sofiaswrittendelusions

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

guys should I write a part two 👀

“My wife.”

synopsis idea by: @starlitfool 🙏 “y'all remember when caleb had mc pretend to be his girlfriend back in college? i offer now to the caleb girlies council this consideration: mc pretending to be the colonel's wife at some farspace fleet gala/function/thing. thank u and goodnight”

The gala was a spectacle of power and politics, a glittering battlefield where words were weapons and alliances were forged under the weight of duty. Officers and dignitaries wove through the crowd, their conversations laced with veiled threats and rehearsed charm. It was the kind of event Caleb had attended a thousand times before—where appearances mattered more than truth, where strength was measured not in victories but in perception.

But tonight, none of it mattered.

Because you were on his arm.

Draped in elegance, fitting so seamlessly into the role of his wife that it made something dark and possessive curl inside him, something that had never truly left since the first time he heard you call yourself his.

It had started as a necessity, a calculated move—the Colonel’s wife carried more weight than any civilian could, allowed access, turned heads, ensured questions wouldn’t be asked. But it wasn’t the first time.

Years ago, when you were both younger, when his obsession was still something new and raw and barely contained, he had pulled you into his orbit with a simple phrase—play along, sweetheart. You had been surrounded by vultures then too, leering eyes and unwanted attention, and Caleb had hated it. Hated the way they thought they could look at you, let alone speak to you.

So he had intervened.

Wrapped an arm around your waist. Let his gaze burn through anyone foolish enough to challenge his claim. Felt something primal settle deep in his bones when you leaned into him, trusting him to play the part.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because there was no acting when it came to you.

He had never truly stopped seeing you as his.

And tonight was no different.

His fingers pressed against the small of your back, just firm enough to remind you that he was there, that you belonged beside him. The men he spoke with were high-ranking, powerful in their own right, but none of them held his attention.

Not the way you did.

You shifted slightly, polite smile never faltering as you listened to the conversation, but he felt the way you tensed when someone’s gaze lingered too long.

His grip tightened.

A silent warning.

You exhaled softly, leaning the smallest fraction closer, and it nearly undid him.

He had fought in wars, survived battles that left others broken, but nothing—nothing—unraveled him the way you did.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.

You inhaled sharply.

He felt it against his skin, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. The way you stiffened—not in fear, but in awareness.

And Caleb lived for it.

The night stretched on, a blur of empty pleasantries and strategic conversation, but his focus never wavered. Every time someone so much as glanced in your direction, his hold on you tightened. Every time your gaze flicked to his, searching for something—reassurance? Permission?—he was already there, already watching, already owning the space between you.

By the time the gala ended, he had you pressed against his side, guiding you toward the exit with the same quiet authority he always carried. You let him, falling into step as if it were natural. As if this wasn’t temporary.

As if you were his.

The car was waiting, sleek and dark, windows tinted to keep the outside world from seeing what was his to protect. The door shut behind you, locking the two of you away in the silence of the night.

For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Then—

You frowned slightly, glancing out the window.

“Caleb… this isn’t the ride to my apartment.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk. Not quite not one either.

“I meant our home,” he murmured, voice slow, deliberate.

The words hung between you, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

He watched the realization settle in, the way your body stiffened beside him, the way your breath hitched.

His gaze was already waiting when you turned to him, violet eyes gleaming in the dim interior.

And then—he leaned in.

Slowly.

A measured, predatory shift, invading your space without hesitation, letting his warmth, his presence, his ownership wrap around you entirely.

“You were my wife all night,” he murmured, voice deceptively soft. “You don’t want to stop now, do you?”

Your lips parted—whether to protest or to agree, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Because your body told him everything.

The way your pulse fluttered at your throat. The way your fingers curled against your lap, as if resisting the urge to reach for him. The way your breath caught when his hand—flesh this time, warm and possessive—tilted your chin just enough to keep you from looking anywhere but at him.

And then, quieter, more intimate—

“My wife wouldn’t leave me alone tonight.” A pause. A slow drag of his gaze down to your lips, then back up. “Would she?”

You swallowed hard.

And Caleb knew.

Knew that he had you again.

Just like before. Just like always.

