Authorâs note: omg hi initially i didnât want to write anything as i am an avid reader and enjoyer of gut-wrenching ANGSTđ, but suddenly i was struck with inspiration, i donât know whether i should continue it or not, but if i do, then this series will be a four-part series as there are 4 stages of icing (hence, the name of the writingđ) i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i wrote it HIHI, have a great day ahead my fellow moots and non-moots!đ€đ«¶đ»
link to my ao3!
The 4 stages of therapeutic icing:
Stage 1: Coldness
They say that snow is something that should be appreciated, to be adored, to be gazed upon, to be enthralled with, but why does it make you feel the utter opposite?
You were strolling through the park as the first snow of the season starts to fall, making people around you gush and feel excited as they get to experience the full winter wonderland effect. You took this time to reminiscence the fragments of memories in your mind, desperately holding on to what you assumed was yours, but truth be told, it was never yours from the start.
âHere, I think this will warm you up,â as someone approached you with two paper cups of steaming hot chocolate, you instantly recognised the voice of your beloved, the one that had held and owned your heart from the very moment you set your eyes upon him. âThank you,â you replied, carefully taking the cup away from him as your fingers brush against each otherâs, lingered for a slight moment before you pulled away, excited to blow on the wispy beverage as you both have terrifyingly sweet tooths, which is on the borderline of gluttony rather than normalcy.
If it were the âbefore-Zayneâ you, you would expect that the fit and strict doctor would take care of his glucose levels, but it is on the contrary. Nevertheless, you loved him even more, as this flaw (it is not a flaw, I love this about him) making him seem more of a human that has their own areas of weaknesses and tendencies. To further elaborate on this, fun fact: he absolutely despises carrots, even the thought of any desserts related to a certain orange-coloured vegetable would earn a hard âNoâ from the doctor, (ehem ehem carrot cake and carrot-flavoured macarons). From the way that he is described, other people would think that he is a picky toddler, but he is yours nonetheless, be it the toddler version or the doctor version, as he is the one who held onto your hand whenever he gets the chance, the one who would give you updates on his schedule in his free time and surgeries that would prolong up to 12 hours, the one who would do whatever he could to keep his patients entertained and happy, be it an old woman or the youngest patient in the hospital. He was adored by all ages with his charm and mannerism, always the polite and cool Doctor Li they say. How could people have bad impressions of him when he radiates attentiveness and authority.
âI thought that you wanted to stay in as usual for the first snow,â he started as you both walked alongside each other, arms brushing slightly. You slowly sipped the hot chocolate, watching the steam evaporate into the cold winter air, and buried your nose further into your scarf after tasting the rich and sweet drink that is nestled in your hand, as you replied, âAt first, I felt like I wanted to, but seeing that we havenât got the chance to visit the new park, I took this opportunity to do so!â Zayne could see the enthusiasm and pure joy in your eyes as your breath forms misty clouds of condensation. âWe could have go on another day,â he chuckled as he stopped you in your tracks, and tightened the scarf around your neck. âWe could, yes, but where is the fun in that? It is the first snow, you silly snowman, we should use it to the advantage! I have lots of things to make, snow angels, snowmans, snowâŠ.â You continued to list everything but Zayne was slowly losing focus on what you were saying as he was taken aback by the picturesque view in front of him; you, with snowflakes in your hair, the corner of your eyes squinting as they expressed genuine happiness, the thick blanket of snow behind you. You were beautiful, yes, that was undeniable, but the current you in your element with the background? It is a picture worth framed, if he could, he would like to capture the moment and engrave it into his cornea, so he could go over the scene over and over again. âZayne? Are you okay?â you asked, slowly worrying as he had not responded to your unreasonable to-do-list or at least give a slight reaction. âItâs okay if you donât want to do all of those things now, we have the whole season to complete it!â you said enthusiastically, but all Zayne did was stare at you intensely. âZayne?â you slowly stopped talking and poked his cheek, which finally brought him to consciousness.
âI apologise darling, it seems that I was unresponsive just now, what were you saying?â, he immediately brought his attention back to you, shaking his head a bit.
âAre you already getting bored of me?â you asked, slightly huffed and pouted.
âNever, darling,â he chuckled, it was his turn to poke you back as he aimed for your pout.
âThen, why are you not paying attention?â you huffed again, swatting his finger away from your face.
âI was, but you were too captivating to not stare,â he chuckled again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
âIf you truly listened, what did I say just now?â you challenged him with a teasing smirk and a playful glint in your eyes.
âThat you had a list of things to do in the snow,â Zayne answered as he slowly stalked up to you.
âList them,â you ordered smugly, steadily backing away from him and gradually running away from him giddily.
âWell, firstly, you did mention of making snow angels,â he chuckled as he chased you and gently tackled you onto the thick layer of snow. Laughter and burst of giggles were heard from you as you were being tickled relentlessly by your hazel-eyed lover. If anyone were passing by, the scene was truly a sight to behold as you were tickled pink (literally), you could never ask for more of a perfect moment to enjoy.
Oh, how you wish that you could go back to that exact moment just to relive the heart-warming feeling. You swallowed the bitter thought as you trudged past the exact spot of the tickling scene a few winters before, your sad eyes lingered for a moment on that spot before you heaved a heavy sigh and walked away. The before version of you would never expect that things will turn out this way, she would tell you to get your shit together and slap some sense into you, as if that could possibly change the state of things now.
You were slowly going through all of the moments that you have spent when your heart was full of love and hopefulness, but you cannot vouch that your state of heart is still the same now. Those late nights of pillow talks, the nights of shared breaths, and mingling touches sourly turned into shoddy apologies and missed dates, with you receiving the short end of the stick. You often thought to yourself, was all of this worth it? For you to experience the picture perfect, honeymoon phase just for it to turn into sleepless nights full of crying yourself to sleep, questioning your self-worth alongside the state of your relationship with a certain cardiac surgeon. Sure, there were no big arguments between you two, as one would be too tired to fight, and the other too full of unspoken feelings, afraid that if she lets it out, it would be too overwhelming to bear, succumbing to the isolation of silencing the suffering that she went through.
Strangely, this overbearing feeling hadnât existed before, so how could it suddenly sprout in the midst of bed of roses?
summary: in which you jokingly accuse the lads boys of cheating (and they hate it).
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb & valko
notes: veryyy mild hurt/comfort, xavier is #nothavingit, zayne is lovely, rafayel is evil, sylus is lovely too, caleb is secure for once, valko is the loveliest. fem (!!!) reader, allusions to cheating (obvi), a little toxic but itâs resolved quickly, thatâs it (i think).
p.s. this one is kinda ass forgive meeeeee (ty ly)
a/n: mind blankâŠi want valkoâŠty for reading (- -)(_ _)
summary: in which youâre injured and the lads boys find out about it (kinda).
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb & valko
notes: suggestive content so MDNI / NSFW, xavierâs a little evil, zayneâs a little silly, rafayel is losing it, sylus is #upset, caleb is caleb, valko is a little dumb but he has the spirit! fem reader (!!!), minor suggestive comments and allusions to violence (is anyone surprised) thatâs it (i think).
p.s. first time doing valko i like him as a loser do we also like him or should i delete my account just lmk!
a/n: GULP i rlly hope you guys like this it was fun to make so I Enjoy it but itâd also be lovely if you did too okokâŠvalko my silly nerdâŠty for reading (- -)(_ _)
summary: in which the lads boys are a little bit, kinda sorta, slightly jealous.
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb (and a special guest!)
notes: basically just fluff, minor allusions to drinking/partying but not explicitly mentioned so itâs up to your interpretation! theyâre all a little sinister + evil + concernedâŠwhat can i say. thatâs it (i think).
p.s. GUESS WHOOOOOOOOOO
a/n: valko i plan to Eat you soonâŠty for reading (- -)(_ _)
summary: in which the lads boys text you after having surgery (and are a little loopy) (and miss you).
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb
notes: suggestive content so MDNI / NSFW, xavier is kinda pathetic, zayne needs reassurance, rafayel is annoying (and wants to kill himself again), sylus is Into you Bad, caleb is double pathetic (zayne cameo too helloooo). this oneâs a bit au-ish given the fact that itâs less than likely most of them would need regular ass anesthesia and surgery butâŠwalk with me maybeâŠfem reader mentions in some of them (!!!), mentions of sexual acts briefly lol, allusions to violence (kinda??? rafayelâs into it??? and you donât rlly do anything???), and obvi mentions of injury/surgery but no graphic depictions, thatâs it (i think)
p.s. this was kinda fun to make but i also was very into making it so if it makes no senseâŠthatâs not my business idk man
a/n: this was a silly idea i had a few days ago and i felt very inclined to do it sooooo i hope itâs okayâŠty for reading (- -)(_ _)
caleb who hates seeing you in pain but also absolutely loves taking care of you when youâre on your period.
he loves how dependent you become on him, always asking him for food or tea or just for him to be your personal heater.
he massages your stomach without asking, eyes locked onto your face. heâs only focused on you as he makes sure heâs not being too rough and heâs happy when he hears you let out a content sigh.
you barely feel like doing anything yourself and heâs more than happy to do everything for you.
youâre snuggled up against him in bed with your eyes closed as he strokes your side softly.
you feel him shuffle a bit before he begins to get up and you let out a whine in disapproval.
âaww, my poor widdle apple doesnât want her caleb to get up?â he teases.
you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment but you shake your head anyways.
he coos at your shyness, completely enamored with how youâre clinging to him. he kisses your forehead softly and wraps his arms around you even tighter.
âdonât worry, pretty girl. your caleb will stay riiight here next to you. always.â
2,723 words * Ë âŠ ïœ„ Caleb spreads his palm across her stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the gentle flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. "You have no idea," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low vibration that he hopes drifts into her dreams. "No idea what you do to me. Walking around this house in these little shorts, these little shirts. Do you know how many times I've had to take myself in hand in the shower, thinking about you just like this? Soft and warm and mine?"
WARNINGS: third person pov (fem!reader), alternate universe â pre-canon, canon-typical pseudo-incest, (non-consensual) somnophilia, DAA!caleb, groping, fingering, grinding, heavy dirty talk, cum-eating, pervert!caleb, panty-stealing.
The afternoon light filters through the kitchen windows in thin, golden bars that leave stripes across the worn hardwood floors, and Caleb closes the front door behind him carefully, his DAA flight jacket unzipped and hanging open over a sweat-dampened white t-shirt, the scent of jet fuel and synthetic training cockpit air still clinging to his skin. He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl on the side tableâa ritual, always the sameâand the sound is muffled, swallowed by the empty house.
"Gran?" he calls softly, though he already knows the answer.
The note on the front door had said it clearly enough:Â
Visiting Margaret. Back Sunday. Dinner in the fridge. Love, Gran.
Just him and her; just them, alone, together.
He rounds the corner into the living room and stops, his breath catching in his throat with the familiar sharpness that has become his constant companion these past few years, ever since he realized that the protective warmth in his chest had twisted into something darker, hungrier, something that wakes him in the night with his hand wrapped around himself and her name on his lips.
She is sprawled on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge, her fingers brushing the carpet, the other tucked beneath her cheek. She is smaller than himâshe always has been, and she always will beâand the oversized sleep shirt she wears has ridden up to expose the soft curve of her stomach, the waistband of her sleep shorts sitting low on her hips. Her breathing is deep and even, lips parted slightly, hair fanned out across the cushion in a mess that makes his fingers twitch with the need to touch, to tangle, to pull.
Caleb stands frozen for a moment, the weight of his bag sliding from his shoulder to thud quietly against the floor, immediately forgotten in the face of this.Â
The house is silent except for his heart and the soft sound of her breathing.Â
Gran is gone for three days.Â
No one is watching, and no one will know.
His heart hammers against his ribs as he crosses the room, each step is deliberate, his boots are silent on the rug. He stands over her, looking down at the face he has known since childhood, the face he has watched transform from a gap-toothed child into thisâthis woman who haunts his every thought, his every dream, his every dirty fantasy.Â
She calls him gege, still, even now, even when the word feels like a brand on his skin, marking him as hers even as he marks her as his in the secret corridors of his mind.
"Gege's home," he whispers, so quietly it might be a thought rather than sound.
He cannot help it. He knows he should cover her with a blanket, retreat to his room, shower off the day, be the good brother she believes him to be. But the devil that lives in his chestâthat possessive, obsessive creature that whispered to him when he locked her in the attic that one time, that urged him to eliminate anyone who looked at her too long at schoolâthat creature stretches and purrs and demands that he pounce.
Caleb kneels beside the couch. His hand trembles as he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She doesn't stir. Her skin is warm, flushed with sleep, and the urge to feel more of it, to drown in it, overwhelms his restraint.
An arm slides beneath her knees, the other behind her shoulders, and he lifts her effortlessly. She is light, always so light to him, and she makes a small soundâa whimper that sounds more like a sighâthat goes straight to his groin, making him ache with a sudden, painful hardness that presses against the zipper of his flight suit pants.Â
He settles himself onto the couch, arranging her carefully on top of him, her back against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, her legs draped over his thighs.
The position is perfect. Too perfect, in fact; her ass presses directly against the straining bulge of his cock, and he has to bite his lip to stifle a groan, his eyes falling shut as he rocks upward just slightly, just once, testing the pressure. But she settles deeper against him, trusting and pliant, her breathing unchanged.
"Good girl," he breathes against her ear, his voice barely audible. "Such a good girl for gege. Sleeping so pretty. So peaceful."
His right hand slides beneath the hem of her sleep shirt, and her skin is impossibly soft, softer than anything he has ever touched, softer than clouds or silk or the petals of the flowers he once picked for her.Â
Caleb spreads his palm across her stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the gentle flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. "You have no idea," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low vibration that he hopes drifts into her dreams. "No idea what you do to me. Walking around this house in these little shorts, these little shirts. Do you know how many times I've had to take myself in hand in the shower, thinking about you just like this? Soft and warm and mine?"
His hand drifts upward, slowly, giving her time to wake, to protest, to stop him.Â
She doesn't.Â
A sigh escapes from her mouth instead, and she's pressing back against him, her head turning to nestle into the crook of his neck, and he takes it as permissionâthe only permission he needs in this moment where morality has fled and only want remains.
He finds her breast, fills his hand with the weight of it, and his vision spots at the edges. She is perfect, full and soft, her nipple a hardening peak against his touch as he brushes his thumb over it, circling, teasing. She arches into his touch in her sleep, a silent plea that makes him throb against her.
"That's it," he praises, his voice shaking with restraint. "You like that, don't you? Even in your dreams, you know it's me. You know gege is taking care of you."
Caleb pinches her nipple gently, rolling it between his fingers, and she whimpers, a sound that goes straight to his cock. He is so hard it hurts, trapped against her softness, and he grinds upward again, unable to stop himself, seeking friction even as he knows he should be still, should be careful, should not wake her to find him like this. "Look at you," he whispers, his free hand sliding down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, slipping beneath the loose waistband of her sleep shorts. "So wet already. Even asleep, your body knows. It knows who it belongs to, who has always owned it, even when I pretended to be the good brother. Fuck, baby, I was never good. I was just waiting; waiting for moments like this when I could have you without you looking at me with those eyes and seeing the monster I've become."
His fingers find her heat, slick and swollen and hot, and he has to press his face into her hair to muffle his groan.Â
She is drenched, absolutely soaked, and the realization that she is this wet in her sleep, that her body responds to him even in an unconscious state, shatters what little control he has left. "Jesus, look at this," he breathes, spreading her folds with two fingers, circling her clit with the lightest touch, watching her face for any sign of waking. She only breathes deeper, her hips shifting slightly, seeking more. "Soaked for me. This pretty little cunt is weeping, isn't it? Crying because it wants gege's cock. Because it knows who it belongs to."
He presses a finger inside her, slow and steady, feeling her walls clench around him, hot and tight and perfect.Â
She makes a sound and he freezes, his heart pounding, but her eyes remain closed, her face peaceful, lost in whatever dreamscape he has invaded.
"Good girl," he croons, beginning to move his finger, curling it to find the spot that makes her squirm, even unconscious. "Taking gege's finger so well. So tight, and so fucking perfect. You were made for thisâmade for me. I knew it the first time I saw you looked at me. I knew I would ruin you, ruin us; and I don't careâI don't care as long as I can have this, as long as I can feel you come apart on my hand while you dream of me."
He adds a second finger, stretching her gently, scissoring them inside her tight heat, feeling her grow wetter around his knuckles. His other hand continues to work her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple in time with the thrust of his fingers, building a rhythm that has her hips rocking now, seeking, chasing. "That's it," he encourages, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his own hips bucking against her ass, grinding his cock against her through his pants, seeking the friction that will send him over the edge. "Chase that pleasure. Gege's got you. Gege's giving you what you need. This is what you want, isn't it? My fingers deep inside you, fucking you open, preparing you for when I finally take you for real. When I spread you out on my bed and eat this pretty cunt until you scream, until you can't walk, until you forget your own name and only know mine."
