#caleb pov

[mapofsouthdakota]

The Maze

Synopsis: In a future where war and technology have blurred the line between man and machine, Caleb was resurrected—not as who he was, but as who he was programmed to be. With only 3% of his original self left intact, the latest reboot of his chip has reshaped his logic, his purpose, and his understanding of his emotions towards you.

Bound by his own design, he has built you the Maze—a flawless, shifting sanctuary meant to protect the one person he refuses to lose. But protection and captivity are two sides of the same coin, and inside the Maze, freedom is just another unsolvable puzzle.

Will you escape, or will Stockholm Syndrome take hold before that day?

Details: 2600ish words. Some kind of spin off AU, but corresponds with in-game canons. Obsessive Caleb. Yandere Caleb. Controlling Caleb. Colonel Caleb. Crazy hot Caleb. 18+ due to psychological thriller/drama/angst galore (and a prelude for p0rn with plot, I’m just calling it now tbh lol). You are warned.

Tags: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290

Chapters: chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight (final chapter)

Disobedience | Chapter one

The Maze, you

The sheets beneath your fingertips are soft, smooth against your skin—yet the coolness of the night still lingers, a stark contrast to the heat of your own body.

For a moment, you just lie there, still. Listening.

The room hums with a faint, steady silence—too perfect, too controlled. There’s no creak of floorboards, no shifting of walls, only the barely-there whisper of circulated air filtering through vents.

A breath. A heartbeat.

Then—

“Morning, sunshine.”

The sound curls through the space, warm, teasing, familiar.

You don’t flinch.

Your hands, hidden beneath your pillow, run over the rough scratches in the headboard.

Ten days.

Ten days in Caleb’s Maze.

Ten days of carefully mapping the shifting corridors, learning the rhythm of the walls.

Ten days of waiting for a single mistake.

You let your thumb press against the newest line, the wood rough beneath your nail. The only thing here that feels imperfect.

Ten lines. Today makes ten.

Your fingers move carefully, hidden beneath your pillow, tracing over the rough scratches in the headboard. The grooves are uneven, worn from repetition.

A habit now. A ritual.

Another inhale. Another second where you are just waking up.

Then, deliberately slow, you stretch—arms reaching high, toes curling, your spine arching briefly before you relax again, exhaling softly. You force yourself to move naturally. To pretend.

“Did you sleep well, Pips?”

His voice is smooth, effortless, the same playful lilt it’s always had. The intercom crackles faintly at the edges, a reminder that he isn’t here.

You push the sheets off, swallowing down the tightness in your throat.

“I’ve had worse,” you murmur.

A low chuckle hums through the room. Soft, unbothered.

“That’s not an answer.”

You don’t give him one.

Instead, you slide out of bed, bare feet meeting cool marble flooring, and head toward the kitchen. It’s pristine, the kind of luxury that feels staged, artificial. Polished marble, deep walnut cabinets, light spilling through windows that show a perfect sky that isn’t real.

You reach for a glass from the overhead rack—thin, cool, smooth against your fingers—before pouring yourself orange juice.

It’s cold when you drink, tangy with just the right bite of citrus.

“The apple juice is fresher.”

You pause mid-drink.

His voice is still warm, too conversational for someone keeping you captive.

“But,” Caleb adds smoothly, “you’re free to choose whatever you please.”

Your jaw tightens. You set the glass down too hard.

“Oh, how generous.”

Silence stretches for a moment, and you swear you hear the faintest flicker of static in the speakers. Like he was about to say something else.

Then—nothing.

You don’t wait for him to continue.

You turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen, heading toward the bathroom.

——————————————————————————

The mirror doesn’t lie.

You brush your teeth, staring at your reflection. Messy hair, sharper eyes. With a slow inhale, you smooth down the wrinkled fabric of your pajamas, then splash cool water onto your face, letting the droplets slide down your jaw. You straighten, gripping the sink for a moment before exhaling.

You look fine. Healthy.

And yet, something invisible coils inside you as you step out of the bathroom. The plush carpet yields softly beneath your bare feet, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile reality of the Maze beyond this space.

The walk-in wardrobe is spacious, curated to perfection, a collection of clothes you never asked for but were chosen with meticulous care. Your fingers trail along the fabrics, skimming over silken dresses, impossibly soft loungewear, intricate embroidery.

Not clothes meant for movement.

Not clothes meant for running.

But today, you dress for yourself.

Your hands move with quiet certainty. A fitted, dark long-sleeve shirt, breathable and weightless against your skin. Black cargo pants with deep pockets, light enough for speed, flexible enough to run.

You don’t rush as you pull the shirt over your head, as you fasten the buttons on your pants.

You don’t care if he’s watching.

Let him.

You glance at your wrist, at the smooth, metallic weight of the watch he gave you—shaped like an apple, polished to perfection. A taunt. A joke only he found amusing. You’d scoffed when he fastened it around your wrist on the first day, smirking like he was doing you a favor. As if time mattered in a place like this. As if knowing the hour would change the fact that every second still belonged to him.

And yet, it had given you something.

You’d started noticing the patterns. The way his voice filtered through the speakers more often at certain times, his presence reduced to an unseen observer rather than the man himself. A shift in routine, a window of opportunity. If he wasn’t here in person, then maybe—just maybe—it was the best time to run.

Your best chance.

You step into the halls.

——————————————————————————

The Fleet, Administrative wing, Caleb

The Maze breathes.

Not in the way a person does—not with lungs or with a heartbeat—but with the constant, seamless shifts of its corridors, the silent recalibration of its pathways, the ever-adapting nature of its design.

It moves because it is meant to.

Because he made it so.

His design.

From his office aboard The Fleet headquarters, Caleb watches.

Multiple screens flicker in front of him, displaying live feeds from the Maze’s surveillance systems. Some show stark, metallic corridors bathed in cold fluorescent light, their silence almost oppressive. Others reveal lush, curated spaces—gardens where bioluminescent flowers bloom in a soft, otherworldly glow, their petals unfurling like whispers against the artificial breeze.

Waterfalls cascade down smooth stone walls, their shimmering descent captured in crisp, high-definition clarity. Libraries sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling glass, dark wood shelves lined with both rare books and glowing data slates, and plush leather seating bathed in soft, golden light—a seamless blend of luxury and knowledge.

Yet, despite the breathtaking variety before him, his attention is drawn to one screen in particular. Something about it—perhaps the flicker of movement, the subtle shift in shadow—demands his focus.

You.

You stand before the open wardrobe, fingers skimming over the array of fabrics, hesitating.

Something twists in his chest.

It happens fast, instinctive—like a flicker of old wiring trying to reroute itself. Something he shouldn’t feel.

But he does.

His violet eyes trace every detail as you shift through the clothing options. There’s an abundance of choices—elegant silks, soft cottons, layers meant for comfort rather than necessity.

And yet, when your fingers pause, it’s on something practical.

Dark, fitted. Movable.

A slow, amused sound escapes him—“tsk, tsk, tsk.”

He already knows.

Even before you strip off your nightwear and begin sliding into a long-sleeve shirt, breathable and light, he knows.

You’re planning to run.

Again.

His gaze lingers for a second too long as you fasten the buttons on your cargo pants, checking their fit, testing their flexibility. It’s almost methodical, the way you move—not just dressing, but preparing. A muscle feathers in his cheek, and without thinking, his teeth catch his lower lip, a small, unconscious bite—barely there, barely a reaction, but enough. A fleeting lapse in control before he smooths it away, blinking once, recalibrating.

Caleb exhales through his nose, fingers loosely tapping against the polished surface of his desk. The gesture is unconscious, almost idle, but there’s an undercurrent of something he can’t quite name.

Not frustration. Not even disappointment.

Something closer to sadness.

For a moment—just a moment—he allows himself the thought:

You don’t trust him.

Even after ten days in the Maze, after the security, the warmth, the meals he ensures are exactly as you like them—you still choose to run.

That small, dying fraction of himself—the part that still feels, still remembers, still wants—aches.

Then, just as quickly, he shuts it down.

His violet gaze hardens, refocusing his thoughts, and with a measured glance toward the digital clock in the corner of his screen, he makes a decision.

