calebsdog

[calebsdog]

STARRRRR MY LOVEEEE :D

Would love this prompt with either Caleb or Xavi (your choice!!)

a kiss stolen while brushing their teeth together—foam and giggles included.

EMMYYYYYYY thank you so much for sending in a prompt!! <33 this prompt is too cute and fits both of them so well that I did both!

routines

pairing: xavier x reader, caleb x reader (separate) wc: 820 & 738 prompt: a kiss stolen while brushing their teeth together—foam and giggles included. content: fluff, toothpaste kisses, suggestive themes (for caleb, a bit for xav)

Xavier

Mornings with Xavier were soft, languid. Beautiful moments stolen in the early morning light, tangled up and safe in his bed or yours. The weight of his body draped over yours underneath soft blankets lulls you to deeper sleep on the days when you weren't sleepily untangling yourselves to get ready for another day at the Association.

On those days, you turned off the alarm on his phone to get up first, pulling yourself to the bathroom to start the same steps you began every day with. Shower comes first, knowing well you'd both be late if he joined you, your own alarm ringing in the bedroom until Xavier eventually got up to trade places.

He fit into your routine so easily—never folding himself into a spot that didn't fit, but falling easily into step beside you, like he had always been there. Like there had always been a space waiting for him to fill it.

His clear blue eyes are drooping shut this morning, and he rubs at them as he stumbles up to the counter beside you, skin flushed and damp as he pulls his uniform on. The air is still steamy, mirror fogged up as you wipe at it.

You grab his toothbrush from his matching rinsing cup, wetting it with a bit of toothpaste before placing it into his mouth, opened by reflex for you. He hums a sleepy, thankful sound around it.

"Somebody's extra sleepy this morning," you mumble through the movements of your own toothbrush across your teeth. "And that's saying something."

Xavier hums again, blinking long and slow as he meets your gaze in the mirror.

"I was having a good dream," he answers with a long yawn that you worry may dislocate his jaw before he's brushing the other side of his teeth.

"Oh?"

You lean down, spitting out the toothpaste and filling your rinsing cup, listening to his sleepy mumbles behind you with a small smile you can never quite hold back around him.

"Mhm." The brushing of his teeth slows as he recalls the dream. "You were in it."

"Was I?"

"Mm." His voice is lower now when he hums, a deeper rumble in his chest that has you biting your lip to stop from smiling wider. "We didn't have work, so we got to sleep in. You kept kissing me, and you were so warm…"

You grin at him, pinching his cheek as the movement of his toothbrush makes it stick out, rounding his soft face in a way that makes your heart swell with adoration and cuteness aggression.

"My poor bunbun," you coo with a teasing grin. A pout grows on his lips, the handle of his toothbrush hanging from it as you continue to poke and squish his cheeks, giggling when foam from the toothpaste clings to his pout. "Whatever will he do without his morning kisses?"

You barely have time to react to the wicked glint that narrows his sleepy gaze, and you only manage to say a quick "Xavier, no" before the toothbrush slips from his mouth, and he plants a big, foamy kiss right onto your lips.

"Noooo," you laugh and cringe, jokingly pushing his face away as he dives in for more pecks across your lips.

He alternates top and bottom, leaving the minty taste lingering on them as he continues to pull laughter from you. His own giggles join yours, twinkling as bright as the happy golden glow that forms around his fluffy hair, ruffled and still sticking up from sleep.

"Alright, alright," you say, hands on his chest to gently push him away. "Enough of that. We're gonna be late if you steal any more of those, silly bun."

Xavier sighs, leaning over the sink to rinse out his mouth, and you wipe his lingering toothpaste off of yours.

When he straightens back up, he hits you with the wide, pleading blue eyes that you know damn well are the exact opposite of whatever wicked thing he's thinking, whatever plans he's concocting in that sharp mind to get more of you all to himself.

"More later?" is all Xavier ends up asking, so serenely, but you catch the twitch of a smirk on the corner of his lips when you sigh.

"If you're good," you say, unable to hide your own smirk as you wipe a bead of water away from that corner, planting a quick kiss there before dancing out of his grip. "C'mon, we'll grab breakfast on the way."

You spare one more glance back into the mirror to see the lovesick smile that curls over his lips, the soft, dazed look of admiration in his eyes when they meet yours in the reflection.

Like he still couldn't believe how much your lives had intertwined. Like you were the most precious thing that had ever happened to him; something he's been waiting for for a long, long time.

Caleb

Nightly routines with Caleb were like second nature.

Growing up together, you'd shared in everything: sodas, popsicles, cartoon time. Getting ready for school and for bed were no different.

Even if sharing the only small bathroom near your rooms in the old home became a lot more crowded, and a lot less pleasant as you both got into your teenage years. Trying to deal with a pimple that had appeared overnight before Caleb came bursting in to throw on that awful generic deodorant in the morning was certainly an experience, one you weren't keen to ever recreate.

But gone were the days of fighting for the bathroom, elbows thrown as you crowded together in front of the mirror, shoves and annoyed remarks exchanged to get a turn at the sink.

Now you live in a new home; one you had built together, just for the two of you. You settle into each other's side, not so much sharing your own space as it felt like you had both created this one together. No longer two separate entities, but a singular universe you existed in as one.

The only exception to this new content state of life was when he did this.

Standing at the counter with nothing but a towel slung low across his waist, those prominent veins on full display before they disappeared into the white fluffy fabric, beads of water still dripping down pink-tinged skin. You swallow thickly at the condensation that clings across his broad back when he leans over the sink to wet his toothbrush.

"C'mon, pips," he calls to you without even looking back, only sending you a little smirk in the mirror's reflection just to see you huff at his teasing. "Don't be shy."

"I'm not shy," you argue by reflex, immediately elbowing your way in next to him, reminiscent of the old days and drawing a laugh from his chest. His broad, wet, filled out chest. "You're distracting."

"Oh really?" He sticks his toothbrush into one side of his mouth, grinning around it as you busy yourself with grabbing your own. "Is that why you're starin' at me so much?"

"I'm not staring!"

"Riiight."

Another elbow is thrown in his direction for good measure, and he laughs again before you settle into one another.

You lean into each other by habit, and his hand finds the small of your back, brushing up under your pajama shirt to run callused fingers over the sensitive skin there. No ulterior motive, not seeking anything other than the familiar, comforting feel of you after a long day with the Fleet.

He subconsciously runs his other hand over the bits of stubble he hadn't had time to shave that morning, and you admire his side profile in the reflection, unashamed in your attention now that he'd already called you out on it.

The blush that grows across the apples of his cheeks when he feels the focus of your adoration is incentive enough to act on the moment.

"Caleb."

"Hm?"

You pull your toothbrush out of your mouth, tugging his out from where it hangs haphazardly from his lips before leaning up to steal a kiss from them.

The deepening red that spreads up to his ears and down to his slick chest at your unpredicted, stolen affection is delicious.

So you keep stealing minty kisses, giggling into his mouth with each surprised mumble and stutter you extract from him. The sounds slowly melt into hums, content and low as the kisses last longer, elongated like a cat's happy purr as his arm wraps around your waist and tugs you into him.

When you pull back, he exhales slow and giggles softly, nuzzling his forehead into yours.

"Still not used to you doin' that," he breathes, running a thumb across your jaw as he gazes upon you with adoration that had never changed, only deepened in meaning. Or rather, meaning that he lets you see now.

He places a kiss to the corner of your lips, wiping away a bit of foam there.

"God, you're going to ruin me, baby," he murmurs, all dark and gravely in the way that makes your heart race in excitement.

"Mm, hurry up then," you purr, swiveling around to rinse out your mouth, shooting him a smirk in the reflection as he remains frozen, drunk in love. "I'll show you just how much I can ruin you when you're done."

taglist: comment here if you want to be added! blank blogs will be blocked 🍎 Caleb fics: @reit0o @honeymoonfleur @sylvieisoffline @itsmysmut @inzayneforaj @violetpurplez @suguru-getos @k-lq20 @viviiswrr-d @sickleddreamer @shinreiplays ⭐️ Xavier fics: @santaluna @itsmysmut @onigiriinthecorner @inzayneforaj @biblioth-que @needvbunni @whimsicalcup @otome-house @wonys-won @xaviersfluffybunny @a1ienmush 💖all fics: @frostbitten-cherry @asiatic-apple @heartyluv @floatinginaer @sweetcalebb @princessofenkanomiya @lazygelpen @deepspacebunnieblue @cherryartchaos @kireeen @stargirlygirl @draftbeerbibi @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @slovesyouuu @ineffabl-y @grlyeetswrld @toelady @asiaticapple @aenishas @sylusgworl @lamogliedizayne @plasticcardholder @colonelkaboom @plzdonutpercieveme @syncaleb @dailydoseofanimeawesome @wooasecret @glitterykingdomangel @meofary @rchltruly @calistaxoxo24

[calebsdog]

Pain is the first sensation that returns to Caleb's body.