Caleb crooks his fingers, pressing against her sweet spot, and her breath hitches, her back arching sharply. He feels her clench, feels the flutter of her walls around his fingers, and he knows she is close, so close, hovering on the edge of orgasm even in her sleep.
"Baby, my pretty baby, cum for me," he commands, his voice shaking, his own pleasure mounting, his cock pulsing with each thrust of his hips against her softness. "Cum for gege. Let me feel it. Let me feel you squeeze my fingers. Milk them like you'll milk my cock one day. Fuck, yes, that's it, good girl, such a goodâ"
She breaks with a keen, her body going rigid, her back bowing against his chest, her cunt clamping down on his fingers so hard he sees stars. She is beautiful in orgasm, even unconsciousâmouth open, brows furrowed in pleasure. He feels her pulse around him, drawing out her peak, and he keeps fucking her through it, gentling his touch but not stopping, dragging out every aftershock until she goes limp against him, boneless and satiated, her breathing deep once more.
"Pretty," he breathes, his voice wrecked. "So fucking pretty. My good girl, my perfect girl."
But he doesn't stopâhe can't.Â
The sight of her coming undone, the feel of her wetness coating his fingers, the pressure of her ass against his throbbing cockâit is too much. He continues to thrust his fingers, shallow and slow, milking her sensitivity, even as his other hand releases her breast and slides down to grip her hip, holding her steady as he grinds upward, seeking his own release.
"Look what you do to me," he pants against her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, salty and sweet. "Look how hard you make me. Just from touching you. Just from feeling you come. Fuck, I'm going toâI'm going toâ"
He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampooâsomething floral, something innocentâand lets go. His hips jerk upward, once, twice, three times, and then he is spilling into his pants with a choked groan that he barely manages to muffle, his cock pulsing in waves of pleasure that make his vision go white at the edges. It is messy and shameful, feeling the wet heat spreading in his underwear, but he doesn't care.
When it is over, when he can breathe again, when his heart slows from its frantic hammering, he carefully withdraws his fingers from her.Â
They are coated in her arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, and without thinkingâwithout the ability to stop himselfâhe brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, groaning at the taste of her, sweet and musky and perfect.
He needs more, and he needs to taste her straight from the source.
Caleb shifts carefully, manoeuvring her limp body until she is lying on her back on the couch, her head turned to the side, her legs parted slightly. He kneels between her thighs, his hands trembling as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her sleep shorts and her underwearâboth soaked through, both ruinedâand slides them down her legs, lifting her feet one by one to free the fabric completely.
She is exposed to him now, her sex glistening and swollen from her orgasm, pink and perfect and his. He stares for a long moment, memorizing the sight, filing it away in the vault of his obsession where he keeps every stolen moment, every glimpse of skin.
"Gege needs to taste," he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Just once. Just this once."
He leans forward, his hands spreading her thighs wider, and presses his mouth to her. She tastes like heaven, like sin, like everything he has ever wanted and cannot have. He laps at her slowly, licking up her folds, circling her clit with his tongue, cleaning away the evidence of her pleasure and his own transgression. She is sensitive, twitching beneath his mouth, making small sounds that drive him wild, but she does not wake. She is too far gone, too deep in sleep, too trusting that she is safe in her own home.
If only she knew; if only she knew that her brother is currently between her legs, feasting on her like a starving man, his cock already stirring again in his wet pants, desperate for more.
Caleb kisses her thereâher glossy cunt, her perfect sexâand whispers against her folds, "Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams of gege."
He lingers for one more moment, pressing a final kiss to her clit, feeling her shudder, before he forces himself to pull back. He cannot leave her like this, exposed and messy. He retrieves a warm washcloth from the bathroom, returns to clean her gently, thoroughly, wiping away every trace of his touch, his mouth, her own arousal.Â
She sighs in her sleep, peaceful, sated.
From his room, he retrieves a fresh pair of her pantiesânot the sexy kind, but the soft cotton ones she wears to bed, the ones he has imagined peeling off her a thousand timesâand a clean pair of sleep shorts. He dresses her carefully, lifting her hips, sliding the fabric up her legs, tucking her back into her clothes as if nothing has happened, as if he hasn't just defiled her in the most intimate ways while she slept.
He stands back to survey his work. She looks innocent again, untouched, her breathing steady, her face relaxed. No one would know. No one but him.
And the trophies he has taken.
Caleb picks up her discarded underwear and sleep shorts from where he dropped them on the floor. The cotton is drenched, heavy with her scent, with her arousal, with the evidence of what he has done to her. He brings them to his face, inhaling deeply, his cock twitching one last time, and then he folds them carefully and slips them into the pocket of his flight jacket.
They are his now, his treasure. The first of many, he knows.
He lifts her again, cradling her against his chest, and carries her to her bedroom, laying her down on her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. He stands over her for a long moment, watching her sleep, his hand in his pocket, fingers brushing the damp fabric he has stolen.
"Soon," he promises softly. "Soon you'll wake up. And you'll know. And you'll want it too."
He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, then her lipsâchaste, but possessive.
"I love you," he whispers. "My little sister. My girl. Mine."
SAINT'S NOTES ! originally uploaded in the server back in the 31st of may, before the entire shitshow and my decision to move past canon content, so don't quote me on this lolâpast me was idealistic about this game while present me simply does not give anymore fucks about it.
The fight wasn't even that bad, really. You'd been in a mood that day, and all he'd done was try to cuddle with you when you had snapped back at him. He tried to tease you, to calm you down like he usually did, but his emotionally unaware ass had clearly not noticed the difference between pissed and extremely angry.Â
Now, you were out on a shopping spree.
The shopping spree wasn't the problem. In fact, if it was up to Sylus, he was trailing behind you every day and watching you buy out mall after mall happily, making Luke and Kieran carry all the bags for him while the only thing he held was your waist. He'd sit for hours in dressing rooms watching you spin for him, giving you his undivided attention.Â
No, the problem wasn't the shopping spree at all. It was the fact that you were using your card.Â
It was the first time in ages that Sylus actually felt an emotion that was close to... was that distress? He'd given you card after card after card to use whenever he wasn't there, which was NEVER, because he was always there. Always.Â
So when he saw the bags in your room from the various luxury brands he spoiled you with, he'd just assumed you'd gone to a mall without him to cheer you up. Sure, he'd been a little sulky that he didn't get to come with you, but as long as you felt better and came back to sleep with him in the same bed, he didn't complain.
Yet, when he'd logged onto his financial records to deposit some more money into his card for you, a furrow formed between his eyebrows, realizing that nothing had been withdrawn at all. And Sylus may have been emotionally unaware at some points in his life, but he definitely wasn't stupid.
You knew that you had millions of dollars to spend with just a flick of his black card whenever you wanted to; it was just pocket change to him. He could buy out this whole fucking continent for you and still have enough to stay happy till the day he died, yet you still insisted on acting like a stubborn mule and using your own money, because you knew it pissed him the fuck off.
"Why aren't you using my card, sweetie?" A low voice hit your ears the moment you stepped into the house, dragging along with you a trolley's worth of bags, stumbling under the weight. Whoever said that money couldn't buy happiness clearly didn't live with the boss of Onychinus.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you huffed, watching him take four bags from you with ease, the other hand taking three more to lighten your load.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said pointedly, looking down at you. His voice was still quiet and calm, but the look in his eyes told you he was definitely not happy with it at all. You didn't reply, hauling the rest of whatever you'd bought to your room before Sylus put the bags down and spun you around, hands on your hips.
"Princess," he murmured, thumbs stroking against your hips. "You know I can just deposit all my money into your card too, right?" This was false- he had already deposited money into your card, just not as much as he would have liked to, in case you noticed too soon. You just didn't realise, giddily swiping your card when you saw there was still money inside. God, you needed to be more financially aware.
"As if," you scoffed, and Sylus bit back a smile. You were so oblivious sometimes it was cute. How did you think he got to such a high position without the basic knowledge of bank account infiltration? "And who told you you had permission to hold me again?"
"The six pairs of lingerie you just bought," he purred, leaning in closer. "And the seven more you probably would have bought if you used my card."
"I don't need your card to buy everything," you huffed angrily, poking at his chest and earning an amused eye raise. It was so unfair that he was still so antagonizingly hot even when you were mad at him. It just made you madder.
summary: your new life was entirely perfect. you had a devoted boyfriend whom you had recently moved in with, and coworkers who greeted you with open arms on your first day. everything in your life was falling into place seamlessly. too seamlessly
wc: 8.2k
warnings: dark content, suggestive, manipulation, yandere themes, surveillance
an: heed the warnings and let me know if i missed any
It had all started with a single request from your boyfriend of two years. âWould you move in with me?â It was a no-brainer. You loved him. Couldn't imagine your life with anyone else. You nodded, enthusiastically accepting, a wide grin lighting up your face. Caleb had brought you into a crushing hug, laughing in relief that you agreed. Heâd been fretting over that one little question all week.
From there, it was a blur of logistics and boxes, packing your entire life away in cardboard and bubble wrap to begin what you hoped was the rest of your days with the love of your life. It had been stressful, to say the least, but that was expected, and Caleb was there every step of the way, meticulously wrapping fragile items and carrying the heavier boxes without you having to ask.
It was endearing how keen he was to bring you into his space without worrying about when you would have to return to Linkon. Not once did he leave your side, always making sure you wouldnât lose your balance while carrying boxes or overexerting yourself. It was the domestic fantasy you had always dreamed about.
As smooth as Caleb made the moving process, your boss had been a thorn in your side from the get-go. He had refused to sign your transfer request to the Skyhaven facility, staunchly opposed your leaving, and said he didn't want to have to train someone else on the job. It took a week of back and forth for him to finally sign, his attitude on the matter doing a complete 180°, now eager to get you out of the building and wishing you great success. You furrowed your brows, unsure where this sudden change came from, but frankly, you were too excited to tell Caleb that the transfer had been approved to dwell on it. You didn't see his sigh of relief when you were finally leaving.
Caleb had gone as far as to take time off to help you settle in and unpack, but it soon became abundantly obvious that he had ulterior motives. Though he had lived there for some time, he still proclaimed that now that it was a family home, the rooms would have to be christened. Even if it wasn't a new place, it was a new, joint life, and that was good enough for him.
As promised, there was not a single room that Caleb hadn't indulged in your body. You think you spent more time that week wrapped in his arms, under him, and, occasionally, on your knees for him, than you did actually unpacking. Unfortunately, as much as you loved being doted on, that single week was all the time you had been allowed before resuming your work, albeit in a different location.
âJust a few more minutes, Pips,â Caleb groaned, pulling you tighter against him, refusing to let you get out of bed.
âYou said that ten minutes ago,â you answered, pushing on the arm that was snuggly wrapped around your waist, laughing as you did so. âWeâll both be late, and then what? I canât be late on the first day.â
He nuzzled his nose into your shoulder, giving you one final squeeze before relenting and letting you go. You rolled over, kissing his cheek softly before reluctantly leaving the comfort of both your boyfriendâs strong arms and the warmth of the bed. He didn't take his eyes off you, watching the way the morning light illuminated your figure and caressed the sliver of skin that was exposed when you raised your arms to stretch. He was beginning to regret hitting snooze instead of using his time to admire the mouthwatering sight. It helped, though, knowing that his home was now your home. He had the rest of his life to cherish and adore you.
âYou're so beautiful,â he murmured, his expression soft as he gazed at you. Heat rushed to your face. Despite his constant praise, there would always be a part of you that got flustered with his every compliment. How had you found such a perfect guy? Despite not having the time to do all he wanted, Caleb wasn't deterred from slipping his hands under your shirt and stroking the soft skin as you prepared breakfast in the kitchen.
As much as he insisted on driving you to work, you were no stranger to the public trains of Skyhaven, having visited so much. You settled on him driving you to the station, talking your ear off about how he wanted to know everything when you got off work, and how great he was sure it would be. Like your former boss, you didn't see the way his features hardened when you got out of the car, observing the other commuters.
The ride was uneventful, and you passed the time by scrolling on your phone. You frowned when your message to a friend didn't go through. Everything else seemed to be working fine, but no matter how many times you tried, the message stubbornly kept that little red exclamation mark signifying that it couldn't be delivered. You sighed, choosing to worry about it later. Maybe it had something to do with being on a floating island. You'd never had issues before, but there was a first time for everything.
When you arrived at your stop, you stood smoothly from your seat, sliding your phone into your bag and readjusting the straps on your shoulder. You were pleasantly surprised to find that, unlike most other public transportation you had been on, it seemed as if the passengers here were acutely aware of personal space. Not one person bumped into you on their way in or pushed you forward to follow the crowd of those disembarking.Â
From the train station, your work was a short walk away, the tall office building visible before you had even left the station. You hesitated when the doors came into view, your nerves getting the better of you. You hated feeling like the new kid at school, but such was life. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, pulling the door open with a confidence you didn't actually possess. You soon learned that there was no reason to be so nervous.
Upon entering the facility, the woman at the front desk startled so hard she nearly knocked over the mug of steaming coffee on her desk. She rose from her seat to welcome you. âHi, you must be the new employee! My name is Penny. Mr. Burbank told me we were expecting you today,â she said, her smile a little too wide, and her voice a little too chipper. She grabbed something from the desk, handing it to you. âHereâs your employee ID. Mr. Burbank is in his office just down the hall. You can't miss it. It has his name on it and everything,â she joked in that overly-friendly tone.
You returned the smile. âThank you so much! It was nice to meet you, Penny.â You made your way down the hall, scanning the doors looking for âBurbankâ written on one of them. You found it towards the end, and before you could so much as raise a fist to knock it swung inward, revealing who you assumed to be your new boss.
âAh! And you must be our newest member of the team!â he greeted you, even more enthusiastically than the receptionist had, if that was even possible. You put on a polite smile, though it was becoming a little unnerving how unnaturally upbeat people seemed to be, even as your boss gave you a tour of the space and introduced you to your coworkers. You brushed it off as them just trying to be welcoming and accommodating to the newcomer.
It should be easy enough to get in the groove of things. After all, it was the same job you had been working previously, just at a new location and with new people. Mr. Burbank cut his over-the-top hand gestures short, patting the edge of a sleek, modern desk. âAnd this is where youâll be working! We wanted to make sure you felt right at home, so itâs already been supplied with pens and such. If you need anything, absolutely anything, my door is always open!â With a final, blinding smile, he marched back to his office, leaving you to settle in at your new desk.
You let out a long, quiet breath as you settled into the office chair, surveying the array of supplies that came with the desk. Oddly enough, the mesh organizer was already filled with the exact gel pens you had always sworn by. You hummed, pleased that you wouldn't have to worry about finding your original ones in one of the many unpacked boxes still cluttering Calebâs home.
âHeâs a lot to deal with on a Monday, isn't he?â
A head of soft curls popped over the partition separating your desks. The girl attached to them gave you a sympathetic smile, a knowing glint in her eyes. âIâm Evelyn,â she said, leaning her elbows on the divider. âDon't let Burbank scare you. Heâs a big fan of extra espresso shots, if you couldn't tell. Youâll get used to it.â
You laughed genuinely for the first time today as you introduced yourself. âGood to know. I guess Iâd rather have a passionate boss over a rude one.â
Evelyn nodded understandingly, eyeing the pens in the mesh holder before shifting back to your face. âNo question about that.â
You thought that would be the end of the conversation, but she spoke up again. âWell, as Burbank said, if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. Honestly, the system is the same as the Linkon branch, so you shouldn't have any trouble.â
Your eyes widened slightly in shock. âHow do you know Iâm from Linkon?â
âOh, since you're working next to me, Burbank let me know we were getting a transfer from the sister office,â she answered flawlessly without a hint of hesitation. You accepted her answer, not having any reason to doubt it.
As she said, and as you expected earlier, you had no trouble taking up the work. The time flew, and before you knew it, Evelyn was tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention.
âSince you're new in town, how about getting lunch with me and Pen? You met her at the front desk, right?â
You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was indeed already time to eat. You happily accepted the offer, grabbing your bag from where it was stored under your desk and following Evelyn out to the lobby. âReady to go, Pen?â Evelyn asked.
âYeah, just give me a sec,â she answered, her attention wholly on the computer in front of her as she typed something feverishly. The second she finished, she spun in her chair to face the pair of you waiting. âOh!â she exclaimed, seeing you. âAre you coming, too?â
âIf itâs no troubleââ you started, suddenly concerned that you were intruding despite having been invited by one of the parties.
âNo, of course not! The more the merrier!â Penny was quick to reassure you.Â
âSo!â Evelyn cut in, clapping her hands. âWhat about that bistro a few blocks from here? The one with that BLT I really like?â She turned to you. âThey have a great lunch menu. Youâll love it, I promise.â
With everyone in agreement, off you went. It was nice to have met such nice women on your first day. The bistro was close enough to walk, and they chatted with you the entire way there, ensuring you were never left out, going so far as to catch you up on the latest office drama.
The bistro was packed with the midday rush, filled with the comforting aroma of garlic, melting cheese, and the chatter of patrons. Luckily, the wait was shorter than you had anticipated, and the three of you were seated in record time.
