even when you ruin his shirt with salty tears, Caleb never voices a word of complaint. His steady heartbeat and warm hands that make you feel like he’s already done it all before, stay exactly where you expect them. 

Your dependable, kind older brother. 

__ 

At thirteen, you take your first field trip overnight. 

It takes a tremendous amount of effort to make it happen. 

Grandma was easy to convince, but it took you fourteen whole days to convince your brother that you could handle going on a school field trip without having your hand held the entire time. 

(You can still hear the amused, taunting lilt in his voice from when you first mentioned it. Sure you’ll be okay pipsqueak? My bed won’t be there for you to take over if you get scared, you know?)

Ugh. He can be so strict. An you swear he was even more stubborn about it than usual. 

You had to use every tactic in the book to get him to say yes. Kissing up to him, acting extra wistful, doing your chores and being super well-behaved. After strategically buttering him up for two weeks prior to you just asking, you also made sure to ask when he had one of his friends over. He’s strict regardless of who's around, but having another person in your corner is good for morale. 

(This method is effective for the record. Just as Caleb goes to turn you down, his friend throws an eraser at him and clicks his teeth. 

“There’s a limit to your siscon behavior. Just let her go.”

You sneak said friend a candy the next time he comes over as thanks.) 

After a lot of persistent begging, Caleb relents and allows Grandma to sign your permission slip. It’s an overnight trip sure—but it’s heavily supervised and rooms are separated by gender anyhow. You really don’t know what he was so worried about.

So far, the trip has been really fun. You went to a butterfly garden conservatory as a part of your science project and one landed on your nose. Your friend even managed to get a good picture. In the afternoon, you did a bit of sightseeing and got to buy some street food. 

When evening rolled around, you and all your friends holed up in the same hotel room sleeping together on one big floor. You stayed up a few hours later than you should’ve—gossiping and discussing the newest chapter of a very popular romance webnovel.  Most of them are out by the time the clock hits midnight. 

And now, you’re the last one awake at 1am. 

Unfortunately, no matter how long you try to sleep—it is hard to sleep away from home, knowing Caleb isn’t right down the hall. No matter how much the thought makes you frown. 

You’ve outgrown the habit of crawling into his bed every night. Still, you think you rest easier knowing that he’s there. You’d never admit it but subconsciously, it comforts you just knowing he is. The few times you get nightmares of the Chronorift these days, your nightmares are especially persistent. You don’t crawl into his bed like you did when you were a little kid as often as you used to. Even when you want it, it’s just a little embarrassing. 

Regardless though, he’ll stay up with you until it passes, and until you go back to to sleep. It’s the only thing that helps it go down easier some nights. That he’d be there no matter what happened. 

By the time the clock strikes one-thirty, you get the feeling you just won’t be able to sleep unless you at least call him. 

So, after carefully sneaking your phone out of your bag - you leave your hotel room to wander the halls and end up in the lobby in your PJs. 

You realize your incidental act of rebellion when you catch some stares from late-night guests. You hesitate on whether or not you should go back before deciding that’d be pointless. Fingers hovering over the call button, it takes a beat before you hit and hear the number dial. He’ll probably scold you but you know he’ll answer. 

He picks up in one ring. His voice is thick with sleep when he speaks. “It’s late. You should be asleep.” 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gege,” You say, crossing slippered feet against the tile of the hotel lobby floor. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice softens instantly. “Somethin’ happen?” 

You shake your head before realizing he can’t see you. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” A beat. “I thought I would sleep better if…I talked to…someone.” 

It’s too embarrassing to tell him you wanted to talk to him, specifically. Caleb is quiet on the other side of the line before he laughs, just a little. “You were so adamant on wanting to go with your friends, huh? I thought you’d be just fine. Were you being brave for show?.” 

You frown a little, groaning. “I did have fun. A lot of fun. We talked a lot before bed too, and now everyone else is asleep. It’s not like I regret going. And I wasn’t being brave, I was just—” 

“Sure, sure. Still can’t sleep unless you know I’m there, huh?” 

Silence stretches over the line. You feel your face grow hot with embarrassment as you stretch your legs out, chin tucked against your chest.  

“Maybe I should just hang up on you,” 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Caleb says more gently. “You can call me as much as you want.” 

“You’re being nice like when we were kids.” You observe. 

Caleb scoffs a little. “I’m always nice.” 

You roll your eyes and Caleb laughs like he knows you did it. It’s quiet again before he speaks. In the voice that makes him feel older than he is. “I’m worried about you so I’m being even nicer than usual. Is that okay?”

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s more to it than he lets on. You trace a pattern into the worn, fabric arm of the chair you sit in. “Why?” 

“I get worried when you go somewhere I can’t see you.” He says agreeably.

Your face tugs into a frown, strangely mortified by the sincerity of it. “It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I’ll be fourteen in a few months.”

Caleb laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be a kid.” 

You huff. “That’s not fair. Does that mean I’ll have to beg you like this to do anything for the rest of my life? You’re too much.” 

“At least until you turn eighteen.” Caleb replies, voice airy and content. “And if you’re still a little weakling then, probably a few more years after that too.” 

You groan. “How terrible. What kind of brother are you? So cruel.” You pause  “You’re more like my dad sometimes.” 

“Since you’re my responsibility, I usually have to act as all three.” Caleb says with ease. “You should get used to it.” 

Despite your grievances, your body relaxes exactly the way you expect as you listen to him talk. You yawn out loud,  sleep making your eyes and limbs heavy. 

“Finally tired?” He asks, voice softened. Doting. It’s so instant, you don’t have the will to fight it. “Go sleep. Make sure you eat tomorrow morning and don’t just wait until noon.” 

“Okay, Gege.” You yawn again. “Goodnight. Love you,” 

A long silence stretches between you. You wonder why he hesitates. “Love you too. Now go to bed. And don’t sneak out without telling your teachers again,” 

“Wait, how did you—” 

“I know everything.” He says dismissively. “Goodnight, okay?” 

You pull back and stare at your phone. He’s a little scary sometimes.

 “Yeah. Okay. Night,” 

__ 

At sixteen, you go experience the first real heartbreak of your life. 

It’s less over the actual relationship and more about the events leading to your break-up. 

Your secret boyfriend of five months kissed one of your closest friends. And you caught them both red-handed. 

It was in the gymnasium after school a few weeks ago. You nearly fist fought them both before getting overwhelmed and simply  running away in tears to a nearby playground. Your two other best friends had to pry you out of a bed of mulch and take you home after wiping your tears. 

You have a list of grievances about the situation. You like (?) the guy but you loved your friend - but now you have neither. And all of it happened for a reason you cannot wrap your mind around at all. 

You’re thankful for your other friends who have taken your side in the matter while still trying to get to the bottom of it. And it’s good having them, but in your time of teenage angst - the one person you’d like to tell absolutely can’t know. 

Not telling your older brother is hard. Keeping the secret makes you feel guilty enough, but it’s made harder when he’s home. And he will be for the next two weeks until he has to go back to the dorms. They’re on some kind of spring break. 

Until then, you make it your mission to keep up appearances. Since the one person you don’t want to find out about your relationship is the person who’d find out the fastest. 

Caleb is strict. Has been for as long as you can remember. Though you’ve never explicitly spoken on dating - he has, more than once, “subtly” warned you about having an interest in the opposite sex. You remember how you made stupid heart-eyes to one of his school friends years back and he still brings it up whenever you ask about him and how he’s doing. As if even wanting to know is some kind of betrayal. 

(And well, maybe you do ask just to see him react like that. It’s…funny. It’s not like Caleb needs to know that.) 

You don’t like keeping secrets from your brother. You’re close. Way closer than most people ever are with their siblings. 

Maybe because Caleb has always taken care of you—he feels less like a sibling you can pointlessly squabble with and more like your guardian at times. 

It’s hard for you to lie to him explicitly so the fact you’ve kept the relationship under wraps for five months is kind of impressive. 

You always told yourself, you’d tell Caleb if it ever got serious. Truthfully though, you didn’t think it was going to last. Didn’t even want to accept until your friends pressured you. 

Your now ex-boyfriend is the one who asked you out, which is what pisses you off the most. He’s one of the popular guys in your grade and he’s…nice. Was nice. You don’t think you’d be sad if he simply broke up with you and went out with your friend. You’d think less of him maybe, but it’s not like you’re in love with him. 

It’s all the other stuff that’s weighing you down. It’s getting into a fight with your friend. It’s getting two-timed by the jackass who asked you out first. One you didn’t even like that much. 

(Maybe not at all.) 

It’s wanting to whine and complain about all of this to your older brother who would take your side but not being able to - because you can’t tell him half truths. You don’t have it in you. You barely have it in you to lie to him.

(Truthfully, you think the only reason you’ve been able to all this time is because you’ve kept said boyfriend at arms length somewhat knowingly. You haven’t had a proper kiss.)

Telling Caleb everything is a long time compulsion you don’t know if you’ll ever unlearn.You don’t know if it’s loyalty or gratitude—only that it makes you feel like a dog whose been leashed to a post for most of your life before it gets unchained. 

Even when you’re no longer shackled to it, you find you can’t go anywhere. Being without it doesn’t free you, not really. You find it goes against what you know to try to escape without hearing the click of metal. 

You stay by the post. You tell Caleb everything. It feels outright wrong to lie about something important. 

(And it’s still hard lying about something unimportant.) 

You’re sure it speaks to the depth of your attachment but you always end up spilling your guts to him. Like a child always wanting to please their parents and behave. You know Caleb will accept you, even if he gets angry. But you don’t actually know how he’ll react and that scares you into not wanting to tell him at all. 

The thought of disappointing him is what makes you most uneasy. 

So, you decide that you’ll take it to the grave. It’s your one half-ass rebellion and these are the natural consequences. As long as you process your friendship grief and wear out your anger - it’ll be smoothed over before you know. 

Meticulously, you time your sessions of grieving and angry debriefing phone calls in the hours Caleb is out of the house. You work hard at keeping up as if nothing is happening in your life at all. You feel an unshakeable feeling of guilt the entire time, one that has you waking up in cold sweat but you ignore it because… well, you don’t really know how to fix it. 

(Truthfully - you’re irrationally worried that he’d leave over something so trivial, and you’d be seven and all alone in the world again. As nonsensical as it is, and as much as you want to pretend otherwise, your attachment to Caleb really matters that much to you.) 

You very nearly make it to the finish line of this plan too. Almost. . 

In the middle of your crying session - you answer a knock on the door and assume it’s Granny (who does, at least partially, know what’s going on). You open it without thinking. 

It’s the last person you want to see in the moment. 

You quickly try to shut the door but Caleb is quicker. Slides his unnecessarily huge body through the small gap and shuts it behind him - trapping you both. You stumble back a little, but he catches you by the wrist to make sure you don’t actually fall. 

You feel like a deer in headlights. Red, water rimmed eyes, runny nose, and face puffy - you try to pull your sleeves over your hands and wipe your face. Even though he’s already seen it. You’re too old to be crying like this in front of him. It’s humiliating. 

Caleb grabs your wrists easily before you can wipe them away. You blink away a few unshed tears to get a better look at his face. You inhale, your chest tight - feet like lead as you look at your older brother. His pinched expression, almost pained but still tender. Still gentle. Just seeing it again makes you want to cry. 

“I knew it,” He says. He drops your hands and instead cups your face with his palm, thumb wiping away tears as he cups your cheek. His expression is firm. “What’s wrong, hm?”

It’s like something in you collapses. 

You give into it without any effort. 

Caleb makes it so easy, after all, to be the weakest version of yourself.

With him, there’s no desire to fight what feels inevitable. So you let yourself fall to nothing in Caleb’s arms and cry. You’re torn up over your first real friendship fight so you let yourself lean on him. Just like you do at seven, and ten, and all the years before. Fist your hand tight in the fabric of his shirt like you’re worried he’ll shake you off, even though he never does.) 

(Later, you’ll remember this conversation and realize that there was never any room for anyone else. It was a kind of teenage naivety to think otherwise. 

You’ll hear the sentiment from everyone you know—friends, colleagues, family: the person you can be weakest with is who you should marry. If only you had known that then, too. Maybe accepting it would’ve been easier. Maybe you would’ve known sooner what feeling you’d spend the rest of your adult life chasing) 

Caleb rests his hand on the back of your head as he tucks your face against his chest. It’s warm and soft. The comforting scent of detergent and cologne, undercut by oil and jetfuel. You wish you could bury yourself in.

You stand and cry like that in silence for a long while. Caleb holds you tight without asking any questions, his chin resting on top of your head, patting your back. 

When you pull away from him, ready to explain - he walks himself over to your bed and sits on it. His expression is unreadable. Concerned but trying not to worry too son. 

With his legs wide, he opens his arms out to you to invite you into his lap the way you did when you were kids. You wonder if he’s joking—trying to make you laugh and cheer you up. 

But in the moment you’re so fragile, you tuck your chin and sit anyway. He stiffens briefly, as if surprised but soon enough, strong arms lay drape your waist as he lets you lean into him.

“Ready to talk about it?” 

You fidget. “Aren’t you busy?” 

He shakes his. “I’m all yours.” 

Your chest feels warm and fluttery when he says it. It soothes you. . 

You sniffle, adjusting in his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks. “You don’t have to,” 

“No, I—” You shift in his lap. “It feels wrong. Not telling you.”

Caleb hums. “You’re at that age. I already know that much. But no matter what I’m on your side, so don’t hide when you’re feeling sad or upset. Okay?” 

“Nn,” You nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s really fine. It’s not like I can really be mad at you, right?” 

You make a small, thoughtful noise. “You say that but you’re unexpectedly good at holding grudges.” 

Caleb laughs. “Hm, that’s true. But not with you.” 

You repeat the words to yourself, half-dizzy with a smile. “Not with me.” 

Caleb smiles at you. He holds you a little tighter. You grab hold of his jacket, white knuckling the fabric until your heartbeat settles. 

“So. Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

__ 

( In the end, you tell Caleb everything from start to finish. 

It’s just as you predicted. Once you start, it’s hard to give him anything but the full truth. Caleb listens to you intently without interjecting. Rests his chin on your shoulders, leaving you with nothing but his body language to pick up on his moods. 

He stiffens when you tell him you had a boyfriend. Calms down when you tell him you didn’t like him very much, that all you did was hold hands and cuddle and you still think it was a waste. 

Caleb listens to it all. Hangs onto your every word until you’ve tuckered yourself out. You think of what they say about how a burden shared is a burden halved and hope that it’s fine to depend on him this much all these years later. 

Caleb is silent and steady for the duration of your talk. Towards the end he tells you: “No boy should ever make you cry. Should I get revenge for you?” 

“Gege,” You say exasperated “And what about boys making me cry? That’s all they do from what I can tell.”

He doesn’t refute that. “ That’s true. It’s better to avoid them, really. If I ever make you cry you though, you can hit me,” He replies. You laugh a little.

“I don’t think you would make me cry without good reason.” 

“If I do, I’ll make sure to repent for my whole life after.” He says, joking. Maybe joking. 

Your cheeks warm  “Your whole life feels like a long time.” 

“Is it? You can’t really get rid of me easily, so I think it makes sense.” 

“I guess that’s true. You can’t get rid of me either, you know.” 

Caleb grins at you. “How lucky.”) 

__

At nineteen, you go to a club in the Linkon entertainment district for the very first time. 

Your friends dragged you here. It’s your first year of the Hunter Academy and your first time living away from home. You’ve spent most of the school year completely focused on training and working towards your goals - trying to  be strong enough to work alongside a certain someone and hold your own. 

You’re not here of your own volition, but honestly? It’s not so bad. Drinking and dancing with your friends proves fun for the first couple of hours at least. 

After that gets old though, really more stressful than anything. 

You aren’t supposed to be here in the first place. That’s the main cause of your current unease. The club is 21+ and it was already an ordeal getting in. The longer you stay, the more restless you feel—the more you want to leave before anyone gets caught up in anything. 

You’ve been knocking back drinks all evening, courtesy of some of your friends - and the night is starting to come to a halt for you internally. All the discomfort and overstimulation go from engaging to overwhelming, and your head is starting to spin.

You’re in the section where you and your friends got invited. Apparently there’s someone tonight who's popular in the nightlife scene - son of some rich business man you think. Your friend has been doing you all the solid of keeping him happy. Your eyes flit over to where they dance on the floor and you feel yourself wince just looking at them. 

Shit, your head is throbbing. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sink back in your seat and think about what the best strategy is to get out of here. 

All of you should go home honestly. There won’t be major consequences for simply being intoxicated, but sneaking into an establishment like this really might affect your ability to graduate. Your academy is not known for its leniency. 

Aside from that, you’re tired. You should have more energy than this. You would normally, you think. But it’s a Friday and you had taken up some extra training since you had no plans to be out. The addition of alcohol dehydrating you and the sharp and particular pain from stiletto heels makes you lethargic. Dead on your feet. 

It’s later in the night but not so late people are leaving. A second wave of attendees are shuffling in now. You have half a mind to mix with the crowd and leave by yourself. It feels like a good idea at least. 

But then, more people are brought to your section. You’re only half-paying attention as the guy from earlier, the one paying for you all, happily introduces the new group to people already sitting. 

“...And Caleb, it’s good to see you. You’re usually too busy to come to things like this,” 

A pair of eyes bore into you. You freeze completely, eyes glued to your phone screen as you catch a glimpse of the one person you absolutely do not want to be meeting here. 

“Yeah,” A familiar voice says. His voice is light like he’s not noticed anything.”I’m glad I came. I’ve already seen some interesting things.” 

The dull throb in your head turns the corner to a sharp pain. A feeling of complete misery washes over you. Truly, the worst possible outcome. You wonder what Caleb is doing here in the first place. From what you know, this isn’t usually his kind of establishment either. Maybe someone from his dorms dragged him here too? You think it’d be something like that. 

You make the mistake of looking up as Caleb slides in opposite to you with a few other friends. His expression is completely unreadable as your eyes meet across the table. He flashes you a smile that makes your nerves stand on end. All you can do is look away, eyes flitting back down your phone. 

A text appears at the top of your screen. 

from cpt big bro (1:03am): nice to see you. 

A feeling of unease immediately feels you, but when you look back up at Caleb - he’s pretending like you don’t even exist.

You don’t know why you feel so guilty in the first place. Sure, you snuck in here but it’s not like you did something unheard of. And you’re past the legal drinking age in the first place. And the clothes weren’t your idea. You’ll tell him that when he inevitably asks. 

You’re not doing anything so wrong but you’re worried he’ll get the wrong idea. 

(A voice in your head asks: what idea? You tell yourself it’d be embarrassing if your brother thought you were looking for a hook-up. It’s reasonable enough.

 You decide not to interrogate the reasoning any further, even when the feeling doesn’t go away.)

You find your gaze falling in your lap as you try to dissolve the overwhelming feeling of shame and upset just knowing Caleb’s seen you like this. 

It’s worse though to have him ignoring you. You know he’s probably doing it for your sake. Even knowing he’s not malicious doesn’t make it much better. Your eyes stay glued to your phone screen. 

You don’t know how much time passes before someone else joins you at the table. 

A woman this time. 

“Caleb! You actually came,” She says over the music. You watch her from your peripherals as she slides in next to him without hesitation. “I thought Kenji was lying to get more girls to show up.” 

You hear him laugh a little. You think he sounds a little uncomfortable, but maybe you’re reading too much into it. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Isn’t that always how that goes?” She hums. Your eyes widen slightly seeing the way she presses herself up against his arm. “But I’m glad you're here. Maybe I can convince you to dance.” 

“You can try,” He says. You know he’s just being amiable. Or at least, you think he’s just trying to be amiable. 

You’ve never really seen Caleb flirt with a girl, so you don’t have a real reference for what does and does not count. 

It’s the first time in all of your life you’ve ever seen Caleb get hit on so closely. You’re used to his popularity of course - but back then, Caleb usually made a point to run away. No one ever got near enough. He’s always been nice about it of course, tries to let people down easy. 

You don’t know the girl who's flirting with him now, but you can tell that they know each other. They’re sitting close, but not enough to be obvious. You can hear them too, though. Hear how she talks to him. It’s not hard to tell that she’s hitting on him. And your brother isn’t reciprocating but he’s not quite turning her down. It doesn’t seem to bother him, enough that when he makes jokes playfully rejecting her - the conversation still doesn’t sour.

They get along, is what you mean. Better than you thought they would. 

Your stomach churns. 

You try not to think about whats making you sick.  But it washes over you all at once. More dizzy  than nauseous. You feel like someone is tying your insides into a coil. The more you try to divert your gaze - the harder it is to ignore it. Caleb glances at you from time to time, but it seems accidental at best. 

Your heart is hammering. You think about how long it’s been since you’ve last seen each other. All the things that have happened while you’re apart. 

When you find you can’t sit and handle anymore, your body makes the decision to leave for you. 

It happens quickly. You stand to your feet, nearly stumbling in your heels as you talk to a friend on the dance floor and make-up a nonsense excuse about needing to leave. She offers to call you a taxi, but by then you’re already making a bee-line to the door and out of the club. 

It’s late when you leave. Your whole body feels like it’s trapped in ice as the unforgiving night air whips your skin and leaves you cold. You stumble down the steps in your heels until you finally make it onto the curb with all the other drunk club-goers trying to get home or sober up.

You’ll flag down a taxi, go home, and pretend nothing happened. You repeat the routine to yourself over and over. 

It feels like the only way you can handle it. Your mind can't process it otherwise. Can’t think too hard on what you might’ve been privy too. 

“Where are you runnin’ off to?” 

You freeze when you hear Caleb’s voice. You have half a mind to break into a sprint but you aren’t sure you can without breaking your ankles with your heels. Another part of you is preening over the fact he came immediately to find you. You turn around and try to walk away briskly - only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you towards him and making you come to a halt. 

“Let me go,” You mumble. 

He holds you a little tighter. 

“Don’t be like that. No matter how much training you have, I know you can’t run in heels so quit it,” Caleb says, with a sigh. “Why’d you run off?” 

“What do you mean why?” You say, words slurring. “Who’d wanna see—hicc—” 

Caleb frowns at you. “Why’re you trying to be tough if you can barely keep yourself standing up straight?” 

He sighs, bending down. You let out a noise as he undoes the strap of your heel. 

“Take them off,” 

You pout. “How am I supposed to walk home like that?” 

“I’ll carry you on my back,” He replies. “Your ankles with have a hard time if you keep wobbling like that,” 

“My feet will get dirty from the pavement.” 

You’re being difficult on purpose. Drunk and upset, arguing with anything he says. Caleb knows this you’re sure but he doesn’t seem to have a reaction to it besides mild exasperation. Despite that though, he still tends to you. 

He makes a face at you before sighing. You watch as he slides his jacket off of his shoulders and drapes it over you. It’s oversized on him, even more so on you.  It fits more like a dress and covers more than your outfit does. 

When you’ve slipped your arms through it, he drops down onto his knees and undoes the other strap of your heel. He turns around after that, signalling for you to get on his back. You want to refuse him but you find you don’t have the words to do so. You comply with his request, putting your arms around his neck as he lifts you with frightening ease. 

He bends down with you on his back to pick your heels up and carry them.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me anything?” You mumble. Caleb sighs. It makes you bite your lip. 

“It can wait a bit.”  

“Hmph.”

You find you have nothing left to argue with him. You give up on trying to refuse and let him carry you, both hands lifting you up as you keep your arms around his neck. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, worried your makeup will smear on it. 

You don’t know how long you walk. Your eyes are closed for the duration of it and you only open them again when you sense a change of lighting. The noise of an automatic door and a tired greeting alarms you. You feel embarrassed, suddenly, at the idea that someone else has seen you like this. 

Caleb just greets them as normal.

“Aren’t you gonna let me down already?” 

“Are you feeling uncomfortable?” 

“No, but—”

He doesn’t respond to you further. You get the impression there’s not much meaning to continue arguing so you keep quiet. 

You watch from over his shoulder as he roams the aisles until he comes across cheap pairs of slippers and socks - next to other random household items. He picks the correct size without asking you. Seeing it only adds to the strange feeling you’ve had since leaving the club. 

He goes to self check-out, pays for the sandals, then carries you to one of the few seats and table near the window of the 7/11. Carefully, he sets you down on one, your heels on another, then silently opens the packaging. He drops to his knees and looks up at you in silent question. 

“You don’t need to—” 

He doesn’t say anything when you attempt to refuse him. Keeps quiet  and just waits for you, not unkindly. You frown and hold your foot out to him. He rolls each sock carefully onto your feet, pulling them all the way up over your ankle before the slippers follow. 

“Do they fit okay?”

“Mm,” 

You nod. Caleb hums. Holds his hand out. 

“C’mon. Pick out something to eat or drink so you sober up a bit,” 

“While we talk?” You ask, voice suddenly small. He pauses, smiles just barely, and pats your head with the same firm hand he always does. It makes you want to cry. 

“Yeah. While we talk.” 

You nod as Caleb helps you off the seat. “I’ll go get some water.” 

“Okay,” 

You think of what you want to eat. Childhood memories whisper answers to you. Chips and candy - sweet and salty so you have balance. You remember the way Caleb would cut into his own snack budget for you to get what you wanted. He’d pretend to complain, but he’d smile at you while you ate. 

You pick the same things you used to. You wonder if he’ll notice. 

He returns with two bottles of water. “Did you finish choosing?” 

You nod. His eyes drift to your hands. He cracks another smile that makes you happier then it should.

“I see. Let’s check out then, hm?” 