Pain is good, he tells himself before even opening his eyes.

Pain means there's a chance to return home.

If he can feel, he can fight. His body hasn't betrayed him yet.

Though this aching, festering pain is good in the grand scheme of things, he can't pretend it's pleasant. He pushes through the fog, running through the usual checklist of injuries.

Despite the generous helping of scrapes and bruises flaring his skin, there's no life concerning threats on the outside.

It's the broken ribs, the concussion that isn't exactly mild, judging by how this cloudiness pools inside his head, and who knows what other internal injuries he might have sustained in the accident.

It's a grim situation.

Caleb has no idea when rescue will come. If they ever will at all. It could be weeks before he receives proper medical attention.

Or, he could rot out here, all alone. A young man floating on the edges of deepspace. The dented, tin can of his DAA ship eventually cracking under the monstrous pressure.

His busted up vehicle is in critical condition. And Caleb, in his own critical condition, has neither the tools nor the strength to fix this baby up and take her back on course.

Caleb's survival is fully reliant on the DAA deciding that saving his life is worth the risk and resource. Right now, his life is in the hand of a coin toss.

Focus on the pain. If there's a fifty percent chance you'll get to watch the sunrise with her again? It's a chance you have to take.

All there is to do now is wait. Wait, let his mind pick apart every cherished memory, the ones that even the worst of concussions couldn't keep from him, and pray to a God he never quite believed in that he'll get the chance to make more.

"Caleb?"

Huh?

His eyelids are heavy. Every muscle, every limb, begs Caleb to keep lying there, to rest just this once.

More stubborn than any mule, he ignores it all.

The glow of broken monitors, blood red warnings flash, strobing on the screen, beam directly into his corneas. A figure, fuzzy, a blur of shapes struggles to come to focus.

"Hey, pipsqueak."

Forget everything he thought he knew earlier. Caleb is as dead as they come.

How else would he be able to see the little girl whose hand he took so many years ago standing before him?

"Caleb, come play with me."

Caleb is dazed after the crash. But he isn't delusional enough, not yet, at least, to believe you're really out here in the depths deepspace with him.

It doesn't matter that you aren't real. This tinier version of you, exactly as he remembers, does a good job of keeping him conscious. That honey sweet voice fills the void of silence, cradling his frazzled, wounded soul.

The potential dreary wait for rescue doesn't feel so crushing anymore.

"M'a little tired right now. Give me a few to recover, okay?"

"Please? You promised you'd always play with me."

Caleb's promises.

Childish promises, thin interlocked pinkies, were the building blocks of your and Caleb's entire relationship. Without them, he never would have trailed behind, a dog kept on a leash, when Gran carried you out of that lab to their new, first real home.

Caleb's promises had been your only constant in this life. Something you could always rely on when the rest of the cruel world makes your head spin.

Those promises kept that broken, lonesome little girl's feet tethered to the ground through the worst of it. You had been glued to his side ever since.

What kind of man would he be to break his heartfelt promises now of all times? Being half-dead is a weak excuse.

"Alright, alright. I concede." He has to fight a little harder.

Give it your all. Return home in one piece. Don't be a coward now.

"Ngh..." Caleb's whole skeleton protests from the slightest movements. He hasn't made an attempt to get out of his seat until now. His body makes sure he knows it's displeasure with his decision.

"Oof."

He tries to play off how much it hurts to sit on the metal grated floor with you. A smile, more of a grimace, the jagged edges of his teeth grinding together, trying to ease any concern.

He can't bear to worry even this fake, hallucinated image of you.

"What game do you want to play?"

"Hide-and-seek!"

"Hide-and-seek?" He snorts softly, skull throbbing.

"There aren't many places to hide in here. I dunno how fun it'll be."

"Hide-and-seek! Hide-and-seek! Hide-and-seek!"

This hardheadedness is all from Caleb. You had observed him, watched the boy only slightly older than you as you grew up.

Oh, how lucky he is to have you here now.

He had tried to be strong. But surviving out here alone was painfully difficult. Harder than any physical wound he was dealt in the crash.

"Okay, okay! Loud and clear, captain."

It's a relief to close his eyes. Being the seeker is an easy game for him to indulge, even if the ship lacks any decent hiding spot.

"One, two, three... Four... Five..."

There isn't a sound of pitter-patter as Caleb climbs his way to a hundred. He hadn't expected any.

Still, he had hoped his imagination would grant him a few more of these tiny details.

Where will you hide, he wonders. It's been so long since the two of you have played this game. He missed it. He misses so, so many things.

The world goes black.

"Caleb."

"Mm? What, what?" His shoulders twitch. Wake up, his muscles scream, jerking about. She's talking.

"I'm still playing." Caleb doesn't remember falling asleep. He doesn't remember being awake either. What number had he counted to?

Tugging the chains of his exhaustion, his heavy eyelids peel open in a struggle.

The picture of you his mind conjured has shifted. You were still very young, though Caleb will always see you as a child, something soft and sweet, in need of his protection.

Caleb estimates you're around thirteen to fourteen now. Slightly more mature.

At least, that's what everyone else thought. That the bratty, petty little girl had been left in the past, making way for a better, new you.

Only Caleb knew the truth. You're just as much of a cheeky devil as you were back then.

"I can't figure out number seven." A finger, painted a rich orange hue, pokes his fractured shoulder. It phases through his jacket.

"I thought you didn't need my help with homework anymore." His light, tired teasing earns a pouty lip.

"It's not my fault. My teacher keeps giving me these stupid quizzes. My brain is turning into a slushy..."

"Aw, that's no good. You have enough flies living in your head already."

"Caleb!" The poke to his shoulder turns to a punch.

This time, he's relieved that vengeful fist phases right through him.

"Caleb. Wake up. Please, wake up."

"Hm?" The time spanning between consciousnesses is starting to grow. It's getting harder and harder to keep this useless body operating.

Blink.

He's awake for now. It's unclear how long it will last.

You've gone through another change. But this one is a little strange. He doesn't remember ever seeing you like this before.

Were his memories finally failing him? His mind the last cog in the machine to malfunction? He picks apart his brain, wanting to find a match to the image before him.

Nothing. Caleb doesn't remember your hair ever being cut this short. And what were you wearing? Some sort of metal, futuristic cosplay?

"Hey." Everything about this felt unfamiliar.

But he knows those eyes. His body is rotting, falling to pieces around him. But he knows those eyes.

"You're so beautiful."

A trembling, bloody hand struggles to make the distance from the floor to your cheek. He doesn't have to struggle for long. Halfway along the journey, your cold, metal fingers circle his wrist, guiding his palm to its destination.

"Don't make such a worried face. I'm alright."

He's never laid his head in your lap before. It's a distant, fuzzy sort of feeling. Selfishly, he wishes this moment was real. To find comfort in you, just this once, at his lowest.

And give you that same comfort tenfold. His thumb tries to caress the apple of your cheek, too thin for his liking. A smear of his blood sticks, leaving a dirty, shameful mark.

"Don't fall asleep, Caleb. I need you. I'll always need you. Don't go."

It's funny. Hearing those words only makes Caleb less afraid to die.

"Wanna know a secret, pipsqueak?" His lashes flutter.

"I need you too. More than you realize."

Will his honesty earn your hatred? Knowing what you mean to him, how he loves you, only you, with every fiber of his being, in a way he never should?

The last thing he sees is the heartbroken face of his one and only.

"He's still breathing!" The voices are muddled.

Caleb doesn't pay attention to the words exchanged by a group of frantic, bustling bodies. They aren't you. So, they probably aren't saying of any value.

"Start cutting him out! Hurry up!"

Hands are grabbing at him. Warm, real hands taking hold of his battered form, pulling him back from the brink. So much movement around him. Too much to keep up with.

"You did good, Caleb."

His eyelids twitch. There, in the sea of shouting voices, he hears you.

Someone is dragging his limp body out. A large, gaping hole has been cut out of the side of the ship. A gurney waits to take him away from this hellhole on the other side.

