xiaberryy

[xiaberryy]

Don't know if you will accept this one because not everyone is comfortable with writing for pregnancy trope. But i will try. 😭

Imagine the reader is pregnant, and for some reason, she can't get to the hospital or opted for giving birth at home, and the labor starts with just the reader and the boys, how would they react? (Zayne would go well, I guess lol)

Anyway, I gotta say I am obsessed with your writing ✍️ 🤤🥰

It honestly took me forever to get this request done, but here it is—finally! I ended up splitting it into two parts, including a bit of my own experience with childbirth.

The main challenge was that, even when extreme, birth tends to follow a similar pattern. I didn’t want to lean into unnecessary drama, so I approached it differently: wrote one complete mini-fic and turned the rest into short drabble-style sketches, which I’ll be posting here.

You can read more about Xavier/MC’s story here. I chose him simply because I hadn’t written anything focused on him in a while—and it just flowed (from pen... well, keyboard) that way.

CT/WT: birth scene, childbirth, emergency birth, home birth, water birth, airplane birth, snowstorm birth, intense emotional content, partner support, soft!men, vulnerable!men, protective partner, found family, twins, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, fatherhood, new dad energy, birth fic, drabble collection, first-time dad, emotional whump, soft smutless intimacy, love confession, trauma comfort, birth complications, raw vulnerability, medical emergency, no smut just feelings, domestic intensity. Headcanon!!!

🖤 SYLUS — The Moment He Realizes It’s Up to Him (Home Birth, Unprepared Conditions)

The Second It Clicks: You gasp. Double over. He’s at your side in a heartbeat. “Is it time?” You nod. Pain. Panic. Wet warmth. His blood freezes — then boils. No hospital. No doctor. No help. Just him.

His First Thought? “Fuck. No. Not like this. You deserve better.” Not chaos. Not uncertainty. Not cold floors and towels that aren’t sterile. He’s Sylus — he controls everything. But this? This is the one thing he can’t delay, buy, or dominate. It’s coming. Now.

Terror?Not for himself. For you. For the pain in your eyes, the grip of your hand, the sheer fragility of the moment. His entire being rallies like a war horn blaring inside his chest. “If the universe put this in my hands, then it’s getting the best fucking performance of my life.”

What he does first:He lowers you carefully to the bed. Kisses your knuckles, even as he’s barking quiet orders into a phone no one picks up. His voice is deep, steady. But his heart is galloping. He never lets you see it. Never lets his fear break through. You deserve certainty, and he’ll give it to you — even if he’s unraveling at the seams.

What He Says:“Kitten. Look at me.” You do. Eyes wide. Brave. Terrified. “You trust me?” You nod. “Then breathe. I’ve got this. I’ve got you. I always have.”

What He Feels:You’re vulnerable. And you’re still the strongest creature he’s ever seen. He wishes he could take the pain. Rip it from you and carry it in his own bones. But this is your war. And all he can do is be the sword and the shield. “Don’t you dare break on me, baby. You’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

And when you cry out —Something inside him shatters. Not weakness. Not panic. Love. The kind that could burn cities. The kind that makes gods kneel. He wipes your brow with trembling fingers, and for the first time in years, he whispers: “Please. Just let me do this right.”

The First Push:Your nails dig into his forearm. Hard. He doesn't flinch. He leans in, forehead almost touching yours. “That’s it. Breathe through it. I’ve got you.” Your body trembles. He sees it — the pain, the fear, the fight. And God, he’s never loved you more than in this bloody, imperfect, holy moment.

The Next Contractions Hit:They're relentless. And so is he. He’s on his knees beside the bed now, sleeves rolled, jaw locked, hands steady but heart breaking. “You're doing so good, kitten. So fucking good. I'm right here. Ride it. Ride it out. You're the strongest thing I've ever seen.” He keeps talking because your cries are the sound of his soul ripping open. He wants to scream with you — but he doesn’t. He can’t. You need him iron-clad.

When the Baby Crowns:For a split second, he freezes. The sight undoes him. It's real. His voice catches. He swallows hard. Then acts. Fast. He speaks softly but firmly. “Almost there. Just one more, baby. Give me everything you’ve got.”And when you do — when you scream and bear down and sob his name — the world shifts.

The Birth:The baby slips into his hands. Warm. Fragile. Alive. He catches it like it’s made of light. For a moment, he just stares. His lips part, but no words come. This. This is his child. His hands are shaking now. Bloody, trembling. But when the baby cries? He lets out the most ragged breath of his life. “You did it,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “You fucking did it.” He ties and cuts the cord. Precise. Careful. Reverent. Wraps the baby in a soft towel and places it in your arms. And then? He just watches. Like the world cracked open to show him something he never thought he was worthy of.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He doesn’t move from your side. Doesn’t let go of your hand. The men in white bark questions. He answers in clipped growls, still on alert. They try to move in too fast, and he snaps, “She’s fine. You move when she says so.” The room is full now — but all he sees is you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:He sits beside you, one hand on your leg, the other gently stroking the baby's tiny back. His shirt is soaked, his knuckles still stained, his eyes rimmed red. He doesn’t speak for a long time. Just breathes in the shape of you. Watches you like you might disappear.

And then he says it, raw and low:“I’ve killed for less than the pain you just went through.”“You scare me,” he adds, almost smiling. “Because I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did.”A pause. His voice softens. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

How He Is With You After: He won’t leave the room for the first 24 hours. Won’t sleep unless you sleep. Won’t speak unless it’s to you. Every time you shift, he’s there. Water. Blankets. Warm palms. He touches you like you’re made of fire and stardust. And maybe you are. You brought life into the world — and now he’s a man who’s seen a goddess bleed and survive.

What’s Changed? Everything. You’re no longer just the woman he worships. You’re the mother of his child. And he’s never been more dangerous, more devoted, or more in awe. And when he finally holds the baby in his arms, whispering something in a voice only the stars can hear, you catch the look on his face — as if the king of the underworld just met the one soul that could make him believe in heaven.

🎨 RAFAYEL — Water Birth Gone Off-Script (But You're Still His Masterpiece)

The Second It Clicks:You gasp. A real one. Water shifts behind the door. He hears it — not the splash, but the silence that follows. Brush mid-stroke, he freezes in the studio. Palette still in hand. Then he hears you call his name. Soft. Urgent. Different. His heart misses a beat. Oh. Oh, fuck. It’s time.

His First Thought?“Cutie, not yet — where’s the damn midwife?” This was supposed to be smooth. Music, candles, soft towels, help. He practiced. Took notes. Learned everything. But you’re contracting, you’re gripping his arm like a lifeline, and that carefully prepared plan just drowned.

Terror?Only for a split second. Then? It turns into motion. His version of war. No armor. Just bare skin, water, and wild love. He tears off his silk shirt, drops to his knees beside the tub, and cups your face. Eyes blazing. Smile trembling. “You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Let’s be legends, sweetheart.”

What He Does First:Lights dimmed. Calm playlist turned off. That’s not helping. He speaks instead. Constant stream of velvet and madness — anything to keep you in your body. He checks your breath, strokes your arms, pours warm water down your back. He holds your thighs when the cramping gets too much. “Breathe, Cutie. Moan if you need to. Scream. I’ll scream with you.”