After giving your drink order to the waiter, Pen leaned towards you, propping her arms on the table. âSo, tell us about you. What brought you to Skyhaven?â
Evelyn mirrored Pennyâs posture, eagerly wanting to listen to learn more, too.
You looked away sheepishly, heat rushing to your cheeks. âI moved in with my boyfriend. Weâve been dating for two years now, and it just felt like the right time. His job is here, and way more important than mine, so it only made sense for me to move in with him instead of vice versa.â
The girls squealed at your answer.
âThatâs so sweet,â Evelyn gushed. âWhatâs he like? He must be something special to relocate your whole life.â
âYeah, tell us about him.â
Their excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but indulge their fun. âHis name is Caleb, and yeah, heâs amazing,â you said, your cheeks warming when you recalled him holding you in the kitchen that morning. âHeâs incredibly attentive. He takes care of everything before I even think of it.â
âAnd what does he do for a living? You said his job was way more important, but I don't know. I personally take great pride in what we do,â Evelyn probed.
âHeâs a colonel for the fleet,â you answered proudly.
âOooh, impressive, and it sounds like he really adores you.â
âHe does,â you agreed, feeling an intense wave of gratitude wash over you.
Before they could ask any more questions, the waiter returned with your drinks, pulling out a notepad to take the rest of your orders. Once he was gone, you turned the questions around.
âWhat about you two? Anyone special in your lives?â
Penny shook her head, and Evelyn groaned. âNothing more than a string of bad first dates. I mean, is it really so hard to find a decent guy, or do I just have bad taste?â
Penny rubbed her back soothingly, but the comfort didn't last. âMaybe a bit of both?â she suggested, grinning wryly.
Evelynâs jaw dropped as she scoffed. âAnd what about you, huh? Didn't the last guy you go out with turn out to already have a girlfriend?â
âYou promised not to talk about that!â
The duration of lunch was spent in that fashion: discussing each otherâs love lives, even if you were the only one with a significant one, hobbies, interests, etc. They were great, truly, and you felt so fortunate that you were able to seamlessly slide into the easy chemistry that the two already had. While waiting for the checks, you pulled your phone out both to check the time and the message thread with your friend from back hoâ Linkon, you corrected yourself. Skyhaven was home now.
You sighed, frowning slightly, drawing the attention of the table.
âSomething wrong?â Penny asked. Her voice was light, but her posture was remarkably still as she watched you tap frustratedly at the screen.
âYeah, justâŠtrying to text a friend back in Linkon, but it wonât go through.â
âOh, don't sweat it,â she said easily, waving a dismissive hand. âSkyhaven tends to eat external signals. Happens to all of us eventually. Itâll clear up!â
âAs high-tech as this place is, you'd think the service would be more reliable,â you remarked.
She shrugged. âA little bad service is worth the trade-off, don't you think? Everything you need is right here. Once you're a resident, there's not really a need to look elsewhere. Plus, you've got a handsome colonel waiting for you at home.â
You tilted your head towards her, confused. You hadn't said anything about Calebâs looks. Maybe she just naturally assumed that since you were his girlfriend, youâd find him attractive. Objectively speaking, he was, but she didn't know that. Her words before that also threw you, sounding like a rehearsed line, like someone trying to talk you into buying something. You almost expected her to pull out a pamphlet of Skyhavenâs highlights. But her bubbly way of speaking made it easy to ignore. You were new to living there full-time, so it could also be that she was just trying to ease any homesickness you may be feeling.
âââ
âGo on, get out of here,â Evelyn laughed, shooing you away from your desk as the clock finally ticked to five. âYour colonel is probably already waiting.â
You rolled your eyes, but acquiesced, shutting everything off for the day after double-checking that all the files were saved. âLess waiting, and more cooking. Heâs making his signature braised chicken to celebrate,â you admitted, mouth already watering as you thought about it.Â
âYou definitely won the lottery,â she said, giving you a playful wink. âHave a good night, Iâll see you tomorrow. Don't wait up on me, Iâve gotta run this-â she held up a stack of papers â-to Burbank.â
The commute back felt entirely different than the one there. This time, instead of being filled with a frantic nervousness for your first day, you were happy and content, excited to tell Caleb all about the two women you had already befriended. And, unlike most of the train rides you had boarded in Skyhaven, this time you weren't a visitor. You were a resident going home. It made your heart flutter in your chest to think about it.Â
When you walked in, you were immediately enveloped by the savory scent of Calebâs cooking wafting from the kitchen. The moment the door clicked shut, Caleb was calling out for you. âPips? You home?â
Before you had even taken your shoes off, he appeared in the doorway. Heâd already discarded his uniform, opting instead to don his more comfortable lounge clothes, an apron covering them.Â
âHey,â you greeted, dropping your bag onto the entryway table.
Caleb crossed the room in two large strides, catching you by the waist and pulling you flush against his chest. He held you tightly, one of his hands sliding up your back to cup the back of your head. He held you in place like he never wanted to let go. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his trim waist and melting into his familiar warmth.Â
âHow was your day? Did they treat you well?â he asked without breaking the hug.
You pulled back slightly to see his face. âIt was great! I met these two really nice ladies named Penny and Evelyn. They even invited me out to lunch with them!â
Caleb smiled tenderly at you, kissing your forehead. âGood. Thatâs exactly what you deserve. Only the best.â
Dinner was filled with idle chatter about your days, and Calebâs attention never wavered from you, not even for a moment. When your plates were empty and your stomachs full, you practically had to force Caleb out of the kitchen and into the living room.
âBut, Pips, I really don't mind cleaning up. In fact, it should be me,â he protested.
âNope,â you replied. âYou cooked, so Iâll take care of the cleanup.â
âThatâs hardly fair. Itâs more like I made the mess, and youâre the one cleaning it.â
You only shook your head at him, continuing to usher him out. He eventually relented, but you could see him pouting on the couch where he was waiting. As soon as the last of the kitchen was tidied, you made your way over to Caleb, who pulled you onto his lap before you were able to take the seat next to him. âYou're finally here,â he whispered, his lips brushing your jawline as he drifted down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of burning, lingering kisses. âMy beautiful girl. No more different cities. No more goodbye trains.â
âNo more goodbyes,â you agreed softly, tilting your head back to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.
He groaned, a low vibration against your skin, and adjusted his hands to grip your hips, rolling your hips against his. His eyes were dark with an overwhelming, desperate adoration that made you feel like the center of his whole world. When his lips met yours, it was slow, possessive, and all-consumingâ a silent vow of complete and utter devotion. Your body was pliant against his as he rose from the couch, your legs wrapping securely around his waist as he carried you to your shared bedroom, all of your worries and anxieties melting away in the security of his strong hold.
Two months dissolved into a golden haze of domestic bliss. Skyhaven had long since stopped feeling like a new city and actually felt like home. Life with Caleb settled into a rhythm that felt almost impossibly perfect. Given the nature of his job, his days were spent dealing with high-stress tasks, yet he was always sure to leave work at work, never taking his issues home where his pretty girl was waiting for him. No matter what his job put him through, he was still your Caleb; still the same man who insisted on you not lifting a finger; still the same man whose only concern was ensuring that you were as cared for as you could be.
He was fiercely, unapologetically attentive, whether it was a coffee thermos waiting for you on the counter on the days he had to leave earlier or rubbing your shoulders when you complained about stiffness after sitting at a desk all day. Contrariwise, you did whatever you could for him. Making sure the formal coat he discarded over the arm of the couch was properly hung up so it wouldn't get wrinkled, offering reassurances whenever he doubted making the wrong decision at work, anything he needed, you were there, as he was for you.
At the office, the initial corporate stiffness evaporated, and Penny and Evelyn became permanent fixtures in your life. Friday nights at a local bar became a ritual. They knew your favorite drinks, celebrated your small successes at work, and constantly reminded you how lucky you were. âHonestly,â Evelyn had mused one night. âA man who looks like that, who holds a rank like that, who treats you like that? You're living a fairy tale most of us can only dream of.â
You believed her. You really did.
The first time the illusion rippled was a Tuesday morning in mid-October. Mr. Burbank had bounded into the room, practically vibrating with his usual high energy, pushing a rolling cart loaded with coffee carafes and several boxes from a nearby bakery.
âGood morning, everyone! Brilliant numbers last week, truly brilliant!â he beamed, clapping his hands together and gesturing towards the spread. âPlease, help yourselves. A reward for all your hard work! Keep it up!â
You stood up with Evelyn, moving towards the table to fix a coffee. You were scanning the assortment of pastries when Mr. Burbank stepped up beside you, immediately reaching into one of the boxes with a pair of tongs. He pulled out a muffin with an impeccable streusel topping, placing it onto a paper plate before handing it to you. âThere you go! Raspberry-white chocolate!â he said with a jovial nod. âYour favorite, right?â
You froze, the weight of the muffin in your hand taking on a weight it didn't previously have. You stared down at it. It was your favorite, but you hadn't mentioned that to a single soul here. âOh,â you said, forcing your voice to remain light as you looked up at him. âYeah, it is. But how did you know that, sir? I don't think I've ever mentioned it.â
He faltered, all gusto melting from his face, a blank expression replacing it. He glanced sharply over your shoulder toward Evelyn, who had stopped pouring her coffee. Then, like flipping a switch, his bright smile returned stronger than before, but was a little tighter around the edges. âIâm certain Iâve heard it somewhere. Maybe it was in your information during onboarding. Weâve always been a very thorough company, you know.â He walked away hurriedly after his rushed explanation, not giving you the chance to question it. Surely no company was that thorough, right?
You were still puzzling over it when Evelyn nudged you with her elbow. âCâmon, get some coffee before it goes if you want some,â she said, pulling your thoughts away from Burbankâs strange behavior.
The unease only deepened that Friday, tucked away in a corner booth with Penny and Evelyn. Your phone sat on the table next to your glass. The screen lit up briefly with a notification: Message to âJaneâ failed to send.
You sighed, propping your head up and rubbing one of your temples. âHey, are you guys still having trouble with external signals? I still haven't been able to get a single call or text to Linkon since moving.â
Penny paused, her cocktail glass just an inch from her lips. Beside you, Evelyn tensed. The easy, girlish chatter vanished, replaced by a thick, suffocating silence.
âOh, the defense grid has been super high-intensity lately,â Penny said, her bubbly voice sounding forced. âThe fleetâs been doing a lot of training exercises.â
âItâs getting really frustrating,â you admitted, swirling the straw in your drink. âI miss my friends and family. Iâm thinking of taking a long weekend next month to visit. Just booking a train ticket and staying in Linkon for a few days. Itâs been too long since I've seen everyone.â
Pennyâs glass hit the table with an abrupt clink.
âWhy would you want to go back there?â Evelyn asked. Her tone wasn't that of a friend asking a casual question. It was sharp. Defensive. Accusatory.
You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. âI just told you. I miss my family and friends. Linkon was my home for my entire life until a few months ago.â You didn't understand why this seemed to be such an issue to them.
âSkyhaven is your home now,â Penny rebutted smoothly, though her eyes were darting rapidly between you and Evelyn. She reached across the table, covering your hand with hers. âAnd you have us now! Besides, Linkon is way more dangerous. Wouldn't it be better to stay safe up here? Caleb would worry himself sick over you.â
You frowned. âItâs not like Iâd be traipsing through the N109. Again, I grew up there. I can navigate the city just fine. Why are you pushing this so hard?â
âItâs just not a good idea,â Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a stern, unyielding tone, like a parent chastising a child. âYou're safer here. There's no reason to go back.â They both stared at you, their expressions of manufactured friendliness not quite reaching their eyes. You pulled your hand back from Pennyâs, dropping the subject in conversation, but not forgetting it altogether. For the rest of the night, something in you remained unsettled.Â
âI think Iâm going to head home. Itâs been a hectic week,â you informed them, checking the time on your phone. âItâs getting late, too.â
âDo you want us to walk you to the station?â Penny asked, already rising from her seat.
âNo, no, please. You two stay and enjoy yourselves. Caleb already offered to pick me up whenever Iâm ready.â
They nodded understandingly, watching as you pulled up your chat with Caleb, the only one that never seemed to experience a single second of network delay. Ready to head home, you typed, your thumbs flying across the screen. Can you come get me?
He answered immediately. On my way, Pips.
It had barely been five minutes when he texted you again to tell you that he was waiting outside. Thatâs curious, you thought. It should have taken him at least twenty minutes from home. Nevertheless, you bid the girls goodbye, hurrying out to see Calebâs sleek, dark car pulled up at the curb. You slid into the passenger seat, placing your bag on the floorboard as you settled in, the scent of Calebâs cologne enveloping you and offering a familiar comfort you only associated with him.
âHave fun?â he asked as he pulled away, glancing at your outfit from the corner of his eye. God, the things you do to him.
âYeah, I guess so. You got here really fast. Were you already near?â
Caleb nodded, taking one hand off the wheel to point to the backseat with his thumb, where you saw an assortment of plastic bags. âYeah, just picking up a few things. Found this soup recipe that I think youâll love. Saw your text right as I was leaving.â
You hummed, and he continued, stretching his hand across the console to rest a hand against your thigh. âAnyways, you said you guess you had fun? Did something happen? Are you okay?â he inquired worriedly.
You smiled gently at his concern. âIâm fine, Caleb. The girls were just a little strange. I brought up wanting to visit home since I still can't contact anyone. You'd think I'd suggested walking into a warzone.â
Calebâs thumb, which had been rubbing circles on your skin, stilled. âOh, yeah? What did they say?â
You let out a long breath, relaying everything that had been said, how intensely opposed they had been. âAm I reading too far into it? Itâs like they were trying to prevent me from leaving.â
Caleb kept his dark eyes on the road, jaw clenching. You should never have been made to feel uncomfortable. âThey were probably just worried about you, thatâs all. Itâs not unusual for friends to be concerned.â
You weren't convinced, but said nothing. He continued. âIf you really want to go so badly, though, just let me know when so I can make some arrangements. Weâll go together. Itâs been too long since Iâve had your motherâs cooking.â
You blinked at him, stunned, warmth blooming in your chest. âYouâd really take time off for that? Iâm just looking to visit for a few days, and they need you here.â
âIf itâs just a few days, then they can survive without me, don't you think? The fleet isn't so fragile as to fall apart over me missing for a few days,â he laughed, enjoying how cute your concern was. âYou are my number one priority. Always.â
Your reservations melted away, replaced by the absolute security that Caleb provided. You set your hand on top of his, where it still rested on your thigh, content to let the conversation fall into silence and admire the lights of the passing buildings through the window.Â
Your side profile was illuminated beautifully, but he could hardly relish the sight as he normally would have, not when you had thrown his thoughts into such disarray. You wanted to leave? Why couldn't you just forget about your old friends? Werenât the new ones enough? He had finally made his home yours. He loved you. He would do anything for you. Anything except let you go.
The comfort lasted for exactly three days.
On Monday, you found you didn't have much of an appetite and opted to visit a small, local cafe for a small pick-me-up. It was a quaint and homey place, in a quieter section of the city. Caleb had recommended it to you on the very first weekend in Skyhaven, raving about the ham and cheese croissant. You had been there with him several times since, now heavily associating the place with his warm laughter.
Today, you were alone, not wanting to deprive Pen or Evelyn of a decent meal just because you weren't in the mood. The regular barista you usually saw wasn't there, though you guessed that made sense since you were here at an entirely different time of day than usual. Instead, it was a young man with short-cropped hair, looking decidedly bored with everything around him.
âWelcome in,â he greeted. âWhat can I get for you?â
âA small vanilla latte and an almond croissant, please,â you answered, digging through your purse for your wallet.
âYou got it,â he said, already getting to work on the coffee. You waited patiently off to the side, not really paying attention to much around you until your name was called to get your order. You didn't think much of it at first, but then his words hit you like a bucket of ice water. You never gave your name.
You collected your items, but called out to stop him from walking away. âHow did you know my name?â you asked, heart racing in your chest. He looked like a deer in the headlights, his bored expression now one of someone who had made a grave mistake. He didn't answer, only apologized that he was busy and didn't have time for idle chatter.
You hurried back to the office, unsure how to tell Caleb you would likely never return to the cafe that had become a favorite casual date spot. You decided to find answers yourself before telling him. The next morning, you left extra early to have time to drop by. The bell above the door chimed as you walked in, and the barista you usually saw was back behind the counter. She glanced over at the door after hearing the bell, her posture going ramrod straight, almost seeming to recognize you.
You approached the counter apprehensively. She flashed you a blinding smile and welcomed you in, her customer service dial turned as far as it could go with her artificially cheery tone. âHey, Iâm looking for the barista who was here yesterday. Short, dark hair? Was on the clock around noon?â
She looked at you, puzzled. âWe don't have anyone here that looks like that, Iâm sorry. But if you're ready to order, I can certainly help with that!â
âNo, he was here yesterday,â you said, bile rising in your throat. Something was so terribly wrong, even if you couldn't quite pinpoint just what it was yet. âHe made my drink.â
âIâm sorry, ma'am, but you must be mistaken.â Her smile hadn't wavered once, only changed from the megawatt one that it had been when you first walked in to an apologetic one. âCan I get anything started for you?â She tried again.
