he hears your keys before the lock even finishes turning. by the time the door swings inward, he’s already there, one hand braced against the frame as he waits for you to step inside. you barely have enough time to smile before he closes the distance between you, fingers finding your waist with quiet familiarity, easing your bag from your shoulder without either of you saying a word. it slips to the floor somewhere behind him. you don’t hear where. you don’t really care. caleb’s forehead brushes yours for the briefest second before he turns his head, his nose skimming your cheek until it settles beside your neck like that’s where he’d been trying to get all day. he exhales slowly. the kind of breath someone lets out after carrying too much for too long. your shoulders soften immediately.
“hey,” you whisper.
all he gives you is a low hum against your skin. his arms tighten around your waist, not enough to keep you there, just enough that you know if you moved he’d follow without thinking. you smile to yourself.
“long day?”
another hum. warmer this time. the corner of your mouth lifts a little more. he always did this. whenever the world got too loud, whenever the missions stretched longer than they should have or paperwork refused to end or people demanded too much of him, he’d find you and disappear into the quiet space between your neck and shoulder like he’d remembered where breathing was supposed to feel easy. you lift one hand to the back of his head, fingers slipping through the dark strands at his nape. they’re softer than they look. they always have been. the instant your nails lightly scratch against his scalp, you feel him melt. not dramatically. just enough that the tension in his shoulders eases beneath your palm. another slow breath fans across your collarbone.
“there you are,” you murmur.
his answer is the faint brush of his lips against your neck. not a kiss meant to make your heart race. just one that lingers for a second too long before he rests there again. absentminded. familiar. almost unconscious. like his body remembered something before his mind did. you lean your head gently against his. outside, someone laughs somewhere down the hall. a door closes. the city keeps moving without either of you. inside your apartment, time seems to settle.
“you hungry?” you ask quietly.
he doesn’t answer. instead, you feel the smallest shake of his head where it’s tucked beside your neck.
eventually he murmurs,
“not yet.”
his voice is barely audible, softened by the fabric of your shirt.
The keys missed the lock twice. The door slammed harder than it should have. A low, vicious curse followed - the kind he only made when he was trying not to be sick or scream.
You were already in the halllway when he finally got it open.
Cold air rushed in with him. He stood there swaying, jacket half off one shoulder, hair sticking to his damp forehead. His eyes were glassy and too bright, pupils blown so wide the normally gorgeous violet color had almost disappeared. Sweat clung to his throat despite the cold.
He looked like he’d crawled out of something that had tried to keep him.
And he was angry about it.
At the world. At himself. At the fact that he still couldn’t stay away from you even when he’d spent all night trying to fuck the wanting out of his system.
“Caleb.”
His head jerked up at your voice.
For one second, something raw and ugly flashed across his face- like he’d been caught doing something shameful. Then it collapsed into something worse.
Relief.
The kind that looked like it hurt him.
He stumbled forward and you caught him, arms locking around his waist as his weight sagged into you. He smelled like smoke and liquor and the sharp chemical bite of whatever he’d taken to make the night bearable. His arm came around your shoulders too tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t anchor himself to you.
Your stomach turned.
“What did you take?”
He laughed once. It sounded like it scraped his throat raw.
“Don’t,” he muttered into your hair. “Don’t sound like her.”
You didn’t loosen your grip. “Then stop coming home like this. Like you’re trying to die in pieces.”
Caleb went still.
Then his face pressed harder into the side of your neck, breath shaking.
“Needed you,” he said, so quiet it almost didn’t make it out. “All fucking night. Couldn’t stop thinking about-” His voice cracked. “Couldn’t make it stop.”
You knew what it was.
The wanting. The guilt. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. The way he touched girls at parties and hated himself for pretending they were you. The way he kept trying to burn the feeling out of his body with strangers and substances and noise, only to end up herre anyway - shaking and desperate and clinging to the one person he wasn’t allowed to have.
You got him to his room somehow.
He nearly took you down with him twice in the hallway. By the time you shoved his door shut behind you, he was breathing like he’d run miles.
“Sit,” you said.
He dropped onto the bed like his legs gave out.
Then his hands shot out and grabbed you.
Hard.
He pulled you between his knees with enough force that you had to catch yourself on his shoulders. His fingers dug into your waist like he was drowning.
“Caleb.”
He didn’t answer. Just pressed his forehead into your stomach, arms locking around you so tightly it hurt. You could feel him shaking. Could feel the way his breathing kept catching like he was trying not to fall apart completely.
“Loosen your grip,” you said quietly
His arms only tightened.
“Caleb.”
Something in your voice finally reached him. His fingers flexed, then eased by the smallest fraction. Enough to let you breathe.
You slid one hand into his hair, the way you always did when he was like this. “Good. Stay with me.”
He made a sound against your stomach - low and broken and too close to a sob.
The high was turning on him. You could feel it in the way his body couldn’t settle, couldn’t decide if it wanted to collapse or crawl out of his own skin. His temperature was all wrong. Burning up and clammy at the same time.
You tried to step back for water.
His grip went vicious.
“No.”
“I’m getting you water.”
“No.”
The word came out ugly. Frightened. Like a child who’d been left too many times.
You looked down at him.
Caleb lifted his face.
His eyes were wet. Glassy. Furious in that helpless way that made your chest ache.
“Don’t leave,” he said. It came out like an accusation. Like you’d already done it. Like everyone always did.
“I’m not leaving,” you said. “I’m two steps away.”
“That’s still leaving.”
“It’s water, Caleb.”
“I don’t want water.” His voice cracked. “I want you.”
The words hung there, too honest, too raw for whatever he’d taken to excuse them.
You swallowed.
“No.”
His eyes flicked to your mouth. Something dark and wanting moved through his expression, then collapsed into shame so fast it almost looked like pain.
“You always say no like you’re waiting for me to make you say yes,” he whispered.
Your throat closed.
“Not tonight.”
That landed like a slap.
For one terrifying second, he looked almost sober.. Like the drugs had burned away and left only the truth underneath.
Then he dragged you down again- not to kiss you, but to bury his face in your neck like he could disappear there. His breath came hot and shaking against your skin. His arms trembled around you.
You froze.
“Caleb…”
His mouth pressed against the soft skin beneath your jaw. Once. Then again. Not gentle. Not careful. Like he was trying to crawl inside you through the only way he was allowed.
You grabbed his hair, not pulling, just holding him still.
“Stop.”
His mouth opened against your neck. A rough, shaking breath. Then his teeth grazed the spot where your pulse hammered.
You sucked in a sharp breath.
“Caleb.”
He bit.
Not hard enough to break skin.
Hard enough to make your knees go weak. Hard enough to leave heat and ache and something far more dangerous blooming under your skin.
Your fingers tightened in his hair.
For one suspended second, neither of you moved.
Then he went completely still.
Like the sound you made had finally cut through the fog.
He pulled back slowly.
His eyes found the mark on your neck. Then your face.
The horror that crossed his expression was worse than anything else tonight.
Not because he’d done it.
Because he wanted to do worse.
Because even through the chemical haze, he could still picture it — pinning you down on his bed, spreading your thighs open, sinking into you raw and deep while you cried his name. He wanted to bite you harder, mark your breasts, your inner thighs, your throat. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn’t walk, until the only thing you could feel was him, until every other boy who ever looked at you would know you already belonged to someone who would ruin himself just to have you.
But even wrecked and high and half out of his mind, some part of him still knew exactly what he was taking from you every time he came home like this.
You swallowed. Your voice shook. “Bed. Now.”
Caleb stared at you like you’d asked him to cut off his own hands.
Then he obeyed.
You pushed him back against the mattress. Pulled off his jacket. Set water on the nightstand after prying yourself out of his grip long enough to get it. His hands kept finding you - your wrist, your sleeve, the hem of your shirt - like he needed constant proof you hadn’t vanished.
You sat beside him on the edge of the bed, far enough to think, close enough for him to hold your hand.
He took it immediately. Gripped it too hard.
You let him.
He was coming down now. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his body kept jerking like it was trying to escape itself. Every few minutes he made a low, broken sound and turned his face toward your thigh like he wanted to hide there.
“You’re okay,” you murmured.
He laughed once. It sounded like dying.
“No.”
Your thumb brushed over his knuckles.
“No,” you agreed softly. “But you’re here.”
His grip tightened until it hurt.
The anger had burned out of him, leaving only the need. Ugly. Raw. Too big for either of you to hold.
He opened his eyes. Looked at you like you were the last good thing in a world that had already taken everything else from him.
“Don’t tell me you hate me tomorrow,” he whispered.
Your chest cracked open.
“I won’t.”
“You should.”
“I know.”
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye into his hairline. He looked furious about it - like even crying was something he didn’t deserve.
You pretended not to see.
Instead, you leaned down and kissed his forehead. Only his forehead. The same way you had since you were children.
Caleb shut his eyes like it hurt more than anything else tonight.
