#ao3 and ch2 links in notes

[aeyumicore]

captive bird - caleb 夏以昼

tension boils over during the thunderstorm in caleb’s living room—things get heated. what really happens in captive bird when caleb and mc are finally honest with how they feel about each other.

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: caleb x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings/angst, fluff, canon story continuation

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 13.4k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, SPOILERS TO CAPTIVE BIRD (main story), more compliant with original chinese script, not incest (it’s very clear they are not related and do not feel related), unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, virginity loss (male and female), panty sniffing/licking (while on female mc), panty stealing, multiple orgasms, light choking, improper use of Evol, lots and lots of dirty talking (caleb is a vocal man), lots of pet names (princess, brat, baby, babygirl, and the occasional pip-squeak), cumming on stomach, cum…licking?, use of gege, size difference, use of Y/N, lots and lots of main story/lore/anecdote references, lots of feelings and angst, references to caleb’s right arm, bratty mc/brat tamer caleb

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3 | captive bird video (also has entire ch2)

━ ✧.˖ A/N: vomits everywhere DON’T LOOK AT ME,,,,,idk how this got out of hand….i was hoping it would be MAX 9-10k…it’s 13k….anyways i hope you enjoy <3 first of many love letters to caleb, my babyyy. 

if you cannot tell yes caleb is my favorite….far far behind is sylus and then behind him is zayne. but i fear it is not even close. 

this is the first installment of my “””planned””” caleb series - essentially it’ll be smutty moments throughout the canon content: main story, five star mems, bonds, etc. no schedule, no promises. i will write when i feel inspired <3 

lore and plot build up is probably 4k words and the smut is like 9k. It goes lore → smut so you can skip the plot and go straight to the smut if youd like LOL

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

part one | part two |

“Our reporters out in the field confirmed the lockdown will be lifted after being in effect for weeks. The Farspace Fleet assures everyone that the explosion in the Cascade District will not happen again–”

The newscaster is cut off when Caleb shuts off the television, coming up behind you. True to his word, three days had passed and it seemed the situation in Skyhaven was on the cusp of “resolving.” You’d finally be able to return home soon. 

Home–to Linkon. It used to be Caleb’s home too. 

On the other hand, your prickly relationship with Caleb had only tensed further in the past few days. You’d exchanged maybe a handful of words, not for lack of trying on his part. 

After he had clasped the monitoring bracelet onto your wrist, he may as well have locked away the last bit of hope you had that the Caleb you once knew was still under that prim and poised Colonel’s uniform. 

In your time at Skyhaven, he’d proven time and time again that the Caleb you grew up with, the gege you once loved, was gone. And what remained was someone you did not recognize, and didn’t know if you cared to. 

And yet, in the three days you locked yourself in the hollow room of his suffocating home, he’d still cook every meal for you, despite being gone much of the day. Three times a day, without fail, a tray of your favorite Caleb specials would show up at the foot of your door, accompanied by small and ridiculous sticky notes that pulled relentlessly at your heartstrings.

Caleb always loved notes. He used to say it was your guys’ thing.

But now, you weren’t so sure there was a you and him anymore. 

“After all this is over, the Fleet will return to the Deepspace Tunnel. You’ll be safe. For now,” Caleb’s words cut through your thoughts. You nearly jump at the sound of his voice, this being the most you’d allowed him to say to you lately. 

What’s more jarring is the idea that the Farspace Fleet is leaving Skyhaven. You’d forgotten that they hardly ever stationed here–spending most, if not all, their time patrolling the Deepspace Tunnel. 

“So you’re just going to leave again? Without saying anything?” you bite out, overwhelmed by a bitterness you hadn’t quite processed since reuniting with him. 

Caleb smiles, a ghostlike smirk that doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s riddled in self deprecation and pity, “You won’t have to see me anymore. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he chuckles and grabs your wrist, “I’m about to leave. Let’s have dinner together.”

Between the idea that Caleb is leaving you yet again, and him making yet another demand of you, you violently rip your arm away from him. Your words are venomous as you spit them out, “So I have to listen to the Colonel even when it comes to eating and drinking now?”

You storm away from him, sitting on the couch in the living room, hands clenched in your lap. Your gaze is fixed on your angrily quaking fists, and in the corners of your vision you see Caleb seating himself on the ottoman in front of you.

“You can be mad, but don’t let it affect your health,” he holds out an apple in front of you, a silent offering. It's perfectly red opulent skin only makes you bristle with more annoyance. 

“I’m not mad.”

Caleb chuckles knowingly, “Growing up, I knew you better than anyone.”

His voice doesn’t change but there’s an undercurrent of emptiness that makes you look up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes, his cheek resting on his fist as he turns the apple in his fingers, the ruby skin glinting under the lights.

“I could see through your lies before you could blink. Bite your lip, and I could instantly tell you were upset.” 

He speaks as if remembering something precious he’d lost, violet eyes briefly flickering to yours before they cast downward again, focussing on the apple like it might solve your problems. 

“Then tell me, since you know me so well, what am I thinking right now?” 

Before he can respond, you continue, “I’m thinking…how did you turn into someone I can’t even recognize?” 

Part of you regrets the words as soon they come out. But the other part, the larger part, wants him to see what you see. To feel what you feel. You think that part of you wants to hurt him like he’s been hurting you.

Caleb chuckles darkly, putting the apple back into the fruit bowl on the coffee table with the other perfect and untouched apples, “I know. You’re thinking a chip got put into my brain and it changed who I am, right?”

His shadowed gaze  meets yours, unfathomable emotions shining through the eyes you once found immeasurable comfort in. He reaches out to hold your cheek, his fingers grazing your jaw. The look in his stormy eyes makes your skin crawl, and yet his touch is so unbearably familiar that you can’t help but lean into him. 

“What if I told you…I was always this person?” 

Your breath catches at the inexplicable hope that clashes with the sinister darkness shadowing his face. His deceptively simple words have you unconsciously inching away from him, your mind reeling as you struggle to accept them. Refuse to accept them.

Could he really always have been this person? 

Could you really have been so deluded that you’d fallen in love with a complete stranger? 

No, not a stranger–but someone who never even existed to begin with. 

You recoil, not from his touch–but from his words, your spine hitting the back of the couch. There’s a split second where Caleb’s face falls, a flash of the sweet innocent boy you were yearning for finding its way to the surface. But then his face hardens, his Colonel’s mask slipping back on. 

He stands before you, between your parted knees, his height looming over you like the impending storm that brews just outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the glass cage that was his home. 

Caleb’s voice is so rough you almost don’t recognize it. His fist grasps the back of the couch beside your head, trapping you between it and him. You can’t bring yourself to push him away, your chest pounding at his proximity, eyes instinctively drawn into the curves of his lips as he speaks. 

“It’s you who’s still living in a fantasy, Y/N.”

Those hauntingly beautiful amethyst irises search yours for even a glimmer of understanding. You’re nearly consumed by the stark contrast of the frenzy and despair in them.

“The people who want your power–who’d hurt you. They should all just…disappear.” 

Caleb speaks with such a sinister conviction, as if he’s swearing a solemn oath to you. One that paints your skin with goosebumps at just how serious you can tell he is. How much of his humanity he’s willing to throw away–for you.

“You’re only safe when you’re by my side.”

He smiles at you, a deceptively warm smile that reminds you of the gege who always bandaged your knees and shielded you from the thunderstorms that reminded you of the roar of Wanderers. The Caleb your heart found itself inexplicably yearning for, no matter how much you told yourself you shouldn't. 

But the flickering darkness–the frantic despair in his deep purple eyes pulls you back into reality, like a blackhole swallowing all the light around it. 

“I’d rather be in danger than live like this, Caleb!” the sheer anger you’d held onto from the last three days boils over, tears of frustration pooling in the corner of your eyes. 

Your next words come tumbling out before you can stop them, knowing just how much they’ll hurt him. You’re not even sure they’re true–but once the floodgates open, you can’t shut them.

“I don’t need you!”

Caleb’s gentle smile transforms into one of disbelief as your palm rests on his chest, finally finding the strength to push him away. When he glances away from you, his eyes darting around frantically, he looks hopelessly lost. A plane adrift. 

“Don’t need me?”

His voice is incredulous as he grabs your wrist, holding it above your head. His grip is firm and unyielding, but not enough to hurt you in the slightest. Caleb always knew just how much you could take, after all. 

It doesn’t take much for him to pin you firmly against the couch, leaning in closer to cage you into the furniture. In the back of your mind, you know you should shove him off–slap him even. 

But all you could focus on is the way his long eyelashes are so close you could count them. How you can feel his heated breath fan across your parted lips, practically able to taste him on your tongue.

You can’t find it in yourself to put up a fight, unable to even tear your eyes away from him as the dark expanding universe in his irises searches yours. All you can do is weakly, pathetically, hit his arm. 

“Then tell me, what do you need? I can give you anything.” 

Did you want him to leave?

Your heart pounds at his words, the raw honesty and vulnerability dripping off of them, so serious it was nearly a threat. The desperate glint in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. 

You didn’t recognize him in the slightest. 

“You want to return to Linkon? Then we can go back to Linkon.”

Could you return to Linkon with him? To the place where you’d held Caleb’s hand for the first time and inevitably fallen in love with the gege who’d protected you all your life? A man who was now no more than a ghost of who he once was.

“If you want to return to the past, then we can rebuild our old house and live together again.”

House. Not home. Because that’d been destroyed in the same explosion that’d killed your Caleb. 

“And if one house isn’t enough, I’ll build you an entire maze.”

A maze. Designed with the illusion of a way out, but in reality you knew it’d just be another way to keep you caged in like a little helpless bird all over again. Flying around aimlessly–lost.

“I’ll decorate it with everything you could ever want. It will be the most beautiful, stunning garden you’ve ever seen.”

Caleb holds your face possessively as he speaks, as if you might disappear at any moment. His thumb catches stray tears as they descend your cheek. The devotion in his yearning eyes is boundless, a void threatening to swallow you whole. 

A dream world just for the two of you. 

“No one will ever be able to find you ever again. I’ll protect you forever.”

The dream shatters into a million glass fragments, the shards embedding into your heart that had bled and scabbed over so many times these past few weeks in Skyhaven that it was unrecognizable. 

You press your free palm into his chest, pushing back gently. There’s no frustration or urgency this time, just a heartfelt plea that you can’t quite place. 

“Caleb…you shouldn’t do this.”

The words feel foreign as they leave the tip of your tongue. 

“You’re my…” the term feels like acid but you force it out, needing to get through to him. Your open hand on his chest closes into a tightly clenched fist. 

“My…brother. You mean more to me than anything.”

For a long time you hadn’t felt like Caleb was your brother. You don’t really know if you’d ever felt like he was. The only thing you were certain of was that Caleb had become the most precious person in your life. 

And you loved him. Was in love with him.

But it was too late to tell him that now. 

For now, you needed him to see reason. That the world he envisioned for the two of you was nothing more than a faraway dream, and dreams existed only in the whispers of the night. 

Caleb freezes, before biting out a bitter chuckle–halfway between a scoff and a sneer. The Colonel’s mask slips off, fluttering to the floor entirely. The wild look in his eyes is reminiscent of a caged beast that’d been whipped one too many times. 

“Hah–brother?” 

You struggle as Caleb pries your hand off his chest, not really knowing why you’re fighting him. It’s hard to think, with him so close to you, your resolve fading with each moment that passes. 

You vaguely hear the bowl of apples on the coffee table being knocked over, unceremoniously tumbling to the ground. Caleb hovers above you, his face darker than the torrent of storm clouds just outside the glass windows. 

“Y/N, your biggest mistake was believing that I could play the part of your perfect brother forever.”

You can’t tell if it’s the terrifying roar of thunder or his shocking confession that makes your heart pound so violently it hurts. Your fist quivers as you pull back, but Caleb only holds you tighter, unwilling to let you go.

The weight of his words crushes you–stealing your breath away, until there’s nothing left but the wreckage of your resolve. 

“Day after day, I’ve endured. I’ve held myself back. But now…”

His voice is so low that you can barely hear him over the clap of thunder, gravelly with a hungry desperation that makes your toes curl against the carpet.  

“I’m done playing pretend.”

The lightning outside flashes, illuminating his shadowed eyes revealing the depth of his turmoil. Without the carefully knit Farspace Colonel’s mask he always wore, Caleb was an open book, wearing his heart so openly on his sleeve that you could see every twisted thought.

Temptation, desperation, yearning, guilt, sin. All that he had shouldered and endured alone, donning the role of the supposed “older brother” like a shield, unwilling to risk losing the most precious thing in the world to him.

You.

And after weeks of seeing nothing but the cold, faraway, unforgiving Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, you were drawn to this Caleb like a moth to a flame.

Illogically, irrevocably, and so deeply that it hurts you. 

Caleb swears under his breath, shaking his head as if trying to snap out of a daze. His grip on your wrists loosens, but he doesn’t let go. His words come out in a forced choke, almost as pained as his anguished stare. 

“Don’t. Don’t look at me like that unless you’re willing to admit you’re done playing this game too.”

You can hear the blood pounding in your ears, your face no doubt as red as the apples that had tumbled to the ground. Your thoughts race a mile a minute, trying to reconcile what you’d always felt for him, telling yourself you shouldn’t, with what he was confessing to you now. 

What if you were never part of the game to begin with?

“Like what?! I’m not doing anything!” is all you can find yourself saying, almost petulantly, deflecting from what’s threatening to spill over. His skin felt impossibly hot against yours, his fingers nearly branding your wrists, reminding you just how much you’d come to feel for him. 

Reminding you of exactly who your heart was so violently pounding for in this exact moment.

Caleb shakes his head, a dark breathy chuckle escaping his lips as he releases your hands from above your head, instead gripping the couch behind you, boxing you in again. The storm outside fades away, until it’s only him, looking at you with an entire universe’s worth of longing reflected in those lavender halos.

His hand lifts to your cheek, hesitating before he uses the knuckles of his fingers to wipe your tears away, stroking along your jaw. It’s impossibly innocent, and yet you find your thighs clenching against him.

“Tell me I’m insane.”

You blink up at him trying to process what he was asking of you, the same exact things you had been telling yourself for…years. 

“Tell me…it’s all in my head.”

Caleb’s voice is nothing more than a desperate whisper, pleading with you to tell him what he needs to hear. Yes…or no. Whatever it is, he just can’t play this game anymore.

“Tell me you don’t feel…this.”

His long fingers slowly, tentatively, thread into your hair, his thumb stroking your jaw as he gently grasps your face, tilting you closer to him. Your eyes flicker to his parted lips that are so close you could just inch forward and taste them.

You definitely felt it.

“I-I don’t. Caleb…we can’t do this.”

You lie through your teeth, still holding onto the last fray of restraint you had left. The last, dying, part of you that wanted to keep the memory of you and Caleb exactly how it was. In a beautiful crystal box, that you could cherish and protect forever. 

Unchanging, undamaged, untouched.

Perhaps…that’s what Caleb thought he was doing when he kept you here in his glass home. Keeping you alive. 

“Didn’t I say I could always tell when you’re lying, pip-squeak?” 

His amethyst eyes are hooded with a deep swirling caution, warning you. That he can see right through you–he’s always been able to. And he’s never taken well to you keeping things from him. 

You try to bite back the visceral shiver at that sweet little pet name he so effortlessly called you, even when he was looking at you like a lion would a sheep. 

Caleb lowers himself so he’s kneeling before you, his knees pressing into the edge of the couch between your legs. 

“You’re trying to preserve a fantasy–a dream. But I’m right here, in front of you,” he urges, his voice broken and raw. Taking your hand, he presses your palm to his chest–his heart. Even through his shirt, you can feel the ridges of his muscles heaving with the weight of his heavy heart beats.

“Caleb…” you murmur, halfway between a warning and a plea. The feeling of his heart beneath your palm blurs the line between reason and desire. 

Caleb shuts his eyes, drawing a deep and shaky breath.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he growls, his fingers digging into the expensive leather of the couch, so forcefully that it threatens to rip.

“Don’t say my name like I’m already gone. I’m right here.” 

The vulnerable plea in his voice is so thick that you choke, tears welling in your eyes as you stare up at him, his eyes reflecting the same Caleb who used to point out planes as they flew by in the sky, promising you the world. 

Maybe you were the one who’d imprisoned him.

Trying desperately to hold onto the Caleb you knew. Blind to the fact that he was right in front of you, even if he’d shed the feathers you once knew. Forcing him into the tiny suffocating cage of what you wanted. 

He was right here. The Caleb who wore your hair ties on his wrist, the same one who dried your wet hair, who always looked for your face in every crowd.

The same Caleb who always did anything and everything to protect you, ever since he held your hand for the first time. 

And you’d punished him for it.

Your hands come up to hold his face in your palms, holding his gaze with unyielding regret. Caleb’s breath audibly catches at your touch, his face instinctively nuzzling into your palms, eyes shutting in a brief second of respite. 

“I…” you start, trying to find the words. But they escape you, stuck in your throat, where your heart clenches with repentance. Caleb is incredibly patient, stroking circles into the back of your head, not pushing you. 

You try again, “I’m…” You curse yourself inwardly, eyes prickling. 

Why couldn’t you just fucking say it? 

You were the coward, after all. 

Caleb’s thumb brushes against the corner of your mouth, careful not to stroke your bottom lip like he so desperately wanted to. His other hand clenches into a tight fist that trembles with the weight of his restraint. 

He gives you that half smile that’s so effortlessly Caleb that what’s left of your resolve snaps. 

“You don’t have to say it,” he reassures, almost dejectedly, his beautiful bright violet eyes falling, dimming like a burnt out bulb, “It’s okay.”

Even when he’s falling apart at the seams, his first instinct is to protect you. 

His breathing is heavy, lips parted, as his eyes flicker to your lips. The longing is so evident in those amethyst irises, but the light fades with every second that passes. Fighting with every instinct in his body, his thumb brushes along your jaw one last time before he releases your face, getting onto his feet.

“Just…have dinner with me before I go–please.”

Your eyes widen, heart pounding painfully as you watch him back away from you. 

No. 

You were done living in this fantasy you’d built. The dreamland you’d woven for Caleb and yourself. It was just as much of a prison as the one he’d put you in. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you reach out to grab his wrist and yank him back. Taken utterly by surprise, Caleb falls back toward you with little resistance. Almost falling into your lap, his hands shoot out to the couch behind your head to steady himself, his forehead nearly pressed into yours.

“What are you–”

Before your courage fades, you thread your fingers on either side of his face into his soft hair. You lean in the rest of the way, resting your forehead on his, his bangs prickling your skin. Your breaths mingle, his lips so close you could almost feel them–how soft they’d feel against your own.

Do. Don’t think.

You push your lips to his, swallowing his subtle gasp of surprise, pulling him as close as he can possibly get with his knees pressed up against the seat of the couch.

Caleb hesitates, his hands remaining respectfully by your head, his lips still.

But that lasts for less than a fraction of a second before his hands are gripping the back of your head, fingers tangled aggressively in your hair, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, groaning unabashedly into you.

Caleb’s lips are soft, slotting perfectly against yours like two broken pieces of glass. His teeth gently graze against your lip, begging for more. He’s the perfect balance of hungry and tender, demanding and delicate. 

You can tell he’s holding back, adorably so–not wanting to cross any boundaries unless you haul him over those lines. Despite that, he can’t help but cup the back of your head possessively, pulling you impossibly closer against his torrid lips.

Finally giving into what you’ve dreamt of for years possesses you with a boldness you’ve never experienced. It isn’t long before you’re teasing the seam of his lips with the tip of your tongue, wanting in.  

