#the thing is the more we think about it the more memories are coming back and the more sick the whole situation seems

[darkbluekies]

Cannot take what was never meant to leave

Yandere!king OC x fem!fairy!reader

Summary: Edmund walks out in the forest and finds something he never seen before: a tree fairy. Upon learning that he can't take her as long as her tree is there, he does the only thing he can think of.

Warnings: Edmund is a bit more insane than usual, reader is in a lot of pain, kidnapping, basically killing, use of an ax

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Erutan's song "The Willow Maid"!! I have absolutely loved that song for ages, and after seeing PurestarMedia's music video of it on YouTube, I had to write something!! Edmund felt like the perfect fit for it!!

Summer is almost over. He can tell by a slight shift in the winds that colder times are approaching, even though barely any of the trees show any signs of autumn. He can't wait until he can bring out his thicker coat. He likes the colors of it much more.

Ten men he brought with him on his hunt for rabbits. They've decided to go into another part of the forest in hopes of finding anything.

Suddenly. A sound.

“Shh!” Edmund hushes and holds up a hand, signaling the others to stop.

He listens closely. It sounds like humming. It's a tune he has never heard before, but one that feels weirdly familiar — as if he has heard it in a dream or past life.

Quietly, they follow the sound until they reach a field full of small, white flowers. In the middle of the white field stands a tree with dark leaves. A scene taken straight out of one of the paintings hanging on the castle walls. Edmund notices someone sitting by the foot of the tree, resting among the roots. A woman?

The group of men creep closer. The woman is lying on the tree roots, leaning her head against the tree trunk, having a root under her knees for support. She's dressed in a long, white gown reminding Edmund of the small flowers. On her head rests a flower crown made of the very flowers. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth hums. 

A fairy.

One of Edmund’s men steps onto a branch on the floor, which snaps in half and pulls the fairy out of her thoughts. Her eyes snap open, revealing them to be deep and dark — and full of fear. She shoots up from her root and stumbles backwards, hiding behind her tree.

“Who are you?” she asks quickly. “What do you want?”

“You are a fairy”, Edmund says, still in disbelief.

“Yes … what do you want?”

“Have you seen any rabbits around here?”

She peeks out from behind the tree.

“What do you want them?” she asks and seems to notice the rifles hanging over their shoulders. “I'm not assisting you in killing harmless creatures.”

Edmund meets her dark eyes. They're hypnotic.

“You humans are despicable sometimes”, she says. “Killing innocent creatures who haven't done anything to you.”

“If I wouldn't, someone else would — man or animal.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Yeah, we should move on. We have rabbits to hunt.”

He can feel her eyes burn through his back as he walks back over the field of white flowers. He hopes that she will watch him until he disappears into the forest.

“Did you have a good hunt, your majesty?” his secretary asks as Edmund and his ten men come back to the castle.

“Caught a few rabbits”, he answers and smiles, thinking of the memory. “We encountered a fairy.”

They start to walk inside. 

“A fairy?” the secretary asks and holds the door into the castle open for the young king.

“What do you know about fairies?” Edmund asks. 

They walk down the large hall.

“I know that, like humans, there are different types of fairies”, the secretary says. “You found her in the woods, you said?”

Edmund nods. 

“She’s probably a tree fairy”, the secretary continues. 

“Yeah, she was sitting by a tree … almost like it was holding her”, Edmund says, furrowing his dark brows as he thinks about it. 

He holds out his arms as if he was carrying a woman, imagining her knees bending over his right arm and her back supported by his left … her head resting on his shoulder — like she had done to the tree bark. 

They walk into Edmund’s office, closing the door behind them. 

“What do you know about tree fairies?” Edmund asks and throws himself in his chair. 

“I know that they live in the woods and that they are connected to a particular tree. They feed off of sap from the tree and flower nectar — and if their tree bears fruit they eat that too.”

“What happens if they eat something else? Like meat? Or potatoes?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.”

“Would it kill them, do you think?”

“Perhaps. What I do know kills a tree fairy is killing their tree.”

Edmund looks up at him. “What?” 

“Their life source is connected to their tree. They live as long as their tree does.”

“So you’re saying that a fairy can become hundreds of years? Thousands even?”

“Could be.”

“Interesting.” He sighs and throws his head back. “You should have seen that thing. Before she noticed us she looked so … peaceful. She was resting and humming a tune. When she realized that we were there she flew up and hid behind her tree. All of that seemed so young and naive. Her tree wasn’t that large either. I think I’ve found myself a young fairy.”

“The fairy seems to interest you.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a fairy. I didn’t believe that they actually existed. But now, I’ve found one. I think that I’m going to make her my wife.”

The next day, he returns with his ten men and his secretary, dressed in his autumn coat. On the way to the glade, Edmund picks a few flowers with the biggest nectars he can find, hoping that they will be a good enough gift. He is going to ask her to marry him. 

She is walking around the white flowers, picking up a few and putting them in her flower crown. She looks up as they come. This time she doesn’t look as startled, but there’s something wary in her eyes. 

She’s beautiful and delicate, there’s no denying. Edmund needs her. Every fiber of his body needs her. She needs to be his wife, to be the mother to his children. He refuses to leave without her. 

“What brings you back?” she asks as Edmund gets close enough, but doesn’t sound like she wants to know. 

He can tell that she wants to get back to her tree. She gives it quick glimpses and takes small steps back towards it. 

Edmund holds out the flowers towards her. She hesitates before taking them out of his hand. Her fingertips barely graces his skin. Her touch is humanlike, kind and delicate. 

“Thank you”, she says and smells them softly. 

He smiles. He wants nothing more than to hug her, to hold what belongs to him in his arms, but he has to ask the question first.

“I want you to marry me”, Edmund says. 

The fairy drops the flowers in shock. They disappear underneath the small, white ones. Edmund furrows his brows.

“Marry you?” the fairy repeats, shocked. “How could I possibly-? No, no, I shall not.”

Edmund stares at her, eyes darkening, unable to understand how anyone could turn down his proposal. Women would travel far and wide to hear those words come from his mouth, and this fairy — who does she think she is — doesn’t even think twice before rejecting him. It should crush him, but instead it has the opposite effect. He will not leave without his fairy. 

He looks over his shoulder, at his ten men. “Seize her.”

Just as the ten men are about to grab the fleeing girl, his secretary grabs his shoulder. 

“Your majesty, don’t”, he says quickly. “That won’t be possible. She can’t leave the glade.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund scoffs.

“She’s connected to that tree.” He nods towards the tree in the middle of the field. “She can’t leave it.”

Edmund glares at the tree. That damn tree. The woman runs through the flowers towards her tree, hugging it tightly. Edmund finds it humorous how she thinks a simple tree could protect her. He could do it a hundred times better, will do it a hundred times better. 

He sees how she sinks down by the tree, huddled up by the tree bark, crying. Soon, she will search for comfort in him, not a damn tree. 

“We can’t take her”, the secretary says. “I don’t know what would happen if we tried, but as long as that tree is there, we can’t remove her.”

Edmund doesn’t answer as he walks back into the forest. The ten men follow him. His secretary keeps a distance. Edmund feels like he could explode with anger. He had pictured himself leaving the forest with his new fiance hand in hand. But he will not give up. He will get his fairy. 

He returns a third time the next day. This time he’s by himself … and this time, he’s brought an ax. Determined to take her with him. She will be his wife. This time, he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. He will not walk away empty handed. The thought consumes him as he marches through the forest, towards the glade. 

He can see her lying in the same spot he had seen her the first time. This time, she’s not humming. She opens her eyes as he gets nearer and jumps to her feet as her eyes fall on the sharp edge of the ax. 

“No!” she screams in pure panic. “No, what are you doing?! Don’t!”

Edmund lifts his hands and lands a blow on the bark, cutting away a piece. To his right, the fairy screams in agonizing pain and clutches her heart. He continues to hit the tree. The woman continues to scream. She cries in pain. 

It takes longer than he expects. He takes his eyes off the deep cut in the tree and turns them towards her. She’s lying between the roots, curled up with her hands pressed against her heart, crying and screaming. 

“Please stop!” she screams and sobs so that her entire body trembles. “Y-You’ll kill me! Please s-stop, please! I’m begging y-you!”

If he continues to hit the tree, she will die. 

Edmund will have to bring a piece of the tree with him and replant it in his castle’s garden so that it doesn’t die — so that she doesn’t die. He continues to chop. She continues to scream, cry and plead for him to stop. 

A loud creaking echoes through the air. He watches as the tree bends in half and falls. The fairy stumbles upon weak legs and hugs her fallen tree, sobbing. 

With the ax, Edmund manages to dig up root systems of the tree. He holds it in his left hand and grabs the fairy’s wrist tightly with his right. He yanks her up on her feet. 

“You belong to me now”, he says. 

She only sobs for an answer. She tries reaching out for her tree, but Edmund pulls her with him. She stumbles. He drags her into the forest. 

“Please …”, she sobs. “Please …”

He doesn’t know what she begs for. The tree is fallen, he can’t undo what he has done. 

“Please, I’m in so much pain”, she pants. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t have time for it. He has to get her to the castle, where he can lock her in, so that she can’t escape out to the forest again. 

He can feel her collapse. Edmund gasps and watches her lie lifeless on the ground. He shoves the tree roots in his pocket and hurries to check her pulse. She’s still living, for now. Edmund stresses to pick her up. Her limp body rests in his arms as he runs out of the forest, towards the castle. 

He runs into the castle yard, into the hallways and out to the garden. He lays the fairy down on the grass and hurried to dig a hole with his hands. Oh, how he hates the feeling of dirt under his nails. He can’t think about that now. 

He places the root in the hole and covers it with the soil. Edmund runs over to the fountain, cups his hands and fills it with water. He runs back and forth until enough water has been poured over it. He feels for a pulse on the fairy’s neck. There’s still a faint pulsation underneath his fingers. He removes his coat and places it on the ground beside the tree root before lifting the fairy onto it. He caresses her face. 

“You actually got her.”

He looks over his shoulder at his secretary. He stands there, looking at them in disbelief and horror. 

“Is she dead?” he asks. 

“No, not yet”, Edmund replies  breathlessly. “I brought a piece of the tree here and I have replanted it. She should survive. But we need flowers — lots of flowers. And anything else a fairy might eat. We need to nurture her back to life.”

“I’ll prepare some honey water, I think that should be drinkable.”

Edmund sits by the fairy, waiting patiently. 

Hours go by. She doesn’t move. Barely breathing. Edmund wonders if he she has fallen into some kind of limbo, where the tree is barely alive, and so is she. If the tree doesn’t survive, neither will she. He has to nurture both. 

He feeds the tree water and nutrient dense soil and tries to pour droplets of honey water into the fairy’s mouth. Sometimes she responds by swallowing softly, and sometimes let it drip out of her mouth. 

Hours turn to days. Days to weeks. As the tree slowly grows roots in Edmund’s soil and become stronger, so does the fairy. Edmund doubts that she will ever become as strong as she was before. The tree will never be in its full glory again, and neither will she. She can’t walk, her body is too weak to move more than a few minutes. He lets her rest by her short stub. When he can’t stay with her, he watches from afar, from one of the windows. She’s always curled up, hugging her stomach as if she’s got cramps. The poor thing never smiles anymore. 

