ari reblogs

have you been looking for the love?

[arrblgs]

hihi this is @addicsvt!! I've decided to start a reblog/spam account to help my fellow hard working tumblr writers and content makers <3 Im also doing free promotion for other small writers out there, so send in an ask for me to rec your fanfics/other media!! reblogs will be under the tag #arirecs

also not promoting: nsfw media and text fics that are discriminating

[justrustandstardust]

so fucking tired of people getting up in arms about the satosugu “shippers”. even the whole thing about “well, it’s fine if that’s how you CHOOSE to see it” is infuriating because it’s not shipping if it’s literally just in the text itself. people aren’t “choosing to see them romantically” if they possess the one critical thought to pick up on what the text is so blatantly saying.

i'm so fucking sick of the stupid ass dudebros who deride any discourse about satosugu as "shipping". maybe, just maybe, if there are thousands of people who see something about your favourite characters that you don't, it actually might be true.

to men, who are used to dominating every discursive space, it is unthinkable that people who aren't them might understand their favs better than they do. they dismiss "shipping" and in doing so outwit the analytical skills required to reach its conclusion (which goes far beyond "shipping", a reductive term used to belittle analyses and whims of people who aren't men).

like i'm fucking sorry you must be spoonfed from the tired hand of gege himself. stsg's coding is right there in the text; in openly rejecting it, these dudebros reveal the vapid, surface-level relationship they have with jjk and media in general. people don't merely see stsg as queer/romantic, that's what they are.

it’s actually cute how these men eagerly eat up the content presented to them at face value (powerscaling) and pointedly, aggressively disregard what jjk is actually about. if they shut up for more than one fucking second, they might be able to hear the discourse going on around them and actually learn something about jjk that’s worth knowing.

[kamieow]

─ LOVER, YOU SHOULD'VE COME OVER.

FEATURING: caleb/xia yizhou x non!mc female reader

where you get injured during a paired hunter’s association mission with mc. when you realize she’s hurt too, you keep quiet about your own condition and turn all your strength towards getting her to safety, because caleb needs her alive. because she has always been caleb’s first priority. because caleb’s entire life has been tailored around keeping her safe.

because, maybe, in another life, caleb would have chosen you. but in this one, you already know better.

CONTENT: 5.1k words, ANGST (i am warning you), ALLLL hurt VERY LITTLE comfort (this is your second warning), toxic dependency and kind of a savior complex on reader’s end, slight gore and body horror, profanity, blood, injuries, arguments, childhood!bestfriend caleb and non!mc character study, literary themes, mc is your partner in the association

NOTE: this is based on jeff buckley’s heart-wrenching song: lover, you should have come over (go listen as you read 😚) . ALSO if you’ve read a tale of two cities by charles dickens, i was highly inspired by sydney carton and lucie manette when writing reader and caleb’s relationship — so NOTE that reader is the ultimate yearnmaxxer. she has a savior complex and depends on caleb like sydney is towards lucie so their relationship is NOT MEANT TO BE HEALTHY!!!!! plz heed that warning before reading!!!!

masterlist

IT’S NEVER OVER / ALL MY BLOOD FOR THE SWEETNESS OF HER LAUGHTER / IT’S NEVER OVER / SHE IS THE TEAR THAT HANGS INSIDE MY SOUL, FOREVER.

The poet writing out your life taught you very early on that you were never first when it comes to Caleb. 

You can picture the way the elegist holds the pen, etching away and gradually crafting your star-crossed narrative: they’ve scrawled all the words with bloodied ink. Ripped the edges with laughter, left the paper to yellow with age. A Romanticist’s dark fantasy – a traditional ending that belonged in one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, a cruel fate subjected to you, a side character left to eventually rot away beneath the blinking moonlight. 

Unfortunately, you love Caleb. Fortunately, you love Caleb. You love him because he’s Caleb. You hate him because he’s Caleb. You love him the way Sydney Carton loved Lucie Manette, when he clawed out his own pulsating heart from his dying ribs and willingly served it to her on a silver platter. All without asking for a single thing in return, because she saved him from a life of disgrace. He was already withering, and she rekindled him from ashes into a blazing heap of fire, and that salvation was more than enough to grant her his beautiful devotion.

You think that if Caleb asked for your heart, you’d plate it within seconds – savoring whatever he chose to grow in its place. You’d let him plant asiatic apples – his favorite – inside your ribcage, and let him caramelize them and feed them to you without a second thought. If you struggled to breathe and cough up the bloodied seeds, you think that’s even better. Because it’s Caleb, and you hate him, but worst of all, you love him. And they go hand in hand, your love and hatred, so much so that it hurts. 

MC is a real sweetheart. A pretty thing who brought a noble reason for becoming a UNICORNS Hunter to the Association. You tried so hard to loathe her, you really did, but all your efforts came back futile. Because in reality, why would you hate MC? Because of Caleb? It’s not like she forces him to do anything – he willingly dotes on her. Sometimes she even gets upset because he gets a little too overbearing. Everything Caleb does for her is of his own accord. You are never the first person to be called when things go wrong. Never the first to be worried for. Not the first to be protected the second everything goes awry.

That place has always belonged to her, but Caleb granted her that place of his own free will. MC had never meant any malice towards you, because it was hardly her fault that Caleb chose her. Any hint of animosity was all but a carefully constructed illusion in your own head, because there was none. She had been nothing but kind to you. A real sweetheart.

The necklace around Caleb’s throat is proof of her place; a thin chain, dull silver, worn over by years of being grasped at without a second thought. The crystallized red apple and those dog tags that glint under the sunlight: a constant, unintentional reminder of her ownership and everything that you’re not. You’ve watched him reach for it whenever he’s anxious, fingers curled around it when orders from the Fleet are too heavy, and when his fear slips through the cracks of his carefully crafted composure.

Maybe that’s something you can hate her for, because that necklace serves as a painful admonition and a physical manifestation of all your hurt. You were there before that necklace. That damned necklace. Before any ranks. Before MC became your partner in the Association, another mocking reminder of where you stood within your twisted narrative. Before all your obligations grew teeth and knew how to bite, and sooner or later would swallow you whole.

You remember it now. The memory comes to you, unbidden and sharp and warm all at once, a wilted daffodil resting within the depths of your thoughts that refuses to leave.

It was summer that day, late summer. You remember the season because the apples were in full bloom and Caleb had been counting the days down until he could harvest the fruits that one of Josephine’s trees bore. He promised you that he’d make apple pie just like how she makes it, and you just giggled and told him not to set the fire alarm off again. He said that he never recalled doing such a thing.

The sky was blue, and the apples were a perfect shade of red, and you wished they would respectively stay blue and red forever. For those colors to never darken or fade, and hoping that one day, they would merge and settle under Caleb’s eyes. An almost impossible shade of ultraviolet that you constantly yearned for. 

MC wasn’t there. You don’t remember why, and frankly, you don’t care. All that mattered, for once, was that day belonged entirely to you. Out of all the afternoons that you spent as a trio, it had only been the two of you that day. Yes, this was a summer memory that was only yours and his to keep, for you to fondly keep in a locket deep within your ribcage for all eternity. 

That day, you were younger – too young to know how things would end – and sitting cross-legged on the dewy grass of his backyard, the blades damp against your palms. Caleb sits across from you, knees pulled up, and sleeves rolled to his elbows, eagerly waiting. The air smelled like sun-warmed leaves and fruits, like Caleb, and the poets were feeling creative, basking in the cooling wind the summer brought.

You had brought him a gift, you said, and he watched you with an expectant shade of curiosity as you reached into your pocket and pulled out two thin lengths of braided cord, a perfect mix of ivory and crimson. The bracelets were uneven, dyed by your shaky hands, and lightly fraying at the ends. You’d made them the night before, fingers clumsy and hands shaking as you followed the step-by-step tutorial playing on your phone. “Oh? What do you have for me here?”

“They’re matching bracelets. One for you, and one for me,” you mutter sheepishly, like explaining might’ve lessened the embarrassment tinting your cheeks. “I know they’re kind of stupid, but–”

Caleb leans forward at that. “Hey, they’re not stupid.”

