The second your nails scratch at it he's shivering and moaning into your ear. His hips don't falter in their pace, no, they drive into you with extra force. You attempt to say his name, a rough jumble of sounds tumbling from your lips as he makes you see stars.
He's not doing much better, fists curled tightly as he rests a majority of his weight on his forearms. There is not a single inch of your skin that isn't touching his. Not a single place your hands haven't grabbed on his body. His back is littered in red scratches among his scattered freckles. "Gonna cum inside of ya pretty pussy, okay? Is that okay, princess? You'll let me do that, right?"
He's a mess, breath hot as he nuzzles his face into your neck. The lewd slap of skin on skin is deafening, your cunt squelching every time he bottoms out inside of you. "Yes! Please, Caleb!" it's slurred, drool threatening to slip past your parted lips as your nails dig into his skin and drag from his middle up to his shoulders. You feel him shutter at that, cock throbbing between your velvety walls.
Goosebumps erupt across his skin, teeth nipping at your pulse in order to keep himself from going insane. "So good to me, this pussy is so good to me, so welcoming. You're such a good girl, my perfect girl. All mine." His praise has your eyes rolling back, squirming under him as the pleasure becomes too much.
The force in which your nails dig into his back is hard enough to draw blood, earning a low cry of your name as he shoots another load inside of you. It caught him by surprise, the tension snapping so fast he could stop the tears slipping down his cheeks as your cunt clamped down to keep him and everything he had to offer inside.
@wetforsylus and I are sharing a brain cell both posting Caleb content tonight... that being said, go read Sena's cam boy Caleb extra for more Caleb smut ehehehe
Pussy Drunk!Sylus who hasn't even entered you yet and is already flushed and slack-jawed.
Pussy Drunk!Sylus who drags the leaky tip of his cock through your glistening folds slow and hard.
Pussy Drunk!Sylus who can't stop panting as he grinds the whole length of his aching cock between the folds of your hot, wet cunt.
Pussy Drunk!Sylus who is utterly dazed, watching his precum leak out of his angry red tip, smearing over your clit with every movement of his hips. Unable to pull his gaze away from the sight.
Pussy Drunk!Sylus who doesn't hear your begging...
"Sylus please... oh my fuck, Sylus please..." You squirm again his sheets, back sticking to them almost uncomfortably with how much heat your body is producing. Sylus, towering above you, makes no signs of acknowledgment to your words.
Your fingers twist in the sheets, dragging your lidded gaze away from his gorgeous face to look down at what is entrancing him so deeply. The inhale you make is sharp, zeroing in on the way the fat head of his cock disappears and reappears between your lips.
It's raunchy, obscenely lewd. You find a new wave of heat passing over your skin, face burning hot. "Sylus, m'gonna cum." The sight along with the sensation of his velvety soft skin sliding over your clit again and again has the coil in your abdomen tightening.
"Me too..." it's weak, a raspy croak of his voice. Thick with lust and need, making you whimper in response. Your entire cunt fluttering and twitching as he grinds his heavy cock with a more purpose. “Cum with me…?”
The look in his eyes when you finally meet his devastating, eye glowing bright and pupils dilated. He’s so far gone, it’s adorable. It makes your abdomen tense, nearly pushed over the edge just from the sight of your big-bad husband all mushy and drunk over you.
Being Sylus’ partner naturally came with some risks.
Risks that really meant nothing at all to you considering your dangerous lifestyle as a hunter. You were quick on your feet, skilled with your weapons, and dabbled in a bit of illegal activities such as a car chase shoot out with said lover.
There were truly no risks scary enough to keep you from loving Sylus as you did. He – despite the nature of his lifestyle and reputation – was your safe space. It didn’t matter to you what situations that could bring forth, if you faced it with him, it was simple. And, I mean, he was the leader of Onychinus.
Nobody with a functioning brain and common sense dared to cross him. Only the morons with rocks in their skulls attempted to kill him.
Those that did were snuffed out before any damage could be done, Sylus was always ten steps ahead. Which very well could be the reason they are targeting you this time instead.
“Fuck… fuck…” Your hands shook as your gun clattered to the pavement. Linkon at night had always been relatively safe, but you got into the habit of keeping a weapon on you at all times. Sylus’ advice really, the gun now lying on the ground was a gift from him.
The tremor in your knees had you balancing on the cement wall of the alleyway, a thick metallic scent filling the narrow space. And, unfortunately for you, it wasn’t entirely due to the man that was now dead on the ground some odd-six feet from where you stood. No, the nauseating scent of blood was emanating from you as well.
Your shirt was growing wetter by the second, your hand scrambling to locate the wound and apply as much pressure as your jelly limbs would provide. The man had caught you off guard, one arm around your neck and the other slicing you with what you imagined was the knife laying inches from his cold hand.
The pain had been excruciating, deep and searing as he had gotten the knife stuck before yanking it back out.
You fumbled for your phone, head starting to swim with blood loss and the wearing off adrenaline. Stars spotted your vision, your mouth felt awfully dry. If you could keep yourself conscious enough to message Sylus, it would be a miracle at this rate.
“I… this can’t be how I fucking die…” Your fingers slip, slick with blood as you miss his contact a few times. The relief that floods your body when your phone begins to ring is enough to actually bring you to your knees this time. Bottom hitting the cement ungracefully as your phone tumbles to the ground beside you.
Had he hit anything vital? Punctured your lung? You were bleeding badly, but you couldn’t imagine something like this taking you out so fast. “Sweetie?” it felt like his voice echoed from where your phone lay untouched, bouncing off the building walls and back at you.
“Mm, hey Sy… kinda got into a situation.” it felt like you were chewing on sand to get the words out, you had to wonder if it sounded that way too. “Where are you?” It takes a second for you to recall, eyelids growing heavy. Rather than one of his nicknames, you’re slightly startled when he calls out to you by your actual name.
You gasp slightly, not realizing how little air you were dragging into your lungs but flinching as it irritates the wound further. “Sy, m’sorry but I’m bleeding… real bad… s’hard to think…”
He says something but the ringing in your ears drowns it out. So you muster up enough strength to keep talking while you can. “...killed the guy, Sy. Shot him right in the head… never killed another person before… was shakin’ so bad…” your head thumps against the building you’re slumped against. “Sy, I… I think m’gonna die.”
You flinch again as you huff out a humorless laugh, vision blurring into nothing but fuzzy shapes. “You are not going to die.” His words were tight, strained from stress. You were too out of it at this point to hear him, nevermind respond. Maybe that was for the best, since the panic that laced every syllable would have truly traumatized you more than anything else that had happened to you thus far.
“M’sorry, Sy.” Nearly a whisper, one that shattered his heart into a thousand pieces. You were scared, you had been gravely injured.
And he hadn’t been there to protect you.
And yet you were using the last bit of your strength to apologize to him? “Don’t you dare apologize. I’ll be there soon, baby. Mephsito just has to locate you and I’ll be there.” Again, you didn’t respond, which only sent him further into his frenzy. “You better still be breathing.” Tense, as if the word physically pained him to say.
“Don’t you dare die on me.”
The metallic flapping of artificial wings could be heard, enough to pull you right from the brink of oblivion to meet the beady gaze of red eyes. “Mm..” You couldn’t get anything out, your tongue felt like it had been weighed down with sand.
“Save your strength.” You groan as you flinch, the wound searing hot despite how cold you were beginning to feel.
“Sy…” the breeze of his evol dispersing was a welcomed comfort, so was the familiar sweetness of his cologne over the nauseating metallic tang of your draining blood.
“I said save your strength.” You couldn't lift your head to properly look at him, couldn't so much as open your eyes enough to see his handsome face one last time. Tears began to fall, slow leaking globs down your worryingly pale face.
“M’right here. You’re going to be alright.”
You were being lifted, cradled against his strong, warm frame. With your last bit of consciousness, you mumbled a barely audible ‘I love you’ before going limp in his embrace.
You hadn’t been alright, not for the first few hours at least.
It had been a sweet lie to whisper to you, to foolishly promise in hopes of comforting you. Sylus would never forget the feeling of you dying in his arms, albeit brief. He had, of course, been prepared. Summoning his own private team of doctors, having them ready and waiting by the time he had stepped foot in Onychinus’ base again.
Something he had invested in shortly after getting you back, a team of doctors he knew he could trust with your life. While he had a much different perspective going into that investment, he now realized badly things could have gone had he not had it in the first place.
You were dead for six minutes. Your heart stopped functioning, lungs ceased all movement. Sylus stood back, covered in your blood, utterly dazed as he watched them fight to get your heart beating again. The sickening crack of your ribs as they performed CPR, the frantic but level conversation shooting back and forth as they started on your wound and hooked you up to an IV for blood transfusions.
All the while, they were still manually pumping your heart.
His entire world, the other half of his soul, lying dead right in front of him. Not a single thing he himself could do to reverse the damage that had been inflicted.
He couldn’t even get the satisfaction of putting the motherfucker that did this to you through hell. But, oh, he’d figure out who he was, he’d figure out who sent him after you, he’d rip them limb from limb.
“Don’t you dare leave me.”
Silent over the chaos, not a prayer or a plea. No, it was a command. As if he harbored the same power you held back then, the same power that lies dormant in you right now. If you could bind his soul to yours, then dammit he was going to return the favor. You were not leaving him, especially somewhere he couldn’t follow.
It felt as if time stood still when the doctors stepped back from you. Sylus wasn’t sure how long it had been, but with weary eyes, one of the doctors turned to him. A middle aged woman, a gentle smile on her lips. “Mr. Sylus. She’s stable.”
The grief and fear clinging to his heart lightened in that split second. “She lost a lot of blood, her heart did stop.” The woman’s smile faded a bit. “The CPR did fracture two of her ribs, we set those, stitched her wound, and she is now on a diluted saline and blood drip.”
Her throat clears, eyes trailing back to where her partner was cleaning the blood from your cheek. “She’ll be okay, but with your permission I’d like to induce a coma.”
“A coma?” Sylus’ voice sounded hollow, panic prickling at his chest again. “Yes, with the wound itself and the broken ribs, she is going to be in a lot of pain. Given her heart condition, I think it would be beneficial to keep her unconscious so the stress doesn’t affect her heart. It’ll give her time to heal.”
It made sense, but it killed him all the same. “How long?”
“The wound was deep, it just missed vital organs. We stitched it with internal dissolvable staples and then glued the surface shut. Overall, I'd say a week, two max. Her ribs will take six to twelve weeks to fully heal, but the wound on her side is my main concern. She’ll be over the worst of it by the time we wake her.”