Your heart flutters. You follow him quietly. He goes to the cashier the second time around - amiable, friendly and easing some unspoken tension. Apologizes for the inconvenience and, with familiar diligence, asks if there’s a recycling bin for him to toss trash nearby. The cashier offers to do it for him. 

Afterwards, he holds his hand out to you like it’s only natural for you to want to hold it. You take it. 

Of course, you do. 

He guides you outside, and the two of you sit on the curb. An expectant look appears on his face when he dusts off place beside him where he’s hoping you’ll sit. You do, knees touching -  folding your hands into your lap. He opens the bottle of water and hands it to you. 

“We could’ve just shared one,” You offer.

“I’m not so stingy,” Caleb says.. You purse your lips. You want to tell him that’s not what you mean, but you don’t want to ask yourself what you do mean. 

You take it from him and drink. 

Silence stretches over the seemingly endless night. The streets of Linkon prove to be busy and limitless. Given the district you’re in, you’d expect it to be more packed - but the streets are desolate. Proof of life resides in the lights of buildings and clubs but now, here—it feels like you’re the only two people left in the world. 

It’s quiet for a long while. You sit like that until you break the ice. 

“You still haven’t asked me anything.” 

“Well,” Caleb looks at you from the corner of his eyes and shrugs, taking a drink. “I can kind of guess why you were there in the first place. Don’t have much of a clubbing spirit, you know. Your friends probably told you to go right?” 

You nod.“You’re not upset?” 

“Mm,” Caleb sighs. “Not at you for just going. It’s hard to be mad at you especially when you…” He trails off, an almost imperceptible smile on his. He shakes his head before continuing and you miss the window to ask about what that was all about. He glances at you again. “Your dress is too short, though.” 

You feel heat crawl up your skin. “It’s not that bad. And I’m nineteen,” 

“So? You’re still my baby sister. Naturally I won’t approve, right? You know that much.”

You bend over your knees, pouting. You feel weirdly happy but try not to think about it. “You’re so unreasonable sometimes.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I’m being very reasonable right now,” 

“...Mm.” 

Tension lingers in the air. You open the chips Caleb got you and tilt it his way. A peace offering. He takes one. 

“Why’d you run off?” 

You make a face. Will yourself to not cry as you tuck your chin. 

“...I dunno.” 

He glances at you. You miss the knowing expression on his face. “Even if you were doing a good job of lying, you know that wouldn’t work on me right? Did something happen? Something you can’t tell me?” 

“Nothing happened but you—”

Caleb interjects. “Me? So it’s because of me then.” 

You bite your tongue. Caleb is lost in thought. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin your night showing up. Didn’t know you’d even be there. It’s not like I’m mad or anything.” Caleb starts. 

“It’s not that,” You say quickly. The frustration just thinking about it makes your throat well up. You can feel it. You drink water trying to wash it down. 

“Then?” 

It slips out of you, exasperated as you sit up and turn to look up at him. 

“You were ignoring me,” You say, voice wet and shaky - hands fisted at your knees, shoulders tight. You still haven’t sobered up much. Your lips curl into a frown. Caleb is stunned into silence. “You didn’t even… I thought you were mad at me. And then that girl sitting next to you was—”

You stop yourself. Caleb looks at you wide-eyed. Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again soon after. He processes what you’ve said slowly, though he doesn’t seem surprised by all of it. 

“I wasn’t mad at you. Surprised, but not so mad. Even if I were mad, I wouldn’t ignore you. It’d make more sense for me to drag you out myself, don’t you think?” 

You huff. “It felt like you were mad at me. And—”

You want to ask. Who was she? Why was she so close to you? Why didn’t you push her away? Do you like her? 

Nothing comes out right. You bite your lip. “That girl… was she your friend?” 

Caleb stops. He looks awkward all of a sudden. “Huh? No, no. She’s my senior. She has someone else she likes,” 

“She was hitting on you,” You say bluntly, sticking your feet out. “And you didn’t stop her.” 

For a brief moment, you swear he looks amused. His expression settles again quickly. “I know she’s not being serious so I didn’t feel like there was any point causing a rift.” 

“She’ll get the wrong idea. If you don’t turn her down properly and just let her—” Be all over you. Touch you so close. Get in your space. “...flirt with you.” 

A beat. “You think I should turn her down properly then?” 

It hangs in the air. You want me to turn her down?

You bite the inside of your lip. “Yeah.” 

“Will it make you feel better?” 

Your eyes meet. For a brief second you feel like someone has stolen all the air from your lungs in one go. You look down. 

“Yeah,” 

Caleb’s breath hitches just a touch before he speaks. “Okay.” 

He opens his arm up to invite you closer and slot into his side the way you used to. Blinking wetly, you scoot across the concrete and tuck yourself under the safety of his arm. Your face is close to his chest. He smells like cologne and iit makes your heart beat feel erratic. His hand comes up to stroke your head and you let him soothe you like you have so many times before. 

“No matter what happens, there’s nothing you could do or say that’d make me angry enough to ignore you. I’d never ignore you if I didn’t think you wanted me to,” 

“I never want you to ignore me, ever.” You say immediately. “Never ever.” 

He chuckles. The way it reverbs in your body makes you dizzy. “Okay, princess. Noted. Do you wanna sit a little longer or should I call a car for you?” 

You tuck into his side. It’d be nice if you never had to leave him ever again. Pressing into him, your words muffle in the fabric of his shirt. You tug at the hem. 

“Wanna stay here. Just for a bit.” 

He hesitates above you. But a while later, you feel his lips at the crown of your head - right at your hairline. His voice is gentle. “Sure. As long as you want,” 

__

At twenty-two, you often dream of your older brother. 

At first, it’s grief. Caleb dies not long after your birthday and in the months that pass - the warm memories of your childhood seem to follow you into sleep. Some nights, it feels kind to see him. In your dream, you run into his arms and he holds you tight when you tell him you missed him.

Grief holds the rest of you hostage. You want for nothing and think of nothing except your brother. You miss Grandma too, of course you do. 

But there’s nothing in the entire world like a brother. Like your brother—who you could ask anything of. It’s hard to unpack the loneliness you feel. Hard to explain it to other people. 

In the months you correct yourself from saying have to had—and watch peoples eyes change into one of sorrow and pity. At the worst of it, you can’t even pretend to think of that as a kindness. Can’t even thank them for being nice. At the worst of your grief, you find yourself especially angry at being pitied. You look at people and want to say they don’t understand. They don’t know what you lost. There are no words that make it digestible. You bite your tongue, give a tight-lipped smile. 

What you wanted to say was this: How dare you act like you understand what I lost? How dare you feel sorry when you don’t know the half of it? My brother is dead. A piece of me is missing.

You never say any of it. You bury the words in the black vast of your grief and throw yourself at finding answers. 

Your feelings about the incident change the more you find out. About Grandma and the abomination in your heart—and you cycle from anger to sorrow to unease.

They never change about Caleb though. The apparition of him, warm and broad, cycles through your dreams every now and again. Some nights, you wake up expecting to be seven years old again—clinging to your older brother, the only thing you know in the world that’s made you lose everything. 

Most nights, you wake up from dreamless sleep and feel yourself wanting to cry. 

(You don’t cry often when he’s gone, even when you should. 

Who would be there to hold you now when you do?) 

When you finally see Caleb again, see him alive—your emotions become just as complicated as your mind has been in the months of his absence. 

You’re ecstatic, you’re angry, you’re terrified, you’re so so sad. You are all of these things at the same time. 

And then, you realize that the death of Caleb did not only change you. Your older brother comes back to you. He’s warm, kind, and gentle sometimes. But it’s not the same. There’s something about him, inexplicable, that is changed forever. 

Caleb dies and comes back wrong—but this only strengthens your resolve. To do what, exactly? You aren’t sure. You don’t know what you want and you still know nothing about the Aether Cores. Or about what Caleb does. 

All you do  know is that your older brother has come back to you, and you are empty without him. You’d rather have him wrong than not have him at all. You’ll fix him or become wrong with him before you ever let go of him again.

(Even the way he is now, sometimes, he seems worried about ruining you. You want to say sometimes—then ruin me. You know what he’d say if you did. He knows he’d tell you to watch your tongue and not to say what you don’t mean.

You’ve thought about it, though. You’d rather that then he disappear again. You’d rather you know what's going on then not. ) 

Things have changed. Caleb has changed.

You have changed, most of all. 

When you hear from Caleb for the first time he no longer wants to be your brother - that he’s tired from playing house with you, your first reaction is devastation. The memory of that dread is so strong, you still feel it when you replay it all in your mind. Caleb above you, caging you in, unreadable—no longer what you know. 

You don’t think about anything. You can’t. It destroys you completely to hear him say it. Makes you want to cling to him and beg. Cry loudly enough to wake the version of him that did want to be your brother. That loved you unconditionally. 

When you have to go the next morning and find a memory of your childhood tucked away - you realize not all of him is lost to you. That the parts of him you loved so dearly have not entirely disappeared. 

So you stay, and try to mend the broken pieces of your relationship back together.

At twenty-two, you often dream of your brother. 

When he comes back to you, you think you’ll be given one more dream before he disappears. You figure the real thing is back in your hands. It’ll go back to the way it was before, where your sleep is long and dreamless but that’s fine. As long as you can wake-up and see the sun, without feeling like yours was stolen from you—anything is fine. 

At twenty-two, even after you learn he’s alive, you often dream of your brother. 

The first time you ever have a wet dream of Caleb is just after he comes back to Linkon. 

After you sit in the garden with Caleb and blow the hydrangea petals away from his face, and his hand comes up to touch you. After he promises to take good care of the flower he takes back to SkyHaven. After he tells you there was no way he’d be able to stay away from you. 

When you sleep the night after he returns home, you dream of Caleb again. 

This time you’re in your bedroom—the one from your childhood home, that Caleb spent so many years taking up space in. You dream of your brother on top of you and you both look a little younger. His face contorted with pleasure, and your hand being the one to give it to him. The image missing from the waist down, all you can see is the clear view of him over you. Making it so obvious what you’re doing. Doing together.  

You wake up from your dream with a feeling like something’s crushing your chest. A wheezing breath as you struggle to calm down. A distinct feeling of wetness between your legs that cling to your PJs when you stumble into your bathroom - trying to relieve yourself and being confronted with the reality of what just happened. 

The first time you have a wet dream about Caleb—you only feel shame. You tell yourself that it’s a fluke, and that dreams are meaningless anyway. It makes you violated to think of him like that. You can’t control what you do in your sleep. You decide not to dwell. 

Weeks pass and you see Caleb again. You share fruit and more conversation, and the following night - you have another wet dream. This one, more vivid than the last. Different. You dream of Caleb with a baton to your neck and the tension in the room when he caged you in his arms. In your dreams he’s cruel as he drags the metal end down your body, pushes it against your—

You wake up the next morning almost inconsolable. 

The cycle repeats for as long as you see him. Every time Caleb appears in your life, you dream of him the next night. You wake up in shock, wet down your legs and spend all morning trying to suppress it down as far as you can. 

You tell yourself all sorts of things when it happens. You reason with yourself. Dreams are nonsense. You can’t control them. It’s your brother. You don’t think of him like that.

(You think of all the times you’ve seen him since he’s returned. All the ways his eyes soften for you, all the ways his hands linger—how ever since he’s denied being your brother at all, you think of what that might make you now. 

It breaks your heart to not have him as your brother. Your precious family. An unbreakable bond. The one you love most. He touches you the way brothers aren’t supposed to, and you remind yourself of what you can’t have. You remind yourself of what loss you would feel first.

He always looks pained when he touches you like that, though. And, for some strange reason, sometimes you want to tell him: Did you know I dreamt of you touching me? So you don’t need to make that face. Like you’re wrong. My dreams couldn’t make you this gentle.)

The harder you try to force it down, the harder it is to pretend it’s nothing. You push and push and push—but each time you see him, the cycle repeats.

Eventually, it’s too hard to pretend. You refuse to name it, or think about it—but when you let your mind stop forcing it so deep into your subconscious, it’s easier to reconcile. 

It doesn’t go away. But your skin prickles with embarrassment, and you sigh, and you move on from it. Even if the dreams don’t stop, you can go on about your day when you leave it all alone.

You think maybe, if you and Caleb never saw each other again, it might even work to rid you of the dreams completely.

But he’s your brother—your precious family, the one you love most. You see him all the time. Whenever your schedule allows it, he’s the first person you check with to see if you can come spend time with him. Even if he can’t be with you, you stay over at his place to eat his food and watch TV on his expensive flatscreen. 

It makes you feel like you live together again. 

(You try not to reel at the thought. It’s normal for siblings to stay together from time to time. It’s like a sleep over. That’s all.) 

So it’s not unusual for you anymore to drop by his place. You even have a key. 

(Your key, you think. Caleb put a stupid green apple cover on the top part of it. It’s for you, and only you.) 

Even when you do come over, sometimes you only see him at night. You have little conversations before you need to go to sleep (or rather, when he makes you go to sleep.) But it still feels better than only seeing him sometimes. 

So it’s not unusual for you to be here in your PJs and watching something stupid while draped on Caleb’s couch. 

It is unusual, however, to have him come home so soon.

PART TWO: SO ONLY SAY MY NAME, IT WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

You pick your head up as soon as you hear the security system for Caleb’s apartment announce someone at the door. The time reads 6:56pm.

Heavy footfall makes you pick yourself up, crawling to the edge of the couch and standing on your knees to catch sight of him. You lean forward. 

“You’re home early.”

It takes him a second to register who's talking, but he smiles slightly when he does. Turnt towards the doors, he’s leaned against a wall as he undoes the laces of his steel-toed boots. 

“So are you,”

You give him a melodic hum. “I got off since we have a holiday. I have Monday off too.” 

“Yeah? That’s good. You should try to rest up some,” 

“I will. Gotta catch up on my shows first though,” You reply thoughtfully. “I’m like half-way through ‘em.” 

“Workin’ hard I see. Try not to over-exert yourself.” He adds, playfully sarcastic. You nod. 

You answer him in silly earnest. “Of course. I’m more relaxed here so don’t worry.” 

He pauses as he finally stands back up. You see him at the other side of the room with a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

You feel something in your stomach that you choose to ignore. “Yeah. Plus I don’t have to eat my own groceries.” 

“It’s better you eat mine than me wasting them,” He says with a shrug. 

“How generous of you.” 

“Right?” 

You lean forward, resting more of your weight on the couch. “Did they just send you home early too? Or is it some special Colonel privilege?” 

You see him shake his head as he slides off his coat and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a plastic bottle of water out of it before taking a few long drinks. 

“Mm, kinda the first.” He says thoughtfully. “I got injured in the field today, had to go to the infirmary. It’s a minor injury but I checked in with my commanding officer and he told me I might as well go home.” 

You frown. “What kind of injury?” 

“It’s really fine,”

“Caleb.” 

He sighs, turning towards you. The open fridge door illuminates him. “Just got a bruise along my thigh from how I fell. Nothing broken.” He says. You’re still frowning at him. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“How can you be fine if they sent you home?” 

“It’s not like that,” 

“I don’t believe you,” You say petulantly. Caleb shuts the fridge door with his hip as he laughs. 

“What, you want me to show it to you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s on my thigh. I’d have to take off my pants,” He says, laughing. He joins you on the couch - sitting where you were laying—eyeing you while he waits for you to come join him. You narrow your eyes suspiciously but crawl over to him anyway, sitting beside him with your legs up. “Unless you’re really just wanting me to strip, promise it’s fine. I’ve had it worse,”

“That’s not a good thing. If it were me you’d be freaking out already and fussing over me.” 

“It’s different,” 

“Is not,” 

“Is too. My little sisters still a bit of weakling, see—if I don’t take good care of her she’ll end up hurting herself even worse,” Caleb says, voice high. 

“I’m not even weak. Maybe not as strong as you but not weak.” 

“When you get stronger than me, we can talk about who gets to worry about who,”  He says, flicking your forehead lightly. You pretend to flinch at the injury. 

“You let me do whatever I want except worry about you.” 

“You got it. Glad you’re getting up to speed.” 

You elbow him. Caleb laughs. 

You sit back with your knees to your chest, frowning. Caleb leans back, arm stretched on the back of the couch. Inching closer to him subconsciously, your brow furrows as you think about his injury. 

It’s like he reads your mind.

“You’re really worried about it.” He murmurs.

You purse your lips. “No shit.” 

“Don’t cuss,” 

“I’m twenty-two!” 

“So?” He raises his eyebrow. 

“You make me want to strangle you sometimes.” 

“If you succeed I’ll be impressed.”

You glare at him. “I’ll make sure to wait until you’re fully recovered so it counts,” 

He relaxes into the couch, eyes filled with mirth. “Smart move.” 

“You’re still in your outside clothes. Don’t you want to wash up first?” 

“Do I smell bad?” 

“No, that’s not it. But if you get too comfortable, you might not want to get up to do it, you know?” 

“I’m not like a certain someone, so I’m not worried about that.” Caleb says. You huff as he continues on. “I just wanted to sit with you for a bit first. Is that not okay?” 

“I didn’t say all of that. Don’t put words in my mouth, jeez.” 

He hums. “Just checking,” 

Comfortable quiet  settles between you as Caleb sits and watches your drama with you intently.

You relax further into the couch as you settle back in, once again engrossed in your show. It’s a period and fantasy drama about a once noble woman getting married against her will to a supposedly cruel emperor. Crude description aside, it has high political stakes, violence, and good writing. 

The romance aspect of the show was what drew you in more-or-less, but it’s a slowburn between the main couple. You’ve mostly been watching for the high-tension plot. It captures both your attention and seemingly Caleb’s too. 

“Wait,” Caleb interrupts half-way through an episode. “I want to watch the rest with you but I need to shower,” 

You smile at him. “It’s good right? It’s not a lot of romance but there’s other stuff. We can watch it together after you wash-up and maybe…we can have a drink together.” 

“You’re so interested in that,” 

“I want to know what kind of drunk you are. It’s not fair you’ve seen me drunk and I haven’t,” 

“Pfft,” He rubs your head with hand, amused. “What kind of reason is that? But you know what? Sure. Order whatever you want with my card while I go shower.” 

“Yay!” 

You pause the TV as Caleb stands up and stretches, fishing for his wallet and passing you his card. Snatching it from between his fingers, you give him a mischievous look that makes him laugh. 

“Go shower,” 

“I am, I am,” He holds his hands up. “I’ll be quick,” 

__

You watch your drama late into the evening. 

You drink casually with Caleb as you binge watch the final few episodes of the season you started on. You take a break later in the night to have dinner delivered to you, but afterwards - you decide to keep watching. 

Caleb wasn’t lying when he told you he holds his drink well. You’ve both been knocking them back since eight pm. Even with the time to sober up in between, he seems like he hasn’t had a single thing to drink the entire time. 

You feel far from wasted, a warm meal in your stomach settling some of inebriation - but you still feel somewhat tipsy. At least enough to have that pleasant, warm, loose-limbed buzzed. You’re sober enough that Caleb doesn’t get on your case about drinking enough water - though you sure it’ll be a different story in another hour or two if it keeps going. 

Half-past midnight - you’re two episodes deep into the third season of your drama. 

Relaxed, you’re half-way draped on Caleb - legs in hips lap and nursing another cheap can of beer. After several episodes of action and violence - the story is starting to get back to the romance aspect for the main couple. 

Maybe it’s your fault for not thinking it through, but you’re really not expecting a graphic sex scene to play so soon after so much high plot. 

In the first place, it doesn’t start out like a sex scene. The main character went to go visit her injured husband after he returned from battle. Sweet, you thought. Maybe you’d get to see them have some intense, longing eye-contact like they’ve been having for a while now. 

You aren’t sure when exactly it takes a left turn. You’re tipsy and comfortable and warm. On your phone looking things up on social media. 

They kiss once, then twice before a breathy moan cuts through the comfortable.  

Before you can scramble to find the remote and scrub through it, the scene changes instantly in temperature. A few tepid kisses rapidly go from chaste to deep, all tongue and teeth. 

Near full blown nudity flashes across your T.V. screen as a strange heat creeps up your neck. You feel like you’ve had enough mental torment when you see the male lead kiss his way down the female leads neck. It’s more uncensored then you thought. 

Your voice is trembling a little. “We should uhm,” You swallow thickly. “Where’s the remote..?” 

Caleb feels a little… different. He seems startled hearing you speak, looking at you with lidded eyes. “Not sure. Think you had it last,”

“Oh, right. I don’t,” Another moan rips through the tension between you. It takes your full body effort not to jump. “....really remember where I put it,” 

“You want me to help you look?” 

You blink at him. “I mean… we should, probably look for it. Since, uhm… you know.” 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Caleb interrogates. You stare at him. 

“You aren’t?” 

Caleb is quiet for a long time, like he’s thinking hard about the answer. 

“I feel fine,” Is what he says after what feels like forever. 

“You feel… fine.” 

He nods without looking at you. “We can skip it if you want. Probably have to get up to find the remote, though.”

You sink back in the couch, your face feeling warm. “It’s fine, then.” 

You’re a little startled as the couple on T.V starts to really have sex - at least more than foreplay. It’s not full frontal, but the sounds and angles are enough to get the point across. Caleb just… watches. Relaxed.

“You sure?” He offers, glancing at you again. “It’s fine if it’s too much for you,” 

Frowning, you sit up slightly. “What do you mean too much for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re saying it like you’re used to it,” 

Caleb gives you another glance. Assess you once or twice before looking back at the T.V. 

“Does it matter if I am or I’m not?” 

You find yourself at a loss for words. Is he used to this? That can’t be the case, right? 

“You never dated anyone when we were growing up.” 

Caleb nods. “You don’t really need to date someone for something like that, though it’s better that way.” 

You find yourself shocked by his answer. He’s changed a lot, you know that but—

But it feels wrong. You can’t imagine him just hooking up with someone and having a one-night stand. He’d only ever do it with a girlfriend. So if he has any experience, it’d have to be with someone like that. 

He smiles at you. “You’re making a scary face.” 

You look up at him, unsure of what face you should be making. The question slips out before you can stop to think about whether or not you should even ask it. 

“So are you… used to it?” 

He pauses before leaning in. “This is the second time you’ve asked,” 

“That’s…” 

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing someone’s little sister should ask their older brother right?” 

You snap your mouth shut. Caleb leans a little closer. “Right?” 

“You’re not answering,” You whisper. Your foreheads touch.

“Is there a specific answer you’re looking for?” Caleb says. 

Your eyes widen, teeth pressing against your lip as you tear your gaze away from his face. . “No,” 

“Is that what my answer should be or are you answering what I just asked?” 

You don’t give him a reply. 

Caleb lets out a soft breath of laughter before he finally seems to decide he’s teased you enough. He gets like this more and more lately. Most times you cool off from it quickly but… 

You aren’t sure what drives you to make a move. What makes you tug him back to you by the front of his shirt when he tries to pull away. If it’s the alcohol, or the jealousy that makes you do it. It’s hard to say what the source of your heart pumping so hard is—only that it’s all Caleb’s doing. 

Your hands fist in the front of his shirt as you drag him forward and kiss him as hard as you possibly can, only barely avoiding biting down with your teeth. Chaste but harsh, you press your lips together with nothing but pure desperation, air pushing hard through your lungs as you do. For a minute or two, longer than a kiss should last. 

And then, you pull away. Out of breath like you just ran a marathon, cheeks hot and flushed. Your first kiss that you initiated.  It’s almost mundane. 

Embarrassed, your first instinct is to jump off the couch and lock yourself in the bathroom. But Caleb knows you. Even better than you know yourself. 

He catches your wrist as he leans towards you. His expression is unreadable. 

“You kissed me,”  He says, completely entranced. “You did right? I didn’t just dream that?” 

“It’s your imagination. You must be drunk,” 

He laughs good naturedly. “Maybe I am.” 

Your frown deepens. How do you refuse him when he acts like that? 

Your heart feels like a jackhammer against your ribcage. You can’t. You really can’t. You shouldn’t have—

“I didn’t mean to k-kiss you,” 

Blatant heartache fills his eyes. It feels like something is crushing your chest. “Is that so?” 

You squeeze your eyes, relenting only a little. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t.”

Caleb scoffs “Why? Because you see me as your brother?” 

“You are my brother.  You are and you always will be, and I don’t want to lose that. I can’t, I can’t. You’re—” 

“Why can’t you?” His voice is raw, almost desperate. Trying so hard to understand you. It makes you hurt seeing him like that. “What can I do to become more to you?” 

“You’re already`—” Everything to me. “You’ll always be the most important person to me.” 

His hands grip tighter, devastation darkening the familiar aura of warmth you’ve come to love. Like he’s at the precipice of something considering what he should do. It takes him a while to come upon answers. Staring at you so desperately before closing his eyes, loosening his grip like he’s ready to let you go.

He looks like he makes a choice then. Really makes one. You can already predict what’ll do. What smile he’ll give you but it feels different from other times.

You hold onto him before he can, hand fisted in his shirt. He startles again, softens, not agitated despite how wishy-washy you’re being.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” You say, so quietly it almost evades you both. “But I don’t want to lose you as my brother if we become more than that.” 

Silence falls between you. 

“You won’t lose me,” He replies, gently and easily. Your eyes meet. It’s nice. “I want to be everything to you, remember? All of it. I want you to only think of me for the rest of our life. For us to only need each other. You don’t need to give anything up. When have I ever said no to you?” 

