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rin-eko · 2 months ago

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Take Care of You - Caleb x Reader

Desc: Caleb taking care of you when you're feeling anxious and overwhelmed

Content/Warnings: light main story spoilers, non-sexual nudity, reader feels overwhelmed, comfort

WC: 2.4k

The silence was worrying.

Not a soul was in sight on the rumbling train speeding toward Linkon, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the track accompanied by the drizzling rain hitting the windows.

Caleb was the only one in this train cart this evening, and the dark grey sky seemed to match his mood just as the lack of the train’s usual noisy chatter from the public seemed to match the dead silence in his inbox.

He checked his phone again, where several messages still sat, bereft and unanswered.

4:05pm

Me: Pipsqueak, can I come to Linkon this weekend to visit ya?

4:15pm

Me: We can go to the old markets you love tomorrow and pick up some dinner ingredients on the way home. I’ll make your favourite :)

5:10pm

Me: Are you off work? Be safe on your way home.

5:31pm

Me: Hellooo? 🤨 Earth to pipsqueak..

5:32pm

Me: There’s no way an addict like you has lost her phone. What’s up?

5:35pm

Me: Is something wrong? I tried calling you. Call me back, I’m starting to get worried.

The messages continued until 7pm, at which point Caleb had just decided to get on the bullet train and head straight to Linkon, continuing all the while to text and call you. With every missed call and message left unanswered, the suffocating feeling in his chest continued to grow, his fingers fiddling as he stared at his phone, willing a message of… literally anything. A full stop would do at this point.

Another minute changed on the time, mocking him.

7:46pm

Me: I’m on my way to Linkon now. Call me.

His thumb scratched the furrow between his brows. Sure, your relationship had been… less than perfect since you the two of you reunited, but you always answered his messages, even when you were angry with him. This radio silence was agonizing. Flitters of panic seized his lungs as long minutes continued to tick by.

He forced himself to take a breath. You were most likely fine. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had just lost track of time while hanging out with your friends, or if you were currently collapsed in your bed after a hard work day, not bothering with either dinner or a shower. You were fine. You were fine.

He took another deep breath. He let it out. His hand flexed.

Should he just put a tracker on you?

…

Caleb’s strides sounded a lot more relaxed than he felt as he made his way to your apartment door, casually rapping on the door in his usual rhythm.

Silence.

His jaw tightened as he knocked again. And again.

Fuck, this shit isn’t funny.

He picked the lock and entered, greeted by more of that damned silence along with the dark living space. You were nowhere to be seen.

It wasn’t until he heard a small noise coming from the bedroom that his chest loosened slightly. He made his way there, pushing open the slightly ajar door.

You were in your room, dusting your shelves when you heard your name in that familiar, steady voice.

Your head snapped to the doorway, where he was leaning, arms folded across his chest. His hair appeared slightly messy, as if he had been running his hand through it, and his deep purple eyes held an intense glow you almost felt compelled to look away from.

You took out the one earbud you had playing classical music and frowned.

“Caleb, what are you doing here? You can’t just enter someone’s apartment like that.”

As soon as he had seen your face, the tightness in your jaw and your tired eyes, Caleb had recognised that something was wrong, but your harsh tone confirmed it.

That, and your death glare that would have anyone else shaking like a leaf.

But he only felt relief that you were okay, at least physically. He knew you well enough to know that glare was only a surface-level protection, like a cat arching its back with its hair standing on end in attempt to make itself look bigger.

But beneath that he knew something was wrong. Even when you tried to be strong, you always appeared so vulnerable to him.

“You weren’t answering my texts or calls, I was worried,” he kept his tone soft and soothing, but you were having none of it, your frown deepening fiercely.

“Do you seriously think that’s enough of a reason to just show up here and barge into my home without permission? What is wrong with you?” you were snapping at him, hissing at him, looking so, so pained and exhausted to him.

This was different to the petty fights you had occasionally been instigating with him since you reunited. At those times, he could tell you were just struggling to find a place for him in your life again. You wanted him close, but he had also hurt you. Perhaps your instincts were telling you he wasn’t what was good for you.

He didn’t mind when you snapped at him, recognising you were desperately trying to regain some semblance of foothold in your strange relationship neither of you could really put a label to anymore, so he rarely commented on it or argued back.

But this was different. You just looked exhausted, filled with a tension that didn’t allow you to rest.

Your head hurt.

It hurt, but it wasn’t a physical pain any amount of paracetamol could fix.

You didn’t understand. You rarely felt like this, so when you felt the lowness creeping in throughout the week, you figured it was manageable. Nothing a good meal and some rounds on the claw machines at your favourite arcade wouldn’t fix.

But now, you didn’t even feel like leaving the house.

Maybe it was harder for you to handle precisely because you rarely felt this this. You were at a loss. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you also didn’t know how to fix it.