He holds a glass of warm honey water in his hands as he walks out to the petty excuse of a tree. It'll take years to become as big as it originally was, but it will never be the original tree.

“Hi”, Edmund says softly and sits down beside the fairy, holding the cup to her dry lips.

She doesn't seem to care what she gets fed anymore. Maybe she hopes that it will kill her.

In a sense, Edmund has killed the fairy.

She drinks slowly.

“I don't know what to feed you when winter comes”, he says. “I have harvested a lot of nectar and sap, but I don't know how long that will be good for.”

A tear runs down her cheek. Edmund wipes it carefully.

“My fairy, don't worry”, he whispers reassuringly. “I will figure it out.”

He wishes that she could respond, but he hasn't heard her voice since that day she screams in pain — when he killed her.

He stands up, gives her forehead one last kiss before walking back inside. In the beginning, he used to have guards watch over the garden to make sure that she wouldn't run off, but he realized that as long as that tree is there, she isn't going anywhere.

[starry-fame]

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don’t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that’s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Skin

---

‐‐‐

Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, angst, bitter ex, major friend group dynamic shift

Category:F/M

Fandom: Outerbanks (OBX), (Netflix TV series)

Relationships: JJ Maybank x f reader

Summary: Kie's slowly getting under your skin especially when you're JJ's new girlfriend

Based on recent experiences, and the song skin by Sabrina Carpenter has been stuck in my head for like 6 months on top of the recent experiences...

---

**"Maybe we could’ve been friends, if I met you in another life…"**

The thought crosses my mind as I stand in the middle of the living room, fiddling with my phone, and waiting for JJ to come back from the kitchen. The memory of Kiara's expression when she found out about us is still fresh, lingering like a bitter taste I can’t wash away. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but I guess things never go as planned.

“You okay?” JJ's voice pulls me from my thoughts as he enters the room, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He’s balancing two mugs of coffee in his hands, making his way toward me like everything in the world is perfectly fine.

I nod, forcing a smile back. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He hands me one of the mugs, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact is warm, grounding me in the moment. "About Kie?"

I glance away. He knows me too well.

“It’s hard not to think about her,” I admit, sitting down on the worn-out couch. “She was—no, she *is* my friend. I hate that it feels like I’m betraying her.”

JJ sighs and sits next to me, his arm resting casually behind my shoulders. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She’ll come around. It’s just gonna take time.”

**"I’m happy and you hate it, hate it, oh…"**

I wish I could believe him. It’s not that I don’t want to be with JJ—it’s that being with him comes with a whole mess of complications I didn’t see coming. Kie and JJ had always had this unspoken connection. At least, that’s what everyone thought, including me. And then I fell for him. Hard.

Now, it’s like every glance from Kiara is a reminder that I’ve taken something she didn’t realize she wanted until it was too late.

“I don’t think she’s ever going to be okay with it,” I confess quietly. “With us.”

JJ chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Well, that’s too bad. Because I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

His words make my heart flutter, even though the doubt still lingers in the back of my mind. I know he means it—he’s serious about us, about this. But how do I move forward when the person I care about most next to JJ feels like I’m rubbing this relationship in her face?

**"You can try to get under my, under my, under my skin, while he’s on mine."**

I take a deep breath and lean into him, letting his warmth seep into me. I want to focus on him, on this moment, but the guilt weighs heavy on my chest.

“You think she’ll really get over it?” I ask softly, not really expecting an answer but needing to hear him say it anyway.

JJ turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against my temple. “Eventually. Or maybe not. But either way, I’m not giving this up.” His voice is firm, and I can feel the truth in it.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to silence the doubt. There’s something undeniably special between us—something that wasn’t there with anyone else. And maybe that’s why it feels so complicated. Maybe that’s why Kiara reacted the way she did when she found out.

**"I wish you knew that even you can’t get under my skin, if I don’t let you in…"**

“It’s not just Kie,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “It’s everything. The looks. The comments.”

JJ pulls back slightly, his blue eyes searching mine. “You mean from the others? John B? Pope?”

I nod. “They keep acting like this is something we should’ve told them about sooner. Like we should’ve asked for permission or something.”

JJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it’s complicated with the Pogues, but at the end of the day, they’re gonna support us. Maybe they’re just weirded out because they didn’t see it coming. But who cares? This is about *us*, not them.”

His words are reassuring, but the sting of Kiara’s reaction still sits heavy in my chest. When she found out, the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. She hadn’t said much, but the silence spoke volumes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so torn between two people in my life.

“You don’t think I’m a terrible friend, do you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

JJ tilts his head, his expression softening as he looks at me. “No. You’re not a terrible friend. You just…fell in love. And sometimes, that happens in ways people don’t expect.”

**"And I’m not asking you to let it go, but you’ve been telling your side, so I’ll be telling mine."*

It’s true. Kiara hasn’t exactly been shy about expressing her feelings on the matter, even if it’s been in subtle ways—pointed comments, sideways glances, and the awkward tension that fills the room whenever the three of us are together. But I’ve kept my side of the story mostly to myself, too afraid to make things worse.

“You know she called me the other night?” I say, breaking the silence.

JJ raises an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

“She just…wanted to know why. Why *you*? Why now?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his jaw tensing slightly as he processes my words. “And what did you tell her?”

I shrug, feeling the weight of that conversation settle over me again. “I told her the truth. That it just…happened. That I didn’t plan on falling for you, but I did.”

JJ’s lips quirk into a small smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “And how did she take that?”

I let out a soft laugh, though it’s more out of exasperation than amusement. “She didn’t really respond. Just said she needed time to figure things out.”

He leans back on the couch, pulling me closer into his side. “Then let her have her time. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

**"You can try to get under my, under my, under my skin… but he’s all mine."**

The thing is, I know he’s right. I know that no matter what happens with Kiara or anyone else, this—what we have—it’s real. And I can’t let their opinions, their judgment, get in the way of that. JJ is mine, and I am his. That’s all that should matter.

“I just don’t want to lose her,” I admit softly, resting my head against his shoulder. “Or anyone.”

“You won’t,” JJ murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “And even if things are rocky for a while, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

I close my eyes, letting the comfort of his words wash over me. Maybe it won’t always be easy. Maybe there will always be a part of Kiara that resents me for this. But I can’t let that hold me back from being happy.

**"You can’t get under my skin, if I don’t let you in."**

And I won’t let her. Not anymore.

I pull back slightly to look at JJ, his face soft in the dim light of the room. “I love you, you know.”

His eyes light up with that mischievous glint I’ve come to adore, and he leans in, his lips brushing mine. “I know. And I love you too.”

For the first time in a while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[randomfoggytiger]

If you had to put a number on it how many times do you think Mulder and Scully slept together in season 7? And, if you are so inclined what episodes would they have slept together in? Asking for a friend (me) 😊

The answer is probably "frequently." XDDD My reading of canon points to post-Millennium shenanigans.

But I believe we can pick up purposefully placed clues from Scully: she is late (or last to arrive) in Rush and The Goldberg Variation and The Great Maleeni-- which is a marked change from their routine; meaning, imo, she had to drive back to her apartment, get properly dressed, then catch a flight later-- and she's often shown crashing wherever Mulder lands-- all things's opening sequence, Hollywood A.D.'s ending, Requiem's motel room scene, etc.

Furthermore, I believe that Mulder and Scully spent more nights at his apartment than hers due to to his isolatory and her level of comfortability there. (And it's just brimming with MSR memories and moments, which makes it thematically more important.) As mentioned above, we see her gravitate to his apartment more than her own, particularly in all things (which was the first on-screen confirmation); and Scully is the type to go to him rather than call up and ask him to come to her. Gravitating of her own accord to his place would be a measure of half-admittance-- effectively appeasing her own sense of independence (and shame at fessing up to weakness.)

But post all things, all bets are off; and we see that increased level of "who honestly cares about hiding anymore" when they arrive at the office, late, together, and when they shack up shamelessly in the same motel room because Scully feels sick and knows Mulder's a bed warmer. (The latter's script even notes that they arrived with extra hurry to the next morning's crime scene; meaning, they had to rush to get there on time. Which could point to them either having sex that morning or choosing to sleep in-- or Mulder sneakily letting her sleep in-- because Scully was still a little unwell.)

I will note: I'm further bolstered in my assertion by their behavior in Season 8 (gasp, horror.) Wrote a post about it here, but the first time we see Mulder using a key to Scully's place is at the end of Existence (now that they have a family) while Scully is shown openly crashing at his apartment, heartsick, from day one (Within.) Season 8, out of necessity (the baby's arrival and DD's looming second absence), began the transition away from Mulder's place to Scully's (Three Words is the last time we see his apartment, if I recall correctly.) We watched him always dropping by her apartment (Empedocles, Alone) and eagle-eyed his toothbrushes and shirts (Essence)-- which subtly pointed to that transition-- yet, the important part of their history at Hegel's Place was never truly resolved. It's a shame that canon dismissed it out of hand without a proper goodbye. ...But, again, that might be selling the writers and actors short: Mulder himself was detached from apartment 42 in Three Words (only noting "It's clean" and standing or sitting everywhere as compactly and insecurely as possible); and trekked from Alexandria to Georgetown constantly of his own free will. There just... wasn't enough on-screen to justify that write-off. (Add it to the list of micro-changes that weren't allowed to be explored. >:////)

I hope this satisfies~. But if not, I open the floor: does anyone want to take a crack at anon's question?

[orphiclovers]

Hear me out about yjh and blondes: 999 yjh x Uriel

YES I'm so into this pairing you have no idea. and lol about the blonde thing. yjh has a type.

I've talked about them some under the tag #999yjhuri (ship name pending...) so check that out but yeah I love them they're canon to me! I don't even know where to start talking about them because I have so much to say

The thing is that Uriel loved her captain so much. 999 is the only turn we know of where she was one of Yoo Joonghyuk's companions and it's sooo significant to that round specifically because she is an ANGEL and a constellation of the Absolute Good system!

Uriel saw this one man who sacrificed everything for his companions and decided she wanted to fight by his side. He was the 'good' she saw in the world. And then she had to stand by helplessly and watch as his soul and body withered from the outer world covenant. and see up close as with the same noble sacrifice she fell in love with he destroyed himself.

But they thought they could make it to the end of the scenarios at least, they were so close, but then at the very last moment he DIED IN HER ARMS!!! And she lost her mind with grief and swore eternal vengeance upon the one who took him away.

The good in her soul died with him! She who was the righteous 'absolute good' angel of Eden for thousands of years was so broken by his death she chose to become evil, to become the very thing she swore to destroy

And of course this neatly ties into spuri, the one who was the object of her single minded obsession for thousands of years. Even to the point when it made no sense, when she learned who he was, it didn't matter because the bloody path of vengeance was all she had and all that kept her alive.

And then there's the huge complicated mess of what SP thinks about 999 Uriel. His careful neutrality when she attempts to kill him and burns down his forest with all the inhabitants. The was he doesn't react because he thinks he is reaping what he sowed. He says to Kim Dokja that this is the consequences of his mistake - sees her as a divine punishment for his sins in the 999th regression rather than as a person who wants to kill him

And at the same time in his mind there exists 999, who, quote off the top of my head, 'sighs in lamentation at the sun' when she attacks N'gai. 999 is COMPLICATED and I won't get into his insane psychology in this post but in short, he feels pity for her and all the rest of his companions who turned into outer gods (and also SP...) but makes the frankly correct decision to not come back to them even though he technically COULD, because it would cheapen everything they went through. There is no way to turn back time and save your fallen companion, even when there is. He KNOWS they live in his memory and that's why he can never return (kim dokja anyone...). He does his best to stay dead, even in his afterlife.