You turn away from him, shaking your head. “You said that you never saw me as family, that you wouldn’t be—” 

Caleb stops you. “I want to be everything to you. Everything. I want us to only need each other. I had to make you understand. From the start, I never intended to give anything up for anyone else.”

“But that’s…” 

“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” He says, reading your mind. “I’m asking what you want. Tell me who you want me to be. I’ll do all of it for you. 

You glance down, away from him - guilt, remorse, fear. You’re resolve is wavering, but you’re too afraid to say it out loud. 

His voice softens. A hand, big and warm and kind, cups your cheek. You know. Know every scar, every touch. 

“Tell your big brother what you want and he’ll give it to you.” 

Something in you shatters. The weak resistance you’ve been trying to hold onto so desperately, denying yourself of what you’ve wanted deep down all this time. Having it offered to you, handed to you—proves to be too much. It all comes tumbling down. 

Your voice comes out like a whine. Your dependency more than shows. 

“Touch me,” You gasp, voice wet with tears. Caleb cracks a slight smile. “Touch me, please—want you so bad. Don’t want anyone else to have you.” 

Caleb looks elated. Adoring. Madly and terribly in love. 

“What a crybaby, hm?” He pulls away from you, standing up before scooping you in his arms “Here. Hold onto me. I’ll carry you,” 

“Caleb, I’m too—” 

He stops you. “I have a bionic arm. Don’t say you’re too heavy. It could carry ten of you.” 

He keeps good on his promise. You wrap your arms around Caleb’s neck as he picks you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, a gasp leaves your mouth as his hands rest under your thighs - lifting you as he walks you to his room. It reminds you of when you were little though a lot has changed since then. 

The realization makes you nervous. 

“The TV is still playing.” You mumble..

“You won’t be able to hear it from my room,” 

“This is embarrassing,” 

“You’ll live.”  Caleb hums. 

“I hate you,” 

Caleb opens his bedroom door with his hip and closes it the same way, walking you to the end of his bed and dropping you on to his mattress. He leans over you, hands on either side of your thighs to keep himself up - inches away from your face. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’ll make me sad.” He says sweetly.

You pout. “Sorry,” 

He laughs a little. “It’s okay,” 

This close to you, you feel a strange warmth glow your whole body. You crane your neck up to kiss him chastely, pulling away and feeling shy again. 

“You taste like beer,” 

Caleb stares at you for a long time, smiling slightly. Dazed. “Should I go brush my teeth?” 

You look down, away from his face, your hands fiddling with the ends of his shirt. “No…” 

He presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing. “How can you be so cute, hm?” 

“Quit that,” You whine.

“If you get this embarrassed just hearing you’re cute, you’ll have a hard time later on.” 

You blink up at him owlishly. He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m barely holding it together, you know?” 

You look up at him. 

“What do you wanna do to me?” 

His eyes seem to dilate.  “Don’t ask me that,” 

“Tell me. I want to know,” 

He laughs breathlessly. “That’s unfair,” 

“I don’t have to be fair with you,” You say petulantly. “Tell me,” 

“I’ve spoiled you too much.” Caleb says, faux regret. “Even if you get scared, you can’t run away.” 

“I won’t get scared,” 

“Really?” Caleb hums. He moves to the side, his mouth next to your ear - voice barely audible. He puts his hands over yours as he towers over you. “You sound confident, but you know—I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. So badly that it scares me just thinking about it. Can you handle that?” 

It’s a confession you think, as much as it’s dirty talk. He pulls back and you’re face to face again. 

“I’m not scared of you. Even if you can’t control yourself I won’t be scared.” You tell him, headstrong as always.

His smile falters. “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“I know you like to call me a weakling but you know I’m not really made of my glass,” You stare at him, eyes tracing over his features. “It’ll be hard for you to break me in one go. Might’ve be fun,” 

He tsks. “Don’t talk like that. I’d prefer to treasure you.” 

You look at him for a long time quietly. 

“I dreamt of you.” 

“Hm?” 

You feel your face flush, but for some strange reason - you have an urge to tell him. The words come easy. Maybe you’ve just been waiting for a reason to confess. 

“Of you touching me,” Caleb’s eyes go wide. You smile a little. “Used to dream of you when you were, you know… but it wasn’t the way I dream of you now.” 

“How do you dream of me now?” His voice is strained. 

“They’re dirty dreams,” You say, fidgeting. “Sometimes I’m touching you and making you feel good. But most of the time, it’s you doing whatever you want to me.” 

His voice is hoarse. “Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You lock eyes. You can see it in him. It almost feels cruel, but you’re not saying it to tease him. “I had a wet dream about when you were interrogating me. You were being mean in that one. Really mean,” 

“I already said sorry about that,” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” 

He swallows. “Oh,” 

“Yeah, oh.” You slide your hand up his arms, squeezing the back of his biceps as he leans over you. Look up at him with mutual love. “I’ll only say it once so please listen carefully: I’m fine with anything if it’s you.” 

It’s unexpected when Caleb tackles you to the bed. Not to kiss you, rather—but to hug you. You squeal as you both drop onto the mattress with your legs hanging off the edge. Caleb’s full weight crushes you, trapping you in his arms. You find yourself laughing a little, giggly as you feel him squeeze you tight enough to crush you.

“You’re squishing me, Caleb.” 

He laughs breathlessly, rolling you both to the side. Pulling away with your face inches apart, he beams. 

“Do you know that I’m crazy about you? Or do you say things like that not even knowing?” 

“I don’t know,” You say, burying your face against his chest. “I just know you take good care of me. I want to take good care of you too,” 

A spectrum of emotions pass through Caleb’s features at once at the admission. It’s the most vulnerability he’s ever shown you.

His body stiffens. He takes a deep breath before pulling away from you. You watch him innocently as he pushes himself up closer to the headboard. Rolling onto your stomach, you stare at him as he rolls onto his side. 

“More comfortable this way, right?” 

Consider without trying, your face warms. Caleb’s voice is whisper soft. “C’mere.” 

You push yourself up until you’re closer to him, legs no longer hanging off the edge.

Within his reach, Caleb’s hand find your waist. He’s strong, you forget it all too easily—until he’s manhandling you to be in his grasp. Careful but demanding. Rolling on his back, he pulls you onto his lap until you’re straddling him. 

The view proves too much for you both. His face is pink. A sheepish smile on his face. 

“Regretting it?” 

You shake your head quickly, careful not to rest your weight on his lap. He rests one of his hands on your thigh, closer to your knee and steals a glance at you. 

Like this, you become aware of him for the first time. Consciously, as if he’s become a completely different person. All the things you’d never allow yourself to consider, slowly draw into focus. Like seeing him with a new set of eyes.

You notice every detail. Sparking arousal and curiosity, you put your hand on his chest and just stare. Unconsciously, your fingers reach for the dog-tag necklace you gifted him - straightening it. Metal warmed underneath your fingertips, you center it on his shirt. At the dip of his muscles where his chest is. 

Fitted tank-top shows off enough to give you an idea of what’s underneath. Smooth, alabaster skin. Muscles bulking underneath the ribbed cotton - soft and supple from lack of tension, rising and falling with each breath. Your thumb smooths over the silly apple-shaped pendant, the raised letter of the dogtags. The brief skin to skin makes the air feel electric. 

You do it unthinkingly, really. Following your instinct, you rest your hand on his chest before sliding them up closer to his neck. Defined clavicles, the long  column of his throat and how it leads to the angled curve of his jaw. Eventually, your hand finds his face. His boyish features—handsome but youthful. Caleb leans into the touch. His usual, playful teasing nowhere to be found. It makes you jolt in surprise. His expression is painted by desire, a rosy flush to what's an otherwise perfect face. 

His voice grows thick. An octave deeper than you’re used to. “Having fun?” 

“Nn,” You shift under the weight of his gaze. “Sorry,” 

“S’fine,” He says, pressing his cheek to your palm. “You can touch me however you want.” 

Hearing it embarasses you. But your reply comes quickly. “You too,” 

Caleb smiles shakily. His hand slides up your thigh. It’s slight, barely there. His hands are trembling. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“We’ve kissed before,” 

He shakes his head. “It won't be like before.” 

“I don’t have any experience,”

Caleb laughs breathlessly. “I don’t care.” 

You frown, but let yourself fall forward. Suddenly inches apart, your eyes widen. Caleb is staring at you this time. His eyes soaking in your expression, gaze falling onto your lips and staying there. They flicker back to yours for silent permission. 

You meet his eyes completely assured. He swallows and cranes his neck, his hand coming up to your face to cradle it. His thumb traces your lips, inching himself closer and closer. You can hear his breath. Feel it on your face from how close you are. 

Cupping your nape, he presses his lips to yours with unfathomable tenderness—undercut with the hottest flames of desires you’ve ever felt. It’s hard to describe it. All of the kisses you’ve ever had in your life have been Caleb’s, but this one really is different.

An unfamiliar desperation fills it despite being a gentle press of lips. He pulls away and you miss him. Try to chase it as he speaks against your mouth. 

“Open your mouth, baby. Breathe through your nose,” 

You listen to your older brother obediently, mouth parting as he leans in to kiss you again. Soft at first before pulling you down deeper into him by your. A moan escapes you subconsciously and you feel Caleb shiver. Eyes closed, you let him guide you through it. He controls the depth, the pace. You kiss deeply like that, holding each other before he pulls away again. 

Every time you part, you feel a strange pang of sadness. Caleb never leaves you like that for too long 

Your mind is hazy with desire as you fall into a pace with him. He breathes hard each time he pulls away from you, seems overwhelmed each time he kisses you again. Switching between deep kisses to chaste one, your lips throb from the overwhelming intensity of it. His mouth perfectly warm, lips soft and full. Wet as the kiss deepens but not unpleasantly. A tingly sensation that makes your skin prick. 

You make a noise of surprise when Caleb slips his tongue against your mouth. But you don’t dislike it. Rather, out of curiosity, you copy him. 

(A habit of your childhood—to copy your older brother and keep what you like from him as your own. )

Caleb inhales when you mirror him. Your eyes flicker open briefly to see his face, pleased by the draw of his eyebrows, before letting them close again. 

There’s nothing intimidating about kissing Caleb. Every fear you harbor about how you should do it is washed away by the sheer force of your lust for one another. Like a gap of communication has finally been bridged—with your soft tongues sliding against each other, brushing against his palate, open mouth panting, subconsciously rocking your hips. Each second of doubt is brushed away by the overwhelming feeling of mutual, lovesick desire. It flows through your veins with more naturality than even your blood. Nothing more righteous, more sure. 

You kiss like you’re telling him every secret you’ve ever kept—lips incapable of anything but honest confession. Holding onto each other in desperate, desperate necessity. A lifeline. A lifetime of holding it in, unraveling like the seconds couldn’t pass quickly enough to answer for it. 

It feels like the beginning of devouring. You’ve never felt so hungry for something in your life. It gnaws at your conscious thoughts. 

Desire simmers as you subconsciously settle your weight on Caleb’s lap, rocking your hips against the pleasant hardness meeting it. Not entirely sure of what it is your even touching. Caleb moans softly each time you do. 

“Fuck,” Caleb pulls away finally. You whine and he laughs at you. Kisses you again, just once. “Shh, baby.” 

“Nn, you don’t wanna kiss?” Your words come out slurred, even to your own ears. 

“Not that I don’t want to, but you’re—” His laugh comes out higher, breathier. “Doing a little more than kissing,” 

“Mm?”

He looks up at you. Amusement mixed with arousal. “You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?” 

“Feels good,” 

“You’re this weak to a little pleasure,” Caleb says. His hands are hot as they squeeze your hips. “Can’t you feel what you’re sitting on?” 

The question sobers you. Caleb hold you steady to stop you before changing the pace. Uses his strength to hold your hips down as he grinds you over the full length of his…

“Oh,” You’re startled. You’re grinding against—

“You’ve been grinding against my dick like that without thinking about it at all. Isn’t that dangerous?” 

A shiver wracks through you. Caleb’s voice is husky, low when he says. It’s crass and to the point—something you could never imagine hearing him say. But now that you have heard it, it makes it feel like your whole body is melting. Sticky arousal climbs through your limbs, leaves your mind muddled as you moan. Shivering, you fall forward in his arms. He closes them around your back, grinding his hard-on against your clothed cunt. The way it catches on your clit so indirectly feels so good you could cum from it. 

His lips find your face, your jaw. His kisses affectionate. “Feels good, huh?” 

“Mmm,” You press your face to his neck. “Caleb,” 

“Do you want to cum like this? Or do you want me to make you feel even better?”

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Caleb says, a promise. “Better. Promise. Do you want that?” 

You nod. “I want it,” 

“Gonna lay you on your back, okay?” 

You make an affirmative noise as Caleb flips you on your spine with ease. Surprised by his strength again, you gasp a little as he turns you over until he’s over you. He kisses you sweetly. 

Your head feels full. Too heavy on your shoulders. You want to put your tongue in his mouth again and you don’t feel all the way there. Caleb looms over you. 

“You’re beautiful,” Caleb says, breathless. Your eyes go wide. “Really fucking beautiful,”’

“That’s…” 

“I think it all the time. Want to say it to you all the time, but I never wanna scare you.” Caleb hums, a hand on your thigh. 

“Why would that scare me?” 

Caleb chuckles like it’s obvious. “You get skittish easily, you know? When I act less like your brother and more like…” 

You finish the sentence for him with a pout. “My boyfriend?” 

He hums like just hearing it feels good, eyes lidded. “Yeah. Like your boyfriend.” 

“Well that’s….” 

“Do I make you nervous?” 

His expression is playful. Makes your stomach flip. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt. 

“So what if you do?”

“It’d make me happy,” 

“You want me to be nervous? How mean,” 

He leans into your space. You kiss again and feel disappointed when it’s over. Were you always so desperate? 

“Don’t put words in my mouth. It just feels good to know you think of me that way, yeah?”

Something about it, about him like this makes your stomach tie in knots. You make a face, head tilted trying to tempt him into doing what you want. Caleb knows without you speaking a word, always does. Dips his head down to appease, lips firm and steady. Soft and full enough to make you melt. Your arms around his neck, a little breathless, mewling at the way it makes it feel like there’s electricity in your skin. 

“You really like kissing, huh,”  Caleb says. He pulls away again. Casts a brief glance your way before he peppers kisses all across your face. Draws his lips down your jawline, hot and wet as he noses against your skin. He finds your pulse and darts his tongue across the sensitive skin of your neck. 

You keen. It’s a sudden sound, sensitive. Your body shivers. Caleb makes an affirmative noise and does it again. Scrapes the same spot gently with teeth.

Another pitchy moan escapes your lips. Caleb breathes from his nose like laughter. Places more experimental bites and licks all along your neck. Your voice slips before you can catch it. 

“Harder,” 

He appeases you. Just like always. Feeling his teeth in your neck makes your mouth fall open and you moan his name like a small prayer.

His teeth leaves marks along your neck at your request, hands at your waist to hold you in place as you learn more about your body. You can feel your shorts dampen as he does it. It overwhelms you, makes you tremble with every light breath and every sordid bite. You don’t have any experience, have nothing tangible to compare it to except the things you did alone in your bedroom. 

It doesn’t compare at all, though. No amount of relieving your sexual urges as a desperate teenager or fumbling against a stranger in a club even kind of helps your mind make sense of it. Caleb kissing and biting down your neck, his hands touching your skin—it’s the first time in your life you’ve ever felt it. First time you’ve known touch like this. 

First time your mind has been rendered so useless to think. 

He rests his mouth as his hands slide up your sides. You gasp slightly as they go underneath your shirt  but you don’t make any move to stop it. Further and further they go until the reach for your back. Searching for something.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” He whispers.. 

“I don’t at home,” 

He lets out a breath like the winds have been knocked out of him. “Right,”

“Are you into that?” You ask before you can stop yourself, surprised by the sound of your own voice. Caleb just laughs like he’s in disbelief. 

“Take a guess,” 

“I just don’t get it,” 

Caleb doesn’t say anything to that. But his hands maneuver. Stopped just underneath the swell of your tits, his eyes look up at yours and ask for silent permission. His shoulders sag with relief when he receives it. 

The way your chest fits in Caleb’s hands makes your breath hitch. Squeezing the fat of them, relishing how they feel between his palms. He’s quick after that, pulling your shirt up until it’s gathered underneath your neck. There’s an impatience to it that surprises you, something uncharacteristically lacking composure as he halfway undresses you. 

His eyes linger like that for a long time. So long it makes your face burn. 

“Stop staring,” 

“...I don’t know if I can.” 

There’s something like awe in his gaze. Your spine tingles, goosebumps appearing on his skin. The way his hands hold onto your waist. He presses his cheek just below your sternum with an loving sigh, kissing it as he picks his head back up. It’s sweet to the point it almost nauseates you. It might if it were anyone other than Caleb. 

His thumbs draw over your nipples, hardened from arousal. Your chest rises and falls in anticipation, in ache. Thighs squeezing together in a silent admittance. His touch is experimental, careful in observing what elicits the most reaction out of you. 

Chest tender, takes one of your nipples into his mouth without warning. You gasp, hand covering your mouth as you feel him smile against your chest. 

The air shifts again. Hotter, heavier—there’s a sudden carnality to the way he’s touching you. Mouth latched onto your nipples tenderly, grazing them lightly with the blunt end of his incisors like he can guess everything you like. His mouth on your chest is overwhelming. It baffles you that something can feel that good. Each time you think you can’t be surprised any more, Caleb makes good on making you feel better and you’re forced to eat your words. 

Between your legs is throbbing hard. Whatever Caleb can’t fit in his mouth, he teases with the rough pads of his fingers - brushing and squeezing and twisting. Alternating as to make sure nothing goes neglected. Your hips cant against air, frustrated by lack of friction. Caleb is relentless, but does not make any move to sate your growing desires. 

“Caleb,” 

His eyes are washed over as he looks up. A look on his face you don’t know, have never seen until now. His voice is low in the back of his throat, strong hands cupping your chest and squeezing. 

“‘Mm?” 

A sibling bond like this, you think, is to blame for understanding so quickly what Caleb wants. Something you know innately, deep in your subconscious that makes your cheeks grow hot. A hot, prickly feeling goes down your back and all your clothes suddenly feel restrictive. He sits and remains steadfast, but you can sense it too. 

It feels good but something is missing. Something is off. 

Despite his restless desire, he’s taunting you. Goading you. You groan and Caleb laughs.

“Don’t—Caleb. Please,” 

“Did you want something?” 

Another groan leaves your lips as his smile remains unfaltering. 

“You promised you were gonna make it feel better,” You say, so petulant and childish to your own ears you wince. 

Somewhat predictably, this works on Caleb right away. Overwhelming lust tucked carefully behind a thoughtful smile. “I did, huh?” 

“Don’t be a jerk,” You reply. He laughs but not for long.

He has something flash on his face at your reply. You just kind of know. “Sorry, sorry,” 

“Stop holding back.”

He looks surprised. “I’m not—” 

You nudge him with your knee. “You are. You think I don’t know you? Didn’t you say you wanted me to see you differently? Stop acting like a cool older brother. It’s annoying,” 

His expression is one of awe and amusement. It’s not quite that he’s irritated, but you can sense that you just barely get under his skin with the implication. 

 “Weren’t you the one who was crying about not wanting anything to change? Now you’re chiding me? You were acting so spoiled just a minute ago to get your way and now you’re saying you don’t want me acting like your big brother, hm?” 

Your eyes widen at the change in character. It still feels like Caleb, but it’s so intense. Too sincere to be completely playful. A strange mix of lust, nerves and fear wash over you. “Just—” 

He pushes himself back up to hover over you, swift as a hand cups your jaw, forcing your gaze up. Pure arousal shoots through your veins, almost unwittingly, as you catch sight of Caleb’s gaze. An vengeful quality to it. 

“Meimei,” He says, and your breath hitches. Your head is clouded with the immoral lust of hearing it this way. “Your older brother didn’t teach you how to lie, right? If you want something, say it with your mouth. Say it clearly,” 

A flush crawls onto your face, eyes darting away. Caleb allows you this much mercy. To let you look away feels kind. 

It’s an uncomfortable sort of feeling. To acknowledge what desire, what reaction you’re seeking. It’s unfair, and childish - since Caleb has done nothing but love you from the very moment you met him. Kind, gentle, considerate—you love him so deeply that it hurts to breathe just thinking about all you’ve experienced. 

Something about what you’re asking of him is ugly. Born of selfishness, the desire to have all of him, too. 

“Ugh, just—stop saying you want me and show me,” You say, full of distress. 

You see it in his eyes when something clicks. 

And then, with a sudden force, he kisses you. It’s rougher than the ones previous, deeper, greedier. What you want. You moan into his mouth as Caleb licks at your lips, pulling away to kiss your cheek. Sweet as always. 

“Don’t regret it,” 

The change is immediate. In a way, he’s still just answering to your desires - but you don’t dislike this part of him. Your heart rate kicks up as Caleb strips you of your shirt completely before settling himself back down to where he started.

From just beneath your breasts, all the way down the place of your belly and navel - Caleb places hot, wet kisses to your skin. No longer languid but hurried, long fingers curling into the very edge of your waistband as he drops down further and further before settling between your thighs. He glances up at you when he begins to pull down your shorts but doesn’t ask you for permission and it makes you feel a strange thrill when he doesn’t. 

Caleb tugs your shorts off and helps you wriggle out of them in one go - an audible groan escaping his mouth. Plain, tattered cotton panties hug your hips as you lay with your legs up. He nudges your thighs open as you place your feet flat on the bed. With your legs spread, your clothed cunt is readily visible.

He lets out a soft breath. When you look down, your eyes meeting—there’s something almost animalistic to him. A completely and utterly ruined expression, blush dusting across his nose and cheekbones. 

“I want to make you feel as good as you can, okay?” Caleb says breathlessly. 

He brings his mouth to your inner thigh, closer to your knee and places a sweet kiss on the skin. Both of his hands are gripping hard onto your hips, as he breathes in the scent over and over. It sets your body alight to see it in glimpses. His brow is furrowed as he sucks and bites sloppy hickies into the soft fat of your thighs - working his way up slowly. When he finds you properly marked on one leg, he repeats it on the other. 

You can feel the ache of fresh bruises. A sensation that coaxes a completely new wave of arousal straight from the deepest depths of your body. An impossible wetness soaking the paper-thin cotton, sliding down the curve of your ass from how keyed up the touch makes you. 

It’s less that he’s satisfied in his markings with you, more that his desire for you grows too heavy. Caleb stares at your pussy with eyes of pure, unmistakable reverence.

You have never been able to picture another human being looking at you the way he does. 

So much ardor. So much bone-deep, blood-red voracity in a single gaze. The shakiness of his breathing, the harsh grip of his hands, that unsteady look in his eyes as his nose and mouth hover over the soaked panties over your pussy. As if you can see the words repeating in his mind: want, want, want. Nothing more certain. 

Your whole body wracks with a shiver. You whimper with your hands fisted at your sides in anticipation. 

A startled gasp escapes you as Caleb doesn’t do anything but press his nose firm to your pussy and breathe. Deep and unrepentant like he’s trying to memorize the scent of you, use it to track you like a bloodhound. Embarrassed warmth floods your system and you squirm in protest of his actions. 

But you’re trapped there. Completely and utterly, rendered helpless by his gri. His eyes flicker up unfocused but quickly go back to being closed. It’s all the communication you need to know he intends to do exactly as you’ve begged him to do. To expose the extent of his unsavory appetite. Inhaling the scent of sweat and skin, of a day of lounging and leaving your pussy completely confined.

He looks so madly-in-love in the moment you find it hard to breathe even a word of protest. Your clit throbs unhelpfully in response. 

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream when Caleb finally, finally drags his tongue over the seam of your panties. He doesn’t pull them off—instead sucking the wetness from the material. Puffy clit helplessly pulled into the force of it while trapped under your panties, you buck your hip up against his tongue. Caleb obliges you. He points the tip of his tongue and slides it over the small bud through the cotton - completely stiffened from arousal. You shake at the touch, the wet promise of pleasure. How the drenched fabric of your panties gives the most gratifying, mind-numbing friction. You moan loud. You can’t help the sound that leaves you when he licks your pussy. 

You’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt this way, but you’re under the impression that most people will never know a pleasure like this in their life. 

When your underwear is completely saturated with spit - only then does Caleb let off from you. Without a single word of warning, he tugs away the material. Exposing your pussy, bare and throbbing - he blows warm air onto your clit and watches as you squirm. 

Another beat of admiring before his mouth latches onto your pussy again. Panties tugged away haphazardly, his tongue sliding from wet hole all through the seam, the soft folds of your pussy - settling at your clit. He licks experimentally, wading through your moans. When his tongue tastes your clit just the right way, you practically scream. 

With newfound dedication, he commits to worshipping your pussy with his mouth. 

It’s humiliating. Purely euphoric and undeniably stimulating, boneless as Caleb’s tongue laps desperately at your clit. His eyes shut, completely blissful - brows furrowed and moaning into you. He eats you out like it’s what he’s wanted to do his entire life and this is the last opportunity he’ll have to make good on his dreams. 

The corrupted thought lights fire under your body anew. To think of Caleb lusting for you when he shouldn’t be. Like a forbidden fruit, ripe and sweet and nearly his—nearly within his grasp but always just barely slipping between his fingers. Your kind, sweet, considerate older brother thinking of ruining your mind and body. The idea he’d been torturing himself over it makes you sad but more than that it incites impossible longing. You want him to want you even more than he does now. 