One to two weeks without your voice, your laughter, your pretty eyes peering into his. But it would save you the agony…
“Induce the coma, but promise me one thing.” She nods, hands folded in front of her. “Promise me she’ll wake up from it.” She had almost a motherly gaze as she took him in, perhaps not seeing the infamous leader of Onychinus. But, rather, a twenty eight year old man who nearly lost the love of his life forever.
“Mr. Sylus, once we remove the drugs from her IV that induce the coma, it will be up to her if and when she wants to wake up.”
The silence stretches for a moment, Sylus can’t look away from your peaceful form. “She’ll come back to you, Mr. Sylus. She wouldn't have fought this hard if she planned on going.”
This has been sitting in my drafts forever. Idk why I get so embarrassed over attempting to write angst but here this is I guess? Idk, maybe if y’all like it I’ll add it to the list to finish it up. But I still gotta work on that little blurb where they fought lol
Hihi! I’ve been wondering how the Lads men would be as idols ! (Like a k-pop,/j-pop group etc) thank you!
BE YOUR IDOL │ The LADS Men As Idols
featuring ( in order ): idol au! xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb
summary: what the lads men are like as idols, their positions in the group, and how rumors begin that he’s dating someone named y/n....
a/n: hihi anonnie! i've been in a kpop brainrot thx to @ilovemitsuya so i had to do this (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) btw this is all just for fun! (: anyways enjoy reading my luvs (∩˃o˂∩)♡
any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!
⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Xavier:
position: lead singer, sub vocalist, composer and songwriter for the group
Xavier’s one of the longest trainee with Sylus
the type to be really good at games whenever they do variety shows
would eat his birthday cakes or snacks no matter what his management says about his diet
the type to fall asleep anywhere anytime even while standing up due to their busy schedules and giving them little time to rest
Zayne would literally have to hold his hand just in case whenever they’re at the airport.
would also wear a mask and a cap at the airport because he hates flashing lights from paparazzi's and fans
food ambassador for Poki
live streams his games and sometimes plays with his fans
innocent looking in the group but completely different on the stage
Rumors would start speculating when he got caught out with a girl named y/n getting food and the fans start to assume his love songs are about her
Zayne:
position: the leader, producer, sub vocalist
became a trainee at a young age for his ambitions and dreams
the one that would talk first during interviews or answer or help the members answer most questions
lightly hold fans hand and listen intently during fan meetings
the caring member that looks after everyone before and after the show. Fanning them with a handheld fan and wiping away any of their sweat. Looks after members whenever they’re going through a rough patch ( hate comments, etc ). asking if each member is okay and making sure the stage is good before they perform.
always looks out for their fans, handing out water bottles to the crowd, always messaging for their fans to get home safe after events or concerts
the least active on social media but whenever he is, he’s always telling his fans to make sure to wear something warm or to stay hydrated
would eat any candy that fans would give him and would surprisingly share some chocolates with xavier
Fans couldn’t help but speculate when they spot matching mugs or a pair of toothbrushes in the background of his selfies or posts
Rafayel:
position: youngest of the group, lead vocalist, the visual of the group ( he’s literally the face of the game when you first download )
trends a lot with his ending fairies ( final closeup at the end of music performance )
pouts or walks away during send off whenever a fan says he’s not their bias
the type to drop his birthday cake(s) on birthday live streams but he’s just very clumsy in general
multiple brand ambassadors and attends a lot of fashion events
the type to accidentally leak his new comebacks
Rumors start to speculate he’s dating someone named y/n after they’re seen wearing matching jewelry or when videos of them would be REALLY close to each other during fashion events
Sylus:
position: the main rapper, producer
the one who trained the longest because he was always out of sync with the trainees
most biased, a lot of fans started stanning the group because of him. also very popular because of his deep voice
intense eye contact, lots of hand holding with fans in fan meetings and doesn’t let go until you have to move to the next member
the one who somehow always has a wardrobe malfunction
Sylus and Rafayel would be the ones that have the MOST packed luggage’s. Videos of their staff pushing multiple luggage’s through the airport would start trending
late night lives with him and the fans. low, husky, and tired voice from his schedule and he’s secretly waiting for you to appear in his comments. a smirk like curve appears when he sees your name appear in the live
Rumors would start trending when someone named y/n was spotted posting from the same location, leading fans to speculate that they were on a date together
Caleb:
position: the all rounder
LOTS of thirst edits especially with his workout videos
the one who would also spoil comebacks with rafayel
one of the most active members on social media, talking with fans along with rafayel
cooking and workout lives
takes cute pictures with the fans or records trendy videos during send offs
gets really close with fans during barricade at concerts
outfits on stage would include, tank tops to flex his biceps, crop tops to flex his abs, or sometimes no shirt during concerts or translucent shirts
Rumors would start to spread when his childhood friend y/n would been seen together at the gym often
ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune
ʚɞ beta read and helped me write this by @ilovemitsuya MWAH ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )
ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:
ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! The Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2
ʚɞ Others places you can find me:
Wattpad
Twitter ( but idk how to use it or interact with people )
Content: caleb cries during sex, creampie, L-bombs, overstim, slight dacryphilia
Read on AO3 here
The first time Caleb gets to touch you, gets to taste you, he’s so overwhelmed he starts tearing up.
You’d be concerned if it weren’t for the way he gasps and whines, “So good, you feel so good.” It’s clear he’s not crying from distress, but from how many emotions he’s feeling right now. His mind is a jumbled mess of thoughts about how perfect this feels. How your bodies fit together like you were always meant to be wrapped around him like this.
He’s wanted this for so long. And now he can barely believe he’s pushing himself so deep inside you—until he can feel the tip of his cock insistently press against your cervix. He wants to stay like this forever. He wants to keep you pressed to his skin so tightly it feels like you’ve melded into one being.
It’s not just about the sex for him. It’s about the intimacy of this moment and how it seals your bond with the kind of finality he’s been craving for years. Now, you can’t deny you’re his in every way that matters. You can’t run from him anymore.
So yes, it’s inevitable that Caleb sheds a few tears during sex. He’s not fully sobbing or hiccuping. But there are definitive tear tracks running down his cutely scrunched up face. And you can feel the hot droplets of his tears land on your flushed skin.
He tries so hard not to ruin the sexiness of the moment—he wants to make sure this is good for you. But he can’t stop himself from chanting through his tears, “I love you, pip-squeak. Love you so much…” And when he comes inside you, that’s when he weeps a bit harder. It’s both a release of all the pent up feelings he’s harbored for so long and a sign of how happy he is right now.
You mistakenly think that will be the last of him getting so emotional during sex. Of course, he has his moments of being much more put together later. But sometimes he begs you to keep fucking him past the feeling of oversensitivity, to the point of choked sobs and whimpers escaping his lips. Other times, he feels that same flood of emotions he felt when he fucked you for the first time.
Then there are also times he cries because he convinces himself he isn’t worthy of you. He thinks he doesn’t deserve your sweetness and your unconditional love. Not when he’s guilty of lying to you. And certainly not when he keeps careful watch over you when you aren’t looking. It doesn’t matter that he tells himself it’s for your protection. He knows it’s wrong.
But the only confession or apology you’ll ever get from him is nonverbal. It’s hidden in his stream of tears while he pulls you down on his cock, blubbering your name like it will free him of the guilt gnawing at him.
He’s usually never vulnerable around you. He always seems to keep his shit locked up so tight that you envy him for it. But in these moments when he’s quite literally crying your name, you think he looks beautiful like this. Maybe other people wouldn’t think so. But you’ve always yearned for him to break down those carefully crafted walls of his.
You can’t deny it sends a slight thrill through you. Seeing your Caleb—a man of power and authority as Colonel of the Farspace Fleet—crying softly while he splits you open with his cock. Only you get to see this side of him. And you know he only breaks down like this because you make him feel amazing.
You’re his everything. He can’t help but cry from knowing you’re finally his lover. And you can’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your heart and your pussy every time he cries for you.
Summary: Caleb drinks away his sorrows and realizes he's an idiot. He goes to make amends with his baddie.
Image: credit @aerosarrow (This fic was based on this lovely image. I love our puppy boy)
Author notes: See, I'm kind and didn't make you all wait for too long. :). Actually proofread :P
Part 1
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Caleb was drunk…VERY drunk.
He was normally not the type to drink, let alone drink away his problems. But desperate time called for desperate measures.
After leaving the house and away from the fight that occurred, Caleb walked down the streets of Skyhaven. He could’ve drove, but he didn’t know what his plan was or what state he might return in, so he chose to go on foot. Plus, it was a good way to relieve the bubbling emotions swirling in his chest.
God, how had such a great day spiraled into him being in the metaphorical trenches of his relationship?
He HATED it. He HATED the hurt and anger that showed on your face once he confessed to the crash. He HATED your sense of trust in him fraying. But worst of all, he HATED that you didn’t trust him enough to know what he was doing. At least that was what it felt like.
He ended up finding a bar a few blocks down, where he plopped down on a stool and ordered a shot. This continued until he had ingested seven more shots, even mixing his alcohol between bourbon and tequila over the span of an hour. The man was utterly fucked, laying his head down on the bar with his arms resting on both sides of him like a halo. He lifted his head, looking to his side where his last shot glass remained. His vision was shaky and warped, with the shapes and colors of his surroundings blending together.
Big, bad Colonel Caleb, one of the best pilots of his generation, a man who commanded hundreds of men, someone who defied death to protect the one he loved most, lay in a drunken heap, whimpering to himself that his pipsqueak no longer loved him.
Let's be honest here, when Caleb gets insecure and/or anxious, the man is the personification of a beaten golden retriever.
He was pitying himself, and he knew it. But he didn’t want to admit he was wrong.
He just wanted to protect you, damn it! He never wanted you to see a moment of sadness. To see pain flashing in those precious eyes of yours. But he had, and he was the cause.
...Did you have a point, though?
He moved his hand slightly to trace the rim of the shot glass softly, while thinking about what you said.
In all honesty, Caleb rarely did think about himself. It was just second-nature to him at this point. When he did, it was in correlation to you. The feeling you rose in him, trying to improve his health again so he could return to you, rising to the rank of colonel so he had the power to protect you. It was never simply about him, and he liked it that way. Because without you, he was nothing. His sole purpose was to be there for you. At least in his mind.