All he catches is a short, blurry glimpse. There, in the ship, you don't follow the crowd pulling him away.

This time, nothing is different. It was you the day Caleb left for the DAA.

He's been numb for so long now. But he swears he can feel warmth, life returning, as the vision of you waves him goodbye.

"Come home soon. I miss your braised chicken wings, dummy."

[calebsdog]

"Get off. It's my turn."

Caleb feels the blissful half-asleep, half daydream state slip out of his grasp. The fat of his cheek has soaked the warmth radiating from your chest, skin sticking to the fabric of your oversized T-shirt.

Life isn't fair. If it was, he could relax on your boobs forever. Until the day that he dies.

"Nooope. I've only had my boob time for twenty minutes. We're still on my turn."

Your finger nudges his shoulder, not allowing him to melt into your embrace. A second poke, a third. You know you're close to getting what you want when he sighs.

"I wanna close my eyes. Come on Caleb."

"Urgh." The people you love the most are the most likely to betray you.

His eyes staying shut, Caleb rolls on the couch cushion, feeling you do the same behind him. The pair of you look like twin hot dogs spinning around on top a roller grill.

"Yay!" Just like Caleb moments before, you settle into the slot of his arm, cheek squished to his chest over his heartbeat.

"Boob time."

[calebsdog]

The day Gran brought you home the Sun was missing from the sky. A tattered white hospital gown fits that malnourished figure like a dress, swallowing her whole. Despite the absence of socks and shoes, you appear completely unfazed.

"Caleb, you have to promise you'll stay away from her. She isn't safe."

Josephine may have brought you into her home. But your welcome is far from warm.

The bruised little girl is kept hidden, confined in the moldy basement, secluded in darkness. A pet that stays chained in the yard day in and day out. Gran wears the key around her neck at all times, safeguarding it like her life's purpose.

Caleb doesn't understand why she locks you in that smelly basement. She makes wild claims, saying that you aren't what you look like, that you were dangerous.

But you don't look dangerous to Caleb.

Curiosity, empathy, maybe there wasn't a reason at all. Caleb is compelled. Gran trusts Caleb to heed her warnings. The old woman naps comfortably on her couch. The only barrier between himself and the girl is left unattended around her neck.

Josephine doesn't wake when the chain is pulled over her head. Quiet as a mouse, Caleb unlocks the basement door. Key in one hand, flashlight in the other, shutting the door behind him. Leaving him in the same darkness you have called home for months.

"Hello?" Rotting wooden steps groan underneath his unlaced sneakers. He can't remember the last time he visited this layer of Gran's house. The staircase seems to stretch on forever the further he descends.

He finds you huddled in the corner of the basement. Curdled in a roly-poly pose, hugging your scrapped knees to your chest. Who knows how long you've been sitting so unnaturally, all alone like that. The irritating artificial white light beaming from Caleb's flashlight reflects on your back.

Gran didn't even have the heart to give you a change of clothes. He recognizes that dirty gown, the one you were wearing the day of your brief meeting.

It must get so cold for her.

"Hi!" Caleb calls to you, all smiles and boyish grins. He has to wait patiently for a response. Your neck shifts to look at him...

Her head twists a sharp 180 degrees.

Caleb has seen some owls outside their house doing the same thing. Can a human do that too? He wasn't really sure.

He doesn't linger on the thought. Just because he hasn't seen a human do that before doesn't mean it's impossible, right? Don't make her feel bad for being a little different.

No. Unique. That's a better word for her.

"My name is Caleb. What's your name?" Tucking the flashlight under his armpit, Caleb stretches his free hand out to you.

Beady eyes follow the path of his hand. Silent, not appearing to breathe, you simply do nothing. It's reminiscent of talking to a brick wall.

"This is how adults greet each other. Gran taught it to me. It's called a handshake."

Caleb steps closer. He pulls one boney arm away from your chest, unfurling that hunched posture. Your cold palm clasps with his. Caleb raises your joined hands, giving a gentle shake, wanting to treat you carefully while you're in a poor condition.

"Like this."

Caleb is met with silence still. You must not be talkative. Gran has kept you down here by yourself for a while now. He's confident you'll warm up to him eventually.

Floorboards creak above Caleb's head.

"Uh oh..."

Gran's woken up. If he doesn't get upstairs with an excuse soon, she'll realize he's been to the one place she forbids him from entering.

"I gotta go. I'll come back, okay? I promise!" Caleb spares a critical second longer to intertwine pinkies.

You don't understand the weight of a pinky promise yet. But Caleb plans to keep his word regardless.

Despite all of Josephine's grand promises of death and terrible danger, Caleb leaves the basement unscathed that day. With nothing to discourage him from paying the girl another visit, he plans to go see her as often as he can get away with.

"Come on. You must be starving. Eat something, pretty please?"

"No."

"I haven't seen you eat. Not ever. It isn't good for your health."

"Gross." One of her skinny fingers points to the porcelain plate, bits of food piled in the center, that Caleb was trying to coax her into taking.

"I'm sorry. I had to sneak the scraps when Gran wasn't looking. But I tried to get you some tasty stuff."

Caleb had realized something a few visits back. Gran doesn't bring you food. He was always convinced she took meals into the basement whenever he was asleep in the name of 'keeping him safe'.

No. She's just letting you starve.

Ever since Caleb has grown closer to you he's begun to hold this deep, fierce resentment for the woman he once considered family.

"Just one bite? For me?" He would be over the moon to see you take a single bite. Even if it was only a nibble of bread.

"No." One of the few words Caleb has worked into your vocabulary. It's quickly become your favorite.

"Okay, okay. No food today. I'll bring something different tomorrow. For now, I have something else I think you'll like!"

A doll Caleb stitched together himself, the red pricks on his fingers proof of it, settles into her lap. He's spent a long time trying to build a gift meant just for her.

"She looks just like you." As much as a toy handmade by a child could resemble another person. Her thin, pale face his reference while he brought the lookalike doll to life.

Poke.

Never having seen something like this, your curiosity is peeked. Poking the doll's dangling, fragile head, tapping her soft yarn cheeks.

"Not like me."

Caleb's confidence wavers. It isn't your fault if you don't like his present. But he was a little hopeful after so many sleepless nights trying to make her perfect.

"You don't like her?"

"Human. Not like me."

"Huh?"

Maybe this is just another lesson Caleb has to handhold you through. No adult has ever bothered to teach you. Occasionally, you'll have little slipups like this.

And, fortunately, Caleb never hesitates to explain these unknowns to you.

"Of course you're human, pipsqueak. Just like me."

Caleb digs his thumb into his chest. Over his beating, bloody heart.

"Human."

Caleb, lighter than he touched himself, nudges his finger over your gown. He doesn't question the lack of movement inside your ribcage. He doesn't question anything about you anymore.

You were unique. And so very special. Caleb won't hate you for that like everyone else in your life has.

"Human."

Those eyes, black as night, shift to glance at her chest. A single one of his fingers holds more warmth than the entirety of her body.

"... Human." But you weren't. Not in the least. No matter how similar Caleb believes you to be.

Gurgle...

"Hey. I thought you said you weren't hungry." Caleb's hand falls off your chest, his brow furrowing with worry.

That's all he ever does. Worry, worry, worry.

"The food should still be warm. You'll feel better if you have some."

"Nu-uh."

The stabbing hunger that lives low in your gut, thrashing like a living being, doesn't respond to the dead white meat on the plate. Or the green, sticky vegetables next to the fork.

Caleb couldn't hear it. But your dinner has already been secured for the night. Once he leaves, the unlucky basement rat pittering along the concrete will be all yours. You won't let him find out that the unappetizing mush humans call food isn't what fills your belly.

If he finally sees the wolf wearing sheep's clothing, will the only person keeping you company in this prison abandon you too?

"Stupid boy!" Gran's withered palm strikes Caleb's face.

He's filled out over the years. No longer was he the child who naively snuck into her basement. Caleb was on his way to becoming a man. Already he is too large for Josephine to tame.

He doesn't budge from the impact.

"I gave you a home. Food, clothes, education, I gave you everything! And this is how you repay me? All these years going behind my back, trying to become friends with that thing?"

"She isn't a monster." He's had enough. This hatred has festered, brewed deep inside him over time. He can't stomach watching you be mistreated a day longer.

"You're the monster for everything you've done to her."

"You have no idea what she is! What she's capable of! She'll turn on you the second you stop being useful."

"I would rather that happen than keep her chained like an animal!" The table rattles, his closed fist slamming onto hard wood.