You can feel your body ache for it for the first time. Like a reply to his feelings, you think of how good it will feel when Caleb finally fucks you. Takes you, plucks you from vine  and claims you all for himself. 

But the act of him tasting you like this is more than good. The tender bundle of nerves is throbbing hard against the wet flick of his tongue - hips rutting to meet the perfect motion of his mouth. Something in your belly warms. Sweetens your senses and melts you from the inside like crystalized honey coming to liquid sugar over a flame. Your mind has melted away so utterly you can’t do anything but reach your fingers through his hair and chant his name. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is unfamiliar to you. Worked up beyond any rational understanding.. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb.” 

Closer and closer, Caleb remains completely persistent in his efforts. Licks your clit and laps up all the arousal that spills - silky fluid like ambrosia to the unending heat of his mouth.

The knot tangled inside of your body unravels with an alarming speed. Makes your eyes go wide before you shut them again hard, your spine arching off the bed - every muscle in your body going unbearably tense as Caleb’s tongue toys with your clit. The filthy sound of licking making your ears ring. 

Your body goes taut. It feels like a calamity. A pure rapture, like God himself is bringing pleasure. The kind that can only be derived from being your maker. Caleb has that in common with him, you think. 

Your voice rings loud, hands fisted in his hair. You’re cumming hard, and fast, and there’s white behind your eye-lids. Smatterings of bright stars as you press them shut. 

You cum so hard you can’t breathe. For a brief moment you’re weightless before it all comes crashing down in one swift go. Caleb eats you out through it relentlessly and your voice breaks on the syllables of his name - asking for mercy and receiving none. It feels so good it terrifies you. Your body is trembling, cunt spasming around his tongue as Caleb continues his assault. 

You feel something wet rush out of you but Caleb is undeterred. He drinks it all down, every last drop until he’s satiated at least some of his endless, terrifying thirst. 

When he pulls away from your pussy, his mouth is soaked in saliva and your cum. He looked the most satisfied you’ve ever seen him in your life. You’ve never been so scared of someone while being so unbearably aroused in the same breath. 

“You taste so fucking good. Better than I dreamed in my entire life. Need to taste it again. I almost don’t want to do anything else.” He laughs breathlessly. “Almost.”

“Caleb,” You whimper. completely helpless as you try to catch your breath. “Fuck, ‘m still cumming,” 

“Gonna make you cum over and over and over.” Caleb says cheery. “Promise,” 

After cumming the first time, your body's sensitivity increases tenfold. Where you think it’ll cool off the glaring heat, melting you down to your core - all it does is turn it higher, make the feeling more tangible. Caleb’s offer to make you cum again excites you more than it scares you. You stare at him when he comes up for air.

“Kiss?” 

“Even after all that?” 

You nod sheepishly. 

“Jeez. How cute can someone be?” 

He comes up for a kiss, surprised when you lick into his mouth. You like tasting yourself on him, tongue dipping in for more. Caleb smiles at your enthusiasm, eyes lidded when he pulls away. 

“Open your mouth,” 

You give him a blank stare but do as he says. He puts a hand on your throat, tipping your head back before you feel something warm hit your tongue. Your eyes meet Caleb’s in surprise, instinctively swallowing the spit as it slides down your throat. Caleb meets you with an eager kiss, a gentle affection in his voice. “Good girl.” 

Something washes over you hearing the praise. A soft moan into his mouth that leaves Caleb with raised brows. “You like hearin’ you’re my good girl, huh?” 

Your face feels hot. “...Maybe,” 

“Still so bad at lying, pipsqueak. Some things never change,” 

The affection in his voice makes you forgive him. You know the tone, the sound—the lilting coo of your older brother's voice when he’s teasing you. It’s a way of speaking you could recognize in a heartbeat, the kind of voice that you’re anxious without. It shouldn’t soothe you in this context, shouldn’t make your pussy feel so achy when you know exactly how he’s addressing you. 

Caleb kisses down the length of your body again. Neck to navel until he settles down between your thighs. You can’t mask your surprise. Caleb looks up at you from between your legs. 

“What? You thought one time would be enough for me?” 

Truthfully, yes. You’re a little startled at the thought he’s going to do it again. Make you feel all of that again. An anticipatory shiver makes you squirm but Caleb holds you in place. He presses another kiss to your clit. “One time doesn’t even come close to being enough.” 

True to his word, Caleb starts the process all over again. 

The second time around, he doesn’t let himself up to breathe. You’re locked in place as his increased familiarity with your body has him driving you over the edge even faster. Firm grip on your thighs, face buried between your legs - he laps at your clit for what feels like an endless amount of time. The pleasant warmth of his mouth paired with the focused, precise licks on your sweet spot make your body wrack with an impossible pleasure. It’s gentle enough to not be completely overstimluating - but his endurance, his persistence in doing it makes your experience a new high. A trembling mess of limbs and quiet, desperate pleas. Too much, too fast - toes curled as he hoists your legs over his shoulders to give him full access. Clit pulsating, stiff under his tongue with his nose bumping occasionally. 

It feels so good you’re almost content to let him stay there. Let your mind wash away and succumb to the gluttony tying you to the bed. You cum twice again from the pressure - your body experiencing each one longer. Unable to withstand it, your hands clenched tight trying to level yourself with the feeling. A pleasure you’ve never experienced, the kind you doubt you’d be able to feel with someone else. 

Caleb has always been like this in that respect. Your older brother who set the standard for every other man you ever came across. You were always using him as the gold standard, comparing every man you’ve ever met to him. Especially ones who claimed to like you. What would your brother do, how would he act, how would he treat you. He’d never tell you if you were too much. Never call you spoiled even when you act it, embody it so why settle for less? Why want for something else? For someone else?

It’s not surprising that Caleb touches you with the same level of care he’s always given you. Even less surprising that your body longs for it so desperately. 

Caleb is your big brother after all. He takes care of you like this. No one else gets to have it. It makes you entitled, moody, and emotional just to think of him acting this way with someone who isn’t you. 

Yearning and deep affection well up inside of you as these things cross your mind. Whisper to your longing as a deep, endless need overwhelms your mind. Your third orgasm steals the breath out of your lungs. A shockwave of emotions washes over you, as you tug at his hair. You let out a throaty whine. 

“Caleb,” You whimper, pulling him off. “Caleb,” 

Attuned to your emotions, Caleb is quick to pull away when he hears the audible distress. He pulls away from you, worried. “Shhh, hey. It’s okay, I’m here. Did you want to stop?”

You shake your head rapidly. Caleb gives you a small smile. “Just being a crybaby, then?” 

The truth is, yes, just a little. You can’t voice this to Caleb so you instead give him some unknowable, unreadable look. He reads it almost instantly, shifting himself to hug you tight. Without any words at all, like he knows every single thought that passes through your mind. You wrap your arms around him and nudge your nose against his neck. He smells familiar. 

“This what you wanted?” 

You nod against him. Caleb’s heartbeat is steady in a way that brings you bone deep comfort. 

“Be more pampered with me. More selfish, more demanding, more spoiled. Gege will do anything for you, so don’t hesitate.” 

Hearing him refer to himself that  way makes your stomach flip. You nuzzle yourself deeper into him, aroused by the sound of his laughter - playful but smug. You speak against his chest, words muffled. 

“Want it inside right now,” 

His breath hitches immediately. “Yeah?” 

Another nod. You pull away to look him in the eyes when you ask. You know how to beg Caleb for something. You’ve been doing it your whole life, and right now is the most sincere you’ve ever been. Doe-eyed and full lips, all covetous and coy the word falls from your mouth with ease. 

“Please,” 

It has the exact impact on him you want it to have. Groaning, the outline of his cock twitching with a shameful lust, almost blanking out at the thought. He scrubs a hand over his face. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” 

“Please,” You repeat. Caleb kisses you as if to stop you from saying it again. 

“I have to stretch you out on my fingers. It’ll hurt otherwise,” You open your mouth but Caleb cuts you off. “Don’t say it’s fine.” 

“Caleb,” You whine and he laughs sympathetically. 

“Be a good girl,” He placates, and it works on you just as maddeningly as your begging does on him. “Hm? For me?” 

You melt. How embarrassing.”...Fine,” 

He coos at you lovingly and you make no effort to deflect. You can’t. Your usual fire and wit, your banter is dissipated. Brain thoroughly undone from so many orgasms and the deep, aching want in your cunt - so apparent it makes you want to sob. A desperation to be full that you didn’t fathom existing in such a bodily way, something you thought only existed in porn. 

Sensing how strung out you are, Caleb changes positions again. Instead of laying between your legs, he curls up besides you. He turns on his side, sliding an arm underneath and hugs your body close to him. Like he’s cradling you. Your legs slot together, one of yours between both of his - your other leg on the outside. Caleb hikes your thigh up - high enough to have your legs spread. The arm not supporting your back is supporting you, his forearm underneath your thigh.

At this angle, you’re face to face. Caleb can see you clearly as he cradles you in his arms. A large hand squeezes your ass before reaching around - teasing your clit with long fingers.

You feel…small like this. It’s the way you’re being held. The feeling of Caleb’s arm under your back, sliding up to hold your neck. 

His fingers are exceptionally long. Slender and thin, with thick veins from wrist to pinky, more appearing less visibly to the rest. His palms are big- making up the bulk of their size. You feel yourself fixating on them in their movements. 

On the calluses on them from handling guns, to the few thin scars from your childhood that have remained on his body into adulthood - now scarred. The way his fingers caress you, stroke your clit slowly. He kisses you again with a silent question like: you like this, right?

The eagerness of your tongue into his mouth answers it for him, a puppy keen on greeting it’s owner. Caleb laughs sweet into your mouth, encouraging you with all the kindness he has in him. His fingers slides through your slick folds impressed until he reaches low enough to be at your hole. 

You’ve put your own fingers in there before. You think you can handle someone elses. 

You find out fast that you can’t. 

Caleb’s fingers are long. They’re thicker than yours, and longer than yours - and just the first one gives you a stretch you're not expecting. You shudder, a noisy breath. It’s an intrusion, a noticeable one. Caleb is careful, though. It’s easy for him to push the digit it when you’re so wet inside. A soft squelching noise makes your skin burn hot but Caleb goes on undisturbed. 

His finger reaches deep. He fucks it in so slowly and so carefully but it feels like it never ends. All the down to the knuckle with just the one, you find yourself shuddering. Caleb is quiet, but you can hear the labor in his breaths. Feel his cock pressed against your inner thigh and twitch. 

You moan his name instinctually - not for any particular reason and he says nothing. Just thrusts his finger in and out. How can something feel so different on the basis it’s someone else? You can’t hold still, rocking your hips against the sensation. Caleb groans unabashed. 

“You want it so bad, huh?” He says, half-delirious and so pleasantly smug. You nod  immediately. 

“A little more. Hang in there, okay?” 

Okay, you think. You’d do whatever it takes in the moment for Caleb to fuck you more quickly so you bite in the side of your cheek and try not beg stupidly each time he repeats the process. Another finger, longer than the last - stretching out, reaching deeper than anything has ever gone in your life, thrusting until your pussy takes it. It surprises you to know just how much you can take when you take three and you really feel  it. How soft it is inside.

“Enough,” You whisper hoarsely. 

Caleb doesn’t heed your request. Another finger goes in. It takes four for him to finally feel like it’s enough. Four fingers stroking from the inside out, an almost brutal precision curling against your g-spot. Not enough to cum, just enough to get so wet he can’t pull his fingers out without the filthiest noise you’ve ever had to follow it.

Completely out of your mind, you grab onto him weakly. Every ounce of shame and sense gone. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is a pant. “Fuck me. Please, please—just do it,” 

His own voice is no better than yours. “Gotta grab a condom from my—” 

Your voice is vicious. Like you’re lashing out at him. “No. Fuck me.” 

Caleb is quieted by it. Unsure of how to react. “Don’t be like that, baby.” 

A reprimand. Soft as ever. Tears well up in your eyes immediately. “Please hurry,” 

“We have to use a condom next time, okay?” 

You hear nothing that comes out of his mouth except the words next time, and nod. 

He gives in. You’re thankful he always does. You’re at your wits end and you don’t know if your body can handle any more waiting. Not getting what you want with Caleb unsettles and upsets you. Especially this strung out. 

Caleb rolls onto your back again after he pulls his fingers out. You whine at the loss, unwittingly falling onto your back with both legs open. Presenting yourself in some impossibly obedient way that you can’t catch quick enough to stop, knees bent and up in the air. Waiting impatiently for Caleb to follow. 

He follows suit moments later. His hand resting on your knees to spread your legs for him, taking in an eyeful of you as he stands on his own. 

At the angle you’re laying and with nothing to distract your senses - you can see Caleb in full shape. Your body responds in kind for you, throbbing between your legs as you cut his figure. Tall and strong and broad, visible muscles and deltas. There are veins above the lowcut of his waistband, thick and tempting. A little lower than that - a patch of dark hair that leads to…

Your throat feels dry seeing Caleb’s cock standing to attention, just underneath his sweatpants. Eyes blinking rapidly trying to make sense of it. How it strains, a wet patch where it ends. Your breathing slows significantly. Your mouth watering, mind fizzling like a bottle of champagne. The ache in you urges deeper, hand going between your legs to soothe it. Or maybe welcome what's coming. 

Caleb is breathless. Amusement undercut by lasciviousness. “Enjoying the view?” 

You nod stupidly. Caleb grins a little. Makes a show of hooking his thumb into the top of his sweats and tugging all the way down. A thick trail of hair and the smooth, uncut outline of his cock has you gasping. When he tugs his pants all the way pas his thigh, you feel completely speechless. 

He’s huge. Utterly. Too heavy to stand on its own, uncut, veiny. You blink in disbelief, like everything in the room has paused. It’s burly. Ridiculous. Thick enough to look like someone’s forearm. Pearls of pre-cum dribble of out of the tip, pulled back to be revealed. A ruddy reddish brown and angry. It’s darker then the rest, throbbing in a way that looks almost painful. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but that was on accident in a bath before it was—

You stop your train of thought and just stare for an unknown amount of time.

He looks sheepish. The tips of his ears crimson red, all the way down to his chest. You make an unintelligible noise at the sudden change in attitude and also at everything else. 

A sensible person would feel fear. Not your strong suit. You don’t know if it’s bravery or lust that inspires the reaction in your body. You just know you want him to fuck you so bad you might jump  on him to get it. 

“We don’t have to get in today, princess. We’ve got time to—” 

“If you try to deter me one more time I’m going to run away from home,” 

Caleb closes his mouth. He just mumbles something, but obliges you right after. 

In what can only be considered a miracle, Caleb finally settles between your legs. His hands are on top of your thighs as he taps his tip against your clit, rubbing the pre-cum into the mess, The feeling of skin on skin elicits a gasp out of you both. His voice is shaky. 

“Might not last,” He says hoarsely

“S’fine.” You put a hand between your legs and spread your pussy open for him a little wider. A move from porn that works on him instantly. He swears hard under his breath, not giving himself a chance to indulge in the feeling long. 

Tip nudging through slick folds—Caleb finally, finally slides in. 

Another synchronised moan, sweat breaks out onto your skin as you feel the thick tip of Caleb’s cock finally come through. You feel full. It’s completely different from four fingers, more invasive on your body than ever. . 

It elicits a chain reaction. You watch Caleb above you, death grip on your hips trying to keep his composure and not fuck a hole through you. A horrible part of you almost wants him too, even knowing you absolutely wouldn’t be able to take it. 

You’re trembling. It feels ridiculous but you’re so worked up that - 

“Gonna c-cum,” 

Caleb’s eyes blow wide. “From—fuck. That ain’t fair, you can’t,” 

You buck your hips up and groan. He’s stretching you out so fucking good. One more time and it’ll hit that spot and it’ll feel so perfect, so right. You need it. Caleb shakes over you. 

“Mercy,” He says, not sober enough to laugh. You’re going to lose your mind soon. Maybe you already have. 

“I-s it all in?” 

“Half,” Caleb grunts. You moan at the thought. 

“Fuck me. Shit, please,” Your voice breaks high on the last syllable. Caleb looks like he wants to protest, wants to tell you to take it slow. But you can see it in his face that he’s reached his limits. Or maybe he reached them a long time ago and he’s already far gone. 

But he listens. Your jaw goes slack and he pushes in. Inch by tortuous inch until you feel him bottom out. Feel his hips on the back of your thighs. His cock is throbbing inside of you, silken walls clinging onto the shape like you’re being pried open. It doesn’t take anything. He shifts as he bottoms out and your voice comes out in garbled, unintelligible noise. 

“O-oh, ‘m cumming, cumming, ngh,���  Your back arches up that leaves your mind blank. Completely white out, nothing but static as you cum again. Cum around the hard, intrusive length of your older brothers cock - bullying into your cervix until it’s wet and pliable and fuckable for him. Stretching out like it’s his to shape and mould. You can feel it in your body, each vein and each curve. Caleb lets out a whistle. Sharp and so fucking dark, it exicites you helplessly. 

“She’s clingy just like you,” He says, fond but sneering. 

Your head spins when it dawns on you on what he’s saying. 

“Caleb—” 

“I feel conflicted. Are you naturally this gifted?” He laughs, folding over you. Overtaken by something. Bending you under his weight. “Or is it because it’s mine that you’re making it so easy?” 

“I was worried, you know,” He pulls out. The disappointment and gaping emptiness are brief. You hear the way your body refuses him pulling out. “Worried about how such a tight hole would fit something so big. Worried about your body, but you’re taking me in so fucking well. So perfect,” 

You’re panting. It feels so good. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, limp under the weight of it as Caleb gives you a slow few thrusts to get you used to the size. But you’re so stretched and sensitive it just feels fucking incredible from the jump. 

“Be a good girl and let me in.” You clench down on him. He grins to himself. “That’s it,” 

He bottoms out again. Slams hips and fucks you in one swift, unforgiving motion. Groaning, he puts his hands up under your knees, driving his dick into you with animalistic need. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. Too good. I’m never gonna be able to think about anything else. It’s not like I was before but you’re-” Out, back in. You haven’t made a single coherent sound. “You’re just too good. It’s warm and wet and still so tight, how are you still so tight, huh? It’s like you don’t want me to leave.” 

For a brief moment, the two of you make eye contact. The vivid color of his eyes burns bright, pins you underneath the weight of his gaze. It goes straight to your stomach, making it flip in one smooth go. 

“Tell me it’s okay,”  Caleb says, barely restraining himself. 

You look up at him confused. He suddenly looks like he’s at his wits end. 

“Tell me it’s okay to fuck you hard,” 

Like a woman possessed, you reach your arms around to squeeze his back and biceps. You put your mouth close to his ear as you bring him down towards you. 

“Gege,” He twitches inside of you. “Fuck me as hard as you can,” 

You underestimate just what effect it’ll have on you. On him. As quick as he possibly can, he pushes his hands under your knees and folds you into a mating press so deep it makes you scream. He’s pistoning you instantly, pounding into your pussy like he owns. Your nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders without realizing. 

“I love you,” are the only words that come out of his mouth. It has you clenching down even harder. “Gege loves you more than anyone else in the world, okay? More than anyone.” 

Just like that, Caleb fucks you. Given up on being gentle but still trying to make you feel good, trying to touch somewhere no one ever will again - he folds you up under the weight of his body and fucks you with relentless stamina. Your mind is gone. His cock is fat and heavy inside of you, splits your pussy open as the tip knocks against your g-spot with each thrust. His balls smack against your ass on each go. 

It’s too much. For your brain, for your body, for your insides - getting permanently rearranged like he’s crushing your womb. A feeling like it should be painful, but it isn’t because he’s got you so good and open. This a reward for you both. For his patience. Every thought wrung from your head, impressed by your body’s own avarice for cock. Addicted to the feeling of getting strethed, gaped completely open. It feels like you’re cumming without a clear end. 

Wanting Caleb to cum inside of you is a distant thought. Pleasant like a lullaby as your body yearns for it. Another sharp orgasm builds. It builds and builds and builds - and you know’re going to be fucked through it again. 

But this time Caleb is close. Right alongside you. Sweating and panting in your ear as he pounds into your frenzied. 

His voice comes out like a whine and it turns you on even more. You say it before he can think of pulling out, tightening your legs around his waist. 

“Cum in me,” 

Caleb grinds himself deeper. “Gonna cum in you, baby. I love you, I love you—fuck!” 

Pure euphoria floods your entire nervous system as Caleb bottoms out one last time. His cum fills your pussy in thick, long spurts. It feels hot as it takes, makes you shiver with how it feels. Disappointed at the idea it’ll flood back out. 

Caleb, still balls deep - continues suddenly. Where you think he’s gonna pull out, he doesn’t. Instead he fucks you again, this time more clear-headed as he rubs your clit - a hand between your bodies. His voice is shot. 

“Sorry. Don’t wanna be selfish. One more nice and easy, then we’ll clean up?” 

You have no room to protest. After all, Caleb is nothing but relentless when  it comes to spoiling you. You let him fuck another orgasm out of you until you’ve got nothing left to give. 

He collapses on top of you after your pussy milks what's left of him

You kiss when he does, sweaty and tired. You look at his blissed out face and kiss his nose with affection. 

“I love you too, Gege.” 

He pauses then laughs. Brightly. Hopelessly. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” 

__ 

You aren’t sure when exactly you pass out. 

You remember lingering with Caleb in his bed before limping into the bathroom. And a bath too, if your memory serves you right. You must’ve fallen asleep in the tub with Caleb, the broad warmth of his chest lulling you right to sleep. You’ve got good endurance from being a hunter, but you’re tuckered out just thinking about earlier. 

Also a little embarrassed. 

You wake on the couch of the living room. Cleaned, changed, and tucked into with a blanket over you. There’s a scent and the quiet sizzle of a pan. Your limbs feel heavy as you pick your head up. It’s still dark out but it seems like morning. 

You rub your eyes as you swing your legs over and place them on the floor.

Standing to your feet, you find slippers at the end of the couch and feel your heart swell ten sizes. You put them on before padding into the kitchen. 

Caleb is at the stove like you thought he’d be. You flush seeing his back covered in scratches and a bite or two - none you remember leaving. You know your body is in the same state if not worse.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his broad back. Your voice is small, embarrassed. Everything feels brand-new. 

“G’morning,” 

Caleb turns the heat down and puts the spatula on the counter top, turning to face you. He looks down at you with a boyish grin. Unfairly handsome, making you pout. 

“Morning, sleepyhead. Feel okay?” 

You tuck your face into his chest and nod. “Just a little tired. I don’t hurt or anything.” 

“That’s good, then,” 

You make a little mm sound and stay there for a while. Caleb is content to hug you until you pull away. 

“Caleb?” 

“Hm?” 

Your face feels warm. “...Kiss?” 

He stops, then beams. Dips his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that feels romantic and practiced, but doesn’t make you feel strange in a bad way. You’ve never had a boyfriend, not a real one. Does everyone feel butterflies like this? 

Maybe there’s something wrong with you. He pulls away and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re less moody than you usually are when you wake up,” Caleb teases. “Good to know. An effective way to deal with your attitude is always welcome.” 

You frown at him, feeling furious for more reason than embarrassment. It’s really unfair how flirtatious he is. “Shut up,” 

Subconsciously, your hands are fisted as you cling to Caleb’s chest. With no shirt to hold onto you, your muscle memory finds it the most steady. They’re clenched hard from embarrassment and a flood of other feelings you need soothed. 

Caleb grabs your hand and unfurls them for you. Strong, warm, big hands grasp yours in their palm and open them both softly - fingers interlocking until you’re no longer so tense. Just melted away. 

“I’m right here,” He says. A wave of emotions passes over you. 

You hold his hand and squeeze it. Once, twice - it has a steadiness the grip of fabric doesn’t. 

You smile to yourself. Helplessly happy. Overwhelmed with pure, unrelenting love. 

“Yeah,” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. “You are,” 

[flickering-chandelier]

I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Pairing: Azriel x Bestfriend! Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been best friends for years, and slowly Reader starts to fall for him. He eventually feels the same way, but after Reader overhears a conversation she wasn’t meant to, she has doubts about him.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, a little swearing

Work Count: 5.2k

You twisted around in front of the mirror, trying to look at the dress from every angle. “What do you think, Az?”

Your friend looked at you, his eyes trailing down your body, and wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Really?” You faced the mirror again, cocking your head. “I think it’s pretty.”

“It cinches weirdly around your middle,” he said.

You studied yourself in the mirror again, realizing he was right. “Wow. See, this is why I bring you along. Who knew your spymaster focus would be so helpful for fashion.”

He laughed, throwing his head back against the couch he was sitting on, and you couldn’t help but smile. You always felt a twinge of pride whenever you could make the stoic shadowsinger laugh like that.

“So this one, then?” You asked, gesturing to the first dress you had tried on earlier. 

“That is the one,” he shot you a lopsided smile. “The poor fool won’t know what hit him.”

Later, you plopped down into the chair next to Azriel’s in the sitting room at the House, groaning. 

Azriel arched a brow in question. 

“You were right,” you sighed. “He was a fool.”

Az poured you some of the amber liquid he was drinking, handing the glass to you. “What kind of fool? Do I need to defend your honor?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

Laughing dryly, you said. “No, nothing like that. Just a lame date. I can’t believe I bought a new dress for that guy.”

He smiled sadly at you. “Hey, the right guy will go crazy for that dress.”

You winced, taking a sip of the drink. “I guess,” you grumbled.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. “You know I won’t let you be all grumbly by yourself.” 

