yansolivan

[yansolivan]

Work of Art — Caleb x Reader/MC

summary : Being best friends since you could even remember, you were sure you knew Caleb perfectly, not a single detail of his being left unknown. And yet, it seemed like you didn’t know about some of his precious piercings he got during your favourite era of his. And you intend on finding out every single one of them.

setting : alternate universe — modern setting

contents : no use of y/n, tattoos and piercings, hidden piercings – you’ll find out where, smut, porn with feelings, friends with benefits, come eating, p in v, squirting, riding, body worship, explicit consent, oral sex, rough sex, NOT proofread!

7,4k words — three chapters!

Part One! • Part Two (coming soon)

You and Caleb had been best friends since you could even remember. Over the years, you'd seen him evolve through everything — emo bangs, experimental hair colours, strange fashion choices, and the infamous “piercing phase.” It had started with a simple ear stud, and then, as if he’d found his calling, it turned into a full-on collection.

To your surprise, it suited him. The glint of metal seemed to emphasize the mischief in his purple eyes, the way he always managed to toe the line between bold and reckless. Still, the piercings never changed the foundation of your friendship — solid, easy, and entirely platonic. That’s what you’ve always told yourself, at least.

Today was one of those chill afternoons where nothing happened and that was perfectly fine. You were both sprawled on his unmade bed, phones in hand, the low hum of music filling the background. His head was resting on your stomach as your free hand played with his soft hair.

Your eyes fell on his pierced eyebrow and your curiosity piqued; without looking up, you asked, “Hey, so, how many piercings do you have in total now?”

Caleb chuckled, not expecting such a random question in such a random moment, tilting his head toward you. “Like 19, I think. Why?”

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. You were sure there were fewer than that. At least the visible ones. “Really? But I only count 12. Where are the others?”

That mischievous smirk — his signature look that always meant mocking you — spread across his face. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you wanna know where the others are?”

You laughed, playfully pulling his hair. “Don’t make it weird, you asshole.”

“Too late,” he teased, slightly raising his torso and leaning back on his elbows. “Some are hidden. I got a few of them just for me to know. Or, well, for when someone really wants to know.”

You gave him a look both confused and amused. “So, like… secret treasure hunt level of hidden?”

“Exactly,” he said with a wink. Your curiosity was now at its fullest, but you weren’t sure you wanted to dive into that territory. Yet the idea lingered, buzzing with the low tension of unspoken things — things you both had probably never considered until now.

His voice soon distracted you from whatever direction your thoughts were going. “Some in places you’d never guess. Some I forget I even have.”

You squinted at him, intrigued. “You forget your own piercings?” He shrugged, stretching lazily, almost like a cat, you thought. “When you have this many, yeah. They kinda become part of the background noise.”

You leaned back under him, letting the silence settle for a moment. “Still. Feels weird not knowing. I thought I knew everything about you.”

Caleb glanced sideways at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe you don’t know everything, pipsqueak.”

You looked at him, unsure if he was being cryptic or just messing with you in that way he always did. Either way, it left you wondering — not just about the piercings, but about what else had slipped past you over the years.

He turned back to his phone like the conversation had never happened, but something about the quiet between you had shifted. Just slightly. Like a door cracked open.

And you weren’t sure yet if you wanted to look through it or kick it wide open. You tried focusing back on the Youtube video playing on your phone, but your mind wasn’t on it anymore. Not really.

You stole another glance at Caleb. He was focused on something — probably a meme or a random post about planes — but there was a small curve at the edge of his mouth like he knew you were watching.

“Okay,” you said, breaking the silence. “Give me a hint.” He didn’t look up. “About what?”

“About one of the mystery piercings,” you replied, trying to sound casual, like this wasn’t some weird game that suddenly felt heavier than it should.

He chuckled under his breath. “Why? You keeping score?” “I’m just curious. You said I don’t know everything. I wanna test that.”

Now he looked at you. Really looked at you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made your stomach tighten. His expressions often were difficult for you to read, but this one… It made your heart stop for a second.

“Alright,” he said. “You know the back of my tongue is pierced, right? It’s called tongue web.”

You blinked, confused. You knew he had his tongue pierced, not the back of it. It made you even more curious; was it difficult to make out with such piercings? “No?”

“Well. Now you do.”

You laughed, surprised. “How would I ever find that out, Caleb? That’s not exactly in a place someone could ever notice without making out.”

“That’s the point,” he said, smiling, and there was a pause. He shifted slightly, turning toward you, his hand on your hip. “Your turn.”

You raised an eyebrow. “My turn for what?”

“To tell me something I don’t know about you.” You hesitated. That same quiet tension was back again — nothing uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. It wasn’t like you’d never shared things with him. But now the stakes felt different.

You exhaled. “Okay. Um… I got a tattoo last summer.”

”What? Where?” he asked, completely confused. You hesitated just long enough to make him lean forward, as if he might be able to read it in your eyes.

You finally said, “Lower back.”

Caleb blinked, then started grinning. “You’re telling me you have a tramp stamp?”

“Technically, yes,” you said, trying to sound unbothered. “I guess that’s how it’s called.”

He laughed, throwing his head back a little. “How have I never seen this?”

You shrugged. “It’s not like I walk around flashing my lower back, Caleb. Plus, it was cold until some weeks ago, I don’t walk around in crop tops during winter you know.”

“Damn,” he said, eyes wide with playful disbelief. “You’ve been complaining about me having secret piercings, but now I find out you have a secret tattoo? What else don’t I know?”

You smirked. “Guess you’re not the only one with hidden metal — or ink, actually.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “This changes everything.”

“Does it?” you asked, voice light but curious. Caleb looked at you for a moment, like he was trying to decide how serious to be. Then he shrugged, his expression softening. “I don’t know. Maybe not. But it makes me want to look a little closer.”

There was a pause.

You smiled, the edges of your mouth curving just slightly. “You’re really asking to see my lower back right now?”

He held up his hands, mock-innocent. “For scientific reasons, of course.”

You rolled your eyes but felt the flush rising in your cheeks. Still, something made you shift just slightly, turning your back to him as you sat on the bed. You pulled your shirt up, only a little, just enough for the waistband of your jeans to dip down slightly and the black ink to show.

“There,” you said, keeping your tone neutral even though your pulse was racing.

There was a beat of silence and you prayed that he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.

Then Caleb’s voice, low and closer than you expected. “Damn. That’s actually kind of hot.”

You turned your head just enough to glance at him. He was closer than before, his eyes fixed on the ink, a look on his face you had seen directed at you before, but never understood why. Not quite teasing. Not quite joking.

When he finally met your gaze, something sharp and unspoken passed between you. A flicker of something you were almost scared to think about.

“You always keep surprises like that hidden?” he asked, voice deeper now, as if he was restraining himself from something.

You shrugged, but your voice had gone quieter too. “Only for people who bother to look.”

Another pause. His eyes dropped to your lips for just a second, then back up.

“I’m looking now,” he said.

And this time, you didn’t look away.

You weren’t sure if it was the way he said it — low, deliberate — or the way his eyes lingered on yours, but something in the air felt different. Denser. Like you were both standing on the edge of something neither of you had planned for.

Caleb didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned in just a little more, elbows resting on his knees, his left arm nearly brushing your spine. You were still turned away from him, your shirt slightly lifted, your breath shallow.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but you could feel how his fingers hovered, like he wanted to touch the ink, but he didn’t.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful. You nodded, still facing away. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting this.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it was breathy, like he felt the shift too. “Neither was I.”

You finally turned to face him again, shirt tugged back into place. Now you were sitting closer than before — knees touching, breath mingling. His gaze flicked to your lips again, but this time you both noticed it.

Neither of you moved away, though.

“It’s weird,” you said quietly.

“What is?”

“I’ve known you practically my whole life. But right now, it’s like… I don’t know anymore. You feel different.”

Caleb tilted his head slightly, that familiar smirk returning, but gentler this time. “Maybe you’re just finally noticing.”

You didn’t ask what he meant. What you should be noticing. You didn’t care at the moment.

You laughed under your breath, but it came out shakier than expected. “Or maybe,” he continued, voice just above a whisper now, “we were both just too comfortable with each other to look at us like this.”

Your breath caught. He was close. Too close. Yet not close enough.

You could feel the space between you shrinking, the line between friendship and something else blurring like ink in water. His hand moved — slow, deliberate — and rested just beside yours on the bed. Not touching. Just there.

If you moved an inch, your fingers would graze. The idea made your breath stop.

“Caleb,” you said, softly. He blinked, eyes finally meeting yours again after staring at your lips enough to burn them. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know what this is.”

“Me neither.”

“But it doesn’t feel like nothing.” You were now whispering, gulping more often than you’d like to admit.

He held your gaze, eyes darker than usual, his smile fading into something quieter, more real. “No,” he murmured. “It doesn’t.”

Your fingers twitched, just barely, his pinky brushed yours and this time you didn’t pull away. Caleb’s hand moved just slightly, his knuckles grazing your thigh, casual like it meant nothing — but his eyes never left yours.

“Should I stop?” he asked, voice still low, still calm, like he wasn’t asking if this was a boundary but more like… a formality.

You shook your head once. “No.”

That was it. No grand moment, no confession, no dramatic shift in music. Just a quiet green light in the middle of something neither of you had planned for — but weren’t about to question either.

Caleb leaned in, this time slower, more deliberate. And when he kissed you, it was different than you expected. Not hesitant, but not rushed either. Like he already knew exactly how to kiss you. And maybe, deep down, he did.

It wasn’t unsure, though. Not after the first few seconds.

His hand slid around your waist, your shirt riding up again as you shifted onto his lap without quite thinking it through. His grip on your side tightened, and you could feel the quiet restraint in the way his fingers dug into your skin but didn’t wander yet.