You shook your head, leaving without another word. You couldn't shake the distinct feeling that something was off.
The rest of the week passed by quietly, with nothing else out of the ordinary. You went to work, kissed Caleb goodbye, talked to Evelyn and Pen over lunch, went home, and spent your evenings curled up with your boyfriend. By Saturday morning, you had nearly settled back into the mundane comfort of everyday life.
Caleb had been called in for a briefing, and you found yourself needing to work off the restless energy. You figured you might as well be productive and grabbed a broom, determined to have the house spotless by the time Caleb returned. You were sweeping the hallway when you noticed his office door â which was always closed and locked â was cracked open, an unheard of occurrence from the man who had never once forgotten to secure it, the files and paperwork within far too important.
You knew you shouldn't, but you couldn't help yourself. You propped the broom against the wall and pushed the door open, walking in slowly. It was meticulously organized, not so much as a single pen out of place. You stepped closer, reaching out for a manila folder with the fleetâs insignia on it. The first thing that greeted you when you opened it was your own face. You were so startled you nearly dropped the folder altogether.
You scanned the page, finding all the information about you that anyone could ever want to know. All the basic personal details, such as your name and birthday, but beyond that, it also included your blood type, medical history, daily routines, and even a brief list of your favorite things as well as dislikes. Your entire life was printed in front of you in black and white.Â
Your heart was beating against your ribcage so hard it felt like it was trying to escape. Swallowing thickly, you continued flipping through the document, feeling more and more sick with each one you saw. Though they were far less detailed than yours, there was a file for Evelyn, Penelope, Burbank, and even the mystery barista. All low-ranking members of the fleet. All assigned to you with specific instructions about how to behave around you.
Numb with shock, your eyes drifted to the computer that had been left on, the screen idling. You shook the mouse, and a digital map of Skyhaven was pulled up. At the very center was a pulsating crimson dot hovering over the house. Without confirmation, you already knew exactly who that dot was tracking.
Not knowing what else to do, you put everything back exactly as it was. You backed out of the room, clicking it shut this time. For the next forty-eight hours, you gave the performance of your life. When Caleb came home, you kissed him as usual. You cooked dinner. You talked about each otherâs days. You curled into his side and let him stroke your hair when it was time to sleep. You just had to make it to Monday, when you both returned to work. Then, you would have your window to run.
When Monday came, you slid from your desk, not bothering to answer Evelynâs questioning look. You ignored Pennyâs calls to you as well; your mind made up that you had to get to the train station as soon as possible. Youâd barely made it to the end of the block when you rounded a corner and ran directly into what felt like a wall. Before youâd even looked up, you knew youâd have to lie through your teeth. You recognized that uniform.
Glancing up, you were met with Caleb's purple eyes staring down at you, his brows furrowed. âWhere are you going in such a rush?â he asked, concern dripping from his words. âDo you feel sick? Need to go home? You seem a little flushed.â He raised his free hand to your forehead, checking your temperature.
âWhat are you doing here? I thought you were on duty today,â you asked, wondering just how he had gotten there so fast.
He held up one of his hands, drawing your attention to a take-out bag from one of your go-to spots. âI thought we could have lunch together,â he said sheepishly. âBut if youâre not well, youâre probably not very hungry either.â
You nodded, once again resigned to pretending everything was normal.
âLetâs go home,â he said softly, taking your hand in his and leading the way. The workday wasn't even over, and you obviously weren't able to leave quite yet, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about any repercussions. Given that your boss was stationed by the fleet, there likely wouldn't be any repercussions at all.
Caleb didn't act any differently than normal, fussing over your well-being and insisting you get some rest as soon as you were back home. He was no fool. He knew youâd finally realized, yet he clung to the illusion that he had so carefully curated. He desperately didn't want you to be afraid of him.
He stayed by your side until you fell asleep, and he was gone when you woke. You wasted no time throwing a duffel bag together, your hands shaking as they violently zipped the bag shut. It was harder to walk out the door than you thought it was. Your heart was bleeding for what could have been, for what should have been. You stood in the kitchen, looking around the space, memories coming to you unbidden. Caleb at the stove, an apron the only thing covering his chest; the first morning after moving in, when he hugged you from behind; the living room that had hosted countless movie nights. Was all of that fake, too?
Your vision was becoming blurry with tears that you wiped as soon as they fell. The hardest part of it all was that a part of you still wanted to stay. To pretend your relationship was as perfect as you always thought. You still loved him. Loved the man who prepped your coffee in the morning, the man who rubbed the tension from your shoulders after a long day, the man you thought youâd marry someday.
You steeled your heart to the best of your ability, pushing down both memories and your heartbreak. Making sure to leave your phone on the counter so that the incriminating red dot would remain in the house, you walked out the door.
âââ
The train station was winding down for the night with just a few stragglers left. You approached the ticket window, pushing your civilian ID through the slot. âOne way to Linkon, please. The next available train.â
The ticket seller, an older man with tired eyes, slid your card through the electronic reader. For a second, the system chimed normally. Then, a sharp ring cut through the glass. The screen in front of the man flashed bright red. You watched the color drain from his face, his posture going rigid as he stared at the alert on his monitor. He looked at you, his eyes wide. âIâmâŠIâm sorry, ma'am, but the lower tracks are under maintenance. There won't be any more trains for the night.â
âWhat?â your voice pitched higher, a cold panic exploding in your chest. âWhat about tomorrow?â
The man shrugged helplessly. âThe system is locked. I can't help you, I'm sorry. If itâs urgent, you can come by first thing in the morning to check.â
You backed away from the window, your mind racing. What now?
You couldn't call anyone from home, you couldn't call your âfriendsâ here, and you couldn't leave the island. Surely local law enforcement still had some integrity. That singular thought is what kept your legs moving all the way to a local station, pushing open the heavy doors. The lobby was sterile, smelling of industrial cleaner.Â
Behind the security desk sat a low-ranking Fleet officer. His posture was relaxed until he looked up and caught sight of you, breathless and trembling.
âMiss, are you alright?â He stood up immediately, concerned.
âThe trains are down,â you choked out. âAnd my phone stopped working. Please, I need to get to Linkon. Is there any other way?â
The officer blinked, taking in your frantic state. A flash of genuine pity crossed his features. âCalm down, miss. The Coelum Express is experiencing a temporary failure. Iâm sure itâll be back up in no time. But if itâs imperative that you get there, Iâll see what can be done.â He gestured to the empty lobby. âWhy don't you take a seat?â
You nodded slowly, gratefully sinking into the hard plastic chair, your knee bouncing up and down with nervous energy. Through the glass partition, you watched him sit back down, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
You let out a breath you felt like you had been holding for hours. Someone was really helping you.Â
At the desk, the officer pulled up a transportation request form. âMiss?â he called out across the quiet lobby, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. âI need your full name to complete the request.â You gave it, your voice much softer now that your heart rate was finally returning to baseline. âThank you. Just one moment, please,â he replied warmly, typing in the letters and hitting enter.
You didn't see what happened next. You were looking down at your hands, completely unaware of how the color drained from the officerâs face as he read the warning that flashed across the screen.
WARNING: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. ASSET UNDER CUSTODIAL JURISDICTION OF COLONEL XIA.
The officerâs fingers froze over the keys, reading the warning over and over, specifically the name that had ice flowing through his veins. The officer couldn't bring himself to look at you, so much more than the stranded civilian he had believed you to be. He pitied you. He really did. But it was out of his hands, now.
Forcing his voice to remain flat and neutral, he kept his eyes focused solely on the screen. âAlright, miss, I just need a supervisorâs approval, and then youâll be all set.â
âThank you,â you murmured gratefully, offering a small, fragile smile of relief. You watched him disappear into the back offices, entirely oblivious that the officers were already phoning the colonel.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. You were starting to worry that something was wrong when you heard the door to the station open again. You glanced over, expecting to see another citizen or perhaps another officer of the station. Instead, what greeted you was the intimidating figure of the very man you had worked so hard to get away from.
He was still in full uniform, cap and all, looking every bit the colonel everyone else saw, and for once, you did too, rather than your boyfriend. It lasted only a moment, his eyes softening with such profound relief when he saw you, and he was back to looking like your Caleb.
He walked towards you, offering a hand for you to take. You felt something break inside you, looking over to the desk to see the officer had returned, his head tilted down in a display of shame. There was nowhere for you to go. There was nothing you could do. With no other options, you slid your hand into his. You stood, and he cupped your face, directing you to look up at him. âI was so worried about you, Pips,â he whispered, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. You didn't reply, trying to reconcile that youâd never go back to the way things were before. âLetâs go home, yeah?â he said softly, looking at you like a pet that had wandered a little too far from home.
Before leaving, Caleb turned to the officer. âThank you for your vigilance, Adjutant.â
He didn't speak on the ride home, and neither did you. In fact, you didn't even move, like prey hoping to avoid a predatorâs notice. Not that it mattered when you were already in the passenger seat of his car.
It wasn't until the front door shut behind the pair of you and the lock clicked into place that he finally spoke, placing his cap on the entryway table.
âWhy did you leave, Pips? Don't I make you happy?â he asked, his voice cracking with agonizing sorrow. You remained silent, choking back sobs. You tried to walk around him, keeping your head down, but he caught your arm. âNo. Don't do that. You can't just walk away from me,â he pleaded. âIâve done everything to make you happy. To keep you safe. I thought we were happy.â
âWhy?â was the only thing you could muster, tears welling up in your eyes and strangling your voice.
Caleb seemed caught off guard, but didn't hesitate to answer as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. âBecause I love you.â
 âThis isn't love, Caleb, this is a lie,â you sobbed, grabbing onto his wrists. âI don't understand. How did you evenââ you couldn't finish, your legs giving way under you. Caleb went down with you, pulling you into his chest as you cried, stroking your hair the way he always did.
âHaving you here is what keeps me here, and the Fleet wouldnât replace me easily. But they didn't understand that you are my priority.â He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-stained face, his eyes dark with all-consuming devotion. âI was worried about you moving here. What if you didn't adjust well? What if you got homesick? It was distracting. In a world where you were protected and happy, I wouldn't have to worry so much. It was all for you.â
You buried your face back into his chest, your body wracked with sobs. The crushing weight of his confession paralyzed you. And the absolute sickening tragedy of it all was that you still loved him. You didn't want to leave him, to give up the happiness you had with him. You were entirely horrified by the lengths he had gone to and the scale of his deception, but more than his lies, you were trapped by the depth of your own feelings for him. You couldn't stop loving him, even if it meant choosing your own captivity.
Sensing your compliance, Caleb let out a sigh of relief. He scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, laying you gently on the mattress and crawling in beside you, his arm over your waist, holding you tightly against him.
âEverything will be okay. I promise,â he whispered into the quiet of the room. âYou just have to stay with me.â He paused, pressing a kiss into your hairline. âI love you. So much.â
Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to relax into his hold, your heart clenching in your chest. âI love you, too,â you admitted. And you did. You really, truly did.
â„ pairing: sugar daddy/ceo!sylus qin x assistant!reader
â„ summary: âShe has spent three years loving a man she cannot have. He has spent three years wanting a woman he wonât allow himself to reach for â until the day he decides, quietly and without hesitation, to reach anyway. What neither of them realises is that theyâve been finding each other all along. She just doesnât know heâs the one on the other side of the screen yet.â
â„ genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni)
â„ word count: 50K+??? (I am insane and not normal about sylus <3)
â„ status: COMPLETED - 1st of April
â„ warnings/tags: sugar daddy!sylus, alternative universe, ceo!sylus, yearning/longing, sylus is 39 in this, assistant!reader, sugar baby!reader, power imbalance, eventual boss/employee relationship, idiots in love, mild hurt/comfort, emotional/sensitive!reader, very long fic, banter, sylus the rage baiter. mutual masturbation, sexting, size difference. reader is shorter than sylus. reader is always audhd coded in my writing but anyone can read it. sylus is soft for reader, flirting/teasing, inexperienced/virgin!reader. dry humping, grinding, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom sylus, just in overall soft!sylus. sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, size kink, full on daddy kink⊠I mean⊠itâs a sugar daddy au. so⊠<3, oral fixation, breeding kink, praise kink, pet names (kitten. sweetie. sweetheart etc.), multiple sex positions, pleasure dom!sylus, aftercare. mc loves the color pink a lot.
ⶠa/n: HIIIIII here I am with a new fic. as of the moment I am writing this it's still a wip. this fic is probably gonna be over 60k words. either way I still wanted to share the post on tumblr already. I always wanted to write a sugar daddy au BUT didn't find inspiration until RECENTLY. so in the lads server I'm in they are currently doing a 'kink bingo'. it's a little event that writers can participate and write a story around a certain trope. I went with sugar daddy đ€đ I said I wasn't gonna write for a while but what can I say⊠sylus brainrot. he's literally my muse. EITHER way. I hope you enjoy this story. đ„șđ for anyone wondering⊠this is how I imagine sylus his build. either way I never know how to write fic in a short format so enjoy another lengthy fic from me again! also because I donât wanna post it in parts youâll have a sneakpeek on tumblr but to read the story in its full length youâll have to head to ao3. thank you and I hope y'all love it as much as I loved writing it! đ title inspired by the song 'provider' by sleep token. (I don't normally listen to that type of music but my bestie leah recommended me this song for the fic) đđđ
ps: for anyone wondering⊠this is how I imagine sylus his build. (without the blood and scratches) đ€đđ€€đ„”đ„Žđ« đ”âđ«
this goes without saying, but if you donât like it donât read it <3
AO3 âą masterlist âą extra part of the story here
New York City does not care about your feelings.
This is something youâve made your peace with over the years â the way it moves around you without slowing down, all noise and glass and cold wind off the Hudson in the early mornings when youâre walking the four blocks from the subway to Linkon Tower, coffee cup in hand, trying to remember if you forwarded that document last night or only dreamed that you did. The city asks nothing of you emotionally. It simply expects you to keep moving.
You are, in this way, well-suited to New York.
What you are less well-suited to â what you have been quietly, privately, catastrophically less well-suited to for approximately three years now â is being in love with your boss.
The elevator opens on the fifty-third floor.
You are fine.
âGood morning.â
His voice reaches you before youâve fully stepped through the glass doors of the executive suite â low and unhurried, carrying the particular warmth he reserves for very few people, and you are, for reasons that keep you awake sometimes, one of them. Sylus is already at his desk, as he always is, as he has always been every single morning in the three years youâve worked for him, because the man apparently does not sleep like a normal person. The Manhattan skyline stretches silver and pale behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. In the early light, he looks almost painterly â silver hair, dark suit, those red eyes lifting from the document in his hand to find you the moment you walk in, the way they always do, like he has a sense for you specifically.
Like he was waiting.
âGood morning,â you say, and you are very proud of how normal your voice sounds.
âHow was the commute?â He asks it with genuine interest, setting his document down, which is one of the things that got you in trouble in the first place. The way he actually listens. The way Sylus, who runs a multi-billion dollar enterprise from this office and commands rooms full of people who are intimidated just by his posture, always has time to ask how your commute was.
âCold,â you say, unwinding your scarf. âThe L train decided this morning was a good time to have an existential crisis.â
âThe L train always does that.â He tilts his head slightly. âYou should have taken the car.â
âIâm not taking your car to work, Sylus.â
âYou could.â
âI know I could. Iâm choosing not to.â You drop your bag at your desk and pull out your tablet, already scrolling to his schedule. âIt makes me feel like a kept woman.â
The silence that follows is approximately one beat too long.
You look up. Sylus is watching you with an expression you canât fully decode â something that passed through his eyes too quickly, smoothed back over by the composed, unreadable surface he wears most of the time. The corner of his mouth curves.
âHeaven forbid,â he says mildly, and goes back to his document.
You turn back to your tablet and breathe.
Three years, you remind yourself. You have survived three years of this. You will survive today.
ïœĄ â°àŒșâ€ïžàŒ»Â°â ïœĄ
Here is what three years has taught you about Sylus:
He takes his coffee black, no sugar, too hot for comfort, and he drinks it while standing at the window with Manhattan spread out below him like something heâs quietly fond of. He is pathologically early to everything and has zero patience for people who arenât, with the single exception of you â for you, he simply comes to find you, appearing at your workspace door with that unhurried patience, as though waiting for you specifically is a different category than waiting in general.
He reads physical documents even though everything could be digital because he thinks better with paper in his hands. He keeps the office two degrees warmer than the building standard because he noticed, in your first winter working for him, that you were always cold. He has never once mentioned this to you directly. You figured it out yourself, six months in, when you checked the buildingâs climate control records out of sheer curiosity, and you had to sit with that knowledge quietly for a long time afterward.
He is privately, genuinely funny â not the performative wit he turns on in meetings, but something dryer and warmer that surfaces only in the quiet moments, usually aimed at you. He reads in at least four languages. He grew up far from here, far from any of this, and there are moments when something in his expression goes distant and careful and you sense the geography of everything heâs built between himself and whatever came before.
