The hospital room is quiet, just the beeping of machines and your newborn daughter’s soft coos. You’re exhausted but glowing, cradling her in your arms when the door bursts open—BANG.
“Where is she?!” your oldest demands, chest puffed out like a tiny soldier. Behind him, the middle one is practically bouncing off the walls, and the youngest is holding Caleb’s giant hand, peeking around his dad’s leg with wide purple eyes. Caleb gives you a sheepish grin. “They insisted.”
You barely get the chance to answer before the three boys scramble to your bedside, climbing onto stools and chairs to crowd around you. The middle one gasps so loud it’s comical. “She’s so small!”
“She’s tinier than my action figure,” the youngest whispers in awe, reaching out a chubby hand but pulling it back nervously. Your oldest furrows his little brows, arms crossed like Caleb, studying the bundle in your arms. “We have to protect her. No matter what.” He says it with such gravity you swear he’s thirty years older than he is.
Caleb smothers a laugh into his fist. “Mini me number one, reporting for duty already.” You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling. “Do you boys want to say hello?”
They all nod eagerly. One by one, you lower their sister close enough for them to see her tiny face. The middle one immediately melts. “She’s so pretty… like Mommy.” That makes Caleb choke so hard he has to cough into his elbow, eyes going glassy.
The youngest, after a moment of hesitation, leans close and whispers, “Hi baby. I’m your big brother. Don’t worry, we’ll share snacks.” He looks up at you proudly. “See? I’ll be a good brother.” And the oldest, dead serious, places a hand gently on his baby sister’s blanket. “If anyone hurts you, they answer to me first. Then Dad.”
Caleb drops to one knee right there, clutching his chest like he’s been shot. “Pipsqueak… they’re… they’re perfect.” You laugh through tears, hugging your little army of boys closer. Your baby girl sighs in her sleep, completely unaware she’s just been sworn in under the fiercest protection squad in the galaxy.
I haven't been active the last couple of weeks due to life changes (they're good, I promise! I'm moving to my own space!) AND unfortunately, issues related to my health.
I was recently diagnosed with dysautonomia and have been in a weird head space, doing my best to manage symptoms all while balancing my job and hobbies.
with that being said, i'm opening up writing commissions to help offset some of my medical costs. whether it’s commissioning a fic, reblogging this post, or sending feedback, I appreciate the little following i've grown on this blog.
You hear Xavier return from his mission, his footsteps silent against the floor. You quickly whisper, “Stay quiet,” to an imaginary person and scramble away from the closet just as he enters.
His gaze locks onto you immediately, eyes narrowing slightly. Without a word, he scans the room. He crosses to the closet first, sliding it open in one swift motion. Finding nothing, he moves to check under the bed, then behind the curtains.
“Xavier, what are you doing?” you ask innocently.
He doesn’t answer, continuing his search. He checks inside cabinets barely large enough for a child, peers over the balcony, and even lifts the mattress from your bed frame.
The silence grows heavier as he inspects the bathroom, opening the shower curtain with unexpected force. He returns to the living area, crouching to look under furniture too small for anyone to hide beneath.
When he finally faces you again, his expression hasn’t changed, but something in his eyes has shifted— dangerous gleam that wasn’t there before.
“Who were you speaking to?” he asks.
“No one,” you smile. “because I was just messing with you.”
He studies you for a long moment before stepping closer. Then he pulls you against his chest, holding you there as if to reassure himself that you’re still his. You feel him inhale deeply, taking in your scent, confirming you’re alone, that no one else has been here.
𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄
“Quick, hide!” you whisper dramatically to the empty space beside you as Zayne’s key turns in the lock. You’re sprawled suspiciously in front of the couch when he enters, medical bag in hand.
He pauses in the doorway, eyes flicking from your awkward position to the seemingly empty room. One eyebrow arches perfectly.
“Care to explain why you’re blocking the couch like it’s harboring a fugitive?” he asks, setting his bag down.
“No reason,” you reply, too quickly.
He looks around the room from where he’s standing, checking behind curtains and under tables. He then approaches you in the living room, studying your face intently. “Your pulse is elevated,” he notes, suddenly holding your hand, his expression hardening slightly.
“You realize I can tell when someone’s been in our space,” he kneels before you. His thumbs trace small circles on your wrists, measuring your pulse. “Whatever you’re hiding, whoever you’re protecting... tell me. I won’t judge, but I need to know.”
The concern in his eyes makes you instantly regret your prank. “There’s no one,” you admit. “I was just playing around.”
Relief flashes across his face before he composes himself. “That was...” he starts, then pulls you close instead of finishing his sentence. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.
“Don’t worry me like that again,” he whispers against your hair.
𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋
“Don’t worry, he won’t find you,” you whisper loudly, diving away from the bathroom door just as Rafayel enters your apartment.
His head snaps toward you. “Who are you talking to?” he demands, eyes narrowing dangerously.
“No one,” you say innocently.
“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, stalking toward the bathroom. “Who’s in there? Who are you hiding?”