Smiling faintly, you rose from your seat and settled in his lap, resting your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping comfortingly around you. 

“When’s it gonna happen for us, Az? When do we get to find what Rhys and Feyre have?” You asked, quietly. 

He sighed, leaning his cheek into the top of your head. “I don’t know. But at least you and I are alone together.” 

You laughed, and he tightened his arms around you slightly, clearly pleased. You felt your sad heart mending slightly as your best friend in the world held you long into the night.

---

A few days later, you sighed, pushing your food around your plate at lunch in Velaris with Azriel.

Azriel watched you, those hazel eyes calculating. “You’re not still moping about that date, are you?”

“I’m not moping,” you scolded him. “And no, of course it’s not about the date. He is not worthy of my sighs.”

The side of his mouth curved into a smile. “So, what is it then?”

Shrugging noncommittally, you said, “Honestly, I don’t know. I just feel…bummed.”

That smile of his dropped, his mouth thinning into a line. “Are you done eating?”

You blinked, confused. “Yeah, I think so.”

He tossed money onto the table, nodding his head to the side, indicating it was time to go. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked, rising to follow him.

“You’ll see,” he said, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you walked. 

It took several minutes before you knew what he was planning and you grinned up at him as you realized where he was leading you. 

He smiled, kissing the top of your head as you neared your favorite ice cream shop. 

Your heart swelled as Azriel ordered your favorite ice cream. You should have known. Your parents had always taken you here when you needed a pick-me-up, and Azriel had continued the tradition, knowing it always made you feel better, at least for a little bit.

Gazing up at the man who knew you so very well, your heart began to crack.

---

Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you settled on the couch beside him, tucking you against his side as his whole family roamed around the River House. 

It had been Feyre’s idea to get everyone together for an evening, just to spend time in each other’s company. 

“How are you?” he said, eyes boring into yours. He had been extra watchful of you lately, since your mood had dimmed weeks ago. He couldn’t understand why this dark cloud had been following you around lately. It broke his heart that he couldn’t fix it.

“Good,” you murmured, smiling faintly at him. 

His brow furrowed, but before he could question you further, Cassian plopped down on the other side of you, grinning.

Cassian pulled your attention then, telling an animated story about how training had been going in the Illyrian mountains. 

Azriel wasn’t really listening, still studying you. You laughed at something that Cassian had said, the sound bright, bouncing off the walls, your smile lighting up your face. The tightness in Azriel’s chest eased a bit.

Feyre and Elain beckoned you into the kitchen then, and you followed, leaving Azriel and Cassian alone in the sitting room for the moment. 

Cassian nodded after you, shooting Azriel a knowing look. “What’s the deal with her?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel said, sighing. “She’s been… off lately.”

Cassian looked contemplative. “Have you ever thought about… you know…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“What, being with her? Romantically?” Azriel furrowed his brow.

“Yeah. I mean, you guys are cuddly enough.”

“Not like that, though,” Azriel said. “No, it’s never been like that between us.”

Cassian shrugged. “Okay. But, you never thought that you might be missing out?”

Azriel thought about it for a moment, what it would be like. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about her like that.”

“Maybe you should.”

Before Azriel could respond, Nesta stalked into the room, taking Cassian’s attention completely. 

---

It had been months since you had come home from that terrible date, since Azriel had held you that night, since your mind and your heart began to wonder.

Azriel had always been your friend. Though he was beautiful and amazing, you had never before thought about being anything other than his friend. Nothing between you had really changed at all in the last few months, and yet… 

It was Azriel’s face in your mind as you fell asleep. It was Azriel’s touches that you dreamed of, over and over again. It was Azriel, who knew you so well, who was always, always there for you, that occupied your mind day in and day out.

You knew he had sensed a shift in you. But you didn’t think he understood what that shift was. That you had, without even really realizing it, fallen in love with him. 

Cauldron, you were doomed. 

“Where did you just go?” Feyre said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Nowhere,” you lied.

She narrowed her eyes at you, bouncing Nyx in her lap. 

“Okay, I actually really need to talk to somebody about this. But if I tell you, you can’t tell anybody, not even Rhys.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded in agreement. 

“I kinda have feelings for Azriel.”

Feyre bit her lip, trying to hide her surprise. “Since when?”

You shrugged. “It happened slowly. Little things started sticking out to me all of a sudden and now… Now I can’t stop thinking about him. And I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell him how you feel,” Feyre offered, smiling softly.

You groaned. “But I don’t think he sees me that way. If I tell him, it could ruin our whole friendship.”

Feyre tilted her head, contemplating. “You think so? Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s Az. I can’t imagine that he would ever abandon someone he loves for any reason.”

“I guess,” you said distantly. “But it would make things really awkward, at the very least.”

Feyre smiled. “Or, it could turn into something amazing.”

You scoffed. “With our luck in love? Unlikely.”

“Maybe nothing has worked out for you two so far because you’re supposed to be together.”

Your heart swelled at the thought, but you stomped down the hope. “Maybe,” you said, your mind wandering again. “Maybe.”

---

Your blood rushed in your ears, your body tense as you and Azriel sat together in the sitting room of the House the next evening. It physically hurt to be near him these days. Your body ached to be close to his.

“What’s up with you?” Azriel asked.

“Nothing, I just…” you trailed off, looking across the room at him, willing yourself to tell the truth. “I love you, Az.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

He didn’t get it. He didn’t bat an eye at you, at his friend he had loved platonically for so long. Your heart sank. 

It hurt to look at him now. You knew it couldn't be the same between you, not now that you had foolishly fallen for him. 

You took a sip of your drink, wishing it was stronger, and forced yourself through easy conversation with your best friend. 

---

“What’s wrong?” you asked him immediately upon seeing him weeks later, and Azriel couldn’t help but smile. You had always been able to sense the shift in his mood, even if things had felt… different between the two of you lately.

He sighed. “We’re unlucky in love, you and I.”

You stiffened, and he wondered if he had said something wrong, but continued. “You know, the whole Mor, Elain…thing. I’ve just been thinking about what you said that night ages ago. I just wonder when it’ll happen for us.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked to you, and you gulped, tense in a way he’d never seen when it was just the two of you. “What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly. “I’m sorry. That you’re feeling unlucky in love.”

He lifted a brow. “Are you okay?”

You nodded then stood up quickly, walking toward the door. Azriel stood, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling gently so you would turn back to face him. “Hey. Talk to me,” he said softly.

Your eyes swam with emotion, and you seemed to be pondering what to say. “I can’t talk to you about this,” you said quietly, your voice breaking.

“What do you mean?” Azriel tried to push down the hurt he felt. “We talk about everything.”

“Not this, Az,” you said sadly, before gently pulling your hand out of his grasp and disappearing down the hallway.

What the hell. 

Azriel spent nearly an hour contemplating what had just happened. Were you upset with him? Or were you just keeping something from him? If you were, why?

He ran over the last several weeks in his mind, all of his interactions with you. You had definitely been acting differently around him, sitting further away from him, not spending as much time with him one-on-one, but he assumed you would talk to him when you were ready. Evidently, you still were not ready. But, what could it possibly be that you couldn’t talk to him about it?

It was his relationships, well his lack of relationship with Mor and Elain that seemed to set this off. 

And then he remembered what Cassian had said weeks ago, that maybe he should consider you as a romantic partner. His brother was always smarter than most people gave him credit for. Did Cassian know something? Was he trying to tell Azriel?

His head spun. Did you have feelings for him?

It would actually explain a lot of your behavior for the past few weeks, especially if you thought that he didn’t feel the same way. 

Did he feel the same way?

He sat back in his chair. Why hadn’t he ever considered you before? You were beautiful, of course, and one of the very best people he had ever known. And you were his best friend, who knew him better than he knew himself, in many ways. Who he could talk to about anything. Who already loved him so much. 

Maybe he should be with you. 

He did love you, of course. So… maybe the two of you should give it a shot.

Before he could think it through, he went to your room, knocking gently. He had to know if he was right.

You answered the door in a thin night dress, your hair cascading down your shoulders. Gods, you were beautiful. What an idiot he'd been.

“Az?” You asked.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his. He gauged your reaction, waiting for you to tense, but you didn't. You melted into him, placing your hand on his chest and gazing up at him with big, beautiful eyes.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned down, and you tilted your face up to meet him, longing written all over your face. His heart rate spiked as his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was slow, sweet, exploratory. A new dance between old friends. 

You moaned slightly, twining your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to you.

He growled, pushing you back further into your bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot.

You had a long night ahead of you.

---

It had been about a week since you and Azriel had stepped into a new form of your relationship.

It was funny, actually. Not that much had actually changed, except you were more comfortable around him now, like you had been before the last few weeks had complicated things. The two of you spent so much time together one on one before, the only difference now was all the kissing and the bedroom activities. And how many times you would tell him that you loved him, your eyes shining with that love.

He was starting to feel like he hadn't thought it all the way through. He loved you. Of course he did. But, he was worried that your love for him was deeper. And he couldn't bear the thought of hurting you.

“Where'd your mind go, Az?” Cassian asked, and Rhysand chuckled.

“He's thinking about his new girlfriend,” Rhys grinned.

Azriel’s jaw tightened. “I'm worried,” he admitted.

“About?” Cassian asked, leaning forward, his full attention on Azriel.

“I think her feelings are deeper than mine. I'm starting to worry that I may have…” he trailed off, not wanting to admit it.

“Settled?” Rhys offered.

Azriel winced, but nodded. “Maybe.”

“What, you don't love her?” Cassian asked.

“I do. Of course I love her.”

“Well, there you go,” Cassian said, waving a hand dismissively. “I think you're overthinking this.”

“Maybe just give it time,” Rhysand said contemplatively. “You know how she is. She feels things very deeply. You might catch up to her faster than you think.”

“Maybe. I hope so,” Azriel said, his mind wandering away again, back to you. Back to the love that shone in your eyes when you looked at him.

He would have to be careful. He would not break your heart. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

---

Years later, snuggled up to Azriel, watching children screaming and running around the River House the night before Winter Solstice, you couldn’t imagine being happier. 

Azriel and you had been talking about trying for children soon. Your heart swelled as you watched Cassian’s and Rhysand’s children grow up together, picturing your own children growing up in all this love, with cousins and aunts and uncles who would love them so much.

You smiled and Azriel kissed your temple. “I know exactly what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your skin. 

“You do not,” you smiled.

“I do,” he said, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “You wanna try for a baby tonight?” His breath tickled your ear, his voice dipping suggestively. 

You laughed, playfully shoving him away, and he grinned. “Tonight? The one night a year we sleep under the same roof as our entire family? Absolutely not.” 

He pulled you into his lap, kissing you sweetly. “Tomorrow then?” he whispered. 

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled with love. “We’ll see,” you teased. 

Elain called you into the kitchen then, and you went to join her, shooting a wink at Az over your shoulder as you went. He grinned.

Your family was scattered all over the house, leaving Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel alone in the living room next to the kitchen with some of the children.

You could hear them laughing together as you helped Elain prep some of the food for the following morning. 

Your ears perked up when you heard your name and Elain shot you a curious look, clearly eavesdropping along with you.

“Remember when you two first got together?” Rhysand asked, likely to Azriel.

“Yes,” Az chuckled softly. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

“I can’t believe you were ever unsure about her,” Cassian said. “That you were worried you had settled.”

Shock jolted through your entire body, your blood pounding in your ears. You nearly dropped the plate that you were holding.

“I was a fool,” Azriel said, and you could picture him shaking his head slightly. “I can’t imagine life without her. I can’t believe I lasted so long just being her friend.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” Rhysand teased. 

“Oh, like you’re not the same with Feyre,” Azriel shot back, and all three brothers erupted into laughter. 

You looked at Elain finally, her expression solemn, like she could see right through to your soul, how broken you felt. 

Without a word, you left the kitchen, going up to the guest room that you and Azriel occupied when you stayed with Feyre and Rhysand. 

Azriel had settled for you. He was sad that night that he first kissed you, sad about not getting a shot with Mor or Elain, so he had gone to the one person he knew would never deny him. 

All this time, all these years, he had just been settling with you because he didn’t want to be alone. You felt sick.

You had fallen in love with him, and to him you were just there. Ready for the taking. That’s why he chose you. 

Your stomach lurched, and you scrambled to the bathroom, spilling your guts, hot tears streaming down your face, sobs shaking your whole body.

---

Azriel frowned sometime later, wondering why you hadn’t come back yet. He wandered away from his brothers, finding Elain alone in the kitchen. She frowned at him as he entered, looking angrier than he had ever seen her. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go ask your wife?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? Where is she?”

“She went upstairs a while ago,” Elain said curtly, turning back to her pastries. 

Azriel’s heart pounded. What had happened to make Elain angry at him? Why had you gone upstairs without saying goodnight to anyone? 

He rushed up to the room, confused when he didn’t see you anywhere, until he heard you sniffling in the washroom. His heart lurched, panic setting in as he swung the door open, finding you lying on the floor, hugging your legs to your chest, facing away from him. 

He whispered your name, his anxiety increasing. When you didn’t answer, he sat down next to you, rubbing your back soothingly, gently setting your head into his lap. He saw your tear stained cheeks, your red eyes, and the breath was sucked right out of his lungs.

“What happened, love? What is it?” he asked, trying to sound calm.

You refused to look at him, staring ahead blankly. 

He had never seen you like this. “Honey, you’re scaring me, please tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. 

Finally, you sat up and walked back into the bedroom, still not looking at him. As you did, you mumbled, “you settled.”

“What?” he asked, following you into the bedroom. 

You slid under the covers, facing away from him. “You settled with me. You didn’t want to be alone, so you kissed me that night. And you settled with me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, quietly. “I did not settle. I love you. So much.”

You buried yourself further into the covers, hiding yourself from him. His heart ached. “All this time,” you whispered. “All this time. You must have been just waiting for Mor or Elain to change their minds, huh?”

“No,” he said, his voice coming out quiet and crackly. He rounded the bed, willing you to look at him. He settled on his knees, looking into your eyes, cupping your cheek with a scarred hand. “No. It was never like that. It was never about them. I love you, I always have,” he said, willing you to believe him, to feel that he meant it. 

A tear slid down your cheek. His heart broke further as he wiped it away gently with his thumb. “That’s not what Cassian said,” you whispered.

Azriel sighed, his eyes pleading. “I was worried. When we first started dating, I was worried that your feelings were deeper than mine. You always feel things so deeply, my love, and that’s one of the things that I love the most about you. I was scared that I wasn’t at the same level that you were, and you would get hurt because of it.”

“Looks like I have,” you whispered. 

“But it’s not like that now, it hasn’t been like that for years. I’ve known for so long that you are the only person in the world that I could ever want. Please,” Azriel whispered. “Please believe that I am so in love with you. It was one stupid conversation ages ago, and I’m so sorry that I hurt you, but you have to believe me. You are the love of my life.”

“I don’t know how to believe you right now,” you said quietly, your voice breaking. 

Azriel’s heart broke completely. Your face was completely blank in a way he had never seen before. “What can I do?” 

“I don’t know, Az. I need -- I need space.”

He gulped, but nodded, rising to his feet slowly “Okay. I’ll be downstairs, if you need me.”

You didn’t respond. He willed his legs to move, to leave you behind, broken, in the bed you were supposed to share.

Cassian and Rhys were the only people left downstairs by the time he made it back down, drinking and laughing together. 

One look at their brother’s face, and they went silent.

“I fucked up,” Azriel said, taking the glass from Cassian’s hand and shooting the amber liquid back in one gulp.

Cassian handed Azriel the whole bottle, who would have laughed, if he hadn’t ripped his own heart to shreds that night.

He took a swig before saying quietly, “she heard our conversation. She thinks I settled with her.”

“Shit,” Cassian said, his face falling. 

“What did you tell her?” Rhys asked, his expression solemn too.

“The truth. I was worried that in the beginning that she loved me more than I loved her, but now… Gods, I’m so in love with her. But she said she can’t trust me anymore,” he said, a tear running down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

His brothers were silent for a moment, thinking. 

After a moment, Cassian said, “Yeah, I don’t know how you fix this, Az.”

Azriel laughed humorlessly, taking another sip from the bottle. “Thanks.”

“She might just need some time,” Rhysand said. 

“You didn’t see her,” Azriel said, his voice breaking again. “She was…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I’ve never seen her like that. She’s wrecked. Because of me.” 

His brothers stayed up with him for a long time, trying to console him, but he eventually sent them away to their happy mates who still loved them. 

He laid on the couch, his wings drooping on the floor, his heart hurting. He hadn’t spent a night away from you since you had gotten together unless he was on a mission. This felt fundamentally wrong.

Eventually, he got up, wandering through the quiet house. He made his way into the study, digging out some paper. He had to fix this. He needed you to understand. 

---

You’d barely slept at all, and winced when the sun started lightly filtering into the room that shouldn’t be so empty. 

You didn’t know how to feel, what to think. You knew Azriel loved you. But was it enough? Was it the same, all-consuming love that you felt for him? 

How could you ever be sure?

After just one night, you missed the heat of his body against yours, hated rolling over to see the other side of the bed empty. 

Cauldron, you had been talking about children less than 12 hours ago, and now…

You shoved the thought away, your eyes still burning from crying all night. You refused to start up again. 

What a Winter Solstice this would turn out to be. Maybe you should just go home.

Alone, in the apartment that you had turned into a home with Azriel. Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it, hard. You were strong, you would survive this. 

Whatever this ended up being.

Your mind was still spinning and you hadn’t yet gotten out of bed when there was a tentative knock on your door. 

“What?” you said, quietly, your voice not sounding like your own.

Azriel opened the door slowly, studying you as he lingered in the doorway. He looked awful, bags under his eyes, his clothes rumpled, his hair a mess, like he had run his hand through it over and over again. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. 

“Hi,” you replied timidly.

His face fell and you knew why. You had never sounded like that, not with him. 

He took a cautious step into the room, watching you closely. “I made something. For when you're ready,” he said, placing a stack of papers on the bedside table. 

You remained silent, not sure what to say. He swallowed, and turned to leave, but he stopped in the doorway, turning back to you. “I do love you. So much.”

His expression was pained, and you could tell he wanted to say more, but he just looked at you sadly before disappearing behind the door he closed behind him. 

It wasn’t until after you took a long bath that you had the courage to look at the papers he had left for you. You sat on the bed, pulling them into your lap, surprised at how many pages there were. 

On the top, in Azriel’s handwriting it said, “To My Dearest Love.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t stop the swell in your chest, the love that you felt for him. 

You were shocked as you read through page after page. He had written your story, the story of your love from his perspective, every date you had gone on, every Winter Solstice, every milestone. He detailed his thoughts as he went through each of those moments, all the things he loved about you, when he noticed new little things about you, even after being friends for so long. 

Tears were streaming down your face by the time you got to the end, where it read: 

You, my love, are everything. Everything. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you. 

I’m sorry that I was a fool. I’ll always be sorry that I hurt you. 

Whatever you decide, whatever you want going forward, I just hope that you’ll know how deeply I love you. 

---

Azriel had gone to the annual snowball fight with his brothers, only for a distraction. But his heart wasn’t in it, and after about ten minutes, his brothers had deemed his snowball game so pathetic that they called it off and all went inside to the cabin to drink. 

He knew he was being tragic company, so Azriel went back to the River House on his own, prepared to find a quiet corner to sulk in by himself. He hoped you had read what he stayed up all night writing, at least. Even if it didn’t change anything… 

He didn’t let himself dwell on what could happen. He didn’t know what he would do if you left him. 

He nearly fell over when he noticed that you were sitting in the living room that he had used his shadows to winnow into. 

You looked surprised too, but not unhappy. Relief flooded through him. 

“Hi,” you said, quietly. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice raspy. 

You stood up, walking toward him slowly, stopping a few steps from him. He longed to hold you, to make it all better, but he stayed where he was.

“I read it,” you whispered. 

He could only nod, his heart in his throat. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and his heart shattered, terror flooding through him before you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. 

He hugged you back instantly, holding you to him with crushing force. 

“I don’t want to be mad at you anymore,” you said into his chest. “I love you.”

Azriel felt like he was going to fall over, the only thing that was keeping him standing was you. “I love you,” he said, letting the tears fall freely down his cheeks, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I love you, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I get it now. What you wrote -- it helped me understand. And it was beautiful.”

“I’m still sorry I hurt you,” he said, his voice cracking.

You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him gently. “It’s okay, Az. I’m okay.”

Azriel took your face in his hands gently, kissing you like his life depended on it. He felt like it did. 

You let him kiss you for ages, until the two of you realized that you were no longer alone. Azriel looked up to see that his brothers had winnowed in and were now staring at the two of you. 

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Cassian said, bracing his hands on his knees dramatically before coming up and hugging you, lifting you into the air, while Rhys laughed behind him. “You guys really had me worried.”

“I take it you worked it all out?” Rhysand asked, kissing your cheek after Cassian set you back on the ground. 

“Yeah, we’re okay now,” you said, laughing at them.

Rhysand and Cassian did look extremely relieved, which made Azriel’s heart swell. He would always be thankful for his brothers. 

---

After a surprisingly successful Winter Solstice, you and Azriel made your way back home, now cuddling together in your bed, holding each other tightly. 

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “I’ll always be so thankful for you. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You snuggled closer into him. “We’re both lucky.”

Azriel laughed. “Speaking of getting lucky… you want to try for that baby now?”

You gawked at him, incredulously. “What, too soon?” he asked, smirking.

“Males are ridiculous,” you scolded him. 

After a beat, Azriel risked it. “I didn’t hear a no…”

You laughed, pulling him into a kiss. “You’re so stupid.”

Azriel grinned. “Oh, I know.”

@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch @batboyrhyrhy @1-s1mp-t00-much

[bizarrebaby]

Backstitch | Nacho Varga/Reader

Pairing: Nacho/Reader Warnings: none. its a little spicy. Summary: Nacho is helping you learn how to sew.

“You’ve got the bobbin the wrong way around,” Nacho remarks evenly, having to suppress the urge to just quickly put it right for you. You’re supposed to be learning. 

“It matters?” You mutter, taking it out from the bed of the machine and turning it around. You pout when you concentrate— it’s cute. 

“Yes it matters, chiquita. Direction is everything in sewing.” Anyone else might not be able to see the subtle smile playing on his lips. You smile back. 

“Sorry— I must not be a very good student, huh?”

“Nah,” he scoffs, “you’re quick. Pretty soon you won’t need me anymore…. And even if you weren’t, I don’t mind,” he hums with a quick kiss to your temple. “It’s nice, you know? Having someone to teach this to.”

Nacho takes a lot of pride in the skill he has with his hands. You know that all too well. But he can really talk to cartel guys about fucking sewing. He’s been getting shit about that since he was a kid. 

“You think if things had been a little different… if you’d never been a part of the game. You would’ve wanted to take over the family business?” He mulls it over, like he’s done lots of times before. 

“Whether I wanted to or not— it’s what I would’ve done. It’s what you do, as a son. I dunno.”

“Well, if we still met in that world, I would’ve been happy to do it with you. Not that I’d be any good at leatherwork— I can barely handle linen,” you snort, laying another set of sewn squares onto your little pile of imperfect puzzle pieces. Ignacio stares at you for what feels like forever, and not long enough at all. 

“You got a good eye, though. You know colors,” he says a little lamely, quick to speak up again when you start to laugh. “I mean it! What was that color you said my shirt was the other day?”

“Prussian blue,” you say with your teeth showing through your smile. 

“See? I don’t know shit like that… you would’ve been great. Would’ve made my papà so proud.” You take your foot off of the pedal of the machine, turning to kiss him. He meets you, suddenly open mouthed and hungry after a few moments against your lips. You push him to lie back on the couch. 

Nacho smiles, sparks in his eyes and running through his hands as he moves them over your body. “Ai— what about your quilt?”

“We live in fucking New Mexico. The quilt can wait.”

[acronym49]

Obey Me! Characters react to mc being a dragon

(trying my hand at writing headcanons, let me know what you think! Other brothers + dateables are a work in progress)

__Lucifer__

He's not optimistic. His brothers are hard enough as it is, but adding in a new large creature? It'd be better to just keep you down with Cerberus. Maybe he'd enjoy the new playmate.The annoyance turns to intrigue when he learns you have the mind of any other demon (or person, if you will). And you can speak? Strange. This wont make him like you by any means, of anything he will be very distrusting. As you live there, though, he starts getting used to you. He even enjoys your odd antics, and especially the way you can rally in any ensuing chaos (despite how often you cause it).On one or two rare occasions, he'd absently try to pet you on the head when he was in that 'dead tired from paperwork' state. Depending on your reaction, he might do it more. When/if he does end up falling for you, expect to be near him a lot (obviously). There's not so many head-pats, but he likes to have you sit next to him while he's working or reading, sometimes absently stroking you neck or asking your opinion on whatever he's working with. There'll definitely be some teasing as to how catlike you are at times, but he means it lovingly. *he might put a collar on you if you ask-*He wouldn't ever be the type to outright ask to ride on your back, but I have the feeling he'd make subtle hints to it.'Ah, darn, the ride canceled last second. How can we get there now?' Ykyk. He'll turn you down the first time when you ask if he wants to fly with you, but that's just the pride talking for him. He'd love nothing more. After all, one of the most powerful lords of hell swooping in upon a dragon? You two would be an awe-inspiring duo, that's for sure.