But this time—

This time, he wouldn’t let you go.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“My wife.”

synopsis idea by: @starlitfool 🙏 “y'all remember when caleb had mc pretend to be his girlfriend back in college? i offer now to the caleb girlies council this consideration: mc pretending to be the colonel's wife at some farspace fleet gala/function/thing. thank u and goodnight”

The gala was a spectacle of power and politics, a glittering battlefield where words were weapons and alliances were forged under the weight of duty. Officers and dignitaries wove through the crowd, their conversations laced with veiled threats and rehearsed charm. It was the kind of event Caleb had attended a thousand times before—where appearances mattered more than truth, where strength was measured not in victories but in perception.

But tonight, none of it mattered.

Because you were on his arm.

Draped in elegance, fitting so seamlessly into the role of his wife that it made something dark and possessive curl inside him, something that had never truly left since the first time he heard you call yourself his.

It had started as a necessity, a calculated move—the Colonel’s wife carried more weight than any civilian could, allowed access, turned heads, ensured questions wouldn’t be asked. But it wasn’t the first time.

Years ago, when you were both younger, when his obsession was still something new and raw and barely contained, he had pulled you into his orbit with a simple phrase—play along, sweetheart. You had been surrounded by vultures then too, leering eyes and unwanted attention, and Caleb had hated it. Hated the way they thought they could look at you, let alone speak to you.

So he had intervened.

Wrapped an arm around your waist. Let his gaze burn through anyone foolish enough to challenge his claim. Felt something primal settle deep in his bones when you leaned into him, trusting him to play the part.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because there was no acting when it came to you.

He had never truly stopped seeing you as his.

And tonight was no different.

His fingers pressed against the small of your back, just firm enough to remind you that he was there, that you belonged beside him. The men he spoke with were high-ranking, powerful in their own right, but none of them held his attention.

Not the way you did.

You shifted slightly, polite smile never faltering as you listened to the conversation, but he felt the way you tensed when someone’s gaze lingered too long.

His grip tightened.

A silent warning.

You exhaled softly, leaning the smallest fraction closer, and it nearly undid him.

He had fought in wars, survived battles that left others broken, but nothing—nothing—unraveled him the way you did.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.

You inhaled sharply.

He felt it against his skin, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. The way you stiffened—not in fear, but in awareness.

And Caleb lived for it.

The night stretched on, a blur of empty pleasantries and strategic conversation, but his focus never wavered. Every time someone so much as glanced in your direction, his hold on you tightened. Every time your gaze flicked to his, searching for something—reassurance? Permission?—he was already there, already watching, already owning the space between you.

By the time the gala ended, he had you pressed against his side, guiding you toward the exit with the same quiet authority he always carried. You let him, falling into step as if it were natural. As if this wasn’t temporary.

As if you were his.

The car was waiting, sleek and dark, windows tinted to keep the outside world from seeing what was his to protect. The door shut behind you, locking the two of you away in the silence of the night.

For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Then—

You frowned slightly, glancing out the window.

“Caleb… this isn’t the ride to my apartment.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk. Not quite not one either.

“I meant our home,” he murmured, voice slow, deliberate.

The words hung between you, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

He watched the realization settle in, the way your body stiffened beside him, the way your breath hitched.

His gaze was already waiting when you turned to him, violet eyes gleaming in the dim interior.

And then—he leaned in.

Slowly.

A measured, predatory shift, invading your space without hesitation, letting his warmth, his presence, his ownership wrap around you entirely.

“You were my wife all night,” he murmured, voice deceptively soft. “You don’t want to stop now, do you?”

Your lips parted—whether to protest or to agree, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Because your body told him everything.

The way your pulse fluttered at your throat. The way your fingers curled against your lap, as if resisting the urge to reach for him. The way your breath caught when his hand—flesh this time, warm and possessive—tilted your chin just enough to keep you from looking anywhere but at him.

And then, quieter, more intimate—

“My wife wouldn’t leave me alone tonight.” A pause. A slow drag of his gaze down to your lips, then back up. “Would she?”

You swallowed hard.

And Caleb knew.

Knew that he had you again.

Just like before. Just like always.

But this time—

This time, he wouldn’t let you go.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

I’m actually so happy because Caleb is just like the Yandere obsessive possessive attached toxic mandplaining manspreading manipulative controlling dominating version of him I made up in my mind 😋

(He’s still just a baby girl btw)

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

3 seconds away from dissolving into ashes 💕

I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY REALLY MADE HIM MOAN PIPSQUEAK 😭😭😭😭

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

4:00

You wake Caleb from a nightmare.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀gender-neutral reader | established relationship, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff. soft couple-y things | ~0,4k words

A/N.⠀the last hurt/comfort wasn't enough I need to turn myself into mush

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Sleep doesn’t come to Caleb easily, and when it does, it’s not always one of peace.

