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rcvcgers · 2 months ago

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Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter ten: fallout

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

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oh yeah, i made a spotify playlist for this <3

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: your relationship with caleb is on the rocks. he talks you out of accepting a job. something bad happens.

word count: 10.5k words

warnings: slightly proofread! i wrote this in one sitting ... don't judge too hard

author's note: hi! thank you so much for being patient with me! part 10 is a little ... yeah. i hope you enjoy it regardless !!

content warning: angst, mentions of death, self blaming, loathing, syringe/drugging

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @young-adult-summer

want to be added to the taglist? click here!

Things weren’t the same after the wedding.

The next morning, the two of you acted as if nothing had happened when your parents came back from their getaway. Their cheery smiles were met by shiny yet fake grins, you and Caleb being affectionate and in love. They made endless comments about how the two of you looked so good together, that your mother was always rooting for you and Caleb to get together as teens and cried about it when he died (he explained that his death was fake for DAA reasons, your parents didn’t press further into the matter).

They offered for the two of you to stay another night, to spend some time in Linkon together and visit the places you loved as a kid. Caleb knew you hated the idea by the way your voice went up an octave. He effortlessly made an excuse that you agreed to come with him to a Farspace Event, that it was unavoidable as a Colonel and his trusty translator.

So, they waved you away and the two of you kept up the facade that you are a couple in love, who cannot keep their hands off of each other, and watched as the image of your parents disappeared from the train’s window.

As soon as they were gone, you dropped the facade and put your headphones on, drowning out the outside world while you nursed a headache from the emotional stress. Caleb kept your hand in his, though, and watched as your face showed cracks for the first time that day.

It wouldn’t be the only time it happened.

To you, life had lost all of its color. Sure, you loved Caleb and wanted to continue your relationship with him. He has proven to you that he will choose you, make the time and effort to pursue you despite the people in your lives trying so hard to keep you apart.

There is still one raincloud that hangs over your head, though. It’s big and is a deep gray color, holding in all of the unanswered questions, anger, and sadness that has rooted itself inside of you. It hovers over the blooming apple tree in your heart. No fruit has come from the tree yet, its life still too young to support anymore weight than it can.

The cloud taunts the tree. It absorbs all of the sunlight that it tries to get, forever rejected the nourishment the tree needs to thrive. It also baits the tree into thinking that it will receive water, a necessity for it to survive. It holds all of the water inside itself, refusing to let go.

The tree begins to wither. It’s once healthy branches begin to turn dry, ready to snap under the pressure or from a forceful gust of wind.

Life at home was fine. You and Caleb remained together, usually opting to spend the night in his apartment instead of yours. You went about your day as usual, translating important documents and even occasionally being called upon to translate live for a high ranking official’s mission. The routine became monotonous, though.

You wake up beside Caleb and share a peck on the lips before getting ready for the day. He made breakfast while you made the bed and cleaned up any messes either of you made the previous night. You stood next to each other while you brushed your teeth. Caleb changed into his Colonel’s uniform while you slipped on one of your office outfits, your own uniform as Caleb likes to call it. You help him with his tie while he pushes your hair out of your face and flattens out the wrinkles of your shirt.

It’d be quiet while the two of you got ready. Usually, you’d be asking Caleb about his plans for the day and you’d share yours. The two of you would share hundreds of happy kisses and pecks on the cheek, always trying to sneak another one in before you have to leave. Now, though, the rooms are filled with a deafening silence, the echoes of your last giggles and shared whispers vanishing from existence.

Once at work, you’d part ways with a small wave, going through the front doors while he parked the car and went through his own entrance. When the two of you left for the day, he would pick you up right outside the building’s doors and drove to whoever’s apartment was called upon that day.

On the weekends, days that you had off, you would run out for groceries while he handed any Colonel business that needed his attention. Your phone dinged throughout the day, texts from Caleb asking you where you are and what you’re doing littering your phone screen. You always answered truthfully but your messages were dry, lacking any excited exclamation marks or funny emojis that would make the two of you giggle later that night.

While you folded laundry, your mind would drift out into space, the insecure thoughts from before floating into your consciousness, your fingers tightly gripping Caleb’s weathered DAA shirt.

The cloud that hangs above your head grows.

Some days, Caleb would stop by the translators sector just to see the smile on your face, but it was nowhere to be seen, your face stoic while you typed away on your computer. When your gazes met, your smile only lasted for a couple of seconds before it vanished, your boss stacking a tall pile of papers onto your desk.

You began to bring work home. Once your boss caught wind of your relationship with Caleb, they thought it would be poetic justice (or just plain bullying) to give you some more work for dating far above your rank and importance. Funnily enough, you began to miss Darryl and the shit he used to give you about being late. Caleb’s face always fell when you got into his car. His eyes would immediately latch onto the papers in your hands, watching as you struggled to piece together the dialect of a language you aren’t used to.

Caleb knew that those nights would end with you working until the moon is about to leave the night sky. He stayed up with you, though, and fell asleep with his chin on your shoulder while you sat on his lap. The low light of the lamp was enough to illuminate the page. You scribbled the deciphered language onto a blank page and yawned throughout the night, mentally exhausted beyond belief.

You weren’t too mad about the workload. It helped you avoid having tough conversations with Caleb. Instead, you helped him learn new words in languages he can barely understand, speaking to him in full sentences while he tried his best to ask you where the library is. It kept things lighthearted despite the two of you knowing that the current solution is a bandaid over a bullet hole.

“Do you want me to take the leftovers?” Your co-worker, Alivia, asks one day.

You stare at the box in front of you. Inside sits countless of papers and documents that are blacked out with only a few words here and there to decipher. A task like this would take you a week to complete and that’s is you pulled all nighters and lost a few hours of sleep.

A break, though? It sounds nice.

“That would be amazing, actually,” you breathe out, already feeling the weight and stress from Oliver’s last minute assignment slip off of your shoulders.

“Of course! You deserve a break too. It’s unfair how you always get the short end of the stick,” Alivia swipes the box off of your desk, placing it on her own. She glances at the clock on her desk and looks back to you. “Go home. I’ll cover you if he says anything. Just go and get some rest this weekend, okay?”

You nod, a genuine smile spreading across your face, and gather your belongings. There’s only a few more hours left of the work day but a break would be everything and more. Without looking back, you rush out of the doors and into the cool air.

The sky is dark, a rainstorm slowly coming in. The weather has been so unpredictable lately. Some days it is bright and sunny with high temperatures and the next it is thundering and raining, threatening to down the floating city. The wind chills your skin. You hug your jacket closer to your body, ready to find a taxi when your phone rings. You don’t even need to look at the caller I.D. to know who it is.

“Caleb,” you answer, teeth clattering from the cold wind, “what’s up?”

“Where are you going?” his voice is filled with concern with a hint of possessiveness. It make you shiver from just how quick he learns about your work life.

“Alivia told me to go home. I thought I’d go to your place and take a nap there. Your bed is better after all,” you add a chuckle to the end of your sentence. You know that it’ll disarm Caleb’s sudden protectiveness. You know him just as well as he knows you. “I can always go to my—”

“No! It’s okay. I could use a nap too,” Caleb chuckles over the phone but his laugh immediately dies when the door to his office opens. “What is it?” his voice is now muffled and you can hear him place the phone against the desk.

You sigh and walk away from the doors and towards the street. The phone is trapped between your ear and shoulder while you attempt to hail a taxi. Caleb’s Colonel voice comes out and you suddenly miss his happy tone. A gust of wind brushes past you, chilling you even more. Maybe this is Mother Nature’s way of telling you that you’re an ice cold bitch.

“I’ll have to see you later. I’m sorry, pretty bird,” Caleb sighs into the phone.

“That’s okay. Why don’t you bring home dinner? Let’s have a night in where we don’t do anything,” you calmly suggest, finally getting a taxi’s attention. The white car pulls up to the curb and you get inside, smiling at the driver, telling him the address.

“Are you sure? I can always cook something. Your favorite!” you hear him move things around on his desk.

“It’s okay. I’m craving that place you showed me anyways,” you shrug.

The world begins to move around you. The taxi slowly moves with traffic but you don’t care. You just need some time for yourself, to be alone and reset your body so you can get out of this funk and move on from the night of your friend’s wedding. It isn’t fair to you or Caleb to have something as silly as miscommunication hold you back from being happy together.

Well, you certainly thought it to be something you could easily get over. You never have been the best at guessing things like this.

When you enter Caleb’s apartment, your phone has been blown up with Caleb checking in on you, seeing if there was anything he can do to help you feel better or if he needed to leave work early. You texted back reassurances, the guilt of your resentment towards her and his relationship eating away at your conscience.

You laid in his bed, wearing one of his many oversized and comfortable shirts, and scrolled through your phone throughout the hours. It felt good to mindlessly scroll through stupid videos and read through peoples arguments over the stupidest things. Your mind was distracted and you didn’t think about the things that have been weighing you down.

You laugh at a video of penguins falling over. You cried at the video of a dog sitting at its owner’s grave. You save a recipe that you think Caleb would be great at making. You roll your eyes at some dude bro who thinks that a woman’s reproductive system looks like a satanic goat.

Hours pass you by and the sun sets in the distance, leaving the room in complete darkness except for the lamp that you turned on not too long ago. Its light is warm, very orange. It carries across the room, the blue light from your phone cutting through the orange with ease, the two colors splitting your face evenly. You roll to your other side in bed, plugging your phone in before it can die.

Engrossed in your own world, you don’t even notice Caleb walking inside the bedroom, already shrugging off his jacket, hanging it in the closet. He smiles at you. The sound of your quiet laughs and giggles make his heart feel full again. It brings a warmth to his chest, one he hasn’t felt in awhile, and begins to shed the skin of his Colonel persona.

“Whatcha laughin’ at, pretty bird?” Caleb asks, a smile on his face.

You gasp and sit up in bed, covering yourself with the dark gray and blue sheets of his bed. Once your eyes land on him, you relax and let out the tension that filled your lungs. Caleb laughs and slips on comfortable clothes, crossing the room and slipping underneath the covers beside you. In one fluid motion, Caleb scoops you up and onto his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Ohhh, I see. You’re laughing at videos of baby animals. Very cute, very cute,” Caleb muses with a smile, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. He gently presses kisses to your neck and you let out a quiet sigh, closing your eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“I couldn’t,” you admit. You place your hands on top of Caleb’s, feeling all of your worries begin to slip away and out of your mind. “I think I need my boyfriend to help me.”