And, stay with me here, there's the love triangle of it all.

Both Uri and SP wanted to save 999 but neither of them could. And she despises SP for killing the love of her life but they both wanted the same thing, for 999 to be happy!

I think about SPuri in the post epilogue OD household. Even though Uriel accepted that 999 wouldn't come back and gave up her futile revenge quest against SP, there's still lingering awkwardness and tension there. After hating him for so long it's difficult to act normal around him. I imagine she treats him with civil distance.

And then, when SP does something small that reminds her of 999, she has to look away to remind herself that 999 didn't want to come back and to respect his decision, berating herself for mistaking SP for the man she loves, which is disrespectful to them both.

Even though SP didn't often think of 999 and himself as the same person, I think spending all his time around the 999th turns companions + having 999s memories in his head would inevitably bring out old habits and that side of him more. To all around bittersweet feelings from the outer gods, not just Uriel

[capr1pengu1n]

So let's all pretend that we are undead

Summary: After an encounter with something you're sure wasn't human, you come to find that he can't seem to keep himself away from you

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), vampire au, so typical vampire things (vampire lore is whatever i say it is), choking, fingering, dom!Edward, power play, marking, stalker behaviour

Words: 4.6k

Notes: So after the lovely @adhdnursegoat posted her amazing vampire edward fic (which you all should read cause it's so delicious), i remembered i'd posted a vampire au fic on ao3 ages ago and never posted it on here, so here it is. I edited it so it flows better with how i write currently.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hairs bristle on the back of your neck as you walk your standard commute home, the physiological response a frighteningly normal part of your life for the past couple of weeks. You keep walking, one foot in front of the other as the wind lightly blows your skirt around your thighs. Out of the corners of your eyes, shadows move and twist into alleyways and darkened shop windows under the moonlight.

The feeling of being watched is something quite new to you. Of course, you were once a child cowering under the blankets at night, fear emanating from that corner of your room that was just a bit too dark, a bit too empty. However, the feeling had naturally dissipated once you reached adulthood. You grew up, realised no monsters were lurking in the shadows, or creatures hiding beneath your bed ready to feast on your ankles. At least, that's what you thought. But now, since you'd met him, you felt you were always the subject of someones intense gaze.

Thinking about the first time you met him, was it even a him? It made your head grow fuzzy and unfocused. You distinctly remembered the panic you felt after missing the last bus, the biting chill of the night air as you walked back, the tight feeling of your shoes and the planning to return them as they weren’t fitting right. The pre-occupied thoughts must have led you to take a wrong turn, but after that the memory feels wrong; like a tv full of static occasionally getting a flash of cable network. You remember a sort of warmth, a hand? Maybe, you think something must have pushed you. But what you mainly remember is the terrible ache in your neck the morning after, how groggy and light headed you'd felt. You shake your head and continue to press on, the faded memory won't help you get home after all. Although for a reason you can't quite place, the colour green won't leave your mind’s eye.

A clatter causes you to turn around, your heart jumping to your throat at the loud noise. False alarm, you watch as the empty pepsi can rolls sadly along the pavement. You get your phone out to entertain yourself until the screen flickers and the battery dies. You start to slightly panic now; you knew you’d charged it so there’s no way it should be out of power this quickly. As the streetlamps flicker too, you increase your pace. You’ve watched enough horror films to know you don't want to hang around when weird things start happening, so you maintain a quick stride, ducking through shortcuts and ignoring what you thought are footsteps behind you on multiple occasions.

“I think you dropped something.”

Before you register the question, you feel something grab your arm hard enough to have you stumbling. Your head spins around to face your attacker, ready to fight. He's tall, easily able to overpower you as you're pushed back against the wall and your face tilted up towards him. He looks…human? What an odd thing for you to think, it’s not like he can be anything else. Glasses frame his admittedly handsome face, and your eyes dart to the tailored suit that clings to him in a dark shade of green; the more you look at it, the more your mind seemingly feels fuzzy, so you opt to stare into the pools of his eyes instead.

You feel the blood pumping throughout your entire body, the nervous twitch of your fingers as your mind races. You want to run, to scream, to stay and find out what exactly the man before you wants. He smiles, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes, gazing down at you in what could only be described as fascination. “Shhh, don’t fret” he whispers, the cadence somehow putting you more at ease and making your body feel weightless.

“What- what do you want?”

He seemingly laughs at that, like the mere thought of you attempting a conversation with him was somehow amusing, but he divulges you.

“I have come to apologise; I can’t help but think I-“ he pauses, “over-exerted you last time we met.”

You go to explain that you’ve never met him before, but like a tidal wave it comes crashing back to you. It was him. He had done something, left that mark on your neck and had you deliriously waking up inside your apartment with no clue how you came to arrive there. Now, all you can visualise in your mind’s eye when you think about that night is the dark green that adorns his figure.

“Clever girl, I knew you’d remember. Although I admit I was not the most gentlemanly presence that night.”

While his words imply that he's trying to apologise, his tone carries no such weight.

“Someone as delicate as you all alone, you’re lucky it was me who found you.”

Scrambling in your mind, you manage to crawl out of the haze he seemingly has you under to demand an answer to a question that has plagued you you. What happened that night? But all he says in reply was “I was hungry.”

Before you can hope to say another word, he softly brings his hand up to your jaw, tracing down your neck until he reaches the marks he left.

“They’ve healed well” he breathes; his voice so soft you could barely hear it. “I suppose it’s too soon to drink from you again, I do want you to remain intact.”

You should be scared, should be screaming for help and fighting him off, but you aren't. You don't want to, why do you want to be his captive? While you don't understand who, or what, he is, you somehow know that he doesn't want to hurt you. Instead, all you have to contend with is the embarrassing realisation that you have been pressing your thighs together the whole time he spoke, his voice vibrating through you as his touch sends little jolts all around your body. His eyes flit down to your thighs, and your whole body seems to shift under his gaze.

“Such an eager little thing” he muses, “I wasn’t expecting such a response, but it is indeed welcome”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and when he places his hand on your thigh you can't stop yourself from rocking forward. That motion causes a real laugh from him, a noise deep and inhuman, something that in any other situation probably would have sent shocks of anxiety through you but instead sends you deeper into your own depravity. But he withdraws his hand, and takes a deliberate step back away from you. Confusion sweeps across your face, although his remains impassive.

“No, if I am to take you it will not be in an alleyway like a common whore.”

Your face flushes as the reality of what you had just been so eager for him to do sets in, you don't even know this man’s name yet you were so willing to have him touch you so intimately.

“Go home pretty girl, I’ll announce myself when the time is right”

His tone leaves no room for negotiation as he moves to walk away, not before stopping to utter “My name is Edward, since you were wondering.”

You get the sense he already knows yours, despite never giving it. You blink and he's gone, he hadn’t walked away, he was simply gone. Dissipated into thin air like a blow of smoke. So, you start to walk home yet again, body still aching and your mind reeling at the encounter you’d just had.

It's a few days until you have an encounter with him again. The hour is late, although this time thankfully you're safe in your apartment, having finished your depressing routine of re-watching your favourite show alone with a quick dinner you’d prepared. You're just starting to doze off on the sofa when the knock comes at your door. Freezing, you turn towards the door and listen again. Another knock comes, loud and imposing. You weren’t expecting visitors, so shyly you get up to look through the peephole but nobody sees to be there. Opening the door, you jump when you see him, Edward, staring at you from the hallway.

“Mind if I come in?” he inquires, and something about the way he speaks makes you want to say yes to anything.

You manage to shake that disturbing feeling but stammer out a yes and step aside for him to enter. He looks the same as when you’d saw him last, his pristine suit spotless save for a small dot of red staining the crisp white of his shirt. He walks straight into your living room, looking around in feigned curiosity while you awkwardly pick at your sleeve. What were you even meant to say to him?

“Have you been thinking of me?” he asks, and stares deeply at your shocked expression. You hadn’t expected him to say something so blunt, so you change the subject to save yourself the embarrassment of admitting you had.

“Who are you? Why are you- “

“Why am I here? My dear I thought you’d be happy, after all it was you who was so desperate for my personal attention when we last spoke was it not?” He replies, the smugness present in his tone.

You know you have no way of avoiding the inevitable, shameful memories pouring through as you recall just how horny he’d made you with just a few simple touches. Although the rationality thankfully starts to come back to you, as you still hadn’t had a clear answer as to what happened to you during that previous encounter.

“I suppose I’ll lay your suspicions to rest; I can see they’ve been plaguing you.” He starts, ignoring your shocked expression as he seemingly reached into your mind and pulled out the interrogative you’d been thinking of. “When I first laid eyes on you, the hunger I had been experienced increased tenfold, I needed to have you in my arms while I drained the blood from your neck”

Now you really are speechless, the cold tone in which he admits to such an act causes a chill to run up your spine. It was so…inhuman. You should laugh in his face at such a story, but your thoughts go hazy and you find yourself accepting his speech as fact. As he speaks, he walks closer to you, and when you crane your head to look at him, his neutral expression can't quite hide the darkness in his eyes. 

“And so, I did. I bit into you and you satiated me. It’s been a while since my prey was so happy, even through the daze of your vision.” Amusement bleeds through his cadence as he recalls the memory of you pliant in his hands, reaching up to once again trace the mark left on your neck, now nearly healed.

“What the hell are you?”

The sound of his uncanny laugh reaches your ears once more, deep and unsettling. Instead of answering, he leans closer to your neck, his hot breath brushing against the mark he left. Tense, you close your eyes and brace for pain that never comes. Instead he simply kisses the spot, causing you to shiver and making him hum in appreciation.

“Tell me you want me.” He demands, “Do that and I will have you experiencing pleasures your fragile mind cannot hope to quantify.”

You can't stop the noise that rips from your throat even if you'd have tried, and despite any self-preservation you may have, you nod sheepishly.

“I said tell me, sweet thing.”

“I want you.”

“Good choice.”

He pushes you against the wall and you await his next rough movement, but instead he kisses at your neck, leaving little marks in his wake, and making you gasp at the coldness of his lips. He holds a tight grip on your hips, keeping you still and where he wants you, so all you can do is stand there and take his teasing. You feel something sharp as he drags what you guess are his fangs along your neck down towards your collarbones, your loose shirt allowing him access as he continues to leave his mark on your fragile skin.

“Do you have any idea,” He drawls against your shoulder, “how hard it is to hold myself back from ravaging you? Ever since that night, my desires have been plagued by you.”

You try to rock against him at his words but his grip remains firm.

“To think some mortal girl could overtake my thoughts like this.” The mixture of resentment and lust was clear in his voice, pulling away to look at you before grabbing your neck with his hand. You stand there, at the complete mercy of this man, this creature who could destroy you so easily, and it scares and exhilarates you in equal measure. But those thoughts come to an end when he finally kisses you roughly. Like a symphony, everything in your body seems to sing in delight, your eyes almost rolling back as the ecstasy of his lips on yours overtakes you. Maintaining the grip on your neck, his other hand makes its way down to your hips and up under your shirt. With every trace of his ice-cold fingertips up your torso, he leaves goosebumps in his wake and your body trembles. 