And your head continued to throb, anxiety clouding your mind, only heightened when you started to worry that you would never be able to stop feeling this way.

Why had this happened? These pressures you couldn’t even name kept piling up. You were on the verge of tears from thinking and thinking and thinking some more, and yet unable to come to any solutions. You just wanted to stop thinking, for your mind to be quiet once more.

You wanted to scream into your pillow to drown out the noise in your mind. Scream until you faded into particles, peacefully floating around. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel this awful disquiet.

You cracked a half-smile. Were you reverting to your angsty teen years or what?

You sighed and dropped the cloth you were dusting with, muttering as you walked past Caleb toward the bathroom.

“Whatever, I’m having a shower. I don’t think I need to tell you to make yourself at home considering you’re already acting like this is your home.”

He stayed silent, watching you disappear into the bathroom and hearing the shower turn on.

Looking around, he decided to clean up a bit and make you dinner. Your apartment was as messy as ever, and after peering into the fridge and taking note of the minimal ingredients, he made a mental reminder to go out the next day to buy your groceries. You were always telling him not to worry and to stop treating you like a kid, but how could he when this is how you took care of yourself?

He sighed and grabbed some ingredients from your freezer to make you a simple hotpot, perfect for the rainy day.

However, when the hotpot was bubbling and ready, and you still had not emerged from the shower, his concern grew once more.

In your room again, he could hear the shower still running. He waited ten more minutes before deciding to knock on the door just in case you had… he didn’t know, drowned yourself in the shower, maybe?

His overprotective imagination knew no bounds when it came to your safety.

You didn’t respond so, despite your earlier scolding, he decided to enter the bathroom.

His heart dipped.

Through the condensation clouding the glass shower door, he could barely see your small figure, curled up in a ball in the middle of the shower. You held your head as the water pounded onto your back.

You didn’t see or hear him, focused on having the scalding water pummel you so you had no room to think. You didn’t want a relaxing, soothing shower, but one that would silence your mind because you couldn’t do it yourself.

He went to you, unable to do anything else. He couldn’t stand to see you like that. You looked so lonely and lost. He wanted to be your anchor. As many times as it took, even if it took forever.

You didn’t notice him even when walked further inside the bathroom, quietly grabbing a towel and opening the shower door.

You only looked up through wet, blurry eyes when he reached in to switch the shower off, wincing at the searing hot water.

“Staying in a hot shower for so long isn’t good for you,” he murmured, not an ounce of scolding in his voice. He stood tall above you, wearing a loose white tank tucked into faded jeans, white socks on his feet and his silver dog tag gleaming as if reminding you of something.

What? That he would always come home? That he would always be there?

You didn’t say anything, your wet hair sticking to you as he held out a hand to help you up before holding the towel open and looking to the side, considerate of your nudity.

You walked straight into the warm, fluffy towel, and he immediately wrapped it around you, holding you steady.

Still seeing you were dizzy from the hot shower and steam, Caleb picked you up, bridal carrying you into the cooler air of your bedroom.

There was no room for anger in you anymore, only pure exhaustion. Though you expected you wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight, just as you hadn’t been for the previous few nights.

You sighed and rested your head on Caleb’s shoulder, tucking your hands to your chest and quietly enjoying the little comforts such as the familiar rhythm of his confident yet relaxed stride. He gently deposited you on the bed before making his way to your closet to find sleepwear for you.

You remained lying down, head turned to the side as you blearily watched his figure.

He returned with an oversized shirt that could well have been his, and a pair of comfortable underwear, leaving to the bathroom while you dried and changed.

He returned with your hairbrush and dryer, gently helping you sit on the floor next to the bed so he could sit on the bed and dry your hair.

It was a routine the both of you were very familiar with, and for the first time in days you felt a tiny semblance of yourself returning.

Since you had reunited with Caleb, you had become reluctant to rely on him as had become second nature to you growing up. As for Caleb’s second nature, it was taking care of you as well as everything you yourself should be taking care of.

So having you finally rely on him for something again, even as small as drying your hair, sparked a new light of hope and affection within him.

The only sound in the room was the comforting whir and hum of the hairdryer, sending waves of warmth to your head and skin. His legs remained comfortingly on either side of you, and you rested against one, hands fidgeting in your lap.

After a while, he switched the hairdryer off and used the towel to gently dry the water in your ears. He smoothed your hair up into a loose bun before helping you up onto the bed once again.

You immediately burrowed into your pillows, kicking the blankets over yourself.

He sat beside you, stroking your hair.

“I made food, do you want to eat?”

You shook your head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispered. You sensed he was about to get up and quickly grabbed his hand.

“Caleb,” you croaked. “Don’t go.”

What anyone else may have been annoyed with, or held against you, he never did, taking your quick-changing attitude in stride.

