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.
Cowgirl chair sex, pinv, such a pretty summer dress, light choking, that damn glowing eye, possessive!sylus, evol use
750 words
Please give all the flowers to @t-lostinworlds for the gif we receive 🙂↕️🙌
Slap, slap, slap, slap
Sylus' thighs snapped up to greet yours, driving his thick cock inside you at a punishing pace. He held your hips firmly to hover you in the air for himself.
Supporting yourself on outstretched arms, you braced on his shoulders, pushing your trembling muscles against the marble of his skin.
In nothing but your summer dress bunched around your waist and yanked down under your breasts, Sylus fucked up into you from his office chair.
Slap, slap, slap, slap
You whined and moaned, as Sylus pressed hot kisses against your clavicle, down your sternum to your breasts. He bit and sucked hard on the inner slope, while they bounded in time with his thrusts.
Electricity spiked from where he marked you, your hands flying to fist and tug his gorgeous hair. A low growl rumbled deep in his broad chest and sang through the air.
"Mmngh-no fair kitten," his words were slurred from your nipple suckered in his mouth, "you can't distract me that easily."
"I'm gunna," you began, panting harshly, "bite you on the a-ass cheek when we're d-done, pretty boy."
"Pretty boy?" The faked indignation in his voice made your lips curl into a mischievous grin, "Would a pretty boy do this?"
He'd barely finished the word before he launched out of his seat and your back hit the desk. Shock eeked out a strangled cry, as you giggled in his strong grip.
Still inside you, he deftly aligned your legs along his beautiful body, crossing them at the ankles to lift you by them.
"Don't forget to breathe, kitten." His voice sounded like sex and pleasure; like fire and sin.
Without warning he resumed his pace, the proud head of his cock kissing against your cervix.
You gasped and screwed up your eyes against the newest incredible sensations. The feeling of his length plunging inside your warm, wanting cunt. Stretching deliciously around to welcome him home.
Shlick, shlick, shlick
"Listen to that. That sweet sound. That wet pussy." He drawled, a slightly mocking tone, "She's clenching around me sooo tightly. It feels good, huh?"
You tried to nod but your head lolled at the shunts of his body against yours. You tried to agree but only incoherent whimpers came out.
"Mmn-yeahh. Does he make you feel like this? That other pretty boy?" You can hear the sneer on his lip, "The other one you've been fucking."
You tried to say something. Refuse. Agree. Something.
But his other hand glided around your hips, up your belly and chest, to hover his fingers around your throat, like an ornate necklace.
You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his to strengthen his grip. Your spirit sang with it, rippling pleasure across every inch of your skin. Your nipples puckered painfully, your muscles and sinew trembling with abject need.
"The one who's been crashing at your place when I'm not there. Who brings you food and thinks it means he can touch you."
Your legs cricket against his chest, your thighs burning. He knew what it meant. The sounds and sensations of his Evol echoed in your ears and held onto your curves, as he delved his peace fingers to circle your clit. Trembled whines slip past the force of his fingers on your pulse points. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, as your mouth slackens in ecstasy.
"You can sleep whomever you want, sweetie. But you'll always know I'm the only one who fucks you as good as this." The words curled around his growing satisfaction.
Tendrils of red and black mist wrap around your ankles and part your legs, hoisting them to accommodate his large frame. Climbing on the table to encase you with his body, his cock thrums deep inside you.
"No one in the entire universe can satisfy your desires like I can." He growled, muscles bunching and twitching. You knew what it meant, trying desperately to hold on until he came with you.
Sylus released your throat, then tightened his grip to your jaw, bringing your gaze to his. You almost swallow your own tongue as his hot, heavy gaze pierced you down, his right eye glowing threateningly.
"You. Are. Mine." The words rumbled around his office, like the thunderous promise of a monsterous creature claiming it's prize.
Sylus faltered and jerked, your body shuddered and jolted. Your orgasms cresting over the tallest peak in perfected synchronicity.. and the world fell away, dispersing into nothing but blood red and darkest black.
•°•°•
Mm.. Sylus girlies have eaten well of late with spicy and cute content 😚👌 I hope you enjoyed a morsel more.. I have so much more to indulge in 😏🤭
rafayel/caleb: you are PROTECTED and WATCHED. they get along annoyingly well and end up telling each other all their secrets, even the ones kept from you. they decide working together fully is in your best interest. feed into each other's yandere tendencies. lots of ribbons and blindfolds and manhandling when they fuck you. their shared cute aggression and inability to say no to you is your greatest weapon.
zayne/sylus: daddy duo. zayne is the strict one. you go to sylus when you want to go behind zayne's back to get your way. sometimes sylus betrays you and ties you to the bed posts and leaves you for zayne to find when he gets home. they both call you sweet girl, and when you are in public, they both have a hand on you somewhere at all times.
rafayel/zayne: work really well together when shit gets serious. teacher/student roleplay, often. they have very different worldviews and you are always trying to prompt philosophical discussions between them for your own entertainment. also work together well at night. rafayel holds you against his chest, entirely restrained, while zayne punishes you with his cock. very gentle thorough aftercare.
rafayel/sylus: they nearly kill each other a few times at the start. they are apparently accidents, but you have your doubts. especially when sylus calls raf kitten one day and gets a dagger in his shoulder as a consequence. they take you on exotic trips very often. you get fucked in each place. they keep track of these places on a map and challenge each other in various games to decide who gets to choose the next place to take you. they both love dressing you up all pretty, often in pink.
xavier/caleb: always competing for your attention. snarky. passive-aggressive jealous bickering. lock in together when you need protecting. no hand raised against you lives. every time caleb feeds you a perfectly cooked meal, xavier fucks you for desert to make sure he's keeping the balance. caleb banned him from the kitchen for your safety. xavier makes you call him gege sometimes just to piss him off.
xavier/zayne: you catch them in discussions sometimes that make your head spin. they respect each other a lot. zayne has an accident with his evol one night and needs distance from you, escaping out into the cold night. but before he can spiral into self-loathing, xavier follows him out and talks him out of it. he tells him he's the only one in the universe he trusts with your life.
rafayel/xavier: pure joy and fun with a side of murder. they don't get along at first. xavier doesn't like how involved you are with rafayel's revenge/rescue missions. but after insisting on coming along, he quickly gets on side. ends up completely dedicated to the cause, especially when he sees how it upsets you. you find them napping together sometimes, and rafayel calls xavier old and out of touch when he doesn't understand his art. you have baths together nearly every day, and at night they grab at you and tug you between them like two only children who've never had to share their favourite toy.
xavier/sylus: sylus scares children off as he stands at your side and xavier smiles from your other side and tells them he's not nearly as scary as he looks. sylus stirs up xavier's jealous tendencies on purpose just to fuck with him, and because he knows you like it. he'll sit you on his cock and ask who fills you better or challenge xavier to try and take what belongs to him. respect each other but bicker like they hate each other.
zayne/caleb: serious plotting and scheming. have the potential to take over planet earth. EVER is rubble in 4 business days. no matter how much you want to see them fight, they keep it out of your sight, even when you tease and incite jealousy as best you can. sometimes when you've been more trouble than usual, they punish you together for being a bad girl.
sylus/caleb: the most pampered spoiled princess known to mankind. wants for nothing. sleeps in between them every night and when one of them is gone the other cockwarms you to soothe you. potential for absolute evil to manifest between them as they feed into each other's all-consuming obsession and desire for you. have the potential to work together to destroy all life in the universe if it would make you just a little bit happier.
"You need to pay more attention to what you buy," Caleb's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore. He holds your hand gently, his touch warmer than your skin. His thumb rubs against the ring, it takes Caleb a second to look at you again. "This looks like an engagement ring. People might get the wrong idea."
"I'm getting married," you finally manage to say it out loud. The world seems quieter now. "His family's here to meet you."
Caleb hesitates, his smile doesn't falter. "No. No, no, they're not."
You decide to married. Caleb has something to say about it.
❛ ⟡. o 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: pseudocest, afab!reader, mutual pining, cheating (on a third part), use of meimei/gege, explicit sexual content ft. oral (f!receiving), fingering, spanking (very light), mating press, unprotected sex, coming untouched, dirty talk, multiple orgasms. (word count: 7K. bare with me.)
You don't remember ever being this anxious.
Maybe later you will, you know you've been anxious before. Sometimes you had a reason to be afraid, sometimes your brain was just messing with you. There were many times you shivered, cold sweat running down your back and ruining your clothes. But it never went on for so long.
You undressed because of the sweat, fearing this white fabric might stain. After you started ironing it on your bed that you remembered about the guests downstairs. You were quick to lock the bedroom door, breathless after just a couple steps.
Usually, you wouldn't wear something like this. There's nothing wrong with the dress, you just wouldn't buy something so… coy. Formal, almost. Expensive-looking fabric with a modest neckline, the hem ends halfway up your ankles. Now you know ice white is a real color. It's a good dress. A good bride costume.
Maybe when you finally tell Caleb this feeling deep inside you will disappear. Your meimei is getting married, you practiced once more inside your head. Aren't you happy, Caleb?
You put on the dress again, fixed the tight necklace, and unlocked the door. Downstairs, you smiled at those that soon will be part of your family. His mother told you to call her mom. You felt weird, you don't think you ever called someone that. Besides a teacher at middle school, but it was an accident.
His parents gossiped about a neighbor you met once or twice. You relaxed when they simply continued their conversation. You couldn't deal with being center of attention any longer.
Arms locked around you, stopping you from searching for your phone. "Did you iron your dress again?"
"He's late," you whispered. "I was supposed to pick him up at the station twenty minutes ago."
"He's fine," your fiancee placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. "Doesn't Caleb usually walk from the station when he comes visit you? He knows the way."
"But it's different," you hissed. Sparing a glance to your in-laws, you saw how little attention they paid to you. You turned around to face him. "I want to be alone when I tell him."
You plan on driving slowly on the way back home. You know him. Caleb will need the time to let it sink in.
It was a dumb idea to hide being in a relationship for months. Caleb felt betrayed when you finally told him. And then you were… stupid. It shouldn't have taken you so long to realize complaining to him about your relationship wasn't the best choice. That's to say, Caleb doesn't think highly of your boyfriend.
Fiancee, you corrected yourself.
It's his fault, too. Caleb is strict. Always has been. Maybe you wouldn't have been afraid of his reaction if he hadn't spent your teenage years scaring all the boys that glanced your way. Maybe you wouldn't put on so much effort to tell him everything if Caleb didn't talk about your boyfriend as if he was something temporary.
Or maybe you're thinking poorly of him. Caleb only wants the best for you. Even when he was strict, even when you thought he was the worst brother you could have, Caleb always made sure you'd be happy. At your worst, Caleb has always been dependable.
The doorbell rang twice.
A bitter taste spread inside your mouth. Fuck. There was no point in lying to yourself, you knew it was Caleb waiting by the door. Your fiancee squeezed your shoulders, sitting beside his mother to give you the space you need.
You stopped before the door, seeing how those stupid white heels were already untidy. Shaking fingers grabbed the handle. You breathed in, staring at the green apple key chain Caleb gave you when you first moved. You could feel cold sweat accumulating on the back of your dress.
"Gege," your voice failed. "You didn't call me."
Caleb smiles slightly. "You're already taking care of dinner. No need to make you drive, too."
You step back, leaning more of your weight on your left leg. Caleb brushed his feet on the entrance mat, you're almost sure you gave him this pair of boots. "But I wanted to," you manage to whisper.
His smile is wider now. Caleb raises his right hand, a paper bag from a bakery you have to force yourself to ignore on your way work. It smells like caramel and apple. You drool without meaning to.
"Sorry, pip," Caleb teases. He closes the door before you can. "But I got your favorite."
"I need to-" you hesitate when Caleb hands you the paper bag. Your fingers brush against his when you grab it. How warm. "Caleb, I need to tell you something."
You rub your sweaty hand against your waist, certain that this dress will never be worn again. When you look at him again, you see Caleb's eyes following your hand. Caleb quickly focus on your face again, eyes clenching as he begin to joke about being underdressed.
Caleb stops himself mid sentence, eyes bolting back to your hand.
"You need to pay more attention to what you buy," Caleb's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore. He holds your hand gently, his touch warmer than your skin. His thumb rubs against the ring, it takes Caleb a second to look at you again. "This looks like an engagement ring. People might get the wrong idea."
"I'm getting married," you finally manage to say it out loud. The world seems quieter now. "His family's here to meet you."
Caleb hesitates, his smile doesn't falter. "No. No, no, they're not."
"It's not a prank," you squeeze his hand. Caleb looks at the ring again. You take a step forward, placing the paper bag on the entrance table—right beside a photo of Josephine. "Aren't you happy for me?"
Caleb let go of your hand. "You're saying," his voice starts loud but he decides to whisper the rest. Caleb scrubs his wrist against his forehead."That you want to marry that… that boy? When did this-"
"Shut it," you hiss. "They can hear us."
You grab his hand now, squeezing it so Caleb wouldn't move away from you. Staring at his fingers intertwined with yours, you couldn't force yourself to look into his eyes again. "Your baby sister is getting married. So put a smile on your face and say you're happy for me. I'm not asking for too much. It's okay if it's a lie."
As the seconds pass, you don't hear his voice again. You know better than to look at his face expecting to find a smile there. You're the one to put on a bright smile instead, so large it hurts your cheeks. So large the tears you're battling against will be seem as a sign of happiness by your guests.
You grab the paper bag and pull Caleb towards the living room. Caleb is too polite to cause a scene, that you know. He can pretend for a couple hours. If you can do it, so can him.
Caleb squeezes your hand. "I love you," he whispers.
That makes you stop. You close your eyes, repeating those three damned words inside your mind. Oh, how they haunt you. "I know."
You think you heard Caleb laugh under his breath. "I don't think you do."
--
Waiting by the door, you wave goodbye and listen to the smooth purr of the car engine. It's late. You close your eyes, breathing easier now that you're enveloped by a cold breeze. Your in-law drives away. Once his car makes a turn by the end of the street, your fiancee walks out of your home with his keys.
"Are you sure you don't want to sleep here?" You're not sure if it was a genuine offer. Part of you wants to runaway from the conversation you're about to have, the other thinks it's better to just get over with it already.
"I have an early morning," he says. He touches your waist, bringing you closer to him. "Didn't I told you not to worry about your brother?"
Caleb was always good at playing pretend.
You kiss his cheek, forcing yourself to smile. It was just a dinner and still… you're exhausted. You take a step back. "Call me when you get home."
"You know I always forget to."
When he's gone, you get inside and lock the door. Leaning your forehead against it, you close your eyes and try to calm yourself. It doesn't work. You check if the door was really locked and goes upstairs to the guest room. You can hear the shower running.
Caleb's clothes are folded carefully over an armchair, the bedroom smell like soap. You get out of those heels, leaving them besides his boots, and collapse on the bed. This pillow will probably stain with your make-up. You don't really care about that. Caleb is the only one who sleeps here, anyway.
Those past couple hours didn't work to make Caleb any more happy about your engagement. You know when he forces a smile. It didn't help when all that talk about grandchildren started. They laughed when Caleb said you were too young to have kids.
You'll be a good uncle, Caleb. You saw his eyelids twitching at that. Don't be overprotective of her.
You're almost falling asleep when the bathroom door opens. The idea of pretending to be asleep is tempting. You face Caleb instead, his hair humid and face tense. He doesn't say a word.
"They liked you." Most people do. There's a certain charm about him, something that makes people gravitate towards Caleb. "How couldn't they?"
Watching Caleb hang the towel on the coat rack, you sit up and wait for a reaction. Caleb takes his time, his limbs almost mechanic in their movements. He sits by the end of the bed and stare at his own hands, too far away from you.
It feels wrong. When Caleb isn't close enough. Like something's missing.
His silence goes on. You crawl on the bed, sitting right besides him. You lean your head on his shoulder and waits quietly. This time, you'll allow Caleb all the time he needs. He deserves some patience.
You don't know how long you two had been in silence by the time Caleb clears his throat. Fixing your posture, you search for his eyes. He's staring at his hands, you reach out for them and stroke his knuckles.
"You don't love him," Caleb stated, without any room for doubt. "You won't be happy if you marry him."
That makes you scoff. "So I don't love him now?"
"He didn't go to her funeral," Caleb looks at you. His words make your mouth dry. You move your hand away from his but Caleb holds it in place. "Josephine wouldn't approve this."
"He said funerals make him feel bad," you lied. Although it's not exactly a lie, since he did say that. The lie is you making it sound like an acceptable excuse. But you can't agree with Caleb. If you do, he'll never change his mind about this.
"Funerals make everyone feel bad," Caleb doesn't let you have this one. You stand up, too uncomfortable to stay in place. "I was there. You were there. People that cared about our family were there. And he wasn't."
"That was one moment in our relationship. One mistake, a single wrong call." You taste something bitter on your mouth. "Why would you think I don't love him?"
Caleb rubs his neck. You know he had a long week, all his past flights were on the longer side. He always calls you after landing.
"He didn't stay with you on the hospital when that wanderer pierced your lung," Caleb sounds annoyed. Like he's doing his best not to lose his patience. It makes your blood boil. "When was the last time he showed up for you? Put on effort?"
"I'm also not perfect," you shouted. Time passes and you keep on being the first to escalate things when you two argue. It only makes you more enraged. "How can I expect him to be when I'm not?"
"You should expect him to be perfect." Caleb goes after you, his voice is almost as exacerbated as yours. Caleb reaches for your shoulders, you move away from him. "You will share a life with him. How can you be so easy to please when it comes about choosing a husband?"
"Then I guess he's easy to please when it comes about choosing a wife," you snap.
Caleb hesitates.
"What do you mean by that?"
You take a step back, hands running down your hair. This bedroom feels too hot. You try to calm down when you notice that your hands are shaking.
"That you shouldn't put me on a pedestal," you confess. "I wasn't the best girlfriend I could've been. I turned off my phone when I didn't want to be bothered. There were times he annoyed me when all he wanted was to spend some time together. I've pretended to be on business trips so many times just to escape talking to him when he was sad. If his grandma died right now I wouldn't be the bigger person. I simply wouldn't go to her funeral because I'm not as good as you think I am."
You cover you mouth when you realize what you said. What a petty person you are. Didn't you just claimed it was an excusable mistake of his part? You know how horrible it all sounds. You know you should've been better. You know you could've been better if only you wanted to. And now that you finally said it out loud… it sounds like you can't stand him.
"You don't think he's the best husband I could have?" You breath in, body growing hot from embarrassment. "Maybe you're right. But maybe he's exactly what I deserve."
There are things you'd never say out loud. Things that can't be forgiven, things that can't be accepted. Everyone has secrets, at some point in live you have to learn how to keep them to yourself. Thinking what you do, wanting what you do… would people call you heartless for that?
Caleb runs his thumb against your cheek and that's when you realize you've started crying. He pulls you closer, hugging you so tight you feel like he could crush you.
"Do you love him?" Caleb's voice is so soft you could've mistaken it for a lullaby. He rubs your back when you sob. "You can tell me the truth."
People say your wedding will be the happiest day of your life. That nothing will compare. People dream about this. About finding someone that will go down on one knee to declare how much you're loved. About finding someone you want to share you life with.
You want that, too.
"No," you whisper, melting into his touch. Your voice is so weak your mind barely register it. "I don't."
"Be greedy, then. Ask for more than what you think you deserve." Caleb caress your head, fingers massaging your scalp. He sounds relieved. "When did you start accepting less than what you want, pipsqueak?"
You shove him away. Caleb stumbles, taken back by your reaction.
"Who's going to marry me I'm insufferable as you want me to be?!" You poke at his chest, rough enough for him to take a step back. "Who am I going to share my life with if I ask for more? I can't be alone forever. So what if I have to pretend with him? At least I have someone to hold me when I cry."
The first to yell, the first to push away. You were always the one escalating things when you two were younger. Caleb never got mad at you. Not even when you hurt him on purpose. Maybe it's because you were always the first one to cry, too.
"I'll do it," Caleb grabbed your hand. "I'll hold you."
That makes you laugh. Your vision blurs as more tears begin to spill. Hand fisted in his shirt, you pull Caleb closer and continue to shout at him.
"And will you wash my back next time I break an arm?" You can smell his cologne. This is a new one. "Tell me, Caleb, are we going to share a home now that we're both adults? Do you want to split bills and reform the backyard and go out to buy new wallpapers with me?"
His grip gets tighter. Caleb grabs your other hand, something in his eyes make you shiver. He's closer now, you realize when his warm breath reaches your face. Too close.
"When haven't I given you what you wanted?"
"There are things you won't. Things you shouldn't," your voice breaks. There are no tears left for you to spill. "It's been a long time since I accepted that you're my bro-."
"I'll give it all to you," Caleb promises. His body against yours feel so good. How could this be bad? Why should this be so wrong? "Tell me how to take care of you and I will."
When Caleb promises something, it's because he'll make it happen. And for a second, you believe him. For a second, you want to ask Caleb for all the things you never dared before.
You open your mouth just to close it again.
It all needs to end. This conversation, this night. You can't do this anymore. All you want is to be alone. So you say something Caleb won't be able to argue. Something he knows better than to entertain, that will make him let go of you. You tell Caleb a secret. The dirtiest one you have.
How heartless of you.
"Will you give me a baby when I feel ready?" The shock on his face makes you want to puke. "You told me to be greedy, to ask for what I want. Will you give me a family then? I want to marry someone I love, I want a crystal wedding at a fancy restaurant, I want to be surprised at mother's day and I want someone that will fuck me to sleep. Will you do that, Caleb? Will you fuck your baby sister because that's what she wants? Or will you finally understand you can't give me everything I want?"
Caleb shuts you with his mouth.
It's rough, like waves crashing during a storm. Caleb pressed your lips together, so harsh it makes you stumble back. But he's holding your hands tightly, keeping you locked in place. Your bottom lip burns when Caleb bites down, just like the skin in your hands that gets marked by his nails.
Caleb hungrily invading your mouth. You don't kiss him back. You don't have the time to decide what to do, your eyes are still open when you feel his tongue brushing against yours. Caleb let go of your hands to cup your cheeks, his touch warm and gentle but firm as he brings you closer. It feels like he's trying to devour you.
His eyes are open, too. They never looked this dark. Caleb never looked this… relieved.
"I'll give you everything, anything, you want," Caleb whispers, lips close enough to touch yours. His thumbs stroke your cheeks. "Your big brother will keep you completely satisfied. So think only of me."
You forget to breath, waiting for him to take a step back. Caleb doesn't move away. His eyes keep staring into yours. You give him time but Caleb doesn't seem to regret his words. To regret wetting your lips.
You shiver at that. Eyes softening, Caleb presses a small, tentative kiss on your lips. Caleb leans his forehead on yours. "Just depend on me," he says.
You nod.
This time, you close your eyes when Caleb kisses you. He tastes like the apple pie you shared earlier. His hand is on your nape, keeping you as close as possible. The other lands around your waist. Caleb steps forward, forcing you to move. The wall is cold against your back.
There's no space for doubt or hesitation anymore. Not when all you want is for Caleb to touch you more. You hug his shoulders, not willing to let go of him. You want to glue yourself to Caleb, keep him right next to you for the rest of your lives.
"When did he-" Caleb decides he rather suck on lips rather than talk. He traces kisses on your cheeks and licks at your jaw. His mouth guides him to your neck, a whimper almost escapes you when he bites it lightly. "When did he propose?"
You pull on his hair, not to make him stop but because you need to fill your hands with something. "On my birthday."
Caleb bites hard now. It makes you whine loudly, browns furrowing as you complain. His hands go to your hips, holding you in place as he moves away. "Caleb, what are-"
Something in your belly burns when Caleb knelt in front of you. He grabs your hands and put them on the hem of your dress. "Hold it for me," he demands hoarsely.
You swallow hard, doing as he said. He laughs a little and makes you raise your hands. It's hard to breath when you know he's seeing the white thong and how it's already damped. Caleb inhales deeply.
"Keep it like that for me," Caleb kisses your knuckles. "Were you trying to dress-up like a bride, princess?"
"Yeah," you bite your tongue. Caleb squeezes your thighs, fingers stroking them. "Wanted to look cute."
His laugh is breathier now. You fear he's going insane. "We'll throw everything away, pips. I'll get you a better dress, better heels, better panties. Just-just put this away with the trash, okay?"
Caleb places wet kisses all over your thighs. He doesn't hurry, fingers rubbing against the edge of your thong. You spread your legs open a bit more. His eyes are closed as he sucks on your skin, bitting and lapping at it like some type of animal.
Your skin burns a little. The ache of fresh, still forming bruises.
You shiver when he stops. You look down, eyes meeting with his. Those purple eyes are wide open as Caleb brushes his nose against your clothed pussy. He breaths in and you feel your face hotter now. Caleb inhales once more, you see him swallow. Did his mouth watered at your smell?
He pulls the fabric down by the lace, so slow you want to let go of the dress and do it for him. But you decide to behave.
His nose is hot against you. Caleb breathes again, he looks enamored by your scent. Caleb puts your leg over his shoulder, now giving him more space to see your bare pussy. You whine when he blows cold air against your clit.