But...there were times when he was all alone- sitting with his thoughts- that he let the weight of his life finally settle on him, like a lead blanket.
He was just so…tired.
The man had gone through hell and back multiple times, and he was afraid that if he just stopped for a moment, he would fall apart and not be able to start again.
He feared of setting any of his burdens on you. Of you seeing his flaws. Because once you did, you would realize that he wasn’t invincible, that he was just simply…a man. You were given to him to protect. He had vowed to do so from the moment your little hand held onto his, like he was the only thing keeping you grounded in this world.
He couldn’t be weak for your sake.
That was what he thought…until now.
He thought of your face from only an hour ago. The honesty you were asking of him. And for the first time, it seemed, Caleb considered that maybe you want to see him crumble. You wanted to see the raw, jagged edges that made up his soul. You simply wanted to see him…for him. And that fact shook him to his core.
He rarely even touches that part of himself; he avoids it so he doesn’t have to deal with it. Was he doing the same thing to you? Keeping you at a distance so you didn’t see his failings?
It was at that moment that Caleb realized what a complete fool he had been. He groaned into his arm, cursing himself for the pain he caused you. He was still fucked up, but he needed with every fiber in his being was to be next to you in that moment.
So, with that, your puppy of a man lifted himself from the bar, head spinning from the copious amounts of alcohol he drank and start to search for his wallet.
After a few failed attempts, he grabbed a few bills and threw them on the counter as he drunkenly stumbled to the door to return to you.
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You had a long night.
After Caleb had left, you broke down. You cried on the kitchen floor for what felt like an hour, finally letting loose the torrent of emotion that had gradually been building up with each hidden item Caleb had kept from you since your reunion, or maybe even before. You weren't sure.
But what you did know was that things couldn’t keep going as they had been.
You eventually got off the floor and took a small shower to refresh yourself. You did your skincare and got into some comfy clothes to get the comfort you needed. You had stolen one of Caleb’s favorite hoods that engulfed your frame. It smelled like him...
You miss that idiot, your idiot.
You sigh to yourself as you head for the kitchen to get something to eat and drink. You might be in turmoil, but you weren’t going to stop taking care of yourself due to that. You wanted to feel your feelings in their entirety and work through them, while providing the nourishment your body needed. You wanted to face your problems head-on. It's been one of the big things you've learned over the past few years.
Something you learn from Caleb…
You just wished he would do the same for himself.
Caleb had just finished dinner when the fight broke out, leaving the food untouched. You had placed it in containers for later when you got hungry. Now, grabbing them from the fridge, you open the container to place some on a plate to warm up.
Waiting, you grabbed a glass of water to drink. Just as it was about to touch your lips, you heard a big thump from outside, making you pause.
You hear the jingling of keys and scraping against the lock as someone is desperately trying to and failing to open the door.
Just as you were about to put down your glass and walk over to see what the commotion was, Caleb came stumbling in.
For a second, you just look at him in shock. His appearance is disheveled, with a corner of his shirt slipped out of his pants, shirt wrinkled, and some of his hair sticking up.
Caleb somehow was able to find his way home. Not without the occasional obstacle standing in his way though. Poor baby bonked his head on a stop sign trying to cross the road, since he’s vision was still slightly blurred.
Currently, said man looks up at you through his long lashes. Once he's fully upright, Caleb just stares at you with big, wide eyes. The soft light from the kitchen reflects off his irises, illuminating both the shades of purple and slight bits of tangerine. Your own personal summer sunset is staring back at you.
Wonderstruck is written all over his face, as a dusty pink covers his cheeks. He looks as if he’s seen something divine and about to fall to his knees and pray at your feet.
Your boy looked…..absolute adorable.
It felt as if one of those cartoon heart arrows had just shot through your heart. He really was the cutest. And for a second, it made you forget about the earlier events of the night.
That was until Caleb hiccupped... and giggled.
It hit you then…..your boyfriend was drunk. Completely shit-faced drunk.
It shocked you, not only because it was rare for Caleb to drink, but even rarer for him to get plastered as he was now. You could count on one hand the number of other times you’ve seen your boyfriend like this.
Irritation hit you again tonight, knowing now you’ll have to deal with a drunk Caleb.
Another moment passed until you broke the silence, shaking Caleb out of his one-sided staring contest.
“Caleb, are you drunk right now?” You ask, leaning into the island counter.
Another moment goes by until he replies, “Nooo?” His face flushed even more, now covering his whole face.
You let out a heavy sigh as your brows scrunch together and your face falls into an annoyed pout.
Seeing your ire, your boy audibly lets out a whimper, looking like a kicked puppy.
This was going to be a long night….
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You had gone over to Caleb to assess the damage. The whole time, he was still staring at you, eyes wide and pupils dilated. The adoration shining in them was making it hard to stay mad at him.
You managed to get his jacket off him, but damn, it was like trying to get a leaf off the highest branch of a tree. Having a giant for a boyfriend, especially a drunk one, was not helping make your life easier.
Huffing, you look over your shoulder and say to him,
“Follow me, let’s get you some water.”
You made your way over to the kitchen, while Caleb followed in a daze.
You were just so….so pretty. He couldn’t quite remember why he had come home in a rush or what he was going to say to you. But god, was he grateful he did. Because he had you standing in front of him.
The things this man would let you do to him only if you asked. If he could get on his knees in front of you every day, he would. He was meant to worship -because you were his heaven, his goddess. You made his brain stop working, and he was fine with that.
You were moving around in the kitchen when he finally reached and leaned against the island. You had remembered by now about your forgotten food in the microwave. So you set it to reheat for another few minutes.
You open a cabinet and are reaching for a glass when suddenly you feel an engulfing weight press up against your back, while two arms wrap around your waist, and a head plopping in the dip of your neck.
You hear a loud sniff coming from your neck and then a contented sigh.
You pause for a moment before turning your head to look at the man now clinging to your body like a koala.
“Caleb..”
“Mhmmm”
“You need to let go of me so I can get this glass.”
You feel his hair shake as he rubs his head into your shoulder.
“Noo.” he pouts.
You sign and try again, going on your tip toes, swatting your fingers until you grab the glass you desired, all while Caleb stay put at your side.
You set it down on the counter for now as you rotate in Caleb’s hold. You push your hands gently against his chest, prying him from your body.
He lets out another whine, a pout evident on his face as he looks down at you.
You spin him around and start pushing him towards one of the stool situated next to the island to sit on.
Once seated, he’s looking at you with those damn eyes again, almost making you crumble, but you steel yourself. You have to stay strong, remember!
“Stay!” you say sternly, pointing your finger at him. It was no different from an owner telling their dog off.
Caleb whines once more as you turn around and go towards the glass again. You open the fridge for the water pitcher and pour some into the glass. You then go to another cabinet to grab some painkillers.
You may have fought, but you don’t want him to have a bad hangover.
Returning, you slide the water glass in front of him and hold out your hand.
“Take these, they will help with tomorrow.”
To say the alcohol was hitting him harder presently was an understatement. All Caleb wanted to do was stare at you, hug you, and touch you.
“I don’t wanna.” He slurred.
“Caleb, you need to take these or you’re going to feel like shit in the morning.” You huffed.
“I donna careee, I just want you pipppsquek.” He whined while holding up his hand in front of you, making a grabbing motion.
You huffed once more, marching into his reach. You lift up his chin with one hand, making him look you in the eyes.
“open your mouth, now.”
He looks at you with wide eyes, while obeying your command.
You take the pills in your hand and place them in his mouth and make him close it. You then grab the water beside you and place it to his lips. “Drink”.
He does as you say and gulps all the water in the glass.
After he is done, you place the water back down.
He looks at you for a moment before grabbing you into his embrace. His head was in the crook of your neck again.
“Do you hate me, pipsqueak?” He slurs into your shoulder.
You look down at him, your brow knitting together in annoyance and sighing for what feels like the millionth time tonight.
“No…but you did hurt me.” You reply.
“I’m sorry” He lifts his head, looking at you with pain in his big eyes.
“It’s okay, but now isn’t the time to talk about this. You’re too drunk.” You say, stroking his hair.
But Caleb wanted to! It's the reason he had come home in the first place. He needed to make things right.
“noo, we should. I was being an idiot, and I didn’t wanna admit you were right.”
You look down at him in shock.
You were not expecting that from him.
“I don’t want you to see me as weak.” He whispers, almost as if he’s ashamed.
“A-and if you saw me hurt, how could I protect you? That’s all I’m good for.” his voice wobbles.
You pause, going rigid at his touch.
Fuck…is that what he thought of himself?
“I-I don’t know how to let you take care of me..” He turns his head on your shoulder.
“I’m afraid…afraid you won’t want me anymore if you see me weak.” At this point you felt your shoulder get wet as you saw his eyes tearing up.
You think you felt your heart stop.
You were frozen to your spot as shock rippled through you like the impact of a stone rippling in a pond. You felt pressure building behind your own eyes. Pain squeezed your chest, constricting enough to the point it was making it hard to breathe. The lump in your throat had returned twofold.
You were heartbroken…utterly devastated that this is what he thought.
Both for yourself and the man you cherish like no other.
You raised both your hands to his face, cupping his precious cheeks as you guided him to look at you.
The sight you caught made your breath hitch.
His face was still red, but accompanying it were tearful eyes, and his puffy lips pushed together. Your guys' eyes locked -he looked like a trembling puppy.
“Don’t you dare ever think that,” you choked out.
“I love you no matter what, Caleb. I choose to love you. All sides of you, including the ones that are flawed.” You smiled at him tearfully.
“I want to take care of you because you're precious to me. I want to be there when you need me. I want you to feel comfortable coming to me. Because I’ll never judge you for that.”
“You’re so hard on yourself! You're allowed to be human too, baby. You're allowed to feel your feelings, the good and the bad. But most importantly, for yourself!” You say as one of your thumbs brushes away a stray tear that left Caleb’s eye.
Caleb didn’t know what to say. What to think. Or even really how to breathe then.
Your declaration finally hit him. Something within him broke, shattering into a million pieces. The damn holding all the emotion he had been shoved away came tumbling out now.
First was the shaking.
Then the tears and shaky breaths.
The man you loved so deeply and for so long released a loud sob.
Your baby was sobbing. Sobbing for the hurt he caused you, sobbing for past mistakes. But most of all, he was sobbing for the little boy deep down in him that was still in that lab.
It all finally came out. Every neglect, every silent moment, any time he felt completely alone in this world. He finally let it all out in your arms.