He smiled lightly and tightened his hold on your hand for a brief moment. “Don’t worry, pipsqueak, I’m just turning the lights off.”

He returned to the bed once the room had darkened, only the glittering city lights outside providing small light grids around the room.

You both lay under the covers, facing each other. His arm loosely wrapped around your waist, your hands tucked against your chest.

He stroked your waist soothingly and started, “I… know I am the reason for your stress and sadness and-”

You immediately shook your head and buried tighter to his chest, speaking muffled into his shirt.

“No. I mean, yes, but not this… usually I’m fine, but just the past few days I’ve been feeling… I don’t know… and I don’t know why, either. I just want my brain to be quiet.” You were so tired, and it reflected in your hoarse, forlorn voice. You were desperate for some peace, were helpless against this thing that had gripped and trapped you. You felt blocked from any good emotions, wanting to recover them but unable to feel them as you usually could.

You held your head. “It’s so noisy,” your voice cracked, broken. Tears stung your eyes, running down your temples as you peered up at him.

Hold me tighter, and his strong arms immediately squeezed you.

His chest tightened painfully. He wanted to protect you from everything, but how could he solve what you were feeling?

“Can you… stay the weekend?” you murmured.

His lips brushed your forehead. “Of course. I won’t go back to Skyhaven until you feel okay.”

He wanted you to need him, to rely on him, but not like this. He detested this invisible cause of your pain. Hated that he couldn’t see it and feel it in his hands as he rid you of it so you could return to your bouncy self. He would take any arguing over this, would rather be Caleb-the-Loathsome so long as you didn’t lose the spark in your eyes.

Your eyes were already dipping when he spoke again, with a quiet conviction you somehow caught between dreams and reality, his breaths comforting against your hair.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he murmured. “Relax and let go for as long as you need.” You felt the whisper of a light kiss press to your head.

“I have you, always.”

You drifted to sleep.

#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #rins.works

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rin-eko · 2 months ago

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New Intimacy - Caleb x Reader

Description: First time with Caleb and the morning after

Warnings/Content: some light story spoilers, nsfw themes

WC: 3.4k

Caleb, who goes manic the first time he sees you naked. Not even fully naked, just your breasts peaked with tight nipples, skin so soft but not as soft and vulnerable as your shaky eyes focused on him in the dim light of his high room in Skyhaven. His brain completely short circuits.

The dark curtains are still drawn open, giving way to the glittering city lights outside, the two of you on his bed above it all and in a position you have never been in before.

All of this, the two of you have never done before.

And it’s strange, because he’s seen you in every other way imaginable. He knows every part of you, perhaps better than you know yourself. He was there when you were ten and got a wad of bright pink bubblegum stuck in your hair, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice but still carefully and gently untangling it for you, cutting your hair neatly when the task proved impossible.

He was there when you got your first period, speaking to you in calm tones through the bathroom door as you freaked out on the other side. Always ensuring you had enough supplies, that you did nothing but relax while watching movies during those difficult times, his big, warm hands gently massaging your stomach to soothe the cramps away.

He was there when you got drunk for the first time, pressing two fingers deep in your throat to make you gag out the poison into the toilet while holding you up and promising your pale, clammy face that he wouldn’t tell Gran. And then the next day, threatening to tell her if you didn’t do the dishes for him.

He had been there for you through quite literally everything. Growing up, you had followed him everywhere like a little duckling. Even as adults, your closeness showed in the way you only had to briefly make a gesture, or just open your mouth and Caleb was already answering you, knowing what you wanted or what you were going to say. Your closeness shows in the cadence of your voice, your speech, so similar to Caleb’s. All the slang you’ve adopted was from years of hearing it from him and naturally integrating it into your own manner of speaking without even realising it.

But he doesn’t know this part of you. He has never seen you like this, with sticky, dewy strings of arousal between the junction of your soft thighs. With small gasps and moans escaping your kiss-swollen lips, hands that were hesitant at first gripping him in ways you never had before, in places you never had before.

You’re no better than him. Not for the first time, you have to reconcile with yourself that Caleb is no longer the teasing boy from your childhood, but a full-grown man. And he’s so big… everywhere. Your eyes dip low between your bodies before quickly shooting back up… a small, sharp inhale… You demurely look to the side.

He’s so… big down there. Thick and long, even his balls heavy and swollen with semen. Beneath his navel is a short, dark trail of hair that reaches low.

And you aren’t a girl anymore. He’s thought of this moment so many times, played it in his head over and over but now he feels a brief flash of anxiety. Your most private place… while it certainly appears he’s gotten you wet enough, it’s so small…

Will he even fit?

He’s deeply researched sex and knows the anatomy of the female body but you struggled to take even his fingers…

But then a small snort somewhere between indignation, impatience and false bravado erupts in a way that is so typically you.