“Sleep,” you whispered.
His fingers curled tighter around yours.
“Stay.”
You shouldn’t.
You did.
You lay beside him on top of the blankets, one hand still trapped in his, your body turned carefully away from every place he wanted to touch and couldn’t. Caleb shifted closer anyway- not enough to cross the line he’d already nearly broken tonight.
Just enough to rest his forehead against your shoulder.
The bite on your neck throbbed in time with your heartbeat.
His breathing slowly evened out behind you.
And when the room finally went quiet, when the party and the drugs and the girls were gone and there was nothing left but the two of you in the dark, Caleb’s fingers curled weakly into yours like a man drowning.
Like always.
Like wreckage.
Like the only home he’d ever known was the one place he wasn’t allowed to keep.
from a boy whose hand you first held years ago to a man who will do everything in the name of love. marriage suits both you and your husband far too well— so well that there might be a little addition soon! but how will he react to it?
genre/warnings:
suggestive, protective!caleb, pregnancy, lots of fluff and crack, domestic bliss, attempt of assassination, hurt/comfort, overall very self-indulgent, spoilers! from caleb’s card skyline
note:
caleb is a canon softie :') and i need more fluff too so <3 this is an extension of the colonel’s wife but can also be read as standalone. tagging @kingraspberry12-blog as per request
Caleb knows you are hiding something.
It had been two weeks since you started avoiding him—and if you thought you were doing a good job pulling wool over his eyes, you were sorely mistaken. He saw through every forced laugh and brittle smile, yet chose to play along and let you keep the illusion of normalcy for as long as you needed it.
But the question remains… what could possibly be grave enough that you'd rather carry it alone than turn to him?
At first, he thought it was momentary and chose not to pry.
But then days stretched on, and on one fateful day after you went to work, he discovered an empty box of your contraceptive pills thrown away in the trash.
That was where he drew the line—his amethyst eyes hardened and narrowing with unmistakable displeasure. Why are you still taking them?
That night, you went home earlier.
You hadn’t been feeling well lately, yet you kept telling yourself you were fine—everything had happened so suddenly and you were still sorting through your thoughts.
What you hadn’t expected was to find your husband home early, too.
“Ah, you’re home?”
Naked, no less.
Caleb stood there in nothing but his boxers. You actually gulped, blinking at his chiseled abs—and that suspiciously large bulge—before you.
“Caleb… why... aren’t you wearing anything?”
The stunned way you gawked at him almost made him laugh. He had always adored how easily your expressions gave you away, and now as you looked positively confused between admiring his body or questioning him, you looked especially endearing.
Still, he was on a mission tonight.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer. You dumbly blinked.
One step. Then another.
Your back met the wall before you realized you’d retreated at all. Caleb’s arms came up beside your head, caging you in—not touching, not yet, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.
“Caught you,” he murmured, gaze dropping to your lips, a sly smile curving his face.
Your heart started pounding despite yourself, because hey, it had been a while—
But then your voice got caught in your throat when his sharp eyes pierced you straight—
“Tell me. What exactly have you been hiding from me?”
“Uh, wha—”
“You are hiding something from me.”
“Caleb, that’s—”
“What is it?”
His larger figure loomed over you, overwhelming as if you were faced with the Farspace Colonel instead of your gentle husband, and suddenly you felt small—like a rabbit cornered with nowhere left to run.
“N-Nothing...”
So you still wouldn’t admit it. It irritated Caleb so suddenly.
“Nothing, huh? What a liar.”
His mouth claimed yours in a rough kiss then, unyielding and demanding, like he was trying to wrench the truth out of you through force. You froze in shock, barely given a moment to react—
He shoved himself closer, his hardened crotch started grinding against you. Your head spun—but when his hand slid inside your blouse and closed around your breast, the pain was immediate and sharp, tearing a shriek from you.
“S-stop!”
Caleb pulled back almost instantly, his hand retreating as if burned. Your reaction was wrong—you were never this sensitive. His eyes widened as the haze cleared, gaze dropping to where you instinctively clutched yourself, shoulders hunched.
“…Hey.” Caleb’s voice lowered, the edge dulling into something tight with concern and guilt as he realized it was because of him. “What’s going on?”
He reached out again, slower this time, stopping before touching you. His jaw clenched, frustration warring with worry as he searched your face. You looked away, biting your lips in shame.
Do you really have tell him now?
“…You were taking those pills,” he accused then. “Why? Do you not want us to have—”
Oh, to hell with it.
“I’m pregnant!”
Silence. Caleb blinked at your words, taking them in. Of all the possibilities he’d braced himself for, this was the last one he’d expected.
But then he realized, everything made total sense.
The way your hand would drift to your abdomen when you thought he wasn’t looking. How you looked more exhausted as of late. Your dwindling appetite, the half-finished meals...
There was going to be your baby—also his baby—sooner than he had ever imagined.
Meanwhile, all you wanted to do was run—crawl back into a pillow fortress and hide from Caleb, just like you used to years ago. Your face burned, you were scared, and there were many things running in your mind as one, this was totally not planned and two, you couldn't predict how your husband would react at all.
Though, really… with the amount of sex you did, especially that last time, of course this would happen sooner than later!
“You are...”
You met his eyes again, and despite all your fears, the look you found there stole your breath away. His gaze softened completely, filled with quiet wonder as it lingered on you.
Then, slowly—almost reverently—his large hand rose and settled against your belly. Still flat, still unchanged, yet to him, it already held everything.
“Oh…” he breathed, and you could have sworn his eyes glistened then.
“Caleb—” You didn’t get to finish. His expression broke into pure, unrestrained joy. The grin that spread across his face was dazzling—the one you loved most, the one that made him look younger and lighter.
Before you could react, his arms were around you, strong and sure as he lifted you clean off the ground. You gasped as he spun you around, crisp laughter tumbling out of him, breathless and giddy, like he couldn’t quite contain himself.
“We’re—” he laughed, almost incredulous. “We are really—!”
Caleb pulled you closer against his chest, holding you as if afraid to let go now, forehead pressing to yours as he exhaled, still smiling too wide.
“We’re going to be parents,” he said, joy ringing through every word, dark purple eyes locking yours with so much love. And despite yourself, you laughed too.
You felt silly now for being afraid telling him at all. What do you have to fear when Caleb has always, unfailingly, been by your side?
“Yeah... we do,” you said with a wide smile. “That’s why I stopped taking the pills.”
Now it all clicked. His previous thoughts made Caleb purse his lips. There was no way he could let that stand—his pride would take a hit if you didn’t want to carry his child.
How silly of him to think that when he was about to get a taste of heaven. A child, a result from love the two of you shared, would soon be born in this world. A precious treasure— one he would guard with his life.
Caleb squeezed your fingers, still smiling as he gave you his promise. “Mark my words. You’re not doing this alone. Not for a second.”
Caleb was serious when he said you weren't doing this alone.
For almost every check up, he was there beside you, hand firm around yours, listening to every word the doctor said as if it were law.
“Is there anything that can help with the nausea?” Caleb asked, concern breaking through his usually even tone. “She’s been throwing up a lot—sometimes even at night.”
“Oh, sure. I'll prescribe something for that.”
“And could you recommend supplements beyond folic acid and iron?” he added without missing a beat. “What’s the best prenatal vitamin brand right now?”
The doctor paused, somewhat taken aback, before nodding and writing everything he requested. Once the consultation wrapped up, she turned to you with a warm, knowing smile.
“Well, you are lucky,” she said lightly. “You certainly have a very caring husband.”
. . .
At home, chores you used to split became his domain. Laundry, cleaning, errands—he handled them without complaint, without being asked.
“You used to nag me about chores,” you teased, watching him run the vacuum across the floor. Your voice turned sing-song as you settled comfortably on the couch. “Now I get to sit here and be a princess~”
Caleb glanced your way, a half-chuckle leaving him.
“Just for nine months. Enjoy it while it lasts, Princess Pipsqueak.”
Though he knew deep down that once the baby arrived, he wouldn’t let you lift a finger then either.
. . .
“Caleeeb, I want those lemon-flavored sourdough!”
“Wha?”
If there was one thing he secretly liked the most since you’d become pregnant, it was how shamelessly spoiled and clingy you’d become.
Though… your cravings were getting downright outrageous.
“And not just any lemon,” you added, hands moving as if shaping the idea in midair. “It has to be really sour. With crunchy edges. If it doesn’t make my face scrunch up, then it’s wrong.”
Your eyes gleamed with fierce determination, as though the balance of the universe depended on that single loaf. Your husband stared at you for a beat before laughing, shaking his head in disbelief.
“…You do realize this is highly unreasonable,” he said, already pulling out his phone to check nearby bakeries anyway.
“Nuh-uh. The baby wants it, so it’s totally reasonable.”
He shot you a sideways look. “You hate lemons—and don’t you say it’s because the baby is half of me. Are you just getting revenge for all the times I teased you when we were kids…?”