His brows are knit together and his breathing is ragged as he squirms on his side of the bed, body tensing up until it’s trembling. You’ve woken up just a handful of minutes ago, having needed to use the restroom, but whatever traces of grogginess in your system is gone the moment you see him in the dim light.

“Caleb,” you whisper, gently shaking him. “Caleb, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

His eyes snap open and he gasps, taking in heavy, uneven breaths before staring at you wide-eyed. Sweat dots at the crown of his head and some of his hair sticks to his skin. His lips are parted and alarm is written all over his face. When he sees that it’s you, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief and clasps his hand on top of yours, squeezing it to keep himself grounded.

“It’s just a nightmare.” You gently brush his hair back with your free hand and cup the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheeks in what you hope is a reassuring manner. “You’re with me. It’s okay.”

Slowly calming down, he throws his head back and sighs again. The tension gradually leaves his body as he relaxes under your touch, his features softening with time. “It’s the explosion.”

You frown, intertwining your fingers with his. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

In a way that is quite out of character of him, he looks up at you with a pleading gaze, teary eyes staring into your own.

“Will you hold me?” he asks softly. He sounds so broken that it gnaws at you, heat rising up to your face as you clench your jaw, furious at who was behind the explosion—behind is death. You move into the spot beside him, finding a comfortable position before reaching your arms out, encouraging him to fall into you.

The anger seeps out of your body the moment you make contact. His warmth reminds you that he is here, alive and well, alive and yours. He rests his face on your chest, one arm draped over your waist as he shifts closer to you, holding on to you possessively. You press a soft kiss to the top of his head and rub soothing circles on his skin while humming a lullaby. It’s the same one he hums to you when you can’t sleep. Caleb has always had your back since you were little. He’s always looking out for you, always keeping you safe and protected.

This time, you return the love back to him tenfold. This time, you’ll be the one to protect him.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

"But Caleb is taking away Mc's autonomy—"

No. I'm taking away HIS autonomy. Everyday he's gonna fly back home to cook me a five star meal. There is a ring on his finger and the wedding is this weekend. He knows if he looks at another woman for too long I'm thieving his balls.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“You’re fine.”

synopsis: “You’re fine” is what he keeps telling himself, even if your life is at risk.

warnings: Getting shot, Being hospitalized, mentions of dying. Let me know if this fic needs another warning!

“You’re fine,”

Caleb told himself when he first saw you that morning, still sleepy-eyed and tugging on your boots like you weren’t about to walk into a firefight. He teased you, of course—called you “pipsqueak” just to see you roll your eyes. It was easier to laugh than to admit he was watching too closely, looking for any reason to keep you out of harm’s way.

“You’re fine,” he thought when you shoved him playfully, reminding him he wasn’t your babysitter. It didn’t matter how long he’d known you or how many times he’d patched you up as kids—you’ve got to stop worrying about me, Caleb. He hated how you said it with a smile, hated that you’d always been the braver one.

“You’re fine,” he muttered when the wind picked up and you cursed under your breath, your hands tucked into your jacket. He’d wrapped his arm around you like it was nothing, guiding you closer to his side. “You’d get lost without me,” he teased, his voice light even though his stomach twisted. You always felt too far away, even when you were right there.

“You’re fine,” he whispered as the mission started, watching you dart ahead with the same reckless confidence you’d had since you were kids. You always ran first, even back then, when he’d have to pull you out of trees or chase you down because you couldn’t sit still.

But you weren’t fine.

The shot hit you before he even realized what was happening.

“You’re fine.” The words tore out of him as he dropped to his knees, his hands immediately on you, pressing down hard on the wound in your side. Blood poured between his fingers, hot and sticky, and for a second, all he could do was stare. His jacket was soaked, his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

“No, no, no,” he rasped, shaking his head violently. “You’re fine. You hear me? You’re fine. This is nothing, sweetheart. Nothing.” His bionic hand cupped your cheek, trembling so badly the fingers clicked against themselves.

Your lips moved, but the sound didn’t come out.

“Don’t do that,” he snapped, leaning closer, his forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t pull this shit. You’re supposed to yell at me. You’re supposed to be pissed when I tell you I—” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

The evac team’s footsteps pounded toward him, but they felt miles away. Caleb tightened his grip on you, pulling you closer as if that would stop the blood.