The kiss broke just long enough for you to breathe out a laugh against his lips.

“What?” he murmured.

“I’m trying not to overthink this,” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“Then don’t,” he said simply, his mouth brushing your jaw. “It’s just… us.”

You weren’t sure if that was supposed to make it less complicated or more. But for now, it worked.

And when his mouth moved to your neck — slow, trailing — you tilted your head without thinking. You knew him. You’d always known him. But this was new.

Familiar hands doing unfamiliar things.

You didn’t want to talk about it. Neither of you asked what it meant. That would be later. Or maybe even never.

His hand slipped beneath your shirt, his thumb brushing your ribs like he was mapping you out for the first time. He muttered something against your skin, something you didn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” you asked, breathless.

“Nothing,” he said, smirking. “Just didn’t expect this to be the highlight of my lazy Thursday.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed at his shoulder, but didn’t move off of him. He grinned up at you, and for a second, the kissiness faded back into your usual banter — but the warmth of his hands didn’t leave your waist, instead they wandered towards your tattoo on your lower back, fingers caressing the inked skin.

“You gonna start acting weird about this now?” you asked, only half-serious. He shrugged. “Only if you do.”

You raised a brow. “So… what are we doing?”

He leaned back slightly, arms still around you, looking maddeningly comfortable. “We’re hanging out. Like we always do.”

You snorted at his annoying answer. “This is not like we always do.” His grin sharpened. “Okay. We’re hanging out like we always do, but in a new way.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t disagree “Just don’t be annoying about it,” you muttered, pulling his hoodie over his head to cover his eyes. The same eyes that were looking into your soul.

He laughed at your action, one hand leaving your waist to pull the hoodie off his eyes. “No promises.”

And just like that, the line was crossed — not with a confession, not with any label. Just a kiss, a touch, a shift. Something neither of you would name. And for now, that was enough.

[yansolivan]

LI’s Love Languages — Love and Deepspace

── .✦ Caleb

acts of service and words of affirmation.

caleb worships the ground you walk on, so it’s not a surprise he would do anything to see you smile just for a moment. raining with no umbrella? he becomes one for you. he buys something for himself but you like it too? it’s yours, utterly and completely yours. there’s a puddle and you’re wearing heels? yes, he carries you, but if you wanted he would let himself be used as a bridge for you to step on. plus, he knows his way with words. he always did, always praising you and reminding you how amazing you are. no matter how simple the task you complete is, he will always praise you, even if you simply got up from bed.

── .✦ Rafayel

physical touch and giving gifts.

rafayel is clingy. it’s almost as if he wants to merge his soul with yours. he always finds a way to have his hand on you. if it’s on your waist or simply caressing your hand, he doesn’t care. when sleeping he likes to lay down on your chest so that he can hear your heartbeat and breath. and don’t get me started on how much he spoils you. he’d buy you the whole world if you asked him to. money definitely isn’t a problem for him and he makes sure that you know it. you often find gifts around the house, like a pearls necklace, earrings or your favourite sweets.

── .✦ Sylus

words of affirmation and giving gifts.

sylus is a words master. he always knows what to say and when to say it. always making you feel like a royal in his eyes, because that’s what you are for him. you’re the most perfect human being. you often complain about how much he spends for you, but honestly? he doesn’t care in the slightest: he would still let you find his black card in your wallet without telling you anything, or simply buying you a lot of things randomly. he doesn’t accept the thought of giving you something cheap and probably buys you something every single day.

── .✦ Zayne

quality time and acts of service.

zayne is a busy man, always working at the hospital and barely taking an breaks, but when he does he makes sure to spend every second with you, never wasting time. if he could, he would give up his work just to be able to stay with you, but duty always calls and he must answer. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t give you attentions. every morning, when he’s already at work, you find breakfast ready on the table with a small note reminding you to take care of yourself and how much he loves you. and when he comes back home sooner than usual he definitely will take you out for dinner.

── .✦ Xavier

words of affirmation and physical touch.

xavier loves cuddling you. he would happily sleep in your arms forever. always nuzzling his face against your chest or shoulder, loving to feel your warmth against him. he often falls asleep in your arms, his body always tired, but when he realises that he’s falling asleep, he always makes sure to remember you how soft and warm you are and how much he loves you. he often calls you his pretty star, explaining tat, just like the stars can guide someone back home, you can always make him return safely in your arms.

[yansolivan]

hii! can you please do Smut prompt 17 with Syius and Caleb with a fem! reader? thank you :p

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I had someone else also request 17 with sylus. So I’ll be posting the sylus drabble with their ask next. Be on the lookout for it! For now, here’s caleb :)

Reminder: requests are closed

Sign of devotion

Caleb x female reader

Prompt: seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remembering how it got there in the first place

Content: possessive caleb, fingering

The morning sun catches on the faint bruises and bite marks along your neck and collarbone.

Caleb hadn’t meant to leave so many. He was only trying to mouth sweet kisses along your skin, like he always does when you’ve just come apart beneath him.

But then your fingers had tangled in his hair and you sighed his name in that wrecked, breathless voice—and something in him had just snapped. His mouth had latched on without thinking, desperate to taste the way your pulse skipped under his tongue.

And now there they are, stamped on your skin: beautiful marks only he left behind.

He shouldn’t want you again. Not so soon. But desire hits him with humiliating ease, flooding low in his gut as his eyes trace over your body.

You don’t even notice at first, still yawning and rummaging through the dresser for shorts to match the comfy T-shirt you’re wearing. When you catch him watching you in the mirror, gaze locked onto your neck, you finally pause.

Your fingers rise to touch one of the darker hickeys. “I look like I was attacked by a feral animal,” you murmur with an embarrassed chuckle. “Does it look really bad?”

Caleb swallows. His voice is rough when he replies, “It’s perfect.”

Your expression shifts with a flicker of recognition that makes his cock twitch beneath the blanket.

He’s half-hard already from remembering the events that led to so many harsh kisses. The way you begged him not to stop. How you came twice before he even got his pants off. The heat of your thighs around his waist, your voice and body shaking from how good he felt inside you.

Slowly, deliberately, you glide your hand up your torso as you hold his gaze through the mirror. You let your fingers catch the hem of your shirt before dragging it up higher and exposing your soft belly. Caleb’s eyes widen when he sees more bruises, marks, and faint indents from his teeth littered all over your gorgeous curves.

You’re showing him what he did to you. Inviting him to admire it. Begging him to do it again.

His cock throbs painfully in his boxers, and he can’t help but buck his hips up into nothing—as if it could alleviate the ache you make him feel.

“Fuck. Come here, baby,” he whines, not bothering to hide how much you’ve turned him on with something so simple.

You don’t hesitate. You climb back into bed, throwing the blanket to the side and quickly straddling him so you can feel that sexy bulge that’s tempting you from beneath his underwear.

And while you’re busy running your hands along his chest and waist, his mouth returns to that dark mark on your neck. The one on your sensitive spot, where Caleb loves leaving open-mouthed kisses.

“I love seein’ you like this,” he breathes against your skin. “God, you don’t know what it does to me, pips.”

You gasp as his fingers trail between your thighs, making a determined path to your clothed cunt. Even through the cotton of your panties, he can feel how wet you already are.

A low groan catches in his throat. “You like it too,” he whispers. It’s not a question—just a fact—you both know it. “You like when I mark you up all over…when I remind you that you’re mine.”

You nod, whimpering softly as he pulls your underwear to the side and slides two fingers along your entrance before gently pushing inside. The glide is made easy by your slick, and Caleb curls his fingers against that spongy spot inside you with practiced precision. Your body rolls into the touch, helpless to stop yourself from chasing more.

“You’re gonna make me want to leave more of them,” he threatens with a growl. “I want you to feel and see me long after I’m done with you.”

The words make you clench around him, and he chuckles with satisfaction at the feeling. Your body betrays you even if you try to tell him otherwise. And his body does the same, his cock pressing eagerly against your thigh.

He doesn’t rush, no matter how much you claw at him or try to rock your hips at a faster pace. He just watches you, the way your lashes flutter and your body trembles with need.

His own pleasure is irrelevant right now. To Caleb, you’re the only thing in the world worth worshiping. And if he has his way, he’ll spend every day leaving physical reminders of his devotion to you.

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[yansolivan]

Going to Marry You — Caleb x Reader/MC

summary : While packing stuff up for summer break, Caleb found a box full of stuff you kept from your shared childhood; what you never noticed, though, was a text written behind a polaroid of yours from Caleb himself when he was just ten.

setting : alternate universe – college/university

contents : no use of y/n, pure fluff, use of pipsqueak, best friends in love, soulmates, roommates, childhood friends, oblivious friends, caleb is a sweet boy, mention of young caleb and mc, secret proposal, no confessions.

1,3k words – one shot

You were supposed to be packing things up. Summer break was about to start and you had to knock it all out in one afternoon. You and Caleb split the boxes, tossed the junk, even argued about who would have kept the shared toaster neither of you bought.

But Caleb has little attention span when it comes to tidying up the place, and he soon was off-task again. You looked up from your folded clothes just in time to see him disappear inside your closet, drawn by something unknown to you.

Some shuffling, a dull thud and a murmured ‘shit’ later made you wonder what, exactly, was he doing in there. “Need help?” You asked. “Nope!” It came casual — too casual for your liking.

You rolled your eyes and went back to sort through your socks drawer. Then Caleb is finally back from his strange mission holding a dusty cardboard box with scribbles all over it — rainbows, stick figures (strangely resembling you and the man holding the box), tiny suns with smileys faces.

Your breath stopped. You knew that box a little too well. Caleb, on the other hand, was grinning like a little kid who just found buried treasure. “Is this yours, pips?” He asked, making you gulp unconsciously. Of course it was, and he knew that; your name was written all over it.