And you crisply giggled, latching onto his arm with a sly smile. “The baby is exacting revenge. I’d call it karma.”
Oh, this is bad. With hormones as your ultimate excuse, you could make him do just about anything. You and his unborn child had him completely wrapped around your pinky already.
“Get me soooome.”
“I’ll try, I’ll try...”
And judging by the smug and utterly cute smile you gave him, he already knew there was no universe where he wouldn’t come back with that crunchy lemon-sour loaf for you and your baby.
. . .
“By now, baby is the size of a sweet potato…”
Caleb read the line aloud from his phone. Over the past months, this had become his little ritual—checking the baby app every now and then to get info about the growth of the baby, reading through the articles with almost comical seriousness.
You watched him, warmth blooming in your chest. It was hard to miss how utterly in love he was with the life growing inside you.
Caleb set his phone aside and reached for you then, his hand settling over the gentle swell of your bare belly. He patted it absently at first, then more deliberately, thumb brushing slow, careful circles.
“Sweet potato,” he murmured fondly, as if speaking directly to the baby. “Grow big and strong, okay? Eat well from your mom—I’m making sure she has plenty of good food.”
You nudged him playfully, laughing. “Don’t call our baby sweet potato! That’s the worst nickname ever.”
You leaned into him, head resting against his shoulder, and Caleb pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head. His hand remained over your belly, and for a moment, the world outside faded away.
Caleb had always been your steadfast protector against life’s bitterness. And in that quiet moment, memories of everything you’d endured before came rushing back.
Your vibrant childhood, carefree high school days, the separation when Caleb first went to the Aerospace Academy, that terrible explosion, and finally reuniting with the man he’d become: the feared Farspace Colonel—
With quiet certainty, you lifted your head and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, catching him off guard.
“Yeah… even in the next life, I want to be your meimei again,” you said, eyes sparkling as he turned towards you. “If it means having this life with you, then I’d go through everything all over again.”
Caleb gazed at you, the softest of smile tugging at his lips. He remembered you saying something like this too long ago—but he had his own answer to that.
“No. Like I said, in the next life, I don’t want to be just your childhood friend or your brother…”
His hand lifted to cup your face, brushing your cheeks gently.
“I want to be your childhood friend, who never leaves your side. Your brother, who protects you from everything…”
The way he looked at you... ever so tender that you almost tear up.
“And above all… Your husband, who loves you even as the world falls apart. I want to be all of them.”
A rush of pure, unadulterated happiness swelled inside you, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him. Caleb responded, pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.
Then you whispered in his ear, giddy and breathless, “Our baby… she’s a girl, you know.”
He hadn’t been able to come with you to today’s checkup due to work. Caleb froze for a heartbeat, processing the news. The thought hit him like a tide—
Another princess to spoil and cherish.
He hadn’t realized he wanted a daughter until this very moment.
Without another word, he pulled you closer, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deep, fierce, and gentle all at once. His hands settled firmly on your widened hips—where the testament of your love grew, as the full weight of his feelings flooded through you, reaching deep into your soul.
Even with your pregnancy, Caleb’s demanding role as the Farspace Colonel didn’t pause. His duties were constant, and the weight of responsibility always loomed like a shadow.
One evening, you attended the Fleet’s yearly banquet together. You were dressed to the nines—hair perfectly styled, and wrapped in beige evening gown that accentuated your figure, meanwhile Caleb looked imposing and untouchable in his white uniform.
In front of these people, Colonel Caleb was all discipline and precision, stripped of the warmth he showed you at home. The only hint of the man you knew was the possessive arm he kept on your waist throughout the evening.
For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, expecting the night to pass smoothly.
“I think I’ll head to the restroom,” you said then when you felt the need to, nudging him with a practiced smile as the two of you were still in a conversation with a lieutenant.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” His gaze sharpened immediately. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, no,” you said, waving him off, and he reluctantly let you go.
His eyes stayed on you as you walked away. The lieutenant noticed and laughed. “Colonel, she’s not going anywhere. Expecting women just tend to visit bathroom a lot.”
Even knowing that, Caleb’s unease didn’t fade. He couldn’t shake the sense that danger was lurking just beyond the glittering lights, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And his gut feeling was proven soon enough.
Gunshots rang out, cutting through the orchestra’s music and the chatter of high-ranking officers. Screams echoed across the hall, crystal glasses shattered, and chaos erupted in an instant.
Panic surged through him as he took out his gun. Caleb’s blood ran cold. He had to get to you—now.
The hall had become unrecognizable—smoke in the air, overturned tables, guests scrambling in blind panic. Caleb pushed through it all with ruthless focus, barking orders as he moved, his eyes scanning every corner.
Another shot rang out nearby. He didn’t flinch.
“Clear the west exit,” he snapped into his comm, already moving in the opposite direction. You wouldn’t run toward the exits. You’d hide. In your condition now, he knew you wouldn’t take risks.
His instincts pulled him toward a service corridor near the restrooms. The lights flickered there, half the hallway plunged into shadow. He slowed, senses sharp.
Then he heard it. A soft, broken breath. Caleb turned—and saw you.
You were crouched behind a toppled decorative screen, shoulders trembling as you struggled to stay silent. Your eyes were wide, glassy with fear, one hand pressed protectively over your belly.
Relief hit him so hard it almost knocked the air from his lungs.
“Y/N!”
You looked up at the sound of his voice, and the moment your eyes met his, everything you’d been holding back shattered. “Caleb…”
He was at your side in seconds, dropping to his knees and pulling you into his arms without hesitation.
“I’ve got you,” he said firmly. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
Your fingers clutched his uniform like it was the only solid thing left in the world. He felt the tremor in your body, the shallow breaths you were trying and failing to control.
“I was waiting for you... I didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.”
“I know. You did exactly right,” he muttered, lifting you to your feet. “Can you walk?”
You nodded, though a small flinch betrayed you as you took your first step.
Another distant shout echoed down the hall. Caleb’s jaw tightened, instincts snapping back into place. “Follow me.”
Caleb didn’t loosen his grip as he guided you through the smoke-filled corridor, his body angled slightly in front of yours. One hand stayed firm around you, the other ready with his gun, eyes constantly scanning ahead.
Your heart pounded—not only from fear, but from the way he shielded you so completely, as though nothing in the world was allowed to reach you while he stood.
The exit was finally in sight, when—
Bang! A gunshot cracked through the air.
Caleb reacted without thinking.
He twisted, yanking you hard against his chest as his body turned fully between you and the sound. The impact came a split second later— a blindsiding burn tearing across his side. He grunted.
“Caleb!” You screamed, clutching him as you realized he’d taken the bullet.
He didn’t falter. His arm clamped around you, forcing you completely behind him as he drove you forward, jaw locked tight.
“I’m fine,” he snapped harshly, looking at you squarely in the eyes, though his breath hitched. “Go!”
Then he turned back. At point-blank range, his gun came up—steady, merciless, and fired at its target in a blink of an eye. Bang!
The dead body of your attacker dropped almost at your feet.
You stared at him, frozen in shock. This was your husband, standing between you and death without a second thought.
But then his grip slipped. Blood was soaking through his pristine uniform now, dark and spreading far too fast.
“Caleb…!” Your voice broke as his knees gave out.
You barely caught him in time, arms trembling as his full weight collapsed against you. His head fell forward, consciousness slipping as blood loss finally claimed its price.
“Caleb—no—no, please—!”
Your frantic cries were heartbreaking to hear, but at least you were safe. Between you and him, he’d made that choice a long time ago.
If someone had to get hurt, it should always be him.
When Caleb came to hours later, pain greeted him first—sharp, pulsing, a reminder that his body had taken more than it should have.
And even in pain, his first thought was you.
He tried to sit up immediately, muscles spasming in protest as agony ripped through his side. A sharp hiss escaped him, but he ignored it, hands gripping the edge of the bed as he forced himself upright.
“Hey—Colonel, don’t move!” someone barked.
“Where is she?” Caleb demanded hoarsely, scanning the sterile room like you might be hiding just out of sight. “My wife—where is she?”
A familiar face stepped into his line of vision, one of his peers from the Fleet. “She’s safe,” he reported. “She was brought in right after you. She is finishing her saline now.”
Why were you brought here too? Were you hurt after he passed out? Panic hit him so hard it left him dizzy.
“Take me to her,” Caleb said at once, already swinging his legs over the bed despite the pain. “Now.”
“Colonel, you were shot—!”
Thankfully, before he could make it out of the bed, the door slid open, and he snapped his head towards it.
You stood there, pale and shaken, IV pole beside you, eyes red and glassy the moment you found him. Relief flooded him the moment he saw you.
“Caleb—”
However, your voice broke, and you crossed the room in a rush, tears spilling freely as you clutched at him like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go. He caught you instantly, one arm wrapping around you despite the sting of his injuries, pulling you against his chest.