__Mammon__

Ugh, he's gotta watch the new student? Lame! Humans are so- what the fuck is that?He dosen't know how to react at first. This is the thing he's looking after? It'll be awkward for the first few days, but as we know, he falls for MC fast. Awkward silence changes to him griping about how you always have to follow him. After the pact, though, he realizes you're not so bad. You tease him a little bit, sure, but he notices how you praise him, too. Just simple compliments, like how he looks good in his shades, how he's so good at math, how he's super fun to be around. It makes him feel better, y'know? Other demons also seem to be a bit less inclined to make fun of him when you're around, especially when you growl at them for being so openly mean. After a little bit of time, you two are basically glued at the hip. Depending on the kind of MC you are, you two could be the ultimate partners in crime or the closest confidants (or both!). There'll never be a boring moment with you two.It wont take him too long to ask to fly on you (probably be one of the first things he asks you tbh- it's like a joy-ride squared)He'd be respectful but mopey if you say no, but if you say yes? That's a happy demon on your hands right there. Be sure to set some boundaries, though, he might not wanna go by car anymore (like when you give a hognose snake a toad and they refuse to go back to pinkies lmfao). He'll try and get you to learn some aerial maneuvers, maybe how to spin or go upside-down (it's harder than it looks). When you two aren't flying or causing chaos together, you're both just hanging out. When he's relaxed, he likes to trace his hand over your smooth skin/scales/feathers/fur. He can't help it, the texture's just so soothing. Don't point it out, though, he'll go BRIGHT red. He likes it when you two watch movies together, or when you browse Devilgram with him over his shoulder. Feel free to nuzzle him and cuddle up, this man loves it. Sometimes he returns the favor, using you as his own sort of couch while he talks with you, sometimes giving you a peck here and there.

__Leviathan__

Oh this man is hyped from the start. A whole-ass dragon? LIVING with him and his brothers? What could be cooler? He has an internal war between wanting to get a good look at you and being really nervous to get too close. That nervousnes amps up when he realizes you can talk. You might think he's a hallucination at first with how fast he darts out of sight the moment you try and look at him. Fortunately, Mammon's debt to him is what spurs your first interaction. After, he's a little bit more ok with being percieved. He plays it cool at first, not wanting to seem too pushy, but he can't help but barrage you with questions when he gets the chance. It's actually quite a fun time, especially if you love infodumping as much as he (and I) does. You ask your own share of questions as well, about the Devildom, about him, about the games and figures he loves. As you two get more relaxed with one another, you both love to sit and chat about each other's hyperfixations. You can't exactly game with him due to your talons (not comfortably, anyways), but he lets you watch over his shoulder while he games. It makes his victories that much sweeter, and any losses a tad more bearable. Sometimes he lets you go on the mic to startle or taunt the other players, just for fun. It's hard to tell exactly when the relationship begins and the friendship ends, it's a smooth transition that neither of you really notice until you're literally cuddled up together, watching Assasination Classroom on his phone at 2am. It takes a surprising while for him to ask to fly with you. You may have to be the one to bring it up, actually. Nervous the whole time, 100%. He may decline, but upon numerous reassurances he'll agree. I think it's like... that test drive scene from httyd. It's so unfamiliar at first, being high up, with the wind blowing so fiercely. After a while, though, something clicks with him. He'll gain that confidence, guiding you (with your permission) where he wants to go. Something about that wild, windswept sensation of being a mile up in the air melts his nerves. It's just you two and the sky. The others are def gonna be jealous about how well you fly together.

(Feel free to tag with your dragon ocs! Sorry for any spelling errors lmao my eyes tend to skip over words sometimes)

[jinmindeulle]

make it work | byun baekhyun

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 idol!baekhyun x nonidol!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 1.6 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, romance | jealousy, argument, happy ending

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angsty?, fluffy

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 none

requested by a lovely butterfly anon 🦋 thank you so much for your request and sorry for the long wait!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

I have to be happy for him, I have to be happy for him, I have to be happy for him…

No matter how many times I repeated that sentence in my mind, it was still hard to actually feel that way. Although I prided myself in not being a jealous person, seeing him surrounded by the prettiest dancers in the industry was taking a toll on my own confidence.

Because I was not an idol like Baekhyun, it was difficult to cope with the pressure that dating one brought. Life as a simple office worker had minor complications in comparison to his highly exposed job, but I had never doubted about being with him ever since I met him. The way he had always treated me like he was just a man in love with a woman reassured me every time. 

Our outings were limited. His schedule was different every day, and I had to adjust. It never mattered to me, though. Being with him for a short time was much more precious than what any other guy could have offered.

However, after a year and a half of relationship, I was starting to long for something more than just seeing him at night and sleeping wrapped up in his arms. I needed the dates, the mornings, the family reunions, and the sense that we were building something together. 

And now, seeing his brand new comeback stage, smiling at his female dancers and moving along with their body rolls like he couldn’t stop himself from wanting them, I had had enough. How was it that they got to have him more than I did? Why didn’t he choose to date one of them instead? They were far more gorgeous than I could ever be!

Just as I blocked my phone and threw it out of sight, a very tired Baekhyun opened the bedroom door, placing his bag on the floor.

“Hey, love” His unanswered greeting made him frown, and with a sigh, he approached me from his side of the bed “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Had fun with your dancers?”

The confusion in his eyes was evident even for me, but I just could not care less at that point. He had to know why I was upset.

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed pretty happy in your stage today”

“I was” he nodded, still not getting the point “So what?”

“I guess you liked being with your dancers”

Realization hit him like a truck, but he just sat there, frozen in his spot. I had to look at him to make sure he was still awake because his stillness was starting to bother me. 

“I can’t believe you’re jealous”

One thing was to admit it to myself, but hearing it coming from Baekhyun was more embarrassing than I thought. Despite this, I was still mad and hurt. My feelings were real, and something had triggered them. He had triggered them.

“They are doing their job. I am doing my job” he turned to face me, surprise written all over his features, and I could not hold my tears any longer. He didn’t understand. He was too focused on his work to even notice how badly I was longing for him.

“I no longer feel you want me, Baekhyun” I mumbled, not caring about the tears that endlessly ran down my cheeks. He had to see my pain.

“That’s nonsense, y/n” he tried to hug me, but I didn’t let him. I couldn’t just allow him to embrace me and settle with it. Knowing myself, I was going to accept whatever lame excuse he gave if I was being held by his strong arms. “Please, let’s not argue this late”

“And when do you want to argue, then?” Standing up, I looked at him dead in the eye “When do you have time to even argue with me? You are too busy to realize how dead our relationship is, Baekhyun”

“You really think that’s where we are standing?” his hands gripped his hair, taking it out of his face in the process.

“Yes”

He prompted himself up off the bed and made his way around it to stand in front of me. “I have little saying on how much I work, or with whom I work. I wish it was easier, love. I wish I could be with you every waking hour, every day for the rest of our lives-”

“But there’s nothing you can or will do about it” I interrupted him, knowing that his saying it would wound me ten times more than admitting it myself. 

“That’s how it is, at least for now” he nodded, interlacing his fingers with mine in an attempt to gain me back. 

“You do realize that you spend more time with your dancers than you do with me?” I left his fingers gripping the air as I stepped back to retrieve my pillow. 

“So all of this is just because you’re jealous” he gave a bitter laugh and followed me with his eyes. 

“Read it as you like, Baekhyun.” As I was about to open the door of our room, he stopped me, screaming my name.

“You don’t have to be jealous. I love you and only you. I am sorry that you feel this way about us, but I really do not see how to make it better when the company presses me to do more and more each day.”

Although his struggles were to be expected, my own were too overwhelming and tangible to not let them cloud my judgment. I was upset. It felt like I was about to lose him — and that made my heart ache with grief as if had already happened. 

“That is not what I wanted to hear from you. At least not the last part”

“What do you want me to say then, huh?” When his tone rose, I knew I had to leave the room. He had become angry at me, and it was evident that we were getting nowhere that night.

“Sleep on it” 

Even though my back was never a problem for me, sleeping on the couch was starting to challenge that. No one had ever used it for those purposes, and being the first one to do it settled that it was not made for more than just sitting there for a couple of hours. Yawning my way out of the silky covers, I opened my eyes to see Baekhyun, sitting on the single sofa chair right next to where my feet had rested during the night. He was fast asleep, his head resting on his hand, elbow pressed onto the chair’s armrest. 

With a quick glance at the clock, I stood up and shook him awake “You’re late”

“Called in sick” he yawned, slowly opening his eyes. 

“Are you?” I raised an eyebrow, reaching out to touch his forehead.

“No” Taking my hand from his forehead to his cheek, he looked up from his seating position and kissed the back of my hand “Can we talk now?”

The emotions that had dissipated overnight reappeared, making my eyes fill with tears once again. I nodded. Baekhyun took my wrist and pushed me to sit on his lap, his arms around my waist as he slowly caressed my exposed skin with his thumbs. 

“I am truly sorry about yesterday, and all of the days I made you feel less important than you are. Truth is, it was the first time you showed jealousy and I didn’t know how to handle it. I just thought your emotions were leading your words and you were saying things to hurt my feelings as well. But I slept on it and…” A small laugh escaped my lips and I nodded to let him go on “and I saw where you were coming from.”

“We never see each other, Baek” I cried, emotions taking over once more.

“I was so focused on my work that it was enough having you waiting for me in bed every night. I am so sorry, my darling” Taking his hands from my hips to my cheeks, he wiped away the tears that kept rolling down “I am making some adjustments in my schedule and will make sure to spend more time with you every day of the week. I don’t care what the agency has to say about it. I am famous enough to set some boundaries without them dropping me from the label.”

“They need you more than you need them, baby” I giggled, feeling the contentedness filling my heart, once and for all. 

“You’re right” he smiled, cupping my face with his hands. “I love you”

“I love you” 

His lips met mine in what felt like years. We had not shared a meaningful kiss for a very long time, so I let myself enjoy it with every fiber of my being. 

Pecking my lips in between each word, he announced “I will take you on a date today”

“And what if they see us?” I frowned, combing his hair with my fingers. Oh my, how nice it felt to have him all for myself after such a long time. “You won’t look very sick if we’re out eating and goofing around. Your fans… I don’t know how they would react knowing you didn’t do your interviews but are kissing me instead”

“Are our disguises still in the closet?” he asked, making me chuckle. He truly thought he could fool them with those outfits.  

“You mean our trench coats, masks, and stylish beanies?”

“I prefer to call them disguises” he giggled, attacking my face with wet kisses.

If life with Baekhyun was going to look like this for the rest of our lives, I couldn’t wait.

[lowkeychenle]

You're Not Sorry [ZCL]

Content Warnings: This fic deals with infidelity and is very angsty. Please read with caution if infidelity can be a trigger for you.

Description: You and Chenle broke up two weeks ago. The first time he calls you at 3am, you ignore it. Then he calls again. You answer, and you go to him knowing there's nothing he could do to fix what he's broken.

Genre: Angst. All angst. Help. (but also I pride myself on my angst so maybe read it anyway???)

Word Count: 2,218

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (mentions of Mark at the end, mentions of the Dreamies throughout)

Juliet's Masterlist | Ask Me Anything/Requests

You haven’t heard from Chenle in two weeks. At first, you didn’t want to. Not after everything that happened and what he did. You were perfectly fine with never speaking to him again, but now that he’s been silent, you crave his presence even when you shouldn’t.

At the exact end of week two, your vibrating phone wakes you up at three in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you sit up in bed and grab it. Chenle’s name sits in big letters on your screen, and at first, you’re not sure what to do. Your muscle memory demands you answer him, because it’s obviously important if he’s calling you at 3am, but you don’t want to go down the wrong path. You don’t want to risk forgiving him simply because you’re sad, hurt, and lonely.

Your palms sweat and your heart races as you continue to stare. When it fades to black again, you finally feel like you can breathe. You exhale shakily, suddenly wide awake at the intrusion of him. At that moment, you decide that you’ll answer if he calls a second time. If he does, it must be important. He could be in danger somewhere.

A minute passes. Two. You think you’re in the clear. It was another lame attempt to get you to talk to him, clearly. None of that matters. You can’t trust him anymore, no matter how much he insists he made a mistake.

3:03am comes around and your phone vibrates again. You grab it faster than you care to admit.

“What?” you snap.

He doesn’t say anything yet. You hear him breathing shakily, but that’s it.

“If you don’t tell me why you’re calling, I’m hanging up.”

“Please don’t.” His voice is fragile, thick. “Please.”

You don’t know where he’s at, but you can imagine. You imagine him in his bed, blinking past tears, staring at his ceiling as he yearns to have you next to him. But you didn’t ruin that image—he did. All of this is his fault.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Did you need something?” you hiss, pushing the words past the lump in your throat. “Or did you call to make things harder for everyone?”

“Yeah,” he inhales sharply. “I…something happened with the car, and I’m just sitting on the side of the road. The managers don’t know I left, and if I call them, I’ll get in so much trouble—”

“Are you just now learning that your actions have consequences, Chenle?” You don’t mean to sound so harsh, because at the end of the day, you still love him. You love him way more than you should and way more than you want to.

“(Y/N), please.” He pauses.

“What about the boys?”

“You know why I can’t call them.”

Oh, right. They’re even more pissed at him than you are.

“It’s okay if you hate me,” he mutters. “It really is. I don’t blame you, but I need you. Don’t make me do this alone.”

Your heart twists so violently in your chest, you swear you feel a rib crack. Chenle, if nothing else, has always been good at making you feel. Whether it’s happiness, heartbreak, or hurt, you feel it.

“Damn it.” You shake your head, throwing your comforter off your lap. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you.” The relief in his voice sends another pang through you.

“Don’t get used to it. And don’t you dare ever do something stupid that I have to save you from again. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah. I won’t.”

You hang up on him while cursing under your breath. After all of this, you’re still going to help him?

Of course, you are.

He’s Chenle, and you’re you. Forever intertwined even when it breaks you into pieces to realize that. Soon enough, all that will be left is the one part of you attached to him—your heart. The rest of you will break down, disappear, but somehow, he’ll have your heart in his hand, squeezing it much too tightly for comfort.

Your phone vibrates once to indicate he sent you his location, and you pull on a pair of sweatpants and run a brush through your hair. Before you know it, you’re driving to the literal middle of nowhere at 3:30am to pick up your ex-boyfriend.

You see the familiar black SUV, the one with the blacked out windows and special license plate, and you park your car behind it. Taking one last deep breath, you stare as he climbs out of the driver’s seat.

Even though it’s only truly been a couple weeks, it seems as if it’s been years. Decades. And him looking exactly the same as the man you once knew has you shaking. You’re not sure what to say to him when he sits down in your passenger seat, but his beautiful brown gaze meets yours.

The lights are dim, but it’s enough to see the redness on his cheeks, in his eyes, at the tip of his nose. His jaw quivers at the sight of you, but that’s when the lights fade to black. The new moon isn’t even enough to give him a glimpse of you. Blue LEDs are all that’s left—the quiet glow bouncing off his skin and making him realer. He’s sitting right in front of you, a longing look on his face as if he’s not the one who fucked everything up in the first place.

“What the hell are you doing out at 3 in the morning?” you ask him, driving off.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs, hands fidgeting in his lap.

You spend the majority of the ride in complete silence. The radio is off, and all you hear is him trying to breathe normally. You’re not much better, either. You blink back tears, refusing to let him see how upset you are by all of this. If he loved you, he never would’ve done it in the first place. You have to remember that.

It’s not until you pull into his driveway that he speaks.

“They’re so mad at me.” He looks straight forward, neither of you brave enough to initiate eye contact.

“They should be. Deserve to be, actually. You didn’t just hurt me, you know.” You grip the steering wheel until your knuckles pale, wishing he would get out and go inside.

“I’m mad at them, too.” He wets his lips.

“You’re mad at them for what?” You scoff, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Mad because they caught you in the first place? Or mad because they all agreed to tell me?”

“It’s not any of their business.”

“Oh, right, so you’d never tell me. You’d let me continue to love you when you couldn’t be bothered to give me the same?” You’re not sure where your confidence is coming from. This is Chenle—the man you love, and someone you never imagined would put you in a situation like this.

“It was a mistake—”

“It doesn’t matter. It happened. You fucked up. They’re the best people, you know that? You’re pissed because all six of them are better than you. Because none of them would’ve ever stooped to the level you went. And because you hate the idea that someone else is able to comfort me. What did you expect? That they would comfort you?” Your grip tightens somehow, and you finally look at him.

He’s in tears. The liquid running down his cheeks reflects the luminescent blue, and it’s almost enough to make you feel bad for him.

“It wasn’t even once, either. It was twice. You did it twice.” You let out a throaty laugh, knowing this is the furthest thing from funny.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to lose you, ever. We’re supposed to get married and have cute babies that look like you, and—”

“We don’t get to do those things anymore,” you snap, shaking your head.

“Do you hate me?” he whispers. “You should, but I can’t handle the thought of that.”

“Hate you.” You drop your head back on the seat. “I wish I could. I wish I could stop loving you because it hurts so fucking bad. You threw away everything, and for what?”

“I can do better.”

“You don’t get the opportunity.”

“Please. I know I can do this.” His eyes widen and his eyebrows furrow, truly pleading.

“Staying faithful shouldn’t be hard, Chenle.”

“I love you.” His voice doesn’t break. It shatters. “Baby, please.”

“If you love me, you’ll respect my decision. You’ll just leave.” You close your eyes, and a tear runs down your cheek.

He, instinctively, you assume, reaches up and swipes his thumb across your skin. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Consequences,” you repeat. “Your actions have consequences.”

Regardless of what you should or shouldn’t do, you lean into his touch. Into the warmth his skin provides that you’re scared you’ll never feel from someone else ever again.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I did, and you shouldn’t either. But please know I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

“Chenle,” you murmur.

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me anymore.” You gulp. “I won’t answer.”

You see the hurt play out on his face, but you know it’s only a fraction of what he put you through.

When he opens the door, the frigid air replaces him. A shiver runs through you, but you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the way it feels like your heart and soul are being ripped to shreds for a second time.

You thought he was the one. You thought he was perfect for you. Perfect in general.

You thought you didn’t deserve him, and it’s a damn shame that it took until now for you to realize it’s the other way around.

He stands in the driveway, illuminated by your headlights until you’re pulling away and driving off down the street. You watch him through your rearview mirror, holding your breath as he gets smaller and smaller.

As soon as he’s gone from your sight, a sob cracks open your chest. You scream and cry for all the things you lost, and you don’t even know where to go from here. You’re barely a mile away from Chenle’s when your phone starts ringing again.

Your chest still shakes from the pain, but you answer Mark’s call.

“Yeah?” You sniffle, aggressively wiping your eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks quickly, voice laced with worry. “I swear, I was dead asleep and then I just…I woke up. And then I saw your location at Chenle’s, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m okay. He was stranded and called me for a ride home.”

Mark sighs. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). You should’ve called one of us.”

“I know.” You run your fingers through your hair. “I’ll be fine. I just need to go back to sleep.”

“Do you want to come here?” he offers. “You don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be.”

You contemplate for a moment. When the boys sat you down to tell you what Chenle had done, Mark was the one who made sure you got home alright. He stayed with you for that one night to make sure Chenle didn’t show up after you broke things off.

“Can I do that?” you whisper, afraid your voice will break if you speak any louder.

“Of course,” he says. You hear him shuffle around in the background, presumably getting out of bed.

“Thank you,” you say, relieved. “It’s literally taking all of my strength not to turn around and go back to him.”

“Doesn’t matter what he thinks, you’re a part of us now, okay? We take care of our own,” Mark replies. “Just get here safe.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up, switching directions to find Mark and Haechan’s apartment. When you park your car in the lot, it takes a few minutes to work up the courage to get out.

And then you’re standing in front of the building, looking up to the fifth floor where you know they’re at. The air is so frigid, you can see your breath clouding around you. It sinks into your skin, into your bones, but for some reason, it’s the first time tonight that you feel you can breathe. As the chill sets in, so does reality. So does the truth.

A man who loves you won’t do the things Chenle did. He wouldn’t be defensive if his friends told you about it, and he certainly wouldn’t be calling you at 3am, crying and begging for help.

You inhale deeply, tasting the freezing cold as if it’s palpable.

It’s not going to be easy. In fact, it’ll probably be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but this was the last straw. You don’t want to be in pain. Or feel unloved. You know you deserve more than that.

You promise yourself at that very moment that you’ll never allow yourself to go back.

You’re going to get over Zhong Chenle, even if it tears you to shreds in the process.

It can’t be worse than what he’s already done.

[iouinotes]

Burning Love | Leo Valdez

pairing: Leo Valdez x aphrodite!reader

book: The Heros of Olympians (Percy Jackson Universe) by Rick Riordan

I DONT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS

warnings: suggestive themes (kissing), little bit of angst

summary: reader fell in love with the camps busiest, funniest (prettiest) demigod, that makes her heart beat faster (and tries not to burst into flames all the time). But she likes that about him too.

authors note: soo, I read Heros of Olympus and Leo was just pure comedy. His character was so charasmatic and funny, I really liked him. Of course, I needed to write for him, ENJOYYYY

________________________________________

Of course I was doomed to fall in love with him. Letting my heart get broken in the process, because I am physically not able to dare myself to talk to him.

What else had I expected? As a daughter of Aphrodite, this was foreseen in my fate. Well, actually it should be the other way around. After all, the ongoing tradition for centuries of the Aphrodite cabin is to break a boy's heart, but in my case it is a little complicated.

I always thought love would be something pleasant, a feeling like butterflies flying around in your stomach and wearing stylish, rose-colored glasses, that makes everything he does seem perfect. Or maybe being in love would feel like watching a beautiful fire work.

The last part is sort of true- my love literally burns for him, just as sometimes his hair sparks, when red flames are dancing through the brown strands.

I remember one time very vividly, when he walked out of the forest, visibly happy, with his hands dirty and his clothes smeared with motor oil, a satisfied grin on his face. His eyes would lighten up, as soon as found someone to talk about his projects.

Leo Valdez is the embodiment of a loyal soul, combined with an incredible humor and a talent for fixing literally anything. And I silently wish sometimes, that he could mend my broken heart too.

He's not like the other guys in this camp who always need attention, act like they're the best, like they're above everyone. No, Leo may have his pride, but he knows what he can do and he knows when to ask for help. This is usually connected with a following joke or a charming grin.

When I look at him, I often wonder how he can be so unconsciously attractive.

It's just that when my eyes find him, I'm almost in another world. And there, only he exists.

It's like he can affect my heartbeat, confuse my thoughts, charge me with electricity and set my heart on fire. All with just a lame joke, a funny remark, a wink or one of his exaggerated smiles.

I don't dare talk to him, only watch his figure from a safe distance, in a crowd where my longing stares go unnoticed. In these moments, where I realise he doesn't even know me, my emotions feel so overwhelming, as if I am the one carrying the sky instead of Atlas.

I wish I had more control over myself, that my cheeks wouldn't blush every time he glanced my way. Because he does that every now and then. And I always stare at the floor in a matter of seconds, letting my hair fall in front of my face. After all, I can't like him that obvious.

Even though I was careful, my feelings were noticed by a few others, all from my cabin. Unfortunately Piper did too. In her opinion, I should just walk up to him, bat my eyelashes and start smiling. She´s convinced, that if I would just talk to him, he would like me.

But that's the problem. If he only liked me, I couldn't handle that. If I actually became friends with him and he wouldnt fall in love with me, then I could be close to him. I mean, not in the way I want it. Like holding his hand, styling his burning hair, kissing him, watching him build something. And being crazy and proud about it afterwards, showing it off with an excited look in his eyes. Wanting appreciation for his work.

I would gladly fulfill his every wish, if he asked.

But it would be terrible having to pretend not to be completely in love with him, at least if I had to let him believe that. Maybe it's actually better if I keep my distance and he never finds out about my crush. Maybe, I would start to believe it too.

All the thoughts make my head ache and I open my eyes to concentrate on something else.

The sun shines on my skin, the waves hit the beach loudly, the straps of my green bikini top hang loosely over my shoulder. I braid a few small braids into my hair, two in the front and one in the back, where my sister helped me. I still leave my hair down so that it tickles my shoulder, I find to like it more that way.

I brush the sand off my shorts and slowly stand up, stretching my muscles and feeling a light breeze on my skin. The summer months are always the most beautiful, such as the holidays are always the quietest time. The camp is emptier than usual, many campers are spending the holidays with their families. Of course with their mortal family, the gods are not very generous when it comes to holiday visits. Nevertheless, the idea of ​​staying on Mount Olympus for two weeks is ridiculous anyway.

Still, there are a few people left behind, including me. My father died a few years ago, and our family is so scattered around the world, so I have no close contact with them. I wouldn't want to put anyone in danger anyway. It's always sad to hear how happy the others are going home, even though I'm happy for them. But for me, Camp Half Blood is my home.

For my benefit, it is the same for Leo. I don't know much about his past, but he doesn't have a parent to visit either. But he claims, that he has more time now to work on his project, something that needs to be finished until the summer solistice arrives.

The path to the camp leads through the forest, always a bit of a nuisance with all the branches and angry nymphs that sometimes insult you. Just because you accidentally stepped on a root or sang too loudly.

Anyway, I just whistle quietly to myself, after all I'm not keen on arguing today and I'm just looking around lost in my thoughts. And because I have nothing to do, I stroll along a few other paths and explore the forest, looking up to the sky and watching the birds. It's quiet and peaceful, it feels beautiful.

Several minutes must have passed because the sun is getting closer to the horizon and the air cools down. I put on the jacket that hangs around my waist, leaving it open and continue to show my skin. When I choose another path, I suddenly see a clearing infront of me.