“Stay with me,” he begged, his voice hoarse. “Come on, I’ve been through worse with you. Remember when you fell off that stupid rope swing? You’re the same idiot who broke her arm trying to jump that creek. You lived through that. You live through everything, because you’re—”

You went slack in his arms.

Caleb froze, his blood turning to ice.

“NO!” he roared, his voice ripping through the air. He shook you gently, his hand still on your face, his bionic thumb brushing your cheek like he could coax you back. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare leave me.”

The medics pulled you from him, prying his fingers away. He followed, shouting your name until his throat burned, until his legs gave out on the steps to the waiting room.

And now he was here, alone.

“You’re fine,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His head was in his hands, his shoulders hunched as he sat in the too-bright waiting room. The blood on his hands was dry now, flaking off in patches, but he could still feel it. Sticky and warm. Yours.

He was spiraling. The memories came too fast, too vivid.

“You’re fine,” he had told himself when you’d scraped your knees as kids. He’d laughed at how dramatic you were, sitting beside you on the curb as he pressed his sleeve to the tiny cuts. “Stop crying, short stack. You’ll live.”

“You’re fine,” he had said when you’d broken your arm, tears streaming down your face as he carried you back to the house. “I told you not to jump. You’re an idiot, but you’re fine.”

“You’re fine,” he whispered now, rocking slightly, his bionic hand clutching the back of his neck. His voice shook with every word. “You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine—”

The door opened.

Caleb shot to his feet, his breath catching as the nurse stepped in. “She’s stable,” she said, and he swore the world tilted under him.

He barely heard the rest. He stumbled into your room like a man possessed, his knees nearly giving out when he saw you.

Pale. Too pale. But breathing.

“You’re fine,” he rasped, dropping into the chair beside your bed. His hand hovered over yours before he finally grabbed it, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re fine,” he repeated, his voice cracking as he bowed his head, his bionic fingers trembling against your skin.

But the words weren’t for you anymore. They were for him. Desperate and hollow. A prayer he didn’t know how to stop saying.

a/n: I decided to keep tagging my fics as the other love interests because WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 29 LIKES IN 4 HOURS? WHEN I PUBLISH MY FICS NORMALLY I GET AT LEAST 100 😭😭😭

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

why tag rafayel in caleb fics 😭

oh that’s because Caleb isn’t a popular love interest yet 😭😭 I’m sorry if that bothers you but I’m sure that if I just tagged my fics as Caleb x reader they wouldn’t reach a lot of people ☹️ (my writing isn’t that good) so uh yeah that’s the main reason

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

what if caleb always knew that josephine collaborated in the potential horrors of his and mc’s childhood, and so only pretended to see her as grandma to appease mc’s oblivion. so in caleb’s eyes, he never saw him and mc as a family in a conventional sense since he never saw grandma as a real and trustworthy mutual caretaker of him and mc. he sees himself and mc more bonded by the mutual trauma they both endured since they were kids, and initially as a kid he wanted to protect her because he liked and loved her as the only companion who truly understood him. this grew into an obsessive love, rooting from his somewhat obsessive protective mechanism to keep his guard up to his ‘lovely’ grandma SINCE HE WAS YOUNG to protect both him and mc. that’s why “i was was never your brother” ->-> more of an extremely loyal passionate protector

like seriously can you imagine the extremely intricate bond between someone who has protected another their whole life since they were young, shielding them from the true trauma of their joint past?? caleb almost sorta lived like one of kids who get stranded on an island and see their crush as the only other person in the whole wide world, developing an extremely strong complex bond with them, unfathomable to anyone else who lived a more normal life (meanwhile he has to save face to josephine, don’t forget). but of course since only caleb knows, this is an unrequited sentiment. mc is his world since he was young, and he’s been protecting her all along… seriously, can you imagine the pain?????

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

girl I literally LOVE all ur Caleb content I want MORE n I hope it's not just a oneshot bcs ur writing is AMAZINGGGGG 😭😞😞😞😞

AHHH TYSM IM TRYING TO POST DAILY BUTR WRITERS BLOCK IS A BITCH 😭😭😭 do you have any ideas though? Maybe for a series or some connected one shots? I WOULD BE SO GLAD IF YOU SENT ANY ON MY ASKS

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

not people reblogging my fics as “Caleb fluff” while it’s the most deranged, unhinged, Yandere, possessive, degenerated, obsessive version of Caleb I can come up with 😭😭😭