You sobbed into him, fingers twisting in the fabric of his hospital gown. “You scared m-me!” you cried. “You s-scared me so much…”
His hand came up to cradle your head, holding you there as his own racing heart finally began to slow. “Shh, it’s okay...”
“Don’t you ever pull something like that again!” You were shaking in his arms, choked up by your tears. “What if you’d been hurt worse? What would I do then?!”
Your words cut deep. The raw fear woven in your voice made him still.
For a fleeting, bitter second, he got a flashback—the way you’d once said you didn’t need him, spoken so spitefully.
But now...
Now you were trembling against him, terrified at the thought of losing him, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.
“Hey, don’t cry...” Caleb shushed, rubbing slow circles against your back, his chest aching painfully at the sight of you. “Stop crying… I’ll be fine, alright? I’ll be back on my feet before you know it.”
Now there was also a baby growing inside you, fragile, depending on him just as much as you did.
While he wasn’t able to promise you that he’d stop putting himself in harm’s way for you, Caleb finally understood this much: his life mattered far more than he had ever allowed himself to believe.
Ever since the incident, you’d been placed on occasional bedrest. You hadn’t been physically injured, but the shock alone had been enough to make you bleed twice.
And Caleb became more overprotective than ever.
From then on, he watched you like a hawk. Too quiet? He was at your side. A wince, a shift in posture, even a flicker of discomfort—and he was instantly alert, hand already reaching for you, voice tight with concern.
“Are you okay?”
“Does it hurt?”
“Do you need to lie down?”
Nothing slipped past him. Not anymore. You caught him hovering constantly, and every time you reassured him, he nodded—but the tension never fully left his shoulders.
You almost thought it was suffocating. Yet one night, after a particularly bad cramp that left you curled in on yourself and drifting at the edge of sleep, you heard him whispering to your belly—
“I love both of you so much, okay? So please, be safe and healthy always.”
His palm rested protectively over your bump, thumb moving in slow circles, as if he could soothe both of you at once.
And you realized— Caleb had always been this way, and your heart ached warmly because of it.
. . .
“Caleb, what are you doing?”
By the time you reached your eighth month, your movements had slowed, your days quieter. One afternoon, you found him in the nursery, legs crossed on the floor with the instruction manual spread out in front of him.
The baby crib stood half-assembled. You stared at it, equal parts surprised and impressed.
Meanwhile, he frowned at it like it was an enemy combatant.
“Well, well~” you teased in a sing-song voice. “What do we have here? Will Caleb finish the crib… or will the crib finish him?”
He gave you a stink eye. “I’ve got this,” he retorted. “I just need to go through this... and the crib will be done in no time.”
You perched on the nearby couch, arching your sore spine as you watched him work. His movements were careful, each screw tightened with the same focus he used to have when he crammed for exams back in school… except now, it was for something so small.
Despite yourself, memories surfaced on their own. Mornings from your childhood, him standing behind you, fingers clumsy yet careful as he tied ribbons into your hair.
“Aren’t you the cutest?” he’d always say afterward, even if the ribbons sat a little crooked.
“Yay! It's so pretty, Caleb!”
The memory unwittingly brought tears to your eyes. Oh, your hormones were messing you up again, because the very thought that—
One day, those same hands would tie ribbons into your daughter’s hair too. He was going to be such a good father.
Caleb glanced up just in time to catch the shine in your eyes. “Hey,” he was immediately concerned, abandoning the screwdriver. He moved closer and dropped to one knee to match your height. “What’s wrong? Is something hurt?”
The way his amethyst eyes looked at you with such worry made your heart lurch. You shook your head, laughing softly. “No… I was just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“About how you used to do my hair when we were kids.”
Caleb blinked at your words, and you reached for his hand, pressing it over your belly.
“And how you’re going to do that for her too.”
For a second, he looked stunned—then his expression softened in a way that made your heart stutter.
“…Yeah,” he said quietly, ruffling your hair fondly with his other hand. “I will.”
Moments like this made it sink in just how much of your life had been intertwined with his. You grew up side by side, once seeing him as your dependable brother, until those feelings blossomed into something more.
And Caleb had always been the same. No matter how hard he tried to keep his distance, he was inevitably drawn back to you.
In every version of himself, you were there.
From a boy who had dreams, to the fighter pilot chasing the skyline, to the colonel shaped by trauma— in the end, he was just a man who guarded your heart fiercely, as he gave a part of his in yours.
The day came before you knew it.
A horrible, blinding pain tore through your abdomen, stealing the air from your lungs as you gasped for breath. Your fingers clawed into the sheets as another wave crashed over you, stronger, tighter—
Somewhere through the haze of pain, you heard your own voice calling out his name—
And a strong hand closed around yours that instant, Caleb’s voice grounding you even as everything spun.
Your labor had started in the dead of the night. From the moment it began, Caleb never left your side. He held you through every contraction, soothing you when the excruciating pain threatened to pull you apart— even as his own anxiety spiked with every passing hour that drew you closer to birthing your daughter.
This is really happening.
Watching you endure that much agony was almost too much for him to bear. Flushed face, damp forehead, your hoarse wails echoing in the room—each cry cutting straight through his chest as you fought to bring your child into the world.
Then, after what seemed like forever—
In a single, breathless haze—
It was over. His daughter was born.
She fit perfectly in his arms, small and warm, wrapped tight in soft pink blanket. Wisps of hair peeked out as she shifted, releasing the faintest coos and drowsy little sounds.
Caleb fell in love again that instant, because her hair, tiny face, hands and feet were undeniably you. The only thing she’d taken from him was, oh—
Her eyes. You’d always told him how beautiful his eyes were, but it wasn’t until he saw them reflected in his daughter that he truly believed it.
“She’s so damn pretty already...”
“Caleb, don’t cuss!”
Seeing you out of the ordeal, still messy and exhausted, but very much still you, made Caleb emotional.
Throughout his whole life, he’d known his feelings for you. And now that you had given him a daughter... he realized with such clear clarity that—
“Of course she’s pretty... I’m her mother,” you said with a playful smirk, poking your newborn’s chubby cheeks. “You should thank me for fixing your genes.”
Caleb chuckled, pulling you close. “What? You are the one who should be thankful. She is going to be as smart as me.”
He is utterly, irrevocably, hopelessly in love with you.
You snorted, rolling your eyes. Even on the day your daughter was born, the two of you couldn’t resist your playful banter.
But deep down…
“Yeah… Caleb is the coolest, best of the best!”
You rested your head against his chest, and he was taken aback at first— because the last he heard you telling him that was so long ago, in the throes of your blissful younger days.
—and then he kissed the top of your hair, heart full, knowing this was exactly where he was meant to be.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, with your daughter sleeping peacefully between you, everything finally felt like home.
those two "adventure maps" you drew expanded a bunch of times. you've traveled a lot on your own in the time i've been gone, haven't you? those two maps remained consistent over the years, but they're probably different now. it's not a bad thing, though. this time you're finally ahead of me, pip-squeak.
INFECT ME WITH YOUR LOVIN'| KILL ME WITH YOUR POISON !
summ. After your base is attacked, you're left at the whims of the wilderness- that includes to a lonely Na'vi that seems to take a liking to you.
w/c. ~7.3k
tags. Na'vi!Caleb, human!reader, soft yandere, alienxhuman, Avatar (2009) AU, Slight angst and fluff, Mentions of war, forbidden love (kinda), forest setting, CAVE sex (again??), slight infantilization, doting Caleb, slight predator/prey dynamic, pathetic Caleb agenda, minor injuries, drooling, p in v, HUGE dick, masturbation, spitting, filthy filthy $mut, size difference, cvmming inside, begging caleb, he whines, making out, slightly maniuplative caleb
a/n. it's finally here...this one took me way too long lol. some minor things: in this AU humans can breath on pandora for minutes at a time without a mask. ur girl gotta have more time to make out w the aliens LOL. oh and also, brown skin is mentioned like once, but this is just to refer to human skin (since all skin tones are shades of brown, whether light or dark) not to make the reader insert a certain race.
Your breaths come in ragged, panicked pants, each puff fogging up the cracked glass of your mask. Your brain screams at you to move. Your body stays locked up, though, pinned against the rough bark of a tree.
The edge of an oxygen mask glints alluringly in the midday sun— untainted, uncracked, with advanced tech you know will last you months, but it lays about twenty feet away. And that’s twenty feet deeper into the foreign, bushy wilderness.
Head thumping back against the tree, you spare a few seconds to think. Most people, if not everyone in that lab, are getting killed or already dead. It’s likely still teeming with those hostile Na’vi, so it’s not like you’ll be able to go back anytime soon.
Fuck, this is what I get for applying for this position, you curse internally, gritting your teeth. Some shady military op that’s apparently trying to conquer an alien planet and put scientists like you, who were just trying to understand alien life, in danger.