Caleb groans, one hand cautiously shifting to your hips. He hesitates, and you use your own palm to press him into your waist, begging him to hold you tighter. 

In one swift motion, he has your legs swung over his thighs, not going so far as to seat you on his lap. You sit on the cushion beside him, his arm cupped behind your back, the other holding your jaw. Your own hands are looped around his neck, inhaling his breath as your own, your tongue desperately tangled with his. 

To your dismay, Caleb pulls away, his fingers gently holding your chin. He pants, broad chest heaving with desire, tilting your face so that your eyes level with his.

“Tell me you want this.”

He fights with every instinct in his body that tells him to take your lips in his again. The way your beautiful eyes flutter at him, your lips perfectly parted so that he can feel your warmTH fan against him.

He’d spent his entire life forcing himself to look the other way–convincing himself that he should be the brother figure he thought you needed. Resolved his heart to still every time he saw those very fluttering eyes and intoxicating lips.

But now you were unraveling that very carefully crafted resolve, imploding it like a collapsing star. 

“I need to hear you say it, Y/N.”

You were a coward, but Caleb always made you brave.

Swinging your thigh over his lap, you straddle him, pressing him deeper into the couch. Caleb swears under his breath, his hands instinctively resting on your waist, locking your body against his. Holding his face in your hands, you bring him in so close his long eyelashes tickle your cheek. 

“I want this. I want you.” 

Caleb’s swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the intensity of his need, “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you saying that.”

He weaves his hand into the back of your head, pulling you to him, consuming your moans once more. His tongue claims every inch of you, causing your mind to go blank, throwing all prior restraint and reason out the window. 

Your body rolls instinctively against his lap, gasping when you feel something solid and thick right where your undoubtedly soaked panties press against Caleb’s lap.

His fingers tighten against your hips, threatening to leave fingertip shaped bruises, ripping his lips away with every ounce of self-control he has left.

“Y/N…this is your last chance to tell me to stop,” he rasps, eyes clouded over with a dark animalistic gleam. A desire that could only be born from years of pent up yearning and restraint.

“Once we start…I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop,” he murmurs, holding your cheek so adoringly. It’s clear that, while he’s giving you an out, he prays to the Gods that you won’t tell him to stop. 

With a pointed roll of your hips, earning you a delicious breathy moan from him, you grip the back of Caleb’s head, tugging on his hair. You pull his head against your chest, cradling him affectionately.

Caleb inhales a sharp breath at the sound of your pounding heart against his ear. How many times he’d stayed up, fraught with haunting nightmares, listening to this very sound, to your steady breathing, grounding him to this reality.

“I’m done playing pretend, Caleb.”

You can feel his entire body go rigid beneath you, his thick muscles tensing with heated desire. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip with reverence. 

“Then…let me show you what’s real.”

With very little effort, Caleb picks you up, gripping your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. You squeal, looping your arms around his neck, hanging on for dear life.

“A little warning next time would be nice,” you grumble as he walks you, presumably, to the bedroom he had given you. His bedroom.

Caleb chuckles, his frustratingly infectious laugh, pressing a wet kiss into your jaw, “You used to beg me to carry you like this all the time. Suddenly you don’t like it?”

Your cheeks heat up at the memories of all the times he’d carried you around when you feigned being too exhausted to move, “It’s different now.”

You find your back being pushed against the cold and hard surface of the bedroom door.

“You’re definitely right about that. Back then…I couldn’t do this.”

He presses his lips into the curve of your neck, biting down with just enough force to make you clench against his solid body, crying out in surprise. Your reaction elicits a deep and warm chuckle from him. He kicks open the room of the bedroom and sets you down gently on the plush of the mattress.

He keeps his fingers pressed firmly into your thigh, keeping it hooked against his waist. Your chest heaves with desire, looking up at him expectantly. He hovers just an inch above you, kneeling between your legs, elbow pressed into the bed beside your face, caging you in.

“You’re…” he rasps, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh. He trails off, at a loss for words as his eyes rake down your lips, to your wonderfully exposed neck, to the defined curves of your collar. He clenches his fist, trying to calm down and stop himself from absolutely devouring you.

Breathtakingly beautiful.

“I’m what?” you tease, biting your lip at the way his eyes travel down your body, like it was his first time seeing the sky. Your hand travels from his jaw to trickle down his pulse, fingers teasing the bare skin where his silver necklace normally sat, the dogtag forgotten somewhere on the living room couch.

He groans, knees buckling under your touch. You gasp when you feel his excitement against you, your body instinctively arching up to grind against him. The sensation feels so mind numbingly intense that you can’t help but let out a soft moan, your eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. 

Caleb hisses, his fingers digging in, almost painfully, to your thigh. His hips chase the feeling, bucking against you again, making both of you groan. He holds your jaw tenderly in one hand, forcing you to look at him, his voice rough with lust. 

“You’re a brat,” he murmurs, sinking down to your neck, “Gonna be the death of me.”

He trails a kiss of heated kisses down your pulse point, using his tongue to draw the most beautiful moans from your kiss-bitten lips. When he reaches your collar, he laughs into your burning skin.

“Nothing else to say, princess?”

You whine at his condescending tone, never a fan of losing to him. Mustering up your courage, you trail your hand lower until they tease the waistband of his pants. You don’t give him a chance to protest before you slip your fingers in, gasping when they meet the hot leaking tip of his cock. It’d hardened to the point that it could practically sit at his belly button, so you didn’t have to reach very deep for what you wanted. 

You revel in Caleb’s string of choked expletives, biting back the moan that threatens to escape your own lips when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, desperately trying to stave off the orgasm you’re already building in him. 

Years of yearning, restraint, and being completely and utterly uninterested in anyone that wasn’t you had truly eaten his stamina.

It only encourages you to wrap your fingers snugly around him, giving him just one single languid stroke. 

Caleb’s fingers find your wrist, closing tightly enough to stop your ministrations, a dangerous warning reflected in his eyes. You can see his pulse pound in his neck, his breath coming out heavy and forced.

“Let’s not forget who’s in charge here, hm?” he grits hoarsely, deceptively calm, trying his best to hide how completely unraveled you have him with your pretty little fingers wrapped around him. When he has you panting so divinely beneath him, like he’d dreamt of for years.

With your hand caught in his, your eyebrows furrow in challenge. Your free hand weaves into the back of his head, pulling him back down so you can press a teasing kiss into his neck. When he stiffens above you, you sink your teeth in, marking him as yours, which he’d always been. At his hiss of ecstasy, your hips buck up to drag against his bare erection, nearly able to feel how wet you’d gotten through your panties and through your jeans.

“Such a tease,” he grounds out, his purple eyes burning with a dangerous desire, “Who taught you to be such a brat? Cause I know it wasn’t me.”

Your eyes flare with indignation, despite how badly your body literally quivers for him

“Not a brat. You’ve just always been a sore loser,” you taunt, pressing another heated kiss into his pounding jugular, this time letting your tongue tease him.

With a feral growl, you find both of your hands pinned above your head with just one of Caleb’s bigger hands, his grip punishing and addicting. He pushes his cock right into your inner thighs, giving you a taste of what’s to come. 

“You’re going to regret that, baby.”

With his free hand, he undoes the buttons on your blouse, yanking it open. Your coat had long been forgotten, probably somewhere on the couch, leaving you completely naked before him. You hadn’t worn a bra since you’d been stuck inside for the last three days, and with Caleb being at the base most of the time, you didn’t see the point. 

You yelp as the cool air-conditioned breeze hits your bare nipples, not noticing the way Caleb’s eyes widen, his pupils dilating like he’d been concussed. 

“Why aren’t you…” he trails off, his eyes doing their damn best to stare into your eyes and not at the soft plush of your breasts. The way your beautiful skin leads up to your hardened nipples that are just begging to be tasted. He doesn’t finish his thought, swearing like a sailor. 

Caleb’s violet eyes search yours, pleading with you. 

“Tell me one more time.”

You trace his jaw with your fingertips, trying to ignore how painfully exposed you feel. His eyes flutter shut, his cheek nuzzling into your hand. Like a puppy.

But when his eyes open again, there’s a ravenous fire that reminds you more of a rabid wolf than a sweet little house pet. 

“Tell me you want this. Because...” he pauses, his fingers tracing down your collar, stopping right before the swell of your chest.

“I can’t go back to playing house. I can’t go back to pretending to be your big brother. Not when I’ve tasted you.”

Your heart flutters, core tightening, at his simultaneously sweet and filthy words. Gently wriggling one hand free, you grab his finger that rests on your collar, guiding his hand down. Caleb’s breathing grows incredibly heavy and off-beat as he watches you lead his hand to cup your breast.

You bring his face to yours, whispering, “Caleb…”

“Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

Caleb’s eyes widen noticeably, cursing, “God you–you’re so fucking beautiful. Especially when you say my name like that. You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

With one hand still pinned above you, the other holding his hand to your chest, you crane your neck up, pressing your forehead to his.

“Show me, Caleb.”

At the sound of his name rolling off your perfect tongue yet again, Caleb snaps. Gone was the chivalrous restraint he’d been hell bent on exhibiting. 

He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip before pulling your chin to his, consuming you in a mind numbing kiss. You’re so distracted by his tongue against yours that you don’t notice when his fingers close around your nipple, rolling it torturously. 

You tear your lips away with a moan, your back arching into him. 

Caleb chuckles, between trailing kisses down to your chest, “Needy little thing, huh?”

You’re about to snark back at him until he takes one of your nipples into his lips, letting his tongue circle it tenderly. You bite your lip to stop the embarrassing sounds that threaten to escape, the warmth of his mouth driving you to insanity.

Caleb snakes one hand to your lip, gently unfurling it from your teeth. He’s still attentively devouring you when he forces himself to tear away for one second.

“Don’t you dare hide those pretty sounds from me,” his voice is commanding, every bit of the Farspace Colonel you’d come to know. Except this time, the Colonel makes you shiver with desire and not fear.

His thumb presses deeper, teasing your tongue. Growing impatient with how you hold back your cries, he sinks his teeth into your hardened nipple.

“Nngh–Caleb!” you all but scream. You can feel him smiling against your chest before he alternates to the other, drunk on the noises you cry for him. The taste of your skin on his tongue.

“You always were so good for me.”

With his lips latched onto you, he uses his free hand to unbutton your pants, tugging them down until you’re in nothing but your soaked panties. His fingers trickle down, teasing the waistband. Before he goes further, he grips your chin, bringing your hazy eyes to his.

“More?” he murmurs tenderly, trying to get a temperature check on how you feel. He’d be damned if he ever made you unhappy again.

You sit up on your elbows, peering down at him. He’s flushed from his cheeks to the tip of his ears, his lips shiny with saliva. You let yourself revel in how devastatingly handsome he is, a sinful thought you’d denied yourself many times before.

God, you needed him so fucking badly.

Desperate to make up for years of lost kisses, you pull him in for another. When you finally pull away, you press his forehead against yours, your breath uneven, noses touching.

“More. Please.”

Caleb grins, “That’s my girl.”

Pushing you back against the bed, he sucks a trail of hickeys from your neck, to your breasts, down to your stomach. 

In between his kisses, he murmurs, “Let me worship you like I’ve always wanted to.” You whine when he gets to your legs, sucking a bruise into your inner thigh. Your instinct is to pull away, acutely aware of how close he was to your soaking panties.

But Caleb’s fingers dig into the plush of your hips, effectively locking you against his desperate breath and wild eyes. He continues his relentless attack on your quivering thighs, purposely letting his nose brush against your panties, using his fingers to tease them to the side, letting his warm breath caress your most sensitive parts.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Caleb growls, almost in awe, “God, you spoil me.” He’s so close that he can smell you, his mouth literally watering in anticipation.  

You whine, at your wit’s end, “Caleb, don’t tease.” 

“Always so impatient,” he chuckles with a crooked grin, “I didn’t hold myself back for nearly a decade just to rush this.”

You groan in frustration, tears nearly forming in your eyes from the pure desperation, “You’re such a–hnngh!”

You cut yourself off with a breathy cry, more of a screech, when Caleb presses his tongue into the soaked fabric of your panties, nearly wedging himself into your leaking lips. 

He groans as he tastes you. Even through the fabric you taste like a fucking drug. If heaven had a taste…this would be it. 

“I’m such a what, princess?” Caleb chuckles breathlessly into your pussy, using your same teasing taunt from earlier. 

You’re about to reach over to smack him when Caleb finds your clit, even through the underwear, his lips sucking obsessively. Your hips buck up into his mouth, back arching off the bed, only to have Caleb press his big hand into your stomach, pushing you back down. 

“Dreamt about this, you know?” he grunts into you, practically taking a deep inhale of your intoxicating pheromones, his nose pressed into your underwear, as his tongue works you into a frenzy. He renders you unable to speak, even though you want to beg him to move your panties to the side.

He licks another stripe, this time between your lips and all the way until the tip of his tongue strokes your clit, making you squeal.

“Dreamt of how you’d smell.” He can’t help but breathe in a shaky breath, intoxicated by you, drunk off your scent. 

“Dreamt of how you’d taste.” He finally tugs your panties down your thighs, nearly cumming right then and there at the sight of your naked core, glistening for him. Like a hormonal teenage boy. 

“Hah–Caleb!” you’re cut off when his lips latch onto your bare clit, suckling gently as his fingers start to tease your folds, gathering up your copious slick with his fingertips and smearing it around.

“Dreamt of how you’d call my name. Just like that, babygirl.” He continues to devour you like a five course meal, better than any recipe he’d ever perfected. You tasted so divine on his tongue, he feared he’d never come back from this. Never be able to be without you. Always wanting to dive in between your legs, devour you until the only thing that dared leave your lips was his name. 

“God you taste…” he can’t even complete his thought before his tongue is wedged between your slit again, lapping you up greedily. You’re too lost in your own pleasure to tease him, your eyes fluttering backwards.

“Can you take a finger, princess?” he groans shakily, practically begging. His breath is hot on your sensitive core, making you tremble. 

“Y-Yes–mmf–please,” you huff, fingers carding through his hair as he nuzzles happily between your thighs. Like a bear with a honeypot. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathes against you before slipping one finger into you. You gasp, the sting from just one digit taking you by surprise–thicker and longer than your own. But it doesn’t necessarily hurt. 

Caleb bites the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on licking up the honey between your legs and not how unbelievably tight you are around just one finger. His cock leaks with the urgent need to feel you, and with how beautifully you’re unraveling for him, he has to fight from cumming untouched.

“You’re so…tight,” Caleb groans, almost in awe. He only had one finger in you. And you felt like that. You can only respond in a string of strangled moans, completely lost in the sensations that ripple through every nerve ending.

“Sh-shit,” he mutters, imagining what you’d feel like wrapped around his length as you clenched against his one finger. You were dangerous.

“Gonna need to stretch you out. Can you take another, sweet girl?”

You nod, not really knowing what he’s saying–too lost in this whole new world of ecstasy Caleb is introducing to you. But you trusted him with your entire life. 

Gently, Caleb adds another one of his lengthy fingers. You wince at the stretch, the pain ebbing over the pleasure, causing tears to spring to your eyes. Caleb instantly stills, suddenly hovering above you, his fingers still deep inside you. His purple eyes are crinkled in concern, his free hand brushing the stray strands of hair off your cheek. 

“Hey,” he murmurs tenderly, his thumb catching stray tears, “You with me?”

You writhe, still adjusting to the stretch of his second finger, the pain dulling slowly. His still fingers start to feel unnatural, the need for friction growing with every passing second. 

“I’m–angh–I’m good,” you pant, “C-Caleb–please. Move.”

Caleb nearly chokes, his cock lurching at your tearful and needy plea. He slowly starts to move his fingers in and out of you again with the utmost gentleness.

“You’re doing so good for me, Y/N,” he pants, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay, “So wet and–hah fuck–warm.”

You whine at his praises, your gut knotting in excitement, the sensation returning back to a tingling pleasure. 

Caleb gently scissors his two fingers, pressing his tongue against your core once more, desperate for another taste. 

“I can feel you squeezing my fingers,” he rasps in between sucking at your sensitive bud, “Feel good, princess? You like it when I praise you?”

You whine, nodding as best as you can, too far gone to feel ashamed. Your heart squeezes when you suddenly wonder just how Caleb had become so skilled with his fingers, with his tongue. 

But you’re pulled out of those thoughts when the man in question starts flicking his tongue with renewed vigor and passion. An overwhelming pressure builds in your gut that makes you writhe with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Caleb presses you back down, flat against the bed, “Tell me, baby. Let me hear you.” He jerks his fingers, simultaneously flicking his tongue against your clit. His hips buck repeatedly, groaning into your core as he fucks into the mattress.

The lewd sounds of his fingers inside you makes your cheeks burn with want. The vibrations that roll off his tongue and straight into you send you reeling.

“C-Caleb, it feels–I-I can’t..take much more,” you squeal, feeling like your abdomen is going to burst. You almost want to shove him off, overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. Yet you can’t get enough of his hand, his mouth, on you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against you, fingers still inside you, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

Your breathing grows erratic, reduced to nothing but cries and moans, as he quickens his pace, curling his fingers to a hypersensitive part inside you. Your eyes go wide as the tension in your belly combusts, pleasure searing through your entire body like a wildfire.

Your fingers dig into the comforter, your back arching off the mattress. Caleb groans as he listens to your unabashed cries, his name on your tongue like a prayer. 

“Angh–Caleb! Oh God,” you whimper as he continues to devour you, even when you’re gushing. If it didn’t feel so mind blowing you’d be embarrassed that you were dripping quite literally on his face. 

“Fuck–dreamt of how you’d fall apart for me, just like this. But you’re…so much fucking better than my silly little fantasies.”

His fingers start to slow as your body trembles with overstimulation. You watch as he withdraws them, entranced by how they glisten and drip with you. With how exquisite you taste, intensified by just how many times he’d fantasized about this very scenario, he can’t help but lick his fingers absolutely clean. 

You shakily sit up on your elbows, a mix of mortified and turned on watching him drunk off your slick. Your chest and gut both flutter, your teeth clamping down on your lip.

You wanted to taste him too. 

Standing on your knees with him, you wrap your arms around his neck, taking him by surprise as you press your lips to his. His grunt is swallowed by your eager tongue, the taste of yourself confusingly arousing as you kiss him fervently. 

His hands hold your waist tight against him as he kisses you passionately, reverently. You can feel his massive erection against your stomach, his skin soft and burning against yours. It leaks profusely, smearing against your naval. 

Eagerly, breaking away for only seconds, you lift Caleb’s shirt up, scrambling to get it off of him, wanting him to be as exposed as you. 

While you have him off guard, you weave one of your hands with his, clasping your palms together. Resonance always came effortlessly to Caleb and you–as natural as breathing. Using your Evol, you manipulate Caleb’s gravity Evol, flipping him beneath you and onto the bed. Your tongue is still tangled with his as you lay atop him, swallowing his chuckles. Your cheeks warm as you try and summon your most alluring self, pressing soft and heated kissing down his jaw, into his thrumming pulse, his thick shoulders.

“You’re so damn cheeky,” he groans, voice gravelly with pent up need, inexplicably turned on by the way you can control his Evol like second nature. His cock twitches as your lips make their way down his body, needing to be buried inside you more than ever. 

As you descend further, lips at his abdomen, your intent becomes clear to Caleb. And while the thought of your lips around his dick makes him twitch like a virgin, which he unabashedly was, his impatience to be inside you grows to a painful peak.

He sits up, his hands finding your chin and tilting you to look at him. His voice is ragged, barely holding back the animalistic desire he feels for you. 

“Hey, no. You don’t have to. Let me worship you today.”

He doesn’t mention that the feeling of your lips on his burning skin, nearing his painfully hard erection has him just about ready to come undone. Untouched.