“Do you?” his tone is teasing yet is so smug at the same time. “Well, I’m here now aaaand I brought dinner.”

“Did you?” you ask with a smile. Caleb nods. You push him away from you and slip out of bed, the covers hindering your movement. Caleb laughs and watches as you scramble outside of the room and towards the kitchen where two white bags sit.

You open them up to reveal an immaculate sight: two big bowls of ramen accompanied by all of the side dishes imaginable. Caleb walks from behind and reattaches himself to your body. He leans into you, catching a glimpse of your smile.

For once, it’s genuine. It is the first smile, one that is real, that he has seen from you never since the wedding. A piece of him aches. He knows that you’ve been stuck on that day, that you haven’t been able to fully process or say what it is that you need and want to say. He’ll be there when you’re ready, though. He will never leave you to go through that alone, especially because some of your hidden anger is directed at him. Rightfully so, of course.

Neither of you bring it up. You eat dinner together and talk about Caleb’s day, even going as far as to see if you could translate a few documents for him one of these days.

It felt…nice. The temporarily relief from avoiding the elephant in the room. The two of you pretend it isn’t there, basking in the awkwardness of uncertainty and things left unsaid. Caleb smiles at you, you smile at him, and the two of you ignore the heavy raincloud that floats over your head. The counter you sit at looks more and more like an executioners block with the cloud ready to chop your heads off.

You watch as Caleb cleans up the dinner mess. He brushes all of the crumbs off of the counter and into the trash can, casually throwing away the plastic bags and bowls that came with the meal. You sit at the counter and watch, chin propped up on your hand as he moves around the kitchen with a relaxed grin on his face.

Guilt washes over you. His smile is so genuine, so pure and good. He’s smiling because of you and you’re sitting here pretending like you don’t want to yell and scream at him for not telling you anything. You want to grab his head and scream at him for making you feel so insignificant in the past and cry in his arms because there truly is no way for you to hate him.

All you see is man who is trying his best to play the game called life. Maybe you shouldn’t hold so much anger towards him and the people in your life. Maybe you should forgive but never forget.

“Why are you starin’ at me like that?” Caleb disappears from your vision.

You blink at nothing and feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you off of the stool and into his arms. You gasp and feel your legs dangle off of the ground, Caleb’s forearms wrapped around your stomach, holding you up. He leans backwards and pulls you back with him. He walks around, chuckling to himself, as you hang there, unable to do a damn thing to stop him. You cross your arms over your chest, already having accepted your fate, and watch as he carries you back to his bedroom.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Caleb kisses the back of your neck. He doesn’t give you time to answer, either, before jumping onto the bed, smushing you beneath him.

With a face full of mattress and Caleb’s full body weight keeping you trapped below him, you accept the bittersweet taste of your death: suffocation by smothering. You had a good run! You did a lot of things, which was fun, even got to date the man of your dreams for a bit there even though it has been angsty as hell so far. You wouldn’t change a thing about it!

Okay, maybe you would change a few things, but who’s really counting, anyways?

Caleb rolls onto his back, bringing you around with him. You dramatically gasp for air, body moving up down down as Caleb laughs. You place your hands on top of his and stare at the ceiling, not making an effort to move your hair out of his face.

“I’m tired,” you say. Caleb nods in agreement. “I think I’m going to sleep right here…”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. The mattress I’m on may be a bit lumpy—”

“Lumpy?!”

“—and it may smell like sweat and jet fuel—”

“Is this pick on Caleb day?”

“—but it’s comfortable enough for the night.”

“Oh, well, that’s good then,” Caleb squeezes his arms around you, literally taking the breath out of you, “because I just love it when I have my girlfriend’s hair in my face throughout the night. Truly splendid!”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh, sucking in a deep breath when he releases you. You slip off of him and take your usual side in the bed, looking out the floor to ceiling windows. A small yawn leaves your mouth. Caleb adjusts himself behind you and pulls you close to him.

A silence finally falls between the two of you. Is it time? Are you ready to confront him? To ask him all of the questions that have died on your tongue before you got the chance to say them?

The dark rainclouds pass the windows, Caleb’s apartment building splitting the forces of nature with ease. You fixate on a particularly dark spot. It slowly passes by, taking its time to look back at you. If you didn’t know any better you’d think that a bolt of lightning would be shot at you as a punishment for all of the animosity that clings to your heart.

Caleb’s hand is warm against your skin. It stays at your stomach, gently caressing your skin, before it moves up between your breasts. He flattens his palm against your chest. He feels each and every one of your heartbeats. He feels as it quickens from his touch, giving away any kind of nonchalance you wanted to wear. His forearm remains stuck between your breasts. If he were to move his hand further up, he could choke you with ease.

“The clouds look cool,” your attempt at starting a new conversation doesn’t go unnoticed. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat. Caleb nods. You can feel his purple eyes watch you instead of the clouds. “I think you’re the one looking at me now.”

“We haven’t had much time together lately,” Caleb is quick to respond, “we’re busy people.”

“Are we?” you whisper to yourself. Caleb heard it, though. There truly is nothing you can keep from him.

A long sigh leaves his lips. You feel his forehead press into the back of your neck, his breath against your back. You shudder and place your hand on top of his. The clouds outside grow darker. Your eyes gloss over, the urge to cry hitting you like a train. You remain still, though, forever silent in your moment of doubt.

“Can we…” Caleb’s voice cracks. Your heart aches. You close your eyes, holding back frustrated tears. “Let’s not, tonight, okay? We were having such a good time.”

“Agreed,” you breathe out.

“Great,” Caleb pulls you closer to him, draping the bed’s sheets over your connected bodies.

It had been the first good night in awhile. Why would you want to spoil such a blessing with your own stupid thoughts and destructive behavior?

“It’s late, babe, let’s sleep,” your words fill in the silence. Caleb nods, yawning right on cue.

You know sleep will come easy for him with you in his arms. You also know, though, that sleep will continually tease you throughout the night, never letting you fully grasp it.

Caleb always looks stressed when he sleeps. You always thought that sleep was the great reliever, a place where every person can find solace after a long day of stress. Unfortunately for Caleb, it seems like even in sleep he cannot find peace. You can’t help but feel bad for him. He already goes through so much as the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel and deals with the undiscovered parts of the Deepspace Tunnel. You just wish that one day he will be able to sleep peacefully.

Even in the darkness of his bedroom, safely secured in his muscular arms, you can’t help but feel like Caleb is holding something back from you. The lingering feeling beckons at you, drawing you in closer and closer with the possibilities that there is an invisible barrier separating the two of you. Staring at the underlying tension in his brow makes you question what is going on inside his mind.

If you could, you would break open his skull to get to where his thoughts are hidden. You would dig through the blood and rip apart his brain, finding the locked away thoughts and memories that have been left unsaid, finally solving the mystery that keeps you up at night. You’d take away all of the bad memories and leave only the good for him to relive.

Then again, erasing someone’s memories is a cruel thing to do.

You slowly sit up in bed, his dark gray sheets pooling at your hips. Caleb immediately stirs in his sleep, eyes flying open and fixating on you. The moonlight is gentle against your skin as you gaze outside the window, curtains drawn open since you wanted to watch the clouds pass you by before you slept. There is a slight patter against the window. Raindrops collide with the reinforced glass, its quiet lullaby suddenly making you feel like you’re trapped inside a cage.

“Are you okay?” Caleb’s voice captures your attention. He remains in bed, the tips of his fingers already moving against your skin in a soothing manner.

“Yeah,” you nod, forcing a small smile onto your face, “I just woke up. Need to stretch out my body.”

Under the veil of darkness, Caleb memorizes the way your face twitches, picking up on the way your eyes remain on him despite your attention being elsewhere. There’s something in your eyes, a question that has been smothered on your tongue, hidden behind your teeth, never to escape.

Does he want to know what you’re thinking? What it is you are questioning now?

“Do you want to go for a walk?” your question surprises him.

He tilts his head back. Caleb’s purple eyes burn into yours, leaving your question unanswered. Tension slowly seeps into the air. You peel your eyes away from his and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, pushing away and heading towards the bathroom. Thunder booms from outside the window. Caleb sighs and covers his face with his hands. A quiet groan leaves his lips as he forces himself out of bed.

Ever since the wedding, things have been weird between the two of you. You had begun to pull away from him and Caleb was losing his mind, unsure of what he needed to do or say to make things right. You told him that you were fine, that you held no ill will.

Uncertainty and his fear of the unknown burned the back of his brain and it made him careless in his missions to the Deepspace Tunnel. People were injured and lives were on the line, but his mind could only think of you and the sad look that overtook your face whenever he looked away.

It’s the same look you wear on your face now. The bathroom lights are low, just barely awake as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Movement from behind you catches your attention. You look at Caleb’s reflection, watching as he settles himself against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You suck in a breath.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Caleb’s voice has lost its rasp and the tiredness that hangs in his voice, “why are you wanting to go for a walk?”

“Can’t sleep,” you shrug nonchalantly and turn back towards the mirror, pushing your hair behind your ears and out of your face.

“What about work?”

“It’s the weekend so I’m off,” you avoid his gaze in the mirror, trying to wake up your body so it can keep up with your mind.

Caleb falls silent again. All he can bring himself to do is watch as you untangle the knots in your hair before drawing it back into a low bun, nothing special. When you turn to leave the bathroom, you turn into Caleb’s bare chest. You look up at him, noticing the shadowed bags under his eyes. You reach up and cup his cheek, the man immediately leaning into your touch.

“You should stay back and sleep,” your words are quiet.

He shakes his head. He reaches up and wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling his face away from your touch. His touch isn’t warm but cold, his metal fingers hidden beneath its disguise. He gently kisses the palm of your hand, a gentle sigh escaping his lips. Your cheeks heat up but you fight away the feeling, not wanting him to persuade you to go back to bed, to rot next to him while you watch the clouds pass the cage that keeps you inside.

