velaenam

[velaenam]

Hello beautiful. I just read crash landing into my heart and it was amaaaazing I loooved it, I loved the writing style and everything about it. I was wondering if you are planning on making it a series ? But other than that thank you for this blog, sometimes i find myself missing Caleb hahaha so your blog is feeding my delusions. Thank you !!

hey gorgeous, thank you so much for the sweet words. it is indeed a series!! but i am just so busy with life atm that i haven't gotten round to publishing anything. i've written some here and there when i can. but fear not, i have many things coming up for it!

[velaenam]

dirty diana (smut)

colonel!caleb x lieutenant!reader (non!mc) synopsis: after a brutal mission, there's nothing caleb wants to do more than to mate press you. tags: NSFW (18+) RAW. NASTY. SMUT!!! creampie, penetration (p to v), clit stimulation, overstimulation, really REALLY rough sex, groping, swearing, use of gravity evol during sex, praising, pet names, aftercare, smut w/ sorta plot notes: title is this cuz idk i was really inspired to make a sensual fic after repeatedly listening to michael jacksons dirty diana instrumental. it sounds like sultry sex  n so here is just that — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated.

the base is still humming with tension as you and your colonel make your way down the dim corridor, boots echoing sharply against the reinforced floors. the mission had been brutal. losses, near failures, bodies too close to the line– and yet, you both walked out of it standing. everyone who passes by offers stick and respectful salutes, their eyes filled with awe with a touch of fear. caleb, towering besides you, doesn’t flinch. his expression is unreadable, all sharp angles. you don’t say a word either. your voice still caught between exhaustion and restraint. you feel the weight of the day settle heavier in your chest with every step as you near.

it wasn’t until you’re both inside his office, the door shutting with a soft hiss behind you, that the chill in the air begins to melt. caleb exhales slowly, shoulders dropping. 

his clouded and stormy eyes find yours– and suddenly, they weren’t so cold anymore.

he doesn’t speak right away. he just stands there, watching you with those sharp and unreadable eyes. then slowly, he steps forward, the space between you shrinking with every unhurried stride. his gloved hand lifts, gently brushing along your cheek before cupping it, tilting your face to meet his. the touch is so careful it almost doesn’t match the man everyone else saluted minutes ago. his thumb grazes your skin as his voice lowers into something only you ever get to hear:

“are you hurt?”  he asks softly and unguarded. like you being in pain meant more to him than anything. 

you offer him a small tired smile. warm, despite the blood and dust smeared across your skin. his breath hitches. of course it does. especially when you smile like that. caleb leans in, slow and hungry, drawn to you like a marn starved. his nose brushes along your temple as he inhales deeply, like hes memorizing your scent, anchoring himself with it, “you shouldn’t be putting yourself in the line of fire like that,” he murmurs, voice rough with something deeper than frustration. his other hand finds your waist, fingers flexing slightly, tugging your closer, “i don’t care what the mission is, i’ll protect you, always.” the vow whispered against your skin, his lips brushing just beneath your ear as his hands begin to roam.

you giggle softly, the sound light and teasing against the weight of his words, “but then whos going to watch your back, colonel?” you murmur, your fingers slipping up to toy with the front of his uniform, eyes twinkling with mischief, “can’t have you gettin’ all heroic without me.” the look you give him is so soft, so trusting that it’s almost cruel…to him– like you don’t even realize how easily you’re unraveling him. caleb pulls back just a little, blinking as if you’ve short circuited something in him. his jaw clenches, breath uneven. you can see it in the way his throat bobs when he swallows. the faint flare in his nostrils indicating how just one sweet smile from you sends his heart into overdrive.

his eyes darken with intent as he closes the space again, gaze flicking from your lips to your eyes– hungry and determined. his hands slide up your back, guiding your closer, and he dips his head, just barely brushing your mouth with his.

but before he can claim the kiss, you slip out of his grasp with a little laugh, circling behind him with that same infuriatingly sweet tone you always use when you’re being cheeky, “debrief time, sir.” you say over your shoulders, already moving toward his desk, your voice so bright and bubbly all the sudden, “enemy contact confirmed at the north sector. hostels down, one injured. we extracted and secured the point.” you shoot him a quick glance as you speak– eyes wide with innocence, lips quirking in a grin you know drives him crazy. caleb turns slowly, watching you like a hawk, stunned that you had the audacity to tease him now, of all times.

he slowly walks past you. the soft click of the door locking echoes louder than it should. you freeze, heartbeat tripping. caleb doesn’t say a word. his gloved fingers move to the collar of his uniform jacket, unfastening it with deliberate slowness– eyes never leaving yours. the moment the fabric slides off his broad shoulders, your knees threaten to give, heat blooming fast in your core.

you barely manage to make it to the chair beside his desk, sitting down more to steady yourself than anything else. he notices and his lips curl just slightly, dark amusement flashing in his gaze. “didn’t even touch you..” he murmurs, voice low and smooth like velvet dragged over, “and you’re already trembling..” 

you barely have time to breathe before his hands wrap around your wrist and pulls you to your feet. the next moment, he’s turning you around, guiding you forward until your hands brace against the cool surface of his desk. his body follows, chest pressing just close enough to feel the heat of him at your back, but not close enough to touch. one hand glides slowly up your spine, trailing heat with every pass of his fingertips, while the other settles low on your waist, thumb stroking over the edge of your belt, “look at you…” he mumbles, voice husky and commanding, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “so so obedient…” his hand skims up your side, fingers grazing just beneath your uniform top before slipping away again, “you turn into this sweet little tease…” he doesn’t touch where you need him the most. he’s savoring this, drawing it out like a canvas. 

you try to play it cool.. truly, you do. your voice lifts, breathy but defiant, “y-you’re the one getting all w-worked up caleb..” you mutter, hoping the words land sharp, like the tease you intended. but the second his lips press to the nape of your neck, your breath catches in your throat. his hands are everywhere— sliding over your hips, up your ribs, fingertips brushing just under your bra with sweet restraint. another kiss lands just behind your ear, followed by a soft bite that makes your knees wobble again. you try to speak, to stay in control, but your words dissolve into a shuddered exhale, “c-caleb” his name slips out like a confession, and he chuckles low, already knowing what he’s doing to you, “not so mouthy now..” he whispers against your skin, every syllable thick with an underlying promise, “what happened to that sharp tongue, lieutenant?” 

his hands keep exploring every inch of you like he’s memorizing the shape of you (by ed sheeran) the weight of your exhaustion, the parts of you only he’s allowed to touch, but then just when you think he’s going ot keep teasing, his tone shifts. his lips find your shoulder, brushing softly against the fabric of your uniform as his hand settles just above your heart. “you were incredible out there..” he whispers, voice lower now, almost tender, 

“every move.. every call.. i was watching you the whole time…. you want that promotion right..?” 

a pause

“sorry. just kidding” he chuckles and you roll your eyes, “then i’d have my own lieutenant. do you reallllly wanna share?” you muse, and this time he shuts up.  he smiles against your skin as he lets out a muffled but soft laugh

another kiss, slower this time, pressed just below your jaw, “so composed. so precise. you kept the group alive. you kept me alive.” his hand comes up to your hair, tipping your head just enough for him to kiss your temple, “i’ve never trusted anyone the way i trust you.” the praise sinks into your skin like warm sun. it spreads from the inside out, making your breath hitch. from the arousal to the weight of his words. it was heavy with respect, laced with his undying love for you.

his fingers move to your collar next, slow and steady, tugging at the fastenings of your uniform jacket, “you don’t even know what you do to me..” caleb kisses the back fo your neck as the fabric begins to slide from your shoulders, “i don’t just respect you.. i adore you.” the word lands heavy and raw. stripped of all the control he usually holds, “the way you move.. the way you think.. the way you smile..” he peels your jacket away, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud, exposing the warmth of your skin to his touch. his palms glide along your bare arms now, “i could spend the rest of my life learning every inch of your and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

each kiss that follows is slower, more sensual– along your shoulder, your spine, the space between your ear.

you gasp softly as the cool air of his office brushes over your newly exposed skin, his fingers now working with delicate precision as he undresses you piece by piece. your breathing quickens, a soft moan slipping past your lips when he brushes his thumbs along your lower back, just above the curve of your ass. goosebumps rise in waves. you feel his gaze dragging over every inch of you like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever seen. like you were a goddess and he was your follower. 

when he lowers your panties, he exhales slowly behind you, then gently– he presses down on the small of your back, guiding you to bend slightly over the desk. his hands find your ass, palms kneading with a touch both greedy and worshipful, pulling you apart just enough to make your breath hitch. “you’re beautiful.” caleb mutters and you whimper when he leans in, hips pressing against you, hard and deliberate. “are you ready for me..?” his voice is low, hoarse with restraint.

caleb rolls his hips against you, deliberately slow, his cock grinding against your slick entrance without pushing in– just enough to make your breath come out in broken gasps. each teasing pass sends a jolt of heat spiraling through your core, thighs trembling as you grip the edge of his desk tighter. he’s murmuring again, voice thick and low, like he’s drunk on the feel of you. “so wet for me.. and i haven’t even started yet..” he groans, dragging his tip along your folds, savoring your every twitch and whimper. 

but you’ve had enough.

with a frustrated moan, you shove your hips back into him, forcing him inside you in one slick heated push. both of you grasp- his hands immediately clenching around your waist, yours flattening harder against the desk as pleasure crashes over you in a hot, staggering wave. “fuck–” caleb breathes, eyes fluttering shut as his head drops forward, dizzy from the sudden depth, the way you took him. 

but you don’t stop there. you start to move, rolling your hips, throwing it back tinto him, with a purpose.  a messy hungry purpose. his grip tightens, his control slipping with every thrust you give him, “g-goddamn it-” he grows, breath running ragged, “you’re gonna fucking milk me dry-”

he tries– god he really tries– to hold on, but the way you moved against him, the filthy sound of your bodies meeting, the way you were taking him so willingly. it shreds the last threads of his discipline. 

with a growl, he grabs your hips and slams into you, burying himself to the hilt with a sharp snap of his hips that make you absolutely cry the fuck out, your hands scrambling for any sympathy from the desk, “no.” he pants, voice ragged with lust, “not like that. you don’t get to take control then pretend nothing happened.” his hand tangles itself into your hair, yanking your head back to expose the curve of your throat. his mouth is on you immediately– biting– sucking. branding your skin with hickeys. 

he’s fucking you now with no hesitation,each thrust punishing and deep, his other hand landing a hard smack on your ass that echoes through the room. you whimper, clench, and he groans, low and guttural, at how tightly your body reacts to him, “like that?” he hisses against your neck, biting down just enough to make your eyes snap shut, “you want it harder, lieutenant?  use your words.”  

caleb doesn’t let up. he doesn’t let you speak. if anything– he fucks you harder– slamming into you over and over with a feral pace, the sound of skin meeting skin raw and obscene in the still air. you’re crying out his name like it’s the only owrd you remember, each syllable, a desperate moan, a plea, a praise, “c-caleb! f-fuck! c-colonel–” you’re sobbing, voice breaking, eyes glossed and unfocused. he grits his teeth, hips pistoning with brutal rhythm, his groans low and wrecked.

and then, with a strangled growl, he drives deep and stills– cumming hard inside you, his grip bruising around your hips as his dick throbs, filling you to the brim, his cum coming out of you and dripping everywhere. you follapse forward onto the desk, chest heaving, legs shaking

but he wasn’t done.

you barely register the sudden shift in weight before you’re lifted– gravity bending to his will. your body floats, slick and trembling, as he pulls you upright against his chest. his arm warps right around your middle section, grounding you, while the invincible pull of his evol drags your hips back down– right onto his still hard cock.

you scream, fingers clawing at his forearm as he starts fucking you again, this time, midair, each thrust powered by the impossible push-pull of his body and his grav. manipulation. you’re weightless but locked in place, taken over and over without a single inch of escape. your eyes roll back, mouth falling open as you babble- no words now– just broken breathless sounds.

your body is trembling, completely at his mercy– suspended in the air, stuffed full of him, stretched and used and loved in equal measure. calebs thrust keep coming, unforgiving and deep, his cock grinding into you with mind numbing precision. your cries are wrecked now– high and desperate sounds that echo off the office walls. your eyes rolled back, mouth slack, drooling between stammered gasps, “you’re doing so good for me.” he whispers into your ear, voice suddenly so tender but shaking with restraint as he feels your walls fluttering around him, “my good girl.. taking me so perfectly.” his free hand slides between your legs, and the moment his fingers find your clit– you shatter.

you scream his name as your entire body tenses, then convulses violently in his arms, squirting around his cock with a gush that soaks him, “fuck– look at that.” he groans, rutting into you through it, watching with wide wild eyes as your body gives him everything, “s-so beautiful.. so f.. fucking perfect..” you’re shaking, twitching in overstimulation, subbing into the air as your legs jerk and your muscles seize, but he holds you tight, grounding you with one strong arm while his evol keeps you just where he wants you.

and then it hits him. with a deep broken moan, caleb buries himself one last time, cock pulsing hard as he cums inside you again– hot thick and deep. his hips grind to a stop as he lets out a ong trembling breath, his chest heaving against yours. slowly, gravity softens. he releases the pull, cradling your limp soaked body in his arms before gently laying you back down on the desk like you were porcelain. his fingers brush your cheek, his touch so achingly soft now it almost makes you cry again, “you were amazing, my perfect girl.” he whispers against your temple. 

your limbs feel like jelly, every nerve still buzzing from how completely he wrecked you. but caleb doesn’t leave you there undone and trembling. he gathers you into his arms without a word, holding you close against his chest. you hear the soft hum of the door sliding open behind you– it leads to a small private bathroom attached to his office. he carried you inside with care, settling you gently on the counter.

he runs warm water into the basin, soaking a soft cloth as you watch him with hazy, adoring eyes. calebs expression has changed completely– no longer dark, no longer ravenous. just open and loving. devoted. he kneels in front of you and with a slow careful move, begins to clean you up, the rag warm and gentle as he wipes between your thighs. every so often he murmurs soft things under his breath: praise, affection, things he’d only ever said in quiet moments. “i’ve never wanted someone like i want you.” he brushes your cheeks again, “you don’t even know what you mean to me.” 

when he finishes, he helps you back into your clothes one piece at a time. hands steady.

once your jacket is fastened again, he pulls you into his arms and slowly kisses you. his hands cradle your face, lips pressing to yours, like a promise. 

when he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and he whispers, “you’re mine. always.” 

taglist — @rcvcgers @miffysoo

[velaenam]

please be kind to others. you don’t know what they’re going through. and to say stupid shit like that to an author who works so hard is just such a disappointing thing to see.

grace you’re treasured by everyone that reads your stories. you’ve had us glued to our screens till 5 am (that’s how I met you. read ra till 4 an n dmed you telling you to stop playin with me n my feelings) you’ve had us crying nonstop, had us giggling n kicking our feet. we eat up every material you write no matter who and what it’s about.

those who love you and what you bring to our lives will wait for you no matter how long you take.

we love you pookie!!

hey everyone,

i just wanted to swing by and let you all know that i have closed my inbox for the time being. while i love seeing what you all have to say, i have received a few anonymous messages that have left a bitter taste in my mouth.

in short, these messages have basically demanded that i abandon all of my other works/series in favor of rotten apples.

while i love the enthusiasm for the story, i do not appreciate being spoken to like that nor do i appreciate it when people demand that i write something for them while demeaning the other work i make on here.

i put so much time, effort, and energy into all of the stories/series/one shots that i post on here. i do it for the love of the love and deepspace game, the amazing fandom and friends that i have been so lucky to meet on here, and for my love of writing, but getting messages like the ones i have gotten in the past week has killed my motivation for writing these stories that i have poured my soul into.

so, my inbox is closed for the time being and updates/uploads are officially on pause while i try to get some muse back for these stories.

thank you for reading, i hope you all have a great rest of your day!

[velaenam]

courtside sins

basketball player!caleb x cheerleader!nonmc reader tags: NSFW (18+) RAW. NASTY. SMUT!!! creampie, penetration (p to v), clit stimulation, groping, swearing, smut w/ sorta plot we just tryna bang caleb ngl — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated.

the gym is electric! stomping feet, whistles, screaming fans packed tight into the stands– but all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. caleb’s got the ball. shot clock ticking down. sweat glistens down his neck as he dribbles past the last defender, eyes locked on the hoop. you’re front and center on the sideline in your cheer uniform, pom-poms gripped right in your hands, “let’s go, number 5!” you shout louder than anyone else. 

it cuts through the noise!

his eyes flicked to you– just for a second– and that is all it takes. you see it in his face; he heard you! that cocky smirk flickers across his lips right before he takes a leap, muscles coiling as he sinks the shot– buzzer screaming!

the crowd erupts– screaming echos off the gym walls, and you can barely hear your own damn voice as you chant along with your squad, launching into your celebratory routine. you flip, kick, throw your arms in the air, adrenaline high and cheeks flushed. state champions. the win tastes sweet, but nothing compared to the way he’s looking at you across the court. 

caleb shoves past his teammates, brushing off the pat on his back, and makes a beeline for you. your pom-poms hit the floor just in time for him to grab you by the waist, lift you off the ground, and spin you in a tight circle, sweat drenched and grinning wide.

“thank you. did that for you.” he breathes into your ear, voice rough, chest heaving. his hands linger a little too long on your hips, and you don’t stop him. 

before you can respond, he’s pulled away– swallowed by the swam of teammates, reporters, and coaches flooding the court. everybody wants a piece of him. cameras were flashing, arms were wrapping around him. someone shoves a towel at his chest and another hand grasps his shoulder. but even as he talks, nods, and plays the part of the mvp, his eyes would drift back to you.

he manages to break away for half a second, weaving through the chaos just long enough to lean in close for you to be the only one to hear him;

“locker room. 30 minutes. i need you.” his voice is low, rough and urgent. it wasn’t a request– it was a promise– a demand.

your knees buckle, and your lips part to grasp.  your pulse is already pounding for a completely different reason.

then he’s gone again, smiling for the crowd.

.

you don’t wait the full 30 minutes. 

the noise of the celebration fades behind you as you slip through the back hallway, cheer uniform brushing your thighs, every step echoing on the waxed floor. the locker room door is ahead- slightly ajar, the overhead lights humming softly inside. your hearts thudding so hard you swear it might rip out your chest.

you push the door open, slowly, letting it creak just enough to announce you. it was empty. warm. the air smelled of sweat, victory, and… axe?

you walk past the lockers one by one, fingers grazing cool metal, until you reach the row where his things always are. your back presses against one of the doors as you wait, stomach tight with heat and anticipation. you can still feel his hands on your hips from the court, still hear that growl in your ear– i need you.

you’re not sure what’s going to happen when he walks through that door. 

.

the door clicks shut behind you– and then it opens again.

you don’t even have time to speak before caleb steps through. the moment his eyes find you the tension snaps. he’s still in his uniform, jersey peeled off the slung over his shoulder, skin slick with sweat and flushed from adrenaline. that look in his eyes? it’s not the cocky grin he gives reporters. it’s darker. hungrier. just for you.

“you waited.” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel smoothed by heat.

“i always do..” you answer, barely above a whisper.

in two strides he’s in front of you, one hand braced on the locker beside your head, the other already gripping your waist, pulling you in. “you don’t know what you do to me out there,” he mutters, breath brushing your lips, “the way you scream my name..” he groans, head tipping back slightly like he’s trying to restrain himself, but he can’t– not tonight. “the way you move in that skirt.”

then he kisses you– hard. no hesitation, no warm up. just heat and teeth and weeks of tension finally breaking open in the dark.

the kiss turns frantic fast– his mouth claiming yours like it’s owed, like the win wasn’t complete until he had you like this. your back slams softly against the locker, the cool metal contrast the heat flooding your body. caleb’s hands are everywhere– one tangled in your hair, the other sliding down, rough palm catching the hem of your skirt.

“been thinking about this all game,” he growls against your mouth, voice thick and shaky with need, “you cheering for me like that… jumping around in that damn skirt… do you know what that does to me…” he mumbles hungrily

you gasp when his fingers trail up your thigh, under your skirt now, dragging slow over your skin with purpose. his touch is firm– like he already knows every place that makes you squirm. your legs part for him instinctively, the air between you charged and electric. his breath hitches, his eyes flicking down as he grins darkly. “no shorts underneath?” he murmurs, “bad girl.”

you’d took it off before he came in.

he doesn’t move further. his fingers stay right at the edge, maddeningly close but never quite touching where you need him. instead, he just smirks, like he’s already won twice tonight. once on the court, and now here, with you trembling beneath his hands.

“you came in here like this on purpose, didn’t you?” caleb whispers, mouth brushing along the shell of your ear, “no shorts.. no shame..” he drawls, lips dragging along your neck, slow and lazy, “what were you hoping i’d do? take you right here? make you mine again– while the rest of them think i’m still giving interviews?”

your fingers dig into his shoulders as he drags his hand up your inner thigh again, feather-light. every muscle in your body tightens, aching for him to stop teasing and do something. but he’s enjoying this– watching you squirm, seeing how badly you want him to break.

“you should see yourself right now” he mutters, eyes locked on yours, “so needy.. so fucking pretty when you beg..” 

he pauses, fingers still hovering. your pulse is in your throat. “tell me.. what do you want, baby?”

he doesn’t wait for you to say it. instead, caleb grabs your wrist, spinning you around with dizzying ease, then pulls you down the row of lockers. the sink and mirror come into view, silver and fluorescent lit, as he presses you hard against the counter, your palms catching on the edge.

“look,” he growls, positioning himself behind you. “his hand splays across your lower back, holding you there as he nudges your legs apart with his knee, “you don’t even know what you do to me, do you? look at yourself– watch what you turn me into..” he presses himself on your ass– his dick already hard.

the mirror reflects your flushed cheeks, wide eyes. the way his tall frame towers behind you. all muscle, hunger, and restraint stretches thin. he hikes your skirt up slowly, painfully slowly, exposing you fully in the mirror, his fingers ghosting over your skin.

“this is what I wanted..” he murmurs, dragging his knuckles up your inner thigh, “you.. just like this.. mine..”  he tugs his shorts off, skinagainst your own.

you barely have time to breathe before you feel him press against you even harder. caleb’s grip tightens on your hips as he leans in, his mouth brushes your ear again, voice low and possessive, “keep your eyes up,” he commands, “don’t look away.” 

expert fingers hook onto your panties, tugging them to the side. his dick sliding between your thighs. you were dazed. mind in space. your juices start to coat him as he starts to move slowly, his shaft teasing your folds. your eyes locked onto his gaze, a blush creeping on your face. you were lost for words. 

absolutely fucking lost.

then– he thrusts in– deep and sudden– and the sound rips from your throat is half gasp, half moan. one of his hands clamps over your mouth just in time to muffle it, palm broad and rough, the other anchoring your hips in place as he starts to move– hard and deliberate.

the mirror trembles with every motion. your reflection blurs with every rock of his hips. lashes fluttering as you try– and fail– not to melt under the weight of him. caleb groans behind you, head falling forward against your shoulder, “fuck baby..” he murmurs against your skin, “you feel so fucking good..” he pants, pace picking up, “so tight..” he coos, so lost.

your hands grip the sink for dear life, knuckles white. your eyes keep catching his in the glass– wild, dark, and locked on you like you’re the only thing here right now. “you’re mine..” caleb growls again, “say it..” 

you try to speak– you really do. but all that comes out is a broken whimper, your mouth falling open against his palm as your body rocks with his every thrust. words feel impossible, lost in the haze of heat, and pressure building fast and sharp inside you. your eyes plead through the mirror, and he sees it– of course he does.

“tried to be sweet.” caleb mutters, voice raw and breathless now. “but you don’t need words, do you, baby?”  his hand leaves your mouth, sliding down your front with a slow drag of fingers that find your aching center, circling and taunting, “you’ll tell me with this..” 

“y-you idiot!” you half scream half whisper, “ t-tried m-my ass… y-you didn’t let me– talk!” you say in between ragged breathing and moans. your back arches, thighs shaking as he sinks deeper, his fingers working you in time with his hips until you’re right on the edge– held open and helpless, pinned between the sink, and the full weight of him behind you. 

he watches every twitch, every moan, every desperate press of your hips against him. 

“you’re saying it now.” he grunts, pace snapping into something rougher, more desperate. “you’re saying it with how you’re moving.” your answers before you can. you clench around him, head falling back against his shoulder as a cry tears rom your throat, your release crashing over you like a wave. but caleb doesn’t stop– not until he’s spilling into you with a low guttural sound. chest pressed against your back, lips against your neck as you both come down.

he pulls out slowly, dragging a moan from both of you, and you nearly collapse against the sink– legs shaking, chest heaving. but before you can fully catch you breath, caleb’s hands are already back on your waist, guiding you away from the mirror with that same intensity in his eyes. 

“not done-” he breathes, voice husky and rough. “get on the bench.” you don’t question it– because you can’t. he drops onto the wooden bench lining the lockers, legs spread wide, sweat-slick skin gleaming under the harsh overhead light. he pulls you into his lap like he owns you, and maybe he does. your hands find his shoulders as you straddle him, still in your uniform, skirt flipped up and forgotten. 

his hands grip your thighs, sliding up slowly, possessively, and he lets out a shaky breath as you sink down onto him again. the stretch burns, raw, and perfect, and his head falls back with a low groan.

“that’s it baby..” he whispers, eyes dark and fixed on where your bodies join. “ride me.. just like that..” 

you start to move– slow at first, letting him feel everything, every grind of your hips. he groans again, hands sliding under your skirt to grip your ass, guiding your rhythm. 

you set the rhythm first; slow, rolling your hips against him in smooth, deliberate circles, letting him feel how deep he is inside and how wet you still are. caleb’s jaw clenches, his hands gripping tighter, his eyes locked on yours like he’s daring you to keep going at that pace. you smirk, just a little, riding the high of having him this crazed beneath you.

“you like watching me fall apart for you, huh?” he mutters, voice thick with arousal and something a little hidden, “think you’re in control now?” 

you don’t answer. you just keep moving, slow and deep. hands planted on his chest as you grind down hard, a quiet whimper escaping your throat as his cock hits that perfect spot. 

then– he moves.

his hands slide to your hips and slam you down onto him harder, faster, stealing your breath mid-moan. he thrusts up into you from below with a rough rhythm that makes your thighs tremble and your back arch.

each snap of his hips steals whatever control you thought you had, until you’re a mess in his lap– moaning, panting, clinging to him. holy fuck.

“i’ll let you ride me.” he grits out, lips brushing your ear, fighting back a groan, “but don’t forget who’s really fucking you.” 

your hands claw at his shoulders now, nails digging in as the pace starts to turn brutal– neither of you bothering to hold back anymore. caleb’s breathing is ragged against your neck, his mouth catching on your skin between curses and praise. his thrusts from below meet every roll of your hips perfectly, the sound of your bodies slapping together echoing through the empty locker room. 

your name falls from his lips, rough, desperate, as his hand slides between your bodies, thumb circling that sensitive bundle of nerves with maddening accuracy. you cry out, his stuttering, and he knows– that you’re close– again.

“come on baby..” he whispers, “want to feel you fall apart on me again.. let go.. i’ve got you.” 

you do

your body locks up for a second, thighs clenching around him, and then he crashes over you– blinding, breathless, a mess of trembling limbs and broken sounds as you cum all around him. caleb curses under his breath, holding you tight as he follows, thrusting up hard one final time before he grabs you by the back of your head, lips colliding with yours.

you’re still trembling when he lifts you off his lap. arms strong but movements slow and careful. he murmurs a soft ‘i love you’ barely enough to hear, as he kisses your temple and runs a hand down your spine to soothe the aftershocks.

then he slips his hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you in his scent. it was warm and oversized. his sweats follow, tied loose around your waist, your uniform stuffed in his duffel bag.

you’re exhausted– limbs heavy, brain foggy with bliss– but he crouches in front of you with a smile that’s all soft and cute, “come on baby girl” he says, tilting his head, “i’ll carry you.”

you don’t argue. you climbed onto his back, resting your cheek against his shoulder as he hoists you with ease, one hand beneath your thigh, the other steady at your knee. the locker room lights hum behind you as he walks through the hallway and out the door.

when he gets to the car he opens the door with one hand, sets you gently in the passenger seat and buckling your seatbelt before brushing a kiss on your forehead. 