You roll your eyes, shoving him back down. You don’t push very hard but he lets himself fall back, weak to your every want and whim. 

“Haven’t you always wanted this, gege?” you grin teasingly, unsure where your confidence comes from. Your lips brush against the veins on his pelvis that lead to his very excited member. He jerks involuntarily, cursing under his breath–the familiar pet name now carrying an entirely new meaning.

“Sweethe–fuck,” Caleb chokes as your lips find their way around his thick leaking tip, deliberating shutting him up. 

You do your best to pull your teeth back, not having much experience doing this, especially not with one so…big. 

But big was an understatement. Caleb was…massive. He had girth as well as length, two prominent veins painted across the pink skin, standing incredibly tall against his abdomen. 

Maybe you should be scared–terrified, of how that would fit inside you later. But it only makes you want to please him more.   

Caleb’s fingers unconsciously find their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently. He does his best to stop himself from thrusting up into your impossibly tight throat.

“Hah–s’fucking…” he groans, voice haggard and forced as if he can’t breathe, “God, always knew that pretty little mouth would be perfect.”

His words encourage you to dare further, your tongue flicking against his leaking head, lapping up the leaking beads of his arousal. It’s surprisingly sweet, tinged with saltiness, no doubt from his addiction to apples, which makes it easier for you to take him deeper.

Caleb’s hips thrust up gently, his inexperienced excitement nearly controlling him completely. You relish in the way he almost uses your throat for his pleasure, slightly ashamed to think about how many times you’d imagined Caleb using you roughly.

Your thighs clench at the thought, a throaty moan escaping. Caleb’s hips stutter as the deep vibrations of your cry push him closer to painting your mouth milky white.

His voice comes out hoarse, almost harsh, “That’s enough, sweetheart. Come here.” He gently lifts your chin, his impossibly thick cock still buried down your tight throat. 

You whine, not stopping, wanting him to come as undone as he had rendered you. Your whine only sends Caleb closer to the edge with a strangled hiss.

You feel the familiar feeling of his Evol wrapping around you, lifting you off, and throwing you under him. You roll your eyes as he hovers above you, his eyes level with yours. 

“Always throwing me around with your Evol,” you grumble as if you hadn’t done the same thing moments ago. 

Caleb grins, the entire room nearly lighting up with his handsome smile. His fingers trace down your lip to your throat, his hand wrapping around it gently. 

“Would you rather I throw you around myself? That can be arranged.”

Your breath hitches as he pulls his pants the rest of the way down, giving you a brief reprieve to really admire his naked body. Caleb had always been well built, even in high school. But now, as he hovered above you, you were painfully reminded of just how much Caleb had grown up.

There was a reason Caleb attracted women left and right all throughout your lives. It literally got so excessive to the point he’d ask you to show up to campus and pretend to be his girlfriend to stop the countless advances. But now, after the explosion, after assuming the position of Colonel of the Farspace Fleet…

He was unreal.

Caleb chuckles, a teasing glint in his violet eyes as he grazes his thumb against the corner of your mouth, “Careful pip-squeak, any longer and you might start drooling.”

When you only respond with a silent glare and a gentle punch to his chest, his very muscled chest, Caleb grins and presses a tender kiss to your pouting lips.

“Later, we will discuss why you’re so good at that. For now…” he trails off hoarsely, entirely serious, despite his teasing tone. 

“For now let me show you what you’ve done to me, hm? How utterly you have destroyed me for anyone else.”

Your heart flutters at his words, throat prickly with emotions. Was it really possible that the two of you had felt the same way about each other for nearly your entire lives, both unwilling to speak up?

“How many times I told myself I was crazy, that I was just supposed to be your gege.”

He takes the base of his thick erection into his hand.

“How I had to physically remove myself from the house when you’d wear those god-forsaken shorts.”

He drags himself up and down your leaking core, gathering up your arousal and lathering it against his burning cock. God you were so unbearably wet he had to fight from diving back face first in between your legs.

“How painfully I’d ache when you curled up next to me, claiming to be scared of the thunder.”

He intentionally presses his tip harshly into your clit, making your eyes roll and your hips buck, a strangled moan of his name escaping your lips.

His voice grows strained as he lines himself up with your entrance. While you were anxious of what you knew was coming, your body craves him like no other, your hips instinctively grinding, as if to impale yourself on him. 

“How completely you own my heart.”

Caleb captures your lips in a searing kiss, eagerly consuming your cries of satisfaction as he gently rubs his engorged head against your unbearably tight heat. The anticipation eats at you, but you find yourself pulling your lips away. 

“I-I’ve never…” you murmur shyly, trailing off, hoping he gets the message without needing you to spell it out. You grip the sheets nervously, your knuckles white.

Caleb’s eyes snap to yours, so quickly his neck nearly cricks. There’s an unprecedented swirling fire in his irises. He hisses, a string of curses that you can’t quite make out, the hand holding the base of his cock shaking.

“You can’t just…You’re trying to kill me aren’t you, pip-squeak?” he growls, restraint hanging on by the thinnest of threads. He buries his face into your neck, taking deep breaths of your intoxicating scent.

“Is that bad?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder, holding your face in his hands, letting his erection rub freely against your slicked pussy.

“No. No. But you’re making it impossible not to…” he groans, slamming his palm down onto the bed.

He sits up, taking your jaw into his hands, cupping your face with all the adoration in this world and the next. 

“I haven't either. I’ve only ever wanted you. In high school, at the Academy…In this life, and every life after.”

“Ever since you held my hand for the first time, I’ve been yours.”

His words are so utterly devastating–sincere and painfully raw. It makes your chest constrict, your breath choked off. You find yourself rendered speechless again, despite how many confessions of your own were swirling in your mind, threatening to burst. 

Instead, you pull him towards your lips, only able to convey the depth of your own devotion with your actions. Caleb grunts into you, relenting as you demand entrance to his mouth. You lose yourself in him, guiding him to reposition himself at your entrance. 

Caleb nips at your bottom lip, his painfully hard dick in his hands once more, pressing gently into you.

You rip your mouth away in a pained squeal as he enters you, stretching you in ways you’d never fathomed. You’re so lost in the sting you don’t even notice the way Caleb’s knees buckle, his palm shooting out to catch himself before he falls on top of you, a string of hoarse expletives escapes him.

Caleb’s fingers gently brush away the hair that's fallen onto your face, the graze of his soft skin momentarily distracting you from the burning ache. His touch is so unbearably tender, it completely masks the way he’s falling apart at the seams, fighting his body’s instinct to explode white and hot inside of you.

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting from your jaw into your neck, “You’re so perfect for me. Can you take a little bit more?”

The muscles of your thighs quiver violently at the strain of your body trying to accommodate his stupidly large dick. And while it burns like nothing you’ve ever felt before, you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. 

In the mush that he’s rendered your brain, you can vaguely hear yourself babbling, “C-Caleb–nngh–I-I can take more. Always wanted you–ngah–s’bad.”

Caleb’s amethyst eyes blacken, his jaw tightening sharply. 

“Y/N…you can’t just say things like that–say my name like that and expect me to–hah–keep it together,” he rasps, the thin thread of restraint, on the verge of snapping.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the tears spilling from the corner of your eyes. Your fingernails dig into the thick ropes of muscles in his shoulders, pulling him closer. The sting makes his teeth clench, inadvertently sinking another inch into you. 

“Mnngh–need you Caleb, I’ve always n-needed you,” you whimper, lips against his ear. Caleb stiffens.

“Fuck–okay baby. I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything.”

You look down as he sinks yet another inch into you, his vein throbbing as it tries to nestle into you. Even through the searing stretch, you’re mesmerized by just how big he is, and how he’s fitting himself so perfectly inside you. The muscles of Caleb’s abdomen tremble with restraint, doing his best to keep from pounding into you.

Caleb kisses your cheek, softly licking up your stray tears.

“G-God the real thing is so much better than anything I could’ve ever dreamt up,” he grunts, squeezing your hips tenderly as he tries to bottom out, “Wanted this–wanted you for so damn long.”

The initial pain had ebbed into a dull ache that was quickly bleeding into the same ecstasy he’d just given you with his tongue. 

“Ngah–wanted you since I can remember Caleb,” you confess brokenly, thick with the release of imprisoned emotions. You do your best to reach your shaky hand up to his perfect face, moving his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes. He leans into your touch on instinct, that boyish charm returning to his face as his eyes shut in pure adoration.

“A-always…hah–have. So badly.”

Caleb groans at the genuinity in your confession, his normally purple eyes blackened almost entirely.

“So–nngh–you feel so incredible. I shouldn’t have wasted so much fucking time,” he groans, thrusting the rest of the way, bottoming out in your perfect little cunt.

Your cries are half way between a squeal and a moan as you feel him hit your cervix, pain blending overwhelmingly with the vast sea of pleasure.

“Caleb, s’too big–it’s too much,” you wail, feeling nearly split in half as his cock throbs inside of you, pulsing with the primal need to mark you. You look down and nearly yelp when you see his massive erection buried between your thighs–it was far too massive.

“You can, baby. You can take it,” he groans, bucking his hips ever so slightly, desperate for the feeling of your heavenly walls wringing him.

“Be a good girl, yeah? For me?” Caleb murmurs, his teeth nipping at your pulse, which earns him a beautiful moan from you. Your stomach flutters at his deceptively innocent pleas, your deep-rooted desire to please him, your perfect gege, taking over. 

Your eyelids feel unbearably heavy as you stare into his heated irises, nodding eagerly.

Caleb exhales a shaky breath, bending down to press a burning kiss to your lips. You return it with equal fervor, whining when he pulls away, too quick for your liking.

He chuckles breathlessly, wiping the drool from your lip tenderly, “Say it, sweetheart. Need to hear you say it.” He punctuates his demand with the slightest shift of his hips, causing the thick head of his cock to brush against a particularly sensitive spot in you. 

“Oh god Caleb–! I can take it, I can take it, please!”

Caleb hisses as his hips start to move. He hikes your thigh up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him, caging him against you. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your rear, holding you impossibly closer to him as his pelvis snaps into your skin. The sound of wet skin colliding against each other rings loudly in your ear, lewd and filthy. 

His thrusts are erratic, trying to find a suitable rhythm without losing his mind and taking you like a rabid beast. His other hand kneads at your breast, fingers toying with your perfectly pebbled nipples. 

“Hah–taking me so well, always–nngh–knew you’d be absolutely perfect wrapped around me. Thought about it so many damn times.”

You bite your lip so hard you think you might draw blood, squeezing your eyes shut as his movements quickly blur the line between pleasure and pain. Your eyes flutter open when you feel Caleb’s thumb against your lip, prying your teeth away.

“Look at me Y/N. Let me see those beautiful eyes.”

Despite his rough movements, his eyes are jarringly tender, looking at you so adoringly–as if he wasn’t rutting into you like a madman.

You force your eyes open, blinking rapidly with the weight of the ecstasy raining down on your body. You briefly look down at where he’s connected to you, too fucked out to even notice the reddish-pink sheen coating Caleb’s member.

When your eyes flutter shut again, Caleb tsks, pressing his palm against the hypnotizing bulge against your stomach. Physically being able to see where he was buried so perfectly inside you drove him just to the edge of cumming, unable to stop himself from touching it. 

Your eyes widen, squealing as you feel your walls harshly clamping down on his cock, nestled right at your g-spot. Caleb himself falters at the sensation, growling as he twitches uncontrollably inside you. 

That was a mistake. You were already impossibly tight as it was, making you bare down on him only served to push him headfirst into the climax he’d been staving off.

“Baby,” he pants raggedly, “Nngh–shit–!” His hips stutter, knees buckling, burying himself into the curve of your neck. He bites down on your pulsing skin, forcing himself to pull out of your warm embrace, as he releases seemingly endless ropes of thick milky cum onto your beautiful stomach. 

You whine at the loss of him buried inside of you, your core fluttering around nothing. You prop your chin up, getting lost in the way he paints your stomach, fisting himself furiously through his climax. 

“Can’t control myself around you,” he grits through his orgasm, jaw slacking, “Not anymore.” Every defined muscle of his toned body quivers with the power of his orgasm.

Shivering at the sensation of his burning release splattering on your abdomen, you reach up to cup his face as he cums. Of course, he leans into your touch on instinct, the onslaught of emotions intensifying his climax.

Your body aches at the hollowness, but it quickly dissipates as you watch Caleb’s face, beads of sweat pebbling his skin, contorted in a pleasure so intense, a pleasure you’d given him. Squirming at the sight of him, still spurting cum, your fingers find your clit desperately.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you touch yourself to the image of him writhing above you. Not even a split second later, you feel the pull of gravity, your wrist being yanked away and pinned above your head. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You whine as Caleb presses back against you, his cock replacing where your fingers had just been, “Y-You already–You don’t have to force yourself Caleb. I can–”

Your words are caught in your throat when Caleb lines himself back up with you, smearing the combined arousal messily around, teasing you relentlessly. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m done with you,” he grins widely, using his clean hand to realign himself. You glance down and realize Caleb is still unbearably hard, even after the absurd amount he’d painted your stomach with.

He slips back into you, your eyes rolling back at the familiar stretch. Except it’s so much more intense this time, your body knowing just what Caleb could do to you, and craving it like nothing else. 

“Oh God just like that, Caleb–please!” you cry, pride gone with the wind, as he starts an earth-shattering rhythm, hips rolling into you with precision and purpose. 

Caleb curses, the oversensitivity heightening every sensation, every desperate thrust into your perfect angel cunt, “Tell me, princess. How do I make you feel?”

You try to force your mind to cooperate and find the words that you want to say, “Feels…feels so–mnngh–Caleb!”

You can vaguely hear him laughing warmly as your mind goes blank, the thick head of his leaking cock pounding into you ruthlessly. He’d practically mapped out every sensitive nook of your pussy and he fully intended on taking advantage.

He gently grabs your throat with his free hand, applying pressure with only his fingertips and not his palm. 

“Hm? Feels like what, sweetheart?” His thrusts slow to a tortuous pace, enough to have you squirming for more but not enough to push you over the edge of release. And he knows it.

“Caleb, don’t fucking tease me,” you whine breathlessly, “Hah–Pleease.” Your hips move against his pelvis, trying to chase the pleasure yourself. 

“Needy little brat,” he murmurs affectionately, “You know I can’t say no to you.”

With those words Caleb starts pounding into you with renewed vigor, hell-bent on making you cum just as hard as he just did. His fingers wedge between your joined bodies, easily finding your clit and rubbing just how he knows you like. The familiar tension in your gut builds at an alarming speed, your body desperate to release after being even slightly edged.

“In return, you can show me how much you’ve wanted this, hm?”

His knowing words, the underlying authority in them, make you whimper with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. The combination of his relentless touch, his filthy whisperings, 

Fuck, the Colonel of the Farspace Feet was your absolute undoing. 

Caleb’s own muscles tense as his sensitive cock, hardened beyond belief again, starts to twitch inside you once more. You’d literally just milked him dry and he still couldn’t get enough. He probably never would.

“Oh god, so c-close Caleb!”

“Yeah? Show me how much you’ve wanted me to fuck you senseless, baby.”

He punctuates his demand with a twitch of his fingers against your clit,  driving so deeply into you that you nearly choke. Your back arches so deeply it hurts, the cold feeling of his cum still painted across your stomach, a long forgotten sensation in the back of your mind. 

“How much you want to cum on your gege’s cock.”

Your body shudders as you come undone explosively against his violent thrusts. Your fingers dig into his biceps, making Caleb hiss with satisfaction, his eyes unable to tear away from your gorgeous face as you cum on him. 

“Oh god–please! Mnngh Caleb, c-cumming. Wan’ to cum for you s’bad! Don’t stop–please!” 

Caleb groans at your filthy words, his own hips stuttering as he fucks you through the endless waves of pleasure, feeling every contraction of your perfect little cunt. 

“Juuust like that, give it to me sweetheart.”

Your thighs tremble violently as he rocks you through the unprecedented pleasure. With your eyes rolled back, your tongue slightly lolled out, crying out for him repeatedly. Caleb can’t stop himself.

In your fucked out state, you can vaguely feel the caress of his gravity Evol, his hands still busy working at your clit and your breasts. It maneuvers your thighs so that they’re pressed firmly into your chest, nearly folding you in half. He uses his Evol to grab a pillow, throwing it under your lower back, completely changing the angle at which he ruts into you.

“C-Caleb–” you gasp, eyes wide as the pleasure turns sharp, “S’too much. Feels…”

Despite feeling unbearably sensitive, your eyes still flutter in bliss. You want to tell him to stop, but your body physically refuses, still curling up to meet his thrusts. At this new angle, your knees nearly on either side of your head, his cock practically buries itself into your throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he rambles, “I’m sorry.” But he doesn’t stop. “A little more, yeah? You can take a little bit more for me, right baby?” Just by his voice alone, you can tell he’s on the verge of another powerful orgasm. 

Something about the way his violet eyes bleed with desperation, with devotion. Your body finds its way inexplicably bending to his every will, readying itself to take more of him. Even through the sting of overstimulation, even through the ache of how deeply he has your body folded into a mating press.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his cum smearing messily across your stomach, you sit up to press your forehead against his, your hips screaming in protest as your body is bent even further. 

“Cum–mnngh–Cum inside me Caleb, want to feel you. Need you s’bad.”

Caleb’s eyes widen, his rough movements nearly stuttering to a complete stop.

“What? Don’t play with me right now, Y/N,” he seethes through grit teeth, willing his hips to stay still, “You can’t just–hah fuck–say that.”

Your eyes roll at Caleb’s slow and controlled thrusts, each one deeper and more punctuated than the last. You force your mind to cooperate, fingers weaving into his hair, “M’serious. Please Caleb, for me?”

Caleb swears, picking up his pace again, each thrust deliberately bruising past your g-spot, stretching you to your breaking point. 

“God, you know I can’t say no to you,” he growls, “You know how many times I’ve thought about filling you up?”

“You can say—nngh—no, you just don’t want to,” you playfully quip through your tear-blurred vision. Caleb’s jaw ticks at your blatant teasing. 

“The mouth on you…” he nearly murmurs, voice gruff and controlled, “Let’s give that filthy little tongue something else to do.” 

You let out a high pitched whine when Caleb thrusts harder. You feel him trail two fingers along your stomach, the moist sensation of him catching some of his cum making you convulse as you near another orgasm. 

When Caleb brings his right hand up to you, slick fingers brushing against your lips, you can’t even protest. Because you want it. But he absolutely did not need to know that. 

“Open,” he murmurs, clean thumb stroking your chin, two dripping fingers so close they almost graze your lips.

You want to curse your traitorously submissive body because your mouth parts on instinct, allowing Caleb to put two fingers into your mouth, pressing gently onto your tongue. 

The taste of his salty-sweet pearly essence renders you a submissive desperate mess, your hands coming to grasp his forearm as you clean his digits, peering at him through your eyelashes. 

He groans, a strangled curse on the tip of his tongue, as he watches you suck on his fingers. His pupils are blown, drinking in the sight of you, hips faltering, overwhelmed by how fucking beautifully you fall apart for him. How effortlessly you unravel him.

“Just like that, princess,” he coos, “God, it’s like you were–hah–created in a lab to drive me insane.”

You whine against his fingers, feeling an orgasm more violent than a hurricane brewing in your core. Your pelvis aches with the weight at which he fucks you into the mattress but all you can feel is him. And the otherworldly sensations he rains down upon you, your body’s pleasure already second nature to him. 

“Now be a good girl and cum again.” 

His skilled thrusts, his animalistic demand, his smoldering purple eyes that watch you with a terrifying blend of obsession and devotion–it’s all enough to send you plummeting towards your third climax of the night. 