You look up at him, surprised. “You promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he grins, and your throat tightens, his words like music to your ears, crescendoing into a harmonious choir the moment that Caleb willingly holds out his wrist for you. The way your heart thumped as your fingers brushed against his skin made you fear that he could hear its erratic beating, and the blood rushing in your eardrums. Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he did, and chose not to say anything. He’s always been able to read you like an open book.

“There, done.” The bracelet rested just beneath the bone of his right wrist, the color vivid against his skin. When you finished, you leaned back to admire your work, pride blooming and heart full with his words, despite yourself. “Now, when you inevitably forget me in five years when you’re suuuper popular and cool at the DAA, you won’t be able to pretend like you didn’t know me.”

He laughs at that, bright and unguarded, and you wish that this day would never end. That Caleb and his bracelet and everything about him would just settle somewhere deep within your chest, finding shelter within the crevices of your ribcage. Or maybe you can find a home within his own body. You didn’t mind either outcome. “I don’t think that’s possible. Besides, you’re already way cooler than me.”

Then, without another word, he reaches for your hand. “Wait–”

Too late. He fumbles with the second bracelet, your matching half, and knots it around your wrist. It sits a little too tight, and you’re certain you’ll get rope burn once you begin to outgrow it, but you could hardly care less. He puts his palm against your own and intertwines your fingers against his, and your mind sings at the contact. “There. Now we’re even.”

You look down at your hand clasped against his own and mutter, “You’re never taking this off.” 

He smiles, saluting you with his free hand, and your eyes soften. You’ve marked each other with these bracelets. His hand is so, so warm, and Caleb is still so beautiful, like how everything should be. “Copy that.”

That day was an anomaly. 

You were matching bracelets with Caleb. Not him and MC. You and Caleb. He’d let you leave a permanent mark on him in a way that MC hadn’t, even though she ended up giving him that necklace years later. The sky shouldn’t have been such a beautiful shade of blue, and the apples shouldn’t have been so red, but they were. Caleb shouldn’t have been so boyishly pretty that day, looking over your visage so beautifully with those violet eyes, but he was. Everything was so perfectly aligned that day that you sometimes wondered if you had just imagined it all, as if he were but a mere phantasm in the breeze. A trick of the light to convince yourself that he was once yours.

Oh, but that moment was as real as it got. MC’s necklace may have come later, but those bracelets were yours first. Caleb was real, and that moment with him had been the one thing that you could call yours. Undeniably, indisputably yours.

But that was before the explosion. 

Like everything that you once could call your own, Caleb kept true to his word and never took the bracelet off, until it had been cruelly ripped from your grasp by the laughing elegist and the hands of fate. The facts were clearly written: Caleb survived the tragedy, Josephine did not. Caleb was now the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and his right arm had been reinforced with a metallic prosthetic. His veins became wires tangled red, green, and blue, and the bracelet was lost with the debris. 

His right arm was no longer yours. A part of Caleb’s heart was no longer yours.

The arm you had fastened the bracelet around could no longer feel. The hand you held that summer afternoon can no longer experience your warmth, now cold with the false promise of permanence. The arm that had worn your mark so easily until it hadn’t, under the blink of an eye. You never said it out loud, because acknowledging the thought felt monstrous, almost sacrilegious, but sometimes, you truly wondered if you cursed him. 

Like the marks you leave on the things you loved most were meant to waste away with time, and eventually vanish.

The sky isn’t blue anymore. It’s a dull shade of grey today, actually. That summer day no longer smells sweet but more like something decaying. The apples are long gone and rotten right to the core, but Caleb’s eyes are still that haunting shade of amethyst and still everything you love. 

Because some things, apparently, endure.

You’re partnered with MC on an Association mission today, but this particular mission has ties with Skyhaven. Skyhaven meant the Farspace Fleet. And of course, the Fleet meant seeing Caleb before the Association sent you to take care of the next bout of wanderers or whatever they were ready to throw at you today. It was rare for Linkon and Skyhaven’s affairs to intertwine, even though they ultimately shared similar end goals. At the end of the day, they were still interconnected pillars that wanted to get rid of wanderers. Hence why you were here.

You feel inside your pocket, making sure the box is intact. The mission briefing ran much longer than it should’ve, and people from the Fleet filed out in pairs and clusters, none of them sparing the members of the Hunters Association a second glance. Boots echo across the floors, and you linger inside the room, looking for the familiar set of violet eyes, a ghost of a smile forming on your face once they meet yours.

Caleb. 

“Hey,” he says, and you know that if you were MC, that greeting would’ve been followed with his endearing nickname for her, ‘pips’. Unfortunately, you weren’t MC, and you weren’t his pipsqueak. What exactly were you to him? You didn’t know. You were just… you. 

Was that enough for him?

“It’s rare seeing you in the Fleet. I wish you weren’t here at all, though. It gets real crazy here sometimes,” He ruffles your hair, and you couldn’t even return the action because of his big, stupid Colonel hat. “D’ya need something before the mission? My good luck charm, maybe?”

“Hmm, I dunno. Is your charm really all that good?” You smile up at him, his pretty eyes gazing into yours, and suddenly, the banter almost makes everything flicker with normalcy. Caleb was here again. You were here with him, and the stars are almost aligning, because the world, inexplicably, hasn’t taken everything from you yet. “I have a gift for you, actually.”

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” He asks as you slowly reach into your pocket, fingers brushing the fabric and metal. It makes you hesitate, like you were sixteen all over again that summer day and were afraid of Caleb’s reaction towards your handmade, woven bracelets. The soft beam on his face this time around made it easier on your nerves, though. “My birthday’s stiiill pretty far away, you know.” 

You exhale slowly, pulling out the box under his watchful gaze. “Something I made,” you murmur, “Again.”

The box opens, and your gift is finally on full display beneath the blinking fluorescent lights of the Fleet. There are two bracelets inside, woven crimson and ivory, just like before. Anyone could still tell that it’s handmade, but the handiwork is neater, and the thread is no longer fraying. You got rid of your matching half after the explosion, vowing to only wear it if Caleb had his part of the pair. The expression on his face is unreadable, and it makes your heart thump with apprehension all over again. 

“I thought–” you continue, staring at the box instead of at him, “that maybe we don’t get to keep things forever, but we can try to, anyway.”

“You made another set, after I lost mine when…” He trails off, and you nod. It’s the closest thing you’ve gotten to talking about the explosion, and Caleb’s jaw tightens. You knew he was no longer sixteen, and you don’t even know if he’s still entirely Caleb, the same one who held your hand that late summer afternoon, but that mark you left on him was still yours. Even as the dog tags beneath his uniform serve as a painful reminder that he will never be truly yours entirely. “Put it on me, again. Just like old times.”

He wordlessly holds out his wrist for you – the left one this time – and he doesn’t miss your painful gaze towards his bionic arm. You fasten it around his left wrist, the only arm that can feel anything anymore, and the mark is seared once again, even though the sky is still gray and the apples are long spoiled.

Despite all that time, Caleb is still beautiful, and that has never changed.

Then, he reaches for you, taking your wrist and gently tying the second bracelet there. If you squint, you could probably still see the marks left behind by the previous one. His fingers brush against your skin in a way that makes your breath hitch, and his tongue is pressed lightly to his teeth, like he’s afraid of making the knot too tight like before. “Do you remember what you said that day? How you predicted that I’d forget you in five years when I’m ‘super popular and cool’ once I was at the DAA?”

You meekly nod as he finishes the knot. It’s a perfect one this time. Not too tight to give you any rope burns, and not too loose that it would fall off. “Well, I think my words still stand. I most certainly never forgot you, you’re still way cooler than me, and definitely way cooler than anyone there.”

With that, his eyes softly whisper against your own. You look at each other – really look at each other this time – and his damned violet eyes catch the light, familiar and unbearable and intoxicating, all at once. You think of all those blue summer skies and Josephine’s red apples and all the ways those colors can merge into something sadder, yet far more alluring. A mixture that rests under Caleb’s eyes.