This anger was turning him into a monster too. They were opposing beasts, snapping teeth and tangling claws.

You were the only innocent one left.

"I'm protecting everyone by keeping her in there. I'm doing the right thing."

Josephine was trembling where she stood. She's always viewed Caleb as a grandson. It was her who was willing to turn on him in an instant.

"That demon's curse has spread to you too. All you had to do was stay out of the basement. But it's too late now."

Gran isn't capable of taking Caleb in a fight. Not without assistance. Her fingers curl around the base of a large, gleaming kitchen knife.

"I should have done this a long time ago."

Thump! Thump! Thump!

It could be heard on the other side of the house. Something heavy, something fierce, and something desperately angry was slamming its body against the basement door.

Huh. She's never tried to escape before.

Caleb's human eyes aren't able to keep up with the blurry figure passing in front of him. Just a second ago Gran was standing there, tipping the edge of her blade in his direction.

She's gone so fast. It's like she disappeared.

"No, wait! Stop, please stop!"

The person who has starved you all these years is turned into a meal.

"Hey, kid, watch where you're going."

"Sorry sir." Caleb shuffles, trying to maneuver around the man whose shoulder he accidentally brushed.

"What did you mumble? Speak up. Apologize to me like a man."

It couldn't just be a simple exchange, could it?

"Hey! I'm talking to you. Answer me, punk."

A chill colder than ice pricks the back of his neck. Before he can single out the disturbance, his heart sinks to the depths of his stomach.

A pale girl, not quite skinny, not quite filled out yet, lurks behind Caleb's shoulder. She peaks over his broad figure. Black pupils thicker than his thumb stare unblinking.

Monster, something inside of him whispers before his mind catches up.

"Whatever. Just keep your beady-eyed freak away from me, understand?" He wasn't so tough all of a sudden. Tail tucked between his legs, he scurries just fast enough to escape that strange girl without breaking into a sprint.

"You know you can't eat everyone who tries to pick a fight with me, right?"

"I don't like noisy, inconsiderate humans."

"Ouch. Do I count as a noisy human in that case?"

"You're the good kind of noisy. I like your voice."

Caleb will eternally consider himself lucky. To have met you, to have gotten to know you, only to relearn everything the day they ran away from that old, creaky house. Their shadows had cast over the picked apart corpse they left behind.

"We just got here, pipsqueak. If everyone starts disappearing we'll have to go on the run again."

How long has it been? A month ago since you and Caleb were chased out of the city? This lifestyle was nomadic, trying to balance the ferocity of your hunger while still having a place to live.

It doesn't matter where they end up. Caleb is willing to call any place home. The only condition is that you have to be beside him. If they're forced to leave this place, he'll bring her to another. Until the cycle continues.

"Hypocrite." Half of the bodies in the freezer are his doing. Anyone who gets too close to you, that nearly discovers your secret, or tries to hurt you, those people are nothing more than animals to Caleb.

He's glad there are so many terrible people in the world. You have plenty of options for breakfast, dinner, and even dessert.

"Don't sass me. I'm trying to look out for us." His arm wraps over your shoulders, acting as your guide along the 'treacherous' sidewalk. Your presence sticks out like a sore thumb.

Even at your most human, heads snap in your direction, a growing unease as they realize there is something deeply wrong with the girl wearing the flesh of their species.

Neither of you spare these passing specks of dust in your lives a glance.

"Come on, let's head home. I can hear your tummy making a fuss from here."

[calebsdog]

Guess my mains (easiest edition)

[calebsdog]

Zayne always responds to your silly, affectionate endearments. Even if they aren't always meant for him.

"Sweetheart, what do you have? No! Drop it, drop it!"

Zayne's thumb pauses over the spacebar of his keyboard. Has he done something to upset you? He only intended to send a quick email to a colleague before putting his device away.

"I'm holding my phone. Is something wrong, darling?" Zayne turns his head.

Ah. It seems you were preoccupied wrangling a savage beast. Your cat, who you swear is a little suicidal, keeps her jaw clamped shut, well aware she isn't supposed to be eating whatever she's hiding in her mouth.

"Huh? Oh, sorry Zaynie. Not you." A blue, chewed up cap plops out of her mouth after some struggle. How she got it? You don't want to know.

"I see that." Before she's able to snatch it off the floor, starting up a second round of wrestling, Zayne whisks the dampened plastic out of her reach.

"Should I put her in the timeout corner?"

"Dinnertime, honey."

Zayne could have been spared the embarrassment if he heard the usual popping of a lid. Unfortunately, he was a room over, missing the cat's food plopping into a stainless steel bowl.

"Dinner? Now? Weren't you excited for our reservation this evening?"

"Do you usually eat wet fish flavored mush, honey?"

"... I do not."

"Neither do I. Human dinner is still on the menu."

"Ew. When's the last time you had a bath, stinky baby?"

There was a prolonged moment of silence. Before Zayne's arm slowly unravels from your shoulders.

"I took a shower after my jog this morning. I shouldn't still have a smell."

He looks so embarrassed. Even the possibility of smelling so terrible that you felt the need to call him out on it makes him shrivel away from you, discreetly pulling his armpit away from your nose.

"I'm talking to the stinky demon that rules the house, Zayne. I love the way you smell."

"Oh." Now you've flustered him for a different reason.

"My love? Where are you?"

She's not talking to you. Don't respond.

"Honey? Can you hear me?"

You'll make a fool of yourself.

"Are you ignoring me, mister?"

Mister?

"There you are." The arms of the woman he loves wrap around him from behind. Her chin nuzzles into the warm pocket of his shoulder, holding him captive in her loving embrace.

"Busy working? Is it more important than me?"

"Are you implying I was ignoring you?" He plucks the mischievous hand wandering along his chest. Lifting it, he presses a kiss to each of her cute fingers.

"I was only waiting for your voice to call out to me, my love. I was beginning to worry you forgot all about your poor husband."

[calebsdog]

I eat up CN translations every time. It makes their relationship all the more meaningful to me🥹♥️

I didn't include Caleb for this coaxing translation post (please read it first to understand this post) because it became a Sylus post and I couldn't find the proof even though I remember Caleb saying 哄你 too. It's more complex when he says it because of the older brother [figure] (depending on how you see it) role that he adopted early on. Using this phrase emphasises further on how much he loves to dote on you.

An example is when you throw a glass of water at him in the main story and he calmly asks if that makes you feel better instead of getting angry. Implicit in that is he'd let you throw more if it could soothe your feelings. Caleb also likes to gently bargain with you to make you do the things he deems are good for you. The Solace secret time is him being understanding of how sick you feel, but that you still need to eat. Wanting you not to worry because he's got everything, he'll feed you while you lie comfortably, so just eat. Sometimes he'd also promise a reward after, right? That's peak 哄 in a relationship.

[calebsdog]

Gran was ecstatic when Caleb got his first job. It's been a struggle to be the sole breadwinner for herself and two hungry, growing children these past couple years.

Now that he was old enough a summer job was the perfect fit. It wouldn't get in the way of his studies and the man running the antique shop seemed kind enough to earn her approval.

And maybe, in a few years, Mc will follow in his footsteps. This was the perfect time for Caleb to set an example. The two of them can't rely on allowance forever.

Allowance. Back in her day, there wasn't such a thing as an allowance. You did your chores or faced the consequences. Time changes everything, she supposes.

"Caleb?" There's a cold, sinking feeling in Josephine's chest when Caleb returns home one day, a box wrapped neatly with a bow tucked in his arm.

"Isn't it a little early for you to be home?"

"Nah. I don't work there anymore."

Every penny Caleb had earned was washed down the drain. Perhaps she had been the fool to ever feel hope in the first place. To think she had been looking forward on help with groceries this week...

"Freeloaders," she gripes from her rocking chair, watching Caleb's self-satisfied expression when Mc opens the hard-earned toy gun.

[calebsdog]

Blegh

Caleb x female reader

Words: 1.6k

Content: reader is described as liking heavier music (ranging from rock to metal), fluff, canon-typical angst

a/n: this is dedicated to all my fellow lads players who love darker music and wonder if caleb would be into it

"Hey, pip-squeak," Caleb yells over the frenetic pounding of drums.

He takes another step into your room, trying again to get your attention. His raised voice barely rises over the lead singer's fry scream, but thankfully, you turn the knob on your speakers and plunge your bedroom back into blessed silence.

It's an effort not to grimace. His brain feels like it's about to leak out his ears, and there's an incessant ringing that just won't go away even after you've given him silence.