“still my favorite win.” 

taglist : @rcvcgers, @miffysoo

[velaenam]

thank you for writing such masterpieces 🙏 your words truly helped me get through the day :))) they distracted me from reality in the best way possible—I didn’t even realize how much I needed them until I read your fics. I'm genuinely grateful. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t come across your blog and scrolled through it 🥹 It felt like your stories were speaking for me. I hope you never get tired of writing them. thank you, truly. 🥹💓

whose crying cuz im NOT

thank you SO much for sending this. truly.

i started writing lads fics for my own amusement and (vague)experiences. i figured that id plop them over on tumblr and if people decide to read em, then heck yeah!

but i didn't anticipate people actually sticking around and waiting for more. i am so grateful for your message because it makes me feel happy to know that i contribute a little bit of happiness into this world that isn't my own.

i love you all very much and your likes/reblogs/comments mean very much to me. as always, if you want to talk to me about ideas or your thoughts on my stories, my dms are always open. (i will respond when i can ofc)

thank you for taking the time out of your day to write something heartfelt to me. it means more to me than you know!

[velaenam]

Duty's Cruel Embrace, 3

Chapter Three: Past and Present

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18+ MINORS DNI

pairing ; prince!xavier x princess!reader

synopsis ; you and xavier journey to the port of tartus where your first betrothed awaits you.

word count ; 14.6k words

author's note ; hi everyone! i am so sorry about the delay in updates! i am trying my best to work on these chapters asap!! i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

trigger warning ; mentions of death, alcohol use, weapons, xav and reader make out and he gets just a little handsy, light sexism, talks of political marriage, let me know if i missed anything!

my ladies in waiting ♛ °˖✧ @velaenam , @schwnapps , @massivenutkid , @celestialforce , @exitingmusic , @zeskyzed , @eve-ishu , @underfcvcked , @duffyinwonderland , @hiqhkey , @dooopiee , @awkward-stierle , @justpassingdontworry , @queenkymmie , @miffysoo , @kazbrkker , @applepi405 , @flamedancer13 , @prplbunny , @loreleis-world , @animecrazy76 , @emo4r , @crazygirl3001 , @creator-freak , @spacenott , @luckypup0506 , @wltneko9006 , @wonys-won , @sh4do3 , @witchbybirth

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please go check out @velaenam 's story domina of the east! there are light spoilers for her story in this chapter <3

The crown prince of Philos remained close to you after you left the king’s tent. He remained far away, always behind you, never slipping into your line of sight. He had to convince himself that you were not looking for him, that you were on your own mission in life, one that does not revolve around him. He detests the idea of you being loyal to another cause, one that does not belong to him.

You are to be his wife, are you not? You will be the woman he shares the throne with, the woman who will bear his children and provide heirs for his future and legacy. He should be allowed to claim you as his own. As his one and only.

You were now away from your kingdom, a day’s ride to be exact, and soon the two of you will be on a boat heading across the Mediterranean Sea back to his kingdom of Philos. He knows that in time, you will grow to love Philos as much as he does. All he can sit and wish is that the two of you fall into something like love, a way for you to live in harmony for the rest of your lives.

Will it be love? Or will it simply be a partnership that you two barely tolerate?

He knows, though, that you will not be won in war. Your game of cat and mouse, the constant push and pull, the game that has brought him so much more excitement than he could have ever imagined. It is the reason why he is drawn to you. It is the reason why Xavier hasn’t been able to keep you away from him while on your journey to the port of Tartus.

He watches you from afar. Just like how he keeps his distance from you, you keep your distance from the other men at camp, the disgusting soldiers who laugh and tell the tales from their skirmishes and battles in Nabira. He sees the look of disgust on your face. Your expression slightly twists into something fatal, devastating, mourning the loss of the soldiers from your kingdom. You even wince at a few of their motions, the way they describe slicing the necks of the men that they have encountered in the battlefield.

Whenever you pass by, too, the soldiers either remain silent and bow their heads with respect, or they throw taunts your way, calling you pet names as if you now belong to them.

But you belong to him. Xavier knows it…even you know it.

Xavier remains by your tent throughout the night. He had his squire bring him one of the wooden chairs from his father’s tent and he placed it beside the entrance to your tent. Men walked by, their drunken laughs being silenced from Xavier’s scowl. The tip of his blade remained beneath the earth, his hand remaining on the hilt. Soldiers partied in the distance while Xavier listened to the rustling of the thin blanket he provided for you — the one he brought from his bed chambers in Philos — and waited for the night to come to an end.

The bright blue moon was his only light in the night as the majority of torches were snuffed out. He looks up at the Heavenly body, focusing on the imperfections that shine brightly on its surface. Xavier wonders if you like the moon as much as he does. He loves watching the Heavenly bodies in the night sky, looking upon them as they twinkle from the depths of the darkness.

The prince wonders what lies beyond the sky. Are there other worlds like his own? Are the men on that distant and far planet forced into unnecessary wars that their fathers wish to wage? Do the men there get to freely choose their wives or are they forced to marry vipers in disguise from a kingdom across the known world?

A sigh leaves his lips. Xavier looks away from the sky and shakes his head, turning his attention towards the ground. There are shadows from the scattered patches as grass of the campsite. There is a mixture of sand and dirt and grass, the combination of two different kinds of ecosystems merging together.

A sense of longing and worry overwhelms his mind. Xavier closes his eyes and rolls his head back, cracking his tensed up joints and bones as a quiet groan escapes his lips. He knows that his journey and time in Nabira is coming to a close. He will finally be back in Philos, a place he knows like the back of his hand. He has dreamed of his kingdom almost every single night since he has reached the desert, sailing away from the green scenery into the abyss of the desert.

Back in Philos, Xavier remembers the endless rolling hills of green grass, the steady streams and rivers that run through his kingdom. He remembers each and every crevice and rock of the mountainside where the Philos castle sits. He remembers the dark gray stone bride that attaches the base of the mountain to the rest of the village. Xavier misses the sound of the roaring river that runs beneath the bridge, the perpetually cold water spraying over the edges when the winds are strong.

Nabira is a completely different environment than what he is used to. Getting used to the desert was harder than he imagined, his right hand man back in Philos, Jeremiah, telling him what he should prepare for. He thought that the hot temperature was comparable to the hottest summer day in Philos but after experiencing the coolest day in Nabira, he knows that he is not meant for this type of climate. He supposes that he misses the green scenery. He is tired of the constant tans and browns, the only green coming from fabrics and the scattered patches of shrubbery that lay somewhat near oases.

He thought that he would find his inevitable demise in Nabira because who can truly survive a war as destructive and brutal as his father’s campaign for Nabira. Who can survive in the endless stretches of desert with little to no water to live off of, his body aching and his skin turning rough and red under the blazing sun. Even the metal of his armor has made him feel so suffocated while traveling through the sand dunes. Perhaps his inevitable demise did not come in the form of death but rather in the form of a beautiful woman behind a black and gold veil, the woman who has infiltrated his every waking and unconscious thought ever since he met her.

You…you have proven to be an intoxicating potion that has been slipped into his drink, a spell that is your name that has taken control over his mind.

Xavier opens his eyes to the sun already above the horizon. His light blue blanket is draped over his body, the hand on his sword covered. A quiet groan vibrates his throat. He slowly sits up, back tense. Xavier’s blue eyes scan the immediate area, the morning sun warm against his skin. You slowly approach from afar, a silver cup in hand along with a plate with bread, nuts, and dried meat. Xavier hides the small smile that begins to form on his face, covering it up by clearing his throat and sitting up in his chair.

“I can ride the horse for us today,” you say to him, skipping the greeting. It amuses Xavier. “Here,” you mutter under your breath, “eat. Drink. Your father wishes for us to embark from this place as soon as possible. He thinks we can reach Tartus by sunset if we move fast enough.”

Xavier takes the plate and chalice from you, your fingers grazing against each other. You ignore the way the corner of his lips perk up, the way his cloth shirt exposes the top part of his chest. You clear your throat and tear your gaze away, looking at the soldiers who tear down the campsite. They scurry around as their king watches. The silver crown on his head reflects sharp flashes of light whenever he turns, the man’s squire and his noble attendant by his side as he quietly speaks his demands.

“When did you wake, princess?” Xavier asks.

You struggle to respond. Your gaze meets his and all of the words slip out of your mind. You have memorized and learned Xavier’s mother tongue when the Philos troops were first seen on the outskirts of Nabira’s borders. Countless books and endless nights studying their words, the way they speak. The teachers in Nabira helped you become fluent but sometimes the words slipped free from your mind, leaving you with a mouth and brain filled with an empty void.

Xavier tilts his head at you, perking up an eyebrow. He slowly chews the hardened bread, narrowing his blue eyes at you. He slowly stands. The light blue blanket slips off of his body, hanging over the top of his sword. Xavier places the chalice and plate down, turning his attention back to you.

“Take your time,” he whispers, “or, you can say it in thy own tongue.”

“I woke at dawn. The dogs’ barks woke me,” you speak with no hesitation.

Xavier picks up on your words. His year in Nabria allowed him to learn some of your language, not all of it because he has always been stubborn and, quite frankly, did not think that he would get a Nabiran wife out of the crusade. He watches you closely as you gesture to the pack of nearby dogs, their snouts red from blood from that morning’s hunt.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you continue, finally turning back to wake him. Xavier’s. Your expression softens at the sight of his tousled hair, the way the silver strands poke out in every direction. You wave him down, which he immediately obeys, and you gently flatten the hair back against his head. “You looked so peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” Xavier quietly repeats the word in your tongue. You freeze and pull away from him, eyes slightly widened. Does he know your language? Has he learned during his time in Nabira just like you have with his? “What does that mean?”

“Peaceful,” you state after a moment’s hesitation, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Peaceful…” he whispers with a slight nod. “I will ride for us today. Be ready soon. A solider will handle your tent for you.”

“Xavier,” you watch as he drapes the light blue blanket around your shoulders. With one hand, he picks up the plate and chalice, balancing the silver cup on the plate, his sword now resting in his free hand. He steps around you. You watch him as he leaves, disappearing into the chaos of the Philos camp.

You sigh. You hang your head low as you stare at the ground. The leather bag your father gave you sits beside his wooden chair. The chair looks so uncomfortable…why would he spend the night like that? Did he truly wish for you to see this act of service as one that shows you can trust him? Or is it a false sense of security that he will use against you in the near future?

Confusion infiltrates your mind. You allow yourself to gather your belongings, plucking the golden bow from the inside of your tent. It sits around your bodice, the golden point sticking up into the sky, the quiver of arrows attached around your hips. The black crow feathers absorb the heat of the day. You feel them between the pads of your fingers, fiddling with them. They help keep you company as you walk through the camp, looking around for the man you are forced to be allies with.

Whether you like it or not, you know that Prince Xavier is your only saving grace on the journey to Philos. Even then, once you reach his kingdom, he is still your only ally in the political world that is much different from Nabira.

You cannot help but question if Xavier will be there by your side like he vowed to do. You do not know if he will remain loyal to you and the aid you require. Your mind wanders across the many possibilities that you will encounter in the new world.

Does Xavier have a mistress? Is there another woman in his life that you will have to learn to tolerate during your political and arranged marriage? You do not know what waits for you in the near future. It feels as if you are willingly walking into a lion’s den.

You can try your best to hide behind the furs they will gift to you. You can try to hide behind the crown of thorns that they will place onto your head. At the end of the day, though, it is you and you alone that is in charge of your life. You will have to fight for your spot in the Philos court, to fight to show the nobles that you earned your position as the future Queen of their kingdom. They will try to bring you down but you must persevere. 

“Princess,” Xavier’s voice sounds from behind. You do not turn, simply continuing to stare at the ancient ruins from your ancestor’s empire.

After it fell hundreds of years ago, the Roman Empire lost its influence. Their colonies and cities fought back against Roman control all while the title of emperor was being fought about in the heart of Rome. You read about it in the books your father gifted to you as a child. Your brother did not particularly enjoy reading about the fall of an empire, but you enjoyed seeing how Emperor Caleb’s laws and provisions remained in place when it came to Nabira. He ruled far before the empire fell. His descendants, your ancestors, kept his vow alive. It is admirable, really.

There are broken statues and pillars in the distance. Another outpost that was once under Roman control. Now Mother Nature runs it with vines reclaiming the white and cracked stone. Xavier’s armor and chainmail sounds from behind you. His white horse whinnies. The scraping of metal rubbing against itself used to irk you, send chills down your spine, but now it is a welcoming sound of the man you will call your husband.

“Is thou ready?” he asks.

“How long do you think that has been there for?” you ask and gesture to the crumbling pillars. Xavier takes his place at your side, his eyes fixed on the landmark. His horse remains tethered to its reins. 

“I do not know,” he quietly responds. “Centuries, probably.”

“Centuries,” you muse with a chuckle. Xavier looks down at you, confusion written across his face. “Is there a centuries old outpost in Philos?”

Xavier remains quiet. He studies the side of your face, taking in the slenderness of your cheeks, the hollowness behind your eyes. You’re tired, yes, and he can tell that you have not been able to stop thinking since you woke up that morning. He clears his throat and tugs on the leather reins.

The white horse trots around and settles in the space in front of you. Your eyes flicker to Xavier and he avoids your gaze, simply sliding the reins into your hands. He grabs your waist and you place your foot into the stirrup. In one motion, Xavier helps you onto the horse, your leg kicking over the horse. You remove your foot and scoot forward. Xavier takes your bag and attaches it to the side of the horse, placing it beside his. You quickly reach inside and pluck out the diary your father gifted you, placing it in the small space in front of you and the pommel of the saddle.

Xavier quickly mounts the horse and takes his place behind you, his armored hands rest on your thighs for the briefest of moments. You lean back into him, already accustomed to his presence behind you. He leans in, his lips close to your ear. His breath is hot against your skin. It sends chills down your spine.

“You’ve been thinking,” he murmurs. He takes back the reins from you and gently kicks the horse’s side. It lets out a huff and turns on its hooves, moving back towards the camp. “Thinking of the past and history…tell me what is on your mind, princess.”

You look straight ahead. The camp has been broken down while you were lost in your thoughts. The soldiers have resume their marching positions, already beginning the journey to the Tartus port. You assume that Xavier’s father is at the helm, guiding his men through the last of the desert. The two of you assume a position towards the back, the soldiers and guards a part of Xavier’s future Kingsguard taking their place behind you.

“Shall I take your silence as your answer?” he quietly hums.

You roll your eyes and angle your face to look behind you. His eyes meet yours, a hint of amusement in his blue irises. It irritates you to see just how much fun he is having with this. All of the positive feelings you felt towards him begin to slowly dissipate, his sudden cockiness grating your nerves.

“I think of the future,” you finally respond, turning your head back towards the front. Your drop your gaze to the diary in your hands, the horse’s trot just stable enough for you to read.

“I thought you were lost in the past,” Xavier chuckles. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensing. “Now thy worries over the future?”

“Yes, your Highness, ’tis what I said,” your voice is sharp.

You open the diary with a huff, frowning at the tan pages. You flip through the entires, knowing that your ancestor’s words are completely foreign to the man who sits behind you. You stop at one entry whose words catch your attention. You see the old Emperor’s name, Caleb, and stop flicking through the pages.

“Do you wish to be alone?” Xavier quietly asks. He slightly leans forward and stares at the pages. The script is a mystery to him. He may be able to comprehend a few spoken words, but to read it? It is an entirely different story. Your silence is answer enough for him to nod to himself, tearing his gaze away from the diary and to focus on the environment around you.

You silently struggle with your feelings for the crown prince. He has been nothing but kind to you — besides your confrontation when your fathers’ decided on a marriage between the two of you — and he has been patient with your blunt questions. He even sat in front of your tent to make for sure that you were safe. His kind gestures make your heart flutter but your mind combats every single instinct that kicks in.

You do not know if you can trust him. You do not know if he is someone worth your love and attention or if he will have it in himself to return the positive afflictions. Will it even be possible for your heart to come to love a man like him? You know that you can tolerate him, that you will find a rhythm that the two of you can fall into if love does not blossom or come into fruition. There is just that hint of hesitation, though, the single insecure thought that lingers in your mind.

You are a woman. He is a man. He is able to get away with so much more than you ever will. He will be allowed to keep mistresses if he so desires and you will remain alone in your separate bedchambers with nothing but a book and the candlelight to keep you company. He is allowed to lose control, to show his anger while you must remain quiet and obedient, subservient to him and him alone.

Unfortunately, you live in a world dominated by men. For your entire life, you were surrounded by powerful men — even your brother as a boy employed more power than you — who could control the outcome of the Nubian kingdom with a snap of their fingers. Oftentimes, your father’s male advisors would shut you out of political meetings. Whenever the Lemurians, or other diplomatic kingdoms, came to visit, you were told to entertain the women and girls who were brought along while the men drank wine from behind closed doors.

Always forced to watch, never allowed to participate.

The day has been long and hard. You sat in silence, only speaking in short whenever Xavier asks you a question or if you need anything. The sun begins to make its descent back towards the horizon and you can’t help but feel relieved. With the sight of trees and greenery now coming into view, you know that the port of Tartus is near. The sand dunes have turned into grasslands, the yellow and green grass replacing the golds and browns of the sand.

“Princess,” Xavier’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. You hum in response, eyes remaining closed as the horse continues on its way. “Why did thou remain silent before?”

“My mother taught me that if one does not have a kind thing to say, to not say it at all,” you play coy and dance around the meaning of your silence.

Xavier simply chuckles in response, shaking his head. He enjoys this game with you, whether you are aware of it or not. He rests his hand on his thigh, looking away and at the setting sun.

The Philos army travels across the bluffs of the new village. It is governed by Nabira but most of its soldiers come from Lemuria, an old alliance that formed between the kingdoms centuries ago. Two halves that operate in peace and harmony. Xavier looks away, thinking that it will take about an hour to reach the port. He feels your body relax against him once he notices you finally catch wind of the sight.

“Is there someone thou wishes to see there?” there is slight hint of jealousy to his voice and in the way his body slightly tenses up.

Xavier knows that you were originally betrothed to the Lemurian prince, a man by the name of Rafayel. He has only met the prince a handful of times and their interactions were short and brief. He has the most unusual appearance, his hair a vibrant purple color and his irises holding more than one color. Rafayel is extremely extroverted, the complete opposite of the prince himself. Xavier prefers to engage with parties from the outside whereas Rafayel loves to be in the middle of it all.

He does not wish to speak ill of your previous betrothed, simply following your mother’s advice that you bestowed upon him.

“And if there is?” a small smirk flashes across your face.

You hide it as you turn to face him, his hand finding itself on your side as you lean into it, getting the best look possible. His brows are slightly knitted, his jaw clenched. His eyes have lost all of their wonder and dare you say it — sparkle — that he once held towards you. There is a darkness behind his eyes and yet all you can feel amusement towards his sudden possessiveness towards you because, well…what else could it be?

“Will thou play the role of my knight in shining armor?” you lower your voice.

Xavier’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His grip on the leather reins tightens. His heart pounds on the inside of his chest. He unconsciously moves towards you, leaning in as his breathing grows heavier.

You truly are a viper, aren’t you?

You let out a quiet sigh. Leaning forward, you pluck the veil from your bag, placing it over your head and the diary. Xavier may not be able to understand the written form of your language, but you wish to have some kind of privacy from the outside world as you travel the last length of distance. The diary opens up with a soft crinkle sound, your finger acting as a bookmark. Sunlight breaks through the sheer veil but protects your eyes from the star, the veil providing slight shade for you.

In the quiet of my chambers, the oil lamps flicker low… The weight of my crown feels most distant. I confess to these pages that I dare not speak aloud.

Caleb. My emperor.

Your ancestor’s silent plight calls to you. You see her words, feeling as they resonate throughout your body. The ink looks shaky as if her hands were trembling as she wrote these words. She has gone through the same conflict you feel inside of your heart and mind. Forced to be wed to a stranger, a man who holds power.

Yours is a mere prince, the weight of a newer yet large kingdom resting on your shoulders. Your ancestor, though? She married an emperor who ruled an empire that stretched from one side of the world to the other.

And yet your internal struggles remain as one, the same trouble of having to share the sheets with a man who is so foreign to you. Does she share the same worries of a mistress? Does she also feel the inexplicable urge to cross the distance, no matter how big or small it may be, and to unite with him as one?

Betrayal coated over a toad. But for some reason I find myself wanting to kiss him.

He stands atop marble steps now gilded in cracks and anger. But I can't help my feelings for him. Even when duty made a stranger of him.

Yet in the stillness that followed…Gideon emerged.

A quiet laugh leaves your lips before you can stop it. You continue to read through the passage, unable to contain the small gasps that leave your body from the revelations that she has confessed to the pages of the diary. The heat from the irony of the situation making the sun even more unbearable. You feel the warmth of Xavier’s armor push into your back. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he reaches to the side of you, picking up the corner of the veil before slowly lifting it up.

“Yes, Xavier?” you ask with a quiet voice, closing the diary. “Is there something thou wishes to say?”

“What…amuses you?” Xavier asks in a quiet voice. “Thine’s smile disappeared when she saw me…how may I see it again?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Your gaze flickers to the sliver between his head and the fabric, the blue sky growing darker. Xavier simply leans to the side and effortlessly catches your gaze once again.

“Answer me,” his command is harsh while his tone reeks of slight desperation.

Perhaps you made your judgment on him too quick. Maybe Xavier truly does wish to make an effort to be your husband. Your future with him will now be one that is easy and complimentary, yes? You will both make an effort for things to be good. Maybe love will come out of it in due time.

“Are you asking me that as the future king or as Xavier?” you quietly ask. Xavier’s face flinches. Your eyes drop to his lips before moving back to his eyes.

He does not reply. You slightly tilt your head to the side, the sunset flashing into your eyes, illuminating your irises. Xavier’s breath hitches and he suddenly believes in his country’s religion again. He blinks at you, too flustered to focus. 

Suddenly, the sound of men’s snickering and cheers captures your attention. You draw away from Xavier, your posture straightening. You turn to the front, staring through the veil, noticing that the soldiers stare at the two of you. Embarrassment floods your body, your cheeks heating up. Xavier slips out of the veil, his sharp glare silencing the soldiers.

“Turn around,” Xavier commands them with such ease it sends chills down your spine.

He slows your horse, the soldiers passing by on their own animals or jogging around you. Xavier watches them as they go, your horse coming to a full stop. His hands slip under the fabric that pools at your hips, his gloved hand resting on your stomach, pulling you closer to him. You cannot move. You’re frozen as time and the soldiers pass you by, only able to fully breathe again once the sound of their horse’s and footsteps fade into nothing.

Xavier removes the veil from your body, holding it away from you as you try to snatch it back from him. The horse whinnies. You glare at him, turning back around to the front, watching as the soldiers march into the distance. Xavier’s grip on you tightens. The raised metal of his coat of arms pokes into your skin, leaving you breathless. He leans down, the tip of his nose grazing against the shell of your ear with closed eyes.

“Do you wish me to be?” Xavier whispers into your ear.

“Wish thou to be what?”

“To be yours, your knight in shining armor,” Xavier is breathless, his cheeks bright in color. You close your eyes, unable to think of an immediate response.

Is it not early to show such affections? Is Xavier showing his cards too easy? It feels like a trap. A sudden sweetness to win your favor before his alliance with Nabira can be severed when your Lemurian friend comes into the portrait. There is no way that he could possibly feel jealousy towards an old suitor. You were never going to leave Xavier even if you tried. You need Philos’ alliance for your father’s sake. You are unequivocally his despite your distaste towards the matter.

“Do what you want,” you breathe out, “it is no matter to me.”

“Truly you do not mean that,” he quickly follows up.

“Unburden yourself, Xavier,” his breath hitches at the sound of his name, “and take us to the port.”

Xavier follows your command. He kicks the horse into motion, tightly holding the reins to keep the horse in check. The horse shifts into a gallop, crossing the distance with ease and flipping up through the pack. The people part for his highness and you remain resigned in front of him, focusing your eyes on the port that lies ahead.

You wish that your childhood friend, a boy you haven’t seen in little over three years since the crusades were first brought to Nabira’s attention, is there to see you to your new home. Rafayel was the one who sailed the seas and rode on a horse with his father as soon as they saw Philos’ army. They did not hesitate to offer help, help which your father declined, and you had to say goodbye to the man you originally were ready to marry.

It will be nice to see him. You can silently plead for aid and protection with the Lemurian ladies in the Philos court — if they have any, that is. He is sure to help you. Maybe he will find himself at your wedding to the infamous Lumière, a man who was sure to have killed both Nabirans and Lemurians in battle. Xavier was a common enemy before he turned into your betrothed. Does that change things with your Lemurian prince now?

 After an hour, the Philos army reaches the lively port. The army stays on the outskirts of the port city while you, Xavier, the King, and a smaller portion of the army make your way through the decorated scene. You know that today is a Lemurian holiday, one where they take the night off and dance the night away. They are very free spirited people with art, music, and their navy being their priorities and greatest achievements. Even Rafayel is known to have a few masterpieces under his belt at his young age.

The smile returns to your face. Many of the Lemurian and Nabiran citizens bow their heads at you, stopping in their tracks to show their reverence for their domina. It was sure to be known by now that you are leaving for the rest of your life, that you will never return. Tonight will be as much about your release from the kingdom as much as it is their holiday.

Xavier keeps his eyes on you, watching as you gaze upon the Lemurian rich city with such wonder and awe. It is different from Philos’ much more mild mannered festivities. The city, even when it is an ocean away from their kingdom, is much more vibrant and colorful compared to Philos’ whites and grays color scheme. Much more lighter and monotone from the Lemurian’s bright blues and pinks and purples.

He knows that you will have much fun tonight. There is no reason for you to listen to him or keep you away from that friend of yours. He may accompany you, though, even if you disagree to it. He wants to see what his future bride likes to take part in. It is what every good husband should know, no? He should make for sure that man does not taint your honor or bring any stigmas onto yourself for the Philos court to hear about before your arrival.

It is the least he can do as your future husband.

The horses arrive at the Lemurian’s biggest ship, the Abysswalker, a ship that Rafayel is known to command, just as the sailors disembark from the wooden ship. As soon as Xavier’s horse comes to a slow, you swing your leg over the horse’s head and slide off of the animal, your feet colliding with the earth made dock that the Aysswalker is connected to.

“The domina has arrived,” Rafayel calls to his men as he walks down the wooden plank over the small gap between the ship and the dock, “make sure to behave.” A smile spreads across his face. Your eyes flicker to his hair, which is longer than you remember it being, the purple strands stopping right when they meet his shoulders.

“Is that a command for me or your men?” you smile at him, resting your hands on your hips just as he steps foot back onto land. He stops right in front of you and leans down, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’d like to think it was one for you,” Rafayel’s smile is as bright as the rest of his face. He mimics your hands on the hips and rests back on one foot. “Did you get shorter?”

“One would think you are insufferable,” you retort back.

“Welcome to Tartus, my lady,” Rafayel takes a step forward, delicately taking your hand. He brings your knuckles to his mouth, his eyes meeting yours, and presses a sweet kiss to your hand like the true gentleman he is. You crack a smile at him, feeling even safer with him than you do with Xavier. Rafayel’s eyes flicker to Xavier, who has gotten off the horse and made himself at home in the space behind you. “Prince Xavier, we have been expecting thy’s arrival.”

“Is that so?” Xavier rests his hand on the hilt of his sword. You purse your lips in annoyance. “Will you be the one who escorts my queen and I to Philos?”

“Yes,” Rafayel’s posture stiffens at the mention of you being his so called queen. His eyes move to you, catching the annoyance that moves across your face. “My apologies if our banter has crossed a line with your…king.”

“I am not his queen yet,” you muse, feeling the tension begin to form between the three of you. You are simply weighing all of your options. You do not wish to marry a man who may be planning your death, making it look like the journey to Philos destroyed you. At least you know you are safe with the Lemurians around.

“Ah,” Rafayel nods his head, turning his attention back to Xavier, “allow me to show you to your quarters. Thou must have had a long day. Rest will do you well before we set sail.”

Xavier nods and steps around you, following the men that immediately move from behind Rafayel. The Philos soldiers set off, except for his father’s Kingsguard, for their own camp since they will be traveling back to Philos by foot. About three years journey across the land if Xavier’s father decides to not send any ships to pick them up and ease the distance. He hesitates when he notices that you and Rafayel do not move a muscle, your eyes never leaving each other’s.

“It’s been a long time,” you whisper to him over the sound of squawking birds, “you’ve grown into the role of Captain.”

“Admiral, actually,” Rafayel’s smile grows more smug by the second. You nod your head at him, keeping it coy and detached. “Do you wish to celebrate tonight, my lady? I remember you telling me that you would love to celebrate the holiday.”

“I would love to if you are the one who keeps me company,” perhaps you are a little too polite in your response. It is all in good faith and all at the expense of your soon to be husband. You like the way his face darkens when another man offers you his gaze, the way he grows jealous at even the slightest thought of you plotting against him or simply when you entertain someone who isn’t him.

“I shall join too, then,” Xavier steps back. His eyes move to yours then your lips. “I shall accompany you.”

“Three is considered to be a crowd,” Rafayel tries to interject.