Your foreheads are nearly touching, and his breath stutters as you take his mechanical hand into your own, caressing the metal that took away your mark and a part of Caleb’s humanity. He pulls you closer with his free hand – the one with your newly made mark – almost like he was luring you in with his Gravity EVOL. But Caleb didn’t need to utilize his EVOL to pull you in; he did it all naturally. Him and his stupid good luck charm.

“You come back to me,” he quietly whispers, his breath hot against your own. If you listened closely enough, you could hear his erratically beating heart. You weren’t Caleb’s pipsqueak, but you could do all of this to him. You had this effect on him. This moment was yours, and you were going to selfishly savor it. Replay this scene until it one day swallows you whole. “You promise.”

For a single moment, the world finally narrows to just the two of you. The Fleet and the Hunter’s Association were just background noise. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes. You could feel the heat of your words just before you speak, just before he leans in and finally closes the gap. “I–”

“Caleb!”

MC’s voice cuts through the tension like a carefully positioned blade, and you immediately step back. Caleb withdraws his hand from the back of your neck like it stung, as if it never belonged there in the first place. The bracelet resting against your wrist feels hot to the touch. You wonder if it feels the same for Caleb, or if he’d eventually take it off sooner or later. MC’s looking at you expectantly, eyes bright and unaware of what just happened. “They’re calling us in. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you declare weakly, breath still stuck in your throat, something you’re unable to swallow. “I’m coming.”

The realization dawns on you faster than anything when MC offers you a big smile. You were right – from the very beginning, you didn’t hate MC. You never did. She’s kind, sweet, and constantly has your back during missions. No, you were angry at her presence. How it was practically impossible to hang out with just Caleb. It was always you, Caleb, and her. How the duo could never stay as a duo, no matter what. How your moments with Caleb can be so easily ripped from your grasp by MC because she was here first. Of course, it was always her first. 

Caleb needs to keep her safe first. To protect her first. She was his priority first. This was the status quo, and you had no say in changing the rules that were already set in stone a long time ago. Still, as you catch a glimpse of Caleb’s wrist before you leave, you make a silent vow to yourself, to the crimson and ivory resting on your own wrist. 

If you cursed Caleb with your first present, you silently pray that this time around, it will curse you instead of him.

The mission turned into a shitshow faster than you had initially anticipated.

You were so outnumbered from the very beginning that you wondered what the hell the Association was thinking when sending you two on this mission. Was this a fucking death trap specifically designed for you and MC? For everyone else dispatched here? There’s so much blood on the floor you could hardly distinguish your own from any wanderer that you had defeated.

Another wanderer goes down, collapsing onto the debris with a sound that rattles your bones and shoots directly to your ringing eardrums. Your sword is immediately knocked away from your hands by the next target, and it falls onto the ground with a deafening clatter. You need backup, and you need it now. You think about who to call – you would have called Xavier, but your Hunter’s watch is long broken, and he’s probably just as preoccupied as you two. 

The entire situation was so pitiful that you could have laughed if it weren’t for how fucked over you both were.

You look towards MC, and your eyes widen as she stumbles, her breath staggering and legs shaking. You’re already moving, just before she hits the ground. “MC!”

“Hey, hey, stay with me–” you scream out, dropping to your knees beside her. You use all your strength and bring the two of you to a nearby tree, praying that all the shrubs and bushes cover you from the wanderer’s sight. She’s breathing, shallow but steady, eyes unfocused as she tries her hardest to meet your gaze. You prop her against the trunk and cup her face, trying to keep her awake. “Please, fuck–”

She’s injured, but she’s alive. Good. That’s good. You just need to keep her alive long enough to get to a safe zone, or until help comes. Something warm spreads beneath your hunter’s uniform when you shift your weight, but you ignore the excruciating agony in your abdomen and focus on MC. A stab wound in your core. You don’t even know where it came from, and the adrenaline had masked the pain until now. Still, you’ve felt worse. Way worse than this. Right now, you just need to keep her alive, because–

Because of Caleb. Because Caleb needs her alive.

“You come back to me,” His words briefly echo in your ears, and it makes your eyes sting with tears. You don’t know if you can. “You promise.”

You’ve never broken any promises when it comes to Caleb, and he’s never broken any, either. But, technically, this time around, you didn’t promise him anything because MC had interrupted you before you could utter any words out. So, you didn’t exactly owe him anything. Your life was second to hers right now.

Sorry, Caleb.

“We need to move,” you say, hauling her arm over your shoulder. This spot was not going to be safe for long, and you didn’t have your sword. If any wanderer spots you, that’d be the end of your narrative. And you can’t have it end yet, not when MC isn’t safe. “Can you stand?”

She groans, teetering between a fine line of consciousness and unconsciousness. “You’re – you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you say automatically, even though you’re surprised that she noticed the wet blood staining the abdomen of your uniform. MC is a real sweetheart. Always thinking about other people when she’s equally as fucked over as you. That’s why you never truly hated her. How could you have the heart to do so?

She blinks up at you, trying to focus. “No, you’re not. I can see right through you.”

“We don’t have time for this,” you grit your teeth and force yourself upright despite your core screaming out in a horrid bout of pain. You bite your lip so hard that it draws blood, bringing MC up with you and ignoring her protests. You remember during the mission briefing that a safe zone was about… half a mile up north. Every staggering step sends a sharp reminder throughout your body, but you stubbornly don’t slow. “Caleb needs you out.”

MC shakes her head weakly. “What about you?”

You don’t answer, and she continues, a huff of air almost sounding like a laugh. “He loves you, you know.”

Her words make you freeze, and you turn to look at her. “Cares about you… a lot. Don’t just think about me.”

It’s hard not to, you want to say, but the words never leave your tongue. If Caleb had to choose, in a life-or-death situation, whether to save me or you, I think we all know the answer to that a little too well.

You make it to a clearing in the forest, and her grip on you suddenly tightens, enough to make you stop in your tracks, despite yourself. “Stop,” she says, practically pleading, panic creeping into her voice. “You can’t keep going like this.”

“Oh,” she looks down, really takes a second to see your condition, and her expression crumples, muttering out your name in concern. “You’re hurt. You’re really hurt.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeat, but your voice cracks, and your composure is breaking. 

She tries to pull away from you. “Put me down, this isn’t worth it–”

“No,” you say sharply. “If we wait–”

“You could pass out,” she says, tears welling in her eyes and fingers digging into your sleeve. “You’re not okay, please, you don’t have to do this–”

You don’t say what you’re thinking, but your answer is already written all over your face. You do have to do this, actually. This was never a question. The bracelet on your wrist feels even warmer than before. MC reaches for you, fumbling with her gear with her remaining strength. Her Hunter’s watch and her gun. The watch’s screen was still lit, and her gun had a few rounds inside.

“Here, use my watch. I can’t… hold on for much longer,” her eyes are glazing over, on the brink of passing out, and you place her gun in your holster and the watch around your wrist, trying to keep the both of you upright. “Call for help, but promise that you… think about yourself, too.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and meekly nod, taking her watch. Don’t say I promise to her, because you’re certain that you’ll break it. And you don’t make promises that you can’t keep. “Yeah. Sure.”

She smiles at that and goes limp in your arms. You suck in a breath, eyes flitting all over the screen as you thought about who to call. You try Xavier’s line and give up after a few rings. You just hope that he’s alright. Finally, your finger hovers over Caleb’s line. You know damn well that he’d respond, especially since this was MC’s watch, and not yours. The speaker rings once before the line opens. “Caleb, I need evac. Now.”

“Status.” His voice comes back sharp and controlled, and you realize that this wasn’t Caleb right now, but Colonel Caleb. 

“MC’s down, and–” I took a hit, and I’m bleeding out too. You’re unable to force those words out in between your labored breaths. “–she took a hit from a wanderer, and… I’m trying to take us to the nearby safe zone. I’m five minutes out.”