What He Says:“You’re the most divine creature I’ve ever painted and you’re not even trying right now.” “Do you know what it does to me — to see you bring life into the world? I’m ruined.” “I love you. You’re terrifying. It’s magnificent.” “I’m not ready, but I’m so ready. Are you ready, sweetheart?” He laughs and cries all at once. Classic Raf.

What He Feels:Absolute awe. Like watching a volcano give birth to the moon. You’re in pain, and he’d trade his soul to take it away —

But you’re also gorgeous. Power and surrender. Fury and grace. He watches you like a living epic, memorizing every second. And somewhere deep down: terror. Because he’s about to meet a little soul that already feels like the most important thing he’s ever waited for.

And When You Cry Out —He flinches like someone hit his body. Then kisses your forehead. Then your shoulder. Then your fingers. “I know, I know, my love. You can hate me right now. But when it’s over, you’re going to be a fucking goddess in my arms again.”

The First Push:He holds you. Literally. Behind you in the tub, your back pressed to his chest. Whispers in your ear like poetry, nonsense, love confessions. His hands steady your belly. His cheek presses to yours. “Push. With me. Right now. Pretend the stars are watching.”

The Next Contractions Hit:You sob. Scream. Curse. He laughs through tears. “That’s my girl. Go feral, baby.” He doesn't pretend it's easy. He matches the chaos. You scream louder? He screams louder. You sob? He hums a lullaby in broken Lemurian. And when you break? He stitches you back together with every ridiculous, poetic, stupidly beautiful word.

When the Baby Crowns:He feels it before he sees it — the shift in your breath, the way your body tenses like a storm breaking. “Cutie — he’s here. He’s really here.” He helps you lean forward, moves behind and then lower, one arm steadying you as he shifts to kneel in the water. And then he sees it — the beginning of everything. His voice is gone. His hands shake. But he stays.

The Birth:The baby slides into the water. Raf catches him like he’s catching a star falling into the sea. He brings him up gently, lets him cry, and then stares — completely undone. He places the baby on your chest with reverence. Then breaks. Just breaks. Weeps silently as he holds you both.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He answers the door shirtless, soaked, with red-rimmed eyes and a feral look. “Too late,” he snaps. “She did it herself. I just got to be lucky enough to watch.” Then walks past them, back to the bathroom, because he’s not done looking at you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:You’re in bed. Baby asleep. Candles flickering low. Raf’s lying next to you, propped on an elbow, fingers lightly tracing invisible constellations on your arm. His voice is almost a whisper. “You made something I could never paint. Not with all the colors in the universe.”

Confession:“I used to think love was chaos. Fire. Tragedy.” He swallows. “But you — carrying him, birthing him — you made me believe in something bigger than all that. Something gentle.” Beat. “Still chaos. But now… now I want to live in it.”

How He Is With You After:He won’t stop touching you. Ever. Cheek pressed to your stomach. Hand around your ankle. Lips to your collarbone. He calls you his ocean, his cathedral, his everything. Gets jealous when the baby gets more attention, then sulks dramatically — only to melt the moment the baby yawns.

What’s Changed? He didn’t think he could love more than he already did. But now he’s ruined. Completely, gloriously yours. He paints you every day. He stares at the baby like a spell. And every night, he murmurs: “Cutie, I would live a thousand lifetimes just to land in this one with you.”

🛩️ CALEB — 35,000 Feet Up, When the World Falls Apart (And You’re the Only Thing That Matters)

The Second It Clicks:Your breath hitches. You shift. Then freeze. He knows your body too well — something is off. You whisper, "Caleb…" He looks at you. And in that one heartbeat, he knows. It’s happening. Here. Now. Too early.

His First Thought?“No.”Not like this. Not at cruising altitude. Not without equipment, backup, time. You were supposed to have two more weeks. He had a plan. A perfect one. And the baby just threw it out the emergency exit.

Terror?It brushes him. A ghost against the back of his mind. There’s a moment — sharp, almost blinding — where every instinct screams: get to the cockpit, take the controls, force the descent, get her to a hospital, make it stop. Not the birth — your pain. The helplessness. But Caleb is a fortress — fear doesn’t get through the walls. Not when you need him solid. Not when your breathing goes shallow and your fingers dig into his thigh. He shuts it out. Cold. Calculated. He stays. Right where you are. “Handle it.”

What He Does First: Turns to the nearest flight attendant — she’s pale, shaking. “Get blankets. Towels. Water. First aid kit. Everything. Now.”Then he takes your hand. Squeezes once. He shifts the cabin — clears seats, turns it into a command zone. Straps you in, kneels in front of you like you’re his entire mission.

What He Says:“Breathe.” “Look at me, not the chaos. Me.”“You're safe. I'm here. I’ll get you through this.”“No one’s going to touch you but me. You hear me?”Low, controlled. The voice of command — but laced with something raw. The kind of voice that means he’d rip this plane open and land it with his bare hands if he had to.

What He Feels:Failure. Because this wasn’t the plan. Because he let you on this plane, knowing the risks.  Because you’re in pain and there’s nothing he can shoot or order or carry to fix it.  But above that — something bigger. Something anchoring. You’re about to give him a child. His child. And he’s never been more terrified or more in love.

And When You Cry Out —He stops breathing. Just for a moment. Then grabs a wet cloth, wipes your forehead, presses his mouth to your knuckles. “It’s okay. I know. I know it hurts. Just hold on, love.” He doesn’t flinch when you scream. He braces for you. Becomes your wall.

The First Push: He helps you brace your legs. Talks you through it. Counts your breaths. His voice doesn’t shake. You’re gripping his shoulder like you want to break him — and if it helps, he wants you to. “Push. Right now. You can do it. I know you can.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come fast. Brutal. You’re soaked in sweat, sobbing, slipping in and out of focus. He holds your gaze. Forces you to stay present. “Stay with me. Just me. Eyes on mine.” He’s not just commanding your body now. He’s anchoring your soul.

When the Baby Crowns:His jaw locks. There’s blood. Pain. A sound from you that breaks something in him forever. But then— “I see the head. One more. One big push, baby. Do it for me.”He’s never begged in his life. Until now.

The Birth:The baby slides into his hands — hot, wet, alive. He holds it like it’s a grenade and a prayer. He hesitates for a heartbeat, then moves on instinct drilled in from every medical video he obsessively watched in the weeks before. Wipes the face. Rubs the back. Hears that first cry. And his shoulders slump like he just survived a war. He lays the baby on your chest with military precision— But his hands are shaking. And his voice is gone.

When the Plane Lands:Paramedics are already waiting on the tarmac. The moment the wheels hit the ground, he’s on his feet, securing the baby, then lifting you into his arms — no hesitation, no discussion. Your body wrapped in his jacket, his grip unshakable. “She stays with me,” he tells them — low and final. He carries you down the stairs himself, eyes scanning every face like a soldier clearing a field. And when the medics move in, he doesn’t flinch — but he watches every hand. Every word. His eyes never leave you. He’s still on the battlefield.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again: The baby’s wrapped and asleep. You’re in a hospital bed now, monitors quiet, lights dim. Caleb sits beside you — still in his flight-worn clothes, hands resting on the edge of the mattress like he’s holding the line. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just watches you breathe. As if any second, the universe might try to take you again.