He has never raised his voice at you. Not once. In three years of high-pressure deadlines and impossible situations and the particular chaos that seems to follow a man of his ambition, he has never directed anything at you that wasnât measured, and considered, and â underneath its careful composure â surprisingly kind.
He is also tall â unreasonably, almost absurdly tall, the kind of tall that means the rest of the world simply exists lower than him â broad-shouldered, white-haired, and red-eyed, and standing next to him, which requires you to tilt your head back at an angle youâve gotten quietly used to, makes you feel both very small and, inexplicably, very safe.
This is the problem.
This is the entire problem.
ïœĄ â°àŒșâ€ïžàŒ»Â°â ïœĄ
âYou have the Meridian Capital call at nine,â you say, following him into his office with your tablet. This is another part of the choreography â the morning briefing, where you trail after him and he listens without looking at you directly, which you have learned means heâs paying the most attention. âBoard review at eleven. You have a lunch blockââ
âClear it.â
You glance up. âYou specifically asked for that block last week.â
âI know what I asked for last week.â He settles into his chair, leaning back in that easy way of his, long legs stretched under the desk. Even seated, the man is an unfair amount of presence. âBook somewhere for lunch instead. Somewhere quiet â not the Meridian district, Iâll have been on a call with those people for an hour and Iâll want a change of air.â His eyes come to you, and theyâre soft in the way they sometimes are when itâs just the two of you and the morning is still early. âSomewhere youâd like. You choose.â
You pause. âYou want me to choose.â
âIs that not what I said?â
âYouâre very particular about restaurants, Sylus.â
âIâm particular in general,â he concedes. âBut I trust your taste.â A brief pause. The softness in his expression doesnât waver. âLunch for two, somewhere youâd like. Thatâs all.â
You look at him for a moment too long â which you do sometimes, which youâve been doing for three years, and he always holds the look, always lets you, like he has nothing to hide and all the time in the world, which is terrifying because it makes you feel seen â and then you nod and look back at your tablet.
âIâll find somewhere,â you say.
âI know you will.â He picks up his pen. âYou always do.â
ïœĄ â°àŒșâ€ïžàŒ»Â°â ïœĄ
The Meridian call runs long, as you predicted, and you have reorganized two schedules and soothed one very anxious junior analyst by the time it wraps. Sylus emerges from his office at eleven-oh-three, jacket on, expression still and composed from the professional armor he wears in those spaces, and crosses directly to your desk.
He sets a cup of tea down at your elbow.
Your tea â your specific order, the one youâd mentioned offhandedly to him eight months ago and apparently never needed to mention again â brewed at the temperature you like, with the little paper sleeve because the cup gets hot.
âYour eleven oâclock moved to eleven-fifteen,â you tell him, not trusting yourself to acknowledge the tea directly, âwhich means you have twelve minutes, and also I found a restaurant â itâs on the Upper West Side, French-American, supposed to be very quiet on weekdaysââ
âPerfect.â Heâs reading something on his phone, already walking, and he pauses at the edge of your workspace and glances back.
âYou barely ate this morning.â
You blink. âI ate some cereal. How could you possiblyââ
âYou have the look,â he says, simply, like this is a perfectly reasonable thing to say. âThe one that means you ate something that technically qualified as food and decided it counted.â The faintest curve of his mouth. âIt doesnât count.â
âIt absolutelyââ
âBook a table for twelve-thirty.â Heâs already moving again, unhurried, like the conversation is entirely settled. âIâm not signing a single thing until I know youâve had a real meal.â
Then heâs gone, moving down the hallway toward the boardroom, and youâre left staring at the empty doorway with your mouth still open and the faint, traitorous warmth of being known so precisely by someone spreading all the way up to your ears.
You close your mouth.
You book the table and then pick up your tea.
It is perfect.
You are in so much trouble.
ïœĄ â°àŒșâ€ïžàŒ»Â°â ïœĄ
The restaurant he lets you choose is a small place tucked between a bookshop and a dry cleaner on West 74th â French in its bones but soft around the edges, the kind of room that smells like butter and old wood and feels completely removed from the city outside. Youâre not sure how it stays so quiet in Manhattan. Maybe it exists slightly outside of time.
Sylus ducks slightly to come through the door.
He does this â accommodates the worldâs architectures with a patient, practiced ease, as though he accepted a long time ago that most spaces werenât built for him and has made his peace with it. You notice this more than you should. You notice the way he instinctively adjusts when heâs close to you too â angles himself, shortens his step, never makes you feel like the difference in your heights is anything other than simply the way things are.
The host seats you at a corner table. The light is golden and low.
âThis is nice,â Sylus says, and he means it. Youâve gotten good at knowing when he means things.
âI thought youâd like it.â You unfold your menu. âIt feels like somewhere youâd eat if you didnât have to perform anything.â
He goes still for just a moment. Then, quietly: âThatâs a very accurate read.â
âThree years,â you say simply.
Something in his expression moves â warm and careful at once, like heâs handling something he doesnât want to drop. He looks at you across the small table, and in the golden light of this room outside of time he looks different than he does in the office. Younger, almost. Softer. Like the thing he usually holds back with both hands is closer to the surface.
âYouâre distracted this week,â he says eventually. Not an accusation â an observation, offered gently, the way he offers you most things. âYou hide it well. But I know your face.â
Your heart catches.
I know your face. Said like itâs simply a fact, something true and uncontested, filed away somewhere in him.
âI found something,â you say, because you can never not tell him things, in the end. He does something to your defenses â doesnât dismantle them, exactly, just makes you feel like theyâre not necessary with him, which might be worse. âAn apartment. A loft.â You look at your water glass. âIâve been dreaming about my own place for years. You know how New York is â Iâve been in the same sublet since I moved here, and itâs fine, itâs always been fine, but itâs not mine. Nothing in it is mine.â You smile, self-deprecating. âI walked past a listing last weekend. A loft in the West Village â high ceilings, big windows, exposed brick. Thereâs a little terrace that looks out over the rooftops and I just â I stood on the sidewalk and looked at it for a long time.â
Sylus is watching you with his full attention â the specific quality of stillness he gets when youâre saying something he wants to remember. His hands are folded on the table. Heâs not eating. Heâs just listening.
âIt needs renovation,â you continue, quieter now. âA lot of it, still. Which is part of why the price isââ You exhale. âThe price is a lot. More than a lot. My savings are good, Iâve been careful, but between the listing and the renovation costs itâs justââ You shake your head. âItâs not realistic right now.â
A long pause.
âTell me about it,â Sylus says.
You blink. âI justââ
âNot the numbers.â His voice is gentle. âThe place. Tell me about the loft.â
Oh.
Oh.
You look at him. He looks back, patient and entirely serious, and something in your chest aches in a way you donât have good language for.
And so you tell him â the arched windows and the way the afternoon light would fall across the floors, the exposed brick that runs the whole length of the far wall, the little wrought-iron terrace barely big enough for two chairs and a plant but somehow perfect, the ceiling height, the bones of it. The way youâd stood on that sidewalk and seen, with a clarity that surprised you, exactly what it could become. What it could be. You tell him all of it, more than you meant to, more than is probably professional over a two-person lunch that youâre already trying not to read too much into.
Sylus listens to every word.
When you finish, heâs quiet for a moment. Thereâs something in his expression thatâs gone a little careful.
âWhatâs the address?â he says.
You study him. âWhy?â
âBecause youâve just described the place you want most in the world,â he says, very simply, âand Iâm interested in things that matter to you.â
The ache in your chest deepens. You look at him for a long moment â this man who runs a company from the fifty-third floor of a Midtown tower, who is a decade older than you and a foot taller than you and should by any reasonable accounting be the most intimidating person in your life, and who instead feels, in moments like this, like the safest one.
You give him the address.
You donât know what heâll do with it.
You just know, the way you know most things about Sylus, that heâll do something.
ïœĄ â°àŒșâ€ïžàŒ»Â°â ïœĄ
The afternoon passes the way good afternoons in the office do â with a steady rhythm of tasks and small exchanges, the comfortable back-and-forth that youâve built between you over three years like a language that only the two of you speak fluently. He stops by your desk at three to ask if you want anything from the coffee cart downstairs, which he would never do for anyone else, and brings you back a hot chocolate without commenting on it. You catch him at five-forty-five standing in the doorway of his office watching you finish up for the day with an expression you arenât supposed to have seen â unguarded, quiet, something in it that sits low and warm in your stomach for the whole subway ride home.
It doesnât mean what you want it to mean, you tell yourself, earbuds in, Manhattan rushing past outside the windows.
Heâs just kind. Heâs kind to you because you work for him and youâve earned it and thatâs all it is.
Forty-three blocks uptown, Sylus stands at his office window with your address on a notepad in his hand and thinks, for a very long time.
Can I request a smau for all LIs reacting to female reader accidentally messaging him instead of her friend that she likes HIM but she's scared of rejection please?
WRONG CHAT
in which you accidentally confess to the LADS men!
Thank you anon for the idea! Hope you enjoyed it!!
Of course, we don't really know Valko that well yet, so sorry if this ends up feeling a bit OOC later on lol
As always, reblogs are appreciated if you liked it đ€
from a boy whose hand you first held years ago to a man who will do everything in the name of love. marriage suits both you and your husband far too wellâ so well that there might be a little addition soon! but how will he react to it?
genre/warnings:
suggestive, protective!caleb, pregnancy, lots of fluff and crack, domestic bliss, attempt of assassination, hurt/comfort, overall very self-indulgent, spoilers! from calebâs card skyline
note:
caleb is a canon softie :') and i need more fluff too so <3 this is an extension of the colonelâs wife but can also be read as standalone. tagging @kingraspberry12-blog as per request
Caleb knows you are hiding something.
It had been two weeks since you started avoiding himâand if you thought you were doing a good job pulling wool over his eyes, you were sorely mistaken. He saw through every forced laugh and brittle smile, yet chose to play along and let you keep the illusion of normalcy for as long as you needed it.
But the question remains⊠what could possibly be grave enough that you'd rather carry it alone than turn to him?
At first, he thought it was momentary and chose not to pry.
But then days stretched on, and on one fateful day after you went to work, he discovered an empty box of your contraceptive pills thrown away in the trash.
That was where he drew the lineâhis amethyst eyes hardened and narrowing with unmistakable displeasure. Why are you still taking them?
That night, you went home earlier.
You hadnât been feeling well lately, yet you kept telling yourself you were fineâeverything had happened so suddenly and you were still sorting through your thoughts.
What you hadnât expected was to find your husband home early, too.
âAh, youâre home?â
Naked, no less.
Caleb stood there in nothing but his boxers. You actually gulped, blinking at his chiseled absâand that suspiciously large bulgeâbefore you.
âCaleb⊠why... arenât you wearing anything?â
The stunned way you gawked at him almost made him laugh. He had always adored how easily your expressions gave you away, and now as you looked positively confused between admiring his body or questioning him, you looked especially endearing.
Still, he was on a mission tonight.
He didnât answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer. You dumbly blinked.
One step. Then another.
Your back met the wall before you realized youâd retreated at all. Calebâs arms came up beside your head, caging you inânot touching, not yet, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.
âCaught you,â he murmured, gaze dropping to your lips, a sly smile curving his face.
Your heart started pounding despite yourself, because hey, it had been a whileâ
But then your voice got caught in your throat when his sharp eyes pierced you straightâ
âTell me. What exactly have you been hiding from me?â
âUh, whaââ
âYou are hiding something from me.â
âCaleb, thatâsââ
âWhat is it?â
His larger figure loomed over you, overwhelming as if you were faced with the Farspace Colonel instead of your gentle husband, and suddenly you felt smallâlike a rabbit cornered with nowhere left to run.
âN-Nothing...â
So you still wouldnât admit it. It irritated Caleb so suddenly.
âNothing, huh? What a liar.â
His mouth claimed yours in a rough kiss then, unyielding and demanding, like he was trying to wrench the truth out of you through force. You froze in shock, barely given a moment to reactâ
He shoved himself closer, his hardened crotch started grinding against you. Your head spunâbut when his hand slid inside your blouse and closed around your breast, the pain was immediate and sharp, tearing a shriek from you.
âS-stop!â
Caleb pulled back almost instantly, his hand retreating as if burned. Your reaction was wrongâyou were never this sensitive. His eyes widened as the haze cleared, gaze dropping to where you instinctively clutched yourself, shoulders hunched.
ââŠHey.â Calebâs voice lowered, the edge dulling into something tight with concern and guilt as he realized it was because of him. âWhatâs going on?â
He reached out again, slower this time, stopping before touching you. His jaw clenched, frustration warring with worry as he searched your face. You looked away, biting your lips in shame.
Do you really have tell him now?
ââŠYou were taking those pills,â he accused then. âWhy? Do you not want us to haveââ
Oh, to hell with it.
âIâm pregnant!â
Silence. Caleb blinked at your words, taking them in. Of all the possibilities heâd braced himself for, this was the last one heâd expected.
But then he realized, everything made total sense.
The way your hand would drift to your abdomen when you thought he wasnât looking. How you looked more exhausted as of late. Your dwindling appetite, the half-finished meals...
There was going to be your babyâalso his babyâsooner than he had ever imagined.
Meanwhile, all you wanted to do was runâcrawl back into a pillow fortress and hide from Caleb, just like you used to years ago. Your face burned, you were scared, and there were many things running in your mind as one, this was totally not planned and two, you couldn't predict how your husband would react at all.
Though, really⊠with the amount of sex you did, especially that last time, of course this would happen sooner than later!
âYou are...â
You met his eyes again, and despite all your fears, the look you found there stole your breath away. His gaze softened completely, filled with quiet wonder as it lingered on you.
Then, slowlyâalmost reverentlyâhis large hand rose and settled against your belly. Still flat, still unchanged, yet to him, it already held everything.
âOhâŠâ he breathed, and you could have sworn his eyes glistened then.
âCalebââ You didnât get to finish. His expression broke into pure, unrestrained joy. The grin that spread across his face was dazzlingâthe one you loved most, the one that made him look younger and lighter.
Before you could react, his arms were around you, strong and sure as he lifted you clean off the ground. You gasped as he spun you around, crisp laughter tumbling out of him, breathless and giddy, like he couldnât quite contain himself.
âWeâreââ he laughed, almost incredulous. âWe are reallyâ!â
Caleb pulled you closer against his chest, holding you as if afraid to let go now, forehead pressing to yours as he exhaled, still smiling too wide.
âWeâre going to be parents,â he said, joy ringing through every word, dark purple eyes locking yours with so much love. And despite yourself, you laughed too.
You felt silly now for being afraid telling him at all. What do you have to fear when Caleb has always, unfailingly, been by your side?
âYeah... we do,â you said with a wide smile. âThatâs why I stopped taking the pills.â
Now it all clicked. His previous thoughts made Caleb purse his lips. There was no way he could let that standâhis pride would take a hit if you didnât want to carry his child.
How silly of him to think that when he was about to get a taste of heaven. A child, a result from love the two of you shared, would soon be born in this world. A precious treasureâ one he would guard with his life.
Caleb squeezed your fingers, still smiling as he gave you his promise. âMark my words. Youâre not doing this alone. Not for a second.â
Caleb was serious when he said you weren't doing this alone.
For almost every check up, he was there beside you, hand firm around yours, listening to every word the doctor said as if it were law.
âIs there anything that can help with the nausea?â Caleb asked, concern breaking through his usually even tone. âSheâs been throwing up a lotâsometimes even at night.â
âOh, sure. I'll prescribe something for that.â
âAnd could you recommend supplements beyond folic acid and iron?â he added without missing a beat. âWhatâs the best prenatal vitamin brand right now?â
The doctor paused, somewhat taken aback, before nodding and writing everything he requested. Once the consultation wrapped up, she turned to you with a warm, knowing smile.
âWell, you are lucky,â she said lightly. âYou certainly have a very caring husband.â
. . .
At home, chores you used to split became his domain. Laundry, cleaning, errandsâhe handled them without complaint, without being asked.
âYou used to nag me about chores,â you teased, watching him run the vacuum across the floor. Your voice turned sing-song as you settled comfortably on the couch. âNow I get to sit here and be a princess~â
Caleb glanced your way, a half-chuckle leaving him.
âJust for nine months. Enjoy it while it lasts, Princess Pipsqueak.â
Though he knew deep down that once the baby arrived, he wouldnât let you lift a finger then either.
. . .
âCaleeeb, I want those lemon-flavored sourdough!â
âWha?â
If there was one thing he secretly liked the most since youâd become pregnant, it was how shamelessly spoiled and clingy youâd become.
Though⊠your cravings were getting downright outrageous.
âAnd not just any lemon,â you added, hands moving as if shaping the idea in midair. âIt has to be really sour. With crunchy edges. If it doesnât make my face scrunch up, then itâs wrong.â
Your eyes gleamed with fierce determination, as though the balance of the universe depended on that single loaf. Your husband stared at you for a beat before laughing, shaking his head in disbelief.
ââŠYou do realize this is highly unreasonable,â he said, already pulling out his phone to check nearby bakeries anyway.