“Caleb, just hurry up!” you whine. “Don’t tell me you’re scared you’re gonna blow in two seconds? Well I have heard guys struggle during their first time so I won’t blame you, hehe…”

But then, when he really pushes inside you, tears immediately spring on your lower lash line. His entire body shudders, at the warmth, at your cuteness.

“Baby…” he holds the top of your head and soothes you with kisses on your lips and cheeks, fingers reaching down to circle your clitoris. You gasp into his mouth.

So big… he’s stretching you completely, going so deep his coarse pubic hair presses flush to your own.

You feel suffocated and liberated all at once. Blood rushes to your ears in rolling waves timed with his heavy thrusts.

Everything you both had been imagining for so long and now you really are split apart on him. This person who you have known your whole life. Who taught you everything you know. What love is. How deep and twisted and also beautiful it can be.

So is it screwed up or only right that you also teach each other how your bodies should come together now that you’re adults, free to do as you please? Or rather, uncaring to restrain yourselves anymore.

He groans, long and low. He was prepared to never have this. He would have waited or restrained himself forever if he had to, but now… he doesn’t know if he could go back to the way things were before. Without this warm, wet heat within you and surrounding you in something you aren’t even sure you can describe simply as sex.

…

Caleb’s home doesn’t allow for a lot of sunlight, but perhaps the sun has decided to mimic your mood because you wake to find soft, pale yellow rays casting streaks of light through his window, warming the room in patches.

Your eyes blink a few times to adjust to the light, and in response to your awake state, the man holding you tightly from behind releases a shuddering exhale. You moan, mind still in a groggy place somewhere between dreams and reality, but you hold his forearm wrapped around your waist, stroking lazily.

You both bathe in the silence for a while, somehow both happy yet nervous. You, because you’re worried he’ll go back to acting like a friend or brother in an effort to put some distance between you and protect you. After all, there were things he knew that you simply didn’t. Or perhaps he’d be walking on eggshells, afraid of messing up the newfound intimacy the two of you had discovered last night.

Him, because he worried you’d regret it. And if that was so, he wasn’t sure how to deal with that pain. If he’d be able to tuck it away and carry on confidently as usual.

You take the initiative to turn around in his embrace, chests flush against each other. His hand strokes your tailbone in small motions. Quiet. Then,

“Last night-”

“I think-”

You both pause, and then smile softly. You tuck your head to rest your forehead to his throat, tracing his bicep idly. “You first,” your voice is shy and adorable.

He inhales deeply. “I just… I just wanted to say that last night was more than I ever imagined…” he exhales in that full-chested way you love. “God, baby, it was amazing, I don’t know what to say.”

Your entire chest melts. Saliva pools in your mouth. Something tightens from your lower belly to the place between your legs.

You swallow and look up to meet his dark purple gaze. “Me… For me, too.”

“Yeah?”

You hum because anything else you say might just come out as a wanton moan.

A part of Caleb can’t believe it had actually happened after so long imagining it in the deepest, most shameful parts of his mind. But you really are beside him, your smooth, bare skin pressed to him, your hair messy with the evidence of last night, your neck littered with his love bites just like his back is with your nail scratches. He loves it.

So, so much.

He strokes the back of his finger down those love bites now, admiring his work. “Ah,” he starts sheepishly. “Ya may need to cover these up when you go out.” But you both know he doesn’t really want you to. Go out, or cover up the hickies, that is.

And as much as you complain, you don’t really mind. You like everything from him, whether it be reassurance or teasing, because you know there is nothing about yourself that could ever change his heart even fractionally.

So comforting.

You aren’t sure how to describe the night. Whether it was rough or deep or loving or painful or maybe all of it meshing together in one storm of sweat and yearning and flesh and immeasurable deep love exploding after being hidden away for so many years, just like the old time capsule you and Caleb had buried when you were kids.

You, subconsciously, living in ignorance, having long accepted him as a brother figure in your childhood. And him, always knowing, but never able to do anything about it. For fear of others, for fear of losing you, of no longer being able to protect you.

Whatever it was, it had been a long time coming.

After so long holding back, this gorgeous, talented, sought-after man is yours in every way. Even if you’ve always had him, even if words like ‘girlfriend’ or ‘partner’ or ‘soulmate’ shouldn’t matter and can’t possibly describe the depth of your bond, it still sends a shiver of delight up your spine. You definitely want that. Will greedily snatch those titles up and keep it to yourself for eternity, just as you wished to when he would have you play his pretend girlfriend all those years ago.

His huge hand reaches down and covers the whole of your most intimate area. “Your pussy sore?” His finger dips down just to very lightly brush the top of his middle finger against your entrance before coming back to rest on your pubic bone. And you wonder if you’ll ever get used to him speaking about such intimate parts of yourself in that voice you’ve adored for so long, the voice that has guided you your whole life, slightly rough with morning sleep. The same voice that used to tell you ‘Pipsqueak, breakfast is ready!’ every morning and ‘Sweet dreams, little one’ every night.

