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[bittencider]

TURBULENCE AND WINE

character(s): Caleb Xia x f!reader (fluff)

getting wine drunk with best friend caleb (and the world feels like a good place again)

warnings: alcohol consumption, slightly suggestive

wc: 1.7k

Getting wine drunk with your best friend Caleb on a Friday evening, rather than going clubbing or to a frat party, was one of the weekly activities that quickly became a tradition since you moved out together.

You would sit in your shared apartment, balcony door left slightly ajar, so the evening breeze could slip in and mingle with the hot smell of homemade mini pizzas. The ‘100% Colombian’ album by Fun Lovin’ Criminals was playing on the vinyl record in the background and the lights were dimmed, few scented candles and a table lamp brightening the place from the coffee table.

Caleb was leaning against one armrest of the small couch, arm hanging over it, absurdly long legs outstretched while yours were nestled in his lap. You sat opposite him, eyes closed, bopping your head to the beat of the music, feeling it flow through you, slightly dizzy from the wine and warmth of the blanket covering your pj shorts. His other hand was wrapped around your ankle, brushing it over with his thumb as he always did.

Your friendship was quite touchy in general, but the moment alcohol slowed the firing in your brain, the concept of personal space left the chat completely.

Some evenings he would just massage your feet after a long day, others he ran his fingertips up and down your calves as he rambled about an interesting article he read, or simply had you lay on his chest, scratching your tired back after a particularly tough exam with your face buried in his neck until you both dozed off and woke up with back pains the next day.

“Pips?”

“Hmmm?” you hummed not bothering to open your eyes just yet.

“Your glass is empty.”

“Somebody sucks at their job then.”

Caleb pinched the sole of your foot which almost made you kick him in the face. “You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You groaned, retracting your feet from him and throwing the blanket over your shoulders. “Don’t worry, don’t cry. Drink wine and flyyy~” You reached for the wine glass and maneuvered it through the air like an aircraft, attempting to replicate the engine’s sounds as it made its way to his side of the couch.

The glass was snatched from your palm and Caleb was already stumbling to the kitchen counter. His strut got interrupted a few times when he missed the presence of a chair or came dangerously close to the edge of the table, slamming a foot against it, doing his best to bite back a cry.

Frowning at the lack of his proximity you were on your feet in an instant, propping yourself on the counter next to him, legs dangling and absentmindedly dragging the sleeves of his pj pants up and down with your toes.

“I want the Portuguese one. With the yellow tram and a fisherman cooking a fish on it.”

“Roger, ma’am.” He moved to stand in between your legs, aiming for the bottle on the highest shelf right above you. He suddenly drunk-swayed to the side and you grabbed him by the waist, tilting him back to neutral, which made both of you erupt in laughter.

But as he lifted his arms to reach for it again, the shirt’s hem raised slightly, just above his navel, revealing the happy trail that disappeared again near the apex of his v-line. It was the same colour as his hair - dark, tousled.

“Maybe you should take a pic, pips,” he grinned down at you.

“Maybe you should grow a few more inches so you can reach my wine, little boy,” you tugged at it slightly which made him yelp and squirm away from you.

“Well, then help me!”

“No.”

“No Portuguese then.”

You almost sobered up. “What can I do?” You pushed off the counter and placed your hands on your hips, looking up at the stack of red on the shelf by the ceiling.

“If you sit on my-”

“Jeez, at least wine and dine me first.”

He poked your side in response. “If you sit on my shoulders, we can easily get it.”

You stared at him, unblinking. After a beat, you clicked your tongue and let another beat drop before responding. “You nearly took half the shelf with you to the ground five seconds ago. What exactly makes you think I’m getting on your shoulders?”

“The desperate drunk gremlin within you.”

“Fair. Get on your knees then, peasant.”

Caleb laughed and crouched, patting his shoulder like he was inviting you for a ride of a lifetime. You slid your arms around his neck and locked him close, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “If you drop me,” you whispered, “I’m haunting you. Forever. Creaking floors and scary voices at 3am and all.”

He turned to you, alcohol-stained breaths mingling between you. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, honey.”

After that, you swung your legs over his shoulders and squeezed his face between your thighs. “Ready for take-off, Captain Caleb,” you tugged at the strands of his hair. “Climb us up.”

You could feel his cheeks jolt up against your bare skin and he began to raise up. “Climbing. Altitude’s increasing, we’re almost at the shelf level.”

“Perfect. Now, ease the bank just a bit to the left. We need perfect alignment with the shelf.”

“Just reach for it pip-”

You whacked him on the head. “Stay in character.”

He straightened immediately. “Apologies, Captain. Banking left, steady.”

You stretched and stretched, until your fingers finally wrapped around the bottle’s neck. “Mission complete! RTB! RTB!” you squealed, tugging at his hair a bit too roughly.

“Heading home. Coordinates of base Couch 10-4 confirmed. Captain Caleb out.”

He took the bottle from you and bit your thigh out of an inexplicable impulse, which gained him a giggle from you. You tugged at the right side of his hair and he pivoted just so, slowly making his way back to the living room.

Suddenly, the aircraft jolted and Caleb lost his footing. The world tilted, hands fumbled around, and you saw your life beginning to flash in front of your eyes.

“CALEB!” you screamed, gripping onto his head in the last moment like it was an actual control stick, shifting your weight so he stumbled into a wall rather than to the floor. “Oh my god, what was that?!”

Caleb quickly recovered, chuckling and slurring his words a little. “Just- just a little turbulence, pip-squeak. No biggie. Just-... just a little shake up. To make it an authentic experience for you.” He dropped his head back to smirk at you.

“I’ll give you an authentic experience of a bottle up your ass, if you don’t nail the landing in the next ten seconds."

With the threat hanging over his head, Caleb tightened his grip on you and eventually plopped both of you on the couch without any further injuries.

The red has never tasted better, but about halfway through the bottle, the realisation hit you. You smacked a palm against your forehead so hard that Caleb winced as if it was him whom you struck.

You buried a nail in his chest. “Your evol! You could’ve used it!”

He took a slow sip, not breaking away from your infuriated gaze. “Where’s the fun in that?”

A pillow immediately came flying his way - he caught it effortlessly, twirling it in the air with his evol. But before he started to gloat, a wet olive smacked dead between his brows. It hit with a soft thwack, leaving a wet spot after it bounced off, replacing his cocky grin with a scowl.

Within seconds you were being pulled towards him across the couch. “Don’t start fights you cannot win,” he laughed, making you crash into his lap. He flipped you and your back hit his thighs with a thud; his cruel tickle attack left you wheezing and begging for mercy within seconds.

When you finally caught your breath and swatted him away, you peered up at him through tear-stained lashes.

Caleb’s breathing grew shallow.

You were sprawled across his lap like an outstretched, lazy cat, limbs heavy with heat and intoxication, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled with a grin that reeked of wine and cheese. From his earlier attempts to torment your sensitive ribs, your shirt was bunched up just beneath the swell of your chest, innocent nipples perking up at him through the thin fabric indecently.

One of his hands was still tangled in your sweaty hair, cradling the back of your neck, the other splayed flush against your ribcage, fingers twitching with the memory of your laughter, aftershocks of it still trembling beneath your soft skin.

Your body arched into his hand and shifted slightly to make yourself more comfortable, dragging yourself deeper into his lap like it was the most natural place in the world to be. You made no move to pull your shirt down the exposed skin. You never hid from each other in that way. Between just the two of you, everything was allowed, but nothing really expected.

With the same slick expression, you poked his cheek and another giggle spilled out of you.

“Gege?”

He tensed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” His thumb drifted over the curves of your ribs, swiping along the crease of your breast.

You trailed the valley of his cupid's bow, over his lips and chin, along the line of his throat, until your finger dipped behind the collar of his shirt. You gave it a playful tug.

“If I died before—like bam, gone—would you let me possess you? Just sometimes. Like, weekends?”

He leaned back, resting both elbows atop the back of the couch. “Depends on what you’d do with my body.”

You chewed on your lip for a brief moment. “I bet I’d be a sexy ghost.”

He raised a single eyebrow at you.

“Would you build me a shrine?” you shrugged, “Like… not a weird one. A chic one. Tasteful. Candles. Flowers. And monthly copies of Vogue.”

He watched you for a beat too long. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Vogue’s a serious order,” he murmured. “But since you’re my girl, I suppose.”

You grinned at your victory.

He tilted his head. “But only if you promise to whisper things to me through the night.”

You snorted. “Like what - secrets? How you’ll never get rid of me?”

“Either” he said, circling the soft dip between your collarbones. “I’ll never sleep again.”

You shifted again, fingers still looped behind his collar. “Good,” you whispered. “That way you’ll miss me properly.”

a.n.: all the "best friend flatmate caleb" fics can be found under this tag #get in loser we're repressing feelings - ft. bestie caleb they're a bit of an optional series (some ups and downs of them as once childhood best friends and now uni flatmates) yayyyy <333 so if you liked this and would to read some more, i hope u like the other ones toooo!! kisses and good night<333

tag list for my loves: @cordidy

[bittencider]

MORE TOUCHIE!

character(s): Caleb Xia x f!reader (fluff)

touch starved best friend caleb~ (just lemme smooch this guy till he cant breathe pls)

wc: 1.6k

based on this request ~ have a lovely day my loveee <333

Caleb clenched a steaming bowl of honey sriracha wings & rice and shuffled his feet outside the locked door of your room.

“Pip-squeak?”

It had been days since you began your studython - days where you’d only dart out of the room to go to the bathroom and retreat before he could even get a glimpse of you. Days. DAYS since you reciprocated any kind of touch or attempt at a conversation. 

“Pips, I brought you dinner,” he added, palm resting on the door.

More silence.

Caleb understood. He truly did - school was a priority for you - but he just missed you so badly. The slap of your feet against the floorboards. Your obnoxious chewing and delighted moans over his nailed dinners. He missed the poking, groping and ass-slapping you subjected him to on a daily basis. Missed the way you always scratched his back during a movie, crawled onto his lap to watch the sunset from the apartment's balcony, climbed inside his hoodie to take a nap.

He just felt so cold lately - no leech feeding off of him. He missed the lack of personal space - hands constantly in his hair or feet in his lap. God, he even missed massaging your feet!

Then - thudding. Footsteps on the other side of the door. He almost dropped the dinner.

The lock clicked, but the door remained closed. He took it as enough of an invitation to enter and slipped inside.

The air was as stuffy as if he opened a bomb shelter, RedBull mingling with something he couldn’t place and also wouldn’t dare to question. But under it all… you. The smell of you made him feel like an addict who just relapsed - sweet with a tinge of sweat and coffee. His head spun.

“-can leave it on the table. Thanks.”

He turned his eyes up from the paper-and-cans-littered floor to you on the other side of the room. Your voice was flat and back turned to him as you scribbled something on a whiteboard attached to the wall, swimming in sticky notes and booklets.

He set the bowl next to the one he left in front of your door for lunch. Barely touched. 

“I was thinking… maybe we could watch a movie later? So you take a break?”

“Can’t.”

He pouted but didn’t say anything. Still, he made his way to you, carefully, not to step on any flashcards or disturb you from the flow. He tapped a pile of books as he passed them, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He only stopped when he was almost pressed to your back and leaned over your shoulder, humming at the diagram you were annotating.

But the moment his chin made contact with your shoulder to rest there, you shrugged him off with a low whine. His heart dropped to his stomach.

He looked around, trying to preoccupy himself with something, but it soon got the better of him…

“You’re slouching again,” he mumbled and pressed a palm to your back in an attempt to straighten you up. You tensed up and it sent prickles up his arm.

You side-stepped away from him to write on a new spot on the board…

Your hair was barely tied and a few strands slipped loose and hung in your eyes. You blew them away but they fell right back where they were annoying you.

Caleb reached out before he even registered it - tucked some behind your ears and smoothed the others down against your scalp. He ran his palm over the strands, over and over, to make sure they wouldn’t disturb your focus again. Oh, how he missed-

“Stop petting me.”

His hand froze mid-stroke. He moved behind you with a hard swallow and pretended not to see the stinging glare you threw over your shoulder.

Still, he couldn’t stop. He reached for the limp band that held your hair together and gave it a tug so it spilled down your back.

“Caleb-”

“Your neck is boiling,” he said quickly, “I’ll just fix it. Tie it up better, I promise.”

You ran him down with a pointed look but nodded. His heart did a flip at the achievement. 

He gathered the strands and peeled them off your damp neck, fingers brushing over skin he missed so bloody much. He threaded through them and scratched your scalp as he smoothed the uneven sections out.

“You’ll kick this exam’s ass,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good-”

“It’ll kick mine if you don’t let me focus.”

…

He ducked his head with a tiny nod but stayed close. Secured the bun in place. His shoulders brushed yours as he picked up one of your markers and scribbled something at the edge of your notes.

“u got this, nerd!” Underneath it, a wobbly doodle of an apple with a pencil and a graduates cap.

You didn’t react, but he swore the corners of your lips twitched.

When you lifted your arm to write higher up, your shirt rose slightly and exposed the small of your back.

Caleb tucked the fabric down.

“You should be careful so your kidneys-"

“Not. Now. Caleb.”

He reached for your hand anyway, frowning at a smudge of ink on your knuckles. “You’ve got marker on you. Let me help you.” He started to sweep his thumb over the stain with a pleased smile.

You ripped your hand away. “Jesus Christ, Caleb! Can you stop clinging for one fucking second?!”

The words hit worse than a slap. His eyes widened and his hands dropped like they burnt you.

“O-okay.” His voice cracked. “Yeah. Sorry.”

He stepped back. “Sorry, pips.” He ran a hand through his hair and blinked back the wet edges of his vision, hoping you didn’t catch the wobble in his throat. He hastily gathered some of the plates on your desk with shaky hands and rushed out the door, tripping slightly over the divider.

The door clicked neatly shut and you turned back to the board.

The marker’s screech halted mid-word and you stared at the unfinished word. You dropped your face in your palms.

The silence wasn’t peaceful - it crawled up your calves and bound your throat.

The laptop hummed. The timer clicked. The dread engulfed you.

God. It was just an exam. One, single, stupid exam.

You rubbed your eyebags.

The boy simply missed you... And you-

The cap clicked back on the marker.

You creeped through the apartment like it was a walk of shame and found him in the kitchen, hunched over the sink. His hoodie sagged a little off one shoulder, the sleeves were pushed up unevenly, revealing his forearms as he scrubbed at your plates.

You stepped closer as if testing the waters. Then closer.

Your arms circled his waist, slipping under his hoodie and tugging him against you.

He tensed.

Your cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. “Caleb…”

His grip loosened on the sponge and hands went limp in the dishwater. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you-”

“Shut up.” You squeezed tighter. “I was being an ass. A mean ass. I’m so sorry.”

He let out a long breath and you nuzzled closer, rubbing your nose into his back. “I missed you too.”

His hands braced on the counter. “You did?”

You nodded against him and he let you hold him like that for a moment later.

When you eased the hold and tugged at his hand, he followed without a question, water droplets trailing you both to the couch.

You plopped down on it and opened your arms. “C’mere.”

He stared at your figure laying there for a second. Then he was sandwiching you between him and the cushions in an instant.

Arms around your waist and legs tangled with yours like a human pretzel, he buried his face into your chest.

You chuckled and wrapped one arm around his neck, traced the shell of his ear with the other. “You’re heavy," you spoke into his hair - it smelled of your shampoo. You took another curious, deeper inhale and... yep... You smelled your body wash on him too.

His voice was muffled. “Missed you.”

He made a strangled noise when your nails scratched behind his ear. 

“I was going insane, Pips.” He brushed his lips over your collarbone.

“I know. I know, bab-” You bit down on your tongue. “I know, Caleb... You should yell at me sometimes.”

He raised his head, hair sticking out in weird angles. “I’d never yell at you,” he sneered. “Not like that.”

You cupped his face and brushed the hair back from his forehead.

His freckled face turned a rosy shade and his lips parted. “Could you…” he averted his eyes from you for a moment. “Could you scratch my back?”

You squeezed his yummy cheeks between your palms. “Of course."

He raised to his knees to pull the hoodie and shirt over his head. He threw them on the floor and sank down on you like a weighted, heated blanket. 

Your nails dragged over the muscle and he groaned into your neck. “Can we stay like this today?”

“We’d need snacks.”

The cupboards flew open and bags of Doritos and dried fruits with nuts blasted past your heads. You instinctively shielded his with your arms. It all landed on the table, faint traces of Caleb’s evol lingering on it and making the air buzz.

“Needy,” you grinned and scratched closer to his ribs. He melted against you, humming under his breath.

"Never denied it..."

An hour later, you still hadn’t changed positions once. Caleb was half-asleep, twitching every time you scratched just the right spot on his back or behind his ears. One arm under your shirt. The other gripping your thigh, tucked in between your legs.

“I need to piss,” you kissed his hair.

“No, you don’t.”

“... Alright.”

caleb's radio: Isn’t it Love - Patrick McHale

The morning was quiet. Slow.

No rushing. No alarms. Just the smell of scrambled eggs and toasted bread. A clink of a mug against the table.

You blinked up as Caleb placed your favourite tea beside your notes, steam curling upward in the morning breeze sneaking in through the window. He didn't say anything - just smiled and tucked a blanket tighter around your shoulders, before padding back to the stove.

There was music playing softly, something quite old and instrumental.

He wasn’t hovering this time. He moved around you with ease. He leaned down at one point to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, and whispered: “Got your bag packed. Put some fruits in there. Nothing heavy so the blood goes straight up to the brains.”

Before he could straighten back up, you caught his hand. Held it in both of yours. Rubbed your thumbs over his knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head before you could even continue. “No, you were stressed. I get it.” He curled his pinky around yours. “Just… thank you for coming back for me.”

When it was time to leave, he helped you into your coat and carried your bag all the way to the exam hall. Not a single word the whole way - just pinkies loosely interlaced.

At the door, he cupped your cheeks and lowered his voice. “I’ll be right here when you come out, okay?” You nodded. “No matter how it goes. Always. But you’re going to crush it. You always do.”

And you did crush it. Of course you did.

When you walked back out, squinting against the afternoon sun, he was there. Arms wide open. Standing exactly where you left him, waiting with bags from your favourite takeout place by his feet.

You didn’t walk - you ran.

And this time, you were the one melting into him when he caught you.

He rocked you excitedly side to side. “You absolute genius!” His breath was warm in your hair. “I’m so, so proud of you, honey.”

You pulled back just enough to kiss your fingers and tap them against his nose. He blinked, dazed and rosy.

“Let’s go home,” you grinned.

He smiled, picked up the bags, and outstretched the pinkie on his free hand to you.

if u enjoyed here are some moree <333  #get in loser we're repressing feelings - ft. bestie caleb  yayyyy <333

if u have any other requests or are interested in a pure cuddles snuggles one pleseeeee ~ my mailbox is always open for suggestions ~

a.n. might have been all of the exams anxieties sublimating into this one upsie daisy ~ imagine having a caleb to pick u up from that hell with takeout *bites into her tear-soaked pillow and screams my psyche found a soft place to land this fine evening ~ and i shall disappear into the black hole that are my notes again... kisses to u allll <333

tag list for my lovessss (if u wanna be added just leave a comment, shoot me a message, or literally anything <333): @cordidy, @midiplier, @mariojins

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caleb has a habit of tilting his head down when you're talking to him, especially when you're standing close. it's not dramatic, just enough to catch your gaze, brows slightly raised like he’s listening to you and only you.

it's the kind of look that makes you forget what you were saying for a second.

the worst part? he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. he'll lean an elbow on a table or rest a hand against a doorframe, letting his height naturally create that downward angle: eyes low-lidded, mouth relaxed, totally unbothered. and you'll just stare, cheeks heating up, heartbeat skipping.

and when he does know?

he tilts a little more, lowers his voice, and murmurs, “you were saying?”

yeah. he knows.

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notes: fluff, jealousy, clingy, non!mc, caleb is a tad bit ooc,,

my first fic! english is not my first language so sorry if it’s kinda ass :-(

the first time caleb met her, she was standing in the middle of her tiny front yard with scraped knees, dirt on her cheeks, and a scowl that threatened to split the ground.

caleb was eight, just two years older, leaning on the gate that separated his house from hers, chewing on the end of an apple juice straw. he’d been watching her for five minutes before he finally spoke.

“you’re gonna scare all the bugs away if you keep frowning like that.”

she froze, spun around, and narrowed her eyes at him. her voice was soft, almost as quiet as a whisper. “who are you?”

“i’m caleb.” he pressed his face between the bars of the gate in an attempt to get a better look at her. “you just moved in, right?”

she nodded slowly, still frowning. “are you from here?”

“born and raised,” he smiled. “you’re crying.”

“i’m not,” she pouted, quickly rubbing her face with a dirty sleeve.