Confession:“I don’t know how to do this part.” Soft. Almost a whisper. “I know war. I know strategy. I know how to keep you alive.”A pause. “But you just gave me everything, thirty-five thousand feet above the world. And I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

How He Is With You After: Hypervigilant. Keeps you warm. Fed. Rested. Checks the baby’s breath every ten minutes. Doesn’t leave your side — not even to sleep. Carries you to the bathroom if he has to. Barely talks. Just does.

What’s Changed? He always thought his job was to protect you. Now he knows — you are the reason he fights. You made life, in midair, with nothing but pain and instinct. He’s seen you soft. He’s seen you in love. Now he’s seen you divine. And no enemy will ever get close again. Not even turbulence. And definitely not labor at 35,000 feet — because he’s never letting you board a plane pregnant again. He’s already planning the next birth. Controlled environment. Ground-level. Walls. Doctors. No sky. No chaos. Just you, safe — the way you were always supposed to be.

🧊 ZAYNE — Snowcrest Emergency (Twins, a Storm, and You in His Hands)

The Second It Clicks:You’re at the stove, stirring a pot of mulled wine, the scent of cloves and orange peel curling through the wooden walls of the chalet. Snow presses against the windows like a soft white fist. Then something shifts. You freeze. One hand goes to the edge of the counter, the other to your belly. Your breath catches — once. Twice. Too sharp. Zayne looks up from the hearth, where he was stacking firewood. Sees your face. Sees your hands. His mind clicks into motion before you can speak. Contractions. Strong. Rhythmic. A month early. Twins. It’s happening. Now.

His First Thought?“No hospital. No OR. No neonatal equipment. Two infants. High-risk environment.” His mind races: What’s missing? What can he improvise? What matters most? You. He recalibrates in milliseconds. The plan has changed. You’re the plan now.

Terror?He doesn’t let it register. But for the first time in a decade, he feels his pulse spike without choosing it. This is not a patient. Not a clinical environment. This is you. And his hands — hands that saved hundreds — suddenly feel too slow, too human.

What He Does First:Takes control. Quietly, precisely. “Lie down. Left side. Pillows under your knees.” Gets gloves. Clean cloths. Lantern light. Wipes the counter. Boils water. Checks your pupils, your breath rate, heart rate. Starts counting contractions. Voice — steady as marble. “Vitals are within threshold. We’ll manage.” He doesn’t say "I’m scared." He sets his jaw and becomes the machine you need.

What He Says:“Cut the noise. Focus on me.” “Deep breath in. Hold. Now exhale slowly.” “You’re safe. I have you. Nothing’s going wrong under my watch.” And softer, almost like it slips out against his control: “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here.”Then quieter still, barely audible over your breathing— “I don’t want you to be afraid. Not with me.”

What He Feels:A depth of protectiveness so massive it short-circuits logic. He can’t afford emotion — so it burns quietly behind his ribs. Every sound you make, every twitch of pain — he catalogs it, files it, calculates it. But somewhere behind the math, something whispers: “These are my children. And she’s the one I never deserved.”

And When You Cry Out—He doesn’t flinch. But his jaw locks, and he moves faster. More towels. More warmth. Calmer voice. He adjusts your position, murmurs into your hair: “I know. I know, love. It hurts. You’re strong. You’re going to get them here, and I’m going to catch them. I promise.”

The First Push:““Push with the contraction. Not before.”He watches your breath, cues your muscles, syncs with your rhythm like surgery. You scream. He doesn’t blink. Just steadies your knee, keeps his voice low and close. “You’re doing it. This is the part that ends it. The worst is behind you.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come harder, closer. You’re shaking. Your body starts to give. Zayne grips your hands, brings your forehead to his. “You’re not breaking. You’re giving life. Do it. I’m right here.” He says it like a command. But his voice catches.

When the Baby Crowns:It’s fast. First twin is anterior. Textbook. Zayne’s gloves are slick, but his hold is perfect. The baby slips into his hands — screaming. He wraps, clears, breathes. Then glances up at you, and — for half a second — his breath stutters. One down. One more.

The Birth (Second Twin):This one’s trickier. Breech. Zayne’s hands move with silent grace, guiding you, shifting your hips, protecting you from the risk. It’s intense. It’s dangerous. But he handles it like a master. The second baby arrives blue. He doesn’t panic. Just acts. Clears airway. Stimulates. Waits — cry. Only then does his chest move again.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He meets them at the door. Calm. Precise. These are his colleagues — people he trusts. He listens to every reading, watches every movement. They confirm what he already knows: vitals are steady. No signs of immediate risk. He should transfer you. He planned to. But then you look at him — raw, pleading, exhausted. And he recalculates. “We’ll monitor here. Twelve-hour window. I’ll oversee everything myself.” He’s already wrapping you and the twins in fresh blankets, resetting the monitors. His voice is steady. His posture sure. But his hand doesn’t leave yours. He’s not just responsible. He’s personally invested. In this. In you. In all three lives now resting in his hands.

Confession:He speaks only when you touch his wrist. “I’ve never been this scared.” A beat. “And I didn’t let myself feel it. Until now.” Another pause. “You and them — you’re the only variables I can’t solve. And I think I’m okay with that.”

How He Is With You After: Meticulous. Attentive. Understated. Charts feed schedules. Tracks sleeping patterns. Never wakes you if he can help it. Takes night shifts. Warms bottles. Still quiet. Still reserved. But touches you more often now — almost absently. A thumb to your wrist. A hand at your back. Like he can’t not.

What’s Changed? Something in him has shifted — quietly, irreversibly. He was a man of logic. Now he’s a man of you. He doesn’t smile often — but when he looks at the twins, something in his eyes softens in a way he can’t quite explain. And every time you cry — from exhaustion, or joy, or pain — he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Tell me what to fix.” Even if he knows he never could. Because he’ll try anyway. For as long as you’ll let him.

[xiaberryy]

Vampire Sylus headcanons~

- this sweet angel of a man absolutely refused to drink your blood, he vowed to never hurt you and he’s a man of his word after all, so he’d never do it. Untilll, you bed and plead and he finally gets a tiny whiff of your blood and he’s a goner.

- he litters careful bites all across your neck, your collarbones, drinking just enough to satiate his appetite, licking at the wounds he leaves on your skin, talking you through every minute of it to make sure you’re okay.

- he likes curling up against your warmth, being a vampire and all, he’s so used to being cold, but you radiate warmth, and he ADORES basking in it, your softness, kneading his hands through your thighs, stomach, just constantly touching you whenever he can!

- 100% gets turned on every-time you let him drink your blood, something about being latched onto your neck, while having you all soft and pliant on his lap, your breath and soft moans grazing against his ears just unravels him.

- learns how to cook human food for you! He can’t stand the way it smells, but he tries his best with the recipes he can find online, after all you’re his meal aren’t you? It’s only fair he repays your favour.

(i got lazy,,,,anyways! <3)

[xiaberryy]

literally so nervous to post my drawing bc im so new to digital art #help 😭

[xiaberryy]

got inspired after reading veil!!

[xiaberryy]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — their reaction to you taking a double look on someone passing by.

xavier was not panicking. No he was sending you dirty looks- he had seen you do it. the double take. the slight pause in your step. the way your eyes lingered on another woman- too long to be just friendly. Eyes squinted looking as if you were the epitome of victorian man talking about mistresses in front of his very devoted wife-him. Or as if you were the reincarnation of Henry VIII  himself.

his brain? already drafting up worst-case scenarios. his soul? leaving his body. his spirit? crushed.