There's no warning before he sucks, slow enough to make it feel torturous. Caleb's completely blissful. You can feel his spit running down your legs. Your clit throbs when his tongue latches onto it just the right way to make you close your eyes. Caleb seems so dedicated to make you feel good.
That idea alone makes you shiver. You imagine Caleb imagining you. What is he thinking about right now, with his mouth between your legs and your arousal palpable on his tongue? Does he think you smell good? Does Caleb like the way you sound? For how long will Caleb taste you on his tongue? You wonder what would he see if he just looked up at you. Will he remember this when you're not around?
Then you think about the past. Were there times he wanted to do this? Has Caleb ever looked at you and salivated? You imagine his self-control oscillating. You imagine Caleb wanting you so badly it hurts him. Caleb hard and leaking, never satisfied because he couldn't have you. You imagine him crying for you.
Your body leans forward as you cry out his name. It makes Caleb moan, tongue still discovering more of you. The vibration feels good. It's hard to breath now. Hard to imagine anything when you look down and see him lost on you.
"Caleb, Caleb," you chant. "I'm gonna- fuck, fuck, I'm gonna…"
It comes crashing down on you. Caleb holds you as you cum, your legs shaking and drool spilling from your mouth. You think Caleb says something but you can't understand the words. All you can do is drown on this feeling for as long as it lasts.
When you look down, his mouth is soaked. Caleb's face is flushed, eyes small as if he drank way too much. You can see his tongue, something drips from it. Catching your breath, you pat his hair. Caleb leans his head against your hand.
"I think," Caleb exhales. "I need to…"
His tongue is back on your lips. You whine, looking down at him. Caleb sucks, a wet sound echoing inside your eardrums. It makes your stomach burn. "Caleb, I already-"
"I'm not done with her yet," he says. Caleb kisses your clit so gently, hands groping your tights. "She loves kissing, huh? Don't worry, baby, I can hear you begging."
It makes you feel weak. Caleb gets rougher, tongue slipping inside of you. He curls it as his face rubs against you. It feels like you're not there anymore. Is just him and your pussy, the two of them getting along. It's too much, but you don't want Caleb to stop.
Caleb sink his teeth into your tight when you try to pull away from him. It burns. You see when your drool fall on his clothed back. You fist his blouse, eyes getting wetter as you rut against his mouth. Caleb moves away when you pull it, letting you take it off of him. The moment it's gone, he's back on tasting you.
Tasting her.
Back curling again, you almost lose your balance. Maybe you couldn't stand erect, maybe you didn't thought of doing that. You get your leg off his shoulder, you don't think Caleb notices it, and places your feet on the ground. Your hands find support on his shoulders.
"She tastes-I can't get enough, meimei," Caleb's moan against you. "Give me more, I need more."
"Stop, stop, Caleb," you moan. You feel your legs giving out. Caleb pins you against the wall, his evol making your body tremble. You can't think, can't breath, can't keep your eyes open. All you can do is let him have it his way. "Gege… hm, too much…"
When your mind calms down and starts working again, you realize his tongue is back on you. You push Caleb away before he can make your brain melt again. He falls on his back and it almost makes you feel bad for treating him so roughly. But you look at Caleb, at the smile on his face and the wet spot staining his pants, and you don't think he resents you.
Trying to make your way towards the bed, you take a step forward and loses your balance the moment your legs move. The words spins when your knees are about to hit the floor but Caleb uses his evol to make you land softly on his lap. His smile is closer to a smirk now.
"Karma," Caleb laughs. You do it, too. He pulls at the hem of your dress. "Feeling comfortable?"
Caleb holds you in place as he moves his hips to sit up. Forehead leaning on yours, his eyes are all you can focus on. His hands find the zipper on your dress, Caleb's fingers brush against your back as he opens it.
Wanting more than this, you grab the fabric to take it off. Caleb helps when your earrings get caught on the dress. You throw it away, now bare on top of him except by a necklace. Caleb paid for it.
You should've feel ashamed. What a mess you are. You're naked on top of your brother. Face wet with tears because of his tongue, pussy leaking on his sweat pants. Caleb stares at your chest and your pussy clenches around nothing.
All you feel is empty. You reach for his hands, guiding them to your tits. His fingers brush against your skin, you make Caleb squeeze them. Caleb bites your shoulder, hiding his face from you. There's no hiding of the boner you're sitting on top of.
"Caleb," you lean your head on his shoulder. Be greedy, he said. Fine. "I want you to fuck me to sleep. Make me dream of you."
"Are you trying to kill me?" Caleb groan, you can feel how feverish his face is. "Don't say things like that."
Caleb holds you jaw to make you face him. How disgusting you are. Kissing your brother, sucking on his tongue like no sister should. You taste yourself on him. A mess of arousal and spit make your pussy feel cold even though your body burns just like his. You think you'd beg for more if Caleb wanted you to.
"When have i ever said no to you?" Caleb bites your bottom lip. "But you need to do something for me first, pips."
You pout. "I want you inside. Now."
Caleb laughs deliriously. "What a spoiled girl," he sucks your lip. "You got used to gege always giving you what you want. Can you this one thing for me?"
The pout is still there when you nod. Caleb smiles. "Give me the ring."
You don't understand. When your eyes focus on him, you follow Caleb's gaze to your hand. You take the ring off, sweaty fingers making it more difficult than it should've. You put it on his open palm.
Caleb search in his pockets. He opens his wallet, placing the ring inside it. You hold his hand before he could move away. There's a photo of you there. You don't remember when it was taken. "What will you do?"
"I'll return it for you," Caleb throws it on the bed, you feel the pull of his evol. You kinda wish he would do the same to you, but you don't feel like moving away from him now. "Because you will never see him again, right?"
You agree because you want to get Caleb out of his pants. "Never again," you answer. "Will you fuck me now?"
Caleb kisses your cheek. "Until you fall sleep, right?" You nod, watching his fingers play with the waistband. "I got you. Will make you cum over and over until you calm down, baby. So let it all out."
You whine when Caleb doesn't get rid of his pants. His thumb is on your mouth before you can use words to complain. He presses down and you think about biting it but Caleb just said he's gonna make you cum more. You don't want him to change his mind.
Sucking on his thumb, you hold on to his biceps and look into his eyes. Caleb groans. His long fingers tease your clit. Those fingers appeared on your dreams sometimes. His palm is long enough to press on your clit as he spread your slicky folds.
He's slow now, maybe worried you're too sensitive from your before. You watch as he moves. There's something hypnotic about watching how patient Caleb is. He takes time to explore all your spots, observing how you react to his touch. It feel like he's trying to memorize everything about you.
His fingers reach your hole. You realize now they're thicker than you thought. The stretch makes you whimper, you accidentally bite the thumb on your mouth. Caleb doesn't mind. You suck on them again, this time not to tease but as an apology.
You're so wet that it doesn't hurt when Caleb pushes his finger deeper inside. Your own digits can reach that far. His cock is fully hard beneath you now. You moan around his thumb, rocking your hips against his touch. The friction of your clit on his palm feels addictive.
"You're taking it so well, stretching so nicely around me," Caleb's licks from your shoulder to your jaw. "All that crying and yelling and that cheap ring around your finger just because I wasn't giving you what you needed, huh. My poor, needy baby."
Caleb takes his fingers off your mouth when you squeeze his arm. The sound you let escape makes you shiver. "Don't be mean," you moan, trying to get your hair away from your eyes.
"Why would I be mean with you?" Caleb asks, face inches away from yours, his eyes so attentive it makes you want to look away. He thrusts inside of you in a relentless rhythm. "I love when you act like. So spoiled, so pampered that you can't help but demand for what you need. I want you to cry and make a scene when things don't go your way. Be selfish, be greedy. Your brother will give you anything you want."
You sigh, embarrassed to hear all that. "Then I want another finger, gege."
This finger is longer than the last one. Your nails are deep on his shoulders as you try to stay still. It hits in a place that makes your back arch. Caleb takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw.
"She's so soft, meimei," Caleb coos. You clench around his fingers at that, moving your face to find his lips. Your tongue meets his in an open mouth kiss. "You like when I talk to her?"
You bite his bottom lip. "You're saying embarrassing things."
Caleb adds another fingers. He thrusts them inside of you, devouring each moan and whimper you can't hold back anymore. Caleb has a talent at taking you apart. "Feeling shy now?"
You shake your head. "No… you're embarrassing yourself. You want me that much?"
"So much and for so long," Caleb laughs into the kiss. "I hope I don't wake up from this."
"It's not a dream. I'm here."
You shake when a forth finger make its way inside of you. Your hips rush after this sinful sensation. "Most of my dreams are about you," Caleb bites your shoulder.
That makes you laugh. You try to say something but nothing coherent comes out of your lips. Your forehead bumps against his as you ride his fingers. It's too much, too fast, and it's still not enough. You're almost there but you can't reach it.
Caleb sucks on your earlobe, curling his fingers inside of you. It makes such a wet sound.
"Stop," you whimper. Caleb doesn't. "Stop, gege, stop, stop, I…"
"To think I trusted your choice to be his," Caleb whispers on your ear. "Look at you, riding my fingers and saying you don't want this. I'll make the decisions from now on, meimei."
You stop breathing as he drives you over the edge. He's precise, digits brutally hitting your g-spot with an easiness you never had. Caleb doesn't move faster and it makes you feel like you're going insane.
You close your eyes, body growing tense when you finally cum. There's not a single thought at your brain besides how good this feeling is. It's stronger now, it lasts for a little longer. Caleb continues to thrust inside of your pussy, prolonging it for you.
"Too much," you whimper.
"You asked for more and now acts like a cry baby?" You know that tone. When he teases without believing on what he's saying. "We should stop then, if you're already so tired."
You whine when his fingers leave you. "If you don't fuck me right now I'll go after him."
The moment you close your mouth you knew it was too far. Before you can take it back, his hand — wet with your own arousal — hits you across your face. The sound his fingers make against your cheek is more impressive than the slight burning you feel. It still makes you flinch.
Caleb cups your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Apologize," he demands, that same unnerving mimic of a smile back on his face.
You feel something wet rush out of you. "I didn't mean it."
Caleb places his hands under your thighs, nail digging into your skin. He shifts beneath you, using his evol to help him get up from the floor with you hugging his neck. He doesn't need any evol to be able of doing this, you know he lifts much more than what you weight.
"What should I do?" Caleb seems to be talking to himself rather than to you. "Wouldn't it be easier to just lock you away? That way you won't get any funny ideas. Then you'll be all mine."
You wrap your legs around his waist. Caleb walked out of the guest room, the cold air making you groan. "Don't be mad at me, gege. I take it back. I swear I'll never think about him ever again."
Caleb opened the door to your bedroom. He laid you on the mattress, you tried to sit up but Caleb pushed your shoulder to keep you lying down. "Will you forget everything about him? Get rid of everything that reminds you of him?"
You got used to seeing Caleb wear his pilot uniform more often than in casual clothes. It only made more evident how large his shoulders are, how reliable your brother is. You haven't seem the dog tag in a long time but you knew I'd be there. Your eyes follow the happy trail leading you to what's hidden by his sweat pants.
"I only want you," you whisper. His silence made your stomach churn. "I'm yours, only yours, I promise you."
"Who's saying embarrassing things now," Caleb says, although you can see his red ears. So he can get shy, too?
Caleb hooks his thumb on the waistband. He sighs. "Guess I teased you too much, huh."
Your mouth waters when he tugs it all the down. Makes sense why he was so decided to stretch you open. His cock is bigger than his fingers. Throbbing, it was too heavy to stand on its one. So big and waiting to fill you up.
You spread your legs for him, fingers working to open up your folds. You smile when his eyes widen. "I want it here."
Caleb knelt between your legs once more, towering over you. A large hand forced your thighs a little bit further, exposing more of your cunt for him. He decides to lean on the mattress, forearm resting beside your head. You look down when you feel the weight of his cock on your belly.
"That's how deep I'll be," Caleb ruts against your soft skin. You moan when your belly button disappear behind his burly cock.
Caleb kneels again, jerking himself against your pussy. It's so wet, the sound it makes feels so depraved. He hits your clit with his leaking tip before sliding it all the way down to your clenching hole. Your eyes are locked on him, watching the way Caleb drives his tip inside of you.
You sobbed. Caleb places his arms beneath your legs, leaning down and forcing your body to move with his. He's slow, devouring every little sound you make as he thrusts deeper into your pussy. You can feel every vein of his cock.
Caleb's all breathless, so focused on sucking on your tongue. What pitiful sounds you made, now pliant and behaved on his throbbing cock. Inch by inch, he tortures you. You're drooling by the time he fills you completely.
"You should learn with her," Caleb grins. He moves all the way out. You don't have time to complain before he slams it all the way in. "See how greedy she is?"
There's no way you can keep up with him. Your pussy is empty but you can still feel his length inside. Caleb moves his arms, placing his hands behind your knees. He fucks into you, forcing his weight on top of you. Completely folded, you realize you can't feel your legs.
You can't pretend to care about them.
It would be a shame to live the rest of your life without seeing how hungry Caleb is for you. He's taking care of you so nicely. Giving you more whenever you ask for it.
"It's too big, Caleb," you cry out loud. Your neighbors will complain tomorrow. "I need you-I need you to-"
"I know, I know," Caleb presses his hand on your belly. Something incoherent comes out of your mouth. "Breath for me."
You felt it coming. At the back of your mind, building it’s way towards you. You shake, drooling as your mind turns off. It wasn't a explosion, it didn't came with full force. It wavered over you, and it simply didn't stop.
Caleb feels deeper now. "I love you, I love you, princess-"
Your vision goes white, and so does your womb.
Caleb collapses on top of you, arms shaking beside your head. You feel his body moving with every breath, a motion that hypnotizes your own. You open your eyes when you feel empty, a sticky pool beneath your ass, and it surprises you to see you almost feel asleep.
He turns you around, hard nipples brushing against the sheets. Caleb moves your hair away from your sweaty face. He kisses your neck, moving to your nape and back. Your eyes close on its own.
You blink slowly. Looking back, your eyes widen at the sight of Caleb jerking off his still soft cock.
"Let's put her to sleep," Caleb says like it's a promise. He leans on top of you, rubbing his face against yours. Your heart melt a little. "I wonder what will you dream about."
You laugh at that. "Most of my dreams are about you," you get cozy on the pillow.
Caleb kissed your smile and you felt perfectly, utterly, completely satisfied.
[⋆☕︎˖] synopsis : sometimes you feel like you and caleb are so different that you wonder how you're even together, but then he reminds you of all the things he loves about you wc. 1.2k
[⋆☕︎˖] tags : caleb x gn!non-mc reader, fluff, comfort, anxious thoughts, reassurance, utter sweetness, caleb soothes you through it all
a/n : this may be a niche scenario but listening to 'cup of tea' by the two lips sparked my brain receptors. i feel like a fairy godmother that stops by every once in blue moon to bring an ounce of comfort to those who need it ಥ‿ಥ
You had been feeling off these past few days.
It started innocently enough. Conversations with friends, casual talks with their partners, listening to them gush about all the things they did together.
Matching hobbies. Shared interests. Couples who seemed to move in perfect sync with one another.
And somewhere along the way, the thought lodged itself into your head and refused to leave.
“Do you ever wish we had more in common?”
Caleb glanced down at you from where your head rested in his lap, brow lifting slightly. “What do you mean? We have plenty in common.”
“Like…?”
“Like our mutual affection for each other,” he said, poking your cheek.
You rolled your eyes. “That’s a given. But honestly, thinking about it now, it’s kind of a miracle we even ended up together.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way,” he said easily.
Your attention drifted away from the movie playing in the background, your thoughts wandering far louder than the television ever could.
The couple on screen fit together so naturally it was almost irritating. They liked the same things, finished each other's thoughts, laughed at the same jokes. They moved through life like matching puzzle pieces.
Meanwhile, you and Caleb once spent forty minutes arguing over whether watching a nature documentary counted as 'quality movie night material.'
“I mean, look at everyone else,” you muttered quietly. “Every weekend they're doing activities together, going to classes together, hiking together…”
“Well, that's them,” Caleb replied simply. “And this is us.”
His fingers drifted absentmindedly through your hair.
“And I love us."
Your chest tightened slightly at how easily he said it.
“You say that now,” you muttered, playing with the hem of his shirt, “but what if one day our differences become too much? What if eventually we just… stop fitting together? What if the things we love about each other now just become annoying later?”
He looked down at you for a moment.
Then—
“Pfft.”
Your head snapped back instantly.
You smacked him in the stomach, and he winced dramatically. “Ow.”
“You’re not taking this seriously,” you accused, sitting upright.
“I am,” he insisted, muffling his laugh. “Okay, fine. Let's say one day the thought of my cooking revolts you and you can't stand anything I make anymore.”
Your ears perked up slightly despite yourself.
“Well…” he hummed thoughtfully. “I guess I'd just have to scrap all my recipes and learn some new ones.”
“And what if the food I like doesn't agree with you?”
“Then I either learn to love it,” he shrugged, “or I spend another thirty minutes cooking something else for myself.”
You frowned harder while he fought back another smile.
“This is serious.”
“Most couples worry about communication problems,” he said. “You're over here preparing for the collapse of civilization because we ‘may' or may not end up liking the same food.”
You sighed, looking at the ground. “What if one day the differences become too much?”
“You really think we'd break up over a few disagreements?”
“Not a few,” you muttered. “Over time…”
He adjusted his position on the couch before opening his arms slightly toward you.
You huffed dramatically but still crawled back into the space he made for you, settling against his chest while his chin rested on top of your head.
“Having different interests is one of my favorite things about us,” he admitted softly.
You blinked.
“While it'd be nice to have more in common sometimes, I like seeing the world through a perspective I never would've found on my own.”
“Don't you ever get bored of the things I like?”
“Do you get bored when I ramble about my things?” he posed.
“No…” you pondered for a moment, “well, sometimes.”
He chuckled. “We're not going to agree with each other all the time, just like how we're not going to have the same interests either too.”
His arms tightened slightly around you.
“Do you know how depressing this apartment would look if you hadn’t gotten involved? If it were up to me, everything here would still be dark colours and plain furniture.”
You smiled a little despite yourself.
“Because of you,” he continued. “I find myself liking things I never would've looked twice at before. I go places I wouldn't normally go. I try things I never thought I'd enjoy.”
His voice softened further. “The world feels bigger with you in it.”
Your fingers tightened slightly against his shirt.
“I'll never get tired of hearing you talk about the things you love,” he said. “Even when I don't understand half of it. I like it because it's you, and I love seeing you light up.”
He rocked you gently in his arms. “I adore every little fragment that makes up you.”
“When I'm with you, it feels like I'm learning about the world for the first time. You leave little pieces of yourself behind in everything you do, and before I knew it, those pieces have become important to me too.”
Your expression slowly softened.
“So how can you say we won't work out when we're older?” he murmured. “All couples fight. We just start ours earlier, apparently over what to watch on movie night."
“I still wasn't watching that documentary,” you said, firmly. “Though the physics one was slightly less boring than the others.”
He laughed quietly before suddenly rolling the both of you sideways onto the couch cushions."
“Caleb—”
His face rubbed aggressively against your hair while you squirmed beneath him.
“How lucky am I,” he murmured into your neck, “that I get to keep discovering new ways to fall in love with you?”
The playfulness faded from your expression slightly.
“What if in ten years I'm not the same person you fell in love with?”
He stilled for a moment.
“Ten years is a long time,” he admitted quietly.
Your stomach sank slightly.
But then his arms tightened around you again.
“Who's to say I won't love the version of you ten years from now too?”
You looked up at him.
“I guess I'll just have the honor of falling in love with you all over again,” he reassured.
Something in your chest ached.
“I love you for you,” he continued softly. “And even if you change completely someday, I'll love whoever you become too.”
Your throat tightened.
His thumb brushed against your cheek. “All your sides, show them to me. Let me love all of them.”
“I've only ever wanted you,” he said. “When you're sick. When you're happy. When you're rambling about your hobbies. Even when you're angry at me.”
A grin hugged at his lips.
“Especially when you're angry at me.”
You groaned softy while he laughed.
“I want us to experience everything together,” he whispered. “Even the boring parts. Even when we're wrinkled beyond recognition and yelling at each other over what temperature the thermostat should be.”
He pressed a kiss to your forehead before peppering more along your jaw and neck.
You squirmed immediately. “Stop, that tickles.”
“Never."
He locked his arms tighter around your waist and buried his face into the crook of your neck.
“I could never get sick of you,” he mumbled against your skin. “I want every part of you.”
Your heart swelled painfully.
“So show me new sides of yourself,” he whispered. “Let me love those too.”
Then he smiled softly against your shoulder.
“It's you I want to spend the rest of my life loving.”
a/n : and thus she awakens from her indefinite slumber. i always get inspired at the worst times (rip exam upcoming szn) but that means you might be seeing more of me in the next couple of weeks♪～(´ε｀ ). writing brings me a great deal of comfort esp when im going thru a rough patch. one of my goals when writing is to hopefully ease someone's heart and perhaps offer a bit of comfort to those that need it. I don't write often but i still appreciate everyone giving my work some love. as always ty for reading my sweet bbs!! (✯ᴗ✯)
May i request angry sex with rafayel x non mc where you truly believes he hates you because you had to marry him in the place of your sister, mc, who got married to someone else. But then why does he look at you like you matter while he thrusts inside you? Why does he kiss you places that he shouldnt? So why does not he act like he hates you while hes deep inside you? (You tried suggest backshot since you dont wanna see his face but he refused)
hurts me to write non!mc but oh were we are again... buuuut thank you for the request! (p.s. not proofread so pls excuse the mistakes)
🔞 MDNI 🔞
“Just… just fuck me from the back, Rafayel,” the words escape into a fractured whisper against his cheek. You turn your face away, pressing it into the damp linen. Your voice is a traitor, thick with unshed tears you refuse to let him see. “Please. It’s easier that way.”
You don’t have to explain why. The unspoken words hang between you, sharp as coral shards. Easier because I don’t have to see the contempt, or worse, the blank canvas where my sister’s face should be. Easier to pretend I am just a body, a duty you’re fulfilling, a debt you’re paying to a treaty signed in her name.
His movements, which had been a slow, almost punishing rhythm, cease entirely. The sudden stillness is more jarring than a shout. You feel him shift, his weight propping onto one elbow. A long, cool finger hooks under your chin, exerting a deceptively gentle pressure to turn your head back towards him. You resist, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Open your eyes and look at me.”
It’s not a request. His voice is that same melodic, teasing lilt you know so well, but now it’s stripped of its usual performative boredom. It’s low, carrying an undercurrent that vibrates deep in your chest, one that makes your throat tighten and your eyes screw shut tighter than they had been.
“No. Just do it this way, I’m telling you I—”
“And I’m telling you,” he cuts you off, thumb tracing the trembling corner of your mouth, “that a masterpiece is meant to be viewed, not hidden away in a dark vault. What kind of artist would I be if I turned my canvas to the wall at the most crucial moment?”
The absurdity of the metaphor, so utterly him, almost breaks the dam inside you. “I’m not your canvas. I’m a substitute. A- A stand-in. And you’re not an artist right now, you’re just…”
“Just what?” he breathes, hips shifting inside you. He doesn’t withdraw as you thought he would; instead, he sinks deeper, a slow and relentless intrusion that forces a gasp from your lips. Your eyes fly open in shock, meeting his directly for the first time. They aren’t cold. They’re a deep, bruised twilight, a roiling ocean under a gathering storm. “Just your husband, taking what’s his? Don’t. Don’t you dare look away from me when I’m inside you.”
A tear escapes at his words, betraying you completely, sliding from the corner of your eye into your hair.
“You hate me,” you choke out, the truth of the situation you’re both in acting as a raw, open wound. “You wished I was her. Every day, you look at me and you wish it was her, Rafayel. I—” your voice breaks, making you frown at how pathetic you must look right now. Naked under him, with his cock buried inside you and you soaking the sheets in your pathetic tears. “I can’t handle it anymore, so please…just...”
Something flashes in his blue-pink ombre eyes—a flicker of genuine, blazing anger. But it’s not directed at your words. It seems directed at you, for daring to believe them. With a harsh, frustrated sigh that ghosts across your lips, he grabs your thigh harsh. His long fingers dig into the soft flesh, guiding your leg up and around his narrow hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him.
“Oh, so you think this is hatred, then?” he frowns down at you, voice dangerously soft. He rolls his hips, an excruciatingly deep grind that makes you see stars. You arch against him involuntarily, a sob catching in your throat.
“You think I’d waste my time, my magnificent attention, on someone I despised? There are countless people in this world I find utterly boring, and I don’t give them a single, solitary thought. But you…” he thrusts again, harder this time, a punctuation mark on his sentence that jolts your entire body.
He captures your other thigh, wrapping it around him too, so you are completely open, utterly defenseless, folded into him as if he’s trying to press you back into his own body. Your hands, which were fisting the sheets, flail and find his shoulders, his back, the damp curls at the nape of his neck for something to hold on as to not drift away in your escapism.