“you are,” he said, already pushing the gate open without hesitation. he kneeled beside her, looking at the flowerbed in front of them curiously. “what are you looking for?”

“my... hairpin,” she muttered. “it has a blue butterfly on it. my granny gave it to me.”

he hummed, thoughtful, already scanning through the weeds. “wanna help?”

she didn’t answer, but she didn’t stop him either.

together, they searched in silence until caleb triumphantly held up the butterfly-shaped pin, dirt still clinging to the metal.

she stared at him with widened eyes like he’d just done a magic trick.

he gave it to her without a word, then stood up and dusted off his knees. and with a smile, he said to her softly, “there, no more crying, ‘kay?”

that was just the beginning.

she didn’t know how it happened, but soon caleb was simply there. he was the one who sat next to her in every group project, the one who slipped notes into her lunchbox, and the one who stood between her and a fast-moving volleyball when she had spaced out during gym class.

he had a knack for knowing where she was—even when she tried to disappear—and what she needed before she even did.

every morning, every aftertoon, every time she got overwhelmed by the noisy city or missed the quiet trees of her old home, caleb was her shadow, her shelter.

and she wasn’t any different—constantly following him like a duckling, and he let her. he liked it. honestly, he loved it.

he didn’t even mind when she clung to him too tightly—or cried when she couldn't keep up.

she depended on him almost completely, which was exactly what he wanted, and he never once made her feel like a burden.

It was as if she was the sun, and caleb simply orbited around her.

by the time they were in highschool, caleb’s legs stretched out like vines and his shoulders broadened, he stood at an intimidating 188cm.

he had become an entirely different person—yet somehow still the same.

strong, athletic, annoyingly handsome—and has a smile that could smooth over any awkward moment. he wasn’t just well-liked either—he was adored. friendly, easy-going, impossibly charming. even the teachers gave him too much leniency.

and she hated it.

she didn’t hate the fact that he was popular, nor how good he was in everything. but that he didn’t look at her the same way he used to.

the way he waved back at other girls in the hallway, smiled too long, and joked too easily with anyone who wasn’t her. she’d never admit it, but it dug into her like a thorn under skin.

he still made time for her. still waited outside her class for her, still walked her home, still teased her when she got all pouty. he still saw her. but it felt... diluted. spread out.

she missed when she was the center of his attention.

it was a friday after school, she headed towards the soccer field, where caleb was supposed to have practice at that day.

surprisingly, her eyes caught on to his tall figure standing outside the field, surrounded by a small group of girls.

he was laughing—really laughing—and one of them even held his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

she stood behind a pillar, watching as her stomach twisted.

she hated that too.

later that evening, she came home, angrily kicking rocks that were in her way.

she looked up at her porch, her eyes finding a figure that was all too familiar.

unsurprisingly, caleb was already sitting on the steps, arms draped loosely over his knees.

he'd done this a hundred times before—waited for her to come home.

“hey,” he said, glancing up. “you’re late. you okay?”

she didn't answer. she just dropped beside him, back pressed against the wood railing.

“long day?” he tried again, his eyes scanning her slumped figure.

still no answer.

“you’re mad.”

“no, i’m not.” she snapped too fast, arms crossed.

caleb arched a brow, “see, you are.”

she turned to him sharply. “why wouldn’t i be? you’ve been practically flirting with half of the school.”

he blinked, clearly wasn’t expecting that. “what’re you talking about?” then he gave a small, amused laugh. “what, you jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” she bit out. “i just think it’s stupid. you were acting like some dumb prince charming, and everyone was falling all over themselves for it.”

there was a beat of silence. then caleb leaned in a little, his voice lower.

“didn’t know you cared who i flirted with.”

she stiffened. her cheeks burned. “i don’t.”

“you sure?”

“yes,” she hissed, glaring at the floor.

caleb didn’t say anything right away. he just watched her—attentive, quiet, as he always was whenever she’d get upset.

“i only flirt when you're watching,” he said suddenly, softly. “because it’s the only time you look at me like that.”

she froze.

like what?

before she could ask, he leaned back, looking up at the sky like he hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb at her.

“i don’t care about them nor like them, you know.” he added after a moment, “i never have.”

she swallowed, hard. the air between them felt charged—too much, too loud, too fast.

“who do you like, then?” she asked, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.

caleb leaned in just a little bit closer to her face when he answered.

“you.”

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So Fucking Domestic

(mdni 18+) How many times a week is it normal for a couple to do it? Well... You and Caleb are definitely above average.

1.2k. small hc about domestic life and boyfriend!caleb with a little bit of spicy hihi

Since you and Caleb started seeing each other officially, it was only natural that you spent more time in Skyhaven and he in Linkon. You both had such dense and strenuous routines that at any free moment you tried to be together and make the most of it. On a particular day during the first month of your relationship, you arrived at the Colonel's apartment and found some step stools placed at strategic spots in the apartment. They were large and discreet, one near the kitchen counter, another by the bathroom sink, another by the bookcase in the study and many others. The answer when you asked Caleb about it was simple: when he became a colonel and got the right to an apartment, the Fleet asked for his height to make the furniture as proportional and functional as possible for him. Now that you were spending more time there, he made sure to have those steps made at the right height for you, so that you could be as comfortable as possible. In fact, you always wondered why the sink seemed so high when you brushed your teeth, and how uncomfortable it was to cut things on the counter when you tried to cook something. Caleb was always so efficient and attentive, and you loved that about him.

A week after steps stools were added to the apartment, you were used to them. One day, while you were at the kitchen sink, peeling some apples for a quick snack, Caleb came in from a night mission.

"Hey! Want an apple?" You smiled when he hugged you from behind, sinking his face into the nape of your neck easily because of the extra height the step stool gave you.

"What a miracle to find you in the kitchen," he kissed your neck and held your hips, gluing you to him. You brought a piece of apple to his mouth over your shoulder and forced him to eat it, to shut him up. "Hmpf" He tried to speak and you turned around, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"How was it today?" You gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"Boring. I just wanted to come home to you." He rubbed his cheek against yours, sighing. "Buuuut, I had time to think of something"

"Hm?" You hummed with your eyes closed, feeling the warmth of his face against yours.

"I was wondering if... You'd let me put my cock inside you without me having to ask or with any ceremony." He said in a careful voice. "Of course, if you don't want to at the moment, just tell me and I'll completely stop. I totally understand if you find it weird and don't want to do this and I pinky promise we never have to talk about it again and I'll never bring it up ev-“

"I want it!” you said and threw your head to one side. His eyes widened in surprise. "Wherever you want. No matter when you want. I trust you." You kissed one of his eyes. "And I love the idea of you fucking me without ceremony and at any time."

"God, you're going to drive me absolutely crazy. Thank you." He squeezed you in a tight hug.

Once the two of you had agreed on this, you initially thought you'd be having sex the way you always did, hard, deep, kinky, full of fluids, scratches and bites, or doing intense quickies several times a day. But no, it was simple and intimate, simply delicious. Caleb just wanted to be with you and inside you all the time.

Little by little, you realized how the stool he had ordered served more than one purpose. Sometimes you'd be doing your makeup for work, standing in front of the bathroom sink, and Caleb would simply approach you, asking about your plans for the day. As the ordinary words and dialog went on between the two of you, he would gently pull up your shirt, pull down your panties and put his cock inside you. It was addictive. The fucking step stool not only gave you the perfect height for the furniture in the house, but also to leave your ass at the right height for Caleb to find himself in you without having to hold you down, sit or lie down. It was usually like this: his cock nestling into you with slow, intimate strokes, while you both carried on chatting about anything, just spending time together.

By then, you made a habit of walking around the house in your (his) large shirt and no panties, knowing that Caleb liked to be with you, inside you, whenever he could. Of course, you still had brutal sex like two animals frequently, but it seemed that Caleb's obsession and need for you - and you for him - was able to bring about the most painfully intimate, simple and tender sex of your lives. It was just so good to trust so deeply in someone and to want someone so badly that no words or timing were needed. At one moment it was a "Can I stay here with you, baby?" and the next you were reading your book, bent over the counter, while Caleb slid his cock up and down between your folds, stroking himself against your clit, praising you and your pretty pussy. He did it not only because he wanted it, but because he could.

Sometimes he wouldn't even come, or even move. If you were watching a movie, he would surely be inside you, both of you cuddled up, relaxing after an exhausting day, cockwarming.

In fact, you liked it so much that when he didn't take the initiative, you went after him. There were times when he was reading reports, sitting on the living room sofa or in the office armchair, and you would silently approach him, fiddling with your cell phone, sit on his thighs, and soon his cock was hard and hot under his pants. Within moments, you were slowly riding his throbbing cock, while he used his thumb to caress your clit, slowly, just like the rise and fall of your hips. If you got tired, you didn't have to get up. You just kept yourself there, hugging Caleb, with his hard cock throbbing inside you, filling you up completely.

One day, talking to Tara and Simone at the pub in Linkon, the topic came up: "How many times a week is it normal for a couple to have sex?", and the girls debated curiously.

"I don't know, three or two times a week? It depends on their schedule." Simone said, sipping her drink.

"Some couples do it every day! Can you imagine? Having sex every day?" Tara said, her eyes widening. " What about you and your boyfriend? How often do you do it?" She asked, curious.

And that made you wonder. There was the mind-blowing sex, the longing sex, the dirty sex, the rough sex, the slow sex, the sex when you were reading, the sex when he was reading, the sex when you were on your cell phones, the sex when talking about anything, the sex on the kitchen counter, the sex on the bathroom sink, the bath time sex, the movie time sex, the bed time sex, the sleep time sex, the wake up time sex, the boredom time sex, the play time sex… And all you could do was blink, trying to calculate how many times a week Caleb and you had sex and it simply wasn't possible to count.

You laughed, sipped your drink and sighed.

"I don't know, I don't count." And it wasn't a lie.

[bittencider]

Mc x colonel Caleb but they're married and Mc is jealous bc he's been receiving alot of attention from the new cadets. Mc claims him and she has control over him to show them that he belongs to her. She trails him in hickeys that are very obvious. I just can’t get enough of this head canon.

𝐚/𝐧: i actually received two asks regarding caleb and mc/the reader being married. i personally am not sure whether they would get married or not, i feel like they'd be the type to simply want to be together even without labels, if that makes sense. i fell asleep writing this yesterday so the ending may be a little... incoherent.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

it started small.

barely-there things, things caleb didn’t even seem to notice. a few new cadets lingering too long near the hangars after his briefings. a suspicious amount of questions suddenly aimed his way during debriefs— questions that had nothing to do with protocol and everything to do with the way his sleeves rolled up just right, or how sharp his jaw looked when he was serious.

she sat through one too many of those interactions that week.

she didn’t mean to pout— but there was something about the way those wide-eyed cadets hovered around her husband lately that made her fingers twitch and her gaze narrow just slightly. she never said anything, of course. caleb was hers. everyone knew that. ring on her finger, his last name stitched into her head, his dog tags brushing against her collarbone when he held her too close during late nights…

still.

when one of the newer recruits had the audacity to giggle at something caleb said— giggled and clung to his arm like some sort of girltoy— she folded her arms across her chest and refused to look at him for the next day.

caleb noticed immediately, of course. he always did. 

later that evening, after the lights had dimmed and the base had quieted, he tugged her into his quarters with that familiar knowing smirk, unbuttoning his collar as he leaned in close. 

“you’ve been real quiet, darlin’,” he murmured, voice low and rough with amusement. “somethin’ wrong?” 

her eyes flickered up to him, wide and falsely innocent. “nothing,” she said, her voice soft, betraying just the faintest edge of sulkiness. 

“oh?” caleb raised a brow, his voice dipping into teasing. “’cause i couldn’t help but notice you glarin’ holes through the back of that poor cadet’s head earlier.”

“i wasn’t glaring,” she mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“no?” he leaned closer, hands braced on either side of her on the wall, a crooked grin playing on his lips. “‘cause if i didn’t know any better, i’d say someone was jealous.”

her cheeks instantly flared, pink blooming from her ears down her throat.

“i’m not jealous,” she muttered, even as her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer. 

“mhmmm,” he hummed, the sound low in his throat. “you sure about that, mrs. xia? could’ve fooled me. the way you’ve been glarin’ at anyone who so much as breaths near me says otherwise.” he let out, his hands sliding up her hips.

“i just don’t like when they act like they have a chance… it’s not fair…” 

caleb raised a brow, watching her intently. “what’s not fair? darlin’, no one’s ever had a chance but you.”

her breath hitched and something snapped.

soft hands fisted in the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to kiss her— fierce, possessive. it wasn’t like her, not the way she usually kissed. this was needier. claiming. 

she backed him into the hallway wall, lips trailing down to the curve of his neck. “you’re mine,” she murmured, almost surprised at the sound of her own voice. “not theirs. mine.”

caleb’s head fell back, a low groan catching in his throat as she nipped gently at the edge of his jaw.

then again, lower. 

“fuck, baby—“ he rasped, half-laughing, half-dazed. “you’re really lettin’ ‘em have it, huh?” 

he still had the nerve to tease even now, what an absolute jerk. she didn’t answer— not with words. just another kiss, this one firm and slow, the beginning of a trail that marked him as thoroughly as any uniform ever had. 

a soft nip to his skin cut any further comments he had short. then another— a deliberate press of her mouth right at the base of his neck, where the collar of his uniform wouldn’t quite hide it. her kiss turned deeper, open-mouthed and warm, sucking faintly until color bloomed beneath her lips in a flush of dusky red.

caleb hissed softly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand came to rest on her thigh, grip tightening. “darlin’, that’s gonna bruise.”

“good,” she murmured, her breath tickling his skin. she kissed over it again, slower this time, her tongue smoothing over the mark she’d left. “i want them to know you’re mine.”

caleb exhaled roughly, eyes dark when he looked back at her. 

“they can look at they want, but i’m the one who gets to touch.” 

caleb groaned, his hands gripping her hips and pressing her back against the door, firm but reverent. “fuck, you’re killin’ me. you wanna stake your claim? you better mean it.”

“i do,” she breathed, fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt. “colonel.” 

his name on her lips like that— soft and hungry, like a prayer— broke something loose in him. caleb leaned in and kissed her, full and deep, one arm wrapped around her waist as he lifted her slightly off the ground. her legs wrapped around him without hesitation, her fingers threading through his hair.

there was nothing hurried about the way he carried her across the room, letting her fall onto their shared bed with a bounce and a soft gasp. he followed, bracing himself above her with that cock, slow-burning grin. 

“you gonna keep markin’ me up like that?” he teased, voice a delicious rasp as he peeled his shirt off entirely, revealing the fresh array of hickeys she’d left in her wake— each one a soft bruise of affection and heat.

her lips parts, gaze hungry. “i’m not finished,” she whispered. 

“baby,” he growled softly, “everyone fuckin’ knows i’m yours. and everyone knows you’re mine just as much.” 

he captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his desire and possession into it. he kissed her like a man starved, like she was the only thing that could satiate him as his hands roamed her curves, mapping out the dips and swells he knew by heart. 

she squirmed beneath his touch, body aching for more. she could feel the heat building between her legs, a throbbing need that only intensified with every brush of his fingers against her skin. she was jealous and possessive, and she wanted him to know that.

“caleb,” she whimpered, her voice thick with desire. “i need you. i need to feel you. i can’t strand the thought of anyone else touching you like this.” she arched her back against his touch, pressing her breasts against his touch, the hard points of her nipples evident through the thin fabric of her shirt. 

caleb chuckled softly, amused by her neediness. “shh, i know baby. i know you need me. i’m not going anywhere.” he rolled his hips against hers, letting her feel his hard cock through his pants. “you’re stuck with me.”

but she was too far gone to be soothed. she pushed at his chest, a little more insistently this time. “no, let me. i wanna be on top.” she sat up this time, pushing him back and straddling his hips, her knees on either side of his waist. 

it was such a childish thing to whine about, and though caleb found it endearing, he knew that she was very much serious, despite her clumsy words.

“hm, who am i to deny my wife?” he breathed out, drinking in the sight of her above him. his gaze flickered to her left hand, to a simple silver band that encircled her ring finger. it glinted in the low light, a symbol of their commitment, their bond.

she leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest. she could feel the hard planes of muscle beneath her palms, the steady thrum of his heartbeat. she ground down against him, relishing in the feeling of power and control as she tossed aside her shirt.

her fingers were clumsy in her desperation as she fumbled with the remaining clothing caleb was wearing, tugging at it impatiently until any remaining buttons and straps gave way, revealing the hard planes of his chest. her hands roamed over the skin, tracing the lines of muscles, the scar tissues from the past. 

she paused when she reached his doglegs, glinting against his chest. the silver band of his wedding ring remained closed to his heart at all times. 

she pushed the tags from his chest, holding them in her palm. the metal was warm against her skin. “mine,” she whispered, before letting them fall against his chest once more.

caleb watched her through hooded eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. he found her attempts at dominance utterly endearing, like a kitten trying to be a lion. he let her push him back against the pillows, his hands coming to rest at her sides as he allowed her to take the lead. 

she shimmied out of her pants and underwear, kicking them to the floor as she straddled his hips once more, now bare and exposed. she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, the way his body responded so eagerly to her touch as she ran her hands over his chest, his stomach, mapping every inch of him until she reached the waistband of his pants.

with a little growl of frustration, she tugged at his belt, finally undoing it and shoving his pants down his legs. he lifted his lips to help her, his hard cock springing free, thick and heavy and all hers. 

she wrapped her hand around it, stroking him slowly, feeling him twitch and pulse against her palm. caleb’s breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. she felt a thrill of power at his reaction, at the way his body responded to her touch. even his body knew he was hers.

she positioned herself above him, feeling the head of his cock nudging against her entrance. she was wet, aching, ready for him. slowly, she sank down, taking him inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

she started to move, rolling her hips against caleb’s, but her movements were clumsy, unpracticed. she wanted so badly to be in control, to take charge and claim him fully. but her body wasn’t quite listening to her mind’s commands, far too overwhelmed with pleasure and discomfort.

she gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tried to set a rhythm, but her hips uselessly jerked and stuttered, her movements erratic. she was so close to him, filled to the brim with his hard cock, and yet… 

the frustration in her eyes was evident to caleb, the way her brows furrowed as she concentrated so fiercely on her task. he found it adorable, the way she was trying so hard to be dominant, to take charge. but he knew she needed his help and he surely didn’t mind sharing it.

“easy there, baby,” he encouraged. “let me help you.”

he reached up, his large hands gripping her hips as he guided her movements, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he helped her find her rhythm. 

“that’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low, encouraging rumble. “ride me just like that. fuck, you feel incredible.” 

she let out a soft whimper, her body melting into his touch, into his guidance. she let him take control, let him set the pace as she rocked her hips against his, feeling every thick inch of him, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her toes curl.

he guided her movements, lifting her up and pulling her back down, helping her to bounce on his thick length. the new angle allowed her to take him even deeper, and the sounds he managed to illicit from her were simply perfect.

“caleb,” she gasped, her fingers scrabbling at his chest. “oh god, caleb,” she whimpered, head calling forward against his chest. 

“shh, you’re doing so well, baby,” his voice a low rasp in her ear. “fuck, look at you, stakin’ your claim so well…”

caleb’s hands slid up her back, pulling her into a deep, filthy kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth, swallowing her moans and whimpers. he kissed her like he was starving for her, like she was the only thing that could satisfy him.

the silver band of his wedding ring, hanging around his neck on his dog tags, pressed cooly against her skin as he held her close.

finally, her body tensed, inner walls clenched around caleb as her climax crashed over her. his name spilled past his lips in desperate babbles, a broken sound of ecstasy and devotion, as a wave after wave of pleasure consumed her. caleb followed soon after, with a guttural groan of her name, his hot seed spurting deep inside of her. 

they collapsed together in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and heaving chests, caleb’s arms wrapped tightly around her trembling form. he pressed soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, murmuring words of love and praise.

as their breathing slowed, caleb couldn’t resist teasing his wife about her earlier display of jealousy. “you know, for someeoen trying to be all dominant and in control, you sure got real worked up over a little innocent flirtation.” he said with a playful smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

she simply grumbled, nuzzling into his chest with a petulant pout. “it’s not fair. they shouldn’t even be staring at you like that in the first place, not when you belong to me.” she complain, her voice muffled against his skin.

caleb chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek. “aww, but baby, you know you’re the only one for me. i’m yours, not an always. no one could ever change that,” he reassured, his hand stroking gently up and down her back.

she lifted her head to glare at him, her brown eyes still hazy from their lovemaking. “it doesn’t matter. they don’t need to know that. they just need to know that you’re mine, and i won’t let anyone forget it,” she declared sleepily, though possessiveness clung to her words.

caleb just laugh, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “yes ma’am,” he agreed, a nice of amusement still cooling his tone. 

he took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips as he pressed a soft, tender kiss to the simple silver band that encircled her ring finger. the metal was faintly cold, but he didn’t mind at all.