“Such a gorgeous thing.” he rasps, inches away from your lips. “So eager for my touch.”

You can only nod in response and grip on to the lapels of his jacket. You have never felt such burning desire in your life; the more you look in his eyes, the more the ache between your thighs intensifies. 

“Come now, let’s continue in more comfortable surroundings.”

He pulls away and leads you to your bedroom, you're so overcome with desire you fail to notice how he knows the layout of your apartment without you telling him. Before you can ponder that, you're sprawled on your back upon your bed, with him towering over you like the apparition of a god. He traces his hand over your body before lifting your shirt slightly to fully expose you to his gaze.

“I feed your anger, and I sicken your desire to satisfy me with every look, what am I?”

It takes you a moment to process what he says, but you're in no sense to try and decipher a riddle. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind, more so wanting to tell you the answer himself, proving his intellect.

“Envy, my dear. When I look at your body it makes me long for the warmth a mortal can provide.”

“You really aren’t human, are you?” you manage to stammer out, which awards you a low laugh from him.

“No. No I am not, although it doesn’t seem to be affecting you negatively now does it? I think you like it.”

He smiles then, a wicked grin that can only be described as a predator smiling at its prey. “Is that true? What a foolish little girl you are, getting aroused at the power of another being. Someone who could tear you apart.”

As he says the words, static jolts through your body making you let out a whimper and push against nothing. You look at him and he revels in your reaction, before the same sensation wracks through you. It's like you've had the air sucked from your lungs, you gasp and writhe as he commands your body without even touching you. But it isn't enough.

“Please- “

“Hm? Is there something you want my dear?”

After the third time he sends electric through seemingly your soul, you relent; you beg for him to touch you, to hurt you, to give you anything other than the blissful torture he was subjecting you to.

“If you insist.” is all he remarks callously before getting on the bed with you, ripping your underwear off with a hidden strength and pushing your skirt up, before lowering himself until he's eye level with your dripping cunt. The lewd position makes you embarrassed, but when he licks a stripe up you, your thoughts turn to mush and your head falls back. He repeats the motion before focusing on your clit, sucking while he grips onto your thighs. You can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips as he continues to please you with his mouth. Such divine pleasure coming from a creature shrouded in malevolent power makes the sensations so visceral, so intense. Bringing a hand to his hair, you attempt to shift your hips upward to feel more of his tongue but he keeps you firmly pressed into the mattress.

“You taste delightful.” He states against you, the vibration pleasantly shooting up your body. He continues to lick circles around your clit, and you gasp when you feel one of his fingers teasing your entrance. “Ask for more and I’ll give it to you, in abundance.”

So, you do. You beg for more in a way you didn’t think possible from you, sounding so desperate to your own ears. Looking down at him, you see the sadistic glint in his eyes at the way you sound, it's clear he was reveling in the power he has over you.

Luckily, he divulges your request, pushing a finger inside you; the coldness of it makes you whine and once again you attempt to shift under his grip. He ignores you, moving in and out until he feels you're ready enough for him to add a second one. All the while he continues to lavish your clit with his tongue, giving you an ecstasy that leaves your body ignited with lust. You need more, you can't take anymore. It's too much and not enough all at once.

Your pitiful cries seem to spur him on, thrusting his fingers a bit faster and crooking them just right to have your eyes rolling back into your skull. Over and over again, he has you at his mercy and you adore every second. To think you’d found out this man, this thing wasn’t human and in the same encounter offered yourself and your body willingly to him scared and excited you in one single warped wave of pleasure. He starts to gently suck on your clit once again, his fingers thrusting faster and rougher into your soaked cunt. You know it won't be long before you come undone beneath him, the prediction coming true as you feel it build inside you. Just like before he seems to once again enter your mind and know what you're thinking.

“Are you close already? My my how desperate you truly are, do you want to cum?”

You nod eagerly; your vision hazy as something seems to overtake your brain like a blanket atop a candle. You hear him speak again, but not just through your ears but through your mind.

“Submit to me, become mine and I will grant you the pleasure you crave.”

There's no other option, you have to say yes and you know you want nothing more. So you offer yourself to him fully, claiming to be his, watching as he seemingly comes alive; his fingers moving impossibly quick and something like colour appearing on his cheeks.

“Then cum.”

With his permission you let go, crying out his name as fireworks seemingly explode in your entire body. Squeezing your eyes shut, you can't control the frenzied movement of your body as it thrusts up into him. His grip on your thigh had loosened, allowing you to ride out your frantic pleasure as it seemingly lasts for an eternity. When you finally come back down from the heavens you're breathing sharply, opening your eyes to see Edward rising slightly from his position. You barely have time to think before he leans forward and bites your inner thigh. A sharp pain rushes through you as you look down in shock, seeing him lap up the blood that trickles from the wound; your thigh now has the exact same mark which was on your neck and despite both your morality and post-orgasm haze, your cunt throbs at the sight of him drinking up your blood.

“It seems I couldn’t control myself.” He states matter-of-factly, wiping a trace of blood from his lips with his finger. He then looks at you with an expression you can't read, before leaning over you and placing the finger in your mouth. Without thinking you suck the bloodied finger clean, staring at his eyes which darkened at your actions.

“Good girl.”

It had been the only time thus far that he’d praised your actions, which leads to you flushing and turning your head away. He brings you back to facing him with a hand on your jaw.

“You’re so easy to read, I hardly need to comb through your mind to know what you’re thinking.”

You stare at him, unsure as to how to vocalise your feelings. You settle on asking him how he can read your mind, which results in him smirking slightly.

“Reading your mind? What a simplistic way to put it. But I suppose if that’s the language it takes for you to understand, yes people like me can do that with ease.”

You feel a little embarrassed at the condescending way he speaks to you, although it isn't long before you forget all about it when you feel him push you so you're on your back once again. You look up at him, before he captures your lips in a fierce kiss once again. Each time he does this, it always strikes you just how cold his skin is to the touch.

“Now,” he starts, “I will take you properly, hm?”

You're a little shocked at how bluntly he says it, but you nod regardless. As he gets you in position, that same clouding of your mind happens as it had earlier; the weight of something pressing on your thoughts, making you feel so desperate for his attention, his touch, his anything.

With a gasp from your lips, you feel him enter you, a whine escaping your lips at the sensation. Grabbing on to his shoulders, you feel the air be drawn from your lungs as he pulls out and thrusts into you harshly. 

“You feel…divine” he manages to say into your ear, before his thrusts become slower. He traces his hand down your body, grabbing at your tits before growling slightly and ripping your top completely off; you’d been so caught up in what happened you’d forgot you were still wearing it. With every slow thrust you almost feel your sanity slipping away more and more, your fingernails digging in more and more to his shoulders.

“How does it feel? To have a…creature so superior to you inside you? He whispers, the pride in his voice suffocating. Despite his narcissism, you can't help but whine and tell him how good everything feels, not quite being able to articulate the pleasure he was giving you through more than just his physical touch. 

He begins to speed up after your admission, grabbing at your hip and waist before stroking his hand up and wrapping it around your throat; not squeezing but simply holding. You have no doubt that even though he was fucking you, he still posed a danger to you, and as you looked into his cold eyes you could see that that was the point. He delights in the control he has, that he could just as soon kill you than he could make you cum. And more importantly, he knows you like it.

You feel your eyes roll back slightly as he continues his pace, the slight noises of pleasure from his lips make your cunt throb more. He doesn't seem to get tired or over-exert himself, instead maintaining whatever rhythm he desires.

“Such a…greedy thing” he states, his thrusts getting faster, “You truly are a vision, what a pretty pet I seem to have found.”

You shudder at his words; your fingers having moved to drag your nails down his back as he adjusts his head near your ear to whisper into. The pleasure, the sensation, it's overwhelming. You shift your hips, the angle causing him to hit that spot inside you that has your mind reeling. All you can do is nod and release noises from your mouth that upon reflection you’re sure can't have come from you, they're so…desperate.

“And I’ll be sure to make you into such a good pet for me…all mine to use.” It was clear he meant what he said, his hand tightening on your throat. You can't help but moan at his words, the chill of his body pressing against yours mixing to create a euphoria in your head. Over and over, he thrusts into you, getting deliberately rougher as you two get closer and closer.

It was then you feel something you can't describe, an oppressive feeling throughout your entire body that simmers just below your skin. You don't know how, but you know it's him causing you to experience the strange sensation.

“Do you feel it? The control I have over you?” His grip tightens on your neck even more, causing you to struggle for breath. The feeling in your body swirls and fills every pore, every inch of you. You have never experienced anything like this in your life, the sheer ecstasy and torture of being at this monster’s mercy, inside and out.

“What fun I shall have with you, your mind cannot hope to quantify the things I am able to do to you, and I will do all of them.”

You aren't sure whether it's his rough pace, his harsh words or the fact that whatever he's doing to your mind decided it was time, but you cum loudly and frantically. The waves of pleasure crash into you; you feel as though if it wasn’t for his form pressed so close, you'd fall through the mattress and into nothingness. The world seems blurry and disjointed, your nails digging in to his back so harshly you're sure in the back of your mind you're leaving marks. Strained breaths claw their way up your throat as you feel his grip loosen, his thrusts never faltering for a moment. Overwhelmed, the feeling of him pounding into you while you're still so sensitive causes you to whine pitifully, but all you can do was lay there and let him use your body. The drag of his cock pulling out and pushing back in to you hurt so good, you almost don't want it to end despite the overstimulation. You aren't sure how long it takes, or even if you cum again from the sheer amount of pleasure your body was receiving but you feel him cum inside you, rambling about how you belonged to him as he rides out his own high. 

All that you can hear in the room is your loud laboured breathing, as the weight of his body on you was now gone. You look up at him, seeing him adjust his clothes like he’d simply done something mundane, not fucked you within an inch of your life. He glances over at you, at how pitiful you looked; half naked and sweaty, thoroughly satiated and he smirks a little. Within a moment he reaches over and strokes your cheek slightly, the intimacy surprising you. He brushes some hair out of your face, his fingers slightly shaking before standing up.

“Rest, your fragile body needs it.” His tone sounds distant, but there was a hint in his face that he wants to say something else but refrains.

“Will I see you again?”

Your question makes him smile slightly, walking towards your bedroom door but stopping before he left.

“Would you like that?” 

The way he asks makes you think he's experiencing surprise, as if the thought of you wanting to interact with him again was somehow unusual. You nod your head.

 “Then yes…I’m sure you will.”

He leaves without saying another word, leaving you still sprawled out on your bed, your mind racing. With slightly shaky limbs, you adjust yourself and wrap the blanket around your trembling form, exhaustion settling into your bones. The next morning, you're ready to write the encounter off as a wildly inappropriate dream until you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, still naked. Marks. Lots of them. All over your neck, with what looked to be fingerprints adorning the side. And as you gazed at the massacre of your skin, soft fingertips gently running over the blotched marks, you can't help but smile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[goodolddumbbanana]

Nexus to Moon: dramatic, mysterious, evil.