In your nearly blacked out state, you don’t even remember that Caleb’s fingers are still toying with your tongue when you bite down to stay conscious amidst your explosive finish. He chokes, knees buckling, but doesn’t flinch–nor does he withdraw his hand. In fact, he only seems to fall deeper into the abyss that is you.

“Shit–shit, Y/N!” Caleb’s moans wash across your lips, his damp forehead against yours, letting you bite down on the fingers of his right hand. Reveling in the sensation of your teeth digging into his digits, your perfect gummy walls fluttering around him.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, the pain pushing him over the edge, “Take it all for me, yeah? You can do that for me right, baby?”

His words make your entire body tighten up even further, biting harder, squeezing tighter. The wet sounds of your arousal against his pelvis, pounding into your thighs, mixed with your screams of his name have him all but combusting, exploding white, hot, and plenty inside of you. 

“I can–I can!” you practically beg, drunk off the feeling of him exploding inside you, “W-Want it–want more.” His fingers fall from your lips as you speak–much to his dismay.

Caleb groans, unable to stop rutting inside of you at your heated pleas, using the frictionless thrusts to push his cum as deeply inside of you as he can. 

“There’s my perfect girl–nngh–take it all. Look at you, taking every last drop for me.”

Your hips ache in protest, but in your fucked out bliss you can’t find yourself saying anything but his name, repeatedly, tenderly, reverently. The feeling of him inside of you, the bulge of his cock visible on your naval, the warmth of his cum almost ebbing to even your fingers, his unbearably sweet and filthy words.

“Caa–leb,” you moan brokenly, the intense overstimulation clearing your hazy mind.

Caleb presses his lips to yours, still gently thrusting into you. You whine into his mouth as he pushes your thighs deeper into your chest.  

He kisses you absolutely breathless, a line of spit trailing from your lips to his as he pulls away.

“Yeah, princess?”

You desperately tap his broad chest, “Heaavy.”

Caleb chuckles, shifting his weight off of you, leaving his dick inside you still. You moan when you can finally put your legs down, every muscle in your body aching and trembling.

“Sorry pip-squeak, got carried away,” he murmurs tenderly, shifting all his weight onto his elbows, still hovering above you, cock still nestled inside you. 

You squeak when he twitches inside you, feeling incredibly sore.

“Caleb, if you don’t pull out of me right now…” you grumble with a playful glare, “Say goodbye to your penis.”

Caleb chuckles, forcing himself to pull out of you despite how his body aches to stay inside you. He groans as he slips out, a moan of your own escaping as you flutter emptily. 

“Always resorting to violence.”

You briefly peek at him, still kneeling between your legs. He’s still hard, faint streaks of pink mixed with both your essences. With his Evol, he catches a box of tissues in his hand, tenderly cleaning the mess between your legs, and then himself. You wince at the sight of blood on the tissues and look away.

You shut your eyes, enjoying the afterglow of each other’s last night together. You don’t see when Caleb grabs your used panties, wet with your arousal and his saliva, stuffing them into the side of the mattress. To retrieve later. 

Caleb flops down beside you. You’re about to lay your head on his chest when you feel him lifting you, with his arms this time and not his Evol.

“Hey!” you yelp, but he only gently places you on top of him, pressing your cheek into his chest, right where his heart thrums. Your previous resistance dissipates, as you hum happily, nuzzling into his embrace.

He laughs breathlessly, running his fingers through your hair gently.

“You’re like the stray cat that would show up at our door every morning. Hissing and swatting when we tried to pet her, purring and mewling when we gave her our breakfast scraps.”

You smack his chest lightly.

“Ow,” he chuckles lightheartedly, “Nevermind, at least that cat was nice sometimes.”

The silence washes over the pair of you. It’s comfortable and warm, but a heavy tension hangs in the air, both of you knowing the bubble will pop once the unspoken words are uttered.

“Caleb…” you start gently, but he squeezes you tighter against him.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, almost a plea, “Just…don’t say it. Not yet.”

Your heart clenches at his vulnerability, not knowing how to console him. You both know what’s coming. 

Pressing a tender kiss into his chest, you prop yourself up to look at him, his amethyst eyes bright under the soft ambient lighting. 

“I can’t stay in Skyhaven.”

You choose your words carefully, but Caleb and you both know what you’ve left unsaid. 

I can’t stay with you.

Caleb is silent, though his grip on you tightens imperceptibly, his heartbeat quickening alarmingly. 

“I know.”

His voice is small, arms holding you tighter. As if you might disappear right then and there. To him, you might as well be. 

“I know I can’t keep you here, even if it’s for your safety. No matter…how much I want to.” 

He strokes your naked back, trying to commit every ridge, every goosebump to memory, “I…I don’t know how to take care of you anymore.”

Your chest throbs inexplicably at his words. That’s what you’d wanted him to see all this time, isn’t it? That he’d stuffed you into a cage, plucking your feathers until you could no longer fly. 

“You could come back with me,” you say, “Linkon is your home too.” You're only half serious; you knew he couldn’t just leave the Fleet. 

Caleb smiles up at you, but it’s a haunted, bittersweet smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. In fact, his eyes are as hollow as you’ve ever seen them, almost staring right past you, into a blackhole behind you. 

“I can’t leave.” 

Those three simple words, raw and unfiltered–his soft and broken face, remind you of the Caleb you thought you had lost. The Caleb you were so desperately trying to get back. 

He really was right in front of you.

Like the sun finally coming out after a day of rain, it dawns on you that maybe Caleb had never been your captor–the one who locked you in a gilded prison and watched from outside as your wings fluttered into the golden bars. 

You realize that Caleb was a captive bird in that same cage, preening your ruffled, fraying feathers as you struggled, bound by the same fate that chained you.

Except Caleb’s wings were also clipped by the weight of your expectations, imprisoned by the image of him that you’d so desperately clung to. That you forced on him–punishing him when he didn’t fit the mold.

And while you were being set free, he’d stay locked inside that glass cage, watching you fly through the clouds.   

Watching the thunderstorm outside, you reminisce, “Do you remember that nest of baby birds in the big tree in front of the house?” 

Caleb is taken aback, but he nods, laughing softly, “Yeah. I remember we’d always worry when it rained if the fledglings would be okay.”

The rain patters against the massive windows, just like the days after the birds had hatched. 

“You’d always wonder…if the baby birds would fly off once the rainy season ended–going their separate ways. It always made you so sad.”

Caleb stops breathing for a second, unsure why you remember those musings from your childhood. He’d intended them to be inconsequential; he’d never expected you to hold onto them. He keeps his eyes on the unending crystal raindrops streaming down the windows. 

“Yeah. I’d always wonder if the birds would come back–after leaving the nest.” 

He briefly ponders if you were awake those nights–when he was awakened by nightmares and the only way he could breathe again was to sit by your head as you slept, weaving his fingers with yours. Watching those same baby birds from your window.

You look at him, your chin propped on his chest, leaning into his palm when it comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear. Your voice is tender and melancholic when you finally find the words, pressing a soft kiss to where his heart beats under yours. 

“Sometimes, they come back.”

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch1

"friends who have dinner once a week" - 2.5k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

next: ch2. "friends who reconnected and who certainly don't want to be more"

where you're left sitting alone at a restaurant and your best friend thinks it's funny to use ultraman-caused traffic jams as a reason for why he's late.

---

30 minutes. You told yourself 30 minutes.

30 minutes and then you’ll stand and leave because you have the dignity not to wait around.

Because you know that if he doesn’t show up by then, he won’t show up at all.

You are seated at the corner of a neighborhood restaurant. It is family-owned, with recipes that boast three-generation longevity, yet it still maintains a calm and quiet atmosphere at this hour in the evening. Just enough for a celebrity to blend in without risk of being hounded by overeager fans. You have carefully taken this into consideration when you selected the spot. When you had proposed the time and place to him, you particularly noted that he may like their famous yakisoba.

You wonder whether he places as much thought about you as you do with him.

“Hello, are you ready to order?” You are asked. You have only had a water and a side of popcorn karaage.

It’s time. Half an hour of sitting all alone in a booth too big for you was getting a little humiliating. You should stand and go.

“Yeah, I’ll have a platter of the signature yakisoba?”

Oh what the hell.

You gave a smile to the waiter.

“The solo serving?”

“Oh no, I really do mean the platter.” Your smile aches a bit as the waiter kindly reminds you it is good for two to three people. “Yes, I have company.”

And if said company does not show, you will have the noodles packed up and sent to his house. How sweet.

You slump in your seat as the waiter leaves. You’re trying your best to be understanding— you really are, but this is getting too much for you. Your eyes flicker towards the TV above the restaurant bar, playing the news of a Kaiju attack in Roppongi.

Maybe he got stuck due to the traffic? You soothe yourself as the screen shows Ultraman getting struck by the tail of the raging monster.

You scoff. No way. It’s too far from the Dome.

Everyone uses Ultraman as an excuse to be late to work. You will not put it past the amazing Ken Sato to do the same.

He stumbles into the restaurant half a serving of yakisoba later.

You pause mid-chew to watch how his eyes dart all around the restaurant, frantic and panicked. You glare at him even if he can’t see you. You did pick a booth that would be easy to hide in. It is working well in your favor as you see him hopelessly look for you. At least he has the decency to feel bad about arriving an hour and a half late.

He talks to the waiter, who starts guiding him towards your booth. You sit up straighter, ready to give him the coldest shoulder you could muster. Ready to tell him off for his perpetual tardiness. For wasting your time.

His eyes finally meet yours, and his posture fills with relief. “Hey!” He leaves the waiter behind as he jogs towards your table. Fuck.

“Took you long enough.” You do not know why you greet him so warmly as you stand up, and he leans in to give you a side hug before sliding into the booth with you.

“I was so scared for a minute that you already left.”

Your smile stretches a little tighter. “I was just waiting for your usual text saying you can’t make it. I guess I got a little worried since you didn’t send me anything this time, Ken.” You try to keep your voice even and pleasant, wrestling down any inner goblin that threatens to spill out what you truly feel.

“I am so sorry, it was a little traffic with the KDF and the Kaiju business. Got really distracted trying to dodge the debris on my bike.” He sounds genuinely apologetic. He always does.

“Did you see Ultraman?” You ask.

“Huh? What about him?” He has a little jump at the start.

“He fought the Kaiju?” You tilt your head. “In the middle of the streets.”

“Oh yeah, he did. Quite heroic I must say, from what I saw.”

You wish you could call him out for lying like that to your face, but you notice the rigidity of his shoulders and the forming bruise on his face. You decide to let it go. Again.

“Rough practice?” You say, sympathetic. He looks like a wreck. Maybe he just lied so I wouldn’t have to worry.

Ken makes an exaggerated stretch, his cocky attitude seemingly unbruised. “You could say that again. But don’t worry, I’m on top of my game.”

You remember the news coverage of the past few weeks saying that he is at an all-time low in his career. Every poorly timed dive into the dirt and rough swing of his bat have been televised for the nation to see. He notices the concern etched in a growing frown you couldn’t control.

Even if it has been a few months since he arrived in Japan, he knows you well enough to brace himself for your eventual comments about his deep-set eye bags. You don’t say anything.

“Yakisoba?” You push the platter towards him. “The noodles aren’t that warm anymore though.”

“I’ll be fine. Haven’t eaten all day so I just need something in my gut.” He waves off your comment as he begins feasting like a man starved. He groans, delighted with the savory sauce and chewy noodles. “Man, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Your chest puffs a bit at the compliment. You were about to reply when his watch beeps red. You glance down at the watch face as it says ‘CHECK-UP NOW’ at the front. “Am I keeping you from an appointment?”

He inhales two more mouthfuls before saying “Nah. Wanted to get here as soon as possible. I’ll get to it after we call it a night.”

“You’re keeping your doctor waiting?”

He snorts, holding his chopsticks in one hand and reaching for his water with the other. “She’ll manage. I want to be here with you.”

On any other day that would have warmed you up, but this time it left a sour taste on your mouth. “Really? I wouldn’t have been able to tell.” You say before you could stop yourself.

He pauses, before setting down his glass. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

You panic. You do not want it to come out like this. Avoiding eye contact, you fumble to find the right words. “I-It’s just…you’ve been leaving me hanging lately that it…yeah.” You finish lamely.

“Ah…” He looks like he got slapped across the face, cringing from the guilt. “I’m so sorry— I don’t mean to. You know how much you mean to me. You’ve been my only friend since I’ve moved back here.”

“Only?” You cannot believe it. It has been more than two decades since the two of you were sneaking around his father’s laboratory, trading baseball cards underneath a steel table as your parents discussed science and business. More than two decades of him in the States, where the only contact with each other is limited to video calls and your occasional family trips to Los Angeles (you do not count your impulsive flights).

He sucks in air through his teeth. “Hurts to admit it but yeah. I haven’t…vibed with anyone else lately. I’ve just been swamped with all this work and—“ he took a deep breath. “—At least I didn’t leave you hanging tonight?”

You bite your tongue. Not now. Don’t say anything now. He obviously has so much on his plate.

But can’t he understand that you are busy too?

“Yay…?” Fuck. Why do you sound like that?

He fully put down his chopsticks now. “You’re kind of off tonight.”

“Oh, I’m off?” You feigned ignorance.

“Yeah…you have a problem?” He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“I should be asking you,” You try to be sincere, because you are. You are worried about how hard he has been pushing himself lately. Instead, your words are stilted, defensive. “Well…You…”

“Me…?”

“I— I mean how has adjusting back home been?”

He seems uncomfortable when you say the word home . Ah. You slump back into your seat, cursing yourself for making this awkward.

“You don’t have to answer that I just…”

“Is this about my stats?” His words are sudden, cutting.

You blink, lost at the direction this conversation is suddenly going. “I’m sorry?”

“Because I’m well aware this is my weakest season and I don’t need a lecture from you right now about how it’s been going.” The yakisoba was growing cold on the table.

“Kenji you know I hate talking about business when it’s just the two of us. This isn’t about your play.”

“Oh so this meeting wasn’t about pulling my player sponsorship?” He barked sarcastically. “Because that’s just what I needed! On top of the threat from Coach to trade me to the Tigers. Me, Ken Sato. Traded!”

You throw your hand up, signaling a pause. “Woah slow down, I don’t know anything about that. You’re going to the Tigers?”

“No!” He snaps. “My coach just threatened me.”

“Why would he threaten you?”

“Because of my stats this season! God I thought you were paying attention.”

“I am! I have to because I have to monitor your progress.”

“So this is about your sponsorship.”

“It’s not about the sponsorship! I only wanted to see you!” Your heart is pounding. You forgot he can get mean. Really mean. You know he was like this but he was never like this with you. “Fuck, man, can’t we just be friends who meet up for dinner once a week?”

He senses his mistake, and tries to reel himself back in even if he already got himself worked up and overheated. “I just don’t need another thing on my plate right now. Hell, I didn’t feel like going tonight but I dragged myself out here for you.”

If he can be short-tempered, so can you. “Do you want a fucking medal?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If you don’t want to see me then I think we’re done here.” You grab your bag and stand up. “I paid for the meal already. Get it packed. It’s still good microwaved.”

“Where are you going? Sit down.” He begins standing up himself. “I didn’t mean it.”

The waiter stands awkwardly nearby, unsure about whether he should intervene. Both of them are drawing attention. Some other dining customers surreptitiously pull out their phones. That’s the baseball player right? Ken Sato. And that’s the scion of the—

He follows closely behind as you leave the restaurant. You see your bodyguards already preparing the car to leave, but before you can approach them he quickly grabs your wrist. “Wait. Please.”

Sighing, you turn around to face him.

“Can we talk?” He was careful with his words this time. “My bike is parked there. Can you at least hear me out before you go?”

“Kenji–”

“ Please .”

Something is different about him tonight. Or maybe it didn’t start tonight, but it has been like this ever since the season started. For a moment, you can place yourself in his shoes. You feel his constricted breaths, his fatigue. Something is wrong.

“Okay.” You signal to your guards to wait, before following him towards his bike.

The gravel crunches beneath you both. He leans against his bike as you stand in front of him, arms crossed.

He takes a breath, before saying a concise “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For talking to you like that.”

“I didn’t realize the famous Ken Sato apologized.”

He scowls. “Can you make this anymore difficult?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll ease up. Now what’s going on with you?”

He wrings his hands in the air before letting them fall to his sides. “I … A lot has been going on. I can’t explain everything but. I know that I’ve been messing up a lot lately and I really don’t want to mess this up too.”

“Kenji,” you say softly, taking a step forward. “You’re an ass but we’re still friends.”

He groaned. “God thank you—”

“Wait,” you cut him off. “I’m still…hurt.”

He stood up straight at your words.

You shrug. “I have also been really busy. It isn’t easy following in my dad’s shoes, running the family business. I’ve only been doing this for a few months and already I feel like I’m ready to quit.”

Ken laughs. “I understand that way more than you realize.” There is a hidden meaning behind his words that you’re not sure you can pinpoint at the moment.

“Despite all that, I also know that I want to reconnect with you. It’s been so long since we’ve been in the same location, and I knew it would be hard for you to adjust back to living here. I want you to feel like you can rely on me but now it feels like I’m only a second thought when I constantly put in the effort to put you as a priority.”

“You’re my oldest friend,” he admits. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that.”

“I know you didn’t and that’s the worst part.” You are somber.

“I can’t— I can’t put in the time to fix this now.” He is resigned, yet realistic about what he can offer at the moment. “But please give me time.”

You nod, bringing up a hand to rest on his arm. “Kenji, I’m not the type of person to abandon a friend when he’s obviously going through something. It hurts but I understand.”

The relief seems too much on his body that he takes a step forward and engulfs you. You hear your guards at a distance start to shuffle forward, but your hand signals for them to stand down before you return Ken’s shaky embrace. He is hunched over to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“If you need me, all you have to do is say so…” You murmur close to his ear. “I’ll give you the space you need, just don’t forget that I’m here for you.”

He seems to shake a bit more in your hold, almost as if he’s struggling not to cry. He doesn’t though, and he releases you from his arms. “I’ll call you?” His voice much smaller than normal.

“The famous Ken Sato? Calling me?”

He cracks a smile, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll email your secretary for your availability so that the next time we meet, I will be the one adjusting to you.”

Huh. “That’s…oddly considerate of you.”

“You act like I’m normally not.”

“...So you’ll send an email?” You quickly change the subject, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I am considerate!” He defends himself.

Both of you stand in the parking lot well longer than a few minutes. You have said your goodbyes at least three times by then, but it is natural after the tense moment in the restaurant to just take in each other’s presence. You wave him off as he finally got onto his bike, exchanging promises that you will give each other time to figure out whatever you both needed to figure out. You trace the red of his rearlight through the streets until it no longer could be seen.

[selkiechild4998]

✧°˖────———- ・・・・・ . ☽ ‧₊˚ ···╮

New Pack

[Ch 5 New Bat]

╰┈ ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ・・・・———-────°˖✧

This is the final Ch of New Bat! I loved getting to write this, and I look forward to my next little project!

TW- None

Genre- Fluff

Wordcount- 987 Words

AO3 Link- Here!

Ch1- Ch2- Ch3- Ch4- Ch5

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　⛧⃝　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

"Dewdrop!"

"What!"

"What's going on?"

Within seconds, Phantom was completely swarmed by his new pack from all sides.

"He's so small!" One ghoulette with whispy hair chirped out.

"I've never seen a ghoul with his color," the big earth ghoul commented, curiously sniffing at Phantom, "He smells weird too."

"I swear when Copia shows his face," Dew growled, hackles raised as smoke leaked from improperly healed gills along his neck and under his hoodie.