“Let’s walk,” Caleb matches your volume, his purple eyes flickering to yours before he drops your hand, turning around to get changed. You follow him, quick on his tail, and glance outside.

The rain slowly begins to pick up outside. Thunder and lighting grows closer. You approach the window, placing your hand against the chilled glass. The world below is shielding by a cloud.

“Maybe we should stay inside,” you say, eyes focused on trying to see the ground. Caleb groans, frustrated. Your body tenses and your posture stiffens. “The weather picked up.”

“Pretty bird,” you turn around and see Caleb, already in sweats and a jacket, “you just said—”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

“So you don’t want want to go on a—”

“—no we can! It’s just that the weather—”

“So now you don’t want to?”

“No! Yes! Fuck, I don’t even know anymore! Let’s go for a walk,” you push past him and reach for one of your hoodies that sits in a bag you packed not too long ago. Caleb stops you, though, and instead hands you one of his hoodies with a long sleeve shirt. You turn around and watch as he helps slip your shirt over your head, replacing it with the tight long sleeve and hoodie. Once the hood is brought over your head, his purple eyes flicker to yours.

“It’s cold,” he sharply says. He takes your hand and guides you out of the bedroom, entering the dark living room and kitchen areas. You struggle to keep up with his long strides, feet fumbling over each other. Caleb grabs an umbrella that sits by the door and exits the apartment, pulling you with him.

The small journey to the outside world is awkward and tense. Caleb’s grip on your hand is tight, annoyance prominent inside the tension in his jaw, the way it’s clenched as he guides you through his apartment building. The yellow interior lights are easy on your eyes and are dim enough to keep the outside world dark, avoiding any kind of light pollution it may have. A single person works in the lobby, sitting at the desk while you and Caleb pass to leave.

“Hey!” they call out, “The weather is pretty rough—!”

“We know!” Caleb and you bark at the person in sync.

Caleb presses the button next to the lobby door and it slides open, a gust of wind hitting the two of you just as you exit. You slip the umbrella from his hand and open it, holding it out for him. He watches you with a close eye, the wind pushing around your hair, the tip of your nose already cold. He takes the umbrella and laces your fingers with his, weathering the storm together as you male your way to a dimly lit path nearby.

You wrap an arm around Caleb’s torso and stay close to him, face smushed into his chest. Raindrops fly with the wind, smacking against the material of the umbrella. It shields the two of you the best it can. Caleb picks up his pace and you’re practically jogging at his side.

“Caleb!” you shout over the sound of rain and wind. He doesn’t look down, simply walking through the rough weather as if it’s nothing.

Just a couple meters away sits a lit gazebo that sits in the middle of courtyard that’s right beside Caleb’s building. The rows of flowers try to fight against the wind, hanging on by the strength of the plant’s stem, a few petals flying away. Once you reach the gazebo, you push away from Caleb, turning your back to him. He drops the umbrella and it slides across the floor to where your feet are.

“Tell me,” Caleb begins, his voice raised to be over the howling wind, “what did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything,” you counter. The flower bushes that surround the gazebo hit and scrape against the wood. The petals threaten to fly off of the stems, getting lost in the wind. The dark rainclouds descend towards the ground, placing you and Caleb in the middle of its destructive force.

“Bullshit. There’s something going on inside that head of yours. You barely smile anymore and you always bring work home! There’s no time for us anymore!” Caleb walks closer to you. He looks at the back of your head, your hair dry and his hood damp. You don’t even turn to face him, which only annoys him some more. “We haven’t had sex—”

“So this is about sex!?” you snap, finally turning around to look at him. The wind screams from around you. “You’re worried about getting your dick wet again, right? Want me to get down on my knees and suck your dick? Will that make you feel better?!”

“No! Dammit! That’s not—” Caleb groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, “that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Then what is it, Caleb? Hm? Are you actually worried about me,” you poke his chest, knowingly poking the bear, “or are you just trying to cover your back so this doesn’t blow up on you at the end of the day?”

“What are you talking about?!” Caleb raises his voice to combat the thunder that sounds from around the gazebo. You roll your eyes and turn your attention to the world over his shoulder, looking at the environment get beaten up by the storm.

The dark raincloud that once hung above your head has touched land. It has finally decided that the apple tree, something that managed to grow in the rough terrain of your heart, deserves water. It deserves to have its thirst quenched, to let the cold water touch the dry, green leaves, to moisten the ground that surrounds it.

Truth and honesty are ideals that every relationship should have. It is the fertilizer within the soil that many apple trees like your own are buried in. You forgot that step, didn’t you?

“What did I do? Did Zayne say something to you at the wedding?” Caleb steps towards you but you take a step backwards, your ankle meeting the wood of the gazebo’s railing.

You scoff and look away, crossing your arms over your chest. Even the thought of looking into his eyes makes you feel nothing but dread and utter devastation. Caleb’s back stiffens. His purple eyes run up and down your body; you give him all of the telltale signs that he’s right and that you’re hiding something from him.

Caleb steps forward, trapping you. You look up at him with big and wide eyes. He’s the predator that’s just caught his prey, your pretty little face begging for mercy. He can go easy on you, sure, let you slip out of the net he’s caught you in. You can recover from your mistake by peppering kisses all over his face. He’ll forget all of the misgivings that have been through his way, he can forgive the fact that you believed something that Zayne said instead of asking him directly about it.

“What did he say?” Caleb’s voice teeters between desperation and being demanding. He lowers his head, his purple eyes training on yours with a darkness you haven’t seen before. Your body goes cold. Goosebumps scatter across your skin. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you breathe out, your breath coming out in the form of a plume. “What Zayne said doesn’t matter.”

“Clearly, it does,” Caleb places his hands on the wooden railing behind you. His nose grazes against yours. Your breaths mix into one. You close your eyes, unable to look at him. He presses in further, his body against yours, demanding and present. “Tell me.”

“He said that you’ve been texting her the whole time,” Caleb’s body tenses against yours while you speak, “he said that I will forever be second place in your heart. That you’ll always go to her her first rather than find me. That I don’t deserve you.”

Caleb slowly draws himself away from you. His eyes go dark, cold. The space between you feels like no man’s land, a place where neither of you want to meet in the middle. His tall frame dominates yours, towering over you with ease and with an unspoken authority over you. You are at his mercy.

“Go on,” he says in a low tone.

“Zayne said he loves me. He always has. That I haven’t been able to see it because I’ve been so preoccupied with you,” you continue.

Hurt flashes across his face when you say the word love, a word that he thought he had full control over when it comes to you. Jealousy spreads across his chest. You fall silent. Thunder booms from behind you. Neither of you react.

“What did you say back to him?” Caleb narrows his eyes at you.

“I said that him and I are alike,” you force the words to fall out of your mouth. Caleb’s eyebrow perks up. “We both love someone who will never be able to fully love us back.”

A bitter taste spreads across Caleb’s tongue. Looking down at you, he can see the defiance and hurt in your eyes. You are trying so hard to hold it together, to not cry and break from underneath the pressure. Your walls slowly reinforce themselves, the workers inside your mind resuming construction as you build them taller than you have before. They are now covered with a fresh layer of ice, closing out any warmth that you were once able to find within Caleb’s embrace.

“How about you, Caleb?” your voice is strong against the howls and cries of the wind. The screams from gusts of air don’t dissuade you. You remain strong in your path, knowing that at the end, only destruction will be left. “Is there anything that you wish to tell me?”

Caleb tears his gaze away from yours. The dark gray clouds cover the moon, taking up the entire night sky. The umbrella he brought out hits the wooden perimeter, clicking every couple of seconds, ticking away the time. He moves to the gazebo’s entrance, wanting to walk down the few steps and escape into the night, to get away from the conversation that slowly chips away at your relationship and individual sanities.

“What are you hiding from me?” you ask from behind. His broad shoulders stare at you, his back mocking. You can’t help but feel like you’re being laughed at, being teased for the way you feel. You tried to look past the revelation that Zayne gifted to you, brushing it off as nothing but a simple misdirection to throw you off your rhythm but now, standing here and watching Caleb begin to pull away from you, it feels like Zayne had been right the whole time.

You’re even second place when it comes to figuring out the truth, a third and unwanted person in a relationship that doesn’t even involve you.

“Talk to me, Caleb!” your voice is drowned out by thunder. Caleb turns around and his purple eyes immediately go to your fists that are balled at your sides. Your nails bury themselves into the palms of your hands. The pain is a nice distraction from the confusion in your mind. The thunder sounds like bombs are being dropped. “I told you the truth, why can’t you do the same?!”

“That’s not fair,” Caleb shakes his head, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Isn’t it?” you huff out a breath of air, crossing the distance to stand in front of him. “Do you know what it is like to sleep at your side, Caleb?” your voice cracks, “Do you know what it is like to have to hold you at night when you have another nightmare?”

“Pretty bird,” Caleb breathes your name out like it is a prayer.

“You cry in your sleep, Caleb. You cry and you hold onto me as if someone is going to take me away from you! You always avoid answering me question when I ask you what’s wrong and you never take me up on your offer to talk about it!” Tears begin to flow down your cheeks, bottom lip trembling. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head! I don’t know how I can help you or what I need to do to stop the nightmares! I hate seeing you in pain! I hate hearing you cry as soon as I leave the bed!”

Your hands fly to your face and your fingers begin to furiously wipe your tears away. Caleb reaches out to console you but you smack his hands away, placing a good amount of distance between the two of you.

“You cry out her name, Caleb!” you scream the words over the wind and thunder. Lightning flashes across the night sky, thunder immediately cracking after. The loud boom makes your ears ring. “You cry out her name when I’m right next to you! That’s how I know I’m second place! That’s how I know you are hiding something from me! And it fucking hurts to know that I will never be able to see that side of you. I feel so helpless when it comes to you, Caleb! You have all of the answers when it comes other than me and yet I barely know a thing about what happened!”

“I…” Caleb stammers, his voice falling silent. “I can—”

“Explain?” you cut him off. He blinks at you, his eyes now glossy. “Go ahead, Caleb. Explain. I’ll wait.”

“You know I can’t,” Caleb’s voice is low and is filled with such shame that it makes you want to scream and cry.

The raincloud has drowned the tree. Its soil, which was once too dry, is now diluted from the weight of history and purposefully hidden memories. The water level rises above the ground. The tree is now submerged beneath the water, unable to catch a break in the unpredictable weather cycle.