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

Caleb is your best friend. He is laughing under pillow forts after bedtime, sick days swaddled in blankets before the tv, making faces to one another across the breakfast table, your favorite film, inserting the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, trading doggy-eared and annotated novels, lighthearted wrestling matches, getting pushed on the swings, fought over birthday candles, wiping your tears afterwards, kisses on bandaids, a collection of hand colored birthday cards, nail polish stains on hardwood floor, hand-me-down winter gear, the public library, chilly mornings before a field trip, vintage game consoles, playing with the snails in Gran’s garden, sending letters to santa, falling off your bike, the tune of an ice cream truck, the first day of school and the last day before summer break, swimming lessons, the burn of a hot metal slide, practicing makeup on him, the perfect mug of tea, homework sheet doodles, opening decision letters, conversations in nature, karaoke duets, carrying your backpack on his shoulders, fixing a necktie before a school dance, car rides home, a home cooked meal, your hometown animal shelter, walkie talkie conversations, your first kiss, knocking snow off your boots, sharing a pair of earbuds, pinky promises, a pinned contact, “this reminded me of you”, gift shop keychains, middle school phases, tripping on the ski lift, inside jokes, early springtime, falling asleep in the car, your first heartbreak, shoes left at the door, a cup with two toothbrushes, becoming confident in your smile, home. 

And though you’re both well into your adulthood by now, you will always belong to one another. Amid the many changes during your development, some things will always stay constant. There are things that will always make you think of him. There are moments that will always and only belong to just the two of you. With Caleb everything is the way you want it to be. 

perhaps my most self indulgent and personal work so far.. i am simply.. homesick and nostalgic. ik it isn’t super relatable but i hope everyone can find something that applies to them. caleb come home pleasee...

divider by xinwntr

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“His to break, his to save.”

synopsis: “He pushed you, Caleb made him kneel.”

Warnings: Silly little unhinged Caleb 😍

The shove is small. Almost nothing.

But to Caleb, it’s everything.

You stumble against the cold wall, your hand gripping the edge for balance as the junior officer brushes past without so much as a glance. His tone is clipped, dismissive, dripping with condescension.

“Watch it,” he snaps, like you’re the problem.

You freeze, heat rising to your cheeks, your chest tightening—not just from the lingering ache of therapy, but from sheer indignation.

Before you can recover, before you can even open your mouth, the air shifts.

You feel it before you see it—an electric weight pressing down on the room, the hum of tension thick enough to drown out every other sound.

Caleb.

He’s standing just behind the officer, his frame casting an impossibly large shadow across the corridor. His uniform is pristine, the insignia of his rank gleaming like a warning. But it’s his face—the eerie calm of it, the glint of something feral in his dark eyes—that makes your stomach twist.

The officer notices too late.

“You.” Caleb’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and cold, like the first strike of a blade.

The officer turns, blinking in confusion. “Colonel?”

“Come with me.”

The words are simple, quiet, but there’s a weight to them that silences everyone in the hallway. The other personnel scatter instinctively, avoiding Caleb’s gaze like it might burn them alive.

The officer frowns, his confidence faltering. “I don’t—”

“Now.” Caleb’s tone doesn’t rise, but it doesn’t need to. There’s something in it—a promise, dark and unrelenting—that makes the man stiffen.

He glances at you, then back at Caleb.

“What’s this about?” he asks, trying to sound casual but failing.

Caleb doesn’t answer.

Instead, he steps closer, the air growing heavier, suffocating, as though gravity itself has turned against the room. His bionic fingers flex at his side with a faint, menacing whirr.

The officer swallows hard.

“Colonel, I don’t see why—”

“Move.”

The single word is a growl, low and venomous, and it’s enough to make the man flinch.

Caleb doesn’t wait for compliance. He turns sharply, striding toward a nearby storage room without sparing you a glance. The officer hesitates, glancing around for backup, but no one dares intervene.

The door hisses shut behind them.

The air inside the storage room is oppressive.

Caleb stands with his back to the door, his presence filling the space like a storm ready to break. His eyes lock onto the junior officer, sharp and unrelenting, and the silence stretches so long it feels like the walls themselves might collapse under the weight of it.

The officer shifts uncomfortably, the tension clawing at his throat. “Colonel, I really don’t—”

“Kneel.”

The command is quiet. Soft, almost conversational.

The man blinks, confused. “What?”

Caleb tilts his head, his lips curving into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I said kneel.”

There’s no explanation. No preamble. Just the word, hanging in the air like an unspoken threat.