And you just held him through it.
After a few minutes, he calmed down, sobs turning into small sniffs and stray tears.
You pull his face closer to you, kissing them away and all over his face to show him your love.
Pulling away, you look at him. He looks back at you through puffy eyes.
You smile softly, “Well, that was a start”.
He opens his eyes to look at you for a moment. Then a single laugh bubbles up from his chest.
You both stare at each other again until you both burst into laughter. You just couldn't stop.
After all the events of the night, the irony was hitting you. You got what you wanted, you supposed.
After you both settle down, Caleb pulls you closer to him (if that’s even possible).
“I love you”. He whispers against your lips.
“I love you, too idiot.”
You pull him forward into a soft and loving kiss as your lips gladed over each other.
It had been a long night, and you both were tired. But regardless, you both didn’t regret it. Your relationship had a long way to go, but this was a start. A beautiful shared start.
And by all the powers of the deep space tunnel, that was good enough for you.
🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎°🍎
(I hoped you liked it! There were a lot of feelings and emotions I wanted to capture, but it can be hard to put them in writing. I don't know if it was any good, but I loved writing it. I tried. Share your thoughts in the comments!)
Details: 350ish words. This one’s been an itch I’ve wanted to scratch for a long time. I just love soft Caleb… the version of him that exists beneath the uniform. The one who falls apart when he’s home. When he’s with you.
9/10 times Caleb comes home and lifts you into his arms, showers you with kisses, ruffles your hair, does anything to hear the sound of your laugh.
But sometimes… I think sometimes, Caleb comes home and starts crying. Not because something’s wrong… but because it’s all too much and all too little at the same time. His chip makes everything hit harder in what remains of “him”. All the feelings, the memories, even the taboo ones—they crash over him the second he sees you again…. It wrecks him. It’s like a reality check on steroids.
Because you chose him. Because… you’re still choosing him. You’re standing in the doorway, barefoot and soft-eyed, greeting him like nothing about him has ever been hard to love.
You haven’t left. And somehow… that still feels impossible.
He tries to hold it in, but the moment your hands touch him, when your mouth finds his, the tears just start to fall. Silent. Unstoppable. You have to stop. Cup his face. Make him look at you. And he’s smiling, even as it breaks him. Blinking. Leaning into you starving for your touch. And when you whisper “hey… hey you… you’re okay,” … He just… laughs… soft but so, so broken.
“I—I know,” he whispers. “It’s just… you.” You touch his face—thumb brushing the tear tracks he doesn’t bother to hide.
“Fuck,” he says, voice cracked in half. “I missed you so much it hurts.”
You peck his lips, his forehead. “I’ve missed you too, Caleb…” And something in him falters. His breath catches, and then he folds into you. All the weight he carries… all the armor he wears out there in the world, it slips. The uniform, the missions, the sharp edges. None of it survives the way you say his name. The way you look at him like he’s not a weapon. Like he’s a man. Just a man, and yours.
His arms wrap around you. Eyes closed. Barely breathing. “T—there’s no air without you,” he chokes.
Caleb doesn’t cry for just anything.
“Every time I come back to you, it’s like learning how to breathe again…”
But he does cry for you.
“…My tears know it before I do—I’m home.”
His only refuge. His only softness. His only home.
And all he can do is fall apart quietly into your arms—
In which Caleb accidentally caused his necklace to break
Established relationship | light angst (not really) |
Caleb hadn’t meant to get his necklace broken :( he just wears it so much that it was bound to break eventually.
It was one morning on a random Saturday, you had already left to run some errands. Caleb went to go kiss the necklace as he does every morning he can’t kiss you—he just wears it to bed but you told him it could wear out the necklace, and he really should have listened to you because as he goes to lift the chain up- snap. His eyes widen and he goes pale, fear, his breathing becomes panicked.
He knows it’s ’just a necklace’ but to him, it is not ‘just a necklace’.
Caleb decides to grab the pendant and puts it in the drawer of his nightstand, he would rather die than accidentally lose it.
Once you get back home and enter your shared room, Caleb seems off, you immediately notice the absence of his necklace.
“Where’s your necklace Caleb?”
You ask with confusion and a hint of concern, Caleb always wears the necklace you gave him- did you do something wrong? You start to think to yourself.
“The chain broke- I don’t know what to do..”
Caleb says in a panicked voice, had he been panicked all morning?
Caleb suddenly reaches into the drawer and pulls out the pendant that reads: “when U come back”
“Caleb, you know I have spare chain and some pliers right? I make my own jewellery all the time.”
Caleb freezes- right, of course you can fix the necklace. This isn’t some problem that can’t be solved, why was he so scared? Maybe the thought of losing something that represented your relationship was too much for him to handle.
——————————————-
“Aannndd we are done!”
You hand Caleb the finished necklace, it’s good as new, hell- the chain is actually better quality than the last one, it’s not a faded silver, it doesn’t look as worn out.
Summary: Caleb allowed himself to lose himself inside you in every aspect, and now he must pay the price. He can either take what you give him or end everything once and for all. The decision wouldn't be so complex if he wasn't in too deep.
He's already completely and utterly in love with you, and he can't keep hiding it. He risks losing everything you share, but that risk might be worth it.
Warnings: MDNI! Smut, Friends with Benefits, Angst
Caleb tries not to make it obvious. Not to you, not to anyone. But it’s hard to hide the lovesick look in his eyes whenever he looks at you. Your friends are starting to notice something is up with him. Caleb has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.
You warned him to keep it under wraps, you don’t want rumors in the friend group to spread. The way he looks at you whenever you’re in public is a dead giveaway. Caleb is in love with you and he can’t hide it anymore– It’s obvious to everyone, except you. You just think that he looks at you with lust. He has that look of pure unadulterated need whenever he stares at you.
It used to be like that in the beginning, but something has changed and you haven’t noticed. Truthfully, Caleb hasn’t noticed himself. He just stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep because all he can think about is you. His heart is about to beat out of his chest, his body getting warm as that fuzzy feeling consumes him. Lately all he thinks about is you.
Tonight is one of those nights where he tosses and turns, the only thought in his mind being a future with you. He doesn't even know where these foolish thoughts came from. Your friendship makes the thoughts worse, that he knows.
He hates his mind. He should be sleeping when all he can think about is building a future with you. Marriage, kids, white picket fence in the suburbs– The whole nine yards. They’re dreams that he’s never had before, but suddenly it’s all he wants. Whenever he shuts his eyes he envisions this future that he knows he’ll never have, and that’s why he can’t sleep.
But eventually he gets drowsy as he thinks of a possible life with you. His lips move involuntarily, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he begins to dream about an unforeseeable future. He begins to succumb to his slumber until his eyes snap wide awake as his phone rings. Groggily, he picks his phone up to see what it is.
Great, he’s been added to a dumb groupchat. He’s back at square one because of a dumbass. He ends up turning off his phone, turning on his side to try and sleep again.
The moment he shuts his eyes, the same thoughts flash through his mind. That same smile appears on his face, and he goes to sleep thinking of one thing: a future with you.
“Caleb– It’s too much!” You moan as his nails dig into your skin while he thrusts in and out of you. Your back arches, eyes rolling back of your head as Caleb hits every right spot. Your face buries into the mattress, drowning out the oh so loud moans that escape your lips.
Caleb is in a trance, watching your ass move with his every thrust. He throws his head back, moaning your name as you begin to meet his thrusts halfway. It takes everything in him to not lose control immediately. He slaps your ass before saying, “You can handle it, pretty girl.”
You moan out his name, feeling as pleasure consumes you. With every movement you’re one step closer to your release, and you don’t know how much longer you’ll last considering you’re on the edge. Caleb feels it as you squeeze around him, and as your voice gets whinier and louder.
“You’re doing so good.” He praises, watching as your hands grip the bed sheets. You’re making a mess all over him, moaning his name over and over again. It’s the sweetest sound that has ever grazed his ears.
“Fuck– Fuck!” You moan, sounds that are luckily muffled by the mattress. Caleb can just picture the look on your face as it contorts with pleasure. The thought alone works him up, but he has to contain himself.
“I’m gonna–” You can’t even finish your sentence before your orgasm washes over you, completely fogging your train of thought. He’s praising you, words that fall on deaf ears. Your mind is too hazy for them to process.
It doesn’t take too much for him to slowly lose control, thrusts getting unregulated. Caleb doesn’t want it to end so soon, especially when he knows you have an early night. But there’s not much he can do but get lost in the moment. Your name escapes his lips, nails digging into your skin hard enough that he can nearly draw blood.
He pulls out, coating your ass with his cum as a groan leaves his lips. Caleb plops down on the bed, panting to catch his breath. He looks at you, watching as you gather the force to get up from the bed and go to the bathroom to clean yourself off.
“I can grab you a towel.” He offers, and you hum, finally giving up and laying down on the bed. Caleb puts on his briefs before making his way to your bathroom in search of a towel. He knows exactly which towel to grab, he’s been in this situation too many times.
“Are you going on Friday?” You ask when he’s back in the room. Caleb furrows his brows as he tosses you the towel.
“Going where?” He questions as he watches you wipe his cum off your body. He can’t tear his eyes off your body as you get off the bed and begin to walk to the bathroom.
“I thought I saw you in the group chat. You know… The little get-together our old classmates are planning.” You share, making his eyebrows raise. That explains the message that woke him up last night.
“Why? You wanna go together?” He fights back a smirk as he lays down on your bed, making himself comfortable. It’s only a matter of time before you kick him out– But maybe tonight is that night where you ask him to stay a little longer and cuddle.
“Just want to warn you to get your shit together.” You tell him, and he chuckles. Alas, it’s not a cuddling night. You’ll give him an earful then kick him out.
“When do I not have my shit together?” He questions, and he hears you scoff. He should’ve known better. He should’ve just hummed in agreement and told you that he’ll be on his best behavior.
“Last time our friends saw us together, they asked us if we were an item. I don’t want any of that.” You walk back to the bedroom, wearing a robe. He sees that annoyed look on your face, letting him know that it’s only a matter of time before you kick him out.
“You got it, honey.”
“None of that.” You warn him, and he chuckles as he nods in response. You look around for his clothes, a task that always takes time. It’s so easy to take them off, yet always so hard to find.
“You got it.” He corrects himself just as you throw his shirt in his direction. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
“I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” You inform him, walking back to the bathroom to take a quick shower.