“Early lunch then.” The words are low, absentminded, spoken only to himself.

He stands, rolling his sleeves down, adjusting the crisp lines of his uniform. His movements are fluid, practiced—not rushed, not tense.

This isn’t unexpected.

You always were predictable in your defiance. And while he should be sitting through another briefing on Fleet logistics, securing operations for Skyhaven’s next expansion project, this takes priority.

You take priority.

Without another glance at the monitors, Caleb steps away from his desk, his boots echoing lightly against the pristine floors of his office.

His command to The Fleet’s automated systems is brief, quiet, and final.

“Cancel my schedule for the next hour.”

——————————————————————————

The Maze, you

The air is fresh, sterile. The Maze is designed to feel real, but it isn’t.

Some corridors have grass growing in patches, soft beneath your steps. Others are lined with polished stone, textured enough to feel almost natural. Somewhere, hidden beyond the walls, you hear the soft, rhythmic hum of unseen machines. The constant, inaudible shifts of the Maze adjusting itself.

Every sound. Every change.

Caleb built this place beautifully.

But a golden cage is still a cage.

You let your fingers graze the walls, memorizing the faintest seams. The air is still, too quiet. You keep walking, turning a corner—

Then—

A door stays open a second too long.

Your breath catches.

You move. Fast, silent, sharp.

Each step is calculated, your feet landing light against the ground as you slip through the threshold before it can close.

The first hallway is clear.

Your pulse spikes, adrenaline flooding your veins.

A second hallway—open.

You keep going.

Your heart pounds.

A third hallway. Open. Your pulse spikes, adrenaline burning hot in your veins.

You don’t stop. You don’t think. You move.

And then—

A shadow. A shift in the air.

Arms wrap around your waist.

A solid, crushing force, an unyielding grip stronger than your own body. Your breath leaves you in a sharp exhale, and you thrash immediately. Fingers claw at his forearm, at the muscle in his wrist, nails digging into flesh—but he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know better than this, Pips.” Caleb’s voice is too steady. Too calm.

The fight in you explodes.

You shove back, twisting, slamming your elbow into his ribs. It’s a clean hit, right where you aimed—

And he doesn’t even move.

“Really?” Caleb exhales, the sound a mix of amusement and something dangerously close to indulgence.

You fight. He doesn’t flinch.

In a single motion, he lifts you. Effortless. Controlled. Like this was always how it would end.

Your breath stutters as the world tilts.

His hold is secure, strong, completely unshaken. His body is warm against your back, his presence a wall you can’t break through.

“I’m disappointed,” Caleb murmurs. “I thought we were past this phase.”

You twist again, wild, desperate—he tightens his hold.

It isn’t painful. It’s just inescapable.

“Still fighting me, huh?” A sigh, low, almost indulgent.

Then—he turns.

And carries you back. Deeper into the maze.

——————————————————————————

The door hisses shut behind you, locking with an unmistakable click.

The room is warm. Comfortable. Familiar. Which only makes you hate it more. Everything here is chosen for you. The plush seating, the softest blankets, the bookshelves filled with titles you’ve mentioned in passing. There’s even a record player in the corner, already humming out a low, nostalgic tune.

Caleb has built you a paradise.

And then he’s tied you to the chair.

The contrast is almost comical.

A high-backed, cushioned armchair, angled just slightly toward the crackling fireplace. The restraints—thin, smooth straps, nothing rough or cruel—keep your wrists and ankles in place.

And once again it’s not painful. Just inescapable…

“You know,” Caleb says conversationally, adjusting the straps like he’s tucking you in for the night, “this wouldn’t be necessary if you behaved.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you glare at the bookshelf across from you, focusing on the hardcover spines of your favorite novels rather than the man currently fastening you into your luxury prison.

“Pips, don’t be like that.”

The nickname makes you grit your teeth.

Caleb straightens, stepping back, hands loosely resting on his hips as he surveys his work. His violet eyes flick over the restraints, your tensed arms, your jaw clenched in irritation.

Then—a smirk.

“Comfy?”

Your glare could burn through steel.

“Oh, come on,” he sighs, gesturing vaguely around the room. “I could’ve put you somewhere far less accommodating.”

Your eyes flicker around the room, unwillingly cataloging every sickeningly perfect detail.

The softest blankets in the universe draped over the nearby couch. A table of fresh fruit, chocolates, and a steaming cup of tea—your favorite blend. A window overlooking a perfect sunset, artificial but beautiful.

And worst of all—the armchair you’re currently restrained to? It reclines.

Your fingers twitch.

“See?” Caleb tilts his head, reading your expression effortlessly. “I’m not unreasonable.”

You huff through your nose, looking away.

Caleb leans down, hands bracing the armrests, his breath a whisper of warmth against your skin. Violet eyes—too sharp, too knowing—trace your features, his stare slow, deliberate, as if committing every defiant line to memory.

“I don’t like doing this to you, Pip-squeak.” His voice is softer now. Too close. Too careful.

His gloved fingers glide over your cheek, a slow, feather-light drag of cool leather against your too-warm skin. It shouldn’t leave an impression, but it does—a whisper of control, deliberate, inescapable.

Then, he moves—not back, but forward.

He leans in, slow, deliberate, until his breath ghosts against your lips, warm and steady, the space between you shrinking into nothing.

And then, just there, against your mouth—

“But you have to stop trying to leave me.”

The words are soft, almost gentle—but there’s nothing soft about the way they settle into your bones. A command, a fact, absolute.

He’s already gone.

Straightened. Moved away, as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from your lungs, as if he hadn’t just set your pulse stumbling. Like he’s in control.

Because, of course—he is.

Caleb he tilts his head slightly, gaze flickering down as he taps a single finger against the watch on your wrist—light, teasing, as if this is just another game.

“Should we say two hours of relaxation?” His voice is smooth, almost coy. Then, with a smirk, he leans in just slightly, like he’s sharing some playful little secret. “Then we can go play basketball later.”

And just like that, he turns on his heel, stepping away, unbothered, already moving on—as if he hadn’t just tied you down, as if he hadn’t just reminded you exactly where you belong.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, Caleb

Caleb stands just outside the room, his back to the door, his gloved fingers twitching at his sides. His breath escapes too sharp, too uneven, something off-rhythm about it.

He should be proud. He handled the situation with perfect efficiency.

You fought. He won.

And yet—his pulse is off. The air in the corridor feels heavier than it should.

He presses his fingers to his temple. Once. Twice.

Like he’s trying to force something back into place.

Steps sharp, too controlled.

He moves down the corridor, into the main halls of the Maze, the exit looming ahead.

Then, as if remembering something only he can hear, Caleb pulls a small device from his belt—sleek, no larger than his palm, its surface smooth and seamless.

His grip tightens around it.

It’s unnecessary.

You’ve made your choices. He’s made his.

And yet—his thumb presses down.

A soft, nearly imperceptible beep registers in his earpiece. Inside the locked room, the restraints will loosen. You won’t be free to leave. But you’ll be free to move.

His shoulders drop by a fraction of an inch, just enough that someone trained in reading body language might notice.

But no one is watching.

Caleb’s fingers press down on a door panel.

The door unlocks.

And Caleb steps through.

Behind him, the Maze remains unchanged, unmoving, silent. But no matter how far he walks, no matter how many doors close between you—

He will return to you.

He always does.

Because you are still inside.

And Caleb has never been able to stay away from you for long.

Not before.

Not now.

Not ever.

——————————————————————————

Chapter two

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: So I had this idea and I love crazy delulu Caleb. I kinda like it? It’s something? It has potential, I think? I’m playing around with writing styles and this is the product. I feel like anything could happen in this maze lol. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS Men React To An Unexpected Pregnancy

AN: Pregnant reader. Not the boys. That genre is currently unexplored on this blog but not for long 🤭👺

Pairing: LaDS boys x Fem reader

Ingredients: 75% fluff, 25% angst.

My Fav: Rafayel's (new segment because I want to discuss which ones I liked best when writing)

Xavier:

You pass out during a mission. That’s how you find out. In the Hunter Association’s medical ward, you stare at the positive report in stunned silence.