"What's Dew complaining about?" Another ghoulette asked, walking downstairs as she pushed her puffy, white, blue, and dark dry hair from her face. When her dark blue eyes landed on Phantom and the ghouls swarming him, she gasped, "Guys! Give the babe some space! You're smothering him!"

Hearing that, the ghouls finally stepped away from Phantom, the lanky quintessence ghoul shaking a bit as he brushed his messy hair out of his face, looking up at the ghoulette.

"Are you ok? I'm Cumulus," She introduced herself, smiling as she looked over Phantom. "Let me get a good look at you, honey," She chirped, circling Phantom and taking mental note of his measurements within her mind. "I might have to talk with Aether. I don't think his old uniform will fit you," She giggled.

"I get a uniform?" Phantom tilted his head to the side, and Cumulus nodded.

"Of course, silly! You can't tour without a uniform. But I can handle that later; let's get you settled in."

Phantom perked up, but before Cumulus could lead him upstairs, Dew stopped them.

"No, Cumulus, you can't be serious," He growled, moving to stand in the way of the stairwell.

"Yes, I am serious, Dewdrop," Cumulus frowned as she folded her arms across her chest.

Dew pinned his torn ear fins back, narrowing his eyes at Cumulus as Phantom curiously peeked at him from over the ghoulette's shoulder.

"Move Dewdrop," Cumulus commanded.

"No."

"Don't make me get Mountain."

"He won't move me."

"Yeah, I will, Firebug," Mountain confirmed from where he was back in the kitchen, making breakfast for everyone.

Dew narrowed his eyes at Mountain, mumbling a "Traitor."

"I'm not gonna ignore my mate's orders."

Dew huffed before looking back up at Cumulus, who had to bite back a small giggle as she raised an eyebrow at Dew.

"I'd move, Dewy," Cirrus giggled from her seat by Mountain, "You know Lus can rock you."

Grumbling softly, he backed down, his tail flicking back and forth like an angry cat as Cumulus led Phantom upstairs. Phantom glanced back at Dew, tilting his head to the side as the fire ghoul glared at him, huffing out a puff of smoke through his nose. The action was meant to intimidate the younger ghoul, but instead, it made Phantom's ears flick forward in fascination.

"Don't mind, Dew," Cumulus smiled as she looked back at Phantom, "He's always like that."

"He is?"

"Yeah, but he's a softy under all that anger," Cumulus smiled, "Now, let's get you a room. I think we have a room still available. If not, you can bunk with Cirrus, Mountain, and me."

Phantom nodded before tilting his head to the side, "All of you share a room?"

"Yep, mates can share rooms."

"But you said you're with Mountain?"

"Yes, and Cirrus is also my mate," Cumulus nodded before noticing the confused look on Phantom's face, "What is it, honey?"

"You can have more than one mate?" He asked in confusion.

"Yeah, ghouls can have multiple mates," Cumulus nodded, "You didn't know that?"

Phantom shook his head before meekly explaining, "I…well… I wasn't exactly raised by ghouls."

Cumulus nodded at that, "I had a guess. You do smell a bit off," She lightly teased, "But don't worry, honey. You should have seen Rain when we were chosen for the project."

Phantom smiled softly at that before perking up, seeing one unmarked room left, "Here we are. I knew we'd have one room left," Cumulus smiled.

Phantom was quick to open the door, his tail wagging back and forth as he looked around the dorm-like room. It reminded him of his old room.

"You get all set up, ok? I'll see if I can get you a new uniform," And with that, Phantom was left in his new room.

He didn't have much to move in, only really having his plush bat and a few outfits from his old room in General Quarters. When he heard a knock at his door, he expected to see Cumulus but was surprised to see both her and Aether.

"Nice to see you again, Phantom," Aether smiled, his tail wagging back and forth, "You're the talk around the Den."

"Oh quiet, you can't see the cutie," Cumulus playfully teased, lightly smacking Aether's side, who snickered with a sharp-toothed smile. "We got you your new uniform," Cumulus smiled as she held out the folded uniform in her arms.

"Thank you!" Phantom smiled, holding the uniform close in his excitement.

"Well, it's not a complete uniform," Aether mentioned, getting Phantom to tilt his head to the side as he looked up at him. Right when he looked up, Aether placed a slightly worn and slightly oversized Impera mask on his head, "Now it is,"

Phantom giggled as he adjusted the helmet, blinking as he looked up at Aether through the tinted lenses.

Cumulus giggled at how big the helmet looked on Phantom, "We'll adjust the lace later."

"Take good care of it, bug," Aether smiled, "Don't want to see my old helmet all scuffed like Swiss's."

"This is your helmet?" Phantom asked, his look of excitement turning to one of awe.

Aether nodded proudly, "Yep, but I figured I wouldn't need it much anymore. Besides, I still have my Prequella mask."

"I promise I'll take good care of it!" Phantom grinned and, while his wings remained tucked against his back, twitched with little flaps.

"I know you will, bug. Welcome to the pack."

[xiaokuer-schmetterling]

bonus materials for podfic# 49

aka top gun: wangxian 🫡🤣🎧🎙️😎💙🤩

y'all. Y'all. Y'ALL I MADE A FIC TRAILER / FANVID

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ch1

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tg soundtrack--take my breath away--inspiration for the fic title

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for the peeps coming over from mdzs/the untamed: here's why top gun is a gay movie

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and for the peeps coming over from top gun: here's a crack-ish intro to the untamed/cql (which is absolutely a gay drama)

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thrill of victory agony of defeat

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what i meant by: 90k tons of diplomacy

(it's a popular t-shirt slogan for sailors stationed on aircraft carriers lol 😅 to be clear. this is not the type of diplomacy that i endorse as an adult who has introspected on my experiences in the us navy and reflected on my actual opinion on the existence of military forces with the passage of time. however, when i was 18--fresh from my very 'traditional values' upbringing and history of family naval service, and there i was, autistic and imprinted on navy stuff, and i was desperate to belong anywhere, and yk, have food to eat and a place to sleep. all the reasons that teens join the military--i thought it was funny as shit)

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ch2

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tg soundtrack--danger zone

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lost that loving feeling--top gun 1986 bar scene

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lol i don't remember which ch i made this reference in:

'girl what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament'

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CH PLACEHOLDER

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placeholder

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(more fun links in the replies!)

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end post

[falling-star-cygnus]

went to post this chapter on ao3 first, like i usually do so i can link it here, AND THE SERVER WENT ON MAINTENCE 😭  -> HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE LAUGH LOVE IN THESE CONDITIONS!?

Kiss Sakura Day {ao3 fic link to ch2} Nirei, Suo, and Anzai have taken their respective turns… now it's time for Kiryu and Tsugeura to make a scene!!!

How will our poor captain cope with all this love?

+=+=+

Haruka didn't know how to feel about this.

'Kiss Sakura Day' what the hell was that supposed to mean? Weren't kisses something you just did with- with.. lovers? Or- hm.. maybe not...?

He thinks on it, on the scant few times he'd stayed at the park when he couldn't bring himself to crawl home. Sometimes, in the mornings, there were women- older sisters or mothers- that would give their little menace's a peck on the forehead. Or cheek.

Was that- what that was? A f-f-family.. thing?

Was it a friend thing?

It didn't feel like a friend thing.. not with those two.

But it's not like Haruka would know one way or the other, now would he? If he was forced to be honest with himself. He's never had either, nor anything more, before Makochi.

Something bites at the back of his mind, a willowy hand gently carding through the snowy strands of his left- soft notes of a song he hasn't been able to remember for years now.

And then- later on- a cackling admission of falling in love.

Haruka shoves those back in the box they sprung out of.

Unfortunately, something else- something more pressing- takes its place instead.

Soft lashes, unbearably undeniably soft eyelashes, fluttering against his neck and cheek.

Suo had been so close to his face that his nose had pressed gently into that space in front of Haruka's ear. His hand tucked right under Haruka's chin for no reason other than to touch.

Not to grab, or turn, or break skin, or bruise. Just... touch.

His next breath rattles out of his chest, shaky against his will.

Nirei had used Haruka's arm to tug himself closer, and his nose had pressed into the underside of his jaw.

Then they'd- they'd done something.. with their eyelashes. Just thinking about it makes his face heat up.

What the hell was that?

Surely that wasn't- a kiss, right? But then what was the point?

'Kiss Sakura Day'... mmhhgh.. Haruka brings his hand up to ruffle aggressively at his hair, until his scalp is stinging and his mind is a little clearer.

...maybe Kiryu would know how to make sense of this.

. . .

Okay.. he... may not have thought this plan all the way through.

BUT IN HIS DEFENSE- Kiryu was popular. With girls and boys, if Haruka remembered correctly. And he knew he did, because here he was now- out on patrol and attracting stares left and right.

It made him bristle at first, even though a part of himself he was still getting used to knew that they weren't anywhere near malicious.

Or leering.

Not anymore, not here. Not in Makochi.

No, they were simply.. appreciative.

And that made sense, because it was Kiryu and Kiryu was pretty, especially for a boy. With his soft pink hair and shiny piercings and comfortable presence.

He was strong too, dependable in a way that was only beaten by his vices.

It kinda felt... like a pillow. Like laying his head down in gentle grass and letting the sun sink into his bones.

Something tight unclenches in his chest as Haruka breathes out.

"Hey.. I got a question for you."

"Hm?" Kiryu turns to him immediately, his shiny green eyes lazy only in appearance- attentive in every way that mattered, "What's up, Sakura-chan?"

This was a bad idea.. how did he even- start to ask about this? How should he even phrase it!? Bad idea, bad idea-

badbadbadBAD run DON'T LOOK AT ME-

No. This was his friend.

He could meet him halfway. He would meet him halfway. But only.. only if he let him.

Okay.

"I- I... urgh.." Haruka dips his head, his hand aching to reach up and pull at his hair to settle his thoughts more completely, "D'you-"

Kiryu catches his wrist before the ache becomes a physical thing.

Silence reigns in the aftermath- a muzzle around both their jaws.

Then soft grass blinks, as if surprised by his own action, and he's met by an equally as stunned blink from gold and pond stone. Clearly, neither had really anticipated something like this as a possible outcome.

But- slowly- the pink haired boy lowers his capture and laces their fingers together, an easy smile lighting up his face instead.

"Your hair's too pretty to tug at. Why don't you just squeeze my hand instead?"

Too... pretty? His hair?

"Breathe, Sakura-chan." Kiryu coaxes, as he starts leading them along again.

Haruka hadn't even realized he'd stopped.

No one had ever called his hair pretty before. Or really- any of his features, except Kotoha. Did she count? Was 'marble' even a compliment? It certainly didn't feel like an insult, at least at the time, which... he hadn't known how to deal with.

But-!

...mn..

Well- regardless!

He focuses on the way Kiryu squeezes his hand in intervals, instead of dwelling on things that just put him back at square one.

His palm is soft. So soft actually that it makes Haruka's fingers twitch in what might be discomfort- or what might just be embarrassment from his own undoubtedly rough calluses.

The pink haired boy had a more evasive fighting style, sure, but he fought just as hard as the rest of them.. so how-?

"You were gonna ask me something, weren't you, Sakura-chan?"

Snapping back to the present, the grade captain twitches in acknowledgement. Yes- right.

That.

He was going to.. right.

No matter how embarrassing this entire... situation was, Haruka wasn't going to get any closer to understanding it if he didn't ask. Kaji's advice rings distantly in the back of his head- comforting- as he clears his throat.

"This whole- 'K-Kiss Day' thing," he starts, already feeling near painful heat rise in his cheeks, "...what's that about?"

Okay, so- he couldn't say the full name. Whatever.

He still asked. That's what counted.

Hopefully.

Unless.. unless no one else knew about it. What if had just been a one- er.. three off thing?

What if literally nobody else was told about this weird fuckass day and he'd just made an absolute idiot of himself in front of-

Kiryu hums at him, again sending his spiralling thoughts into disarray, as his cozy green eyes widened in both understanding and confusion, "Nire-chan and Suo-chan didn't explain?"

...oh.

Well that was.. a relief. He hadn't made a complete fool of himself by mistakenly thinking everyone was somehow involved. When one was involved, typically everyone was involved.

Just ask Anzai.

But- also, what the hell did that mean? Explain what?

Haruka can feel his brow ticking downwards.

"Explain...?"

Those soft fingers tighten between his once more, their bare lower arms brushing together when their lack of winter sleeves becomes apparent.

"Well~ today is Kiss Sakura Day, of course!" Kiryu tells him cheerfully, like he didn't already know that, "The name's already pretty self explanatory, you know?"

No! He didn't know! That's why he was asking!

Haruka feels a shout building in his chest at not being understood and quickly clamps his jaw shut- refusing to let it push at his tongue. Shouting was... fine. It was the only way he knew how to get himself noticed, before Makochi. Before attention was being handed out like- he thinks the saying is candy?

He wouldn't know that either, considering the first person to give him candy was a batty old man. Still..

If you weren't being acknowledged, then speak louder. Make them acknowledge you, if all else fails.

And normally he would. That's what he did.

..but Kiryu... wasn't like him. Kiryu didn't like yelling.

The pink haired boy never even raised his voice if he could help it, never resorted to anything more than a firmer edge to his tone. Knowing everything that he did... knowing the reason why his friend got so flighty...

Relating to it..

Haruka couldn't bring himself to be a reminder.

So- he swallows it down. And he lets his next words wheeze out in a higher pitch than he'd really prefer, "No- I meant... why?"

"Ohh."

There. Point understood.

"Why not, Sakura-chan?" Kiryu sums up, in faux innocence- the bastard.

How could he forget.

Kiryu was still, and forever would be, a pain in his ass.

The grade captain finds himself sputtering in outrage, and wishing for this conversation to just be over already. Fuck this, fuck everything, he doesn't need answers anymore.

He went to the wrong person!

He wants to scream out his next words, but that would probably just result in Kiryu taking his hand away and... Haruka isn't.. ready. For that.

...not yet.

"What do you mean why not!? Ain't kisses just something- something you do with- with-" GAH, LET HIM SAY THE WORD, "With people you- you know..."

All the pink haired boy does is tilt his head to the side, thumb absentmindedly soothing over his thumb and wrist. Begrudgingly, Haruka is forced to admit that it does feel nice. Calming.

Bastard.

Whatever.

"Care.. about." saying it out loud is... really kind of pathetic.

There's silence.. again. But it feels more pressing than the last one. Choking. Like the muzzle his family had forced on him that time he'd bitten someone.

It had seemed like the only way out at the time, when they boy was twice his size and pressing scissors to his hair- when Haruka had never been so scared yet in his small and short life. Maybe, though... maybe there had been another way, and he was just too violent to realize.

Too much like an animal when he'd snapped his jaws shut until the other boy yelled and sobbed.

Somehow, it feels like he's made that mistake again. And yet worse, somehow, too.

"..you really think..." Kiryu eventually starts, something quivery and fragile in his voice, "...that we don't care about you?"

And oh.

Haruka didn't like the way that sounded. At all.

It twisted at something he thought was long quelled inside his ribs, something that still jumped despite its broken limbs.

"That's not-" Haruka tries, floundering for a response.

That's not what he meant, when he'd said it. Care was just... something still new to him, okay? He didn't know.. what it was supposed to feel like.

Ugh.. he chose the wrong words. Maybe it would've made more sense, to the both of them, if he'd said something like- family?

Or lovers?

How was he supposed to fix-

"Sakura-chan... do you- care about us?"

"More than anything-"

...Haruka hardly recognizes the sound of his own voice. The words rang true regardless, punched out of him before he saw it coming. Before he could brace for impact.

That wasn't a very fair fight.

What the hell?

Kiryu blinks at him again, and then suddenly he's bumping his forehead against Sakura's temple- holding their joined hands up to his chest, to the thump-thump-thump of his heart.

"Ah, our Sakura-chan is such a romantic," he teases, grinning bright, "You thought kisses were just for lovers, didn't you?"

It's an out, a lifeline thrown, and it's one that Haruka takes with both hands. This time, though, it didn't feel like running. It didn't feel like retreat.

It just felt safe. Cozy.

"I did not-!"

He didn't!

"Didn't your mom ever give you a kiss on the forehead?" Kiryu interrupts, and this time his innocence is genuine. Genuine and playful as their hands swing between them.

Haruka kinda feels like the worst person alive, especially considering the weighted mood had just begun to lift, when he answers with, "I never.. really knew her."

It's not a lie, those aren't something he's ever really been good at, but maybe it would've been better not to say anything at all. To just grumble and let it lay.

That soft hand around his tightens almost to the point of pain, and then loosens again- apologetic.

"Oh... I'm- sorry, Sakura-chan."

The grade captain takes a gamble.

His thumb is clumsy as it swipes up the side of Kiryu's pointer, which really the only part of his hand he can reach with this finger. Only.. Haruka's fingers aren't soft at all, so it must be very uncomfortable actually.

He switches to gentle taps and presses. Just present enough to say, 'I'm here, it's okay. I'll take care of it.'

Though 'it' is the awkwardness he created, so..

This is why Haruka didn't talk about himself, not if he could help it...

Well- one of the reasons, at least.

Their walk continues with the weight of his confession looming overhead, stifling the once calm atmosphere, yet they don't let go of each other's hand. Haruka would, if Kiryu wanted, but... he hadn't said anything yet.

So-

It was fair game. Yeah.

It was so warm-

"...I didn't mean to drag up any unpleasent memories," the pink haired boy confesses, drifting a little closer to his grade captain's side, "I just wanted to show you..."

Kiryu Mitsuki's piercings remain cold even in the summer heat, even when pressed against flustered hot skin, as he brings the back of Haruka's hand- still entwined with his own- to his lips.

chu

It makes their elbows curl and knock together, but it's not awkward- for the first time today.

"..that we care about you too."

...oh.

"That's why we set this whole day up," Kiryu continues, completely unaware of his captain's brain melting out his ears, "Although, I really would've preffered to take my turn without all this dram- SAKURA-CHAN!?"

Haruka has logged off, actually.

No new requests can be made at this time.

It's a miracle, honestly, that all the heat in his face and fingers and arms and neck hadn't fried his nerve control and sent him crashing to the cracked sidewalk. Though, that might just be because of his friend tightening his grip and leaning back on his heels.

"Okay, maybe that was a bit too much all at once.. let's go cool you down..."

There's nothing mocking in the way Kiryu laughs at him then, in the way he pats his bicep before trying to fan at his grade captain's flaming face.

There's really only what he'd said just seconds before.

Care.

Care in the way the pink haired boy drags him over to a shaded bench and sits him down. Care in the way he tugs at his collar to get it off his neck. Care in the way he squeezes his palm and gently detangles their fingers with soft words of promise when Haruka can't bring himself to let go just yet.

His mind only really comes back online when something freezing presses into the space beneath his jaw. Right where...

"ACK-!"

"Ah! There he is!"

Kiryu sighs in relief as Haruka scrubs at his neck, moving back whatever he had left to grab and pressing it to his captain's cheek instead.

It.. actually felt kinda nice.

Before he could stop himself, he found himself leaning into it- chasing the cooling kidness of the action.

"You overheat reeeally easily, Sakura-chan," his friend muses, fanning him again with his free hand, "How did you survive before us, hm?"

Hot metal bites at his mind like a brand, just for a second, before Haruka's eyes focus on the softer greens of Kiryu's eyes.

...huh..

"I... don't know."

Funny how Makochi turned him around like that. How it spilled his guts across their palms and just as easily stitched him back up- not unlike the way a frog cleaned out its stomach.

A smile tugs at his face.

. . .

Wait-

Kiryu startles away as Haruka straightens- pulling what looks like a water bottle back with him.