He is the monster. He forced me kneel, he hurts me, he makes me relived of all my mistakes. I couldn't fight him and the worst of it..... I. Scared. Of. Him.

Nexus to Sun: Bitch wants me to work for him and gets mad when I say no. Also... Cringe.

I am sorry but, has anyone felt a really drastically shift tones between Moon and Sun when they interact with Nexus?

Like Nexus really wants to hurt Moon, badly. He does not hesitate to cram his hands inside Moon's head, and mocks Moon for everything he did. It was intense, and we can feel it is Nexus the one who is in the control. And that Moon will not do or can try anything.

Also Moon gets kneel down and tortured pretty quick after that. Also he seems very scared of Nexus after each time he interacted with Nexus.

But Sun... I don't know man... I think I had made Nexus cooler in my head.

He is just so cringe. (THE GOD thingy makes me die a little bit whenever I hear him screaming that name)

I couldn't see the monster who hurt Moon with the way he was chasing Sun around and Sun just kept running like it is no ends tomorrow.

(Lmao dude just straight up pulling Naruto run on Nexus, really reminds me back then, of the times when Sun doing something stupid and Nexus just angrily yelling ran after him.)

And even when he had Sun at the corner, he couldn't say anything 'emotional damage' to Sun.

"What ... Are you insane?!"

"Yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious."

And baby girl is so obsessed with the fact he is no longer Moon, he thinks it is him who is still the one Sun calls for help. Which is sad and funny both at the same time.

Like we can feel a tiny small hesitant in Nexus's voice when Sun keeps saying 'Moon', like he thought Sun wants him to stop.

And how the issue gets dragged on the surface. Sun always feels like he couldn't help Nexus and Nexus also feels like he couldn't let Sun help him. (Because the same old story, Sun got hurt and kidnapped whenever he came with Nexus.)

"So now I have value for you?"

"Yeah, for once in your miserable life, you have value."

It is sad when they come back at each other like this. Especially when Nexus always says that he needs Sun back in the day.

"You had friends, you had a family. They love you."

Sun loves him. He still loves Nexus. He didn't want Nexus dead is one thing, but he seems so worried about Nexus (accidentally calling him Moon when seeing him got shot) and tries to make Monty stop shooting. Even after Nexus runway, Sun - the one who gets so infected by Negative Star power, still wants to know if Nexus is okay.

And when he was back at home, he wasn't even scared of Nexus, not like how he used to be terrified of Eclipse or Killcode or even when he interacts with Dark Sun. He seems just pissed and done at himself, and not even with Nexus.

"I didn't have friends. I was a replacement."

Nexus didn't consider Monty his friend. I mean it is totally understandable, especially when they hijacked his head before. But replacement... Really? Sure maybe at first with Sun, but what about Earth? She didn't know jack about you?

"Maybe at first, but I liked you."

Haha... Remember when Nexus said he was very appreciative of how Sun loved him more than Moon? Haha... Good times ...

"oh my..., cuz I was nicer to you."

"because you are nice."

"because I didn't beat you.... Guess what Sunny, you are nothing but a tool for me..."

He throws away any good things he did for Sun. He burned all their memories, and saw himself as a monster. He tried to make himself a monster towards Sun, and when seeing it didn't work, because Sun doesn't care about how horrible he is now, he straight down Sun with the 'I don't care about you' attitude.

"You know what... You are not worse than Moon. Hell you are not even better..."

'You are just exactly like Moon. ' I think it is what Sun wants to say. They are both so stuck in their own minds, never wanting to hear what other people say, what people are trying to prove they are so much better than this.

"I am me! NONE OF YOU COULD REALISE, I AM MY OWN PERSON!!!"

"I tried."

"No you didn't. You USED me. And now I am going to use you."

"I am sorry."

His voice seems so small. He sounds so heartbroken when he says sorry to Nexus, like we can feel the thought process behind Sun. He truly thinks everything happened was his fault, it is Sun's fault leading Nexus to become like this.

"Your apologies don't mean anything to me."

And Nexus sounds so wanting to move one, to get done with his job, to stop talking about the past. It doesn't matter if Sun says sorry or not, because he doesn't care. He doesn't want to care.

And the term he used... Dragging Sun into his lab and plug he into the machine, to let him never do any of his own will ever again....

What does Nexus think Sun will do with his own will? Like what exactly can Sun do? Yapping at his ears until it bleeds? Sun doesn't have any manipulated skills at all, he is so straightforward and honest to actually harm Nexus from behind, like, Nexus just needs to highjack Sun's head like Moon.

From my perspective, I think there are a lot of methods to let Sun do as Nexus plead, but Nexus only wants to stop thinking about Sun. Like if he fully controlled over Sun, he will not have to think about how Sun is disappointed in him anymore, He will not have to think of Sun as a human being, as his ex brother, as someone still cares about him.

And when Sun says he will not do as Nexus says? Nexus sounds didn't surprise at all. They understand each other too well to know even Sun sometimes a coward, he will not give up like that for Nexus.

Also... Why did he not just threaten Moon? Or Dazzle? Or Jack? Just like how he mocks Solar?

Did he not want his older brother to think of him lower?

"...I have you kneel at me, right ? So look at your superior being."

The way Nexus said that, it makes me feel sad. Like, Nexus so wants to cut off Sun, to make Sun think of him as a monster, to hurt Sun not even in the way it matters.

He still couldn't hit Sun at his lowest, I mean, back then, Old Moon even worse with Sun both emotionally and physically back in the days.

Even after so much nonsense craps, Sun still unharmed. He tortured Moon, he mocked Solar, but Sun.... There is no win in this fight.

Their fighting still looks so much more than their so used banter before... I wish Nexus and Sun will be still brothers ;.;

Sidenote: I love that Ruin tries to convince Nexus to think more with his head but just ends up giving up like : oh right, screw you then, asshole.

Very baby girl behaviour of him.

[atamascolily]

Poor Sayaka is really going through it in Walpurgis no Kaiten. First, she loses her healing abilities and gets so badly beaten she has to wear bandages across her face, then her memories start coming back and she has to cope with the fact that her entire life is a lie and she should actually be dead. Talk about trauma!

This shot suggests to me that Sayaka will go on some sort of internal quest to confirm the truth. This show being what it is, it's difficult to say if this scene represents an "internal" journey into Sayaka's mindscape, similar to Homura's first awakening in Rebellion, which features a mosaic of mirrors, or if this is more "external" venture into the Law of Cycles, of which Sayaka is still technically a part, but it's probably "both/and" rather than "either/or". The blue color scheme makes me think the former, but the piles of books with information about witches makes me think the latter. Is the sculpture a representation of Sayaka or is it the "emptiness" of the Law of Cycles without a human avatar?

Comparable scene in Rebellion? Also, I just now noticed that either the mosaics are rotating around Homura, or something very strange is happening in space. Probably both!

I can't find the interview at the moment, but I recall someone at SHAFT discussing how girls taken by the Law of Cycles aren't running around in Valhalla, as fans once thought, but are asleep and unconscious. (Cf. Homura calling it "the salvation of oblivion" in her opening monologue in Rebellion.) In one of my fanfics (itself inspired by a gorgeous series of fanart), the Law of Cycles is an art museum; here, it looks like SHAFT has made it a library, with each "book" containing information about the infinite number of girls and witches in all the parallel universes Madokami oversees. There's a very "Library of Babel" feel to this shot from the trailer that fills me with glee.

It's unclear if the parallel universe thing will come up in Walpurgis no Kaiten, but people have already spotted Magia Record witches in the trailer, and the entire game takes place in a single aberrant timeline, so if it's in the library, the library has to contain everything. How this works when MR has the doppel system, I have no idea, but also MR likely didn't exist in its current state when Urobuchi originally wrote the WnK script in 2014-5, so this is just Inu Curry taking the opportunity to squeeze in some more witches they designed for the game.

However, the MR anime, which Doroinu directed, ends with the doppel system collapsing and Iroha giving the "book" that represents her story to Madokami, appropriately titled "Magia Record". The title of the episode is "No One Knows Our Record", the implication being that magical girls are completely unknown except to the Law of Cycles.

One detail I like is that the English title is "reflected" in dark witch runes like shadows.

This book had a different cover and design than the books we see in the WnK trailer, but I think the general idea is the same--these books contain information about the witches (remember, "Magia" is also the name of the music that plays during witch battles in the original series) and are thus "records" of their existence. We see more of the books in a different shot,and some covers are quite elaborate, and others are a simple gold border; none appear to be "named" like the Magia Record book, or at least their titles are not visible in this shot.

It sure looks like this girl is rifling through the books to find something, doesn't it? Hmm....

The shot of one of these books opening in the second WnK trailer and runes spilling out suggests that more witches have emerged to complicate matters for Homura and the main cast, though "how" and "why" are open questions at this point. However, it's unclear if the books actually contain the witches/familiars themselves or merely information about them.

I think this shot could appear in a cryptic opening sequence that retroactively explains the entire plot, similar to Homura's soul gem falling through the window at the beginning of Rebellion, although the background lighting suggests it takes place in the same "blue" location that Sayaka is in above. TBD!

Giving away the entire plot in the beginning, but in a way that isn't obvious until afterwards, is a Madoka Magica tradition at this point.

Anyway, this is all a very roundabout way of saying that I think that when Sayaka starts having flashbacks about Oktavia, she's going to the library to do some research! And what she finds there will confirm her worst suspicions and likely trigger a whole new personal crisis where her loyalties will be tested and she is going to have to make some difficult choices.

[bicheetopuff]

By the end of the story, I stopped being a bkdk shipper because Hori made it seem so one-sided on Bakugo's side. Does Izuku even care about him or think about him by the end of the story? He seemed to care more for Ochako and even Iida. Meanwhile Bakugo and Izuku didn't even have an actual resolution on anything, never had a decent reciprocated convo and Izuku doesn't even acknowledge anything Bakugo did. In the last chapter, he becomes a very passive character. He doesnt even try to be a hero until the class hands him the suit. He doesnt even have on screen convos with anyone besides AM. Hori's writing was so weak for his character and relationships with others at the end.

I’m sorry you felt that way, I guess? They had a resolution, and I honestly think it was the best one in the series because Hori didn’t have to outright explain it in text for it to have the emotional impact it had.

Their whole thing was fixing their relationship and learning to become heroes who save and win simultaneously, instead of one or the other. Which they did, in narrative terms.

Also things don’t have to be said out loud to just be understood/implied. Deku watching Katsuki cry with tears in his eyes is a sign of care. The way he reacted to seeing Katsuki’s body is a sign of care. Shigaraki calling Katsuki the closest person to him, is proof that people in the story can see their relationship through implication just fine. Also, does the cover to volume 37 just mean nothing?

All of those implications, plus the other implication that Izuku doesn’t like thinking about how he feels when it comes to Katsuki, nor does he like acknowledging it unless he absolutely he has to. It’s not a writing flaw on horikoshis part, it’s an intentional character flaw that never showed signs of having development, because its development wouldn’t have been important to the overall story. It’s just something we’re supposed to notice and it’s made decently obvious that this is the case considering DvK2 and his vigilante arc, the latter especially.