“Who is to say that he may last through the night?” you challenge. Xavier’s nostrils flare. “My prince, perchance you have spare clothes for me to wear.”

“It can be arranged, princess,” your head snaps in his direction at the title. Rafayel smirks and steps away, walking towards the nearby building by the dock.

You let out an amused huff of air. Xavier steps in front of you. He tightly grips his sword, looking down at you with intense eyes. You attempt to step around him but Xavier blocks the path, his armored hand digging into your flesh. You let out a quiet gasp, feeling a stinging sensation as he yanks you towards him.

“Am I to be worried, princess?” Xavier asks, his voice low and dangerous.

“We speak of clothes,” you say.

“Do you think me a fool?” Xavier counters. You catch the sharpness in his tone. 

“You know I am to be yours,” you match his tone, “he means no harm.”

“He is mad.”

“Just as you are?” you lift your connected hands to his eye line.

Xavier immediately releases his grip. He takes a step back, the scrapes of his armor quiet, and diverts his gaze. You purse your lips and walk around him, following in the direction that Rafayel walked in.

The purple haired prince approaches a tall sandstone building. It is much taller than the rest of the seaside village, a landmark for those watching from afar but also a place for nobles and diplomats to stay. You have never been here but your brother has and he told you all about how lively the village is, the way the candles are never snuffed out, acting like golden stars in the night sky.

You pick up the extra fabric that pools near your feet as you walk. You slice through the crowd, the people dispersing as soon as they notice you, and watch as Rafayel waves his hands at the guards by the door. The wooden doors creak to life as you reach the top of the stairs. The prince offers you his arm and you immediately take it.

Xavier scoffs from behind, glaring at the sight of your connected bodies. A scowl overtakes his face as he steps through the doors, entering inside of the brightly lit noble-run home. Servants scurry past, holding sheets and plates of food, bowing their heads at Xavier as they pass. He approaches his father’s side, his eyes never leaving you and Rafayel as you laugh about some comment he makes. Xavier does not see the humor you do in the prince. Do you not know that he is known to be a rake? Xavier and his hand, Jeremiah, have watched as Rafayel passed himself around the ballroom, never taking the time to act like a proper human being.

“Do you know of the festivities, father?” Xavier has to pull his gaze away from you and Rafayel, turning to look at the king that stands beside him. “Will they be…worthwhile?”

“You should partake,” the king responds. He barely even looks at Xavier as he speaks with one of the captains in his army, “unwind. Get to know your wife. Be a prince.”

“Be a prince?” Xavier repeats the words with a slight scoff. “Am I not the man you molded me to be?”

“Tonight,” Xavier’s father sighs and dismisses his man. From over his son’s shoulder, he watches as you and Rafayel disappear up the stairs with a governess close behind, a role that you will soon grow used to once you reach Philos. “Drop thy sword and shed yourself of thine armor. Indulge yourself. Be ready to leave it behind as soon as the sun rises.”

“Yes, sir,” Xavier mutters to himself.

He bows his head to his father and turns away, one of the servants beckoning for him to follow to his temporary bed chambers. The prince allows himself to relax on the journey up through stairs, the metal armor on his body finally beginning to weigh him down. He reaches the top of the stairs. The sound of your laughter stops him in his path. He abandons the servant and walks down the hallway, the clicks of his metal boots echoing down the corridor.

You sit in a room with Rafayel, along with a handful of other nobles who reside in the seaside village, and hold a glass of wine in your hand, swirling around the dark liquid before bringing it up to your lips. The language has changed from the one from Philos to a picture between Nabiran and Lemurian. Neither you nor Rafayel could stick with just one. You watch Rafayel from over the rim of the gold chalice, his drunken friends lounged on the couch as they twiddle with the strings of a lute, the dull notes filling the calmed atmosphere.

“Tell me, domina,” Rafayel begins. He takes a sip from his chalice before lowering it to the table, crossing the distance, and placing himself in the open space beside you, “what do you think of life outside of Nabira’s castle walls?”

“Tis different,” you cooly respond. You place your goblet beside his. “I never thought I would have left so soon.”

“Right,” Rafayel leans down, his eyes fixated on yours, “one did not think your father would ever let you leave the palace. He barely let anyone in for that matter.”

“And yet here I am,” you muse, slightly narrowing your eyes at the purple haired man, “outside of the walls, about to set sail on your ship towards my new fate.”

“I knew I would have the honor of sailing with you,” the prince begins. He slowly leans in some more, your noses a dangerous distance from one another. He tilts his head to the side, taking in the floral scent of your perfume, the way you hold yourself strong against his sudden closeness. Rafayel lowers his voice, his eyes slightly darkening. “I always thought the destination would be Lemuria rather than...Philos.”

You hesitate to respond. You watch Rafayel carefully, observing the way his eyes are all over your face, taking you in from a short distance. He smells like the sea, the hint of salty water and his sweat, his musk, mixes in with the scent. His eyes are vibrant and yet you can see the overprotective nature of your friend begin to seep out.

When Rafayel and his aunt, the Princess Talia, visited Nabira when he was just a boy, he would refuse to let you leave his sight. The two of you would always sit next to each other during meals and he would make you show him all of your favorite places in the Nabiran palace. You showed him the statues of your ancestors, the painted images that you quietly prayed to. He watched as you shot your arrows and in turn you watched him as he fought your brother with wooden swords — although you remember him favoring a trident instead.

“Are you disappointed in the outcome, my prince?” you quietly ask.

“Do not call me that,” Rafayel whispers. “I know the game thou dost engage in.”

“Call thou what?” you play the role of an innocent damsel much to his dismay.

“My prince.”

“Why not?” you tilt your head to the side, eyes never leaving his. It feels as if you can barely breathe with him so close to you, the tension bubbling in the air. “It is thy’s title, is it not?”

“Yes but,” Rafayel sucks in a breath, his voice neither rising nor falling, “I am no longer yours.”

“Thou art my friend,” you whisper, “art thou not?”

“I should be glad that you are his vixen to deal with,” Rafayel pulls away. With the distance, you are able to breathe again. “You are his princess—”

“Domina,” you sharply correct him, your gaze narrowing, “I am not married to him yet.”

“You aren’t,” Rafayel shifts his weight to his back foot, watching you closely, “but thou will be soon enough.”

Your body runs cold. There is truth to his words, you know it to be true. Denial runs through your thoughts. You have accepted your fate and yet here you are, spiraling over someone else pointing out the less than ideal circumstances you find yourself in.

A small smile breaks Rafayel’s serious demeanor. He reaches for your chalice, taking it from its place, and brings it to his lips, sipping the dark red wine that sits inside the cup. You tear your gaze away from him, clearing your throat, and notice a silver figure move into the darkness of the hallway, the wooden door closing shut.

“That prince of yours is trouble,” the Lemurian says from behind you. You do not turn to look at him, simply wishing that you will see Xavier soon. “I do not trust him.”

“Is that so?” you hum, finally turning to look at Rafayel. He simply nods in response.

You look back to the door, pushing off of the table you stand beside, and walk towards it, pushing the wooden panel open. You take a step out. The corridor is much more dark than the inside of the parlor room. Lit candles hang from chandeliers, the wax spilling over the dark metal. The light is warm, a deep orange to cut through the darkness of the night, and you look at Rafayel from over your shoulder.

“Fetch me when you are ready to embark,” you offer him a small smile. Rafayel simply nods in response, turning away from you and to the nobles inside of the parlor.

You disappear down the corridor, following the sound of footsteps up the next flight of stairs. The figure escapes you as soon as you reach the top and you let out an annoyed huff of air. You take a glance around and let out a quiet sigh, walking down the stone hallway. The sounds of your sandals swiping against the floor fills in the silent hallway. You can hear the faint crashing of distant waves, the ocean restless as ever, while you navigate your way towards your bedchambers. As soon as the door comes into sight, you disappear behind it.

Your leather bag and bow sit on your bed, a welcome sight for sore eyes. You approach the bed and sit on the edge, a small frown forming on your face. Rafayel’s words of warning sit with you. They leave you no comfort nor do they make you feel secure in your silent alliance with him. Xavier has given you no signal that he wishes to betray you — quite the opposite, actually, with his sudden posessiveness over you — nor has there been any signs from his father that he wishes to make you a martyr to the people of Nabira.

The sudden competition between Xavier and Rafayel is nothing you could have ever expected for yourself. You always thought that the other men in your life would respect the choices made for you. You are forced to remain passive when it comes to your marital status while the men around you are actively dictating who you will fall asleep beside for the rest of your days. This is, unless your husband were to die. Then you would be forced off to wed yet another man in power whose only mission in life is to secure his throne and provide his kingdom with an heir.

The leather bound diary stares at you. It sits beside the leather bag, its gold accents and jewels beckoning you towards it. You reach out and grasp the small book, bringing it towards your chest. Perhaps your ancestor’s words will bring you some semblance of peace. The pages welcome you as soon as you open the diary, her handwriting already calming down your rapidly beating heart.

Caleb was the sun. Gideon is the moon.

How could she have had the same predicament as you? Feeling affection towards two men. Your familiarity with Rafayel, the bright spirited man whom you have held affection towards for so long.

Then there is Xavier. A man whom you have been forced to share horseback with, forever tied to his reins, unable to make an escape from his intense eyes and wandering hands. In the time you have spent together, little has been said. You originally thought that silence was the best way to show your rebellion towards him and the arranged marriage.

You move to the next passage of the diary entry.

He speaks little, but in his silence, I find refuge. I see the burden he carries. The way his eyes linger too long when he thinks I do not notice. The protection he offers in more ways than one.

Could you too find refuge in his silence? You know he watches you every chance he gets. You are sure that he will never be too far from you if he is to attend the Lemurian festivities tonight. He is sure to drown in the crowd, to fade into the background while you take center stage with your would have been husband, the man you always imagined standing beside instead of the fair headed man your father sold you off to.

Will this be a test for him to show his worth to you? A way to win your heart over in the political game of intrigue that you have found yourself in? He has been in it for his entire life, surely he knows how to win the heart of his chosen princess…your heart.

I should be ashamed, but I am only tired. Tired of pretending the ache in my chest is loyalty alone… If the gods hear me, let them judge gently. My heart is torn between crown comfort and love. Let this ink keep my secret.

You never believed in the gods. Sure, your mother held an expectation of religion upon you, but you knew the truth. You knew that the gods abandoned the earth a long time ago, around the fall of Rome, when magic and Evols have left world. They took all of the splendor with them. The magic that you wished so desperately to see.

Tales told during the fall of Rome have left the world wondering what happened to people who held magic. Did they die with the Emperor and his bloodline? Were they hunted for sport and killed in gladiator battles like martyrs? Or has the magic the world once held in its people slowly vanish throughout the years?

Your mother always liked to joke that you hold the same power like your ancestor, arguably one of the greatest Emperors that Rome has had, but more in the way of him being able to connect and unite his empire together. You have always had the charm of an angel and people naturally gravitated towards you. According to your mother, you also hold a special connection to the past, something that nobody has ever seen before.

You like to call it empathy but your mother thinks your ancestors have chosen you to be their voice.

You close the diary and let out a slow exhale. The pads of your fingers run along the cover, feeling the warm metal against your touch. It grounds you as your mind wanders away from itself. You stand from the bed and take a quick peek into a nearby trunk, pulling out a blue silk dress, one made in a Lemurian fashion. You hold the dress in your hands. It feels devastatingly heavy despite the thinness to it. Your thoughts turn into the future, what it holds for you. You have accepted the fact that you are stuck between two men.

Both of whom wish to see you by their side, whether they have said it aloud or not is neither here nor there. Both men wish to see you thrive but to thrive under their control, a queen that will serve them the best for them and their reign. You do not know if you should feel flattered by this revelation or if you should pack your things, steal a horse, and run back to the safety of the Nabiran border.

A knock at the door. Your posture straightens. You wipe away a tear that you did not know even fell. The door pushes open and you narrow your eyes in the darkness, seeing a pale head of hair enter your chambers. You quickly stand, hands folded in front of your stomach. Xavier is quick to close the door, making sure that it does not make too much noise to alert any of the guards who stand down the hall. He wears a white cotton shirt, the small strings of fabric remaining untied, exposing the top part of his muscular build. The sleeves are slightly puffy. One glance down shows that he wears leather pants and matching boots. He is a prime example of what a peasant in Philos would look like. Well, that is what the books you have read told you. He turns around, his eyes finally landing on yours.

He is silent. He slowly takes in your appearance, his sword remaining attached to his side. His blue eyes drop from your face and to your body. Suddenly you feel small under his gaze. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat, hands growing clammy. You fidget with your fingers as Xavier takes slow and calculated steps towards you. The air thins with every step. You tilt your head to look up at him, the silk gentle against your skin, moving with your body. You take a step backwards. The back of your knees hit the bed frame, the slightly splintered wood pushing into your flesh.

“You look…beautiful,” Xavier breathes out.

His hand moves towards your face, gently cupping your cheek. You do not move. His touch sends chills down your spine and your mouth goes dry. Xavier’s eyes drop from your face, the tips of his fingers grazing against your skin. You suck in a sharp breath. The tips of his fingers move from your cheek to the exposed skin on your shoulder. There is a strip of blue and white silk with a layer of sheer and pearls covering it. It hangs from your shoulder, acting like a loose sleeve. Xavier’s calloused finger hooks around the sleeve, giving it a gentle tug.

“Thou is silent again,” Xavier quietly remarks. 

“I have nothing to say,” you murmur. His eyes flit to yours. Your heart skips a beat, cheeks slowly heating. He leans in, trapping you against the bed

“Is it polite to not give thanks?” Xavier matches your volume. You try to look away but he tilts his head to meet your eyes once again. “Answer me.”

“Pray tell, why dost thou concern himself?” you whisper. The candle flickers in the background. You try to use it to steady yourself but Xavier’s proximity makes you feel uneasy.

“Thou is my wife,” Xavier murmurs. He reaches up and pushes the dark hair out of your face, his eyes focusing on yours once again. “My bride’s concerns shall be mine.”

“I am not thy bride,” you breathe the words out and close your eyes just as he leans in.

Your foreheads meet and his hands find themselves on your waist. He pulls you close to him, your body flush against his. Your hands rest on his chest, pushing against his defined muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. He keeps you close, though, his breathing mixing in with yours, growing heavier by the second. His hand moves from your waist to the back of your head, his lips now hovering beside your ear.

“Why must you deny me the pleasure that is you?” Xavier sighs. “Must thou remain difficult?”

“I am not a heart to be won, just to be forgotten,” you respond. You unconsciously move your hands from his chest and place them around his neck, hooking around him. He pulls you closer. “I am not won through chivalrous gestures nor will I be swayed with grand romance.”

“Then tell me,” the prince pulls away. His hand slips from the back of your head and to your cheek. His touch is fire against your skin. It burns. Your stomach flips in on itself. You catch yourself before you can lean into it. “Tell me how I shall win thy heart.”

“Tis not my heart to be won,” you loosen your grip on him, “tis respect and honor. Duty.”

“Duty?” his face flickers with confusion. You slip away from him but the tips of his fingers graze along the bare skin of your arm. He captures your hand, not allowing you to escape him quite yet.

“Love will grace thine hearts in time. Tis a truth we must embrace. I seek a noble soul, a steadfast protector, who shall remain at my side, undaunted by the whispers and tales woven by thy’s court,” your whisper grows louder. Xavier loosens his grip on your hand, allowing it to fall back to your side. “Thus shall you win my favor and heart’s desire.”

The village streets are as lively as Rafayel described to you as a child. Tonight’s celebration is one from Lemurian tradition, a Festival of the Sea. It is a way for the Lemurians, who originated in coastal towns in the early days of the Roman Empire, to give back to the sea, to give the oceans their thanks and praises for providing them with the means necessary to survive. Lemruians are servants to the sea and they bow to no man.

You consider yourself lucky to have an alliance with them, especially with their prince. An alliance with a Lemurian is almost always a guaranteed victory, especially when the battles take place on the sea or in royal courts across the continent.

Your arm is wrapped with Rafayel’s, his long purple hair getting caught with the wind. The two of you laugh as you reach the center of the seaside village, smiles plastered on your faces as Xavier plays the role of chaperone, remaining just a few seconds behind.

The three of you are a couple drinks in. You have passed through the stalls passing out desserts from your home kingdom and Rafayel’s as well. At one point in time, you passed off your favorite treats for Xavier to try. He finished them all with no questions or refusals, the loose crumbs from the sweet bread seasoned with saffron remains along the outline of his lips. You fought the urge to reach out and wipe the specks away.

Temptation is a slippery slope, though.

The sun has finally lowered below the horizon. Candle light and torches illuminate the night as people pass by each other with practiced ease. You miss the mixture of blues and oranges but appreciate the sight of the stars in the sky, their light and twinkling appearance putting you at ease.

You turn and look at Xavier from over your shoulder. He trails behind you and Rafayel, having remained silent for the majority of the night. You had hoped that tonight would have brought him out of his shell but you learned to appreciate his respect and openness to new traditions and cultures that are laid before him.

Xavier watches as the mixture of Lemruains and Nabrians flows throughout the village. It is unusual for him to see. The only time that Xavier has such two kingdoms get along so well — tried to, at least — was at his cousin’s wedding. One of Philos’ daughters was wed off to a king to the northwest of them, located on a smaller island.

Xavier’s mind wanders to his cousin’s wedding. He wonders what it felt like to be married to a stranger. Did her husband feel as intoxicated with her like he feels with you? Did his cousin’s husband fall in love the moment she tried to put him in his place?

He remembers his cousin’s tears the morning of her wedding. She did not get in a choice in the matter, much like  you, but unlike your circumstance with Xavier, the first time she met her king was at the wedding altar. She did not have the liberty of meeting him beforehand, they did not receive the chance to get to know each other like Xavier has with you. It is not like you talked much, though. You have remained silent while you rode across the small stretch of desert.

“What does he think of?” you turn back around, looking towards the tile ground. Rafayel looks down at you, barely sparing the fair headed prince a glance before he stops walking, stopping you with him.

“Your Highness,” Rafayel waves his hand in front of Xavier’s face. He wears a smug smirk on his face, his arm still linked with yours. He stands slightly in front of you, his face not in your eye line. “Your domina asked a question of you.”

“You did?” Xavier turns his attention to you, his once hardened expression softening.

“Twas wondering what you think of,” you state, looking straight into his eyes. You can still feel the burning sensation of his skin against yours, the way the fire and spark lingers on your body, gifting you no release. The corners of Xavier’s lips perk up in a moment of happiness but it disappears as soon as he opens his mouth to speak.

“The future,” he responds, beginning to use your own words against you.

“The future?” you tilt your head to the side, feeling seen with the way he speaks.

“Tis what I stated.”

Rafayel’s eyes flicker between the two of you. The purple haired prince does not particularly enjoy the sudden familiarity between you and your prince. He slips your hand free from his arm, catching your attention, but he quickly laces your fingers with his. You look up at him just as the heart of the village, the city square whose floor is covered in beautiful and vibrant tiles that are laid in a design of a lotus flower, begins to play its next song.

“Dance with me, domina,” Rafayel requests of you. You begin to shake your head, not remembering the last time you have danced was, especially in the carefree and energetic Lemurian fashion.

“I do not know if it is a good idea!” you laugh. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Xavier slips free from your vision.

“As long as it is a choice we make,” Rafayel draws you close to him, your hands resting upon his chest, as your combined laughter floats into the air.

The city square is flooded with people. You and Rafayel take to the center of the dance floor, assuming your beginning position together, his hand massive in comparison to yours. There are a few other couples lined up around you, their smiles as big as yours. Xavier remains in the background. One of Rafayel’s soldiers places a chalice filled with wine into his hand. He immediately begins to drink as the music swells, the string instruments and makeshift drums filling the night air.

Rafayel remains in place as you circle around him once you listen for the note to move. Your body is loose as you step around the Lemurian. Your eyes meet his blue and pink ones, feeling as the man’s hands attach themselves to yours. You memorize the sharpness of the gold and red lines on his face, admiring the way they make him look more mature. He spins you around with ease. The crowd that surrounds the dance floor is a blur.

You do not catch the scowl on Xavier’s face as he passes off the chalice to the Lemurian soldier. The wine burns down his throat. His body tingles and feels so light yet so heavy at the same time. His blue eyes remain on you and you alone. The blue silk of your dress catches in the wind while Rafayel spins you around. He wishes it was him in the Lemruian’s place.

“Thou remembers the steps,” Rafayel speaks once he brings your body back to his. The two of you dance with ease, the steps to the routine coming back to you through muscle memory.

“Tis back like a faded memory!” your laugh is breathless, the wine from before finally taking an effect on your body. You close your eyes, your smile big across your face, Rafayel’s hands guiding you through the moves. His hands attach to your waist and he lifts you up in the air, your silk dress flowing in the wind, before your feet connect with the ground again. You look up at him from over your shoulder once the music comes to an end, slightly out of breath. “I need wine!”

“Aye!” Rafayel cheers from over the sound of applause. He claps his hands together before taking your hand into his, leading you away from the dance floor.

Xavier’s head perks up as soon as he catches a glimpse of your blue dress leaving the dance floor. He pushes through the crowd as people file onto the mosaic tiled floor. He bumps into a few peasants, offering a quiet apology as his vision blurs. He spots your skirt and follows it like it is his North Star. The prince does not lose sight of it, watching as you sit at a nearby table where Rafayel takes the spot by your side. The man stumbles up to the table and sits on the wooden bench, making for sure that he is in front of you.

“Xavier,” there is a hint of concern in your voice. You lean forward just as a woman places glasses of wine and mead onto the table. “Art thou—”

“The prince will be okay, my domina,” Rafayel interrupts. He reaches over you and places the glass of mead in front of Xavier, placing one of wine front of you. You turn and look at him, beginning to shake your head. “Aye, calm, domina. He can take care of himself.”

“Tis not why I worry,” you mutter under your breath.

You look at Xavier. His cheeks are light pink in color, his eyes disoriented as he looks directly at you. It sends chills down your spine. you look him up and down, noticing the beads of sweat that roll down his neck. The man is clearly not used to the heat, thankfully, he will be back in his kingdom and you with him. There is enough space for him on the bench beside you. You gesture to it and the man’s eyes grow wide. He stands and rounds the table, taking the place by your side.

“Necessary?” Rafayel asks in his mother tongue. The sound is sweet on your ears. You welcome it with open arms.

“His men are watching,” you return your words in his language while covering your action with an excuse, nodding your head to the Philos dressed soldiers who stand not too far away. “Does thou wish for my image to be tainted?”

“If it means I get to thou mine, it would have been worth it,” Rafayel’s voice is genuine.

You pause in your moment, feeling Xavier lean into your side. You meet Rafayel’s gaze but he is quick to look away. A frown forms across your face, your stomach erupting with butterflies. Rafayel finally turns to look back at you, his face void of his charade, one that he kept on to ensure that your prince felt safe in enemy territory.

“Might I take a quick leave? The night is not over and I wish to break bread with thou one last time before we sail the sea,” Rafayel stands from the bench and leaves before you can even respond.

You face forward, staring at the group of people who dance and sing in the Lemurian tongue. The chalice of wine in your hand grows lighter as you sip on the alcohol, your body slipping into a more relaxed state. Xavier groans from beside you, his blue eyes desperately wanting to meet yours but you are too to notice him. He sits up, holding all of his weight to himself now, and stares at the lively scene before him.

Philos is not like this. Their celebrations are much more tame in comparison to the Lemurians. They dance in organized rows and their desserts are are frivolous as their clothes. Many woman in Philos dress their best every single day. Their fashion is to catch the eyes of possible suitors — or perhaps the eye of a prince — and to show off their wealth. It is materialistic now that he thinks about it. Xavier never paid too much attention to it, his head always in a book or sparring with other soldiers at the base of the mountain. His time, much like yours, has been dedicated to the betterment of his kingdom, not to learn dances for celebrations or worry if he wears the most expensive fabrics.

Although, Xavier will spend the kingdom’s treasury if you asked him to. He will buy you all of the silks and jewels that you could ever ask for. He will hand you gold coins for exotic animals and perfumes if it meant he got to see the same smile you wore on your face while dancing.

“Princess,” Xavier slightly slurs the word, his rationality finally catching up to him.

“Prince,” you return his greeting, turning your head to look at the man.

“I wish to leave this place,” he informs you. You raise your eyebrows, slight dejection morphing across your face. “I wish to leave while thou wishes to remain. Pray tell, when I depart, dost thou intend to spend the eve with Prince Rafayel?”

“What hath befallen thee?” your voice is loud enough to listen to over the sound of the string and wind instruments. The banging of the drum is noticeably absent as a slower song plays. “Why worry oneself with trivial matters?”

“It matters,” Xavier reassures you. His eyes move away and he spots Rafayel approaching with a plate of desserts and Lemurian delicacies. He notices, though, that the plate lacks any food from Nabira. He scoffs and turns back to you. “I do not wish to see thee with a man of his stature.”

“He is an Admiral,” you comment, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips up.

“And I a prince. One who commands his own vassal!”

“You are both princes,” you correct him, “and yet you are the one who wishes to conquer.”

“I do not wish to conquer,” Xavier shakes his head, “I follow my King’s command but he? That vile villain, wishes to conquer.”

“Lemuria holds no dream of conquest,” it is your turn to scoff and look away. Xavier quickly cups your cheek and brings your gaze back to him. There is desperation and anger in his eyes, a hunger that slowly begins to overtake him.

“Lemuria may not,” Xavier whispers, “but he does. He doth desire to conquer thee as his own.”

Silence falls upon you. Your posture straightens and you turn away from Xavier, a chill running down your spine despite it being a hot night. Rafayel approaches the table and sits across from you, placing the plate in the center. His blue and pink eyes focus on Xavier, who remains effortlessly devoted to you, while you stare at the party that unfolds from afar, a look of confusion and calculation written all over your face.

“What? What concerns thee?” Rafayel asks with a quiet snort. He glares at Xavier before his expression softens as soon as you turn to face him.

“I wish to take my leave back to my chambers,” you stand and Xavier follows suit. “My betrothed will ensure I am safe.”

“No,” Rafayel stands and is quick to walk around the table. He takes your hands in his own before you even realize it, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. “Allow me, my lady.”

Xavier reaches to the connected hands, breaking them apart. He gently pushes you behind him, his tired and reddened eyes narrowed at the sailor. Rafayel clenches his jaw, his hands returning to his sides, before his eyes flicker back to you. He lets out a stiff chuckle. He bows his head and steps to the side. His eyes remain tied to Xavier’s, blissfully unaware as you reach for the sweet saffron bread from the plate, tucking it behind your back and out of sight.

“Fair night be unto thee, my domina,” Rafayel bows his head as Xavier guides you away, “we shall meet upon morrow’s dawn to take you home.”

You pause. Xavier looks down at you, noticing the strain that flashes across your face.

Home. Is that not the place you were plucked from? It is now a two day ride away from Nabira’s borders and after your journey across the sea, you will be months away, years if you travel by foot.

Xavier places his hand on the low of your back. He glares at Rafayel and gently pushes you forward. You walk through the crowd, bowing your head back at people who pay you the respect first.

Tonight, you were barely seen as a domina, as a political and heavenly figure that must have respect gifted towards. You were as normal as the servants who passed you by, their smiles as big as yours as you danced with Rafayel. Your feet hurt. Xavier remains close to your side, waving away any of his soldiers that step forward to help. The two of you find yourselves walking along the dock where the Abysswalker floats which sits beside your inn for the night.

Xavier remains a small distance from you, watching as you walk the line along the dock where the ocean water sprays you whenever a wave comes crashing in. There are no more lanterns around to guide you through the night. The only light now comes from the bright and full moon. You look down into the waves, the water as black as night. You look back up at Xavier, whose back straightens as soon as your eyes land on him. You hold out the piece of bread.

“Eat this,” you speak. He takes the bread and rips it apart, your mind still dizzy from the glasses of wine you have drank throughout the night. “It will save thee a headache.”

“Will it?” Xavier quietly hums to himself. He brings the spiced bread up to his lips, slowly chewing as he watches you. “Why take leave with me?”

“Why fill my head with thoughts of conquering and worry? Hm?” you are quick to counter. You slow your steps and so does Xavier. He finishes the bread with a few more bites, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What mission did thine accomplish?”

“Truth,” Xavier states.

The moonlight shines along your dark hair, the light reflecting off the strands. It brings Xavier comfort to know that the moon adorns you with its beauty, that the silver colors of the night suit you as much as the golden colors of a day in the desert do.

“Truth? Is that you speak of?” you step closer to Xavier. He simply nods in response. You do not know if he speaks of truth in an objective or subjective manner.