"Sakura-chan?"

"That th-thing, Suo and Nirei did," the grade captain stumbles out, marginally clear headed again, "With their eyes- that wasn't a k-kiss!"

The pink haired boy had gotten him so flustered with his pretty words that Haruka had completely forgotten the original reason he switched around their patrol groups.

Ah.. wincing, he vaguely hopes his vices weren't offended by that decision...

"With their eyes..?" Kiryu tips his head to the side as he uncaps the water and passes it over.

Mmrg.. it was that brand. This brand tasted weird- tangy, kinda, like a bunch tiny needles stabbing at his tongue and weighing down his stomach.

Whatever... Kiryu went out of his way to grab it for him, so it's only fair he actually drinks it. He'll deal.

"Ah!"

It's Haruka's turn to startle as his friend hits his opposite palm.

"With their eyelashes, you mean?"

A nod.

"Those are called butterfly kisses, Sakura-chan."

"Oh..."

Well that made more sense.

+=+=+

"SHIT!"

His skin burns as asphalt shreds the material of his uniform knee- as it tears at his exposed arm, already weakened from the very strike that sent him tumbling.

Fucking- punks. Showing up out of nowhere.. damnit.

"Sakura!" Tsugeura shouts at him, despite being tied up with his own guys- three, or maybe four from the looks of it. Five? Some of them were blurry..

Shit.

Haruka forces himself back on his feet with a huff of strained breath, swearing again.

They had been doing so well.

Then this fucker had to pull out a fucking hammer. Like the damn coward that he was.

Who just carried those around on them!?

Granted- he had been hit with much worse.. much heavier objects, in much worse places than his arm, but still!

OW!

Haruka's limbs scream at him to pull back, to flee and curl into himself and take a break, but that wasn't an option anymore. It wasn't just himself he was fighting to protect this time.

Tsugeura grabs two goons by the sides of their heads and smashes them together with brutal efficiency, something dark in his usually friendly eyes.

...wow.

They crumble like a card tower.

The third [guess it was only three, after all] rushes the ginger's back, but Haruka can't focus on that when Hammer Guy™ tries to get another swing in.

"EYES ON ME, YEAH?"

Needy bastard.

The grade captain feels something feral tug at his sternum, twisting his face into something that might resemble a smile.

Maybe.

If smiles were full of teeth cut on the bones of a thousnad situations just like this.

"Well, if you insist," he snarls, rearing back an already bloodied fist, "BUT DON'T GO CRYING WHEN IT BITES YOU IN THE ASS!"

Hammer Guy™ doesn't last long after that hammer goes flying. Fucking weak-willed, cowardly bastard. Haruka isn't surprised.

. . .

Tsugeura-!

The grade captain spins on his heel, just to see the other three cowards fleeing with their tails tucked between their legs- just like their leader did. They're screeching something he really can't be bothered to comprehend.

His head hurts...

His friend looks- fine, though. A bit scratched up, considering this batch came armed with knives and the like, but okay.

Good.

That was... good. Haruka feels his knee start to buckle.

"SAKURA!"

Two strong hands catch him by the shoulders before he could make friends with the ground again- these hands aren't soft, not like Kiryu's, but they're just as gentle. Perhaps even more so.

"Keep... your voice down.. would ya?" he can't help but grumble anyway, "M'head.. hurts."

Tsugeura sets him on the curb as carefully as he can, nodding ferociously.

"Sorry! Sorry," the taller boy amends, at his grade captain's wince, "Just sit down for a sec, okay? You hit the ground pretty hard.."

Yeah, he knows.

Still, he's glad to be the only casualty- even if it's mortifying beyond belief. Everybody else was safe and unhurt. As they should be, if his naive hope had any say in the matter.

It was fine.

Something starts stinging at his knee, and it's only then that Haruka peels his eyes back open- unaware of when they had closed. It's just Tsugeura is wiping blood off his knee, a gentle giant as he cradles the injured limb in one hand and dabs with the other.

Then, of all things, he pulls out a bandaid from the depths of his pocket.

It's a pink of some sorta shade- kinda like Kiryu's hair. But specked with details his eyes his fuzzy eyes can't quite pick up on right now. A cat- maybe?

Who knows, who cares.

Obviously his face does, because it makes some sorta expression that has the ginger chuckling as he smoothes out the plaster.

"One of my virtues is to always be prepared! And you'll heal faster with a fun design, you know?"

What?

"That- makes absolutely no sense." Haruka grumbles, just to be contrary. He was stubborn alright, sue him.

Not that- he had any money to be sued for. So...

Tsugeura grins, obviously trying very hard to keep himself quiet out of respect for his captain's pounding head. Because he was just a sweet guy like that... a weirdo.

Haruka feels his chest warm.

"Sure it does," the ginger beams, before his brow tilts in something mischievous- something that would make Suo proud, "You know what else will help you heal faster?"

...oh no.

Please no- don't tell him this guy was in on this nonsense too- please.

"A kiss!"

FUCK.

Tsugeura takes advantage of Haruka's fuzzy state to shuffle closer, to bring his mouth down right onto the pink plaster and-

MWAH

-give it a kiss. Like his grade captain was a child.

Haruka kinda hates that it works.

+=+=+

@ SAKURA HARUKA's FANCLUB: -> all contacts       CLASS 1-1       CLASS 2-1       KINGS       KOTOHA-SAMA       SHISHITOREN       WASTE OF INK

-- all contacts

@ all contacts Kiryu Mitsuki: ... Kiryu Mitsuki: mission success! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡ 8:34 Kiryu Mitsuki: Sakura-chan really needed this, to be honest... 8:34 Kiryu Mitsuki: (,,>﹏<,,) 8:35

. . . @ Umemiya-*san*, and 13 others gave your message a thumbs up!

@ all contacts Tsugeura Taiga!: You're telling me... poor guy's never even had someone kiss his boo-boos! :( 8:42

[gothambystarlight]

Stars Over Gotham Notes #01: Cars

Hello! This is madaliz. I didn't want to fill the ao3 author's notes of SoG with this much rambling (it'd clutter the epub/pdf/etc. downloads) so I made this blog to post my long notes for my DC fics. The sources of the pictures in this post will be linked via the car model names.

SoG is heavily AU although it has roots in and echoes of (mostly pre-n52) canon. If you havent read SoG and you're just curious, that will matter here. (Is it canon? Is it fanon? No it's a secret third thing lmao)

JASON - 2017 Lexus IS200t F Sport (Red)

“My philosophy of stuff,” Jason once told him, “is to only own things that scream: ‘I fucking dare you’,” (CH10)

Luxurious. Ostentatious. A little pretentious. Jason's civilian car is designed to make a statement. In his view the car is a front, a tease, a dare. He might prefer a less vibrant shade of red, but this is what he thinks Jason Wayne would want. Adopted into old money from the streets, the persona Jason Wayne is a noveau riche bad boy. Sometimes Jason worries when his private tastes are too close to the public persona. Most days he could not care less.

DAMIAN - 2009 Kia Sorento (Ebony Black)

"Tim's always seen the Sorento as an extension of Damian's self, the only glimpse into his real personality that he allows in his "private" life." (CH2)

When Damian was scoping out secondhand cars to buy with his saved up allowance, the factors he principally considered were reliability and space. Privately there was a third consideration: it couldn't be a "luxury" car. Reasonably priced with a reputation for consistency, the Sorento checked all of Damian's boxes. Tim reflected (CH2) that Damian's meticulous upkeep of the car was a glimpse of Damian's true self, of his discipline. But, Damian's friends will give you another reason: he just doesn't want to buy a new car. Generous with his friends, but utilitarian with himself -- this is the part of himself Damian allows the world to see. Indulgences are best kept private.

BRUCE - 2015 Aston Martin Rapide S (Silver)

"Behind him, is a silver Aston Martin, one Bruce Wayne has been known to drive to parties." (CH3)

Bruce Wayne is a consummate dandy, and a foppish persona requires an equally foppish car. Classic, easily recognizable, and a child's idea of an old money car (El*n M**k drives a James Bond car too). Bruce (and occassionally Tim) drives the Aston Martin to look like a fool and get noticed. It always works.

TIM - 2018 Kia Stinger GT1 (Aurora Black)

"Though the black sedan is definitely less luxurious than the Aston Martin they’d previously ridden in, it has a shine that separates it from every other vehicle on the street." (CH6)

Tim thinks this is a lowkey car. It's not. While he's not the only one of Bruce's kids who was raised old money, he's the only one who was trained for Gotham High Society. His sensibilities of what's normal are a little skewed. Chapter 6 was written and posted before the Kia Stinger was discontinued, which means that in-SoG-universe, when this also inevitably happens, Tim's Stinger will be even less lowkey. Fortunately, Tim Wayne the civilian persona is an out-of-touch dandy with a heart of gold. The Stinger is an on brand misstep.

JASON (Again) - 2018 Honda CR-V (Sandstorm Metallic)

"They climb into Jason’s most nondescript car, a beige Honda CR-V." (CH11)

Unlike Tim, Jason knows what an actual lowkey car is. He calls it his soccer mom car, knowing full well that a Honda HR-V better fits the stereotype.

DICK - 2022 Mercedes-Maybach S580 (Obsidian Black)

"When he gets to the underground parking lot, Dick’s waiting for him in his black Maybach, classy and inconspicuous to the untrained eye." (CH28)

Dick wants to drive what people expect him to drive. Richard Wayne the civilian is a stereotype, Gotham's Paris Hilton. Dick views the Maybach as practical for his status. It isn't as arresting as Bruce's Aston Martin or Jason's Lexus, and it doesn't have any of the lines and curves that make Tim's Stinger "street chic." From the back, you might even mistake it for a mid-tier Toyota until you get your eyes checked and see the glittering Mercedes logo. This careful balance of chic and blending in, is by design, a ploy that was not always successful at the GCPD parking lot.

THE LANE-KENTS - 2009 Toyota Vios (Blue)

"Suddenly he hears the sound of an approaching car. The sound of an engine huffing and puffing, slowly and steadily struggling forward." (CH1)

Exaggeratedly clumsy like it's main driver, Clark Kent, the Lane-Kents' car of choice was old when they bought it and ancient by the time the story begins. They're not very conscientious about keeping it maintained, and sometimes all that keeps it running is sheer willpower (or Kon's TTK) but at this point it's part of the family.

BONUS stuff I had in mind that didn't make it into SoG in the end:

CASS - Vespa SXL125 (Pearl White + Matt Black)

Cass enjoys the wind in her hair and in her Loewe silk scarves. Nearly all her papparazzi photos are of her on her Vespa on the way to the Theater. She looks like a Dutch Princess biking in The Hague, it tells the public absolutely nothing about her, exactly as she likes it. Highly visible but infinitely mysterious, pop stars repeatedly approach her to make her their album cover, she's said yes only once. (To who? I like to think it was someone like Olivia Rodrigo or Rosé (young hip and Asian), but my lol idea is Bruno Mars)

STEPH - 1972 Volkswagen Beetle (Purple)

Steph walked up to a used cars salesman and told him to give her the cheapest car he had. He offered her his own 1972 Volkswagen, dirt cheap. When she saw what color it was she laughed herself sick, shook the salesman's hand, and bought it immediately. Cass is the only other person who likes it. Steph nicknamed it "Timothy" as a joke and a dig after she and Tim broke up but, much to Tim's chagrin, that's what everyone calls it to this day.

[electric-guillotines]

⚡ Tears of Empire City ⚡ CH2 (5.2K)

Wanda Maximoff x F!OC

Rating: M Things of Note: Lagos incident never happens, everyone is some flavour of queer, the inherent body horror of a healing factor, Steve and Nat being bros, Wanda being confident while OC is a flustered dork, cool lightning powers

=====AO3 LINK=====

“Kassidy MacGrath, 25, born in Seattle to parents Silvia and Ronan MacGrath. One sibling, a 20 year old brother called Arthur. The family moved to Pittsburgh when MacGrath was 14 for a lucrative job offer.”

The family picture felt off somehow and it took Wanda a moment to realise what was wrong about it because it was otherwise completely innocuous. Everyone was in their Sunday best, smiling brightly for the camera, Ronan and Silvia standing in the middle, Silvia's gloved hands resting on the shoulders of Arthur, sitting in front of her wearing a suit like his father—the boy looked no older than 13. Then there was Kassidy, standing to her mother's right, wearing a modest green dress to match her mother, her eyes completely untouched by the smile on her face.

Something at the back of her mind said it wasn't just the surliness of a teenager who didn't want to be there, but with no way to investigate that Wanda let it go unremarked, instead listening carefully as Hill continued. “MacGrath was a promising student, could've gotten into some top universities with a GPA of 4.0 but she stayed in Pittsburgh studying physics with her stated goal being theoretical and experimental physics.”

“So she's disciplined, intelligent, and isn't afraid of a challenge but didn't get far from the looks of it,” Natasha said, scrutinizing the girl's academic record from her corner of the table. “What happened?”

Hill nodded from the vid-call. “About a year into her studies, MacGrath dropped out and skipped town overnight. She's been working as a bike courier in Empire City since then. No information on why, professors said she was doing great.”

“Have we had contact with the parents?” Steve asked, arms crossed. His brow was furrowed the way it often was when he was preparing to be disappointed by someone.

Hill shook her head. “Yes, but they didn't want to talk about her. They just called her a disgrace to the family and hung up.”

Tapping through a few files, Hill brought up multiple camera feeds overlooking a public square. It was a large open space in a half circle, elevated above the roads, with glassy pavilions on each side, benches bracketed by lampposts and raised flower beds, and picnic tables for groups. A towering sculpture dominated the centre of the square, held aloft on arched pillars, its back to the flat edge of the space. The statue was that of a humanoid figure, under-lit metal arches coiling up to its waist like a double helix, arms held parallel to the chest and hands almost linked but just out of reach.

Tangled on those arms was an army green parachute from which a large aid package dangled, well out of reach from the civilians gathered below.

Some people were clearly trying to see if they could climb up the base of the statue, but none of them got very far.

Hill went on to explain, “a hostile mercenary group called the Legionnaires has taken over the Neon since the blast. We’re still following leads on them but at the same time, Warren Hill fell under the control of a different group calling themselves the Reapers, and the Historic is now being patrolled by soldiers with gas masks and robotic drones. No one has made any demands and the groups don’t seem to be fighting each other for territory but they’ve cut the districts off from each other by raising all the drawbridges and closing roads. Two days ago, MacGrath was spotted in an altercation with the Legionnaires.”

The camera in focus showed two figures approaching the crowd. One was a fat man of average height wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, gesturing with no small amount of exasperation at the parachute situation, and the other was slightly taller, slimmer, with shoulder length dark hair and cargos: Kassidy.

The man gestured some more, seeming to ask her a question, and she shrugged, walking towards the statue without him.

With a running start, Kassidy scrambled up the base of the statue, pulling herself up with the practiced ease of someone who spent a lot of time climbing things they weren’t supposed to. Either she wasn’t intimidated by the twenty foot drop just climbing the base would put her at risk of, or she cared more about releasing the aid than she did the harm it could cause her.

While she climbed, the man made sure to clear people away from the immediate area so the package wouldn’t drop on anyone.

Scaling the statue itself was a matter of balance and precision, something Kassidy didn’t lack as she hurried up the metal arches like she was walking a tightrope. When the angle became too steep she used her hands one over the other, finally straightening when she was level with the crate.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, perhaps unsure how to get it free, before she reached out a hand.

Bright blue electricity jumped from her fingertips, instantly burning the parachute cords. The crate dropped, hitting the statue base on the way down and breaking open, spilling relief packages everywhere, but it was down and the civilians scrambled to get what they could.

Hill commented, “twelve days after being dead centre of the blast. I’d say she’s looking pretty mobile, but that isn’t all.”

[Continue Reading on AO3]

[valeriianz]

AO3 Wrapped (author's edition)

tagged by @seiya-starsniper and @five-and-dimes <3 thanks!!

this is gonna be skewed awkwardly... most of what i posted on Ao3 this year were cross posted from tumblr... and only 2 of what i transferred over were written this year lol

so, i'm gonna include links to fics i posted on tumblr AND Ao3 this year. in (slightly) chronological order (all dreamling):

NYE fic, slightly possessive Hob part 2 of simmer (aka Chef!Hob) 4am Hard of hearing Dream Student/teacher PWP Hard of Hearing Dream pt.2 Dream misses Hob’s scent Motorcycle shenanigans Reason in the Noise ch2 Reincarnation/soulmates AU Mega popstar!Dream and his crush on Hob Bolt in the Blue chapters 9-15 (woo!!)

Stats of 2024 (pulled from Ao3 because no way im counting tumblr notes)

User Subscriptions: 200 Kudos: 2,380 Comment Threads: 752 Bookmarks: 538 Subscriptions: 672 Word Count: 155,651 Hits: 27,632

top 3 fics of 2024 by kudos:

Bolt in the Blue tease Reason in the Noise

top 3 fics of 2024 by word count:

Bolt in the Blue Reason in the Noise simmer

top 3 ships of 2024:

Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling babeyyy lmao

top 5 tags of 2024:

Fluff

Alternate Universe - Human

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Established Relationship

Sexual Tension

(yeah that all tracks haha)

(not tagging anyone because the year is over very soon! but thank you and happy new year!!)

[kordyceps]

Mutiny of the Hardest Order @ AO3

Steter | ch2/20 | rating: E (eventually) AKA The one where Stiles' dick develops a crush and Peter decides to humor it with some retaliatory light stalking.

Chapter 2: About the Appropriateness of Lurking in the Bedrooms of Teenagers

The thing about Peter Hale was that the man never let things go. He might lead you to believe he had let something go—assure you it was all water under the bridge, claim he had already forgotten all about it, or mercifully not bring up that really embarrassing moment when you got a half-chub around him last you were alone together even though it had been a whole week since then—but Peter Hale did not, in fact, ever let things go. He was careful, and clever, and would wait any amount of time necessary for the precisely opportune moment to strike. The bastard was tricksy like that. You couldn’t ever let your guard down around him, lest the fucker ambush you unawares and make you scream like a freaking little girl. Which was precisely what happened when Stiles came home from hanging with Scott one night only to find Peter Hale unexpectedly sitting at his desk, flipping idly through all his notes.

[ch2 direct link @ AO3]

[alpydk]

Veins of Glass

CH2 - Burnt Children Fear Fire

Ao3 Link

Nana flicked a few pages through the book, lines upon lines of pupils who had passed through the judging arches of the school, Burnt Children Fear Fire carved into the stone at the entrance. Shrewd headmasters had frowned from sketches. Teachers had been in tenure for decades, each one more likely to wield the cane than the last. Eventually, she stopped upon a small chapter listing accolades that various students had received upon graduation. One name appeared repeatedly. Rosewood, T.

Looking up almost proudly, she dragged her finger under the text. “See. He was really smart. Numbers, reading, even the physical stuff. He was their school champion in fencing for years.”

Gale couldn’t help but frown, noting that the boy’s prowess in combat had come early in life and was not just a result of military drills and war. “So, I see… But this has yet to explain exactly who Thomas was as a person. We see but snapshots of a life created by those who most likely aspired to profit from the tales.”

“No, he was smart. His sister told me.”

“You have mentioned her briefly and yet say little more about her. Was she really so devoted to someone such as Thomas?”

Flipping back to the original image of Thomas, Nana pointed to the tall, smiling girl. “Brienna, that’s her name. She was…” Nana’s words trailed off, a distant memory passing before her before she shook her head and the brightness returned to her eyes. “She was a good person. Had the best stories about him.”

“Was?”