The world tilts as you haul MC’s weight higher against your shoulder. Your vision blurs at the edges, but you lock your jaw and keep moving. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s a shitshow out here, Caleb. I don’t have my sword, and she took a hit when I wasn’t looking–”

“When you weren’t looking?” His voice cuts through the line, tone hardening. You can hear him moving, probably running to his plane. “You’re supposed to cover for her.”

“I was,” you snap, the words tearing out of you like the flesh from your abdomen when the wanderer had stabbed you. “I was there, Caleb, I tried–”

“Then why the hell is she bleeding out?”

This was exactly what you expected. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him at all. His words hit harder than any wound you’ve sustained, and you stagger, barely managing to keep your footing – barely managing to keep MC upright with you. The pain is blooming, sharp and practically blinding, white-hot and so fucking unforgiving, and for a moment, you nearly cry out.

But you don’t. You tighten your grip on her instead.

“Damn it. The safe zone near you – I’m about ten minutes away from it. Can you make it there?”

You can hear it even through the static. The fear in his voice was raw, frantic, and all-consuming. The fear of losing MC eclipses everything else, swallowing whole whatever concern might have been meant for you. If MC was right – and Caleb really did love you – then his love was not enough to overcome the instinct carved into him long before you ever even entered his life.

Because she was here first. And you were not. And that’s just the way things were.

The thought makes something hysterical bubble in your chest. You laugh, or at least try to, but it breaks apart into an ugly cough, and more crimson stains your uniform.

“Yeah,” you manage out. “I think.”

You don’t know how you conjured up the strength to make it to the evac zone, but you do. The world narrows after your call began with Caleb, and the lights blur together into a pale white smear. Her weight grows heavier in your arms as she stirs, like she knew something was wrong with your staggering footsteps.

“You come back to me,”

“Promise that you… think about yourself, too.”

I’m sorry. To both of you.

Everyone finally notices you and MC, and your senses finally dull as your fingers slip from MC’s sleeve, letting someone else take her. Throughout all the clamor, someone begins assisting you, but you can’t feel anything. Trembling, your hand falls against your wrist, and the bracelet is still there. You think of Caleb’s left wrist and how it matched your own, and how that was the greatest salvation you could’ve asked for. You think about his right arm and how he never got to wear that first bracelet again after it got destroyed in the explosion. You wonder, briefly, if he’ll notice that this time, he’s going to be the one without the matching pair.

Caleb never once asks if you were alright.

His voice is still coming through MC’s watch – urgent and relieved that your location says that you’ve made it to the evac zone. Even though someone took her away already, you hear him telling her to hold on, and that he’s just a few minutes away with his plane. You smile faintly at that. Of course he is. He always makes it in time for her.

The poets and elegists from every era are calling out to you as they draft the final line of your narrative, and their hymns and elegies are beautiful. Your vision finally gives in, and the sky above is still a flat, unremarkable gray, nothing like that impossibly blue summer afternoon all those years ago. You suppose that’s fitting. Things were never meant to stay beautiful forever. The apples are no longer red. They’ve rotted a long time ago. Maybe Caleb’s eyes are no longer that same shade of ultraviolet, too. You wish you looked a little longer into his eyes, one last time, just to make sure.

The poet writing out your life taught you very early on that you were never first when it comes to Caleb. Maybe, in another life, Caleb would have chosen you over her. But this was not that life.

And even then, you think, loving him – loving him in the way you did – was still worth it.

Even now.

Especially now.

I FEEL TOO YOUNG TO HOLD ON / AND MUCH TOO OLD TO BREAK FREE AND RUN / TOO DEAF, DUMB AND BLIND TO SEE THE DAMAGE I’VE DONE / SWEET LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER.

update 1/28/2026: as this fic got so much more love than i expected (thank u everyone for all ur sweet comments btw i love you all <3) i am considering making a possible sequel in caleb’s perspective! if you would like to be added to the taglist then like this post and i shall tag u if i ever follow through :D

end note: i’ve seen a lot of caleb x non!mc reader fics that try and vilify mc or caleb and i just wanna emphasize how that was NEVER my intention with this fic! i tried my best to portray caleb’s turmoil over his entire existence revolving around protecting mc and the way he tries to make room for the reader, too — even though in the end, his innate instinct to save mc was what got the reader killed. his irrational fear of losing mc after years of protecting her was the reason why he overlooked the reader’s condition, but i promiseee that he mostly didn’t do it on purpose (even tho ik he was a bit of a dick in the ending its ok the reader’s ghost haunts him after she dies). his love for non!mc IS requited, but unfortunately was overshadowed by his devotion to mc, which was what ultimately doomed her in the end. so plz lmk ur thoughts on this!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

@kamieow 2026. reblogs are greatly appreciated ─ thank you so much for reading! <3

[sugarwarachan]

they get touya's obituary all wrong.

you read it on the train, the blur of the city whooshing past. you've been resisting this day, resisting the very idea that touya—dabi, you remind yourself, that's what everyone calls him now, ever since that video came out—probably wouldn't survive.

but it doesn't hurt any less to see the years he was alive stand so impersonally on your phone screen.

you dig the palm of your hand into an eyeball. tears form regardless, hot and fat, spilling down your cheeks and into the soft down of your scarf.

they don't mention that he used to leave out cans of food for the stray cats. he'd stand outside shaking the bag if one of them was late, hands on his hips like a disappointed mom.

there's nothing about how much he liked having his hair played with, that whenever he laid on your chest and you stopped fluffing it, he'd pull back and glare at you until you started again.

nothing about how he used to call you 'love' when he was tipsy, 'my darling' when he was drunk.

not a word about how sore of a loser he was in mario kart, or that he told you once that he'd like to be a really good dad.

"might be cool." you can still remember the sly glance he sent your way. "you know. if the world was different."

they get touya's obituary all wrong.

[piracytheorist]

I feel like one of the best ways Spy x Family presents its anti-war sentiment is how it presents the other side, the side that any lesser media would present simply as "the enemy".

Yuri is an interesting case, because he's not the average "Ostania 4 evur!" type of supremacist - and considering the target audience for this show is very much NOT nationalists and supremacists, this is a very smart move. What we've seen (in the anime) up to now from him, he's not in it because he believes Ostania is supreme for some reason - his only reason to work so hard in its service is because his sister lives in it. Sis lives in Ostania, I shall dedicate myself to Ostania! And while it's taken to an extreme, it's still way easier to relate to wanting to protect a beloved family member than to fucking nationalism.

And yet, even though we can understand why he's protective of Yor, we're not supposed to relate to the lengths he's taking that protection - either by being possessive of her or by wanting to take down Twilight. We saw Twilight's point of view, we know why he does what he does. It's his journey we follow - but then we see the other side. A young man who believes that this Twilight wants to make the world fall into chaos. Our immediate reaction is "No, he doesn't, you're an asshole and you should stop going after him!" but then you take a step back and think, hol'up. He's twenty. He idealizes his sister and his main reason for joining the secret services is to protect her and the country she lives in. Of course he would have been exposed to propaganda about how Westalis is filth and how its spies only want to destroy the beautiful world we have established as Good Ostanian PeopleTM. He's as much of a victim of it as anyone else in the country. And because of that, he not only opposes the character whose goal we're supposed to root for - he calls him a villain and his natural enemy.

The humanization of the "other side" is presented brilliantly here, because again, no extremist will watch this show and relate to it. People who love their family will. So making the antagonist's motivation be his love for his sister (even if it's to the extreme) is how it works to make the audience understand that war is not a natural instinct of humans; that even people who love their family, people like us, can be brainwashed into supporting war.

Our "enemy" is not the "other side"; it's the dehumanization of people, the propaganda and the lies the higher-ups promote in order to keep their high positions. And when we lose sight of that, we lose part of our humanity and understanding.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[kitkat13001]

shota looks up from his papers when you heave what’s probably the most dramatic sigh he’s ever heard. he casts you an exasperated glance before asking a reluctant, “what?”

you look up at him through your lashes from where you’re sat on the other side of the couch, prodding him with your foot. “do you even like me?”

he holds his deadpan gaze for a second longer before returning to his work. “i’m not going to answer that.”