The problem with truth and so called honesty, as you have come to learn from many moments in your life, is that there is always motive behind it. People do not willingly expose their worries or sorrows, they do not put their cards on full display for their enemies to see because, well, that is what you and Xavier are, no? The truths that originate from men in power, from soldiers and nobles, are always attached with a hidden context, something that you know to look out for.

So…what is Xavier’s motive for showing you his cards?

“I do not wish to be thine enemy,” Xavier fills in the silence. The lights of the noble-run inn flicker. You focus on the yellow flames instead of the blue in Xavier’s irises. “I wish for us to unite as one.”

“The why speak of campaigns for my heart?” you ask, feeling vulnerability slip into your voice.

“Duty’s embrace is cruel, domina,” Xavier slips into your mother tongue. You hold back a gasp, shock written all over your face. “I do not wish to see us succumb to the cruelty and coldness that come with it.”

“Why does thou work hand in hand with it? Duty forced thee across the world! You are an accomplice to duty,” you speak, closing the distance between you and him. Perhaps it is the wine that has given you the courage to speak up. Maybe it is the way you have finally realized that you are now doomed and will be imprisoned in a place that does not want you.

“You are as much of an accomplice as I am,” Xavier counters.

“Duty did not force me to set honor to the side and traverse the realms to slay innocent people,” your breathing grows heavy, “it did not force me to smite those who oppose my rule.”

“You speak of thine brother?” Xavier switches back to his tongue. It frustrates you.

“Of course I speak of him,” tears fill your eyes, “he was taken from me. It was your doing.”

“He was well aware of his intent,” Xavier groans, “he knew the rules of combat as did I.”

“A battle to the death,” you laugh and push past him. The silk of your dress sends chills down his spine. “How pitiful.”

“What course of action would thou have taken, then?” Xavier grabs your hand, pulling you back to him.

“Terms,” you spit the word out, “terms for peace.”

“The battle between thine brother and I was the terms,” Xavier’s voice drops. “His fate hath been tied to him since birth as was yours. Be grateful that you are alive.”

“Grateful for a life of servitude and political games?” your anger begins to boil deep inside of your chest. “A life with a man who does not care for me? Who chose thee on a whim? Ah, yes, your Highness, I am eternally grateful for the life fate hath laid for me.”

You rip your hand free from Xavier’s. You turn around and rush towards the tall stone building, the wooden doors opening as soon as the soldiers spot you. Xavier is hot on your tail. You move with precision, the layout of the building already memorized in the back of your mind, as you traverse the stairwells and long corridors. Xavier has kept a decent distance, following you down the dark corridor that leads to your bedroom.

“Who said I do not care?” Xavier steps forward, closing the distance with a few easy strides while you hold the fabric of your dress skirt in your hands.

“Thou dost not care by forcing his betrothed to leave everything behind,” you approach your door and grab the black handle.

You pull on it but Xavier’s hand pushes the wooden panel back into its place, trapping it and you in the process. You can feel the heat from his body on your back. You close your eyes, fists balled at your sides, feeling as Xavier leans down, his lips grazing the fragrant skin of your neck. His hand leaves the door, wrapping itself around your body, keeping you in place. You do not fight back. You lean into his chest, your back fully pressed against him.

You remain near him despite all of the warning bells in your head ringing all at once. You ignore your mind’s plea for freedom, following your innate desire to remain close to the man you will call your husband.

Xavier slowly inhales, taking in the floral scent of your perfume. His free hand reaches around your body and plants itself on your chest. The heat from his hands seeps through the thin material and you shudder, a pool of warmth forming in the pits of your stomach. You let out a breathy sigh, tilting your head to the side to give Xavier more room.

“Duty’s embrace is cruel and cold,” Xavier murmurs against your skin. Your body heats up, your face flushed as you lay your hand on top of the one that rests on your chest. “Let us endure this trail as one.”

“As one?” you breathe out.

Xavier slowly kisses your neck. He starts at the base and works his way up, pressing a feathery kiss where your pulse is the most prominent. You gasp and push your body back into his. The candlelight is dark enough for the two of you to get away with this scene, your quiet breaths and the sounds of Xavier pressing his lips over and over along your skin the only things that will give you away.

“Why me, Xavier?” you ask.

Xavier turns you around, pressing your back up against the door, hands pressed against the wood on either side of your head. He towers over you, his breath smelling like mead and wine, a sweetness stained on his mouth. You reach out and place your fingertips upon his lips, dragging them across the leftover wine stains. Xavier kisses your fingers, his blue eyes locked onto yours. You shudder. The man frees his hand from the door and cups the side of your head, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair.

“Say it again,” Xavier whispers in your native language. He avoids the question. “Say my name.”

“Xavier,” you follow his command like the obedient wife you think he wishes you to be.

A low grunt vibrates in the back of his throat. Without wasting another second, Xavier pushes forward, connecting his lips with yours. His grip on your hair slightly tightens as you accept his tongue into your mouth. He leans into you, the door creaking from the weight. Neither of you care. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his closer to yours if it is even possible. Your breaths mix in as one, quiet words of praise coming from Xavier’s mouth, muffled between your colliding lips.

He finally tastes the wine you allowed upon your lips. You taste the saffron from the bread on his tongue. The bitter mixes in with the sweet, intoxicating you deeper into the kiss. He reaches down and lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his torso. The prince pushes you into the door, the tan stone acting as a barrier between you and the rest of the world.

Xavier pulls his lips away from your swollen ones, traveling down the side of your face to your neck. He targets your pulse point, biting down on your skin. You let out a gasp, eyes flying open from the sensation. Your legs tighten around him. You feel something press into your core. It shocks you. The sound of guards stirring near the stairs makes you dig your nails into his nape.

“Xavier,” you breathe out, head rolling back into the wood of the door. Your voice remains low, matching the quiet of the night. “We shall be discovered.”

“I do not wish to leave,” Xavier’s breath is hot against your skin. His hands travel from your waist to the fabric of your dress His fingers slip under the dress and graze along the back of your leg, leaving chills in his wake. “Do not make me leave.”

“My honor—”

“Shall remain intact,” Xavier sighs and pulls away from your neck. His eyes look at your skin, a small smirk forming across his lips as dark red and purple spots littler one side of your neck. He keeps you in his arms, using one hand to hold you while he opens your chamber doors. “Duty is cruel indeed,” he mutters under his breath.

He walks you inside your room, roaming towards the bed. You feel his defined muscles from under his cloth shirt, your cheeks heating up all over again. Xavier lowers you onto your bed, quickly gathering the scattered belongings and setting them on the trunk at the foot of your bed.

He stops at the bow. He picks it up, inspecting the golden accents that are molded into the dark wood. His blue eyes flicker to you, the prince setting the weapon down atop your weapons.

“I wish to see you shoot,” he comments, remaining in place.

“Thou will,” you whisper, “in time.”

Xavier nods. His eyes flit to the empty space in bed beside you, his body wanting to move to lay beside you. He slowly steps towards the door, the candlelight just bright enough to show him his way. He pushes it open and looks back at you, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“Until tomorrow, domina,” Xavier calls to you.

“Will you get me before we leave?” you quietly ask, sinking into the blankets below you.

“Of course,” Xavier nods.

The prince silently leaves the room, closing the bed chamber door to be as quiet as he can. Xavier quietly walks down the hall, finding himself at the stairwell. Just as he is about to set foot on the stones, he spots the Lemurian prince staring at him from below. He does not speak, simply glaring at the Philos Prince.

“Say it,” Xavier barks the command.

“Thou’s greed will ruin her,” Rafayel’s voice is low and dangerous. The muscles of his arms flex, his blue and pink eyes narrowing on the prince who stands at the entrance of the stairwell. “I refuse to see it happen.”

“Need not worry,” Xavier tilts his head to the side. He licks his lips, tasting the floral notes of the oil you graced your skin with. “She will be safe with me.”

“Is that so?” the Lemurian prince asks. He moves up the stairs, the men now at eye level with each other. “Do not make me sink a bait to be rid of you.”

“If I did not know any better, one would think thou has issued a threat,” Xavier’s eyes sharpen.

“Not a threat,” Rafayel’s eyes darken, “a promise.”

as always, likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated! please show love to the works & authors you read from!! <3 we love commenters!!

[velaenam]

once upon a time

caleb x non mc!reader tags: angst — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated.

years have passed since you parted ways with caleb. no big fight, no betrayal. the weight of his career was overshadowing your couldve been relationship. caleb buried himself in duty, promotions, endless missions, and his free time was given to mc.

he pretends he doesn’t do it, but he’ll catch himself checking old messages from you. how you’d tell him about your day, sweet recipes of what you two would make each other when someone came over, and how you two would make it work. he would listen to the voice mails from you, your sweet voice telling him that you loved him. how excited you were to attend one of his air shows. how happy he made you. 

he didn’t know how or why he let his career overtake his love for you, but he did, and he didn’t give you much of an option than to walk away. you didn’t want to be second— no— third place.

one night. half tired and half drunk on nostalgia he dials the number he still remembers by heart.

. . . you answer 

“hello?”

caleb freezes, he hears the voice. your voice. 

he doesn’t speak, his chest tightens. a flood of feelings come rushing as if a dam broke inside him.

“..hello?” you’d say again, softer but cautious, “i think you dialed the wrong number…”

caleb regains reality and finally murmurs, “but the right voice…”

you both fall quiet. the years that stretched between the two of you sliced like a blade. 

suddenly, you are a young woman dumb struck in love. head over heels over a boy who bought you a wedding dress.

there was once a time. 

almost quietly, you whisper, “… wrong time..” 

and as caleb goes to speak, he hears crying, “mommy! daddy says come! you missing show!”

he listens to you ruffle whatever you had on, and you sigh, “please don’t call me again caleb…..”

“i… still love you…” 

a long pause

“…goodbye..”

‘i love you too.’  you’d say to yourself, as you look at your closet containing the very dress he had gotten woven for you.

[velaenam]

reaching the angsty part of the fic that I chose for the angst

[velaenam]

I JUST FINISHED WATCHING TOP GUN 1 AND 2! I JUST HAD TO GO STRAIGHT TO YOUR ASKS. You are literally perfect for this job. VEL!! MAKE A TOP GUN X CALEB STORY PLEASEE I NEED CALEB AS MAVERICK

OUUU STOP I LOVE TOP GUN

although I do have like two story loosely based off that already;

take my breath away !!

10-4!!

reader from take my breath away is based on charlie, mavs love interest in the first one!

the bar scene from 10-4 is loosely based off of the top gun maverick bar scene :)

buut if you want maverick caleb x iceman (ice woman) reader where they’re like rivals ive so got you

[velaenam]

What are your thoughts on gege/meimei dynamic with Caleb? Calling him big brother, him calling us lil sister

It's fine I suppose. I don't really care for it myself. I won't go out of my way to write it, but if someone requests it I can write something for it.

( This is also the same answer for daddy/mommy kink stuff btw)

Idk if I answered this right 🥸 soz

[velaenam]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠..𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc/mc. caleb crashed into lake michigan! in chicago! in front of you! how are you supposed to handle an intergalactic space colonel with abs, manners, and absolutely no clue what walmart is? 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 –  reverse isekai (caleb comes to earth),romance,fluff,comedy, angst, nsfw topics/language, tba 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 1 of — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. lmk if u want to be tagged.

the humming of the farspace fleets deep tunnel grew louder inside his helmet. it was a low, almost soothing vibration that caleb had grown far too familiar with. another day, another shoddy mission. 

“tunnel stability at 98 percent” his earpiece whispers a calm and steady hum in his ear. 

calebs gloved fingers hovered above the holographic controls, eyes narrowed, every movement precise. the swirling lights of the tunnel outside the viewport pulsed in soft gradients of blue and violet like a spiraling galaxy. 

red.

a sudden spike flash across the console.

“warning: tunnel destabilization detected. energy surge inbound.”

calebs brow’s furrow, darting around commands into the console ai. as he does the tunnel outside began to shudder, colors fracturing into unnatural streaks. 

white lights crept into the edges of his visions like porcelain cracks. caleb’s breathing slowed, focused, “initiate emergency shu-”

a deafening pulse of energy surged through the cockpit, shaking the entire vessel. the white light consumed him. his system cracking into static. 

his lips find their way to his apple necklace.

silence.

it was supposed to be a normal afternoon. 

you’d brought your favorite lemonade, found your usual quiet spot by the lake, and pulled out your phone, ready to scroll through tiktok until your brain officially clocked out. the sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, this was nice. this was good. 

peaceful. chill.

honestly? you were thriving.

that is.. till something weird happened.

at first, it was just a strange hum. low but barely noticeable. you glanced around. Nobody seemed to notice. not that there were many people around. you were in a more secluded area of the lake.

the water in front of you rippled. your eyes snap towards the water observing it, already standing up to run.

and then- he appeared.

he just… emerged. like ariel on that rock. or whatever. oh, oh, like moto moto!

one second: empty lake. The next: a sexy man standing waist deep in the water as if reality had just uploaded him directly into lake michigan. 

you froze, blinking, your brain fully short circuiting.

the man was tall. broad. dressed in a military uniform that looked a bit too good on him, his eyes purple like amethyst.. soaked brown hair. his breathing was steady and controlled. he slowly lifted his head, scanning the area like a soldier assessing in a battlefield. and then his eyes landed on you.

you held your lemonade like it was a crucifix. the man tilted his head slightly, as if confused and curious. 

you did the only logical thing any person would do when confronted by a strange man materializing out of thin fucking air in broad daylight.

you whispered, “what the fuck?!”

(commercial break)

he took a slow step toward the shore, water streaming down the armored plates of his suit. you couldn’t move. your feet felt like they fused with the ground. 

you blink. this was not normal. this was odd and weird. you had eyeshot of the lake in front of you and you didn’t see a man walk within your peripherals in the past 15 minutes.

as you think, you fail to notice that he stood a few feet from you. his eyes scanned everything. the skyline. the parked cars. passing birds, you. his gaze was sharp and analytical, but you couldn’t help but catch the flicker of unease. 

for a moment neither of you spoke. then his voice, calm and low, “this isn’t… skyhaven..” 

you stared, “.... i don’t know what that is…” 

he inhaled a deep sigh, his jaw clenching slightly. his  eyes darted up to the sky, scanning. then around again. His hand reached up, unfastening something at his neck. he pulls off the jacket bearing unfamiliar insignia.  

he followed by tugging off his cap, running a hand through his damp hair. without the uniform he almost looked like any other ridiculously good looking chicago tourist who happened to have just crawled out of the lake in his dress blues?

 almost.

his eyes settled back on you. “you’re local,” he stated. not a question.

“y-yeah,” you said, still clutching your drink like a nervous squirrel, “uh. chicago.”

another pause. you watched as he took a small, subtle breath, adjusting his posture, as though trying to blend in. his military ‘tude slipped into something softer, calculated, but oddly polite.

“i need to speak with you. somewhere less exposed.”

you hesitated, your brain running full speed through every true crime documentary you’d ever watched. but there was something about him that didn’t scream danger. he seemed… lost. out of place.

and possibly extremely confused.

…..BUT MAYBE THIS IS WHAT HE WOULD WANT YOU TO THINK

"...you don’t have any weapons on you, do you?"

his brow twitched slightly, almost like a tiny flash of amusement. “no. not at the moment.”

"...okay." against every ounce of common sense, you sighed. “come on. my car’s over there.” oh, what would your parents think?

he followed without hesitation, keeping pace exactly one step behind you. polite, controlled, but clearly still assessing everything like this entire planet was a potential threat.

you unlocked your car, climbed into the driver’s seat, and tried very hard not to hyperventilate as he sat himself into the passenger side, closing the door.

a beat of silence filled the cabin.

you finally turned to him and blurted out, “okay. who — or what — are you?”

the silence hung for a long, awkward beat.

you stared at him, your brain still trying to process any of this, as your fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles went pale. he sat there like this was a perfectly normal tuesday.

finally, he spoke.

“my name is caleb xia. colonel. farspace fleet .this is not my world.”

you blinked.your mouth opened slightly, but all that came out was a soft, strangled noise. “...what.”

“i was traveling through a deep tunnel corridor,” he continued, his voice low, calm, like he was giving a report. “there was a malfunction. anomalous coordinates. i lost control of the vessel’s trajectory and…” his eyes scanned the unfamiliar cityscape out your windshield again. “i arrived here.”

you stared at him.

and then you laughed..

“i’m sorry — what?” you sputtered. “you expect me to believe you're from... space? like, intergalactic, star wars? not, like, russia or something?”

his brow twitched ever so slightly at your comparison. “star wars..? no. no.”

“oh my god, you’re serious.” you clapped a hand over your mouth. “okay. so you’re from skyhaven? which isn’t on google maps, by the way. a colonel?”

“correct.”

you gave him your absolute most deadpan, wide-eyed stare. “are you having a psychotic break?”

if caleb was offended, he didn’t show it. In fact, you thought you saw something flicker across his expression — patience. like he’d expected this. like he’d already calculated your reaction before you even had it.

without a word, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

you immediately stiffened. “hey, whoa—”

“i’m not armed,” he assured smoothly, pulling out a small, sleek object — no bigger than a deck of cards. the surface shimmered with a faint blue light, metallic but almost liquid in how it reflected. there were no buttons. no seams. the edges curved unnaturally smooth. it definitely didn’t look like anything sold at best buy.

he tapped it once, and the surface came alive . a floating projection emerged, rotating gently in midair like a miniature hologram. complex glyphs and symbols you couldn’t even begin to read spun around a glowing image of what looked like... a planet? a star system?

“this is a navigational core module,” he said quietly. “it tracks dimensional coordinates for deep tunnel travel.” his eyes lifted to meet yours. soft but firm. “your world isn’t on any of our charts.”

your jaw dropped open.

you looked at the hologram. then at him. then back at the floating image, which was still calmly rotating in front of your very real, very human face.

your brain screamed: THAT’S NOT AN IPAD.

“holy shit,” you whispered.

you kept staring at the floating projection like your brain was buffering. if this was a prank, it was a really good one. but nothing about him screamed prank. everything screamed calm, extremely dangerous man who accidentally landed in chicago from a freaking alternate universe, and #needthat.

your voice came out small. “...is that real?”

caleb calmly deactivated the device with a brush of his fingertips — it folded back into itself like liquid metal and slipped neatly into his jacket again.

“i anticipated you’d require additional verification.”

he pulled something else out of his suit. a sleek, block. his phone.

he tapped the screen. the interface lit up in a design you couldn’t even recognize — elegant, minimalistic, even though it was a normal looking phone.

he handed it to you.

you hesitated but took it carefully, half expecting it to electrocute you. the screen pulsed slightly as if reading your touch, but otherwise, it let you scroll. there were apps you didn’t recognize.  

no google. no instagram. no facebook. no tiktok.

your eyebrows furrowed as you flicked through what appeared to be his photo library.

and that’s when you saw it.

a picture of him standing beside a girl — smiling, standing on what looked like a floating platform overlooking a glowing futuristic skyline. the city was breathtaking: glittering towers spiraled into the clouds, neon highways coiled between buildings, flying vehicles zipping silently through the air.

you blinked at the girl beside him. she was pretty, soft-featured, and looked very familiar.

“...is this your girlfriend?” you asked, feeling a weird stab in your chest for absolutely no reason.

caleb glanced at the photo. his expression softened for the first time. “its… complicated.” “oh.” you blinked again, glancing down at the skyline. “is this skyhaven?”

he nodded.  your jaw dropped as you scrolled through more photos — linkon’s towering buildings, vast technological hubs, alien landscapes, even images of creatures you didn’t recognize , all shimmering under unfamiliar constellations.

“this looks like a star wars movie,” you whispered. “only it’s… real.”

star …wars? “it is,” caleb said softly, watching you with quiet amusement as your eyes grew wide with every swipe. “everything you know here would be considered… primitive. in comparison.”

you gave him a scandalized look. “wow. thanks. way to make a girl feel special.”

for the briefest second, you thought you saw something that almost resembled a small smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

.

you sat there for a few seconds, staring at his face — at the phone still in your hands, at his perfectly calm expression, at the absurdity of what your life had just become in the span of fifteen minutes.

“okay….” you finally breathed. “you… you’re real. you’re actually real.”

“i told you i was.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

you stared at him again. “you literally just glitched into my lake.” he blinked. “yes.”

you groaned softly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “okay. you can’t just… sit in my car forever. we can’t sit here. i guess….you can come back to my place while we figure this out.”

he didn’t even hesitate. “hmm.. acceptable.”

you started the car and pulled onto the road, mentally drafting a list of increasingly bad decisions you were making today. bringing a strange man to your apartment? who may or may not be from another dimension? yeah. real smart. 

it wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot and glanced at him again that your brain hit another very important wall.

oh no.

you had no men's clothing.

you stared at his still-damp suit. he looked like a psyop..!! there was no way you could let him just walk around like that. it screamed cia experiment or cosplay gone way too far.

“okay so…” you said, teeth gritted. “tinyyy problem. you can’t wear that.”

caleb looked down at himself, mildly analyzing the gear. “why not?”

“you’re gonna draw attention. and by attention, i mean you’ll be trending on twitter within thirty minutes. we need to get you into something… normal.”

he nodded, calmly accepting the foreign terms. “then where do we acquire appropriate attire?”

you sighed. “ walmart.”

his brow quirked slightly. “....is that a supplier?” …..well… “sure.” you waved your hand mumbling under your breath, “let’s go with that….”

you drove in silence for a while. stealing glances at caleb sitting perfectly composed in your passenger seat. like being abducted by a complete stranger was totally normal.

meanwhile, your brain was NOT composed. ‘alternate dimension.. far…space…fleet? colonel? another universe? and i have to deal with this at a WALMART?’

“...you sure you’re okay?” you finally ask. “i’m fine.” he answers calmly, his hands resting neatly on his lap, posture completely upright as if he was on a mission. 

“functioning.. gotcha..”  you pulled into the walmart parking lot and immediately regretted every life choice you had made up to this point. it was packed. absolutely packed. cars were crammed into every possible corner. people with their carts wandering around to their cars. horns honking. yelling.

if that wasn’t the cherry on top, a man on the corner twirling his sale sign is now fighting a.. pigeon?  caleb observed it all with the same calm expression he’d worn since appearing in your life. “this is… an important area?” he asked, and you didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed at how cramped walmart always seemed to be. “apparently.” you mumbled.

the sign man swats at the pigeon, and spins a perfect 360 while the pigeon flaps at him, and you’re confused. caleb tilts his head slightly, genuinely curious, “is this like a… ritual?” you shake your head at him and for what felt like eternity, you finally spot a parking space. 

you weave the endless crowds and cars like a pro.

caleb stayed close behind you, silent and hyper-alert. his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. you could feel stares at him as you weave through people. stares that state, “holy shit he’s tall..” and “oh i’d like to climb him like a jungle gym.” 

the automatic doors whoosh open and..

boom (no not like-)

the walmart hit him all at once.

bright fluorescent lights. loud overhead announcements. giant colorful banners screaming ‘SALE!!’ endless rows of overstocked shelves. the smell of popcorn and something you’d rather not know.

caleb subtly stiffened. his pupils contracted slightly as he looked around, processing the overwhelmingness that is walmart. “this is…” he starts in a low voice, unsure how to proceed. “welcome to america.” you whisper to him.

as you continue deeper towards the store you huff, 

“okay, let’s just get you some clothes before you accidentally get drafted into the army or something..” you said quickly, tugging him gently toward the men’s section. as you steer him through the aisle full of cargo shorts and graphic tees, caleb’s brow furrow at the embarrassing phrases on them.

“is this… what you guys wear..?” he asks, eyeing the rack of t-shirts that read: “ beer bacon and FREEDOM!! ”  you exhale through your nose, “i really hope not.”

as you pull a few t-shirts off the rack, sticking to compliment him instead of making him stick out even more. as you do, you couldn’t hold your curiosity.

“okay can i ask something?”  caleb, standing behind you, turns his head slightly, “what is it?”

“your name… caleb.. that’s like… just your name?” you gestured vaguely, “you’re from like… super earth, and your name is caleb?” 

a small smile touches the corner of his lips, barely. “is there something wrong with my name?” 

you flushed at his question, “no! i just thought it’d be… i don’t know– something more futuristic…?”  as you say that you’re reminded that star wars has a protagonist named luke skywalker. things suddenly seem less befuddled. 

he watched you for a moment longer, amusement behind his eyes, “we have normal names. not everything about my world is different.” you huff, “sure.. except for the part where you’re from another dimension.”

you couldn’t help it. your brain was still whirring. hologram. his iphone 90 or something. the photos. but people did craz things with ai these days. maybe you’re getting scammed right now. or maybe.. you swallowed… he was in a cult…

your mind spiraled: oh my god what if he’s part of a cult and i’m being fucking recruited right now. hot guys from the ‘future’? i’m getting cult-fished… fuck

“okay.. okay.” you blurt before you could stop yourself, “are you in a cult?” calebs eyes shoot towards you, caught off guard, “a.. cult?” he repeats you, and you nod, “like.. weird secret group.. brain wash…you know?” 

his lips press together briefly before he shakes his head softly, “no.” his voice was steady, quiet, and firm. “i am not part of a cult. i’m a colonel of a fleet.” 

there was something in his tone that made your stomach tighten. something fiercely protective under all that calm. you stare at him, trying to poke holes, “ok but all the photos and stuff.. it could be ai..you can barely tell these days!” you half whisper half shout. caleb holds your gaze, steady and unflinching, “that’s true..” he wasn’t offended, “you have no reason to trust me..”

his honestly actually threw you off more than if he had tried to defend himself.

you pull your phone out, quickly typing his full name into google. caleb watches as you quietly scroll through pages of… nothing. no profiles. mentions. linkedin. instagram. facebooks. no news articles. 

you glanced up at him, your heartbeat picking up, “you don’t exist…” – “i do.” he replies softly, “just not here.” 

you open your mouth but no words come out. his voice drops, more gentler now, as if he could sense your overwhelm. “i know it’s impossible. i know how hard this is right now.” he murmurs, eyes locking into yours, “but i’m here. and i am real.” you stare at him, throat dry, 

“god…” you mumble.

.

thankfully after a couple minutes of scanning racks and checking random aisles out, caleb gravitated toward something that actually worked. a dark jacket, fitted white tshirt underneath, dark jeans, and sneakers. honestly? he was giving model vibes. 

you blinked, half impressed, half still spiraling, “how did.. you pick this out so fast..?” 

caleb glanced down at himself, adjusting the jacket slightly, as if evaluating the fit. “something i’d wear back home..” he glanced around briefly before looking back at you, a small grin appearing on his face, “...blending in increases safety.”

you gave him a flat look. “you just analyzed a walmart fit like a military op.”

he offered you one of those tiny composed smiles again, “i’ve got a couple years under my belt.” 

after that you take him to a couple of rows away, “we’re gonna get you pajamas.” caleb’s eyes dart at said pajamas, “i sleep shirtless.” he says calmly and you freeze. you snap out of it and sigh as you mentally prepare to be in walmart for another 30 minutes.

you made it a mission to fill the basket: grey sweatpants, PLAIN tshirts, socks, underwear (you did NOT make eye contact during that aisle) and a basic hoodie. 

‘hes gonna look so fuckin’ fine’

you’re not saying that out loud though. you have some self preservation instincts!

then it hits you.

he has no place to go. no hotel. no wallet. no earth money. hes not even in the solar system. 

you freeze with a loofah in your hand, staring at him in sudden horror, “oh. my god.” you whisper, “you have to stay with me.” why aren’t your survival skills working? 

he looks at you and nods, “yeah.” – “that wasn’t a question!” – “i assumed as much” he drops the toothbrushes into the cart, “you’re a stable option.” he informs, “oh great-” you mutter, “-i’m a stable option.” 

“would you rather i sleep outside?” caleb steps closer, “no.” you mumble, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of him shirtless on your tiny couch, “god no.. just..” your lips twitch, “can you stop being so calm about this? you crash landed in lake michigan.” 

“- and now i’m getting socks. it’s called adapting.” you process his reply and you just roll your eyes, throwing the loofah into the cart. 

. 

the drive home is quiet. your brain is still playing catch up, trying to process the fact that there is a possibly extra dimensional man sitting in your  passenger seat, calmly holding a walmart bag filled with irish spring and old spice. 

when you pull into your garage, the overhead flickers a hum, casting a warm glow over the empty space. as you let out a sigh, you reach for the door handle,

“stop. i’ll get it.” caleb says. your eyes flicker at him and before you can argue, he’s already out, moving around the front of the car. you blink as he opens your door for you, then effortlessly grabs every single bag from the back like it’s nothing. 