The smile didn’t quite reach Nana���s eyes, but she nodded, almost too enthusiastically. “Yep. Anyway. Thomas.” She tapped her finger repeatedly on the image, conjuring up the thoughts that eluded her. “When I met him, he was a soldier, like you know. But he wasn’t just any soldier. He was some secret agent for the king.”

Again came the proud grin, one that caused Gale to hold back his words. Despite all that had happened, the past of blood and death, Nana still revered the once saviour of her loneliness.

“Fencing was his speciality, but he also took part in archery, wrestling, and boxing,” she continued, turning pages back through the book until she came across a sketch of a team of adolescents. “This was the school fencing team.” A delicate finger landed on the centre of the group, the same distant look on the young man’s face. “He always looks like quite the outsider… maybe that’s why…”

Gale didn’t need to finish her sentence. He knew of how the years had treated Nana; solitude, loneliness, being her only companions in the dredges of the swamps she called home. All love she held for Thomas had been a confusion of manipulation and trying to find someone like her. And at times it was difficult to believe that their own relationship was nothing but the same.

“My love-” Gale spoke with a small hint of concern in his tone “-There are those who are ostracised through no fault of their own, and then there are those who choose such a life. I can not help but believe that he may have been a part of the latter.”

There was still the lingering hint of protectiveness towards Thomas that Nana could not hide. After so many years, after the events in Baldur’s Gate, she knew logically that her love for this man, monster, was not true and yet something in her heart clung to better memories, clung to the stories that Brienna had spoken during long dark nights. “He was very charismatic. Maybe not poetry and wine like you, but you know, a certain vampiric charm.”

“Not the best comparison…”

“Maybe not, but it still works…” A blush rose in Nana’s pale cheeks, an almost off-blue grey against the porcelain tones.

Gale took the hint, pushing aside the book in her hands and pinning her between his toned arms on the floor of the library.

She leant back slightly, giving him more room to hold himself over her, a reflective need to bite her lower lip and subdue the giggle at his actions. “Gale? What are you-”

“Now, darling-” Gale interrupted, the faux purr of the words almost making him laugh himself. “I do love a glass of strong organic red.”

---

The glass of red caught the light of the candles flickering from the candelabra on the dinner table. Thomas had been caught in the flow since it had been poured from the bottle, the servant’s weathered hands almost trembling after the mistake a night previously. It was never his parents that punished, but there were rules to be followed, rules that applied to each member of the household no matter their status.

Quietly he ate as his father spoke of the events of the day, about business as usual amongst the traders, of a potential war in a far-off nation. Thomas’s mother would add small acknowledgements to her husband’s words, would fuss in the only way a mother could at the table. Brienna delicately pushed her fork around her plate, making a conscious effort not to let her elbows touch the cotton tablecloth.

 It would only be a matter of time before the subject was turned to items much closer to home.

“I spoke with your headmaster today,” came the dry tone.

Thomas peered up, grey eyes reflecting the candlelight. The same flickering red within as without.

“Collins.”

A boy in his class, rotund, glasses. The comments had been building for weeks, remarks about family, about sexuality. The usual comments any fifteen-year-old boy thought were funny to taunt another with. Thomas nodded in acknowledgement, not having been given the permission to speak as of yet. Rules to be followed, rules that applied.

“From my understanding, you gave the boy quite the beating.”

Again, a nod.

“So much so that a cleric was required to attend the school.”

It had been a bloodbath, one teacher had said. Talk of expulsion, of Collins never being able to attend class again.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

There was a moment where the words ‘He deserved it’ came to mind, the insults ringing loudly in Thomas’ ears, but this was not appropriate. It was certainly not suitable that a child of the Rosewood lineage would succumb to such emotions as anger, or dare he admit it, insecurity.

“He fell.” A pitiful lie, but would the truth be better, that Collins had caught Thomas after fencing, watching another change? Had questioned his actions, threatened to tell everyone what had happened.

His father’s eyebrow raised; cutlery placed down beside his plate. “Don’t take me for some fool, boy. What occurred?”

“Now dear, don’t go so hard on him.” Thomas’ mother was signalling for more wine to be poured, for distractions to be brought forth. “From what I hear, that Collins boy is quite the nuisance.”

“Nuisance or not, my son was involved in a serious occurrence.”

Brienna was watching the goings on. Even she had heard the whispers around the schoolyard of how her older brother had left another disfigured. She’d seen the stretcher brought out bloodstained with the unconscious teenager a deadweight upon it.

Thomas mumbled some words, already knowing that alone would face rebuke at the dinner table.

“Speak up!”

“He tried to…” The cogs were turning, a suitable lie, one that would show him as the hero. “He tried to touch me, sir.”

“Touch you?” came the incredulous reply, steel eyes narrowed and boring into him.

Would it be too much to cry? It certainly wouldn’t be the correct behaviour for a man. No, he would show that he was brave, not an embarrassment to the family name. “After fencing, Collins placed his hand upon my thigh. He said he wanted me, sir.”

Thomas had spent too many days watching as Dalton, another of their class, had changed, firm calves from the stance of the fighting style, a sleek figure that glistened as they washed. It had been Thomas’ own dream to place a hand on those thighs, to kiss the femoral artery of such a form, to drain the colour from the flesh. Lies were easier if they were based somewhere in truth.

Thomas’s father simply nodded in understanding. “Then you did well, boy, to protect yourself from that type.”

The rest of the meal was in silence, the clink of cutlery on porcelain, the shuffling of servants trying to avoid reproach. As the grandfather clock chimed from the hallway, the family parted, their brief time together finally at an end for another night. Thomas returned to his room, a small sense of pride in his deception.

“Liar,” spoke Brienna as she stood in front of his bedroom door, her arms folded across her chest in defiance. She may have been younger, but still she stood eye to eye with him, his growth spurts over the years short and sporadic.

He tried to shove past her, but she stood her ground. Despite what he was capable of, there was always something that held him back from harming his dear sister. The books may have gone up in flames over the years, her dresses torn, or dolls buried, but physical harm to her was never wanted. “Move, Bri.”

“No. Not until you tell me what happened.”

“It was as I told father.”

Brienna let Thomas pass into the bedroom, following after him before he had a chance to slam the door in her face. “I saw what Collins looked like. That was a little more than self-defence.”

How could he begin to explain? The thoughts weren’t normal, weren’t natural. Dalton’s form swam in front of Thomas’ vision. Was it something primitive, or was it the hunger to see the scarlet lying beneath glistening skin that controlled his dreams, something much more sinful? He perched on the edge of the bed, sighing deeply.

“Come on, Thomas. You know you can always talk to me.”

She may have been a pain, a little sister constantly trying to get involved, but she was innocent. In front of Kelemvor, she would walk by into paradise with little thought needed as to her fate.

“Collins caught me watching a boy after fencing practice. He read the situation wrong and threatened to tell others. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“And so you beat him to within an inch of his life?”

“I may have got carried away.”

“That’s an understatement.”

After a heavy moment of silence, Brienne moved closer to Thomas, sitting herself next to him on the bed and placing an arm around his shoulder. “Which boy was it?”

“Hm?”

“The one you were watching.”

“What does that matter?”

“I just want to know your type.”

The arm around Thomas gripped that little tighter, bringing him in closer for comfort. He couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle, tears pricking his eyelashes. How easy it was for her to accept him, but how could she ever understand that what drove him was not simple boyish urges but whispers in the night? How long would it be before he succumbed to the bloodlust, and she discovered the truth?

They sat for some time in silence, both contemplating the lives they had ahead of them, the expectations thrust upon both of them to succeed. Whilst Thomas would find his path with the family business, Brienna would be married off, would become the perfect housewife to another, just like that of their father. A life of fussing over dinner tables and being oblivious to the realities of the world. Wine, candles and etiquette.

“Love you,” she said as they parted ways for the night, the door closing softly behind her.

Thomas stretched out over the bare sheets. Another day passed, one of confusion, violence. His knuckles still ached from his actions and yet they did not crack nor bleed as expected. Instead, he looked upon them fondly, tracing each bone with a finger, examining each digit. His hands, a weapon, a gift, the perfect tool for creating art.

[chihoshisai]

Days of Dash ch3

Goth Family (Zoro, Perona, Mihawk) and Straw Hats (Luffy, Nami, Usopp)

Ch1, Ch2

cw : romance dawn trio shenanigans, face slap, arguing, illness, more straw hats to come // wc : 1,862K as a PREVIEW, the full chapter is 3,157 words you can read directly on ao3 or find the link at the end of the preview for the full chapter // kinda sucks that there's no brown for usopp

Recruiting Friends : A Pathological Liar

“Let's make our way to the cafeteria then!” Luffy grinned, remembering the reason behind their outing while the notes of the first bell rang above his words like a deliberate sabotage. Zoro too, having been swept up in the recruitment of their new member, almost forgot.

“What? No, there's no time for that,” Nami began, exiting their place under the stairs, “we have to get back to class before the second bell rings or we'll be in trouble.”

“What,” Luffy whined, following her alongside Zoro, “but I'm hungry!” 

“How can you be hungry when it's still so early!” Nami roared in his ears, walking next to the two.

It was true that not enough time had passed to trigger one’s hunger, the weight of Zoro’s undigested meal pressuring his stomach in a bearable way. “Did you not eat breakfast this morning Luffy?” he asked, concerned.

“I did, in fact I ate eggs, ham, bread, pancakes,” Luffy began, numbering each dish on his fingers and harvesting the laugh of Zoro, along with the bewildered expression of Nami.

“Then how are you still hungry?!” She boomed in his ears.

Still grinning, Zoro's affinity towards his new companions increased, as the warm sensation of enjoying himself swelled inside his heart. “I'll give you some of my snacks to eat when we're back.” 

“Really, what sorts of snacks?” Luffy rejoiced, raising his arms in triumph before turning an excited face towards Zoro, and causing Nami to shake her head with a sigh. 

“You'll choose when we get there,” he simply answered, further smiling at the thought of helping his friend out. 

---

With the start of the curriculum, discovering the general outline like the beginning of a new book, class mostly consisted of reviewing previously learned concepts and testing the student’s knowledge simultaneously. Zoro, having no interest in academic matters, going as far as deleting whatever information he struggled to bring forth during tests once they were over, considered it a waste of time seeing that he could have been training instead. 

Now sitting at the back of the class, feeling the dull of time passing, he glanced towards his newly acquired connections — Nami sat upright, taking note of any additional information that may prove useful, and Luffy seemed oddly engrossed in his notebook, his hand fervently moving along the pages with his signature smile. Consequently, upon a stretch of his neck Zoro witnessed the meat looking shower of doodles that perpetuated to fill Luffy’s notebook with every move of his wrist. Zoro wasn’t sure what to expect, but certainly it was not this — Luffy was in a world of his own. With that thought dancing in his mind, almost bringing forth a smile on his face, the poor feature was forced to recoil at the murmur of Nami’s voice. 

“What are you looking at?” She arched an eyebrow at him, hiding her notes with her slender arm.

Taking notice that his neck was still stretched thanks to her, Zoro simply returned a bored look while distancing himself from her desk. “Nothing, I just wanted to see what Luffy was up to,” he mumbled with a shrug. And as his words caused Nami to glance towards the said straw hat student, Zoro silently grinned as he saw the exasperation rain down on her features, making Nami aware that responsibility towards their grade would fall on her shoulders.

The rest of the class consisted of a mixture of focused students, attentive but easily distracted ones but all failing to capture Zoro’s attention, as he thought of them like similar looking plants, while his eyes lowered to his empty notebook before turning to the translucent color of the window, ignoring his self reflection to gaze at the faraway school ground that glowed under the soft gold of the sun. 

His first day had been going well, far better than he had expected and with the right company, the glimmer of hope made him consider that maybe he wouldn’t be labeled as a problem child with anger management this time around. Chuckles and contentment had found their way into his heart and behavior ever since his meeting with Luffy, making for the right aspiration towards change. Plus the school seemed to host far worse concerning cases than him, so there was that too. 

With his head in the clouds along with the speech of the teacher sounding like nothing but the buzz of a bee, Zoro found his peace disturbed by the ringing voice of a classmate.

“Me, the Great Usopp, will gladly answer the question,” a long nosed student confidently stated with a hand raised. Seeing from his peripheral vision that Usopp had managed to capture the attention of Luffy, Zoro momentarily parted from the window to watch with expectation the way in which the right answer would be delivered. 

“It’s no big deal since I’ve got an IQ of 300,” Usopp boasted, following the praise he received from the teacher, while remaining steadfast in his gloat as some of the class erupted in a muffled laughter at his unreasonable fact. 

“300? Surely there’s no way,” Nami silently pointed out under her breath, her eyes fixated on Usopp with a dubious expression. Right, his claim might have sounded akin to a lie, but it was enough to incite a chuckle out of Luffy, whom Zoro saw due to Nami’s comment.  

“300? That’s amazing!” Luffy intensely exclaimed, sharing his innocent opinion around him. 

“It’s not true!” Nami quickly told him in a scolding manner.

Curving his lips in disappointment, Luffy disheartenedly lowered his voice in response. “What? It’s not?” 

With the fuzz of the class continuing still, Zoro took the opportunity to chime in on the conversation, “how could you believe such a thing?” he asked him, intrigued at his thought process.

“I just thought it was true,” the straw hat earnestly answered, before the shush of the teacher slithered throughout the class to bring back the respectful academic atmosphere. 

Zoro exchanged a last look accompanied by a grin with his seat neighbors before bringing his attention back to the window that greeted him with its unchanging scenery and so until the ring of the bell, like a pandemonium that would stir anyone from their occupation, came announcing the second break.

“Usopp!!” A loud Luffy yelled, rising from his chair. 

“What’s with you?!” The surprised voice of Nami came asking, resulting in a synchronized startle from Zoro who felt his mood irk at her sudden uprise.

Upon hearing his name, the person in question turned to see the frown of a scary looking green haired student, a cunning yet almost certainly double faced expression of a tangerine colored one and the clueless, carefree look of the other. “I must’ve heard the wrong name,” Usopp loudly muttered, visibly intimidated by the strong atmosphere as he rigidly stood from his chair and to disappear behind the front door.

“Why would you call someone’s name like that?!” Nami scolded, a hand latching a slap along Luffy’s shoulder. 

Slightly losing balance, Luffy gave her an apologetic look, “he seems like a funny guy so I wanted to ask him to join our friend group,” he whined. 

“Then just walk up to him and talk to him like a normal person,�� Nami angrily roared in his ear, making Luffy feel small. “You’re only scaring him by yelling like that!” 

Her words certainly weren’t wrong, but upon putting himself in Usopp’s shoes, Zoro thought of it as nothing too alarming. “Well that’s one way to do it,” he shrugged.

“Don't encourage him,” the fury directed itself at him, causing another flinch to occur in Zoro at the sight of her inflamed eyes and the fist that threatened to rain down on him. If her blows were strong enough to deal damage on Luffy, Zoro dreaded the feel of her punch, as he remained silent after a slight grunt. 

Which proved to calm her enough as she sighed, a hand to her forehead. “Let’s try to ask him again alright Luffy?” she turned to face him, only to be faced with an empty seat and a backdoor that stood aghast. 

Grinning, Zoro stood from his seat, “seems like he got a head start,” he glanced towards the seat, before making his way towards the sea of hallways, a discouraged Nami following in his track.

---

Walking amidst the bright veil casted by the sun on the corridor, the chatter and laughter of other students filling the air with a sense of youth, Zoro and Nami quickly paced util noticing the peaking red lining of Luffy’s straw hat and who seemed meters away from interrupting the conversation of Usopp.

Leaping with unforeseen speed, Nami extended her arm to grab the loose back collar of Luffy, “didn’t you hear what I said earlier?! Don’t scare him off,” she hushed in his ear while dragging him away, having avoided a disaster. 

To the silent Zoro who stood watching the scolding, he thought that he along with her dubious demeanor might’ve scared Usopp more than the straw hat did, but he preferred to keep that comment to himself, unwilling to attract her temper to him and instead crossed his arm.

“But—” Luffy began, his arms limping by his side while his once loose necktie itched at his neck, courtesy of the pulling.

“Plus look, he’s clearly talking to someone,” Nami pointed out, interrupting and pushing the attention of her listeners towards the conversing Usopp, who stood with his back turned at them, his conversation carrying to their ears.   

Seeing a frail looking girl, her skin almost resembling snow despite the glow of the sun, Zoro came to the conclusion she must’ve been from another class as he didn’t recognize her. Not that he paid any attention to his own classmates since having already formed connections. But seeing how the girl kept glancing towards what seemed to be her classroom, almost eager to return with her mood growing bittersweet by the second, Zoro came to deduce as much.  

“Kaya, you really shouldn’t be here,” Usopp pleaded, hesitantly extending caring hands towards her. “Can’t you see that Klahadoll is evil in letting you come here?”

She drifted, avoiding the upcoming touch with a shaking head. “How can you speak of him like so, Usopp. He does not wish me harm,” she swayed upon speaking, making the four who had their eyes on her to flinch in worry — Usopp grasping her by the arms in a gentle way towards steadiness. 

Releasing what he held upon feeling the feeble attempt at wrestling away, Usopp further tried to beseech his reasoning. “Kaya, listen to me, I’m telling the truth this time, Klahadoll will be the death of you!”

Visibly losing her temper, the hand that found its way grazing the cheek of Usopp with a stout piercing sound, made all who stood nearby halt in shock, their mouth gaping. “Klahadoll has always protected me,” she stubbornly protested, her hand hovering in the air, while the stunned expression of Usopp lowered towards the ground, a cheek red from the aftermath.  “I’ve always liked listening to your stories, regardless of their credibility, but now you’ve taken it too far.”

Find out what happened between Kaya and Usopp on ao3!

[phoenixtakaramono]

29 - Truce or TNotG 50

Re: Questions for Fic Writers

Ty, anon, for the Ask! I’m gonna give a huge Spoiler Warning for Truce chs 3-4 (and TNotG ch1) which have not been posted to AO3 yet, so read at your own risk.

29) What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [insert fic]? Explain your choices if you want!

…Oh goodness, last I checked there were 89+ songs I have for TNotG’s playlist, haha. They’re pretty self-explanatory, in my opinion, but I ordered the songs all by the first world we start in + the six arcs + return to Billy’s world. I’ll link the playlist at the bottom end Author’s Note when The Name of the Game ch1 is ready to be published to AO3 in September 2023, but you can also listen to it here:

As for Truce (which you can read ch1-2 here), there are 47 songs…ahhhhh, essentially for both fics, I listen to these songs I like to help set the vibe, mood, and atmosphere for me while I write. It’s like my background music/ white noise. For me, it’s usually the lyrics which tie into the story, usually highlighting a character motivation, their vibe, or just setting the scene. I can highlight a couple songs:

Crazy - Jake Daniels - It really set the vibe for me to get into Homelander’s headspace whilst writing the prologue, because everything in this chapter is from Homelander’s POV. The atmosphere, the lyrics, and the coincidental bloody superhero album art? I thought it was perfect.✨

Wolf - Zack Merci X Arcana - For ch2 (part I), this song encompasses Billy’s overall goal and manipulation of everyone (the Boys, Homelander, and Vought). It’s pretty much the theme song of this chapter.