He throws the door open, finding nothing but empty space. His search grows increasingly frantic, tossing cushions aside, yanking open cabinets. He pulls the shower curtain so hard it partially tears from its rings.
“You’re not seriously hiding anything from me, right? Right?” He overturns a basket of laundry. “I’ll find them, and when I do—”
He pauses, noticing something on the balcony, and rushes outside. Finding nothing, he returns, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
“I know someone’s here,” he insists, checking under the bed for the third time. “I can feel it. You’re acting strange.”
“Rafayel, there’s no one here,” you interrupt, fighting laughter.
He freezes mid-search, turning slowly. “Really...?”
“Just a joke,” you explain, holding up a peace sign.
His expression morphs through confusion, relief, and finally settles on outrage. “Ha, ha, of course, you wouldn’t hide anything from me,” he grumbles before pulling you close. “You scared me. I thought someone was trying to take you away.”
He won’t tell you that he was so ready to burn that person down and throw their ashes in the ocean.
𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒
“Stay hidden,” you whisper conspiratorially to the empty closet, hearing Sylus’s approach. You barely make it to the couch before he enters, his presence filling the room instantly.
His eyes find yours. “Interesting greeting,” he remarks smoothly, closing the door behind him with deliberate slowness.
You feign innocence, but his smile only widens. Without warning, objects around you begin to rise—books, vases, furniture—suspended by his Evol.
“I do enjoy games,” he says softly as the apartment dismantles itself around you, every hiding spot exposed. “But not ones where you keep secrets from me.”
The lamp drifts toward the ceiling. The couch levitates six inches off the floor. Every drawer in every piece of furniture slides open simultaneously.
“Whoever you’re hiding must be exceptionally small,” he observes, watching a teacup rotate slowly in midair. “Or perhaps exceptionally foolish to think they can escape from me.”
When his search reveals nothing, he steps closer, the items still floating ominously around the room. He lifts your chin with one finger, examining your expression.
He cups your face with gentleness despite his current passive-aggressive demeanor. “You do realize Mephisto can see everything, right?” The mechanical crow suddenly caws from your balcony. Since when did he get here?
“It’s no one! Promise!” you protest. “Can you put my stuff back down now?”
He deliberately lets everything settle back perfectly into place. Not a single item out of position.
“I was about to compliment your hide-and-seek game, kitten,” he pulled you close against him. “Should I say I won this round?”
𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁
“He’s coming! Hide!” you whisper loudly to no one, diving behind the couch just as Caleb enters.
His smile vanishes instantly. “Who’s here?” he demands, voice shifting to his command tone.
Before you can answer, he’s moving through the apartment, checking every possible hiding place. “Come out now, and I might let you leave intact,” he calls out, voice dangerously calm.
You watch in amazement as he systematically tears apart the apartment, looking increasingly agitated when he finds nothing. He flips the coffee table, checks behind the curtains, and yanks open every cabinet door.
“I know you’re here somewhere,” he announces to the empty room, frustration building in his voice. He moves to the bedroom next, and you hear drawers being opened and closed with increasing force. When he returns, his expression has hardened completely.
“Where are they?” His eyes scan the room once more, calculating, planning. “I’ll tear this place apart if I have to. They can’t hide forever.”
“Caleb, there’s no one here,” you finally admit. “It was just a joke.”
His expression freezes, processing this information. The dangerous aura recedes slightly.
“Yeah, yeah, very funny, Pipsqueak. You really do know how to make people worry,” he says sarcastically, trapping you in his arms. His hold is tight, possessive, as he caresses your hair. There’s no doubt about just how seriously he takes any threat to what belongs to him—you.
I just saw a reel about this TikTok prank, and it made me want to write it down for them 😹
needy!caleb is definitely just caleb all the time. especially when he comes home after being gone for too long, the absolute best... how he gets on his knees and nuzzles his head into your lower stomach, breathing in your scent & gripping your ass. he'd whimper lightly into the cloth of your shirt, almost to the brink of tears from how much he missed you.
"god, baby, you smell so fucking good." he'd mumble, eyes squeezed shut and nostrils flared with the force of his inhales.
if you told him you wanted to move, he'd simply tilt his head slightly up to look at you, giving you a warning glare. but if you suggested to move to the bed to properly cuddle, thats a whole different story. he'd jump right up to his feet and practically run to the bed, taking you along with him when he leaps on the mattress. he'll force you into a laying position before nudging his nose deep onto your chest, moaning into your breasts.