"I'm tryin' to finish my homework," he scolds, head throbbing too hard to stop the bite in his voice before he notices it.

Strike one.

"You know I'm in high school now. I can't afford to get bad grades."

Strike two. Yeah, of course she knows. Are you really mansplaining this to her right now? Abort mission, abort!

He should just leave it at that. But his mind replays that horrendous sound that sliced through his train of thought and ruined his laser focus in the room across from yours.

How can you stand to listen to this noise?

Somewhere between thinking it and speaking to you like a disappointed parent, his wires get crossed—and he stupidly asks that one forbidden question aloud.

Strike three.

After that colossal fuck-up, he spends a week trying every trick in the book to earn your forgiveness. At first, you don't budge. And he can't blame you.

You're both hormonal teens, navigating what feels like a world too big for the both of you. Sometimes, it's the little things—like being told your favorite music is noise—that feel like life-ending ordeals.

So he sits at his desk for hours, researching the music you love. He never wants to see that look on your face again, and he certainly doesn't want to be the cause of it.

It's bad enough people already treat you like some kind of weirdo. No matter how much Caleb might scare the living daylights out of anyone who tries to bully you, he’d done the one unthinkable thing and became your bully by insulting your taste.

He doesn't need to understand it, he knows that. But he wants to. He's desperate to know which bands are your favorite, why you like them, what draws you to this genre when you're so quiet compared to the heavy music you adore.

After countless opened tabs, half-listened playlists, and hours spent scouring the internet for the perfect gift that says I'm so, so sorry, Caleb finally rests his bleary eyes and ringing ears.

Tomorrow morning, you'll wake up to a new Linkon Park CD slid under your door—and another of his forgiveness coupons to add to your collection.

"Hm, nah, this is death metal," you explain with a thoughtful pout.

Caleb chuckles at that cute look of concentration on your face. By now, he already knows you're more drawn to other subgenres like prog or nu-metal. Just the fact that he even knows the differences would be enough to make younger him gasp in awe.

Admittedly, he still prefers his own quieter, more relaxed music. But his time at the DAA has taught him to overcome more than just the overstimulation of your Dotify playlists.

That’s why he was excited to bring you to the hottest record store just outside of Linkon. The traffic was well worth seeing your beaming smile now. You rifle through the rock and metal sections of their collection, and Caleb stands beside you, helping you search for your favorites pressed into timeless vinyl.

"Hey, isn't this that band you love?" He nudges one record sleeve toward you. "Uh, Slumber Tribute, right?"

Even without glancing at the name on the spine, he already knows it’s that one album you adore just from seeing the cover art. Pride bubbles in his chest when you gasp happily and grab the record from him.

An excited squeal leaves your lips, and Caleb’s heart hammers at the sight of your eyes lighting up with joy.

"Oh my gosh, yes," you exclaim, then glance around conspiratorially. "Although the metal snobs might argue that they shouldn’t even be in this section."

You giggle at your little inside joke. Caleb pretends to understand it, but his laugh is genuine when he sees how animated you get talking about this band.

The rest of the trip is spent browsing through other records, thumbing through various bands he’s learning about now—like Swedish Ghouls, HangmansKnot, Dark Sabbath, and 23 Centimeter Nails. Stuff you say might be easier for him to dip his toe into if he wants to listen to more of your music.

For now, he takes your word for it and prays he’ll have the mental fortitude to hear your songs on repeat for the rest of his visit.

The colonel of the Farspace Fleet doesn’t smile.

Except when he’s alone, earbuds hastily shoved in his ears to erase the sound of the day’s droning orders, roaring engines, and his own agonized screams echoing through glass chambers and dark testing rooms.

One would think after all the stress of being a colonel, he wouldn’t want more loudness in his free time. They’d be wrong.

A couple of years ago, around the time you started collecting records, he made copies of your favorite playlists and saved them in the cloud. He’s glad he did, because the explosion took everything from him.

No dog tag to kiss before each mission. No shared photo albums with your smiling face to look at when he feels lonely. Nothing to cherish and keep when he struggles to remember why he's putting himself through this torment in the first place.

All he has are those carefully crafted playlists.

Caleb mourns more than just the time he’s lost with you over the past year. He wishes he could go back to when he was a teen, close his eyes, and really listen to your music.

He wishes he could have understood the depth of emotion, the call to rebel and be free, the ache of something raw yet alive—and the release of frustration so pent up it burns in his throat along with the wails of guitar.

The first time he listened to your playlists after Ever’s hands had closed around him, he cried. He sobbed all through the night, until he woke from a restless slumber with a dull throb in his head. But it wasn’t from the music this time.

He couldn’t remember why there were dried tear tracks on his face. Or why faint music played from fallen earbuds.

It took him two days just to recall the name of the person who had shown him those songs he’d woken up to.

Now, he listens to your favorite music nearly every day. When he preps for takeoff, he softly hums the notes of an electric guitar from that song you used to play on repeat in your second year of high school.

When he can’t fall asleep in his barren home, he plays the music through his phone’s speakers to drown out the irritating silence. Sometimes, he even sings along, daring himself to be loud and boisterous—to feel like himself again, instead of just a husk of who he used to be.

In those moments, he finds himself smiling. He wonders if you’re listening to the same songs right now, miles below in Linkon. Maybe you’re singing with him.

"No way! Are these real? You’re not playing a prank on me, right?"

Caleb grins at how you turn into a younger version of yourself so easily. All he has to do is shell out some money for front-row tickets to one of your favorite new bands, and now your eyes are shining like he’s personally handed you the moon.

"They’re real," he replies with a chuckle. "One for you, and one for me."

He watches realization slowly dawn on your face, and he holds back a snicker at the mental gymnastics you’re clearly doing.

"What’s wrong?" he asks with a smirk. "You still like this band, riiight?"

"Of course I do," you cut in, not wanting to give up such a generous gift. "I really want to go. But are you sure you’re alright tagging along? It’s going to be really loud."

He’s known this day would come ever since you fell back into his orbit. He hasn’t told you yet how your music kept him sane and alive all this time. Maybe it’s better if he just shows you.

That night, Caleb is the one teaching you a few things about the latest bands in the metal scene.

You listen intently, a gorgeous, content smile on your face while his phone plays the song he’s been waiting to share with you. He found it a few days ago and latched on quick, immediately thinking he’d struck gold by finding a track that felt like it was made for you. And he was right.

Your eyes close as you nod along to the complex guitar riffs and soaring melodies, broken up by the nastiest growls from the lead vocalist. Your nods turn to headbangs, eyes peeking open to see if Caleb will poke fun at you.

But he wouldn’t dare now. Not anymore. Not after finally coming to terms with what makes this music so special.

If you want to listen to anthems for the outcasts, then you'll be outcasts together. Like two lost planets orbiting each other in a universe of your own making, with the shared backing track of your choosing. Just the way he likes it.

Want to be added to my tag list?

💕 tag list: @heartyluv @doeeyes515 @lethalasylum @starryeyed-apple @starlitreviews @craeatio @rafayelslittlestar @ruralamours @alyssac9 @blushofeve @alastor-simp @nezuswritingdesk @yoonights @ashirelle @jamfingers @decadentwastelandpoetry @yrdarlingpup @asiaticapple @spidermanlaalalalala @partycityyyyyyy @raendarkfaerie @sweetcalebb @mikenotmic @jenvhae @kaeyasfuturewife @purpleamethyst25 @grapeees16 @pepitesingulare @opalesquegirl @bitewiththis @crimsonsylus @brekkersgf @lamogliedizayne @suguru-getos @wooasecret @dreamerofthewest @2004crows @amentallyillchild

🍎 tag list: @walleeli @honeymoonfleur @stargirlygirl @floatinginaer @k-lq20 @sweatybonkhumanoidranch @gravity-pilot @honeycrispangels @mcdepressed290 @cloudedangels @hdigditditdjgd @yansolivan @variadims @batteryacidkeepsyousane @calebsbabyapple @kiyadeleine @angeleclair @syncaleb @rafsbeloved @xiaprint @thesevro @aoinili

all graphics created by me, please don't repost

[calebsdog]

Nooo Infold... Don't show me the full extent of Caleb's Evol... Or CalebMc's resonance... That'd be so scary haha...

[calebsdog]

Everyone saying this would be a spicy banner...

ALL OF THESE ARE THE SILLIEST CARDS SO FAR 😭 (affectionate!)

