#what if pip survived

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

thinking about how psychologically torturous everything dnp did was when dapg came back. like every upload had something that would cause irreparable psychic damage. like BOOM the phousepad!! BOOM framed final fantasy characters!! BOOM dan can’t shut the fuck up about phil having a phat ass!! they woke up every fucking day and chose extreme violence!! now i feel like i’ve built up a tolerance and i can take anything because of the absolute exposure therapy of a year it’s been since they came back. like sister daniel baking?? react to all pinofs?? the phan roblox videos?? that red carpet review video where they said the gayest sappiest nastiest shit that has ever been uttered by human lips?? and that was oct-dec 2023?? HOW ARE WE ALIVE

[pinofdnp]

dapg video tonight? please i'm asking nicely i'll pay you

[llyfrenfys]

I've been saying! You would not believe the shit that's been said directly to my face when I was in traditional employment that directly related to my disabilities. And that was while employed. Even if you manage to convince employers you're "abled enough" to be hired inevitably your disabilities will be disabling, the employer will cotton on and throw all compassion and "we're diverse here" out the window.

[aeyumicore]

caleb finds your prenatal gummies

how does caleb react when he finds the bottle of prenatal vitamins you’ve been taking—but not because you're pregnant?

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: caleb x female reader (afab) ━ ✧.˖ WORD COUNT: 1.9k ━ .ᐟ✧ WARNINGS: none really , pure fluff, but vague mentions of unprotected sex, talks of of pregnancy and having children, use of 'pip-squeak' ━ ✧.˖ LINKS: ao3 | twt

got inspired to write this as i was taking my supplements yesterday :') non-smut for a change ahhhh. enjoy!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

”Always so messy.”

Caleb speaks to himself, voice a low amused mutter as he deftly clears off the kitchen counter. You were staying the weekend in Skyhaven, evident by the random items strewn about his massive home. 

Yet, Caleb can’t help but smile as he eyes your belongings carelessly discarded all over his kitchen and living room. Your favorite fuzzy blanket draped over the couch’s armrest, grazing the floor. Your shoes haphazardly taken off by the front door, right next to, but not on, the dedicated shoe rack. Coasters left behind on the kitchen bar, still sticky with dripped apple soda.

You were a menace. But he wouldn’t trade your specific brand of chaos for anything in the entire universe. 

You were the one that made this lonely empty house a home, after all.

His grin widens as he remembers just how clean your own apartment in Linkon always is. Naturally, he comes to the conclusion that you only act like this when you know he’s there to pick up after you. To take care of you.

The most important job he’s ever had. 

The sound of the shower continues to run upstairs while Caleb tidies up the living spaces. He quickly returns ingredients back to their designated cabinets, abandoned after you so thoughtfully cooked dinner for him last night. As he shuts the cabinet, he sighs, eyes catching sight of the various vitamin bottles you’d left on the counter, nearly hidden by the rice cooker.

He gathers them up in his large palms, finding a spot for them in his own cabinet of medicine and supplements. 

One by one, he meticulously puts them onto the shelf.

Omega-3, vitamin C, collagen, creatine, prenatal gummies, vitamin B-12—

Wait.

Prenatal gummies?  

Caleb’s violet eyes widen, his breath stuck in his throat, as he reads those red words over and over.

Prenatal gummies for pregnant or nursing women. With folic acid and DHA. Whatever that meant.

His heartbeat quickens as his mind races a mile a minute, his thoughts landing abruptly on the only plausible explanation.

Were you really…pregnant? 

Was it possible? Yes. 

On more than one occasion, definitely way more times than he could count on two hands, he hadn’t been…careful. You’d begged for it, but he should have known better. It was his job to protect you.

But it’d always been on non-fertile days, or that’s what your little period-tracking calendar had always said. 

No, Caleb thinks in a sheer panic. Please no. I can’t be a dad. Not right now. Maybe not ever. 

He’d barely been able to protect you at the lab. He couldn’t possibly let down someone else—a child, a baby. Your baby. That you’d made together. 

He would not survive failing your child. Through heaven and hell, that is something he’d never be able to recover from. 

Caleb runs a shaky hand through his dark brown hair, his normally controlled and collected Colonel’s mask completely and utterly shattered at his feet.

Right now, he was just Caleb, the man who dedicated his entire life, who’d give up anything and everything, to protect you—and would do so until his last breath. 

And this Caleb had never been more terrified in his entire life. Through an entire life of experimentation, through traveling the Deepspace Tunnel, through an explosion that nearly claimed his life, he’d never been more scared than he was right now.

Fatherhood.

The world felt like it was closing in on him—every time he’d failed you replaying in the ever expanding black hole that was his mind. 

The lab. Losing you during the Chronorift Disaster. Every bully, every knee scraped. Ever. The Toring chip. The list goes on and on. 

His chest tightened until he could hardly breathe, his knuckles white with the force at which he gripped the bottle of prenatals. 

He wasn’t equipped for this. 

And yet…he couldn’t deny how many times he’d thought about this life, with you. A life of mundane and blissful domesticity. No Fleet politics, no Wanderers, no imminent danger at every fucking corner. 

A life you’d created together. When he’d grown up thinking there was no such thing. That there would never be a world that the two of you could truly call yours.

“Caleb?”

Your voice pulls him out of his all-consuming thoughts. His head snaps up to see you coming down the stairs, your hair wet, body swimming in one of his big shirts. Your face, beautiful as ever, is laced with concern as you see how uncharacteristically pale he is.

When his eyes meet yours, you can’t help but smile, always so happy to see his face and sparkling nebulous eyes—even when he looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Your smile doesn’t fade as you approach him, palms instinctively coming to rest on his chest when you reach him. 

And just like that, he wasn’t so scared anymore. 

The thought of a little you running around. With that smile?

A mini version of the most precious thing in his life. One that’d undoubtedly drive him insane with that same attitude he loved so dearly. 

That had your laugh as he pointed out different types of planes soaring through the sky. Or your mischievous curiosity as he taught him how to fly his very first jet.

Yeah. He could get used to the idea of that. 

“Did something happen? You look like you’re about to be sick,” you raise an eyebrow at him. It’s then he finally releases the plastic bottle of supplements, setting it down on the counter with a soft ‘clack’. 

Your eyes immediately drift to the source of the intrusive sound, widening when they see what he was so fixated on.

”Caleb it’s—”

You’re cut off by your own squeal, Caleb’s big palms gently but firmly gripping either side of your waist, pulling you so close you could hear his pounding heart. 

“Am I—I mean are we actually…Are you pregnant?”

You can’t help but giggle at his frantic words, stumbling over himself with none of the usual poise and polish of the Farspace Fleet’s revered colonel. 

Caleb’s hand moves from your waist to your tummy, his thumb stroking softly against the fabric of his ratty shirt. His palm cups against your naval without thinking, already instinctively providing a protective barrier between the most important things to him and the rest of the world.

”I…I don’t know if I’d be any good at this,” he whispers, nebulous eyes bright with emotion, “I don’t know if I’d be a good dad.”

Your eyes widen at his vulnerable admission, not expecting it in the least. You’d never expressly discussed starting a family that extended beyond the two of you, but it’d always felt like something Caleb wanted. A stark contrast to his words, you always knew Caleb would be an amazing dad, if that was what the two of you decided you wanted.

Before you can interrupt, Caleb continues, “But—God help me…I will never let anything happen to you. Either of you.”

Your heart flutters at the sincerity of his solemn vow, and you find yourself unable to form the words you should say.

”Caleb…you….” you trail off with a gulp, unsure how to verbalize the torrent of emotions you have for this unbelievably incredible man.

“You’d be the best father.” Your quiet whisper rings whole-heartedly, voice thick with adoration and a bubbling anticipation for your future with him.

Caleb watches you with rapt attention, his heartbeat still hammering like the thrum of a hummingbird’s wings amidst the silence between you two. You’re about to open your mouth again—tell him you’re not pregnant, when he picks you up and backs away from the kitchen counter so he can spin you around. His strong hands are secure under your armpits, the smile on his face so effortlessly Caleb.

Behind the thin mist of fear in his eyes, this was the brightest you’d ever seen Caleb.

You can’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, clutching his muscled shoulders.

“Caleb, put me down!” you demand through your unabashed laugh of delight.

”No,” Caleb grins, “You’re never walking anywhere ever again—never lifting a single finger. Not while you’re carrying our baby.” He suddenly swings you so that his arm is hooked under your knees, carrying you like a prince would a princess.

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt, but you know you have to tell him the truth. You couldn’t bear to disappoint him, but what’s worse was giving him false hope.

Reaching up to tenderly cup his face with your hands, your voice shakes, “Caleb…”

Caleb smiles warmly at you, his cheeks leaning into your touch, “Yeah, princess?”

You bite your lip at how adorably he resembles a happy puppy, his earlier fear seeming to have evaporated into pure excitement. 

You find tears inexplicably forming in your eyes, grieving a pregnancy that was never even there to begin with. Blinking them back, you rip off the bandaid.

“I’m not pregnant.”

Seeing the befuddled expression in his features, his amethyst eyes squinting with unanswered questions, you continue, “The prenatals aren’t for that. A friend recommended them for my skin. Since work’s been a little stressful and I’ve been breaking out.”

You clutch his jacket, staring at his chest—waiting for him to speak. To express disappointment. Maybe even scold you for letting him believe, even if only for a minute. 

“You’re stressed? How come you didn’t tell me? What’s going on at work?”

Caleb only stares at you with genuine concern, still not setting you down, holding you tighter. Your heart hammers at the worry laced in his voice, drowning in emotions that that was what he was most concerned about. 

Your troubles.

“N-Nothing serious, it’s just workplace politics—anyways! The point is I’m not pregnant, okay? I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” 

You can’t stop the apology from tumbling out, even when you know you have nothing to be sorry for. But just seeing how excited he’d been is enough to make you feel like a monster for being the one to squash it. 

Caleb sets you down so that you’re sitting on the counter, his thick body positioned between your thighs. Your heart can’t help but sink at the simple action that felt like it signified so much more. That he was disappointed with you.