“mine,” he murmured against her fingers, his voice a low, possessive rumble. “my wife, my heart, my everything. i’m shackled to you, permanently.”

completely and utterly hers. 

[bittencider]

(2) even when there was rain, sunshine came

pairing. caleb x fem! childhood friend! non mc! reader (x childhood bsf! zayne)

synopsis. caleb planted a seed in your heart when you were both young, nurturing it without meaning to until it sprouted and blossomed. it shouldn't have grown this much, not when you knew you could never have him.

genres/aus. angst, fluff, f2l, unrequited love, childhood f2l

warnings. slight ooc caleb (i have not read homecoming or wtv that chapter is called BC my laptop died on me. but maybe ill get to it today since i got it on my bros pc HELP), NOT canon compliant oops (no higher being placing a curse on zayne, no experimentation done on mc and caleb bc josephine is a good person this time BYEEEE), mentions/descriptions of crying, a kiss YUCK, caleb himself is a warning tbh. if there's anything i'm missing, please let me know!

rating. sfw but make it lowk very angsty but fluffy ish at the same time.

wc. 4 k

a/n. not proof read, we die like redacted i mean what who said that. posts this rn bc i dont want to wait till midnight to post haha #lolsies also, i feel like the mood just progressively gets worse for yn 😭 like i give yn brief happiness and then BAM im like her opp, someone needs to take me out bc why am i doing this to her 💔 sorry yn i swear i love you 💔 happy early update bc im going to be busy w hw this weekend ❤️‍🔥

winter blues seep into your skin when you’re thirteen and alone during your winter break.

mc, caleb, and granny josephine went on a vacation outside linkon city, your mom has been working night shifts at the hospital as of late, your dad is in skyhaven, and zayne won’t be coming back this break.

in fact, he hasn’t once visited during his breaks from school since he started college.

you sit at the living room’s window, watching outside the glass as white specks fall from the sky.

snow.

despite being inside the comfort of your home, shielded from the biting cold of winter, you feel like your whole body is frozen over.

it’s so cold.

and caleb isn’t there to keep you warm.

a soft chime comes from your phone that sits on the empty space of the large couch you’re on. the phone was a gift from your dad after you told him that you’d like to talk to him and zayne more often. the screen turns on, and you stare at the notification.

zayne li: Hello.

the screen dims for a second before brightening again.

zayne li: I would like to say something.

there’s a knock on the door.

you reach out, your fingers wrapping around the device. you’re getting ready to type a response when another knock is heard, then another one.

and another one.

and another one.

with a sigh, you place it back down and head towards the front door. you don't even bother to check through the peephole beforehand and just open it.

“you’re here.” you gape at the older boy standing on your porch. zayne is taller now, his hair the slightest bit longer, his features a little sharper, but his hazel gaze is still warm and gentle. he stands in front of you, a suitcase to his left, and he wears a scarf around his neck along with a black trench coat.

the corners of his lips are curved upwards into a small smile. “i’m here.”

you want to hug him, but instead you open the door wider. he walks in and his body acts like clockwork whenever he’s over: he takes off his shoes and places them neatly next to yours, he hangs his coat if he has one with him at the moment, he takes a step forwards and turns around, always looking back at you to follow.

you fling yourself at him, and he catches you with ease. the tension you held melts away with his touch. your feet are in the air as he holds you tightly, and it makes you laugh. he was always taller than you, but not this tall. zayne’s cheek is next to yours, and you’re suddenly aware that despite standing outside in the biting cold, he’s actually quite…

“you’re—”

“warm.” you mumble, nuzzling closer to his neck.

zayne hums. “so are you.” you feel his smile.

like always—before he left—you take him to your room where you both end up talking and talking until the sky is dark, both of you on your bed.

“zayne, you still haven't made any friends?”

zayne looks away from you. “have you made any friends?”

you stay silent, and he continues with a quick glance at you. “he’s still distant?”

“yes…”

caleb’s been distant ever since the start of eighth grade.

you no longer study for tests with him because she needs help, and it's not like you need to study anyways because you’re so smart. while there is truth in his words, you always study with him because you like being with him.

you’re alone at lunch because he wants to keep her company—not that she needs it since she already has a group of friends.

honestly, you saw this coming from a mile away. the perfect excuse came in the shape and form of mc. you knew he regretted it, knew that he would act like nothing happened while slowly distancing himself from you.

it was the only solution he had after what happened that night.

in the beginning of june, you come to realize that there’s been a weird tension since you gifted each other the necklace. you don't know how you didn’t notice it sooner: the way he hovers closer to you, how his hands ghost your skin when he brushes against you, how his eyes linger on you for a beat longer than usual.

he titters over the fine line that is your friendship, crossing it for a second before retreating back.

you tried, you really did try, but he makes it so easy; it’s so easy to love him.

“what’s the occasion?”

you glance to the side and find caleb peering over your shoulder with ease, the silver chain of his necklace glimmering as it dangles against your shoulder, his eyes staring at the steam wafting into the air from the apple pie, his gaze flickering over to you. his lips curl upwards, his boyish smile making you tense slightly before relaxing. you focus on the pie. “just wanted to bake one.”

“*just ‘*cause you wanted to?” his tone has a teasing lilt, but you know that underneath it lies curiosity and skepticism. he doesn’t believe you. there must be a reason because why else would you bake a pie so late? why would you invite him over in the evening and ask him to stay?

so you tell him half the truth. “i haven’t baked one in a while,” you mummer, “and…”

“and?”

you love him. you love his stupid smile and the stupid freckles on his skin.

you take a quick look at him. the yellow light above the stove casts shadows over his face from his hair as he looks down at you. he’s grown too tall and now you stand right at his shoulders, his shoulders have gotten wider. his features from his childhood are starting to grow sharper. he’s no longer the eight-year-old boy with big, round eyes; he’s a soon to be fourteen-year-old with a sharp gaze.

dang it.

you love caleb. you love caleb’s stupid laugh and his stupid personality.

you slowly breathe in. “i’m leaving tomorrow noon, so… i wanted to be the first.”

he hums. “the first to what?”

“to wish you a happy birthday.”

at this, he snorts. “my birthday is tomorrow.”

“actually,” you point at the digital clock of the stove, the green numbers reading midnight. “it’s right now.”

he remains silent as you open a drawer, fishing out a lone candle and a lighter. carefully placing the candle onto the pie, you light it and turn around, forcing caleb to take a few steps back. he blinks once and then twice, staring a the burning candle. his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, barely noticeable to the naked eye had you not been so close to him. and his eyes, a light shade of amethyst, have golden specks in them that flicker.

“happy birthday to you.” you quietly sing, a smile present on your lips. you watch as his gaze snaps to you, how he stares intently at you. “happy birthday, dear cal, happy birthday to you…” you pause before quietly adding, “make a wish.”

caleb doesn’t say anything. he looks at you for a beat longer before lowering his head and closing his eyes, pursing his lips and then blowing out the candle. he stays like that, with his eyes closed, for a few seconds. then, his eyes slowly flutter open, staring at you immediately. heat blossoms on your neck and crawls up to your cheeks. you abruptly turn and place the pie down on the counter, fumbling around in search of a knife.

“what did you wish for?” you laugh nervously, your heart skipping a beat because you can still feel his gaze on you.

he doesn’t say anything.

“cal?” you turn around, your breath hitching in your throat, eyes widening at the sudden proximity. your heart hammers inside your chest. no, it isn’t from the close proximity, it’s from his eyes. they stare at you with an intensity you have never seen directed at you.

only at her.

his pupils are dilated, his amethyst gaze flickering down before going back to your eyes. “i wished for something only you,” he pauses, licking his lips, “can grant.”

“and what would that be?” your voice is barely above that of a whisper. you tremble as he gets closer, and your back meets the rough edges of the counter. your hands grab onto it to steady yourself, and his hands rest on your hips, strong and calm.

caleb crosses the line.

he leans in closer and closer until your noses are touching, your lips almost connecting. his eyes don’t stray again and remain on yours. “do you trust me?”

“of course, i do.” you breathe out. “more than anyone.”

“then… please grant me my wish.”

and he closes his eyes, the sliver of space separating each other no longer doing so. his lips are on yours, and your eyes are shut tight. it’s brief, the kiss, and caleb pulls back. his breathing comes out heavy and unsteady before he’s diving back in, the next kiss now intense and burning.

he hums. “you’re shivering… am i making you nervous?”

of course he is.

you love him.

the words are right at the tip of your tongue.

“…screw you.” you huff, feeling embarrassed.

you love him.

caleb pulls away just the slightest bit, the corner of his lip lifting into a lazy grin. “maybe in the future, yeah.”

maybe…

“caleb xia!” you hiss, releasing a hand from its tight grip on the counter to smack his arm. “what is wrong with you?”

“a lot of things,” he sighs, resting his forehead on your own. “but you know how to deal with that.”

maybe he loves you, too. maybe he loved you all along.

“shut up.”

his grin is now soft against your lips. “whatever you say, pipsqueak.”

you freeze.

pipsqueak.

and just like that his touch is gone and he’s already a good distance away from you, almost as if you burnt him. tears prickle at your eyes, and they want to fall down your cheek. you will yourself to not cry, to not let him ever have the right to see you cry. he only stares at you with horror swimming in his purple irises.

caleb fucking xia was thinking about her while kissing you.

pipsqueak.

pipsqueak.

her.

her.

HER.

it's always her.

never you.

the warmth he showed you was never truly for you. was he projecting his desires on you all this time? in his mind, was he seeing her in you?

dang it.

how could you do this to yourself? how could you forget?

he will never be yours.

“i—”

“this never happened,” you say, harshly wiping away the stray tear that managed to fall. your voice is wobbly, but you try to remain calm as you twist around and stare down at the stupid apple pie.

“y/n—”

you hate him.

you hate him.

you hate yourself.

“it’s late,” you mumble. “i have to wake up early for my trip to verona… you should go now.”

you know that caleb has been distant since then, feigning that everything is alright in front of mc when you returned a week before the start of the new school year.

now look at where you are.

the necklace that hangs around your neck is heavy and cold to the touch.

“what’s that?”

“hm?” you look down at what he’s eyeing. “oh. cal gave this to me.” you lift it with a finger.

“…caleb gave that to you?” he asks.

“uh-huh.”

he pinches his brows together. “you wear that despite how he’s acting towards you?”

you shrug, though you don't look at him. “he still—”

cares? he still what? what are you trying to say? who are you even trying to fool: zayne or yourself?

zayne says your name, his voice low. “you put far more effort into this friendship than he does. it should be the same.”

you tense up. zayne is right; you put too much effort into a friendship that won't last much longer, the fire that once burned so brightly in the beginning now dying. it’s only a matter of time before embers are all that is left.

but caleb is the sun to you, and you’re like the moon. so close yet so far, forced to only see and feel it for a brief amount of time. has your time run out with the sun? are you going back to the shadow of the earth?

and to caleb, she is like the sun. he is mercury, the closest planet to it. a planet that yearns to get closer to her even when he is right there, willing to be consumed by the sun’s fire.

“have you thought about what the principal said?”

before the winter break started, the principal of your school asked you if you’d like to skip grades. much like zayne, you were far smarter than the kids in school. according to the principal, you could graduate early like your best friend.

the front door bell rings, echoing in the silent house. you get off the bed, mumbling, “i’ll be right back.”

you head down the stairs and open the door, blinking in surprise at the girl.

“we’re back!” she grins, and holds a bag in her hands up to her eyes. “i come bearing gifts!"

“you must be freezing,” you step to the side and let her in as she laughs.

“i am! it’s pretty cold outside.” the girl slips a glove off one of her hands, pressing it against your cheek. she giggles when you flinch at her cold skin.

weird. zayne was so warm even after standing outside for who knows how long before you let him in.

she takes a step inside and slightly bounces on her feet. “i won’t take long! gran is almost done with dinner.” she quickly takes off her other glove.

“did you just come back?” you ask, closing the door.

“an hour ago!” the girl says. “i wanted to play in the park first since it's snowing, you know! caleb got too tired afterwards so he went back inside to take a nap.”

“oh.”

she doesn't seem to notice the disappointment in your voice, instead opening the bag. she takes out a box, a snow globe inside. the crystal ball holds a close replica to the night sky, and when you shake it, white specks fly. “i had it custom made! i remember that you said you liked winter and the sky when it’s nighttime because the deepspace tunnel isn't noticeable.”

“you remember?”

“of course, i do! you know, i asked caleb for advice on what to get you. he said something small would be fine, but i wanted to make it really special for you. for you two being best friends and all, he has terrible memory when it comes to what you like!” she huffs through her nose, shaking her head. “he was so surprised when i decided on a snow globe and told the old man how i’d like it to look.”

he forgot about what you like while you remember every single little detail about him. of course, he doesn't remember.

you aren't her.

“there’s a little switch at the bottom that lights the bottom up. i asked the old man if he could make the base like one of those nightlights that cast different shapes on the walls, and…” with a pause, she grabs your hands and continues, “i really hope you like it.”

you put the snow globe gently down on the nearest surface, and take hold of the girl’s hands, squeezing them. “i love it. thank you so much, mc.”

she lets out a sigh of relief, squeezing your hands back. “i’m so glad! really, i’m so happy you like it. i wanted to show you my gratitude for not treating me differently since the incident.”

“anyone could tell that you didn't like being treated like you were a frail flower.”

“caleb didn’t.”

you’re about to say something when a glint catches your eye. you look down and see a silver chain around her neck. “what’s that?” you ask.

the girl beams and takes out a necklace that was neatly tucked inside her shirt.

your heart sinks to the floor and shatters.

“isn’t it cute?” she holds the chain out, a small, silver sun hanging from it. the purple gem in the middle glimmers in the lighting of the living room. “i found this hidden in caleb’s things and he gave it to me, said he was planning on giving it to me because he said i’m like the sun.”

you’re a blind fool.

you were so blind to that fact that you’re a moth and caleb’s a flame. you got too close to the fire and now you’re left in pain.

the worse part is that you knew—you knew, and yet you still decided to get close, to delude yourself into believing that there was more to what meets the eye.

you actually accept the truth you didn’t want to: caleb can never and will never be yours.

it’s time for the sun to set in your sky.

you never imagined to experience your first and last winter break of high school when you’re fourteen. you always imagined that you’d be eighteen alongside caleb, that you’d graduate together after four years of rivalry for the valedictorian spot of your graduating class. you thought that you’d get to see him tryout for the basketball team and watch him make it, that you’d cheer him on during his games and even go to the ones at different schools. maybe you’d find a sport that you liked and try out for the team, and caleb would be there every step of the way because you know he’d say something stupid along the lines of him claiming to be your hype man. on exam weeks, you imagined that he’d somehow find a way for you to help him study and then you’d barely review a single thing because caleb would drag you to the park to hangout instead. you thought that you’d see each other apply to the academy and watch each other getting in.

your first and last year of high school couldn’t have been more different.

your goals are to reach the sky, to move to skyhaven and attend the aerospace academy, to get into the DAA afterwards and work alongside your dad in his fleet. you and caleb used to walk on the same path, yet now you walk it alone. you study alone, you work alone, you persevere alone.

caleb doesn't.

he studies with friends because she tells you about it whenever she texts you, or sometimes you happen to pass by the library and see him inside with a group of people. he works with friends, and you see it firsthand when you hurry past the gym and happen to catch a glimpse of him and group of people together. he perseveres with friends because she tells you about how caleb is always doing a group project with his classmates.

he isn’t alone.

even now during winter, you see him head out almost everyday. she tells you that sometimes it's because he’s hanging out with friends, other times he tells her it's a secret. if it's a secret, then he's probably planning a surprise for her.

and you’re proven right when you decide to scroll down the moments page, your finger hovering over a picture she had uploaded. it’s slightly blurry, but you can tell that she holds a necklace to the camera with a bright grin, caleb’s lips matching hers from behind. the caption read: caleb got me a necklace for my birthday! and it’s a pretty thing—the chain is a vibrant gold, a beautiful charm in the form of a sun hanging from it with a pink gem at the venter. it is pretty, unlike the necklace he had gifted you. the silver chain has lost its color, now sporting random splotches of bronze, and the beads have scratches on them, the color chipping off little by little.

it is a replacement; or rather, it is meant to finally get rid of the one you gifted him that he gave to her. maybe he thought it was a bothersome stain that he desperately wanted to get rid of, to finally be free of his last attachment to you.

you click on caleb’s profile and block him.

you need to uproot the already grown plant in your heart, you need to yank it and toss it out.

“earth to little star~”

little star, a nickname your dad gave you shortly after you were born. you asked him why he calls you that one time, and he told you that it’s because you likes to think you’re one of the stars he sees in the sky when he’s far from home.

you look up to find your dad standing over you, smiling.

“you were so focused you didn’t even hear me knock on your door,” he says, sitting down next to you on your bed. “what's troubling you?” his lips curl upwards into a mischievous smile. “are you sulking because zayne hasn't texted you yet?”

and just like that, caleb no longer haunts your mind—the sadness, however, clings to you. that won't leave.

you purse your lips and huff. “i do not sulk while i wait for him to respond to my texts.”

you want to tell your dad that you sulk because you prefer talking to zayne in person. you miss seeing him in front of you. but you won't tell him; you know that he’ll tease you and then tell your mom and then she’ll tell zayne’s mom and then zayne will know.

your dad cocks an eyebrow at you. “are you sure about that?”

“yes.”

“uh-huh,” he slowly says, “whatever you say then.”

you fall backwards onto your bed and squint your eyes at the older man. your dad doesn’t have his uniform on; instead, he wears his pjs. it makes you realize that you almost never see him this… free. he doesn’t wear what ties him down to the fleet. and yet… something is plaguing his mind, weighing down on his shoulders so that it slumps.

“something on your mind?” you ask.

he slowly smiles, his middle and index finger pinching your nose softly. “what would you say if i decided to retire from the fleet?”

you shoot up, eyes wide. “what?”

your dad sighs, his smile still there. “well, i’ve been thinking a lot. my little star is fourteen and she’s set to graduate this may. you’re growing up so fast, and i haven’t been there. shouldn’t it be time that i stay home to watch you keep growing?”

“…is that what you want?” you finally say. you tilt your head to the side and eye your dad, gauging his expression.

he looks content.

“yeah,” he breathes out, slow and steady. “that’s what i want.”

your dad’s shoulders are relaxed, and you think that like him, you’d like to watch him grow older with your mom.

it’s a shame that doesn't happen.

previous | masterlist | next

taglist (open). @ellieevu @ryusjwks @llamabois @kazbrkker @1ncpst @babythotbox @angelwhizpers @miffysoo @justpassingdontworry @syubseokie @pirana10 @loreleis-world @babythotbox @glitterykingdomangel @lemonwithstupidity @mihanisms @jetterdonna @orianakira @perqbeth @moonlight-inthe-sea

[bittencider]

RIDE LIKE A PONY

summ. who would've thought you were going to get railed by the star athlete of the hockey team...before his game.

pairing. Caleb x f!reader cw. hockey player!Caleb, p in v, he's sensitive, dirty talk, kissing, semi public, wearing his jersey during sex, 1.3k wc a/n. hi guys i gave in and i'm starting a caleb series...starting off with a boom!

“Is this your way of wishing me luck, pipsqueak?” Caleb chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist, sinking himself in the unexpected hug he received from you.

He still hasn't gotten changed in his uniform, and here you were, hugging on him for dear life as if he was going to die once he leaves the changing rooms. A few moments of silence pass and Caleb pulls away, looking down at your flushed face, probably caused by the cold temperature in the room.

He brought his hand to the sides of your cold skin and held onto you for a few moments as he stared into your eyes and then pulled himself away from you, heading over to his bag to grab his gear and clothes.

You stood still, watched his every move as he started stripping himself and started getting changed into his gear.

“Do you have practice today?” Caleb asked, sliding his shirt off and grabbed onto another one. You shook your head and sat on the bench across from him, eyes still locked on his figure as each piece started to stick to his body, one by one, he was already almost done getting changed.

“Just the jersey and pants left.” he mumbled to himself, digging his hands in his bag as he searched for his desired items.

“I’ll help.” you say, getting up from the bench and strutting towards Caleb, shoving him aside and dug your hands in his bag to find the things he was looking for. After a few minutes of searching you found the jersey and pants and pulled them out, waving it in front of his face.

“Thanks pip- huh?” Before Caleb could grab the stuff from your hands you pulled your hand back, a small smirk resting on your lips as you watched Caleb's reaction twist from confusion to amusement.

“Oh? Wanna help me put it on then?” Caleb pushed aside his bag and sat on the bench, spreading his legs and arms apart, indicating that you have the will to put his uniform on, but that wasn't what you wanted.

“Give me a kiss then I'll give your stuff back, deal?”

“If that’s all you wanted then you could have asked sooner.” Caleb teased, lifting himself off the bench and walked towards you. Once you were just mere inches away he slid his arms around you and lightly picked you off the ground, walking back to the bench and placed you there.