"i need you so bad, pips, please. pleasepleaseplease..." he whimpers, dragging a hand to your boobs to toy with your nipples.
it doesnt take long until he's balls deep inside your cunt, sprawled on top of you. he can't control himself anymore, every thrust comes a sob and more tears begin to form. he's so overstimulated but so happy to be enveloped in your sweet warmth again; a lazy smile plastered onto his face. he's actually quite a beautiful sight to see if you were able to see him... maybe if you werent so drunk on his cock you'd have the luxury of witnessing him all blissed out. regardless, the feeling of his drool-filled tongue on your shoulder blade accompanied by his incoherent mumbles are juuuust enough to send you over the edge once again; the feeling of your pussy squeezing him milking his cock for what feels like the 100th time. all he can do is bawl and beg for it to not happen, a string of 'nononono's coming out of his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop his body from cumming.. it's just sooo painful to his poor abused member:(((
the night would inevitably end with you and him sleeping together (still connected) in a bed soaked with lots more than one bodily fluid... just how caleb likes it.
here is the full fic for everyone who wanted it! (you can read the trailer here)
thinking about caleb’s first time with mc… 18+ mdni. wc; 2.1k
-
when caleb sinks into you for the first time, he thinks he’s in fucking heaven with the way you fluttered around him and your voice called his name.
one thing lead to another, and now you’re almost naked on his couch, taking his dick like all of the times he’d dreamed. except this is so much better than his fist, or the stupid fleshlight he bought all of those years ago. now, he can finally stop pretending.
fuck, teenage caleb would be losing his mind right now. current caleb is losing his mind.
he can stop pretending his fist is yours instead, that the damn, cold fleshlight is your cunt, that all those girls he fucked during high school was you.
now he finally has you all to himself, and there’s no way in hell he’ll ever let you go.
“o-oh, pipsqueak,” he moans, and loudly. his head helplessly falls into the crook of your neck, taking in that familiar, vanilla scent. the same scent that he’s been yearning for god knows how long. the same scent that tells his mind ‘relax, you’re home.’
you are his home.
your hands wrap around him. one of them hide in his hair, deliciously scratching his scalp as you other one drags your nails down his back. he fucking whimpers into your neck, planting a kiss onto your skin because what else can he do? normally so strong for you, he’s been reduced to nothing but a lovesick, pussy drunk fool.
caleb gets in his head, thinking you must think he’s absolutely pathetic for being like this. but honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.
the hero of your childhood, the big, strong man you always knew, a deepspace pilot reduced to a needy, lovelorn puddle! how romantic; what a dream come true.
so when he bottoms out, he’s trembling like a madman. it’s taking every ounce of his self control not to grab your waist and absolutely ruin you, dick slamming into your cunt like he desperately aches to. but he can’t do that. not to his precious pipsqueak - not to the girl that’s finally under him after all these years of pining.
not yet, at least.
he gives you a second to adjust, like the thoughtful man he is. “doin’ okay?” he whispers softly, pulling his face away from your neck, eyes flitting over your face, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. one of his hands come up and cups your cheek, touching so tenderly, like you might break. he treats you like you’re made of porcelain, as if you’ll shatter if he’s too rough.
your eyes are closed, jaw slack as you breathed through your mouth. caleb’s eyes are fixated on your lips, the one’s he’d seen wrapped around his cock so many time is his dreams.
he could feel himself twitch just at the thought. not now, caleb, that’s for another day.
“mhmm,” you hummed, delightful voice like music to his ears. your lids fluttered open, seeing him already staring down at you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen his gaze so loving before, hearts bouncing around his eyes like the dvd logo on a black screen.
truth is, he’s had heart eyes for you for as long as he can remember. caleb looks at you like you’ve hung the fucking moon and embroidered stars into the sky, but you’ve just been too fucking blind to see it. it drove him beyond crazy. still, he knew you’d find out one day—one day you’ll realize how much love he harbours for you. that day is finally here, and he couldn’t be happier.
slowly, cautiously, he pulls out all the way, puckering hole unhappily releasing with with a pop! before he pushes back in. his face helplessly falls back into the crook of your neck as you mewled into his ear, cock deliciously stretching you open.
“mmf-aah,” his mouth falls open against your skin, hot breath panting against your neck. he whimpers like a virgin, arms shaking around your head as he practices his self control. “better than i fucking dreamed, baby.”
“caleb!” he thinks he’s never heard your voice so high pitched.
he cradles your head in his arms, lips planting open mouthed kisses on your pulse point. it’s the perfect spot for him to moan into your ear while also taking in your scent, the natural one under your perfume. one of his thumbs trace the shell of your ear as he continued his slow, shallow thrusts.
“ca- nngh, caleb,” you keen, and he swears to god your throbbing around him. “hah, harder!”
“don’t wanna hurt you, pips…” he lets himself go deeper with a groan, the syrupy slick of your arousal dipping down the rest of his length. he wants to be careful, wants to take his sweet time with you. but when he feels his mushroom head kiss your cervix, all former resolve goes out the window.
“please?” you hand in his hair tugged every so slightly, manicured nails scratching delectably.
oh. he couldn’t say no to that. he could never say no to you. what type of jerk would he be if he denies his beloved pipsqueak? not him. no one would ever catch him disappointing you—never in a million years.
he obeys without a word, a hand coming down to your waist. he’ll ease you into it, he decides. he can’t just started slamming his cock into you as much as he wants to. that wouldn’t be nice of him.
bit by bit, his tempo increases. in music terms, he’s going adante. he doesn’t even notice when he starts bitching and whining louder than you. he can’t hear himself either; he’s too enamoured by the way you’ll call his name as your cunt quivers. strings of your name along with noises and mumbles of praise leave him, muffled by the skin of your neck.