But suddenly Caleb flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Hey!” 

“Dummy,” he mutters, thumb soothing the area he’d flicked, “Why are you sorry?” 

“I—you were so excited,” you say sheepishly, “I probably should’ve mentioned I started taking them before you found them yourself.” 

Caleb chuckles, almost in disbelief, hooking your hair behind your ear. Before he can respond, you whisper, “You’re really not mad?”

“How could I be mad?”

His hand abandons the edge of the counter, once again coming to rest over your stomach. His thumb strokes you reassuringly.

“Just knowing that you think I…” he trails off, his own voice murky with emotions. 

“That I’d be worthy of being the father of your children.” 

You place your hand over his, squeezing gently. It felt almost comical—the two of you in the kitchen, hands pressed over your stomach like there was anything there. 

“Besides, I’m not in a rush,” he smiles gently, taking your chin into his fingers and brushing his lips against yours. 

“We have a whole lifetime to make our own little pip-squeak.” 

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[mwphisto]

There is something so thrilling about trying to be quiet.

Something that urges Caleb to work harder, move faster, push the limits. Until you have no choice but to bite him to break him out of his trance before you really do get caught.

Grandma Josephine is right down the hall, after all. How shameful would it be if she caught her two adoptive children naked in the other’s bed.

But, for Caleb? That was part of the appeal. Some twisted part of his mind wanted to get caught by the old lady. And judging by the way you always found yourself in this position? You found the risk appealing too.

Your semester had come to an end, now you could spend the summer months in Linkon. Caleb’s training had also gone on break, giving him roughly a month before he needed to return to Skyhaven for more grueling work.

Two months apart… of course you two were jumping at the chance to be alone. Bidding grandma Josephine an early good night — y’know, the traveling was so exhausting that neither of you could wait to collapse in bed.

…yeah, okay.

God, Caleb wasn’t sure how he managed to contain himself from pouncing on you at the train station.

Hell, he just may have if Josephine hadn’t been accompanying you on the platform.

Given the amount of eye contact and silent conversations passed between the two of you? You weren’t doing much better. So much so that you and Caleb ended up in the front seat with a clueless Josephine in the back.

One hand on the wheel, the other sneakily resting on your bare thigh. Calloused fingers inching up…up…up…and— “Caleb, dear. How has training been?” Oh fuck off!

Some way, somehow, you two survived — barely.

Only thirty minutes after pretending to go to bed, you were slipping out of your bedroom window and shuffling along the slanted roof to tap on Caleb’s.

Everything from there was a bit of a blur. Hands and teeth, lips searing into your skin and then melding to your own. The familiar taste of Caleb, sticky sweet like the apple juice gran had bought just for him. How you had missed it so dearly over the last two months. Dreamt of it.

“Ah, ah… don’t try and hide.”

Somehow, you had gotten here. All clothing shed and discarded around his bedroom floor.

Your back pressed to his broad chest, your legs spread so wide it nearly hurt. You couldn’t close them if you wanted to, Caleb’s much larger ones slung over them and braced on the sheets so you were trapped by his body instead.

Perfectly spread out for him, all his to you and play with. The thought had him twitching against your back, smearing more sticky precum between heated skin.

His hands were both occupied, one roughly playing with your breast, the other running two fingers between slick folds. “You’re so soft, pip. Fuck, I missed this pretty pussy.” You had half the mind left to complain about him saying he just missed your cunt, but all the came out was a whimper.

Still, Caleb knew. Somehow he always did.

“And…” a kiss on your cheek, his nose nuzzling it a second later. “…of course I missed you.” His fingers pressed to your entrance, heat radiating and slick leaking. The pressure made you groan, hips weakly jerking forward yet the bastard had yet to slip them in. Just toying with you and you were completely drenched. It was humiliating.

“You’re not gonna return the favor?” Caleb’s voice was a warm whisper against your ear, his fingers rubbing up against your entrance, just barely slipping inside. “Wha…?” But you understood when he began to chuckle.

“Tell me how much you missed me, pip. And maybe you’ll get what you’re looking for.” Your cunt was aching too much for you to dare put up a fight. “I missed you so much Caleb…” a shuddering breath leaves you as his fingers slid back up to circle your clit. Just enough friction—

“I-I slept in your shirts until they smelt more like me than you… my roommate kept prying y’kn-oh-ow…” your entire body shivered at the pleasure that zapped up your spine. “Kept wanting to meet you, I told her you were a pilot and she was s-swooning…” God you were getting drunk off the pleasure and he had barely done anything.

“…so proud you’re all mine, Caleb.”

You nearly screamed as he plunged two fingers inside of your wet heat, the hand that had been groping your breast slapped over your mouth to successfully muffle it.

Caleb’s thrusts were unrelenting, fingers pounding into your cunt at such a speed your entire body was arching and squirming. Your hips were restless, legs attempting to snap shut as the pleasure was overwhelming.

Caleb’s legs stopped you, his breathing ragged at the sound of wet squelching. His fingers were hitting all the right spots, massaging your walls until you felt your arousal leaking out and down towards the sheets below.

Every thrust had the heel of his palm smacking your clit, shaking almost violently with the intensity of his movements. You swore you tasted blood as you bit down on your lip, nails digging into his forearm.

“You’re such a good girl, y’know that? This pretty pussy is taking my fingers so well even after months apart…” you couldn’t focus, not mentally or physically. Your eyes blurring as the tether pulled tighter and tighter.

You nearly feared the orgasm that was approaching you, already overwhelmed by the pleasure of Caleb finger fucking you. “Gonna cum all over my fingers?” The sounds were obscene at this point, so wet that you swore it was echoing off of his walls. “Y-yes!”

It was just a little too loud, and Caleb had been so distracted by the warmth encompassing his hand that he didn’t think to quiet you. “Sweetie? Caleb honey? Is everything alright?” Everything froze, from your heart beating to Caleb’s fingers in your cunt.

“I thought you two went to bed… you know you don’t have to sneak around if you want to hang out.” The doorknob jiggled, luckily Caleb had half the mind to lock it before. “Sorry Gran…” you somehow recovered faster.

“Finally won against Caleb… got a little too excited.” Slowly, you guided his hands into moving again. “She’s lost three rounds.” Caleb added, smiling against your skin as your walls suctioned to his fingers. “Just don’t stay up too late.”

You both acknowledged her with a good night, faces burning with embarrassment at nearly getting caught. What if Caleb hadn’t locked the door?

“Someone got too excited.”

He’s biting your ear, hand resuming their brutal pace and before you know it, you’re coming all over his fingers with his other hand pressed to your throat. You couldn’t get a sound out if you wanted too now.

The bedding is ruined, and Caleb doesn’t seem to care one bit. His fingers restarting their mission to get you to squirt again. This time, a third finger slipped in.

“Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock. It’s been a few months, can’t risk hurting ya.”

[carnalcrows]

ONCE UPON A TIME

DISNEY X JUJITSU KAISEN CROSSOVER MASTERLIST.

in honour of my blog hitting 2K followers, I'll be having an event!! (of sorts)

content warnings: 18+, smut, angst, top and bottom reader depending on the story, ftm reader in 1 fic, ftm character in 1 fic, flower language, too much plot.

status: about to begin

comment to be tagged!!

dividers belong to @edensrose

LAVENDER'S BLUE

Starring...

Gojo Saturo as Prince Charming,

and

the Reader as Cinderella

cast: Geto as the Evil Stepfather, Mimiko and Nanako as the Evil Stepsisters, Toji as the Captain, Shoko as the Fairy Godmother, Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara as the mice,[etc].

synopsis:

Your life’s never been a fairytale. With a cruel stepmother, two spiteful stepsisters, and no way out, you’ve learned to keep your head down and dream in silence. That is, until a reckless, too-handsome prince crashes into your world—one who’s just as desperate to escape his own.

Two strangers. One night. And a chance to finally run.

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

Starring...

Choso Kamo as Princess Jasmine

and

the Reader as Alladin

cast: Gojo as the Genie, Geto as Choso's man in waiting, Megumi as Abu, Gakuganji as the Sultan, Mahito as Jafar, Yuuji as Rajah, Toji as the military general, etc.

synopsis:

You’ve always survived with quick hands and quicker lies, never expecting more from life than the next stolen meal. But when a chance encounter pulls you into the palace—and into the orbit of a quiet, sharp-eyed royal—you find yourself tangled in something far bigger than either of you imagined.

In a city of secrets, maybe the greatest risk is letting someone truly see you.

UNDER THE SEA

Starring...

Suguru Geto as Ariel

and

the Reader as Prince Eric

cast: Yaga as King Triton, Gojo as Flounder, Nanami as Sebastian, Shoko as Scuttle, Kenjaku as Ursula, Kaori as Vanessa, Utahime as Grimsby, Megumi as Max, etc.

synopsis:

The sea has always sung to you. But it isn’t until you’re pulled from its depths by a stranger with eyes like ink and a voice that haunts your dreams that you start listening.

He doesn’t speak. He walks like he’s learning how. And something about him feels like déjà vu wrapped in salt and longing.

Three days. That’s how long you have before you lose him forever.

And he? He’s already given everything just to be by your side.

DAYS IN THE SUN

Starring...

Sukuna Ryomen as the Beast

and

the Reader as Belle

cast: Naoya as Gaston, Gojo as Lumiere, Geto as Cogsworth, Shoko as the swan brush thing, Kaori Itadori as Missus Potts, Yuuji as Chip, etc.

synopsis:

In a quiet town where nothing ever seems to change, your life is far from peaceful. When your father is taken by a mysterious monster who demands you take his place, it feels like there’s nothing left to hold on to. At home, you’ve never known love or warmth—only distance and silence.

So, when the chance to escape comes, even under such dark circumstances, you’re left wondering if there’s more to this strange creature than what you’ve been told.

FIXER UPPER

Starring...