“what?!” you sit up, appalled and scowling. you crawl over to lean heavy on his shoulder, determined to interrupt his peace. “what the hell does that mean?!”

“there’s no good answer for that,” he replies, (mostly) unbothered to your pervasion of his personal space. “if i say yes, you’ll say something like ‘so you don’t love me’ and if i say no, you’ll have a fit. if i say ‘i love you’ you’ll say i didn’t answer your question. there’s no winning.”

you sit, dumbfounded. he’s got you there... 

“but—”

“yes, i like you. love you, even. no, i don’t want to break up. yes, i think about you every day and yes, i miss you when i’m away on missions. and no, i do not want anyone else. just you.”

he looks up and holds your gaze steady, the hint of a self-satisfied smirk tugging his lips at your wide eyes and flushed cheeks. you huff a little, bashful as you settle back onto him, placated by his answer (…for now).

several moments pass in soft silence until you open your mouth to say something else and shota drops his pen, heaving out a long-suffering sigh. 

“and yes, i would still love you if you were a worm.”

[illumilu]

spoilers for the chimera ant arc; episode 135 !!

episode 135 dialogue; the last words of meruem and komugi. 

-

- “4-4-1, pawn.”

- “6-5-1, knight.”

- “2-7-2, new spy. komugi, are you still there?”

- “yeah, sure am. i’m not going anywhere. 4-5-1, lieutenant general.”

- “that’s checkmate.”

-

- “komugi, are you still here?”

- “yes, yes… i’m right here. let’s play another match? the loser goes first.”

- “komugi…”

- “yes, yes? what is it?”

- “it appears i never defeated you a single time.”

- “what are you saying? we’ve only gotten started!”

- “you’re right…”

-

- “1-5-1, marshal.”

- “9-5-1, marshal.”

- “komugi, are you still here?”

- “yes, of course. it’s your turn, meruem-sama.”

- “i’m a little tired…

i need to take a short nap.

will

you hold my hand?

komugi?

komugi, are you there?”

- “i can hear you. i understand. like this?”

- “i’ll wake up shortly.

will you stay by my side until i wake?”

- “i’ve never left your side.

i’ll always be here.”

- “komugi…”

- “yes, yes? what is it?”

- “thank you.”

- “you’re welcome.”

- “will you call me…”

- “yes?”

- “…by my name one last time?”

-

- “goodnight,

meruem.

i’ll be joining you

soon.”

[chenechen]

Some fun facts regarding real life Nakahara Chuuya

According to the book “文豪どうかしてる逸話集,” one time when Nakahara Chuuya got drunk, he went to Dazai Osamu’s house and cursed “moron! moron!” in front of his face. Dazai’s reaction to this sudden abuse is said to be hiding under his blanket and cried.

(real life Nakahara Chuuya)

When the Blue Flower Club went drinking, Chuuya got drunk and started harassing Dazai, saying: “ Why the hell do your face looks like a flying blue mackerel? What kind of flower do you like anyway?” Dazai, with trembling voice, answered: “Peach Blossom,” to which Chuuya replied: “ Tch, that’s why you suck.”

(real life Dazai Osamu)

  Since Chuuya had this tendency to being rude and straight forward, Dazai once decsribed him as “ a guy glistening like a slug. I really cannot hang out with him.” There are many more stories about Chuuya being a gremlin to people around him. It’s said that one time Chuuya yelled: “ Hey you damn governor” at Sakaguchi Ango while staying one meter away from him, because Chuuya was smaller in size compared to Ango and couldn’t win in a fight.

(real life Sakaguchi Ango)

 Another time when the group of friends were drinking, a drunk Chuuya smashed a bottle on Nakamura Mitsuo’s head, yelling: “Imma kill you.” When his friend scolded him for acting so terriblly, Chuuya started crying and shouted: “I’M SAD!”

(the poor victim Nakamura Mitsuo)

[arrblgs]

actual demon behavior 😭😭

[mochilly]

— Ayato Kamisato rentry graphics. ܀⊹

𓂃 Like or reblog and credit if using . ♡

𓂃 If you have a request, please specify what you want . 🧋

[arrblgs]

yes, i want to dance on the street at 3am while its pouring, i want to run across the beach--my hand in yours, i want to lie on the roof and stare at the stars with you. yes i want to go to the rundown movie theaters, i want to ride the ferris wheel and make stupid love confessions. yes, i want dramatic confessions, i want you to say every single thing you love about me and why, no its not corny. i want to be told how much i mean to you, i want to be your precious, i want to be complimented by you in a genuine manor. i want to be loved and held, i want to run on an empty field with your hand in mine. i want to sneak out of the house with you while we do who knows what. i want you to go down on one knee jokingly as we both laugh our hearts out. i want to ride in the grocery cart while you push me. i want to be loved in a stupid yet devoted way. i want you to miss me. i want you to yearn for me. i want you to give me stupid things. i want you to be reminded of me whenever you see something remotely similar. i want you to whisper sweet promises in my ear. i want to laugh out loud with you. i want forever with you.

[arrblgs]

togame is literally the type to put his jacket over your shoulders. he's INCREDIBLY observant like he just knows when ur not feeling alright and he knows how to comfort u so good </3 he loves physical touch if its you, loves when you tie his hair for him, loves when you hold his hand and he loves initiating contact too <3 he definitely knows abt boundaries and just talks to you in the most gentlest voice ever.

[tata-is-the-name]

Noooooooo, don't do this to me when I have a Shishitoren jacket draped over my gaming chair whenever I wake up and this is the scenario I read first thing in the morning 🥹😩🤌😩🤌🤌

[arrblgs]

AAAA IM SO GLAD U ENJOYED THIS SILLY HC 😭😭may we all get a togame in our lives

[whosashan]

Hello! I had a super fluffy idea for LADS. Mc who always tries to laugh politely until one day one thing or the other happens and they just. Cackle. A full body wheezing laugh, snorts, the works. The boys just being absolutely smitten with this new side of Mc and I just— AGH.

Anyways, I hope you have a nice day!

Oops..!

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader (reader is implied to be the MC in Caleb's part)

SYNOPSIS: Caught in the tide of the moment, you let your true laugh escape—unfiltered, unguarded—for the first time in their presence.

A/N: That was such a cute request, thank you! Hope you enjoy :]

The dim glow of your phone screen flickered against the walls, casting soft shadows across the room. Outside, the rain pattered steadily against the window, the rhythmic sound blending with the low hum of the heater. It was one of those nights—quiet, intimate, where the world outside felt distant, leaving only the two of you in your little cocoon of warmth.

You sat nestled against your lover on the couch, his arms draped lazily over your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. The scent of him—familiar, grounding—filled your senses, an anchor you didn’t quite realize you needed. His slow, steady breaths brushed against your hair, lulling you further into comfort.

You had been together for a few months now. Long enough to settle into a routine, to share soft touches and quiet nights, but there was still a part of you that held back. A quiet restraint. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—God, you did—but you still wanted to maintain that polished image, the one that made you feel… presentable. Safe.

So, even now, as you scrolled through your phone, watching video after video designed to squeeze laughter from you, you kept your reactions measured. A gentle giggle here, a muffled chuckle there, a hand pressed delicately over your mouth. Meanwhile, your lover, equally engrossed, would occasionally let out a low chuckle or murmur some offhand comment about whatever played on the screen.

Then it happened.

Something he said—so completely unexpected, perfectly timed, effortlessly hilarious—struck you like a bolt of lightning.

The laughter ripped out of you before you could stop it.

Not the soft, practiced giggles you had so carefully maintained, but a full-bodied, unrestrained, reckless sound. Your head tilted back, body shaking as you gasped for air between uncontrollable wheezes. A slap to your thigh, followed by another, and then—oh, God—a snort. A loud, undignified one.

Mortification slammed into you.

Xavier

When Xavier heard it—really heard it—he swore he could feel his heart melting.