“squeezing so good,”
“shit, you’re unreal.”
“mmmh, pipsqueak, fuck!”
he starts kissing your neck again, balls slapping onto the flesh of your ass as he thrusts into you. the only thing occupying his mind was you. your sounds, scent, taste, feel—his mind was screaming at him, ‘mine, mine, all mine!’
his little pecks turn into kitten licks, then into sucking and biting at the skin. he’ll suckle on your skin, bruising it, leaving his mark before he bites. then, caleb licks it over as an apology before moving an inch over and repeating.
soon, the left side of your neck is covered in his dark purple love bites. you’ll need a shit ton of colour corrector and concealer to cover it up, but that’s a problem you’re not even aware of yet.
his hips snap into yours earnestly, tip of his cock crashing against your cervix.
it hurts so good!
he pulls back from your neck, admiring his art before his eyes flick to your face. your eyes are closed, blissfully fucked out expression as he pleasured you. he smiles, leaning down to sweetly kiss your lips, biting your bottom lip teasingly before he shoves his tongue into your mouth.
you stay like that for a while, getting fucked on the couch by your childhood best friend. your head is propped up against the arm rest, one leg dangling off the edge as the other one is propped against his waist, opening up your hips so he could jam his into yours. caleb is going feral, but he doesn’t let it show. ever the considerate one. he grins against your lips, almost laughs as he devours your sounds, swallowing them up. he thinks back to high school, to all the times he could be making love to you instead of those other sluts.
then a thought crosses his mind—how many guys had you been with? how many others had you let into you like this, at your most vulnerable?
it makes caleb upset—it disturbs him to no end. it gets to the point where he’s speeding up his pace, gaining more momentum the more he thinks about it. moderato, allegro, presto, then prestissimo! he’s going faster than you could even imagine and it makes you dizzy with lust.
lewd, nasty sounds of skin slapping skin and mixed moans from both of you fill the living room.
“caleb, o-oh! there!”
“a-aah, shit, baby!”
your back arches as he repeatedly rams into that sweet, spongy spot. eyes screwed shut as both you hands scratch his back, nails dragging down his rippling muscles. if you pressed any harder, you might’ve drawn blood.
one of your hands trails down your body, quickly finding your neglected clit. you started rubbing quick, tight circles, wanting that extra push to get to your long awaited release.
no, not on his watch! that’s his job, caleb decides, swatting your hand away and replacing it with his own. you happily whined into his lips, voice turning up at the end. his fingers felt so much better than yours, you think you’d never be able to recreate the feeling.
“o-ooh, you’re pulsing!” he chimes, pulling back from your lips. he looks down, watching as he disappears into you. the sight has him in a chokehold.
he sits up, still ramming into you. he takes his hand away from your clit temporarily, earning a displeased whine from you, so he can angle your hips to go deeper.
his fingers return to your nub, playfully pinching it before his thumb starts rubbing again. his free hand goes to that little bulge on your lower stomach, pressing down. caleb can feel himself through your flesh, feel himself rutting in and out of you. “gonna come, pipsqueak? h-hah, oh p-please do, you feel so good, please please please,” he’s rambling. he’s so far gone. stupid, pussy drunk fool.
a brief thought flashes across his mind—baby trapping you.
that would be awful, caleb, don’t do that! but he doesn’t want you to ever leave him. it would be terrible for your career too, being a hunter and all.
but how else is he supposed to ensure your safety? he can’t sleep at night when you’re out, never knowing what kind of monster you’re fighting and what type of horrible injuries you could be dealing with. this would be perfect, his pipsqueak staying home all day as she grew their child inside of her. and then soon, a little version of his beloved pipsqueak would be running around!
he’s not actually going to do it. he’s not actually going to baby trap you.
“caleb!” his eyes snap to yours. he didn’t even realize he was staring at the spot where you two connected. “so- a-ahh, ‘m so close! keep going!”
he planned on doing exactly that. “whatever you say, baby,”
he’s too far away for you to grab, so your hands instinctively come down to your tits. you groped and grabbed, squeezing them together as you pinched and rolled your hardened nipples under your nimble fingers.
caleb and his perverted gaze could help but watch. mesmerized as he wished it was own hands instead. but his hands didn’t father, still pressing on your lower belly and caressing your swollen pearl like his life depends on it.
he throws your leg over his shoulder, tilting his head to place a brief kiss on your ankle as your body quivers and shakes, rope in your stomach hanging in by a thread.
“gonna- mmf! gon’ come!” you moaned, lip quickly catching under your teeth as it happened just a second later. “c-coming!”
“i know, pips,” caleb drunkenly grins, watching as his girl comes undone under him, around him. his rubbing on your clit doesn’t slow, his own lip catching under his teeth as he hungrily watches you ride out the shockwaves of your high.
shit! he doesn’t have time to pull out before he’s spilling into you, eyes wide as his jaw grows slack, mouth open as his own string of curses and moans escape him. and once more, he’s louder than you.