The nausea hadn’t just been Xavier’s cooking.

How even…? You sit there, frozen, until he walks in, finding you pale and unmoving.

A child.

He leans against the wall, the report in his hand. God.

He had vanished the day he found out. Left you bitterly alone. But you didn’t need him, you could raise the child on your own. If Xavier was too weak to accept the truth, so be it.

But he returns. You don’t know where he went, only that when he comes back, he is broken.

"I couldn't change it." He falls to his knees. "The world remains unchanged," he repeats, voice hollow.

The destruction he had accepted, the grief he had worn like armor, now, it becomes unbearable. Because for the first time, he isn’t sure if he can ever manage to save it for his child.

Rafayel:

He dreams of it. Strange dreams.

He’s not one to obsess over omens, but even he, in his eternal wisdom, cannot decipher what a colony of seals playing with marbles is supposed to mean.

Then, one afternoon, he dreams of a baby seal. It coos at him, glumphing closer, making infant-like noises.

And in the dream, he bends down to pet it. Only for you to pick it up instead.

He jolts awake. Hands immediately over his stomach. Breath unsteady. No...not him...it was you. You picked the seal, that meant-

Then he stumbles out of bed, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to find you.

Drives like a madman. He counts the days. Two months. He counts the signs.

His heart refuses to slow down.

Barging into the Hunter’s Association, he’s chased by guards, by an exasperated receptionist, but none of it matters.

When he finds you, he grips your shoulders, searching your face. How could he have missed it?

By the tides, he was a fool.

And then—he feels it. A whisper, warm and murmuring, like the gentle pull of the waves.

A half-formed yawn, ringing softly in his mind.

The presence of his child.

Now all he has to do is tell you.

Zayne:

You watch Zayne eat dinner, half-listening as he talks about his day. He absentmindedly bites into another baby carrot.

Not just baby carrots, baby corn, baby potatoes, those tiny tomatoes.

"How’s dinner, Zayne?" you ask, feigning nonchalance.

He nods, smiling. "It’s good. Very healthy."

"Notice anything?"

He hums in thought. "You’re trying Italian cuisine these days." He places his hand over yours, gentle. "But you don’t have to cook if you’re tired after work."

He’s too kind to mention the small incident with the oven last week. To be fair, the bun in the oven analogy is a classic.

A week. A whole week of hints, and still, he hasn’t caught on.

Sighing, you give up on subtlety. "Darling, did you visit the pediatrics ward today?" you ask, pushing food around your plate.

"I didn’t have time. Had to miss the volunteering event for surgery."

You grin. Taking his hand, you guide it over your stomach. "Well, luckily for you, we’ll have one right here soon."

His mouth hangs open. Eyes darting between you and your stomach before his fingers brush over the nonexistent bump.

"Really? Are we—"

"Yes, you dummy!" You pull him into a hug. "I’ve been trying to tell you for days."

For a man obsessed with your health, he somehow had been ignorant of the biggest of surprises. Unplanned or not, you were going to give him the longest late night shift of his life.

Sylus:

The timing could have been better, he muses, wiping blood off his cheek.

But he had been too lax.

Not that it mattered. Everything was under control.

"Clean up," he orders, snapping his fingers. Shadows slither forward, dragging the remains of his enemies into the abyss.

The news of a child had changed things. He had let fate play its part for too long. Now, it was his turn.

Whatever slow-moving scheme he had let linger, ended now.

There was no way in hell he was letting you go on any mission while carrying his child.

Aether Core be damned. EVER be damned to NEVER. He would wipe them out if he had to.

For now, though, he had other priorities.

Leaving you safe at home, he finishes this last errand. Your only battle at the moment is morning sickness which, much to his surprise, isn’t just limited to mornings.

He wipes his hands clean, heading for his bike.

One last stop. You wanted pickles.

He smiles, revving the engine. Soon, only cars.

And then, he’s gone, speeding into the night, back to you. Back to his family. To cuddle the little dragon who gives you unrivaled heartburn and kicks like a menace at 18 weeks.

Caleb:

He knew.

Some would say he saw it coming, but just because he kept track of your cycle didn’t mean he could predict your ovulation exactly.

He was just…good at math.

Mental math.

And taking you to a convenience store for cough drops, right next to the pregnancy tests, had been pure coincidence.

Not that he totally snuck a glance at you eyeing them. And if he excused himself to grab a snack right then? Also not planned.

You hand him the test. "I think I’m pregnant."

He goes through all the expressions shock, surprise, joy, tears. So dramatic that it fools no one.

Seriously, he’s atrocious at being subtle about it.

Instantly proposes. Shotgun wedding because the baby will need a family.

Grins like a madman when it turns out to be twins.

Secretly, he’s very, very proud.

Heavens, he thinks smugly, I really am amazing at math.

[lovesick-sylus]

If this image doesnt describe Zayne and Caleb perfectly , i dont know what will 🤭

[drowsyapple]

Where the Sun Meets the Sky

Pairing: Caleb x Non!mc reader

Tags: University AU, tall/POC!reader, fratboy!Caleb, friends to lovers

Synopsis: After a crushing loss, your ride-or-die Caleb shows up with snacks, stats help, and way too much info about your life. Now he's making you go to his frat formal. Is he just being your overprotective childhood friend... or is there something he's not telling you?

(Yes. The answer is yes.)

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: This chapter is pretty tame, but there are hints of protective/possessive behavior, mild stalking vibes, and academic stress

Author's Note: I'm not a writer, I just like to write :) the reader is a taller tomboy girly who loves basketball and hates stats class... I plan on making this a multi-chapter fic (might already have the next chapter mostly done) so let me know if y'all want more :D enjoy!

Tag List: @rcvcgers @seasal-t

Comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list :)

The gymnasium was a cacophony of sound—squeaking sneakers, the rhythmic bounce of basketballs, and the occasional shout from Coach Jenna. The chill of the fall air seeped through the cracks in the old building, making you shiver as you wiped sweat from your brow. Your dark brown curls, most of it slicked back into your signature ponytail, clung to your forehead in damp tendrils, a few rebellious strands escaping to frame your freckled face. Your hazel eyes, sharp with focus, scanned the court as you sprinted down the hardwood, your 5’10” frame moving with the kind of fluid precision that came from years of training.

The Linkon University basketball jersey, number 25, hung loosely over your athletic build, the fabric darkened with sweat. Your skin, kissed with melanin, glistened under the harsh gym lights, and the faint dusting of freckles across your nose and cheeks gave you a youthful, determined look. The sound of your sneakers squeaking against the floor echoed as you pivoted, your ponytail swinging behind you, as you gave it your all on the court.

“Hustle, ladies! This isn’t a tea party!” Coach Jenna barked, her voice cutting through the noise. She stood on the sidelines, her clipboard clutched tightly in one hand, her sharp eyes missing nothing. 

Your teammate, Simone, shot you a grin as you ran side by side, her dark braids swinging with each stride. The squeak of sneakers against the polished hardwood floor echoed through the gym, blending with the sharp whistle of Coach Jenna. “Coach is on one today,” Simone panted. 

“When is she not?” you shot back, your voice strained but laced with humor. You dodged around a cone, your legs burning as you pushed through the drill. The chill of the air made your breath visible in short, quick puffs. 

The scrimmage against Skyhaven University had ended with a narrow loss, the opposing team’s star center sinking a buzzer-beater three-pointer that left your team groaning in frustration. As punishment for the loss, your coach had you doing line drills for each point difference and shot missed. Your muscles screamed with every sprint, every pivot, every jump, but you pushed through, determined to not fall behind your team. 

After what felt like an eternity, you slumped onto the bench, your chest heaving as you chugged from your water bottle. The cool liquid was a relief, but it did little to ease the ache settling into your muscles, a familiar reminder of the grind. Simone settled down next to you, her face flushed and her two french braids damp with sweat. She quickly gathered her things, her movements efficient despite her fatigue. You wondered how she still had the energy to move so fast.

“I’m heading back to the bus first,” she said, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder before glancing over. “Do you want me to save you a seat?” 