Toji Fushiguro as Kristoff

and

the Reader as Princess Anna

cast: Nanami as Elsa, Yuuji as Olaf, Megumi as Sven, 8 as the Duke of Weselton, etc.

synopsis: In a kingdom frozen by a mysterious curse, you set off on a journey to find your estranged brother. With only a few trusted companions by your side, you venture into the wilds, hoping to uncover the truth behind the cold that has gripped your world.

Along the way, you’ll face challenges that test your strength and your heart, but nothing can prepare you for the secrets that lie ahead. As you unravel the mystery, you begin to question who you can truly trust—and whether you can break the curse before it consumes everything.

EVER EVER AFTER

Starring...

Kento Nanami as Robert

and

the Reader as Giselle

cast: Gojo as Edward, Nobara as Edward's daughter, Geto as Nancy, Megumi as Pip, Meimei as Queen Narissa, Toji as Nathaniel, etc

synopsis:

You were on the brink of your fairy tale come true—soon to marry a charming prince in a world of magic and dreams. But when a jealous spellcaster drags you into the harsh, unforgiving real world, your fantasy shatters. Lost and out of place in a city that doesn't believe in happily ever afters, you find an unexpected ally in a cynical man who has long dismissed such notions.

As he helps you navigate the struggles of this new world, you begin to question everything you thought you knew about love. Torn between the prince you were meant to marry and the real, grounded connection you start to form, you must choose which kind of love is worth fighting for.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[pinecavity]

You never really had a birthday. Not in that place. Dates didn’t matter—just results. Just progress. Just whether or not you survived another round of whatever they put you through.

But Caleb decided that wasn’t good enough.

So he picked a day. Maybe it was the first time he saw you, 001, still small and scrawny and barely holding on, the weight of what they did to you pressed into your bones. Or maybe it was the day he found you again, weeks later, when you looked at him like a stranger and he had to swallow down the ache that came with it. Didn’t matter. What mattered was you had one now.

And even when there was nothing to give, he made sure you had something. A stolen candy slipped into your palm when no one was looking. His half of whatever food they managed that day, pushed onto your plate like it wasn’t even a question.

A whispered, “Happy birthday, pips. Guess you’re stuck with me another year.”

When you got out—really got out, when there were kitchens and real ingredients and choices—he figured it out. He had to.

It started with the small things. The first time he watched you pick at your food, eyes downcast, shoulders tight, he realized you didn’t know what you liked. That neither of you had ever had the chance to find out. Meals had always been something given in the laboratory, not chosen. Sustenance, not comfort.

So, he learned.

Messed with recipes until they were right. Memorized the way your face changed when something was good—really good—so he could do it again. So you’d never have to force something down again just because it was all there was. No more inedible slop. No more processed, tasteless things they used to keep you both alive but never full.

Even tried baking once. Scowled at the oven like it had personally offended him when the cake didn’t come out right. Stared at the sunken middle, the lopsided edges, arms crossed like he was trying to puzzle out where he went wrong. You laughed at him, and the sound made him forget why it even mattered.

(Still, the next day, there was a second attempt. And a third. Until your birthday cake came out perfect—fluffy, golden, just sweet enough, just how you like it. He acted like it wasn’t a big deal, but he let you have the first bite.)

And every year, no matter where you were, how much time had passed, he said it the same way. That soft, teasing lilt, like it was just another joke, just another day—like it wasn’t carrying something heavier beneath it.

“Happy birthday pip. Another year, huh? You let me stick around this long—think that means you’re stuck with me too.”

And the way he looks at you when he says it—eyes crinkled and bursting with love—like it’s a promise he’s already decided to keep. Like no matter what happens, no matter how many years come and go, you can count on him to celebrate you, over and over again.

[losermuse]

+1-800-UNAVAILABLE

CW: 18+ (mdni), gn!reader, dom!caleb, handjob/blowjob, slight exhibitionism, friend with benefit au.

Stealing your fwb! Caleb’s attention while he’s on the call with his pipsqueak. You’re in his lap before the call even connects, lips pressed to the side of his neck. He doesn’t push you away—just rests a hand on your thigh like he already knows where this is going. The screen lights up with pipsqueak, and he answers with a sigh.

“Hey, pips.”

“Gege!” she chirps, bright and eager. “Took you long enough! I wasn’t sure if you were still alive.”

You drag your mouth slowly up his throat, lips brushing just under his jaw. His voice stays even, but his grip on your leg tightens slightly, warning you.

“Barely,” he mutters. “Been buried in deadlines.”

She laughs. “Same here. Senior year’s a nightmare. Everyone’s obsessed with college, but no one knows what they’re doing. I wish you were still here.”

You trail your fingers down his bare chest, tracing the faint line of his happy trail—dark and soft, leading down from his navel and disappearing beneath his waistband. You follow it lower, teasing just above his jeans before slipping a hand inside. He’s already getting hard, twitching under your palm.

“Yeah?” he says, and even though it’s directed at her, his eyes are on you. “You’ll survive.”

“I dunno.” She sighs dramatically. “Are you coming back home soon? Like for the holidays or whatever? Grandma’s been asking.”

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. Multitasking looks good on you, you whisper as fingers curl around him.

Caleb swallows hard. “I might. Depends on finals.”

“You better,” she says. “It’s not the same without you. One of your old playlists came on while I was studying. I forgot how much I liked your weird taste in music.”

You slide to your knees between his legs, tugging his jeans down enough to free him. He’s heavy and flushed in your palm, thick and already leaking. You stroke him slowly, your thumb teasing the slit, before leaning in to kiss the head—wet, open-mouthed, tongue flicking soft and slow.

Then you take him into your mouth, inch by inch, lips stretching around him.

Your other hand slips lower, cupping his balls. You fondle them gently, fingers rolling over the soft weight in your palm. His breath catches as you massage them, your tongue working the underside of his cock while your hand plays with him, coaxing every ragged breath from his lungs.

Caleb’s fingers curl into your hair, gripping tight, but he doesn’t push. He’s just holding on, grounding himself as you take him apart.

“Still listening to my playlists?” he mutters, voice strained, rougher than before. “You need better taste.”

She laughs, light and clueless. “You’re such a jerk. But seriously—I kinda miss it. You, I mean. Things were more fun when you were still around.”

You hum around him, letting the vibration buzz through your throat while your fingers give his balls another gentle squeeze. His hips jerk, dangerously close to breaking.

“You okay?” she asks suddenly. “You sound weird.”

“M’fine,” he grits out, jaw clenched. “Just… focused.”

“On me?” she teases.

You swirl your tongue around the head, hollowing your cheeks slowly and deeply. His grip on your hair tightens, and his knuckles turn white.

“Sure,” he breathes. “You.”

“You always say that with your liar voice,” she pouts. “Whatever. I’ll let you go if you promise to call later. Don’t forget.”

“Won’t.”

“You swear?”

“Yeah. Bye, Pips.”

The call ends. Caleb doesn’t even look at the phone. He just stares down at you, chest heaving, face flushed.

“You’re outta your fucking mind,” he says, voice frayed and low.

You pull off him with a slick pop, chin wet, hand still gently stroking his cock. “You didn’t stop me.”

His hand fisting in your hair drags you up to meet him, eyes dark and blown wide.

“Get back to work,” he growls. “You wanted my attention? You’ve got it.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

[ghelgheli]

hey—I'm fundraising on behalf of a friend ("N") who's in a sticky situation and prefers to stay anonymous

What’s the situation?

N is a young disabled trans woman living in the north of England, whose relationship with her long term partner has broken down, leaving her in an unsafe living situation which needs to change as soon as possible. N, who has lived with her partner for a number of years, recently decided to end the relationship in part due to her attempts to adjust to her disability as it continues to encroach on more of her life, but also due to the long term effects of transmisogyny and sexual violence which have occurred and continued to preside within the relationship, becoming increasingly impossible to live alongside.

N currently works part time and due to her disability is working as many hours already as she is capable of. This provides a fixed limited income which isn't currently enough to support herself on her own. Whilst N is in middle of a number of processes of applying for benefits (PIP and Universal Credit), these take time and labour to pursue, could take weeks to finalise, and would still be unlikely to provide the kind of resources for N to set herself up in a sustainable and safe living situation without the support of a number of upfront costs outside even these means. Until this situation changes, N remains economically dependent on her ex-partner, with no alternative means of support, living in an increasingly unsafe, stressful and emotionally difficult environment for everyone in which N is finding it difficult to survive.

What does she need?

N desperately needs the financial support of this fundraiser to get safely housed and settled into a new flat on her own in the private rental sector. Because of her problems with income, we are aiming to raise enough money to pay for a portion of the tenancy in advance, which would allow N to circumvent proof of income checks (which often facilitate ableist discrimination from landlords) and to give her a few months to sort out her benefits applications so she can provide for herself long-term.

We all know It’s a difficult time of year to find spare cash, but N is a valued and loved member of her community and we really need your help. Any support is really appreciated.

[asiatic-apple]

If requests are open, maybe some fluff with a fem reader with caleb please? go any way you please, and ty

Thanks for the req, nonnie! I was so excited to make my own choice for this one. Prompt #17 reminded me of when he notices a small cut on MC’s hand by stalking her Moment posts lolll—so I wanted to write something comical in the same vein. Hope you enjoy!

Last chance to send a request!

Playing doctor

Caleb x female reader

Prompt: carefully bandaging the other’s wounds, even if it’s just a tiny cut

Content: a little bit suggestive…especially at the end, caleb is such a mother hen, possessive!caleb

You’re sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, your back against the couch, surrounded by the chaos of tiny plastic parts and instruction booklets. Caleb’s plane model kit has taken over the entire area in front of the coffee table.

The glossy box it came in promised “historically accurate parts and museum-quality realism.” What it didn’t mention was that building it would feel like doing surgery with tweezers and a prayer.

While you carefully sort dozens—or maybe hundreds—of parts into organized piles, Caleb lounges beside you on the carpet, elbows propped on the table.