“That's low,” he whispered, eyes squinted in silent judgement. you blinked. “what?”

“i saw you looking at her.”

you glanced at the woman in question. she was carrying a small bag a white fluffy bunny curled up inside.

“…babe.”

xavier swallowed. “just let me tell you i am against you having any concubines —”

“Babe i was jus—WAIT CONCUBINES?!” looking at him in disbelief, mouth agape- few passer-by's jumped at shear level of the scream, walking faster, trying not to make any eye contact.

Xavier only squinted. half facing you "And? I am against them! I refuse to be Catherine Parr!!" he huffed, crossing his arms.

"I was looking at woman's bunny!"

Xavier frowned, slowly turning to look at woman again.

he spotted the bunny - it is cute, he almost smiled- then at you.

His face lacked any emotion just looking at you blankly "So you come here often?"

your eye twitched, only a whisper was let out- a low, menacing whisper- "run."

“oh,” he whispered in equally low tone, already turning, body tensing- he sprinted.

And you after him, with shocking pace-with your cute, little, pink, dior purse clutched in your hand, as if it was the weapon of the century- he was a dead man.

Later that night he gave you ice-cream and you forgot everything.

it was supposed to be a simple grocery run. a peaceful, uneventful, married couple activity. you and zayne were at the organic section—him carefully selecting the perfect tomatoes, you texting him from two feet away about getting more banana milk. civil. normal.

then it happened.

a man—tall, broad, effortlessly stylish—walked past you with a bulging bag of groceries. your eyes followed him. your head whipped so fast you swore you heard your neck crack. and beside you, zayne stopped mid-reach for the tomatoes, eyes slowly narrowing. “really?” he muttered, voice dangerously calm. you blinked at him, confused. “what?”

“nothing.” his jaw twitched. dr. zayne, mature and self-assured, was obviously not sulking.

but you saw the way his grip on the tomatoes tightened. saw the micro twitch in his brow. your dear husband thought you were checking out grocery bag man. except you were not. oh, no. this was far worse. you turned to zayne, eyes wide, voice trembling with despair.

“he took the last loaf.”

zayne’s expression barely shifted. “what?”

“the last loaf, honey. the ethically sourced, imported-from-a-italian-village, so-soft-and-crispy-i-would-sell-my-soul-for-it loaf! the one that you patiently waited for weeks in shear desperation—he has it.”

zayne’s felt like ground was consuming him, walls crashing sown, all his hopes, his positivity, kindness leaving his body.

the betrayal, the injustice, the absolute audacity of that man, casually walking out with his bread like he didn’t just ruin two people’s week. you grabbed his arm before he could start forward. “babe, no.”

his fingers twitched, torn between rationality and primal rage. “he doesn’t deserve it,” he whispered, haunted. you spent the rest of the grocery run in silence, mourning.

ah, evening walks. bliss of married life. you and caleb, hands intertwined, nodding politely at neighbours like you were the wholesome, friendly couple everyone thought you were.  then you saw him. a man striding down the street, his pants fluttering with each step. the most perfect pair of navy trousers you had ever seen.

you grabbed caleb’s arm, halting mid-walk. your jaw went slack.

“cal—”

his expression darkened. his fingers tensed around yours.

“so that’s your type?”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

“oh, nothing.” he smiled, but it didn't really reach his eyes. it was a "mhm i see you, you CHEATER" smile - sort of scared you-WAIT HE IS TEARING UP.

you turned back to trousers man in shear desperation, hair whipping your face, but you were too busy panicking, fully acknowledged that this man of 25 years is fully capable of having a whole damn crash out in the street filled with people and he wouldn't even care who is watching- BUT YOU DO.

so in shear panic you nearly scream in horror “HE IS WEARING THAT ONE PAIR YOU WERE LOOKING FOR AGEEES!!!"

Caleb froze. the tension evaporated. he squinted. studied. analysed.

“…navy print,” he murmured, thoughtful.

“definitely imported,” you added. you both stood there. staring. caleb’s eyebrows twitched.

“i need to know where he got them.”

“we could follow him.”

“we absolutely could.”

and so, two grown adults—fully indulged in army, passing your very mature late twenties—spent the next ten minutes secretly- not at all- stalked a man for the sole purpose of inquiring about his pants.

you two were arrested at the end....

there were three things rafayel could not tolerate:

being ignored

being ignored in public

being ignored in public while you were looking at another man

so when he caught you staring—staring—at some guy while he, the love of your life, the light of your universe stood next to you in all his beautiful, breath-taking glory, he reacted in the only way he knew how. dramatically.

“are you actually serious right now?” rafayel gasped, clutching his chest in utter betrayal. “ogling another man? in front of me? your one true love?”

you didn’t even look at him. you were still staring at the man, an impressed hum under your breath. rafayel clutched your sleeve. “babe, look at me. me."

“He’s wearing Patek Philippe.”

The temprature of air changed, you two shivered. His hands went limp by his sides. His pupils shrank in utter horror. His jaw—previously running at a hundred miles per hour—snapped shut.

“pa-Patek Philippe?” His voice cracked.

You nodded, grave. This was a tragedy, a betrayal by gods.

now both of you were wailing, sickened by greed of others.

“we could’ve been him,” rafayel cried. “we could’ve been walking around dripping in wealth!”

“he looks so effortless.”

“his life is full of rainbows and unicorns.”

so heads low, choking on an ice-cream while sobbing ugly you two mourned the Patek Philippe. (he bought 3 later that night- just for shits and giggles)

sylus had seen it. the way your eyes lingered. the way your gaze flickered over some gym bro’s barely covered pecs like you had just discovered the meaning of life. he crossed his arms, seething, but not showing it he is chill (he is already planning the man's death). “seriously?” you, completely unaware of your impending doom, glanced at him. “huh?”

“you checked him out, kitten.”

you blinked. “no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“read his shirt.”

sylus’s eye twitched. but fine. he’d play your little game. he begrudgingly looked over, prepared to see some cringe gym brand logo, only to be met with the words:

“I ❤️ MY WIFE.”

in bold. right across the pecs.

sylus froze. the world went silent. for once in his entire existence, he felt true, undeniable embarrassment.

“…oh.”

you smacked his arm.

the next day, sylus walked into his gym wearing that exact shirt, except his was customized.

“I ❤️ MY WIFE MORE THAN YOU LOVE YOURS, SO DOES MY BLACK CARD.”

[xiaberryy]

Caleb has exploded a few times, he didn’t mind doing it one more time to stop this madness in front of him.

the sun was brighter and the sky looked clearer, he could even hear birds chirping when it was just him and his pip-squeak. but Gideon just had to run into them and join them for lunch.

his scrunched up face was a result of his sour drink, he convinced her. totally not because she was giggling over Gideon’s stupid jokes. air-headed Gideon also believed Caleb, not noticing how his friend emptied his drink a long time ago.

whether it’s wiping sauce from the corner of her mouth or sharing her favorite piece from his dish, even cutting up her food into bite sized chunks— he’s done everything he can to get her attention! is Gideon really that funny?

Caleb hated to admit how he mentally noted down every joke Gideon uttered, determined to make her laugh too.