The next thing I know, I almost have a heart attack. In front of me lays a huge ship with a dragon's head attached to the front. I feel like I almost want to run away, but then I remember something. I know this dragon. It is Leo's metallic friend Festus, who was destroyed on their first quest. I know, because I remember the devastated look on his face, when he talked about it.

Okay, I think to myself. Two options, I go back to camp and forget I was here. Or I'll go in and have a look around. Would that be an invasion of his privacy? But if I would meet him there, we could share a moment. Like in these romance books I read about.

I think for a moment, but being curious was always a bad habit of mine. My legs move in the direction of the ship, it takes me a few minutes to find the entrance, but I manage. When I'm inside I'm amazed, my eyes seem to can't see enough. There are banners with funny inscriptions, maps full of plans, forgotten tools, furniture and weapons hanging everywhere. It's such a mess that it clearly has Leo's handwriting on it.

My fingers run over the open books, I read a few sentences and try to understand the technical language. Maybe he'll like me if I could actually understand his interests. But after just two pages it's hard to remember which button is for which function or which metal is the strongest. I could try to get the same copy, but when I try to read the title, the cover is torn and illegible. And not because of my dyslexia.

I'm so absorbed in my surroundings that I don't hear the footsteps coming. And then I almost have a heart attack for the second time, only this time from someone I'm used for it to happen.

"If I had known I would have visitors today, I would have cleaned." At his voice I freeze. I remind myself to breathe. I slowly turn around, my eyes immediately finding his face, a grin graces his lips, his hair is sweaty and when I lower my gaze, I notice that he is only wearing an apron. Which means, he is shirtless underneath.

Does he want to kill me?

Before I can say anything, he speaks again. Sweet like always.

"I think I know you. You're one of Piper's siblings. She's not here if you're looking for her?" His eyes look apologetically in my direction and I feel my heart beating in my chest. I've never spoken to him. Would now be the right time to ask the gods for help?

"No I- I'm not looking for her." I see his eyebrows raise in question.

"No? Then what gives me the honor?" As he takes a few steps towards me, I almost lose myself in his eyes. Brown and warm, as if a fire of its own glowed within them.

I feel the table at my back and say the first thing that comes to mind.

"The- uh, books." Crap. What should I do now?

"The books here? What do you need them for?" It feels like the temperature is rising, but I don't know if it's me or him. I mean, he's the one who can conjure fire with his bare hands.

"I like to read and thought it would be good to learn something about...metal?" That's probably the stupidest thing I've ever said and I can feel my cheeks turn red again.

"Oh well, luckily I can help you with that. Although I don't read the books for my enjoyment, they are quite useful. Are you looking for specific bands?" He is now standing next to me, looking at me from between the books that are laying on the table.

"No...not really. I thought I might ask you? After all, you are an expert." He seems to like the compliment, because his eyes light up and he winks at me.

"To be honest, I think it's better to learn something from practice. But I can show you some of the books later. Do you want to see what I'm currently working on? I won't light anything on fire in your presence, promise."

His comment makes me laugh and I feel myself relax, I nod and try to mentally prepare myself not to show my admiration for him too much.

He goes ahead and explains some of the functions of his ship - the Argo II. Seeing how proud he is and how he glows with an aura of joy make me never want to let me take my eyes off him.

He's so charismatic and I almost laugh at every word that comes out of his mouth. I feel so comfortable around him. And I didn't think it was possible, but actually talking to him, just made me fall in love with him even more.

He shows me his collection of tools, his magic table, the functions of the different rooms and finally his belt. Which allows him to create almost any tool he wants. It is fascinating, all of it. Him.

"It was just left behind, when I found it here. Whoever left it must have been crazy and I mean crazier than me." We stand facing each other and I smile at him. He looks at me too and I'm weak for just a moment. It's only for a second, when my eyes linger on his lips.

“Did you really come here for the books?" My eyes slowly find his and I shake my head.

"Then why?" We're so close, I can see every birthmark and every stray strand of hair on his forehead.

"I just-" our faces are so close, as if something is pulling us together. I feel his breathing, the heat radiating from him, my heart is beating as fast as if it couldn't keep up.

"-think I'm in love with you, Valdez and I will probably burst in flames, if I would kiss you now. But- thats just a side effect. Can-can I kiss you?" I notice, the tips of his hair bursting into flames.

"You wouldn't even need to charmspeak me to convince me, beautiful."

When I kissed him, the irony of our world hit me, because this time I was the one who felt like I was on fire.

[morbidanthem]

King of Gluttony - 1,184 Words [Ao3 Link]

You stared down into the busy streets of Abyssos, smiling as you had the perfect view of the famous family district.

This land had a reputation for being a den of debauchery, but it could actually be a great place to visit with your family if you knew where to go.

It warms your heart watching all the families having fun in the big park. Everyone was laughing, running around, and just having a relaxing day under the sun.

It also made your heart ache just a little.

You remember all the good times- the ones you shared with your parents before they were killed…

The trips to your local park, the family dinners out at local restaurants, and even silly little school functions that invited families to join in.

All of this reminiscing and watching…

It made you muse that maybe you wanted to take that next step in your life.

You just needed a little stability first, and with the King of Gluttony not even here, you sometimes felt that this kind of life would never be within reach.

Besides, Devils for Abyssos really didn't make commitments like that.

It almost felt selfish to ask such things like that of him.

“Hey Cutie, what are you thinking about so deeply?” A deep masculine voice asked, making you jump six feet in the air.

You placed your hand on your chest, sighing as you realized it was only Beel.

“Beelzebub, you scared me half to death!” You scolded, holding your arms out with a big smile, awaiting for him to hug you. He happily obliged, like a puppy reuniting with its owner, burying his head in your neck taking a big whiff of you as he settled into your arms.

“I wasn't expecting you to be back so soon.” You said, running your fingers through his knotted hair.

“Hmm, I just felt like coming back for some reason.” He shrugged, leaning into your touch.

He looked out the window, trying to figure out what it was you were staring at, but he just couldn't figure it out.

What was so great about a lame and boring park?

“What were you looking at just now? You made me curious.” He said, pulling away from you to press himself up against the glass of the window.

He was never one to miss out on something fun, now was he?

“Ah, that.” you suddenly spoke softly, looking down at the ground as you tried your best to tell Beelzebub what it was that was on your mind.

You wanted to be honest with him, but you also knew that your honesty could potentially hurt him.

He was a demon who took such pride in his little disappearing acts- he did not strike you as someone who would be very happy being tied down by a baby.

Being obligated to a family was a whole lot to ask, and you didn’t wish to burden him anymore than you already felt like you were.

“Hmm- something is wrong, I can smell it.” He said, lifting himself off of the window to get closer to you.

“You- you can smell it?!” You shouted in shock, giving the lord of the flies a very quizzical look.

“Of course!” He boasted, smiling widely as he spoke. “Anytime your mood changes, there is a noticeable change in your smell!”

“Wha-what?!” You asked again, looking up at him. “You mean you can tell all of that just from the way I smell?!”

“Yup!” He laughed, pulling you into him, as he laid his head atop yours. “I know I'm not really good at, like, comforting you.”

He said, pulling away, using his hand to tilt your gaze up to look at him.

“I still want to be the one you come to when you have a problem. I told you, just say my name, and I'll appear.”

You smiled, feeling his energy flowing into you.

“It's going to sound silly, but I was just thinking about how nice it would be to take that next step in my life… to become a mom.” You spoke, looking back out the window and towards the streets below.

You sighed dreamily, watching a demon mother twirl her child in her arms.

“... A what now?” Beel asked again, leaning in closer to you to make sure he heard you right.

“I was thinking, I wanted to have a baby.” You said. “With you!”

You added on quickly at the end, knowing it was a very real possibility that Beelzebub would just go and take one from somewhere.

You read a story about that once, it was terrifying!

With all of his wild and free type of energy, you wouldn't put it past him.

“With me?” He froze, pointing at himself, as he tried to process that information.

One minute went by.

Three minutes went by.

“Er, Beel… You ok?” You asked, stepping up to him, wrapping your arms around his chest.

You looked down at your phone, clocking his frozen state at about Five minutes.

“I'm sorry, Beelzebub.” You apologized, rubbing your face into his chest. “I didn't want to tell you! I just felt like maybe you should know. We don't have to! We can always-” you began to rant, but got cut off by Beelzebub's deep voice.

“If…” He began, looking down at you while still pointing at himself. “If you did, theoretically, have my baby… would you stay here in Abyssos?”

His tone sounded serious, more serious than you've ever heard it before.

“Of course I would, I wouldn't-” before you could finish, you found yourself being lifted up, your back being pressed up against the glass.

Beel had you in a death grip, his hands under your thighs, squeezing you so roughly through your pants that you could swear he was leaving marks on your skin.

Your core was lined up perfectly with his, and you gasped wantonly as you felt his dick rubbing against you through his own pants.

He used your gasp as an excuse to kiss you, pressing his lips harshly onto yours as he sloppily shoving his tongue down your throat with no warning. You gagged at the sensation, using your arms to grip tightly onto his shoulders, pushing against him lightly in an attempt to ask him to ease up.

He never eases up, and it took you a few seconds to finally catch up with him, but once you did you could swear that you could feel the intensity spilling out of him.

It was incredibly arousing, whining loudly as he began to grind on you like an animal in heat.

“This is a yes, right?” You asked, finally able to pull yourself off of his mouth long enough to ask.

Beelzebub just laughed, licking and sucking on your neck as you began to grind on him as well.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

Hopefully Beelzebub can be done before Bael catches wind that he is back in the Palace.

If he found out, there would be no more time for fun and games.

[turvi]

Hello again. It’s me the not Snape lover who is questioning their whole existence because of your fic. My whole feed is full of Snape fics now and I’m taking it as a sign from my FBI agent to lean into this new life. I don’t know if your requests are open so if not then please ignore me but if they are, would you be open to writing about the reader who is either James or Sirius’ sibling and they’re dating Snape and just the chaos it would cause? I love your work so much!!

Thanks for all the love I was planning a Snape angst. But now I am gonna save the best for the last. I hope you enjoy this.

WARNING: KISSING, GOOD OLD SIBLING CHAOS

"Come on, please, you must like someone." Sirius was determined to find out who his baby sister had a crush on. He was always prideful that Y/n preferred to open up to him rather than Regulus. Not that Regulus minded. He was happy not knowing anything about his siblings' love life drama (yet he always knew what was going on).

"I don't like anyone, Siri...gosh. Why is it hard for you to believe I am happily single?"

Sirius squinted his eyes. "Stop hanging out with Reggie. You are getting lame like him."

"You are lame."

Sirius gasped and threw a pillow at her.

"Very mature of you, Sirius Black." Y/n threw the pillow back at him, which he caught with one hand and kept hitting her. "Stop it, you dunderhead."

Sirius chuckled. "Ha, you sound like Snivellus."

Y/n froze. Sirius looked at her, concerned. "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" He immediately threw away the pillow and rubbed her head, thinking he had hurt her, and Y/n let him. She didn't want to have an awkward conversation. Not yet.

...........................................................

Y/n walked out of her room. She had a feeling Sirius had noticed the change in her behaviour. As she was developing a brilliant plan to avoid him, she felt a pair of familiar arms around her waist.

"Hello, love." she sighed as she felt his arms tighten around her.

"Did I tell you your voice is my favourite thing about you?"

Severus pulled her chin up to make her look at him. Y/n could only wonder how her brother and friends called him ugly. But then again, people call the moon beautiful, and even the moon is imperfect.

Y/n's eyes fluttered as she felt his lips on her. She was about to pull away when she felt his hand on the nape of her neck. Her eyes widened as the kiss grew heated, and she felt his tongue on her lips when suddenly she heard a shriek.

The couple immediately pulled away when they heard it. Y/n cringed as the footsteps grew louder. Severus immediately put himself between Y/n and Sirius.

"Snivellus, how dare you even touch my sister?!"

Severus said with a smug smile. "Like this?"

He twirled Y/n and leaned her down, kissing her with so much passion Y/n forgot Sirius was standing right there.

"I am standing right here!!" Sirius' high-pitched voice echoed in the hall as he pulled Severus away from Y/n.

Severus groaned and rolled his eyes as he watched Sirius coddle Y/n. "Are you alright?" He immediately turned to Severus, fury filling his eyes. "How dare you get your grimy hands on my sister?"

"SIRIUS!" Y/n pulled him away as he was raising his hand. "Don't you dare talk to my boyfriend like that."

Sirius felt like his world was ending. He saw the smug smile spreading on Severus' face and that made it worse.

"My baby sister loves Snivellus." He stared into the void as Y/n held him. "He...Snivellous is going to be a part of my family tree!! ugh"

Y/n blushed. "Well, we didn't-

"Yes," Severus' determined tone made her blush even harder.

"Really?" Y/n left Sirius' side, not realising the pout on his face as she left her dear brother for the dungeon bat.

Severus caressed her cheek, looking into her eyes with a promise. "I will marry you." It was not a question. And Y/n felt dizzy. When Severus was so confident, it made her weak in the knees. Maybe he could dom-

"Excuse me!" Sirius shrieked again. "That's my sister."

"Really? I didn't know." Severus smirked as Sirius sat on the floor, having an existential crisis. "Snivellus is gonna be my brother-in-law." His voice cracked.

Y/n sighed. "Sirius, get up. Don't be like this. Come on."

"Y/nn, there are an uncountable number of boys in Hogwarts. Why him?"

Y/n noticed they were starting to attract a crowd. "Sirius, come on, get up."

Severus chuckled. "No, let him be. I am enjoying this."

She glared at him, and it shut him up. "He is still my brother."

"Utter shame," Severus muttered, only to immediately apologise. "Okay, mutt, get up."

"Get your grimy hands off me, Snivellus."

"Ok, enough, you two. You two are behaving like a child and creating a spectacle of yourselves."

Sirius looked at her. "You really mean it? You love him?"

"I wanna spend my life with him." She earnestly told him, hoping he adjusted to this new development.

"You better not hurt my baby sister Snivellus."

Y/n rubbed Severus' back as an apology. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her neck. "I am okay, darling...it was not that bad. I am sure he will accept me soon. He loves you."

Severus had a smug smile, and Y/n squinted her eyes at him. "What?"

"You want to spend your life with me? Am I that good in bed?" his voice dropped an octave that sent shivers through her spine.

Y/n scoffed. "You wish-

Severus tugged her closer, kissing her and cradling her head, holding her close, not wanting to let her go now...not ever.

A/N: I love me some smug Snape and dramatic Sirius. I hope you like this. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[scotianostra]

Happy 92nd Birthday veteran Scottish actress Phyllida Law, born on May *8th 1932 in Glasgow.

Wiki has 8th July on the first line of their page on Phyllida, but on the side panel has May 8th, so who knows!?

There is very little about her early life except she was born in Glasgow, the daughter of Megsie “Meg” and William Law, a journalist. She said once of he Glasgow upbringing “When you grow up in Glasgow with a Glaswegian granny, you’re taught that pride is a wicked thing. I still feel a bit like that.“ Phyllida grew up in Glasgow’s west end, just off Great Western Road, but war broke out when she was just seven and she found herself evacuated to places such as Lenzie, in Dunbartonshire, and Skelmorlie, Ayrshire.

That gave her a love for the Scots countryside which means she now splits her life between her home in London and a family cottage in Argyll. Phyllida would fit in well with the Scottish & Proud ethos, in an interview she says:

“I’m passionate about my Scots heritage. How could I not be? I can’t live without it. There’s no way I could live without those hills and it’s got to be the west coast. “I sometimes travel to Edinburgh then go up to Pittenweem or somewhere and I think to myself, ‘This isn’t Scotland.’ It’s a wonderful coastline but it’s not Scotland for me.

“When my parents lived in Glasgow they were always looking for a cottage to which they could retire. They found one in Ardentinney, so I visit that a lot.

She joined the Bristol Old Vic in 1952, from what I can gather she was first in the wardrobe department, the first pic shows her standing, from a 1952 photo. Heron screen acting credits start in 1958 and are very extensive, the pick of them are Dixon of Dock Green and a stint as the storyteller in the great children’s show Jackanory in the 60’s. It must have been during her time in the BBC’s children’s TV department she met her husband to be The Magic Roundabout narrator Eric Thompson, She has previously stated that the character of Ermintrude the cow was modelled on her.

Angels in the 70’s and of course Taggart in the 80’s as well Thomson, the variety series hosted by actress Emma Thompson in 1988, Emma just happens to be her daughter. Heartbeat, Hamish Macbeth and Dangerfield in the 90’s, Waking the dead and Doctors in the noughties has kept her busy, now in her 86th year she has still been appearing on the small screen, in The Other Wife and New Tricks during the past 8 years. Film roles include She is known for her work on Much Ado About Nothing , The Time Machine and The Winter Guest.

Phyllida spends most of her time in Argyll in a house she shares with her daughter Emma. who is spending more time looking after her mother, as she was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease in 2915.

Phyllida constantly needs the support of a wheelchair and even assistance when washing due to the effect the condition is having on her.

Due to the progressive nature of the condition, symptoms tend to gradually worsen over time. It is common for individuals to struggle both with walking and talking at the height of the condition.

Phyllida herself spoke about the burdens of looking after an infirm parent, she looked after her mother, Meg who suffered with Alzheimer’s disease. Mego died in 1994 aged 93 after almost 20 years of being cared for by Ms Law at her mother's home in the village of Ardentinny on the west coast, near Dunoon.

Emma said of her mother “Mum is quite lame so it's a case of taking her out in a wheelchair, and making sure she takes her medication. The meds are amazing."

[naiomiirayn]

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝙃𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣/𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Pairings: Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary: You broke up with Hobie after one too many times of him bailing on you and your plans together. He ends up showing up at your house to apologize and make things right.

Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending

Extra(s): There are no specifications for anything (gender or any kind of attributes but if you catch any please let me know so I can fix it immediately) just so everyone can read:)

I got most of the beginning/intro from the Character AI app, but I did make some changes. These are just "texts" I made with the bot. The creator for the bot is @/fairybaby, or Della Rose is their username.

Also, there is very little to no British terms in this because I have no clue what kind of slang they actually use and I don't want to get anything wrong. Enjoy!

P.S. This is my first ever fic I'm actually publishing.. I’m aware there’s too much explaining but wtv:P

Hearing a knock on the door you walk over curiously and open it, but as soon as you see who's on the other side you quickly try and close it, when a hand pushes against it.

"Please just let me in so we can talk, love." He's apologized- three times- for missing another date. You know he's busy. Dismantling systems of oppression doesn't give him a lot of free time. He spends whatever time he can with you, obviously, but he knows it's not nearly enough. He doesn't like labels but that doesn't matter-you and him are together. It doesn't matter that you're a little mad, you're still his.

"Hobie, what are you doing here?" He hears the tone of frustration and sadness in your voice, a sound that tugs at his heart strings. He hates that he's made you feel this way, again. He frowns, hurt by your response.

"I missed you. I wanted to talk to you." His voice is hushed and soft. He keeps his distance for now, watching you with his dark eyes. He is used to being that way, he always had been until you showed up. You've changed him for the better and he doesn't want to lose you. He hears you sigh and looks back up, not realizing he had even dropped his head.

"Fine.. Come in." He sees you move away from the door and walk to the couch. He quickly steps in before you can change your mind and shuts the door behind himself. He moves hesitantly towards your direction, not knowing if he should sit or stand for this. You seem to make the decision for him when you pat the seat next to you. He tries to make eye contact but you're not looking in his direction, so he just takes a seat, a little further than necessary considering the circumstances.

"Can you forgive me?" He hears himself blurt out lamely before he can even stop himself and he cringes slightly. Hobie isn't a prideful person, but he understands that he messed up, and he knows how upset with him you are but that's not a reason to stay apart. in his mind, at least. He sees you look back over to him and frown, your eyebrows furrowing and your lips forming into a slight pout. He can't help but admire you a bit, even if now isn't the best time to do so.

"I don't know if I can Hobie, you broke yet another promise to me. I'm just so tired of this happening all the time."

"Oh..." His heart dropped. He doesn't know what he expected but he had at least hoped that you'd forgive him, let him try again. "Listen, [Name], I'm so sorry, and I know you're tired of hearing it- believe me I'm tired of saying it- but I mean it this time. Please, forgive me I know I can do better; I'll show you I can do better." His voice thick with so many emotions that it makes his accent more prominent, but he can't bring himself to care anymore. He needs to get his point across, he can't lose you he won't lose you.

He sees your gaze turn more relenting and soft and he suddenly feels a bit hopeful. "Yea.. I forgive you-" Your smile turns soft before it drops again, and he's confused and worried on why your expression suddenly turns hurt. "-but that doesn't mean we're back together." You turn away from him again.

He's okay with that- you can both start again. He knows he messed up and he accepts full responsibility of that. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. "Then.. Then how about friends? We can just be friends for now, with the potential to get back together." He adds hopefully, trying to calm himself and his thoughts that are running wild right now. He doesn't want to rush you, and he's not sure when you'll be ready to try again, but he's willing to be patient.

"That's the thing Hobes.. You never seem to have time for me with everything that you do, and that's okay I understand that those things are important to you but.. I just don't know if I can do that again. I won't do that again..." He feels his heart shatter, letting hurt fade into his expression as he looks away. "I still love you and I do want to be with you but you have to understand that you can't balance everything. I'm tired of being left out, I'm sorry."

He sighs and rubs at his eyes in frustration, wondering what he can say to make things better. "I do know what you mean," he admits eventually, "and I swear to you, I'll put my work down and spend more time with you whenever you want." He isn't quite sure if he'd be able to do that entirely, but when it comes to you, he's more than willing to try.

"I don't know if I can ask you to give up something so important. Those things need way more attention than just.. me." He sees them shrug and look away, fiddling with the hem of their shirt; a habit they picked up from him.

"It isn't important. Not more than you." He speaks softly, the gentleness of his voice belying the genuine sincerity of his words and he takes your hands in his and when you look at him, he continues. "You're way more important to me than fighting injustice, more than taking down evil, more than anything else." He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words as he's never been too good at expressing his emotions-yet another thing that you've changed about him. "I love you, more than I've ever loved anything else, and I need you to know that. I will do anything for you, and I mean that. Anything."

You widen your eyes a bit at his statement, and he can see the blush start to creep up your cheeks. "You.. really mean that..?" He hears the unsurety in your voice and he nods. He means it and he doesn't hesitate in his reply.

"Anything." His voice is still gentle and calm. "I'll do anything to convince you that I'll make the time for you." He sees your beautiful smile start to come back and he didn't realize how much he'd missed it until now.

"Okay.. We can try again then," There's a pause before you say something again. "but don't make any plans with me until you're 100% sure that you're free, do you understand me?" He feels a smile tug at his lips as he takes one of their hands in his, lifting it up to his face to kiss the back of it.

"I understand." He nods and breathes a sigh of relief from his nose. There's no more reason to be confused or angry and hurt. He gets his partner back. His other half, and it's more than he could ever wish for.

He could do better this time, no, he would do better this time. He wouldn't promise because he'd made too many of those, but he'd show you instead. Show you he values you and your time over anything else.

To hell with whoever said anything to him about it.

[bittersweet-innocence]

The Duke

CW: platonic yandere, mentions of death, light angst

WC: 3,614

Gender Neutral Reader

You were trying to be nice. You were making an effort, but his flat tone and cold stare just made any hope you had die like a fire in the rain. The cake wasn’t perfect, in fact it was sloppy and probably didn’t taste very great despite your best efforts, but it was the thought that counted, right.

“I don’t see how this is any concern of yours. Honestly, what are you doing?” He said flatly. He was annoyed. You tried to keep your smile, but you felt your eye twitch as you shifted you weight from foot to foot. Your patience with him and his cold shoulder was wearing thin.

Two years of marriage and you had nothing to show for it. No heir to show, not even a smidge of happiness. Just misery on both sides.

“It’s called being kind.” You say, your voice flatter than you meant. This wasn’t going to turn out well. “You could at least spend your birthday with someone rather than being cooped up in your estate like a hermit.”

You push the cake forward insistently as your eyes narrow. “Even if you don’t want to spend it with me, just take the damned cake.”

You saw him bristle and you wanted to take your words back. He was touchy enough as is, but you should have refrained from calling him a hermit. For someone so miserable, he never liked to he called out on it.

“I don’t care for celebrations.” He said, his tone harsher than necessary. “Besides, everyone would see it as insulting to my wife to celebrate this day when I can’t.”

You held back a sigh. You sympathized with him for his wife, you really did, but he always seemed to say these things that truly made no sense. In his despair, she had become a lame excuse he fell back on.

Either way, you went along with his nonsense. “Who says you can’t. Would your wife want you to live your life as a miserable wretch?” You sighed, pressing you lips into a thin line. “I apologize. That was rude.”

You swallowed your pride and temper and prayed to the gods for a little more patience. “Look, I am sorry that she died and I’m sorry that you were forced to marry me and I am sorry that you are so depressed and miserable, but that is not my fault.” You said. “And I would appreciate it if you would stop aiming you anger at me. So take the cake so I can leave.”

“Your apology is worthless to me.” He said quickly, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. He hesitated for a moment like he wanted to end the conversation there, but the venom continued to spill. “You don’t understand what it’s like. Everything I did for two years, I did in service of her memory. So don’t tell me how to live. I will not apologize for mourning her.”