Oxygen leaks out of your mask with a steady hiss. Your breaths grow shallower, chest tightening. You need that mask. Even if it risks giving up your hiding spot.
Slowly, you crawl out into the open, tufts of plush grass tickling your palms. You keep glancing surreptitiously towards the base, half expecting a screeching Na’vi to pounce at you at any second.
The mask is ten feet away. Now five. You’re about to make the final stretch. But first, you feel it: a little tingle on your skin, a dark inkling that something is wrong.
Then, you see it.
Two dark eyes are pinned on you, peeking through the thick foliage. A zap of terror shoots through you. Instead of recoiling back, you freeze, chest tightening in a way that has nothing to do with your lack of oxygen.
Time stands still.
Move, you snap at yourself internally, but you can only stay petrified, mouth agape, on your hands and knees, arm still reaching for the mask like an idiot.
Would moving even make a difference? The other part of your brain laments. It’s not like I could compete with a Na’vi’s speed.
Then, the branches part. The being reveals himself, all long, blue limbs toned with muscle. A male, you realize, unable to do much but stare right back at him. A bow is slung over his back.
Your heart pounds, fully anticipating him to just whip out an arrow and shoot you right there. But his gaze isn’t predatory or malicious, no— it’s sharp with curiosity, almost wide with surprise at seeing a human in these forests. He’s not one of those hostiles, then?
Even through his messy, brown hair, you can see that he dawns markings that don’t correlate with any tribes you’ve seen. With your experience in studying the Na’vi, you quickly catalogue potential identities. A lone hunter? A nomad?
He steps closer, and closer yet, until he’s just a foot away. Brilliant bright eyes— violet, you realize— drop from you, to the sought-after mask, before shooting back up to you.
Then, with all the grace and elegance of a cat, he crouches down and plucks the mask from the ground.
Desperation rising, you blurt, “No!”
He was merely turning the object in his large palms, inspecting it, but at your outburst he pauses, head slowly raising to stare at you. You resist the urge to clasp a hand over your mouth.
What were you thinking, yelling at this lethal alien? But he hasn’t killed me yet, when Na’vi are known for ending their victims relatively quickly, you ration. So maybe I have a chance?
Your oxygen mask beeps in warning, drawing his endlessly fascinated gaze. You need that mask.
“I mean,” you try again, this time in the basic Na’vi you picked up while studying, “that’s mine.”
The Na’vi tilts his head. Then his lips twitch, sharp eyebrows lowering, as if pleased by hearing you speak to him.
The one-sided conversation is interrupted by a loud crash from the base.
Both of your heads snap in the direction of the base. There’s another crash, accompanied by the screeching of approaching Na’vi that gets louder by the second. The takeover hasn’t stopped. It’d been just moving throughout the base, and now it’s moving towards you.
Finally, you scramble up, forget about that stupid mask, and run.
You don’t know where exactly you’re going. You just push through thick branches and foliage, hoping the vegetation will shield you from the hostiles’ eyes. But then you realize there’s a second set of footsteps behind you.
You shriek as a long arm binds around your waist, tugging you flush against a firm chest. A large blue hand grabs both of your flailing arms easily, and you’re hauled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
At first, you want to kick and fight some more, but when you look back at the wrecked base, distance from it growing with each of the Na’vi’s long strides, you see the building shake with a low boom, and arrows whiz past the interior. He’s saving you. And though you have no idea where you’re going, as long as it’s away from the mass slaughter taking place in there—
You can only tuck your face against the Na’vi’s neck and pray.
You feel him mount you on something, and you peek just a bit and see that he’s ushered you on an screeching ikran. “Wait,” you panic, squirming to look up at him, but he only glances down airily, before shoving your face into his broad chest with a large palm.
You suppose you should be grateful for the way your view is hindered as the ikran rocks and takes off shakily, as you’re positive you would’ve vomited everywhere if you were forced to see the treetops far below. You still squeal though, clutching at the Na’vi’s torso like it’s a lifeline, eyes squeezed shut. You swear you feel his chest rumbling with laughter against your cheek.
It’s been minutes when world tilts again, air rushing past your ears. You can feel yourself soaring up, steeper, before suddenly the ikran lands with surprising grace, and you’re on stable ground again.
The Na’vi wastes no time in dismounting and taking you up in his arms again. Finally, you open your eyes. The area is lush with vegetation, but it’s clearly distinct from where the base was. Jagged rocks jut out against hills, creating interconnected networks of caves that extend outwards in different openings.
He takes you to one of them. You assume it’s his longtime home, as it’s entrance is veiled by a net woven with beads and wooden vines. He lifts the veil, revealing a spacious interior that glows with bioluminescent fauna that glows dimly even midday. As he sets you down, you can only marvel at the space, curiously taking in a Na’vi den you’ve only studied on computer screens— yet this one seemed decisively different. Most Na’vi homes were villages, clusters of netting and treehouses that were interconnected, built alongside nature, but never the nature itself, like this cave you’re in. There were some similarities, such as the woven net covering the cave that extends slightly to create a hammock-like structure, before dipping to cover the cold stony floor, that suggested he’d settled here for long enough. He must not be a nomad then. But there’s no village in sight— so what is he?
Your thoughts are cut off when you’re lightly shoved onto the hammock without any warning.
You twist, only to see the Na’vi kneeling over you. “What— hey!”
Your words are in English, but he still seems to sense your distress. “Calm down,” his voice is surprisingly soothing even when he’s speaking an alien language. “I just need to fix you up.”
He gestures to a shallow gash on your shin that you didn’t even know was there. Huh.
“But first…” he delicately hands you the oxygen mask. You take it eagerly, discarding your old one. The Na’vi watches, fascinated by the sight of your face without a barrier, but you’re quick to clasp on the new mask, eyes averted.
You sigh in relief, the tightness in your lungs fading with just a few breaths of the recycled air. Yet, you tense up again when lithe fingers grip your shin.
Now it’s your turn to watch in fascination as the Na’vi brings out what looks like a giant pestle bowl and grind up some sort of herbs, the plants bleeding an alarmingly neon green color that honestly looks poisonous— but it’s not like you’re in any position to complain, so you just let him work. You shift your feet a little, feeling ridiculously out of place. He’s quiet, probably concentrated on his work, but your human mannerisms and curiosity urge you to fill the silence with conversation.
“So…” you clear your throat, straining your tongue to wrap around the foreign vowels of Na’vi to tell him your name, before adding, “what’s your name?”
“Ca’leb,” he answers simply.
“Caleb…” you probably mess up an accent or two, but that’s the least of your worries. Mindfully, as not to be rude to your host, you ask, “why did you save me?”
“Well, you were in danger,” Caleb hums simply, and you jerk when his long fingers apply the cool herbal salve along the stinging cut. As his grip shifts to unnecessarily cup your calf in a gentle caress, his violet gaze shimmers in the glowing fauna, intense yet almost shy. “Besides, I’ve never seen a human up close before. I just had to take you.”
Ooookay, you flush, refusing to meet his insistent gaze, I might be stuck with this weird loner Na’vi for a while. At least he’s healing me?
“Alright,” you clear your throat, “thank you. It was…awful back there.”
Caleb shifts closer, slender tail flicking behind him excitedly as he practically lounges on the hammock with you, sturdy netting barely dipping under his weight. “You’re welcome. In fact, I’m surprised you even got away. Humans seem very fragile…can I?”
You don’t even have a chance to reply before he’s practically feeling you up, large hands lifting and turning over your smaller limbs, eyes wide with intrigue. He pokes and prods at your ribs and thighs, drawing quiet noises of shock from you. His hands go up, pushing up the fabric of your shirt, exposing your stomach and almost—
You shove his hands away urgently, letting out a snap. “Don’t you even try going there! Please,” you add quickly, anxious about angering him.
Instead, Caleb looks sad, eyes widening and lip jutting, tail curling backwards dejectedly.
Huh. Strange equating this lethal creature to a puppy, but here we are.
To his credit, he gets over it relatively quick, a pleasant expression making its way back on his face. He tugs his hands away, as if just now realizing that personal space would be nice, especially after the frightful event you just experienced.
More alert now, he stands to his towering height and tucks some furs around you. “Get some rest,” he orders, heading towards the entrance of the cave, where he perches, bow by his side. “I’ll keep watch and make sure no hostile tribes followed us here.” You blink, watching him leave rather abruptly.
You’d think falling asleep in such an unfamiliar place is hard, especially when said place is the wilderness of an alien planet. Yet, with the soft elastic material beneath you and a hide pulled up to your chin, it’s not long before you’re in a land of dreams.
When you wake, the sun hangs low in the sky. Sitting up, you notice Caleb’s steady form is gone from the opening. Apprehensive mingles through you: you didn’t exactly want your only source of protection gone when you were out here in the wilderness.