“Just a kiss, alright?” he whispered, his hot breath ghosts over your cold skin as his eyes stared down at you, waiting for approval. You nod and not even a second passed and he already had his lips planted on yours.

Caleb was practically devouring you, why? Because you wore his favorite lip balm that always sends him to a spiral when he kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him even closer so he could savour more, there was no backing out now that he had a taste.

“Hey..” he muttered between the kiss, pulling away for a second to just dive back on you again. Caleb's tongue seeked for entrance and when you gave it to him, his hands reached the sides of your face, pulling you closer than ever.

His tongue intertwined with yours, and he couldn't pull away. He knew this would happen, and as much as Caleb tried controlling himself, he couldn't. He felt like a glass cup that shattered the second it drops on the ground.

“You did this on…ngh…purpose, didnt you?” he breathed, pulling away staring at your flushed face beneath him. You gave him a quick nod, the corner of your lips were playing a slight smirk that couldn't be held back anymore.

Caleb groaned, looking around the changing room before he picked you up, and placed you on his lap. Your eyes widened and instinctively, you started grinding your hips against his. Low whimpers filled the room, Caleb held onto you with a tight grip as he watched you ride yourself against him.

“That's itt, roll your hips ju-just like that…” he whimpered, bucking his hips the slightest to indicate to you to go quicker. You obey his silent orders and continue driving yourself against him, feeling his warm fabric make contact with your bare thighs.

“More caleb..” you whisper, grabbing onto his shoulders, pulling yourself closer. Caleb nodded and slid his fingers under the waistband of your skirt, toying with it before pulling them off, and also removing your other clothes in the process. A low whistle left his lips the moment you were left in nothing except your panties and bra.

“Is it cold?” he teased, bringing one of his hands to his pants and slowly sliding them off, revealing his aching, dripping cock.

You shook your head, well it was a complete lie, ‘cause the room was freezing but you couldn’t tell Caleb that so you just stayed quiet until he notices.

“Yeah? Alriightt” Caleb purrs and with his free hand he pushes you closer to his cock, and soon slides his hand down your body playing with your waistband of your panties before pulling them down.

“Don't make a mess, pips.”

You rolled your eyes and then felt his dripping tip make contact with your cunt, a quiet moan escaped your lips and you kept your eyes shut as Caleb continued to slowly push himself more and more inside you.

The comfort of his hand ghosting on your waist suddenly disappeared and that's when you realised he was reaching for the jersey that was still clenched between your fingers. In a swift movement he grabbed on the jersey and slid it on your body.

With the jersey on and half his length shoved deep inside you, you stare at Caleb in disbelief. His fingers soon found their way back to your waist and he pushed you up and down, up and down, keeping the rhythm at a slow pace.

“I knew you were cold,” he chuckled, rubbing one of his hands up and down, letting the friction of his jersey rub against your skin to make you feel a little warmed up. You put your head down, letting the sides of your hair cover your flushed face and gripped onto his shoulder tighter, as the pace started to get quicker.

“Let me see..mmh you.” Caleb asked, wrapping his hand on the back of your neck, prying your head to look at him but you shook your head and continued to keep your head down.

You eventually found control in the situation and rode yourself against him. Caleb chuckled and slid his fingers away from your head and sat back as he watched you pleasure yourself on his cock. Moans filled the secluded, echoey room. Both you and Caleb were in a daze, and god, it felt good.

“Hey.. Let me see you–urgh fuck yourself in my jersey,” he moaned, brushing his thumb against your lips and soon, you gave in, and slowly lifted your head up, looking directly into Caleb’s violet eyes.

Your vision was blurry, probably caused by the pleasure rushing through you. Caleb’s face looked like a fever dream, twisted and yet, still so beautiful. Your hips started to get tired and Caleb grabbed onto you again, thrusting you quicker and quicker.

He was hitting, Every. Right. Spot. Which was making you closer and closer to release, you wrap your arms around him and arch your back, feeling him against you as you chanted your release.

“Let it out.” he whimpered, thrusting you one more time before you unexpectedly came all over his cock, a sigh of relief escaped both yours and Caleb's lips, he panted against your shoulder and held onto you for a few moments.

“Caleb, your game?”

“It should be starting in a few minutes but my jersey is now messed up.” he frowned, skimming his fingers down his jersey you were wearing.

“Just wear it.” you mumble, taking it off and throwing it at his face before hopping off his lap and putting your clothes back on.

Caleb chuckled and eventually got changed, getting up and putting the final parts of his gear on. Once he finished changing he walked towards you, ruffled your hair, and gave you a kiss on your head.

“Wish me luck.”

“I will.”

part 1 of fly into your heart | caleb -> next work

[bittencider]

PAIRINGS. . . caleb x reader

CW . . idk domestic calebmc bc im running out of ideas pls send reqs (˶˃⤙˂˶)

the clock on the wall read 3:47 AM. the house was quiet, the world outside blanketed in peaceful stillness. but here you were, standing in the dimly lit kitchen, wearing nothing but one of calebs’s oversized shirts, spooning nutella straight from the jar like a criminal.

you had been as silent as possible—at least, you thought you were—until a deep, sleepy voice suddenly broke the silence.

“…babe?”

you nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see caleb standing in the doorway, hair a mess, eyes heavy with sleep. he was shirtless, just wearing a pair of loose gray sweats that hung low on his hips. he blinked at you, taking in the scene—the jar of nutella in your hand, the spoon halfway to your mouth, the guilty look on your face.

“what… are you doing?” he asked, voice raspy from sleep.

you quickly shoved the spoon into your mouth, mumbling through the chocolate, “nothing.”

caleb narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “nothing,” he stopped in front of you, leaning down slightly so his nose was almost touching yours. “did my baby get midnight cravings?”

you nodded sheepishly, licking your lips. “i was trying not to wake you…”

caleb hummed, tilting his head. “cute,” he murmured before swiftly plucking the jar from your hands.

“hey!” you whined as he grabbed the spoon from your hand and took a huge scoop.

he grinned cheekily. “mmm. so sweet.”

you pouted. “it’s my snack.”

caleb only chuckled as he leaned against you. his body was so warm, so solid, and the way he nuzzled his nose into your hair made you melt instantly.

he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. then another to your nose. then one to your lips—slow and sweet, the taste of chocolate lingering between you.

when he pulled away, he smirked. “mh. nutella’s good, but you taste better.”

you groaned, shoving him lightly. “caleb!”

he only laughed, setting the spoon and nutella jar down and hoisting you up onto the counter effortlessly. “since we’re already up… should we make pancakes?”

your eyes lit up. “with strawberries?”

“and whipped cream,” he added.

you grinned. “deal.”

masterlist ⋆˚꩜ send me a kofi !

[bittencider]

𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you said you were happy with your boyfriend ,then caleb came home, and now his mouth is on your neck. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 –  NSFW (18+!!) dirty...nasty!!! RAW!! smut!!!, smut w/ alcohol (dubcon), reader cheating on bf w/ LI, caleb is the other man, swearing, mature languages, sexual themes, riding, creampie,raw doggy blah blah, p to v, internal conflict from reader 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 – not proofread. THIS HAS EXHAUSTED ME. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1 POST BUT TUMBLR HATES ME. ENJOY THIS PURE SMUT CHAPTER. ITS FILTHY. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 2 of idk ! previous chapter / next chapter — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

you unlock the front door with one hand, your work bag sliding off your shoulder as you step into the apartment. the lights are low—too low. it’s quiet. unusually quiet.

you frown, closing the door behind you. “adrien?”

no answer.

you toe off your shoes, drop your keys into the tray by the door. the living room is dark except for the faint flicker of candlelight—just a few, scattered along the edge of the table, casting gold shadows up the wall.

your pulse stirs uneasily. “hello?”

and then—

“surprise!”

the lights flick on all at once, flooding the room in warm brightness. a chorus of voices greets you—familiar, loud, laughing. confetti bursts from somewhere near the kitchen. m.c. is already walking toward you, glass in hand, eyes glittering with mischief.

you freeze.

adrien’s behind her, beaming. “you didn’t think we’d let your mood go unchecked forever, did you?”

nero lifts a drink in your direction. “you’re officially too hot and too successful to be sad.”

tara’s already shoving a sparkly cocktail into your hand. “drink first, process later.”

m.c. pulls you into a hug before you can even reply. “we love you. you don’t have to be okay all the time. just… be here with us tonight, yeah?”

your chest tightens, too full to speak.

adrien’s at your side next, one hand at the small of your back, steady, warm. “you deserve something good,” he murmurs against your ear. “and if it has to be flaming alcohol and obnoxious friends—so be it.”

you manage a breathless smile, looking around the room at the faces that have never left you. the table is piled with food. the playlist is perfect. candles line the corners like constellations.

and then, from the kitchen— you see him. caleb.

leaning against the counter with a glass in hand, that same quiet posture, dressed in black, eyes already on you.

your breath catches. adrien leans in again, oblivious. “and we even got your favorite drink. imported.”

you blink slowly. flamefruit. you don’t even like this shit.

it burns going down, but it’s sweet after. you don’t say a word. you just step into the party.

and pretend your world hasn’t tilted just a little further off its axis.

.

the night unravels in a blur of glittering glasses and warm laughter. someone plays music too loud. someone opens the flamefruit and starts to drink it with no chasers. nero starts an impromptu drinking game that ends with m.c. and tara collapsed on the couch, wheezing laughter into the same throw pillow. xavier serenades the hallway mirror.

adrien’s glowing—arm around you, beaming, flushed with joy and wine. he’s so happy, so in love, and for a while, you let yourself drift in it.

until you’re not sure how you ended up here.

the house is quieter now, softer around the edges. your hand’s still wrapped around a half-empty glass, fingers a little clumsy. the hall light is off, but the door to adrien’s study is cracked open, the faint blue glow of one of his digital screens still pulsing gently inside.

you don’t mean to walk in.

you just… drift.

the door creaks a little as you push it open.

and there it is.

his desk.

clean, meticulous. dark wood polished smooth. the faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air—cedar and something more expensive beneath. his tablet is powered down, his stylus perfectly aligned. everything where it should be. orderly. safe.

you stare at it.

tipsy and slow, heart pounding harder than it should.

this is where he works. where he plans the future you’re supposed to build together. where he makes decisions about cities, people, the empire of his name—and you.

this is where he probably looked up engagement rings.

you lower your glass onto the edge of the desk.

and for a long moment, you just stand there.

like you’re waiting for something to make sense.

behind you, a soft shuffle. then a familiar voice, low and wrecked with restraint.

“you shouldn’t be in here.”

you turn.

caleb is leaning in the doorway, shirt half-untucked, eyes glassy but still clear enough to pin you in place.

he steps inside, slow. controlled.

but you can feel it—how close the edge really is.

his eyes flick to the glass you left on the desk, then back to you. he shuts the door behind him without a sound.

“funny,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with smoke and wine. “of all the rooms in this perfect little house… you ended up in his.”

you swallow.

he walks toward you, slow and deliberate, every movement soaked in intention. not touching—but close enough that your breath trembles.

“you staring at his chair for a reason?” he asks, one brow lifted, eyes never leaving yours. “planning your future in his office? wondering how it feels to sit in the middle of all that power?”

you don’t answer.

you can’t.

he leans just slightly, one hand bracing on the edge of the desk beside you. his voice drops further. “or maybe you came in here looking for something you weren’t ready to admit.”

his gaze drags down—over your mouth, your throat, the way your hands are clenched into the fabric of your dress. “you’re flushed.”

“flamefruit,” you manage.

he smirks. “sure.”

you can feel the heat rolling off him, the quiet weight of his want simmering just beneath the surface. he brings his mouth close—not touching—but you can feel the shape of his words against your skin.

“you know what the worst part is?” he says, soft and dangerous. “i’ve been good. so good. standing across from you all night pretending i don’t remember what you sound like when you moan.”

your breath stutters. your fingers tighten on the desk behind you.

“but i do,” he says. “and you do too. don’t you?”

he’s so close you can smell him—warm skin and faint sweat and the ghost of something expensive and sharp.

he shifts, gaze catching on the edge of your lip, the column of your throat. “he built this room for control,” he murmurs. “and here you are—shaking in it.”

he shifts behind you, the room warm with breath and liquor and history. the desk presses into your hips, polished wood slick under your palms. his chest is at your back now, broad and solid, his body boxing you in like you were meant to belong here—like he was.

you don’t remember when he touched you.

hes got you bent over the desk your boyfriend so religiously used as his safe haven of when he’d cower against his many business modules. his fingers digging into your side— his breathing tickling your ear like music unable to dissipate from your heart. his other hand caressing the slip of your skirt as he pulls you closer with his manipulation.

“tell me to stop.” a pause

caleb’s hand slides down, caressing the hem of your skirt. dragging it higher this time, pulling you closer with a kind of practiced cruelty that makes your chest squeeze and your knees shake.

his lips barely graze your ear. his voice breaks the silence like a blade sheathed in silk.

“tell me to stop.”

again.

his fingers don’t wait long.

they slip under the hem of your skirt, slow at first, teasing the edge of your thigh like he’s testing just how far you’ll let him go. his breath stays hot at your ear, but his mouth doesn’t move now—he’s waiting. watching.

you should say something.

his hand traces upward, palm dragging across your skin until his fingers find the edge of your panties. they rest there for half a second, still—like he’s giving you one final chance to pull away.

you don’t move.

and so he continues.

his fingertips slide under the delicate fabric, brushing soft and purposeful. a quiet, devastating stroke that makes your whole body lock against the desk, your moan veiled in secrecy. you felt his fingers go in between your folds, suddenly so slick and coated.  it’s not rushed. it’s not rough. it’s just intentional—every movement designed to make you feel like you’re unraveling one nerve at a time.

his other hand stays firm on your waist, fingers curled tight into your side like he’s anchoring himself to the moment, or maybe to you. your breath stutters—sharp and trembling—and he exhales low, almost a growl.

“you’re already soaked,” he mutters, voice rough now, mouth dragging along your temple. “and i haven’t even kissed you yet.”

he presses in closer, hips against the back of your skirt, hand still working slow, measured strokes. there’s no rush. no hesitation.

just him—and the way he’s studying your every reaction like a man starved.

his fingers never stop.

they move in slow, devastating circles beneath the fabric, dragging slick heat through your nerves until your breath is shaking and your hands are gripping the desk like it’s the only thing tethering you to this world.

then he shifts.

his palm flattens against your hip, fingers curling under the band of your panties—not just touching now, but claiming. he drags the fabric down with maddening slowness, inch by inch, until it slips past the swell of your thighs and falls loose around your knees.

his other hand moves with him—hooking into the hem of your skirt and sliding it higher, up over your hips, over the arch of your lower back, until you feel the cool air hit bare skin and realize—

you’re completely exposed to him— and he’s right there.

you feel him before you see him—dick hard and straining against the fabric of his pants, pressing against the curve of your ass like gravity’s pulling him toward you. not grinding. not rushing.

just there.

thick heat and tension and everything unsaid, resting at the very edge of control.

his breath comes harder now, his chest rising behind you, and the hand that had steadied your waist slips forward—bold and possessive, curling around your front, groping you with an ache that borders on reverence.

he leans down, lips brushing the curve of your shoulder.

“still want me to stop?” he whispers, rough and hungry.

your knees nearly give out.

you don’t answer him—not with words.

instead, your hips shift back, slow and intentional, pressing into the hard line of him behind you.

the sound he makes is low and guttural—half groan, half curse—and it hits you like a spark behind your ribs. his hand tightens on your waist. you feel him falter for the first time, breath catching as he presses in harder, the fabric of his pants rough against your skin.

his fingers fumble at his waistband, sharp and uncoordinated with urgency. you hear the soft drag of his zipper, the hitch in his breath as he frees himself—and then his body finds yours again, the heat of him suddenly there, bare, dragging across your skin. you didn’t have to see how big he was. his thickness laid on your bare ass cheek. 

he doesn’t push in though— not yet.

he shifts his hips, letting his tip glide over you in slow, devastating passes, teasing, testing—coaxing your body into submission without force.

his voice is gravel against your ear. “you’re not going to say it, huh?” his breath hits your neck, lips hovering. “you’re not going to tell me to stop.”

another slow roll of his hips, the pressure sending your breath spiraling.

“then i’m going to take what’s mine,” he murmurs. “slow. deep. until you remember who made you feel this way first.”

you clutch the desk tighter, legs trembling.

he grinds the head of himself along the ache of you again—so close now, so slow, and still not in.

his mouth finds the shell of your ear again. “you’re not leaving this room the same.”

your breath hitches—and then you move.

slow, deliberate, trembling with want.

you push your hips back into him, grinding against the thick weight of him until he slips past the edge, forcing him inside in one sudden, desperate motion.

he gasps—loud, raw—and his hands seize your hips like he’s about to lose his grip on reality. his body stiffens behind you, forehead dropping to your shoulder, a strained, broken sound escaping his throat.

“fuck—” he hisses, voice strained and wrecked.

you feel it—the way he fills you, the way your body welcomes him like it was always meant to. heat, stretch, pressure, home. it’s dizzying. dangerous. you were stunned by how fat his dick was. how thick it felt, how long it was. you grasped at air, gripping the desk for dear life.

his fingers dig into your skin as he tries to steady himself, tries to hold back.

“you—” his voice cracks. “you can’t just—do that.”

but he doesn’t move away, he sinks a little deeper instead.

his breath comes hot and heavy against your neck, jaw clenched, every inch of him trembling with restraint. “almost came just now,” he mutters, teeth grazing your skin. “fuck.”

you bite your lip to keep quiet, to keep still.

but he feels it—all of it.

“you’re going to ruin me,” he growls.

his hips twitch, his control slips, and everything spirals tighter.

his hands are still trembling. you can feel it—in the way he grips your hips, the way his fingers flex like he’s barely holding himself back from slamming into you, from giving in completely.

his breath is ragged against your neck, body trembling with the need to move.

but he waits. he pulls back—just an inch—then slides forward again, slower this time, letting you feel every deliberate, overwhelming inch of him as he buries himself deeper.

you gasp. and that sound—it shatters something in him.

his mouth finds the curve of your shoulder, voice rough and breathless.

“you belong to me.”

he thrusts again, deeper, harder. your knees buckle.

“say it,” he growls, voice sharp at the edges, like he’s not asking. “say it, or i’ll keep fucking you like this until you do.”

your head spins. his rhythm builds—steady, consuming, every thrust dragging a broken sound from your throat.

he grips your waist tighter, pulling you back into him like he can’t get close enough, like the desk between you and the world is the only thing keeping this from setting the room on fire.

“look at you,” he breathes. “being a mess for me already.”

his hand moves, sliding down between your thighs, his touch precise, ruthless, loving. your body jerks.

“you’re so good—” he groans, teeth gritting. “so good taking my dick so easily. like your body was made for me.”

your name breaks off his tongue like a prayer and a curse in one. he leans in closer, one hand tangled in your hair, voice dropping to a snarl.

“he can’t fuck you like i can. you know that. you feel that.”

your nails dig into the wood. he moves faster now, chasing the edge you’re both hurtling toward.

but even through the pleasure—every broken breath, every soaked heartbeat—you feel the weight of something else beneath it.

not just lust, claim, history. and the fear that maybe this has never stopped being love.

you don’t mean to say it.

but it slips out—cracked, breathless, soaked in surrender.

“caleb…”

his name breaks from your lips like it’s always been meant for him—like you’ve spent years holding it back, and now it rushes out too fast, too full.

and it snaps something in him.

he growls—deep and low in his chest—before pulling out suddenly and grabbing your waist with both hands. you gasp, too stunned to move, but he’s already turning you, spinning you to face him.

your back hits the desk with a thud, papers scattering, your breath catching in your throat. he shoves everything aside—your glass, a stylus, notes you never read—and lifts you onto the edge like you weigh nothing.

“wrap your legs around me,” he orders, voice wrecked.

you do it without thinking, locking your ankles behind his back as he yanks your hips flush to his.

he’s bare, flushed, violet pupils blown wide with need—but even through the haze of desire, there’s something fierce, almost angry in his expression.

he thrusts into you again, deeper this time—deliberate, unforgiving.

you cry out—his name again, half-formed.

his hand curls under your chin, forcing your gaze up, holding your face steady with startling tenderness.

“you’re going to look at me when you cum for me,” he growls. “no more hiding. no more pretending.”

his hips drive into you hard, and your body responds without permission—arching, clinging, unraveling.