âNuh-uh. The baby wants it, so itâs totally reasonable.â
He shot you a sideways look. âYou hate lemonsâand donât you say itâs because the baby is half of me. Are you just getting revenge for all the times I teased you when we were kidsâŠ?â
And you crisply giggled, latching onto his arm with a sly smile. âThe baby is exacting revenge. Iâd call it karma.â
Oh, this is bad. With hormones as your ultimate excuse, you could make him do just about anything. You and his unborn child had him completely wrapped around your pinky already.
âGet me soooome.â
âIâll try, Iâll try...â
And judging by the smug and utterly cute smile you gave him, he already knew there was no universe where he wouldnât come back with that crunchy lemon-sour loaf for you and your baby.
. . .
âBy now, baby is the size of a sweet potatoâŠâ
Caleb read the line aloud from his phone. Over the past months, this had become his little ritualâchecking the baby app every now and then to get info about the growth of the baby, reading through the articles with almost comical seriousness.
You watched him, warmth blooming in your chest. It was hard to miss how utterly in love he was with the life growing inside you.
Caleb set his phone aside and reached for you then, his hand settling over the gentle swell of your bare belly. He patted it absently at first, then more deliberately, thumb brushing slow, careful circles.
âSweet potato,â he murmured fondly, as if speaking directly to the baby. âGrow big and strong, okay? Eat well from your momâIâm making sure she has plenty of good food.â
You nudged him playfully, laughing. âDonât call our baby sweet potato! Thatâs the worst nickname ever.â
You leaned into him, head resting against his shoulder, and Caleb pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head. His hand remained over your belly, and for a moment, the world outside faded away.
Caleb had always been your steadfast protector against lifeâs bitterness. And in that quiet moment, memories of everything youâd endured before came rushing back.
Your vibrant childhood, carefree high school days, the separation when Caleb first went to the Aerospace Academy, that terrible explosion, and finally reuniting with the man heâd become: the feared Farspace Colonelâ
With quiet certainty, you lifted your head and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, catching him off guard.
âYeah⊠even in the next life, I want to be your meimei again,â you said, eyes sparkling as he turned towards you. âIf it means having this life with you, then Iâd go through everything all over again.â
Caleb gazed at you, the softest of smile tugging at his lips. He remembered you saying something like this too long agoâbut he had his own answer to that.
âNo. Like I said, in the next life, I donât want to be just your childhood friend or your brotherâŠâ
His hand lifted to cup your face, brushing your cheeks gently.
âI want to be your childhood friend, who never leaves your side. Your brother, who protects you from everythingâŠâ
The way he looked at you... ever so tender that you almost tear up.
âAnd above all⊠Your husband, who loves you even as the world falls apart. I want to be all of them.â
A rush of pure, unadulterated happiness swelled inside you, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him. Caleb responded, pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.
Then you whispered in his ear, giddy and breathless, âOur baby⊠sheâs a girl, you know.â
He hadnât been able to come with you to todayâs checkup due to work. Caleb froze for a heartbeat, processing the news. The thought hit him like a tideâ
Another princess to spoil and cherish.
He hadnât realized he wanted a daughter until this very moment.
Without another word, he pulled you closer, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deep, fierce, and gentle all at once. His hands settled firmly on your widened hipsâwhere the testament of your love grew, as the full weight of his feelings flooded through you, reaching deep into your soul.
Even with your pregnancy, Calebâs demanding role as the Farspace Colonel didnât pause. His duties were constant, and the weight of responsibility always loomed like a shadow.
One evening, you attended the Fleetâs yearly banquet together. You were dressed to the ninesâhair perfectly styled, and wrapped in beige evening gown that accentuated your figure, meanwhile Caleb looked imposing and untouchable in his white uniform.
In front of these people, Colonel Caleb was all discipline and precision, stripped of the warmth he showed you at home. The only hint of the man you knew was the possessive arm he kept on your waist throughout the evening.
For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, expecting the night to pass smoothly.
âI think Iâll head to the restroom,â you said then when you felt the need to, nudging him with a practiced smile as the two of you were still in a conversation with a lieutenant.
âAre you sure youâre alright?â His gaze sharpened immediately. âDo you want me to come with you?â
âNo, no,â you said, waving him off, and he reluctantly let you go.
His eyes stayed on you as you walked away. The lieutenant noticed and laughed. âColonel, sheâs not going anywhere. Expecting women just tend to visit bathroom a lot.â
Even knowing that, Calebâs unease didnât fade. He couldnât shake the sense that danger was lurking just beyond the glittering lights, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And his gut feeling was proven soon enough.
Gunshots rang out, cutting through the orchestraâs music and the chatter of high-ranking officers. Screams echoed across the hall, crystal glasses shattered, and chaos erupted in an instant.
Panic surged through him as he took out his gun. Calebâs blood ran cold. He had to get to youânow.
The hall had become unrecognizableâsmoke in the air, overturned tables, guests scrambling in blind panic. Caleb pushed through it all with ruthless focus, barking orders as he moved, his eyes scanning every corner.
Another shot rang out nearby. He didnât flinch.
âClear the west exit,â he snapped into his comm, already moving in the opposite direction. You wouldnât run toward the exits. Youâd hide. In your condition now, he knew you wouldnât take risks.
His instincts pulled him toward a service corridor near the restrooms. The lights flickered there, half the hallway plunged into shadow. He slowed, senses sharp.
Then he heard it. A soft, broken breath. Caleb turnedâand saw you.
You were crouched behind a toppled decorative screen, shoulders trembling as you struggled to stay silent. Your eyes were wide, glassy with fear, one hand pressed protectively over your belly.
Relief hit him so hard it almost knocked the air from his lungs.
âY/N!â
You looked up at the sound of his voice, and the moment your eyes met his, everything youâd been holding back shattered. âCalebâŠâ
He was at your side in seconds, dropping to his knees and pulling you into his arms without hesitation.
âIâve got you,â he said firmly. âYouâre safe. Iâm here.â
Your fingers clutched his uniform like it was the only solid thing left in the world. He felt the tremor in your body, the shallow breaths you were trying and failing to control.
âI was waiting for you... I didnât want to be caught in the crossfire.â
âI know. You did exactly right,â he muttered, lifting you to your feet. âCan you walk?â
You nodded, though a small flinch betrayed you as you took your first step.
Another distant shout echoed down the hall. Calebâs jaw tightened, instincts snapping back into place. âFollow me.â
Caleb didnât loosen his grip as he guided you through the smoke-filled corridor, his body angled slightly in front of yours. One hand stayed firm around you, the other ready with his gun, eyes constantly scanning ahead.
Your heart poundedânot only from fear, but from the way he shielded you so completely, as though nothing in the world was allowed to reach you while he stood.
The exit was finally in sight, whenâ
Bang! A gunshot cracked through the air.
Caleb reacted without thinking.
He twisted, yanking you hard against his chest as his body turned fully between you and the sound. The impact came a split second laterâ a blindsiding burn tearing across his side. He grunted.
âCaleb!â You screamed, clutching him as you realized heâd taken the bullet.
He didnât falter. His arm clamped around you, forcing you completely behind him as he drove you forward, jaw locked tight.
âIâm fine,â he snapped harshly, looking at you squarely in the eyes, though his breath hitched. âGo!â
Then he turned back. At point-blank range, his gun came upâsteady, merciless, and fired at its target in a blink of an eye. Bang!
The dead body of your attacker dropped almost at your feet.
You stared at him, frozen in shock. This was your husband, standing between you and death without a second thought.
But then his grip slipped. Blood was soaking through his pristine uniform now, dark and spreading far too fast.
âCalebâŠ!â Your voice broke as his knees gave out.
You barely caught him in time, arms trembling as his full weight collapsed against you. His head fell forward, consciousness slipping as blood loss finally claimed its price.
âCalebânoâno, pleaseâ!â
Your frantic cries were heartbreaking to hear, but at least you were safe. Between you and him, heâd made that choice a long time ago.
If someone had to get hurt, it should always be him.
When Caleb came to hours later, pain greeted him firstâsharp, pulsing, a reminder that his body had taken more than it should have.
And even in pain, his first thought was you.
He tried to sit up immediately, muscles spasming in protest as agony ripped through his side. A sharp hiss escaped him, but he ignored it, hands gripping the edge of the bed as he forced himself upright.
âWhere is she?â Caleb demanded hoarsely, scanning the sterile room like you might be hiding just out of sight. âMy wifeâwhere is she?â
A familiar face stepped into his line of vision, one of his peers from the Fleet. âSheâs safe,â he reported. âShe was brought in right after you. She is finishing her saline now.â
Why were you brought here too? Were you hurt after he passed out? Panic hit him so hard it left him dizzy.
âTake me to her,â Caleb said at once, already swinging his legs over the bed despite the pain. âNow.â
âColonel, you were shotâ!â
Thankfully, before he could make it out of the bed, the door slid open, and he snapped his head towards it.
You stood there, pale and shaken, IV pole beside you, eyes red and glassy the moment you found him. Relief flooded him the moment he saw you.
âCalebââ
However, your voice broke, and you crossed the room in a rush, tears spilling freely as you clutched at him like you were afraid heâd disappear if you let go. He caught you instantly, one arm wrapping around you despite the sting of his injuries, pulling you against his chest.
You sobbed into him, fingers twisting in the fabric of his hospital gown. âYou scared m-me!â you cried. âYou s-scared me so muchâŠâ
His hand came up to cradle your head, holding you there as his own racing heart finally began to slow. âShh, itâs okay...â
âDonât you ever pull something like that again!â You were shaking in his arms, choked up by your tears. âWhat if youâd been hurt worse? What would I do then?!â
Your words cut deep. The raw fear woven in your voice made him still.
For a fleeting, bitter second, he got a flashbackâthe way youâd once said you didnât need him, spoken so spitefully.
But now...
Now you were trembling against him, terrified at the thought of losing him, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.
âHey, donât cry...â Caleb shushed, rubbing slow circles against your back, his chest aching painfully at the sight of you. âStop crying⊠Iâll be fine, alright? Iâll be back on my feet before you know it.â
Now there was also a baby growing inside you, fragile, depending on him just as much as you did.
While he wasnât able to promise you that heâd stop putting himself in harmâs way for you, Caleb finally understood this much: his life mattered far more than he had ever allowed himself to believe.
Ever since the incident, youâd been placed on occasional bedrest. You hadnât been physically injured, but the shock alone had been enough to make you bleed twice.
And Caleb became more overprotective than ever.
From then on, he watched you like a hawk. Too quiet? He was at your side. A wince, a shift in posture, even a flicker of discomfortâand he was instantly alert, hand already reaching for you, voice tight with concern.
âAre you okay?â
âDoes it hurt?â
âDo you need to lie down?â
Nothing slipped past him. Not anymore. You caught him hovering constantly, and every time you reassured him, he noddedâbut the tension never fully left his shoulders.
You almost thought it was suffocating. Yet one night, after a particularly bad cramp that left you curled in on yourself and drifting at the edge of sleep, you heard him whispering to your bellyâ
âI love both of you so much, okay? So please, be safe and healthy always.â
His palm rested protectively over your bump, thumb moving in slow circles, as if he could soothe both of you at once.
And you realizedâ Caleb had always been this way, and your heart ached warmly because of it.
. . .
âCaleb, what are you doing?â
By the time you reached your eighth month, your movements had slowed, your days quieter. One afternoon, you found him in the nursery, legs crossed on the floor with the instruction manual spread out in front of him.
The baby crib stood half-assembled. You stared at it, equal parts surprised and impressed.
Meanwhile, he frowned at it like it was an enemy combatant.
âWell, well~â you teased in a sing-song voice. âWhat do we have here? Will Caleb finish the crib⊠or will the crib finish him?â
He gave you a stink eye. âIâve got this,â he retorted. âI just need to go through this... and the crib will be done in no time.â
You perched on the nearby couch, arching your sore spine as you watched him work. His movements were careful, each screw tightened with the same focus he used to have when he crammed for exams back in school⊠except now, it was for something so small.
Despite yourself, memories surfaced on their own. Mornings from your childhood, him standing behind you, fingers clumsy yet careful as he tied ribbons into your hair.
âArenât you the cutest?â heâd always say afterward, even if the ribbons sat a little crooked.
âYay! It's so pretty, Caleb!â
The memory unwittingly brought tears to your eyes. Oh, your hormones were messing you up again, because the very thought thatâ
One day, those same hands would tie ribbons into your daughterâs hair too. He was going to be such a good father.
Caleb glanced up just in time to catch the shine in your eyes. âHey,â he was immediately concerned, abandoning the screwdriver. He moved closer and dropped to one knee to match your height. âWhatâs wrong? Is something hurt?â
The way his amethyst eyes looked at you with such worry made your heart lurch. You shook your head, laughing softly. âNo⊠I was just thinking.â
âThinking about what?â
âAbout how you used to do my hair when we were kids.â
Caleb blinked at your words, and you reached for his hand, pressing it over your belly.
âAnd how youâre going to do that for her too.â
For a second, he looked stunnedâthen his expression softened in a way that made your heart stutter.
ââŠYeah,â he said quietly, ruffling your hair fondly with his other hand. âI will.â
Moments like this made it sink in just how much of your life had been intertwined with his. You grew up side by side, once seeing him as your dependable brother, until those feelings blossomed into something more.
And Caleb had always been the same. No matter how hard he tried to keep his distance, he was inevitably drawn back to you.
In every version of himself, you were there.
From a boy who had dreams, to the fighter pilot chasing the skyline, to the colonel shaped by traumaâ in the end, he was just a man who guarded your heart fiercely, as he gave a part of his in yours.
The day came before you knew it.
A horrible, blinding pain tore through your abdomen, stealing the air from your lungs as you gasped for breath. Your fingers clawed into the sheets as another wave crashed over you, stronger, tighterâ
Somewhere through the haze of pain, you heard your own voice calling out his nameâ
And a strong hand closed around yours that instant, Calebâs voice grounding you even as everything spun.
Your labor had started in the dead of the night. From the moment it began, Caleb never left your side. He held you through every contraction, soothing you when the excruciating pain threatened to pull you apartâ even as his own anxiety spiked with every passing hour that drew you closer to birthing your daughter.
This is really happening.
Watching you endure that much agony was almost too much for him to bear. Flushed face, damp forehead, your hoarse wails echoing in the roomâeach cry cutting straight through his chest as you fought to bring your child into the world.
Then, after what seemed like foreverâ
In a single, breathless hazeâ
It was over. His daughter was born.
She fit perfectly in his arms, small and warm, wrapped tight in soft pink blanket. Wisps of hair peeked out as she shifted, releasing the faintest coos and drowsy little sounds.
Caleb fell in love again that instant, because her hair, tiny face, hands and feet were undeniably you. The only thing sheâd taken from him was, ohâ
Her eyes. Youâd always told him how beautiful his eyes were, but it wasnât until he saw them reflected in his daughter that he truly believed it.
âSheâs so damn pretty already...â
âCaleb, donât cuss!â
Seeing you out of the ordeal, still messy and exhausted, but very much still you, made Caleb emotional.
Throughout his whole life, heâd known his feelings for you. And now that you had given him a daughter... he realized with such clear clarity thatâ
âOf course sheâs pretty... Iâm her mother,â you said with a playful smirk, poking your newbornâs chubby cheeks. âYou should thank me for fixing your genes.â
Caleb chuckled, pulling you close. âWhat? You are the one who should be thankful. She is going to be as smart as me.â
He is utterly, irrevocably, hopelessly in love with you.
You snorted, rolling your eyes. Even on the day your daughter was born, the two of you couldnât resist your playful banter.
But deep downâŠ
âYeah⊠Caleb is the coolest, best of the best!â
You rested your head against his chest, and he was taken aback at firstâ because the last he heard you telling him that was so long ago, in the throes of your blissful younger days.
âand then he kissed the top of your hair, heart full, knowing this was exactly where he was meant to be.
Wrapped in each otherâs arms, with your daughter sleeping peacefully between you, everything finally felt like home.
after years being by caleb's side, you realize you want more. but it seems like he's avoiding it on purpose... what does he think about putting a ring on your finger, really?
genre/warnings:
18+ suggestive contentâminors do not interact!âestablished relationship, crack, arguments, hurt/comfort, explicit smut, fluff, bratty!reader and manipulative!caleb (but he's sooo stricken when you're hurt)
notes:
if it isn't clear by now, i'm an unapologetic caleb simp :') and the bridgerton s4 bathtub scene is messing up with my mind so...
One must know how to restrain their greed, they said.
âSleep with me tonight!â
However, you knew for a fact that patience was your lowest virtue. So you might as well said it bluntly, recklessly, right to his face.
Caleb, who was demurely sitting on the sofa, looked up at you. His hand, which had been turning the page of his book, froze midway. And for a theatrical effect, he didnât react at all.
You stood there, swaying ever so slightly. Your expression was serious. Determined, even.
...though the faint flush dusting your cheeks and the unmistakable smell of alcohol clinging to you betrayed your brave face.