You suck in a breath, the back of your hand flying to your mouth, covering it. Hidden secrets and questions are now out in the open. They taunt Caleb, snickering at the pain that flashes across his chest. He stares at the back of your head, watching as your shoulders slump over, your body succumbing to the sadness that weighs you down.

“Maybe we…”you breathe out. Caleb’s eyes fill with tears. He clears the distance between you and takes your hands in his, shaking his head.

“Don’t…don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Caleb silences you. the man reaches up and wipes away the tears that fall from your eyes. He shakes his head but you nod, looking into his irritated eyes.

“I need a break,” you finish your thought.

“No, you don’t. We can work through this!”

“I’m tired Caleb,” you sigh.

“I am too but that’s okay!”

“I need to clear my head.”

“Tell me what to do then. Tell me what exactly you need me to do for you to come back to me. What is it? Please, pretty bird, I…I can’t be away from you!”

“Caleb,” you stop him. You hold his hands and squeeze them, unable to bring yourself to look at him. Not now, at least. “I need to be alone.”

It looks like Caleb was just shot ten times and was told to walk it off. He has been shot, has survived an explosion, has been stabbed before, sliced from another man’s knife while working. He was gone through watching his fellow soldiers fall, their planes being shot down during a dog fight. He has been experimented on, picked apart by Ever and Professor Lucius. He has had his memories ripped away from him, hidden in the depths of his mind, and is clinging to the remnants of what is left.

And yet you wanting to be alone, to be away from him, is the one thing that hurts the most.

A single tear rolls down his cheek, eyes strained and hands holding onto yours like you are about to step out of his life forever.

“I-I can’t,” Caleb stammers. His trembling voice pierces your heart.

Are you a bad person? It sure feels like you are. How could you put him through so much turmoil? And yet, how dare he hide his past life with her from you? He has had the chance to explain, to tell you why they will forever be connected until the end of their lives, but he hasn’t. Caleb has remained silent, only offering apologies and pleas for you to not leave him instead of an explanation.

Perhaps truth and honesty are not fertilizer. Maybe they are sharp axes ready to chop the tree down, to destroy all of the progress that you have made. It is a weapon that only threatens to smother the spark that once shined so brightly between you and Caleb.

“A break can be a good thing,” you try to reason with him, “gives us time to realize what is important in our lives. It can give us direction—”

“You are the most important thing in my life,” Caleb interrupts. He captures your cheeks between his hands, making you look up at him. “Don’t do this…please. At least stay the night, sleep on it, and we can talk about it in the morning, okay?”

Caleb’s purple eyes burn into yours. The wind pushes his hair out of his face, his lips slightly chapped from the wind. His cheeks are stained from tears just like yours and his hands tremble against your skin. You slowly inhale, the ice cold wind helping cool your body down from the heat of your anger. A lump forms in your throat.

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding, “I need to be alone, though. I’ll stay out here for just a bit longer.”

“I’ll stay with you—”

“Just go back inside, Caleb,” you pull away from him and cross your arms over your chest, stepping away. You wipe away your tears, knowing that what you are telling him is nothing but a white lie, “I’ll be up there soon.”

You need to do what you do best. Run away. Hide. Pretend as if your world isn’t falling apart from around you and give yourself the time to be a broken person before returning to the face of the earth.

And Caleb? Caleb is the fool who believes you.

He comes up from behind and hug you. It’s a small gesture that rips your heart apart. It makes you drive the knife into his chest even deeper, the hilt of the blade now pressed against his chest.

Then he’s gone. He walks through the ravenous rain on his own and even left the umbrella behind for you to use. Just as he steps through the apartment doors, you stop a cab and get inside, heading for your home.

Bzzrt. Bzzrt. Bzzrt.

Your phone shimmies across the top of your desk. You stare at it, eyes tired with purple eye bags sunken into your skull. The phone stops for a brief moment. A sigh exits your mouth, closing your eyes. The buzzing begins again.

You know exactly who the messages are from. You know exactly what it is that they say and you don’t even want to waste the time and energy to check. You’ll get the same messages later tonight as well then the whole process will repeat itself in the morning.

You would be lying to yourself, though, if you said you didn't miss the way he hugged and kissed you in the morning.

Caleb was not handling the break well, like, at all. He was a mess. He knew that he shouldn’t have left your side that night. A piece of him know that you were going to run away, just like you did in high school and at the wedding. You would call it a calculated retreat whereas Caleb would call it a surrender.

You avoided him at work, which he respected. It didn’t stop him, though, from driving behind the bus you took to and from work, watching as you moved in and out of your apartment so he knows that you’re safe. Caleb also kept tabs on you at work, watching you through the security cameras as you smiled and laughed with other people. People who aren’t him.

Caleb passed you in the hallways of the Farspace Fleet’s Administrative building. Your eyes always met, even if it were just for a second, and it gave Caleb the motivation he needed to stay string, to let you come to him. He knows that if he were to bombard you, it’d only make you want to run further away, back into Linkon where he lives.

Caleb used up all of your sticky notes during the time you stayed away from him. He left you notes on your desk, telling you that you looked beautiful that day and that he misses you. Some of them even asked if you were ready to talk to him, to have dinner and let him explain what he’s been trying to protect you from.

You always said no. A simple text that ended with his colorful sticky notes being crushed under your fist, tossed into the trash for the janitor to take out later in the night.

It’s okay, though, if it is space you need, he will give you space. If you need to take a moment for yourself and realize that he has all of the answers you need, the truth that you crave, then so be it. He will not be the one who stops you.

Well, that is what he told himself to feel better about the whole situation.

He knows that it is not fair to you to keep you in the dark about his and her’s past with Ever. The wounds, though, still feel fresh to him from his early childhood. He works with one of the men in charge of his experimentation, playing a game of cat and mouse to see who can outmaneuver the other. It’s a game that, quite frankly, he’s grown tired of but knows that the end will never come.

Caleb wants to tell you all about it. He wants to unload the weight of turning you away from the darkest parts of his past and mind. He also doesn’t want you to try and carry that burden with him, to try and alleviate some of the pain that heel feels everyday. He already lives with the constant remind of his metal arm, his bones forever trapped underneath the layers of wires and metal. He has sacrificed so much already to not let the professor and Ever win…it’s why he won’t let you near it.

It pains him to know that you are out in the world and are completely on your own. He should be there to help you, to stop you from making any mistakes. It’s why he has waited so long for you. He let the days pass him by, allowing time to slip through his fingers.

He acted like he was fine, that he was okay. He pretended that he got a full night’s worth of sleep even though he stared out the window, hoping that you would walk through the doors at any moment.

He stares at you through the CCTV footage, wondering if you have come to realize that you hold the leash that’s connected to his dog collar. You stand from your desk, phone in hand, and exit the translator’s offices. He follows you throughout the building. You cross down a few hallways, staring at your phone screen. You press the button to an elevator and step inside.

Caleb sits up at his desk. The see through tablet remains in his hands as he stands. He slowly walks towards his office door, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he clicks through the multiple different feeds, trying to find you. It is only when he notices that you have come to his floor that he realizes that you are coming to find him.

The Colonel rushes to his desk, placing the tablet in the top drawer of his desk. He places his cap on his head, fixing his ling jacket in the reflection of the window, making for sure everything is in place and is perfect because he refuses to give you anything less than. Not anymore, at least.

There is a knock at his office door. He clears his throat and snaps his fingers, a hologram projection of the Deepspace Tunnel flashing to life. He glances towards the door and tightens his tie one last time.

“Come in,” he beckons with a slightly gentler tone than usual.

Caleb does not look in your direction, instead focusing on the projection in front of him. When the door closes and he hears the click of your shoes grow closer to him, he turns, taking in your tired appearance. He opens his mouth to say something but can’t bring himself to say it. He knows that you have already chastised yourself for it. There is no need for him to add to that grievance.

“Hi, pretty bird,” Caleb is the first to speak. You lean against his desk, looking around the clean office. When your eyes meet his, your body relaxes before tensing up once again.

“Caleb,” you breathe out, crossing your arms over your chest, “you need to stop texting me.”

“Why? I want to make for sure that—”

“I”m okay?” you finish his sentence for him. He nods and inches closer to you. He reaches out, his gloved hand diverting at the last second to rest on the desk beside you. You shudder from his sudden closeness, his familiar cologne disarming your weapons. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m afraid that I will never not worry about you,” Caleb whispers. He looks down, noticing the way you hold onto yourself for dear life. His eyes flicker to yours, leaning in. He reaches up and grazes your cheek with his gloved fingers.

You suck in a breath. His touch is electrifying against your skin, igniting flames under your skin, burning with the desire to hold him in your arms and to cry together.

“The General offered me a job,” your words cause his hand to move away from your face, “I think I’m going to take it.”

Caleb knows exactly what the General’s job is. He has been granted permission, alongside Ever, to meet with other countries and discuss the Toring Chip. Many of the countries they are going to speak the languages that you just happen to know and are proficient in. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the General specifically made the job positing with you in mind after the peace summit.

The trip is going to take approximately four months to complete, spending a hefty amount of time in every country, meeting with their leaders and the highest ranking officials in their army. There was sure to be talks outside of the Toring Chip. Minerals, weapons, peace treaties, and alliances are sure to be talked about with you in the center of it all.

Caleb offered to go. He immediately contacted the General and told him that if he needed an extra man, that he is there to help. The General laughed and told him not to worry, that he already has plenty of men coming alongside him and to focus on the Deepspace Tunnel instead of unimportant politics.

Chills run down Caleb’s spine. You look up at him with a determined look in your eyes but Caleb knows that there is something inside your consciousness that is pushing you to run away from him. He wishes that you would have looked the other way when the General offered you the position.

“It’s a great opportunity for me, Caleb,” you breathe out, already sensing the underlying anxiety that forms in the back his mind. “It will give them the chance to see that I am more than a desk job…”

“You don’t need their validation for that,” Caleb quickly counters. “You are more than this entire building. You’re better than them. You don’t need to prove anything.”

“What else can I do? It’s either translating for the Fleet or teaching languages in school,” you suck in a breath, your tone sharp, “I’m stuck where I am and this is going to get me out of it.”