“Where did you find that?” Was the first thing you said about the box, heart beating fast in your chest. “Back of the closet. Tucked behind some old clothes.” He answered calmly, a smile on his lips.

You sat up on your heels, the suitcase now completely forgotten. “I thought I left it at home.” He dropped the box gently in front of you both, sitting legs crossed next to you, knees bumping you. “Guess you didn’t.” He chuckled in a soft voice.

The lid creaked when you opened it, some dust rising and catching in the sunlight like glitters. There probably were some glitters as well in there.

Inside there were all sorts of memories: old photos of you and Caleb, crumpled movie tickets, one plastic friendship bracelet — you remember putting it there because you were scared of losing it after you lost three other bracelets in a row, while Caleb still wore it — a charm from a carnival prize, notes in really terrible handwriting folded like origami. You smiled at the sight of all those simple objects, every single one of them remembering you of a specific day with Caleb in your life.

“You made this in fourth grade.” He said with a smile, grabbing a little clay duck with one googly eye missing, lumpy and uneven. “I dropped it in the sink.” You laughed at the memory, remembering how sad you were.

“And I rescued it. You cried a lot.” He laughed as well, making you blush a bit. Knowing you cried was one thing, but him remembering it embarrassed you. “I did not cry!” You tried to protest, knowing it was false.

You glared at him, cheeks red from embarrassment as you tried your best not to smile at how stupidly attractive he was being right now. “You’re lucky I like you.” He just chuckled at you.

Caleb lifted a polaroid from the box, squinting at it in the golden light from the sunset outside. It was the two of you on a summer afternoon years ago — grinning, arms around each other, faces smeared with ice cream. You probably were around nine or ten in that photo. He suddenly flipped it over, as if knowing that something was there, and damn was he right.

There was a note on the back, written with a coloured pen with a crooked handwriting. “im going to marry you when we grow up!”. Your breath stopped while Caleb he remembered what he had written back then and froze. “Oh my god.”

You snatched the polaroid from him, reading the phrase over and over again. You were embarrassed, yes, but Caleb was embarrassed as well — if not even more — as the tip of his ears turned pink. “You weren’t supposed to keep it.” He murmured, looking away from you as you continued to read that phrase.

“I kept everything, Caleb.” You said back, still a little stunned from the sudden revelation. How come you never noticed it was a mystery. He shrugged, trying to play it off and sound casual even as he was clearly anxious. “I was serious, you know. Back then.” He murmured, eyes locked on the suddenly interesting ceiling.

You stared at the photo some more. The writing, his name signed underneath the phrase. A strange ache welled up in your chest as you spoke again, softer this time. “You never told me.”

“I thought you knew and ignored it.” The silence stretched as neither of you knew what else to say. Surely, it was a silly thing, said when you were both young and stupid, but for some unknown reason it felt real and serious. Time goes still inside the apartment, while outside a car passed, people laughed and children ran free.

Caleb shifted beside you, voice even lower now. “I was a dumb kid back then.” Noticing how he was retreating, you risked to look up at him with wide eyes. He wasn’t looking at you — his eyes were fixed on the photo as if afraid that it would disappear if he looked away. His finger curled a little tighter into fists.

Finally, you found the courage to speak again. “You’re still serious?” It was meant to be a joke to break the ice, but it only came out quiet — and real, too real.

He finally looked back at you, eyes soft with a hint of surprise at your question. “Never stopped being serious.”

Your chest squeezed. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. Caleb was your best friend since you could remember; he was the one you always called whenever your day went sideways; the first one you texted when anything — anything — happened. He knew everything about you, just as you knew everything about him.

You never even thought of asking yourself what any of it meant. Or maybe, inside you, you did — you just pretended to not know. Because you always noticed how your heart beat faster when he’s close to you, how your eyes often fell on his lips, how you craved his touch on you, even if just for a caress. And once again, your eyes unconsciously fell on his lips as you searched for anything to say back to him.

He smiled softly, noticing your internal turmoil — he always noticed. “You don’t have to say anything, pips.” You blinked, confusion etched on your face as your eyes locked down with his again. “Caleb–“ “It’s okay.” He interrupted you, too quickly. “I didn’t say it expecting anything. It’s just…” He gestured towards the box. “There’s no need to hide it when it’s clearly written down forever, y’know.” He chuckled softly, but this time you don’t smile back.

The sunlight shifted, making everything feel more intimate and soft. More yours. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes — he always did — and something else, something scared and hopeful. You remembered every time he was next to you, every shared blanket, every time he offered his shoulder for you to cry, every time he looked at you a second longer than a best friend would without saying a words after.

You leaned forward, your forehead finding his shoulder as you closed your eyes. Caleb tensed under you before exhaling, a shaky breath. Neither of you spoke for a long time, but his hand found your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

Outside, the sun almost disappeared under the rooftops of other houses, making the room dusky — quiet, filled only with the sounds of your breathing, synced like always. You always considered him your soulmate.

His free hand found yours on the carpet, fingers brushing against yours before curling into place like they always did when you needed him. He squeezed your hands once — you squeezed back immediately, making him smile.

He closed his eyes as well, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while inhaling your sweet scent. “My soulmate.” He whispered in your ear, soft and sweet, and you smiled. “Only yours.”

[yansolivan]

恋与深空 — Love and Deepspace

LI’s Love Languages — all LI x you (drabble)

Caleb — Xia Yizhou (夏以昼)

Faking It, Feeling It — Caleb x reader (1,3k)

Between the Lines — Caleb x reader (3,5k)

Going to Marry You — Caleb x reader (1,3k)

Filthy Clothes — Caleb x fem!reader (1,6k)

Work of Art — Caleb x fem!reader (7,4k)

Sylus — Qin Che (秦彻)

The Girl in Red — Sylus x fem!reader (2,2k)

[yansolivan]

Filthy Clothes — Caleb x fem!Reader/MC

summary : You provoked him your whole life, wearing provocative clothes around him and putting yourself in questionable positions, probably convinced that he would never snap. Oh, how wrong you were. Because his patience can only last for so long, and brats deserve to get disciplined.

setting : alternate universe — canon divergence (no explosion, no EVER)

contents : no use of y/n, use of Gege, pipsqueak and honey, spanking, bratty MC, fingering with gloves, they are NOT together – just freaky, kinda friends with benefits?, porn with VERY little plot, use of ‘good girl’, improper use of gravity evol, he talks A LOT, fingers in mouth, squirting, mention of come eating, aftercare.

1,5k words – one shot

Caleb never was into spanking. He thought it was weird and maybe a bit too much; he was more of a vanilla person, especially during his first college years. And yet, as time passed and you became more and more of a brat towards him, his patience was starting to crumble and the thought of putting you in your place didn’t sound so bad.

At home, you would purposely wear shorts that could be easily considered underwear, go around the house with tank tops with no bra underneath, bend over every surface you could right in front of him; were you really expecting him to keep silent forever? Because he was not going to. When you were little teenagers he would tell himself that it was completely normal and that he was the pervert one, but as you both grew up he started to notice how you looked at him, as if waiting for him to do everything to you. To wreck you.

His patience broke when, after he came back home from work — colonel uniform still on — you walked around the house in a miniskirt. But that wasn’t completely the problem; the problem was the fact that you wore no panties underneath the skirt, and he noticed that when you bent over the couch to reach for the TV remote. His eyes locked on your bare pussy and he could swear you were also wet. Slowly, but with firm steps, he walked towards you until his hips met yours, his gloved hands on your waist.

“You need some help, pips?” He asked in a low tone, making sure that you felt him behind you. A surprised gasp escaped your lips as you felt his clothed cock against your bare pussy, your teeth catching your bottom lip to shut up. “No, it’s okay Gege.” You answered, grabbing the remote as you tried to get up again, but he pushed you to bend back down. “Not so fast.” He murmured, pushing his hips against yours. “What were you thinking for wearing such a thing?”

One of his hand slowly moved from your waist, all over your back and shoulders to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and gently pulling it, making your head rise. His chest was pressed against your back now, his voice in your ear. “Were you trying to get my attention, pips?”

You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips as his words registered in your head. You were hoping for such a reaction, but you didn’t actually think he would snap. You didn’t even answer him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction even as your body spoke volumes for you.

Noticing how you weren’t answering him, he pushed you back down and raised your miniskirt, your ass and pussy now on clear display for him to see. Before you could think of anything to say, you felt a sting on your ass that made you moan loudly, eyes rolling back. You were not expecting him to spank you, but gods did it feel good.

“Caleb!” You exclaimed, walls clenching around nothing as you got wetter. You couldn’t see him in the face, but you knew he was smirking. He continued to grind his hips against yours before another slap reached your ass, another loud moan echoing in the living room. “Such a naughty girl.” He said, hand now caressing your red cheek to ease some of the pain. “If you wanted my attention, you could have just asked properly.” Another slap, followed by another moan. Your heart was beating so fast from excitement, eyes rolling back at every slap while you secretly tried to reach for your clit, only for Caleb to grab your wrist and stop you. “What were you trying to do, honey?” He chuckled darkly; then he stepped back before sitting on the couch, manspreading as he patted his lap for you to sit on him.

You admired him for a while, noticing how his eyes were visibly darker and full of lust, how his biceps looked even bigger than usual, his chest and abdomen tense and his cock clearly strained by his pants now too tight for him. It made your mouth water, but as he tilted his head to the side you came back to reality and laid down on his lap, ass up for him. The miniskirt was now around your waist, doing barely anything to cover you; not that you cared at all.

His hand caressed the curves of your ass gently, letting the sting fade before another slap made you moan. Your hips instinctively jerked down, your clit brushing against his clothed thigh. The fact that he was still wearing his colonel uniform made you wetter, walls clenching around absolutely nothing. The chuckle he gave was more felt than heard, chest rumbling as his free hand reached yours breast over the thin tank top, nipples already hardened. You breathed out at the sensation, closing your eyes as you completely trusted him with your body.