When Katsuki being stabbed actually happened, you can tell it affected Izuku way more than Aizawa and Torinos injuries and he literally almost died cuz of his reaction to it, yet he pushes it to the back of his mind when he leaves UA after writing a letter to Katsuki that was different than everyone else’s. Or after Katsuki apologized, we get no internal thoughts about him like we did for the rest of the class when the retrieval arc happened, yet Izuku ends up stumbling and falling into Katsuki’s arms as opposed to literally anyone else’s. Not to mentions the fourth episode of the memories recap in the anime, solidifying this theory by giving him PTSD about Katsuki being stabbed. Also:

It’s said in text… “…somewhere deep inside…” meaning it’s intentionally not on the forefront of his mind. Also I think the 1:1 translation to this scene, he described his feelings as “gross,” meaning he’s somewhat ashamed of them.

Also is Izuku supposed to just not care about his other friends? Iida and Ochako were literally his first real friends, of course Hori is gonna highlight them in the end.

Izuku is passive in the end, because he’s always been a passive character. It’s just apart of his personality. And he doesn’t try to be a hero for several years, because wtf is he supposed to do? In the society they live in, you really can’t fight criminals without a quirk unless you fight hand to hand, which won’t work against people with quirks who don’t care about fighting fair. It’s not like he could’ve gotten his own suit on a teachers salary. He doesn’t try because he just accepts and appreciates that it was a short lived dream that he got the chance to actually live.

There’s less focus on Izuku’s development and his relationships with the people around him, because Izuku’s the only character that didn’t “need” development because he’s already a “perfect hero” by Japanese standards. He’s kind, driven, respectful, and sacrificial. The only development he has and needed for the sake of the story was trying to be more confident in himself, and letting himself accept help from others. Everything other flaw, is purely personal to him. Other characters bring up his flaws to him in the story, but no one can make him consider changing those flaws except for him, because those flaws only affect him, and his biggest flaw is that he literally does not take himself into account for anything. He doesn’t care about making himself happy. It is literally purposeful.

Now, I think the epilogue in general was just rushed and I do wish he was able to having meaningful conversations with more characters, like todoroki and his mother, but I don’t think those open doors lessened the integrity of the entire frame. I do wish he had a conversation with Katsuki, but I also understand that it wasn’t really needed either. It’s not a slice of life, after all. The only thing I think we didn’t get the best conclusion on, is bkdks handhold.

Also saying Izuku doesn’t care about Katsuki is such a weird take ajdnejdn

THAT. IS. SO. FUNNY!!

[sitp-recs]

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy. Or: this is not an AU! It's just Harry and Draco meeting by chance in an imported food shop in Connecticut and going on a road trip together. Featuring motels, cacti, Americana, and a hefty dose of pining.

In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.

It’s been ages (or 2 years) since I last wrote a rec for Tacky (I usually write for other readers, except when I’m reccing friends - then I write for them) and their birthday was the perfect excuse to put my reccing muscles back to work. I almost bailed out because I know this is one of T’s own faves and “what if I don’t do it justice?” but that tired angel banner has been sitting in my drafts for 3 long years and it deserves a proper rec!

Where to even begin? Anyone who knows Tacky is aware of their superb prose - rich and nuanced, compassionate, effortlessly funny, with a strong sense of place and a soft spot for suds scenes and filthy m-rated sex I mean devastating romance. Their writing breathes heart and personality, very much like Tacky themself. So knowing that this fic came out exactly as they intended it to should be enough to make you go read this right now, but in case you need further incentive, see below all the reasons why this oneshot is so special to me:

1. The *vibes*: if you thought that 3k is nowhere near enough to build the sexiest, most intriguing Americana atmosphere you’ve seen, think again. The aesthetics are impeccable here, decorating the beautiful and strange landscape - cacti and cheap motels included - into something peaceful and desolate, an overarching melancholy making it even more compelling. The dialogue is brilliant but the silences are just as loud and meaningful, with a quiet intimacy and a dreamlike quality that make you feel as if you're intruding a memory.

2. The romance: at this point everyone and their dog know that pining!Harry is Tacky's jam - they luxuriate in making us all suffer with him until the realization that Draco has been loving him back all along slaps us in the face. Harry is so stupid and desperate and wanton, I love it. And the way Tacky reinvents this delicious trope to make it work in new angsty ways blows my mind. Imo the slow burn is particularly effective here, a feat in any 3k story, because the narrative gives us so much character insight. We learn all the little things that make these two lonely boys tick as we watch their ever-changing perception of each other evolve from a tentative truce to reluctant confidants to a comfortable, easy love that comes naturally and earned. We often get those bits of information from imagery and emotions alone, no dialogue needed, and a road trip is the best way to explore those dynamics in a smooth, unhurried pace.

3. The journey: this is truly an immersive journey, not only physical as we keep jumping from one destination to the next, but also emotional, as we learn more about their vulnerabilities and desires the more they gravitate towards each other. This story shows that being far away from home can be both freeing and grounding, when you’re stuck with your hot enemy someone who knows about your darkest hour. It gives you the chance to heal and visualize a different future without forgetting your past or letting go of that which has shaped who you are. I love their chance encounter and how this poignant 30k love story is told in such impressive economy of words.

TL;DR: if you’re a short form fan and prone to melancholy like me believe me when I say it doesn’t get any better than this. The whole road trip shebang mixing grief, romance and nostalgia wrapped in Tacky’s lush writing is a gift to any reader and an elegant work of art. Enjoy!!!

[nevermorgue]

Hayley! I hope you're well! I come into your inbox to ask about your thoughts and opinions on each spectre, and your favorite ones! Love your blog! :D

HIIII!! I’m so fantastic thank YOU for coming in here. I love your art and your rambles.

My favorite spectres currently are Will’s and Duke’s. But I really love them all. I’ll go into the opinions now

Annabel’s Lady in White - I think she’s beautiful. I love her abilities and the whole bride thing she has going on. I at first wished her dress was more detailed but it’s fine to grow on me. I love the petals, and the hole in her chest is agonizing. Such a pretty spectre. kiss of death is just sooooo. idk her abilities are definitely one of my top favorites.

Morella’s Guardian Spirit - Plain-ish compared to the others, but still fantastic. I feel like her and Annabel are slept on because of how early they were revealed. I love how long her hair gets and the whole celtic vibe. and that she’s mainly defense with the healing and stuff! it’s very unique and it says sooo much about her past. if it were me i’d make her look a little less human wirh maybe more glowing or something but she’s still fabulous :)

Pluto’s Cryptid - im so so so interested in this because apparently domesticated cryptids are super rare? I wanna know more about the other cryptids poppet mentioned so badly. its so fucked that he has a collar too!!! he wanted to escape society but even in death it's like he's bound by the neck. I'm dying for info on that dumb coat too. He's so silly looking. I really wanna see his other abilities. I'll have a stronger opinion when that comes. Ada's Banshee

- I am dying to know what "Mark of the Grave" is so bad. And I love her confusing ass torso. Is she a shadow. is it a dress. I want to know. also LOVE how her limbs being detachable/having the stitch marks implies she was chopped up and buried like that. and her hat. thats a very "southern belle lady" sort of hat. she gets to be the lady she always wanted, just ugly and hideous!! love her and i love her spectre. "fear itself" is one of my favorite abilities and i hope she utilizes it more cough cough on will-

Prospero's Shadow Man - i am dying to know if he can take the mask off. imagine he's like. a sickly corpse looking kind of thing. like himself but rotting or weak as hell. i LOVE his abilities i just wish he had more detaaaailing. hes so cool and handsome though. i also think its super weird/cool how he has to activate his abilities with the stopwatch. i havent seen any other spectres have a "trigger point" like that. would he be rendered useless without it? Montresor's Dybbuk - nipple rings. sorry anyways - i love the chains. because it's not like he's using them, he's the one chained. and the whole. goat legs thing. bc goats are associated with the devil for some reason. I wonder why that is. idk i just love the whole demon thing. because he's been seen as such since like. his birth. and he cant even escape it in death. love it love his shit. his ability to force his way into peoples' memories is CRAZY too i cannot WAIT to see more of that. Eulalie's Chimera - SOOOO pretty. So aesthetically pleasing. I love how she can make stuff with her dreams!!! and the fact that its implied she can yank malevolent spectres back into their regular forms is soooo cool. and just the fact that she can neutralize other spectres in general is such a unique power. shes like defense similar to morella, just in a different way minus healing. i love her. i really dont dislike any spectre i just love them all. Berenice's Strigoi - I will forever be mad that her teeth count as an ability but WHATEVER. She's still badass. I can only imagine how it must feel to basically lose your hands. I'm really excited to see what "Bloodlust" as an ability does. like there are so many cool spectre abilities we havent seen in action yet. The bite that makes you drunk will forever be iconic too. I love her look and i love how her whole outfit is directly correlated to her time period. also love how like each mouth on her is like. its own being. she cant control it. Duke's Poltergeist - I need to like control myself because I will yap nonstop about this one. The NEONS the colors are just fantastic and I LOOOOVE HIS EYES. THE EYES. all of his abilities fuck so hard and i love how like. his "hypnosis" isnt really like full hypnosis its more like a very powerful suggestion? and he couldnt even figure out how to get ada out of it? like he didnt TELL her to use her ability on montresor, he just kinda planted the idea in her head. i also noticed that one of his abilities IS levitation despite us seeing other spectres float on multiple occasion. so the key difference here is the telekinesis portion of the power. just thought that was silly. love him. i love duke. he's my 2nd fave. Will's Doppelganger - i physically have to stop myself from writing a page's worth of bs here. He has DIRT IN HIS JOINTS. like he's DIRTY. like buried and forgotten!! and if he's dust bowl era like so many of us think, perhaps its that same dust. he was left buried in it...forgotten. unidentified. And and and he's SO OP. everyone IC is underestimating how he has one of the most powerful spectres. He was able to almost fool the misfits as duke, he honestly did a fantastic job. He has to memorize so much. like its genuinely impressive. and then his ribbons. notice how they wrap around HIM before/during use. like he's fucking tangled in in them too, not just his victims. i dont think he's ever been free. he's never not been wrapped up in someone else's shit. he's never been "william". i- i need to stop. hes the best. best spectre- and i pray that the characters realize how much POWER he really has.