“shit shit shit,” he cusses under his breath, quickly coming to his senses once he comes down from his own high. the twisted part of him feels how’d he came in you, but he knows that now it’s happened, it won’t stop. “i’m sorry pipsqueak. fuck! i didn’t mean for that to happen-“
much to his dismay, you laugh. you fucking laugh at him.
“it’s okay,” you say softly, after you’ve calmed down and your breathing has slowed. “it’s okay.”
“really?” he thinks he might’ve just baby trapped you. he wants to feel bad, he really does! …but he just can’t bring himself to.
“yeah.” you smile up at him. you’re on birth control, he just doesn’t know yet.
but in that moment, caleb thinks he’s seen an angel. an absolute goddess, are his. his goddess. he leans down, wrapping his hands around your waist as his thickness softens in you. his face naturally finds its place in your neck again, peppering kisses all over your sweet, sweaty skin.
this is the first of many, many other firsts, he thinks.
Ah I think lalunanymph blocked my main acc 🙏😭 I can't search up her fics no more. It's not that active I guess that's why, since I mainly use this sideblog. Oh well.
Anyways back to our regular Caleb drawings I'm about to finish my recent comic chapter!!
hiii :3 ! can i request a silly smut where the lads guys have the readers legs over their shoulders rearranging her guts then reader starts feeling a lil mischievous and grabs the guys hair with her toes (i hope i worded that properly, i thought about it the other day and ive been giggling about it ever since)
A/n: hehe I love this 😂
Cw: FEET 🦶, Nsfw smut, unconventional use of toes, this is disgusting I’m sorry (I’m not into feet), if you like Rafayel then brace yourself, i didn’t know what to write for Xavier other than that he’d prolly like it 😭 YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
Caleb 🍎
Caleb is absolutely raw dogging you right now—your thighs thrown over his shoulders, in a mating press as he mercilessly pounds your gummy, cum filled hole. He’s been like this for hours, and you definitely can’t say you haven’t been enjoying it—he’s made you cum like, five times, and you’re feeling a little delirious.
“H-hey Caleeebbb—” your words are a skewed moan from the unrelenting pistoning of his hips.
“Yeah baby? You like this?” He grunts softly into your neck.
“Lookie..” your words slur again. His thrusting slows ever so slightly, and he watches you weakly wiggle your foot, before stroking his scalp with your toes. You clench your muscles, making them latch onto his messed up dark hair. Caleb laughs.
“Yeah, wanna play around Pipsqueak?” He returns to destroying your wet cunt, making you mewl and moan. The Colonel is absolutely used to your antics by now—he’s absolutely unbothered.
Sylus 🐦⬛
Sylus is lazily rubbing his dick against the wet slick of your cunt, his red eyes looking at you with a teasing yet adoring gaze. “Ready Sweetie?” He kisses your cheek. Your thighs are over his shoulders, marred with hickeys: a declaration of his devotion to you.
“Sy—!” You moan as he pushed in.
20 minutes of being fucked into a blissful state, the mushy fragments of your mind get an idea—you wiggle your feet, and managed to make your toes touch his hair, giving the white strands a tiny tug.
Sylus paused, and looked at you. “What was that?”
“M’ toes.” You giggle, practically delirious.
“Mn.” He murmurs, before grinning.
His thrusts become ravenous after that—totally into whatever you give him.
Rafayel 🐠
He’s pounding into you, whimpering and whining how badly he needs you. “Ngh—so good baby—m’ sorry—need you—”
Your beloved fishy is somewhat manic, crazily pounding away at your frothy hole—he’s already come three times and it still wasn’t enough. You moan into his chest, shifting your knee so your toes grab onto his purple curls. The Lemurian moaned lewdly, grabbing your foot and taking your toes into his mouth.
You gasp and squirm, trying to wiggle your foot away from his feverish grasp, but he just moves his tongue against your little appendages. “R-Raf—” you whine. It’s kinda disgusting, but you can’t deny the tingling in your belly.
“Yeah? You wanna mess around?” He moans, slamming into you. “M’ bride. Mine..”
Safe to say, Rafayel’s gonna tickle your toes any time he is presented the opportunity, from now on.
Zayne ❄️
The doctor is moaning into the plush of your skin, his hips bucking against your cunt, stuffing you full repeatedly. And then he feels it—someone’s toes touching his scalp. He’s a little confused, his furrowed expression relaxing as he looks at you, and your silly, blissful grin.
But he’s not opposed or grossed out—he’s a doctor, after all—it’s simply human anatomy. And it’s you, his girl.
He’d be damned if he let you being a goofball stop him from satiating you.
Xavier 👽
Oh, Xavier’s into it. In fact, he’d coo at you, telling you to tug harder with your toes. This man would find a way to do it while giving you backshots too; because he’s a cute little freak.
Can I request what it’s like marrying Caleb? Maybe how he proposes, what it’s like leading up to the wedding and then the big day?