The edge of Caleb’s lips curved up in a smirk, seeing you so trusting and turned on. “Want me to keep my gloves on, honey?” The question made you whimper pathetically, simply nodding as images of him fingering you with his gloves on flooded your mind. Those thoughts were interrupted by another slap, moans escaping your mouth. “Use your words.”

“Yes– Yes keep them on, Caleb.” You blabbered, earning a smile and caresses on your reddened cheek. “Good girl.” Now you were really starting to notice how empty you felt. “Caleb…” You whined, hips gently humping against his thigh as you searched for a bit of pleasure. He didn’t say anything, but you could soon feel the weight of gravity pressing down on you, making you stop your pace. He was using his evol, bastard. Another whine escaped your mouth, but before you could complain, his fingers grazed your slick folds, earning a gasp.

“So wet just from some spanking…” He mocked you, clothed fingers teasing you but not entering yet. “Is this what you wanted all these years, honey? You wanted me to punish you for walking around with little to no clothes?” His tone was dangerous, heightening your arousal. “Yes.” You whispered, biting your lip when you felt his index finger closer to your entrance.

“You could have just asked.” His finger suddenly entered you, making you whine. It wasn’t nearly enough, but at least that was something. The glove’s material felt good against your walls and the slick made it easier for him. “Instead you provoked me. Walking around like a pretty slut.” He continued talking — now adding a second finger, but still almost not moving at all. “Yes…” You admitted shamefully, even more turned on than before as he explicitly exposed your plan.

“It worked.” Were his last words before his long fingers started steadily pumping in and out inside you, You were so wet the action made squelching sounds as you blushed deeply. You were pathetically turned on by all of this and you knew he noticed it — and probably loved it, if the boner under you meant anything.

Caleb’s pace changed, getting faster and rougher as he found out the spot that made you whine louder than before. “Such a pretty cunt…” He whispered, his other hand rolling your clothed nipple between his fingers. His evol was still pressing down on you, stopping you from humping his leg and bringing you more pleasure than he was already. “Fuck– Caleb…” His name was repeated like a prayer, a mantra as your orgasm reached you rapidly. “Caleb! Caleb wait-“ You tried to warn him, but he just put two fingers down your throat — careful to not make you gag, but harsh enough to shut you up.

With his fingers now in your mouth — blocking your voice — and his evol — keeping you still on his lap —you could only moan shamelessly until you reached your orgasm, juice all over his hand and lap as you squirted on him. At the sight, Caleb only groaned, his cock painfully hard in his pants. He wanted to eat you out just to drink that. He craved to taste you — and after all your provocations those years, he was going to get what he wanted.

“Shh… Good girl, you did so good.” He whispered gently, fingers exiting you from both your used holes as he grabbed you and made you sit properly on him. His hands caressed your sides as his lips covered your face with kisses, focusing mainly on your tears stained cheeks. “So good. My pretty girl.” You smiled at those words, still drunk on your orgasm — and still turned on at the feeling of him rock hard underneath you.

“Caleb…” You whispered, making him chuckle from how dazed you sounded. “I know honey, don’t worry.” He reassured you, giving you time to come back to your senses. He was going to ruin you for anyone else soon enough, but for now he wanted you to feel safe and comfortable.

©yansolivan • Do NOT copy or publish anywhere else. Translations allowed as long as you ask me first and credit me.

warning divider credit @cafekitsune

[yansolivan]

[scenario/drabble] say it again

LIs react when you say their name, but not the one you usually call them by. (They love it. SO much.)

Genre: Fluff, TW: suggestiveness

(Note: HC all the LADS men are at least bilingual/trilingual for work purposes or just bc they've lived long enough)

SYLUS

The rain hits the glass panels like a scatter of beads, the curtains of dense raindrops draping over the N109 zone late at night.

Seeing that it is a slow night for Sylus, you decide to try your idea out.

His glass of whiskey pauses halfway to his lips when you pronounce "Qín Chè" with perfect inflection.

The ice cubes clink as he slowly sets it down.

"Now that," he purrs, rising from his chair with a predatory grace, "is a dangerous thing to know."

In your next breath, he appears in a cloud of black-red mist, leaning down to you with a hand in his pocket.

"Did you research me that thoroughly? Or..." His breath ghosts your ear, "have you been hiding secrets?"

When you admit to practicing, he chuckles. "Even more dangerous. Now I'll have to teach you all the ways I want to hear my name...in private."

And so you learn, saying his name like a prayer while his lips graze over your neck and his arms keep you pressed close to him. Soon, your attempts are swallowed by his hungry kisses, and lost between stuttered breaths.

The next night, he makes you do it all over again.

_____

XAVIER

The way back home is quiet, crowds dwindling quickly after dinner hours in the dreary weather. It's still drizzling, but you're under a covered walkway for this stretch of the walk.

There's a comfortable silence between you and Xavier, and you decide to test something out.

"Shěn Xīnghuí," you say softly, watching the light reflect in his widened eyes like stars.

"You...know." The way he says it makes you realize this isn't just about language- you've spoken a name he thought he'd never hear you say in this lifetime.

He takes both your hands, holding them delicately as he moves closer to you. "Say it again," he whispers.

You repeat his name, louder this time. The night suddenly feels sacred as the syllables hang between you.

He doesn't speak, only brushes his thumb lightly over your knuckles as he looks at you the way a stargazer would observe a meteor shower.

Then you feel the slightest squeeze on your hands.

“Let's head back quickly,” he says, moving to keep a hand on your waist on the way home. He turns to press a quick kiss to your temple. “Now that I know you can say my name this way… I won't let you stop at just saying it twice.”

_____

ZAYNE

When you pass by the reception desk at the cardiology ward, You wave to the nurses on your way in and greet Zayne in a sing-song voice.

It's a phrase you practiced, over and over in front of a mirror.

“Lí Shēn, I'm here~ I'll just leave your lunchbox on the table,”

His gaze snaps to you.

The receptionist nurse freezes as their usually unflappable chief surgeon stares at you like you've grown a second head.

"...That pronunciation is very precise," he finally says, clicking his pen shut and taking some charts from the shelf.

Later, in his office, he has you trapped against the table. He's careful not to make noise, his steps slow and deliberate until the back of your legs are pressed up against the cool wooden surface.

"Who taught you that?" He asks quietly.

You blink. He seems almost too calm- like he's trying hard not to let something irritate him. Something is simmering in his gaze, but it's one of those times where you can't quite place your finger on what it is.

“Well- I remember knowing you had a different name, but I just never actually asked you about it even after all this time-” You explain, “It came up when I went over the university alumnae list-”

“Are you a personal investigator now?” He says, inching even closer to you.

“I was just… sorry, I shouldn't have called you by another name in the hospital,”

He exhales, the hint of a smile gracing his sharp features. “No- don't apologize, my love. I have no reason to be unhappy-” When he wraps his arms around you, the tension in your cautious stance melts into familiar warmth.

The slightly coarse fabric of his doctor's coat rubs against your face, but you snuggle closer.

“-However,” he continues, voice low, “My private investigator, I can't let you leave just yet.”

He keeps you locked in place with a hand around your waist. “I have five minutes until my ward round. If you're ever going to say my name like that again..." His lips brush yours, "you'll do it where I can properly appreciate it."

_____

RAFAYEL

The name you learned isn't Lemurian- it's something you came across in a luxury-lifestyle magazine interview done years ago that lay forgotten inside one of his storage crates. You had gone to your friend and asked them to help with the pronunciation, and practiced till you could say it naturally within conversations.

"Qí Yù! Is this a new piece of artwork?" You call across the studio.

"Yeah it- WHAT DID YOU JUST-?!" He leaps over the couch.

"Say that again," he demands, gripping your shoulders.

When you repeat it with a grin, he gasps.

"You've been holding out on me! Oh, you say my name so wonderfully," He gushes with a smile so dazzling it would put the glittering sunset ocean to shame.

"Wait." He squints. "Did Thomas teach you? I'LL KILL HIM-"

You have to physically restrain him from storming off, and his arm almost slips between your grip.

“Rafayel! No, it's just me- I read in an old interview that you had a different name and-”

“So you've been reading about me- when you can just ask me anything?” He pouts.

You blink. “How would I even begin to know you have different names?”

He puts his hands on his hips, seemingly acknowledging an impasse.

Then he sighs and opens his arms wide. “Come here, cutie,”

His scent envelopes you as you sink into his embrace, and he rubs circles into your back.

His voice is lower when he speaks, “I will take a break now- I need some inspiration from you.”

_____

CALEB

It's rare that you ever tag along to Caleb's gym sessions. Aside from schedules never aligning, you always knew his workout routine was rigorous and intense, so you wouldn't want to distract him.

Apart from that, he is also a huge source of distraction to you.

Right now, he's doing shoulder presses while seated on the gym bench, looking absolutely distracting. The stair master machine faces the mirror, giving you a clear view of him.

There's no way you can complete your usual routine, so you approach him.

Time to call it a day at the gym.

"Xià Yǐzhòu," you call out.

His dumbbells wobble mid-air.

"Holy-" He braces himself and rights his grip, bringing the dumbbells back down to rest them on his knees.

When he looks up, his expression does something complicated. "...Haven't heard that in a while," he murmurs, placing the dumbbells on the floor and rubbing his neck.

There's a vulnerability in his eyes you rarely see. “What happened to ‘Caleb’?” he asks.

When you explain your practice sessions, his boyish grin returns.

"Well damn, pips."

He tackles you into a hug that nearly has you topple over- but he catches you. With the way he's looking at you now, you're glad the gym is quiet. Even after being with him, he never fails to get your pulse soaring with his stupid, rugged charm.