Excitement radiates off him like heat. He’s been infodumping about fighter jets for the past thirty minutes straight. And honestly, you’re enjoying it. His voice pitches higher when he’s animated, and his hand gestures get wilder the longer he explains the mechanics of wing flaps and thrust ratios.

He’s so adorable that your teeth ache. Something else, much lower in your body, aches too. But you try to ignore it for now. You’re barely looking down at the pieces in your hands anymore, too enamored by how passionate he is.

“And the thing about the intake valves,” Caleb says, flipping the instruction manual around to point out a diagram like it’s a national treasure, “is that most people don’t realize the way they rerouted airflow in this design actually boosted acceleration by–”

He gasps, loud and sharp, his face stricken in horror.

You glance down at the model parts in your hands, panic spiking. Surely you didn’t break something. There was no snapping sound, no loose plastic. Everything looks intact.

“What? What did I do?” you ask quickly, heart in your throat.

His large hands gently engulf yours, forcing you to drop the parts onto the floor as he peers down at your fingers with the intensity of a man defusing a bomb.

“Pip-squeak,” he scolds softly, brows drawn. “I told you to be careful.”

“Huh? I was being careful. I didn’t break–"

“The wingtips are sharp.” His voice is low and reminiscent of when he’s reprimanding his subordinates at the Fleet. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

You frown, examining your hand. There’s no blood. No scratch. Nothing.

But then he presses lightly on the pad of your pointer finger, and a faint sting blooms. One single drop of blood beads up at the tip like it had to fight hard to exist. You’re not even sure how he noticed something so miniscule before you registered the cut.

Caleb inhales like you’ve been shot.

You scoff. “You’re kidding, right?”

He is not.

Before you can protest, he drags you down the hall, mumbling about risk of infection and tissue trauma like you’ve barely survived a Wanderer ambush.

You don’t resist him tugging you toward the bathroom. Not because you agree with him, but because you’ve learned there’s no reasoning with him when you’re hurt. Even slightly hurt.

But growing up with him made you stubborn. And you like to push his buttons.

“Caleb,” you whine dramatically, “it’s literally a paper cut. I’ll be fine.”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ in that insufferably cute way of his. “It’s plastic. Which makes it worse than a paper cut.”

You snort as he pulls out the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet like a man preparing for battlefield surgery. With the help of his Evol, you’re deposited on top of the bathroom counter while he digs through antiseptics and gauze with military precision.

“Uh huh, and is that your professional diagnosis?” you tease.

“It is,” he counters, holding up the antiseptic like it’s holy water. “You’re bleeding. And I’m not risking it getting infected. Not on my watch.”

You bite your tongue instead of pointing out how annoying or stifling his overprotectiveness can be sometimes. Mirth flickers in your eyes while you watch him gently dab a cotton round with antiseptic before hovering it over your finger.

“Sorry, pips. This might sting.”

You grin and hiss dramatically as soon as it touches your skin. “Oh god…the pain!”

He hums sympathetically, his lips twitching with a smile. “Shh, I know. It’s okay. Doctor Caleb’s here.”

He is such an ass sometimes. But you snicker anyway. “You know you’re insane, right?” you mutter, sticking your tongue out at the overbearing doctor.

He wraps your finger with one of the ridiculous smiley-face band-aids he likes to keep around for “emergencies.”

“Yeah. Insanely in love with you,” he retorts, kissing your bandaged finger with a proud little grin.

God, he’s insufferable. And you stupidly love him anyway.

You jump down from the counter and let him take your good hand before leading him back toward the living room.

“Come on, Doctor Caleb,” you deadpan. “Your patient still has a jet to build with you.”

“As long as you promise to let me handle the sharp parts,” he mutters, shooting the scattered pieces a distrustful look when you enter the living room again.

“No promises.”

He sighs heavily. “Then I’m saving the kit for later and wrapping both your hands in gauze.”

To prove his point, he grips both your wrists, locking them against his chest while you laugh and try to escape. He tugs you closer, the look in his eyes becoming a bit darker once you’re close enough for his lips to brush your temple.

“You should listen to your doctor.” His voice is lower, a delicious-sounding threat edged in his words. “I’m the only one who knows what he’s talkin’ about,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, confused for half a second—until you remember Zayne. The actual licensed doctor who’s patched you up on more than one occasion. Who Caleb wishes you didn’t have to see anymore.

You smirk, deciding to play along. “But Doctor Caleb forgot something important,” you whisper, running your bandaged finger down his chest. “You didn’t prescribe any medicine for the pain.”

His brows arch, curiosity and heat mixing in his gaze.

You lean in just a little closer, your voice dropping to a teasing purr. “And I was such a good little trooper, helping you with your model kit all afternoon. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

💕 tag list: @heartyluv @doeeyes515 @lethalasylum @starryeyed-apple @starlitfics @craeatio @rafayelslittlestar @ruralamours @alyssac9 @blushofeve @alastor-simp @nezuswritingdesk

🍎 tag list: @walleeli @honeymoonfleur @stargirlygirl @floatinginaer @k-lq20 @sweatybonkhumanoidranch @gravity-pilot @honeycrispangels

Want to be added to my tag list?

dividers by @/sister-lucifer

[salemrph]

The taste of apple and pomegranate

Ch. 1: This is your fault

Nav: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 (coming soon) // AO3

Summary: You just wanted to survive university, not fall for either of them—let alone both. Two handsome idiots who somehow made your apartment their second home. You, Sylus, and Caleb were supposed to be just friends. So why does everything feel like their is more going on?

Character: Sylus x f!reader x Caleb // Tara, Rafayel // AU - College, Student

Genre: romantic, fluff, intimacy, humor, friends to lovers, poliamore, slow burn

Word count: 3k | Reading Time: 12 min | AO3

A/N: This one’s more of a short, episode-style story. I just wanted to have some fun throwing these two into everyday situations and seeing what kind of chaos unfolds. Hope you enjoy the mess!

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist @peacedreamer14 @blessdunrest @strwberriiblnde @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusqt @sakuraneko-sakupanda-chan @peacedreamer14 @escapeis @plzdonutpercieveme

Chp. 1: This is your fault

The clock blinked past midnight, and your fourth beer of the evening was dangerously close to becoming a fifth. Your apartment was dimly lit, warm from too many bodies and old radiator heat, littered with half-eaten snacks and scattered notes. A half-empty pack of cigarettes lay discarded on the coffee table, nestled beside a ridiculous lighter: a fluffy kitten pattern grinning up at you with the defiant, stupid quote “I have other 9 lives.” The scent of stale beer and cheap ramen hung heavy in the air, almost comforting, now mixed with the distinct, masculine perfumes and deodorants of your best friends.

Caleb was hunched over his laptop at the far end of the couch, still typing furiously. “Stop drinking so much, Pips,” he muttered, not even bothering to glance up.

You rolled your eyes, stretching your legs across the coffee table, with a sigh that was 50% relaxation, 50% resignation. “It’s my beer, my apartment. Let me live.”

In the background, your chill playlist hummed, the kind you usually put on when you're drinking. You were right at that sweet spot, alcohol just starting to expand in your veins, making everything feel kinda hazy and good. You knew your brain was about to start overthinking something, probably something dumb.

The melancholic melody filled the silence: "I always want you when I'm (coming down)," the song played softly, what a sensual song, you think. Something silently ignited something deep within you.

You took a long sip from your bottle, the cheap lager almost tasting good enough to forget the rising frustration about your non-existent dating life. Your gaze drifted across the dimly lit room, landing on Caleb's focused profile. Your eyes snagged on his hand, currently flying across the keyboard. The same hand that had, more than once, casually hoisted you over his shoulder after particularly wild parties, or carefully bandaged a scraped knee from a clumsy fall. Around his neck the apple necklace you present him hung against his skin. Your eyes followed the line of it, down to where his t-shirt to his white bandages wrapped around his forearm, a fresh souvenir from his last basketball game. Your gaze traced the edge of it, then drifted, admiring the solid curve of his bicep. You avoid biting your lips.  

From the other side of the room, sitting at the dining table, Sylus offered a lazy, noncommittal hum, his eyes similarly fixed on his own monitor—stock charts, forex rates, and whatever other wizardry he used to casually rake in ungodly amounts of money. The man was practically a walking, breathing hedge fund, and you still didn't get why he was bothering with university. He could probably buy the entire campus and turn it into his personal empire without blinking.

He sipped his espresso and with a soft click, he closed a tab where he'd apparently just bought a stock at a very good price. His glasses, an expensive, minimalist frame, perched casually on the bridge of his aristocratic nose, drawing attention to the sharp line of his jaw. Your gaze followed the elegant curve of his long fingers as they clicked another tab closed, his nails perfectly manicured. He was dressed, as always, in something impossibly chic yet understated – a dark silk shirt, the sleeves rolled precisely to his forearms. He had this overall presence that just radiated 'out of reach'. Yet, you'd had the bizarre, almost illicit privilege of glimpsing a lot more than just his designer clothes. Like those warm summer nights when he'd showered at your place, the sight of his lean, powerful body illuminated by the glow of your bathroom light burned into your memory. The first time you saw it wrapped in the towel, you swear your nose was bleeding.

He continued searching for other gadgets and artifacts at auction sites. “You should at least drink something imported.”

You shot him a look that could curdle milk. “Not all of us are billionaires by twenty-four, Sylus.”

He just smirked, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips, not bothering to deny it. Bastard.

The days and months had started passing more and more quickly since those two insufferable idiots had crashed into your life.  Sylus and Caleb were a little older than you, but not by much, two or three years at most. They were both part of the university basketball team and knew each other from a few overlapping courses in their respective majors.

You still didn’t quite understand why Sylus was studying engineering when he was so absurdly good at business and finance. Over time, you realized he was a tech nerd and was always creating things. A true genie. Caleb was another natural talent. He’d told you more than once about the summers he spent dismantling and rebuilding cars just for fun. His real dream was to become a pilot, but apparently, he didn’t do well on the psychological assessment.

Out of respect for the simmering frustration you'd glimpsed beneath his usual easy going demeanor, you'd never pressed on what that test involved or why he'd failed.