The officer’s confusion morphs into irritation. “Colonel, I don’t think—”

“Good,” Caleb interrupts, taking a single step forward. The floor seems to groan beneath him, the gravity in the room shifting ever so slightly. “I don’t need you to think. I need you to kneel.”

The officer scoffs, trying to mask his unease. “With all due respect, I don’t—”

The air snaps.

Suddenly, the man’s knees buckle, the invisible force slamming into him like a tidal wave. He collapses to the floor with a grunt, his hands bracing against the cold metal as he struggles against the weight pressing down on him.

“What the hell is this?!” he gasps, his voice cracking.

Caleb crouches in front of him, his smile widening into something predatory.

“This,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with mockery, “is where you belong.”

The officer’s arms shake, his breath ragged as he fights to lift himself, but the weight is too much. He’s pinned, helpless, as Caleb leans in closer.

“You shoved her.” Caleb’s voice is soft now, dangerously so. “You told her to watch it. Like she doesn’t matter. Like I wouldn’t know.”

The man stammers, his voice trembling. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” Caleb snaps, his bionic hand twitching at his side. “You meant every second of it. Now you’re going to apologize.”

“I’m sorry!” the officer chokes out, his face burning with humiliation.

Caleb’s head tilts further, his smile turning cruel.

“Louder.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Pathetic,” Caleb murmurs, his tone thick with mockery. “Do it again. This time, maybe pretend you have a spine.”

The man’s voice cracks as he repeats himself, louder, more desperate. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have—”

“Good boy,” Caleb purrs, standing to his full height.

The weight lifts suddenly, and the officer collapses fully, gasping for air.

Caleb doesn’t wait for him to recover. He turns toward the door, his voice cutting through the silence one last time.

“Crawl out of here,” he says flatly, not even looking back. “Before I change my mind.”

The officer doesn’t hesitate.

Caleb watches him scramble out, his grin sharp and unhinged, before stepping into the hallway where you wait, oblivious to what just happened.

He softens instantly when he sees you.

“Everything’s fine,” he murmurs, placing a gentle hand on your back as he guides you away. “No one will bother you again. I made sure of it.”

You don’t ask what he means.

And he doesn’t tell you.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

”come to school with pijamas day” ahh pants

Xavier and his ugly ass purple pants 🥰

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

637 words. hurt no comfort. unedited, not beta read. reader is gender neutral. reader has rsd. caleb dealing with the weight of the consequences of his actions. | i blame lola young for this anguish. i cried all throughout writing this.

I don’t want to be with someone who makes me feel like this.

It’s what you tell Caleb mid-meltdown. Your back was to the wall, shoulders slumped and entire form trembling. Your chest ached with with a pain you only remember feeling whenever you wailed as a child, over your powerlessness to help a stray animal.

(Or when Caleb “died.”)

You had looked at him with a contemptuous grief, an expression that haunts him, even when he closes his eyes. It hurts him, because he knows that you value honesty, for your future loved one to be honest and sincere. What he’d done goes against everything you stood for. You didn’t deserve this. He never wanted to be the cause of your heart breaking, especially when it was bigger than your body.

How… can I even trust you? I don’t even know who you are.

In the present — your hands are still shaking the same way they were days ago. There was a considerable distance between yourself and Caleb as you stood in the grayed atmosphere of his kitchen. It was heavy downpour today, ironically heightening the awkward mix of emotions that enforced a lack of proximity.

Your dominant hand presses a knife down on some bunched spinach leaves. Thinning out the greens is normally a simpler task, but you were still on edge. You were stuck in your head with too many thoughts; on top of the endless, sleepless nights caused by your tears, you breathed life like everything was ripped out of you.

No matter how many warm showers you took, or how much you splashed water onto your face—it never comforted you. It never stirred you.

You would sleep in his bed, while he took the couch.

It only made things harder.

“...Hey,” Caleb calls to you stiffly, his voice cautious as his eyes soften towards you. For him, it felt like a crime to even look at you. “Let—me handle that, okay? You can just—”

“I can do it.”

You hiccup from the tightness of your throat, your voice hoarse. You continue moving the knife against the spinach, the blade’s subtle movements now the only sound in the deafening silence.

Your hands won’t stop shaking. They won’t—and you’re begging, pleading—

—because you’re not this helpless. You can do this. You can—you

don’t need

anyone else.

The knife clatters against the cutting board, and you sink to the ground. Your head falls into your hands, knees folding to your chest as you lean into the island’s cupboards. Your tears fall before you choke out a sob, and you find yourself numb to the sensation now. You want to stop feeling this way. You long for your heart to be at ease again.