How could you have hidden this from him? That sound—so unfiltered, so raw—hit him like a warm wave, wrapping around him and pulling him under before he even had a chance to react. It wasn’t just a laugh; it was you, in your purest form, and it made his chest ache in the best way possible.

Sure, he always thought you were silly, but never in a way he’d tease you for. No—this was different. It was the kind of silly he wanted to keep forever, the kind that made him think, I want to hear this sound for the rest of my life.

His own laughter bubbled up before he could stop it, carried away by the sheer joy of you. It was contagious, impossible to resist. But when he saw your mortified expression—the way your eyes widened, hands flying up to cover your mouth—he sobered just enough to reassure you. A warm smile curved his lips as he cupped your cheek, thumb brushing gently against your heated skin.

"Never hide your true self from me again, okay?" His voice was softer than usual, but there was something new in it—a tenderness that settled deep in his tone, something reverent, as if he were committing this moment to memory.

You looked away, embarrassed, your face flushed all the way to the tips of your ears. His words, so effortless yet so intentional, made your heart stutter. And the fact that he was acting so casual about it only made it worse.

"...It’s embarrassing," you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Xavier let out a quiet huff of amusement before tilting your chin back toward him. Then, without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his hands, molding your face into a ridiculous shape. His expression, however, remained perfectly serious.

"Absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about," he stated, his grip tightening just slightly for emphasis.

Your words came out muffled against his hold. "Alright, alright—!" You swatted weakly at his hands, surrendering with a breathless chuckle.

And then, just as quickly as the moment had come, your laughter returned—softer this time, but no less genuine. Xavier let go, only to watch in satisfaction as that small, easy smile took its place.

You never had anything to be worried about, after all.

Zayne

Zayne hadn't expected it. Not the sound of your laughter—unrestrained, unfiltered, so unlike the polite chuckles you usually allowed yourself. And certainly not the way it affected him.

It was foolish, really, how something so simple could send an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest, how his carefully composed demeanor fractured in the wake of your joy. But there he was, caught in the moment, lips curling into a rare, unbidden smile.

His sharp, refined features softened, betraying something unspoken—something close to reverence. This wasn’t just amusement to him; it was trust, a glimpse of something so deeply you that it left him spellbound.

But then, just as quickly, you withdrew.

"I'm so sorry, I don’t know what came over me..." You rushed out, voice tinged with panic, fingers tightening around the fabric of your sleeve as if grounding yourself.

His expression darkened—not in anger, but something dangerously close to disappointment.

"Why would you apologize?"

Before you could shrink further into yourself, he reached for you, his touch deliberate as he smoothed a hand over your shoulder. His movements were slow, calculated, meant to ease the tension in your frame.

“Do not diminish something so precious,” he murmured, his voice velvet-soft yet laced with quiet intensity. “It just so happens that the sound of your laughter may be my new favorite thing about you. And rest assured, my dear, I intend to hear it again.”

The certainty in his words sent heat rushing to your cheeks, your earlier embarrassment now replaced with something far sweeter, far more dangerous.

You hesitated before speaking, your lips curving into something playful despite the lingering warmth in your chest.

"Well then, Dr. Zayne..." You drew out his name, reaching up to pinch his cheek in a teasing display of defiance. “I’ll make sure you get sick of it.”

His gaze darkened—not in displeasure, but in something richer, something indulgent.

He caught your wrist, turning it over in his grasp with a featherlight touch, then pressed a lingering kiss to your palm.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he whispered against your skin, before leaning in to place a final, impossibly tender kiss to your forehead.

Rafayel

“Oh my god—did you just snort?”

Rafayel’s voice rang out, rich with amusement, his deep chuckle reverberating through the dimly lit room. The golden glow of the floor lamp cast shadows along the sharp angles of his face, his blue-pink eyes glinting with something unreadable—something between adoration and mischief.

He wasn’t laughing at you. No, the thought never even crossed his mind. He was laughing because it was you, because this moment, so unguarded and raw, was unexpectedly perfect.

But you didn’t see it that way.

A mortified groan left your lips as you shrank into the plush couch cushions, turning your face away from him, heat rushing up your neck. “...So what?” you mumbled, voice muffled, fingers curling into your sleeves as if that would somehow make you disappear.

For once, Rafayel didn’t push. Didn’t lean into his usual brand of relentless teasing. No sly remarks, no playful taunts—just silence, thoughtful and heavy, as he observed you with an expression far softer than before.

And then, before you could protest, he pulled you into his arms.

His grip was firm, grounding, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as he buried his face into your hair. A slow inhale, as if he was memorizing your scent, as if this was something fragile, something precious.

“Aww, cutie, no need to be embarrassed,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You tensed, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he shifted, his fingers finding yours, tracing slow, absentminded circles along your knuckles. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its usual teasing lilt, replaced by something quieter, something real.

“I’ve never heard anything like that before,” he admitted, a rare sincerity lacing his tone. “It was unexpected, sure—but it was you. And that means it was perfect.”

Your chest tightened at his words, at the way his arms remained around you, unwavering, patient.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you muttered, voice small, but your resolve was already beginning to crack.

He hummed, tilting your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to meet his gaze. The playfulness was still there—of course, it was Rafayel—but beneath it lay something deeper, something unshakable.

“Well, that, but also…” He leaned in, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “I truly mean it. Laugh around me more, okay?”

You narrowed your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Rafayel gasped, clutching his chest in feigned betrayal before dramatically pinching your nose between two fingers, making you yelp. “Don’t you dare hide such a treasure from me!”

You groaned, swatting at him, but the fight had already left you. Because even through the teasing, the mischief, the absurd dramatics—you knew.

You knew that to Rafayel, every part of you was something worth cherishing.

Sylus

Mortification coiled tight in your chest, making it impossible to meet Sylus’s gaze. You trusted him, of course—you knew he wouldn’t judge you—but that didn’t stop the nagging insecurity gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Sylus was always so composed, so effortlessly refined, his words always carefully chosen, his every move exuding an unshakable grace. And here you were, sinking further into the plush couch, burning with embarrassment over something as ridiculous as a misplaced snort.

What must he think of you now?

A deep chuckle rumbled from beside you, rich and velvety, carrying an almost amused warmth. “I knew you had it in you, sweetie.”

The gentle teasing in his voice made you peek up at him, brows furrowed in uncertainty. His expression was unreadable at first—calm, as always, but softened at the edges by something far more tender. You searched his gaze, those sharp crimson eyes gleaming with a quiet affection that made your stomach twist in ways you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

His fingers wove through your hair, slow and deliberate, the touch featherlight. “I understand you may feel slightly… embarrassed,” he mused, his voice a soothing hum against the quiet of the dimly lit room. His hand slid down, fingertips tracing your cheek before his thumb brushed over the heated skin. “But I assure you—I've never heard a sound so beautiful.”

You sucked in a breath, warmth blooming across your face. Of course, he would flirt his way out of this. Of course.

And yet… you didn’t mind.

The tension in your shoulders eased, replaced by something lighter, something almost intoxicating. You let out a quiet sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I just snorted in front of the leader of Onychinus…” you muttered, rubbing your temple in exasperation. But despite your words, a smile had already begun to tug at your lips.

Sylus only chuckled, tilting his head ever so slightly before reaching up to pinch your cheek—not hard, just enough to make you look at him again. His smirk was entirely too pleased.

“The leader of Onychinus,” he repeated, voice dripping with amusement, “knows how to appreciate true beauty when he sees it.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a murmur. “And you, darling, are nothing short of a masterpiece.”

Flustered beyond reason, you let out a groan before landing a light punch against his arm, making him laugh.

Maybe Sylus wasn’t as intimidating as you thought. Or maybe—just maybe—he was far more dangerous in an entirely different way.

Caleb

Caleb was no stranger to your laughter—the wild, unrestrained kind that always came from deep within your chest, the one that had haunted your teenage years with its sheer unpredictability. He had heard it countless times before, back when things were simpler, when you were nothing more than an impulsive, wide-eyed girl who never cared how she sounded or looked.

But now? Now things were different.