“Why?” you sob softly, the question a fragile, desperate thing. The anger is gone from his face, replaced by a searing, soul-deep intensity you’ve never seen being directed at you before, one that terrifies and exhilarates you in equal measure. “Why do you do this… if you don’t hate me? Why do you kiss me like…”
He silences you with his mouth. It’s not a punishing kiss; it’s a drowning one. Slow, deep, and utterly consuming, his tongue sliding against yours with a languid, possessive heat that leaves no room for doubt. He kisses the corner of your mouth, the tears on your temple, the frantic pulse point hammering on your throat. Places a husband obligated to a stand-in wife would never think to go.
“Because, my obtuse little wife,” his breath ghosts against the shell of your ear, a rasp that matches the rhythm of his hips thrusting slow and deep into you, “I don’t paint forgeries. I don’t keep them. And I certainly don’t let them see me as I am.”
He pulls back just enough to look at your face, his gaze roaming your it as if memorizing how you look in this moment, every tear that escaped your puffy eyes, every flicker of bewildered hope. “You are not her. The very notion is an insult to the color of your soul. I married a shadow, I expected a pale imitation, a dull echo… and instead, I found you. Real, and defiant, and so brilliantly, achingly alive it’s a constant, maddening distraction to me.”
He rolls his hips again. A slow and powerful surge that has you crying out, your nails raking down his back. He answers with a guttural groan, his head dropping to the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses there that have you trembling.
His voice is a shattered, beautiful thing against your skin. “Don’t you understand yet? I’m not thinking of her. I can’t. You’ve driven every other thought from my head... you infuriating, beautiful catastrophe. The only thing I hate… is that you don’t already know you’re the one I’ve been waiting to drown in.”
The confession breaks over you as your climax does, a wave of pleasure and relief so acute it’s indistinguishable from pain. He follows you over the edge a heartbeat later. A long, shuddering sigh tearing from his lips as he buries himself as deep as he can go, spilling his warmth inside you.
He holds you like that for a long, silent moment, his face hidden into your neck, his lean body trembling slightly against yours, anchored and finally, completely still. And in that stillness, you don’t hear hatred.
childhood bestfriends caleb and nonMC!reader, who he's secretly in love with while she thinks he likes someone else
warnings. angst, fluff, rejection, she fell first he fell harder, caleb is down bad, groveling, miscommunication, caleb sucks at feelings, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, he gives her a nickname adjacent to pipsqueak
preview. "I love you," he says, pressing his forehead against yours. You want to tell him that it's not fair to treat you the way he does and expect you not to fall for him. That holding your hair when you vomit, falling asleep at your bedside when you're sick, and his eyes closing in on you in any room is not fair. "Then prove it to me."
wc. 8.4k (she's hefty...)
You proposed to Caleb for the first time when you were nine years old, with a flower ring.
The winter air had nipped at your flushed cheeks as you stepped into ice, holding it out to him. Your breath had puffed into the air like a dragon, and you nuzzled your chin further into the wool of your scarf to keep warm. It had been the only flower left after fall had faded away, yet its white petals stood brilliantly in between your fingertips, weathering against the cold.
The child in front of you was closed off. Eyes narrowed, fists balled inside his pockets, and usually adorning a solemn look on his face. Though, it had certainly gotten better since you first met him as one of Grandma Josephine’s adoptive children. Back then, he hadn’t even spoken much—only keeping MC tight at his side, as if she might disappear if he didn’t. He wasn’t rude by any means…just, cautious. Too aware for a child of his age.
But without a doubt in your mind, he was the most handsome boy you’d ever seen.
He’d raised his brows. “You just met me last week.”
“It’s love at first sight.”
He rejected you, naturally, but it did little to make a dent in your childish heart. Not when his purple hues gazed into your own, with a softness that didn’t seem intent on hurting you.
The next two decades becomes a perpetual cycle of this encounter—in which you learn that Caleb is a very caring person.
In that time, you learn a lot about him, aside from his gorgeous face. You find that he’s fond of nicknames. Pipsqueak for MC. Splints for you, when you launched yourself off a swing and broke your wrist trying to impress him. Safe to say, it didn’t impress anyone but your doctor, who was baffled you managed to fly so high into the air with your 11-year-old legs. Caleb held your other hand tight in the emergency room as you wailed helplessly, waiting for the doctor to ease the pain. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cry just a tad longer to keep your hand in his.
“This thing is so ugly,” you whine, picking at your cast as he walks you back home. “Do you think I’m gross now, Caleb?”
“It’s not ugly. You need it to get better.”
“I thought you’d fall in love with me if I went high enough,” you sniffle fake tears, which he reads in an instant. “I did go pretty high up, though. So maybe you like me at least.”
He laughs, and you scowl, insisting that you aren’t joking. So instead, he smiles and holds your free hand in his again. Your heart skips a beat. A childish, but innocent love fluttering in your chest. “Come on, splints. Let’s go watch TV, and I can sign your cast.”
The broken wrist is so worth it.
With MC being two grades lower than the two of you and thus having a different schedule, it doesn’t take long before you’re doing practically everything with Caleb. He’s your seatmate in class, the two of you walk to and from school, and there doesn’t seem to be a moment where you aren’t glued at the hip. Throughout all of this, you make sure you shoot your shot whenever the chance arises—even when it doesn’t arise at all.
“You get any chocolates for Valentine’s?” you ask as you plop down in your seat with your lunch, not-so-conspicuously eyeing his desk as his friends begin to crowd around the two of you. It didn’t take long for Caleb to adjust to ordinary school life. After his initial bumpy introduction where he seemed hesitant to get close to anyone his grandma would introduce him to, he was quick to adjust to a level of charisma even you haven’t gotten to.
By now, he’s charisma personified. You, yourself, have no idea how quickly he adapts to things. Though, you do recall that after an exam measuring his intelligence, he was told he couldn’t lower his grade by two years to be with MC. So you suppose he’s rather bright—almost as much as his face.
“Too many,” one of his friends groan, dragging his hand down the side of his face. “Life’s so not fair, dude.”
“Just a few,” Caleb laughs, turning to feel me stare at him expectantly. “Most of them are obligatory. I just helped a couple people out during gym.”
You glance at his friends. “How many is a few?”
“At least five,” another one grins. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and his friend snickers at his shoulder. “You jealous?”
It’s not like your crush on Caleb is new news. In fact, it’s practically common knowledge at your school, given how open you are with your affection with him. Asking him out with a giant poster on orientation day, sending him notes with hearts littered everywhere during class, and refusing to be subtle when you’re discussing it with your friends…it tends to add up. Most people believe your relationship to be strange, but those who matter thought of it as the norm, so it doesn’t really matter.
“Jealous? I don’t think so, why?”
“Most girls would be if their boyfriend got a bunch of chocolates,” he responds, to which Caleb immediately reminds him that you’re not dating. Then his friend sighs. “It’s cute when girls get jealous, isn’t it?”
At this, your ears perk.
“Should I be jealous?” you ask Caleb, making his friends erupt into snickers. “Do you think it’s cute too?”
He rolls his eyes and flicks your forehead softly. “Do you ever ask normal questions, splints?”
Throughout your childhood together, everything involves him. Family dinners, graduation, holidays, all of it. Of course, this means that MC is there for all of it too. You’re helplessly in love, but you’re not stupid. You know what love looks like from the movies their grandma would play on their TV. He cares for her with a different look in his eyes. He protects her with a lovingness in his voice that he doesn’t spare for you.
The same fingers that flick your forehead touch her arm gingerly, like she could crack in half if he holds too hard. He doesn’t touch her very easily either, whereas he often falls asleep with his head fully leaning against your shoulder on the bus ride home. He wakes up at the crack of dawn to make her lunch, while the two of you munch on sandwiches from the school cafeteria during lunch breaks. He scolds you when your clothes are tossed on the ground while he folds hers without her having to ask. He never enters her room to protect her privacy while he lounges in yours like he owns the place.
Your Caleb, you have found, is different from MC’s Caleb.
MC’s Caleb is easy to depend on. Trustworthy, perfect, and never makes a mistake for the life of him. He never loses his cool in front of her, never has a hair out of place, lets her win at all the board games, and always has this clear but dazed look in his pretty purple eyes. Your Caleb has none of that. Your Caleb teases you mercilessly when you lose the card game for the fifth time in a row. Your Caleb passes out on his desk while studying for an exam, essentially drooling on his notebook to lie to MC that he’s naturally talented at math. Your Caleb sends you stupid videos about plane models and forces you to sit through a thirty-minute explanation about it.
You know he likes her. He knows you know he likes her. She doesn’t know anything at all. All jumbled up, like a wordless pact ready to crumble at any moment.
Of course, this means that he prioritizes her over you at times. All the time. It’s to be expected. She’s family, you’re not. You’ve grown used to it, and so has he.
MC doesn’t notice though, because she doesn’t have to. Because to her, Caleb is just a slightly nagging but cool adoptive brother. Nothing more, nothing less. And you’re one of her childhood friends, and Caleb’s best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
The first year after you graduate high school is a dramatic shift from your cozy hometown. You somehow manage to get into the same college as Caleb–and you attribute his tutoring to be the main culprit—though in different majors. It’s a lot to convince him to go so far from home given that MC is still at home, but after a lot of reluctant discussion, he agrees.
“Take off your shoes at the door,” he reminds you as you barge into his dorm room after a particularly difficult exam for one of your classes. You do as he asks, grumbling about how he has no mercy for the fallen, tossing them haphazardly beside the door and prancing past him. He takes the time to tidy them up, as if he’s expecting it. “How was your exam?”
“Awful. I went through war.”
Caleb grins as he sits down at the coffee table beside you, watching as you bury your face into your arms. “And whose fault is it that they didn’t want to study?”
“Yours.”
“Funny,” he snorts, and you feel his large hand ruffling the top of your head. “It’s alright, splints. I can tutor you a bit earlier on the next one.”
“Even you can’t save me for this class.”
“Is that a challenge?”
He ends up cooking up something quick in his makeshift kitchen (essentially just a rice cooker), while you laze around on his bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Once he’s finished, you scarf down his food like a man starved, lips stretching widely. At times like these, you’re oddly grateful for his hopeless love toward MC. How else would he have learned to cook such good food? “You should honestly be a chef, Caleb. Actually, no, that would mean other people would eat your food. I guess you can just be my personal chef when we’re married.”
Caleb remains completely unaffected, wordlessly cleaning the plate in front of you. “I didn’t realize I was engaged.”
“Well, now you know. Not sure if you remember, but I had fireworks for you and everything when I proposed. Plus an orchestra.”
He hums, looking up as if he’s in thought, and then nods. “Now that you mention it, that does sound familiar, splints. How could I forget?”
You shrug. “You tell me.”
His face falls as you pace to the door and begin to put your shoes back on. “Where are you going? Aren’t you done with class?”
“Going out. I deserve it after that exam.”
“With your friends?”
“No, with four guys,” you joke, but he doesn’t seem to find it very funny. “I’m just going to a club. I won’t be back too late.”
He’s already grabbing his jacket. “I can come.”
You push him back with your finger by the nose, and he blinks in surprise, making you laugh. “No need. You have exams too, y’know.”
“I’m done studying.”
“Liar.”
Though it takes some convincing, you eventually have him sit at his desk once more. He manages to nag a whole lot as you leave, reminding you to call him once you’re done so he can pick you up, but you just wave him off as you leave out the door. You take your time getting ready–dolling yourself up to hide the dark circles beneath your eyes. As you get ready, you video call MC, where she asks how you and Caleb have been doing in her absence. She rants about her days with her grandma, complaining about how quiet the house is when Caleb isn’t home, though she indulged in the beginning. She asks you to show her your outfit once you’re done, and she beams brightly in your screen, squealing about how you’d likely get a boyfriend soon that you can tell her all about.
You just smile, because you don’t know how to tell her that the only boy you want is wrapped around her unknowing hand.
The club is loud. Where the music rumbles through your feet to the tips of your fingertips, and the lights are flashing in a dimly lit room. Your friends flock to a table and order drinks while you let yourself feel the music and crack a joke or two once in a while.
A group of guys approaches you with easy smiles and louder voices than necessary—confidence sharpened by cheap cologne. One of them leans against your table like he’s done it a hundred times before, asking your name, where you’re from, if you come here often. The usual.
You answer, choking out a laugh to humor his unfunny jokes alongside your friends, while the swigs you take from your drink become deeper and deeper.
He’s not bad at flirting, you think. Subtle, and not too glaring about it. But you don’t particularly enjoy humoring it, and it becomes gradually more apparent as your eyes keep drifting elsewhere and you keep having to ask him to repeat himself. You’re growing bored. Irritated.
Because he’s not Caleb.
It hits you in strange, inconvenient flashes. The way this guy stands just a little too far away. The way his voice doesn’t quite reach you over the music, even when he’s close. The way you don’t feel that familiar, grounding presence like an anchor holding you to the ground.
You find yourself glancing past his shoulder. Half-wishing to see Caleb there. Watching. Hovering.
But there’s only strangers. Blurred faces and flashing lights.
“You okay?” the guy asks, tilting his head.
“Yeah,” you say too quickly. “Long week.”
He grins, like that’s an invitation. Says something else—something about getting you another drink, maybe dancing, maybe getting out of here.
You nod again. Smile again.
Across the room, your friends are already disappearing into the crowd, dragged toward the dance floor by laughter and hands you don’t recognize. One of them glances back at you, gives you a look that asks ‘you’re good, right?’ before she’s gone.
You sit back down at the table when the guy steps away. Maybe to grab drinks, maybe because he senses your attention drifting. You don’t really care which.
The music swells in your chest. The lights flicker. You wish you could enjoy yourself, but it’s particularly hard today.
You take another sip. Then another. Your phone rests face-down on the table, but you flip it over anyway.
No messages.
Of course not. He cares, but not like that. Not in the way that he would spam MC’s phone whenever he didn’t know where she was or how she was doing. No, not like that at all.
Another sip. The glass is nearly empty now.
And suddenly, you’re pressing send before you can even register what’s happening.
[you]: hi
The answer comes immediately, the grey bubbles popping up on his end of the screen.
[futre hubs <333]: do you need me to come pick you up?
[futre hubs <333]: i can
You’re not sure why you feel like shit, but you hate it. In moments like these—moments where the alcohol lets you lower your walls and truly think—it hits you like a truck, like a deeply sinking feeling in your chest. The years of rejection after rejection that the two of you frame like a bit—as if your feelings have become so miniscule that it no longer even phases him.
It hurts, a bit. More than you let yourself feel.
You’re not sure how much time passes. Maybe minutes or maybe an hour. There’s buzzing throughout your body. The grip on your waist belonging to the man you’ve been half-heartedly entertaining suddenly becomes harsher, snapping you out of your trance. It feels unlike Caleb, but you let it sit anyway. However, the hand moves to your wrist, and you’re being pulled out of the crowd towards the wall.
Too touchy. He’s saying something into your ear, and you feel his breath against your skin. You don’t like it. Too close. The buzzing feeling feels more like an alarm now.
The words either go unheard due to the music or don’t deter him. You want to go back. Back to Caleb. In the moment, you begin to think—almost as if the world is in slow motion. Perhaps the drinks, you think. You wonder if Caleb will leave you. You wonder if he’ll leave to go be with MC. You wonder if the years you’ve spent expressing your love to him meant as much to him as it did to you, or if he just found it plain annoying. You wonder if now that you’re in college, he’d want to explore other people, and he’ll finally find an outlet to get rid of you for good.
But you know he wouldn’t. Because he cares for you. Just not as much as he cares for her.
You wonder if he’s ever looked at you with the same softness he does with MC.
Someone pulls you away from the man and into their chest, and the worries dissipate in an instant. His scent. His warmth. You knew he’d come. He always does. It only takes a warning glare from Caleb before the man disappears into the crowd again, and you feel the grip on your wrist loosen. Caleb stares down at you, your back still to his chest as you blink wearily, almost in slow motion, and he sighs. He doesn’t give you the same smile he gives to MC when she’s in trouble.
A part of you wishes he wasn’t always there for you—not when it’s so different from how he’s there for her.
You sit idly in front of a convenience store parking lot while Caleb fetches you some water and ice cream. You have your knees to your chest, arms pulling them close as you shiver against the cold autumn breeze. You should’ve brought a jacket. The buzzing, hot feeling of the alcohol is subsiding too quickly.
“Drink.” You feel a water bottle press against your cheek from behind, and Caleb plops down beside you with a plastic bag. He notices how you’re holding yourself together and frowns. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“I told you to grab a jacket.”
“You nag too much.”
He snickers and twists open the cap of the water bottle for you to drink, which you sip carefully. He strips his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders, and you immediately bury yourself in it. It smells like him.
“What kind of woman do you like, Caleb?”
“You and your questions.”
“I want to know.”
He shifts to face you, motioning for you to lift your arms. He grabs either side of his jacket and pulls it shut, fumbling with the zipper until he manages to zip it to your chin. You can barely claw your hands out of his sleeves—the fabric almost engulfs you—but he just laughs. “My type? A woman who brings jackets when it’s cold.”
You scowl, making his laugh echo louder. “Other than that.”
“A woman who goes to class in the morning.”
“...Other than that.”
“A woman who doesn’t leave her clothes all over my floor when she feels like sleeping over.”
“Something else.”
“A woman who eats healthy, balanced meals. A woman who doesn’t steal all my pens and then still ends up asking me for more. Maybe someone who doesn’t pass out drooling on my pillow. Or someone who doesn’t let half the world know that they like someone—hell, maybe even the entire world.”
Caleb glances at you, chuckling to himself, but stops the moment he sees that you’re not laughing with him. Your head hangs low, your feet shuffling anxiously. His face twists, and suddenly the air thickens. “Splints?”
You pick at your sleeves. “So just not me?”
“I was just kidding around.”
“Jokes have some truth to them.”
“Not all of them. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay, Caleb,” you finally meet his eyes again, and shrug. “I know you like someone else. I’m not an idiot.”
Silence commences, like a bell dropping on your head.
Caleb shifts his weight, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. It’s a nervous habit you’ve seen a hundred times—usually followed by some half-joke, something to smooth things over.
But nothing comes.
The space between you suddenly feels too small and too big all at once. You try to act normal. You really do.
You fiddle with your sleeve again, smoothing it down, then pulling at it, then smoothing it again. Anything to give your hands something to do, so they don’t reach for him out of instinct.
Caleb glances at you. Then away.
Then back again, like he’s trying to solve something written across your face but can’t quite make out the words.
“Hey,” he starts, softer this time.
You hum in response, not trusting your voice yet.
Another pause. God, it’s awkward.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters again, quieter now. Not defensive. Unsure. “You know I think you’re amazing.”
Just not enough.
“I am pretty great,” but it comes out too soft.
Neither of you knows what to do with another stretch of silence. So you opt to drink some more water instead.
“Why do you like me so much?” He eventually mutters out as he bites his bottom lip, eyes falling to the ground like he can’t bear to watch your expression. “You could do a lot better.”
You smile, but it’s half-hearted. “How could I not?”
He pauses, as if choosing his words carefully before his voice comes out in a soft whisper. “You mean so much to me. You’re smart, beautiful, and everything good in between—whoever gets to call you theirs is the luckiest person I know. And you know I’d do anything for you.”
Despite their sweetness, his words feel like judgement wrapping around your heart in vines, squeezing just before it’s about to pop. You wish you could block your ears out for what comes next.
“But it can’t be me.” Caleb’s lips purse, brows furrowing as he looks away. “I can’t give you what you want.”
The rejection hurts more than you realized it would. You want to tell him that it’s not fair to treat you the way he does and expect you not to fall for him. That holding your hair when you vomit, falling asleep at your bedside when you’re sick, and his eyes closing in on you in any room that you’re in is not fair.
Instead, you nod. And you swear to yourself that you’ll swallow this sickening lump in your throat that makes you want to hurl and sob at the same time. That you’ll bury it deep in a graveyard within you that even the closest person to you would never know of. Especially him.
“I don’t want it, either,” you snort back, immediately perking up to slap his back in what results in a jolt. His shoulders tense as he blinks wide at you, unsure of the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I don’t want feelings that belong to someone else, dumbass.”
Once it sinks in that you mean it, a smile finds its way onto his face, though something flickers beneath it, like a flash of something you don’t want to look too far into.
Not because you still had hope, but because whatever existed between you had never been something as simple as a crush. It had roots—tangled deep into your souls and impossible to pull free without tearing something open. You wanted to keep what was left. Even if it lingered just a little longer, and even if you pretended not to see the splintering strands in the string tying you together.
So you let it settle. Let it rot somewhere you couldn’t feel it.
The two of you fall into the kind of closeness that you’ve always had, and time passes as if it was always meant to be this way. It’s easier this way. For a while, it does work, but nothing ever really stays under wraps. Despite your incessant protests in telling yourself it’s fading, the scars he’s inflicted on you are just that. Scars. Unmoving yet subtle.
The thinning thread finally snaps a few years later, when MC develops feelings for a coworker in the Hunter’s Association. The day the cracks in the glass bridge holding you together shatter beneath your feet into a million different pieces.
“When’s the last time you’ve slept?”
He’s sprawled shirtless on the couch of his apartment in Skyhaven, freshly out of the shower after you arrived to visit him for the first time in months—only to see that he’s nearly overworking himself to death. Despite him going off to the DAA after college, you’d kept close contact, the connection between the two of you never wavering regardless of your restricted time. It only changed after news of MC broke out. Worried, you’d rushed to Skyhaven to make sure he was doing okay, which you’re clearly glad you did now. You’d practically had to drag him to the shower to keep him from passing out next to the front door in his gear.
Caleb, clearly, is off. You suppose you don’t blame him. The woman he loves is yearning for another. Almost poetic, really, but you don’t like seeing him this way. Especially when you know what it feels like yourself, even if you’ve gotten used to it. Gotten over it. He looks like a kicked puppy. Hurt, like a dog who’s just been scratched by its owner.
“I dunno.”
You peer into the empty abyss that is his fridge and frown. There’s a few measly apples sitting inside, and a half-eaten protein bar that’s been there for god knows how long. “What the hell have you been eating?”
He responds with a grunt, letting his head fall back against the sofa. You decide to make do with the instant noodles he has stashed in one of the cupboards and bring it over to him once it seems mostly done. With a fork, you stick out a few noodles to his face, urging him. “Eat.”
“Not hungry,” he mutters.
“Don’t care. Sit up.”
He opens one of his eyes to peek at you, which somehow urges him forward. There’s darkness beneath his eyes—even stubble littering his chin from a few days worth of not shaving. You want to reach out and poke fun at him, but the state he’s in deters you. Instead, you silently feed him, watching him chew his food while staring at your hands. It makes you wish you put on a fresh set of polish before you came.
You twirl another small forkful and hold it out. He leans forward this time without being told, taking it quietly. His shoulder brushes yours as he settles back against the couch, and you can feel his skin through your shirt.
“Thanks,” he mutters, voice rough from disuse more than anything. “For coming.”
“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t rot in here.”
He huffs a faint laugh, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Probably would’ve. Dramatic way to go out, huh?”
You nudge his knee with yours. “Starving to death in your own apartment? Real heroic.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. It makes your heart flutter. Stupid feelings.
“…thanks for coming, splints,” he says.
Your chest tightens—sharp and sudden. It feels like it’s threatening to feel something that’s not yours to feel. So instead, you look down at the bowl, pretending to focus on separating another bite. You twirl your fork, more carefully this time. “I had to. You weren’t responding, so I thought you died, or something. Open.”
He rolls his eyes, but obeys anyway. “Bossy.”
“Learned from the best.”
His lids flutter shut, voice dropping to a lower hum. “I missed this.”
Your hand stills. “What?”
He shrugs, eyes still closed. “You being here.”
His hair is sticking to his forehead, still damp from the shower. Before you realize what you’re doing, you brush a stray strand of hair off his forehead. You speak quietly. “You look like shit.”
“Wow,” he mutters. “You have a way with words.”
You frown, and without thinking, your hand lingers at his temple for just a second longer than it should. His skin is warm, still hot from the shower.
“Idiot,” you whisper.
He catches your wrist. Not tight, not stopping you. Simply holding it there for a moment that feels too long and not long enough at once. Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and then you’re looking away, setting the mostly finished bowl of noodles onto the coffee table to pull away.
“Don’t make this a habit. I’m not flying out here every time you forget to eat.”
“Could,” he murmurs. “You would.”
You don’t respond to that, because he’s not wrong.
“…Is she okay?”
It slips out of him like instinct. Like breathing. And just like that, everything shifts. You don’t answer right away—instead, your fingers tighten slightly around the fork.
“She’s fine,” you say eventually. Leave it, you plead in your head.
“Did she say anything?” he asks, sitting up a little more now. There’s something in his eyes, like he’s searching. “When you talked to her.”
You shrug, trying to keep your tone even. “Just normal stuff.” Stop, you think. Please stop talking.
“Like what?”
“Like her job. Her grandma. Nothing serious.” Shit.
He frowns slightly. “She didn’t mention him?”
There it is. It’s always about her.
You know he’s in a vulnerable spot right now, but it does nothing to ease the sudden flame roaring in your chest. Whether it’s from years of repressed hurt or shame, all it amounts to is a relentless ball of rage inside of you that leaves your nails digging crescents into the palms of your hands. You stare at him, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you inch away from him.