Caleb is quick to join you on the ground, crouching before you.

His brows furrow in concern, and he gently reaches a hand out, “Breathe, breathe, it’s okay—”

“Don’t—don’t… fucking… touch me!”

Your outburst forces him back, and the gnawing guilt he’s been trying to suppress arises. It overpowers him greatly, and all he can do is sit back as he allows your anguish to consume you like this. After all, he has no right to be offering you words of comfort. Let alone feel your touch.

He has reasons for why he did what he did. Consequences be damned, he believed at first. But seeing what his actions have reduced you to in this moment—

Caleb hates himself more than anything. He hates that he used to be the one you’d instantly run to when you were in tears—in turn, he was the only one who never made fun of you for crying as much as you did. He was always there.

Now, he was everything but what you needed most.

A home.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

Synopsis: The kind of lover Sylus is. Without a doubt, he is only for you. You were the one who blessed him with life, so of course he lives for you.

Warnings: None.

Author's note: A little assurance for you, my readers. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Sylus is the type of man who will indulge your antics and play along. He does not care if anyone deems it childish or stares at him in judgement. If they get to you, he'll simply shield you away from the world and subtly encourage you to continue. Why should the opinion of others matter? At the end of the day, it is you who is happy. The things he does for you and with you are all so that he can see you smile. Keep your cheeks hurting from laughter; your voice is his favourite melody.

Do you want to drag him out onto Linkon's streets? He'll be just a step behind you, slowing down in pace so that he won't overtake you. “Unfamiliar territory”, he says, but the mirth in his eyes tells you otherwise. What if you want to get him to mimic a life of normalcy? Alright, then. Sylus will squeeze into your home— much too small for someone of his build and reputation. Just don't complain when he knocks over your things or gets too into playing househusband.

Sylus is the type of man who feels slightly annoyed when you are out of his sight for more than a few hours. Only to gradually grow even more irritated when those hours turn into days or weeks due to his busy schedule. His patience runs thin and he'll be quick to snap when things do not go according to plan. Signs of his irritability manifest in the furrow of his brows, eyes gleaming a vicious red. It feels as though his presence devours the space around him— leaving enemies choking on their own air.

The first thing he does when he sees you again is nearly crush you to death. Lovingly, of course. His arms cage you to his body, and you have no choice but to be ensnared in his hold. Though he remains silent, you know how desperately he needs you near. He'll breathe in your scent and savour your tender caress on his skin. Sylus is all that consumes your time until his next venture. A greedy man like him will not be satisfied with a mere few hours by your side. Be generous and spoil him with a little more affection, won't you?

Sylus is the type of man who gradually changes the more time he spends with you. Yes, he remains vigilant and is always five steps ahead. But he is less harsh when you are around to placate his cruelty. Less blood being spilled means Luke and Kieran can catch a break (they thank you for being there). This newfound leniency is mercy— it feels as though the N109 Zone is breathing in fresh air for the first time.

Back then, Sylus only did things alone. But now, he often asks you for your opinion or invites you to go somewhere with him. A new restaurant opened up, do you want to try it with him? Which of these auctions look more interesting to you? He'll get you something as well. Oh, he bought a new property. Go shopping with him and decorate it however you like. Both of your daily lives are majorly impacted by the other, you forget what it's like before him.

Sylus is the type of man who will do whatever it takes to be liked, if not loved, by you. Teach him how to be your most devoted, what he needs to do to earn a sliver of your attention. He will follow you until time ceases to exist. Only when his flesh and bones fail to stitch his essence back together will he give up searching for you. But even then, his love persists. Who is to say he will not love you as you are? Why else would he torture himself and wait for you, if not to love you?

Sylus who will fall in love with you over and over again. In different lifetimes, different bodies and stories. He will take the time to learn every different version of your soul as if appraising a gem and its many facets. For every new life, he knows that it is inevitable that he will suffer just to be within your gaze. Your soul is interlaced with his, and he carries you with him, always. This is the one thing neither of you can change about your fates. Soulmates; literally and figuratively.

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“Mine again.”

Synopsis: After rescuing you from your kidnappers, Caleb decides to teach them a valuable lesson: No one touches you.

warnings: Fem! Reader, no use of y/n, mentís of kidnapping and torture, Caleb kidnaps and tortured your kidnappers and tortures, mentions of death, medical inaccuracies

“Do you know,” Caleb murmurs, his voice almost gentle, “how long it takes for someone to suffocate when their lunges collapse under their own weight?”