âWhat?â His head tilted to the side then, lips twitching as he held back a laugh.
What brought this on? Even your mind wondered amidst your haze. Maybe it was because you had feel too much, seen too muchâ
You squared your shoulders, lifting your chin with bold conviction that might have been impressiveâif not for the way you tipped forward and tumbled to him.
Caleb reacted instantly, catching you and drawing you into him. You landed in his lap, your legs tangling with his as though they belonged there.
âI said,â you repeated, slower this time, peering up at him with a petulant look as you jabbed a finger into his chest in a futile attempt to gain authority, âsleep with me tonight.â
He squeezed your sides, dashing smile on his face. ââŠYouâre drunk.â
âAm not.â
âYouââ Caleb gave up halfway, bursting into snickers despite himself. You looked utterly adorable to him, all needy and flushed, trying to make him pay attention to you.
Meanwhile, you stared at him, affronted. He was laughing at you, who had just gathered every ounce of courage in your body (assisted by liquid courage, no less) to deliver such a bold, life-altering declaration.
Your finger poked his chest again, weaker this time. âTake me seriously.â
âYeah, yeah...â he said, though the curve of his lips betrayed him. You narrowed your eyes, while his amethyst ones crinkled at you.
He shouldnât look at you like that. Not with that softness. Not with that endearing, indulging fondness that made your heart stutter in your chest and your resolve increased tenfold.
You loved being in Calebâs arms. You felt thoroughly protected, sheltered, loved. And everyone around you was having proposals, engagements, weddingsâ
So why hadnât he...?
âYouââ you continued, raising your head as if presenting a compelling argument, âYou can do whatever you want to me tonight.â
So many years. You had been by Calebâs side for so long, spent in longing and yearning, and you were dying to step towards the future with him. In your hazy thoughts, you thought that if you offered yourself to him, then it would compel him to somehow fulfill your wishes.
Calebâs brow arched slightly, his smile never fading. But his eyes changed. They sharpened, searching your face as if trying to separate courage from impulse.
ââŠWhatever I want?â he repeated carefully.
You nodded firmlyâor at least, what you thought was firmlyâyour grip tightening in his shirt.
âYouâre sure?â
âYes.â
âYou wonât regret it tomorrow?â
You frowned at him. âYou ask too many questions.â
Caleb leaned closer then, his nose bobbed lightly against yours in a soft nudge. The gesture was intimate in a way that made your breath catch.
He exhaled, the sound warm against your lips.
ââŠOkay,â he nodded at last. âJust donât blame me later.â
Your heart skipped, stumbling over itself as anticipation grew. Even if you couldnât have your dreams of future, you could still have thisâhis attention, his warmth wrapped around you tonight.
And then, with a final tone that made your silly heart face even faster, he sealed it with:
âTonight, youâre staying with me.â
. . .
âCaleeeeb!â
You whined, full of outrage as you twisted in Calebâs arms, visibly irate and ready to roast him alive.
Your scheming lover, spooning you from behind with one arm draped over your waist, merely hummed, âMm-hm? What is it, meimei?â
âWhat is this?!â you demanded, gesturing vaguely at everythingâmost notably, the the audacity of this man.
Apparently, the âwhateverâ that he meant⊠was too far from your imagination.
The moment he got you into his room, Caleb had guided you to his bed with gentleness. Before you could even begin to prepare yourself, he reached over and switched on the fan.
On the highest setting. The blades whirred to life, sending a powerful stream of air cascading over you both. And then, as if that werenât enough, he grabbed the remote from his bedside table and turned on the air conditioner too.
Also to the coldest setting.
âYou said I could do whatever I wanted,â he drawled in your ear, tightening his hold on you. âI want to cuddle.â
âGrrâŠâ you growled under your breath, frustrated beyond words.
The sheer absurdity cleared away all your drunken haze. This was not how this was supposed to go! It was supposed to be a night of unrestrained passionâ but now you were freezing, with him turning you into his body pillow.
But Caleb... He was relishing in your frustration. And worst of allâhe was winning, again.
So actually, it all started ever since you attended Jennaâs wedding.
Seeing your usually no-nonsense captain standing there in a stunning wedding dress had stirred something inside you. The way her voice trembled and teared up as she recited her vows nearly brought tears to your own eyes.
And somewhere between the exchange of vows and the way her partner looked at herâas if she were the only person in the worldâyou found yourself thinking of Caleb.
The years you had spent at his side. The way he kissed you without hesitation. The way he said your name like it belonged to him. All the memories you had shared... amplified with the scene of eternal vows before you, you thought you had reached clarity.
You wanted that forever with him.
However you didnât know whether it was your own imagination or not, but you had this hunch that Caleb deliberately avoided this topic as much as possibleâ
. . .
There was this one time when you passed by a popular boutique, and your eyes practically sparkled as you stared at the intricate, lacy gowns.
âCaleb, those wedding dresses are beautifulââ
âNot if youâre the one wearing them, pipsqueak. You will trip on the hem within three steps and take out half the guests like bowling pins.â
âYouâ!â
. . .
There was another time. You were sitting on his lap after a long day, his arm slung around you while you leaned against his sturdy chest.
âCaleeeb. If we ever got marriedââ
âOh, Lord, give me strength.â
âWhat?!â
âIf I marry you,â he snorted, âI will be left with house bills debts. Why?â He gestured at you with his jaw. âBecause someone will spend the entire budget on snacks.â
ââ?! I donât eat that much!â
âIâve seen you demolish a family-sized dessert by yourself. And then thereâs also groceries,â he continued mercilessly. âIâd go bankrupt.â
âThat is husbandly duty!â you shot back indignantly. âA husband provides for his wife!â
âYouâre not a wife. Youâre a long-term financial crisis.â
âIdiot! Thatâs slander, Iâm suing you!â
. . .
The latest was when you were both walking through the market, weaving through the noisy crowd of vendors and shoppers. Caleb held your hand in his while you walked beside him, occasionally pointing at random stalls.
Then you spotted a jewelry stand. Rings glinted under the sunlight, neatly arranged in velvet trays.
âCaleb.â
He didnât even look. âNo.â
Your eye twitched. âI didnât even say anything.â
âYou didnât have to.â
âLook, just look at the rings!â
Caleb finally glanced down, then immediately looked away like the metal had personally offended him. âThose are overpriced.â
âYou didnât even check the price!â
âI can feel it spiritually.â
. . .
No, now you were certain. Caleb could face anything, except a wedding conversation with you.
It would be a lie to say you werenât a little disappointed. But how else could you bring this up again when he kept deflecting it so many times?
Sighing, you pushed the thought aside.
By the time you arrived back home, the sky had already begun to dim into the soft gold of evening. The place still looked unfamiliar sometimesâdespite the fact that it had once been yours.
Your childhood home. Except now the crooked fence had been replaced, the porch repaired, and the roof no longer sagged under its own age. Caleb had spent weeks fixing it up, refusing to let you help with most of the heavy work.
âIf weâre going to live here, might as well make sure the roof doesnât collapse on us,â he had said at the time. The thought made you smile.
You pushed the door open, but just as you stepped inside, voices drifted from the living room.
ââŠfigured Iâd drop by,â someone was saying from beyond the partition.
You immediately recognized the voiceâ Gideon, Calebâs old classmate during his Aerospace Academy years. Your brows lifted slightly in surprise, it had been a while since the last he visited.
You were taking off your shoes, thinking about announcing yourself when the two friendsâ conversation suddenly took another turn.
âDonât youâ timeâ settle down?â
The new partition Caleb had installed was made from some kind of soundproof material, so the conversation beyond it reached you only in snippets.
âCome on.â You heard Gideonâs faint chuckle next. âYouâ playing house already.â
A short pause followed before Calebâs voice answered, âThatâs not it...â
The response must have caught Gideon off guard, because when he spoke again, his voice was louder that you could hear it almost clearly.
âSo what? You never think about it? Actually settling down?â
Your breath caught as their conversation sank in. For a moment, there was silenceâ
Then Caleb laughed lightly.
âWith everythingâ? No.â
Huh? You stood there in silence, unmoving, too stunned to think.
You didnât want to jump to conclusions, but⊠wasnât that exactly what it sounded like?
Suddenly, what Caleb did all this time made total sense. It hadnât been playful avoidance. He never thought to settle down with everythingâwith you. He simply didnât want it.
Your throat felt tight.
The only thought ringing in your mind was to leave before either of them could notice you. Almost staggering, you slipped the door open again and closed it just as softly behind you as you stepped outside. The evening air greeted you once more, cooler now than when you had first arrived.
For a moment, you remained standing on the porch, staring at the fading gold of the sky as the daylight slowly drained away. Your chest burnedâa painful knot forming there, feeling betrayed more than anything else.
You just⊠didnât want to be here.
Anywhere else would be better than here.
So, before you could think too much about it, you walked away.
Hours passed, and the disappointment and sadness that had hollowed you out had dulled into resentment.
After you left home, you wandered through the shopping district without really seeing any of it. Store lights flickered as evening deepened into night. You grabbed convenience store bento box for your dinner, quietly pre-heating it and eating in the corner.
As the night went on, crowds thinned and vendors began packing their stalls, yet you kept walking.
Your phone buzzed again in your handâperhaps for the tenth time. With a tired sigh, you glanced down at the screen, your lips pressing into a thin line.
Seven missed calls. All from Caleb. He left you many messages too.
[06.32 pm]
still working? i went home early today to cook your fav braised chicken :D
[06.40 pm]
oh yeah grab a ketchup on the way home, will you? i'll add it to the seasoning later
[07.15 pm]
...hello? am i being ghosted :( that's it. i'm not feeding you tonight
[07.58 pm]
hey nevermind the ketchup. i went out already so you just come back, okay?
[08.30 pm]
not coming back home yet?
[09.00 pm]
it's late. are you okay? where are you?
[09.14 pm]
answer my calls. why didn't you pick them at all?
All his messages were normal as if the words you overheard earlier hadnât carved straight through you. You let out a bitter laugh, because you had known for a long time that Caleb had always been cunning... but how could he be that cold to you?
Your phone buzzed again and you let it ring. Two more calls you ignored before the screen lit up once more, his name flashing insistently. You decided to pick it up at last.
âFinally.â His exhale was audible through the phone, like heâd been holding his breath for hours. But the next second, his tone sharpened. âWhere are you? Why didnât you pick up my calls?â
The question unexpectedly struck a nerve in you.
âWhat is it to you anyway?â you snapped. âIâm not a kid so I can wander anywhere I want.â
There was a brief pause. ââŠWhat? Of course Iâm worried when youâre not answering my messages. Did something happen? Why are youââ
Your vision blurred as tears welled in your eyes. You were so tired of thisâthis pretend family, the way he showed concern for you. All it did was make you hope for something more⊠something you couldnât even attain.
âCaleb,â you said finally, your voice suddenly steady. âIâve been thinking. I think itâs for the best if we live separately from now on.â
âWhatââ He actually choked on the word. âWhyâ No. Where are you? Iâll come get you firstââ
âI think itâs better that way.â
âNo, itâs not!â he refuted immediately, panic beginning to edge into his voice. âYouâre upset. We can talk when I get thereââ
âThereâs nothing to talk about.â
âWe clearly have a lot to talk about.â
âCalebââ
âJust tell me where you are.â
Your stubbornness only seemed to make him more desperate.
âStop this,â he said, the sharpness gone now, replaced with something strained. âLook, Iâm sorry, alright? Whatever it is, Iâll make it right, but for now you have to go back first. Tell me where you are and Iâll be there in five, I promise.â
In all the years you had known himâthrough every stubborn standoff and childish fight when you were youngerâyou couldnât remember a single time Caleb had apologized first when he hadnât actually done anything wrong. He was always the type to dig into the problem, demand answers, argue until the truth came out before offering an apology.
But now he sounded almost desperate, trying to reason with you.
The realization softened something in your chest. The wall of hurt you had built over the past few hours cracked, just a little.
Maybe you could talk it through. Maybe you had jumped to conclusions⊠You should at least hear him out.
You opened your mouth to tell him where you were, but before you couldâ
CRASHHH!
A deafening roar tore through the street, and the ground lurched violently beneath your feet. For a split second, everything went white as a blast wave slammed into you. Your phone flew from your hand as the force knocked you off balanceâ
The line went dead.
âHuh...?â
Caleb frowned at the sudden silence when the call had been cut out. He heard that sound of explosionâit wasnât loud from where he stood but it was enough to make the windows tremble faintly in their frames.
His grip on the phone tightened. âHey!â he barked into the receiver, though the call had already dropped. âAnswer me!â
A cold, creeping dread tightened in his chest. Youâ
Caleb didnât think after that.
He bolted for the door, nearly wrenching it off its hinges as he threw it open. The cool night air hit his face as he sprinted down the steps two at a time. His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
No. Caleb broke into a full sprint down the street, his mind betrayed him with a thousand terrible imagesâof you lying motionless on the pavement, blood spreading beneath you while your phone lay discarded nearby.
âDonât you dareâŠâ he muttered under his breath, jaw clenched tight.
You had to be fine.
You had to be.
He pushed himself faster, lungs screaming, heart hammering like it might tear itself apart as the distant glow of flashing emergency lights began to stain the night sky ahead.
. . .
By the time he reached the city center, the place had descended into chaos.
A building had completely collapsed. Calebâs breath caught in his throat as his eyes darted across the devastation.
Concrete and twisted metal spilled across the road, clouds of dust still drifting through the air. Emergency sirens wailed from every direction as people ran wildly through the streetsâsome screaming, others crying, some desperately calling out names into the smoke-filled night.
âMove! Move back!â
âSomeone call an ambulance!â
âThere are people still inside!â
The air still smelled like burning wires. Panic surged through him like a tidal wave and Caleb pushed forward immediately, shoving through the crowd without hesitation.
âLet me through!â
People stumbled aside as he forced his way past them, ignoring the angry protests and frightened cries. His eyes scanned every face he passedâevery injured person sitting on the pavement, every figure being helped away from the rubble.
None of them were you.
âHave you seenââ Caleb grabbed the shoulder of a passerby, voice rough with urgency. âA girlâabout this tallââ
But the man shook him away frantically and rushed off.
Caleb almost cursed, his pulse roaring in his ears. Then he started shouting.
âHey!â His voice tore through the noise of the crowd. âY/N! Where are you?!â
His gaze swept across the rubble, searching desperately through the smoke and flashing emergency lights. His breathing grew harsher as dread clawed its way up his spine.
âWhere are you!â Caleb shouted again, louder this time, his voice cracking as he turned towards the collapsed building.
Caleb lunged toward the rubble, ready to jump straight into the shattered remains, but before he could reach it, a pair of strong hands seized him from behind.
âHey! Stop!â a police officer barked, grabbing his arm. âYou canât go in there!â
âLet go of me!â he snarled, thrashing violently as he tried to wrench free. âSomeoneâs in there!â
âItâs dangerousââ
âMy girlfriend is in there!â he yelled, his voice raw with panic. He struggled against the officerâs grip like a wild animal, desperation making his movements reckless. âLet me go! I need to find her!â
âSir, you need to calm downââ
âIâm not leaving her in there! Sheâsâ!â
âCaleb!â
For one solid second, he thought he was hearing things. But it was your voice, unmistakably yours. Slowlyâalmost afraid to believe itâhe turned around.
And there you were.
Alive. Standing a short distance away behind the police barrier, dust smudged across your clothes, your hair slightly disheveled⊠but otherwise completely unharmed.
For a moment Caleb simply stared at you, his brain struggling to process what his eyes were seeing.
Then he tore free from the officer.
Before you could even react, Caleb crashed into you and pulled you into a soul-crushing embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it knocked the breath from your lungs.
âYouââ he choked out. âYouâre okayââ
Your face pressed against his chest as he held you like he was afraid you might disappear. His whole body was shaking violently, and you could feel how shaken he was in the uneven rhythm of his breathing against your hair, in the way his fingers clenched the back of your jacket like he needed something solid to anchor himself.
For a moment, he didnât say anything at all. He just held you like he was making sure you were real. You slowly lifted your headâand that was when you realized something that made your chest tighten.
This was the first time you had ever seen him like this. He was pale, his usually steady composure completely shattered. His eyes were wide and glassy, breaths coming in uneven pulls. The sight of him like this felt almost unreal.
âIâm fineâ Caleb, Iâm totally fine...â
Your words seemed to snap something inside him.
âYou call this fine?!â His voice came out hoarse, breaking at the edges as his grip tightened again. His hands moved to your shoulders, as if checking you over, his eyes scanning your face, your arms, anywhere he could see. âThere was an explosionâyour phone cut offâI thoughtâ!â
His voice faltered. He couldnât even finish the sentence.
Caleb dragged a shaky breath through his teeth before pulling you back into another fierce embrace, burying his face against your hair.
âDonât do that again,â he whispered, the words rough. âDonât scare me like that⊠ever again.â
For once, the stubborn certainty that usually defined him was gone. All that remained was the quiet, desperate relief of a man who had almost lost everything he couldnât bear to lose.