“seriously-” you say, shutting your odor, “you’re gonna pull your arm out of socket! let me carry something.” caleb looks at you, unfazed, “you’ve already done enough. i can handle this.” 

that shouldn’t make you feel something.. but it does…

maybe it’s the calm confidence in his tone, or the way the bags crinkle against his hoodie as he turns to the house.. like this was a normal outing– a chore. maybe because he didn’t say it in a smug way a guy might do. 

either way, you catch yourself staring. blushing.  oh god.

you look away quickly and fish your keys out of your purse, “okay well.. thank you! come in..” you whisper in reverence.

he waits patiently behind you as you unlock the side door and lead him into the kitchen. the bags crinkle softly as he sets them on the counter. your tiny kitchen suddenly feels smaller. warmer. like his presence is filling every inch of the space. 

you clear your throat, “i uh..i’ll show you the guest room. it’s a glorified storage room right now but-” “it’s fine.” he says smoothly, eyes scanning the room like he’s still mentally mapping it for exits. “you’ve extended more hospitality than most would.” 

you swallow, “yeah well.. I’m not most..”

his gaze lands on you then, unwavering, “i know.”

you immediately look away again and give him a quiet little house tour.

the living room first. cozy, and a bit small, but its warm with soft throw blankets, fresh flowers on the table, and somewhere you’d like to be at during christmas time. caleb’s eyes linger on that a moment longer than necessary. 

then a hallway, “this is the bathroom,” you say, pointing, “and then this is the… guest room, but that’s a generous title.” 

you nudge the door open, revealing a space that looks like it belongs in a pinterest board. theres a twin bed with an oversized blanket, a small dresser, some spare boxes stacked in the corner, and your extra vacuum leaning against the wall like an elephant in the room.

“it’s tidy.” caleb says simply as he steps in. he runs his hand gently across the edge of the dresser, “you keep things clean.” your eyes flicker up to his face. he doesn’t say it in a judging way– more like appreciates it. or finds comfort in it..

“uh yeah..” you say softly, rubbing your arm, “i like it that way..i don’t do well with messes..”

“i can tell,” he chuckles dryly, “it feels safe in here.” you freeze for half a second. safe. why did that make your stomach do a full somersault?

“anyway-” you clear your throat and gently shove the walmart bag at him, “here’s your stuff. feel free to shower first. i’ll put the rest away..” he nods quietly and composed, then walks toward the bathroom like he already memorized the floor plan. 

a few minutes later, you’re folding his new hoodie and tshirt over the dresser when you hear the faint clunk of the bathroom door swinging open. you turn around instinctively– and you freeze.

he’s in a hot towel– sorry- hes in a normal towel. hes hot. right.

a singular, low slung towel wrapped around his hips, droplets of water still slinging into his collarbone, trailing down his chest. you don’t even know how someone can look that sculpted and casual at the same time. your jaw drops so fast it almost dislocates. caleb blinks, toothbrush in hand, a hand towel in the other, his hair slightly wet and pushed back, “you said to grab my clothes, didn’t you?” 

you forget how to speak. your brain just starts shouting words like shoulders, abs, did i vacuum under the bed? boom shakalaka yes godddd.

“i-uh — yeah.” you finally stammer, holding out his folded clothes like a peace offering, “yes– here– clothes. wear these.” he walks over, very calmly, unfazed, and takes the clothes from you. his fingers graze yours. your soul leaves your body. 

“thank you,” he says, low and warm, then turns to go back into the bathroom. you don’t move for a full minute and just stare at the closed door as you marinate in your thoughts. ‘hes gorgeous. but hes a stranger. hes a man…. a tall, strong, man. he hasn’t hurt you..YET..OR–OR maybe hes a good man!’ you feel delusion settling in as you anticipate your turn in the shower.

.

you shoulder after him, shutting the door a little too quickly behind you, still mentally reeling from the towel moment. no thoughts, just abs and a freshly shaven happy trail. you try to focus. your favorite shampoo. face wash. don’t slip and die in the tub because an interdimensional colonel made eye contact with your entire nervous system now.

when you emerge, fresh faced and dressed in your coziest FLATTERING pajama set, the scene of clean cotton and a little anxiety clinging to you, you find caleb already sitting at the tiny kitchen table. He’s wearing the black hoodie you got him, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, and he’s quietly examining a salt shaker like some artifact. you’re a little breathless from how normal he makes it look. 

“dinner is gonna be easy today..” you say, moving past him and into the kitchen, “pasta and garlic bread with um…brownies for dessert.”  he tilts his head, “brownies? what kind?” your eyes slightly light up, “hm.. just normal ones.. any requests?” you say, kinda but not really surprised that he knew about brownies. 

you make quick work of the food. boiling, cooking the protein, heating the sauce, and trying not to burn the garlic bread. caleb watches, like it’s a science experiment. you offer him the job of grating the cheese to distract him, and he takes it seriously. 

dinner is eaten quietly, but not uncomfortably so. you’re sipping water when you finally muster the courage to say, “i was gonna watch something after to wind down. you can join if you want.” 

“i’d like to.” he says, wiping his hands neatly.

you both end up in the couch— him sitting at the very end, and you curl up at the other corner. you pick something light. funny. Something you’ve been half watching in the background lately. “it’s called never have i ever.” you mumble, “teen drama. really girl/woman centered.” caleb gives you a nod, “okay.”

the first five minutes are unbearable. you’re overthinking everything. is caleb bored? is he judging the terrible voiceover by john mcenroe? greatest tennis player ever? oh god, theres a make out scene, already? 

but then he chuckles. very faintly, and you blink at him, “did you just …laugh?” caleb shrugs casually, “i like devi. she’s intense.” you stare at him for a minute before you start to laugh as well, “alright- that’s fair.”

by episode two, the space between you two has closed slightly. you aren’t too sure when it happened. maybe when you passed him a brownie. maybe when you both made the same noise at the love triangle. 

.

it’s nearing midnight when you finally glance at the clock and groan. you stretch where you sat and mumble, rubbing your eyes, “i have to sleep.. I have to check in at the boutique tomorrow..” a part of you feels disappointed, but the other half feels giddy.

caleb nods from the other end, then his eyes make their way towards you, “alright.” you stand and start collecting dishes and brownie crumbs, trying not to think too hard about how normal this feels. like his presence didn’t turn your life inside out in the last ten hours. “I’ll be gone for maybe a couple hours..” you say, stacking plates in the sink. “you could…um.. reorient yourself? chill. stay inside. maybe … don’t get arrested?”

he raises a brow, “why would i get arrested?” 

you gesture vaguely, “i.. don’t know..” which earns you the tiniest smirk from him, “i’ll.. keep a low profile.” you nod, mostly to yourself, as you back down the hallway toward your bedroom. 

you pause at your door, hand on the knob, very suddenly aware that this is your last line of defense between you and the very calm, very lethal, possibly single man in your living room. you squint at him suspiciously, “i swear if you kill me in my sleep..” 

his eyes meet yours without hesitation.

“make it quick..” you finish, deadpan, “i’ve seen too many true crime stories..” 

caleb blinks slowly, amused, “i’ll keep that in mind..”  

you couldn’t help but smile a little

“goodnight space colonel.” 

“goodnight.” he mumbles your name softly. 

                                                                         next chapter

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @miffysoo, @rcvcgers, @udejoenrlddo, @calebsmorena, @carmendanny2, @alayaaaahhhhhh, @asilaydead, @ellexamor, @inzayneforaj, @unstablemiss, @romils, @animegamerfox, @floatinginaer, @sleepisfortheweakpooh, @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes, @nm4565natty, @mentaltrouble2201, @solarlovesxyz, @awwhks, @cinnamonpinktea, @taenosaurrr, @twistedtastefulme, @blessdunrest

[velaenam]

tw: cyberbullying

my experience in the lads tumblr community has been nothing short of wonderful. i'll forever cherish the breathtaking™ friends i've made, the hilarious reblogs i've read, the prize-winning fics i've devoured... while writing can be exhausting at times, there's nothing more fulfilling than interacting with other like minds and doing what i love in the form of written prose.

that being said, i've been incredibly lucky—others have not been as fortunate. albeit rare, there are horrible, toxic blogs lurking in this community; the same ones who send anonymous hate messages and shit on women for enjoying themselves in spaces that are supposed to be "safe".

one of my favorite blogs received a hate comment about their latest fic, sent by the same anon who'd rushed them to complete said fic. this happened a month ago, and they haven't updated their blog since. it's heartbreaking.

of course, this has nothing to do with their writing whatsoever. toxic blogs are everywhere, and can pop up in anyone's inbox / dms. hate is never exclusive—some of are just lucky enough to have received less of it, and for the time being.

please send your love and support to those who you know are being / have been harassed by rude blogs. please condemn these blogs for their behavior. and please, please be kind to others. you never know how much weight your words can carry. being part of a community is more than just posting or liking or replying. we have to look out for one another and lift each other up, for at the end of the day, we're all just trying to coexist in a safe space where we're free to do / consume what we love.

[velaenam]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠..𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 (sneak peak)

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc/mc. caleb crashed into lake michigan! in chicago! in front of you! how are you supposed to handle an intergalactic space colonel with abs, manners, and absolutely no clue what walmart is? 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 –  reverse isekai (caleb comes to earth),romance,fluff,comedy, angst, nsfw topics/language, tba 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 – kinda proofread. i hope ur well, i hope you take this SNEAK PEAK as a token... plz leave me dms and comments and lmk if this is something you're interested in! i will be uploading this in my ao3. — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. lmk if u want to be tagged.

the humming of the farspace fleets deep tunnel grew louder inside his helmet. it was a low, almost soothing vibration that caleb had grown far too familiar with. another day, another shoddy mission. 

“tunnel stability at 98 percent” his earpiece whispers a calm and steady hum in his ear. 

calebs gloved fingers hovered above the holographic controls, eyes narrowed, every movement precise. the swirling lights of the tunnel outside the viewport pulsed in soft gradients of blue and violet like a spiraling galaxy. 

red.

a sudden spike flash across the console.

“warning: tunnel destabilization detected. energy surge inbound.”

calebs brow’s furrow, darting around commands into the console ai. as he does the tunnel outside began to shudder, colors fracturing into unnatural streaks. 

white lights crept into the edges of his visions like porcelain cracks. caleb’s breathing slowed, focused, “initiate emergency shu-”

a deafening pulse of energy surged through the cockpit, shaking the entire vessel. the white light consumed him. his system cracking into static. 

his lips find their way to his apple necklace.

silence.

it was supposed to be a normal afternoon. 

you’d brought your favorite lemonade, found your usual quiet spot by the lake, and pulled out your phone, ready to scroll through tiktok until your brain officially clocked out. the sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, this was nice. this was good. 

peaceful. chill.

honestly? you were thriving.

that is.. till something weird happened.

at first, it was just a strange hum. low but barely noticeable. you glanced around. Nobody seemed to notice. not that there were many people around. you were in a more secluded area of the lake.

the water in front of you rippled. your eyes snap towards the water observing it, already standing up to run.

and then- he appeared.

he just… emerged. like ariel on that rock. or whatever. oh, oh, like moto moto!

one second: empty lake. The next: a sexy man standing waist deep in the water as if reality had just uploaded him directly into lake michigan. 

you froze, blinking, your brain fully short circuiting.

the man was tall. broad. dressed in a military uniform that looked a bit too good on him, his eyes purple like amethyst.. soaked brown hair. his breathing was steady and controlled. he slowly lifted his head, scanning the area like a soldier assessing in a battlefield. and then his eyes landed on you.

you held your lemonade like it was a crucifix. the man tilted his head slightly, as if confused and curious. 

you did the only logical thing any person would do when confronted by a strange man materializing out of thin fucking air in broad daylight.

you whispered, “what the fuck?!”

(commercial break)

he took a slow step toward the shore, water streaming down the armored plates of his suit. you couldn’t move. your feet felt like they fused with the ground. 

you blink. this was not normal. this was odd and weird. you had eyeshot of the lake in front of you and you didn’t see a man walk within your peripherals in the past 15 minutes.

as you think, you fail to notice that he stood a few feet from you. his eyes scanned everything. the skyline. the parked cars. passing birds, you. his gaze was sharp and analytical, but you couldn’t help but catch the flicker of unease. 

for a moment neither of you spoke. then his voice, calm and low, “this isn’t… skyhaven..” 

you stared, “.... i don’t know what that is…” 

he inhaled a deep sigh, his jaw clenching slightly. his  eyes darted up to the sky, scanning. then around again. His hand reached up, unfastening something at his neck. he pulls off the jacket bearing unfamiliar insignia.  

he followed by tugging off his cap, running a hand through his damp hair. without the uniform he almost looked like any other ridiculously good looking chicago tourist who happened to have just crawled out of the lake in his dress blues?

 almost.

his eyes settled back on you. “you’re local,” he stated. not a question.

“y-yeah,” you said, still clutching your drink like a nervous squirrel, “uh. chicago.”

another pause. you watched as he took a small, subtle breath, adjusting his posture, as though trying to blend in. his military ‘tude slipped into something softer, calculated, but oddly polite.

“i need to speak with you. somewhere less exposed.”

you hesitated, your brain running full speed through every true crime documentary you’d ever watched. but there was something about him that didn’t scream danger. he seemed… lost. out of place.

and possibly extremely confused.

…..BUT MAYBE THIS IS WHAT HE WOULD WANT YOU TO THINK

"...you don’t have any weapons on you, do you?"

his brow twitched slightly, almost like a tiny flash of amusement. “no. not at the moment.”

"...okay." against every ounce of common sense, you sighed. “come on. my car’s over there.” oh, what would your parents think?

he followed without hesitation, keeping pace exactly one step behind you. polite, controlled, but clearly still assessing everything like this entire planet was a potential threat.

you unlocked your car, climbed into the driver’s seat, and tried very hard not to hyperventilate as he sat himself into the passenger side, closing the door.

a beat of silence filled the cabin.

you finally turned to him and blurted out, “okay. who — or what — are you?”

the silence hung for a long, awkward beat.

you stared at him, your brain still trying to process any of this, as your fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles went pale. he sat there like this was a perfectly normal tuesday.

finally, he spoke.

“my name is caleb xia. colonel. farspace fleet .this is not my world.”

you blinked.your mouth opened slightly, but all that came out was a soft, strangled noise. “...what.”

“i was traveling through a deep tunnel corridor,” he continued, his voice low, calm, like he was giving a report. “there was a malfunction. anomalous coordinates. i lost control of the vessel’s trajectory and…” his eyes scanned the unfamiliar cityscape out your windshield again. “i arrived here.”

you stared at him.

and then you laughed..

“i’m sorry — what?” you sputtered. “you expect me to believe you're from... space? Like, intergalactic, star wars? not, like, russia or something?”

his brow twitched ever so slightly at your comparison. “star wars..? no. no.”

“oh my god, you’re serious.” you clapped a hand over your mouth. “okay. so you’re from skyhaven? which isn’t on google maps, by the way. a colonel?”

“correct.”

you gave him your absolute most deadpan, wide-eyed stare. “are you having a psychotic break?”

if caleb was offended, he didn’t show it. In fact, you thought you saw something flicker across his expression — patience. like he’d expected this. like he’d already calculated your reaction before you even had it.

without a word, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

you immediately stiffened. “hey, whoa—”

“i’m not armed,” he assured smoothly, pulling out a small, sleek object — no bigger than a deck of cards. the surface shimmered with a faint blue light, metallic but almost liquid in how it reflected. there were no buttons. no seams. the edges curved unnaturally smooth. it definitely didn’t look like anything sold at best buy.

he tapped it once, and the surface came alive . a floating projection emerged, rotating gently in midair like a miniature hologram. complex glyphs and symbols you couldn’t even begin to read spun around a glowing image of what looked like... a planet? a star system?

“this is a navigational core module,” he said quietly. “it tracks dimensional coordinates for deep tunnel travel.” his eyes lifted to meet yours. soft but firm. “your world isn’t on any of our charts.”

your jaw dropped open.

you looked at the hologram. then at him. then back at the floating image, which was still calmly rotating in front of your very real, very human face.

your brain screamed: THAT’S NOT AN IPAD.

“holy shit,” you whispered.

you kept staring at the floating projection like your brain was buffering. if this was a prank, it was a really good one. but nothing about him screamed prank. everything screamed calm, extremely dangerous man who accidentally landed in chicago from a freaking alternate universe, and #needthat.

your voice came out small. “...is that real?”

caleb calmly deactivated the device with a brush of his fingertips — it folded back into itself like liquid metal and slipped neatly into his jacket again.

“i anticipated you’d require additional verification.”

he pulled something else out of his suit. a sleek, block. his phone.

he tapped the screen. the interface lit up in a design you couldn’t even recognize — elegant, minimalistic, even though it was a normal looking phone.

he handed it to you.

you hesitated but took it carefully, half expecting it to electrocute you. the screen pulsed slightly as if reading your touch, but otherwise, it let you scroll. there were apps you didn’t recognize.  

no google. no instagram. no facebook. no tiktok.

your eyebrows furrowed as you flicked through what appeared to be his photo library.

and that’s when you saw it.

a picture of him standing beside a girl — smiling, standing on what looked like a floating platform overlooking a glowing futuristic skyline. the city was breathtaking: glittering towers spiraled into the clouds, neon highways coiled between buildings, flying vehicles zipping silently through the air.

you blinked at the girl beside him. she was pretty, soft-featured, and looked very familiar.

“...is this your girlfriend?” you asked, feeling a weird stab in your chest for absolutely no reason.

caleb glanced at the photo. his expression softened for the first time. “its… complicated.” “oh.” You blinked again, glancing down at the skyline. “is this skyhaven?���

he nodded.  your jaw dropped as you scrolled through more photos — linkon’s towering buildings, vast technological hubs, alien landscapes, even images of creatures you didn’t recognize , all shimmering under unfamiliar constellations.

“this looks like a star wars movie,” you whispered. “only it’s… real.”

star …wars? “it is,” caleb said softly, watching you with quiet amusement as your eyes grew wide with every swipe. “everything you know here would be considered… primitive. in comparison.”

you gave him a scandalized look. “wow. thanks. way to make a girl feel special.”

for the briefest second, you thought you saw something that almost resembled a small smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

.

you sat there for a few seconds, staring at his face — at the phone still in your hands, at his perfectly calm expression, at the absurdity of what your life had just become in the span of fifteen minutes.

“okay….” you finally breathed. “you… you’re real. you’re actually real.”

“i told you i was.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

you stared at him again. “you literally just glitched into my lake.” he blinked. “yes.”

you groaned softly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “okay. you can’t just… sit in my car forever. we can’t sit here. i guess….you can come back to my place while we figure this out.”

he didn’t even hesitate. “hmm.. acceptable.”

you started the car and pulled onto the road, mentally drafting a list of increasingly bad decisions you were making today. bringing a strange man to your apartment? who may or may not be from another dimension? yeah. real smart. 

it wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot and glanced at him again that your brain hit another very important wall.

oh no.

you had no men's clothing.

you stared at his still-damp suit. he looked like a psyop..!! there was no way you could let him just walk around like that. it screamed cia experiment or cosplay gone way too far.

“okay so…” you said, teeth gritted. “tinyyy problem. you can’t wear that.”

caleb looked down at himself, mildly analyzing the gear. “why not?”

“you’re gonna draw attention. and by attention,i mean you’ll be trending on twitter within thirty minutes. we need to get you into something… normal.”

he nodded, calmly accepting the foreign terms. “then where do we acquire appropriate attire?”

you sighed. “walmart.”his brow quirked slightly. “....is that a supplier?” …..well… “sure.” you waved your hand mumbling under your breath, “let’s go with that….”

.

[velaenam]

hi everybody i hope you’re well!! im really sorry for the sudden absence. life has picked up and ive been busy, and im going to be busy for a while. i just wanted to let you all know that ill be updating like INSANELY slow. i write when I have time. i really appreciate your patience and support ❤️🥹

i do see the love and support and DMs and asks and thank you all so much for interacting with me even though i may not be responsive!!

some chapter/multi fic stories are probably going to be put in the back burner just until i can figure out what I want to do to it or whatever. for now i may just stick to one shots (if i can even write)

with that being said, i recently finished my new fave The Wheel Of Time, and i really wanna write about it… everybody should go watch it it’s so we can talk about it together….. aes sedai reader and warder lads boys??!!

[velaenam]

𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc/mc. a lifelong love story that transcends loss, where caleb’s devotion endures through years of grief until he’s finally reunited with his beloved in the afterlife. w.c: 21.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 –  romance,fluff,angst,loss of life, grief, pregnancy, afterlife 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 – kinda proofread. i came up with this after listening to every breath you take by the police. i truly truly hope you enjoy it. — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated.

the sun is just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the quiet street. you’re playing in your front yard, the grass tickling your bare feet, when you hear it… a sound that makes your heart race with excitement: the unmistakable crunch of gravel underfoot. you freeze for a moment, squinting toward the new house next door.

someone’s moving in.

you’ve been eagerly waiting for new neighbors. your childhood, though filled with family, has felt a little too quiet lately. the idea of having a new friend nearby, someone to share the summer with, fills you with a kind of giddy hope you can’t quite explain. and then you see them—a boy, about your age, stepping out of the moving truck with his grandmother, his bright eyes scanning the neighborhood. he’s a little taller than you, with dark hair falling over his forehead, soft purple eyes, and the kind of quiet energy that makes you curious.

before you even know what’s happening, you’re crossing the yard, the dirt from the garden sticking to your hands as you reach the wooden fence separating your lawns. you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

"hi!" you call out, your voice unguarded and full of the raw excitement only a nine-year-old can feel. you quickly introduced him your name, followed by, " do you want to play?"

he turns, surprised at first, his gaze flickering to you as if he didn’t expect anyone to be watching. but then his lips curl into a shy smile, and something about it tugs at your chest, making your stomach flutter, but you did just eat something before running, that might’ve been it!

"uh, yeah. sure." his voice is soft, almost hesitant, but there’s something warm in his eyes. "i’m caleb."

you can’t help but giggle, because, well, caleb. it feels like one of those names you hear in movies, a little too cool for a kid like him. but his shyness only makes him more intriguing. as he steps closer, you notice something in the way he looks at you, the way his gaze lingers for a moment longer than it should. it’s not like he’s staring, but there’s this quiet sense of wonder in his eyes, like he’s trying to figure something out. you don’t know it yet, but it’s love, that quiet, unspoken thing that takes root long before he can even understand it.

"what do you want to do?" you ask, bouncing on your toes, ready to dive into whatever game you can think of, "i don’t know," he says, looking down at his feet, kicking a small rock. "what do you usually do?"

you shrug. "i don’t know either. i like to play hide-and-seek or tag or... whatever." you look over at him, hoping he’ll agree. and then you add, with a mischievous grin, "but i’m really good at it, so i’ll probably win."

he laughs softly, the sound light and carefree, and it makes something inside of you feel warm. there’s a moment of silence between you both, and then you realize: this, this feeling of meeting someone new, it’s more than just excitement. you feel like you’ve known him for longer, like he’s always been a part of you somehow.

"i’ll try my best," he says, his eyes twinkling with a challenge that you’ve never seen in him before, and you know, in that quiet, childlike way, this is the beginning of something that will stay with you forever.

a few days later, you’re outside again, running around in the yard with caleb. the sun is still high, the kind of warm you want to feel all day. you’re laughing, trying to steal the ball away from him, your bare feet kicking up the grass. 

you hear the door open, and out steps a little girl. she’s small, even smaller than you, with bright eyes that seem to take in everything at once. her pink dress is a little too big, and her hair’s in a messy ponytail that bounces as she walks. she looks kind of nervous but curious, like she’s trying to figure out the world.

caleb doesn’t notice her right away, but when he does, he grins and waves you over, “hey!” he calls out, his voice light. “this is my sister, mc.” you look at caleb, then over at mc. you blink, confused for a second. caleb has a sister? you didn’t know that. but then she’s standing right there, looking up at you, her little hands held awkwardly at her sides.

you give her your biggest smile, not sure what to say, but excited to meet her anyway. you hop over to the fence, and you tell her your name. then, “i like to play games, do you?” mc takes a second, then slowly smiles back, a bit shy. she looks up at caleb, then back at you. “i like to play,” she says, voice small but warm.

caleb is just watching the two of you, standing a little behind her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but his smile is soft. you notice it’s different when he’s with her—like he’s protective, maybe. like she’s something special, and maybe he’s figuring out how to be her brother.

“you wanna come play with us?” you ask, bouncing a little on your feet. “we’re playing soccer.” mc looks hesitant for a second but then nods. she steps forward, glancing at caleb, and then back at you, clearly unsure but willing to try.

you all spend the next few hours together, running around, laughing and falling down, making up new games and never worrying about anything except who could kick the ball the farthest. by the time the sun is starting to set, you’re sitting on the grass, covered in dirt and grass stains, but it’s the best feeling in the world.

later, you take them both inside to meet your parents. they’re surprised at first but warm, offering sandwiches and drinks and asking questions like they’ve known them forever. it feels right. they treat mc and caleb like they’re already part of the family, and you can see her relax, that little bit of worry fading from her face.

you’re already planning tomorrow’s adventure in your head, trying to figure out where to play next, but you’re pretty sure this is just the start of something special. you tell caleb and mc as much, your heart full, because this is it. this is your new normal. and somehow, it feels like they’ve always been a part of you.

it’s a little confusing at first. one day, caleb’s talking about starting school, just like you and mc, and then the next, he’s saying something about going somewhere else. somewhere called linkon academy? you don’t really get it, and neither does mc. you both just blink at him, like maybe he said it wrong.

"you’re going to a different school?" you ask, squinting at him like maybe that’ll make it make sense. caleb shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "grandma said it’s for... special kids. the really smart ones. it’s called linkon academy."

mc frowns, her little face scrunching up in that stubborn way she does when she doesn’t like something. "but we’re smart too," she says, crossing her arms. "why can’t we go?" you nod, agreeing with her, "yeah! we do math and stuff. i even know all the planets. why do you have to go somewhere else?"

caleb just shrugs again, looking at his shoes. "i don’t know. grandma just said it’s a good school. i don’t wanna go if you guys aren’t going."

the three of you sit on the front steps, picking at the little cracks in the concrete. it’s quiet for a while. you can tell caleb doesn’t like the idea of going either, but he’s not saying it. he’s too good at keeping his worries to himself, "it’s not fair," mc mumbles, kicking at a pebble. "we’re supposed to go to the same school."

you don’t really know what to say to make it better, so you just reach over and take caleb’s hand, squeezing it tight. mc notices and does the same on the other side. it’s kind of awkward, all of you holding hands like that, but it makes something settle in your chest. like even if things change, you’re still together.

"it’s okay," you say finally, trying to sound like it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. "we’ll still see each other after school, right?" caleb nods, but you can see his eyes are a little shiny, like he’s fighting not to cry. "yeah. i’ll come over every day. promise."

when school actually starts, it’s weird. you and mc walk to your school together, backpacks bouncing on your shoulders, while caleb goes the other way with their grandma. at first, it feels like someone cut the group in half, and neither of you really knows how to fill that space. but after a while, you and mc start getting used to it.

you sit together at lunch, share snacks, and walk home side by side sometimes. you make up stories about the other kids and giggle at the teacher’s funny way of talking. you don’t forget about caleb, of course not, but it’s like you and mc have your own little world now, too. it’s different, but not bad.

sometimes, when caleb comes home, he tells you stories about his school– how they have advanced math and how he’s learning chess even though it makes his head hurt. he tries to teach you both once, but you just end up using the pieces to build a tiny fort instead. he laughs, and you can tell he’s just happy to be back with you.

one day, mc looks at you when caleb’s not around and says, "i miss him." – "me too," you whisper back. but then you take her hand, just like that day on the steps, and say, "it’s okay. we’ll always be best friends. no matter what."

but you were kids, you felt like seeing your friend for less than 5 minutes was the end of it all. 

time feels weird when you’re a kid. those first few years of elementary school felt like they stretched on forever, and every time caleb walked a different way to his fancy school, it felt like a little piece of your group was missing. even though you saw him every morning and afternoon, something about being separated during the day made it feel like the world was just a little off.

but middle school changes everything.

you’re a little nervous that first day, trying to smooth out your shirt that suddenly feels too big and wondering if you’ll remember where all the classrooms are. mc’s right beside you, adjusting her backpack straps, while caleb is a few steps ahead, already looking like he belongs even though he’s just as new to this as you are.

you’re all at the same school now. caleb’s in the same grade as you, but they put him in the advanced classes. still, it doesn’t really matter. you’re just happy that for the first time in a while, you’re walking into the building together. it makes everything seem a little less scary.

mc’s talking a mile a minute about how the building smells different than elementary school and how she’s already seen a kid with braces, “he looked like a robot!”, and you’re just trying to take it all in. caleb’s quieter than usual, but you notice he keeps glancing back to make sure neither of you gets lost in the crowd.

you all find your lockers first, even though it takes a while since the numbers are weird and mc keeps mixing up which way the hall goes. caleb’s locker is a few rows away from yours and mc’s, but he makes sure to wait for you both before heading to homeroom.

when the bell rings for lunch, you and mc practically run to the courtyard, worried that caleb might have to sit somewhere else because of his schedule. but just as you’re about to panic, you spot him, waving you over to a spot under a tree. relief washes over you, and the three of you plop down in the grass like nothing’s changed.