You weren’t that reckless teenager anymore. You had grown, refined yourself, learned to move with grace and carry yourself with poise. You wanted Caleb to see you as a woman—not the clumsy girl he used to tease mercilessly, not some silly childhood memory.

And yet, all of that crumbled the moment the sound left you.

A full, shameless snort.

Mortification hit like a wave, heat flooding your face as you turned to him, your eyes narrowing in a silent dare, challenging him to say anything.

But Caleb—damn him—only laughed, a rich, familiar chuckle that sent warmth curling through your chest in a way you weren’t ready to admit. “There it is!” he said, grinning as he reached out to ruffle your hair, the same way he used to when you were kids.

You groaned, swatting his hand away. “You are insufferable.”

His hand lingered for a moment before falling away, his gaze softening as he looked at you—really looked at you. To him, that laugh wasn’t something to be hidden or tamed. It was a sound he had carried with him through years of change and distance, something that had always felt like home.

And now that he had heard it again, he wasn’t going to let it slip away so easily.

“That’s the last time you’re hearing it,” you mumbled, turning away, trying desperately to compose yourself. But you couldn’t will away the flush creeping up your neck, nor the way your heart hammered against your ribs.

“No way, pipsqueak,” he murmured, moving in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

You stiffened. His voice had dropped just slightly—low, teasing, but with an undeniable weight to it. A promise.

“Now that I’ve heard it again,” he continued, dangerously close now, “I won’t stop until it’s the only sound you make.”

You barely had a second to react before his hands were at your sides, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. Then—pure chaos.

A startled shriek left you as he tickled you mercilessly, his movements swift, relentless. You thrashed against him, laughter bubbling up from your chest, unrestrained and wild, that same shameless snort slipping through again.

But this time, you weren’t embarrassed.

Somewhere between the helpless gasps for breath and the way his laughter mixed with yours, something shifted.

You felt… at peace. Like maybe, just maybe, hiding yourself had never been worth it in the first place.

"You're so gonna regret this!" you gasped between fits of laughter, half a threat, half a plea.

Caleb only grinned, utterly triumphant. “Doubt it, sweetheart.”

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

No, we're not soulmates. This is not divine intervention. And this is most certainly not chance. I willed this. I knit the threads of fate myself until they spelled your name.

I love you intentionally. I love you with every bit of conscience I was born with.

— marsadist (via twitter)

[gojom0jo]

GOJO SATORU X READER feat. MEGUMI

➛ summary: when Megumi sees you kissing Santa, he knows he has to tell Satoru. But what if Santa is closer than he thinks?

➛ warnings: dad!Gojo, a little angst because of sad megumi (poor baby), fem!reader, fluff, happy ending

➛ wc: 1.4k

➛ a/n: another Christmas drabble. I know a lot of people have done the ‘I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus’ idea, so this is my take on it. I think I got one more drabble to go after this.

Satoru presses a kiss to your sleeping face before he slips out of bed, heading to the kitchen to get the coffee started.

He watches you stir slightly as he creeps out of the room. He’s trying to be a good husband and let you sleep a little longer before the festive madness begins.

It’s 5am on Christmas morning. He knows Megumi will most likely be up soon so he wants at least one of you to be awake to greet him.

Satoru creeps along the hallway quietly before he reaches the top of the stairs.

His brows furrow when he sees a small form sitting at the bottom already.

“Merry Christmas, Megs. What are you doing up so early, bud?” He says softly as he climbs down the stairs.

The white haired man gasps as a very teary eyed Megumi looks up at him as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on? What’s got you so upset?” Satoru coos at the young boy.

Megumi sniffles as he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hands. The poor boy looks like his whole world is falling apart sitting there in his reindeer pjs.

“Megumi, you’re worrying me. What’s going on?” Satoru can feel his heart rate speeding up. What the hell was going on? Who upset him and on Christmas morning of all days.

“I-I need to t-tell you something.” Megumi sniffles. “Ok?” Satoru encourages. “B-but I’m w-worried about what will h-happen.” More tears begin to flow down his reddened cheeks.

“Worried what will happen, Megs?” Satoru questions, confusion lacing his voice as he takes a seat next to him on the step. “That w-we won’t be a f-family anymore.” Megumi’s tears begin to flow heavier and it’s breaking Satoru’s heart.

What the hell is going on?

“Why wouldn’t we be a family anymore?” Satoru asks, his brows furrowing in further confusion. “C-cause I saw s-something b-ba—bad.” Megumi sobs.

Satoru moves to crouch in front of the boy so he can look him in the eyes.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, bud. I need you to tell me what you saw because you’re really making me worried now.” Satoru says gently as he takes one of Megumi’s hands, trying to hide the way his own hands shake with anxiety.

“I promise you I’m not gonna be mad and you aren’t gonna be in trouble. I just need you to tell me what happened.” He tells him as calmly as possible.

Megumi’s small form shakes as he continues to cry.

“Take a deep breath for me.” Satoru coos softly. “In—“ he demonstrates by inhaling, “and out.” He watches Megumi copy his breathing. “One more time.” Satoru encourages.

Megumi lets out a final shaky breath as his navy eyes focus on Satoru.

“Alright?” Satoru asks, hand still holding Megumi’s small one. Megumi nods his head slowly, eyes still filled with unshed tears.

“Ok, now tell me what you saw, buddy.” Satoru directs calmly.

Megumi uses his free hand to wipe at his sniffling nose. “L-last night I s-saw Y/N—“ he begins as new tears threaten to fall, his bottom lip wobbling. “Saw her doing what?” Satoru encourages, his heart pounding against his ribs.

He really hopes Megumi can’t hear or sense how anxious he is. He doesn’t want to upset him even more.

“S-she was k-kissing Santa.” Megumi finishes as a few new tears finally slip. “A-and I know t-that’s b-bad cause she’s your w-wife so she’s only s-supposed to k-kiss y-you.” His small voice whimpers.

Satoru’s whole body sags with relief. This is what has him so worked up?

Last night you’d helped Satoru get all dressed up in his Santa costume, even helping him shove a pillow under his shirt to make the big round belly.

The last 2 Christmas’s you guys have had Megumi living with you, he sneaks out of bed every Christmas Eve. Quietly creeping down the stairs to see if he can catch a glimpse of Santa.

So this year Satoru hired a Santa costume with the plan to let Megumi catch ‘Santa’ in the act.

Everything had gone exactly as planned.

Satoru waited in the living room, with you hiding out of Megumi’s line of sight, waiting to hear the pitter patter of Megumi’s little feet creeping downstairs to wait for Santa.

When the telltale pitter patter came, Satoru sprang into action.

He crept quietly around the living room placing Megumi’s presents under the tree. Pretending to be completely unaware of the small boy's presence.

You’d both had to stifle your laughter when you heard his little gasp at the fact he’d finally caught Santa at work.

Eventually, when all the presents had been put under the tree, Satoru stretched up letting out a “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas.” Changing the timber in his voice to camouflage who he was.

After that you’d heard Megumi’s feet skittering back up the stairs before he would be caught.

Or at least you thought you did.

Once you’d thought Megumi was gone you’d come out of your hiding spot, walking over to Satoru with a giggle.

You’d chatted for a few seconds before you’d told him “Merry Christmas, Santa.” And your husband had leaned in for a kiss.

Unbeknownst to both of you. The young boy must have crept back down the stairs.

That’s what Megumi must have seen.

You kissing ‘Santa Claus’.

“I-I don’t w-want us to n-not be a f-family anymore.” Megumi cries.

Satoru smiles at him softly.

Sure the kid gave him attitude a lot of the time — although he had learned a lot of said attitude from Satoru himself — but he loved Megumi and he loved being a family.

“Calm down, buddy. Ok? It’s all gonna be alright.” Satoru comforts as he sits back on the step beside him, rubbing his back.

Satoru wraps his arm around the small boy's shoulders.

He’s racking his brain, desperately trying to think of a way to calm Megumi down about what happened without spoiling the magic of Christmas for him.

That’s when an idea pops into his head.