EVER AFTER, ALWAYS
PAIRING: Caleb x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: You had known Caleb your entire life, yet never could you have anticipated this moment—standing before the altar, heart pounding, as you awaited the moment your lives would be bound together, not just for a lifetime, but for eternity and beyond.
A/N: Thank you for the request. It came out a little longer than I intended it to be... but oh well! Hope you enjoy!
From stolen childhood laughter to whispered teenage confessions, from playful pillow fights to deep conversations beneath an endless night sky, your story with Caleb had always been written in moments—woven together like the fragile threads of fate, pulling you both toward this very day.
And now, here you stood, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, the evening air thick with the scent of roses and lavender, your heart caught between past and present. The garden around you was alive with color, petals swaying gently in the breeze, as if nature itself had paused to bear witness.
And there he was.
Caleb.
The boy who had grown beside you, who had laughed with you, fought with you, held you when the world was too heavy. The boy who had always been there, waiting, even before you realized he was meant to be yours.
He knelt before you now, one knee sinking into the soft earth, his fingers curled around your own as though he were afraid to let go. In his other hand, a velvet box rested—deep red, like the ripest apple, like the first blush of autumn. The color of first love and forever.
Time seemed to hold its breath.
The world around you softened into a hush—the rustling trees, the distant hum of birdsong, the gentle whisper of the wind fading into nothingness.
Because in this moment, there was only him.
Caleb looked up at you, the amber glow of dusk catching in his violet eyes, turning them into something ethereal. Eyes you had memorized long ago, eyes that had seen every version of you—the reckless, the broken, the whole—and still, still, they looked at you like you held the entire universe in your hands.
And for the first time, you saw something else there, something that made your breath catch in your throat.
Not the usual mischief, not the teasing grin that so often curled his lips.
No, this was something deeper. Something unguarded.
Love, raw and aching and endless.
He exhaled, a breath that trembled ever so slightly, and then he spoke.
“Y/N,” he murmured, your name a prayer on his lips. “All my life, I have searched for the words to describe this feeling—this vast, uncharted love that has always led me back to you. And yet, standing here, with you before me, I realize there is no language vast enough to contain it.” His fingers tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “So I will not search for words. Instead, I will promise. I will promise you the first light of every morning, the warmth of every embrace, the last whispered thought before I sleep. I will promise you my laughter in times of joy, my strength in times of sorrow, and my hand in yours for every moment in between.”
His voice dropped lower, steady yet laced with something fragile, something sacred.
“So I ask you, not just as the love of my life, but as the keeper of my soul—Y/N L/N, will you take this ring, take this heart, take everything I am and everything I ever will be… and make me yours forever?”
The breath you had been holding shattered into a quiet, trembling sob.
You had known this man your entire life, but never had you felt the weight of his love so profoundly as in this moment.
Tears traced warm paths down your cheeks, your vision blurred, your chest aching with a love so full it threatened to consume you.
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. None that could possibly be enough.
So instead, you moved.
A soft, choked laugh escaped you as you threw yourself into his arms, knocking the both of you slightly off balance. Caleb let out a breathless chuckle, catching you as if he had always known you would fall into him. As if he had been waiting for it.
Your fingers curled into his hair, holding him close, closer, as if pressing yourself against him could somehow make this moment last forever.
“…I take that as a yes?” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, yet thick with emotion.
You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips trembling, your nod fervent. “Yes,” you whispered, and then again, firmer, surer, as if the word itself was sacred. “A thousand times yes.”
His breath hitched.
And then, with a slow, reverent smile, he pulled back just enough to slip the ring onto your finger.
It glimmered in the last rays of sunlight, delicate yet strong, timeless yet new. Just like your love.
You stared at it for a moment, watching how it caught the light, how perfectly it fit—how perfectly it was chosen, as if Caleb had always known exactly what belonged on your hand.
“I love you,” you whispered, the words escaping you before you could even think.
And then, at the exact same moment, he said it too.
“I love you.”
You both stilled, eyes locking.
And then, laughter. Soft, breathless, unrestrained. The kind of laughter that came from something deeper than happiness—from something destined, something infinite.
He cradled your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath fanning over your lips.
“This,” he murmured, so softly it was barely a sound, “was always meant to be.”
And as the last light of day faded into the embrace of night, you knew—with every beat of your heart, with every breath in your lungs—that he was right.
This love, this moment, this life… it had always been written in the stars.
...
The wedding preparations were nothing short of nerve-wracking. No matter how much you had anticipated this day, no matter how eager you both were to begin forever, the sheer weight of ensuring perfection made it feel like an impossible feat.
You and Caleb had agreed on one thing from the start—you wanted it to be personal, intimate, a reflection of the love you had nurtured over the years. So, despite his many (many) attempts to convince you otherwise, you had stubbornly refused a wedding planner.
And now?
Now, the florist had canceled at the last minute, and you were seconds away from losing your mind.
"I can't believe this is happening," you groaned, burying your face in your hands. A frustrated whine escaped your lips, muffled by your own palms. "Flowers. We don't have flowers, Caleb! Do you know what kind of catastrophe that is?"