The man’s body convulses against the invisible force pinning him just inches above the bloodstained floor.

Just enough to hurt.

Not enough to kill.

Not yet.

Caleb’s voice was calm. Too calm.

The kind of calm that came right before something broke.

The kind of calm that should have been a warning.

But the man dangling in the air couldn’t see it.

He was too busy choking. Gasping.

The invisible force twisted tighter around his chest, the gravity bending in on itself, pressing down—squeezing just enough to make every breath a battle. His legs dangled uselessly, arms pinned at his sides by a weight he couldn’t see, couldn’t fight.

But Caleb wasn’t watching his struggle.

He was watching his face.

The terror. The veins bulging in his neck as the oxygen drained too fast. The way his lips parted, bloodshot eyes wide, panicked, already searching for mercy.

But there would be none.

Not tonight.

Not after what this man had done.

Caleb’s face was expressionless as he knelt, close enough that the heat of his breath ghosted over the man’s cheek. His bionic hand flexed once, and the gravity shifted—just slightly—easing enough to allow one ragged inhale.

One.

And then—

Crack.

The weight surged back, hard enough to splinter ribs.

The man screamed.

It wasn’t satisfying.

It wasn’t enough.

Not when all Caleb could see—when he closed his eyes—was you.

Tied to that chair. Wrists torn raw from the wire binding them. Blood trailing down your temple. The way your chest had heaved, fighting for every breath, lungs damaged because of them.

Because of him.

He hadn’t gotten there fast enough. Hadn’t stopped them from hurting you.

But he could stop this.

And so he would.

The man coughed violently, blood speckling his lips as he convulsed under the weight.

Caleb didn’t blink.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” His voice was quieter now. Darker. “You watched her suffer. Watched her scream while you strapped her down and put your hands on her—“

“Please—” The word broke from the man’s throat, a shattered whisper, but Caleb twisted his fingers, and the weight surged again.

Cutting off the air.

The man’s body arched, bones grinding audibly.

Good.

Caleb leaned closer, voice lowering into something jagged.

“I felt it. Every scream you ripped out of her.” His breath hitched, chest heaving as the memory sliced deep, raw and bloody. “The videos. You made sure I watched—”

His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. The weight pressed harder. The man’s face purpled, veins bulging.

And still—

It wasn’t enough.

The bionic hand snapped forward, clamping around the man’s throat with mechanical precision. His boots never touched the floor. He couldn’t struggle.

Couldn’t run.

But Caleb wasn’t done.

His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper.

“She cried because of you.”

The pressure built.

A rib cracked. Then another.

The man sobbed, clawing weakly at his throat, his nails scraping futilely against the metal plating of Caleb’s grip.

“I should crush you right now,” Caleb hissed. “But that would be too easy.”

The man choked, barely able to speak now, his lips turning blue as his body spasmed violently. But the look in his eyes—the fear—was enough to keep him conscious.

Caleb made sure of it.

The pressure shifted.

Not just around the man’s chest now. Inside.

Gravity coiled deep beneath the skin, inside his lungs, pressing inward.

The scream that tore from his throat was ragged, primal—like his body was fighting itself, ribs straining against the collapse.

But Caleb didn’t care.

He wanted the pain.

Because it was nothing compared to the agony of seeing you like that.

Strapped down. Fragile. Bleeding.

Breaking.

Because he hadn’t gotten there fast enough.

Because he’d failed you.

Another rib gave way with a wet crack. The man was sobbing now, words incoherent, lips moving around gasped pleas for mercy—

And Caleb’s hand didn’t move.

His voice was a whisper.

“You deserve this.”

And then—

A sound.

Soft.

Barely audible over the man’s dying gasps.

Not from him.

From you.

A shaky breath. The sound of your body shifting from the next room over. Still weak. Still healing. Alive.

And the rage twisted into something worse.

No.

They didn’t deserve a quick death.

Not when you’d suffered for days.

The pressure around the man released all at once. His body dropped hard to the floor, coughing, gasping, clutching his shattered ribs. But he wouldn’t die.

Not yet.

Caleb loomed over him, eyes narrowed, voice cutting through the agony like a blade.

“You’re going to live.”

The man whimpered.

Caleb crouched lower.

“You’re going to feel every second of what you did to her.”

Because he wasn’t just ending them.

He was going to ruin them.

And he was going to take his time.