The walk back home passed in heavy silence. You were fine, mostly. There was only a shallow gash along your calf where debris must have caught you when the blast knocked you over. It stung with every step, but it was nothing serious.
Caleb, however, refused to let you walk home limping like that, and crouched in front of you.
âGet on.â
âItâs just a scratchââ
âGet on.â
There was no room for argument in his voice. And so you ended up clinging to his back while he carried you the rest of the way home, just like when you were kids.
Even then, he hardly spoke. The man who usually had something sharp or teasing to say about everything remained unnervingly quiet, his grip under your knees stayed firm the whole walk.
. . .
Caleb fussed and hovered around you like he usually did. He had insisted on cleaning the cut himself, carefully rinsing the blood away earlier before guiding you into the bath.
And now... the two of you sat together in the bathtub.
Warm water filled the tub with soft steam, the faint scent of soap drifting through the air. Caleb sat behind you, his chest pressed against your back. The water sloshed gently around your bodies whenever either of you shifted.
His arms rested loosely around you in the water, but every few moments he leaned forward, burying his face near your shoulder or the crook of your neck as he drew in a slow breath.
âHaahâŠâ
It was almost as if he had aged years in the span of a single evening. The tension in his shoulders hadnât left, and the quiet around him felt heavy.
âWhy do you want to leave this house?â he finally asked, his voice was low, roughened by exhaustion. âYou were wandering around the city for hours and didnât want to go home... tell me what I did so wrong so I can fix it.â
You stiffened slightly.
Caleb rested his chin near your shoulder as he waited, his breath brushing faintly against your skin. You contemplated of making up some sort of an excuse, but finally resigned and told him the truth.
ââŠI heard you.â
âHeard what?â
âYou and Gideon. You said you didnât even consider settling down with me.â
The words sounded quieter when spoken aloud than they had when they first carved into your chest earlier that evening.
âWhatâŠ?â
You turned slightly, enough to catch the stunned look on his face. âBack at the house,â you pointed. âYou said that.â
Caleb stared at you like you had just said something completely absurd. He almost squeaked, incredulous, âThatâs what you thought I meant?â
âI heard it clearlyââ
âThatâs not what I meant at all.â He ran a frustrated hand through his damp hair, water dripping down his arm. âYou didnât even stay to hear the rest, did you?â
Caleb let out a short breath, something between ultimate exasperation and relief finally dawning across his expression. His gaze only darkened as he watched your confusion.
âUnbelievable⊠youâre damn unbelievable.â
Before you could say anything else, he suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.
âCalebâ Mmph!â
But, your words were cut off when his lips crashed into yours.
The kiss was fierce and desperate, nothing like the teasing brushes you were used to from him. Splash! The sudden movement sent water sloshing violently against the sides of the bathtub, spilling over the rim as he dragged you closer.
His hands moved instinctively, gripping your waist, sliding up your back as though he needed to feel every inch of you and in no time at all, heat flooded the space between you.
For someone who had been so quiet all night, the intensity of it was almost overwhelming. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing still uneven.
âTonight,â Caleb murmured heatedly, amethyst eyes grounding you like the gravity itself, âyouâre sleeping with me.â
. . .
Your towel barely covered you when Caleb carried you out of the bathroom in a princess carry and brought you to his bedroom.
âCaleb, waitââ
That traitorous towel slipped loose almost immediately as he placed you on his bed. His hands came up to cradle your face as his mouth claimed yoursâ the kiss deep and heated, all his restrain gone.
The tension from the entire night seemed to pour out of him through that kiss. And when you parted, lust had taken over him thoroughly, your heart thundering in your chest with the way he gazed at you.
âIâve had enough of waiting tonight, pipsqueak.â
You barely had time to breathe before he was guiding you to lay on the sheets. Caleb sank to his knees before you, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His hands slid along your thighs, parting them as he leaned forward, devouring you down there.
Your fingers instinctively tangled into his hair.
âCalebâ!â you moaned, startled by everything that was happening. You arched your back, feeling how he licked your folds so deliciously that you almost yelped.
Just when you were about to reach your high, your lover stopped and you unwittingly let out a whine.
When Caleb looked up again, his expression was softer nowâbut the intensity hadnât faded. Drawing in a slow breath like he had earlier in the bath, he grounded himself in your presence.
âI thought I lost you tonight,â he said quietly. His brows creased into a frown, before something dark and dangerous glinted in his eyes. For a moment, you thought it was overâ
You thought wrong. He followed it with two of his fingers, and you let out a shriek as he slid them in and out of you mercilessly.
Unbeknownst to you, he was on a mission to punish you tonight.
His rough, calloused hand closed around your waist, the grip firm enough to steal the breath from your lungs. In no time at all, you were reduced into a mess of cries and cum before him.
However, what followed afterwards was far gentler than what you had imagined. Somewhere along the way, his overwhelming feelings of cherishing you won out of all else.
He kissed you everywhere he could reach, like a man trying to reassure himself you were truly there. Your shoulders, your arms, the dip of your waistâeach kiss lingering longer than the last, warm and reverent.
And when he entered you, stretching you with his thick girth, a low breath left his lips, holding onto you as if you were the only thing capable to anchor him in this world.
âMine,â he growled against your ear. It was his sole thought throughout the night as he thrusted in and out of you with a restless urgency, like he needed to proveâto you, to himselfâthat you were truly here with him.
You woke before dawn, and caught Caleb still wide awake.
Propped against the headboard, he sat beside you with one arm draped loosely over your back, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles on your skin, his gaze fixed on your face as though he had been watching you for a long time.
âCalebâŠ?â Your voice came out groggy with sleep. âYou havenât slept?â
His thumb brushed slowly across your arm, absentmindedly tracing the same path again and again. ââŠI canât.â
His voice was quiet. You pushed yourself up a little, squinting at him through sleepy eyes. Up close, you could see the shadows beneath his eyes, the tension still lingering in his expression.
Everything that had happened had shaken him more than he let on. The explosion. The broken call. The moment he thought he might never find you. And the ideaâhowever briefâthat you had been planning to leave him.
Caleb let out a slow breath when he noticed the way you were looking at him. âDonât look at me like that, Iâm fine.â
ââŠYouâve been watching me this whole time?â
âMaybe.â
âThatâs creepy.â
Your gege snorted softly. Then, without warning, he flicked your forehead.
âOw!â You immediately clutched the spot, glaring up at him. âWhat was that for?!â
âThat,â he said flatly, âis for being stupid.â
You gaped at him. âStupidâ?â
âYes. Stupid.â Caleb leaned back slightly, folding his arms as he looked down at you with mild irritation. âRunning off because you thought I didnât want to marry you. Honestly.â
âWell you made it sound likeââ
âOf course I want to marry you, you goober. I just wasnât going to propose you with some random ring bought off a street vendor.â
You blinked in surprise. The words came out so matter-of-factly that you froze. Caleb glanced down at you again, his expression still frosty, but he ruffled your hair with tenderness regardless.
âYou deserve more than that.â His tone was casual, but there was a quiet certainty behind it. âIf Iâm putting a ring on your finger, itâs going to be something worth wearing.â
Your heart skipped a beat. Caleb finally sank back onto the pillow beside you so he could nudge his forehead against yours.
âSo yeah,â he murmured, a finger came to trace your lips. The depth of his violet eyes held yours so completely that for a moment you were stunned. âIâll find you a ring so beautiful you wonât be able to look away from it.â
For a moment, the room fell quiet again. You reached up almost absentmindedly, your fingers fiddling with the front of his shirt. For once, neither of you rushed to fill the silence.
Caleb watched you for a moment, something gentle settling in his expression as he smiled. Then his hand came up to cover yours and laced your fingers together, holding them between you as he studied your face.
âTo have and to hold,â Caleb said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, âfor richer or poorerâŠâ
His voice was softer than you had ever heard it.
âIn good times and bad...â
Your throat tightened slightly. His gaze never leaving yours.
Caleb leaned closer, pecking you lightly in the lips.
âYes,â he finished, the words steady and certain. âI want to do all of it with you. So... will you marry me?â
For a moment you could only stare at him. The words seemed to hang in the quiet room, mingling with the pale light of dawn and the steady warmth of his hand holding yours. This was everything you had hoped, but somehow it still went against all your wildest expectations.
Caleb watched you carefully, as though bracing himself for your answer, though the certainty in his eyes never truly wavered.
A warmth spread through your chest, steady and bright, until it made your eyes sting slightly. Slowly, you squeezed his hand back.
âYes,â you said softly. âYes!â
For the first time since the night began, the tension finally left his shoulders. His breath escaped in a quiet laugh of relief as he pulled you into the warmest embrace.
âGood, because I wasnât planning to let you say no anyway.â
Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten. Whatever storms might come, whatever misunderstandings or fears lay aheadâboth of you would face them together.
TW: minor character death, trust issues, abandonment issues, body dysphoria, suicidal thoughts, depression, self-doubt, self-hatred, past child abuse, past abuse, past domestic abuse, past trauma, past violence, angst, light fluff
Summary:
The love of his life died in a tragic accidentâŠ
She has been through hell at the hands of someone she thought loved herâŠ
It takes them coming together at the most inopportune time to heal the wounds others left behind.
Note: PLEASE pay attention to the trigger warnings if you choose to read this fic.
Two words. Two simple words. Words that donât even register at first as I stood in the hospital corridor, staring at the doctor, blinking slowly like that would change what he had just told me.
I didnât ask him how. I didnât ask him where. I didnât even ask if she suffered.
Because I already knew.
Xavier had told me the whole story, and I had hoped⊠hoped with everything in me that he was lying. That they hadnât been attacked by a Wanderer while out on patrol. That the Wanderer hadnât landed on top of them during one stupid slip up. That it hadnât crushed her almost beyond recognition.
Xavier was still alive with a broken leg and some bumps and bruises.
But she was⊠gone.
And that was all that mattered.
I didnât answer the doctor. I didnât even bother to look at him or my childhood friend, Doctor Zayne, standing directly behind him.
I simply walked away.
Someone⊠probably Zayne, the doctor or the nurse who had been in the room with her, called out⊠probably wanting me to fill out paperwork or ask me questions as her emergency contact, but I didnât stop.
I kept walking.
Out of the hospital. Out of the parking lot. All the way home.
Itâs not until Iâm standing in the foyer of the house we had picked out together three years ago that I realized I left my car at the hospital. Realized that somewhere along the way it had started raining, Iâm completely soaked, and my clothes are sticking uncomfortably to my skin and dripping all over the floor.
I stared at the white tiles beneath my feet, watching a puddle start to form on the meticulously polished floor without really seeing it.
All I can think about is how mad she would be if she was here to see it.
Not about the water, but the possibility of me getting sick from being out in the rain.
She would fuss at me to go take a shower and change my clothes while trying to reach my hair with a towel even though Iâm over a foot taller than her.
After following her orders and taking a hot shower, she would make me sit down on the couch, bring me a cup of chamomile tea and force me to wrap up in a blanket all while insisting that I call into work tomorrow to get some rest.
A low rumble of thunder in the distance pulled me out of my head and I realized I had left the door open.
Cool air from outside suddenly blew through the foyer, and the scent of rain hit me.
The rainâŠ
Memories start to flood my mind⊠of her laughing as she tried to avoid getting soaked⊠of us dancing in the middle of our driveway in the rain, carefree and happy⊠of her clinging to me, safe in my arms during a severe thunderstorm after I told her I loved her for the first time.
With a shuddering sigh, I closed the door behind me, shutting out the relentless downfall and the memories that try to haunt me.
After that, my body moved on autopilot⊠I slip off my sopping wet shoes, place my keys, wallet and phone in the decorative bowl she has on the table beside the front door and shrug off my coat, leaving it laying on the floor without caring that the expensive material will likely wrinkle.
The house feels empty.
Cold. Quiet⊠all the warmth has been sucked right out of it.
Itâs a sharp contrast to the bright laughter that had filled the space just this morning.
I took a few steps into the living room, a shiver running through me as the cool air hits my damp clothes. The lamp on the end table is the only source of light in the otherwise dark room⊠the one she insisted on leaving on for me every night, so I didnât run into any furniture when I came home late from work.
There are small reminders of her presence everywhere⊠a mug from this morning left on the coffee table, a half-read book sitting face down on the arm of the couch, her favorite sweater thrown over the back of an armchairâŠ
Trinkets scattered on the shelves, the half dozen throw pillows she insisted we needed to make our house feel homey, fuzzy blankets draped over the back of the couchâŠ
A row of pictures on the mantel⊠all captured moments of the two of us over the yearsâŠ
Sitting by the lake, her head resting on my shoulder as we watched the sun setâŠ
Sitting on the couch, her straddling my lap with our foreheads pressed together, grinning at each other like a couple of loonsâŠ
At a music festival, goofy looks on our faces and her fingers behind my head giving me rabbit earsâŠ
At a restaurant⊠at a party for Xavier⊠outside a movie theater⊠us⊠us⊠us⊠usâŠ
And the one⊠from a month ago⊠on the day I asked her to marry me.
Unconsciously, I moved closer and stared at the picture⊠at her smiling face, at the happiness that was once mine.
My eyes trace along the lines of her face, following the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, the shape of her lipsâŠ
A shudder makes its way through my body as my breath comes out in a long, shaky exhale.
I lift a hand, running my fingers over the cool surface of the frame holding the picture of the two of us on the day I proposed and the memory floods my mind with ruthless efficiency.
The sound of her laughter as we walked through her favorite park. The way she buried her face in my chest and breathed me in when I pulled her into a hug and whispered, âWill you marry me?â in her ear.
Her face had lit up, her eyes wide with awe and her cheeks tinged pink. She had shouted âYes!â then launched herself at me, causing both of us to stumble and fall together in a tangle of limbs and giggles.
We had rolled around in the grass, laughing as she cried and told me how much she loved me⊠an older couple had witnessed my proposal and taken a photo of that happy moment and sent it to us⊠which she had printed and framed the next day.
Reaching up, I took the frame off the mantel and sank to my knees on the floor, my legs finally giving out under me as it finally hit me.
She wasnât coming backâŠ
I would never hear her voice telling me how much she loved meâŠ
I would never hold her again while watching stupid movies and throwing popcorn at one anotherâŠ
I would never smell her perfume lingering on my uniform from the dozen times she hugged me before finally allowing me to leave for workâŠ
I would never taste her lips as she kissed me until she was giggling so hard she started snorting because her cherry lip gloss was all over my faceâŠ
I would never see her sleepy, happy expression when we woke up cuddled together like a pair of content housecatsâŠ
With a strangled sob, I pressed my fingers against her face⊠trying to feel her warmth one more time. A sharp pain shot through my chest when all I felt was cold glass and the tears I had been holding back started to fall.
âCaleb⊠come back⊠I still need youâŠâ
The sound of her voice echoed in my mind with words she would use to get me back in her arms for one last hug⊠one last kiss, and for a brief moment, it felt like she is right there⊠standing behind me⊠arms wrapped around my shoulders and chin resting on top my headâŠ
My body trembled as I clenched the frame tighter in my hands, as I tried to fight the overwhelming emotions that threatened to drown me⊠grief, anger, guilt, regret.
The memories of her smile, her laugh and her sweet scent were tormenting me⊠mocking me⊠letting me know I could never have those things again.
And just like that a wave of anger washed over me.
Anger towards myself, for not being there to protect her⊠anger towards Fate, for being so cruel⊠anger at Xavier for surviving⊠and even anger towards my surroundings.
Towards the stupid mug with a grinning cat on the sideâŠ
Towards the romance book she had read a dozen times sitting on the arm of the couch she had picked out simply because she loved the colorâŠ
Towards the hand knitted sweater she had bought at a market made of the âsoftest material she had ever feltâ draped over the chair we had made love in just last nightâŠ
And towards the damned antique clock on the wall, ticking away in a steady rhythm that felt almost like a mockery of life itself marching on its steady course while she was gone.
That most of all made me want to smash everything to rubble, to destroy the reminders that time would keep passing, everyone would go on with their lives while she lay in a grave eventually to be forgotten because of one⊠stupid⊠mistake.
I wanted to let go, let gravity take its toll and destroy every single reminder in this godforsaken room, in this house, that told the story that she had been alive less than six hours ago⊠safe in my armsâŠ
⊠but now, she was gone, and she was never coming back.
I don't know how long I knelt there, staring blankly at the picture in my trembling hands, but eventually, the cold seeping through my clothes and the dampness of my pants finally made their presence known through the numbness that had taken over me.
A violent shiver wracked my body, snapping me out of my dazed stupor, and without realizing it my grip loosened, the frame dropping to the hardwood floor at my knees causing the glass to crack right over our faces.
Staring down at the distorted image of us; me with my arms wrapped around her waist as she lay on top of me in the grass and her with her high cheekbones, huge grin and bright blue eyes sent another jolt of pain through me.
With another sob, I slumped against the fireplace, my breathing coming out in ragged gasps as my body finally gave out and I collapsed to the floorâŠ
Come back, I still need youâŠ
Chapter 1
Want to read more fanfics about the LaDs boys? Check out my list here.