He did not, in fact, look like a man who knew the depths of this catastrophe. In fact, he looked entirely unbothered—leaning against the counter with that infuriatingly calm expression, as if you weren’t one disaster away from a breakdown.
You felt him move before you saw him, his presence as grounding as ever. With gentle fingers, he pried your hands away from your face, tilting your chin upward, his warm palms cradling your cheeks as if they were something delicate.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against your frayed nerves, "breathe."
You did. Instantly.
Because Caleb had always had that effect on you—steadying you, anchoring you, reminding you that no storm was too great as long as he was by your side.
His thumbs brushed against your cheekbones in soft, lazy strokes. "I’ll take care of it, alright? No stress, no worries. Just leave it to me."
And somehow, just like that, you believed him. Because he had never once let you down.
You sighed, a slow exhale as your body leaned into his touch, as if drawn by something greater than gravity. "What would I ever do without you?"
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, rich and full of amusement, sending a warmth through you that settled deep in your bones. "Well," he mused, his lips curving into a smirk, "lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out."
And just to prove his point, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his embrace swallowing you whole, shielding you from the chaos that loomed outside these walls.
For a moment, everything felt lighter.
"How about this," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hairline, "I’ll give you a massage. Help you relax."
You hummed, already melting at the thought of his skilled hands working out the tension in your shoulders. "That sounds lovely… but no funny business, Caleb."
He laughed, the deep timbre of it sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I’ll try," he murmured, his hands already kneading at your muscles, drawing a contented sigh from you. Then, after a moment of silence, he leaned in just a little closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.
"But you make it incredibly difficult to behave."
...
The hours leading up to the ceremony were a blur—a chaotic, beautiful blur.
Morning arrived with golden sunlight spilling through the windows, warming your skin as you lay in bed, eyes fluttering open to the realization that today was the day. The day you would become Caleb’s wife.
Excitement and nerves danced in your stomach, making it impossible to stay still. Your bridal suite was a flurry of movement—soft laughter from your friends, the gentle hum of music, the scent of fresh flowers and perfume mixing in the air. Your dress hung by the window, bathed in sunlight, waiting.
As your hair was carefully pinned and your veil adjusted, your mind drifted back to the night before. To the way Caleb had held you close before you parted ways, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “Tomorrow, you’ll be mine in every way possible. How am I supposed to survive the night without you?”
You had laughed softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “You’ll live. Barely.”
He had groaned, pressing a lingering kiss to your hand before reluctantly letting you go.
Now, standing in front of the mirror, dressed in white, the reality of it all settled deep in your chest. You were about to walk down that aisle, towards him, towards forever.
On the other side of the venue, Caleb was battling his own whirlwind of emotions. Gideon was fussing with his tie, muttering about how he looked like a man about to either pass out or run away. Caleb just huffed a laugh, shaking his head.
"Run away? Are you insane? I’d crawl down that aisle if I had to."
The teasing and laughter didn’t settle the way his heart was hammering, though. He kept glancing at the time, pacing, rubbing the back of his neck. He had waited his whole life for this moment—what was another hour? And yet, it felt like an eternity.
...
The air was thick with the scent of roses and fresh earth, the kind of aroma that carried the promise of something eternal. The sky above stretched vast and endless, a delicate shade of blue, as if the heavens themselves had softened for this moment. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily, painted in golden hues by the morning sun, casting a warm glow over the garden where your life was about to change forever.
Flowers—more than you could name—lined the aisle in an unbroken path of color, swaying gently in the breeze, whispering secrets of love and forever. The soft murmur of guests filled the air, their voices laced with joy, but none of it truly reached you. Not the delicate music played by the string quartet. Not the rustling of leaves. Not the faint laughter that danced like wind chimes in the distance.
Because standing at the end of that aisle, waiting for you, was Caleb.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
He looked breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored suit, dark and crisp against the sunlit backdrop, he was a vision of effortless grace. But it wasn’t the suit, nor the way his tie was slightly undone at the collar—as if he’d grown impatient and loosened it himself—that had your breath catching in your throat.
It was his eyes.
The same ones you had memorized over the years, the ones that held the weight of childhood mischief, teenage rebellion, and a love that had only deepened with time. They were locked onto you, filled with something indescribable—something vast, infinite.
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, and you swore your knees almost gave out beneath you.
As you took your first step down the aisle, the world seemed to slow, each moment stretching into something eternal. Every petal, every blade of grass beneath your feet, every brush of the wind against your skin—it all felt sacred, woven into the fabric of this moment.
Your dress trailed behind you like a whisper, delicate lace catching the sunlight, turning it into something ethereal. With every step closer, the weight of the past—the late-night drives, the whispered confessions, the laughter, the fights over who got the last slice of pizza—all of it bloomed into something tangible, something undeniable.
And then, finally, you were standing before him.
Caleb reached for you immediately, his fingers brushing against yours, grounding you. There was something reverent in the way he looked at you, as if you were something divine, something he had spent lifetimes searching for.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
"You’re beautiful," he murmured at last, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.
A soft laugh left your lips, your heart thundering against your ribs. "You’re not so bad yourself."