“Ew, Caleb your sweat-”

“I don't recall you having a problem with that last night,” he murmurs, holding you closer.

“Caleb, I swear-” You jab at his sides with your fingers, scrambling to find an excuse to get him to stop teasing, “I'm sweaty too, it's gross.”

It almost works. He squirms, but his grip doesn't loosen in the slightest.

“Xià Yǐzhòu-”

He hums contentedly, patting your hair to placate you, "Thaaaat's more like it. Now gotta hear that every morning."

His whisper turns teasing, "And every night. Especially when you're begging me to-" You clap a hand over his mouth.

“Caleb!”

He kisses your palm, then gently takes your hand from his face.

“Call me the other name again and I'll let you go,”

_____

Edit: (note: their chinese names are so beautiful and poetic and suits their characterisation/personalities so well I cant even begin to describe how much I love ! !! And especially the exact words/characters chosen for their names too where my multilingual stans at!!! OK incoherent vent over thank u all for reading <3)

[yansolivan]

Faking It, Feeling It — Caleb x Reader/MC

summary : When Caleb agreed to be your fake boyfriend at your ex’s birthday party, it was supposed to be harmless. Some acting, stolen kisses when people were watching to sell the illusion. But those stolen glances, touches and kisses felt somewhat more real than they should have been. You didn’t care, though. Maybe this whole fake dating thing was going to be successful.

setting : alternate universe - university/college

contents : no use of y/n, fake dating, jealous MC, no gender MC, oblivious feelings, lots of kissing, kissing practice, kinda wholesome, use of pipsqueak, complete fluff if not for some tension here and there.

1,3k words - one shot

Caleb always knew about your strange situations with boys; since high school, you never found someone who was willing to accept your peculiar friendship with Caleb. Of course, you knew how it looked from outside — many people often told you both that you would make the perfect couple, and sometimes you thought that too.

So, after your last relationship ended brutally because he was an immature boy who couldn’t stand being two meters away from you, you didn’t expect him to invite you to his birthday party.

You sighed deeply as you read the message again and again. It had been almost six months since you broke up and you really were over him already — not that it was so hard with Caleb next to you — but you didn’t expect something like that. And you knew that, if you went alone, he would only try to get back together with you. So you did what had already happened once: asked Caleb to be your fake boyfriend for the night.

The last time it happened was during Caleb’s graduation, where he asked you to be his fake partner to avoid getting jumped on by some random girls who had a crush on him. You immediately accepted, not really happy about some annoying girls trying to pull Caleb away from you.

“So you need my help, pips?” he asked with a smirk, loving to hear you say that you needed him. It made him proud.

“Yeah, I don’t want to reject him again during his birthday, so I might as well act like I have a boyfriend to make him stay distant.” you sighed again, looking up at your best friend with a pout and big puppy eyes. “I’ve already helped you once, so you should return the favour!”

Honestly, you didn’t need to convince him. He was more than glad to be your fake boyfriend for a whole night, and you knew it: it was clear in how his eyes sparkled with mischief.

What you didn’t expect, though, was him asking to practice kissing.

“What?” you asked, confusion clear on your face. He chuckled, a bit of blush appearing on his ears. “I said, we should practice kissing. It’ll be suspicious if we never kiss during the whole night.” his eyes left yours for some seconds — seconds during which you were completely silent. Then, an embarrassed chuckle.

“Fine” you said and you could swear his eyes lit up once again.

That’s how you found yourself straddling his lap, arms around his neck as you both looked at each other in the eyes. The lap part wasn’t really part of the plan, but you insisted that it created more intimacy and made it easier for you both. His hands were only grazing your hips, in case you somehow fell, but never actually touched you. The air around you was dense with tension as your lips brushed his, your breath tickling him.

Despite being his idea, it was you who initiated the kiss, your lips clumsily moving against his in a silly kiss. After the first hesitation, Caleb returned your kiss with a chuckle at your inexperience despite having been in more relationships than him.

You broke the kiss only to glance down at him, a blush spread all over your pretty face. He chuckled again, the vibration in his chest spreading a warm sensation in your chest as you relaxed more in his arms. This was just practice, yes. To avoid your ex annoying you tonight. Totally understandable. And normal… Yeah.

Caleb tilted his head to the side, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of uncertainty, but as he saw none, he closed the gap between you both, kissing you more intensely than you did before, guiding your lips against his with care. His hands finally — finally — really grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him until you were chest to chest. You gasped in the kiss before laughing softly, your hands finding his hair and playing with a strand. It all felt strangely familiar and new at the same time, making your head spin.

It wasn’t the first time you kissed. When you were little kids, you asked him how to kiss someone and he said that only he could be your first kiss. That’s how he later found your little self clumsily kissing him before crossing your arms on your chest and pouting at him.

The second time happened during high school, when you were both frustrated and confused about your feelings. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him angrily after a girl flirted with him right in front of you.

This was now your third time and it still felt like the first, butterflies in your stomach as you broke the kiss to breathe again. Caleb’s eyes were still closed as he rested his forehead against yours, a smile on his lips. “You still kiss like the first time, pips.” he mocked you and it made you roll your eyes, but honestly you loved how he always remembered everything about you. “And you’re still annoying as before.” you remarked, earning a low chuckle that made you blush.

The sound of your phone ringing brought you back to reality, eyes widening as the alarm you set to remind you of the even went on. Caleb released your hips and helped you get down his lap, even if you could feel him being more tense than usual. You thought it was only your imagination, though, so you brushed it off as you walked upstairs to get ready for the party.

The music was soft, people were laughing and chatting together, low lights casting a soft glow around everyone. It wasn’t a messy party — actually, it was really comfortable and relaxing. If only you could relax. You and Caleb had been glued to each other’s side all night, smiling, touching and whispering words that are meant to be jokingly flirty, but only felt intimate.

A friend of yours passed by with a smirk, ready to tease you both. “Still in the honeymoon phase I see.” they chuckled, earning a roll of your eyes and a chuckle from Caleb. “What can I say. Can’t keep my hands off my pips.” he said, almost too confidently to be fake. It was supposed to be a joke, but his hand stayed wrapped around your waist tightly even after your friend left you alone again.

After a while, the music shifted to something slower, more relaxed, as couples filled the dance floor. You looked up at Caleb with a mischievous smirk before grabbing his hand and pulling him on the dance floor as well. “We don’t need to–” he tried to protest, but you interrupted him. “People are watching. Let’s give them a show.”

So you start to dance together, his hands still on your waist as yours reached his neck. You were so close you could feel every breath Caleb took, barely speaking to each other as your eyes locked with his. Suddenly, he broke the silence with a whisper. “You’re good at this.” You tilted your head, smiling. “Dancing? Or faking it?”

Caleb showed a bit of hesitation before chuckling, voice low and measured. “Both.”

He noticed how people were looking at you dancing and decided to put on a show, slowly getting closer to give you time to back off in case you felt uncomfortable — before kissing you in the middle of the dance floor. You immediately returned the kiss as if it was second nature for you, and that made Caleb crave even more. This whole fake dating thing was starting to make you greedy and he noticed as well.

When you broke the kiss, you both smiled at each other, people around you now forgotten. “You’re getting better at kissing, but we might need some more practice when we get back home.” he mocked you in a whisper and — if usually you would have hit him on the arm — this time you chuckled and nodded. “Fine by me.”

Looks like this whole fake dating thing was going to be prolonged for a while. And you didn’t mind one bit.

[yansolivan]

[yansolivan]

The Girl in Red — Sylus x Reader/MC

summary : In the shadows of Linkon City, Sylus rules empires. Cold, untouchable — except by you. His fiancée: wild, stunning, and impossible to outmanoeuvre. When a girl in red crosses a line, it isn’t Sylus who handles it. It’s you. Quiet vengeance. No chaos. Just removal. Because in this city, red means danger — and you are the one who defines it.

setting : alternate universe - canon divergence

contents : no use of y/n, possessive behaviour, jealous mc, kinda toxic mc, but sylus loves it, manipulation, blackmailing, toxic x toxic, sylus kisses the ground mc steps on, girlboss mc.

2,2k words - one shot

Sylus was cold, unreadable, feared in the N109 Zone, but also in Linkon City. He ruled boardrooms and backrooms alike, having earned his title of the leader of Onychinus.

And you? His fiancée. Too wild to tame, too stunning to ignore. Only Sylus could handle your fire — barely.

One afternoon he lounged in his house, vodka in hand, eyes on nothing. Suddenly, his phone rang.

“Mr. Sylus, we’re calling to confirm nearly $13.8 million in transactions: Graff, Dior, Chanel, Hermès, Cartier, and a painting from Sotheby’s.”

He exhaled softly, amused. “Just my jealous fiancée.”

He knew you saw the woman in red during last night’s transaction — her hand on his shoulder, her laugh too sweet. You didn’t cause a scene on the moment. You went shopping.

“You’re not concerned, sir?”

“Concerned?” he echoed. “No. Let her burn the rest if she wants.”

He hung up, unbothered.

Minutes later, you walked in, flawless, quiet. Staff followed with boxes — gowns, diamonds, art. Not bought out of need, but out of fury masked in elegance. You thanked them as the men exited the room, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Sylus glanced up. Smirked even, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Done already?”

You tilted your head, unsmiling. The heels you wore echoed like gunshots on the marble floor as you stepped closer, your presence demanding. A force — not loud, but absolute.

“Didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you replied, voice silken, dangerous.

Sylus chuckled low, setting the glass down on the table beside him. “How considerate.”

You tossed your purse onto the sofa, then peeled off your gloves one finger at a time, as if each movement were a message. I saw. I know. I’m choosing how this plays out.

“I ran into the twins on my way in,” you said, eyes scanning the untouched drink he poured himself. “They told me you canceled your trip last minute. Why?”