Simone was your best friend on the basketball team, and as fellow freshmen, you’d formed a bond that went beyond the court. She was the first person to welcome you to the team, and her relentless optimism and dry sense of humor had gotten you through more than one grueling practice. You appreciated the camaraderie between you two and the unspoken understanding that you were both doing all you could to climb the team’s ladder. 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you said between breaths and sips of water. “See you in a bit.” 

Simone nodded. “Don’t take too long. You know how Coach gets if we’re late.” 

You watched as she walked away, her braids swaying with each step. The gym was quieter now, the rest of the team already heading to the bus or packing up their gear. You took a moment to catch your breath, your eyes scanning the empty court. The polished floor reflected the overhead lights, and the faint scent of sweat and sports drinks lingered in the air. 

As you sat there, the weight of the loss settled over you. It wasn’t just the score, it was the missed opportunities, the shots you could’ve made, the passes you could’ve intercepted. You clenched your fists, the frustration bubbling up, but you pushed it down. There’d be time to analyze the game later, to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. For now, you just needed to get through the ride back to campus and the inevitable scolding from Coach. 

As the team continued to file out of the gym in groups of two or three, you lingered behind, taking time to stuff your gear into your duffel bag. Your muscles screamed with every motion you made accompanied by the sound of your growling stomach. The sound of the gym doors on the opposite end of the building creaking open drew your attention, and you glanced up to see Caleb leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a slight smirk playing on his lips. 

Caleb was impossible to miss. At 6’2”, he towered over most people, his broad shoulders and athletic build a testament to his dual life as a star basketball player and an aspiring pilot, currently majoring in aerospace engineering. His dark brown hair was tousled, falling slightly into his striking purple eyes, which gleamed with amusement under the fluorescent lights. He was dressed casually in a black hoodie and jeans, his orange and black flying jacket slung over one arm. The jacket was worn but well-loved, a fond memory from his high school days, and it suited him perfectly. 

“Tough loss, pips,” he said, his voice warm but teasing. 

You rolled your eyes, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you stood up, ignoring your protesting knees. “Don’t remind me. What are you doing here, anyway? I remember telling you I was riding back with the team.” 

Caleb pushed off the doorframe and stepped inside, his boots clicking against the floor as he walked to meet you halfway. “I already talked to Coach. Told her I’d give you a ride.” He said shooting a quick wave to your Coach, and she, distracted by the notes on her clipboard, returned the gesture. Since when did they get so close?

You groaned at that, dragging a hand down your sweaty face. “Caleb, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m perfectly capable of taking the bus.” 

“And miss the chance to spend quality time with your favorite person? Not a chance,” he said, his smirk widening. He reached out and ruffled your damp hair, earning a swat from you. 

You muttered under your breath while slipping on your favorite hoodie, and followed him out to the parking lot where his beat-up pickup truck waited. The truck was a relic from high school. You and Caleb had found it abandoned in the neighborhood junkyard, its red paint faded and speckled with rust, but Caleb said it had character and fixed it up in no time. The man has always had a way with tools, yet you struggled using something as simple as a toaster. You climbed into the passenger seat, tossing your bag into the back, and noticed a small paper bag on the dashboard and a large Diet Coke waiting for you in one of the cupholders. The cup was filled to the brim with the crunchy, nugget ice you loved. 

“After-game snack,” Caleb said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Figured you’d be starvin’.” 

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t hide the smile creeping on your face. “You’re such a dork.” He always knew exactly what you needed, even without asking.

“Your dork,” he corrected while starting the engine, which earned a snort from you. The truck rumbled to life, and you two pulled out of the parking lot. 

As your childhood best friend drove, you leaned back in your seat, sipping your drink and nibbling on the peanut butter protein bar that was in the paper bag. The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with him. You talked about the scrimmage, taking this chance to vent about the missed shots and the opposing team’s star player. 

“You’ll get ‘em next time,” Caleb said, his tone encouraging. “You’re a shoo-in for a starter spot next year. Hell, you might even be captain one day, just like me.” 

You snorted. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mr. Valedictorian.” 

Caleb’s expression softened. “Please let that go,” he chuckled. “High school was ages ago, and I’m already a Junior. Seriously, though. You’re killin’ it out there. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?” 

As you opened your mouth to respond, your phone buzzed, interrupting the moment. You pull it out of your pocket to see a text from your roommate, 

Tara: Have you seen the back of my earring??? I’ve looked everywhere!

You sighed, typing out a quick reply of nope before tossing your phone onto the dashboard. “Roommate again,” you muttered. 

Caleb glanced at you briefly, his brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, just… Tara’s a mess. I swear, I spend more time cleaning up after her than I do studying.” 

Caleb’s jaw tightened a bit, but he didn’t press. Instead, he changed the subject. “You wanna come over for dinner? I made your favorite.” 

You hesitated, the idea tempting. “I really should study. My stats class is kicking my ass, and if I don’t pull my grade up, I’m gonna lose my scholarship.” 

Caleb drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. “How about this? You come over, we eat, and I’ll help you with your stats homework. I TA’d for Professor Lucius last year, so I know his style.” 

You opened your mouth to refuse, but Caleb flashed you his signature puppy-dog look. Wide eyes, slightly pouted lips, the whole nine yards. You groaned, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine… but only because I’m starving.” 

Caleb’s triumphant grin was almost too much to bear. Suddenly, a thought flickered in the back of your mind. 

Did you ever tell Caleb you had Professor Lucius this semester? 

The cold sweat of the cup bit into your palm as you searched your memory. No, you definitely hadn't told him. Between basketball drills and Tara's latest crisis, you'd barely registered the mid-semester professor switch yourself until the first confusing lecture. Yet Caleb had said Lucius' name like it was common knowledge, the same way he always seemed to know your schedule before you did, your coffee order before you spoke it, and when you'd need him before you knew you needed him yourself.

The realization prickled at you—you’d never told Caleb about Professor Lucius. Struggles with statistics, yes, but not who taught it. Not when six other instructors were teaching it this semester. Yet he’d known. Like he always knew.

Still, it wasn’t like Caleb to get details wrong. He was meticulous, almost annoyingly so. Always remembering the smallest things about your schedule, your preferences, and your life.  

You shook your head, brushing the thought aside. 

It’s nothing. Probably just said it in passing and forgot. 

You removed the lid of your cup and took a long sip of your drink, the satisfying crunch of the nugget ice between your teeth pulling you back to the present. The familiar sensation was comforting.

You glanced outside the truck window, the campus of Linkon University beginning to roll by in a blur of autumn colors. The trees lining the pathways were ablaze with gold and crimson, their leaves fluttering to the ground in the crisp fall breeze contrasting the setting sun. Students bundled in scarves and jackets hurried to and from classes, their laughter and chatter faintly carrying through the glass. The clock tower loomed in the distance, its hands inching toward evening, and the faint scent of woodsmoke from a nearby bonfire drifted through the air. 

You leaned your head against the cool window, letting the rhythm of the road and the hum of the truck’s engine lull you into a sense of calm. Caleb’s playlist, a mix of classic rock and indie tracks he’d curated over the years, played softly in the background. He was humming along under his breath, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in time with the beat. 

You tore your eyes away from the passing scenery and glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His profile was sharp against the fading light, his jawline strong and his amethyst eyes focused on the road. There was a quiet intensity about him, a steadiness that had always been there, even when you were kids. He was the kind of person who made you feel safe, even when you didn’t want to admit you needed it. 

But there was something else there too, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A tension in the way he held himself, a flicker of something in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. You’d noticed it more and more lately ever since you started college, though you couldn’t explain why. 

“You okay over there?” Caleb’s voice broke through your thoughts, his tone light but with an undercurrent of concern. 

You blinked, pulling yourself back to the present. “Yeah, just…thinking.” 

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Dangerous habit.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Says the guy who overthinks everything.” 

Caleb laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Guilty as charged.” 

The conversation lulled again, but the silence between you was comfortable, simple. You turned your attention back to the window, watching as the campus gave way to the quieter streets of the neighboring residential neighborhood. The houses here were old but charming, their porches decorated with pumpkins and fairy lights. A group of kids played in a leaf pile on the sidewalk, their laughter ringing out like chiming bells. 