“Does it matter?”
Caleb’s face relaxes. “What?”
“Why does it matter what she thinks about him? She likes him, end of story, no?”
“I just want to know if he’s a decent guy.”
Your ass. “That’s not really your business, Caleb, but sure. He’s a great guy. Amazing, honestly. He’s really gentlemanly and checks every single box. He lives above her apartment, so they’re right next to each other. He treats her gently, too. I’d bet every girl would jump at a chance to date a guy like that.”
You’re not sure where the words are tumbling out of, but it’s too late to go back. Neither do you want to.
“I wonder if he has a brother. Maybe MC could set me up or something.”
“Oh. Is he…” Caleb’s back straightens, and you notice his fingers digging into his thighs. “...handsome?”
“Didn’t you hear me? I’m telling you, he’s perfect. His face could pay for the Linkon rent by itself.”
He suddenly stands, and you glare up at him through your eyebrows. “Why are you talking like that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scoff.
He narrows his eyes. It’s something you haven’t seen in a while, since Caleb rarely gets upset at you. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, splints.”
“Can you just spit it out? What am I saying differently?”
“You’re angry.”
You stand, following suit. He looms over you to have his shadow essentially engulf you, and you wish you could kick his ankle so he falls to the ground. “Maybe if you weren’t so irritating, I wouldn’t feel so annoyed right now.”
“What?”
“It’s hard to watch, Caleb,” you hiss out in exasperation, throwing your hands into the air. “It’s always pipsqueak this, pipsqueak that, pipsqueak what. Seriously, we’re not kids anymore, you need to get over it!”
You’re not sure if you’re talking to him or yourself anymore.
“Can we calm down and talk? If I’ve been talking too much about it, I can stop, so—”
“We haven’t seen each other in months, Caleb! And all you want to ask me about is how she’s been? Why don’t you ask her yourself, if you’re so curious? Oh, but you can’t, because you always have to be perfect in front of her. So instead, you dump all of this on me. Your goods and bads, all of it, just for me to get kicked to the curb like I’m some dispensable object.”
“What?” his balks. “Dispensible? Are you serious? As if I haven’t gotten you out of every little thing you’ve gotten yourself into the past decade of our lives? As if I haven’t picked you up every weekend from your friends’ places at three in the morning? Like I haven’t called you every single week—”
“Well, I want you to stop that!” your words spit at him like weak knives, growing louder by the second.
“You didn’t seem very against it the last forty times.”
“I am now.”
“What has gotten into you, splints?”
“Don’t call me that right now,” you glower, and you try to ignore the hurt flashing across his expression. “I’m just sick of seeing you follow her around like some wet dog. She doesn’t see you like that, can’t you see that?”
Your breathing begins to stutter, and you suck in a deep breath through your nose. Your chest stings, and you pray that you don’t lose composure so the tears threatening to bubble at the corners of your eyes remain hidden.
“You told me that you couldn’t give me what I wanted. Well, she can’t either,” you bore holes into his chest, too afraid of what you might see if you look up. “If I can get over my stupid feelings, so can you.”
But you’re not over it. Not at all.
He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. For the first time in a while, you’ve rendered him speechless, and it feels even worse than what it felt to be rejected years ago. You’re not sure how your nails haven’t drawn blood at this point. You’d rather that they do, so you have some excuse to use the restroom.
“It’s not fair what you do, Caleb,” you try to will your tears to stay at bay, but you can’t help them. They sting, blurring your vision as you drop your head in some pathetic hope that he won’t face them head on. “How you treat me when you don’t like me like that is not fair. At least MC doesn’t know, but you—you know, and yet you—”
The rational part of you says that it’s not entirely his fault. Sure, you insisted on staying by his side. Sure, you insisted that you could push down your feelings. Sure, you’ve promised a lot of things, but it’s his fault too, for being the way he is—so kind, so thoughtful, just so him.
You wipe desperately at your tears. It was a lost cause from the start.
“Please don’t cry.” His face drains of color, apparent even against the dim lighting in his apartment. He steps towards you, and you take a step back. “Please don’t cry, splints, just not that.”
But when your tears refuse to cease dripping down your cheeks, your face flushing in humiliation, you feel both his hands cupping either side of it. He tilts your gaze up, and you realize that he’s only inches away from you, so much so that you can feel his breath against your skin. It’s moments like these that you lose yourself in his beauty. The deepness of his eyes that seem to peer into your very soul is one of the first features that you fell in love with as a child, and it hasn’t changed since. Damn him. You blink, eyes wide while his own flicker to your lips.
“Be as mad as you want. Hit me, hate me even,” he whispers, his nose almost touching yours now. His thumb pad smooths your tears away. “But don’t waste your tears on someone like me.”
You think you might be imagining things. Because with the tension that nearly suffocates you and his lashes almost fluttering against your skin, you think he might be about to kiss you.
A sharp pain jabs you in the chest. Is it pity? A consolation prize dressed up as something softer? Is it to smooth things over, to make this moment easier for him to leave behind? Or is it rebellion? Something reckless from the fact that he can’t have her? Your tears have dried up, but the rest of your body seems to weep, as no excitement, no butterflies course through your veins.
Why is it always something else? Why is it never you? It only hurts—because even now, you’re just the place he empties everything he feels for her.
Instinctively, you press your palm into his lips to push him away, and it feels like the air itself has stilled.
His breath lingers against your skin. Yours stutters like it’s forgotten how to exist in the same space as him. The air is so thick you could slice it with a knife.
Eventually, he pulls away. Caleb stares at you with an expression you haven’t seen before, though you don’t look long enough to analyze it. Wordlessly, you gather your things, stuffing your jacket into your bag and stumble over to the door—all while he stays locked in a petrified state, like he’s processing what he just did. Your gaze remains fixated on the wooden panels of the floor while you pack, refusing to look any higher in case you might see anything other than his feet.
“Don’t follow me,” you tell him as you leave.
You don’t wait to see if he hears you.
The journey home feels like there’s a gaping hole in your chest, and all you can do is stare out the window as you feel the vibrations of the train through your fingertips. Outside, the world blurs past in streaks of dim lights and shadowed shapes, and you wish that your feelings were as fleeting as the buildings blurring by.
You try to count the number of trees you see. Not on the warmth of his breath against your palm. Not on how close he’d been. Not on the fact that, for a second, you almost let him.
If you hadn’t pushed him away, would it have meant anything? Or would you have just been a mistake he’d regret in the morning?
Your phone buzzes frantically in your pocket, and you pull it out to see his name in big bold letters. He’s texting you simultaneously, apologizing in so many different ways that they all start to blend into one message you don’t plan on reading. You refuse to give into what your heart wants. It’s hurt you too much in the past. So instead, your thumb hovers above the ‘mute’ button.
You press it and shut your eyes.
Even if it’s difficult to adjust the first few weeks without him, you can’t bear to face him either. He shows up at your door. Nearly every day for some time, knocking softly and asking if you’d be willing to talk. When you simply plug in your earbuds and bury yourself into your bed, he apologizes through the door and leaves you something to eat. You tend to throw it out at first, but after a while, you figure it’s just a waste. Just like that, a month goes by. And then another. Then another. Until you can’t count them on one hand anymore. He comes by once every two weeks or so now, likely busy with his work.
Despite how much your body seems to miss his presence, you wonder if you should distance Caleb permanently. It’s a daunting idea. One that you never would’ve thought just a few years ago, but the embarrassment runs deeper than you want to admit. The feelings you’ve tried so hard to hide clearly aren’t hidden. Is this sustainable?
Regardless of what you think, he comes around like clockwork.
“Are you in there?” He knocks gently on your door, voice soft. He probably knows you are.
“No.”
He chuckles from the other end. “Right. Happy birthday, splints.”
You glance at your phone calendar. He’s right.
As usual, he begins to talk about random events in his life that he hasn’t had the opportunity to tell you, and while you usually muffle it out, you decide to quietly shuffle over to the door today. To tell him, maybe, that you don’t want to keep doing this. Or maybe just to hear his voice, you don’t know. Either way, you slide your back down the door where he’s on the other side, pulling your knees into your chest.
“I don’t know if you’ve read my text, but–”
“I don’t read them.”
Caleb stops, and you can almost hear his breath hitch. You usually don’t give him more than a few words, much less a full sentence, so it seems to have taken him aback. After the brief remission, you hear him clear your throat. “Splints, can you open the door? I want to talk—apologize to you.”
Silence.
“Or I can do it out here. That’s fine,” he sighs. “I want you to know that it’s okay if you want to hate me forever after this. I won’t keep clinging to you if you at listen to what I have to say, but I really just—I need to say that this is my fault.”
You half-heartedly hear his words drone on, his confidence wavering every so often while you pull up his chats on your phone. You have no idea how you hadn’t folded and read his chats until now, though it might’ve been more so for your own peace than anything. There’s too many to scroll up to, so you read the most recent messages, squinting in the dark against the light of your phone.
[1:41PM]
[caleb]: are you eating well?
[caleb]: i made this today
[caleb]: [image attached]
[caleb]: your favorite dishes :) i’ll drop them off at your place later
[caleb]: i hope you’re not just throwing them out…wouldn’t blame you tho
[caleb]: at least take care of yourself :)
[8:13AM]
[caleb]: hi splints :)
[caleb]: you probably watched it already but that movie you wanted to see came out a week ago. I went to go see it
[caleb]: i still think it’s kind of bad…but it was entertaining
[caleb]: unless you wanna argue about it ?? :3
[5:32PM]
[caleb]: ranked first today
[caleb]: i was excited to celebrate it with you and then remembered :/
[caleb]: it doesn’t feel as good when i can’t tell you lol
[caleb]: hope you’re okay
[11:23PM]
[caleb]: i wish i hadn’t been so stupid
[caleb]: i didn’t deserve you back then
[caleb]: i still don’t
[caleb]: i shouldn’t have lost my cool when you were over here. didn’t like hearing you talk about that guy like that
[caleb]: im sure he’s a good looking guy, and i know you’re particularly weak to good looking guys…
[caleb]: i was being childish and i wish i could’ve explained it to you then
[caleb]: i know you don’t owe me anything and you don’t have to listen to what i have to say
[caleb]: but i never wanted to make you feel used, and i never did. if that even sounds believable lol
[caleb]: it was never about her
[caleb]: there’s so much more i want to say but i’ll say it in person
[caleb]: miss you a lot
[caleb]: sleep tight
You wish the tightness in your chest would go away. You wish you didn’t feel his sorrow through him. And you wish you didn’t care about your own feelings for him.
“I love you, splints,” he murmurs, and your attention tears away from the chats, your phone nearly clattering onto the floor. Your eyes widen, suddenly regretting that you missed the first half of his speech.
“Not in the way you say it to your friends, or the way you say it to family. You’re my life, and you’ve been my life since the day you gave me that ring. I care for MC, but what I feel for you is different. It’s always been different. I realized that years ago, but I was afraid that it wouldn’t be fair for you. I thought you deserved someone better than someone who doesn’t know how to understand their own feelings.” Your throat dries. “I thought it wasn’t fair because I’d already put you through so much.”
“At the same time, I’m a selfish guy, you know? I couldn’t let you go either, because I couldn’t bear to see you with someone else. I wanted it to be us, and the only way I could think of existing without feeling like I was ruining you was to stay how we were. Stagnant, I guess,” he chuckles, but it feels sad. Weak. “I’m an idiot when it comes to you, you know.”
You don’t respond.
Not because you don’t have anything to say—if anything, there’s too much. It crowds your throat, every word scraping against the next until none of them can make it out. Your fingers hover uselessly over your phone, screen still lit with a conversation you can’t even remember reading.
‘I love you.’
The words echo, but they don’t land the way you once dreamed they would. They don’t bloom or soften or fix anything. They just sit. Too heavy. Too late.
Your chest tightens, aching outward like it’s trying to break free. Because you’ve wanted this—God, you’ve wanted this—for so long that you stopped letting yourself imagine it could ever actually happen. It should feel like relief. Instead, it feels real, but fragile.
Because you remember too much. The almosts. The waiting. The way you learned how to swallow your emotions when he built a wall between the two of you—and that doesn’t disappear just because he finally found the words.
Your hand curls slightly against the door, fingers brushing the cool surface.
Even with all that, you still miss the warmth of his skin. How his hair felt through a towel as you dried it. How he’d flick your forehead when you’d get a question wrong during one of his tutoring sessions. How he’d tease you about your grades or interests, and learn more about them anyway. How he’d message you throughout the day about random endeavors. How he’d always be there. How with just a call of his name, he would’ve crossed the continents for you. His eyes. His lips. His face. His painfully handsome face.
You remember him in all parts of your life—and not a single moment you’ve spared has gone without him. You remember how he held your hand when you’d broken your arm, and the way he’d lifted you into the air and embraced you when you were accepted into the same college as him. You remember how he’d pet your hair as you complained about him going too far for the DAA, promising he’d visit often. And he did. He always kept his promises.
Your body moves on its own, as if this was how it was always meant to be. The door slowly creaks open.
“…We’re a mess.”
A faint, tired smile is all you can give him. Still, when he sees you, the world seems to stop for just the two of you, and it takes him a moment to fully register that you’re really there. That you’re not just a figment of his imagination, and he hasn’t truly lost you forever as he’d feared. “This doesn’t mean you’re completely out of the woods. I’m still mad.”
“You should be,” he whispers out, nearly breathless.
Hesitantly, you step towards him. He reaches his arm out, brows furrowed cautiously like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to even blink right now. The tips of his fingers twitch towards you. You raise a brow, and he swallows the lump in his throat, retracting back until you nod.
Realizing you don’t have shoes, you step onto the fronts of his shoes one foot at a time, taking his hand until you’re flush against him and he’s already engulfing you into a crushing embrace. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm. He smells good. Though you can’t confidently say the same for yourself given the state you’re in, he drops his chin into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, like a man starved.
“Note to self,” you mumble. “Don’t propose to any handsome guy you see.”
Caleb laughs, airy this time, and you feel it against your collarbone. “I thought you were going to leave your husband out here to die in the cold.”
“I should divorce you. We’re not even married yet.”
He grins, lopsided. “You should.”
“I won’t.”
“I know.
You bury your face into his chest, fingers digging into the fabric on his back. “I don’t want a version of my life without you, Caleb. As annoying as you are.”
He pulls away for a brief moment and places a kiss on your cheek, his own dusting red. Flowers feel like they’re blooming on the spot he pecked, but somehow, it feels natural. You’ve always been close to him physically throughout your upbringing, even if it never involved lips–that was new territory. You cross your arms, relying on his hands around your waist to keep you upright. “Tell me more.”
“You nag too much.”
He kisses your nose. “Hm?”
“You’re emotionally repressed.”
“Ouch.” He kisses your temple.
“You’re too good at things you don’t try at.”
Your jawline.
“You’re unstable. You’re too protective. You’re stupid.”
“I love you,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips hover above your own, just centimeters away.
Your lashes flutter against his. “Then prove it to me.”
“I will,” he whispers, just as his mouth slots against yours, and a warmth blooms throughout your chest. You melt into him, like you always have and you always will. “I’ll prove it to you for the rest of my life.”
୨୧ — Caleb's palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek, smearing salt and sweat. "Pipsqueak, I…" he murmurs, guilt flickering across his features as he takes in your wrecked state- cum smeared thighs, your puffy, fucked out hole still weeping his seed onto the already wrecked sheets... body absolutely limp. "Shit. I went too far."
You try to reassure him, to push a weak 's'okay', but all that comes out is a garbled, wet mumble, your throat still raw from screaming and stuffed full of his cock earlier.
His knuckles brush a damp strand of hair from your temple, the touch startlingly soft after the bruising grip he'd used hours earlier. "Don't move a muscle," he orders before pressing a feather light kiss to your sweaty forehead, "not one."
He vanishes into the bathroom- click of the light, hiss of running water before returning with a warm washcloth.
The first swipe across your collarbone is heaven as he works with focused gentleness that steals your breath- wiping the mascara that threatens to stain your cheeks, the pearly streaks from your belly the, and the slick mess from your inner thighs. His thumb grazes your swollen folds, making you jolt. "Shhh. Hold still," he says softly, dabbing with infinite care at your tender, reddened flesh, "i've got you."
As he tends to you, his gaze fall on something in the corner of the bed. A small smile tugs at his lips as he reaches for the worn plush frog piloting a plane- a silly gift he gave you months ago that has somehow become a fixture in your shared space.
"Look who's here," he says, voice warm and playful as he makes the stuffed frog bob and weaves in front of your nose. "Mr. Frog was worried about you."
Despite your exhaustion, a smile breaks across your face. Caleb presses the little green pilot against your cheek in a playful "kiss", the childish gesture so at odds with the man who just fucked you senseless that you can't help but giggle. "Caaaleb," you finally manage, swatting at him weakly, "I'm okay." You nuzzle at Mr. Frog affectionately before looking up at Caleb, "We're both okay." and you feel how his arms lock tighter around you- not restraining, just anchoring.
His shoulders seem to release tension he didn't even know he was carrying as he gives you a gentle smile… his palm spreading protectively over where his daughter grows within you. "Both," he repeats softly, wonder and relief painting his voice as his thumb continues its gentle circles on your belly.
He stretches out beside you, gathering your tired body against his chest, his lips brushing your forehead as he pulls the blankets over you both. "My girls." he whispers with quiet happiness, and you feel his chin rest gently atop your head as he tucks the covers around your shoulders.
84 years later and i finally expanded on this.
tw: nsfw, implied sub-space
sylus likes you like this: blissed out and pliant under his touch; all your reluctance in letting him spoil you gone. the weight of your legs over his shoulders and the heat of your body under him as you are pressed against his. he traces the curse breaker mark on your ribcage and delight in the way you shiver — amused and challenged at your silence still.
he’s used to the way you are silent in the bedroom, savors the barely there whimpers and gasps that you don’t swallow down in time. but not tonight. not after the stunt you pulled, putting your life on the line when he told you to stay back. his thumb brushes the mark again, too deliberate for it to be an accident causing you to wiggle out of his grasp.
“sy—, ah”, your voice breaks, instinctively turning away from his touch. he can’t have that; you trying to move away. “that— that tickles.” your voice pitched higher than normal, the telltale sign of you falling into a headspace both of you never acknowledge.
he’s being strategic — cheating, you’d chastise him if you knew his intentions — he knows the mark is one of your sensitive places. but the warmth of you isn’t enough to convince him you’re still here, that he had got to you in time and you’re still breathing with him. alive and real.
you had put up your body as a shield to miss hunter’s bullet.
if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes & his evol, he’d have felt your blood on his skin.
alas, he had smirked for his audience of one as he pushed you aside, the bullet pulverized in thin air. “finally learned to pull the trigger, did you?”
he had watched you retreat to where luke and kieran is in the shadows, as he tried to resonate with miss hunter. but later, after the failed attempts, after he had brushed the imaginary lint from his shoulder to leave her alone, the twins had told him you’ve gone to your room.
no one under his care dies on his watch. he presses a kiss to your neck, and opens his mouth to taste the salt of your skin. maybe if he gives you his mark right now, you’d remember that.
———
you’re a curse breaker. in this world and the next, you see lines connecting people. you discern stories from what you see. once, sylus asks you what it’s like and you tell him it’s a hindrance to watching a movie in the theatre — all glowing and bright; the lights might not as well be dimmed.
that week he rents an entire movie theatre and asks you to watch a recent release you’ve been wanting to watch in a while. when you point out that both of you could have stayed at the base with his home theater, he shrugsand says, “you wanted to watch one in a theater, no?”
in that dark room with only his tapestry of red glowing at the corner of your eye, you tell him, “it’s probably like your eye. you see people’s desires; i see people’s hatred in neon colors all the time.”
but not all curses are born out of hate. sometimes the cruelest ones are born out of love. it’s why the energy to create the linkage is strong enough to withstand efforts to break it.
the more you love someone, the worse the betrayal.
you never tell him about the black line sprouting from his chest. you suspect he already knows.
———
when you come to, you’re tucked under his arms, his hand rubbing mindless circles on your shoulder. the occasional kiss or two to the top of your head. you catalogue the fresh sheets under you, the tender but clean flesh of your body, rid of sweat and fluids, knowing he had cleaned you up, and sink into the warmth of his body heat.
he hums a nonsensical tune. the vibration of his voice grounds you more than the sound itself. you still feel a bit floaty, hazy; the world a bit softer on the edges and a need to be cocooned in warmth. a feeling of vulnerability you can’t quite place that arises after being with him so you seek his other hand, the one holding a book for him to read and thread your fingers together instead.
“someone’s feeling greedy,” he teases without heat, even if he relinquishes the book back to the bedside table without you asking. still you squeeze his hand hard in retaliation because as much as you’d like to pinch him,you don’t want to lose any contact you have with him right now. “and a need to stretch out their claws,” he adds in amusement.
both of you never talk about it — the person you become under him and the person that emerges after — and you trust him to take care of you because he always do. indulges you with quiet moments like this as if business doesn’t knock on his doors, like you both have forever in the confines of his room.
“what time is it?” your words still slur a bit, voice so timid in any other time you hate how small you sound.
“early enough for you to rest,” he commands, planting it to the top of your head. “so rest.”
and you want to. god, you want to. to believe this moment is yours to hold and stretch and bind to your soul. but you know it’s just you. a side effect of waking up from the haze of intimacy: lengthening everything in a rose-tinted lens.
because sylus likes to lie and you endure it.
pretty, beautiful, sweetheart — echoes of compliments you wish he could take back because it’s all a lie. you want to tell him to stop because it’s cruel to ply you with sweet nothings he’s just saying for the act of it, but maybe for tonight, you can soak it in, believe maybe a part of him means it because the only time his reverence doesn’t sting is the one time your brain stops thinking what ifs.
it must be why you can’t stop the words from tumbling out, why you call out his name and when he answers with a hum, it would be your greatest regret to continue. “why don’t we run away?”
his chuckle is a beat late. you know the answer even if he refuses to say it, choosing to entertain you instead. “where to?”
“anywhere,” you reply though your heart isn’t in it anymore. when you look back to this moment in the future, you’ll feel the prickle of humiliation at how desperate you must sound. the only thing you did right was feigning sleep after and not holding him from leaving the bed when a call comes through his phone.
————-
some curses are hereditary or ancient — a passed down line that turns paler with each generation when the original emotion has been weathered down with time; some are shimmery and translucent reds they look more pale pinks than anything else when it’s inflicted halfheartedly like jokes between friends or harmful intent that comes to pass once the other person forgives the other. the latter will usually fade with time.
no one knows what the curse is from looking at the colors, only the severity of it. the deeper the red, the more harmful it is, and if it’s black, well there’s a reason poison labels are that color.
when the twins brought miss hunter to the base, you saw the black line that tethered them together. a caster and its captor and a gun. your lack of hesitation to throw yourself in front of its trajectory selfishly. you only know you don’t want to watch him die.
you heard sylus talk once about not being able to die, not until his beloved kills him, over the surveillance feed in the control room, where you were stationed for a mission he wanted you to tag along for to evaluate some artifacts for any lingering residual resentment on them while giving him and the twins a heads-up should someone sneakily come up to them. cursed objects with protocores tend to be more volatile and unpredictable after all.
you remember his mocking tone right before he disintegrates the captive and their weapon into dust. the cynical, self-assured voice tethered with grief and anger. you never want to hear it again.
————-
“what’s wrong?” you set aside the popcorn and pause the movie the minute you notice a shift in the air. you’re on your weekly (well, weekly is a bit of a stretch given both of your schedules) movie night when his pager beeps. the twins. if the mission was a success, they should be en route home by now.
instead of answering, he grabs his jacket draped on the next seat and pulls up his terminal on his phone, typing away as he turns to leave. mephisto’s footage coming into view on the screen. “keep watching the movie,” he says, dismissively.
you suppress a sigh as you stand, scurrying after him. “for someone who claims to be above everything, you’re a terrible liar.”
he frowns. “what are you doing?”
“going with you, of course,” you move past him to the secret compartment on the wall next to the vase and grab your favorite weapon. there are plenty around the house. you and the twins made a game out of who can find the most in one night which you suppose is n109’s version of scavenger hunts. sylus had given all of you his version of the stink eye because now everything had to be put back and cleaned. no one slept a wink that night and for all his surliness, he had given everyone an impromptu workshop on how to clean weapons properly. his patience when the twins mess up, the slightest hint of shyness peaking through when he’s about to go on a tangent over which bore brush, which oil works best for which gun when one of you asked, probably, maybe won you over as much as you can be won. it was a side of him that was novel to you, a softer contrast to when you had first met him: self-assured, confident, a glowing red eye that makes you think ah, he’s as greedy to take in the world as you are.
that night in the living room with your hands grimy with oil after a clumsy spill, him concentrating on his current weapon, and the twins flitting around him like hummingbirds. you envied him as much as you were intrigued by him at first sight with the number of red lines attached to him where not even the most controversialpublic figure had that many. because what terrible things had he committed to garner such wrath many times over? how could he stand so tall even with hatred surrounding him and still let love in? you had wished to own that self-assuredness for yourself to face the world, to still let light in, and next to luke and kieran, he’s kind, he’s loved, and you added another ounce of your envy for him: that he had remained gentle through cruelty, and then you decided, when he had looked at kieran with barely restrained pride, you wanted to protect him, this version of him, in whatever way you could.
and that means, the twins back to safety in the present. at his silence, you add, “what? you promised you’ll watch the entire before sunrise trilogy with me. ’m not letting you skip that.”
you grab the keys for the jeep on the drawer for good measure and throw it for him to catch. the forecast mentioned rain earlier and it’s the one you’re sure has first aid replenished from a recent run. “come on. you’re driving as always.”
he chuckles as he catches up to you. “has anyone ever told you how demanding you are?”