“Do you wanna go together on Friday?” He asks as he begins to get dressed. You’re silent for a second, and he knows that it takes you a moment to come to a decision. It’s always no, he doesn’t know why he even bothers asking.
“It’ll look weird.” Is all he needs to hear. He doesn’t know why you’re always so worried about what your friends might think. Is it really that embarrassing to be seen with him?
“Right…” He answers. He bites his tongue, holding back the hurtful question. You must have your reasons, and he won’t dare question them.
He gets dressed and leaves shortly after without muttering another word. He also has an early day tomorrow but it didn’t seem as important till now. He guesses he has all the wrong priorities.
Laughter echoes from the table. It overflows and seeps through the restaurant, lightening the mood of the place. Yet, Caleb can’t find anything amusing. Not the embarrassing old stories and certainly not the stupid jokes. Caleb enjoys the reunion but he’d much rather be alone with you right now. Especially when an old classmate clings on his arm and attempts to flirt with him.
“What’s up with you?” She asks, poking his cheek. She tries to get a smile out of him, a task that’s harder than what she bargained for. The alcohol reeks in her breath, making Caleb scrunch up his nose.
“I’m a little tired.” He tries to play it off, carefully moving to the side to put some distance between them. She barely notices, too drunk to care. It’s a good thing that she doesn’t notice how Caleb’s eyes linger on you as you speak to an old friend. His eyes soften, and he bites down his lip as he watches you.
You laugh ever so loudly at a joke that he’s sure wasn’t funny– He didn’t get to hear it, he just has a feeling. You’re batting your eyelashes, playfully smiling before you whisper something. Caleb feels his blood boil, clenching his jaw as he forces himself to look away. Damned jealousy.
He doesn’t understand why you chose to sit so far away, you’re still good friends, you can sit together without looking suspicious. If anything, the way you’re blatantly flirting with someone else is suspicious. Now he’s left to deal with some other drunk, whom he has no interest in socializing with.
“You’ve been quiet.” She gets his attention again, moving closer to him. She doesn’t intend on leaving any space between them.
“I need to use the bathroom.” Caleb stands up, setting space once and for all. Though he’s gone unnoticed all evening, once he stands up, all eyes are on him. He doesn’t want the conversation to stop, and he certainly doesn’t mean to draw attention to himself. Though he claimed he needed to use the bathroom, he exits the restaurant to take a breath of fresh air.
His hands rest in his pockets and he deeply inhales. It reeks of smoke and food in the cold night air, yet it’s still better than whatever the hell is going on inside. He can’t take it anymore. Everyone is just so cheery while they talk of nostalgic moments, and he can’t bring himself to care. He’s bored. He can only look at you as your face lights up in amusement and he beats himself up because he didn’t say it. He wants to be the only reason you laugh.
A couple of months ago, Caleb wouldn’t have cared. He would’ve been glad his friend is having fun, but now he hates it. Now he’s thinking sappy things, wondering why he isn’t the only person that makes you happy– Because you sure as hell are the only person that brings a smile to his face. He’s let those happy thoughts overwhelm him. He’s been thinking of an inconceivable future.
“It’s chilly out here, is everything okay?” You startle him. He looks down at you, watching as you cross your arms, attempting to keep yourself warm. If he were your boyfriend, he would’ve warned you to bring a jacket. He also knows you’re stubborn and wouldn’t have listened, so it would’ve been a useless attempt.
And even if he isn’t your boyfriend, he takes off his jacket and throws it over your shoulders. His cold hand goes under your chin, tilting your head up to make you look at him. And with that, he gives you a subtle smile. “I’m fine.”
“Your nose is red.” You point out, your hands cupping his face. Don’t let anyone catch on but you do this. Everyone knows you followed after him, anyone can come outside to check on you and catch you.
“Won’t you call me Rudolph?” He jokes, making you roll your eyes. You end up giggling, letting go of his face.
“You’re such a goober.” You respond. You stand in silence for a second before you look at him with those beautiful eyes. He feels his heart melt with them, and suddenly the task of going back inside seems impossible.
“Cara was all over me, and I needed a minute.” He reveals, and you purse your lips together. It’s clear that you’re slightly bothered by this, and he feels an ego boost from it. “But it’s for the best, because now I have you all to myself.”
“Don’t go getting any ideas, we have to go back inside before anyone gets suspicious.” You answer, finger trailing down his chest. He clicks his tongue as his face inches closer.
“What if they catch us? It’s nothing bad.” He responds, his hand going to your wrist and stopping your hand from moving anywhere else. He lowers his voice, “And even if it was, stepping out of line is fun.”
“Caleb,” You take a deep breath, attempting to find the right words. You’ve noticed how odd he’s been acting lately, and it’s raised some concerns. You can’t bring yourself to outright ask it though because you know the answer. The answer will shatter everything you’ve got going on.
“What is it?” He asks when you take too long to speak. Caleb can wait an eternity for an answer, but instead of speaking, you end up shaking your head. He sighs. “I think it’s time we–”
“Guys–” Caleb is cut off. You both look back at the entrance, watching as Cara stumbles out of the place. Before she can even say anything, she pukes her guts out.
“Cara, are you okay?” You quickly disregard Caleb, turning your attention to your friend. She’s out of her right mind. “How much did you have to drink?”
“Caleb didn’t stop me.” She slurs and you look back at the man. Caleb furrows his brows, confused why that’s his task. She chose to sit next to him, he didn’t know that allowing her near him came with an extra set of responsibilities.
“Silly Caleb.” You chuckle. You grab her arm, throwing it over your shoulder. “Let’s take you back insi– No!”
“Are you okay?” Caleb questions as he watches your perfectly fine shoes get ruined by someone who didn’t know when to stop drinking.
“It seems that it’s time for me to go home too.” You try to laugh it off even when it’s clear that you’re livid. Luckily, you’re not mad at him, that puts his mind at ease. “I need to take care of her first though.”
“I’ll help. Let me go back inside and grab your stuff.” Caleb says, and you hum in response. Though you’re upset, you rub her back in an attempt to help her out.
“Next time you puke, aim at Caleb, okay?” You tell her, and she mindlessly nods. The words aren’t processing in her mind, she has no idea what you just told her. You sigh, knowing that you shouldn’t have followed after Caleb.
Cara’s apartment is just around the corner, in five minutes you’re inside. It’s not your first time inside the place. You know exactly where everything is, allowing the process of taking care of her to go smoothly. You help her into some pajamas before you tuck her into bed, forcing her to go to sleep– You wouldn’t call it forcing when she’s knocked out within a minute.
While she sleeps, you give yourself the liberty of using her shower and stealing some of her pajamas. It’s the least she can do after ruining your shoes. And to top it off, you’re sleeping on her couch tonight which doesn’t even begin to repay the debt she’s put herself in.
“What are you still doing here? We’re good. You can go.” You question, surprised to still find Caleb in the apartment. He sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone since he has nothing better to do.
“Are you spending the night? I was waiting for you.” He replies, looking up from his phone to find you dressed comfortably in some pajamas. At least that answers his question.
“Yeah, you can go now. Thank you for your help.” You respond, walking over to him and kissing the top of his head. A yawn leaves your lips as you sit down on the couch, “It’s late.”
“It’s been a long night.” He comments.
“Really? I considered it to be short.” You respond, and Caleb raises his brows. Of course you did, you were too busy flirting and showing off; not that he’d say that out loud.
“That’s because you were having fun.” He says, and you hum. You were having fun but apparently he wasn’t.
“Why didn’t you leave earlier if you weren’t enjoying yourself?” You ask, and Caleb stares at you with uncertainty in his eye. He ends up looking away, and shrugging.
“Well…” He wonders if he should admit it. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Jealousy is a boyfriend privilege, and that’s the last thing he is. “I just didn’t want to be the first one out.”
“You’re lying to me.” Your eyes narrow as your face inches closer. You cup his face, forcing him to remain still as you try to read his expression.
“Why would I lie? You’re silly.” He tries to play it off, but it doesn’t slip by you. You purse your lips together as you squeeze his cheeks.
“You don’t want to talk? Fine.” You puff out your cheeks, dramatically turning away and crossing your arms. You hope that it’s enough to get Caleb to speak, but after a minute, he doesn’t give in and you’re forced to step up your game.
You snatch the phone from his hands, and attempt to keep it out of his reach– It’s dumb considering Caleb’s large and strong arm can pry anything from your hand, but it’s still worth a try.
“Really?” He’s mocking. You confidently nod, holding your arm up.
“You can’t leave without your phone.” You claim, and before you can even finish your sentence, his phone is back in his hand. You whine and quickly yell, “Give it back!”
“My phone? Why should I give it to you?” He holds his arm up, and unlike your futile attempt, it works. You’re trying to reach over for it, and when it seems impossible, you stand up.
“Caleb! Give it!” You whine as you realize you have no leverage.
“If you want it, you have to work for it.” He smirks, and you puff out a breath. Then the perfect idea dawns on you. You sit down next to him, crossing your arms.
“Look who’s a crybaby–” He teases, only for all his defenses to go down when your soft lips land on his cheek. He freezes, and you take that opportunity to grab his phone again. This time you won’t let it get away, you shove it between the couch cushion and sit on it.
“Now will you tell me?” You ask with a smug smile on your lips, knowing that you’ve won. You’re too engrossed by your victory that you fail to notice the change in Caleb’s expression. You don’t notice his red ears, the dilated pupils, nor the way he bites his lip.
“Caleb?” You call out to him when he fails to answer, only for your words to be met by his warm lips. His fingers intertwine with yours as he kisses you ever so gently over and over again. He’s never been like this before. It’s fuzzy and warm, filling your stomach with butterflies.
Your heart races, the same way his own does. His nose brushes against yours, and he pulls away. He looks into your eyes, attempting to find that sparkle– The same sparkle that glimmers in his eyes whenever he looks at you. A sparkle that he never expected to develop, but the more time he spent with you, the harder it was to hide.
He swallows the lump in his throat as you let go of his hand. He tries to think of the right words to say, but his mind goes blank. Before he can recollect his thoughts, your hands go to the back of his neck and you pull him into a kiss; unlike his own, it’s more passionate and with a clear motive. He’s taken back, but he gives in like he always does.
“We have to be quiet.” You pull away, looking at him with lust filled eyes. Your hand goes to his belt, and he feels his breath get caught up in his chest. He can’t confess how he feels, but he can show you.