“I am not asking you to apologize for mourning. I am simply saying that if she loved you as dearly as you love her, she would despise the hollow shell you have become.” You shoot back. You’re being cruel. Your mind whispered to you. You were pouring whiskey onto a festering wound, but you were angry and tired of this. The emperor made him marry you, deciding it was necessary for him to be married. That was not your problem, you had married because it was your duty, all you wanted as for him to meet you halfway.

You sighed and shook your head when he doesn’t so much as twitch. “Fine. Take the cake, don’t take the cake, I don’t care.” You said, setting the cake platter down on the ground between you.

“Maybe some animals will enjoy it. I will be returning to my estate. Have a good day, sir.” You said. You tried; you couldn’t say that you didn’t try.

You turned and left, walking down the cobblestone path out of his estate, grumbling under your breath. You could try all you liked, but unless he tried too, this was going nowhere.

Two years and he hadn’t even asked to conjoin your estates or for you to move in. You didn’t ask either, even if he said yes, it would be a stiflingly stiff house. Unless he made an attempt at anything beyond being depressed, this marriage was headed for divorce. You couldn’t inact it yourself and you wouldn’t dare even if you had the power. A divorce would tarnish your reputation much more than it would his, though you doubted he cared.

However, the moment your back turned and you walked down the path, regal and elegant even in your anger, he bent down and picked up the platter. He stared down at it with a furrowed brow. How long had it been since he received a personal gesture like this?

The cake wasn’t made very well. The layers of frosting were uneven and the writing was sloppy. It even leaned slightly. This was no bakery made cake, no self respecting baker would have sold such a creation and he doubted any of your personal cooks or servants would have dared to present such a thing to you.

Did that mean you baked it? You were a horrible baker, you were lucky you were not born of common blood and had more worth than being a village wife. He swallowed. It was a sweet gesture. He took it inside with him.

You decided to take the long way home to calm your temper, trekking on a dirt path that cut through the woods. You tried to push the duke from your mind as you walked. The woods were quiet, the only breaking noise being birds chirping from their nests and leaves crunching beneath your shoes.

As you walked home, you enjoyed the crisp air and tranquility as you pushed the conversation with him out of your mind. As you approached your estate, you heard more familiar sounds. The distant neighs of stable horses and servants washing clothes and maids gossiping and tittering in excitement over the nearing All Hallows’ Eve. You had no doubt they were all excited for the festival and costumes.

You returned their greetings as they saw you and walked to your room. You wanted nothing more than to change out of your stuffy clothes. Admittedly, you had dressed up for the duke, more out of necessity rather than personal preference, but either way, you wanted out of the suffocating corset beneath your clothes.

(You cursed the emperor for passing the new law for proper clothes. Corsets necessary for both men and women, ridiculous!)

You closed the door behind you, hands going to the buttons of your clothes. You had undone the first button when someone cleared their throat. You jumped and spun around.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway to your balcony, the duke stood awkwardly. You gaped for a moment.

“…Could you come with me?” He asked softly. He looked like an awkward teen and you felt like one.

“Mr. Ashdown? Did you follow me to my estate? Why are you here?” You asked as you opened your door again. You may be wedded, but it still felt inappropriate to be alone in your room with a man. His face twitched for a moment, he never cared when you referred by his last name before, but he didn’t seem to like it now.

“Come with you where? I don’t really have time for a wild goose chase today.” You said, feeling mildly perturbed. Did he climb up the terrace? How did he get in? The maids would have told you if they knew he was here.

“I… I am trying to apologize for my behaviour, but I also need to see if this is truly worth my efforts.” He said slowly, not meeting your gaze. You hesitated, after two years when you were near ready to give up, now he was ready to try?

“Oh, for the love of— fine.” You said, pinching the ridge of your nose. Out of all his odd behaviours you beared witness to, this one was the oddest. But you had to meet him halfway. “Let’s just make this quick, please.”

Without another word, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you over to your balcony. Did he truly climb up?! Did he expect you to do the same?!

The duke seemed to have the same train of thought as he stopped for a moment. He glanced back at you and you resisted the urge to not say something snide when he slowly ran his gaze over you. You almost wanted to throw yourself off the balcony for the judgement his gaze created.

Instead, he turned and dragged you through your estate. He led you out through the back doors out into the gardens. A part of you questioned how he knew your estate so well despite only coming over once. He seemed to know every turn and hall and room.

You dismissed your thoughts. He was an odd man by nature. He led you through the gardens, ignoring the surprised stares of your servants following you. He led you through the gardens and back into the woods.

For a long while, he dragged you through the woods in silence. His hurried pace made animals run to their burrows, familiar with the sounds of a man on a hunt. Hunting for what however, you hadn’t a clue.

After a while, he finally spoke. “Do you want me to be happy? Do you truly want me to be happy?” He asked, not looking back at you.

You clicked your tongue in irritation. Did he truly doubt that after all the attempts you had made to make his days a little better? “I would prefer it if you were. It would make your life easier and hopefully our interactions less vexing.” You sighed. “What is even going on? Where are we going?”

The duke opened his mouth to answer, but closed it before any sound escaped. He didn’t answer your question.

After walking a bit further, you spotted something between the trees. As you drew closer, the sight became clearer. It was fallen ruins, golden light filtering through the cracks and holes. He dragged you closer to it. This was what he was looking for.

“I’ve never been here before.” You murmured to yourself as you stare, brows furrowed. You turn your gaze back to him. “Where are we. Why are we here?”

Again, your questions were left unanswered and ignored. He dragged you up to the crumbling steps into the ruins and dragged you inside. You marvelled over the ruins as he dragged you in.

Decaying archways and moss clinging to cobblestone. Faded paint and sun filtering in from above through the cracks and crevices in the ceiling. It was hauntingly beautiful. You gaped as you glanced around.

“This place is magnificent.” You whisper softly.

He only hummed in response, distracted as he looked around. His head jerked over to an open doorway and dragged you over.

You quickly stumbled after him, tripping on the cracks on the floor and fallen stone. You gasped softly as he pulled you into the room.

This room is just as beautiful as the first. Torn tapestries, cracked marble, what was left of a golden throne. The gold was tarnished and the dents where jewels had once been embedded were left empty.

You were beginning to suspect that this was one of the old kingdoms, lost to time or to new lands to rule. You had never thought one may lay so close to you estate. How many times had you ventured the woods without finding this.

However, it still raised the question, why were you brought here and how did the duke know if its presence?

He finally released your arm and walked over to the alcove of a fallen statue. A old god of mythology. He barely glanced at the statue laying on the ground as he stepped over it.

He leaned down and dug around in the growing lush of nature sinking its roots into the stone. He grabbed something you couldn’t see and pulled harshly on it.

Then he turned back to you, staring down  at what he held. It looked to be some kind of potato, roots still attached. He looked slightly nervous as he swallowed and held it out to you.

You raised a brow, turning your attention away from the cracked face of a god. “Is this why you brought me out here? To give me a potato?” You asked. You felt silly and incredulous at the offer, but you took it anyway. He only stared at you.

“Are you feeling alright?” You finally asked after a period of silence. Your brow raised further as concern crossed over your face. “You’re not acting quite well. Please don’t tell me you’ve gone around the bend. This marriage is on the rocks already, I don’t wish to send you to an asylum.”

The duke seemed to take your concern in stride. He offered a brief, quiet laugh to brush aside your concern. He took a deep breath.

“I am the duke of this land. And yet, I have never had anyone love me for who I am and not what this title gives me. Not my parents, not my half siblings, not the court, not even the emperor. But you have shown a kindness towards me that I am not accustomed to.” He said. “You have shown me kindness that only one other has shown me. I know it’s odd, I know it’s silly, but I need to know my efforts won’t go to waste. Do you want me to be happy?”

You nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going or how to take his behaviour.

“Then eat it.” He said simply, his posture relaxing. “You have the gift of making me remember what it felt like to be loved when my wife was still alive. She was the only one who loved me for me.”

“When we were kids, we found this and to mark our love, we both ate a potato. I do warn you, it is a rancid thing to taste.” He said. He stared intently at you. “If you can give me a personal gesture and eat a potato for me, I can try.”

“So this is a sort of initiation for becoming truly wedded in your eyes?” You said uncertainly. You really didn’t want to eat the potato, but you would if he tried. Anything to save this failing marriage.

“If you want to view it like that.” He said simply. His gaze was blank and unblinking, a bit like an owl late at night.

“O-okay…” you said slowly. You hesitated for a moment, but you finally raised the potato up to your lips. The potato was hard and and bitter on your tongue as you bit into it.

He saw the very moment the taste hit your tongue and for a moment, he saw his wife. He saw Lily, hair as white as snow and growing long to her ankles. He saw her violet eyes squeeze shut and her face screwed up. He remembered laughing at her expression before he too faced the harsh taste.

He blinked and Lily was gone and you stood in her stead. Your face was pinched and you chewed slowly before swallowing the potato down. You tried to hide the shudder that wracked down your spine.

“Unique flavour.” You said, clearing your throat as the mushy insides coated the inside.

“Like I said, it’s rancid.” He said as he stepped closer. He took the potato and bit into it like it was a shiny, red apple. His eye twitched as he chewed and swallowed much quicker than you did. Then he threw the half eaten potato back into the alcove.

“Are you truly going to make good on your promise?” You asked, staring up at him. He hummed and nodded.

“You ate the potato. I don’t want us to be strangers anymore. I want to love you like I love my wife.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. What an odd man you had been wedded to.

“That was really all it took?” You sighed. “I would deeply enjoy being in a loving marriage, but don’t rush yourself. Our kingdoms weren’t built in a day and love does not bud overnight.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He replied, smiling slightly. It was barely a smile, just the corners of his lips twitching up, but it made you happy.

You nodded. “Alright. Let’s get along then, we may be wedded, but I would prefer there be no rumours of us having our way in the woods.”

His smile grew slightly and he nodded, leading you back out of the ruins, much more relaxed than when he had rushed you inside. You looked back at the ruins.

“How did you even know this laid here? I’ve never come across such a treasure in all my years. Beautiful ruins lost to nature…” you murmured, trying not to trip over your feet as you walked backward, trying to take in every last detail of the dirty stone.

“As I already said, my wife and I found it when we were young. We loved coming out here to get away and just be together.” He said. He glanced back at the ruins, a true smile on his lips. A sweet, fond smile. “If our parents had permitted so, we would have been wedded here.”

“I can understand why you both loved it, it’s a beautiful sight.” You said softly, observing his soft expression. “If… If I may be so bold, may I ask about your wife? I wish to know more.”

“You may be so bold. She… Her name was Lily. She was the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” He said wistfully, walking on a set path even as his gaze grew distant. You quickly followed after him. “We got married young, when we were kids really. Everyone thought we were crazy, but our love for each other never wavered. She was there for me when no one else was, and she was my best friend.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman.” You commented, turning your gaze to the canopy of leaves above, packed in together by the close trees. Sunlight dappled through the small spot where leaves did not overlap and birds tweeted, happily singing their songs.

The duke followed your gaze up to the trees. “She loved the birds. All kinds. Common sparrows, crows, peacocks, chickens.” He let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “She fed them whenever she could and after a while, she couldn’t walk outside without them flocking to her.”

“I am truly sorry she was taken so early in life. It is a senseless tragedy.” You said quietly, unsure if your words would bring back his coldness. He had claimed that he would give the marriage, the relationship, a try, but you couldn’t help to be cautious. “You should have been able to live a long life with her. I curse the gods for reaping her life, they did not need her as much as you did.”

The duke nodded in acceptance as he listened to your words. “I hated the gods for taking her. I still hate them.” He paused for a moment, eyes flickering over to you. You didn’t object his words. If he hated the gods, it was within his right, you were no nun or priest or disciple of the gods.

Once you don’t refute his words, he looks back to the trees, but his eyes darken despite the sunlight shining down. “Sometimes I wonder if they punished her for loving me, since everyone else was too greedy to see anything besides my name.”

You hummed, mulling over his words with a thoughtful expression. “I wouldn’t be surprised. The gods themselves are nothing more than greedy bastards who cannot stand anyone being loved more than they are.”

You shook your head with a sigh, trying to find the positive side of this situation if there was one to be found.

“Well, I suppose she’ll be waiting for you when your time comes, with a halo and great wings. She’ll be the most beautiful angel in the sky.” You finally say.

He nodded. “I suppose.” He said. “I wish to hold her one more time, but I believe your words earlier were true. Cruel, but also awakening. Lily wouldn’t want me to despair over her.”

“Thank you for showing that to me.” He smiled at you, that sweet, fond smile. “Sometimes life is cruel. But it’s people like you that make it so beautiful. In some way, you remind me of her.”

You smile and a soft giggle escaped you. “You flatter me with your kind words, I do not measure.” You say. “But either way, I hope our relationship can grow, I hope our love can bloom like a red rose.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as you come back to the edge of your gardens. He tilted his head. Then he leaned forward and pressed an equally soft kiss to your own cheek. This isn’t a passionate, lustful kiss. This is a gentle, tender kiss.

He smiled sweetly at you, his eyes focused solely on you. You had found him in his self made out of despair and dragged him out of it and into the bright sun.

“I look forward to it.”

[rudimentary-rutabaga]

I got what I asked for, so here are my Deltarune Yellow Ideas! Feel free to comment or send me askes on these guys/the storyline. I have way more ideas I didn’t list here.

This is… very long, so be warned. Designs coming soon.

DALV

-Nothing changes too much, still socially awkward

-Friends with the Ketsukanes, but nowhere near Starlo’s level.

-The snowdin attack never happened. He was actually friends with the Integrity human, and they would help him look after baby Kanako if Starlo was away.

-That is, until they disappeared out of the blue. Now he has anxiety over that instead.

-Writes books for a living. He also babysat Kanako and Clover when they were younger.

-Used to help out on Starlo’s farm.

-One of Kanako’s friends.

MARTLET

-Design is mostly the same.

-No royal guard to join, so she went to college instead. Now that she’s graduated, she’s currently unemployed and living with her mom.

-Still helps Chujin out with building/carpentry, but doesn’t feel good enough to start a business.

-One of Clover’s friends, like a sister to them.

-Met Asriel at college. They didn’t get along.

STARLO

-A farmer. Takes more pride in farming than his UTY counterpart.

-Still loves cowboys/western media, but he’ll only dress up as them in the safety of his own backyard.

-Still has a crush on Ceroba but knows he’ll most likely never be with her, so he just tries to be the best for Kanako he can be.

-Has his own house now! His ‘posse’ are just his high school friends. They’ll talk about western stuff a lot with him but won’t go much farther than that.

-One of Clover’s friends. Pretty much their dad, but hasn’t been able to officially adopt them.

CEROBA

-Still dresses up the same as in UTY

-Her and Chujin are practically the founders of the town (This is not hometown, by the way.)

-The whole family would be considered intimidating if everyone didn’t know them already.

-Clover lives with her + her family , but they don’t think they consider them family.

-Shows a bit of favoritism towards Kanako, but she’s working on it.

-Stay at home mom.

CHUJIN

-Still an engineer, but when not at work he uses most of his skills for carpentry and woodworking.

-No Snowdin attack, so he isn’t as distrustful of humans. He's just glad Kanako seems happy to have Clover.

-Programmed a video game for Kanako called ‘Belowstory’

KANAKO

-Doesn’t like to dress how she does in UTY. She dressed like that when she was younger, but now prefers to look more like her peers.

-Loved western stuff when she was younger, but sometime after Clover arrived she decided cowboys were lame and she liked superheroes (another predominantly human thing) more.

-Recently decided cowboys actually are better.

-Amazing at art and piano, gets good grades and everybody loves her! Nevermind the fact that she feels stressed and pressured.

-Minor envy issues with Clover. Feels like they don’t have to be impressive to be liked.

-Considers Clover a sibling.

CLOVER

-Considers Kanako a cousin.

-Major jealousy issues with Kanako. Feels like they’ll never be as good and loved as her. They aren’t good with sharing.

-‘Works’ at Starlo’s farm (they volunteer on afternoons and he pays them allowance)

-Shares a room with Kanako.

-The orphanage they escaped from didn’t bother to educate the kids there, so Ceroba homeschools them until they can catch up with others their age.

-Got made co-deputy with Kanako. Felt like their western thing was the only thing separating them from being nothing but ‘Kanako’s friend.’

AXIS

-Yes, he exists.

-Instead of being a royal guard robot, he was made to be Kanako’s companion before Clover came along.

-Currently confined to the basement because of his limited power source.

-Knew Integrity before their sudden disappearance.

[beevean]

This piece is pretty long (it's actually two), but I'm finally in the swing of things. This is the pure, distilled Isaactor in my view. A complete mess :'D

~

“But I was asked to give him my body and soul, and so I did. It was the least I could do, after all he did for me.”

The vast castle narrowed down to the four walls of the alchemy laboratory, buried deep underground.

Lord Dracula’s command, white-hot with his fury, was absolute: the Devil Forgemasters were to work until the flesh of their hands had been consumed. It was their duty – no, the very reason they were born – to create and create, to channel Lord Dracula’s essence through their bodies, transmogrified into vessels to bring Hell on earth; the words of the spell fused together in a senseless cacophony of noises, wrenched from their throats by the specter of the Lord.

Hector no longer had the strength to think. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up with a jolt on his table, surrounded by chipped gems and hasty sketches, with a head that screamed death and tingling hands.

(Were his fingernails always purple?)

Had it been a few minutes? Hours? Days? Who could tell, when not even the moonlight kept them company. He could only get up, tidy up his place, and repeat the litany in an increasingly strained voice.

It was for a good cause.

(He had forgotten what it was.)

His creations had become incredible, majestic. Intimidating skeleton knights, mountain beasts, slender golden gargoyles, dragons small enough to snake around his arm and massive enough to block out the sun when flying. He would have swelled with pride, welcomed the awe bubbling in his chest at the sight of his ever-growing powers, were it not that they all came to the world with the same fate: to kill.

It was the Lord’s will.

(The same will as a rabid wolf driven to bite everything in its sight.)

His Devils, growing in sapience and soft in morals, gleefully brought him back the heads of the men, women and children that they had punished. They wanted nothing more than to make their master happy, and they did in the only way they had learned. Hector threw the gifts away, but they always came back to him, dangling in his dreams with glassy eyes and slack jaws and charred flesh, and it didn’t matter that his breath got cut in his chest and tears pushed to fall from his eyes and his tongue was heavy with blood welling in his mouth.

It didn’t matter, because he had sworn to serve his Lord, with his learnings and with his blood and with all the strength in his body and mind, because he knew what he was doing, he was a rational man who only needed help with his grief, and Hector would have done anything to help him even if he didn’t understand.

(He ignored the rocks settling in his stomach.)

It didn’t matter, because he had to be strong, and keep Isaac upright when he wailed and tore up his hair and sobbed with his head held in his hands and babbling nonsense.

Whenever Hector dragged himself to his quarters to sink into the comfort of his nightmares, Isaac seldom followed him. Just one more, he’d say, and then Hector would descend back the next day to still find his friend awake, attempting to no avail to hide his puffy eyes and the rubble at his feet.

Hector’s craftsmanship improved day by day, improving in number and complexity. Isaac’s masterpiece was still Abel. That was what the Lord would say, with a small smile reserved for Hector. It made all the hardships worth it. It made Isaac slink back to his corner of the laboratory.

The more Isaac worked himself to exhaustion, the more mistakes he made. His Devils were too small, too brittle, lame, a liability in battle. He would rip the gems out of their bodies with a scream and attempt again.

Any suggestion to rest was met with a venomous stare.

« You made it. So I can make it as well. I’m not worse than you! I’m not! »

Hector had to calm Isaac down more times than he could count, when he was overwhelmed by the fear that he couldn’t be useful to his Lord and therefore he had no reason to live. His face became more and more sickly pale and drawn, his eyes bloodshot: he really started resembling an undead creature.

« You’re not useless, » Hector would attempt to comfort him. « No one is going to throw you away. You’re still a General, aren’t you? And my friend, regardless of what you can or cannot do. »

His words never breached him. Isaac was lost in a mire that Hector could only see the surface of.

And that was why, when Isaac would push him to the wall hard enough that his head slammed and would kiss him with teeth and nails and would look at him with eyes as cold as the wind in the castle, Hector let him. If a warm, welcoming body was what he needed to push his head out of the surface, Hector would give it to him. It was the least he could do, for his only friend.

(He would do the same for him. Wouldn’t he?)

Hector pulled back from kissing Isaac’s nape, reeling at the sight that greeted him.

« What is this? »

« Pretty, isn’t it? » asked Isaac with thinly veiled sarcasm, under him.

Hector bit his lip. “Pretty” was not quite the right word: he would have said stunning. A large, intricate tattoo covered the entirety of Isaac’s upper back, from one shoulder blade to the other. Hector knew that symbol all that well: the sun expanding its rays in all directions, the moon and stars inside it, the devil and angel wings spread out, the dragons entangled together in an eternal dance.

It was the very same insignia that the Devil Forgemasters displayed proudly on their uniform. Their rankings, their accomplishments, their purpose in life: all were embroidered on their armor.

And now, it seemed, right under Isaac’s own skin.

Something wasn’t right.

Hesitantly, Hector lightly touched the tattoo with his fingers. The skin throbbed under his fingertips, and Isaac hissed in pain, making him recoil as if he’d been burned.

His friend could tolerate pain. Sought it, even. He had made clear numerous times that he would not let Hector go until he was sore all over. In normal circumstances, Hector would not be deterred, and would have welcomed the distraction regardless of the sluggishness in his own limbs. Isaac’s screams served well at keeping his thoughts at bay.

However, a nagging feeling, pulling in a corner of his mind, held him back.

All of his intentions vanished in a puff of smoke, Hector climbed off of Isaac – which earned him a grumble – to lay down to his side.

« What is the hold up? » the man asked with narrowed eyes, propping himself on an elbow, and Hector wished he had a good answer, one that didn’t make him sound like an unsupportive companion.

« Is that why you didn’t torment me for days? »

« Torment you, » he echoed with a snort. « As if I bother you that much. But yes, I had to wait for it to heal. It hurt… a lot. »

Of course, Isaac would reject ordinary ink – Hector rubbed away the unpleasant memory of the pulsating skin. He was more surprised that he had been able to hide himself from him. Had he been careless? Hector saw himself forced to ask the same question he had been repeatedly asking his friend:

« Why did you do this? »

At that, Isaac’s face brightened up – he must have been waiting for it. « I needed to show to Lord Dracula how committed I am to His cause! How I would do… » He shuddered. « Anything for Him. Even withstanding the most torturous of agonies. He injected His own blessed blood inside my flesh, and now I belong to Him, body and soul. He said as such, Hector! He did! »

That was the part where Hector was supposed to get out and return to his work.

Unnecessary. It was all unnecessary. As it was staying up all day to create Devils bound to be destroyed, as it was cutting off parts of the people they slaughtered, as it was slaughtering them in the first place.

It wasn’t Hector’s place to understand, that much he knew, but he still itched to tear down the wall that had grown between him and the others.

Lord Dracula trusted both of them, even if he was not quite as kind to Isaac. What was the point of mutilating himself for his sake? Weren’t his actions enough?

« I see, » was the only comment he was capable of. He hardly cared that Isaac deflated at his lack of enthusiasm. « You could have told me, you know. »

« Why did you need to know? » Isaac suddenly flashed his eyebrows, before a sly smirk replaced his sullen expression. « Do you want total control of my body? »

« I would treat it better than you do. »

« Ohh, and what would you do? » he purred, swinging a leg over Hector, pushing him closer to his eager body.

He’d show him.

In a swift move, Hector was once again on top of Isaac, this time facing each other; Isaac let out a silent gasp at having his tender back against the bed. Hector couldn’t help it: whenever Isaac pinned him down, he let the victor do with his body as he pleased, but when he was the one holding his friend by the throat, squeezing with just enough strength to feel the blood pumping under his palms, an urge squirmed in his belly, the urge to hurt him, because Isaac was at his most beautiful when he looked up to him with half-lidded, shiny eyes, dark with a sentiment that could only be shared when teeth and nails were drawn out.

A sentiment that was only reserved for Hector. Or, at least, it should be.

Did Isaac look up to Lord Dracula in the same way? Begging to be torn apart? And what did that make Hector, in his eyes?

« Why are you like this? » he asked, knowing he would never get an answer.

He passed his thumb over Isaac’s neck, in search of something. There they were, right on his jugular: the small scars left by Lord Dracula’s fangs, still not fully healed after a few days. Hector would have had a matching mark on his throat, had he not rushed to drink a strong healing potion as soon as the Lord had let him go. The feeling of the vampire’s mouth all over and inside Hector’s neck had been uniquely unpleasant, and he did not wish to see a reminder of the experience in the mirror. Isaac was not of the same mind, it appeared. He never was.

Meanwhile, his friend wheezed a laugh. He didn’t even ask what Hector meant exactly. « Too bad, take it or leave it. » He stroked Hector's back, tickling it with long nails that would soon draw blood. « You don’t want to leave me, do you, Hector? »

The languid tone was not enough to fool him.

Whether Hector liked it or not, regardless of the wall keeping them at arm’s length, Isaac was part of him as much as Hector was part of the only man he could call his companion.

« As if I could. » He nuzzled on the crook of Isaac’s neck, right where it was the warmest. « You’re going to drive me crazy, one day. »

And then he threw all reason to the wind, and bit hard on Isaac’s shoulder, until he finally, finally shouted. Human teeth couldn’t tear skin as easily as a vampire’s, but the purple bruise he left right under Lord Dracula’s mark looked lovely on his friend’s pale skin.