“why, did you hear something?” you quip, letting him open the door as you walk past him.
in the car later where the twins are patched up and safe and dozing away their medication, you think of the twins’ relief at seeing sylus and start drafting plans of how to make sure he lives despite that death curse should he and his beloved one day cross paths. books to track, people to visit. the car rolls to a stop under a red light and you jerk out of your stupor at the touch of his hand on your cheek.
dried blood you didn’t even realize was there linger on his fingers and the moment breaks when the light turnsand the car moves, but at a different intersection, as the lights whizz past you, he says, “thank you.”
the words are clumsy and quiet compared to luke’s steady snoring in the background. his knuckles tense on the steering wheel, for what you don’t understand. the lingering anxiety and anger, maybe, from saving the twinsand paying back the ones who hurt them. a slow drizzle starts splattering the windshield matching the beat of your heart. “mm,” you hum, “don’t mention it.” n109’s roads are as bright as ever with its various led screens. a commercial on the latest tablet is playing and blurring into splotches of watercolor before the wipers swipe it into clarity again. something inside of you is buzzing. you drum it into something slower on the button that willroll down your windows. maybe the rain can cool you down with how warm you feel but you don’t want to get wet. “we’re rewatching the trilogy from the first one by the way.”
sensing his complaint, you add, “it’s called a marathon. not a start and pause.”
he shakes his head and presses the pedal. “you’re unbelievable.”
————-
curse-breaking is a lost art. no one really does it by trade. some might sell their services online, but at most, it’s a parody and a scam. true cases you’ve seen require either the caster to retract it, or a payment equivalent to fulfill the curse. like a vessel that’ll absorb the curse that you purposefully redirect it to so the balance in the universe is still upheld. even then, it doesn’t guarantee it would break such is the finicky thread of human emotions.
still, you’ve enjoyed reading stories about curses, historical accounts of curse breaking you can find amusement in at its inaccuracy to pass the time perhaps because life has marked you as one who can break it.
you’ve never done it nor study it. in a modern time, where most people think curses don’t actually exist, no one really has a need to learn the ancient arts. it’s a dying breed, but you know of a shop that trades knick-knacks fronting as a place for curse-breakers to apprentice. your mark burns sharper as you get closer to the shop, like some sort of twisted pied piper’s song for curse-breakers to be lured into which was how you found the shop years ago.
the sting dissipates when you step into the shop. truly, you grumble, what kind of wickedness do curse-breakers inherently possess?
no one is in the counter to your left spanning the length of the shop. you step in further, taking note of the rows and rows of jewels, pendants, amulets, signet rings on the display case, and the locked wooden drawers making up the wall behind it. you notice none of the objects in the shop emit a faint glow nor are there lines running throughout the shop. it’s blissfully clean. apprentice work, probably. you’ve never actually looked around the first time you stumbled into the shop and a woman with black hair had looked at you knowingly right before you turned tail and ran back into the night, your mark a dull pain on your ribs.
the door in the back of the shop with a frosted glass pane cracks open as you admire a magnifying glass, and a woman with white hair in a long gown walks out.
“she bet you would come back,” the white-haired woman says as she approaches you. instinctively, you take a step backwards. you’ve never cared about this power of yours, not when it seemed futile to care when people are careless with words and intentions when their emotions run high. it’s a sisyphean cycle with no reward to break curses that will eventually form the minute you look away over petty disagreements. you have no tolerance for it, but now, maybe, maybe it’s worth tapping into and in this shop, you can sense it means something to them. this power.
“would you be able to help me?” you force yourself to look into her eyes, black as the night outside.
a smile slants her face. “only if you can pay the price.”
————-
“tell me again,” sylus says. the movie drags on, the technicolor lights mapping the shadow of his face. truthfully, you’ve checked out from the movie five scenes ago when the characters start brawling in plain daylight. you have no tolerance to view plain hostility like that. the last movie you watched about wrestlers, you asked sylus if they were accurate in hopes to avoid looking at flying fists, and he had said to come to his boxing match to judge for yourself. you did and it solved nothing, and he had laughed when you told him about your observation, which is really stellar of him and much preferable than the version of him sitting next to you. “what is it like?”
the red lines around him are uncountable that it becomes its own canvas of red, but the black thread stands out just the same. you can dismiss it as a trick of the light, but it’s lighter in shade today, more maroon than outright black and you swallow your questions away. “you see people’s desires; i see people’s hatred in neon colors all the time.”
he looks at you then, one eye glowing and you let him read you even the parts you don’t understand yourself. a moment passes, the scene on the screen changes as the light flickering in his face dims. “take what you need,” he says.
maybe it’s what you both need after a close call of almost losing each other if luke and kieran were a split second too late to the extraction point. it’s mostly just the need to know the other is alive, you’re sure, nothing more and nothing less. you think about crossing the line and weigh it against your own need to know he is still alive against your own hands, how his way of offering comfort is also his way of asking for his own. you’ll let him consume you, you think, anything. “only if you do the same.”
————-
the price, it turns out, is just a lot of money and time. to research, to track an object, to be discreet and plan everything between your missions with sylus or the twins. it’s a pet project, of course, to find out how to break his curse. he never expressed it and you’ve never pushed; none of your conversations ever address his curse and eye or if you have tried breaking a curse instead of just seeing them. but if one day he wanted it gone, at least you’d have an option ready in the first place. something you can brush away as a birthday gift, if he ever asked, courtesy of a curse-breaker.
the shop had told you about the existence of a jade dagger, one carved millenniums ago, said to be auctioned where you currently are tonight helping out miss hunter and sylus’ joined mission. you’re not privy to the details of what they are looking for, but you set it aside to look for the dagger on the second floor of the auction halls after doing a sweep of the place. this has been a reoccuring theme – sylus and miss hunter going on missions – a tentative partnership, he had assured you when you ask if it was a wise decision to let the hunter’s association know about his whereabouts. you had taken it in stride because you know to not ask, and so you have thrown yourself instead to tracking the dagger down and doing your own research about the curse.
and it had led you here, placing the highest bid on the jade dagger strapped under your dress. nobody had to know you strayed a bit from your mission. he had only told you to stand by and do your normal sweep of assessing what might be worth buying and you’ve added his name to the list of bids you think would be worth acquiring.
you check in with luke and kieran, amd quickly, move towards the first floor where both of them were last seen. the orchestra plays something lively. the dance has started then and the auction is winding down to a close.
you first met sylus at an auction, not much different than the one you’re currently viewing. at that time, you had stopped at a painting in display – a medieval looking one of a dragon with a sword sticking out of his chest, and a princess on the other end of it. the plaque reads: “a fiend’s doomsday” credited to unknown. it sits in the west wing next to the organ where he’d only play one song every time. you haven’t heard him play in a while. every time you gaze at the painting listening to him play, melancholy eats at you and the painting comes alive in your head like a scene out from a movie, not much different than what is in front of you now: miss hunter and sylus on the dance floor, her dress billowing behind her as he twirls her.
you slow to a stop at the bottom of the steps as the crowd parts around them. the jade digging slightly into the soft flesh of your thigh. they make a stunning pair and for a moment, you find yourself entranced as the music fades until you spot someone from the corner of your eye dashing somewhere and the rumble overhead feels ominous. you calculate where he should be and the time of possible impact. your eyes widen. “sy-” you shout, covers be damned, whipping your head around to pinpoint the flash of red. you stumble to stay upright through the impact reverberating as the ceiling crumbles.
the screams fade to nothing. there’s a commotion around you as the power cuts. dust stings your eyes and you take in the faint reds of curses floating around you not dimmed by the light. multiple shoulders jostle past you so do streaks of red and white and pinks but you stay rooted, the last syllable of his name falling into ash in your mouth.
there in the middle of the darkness is his aethercore glowing red. his red outline holding miss hunter close. the dark maroon line snaking down his chest to her wrist. invisible to everyone but you.
the dagger shifts under your dress, the handle digging into your thigh like a brand. heavy and awful. a stone.
you get it now. the warnings from the sisters in the shop. love is the strongest curse there is. the hesitation on their faces. perhaps, they were right. perhaps, he doesn’t want to be saved.
miss hunter screams at him something indignant, probably about how she can handle herself. you watch the emotions on his face, this look of amusement and assuredness. her ankle twists over something in the midst of backing away, the maroon line jerks and his arms like a puppet clasping her back to him. you tune everything out.
you follow the red threads of sylus’ and the many guests who did not make it out in time and the objects, most of which extends to outside the building, out of sight, to guide your way out the dark. you don’t remember the trek back home.
————-
at the forest clearing, the twins who had begged to come with the both of you on your excursion to the north is befriending the herd of sheep native to the area. a couple of the sheep runs away from luke, who is chasing them with his mask on. maybe, terrorizing would be a better word.
you sigh into your drink as you lounge on the swing nearby. “you really should teach your kids some manners.”
“they have manners,” his voice amused behind you, where you have ordered him to stand so he can provide extra shade from the sun. not that there’s any with the canopy of the tree over you, but he had humored you anyway. a stray sheep approaches the both of you, bleeting once it deems itself a safe distance from you. you can feel his eyebrows raising. “unlike this one.”
you bite back a laugh. it wouldn’t do to choke on your drink. “don’t be mean, sy,” you reach out a hand to pet the sheep who is nuzzling your knees, its wool soft to the touch. “he’s harmless.”
the sheep bleats in agreement. or maybe a call since some of his friends start trodding over.
“calling for reinforcements when we’ve both been harmless is not an ideal display of sportsmanship,” he tuts.
“and since when do you have a stellar sportsmanship?”
one of the sheep snorts in reply.
you burst out laughing, slightly startling the few sheep that has gathered itself near the both of you. sylus’ slight frown makes you laugh harder.
“here,” you take his hand and direct it to the baby sheep looking up at him. “why don’t you pet them so they know how strong you are and how you should not be messed with. restore your reputation.”
“i wasn’t aware i had a reputation to restore,” sylus drawls, despite lowering himself to pet the sheep tentatively like he’s afraid it would run away the second his hands touch it. another sheep nudges the one he’s petting, waiting for a turn, and then another joins in crowding his hand.
“i think you need to work harder or else you’ll be known as a softie,” you tease, content with the lone one who decides to stand next to you.
the quiet settles around both of you and you wonder if he’s as content as you are in this moment. if trying to give a world that make him happy, memories that are soft, would be enough to make him reconsider throwing his life away so recklessly each time he has a mission with miss hunter. you don’t own him, you know. whatever he chooses to do is beyond you, but still. “hey, sylus,” you say, the wind carrying your voice as you smile at him. “thanks for coming with me.”
you remember him about to say something in reply until mephie flies in with a piercing caw, scattering all the sheep away including the one under your touch. he fluffs his feather on his perch on sylus’ shoulders, puffing his chest up and you snort at the silly bird’s jealousy. “or i guess your bird can win that fight for you.”
you’re not sure why it’s this memory intruding your thoughts while you take off your earrings and start prepping for bed. maybe because it was the first trip you had planned with the knowledge that the efficacy of breaking a death curse relies on the bearer to want to live or have enough happy memories to decrease the strain a death curse’s residual might have on the body. how you had stupidly, naively, believe that maybe if you can start making more happy memories for him, it can lighten the severity of the curse. you had a stray thought it was an ulterior motive of the shop sisters telling you she needed someone to go up north and take care of her sheep; an alternative, less destructive path than what breaking a death curse would usually entail.
birthdays, outings, small things like surprising him with his favorite record or knitting mephie silly clothes to wear that you both can laugh at, you’re not the most expressive person and all of this is foreign to you, but you try you suppose. nothing too out of the ordinary of the rhythm you’ve established, of course, you don’t have the heart to stomach it and you don’t think he’ll be receptive to it. and between how the n109 never sleeps, the pockets of time together are rare. and this all had happened months before he’d wind up on your bed, forever cementing your loyalty to him in more ways than one. months before you’ll watch from the sidelines as he throws himself in front of every danger meant for miss hunter, and perhaps it’s why you can let go and accept that he’d choose death for his beloved over any semblance of living with you.
you wipe away the stray tear that comes unbidden. you don’t even know where it’s coming from when you had just finished your skin care. setting your skincare to the side, you’re about to call it a night when the door opens and sylus barges in, collar open and tie askew. “you left first.”
“mm,” you fake a yawn and a stretch before getting into your bed, trying to get away from the smell of her perfume. “i was a bit tired.”
you did come to the auction by yourself while sylus arrived with miss hunter to maintain their cover and leaving at separate times isn’t new to how your joint-missions can be. you’re not sure why he’s bringing this up now when all you want is to sleep this weird day off.
“what’s this?”
on his hands, the jade dagger the shop sisters have warned you about owning – the consequences it can leave you with, which you think is a bit redundant considering you’re dealing with a death curse. of course, it’d have consequences. still, it doesn’t matter in the end. “a pet project,” you offer instead, which is not a lie technically, and you do occasionally have bouts of getting into something. back when you would frequent his bed and both of your routines were predictable enough to expect movie nights, he’d make a quip about your little projects he’d notice. embroidery, painting, cello, gardening, the list is endless. it should be believable enough he’d drop it.
his gaze turns assessing to the open books on your desk. it’s nothing that will lead him to connect the dots; all the texts that mentioned the death curse you have returned to the shop after that night you had asked him if he’d run away with you out of desperation and stupidity. only a general book on artifacts are laid out, and a handful of scrolls in languages you know he’s not fluent in, which the shop sisters have taught you – curse-breaker language, they dub it. you watch him look back at the dagger on his hands, and hope he will leave your room soon. maybe you’ll hand the dagger to the shop as a gratitude gift since it no longer matters.
“i’m keeping this,” sylus declares, pocketing it into thin air, a smirk on his face.
“okay,” you agree, lying down on the bed and closing your eyes, tired and exhausted in ways you’re not sure why. it doesn’t matter. he can have it too.
you wait for his footsteps so maybe you can do something to ease the weird chasm on your chest. you’re not sure what would fix it either, this weird itch to excavate your heart outside of your body, but you know it’s not something you can do when he’s still here. you count your breaths, long enough for you to start drifting and wonder if maybe he’s left, only to feel the heat of his body covering the length of yours. his shadow falling over you.
slowly, you open your eyes and meet his scarlet ones staring back. the scent of her perfume burns. “what do you want, sylus?”
a dozen quips seems to flit his mind, searching for one to land, but in the end he says nothing to break the silence of the room.
you sigh as you reach out, unbuttoning the second button of his shirt, the next one, and the next. his gaze a weight you try to bear as you keep your hands steady, focusing on the expanse of skin revealed to you. he’s pliant to your touch, letting you peel his shirt off and fling it somewhere across the room. her scent gone with it, but not his gaze. you avert your eyes, mustering a smile, like this is an everyday occurrence, a dance you both know. “come sleep,” you blindly pat the space next to you. you think this will be the last time, where you let your longing flay you open. tomorrow, you’ll box all your feelings away and maybe do something to dislodge the weight in your chest. but right now, you wait and count the seconds before he sinks into his side of the bed, exhale the relief in your chest that you can still take his warmth for yourself one last time and sink into the warmth he cradles you in as you drift off to sleep.
————-
a storm warning was issued for civilians to stay clear from the roads, cutting your eta by half. based on the text, luke and kieran is hiding in the trees a mile away from where you’re standing. a forest borders the clearing and it’s where they’ve been helping with long range shots. boss’ orders, they said, since he was supposedly meant to go alone. it wouldn’t do to lose the upper hand so you trek by foot the remaining miles after abandoning your car to one side of the road and pinging your arrival. hopefully the rain would cover any lingering engine sounds.
it’s a desolate rundown landscape ahead of you. a mountain in the backdrop as the only sign of life; everything else a wasteland turned muddy with the torrential downpour. wild grass up to your knees.
you stumble on one body, then two, then spot two hunter associations’ vehicle — one belonging to miss hunter who is standing next to her partner with silver hair who bears a resemblance to lumiere, and a transport van you suspect is loaded with weapons and gadgets meant to subdue sylus, if the electrical charge in the air isn’t proof enough. the air feels evol-dampening; a new device they’ve made like an emp but for evols covering a large enough radius to weaken an enemy at the cost of weakening yourself. the driver is slumped over like she’s sleeping. you suspect it’s the twins’ work tampering with the electrical signalling of her comms to subdue her a little with some neurotech they were excited about a few weeks ago.
there are bodies everywhere. at least, the hunter’s association was smart enough to send a team and not one person to subdue him. at least he had put up a fight, a traitorous thought swims in the back of your head.
in the distance, you hear more siren sounds. reinforcements. you’re at a disadvantage due to the location since it doesn’t provide a lot of coverage. the only time you have an advantage to turn this around is if you finish this before the reinforcements are here, 15 minutes out you’d guess. you survey the scene using the van as cover:miss hunter’s partner stands behind sylus, two swords on his back, miss hunter in front of him. it would be simple, you bemoan in your head, if sylus is willing to fight one of the two who remains standing but knowing who is on the other side of it, you know he won’t. you aim for miss hunter’s neck with your tranquilizer dart, the twins’ newest invention where it sinks to a person’s skin seamlessly, only to get a sword embedded right next toyou in the next second. the metal sings near your ear and you tense at the close call.
at least, he has one weapon down, but you know the calmest ones in battle are the deadliest and his sword still earns him the advantage. on hand to hand, sylus and him would probably equal but with the sword, short range would be trickier. your cheek cuts open. what a fine blade, you think. the blood trickles your cheek. it’s better than getting pinned by your ear you suppose. miss hunter trains her gun to your direction.
it’s deja vu, how you slide into the scene from the shadows, facing the other end of miss hunter’s barrel, only this time you have your own trained at her too, even if it’s not as harmful as hers.
“move,” she says, hands steady. you hear her partner unsheating his other sword behind sylus. “i have no business with you.”
“shouldn’t you be able to kill a civilian since your words mean nothing?” you tilt your head, gun trained at her,feigning innocence. it’s a low blow, but last time you checked they had an agreement to not out one another in their respective territories and now she decides no, her loyalty is to the association. your goal now is to drive her back so if she aims at sylus, her aim might have a higher chance of a miss. “i mean, you killing me or you killing him would be the same result. he writes my paycheck.” you jab a thumb towards sylus, cataloguing his state. smug bastard that he is offering no help, cockily putting his hands above his head like he’s happy to be hereinstead of recognizing a sword is under his throat.
“i should warn you. she does bite,” sylus says, unhelpfully. the sword biting into his neck. a red line of blood starting to flow like the one on your cheek. they won’t kill him, you realize, taking in miss hunter’s partner’s eyes flinting in disapproval or maybe the guy would have if he’s not under miss hunter’s watch. well, that’s an advantage.
you take a step forward, notice miss hunter’s partner tensing in the corner ready to strike and dare another step anyway. sylus has defended himself in worse situations. you’re just cornering the unpredictable variable, the one you know he won’t hurt, but is arguably the easier target to subdue. it’s the only reason he didn’t finish this in one-go. subduing her partner would work if miss hunter doesn’t have a gun on either of you since they nullified sylus’ evol and no one’s bulletproof anymore. if you subdue her first though, sylus has a fighting chance to get out of the swordman’s hold. a risk, maybe, since sword guy would go rabid too to avenge her if she was hurt. you don’t envy her for holding two leashes. “go on, shoot me,” you cajole. “it’s not the first time either, is it?”
miss hunter’s partner’s attention flicks over to her for a slight second. his blue eyes narrowing. ah, he doesn’t know about her excursion does he? “at least you can argue i am armed this time so let’s make it count,” you add with another step, close enough to see the slight wavering of her form as she fights the first dose of drugs and close enough for a sleight of hand to embed another tranquilizer dose on her. the gun trained to her only for show. she slaps your non-holding gun hand away with her gun, causing the trigger to shoot one to the distance, and it kickstarts the skirmish. with her front open to you, you kick her in the chest, shoot your stun gun in her direction, and she stumbles back. something crunches behind you. the swing of a sword meeting flesh. the wet sound of it. sluggish as she is with the drugs in her system, she fights back when you aim to dislodge her gun and when it clatters, you turn to aim at her partner, whose nose is bleeding. the sickening crunch earlier must have been sylus headbutting him, who is also bleeding down his arm. she tries to subdue you with her remaining strength, but you shake her increasingly sluggish body away, leaving her to the ground as you watch how sylus had distanced himself from her partner, whose remaining sword is now missing. both their fists bloody.
you move closer to the pair, keeping your aim at the swordsman, waiting for an opening. sylus turns his body slightly to avoid the jab towards him, his eyes meet yours, briefly widening, and you shoot your shot.
two shots ring out and your world tilts.
a wet cough and blood on the ground.
blood wet on your chest.
you hear rather than see miss hunter’s gun clattering behind you and numbly you shoot another one to her partner still fighting the drugs. they’re out cold for now.
sylus, though. sylus falls towards you. heavy and bleeding, and smiling stupidly. you let gravity take both of you down and cradle him as you frantically open his shirt to try to stop the bleeding. “someone’s feeling hasty,” he rasps.
“stop talking, you stupid oaf,” you focus on putting pressure on the wound, ignoring the wet feeling of his blood on your hands soaking through the fabric as you rip more of your clothing to add to it. distantly you hear luke and kieran finally making their way out of hiding, hotwiring the car of the hunter’s association. the storm rumbling overhead.
sylus places his hand on top of yours, the one marred with his blood over his gasping chest, over the maroon thread tying him to another soul, and his usual warmth is non-existent, does not thaw the stone that is yourself. only my beloved can kill me. the splutters around a mouthful of blood, “run away with me.”
he’s the cruelest person you’ve ever known. “anywhere,” you reply, voice tight as you watch his eyes close.
you help the twins lug his body to the car, not sure how to tell them you’re not sure if he’ll make it, if you had just said goodbye, and in the commotion, the jade dagger falls from his pocket and cracks on the wasteland.
————-
you like to lie and sylus endures it.
“your funeral was a chore,” you pack his bags, back turned against him, grumbling all the while. “too many guests. honestly, who’s going to run this town after?”
the first time he met you was not by the painting, but by the poker table, where you reveal your royal flush as opposed to his full house. he knew you knew he was cursed because unlike the rest of the table who greets him warmly, scooting to make space for him to sit, or the fear and intimidation he is often on the receiving end of, his eye tells him you wanted to know who cursed him and curiosity becomes a two way street.
you are flippant in your loyalty. following him without question to save the twins and expecting nothing in return. you always say it doesn’t matter, but it’s the first time someone helped him carry the burden of protecting his hoard. you say you’ll take as much as he’s taking and yet you placed your heart on a jade dagger and said, it doesn’t matter. it’s a pet project. you’re the cruelest person he knows.
even now, with his bandage aroind his torso more for show than anything after his evol had returned to suture his own wounds just fine, you’re pushing him to rest, not letting him any say in all of this.
well, he smiles as he watches you root through his closet, it’s not like he can blame you.
“what?” you turn around, finally facing him. “why are you smiling like that?” you frown further, rushing to his side.“is the dosage too high? or do you need more? i'll page kieran –”
he chuckles, opting to pull your wrist down to silence you until you flail on top of him. huffy and indignant. you restrain yourself from punching him, which is sweet, he supposes. “sylus,” you glare at him. “let me go. ‘s not good for you.” his torso aches slightly since he wasn’t able to heal it immediately with his evol and had to rely on modern medicine to do its job for the first half of it, so despite the scarring gone, even his flesh can feel painhe supposes. still, he wraps his arm around you, silencing your protest to leave. he’ll take discomfort if it means you’re next to him.
“ask me again,” he implores, his other hand cupping your face. anything to get your eyes to look at him so he can set it right. a lifetime ago, in this same bed, when you had asked that question, and he had been taken aback by the vulnerability he didn’t think you’ll ever let him see, even when he had offered you all of him to take months ago. you knew he was cursed and you never asked, and yet, you had given him acceptance in turn, and the moment had passed before he could make it right. something had splintered then, he knew, the slight distance you insist didn’t exist, you sneaking aorund, your door closed but the light under the door would burn warm when he got back later than anticipated. he noticed, of course, he did.
only he thought, he’d give you the space you clearly need. he knows better than most the armor you wear. he wears it too, after all, and perhaps it’s why this dance has went on much longer than he anticipated. he assumed you knew his loyalty is to you the way you offered yours to him, but clearly he needs to remediate that. “ask me again,” he repeats, softly.
your eyes flicker down to his chest. he does not know what you’re seeing. his curse line, maybe, whatever form it takes. he never asked, and you never offered to describe what his curses look like, but whenever he held you close you’d always place your hand in the same area. it burnt when he had taken that bullet for you, it burnt the first time he almost lost you for good and offered himself to you to take. it hummed when he picked up the jade dagger and he had understood then what you were hiding behind his back. it’s a dull ache now and even he can sense the ache feels more tender than a sharp pain of dissonance. maybe the curse shifted. he still doesn’t know what the jade dagger was supposed to do and maybe one day you’ll teach him about your world, about how you see it beyond what you’ve told him, but right now, you have no idea how the curse never mattered to him. he may be fated to carry it, but he chooses you if you’ll have him.
selfishly, he wants you to say it. selflessly, he wants you to ask it for yourself. take what you need.
you press your trembling hand over his heart. his heart aches. “sylus,” your eyes resolute when you meet his even if your voice wavers. you don’t know how much he wishes to ruin you. “would you run away with me?”
he threads his fingers with yours. you should know by now there is no love more purer than mine. but that will come later, he has all the time in the world to convince you of it. “always.”