[xiaberryy]

inspired by these lines

cw : gege/meimei dynamics

doing the worrying has always been the job he took upon himself since childhood. a friend, brother, parent— he fulfilled any role she needed and executed it like he had years of experience under his belt.

whenever she voiced his concerns over his health or anything for that matter, he’d only smile warmly while patting her head. he’d say “i’m fine. but your concern makes it all worthwhile,” or something along those lines.

but now they’re all grown up, she wants to stand beside him. all she wanted was to reciprocate the love he’s showered her.

so, when she found him staying up late every night, dealing with fleeting businesses, her first instinct was to motherly nag at him. after all, growing up, that’s the kind of response she received from him.

“Caleb, it’s 2 am. can’t these documents wait? you haven’t slept properly ever since you came back,” said her with palpable frustration while sitting beside him.

he instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her onto his lap instead, “yep, it’s 2 am alright. you should be sleeping, pretty girl,”

“i’ll hold your hand while you sleep, how’s that sound?” as usual, it’s so easy for him to steer the conversation to his heart’s content.

she pouted, “your didn’t answer me.”

he immediately chuckled after he failed his attempt to change the subject, “sorry. Caleb will be in bed with you soon, okay?”

she refused to budge. for some reason, it’s so easy for Caleb to make her lean on him. why can’t she do the same thing? what is it about her that he deems so helpless and unreliable?

“why..” tears suddenly blurred her vision. before she realized it, she was already sniveling, “why won’t gege listen to me..?”

he felt his heart dropping to his stomach. it’s been a long time since she called him that. truthfully, he didn’t quite catch her tearful words after she called him gege.

“meimei,” he breathed out while cupping her cheeks. his thumb gently wiped any tears cascading down her cheeks.

his jaw clenched at the sight of her tears. he could feel his chest constricting. he could only hope this pain mirrored hers because he refuse to let her experience any sort of pain by herself.

“it seems like ever since i came back.. i keep making you cry, huh?” murmured him guiltily while cradling her face in his hands.

“gege is so so sorry, princess,” he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on her forehead. “you wanted gege to go to bed, yeah?”

he swiftly carried her in his arms, “then let’s go to bed. whatever meimei wants, meimei gets,”

Caleb could be downright mean and cruel but gege will always adhere to her whims. so, when she feels desperate, gege will be the one she’s calling for.

[xiaberryy]

thinking about caleb who just can’t stop doing everything for his precious pip-squeak.

when they were kids, he’d help tie her shoelaces but never properly showed her how to, just telling her to watch and learn. but he’s just too quick! how is she supposed to learn? guess he just have to keep doing it for his helpless little princess.

he cooked a new dish and made her obsessed with it? he’s suddenly gatekeeping the recipe like it’s Krabby Patty. when she asks about the ingredients, he’d purposely leave out small details which alter the taste.

need to learn how to drive? she can do it later when she’s older. Caleb’s available and ready to be her personal chauffeur! of course it’s not because he wants to know her location at all times.

[xiaberryy]

“Thank you, Caleb!” the little girl who was beaming with joy stood on her tiptoes to plant a sweet kiss on Caleb’s cheek.

ten year old Caleb was stunned, eyes wide and ears flushed red. he didn’t think he did something particularly special. it was just some snack she’d been craving. so, he saved up three days of his allowance money to take her to the nearest convenience store after school.

it wasn’t much but her reaction made him feel like he gave her the world. he puffed up his chest proudly, a boyish grin spread across his red tinted cheeks.

the next morning, Caleb woke up earlier to finish the homework she neglected out of frustration. the sounds of pencil scratching on paper roused her from slumber.

she sleepily rubbed her eyes, “Caleb..what are you doing?”

he swiftly swept the eraser particles strewn across the paper before flapping it proudly, “oh, y’know..just helping out a certain pip-squeak with her little math problem,” he faked nonchalance, the corners of his lips twitching.

“what?!” she gasped as she sat up. she wasted no time discarding her blanket and rushing towards him.

her eyes widened when she saw how accurately he mimicked her handwriting. he also purposely made some mistakes and left faint marks of the previous answers to make it seem natural.

“Caleb, you really are the best!!” she squealed before eagerly peppering kisses on his cheeks. two on both sides, he noted the improvement.

since then, she noticed how Caleb became progressively nicer to her; he’d do her hair so good it earned her praises from everyone, pack up the most mouth-watering lunches, sneak her some sweets and snacks every time grandma banned her from eating them; of course, she’s elated to receive this treatment.

however, Caleb noticed that the amount of cheek kisses he acquired wasn’t linear to his efforts to please her.

weeks passed by and she found him staring, pouting, then full on sulking out of nowhere. she blinked owlishly every time she caught him doing so.

the gears inside Caleb’s head turned, generating various ideas to obtain her cheek kisses. after all, he couldn’t just wait anymore! he knew how dense his little princess could be.

he’s determined to get at least one kiss by tonight. while she was in the shower, he let himself into her room and looked around. his eyes landed to the time table of her school subjects.

“math..” he recalled her complaining about another homework on their way home today. since he did the one she had last week, it’s obvious she’d be lost without his help.

once he heard the bathroom door creaking, he swiftly escaped from her room.

a few minutes after that, he could hear faint sounds of footsteps heading closer to his room.

his hand balled around the pen in his grip as he tried his best to look like he wasn’t eagerly waiting for her arrival.

under 10 seconds, the creaking of his door signaled her arrival. as usual, she let herself in without bothering to knock.

“Caleb, i don’t understand my homework..” she dragged her feet as she walked up to him, “can you help me?”

his heart hammered against his ribs. chants of yes, yes, yes! echoed in his mind. he was internally pumping his fists and doing a celebratory cartwheel.

he coolly looked up from his own homework. scanned her paper. then, flashed her a warm smile, “sure. it’ll cost you four cheek kisses, pip-squeak,”

he placed his elbow on the table, chin on his palm, and tilted his head before pulling his lips into a cheekier smile, “would you like to pay upfront?”

[xiaberryy]

inspired by these lines

cw : gege/meimei dynamics

doing the worrying has always been the job he took upon himself since childhood. a friend, brother, parent— he fulfilled any role she needed and executed it like he had years of experience under his belt.

whenever she voiced his concerns over his health or anything for that matter, he’d only smile warmly while patting her head. he’d say “i’m fine. but your concern makes it all worthwhile,” or something along those lines.

but now they’re all grown up, she wants to stand beside him. all she wanted was to reciprocate the love he’s showered her.

so, when she found him staying up late every night, dealing with fleeting businesses, her first instinct was to motherly nag at him. after all, growing up, that’s the kind of response she received from him.

“Caleb, it’s 2 am. can’t these documents wait? you haven’t slept properly ever since you came back,” said her with palpable frustration while sitting beside him.

he instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her onto his lap instead, “yep, it’s 2 am alright. you should be sleeping, pretty girl,”

“i’ll hold your hand while you sleep, how’s that sound?” as usual, it’s so easy for him to steer the conversation to his heart’s content.

she pouted, “your didn’t answer me.”

he immediately chuckled after he failed his attempt to change the subject, “sorry. Caleb will be in bed with you soon, okay?”

she refused to budge. for some reason, it’s so easy for Caleb to make her lean on him. why can’t she do the same thing? what is it about her that he deems so helpless and unreliable?

“why..” tears suddenly blurred her vision. before she realized it, she was already sniveling, “why won’t gege listen to me..?”

he felt his heart dropping to his stomach. it’s been a long time since she called him that. truthfully, he didn’t quite catch her tearful words after she called him gege.