Meekly, you stand— ignoring your stinging shin— and creep out of the shelter, lifting the netting to step out onto the grass. Glancing around doesn’t give you any more insight on where you are as you’d hoped. Well, it’s another forest, you think dryly, blinking up at the towering trees around you.
“What are you doing outside?”
You turn at the sound of his voice. Gone is the innocent exterior he held; Caleb’s glaring, sharp brows lowered and jaw clenched. Slung over his shoulder is a bloody carcass of some sort of creature, and despite his softness earlier, you find the violence comes eerily natural to him. You swallow thickly.
“I woke up and was just wondering where you went,” you stammer, and his expression slowly relaxes. He really can switch up, huh? You wonder. Are all Na’vi like this?
“Alright,” with a hand on the small of your back, you’re ushered back inside. “Right on time for dinner. Just don’t walk on your injury, yeah?”
You nod, perching back on the hammock. You watch him bring the animal just outside the cave, where he sparks up a small flame. You choose to look away as he hacks at the meat with a knife into tiny cuts— you’ve been on this planet for a while, but as a scientist, your exposure to the wilderness and camping has been limited to cooking smores back on Earth. Eventually, though, Caleb returns with a steaming plate of roasted meat, with a side of what looks like grain and herbs. It’s not any human food, but just the smell of it is enough to make you salivate.
“Thank you,” you eagerly reach for the bowl, but Caleb merely pulls it back an inch, shaking his head with a smile.
“Let me feed you. You should save your energy,” and he’s perching right next to you on the hammock, scooping some food onto a spoon.
“Oh, no, I’m alright—”
He’s already holding out a spoonful. “Say ahh!”
Reluctant, you lift your oxygen mask, leaning forward to take a bite. Caleb watches your expression, enraptured, as you chew and swallow. You give him a strained smile— the food is amazing, but having him be so attentive is a bit embarrassing.
“Delicious,” you comment as you slip the mask on for a second to steal some breaths of oxygen. Caleb lights up at the praise, lips splitting with a smile, big eyes glimmering.
“Good. Eat it all, then. You need strength, yawntutsyìp,” you have no idea what that nickname means, but you continue letting him feed you.
“You should eat too.”
“I will, later.”
“Alright,” eating and rushing a few breaths of oxygen doesn’t exactly leave any room for speaking, but your curiosity really knows no bounds. “What animal is this?”
“It’s a syìl*,”*** Caleb seems eager to hold a conversation, so he doesn’t mind when you eat slower to rush out some questions. “Herds of them are plentiful around these forests, especially less than a mile north.”
“Oh,” you’ve heard of those deer-like creatures in your research. Knowing that you’re tasting one makes you feel an absurd amount of giddiness. “You seem very knowledgeable about these parts.”
“I am. I’ve lived here for quite a while.”
“But I don’t think there are any tribes or villages nearby,” you are careful to tread lightly. As familial bonds are deeply sacred to the Na’vi, and his isolation is not only deeply baffling and rare, the subject may be a sensitive one. “Do you live here alone?”
But Caleb looks unfettered and merely nods. “Yes.”
You press your lips together in thought, but you have to quickly part them again to take the spoon in your mouth again when he insistently waves it around. It seems like this is all you’re getting out of him today, because by the time your bowl is empty, he’s pushing you to lie back into the hammock.
“Sìltsan,” he coos, brushing a palm over your head as you lay down, “good, good job. Now just go to sleep, yeah? You’ve had a long day.”
You’re too tired to even bristle at his doting— does he seriously think humans are a kind of pet or something?— dozing off under his persistent, gentle pats. You sleep deep enough that you don’t stir when he curls up beside you later.
You learn a few things about Caleb in the next days that pass.
One, being that he’s alarmingly attentive.
You’ve woken up at least 3 times with Caleb’s bright eyes pinned on you in the dark of the night. You at first wondered if he was irritated— did you take too much of the pelt, leaving him chilly? Or were you hogging too much space? You attempted to resolve this by shifting away from him one night, ensuring you don’t brush against him. He didn’t take too much of a liking to that, tugging you close again with his long limbs and nuzzling into your hair. You had squeaked, offput, but said nothing. Perhaps you should’ve, because now these nightly cuddles have become a habit. But you don’t want to complain to your ever-accommodating and considerate host. Maybe he’s just lonely, you think, wide awake in the dark cave as Caleb’s breath brushes your hair, arms heavy around you. And really does see you as some sort of pet. Or comfort object.
And that’s another thing: he’s very much completely alone.
Sure, Na’vi travelling alone for some time isn’t absolutely unheard of, but they always return back to their villages. From what you’ve heard from Caleb, he’s never spoken of any relatives or past tribes. And he speaks a lot.
Not that you’re complaining. Most of it is about any fauna or wildlife he brings back to the cave. You’re always quick to stop him before he can cook everything, inquiring about each thing incessantly. He mirrors your enthusiasm, happily rambling out information like they’re not the greatest gems of knowledge for a scientist like yourself. Sometimes, he loves talking about his flying practices in particular, how he maneuvers his ikran and soars over the clouds. You wish you had a notebook to write these stories down sometimes, so you can show them to…
To who? You huff at yourself. The corpses of those scientists back at the base?
You grimace at your own gruesome thoughts. There’s no telling if anyone survived back there, but there had to be more human bases around, right? Though being a cuddle-buddy to an alien out in the wilderness isn’t the worst fate, you have every intention of exploring the possibility of reuniting with other humans later.
You two manage to develop some semblance of a normal routine over the next few days. By the time you wake, Caleb is back with some early-morning catch, and you sometimes help cook it into breakfast, before loitering around all day trying to chase boredom, through the various efforts Caleb endorses. Escaping from civilization for a bit is fun at first.
The first few days you’re taken with the idea of weaving, spending hours trying to loop some vine around a stick. “It’s kinda like crochet,” you realize, slowly going through the motions that Caleb had previously guided you through— “Upwards, then around, then through,” he had instructed, larger hands cradling yours with a delicacy that made you flush.
Caleb just tilts his head. “What is crochet?”
You tell him, and he listens with endless fascination. That’s another thing about Caleb; he loves listening to you speak, however basic your Na’vi, about human life. You tell him about the plants on Earth, the things you used to eat, hobbies, even the boring stuff like jobs and work and traffic. But he just listens, head propped up in his hand, staring so intently you wonder if he’s even listening or if he’s just staring because he wants to.
But eventually, talking about civilization makes you miss it with each word you blurt. And by the— tenth? or eleventh—day, you’re completely over this little vacation.
“Caleb,” you say, in the middle of him braiding back your hair for bed— you’ve long since given up trying to protest this. “Do you think it’s about time I went back out and explore for other humans? I’ve been here a while.”
His fingers pause against your scalp. “Why?”
You blink. “Well, because…I can’t exactly stay here forever. I’m human.”
His fingers continue their strokes, and his tone is more playful than curt this time. “And why not, huh?”
You’re surprised how much the question catches you off guard. Caleb is harmless, that much is sure, even if the large creatures he drags back after each successful hunt is a bit alarming. And it’s not like you have anyone you’re missing back on base or even on Earth— that’s why you signed up for this job, anyways.
“Because,” you huff stubbornly, ducking your head. “That’s just how it is.”
He finishes your braid without another response. But you still haven’t gotten a clear answer from him.
“So, I’ll probably go back out and search tomorrow.”
“No.”
You frown, twisting back to glance at him over your shoulder. “…no?”
His brows are furrowed, azure cheekbones taut with barely-concealed irritation. “No. There’s no telling how many hostiles are still out there. You could be attacked immediately.”
“But how much longer am I supposed to wait? Have you seen any signs of danger nearby?”
Caleb’s eyes widen, before he quickly averts them, almost guiltily. “Signs, yeah. Footprints and such.”
“Right,” you sigh, disbelieving. “So I should just sit here forever then.”
His face softens, and he reaches out to pinch at your cheek. “Don’t be upset,” he croons. “You’re a fragile human*.* There are many creatures waiting in the wilderness to catch you. I wouldn’t want my yawntutsyìp to be in danger, would I?”
“No,” you respond leniently, and he beams, pleased, tail swishing behind him. “No, you wouldn’t.”
But when Caleb curls up beside you that night, steady pats bewitching you into slumber, you form a plan.
You know his schedule by now; every morning, right before the sun has risen, Caleb gets up to hunt.
You remember it because you stir awake every time you feel the hammock shift beneath you, the loss of his body heat. You usually end up turning over and get right back to dozing off.
But today, you don’t let yourself drift off when you feel Caleb sit up. To fake being asleep, you continue inhaling and exhaling deeply, breaths hissing out of your oxygen mask.
A palm brushes over your head, and then a quiet sniff against your hair. Woah, is this part of his normal morning routine too? It takes everything in you to not flush and turn away. Finally, after a bit more nuzzling than needed, you feel his presence depart.
You wait a few more minutes to just make sure he’s really gone, breath held, body tense, before your eyes slide open. Sure enough, the cave is empty, the dim fluorescent fauna illuminating all crevices and corners and confirming that you’re alone.