“Then let me take care of you. Stay with me, don’t go with them,” he places his hands on your waist.

“You’re acting like I’m going to be gone forever,” you let out a small laugh, placing your hands on his chest, “it’s just four months.”

“A lot can happen in four months,” Caleb’s gaze burns into yours.

“What are you so afraid of?” your question is bold and daring. “Don’t lie. I think we’ve done enough of that lately.”

“I don’t want you to leave me,” Caleb breathes the words out as if they are powerful enough to hurt you. “I think that if you accept the job, it will worsen our relationship and push us further apart than we already are.”

His words, while sharp, hold his truth. A piece of you knows that what he’s saying is true, that if you were to leave your relationship won’t recover. The space would have become too much. The distance just unbearable.

Are you doing this on purpose? Are you purposefully ruining the only good thing in your life?

You swallow the rest of your spit in your mouth, looking up at Caleb. He sighs and presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes, taking in his closeness and the way his skin feels against yours. Caleb leans in and pecks your mouth, his lips lingering for a few seconds.

“I love you. Please, don’t go,” Caleb whispers.

Silence fills the room. He silently draws in a breath, eyes closed as he waits for your answer.

“Okay,” you whisper, “I won’t go. For us.”

A smile instantly spreads across Caleb’s lips. He pulls you off of the desk and into his arms, kissing the top of your head as you bury your face into his chest. His heartbeat comes to a slow, the adrenaline rush leaving his body. You relax into him, missing how tight his embraces always are. He pulls away and looks down at you, cupping your cheeks between his hands.

“Thank you,” Caleb says. You nod in return, a small smile forming on your face before it disappears.

“I should go tell him my decision, then,” you peel away from Caleb, your hands lingering on each other. He nods and watches as you move back to the door, an unsettling feeling resting in the back of his mind the further you get from him. “Can I…come over tonight?” You ask as you reach the door. “We have a few things to talk about.”

“Of course,” Caleb nods, “I’ll make your favorite for dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” your smile turns real. It makes Caleb’s heart skip a beat. You open up the door to his office and leave, heading down the hall from which you came.

Caleb is happy that you agreed to stay. He will make for sure that life is not boring for you, to help you shimmy up the ladder among your fellow translators. Whatever it is that he needs to do, he’ll make sure it happens. He will do anything for you and your happiness, even if it means blackmailing a few Fleet officers to make for sure you get the best jobs possible instead of being stuck at your desk.

His skin tingles. A sharp pain flashes through his modified arm. His purple eyes move back to the door, the General’s voice creeping into his head. He remembers his phone call with the high ranking official, trying to weave through the conversation to find what it is he needs.

“We’ll take good care of her,” the General told him from over the phone before he hung up.

We’ll take good care of her.

Caleb freezes.

The Toring Chip…four months…different countries…Ever has different buildings in different countries, Caleb knows this first hand from being one of the professor’s favorites.

The job targeted you.

He stares at the door, his heart beginning to pound inside his chest. He forces his feet to move, rushing towards the door. He bursts through, catching the attention of a few adjuncts and lower ranking officers. He stops a secretary from walking by, looking down at them.

“The General. Is he on location today?” Caleb demands, his purple eyes cold and dark.

“Y-Yes! I think his plane is about to take off!” the woman quickly responds, scared by Caleb’s dark demeanor.

The Colonel doesn’t waste another second. He rushes towards the elevator, pressing the button that leads to the tarmac on the top of the building where the General and other officials come in and out of. His boot taps against the floor. The elevator smells of your perfume. It only makes him more anxious.

The elevator doors slide open, a gust of wind hitting Caleb’s face as he bursts out of the door. He shields his eyes from the glaring sun, noticing that there are one too many clouds in the sky for comfort. He rushes across the black top, the soles of his shoes scraping against the coarse material.

Am aircraft’s engine roars to life. The machine whirrs, huffing out bursts of hot air and exhaust from the engines. The sound captures Caleb’s attention. His eyes focus on a few dark figures inside the aircraft. Professor Lucius stands inside, leaning into his cane. On either side of him stands two Fleet soldiers, guns in their hands. They look down at the aircraft’s open door.

You and the General stand in front of each other. Your back is to Caleb. The Professor’s eyes move to focus on the Colonel, who stands from across the tarmac. A sick smirk spreads across his face. The General smiles at you, though, and he nods, turning around before moving back up the ramp of the plane. You turn around.

Your eyes meet Caleb’s. You are just about to take a step towards him when the two soldiers who stand beside Professor Lucius move.

They walk towards you.

Caleb begins to run, his feet slamming against the ground. He watches as your face contorts from pain, your hadn’t shooting up to your neck where a syringe was just plunged into your skin. You wobble around, looking at the soldiers before circling around once again.

Caleb screams your name but it is muffled out from the screams of jet engines and planes. Your vision blurs, hand extended out, reaching for him, before your world turns to black, body going limp. A solider picks you up and carries you inside of the plane. The aircraft’s door slowly closes, clicking shut just as Caleb reaches its vicinity.

The aircraft pulls out of its spot. It rolls down the black asphalt, pulling away from Caleb. The plane picks up speed and lifts into the air just as it reaches the edge of the building. Caleb sprints after it, fighting against the gusts of wind from the engines. He uses his Evol to glide through the air, reaching out for you and the plane. He flies across the sky, a mere black speck compared to the aircraft.

But it’s too late. You and the aircraft are out of his reach, disappearing behind fluffy white clouds, out of Caleb’s reach.

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

#caleb x reader #caleb x non!mc reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb angst #caleb x fem reader #caleb x you #caleb xia #love and deepspace #caleb x y/n #love and deepspace fic #xia yizhou #love and deepspace caleb angst #lads angst #rcvcgers writings #rotten apples ❦︎

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happy74827 · 3 months ago

Text

White Lies

[Spencer Reid x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You have constantly lied to your mother about your private life, as she was one to disapprove of everything, but those "harmless lies" become a lot more serious when you forget to cancel plans with your closest friend.

WC: 3036

Category: Fluff, Fake Dating, Sassy!Reid {TW: Reader’s mom is Authoritarian}

Another drafted idea that I finally wrote up because Spencer is the definition of pookie, and you cannot change my mind. This is also a dedication to my girl, @yoursacredqueenmother, for matching my crazy delulu fantasies 🫶💖

『••✎••』

Your mom has always been a force of nature—a whirlwind of opinions, expectations, and unsolicited advice that sweeps through your life like a hurricane. She’s the kind of woman who believes she knows what’s best for you, even when you’re pretty sure she doesn’t. Ever since you turned 30 last year, her visits have become more frequent, and her nagging has reached a fever pitch.

"You’re getting old, sweetheart," she’d say, her voice dripping with concern that felt more like judgment. "You need to settle down, find a nice man, start a family. I’m not going to be around forever, you know."

The words were always delivered with a smile, but they stung like a slap. You love her, you really do, but her constant pressure makes you feel like you’re failing at some unspoken test of womanhood.

So, to get her off your back, you’d started lying. Little white lies at first—"I’m seeing someone, Mom, it’s just early stages"—but they quickly snowballed into more and more elaborate fibs. Soon, you were telling her that you were dating a doctor who wanted nothing more than to start a family with you but was waiting for the right time.

It was easier to make up a fictitious doctor than to explain the real reason you were still single.

Because the truth is that the man of your dreams is already in your life, he's been here for years, and he's always been the perfect friend. The problem is that he's a little hard to read. You have no idea how he feels about you or if he sees you as more than a friend.

You'd tried to tell him how you felt about him before, but the words had stuck in your throat. He’d seemed so confused, so shocked by the mere suggestion of romance. Maybe he just didn't see you that way. Maybe you’d ruin your friendship by even mentioning the idea.

This led to where you are now: alone, frustrated, and trying to figure out how to keep your mother from butting into your personal life. You’d thought maybe she’d drop the issue after your birthday, but she’d come by to "surprise you" last night and is now currently sitting at the kitchen table, looking around your apartment with an expression of vague disappointment.

"Honey, you’re an adult now," she says, not looking up from her coffee cup. "You can’t keep living like this."

She gestures at the living room, which is scattered with discarded letters and half-read books. The mess is a symptom of the chaos in your head as you’ve been too preoccupied with thoughts of him to worry about cleaning up after yourself.

"It’s not that bad," you mumble, though you know it is. Even he’d commented on the state of your apartment when he’d last stopped by, and his place is usually worse than yours. Messy, not dirty. He’s a bit of an organized hoarder.

"Well, maybe not for a single girl," she sighs. "But what if Doctor Whoever comes over? Don’t you want to impress him?"

You bite your lip, trying to keep your temper in check. This is the problem with your mother—she has a habit of steamrolling over your feelings, and you've never been able to stand up to her. You’d thought you were done having this argument when you turned 30. Apparently, you’d thought wrong.

"Mom," you begin, your voice firm. "I told you, he doesn't care about stuff like that. He's more concerned with things like—"

The doorbell rings, interrupting you mid-sentence. Thank God. You’re not sure what you would have said, but any excuse is better than none. You figured it was the mailman, late with that package you’d been expecting, but when you just so happen to glance at the calendar (the one your father bought you last Christmas, with pictures of cats wearing hats), your stomach drops.

March 21st, which may not seem important, and it really isn’t, unless you look closer and realize that the cat in the picture is wearing a lab coat and is holding a beaker. Because that, my friends, is not just a picture. It is a reminder.

The one thing you had not wanted to forget.

The one thing, apparently, you had forgotten.

You’d been so busy trying to avoid your mother’s questions about your non-existent boyfriend that you’d completely lost track of time. The calendar sits there, taunting you, and all you can think is:

Oh, no.

Because the person who had rang the doorbell? It was him. He and his adorable grin, hazel-like eyes, and messy brown hair. He probably even brought a bag of those terribly expensive chocolates you love.

You want to cry. Of course, it had to be that day, the day of all days, the day you'd been secretly anticipating for all month.

Chess day. It was a monthly ritual you'd started with him when he'd discovered that you, too, were a fan of the game. You were absolutely terrible at it, and he won every time, but honestly, you didn't care. Chess day was just an excuse for you to spend time with him.