———————————————————————
end notes:
happy birthday sylus. this was originally supposed to be angstier where one of them did not make it (yes two alternate endings) but since it's his birthday, i'll give them a kinder one.
first story in a while, very nervous. thank you to everyone who was very enthusiastic about this idea. originally, i was going to update the sylus series but i know if i don't upload this before the ending of sy series, this won't ever go out so despite how rough this is, i hope you can enjoy it just the same. that is still on the calendar i just needed to get this out first.
You knew Caleb had a breed kink - it was why you just had a baby after all.
He loves to grab your hips in his hands and rail his fat cock inside your walls, loves to fold you in half in a mating press and shove his cum in those walls that grip him so good. Loves seeing your tummy bulge with how deep he's buried - fuck Caleb even likes those cute stretch marks you get when you're pregnant.
"Pregnant with my baby," he'd moan, kissing your tummy, lavishing those sensitive nipples and moaning, his eyes damn near black. Caleb loved getting his pretty Pips pregnant, but what you didn't know was how much he'd love sucking your nipples.
You were so embarrassed when he'd had you riding his cock just a little over a month after your baby - just in time to be cleared for sex, and he'd leaned up and squished your tits in his huge hands - rough from years of training. Calloused thumb swirling your nipple as his cock made you re learn its shape, those violet eyes dilated.
"That's it, slutty cunt missed me, huh Pips?" He whispered, sitting up and dragging you down on his girthy length, sucking a nipple into his hot mouth. "mmm..."
That's when Caleb tasted your milk for the first time, moaning and sucking harder, making you dizzy from how sore they were from breastfeeding. You'd tugged at those soft brown locks of hair, trying to get him to stop, but Caleb was drunk off your damn taste.
"It's so sweet, fuck..." he'd dragged you down and you rolled your hips, head falling back for more of his rough suction, his mouth quickly moving to the other, milk just dripping down his lips. "Fuck I can't get enough."
"Y-you can't... Caleb..." You sucked in a breath through your teeth. "Fuck feels s'good... ngh!"
After that Caleb was just done for, every chance he got once you put the baby to bed he was sucking your milk, you'd brush his hair back and arch for more, especially when his fingers fucked into your sore little cunt. "Caleb you can't just drink it all!"
"I can't help it," he grins up at you now, fingers scissoring in and out of your messy cunt. "You love it, hmm?"
"N-no," you're lying and he knows, you blush when you do, but when he sucks again you fucking soak him, letting him drink all your sweetness right down his thirsty throat.
"Mmm... gonna make you a mommy again..."
"Again!?" He's chuckling, literally drunk from your tits that are so full, pulling back and kissing you, letting you taste it, hands gripping them rougher to make them drip more. "Ngh!"
"Need them to stay full, honey," he's swirling the beads of milk around your areolas, sighing. "So pretty, and your tummy all full, round with me again?"
"N-not this quick," he has your thighs spread with the fat head of his cock gliding through your syrupy mess, hair falling over a brow - he looks all cute and boyish when he's being a deviant. "Caleb, please..."
"Please what, honey? Use your words," he whispers, teasing your cunt even more with the tip - barely pressing in just to pull back with a filthy pop of that ridge slipping from your greedy hole. "No baby this soon, want me to pull out, too?"
"No, no," he smirks and shoves his cock fully inside, bottoming out with a sharp thrust, groaning at the sight of your tummy moving with him. His fingertips brush your little stretchies from the baby hungrily.
"All mine, my baby inside you again, huh? You want my cock, my cum, want me to wreck your insides pretty?"
"Please, please," you're lost when he's doing just that, fucking into you and squeezing your tits, your milk squirting down and dripping for his hungry mouth, making him moan as he slurps it all up. Your nails dig into his back, making him even thicker inside you.
"Gonna keep you pregnant - hah," he's grinning against your skin, swirling that milk all around and fucking your cunt harder, watching your cute fucked out little expressions. "Keep drinking you, make you a mommy over and over. Yeah, Pips?"
You're dazed and fucked out, just how Caleb likes you. "Mhm."
"Such a good girl f'me," you melt under the praise, cunt spasming when he flips you on top and tugs you down, putting your tits right back in his face. "Lemme drink more, please?"
How he can give you violet puppy dog eyes while sucking all your milk and pumping more cum in you unprotected - well it's just a problem.
****
well my ovulation had to go to Caleb in anticipation of his myth tmrw - blame @uhnosav for this too hehe
summary: the days drone on endlessly as they do in court, but desire runs deep with your blood, and it’s isn’t just your step son or husband who can’t keep their hands off of you.
pairing: baelor targaryen x sister in law!reader, valarr targaryen x aunt!reader, maekar’s targaryen x wife!reader, aerion targaryen x stepmother!reader
warning(s): SMUT, threesome, targcest, public space, slight age gap, baelor teaching his son how to fuck a woman
a/n: this was muchhh requested by you peeps, and i had to go ahead with it because the idea was too good, i hope you enjoy 💗😛😈
The morning sun filtered through the latticed windows of the chambers, casting warm patterns on the worn castle walls. You savored these simple moments before waking, twisting gently in the sheets of your half empty bed, the warmth and seclusion of the hour seemed far from the clamor of courts and castles. Last night's passions lingering in your limbs as you stretched— a tender aching between your thighs from the way he'd taken you, slow and deep, his hands gripping your hips as he spilled inside you spent and groaning.
A smile crept at your face from at the memory, of the way his silver hair fell against your forehead, breathing out sweet nothings of your beauty, you breathing back how you loved him. Upon realising Maekar's side was empty, you grimaced, sitting up onto your elbows with a knowing glance, turning to him in the doorway where he stood adjusting his cloak, ready for the day's duties on the estate before it had begun.
"Be safe out there," you mumbled, feet reaching down to the floor and padding to him as you wrapped your arms around yourself, stepping close enough to press your body against his. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw as he rolled his eyes, muttering about how he could 'care less to be up at this godforsaken hour'. The smile didn't leave your face as you pulled his face down for a heated kiss, tongues tangling in a lazy echo of the night before, and he obeyed gently with a groan. His fingers let go of the clasp to his cloak, one hand cupping your ass through thin linen, squeezing possessively. "I'll return before dusk, my love" he promised, his voice rough, as he parted from you reluctantly, eyes darkening with that familiar hunger. But duty called, his fingers rubbing at your hips, and with a final nip at your lower lip, he strode out of the door, leaving beside the squires, and leaving you yearning.
With a contented sigh, you began to get dressed, making no use to call on your maids,they'd arrive to find your chambers empty by the time they gathered in with your dresses. You had made use of your home, no matter by your husband's side or another's, you weren't going to wait on anyone. Instead, you laced the ready made bodice at your dressing table yourself, with a little difficulty, pulling the silver and white finery over your head and evening out your hair into a braid you had learned as a girl. Simple as it was, it was fine enough to be presentable, and you gathered your skirts, making your way through the dark halls, across the sun-dappled garden to the small library amid the cloister. It was a cozy haven of shelves lined with leather-bound tomes, a wide hearth for those rainy afternoons, and a pair of overstuffed armchairs that invited hours of quiet escape. It was your own sanctuary, where you often lost yourself in tales of old Valyria and herbal lore, away from the endless rounds of household tasks.
It was a welcome escape from the tangle you had found yourself in more particularly, the recent trysts tugging at you though none of it had been talked about. And you'd hoped they would never be.
--
So as you pushed the heavy door open, bidding a 'good morrow' to the kingsguard, you were left cold against the frame. Pausing at the sight of your nephew, Valarr. Baelor's son prowled the room as a young mad would, proud and careful, his boots soft on the rug as he pulled a volume from the shelf, flipping through its pages with feigned nonchalance. At about Aerion's age, he carried the lithe grace of youth, his dark hair tousled, tunic unlaced at the collar to reveal a glimpse of smooth chest. He hadn't noticed company yet, but you took him in, eyes gentle as they watched his, his brow furrowed in concentration— or perhaps distraction.
Such similarity in his look to his father's.
You shook your head at your lingering thoughts, stepping forward into the room.
"Valarr?" you called out softly, the door clicking shut behind as you rested lightly against, quirking your brow at his presence. He startled, the book nearly slipping from his grasp, violet eyes widening in surprise as they landed on you. A flush crept up his neck, boyish and endearing, so obvious it made you pulse quicken.
"Aunt," he replied, voice catching just a touch as he set the book down. "I didn't expect... I mean, good morrow. Father sent me to fetch some maps for the Keep's boundaries, but this place..." He gestured vaguely at the shelves, stepping closer into the middle of the room, his voice smooth. "It's peaceful. Easy enough to draw a man in."
You smiled then, moving to the hearth where embers from last night's fire still glowed faintly. The room was quiet, save for the distant trill of birds outside and the soft crackle as you stirred the logs, coaxing fresh flames to life. "It does. Sit with me? The day is young. We can talk while you search. And it is rare I ever have company here." He hesitated only a moment before nodding, pulling up the armchair opposite your own. You settled at last, smoothing your skirts underneath you, and he shifted, dragging his seat an inch closer until your knees nearly brushed.
The conversation began with simple, lighthearted things— the weather turning mild, the harvests promising well, his training with the sword under his father's watchful eye and his victories of the season. Valarr spoke humbly, his hands gesturing, laughter light and unforced, as he listened t you intently, face gleaming against the reflection of hearth.There was an a gentleman's curiosity to him, a eager spark that made the air between you both hum, the quiet of the library wrapping you in something others may mistake as more intimate.
"You've changed since last I saw you at supper a few nights ago," he said after a pause, his gaze lingering on your face for a beat, then dropping to the curve of your neck where the pulse beat steady. "More... radiant. Is it the summer air? Or something else?" His tone dipped, curious, probing, and you felt the shift— like the first warm breath of spring turning the conversation toward hidden gardens.
You met his eyes, the firelight dancing in them, or his own, you couldn't tell you but somehow the flattery heated your face. "Perhaps it's the peace of settling in. No prying eyes, just... freedom." Your fingers toyed with the edge of your sleeve, it was habit, but it drew his attention to the way the fabric clung to your arm, and he leaned in, the space between shrinking.
"Freedom," he echoed, his voice carrying something deeper that before, the faint scent of him brushing your nose. "I envy such a thing. At court, everything is a game, but here..." His hand reached out, tentative, brushing a stray lock at your shoulder. Careful, but bold. The touch lingered, his thumb grazing at collarbone, light enough to send a shive at your spine, but you let him continue, "You make it feel real."
The timber in the fire crackled through the air, mirroring the heat building low in your belly in anticipation. You were no stranger to his affections, the looks he'd give you from across the fields or halls, his passion was evident from the beginning. Though you'd brushed it off at first, allowing boys to be, but his hand pressed firmer now, and for some reason , you didn't pull away; instead, you turned my palm up, inviting his fingers to lace with your own.
Valarr's eyes darkened at that, noticing it instantly, that boyish eagerness flaring into lust, something stronger. He rose slightly, closing the gap to perch on the arm of your chair, his thigh pressing into your side. "Aunt, I do not wish to be.." But words failed him as he bent, watching your expectant and curious eyes that matched his, and he leaned in over you, capturing your lips in a kiss that started soft, those hesitant presses, tasting of morning mint— only deepening with his urgency. The very thing he'd dreamt of since laying eyes on you for the first time.
You kissed him back without another moral thought, hand sliding up his firm chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath the thin shirt. He was almost clumsy in his hunger, tongue sweeping into your mouth with a groan that vibrated into your throat. His free hand roamed, tracing the swell of your breast through the gown, thumb circling the hardening nipple until you arched into him. "Gods, you're so soft," he whispered against your lips, shifting to straddle the chair's edge, pulling you closer as he closed in.
Emboldened, his fingers trailed downward, bunching your skirts as you let him take control, he wedged his hand between your thighs. And you parted them instinctively, a soft gasp escaping as he cupped your mound through the dampening linen of undergarments. "Valarr," you breathed out at his mouth, warning laced with encouragement. You didn't want him to stop.
Your hips began rocking into his palm, as he rubbed in circles, pressing harder, the friction igniting your core with need. His kisses grew fervent, nipping at your jaw and down to your throat, while his other hand tangled into your hair hair, holding you both steady against the chair. He hadn't known where to put his hands, yet they found your clit between silk, pressing his fingers to run through your folds as you gasped, tugging at the hair at the back of his neck.
You were both so lost in the moment, you hadn't heard the door open.
There was no preamble, as you felt Valarr freeze, looking up with his hand still wedged between your legs, slick with you. Baelor, your own brother in law, his father, stood in the threshold, his broad frame silhouetted against the hallway light, expression shifting from surprise to a knowing intensity. He shut the door as quickly as he came in, looking from you both to the window. You recoiled into yourself at being caught, your cheeks flushed and shameful. "What is this, boy?' His voice was low, not angry, but laced with authority as he stepped toward you both.
Valarr pulled back, face paling and stammering, "Father, I.. we— I didn't mean—" But Baelor raised a hand, his eyes flicking over to you, dark with the same heat you'd glimpsed in him before. You sat there disheveled, skirts hiked, but holding his gaze as though to be scolded as well, perhaps told upon.
"No excuses, son," Baelor said, approaching with measured steps, his presence filling the small room. He loomed over you both, wrapping a hand at Valarr's shoulder, kneeling beside the chair, his callused hand gently but firmly moving Valarr's aside to take its place.
"If you are bold enough to touch her, you do it properly. She deserves more than fumbling." His fingers slipped between you, parting your folds to find you soaked, stroking at your clit with expert pressure that drew a moan from your throat.
Valarr watched, wide-eyed, his cock straining against his breeches as Baelor demonstrated— slow circles, then dipping inside of you, curling to hit that spot with a burn around his thick fingers. "Feel how she tightens? That's what you aim for. Listen to her breaths, her sighs." He guided Valarr's hand back, showing him the rhythm, their fingers working together at you now, stretching and thrusting in tandem while Baelor's thumb teased your entrance.
You writhed in the chair, the dual touch overwhelming, and pleasure building and you didn't know how to react, simple from pleasure or feelings you couldn't describe.. The wrongness. Baelor leaned in, claiming your mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue mirroring the motions below, while Valarr's free hand cupped your breast, pinching the nipple as he'd seen his father nod approval, his nose rocking at yours. "Now your mouth," He commanded against your lips, pulling back to lift your skirts higher to your hips, exposed to the fire's glow.
He positioned Valarr on his knees before you, stepping behind and guiding his son's head between your thighs. "Lick her slow, like savoring wine." Valarr obeyed, fingers gripping at the flesh inside of your thigh as he pushed in, his tongue flat and broad, lapping from your hole to your clit in unhurried strokes. His eager laps that growing bolder as your hands flew to is hair, eyeing the older man stood above you both, sucking gently on the swollen nub as Baelor coached, "Deeper, boy. Tongue inside her."
Their efforts blended seamlessly, Baelor joining to rub at your pearl while Valarr probed with his tongue, fingers sliding in to fuck you steadily. The tension coiled tighter, your hands fisting into dark hair, Valarr's soft strands and Baelor's coarser grip, as your gasps turned to pleas.
"Please... don't stop," you whimpered, body trembling on the edge as your knees buckled at Valarr's shoulders.
"Let her come on your tongue," Baelor growled, and Valarr redoubled, latching on with fervent sucks while Baelor's fingers thrust harder inside of you. Ecstasy shattered through you with a final lick to your cunt, walls pulsing around them both, your juices coating his face as you cried out, waves of release leaving you boneless and glowing.
They eased you down at once, kisses trailing your thighs and legs, but Baelor's eyes still promised more.
"Good start, son. Now watch how a man claims her fully." The library's quiet held new secrets, the day stretching long before you.
The aftershocks of your climax still ripple through your body, leaving you limp against the armchair, slick and trembling with your breath narrowing. Baelor's strong hands steady you, his touch both commanding and reverent as he rises from his kneel, eyes locking onto yours with a silent question— permission etched in the subtle lift of his brow, the way his fingers pause at your waist as he reached you again. You nod, breath hitching, inviting him closer, and that's all he needs. He isn't to tale what isn't his, until you say so, though longing crippled you all and you lean your head against his.
And with effortless strength, he scooped you up, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carries you the few steps to the sturdy oak desk behind the hearth. Books and scrolls scatter with a soft thud as he sets you down on the edge, the wood cool against your heated skin. He removes your skirts passed your feet, watching as they bunch at the floor, his gaze devouring the sight of your body, taking in every curve, your cunt still pulsing from their earlier attentions. Valarr comes up beside him, his chest still heaving, his breeches tented painfully, watching with wide-eyed hunger as his father unfastens his own belt, your arousal slick on his lips.
"Tell me.."
"I want you, I want you both.."
Baelor's cock springs free into his hand, thick and rigid with need, the head already beaded with his own arousal. He positions himself between your spread thighs, rubbing the blunt tip along your folds, and coating himself in your wetness before pressing forward. Inch by inch, he sinks into you, stretching your walls with a deep, deliberate thrust that makes you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. He's unyielding, filling you completely, the base of him grinding against your clit as he bottoms out.
"Like this, son," Baelor's voice falters into your neck, voice gravelly, as he continues instructing as best he can, not breaking his rhythm as he pulls back and drives in again, slow and profound, each plunge claiming you anew. The desk creaks under the force, your body rocking with his, breasts bouncing freely now that your bodice has been tugged down by hands you couldn't name. The pleasure builds again in heavier waves, his cock dragging against every ridge inside you, hitting deep enough to send your eyes rolling back.
Valarr edges closer, drawn like a moth to flame at the sight of you, and his father fucking you to your edge, his hand fumbling at his laces until his own erection bobs free— slender but hard, flushed with urgency. You reach for him without thinking, wrapping your fingers around his length through blackened eyes, feeling it throb hotly in your grip. He groans, stepping to your side, and you start pumping him gently, matching the pace of Baelor's thrusts— up and down, thumb swirling over the slick tip to spread the sticky want.
The younger man bends, his mouth latching onto your breast, tongue flicking the peaked nipple before he sucks it in deep, teeth grazing just enough to send jolts straight to your core. He lavishes attention there, switching to the other side when you arch into him, his free hand kneading the soft flesh while his hips buck into your fist. They overwhelm you, Baelor's powerful strokes pounding relentlessly into you while Valarr's eager mouth pulling whimpers from your lips, your hand working him faster as his breaths turn ragged against your skin.
Baelor leans in, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he angles his hips to grind deeper, his balls slapping against you with each forceful entry. Valarr's sucks grow hungrier, his tongue swirling wet circles around your areola, and you feel him tense in your grasp, close to spilling. The library air thickens with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, your shared gasps, the wet slide of your hand on Valarr's cock— tension coiling tighter, promising another shattering release.
Valarr's mouth works you with desperate fervor, you arch against him, craving more, and he switches to your other again, fingers digging into the yielding flesh. His hips jerk forward into your tightening grip, your fist pumping his throbbing cock faster, both breaths come in hot, uneven bursts that mingle with your own.
Baelor's thrusts drive into you without mercy, his thick cock stretching your soaked walls with every powerful slam, balls smacking wetly against your ass. Shame flickers in the back of your mind, a distant whisper reminding you of who you are: Valarr's aunt, Baelor's sister-in-law, a woman who should know better. But the want consumes you, raw, drowning out the guilt, turning to the pleasure that coils tighter in your core.
Baelor claims your lips in a fierce kiss, tongue invading your mouth to devour your moans, his hips shifting to hit that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. Valarr's attentions grow wilder, his tongue tracing sloppy patterns around your areola, sucking harder as his body tenses in your hand. Valarr breaks first, a guttural groan vibrating against your chest as he pulls back, his cock pulsing in your grasp. You stroke him urgently, aiming him toward your stomach, and he erupts with a shuddering cry— hot ropes of cum splattering across your skin, marking you in sticky warmth from your navel to the underside of your breasts. The sight and feel tip you over, your hole spasming around Baelor as your orgasm crashes through you, waves of ecstasy ripping screams from your throat that he muffles with another bruising kiss.
Baelor doesn't stop, his pace faltering only as your climax consumes him, his cock swelling inside your fluttering heat. He buries himself to the hilt, growling low as he floods you with his release, thick spurts of seed pumping deep into your womb. You tremble between them, spent and sated, the shame a faint echo beneath the haze of satisfaction, your body limp against the library shelves as their warmth lingers on and in you.
"How are we to speak of this.." Your voice comes trembling and breathy, and they both look up at you, Baelor's hands rubbing your mid section gently.
after years being by caleb's side, you realize you want more. but it seems like he's avoiding it on purpose... what does he think about putting a ring on your finger, really?
genre/warnings:
18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—established relationship, crack, arguments, hurt/comfort, explicit smut, fluff, bratty!reader and manipulative!caleb (but he's sooo stricken when you're hurt)
notes:
if it isn't clear by now, i'm an unapologetic caleb simp :') and the bridgerton s4 bathtub scene is messing up with my mind so...
One must know how to restrain their greed, they said.
“Sleep with me tonight!”
However, you knew for a fact that patience was your lowest virtue. So you might as well said it bluntly, recklessly, right to his face.
Caleb, who was demurely sitting on the sofa, looked up at you. His hand, which had been turning the page of his book, froze midway. And for a theatrical effect, he didn’t react at all.
You stood there, swaying ever so slightly. Your expression was serious. Determined, even.
...though the faint flush dusting your cheeks and the unmistakable smell of alcohol clinging to you betrayed your brave face.
“What?” His head tilted to the side then, lips twitching as he held back a laugh.
What brought this on? Even your mind wondered amidst your haze. Maybe it was because you had feel too much, seen too much—
You squared your shoulders, lifting your chin with bold conviction that might have been impressive—if not for the way you tipped forward and tumbled to him.
Caleb reacted instantly, catching you and drawing you into him. You landed in his lap, your legs tangling with his as though they belonged there.
“I said,” you repeated, slower this time, peering up at him with a petulant look as you jabbed a finger into his chest in a futile attempt to gain authority, “sleep with me tonight.”
He squeezed your sides, dashing smile on his face. “…You’re drunk.”
“Am not.”
“You—” Caleb gave up halfway, bursting into snickers despite himself. You looked utterly adorable to him, all needy and flushed, trying to make him pay attention to you.
Meanwhile, you stared at him, affronted. He was laughing at you, who had just gathered every ounce of courage in your body (assisted by liquid courage, no less) to deliver such a bold, life-altering declaration.
Your finger poked his chest again, weaker this time. “Take me seriously.”
“Yeah, yeah...” he said, though the curve of his lips betrayed him. You narrowed your eyes, while his amethyst ones crinkled at you.
He shouldn’t look at you like that. Not with that softness. Not with that endearing, indulging fondness that made your heart stutter in your chest and your resolve increased tenfold.
You loved being in Caleb’s arms. You felt thoroughly protected, sheltered, loved. And everyone around you was having proposals, engagements, weddings—
So why hadn’t he...?
“You—” you continued, raising your head as if presenting a compelling argument, “You can do whatever you want to me tonight.”
So many years. You had been by Caleb’s side for so long, spent in longing and yearning, and you were dying to step towards the future with him. In your hazy thoughts, you thought that if you offered yourself to him, then it would compel him to somehow fulfill your wishes.
Caleb’s brow arched slightly, his smile never fading. But his eyes changed. They sharpened, searching your face as if trying to separate courage from impulse.
“…Whatever I want?” he repeated carefully.
You nodded firmly—or at least, what you thought was firmly—your grip tightening in his shirt.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t regret it tomorrow?”
You frowned at him. “You ask too many questions.”
Caleb leaned closer then, his nose bobbed lightly against yours in a soft nudge. The gesture was intimate in a way that made your breath catch.
He exhaled, the sound warm against your lips.
“…Okay,” he nodded at last. “Just don’t blame me later.”
Your heart skipped, stumbling over itself as anticipation grew. Even if you couldn’t have your dreams of future, you could still have this—his attention, his warmth wrapped around you tonight.
And then, with a final tone that made your silly heart face even faster, he sealed it with:
“Tonight, you’re staying with me.”
. . .
“Caleeeeb!”
You whined, full of outrage as you twisted in Caleb’s arms, visibly irate and ready to roast him alive.
Your scheming lover, spooning you from behind with one arm draped over your waist, merely hummed, “Mm-hm? What is it, meimei?”