You took another sip of your drink, the ice clinking softly against the sides of the cup. The thought from earlier nagged at you again, but you pushed it aside. 

It’s Caleb. He probably just heard it from someone else. 

You always have been the forgetful type, forgetting even your birthday one year.

Still, as the truck pulled up to his apartment building, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. But for now, you decided to let it go. There were more pressing things to worry about, like surviving stats class and figuring out how to deal with Tara’s latest disaster. 

🍎🍎🍎

Caleb’s studio apartment was small but cozy, a reflection of his no-frills personality. The brick accent wall gave the space a rustic charm, its rough texture softened by the warm glow of a single floor lamp. The room was dominated by a worn leather couch, its cushions dented from years of use from its previous owner, and a slightly cluttered coffee table stacked with textbooks, a half-empty coffee mug, and a pair of aviator sunglasses. A small kitchenette sat in the corner, its countertops surprisingly tidy except for a single pan soaking in the sink. 

Photos of you and Caleb lined the walls, a timeline of your shared history. There was the one from your 12th birthday, where he’d surprised you with a basketball cake and a goofy party hat. Another from last year’s New Year’s Eve, the two of you bundled up in scarves, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the sparklers in your hands leaving trails of light in the dark. New Year’s Eve had always been yours—the two of you pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in a crowd or curled on a couch, watching the clock tick toward midnight with the same quiet certainty as the years turning over. No matter what chaos the year had brought, that moment always belonged to you both.

And then the candid shots, Caleb ruffling your hair after a game in middle school, you laughing as he tried to teach you how to cook (and failed miserably). Then there was a photo of you two during your high school graduation just half a year ago; you were clutching your diploma, and Caleb’s arm hung loosely over your shoulders, smiling bright. Each photo was a snapshot of a moment frozen in time, a reminder of how intertwined your lives had always been. And behind each photo was your adoptive grandmother, Josephine, always eager to capture the moments of her kids with her clunky camera.

You walked in and turned to the used couch. A deep red throw blanket was draped over its back, the vibrant hue a stark contrast to the muted grays and browns of the room. You flop down after dropping your bags to the side of the couch, stretching out horizontally and scrolling through your phone, your feet hanging over the edge. The leather creaked under your weight, and the faint scent of Caleb’s cologne, something woodsy and warm, lingered in the air. 

Caleb disappeared into the kitchen, humming along to the classic rock playlist he’d put on. The opening chords of a familiar song filled the room, Over the Hills and Far Away by Led Zeppelin, and you couldn’t help but smile. It was one of his favorites, a track he’d played on repeat during road trips back in high school. 

“Seriously, Caleb,” you called out, raising your voice over the music, “how do you still listen to this stuff? It’s so old.” 

“It’s timeless,” he shot back, his voice carrying over the sizzle of the stove and the hum of the microwave. “You’ll appreciate it when you’re older.” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “If you say so.” 

You set your phone down on the coffee table and headed to the bathroom, leaving it behind. When you returned, Caleb was setting two plates of braised chicken wings on the table along with two cups of microwavable instant rice. The rich, savory aroma made your stomach growl, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of gratitude. He’d remembered your favorite dish, just like he always did. 

As you ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly, shifting from sports to classes to Caleb’s latest escapades with his frat brothers. He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he launched into the story. “So, last weekend, we decided to build a homemade drone,” he began, his eyes lighting up with the kind of energy that always came with his wilder ideas. “You know, just a little weekend project. What could go wrong, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Famous last words, Caleb. What happened?” You asked as you took another bite of your favorite dish, a slight note of ginger hitting the back of your throat.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, we got it all put together, or at least, we thought we did. But when we fired it up, the thing shot straight into the air, spun in a circle, and then nosedived right into the grill!” He exclaimed waving his hands around. “Next thing we know, the propane tank’s hissin’, and the backyard’s basically a fire hazard.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on your food. “You’re kidding me! Did you at least get it on video?”

“Oh, we got it on video,” he said, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his camera roll. He handed it to you, and you watched as the drone spiraled out of control, followed by a chorus of panicked shouts and the unmistakable sound of something catching fire. You were laughing so hard your sides hurt, and Caleb joined in, his laugh filling the room.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t get kicked out of the house,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes.

“Oh, we almost did,” he admitted, still grinning. “But, you know, we cleaned it up. Mostly. And no one got hurt, so… win?”

“Barely,” you teased, shaking your head. “You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

The lighthearted banter continued, the tension from the scrimmage slowly melting away. It was easy, comfortable, the way it always was with Caleb. He had a way of making everything feel less serious, less overwhelming. For a little while, you forgot about the game, about the pressure, about everything except the sound of his laughter and the warmth of the moment.

But once you cleared your plate and pulled out your stats homework, the mood shifted as reality sank in once again. You groaned, staring at the equations like they were written in another language. The numbers and symbols blurred together, and you felt that familiar knot of frustration tightening in your chest.

Caleb noticed immediately, his grin fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone softer now.

“It’s this stupid stats homework,” you muttered, shoving the paper away from you. “I don’t get it. None of it makes sense. I’ve been staring at it for hours these past couple of days, and it’s like my brain just shuts down. Why do I need to know this? I’m a basketball player, not a mathematician.” 

Caleb chuckled, leaning over to look at your notes. His arm brushed against yours, and you caught a whiff of his cologne again, distracting you slightly. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You’re overthinkin’ it,” he said simply with a small smile.

“Easy for you to say,” you retorted. “You’re, like, a wannabe math genius or something.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head. “I’m no genius. I just don’t freak out about it like you do.” He reached over, pulling the paper toward him and scanning the problems. “Okay, look. This one’s not that bad. You’re just makin’ it harder than it needs to be.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, well, that’s my specialty.”

He smirked, glancing up at you. “True. But lucky for you, you’ve got me.” He grabbed the pen you were holding and started scribbling notes in the margins, explaining each step in a way that actually made sense. You watched him, the frustration slowly easing as his calm, steady voice broke through the mental block you’d been hitting.

“See?” he said after a few minutes, sliding the paper and pen back to you. “Not so bad, right?”

You looked down at the page, the numbers suddenly less intimidating. “Okay, maybe you’re a little bit of a genius,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He leaned back, looking far too pleased with himself. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you said, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Thanks, though. Seriously.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “You know I’ve got your back.”

And you did know. That was the thing about Caleb. No matter how chaotic or ridiculous things got, he always had a way of making you feel like everything would be okay. Even when the numbers didn’t add up and the world felt like it was spinning too fast, he was there, steady and sure, reminding you that you weren’t alone.

He walked you through a few more of the problems, his voice calm and patient as he explained each step. But your eyes drifted to your phone, which buzzed incessantly with texts from Tara. The screen continuously lit up from where it was placed on the edge table, and you couldn’t resist glancing at it. Huh, did you set it all the way over there before you headed to the bathroom?

“What’s so important?” Caleb asked, interrupting your thought, his tone light but with an edge of curiosity. 

“Nothing,” you said, shoving your phone into your pocket. “Just Tara being Tara.” 

Caleb raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Instead, he reached over and plucked the phone from your pocket and proceeded to stand as tall as he could, holding it above his head. 

“Hey!” you protested, standing up and reaching for it. But Caleb was a few inches taller, and you couldn’t quite reach. 

“You said you’d focus,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Caleb, give it back!” you demanded, jumping in vain. 

He laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in his expression. “You know, it’s hard to compete with your phone for your attention.” 

You stopped jumping, your frustration melting into a tinge of guilt. The look in his eyes—part amusement, part something deeper—caught you off guard. “I’m sorry,” you groaned with a slight eye roll. “How could I ever make it up to you.” 

Caleb’s smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh?” 

You hesitated, then sighed, having an idea of where this conversation was headed. “What do you want?” 

Caleb’s eyes lit up, and you knew you’d walked right into his trap. “Come to the frat formal with me. Tomorrow night.” 

You huffed, but there was no way out. This was the grave you dug and now it was time to lie in it. He had been bugging you about his frat’s autumn formal for weeks. “Fine. But you owe me.” 