Sylus leaned back, lazy and leonine. “The deal changed. So did my priorities.”

You stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until you stood between his legs, arms crossed on your chest. “And what are your priorities now?”

His gaze met yours — sharp, calculating, a fire hidden behind frost. He trailed his fingers up your thigh, stopping at the hem of your dress. “You. Always have been.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Then I suggest you start acting like it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this about the girl in red?”

“No,” you replied, reaching into your bag. From it, you pulled a folded document — thick, expensive paper. You dropped it in his lap. “It’s about respect.”

Sylus didn’t look at it right away. He stared at you, trying to read the storm behind your calm.

“Are you threatening me?”

“I don’t threaten,” you said coolly. “I remind.”

A pause stretched between you. Finally, he opened the paper — a deed transfer. One of his prized properties, now in your name.

“How?” he asked, intrigued. It didn’t bother him, at all . It only made him love you even more.

You turned away, walking toward the window. “Don’t forget who taught me the game, Sylus.”

He laughed — genuine, deep. “That’s why I chose you.”

You turned back, the city lights behind you, casting you in gold. “You didn’t choose me. You earned me. Keep earning me, or lose more than just your money.”

His smirk faded just a little. Not fear. But something close to respect.

Then he stood. Walked to you. Pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Marry me tomorrow.”

You didn’t flinch. “Not until you make the girl in red disappear.”

He nodded once. “Done.”

Sylus’ promise hung in the air like cigar smoke—rich, lingering, impossible to ignore.

Done he’d said. So easily. But nothing was ever that simple with him.

You didn’t smile. Not yet. You studied his face — sharp, angular, devastatingly calm. He wasn’t just cold-blooded; he chose to be. That was the difference between Sylus and every other power-hungry bastard in Linkon City. The others pretended. Sylus was .

“You say that,” you murmured, walking past him toward the bar. “But how many girls in red have there been, Sylus?”

You poured yourself a drink, not asking — never asking. You weren’t the type to seek permission, not in life, not in love, and especially not in war disguised as romance.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he watched you, eyes tracking your every move like a panther stalking prey he already owned but still enjoyed hunting.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he said finally, his voice low, even.

“No,” you agreed, swirling the drink. “You just manipulate the truth until it forgets what it used to be.”

A silence stretched between you, not awkward, just filled with things that neither of you wanted to say first.

The city below was alive. The N109 Zone was always pulsing, electric. But in this building, the world narrowed to just two souls: yours and Sylus’. Twin flames wrapped in ice and gold, circling each other like wolves around a fire.

He stepped closer, closing the distance until your back was nearly against the bar.

“Why didn’t you confront me last night?”

You sipped your drink before replying. “Because she wasn’t worth my voice. But I wanted you to know I saw. And I wanted you to feel it.”

His hand grazed your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek in a touch so intimate it definitely belonged to a lover, reminding you just how he chose you even when he could have thousands of ‘girls in red’.

“I felt it,” he admitted. “Every time the notifications hit. Every million. Every brand. You made sure I did.”

You shrugged lightly. “Then I achieved my goal.”

He smiled — slow, dark, the kind that made men confess and women ruin themselves.

“I missed this side of you,” he said. “The sharp edge. You’ve been too quiet lately.”

“Maybe I was waiting to see if you’d remember who I am without me having to remind you.”

He studied you, then leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I remember. Every damn second.”

You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. You let him speak, let him linger, and then stepped out of his reach with elegance.

“Then act like it. Because next time, I don’t shop. I dismantle.”

The air pulsed.

He poured himself another vodka, the bottle sweating on the counter. His voice was cool when he asked, “What do you want?”

“I want the girl gone. I want your loyalty — not the kind you parade at charity galas or press conferences, but the kind that bleeds. The kind that kneels.”

“You want me on my knees?”

You turned to face him fully. “Only if you plan on staying there.”

A flash in his eyes — half-lust, half-worship. You’d always made him feel like the world wasn’t big enough to contain the both of you. And he loved it.

“I can give you everything,” he said.

“I don’t want everything,” you said. “I want what matters.”

He nodded. “Then you’ll have it. But you need to meet me halfway.”

You arched a brow. “Define halfway.”

His eyes darkened. “A seat at the table. Not just my table — our table. Onychinus has room for one queen.”

You froze — not out of shock, but calculation.

You’d always been the shadow beside his throne. Whispers of you spread through the N109 Zone — how you controlled him with a look, how you had your own networks, your own loyalists in his ranks. But this? This was different.

“You want me in Onychinus?”

“I want you beside me in Onychinus.”

You were silent for a beat. Then: “I want access to the vault. Full authority over intel. And I pick my own operatives.”

“Done.”

“And,” you said, stepping forward again, voice dropping into something velvet and lethal, “I want your men to know. I’m not the woman behind the man. I’m the storm he walks with.”

He tilted his head, admiring you like art — expensive, terrifying, divine.

“They’ll know.”

You clinked your glass against his. “Then let’s begin.”

They called her Cira.

Glossy, young, ambitious. She wore the red dress like a challenge — a direct provocation. She didn’t just flirt with danger, she believed she could tame it. That was her first mistake.

She never knew she’d been marked from the moment her fingers grazed Sylus’s shoulder at the Black Vellum auction.

She mistook your silence for weakness. Your lack of reaction for permission.

But in your world, silence was a blade. And permission? You didn’t ask for it. You either owned it or you buried those who didn’t respect it.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You didn’t curse his name or toss a drink across the room.

You played the long game. Silent. Cold. You watched. Studied. Waited.

You didn’t retaliate like a woman scorned. You retaliated like a queen dethroning a would-be imposter.

Cira’s name first came up in a whisper — one of Sylus’s informants, trying to earn your favor. Said she was angling for access, asking questions too boldly, lingering too long.

“She wants more than his attention,” the informant had said. “She wants proximity to power.”

You’d simply nodded.

And so you called in your favourites .

The Twins. Loyal. Unquestioning. They always helped you no matter what you asked them.

“She thinks she’s climbing the ladder,” you told them, crossing one leg over the other in the lounge. “I want her to realize she’s been walking into a cage.”

They understood without further explanation.

It began slowly.

First, Cira’s apartment — the one paid for by a quiet offshore account — was emptied. Not ransacked. Cleared . Like she’d never lived there. No damage, no mess. Just absence.

Then her phone. Replaced. Identical in look, indistinguishable in feel — except now, every text, call, and breath she took was monitored. You read every message before she did. You saw her desperation form in real-time.

Sylus hasn’t texted.

Has he said anything to you?

Maybe I should just show up again…

She was still playing the game like it was chess. Still believed she had time to recover.

So you took her queen.

Her job — a cushy “consulting” position funded by one of Sylus’s shell companies — vanished. Her keycard denied access. Her name no longer on the roster.

“Must be an error,” the receptionist said with a well-trained shrug. “HR’s been changing systems.”

Cira nodded, confused, unnerved, but not afraid. Not yet.

Then came the black envelope. No name. No return address.

Just a location. Midnight. The Black Parlor.

She showed up, dressed to impress. Red again. Of course.

She didn’t see the SUVs parked across the street. Didn’t notice the man inside the bar — Kieran — switch off the cameras with a tap on his phone.

She entered the private suite. It was empty, save for you.

You sat there — legs crossed, in a dress that whispered money and menace, lit by a single golden chandelier.

Cira blinked, confused, caught off guard.

“This is private,” she said, faltering.

“It is,” you replied. “Sit.”

Your voice wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be. You knew she would listen.

She sat.

You sipped your drink. Looked her over once, like she was something on a menu you hadn’t ordered.

“You touched what’s mine.”

She blinked. “I didn’t—”

“I’m not here to argue,” you said calmly. “I’m here to explain how this ends.”

Silence.

Cira shifted. “If this is about Sylus—”

“It’s not about Sylus,” you interrupted. “It’s about you . Thinking you could move in my world without permission. Thinking proximity meant immunity. Thinking the red dress made you dangerous.”

You stood. Walked toward her slowly.

“You walked into a room full of wolves wearing perfume and thought you were the hunter.”

Her face flushed. “I never meant—”

“I know exactly what you meant.”

You leaned in slightly, your voice silk over steel.

“So let me teach you something, Cira. In this city, power doesn’t seduce. It selects. And Sylus? He doesn’t select twice.”

She swallowed.

You circled her chair once, then slid a velvet box onto the table in front of her.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Your out.”

Inside: a plane ticket. One way. To a city halfway across the world. A bundle of cash. A burner phone.

“And if I don’t take it?” she asked.

You smiled, the first real smile all evening.

“Then I send the twins.”

Cira flinched — not because she knew them personally, but because she’d heard of them .

The kind of names whispered in corridors. The kind of ghosts who came after midnight and left no footprints.

“I suggest you take the box,” you said, voice kind but final. “It’s the last mercy I’m offering.”

Cira stood. Grabbed it. Didn’t speak again.

She left.

She didn’t cry when they took her. Sylus’ men were discreet — polite, even. But the message was clear: she’d touched what didn’t belong to her. She had forgotten the rules.

Sylus stood beside you as the girl left the room, expression unreadable.

“She didn’t think it would come to this,” he said quietly, though there was amusement in his voice.

“She didn’t think I would come,” you replied.

He looked at you, something close to awe in his expression.

“You’re terrifying.”

You smirked. “That’s why you love me.”

He didn’t argue. He just lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles like you were royalty — because you were.

The girl disappeared and the city didn’t even blink.

[yansolivan]

I headcanon that Caleb, your fiancé, your best friend, the man you’re about to marry, spends the weeks before your wedding day steeling himself not to cry when he sees you walk down the aisle.