“What is this?!” you demanded, gesturing vaguely at everything—most notably, the the audacity of this man.
Apparently, the “whatever” that he meant… was too far from your imagination.
The moment he got you into his room, Caleb had guided you to his bed with gentleness. Before you could even begin to prepare yourself, he reached over and switched on the fan.
On the highest setting. The blades whirred to life, sending a powerful stream of air cascading over you both. And then, as if that weren’t enough, he grabbed the remote from his bedside table and turned on the air conditioner too.
Also to the coldest setting.
“You said I could do whatever I wanted,” he drawled in your ear, tightening his hold on you. “I want to cuddle.”
“Grr…” you growled under your breath, frustrated beyond words.
The sheer absurdity cleared away all your drunken haze. This was not how this was supposed to go! It was supposed to be a night of unrestrained passion— but now you were freezing with him turning you into his body pillow
But Caleb... He was relishing in your frustration. And worst of all—he was winning, again.
So actually, it all started ever since you attended Jenna’s wedding.
Seeing your usually no-nonsense captain standing there in a stunning wedding dress had stirred something within you. The way her voice trembled and teared up as she recited her vows nearly brought tears to your own eyes.
And somewhere between the exchange of vows and the way her partner looked at her—as if she were the only person in the world—you found yourself thinking of Caleb.
The years you had spent at his side. The way he kissed you without hesitation. The way he said your name like it belonged to him. All the memories you had shared... amplified with the scene of eternal vows before you, you thought you had reached clarity.
You wanted that forever with him.
However you didn't know whether it was your own imagination or not, but you had this hunch that Caleb deliberately avoided this topic as much as possible—
. . .
There was this one time when you passed by a popular boutique, and your eyes practically sparkled as you stared at the intricate, lacy gowns.
“Caleb, you see, those wedding dresses look beautiful—”
“Not if you’re the one wearing that, pipsqueak. You will trip on the hem within three steps and take out half the guests like bowling pins.”
“You—!”
. . .
There was another time. You were sitting on his lap after a long day, his arm slung around you while you leaned against his sturdy chest.
“Caleeeb. If we ever got married—”
“Oh, Lord, give me strength.”
“What?!”
“If I marry you,” he snorted, “I will be left with house bills debts. Why?” He gestured at you with his jaw. “Because someone will spend the entire budget on snacks.”
“—?! I don’t eat that much!”
“I’ve seen you demolish a family-sized dessert by yourself. And then there’s also groceries,” he continued mercilessly. “I’d go bankrupt.”
“That is husbandly duty!” you shot back indignantly. “A husband provides for his wife!”
“You’re not a wife. You’re a long-term financial crisis.”
“Idiot! That’s slander, I’m suing you!”
. . .
The latest was when you were both walking through the market, weaving through the noisy crowd of vendors and shoppers. Caleb held your hand in his while you walked beside him, occasionally pointing at random stalls.
Then you spotted it. A jewelry stand. Rings glinted under the sunlight, neatly arranged in velvet trays.
“Caleb.”
He didn’t even look. “No.”
Your eye twitched. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Look, just look at the rings!”
Caleb finally glanced down. Then immediately looked away like the metal had personally offended him. “Those are overpriced.”
“You didn’t even check the price!”
“I can feel it spiritually.”
. . .
No, now you were certain. Caleb could face anything, except a wedding conversation with you.
It would be a lie to say you weren’t a little disappointed. But how else could you bring this up again when he kept deflecting it so many times?
Sighing, you pushed the thought aside.
By the time you arrived back home, the sky had already begun to dim into the soft gold of evening. The place still looked unfamiliar sometimes—despite the fact that it had once been yours.
Your childhood home. Except now the crooked fence had been replaced, the porch repaired, and the roof no longer sagged under its own age. Caleb had spent weeks fixing it up, refusing to let you help with most of the heavy work.
“If we’re going to live here, might as well make sure the roof doesn’t collapse on us,” he had said at the time. The thought made you smile.
You pushed the door open, but just as you stepped inside, voices drifted from the living room.
“…figured I’d drop by,” someone was saying from beyond the partition.
You immediately recognized the voice— Gideon, Caleb’s old classmate during his Aerospace Academy years. Your brows lifted slightly in surprise, it had been a while since the last he visited.
You were taking off your shoes, thinking about announcing yourself when the two friends’ conversation suddenly took another turn. “Don’t you— time— settle down?”
The new partition Caleb had installed was made from some kind of soundproof material, so the conversation beyond it reached you only in snippets.
“Come on.” You heard Gideon’s faint chuckle next. “You— playing house already.”
A short pause followed before Caleb’s voice answered, “That’s not it...”
The response must have caught Gideon off guard, because when he spoke again, his voice was louder that you could hear it almost clearly. “So what? You never think about it? Actually settling down?”
Your breath caught as the meaning of their conversation sank in. For a moment, there was silence—
Then Caleb laughed lightly.
“With everything—? No.”
Huh? You stood there in silence, unmoving, too stunned to think.
You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but… wasn’t that exactly what it sounded like?
Suddenly, what Caleb did all this time made total sense. It hadn’t been playful avoidance. He never thought to settle down with everything—with you. He simply didn’t want it.
Your throat felt tight.
The only thought ringing in your mind was to leave before either of them could notice you. Almost staggering, you slipped the door open again and closed it just as softly behind you as you stepped outside. The evening air greeted you once more, cooler now than when you had first arrived.
For a moment, you remained standing on the porch, staring at the fading gold of the sky as the daylight slowly drained away. Your chest burned—a painful knot forming there, feeling betrayed more than anything else.
You just… didn’t want to be here.
Anywhere else would be better than here.
So, before you could think too much about it, you walked away.
Hours passed, and the disappointment and sadness that had hollowed out your chest had dulled into resentment.
After you left home, you wandered through the shopping district without really seeing any of it. Store lights flickered as evening deepened into night. You grabbed convenience store bento box for your dinner, quietly pre-heating it and eating in the corner.
As the night went on, crowds thinned and vendors began packing their stalls, yet you kept walking.
Your phone buzzed again in your hand—perhaps for the tenth time. With a tired sigh, you glanced down at the screen, your lips pressing into a thin line.
Seven missed calls. All from Caleb. He left you many messages too.
[06.32 pm]
still working? i went home early today to cook your fav braised chicken :D
[06.40 pm]
oh yeah grab a ketchup on the way home, will you? i'll add it to the seasoning later
[07.15 pm]
...hello? am i being ghosted :( that's it. i'm not feeding you tonight
[07.58 pm]
hey nevermind the ketchup. i went out already so you just come back, okay?
[08.30 pm]
not coming back home yet?
[09.00 pm]
it's late. are you okay? where are you?
[09.14 pm]
answer my calls. why didn't you pick them at all?
All his messages were normal. As if the words you overheard earlier hadn’t carved straight through you. You bitterly laugh, because you had known for a long time that Caleb had always been cunning... but how could he be that cold to you?
Your phone buzzed again and you let it ring. Two more calls you ignored before the screen lit up once more, his name flashing insistently. You decided to pick it up this time.
“Finally.” His exhale was audible through the phone, like he’d been holding his breath for hours. But the next second, his tone sharpened. “Where are you? Why didn’t you pick up my calls?”
The question unexpectedly struck a nerve in you.
“What is it to you anyway?” you snapped. “I’m not a kid so I can wander anywhere I want.”
There was a brief pause. “…What? Of course I’m worried when you’re not answering my messages. Did something happen? Why are you—”
Your vision blurred as tears welled in your eyes. You were so tired of this—this pretend family, the way he showed concern for you. All it did was make you hope for something more… something you couldn’t even attain.
“Caleb,” you said finally, your voice suddenly steady. “I’ve been thinking. I think it’s for the best if we live separately from now on.”
“What—” He actually choked on the word. “Why— No. Where are you? I’ll come get you first—”
“I think it’s better that way.”
“No, it’s not!” he refuted immediately, panic beginning to edge into his voice. “You’re upset. We can talk when I get there—”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“We clearly have a lot to talk about.”
“Caleb—”
“Just tell me where you are.”
Your stubbornness only seemed to make him more desperate.
“Stop this,” he said, the sharpness gone now, replaced with something strained. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? Whatever it is, I’ll make it right, but for now you have to go back first. Tell me where you are and I’ll be there in five, I promise.”
In all the years you had known him—through every stubborn standoff and childish fight when you were younger—you couldn’t remember a single time Caleb had apologized first when he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He was always the type to dig into the problem, demand answers, argue until the truth came out before offering an apology.
But now he sounded almost desperate, trying to reason with you.
The realization softened something in your chest. The wall of hurt you had built over the past few hours cracked, just a little.
Maybe you could talk it through. Maybe you had jumped to conclusions… You should at least hear him out.
You opened your mouth to tell him where you were, but before you could—
CRASHHH!
A deafening roar tore through the street, and the ground lurched violently beneath your feet. For a split second, everything went white as a blast wave slammed into you. Your phone flew from your hand as the force knocked you off balance—
The line went dead.
“Huh...?”
Caleb frowned at the sudden silence when the call had been cut out. He heard that sound of explosion—it wasn’t loud from where he stood but it was enough to make the windows tremble faintly in their frames.
His grip on the phone tightened. “Hey!” he barked into the receiver, though the call had already dropped. “Answer me!”
A cold, creeping dread tightened in his chest. You—
Caleb didn’t think after that.
He bolted for the door, nearly wrenching it off its hinges as he threw it open. The cool night air hit his face as he sprinted down the steps two at a time. His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
No. Caleb broke into a full sprint down the street, his mind betrayed him with a thousand terrible images—of you lying motionless on the pavement, blood spreading beneath you while your phone lay discarded nearby.
“Don’t you dare…” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenched tight.
You had to be fine.
You had to be.
He pushed himself faster, lungs screaming, heart hammering like it might tear itself apart as the distant glow of flashing emergency lights began to stain the night sky ahead.
. . .
By the time he reached the city center, the place had descended into chaos.
A building had completely collapsed. Caleb’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes darted across the devastation.
Concrete and twisted metal spilled across the street, clouds of dust still drifting through the air. Emergency sirens wailed from every direction as people ran wildly through the streets—some screaming, others crying, some desperately calling out names into the smoke-filled night.
“Move! Move back!”
“Someone call an ambulance!”
“There are people still inside!”
The air smelled like burning wires. Panic surged through him like a tidal wave and Caleb pushed forward immediately, shoving through the crowd without hesitation.
“Let me through!”
People stumbled aside as he forced his way past them, ignoring the angry protests and frightened cries. His eyes scanned every face he passed—every injured person sitting on the pavement, every figure being helped away from the rubble.
None of them were you.
“Have you seen—” Caleb grabbed the shoulder of a passerby, voice rough with urgency. “A girl—about this tall—”
But the man shook him away frantically and rushed off.
Caleb almost cursed, his pulse roaring in his ears. Then he started shouting.
“Hey!” His voice tore through the noise of the crowd. “Y/N! Where are you?!”
His gaze swept across the rubble, searching desperately through the smoke and flashing emergency lights. His breathing grew harsher as dread clawed its way up his spine.
“Where are you!” Caleb shouted again, louder this time, his voice cracking as he turned towards the collapsed building.
Caleb lunged toward the rubble, ready to climb straight into the shattered remains, but before he could reach it, a pair of strong hands seized him from behind.
“Hey! Stop!” a police officer barked, grabbing his arm. “You can’t go in there!”
“Let go of me!” he snarled, thrashing violently as he tried to wrench free. “Someone’s in there!”
“It’s dangerous—”
“My girlfriend is in there!” he yelled, his voice raw with panic. He struggled against the officer’s grip like a wild animal, desperation making his movements reckless. “Let me go! I need to find her!”
“Sir, you need to calm down—”
“I’m not leaving her in there! She’s—!”
“Caleb!”
For one solid second, he thought he was hearing things. Your voice, unmistakably yours. Slowly—almost afraid to believe it—he turned around.
And there you were.
Alive. Standing a short distance away behind the police barrier, dust smudged across your clothes, your hair slightly disheveled… but otherwise completely unharmed.
For a moment Caleb simply stared at you, his brain struggling to process what his eyes were seeing.
Then he tore free from the officer.
Before you could even react, Caleb crashed into you and pulled you into a soul-crushing embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it knocked the breath from your lungs.
“You—” he choked out. “You’re okay—”
Your face pressed against his chest as he held you like he was afraid you might disappear. His whole body was shaking violently, and you could feel how shaken he was in the uneven rhythm of his breathing against your hair, in the way his fingers clenched the back of your jacket like he needed something solid to anchor himself.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything at all. He just held you like he was making sure you were real. You slowly lifted your head—and that was when you realized something that made your chest tighten.
This was the first time you had ever seen him like this. He was pale, his usually steady composure completely shattered. His eyes were wide and glassy, breaths coming in uneven pulls. The sight of him like this felt almost unreal.
“I’m fine— Caleb, I’m totally fine...”
Your words seemed to snap something inside him.
“You call this fine?!” His voice came out hoarse, breaking at the edges as his grip tightened again. His hands moved to your shoulders, as if checking you over, his eyes scanning your face, your arms, anywhere he could see. “There was an explosion—your phone cut off—I thought—!”
His voice faltered. He couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Caleb dragged a shaky breath through his teeth before pulling you back into another fierce embrace, burying his face against your hair.
“Don’t do that again,” he whispered, the words rough. “Don’t scare me like that… ever again.”
For once, the stubborn certainty that usually defined him was gone. All that remained was the quiet, desperate relief of a man who had almost lost everything he couldn’t bear to lose.
The walk back home passed in heavy silence. You were fine, mostly. There was only a shallow gash along your calf where debris must have caught you when the blast knocked you over. It stung with every step, but it was nothing serious.
Caleb, however, refused to let you walk home limping like that, and crouched in front of you.
“Get on.”
“It’s just a scratch—”
“Get on.”
There was no room for argument in his voice. And so you ended up clinging to his back while he carried you the rest of the way home, just like when you were kids.
Even then, he hardly spoke. The man who usually had something sharp or teasing to say about everything remained unnervingly quiet, his grip under your knees stayed firm the whole walk.
. . .
Caleb fussed and hovered around you like he usually did. He had insisted on cleaning the cut himself, carefully rinsing the blood away earlier before guiding you into the bath.
And now... the two of you sat together in the bathtub.
Warm water filled the tub with soft steam, the faint scent of soap drifting through the air. Caleb sat behind you, his chest pressed against your back. The water sloshed gently around your bodies whenever either of you shifted.
His arms rested loosely around you in the water, but every few moments he leaned forward, burying his face near your shoulder or the crook of your neck as he drew in a slow breath.
It was almost as if he had aged years in the span of a single evening. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t left, and the quiet around him felt heavy.
“Why do you want to leave this house?” he finally asked, his voice was low, roughened by exhaustion. “You were wandering around the city for hours and didn’t want to go home... tell me what it is that I did so wrong so I can fix it.”
You stiffened slightly.
Caleb rested his chin near your shoulder as he waited, his breath brushing faintly against your skin. You contemplated of making up some sort of an excuse, but finally resigned and told him the truth.
“…I heard you.”
“Heard what?”
“You and Gideon. You said you didn’t even consider settling down with me.”
The words sounded quieter when spoken aloud than they had when they first carved into your chest earlier that evening. For a moment, Caleb wasn’t sure he was hearing things right.
“What?”
You turned slightly, enough to catch the stunned look on his face. “Back at the house,” you pointed. “You said that.”
Caleb stared at you like you had just said something completely absurd. He almost squeaked, incredulous. “That’s what you thought I meant?”
“I heard it clearly—”
“That’s not what I meant at all.” He ran a frustrated hand through his damp hair, water dripping down his arm. “You didn’t even stay to hear the rest, did you?”
Caleb let out a short breath, something between ultimate exasperation and relief finally dawning across his expression. His gaze only darkened as he watched your confusion. Before you could say anything else, he suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.
“Caleb— Mmph!”
But, your words were cut off when his lips crashed into yours.
The kiss was fierce and desperate, nothing like the teasing brushes you were used to from him. Splash! The sudden movement sent water sloshing violently against the sides of the bathtub, spilling over the rim as he dragged you closer.
His hands moved instinctively, gripping your waist, sliding up your back as though he needed to feel every inch of you and in no time at all, heat flooded the space between you.
For someone who had been so quiet all night, the intensity of it was almost overwhelming. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing still uneven.
“Tonight,” Caleb murmured heatedly, amethyst eyes grounding you like the gravity itself, “you’re sleeping with me.”
. . .
Your towel barely covered you when Caleb carried you out of the bathroom in a princess carry and brought you to his bedroom.
“Caleb, wait—”
That traitorous towel slipped loose almost immediately as placed you on his bed. His hands came up to cradle your face as his mouth claimed yours— the kiss deep and heated, all his restrain gone.
The tension from the entire night seemed to pour out of him through that kiss. And when you parted, lust had taken over him thoroughly, your heart thundering in your chest with the way he gazed at you.
“I’ve had enough of waiting tonight, pipsqueak.”
You barely had time to breathe before he was guiding you to lay on the sheets. Caleb sank to his knees before you, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His hands slid along your thighs, parting them as he leaned forward, devouring you down there.
Your fingers instinctively tangled into his hair.
“Caleb—!” you moaned, startled by everything that was happening. You arched your back, feeling how he licked your folds so deliciously that you almost yelped.
Just when you were about to reach your high, your lover stopped and you unwittingly let out a whine.
When Caleb looked up again, his expression was softer now—but the intensity hadn’t faded. Drawing in a slow breath like he had earlier in the bath, he grounded himself in your presence.
“I thought I lost you tonight,” he said quietly. His brows creased into a frown, before something dark and dangerous glinted in his eyes. For a moment, you thought it was over—
You thought wrong. He followed it with two of his fingers, and you let out a shriek as he slid them in and out of you mercilessly.
Unbeknownst to you, he was on a mission to punish you tonight.
His rough, calloused hand closed around your waist, the grip firm enough to steal the breath from your lungs. In no time at all, you were reduced into a mess of cries and cum before him.
However, what followed afterwards was far gentler than what you had imagined. Somewhere along the way, his overwhelming feelings of cherishing you won out of all else.
He kissed you everywhere he could reach, like a man trying to reassure himself you were truly there. Your shoulders, your arms, the dip of your waist—each kiss lingering longer than the last, warm and reverent.
And when he entered you, stretching you with his thick girth, a low breath left his lips, holding onto you as if you were the only thing capable to in the world.
“Mine,” he growled against your ear. It was his sole thought throughout the night as he thrusted in and out of you with a restless urgency, like he needed to prove—to you, to himself—that you were truly here with him.
You woke before dawn, and caught Caleb still wide awake.
Propped against the headboard, he sat beside you with one arm draped loosely over your back, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles on your skin, his gaze fixed on your face as though he had been watching you for a long time.
“Caleb…?” Your voice came out groggy with sleep. “You haven’t slept?”
His thumb brushed slowly across your arm, absentmindedly tracing the same path again and again. “…I can’t.”
His voice was quiet. You pushed yourself up a little, squinting at him through sleepy eyes. Up close, you could see the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the tension still lingering in his expression.
Everything that had happened had shaken him more than he let on. The explosion. The broken call. The moment he thought he might never find you. And the idea—however brief—that you had been planning to leave him.
Caleb let out a slow breath when he noticed the way you were looking at him. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”
“…You’ve been watching me this whole time?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s creepy.”
Your gege snorted softly. Then, without warning, he flicked your forehead.
“Ow!” You immediately clutched the spot, glaring up at him. “What was that for?!”
“That,” he said flatly, “is for being stupid.”
You gaped at him. “Stupid—?”
“Yes. Stupid.” Caleb leaned back slightly, folding his arms as he looked down at you with mild irritation. “Running off because you thought I didn’t want to marry you. Honestly.”
“Well you made it sound like—”
“Of course I want to marry you, you goober. I just wasn’t going to propose you with some random ring bought off a street vendor.”
You blinked in surprise. The words came out so matter-of-factly that you froze. Caleb glanced down at you again, his expression still frosty, but he ruffled your hair with tenderness regardless.
“You deserve more than that.” His tone was casual, but there was a quiet certainty behind it. “If I’m putting a ring on your finger, it’s going to be something worth wearing.”
Your heart skipped a beat. Caleb finally sank back onto the pillow beside you so he could nudge his forehead against yours.
“So yeah,” he murmured, a finger came to trace your lips. The depth of his violet eyes held yours so completely that for a moment you were stunned.
“I’ll find you a ring so beautiful you won’t be able to look away from it.”
For a moment, the room fell quiet again. You reached up almost absentmindedly, your fingers fiddling with the front of his shirt. For once, neither of you rushed to fill the silence.
Caleb watched you for a moment, something gentle settling in his expression as he smiled. Then his hand came up to cover yours and laced your fingers together, holding them between you as he studied your face.
“To have and to hold,” Caleb said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, “for richer or poorer…”
His voice was softer than you had ever heard it.
“In good times and bad...”
Your throat tightened slightly. His gaze never leaving yours.
Caleb leaned closer, pecking you lightly in the lips.
“Yes,” he finished, the words steady and certain. “I want to do all of it with you. So... will you marry me?”
For a moment you could only stare at him. The words seemed to hang in the quiet room, mingling with the pale light of dawn and the steady warmth of his hand holding yours. This was everything you had hoped, but somehow it still went against all your wildest expectations.
Caleb watched you carefully, as though bracing himself for your answer, though the certainty in his eyes never truly wavered.
A warmth spread through your chest, steady and bright, until it made your eyes sting slightly. Slowly, you squeezed his hand back.
“Yes,” you said softly. “Yes!”
For the first time since the night began, the tension finally left his shoulders. His breath escaped in a quiet laugh of relief as he pulled you into the warmest embrace.
“Good, because I wasn’t planning to let you say no anyway.”
Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten. Whatever storms might come, whatever misunderstandings or fears lay ahead—both of you would face them together.
“Maybe they were right, maybe we really did marry too young”
Synopsis: When you married Zayne. You two were young that the elders had always told you two were bound to get overwhelmed with the idea of forever. And maybe that was the case when his childhood friend's condition turned critical that made him become her primary care physician and you— carrying his deepest secret, used it against him in resentment.
Until you too received your karma.
Married!AU, Zayne x NonMC Reader
Word Count: 6.3k
Self-doubt, flawed characters, and impulsive thinking.
Your POV
‘To have and to hold from this day forward’
They say that marrying young was a mistake. You were starting to think that maybe marrying Zayne when you had recently turned 27 wasn't the right choice. However, you couldn't dare admit that to Zayne.
The elders told you both that one day, you two would get overwhelmed at the idea of forever and that will be the end of your marriage.
Maybe that was the case with Zayne. He got tired of the idea of forever with you.
You knew that marrying a surgeon like Zayne Li was not easy, and you also knew it'd be so selfish of you to demand his time when he should be saving lives.
But not when his childhood friend and knowing first love was admitted into the ER that he became her attending physician.
“I just want to overlook her condition” is what he told you. Truth is, you don't doubt that. The problem is, the way he's so dedicated that it takes his time off your marriage.
Not when he comes home tired and the first thing he does is look for you as he debriefs on what happened at work today. Until that too, he stopped doing and you were left to wonder and ponder in your own thoughts.
Here you two were, acting less like a married couple and more like two unfortunate people who live together.
It had also been a couple weeks since you two last talked face to face.
Because every time you two encounter each other, it'll only end in hurtful words you two can't take back.
It all started a few weeks ago when Zayne received an emergency call from the hospital that left him frantic. He usually wasn't the type to rush nor lose composure so it must've been important.
Or one of his biggest fears had happened.
Marrying Zayne, he had always been watchful about your health, making sure you were getting your checkups and your vaccines were up to date, because his biggest fear above all is—
Getting an emergency call that one of his loved ones is hurt.
And seeing him frantically rush out the door you can only assume that it was Emcee, his childhood friend and first love. When you and Zayne were still in an undefined situation, you knew of his childhood friend, but one drunken night— he confessed something that you still carried till this day.
“Zayne? You're drunk” you tried to pry the shot glass off his hands, he promised he would drink only enough to make him feel sleepy but after two— he was already losing grip on reality.
“‘m not…” he murmured, eyes closed, grip on the glass heavy. You shook your head as he had finally let go of the glass. “Geez, how did you get through all those gatherings by being a lightweight”
Zayne only hummed as his phone buzzed, revealing a text message from Emcee. “Emcee texted” you told him, he forced his eyes open as he clumsily tried to text her back, panicking when he couldn't get his spelling right.
“What's up with you and Emcee anyway?”
He sighed in relief once he had sent her his “perfect” message, glancing back at you with his drunken expression. You weren't stupid. You knew Emcee was probably more than just a childhood friend, to Zayne at least.
“I love– no, I loved her. She was my first love” he drunkenly confessed, putting his arms over the table and laying there while he closed his eyes, “For years, and she never knew”
And for years, you kept that secret hidden from Zayne. You waited for him to return home that night, seeking the answers to a question you had already concluded for yourself.