Caleb’s triumphant grin was worth it, even as you mentally prepared yourself for the chaos of a frat party, grimacing at the thought of dressing in clothes other than your trusty knee-length basketball shorts, hoodies, and sneakers. 

🍎🍎🍎

The ride back to your dorm was short, the silence between you and Caleb comfortable. The truck’s engine hummed softly, and the faint glow of streetlights flickered across Caleb’s face as he drove. His hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping in time once again with the song playing on the radio. You glanced at him, noting the way his jaw tightened slightly whenever your on-campus dorm came into view. He hated this place, your co-ed dorm, and he didn’t bother hiding it. 

When you arrived, Caleb parked the truck and walked you to the door, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The cool night air nipped at your cheeks, and you pulled the hood of your hoodie tighter around your head. The dorm building loomed ahead, its windows glowing with warm light, and the faint sound of laughter and music spilled out from the common room. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, turning to face him. 

Caleb’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled, that familiar, easy grin that always made your stomach flutter, which you promptly ignored. “Anytime, pipsqueak,” he replied as he placed his hand on your covered head, his voice soft. 

You turned to the entrance while reaching for your key card, swiping it swiftly to unlock the door with a soft click. The sound was barely audible over the hum of the dorm’s hallway, but it felt loud in the quiet space between you and Caleb. You opened the door but held it open with your foot. Pausing, you turned to him with an eyebrow raised. “Y’know, can you quit it with that silly nickname already?” you protested, though there was no real bite to your words. “I’m hardly small, and I could easily destroy you in a 1v1 any day.”

Caleb’s grin widened, that familiar, infuriating smirk that made your stomach do a little flip, which you ignored once again. For a split second, you thought he might say something…something real, something that would explain the way he’d been looking at you all night, like you were the only person in the world. But instead, he just chuckled, reaching out to ruffle your hair under your hoodie like you were still the scrawny kid he’d met all those years ago. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice light but with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. 

You rolled your eyes, brushing his hand away, but the warmth of his touch lingered. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning to head inside. 

As the door began to close behind you, you caught a glimpse of him still standing there, his hands back in his pockets and his smile fading. His purple eyes lingered on you, intense and unreadable, and for a moment, it felt like the air between you was charged with something unspoken. But before you could say anything, before you could even process what you were feeling, the windowless door clicked shut, leaving you alone in the dimly lit hallway, the sound of the common room drowning out as it became overpowered by your thoughts. 

You leaned against the door for a moment, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. Caleb was always like this. Teasing, protective, and just a little bit maddening. But tonight, it felt different. Like there was something he wasn’t saying, something he was holding back. 

Shaking your head, you pushed off the door and headed down the hall towards your shared dorm, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the space. Whatever it was, you’d figure it out later. For now, you had a roommate to deal with and a mountain of homework waiting for you. 

🍎🍎🍎

The dorm was a disaster when you walked in. Clothes were strewn across the living room, empty takeout containers littered the coffee table, and a half-finished puzzle sat abandoned on the floor. Tara was kneeling in the middle of the chaos, her dark hair a wild mess as she dug through a pile of laundry. 

“What’s going on?” you asked, dropping your bag by the door. 

Tara looked up, her eyes wide with desperation. “What took you so long?! I still can’t find the back of my earring! Please help!” 

You sighed but knelt down to help, shoving aside a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that definitely wasn’t either of yours. Tara had always been like this, chaotic, scatterbrained, but endearing. You’d met her during orientation, when she’d accidentally spilled her iced coffee all over your shoes and then insisted on buying you a new pair. You’d been inseparable ever since, even if her messiness drove you up the wall. 

As you searched, Tara began peppering you with questions about your evening. “So, I figure you were with Caleb, huh?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“Don’t start,” you warned, but Tara just laughed and returned to digging through the pile of clothes in front of her. You continued, “I have to go to that stupid frat formal with him now just as I started to think I was in the clear. As if I don’t have anything better to do than put on a dress and be surrounded by drunks. Coach doesn’t even let us drink! What the hell am I supposed to do all night sober?” 

“Oh come on. His frat holds, like, the most exclusive party of the year. You’re so lucky!” 

You groaned, shoving a pile of socks aside. “You can take my place if you want.” 

Tara shook her head, her loose curls bouncing. “Nope. I’ve got plans with that guy from my bio class.” You said a small ah under your breath nodding. You never understood Tara’s extensive roster and never bothered asking for specifics. She was with a new guy what seemed like every other week.

You finally spotted the earring back under the coffee table and handed it to Tara, who squealed in delight. 

“You’re the best!” she said, pulling you into a hug before retreating to her room. 

You did the same, tossing your phone onto the bed, and almost like magic, it lit up with a notification from Caleb: 

Sleep well, pips. Don’t let Tara or your floor mates keep you up :) 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. Caleb had always been like this, a protective older brother figure in your life. He hated your co-ed dorm, and he made no secret of it. 

“It’s not safe,” he’d said when you first moved in, his arms crossed and his jaw set. “You should’ve taken the single dorm I found for you.” 

But you’d refused, partly because you didn’t want to feel like you owed him anything and partly because you liked the idea of chaos that came with living on the same floor with a bunch of noisy dudes. It reminded you that you were finally on your own, making your own decisions, even if those decisions drove Caleb a little crazy. 

You threw off your shoes and plopped into bed, still wearing your outside clothes. As you laid there, staring at the ceiling and debating a shower, your thoughts drifted back to him. His teasing smile, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did. He was infuriating, endearing, and entirely too much. But he was your childhood best friend, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Still, there was a part of you that wondered, what would happen if you let him in completely? If you stopped pretending you didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered on you, or the way his voice softened when he said your name? 

You shook your head, pushing the thought aside. For now, this was enough. 

[aleksatia]

MC:

You stand in front of the empty display, your stomach dropping. The shoes—your shoes—are gone. The ones you had dreamed about, saved for, imagined yourself wearing. Sold Out.

You had measured every step toward them—skipping coffee, counting every coin, lingering outside the store just to admire them. Now, some stranger, someone who didn’t need them the way you did, had taken them without a second thought.

The weight of it crashes over you. It wasn’t just about the shoes. It was about the wait, the longing, the tiny victory that was supposed to be yours. And now, even that is gone.

🦅 🖤 Sylus

He watches you for a moment, amusement flickering in his crimson eyes.

"You’re actually crying over this?" His voice is rich with mockery, but before you can argue, he’s already on his phone.

"Yes, I want the entire boutique. No, I don’t care about the cost. Send the keys to my penthouse."

He hangs up, then tilts your chin up with a finger.

"Congratulations, kitten. You own a shoe store now. Feel better?"

His smirk is infuriatingly smug, but the way he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear makes your heart skip a beat.

🍎 🌌 Caleb

His hands hover awkwardly as he watches you cry, his expression twisting into quiet panic.

"Hey, hey, come on now," he murmurs, pulling you against his chest. His grip is firm but comforting, his heartbeat steady under your ear. "They’re just shoes, pip-squeek. I’ll get you another pair, better ones."

He strokes your back, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Don’t cry, alright? I can’t stand seeing you like this."

His touch lingers, and for a moment, he forgets the world outside of you.

❄️ ⛄ Zayne

He sighs, folding his arms, watching you like you’re the most illogical puzzle he’s ever encountered.

"You’re crying over shoes," he states, as if saying it out loud will somehow make it make sense. Then, without another word, he lifts his hand, ice swirling in his palm. The frost takes shape, forming into delicate, shimmering heels—like Cinderella’s glass slippers but with the elegance of a winter night.

"They won’t melt, they won’t break," he says, adjusting his gloves. "And they’re yours. Now put them on. We’re going to the new restaurant, and I refuse to let you be late because of this."

☀️ 🐇 Xavier

He watches you in silence for a moment, then sighs, taking off his coat and draping it over your shoulders.

"Alright, let's take a deep breath," he murmurs, rubbing slow circles on your back. "I know you wanted them, but they’re just shoes. You’ll find something even better."

His voice is warm, steady, like he’s grounding you. Then, after a beat, his lips curl into a smirk.

"Or, if you really want them, I can track the buyer down and… negotiate."