(Keeping in mind: 🔴 Billy’s POV, 🔵 Homelander’s POV)

Lyrics:

Got you in the palm of my hand

Sowing distrust over this land

I can make it hurt till you understand […]

I was such a fool

Under your command […]

See the truth is I had change of heart

And all that I know is

I will be tearing you all apart […]

I’ll get in your head like a nightmare

And if I was you, I would be scared

Bet you never saw this coming

Don’t you know that I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing

Power - Isak Danielson - If Truce could have an opening number like how every show does, this is pretty much the theme song for Truce overall. It also sets the vibe for ch3 (part II) when Billy and Homelander finally get frisky on the kitchen island countertop, and kinda for ch4 as well. Although the entirety of the chapter will be in Billy’s POV, I want you to know as everything is happening, especially if you listen to this song when you read ch3, these lyrics represent the desperation of the ideal that Homelander sees in Billy. He’s ready for that unconditional love, for that perfect soulmate partner who gets him 100% and is just as obsessed with him as he is; in a dramatic turn of events, he’s now essentially pinning all his last hopes for a human connection onto Billy. (Notice ch1’s line: “keep me sane. Keep me grounded. You are the one person preventing me from razing this earth to the f*cking ground” before it shifts into the fear that Ryan, his flesh and blood, will end up disappointing him ➡️ pivoting to the line of how “the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Failure, after failure, after failure […] Maybe what needed to be done was to reevaluate his life. Acquire a different perspective on things, a new outlook.” ➡️ The SHEER POETIC IRONY now that he’s shifted that target in his brain to Billy after what’d happened in ch1. It’s a disaster waiting to happen but we’ll only allude to the disastrous future potential at most because Truce is 4 chapters only and not 12 chapters so we’ll end on a Happy Ending for this PWP fourshot. For me, it’s a song that shows that it’s not always a women that can get stuck in a toxic codependent relationship and that men can also be stuck in the same shoes. And if that ain’t the situation with Homelander and Billy in Truce?

(Keeping in mind: 🔴 Billy’s POV, 🔵 Homelander’s POV)

Lyrics:

I still look at you with eyes that want you

when you move, you make my oceans move too

if I hear my name, I will run your way […]

it’s my desire that you feed, you know just what I need

you got power, you got power

you got power over me

I give my all now, can't you see, why won't you set me free?

you got power, you got power

you got power over me

I was lost until I found me in you

I saw a side of me that I was scared to

but now I hear my name and I’m running your way

All I feel as I get closer to you

is the Desire to move like you do

so now I hear my name and I’m running your way

I am ready now […]

I give my all now, can't you see, why won't you set me free? […]

You’re the one that seduced me, lured me in with your beauty, now I know that you used me

All you did was confuse me, you're no longer what I need, touch me slow, feel my heart bleed

(Also this song^ is the bee’s knees. I never skip this song in my iTunes playlist when it comes up and always belt it out when I’m alone. This song is very, very, very underrated. I highly rec you give it a listen.)

Rob a Bank - Confetti - “Who's to say that I can't break into your house / While you're working / I'm just lurking through your bedroom like a mouse / Gettin' naked on your sofa wearing just your penny loafers / Take some pictures leave 'em by your dirty dishes” ⬅️ What can I say? This screams Homelander to me and I laugh at the imagery of him breaking in, trying out Billy’s shiny new polished penny loafers whilst getting naked on his sofa and taking dirty pictures of himself to leave by the dirty dishes for Billy to find. It’s like a tomcat in heat scent-marking his territory. This song does help me imagine the dynamic when we get to the NS*W parts.

Religion - Isak Danielson / Dancing in the Sky - Kristen Cruz One of these songs will represent the penultimate ch4 which’ll entirely be written in HL’s POV; Religion mostly represents Homelander’s POV (which is really just him desperately trying to deceive himself if we look at it meta-ly, but shhh, he himself is not that self-aware in ch4) whereas Dancing in the Sky represents Billy’s side of things as we end the final scene in the story with Billy given approval to take Ryan to visit Becca’s grave to pay respects and for one last emotional send-off—whilst HL (who Billy doesn’t want to see him anywhere near this day) secretly watches the private moment from far away like a lurker outsider. It’s supposed to be a bittersweet emotional touching moment to tug at the readers’ heartstrings—which gets twisted because this is HL’s POV so it becomes tampered with his desperate obsessiveness and possessiveness of Billy being his and HL’s jealousy of Becca that he won’t admit to but, as an audience, we can tell he’s supeeeeer jealous (like, thanks for giving birth to my son—but you’re dead buried six-feet under, and your husband will be my husband now so good f*cking riddance; I will be the winner; he will come to forget you and love me only). It’s a very fatalistic self-fulfilling prophecy. I REMIND YOU, we will still have a Happy Ending for the Billy/ Homelander ship in Truce (hell, HL will even get to fondle Billy’s old wedding ring and think about having his own wedding ring on Billy’s wedding finger) but we’re gonna get a couple parting ouchies as a souvenir at the end a là Becca’s resting place visit.

Religion Lyrics (HL @ Billy):

Can we say goodbye to, to the lies you told

You know I’m wiser, I’ve been here before

I believed your stories, at least the blind in me

You gave my eyes what they wanted to see

I’ve lost my reality

I’ve lost everything in me […]

You act like a God and you’re trying too hard but I need it

I was once a believer

Now I’m back to believing

I’m trying to be smart with a stake through the heart but I feel it

Turning into addiction

Praying in your religion […]

Future doesn’t matter

I'd give it up for you

Even though I know that you’d never do

You know your power and I know it too

I’ll end up in fire, burning with you

Dancing in the Sky Lyrics (Billy @ Becca):

Tell me, what does it look like in heaven?

Is it peaceful? Is it free like they say?

Does the sun shine bright forever?

Have your fears and your pain gone away?

'Cause here on Earth it feels like everything

Good is missing since you left

And here on Earth, everything's different

There's an emptiness […]

I hope you're dancing in the sky

And I hope you're singing in the angel's choir

And I hope the angels know what they have

I'll bet it's so nice up in Heaven since you arrived

So tell me, what do you do up in Heaven?

Are your days filled with love and light?

Is there music? Is there art and adventure?

Tell me are you happy? Are you more alive?

50) Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

HMMMM. Since the ball is in my court, I’ll answer 49) What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! I tweeted a screenshot of TNotG ch1 - scene II yesterday night but I can give y’all a longer preview of a couple lines from my new QT:

Look forward to The Name of the Game being posted to AO3 on September 2023! Presently exposition scenes I-II (which total 38 pages, with scene I essentially being a speedrun to catch readers who are unfamiliar with these characters and the fandom up to speed whereas scene II is laying out all the story foreshadowings and as many Chekov Guns as I can reasonably shove in for now) are completely done and edited; I’m now trying to get to the finish line of scene III which is the more…exciting part of the three scenes (where dragon!Billy, our transmigrated black-bellied scumbag ML, meets knight!Homelander, our black-bellied scumbag shou, for the first time) before I can give an advanced notice on my socials of the week it’ll probably be posted. ✌️

[celestie0]

in holy matriphony | season one masterlist.

gojo satoru x reader [18+] | angst, fluff, smut

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - next door neighbor!gojo x reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency department, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, some choso x reader, some suguru x reader, some crippling debt x reader; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ status. ongoing

ᰔ word count. 113.9k

ᰔ taglist. open

☾·̩͙꙳ ao3 link :: playlist :: header art by @/3aem

chapter index.

ch1. he said yes! congrats!

ch2. you may now kiss the bride

ch3. domestic encounters

ch4. in a mother's eyes

ch5. child's play

ch6. the in-laws

ch7. if you wanna get groceries

ch8. two steps back

ch9. counting sheep

ch10. what if?

[end of season one]

headcanons.

official headcanons pt1. fluff & crack | link

a note from the author. hello! my name is ellie, and this is my second long fic series called 'in holy matriphony' which i began posting in april '24! this started off as such a small lil concept idea trashing on the american healthcare system, and now it's a fullblown fic. i have sooo much planned for this series, so admittedly it will be a long one, but i am so grateful to anyone that tags along for the ride :””) please let me know if i missed any tags or warnings! and for those who may want to know before reading, this series will have a happy ending <3

series tags. #in holy matriphony

[paalove]

But (prompt, if you're inspired) how about GramBlack "didn't know we were dating" trope? I don't know if it'd work, but since Black doesn't look like one who talks about his feelings, and since we see that Gram is very tactile with Black (and he's the only one. I can't imagine anyone else touching Black's head without getting punched), how about Black thinking they are dating and Gram not knowing it? But like, pls let them talk about it and solve it, I like them happy <3 thanks so much!!!

HIIII thanks so much for this prompt that you sent *checks notes* three hundred and seventy years ago, sorry it took so long to get to 😭

this is chapter one of two, will go up on ao3 once chapter 2 is done oops

...

Sitting on his brother’s bed, White picks up the most incongruous thing from his bedside table and looks at it inquisitively. When he turns back to Black with a raised eyebrow, Black grabs the toy motorbike from his hands and puts it back.

“Shut up,” he says.

White didn’t say anything, but he keeps looking at Black. If he hadn’t already known there was something up with it, he would now.

“A present,” Black tells him.

Interesting.

“Shut up, White.”

White still hasn’t said anything. He looks around the apartment, still sitting on the bed, because there might be more clues to the giver of this gift. Black’s shifting on his feet when White looks back at him.

“Nothing else here looks like a present,” he notes. “Is it from mae?”

With a glare, Black bites out, “You know it isn’t.”

Nodding, White hums. Just has to wait him out.

The clock ticks on the wall.

White examines his own fingernails, like he even knows what to look for in his cuticles. He thinks his hands are pretty nicely kept.

“It’s from my faen,” Black eventually admits.

That makes White smile, because he’s embarrassed enough that this has to be someone he feels strongly about; he says, “You’re dating someone? Tell me about them.”

“No.”

He shuffles backwards on the bed, sitting cross-legged, and pats the space next to him while wheedling, “Phi… do you not want me to embarrass you in front of them?”

“He’s the one who’ll embarrass me,” Black mutters, obeying White’s silent command and coming to sit beside him. “You know I’m not embarrassed of you, stop it.”

White does know – he’s doubted just about everything in his life these past couple of months, but he’s never doubted Black’s care for him. It’s that care that had Black pick him up from the airport and bring him to his technically-one-person apartment, after all, despite White’s reminder that he can afford a hotel room.

But that does mean he’s being difficult for no reason, so White says, “Why else won’t you let me meet anyone you know?”

“If I introduce you to him, will you stop asking about everyone else?”

White smiles but has to admit, “Probably not.”

“Well, you aren’t meeting the rest of them.”

…

“Is this a bullet shell?”

Black turns back, grabs White’s arm, and pulls him away from the table he’d been examining. It’s like having a cat – he’s always getting into shit he shouldn’t be. Really, Black isn’t sure why he’s brought White to the garage at all, but here they stand.

He’s managed to keep up one of his promises to himself, at least, because he’s dropped by when Gumpa’s giving Gram some solo training at boxing. No fucking way is White meeting Yok or Sean.

“There,” he points to the training area.

Gram’s shirtless and attempting to dodge the same strike he’s been having trouble with for a week now. Gumpa… may or may not be wearing a shirt.

(Black’s been accused of tunnel vision before.)

As he watches, cataloguing a few areas for critique absently while devoting most of his brain power to Gram’s chest, White’s got a question.

“Which one?”

“The hot one,” he says, which is fucking embarrassing but he hasn’t got a lot of brain power left over for the conversation; it’s also not a lie.

White disagrees, “They’re both hot. Blond or brunet?”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he answers, revolted at the thought that Gumpa might- no. Grudgingly, he clarifies, “Blond.”

With a hum, White answers, “Nice choice. How did you two-“

He’s cut off when Black pinches his elbow – they’ve been spotted, and Gumpa cuts off the spar to bring Gram over.

“This must be White,” he greets, and they probably exchange introductions while Black stares at Gram’s split lip and the blood in his grin.

“Hey Gram,” he says, intelligently.

Gram licks his lips and says, “Thought you weren’t bringing your brother around?”

“So did I.”

As Gram’s laughing warmly, eyes crinkled, the other two turn back to them and Black remembers – right, they’re here for an introduction.

“This is Gram.”

There, that’s enough, right?

White smilingly says, “It’s nice to meet you, Gram. I’ve heard a lot about you,” so it must be enough of an introduction to count.

He feels like he’s run a fucking race for some reason – maybe it’s the whole ‘introducing Gram to the family’ thing, because his mother had been out of his life by the time they started, so he’d never really expected to be doing this, but it makes him feel all… warm, and shit, the way they’re smiling at each other.

Happiness never lasts – the sound of engines arriving outside makes Black realise he’s made an error in his timing.

“White,” he interrupts their conversation, “We need to go-“

Too late.

Sean and Yok enter.

…

The atmosphere around the table is tense.

It shouldn’t be – even Sean and Black don’t normally fight when there’s takeout and beer available, but the situation is a weird one. Gram hadn’t actually realised until the others arrived that they didn’t know about White, but Yok’s exaggerated reaction had made that clear enough.

He’s flattered to be the only one Black trusted as much as Gumpa. Flattered and hopeful that maybe, one day…

Anyway, the atmosphere is tense.

One reason among many that Gram shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t bring it up, but he’s only a man, okay? He hasn’t seen Black much for the past week, and he’s at least known it was because of the brother, but it doesn’t seem like White’s leaving Black’s place any time soon, and… Gram sighs.

Looking to Black’s other side, he sees what Black’s intent on staring at – White’s having a stilted, innocuous conversation with Gumpa while the others make their way through most of the food.

He nudges Black and says, “Hey, can I ask…”

“Huh?” is Black’s only reply, still staring at White.

So he nudges Black again until he turns around.

“What?”

It’s stupid to ask, “With White around, will it be weird for us to,” he gestures between them with a flapping hand so he doesn’t have to say make out on your bed for hours at a time, hoping that Black – smart, good-at-communicating Black – will be able to read it.

He watches Black’s jaw twitch and hopes he hasn’t just talked himself out of that whole arrangement of theirs.

It had been a surprise, the first time – they’d been studying in his room, Gram lying on the bed and saying something he can’t remember, taking his shirt off, and when it was on the floor Black suddenly wasn’t anymore, instead being on the bed straddling Gram’s chest. All the words had drained from his brain as he tried to remember anything that wasn’t how unexpectedly hot that was of Black, and then Black’s lips had been on his, and-

“You’ve still got a room,” Black replies. “And White knows about us.”

With that, Black turns back to stare at his little brother some more. He gives Sean a warning growl; when had Sean started talking to White? He looks guilty and White confused, which is a feeling Gram also has. What the fuck?

He doesn’t know how to reply – why would Black have mentioned their arrangement to White at all? It’s not something they’ve even talked about before.

…

As Black drags Sean away to ‘spar’, Yok silently wishes him luck. It’s his own fault for playing up the flirting after Black noticed, though, so he doesn’t feel too bad.

Gumpa’s off to referee, and Yok says, “You guys want to watch?”

“No,” Gram says quickly, “Why would I want to do that?”

He shrugs; it was just an option.

“You don’t like to watch him fight?” White asks.

That looks like it makes Gram panic, but Yok can’t think of why. It’s better to watch Black fight than be the one he’s fighting, the guy’s a fucking beast… but now that he thinks about it, he’s a bit more gentle when he spars Gram, isn’t he? Yok can’t see why that would make watching any worse, though.

But Gram’s shaking his head and White is humming like that’s an interesting answer, already moving on to his next question.

“How long have you been together?”

[figthefruitfaeth]

no one tells you that 30% of making a fic is just formatting

[liloinkoink]

Lamplight AU

What is Lamplight? Short answer, a DnD/Fantasy Third/Last Life Renchanting AU!

Long answer, here’s 20 Questions, the ficlet meant to introduce the concept.

Medium answer, Ren is a powerful god stuck in the form of living fire. Martyn is his sole follower. Martyn and Ren help free one another from imprisonment by the Watchers and are now traveling the world on a two-man adventure of fond companionship and occasional arson.

This AU has been written as I feel like it with absolutely no regard for chronology. If you have any questions about it feel free to ask! I also have a tag for it, “lamplight au,” which is where any writing, asks, or art go.

I’ll update this post with writing and art as it happens. Writing is organized chronologically, art is organized by artist and as it’s posted.

This AU was planned with the help of @/unexpectedly-haunted, whose designs for Martyn and Ren are linked at the start of the art section!

You can also find an archive of Lamplight on my writing blog, @driflew, under the same tag.

[AU itself is platonic, but ship content gets made for it]

And, for some other fun notes...

The (unofficial) Lamplight fan Discord Server can be found here!!

Martyn replied to my post saying he knows what Lamplight is, which is a wild thing to be able to say.

[Please do not spam the chats or the askboxes of Martyn, Ren, or anyone else with talk of this fic! Don’t need to annoy anyone with it, thank you!]

[Now that it's confirmed Martyn does know what Lamplight is, here are my thoughts on reading it on stream (he can can if he wants!)]

Lamplight writing

(for any works posted on both ao3 and tumblr where there are differences in content, consider ao3 the ‘correct,’ ‘updated,’ or ‘canon’ version. The AO3 versions are better, edited for quality, pacing, and often with extra bits not found in the tumblr versions)

The AO3 series with all works can be found here.

[If you enjoy Lamplight, I have a kofi? Please don’t feel the need send me anything excessive! The option to tip simply exists if you enjoy the series and are feeling generous.]

Canon

Torchlight Arc

Torchlight

[Torchlight short fic: Ren POV] [this scene is also on Ao3, in Moonlight ch2]

Heliography (multi-chapter, complete)

[tumblr preview scene, incl in Heliography ch1]

Lamplight Arc

Strange Traveler (ao3) (tumblr)

From Here to There (incl 20Q and other scenes)

Incident at the Sleeping Hound (ao3) (tumblr)

Winter's Herald (ao3) (tumblr)

Moonlight Arc

Moonlight (multi-chapter, in-progress)

(ch one is also on tumblr, but significant edits were made when it was moved to ao3. i’m leaving the first version here unchanged, just for fun, but be aware it’s different)

Non-Canon

worship the ashes (ship, noncanonical)

featherlight (Treebark Week D2: Light/Dark. ambiguous on both the ship status and the canonical status… anime filler arc status lmao)

somniphobia (ship, noncanonical) (og version is also on tumblr, a fic from taking treebark Lamplight requests: Ren doesn't sleep)

Heat Haze (Treebark Week D4: Warmth/Breeze) (ship, noncanonical)

the only place i don't feel cold (Treebark Week D3/4: Build/Burn, Infernal/Divine) (ship, noncanonical) (og version is also on tumblr, a fic from taking treebark Lamplight requests: God of...)

Leaflight Series (Lamplight Roleswap) [ask about the Leaflight concept]

Cover Me in Roses

Ficlet of a different Lamplight offshoot

Other Writers

Help with plotting the AU has come from my friend Haunted, whose contributions to design, plot, and general function as a rubber duck have been greatly appreciated

Series

Desert Duo subplot series by @/cosmicretribution (Haunted's designs)

crystalline

Boat Boys subplot series by @/boatboysrowout

i said fuck it long ago

Canon-divergent horror series by @/sixteenth-days

so no head?

Oneshots (non canon)

the heart of the pyre by Zeph

striking steel by Apollo

guiding light by Apollo

Devotion of a God by Tide

Trespassers by Tide

Bog Bodies by Tide

Nearly Forgotten by Anpan

idk what to call this by seiber_sel

Lamplight/Leaflight ask by anon

a prayer to a forgotten god by Mab

Ballad of the Dandelion God by Olive

Lamplight Art

if you want to draw Lamplight art, go ahead! i would love to see it! @ me and/or Haunted and i’ll put it here! if i don’t see it, send me a message! and be sure to check out these artists’ work and show them some love!

Haunted’s Lamplight Official™ Martyn design

Haunted’s Lamplight Official™ Ren design (ft. Martyn)

Haunted's Lamplight animatic, FIRE--this is an animatic for the latter half of the fic Torchlight and is really cool!

I hit the fucking link limit so the rest of the art can be found HERE