When he came home, it was already dawn. He saw you, sitting on the bed where he left you, scrolling on your phone. He carefully approached you as he kissed you in the forehead and whispered, “It's Emcee. Her condition is worse than it seemed”
“But she's on the top of the donor list” He sighed in both regret and exhaustion as he carefully tried not to lean on the bed since you didn't like it when he lay on the bed in his hospital clothes. “That's until the family decided to back down the last minute and she–”
He shook his head, standing up and making his way towards your shared bathroom “I took over as her primary care physician”
So, it really was that serious You thought to yourself. Zayne had carefully slammed the bathroom door and a few minutes later, heard faint sobs.
Zayne wasn't the type to cry, instead, he'd rather conceal his emotions.
You got out of bed and walked over to the bathroom door and gently knocked, “Zayne?” you called out, you didn’t hear a response at first, a few seconds later, the door was opened slightly as you quickly gave Zayne a hug. He quickly reciprocated it, hugging you tightly. “I can’t lose her again…”
“I know Zayne…” You knew.
A couple of weeks had gone by like that, Zayne coming home late as his own mental state deteriorated which reflected on his Emcee’s failing condition. You had come to visit her once, out of respect, and to not look petty; she smiled at you and told you just how annoyingly considerate your husband was.
Too considerate, You thought to yourself.
You knew it was wrong to spew jealousy at a sick person. So, you turned towards someone you can blame instead, your husband. It was wrong, but to you, he seemed like the easiest target to lash out on.
You sat there, listening as Emcee shared the times where Zayne refused to leave her side till she was in stable condition and even joked about having a separate pager just for her— that really ticked you off.
Deep inside, something immature, impulsive, and really stupid haunted you.
Was Zayne cheating on you?
It made sense really, first, she was his first love; second, from what Emcee had been telling— the two were mostly together.
So, after a couple more times of this situation, you had enough.
Zayne had come home late last night, later than most nights. Nevertheless, it was the time where it was morning and the sun was about to rise. “You’re home late” You told him, sitting on the bed, refusing to look at him. “It’s Emcee–” Of course it was “We finally received a—”
“Why is it always about her?!”
“Excuse me?”
You raised your head to look at him, with a grim expression on your face “Emcee this and Emcee that— do you only go to work just to see her?!”
“Is it because you have this savior complex or–” Before you could finish your sentence, Zayne had already rushed over next to you and held both of your shoulders tightly. “Where did this come from?”
“Is it because you still love her?”
He completely froze up, letting go of his grip on you as you continued on without even considering him or thinking twice of the things that were spewing out of your mouth, you just needed to get it out of your system. “You come home late and always talk about her condition, you also told me you used to love her a lot. Now tell me, does that justify my reasoning?” It wasn’t but the silence from Zayne you received made sense of your stupid justification. “You grew up with her, Zayne, loved her too, won’t it make sense if there’s still a part of you that still loves her?!”
“You know that that’s not true! I wouldn’t have married you otherwise!”
“Maybe you did marry me otherwise…”
“I swear that this was all just so she could still be alive in time for a donor and then I’ll pass her down to someone else” He explained, looking at you with fear written on his face. “And what if she turns critical again? Then will this entire situation repeat itself?”
“I loved her, loved… Why can’t you understand that?”
“Because love can make you stupid” You blurted out loud, wanting to win the argument, “Because love has blinded us just like how we got married”
You and Zayne had only been married for less than a year. Started dating at 26, got married at 27. Most people in your life had thought you two had gotten married too young. Only dated a year and still in your twenties. Both of your careers alike had just reached its pinnacle, many came to disrespectfully assume that you were pregnant— others thought you wanted health insurance.
To you two, it was love.
It didn’t feel like it anymore.
You had only been together for maybe two years tops. maybe that wasn’t enough to know the other better.
Zayne hasn’t said a single word since, as you stood up and left the room, you turned around to face him one last time and as he told you, “Maybe we really did marry too young”
Back to the present, you sat in your bed in the guest room that was once a storage room of you guys’ wreck havoc as you received a text message from one of your friends that read:
Are u busy tonight? Do u wanna go to a club that js opened uptown?
Oh wait nvm forgot abt ur husband
You haven’t really told anyone, including your friends, about the situation you have with Zayne. To them, it seemed like you two were perfectly fine. In reality, you two only argued at the sight of each other.
It had gotten to a point where you didn’t take back what you said and threw hurtful words towards Zayne who had thrown the same hurtful remarks back.
“Why did we even get married? It could’ve been her”
Those words from last night’s argument rang back inside your head as the anger built up inside you again. You quickly typed "I'll go” and sent it to your friend as you got ready to go out. Usually, if you were going to a place where you know you’d forget something important, you usually kept it in your pocket and never took it out. However, when getting ready, you glanced at the wedding ring that you never took off— not once— throughout the entire storm that’s been brewing between you two.
But tonight— had its effect on you. You slid the ring off your finger and put it in the nightstand next to you as you got ready to leave. You saw Zayne in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee as it looked like he didn’t sleep at all. You felt bad looking at his tired figure when you were just about to go out— all dolled up— to go clubbing with your friends.
“Where are you going?” He asked softly, trying not to sound pissed. The last thing he wanted was another argument after last night.
“A party with friends” You answered curtly.
He took a look at you as he admired how you look, he looked down and immediately noticed the absent ring on your finger, he wanted to say something but he was too tired and you look resigned as well, so he shook his head and swallowed the lump forming in his throat as he pretended to not notice.
He played well, seeing as you didn’t notice how tightly he was holding the coffee mug and the way he was constantly blinking.
“Have fun” was all that he could manage to say.
You didn’t know just how much more he wanted to say.
The party wasn’t fun for you. Being in a loud and chaotic place made you appreciate quiet moments in that suffocating house more and it made you miss the domestic moments you and Zayne had before the argument.
Before your impulsive thoughts took over really…
As the partier got louder, your thoughts grew darker. You forced yourself onto the dance floor as you pretended to have fun with your friends. A couple of hours later, you were well into it and had almost completely forgotten about your husband.
Almost.
You caught a dazed figure of someone who looked like your husband but you couldn’t tell as you had bad eyesight and were too under the influence to think— or even see what is actually there versus what is not.
A man came to approach you as he leaned closer to your ear and shouted “Are you single?” You looked up in surprise and laughed, “Do I look like it?” You asked, it was supposed to be a joke at first, wanting to express a reaction from the man then lead him on and leave him dry.
“You don’t have a ring and you’re in a club. So, can I assume that you are indeed?”
You giggled and wrapped your arms closer to the man. Just a little more, you thought to yourself. Until you felt your friends dragged you somewhere and basically throwing you into the arms of someone, hearing muffled words and someone dragging you outside.
The outside breeze immediately brought you to your senses as you regained your balance and looked at the person who was dragging you out.
Zayne.
You pushed him away as you glared at him and shouted in the middle of the parking lot, “What are you doing here?!” He looked back at you, shaking his head and reaching for your hand. “Let’s talk in the car” You snatched his hand away, “Why did you drag me out, Zayne?!”
He paused, eyes widening, looking at your hand that snatched his away and into your eyes. “Let’s go home”
“No” His expression didn’t falter and you didn’t move either. It was a battle of who gives in first, “please—”
“Zayne, we go home and we argue again is that what you really want—”
“It’s better than people assuming you’re unmarried” He quickly interrupted, the anger boiled up in you as you turned around and started walking towards the street with Zayne quickly following you.
“Just go back Zayne!”
“You’re wasted! I am not leaving my wife alone at night!”
“Stop calling me your wife!” You turned around, facing him. Brows furrowed and frustration building up inside you, “You still think of me as your wife even after all that? Even after blatantly admitting that you’re still in love with Emcee—”
“It wasn’t like that!”
“Yeah it wasn’t, because you married me to maybe prove yourself that you had gotten over her”
“It wasn’t to prove anything”
“Then why do you still hesitate, Zayne? Why is it that I feel like you had married me to prove something and now that you’re getting hit with the realization that this was getting real— the idea of forever is haunting you” Tears welled up in your eyes as it took most— a lot out of you to say the next words, “Do you not see forever with me anymore?”
He quickly shook his head, keeping his hands to himself, afraid to reach out in fear that you will walk away and run away again— maybe this time for good. “I took a vow in front of you and Astra, please do not think of you— us this lightly”
“All we ever do is fight and say things we or we don’t mean to each other to prove something to each other. Is this what’s going to be with us from now on? Forever? Maybe it’s not the idea of forever that you hate— it’s the idea of whom you’re spending it with— me”
Silence passed by between the two of you for a moment. To catch your breaths and to let the weight of the words sink down, you looked at Zayne, trying not to cry. You opened your mouth as you shook with fear saying the next words to come out of your mouth.
“Let’s get a divorce”
All of a sudden, you heard a car fast approaching you two, it was only a matter of seconds to think about what to do when suddenly, you never felt so much more awake and sure— you pushed Zayne out of the way.
And in a matter of seconds, the car hit you instead.
The impact hit you in an instant as you stumbled onto the ground. Zayne ran and hugged you in between his arms. “No— no…” He cried, you looked at him, vision blurring as you felt pain everywhere. You reached out to him, to soothe him a little, tell him you’re alright but you couldn’t do any of it.
You fought every instinct of your life to try and keep consciousness because you didn’t want Zayne to lose you no, in your last moments, you were still as selfish as ever.
“Please, stay awake for me…” He cried, hugging you tighter in his arms. Even a doctor like him would end up a fool in moments where the one he truly ever loved was possibly dying in his arms.
Because Zayne loves you, for the better and worse.
You looked around the gardens, carefully avoiding your family relatives in order not to get caught as you escaped your bedroom. You walked deeper into the gardens and saw the decorated altar, it made you involuntarily smile knowing that tomorrow, you will be Zayne’s wife.
You walked towards the aisle as if he stood in front of you, smiling brightly till you heard a chuckle from behind. You turned around, panicked, settling in before dissipating to see your future husband instead.
Your eyes widened as you ran into his arms and him catching you in the nick of time as always.
“Zayne!” You greeted him with that smile that always made his expression go soft. “Hi there my love, what are you doing awake?” You giggled and hugged him tighter. “I could ask you the same question. What are you doing awake?” He hummed and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.
“Well, I would assume for the same reasons as me”
“And, that is?”
“I was imagining that I want for us to get married right now” You gasped dramatically, “Are you saying you want to give our families a heart attack and get married right now?” He shrugged, “What’s the difference between getting married now and 12 hours later?”
“The difference is—” you lightly smacked him on the chest, “we don’t give anyone a heart attack” He chuckled, kissing your forehead and murmuring “They can handle it, this won’t be the first time we’ll surprise them”
You smacked him on the chest “Zayne Li!”
Zayne’s POV
‘I will love you and honor you all the days of my life’
“Do you love her?” Your father had asked, Zayne looked up and said sincerely, “I do, so much” with so much determination in his eyes. Your father was taken aback and so was the rest of your family. He was asking your family for their blessing as he was planning on proposing to you soon. You two had only been dating for a year but he was already seeing forever in you.
Because you taught him that love was more than the first time.
And he wanted to keep you for the rest of his life.
“But you guys are still young and you’ve only been dating for a year” Your mother interrupted, your father looking resigned, almost convinced of his reasoning till your mother stepped in. “I know that we are still young and inexperienced but I promise to provide for your daughter for the rest of her life and love her till my last breath”
Your parents both looked at each other with uncertainty, your father looking at your mother as he shook his head and smiled at his wife saying “Times have changed dear. We were once like them too, I’m sure they won’t make the same mistakes we did” He looked back at Zayne as he shook his head, “Make sure you treat our daughter right”
“Of course, I’ll love her even if the universe says otherwise”
Zayne had received a call that night, his body froze and his mind went on autopilot. He had no idea how he was able to drive all the way to Akso hospital without getting a speeding ticket. Nevertheless, the moment he saw Emcee strapped onto the stretcher he panicked.
Because he’s scared that it might be you.
He knows you don’t have protocore syndrome like Emcee nor your job required you to be in the front lines however, seeing Emcee’s deteriorating state made him more scared than he ever was in his life. He loves Emcee, platonically, like how an older brother cares for a sister— nothing more than that.
He loved Emcee for years at one point, romantically. But ever since you stepped into his life and showed love can start over again— he learned of his infatuation with Emcee was love in shackles disguised as unrequited love.
Because he never really learned what it meant to love till you.
He swore he would only be her primary care physician until she finds another suitable donor. For now, his mere focus was stabilizing her condition.
And with the demands as a young doctor from his peers and the declining health of his childhood friend— Zayne was slowly dying on the inside.
Because left and right, he was bombarded with demands and expectations that left him no room to breathe as his one and only solace was— you.
Zayne tried to be cool headed in front of you— he really did. His battle wasn't yours to share because, to him, his burdens are not heavy enough to be carried for two.
And in those times, Zayne forgot one thing when he said his vows in front of you.
…to be true in good times and bad.
Zayne wasn't being honest in those times no— in those times, he was battling both internally in his suffering mind and externally, from the pressure he'd receive from the hospital.
He was depressed to say the least, running on days that dragged on inside a body that felt like it wasn't his, he prayed that each passing day would be over and ease up at home with you.
Until one day, Emcee’s condition finally turned stable. The entire room was a mess, with a bunch of resuscitation machines and Zayne performing CPR on Emcee for twenty minutes, trying to find a faint heartbeat— the monitor started to beep.
And beep again till her condition stabilised and everyone felt like they could breathe again.
Zayne left the room and a nurse came by looking for him, he was handed over a chart, looking over and seeing the donor list.
They had found a suitable match and she was the first on the list.
Zayne was overjoyed that day, it wasn't evident in his expression but Greyson, who stood next him could tell the slight curve of his lips reading the chart.
He quickly clocked off as soon as he could and drove straight home in excitement.
“I loved her, loved… Why can’t you understand that?”
“Because love can make you stupid” You blurted out loud.
“Because love has blinded us just like how we got married”
With those words out loud, sent Zayne deeper into a spiral of despair. Which made him blurt out words he didn't mean but said in the heat of the moment to win in the argument.
“Let’s get a divorce”
Zayne knew you didn’t mean it. He wanted you to say that you didn’t mean it. He wished that you’d take it back and say that the idea of divorce didn’t properly cross your mind but the way you hesitated and said it anyway made him truly believe you meant it.
You didn’t see forever anymore.
The drive to the hospital felt like a blur to Zayne, he didn't care if he got one— multiple speed tickets. All he cared about was reaching to where you were— The ER at Akso hospital. The ambulance took your body as they told him to meet them in the ER, once arriving, one of the nurses recognized him. He approached them and said, “Where is my wife?”
It wasn’t a secret that Dr. Zayne Li had a wife, she visited several times and knew how much he adored his wife. The only person who couldn’t see that— was you.
The nurses guided him to where the medics were quick to check on your condition. The doctors there all recognized him as one stepped aside to talk to Zayne. “She got hit on her left side as severe bruises are starting to show. She appears to be conscious but we are taking her to get a CT and X-ray scan to see if there are any internal damages. We promise to take care of your wife Dr. Zayne so please, get some rest”
Zayne felt like he could breathe a little easier, knowing that you were in the hospital— the same one he worked at. He wanted to let his emotions out however, it felt unprofessional to do it in the ER and he didn’t want to burden Emcee tonight, not when she had already been passed to a different doctor and her transplant surgery is this weekend.
So, he went back home and went straight to ‘his’ room. With the adrenaline and shock that had happened the entire night, he couldn’t sleep. And when the adrenaline died down, he cried all night and for the first time— since he almost lost Emcee— he prayed for you to wake up. He was never good at begging, never was the time to demand something because he knows just how cruel fate can be and he had always been good at accepting fate if it’s obvious he can’t fight it otherwise but this— this was you. And he’d defy anything guaranteed just so you could wake up.
By a miracle, you woke up exactly three days later.
Because you were a fighter, and he was always the coward.
And during those three agonizing days waiting for you to wake up, he decided to look for his wedding ring that he abandoned. To find a distraction while waiting for you to wake up and to also finally be true to his vows.
“For better or worse”
He had been failing in uplifting his promise before you but he wasn’t going to anymore. This time, it will be different and this time, no more blaming each other for marrying too young.
Because the love he carried for you wasn’t enough to bring you two out of this misery but it was enough for him to at least try to win you back.
He found the wedding ring inside the closet, hidden beneath his collection of watches that you always joked around being the “only expensive hobby” he had. You never complained of this hobby of his because it made you smile seeing that he enjoyed some luxuries in his life.
You knew Zayne had always grown up to be humble and was always willingly sacrificing himself.
He wore it as he promised to never take it off from this day forward.
When news broke out that you were gaining consciousness, he rushed back to your room to catch you just in time sitting up from the hospital bed.
The relief he felt was shorthand when you woke up as you stared at him with a scowl on your face. He swallowed it and kept an indifferent expression as he drove both of you home, even if it was slowly killing him on the inside that you despised him so much that he’d rather hear spiteful words out of your mouth than give him the silent treatment.
Your silent words were like shooting bullets inside him.
However, he swallowed his own grievance in order to nurse you to recovery because even if you were his wife— you were still a patient. He mentally prepared himself for whatever you were going to throw in his face the moment you got home instead, it was met with more unending silence.
You slowly walked back to your room as he knocked on your door and asked, “Do you want to eat anything?”
And yet, you didn’t answer.
He swallowed the lump in his throat as he went to the kitchen to make you guys a light meal, mad as you were, he knew that you would eat and he would make sure you would— one way or another.
Luckily, it didn’t take much to convince you to eat. Sitting in awkward silence, trying to keep the farthest distance from each other. “Don’t think this erases all of it” You told him, glaring up at him, he avoided eye contact, only nodding saying “I know”
The next few days consisted of Zayne taking care of you and you being unable to say a word. You would try to get him to talk but he would avoid conversation with you, saying that you needed to recover.
At this moment, he saw you as a weak person attempting to recover and it frustrated you.
Once you gained the ability to walk again without crutches, you cornered Zayne when he came home that day. “So now you’re avoiding me.”
“Wait—”
“First, I woke up from my car accident and you avoided me. We get back home and you’re still avoiding me” You said. You were sitting on the couch as Zayne walked closer to talk to you face to face.
“Is this another redemption from your pride? Because if it is—”
“This isn’t a matter of pride anymore!”
Your eyes widened, he raised his left hand enough for you to see the ring on his finger. The same wedding ring you put in his hand as you vowed to be his wife— was on his finger.
The same ring that disappeared somewhere in the middle of the hurricane between you two.
“When you were asleep for three days. I didn’t know what to do. At first, finding the ring proved to be a distraction while waiting for you to wake up but the more I looked for it— I realized that even if you woke up and demanded for a divorce that instant— I wouldn’t let you go without a fight.”
“That I will try to fix this even if your heart has hardened and you wouldn’t even look my way. I wanted to apologize, take back everything I had said, and if Astra permits, start anew with you” He explained, voice shaking and tears falling down from his eyes.
“I regret saying all those words to you. We didn’t marry too young or too immature. We married at the right time, I truly believed that. Because when I asked for your parents' blessing— I told myself that I wanted to keep you for the rest of my life. No matter how long it takes”
“Remember what I had told you the day I proposed to you? When you told me that it was too soon? I said that—”
“I wanted to marry you the moment you took my hand” The two of you said at the same time.
“You remembered…” He said, you shook your head. “How could I not?”
“Please, don’t go forward with the divorce…” He pleaded, begged on his knees for you. Zayne was never the type to beg for anything, he had always let nature decide its course but this moment right now? He would willingly trade anything in order for you not to go with the divorce.
“I never wanted a divorce, I only said that to spite you” You cried admittedly in front of him. Right now, this wasn’t a matter of pride, it was a matter of clearing up misunderstandings and attempting to fix what is left between you two.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” You cried.
“Why are you trying to fix this— us?” You asked, voice quivering. “We hurt each other. So much that most of it can’t be taken back”
“Because I’d rather be haunted by the past and wake up to see you there than to not see you at all” He answered, “I know we can still fix this so please, if I still have room in your heart, will you allow me the privilege of mending things with you? The right way this time”
You took another look at the ring on his finger and back at him. You cried harder, nodding your head which made the heaviness and angst inside Zayne’s heart quickly dissipate. He smiled softly, reaching for your hand and kissed it. “I’m so… so sorry Zayne, I shouldn’t have said any of it”
He cupped your face and wiped the tears falling from your eyes. “I know it’ll take a while but we’ll make it work. We’ll be okay…” He whispered only for you to hear. It was an assurance to both him and you, that the two of you, from now on, will make it work out.
Because Zayne loves you so much he’ll fight for the both of you and you love him enough to let it happen.
Your eyes met him clearly for the first time in a long time. And it took you back to the day that you also took a vow in front of Astra: ‘Until death do us part’ you promised.
“Until death do us part…” You whispered, he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And I will love you, for better or worse” He continued.
Zayne truly believed that you two got over the worst. That whatever bad happens between you two past this will just be futile, fleeting, and you two will be strong enough to get over it. And in the days to come, there will only be happy endings.
With Zayne, it was worth the try.
Epilogue
‘Until death do us part’
You tried so hard not to laugh when Zayne looked at his daughter with the most distraught look on his face and your daughter blinking back at him innocently. “Lia–”
“But daddy, I love him” Your daughter answered back, not knowing the meaning and depths behind those words.
Iliana Li, your daughter. Zayne had always told you that he got your personality and she looked exactly like him. You didn’t deny because it was evident in the way that Zayne was in the middle of an existential crisis and trying to reason his five year old daughter out.
“You’re only five sweetheart” He said, trying to sound as calm as possible and eyeing you a look when you accidentally let out a laugh.
“But you and mom married when you were young too…” She said, giving Zayne an innocent look and those eyes that mostly lets her get what she wants from her dad.
Zayne turned and looked at you, gesturing for you to help him out. You tried to hold back a laugh and crouched in front of your daughter. “But this is different, my love. Your dad and I married when we’re already grown up”
“Then I’ll marry him once I grow up!”
You couldn’t take it anymore and started laughing so hard that you almost lost your balance if Zayne didn’t catch you at the right moment. He shook his head, giving up asking you for your help. “You’re not in love sweetheart, you’re just confu— what the hell am I saying…”
“Language” You and your daughter said at the same time.
Your daughter huffed and walked away from the room disappointed in her father. He sighed and sat down on the couch as you came to approach him and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Is this what your dad felt when I asked for their blessing?” You giggled in amusement. “Most likely my love. I think he grew a few grey hairs just from that conversation”
He shook his head, “I love our daughter so much that I don’t want to give him away to some– kindergartener…” He reasoned out, you shook your head. “She’s only five hon…”
“Did you also want to marry someone when you were in kindergarten?” You nodded your head, “Yeah, we ended up dating until third grade I think? He broke up with me when I stole one of his trading cards that I really liked”
You glanced at him, his face was covered to hide his shame. “She’ll get over it. Who knows? She may wake up tomorrow and decides she wants to be with her daddy forever”’
He looked up at you and kissed you on the forehead, “I pray to Astra she does”
Suddenly, both of you heard your daughter calling you two in the distance, you glanced at Zayne and smiled at him as he smiled back at you, taking your hand, “Thank you Zayne…”
He looked at you with a confused look on his face, “For what?”
‘For this, for fighting for the both of us and being given this privilege of a life…’
“Just… for everything” He smiled and kissed you on the lips.
It all started when Caleb walks into the living room from the gym. You look up, cozy with your tablet and blankets, compared to Caleb's exhausted and sweaty form. Your eyes narrow in on the flash of his abs when he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow.
"Pips?" You blink, realizing he was calling you for a while. Caleb has a knowing grin on his face.
"I asked what you wanted for dinner."
"Oh," you hum, devilish ideas conspiring in your brain. "Not hungry, just want to talk to you for a second." You stare at him, eyes half lidded. "Come here."
He raises a brow, but obliges.
That's how he finds himself on the couch face-up, sweaty tee pushed up to his collarbone, golden ridges of muscle on display for your soppy cunt to glide over. A cute flush on the apples of his cheeks, but not from the gym this time.
"Haah, pips, that's it," his large hands grip your waist, guiding your rocking motions even as his painfully hard cock begs for stimulation. "Take what'ver you need."
Your panties are thrown somewhere, baring your pussy against his abs, thighs quivering. Velvet folds feel like heaven against Caleb's textured skin. Each motion makes your clit catch against the planes of his abs, sending delicious sparks up your spine.
Your pussy squelches, Caleb's abs glossy with your arousal. The sight makes his pants soil with precum embarrassingly quick.
"Caleb," you pant, needily gyrating again and again, legs burning with exertion. Caleb groans low at the sight, mercifully helping you out when his hands grip your hips tighter and lift you up and down against his abs, which have your slick dribbling all over them.
Finally, you come with a broken moan, and Caleb can't help but make a mess in his sweatpants when he feels your pussy quivering and clenching directly against his stomach.
You eye his pecs next, licking your lips.
--
send requests so i can have a reason to further procrastinate my ongoing series
the concept of caleb slowly fucking mc while talking casually to her about how both their days were as if he’s not balls deep in that motha. fuckin. PUSSAYYYY!! and he just whimpers softly every now and then, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and glancing between them watching as his cock pumps in and out of her and he’s just like “what’d ya eat for lunch?”
The World Is Cruel But I Still Love You @rae-221 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