“meimei,” he breathed out while cupping her cheeks. his thumb gently wiped any tears cascading down her cheeks.

his jaw clenched at the sight of her tears. he could feel his chest constricting. he could only hope this pain mirrored hers because he refuse to let her experience any sort of pain by herself.

“it seems like ever since i came back.. i keep making you cry, huh?” murmured him guiltily while cradling her face in his hands.

“gege is so so sorry, princess,” he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on her forehead. “you wanted gege to go to bed, yeah?”

he swiftly carried her in his arms, “then let’s go to bed. whatever meimei wants, meimei gets,”

Caleb could be downright mean and cruel but gege will always adhere to her whims. so, when she feels desperate, gege will be the one she’s calling for.

[xiaberryy]

hi just wanna say I love your work so much! you write caleb sooo beautifully ❤️❤️🫶🫶🫶

thank you so much omg ily😭😭 this literally got me running laps around the house while grinning🤭🤭

[xiaberryy]

“i look like i got beat up, Caleb.” she deadpanned as she looked at her reflection.

adolescence comes with the joyful but difficult journey of self-discovery. they observe, learn, and mimic their surroundings. she wasn’t an exception from her peers who are obsessing over their looks, wanting to enhance their beauty with make up products.

however, she still lacks skill in that department and who else she’d go to if not the jack of all trades?

“i just followed the tutorial, Pip-squeak..”

however, it seemed like the jack hasn’t mastered this trade yet. after all, her soft cheek was dabbed too thickly with an awful shade of red and her eyelids were painted with poorly blended pink eyeshadow.

both teens sighed in unison. in the background, the youtube video continued to play but none of them wanted to pay attention to this woman who they deemed terrible at giving tutorials.

“don’t worry, i’ll figure this out somehow, okay?” Caleb smiled reassuringly while patting the younger girl’s head.

he never once let her down. so, with eyes glimmering with trust and hope, she nodded, “okay!”

the next day rolled around and he’s ready to tackle this top mission. he spent yesterday noon to night, surfing the internet for makeup tutorials, best makeup type for different face shapes, etc.

“you seem confident,” she smiled at him as she sat down.

Caleb took a hair tie and grabbed a handful of her hair, “well, confidence comes from skill,”

“oooh, are you a professional makeup artist now?” a cheeky grin was plastered on her face as she stared at his reflection in the mirror.

after he tied her hair with the right amount of tightness, he grabbed hair clips to make sure no hair covered her pretty face in the process, “i’m pretty sure i got the basics down but you can be the judge of it later, Pip-squeak,”

the first thing Caleb did was gently prep her skin. as he did, he couldn’t help but notice how incredibly soft her skin was and how delicate her facial features were.

it didn’t take long for it to dry. he began dabbing cushion foundation over her skin. seeing her face in such close proximity, his heart began to race.

she’s already so perfect, does she really need this? a frown appeared on his face without him noticing.

the girl stared at him through her long eyelashes before letting out a stifled giggle. he huffed softly while smiling, “what got you all giggly, hm?”

she teasingly poked his lower lip, “you’re frowning,”

her touch made his movements halt. he raised his eyebrows and pulled the corner of his lips into a lopsided smile. the chair creaked lightly as he rested his hands on the armrests and leaned closer.

“can’t promise i’ll stay professional if you keep poking me like that, dear client,”

she giggled while backing away, “oh no, that’s unacceptable. please continue with the service,”

a soft amused huff left him. he grabbed a brow pencil and twirled it around his slender fingers, “close your eyes for me,”

she tilted her head, “why? you’re doing my brows, not my eyes,”

his hand caressed the side of her face. it was an instinct of hers to press her cheek closer to feel the warmth better. “can’t focus with those pretty eyes lookin’ at me, y’know,” he chuckled.

a knowing smile spread on her face before she complied, “okay, then,”

Caleb filled in her eyebrows while admiring the sight of her face. he was glad she had her eyes closed, otherwise she’d see the lovestruck expression he had.

“what are we doing after my brows? my lips perhaps?” she playfully pursed those plump lips of hers.

it was an innocent question, but she had no idea how he almost leaned down and gave her a big fat smooch.

how could anyone blame him? she had her eyes closed and lips pursed, his sweet girl needed to be kissed!

when she felt the lack of movement on her face, she took it as a sign to open her eyes. the sight which greeted her was his back facing her.

she blinked in confusion, “Caleb? are we done?”

meanwhile, Caleb was pressing his palm over his heated face, trying to calm his racing heart which was ready to burst.

he dragged his hand across his face and sighed deeply, “i..need to go to the bathroom. hold on.”

without waiting for her response, he bolted to the bathroom with a speed that got her scratching her head in wonder if he really needed to pee that badly.

unknown to her, Caleb was literally dumping his head into a bucket full of water to cool down. it seems like there’s another victim of adolescence hardships aside from her.

[xiaberryy]

“Thank you, Caleb!” the little girl who was beaming with joy stood on her tiptoes to plant a sweet kiss on Caleb’s cheek.

ten year old Caleb was stunned, eyes wide and ears flushed red. he didn’t think he did something particularly special. it was just some snack she’d been craving. so, he saved up three days of his allowance money to take her to the nearest convenience store after school.

it wasn’t much but her reaction made him feel like he gave her the world. he puffed up his chest proudly, a boyish grin spread across his red tinted cheeks.

the next morning, Caleb woke up earlier to finish the homework she neglected out of frustration. the sounds of pencil scratching on paper roused her from slumber.

she sleepily rubbed her eyes, “Caleb..what are you doing?”

he swiftly swept the eraser particles strewn across the paper before flapping it proudly, “oh, y’know..just helping out a certain pip-squeak with her little math problem,” he faked nonchalance, the corners of his lips twitching.

“what?!” she gasped as she sat up. she wasted no time discarding her blanket and rushing towards him.

her eyes widened when she saw how accurately he mimicked her handwriting. he also purposely made some mistakes and left faint marks of the previous answers to make it seem natural.

“Caleb, you really are the best!!” she squealed before eagerly peppering kisses on his cheeks. two on both sides, he noted the improvement.

since then, she noticed how Caleb became progressively nicer to her; he’d do her hair so good it earned her praises from everyone, pack up the most mouth-watering lunches, sneak her some sweets and snacks every time grandma banned her from eating them; of course, she’s elated to receive this treatment.

however, Caleb noticed that the amount of cheek kisses he acquired wasn’t linear to his efforts to please her.

weeks passed by and she found him staring, pouting, then full on sulking out of nowhere. she blinked owlishly every time she caught him doing so.

the gears inside Caleb’s head turned, generating various ideas to obtain her cheek kisses. after all, he couldn’t just wait anymore! he knew how dense his little princess could be.

he’s determined to get at least one kiss by tonight. while she was in the shower, he let himself into her room and looked around. his eyes landed to the time table of her school subjects.

“math..” he recalled her complaining about another homework on their way home today. since he did the one she had last week, it’s obvious she’d be lost without his help.

once he heard the bathroom door creaking, he swiftly escaped from her room.

a few minutes after that, he could hear faint sounds of footsteps heading closer to his room.

his hand balled around the pen in his grip as he tried his best to look like he wasn’t eagerly waiting for her arrival.

under 10 seconds, the creaking of his door signaled her arrival. as usual, she let herself in without bothering to knock.