The officiant spoke, but the words barely registered. All you could focus on was the way Caleb held your hands in his, the way his thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your skin, as if committing every inch of you to memory.
And then—
"Do you, Caleb, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love, to cherish, in this life and the next?"
His gaze never wavered, his voice steady as he said, "For as long as the stars burn in the sky, for as long as my heart beats, for as long as forever exists—I do."
A sharp breath hitched in your throat.
"Y/N," the officiant turned to you, his words warm, gentle, "do you take Caleb to be your husband, to stand beside him in all that life brings, to love him fiercely and without end?"
Your lips parted, but for a moment, the words refused to come. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because no string of syllables could ever truly capture the magnitude of what you felt for him.
So, instead, you laced your fingers with his, squeezing them gently, as you whispered, "Caleb, I have loved you in every way a person can love another. As a friend, as a partner, as someone whose soul has been intertwined with mine long before we ever knew to call it love. I would choose you a thousand times over. In every lifetime, in every version of reality, it will always be you."
The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
And then—
"You may now kiss the bride."
A slow grin tugged at Caleb’s lips, something smug, something utterly breathtaking. He tugged you close—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
"About time," he murmured, before pressing his lips to yours.
The world dissolved.
There was no audience, no fluttering petals, no music swelling in the background. There was only the warmth of his hands on your waist, the soft sigh against your lips, the unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.
And as he kissed you, the wind carried the sound of laughter, of cheers, of love—wrapping around you both like a whispered blessing.
...
The reception was a blur of soft candlelight, laughter, and the gentle hum of conversation. The scent of roses and jasmine lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of champagne and something sweet—perhaps the wedding cake waiting to be cut. Everything had been beautiful, everything had been perfect, but none of it compared to this moment.
The moment Caleb held out his hand to you, his gaze soft, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Dance with me, love.”
The words were a whisper, but they wrapped around your heart like silk. Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours as he guided you to the center of the dance floor. The lights dimmed slightly, and the first chords of your song filled the room—soft, slow, intimate.
Caleb’s hands found your waist, pulling you in close, your bodies fitting together effortlessly, like two halves of a whole. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
For a moment, you simply stood there, swaying gently before he spoke, his voice so low only you could hear it.
“You’re breathtaking.” His violet eyes shimmered under the golden glow of the chandeliers, pure adoration pouring from them.
A small, breathless laugh escaped your lips. “You’ve already married me, Caleb. You don’t need to keep sweeping me off my feet.”
“Oh, love,” he murmured, spinning you slowly, his grip never faltering. “I plan on spending forever doing exactly that.”
Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest as you gazed up at him, memorizing the way he looked in this moment—his dark hair slightly tousled from your fingers, the softest smile gracing his lips, his hands holding you like you were something precious.
The world faded.
The guests, the music, the laughter surrounding you—it all melted into the background.
There was only Caleb.
Only the way he was looking at you, like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Like he still couldn’t believe you were his.
Your forehead rested against his, the slow, rhythmic movement of the dance feeling more like an embrace than anything else.
“I love you, husband” you whispered, feeling the words press against his skin.
Caleb let out a soft breath, his hands tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go.
“I love you more, wife” he murmured, pressing the lightest kiss to your lips before pulling you back into the dance, his voice a promise in the quiet.
sfw drabble — a happy caleb, who can’t wait to see his wife walk down the isle. this is all he’s ever dreamed about since he was a boy, since he had first laid his eyes on you. the poor little girl in EVER’s lab institute. the little girl who cried for anyone, anything, the little girl he had made giggle by making her toys float to ease her pain.
it was almost scary for him, when he saw you he saw the little girl who looked at him with such perplexing eyes. who gladly took him in their family with open arms. the little girl who asked him to make dumplings or fried chicken. then, looking away, he saw you again.
this time he saw a teenage girl. one who went to his basketball practices and cheered extra loudly at games, a teenage girl who cried whenever she lost a volleyball game; holding him with sobbing eyes. a teenage girl who was anxious for him waiting for his acceptance letter, a teenage girl who gave him a kiss during his graduation and screamed when he walked across the stage.
his eyes burned, his chest heavy, looking away from you. then his gaze floating back to you.
and there you were.
a woman.
the woman who welcomed him back into her world after everything, a woman who sobbed whenever he had to leave for work, and texted him whenever she had the time. a woman who called him to make sure he knew she loved him, and reassured him throughout everything. a woman who devoted her time to both him and work — you grew into a beautiful butterfly.
oh how he loved you. while it hurt knowing that the moments you both shared are long in the past, he remembered that there still was a future, a future with both of you in it.
he watched as you walked down the isle, your makeup almost coming undone while you tried to keep it together, he knew you were going to cry eventually. he watched as he lifted the veil, you looked up at him with your big bright eyes like you have done many years before.
it was sad, yet happy. a day where his emotions were scattered. yet he knew for certain that he loved you, and that he would always love you, because he knew that he loved you, a little more than you could ever realize.
titsay
gummygunk
janainaart
theartofmadeline