“Hey, Megs. You saw Santa last night, right?” Satoru asks. “Y-yeah.” The dark haired boy sniffles. “You get a good look at him?” Satoru continues. “Yeah.” Megumi nods.

Satoru tries to hide his grin.

“Was there anything you recognised about him?” Satoru questions. “Anything look familiar?” He pushes.

Megumi’s brows furrow as his little brain works overtime to think about what Santa looked like.

Red suit. White hair. White beard. Boots. Blue eyes. Dark sunglasses.

Blue eyes? Dark sunglasses?

“He h-had blue eyes. L-like yours.” Megumi stutters, his tears beginning to slow down. “A-and glasses. L-like the ones y-you wear too.”

Satoru finally lets his grin show.

“Hm, is that right?” Satoru winks.

Megumi gasps so loud that Satoru is surprised he didn’t wake half the neighbourhood.

“I-it was you! You’re Santa!” Megumi squeals, eyes wide like saucers. “Shhh!” Satoru hushes him. “It’s true. I’m Santa. But you can’t tell any of the other kids, alright? It’s a secret.” He whispers.

Megumi pretends to zip his lips and throw away the key, making Satoru chuckle.

“D-does Y/N know you’re Santa?” Megumi whispers. “Of course she does! That’s why she gave me a kiss.” Satoru reasons. Megumi nods along like everything now makes perfect sense.

“S-so we’re still a family?” Megumi asks softly. “Of course we are. Always will be.” Satoru smiles as he pulls him in for a side hug.

Megumi wraps his small arms around Satoru, his breathing finally becoming relaxed.

They sit in silence for a little longer before the small boy lets out a yawn.

“Hey, you wanna stay up with me or go sleep a little longer?” Satour asks quietly. “I think I’m gonna go back to sleep for just a little bit.” Megumi says as he rubs his eyes.

Poor kid is exhausted after all those mental gymnastics.

“Alright, you go sleep and I’ll be down here when you wake up.” Satoru smiles at him.

Megumi stands and begins to make his way back upstairs.

Satoru stands, about to walk off to the kitchen when Megumi calls for him from halfway up the stairs.

“Satoru?” Megumi calls. “Yeah, buddy?” The white haired man responds. “I-I—um—love you. And I love our family.” He says shyly.

Satoru feels his heart swell as well as tears in his eyes.

“I love you too, Megs. And I love our little family very much.” He smiles softly. Megumi just nods before he proceeds up the stairs.

Jeez. What an eventful start to Christmas Day.

[jaysng]

tickling your sides — kim mingyu

pairing: husband!mingyu x wife!reader

genre: comedy, fluff

summary: just mingyu being a teasing fuck as always.

You both lay on the bed, limbs tangled beneath the warmth of the duvet, the soft glow of TikTok videos flickering in the otherwise dark room. The gentle buzz of the phone mixes with the quiet of the night, creating a perfect sense of calm.

Your freshly shaved, smooth legs are nestled against Mingyu’s, the contrast between his hairy, muscular leg and your glazed-donut-soft skin making the difference all the more noticeable.

You feel his presence so vividly, his warmth radiating off his body and onto yours.

Mingyu’s large frame dominates most of the bed, his arm lazily resting behind his head while the other one holds his phone, scrolling through mindless content. You’re watching too, giggling at the random videos, when suddenly you feel it—his foot brushing against your leg, then retreating like it didn’t just happen.

The ticklish sensation makes you twitch, but you ignore it, assuming it was an accident.

A couple more videos play, but then, it happens again—this time with more intent.

His hairy leg lightly swipes across your smooth skin again, teasingly. You look over at him, already knowing he’s got that mischievous glint in his eye. He’s acting like he’s completely focused on the screen, but you know better.

“Mingyu, stop,” you say, your tone a mix of amusement and warning.

He chuckles but doesn’t look at you, still pretending he’s interested in whatever TikTok is on. “What?” he says, completely feigning innocence.

You roll your eyes but let it go, settling back into the comfort of the bed. The video on his phone switches to something else, and you relax, thinking the moment has passed. But then, without warning, his hand sneaks under the blanket and his fingers brush lightly over your side, right under your rib cage—the spot that always gets you.

You flinch immediately, your body reacting before your mind even registers it, and you squirm away from him, a laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. “Stop it, Mingyu! I’m serious!”

He’s grinning now, full-on amused with himself, his deep, low laughter rumbling in the quiet room. “I didn’t do anything,” he says, but the mischievous glint in his eyes tells a different story.

You give him a warning look, still smiling though, and try to focus on the phone. But, predictably, his hand moves again, this time poking your side more deliberately. His fingers dig lightly into your side through the blanket, and you jump again, letting out a half-scream, half-laugh.

“Mingyu!” you shout, swatting at his hand as you try to wriggle away from him under the covers.

He’s laughing harder now, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he enjoys every second of your reaction. “I’m just keeping you awake,” he teases, pulling his hand back but clearly not ready to stop.

You give him a playful glare, shifting away from him slightly, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he tries again. And, sure enough, after a few seconds of calm, his hand darts out one more time, and his fingers find your side yet again, this time really going for it. The blanket muffles your squeal as you try to wriggle away from his grasp, but it’s no use. He’s got you pinned.

“That’s it!” you exclaim, pulling yourself up slightly. “I’m not sleeping with you anymore!”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, still laughing as you dramatically try to yank his pillow out from under his head. You grip it with both hands, determined to show him you mean business, but his muscular body barely moves. You pull harder, but his strength is no match for yours, and the pillow doesn’t budge an inch.

He’s laughing even more now, his deep, booming laugh filling the room as you struggle to pull the pillow. “Oh, come on!” he says between breaths, clearly entertained by your effort. “You really think you can take my pillow?”

You let out an exaggerated huff, giving the pillow one last pull before finally giving up. “You’re so annoying,” you mutter, sitting back down with your arms crossed, still glaring at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” he says, still chuckling but trying to sound sincere. He sits up slightly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I won’t do it anymore, I promise.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “God promise?”

He bites his lip, trying to hold back a grin. “God promise,” he repeats, his voice dripping with faux sincerity.

You eye him suspiciously for a moment before deciding to trust him. “Alright then,” you say, settling back down beside him. You both shift under the blanket, the mood calming down as you cuddle closer, your head resting against his shoulder.

For a few minutes, everything is peaceful again, and you let yourself relax, thinking that maybe—just maybe—he’s actually done messing with you.

But of course, this is Mingyu. Just when you think the teasing is over, you feel him shift beside you, his hand moving under the blanket again. You tense up immediately, eyes wide as you turn to him.

“Mingyu…” you warn, your voice low but sharp.

He grins at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t even touch you!” he says, his voice full of fake innocence as his hand hovers just above your side, threatening to tickle without actually doing it.

“Mingyu, I swear!” you say, swatting at his hand, but he pulls it back before you can make contact. You narrow your eyes at him, fully irritated now, but also unable to stop the smile creeping onto your face. “You said God promise!”

He shrugs, that grin still plastered on his face. “I didn’t break it. I didn’t even touch you.”

“You’re impossible,” you groan, rolling your eyes but unable to stop laughing as you nudge him with your elbow.

“I didn’t break the promise!” he protests, leaning over to nuzzle his face into your neck, his deep voice vibrating against your skin. “I’m innocent!”

“Yeah, right,” you mutter, still trying to act annoyed but your resolve weakening as you feel his warmth against you.

“Come on, don’t be mad,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, teasing fading into affection as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sigh, giving in as you let yourself relax into his embrace, feeling the familiar comfort of being close to him. The irritation fades quickly, replaced by that cozy, warm feeling that only he can give you.

“I’m still mad,” you say, but your voice is softer now, no real bite behind it.

Mingyu laughs quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Sure you are.”

The two of you fall back into a comfortable silence, the warmth of his body enveloping you as you drift off together, TikToks forgotten as the night settles in around you.

do not copy or plagiarize my work — @/jaysng

[arrblgs]

SOMEONE FUCKING SEDATE ME

[jeonsupershy]

alexa play water by svt