“say my name again,” he demands, panting his hands gripping your face steadily, but still lovingly— gently, “i want to hear you fall apart on it.”

you try to hold on. but you can’t. you cry out his name. because it’s him. and, you’ve always belonged to him.

he leans in, chest flush to yours, catching your mouth in a kiss that’s all tongue and breath and hunger. it’s messy—raw, unrestrained—his lips crashing against yours as he moves inside you, relentless, each thrust harder than the last.

the desk groans beneath the force of it—wood scraping slightly across the floor, your spine arched back, legs wrapped tighter around him just to keep from sliding off. your arms tangle around his neck, holding him there, holding yourself together.

his mouth drags down your jaw, to your throat, to the hollow beneath your ear. each word is a shudder, a growl, a confession you were never supposed to hear.

“you feel so fucking good,” he pants with each thrust, “tight around me—perfect.”

your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails scraping over fabric, skin, anything to hold onto.

“i should’ve never let anyone else touch you,” he whispers, breath hot and broken. “this—this is mine. you’re mine.”

his hips slam forward again and again, dragging you closer to the edge. the wet sound of your bodies moving, the ragged slap of skin on skin, fills the room.

“you like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, filthy and soft at your ear. “being ruined in his office. bent over his desk while i make you fall apart.”

you whimper, his name escaping again, and he swallows it in a kiss.

“i want to fill you up,” he groans, losing rhythm for a second as he pulses deep inside. “want you dripping with me—full of me—so you remember every time you look at him who you let inside you first.”

your body trembles—so close, so close—

and caleb feels it. he knows.

“you’re gonna cum for me, baby,” he rasps, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re gonna look me in the eyes and fucking break.”

he feels the way your body’s tightening around him—trembling, too close to hold on. your legs clench tighter around his waist, breath ragged against his neck.

but caleb isn’t done with you—not even close.

he breaks the kiss, breath wrecked, and growls, “legs up.”

you barely have time to react before he unhooks your ankles from behind him, lifting your thighs with both hands, folding your knees up toward your chest. he shifts his grip again—one arm looping beneath your thighs, the other bracing you steady—and with a sharp inhale, he pushes your legs up, resting them over his shoulders.

the new angle hits deeper—sharper. you cry out, a soft, helpless mewl slipping from your mouth before you can even think.

he grins—wild, wrecked, proud. “that’s the sound i wanted.”

his thrusts grow sharper, precise—his hips rolling just right, his movements aimed perfectly at that one spot that makes your vision blur.

“this what you like?” he rasps, teeth gritted, sweat beading at his brow. “right there, huh?”

you nod frantically, your hands clawing for the edge of the desk again, hips jerking up to meet him, but he presses you down.

literally.

his palm slides to your lower abdomen, applying steady, firm pressure—just enough to intensify every thrust, every ripple of sensation spreading through your core.

your moan shatters into fragments, your whole body arching off the desk.

he leans forward—folding you tighter, his chest pressing your knees nearly to your chest, eyes locked on your wrecked expression.

“look at you,” he growls. “moaning  like you were made for me.”

he thrusts harder, the desk creaking beneath the strain, your name falling from his lips like it’s sacred.

“gonna keep fucking you like this—until you scream.”

and god, you’re close.. so close, and he knows it—and he’s not letting up. not until you break.

you can’t breathe—can’t think.

your body’s a live wire under his hands—hips pinned, legs trembling where they’re draped over his shoulders, the pressure of his palm pressing down on your lower belly keeping every thrust deep, hard, devastating.

your voice breaks into choked whimpers, high and helpless. he groans, hips stuttering. “you’re so fucking tight—so perfect—”

your hands reach for him, any part of him—his arm, his chest, his name tumbling from your lips in gasps.

and then it hits. you clamp around him, the wave crashing over your body with dizzying force, your thighs shaking, a sharp cry leaving your mouth before you can bite it back.

caleb curses—his grip tightening, a deep moan ripped from his chest as your walls pull him deeper, tighter, desperate.

“fuckfuck, baby—” his pace falls apart as he drives in one last time, buried to the hilt, his hips grinding against yours as he spills into you with a guttural, broken sound.

his whole body shudders. he holds you through it—still inside, still pressed deep, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as you tremble in his arms.

your breathing is sharp. ragged.

his lips ghost your cheek, your jaw, your temple.

he doesn’t say anything.

you both stay like that—tangled, breathless, pressed together like gravity won’t let you go.

his forehead rests against yours, still panting. your hands are curled against his chest, his heartbeat racing beneath your palm. you can feel every twitch of him inside you, every aftershock still rippling through your limbs.

the room is too quiet now. too still.

and yet, neither of you moves.

his hand strokes your thigh absently, almost without thinking, like he’s trying to memorize the way your skin feels beneath his fingertips. his eyes are still closed, his face close enough that you can see the lashes trembling slightly.

“fuck,” he breathes, like the air finally found him again. “i’ve wanted that for so long.”

you don’t answer.

you’re still trying to remember how to breathe.

he finally pulls back just enough to look at you—his expression soft, unreadable. not proud. not smug. just full.

then he slides out of you, slow and careful, and you both wince at the loss.

you shift on the desk, dizzy and sore, the weight of what just happened settling in your bones.

his cum is already starting to drip down your thigh.

you reach for the edge of the desk to steady yourself, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

he grabs a tissue from adrien’s desk drawer, silent, gentle, like the spell hasn’t broken yet—but the guilt is creeping under your skin, cold and steady.

you try to speak. fail.

he beats you to it.

“i shouldn’t have let it go that far,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “but god… i don’t regret it.”

you stare at the floor.

he reaches for your face, thumb brushing your jaw. “i know what this means. i know what we just did.”

you shake your head, voice thin. “i don’t know what to do.”

he leans closer, his voice rough and raw. “you don’t have to decide tonight.”

and you believe him. but when he kisses you—slow, tender—you taste everything that might still ruin you and for once you felt like this was right.

by the time you both manage to stand, everything feels too quiet.

your legs are unsteady, your heart still hammering with something that isn’t quite fear but sits awfully close to it.

caleb’s already moving—methodical, focused. he helps you off the desk, steady hands at your waist, his eyes meeting yours only briefly before he turns and starts fixing the room.

no words.

just motion.

you smooth your skirt back down, tug your blouse into place, fingers trembling slightly as you reach for your glass and wipe down the desk with a tissue—careful, thorough, like you can erase what just happened if you clean hard enough.

he buttons his shirt.

you both work in practiced silence.

within minutes, the study looks untouched.

like sin was never written across its surface.

he gives you one last look—checking, steady—and opens the door.

the living room is dim.

music is still pulsing low from a speaker in the corner, looping the same half-finished playlist. soft, woozy synths floating above the mess. but no one stirs.

m.c. is curled on the couch, one leg hanging off the armrest, her drink tilted dangerously sideways on the floor.

xavier is face-down on the rug, half-wrapped in a throw blanket he must’ve pulled off someone else. tara is sitting upright in a chair, completely asleep, sunglasses still on.

adrien is nowhere to be seen.

your breath catches for a second—until you spot him curled on the balcony chaise under a throw, sleeping soundly, one arm over his chest.

they didn’t hear anything.

the music saw to that.

you and caleb exchange one look.

he moves first, walking to the couch and gently adjusting the blanket over m.c., then grabbing a few more from the closet. you follow, helping without speaking, draping warmth over your friends as your stomach twists with guilt and something crueler—longing.

when the last glass is cleared and the last body covered, you both stand in the quiet, hands brushing briefly over a folded blanket.

you don’t look at him.

and he doesn’t say your name.

but the silence says enough.

.

the sun creeps through the windows slowly, painting long golden lines across the floor. it’s quiet, soft—the kind of stillness that only comes after a night that’s gone too far.

you’re in the kitchen.

the smell of coffee fills the air, rich and bitter and grounding. bacon sizzles low in the pan. there’s a bowl of chopped fruit beside the stove, a pile of toast cooling on a plate, and two half-empty mugs tucked off to the side of the counter. the hum of the kettle clicks off in the background.

you’re barefoot. hair tied back. wearing one of adrien’s oversized shirts.

but it’s caleb beside you.

sleeves rolled. expression calm. slicing tomatoes with methodical precision, like his hands aren’t still remembering the feel of you from hours ago.

neither of you speaks at first.

not about that.

you just move around each other easily—reaching, passing, flipping, tasting. like you’ve done this a thousand times. like it doesn’t mean something different now.

he glances at you once, quietly, while you stir eggs in a skillet. his mouth quirks faintly.

“you’re a good cook,” he murmurs.

you don’t look up. “you say that every time.”

“and every time, i mean it.”

you feel the warmth of his eyes before you hear footsteps.

m.c.’s voice croaks from down the hall. “someone making bacon or am i dreaming again?”

“real bacon,” you call out.

“thank fuck,” she mumbles, disappearing into the bathroom.

soon, the others begin to stir. tara dragging her blanket into the kitchen like a cape. nero groaning against the hallway wall. xavier looking like he just rose from a battlefield. adrien appears last, cheeks creased from sleep, smile lazy and soft as he walks up behind you and kisses your cheek.

“you’re incredible,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “and you made coffee? i’m marrying you.”

you laugh. but your eyes flick—just for a second—to caleb. he’s watching.

expression unreadable. but you feel it again—that hum under your skin. the memory of being pinned to a desk, his mouth on your ear, the way he said you’re mine.

you flip the eggs. adrien pours mimosas. the kitchen fills with warmth and laughter.

and no one knows a single thing.

the day drifts on in slow, lazy waves—plates passed around, hangovers soothed with fresh juice and greasy food, sunlight stretching over the living room like a warm hand. the worst of the mess has been cleared, though a few cups still linger in odd corners. someone plays music low from their phone. there’s laughter, mumbled teasing, even a few half-hearted recaps of the night before.

you stay close to adrien, answering softly when he pulls you into the conversation. he kisses your temple between bites. calls you baby like it’s second nature.

and you smile. you smile through it all.

but when everyone starts gravitating outside—m.c. corralling the group toward the backyard garden, tara demanding to feel the sun on her “hungover soul”—you stay behind to rinse a few dishes in the sink.

the back door clicks softly behind them. and then you hear it.

footsteps. he doesn’t speak right away.

he just comes to stand beside you at the sink, close but not touching, the sound of water and wind the only thing between you.

you don’t look at him. not until his voice comes, soft and edged.

“you were going to come back to me last night.” you don’t answer.

his hand doesn’t touch yours—but his knuckles brush your wrist.

you inhale—shallow, “but you didn’t,” he says quietly. “you went back to him.”

you finally look up. his gaze is steady, searching. not angry, not pleading, just… full.

“did it mean nothing to you?” he asks.

your chest tightens. “it meant everything.”

his jaw flexes.

you glance toward the door. “we can’t do this again.”

his voice drops. “you’re right.”

but neither of you moves. neither of you steps back.

you just stand there, in the stillness of your shared silence, with your hands in a sink full of warm water, the smell of breakfast still clinging to the air, and the weight of your mistake sitting quietly between you like it never left.

but was it really a mistake? didn’t feel like it.

your breath stutters as his body crowds you in—slow, unassuming—until your back presses gently against the counter’s edge, the warm water dripping quietly behind you, forgotten.

his hands don’t touch you yet.

but his voice does.

“i can make you cum in five minutes.”

your eyes widen—your breath catches.

his mouth tips into something between a smirk and a promise.

you press a hand to his chest. “caleb—no. we can’t.”

his hand catches your wrist—not rough, just steady—and holds it there against him, like a reminder of what’s already happened. his heart thumps fast under your palm.

“they’re outside,” he says, voice like silk dragged through embers. “they won’t hear a thing.”

you shake your head, pulse rushing in your ears. “we’re going to get caught. you want me moaning your name with adrien right there?”

his gaze darkens. “i absolutely do.”

you glare at him. “i’m serious.”

he leans in, mouth brushing your ear.

“so am i.”

his hand slides slowly to your hip, thumb dragging over the waistband of your shorts like he’s testing you. your body responds instantly—tense, flushed, already leaning into him like gravity’s doing the deciding for you.

“you think i can’t do it?” he murmurs. “five minutes. no one notices you’re gone.”

your breath shakes.

you glance at the door again, heart climbing into your throat. voices drift in from the garden—laughing, harmless.

he presses just a little closer. “you’re still wet for me. don’t pretend you’re not.”

your knees almost give out.

but your voice—small, trembling—still rises. “i can’t. not here. not again.”

he doesn’t wait for a reply, just walks to the back door, pauses for half a second, then slips outside with the rest of them—like nothing ever happened.

you stay frozen by the sink, heart thudding so loud you swear it might give you away.

.

the rest of the week slips by like nothing ever happened.

the apartment is clean. your schedule’s full. adrien brings you coffee every morning and kisses your forehead before he leaves for meetings. m.c. texts you memes. tara sends a video of xavier sleepwalking into the pantry. everything is fine.

it’s almost convincing.

except your phone won’t stop lighting up.

he waits until you’re at work, or just getting out of the shower. late at night when adrien is brushing his teeth. early in the morning, before you’ve had a chance to open your eyes properly.

it starts simple.

a message:

caleb: still thinking about the way you sounded on that desk.

then another:

caleb: wanna bet i could do it again? in less than five minutes this time?

and then the photos.

not filthy….not at first— just enough to ruin you.

a shot of his hand resting low on his abdomen, waistband of his joggers pulled just enough to show the line of muscle beneath. a mirror selfie, sweat-slick from training, shirt lifted and eyes locked on the camera like he’s daring you to respond.

you don’t….not always.

but sometimes… you stare too long.

.

it starts with the silence.

adrien’s been gone for three days—some urgent expansion deal in the outer prospects, a week of meetings, press, closed doors. he calls you when he can, always kind, always sweet. but the time zones are wide, and your bed is too big without him.

and your thoughts?

dangerous.

you try to distract yourself—wine, long baths, old telenovellas you used to love—but nothing dulls it. not the ache. not the tension. not the memory of being spread open across a desk with caleb whispering filth against your throat.

so you call him. not with a plan. not even with words.

just the need humming between your legs and his name sitting too heavy on your tongue.

he picks up on the second ring.

“i was wondering how long it’d take,” he says, voice thick, already low.

you don’t answer. just breathe. that’s all it takes.

“you alone?” he asks, soft, coaxing.

you nod, then remember. “yes.”

a pause, then, “want me to come over?”

you bite your lip. “no.”

his chuckle is quiet, warm, infuriating. “why not?”

“because,” you say, voice thin, “if you’re here, i won’t stop you.”

another pause, longer this time.

his voice drops into something rough, reverent. “then what do you want from me, baby?”

your breath trembles, “talk to me.”

he exhales, slow. “you touching yourself?”

you press your thighs together, pulse fluttering. “not yet.”

“good,” he murmurs. “because i want to tell you exactly how to do it.”

you close your eyes.

his voice fills your ear like silk over flame.

“you’re going to slide your hand down, real slow. just your fingertips. pretend it’s mine. you remember how it felt, don’t you?”

you nod, already falling under, his words wrap around you like heat, like a grip you never escaped in the first place.

and even though he’s not here—you feel like you’re his again.

“you remember how it felt, don’t you?”

his voice curls in your ear, velvet and heat.

you nod again, barely breathing, your other hand clutching the edge of the bed.

“yes.”

“tell me,” he says, low. commanding.

you swallow. “you were deep. i couldn’t think.”

he exhales, sharp and uneven, and you know exactly what kind of image that paints in his mind.

“good,” he says. “now lie back. open your legs for me.”

your body obeys before your voice can argue.

you slide down into the sheets, your bare thighs brushing the cool air, your fingers drifting slowly beneath your waistband—still unsure, still trembling.

“slow,” caleb murmurs. “pretend it’s my hand. my fingers.”

your breath catches as you touch yourself, soft and hesitant.

he hears it. groans, quiet and low.

“fuck, baby. that’s it. just like that.”

you close your eyes.

“are you wet for me already?” he asks, voice strained.

you nod. then remember, “yes.”

“yeah?” his voice shifts, darker now. “from just my voice?”

“yes—caleb.”

he groans your name back like it hurts him.

“rub yourself. slow circles. i want to hear what i do to you.”

you move, gently, following his rhythm. your breath stutters.

“that’s my good girl,” he whispers. “how fast are you moving?”

you gasp. “not fast. not—yet.”

“good. don’t rush. i want you aching.”

his voice stays steady even as his breathing picks up. you know he’s hard on the other end of the line, probably palming himself with the same patience he never showed when you were under him.

“picture me,” he says. “standing between your legs, mouth on your neck. my hands spreading you open.”

you whimper.

“you miss the way i fill you?” he growls.

“yes—”

“you want me to fuck you again?”

“caleb—” your voice breaks on it, thighs shaking.

“say it,” he demands.

“i want you to fuck me.”

“then you better cum for me first,” he hisses. “i want to hear it. i want you to fall apart with my name in your mouth.”

you gasp his name again, louder this time, as the edge creeps in fast.

he hears it. knows it.

“you’re close,” he breathes. “aren’t you?”

“yes—yes—”

“then let go. now. i’ve got you.”

you cry out—his name shattering off your lips—as the wave crests and crashes through you. your back arches. your hand trembles. everything pulses with that bright, sharp flood of release.

on the other end of the call, caleb groans—loud, raw, undone.

and then there’s silence.

heavy. intimate. both of you breathing.

you lie there, sheets tangled, sweat beading at your collarbone.

his voice returns, softer now.

“you still with me?”

“yeah,” you whisper.

“good.”

all of the sudden, you hear the line cut. your breath hitches, confusion seeping in.

you’re still catching your breath.

the sheets are twisted around your legs, your phone quiet now beside you, the screen gone dark. your fingers are trembling—still slick, still warm, still marked by his voice.

and then—

ding-dong.

you freeze.

your heart stutters in your chest.

the sound echoes through the apartment again, sharp and real.

you grab the edge of the bed, pull the sheets tight around your bare skin, breath caught somewhere between panic and disbelief.

your legs carry you to the door before your mind can catch up.

you check the cam.

your stomach flips.

it’s him.

he’s standing just outside the threshold, all dark clothes and darker eyes, hood up, head tilted like he knows exactly what he’s doing. like he’s not sorry.

you open the door a crack, voice thin. “caleb—what the hell are you doing?”

he looks at you, gaze steady. low and hungry.

“couldn’t help myself.”

“we already—” your voice falters. “the call—was enough.”

his eyes flick down your body, taking in the rumpled sheets draped around your figure. your skin still flushed. your thighs still trembling.

his voice is low, rough.

“you think i’m letting you finish without me?”

you grip the door, torn, heat rising again in your chest.

he leans in, close enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“open the door,” he murmurs. “or i’ll find another way in.”

your fingers loosen and the door swings wide.

the moment the door swings fully open, he steps inside—slow, unhurried, like he already owns the space. like he’s walked these floors in his mind a hundred times.

you take one step back—and that’s all he needs.

he grabs you by the waist, spinning you in one fluid motion until your back hits the wall with a soft thud. the sheets fall from your hands, forgotten, pooling at your feet. his body is on yours instantly, pressing you into the wall, mouth crashing down over yours.

it’s not a kiss. it’s claiming.

his hands roam everywhere at once—greedy, relentless—dragging over your waist, cupping your thighs, gripping your ass like he’s been dying to get his hands back on you.

you gasp against his mouth, and he drinks it in, biting down on your lower lip as he rolls his hips against you, slow and punishing. you’re already soaked again—he feels it, groans into your throat.

“you’re so fucking needy, i love it.” he growls, pulling back just enough to speak. “couldn’t even last a full week without falling apart for me.”

you don’t answer—can’t.

your head tilts back as his mouth moves down, teeth scraping against your collarbone, hands already pulling your legs up around his waist. he presses harder into you, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

“told you i’d finish the job.”

his hand slips between your thighs again, rough and certain, and you break against the wall—already breathless, already shaking.

and this time—you don’t even try to stop him.

your legs are already wrapped tight around his waist, his hands gripping your thighs with bruising force, and he’s already pushing his pants down just enough, lining himself up with a growl vibrating low in his chest.

“you’re dripping for me again,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “fuck, i didn’t even have to touch you.”

your only answer is a gasp—high and broken—when he thrusts into you in one hard, unrelenting motion.

the impact slams you back against the wall, your cry muffled by his mouth as he captures it in another bruising kiss.

his hips start a brutal rhythm—fast, deep, hungry—like he’s been starving for you since the moment he left. the slap of skin echoes in the hallway, raw and wet and reckless.

“this what you wanted?” he grits out. “me fucking you against his wall?”

your nails dig into his shoulders, your body helpless against the force of him. each thrust knocks the breath from your lungs. every word from his mouth cuts you wide open.

“say it,” he growls. “say you wanted this.”

you nod, sobbing out his name.

“louder.”

“yes—caleb—yes—”

his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so he can watch your face.

“you’re mine when you come like this,” he snarls, pace brutal. “say it.”

“i’m—i’m yours—”

he slams into you harder, teeth bared.

“that’s right.”

his hand slides between you again, thumb finding the spot that makes your whole body jolt.

your walls start to flutter. he knows it.

and he chases it.