It was the same last night. You were sure your whole face was red when he had started groaning as he thrusted. Uncontrollable, delicious, deep moans causing tingles throughout your whole body all the way down to your curled toes. Grunting in exertion as he slightly shifted your positions to penetrate even deeper. You had never heard him like that. Had never thought there was a part of him you didn’t know. Even as an adult, you were inexperienced, so he was your first. And when you asked if you were his, too, he chuckled a little, a lovely rumbling sound from the depths of his chest and kissed your forehead affectionately.

“Of course, my only.”

You wanted to unravel this new side of him for the rest of your life.

But a small memory makes a crack in a barrier of your mind, emerging like a seed sprouting from the ground. You squint, trying to catch the thought.

“Actually… I think I’ve heard you moan like last night before… You were in your childhood bedroom…”

The pained, embarrassed way in which he groans and slings an arm over his eyes, laying on his back now, is your answer.

You tease him. “Wow, I guess you were really horny as a teenager. You actually spent a lot of time in you room with the door locked. Your showers were suspiciously long, too, now that I think about it… And you always used to tell me I took so long getting ready but you were actually the culprit who made Gran’s water bill shoot up!”

He peeks out from his arm, one eye glaring at you. “Fuck’s sake, you’re such a brat. Can you blame me? Going through puberty while living in the same house as you was hell. Sometimes I thought I was going to rub myself raw. I must have made more noise than I thought because one day you came innocently knocking on my bedroom door, asking if I was injured of all things.”

You giggle and let it settle in your chest that he really had felt the same way as you for as long as you have. While you always felt it deep down, having the feelings liberated and out in the open is a wonderful feeling you’ll have to get used to.

You stroke his bare chest, just below his collarbones, aware of your naked lower bodies touching and twining beneath the covers. Neither of you are used to touching each other like this and it shows in the light dusting of red on his cheekbones before he also reaches to stroke one arm up and down your bare waist in a soothing and casual manner. You can feel he wants to say something, and after another moment’s hesitation, he speaks up, voice purposefully light to try and disguise how curious he really is.

“You… never did it to the thought of me?”

Your immediate pause, accompanied by flushed cheeks, are his answer. You bury your face in his sternum, collapsing in a heap of humiliation. He chuckles. “Glad I wasn’t the only one, baby.” His head tilts slightly in thought. “Hmm… now I kind of want to see that, though.” He grins cheekily when you lightly slap his chest, satisfied with your reaction to his teasing.

You both quiet down again, enjoying being with each other like this. He strokes up and down your abdomen comfortingly and you count the freckles on his body until you’re forced to halt when his hand makes its way down… down… to your sex once more. He touches the neatly trimmed hair there and rubs it. He hums in thought.

“When you’re shaving, or trimming, here next time, let me do it.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I always used to shave the back of your legs while you sat on the edge of the bathtub. There were parts you couldn’t reach and you’d always cut yourself.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve grown up. I’ve learned how to do it safely.”

“Still,” he presses a hot kiss to your throat. “Let me.”

You don’t object because you’re sure you’ll end up liking the unique ways he dotes on you anyway, but when his fingers, long and thick, nailbeds neat and clean and cut short, travel lower to spread your lips, a small moan escapes you. Cool air touches your clit before his finger presses it lightly.

You’re breathing hard. “Caleb… what… are you… doing… ungh…”

Last night, he stayed down there for ages, memorising you. Your taste, your smell. And now, he seems just as fascinated with that secret part of you, rubbing you lightly in case you’re sore.

“I love this,” he says quietly. He gets underneath you, so your back is laying on his chest, your full weight on him. Your legs are spread wide over his, face next to his on the pillow, neck arching up when he circles your clit more firmly, hairline sticky and perspiring. Your arm naturally winds its way around the back of his neck while his other holds your waist, heated gaze full of smoke drinking you in completely. His dogtag, the same one that was hanging between you last night before he moved it out of the way to rest between his prominent shoulder blades, tinkles by your ear. You feel the cool metal against the side of your face just as one long finger enters you carefully.

You moan, unabashed, and hide your face in the crook of his neck, leaving everything to him as tension once again simmers and boils over.

…

The two of you spend the rest of the morning making love. Tenderly, closely, desperately. Your foreheads tightly press against each other, your legs tucked up, one hand around his neck while the other rests on his back as he moves between your thighs.

His gravelly voice keeps speaking to you,

“Are you sore? Is it okay? I love you, love you, love you… ah, I don’t know how to say what I feel for you…” he whispers and breathes into your mouth, face flushed and perspiring. He licks across your teeth, still raring to go even when you’re a satisfied, but very tired, slump on the bed.