The glint in his eye is teasing, but the way he squeezes your hand reassures you more than any words could.

🎨 🐟 Rafayel

His reaction is instant—gasping dramatically, clutching his heart.

"No! My love, my muse, my poor, delicate flower!" He pulls you into his arms, rocking you slightly as if you’re the most fragile thing in the world. "We must avenge your loss—wait, no, I know what to do!"

He lifts your chin, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"We’ll design our own! The most breathtaking, one-of-a-kind heels, handcrafted by the finest Lemurian artisans. And while we wait, you can wear my shoes. They’re far superior anyway."

He winks, tilting his head playfully.

"How can I let my beloved bodyguard suffer when I live to see you smile?"

[bleachblomde]

imagine being one of caleb's students rn. ludinus put his ass back its midterms season

[cherryapplefish]

It’s summer when he gets down on one knee.

Summer when eyes like the sunrise you watched together this morning look up at you with hope and love as if he shouldn’t already know the answer.

Summer when your throat closes up, tears brimming in your eyes, and whether it’s the heat of the sun or the blood rushing to your cheeks, your face burns.

And it’s always been summer. Always been summer when you’ve made your most cherished memories.

Melted popsicles on small hands. Sweat running down the back of your neck. Caleb by your side.

It’s always been summer when he took you by the hand and dragged you out to watch fireworks. It’s always been summer when you sat under the stars while he babbled about the different constellations and going beyond the deep space tunnel. It’s always been summer when you looked up at him and realized that you want him by your side for the rest of your life, whatever that means.

It’s summer when Caleb gets down on one knee, a velvet box holding a silver ring in one hand, and asks:

“Will you marry me?”

[gravity-between-us]

Gravity Between Us Chapter Masterlist

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try. Pairing: Female MC x Caleb

Spoiler Alert: Potential spoilers for Caleb's Myth's as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers. Warnings:

Unlikely to be canon.

The other love interests will not appear in this fic. I consider this more of an AU where it's only Caleb in this timeline.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be somewhat different from the memories in-game.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Explicit smut (eventually). Chapter 12 onward.

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb - Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions. More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

Chapter 1: Redshift Chapter 2: Tidal Forces Chapter 3: Cosmic Ruin Chapter 4: Dark Matter Chapter 5: Lagrange Point Chapter 6: Ghosts in the Machine Chapter 7: Stellar Crossroads Chapter 8: Breach Chapter 9: Orbiting You Chapter 10: Event Horizon Chapter 11: Between Two Suns Chapter 12: Beneath the Sleeping Sky Chapter 13: Cosmic Entanglement Chapter 14: Constellations Never Tell Chapter 15: Shattered Light Chapter 16: Orbital Decay Chapter 17: Zero Gravity

A story I started for myself because I got inspired to write a more socially awkward MC (like myself, because we can't all be badass) and thought others might enjoy some of the silliness, angst, fluff, and the eventual smutty goodness. A huge thank you to everyone who's read, reblogged, or left comments! Your support means the world to me and keeps me inspired. 💕

[junespriince]

"oh this li would have beef with this li" "no no li would hate this li"

Zayne would hate every single li we have rn. Think about it in his shoes, your love one just drops that she has this jealous coworker who apparently been fighting wonders since 3yo (or that he's from S DIFFERENT TIME PERIOD), a man who claims to be a fish boy that conically paid someone to stalk ya so he could go to your college and an artist that painting kinda def killed someone, a mobster from the n109 that is the most wanted man ever, and ya dead childhood friend who might be evil (idk yet but ya ate a apple menacingly dude wtf) coming basically back from the dead and prob has some beef from childhood he def be carrying around for years and you try not to hate every single one of them lol

Tara be like get that bag baby, and him too but also wtf how do you keep adding more danger to your life.

In short, mc gonna make that man gray early or is and he's been dying his hair this whole time.

[chichayuen]

I'll be there, Always.

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🍰PAIRING: [LADS] Caleb x fem!reader word count: 3.5k 🍓GENRE: Slow-burn, Angst, Hurt/Comfort 🍎SYNOPSIS: A slow-burn of childhood friendship, unspoken longing, and bittersweet of growing up. 🎀TAGS: Unspoken feelings, frustration over mixed signals, unspoken insecurities, drifting away, mutual but unconfessed feelings 💌A/N: I used the 3rd perspective just to make the story more emotionally convincing. This is mainly focused on Y/N... She/her pronouns too! Sorry :( I decided to post this first part since I have already proofread it. Grammars still suck though :( AND CALEB might be OOC, but that's how I imagine him in a situationship haha FIRST FANFIC BTW!! LET'S GOOOOO ALSO!! Listen to Niki's version of "You'll be in my heart" (in loop) as you read this first part. This story was inspired by it!

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The rain kept pouring, hitting against all the windows they had in their home. The rain’s patter was as soft as a wish fading before it was spoken. What wishes could be made though? They’re already living a life filled with contentment. Y/N never wishes to change something. She already has a home, a meal to eat every day, an old woman to look after her… and better, Caleb. It wasn’t that long enough to have him for herself. In some ways, he was always there- like an overworked, lone officer on duty, protecting her as if she were his last safe place.

Soon enough, a deep, rolling growl rumbled from outside, making her whimper softly in fear. There was no way that she could be facing the thunder- she was still just a little girl... Who would stand up bravely before the wrath of the gods?

Those sounds made it seem as if the gods hated her, causing her tears to fall out of her eyes. “Come on, N/n,” Caleb looked at her with worried brows and a small smile. His patience never wavered when it came to her. “You have to face it again.” He turned away slightly, worry flickering in his eyes as he glanced toward the door. He could hear his friends being loud outside on the street, caught in the rain.

Y/N felt her soft cotton sweater tugged by the hem of her sleeve. “I’m here this time, okay? If you want to come with me and play outside, you have to face the thunder,” he encouraged her while focusing back on her, giving her another slightest tug.  “Trust me pip, we may be small… but we are here to conquer the world! Nothing can stop us, remember?”

She was still pouring tears, sobbing as her mouth quivered, letting out soft gasps that should have been words meant for him instead. She could only utter, “The thunder can stop me, Caby… I-I’m still scared.”

Caleb winced internally in response. He hadn’t meant to accidentally trap her in the attic weeks ago while he was out there protecting her… or rather, forgetting to let her out while having his own adventure with his supposed “bullies”. His hands reached out to her chubby and soft reddened cheeks, with traces of tears on them.  “You were brave, Pipsqueak. Even if I found you curled up in the corner, you managed to protect yourself without me.” Caleb then wiped her tears. “You’ll be okay. Caleb trusts you more than himself.”

Then, Y/N embraced him slowly, hooking her arms firmly from below and over his shoulders, pulling him in as if he might disappear. Caleb is slightly taken aback, yet his gaze softens from familiarity. He buried his face into her hair, his hands steady there as well, vowing to the universe to protect her. That’s all he needed to prove his enduring love for her.

From that embrace, he found himself with a determined resolve. He slowly leaned back, his hands slipping to her shoulders as hers fell limply to her sides. “Listen, Pip,” He grinned, showing his missing tooth. “You don’t have to force yourself out there… If you need me beside you, I’ll guarantee to keep you safe.” Caleb took a step back and lifted his hand for her. “But if my pipsqueak needs me now and forever, then… the mighty Caleb chooses to be with her.”  When Y/N placed her palms on top of his, he continued, “After all, I promised to be there for her.”

“And… I won’t go outside this time, well—for now. You don’t want me getting sick from the rain, right?” He said with a chuckle, pulling Y/N alongside him as they went further back into the house, ditching his friends who were still playing outside in the rain.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

The rain had long passed, but Caleb never did. Even after all these years, he was still her protector, her best friend— the same boy who once held her close during thunderstorms, whose hands wiped away her tears, and whose presence made the world feel a little less frightening. Yet, somewhere along the way, he became more aware—more cautious as soon as it was about Y/N. It didn’t feel right to her at least, he was never the type of guy who would isolate himself. Even if he was, she couldn’t figure out the reasons why he would.