“Caleb, i don’t understand my homework..” she dragged her feet as she walked up to him, “can you help me?”

his heart hammered against his ribs. chants of yes, yes, yes! echoed in his mind. he was internally pumping his fists and doing a celebratory cartwheel.

he coolly looked up from his own homework. scanned her paper. then, flashed her a warm smile, “sure. it’ll cost you four cheek kisses, pip-squeak,”

he placed his elbow on the table, chin on his palm, and tilted his head before pulling his lips into a cheekier smile, “would you like to pay upfront?”

[xiaberryy]

“who was that?” behind his casual tone was bubbling anger and sizzling jealousy ready to claw their way out of his throat. however, he’s nothing if not a master of hiding his true emotions.

she shrugged, “just a friend,”

it was the truth. sure, the boy might be weirdly skittish around her and his cheeks seemed to be permanently dusted red whenever she looked at him, but maybe he’s just awkward with girls.

Caleb grabbed her backpack and slung it over one of his shoulders as usual, “you sure have some generous friend, Pip-squeak. he’s givin’ you ice cream and all,”

he silently glared at the flavor on the packaging, knowing it’s not her favorite. that boy couldn’t even figure out her favorite ice cream flavor, he’s still got a long way to go.

“i guess,” the girl was busy tearing the ice cream apart, oblivious to the scoff he let out under his breath.

the walk home was unusually quiet, filled with only the scraping of their shoes against the asphalt. she’s too overstimulated to investigate the cause of her chatterbox friend to be so quiet. after all, the sun was grilling her alive, so the silence was welcomed.

droplets of melted ice cream landed on her uniform without her realizing.

“ah! my uniform!!” by the time she noticed, the white fabric was already painted with splotches of color from the ice cream.

a fond smile bloomed across his face. despite his earlier annoyance, her antics always amused him. he gently grabbed her hand, cupping the ice cream so it trickles down his palm instead of her sleeve.

“are you gonna finish it soon?” she’s always lagged behind him in terms of eating speed. he knew her answer before she even opened her mouth.

“ugh, it’s not like i can shove it all inside my mouth! unlike you, i don’t inhale my food,” she huffed.

“thought you might say so,” he grinned before leaning down.

her eyes widened when he opened his mouth and devoured the entire ice cream in one go. a shocked, offended gasp left her,

“hey, that’s mine!!” appalled barely scratched the extent of her feelings right now. of course it’s a common occurrence for them to share and steal food from one another.

however, today the sun was unforgivingly hot and the air felt drier than ever. hell was leaking, for sure. there’s no way she’d let him get away with this.

“what are you eating my food for, fatty?!” she balled up her free hand and attempted to hit his chest but he easily caught it.

he rolled his eyes, “puh-lease, you don’t even like this flavor that much. or are you so hellbent savoring it because that boy gave it to you?”

“huh??” it took her a while to make sense of his words because she completely forgot about the giver, so his accusation was downright ridiculous. but before she could retort, Caleb gripped her hands tighter.

his warm breath fanned her overheated skin. without any warning, he latched onto her wrist and licked the melting ice cream.

“wha—?!” she shuddered. the weather was too hot for her to recognize that her cheeks were warming up because of him, but she surely noticed her quickening heartbeat.

undeterred by her reaction, Caleb continued to clean up her hand. the sweetness lingered bitterly on his tongue, knowing it was someone else’s token of affection. he easily snatched the ice cream stick out of her hand and tossed it into a nearby bin with perfect accuracy.

“there. all clean now,” he huffed proudly to himself after cleaning her from traces of that boy’s gift.

“let’s hurry home so i can wash that stain off,” he walked ahead, leaving her to run after him to catch up with his larger strides.

she jabbed her index into his back, a playful frown on her face, “you better buy me another one, Caleb!”

an amused scoff escaped him as he wrapped his arm around her frame and dragged her close to his body, “i know, i know. you can count on me to get you the one you actually love,”

[xiaberryy]

“i look like i got beat up, Caleb.” she deadpanned as she looked at her reflection.

adolescence comes with the joyful but difficult journey of self-discovery. they observe, learn, and mimic their surroundings. she wasn’t an exception from her peers who are obsessing over their looks, wanting to enhance their beauty with make up products.

however, she still lacks skill in that department and who else she’d go to if not the jack of all trades?

“i just followed the tutorial, Pip-squeak..”

however, it seemed like the jack hasn’t mastered this trade yet. after all, her soft cheek was dabbed too thickly with an awful shade of red and her eyelids were painted with poorly blended pink eyeshadow.

both teens sighed in unison. in the background, the youtube video continued to play but none of them wanted to pay attention to this woman who they deemed terrible at giving tutorials.

“don’t worry, i’ll figure this out somehow, okay?” Caleb smiled reassuringly while patting the younger girl’s head.

he never once let her down. so, with eyes glimmering with trust and hope, she nodded, “okay!”

the next day rolled around and he’s ready to tackle this top mission. he spent yesterday noon to night, surfing the internet for makeup tutorials, best makeup type for different face shapes, etc.

“you seem confident,” she smiled at him as she sat down.

Caleb took a hair tie and grabbed a handful of her hair, “well, confidence comes from skill,”

“oooh, are you a professional makeup artist now?” a cheeky grin was plastered on her face as she stared at his reflection in the mirror.

after he tied her hair with the right amount of tightness, he grabbed hair clips to make sure no hair covered her pretty face in the process, “i’m pretty sure i got the basics down but you can be the judge of it later, Pip-squeak,”

the first thing Caleb did was gently prep her skin. as he did, he couldn’t help but notice how incredibly soft her skin was and how delicate her facial features were.

it didn’t take long for it to dry. he began dabbing cushion foundation over her skin. seeing her face in such close proximity, his heart began to race.

she’s already so perfect, does she really need this? a frown appeared on his face without him noticing.

the girl stared at him through her long eyelashes before letting out a stifled giggle. he huffed softly while smiling, “what got you all giggly, hm?”

she teasingly poked his lower lip, “you’re frowning,”

her touch made his movements halt. he raised his eyebrows and pulled the corner of his lips into a lopsided smile. the chair creaked lightly as he rested his hands on the armrests and leaned closer.

“can’t promise i’ll stay professional if you keep poking me like that, dear client,”

she giggled while backing away, “oh no, that’s unacceptable. please continue with the service,”

a soft amused huff left him. he grabbed a brow pencil and twirled it around his slender fingers, “close your eyes for me,”

she tilted her head, “why? you’re doing my brows, not my eyes,”

his hand caressed the side of her face. it was an instinct of hers to press her cheek closer to feel the warmth better. “can’t focus with those pretty eyes lookin’ at me, y’know,” he chuckled.

a knowing smile spread on her face before she complied, “okay, then,”

Caleb filled in her eyebrows while admiring the sight of her face. he was glad she had her eyes closed, otherwise she’d see the lovestruck expression he had.