Sylus, with his ever-present “don’t bother me” energy, was, along with Caleb, one of the main attractions on campus. Wherever he went, people noticed. He drew attention without even trying, but never seemed interested in anything or anyone in particular. Most of his time was spent glued to his laptop, tracking stocks, studying currency shifts. He should’ve been a goddamn broker. About two years ago, he’d made a fortune literally overnight, landing him on the cover of a few important financial magazines. Yeah, just casually.

You, on the other hand, were still somewhat unsure whether the career path you’d chosen was really what you wanted. But instead of figuring it out beforehand, you’d decided to figure it out while doing it—which, honestly, felt like the most brilliant idea you’d had at the time.

Caleb let out a heavy sigh, finally tearing his gaze from his screen to meet yours. “You’ve been off lately, Pips. What’s going on?”

You let out a sharp, exasperated breath, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. You weren't entirely sure if this was the right topic to drop on the guys, but honestly? You didn't give a flying fuck. They were your friends. They could just cope with your impending mental breakdown over whatever fresh hell was brewing in your life. So... 

“I haven’t been on a date in months. Everyone either ghosts me or cancels last minute. I swear to god, I'm starting to think I'm cursed. Or hexed. Or...” you squint at them both, a wave of drunken suspicion washing over you, “sabotaged.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Sabotaged?”

You pointed a wobbly finger, barely managing to keep it steady. “Don’t act innocent. I bet that you have something to do with that. Probably you have scared them off. You're a pair of overprotective guard dogs."

Caleb let out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head. "You’re reading too much into it, Pips."

Sylus didn’t look up. “If they were scared off that easily, they weren’t worth your time.”

"He's not wrong," Caleb agreed, a light mocking smile playing on his lips. 

You stared at them. How these two insufferable, brilliant, competitive idiots who couldn't go ten minutes without throwing shit at each other but still managed to be friends, is a mystery for you. You took another long sip from your bottle, eyes bouncing between the two of them. They didn’t even deny it.

The last guy who looked at you flirty at the library suddenly found his entire research paper deleted from the shared drive, and Caleb was “just” helping him out. Which ended, according to rumours, in a threat with the smile of an angel. And how about the coffee shop guy? Cute. Charming. You actually went on a date with him. There was chemistry, flirting and potential. You’d even texted Tara that you had a good feeling. Then you casually mentioned to the boys that you’d met someone. A day later? Ghosted. Like a goddamn phantom. It couldn't be a coincidence. It couldn't. 

“Oh, really?" you countered, your voice rising in disbelief. "What about the guy in my peer study group, huh? He got a death stare from both of you. I practically had to convince him you two weren't going to bite him.” You slammed your bottle down on the coffee table with a thud, the sound punctuating your declaration. “You know what I think?” you declared. “If I can’t go on a date and you little shits are messing with my dating life, theeen… guess what?”

Caleb’s expression shifted from detached amusement to a wary curiosity. Sylus raised a single eyebrow.

“You two are going to fix it.”  you stated.

Caleb lets out a dry laugh. “Fix what? Your dating life?”

Sylus finally closed his laptop, his lips curling into a subtle smirk, clearly amused by where this is heading. “And how do you propose we ‘fix’ this, sweetie?” he purred with a hint of playful condescension.

“You’re fucking responsible for my needs,” you declared, waving your hand like you were pronouncing a royal decree. “Congratulations.”

The room falls silent. The alcohol has clearly reached your brain, and you haven’t yet realized what you were trying to say, let alone the seismic shift they'd just triggered in both their minds.

Caleb blinked slowly, like his brain had momentarily disconnected from the rest of him. "...What?"

Sylus's response was flat, almost dangerously so “Define needs...”

"Human touch! Kissing! Sex! The whole damn package!" you exclaimed, throwing your arms out in exasperation, your voice rising in a frustrated crescendo. “I'm practically wasting my colleague's year because you two. You’re like gods,” you continue, voice rising while standing up on the sofa, mimicking your parallelism “sitting on Mount Olympus, throwing lightning bolts at anyone who so much as looks at me sideways!”

You stopped, chest heaving slightly from your own dramatic flair, glaring at them both. Caleb massaged his tempel, Sylus simply took another slow sip of his espresso, his smirk widening as he leaned back against the chair.

“So let me get this straight, pipsqueak,” Caleb began, but then it hitched, his mouth suddenly dry. "You're blaming us for the drought in your love life, and your solution is...?"

“I’m saying,” you cut in, sitting back on the sofa. Taking the almost-empty bottle and pointing accusingly at both of them, “if neither of you is going to let me date literally anyone, then maybe you should be the ones handling the consequences. Physically.”

Another long pause stretched between you. Caleb looked completely baffled. Sylus, ever composed, finished his coffee. 

“Well,” he said, voice smooth as sin, “this escalated nicely.” He stood up and walked over to the sofa. With a quick movement he snatched your bottle out of your hand. “You had enough of this,” he said, tone light but firm, leaving no room for argument. You blinked at him, half-offended, half-flustered, and pouted, like a little girl who'd just had her favorite candy snatched away. “Such a bold kitten we have tonight…”

Then he leaned down, close, his body nearly caging you against the cushions. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent a potent mix of espresso and his usual spicy and woody perfume. He examined the bottle, tilting it slightly, then let out a quiet sigh, as if he'd just connected the dots and realized your little outburst was the predictable consequence of cheap liquor.

But of course, he wasn't letting you off the hook. Not when you'd just handed him such a delicious opening. So he leaned in a little closer, playing it up, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur.

“If you wanted to upgrade our friendship to something with… benefits, you could have said it earlier.” His eyes flicked to Caleb, a quick, mischievous glint, daring him to match the energy. Caleb, not one to back down from a challenge, closed the remaining space between you. His body radiates warmth, and a grin spreads across his face. 

“Alright honey,” he murmured. His fingers brushed your jaw, light, teasing caress that sent shivers down your spine. “This is next level.”

Your heart was hammering now—between Sylus’s velvet voice and Caleb’s proximity, you were seconds away from full combustion. Your skin prickles. Your face burned, a furious blush creeping up your neck. You’re too aware of how close they are. Of the heat rolling off their bodies. Of the way your knees suddenly feel too weak and the air in your lungs refuses to behave. You swallow hard. The heat of the alcohol combined with the heat of your own mortification was a potent cocktail. What were you even thinking? Sylus was probably already calculating the market value of your desperation.

You did the only thing your overwhelmed brain could manage. You shoved them both.

“Okay! Nope!” you blurted, scrambling to your feet like the couch was suddenly on fire. You sighed, dragging a hand down your face as the heat in your cheeks caught up with your mouth. “Nevermind, I’m drunk.” You stood up, wobbling a little from the beer and embarrassment. “Forget it. I’ll talk to Tara.” You didn't even bother glancing back as you snatched your empty bottles, the glass clinking as you stomped toward the kitchen. “Apparently a new hot art student has joined the campu, so maybe I’ll get a chance.” you murmured more for you. Behind you, silence. Caleb blinked at Sylus. Sylus blinked back. And then, like a perfectly timed glitch in the universe, both spoke at once:

“Hot art student?”

Caleb was already flying over pictures on social media. He obviously knows everyone on campus, and it would only take a couple of messages to find the guy in question. A few seconds later he pulled up the profile. Caleb clicked his tongue and a slight spasm made his face twitch for a moment. Without a word, he tossed the phone across the couch. Sylus caught it one-handed, gaze flicking down with mild disinterest. He studied the screen for all of two seconds before the corner of his mouth twitched. Violet hair, clothes with light, almost theatrical cuts. A flamboyant guy named Rafayel.

You peeked around the corner, raising a brow. “You two shouldn’t care who I date or fuck.”

Sylus leaned back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other. “Kitten,” he said, that dangerous softness in his voice. “Do me a favor, okay?” You tilted your head, already bracing. “Raise your standards.”

You straightened up, trying to project an air of nonchalance you absolutely did not feel. 

“Are you suddenly volunteering to step in and save me from a life of celibacy?” You crossed your arms, daring them to answer. The silence stretched with unspoken possibilities, with implications that made your skin prickle. You cleared your throat awkwardly, waving a hand dismissively. “Gosh… It was a joke. I mean, obviously,” you added quickly. “I’m not actually... I just—ugh, whatever. Just go home, both of you. I need to sleep.”

You turned on your heel and started toward your room, absolutely refusing to make eye contact. 

Behind you, Caleb chuckled under his breath. “Sure, Pips. Jokes. Good night.”

“Sleep well, kitten. Try not to dream about moody art boys who can’t find your G-spot.”

The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the apartment. Your heart was racing. Your skin was on fire. And all you could think was: You were never drinking around them again. Never. Again. Your cheeks are still blazing, and you can practically feel Sylus's smirk through the door. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. And Caleb, that traitor, just egging him on. They love this, don’t they? Love seeing you flustered and embarrassed. This whole situation is just a mess. 

Why did they have to look at you like that? Like they were actually considering it. Caleb, with that flicker of genuine concern and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. And Sylus… Sylus with that infuriating, knowing glint in his eyes that always made you question everything, every boundary, every assumption you had about him.

What were you trying to do? Was it a pathetic attempt at making them jealous? You couldn't deny that you'd been more than a little attracted to them when you first met them. How could you not? Their sculpted bodies, the way their muscles flexed under taut skin, their easy confidence. You've seen them shirtless too many times… Sweaty post-game, fresh out of the shower, pants slung far too low. Honestly? They should open an OF. Just for you. So you could enjoy the view in private, without having to explain why your brain short-circuited every time they took off their T-Shirt. 

You’ve gone too long without a decent date. That was the only rational explanation. Now you’re sexualizing your friends. Which led to dangerous, fleeting images flashing through your mind, so vivid it made you swallow hard. Both of them, staring at you. Cheeks flushed. Foreheads glistening with sweat. Their eyes dark, locked onto you, devouring you. Their voices rough. Almost in sync, whispering your name with a heat that makes your hair stand on end.