“I should tell you that.” He mutters as his lips go down to your neck. He sucks on that sweet spot that makes your knees weak. A moan nearly escapes your lips at the feeling, almost proving his point. He caresses your thigh, hand getting awfully risky. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel his hand go into your pants.
“Let’s not waste time.” You tell him, feeling as his fingers tease your clothed pussy. Caleb hums in agreement, taking his hand out to pull down the pajama pants. Caleb places your legs on the couch before he pushes your panties to the side. He licks his lips at the sight in front of him. Dare he say that tonight is ending better than what he expected.
Caleb spits before he leans down, warm tongue running through your folds. Mouth attaches to your clit while a gasp leaves your lips. You know that by the end of this, your hand will be over your mouth because you simply can’t contain yourself. Your friend might be drunk, but she’s not deaf. Too much commotion will wake her up.
Your breathing gets heavy as you look at the back of his head, feeling that twinge of pleasure in your stomach. The added risk heightens the feeling, making it easy for you to get overwhelmed. It doesn’t help that Caleb knows your body. Over time he’s gotten to know your body better than you.
His tongue wanders down, getting close to your entrance. Your breath is stolen from you as you feel him stick his tongue inside of you. You begin to tense up as his thumb begins to play with your clit, and suddenly every thought that you’ve had tonight begins to fade away. You only know that you need this to happen more often, no matter the consequence.
“Caleb–” His name leaves as a whisper, trying your best to control yourself. It’s hard to contain yourself while he makes you feel so good. He takes his tongue out, laying it flat on your clit before he plays with it. You bite down your tongue, trying to not make a single noise as pleasure gets the best of you.
You shut your eyes, your fingers entangled in his hair as you try to push his face closer. Your body moves involuntarily, and Caleb certainly can’t complain. Your thighs squish his face as you lose control.
“Oh, Caleb– Fuck!” Your voice is louder than it should be, but neither of you care. You’ve gotten to a point of no restraint and Caleb won’t dare stop you. Your voice is like music to his ears, he’d never stop that sweet melody.
You nearly curse him out when he lifts his head, leaving you high and dry just as you were reaching your climax. Caleb has a hint of a devilish smirk on his face, and before you can scold him, his lips land on yours. There’s clear desperation in his every kiss, and you can’t bring yourself to be upset that he pried the orgasm from your grasp. He’s needy, he can’t hold off any longer.
His lips kiss the curve of your jaw before they fall on your ear, “You mean so much to me.”
The words fall on deaf ears. They don’t process in your mind, and it might be the best.
Caleb doesn’t get completely undressed, he does just enough to get the deed done. He pushes your knees to your chest before he runs the tip of his cock through your folds. Tonight is not like the many nights that he’s spent at your apartment. You run the risk of getting caught so he shouldn’t drag it out– That’s why he’ll tease you and savor every moment.
He teases your entrance, threatening to put it in but holding off. He’ll hold off until he hears that sweet whine that usually leaves your lips whenever you don’t get something fast enough. You’ll press him to hurry up, and he’ll comply. He just has to hear the magic words first.
“Caleb, hurry up.” You demand, and he lets out a chuckle before slowly pushing himself inside of you. He looks at your face as he watches it contort with pleasure as he fills you up. He wants that face tattooed in his mind, to be the only thought he remembers whenever he needs some release.
Your lips fall apart, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he bottoms out. You shouldn’t be doing this, you really shouldn’t. This isn’t your home, Cara could walk in at any second. She could discover your little secret. But somehow the risk factor turns you on.
Caleb thrusts in and out slowly, setting a slow yet steady pace. His eyes remain on your own, trying to read whatever is on your mind. Does this hold as much meaning to you as it does to him? Is there a glimmer in your eyes or is it the same as in the beginning?
He stops trying to read your mind, getting lost in how beautiful your eyes look. You maintain that eye contact he’s set, a smile coming to your face which he quickly wipes away by kissing your lips. Your hands go to the back of his head, pulling him closer to you. He’s thinking that you need him as much as he needs you.
“Caleb, it’s so–”
“I know, baby, I know.” He cuts you off, feeling as your pussy feels around him. One of your hands goes down to play with your clit, and you begin to lose yourself in the feeling. Caleb hits every right spot. He rubs his cheek against your own as his thrusts slowly pick up speed. “You feel so good.”
“What are you guys doing?” You’re snapped out of your trance by a shocked voice. Caleb stops moving and you stop breathing. Her eyes are wide open, mouth agape while she looks at the couch.
“Cara, you’re awake?” Caleb furrows his brows, looking back at her while he’s balls deep inside you. She slowly nods her head, and Caleb bites down his lip.
“Why are you–”
“You must still be drunk, why don’t you go back to sleep?” Caleb cuts her off before she can finish her thought. He doesn’t worry too much about her remembering, considering she had a lot to drink but just in case, he has to step up his game.
“Are you guys having sex?” She asks, not daring to step any closer. She might be out of her right mind, but even she knows better.
“No, that’s silly. We’re wrestling.” Caleb chuckles, grabbing the couch cushion and hiding the part that connects you both. She’s drowsy, so she ends up nodding. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? What woke you up?”
“I heard some weird noises.” She answers, and Caleb holds back on laughing. You’re mouthing something to him but he doesn’t bother deciphering whatever you’re trying to say. She drags her feet and goes back to her bedroom, and when she shuts the door, Caleb begins to move again.
“Really? We just got caught and you don’t bother stopping?” You ask him as you meet him for a kiss. It’s a little too late for him to stop, he’s in too deep.
“She’ll be okay.” He answers as he begins to play with your clit. Your toes curl, feeling as your orgasm builds up and overpowers you. You’re muttering his name over and over again as you reach your climax, leaving as fast as it came.
“Good job, baby. Good job.” He praises as you finish all over him. You’re so good to him.
His lips land on yours, drowning out any sound that comes from them. Caleb is slowly losing the control that he thought he once had. He’s picking up speed until he finally makes a mess out of you. He groans as he releases his cum inside of you, giving more slow and gentle thrusts before he pulls out.
You’re both silent for five minutes, catching your breaths and processing everything that just happened. You stand up and rush to the bathroom before you make a mess of the furniture. And while you’re gone, Caleb takes a moment to think about what to do. Cara won’t remember but this can’t go on like this.
He comes to a realization and it hurts to think about it. Especially now.
Caleb knows. From the very beginning you mentioned how this was temporary, and he comes to the realization that this might as well be the end. Either you want the same thing as him, or you don’t. Either way is fine but he can’t keep doing this because his feelings are on the line. He already allowed himself to get in too deep.
He sighs and cleans up after himself while he waits for you.
“What do I tell her if she wakes up and remembers?” You ask him, walking out of the bathroom all new.
“I think we should end this.” He blurts out, and you freeze. It’s out of the blue.
“I’m sorry?”
“I can’t do this.” He admits, stepping closer to you until he’s mere inches away. He cups your face, staring at your face for a moment. Your eyes water, as he looks at them. But he just can’t find that spark. No, you don’t feel the same way he does. He confesses, “I’m utterly in love with you, and I can’t keep hiding it.”
“Caleb, you don’t mean that–” You begin, and you try to think of what to say, but you can’t. His behavior adds up, and you can’t do anything to refute it. “We’re just having fun, Caleb. You don’t love me.”
“I do, and that’s why I can’t keep doing this.” He answers, searching for that spark in your eyes but there is none. You don’t love him, he’s sure.
“Why don’t we talk about this?” You insist and he shakes his head. He refuses.
“You told me this was temporary, and things have run its course.” He reminds you, and he wants to beat himself up for not willing to stick out a little longer. But it hurts. He’ll keep feeling that intense jealousy that he felt earlier, with no claim. He’ll just look like a lunatic for it.
“What is this about? Cara? You know she won’t–”
“If you really think this is about her then you’ve been too blind to see it.” He interrupts you, and you feel a lump in your throat. “I told you, if you choose not to believe it then that’s on you.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense.” You claim when in reality it does. You’ve noticed, you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You’re not ready for this to be over just yet. You want to hold on a little longer, just until you’re ready to move on. You just didn’t expect him to end things yet.
“I’ll always be here for you.” He reassures you, trying to give you a comforting smile. He fails miserably. “And if you want to call, I’m always here. We can always joke around, mess around, argue, make small talk. Whatever your little heart desires. Just not sex.”
You’re not sure how to answer, and frankly, you don’t want to. Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, revealing just how great your emotional attachment has become. Caleb looks away, not allowing himself to be weak. His daydreams crumble right before him. There is no future with you.
In the end, neither of you say anything else, allowing him to leave without an issue.
ft. love and deepspace men x fem!reader
cw. different povs, angst/no comfort, major character death, mentions of murder.
a/n. these are based on myths and lore but i tried my best to add my own different swing to it 𐔌՞꜆. ̫.꜀՞𐦯
(i posted this at 9pm bc apparently it was going to be posted at 10:40?? that’s too late 🫠)
comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡
xavier
the nightmare has him reliving one of his greatest regrets. lights bright yet so dim in the palace. the throne room stretches endlessly around him, its walls weighing on him. the air in philos hums low and alive, like a pulse that shouldn’t belong to the planet but to beneath it— the core that continues to feed on the very people that walk on it. along with it is you standing in the middle of the throne, eyes that look down at him filled with emotions that he would love to wipe away with his thumb— but he can’t. and he can hear something shatter inside of you.
“xavier,” you say, soft, just like the light falling against the curve of your crown. “you’ll come back to me, won’t you?”
he couldn’t give you a proper answer back then, and even if he was given the chance, he can’t. and this is a dream that he already knows the ending to.
he leaves to save philos. to save you. he steps into the spaceship, feeling every cell in his body burning with the promise that he’ll save you. he’ll change fate. and yet… he was wrong.
although the coordinates were perfect, he landed on earth 214 years earlier than expected. he goes through the painful years of his team losing their minds and having to end up killing them. his chest tightens.
he will continue to endure it. watching his team’s blood bathe his sword in blood. for you– he can.
philos is cruel, but fate is cruel still. your face is fading, and yet the memory of you dying in his arms is clearer than any sky he saw you smile under.
can he still promise himself that the next it will be different? will he fail and be too late once more?
because the nightmare stays the same, no matter what happens in the dream, it always ends the same and he has yet to save you.
and if he does, will he be there by your side?
zayne
it’s cold again. he watches the snow fall, each snowflake too real to be a dream. the hospital corridors stretch endlessly, the lights flickering. he knows this place, and he doesn’t. it isn’t akso anymore. the walls scratched as if a wanderer owned these halls, still, the silence is too heavy.
he walks. his shoes leave no sound.
there’s a man standing ahead of him, standing in the middle of the hall, his back turned. zayne doesn’t need to see his face to know who it is. the man’s demeanour is different, but his movements— the way he exhales along with the way his finger twitch before a decision— are his own.
before he could speak, the man turns, and it’s like looking into a cracked mirror. his eyes are the same, but colder. the kind that seen mercy as something painful. he looks down and zayne’s eyes follow.
you.
your breath is shallow. your eyes are glossy. the infection’s already spreading, veins webbing black across your skin. zayne instantly knows what comes next.