[boy-kings-court]

just started s6 with my friend, and it's been bringing back a lot of old emotions so allow me to hopefully say something new or newish about this iconic shot.

first of all, jared does a fantastic job right off the bat with showing something is off with sam, but going back to this season for the umpteenth time I started thinking of something devastating

yes, sam doesn't have a soul. anyone who has watched this season before knows that. we know sam later admits to dean he can't feel the emotions or guilt or fear that he's expecting to and it's been this way for a while.

but think about sam before this reunion.

he comes back with no answers, trauma from the cage before his body was pulled out, but most importantly everything the old sam had sans soul, including sam's sharp mind and all of his memories.

sam's memories of the way he USED to feel, the emotions he used to have, especially about/around dean.

before their reunion he's been nonstop hunting, not sleeping, with the knowledge that something is fundamentally WRONG deep inside. but because he has the old sam's memories, and because he knows how much that sam loved his brother, he was sincere in not wanting to pull dean back into hunting until it was necessary

but then I think about how excited this sam must have been, even if he didn't want to do this to dean. because he's probably thinking 'this is it. this is what I've been missing. this is what could help me. maybe dean is the one person who can make me feel those things I used to'

and at the end of 6x01, he tells dean "I wish you were coming with me," and I used to interpret this as wanting dean to go with him to be his conscience as he hunts (I was like 14 go easy on me) but now I know it's much much MUCH more than that

sam is hoping this reunion will finally set things right within him. he's hoping he'll feel the things the old sam did

in short, this subtle, "off," not-sam-at-all smile from soulless sam tells me one thing: 'dean will help me become sam again'

and then I want to die

[shmichaelmeen]

Nothing could have prepared me for how Season 2 ended. Not even the spoilers.

okay i know that we all make jokes about how episode six is insane, there was even one person who posted about how it's comparable to eating a bag of powdered donuts but the last one is covered in cocaine. and i knew how season 2 ended from ~ the internet ~ and everything and due to some traumatic shit happening in the middle of watching season 2 for the first time, i never finished it. so all i knew was whatever i saw online and i didn't think there was anything much more to it.

but oh BOY was i wrong

watching episode 6 felt like a literal fever dream. I didn't even realize what episode it WAS until my friend (who helped me finish watching the season) pointed it out. and i FREAKED OUT because sooooo much happens in one episode. SO MUCH. i genuinely thought that the whole bit AFTER Jim/Gabriel got his memories back - the Metatron appearing, the kiss, EVERYTHING INSANE - was all another episode.

I have a lot to say about how people talked about the ending versus how it was to watch it and see it for myself for the first time but what i will say is this. i tried to go along with everyone making explanations for what happened and justifying that everything about the end, about the episode, heck even about the SEASON makes any sense but i cannot follow that anymore. to put it simply, there's a LOT there and i don't think at this time we CAN make a nice neat explanation. and that's the whole point. the whole point of the ending, the whole point of Nina and Maggie's ending, is that rarely in life (even i guess in immortal life apparently) is anything simple. when in comes to matters of the heart and Human Emotion, there is never an easy answer. it's messy, and that's perfectly okay. it's allowed to be messy. and that's my approach to trying to analyze season 2. it's okay that it's messy and things may not make sense. it's meant to be that way to represent just how confusing and even frustrating love can be.

everyone loves to bash the miscommunication trope", but why does it work? because it is realistic (a lot of the time, depending on writing of course). it's only realistic that people miscommunicate and that confronting feels for each other makes things confusing and awkward. that's how the ending was written. and i think that's perfectly okay.

as much as i am a Tier 1 Overthinker, this is one time where I'm willing to accept that the situation is unexplainable until we have further information (yay season 3!!!!!!). this also isn't an "anti-theories" post either. i think those posts, as well as all of the "what if the curtains are just blue" people, are trying to hard to be cool and different by not thinking critically about a piece of media when media is designed to be thought about and analyzed. and trust me, i do like entertaining theories, but I'm just staying super open-minded for the time being. if anyone has any niche theories i'd love to hear them because I'm willing to entertain any possible answer until we get the truth :)

(oh and before anyone says anything about how it's my own fault for looking at spoilers, that's not the issues. spoilers aren't the thing I'm talking about. it's people trying to make definitive answers and put together the puzzle perfectly when we don't have all the pieces. not having an answer feels uncomfortable, but that's also the whole point.)

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Loved You Then, Love You Now (Jason Todd)

Summary: he's always loved you.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 660ish

Read on AO3!

--

The streets of Gotham were quieter than usual. You and Jason strolled side by side, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets to fend off the evening chill. It had been years since you two were kids, running around the old neighborhood, getting into trouble, and chasing after your dreams. But even now, nothing had really changed between you—well, almost nothing.

"You remember when we used to come here?" you asked, looking up at the park where you and Jason had spent countless afternoons, swinging from the rusted playground equipment and daring each other to climb trees.

Jason smirked, glancing over at the worn metal slide. "Yeah, I used to push you off that slide all the time."

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully. "You were such a brat."

Jason chuckled, the sound deep but soft. "Still am, depending on who you ask."

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, memories floating in the air between you. It was nice, just being with him like this. No Red Hood, no danger—just Jason, the boy you’d grown up with, your best friend.

But lately, things felt... different. You’d catch him looking at you longer than usual, and sometimes, his hand would brush yours like he was about to hold it but thought better of it. The tension between you both had grown unspoken, something unsaid lingering in the air.

Finally, you decided to break the quiet. "Jay," you began, your voice soft, "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh," Jason teased, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he looked at you. "What's on your mind?"

You stopped walking and turned to face him fully, the weight of the words you were about to say pressing down on you. "Do you ever think about... what we could have been?"

Jason’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," you hesitated, biting your lip, "we’ve been through everything together—school, growing up, even losing you for a bit—" You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I’ve always felt like there’s something more between us, and maybe we’ve just been too scared to admit it."

Jason looked away for a moment, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something back. Then, he turned his piercing blue gaze back to you, his voice lower and gentler than you'd ever heard. "I’ve loved you since we were kids."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Jason took a step closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. "I’ve loved you since we were kids," he repeated, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "I just never thought I deserved you. Not with everything that’s happened. But I can’t hide it anymore."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back, too overwhelmed by the confession to speak. He loved you. He always had.

You let out a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Jason smiled, that crooked, charming grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. "I was waiting for the right moment. But I guess there's no ‘right moment’ in Gotham, huh?"

You shook your head, grinning through the tears threatening to spill. "No, there isn’t."

And then, before either of you could say anything else, Jason leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, soft, and so full of the love that had been building for years. It felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Jason rested his forehead against yours, a rare, genuine smile on his face. "Always thought I’d have to fight some villain for you," he joked softly. "Turns out, the real battle was just telling you how I feel."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. "Well, I’m glad you finally won, Jay."

Jason held you tighter, whispering into your ear, "I’m never letting you go."

-

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

DCEU PERM TAGS: @other-fandom-reblogs

[ruvviks]

it's been a hot sec since i've talked about cyberpunk and i was initially working on a fic that would tell the story of this whole thing, but i've abandoned it many months ago and cannot say when i'll be picking it up again SO! i've decided to instead make this timeline. sorry in advance for how much information is in this thing the cyberpunk extended blorboverse essentially refers to the story parallel to the in-game events of cyberpunk 2077 that @mojaves and i came up with. we don't really have a better name for it but at this point the term has been used so many times that i feel like everyone here knows what it is by now, but at the same time we've never really explained the full scope of what the story is by now (it's a lot sorry). so in an attempt to get you guys a little bit more up to date with it all, here's a semi coherent timeline that describes the core events of the story and every branching story that came out of it! for additional background information, you can check out the following posts (timeline 1 / timeline 2 / timeline 3) to catch up with the continuation of the in-game storyline that's referenced in this timeline, but it's mostly irrelevant to everything here save for a couple of referenced events that cross over between the stories. it all ties together very intricately sorry about that. don't worry too much about it i've included my taglist down below to make sure people who are interested won't miss this post, but feel free to skip over this if it's not your thing! won't be doing a lot of this kind of stuff in the future but i'm trying to get back to the cyberpunk roots so this is kind of like, a good starting point and reference point for later posts!

The story starts in early 2077 and is centered around Sebastian Vidal, gang leader of the Cobras and previous test subject of Arasaka Special Programs (the linked page is a lot of information but gives the most coherent overview of what the branch actually is). The current director of the SERPENT projects, Andrew Colton, and Dr. Alana Cartier, both want him dead, to tie up their last loose end before the rest of Arasaka can find out and shut down Special Programs once and for all.

Over the past months they’ve been hiring various assassins in secret, to try and get Seb killed; however, these assassins keep failing, and their latest attempt lies in the hands of Cassidy Shaffer, an ex-corpo turned assassin with a strong moral code and plenty of experience to his name. With little to work with, as his mysterious client doesn’t give out much information, Cassidy starts with what he thinks is gonna be a quick and easy job– but he ends up hunting after Seb for essentially a year.

During this year, the two men have a series of wild encounters that get more and more insane the longer it goes on; it includes, but is unfortunately not limited to, Cassidy biting off a chunk of Seb’s ear, the two of them running over the highway, the two of them getting handcuffed together and chased by the NCPD then hit by a car right in front of the hospital, and Seb sensually licking blood off Cassidy’s face after having stabbed him when Cassidy wanted to strike at a concert Seb is visiting.

All of it comes to a sudden stop when Cassidy learns his client has been lying to him the whole time, and since he does not appreciate lying clients he ends up jumping sides and teams up with the Cobras to do some cleanup duty in Arasaka Special Programs. He and Seb work together to go after a list of targets to get the still ongoing projects mostly to a halt, while remaining in the shadows themselves as to not draw too much attention their way; and during this collaboration they meet several people from their past, bringing back both good and bad memories.

One of these people is Hanan Chisaka, the Head of Security at Special Programs. She ends up becoming the next test subject of Project Cobra after the last successful subjects, Xavier and Gabriel Mason, end up escaping in the midst of the chaos of Hanako Arasaka’s capture in mid-2077. Once Seb’s best friend and Cassidy’s mentor, she’s now forced to hunt the both of them down; but in their final confrontation she snaps out of the controlled mode Arasaka keeps her in and runs away with them, effectively leaving Special Programs without any test subjects. Another one of these people is Reid Bennett, Cassidy’s ex and ex-coworker back at MaxTac. He still works for the corporation and has been on an ongoing investigation into Arasaka Special Programs; seeing Cassidy alive and well, working together with Seb no less, piques his interest and he continues to look further into the case, which will cause him to make a very big mistake later on in the timeline.

By September 2078, Seb and Cassidy have successfully taken down all their planned targets and retreat back into the shadows, leaving Special Programs with many losses and no test subjects. With the APEX program discontinued a month earlier (incident discussed in this fic, which is a continuation of the in-game events), and Hanako Arasaka recovered and ready to take the corporation back from the hands of her corrupt brother, Special Programs ends up having to retreat for the time being, and cook up a new plan in the background.

Special Programs by this point is run by Andrew Colton, Alana Cartier, and Kaida Akiyama, three players who have been in the game for a long time already in the SERPENT projects’ runtime. Colton and Cartier are married– Cartier used to be married to Seb and cheated on him for a good amount of time when he was still at Arasaka– but their marriage is starting to fall apart. Akiyama has had to watch over Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne for a while during his chase after the Mason twins, which ended up with the twins dead and Hawthorne going into early retirement (Arasaka doesn’t know the twins faked their death and Ambrose is now dating one of them lol), and xe is now determined to help Colton and Cartier get Seb back into Arasaka so the projects can continue.

Cassidy’s initial plan was to leave as soon as the collaboration would come to an end, but he has found his place with the Cobras and instead ends up officially joining them.The next chapter in the story is a more laid-back and easygoing chapter, in which Cassidy learns to be part of real life again, and in which Seb learns to let people get close to him again after spending years trying to convince himself he doesn’t need any help. Over the course of a little over a year (all the way to November 2079), the two grow even closer than they had already done, going on gigs together and, you guessed it, slowly but surely falling in love until they inevitably end up together at the end of it.