An electrifying sensation shot through your entire body, hitting all the wrong places. Or maybe the right ones. Your breath catches. You slap a hand over your mouth, fast, stifling the sound threatening to escape. A very involuntary and absolutely needy moan that rises from somewhere deep in your chest. 

You blink hard, shaking your head like it might rattle the fantasy loose. God help you. No. You’re not going to think about it. You were going to take a cold shower and pretend this entire humiliating, sexually charged conversation never happened.

Release every 1-2 week

Nav: Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 (coming soon) // AO3

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[levshany]

about the Mindscape in Tandem AU

I really want to talk about Colibri, but I have to be careful because I can’t spoil too much. spoilers for Tandem are spoilers for "The Dawn". Therefore, I cannot yet explain some moments. But it's fine for the mindscape I guess. After all this is one of the most delicious parts of the story >:3

those of you who have read "At The Dawn Of The Light" know that Philip had the same dream for ten years in a row, where he is small and lives in his old house with Caleb. and Philip convinced himself that this was true reality, and the Boiling Islands were a nightmare

but then Philip, carelessly, without thinking it over, allowed Collie to come to him in his dreams. and at the same time he opened access to his mind, which later ended with Collie possessing Philips body in order to prevent him from “falling asleep forever”

In Mindscape, Collie set himself the following goals: to restore Philip's mind, make him stop considering his dream to be reality and make him want to return to the REAL reality

Both tasks turned out to be much more difficult than Collie thought. First, in Philip's mind he was completely powerless. he cannot in any way influence the surrounding space, and therefore he's not able to simply restore the forest of memories with a snap of his fingers. And secondly, Pip (surprisingly) doesn't want to be dissuaded of the falsity of his little world! No matter what cool logical arguments Collie puts forward, Philip just ignores or parries everything he says! The most offensive thing is that Pip actually understands perfectly well where the dream is and where the reality is, but for some reason he refuses to admit it. And and every time he runs away from answering, either disappearing into thin air in the middle of a conversation, or distracting Collie with something stupid. For example, he snatches his hat and starts a battle over it

Collie thought he could drag the surviving memories from the basement into the forest by hand, but Caleb wouldn’t let him. “How did Caleb end up here?”, those who have not read "The Dawn" will ask. and I will say that this is a part of Philip’s mind that performs a protective function and protects little Pip from unpleasant thoughts and gives advice on how to behave in situations. and the local Caleb regards Collie as a real threat, who with his mere presence breaks the “realness” of their little cozy reality, and even tries to make Pip remember some things that are unpleasant for both of them. each time Caleb caught Collie near the basement and drove him away. the only memory he allowed to return to the forest was Philip's first meeting with Collie

So it turns out that so far Collie can’t figure out how to help Philip. the only thing he can do now is get him out of the Boiling Isles. Replace this “nightmare” with some more pleasant dream, so that Philip is no longer afraid to at least wake up in this reality

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I’ve wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we’re all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however… I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lightning crackles and a clap of thunder adds to the boat's violent motion. You cling to the king as he keeps one arm around you, his other hand clutched around the leg of the table nailed down to the floor. The lurch of the ship brings back that sickness in your stomach that only settled the day prior.

You whimper as you nearly slip from his grasp. He grunts and brings you back to him, curling his arm tighter. You feel like a child as the terror brings tears to your eyes.

"Pip, don't fear. I will not let you go."

The slapping of the furious waves lends little to his assurance. The king is a good man but he cannot contest nature. No one can.

"Do you recall," he speaks loudly over the thrashing, "I told you of that stormy night upon the sea. I was but a child still?"

You nod against him as you burrow into his chest.

"It was worse than even this. And I survived. I am before you now because I had heart. The fates will not let us perish. Not like this," he squeezes you to him. "How cruel of them to do so when we have grown... so close."

The last words you are not certain of. His voice lowers so that it weaves into the fury of the storm. You shiver and press yourself to him.

"I will try...." you holler into his tunic. "I do try, your highness."

"Hush, I know it," he keeps you flush to him. "It will not last much longer."

He sounds as if he commands it himself. As if the storm will heed his will just by speaking it. You know it cannot be but the confidence of his timbre soothes you. If the hope is false, you will cling to it nonetheless.

Another startling boom shakes the boat and in its wake, only the swirling hunger of the waves remains. The pelt of rain hammers above as the winds calm and the rumble rolls away. For a moment, you believe you've been dragged into the depths and yet, you feel the warmth against you. 

The king moves slowly. He lets go of the table and nudges you.

"Pip, come," he plants his feet and helps you up. He brings you to the corner of the chamber and sits you under the wing of his cloak, his arm draped over you once more. "Did I not bid it? The storm has left."

You shiver and curl up, arms around your knees. "You did, your majesty."

"And what happened to Poppet?" He teases,

"Apologies," you murmur. "I forgot..."

"You were frightened but I am a king. I swore to protect all my subjects."

"I am only... a maid," you yawn, the thrill and fear slaking from you. You are suddenly very weak.

"You are worthy," he pulls you to him as he leans against the wall. "My pip, you serve me well."

His hand falls down your side and rests on your hip. You are too weak to think of it. He keeps you close as his breath slows.

"We will be ashore soon. We must be ready."

"Yes, my king."

"Mm," he hums. "Your king. Yes, I like that very much."

His fingers knead into your dress. Your head lolls and your eyes droop. You are too tired to resist the sudden fatigue crawling over you.

👑

"I suppose I shouldn't gripe. So long as the horse's legs work," the king tuts as he works at untangling the salt-stained mane of his steed. "We've some ways to go."

You stand beside him, patient but restless as you watch his hands work. He tugs on a knot and sighs.

"Might I?" You offer.

He throws his hands up and backs away. You rub the fine hair between your fingertips and focus on uncoiling it. You do not rush for that will only make it worse.

You sense the king come close again. You look up as he watches your hands. "I recall how you were able to tame the duke's nest," he scoffs. "You are good with stubborn beasts, I see."

"It is not very much work," you assure him and combs your finger through the hair. "Easier with a brush."

"Hm, yes," he reaches for his head and touches his own locks, half-pulled away from his face, the tails wavy from the salty sea air. "When we are closer, I will needs attend to all this."

"It is very far?"

"Not very but our route will be tedious," he confirms. "Come, pip, let us not delay."

He moves before you can. He lifts you onto the horse. It is all very routine now. The way he directs you without even speaking sometimes.

You steady yourself in the saddle as he climbs up after you. The horse puffs and he snaps the reins. The speckled steed falls into motion.

"It is not very bad. I wouldn't ask for better company," he drawls. "Travelling with a retinue... well, it is far more bothersome."

You listen. He has more stories, more living than you. You could only tell him of castle walls and the servants throwing stones at the river.

"Slow as well, though I trust Rogers will keep the wheels turning. He has that character about him. At times, I forget it is I that bears the crown and not he."

You laugh at that. You cover your mouth guiltily. Any master can be demanding but he is not incorrect. The Duke has his way and does not bend from it.

"Do not shy away, pip, it is true and I will not let him know you agree," he pats your thigh then rests his hand there, gripping the reins.

The rock of the horse keeps you close. He groans as he shifts, the friction between you at times searing. He keeps his arms around you as he lazily steers.

"I must tell you he was not eager to part with you. Certainly, he does moan of the rest of his household, but we did have a bit of a row about it all. Well, you see, I am wiser than Stark and I know he would send his little rats to follow the royal banners." He clicks his tongue. "No one cares very much for a couple in peasants' clothes."

You sway with him and feel him wiggle again. It's as if he can't get comfortable. You try to lean forward but he nudges you back against him.

"Careful, you wouldn't like to fall," he girds.

You settle back against him. You brace the pommel of the saddle as you do. A rigid shape presses against your rear. Something upon the king's belt?

"Life is much simpler like this," he says. "A pretty maiden, a horse, and the bright sun."

[savyindeepspace]

Letting Go

Description: Caleb, always taking the lead, always the protector. Letting you take care of him for once.

Tags: fem reader x Caleb, smut, edging, teasing, whiny-breathy-whimpery Caleb, slight plot building and angst

(I’m edging y’all too sorry)

*MDNI* 🔞

——————————————

The Colonel pinched the space between his furrowed brow, expelling a breath that carried exhaustion. Another file to read, another report to send, another failed mission from the Fleet who worked below him. Each moment driving him into regret. Regret of falling into this position—this god awful title. Then there was you, his treasure he’d sworn to protect. The weight that balanced his scales. After the explosion of your childhood home, losing his arm—becoming partly machine in the process, he remembered his purpose, which made it seem worth it.

A purpose you never asked him to choose. Always hovering in your presence, waiting for the hat to drop, to be a savior. It didn’t matter how often you reassured him, Caleb fought to be by your side into adulthood. Then there’s you, a strong force of your own. Having survived trials that could only be written in fiction—your reality. Brave wasn’t enough of a word to describe your level of resilience through pain you should have never been given. Yet, you lived—spitefully so. Caleb knew this, he never doubted your ability, but his insecurities plagued him into this mess of a man who thought that was what you needed, a guardian. A knight.

“I don’t need saving, I need a partner. Someone who will stand beside me.”

A phrase you grew to repeat, one he winced at, one that he didn’t want to absorb. Yet, you watched him come home every day, fading from the vibrant Caleb you grew fond of—fell in love with. His eyes were dim and bloodshot, skin dulled from his usual rosy flush, lips chapped. He barely took care of himself aside from basic needs. He attempted to eat, went for his morning runs that usually became walks, sleep a rare luxury. All from inside a shell he wouldn’t let you crack. “I just think you should take some time off, even a few days. You look…unwell, Caleb,” you expressed with worry lingering on your voice. His fingers gripped the fork in his hand a little tighter, “you know I can’t do that—,” “why not? Are you just going to work yourself to death?,” you argued, slamming your glass against the kitchen table with more force than you intended.