“cum on me,” he growls, voice like thunder. “right now—show me you belong to me.”

and with a choked cry, you fall—legs shaking, body collapsing against him as everything breaks apart in waves.

he follows seconds later with a deep, guttural groan, hips driving in hard as he spills inside you, buried to the hilt, fingers clutching your thighs like you’re the only thing keeping him from losing control completely.

your breath is still hitching in your throat when he pulls back—just enough to look at you, eyes dark, mouth parted, chest rising like he’s trying to steady a storm still raging under his skin.

but he’s not done.

not even close.

his hands shift, one sliding beneath your thighs to lift you—strong and certain—while the other braces your lower back. you gasp, legs trembling around him, but he carries you easily through the living room, the sounds of your bodies still echoing in your ears.

the couch catches you softly, and he’s already on you again.

he pushes you forward—slow, firm—until your chest meets the cushions, the cool fabric grounding and jarring against your flushed skin. his hands roam your back, trailing down your spine like he’s drawing a line only he gets to cross.

his voice is low, wrecked.

“ass up.”

you shiver.

you move, obeying—arms braced on the couch, back arched, body already anticipating him again even through the haze of your first release.

he groans behind you, the sound raw and almost reverent.

“fuck, look at you.”

you can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his hands slide over your hips with a grip that says mine, the way he tilts your hips just right—like he knows exactly how to break you open all over again.

his mouth dips low, breath hot against the small of your back.

“you asked for this the second you called me,” he growls, low and thick with need. “and now i’m going to make sure you don’t forget who really owns this body.”

you barely manage a breath before he pulls you back into him—and everything spins again.

he moves behind you with a hunger that’s no longer masked by charm or restraint. his grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin like he’s marking you, grounding himself in the way your body curves perfectly for him.

he leans in, chest over your back, mouth dragging along your shoulder, breath hot and uneven.

“just like that,” he growls. “back arched, head down. fuck, you look perfect like this.”

your fingers curl into the cushions as your breath catches again—already burning, already building. his rhythm is relentless, sharp, and possessive. each motion drives heat higher through your core, your body responding like it never forgot this exact cadence—like it was made for his hands, his hips, his voice.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, low and ragged. “how deep i am? no one else makes you this tight. no one else gets you this wet.”

you whimper, face buried in the fabric, and he groans—deep and guttural—at the sound.

“you gonna cum for me again?” he asks, one hand sliding forward to grip your waist, the other pressing low on your spine to keep you in place.

you nod, dizzy, already so close.

“no,” he growls, voice like fire against your ear. “use your words.”

“yes,” you gasp. “yes, caleb—”

“say it right.”

your whole body shakes.

“i’m gonna cum for you,” you sob, voice cracking.

he thrusts harder, chasing your rhythm, every breath a broken promise.

“that’s my girl,” he growls. “cum for me. let me hear you—don’t hold back.”

and you don’t. you break. you shatter.

your body trembles under him, your breath torn from your lungs, a cry ripped out of your throat that has only his name in it.

he curses—loud, filthy—his rhythm faltering as he slams into you one final time, hips jerking, teeth clenched, every muscle drawn tight as he follows you over the edge.

his hands stay on you even when it’s over, heavy and sure. grounding.

both of you collapse forward—chests heaving, skin slick, tangled in the ruin of what was never supposed to happen again.

but it did.

and the room is quiet now.

except for the sound of your hearts, still beating like they know this was never just lust.

.

the next day you’re at his house.

the sun filters through caleb’s floor-to-ceiling windows—soft gold over sleek metal, shadows painting his sheets like secrets.

you’re in his bed.

your legs straddle his hips, skin flushed and marked, your hands pressed to his chest to keep your balance as your body rocks in a slow, devastating rhythm.

his hands rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking upward, reverent, greedy. and your phone’s pressed to your ear.

adrien’s voice filters through the line, sweet and unsuspecting.

“i miss you already,” he says warmly. “i should be free by tomorrow night. maybe i’ll bring dinner, yeah?”

you clench around caleb. his jaw tightens. your breath stutters.

“yeah,” you whisper, voice trembling only slightly. “that sounds… perfect.”

caleb’s hands tighten on your hips. and then he thrusts upward—sharp, deliberate.

your free hand clutches the sheet behind him, trying to hold still, trying not to moan.

adrien keeps talking. something about logistics. his voice is a comfort and a blade at once.

you glance down—caleb’s staring up at you, eyes dark, mouth parted. he watches you ride him like it’s the only thing that matters, like the phone in your hand is a game he’s determined to win.

he leans up slightly, mouth brushing your collarbone, whispering into your skin:

“keep talking.”

you swallow hard, barely able to think.

adrien laughs on the other end. “you okay? you sound a little breathless.”

caleb thrusts again—deeper this time.

your nails dig into his chest.

you lie. softly. “just… cleaning… this stupid stain is stuck on the carpet.”

his smirk is vicious.

and underneath you, he moves again. because he knows exactly what he’s doing. and he knows— you’re not going to stop him.

you try to keep your voice steady, try to hold on to the thread of the conversation—adrien’s voice still warm, still so good on the other end of the line.

but caleb’s hands tighten around your hips.

and then he starts moving— faster. deeper.

his rhythm shifts from teasing to deliberate force, every upward thrust punching the air from your lungs, your thighs trembling where they straddle him.

you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the gasp that breaks free.

caleb growls beneath you, low and dangerous, eyes locked on yours. “don’t you dare stop talking.”

your body bucks, your hand still gripping the phone tight against your ear as adrien’s voice continues, oblivious. something about flight delays. dinner reservations. your future.

but all you can hear is caleb’s breathing. all you can feel is him, inside you—every push driving you higher, rough and precise.

your eyes flutter. your head tilts back. your vision fogs.

caleb sits up slightly, chest brushing yours, his mouth ghosting your jaw.

“eyes on me,” he murmurs. “or roll them back. i want to see how far gone you are while you lie to him.”

your eyes snap open. then roll back.

your whole body shudders, and caleb groans, fingers digging harder into your hips to keep you from falling forward. you barely remember the phone still in your hand.

adrien’s voice rises, concerned. “hey, baby? you there?” you choke out, breathless, “yeah. sorry. dropped something.”

“you sound kind of off,” he says gently.

caleb’s voice slides against your neck, a ghost of laughter and filth.

“tell him you’re busy.”

your lips part.

adrien’s voice flickers with gentle concern through the phone, just as caleb’s hips snap up again, hard and deep, dragging a strangled whimper from your throat.

“you okay? seriously. you sound—off.”

you scramble for words, breathless, legs shaking.

“i—” you gasp, voice catching, “i just stubbed my toe.”

a pause on the other end, “what?”

“yeah,” you breathe out, clinging to the lie like a lifeline. “was moving the mop around… hit the leg of the table.”

caleb bites down on your shoulder, grinning against your skin like the devil himself.

“damn,” adrien laughs gently, unaware. “don’t hurt yourself trying to keep the place spotless. i’ll be back soon, okay?”

your nails dig into caleb’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut.

“yeah,” you whisper, “soon.”

“love you.”

you barely get it out. “love you too.”

and then the line goes dead. you drop the phone.

caleb’s hands catch your thighs, slamming you down onto him harder, deeper, a broken growl torn from his throat.

“stubbed your toe?” he mocks, voice dripping heat and pride. “you’re about to scream.”

your body jerks. your control snaps, and you cum, all for him— yet again.

your body’s still trembling when he finally stills beneath you, his arms wrapping around your waist as your chest heaves, slick with sweat and silence.

your legs have no strength left—they’re draped over his thighs like silk, your forehead resting against his shoulder, eyes closed, mouth parted as you try to catch your breath.

his hands roam slow over your back, grounding you.

neither of you speaks for a long while.

you can still feel it—him inside you, softening, warm, the echo of him burned into every inch of your skin. and despite everything—despite what you’ve done—you don’t move.

you can’t. 

his voice breaks the silence, soft and hoarse, barely louder than your own heartbeat.

“i love you.” you freeze.

your breath catches. he doesn’t pull away, just tightens his arms around you.

“i’ve always loved you,” he murmurs. “even when we met. even when i told myself i missed my chance. even when i watched you fall in love with someone else.”

your throat tightens. he leans in, his mouth brushing your temple.

“and i know you love me too.”

you don’t say anything— you don’t have to.

because your silence isn’t denial, it’s the sound of everything breaking. 

he feels it in your hands, curled around his chest. in the way your head rests against him a little heavier now. in the way your breath catches, quiet, like a sob you won’t let loose. he doesn’t push. he just holds you there—on his lap, in his arms, like maybe this time you won’t disappear when the sun comes up.

but you do.

you’re home before the sun has even begun to dip.

adrien’s still gone, somewhere between meetings and cocktail hours, his voice soft and golden over the last call he left you: can’t wait to be home, can’t wait to see you, miss you.

and now the house is spotless.

every surface wiped clean. fresh sheets on the bed. laundry folded and pressed. the subtle scent of citrus polish clings to your hands. the floorboards shine in the afternoon light like you never tracked sin across them barefoot hours earlier.

you’re barefoot now too.

a soft tee and shorts cling to your freshly showered skin, hair still damp, skin still flushed in places he didn’t touch—but left burning anyway.

the mop rests in the corner like a prop, innocent and ordinary.

you hum as you move through the kitchen, slicing fruit with a smile on your lips.

you’re happy.

blissfully so.

not because you’ve done the right thing.

but because he doesn’t know.

adrien, with his soft eyes and warm voice and endless devotion, will walk through that door tomorrow and kiss your cheek and call you his, and he’ll never once suspect that your knees shook around another man’s hips less than twelve hours ago.

you chew a piece of mango, sweet and sharp on your tongue.

your phone buzzes. you don’t look right away. you let yourself feel this moment—domestic, easy, safe.

untouched.

then you glance at the screen.

caleb: you taste better than any lie you’ve ever told.

you hear the key turn in the door before you’re even fully dry from your second shower.

adrien steps in, suitcase rolling behind him, blazer slung over his shoulder, and that smile—the one he always saves just for you—spreading across his face like sun through the clouds.

“there’s my girl,” he says, voice warm from the road, from miles of distance you filled with something else.

he pulls you into his arms before you can even pretend to be surprised, holding you tight, breath in your hair. he smells like travel and cologne and loyalty.

you let yourself melt into it—for a second.

you even smile.

he pulls back, brushing your cheek with his thumb, and there’s something new in his eyes. not fear. not worry.

just promise.

“listen,” he says, voice quieter now. “i’ve been thinking about this for a while. and this week just made it clearer.”

your stomach drops.

your fingers twitch.

adrien reaches into his bag.

a velvet box—sleek, dark, unassuming—appears in his hand like it’s always been meant to be there.

your breath catches.

he opens it.

the ring gleams in the light. simple. elegant. perfect.

you don’t hear the rest of what he says—not really. just flashes of it.

“you’re everything to me…” — “want to spend my life with you…”—  “if you’ll have me…”

your pulse roars in your ears. and your smile doesn’t falter. but your soul does.

because you already said yes to someone else. 

not with a ring—with your body.

your phone is still in your back pocket, pressed hard against your spine like a curse.

adrien is still talking. and you’re nodding.

you excuse yourself a minute later with some excuse about needing to grab something from the room. he doesn’t suspect a thing.

not even as you step into the hallway, shut the door, pull your phone free with trembling fingers—

and text him.

you: he has a ring. what the fuck do i do.

you don’t wait for a reply.

you just sink to the edge of the bed, the world spinning too loud in your ears, the weight of the velvet box echoing like a war drum in the next room.

[bittencider]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐃-𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The tension between you and Xavier had been building for the past ten minutes. The living room felt smaller with each passing second, the space between you charged with unspoken frustrations. He remained still as always while you gesticulated wildly, your frustration mounting as you paced back and forth.

“You can’t just disappear for hours without telling me, Xavier! I was worried sick!” Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying how genuinely frightened you’d been.

He stood with perfect posture by the window, hands clasped behind his back. “I apologize. I was helping a neighbor downstairs with their computer system. Time escaped me.” The words were perfectly reasonable, delivered in that maddeningly measured tone he always used.

His calm demeanor only fueled your irritation. How could he be so composed when you’d been imagining the worst? Fatal accidents. Hospital rooms. All the terrible possibilities that had played through your mind on repeat.

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, closing the distance between you. “This is the third time this week you’ve vanished without a word. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To call and text and get nothing back?”

Standing this close, you noticed subtle changes in his expression—his eyebrows furrowed slightly and the corner of his mouth turned down just enough to be noticeable. The tiny muscle along his jaw twitched, and you caught the quickening pulse at his neck despite his outward composure. These microexpressions—so small anyone else would miss them—revealed the emotions he struggled to articulate.

“I didn’t intend to cause distress,” he said quietly, and for once, his voice carried a hint of genuine regret. “The repair was more complex than anticipated. The family had lost access to critical medical records.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a mechanic or something?” You exhaled sharply, running your hands through your hair. “Just... call next time. Or text. Anything.”

His eyes met yours, searching. “The thought didn’t occur to me. That was... an oversight.”

Something in his admission—the rare acknowledgment of an emotional mistake rather than a logical error—made your frustration shift into something else entirely. You suddenly become aware of how close you were standing, you can faintly smell the subtle scent of his cologne. Your anger was still there, but beneath it stirred something warmer.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, fingers gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie, and pressed your lips firmly against his. For a moment, everything froze—the argument, your racing thoughts, even time itself.

Xavier went completely still, clearly caught off guard by this abrupt change. You felt the slight intake of his breath against your lips, the momentary tension in his shoulders. Then, like ice melting in the sun, he yielded. His shoulders relaxed, and his hands—initially hovering uncertainly—found their way to your waist, steady and warm through the fabric of your shirt.

The kiss lingered longer than you’d intended, your anger dissolving with each passing second. His lips were surprisingly soft, with the faint taste of the mint tea he always drank in the evenings. What had started as impulse deepened into something tender, the physical connection saying everything words had failed to express between you.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were wider than usual, pupils slightly dilated. Xavier’s carefully composed expression had cracked completely open, revealing vulnerability you only got to see. A flush colored his cheekbones, making him look younger, more boyish.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice softer than before, slightly breathless in a way that made your heart skip.

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, equally breathless. “I’m still mad at you, though.” The declaration lacked conviction even to your own ears, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if processing a complex equation. His thumb traced a gentle circle on your hip where his hand still rested. “I understand your concern,” he said finally, each word carefully chosen. “Next time, I’ll message you.”

You sighed, feeling the last remnants of your anger slipping away. “I just... when I couldn’t reach you, I imagined all these terrible scenarios.” Your forehead dropped against his chest, suddenly exhausted from the emotional whiplash.

“That hadn’t occurred to me, because I usually came back just fine,” he admitted quietly. His arms encircled you fully now, pulling you into an embrace. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, reassuringly present and real.

“Though if this is how our arguments conclude,” he whispered, that subtle teasing tone emerging that only you ever got to hear, “I might be tempted to provoke them more often.”

You smacked his chest lightly, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Don’t you dare.”

“Noted,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Though I make no promises about forgetting the time again. But I will promise to let you know where I am.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” you whispered against the soft fabric of his hoodie, breathing in his familiar scent. The argument had dissolved, leaving something stronger, more honest in its wake—another layer of understanding between you and this complex, fascinating man you’d fallen for.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital cast everything in an unflattering glow, including Zayne’s stern expression as he worked on your arm. The sharp antiseptic smell permeated the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood—your blood—that had soaked through your uniform.

“Hold still,” Zayne commanded as he dabbed antiseptic on the gash along your arm. The cool liquid burned against the raw wound, making you inhale sharply.

You winced at the sting but tried to maintain a brave face. “It’s just a scratch,” you said dismissively, though the throbbing told a different story.

His eyes flicked up momentarily from his work, dark with barely contained emotion. “A ‘scratch’ that nearly severed your brachial artery,” he countered, his deft fingers working methodically on the sutures.

You watched his hands as he worked—steady, precise movements born from years of practice. The precision of his gestures contrasted sharply with the tightness around his eyes and the muscle jumping in his jaw. The silence between stitch pulls felt heavier than artillery fire.

“What were you thinking, charging like that without proper clearance?” he finally asked, voice too controlled, too measured to disguise the emotion underneath.

With each stitch, you could feel his conflicting emotions—the methodical doctor warring with the man who clearly cared for you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes remained focused on the wound, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

“I had intelligence that couldn’t wait,” you defended, though your voice lacked conviction. The pain medication was making it hard to maintain your stubborn front, and his proximity was distracting. Zayne had always been handsome, but there was something about the intensity of his focus, even while angry, that made your pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with your injury.

Zayne’s jaw tightened visibly as he reached for the surgical thread again. “Intelligence. Right.” He tied off a stitch with perhaps more force than necessary, making you flinch. His eyes immediately softened with regret for causing additional pain, though his voice remained stern. “And that intelligence was worth risking your life?”

“The mission was—”

“The mission would have failed entirely if you’d bled out in that alley,” he cut in, his voice sharp as a scalpel. “Do you have any idea what it was like—” his voice wavered, “—knowing you’re out there, but not knowing if you’d come out alive?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. The rhythmic beeping of medical equipment filled the silence, counting the heartbeats where neither of you spoke. You hadn’t considered that perspective—hadn’t thought about Zayne possibly remembering other battlefields where he’d arrived too late.

As he reached to wrap your arm, you noticed the slight tremor in his usually steady hands. It was subtle—anyone else might have missed it—but you knew those hands too well. They had patched you up countless times, had grabbed you out of harm’s way, had steadied you during your hard times. Now they betrayed his composure in a way his disciplined expression never would.

“You could have died,” he said more quietly as he smoothed the bandage over your skin, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. 

Something in his vulnerability made your chest tighten. The walls you’d both maintained through professional necessity suddenly seemed absurd in the face of how close you’d come to never seeing him again. The realization hit you with unexpected force—what if this had been your last interaction? An argument in a sterile hospital room?

Without overthinking it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, effectively silencing his lecture. You felt his momentary surprise, the stiffening of his shoulders before something like surrender washed through him. The kiss was gentle, an apology and a reassurance wrapped into one. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours.

For a suspended moment, the hospital, the mission, the injury—everything disappeared except the point where you connected. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, careful to avoid jostling your injured arm. The professional mask he wore so carefully had slipped entirely away, revealing the vulnerability underneath that only you were trusted to see.

When you pulled back, his expression had transformed. The stern doctor was gone. His breath came slightly faster, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You gave him your best innocent look, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. “Doctor, am I going to make it?”

For a moment, he appeared stunned, lips slightly parted in surprise, a flush rising from beneath the collar of his medical coat. Then he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders visibly releasing. The corner of his mouth twitched upward—not quite a smile, but getting there.

“Your prognosis is favorable,” he murmured. He finished securing the bandage, his touch had gentled considerably. “But I’m prescribing close observation for the next twenty-four hours. My office would be the appropriate location for such monitoring.”

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then traced a path down to your lips again. This second kiss was different—unhurried and deliberate, carrying promises neither of you had voiced aloud. You felt the last of his anger dissolving.

You smiled against his lips, victory achieved. “If that’s your medical opinion, Doctor.”

“It is,” he said, carefully helping you sit up. His hand lingered at the small of your back, steadying you. “And next time, wait for backup. Please.” The ‘please’ was barely audible, a rare moment of naked vulnerability.

It was a plea from someone who couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

“I promise,” you said softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, and—” Rafayel checked his watch with exaggerated timing, spinning around to face you as you entered his studio, “—fourteen seconds. That’s how long I’ve been waiting.” He threw his hands upward. “Do you know what I could have done in that time? I could have watched Titanic. I could have baked a soufflé—actually, no, three soufflés! I could have learned the basics of Spanish!”

You closed the door behind you, exhaustion evident in your movements. Your muscles ached from the tension of the mission, and your uniform still carried the faint smell of smoke and sweat. The emergency operation had taken everything out of you, but Rafayel was clearly in no mood to be sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel. The situation was critical and—”

“Critical enough to not send a single message?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He paced the room with exaggerated steps, hands gesturing wildly as if conducting an invisible orchestra of grievances. “We had plans. Specific plans that involved a sunset and a dinner reservation that I can’t get back. Do you know how many strings I had to pull? How many favors I called in?”

You dropped your bag with a heavy thud, wincing as your bruised shoulder protested the movement. “Rafayel, please—”

“The restaurant had a two-month waiting list!” He spun again, his silk shirt billowing slightly with the movement. “The chef was going to prepare that ridiculous flaming dessert you like—the one with the sparklers that always makes you smile like a child at a festival.” His voice softened momentarily before hardening again. “I even wore the shirt you like. The one that’s actually uncomfortable but makes my eyes look nice or whatever.”

He wasn’t wrong—the color of the silk did make his eyes look particularly striking, even now as they flashed with indignation. You noticed he’d styled his hair as well, and the realization that he’d put such effort into the evening made your heart twist with guilt.