[calebsdog]

"Caleb?"

"Yeah?"

"Where do you wanna be in ten years?"

"Hm..."

Caleb takes the model airplane wing you hand to him. Until now you've been sitting in comfortable silence. Eventually, silence turns into random, pointless questions. As if you have not known Caleb your entire life.

There will always be a hunger to learn more.

"I dunno. I can't think of a specific place." Caleb glances up from his work. You catch glimpses of purple peeking through brown hair.

"What about you?"

"I don't think of a specific place either. But I'd wanna be away from the city. We've been in Linkon and Skyhaven our whole lives. I want a change of scenery. The kind of place I can have a pretty garden and a porch swing to read on, you know?"

"Huh... Yeah." His fingers brush your leg, picking another piece off the carpet.

"That does sound nice."

"Hey, Caleb. Where do you see yourself in ten years?" Gideon is ever so slightly tipsy. You've coaxed a slightly reluctant, introverted Caleb into attending a double date.

More than just enjoying a night out, you hope Caleb stops flexing your wonderful, happy relationship to a single Gideon every five seconds.

"Far away. Not close to a city. Somewhere I can grow a garden and build a porch swing."

Gideon raises his brow.

"Wow. I didn't expect an answer like that from you."

"Huh? Why not?"

You weren't expecting an answer like that from Caleb either. When you asked him your similar question he seemed pretty uncertain. Now he didn't even take time to think before replying.

Caleb decides when it's time to head home. He opens the passenger seat before your fingers can touch the handle, escorting you inside your chariot.

"Hey. Look." His elbow nudges you in the ribs. Following his gaze, you see Gideon typing his number into his date's phone. Caleb waggles his eyebrows.

"You're such a child," you whisper. You'll celebrate Gideon's little victory enough for two. Once you're inside, dress safely out of the way, he closes your car door.

Also a little tipsy, Caleb's shoulder is your pillow on the drive home.

"Caleb? How come you gave Gideon the same answer I gave you earlier?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Caleb's larger, warmer fingers fiddle with yours.

"I want to be wherever you are. You're in the pilot's seat, Colonel. Our future is in your hands."

[calebsdog]

I wish I could make words write themselves. No, not with AI. With

Magic

[calebsdog]

"Young lady? You're going to kill yourself like this."

The cemetery, home to Caleb's final resting place, doesn't receive many visitors. Flowers wither, the decorations and trinkets get blanketed by white snow, and names on gravestones rot into an ugly, moldy brown.

But there was one person you keep running into. Every day like clockwork, an elderly woman visits the headstone to Caleb's right.

Someone her age shouldn't be out in the elements like this. The paper thin skin hugging her frail bones could split at these below freezing temperatures.

Months ago, before your world tilted, you wouldn't have hesitated to voice concern for a poor stranger. Nowadays striking conversations took more energy than you can persevere.

"What do you mean, ma'am?"

"I see you everyday. You're too young and pretty to waste your life visiting a cemetery."

Yellow home-knit gloves brush excess snowflakes off of vibrant pansy flowers. They were resilient even at this time of year. The purple petals are as bright as they were in spring.

She must have been thinking ahead for the winter months, planting flowers that would survive the entire year. Her husband's grave looked beautiful, well-tended in comparison to Caleb's. Maybe you should take a page out of her book.

"You visit everyday too," you mumble, rubbing your frigid, bare hands together. It was a work day. You never bother heading home first to change out of your hunter's uniform.

Your schedule consists of driving to your office, staying at the graveyard once you clock out, and only returning home once visiting hours run out. It's been months since you've taken a break in this routine.

"I'm old, dear. I chose to settle down with my husband decades ago. My life is coming to a close. Nothing is wasted if I visit him everyday."

Slowly, she struggles to sit her weary body on the snowy ground. It was uncomfortable for you, still in your prime, to sit on the frozen dirt like this. You can't imagine how she feels.

"You have your whole life ahead of you. It's painful to lose someone you love, no matter what age you are. But I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't want you to be this heartbroken."

"He's not my-"

Huh. The words had died in your throat. Caleb was a friend, the first family you knew, everything but a boyfriend.

Visiting his grave everyday must be taking a toll on you. You don't have the energy to correct this older woman innocently mistaking Caleb as your deceased boyfriend.

"How am I supposed to move on? I wouldn't want to date anyone he doesn't approve of. But he's not here for me to ask anymore."

"Do you believe in an afterlife?"

"I don't know what I believe."

"Well, maybe you can start from there. It might be easier to think he's out there somewhere, still watching over you. He'll send the right person to take his place."

Wouldn't it be nice if it were that simple? No, you don't want Caleb to be looking out for you, even in the afterlife.

He would be so, so disappointed to see what you have become. A shell of the person he grew up with, only living to visit his grave. A grave filled with ashes that don't belong to him.

They weren't able to find a trace of his body after the explosion. Every part of him was gone. All except that stupid necklace. It was a gift for him. You weren't supposed to be the one wearing it.

"But if I don't visit him everyday... What if he thinks I'm forgetting about him?"

All of these graves around you, so many people you don't know, so many lost loved ones. They all used to be someone's family, someone's friend. But you were alive to witness their resting place deteriorate, times between visiting family increasing, until they stopped coming all together.

Is that how Caleb's grave will end up if you quit visiting? All alone, truly dead to the world, nobody around to preserve his memory or keep him company?

"If healing means abandoning him, how can I possibly move on from this pain?"

The hot tears pooling in your eyes sting in the dry, cool winter air. Sniff... And, of course, your nose wants to cause you extra suffering, already clogging.

It's been a long time since you've cried over Caleb. Even longer since you've cried in front of someone else because of it.

All it took was one conversation with a stranger to unearth everything you haven't been able to say. Someone going through their own loss seeing you, calling you out, and forcing you out of this shell.

"Sweetheart, would you like a hug?"

In the blink of an eye, the only family you had ever known was taken from you. Reduced to ashes, pieces of them never recovered.

Once you were released from the hospital there were two funerals to attend in one day. As Gran and Caleb's only surviving family, you needed to be there.

For months you've held your head high. Arranged their burials, comforted those affected by the losses, and never let anyone know how much you were breaking.

"Please." You needed a hug. Desperately. It doesn't matter who it was from.

"That's it. Just let it all out." She shuffles in the snow, making a mess of her nice pants, to make her way to you. Her old arms tremble as they wrap around you, tucking her chin over your shoulder.

It's been so long since you've been held like something delicate, something precious.

"It's not fair! It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair! I wish I was dead instead of him! I wish I... I wish I..."

Your choked sobs are lost, carried away by the winds in the cemetery.

"I know, dear. I know." It doesn't matter how powerful this grief is. You would give everything you had, pay any price, to go back in time and take Caleb's place.

He should be the one to bury you, not the other way around. He's left you to suffer in his absence. Pain, misery, it would change nothing. Caleb was a headstone now. For the rest of time he's trapped here.

Born in the summer, lost to the world in the spring, left to rot through a bitter winter.

Turning your head, you see Caleb staring thoughtfully at a sign. On it are the words 'Deepspace Aviation Administration Memorial Cemetery.'

"You're not thinking about..."

"Yeah. I am. Where's my grave at?"

Today was meant to be dedicated to picking up Gran's death certificate. Knowing Caleb wasn't sure where she was buried you invited him to pay a visit.

It's been months since this place crossed your mind. Life has changed drastically since you had found Caleb, alive and somewhat whole, far away in Skyhaven.

Now, when you want to visit Caleb, you take a train instead of taking a trip to his grave. Something you were once convinced was impossible.

"You want to look at your tombstone? Don't you think that's a little crazy?"

"Not really. Isn't it basically forward-thinking? Come on, lead the way."

The situation was really bizarre. But you can't think of a good reason why Caleb shouldn't be allowed to visit his own grave.

With a sigh, you concede to his wishes. Threading your fingers with his, the two of you walk underneath the memorial sign, going deeper into the cemetery.

The graveyard was barren as usual. No visitors in sight, headstones still molding from a lack of care. The only difference was the changing of seasons. Spring is starting to grace Linkon.

No visitors in sight. Except for one familiar, kind face.

"Oh dear! It's been a while since I've seen you. I missed you. But I was glad you stopped coming here."

Clear droplets of water leak from the tip of her gardening can. She sets it down on a bare patch of grass, wiping specks of dirt off on her clothes. Her warm gaze drifts between you and Caleb.