You stared at your plate of barely picked over breakfast, heart flickering behind your ribs. “Why don’t you let me help with anything? I’m more than capable…” Caleb mirrored you, pushing his scrambled eggs dismissively with his fork. It was quiet between you for too long, you sighed, scraping your plate into the trash and closing yourself in the bedroom. His head hung, palms rubbing against his temples. There was a lot he needed to let go of and it worried him that you wouldn’t be present when he did.

He lightly tapped the door with his knuckles, “Pips—honey,” he caught the familiar, but juvenile nickname on his tongue, an attempt at leaving the past behind. “Headin’ out…love you,” he murmured. Your back was pressed against the other side, letting his words sink into your skin. Caleb waited for a reply, a hum—anything. “Be safe,” you uttered, the sting of your voice felt like road rash, but he’d take it anyway. You heard the front door close softly with hesitation, like he was waiting one last time for you to come to him. Guilt crawled over you like ivy, ‘I should have said it back’, the thought droned in your ears like a siren. Reaching for your phone, you hurriedly typed an ‘I love you too’ and hit send. A soft smile lifted the frown Caleb wore, “see you tonight,” he replied, taking to the skies in a Fleet aircraft.

The same monotonous day passed for the both of you, and although the morning carried a tension like thick fog, you wanted to resolve this unnerving feeling. Because at the end of the day, you needed each other equally as much—the thread of your fates tied in a perfect knot. When Caleb stepped through the threshold of the front door, a relieved sigh blew from his nose. In his arms were paper bags filled with groceries. You met him half way between the living room and kitchen, where carpet met hardwood. He looked at you apologetically, “I got ingredients for that dish you had at the restaurant we went to on my birthday..and your favorite candy.”

The bags crinkled as he set them on the counter, stepping closer to you and taking your hands. His were still covered by his leather gloves, the material was smooth and cool. Caleb’s thumbs rubbed small circles on the back of your hands, “I’m sorry…for not letting you in and making you think you’re not strong enough to help me,” his voice was low, filling the space that closed between you. Stepping closer, he continued, “I let my insecurities get the best of me for too long, not wanting to give up the role of protecting you,” his sunset eyes lifted, meeting your gaze. You hummed kindly and nodded, urging him to continue. “Sometimes…I think you’re stronger than me,” the warmth of your bodies was grounding when his arms finally pulled you in, “but I know now not to overstep, not to smother you.” His hold traveled down to your waist, your fingers traced his back.

“I do want to be taken care of sometimes…to be vulnerable,” he rasped, the breathy confession swept over your ear like a warm breeze, “I didn’t realize how much I needed it until now.”

You smiled, cupping his sharp jaw, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do for you, Caleb.” Hugging each other tighter, you felt his biceps squeeze you with confirmation, reverence—your fingers dug into the rough fabric of his Fleet uniform. “Why don’t you go take a shower, I’ll put everything away,” you encouraged, giving him his first glimpse of care. A flicker of hesitation in his eyes and flinch of his muscles almost took over him by instinct, then he nodded, breaking your embrace. “Thank you, I won’t keep you waiting,” “it’s okay if you do.” His silhouette disappeared down the hallway, before he slipped into the bathroom, Caleb looked at you one last time, before he’d return someone new, and grinned.

The scalding stream of water poured over his frame, reddening his skin like a liquid brand. Caleb was always seeking sensation, yearning for touch. When his arm was replaced with the bionic prosthetic, he lost the ability to feel everything, including you and that hurt him the most. Always the thrill chaser, pain was the only way his mechanical nerves would respond. So that’s what he asked for, to bite him, pinch him, scratch ruddy marks into his back. To claim him as yours. You were reluctant at first, but the yearn in his gaze and need of his touch broke you.

Tonight you wanted to touch him softly, tenderly—to melt his tension off the bone.

You waited for Caleb on the bed, legs tucked to your side. He walked in the bedroom in only his boxers and a towel draped over his shoulders. His soft brown hair was slightly damp and plastered to his face. Shamelessly you let your eyes roam over his body, drinking in every muscle, scar, bruise—biting your bottom lip at the sight of his happy trail peaking from the waistband of his underwear. Caleb sat at the edge of the bed, ruffling the towel over his chestnut locks. “You feel better?,” you asked, your voice carrying a warm, soft hint of mirth. “I do,” he sighed, craning his neck with a brief stretch. Taking notice of his discomfort, you crawled behind him, sinking your thumbs into his traps. A satisfied groan reverberated from his chest, his head fell back from relief. “That feels so good…could you do it harder?,” he asked sheepishly. You hummed, sitting on your knees and bracing yourself to massage him firmer.

“Like this?,” you cooed, lips brushing his ear. It was subtle, but your tone changed, just enough to sound sensual rather than soothing. Caleb reached back, palming the flesh of your thigh to ground himself. “Y-yes…and my neck too, please.” Your movements moved with a gentle flow, like ocean waves lapping the shore. He melted under your molten palms, letting a pleasured sigh break from his lips. “I needed this…,” his voice a trembling murmur. You kissed between his shoulder blades, “I know…” Your fingertips smoothed over his abs, making his breath hitch. “I want to give you more.”

“Honey—,”

“Shhh…you make commands every day, Colonel. Let me take the reins.”

The low purr of your voice loosened his tightened muscles, sinking him deeper into the mattress. You pursed your lips along his upper back, up his neck and against his earlobe. It was astonishing, for the first time, feather–light touches brewed something in him that pain didn’t. “Alright…” he breathed as he surrendered to your touch, leaning a little heavier against you, pressing into your bosom.

“Good boy,” you praised, making the first crack in his mirror of resolve.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, slipping your arms through his elbows to have a better reach. It started with teasing patterns on his chest, making him gasp when you’d “accidentally” graze a nipple. You moved down the rolling hills of his abs, then lightly sinking your nails in on the way up. Caleb hissed through gritted teeth, “baby—“ You pressed a finger to his lips, “you’re doing well, just relax.” He swallowed, fingers still digging into your thigh, his other hand fisting the sheets. A small flame began to rise in his gut, he felt hot—feverishly hot. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, and you licked it away swiftly with your tongue. He moaned, quietly, but it was the first pleasured sound that really made your ears perk up. “D’you like that?,” “mm-a lot,” his voice shook, a rosy blush blooming across his chest.

Boldly, you ran your finger under the elastic band of his boxers. Caleb almost caught your wrist, his arm twitched with anticipation. You noticed and grounded him with a trail of chaste kisses down his spine. “Keep going?,” you whispered against his skin.

“Please.”

You moaned, smoothing over his groin. He ached behind the thin fabric, so hard and desperate for friction. With your free hand you gave his clenched fist a reassuring pat, “I got you…” his fingers unfurled, a sharp gust of air broke from his lips. With one finger at a time, you breached the cotton barrier, tugging it down over his toned thighs. Caleb bit back a moan when the cool air met the heat of his throbbing length. You traced the prominent veins with your finger, “you’re so hard for me...” His cock twitched and breath stuttered, there was a slight curve in his back as he arched against you. A soft giggle vibrated through you, then you pushed him further, gliding a slow pass over his glossy tip with your thumb. Your lips closed around it, savoring the heady flavor.

“Can—can you hold it, please?”

You laced your fingers around the base, “of course I can, baby…,” he squirmed as you teased him with a single stroke, “can you spit on it for me?” A thick web of spit hung from his lips, your pupils dilated as it fell, making a wet plop against his crown. You let it run down the length before spreading it evenly with several languid pulls. “Haah—fuck…,” Caleb’s grip moved to your thigh again, his short nails slightly pinching the flesh. He grew more in your hand, you could feel his pulse fluttering against your palm. There was something so intoxicating about the drag of time you let pass between each stroke, it was a saccharine kind of addiction he could get used to. Caleb’s mind was murky, eyes screwed shut, breaths uneven. The contrast of your torturous ministrations paired with soothing praise made the hair on his nape stand.

“So good for me,” stroke “so patient,” you curled a second hand around him, increasing the pace, lightly squeezing his head at the top. A pained whimper caught in his mouth, “mmn, o–oh my god…!” His body leaned back, fully submitting to you. The tip of his cock wept with precum, the clear essence trickled over your fingers. “Yes, just like that baby, let it out for me—let it go,” you praised, your voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. Caleb’s hips began to roll and buck, a stinging heat was crawling up his body and his climax approached—and then you stopped. “Mm!, w-why’d you stop…?,” he whined, chest heaving and sweat rolling down the valley of his spine. You rubbed soothing patterns on his thighs, “I know baby, I know…just trust me.”

He sighed, conflicted with how intoxicating it was to be pent up, adding coals to stoke his flaming arousal, while begging—aching for release. This was just a taste of the kind of control you were exhibiting. You rested your hand on the planes of his throat, pulling his head back and melting a deep kiss against his parted lips. Just as he was feeling the high of your swirling tongues, you gripped him again, making him moan into your mouth. His noises were needy and desperate as you focused on the head, pumping it with reckless abandon. You could tell by the way he writhed when he was close—so you stopped again. “Please…just let me, I-I can’t take it,” his voice was raw with desperation. “Oh but you can, you’ve been so good up until now, don’t give out just yet,” you purred, petting his hair and kissing his neck.

There wasn’t much restraint left, Caleb was chipping away like a marble statue weathered by time and age. A part of you was proud of him for lasting this long, while something darker coiled in your belly. You tested him again, tapping his length firmly against your open palm. “Just,” slap “a little…” slap “longer.” Caleb chewed on the insides of his cheeks, trying to choke back the sounds erupting from his throat. Your fluid movements continued, increasing the pressure and speed as each minute passed. His breathing became erratic, he couldn’t help but thrust into your fist. You sank your teeth into his arm, pinching the flesh with your canines. “Don’t help me, you’re almost there…,” you said, keeping your voice at a sultry murmur.

“S’close baby, please—,” he pleaded, fighting back the urge to grind into your hand, to reach bliss at his own command. Holding him in both hands, you brought him closer to the edge, creating friction so delicious—so achingly tangible, he could taste it on his tongue. His moans were breathy, pretty and soft as you milked him dry, enough to finally reward him with release. “Ah—mmm, yes…like that. Please don’t stop again, baby.” You guided him to lean into your embrace, pressing your breasts against back. “That’s it, let it go, be a good boy for me and cum okay?”