He’s been practicing. Imagining it over and over in his head; your silhouette behind the chapel doors, the train of your gown, your eyes locked with his from across the room. Every time, he exhales sharply and tells himself, don’t cry. keep it together. He wants to be strong for you. Wants to be composed. He even jokes with Gideon, his best man, that he’s trained himself like a soldier in battle.

But when the day comes, when the music starts and the doors finally open, he forgets everything.

Because there you are.

Bathed in soft light, wearing white like a promise, veil fluttering gently behind you. Radiant. Ethereal. Yours.

And Caleb? Caleb’s breath catches. His eyes widen. His chest rises and falls too quickly. And before he even realizes it, tears are slipping down his cheeks. No speeches in the mirror or deep breaths could have prepared him for this. For you.

He presses a hand over his mouth like that might stop the sob building in his throat. Because in that moment, he knows, he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

And no amount of practice could've ever trained him not to cry for this. For you.

He just loves you so much.

[yansolivan]

imagine gideon calling you pip-squeak. 

he and caleb are walking you back from the movie theater when you trip on the stairs outside your building. “watch your step, pip-squeak,” he teases, chuckling lightly.

you get the ick for a second, but play it off with a groan. “ugh, not another one!”

and caleb agrees. not another one. he bristles as you both laugh, your leftover drink and popcorn in his hand when he’d really rather they be lodged in gideon’s esophagus. 

after making sure you’re okay, he hugs you goodbye and angles your body away from gideon, leveling his friend with an icy glare. when he speaks, though, his voice is jarringly tender. “goodnight, pip-squeak,” he says, patting your hair with those doting strokes of his. 

“goodnight,” you sigh into his chest, blissfully unaware of the psychological evisceration happening above you. 

when your apartment door shuts, caleb doesn’t even have to open his mouth before gideon speaks. “sorry, man.”

[yansolivan]

Between the Lines — Caleb x Reader/MC

summary : Caleb had loved her for years - decades, maybe. Quietly, carefully and always from a distance. He let her do anything she wanted with him: leaning on him, using him as a swatch for her lipsticks, holding his hands - even kissing him on the cheek during his graduation in front of everyone. And he didn't say a single word. Five times he almost confessed, but immediately took it back or brushed it off - until he didn't hide anymore.

setting : alternate universe - canon divergence (no explosion, no EVER)

contents : 5 + 1 times, love confession, romantic tension, sexual tension, oblivious reader, mutual pining, yearning caleb, childhood best friends, first kiss, no use of y/n.

3,5k words – one shot

The first time where Caleb almost confessed his was during their Sundays' film nights. She invited him over, as always, to watch their favourite show.

They were both sitting on the couch, lights off except for the soft glow coming from the television. Caleb had one arm wrapped around her waist, his thumb mindlessly rubbing in circles while she had her head nestled on his shoulder. Caleb slowly shifted in his seat, trying to make her feel more comfortable by resting her head on his firm chest, her hair tickling his chin as he rested it on her head.

Except for his heart beating a bit faster than usual, he was feeling fine; yes, maybe not completely focused on the show, but no strange feelings or needs to confess his love to her. That is until she unconsciously gripped his shirt in her sleep. That was enough for him to stop breathing for some seconds. He didn’t move, not for a long time, scared that if he did she would wake up and see how much of a mess he was.

His eyes were on the screen, but he couldn’t hear anything but her soft breathing, his mind spiralling with all the things he wanted to confess right there, when she was deep asleep and not able to hear him. Hesitating, he reached down enough to place a featherlight kiss on her head, his lips not moving from there as he closed his eyes, slowly inhaling her scent.

It made his body shiver as electricity rushed through his veins. His grip on her waist tightened just enough for him to realise he was losing control, so he pulled back enough to grab a blanket, shifting her so delicately that she could swear she was on a cloud and covering her.

After looking at her with a hint of a smile on his lips, he turned off the television and went back home, the cold air of the night helping him to calm down his racing heart.

The second time happened because of alcohol. Caleb wasn’t someone who drank too much, he barely touched the glass, and most of all he didn’t really like parties. That time he was there because she asked him, and how the hell was he supposed to tell her no? Especially when he knew guys would try to hit on her.

The party was too loud, too hot, and Caleb was already calculating how long he had to stay before he could leave without looking rude. He was halfway through nursing a warm non-alcoholic drink when he heard her laugh — that particular laugh she only did when she was tipsy: too loud and too bright.

Then she spotted him.

“Caleb!” she called out like she didn’t see him in weeks, even though they texted less than an hour before. She stumbled over, drink sloshing a little in her hand, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. She was a mess. A beautiful mess. A mess that Caleb loved with every fibre of his being.

Before he could say anything, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in. Thankfully his reflexes acted before his mind could think, catching her instinctively as his hands found her waist like second nature. Her body was soft and warm against his, smelling like vanilla and vodka and something distinctly her which always made his head spin.

“You’re my favorite person,” she mumbled, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. And his pulse stuttered. Her perfume was dizzying enough for him, but those words only melted his brain.

“Someone’s had fun tonight,” he said anyway, trying for lightness, trying not to read into the way she’s pressing into him like she belonged there. Like she wanted him even half as much as he craved her.

“Mmm,” she hums. “I missed you.” And he laughed under his breath, raising a brow at her. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him — barely inches between them. Only then Caleb realised how close they actually were and he had to physically contain a groan. Her pupils were blown wide, her gaze unfocused but soft. For a second, he let himself wonder. If she leaned in just a little more. If he closed that tiny gap. The words were ready in his throat, but that single second where he wondered if it could work was enough for her to change subject.

She giggled and said, “You’d be so good for Tara.” probably not even realising how stupid she sounded. He didn’t even speak to Tara that much.

His smile faltered, just a single second. She would have been able to notice it, if only she was sober. “Yeah?” She nodded, then rested her head on his shoulder like she had done it a thousand times. “You’re nice. You’d take care of her.”

He wrapped his arms around her more securely, holding her like she wasn’t unknowingly shattering him. “Thanks,” he said quietly. This girl really was an idiot. An oblivious idiot. And he loved every inch of her, even if it was infuriating sometimes.

Later, when she started to drift and her words slur together, he took her back home. He grabbed her a glass of water and some painkillers, knowing that the next day she would be tired and hurting. He made sure she ate something before tucking her up, ready for bed.

And when she texted him the next morning — “Thanks for looking out for me, Caleb. You’re the best” — he just replies:

— “Anytime, pipsqueak.” —

The third time was on the rooftop bar: loud, strung with fairy lights and buzzing with Friday night energy. Caleb was nursing his drink, half-listening to the conversation around him, when she sat beside him, effortlessly close. “Hey,” she said, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Come meet Jenna from work!”

He followed her across the rooftop, weaving through bodies and laughter, and landed in front of a tall girl with cool eyeliner and sharper face features. “This is Caleb,” she said, turning to introduce him, already grinning. “My best friend.”

Just like that.

Not “my favorite person” or “my partner in crime.” Just best friend — simple, easy, devastating. He smiled, though. Of course. He always did. And of course he knew that was exactly what they were, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Jenna smirked, as if she sensed something in Caleb’s behaviour. “Best friend, huh?” There was a hint of suggestion in her voice, the kind people always thought was harmless. Which it wasn’t, since Caleb’s heart stopped every single time.

“Oh my god,” she laughed, waving it off. “We’ve literally known each other forever. He’s like—family.” Something in Caleb’s chest tightens. Just enough to notice. But he quickly rolled his eyes playfully, if only his jaw didn’t tighten.

Jenna looked him over again, eyebrows raised. “You single?” And Caleb was caught off guard for a second, then recovered. “Yeah.”

“You should meet my roommate,” she said, probably innocently. “She could be kind of your type. Quiet, but cute and soft.” He catch her glance out of the corner of his eye — the one who called him family five seconds ago — but she was just sipping her drink while looking away, uninterested. He internally sighed before turning half his attention back to Janna.

Later, when they were walking back to the car alone, she looped her arm through his like she always did. Warm, casual, possessive in a way that doesn’t mean anything, of course.

She leaned in close, just enough for her hair to tickle his jaw, and whispered, “Jenna’s roommate’s not actually your type. Don’t let her set you up.” That made Caleb’s heart falter.

“Yeah?” he asked, not looking at her. His eyes were fixed in front of them, or otherwise he would have jumped on her right there and then. “No,” she said casually and smiled. “You don’t like soft, perfect girls.”

She didn’t know that it was her he had always been measuring everyone against. Didn’t know that, to him, perfection looked a lot like the way her voice dipped when she was sleepy. Or how she still waited for him to unlock the passenger door before getting in, like some kind of habit he never asked her to form.

He didn’t say any of that, of course. He just smiled like it didn’t matter. But his eyes spoke volumes, and he hoped that she wasn’t looking at him too closely.

After that, she leaned her head on his shoulder like nothing was wrong. And Caleb thought he was foolish for thinking that might mean anything.

The fourth time started like most nights did — casually. She texted him something dumb around midnight:

Pipsqueak <3

Why do all the guys I like turn out to be emotionally stunted or mildly cursed

Pipsqueak <3

Not you though. You’re the blueprint.

He grinned at his screen in the dark, lit only by the glow of the conversation. Of course he was; she just didn’t like him back. And he was fine with that.

You

Lucky me.

Pipsqueak <3

Unlucky me.

You’re the only one I can actually talk to and you’re not allowed to be THIS hot. It’s rude.

He typed out three different responses and deleted them all. How the hell was he supposed to answer to that. Finally, he simply decided to change subject.

You

Go to sleep.

Pipsqueak <3

Make me.

He knew she was laying in bed right now, messy bun slipping out, one leg under the blanket and one out, probably squinting at her phone with that half-drunk-on-sleep smile. The thought made his body shiver and a sigh escape his lips, closing his eyes as his mind was filled with scenarios where he finally shut her up like he really wanted to. But he had to regain control over himself quickly.