"You brought someone else to visit?" She steps forward, offering her now clean hand for a shake.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. My name is Ca- oof!" An elbow to the ribs cuts Caleb off before he gives his honest introduction.

God forbid the woman who stands next to Caleb's grave everyday finds out you brought Caleb himself.

"My name is... Carlos."

"Hm." Graciously ignoring that odd behavior, something brought a smile to her face. Following her eyes, she's looking at your hand. Still comfortably intertwined with Caleb's.

"Your eyes aren't puffy anymore. And you're wearing such a beautiful smile. Thank goodness you aren't so skinny now. This young man takes good care of you, doesn't he?"

Without you having to say anything she can already tell. Caleb, or as she knows him, Carlos, is your boyfriend.

"Are you happy, sweetheart?"

"Very much, ma'am."

"Wonderful. I'm so proud." Her weather hand reaches up, cupping the swell of your cheek. There was no need to ask for permission to touch you. She's already become family.

"I told you he's still watching over you. I think your boyfriend would have approved." The woman gestures her head to Caleb's not-so-permanent resting place.

"Yes ma'am. I think he would approve too."

"Good. Well, unfortunately, I should be heading home now. My Mavis gets fussy if I don't feed her on time ," she picks up her watering can, fondly reminding you of her cat.

"I'm happy I ran into you and your boyfriend today. Keep taking care of her, okay? She's a good one."

Caleb has been staring at his tombstone in silence while you spoke to her. When she addresses him, patting his shoulder in farewell, he snaps out of thought. Solemnly, he nods.

"Of course. She's safe with me."

You and Caleb watch as she leaves the cemetery, her boots barely leaving dents in the fresh grass. Just as she's almost out of sight, something beautiful catches your attention.

"Ma'am! Did you do this?"

Bright purple pansy flowers have spread from her husband's grave. Now, Caleb's headstone was being embraced by those same delicate buds.

"Yes! You said you were afraid he would be forgotten. Somebody had to be there to take care of him while you healed."

And with that, you are left alone with a very alive, breathing Caleb.

"So, boyfriend huh?"

Careful not to ruin her gardening work, Caleb takes a seat on the ground in front of his tombstone. Earlier, he made you believe he was determined to pay himself a visit. But since you've arrived, something is making him look super conflicted.

"Yeah. She thought I was visiting to pay respect to my boyfriend. I didn't feel like correcting her."

An uncommon silence envelopes you when you sit next to him. Both of your eyes reread the bold letters etched permanently into stone.

Caleb Xia

"Do you... Do you still love him?"

Caleb's thumbs twiddle with the grass beneath him. His grip not quite tight enough to uproot the blades, but still twisting the tips. He looks like a child.

It's strange. You swear you've heard Caleb ask this same question before. Only, it had been worded differently back then.

'Do you miss the old Caleb? The one who wasn't so dangerous?'

"Of course I still love him," you say honestly. The truth may hurt him. It shouldn't.

"He was the Caleb who first held my hand. He was the Caleb who taught me about the world. Who helped me become the person I am today. I could never, ever stop loving him."

Caleb is so preoccupied fidgeting, venting his frustration on innocent plant life, he doesn't notice you leaning in. Until your warm cheek, plump from so many home cooked meals, uses his shoulder as a pillow.

"And the Caleb with me now is my first love. He gave me my first kiss, my first relationship, my first... You know. I'll never stop loving him either. No matter how much he changes."

A gentle breeze ruffles the pansy. It was the warmest day of the month. Almost as warm as the person beside you. A long, lonely winter is coming to a close.

"Thank you. For coming back to me."

Pluck!

The sound of a stem snapping catches your attention. Going to lift his head, ready to scold him for coldly murdering one of the gorgeous flowers, a touch softer than the spring breeze grazes your ear. Petals tickle your face.

"No, thank you. For loving every version of me."

[calebsdog]

gilded dreams

★pairing: king of darknight!xavier x f!reader/mc ★wc: 2.7k ★content: spoilers for where stars scatter myth. smut, throne sex, piv, praise kink, biting kink, claiming. angst, internal monologue, yearning, mutual pining, obsessive & possessive xavier, with mentions of his previous lies. inspired by the gilded dreams secret times. ★masterlist

You can't recall just how you ended up in this position. It's hard to think at all with the strong arms wrapped around your waist, cool armor pressed to your chest through the thin cloth of your dress with each slow, deep roll of his hips upwards into yours.

You know it started with the clash of steel and the strong scent of iron permeating the air. Just moments ago you ran through the halls, your heart in your throat and your staff of light materializing in your hands, only for the assassins to be evaporating to dust by the time you rushed into the main hall.

And there he lounged on the throne he had always rebuked, no evidence of a struggle other than the hilt of the greatsword still clutched in one gauntlet, the other bare hand unhurriedly wiping at a smear of dark red across his cheek.

Your king. A dream long before that, a distant light of happier memories, forgotten in centuries of darkness, of waiting. And even longer before that, he had been a companion. Your dearest friend.

"Xavier," you had breathed, just for that briefest of moments where you got to see him nearly falter from the taunt of familiarity in your tone, leaving him wondering if it was yet another dream of you.

You were by his side in an instant. Like you had been trained to do, like the instincts to never be parted from him that still sang in your pulsing blood urged from you.

"That's not my blood," he brushed aside your concerns over him, and you laughed, dark and bitter under your breath.

Like you're not used to his lies. Like you're not the only two beings in this entire world with blood still rushing through your veins.

It is a strange thing, to see him bleed. Even though he is now a familiar face once more, the feelings you'd harbored for countless ages surging up like waves to crash relentlessly against the shore of your mind each time you see him now, there are still so many things you can't remember of your time together.

Had he gotten injured before? If so, were you the one to bandage him up? To heal him with your own hands, to nurse him back to health?

That was how it had started. Fixated on his blood, still wet on your thumb when you wiped it off his chin, body tensed in tune with the subtle hitch in his breath.

The rest is still a blur, intoxication from closeness that had once been so well-known, still etched bone-deep within you when you sat yourself into his lap. Setting yourself as the perfect, pretty bait.

The King of Darknight's whispers, all temptation and dark promises, wrap around you, ensnaring you to him like he was the one who set the trap. A tether of light and darkness, forces forever at play, two halves of a whole made to move in coordination.

He leans back in his throne, gauntlet curled loosely around your waist, tightening his grip on you when you easily shift forward into his chest. Following that natural instinct to stay close, to always stay together.

You struggle with his armor, on a single-minded quest to find his elusive injuries, and he doesn't let you.

He never lets you see him without those walls, to let you have all of him. Even as he himself yearns for you, as he effortlessly demands for all of you, to reclaim every little part that had been lost to him through the cruel, relentless passage of time.

From the charming, gentle prince you'd grown alongside to this Mad King, the Sinner of Philos. A mystery that tenses under your desperate, wandering hands.

It's not fair. It has never been fair with him.

You're frustrated, and he can feel it. Xavier's grip goes lax around your wrists, allowing you to toss useless pieces of armor to the ground. He lets you feel for the soft skin of him, proof of his existence, of his promised return, his body still hidden underneath dark robes that are nothing like what the man you had once loved would've worn.

All the while, he murmurs into your ear, dark words that curl around your spine and dance in shivers down it to the base. Heat pools in your stomach as he urges you on, to take what you want from him, what you need from your king.

Your wit matches his in breathless banter as much as your swords once met in friendly duels, practice bouts to exert your frustrations out in a time long past. A failed exam or an overbearing father, things had seemed so much simpler then, like there were so many places you could still run away to.

Maybe if he had taken your hand and urged you to elope just one more time, told you once more of that beautiful, little planet just for the two of you, you would have gone.

But you're here instead, rocking forward in the Tyrant's lap, hot pleasure sparking from where your clothed core rubs over the curved edge of his growing arousal, still trapped within the dark confines of this new garb of his lonely reign.

He teases you, like he'd always done. It's both familiar and entirely unknown, looking down into sharp blue eyes that watch your every increasingly desperate move with rapt intrigue that bleeds into something darker.

His own affection you'd overlooked in your youthful, blind infatuation grows teeth and claws that dig into you with hardly contained obsession, grown in the dark of centuries without you.

You scramble for the fabric constraining him as his hands glide up your legs, lifting your skirt.

There's no pretense, no buildup when the weeping head of him catches on your dripping entrance. There is only pure relief when you ease down onto him, until you're both where you had always belonged.

It's addicting and entirely unreal, to know this is your sworn knight sinking inside of you, even with the dark crown weighing atop his head as his forehead rests against yours.