Not long after the two get together, Reid returns into Cassidy’s life. He wants to try and be friends again and Cassidy gives him a second chance, though this soon enough turns out to have been a mistake, with Reid trying to create distance between Seb and Cassidy and then going as far as trying to sell Cassidy to Kang Tao (one of the few corporations that have been hunting Cassidy down for a while now) in exchange for his own freedom from MaxTac (where he would have otherwise been stuck at for probably the rest of his life). Naturally, Reid can’t watch Cassidy get tortured for long and leaks his location to the Cobras, who find and free Cassidy and take Reid into captivity instead– he does not get killed, but instead has to sit out some time at a safehouse somewhere in solitude, where he gets to decide what kind of person he wants to be in the future.

This brings us to Elysium; a gorgeous spaceship which was supposed to be a relatively cheap escape from reality for everyone who wanted a refreshing break from Earth, but through Arasaka sponsorship has become just another cash-grab project to compete with the Crystal Palace– and considering the megacorporation has its greasy hands all over it, the secret labs in the spaceship are used for a series of very unethical experiments. Naturally so, it would be the perfect place for Colton to continue his SERPENT projects without the risk of Hanako Arasaka finding out and shutting the place down. He sends forces up to Elysium (obviously after his other attempts at relocating the project to space have failed tremendously, having lost contact with every single crew in the smaller Arasaka stations in orbit around the planet), but since he’s not there himself his cousin (one of the CEOs of Elysium), Maxwell Crane, unbeknownst to Colton, takes control of the SERPENT projects in space instead. From the earlier linked Special Programs page: “Project Eryx used the technology of previous projects, but took a completely new approach in the hosts it used; rather than focusing on the human psyche it attempted to create a new type of cyborg which would lack the humanity that caused previous projects to fail. The Cobra chips were no longer used and the software was instead installed directly onto the host’s mainframe. The flexibility of the new hosts– more robot than human, and in some cases the entire human aspect was lacking altogether– allowed for experimentation with highly advanced cybernetic enhancements and military grade tech and upgrades, turning the test subjects– dubbed ‘prototypes’– into dangerous, unstoppable killing machines.”

Things settle down for Seb and Cassidy, but this moment of peace does not last long. In January 2081 the two find themselves traveling to the spaceship Elysium, to investigate a curious situation in the laboratories– they’ve been hired by Arasaka without their knowledge and it’s a setup to get Cassidy killed and Seb back in Cartier’s control.

While in space, they learn that the secret labs have suffered an outbreak of the above mentioned prototypes. They quickly connect the dots and realize Special Programs is back in the game, and they work together with security guards Aubrey Valentine and Leon dello Russo to try and fix the situation before it gets out of hand. Obviously this fails tremendously and Elysium ends up on a complete lockdown after a ship-wide outbreak, which is eventually contained in late March of that year, with CEO Maxwell Crane dead, leaving only his wife Kinsley Osborn behind.

Elysium continues to exist and is rebuilt after the crisis, and Kinsley Osborn can now finally turn it into the retreat it was always meant to be. Previously, most Elysium employees were to be stuck in space for the rest of their lives; however, with Arasaka out of the picture they are free to leave as they please, which results in a gigantic cut in total employee count in the months that follow.

Seb and Cassidy return to Night City and take Aubrey and Leon with them. Aubrey reunites with his sisters; Becca, James, and Rikki, and soon after his return to the city he opens an LGBTQ+ nightclub called Bodytalk with them, found Downtown, City Center, in June 2081. Not only is it a fun place to hang out at, it’s also his main hub as a fixer, and he starts a collaboration with the Cobras to get business going between the gang and the club; and soon enough it grows into a large and powerful network of connections, which is the foundation on which the rest of the stories are built.

After this point in time, many many more things happen but it would take me another hour or ten to go into full detail of all of that, so instead here’s a quick rundown of some of the other things that Bodytalk gets involved in:

Reid Bennett is handed over to Aubrey and he starts working at the club, and he becomes a very valued employee as well as a good friend to many now that he’s no longer fucking insane

Kaida Akiyama returns from Elysium and shows up to Hanan’s doorstep, to ask for her help with getting out of Arasaka for good; much later on, xe starts working for Bodytalk as well, in an attempt to put xyr past behind xem and become a better person

Urban Dynamite starts performing at the club regularly, and it becomes their home base

Luna Serratos, Cassidy’s ripperdoc friend from all the way back to killing era, gets involved in the Harbinger case from Maelstrom (one of the gang’s most feared members); turns out the Harbinger is in fact Reuben de la Rosa, a by then 22-year-old kid who has ended up in Luna’s care with his friend Noah Telavera after the two got caught up in an explosion. She requests the Cobras’ help with getting Maelstrom to let Reuben go

Officer Michele Diaz from Militech (who used to be Cassidy’s boss) is demoted following the lawsuits after the Elysium incident, and her investigation into the incident in hopes to get her job back leads her to Bodytalk; she begins threatening them and sends the whole club and their allies into uncertain times

Many people get married. There’s so many fucking guys here we went a little insane with the numbers but there’s several weddings and there’s a whole polycule going on too feel free to send asks about this if you’re interested

Cobra Cybernetics releases a new line of cyberware, which is incredibly buggy and dangerous to the public; it’s brought to the club’s attention and it makes them realize that Luiza Vidal (Seb’s sister), who not that long ago asked them to kill her husband (William Colton (Andrew’s brother), CEO of Cobra Cybernetics), has gone missing; they now need to get involved without getting the news out that they actually didn’t kill William and that he is still alive somewhere, while also balancing out dynamics between Biotechnica (angry at Cobra Cybernetics for stealing their designs) and Arasaka (the actual reason why Cobra Cybernetics’ designs look like Biotechnica’s designs, because William stole designs from Special Programs after halting their partnership after the Elysium incident, but these designs had been stolen by Arthur Jenkins from Biotechnica even BEFORE that to be able to hijack the European Space Council’s cybernetics following the Frankfurt incident. Are you still with me)

Vitali Dobrynin (fixer and main character from the in-game events storyline and the continuation of it; Vincent “V” Mayer’s boyfriend) ends up visiting Bodytalk after meeting Aubrey at a Fixer Council meeting, which happens in late 2083; this essentially ties the two main storylines together, which means that yes, a lot of the characters from the two separate storylines end up meeting :]

Officer Ulysses Dimakos (used to work with Reid at MaxTac) is sent to investigate Bodytalk following the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and ends up teaming up with the club to get MaxTac on a dead trail in exchange for his freedom of the corporation

On top of the Bodytalk / Cobras centered storyline, there’s a couple of side stories that are still connected to the whole thing but are more of a standalone thing with only a few touching points to the rest of it all:

This obviously takes place a lot earlier because it’s already mentioned above, but Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne is tasked with chasing after the escaped Mason twins; naturally he lets them go and ends up going into retirement, and Xavier Mason later on ends up becoming Bodytalk’s part-time repair guy on account of knowing Kaida

Gabriel Mason ends up in a car crash with retired security specialist Ames Ortega, who was also in Elysium during the incidents there, and the two end up babysitting Ambrose and Xavier’s kids together while those two are helping Hanan with getting Kaida out of Arasaka (Are you still with me. Blink if you can hear me)

Mercenary Frankie Sayyad gets a promotion from his fixer, Vulture (real name Diana Crane, Maxwell Crane’s older sister and cousin of the Coltons), and becomes one of her Bloodhounds; he works together with Evelyn Harris, Nimue Nkuna, and Beckett Rydel, the latter being one of the very first test subjects of Arasaka Special Programs, and the four accidentally get themselves mixed into a mystery concerning their secretive fixer

Caleb Harris, ex-security at Biotechnica, ends up back at Club Bodytalk not long after the conclusion of the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and starts working for Aubrey; he is partnered up with Ramiel Al-Masri, a mercenary who has been working for Vitali Dobrynin for a while and has recently joined Aubrey’s mercenary roster too, and together they dive into a series of gigs neither of them had expected

Journalist Bodhi Shankar has finally found more evidence and information surrounding the mysterious cult gang Umbra and its so-called Prophet, Thiago Salazar; however, his antics have led to him accidentally becoming part of the gang himself, and he has to figure out a way to get Thiago to stop listening to the supposed deity that the gang worships known as Scintilla, before she makes him do things that will get many people killed

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel, @aezyrraeshh, @carlosoliveiraa

[myfairkatiecat]

nightfall was crazy, but I'm also kind of confused??? It went by sooo fast I was like WHAT? WAIT, WHAT? WAIT WAIT WAIT-

Love the fact that they went on with keefes whole "I'm not worth it, but you are, so I'm going to take over decisions we need to make (as a team) and screw them over so that they cause harm to me and not you!" Kinda vibe, honestly thought that after he came back from the neverseen in lodestar they were just going to forget about it, yk??

Only thing I really didn't like is that like...everyone has a slight distrust to keefe (at least in the start, till he apologized ) but Sophie, the person who was (in my opinion) most affected by his 'betrayal' never once had a doubt???? Like, if someone betrayed me, right? Yk they're my friend whatever whatever, ID STILL HAVE SOME KIND OF LIKE ISSUES WITH THEM???

I feel like her distrusting keefe and then slowly learning to trust him would have made the book MUUUCH better!!

Also, I'm still not getting where the Fitz discourse is coming from, like, his sibling just betrayed him, fell unconscious and WOKE UP WITH NO MEMORY OF ANYTHING?? I can see where the anger issues come from

Holy shit this was long, sorry!

-- @localburntoutkid

Had a blast reading this!

You’re so right about Keefe. That definitely doesn’t get dropped after lodestar, or even nightfall—it’s one of his character’s main flaws, and while it does shift and evolve as the series moves on, it’s kind of there, you know? And I’m really hoping it resolves in some way by the end of the series, because his arc is just… so interesting to me. Because it is NOT arc-shaped. At all.

I get what you mean about Sophie being the only one who doesn’t distrust Keefe when he comes back. I really like that too acknowledge that it’s a Sophie-specific thing, though! Too many people forget that this is a third person limited story told by an unreliable narrator, and act like Shannon Messenger herself is telling us Keefe deserves to be fully trusted. Sophie Foster decides, at the end of Neverseen, not to hate him, and Lodestar is where she has her moments of doubt and distrust, but even in Lodestar, she always believes in Keefe’s good intentions. There’s even a scene where she says something like “Yes, Keefe’s plan is horrible and I hate it, but his heart is in the right place. I have to believe that.” The part about keefe’s plan is paraphrased, but she did say she needs to believe his heart was in the right place, in that wording, and it’s fascinating to me. She’s very attatched to Keefe (obviously) and I think it’s mostly for her own sanity that she chooses over and over to believe that there’s something right about what he’s doing, because letting him go sounds excruciating, even by his own fault.

I actually have no issue with this being Sophie’s perspective, and I actually find it interesting especially in the context of sokeefe, but I wish we got to see this portion through another character’s eyes. For example, Fitz. Someone who does distrust him afterwards, and rightfully so.

As far as Fitz discourse goes, that stuff stemmed less from nightfall and more from flashback and legacy. I don’t hate Fitz in either of those books, but you’ll probably notice the moments that made people kind of go nuts about hating him and ran away with his character (personally, I think Fitz is fully understandable in both books, but don’t fully condone the way he acts in a few scenes, particularly in legacy. I’ll explain later after you’ve read it)

Don’t apologize for length, I’m literally Katie, have you met me? Everything I write is longer than I intend

I’m glad you’re having fun with the KOTLC series. Keep me updated!!!