Except today, you have company, and it’s not exactly the kind you want him to meet.

You were supposed to call him, but in your haste to please your mom, you completely forgot.

Your mother’s gaze shifts to the door, and her eyebrows rise as if she can sense his presence on the other side. "Well, aren’t you going to answer that?"

No.

That's what you wanted to say. Instead, you hear yourself saying:

"Yeah, just a sec."

And, like a complete idiot, you open the door.

You open the door, and he’s there, all bright-eyed, smiling, holding a box of chocolates and his perfectly polished travel chess set. You feel like the biggest jerk in the world.

"Uh, hey!" he chirps, his voice making your stomach flip. He doesn’t seem to notice the tension in the air or the fact that your mother is standing right behind you, peering curiously over your shoulder. "I know I’m a little early, but I needed to pick up some things and..."

He trails off as his gaze settles on your mother. She’s eyeing him like a hawk and doing what she does when meeting a new person: leaning forward slightly, squinting her eyes, and tilting her head. You can see the wheels turning in her mind.

"Is this him?" she asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

Before you can stop her, she grabs your wrist and pulls you aside. You stumble into the kitchen, and she takes your place, smiling warmly at him.

"So, you’re the doctor," she says, her voice full of approval. "My daughter has told me so much about you!"

Oh, this is bad. So, so bad.

"Uh," he begins, clearly caught off-guard. His eyes dart to yours, and you were expecting his classic confused puppy look, but this time, it’s different. He looks... honored? No, that can't be right.

"She… talked about me?" he stammers, looking back at your mother.

She nods. "All the time! In fact, I was starting to think she’d made you up. It’s good to know my daughter has such a handsome young man in her life."

You want to die. Right there, on the spot. But, somehow, you manage to force a smile, even as your heart pounds with anxiety.

And your mother? She beams.

"It’s lovely to meet you finally," she gushes. She reaches out and shakes his hand, and he stares at her with a dazed expression. "My daughter has always been a bit shy, and she tends to keep things close to the vest if you know what I mean."

"Mom, please," you cut in, mortified. "Stop."

He still hasn't said a word, and the silence is killing you.

"Well, come on in, then," your mother continues, ignoring your protests. "I insist. After all, I can't wait to learn more about my future son-in-law!"

And this is when the situation goes from bad to worse.

This is when he freezes, and the box of chocolates threatens to slip from his fingers. You watched as he struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"I... Uh, that's not... we’re not..."

"Yes! Yes, we are!" you shout, desperate to cover up his stammering. He looks at you, his expression shifting from confused to shocked, and it’s like a punch in the gut. "That’s right, Mom. This is him. My boyfriend. Doctor Whoever."

"Oh, sweetie, this is so wonderful!" Your mother is so busy clapping her hands with delight that she doesn't notice his reaction.

"Doctor… Whoever?" He looks offended and a bit hurt. "What’s that supposed to mean—?"

"Shush!" You hiss, silently pleading with him to keep quiet. He must have caught your desperation because he shuts his mouth.

It allowed you a moment to process everything. Your mother is smiling widely, her face filled with delight. She doesn't even seem bothered by the fact that he’s currently dressed like a college professor with an evident love for scarves.

Meanwhile, he’s standing there, blinking stupidly, looking as if his entire world has been flipped upside-down. He seems torn between anger and elation, and honestly, it’s confusing as hell. You want to grab him and apologize and explain that this was all a mistake, but you can’t. Not with your mother right there.

So, you knew what you had to do.

"Mom! Say, would you mind doing me a huge favor and just give us like a few minutes? We have some important totally-not-boyfriend stuff to discuss."

"Sure, honey." She grins. "I'll do some unpacking. How about that?"

"Perfect!"

She practically skips into the other room, leaving the two of you alone. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut.

The sigh you let out is one of relief, tinged with the faintest hint of dread.

Though, he was the first to break the silence with words.

"I didn’t realize we were dating," he says, his voice low. He's not quite glaring at you, but it's a close thing. "Last time I checked, statistically, dating requires at least two people. Which leads me to the logical conclusion that you are, in fact, a liar. Unless this is some strange, newfangled term for friendship, in which case, I think it would be more appropriate for me to refer to you as the "teller of lies" rather than a—"

"I know, I'm sorry." You blurt out, your cheeks flushing with shame. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. She was asking all these questions, and I couldn't tell her the truth, and then she just kept talking, and I couldn't get a word in edgewise, and... I panicked. Okay? That’s all."

"What do you mean, couldn’t tell her the truth?" He narrows his eyes. "Is something wrong? Did you get yourself into trouble?"

"No! No, nothing like that."

"Then, what is it that you can't tell her?"

He steps closer, and the concern in his eyes makes you feel even guiltier.

"Look, don't worry about it, alright? It’s not important." You turn away, refusing to meet his gaze.

"If it isn’t important, then why are you so embarrassed?"

"I’m not embarrassed."

"Your cheeks are flushed," he points out. "And you tend to rub your thumb against your forefinger when you’re feeling nervous or stressed. Which, coincidentally, is also something you do when you’re lying."

Damn it. You should’ve known better than to lie to a profiler.

"You don’t know what it’s like to be interrogated by my mother," you snap, harsher than intended. You soften your voice before continuing. "It’s like she’s constantly see-sawing between disapproval and pity. She means well, but when she’s around, I feel like I'm being crushed under the weight of her expectations."

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

"And I know, I know, that’s not an excuse for lying. I just... I’m sorry, okay? It was wrong and selfish and... I didn’t mean to drag you into it."

You brace yourself for the inevitable rejection, the anger, the disappointment. Instead, you hear him let out a sigh, followed by the familiar look of resolve that comes over him when he's faced with a challenging puzzle.

"You know, when we first met, you used to lie all the time." He glances at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You would say things like, 'I don't watch rom-coms,' and, 'I have a real job,' and, most infamously, 'there's no such thing as aliens.'"

"Hold on a minute—"

He ignored your protests, his smile growing wider.

"You’re not that bad of a liar. Actually, you’re pretty decent, considering your lack of social skills. So the fact that you’ve managed to fool your mother is pretty impressive."

"Hey—"

"And, honestly, it’s a little flattering."

"I— Wait… what?" You gape at him, trying to figure out what's going on. "Flattering?"

He shrugs, but you can tell he's trying not to blush.

"Liars tend to use people they know well or trust implicitly when they need a cover story because they have more information about them and are therefore more believable. So, by lying about your fake boyfriend, that being me, it suggests that you trust me enough to make a convincing cover story, and the fact that you are embarrassed about the deception implies a certain amount of fondness."

"You can't know all that from a simple lie."

"Can’t I?"

There's something in his tone, the slightest hint of a tease, that makes your heart flutter. He's always been like this, so damn perceptive. You never knew what to make of it.

"It’s actually a well-established behavioral theory," he continues. "Deceivers typically show affection toward the person they are attempting to deceive. In fact, a study in the 1970s—"

"Spencer, please." You hold up a hand. "I get it."

"I'm not so sure that you do."

There's an intensity in his gaze that makes your stomach do backflips.

"Because," he murmurs, moving a little closer, "if you did, I wouldn’t have had to spend the past three years of my life wondering why my best friend keeps avoiding my gaze."

"You noticed that?" You squeak, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

"I notice everything."

He takes a step toward you, and it’s so quick, so unexpected, that you can't help but glance up. He's actually extremely close, his face mere inches from yours, and you find yourself frozen, unable to speak, unable to think, as his eyes lock with yours.

"I notice that the color of your eyes changes depending on the lighting." He pauses, and his voice grows softer. "And I notice that your pupils dilate when I'm near. I notice the way you breathe, the way you laugh, the way you chew your bottom lip when you’re deep in thought. And I can’t help but notice that the closer I get, the faster your heart rate becomes. That could be a number of things, of course, and not just an indication of arousal, but considering the context, the likelihood that it’s due to anything other than sexual excitement is simply—"

"Spence," you breathe, your pulse pounding in your ears. You’re not sure what to do, so you blurt out the first thing that pops into your mind. "Do you want to be my fake boyfriend?"

There’s a moment of silence, followed by a quiet snort.

"I thought I already was."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but the tension between you has lessened. Now, he’s simply staring at you with a smug smile, and it's like a dam has burst. The words tumble out of your mouth, spilling out like water from a leaky faucet.

"Well, then, you should know that my boyfriend is absolutely infuriating and has a tendency to ramble about obscure facts at inappropriate moments. And he’s really, really bad at taking a hint."

His smile widens, and his voice takes on a teasing tone.

"Oh, he is, is he? Tell me, is he good at chess?"

"No, he’s terrible at it."

"Then, he sounds like a total loser."

"Yeah," you admit, biting back a smile. "He’s the biggest loser I know."

"In that case, you should know that my girlfriend is incredibly frustrating and a compulsive liar who uses her boyfriend for cover stories. She also tends to cheat her way to victory despite still losing most of the time."

"I do not cheat!" You protest, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

"No, you just make up rules on the spot in order to justify why you lose so badly."

"You’re one to talk. You’re the one who’s been letting me win all this time."

"Perhaps," he grins. "Or maybe I’ve been letting you believe that."

You narrow your eyes.

"Are you admitting to me what I think you're admitting?"

"What is it that you think I’m admitting to?"

"I think you’re admitting to me that you’ve been throwing our chess games all this time."

"That sounds like the ramblings of someone who cheats and is trying to project their own faults onto others."

"Oh, you know what—"

And that's when the bedroom door swings open, and your mother's voice cuts through the air like a knife.

"Ahem."

She's standing there, smiling, and holding a box filled with old pictures and baby toys. Your father had sent it to you last year, hoping that you’d have children soon and use it, but you’d put it in storage, intending to deal with it later. Apparently, your mother had decided now was the perfect time.

The both of you share a look, and it's clear that he’s thinking the same thing as you.

"Not interrupting, am I?" She asks, glancing from him to you and then back again. Her smile was practically glowing, and she had a strange look in her eyes as if she were a cat watching a bird. "I was just looking for a place to put these old things and thought maybe my daughter's boyfriend might be interested in seeing them."

The shared look between the two of you solidified what was going through both of your minds. This was indeed going to be a long, long afternoon.