His heated breaths warm your parted lips as you eagerly accept him. Your wet heat sucks him in bit by bit until he's as far as he can get, holding onto you for dear life, like he expects to blink awake to you gone again.

He lifts you slowly, as easily as he does that monstrosity of a sword that lays forgotten beside his throne now that he has you in it. You moan in unison when he brings you back down again, sinking into you as much as the reality of this slowly sinks in, as impossible as it seems to finally have this moment.

"Listen to you," Xavier sighs, pure relief and idolatry twisted within him as you sink down onto him again under his careful guidance.

His hands are as steadfast as they had always been, even as they had seen so much more violence in your time grown apart. They are gentle again when they remember the feel of your skin against his.

"You're so wet, my queen," he praises, lips skimming your ear.

And you hear it, the squelch of your body taking him intimately under the low, heady tone of his praise.

You whimper, burying your face into his hair, tangling your fingers into the long, soft strands.

"Don't say—"

He bucks his hips up, smacking his hips against yours, loud and wet, and it steals the breath from your lungs.

You suck the air back in with a choked whine when he pulls back out almost entirely, just to sink slowly back in, grinding his hips up against yours when you're seated on his lap once more.

"What was that?" he murmurs, all dark, smug satisfaction.

You punch him in the shoulder out of reflex, hearing the taunting of a lost duel from your academy days buried underneath the ingrained arrogance of an uncontested leader of a fallen kingdom.

Your face buries against his neck, sweat beading at the nape of it from his carefully controlled exertion, even as he hangs on the edge of losing it. Your tongue laps out, mindless in your consumption of him, and you both moan again when he twitches deep inside of you.

"Don't say such obscene things," you demand, your fist curling into his robe, holding onto him when he bucks up into you again, and again, jostling you in his lap with each mind-numbing jolt of pleasure.

"You don't like it?" he taunts, and you wrap yourself around him, arms around his neck so tight that you hear him suck in a sharp breath.

You relax your grip just slightly, but he holds you closer, encouraging you to claim him, to make him yours.

You hold on for dear life with each drive of himself inside of you, as far as he could reach so as to leave a space for himself in your very being, so you never forgot him again.

His obsession is thinly veiled now that you're joined like this, with the echo of forget him in your ears even as he was unknowingly making such a demand impossible. Your mind drifts farther and farther into a golden haze, reminiscent of the way he once used to glow whenever you made him happy.

"But your entire body is responding to me so well," Xavier praises, and your head tilts back.

His lips attach to your neck to plant wet kisses along the length of it when you present him with another ripe opportunity to claim you. To leave his mark so you would remember the feel of him, the weight of his presence, the certainty of his devotion whenever you were apart—which you never would be, if either of you had a say in the course of fate, try as you both did to master it.

"Aren't you?" he urges, confident even as he yearned for your confirmation, your pleasure, for you.

You moan, quietly, then louder when the nails of his bare hand slip underneath your dress to dig into the soft plushness of your thigh.

"What did you say, my queen?" his dark voice takes on a melodic lilt, teasing again, with that newfound arrogance that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine when he was seated this deep inside of you.

"I am a queen no longer," you answer instead, clinging desperately to familiar banter, trying to ground yourself as the wet smacks of your lovemaking echo in the long, empty hall. The place you'd once waited centuries for him, and where he had waited for you long after.

"This throne belongs to the both of us," Xavier assures you, kissing along your collarbone, tugging the neckline of your dress down to suck bruises into the soft skin of your breasts. "It is yours as much as mine. Do we not make such a claim on it now?"

He lifts you up with his armored hand to yank you back down onto his throbbing cock, filling you again suddenly and completely, as if to drive any lingering doubt of his affection from your mind, and you cry out for him.

"I—" you pant heavily, searching for the thoughts that successfully scatter from your mind. "We never wedded. How am I your queen?"

"You told me you would be." Xavier tugs your dress down further and bites gently around your breast, tongue flicking across the sensitive nipple, and your walls spasm around him. Your arousal gushes out and drenches his lap further, pulling a groan from deep within his throat. "You told me you would become my only important person. Do you rescind your word now that you are?"

When you have always been so? you hear unspoken in the way he possesses you until he's all you can think of, until his love is all you've known.

"N-no," you gasp out, your thighs working to meet each of his thrusts upwards in this old competitive nature, in this new dance. Your hand fists in his hair, pulling his head back, and his jaw drops open when his blown wide pupils meet yours. "I am not the one who does so."

Xavier's brow furrows, gaze darkening as he glances over your face; the determination set in your jaw, and the longing that still lingers on you like the nostalgia of a well-loved perfume, learned for so long that it lasts even now when you are finally together.

His expression softens. For a moment, you see him not as hardened, no longer a disillusioned man cursed to live for so long alone, chained with rule that he'd never once wanted.

But somebody gentler, who once grew flowers until they bloomed. A soft soul who spoke of the power of stories, how the simple act of remembrance meant a lost loved one would always be with you.

"Kiss me," he breathes, not the command of a king, but the devotion of a knight, one that had sworn to stay by your side when this throne had once been yours.

Your lips meet his, with as much disbelief and dream-like desperation as in that field of flowers. A kiss from him still doesn't feel real, even as he gives them to you again and again, whimpering softly as his tongue presses past your lips to taste you.

You hear the wet squelching of your joining, your eyelashes fluttering when his hand slips further under your dress, thumb collecting the slick of your coupling to rub against the apex of your pleasure, your thighs twitching with your breathless cry.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes near silently, moaning into your mouth with the clench of your walls around him at the sound of his pleasure, the tangible proof of your effect on him, even with the cool air of aloofness he'd put on since your reunion. "I can't—"

"I know," you whisper, clinging to him as you roll your hips against his thumb and the grinding of his cock against that spot that makes stars spark behind your eyelids. "Xavier!"

"Please," he begs, a crack in his low tone, a falter in his carefully constructed walls as the wet warmth of you consumes him. "I need you. I can't—I can't be without you, my love. Stay with me, stay—"

You kiss down his neck, biting down onto the soft, delicate skin between his neck and shoulder as you shatter around him, pulses of your release filling your mind with the pleasure of a long sought after climax, a well fought for destination finally reached together.

You cling to Xavier, sucking and mouthing at his skin as it rolls through you, moaning when you feel him follow you over that precipice to fill you with his release at last, to claim you completely.

Your heavy breaths intermingle when you kiss him once more, your hand curled into the back of his long hair, swallowing each breathy moan that you pull out of him in this intimate state. The vulnerability of it has your limbs trembling, your drenched thighs shaking with each lingering wave of pleasure that's pulled out of you.

"Stay with me," Xavier says again, still on that razor thin edge of asking and commanding, and you laugh softly against his lips.

"I should be the one to make such a demand," you counter, breathless and still aching, satiated slightly when you feel another warm spurt of his release coating your walls. "You're the one who leaves."

His lips crash against yours again, as if he can steal the words from you, make them unspoken. Even if you both know it is the truth.

"Then ask it of me," he says, all darkness and light in one, tender and obsessive in how he clings to you and gazes up at you with the eyes of an endless starry night. "Demand it of me. Take my throne, my crown, my life."

Xavier kisses you again, and you melt into him when he whispers against your lips, "It is all for you."

"Stay," you command, rolling your hips forward slowly, a keening noise escaping you when you feel the pleasure stoked again, the urgency coming to life once more between you. "Stay with me, my king."

His hand curls around the base of your neck, keeping you to him like in the flowers when he first kissed you, devouring your every kiss as he promises gently, like all the times before, "Whatever you ask of me, my queen, is yours."

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[calebsdog]

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CONGRATSSS on 1k Ivyyy!!! May you get a trillion more followers bcs you deserve it😌🙏

I would love to go on a date with my favorite guy in the world Caleb!

Thank you for choosing ivy's dating service!

For your special date, we recommend a night at the arcade. Colonel Xia has always had a soft spot for playing games with his favorite girl in the world 😉 So we're sure this date would be lots of fun!

Compete against each other while shooting hoops, try your luck at the claw machine, speed down virtual streets in the racing simulators, and team up together for the dance machines.

No matter what you choose, the colonel will be sure to win lots of tickets with you so he can pick the prize of your choosing at the end of the night.

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Side effects of this date may include: a kiss shared while caleb shows off, lots of claw machine winnings, competition (with a side of his playful teasing), and accidentally falling in love all over again.

[calebsdog]

Must I really make a second masterlist?