“stop,” he gasps, but dawnbreaker kneels beside you anyways. his hand tremble slightly when he cups your face. his lips move, whispering words zayne can’t hear. and then, slowly, the shards form— black ice blooming from his fingertips, beautiful and terrible, going down your neck and curling around your throat like a necklace.
“no,” zayne breathes.
a weak sound leaves dawnbreaker’s chest. maybe a broken sob, or a prayer, maybe even both. His free hand presses the shard through your heart. and zayne feels the pain doubling the moment a tear falls from your cheek.
he sees the ice slowly cover your whole body and a feeling of deja vu washes over him, but before he could comprehend why, your body completely shatters.
rafayel
endless pillars of stone and coral stand around him. the ocean is still in reverence for the ritual. rafayel stands before the altar, the song of the deep thrums through his bones— demanding and eternal. for the god shall take, and its follower shall give.
and before him— you.
his chosen. his beloved.
although this life haunts him he can’t deny the beauty you’ve graced him. the same girl who fell into his sea, desperate and terrified, clinging to life.
“you don’t have to do this.” he says, though it’s his voice that cracks.
“i am willing to give my life to you, rafayel.”
he feels her breaking him again.
if he could laugh he would, but the smile you gave him made the scene change before the dream could end.
you were in front of him caressing his face with such love with a dagger ledged inside your heart.
when he wakes, gasping, hands slicked with sweat, he presses them to his chest. heart still beating, yet frantically. but truth be told, he gave it away long ago. because even now— even after centuries, lifetimes, prophecies that part them— he would choose you. He’d tear out his own heart out just to see you live one breath longer.
he runes his hands through his hair scoffing.
lemurians live for love, but their god must sacrifice their beloved?
how wicked.
sylus
he looks exactly as you remember— white hair and eyes still red, but something’s wrong. he’s too still, too bright against the dying light. the horizon behind him burns gold from the sunset.
you try to run to him, but your feet won’t move. the flowers twist around your ankles, rooting you in place. the ground hums. the air trembles.
you don’t remember the war, or the curse, or the deal that tied you to him. you only remember the way he looked at you in those last moments— like he was memorizing you, like he was already mourning you.
his lips move, forming your name again and again, but the sound never reaches you. it’s like the dream itself refuses to let him speak.
you try to take a step forward. the world ripples. suddenly he’s closer — too close. the scent of blood mixes with the flowers. his hands find your face, and they’re warm, too warm, like the sun breaking through water.
“sylus…” your voice cracks.
his thumb brushes your cheek, leaving a smear of red.
you look down. his chest is bleeding — a wound that glows faintly beneath the skin. the same one you gave him.
you stagger back. “no, no—”
but he smiles. it’s soft. familiar. heartbreakingly kind.
something hits you,it’s too fast— the memory hits like lightning, and suddenly you’re on your knees, the claymore in your hands again. it’s heavy, slick with something warm. it’s as if you can feel his pulse through the metal.
“stop,” you choke out. “please, stop—”
but it’s not him anymore. the body before you dissolves into ash and petals, his voice whispering through the wind.
the best way to punish someone is to let them live forever.
you try to cover your ears, but it doesn’t help. the words sink into your skin, into your blood, into the space between your heartbeats.
the petals rise, swirling, turning the field into a storm of white and red. you scream, reaching out, but your hands grasp nothing. you wake up in the dark, gasping.
your hand flies to your chest. your heart is racing, aching like someone’s carved it open and sewn it shut again. you don’t remember the dream— not really. only fragments. flowers. blood. and a blur of his name.
caleb
the low, pulsing hum of machines with cold light fills the room, reflecting against glass, turning your skin dull. caleb can see you, but not reach you. that’s how it always is.
he knows what comes next.
the faint whir of the electrodes. the sharp hiss of the tubes. the air smells of metal, antiseptic, and fear. you’re small on the table— smaller than he remembers— your wrists bound, eyes darting toward the window where he’s forced to stand.
“it’s all right,” he whispers, though you can’t hear him. “i’m right here.”
but your eyes always dims before you could let out a smile.
the light swells— searing white— and then you arch once, sharply, before going still. your mouth opens, but the scream never leaves your throat.
and then it’s over.
just a single, suffocating silence.
he used to pound at the glass until his fists bled. he used to scream your name until his throat was raw. but after the hundredth time, the thousandth, his voice just… stopped. now, he only watches.
because he knows you’ll wake again.
somewhere else, sometime later. new body. same eyes. but empty.
they tell him you’re alive. that you’ve been restored. but when he looks at you, he knows better.
you blinked at him— curious, cautious. “who are you?”
the first time, he laughed. because surely you were joking. surely you remembered. surely you couldn’t have forgotten him.
but then you asked again. softer. “do i know you?”
and that’s when something inside him broke.
so he starts over. every time. he tells you stories— how they grew up together, how you used to drag him into trouble, how you’d attempt to braid flowers into his short hair and call him your knight. your protector. he says it gently, smiling, as if trying to coax memory from somewhere inside your bones.
sometimes you would smile back. and sometimes your eyes would sparkle. and for a little while, he can almost pretend you remembered. but then the next experiment begins. and the light takes you again. but that doesn’t matter he promises to always be your protector.
though the cycle continues. you die. you wake. you forget. but there’s a kind of cruelty in keeping your promises too long.
in his nightmare, he repeatedly watch as you die over and over— and every time, when your eyes flutter open again, they’re just a little colder. until one day, you don't look at him at all. you look through him. and it ruins him.
because you don't remember that he tried. that he begged. that he would’ve killed for you when he got you out of that hellhole once he grew stronger. that he would sold pieces of himself just to bring you back.
to you, he’s just another face in the crowd. another set of hands that couldn’t save you.
the probability of you living again and again, and choosing a life where he isn’t there will continue to haunt him.
when he wakes, his chest feels carved out. his right arm— the one they rebuilt— trembles as if remembering the restraint of the glass that separated the two of you.
Synopsis: When Caleb’s memories falter mid-conversation, you’re the only anchor keeping him tethered to himself. A fragile, desperate fight to hold onto love while everything else fades.
A/N: This poured out of me during a migraine haze. Intense Caleb heartbreak, written in one sitting. I’m leaving it raw because it feels right.
Word count: 3115
Warnings: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Vulnerability. Kisses.
___
It happens so quickly you almost miss it. One second Caleb is himself—laughing at his own reckless comment, eyes alive with that spark that’s unmistakably him. The next, something shutters down behind those purple irises. His gaze goes sharp, too still, his voice flattening in a way that makes your stomach twist into knots.
You’ve seen it before. That terrible silence where he isn’t Caleb, not fully. Where the chip sinks its claws into what’s left of his mind and pulls him under.
“Mission requirements state—” The words fall from his lips like stones, clinical and cold. He’s looking through you, not at you, as if you’re just another variable in an equation he needs to solve.
“Caleb.” You whisper his name carefully, like it might shatter in the air between you. Your hand finds his wrist—still warm, still trembling faintly despite the unnatural stillness that’s settled over his features. “Stay with me.”
He blinks slowly, expression blank. When he speaks again, his voice is eerily calm. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
But there is. Oh, there is. Because this isn’t him talking. It‘s the thing wearing his face, using his voice. The chip that’s eating away at everything that makes him human, one memory at a time.
“Look at me,” you plead, your grip tightening on his wrist. You can feel his pulse beneath your fingers, rapid and erratic despite his outward composure. “Really look at me, Caleb.”
For a moment, nothing. His gaze remains fixed somewhere past your shoulder, calculating and empty. Then, just barely, you see it. A flicker. A crack in the facade.
His breath hitches. His shoulders twitch as though he’s fighting something inside, some invisible force trying to drag him down into the depths where the chip lives. His free hand suddenly fists in his shirt, knuckles going white with the strain.
“I…” His voice wavers, the clinical tone fracturing. “I can’t… I can’t remember…”
“Remember what?” You cup his face with your free hand, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Tell me.”
His expression crumbles. The mask falls away entirely, leaving only raw, desperate fear. “Movie nights,” he whispers, the words breaking like glass. “I can’t remember the first movie we ever watched together. I know it’s important, I know I used to know, but it’s just gone.”
The pain in his voice cuts straight through you. Because you know what this means. Another piece of him, lost forever. Another fragment of the person you love dissolved by the thing living in his skull.
“It’s okay,” you say, because what else can you say? “We’ll make new memories.”
But he’s shaking his head, pulling away from your touch. “No, you don’t understand. Every day there’s less of me. Every day I wake up and something else is missing. Maybe one day there won’t be anything left but…” He gestures at himself with disgust. “This thing. This weapon they made me into.”
“You’re still you,” you insist, reaching for him again. “You’re still Caleb.”
“Am I?” He lets out a broken laugh, voice rough. “How much of me can they take before there’s nothing left that’s mine? How much can vanish before I stop being Caleb at all?”
The words hit you like a blade, sharp and merciless. You don’t even think—you reach for him, both hands framing his face, forcing him to see you. “You could forget a thousand things and you’d still be Caleb. You’d still be mine. That chip can’t take you from me.”
Your voice cracks with fury and fear, but you don’t let go. “That chip doesn’t get to define you. It doesn’t get to take you from me. I won’t let it.”
Your palms are steady even though your heart is racing, holding him like you’re reminding both of you he’s still warm, still here, still him.
His voice drops to barely a whisper. “The nightmares are getting worse. They’ve been there for years, but now…” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Now I can’t tell what’s memory and what’s the chip showing me. I see things, terrible things, and I don’t know if they happened or if it’s just another way it’s breaking me down.”
He looks at you with haunted eyes. “Sometimes I wake up screaming and I can’t remember why. Other times I remember too much—every mission, every life I’ve taken, every order I followed without question. The chip doesn’t just take away the good memories, it amplifies the worst ones. Makes them sharper, more real than anything else I have left.”