“There wasn’t time to message anyone,” you explained, sinking onto the couch, too tired to remain standing through his complaints. “The comms were jammed. We barely made it out at all.”

Rafayel narrowed his eyes, studying your face for any sign of deception. “Oh, so it’s technology’s fault now?” He threw his hands up again, accidentally knocking a decorative vase that he caught with surprising reflexes before it could shatter. “Humans and their excuses. Always something or someone else to blame. ‘The sun was in my eyes! The dog ate my homework! The communications were jammed during my super-secret mission!’”

He set the vase down with care despite his agitation—a reminder that for all his dramatic flair, Rafayel was actually quite meticulous. “Next you’ll tell me there were explosions and car chases, like some absurd action movie.”

The accuracy of his sarcastic guess made you hesitate just long enough for his eyes to widen.

“Wait, there were actually explosions? And you’re just walking in here like it’s nothing?” Something flickered across his face—genuine concern breaking through the outrage—before he quickly composed himself again. “Well, that’s... that’s beside the point! The point is I was abandoned. Left to wither away on my own.”

Despite your fatigue, irritation sparked. “I didn’t exactly choose to be ambushed and pinned down for two hours! I wasn’t having fun, Rafayel!”

“And I didn’t choose to sit alone at that ridiculous restaurant while the waiter gave me pitying looks!” he shot back, voice rising as he threw himself into the armchair across from you. “Do you know how humiliating that was? Waiting and waiting while everyone whispered about the poor abandoned man? The maître d’ actually patted my shoulder, like I was some... some tragic figure!”

He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, mussing it in a way that somehow made him look even more attractive—an infuriating talent he seemed unaware of. “I ordered wine. I checked my phone approximately nine thousand times. I made up elaborate excuses about my date being a super great hunter called into an emergency mission to save Linkon City.”

The genuine hurt beneath his outrage became suddenly clear. Behind the dramatic gestures and exaggerated language was real pain—the vulnerability of someone who had been genuinely worried. 

You rose from the couch, crossing the small space between you. He continued his rant, though his voice lost some of its conviction as you approached.

“And then I had to walk home alone, past all those disgustingly happy couples who—”

You stepped forward, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed your lips firmly against his. You could feel the exact moment his indignation melted, his body language transforming from rigid offense to relieved surrender. For a moment, he remained stiff, clearly determined to hold onto his righteous anger. Then, with a small sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, his arms encircled you, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap.

The kiss tasted faintly of the expensive wine he’d mentioned—he hadn’t been exaggerating about waiting at the restaurant, at least. His fingers tangled in your hair, gentle despite his earlier theatrics, cradling your head as if you were something precious he’d feared losing.

When you pulled away, his pout remained, though considerably less convincing. His lips, slightly reddened from the kiss, contradicted his attempt at maintaining his anger. His fingers traced your cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicted his dramatic words—the clearest sign that you’d been forgiven, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“This changes nothing,” he mumbled, even as his fingers gently traced patterns on your back, discovering and carefully avoiding the spots where you’d been injured. “I’m still upset.”

“I know,” you acknowledged softly, resting your forehead against his. “And I really am sorry about dinner. I know how much trouble you went through to arrange it.”

“You should be,” he huffed, but then rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your face. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? The things I imagined? You could have been hurt or—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. 

“I’m okay,” you assured him, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “A few bruises, nothing serious.”

His eyes searched yours, seeing through the minimization. His hand found the tender spot on your shoulder that you’d been trying to hide, his touch feather-light. “Liar,” he said softly, with none of his earlier accusations. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s part of the job,” you reminded him gently. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“A job that consistently interrupts my meticulously planned romantic gestures,” he complained, but his voice had lost its edge. His fingers moved from your shoulder to your neck, then to your face, as if reassuring himself that you were really there, whole and safe. “But I suppose I’m glad you weren’t permanently damaged. That would have been extremely inconvenient for my future plans.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“You seem distracted today,” Sylus remarked, watching you from across his office room in the Onychinus’s base. His voice carried that peculiar blend of observation and judgment that never failed to set your teeth on edge. “Something troubling that brilliant mind of yours?”

You’d been on edge all morning, his casual observations hitting every nerve. The mission report in front of you blurred as you tried to focus on anything besides his piercing gaze from across the room. Each time he passed behind your chair, you could feel his presence like electricity, deliberately invading your space as if testing your limits.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied tersely, gripping your pen tighter.

“Clearly.” His lips curled into that infuriating smirk that made you want to either slap him or— No. You refused to follow that train of thought. “That’s why you’ve been glaring daggers at the same report for twenty minutes. Fascinating reading material, is it?”

“I’m concentrating.” You made a show of turning the page, though you hadn’t absorbed a single word from the previous one.

“On setting it ablaze with your eyes, perhaps?” He chuckled, the sound rich and smooth like aged whiskey—a sound that would be pleasant in any other context, from any other person. He pushed away from his ornate desk, crossing the room with that grace that seemed to define his every movement. “Come now, sweetie. You know I can see right through you.”

Your grip tightened on your pen until your knuckles whitened. Today, his typical banter felt like sandpaper on raw skin. The weight of the failed mission hung heavy on your shoulders—a mission he’d asked you to accompany him. The subtle way his eyes had followed you since your return suggested he knew exactly how it had gone wrong, and was simply waiting for you to admit it.

The mission had been stressful enough without his commentary, and you’d specifically chosen to work in his office for the quiet atmosphere, not the running commentary. The irony wasn’t lost on you—seeking peace in the devil’s lair—but the alternative was the bustling common areas where questions about the mission would be impossible to avoid.

“Perhaps it’s the negotiations?” he continued, leaning against your desk, invading your personal space with calculated precision. The subtle scent of his cologne—something expensive and custom-made, no doubt—wrapped around you like an unwelcome embrace. “Your strategy was... unconventional. Though I must say, watching you attempt to outmaneuver your opponent was quite entertaining. Like watching a chess novice challenge a grandmaster.”

His words struck with precision, targeting exactly where you felt most vulnerable. The negotiations had fallen apart spectacularly, though not for lack of preparation on your part. Sylus had blamed it on a few of his henchmen, he’ll deal with them later for forgetting to mention some details that caused you to stress yourself out.

“Or maybe it’s that little encounter with one of my rivals the day before yesterday?” he pressed on, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to incline toward him despite yourself. “I heard of how that meeting concluded.”

That was the breaking point. The pen in your hand snapped, ink staining your fingers like evidence of a crime. In one fluid motion, you stood from your chair, the sudden movement causing Sylus to straighten, a flash of surprise crossing his features before his customary smirk returned.

“Would you just—” The words caught in your throat, frustration making it impossible to articulate exactly what you wanted from him. Silence? An apology? Some acknowledgment that he’d set you up to fail although it’s not entirely his fault?

Instead of finishing your sentence, you grabbed his perfectly pressed collar and yanked him down, crushing your lips against his. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was pure frustration translated into action, teeth clashing, fingers gripping fabric tight enough to wrinkle the expensive material.

The stunned widening of his eyes gave you a flash of satisfaction—finally something had caught the ever-composed Sylus off-guard. For a heartbeat, he remained completely still, his usual grace abandoned in genuine surprise. Then his hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he responded with unexpected intensity.

What had started as an impulsive act of defiance quickly transformed into something more. The kiss deepened, his other hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer with surprising strength. Heat bloomed where his fingers pressed, spreading through your body like wildfire. The taste of him—bitter coffee and something sweeter underneath—was intoxicating in the worst possible way.

When you broke away, breathless and disoriented, you glared up at him. “Shut. Up.”

For perhaps the first time this week, Sylus appeared genuinely caught off balance. His usual perfect composure had slipped, collar askew, a hint of color high on his sharp cheekbones. Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, certainly, but also something darker, more intense that made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

Rather than appearing offended, Sylus looked thoroughly entertained once he recovered, eyes gleaming with intrigue. He straightened slowly, adjusting his collar that drew attention to his long fingers.

“Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rougher than his usual polished tones, “that’s certainly one way to request silence.” His tongue darted out to touch his lower lip briefly, as if sampling the taste you’d left there. “Effective, if unorthodox.”

But true to your demand, he didn’t speak further. Instead, he returned to his chaise lounge across the room, picking up his own work with an amused expression that should have infuriated you but somehow didn’t.

The silence stretched between you, no longer suffocating. You returned to your report, finding it suddenly easier to focus with Sylus’s voice no longer needling at your concentration. Occasionally, you felt his gaze on you, but whenever you glanced up, he was seemingly absorbed in his own work, though the ghost of a smile played around his lips.

After you’d made significant progress through the stack of files, a steaming cup of your favorite tea appeared at your elbow without warning. The delicate china cup—part of an antique set Sylus guarded jealously—was filled with the precise shade and aroma that you preferred, complete with the exact amount of honey you favored.

When you looked up questioningly, Sylus merely raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘See? I can be helpful when not talking.’ His smirk had softened around the edges, a truce offering in the form of perfectly brewed tea.

Despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. You raised the cup in silent acknowledgment, a momentary peace established in the aftermath of that impulsive kiss.

As you sipped the tea—prepared exactly as you liked it, proving he’d been paying far more attention than you’d given him credit for—you wondered which one of you had actually won this particular skirmish. Based on the satisfied gleam in his eye whenever he glanced your way, Sylus clearly thought he had the upper hand.

But as the afternoon wore on in productive silence, punctuated only by the occasional meaningful glance, you weren’t entirely sure you’d lost either.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The drive back to Caleb’s apartment was suffocating with silence. Rain streaked across the windshield, city lights blurring into watery halos as he navigated the evening trafficking Skyhaven. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw set in that way that meant he was holding back words—a dam of frustration ready to break at any moment.

You stared out the passenger window, your reflection ghostly against the glass, unable to look at him directly. You’d avoided him for three days after the mission went sideways. Three days of ducking into supply closets when you heard his footsteps in the corridor, of swapping shifts with anyone willing, of ignoring the increasingly terse messages on your comm unit. It wasn’t rational—you knew that—but facing him after your mistake in the field felt impossible.

The car stopped at a red light, engine humming. Raindrops raced down the window, merging and separating like the strategies you should have coordinated better during the operation. In the reflection of the glass, you could see Caleb’s profile—strong jaw tensed, eyes fixed straight ahead, the small scar above his eyebrow more pronounced in the harsh street lighting.

Neither of you had spoken since he’d found you in the briefing room, simply saying “We need to talk” in that Colonel voice that brooked no argument. Now, pulling into the parking space at his building, you still hadn’t found the words to bridge the chasm between you.

He unlocked his door, letting you enter first. The familiarity of his place—the orderly bookshelves, the single plant you’d given him that somehow thrived despite his frequent absences, the subtle scent of coffee and cologne he wore—made your chest ache with a complicated emotion. You couldn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead around the room—everything in its place except for the emotions threatening to spill over between you.

The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, the tension broke.

“Three days,” he stated, voice unnervingly calm as he set his keys in the exact same spot they always occupied on the entryway table. “No communications, dodging my calls, switching shifts.” Each offense listed with the precision of military charges being read.

You shrugged, aiming for casual while removing your jacket, though your hands betrayed you with a slight tremor. “I’ve been busy.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you,” he said, stepping closer, the controlled anger in his voice making it lower than usual. “Never has.” He moved into your space, not touching you but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the rain on his uniform mingling with his cologne. “I know exactly what you’re doing. Running away because you think I blame you for what happened.”

Your breath caught. Of course he’d figured it out—he always did. Caleb could read encryptions and enemy movements with uncanny accuracy, but his ability to decode your thoughts sometimes felt even more disarming.

“People could have died because of my call,” you whispered, finally voicing the fear that had been haunting you for days. Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides, the phantom feeling of your weapon during that critical moment when everything had gone wrong.

“But they didn’t,” he countered. His voice remained firm but had lost some of its edge. “The team is safe. The mission objectives were achieved, if not in the way we planned.”

“That’s not the point,” you argued, finally meeting his gaze. The intensity there nearly made you step back. “I ignored direct orders—your orders. I put everyone at risk because I thought I knew better.”

“You made a judgment call in the field,” he corrected, running a hand through his rain-dampened hair. The gesture, so uncharacteristically nervous for him, revealed just how deeply the situation had affected him, too. “What I can’t accept is you avoiding me afterward. Avoiding the team. Avoiding the debrief where we could have addressed what happened.”

“And avoiding me doesn’t change what happened or help us prevent it next time,” he continued, his voice softening. “The team needs you. I need—” He stopped, seeming to catch himself. “The mission requires all officers and you, Miss Hunter, to be present for debriefing. That’s protocol.”

The retreat behind protocol stung worse than his anger. The distance he was deliberately placing between you—falling back on rank and procedure—felt like a physical wound. The intensity in his eyes was too much to bear.

Before he could continue his lecture, before he could retreat further behind the wall of Colonel, you surged forward, grasping his collar and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. The kiss was both surrender and defiance—an apology you couldn’t voice and a desperate plea to move past the wall building between you.

For a heartbeat, he remained rigid, hands stiff at his sides. Then, like ice thawing, he responded, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against him. The rain had chilled his lips, but they quickly warmed against yours, the taste of something uniquely him making your heart race.

What had begun as impulse deepened into something more profound. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. The carefully maintained distance of the past days dissolved with each passing second, replaced by an urgency that spoke of relief and lingering fear—fear that the rift between you might have been permanent.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, his expression had transformed. The stern Colonel was gone, replaced by just Caleb—your Caleb—with unguarded emotion in his eyes. His shoulders relaxed for what felt like the first time in days.

“Don’t be mad at me like that...” you whispered. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your bodies pressed together.

His expression had softened even more, he could never stay mad at you for long, not when you looked at him like this.

“That won’t work every time,” he murmured, though the smile playing at his lips suggested otherwise. His thumb traced gentle circles at the small of your back.

“Seems to be working now,” you replied, relieved to see the anger dissipating like morning fog. You pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow to its usual steady rhythm.

Caleb sighed, one hand still tangled in your hair, gently massaging your scalp in that way he knew always calmed you. The rain continued to patter against the windows. “You know why I was angry, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest against your ear.

You nodded slightly. “Because I disobeyed a direct order.”

“No,” he said, pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Because you disappeared afterward. Because for three days, I didn’t know if you were okay—not physically, but here.” He tapped gently at your temple. “Missions go wrong. Plans fall apart. That’s the nature of what we do. But we process it together.”

“I thought you’d be disappointed in me.”

“I was disappointed you didn’t trust me enough to face me,” he corrected, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “We’re partners in this, in all of it. The good calls and the bad ones.”

“I promise,” you whispered. “No more running. No matter what happens, we face it together.”

Something in your tone must have convinced him, because the last traces of tension left his body. He pressed his lips to your forehead, the gesture tender in a way that made your heart ache. 

“Good,” he murmured against your skin. “Because the next time you go dark on me for three days, I’m sending the entire squadron to find you.”

After five hours of writing with plenty of breaks (read: procrastination and distraction), and I finally finished my longest scenario yet. This ended up being one of my favorites, as I truly enjoyed the writing process and got completely carried away.

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♥Sylus Motorcycle lessons~

*More art on Patreon

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he must make his big blobbus wife happy

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“FOCUS, PIPSQUEAK.”

FEATURING THE ONE AND ONLY: CALEB 夏以昼

content warnings: 18+ !!! MEAN!DOM caleb x reader, cockwarming (can’t you guys tell i lowkey hv a thing 4 it 😵‍💫), spanking, edging before overstimulation, penetrative sex, cumming inside.

author’s note for my bae @freaktoru, i hope is to your liking 🤞🏻🤞🏻 (req here) thank you to anyone who’s reading :3

word count: 2.1k

SLAP! “focus, pipsqueak.”

you squeal at caleb’s large hand coming down on your sore ass. he has already turned it a glowing shade of red from the number of strikes he’s given you to pull your mind out of a daze. 25? 30? you’ve honestly lost count by now. it hurts, but you know better than to protest or whine for what you want. honestly, it makes you feel so embarrassed with how this has been turning you on. but oh, caleb knows. of course he knows how needy you are. however, girlfriend or not, you asked him to help you with your grades so no special treatment for you. but he was going to make learning much more memorable for you because he knows you were someone who had trouble with retaining the knowledge you’ve learnt.

how was he going to help you, you may wonder? he just has you seated on his almost painfully thick cock that stretches you so good and absolutely fills you to the brim - it felt like he was up to your lungs that you with every breath you took. all you could pay attention to was his twitching cock inside of you. you did try to focus on what he was teaching you, but it was just too hard to think properly! :(

“tch. you better fucking focus, sweetheart. i’m not going to tell you again. you get one more mistake and so help me god, you won’t be cumming until you get your results back from this test. oh, and it better be over an eighty percent if you don’t want to be edged until the next test,” he spits out in frustration. you kick your legs in the air as a little signal of protest. however, they do near to nothing to caleb with how they’re are kept painfully spread open around his own thighs, restricting you from rubbing against him for any sort of friction. you couldn’t bear having to wait so excruciatingly long just for some stupid test.

“caleeeb,” you whine and before inhaling a shaky breath. “i—hch!— i can’t,” you whimper and squirm. he only sighs in exasperation at your words, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “too bad babe, either way you’re going to be seated here until i say otherwise, so sit still and focus.” he shakes his head disapprovingly.

your mind is dizzy. the feeling of his pulsing cock in you prodding at jabbing at your gummy insides with every shift he makes, it’s driving you crazy. you don’t even need to look to know how soaked you are all over his thighs. the loud squelching and the feeling of your wetness dripping between your legs was enough. you just want to cry out and sob, hell, even curl into a ball and beg but you know your boyfriend isn’t going to give into your little scheme this time. not after you failed your last physics exam.

you got a D. a freaking D. how did that even happen? when you told caleb, it had him nearly collapsing to the ground and his jaw wide in shock. he came out with an A+ on that test but you! his student he had tutored so hard still needed further improvement.

“what are the boundary conditions for the wave function in a finite potential well?” caleb whispers as he presses a sweet kiss behind your ear. god, if you only his sweet actions matched his filthy words. the way he still held you oh so gently contrasting the way he talked to you. so mean. “the wave function—sniff!—m-must be continuous, finite..” you pause. fuck, fuck, fuck. what was the last one? you turn to see caleb raising an eyebrow at you, anticipating your answer. “smooth?..” you whimper out.

he gives you a cold, mean smile. “seems like you do know what i’m talking about. thought my cock already turned your brain to mush. not a dumb little slut yet huh?” he teases you. despite his cruel words, you can feel the hand resting on your thigh soften, releasing it’s tight grip on you and now rubs soothing circles against you. you bite back a whimper, your teeth sinking into your already ruined and bruised lips.

seeing your trembling and whimpering state, caleb decides to be a little more merciful. “three more questions right and i’ll fuck you the way you want, baby.” he coos, a laugh rumbles in his chest, the vibrations travelling from his chest to your back pressed flushed against him. you nearly let out a cry of relief at his words but instead you just frantically nod, sniffing on your tears.

his hand comes up to grip your neck firmly. to ground you. “words, my princess. say ‘thank you, caleb’ or not i’m making it five questions instead.” his voice hardens, telling you there were no room for arguments if you didn’t speak up.

you freeze up, trepidation running up your spine at his ruthlessness. you scramble for a quick reply, “i-i’ll be—hiccup!—good caleb!” he squishes your cheeks, cutting off your panicked reply, “pwease—hgh!—i’ll dwo’it. i’ll be a gwood girl..twank you cwaleb!!” you struggle against his hand squeezing your face. drool practically seeps out at the side of your lips as you speak. honestly, pathetic.

caleb chuckes, low and fond, releasing his grip on your face before running his fingers soothingly along your trembling sides. “i know you’re my good girl honey. i’ll take care of you,” he coos, rubbing his face affectionately against yours, the frame of his glasses mushing against the side of your face.

“now, describe t’me the concept of quantum tunnelling. you can do it.” he encourages, if you knew any better, maybe any less delirious, you would’ve picked up the utter amusement laced in his voice. you gulp, “quantum tunnelling,” you pause when you feel his fingers move downwards to rub tight, mind numbing circles on your clit. “it u-uhm..it allows particles-ngh! caleb stop!”you whimper half way. he only huffs out a laugh, a wolfish grin curling at the ends of his lips, prompts you to continue despite the nimble movement of his fingers rubbing you oh so nicely.

“it allows—hah!—particles to pass through p-potential barriers higher than their total energy.” you cry out before falling limp on his chest.

“what about a real-world example of this, hm?” he asks now fully immersed in his train of thoughts, thinking of all the possible answers. you on the other hand? trying not to cry out at every question that practically forced you to used your dumbed out brain of yours.

“a-alpha decay!—mmh—in nuclear physics?”you pant out. this time your hands clench, tightening that your knuckles turn white. in all honestly, you bullshitted that.