“how’s your class?” you ask, unwrapping your sandwich.

caleb shrugs, biting into his apple. “okay. some of the kids know me from linkon. they keep asking if i’m gonna do the math club.” mc makes a face. “gross. who likes math that much?” you giggle, and caleb just shrugs again, his cheeks a little pink. “i guess they just do. but i’m not doing it. too much work.”

you all settle in, talking about your different classes and which teachers seem nice and which ones seem a little scary. mc’s excited because she already made a friend in her art class, and caleb nods along, asking questions even though you can tell he’s distracted. you get it, though. being back together like this—it feels right, but also new, like you’re still figuring out how to fit into this new version of your lives.

as the weeks go by, it starts to feel more normal. you, caleb, and mc walk to and from school together every day. caleb still gets pulled into higher-level classes sometimes, but he always meets you both at lunch. you still find your spot under the tree, and caleb always saves a seat even when mc gets sidetracked talking to her new friends.

one afternoon, when you’re all walking home, caleb slows down and glances over at you. “hey,” he says quietly, just loud enough for you to hear while mc is a few steps ahead. “i’m glad we’re at the same school again.”

you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours. “me too. it’s way better like this.”

he just nods, like he’s relieved to hear it, and falls back into step with you, catching up to mc when she waves at a cat crossing the road. it’s not perfect—sometimes you have to go different ways for class, and caleb’s homework seems twice as long as yours—but it’s better. it’s like the three of you are figuring out how to be a trio again, even if it looks a little different than it did before.

middle school feels different. not just because the classes are harder or because there’s suddenly way more homework. it’s like everyone’s changing, growing taller, getting louder, acting like they’re too cool for the things they used to love. you don’t really get it, and neither does mc. you still meet caleb  and mc every morning at your house so your parents can take the three of you to school, but even that feels different sometimes. like caleb’s distracted or caught up in something you can’t see.

he’s gotten... taller. way taller. when you stand next to him, your head barely reaches his shoulder now. he’s also way more involved—he joined the basketball team, he’s in some math club thing that you don’t understand, and even the teachers seem to like him because he’s always got his homework done early. it’s weird seeing him surrounded by people in the hallways, mostly girls from other classes who always seem to be giggling when he walks by.

you don’t really get it. it’s just caleb. the same kid who used to trip over his own feet and complain about spelling tests. but sometimes, when he’s laughing with his new friends, something tugs at your chest, and you don’t know why. you just know that when he sees you and mc waiting by his locker, his whole face lights up, and he waves you over, like nothing’s changed at all.

one afternoon, while you’re all walking home, mc’s chattering about how some girl in her class made a friendship bracelet and then cried when it broke. you’re only half-listening because caleb’s walking a little closer than usual, his shoulder brushing yours every few steps. it’s not a big deal, but it makes your face feel warm.

“hey,” he says suddenly, his voice quieter than usual, almost like he doesn’t want mc to hear. “you know that dance they’re having? next friday?”

you nod, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. “yeah. everyone’s talking about it.” caleb clears his throat, looking anywhere but at you. “are you... gonna go?” you shrug. “maybe. i don’t know. dances seem kinda weird.” he laughs, but it’s short, almost nervous. “yeah. totally. weird.”

there’s a pause, and you notice he’s gripping the strap of his backpack so tight his knuckles are white. you tilt your head, trying to figure out why he looks so serious all of a sudden. “are you going?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

he glances at you, then away. “i don’t know. some of the guys from the team are going. but... i wasn’t really planning on it. unless...” your heart skips a beat, and you’re not even sure why. “unless what?”

caleb looks at you for real this time, his cheeks a little pink. “unless you were going. i mean, we could... go together. if you want.” you feel your face heat up, and suddenly, it’s like the world’s too quiet, like even mc stopped talking just to listen. you’re not sure why it makes your stomach flip, but it does.

“like... together?” you echo, trying to make sense of it. caleb rubs the back of his neck, looking at the ground. “yeah. like, together. just... us.” you can’t help but smile a little, trying to hide it by looking at the ground. “okay. that sounds... fun.”

he relaxes, shoulders dropping, and his smile is so bright it makes your chest feel funny. “cool. it’s a date, then.” you don’t know why that word makes your heart race, but you don’t argue with it. mc finally pipes up, oblivious to the weird tension that just passed between you and caleb. “can i help pick out your dress?” she asks, already planning things in her head.

you laugh, grateful for the distraction. “sure.”

caleb keeps glancing at you on the rest of the walk home, his hand brushing yours once or twice. neither of you says anything about it, but something’s different. something good.

and for the first time, you’re kind of excited for a dance.

the house smells like hairspray and perfume. mc is fussing with your hair, trying to smooth it down while you’re looking in the mirror, twisting to see if the dress looks as nice as it did in the store. it’s a soft color, one mc picked out, and she’s wearing something similar—a little simpler, but just as pretty. she keeps telling you to stop fidgeting, but you can’t help it. your hands are a little shaky, and your heart keeps racing.

“you look really nice,” mc says, grinning. she’s got a few butterfly clips in her hair, and her dress is a soft shade of pink. “caleb’s gonna think so too.”

you roll your eyes, trying to act like that doesn’t make your stomach do a weird flip. “it’s just a dance.” she raises an eyebrow. “you’re acting like it’s more than just a dance.”

you open your mouth to argue, but there’s a knock on the door, and your dad calls from downstairs. “girls! caleb’s here!”

mc’s eyes go wide, and she grabs your hand, dragging you out of your room and down the stairs. your dad is already at the door, chatting with caleb like they’ve been friends forever. caleb’s standing there, dressed in a nice button-up shirt and dark pants. his hair’s been brushed back, but a few strands still fall into his eyes. he’s holding something small and wrapped in a little plastic box.

when he sees you, his mouth opens, and for a second, he just... stares. his cheeks turn pink, and he quickly looks at the ground, mumbling, “you look really pretty.”

your dad nudges him gently. “show her what you brought, son.” caleb swallows hard and steps forward, opening the box. inside is a little flower– a white carnation with a bit of greenery, tied with a pale ribbon. his hands shake a little as he pulls it out. “um... it’s a corsage,” he explains, stumbling over the word. “for your wrist. i saw it in a magazine and... i thought you might like it.”

you let him slip it onto your wrist, trying not to focus on how close his hands are to yours. it’s soft, and it smells nice, and you don’t think anyone’s ever given you something so pretty before.

“it’s perfect,” you whisper, smiling up at him. his face relaxes, and he mirrors your smile, like he was holding his breath until now. your dad claps his hands together. “alright! let’s get some pictures before you two head out.”

caleb shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t argue. mc’s already bouncing around, making sure you both stand in the right spots on the porch while your dad pulls out his old camera. caleb stands next to you, a little stiff at first, but then mc makes a silly face from behind your dad, and caleb laughs, his shoulders loosening up.

your dad takes a few shots—one of you both standing side by side, one with caleb a little closer, and one where he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know how he got this lucky. it makes your face go hot, and you’re glad when your dad finally lowers the camera and says, “alright, let’s get moving.”

you all pile into the car, with caleb in the back next to you, and mc up front with your dad. the drive to the school isn’t long, but it feels like forever. caleb’s knee keeps bumping yours, and every time it does, he mumbles an apology, even though you don’t mind.

your dad glances in the rearview mirror, eyes crinkling with a soft smile. “you two look great. have fun tonight, okay?” you both nod, and caleb gives a small, almost shy, “yes, sir.”

when you finally get to the school, the building is lit up with paper lanterns and balloons, and kids are already milling around the gym entrance. caleb hesitates for a second, then reaches out and lightly touches your hand. “ready?” he asks and you nod, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding. “yeah. let’s go.”

and with that, he leads you toward the doors, his fingers brushing against yours, and you can’t help but smile because, somehow, this feels just right.

the gym is buzzing with energy, kids everywhere, talking too loud and trying to look cooler than they are. there’s a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, reflecting little bits of light everywhere, and the speakers are playing some pop song that’s probably too grown-up for a middle school dance, but no one seems to care.

you glance around, trying to take it all in. mc is already running off to find some of her friends, promising to come back and check on you later. caleb sticks by your side, his hands shoved deep into his pockets like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

“it’s kinda loud,” he mumbles, looking a little overwhelmed.  you nod, feeling the same way. “yeah. and it smells weird.” he snorts, trying not to laugh too loud, “it does.”

just when it feels like you might actually relax, a group of boys from the basketball team spot caleb and come barreling over, practically tackling him in a swarm of loud greetings and slaps on the back. they’re talking about some game from last week, and caleb’s trying to keep up, looking a little caught off guard.

one of them, a tall kid named evan, grins at you. “hey, caleb! didn’t know you had a date.”

caleb’s face goes red, and he looks at you like he’s not sure what to say. you just smile politely, even though your stomach flips.

before caleb can say anything, another one of his friends nudges him. “c’mon, man, we’re gonna get some drinks and find the guys from the other team. you coming?” he says drinks with a cool undertone, even though the drink in question is a punch bowl containing kool aid tropical punch.

caleb hesitates, glancing at you. you just shrug, giving him a small smile. “it’s okay. go hang out. i’ll find mc or some of the girls from class.” he looks relieved, but still a little unsure. “are you... sure?” you nod, trying not to feel too disappointed. “yeah, it’s fine.”

he gives you a grateful smile before getting dragged off by his friends, and you watch him go, a weird tightness settling in your chest. you didn’t really think about the fact that he might have other people to hang out with. it shouldn’t bother you, but it does…just a little.

you wander around for a bit, finding some of your own friends who are gossiping in a corner about who’s dancing with who. one of them, kayla, gives you a knowing look. “i saw caleb with you earlier,” she teases. “you two look cute together.”

you feel your face heat up and just mumble something about how it’s not like that, but kayla just laughs and drags you closer to the group. for a while, you try to focus on what they’re talking about, but your eyes keep drifting around the room, wondering where caleb went.

then, out of nowhere, he’s there again, standing right in front of you, a little breathless. “hey,” he says, like he’s been looking for you.

“hey,” you reply, your heart thudding a little harder. he glances back over his shoulder, where his friends are still messing around near the punch table, then back at you. “do you... want to dance?”

you’re pretty sure your brain short-circuits for a second. “dance?”

“yeah. i mean... it’s a dance. we should... dance.” he’s stammering now, looking down at his shoes, and you realize he’s just as nervous as you are.

you nod, trying to keep your cool. “yeah. okay.”

he takes your hand, his palm a little sweaty but warm—and leads you out to the middle of the gym, where a slow song is starting to play. you’re not really sure where to put your hands, but he gently guides them to his shoulders, and his own hands hover awkwardly near your waist before settling there, barely touching. it’s clumsy and weird and makes your heart race like crazy.

you sway together, not really in time with the music, just moving in that nervous, uncertain way that middle schoolers do. you catch his eye a few times, and every time, he looks away, his ears turning red. but he’s smiling, soft and a little shy, and you can’t help but smile back.

after a minute, caleb clears his throat. “um... maybe... we could make a deal,” he says quietly, almost like he’s afraid of your answer.

“what kind of deal?” you ask, curious. he swallows, squeezing your hand just a little tighter. “we could go to every dance together. you know... so it’s not awkward. we’ll always have a... dance partner.”

your heart skips. it’s such a simple, silly idea, but it makes you feel warm. “okay,” you whisper. “it’s a deal.”

caleb’s smile gets a little wider, more confident. “cool.”

the song ends, and you both step back, hands dropping reluctantly. but even when the music changes to something fast, you just stand there, grinning at each other, like maybe you just figured out something important without really knowing how.

and you know—even if you don’t really understand why yet—that this is one of those moments you’ll remember for a long time.

middle school keeps rolling on, and things keep changing—faster than you expect. after that first dance, it’s like the whole school starts to see caleb differently. he’s not just the new kid anymore. he’s caleb—the guy on the basketball team who’s smart and athletic and pretty much good at everything. people start noticing him more, especially the girls. you hear them whispering about him in the hallways, giggling when he walks by.

you’d think it would make him different, but it doesn’t. he’s still caleb—the same guy who sneaks snacks into class and makes dumb jokes when you’re having a bad day. the only difference is that more people seem to know his name now.

it’s not just him, though. as the year goes on, you start noticing that people look at you differently too. you didn’t really plan on joining volleyball, but mc talked you into it, saying you should at least try. you ended up liking it way more than you thought. the practices are long, but you’re getting better—quicker on your feet, stronger with your serves.

you start to notice other things too—how your face seems a little softer, your hair shinier, your smile brighter. one of the older girls on the team says you’re “getting cuter every day,” and you don’t really know what to say except mumble a thank you and hope no one sees your blush.

the attention doesn’t go unnoticed. people start talking to you more—complimenting your hair, asking if you’re going to the next game. it’s weird at first, but mc just beams every time someone notices you, like she’s proud.

one afternoon, you’re leaving practice, your gym bag slung over your shoulder, when you spot caleb waiting by the gym doors. his basketball practice ended a while ago, but he’s still here, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand. he looks up when he sees you, his eyes widening just a bit.

“hey,” he greets, tucking his phone away. “how was practice?” – “good,” you reply, a little out of breath from drills. “coach made us run like, a hundred laps. i swear my legs are gonna fall off.”

he chuckles, but it’s softer than usual, his eyes not quite meeting yours. “you look... different.” you tilt your head. “different how?”

he rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the ground. “just... i don’t know. cuter. like... you look nice.”

your stomach flips, and you can feel your face getting warm. “oh. thanks.”

the walk home is a little quieter than usual, but it’s not uncomfortable. just... different. caleb keeps sneaking glances at you, and every time you catch him, he looks away, pretending he’s looking at the sky or a bird or something.

at school, you start noticing that other people are looking too. one day in the cafeteria, you’re carrying your lunch tray when one of the boys from the track team calls out, “hey, nice serve at the last game!” you give a quick nod, trying not to trip over your own feet, and when you sit down at your usual spot, caleb’s already there, frowning at the guy from across the room.

“you know him?” he asks, stabbing at his food with his fork, “not really,” you answer, a little confused. “just from gym.” caleb just grunts, not saying much after that, but he’s definitely quieter than usual. mc plops down next to you, oblivious to the weird tension, and starts talking about some science project, and you just focus on that instead.

later that week, you’re at your locker, gathering your books for class, when caleb leans against the one next to yours. he’s been doing that a lot lately—just showing up out of nowhere and sticking close, like he doesn’t really want to leave your side.

“are you... going to the next game?” he asks, trying to sound casual. you look at him, surprised. “your game?” – “yeah. or yours. either one.” you can’t help but laugh. “i always go to your games. and you always come to mine.” he just shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “just making sure.”

you catch that soft, almost unsure smile, and you realize it’s been happening more and more lately—him looking at you like he’s trying to figure something out. it makes you feel weirdly happy, but also nervous, like something big is about to happen and you’re not ready for it. you don’t say anything else, just bump his shoulder as you pass by, and he trails behind you like a shadow, still looking a little dazed.

high school isn’t as scary as it was at first. after a few months, you start to get used to the routine—the long hallways, the crowded cafeteria, and the way everyone seems to be figuring out who they want to be. it’s weird how fast things change.

mc’s still stuck in middle school, but that doesn’t stop her from showing up at your practices whenever she can, cheering way too loud from the bleachers. one day, when she’s supposed to be doing homework, she blurts out, “i have a boyfriend!”

you nearly drop your water bottle, and caleb, who’s sprawled on the living room floor with a textbook, sits up so fast he almost knocks his head on the coffee table. “you what?” he demands, eyes wide.

mc just grins, not at all phased by his reaction. “his name’s ryan. he’s in my math class. he asked me to the winter dance.” caleb’s face does this weird thing where he’s trying to look calm but failing miserably. “does grandma know?”

mc rolls her eyes. “of course. she said it was fine. it’s just a dance.” you snort, nudging caleb with your foot. “calm down, dad.”

he glares at you but doesn’t argue. you know he’s just being protective, but mc doesn’t look like she cares one bit. she’s too busy grinning and kicking her legs happily off the couch.

meanwhile, caleb’s life keeps shifting too. it’s like every day, more people know who he is. he’s not just the captain of the basketball team anymore—he’s the guy everyone seems to want to talk to, whether it’s about sports, math, or just to say hi in the hallways. it doesn’t bother you, not really, but it’s a little weird seeing girls you don’t know trying to get his attention.

one day after school, you’re in the courtyard waiting for him when he walks out, looking like he’s in a daze. when he spots you, he makes a beeline over, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

“you good?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, he shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. “uh... i just got asked out.”

you blink, trying to process that. “oh. by who?”

“jenny. from english.” he rubs the back of his neck, his ears turning pink. “we were project partners. she said she liked me and... asked if we could go to the movies sometime.”

you feel your stomach flip, but you force a smile. “and? what’d you say?” he hesitates. “i... said yes. i didn’t really know how to say no. she’s nice, and we’ve been working on that paper together for weeks. it felt... rude.”

you nod, trying to ignore the weird feeling creeping up your spine. “that’s... cool. good for you.” he doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it. instead, he changes the subject, talking about practice and how the coach is pushing them harder since the playoffs are coming up.

a few weeks later, you notice he’s been reading a lot more about the DAA. you find him one afternoon flipping through a brochure, his face focused and thoughtful.

“thinking of joining the DAA?” you tease, leaning over his shoulder.

he glances up, a little smile tugging at his lips. “maybe. there’s a program for pilots. coach mentioned it since they recruit athletes sometimes. it sounds... cool.” – “you’d make a good pilot,” you say, meaning it. “you’ve always been good at handling pressure.”

he shrugs, but you can tell he likes the idea. “it’d be something big. something important. flying ships, protecting people... it sounds like a good way to use all this,” he says, gesturing to himself like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his skills otherwise.

you just smile, watching him flip through the pages. you can already tell he’s hooked on the idea. it’s like something clicked into place for him, and he’s finally got a dream of his own. it makes you happy—even if a small, selfish part of you wonders what it would be like if he wasn’t always surrounded by people who wanted his attention.

and when jenny shows up at lunch the next day, smiling shyly at him and asking if he’s still good for the movies that weekend, you make yourself smile and wave. it’s just caleb being caleb—good at everything, good with everyone. you just didn’t realize it would feel this complicated.

jenny doesn’t last long. caleb goes to the movies with her, and when you ask him about it afterward, he just shrugs. “she’s nice,” he says, not meeting your eyes. “but... i don’t know. it just didn’t feel right. she talked a lot about stuff i didn’t really care about. and she didn’t get my jokes.”

you just nod, trying not to look too happy about it. “maybe it’s just one of those things. not everyone clicks.” he hums in agreement, and that’s the end of that. jenny still says hi to him in the hallways, but she doesn’t seem too heartbroken.

time moves faster after that. by the time sophomore year hits, caleb’s gotten even taller, and his shoulders are broader. he’s still on the basketball team, still captain, and people are starting to notice how much he’s filling out. you hear girls whisper about him in the hallways, wondering if he’s dating anyone. it’s a little weird hearing them talk like that, but you just brush it off.

one weekend, your dad offers to teach caleb how to drive. you’re sitting on the porch with mc, watching as caleb struggles to figure out how to work the clutch on your dad’s old truck. it stalls twice, and you can hear caleb cussing under his breath while your dad tries not to laugh. “think he’ll ever get it?” mc asks, leaning against your shoulder. you grin. “eventually. he’s just gotta stop freaking out every time the truck lurches.”

eventually, caleb gets the hang of it, and by the time he’s done with his lesson, he’s grinning like a little kid who just learned how to ride a bike. he jogs up to the porch, a little sweaty and proud of himself.

“i didn’t crash,” he announces, like it’s the best accomplishment of his life.

you laugh. “congrats. you officially didn’t die.”

your dad just shakes his head fondly, patting caleb on the shoulder. “you’ll get better with practice. just gotta ease up on the clutch.”

after that, it becomes kind of routine. caleb practicing driving with your dad while you and mc hang out on the porch, doing homework or just talking about school. sometimes you all end up inside, spreading out at the dining room table with textbooks and notebooks. caleb’s good at math, so he helps you when the equations start looking like a different language, and you help mc with her english homework, making sure she actually finishes her reading instead of just skimming it.

you start noticing that the conversations feel different now. it’s not just about classes or practice anymore. sometimes caleb talks about the future, about how he’s still looking into the DAA programs and how they’re taking applications soon for summer camps for prospective pilots. you encourage him, even though the thought of him flying far away someday makes your stomach twist a little.

one night, after everyone’s gone home and it’s just you and caleb on the porch, he leans back against the steps and looks up at the sky, “sometimes i think about how fast everything’s moving,” he admits, his voice quiet. “feels like just yesterday we were running around the yard with mc, playing tag.”

you nod, resting your chin on your knees. “yeah. now she’s got a boyfriend, and you’re driving, and everyone’s talking about what they want to do after school. it’s kinda scary.” he glances over at you, his eyes soft. “you know... even if things change, we’ll still be us, right?” you look at him, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

he shrugs, looking down at his hands. “just... sometimes i worry. that we’re growing up too fast. like... what if things aren’t the same later?”

you nudge his shoulder gently. “they’ll be the same if we make them the same. you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.” that makes him smile, the kind that reaches his eyes. “good. wouldn’t want to.”

there’s a comfortable silence after that, and you can’t help but think that maybe growing up doesn’t have to mean growing apart. maybe it just means figuring out how to stay close, even when things get harder.

and when caleb glances at you again, his gaze lingering a little too long to be just friendly, you wonder if maybe you’re both figuring out the same thing—how to hold onto each other even as the world keeps changing.

after that first awkward driving lesson with your dad, things start to fall into place. caleb keeps practicing, getting more comfortable behind the wheel, and before long, he’s driving around town with you and mc in the truck, laughing at every bump and gear shift. it becomes routine—caleb behind the wheel, you in the passenger seat, mc in the back, like you’re your own little team.

it doesn’t take long for your parents and their grandma to realize that he’s the one who’ll be doing most of the driving when school starts back up again. so, one night after dinner, your dad pulls out an envelope and hands it to caleb, looking more serious than usual.

“it’s from me, your grandma, and the neighbors,” he says. “figured you’d need something a little more reliable than the old truck. we pooled together for something safe since you’re gonna be driving these two around.”

caleb’s eyes go wide, hands shaking a little as he pulls out a set of keys. “wait... you got me a car?”

your dad grins. “it’s not new, but it’s in good shape. thought you’d like to take a look.”

you, mc, and caleb all pile out onto the driveway, where a dark blue sedan is parked, shiny and clean. caleb walks around it like he’s in a dream, barely able to believe it’s real.

“this is... this is mine?” he asks, still looking a little shell-shocked.

your dad claps him on the shoulder. “yep. just make sure you keep it clean, and no speeding. remember, it’s not just your life you’re responsible for—it’s theirs too.”

caleb swallows hard, nodding. “i promise. thank you.”

you and mc pile in, immediately claiming seats and testing the windows, while caleb just sits in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel like he’s afraid to touch anything. you can’t help but smile, seeing how careful he’s being, like he might break it just by breathing too hard.

after that, it’s like the car becomes your second home. caleb drives you everywhere—to practice, to study sessions, even to pick up groceries when your mom’s too tired to go. he never complains, just slides behind the wheel and waits for you to buckle up, always reminding mc to wear her seatbelt even though she grumbles about it.

the holidays come and go, and the three of you spend more time together than ever. Caleb and mc’s grandma insists on hosting thanksgiving, so you and your family pile into the car and drive over (even though you’re like a couple houses away), caleb behind the wheel and mc talking about how she’s going to eat three slices of pie. christmas is spent at your house, with caleb showing off the scarf mc knitted him—even if it’s a little lopsided and full of dropped stitches.

by the time spring rolls around, caleb’s gotten used to the car, even if he still washes it religiously every weekend. he never forgets to pick you up, even on days when practice runs late or you’re too tired to text him back. it’s like second nature—caleb waiting out front, his music playing softly through the speakers, the three of you falling into place like you were always meant to be this way.

and then, finally, mc joins you at high school. it’s weird at first, seeing her in the hallways with her own friends, but she still meets you both at lunch, and caleb always makes sure she’s got a ride home. she’s grown up a little over the summer, taller and more confident, and she doesn’t cling to you as much as she used to. but she’s still the same mc—still eager to tell you about her day, still rolling her eyes when caleb makes dad jokes.

you notice how caleb’s popularity has only grown—people wave at him in the hallways, call out his name between classes, and he always waves back, even if he doesn’t know them. he’s still the basketball captain, and he’s starting to really look like an athlete—tall, lean, his hair a little longer and constantly messy from practice.

it’s almost like things have settled into a rhythm—school, practice, hanging out at your place or his, planning out summer trips. caleb’s still talking about the DAA, researching how to apply and what training he’d need. you keep encouraging him, even though the thought of him flying off somewhere far away someday makes your chest feel tight.

one evening, after a long study session in your living room, caleb falls asleep on the couch, his textbook open on his lap. mc’s already curled up in the armchair, dozing off too, and you just sit there for a moment, looking at them both. it feels... right. comfortable. like you’re all exactly where you’re supposed to be.

you drape a blanket over caleb, and just as you’re about to head to bed, he stirs, eyes half-open. “you okay?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “yeah,” you whisper back. “just... thinking.” he nods, not really awake, but his hand reaches out, gently catching yours. you stand there for a moment, his fingers warm and familiar around yours, and then he falls back asleep, still holding on.

you know you should pull away, but you don’t. you just sit there next to him, his hand in yours, the room quiet except for the soft sound of mc snoring, and you can’t help but hope that moments like this never change.

it’s late, and the house is quiet. mc went to bed hours ago, and your parents are probably asleep by now too. you and caleb sit on the porch steps, shoulders brushing as you look up at the stars. it’s cool out, and you can see your breath when you talk, little puffs of white against the dark.

caleb’s got his knees pulled up, arms draped over them, and his eyes are fixed on the sky. you don’t know why, but tonight feels different—calm but heavy, like there’s something he’s not saying. you nudge him gently with your elbow. “what’s on your mind?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just tips his head back a little more, like he’s trying to get a better look at the sky. “sometimes i wonder what it’s like up there,” he says quietly. “being that far away from everything. floating... where no one can reach you.”

you glance at him, taking in the thoughtful look on his face. “sounds lonely.” he shakes his head. “no. i don’t think it would be. i think it’d feel... peaceful. like nothing else matters. just you and the stars.”

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. “you really wanna do it, don’t you? fly for the DAA?”

he nods, finally looking at you. “yeah. it’s like... the only thing that makes sense. i don’t know why, but... i just feel like i’m supposed to be up there.” you give him a small smile. “you’ll get there. i know you will.”

he smiles back, softer this time, but there’s still something in his eyes that looks uncertain. “when i’m up there... you’ll be watching me, right?”

you don’t even hesitate. “of course. i’ll be there for everything. you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

something changes in his expression, like relief, mixed with something warmer, softer. he doesn’t say anything for a while, just looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your face. the porch light casts a glow over both of you, and the night feels quieter than usual.

“good,” he murmurs. “i want you to be there.”

you’re about to ask him why he looks so serious when he moves just a little closer, his hand brushing against yours. you don’t pull away. his gaze drops to your mouth, and you swear your heart stops for a second.

before you can think too hard about it, he leans in and kisses you. it’s soft, like he’s afraid to push too far. his lips are warm, and his hand finds yours, fingers lacing together. it’s just a moment—a breath, really—but it feels like time stopped around you.

when he pulls back, his face is flushed, and he immediately drops his eyes, letting go of your hand. “sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “i didn’t... i shouldn’t have...”

you reach out and grab his hand again before he can pull away completely. “caleb,” you say softly, making him look at you. “it’s okay. i wasn’t uncomfortable.”

his shoulders relax a little, and he looks at you like he’s trying to figure out if you mean it. “really?”

you nod, squeezing his hand. “really.”

he lets out a breath he must’ve been holding and finally smiles, a little crooked, a little shy. “okay. good. because... i kind of wanted to do that for a while.”

you laugh softly, your own cheeks warm. “me too.”

you don’t say much after that, just sit there with his hand in yours, staring up at the stars like they’re giving you some kind of answer you didn’t know you were looking for. and even though nothing’s really changed, it feels like everything has—like the space between you just got a little smaller, and you’re not sure you want it to go back to how it was.

you just sit there, fingers intertwined, and watch the stars until the air gets too cold, and you know it’s time to go inside. but even when you’re both heading to your rooms, you still feel the tingle of his kiss on your lips and the way his hand fit perfectly in yours.

after that night on the porch, something changes. it’s not obvious at first—just little things. caleb standing a little closer when you’re talking, brushing his hand against yours when you’re walking home. he doesn’t say anything about the kiss, but he doesn’t avoid you either. in fact, it’s almost like he’s more comfortable now, like he’s finally settled into the space between you.

mc notices it first, of course. she teases you both constantly, rolling her eyes every time caleb reaches for your hand or leans his shoulder against yours when you’re sitting on the couch. one night, when caleb’s out running errands with your dad, she smirks and says, “you know he’s in love with you, right?”

you feel your face heat up immediately. “he is not.”

mc just shrugs, grinning. “sure. that’s why he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. even grandma noticed.”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you just shove a pillow at her, pretending not to hear. but deep down, you can’t help but think that maybe she’s right.

a few days later, you’re in the kitchen helping your mom with dinner when caleb walks in with your dad, both of them covered in dust from fixing the shed roof. your dad’s laughing about something caleb said, clapping him on the shoulder, and caleb’s trying to brush dirt off his jeans without making a bigger mess.

your mom just shakes her head, passing them both some lemonade. “you boys are a mess,” she teases. caleb grins, but his gaze flicks to you, softening. “sorry for tracking dirt in,” he mumbles, but your mom just waves it off.