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hsnlv · 6 months ago

Text

soft beginnings | s.jy

pairing: dad-to-be!jake x mom-to-be!reader

synopsis: you and jake are getting ready for your baby, but jake’s full of doubts about fatherhood. with plenty of laughter, love, and tiny socks, you learn that even the smallest moments can mean the world.

warnings: fluff!, jake has self-doubt but it’s adorable dont worry >< reader is pregnant if that is not clear (i love pregnant tropes actually because it’s cute hehe)

wc: 1.1k

a/n: ive been writing a lot lately since im currently on semester break but enjoy ^^ here’s my masterlist!

jake sat on the nursery floor, holding a pair of impossibly small socks between his fingers like they were some kind of alien artifact. his brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a pout that you would’ve called adorable if he wasn’t so deadly serious.

“okay, babe,” he said finally, holding the socks up for emphasis. “these cannot be for a human. i don’t care what you say.”

you couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing from your spot on the rocking chair, where you were sorting through a mountain of baby clothes. “jake, they’re for a newborn. they’re supposed to be that tiny.”

he squinted at the socks like they might reveal their secrets if he stared long enough. “nope. sorry. these are for a hamster. or maybe a very small rabbit.”

“are you calling our baby a rabbit?” you teased, grinning as you leaned back in the chair.

“i’m just saying,” he continued, waving the socks around like he was making a grand point. “what if their feet don’t fit? what if their toes are too big? i don’t even know what baby feet look like!”

you laughed so hard that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m serious!” he insisted, though the twitch of his lips betrayed him. “what if i try to put these on and they just… fall off? or what if i lose one? it’s not like i can run to the store and ask for replacement jellybean-sized socks!”

that did it—you dissolved into giggles, your belly shaking as you leaned forward. “jake, you’re going to be fine,” you said, wiping your eyes. “i promise, putting socks on a baby isn’t as hard as you think.”

he flopped dramatically onto his back, groaning. “i’m not ready for this.”

“you are,” you said, crawling over to him and sitting on your knees by his side. you rested your chin on his chest, tilting your head to look up at him. “you’re going to be the best dad ever.”

he gazed down at you, his expression softening, but you could still see the hint of doubt in his eyes. “you really think so?”

“i know so,” you said, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “you’ve got the dad jokes down already. the rest is just practice.”

he groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “yeah, but what about the important stuff? like… like making bottles. or changing diapers! do you know how many straps and tabs those things have? it’s like trying to assemble IKEA furniture!”

you snorted, pressing your forehead to his chest as you laughed. “it’s not that bad.”

“it is that bad,” he said, sitting up suddenly. his hands flailed a bit as he tried to explain. “and what if i don’t wake up when the baby cries? or—or what if i hold them wrong? what if i drop them? oh my god, what if i don’t know how to swaddle? they’re gonna hate me.”

“jake.” you placed your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “take a deep breath.”

he inhaled shakily, his wide eyes locking onto yours.

“you’re not going to drop the baby,” you said firmly. “or hold them wrong. and even if you mess up the first swaddle, or it takes you a few tries to get the diaper right, it’s okay. you’ll figure it out.”

he didn’t look entirely convinced, so you leaned closer, your voice softer now. “do you remember when we first got peanut?”

he blinked, his brows furrowing. “our dog?”

“yeah. you were so nervous about training him. you kept googling everything, and you were convinced he was going to hate you because you couldn’t get him to sit on command.”

jake huffed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “okay, yeah, but peanut was a little menace at first.”

“he was,” you agreed, grinning. “but you didn’t give up. you were so patient and sweet with him, and now he listens to you better than he listens to me.”

jake let out a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

“it’s going to be the same with the baby,” you said, brushing your thumbs gently over his cheekbones. “you’re going to love them so much that none of the little mistakes will matter. and they’re definitely not going to hate you for struggling with a diaper or two.”

“you sure about that?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“absolutely,” you said, smiling.

he sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “what would i do without you?”

“probably drown in a pile of tiny socks,” you teased, laughing softly.

“you’re not wrong,” he muttered, but he was smiling again.

you both sat there for a moment, the quiet hum of the nursery filling the air. then jake pulled back slightly, his hand drifting to your belly.

“hey, little one,” he murmured, his voice soft and warm. “just so you know, your mom’s the best person in the world. so if i mess up, she’s gonna make sure you’re taken care of. and if you could, uh… maybe go easy on me with the diapers, that’d be great.”

you laughed, swatting at his shoulder. “stop making deals with the baby!”

“what? i’m just saying!” he said, grinning.

he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your belly, murmuring something too quiet for you to hear. when he sat up again, his eyes were brighter, his usual spark returning.

“okay,” he said, grabbing the tiny socks and holding them up like a trophy. “we’re definitely framing these.”

“i knew you’d come around,” you said, smiling as you kissed his cheek.

the rest of the afternoon was spent folding onesies and arranging books on the shelves, with jake tossing out ridiculous questions every five minutes.

“what if the baby doesn’t like my cooking?”

“jake, they’re not going to eat anything you cook for at least a year.”

“what if they cry every time i pick them up?”

“then you’ll hold them until they stop crying.”

“what if they call me ‘dude’ instead of ‘dad’?”

“then they’re definitely your kid.”

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the nursery was mostly finished. the crib stood in the corner, draped with a soft, pastel blanket, and the bookshelf was packed with stories you couldn’t wait to read aloud.

you stood in the doorway with jake, his arm around your shoulders as you both took in the space.

“it’s perfect,” you murmured, leaning into his side.

“almost perfect,” he said, resting a hand on your belly. “just missing one thing.”

you smiled, your hand covering his. “they’ll be here soon enough.”

he pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice filled with quiet awe. “soon enough,” he echoed.

and in that moment, surrounded by love and laughter and the promise of something even sweeter, you knew your little family was already complete in all the ways that mattered.

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muntitled · 2 years ago

Note

omg hi pookie bear , hru ?

i’m going feral and have a request <\3 hmm what if anton hasn’t seen his gf in a few months because she stays in the states . they usually make sure to call and check in with each other every night but maybe for the last few days she hasn’t been responding too much but only because she’s flying to go surprise him ! so basically a bit of angst then fluff at the end loll (and a little smut if ur up to it 🤓👆🏾) .

also, can i be 🎀 anon ?!

Of course, my darling! Thank you for the lovely request, I literally had so much fun writing this omg.

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Anton Lee x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, Angst, Jealousy, Relationship Paranoia, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Spitting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Unprotected Sex, Needy Sex

He wouldn't call himself obsessive.

That's not the correct word. Infatuation would probably best explain the tempest of emotions rattling through his brain when his phone rings, signaling a video call from you.

Sungchan's chest rises and falls with the extremities of their evening workout. He barely keeps himself toppling over when he and the rest of the group watch Anton lumber to his bag in large, quick steps

"Yo?" Sohee asks, anatomically defeated as he races to catch his breath.

"Carry on, without me," Anton throws over his hunched shoulder. He is cupping his phone with both hands when he enters one of the many bathrooms peppered throughout the gym, letting his feet guide him almost robotically into a stall while his finger swipes to answer the video call. At the sight of your relaxed smile, Anton exhales lightly.

He knew it's particularly bad to form dependant relationships, but he couldn't exactly help himself, can he? Your voice is just so light when you say, "Hi," and his is equally shy as he replies with his quiet "Hi yourself."

Anton can not help himself from being so incredibly infatuated. He's diving headfirst into codependency, but hey, at least he is aware.

At least he is aware that he would do quite literally anything for the girl in trapped in his phone, and you would do the same for him, therefore it is of no surprise at all when he airly says, "You're so pretty,"

His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes are bright as he buries the lower half of his face in the comforting fleece of his black sweater. "Really pretty,"

An airy sort of chuckle escapes the confines of your lips, and Anton's pulse begins to race as he takes note of your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. "Anton, did you hear anything I just said?" If it weren't for the slight hesitation that pollutes the sound of your beautiful voice, Anton would've gladly kept staring at your lips. But his heart sinks imperceptibly as he gazes back at you apprehensively.

"Uh- no," he says, "I was too busy thinking about how excited I am for you to get here." The panic only begins to set when your smile wavers.

"Oh... about that-"

"No," he whispers, "Please don't do that-"

"My boss hasn't exactly cleared me for a vacation day-"

Anton is livid, but his voice remains stable. "We have spoken about this for 2 months!"

"You know how my boss can be," you reply, "He hasn't given me off, Anton. I have no one to cover my shift, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, as the dreaded guilt begins to trickle into your voice. Anton's eyes narrow, and he brings his phone closer. Temporarily ignoring his whirlwind of negative emotions, Anton instead skeptically asks, "Where are you?" That doesn't look like your bathroom."

Anton's heart only sinks lower into the pit of his stomach when he notices a quick hint of alarm flash through your eyes before you're pulling the camera back into a more intimate aspect ratio as you prattle on. "Yeah, I just decided to head to the movies to make myself feel better. Maybe you should do the same," your voice is tight and layered with anxiety as if you were... lying to him.

Anton cannot imagine why you would want to do that, least of all to him. He knew when you lied because you both did it together. On myriad occasions.

He made you call up your part-time job on multiple occasions, rubbing smoothe, encouraging circles on your belly while you feigned an illness just to spend more time with him.

In high school, you had both lied to each of your parents about 'studying together' when in actual fact, those 4 had been excuses to make out messily in your sheets. Exploring confusing emotions until a simmering heat flowed through the both of you while Anton's large hands began to pet over new, various spots on your body.

He had never been on the receiving end of your dishonesty, not even since he left the country. But here you are, evading eye contact, stuttering over your words and lying...

to him.

"How's the team workout been, big boy?" He notices with grave finality how quick you are to not only change the subject, but to weaponize a nickname that you knew would have him melting for you.

Is this what you have both become?

Was he seriously being manipulated?

Was he...

Perhaps...

Being cheated on?

The thought sent a wave of nausea threatening to spill out of his badly pursed lips, and perhaps you realize, from years of studying Anton's non verbal expressions, that he was thinking of something very grave and very bad.

"Hey, didn't you say you only had five minutes?" Your voice is like the tingling goosebumps left in the wake of your nails raking across his skin and he shivers slightly.