He kisses and licks your closed lips, the drool at the corner of your mouth, the redness beneath your eyes. Like an animal licking and soothing its kindred, he can’t stop touching you. The sun moves through the sky but neither of you ever want to stop caressing and petting each other now that you finally fully belong to one another. It’s a level of pleasure, physical and emotional, unlike any other.

…

After spending too much time in bed and deciding neither of you wants to leave the house today, Caleb kisses your forehead and gets up from the bed, saying something about getting breakfast started even though it’s late in the day.

“You tired me out last night, pipsqueak, I’m starving.”

You watch his strong body move fluidly. As he searches for something to wear, he stretches his neck from side to side, the sound of two cracks seeming to satisfy his muscles.

He finds a pair of sweatpants and pulls them over his firm butt, remaining shirtless. He grins over his shoulder when he catches you staring and drooling at him.

He stretches his words, “Orrrrrrr, do you want some more of me?”

You grab a pillow and throw it at his face, but it stops short just before him and slumps to the ground. He laughs his way out of the room, the carefree, happy sound making your heart pulse quickly.

You take your time getting out of bed, finding a comfortable shirt of Caleb’s to throw on before sliding a pair of underwear- that you recognise as yours but have no idea why Caleb has it tucked in his draw- up your legs.

You meet him in the kitchen, admiring his muscular back before he turns from the stove to place a steaming plate of breakfast on the counter, catching your gaze.

“Just in time, pipsqueak. Order up.”

As he stands in front of the sink, dealing with pans and utensils, you brave coming up behind him and cuddling into his bare back, wanting one more moment of skinship before sitting to devour the food.

He freezes momentarily before his shoulder relax. He touches your hands around his waist that are resting over his stomach.

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Caleb, you know…”

“Hm?” he glances over his shoulder curiously. Rather than playful, your tone is more quiet and serious.

You take a small breath and whisper into the place between his shoulder blades.

“You are the only one for me, in any way, ever.”

He tenses.

Something you hadn’t expected from your dependable, strong and self-assured ex-adoptive brother, who was literally good at everything he did, was that he needed reassurance and was often unsure of the standing of your relationship. Of the way you regarded him.

He had always been trying to protect you, but not push too much, always trying to hold you without giving into his true desires. Always scrambling to learn everything so you’d only come to him for anything you needed.

For so many years, he had to make sure to maintain that delicate balance while you remained blissfully unaware of his internal struggles.

“That’s what you are to me,” you continue to whisper.

He turns against the counter and you go on your tiptoes to softly kiss his lips, speaking lightly against them.

“Everything. A brother, a friend, a guardian, a life partner.” He took on all the duties of these roles. Always unquestionably, always without complaint, always happily, even possessively, so you could always rely on him. So you would always know he’d be right there waiting if you turned to look. And even if you didn’t, still, he would do everything to make you happy.

Even after he had left, when he had returned and you had slowly become a part of each other’s lives again, you found yourself so easily slipping back into that role of having Caleb take care of you.

But now, you wanted to take care of him, too.

The person who you had both loved and hated, but always wanted with a desperation that made your entire body ache, your gravitational point.

#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #rins.works

320 notes · View notes

rin-eko · 2 months ago

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Sylus, who doesn't just call you kitten from the start, but also treats you like one. He can't help it. Not when you remind him exactly of a fierce, scraggly stray kitten, hissing and arching its back at him whenever he comes close.

After coming to understand how uncomfortable you felt around him, he decided to adopt a different approach to getting close with you. A less forceful approach- a plan you didn't realise was implemented even when you were finally pliant and comfortable around him like a relaxed fat cat.

He had to coax you, silently and gently encourage you to put away your claws and start trusting him.

When you were at the base and basically sticking to the opposite side of the room as him as if you were glued there, sometimes he'd pretend to be deeply curious about something in front of him, such as a book or artefact, and pretend to pour over it as he clicked his tongue softly.

As expected, and just like a cat, the sound would catch your attention, and when you realised he wasn't making the sound to gain your attention but just casually clicking his tongue because he was interested in something else, you would slowly approach with a little furrow in your brow. He tried not to laugh as you took slow steps around the edge of the room to come closer, you yourself pretending to be interested in other books and things to seem as if you just casually ended up near him, meanwhile you had been eyeing him from the corner of your eye the whole time, little interest in anything else.

Treats. You hadn't though deeply about why Sylus' pantries were stocked with your favourite snacks. After a few visits to his home, you would naturally make your way to the kitchen to grab your favourite treats without a care in the world, happily munching them like a stray cat that had been lured over by temptation.

At the base, you would also be able to find your favourite toys (the cool guns in his armoury) and your favourite games, such as kitty cards. The blankets and pillows in the guest room you stayed in were all made of your favourite soft material, so expensive it felt like sleeping on a cloud. Sylus even tried spraying his cologne in certain areas of the house so you would become accustomed to his scent.