His hands are trembling now. “What if that’s all I become? Just the nightmares and the missions and nothing else? What if I lose every soft memory I have of you but keep every brutal thing I’ve ever done? What if I become just numb?”
The purple in his eyes seems duller now, like the light behind them is fading. It terrifies you more than anything else—the thought that one day you’ll look at him and see nothing familiar staring back.
“You’re here now,” you say, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat. “Right now, in this moment, you’re here with me.”
He looks at you, really looks, as if he’s forcing himself to stay.
“I try to hold onto you,” he breathes. “When everything else slips away, I hold onto how you make me feel. When you’re here, you push the chip back. But sometimes I’m terrified—the thought that one day I’ll wake and not know why you matter. That I’ll leave you behind like after the explosion. Then it won’t be circumstances taking you from me. It’ll be me, gone from myself. You’d be looking at a stranger. I can’t lose the memory of loving you. I can’t lose the right to call you mine.”
The mention of the explosion rips through you like shrapnel. For a heartbeat, you’re back there—the acrid smoke burning your lungs, the way silence sounded wrong after the blast, too heavy and final. You remember your hands shaking as you searched through twisted metal and debris, calling his name until your throat was raw. The way your chest didn’t just cave in but hollowed out completely, like someone had scooped out everything vital and left you empty. That first night, staring at his necklace, wondering how the world could keep spinning when Caleb wasn’t in it anymore. That hollow, tearing, all-consuming grief. You remember the weight of living in a world where Caleb didn’t exist, and the memory alone is enough to make your throat close up.
Your hand trembles as you reach for him, cupping his cheek like you’re afraid he might dissolve if you let go. “You don’t get to say that,” you breathe, fierce and fragile all at once. “I already thought I lost you once. I can’t—” Your voice breaks, but you force it steady. “I can’t go through that again. And I won’t. Not like this. Not to something that doesn’t even deserve you.”
Caleb inhales sharply. “If I slip… if I’m not myself anymore… don’t let me go.”
You press your forehead to his, letting your breaths mingle until the rhythm steadies. His skin is damp with tears, hot against your palms, and you stroke your thumbs across his cheekbones like you’re memorizing him by touch alone.
“Listen to me,” you whisper, your voice low and shaking with conviction. “You’re here. You’re mine. I don’t care what that chip takes, or what it tries to make you forget. I’ll fight it with you. I’ll remind you every second, every day, until you never doubt who you are. Until you never doubt us.”
He breaks then, body shaking against yours, and you pull him closer—wrapping him so tight your arms ache. You thread your fingers into his hair, hold his face against your neck, feel the ragged shudder of his breathing against your skin. His fists knot in your shirt like he’s clinging to the last solid thing left in the world.
“You won’t lose me,” you promise into his hair, each word fierce enough to burn. “Not again. Not ever. If you forget everything else, I’ll still be here to bring you back.”
You pull him into your arms, and he goes easily—too easily, like he’s been waiting for someone to catch him before he falls apart. His body shakes against yours. You can feel his pulse hammering erratically against your palm where it rests on his neck, too fast and unsteady. His breathing goes shallow and quick, like he can’t quite catch his breath, and there’s a fine tremor running through his entire frame that he can’t control.
“I don‘t want to forget you. You‘re the only thing that keeps me…“ He falters, his voice shaky. “The only thing that matters.“
The admission breaks something inside your chest.
“I’ll remind you,” you promise into his hair, holding him tighter when his breath stutters. “Every day, for as long as it takes. I’ll tell you who you are, who we are, until you never have to doubt it.”
He hiccups a sound that might be a laugh and might be a sob. “I’ll crawl back to you even if it’s the last thing I—” he whispers so quietly you almost miss it. And you know he means it. That’s him. Caleb.
Your hands move without thinking: cradling the back of his head, smoothing down his spine with slow, even strokes, cupping and holding and making yourself immovable under him. Anything to anchor him here. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and rocks against you, hot breath damp on your skin. His fists twist in the fabric of your shirt, clinging like it’s the only solid thing left in his world. When he finally looks up, the reckless light has returned to his eyes, but it sits next to a new, exposed softness—the kind you can’t fix with jokes or plans.
You kiss him then, not to erase the fear but to vow it away: quick, sure, and everything. He tastes like salt from tears mixed with something indefinably him—warmth and copper and that hint of sweetness you remember from lazy morning kisses. There’s a slight tremor in his lips that steadies under yours, like your touch is the only thing that can calm the storm inside him. His tongue is hesitant at first, then desperate, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you.
“I’ll be your memory when yours fails,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple. The words come with the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest, something for him to hold onto when his own feels unsteady.
His breathing eases, but he doesn’t let go. “Don’t give up on me,” he says, his terror tangible, muffled this time, almost broken.
“Never,” you answer, sliding your palms across his back, memorizing the rise and fall of his ribs. You tilt his chin up gently until his eyes meet yours, your thumbs brushing away the wetness at the corners. “I’m right here. I’ll always bring you back.”
The words are still trembling in the air when you surge forward and kiss him. It's not neat, not careful—it's desperate, messy, all teeth and salt and shaking breath. You taste the grief on his lips, the panic still caught in his chest, and you pour everything you are into him anyway, like you could force him to stay human just by loving him hard enough.
He makes a broken sound against your mouth, half-sob, half-laugh, and then he's kissing you back like a drowning man gasping for air. His hand fists in your shirt so tight the fabric strains, the other cupping the back of your neck as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You can feel the tremor in his body, the way he clings like this is the only lifeline he has left.
The kiss deepens, becomes something raw and consuming. His lips part under yours, breath hitching as you map the inside of his mouth with your tongue, tasting desperation and need and something that's purely him. He responds with a hunger that surprises you both, tilting his head to take more, give more, like he's trying to crawl inside your soul and make a home there.
You don't stop. You drag him closer, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him gasp. The sound goes straight through you, and you swallow it down, swallow every shaky exhale, every ragged moan he gives you. His hands are everywhere now—sliding up your back with desperate urgency, fingers splaying wide like he's trying to map every inch of you. He grips your waist, pulls you flush against him until there's no space left between your bodies. His thumbs find your hipbones and press in deep, anchoring himself to you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.
His touch grows more fevered, hands roaming restlessly—skimming along your ribs, ghosting over your spine, tangling in your hair before sliding down to cup your face. Like he can't decide where he needs to touch you most, like every point of contact isn't enough. His fingers trace the line of your jaw, your throat, before his palms flatten against your back and drag you impossibly closer.
The kiss turns frantic, almost violent in its urgency. He bites your lower lip, not quite gentle, and you respond by nipping at his jaw, his throat, anywhere you can reach. When you suck a mark into the hollow of his collarbone, he arches into you with a broken whimper that makes your chest ache and your pulse stutter.
The sound he makes is devastating—raw and needy and completely unguarded. It tears from his throat like it's been ripped out of him, and you feel the vibration of it against your lips. His head falls back, exposing the long line of his throat, and another whimper escapes when you press your mouth there, feeling his pulse racing beneath his skin.
"Please," he gasps against your mouth when you return to his lips, the word breaking on a shuddering breath. His voice is wrecked, desperate. You're not sure what he's begging for—maybe for you to never stop touching him, maybe for this moment to stretch into forever, maybe for the chip in his body to just be quiet, just for tonight.
His hands shake as they frame your face, like he's afraid you're not real. When you kiss him again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against his, he melts completely. His skin is burning hot under your palms, flushed and damp with tears he didn't realize he was still shedding. You brush them away with your thumbs while never breaking the kiss, and he leans into the gentleness like he's been starving for it, like your touch is the only thing that can keep him sane.
When you finally break apart, both of you gasping for air, his forehead drops against yours. His eyes are wet, lips swollen and trembling, and he looks at you like you’re the only solid thing in a world that’s constantly shifting beneath his feet.
“I don’t want to forget this,” he chokes out, voice breaking on every word. “Not this. Not you. Not the way you taste, or how your hands feel in my hair, or the sound you make when I—” His voice cracks completely, and he has to stop, breathing hard.
You kiss him again, rough and immediate, like you’re sealing a vow between you. When you pull back, it’s just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Then don’t. Hold onto this. Hold onto me.”
“I will,” he promises, and kisses you again, softer this time but no less desperate. “I will.”
And slowly, achingly slow, he comes back to himself. You watch it happen in degrees—first his breathing evens out against your chest, then the rigid tension in his shoulders melts away. His eyes refocus on yours, that distant, calculating look fading until you can see him again, really him.
The spark returns to his eyes gradually, like a fire being carefully rekindled. That reckless and untamed fire you know so well, flickering back to life even through the lingering haze of fear. Tears still cling to his lashes, turning amethyst into something raw and breakable. He lets out a shaky laugh—half relief, half despair—and leans his forehead against yours, like the closeness itself is what keeps him steady.
“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “Every time I feel it pulling me under, I think—this is it. This is the moment I lose myself for good. And then…” His hand finds yours, grips it with desperate strength. “And then you say my name. And somehow I’m still here.”
“You’ll always be here,” you tell him, meaning it with every fiber of your being. “As long as I’m breathing, you’ll always have a way back.”
He closes his eyes, and for a moment you both just exist in that fragile space between loss and hope, holding onto each other like the world might end if you let go.
When he looks at you again, his expression has softened. His eyes carry that familiar glint that makes your stomach flutter. “Alrighty,” he says, his voice lighter again. He shoots you a wink. “Guess I’ll just follow your lead on this one, pipsqueak. Not like I’m any good at resisting you anyway.”
The fact he’s joking again although talking about his very core eases your worries. You stare at him, once again dumbfounded by his beauty, inside and out, the fact he's yours. You smile at him softly, and Caleb lets out a huff. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m never going to hold back. Don’t blame me when I let go of all control, though. Becauuuse. Seeing you does make me want to absorb all you‘re giving me.” The crinkles around his eyes, his teasing voice. You almost start breaking into tears but linger on a quiet laugh instead.
“I wouldn‘t have it any other way,” you say. When he kisses you again, it’s more tender and intense and full of promise. His breathing trembles, but you feel the smile against your lips.
Maybe this—this love, this connection—is the only thing standing between Caleb and the abyss. And if that’s true, then you’ll guard it with everything you have, for as long as you have it.
For now, Caleb is here. He’s yours. And that is enough.
___
A/N: Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. They fuel my writing. :)
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