“correct,” he hums. “such a smart girl f’me. last one kay? you’ve been so so good.” he praises you. it makes the arousal in your tummy grow even stronger, the flickering flame of heat already severely agitated from his pulsing cock inside you - it’s maddening.

“what is quantum enlargement?” he encourages again, his large muscular arms wrapping around you tightly, leaning down to press a slow, calculated peck on the temple of your head. “you can do it,” he murmurs softly.

you’re brain stutters again. failing to function properly as you would if he wasn’t teasing you this much otherwise. “a-a phenomenon…w-where two particles become—sniff!—linked so that the state of one instantly influences the state of the other, no matter h-how far apart—ngh!- they are?” you finish off your statement, not fully sure.

instantly, caleb lifts you off him before shoving you down onto the table infront, making you scramble to reach to hold onto anything. before you can prepare, you go cross-eyed when he pulls out to the hilt before slamming deep inside you, groaning as he finally can thrust inside of you. “ngh! what a good girl you are, baby. so good for me, hm? answering everything correctly”

“nggh-! caleb—my-ngah!—my tummy! my tummy! ish too fuullll!” you sob, your fingernails digging into the wooden desk. you feel his hands grab at your waist, to pull your hips flush against his to meet every harsh thrust - the feeling of him rearranging you from the inside. the squelching of the leaking arousal pouring out as you . suddenly he shoves himself to the hilt, burying himself in you before grinding down hard.

he reaches a hand to your face to pull your hair back, forcing you to look into the big mirror attached to one of caleb’s wall. what a lewd sight infront of you - tears running down your face, as you watch your stupidly hot boyfriend lean closer to your shaking body, his glasses all fogged up as he snickers cruel words into your ears. “such a slut for your nerdy boyfriend right? i know, i know baby. it just feels so so good to be fucked until you can’t think as a reward right?” you let out a wail, legs buckling against the table. “yeah, baby? yeah? it must be feel so good for you. it’s okay iii got’cha. let go now, just break f’me,” he reassures you.

he releases your hair and moves down to pull your frame against him, your legs fully giving out and caleb simply just holds your full bodyweight without problem the flexion of his bicep visible under the lighting as your eyes glance back to the mirror to admire your pretty boyfriend. such a meanie :(

he reaches his other hand to intertwine yours with his as he nears his orgasm. the loud pap! pap! pap! of his hips hitting yours growing louder as he thrusts harder and faster into your greedy cunt, your walls that are sucking him so so deep. “nghh—cum with me baby, please, please i need you to cum with me. aagh! feel your walls tremble against my cock,” he groans.

at his words, your vision instantly whitens as your jaw drops in a silent scream. your orgasm hitting you with immense pleasure and you feel him cumming inside you too; the large spurts of cum telling you all you needed to know -how incredibly turned on he was. you grip his hand tighter as you tremble from the violent pleasure you’ve succumbed to.

suddenly it becomes overstimulating. you let out a whimper of your own when you realise despite cumming already, he keeps going! despite the also overw sensitivity hitting him, he decides that he wasn’t going to stop until he pulls another out of you. “one more baby. one more f’me—hagh!-“ his voice cracks, the sweet, sweet whimpers falling from him. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply before sighing as his hips kept thrusting and thrusting.

your freehand reaches back in attempt to push him away, pressing at his flexed abs as he uses all his strength to fuck his cum back into you. “eek! c-caleb! your cuum!” you cry out. “stop! caleb please! i-it’s sloshing inside me,” you wail weakly, slightly panicked from how loud the lewd noise was, yet deep inside you, it turned you on. incredibly. “shh shh-nnh—i’m not stopping yet pip. that’s the point.“ he laughs. “my name isn’t the safeword, you know what to say if you truly want me to stop,” he mocks. he was utterly pussydrunk - drunk on you. the sound of your moans, the sound of your cunt, everything.

soon your walls convulse all over him again, pulling him in deeper and caleb feels as if he’s in heaven. his thrusts begin to stutter, his moans growing louder alongside with yours. then he releases his final orgasm, stuffing you fuller than before that his cum drips out and onto the floor with each brutal thrust. in your ear you hear his babbles of ‘i love yous’ falling from his lips non-stop.

the both of you were utterly fucked dumb because of caleb.

he pulls out slowly, making you whimper from the loss and he falls back into the chair. he heaves and pants, pulling you against him, before coaxing sweet nothings as you to curl up in his lap so he could hold you.

once you both come down, he grins mischievously, “soo, i better see that 4.0 GPA, pip. that’s the least you can do after how much i’ve practiced with you,” he pouts with faux sympathy.

if only you could answer him, you were too fucked out to even respond snarkily.

what an infuriatingly hot, stupid and above all MEAN boyfriend you had. yet you loved him so so much; with your whole being.

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SUMMARY: Pussydrunk Caleb. 𓆩♡𓆪

WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI 18+, explicit content, mentions of fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, or4l fixation in general

────────────────────── .✦

When Caleb sees your pussy for the first time, he’s entranced, spellbound even. 

It just looks so…lewd.

With his slender fingers, he spreads your folds, fully exposing yourself to him as he stares at your aching cunt, dripping with need as you moan and try to buck up into his touch.

And – your clit. The little nub that nestles in between your folds and pokes out slightly. He’s practically  in a trance as he swipes a thumb right over your sensitive clit. You let out a wail, pleasure shooting through you at the feel of his rough calluses. Your body squirms from the sensitiveness of it all, but Caleb grabs hold of your thighs and spreads your legs open even wider, keeping you in place as he continues to explore your cunt. 

“Nnnngh – Caleb!” you shriek, face hot and breathless. 

Caleb hums, as he continues rubbing your sensitive little nub, using your sopping wetness as slick. He plays with it, going from making small fervent circles to tracing his name on it with his nimble fingers dancing all over your clit.

And you're reduced to nothing but a moaning mess underneath him.

“So good for me, pips,” Caleb groans, as he finally flicks his gaze to you, his pupils blown impossibly wide and his mouth parting open slightly. Pussydrunk is written all over his face. 

“It’s just … god, your pussy is perfect.”

His eyes are back on your aching core. Rolling your little nub in between his fingers, he suddenly gives it a hard pinch. Your mouth hangs open, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm hits you full force like a truck. Caleb leans forward, gently holding your hand and pressing quick open mouthed kisses onto your clit as your body shakes from the high. And then there’s another pressure building up in your abdomen.

“Oh god – Caleb, I feel weird down there – like I need to pee – “ you try wriggling away from him, but Caleb grabs your hips and firmly holds you down to the bed as spurts of clear liquid gushes out from your cunt. And Caleb – humming contentedly as he laps it up, making sure to not let a single drop go to waste.

Your face feels hot as Caleb looks back up at you, his eyes all round and shiny and a soft smirk hanging on his pretty lips. 

“That was your first time squirting, wasn’t it, pips?” He teases. “I make you feel that good?” He’s holding you up now, propping you up on the bed. Your legs feel shaky and weak as you slump against him, exhausted from your high. He circles an arm around you, the muscles on his arm flexing imperceptibly. You harrumph indignantly, resting your head on his broad shoulders. But Caleb, who’s so enamored by you and your sweet pussy, already has his hands snaking down your body to your heat once more, fingers tracing along your slit and deliberately pressing against your entrance.

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❀❁✿

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Rotten Apples, part 10

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

part one , part two , part three , part four , part five , part six , part seven , part eight , part nine

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

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

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

word count: 10.5k words

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

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

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

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Things weren’t the same after the wedding.

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

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

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

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

It wouldn’t be the only time it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The cloud that hangs above your head grows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A break, though? It sounds nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

“Lumpy?!”

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

“Is this pick on Caleb day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agreed,” you breathe out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I’m sorry—”

“So you don’t want want to go on a—”

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

“So now you don’t want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on,” he says in a low tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m tired Caleb,” you sigh.

“I am too but that’s okay!”

“I need to clear my head.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll stay with you—”

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

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

And Caleb? Caleb is the fool who believes you.

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

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

Bzzrt. Bzzrt. Bzzrt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? I want to make for sure that—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’ll take good care of her.

Caleb freezes.

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

The job targeted you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They walk towards you.

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

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

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

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

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

[bittencider]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb V

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 2000ish words. Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect flirting, a twist on jealousy, and—as always—plenty of banter and all those good vibes with the newbiedoobie. God, this has officially crossed the line into romcom territory

Parts: intial one shot, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6, part 7

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101 @zukini-01

Getaway car | Pt. 5

It’s early.

Too early for your brain to be doing anything beyond standing upright and not missing the bus.

You’re at the stop, earbuds in, clutching your travel mug like it’s life support, the morning chill threading its way through your jacket. Class isn’t for another hour, but study hall opens early, and you’ve convinced yourself that being proactive will keep you from spiraling.

Because you’re supposed to be thinking about contract clauses and international trade standards. Instead, your brain keeps looping back to apples. To charms. To the quiet ache of “when u come back” etched into metal and meaning.

You shake it off. Law first. Feelings… later. Probably. Maybe.

But then.

The scent hits first—aggressively expensive cologne that suggests he either bathed in it or lost a bet at Sephora.

“Morning,” Harv says, dropping in beside you like the sidewalk personally invited him.

Harv’s tall, clean-cut in that pre-law catalog kind of way—messenger bag slung across his chest, coat perfectly tailored, nut-brown hair slicked back like he definitely uses product and probably reads his textbooks for fun. Charming. The kind of handsome that gets approving glances from professors and moms.

You blink. “Hey, Harv.”

With a quick adjustment of his strap, he flashes an easy smile. “Didn’t think I’d catch you this early. Headed to campus?”

“Yeah. Trying to pretend I’m someone with discipline and structure.”

Harv laughs. “Faking it till finals, huh?”

“Something like that.”

The two of you get off the bus together and start walking from the campus stop toward the law building—light conversation, easy pace. The sidewalks are still damp, the morning quiet in that soft, almost-forgiving kind of way.

Harv says something about a practice quiz later this week, and you nod along, half-listening, half-focused on trying to stay awake.

It’s normal. Predictable.

Fine.

Until it isn’t.

Because there—up ahead—someone rounds the corner.

Caleb.

AirPods in, white hoodie layered under his black leather jacket, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets. That familiar walk—loose, confident, like he always knows exactly where he’s going… and that you’ll be watching him get there.

And you spot him before he spots you.

But the second he looks up, his steps slow—just a little.

His eyes land on you.

Then Harv.

Then back to you.

He pulls one earbud loose. “Didn’t know you were a morning person.”

You smile, adjusting your bag. “I contain multitudes.”

Caleb’s gaze flicks to Harv again, sharp but brief. “Heading to campus?”

The strap of his backpack shifts as he hikes it higher on his shoulder, like he’s about to keep walking—but then he pauses. Looks at you again. Lingers.

You wrap your hands around your travel mug, suddenly very aware of how lukewarm it’s gotten.

And then, smoothly—like it’s a reflex—he steps closer and leans in.

“Is that travel mug betrayal I see?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He plucks the mug right from your hands with an exaggerated frown, turning it in his palm like he’s inspecting evidence.

“You brought other tea onto my turf,” he says, feigning deep offense.

Caleb gives the string of your sad little store-bought tea bag a flick, the label fluttering like it’s personally offended him. “I’m wounded, Golden Girl.”

“I didn’t know I signed an exclusivity contract,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as you reach out to take the mug back.

Just a fraction closer now, Caleb leans in—fingers brushing a playful tug at your braid as he murmurs, “You didn’t read the fine print?”

You open your mouth—absolutely no thoughts, just spiraling—but Harv laughs lightly beside you, missing the edge.

“She’s got options,” he says, nudging your arm before glancing at Caleb. Then, without missing a beat, he snatches the mug right out of Caleb’s hands. “I’ve seen you at the coffee shop, right? Can’t expect her to stick to just one supplier forever.”

Caleb looks down at his now-empty hand, then back up—smile still there, but it’s taken on a razor-thin edge.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Caleb says, plucking the mug from Harv’s hand. He hands it back to you, casual as ever, like it weighs nothing. “I’ve got the cookies.”

You squint. “The what?”

“The bribes,” Caleb replies. “You remember. Cinnamon chip? Still undefeated.”

You’re about to make a snarky reply when Harv chuckles again, looking between the two of you.

“Man baking for someone? That’s dangerously close to being whipped.”

The air shifts.

Caleb’s smile freezes. Not dramatically. Just enough for you to notice. “Oh, right,” he says smoothly, voice cool and even. “Because effort is embarrassing.”

Harv blinks. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Caleb shrugs, but it’s sharp. “Of course not.”

Harv shifts beside you, clearly picking up on the tension but choosing confidence over retreat. “Well,” he says with a light laugh, “this got a little intense for a sidewalk meetup.”

Caleb doesn’t respond—just watches him, unreadable.

But Harv presses on. “Let’s start over, hm? I’m Harv,” he adds, stretching out a hand like it’s a peace offering. “From class. Future litigator. Occasional morning person.”

Caleb looks at the hand. Doesn’t take it.

Instead, his eyes lift to yours again—no teasing now, no flirt.

Just something quiet. Real.

And then Caleb clicks his tongue, almost like he’s made a decision.

“You deserve better tea,” Caleb says softly. “I’ll see you later, Golden Girl.”

Then he walks away.

You watch his back retreat into the morning light, one shoulder rolling as he pockets his hands—like your body hasn’t caught up to what your heart just did.

Then Harv—oblivious, unfortunately—pipes up:

“So, uh…” He nods toward Caleb’s retreating form. “Is that your boyfriend, or just your very intense barista-slash-personal baker?”

You blink. The answer is so obviously neither, but your brain short-circuits under this kind pressure.

So you do what you do best:

Lie.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say lightly, offering a shrug instead of a full answer. “Maybe he’s just having a weird morning.”

It’s just a stupid joke. A reflex. A weak shield. A small lie.

But Caleb stops.

Way down the block, already near the café entrance, he turns—just slightly—shoulders tight.

He doesn’t say anything.

Just glances back.

And you know he heard.

Harv keeps walking, launching into something about a mock trial and obligation like nothing happened.

But you feel it.

Still.

Behind your ribs.

The look he gave you.

The one that said: “Really?”

Your travel mug suddenly feels heavy in your hands. And for the rest of the walk, your tea tastes like regret.

——————————————————————————

Midday hits, and you’re still off.

You’ve been rereading the same paragraph of your contract law notes for ten minutes—something about standards and WTO frameworks that Professor Litt delivered like a dramatic monologue—and your tea still tastes like guilt. So you do the only thing that makes sense:

You text the newbie.

You: okay. so. caleb accused me of travel mug betrayal this morning. AND flirted. AND walked off like i ran him over with a civic… harv (guy from school) made a whipped joke and caleb left like… dramatically left

The typing bubble pops up instantly.

newbie: okay. first of all. i KNEW he was acting weird!! he’s been reorganizing the bakery shelf in alphabetical order … alphabetically… like a stressed librarian with biceps

You snort. Your heart still isn’t steady, but at least you’ve got the newbie to spiral with—by rapid-fire texting them like it’s a group project.

Until your phone starts ringing.

The newbie. Calling you.

They never call.

You don’t even think—you grab your phone, shoot a whispered “sorry!” toward Professor Litt, and duck out of the lecture hall like it’s on fire.

And you hit answer mid-stride.

“Everything okay—?”

But it’s not the newbie’s voice on the line.

“Hey,” Caleb says.

You freeze.

Outside. Hallway. Cold air. NOW.

“Uh. Hi?”

A pause.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird this morning,” he says, voice low. “But, uh… I have to ask.”

You lean against the wall, trying not to slide down it.

“Ask what?”

“That guy,” he says. “The one you were with. Harvey or Harvest or… something dumb.”

“Harv,” you correct automatically, then regret it immediately.

Caleb doesn’t laugh.

Another pause.

“I just… is that a thing?”

The silence stretches between you like a closing argument waiting for a verdict. But before your brain can spiral any further, your pre-lawyer instincts kick in.

“Wait,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see it. “Why are you calling me from the newbie’s phone? Did you steal it?”

There’s a short laugh—low and slightly smug.

“Saw them texting you. Don’t worry, tho. I asked nicely.”

“So theft,” you say. “With a smile. Classic barista distraction tactic.”

“I prefer strategic borrowing,” he replies. “And technically, they handed it over. Under mild protest.”

“TELL HER I SAID YOU’RE A MENACE—” you hear the newbie yelling in the background.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh. “Okay, so you hijacked the phone. For what, exactly?”

Caleb’s voice dips again, back to that careful, unreadable quiet.

“I had to ask,” he says. “About Harv.”

You pause.

Then your voice sharpens.

“Oh, you get to ask now?”

He goes quiet.

“Because last I checked,” you continue, heat creeping into your voice, “you never answered my question. About the charm. The necklace. The thing you wear every damn day. But I’m supposed to explain a guy who walked me to class?”

Another pause. Then—

“Well,” Caleb says dryly, “my necklace isn’t a six-foot-tall law student with cheekbones and a dick.”

You blink. Stare at a vending machine like it’s responsible for this conversation.

“That’s your defense?” you deadpan.

“I’m just saying,” he mutters. “He looked like a threat.”

“To what?”

“To… the chaos balance we’ve got going.”

You press a hand to your forehead. “Caleb.”

He sighs. “I know.”

And just like that—he sounds softer again.

Like he gets it.

Like he knows he messed up.

Like he’s been spiraling too.

“I just didn’t like seeing you with him,” he says quietly. “Okay?”

You press your back to the wall, head tipped up toward the ceiling like you’re negotiating with the fluorescent lights.

“Caleb,” you murmur, “I can’t promise you anything.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “I know.”

“All we’ve got right now is…” You trail off, trying to find something solid in the emotional soup of your life. “Vibes. Mildly reckless flirting. And maybe a new latte order with zero apple juice involved.”

There’s a beat.

Then—

“I have to give up the juice for you?” he teases, voice low and warm.

“Let’s not get sentimental about it,” you say. “It was a weird drink.”

On the other end, his laugh curls through the line—quiet, wrecking, unfairly good.

“I’m off in like ten minutes,” he says casually. “Was supposed to have… a… a date.”

Your stomach does a little tight twist. “Oh.”

“But…” his voice lowers again, almost sheepish, “I could be around. You know. If you stopped by.”

A pause.

“For the flirting. And the… non-apple-juice latte.”

You exhale slowly, a smile pulling at your mouth despite every warning your brain is flashing.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you say.

Which is law student code for:

I’ll be there.

And I might even stay.

You hang up.

And you swear under your breath.

What.

The.

Hell.

Cheeks burning as you slide down the wall, spine giving out like your body’s just as overwhelmed as your brain.

The tile is cold against your back, Professor Litt’s voice still echoing faintly through the door about GATS and international trade agreements, but it barely registers. You take a breath. Then another. Then—out of nowhere—you laugh. Quiet, disbelieving.

Because after all that? You still don’t even have Caleb’s number.

Eventually, you stand. Wipe your palms on your pants. Pull your expression back into something resembling composure.

Then you open the door and slip back into the lecture hall like nothing happened—like you didn’t just experience a full emotional mistrial in the hallway over a boy who smells like cinnamon and terrible decisions.

You slide into your seat. Professor Litt doesn’t even glance up as he drones on about WTO dispute settlements. And you do what any sane, responsible law student would do.

Pretend your heart isn’t still beating just a little too loud.

Your phone is still in your hand when the buzz comes through.

newbie: caleb is literally humming.

newbie: he just sang a taylor swift song to the steam wand. in falsetto. i don’t know if he’s okay. should i call a priest or just let him finish

You slam your forehead lightly against your laptop case.

From the front of the room, Professor Litt doesn’t even look up from his notes. “Careful with the dramatics,” he says, dry as ever. “Some of us are still pretending this material matters.”

A few students snort quietly. You sit up fast, mutter a half-hearted apology, and open your notes again.

Your phone buzzes. Again.

Time to spiral discreetly.

newbie: he’s got the soft apron fold today. you know the one. you’re doomed

You stare at the screen, cheeks still so warm, and text back with the last shred of dignity you have:

you: shut up i hate everything. i’ll be there in 20. tell the espresso machine to brace itself

Then you slide your phone into your pocket.

… And try very hard not to smile like an idiot the rest of the class.

——————————————————————————

Part 6

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Okey so confession time: This whole AU is basically built around one very specific arc that’s been itching my brain like a mosquito bite I refuse to stop scratching. I’ll get to it eventually, promise. TS’s Getaway Car is basically the gospel of Caleb’s brain until a certain point… and then—heh—there’s another song that’s like the final boss of inspiration for his arc. That one? That one comes later. And the law student? She might have picked the wrong barista to flirt with. I’ll shut up now lol.

You absolutely lovely, amazing people commenting, reblogging with the funniest tags (@blessdunrest, you crack me up every time), and liking the silly things I write. I appreciate you so much. Truly. You make sharing this chaos feel extra special. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