The last crack split across his crumbling resolve. You felt his whole body tighten as he came. “F-fuck…I-I’m cumming so much…,” he gasped, spilling over your curled fingers like a geyser. Your hands kept their pace with each wave washing over him, allowing Caleb to finally grind through every pulse and throb. When the final ripple dissolved, his body fell slack in your arms, head resting on your shoulder. As he wound down, his breathing became more measured and calm, chest settling from its frantic heaving. You pursed reverent kisses to his temples, his jaw, his neck; peppering words of praise against his sweat dampened skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Caleb felt a tight pull in his chest where his heart strained. He regained a hair of strength, pulling you into an impassioned kiss. Your lips swept over each other’s like a slow dance, swirling your tongues and panting softly. A rosy blush warmed your cheeks as you pulled away, taking in his glazed expression. He pressed his forehead to yours, finally mustering his worn vocal cords to speak, “thank you…I love you…” “I love you too. I’m glad you let me show you.”

His hand slithered up your thigh, “but…I still feel like I have so much more to give you,” his voice no longer whiny, but dark and husky. “I’m still so full.”

Your cheeks became hot, there was a glimmer of something behind his eyes that sent a shiver through you. “Oh…,” you swallowed, inching closer to his lips, “what should we do about that?” When he heard the submission return in your tone, he moved with urgency, an insatiable hunger that tore through his body. Caleb caged you under his arms, “let me take care of you now…,” he growled, grazing your throat with his teeth. A soft moan fell from your lips, you couldn’t deny the heat blooming between your legs, how your arousal left a sticky mess in its wake.

Meeting his lidded gaze, you nodded, inviting him to take the lead. Caleb filled you deliberately again and again, indulging your deepest desires with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Your bodies stayed intertwined for what felt like hours. When you finally collapsed on the bed, the hint of dawn’s light leaked through the curtains, emitting a soft glow over your dewy skin. You were lulled to sleep by the soft combing of Caleb’s fingers through your hair.

A staticky sound filled the space, his Fleet signal rang in his ear, “Colonel, your feedback is needed on an urgent matter.” His gaze fell to your sleeping form nuzzled against his chest, your words played over repeatedly in his mind as his adjutant waited for a response. He brought a small device to his lips, speaking in a low, yet commanding tone, “this matter can wait,” “but sir—.” The signal was abruptly cut.

He held you tighter, choosing to be by your side. Not to protect you, not to smother, but to rest by your side. For once he was also choosing himself.

End.

*~*~*~*

Writers note: thank you so much for reading. :) Please do not steal or repost. More LADs Fics are pinned on my profile.

[bronzealchemy]

THE REUNION

In which Calebs and MCs reunion is a little more emotional than in game.

„It is you! Caleb … I must be dreaming.“

He grabs my hand, pulling it closer to his face. He is real. He is right here, under my fingertips. Warm, firm and full of life.

„It‘s me … it‘s okay. I‘m back.“

That is his voice, soft and melodic and once my favorite sound on earth. The same voice that told me bedtime stories when I got sick. It‘s as if my body reacts on its own, reaching out to him, clinging to him, hugging him. His arms close around me, pulling me close. He smells different, I realize. He also feels different. Harder; more muscular, as if he has been training more.

I still can‘t believe this is real. That he‘s here. That he is holding me after all of this time.

All of this time …

All of this time in which I have been crying myself to sleep.

All of this time in which I almost couldn’t get out of bed.

All those months I spent fighting to survive without him.

He has been here. He has been part of the Farspace Fleet, taking on the role of the Colonel who has been interrogating me not even a minute ago, with shackles around my wrists and a collar on my neck.

I can‘t quite grasp what is happening. Next thing I know, I push him away from me, heat flushing my cheeks. My breathing quickens, my hands start to shake. I clench my hands into fists, my nails forming half moons in the skin there.

Caleb reaches out to me, but I slap his hand away. An emotion flickers across his face, too fast for me to grasp.

„What is this?“, I ask, gesturing around.

„Come on“, he retorts. „I can explain.“

„You can?“ I scoff. „You can explain why you left me, mourning for you for over a year, even though you are completely fine? I hope this explanation is great, because for me the last few months have felt like …“ I interrupt myself when that emotion flickers across his face again, and now I realize what it is: hurt. He‘s hurt by my words.

„What have they felt like?“, he asks, making a step in my direction. I take one away from him. I can‘t do this. My hands shake, so does my voice, and if he comes closer, I will lose it.

„Don‘t do this.“ I hate how I sound like I‘m begging, and I‘m not even sure for what. For him to not break the last bit of my restraint?

„What have they felt like, Pipsqueak?“ His voice is gentle, with a rough edge. And those words … they are my last straw.

I push against him with full force. „Don‘t call me that!“ Again my fists land against his chest, harder this time. „You have no right to call me that.“

„I have every right.“

I push him again, my fists against his rigid chest, and his words echo in my head. His voice from the past, mixing with this new and unknown version of him I can‘t quite grasp, and its just too much. My hands shake so bad I can‘t push him again, so they just lay on his chest. A sob wants to emerge from my throat, but I hold it back with all my might. Calebs hands close around my wrists. He holds them tightly against his chest.

„Hit me again, Pips. We both know I deserve it“, he whispers.

I squint my eyes shut, so I don‘t see his. A few moments ago I wondered if this was really him, but looking into his eyes should have been enough of an answer. If I don’t see him, maybe I won’t break.

„Hit me again.“

I shake my head.

„Do what you must. Do it if you think it will lessen your pain.“ He leans forward, his forehead against mine. „But don‘t believe for one second this past year hasn‘t torn me to shreds.“

The first sob escapes my lips, breaking my restraint. My shoulders start to shake. His forehead is still against mine, his hands still hold me close to him, but this vicinity doesn’t keep my soul from breaking apart once more.

„Why?“, I plea. „Why would you do this to me?“

„I had no choice.“

I shake my head. „You broke me. You broke me so completely, I became a shell of myself.“

„That‘s not true.“ He holds me tighter. „You‘re the strongest person I know.“

„Not anymore.“

„I didn‘t think our reunion would start with a fight, but if you want to, we can start arguing.“

I‘m almost at a point where I want to hit him again. Almost.

Caleb keeps holding me, whispering soothing words, wiping away the tears. I let him, because I don‘t have it in me to push him away again.

„I‘m here“, he whispers. „And I would rather die than leave you again.“

I would love nothing more than to believe him.

But unfortunately I don‘t.

No matter how real and how good his nearness feels—he left me alone. And now he acts as if nothing happened and everything will be okay again.

The Caleb from my past would have never hurt me this bad. I‘m not sure who he now is. He looks like my Caleb, sounds like him … but theres an undeniable change. And I will find out everything that happened and who kept him from me. Even if it‘s the last thing I‘ll do.

[vixensdungeon]

Hello, my little woodland critters. Today just for fun I'm going to walk you through the process of generating a character for the original 1974 edition of Dungeons & Dragons. I'm just going to use Men & Magic for this one but might do another one later with the supplements!

First, we get some dice. Three six-sided ones to be exact. I'm actually going to grab some with pips rather than numbers because that feels more authentic. Then, we roll and record their sum, repeating five more times, generating six ability scores. Here we go!

Strength 9 Intelligence 17 Wisdom 12 Constitution 16 Dexterity 13 Charisma 13

Yippee! As a witch these make me very happy indeed.

Next, we'll pick a class to play. Based on the abilities I rolled I'm of course going to pick the magic-user (the witch class didn't exist yet, alas). And as a magic-user, I'm actually allowed to futz with the numbers a bit, removing two points from Wisdom to gain an extra point in Intelligence. This gives us our finalised array, and we can now know the effects of each ability on the character.

Strength 9: no effect Intelligence 18: +10% to earned experience, eight extra languages Wisdom 10: no effect Constitution 16: +1 to each hit die, 100% chance to survive certain spells Dexterity 13: +1 to missile fire Charisma 13: maximum of 5 hirelings with +1 loyalty

Okay, languages. The character speaks the common tongue of the continent she lives in, along with an alignment language. I'm going to pick Neutral as my alignment so that's the language I speak. I also speak eight creature languages, which I'm going to pick later.

For equipment, we're going to grab our trusty 3d6 again, roll them, and mulitply by ten to find out how many gold pieces we have. I rolled 10, so I have 100 GP. I'm going to buy a dagger, the only weapon a magic-user is allowed. In addition I will buy 50' of rope, a large sack (for treasure), a leather back pack, a water skin, six torches, a flask of oil, a small silver mirror, a bunch of wolvesbane (in case of werewolves), a bunch of belladonna, and a bug of garlic (in case of vampires, or pizza). Not sure what the belladonna is useful for but you can never be too sure. This leaves me with 48 gold pieces that I will use to buy rations when I'm heading on an expedition of some sort. To calculate my encumbrance, I add my dagger's weight in gold pieces (20) to that of my miscaellanoues equipment (always 80, though a referee is allowed to make sure this stays within reason), for 100 GP of weight. I'm well within the limit for light foot movement, which will likely mean I'll have the responsibility of hauling loot out of the dungeon. Maybe I should invest in a second sack…

As a magic-user of the 1st level, I am titled a Medium, and will require 2,500 experience points to reach 2nd level (Seer). I roll 1 die (six-sided), adding +1 for my Constitution getting a total of 2… Tha'ts how many hits my magic-user can take before death. Let's hope she rolls better on the next level, assuming she survives. She fights with the strength of one man!

I can memorise one 1st level spell for my journey. Not knowing what I might face in the dungeon, I pick something witchy that I think can really save the group's butts: Sleep. All level 1 spells are in my spellbook so I don't need to worry about which ones I can memorise.

And that's pretty much it! Now we just give the character an imaginative name… How about Naiviv?

Onwards to adventure and glory, Naiviv the Medium!