As you rise and exit the cave, looking over the darkened forest, you rethink your decisions just a little bit. What exactly was the plan after this? You suppose you should at least get to a high place and see if you can spot any structures down below, or even if some humans can spot you and extract you. You’d explore for a few hours, you decide, until the sun rises. And if you don’t return before Caleb gets back, then you’ll just apologize.
I don’t owe him anything anyways, you think as you weave past trees., trying to feel less guilty. Sure, he saved me and all, but I’ve only known him for a week. It’s not like I’m obligated to stay with him.
The actual outcome is not as easy as you hoped.
Sure, finding and traversing an inclined hill was easy enough— aside from how you end up with raw marks on your skin from sharp thorns, leaves and branches in your hair. Your struggles are for nothing.
Because when you look over the edge, you don’t see any buildings or structures amidst the treetops. No, you only see mist, tinged pink from the sunrise.
It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not mist. It’s clouds. He took you to one of those floating sky islands.
Your stomach tilts with unease. Just how far up are you? How far away did he take you from any other living, sapient being?
You’ll never be able to get back down to civilization without his willingness to help, will you?
Your revelation is broken off by a crack of a branch below you. You whip your head down so fast you’re surprised you don’t roll over.
His chiseled torso is smeared with blood. You know better than to think it’s his own. A carcass is already hiked up over his back.
Caleb. He’s standing there, meters below you, looming on the forest floor, gleaming eyes pinned on you even from this distance. And he looks livid.
Long dark hair frames the sharp edge of his tense jaw, falls just over his furrowed brow. It’s a look you’ve never seen on him. Unhinged, feral.
He just stares. You stare back. You don’t know why you feel the urge to run. This is Caleb. He’s cared for you, saved you. Logically, there’s nowhere you can go. But a more primitive part screams at you to get away.
But this is Caleb. He’d never hurt you.
You run.
There’s nowhere run except down, so you make a mad dash down the hill, the swoop of gravity boosting your speed and sparking a rush of exhilaration in your chest. Those branches are clawing at you, tugging at your clothes as if the planet itself was against you, but you push through, breaking into a clearing. You pause for a moment, turning and looking at all possible directions. Before you can decide where to go, you hear the padding of large footsteps on the muddy ground.
It seems you may have become his next hunt.
You panic, turning just in time to try and spring the other direction. But, like the skilled hunter he is, he’s already directly behind you. A hand clasps around your arm, tugging you so that you’re flush against his large body. You wail in discomfort as the glass of your mask is forced against his blood-stained abs, before he’s hauling you off the ground. You shriek, limbs thrashing until he traps them between your bodies, subduing your struggles entirely, and easily begins walking.
“C-Caleb,” you cry, his arms crushed too tight around you, like a deadly snake. “Caleb!”
He shushes you sharply, arms tightening possessively around you. You let out a strained sound in protest.
His feet stop abruptly, and you startle at the sound of another voice.
“What do we have here?”
Caleb physically tenses against you. You wish you could twist around, see who has appeared behind you, but the apprehensiveness radiating off Caleb keeps you obediently still.
Maybe Caleb was just using a very basic dialect of Na’vi with you, because when he speaks to this unknown stranger, you find you can barely understand a full sentence. As they exchange words, you only understand a few phrases; “live nearby” and “friendly” and “mate.”
Mate?
The stranger’s tone darkens, deepening into one that almost seems like he’s lecturing or berating Caleb for something. You make a quiet sound of fear, half expecting to hear the sound of a bow being drawn in your direction— the clamor of the attack on your base still wracks in your head like warning bells.
The conversation quiets at your noise, as if both Na’vi are observing you. Then the stranger barks out a final order, “get going then.”
You feel Caleb continue walking, this time with more urgency.
You’re silent on the way back. When he sets you down on that damn hammock again, you want nothing more than to bury your face somewhere, stomach in knots.
He’s silent, too, uncharacteristically so, as he sets his bow and hunt away and kneels down in front of you. He keeps his gaze fixed stubbornly to your scraped knees, rubbing salve on every tiny nick.
You don’t think you can take the carefully neutral look on his face, the way his eyes avoid yours. “Caleb,” your voice cracks on the syllables. He doesn’t regard you, staying intent on his work.
You tear off the oxygen mask with a hiss, freeing your sight of the murky glass, and swallow painfully. “Caleb. I-I’m sorry, okay? I just thought I’d be able to get rescued by some humans— Caleb,” you cry when he dips his lead lower, brown strands shielding his face. His incredibly tall body, now shriveled up, hunched over till he’s short enough to avoid your eye.
“You know what that Na’vi wanted back there?” he grits out, and you freeze at the sound of his voice. You’ve never heard it this dark; it’s worrying. “He saw you and questioned your presence. He wasn’t part of those hostiles, but the Na’vi know. They all know the intent of most humans who come here, so they assume the worst of every one of them. If he found you before I did…”
His cadence dips. His back shudders as he heaves a shaky breath, blue skin rippling with muscle. Your body reacts before your brain can think, and you’re brushing his hair away from his face, reaching down to cup his face.
“I know, I’m sorry, okay?”
He melts. Violet hues finally raise, wide and shiny. When they flit around and land on yours, his pupils slowly expand, swallowing the irises like a black hole.
“Why did you leave?”
“Because…I have to go back to civilization. It’s not like I can live in the wilderness forever.”
“Why do you want to go back?” Caleb shakes his head, lips trembling. “You’re not like those humans, who just want to conquer and destroy. You can’t truly be happy there. It’s selfish of me, but…” a large palm cups your cheek, stroking your bare skin reverently. “I want you by my side.”
Your lips part in surprise at his declaration. Your heart squeezes— because you know it’s the truth. Just coming to terms on what the company you had worked for was doing, and witnessing the sheer massacre they were willing to provoke from the natives, the countless employees they sacrificed for a greedy and entitled cause was hard enough, but Caleb laid it all out for you. Living with a Na’vi in just this short amount of time showed you what could have been lost because of a human conquest— the tradition and livelihood, sure, but the smaller things, like breakfasts, homemade salves, woven hammocks. What are your options if you return to civilization? It’s either on an overpopulated, dying Earth, or supporting a cause that will destroy the things you’ll come to love.
You feel lightheaded, not just from the heavy, foreign air, but from your heavy thoughts as well. But you don’t slip on the mask if it means it’ll ruin how his skin brushes yours.
Thankfully, Caleb doesn’t seem to expect a response right away just yet, standing to perch beside you. You steal some breaths of oxygen but ultimately keep the mask off, refusing to put any barriers between you two again. He stays close, tail flicking anxiously behind him.
“Did I…scare you back there? Why’d you run?”
“A little, I mean, I guess the sight of you angry and covered in blood was a bit off-putting.” You admit sheepishly.
Caleb laughs, hanging his head, pretty smile softening his features. You can’t help but laugh with him.
“I’m sorry. I just sensed another Na’vi nearby and knew I had to get to you. You’re not hurt anywhere else, right?”
You shake your head, but he frowns, leaning in closer. “But wait, your face…”
“Oh,” you realize, reaching up to feel a few small nicks. “Just some branches scratched me up a bit. No big deal.”
But he leans even closer, until you’re gasping, quickly leaning back so your noses don’t brush. “You need to be more careful,” he breathes, brows still drawn together. He cups your face with both hands, an expression of fretfulness flashing across his features that was so intense it was almost comical— though you held your laugh, not wanting to make fun of his concern.
“Poor thing, your face is all cut up,” Caleb practically whines, thumbs darting to brush every mark. Your cheeks heat under his touch.
“Please, it’s not that bad—”
“Shh,” his nose brushes yours, and he simply caresses your face for a few moments, as if his touch alone could heal you.
“Caleb,” you murmur, muffled by the way he smushes your cheeks slightly.
“Hmm?”
“What all did that man say back there?”
“Oh,” his eyes lowered, a purplish hue staining his cheekbones— is he blushing? “Like I said, he’s a head of a tribe nearby and was just patrolling around their territory. When he saw me with a human…well, he was naturally just appalled. But it’s okay! I just let him know that you were friendly to Na’vi, harmless, and my mate.”
“What?’
“Not that you are,” Caleb blurts, backtracking. “Or that you aren’t. Well, I mean, I had to defend you somehow. But he was obviously taken aback, saying how it’s against Eywa. But…I’ve never been too firm of a believer in that, have I?”
His tone dips to a more sultry one that makes your heart pound. “He says it’s against nature. That something interspecies wouldn’t benefit Awaang. But…” his hand slides down your arm sensually, sending goosebumps in his wake, “I haven’t been much for following the norm, or what’s seen as right.”
Caleb’s lips are a breath away. Your heart pounds. “I’ve never desired anything as much as I’ve desired you,” he pants raggedly, before crushing his lips to yours.