“don’t worry about it. you helped fix the shed—i’ll take a little dirt over that roof leaking.”

as they talk, you notice caleb glance at your dad, then back at you, like he’s weighing something in his head. finally, he clears his throat. “can i talk to you for a sec?” he asks your dad, his tone a little more serious.

your dad raises an eyebrow, but he nods. “sure. what’s up?”

they step outside to the porch, and you feel a weird sense of panic rise in your chest. your mom notices, patting your shoulder gently. “don’t worry,” she whispers. “it’s probably nothing.”

a few minutes later, they come back in. your dad’s grinning, and caleb looks a little flushed, but he’s smiling too. your dad ruffles caleb’s hair like he’s still a kid. “you’re alright, son,” he says warmly. “just treat her right.”

caleb nods earnestly. “i will.” your mom just looks amused, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “i think that boy just asked for permission to take you out.”

your face burns, and you barely manage to look at caleb as he walks over, rubbing his hands together nervously. “uh... can we talk?”

you nod, letting him pull you outside, where the air feels a little cooler, crisper. he takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing for a big game. “i... talked to your dad,” he starts, not quite meeting your eyes. “i just... i wanted to make sure he was okay with it before i asked you.”

your heart pounds in your chest. “asked me what?” caleb looks at you, his eyes steady and serious. “if you’d go out with me. like... on a real date.”

you stare at him for a second, trying to process the words. “a date?” he nods, his face a little pink. “yeah. i mean, i know we hang out all the time anyway, but... i want to do it right. take you out, just us. because... i really like you. and i want to... do this the right way.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, relief and excitement mixing together. “you didn’t have to ask my dad, you know.” he shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “yeah, but... it felt right. like... i wanted to make sure he knew i wasn’t just messing around.”

you can’t help but laugh, stepping closer and grabbing his hand. “you’re kind of a dork, you know that?” he grins, finally relaxing. “yeah. but you like me anyway.” you roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it. “okay. yes. i’ll go out with you.”

caleb’s whole face lights up, and he pulls you into a hug, holding you tight like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind. you just laugh against his shoulder, feeling that familiar warmth settle in your chest. it’s not just relief—it’s happiness, pure and simple.

when he pulls back, his hands linger on your waist, and he looks at you like he’s still trying to believe this is real. “so... friday night?” he asks, a little breathless. “there’s this diner i’ve been wanting to take you to.”

you nod, still grinning. “sounds perfect.”

he leans down and presses a soft, quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back, clearly trying not to look too eager. but you can see it in his eyes—that quiet, steady affection that’s been there all along.

and when you head back inside, hands still entwined, your parents just smile knowingly, like they’ve been waiting for this just as long as you have.

senior year came faster than you expected. one minute you’re trying to figure out your class schedule, and the next, it’s almost summer. you and caleb have been dating for a while now—long enough that it feels normal to hold his hand in the hallways or sit with him at lunch, even if people still whisper sometimes.

he’s still on the basketball team, still the captain, and you’ve made it through another volleyball season. life is good—busy, but good. but then the acceptance letter from the DAA comes, and suddenly, everything feels a little more real.

caleb gets in. of course he does. they want him to join their summer program, which means he’ll be gone for three months. he’s over the moon about it—excited and nervous and already packing weeks before he has to leave. you’re happy for him, really, but there’s this knot in your stomach that doesn’t go away.

the day before he leaves, he’s at your house, sprawled out on your bed, flipping through the welcome packet they sent. mc’s in the living room, packing her bag for the family vacation. your parents decided to take you, mc, and josephine to the coast for a few weeks—a little getaway before the school year kicks back up again.

“they’re gonna make us take a fitness test on the first day,” caleb says, flipping a page. “bet half of them are gonna pass out in the heat.”

you smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. “you’ll be fine. you’re like... the fittest person i know.”

he snorts. “i don’t know. some of these guys are already doing flight training. i’m just... playing catch-up.”

you brush his hair out of his face, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “you’ll do great. they’re lucky to have you.”

he turns his head, and for a second, his expression softens. “you think so?”

you nod. “yeah. you’re gonna be amazing.”

he doesn’t say anything, just pulls you closer until you’re tucked under his arm, his face buried in your hair. “i’m gonna miss you,” he mumbles.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “me too. but it’s just one summer. and when you come back, we’ll have senior year.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue. instead, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through some of the emails from the DAA. you can’t help but notice the way his hand tightens around yours, like he’s afraid to let go.

later that night, your family is bustling around, making sure everyone’s bags are packed. josephine is lecturing mc about not forgetting sunscreen, and your dad is triple-checking the car’s tire pressure. caleb lingers by the porch, watching you move around the house like he’s trying to memorize every detail.

when it’s finally time for him to leave, he walks you out to his car. the sun’s low in the sky, casting long shadows across the driveway.

“i’ll text you when i get there,” he promises, squeezing your hand. “and... i’ll try to call when i can.” you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. he looks at you, and there’s this sad, crooked smile on his face. “it’s just a few months,” he says, more to himself than to you.

before you can think too hard about it, you reach up and kiss him—slow and soft, like you’re trying to make it last. when you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, and he just breathes you in.

“be safe, okay?” you whisper, “always,” he replies, kissing you one more time before finally forcing himself to step back.

you watch him drive away, the knot in your stomach tightening, and when you go back inside, mc is waiting with that look on her face—the one that says she’s trying to be comforting without being obvious.

the next morning, you’re all packed into the car, with josephine already telling stories about her own high school days as your dad navigates the highway. the coast isn’t too far, but it feels like hours. mc keeps showing you pictures of the cabin you’ll be staying in—rustic but cute, with a view of the beach.

you lean against the car window, your phone clutched in your hand, waiting for caleb’s text. when it finally comes, it’s short but enough to make you smile: 

caleb: made it safe. wish you were here. you: miss you already. have fun.

the rest of the drive feels a little lighter after that. once you get to the cabin, it’s chaos—unpacking, arguing over who gets which room, and josephine trying to convince mc to help her make sandwiches for everyone. the beach stretches out just beyond the cabin, and you can hear the waves crashing even from inside.

as the sun sets that night, you and mc sit on the porch, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. it’s beautiful, and you almost forget that caleb’s not there with you. mc nudges your shoulder. “he’ll be fine,” she says confidently, “it’s caleb.”

you nod, smiling despite yourself. “yeah. it’s just... weird. not having him here.”

she grins, pulling out her phone to snap a picture of the sunset. “well, when he gets back, you’ll have all these stories to tell. just think of it that way.” you lean back against the porch railing, letting the cool breeze hit your face. maybe she’s right—maybe it’s just one summer. but still, you can’t help but wonder if caleb’s looking at the sky right now too, thinking about you.

senior year arrives, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been waiting forever for it. summer flew by without caleb—just phone calls and texts when he could find the time, updates on his training and how much he missed home. you didn’t really know what to expect when he finally came back, but when he steps out of his car on the first day of school, you nearly forget how to breathe.

he’s... different. taller, definitely, and his shoulders are broader. his arms look stronger, more defined, and his hair’s a little shorter, but it suits him. he’s wearing his usual easy smile, but there’s a confidence there that wasn’t quite as sure before. when he sees you waiting at the school gate, he grins like he’s just spotted something he’s been looking for.

you barely have time to react before he sweeps you into a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you once before setting you back down. “hey,” he breathes, looking down at you with that familiar softness. “missed you.”

you laugh, swatting at his chest. “you didn’t tell me you’d turn into a superhero while you were gone.” he just shrugs, smirking. “training. gotta stay in shape.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but notice how much more solid he feels, like he’s really grown into himself. “you look... good,” you admit, a little embarrassed. he brushes his thumb over your cheek, not even bothering to hide his smile. “so do you.”

the year kicks off, and it’s different from the others. there’s a feeling of finality, like everyone’s already thinking about the future, but it’s also more relaxed. fewer classes, more free periods, more time to just be together. you and caleb spend your evenings studying for college applications, going on dates, and helping mc with her sophomore homework when she gets overwhelmed.

you visit a few college campuses, some nearby and some a little further out, and caleb talks about how he’s still thinking about the DAA but wants to keep his options open. every time you bring up the future, his expression gets a little more serious, but he never lets go of your hand, like he’s grounding himself with you.

and then prom season rolls around. you didn’t really think much about it at first, but mc’s been planning your outfit since winter break. she practically forces you into a dress the week before, making sure it’s perfect. caleb, of course, tries to play it cool, but you know he’s just as excited.

the night of prom, he shows up at your house with a corsage that matches your dress and a suit that makes him look like he stepped out of a movie. your parents insist on taking pictures, and caleb’s hands are warm on your waist as he pulls you close, both of you smiling too big to look cool.

the gym is transformed—streamers and twinkling lights everywhere, and a DJ blasting songs that everyone knows by heart. caleb keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulder as you navigate the crowd. he’s saying hi to everyone, accepting compliments and teasing from his teammates, but his attention never strays far from you.

it’s not a surprise when they announce caleb as prom king. the whole room erupts in cheers, and he just looks a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck as they hand him a plastic crown. but when they call out the prom queen’s name—jessica, one of the cheer captains—you see caleb’s smile falter just a little.

the tradition is for the prom king and queen to dance together, and the DJ starts queuing up a slow song. jessica steps forward, clearly thrilled, but caleb just shakes his head, already walking off the stage. he makes his way through the crowd, weaving between people, and you feel a weird pang in your chest, like maybe he’s just going to go along with it.

but then he’s right there, standing in front of you, holding out his hand.

“hey,” he says, like he didn’t just break some unspoken rule. “can i have this dance?”

you blink, trying to process it. “but... aren’t you supposed to dance with her?”

he shrugs, not looking the least bit bothered. “maybe. but i have my own tradition. i promised you, remember?”

your heart thuds against your ribs as you take his hand, letting him pull you to the center of the room. he’s still wearing that ridiculous plastic crown, but you can’t help but laugh when he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

the song is slow, something soft and familiar, and caleb’s hands are gentle on your waist as you sway together. you feel the weight of the moment, like everything in your lives has led to this one dance.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you murmur. “everyone’s staring.” he just smiles, unfazed. “don’t care. i made a promise. every dance, remember?” you can’t help but smile back, tightening your hold on him. “yeah. every dance.”

as the song continues, you’re barely aware of the other people around you. it’s just caleb, his eyes locked on yours, like he’s trying to tell you something without saying a word. when the song ends, the room bursts into applause, and you finally notice that people aren’t upset—they’re cheering for you both.

jessica looks a little put out, but even she doesn’t seem mad, just resigned, like she knew caleb would pick you. he doesn’t notice her sulking, just pulls you closer, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your forehead.

“thanks for being my tradition,” he whispers. you laugh, resting your head on his chest. “thanks for keeping it.”

and as the night goes on, you can’t help but think that maybe this is the happiest you’ve ever been. it’s just you and caleb, dancing to a song you’ve already forgotten, but it doesn’t matter—because he’s the one who chose you, every time.

graduation day feels surreal. the gym is packed with parents, siblings, teachers, and everyone you’ve grown up with. the rows of seats are filled with restless energy—people adjusting their caps, whispering about plans for the summer, and trying not to think too hard about how this is the end of high school.

you’re in your cap and gown, sitting next to mc, who’s pouting like it’s her job. “i still don’t get why i couldn’t graduate with you guys,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

you laugh, nudging her shoulder. “because you’re a sophomore, genius.”

she sticks her tongue out at you but doesn’t push it. you know she’s just upset that you’re both leaving soon. it’s hard to believe that after today, things are going to change for good. you’re both going to skyhaven—caleb for the DAA college program to become a pilot, and you for business and management. it’s comforting to know you’ll be in the same city, but the idea of not seeing him every day still makes your chest ache.

when the principal steps up to the microphone and announces caleb as the valedictorian, the whole gym erupts in cheers. he’s been working on his speech for weeks, but you can tell he’s still nervous as he steps up to the podium, adjusting the microphone. his cap’s a little crooked, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

he clears his throat, glancing at the crowd, and for a second, you swear he’s looking just at you. “uh, hey,” he starts, his voice a little rough. “um... first off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who’s helped us get here. parents, teachers, friends... you guys made this possible.”

he pauses, shifting his weight, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady. “it’s weird to think that this is it—the end of high school. i remember being that nervous freshman who didn’t know how to find his own locker. now we’re here, about to head off in a million different directions. it’s exciting, but also kind of terrifying.” a few people chuckle, and he relaxes a little, his hands gripping the sides of the podium. “for me, it’s always been about finding where i belong. basketball was a big part of that, but it’s not just about the team or the wins. it’s about the people—the friends who stuck by me, the ones who reminded me that it’s okay to be unsure sometimes.”

his gaze finds yours again, and you feel your heart skip. “there’s one person in particular who... well, who’s always been there. even when i wasn’t sure who i was. she kept me grounded. believed in me when i wasn’t sure i could do it. and... she’s more than just my best friend. she’s the person i want by my side, no matter where we go next.”

you’re pretty sure your face is on fire, and mc’s giving you that look—the one that says, “i told you so.” caleb clears his throat again, his cheeks a little red. “so... thank you. to everyone. but especially to her. i wouldn’t be standing here without you.”

there’s a murmur of curiosity in the crowd, but caleb doesn’t explain further. he just looks at you one more time, like he’s making sure you heard him.

the rest of his speech is more general—encouraging everyone to chase their dreams, to make mistakes, and to never forget where they came from. when he finishes, the applause is loud enough to shake the room, and he ducks his head a little as he walks back to his seat.

when he sits down next to you, you don’t say anything at first. you just reach over and grab his hand, squeezing tight. he looks at you, a little nervous, but when you smile, he relaxes, lacing his fingers with yours.

as names are called and diplomas are handed out, you try to hold onto this feeling—the pride, the excitement, and the relief that, even as things change, some things will stay the same.

after the ceremony, mc practically tackles caleb in a hug, grumbling about how dumb it is that he’s leaving. he just laughs, ruffling her hair, and promises that he’ll visit as often as he can.

your parents snap a million pictures—one of you and caleb in your caps, one of caleb holding mc on his back, and one of you two leaning against the school sign, his arm around your waist.

as the sun starts to set, caleb pulls you aside, away from the crowd. his hands find yours, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“you know i meant it, right?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “about wanting you with me. no matter what.” you smile, reaching up to straighten his cap. “i know. and i’ll be right there. every step.” he looks relieved, like he needed to hear you say it. “good. because i’m not going anywhere without you.”

you pull him into a hug, resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. in that moment, with the sun dipping below the horizon and the world full of possibilities, you know that no matter where life takes you both, you’ll always find your way back to each other.

the house is packed with holiday chaos—warm lights, the smell of cinnamon, and way too many people squeezed into the living room. your parents are bustling around, setting up the table, while josephine is in the kitchen, expertly directing traffic like it’s a military operation. she’s wearing one of those old-fashioned holiday aprons, her silver hair pulled back, and she keeps telling everyone to stay out of the kitchen unless they’re helping.

mc and her boyfriend zayne are huddled near the fireplace, mc talking a mile a minute while zayne just nods along, a little overwhelmed but clearly happy to be there. caleb’s next to you, looking a little jittery, his hands stuffed in his pockets. every so often, he glances at josephine, who just gives him a knowing look and a wink. you have no idea what’s going on, but it makes your stomach flip.

finally, dinner’s over, and josephine insists that everyone gather in the living room to open a few presents. she pulls mc onto the couch next to her and practically pushes zayne into the armchair. your parents are still cleaning up, but they’re listening from the dining room, and josephine keeps calling for caleb to get his butt back in here.

caleb takes a deep breath, grabs your hand, and tugs you into the room, leading you to the spot right next to the tree. the glow of the lights makes the whole room feel cozier, and you catch mc giving you a suspicious look like she knows something you don’t.

just as you’re about to sit down, caleb stops you, still holding your hand. he takes a deep breath, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “hey,” he starts, his voice quieter than usual. “i’ve been thinking about how much things have changed since we were kids. and how, no matter what, you’ve always been there. my best friend. my... everything.”

your heart’s racing, and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. caleb swallows hard, glancing at josephine again. she just gives him a tiny nod, smiling knowingly. finally, he pulls something out of his pocket—a small velvet box.

“i know it’s just the beginning for us,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “but... i don’t want to wait anymore. i want you with me for everything. forever.”

he drops to one knee, opening the box to reveal a simple, beautiful ring—just the kind you would have picked out yourself. “will you marry me?”

you barely manage to say yes before he’s up again, sweeping you into his arms while everyone bursts into cheers. mc practically launches herself at you both, squealing and almost knocking caleb off balance. zayne’s clapping and grinning, and your parents are already snapping pictures.

josephine wipes at her eyes, muttering something about how “my boy’s finally grown up,” but there’s pride in her smile. she gives caleb a thumbs-up, clearly approving of his choice.

when caleb finally pulls back to slide the ring onto your finger, his hands are shaking, but his smile is so bright it makes your chest ache. he presses a kiss to your forehead, and the whole room feels like it’s wrapped in warmth and love.

josephine pats mc’s shoulder, beaming. “i knew he’d do it right,” she whispers proudly.

caleb just leans his forehead against yours, still holding your hand like he never wants to let go. “best christmas ever,” he murmurs.

you laugh softly, wiping at the tears you didn’t even realize were there. “and just the beginning.”

mc’s already making plans for the wedding, and zayne’s trying to calm her down, but josephine just shakes her head, chuckling. “let them dream,” she says, squeezing your hand when you sit down beside her. “i knew from the start you’d be part of this family.”

you lean into caleb’s side, fingers still tangled together, and he just smiles, resting his head on yours. and even with the noise and chaos of the holiday, it’s perfect—just you and him, and the promise of forever.

the years at skyhaven fly by faster than you expect. balancing classes, work, and caleb’s DAA training isn’t always easy, but somehow, you both make it work. late-night study sessions turn into lazy mornings, and every time caleb gets leave from training, he spends it wrapped up in you, catching up on everything he’s missed.

graduation season comes around again, but this time it’s different—caleb’s graduating from the DAA pilot program, and you’re about to finish your degree in business and management with honors. the pride you feel for him is overwhelming, especially when he tells you that he’s been chosen as the valedictorian—again. you tease him about being an overachiever, but he just grins, kissing your forehead and telling you it’s all worth it.

the ceremony is held on the skyhaven campus, where the DAA graduates are lined up in their crisp uniforms. you sit near the front, next to josephine, who’s beaming proudly, and mc, who’s wearing a dress she reluctantly agreed to put on. gideon, one of caleb’s friends from the program, sits nearby, giving you a thumbs-up when you spot him.

when caleb’s name is called, the whole room erupts in applause. he walks up to the podium, standing tall and confident in his uniform. he looks over the crowd, his eyes landing on you, and his smile softens. “it’s crazy to think how far we’ve come,” he starts, his voice carrying easily. “most of us showed up here not knowing what we were getting into. we’ve been pushed to our limits—physically, mentally, and emotionally. but we didn’t just make it through… we excelled. and we didn’t do it alone.”

he pauses, glancing at his classmates, then back at you. “personally, i couldn’t have gotten here without the people who’ve always believed in me. my family, my friends... and one person in particular, who’s been by my side through every crazy step, my fiance…-”

your heart swells as he mentions you by status,

“-she’s the one who kept me grounded when things got tough, and she never let me forget why I wanted this in the first place. so... thank you.”

josephine squeezes your hand, sniffling happily, and you feel your own tears well up. caleb finishes his speech with some advice about perseverance and teamwork, and when he steps down, gideon gives him a hard clap on the back, muttering something you can’t hear. caleb just laughs, shaking his head, but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd.

after the ceremony, you rush to find him, and he picks you up in a hug, spinning you around just like the first day of senior year. “you did amazing,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. “you’re amazing,” he counters, kissing you softly. “couldn’t have done it without you.”

you both graduate within weeks of each other—caleb from the DAA program and you with honors from business school. it’s a whirlwind, but you’re more proud of each other than ever. landing a great job right out of school feels like a blessing, and you celebrate with dinner at your favorite little diner, reminiscing about that chaotic first date.

one night, caleb comes home looking more excited than you’ve seen in a while. “got my first assignment,” he says, pulling you into his lap as soon as you sit down. “and... they gave me a sign-on bonus.”

you raise an eyebrow, curious. “what are you planning to do with it?”

he grins, brushing his nose against yours. “fund the wedding. figured we should make it something special.” you feel your heart swell, “you’re serious?”

“of course,” he says, looking at you like you’re the best decision he’s ever made. “i want it to be perfect. for us.”

and so the planning begins. you pick out venues together, pour over guest lists, and spend weekends meeting with caterers and florists. caleb insists on making it something intimate but meaningful, with just close friends and family. gideon becomes his best man without question, and he dives into his duties with enthusiasm, already planning the bachelor party with a little too much energy.

one afternoon, as you’re sorting through color schemes and flower arrangements, caleb leans back on the couch, watching you with a fond smile. “you know,” he says softly, “i always knew it’d be you. since we were kids.” you look up, surprised. “really?”

he shrugs, not embarrassed at all. “yeah. even when we were just friends, something about you made everything feel right. like... if you were there, i could do anything.”

you move closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “i always felt that way too. like you made everything feel possible.”

he presses a kiss to your temple, his hand finding yours. “good. because this… us? it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

you spend the rest of the night curled up together, talking about the future—how you’ll decorate your first place, what you’ll name your first dog, how many kids you might have someday. it’s easy, the way you plan your lives together, because it’s always felt like you were meant to build a future side by side.

as the wedding date gets closer, it hits you just how far you’ve come. from those first nervous hand-holds and school dances to college stresses and career plans, you’ve grown together, made each other better. and now, with a life ahead of you both, you can’t help but feel overwhelmingly lucky.

and through it all, caleb never lets go of your hand—like he’s always known that no matter where life takes you, you’ll be walking that path together.

the day feels surreal—like a dream you’ve been planning for so long that you almost can’t believe it’s finally here. the venue is decorated with soft, warm lights strung through the trees, flowers lining the aisle, and chairs set up in neat rows. your family and friends fill the space, the hum of laughter and conversation mingling with the soft music playing from the speakers.

you’re in the back room with mc, who’s been fluttering around you like a nervous hummingbird, making sure every detail is perfect. she’s your maid of honor, and even though she’s tried to play it cool, you can tell she’s just as emotional as you are.

“stop fidgeting,” she says, fixing your veil for the third time. “you look beautiful. perfect, even.” you smile at her in the mirror, trying to keep your hands from trembling. “i’m just... nervous.” mc snorts, but her eyes are shining. “please. you’ve been waiting for this since high school. you’ve got this.”

your mom slips into the room, eyes a little misty as she takes in how you look. “it’s time,” she says softly, giving you a quick, proud hug. “he’s already out there, looking like he’s about to float off the ground.”

your stomach flips, but in a good way. you take one last breath, smoothing your dress, and follow mc out the door. the music shifts, signaling the start of the ceremony, and you watch as she walks down the aisle first, a little bounce in her step despite trying to look composed.

you take your dad’s arm, and when the doors open, it’s like the whole world narrows down to one single point—caleb, standing at the altar, his eyes locked on you. he’s in a fitted suit, his hair combed just right, but it’s the look on his face that hits you hardest—pure, unfiltered love. gideon stands next to him as the best man, grinning like he’s in on the best secret.

as you walk down the aisle, you catch glimpses of familiar faces—high school friends, college friends, caleb’s teammates from the DAA program. they’re all smiling, some wiping away tears, but it’s caleb who keeps your gaze, like he can’t believe you’re really here.

when you finally reach him, your dad gives your hand to caleb, and you swear his grip tightens just a little, like he’s grounding himself with you.

the officiant starts talking, but you barely hear the words, too caught up in caleb’s steady gaze, his fingers brushing yours like he’s reminding himself that you’re real.

“you both have grown up together,” the officiant says, smiling warmly. “from childhood friends to high school sweethearts to partners in every sense of the word. today, they’re choosing each other…forever.”

caleb’s smile softens, his thumb tracing little circles on the back of your hand. when it’s his turn to speak, his voice is low but steady. “i always knew it’d be you,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. “even when we were kids. even when I didn’t understand what love was, i knew it would always be you. and today...I promise to keep choosing you. every day. for the rest of my life.”

your chest feels tight with happiness, tears welling up despite your best efforts to stay composed. when it’s your turn, you squeeze his hands a little tighter. “I guess i can’t say i never knew what love is, because you were right there the whole time,” you say, your voice wavering just a bit. “you’ve always made me feel safe, cherished, and loved. and today... i promise to stand by you, to support you, and to love you for as long as we both live.”

the officiant smiles, clearly moved. “do you, caleb take..” you stare at him lovingly, ears starting to tune the world out momentarily before you return, “-- to be your wife, to love and cherish through every moment life brings?” – “i do,” caleb says without hesitation, his eyes shining.

the officiant turns to you, and you take calebs appearance in once more, before turning your gaze to the officiant once more, “-- take caleb to be your husband, to love and cherish through every moment life brings?”

you barely whisper, “i do,” but it’s enough. the officiant grins. “by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you husband and wife. caleb, you may kiss your bride.”

caleb doesn’t waste a second, pulling you into his arms and kissing you like he’s never going to stop. the crowd cheers, and you can hear mc practically screaming in excitement. gideon’s clapping loudest of all, and josephine dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, shaking her head like she can’t believe her grandkids are grown up. when you finally pull back, caleb’s still holding you, his forehead pressed to yours. “mrs. xia,” he murmurs, a little smirk playing on his lips.

you laugh, wiping at your face. “still getting used to that.” he kisses you again, softer this time, like he’s got all the time in the world. the rest of the ceremony blurs together—pictures, hugs from family and friends, mc practically dragging you around to take selfies while gideon and caleb joke about the best man speech.

the reception is filled with laughter and toasts, good food and dancing. when caleb pulls you onto the dance floor for your first dance, he holds you close, whispering how beautiful you look, how lucky he feels.

you rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and think that maybe this is what happily ever after really feels like—holding on to the one person who’s always been your everything.

life in skyhaven feels like a new chapter—a fresh start wrapped in soft mornings and quiet nights. the house you and caleb move into is modest but perfect: two stories, a little backyard, and a kitchen with windows that catch the sunrise. it’s the kind of place that feels like it’s waiting to be filled with laughter and memories.

your wedding photos are the first things to go up, framed and carefully placed on the mantle. caleb insists on hanging the one where you’re both mid-laugh, your veil caught in the wind, because “it’s the most us.” gideon helps move in the heavier furniture, making jokes about how he’s the real MVP of the relationship for hauling the couch up the stairs. mc insists on helping too, even though she mostly just bosses everyone around while zayne tries not to laugh.

the first night after everything’s settled, you and caleb just sit on the living room floor, eating takeout from cardboard boxes. he leans back against the wall, legs stretched out, and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

“feels like ours,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. you hum in agreement, closing your eyes and just letting the warmth of his embrace seep in. “it is ours.”

you fall into a rhythm after that. caleb’s schedule at the DAA is demanding, but he’s home most nights, and you make the most of every minute together. weekends are for lazy mornings wrapped up in each other, cooking breakfast while he sneaks kisses between flipping pancakes. sometimes you’ll just walk around skyhaven, exploring little shops and coffee places, your fingers always intertwined like you’re afraid of losing him.

your jobs keep you busy, but somehow you always find time for each other. date nights are a priority—sometimes fancy dinners, sometimes just cuddling on the couch with a movie neither of you really watch. intimacy becomes second nature, a language you both know by heart. some nights, you’ll find yourselves tangled in bedsheets, his laughter low and breathless against your neck, the world slipping away until it’s just the two of you.

one evening, after a long day, you’re curled up together on the couch, caleb tracing lazy patterns on your back. he keeps talking about his last flight, describing the feeling of being above the clouds, and you just listen, letting his voice soothe you.

then, one morning, you notice it—just a small flutter in your stomach, like nerves. at first, you brush it off, but it keeps happening. and then your period’s late. not just by a day, but by a week. it hits you while you’re brushing your teeth, and you freeze, staring at your reflection like it might give you the answer.

caleb’s in the kitchen, making coffee, humming softly. you wander in, your hands shaking just a little.