When in his home, Sylus would make sure to give you plenty of alone time while still ensuring you were aware of his presence, so as not to intimidate you but also to make sure you knew he was around if you wanted to approach him.

And you did, sometimes peeping over his shoulder like a curious cat to see what he was doing. Or sitting on the kitchen counter watching him as he cooked. The distance slowly closed before you even realised it. But he knew, and he was torn between smugness and the happy trilling in his heart.

You remained blissfully ignorant as the comforts around you grew. You naturally relaxed into your surroundings and his presence, not even noticing Sylus had planned it this way from the start.

Even now, he watches you- in your own small home this time- lounging on a fluffy, pink bean bag situated in a spot of the living area that catches the sun's soft glows through the window, and can't help but liken you to a cat. Especially when the sun moves through the sky and your eyes crack open, an unhappy frown creasing the top of your nose because you are now in a shady spot and even with a blanket covering you, that will just not do.

He watches you stretch languidly, yawning, before dragging the bean bag to a new patch of sun and once again settling on it, falling into a comfortable nap once more.

He's come from the kitchen, and he approaches you to place a warm cup of tea beside you quietly. One of your eyes peek open to take him in.

"Sylussss," you whine sleepily, rolling onto your back. He squats in front of you and rubs the top of your head.

"Mm?"

You don't say anything else, just falling back into slumber, but he smiles and continues to pat your head. It's something he does often, and he wonders if you even realise that you've come to always expect these head pats, bouncing up to him when you're proud of something you've done and want his praise, waiting for his warm hand to tell you you did well.

Or when the two of you are just relaxing together, sometimes he'll scratch beneath your chin and you'll preen, lips twisting up in contentment and enjoyment, eyes falling shut as you lean toward him for more. You may as well have purred and rubbed against him in silent askance for more.

Of course, if you became aware of the fact he was treating you like a cat, you would start pretending to not like these small affections, so Sylus keeps quiet with his teasing.

Although, he thinks of how cute you'd be, turning away with a pout after discovering he had been treating you like a pet. He could almost see an imaginary tail flicking irritably. Maybe you'd even growl unhappily.

He chuckled quietly. Truly a kitten.

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #rins.works

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rin-eko · 3 months ago

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Tiny Scales ~ Rafayel x Reader

He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

Content: softness, pregnancy, childbirth in the ocean, non-canon mermaid depictions and biology

WC: 1.6k

Rafayel knows the due date is near. Knows that soon the oceans will be bustling and the waves will spread in welcome to the new heir of the seas.

He can see it. Sense it. He can practically taste it. In the same way he can sense turbulence amongst the choppy waters of the deep sea and taste the salt in the air.

And of course, it is also made obvious in your actions. You don’t notice all the changes happening within you and your subconscious, but he does, and he’s never felt more tender, more protective.

He sees how you want to be alone more often, just like a Lemurian female, often finding you nestled in the corner of your plush, shared bed, fast asleep and cradling your belly for long hours of the day.

Or sitting just at the edge of the private beach outside your home, right where the water meets the sand, knees tucked to your chest as you let the waves kiss your feet and wet your hem, something within you viscerally needing the ocean close in the same way he does.

He sees your enamoured exasperation when you rub your round belly that’s grown heavy and uncomfortable to carry. Notices how in some moments you crave him in ways you can’t help or explain, wrapping your arms tightly around him from behind, nuzzling your face into his back, wanting to crawl beneath his skin so much you’ll huff a sound of helpless frustration, quickly unbuttoning his shirt so you can press your face to his bare skin. His chest, his shoulder blades, his neck.

Throughout your entire pregnancy, you and Rafayel rarely leave the house. Before the small life had begun to grow inside you, you had thought you and Rafayel couldn’t possibly be any closer. You knew everything about each other, did everything together, your lives entwined so completely you could understand each other without words, could feel each other even when apart.

But during your pregnancy, when the two of you literally spent every minute of each day with each other within the safe bubble of your home, your relationship had once again transformed, morphing into something so deep, so infinite and everlasting you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, where or even if there was any separation of your lives anymore. You felt the air he breathed passing through your lungs, could feel the surrounding world through him and the little one nurtured within you.

As for Rafayel, you had never seen him more relaxed. He had forgone cutting his hair, instead letting it grow, the soft purple ends sweeping down his delicate, pale neck and grazing his shoulders. More often than not he forewent shoes and shirts, and almost always denied invitations or interviews from the world outside your bubble.

He devoted all his time to you and the child safely tucked in your womb, painting countless images of your pregnancy. You sleeping on the couch, one hand on your belly, your hair a mess around you. You standing in the soft morning light of the kitchen. You on the beach, wearing a thin nightgown and facing the silvery moon which casted mesmerising reflections along the inky water. The two of you lazed in bed during those months, rising when your bodies willed, lulling back into a deep slumber in the same way the tides ebbed and flowed.