You melt immediately, hands tangling in his long locks and tugging, and he whines against your lips, suckling and biting. Caleb’s kisses aren’t gentle or perfect; they’re eager and sloppy. He licks into your mouth and pushes you onto your back, hulking body enveloping you entirely, shielding your arching and squirming body from the world.
“I’ve never asked for anything, except for you,” he rasps, before sealing the words with a rough kiss,“Eywa couldn’t possibly deny my only request, right?
You squeak against his mouth as he ravages your lips, struggling to keep up with his hunger with your own meek kisses. He finally breaks away with a last wet smooch, glossy lips parting, drool smudged down the corner of them.
“Caleb,” you wheeze quietly, and he’s scrambling to press the oxygen mask to your face, concern bleeding past his arousal.
“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, can you breath?” Caleb rushes, biting his swollen lip as you take deep, hissing breaths. “I’m so sorry, I did it for too long, I’m sorry,” he gasps again, leaning back off of you to give you some space. You’re not having any of that.
Once you’ve taken a few deep breaths, you’re tossing the mask aside and kissing him again.
Caleb whimpers like he’s in heaven, sagging back over you, pecking and licking at the seam of your lips. He’s gentle at first, as if still concerned about your respiration, but he quickly loses himself, his hunger growing by the second. It seems like he’s taken advantage of the opportunity to pick up exploring your anatomy again from that first day he met you, hands eagerly bunching up your shirt just past your ribs, slipping under to squeeze your tits until you arch and mewl. His other hand wastes no time in sliding down, slipping under your pants to caress your bare thigh, claws tantalizingly close to nicking your soft skin.
When he takes your bottom lips between his sharp teeth and sucks, you can’t repress a quiet moan. The sound makes him harden against you—you can feel the press of it from where it presses against your thigh, and it feels huge.
When Caleb breaks apart again, a string of saliva pulls taught until it snaps, and he wipes it away with a swipe of his thumb. Gently, he rubs the glass of the oxygen mask clean, before securing it back over your face.
His calm actions are at odds with the pained look on his face; you twitch needily at the expression of longing, in his furrowed brow and parted lips.
“Fuck, yawne,” he pants, sitting up to reach for the loincloth around his waist. “Please, need you so bad, please please—”
“Yes,” you gasp, pushing off your already-strewn clothes—first, you kick off your pants and panties, before lifting your shirt and bra off and tossing it aside. Caleb watches the unfamiliar clothing with enrapturement, glowing eyes particularly caught on your discarded panties. His long fingers grasp the cloth, brushing it reverently.
He’s shoving off his loincloth with the other hand, and you are not prepared for the sight of his cock; it bobs up immediately, smacking against his blue abdomen, and it is large. The size of your forearm, almost? Your thighs clench with arousal at the thought.
Caleb groans, brushing the head of his leaky tip with his thumb, before beginning to jerk himself off right in front of you. His bright eyes are pinned to you, raving over your human anatomy, and his abs clench deliciously as he tries not to cum immediately.
Your face heats, and you squirm underneath his heady stare, pussy clenching around nothing. “Please, pretty,” he begs sweetly, scooting a bit closer. “Just need to get myself ready for you, I’m so hard. Need your spit.”
You stare blankly, quietly shocked at his lewd words. “Your spit, hahh,” he clarifies, head rolling back in pleasure, till he’s staring through half-lidded eyes. “Please spit on me.”
You snap out of your daze, leaning your face forward towards his cock. It twitches, a zap of pleasure shooting through it just from your attention alone. You purse your lips and let a wad of pearly saliva land right on his leaky tip and slide down his shaft, highlighting every thick vein in it’s wake.
“Nghh, fuck,” he almost sobs, quiet schlicks from his cock as he begins to pump it with your spit as lube. “Thank you, thank you.”
You’ve never been more soaked in your life. “Caleb,” you wail, shifting your thighs apart eagerly to reveal your swollen pussy, throbbing with need. He gapes at the sight of it, awe and thirst settling on his face now. “Please just put it in. Need you.”
You know he can’t resist. He melts almost immediately, throbbing cock forgotten, settling his massive form between your thighs. He presses his face between them, hesitantly kissing the glossy folds like he’s worshipping at an altar.
You twitch, letting out a keening sound. “I know,” he cooes, brow scrunched as he nuzzles his nose against your thigh. “I just don’t know if I’ll fit, yawntutsyìp. Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“Just put it in, fuck, need it—”
Caleb is nothing if not attentive to you.
Pulling back, he lines himself up, tip just nestled against your hole. He pushes in slowly, making your pussy squelch, walls fluttering so hard immediately it almost pushes him back out. Caleb’s jaw tenses as he tries to go slow, hips twitching eagerly and making his tip slipping in with a pop.
“Ngh, ohmygod,” you squeak, tight ring of muscle burning deliciously at the stretch. You buck your hips for more involuntarily, to which Caleb pins them down firmly with a single hand to your stomach—which only serves to press down against his tip bulging inside you, the pressure making your feet kick out in pleasure.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb rushes, but he doesn’t move his hand, ears pinned back and flushed. He only pushes his hips forward, feeding you inches and inches of his long cock until it presses deep past your gooey walls, poking directly into a bundle of nerves in you. His palm can feel his hard dick in you through your stomach, and just the thought has him spurting precum in you.
“Don’t you dare stop,” you pant before he can start apologizing again, chest heaving as you try to accommodate his size. Caleb’s eyes drop from your face to your alluring tits at that, and he’s dazedly leaning down before he even knows what he’s doing, taking a bud into his mouth eagerly.
“Cay,” you mewl, hands pushing and smacking at his abs, begging him to start moving and relieve you of the pressure. Finally, he blinks away the fog of arousal, maw unhinged against your breast, drooling on your tit as he begins thrusting.
He pumps slow and deep, tip ramming steadily against your g-spot. “You feel so good, can’t believe you can take me so well—” he rambles against your chest, ragged breathes brushing your hardening nipples.
Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clicking with each thrust and leaking all the way down his shaft, until it’s slathered in a creamy mess. Caleb finally lifts his head to look down at the sight, where blue meets brown, Na’vi meets human, where two worlds collide into lewd, forbidden pleasure.
His hips quicken at the sight, until he’s pounding into you, desperately chasing that pleasure again and again. You mewl with every thrust, cunt spasming around his shaft, wringing a pained groan out of him. Your thighs quiver, jerking every time his pelvis smacks against them wetly, the skin pinkened and raw.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m yours, don’t ever leave me,” Caleb blurts, and he feels your stomach spasm underneath his palm in pleasure. You nod drunkenly, lips parted.
“Hahh, yes Caleb, need you so bad!” You hiccup, not exactly aware of what you’re affirming, but his tail swings happily behind him all the same at the agreement.
“Ah, nghh,” his jaw drops again when you clench around his shaft; you swear he’s sheathed in so deep that he’s pressing up against your guts. It’s so full, combined with how his large palm presses your tummy down firmly. “That’s it, my perfect mate,” he grits out, eyes feral and wide with the need to fill you up.
You whine out when he shoves himself a fraction deeper, his leaky tip kissing into your cervix, brute size bruising your walls up. His cock presses up against every nerve ending, making you tense up with pleasure, thighs locked and toes curled.
“I’m gonna cum,” you squeal out, fists curling against his large pecs. “Please—please!”
Caleb doesn’t stop, hips pumping with an exactness that has you seeing starts. “Yeahh, cum all over my cock,” he begs, expression crumbling prettily as he nears his own release. “Let Ca’leb fill you up, please—”
You gush around his shaft with a squeal, pussy clenching down hard when you cum, your smaller feet kicking and curling against the hammock as shocks of pleasure rack through you. Caleb cums immediately at the sensation, and like the rest of him, his load is huge— it doesn’t all fit in your tiny stomach, leaking steadily out of your messy cunt.
Caleb doesn’t even pull out when he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush your body. You don’t complain, heartbeat pounding in your ears as the rush fades, leaving you satiated and sleepy.
You both lay there exhausted for who knows how long, before Caleb suddenly lifts his head from your chest, blinking at you.
“I forgot to make and feed you breakfast. You must be hungry.”
“Mmm, no, Caleb. Not hungry.”
“But you can’t sleep if I haven’t braided your hair,” he complains quietly, frowning. “Then I won’t be taking care of you properly.”
“Trust me, you’ve taken care of enough,” you huff, turning over to nestle your face into his chest.
You’re both content to lay there, instead of going on with your usual schedule. You, because you have a place that feels like home now, doze off as you nuzzle into the hammock. And Caleb, because he finally has someone who belongs to him, sighs as he nuzzles into your hair.
I promised to post page 2 (the backshots page) if page 1 got 1000 likes on Twitter. So uh ... go like it if you wanna see that (/ω＼) though, the coloured versions are already up on my Patreon 👀
gamechangershow
tangentwithtanner
dailybridgerton