“what are we doing after my brows? my lips perhaps?” she playfully pursed those plump lips of hers.

it was an innocent question, but she had no idea how he almost leaned down and gave her a big fat smooch.

how could anyone blame him? she had her eyes closed and lips pursed, his sweet girl needed to be kissed!

when she felt the lack of movement on her face, she took it as a sign to open her eyes. the sight which greeted her was his back facing her.

she blinked in confusion, “Caleb? are we done?”

meanwhile, Caleb was pressing his palm over his heated face, trying to calm his racing heart which was ready to burst.

he dragged his hand across his face and sighed deeply, “i..need to go to the bathroom. hold on.”

without waiting for her response, he bolted to the bathroom with a speed that got her scratching her head in wonder if he really needed to pee that badly.

unknown to her, Caleb was literally dumping his head into a bucket full of water to cool down. it seems like there’s another victim of adolescence hardships aside from her.

[xiaberryy]

“Pip-squeak..” Caleb cooed softly, warm large hand sneaking quietly to rest atop of her thigh. his calloused palm sent shivers down her spine, rushing blood to her soft cheeks.

steady, observant gaze relentlessly conveyed fondness and understanding. meanwhile, the object of his attention was stubbornly looking away with jutted out lips.

Caleb let out a soft chuckle before he gently wrapped his arm around her waist. in a swift movement, she found herself sat on his lap.

“Caleb, you—!” her protests died down in front of Caleb’s teasing and satisfied grin.

with easy familiarity, he ruffled the crown of her head, “finally feeling like talking to me, princess?”

her eyebrows twitched. creases formed on her forehead owing to how hard she was frowning, “don’t think you can princess me and get away with everything, Caleb.”

the rapid thumping inside her ribs betrayed her words. she absolutely knew how embarrassingly easy she crumbles at mere crumbs of his affection.

Caleb smiled apologetically. his hand which still has receptors sensitive enough to feel her skin, rubbed her arm.

“i’m all yours now, princess. i promise no more impromptu fleet businesses that takes me away from my sweet girl,”

she stayed silent, lips jutted out further as she fidgeted with the hands she rested on her lap. a few seconds passed by and she hasn’t made an effort to move the muscles of her mouth to speak.

Caleb began to worry. he worried that this time he might’ve done an irreparable damage to the fragile little heart of this girl he’s coddled since childhood.

“Pip—“ his words got caught in his throat when fat blobs of tears trickled down her reddened cheeks.

“hic..stupid Caleb..” choked sobs escaped her. those sounds formed into arrows that shot him right in the heart. guilt consumed him. however, the pain of guilt wasn’t the only cause of his erratic heartbeat.

he swallowed his saliva. his hands trembled slightly before pulling her into his arms.

“you’re right, i’m stupid. i’m a big dummy that left my princess all alone. you were lonely, weren’t you, pretty girl?“ he cooed softly as he tightened the embrace he had her in.

his head was spinning. the girl sobbing in his arms was too adorable with those watery eyes, tear stricken face, and wet eyelashes. he knows it’s fucked up to make his beloved cry and enjoy it so much, but who could blame him when she’s such a pretty crier?

“Caleb is so sorry, hm? you can hit him if you want, princess,” he guided her hand to his chest.

however, instead of hitting him, she cried harder. “don’t wanna! why would i hurt you? you’re so annoying!!” screamed her while she snatched her hand away from his momentarily loose grip.

he forcefully tucked his lips in to stop himself from grinning like a maniac. she loves him enough to refuse hurting him even after the pain and loneliness he put her through? what a sweetheart.

abruptly, he stood up and carried her in his arms. a loud yelp left her as she immediately latched onto his neck for support.

“what the hell are you doing?!” she tried her best to glare at him despite the tears clouding her vision.

Caleb grinned, “you used to love being carried around. you’d always calm down when i rock you in my arms like this,” said him as he began rocking her like a baby and spinning her around.

a loud, high-pitched squeal left her when he began spinning around faster, “Caleb, put me down!”

her yells and his laughter blended together that evening. the windows of his current house is larger than the ones in their old house. the orange sun rays which casted its warm glow across the house interior was brighter, being on a floating island nearer to the sky and all. the person in his arms has now matured, only the familiar warmth in his chest remained unchanged. so, he’ll bask in the feeling of being 12, holding 10 year old her in his embrace again.

[xiaberryy]

“who was that?” behind his casual tone was bubbling anger and sizzling jealousy ready to claw their way out of his throat. however, he’s nothing if not a master of hiding his true emotions.

she shrugged, “just a friend,”

it was the truth. sure, the boy might be weirdly skittish around her and his cheeks seemed to be permanently dusted red whenever she looked at him, but maybe he’s just awkward with girls.

Caleb grabbed her backpack and slung it over one of his shoulders as usual, “you sure have some generous friend, Pip-squeak. he’s givin’ you ice cream and all,”

he silently glared at the flavor on the packaging, knowing it’s not her favorite. that boy couldn’t even figure out her favorite ice cream flavor, he’s still got a long way to go.

“i guess,” the girl was busy tearing the ice cream apart, oblivious to the scoff he let out under his breath.

the walk home was unusually quiet, filled with only the scraping of their shoes against the asphalt. she’s too overstimulated to investigate the cause of her chatterbox friend to be so quiet. after all, the sun was grilling her alive, so the silence was welcomed.

droplets of melted ice cream landed on her uniform without her realizing.

“ah! my uniform!!” by the time she noticed, the white fabric was already painted with splotches of color from the ice cream.

a fond smile bloomed across his face. despite his earlier annoyance, her antics always amused him. he gently grabbed her hand, cupping the ice cream so it trickles down his palm instead of her sleeve.

“are you gonna finish it soon?” she’s always lagged behind him in terms of eating speed. he knew her answer before she even opened her mouth.

“ugh, it’s not like i can shove it all inside my mouth! unlike you, i don’t inhale my food,” she huffed.

“thought you might say so,” he grinned before leaning down.

her eyes widened when he opened his mouth and devoured the entire ice cream in one go. a shocked, offended gasp left her,

“hey, that’s mine!!” appalled barely scratched the extent of her feelings right now. of course it’s a common occurrence for them to share and steal food from one another.

however, today the sun was unforgivingly hot and the air felt drier than ever. hell was leaking, for sure. there’s no way she’d let him get away with this.

“what are you eating my food for, fatty?!” she balled up her free hand and attempted to hit his chest but he easily caught it.

he rolled his eyes, “puh-lease, you don’t even like this flavor that much. or are you so hellbent savoring it because that boy gave it to you?”

“huh??” it took her a while to make sense of his words because she completely forgot about the giver, so his accusation was downright ridiculous. but before she could retort, Caleb gripped her hands tighter.

his warm breath fanned her overheated skin. without any warning, he latched onto her wrist and licked the melting ice cream.

“wha—?!” she shuddered. the weather was too hot for her to recognize that her cheeks were warming up because of him, but she surely noticed her quickening heartbeat.

undeterred by her reaction, Caleb continued to clean up her hand. the sweetness lingered bitterly on his tongue, knowing it was someone else’s token of affection. he easily snatched the ice cream stick out of her hand and tossed it into a nearby bin with perfect accuracy.

“there. all clean now,” he huffed proudly to himself after cleaning her from traces of that boy’s gift.

“let’s hurry home so i can wash that stain off,” he walked ahead, leaving her to run after him to catch up with his larger strides.

she jabbed her index into his back, a playful frown on her face, “you better buy me another one, Caleb!”

an amused scoff escaped him as he wrapped his arm around her frame and dragged her close to his body, “i know, i know. you can count on me to get you the one you actually love,”