Ten months. A little longer than a regular human pregnancy. Different from a regular Lemurian pregnancy, too. You weren’t laying eggs. The baby was alive within you, little movements tickling Rafayel’s nose when he spoke to your belly in the dim light of the midnight moon, the soothing sound of waves crashing outside.

“I can’t wait to meet you, my little love,” he would speak quietly in his ancient native language, pink lips softly forming beautiful words. He pressed his lips to your bare stomach and you stroked through his velvety hair in response, your thumb rubbing lightly just below his ear where small pearlescent half-circles could be seen. As your hormones changed and strengthened throughout the pregnancy, his instincts had responded keenly, and oftentimes his scales would erupt on subtle parts of his body before he could help it. You loved kissing those smooth patches, licking them, nuzzling them. You wondered if your child would have them, too. If they would take after their father’s kind or yours. Not that it mattered, the love you both felt for the child could surely sink through your skin and reach them, wrapping them safely.

And when Rafayel wakes after a little more than ten months to find the space beside him in bed empty and cold, he somehow knows.

He doesn’t bother checking for you in the house, walking straight to the beach outside where the sky is a light purple still glittered with stars. He stops at the top of the sand, the breeze whispering through his hair as he stares at the back of the figure swaying waist-high in the currents. Your body, your instincts, perhaps heightened by the Lemurian DNA inside you, have told you that this is the place and this is the time.

Rafayel is shirtless, the light material of his loose white pants sticking to his ankles as he walks into the water, to his calves, his thighs, his hips, right behind you. The waves welcome him in their embrace, acknowledging their god, and soon, the heir to them.

His arms wrap around you from behind and his eyes glow a bright blue-purple, everything within him vibrating as his mate lets out a small moan and leans back against him.

“Beloved, are you in pain?” he speaks right by your ear. His thumb strokes your swollen belly over your thin white dress. The gentle ocean swells pass by the two of you.

You make a small sound that says you are and hold the large hand resting on your stomach tighter, trying to concentrate on the first sliver of the sun’s light casting a tiny glow of yellow on the horizon ahead.

Your neck turns to nuzzle the size of your face against his bare chest, moaning lightly. He ducks his head down. You’re panting a little. “Raf… Rafayel… If this baby takes after you, I will be so happy.”

He kisses your temple, smells your hair and the ocean. “My love, you and this baby are my entire world.” There is nothing more important. Nothing more precious.

And as the first rays of sunlight warm the sand and cause the sea to glimmer like a thousand jewels, a little princess is born. Rafayel holds you throughout, letting you squeeze his hand as tightly as you need, cupping water in his palm to cool your sweating hairline. He rubs your dry lips and silently commands the waves to embrace you carefully, comfortably.

One last whimper and push from you and he feels your taut body sag back against his chest. Throughout the process, silvery-blue scales have emerged on his skin, below his eyes, at the column of his throat, along his forearms and ribs. Whenever he sees you in pain, and also, from his own excitement. And now, he sees a flicker of the same colour quickly splash the surface of the water before sinking a little beneath.

Still holding you securely with one strong arm, the other darts beneath the water, scooping something small and soft and smooth up in the other arm.

You’re both breathless as you stare at the amazing, beautiful creature. So small, with scales a shade lighter than Rafayel’s. So small that its head can fit on Rafayel’s palm. It looks half asleep and droopy, with little saliva bubbles gurgling from its mouth.

And the tiniest, cutest little mermaid tail you have ever seen, the end wrapped lightly around Rafayel’s forearms, the fluke of the tail wriggling slightly.

As if by pure instinct, Rafayel’s own tail stretches out, scales fluttering up his sides, gills emerging by his ears. He brings the baby to your chest for you to hold and you cradle her warmly as Rafayel carries you both deeper so his tail can comfortably stretch out without touching the sand below. He keeps you both afloat like that for a long while, the both of you just staring in awe at your daughter. Every perfect inch of her. You feel no pain, only completely and wholly connected to the sky and the sea and your little family.

The tiny thing blinks dazedly, eyes opening a little and you inhale sharply. A happy sob chokes from your throat.

“Darling,” you coo, reaching to stroke one soft cheek with the back of a finger, infinite gentleness and adoration swelling within you. Her eyes are purple like your beloved’s. A brilliant mixture of the rising sun pink and blues you only find in the depths of the ocean where ancient Lemurian statues still stand.

“Will she be able to change when she’s so little?” you breathe the question to Rafayel, dipping to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Mmm,” he cradles you and nuzzles the back of your neck. “If she spends long enough outside the water it will happen automatically. She will learn to control it as she grows.”

You imagine Rafayel as a child, learning the same thing, a stark contrast to the strong Lemurian holding you now, the large tail swaying in the water beneath you.

Rafayel’s chest feels so open and so full. He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #rins.works

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