“hey,” you start, trying to keep your voice steady. “can we... talk?”

he turns, immediately picking up on your tone, concern etching his features. “what’s up?”

you hesitate, your heart pounding. “i think... i might be pregnant.”

for a second, he just stares, the words sinking in. then his eyes widen, and he sets down his mug carefully, like he’s afraid of dropping it. “wait—really?”

you nod, swallowing hard. “i’m not sure, but... i’m late. and i feel... different.”

he crosses the space between you in two steps, cupping your face gently. “are you okay?” you breathe out a laugh, still a little stunned. “yeah. just... surprised.”

his thumb strokes your cheek, his gaze softening. “do you... want to take a test? just to know?”

you nod, and without another word, he grabs his keys. the drive to the pharmacy is quiet but not uncomfortable—just full of unspoken thoughts. when you get home, he insists on waiting outside the bathroom, pacing the hallway like he’s about to take off in one of his planes.

when you finally look at the test, your heart skips a beat. two lines. positive.

you open the door slowly, and caleb almost trips over himself trying to get in. you just hold the test out, and he stares at it, his mouth falling open. “is that...”

you nod, barely holding back tears. “we’re having a baby.”

for a moment, he just stands there, frozen. then he pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. “we’re having a baby,” he repeats, almost like he’s testing out the words. you laugh, half in disbelief. “yeah.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands on your waist, his eyes shining. “i’m gonna be a dad?” you nod, wiping at your cheeks. “and i’m gonna be a mom.”

he kisses you then, deep and slow, like he’s trying to memorize the way this moment feels. when he finally pulls back, he’s grinning, almost giddy. “we’re gonna be parents.”

you both end up on the floor, tangled together, laughing and crying at the same time. later, when you call mc to tell her, she screams so loud you have to hold the phone away from your ear. josephine cries when caleb tells her, saying something about how she knew the two of you would make her a great-grandma someday.

when you call your parents, your mom can barely contain her excitement. “a baby? i knew it! i knew you two would be giving me grandkids sooner rather than later!” your dad tries to play it cool, but you can hear the pride in his voice when he says, “i’m gonna teach that kid how to play ball. boy or girl doesn’t matter. they’re gonna know how to shoot.”

that night, caleb holds you close, his hand resting protectively over your stomach. “we’re gonna be good at this,” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple. you smile, pressing closer. “because we’re in this together.”

and as the night settles around you, you know that no matter what, this new adventure—just like every one before it—will be something you face hand in hand.

life had been good—better than good, really. mornings wrapped up in caleb’s arms, evenings spent planning the nursery, his hands always finding your stomach like he can’t help but remind himself that your baby is real, growing, safe. it’s become your favorite part of the day—feeling his palm resting there, his eyes soft with wonder.

but, fate? well.. she’s a cruel mistress.

you’ve been thinking about his upcoming mission, about how he’ll be gone for a few weeks and how much you’ll miss him. it’s why you decided to get him something special—a little piece of you that he can take with him. when you saw the small, simple necklace in the window—a silver apple pendant—you knew it was perfect. something to remind him of your promise to always be there, no matter where he flies.

you’re almost three months along now. your belly isn’t that noticeable yet, but you’ve felt the changes—the tenderness, the exhaustion, the way your body is quietly transforming. caleb’s been nothing but attentive, more protective than ever, always making sure you’re eating enough, getting enough sleep.

you decided to pick up the necklace on your way home from the market, the little shop tucked into a quiet part of town. the shopkeeper remembers you from the other day, already has the necklace wrapped up in a small velvet pouch. you’re about to thank her when the ground trembles—a low, guttural rumble that makes the windows shake.

your heart stutters. you know that sound. wanderers.

the shopkeeper’s eyes go wide, and someone outside screams. you’re frozen for a second, fear coursing through you, but instinct takes over. you clutch the necklace in your hand, slipping it into your pocket as you move toward the back exit.

you barely make it two steps when the world erupts. the noise is deafening—concrete splitting, glass shattering. you turn just in time to see the wall opposite you cave in, like it’s being hit from the outside. you don’t have time to react, to think, to do anything but brace yourself as the building shudders, the ceiling groaning under the pressure.

the last thing you see is the wall hurtling toward you, a blur of dust and debris, and then—

nothing…..

caleb’s in the middle of a debriefing when his phone buzzes, but he ignores it at first. it’s only when gideon comes running into the room, pale and frantic, that he realizes something’s wrong.

“caleb—there’s been an attack. downtown. a wanderer came through.”

caleb’s stomach plummets. he barely hears the rest—something about the market, about people being pulled from the rubble. all he knows is that you’d mentioned stopping by that area, something about a gift for him. his hands are shaking as he pushes past gideon, sprinting out to the tarmac, where his car is parked.

he drives like he’s in one of his training sims—reckless, fast, threading through traffic with single-minded focus. when he reaches the scene, it’s chaos—firefighters, medics, people crying and yelling, dust thick in the air.

he spots the wreckage of the little shop, the wall collapsed outward into the street, and he can’t breathe. his vision blurs, his pulse thundering in his ears.

“no... no, no, no,” he whispers, shoving his way through the crowd.

someone tries to stop him—a firefighter, shouting something about it not being safe—but caleb’s evol pulses to life, the gravity around him bending and warping. rubble that would have been immovable suddenly shifts, lifting into the air as if weightless, his desperation fueling the power coursing through him.

he sees it then—a hand sticking out from under a chunk of concrete, your ring glinting in the dim light. caleb’s knees hit the pavement, his entire world narrowing down to that single point.

“no!” his voice cracks as he pulls at the rubble, his evol pushing the debris aside like it’s made of paper. his hands shake, and he can’t stop the sob that tears from his throat as he drags pieces away, gravity warping around him like a storm, stones floating briefly before crashing down around him.

gideon catches up, grabbing caleb’s shoulders, but caleb shrugs him off, barely hearing him. “it’s her—it’s her, i know it,” he chokes out, pulling one last piece of the wall away with a forceful wave of his hand.

then he sees you, still and pale, dust settling around you. your hair is matted with blood, your face smeared with dirt, but it’s undeniably you. caleb drops to his knees beside you, hands trembling as he cups your face.

“baby... no, no, please,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “wake up. you have to—please.”

he pulls you into his lap, rocking back and forth, his other hand on your pregnant stomach, oblivious to the world around him. gravity ripples in waves, small stones lifting and falling as his control frays. gideon kneels beside him, not saying anything, just resting a hand on caleb’s back.

a medic moves closer, checking for a pulse, but the shake of her head is final. caleb’s body collapses in on itself, his hold on gravity snapping—debris crashes back to the ground with a violent thud, and the wind around them seems to bend and twist, matching his anguish.

he clutches the small velvet pouch from your pocket, the apple necklace spilling into his palm. he just holds it, pressing it against his chest as sobs wrack his body.

“we were gonna be a family,” he whispers, his tears wetting your hair. “i was gonna... protect you. keep you safe. i promised.”

gideon’s voice is soft, choked. “caleb...”

but caleb doesn’t move, doesn’t let go. he just keeps repeating your name, like if he says it enough times, you’ll come back. his whole world is gone—shattered in an instant—and he can’t do anything but hold you, his fingers tangled with yours, begging the universe to give you back.

you’re in the kitchen, sunlight spilling through the windows, the smell of breakfast in the air. caleb’s at the stove, flipping pancakes with that practiced ease, humming softly under his breath. the kitchen is full of noise—laughter, tiny feet thumping against the floor, and the baby’s high-pitched babble from the high chair.

mc is leaning against the counter, holding a cup of coffee, grinning at you. “you guys are disgusting,” she teases, watching caleb sneak a kiss before you take the next plate of pancakes.

“jealous?” caleb fires back, smirking as he sets another pancake on the growing stack.

a little girl runs by—tangled hair and bright eyes—chasing after a boy who’s wielding a wooden spoon like a sword. you can’t help but laugh, scooping the toddler out of the high chair and pressing a kiss to his soft cheek.

caleb wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “think we might have our hands full,” he murmurs, but his voice is full of fondness.

“definitely,” you agree, leaning back against him.

it’s perfect. the house is full, messy and loud and alive. you feel that familiar warmth in your chest, the kind that only comes from knowing this is your family, your life.

then there’s a flicker—a harsh crack that splits the air. you blink, and suddenly the house fades away, slipping from your grasp like sand through your fingers.

the light’s gone, replaced by gray smoke and the distant sound of sirens. your head feels heavy, like you’ve been asleep too long, but when you open your eyes, you’re... standing.

standing in the street, watching a crowd gather. your eyes find the wreckage of the little shop, the wall broken and crumbling. there’s someone on the ground, wrapped in a familiar coat, dust and blood smeared across their face.

you move closer, and that’s when you see him—caleb, hunched over, his hands cradling a still form. his shoulders shake, and his face is buried in your hair, whispering something over and over.

you freeze, heart pounding. “caleb?” you call, stepping forward. “caleb, I’m right here—”

he doesn’t look up. you reach out, but your hand passes through his shoulder like air. panic rises, cold and sharp. you look at his hands, at the way he’s holding... you. your body.

your legs feel weak. “no,” you whisper. “no, no….this can’t be—”

caleb’s sobbing, his forehead pressed to your temple. you can hear him whispering, “please, please come back, baby, please.”

you sink to your knees, your hands shaking. “caleb... i’m here. please, look at me.”

nothing. he doesn’t move, doesn’t hear you. the realization hits hard, a crushing weight. you’re dead. gone. and he’s still here, breaking apart right in front of you, and you can’t do anything to reach him.

your throat tightens, and for a moment you just watch him—watch the way he holds you like he’s afraid to let go, the way his hands are stained with your blood. you start to cry, not from pain or fear, but from the sheer helplessness of it all.

“caleb...” you choke out, even though you know he can’t hear. “i’m sorry...”

gideon kneels beside him, trying to get him to move, but caleb just shakes his head, refusing to let go.

“i was supposed to protect her,” he whispers, his voice shattered. “i promised...”

you curl in on yourself, pressing your hands to your mouth to keep from screaming. the future you’d seen—the one with your big, happy family, caleb teaching your daughter to ride a bike, you chasing after the baby—it’s gone. erased. and you can’t even hold him, can’t even tell him you love him one more time.

the sirens grow louder, and medics move closer, but caleb still won’t let go. you reach out one more time, your fingers brushing through his hair, and even though he doesn’t react, you whisper, “i love you... i’ll always love you.”

and in the space between your heartbeat and his sobs, you feel it—the ache of everything you’ve lost, and the terrible, undeniable truth that you’ll never have that future together.

time doesn’t stop. even though it feels like it should, even though the world should have shattered along with your heartbeat, it keeps going. days blur into weeks, then months, and you watch from above, your soul aching with the weight of it all.

it’s quiet where you are—soft, light, like floating on a warm breeze. you’re not bound to one place, but you find yourself lingering around the people you love, watching them navigate a life that now feels hollow without you.

caleb doesn’t leave skyhaven. he stays in the house you shared, even though gideon offers to help him move somewhere new. he doesn’t have the heart to pack up your things—your clothes still hang in the closet, your shoes lined up by the door. sometimes, when the silence gets too heavy, he pulls out your favorite sweater and wraps it around himself, pretending for just a moment that you’re still there.

he goes back to work sooner than anyone expected—partly because he doesn’t know what else to do, and partly because he needs the distraction. flying has always been his escape, and now, more than ever, he needs the sky. you watch him train, pushing himself harder than before, his focus almost mechanical. gideon stays close, keeping an eye on him, worried that one day he might push too far and not come back.

caleb’s dedication doesn’t go unnoticed. after a few years, he earns a promotion—colonel in the farspace fleet. it’s a title that comes with respect, with responsibility. you watch him receive his new uniform, his face stoic and composed, but later that night, when he’s alone on the porch, he pulls the apple necklace from under his shirt, running his thumb over the pendant.

“made it, baby,” he whispers to the sky. “like i promised.”

you’re there, lingering at his side, wishing you could tell him how proud you are.

mc grows stronger, too. she joins the deepspace hunters—a program designed to track and eliminate wanderers before they reach populated areas. she trains relentlessly, pouring all her anger and grief into every mission. you see her determination—the way she pushes herself to be faster, smarter, like she’s trying to protect everyone the way she couldn’t protect you.

one evening, after a long mission, mc sits with caleb at the diner, her hand wrapped around a cup of coffee. they’re both quiet, the space between them heavy with memories.

“sometimes,” mc says, barely above a whisper, “i still hear her laugh. like... when it’s too quiet, i just... hear it. like she’s right there.”

caleb doesn’t respond at first, just stares at his own cup. “me too,” he finally admits. “sometimes i dream about her. about... the life we were supposed to have.”

mc wipes at her eyes, trying to be subtle, and zayne just places a hand on her back, comforting.

they don’t say much more, but it’s enough to know that they’re still carrying you with them, even after all this time.

your parents never really stop grieving, but they find ways to keep going. your mom keeps your favorite plants alive, watering them every morning, talking to them like you used to. your dad starts fixing up old furniture—something to keep his hands busy, something to distract him from the quiet. they visit caleb often, bringing him food and making sure he’s taking care of himself. sometimes they stay for hours, just talking about anything and everything, never mentioning the loss that hangs heavy over them all.

years pass. caleb remains dedicated to his position, rising in the ranks, but he never settles. he’s still the one volunteering for the hardest missions, still the one pushing himself beyond his limits. gideon becomes his right-hand man, and together they manage their unit with precision and skill.

mc and zayne get married—quietly, just a few friends and family. caleb walks her down the aisle, and you’re there too, watching from the corner of the little chapel. she laughs when she stumbles over her vows, and zayne just squeezes her hands, telling her to take her time. for a moment, she looks over her shoulder, like she’s expecting to see you behind her as her maid of honor, but when she doesn’t, she just takes a breath and finishes her words.

caleb doesn’t date. people talk about it sometimes—how he’s still young, still handsome, still kind. but he never shows interest, always just shakes his head when someone hints at setting him up. even though he keeps moving forward, his heart is still with you.

sometimes, when he’s alone, he talks to the garden where your memorial is—just quiet conversations about his day, about the missions, about how he’s still trying to do right by you.

you watch it all, your presence like a soft breeze through the leaves. you want to tell him that you’re okay, that you’re at peace, but you’re not sure if he’d ever really believe it.

life keeps going, and you see the world changing around him. mc and zayne have their first child—a boy, with zayne’s bright smile and mc’s fierce spirit and caleb practically becomes the boy’s godfather..

sometimes, when he thinks no one’s looking, caleb pulls out the necklace, tracing the apple with his thumb.

“i kept my promise,” he whispers, his eyes on the sky. “i’m still here. still fighting. just... wish you were here to see it.”

and every night, you sit by his side, letting your presence linger like the soft glow of the stars, hoping he knows that even though your paths diverged, your love never really faded.

time moves differently when you’re not part of it anymore. you watch from your place in the sky as years stretch on, seasons passing like waves. life doesn’t stop—not for grief, not for joy. it just keeps going, a slow, steady rhythm that you can’t touch but can only witness.

caleb settles into his role at the farspace fleet, his leadership becoming almost legendary among the newer pilots. they look up to him—not just for his skills, but for his dedication and the way he carries himself. he’s firm but fair, always encouraging the younger ones to push past their limits but reminding them to come back safe.

mc and zayne’s family grows. after lyra, they have two more kids—a girl named mae and a boy named kieran. caleb is at every birthday, every family barbecue, every soccer game. he shows them how to make paper airplanes, how to tie knots, and how to tell the difference between constellations.

you watch the celebrations—birthdays with homemade cakes, christmases with too many presents, thanksgiving dinners where mc accidentally burns the rolls but insists they’re “just crispy.” caleb always laughs, always reassures her that it’s perfect.

but time doesn’t just bring joy. it brings loss, too.

you see the slow fading of josephine—how her hands get weaker, how her laughter becomes softer. caleb takes care of her, visiting almost daily, making sure she’s comfortable. the kids love visiting her house, even when she’s too tired to get up from her favorite chair. one afternoon, when the sun is just right, josephine passes quietly, holding caleb’s hand.

he doesn’t cry at first, just presses a kiss to her forehead and whispers, “i’ll take care of mc. i promise.”

later that night, he sits on the porch, clutching the apple necklace, his shoulders hunched. gideon sits beside him, just as old now, both of them more gray than not, and caleb finally lets the tears come.

a few years later, it’s your parents’ turn. your dad goes first, his health fading bit by bit. your mom holds his hand until the very end, and when he finally slips away, she just leans her head on his shoulder and whispers, “i’ll see you soon.”

it’s not long after that your mom follows. caleb is there for every step, helping with arrangements, making sure they’re laid to rest beside each other. mc clings to him during the funeral, her grief heavy and raw. caleb doesn’t say much—just stands beside the gravestones, his hand on your dad’s old walking stick.

“i promised her i’d take care of you,” he whispers. “and i will. i always will.”

you’re there, too—watching, feeling the ache but knowing that they’re together now, just like they wanted. and even though caleb doesn’t see you, you press your hand to his shoulder, wishing he could feel it.

years go by. lyra, mae, and kieran grow up—awkward, gangly teenagers with loud voices and big dreams. lyra joins the academy, wanting to be a pilot just like her uncle. mae gets into music, her room filled with guitars and song lyrics. kieran plays basketball, towering over his sisters by the time he’s fifteen.

caleb never misses a game, never misses a chance to cheer them on, even when his knees start to ache and his hair goes more silver than black. gideon retires first, moving out to a small cabin by the lake, but caleb keeps going a little longer, determined to see lyra through her first year in the fleet.

the day he announces his retirement, the entire fleet throws a party. lyra’s there in her new uniform, beaming with pride as she hands him a handmade card signed by half the pilots. caleb just shakes his head, smiling but looking a little overwhelmed.

that night, back on the porch, he sighs as he lowers himself into the old rocking chair, his hands shaking just a little. he takes out the apple necklace, holding it like a lifeline.

“finally did it, baby,” he murmurs. “retired. gideon says it’s about time. i guess... i guess he’s right. i’m getting too old for this.”

you stand beside him, feeling the bittersweet pull in your heart. he looks up at the stars, his face lined but still so familiar, and you can’t help the tears that fill your eyes. he’s older now—his joints creak when he moves, his steps slower, but his eyes are still warm, still full of love.

“you’d laugh if you saw me now,” he says softly, his voice rough. “barely got the energy to mow the lawn. and the kids—they’re all grown up. lyra’s gonna be a pilot. just like i was.”

you kneel beside him, brushing your fingers through the air near his hand, wishing you could hold it.

“you’d be proud of them,” he continues, his smile tinged with sadness. “mc’s got her own team now. zayne’s still patching people up. and me... well, i’m just here. still holding on.”

you can’t help but cry, but it’s not all sadness. it’s joy, too—a deep, aching joy that you still get to see him live. you’re grateful to witness every year, to see the way he keeps moving forward, even when it hurts.

as the stars come out, he leans back, closing his eyes. “sometimes, i still feel you,” he whispers. “like you’re just... right there. and i like to think... maybe someday...”

he doesn’t finish, just holds the necklace a little tighter.

you sit beside him, wiping your own tears, and as the night deepens, you feel something peaceful settle around you. you’re still here, still with him, and he never forgot—not for one second.

you’re grateful, even as your heart breaks, because you know that love like yours doesn’t just end. it lingers, just like the stars, always there even when the world moves on.

as the years keep moving, his body becomes less forgiving. his joints ache more in the mornings, his steps a little slower. his hair is fully silver now, cropped short, and his hands tremble sometimes when he’s holding a cup of coffee. the farspace fleet is in his past now—he’s officially retired, though his mind still drifts to the sky on quiet evenings.

he stays in the house you shared, keeping the garden tended, though it’s more flowers now than vegetables. he spends a lot of time on the porch, rocking in the old chair, looking out at the road as if expecting someone to come walking up any minute. sometimes he talks to the wind, sharing stories about his day, about the kids, about how much he still misses you.

one afternoon, he pulls out the old wooden box from the closet—the one with important papers, documents, things he’s tucked away for safekeeping. he sits at the kitchen table, his reading glasses perched on his nose, and starts sorting through it.

he’s never been one to dwell too much on the end, but lately, he’s been feeling it more—the tiredness settling into his bones, the way his thoughts sometimes feel heavy and slow. it doesn’t scare him, really. it’s more of a quiet acceptance, like he’s spent so long carrying so much that it’s finally time to put it down.

he starts drafting his will, his handwriting a bit shaky but still careful. he writes about the house—how he wants it to go to mc and zayne, so the kids can always come back. he writes about his old flight journals, leaving them to lyra, knowing she’ll appreciate the stories and the notes about his missions.

when it comes to your things—your clothes, your books, the trinkets you collected—he hesitates. it’s been so long, but he never could bring himself to pack them away. instead, he writes a small note, saying they should go to mc, since she always appreciated your sense of style and loved the stories behind your knick-knacks.

he pauses, rubbing at his eyes, then pulls out the little apple necklace from his shirt. it’s worn, the shine faded, but it’s still intact, still his most cherished possession. he writes that it should go to lyra, since she always loved hearing about how you gave it to him for good luck.

he sits back, letting out a slow breath. it feels strange to put it all on paper—like acknowledging that his time is winding down. he doesn’t feel sad, just... tired. like he’s been running for so long and finally gets to rest.

mc visits later that evening, bringing dinner and the grandkids. lyra’s in her pilot uniform, looking proud and grown-up, and caleb can’t help but ruffle her hair like she’s still a kid. mae shows off the new song she’s been working on, and kieran talks about his basketball game, eager to share every detail.

caleb just sits back, soaking it in, his heart full. when the kids go to bed, mc sits with him on the porch, noticing the papers stacked neatly on the table.

“writing stuff down?” she asks softly.

he nods, not looking at her. “just... getting things in order. figured it was time.”

mc doesn’t say anything for a while, just leans her head against his shoulder. “you’ve done good, caleb. you really have.”

he swallows hard, his fingers brushing over the necklace. “i just... don’t want to leave anything undone. you know? i want them to know how much they meant to me. how much she meant to me.”

mc’s hand finds his, squeezing gently. “they know. she knows.”

they sit in comfortable silence, the sky turning shades of orange and pink. when it gets late, mc kisses his cheek, whispering, “i’ll see you tomorrow,” and heads back inside to check on the kids, “have a good night, pipsqueak.” he says.

caleb stays on the porch, watching the stars come out. he closes his eyes, leaning back in the rocking chair, and thinks about all the years that have passed—all the moments that still make him smile.

you’re there, as always, sitting beside him, even if he can’t see you. your heart aches, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming love that never faded. you reach out, your presence soft as a breeze, and watch as caleb leans his head back, whispering your name into the night air.

“soon,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but certain. “i’ll see you soon.”

and from where you are, you feel both grateful and heartbroken, knowing that he’s lived a full life, but that it’s winding down. you just hope that when the time comes, you’ll be the one to meet him at the end, ready to hold him the way you couldn’t when you left.

he knows it’s time.

it’s not a feeling of fear or regret—just a soft certainty, like a candle finally flickering out. he’s known for a while now—how his body has slowed down, how his breaths come a little more labored, how his hands shake even when he’s just holding a cup of tea.

the house is quiet. mc visited earlier, bringing food and checking in, but caleb insisted he was fine, that he just needed some rest. she left reluctantly, promising to call in the morning.

when the door closes, caleb takes a long breath, steadying himself. he gets up from his rocking chair, moving slower than he used to, but with purpose. his joints creak, and he grips the banister as he makes his way to the bedroom.

once inside, he moves to the closet, reaching up to the high shelf where a small, worn box sits. it’s dusty from years of being tucked away, but it’s still just as he left it. he carries it carefully to the bed, sitting on the edge as he pries the lid open.

inside are the remnants of a life lived—little pieces of his heart that he’s kept safe for all these years.

he takes out the first photo—one from your first dance, when you both were just kids, his tie crooked and your dress a little wrinkled from running around beforehand. he laughs softly, tracing the edges, remembering how you made him promise to take you to every dance after that.

the next photo is from your first date—the one where everything went wrong and you couldn’t stop laughing. you’re both sitting in the diner booth, your cheeks flushed from trying to contain your giggles, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world.

he pulls out a stack of love letters next, the paper soft and worn from being read over and over. some of them are his, scribbled notes he left you on the kitchen counter or slipped into your coat pocket before he left for training. others are yours—neat handwriting, talking about how proud you were of him, how you couldn’t wait for him to come home.

there’s a little carved wooden heart you made him once—a joke about how he “stole yours” when you were just teenagers. he remembers teasing you about how uneven the edges were, but you just shrugged and said it made it unique—just like him.

caleb scatters the photos and letters across the bed, letting them fan out like a mosaic of your life together. he picks up the necklace from around his neck—the little silver apple—and sets it gently among the photos.

his hands are trembling as he lays back against the pillows, his breaths growing softer, slower. he closes his eyes, and a wave of calm washes over him, like a weight finally lifting from his shoulders.

he lets out a slow, deep breath, his fingers still resting on the old, worn photos. his eyes flutter closed, his chest rises and falls one last time, and then stillness settles over the room.

the house is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. the photos lay scattered on the bed, each one a snapshot of a life filled with love, loss, and the ache of remembering. caleb’s hand rests over the necklace, his face peaceful, as if he’s simply fallen asleep, finally at rest after a lifetime of carrying so much.

when he opens his eyes again, he’s standing on a path bathed in golden light, the sky impossibly blue, the air fragrant with wildflowers. he feels different—his movements are steady, his back straight, but when he looks down, he sees his hands—still wrinkled and worn, aged by the years.

he follows the path, his footsteps light, and as he gets closer to the towering gates ahead, he sees someone standing just beyond them. his heart lurches, recognition hitting him all at once.

it’s you.

you’re standing there, dressed in white, your hair flowing like it did when you were young, your smile soft and bright. you haven’t aged a day—still the same as when you left, still beautiful, still his. and he looks down, your baby bump. caleb stops, his breath catching, and tears fill his eyes before he can stop them. he doesn’t even think to wipe them away—just stands there, his heart aching with joy and disbelief.

you walk forward, your arms outstretched, your own tears glistening like tiny stars.

“i’ve been waiting for you, my love,” you say softly, your voice trembling.

caleb lets out a shaky laugh, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “sorry for taking so long,” he whispers, his voice thick. you just shake your head, stepping closer, your hands cupping his face. he leans into your touch, his hands settling on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again.

then he pulls back just enough to look at you properly, his mouth twitching in a crooked smile. “you... you’re still young,” he says, bewildered. “and i’m... well, i’m grandpa age.”

you laugh, your hand brushing through his silvery hair. “you are,” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes. “look at you—old man, gray hair... you could pass for josephine’s brother.”

he huffs, still a little self-conscious. “i guess i figured... i’d look like i used to. you know... not like this.”

you cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the lines at the corner of his mouth. “as long as you’re my caleb, i don’t care.” he can’t help but laugh, the sound soft and full of wonder. “you’re sure you don’t mind having an old man hanging around?”

you just shake your head, pulling him closer. “ you’re my caleb. always. no matter how many years pass. i love you.”

his lips find yours, and it’s soft and familiar, like no time has passed at all. he holds you close, his hands resting on your waist, and when he pulls back, his eyes are clear, his heart full.

“i missed you,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

“i know,” you say, your forehead resting against his. “but you lived. you did everything you promised. and now... we’ve got forever.”

caleb just smiles, a little shy, a little relieved. “can’t believe i get to be with you again.”

you take his hand, squeezing it tight. “you’re home.”

and as you guide him through the gates, your hands intertwined, he knows that this is it—where he was always meant to end up. with you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @rcvcgers, @miffysoo, @blessdunrest

[velaenam]

Uh for ur work dominia of the east is caleb’s mistress mc? Sorry for troubling u

no trouble at all!! and yes it is! mistress!mc

[velaenam]

vel!! have you played any of the new cards yet? caleb’s story reminded me so much of the final callsign. i got so emotional :’) especially because i was thinking of YOUR amazing story

i actually don't play the game that often, and my rolls are really unlucky (i rolled like i think 60 and i haven't gotten anything , but i hear its a lovely event!! thank you so much for thinking about my story what the heck 🥺🥺 don't give me ideas