"Yeah," his voice, although characteristically quiet, is guarded and you frown, perhaps noticing that you have a lot of making up to do.

Anton suddenly, quite literally out of the blue, asks, "Remember when you said you went bra shopping the other day?

"Yeah?" You ask, completely oblivious to the darkened thoughts polluting your boyfriend's mind. You watch his eyes tare into yours as he monotonously asks.

"Are you wearing any of the new ones right now?"

"Anton, aren't you in the middle of-"

He immediately cuts in, voice impatient and snide, "They can carry on without me, it's fine."

It was petulant, but Anton needed to know you still belonged to him. He needed to know that high school wasn't some sick fever dream you could just swiftly move past as if it meant nothing. He needed to know that.

"Can I see?"

You curtly comply, and you look around before pushing yourself further into the stall. You both found yourselves on opposite end of a cellular line, both silent with the weight of your attraction to one another, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

"Please?" He asks, in an airy voice, "for me?"

Anton knew from the strike of guilt in his chest that it was not a morally correct thing to do, but what else was there?

You would be away from him, indefinitely. He would have to spend another evening, another week, another month without your body to hold onto. Not to mention, the jealousy at this new hypothetical boyfriend still hung heavily on his shoulders.

Besides, Anton's guilt completely disappeared when you begrudgingly pulled the string of your halter neck down until the material was falling flmisily down your torso, exposing your chest to him. Anton released a wobbly breath while his hand almost immediately went to cover the bulge, forming in his oversized pants. "Oh god," he whispered.

It was so remarkably mesmerising watching your boyfriend slips so easily into desire. You knew he was angry and that made this part of the mission remarkably uncomfortable, but instead, you choose to focus on Anton's lumbering breathing through the screen of your phone. His large eyes hooded and locked onto your breasts, still very much covered by your white lace bra.

Although he cannot see anything besides cleavage, Anton reckons he could cum just from this. That's how bad he needs you, that's how bad he yearns for your soft, grounding presence to be near him.

But your phone chimes. And just as Anton's jaw locks, you exclaim, "Babe, I have to go-"

"What?" The frown on his face is astounding, but you're already propping your phone up to pull up the strings of your dress.

His protests fall on deaf ears.

You could not very well tell him that you have already touched down in Korea. You couldn't tell him the unrecognizable bathroom stall was a sterile cubicle in the international airport. You couldn't tell him that you were closer than he thought.

"My movie is gonna start soon,"

His shoulders visibly deflate and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

"Skip it,"

"I'll call later okay?"

"Skip the movie."

"I love you,"

When you abruptly ended the call, Anton stared at his screen until the dimness turned to black, with only one question permeating through his restless mind.

'Do you?'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"You say you hear me," Sohee's voice reaches the rafters as the group of boys leave the gym. "You hear me, but do you feel me?"

"Gross," Anton mumbles, leaving Sohee behind.

"It's a simple question," The older boy continues, "at what point does water become soup?"

"When any reasonable amount of seasoning is added," pipes up Shotaro, adjusting the straps of his work out bag along his shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Eunseok grumbles as they all walk out into the cool night air.

Anton's gaze is still lowered to the floor, but his breath stutters momentarily at the sudden rush of the open air.

"So salt water can be considered soup?" Sohee scoffs, "That's what you're telling me right now?" The group groans in unison, all beginning to walk like a hive mind to the nearest restaurant. All except Anton, who is quieter than usual, whose only plans for the evening consist of wallowing in self-pity.

"Hey, um, I'm just gonna go home," he says, causing the group of boys to stop in their tracks. Anton evade their curious, worried gazes.

"Not when you look like you're about kill yourself-" Shotaro says, attempting to step closer to Anton, but only frowning when the youngest takes a step back.

"That's okay," he attempts to reassure his friends, "There's a beat thats been..." Anton does vague hand gestures to the side of his head, "I wanna go work,"

He was already walking away, head bowed, and headphones pushed over his head, walking into the night before his friends could even get a word in...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He could not describe his feelings as Jealousy. That somehow felt like to tame a word to describe the flurry of emotions hanging so heavily on Anton's face as he pushes the password into the door's keypad, before kicking his shoes off at the door.

Anger was certainly a part of it. The large monolith of emotions threating to burst right through him. He felt unpleasantly overstimulated, even in the silence of the apartment. He felt like anything and everything was threatening to have him burst at the seams, his emotions running along the rim of his usually calm and collected state of mind, ready to spill over and make a dreaded mess everywhere.

Anton's only plans for the night had been to lock himself in his dorm room, perhaps crying, perhaps screaming, perhaps knocking himself out for a couple hours with his prescription sleeping pills. Anything to make this horrific strain on his heart disappeared.

The baggy clothes he is accustomed to wearing somehow appear bigger and sloppier as he lumbers his way deeper into the apartment, heart sinking the more steps he takes.

"Oh look,"

Cold, piercing phantom pain zings through his heart, kickstarting every dormant sleepy cell in his body.

"A dinosaur,"

Anton thinks that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. His socks are glued to the threshold, watching you, or perhaps an apparition of you, laying lazily on his bed.

His bed.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you watch with furrowed brows as Anton brings his two hands up to his face. You immediately push yourself off the bed when he begins to slap lightly at his cheeks, whispering incoherently about asylums and potentially getting a contact high.

His cheeks are already bright red when you stumble your way in front of him.

“Woah, Big boy,” your hands are on his wrist, effectively stopping Anton from reddening the skin any further.

He can feel you. He can feel the softness of your palms struggling to enclose around his large wrists.

“This is real,” he whispers, watching with wide, doe eyes as a smirk curls at the end of your lips. Before you can reply in whatever witty or snarky remark you had cooked up, Anton was already bending his head until his lips were crashing down to yours.

He very surprisingly, very uncharacteristically pours his strength into the kiss until you were stumbling back rather clumsily into his room.

Anton crumbles into a flurry moans and groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, melting into a whimpering puddle when your tongue brushes against his. “B-But when?” he breathes out before reattaching his lips to yours, letting his hands roam unabashedly over every part of your body it can find.

The infuriating need to breathe causes him to pull apart from you once again, but he never strays too far. Anton’s fingers dig into your sides until he's pulling your dress over your head. He wishes to capture every single inch of your exposed body to memory. The way you look up at him with a light, relieved smile curling at the sides of your puffy, red lips.

You're so much shorter than him, and it sends his brain into a mindless, state of lust. He loves how big he feels when you two are together, in the flesh with no digital box separating the two of you.

“H-How?” He breathes out, noting immediate that you are in the same white lace bra from your earlier phone call.

There is a cheeky smile on your face when you pull his oversized shirt over his head, all while he stares you down as if you hung the moon.

“I always keep my promises, Ant,”

His body betrays him with a rough shiver and he groans as you push him onto his bed, discarding his shirt behind you. As you prowl your way on top of him, Ant throws his head back into the sheets, nearly hyperventilating at the sight of you straddling his hips. You lift your torso, immediately discarding your bra, and Anton’s hand flies to cup your breasts. This, he immediately decides, is what heaven looks like.

“Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, you know that?” Anton rarely ever swore, so to hear the crass words coated in his airy, breathless voice is enough to have you moaning into the air, arching your back as you push his face into your chest while you press your core down onto his irresistible bulge.

“Oh God, Anton.”

“Missed you so much,’ he whines, before enclosing his mouth around your nipple, almost instinctively pushing his hips up to meet your desperate grinding. You were quite literally humping like maddened adolescents brimming with too many hormones to know what to do with.

When Anton feels his cock twitching in his pants, he immediately pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “I need to be inside of you,” he admits gravely, already getting up to switch places until you were underneath his large and lumbering frame, “I don't think I'll last long,” Another grave admittance. He pushes his hand into his sweatpants, and you watch, mesmerized as he reveals his large, aching cock absolutely leaking precum.

“I'm definitely not gonna last long,” you reassure before eagerly opening your restless legs, “We're gonna cum together, yeah?” Anton squeezes his eyes shut before squeezing the base of his twitching dick. All while you slip your own underwear down.

“Yeah,” he agreed before positioning his cock at your weeping enterance.

You both watch mesmerized as his cock begins to stretch the tight walls of your soaked cunt. The stretch, immediately causing a whimper to slip out of your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. You're clenching around him, while Anton coaxes himself into you with shallow thrusts. The rutting being just enough to spill a wave of pleasure over the both of you. He watches you moan with wide, pained eyes.

“I know, baby-” He whisper, “You're doing so good for me, you know that?”

“Fuck, you're so big,” is all you're able to say, effectively causing his hips to stutter.

“F-Fuck I'm not gonna last long-”

Instead of repeating your response, you bring your hips up to meet Anton's thrusts effectively, taking him deeper and deeper until he was fucking you with little to no restraint.

“Oh God,” you whisper, as Anton clumsily brings a hand up to squeeze and pinch at your nipples. Not even a minute later and you're both sitting in the crest of your respective orgasms, looking deep into each other's eyes as if you were communicating that fact. Anton nods, completely dazed.

“Close,” he whimpers, “I'm so fucking close,”

Anton bends his head, spitting directly onto your clit. The sight has your hips stuttering, as the first signs of your orgasm warms your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck, Ant- I'm-”

The moment his hand travels to rub dizzying wet circles on your clit, you crash into your orgasm.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck-” He fights to keep his eyes open but your squeezing him so hard and Anton can't help but cum directly inside of you. Both your lips are hanging open as your boyfriend attempts to fuck every last drop of his seed into you. You're both releasing months worth of frustration.

The frustration of not being near one another. Of relying on a device to keep your relationship afloat. It all comes crashing down until Anton's is thoughtlessly collapsing on top of you - the weight of a giant landing your front, with his hand playing lazily, wiyh your breasts as you both fight to catch your breathe.

Despite the obvious discomfort, the very last thing you think of doing is pushing him away. Instead, you cradle him closer, raking your fingers into his hair while his eyes flutter shut.

All is quiet, and you vaguely believe Anton may have fallen asleep, but his voice is wide awake as he says, “I thought you were cheating on me.”

You remain quiet, hoping the soft petting on his wild curls was reply enough.

“I'm never letting you go back, okay?”

Your eyes are heavy as you continue to smooothe down his hair, and you whisper, “Okay”.

♡♡♡

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