You

Seriously, you’re gonna pass out mid-sentence.

Pipsqueak <3

No I’m not. I’m not even tiredddddsdds

That was the last one for a while. He watched the typing bubble appear and disappear a few times, like something was on her keyboard. Probably she was trying to stay awake for him, but she didn’t succeed.

He hovered over the keyboard for way too long before typing something.

You

Sometimes I think I’m in love with you.

You

And sometimes I know.

He stared at those for a long, long time. Then deleted them. It was stupid and reckless and only the gods knew what could happen if she woke up and read them. Instead, he sent another one.

You

Night, trouble. Talk tomorrow.

The message marked as delivered, but not read. He sighed deeply as he placed his phone on the bedside table, groaning and biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He was going insane. He felt like he might explode anytime soon.

She texted back the next morning, bright and chipper. As if he didn’t literally confess his feelings.

Pipsqueak <3

Sorry if I passed out lol. You still there for brunch?

And of course he was.

The fifth time was probably his last straw. It started innocently, as it always did with her in his life.

She was getting ready for something — dinner with friends, maybe even a date (Caleb didn’t ask, not sure if he wanted to know the answer) — and her vanity was cluttered with open lipsticks and makeup brushes. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, scrolling aimlessly and pretending he was not watching her more than his screen.

She turned around suddenly, holding two lipstick tubes like a challenge. Caleb knew that look only meant troubles for his soft heart. “I need your face,” she says.

He lifted a brow, the phone already forgotten on the bed. “That’s… not terrifying at all.” She just grinned. “Don’t be dramatic! Your skin tone is close to mine, and I need to see which one looks better in natural light.”

Before he could even think of arguing, she straddled his legs and settled on his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world and not the hottest thing on earth. Caleb’s breath stopped, heart not beating anymore in his chest and, before he could realise it, then her hand was under his chin, tilting his face to the light. “Stay still.”

She swiped on the first lipstick on her lips — a deep red that made her look dangerous and impossible — and leaned in without hesitation. Her lips pressed softly to his right cheek, a perfect print blooming against his skin. She pulled back slightly, examining her work like a painter checking brushstrokes with a thoughtful look.

“Too harsh,” she murmured.

And Caleb? He was still frozen, trying to will his heart rate into something survivable. He was fighting the urge to grab her waist, pull her down and let her know how fucked up he was and how fucked up he was going to make her and–

She leaned in again and kissed the other cheek, this time slower, more thoughtful, more like she knew what the hell was happening inside Caleb’s head. He didn’t dare moving, too afraid that his body would betray him.

“This one’s better,” she said, eyes flicking to his with an innocent smile on her lips, and he was on the verge of biting that bottom lip so hard to draw blood. There was a pause. Not long. Just enough for him to come back to his senses. But of course she had to add gasoline to the already burning fire.

Her thumb lingered near his jaw, smudging the edge of the kiss. She was close enough for him to count the gold flecks in her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks. “You’re a really good swatch,” she added, voice too light for how loud everything felt suddenly.

He meant to make a joke, deflect like usual — but his mouth was dry, and she was already standing again, wiping the lipstick off his skin like it never meant anything. He gulped, inhaling deeply through his nostrils as he bit his inner cheek.

He watched her walk back to the mirror, not even caring to look back and him and see the mess she just made with such a simple action. He was on the verge of whimpering, if he had to be honest with himself. His lap now felt cold and empty.

But instead of doing anything, he didn’t say a single word, scared that if he opened his mouth something would betray him.

The only time where he didn’t hide his feeling was a late night. The kind of late that made everything feel softer. Like the world had finally gone quiet enough for honesty to slip in.

They were sitting on her living room floor, backs against the couch, legs stretched out in opposite directions. There were two mostly-finished drinks on the coffee table — hers was emptied and refilled only once, strangely enough — and a playlist humming low through the speakers; one of hers, all slow indie and warm, aching chords.

She had her head tilted back, eyes half-closed, a throw blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, but not enough to make her sloppy. Just enough to loosen the edges.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, voice low and close, as if she wasn’t so sure about it. He glanced over, catching her gaze. “You just did.” He mocked her with a chuckle. She kicked at him gently under the blanket. “I’m being serious.” His smile softened. “Okay. Ask.”

She paused. Not for drama, but because she was picking her words carefully, which was rare for her. She was nervous this time, Caleb could feel it.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question hanged there for a second. Not sharp. Not accusatory. Just… open. She was genuinely asking; and his breath caught, but only slightly. He didn’t look away. She was watching him — really watching. Like maybe she already knew the answer and was waiting to see if he would lie.

He considered it. The lie would have been easy. Safer. Something deflective, like “maybe once” or “nothing serious.”

But he was tired. Of hiding, of being considered just family, of swallowing things just because she never asked. “Yeah,” he said. Quiet. Certain. It was happening this time, and Caleb didn’t have the strength to lie a single time more.

She shifted, tucking one leg underneath her, giving him her full attention now. “Yeah?” He nodded just once, eyes still on her beautiful face. “Yeah.”

“Who?” she asked. The word was barely above a whisper, and it landed heavier than it should have. Was she even aware of the effects she had on him? His fingers tightened slightly around his glass. Other than that, though, he didn’t move. It was now or never.

“You,” he said. It wasn’t dramatic. Not whispered like a secret. It was just true.

She blinked — slowly, like she wasn’t expecting that. Or maybe she was. Maybe she hoped and didn’t dare believe it. “How long?” she asked, voice even smaller now.

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head once. Not bitter. Just tired. Honest “You wouldn’t like to know, pipsqueak.”

There was a beat. A long one. The kind that stretched and breathed on its own. She didn’t look away. Her mouth opened, then closed again. She was stunned, not because she didn’t think he could feel this way — but because he finally said it.

“You should’ve told me,” she said softly, and he just shrugged. “You were always dating someone. Or not looking. Or calling me your best friend like that was the end of the conversation.”

“And now?” He looked at her, studying her face, searching for any signs of discomfort or rejection. Her knees were brushing against his. Her lip was caught between her teeth — making him crave it even more, and her eyes were so wide it hurts.

“Now I’m telling you.”

She leaned in slightly, like her body was moving before her mind catches up. The space between them becomes charged, unbearable, and Caleb wasn’t sure it was a good idea anymore. His heart just wanted to explode.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” she whispered, and Caleb couldn’t help but lean even more forward, his lips brushing hers. “Neither do I,” he said, and he said it like he meant it. Because he did. He was so scared that he would run away and never be seen again, if only he could.

Her hand found his knee under the blanket. Fingers brushing slow, unsure. It felt like permission, or maybe a question. Her hand tightened slightly on his knee.

His forehead rested against hers, both of them still, breathing each other in like they didn’t want to break the moment. And gods did Caleb want that moment to never end.

“This feels like a dream,” she whispered and he almost smiled. Almost. “Then don’t wake up.” It was cheesy. Stupid, even, but she laughed — soft and real — and it was the kind of laugh that cracked something open between them. The sound that made him crazy over her.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and his heart tripped over itself at the sight.

But before he could even think of anything, she did more than he would have ever thought, and kissed him. Not hurried. Not dramatic. Just soft — a quiet press of her lips to his, like she was testing something she already knew would change everything.

Caleb didn’t move at first, stunned by the fact that it was really happening. That she was the one doing it. She took the first step, not him.

But then his hands found her waist, pulling her in gently, and he kissed her back — deepening it without really meaning to, but years of holding back were unraveling in a second and he couldn’t stop himself. Her fingers slid up in his hair. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, barely audible, but of course Caleb noticed it, snd it sent a spark down his spine straight to his core.

It was not desperate, nor rushed. It was full of everything they never said out loud.

When they parted — barely, just enough to breathe, but their lips still touched — she kept her eyes closed for a moment longer. “You could’ve told me sooner,” she said again, this time like it was a regret.

Caleb brushed his thumb along her jaw. “I wanted to. A hundred times. I was starting to go insane.” He whispered, lips brushing against hers.

“Then say it now,” she said, opening her eyes, voice barely there. “Say it like you mean it.” This time he didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste a single second.

“I’m in love with you.”

And this time, she believed him, immediately jumping on him as they kissed once more, ready to explore their feelings together after years of insecurities and tension.

[yansolivan]

౿ ݁ . ︵ ｡ Ꮺ ˚ ㅤ SOLIVAN ﹕☆

ㅤ ﹟ it · its ㅤ࣭ ㅤׂ ゛’07 liner ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

: ᯓ isfp ! ﹐ ‎ 🌀 ｡‎ °‎ ‧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎multifandom

What will I do here?

I love writing anything, so i’ll probably post some of my ao3 works here too! I’m currently obsessed with Love and Deepspace though!

I will not write about dead dove, incest (step-cest ok tho!), pedo or rape, and I would like to not interact with such contents.

There will be sensitive and explicit contents though, so please read carefully the introduction of the story to know what to avoid!

— masterlist — ao3 —

BUT

I don’t plan on only writing as I easily burnout, so expect to also get random thoughts and ideas.

TYSM FOR READING

10-4. Captain Caleb out.

I will take requests for stories only from fandoms I’m in and know the lore, so please read this! I don’t want to disappoint y’all.

Love and Deepspace

Genshin Impact

Arcane

Creepypasta

Project Sekai

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ‿︵˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˓ ︵ ͜

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ౨ৎ DNI LIST .ᐟ ⟢ ۫

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ it’s nothing personal

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ︶ ͡ ۫ ˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˒ ۫ ͡ ︶

dividers credits!!!

@the-voice-beckons-below @sigweiner

p.s. i plan on editing my intro into a more fitting one, but since i’m new here i’ll probably do it very slowly as i’ll try to understand how tumblr works