In the classroom, his voice blended with the buzz of laughter and casual banter. His placement was 2 columns apart, with two chairs sharing one table at every column for seating arrangement. Y/N glanced at his desk, surrounded by a familiar crowd, who were the same people who sought him out for jokes, favors, and companionship— in short, he was quite well-known.

Y/N sat on her chair, her eyes drawn to him as if he were the only light in the building. He shines so brightly like the sun, making his presence impossible to ignore. It was the same light he carried as a boy, the one that had never dimmed, no matter how much he grew.

She watched the way he leaned against his desk, crossing his arms, flashing a grin that pulled at the corners of her memory. There he was—the boy who once smiled through missing teeth. Funny, isn’t it? Back then, he would grin without a hint of shame, gaps and all, while never caring what anyone thought.

She sighed, propping her cheek against her palm, her eyes narrowing with a deep, aching sense of yearning. How could he be so painfully close, yet so distant when he was with others?

Then, Y/N saw the way he casually brushed his hair back— a small, thoughtless gesture that somehow made her heart tighten. She was used to seeing him loud and carefree with everyone, brimming with confidence, especially with her. But watching him grow shy over something she couldn’t even hear from afar made her feel as though she was missing out on a part of him.

Y/N tucked her hands beneath her desk, clenching them slightly as if she could hold on to the version of him she once knew… the boy who shielded her from everything. But now, whenever his eyes met hers, they were filled with different kinds of worrying ones she couldn’t quite understand. How was it any different from the way he looked at her when they bantered at home? Why did it suddenly feel more hesitant? Was she… someone to be ashamed of?

But she shook the thoughts away with a sigh, all conflicted again. She knew better than to assume so quickly.

“Y/N,”

Zayne’s voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her back to the earth. Thank God for making him her seatmate. Zayne was also her childhood best friend, having to grow up with her and Caleb. Although he appeared later in their lives, he fit in effortlessly. He brought his wit, aloof demeanor, and sharp-minded seriousness into their little trio.

Y/N turned her head toward him, raising a brow in confusion as to why he called her name. “I’m already sensing something,” Zayne muttered with a sigh. “Something you need to address.”

And she knew exactly what he meant.

Zayne had always seen through her; he knew about her longing for Caleb. He had heard it all: the times she missed him, the way she gushed about how cute he looked whenever he bragged about her, and how she wished they could go back—back to the days when they were just kids. Back when Caleb’s attention felt different... much warmer like he was shielding her from the entire world’s coldness.

But now, even when Caleb offered her extra care, it no longer had the same spark. He was still there, but he no longer held her like she was his only princess.

He simply stared at her for a moment before adjusting his glasses. “I heard he’s planning to become a pilot,” he said casually, but the weight of his words hung between them. It was a reminder of the inevitable that soon enough, they would separate and go their own ways.

Y/N always hated the thought of it. She never wanted this to end, never wanted him to leave.

She slowly lifted her head once again, unable to resist stealing another glance at Caleb. And by chance, their eyes met.

For a fleeting moment, her breath caught in her throat. She expected him to smile—to flash her that familiar, easy grin he always saved just for her. The one that felt like home. But this time, he didn’t.

Instead, his gaze faltered, dropping down to his desk. His brows furrowed in some sort of regret while his fingers absently traced the edge of his notebook as if he were suddenly too restless to meet her eyes. The friends chattering near him faded into background noise, yet he paid them little attention.

That stung more than it should have been.

Because in that brief exchange, she felt him slipping away, and she didn’t know how to hold on.

Will he still protect her like he always wanted to?

Y/N turned back to Zayne, her eyes clouded with disappointment and a deep sense of failure. “Zayne���” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly, thick with hurt and longing.

He met her gaze with his expression softening. Without a word, he gave her a reassuring nod as his hand gently patted her head. His small gesture was meant to ease the ache he knew too well.

“We still have time,” he whispered softly. But even if he said it, neither of them was sure if they believed it.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

During lunch, Caleb casually made his way to Zayne and Y/N. After all, they were his original friends. He grew up with them, so it was normal to join them from time to time despite being popular. The surroundings were lively and bustling, filled with laughter and cheerful conversations.

Caleb noticed that one stood out, which was Y/N’s downcast look.

She sat there, unusually quiet, with her eyes staring absently at her lunch.

“So,” Zayne began calmly, his gaze cutting towards Caleb with subtle curiosity.

Y/N, still seated beside Zayne, stiffened slightly when Caleb slid into the empty chair in front of them. She perked up the moment she caught Zayne’s voice and attention—it was her cue. He was lowkey eager to hear her continue the conversation.

Taking the chance, she said, “I almost forgot,” with a soft chuckle, though her voice held a faint strain. She placed her lunch aside, reaching into her bag for her notebook.

Once the notebook was in her hands, she turned to Caleb as her eyes turned slightly hopeful. “Caby, I need some small lectures in this… particular—” she flipped the pages open, revealing a mix of notes from other subjects. “…lesson,” she then finished softly.

Caleb’s curiosity was piqued as he glanced at her with his brow slightly furrowed. Then, Y/N slid her notebook close to him, her fingers pointing at a familiar physics lesson.

“That one? Sure, when we get home,” he replied with a casual shrug, though his face was casual, nothing to offend or doubt her thoughts of him.

Y/N nodded subtly in response, a small smile tugging her lips. “I still remember when you taught me the different units of measurement.” her voice mixed with fondness and her eyes softened with nostalgia as she reminisced about the times he tutored her in middle school, particularly about numbers.

“Yeah, I remember that clearly, Pip,” he replied softly. At first, she thought she had it… until she noticed his little amusement in his tone and reaction.

He shifted his focus back to the pages she had shown him. His eyes skimmed the notes with a distant air, a chance for him to be detached from the moment.

Her chest tightened at his lack of response. She couldn’t help but look at him with her eyes drooping slightly, filled with disappointment. Usually, he would light up with the brightest grin, like a dog receiving its favorite treat. He would also carry on with their memories, eagerly describing his side of the story—or adding little details about their shared adventures.

But this time, he didn’t.

He just didn’t.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

Caleb waited at the gates, leaning against the wall with his eyes fixed on the pavement. His friends had already left, and the lingering silence was beginning to weigh on him. Going home together was a part of their routine… familiar comfort he quietly counted on.

When Zayne and Y/N finally emerged from the main entrance, his posture straightened slightly as the faint flicker of energy returned to his eyes.

But when they drew closer, he didn’t greet them with his usual joyous smile. Instead, he simply watched them approach, his expression calm but distant.

Caleb’s fingers tightened around the strap on his shoulder, while his other hand hung loosely by his side.

The three of them eventually stepped through the gate and turned to face one another.

“See ya,” He casually murmured, raising his hand slightly in farewell to Zayne. The latter simply nodded in return, his expression stoic as ever.

When his eyes shifted to Y/N, Caleb caught the glance they exchanged. The way Zayne’s gaze lingered on her face made him forget to breathe, a dull ache of bitterness pooling inside him. There was no possessiveness in it.

He wasn’t jealous… just envious. Though he wasn’t sure if there was any much of a difference.

Zayne nodded at Y/N once more, and she offered him a soft smile in return. With a casual gesture, he patted her head, his expression giving no effort.

“Cheer up,” Zayne muttered flatly, his tone lacking any real conviction.

She chuckled softly, her eyes brimming with faint warmth before she gently pushed his hand away. “Yeah, yeah…” she teased lightly, though she couldn’t help but find it amusing. His reassurance always meant something, even with a face that didn’t look the slightest bit convincing.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

Y/N kept walking, but her thoughts grew heavier with every step. Doubt and questions clouded her mind, blurring the edges of her resolve. Caleb, however, lags slightly behind, breaking the familiar rhythm of walking side by side. The distance between them, though small, felt unbearably vast.

She couldn’t take it anymore, at least… not without her heart feeling like it might cave in. But still, she kept her head low, unwilling to meet his eyes or face the heavy, humid air that lingered between them.

Did Caleb even realize how much his avoidance weighed on her chest? Why was it painfully quiet now as they walked together?

And when, exactly, had it become this way?

As she walked, Y/N caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye, his hand subtly lifting beside her wrist. It might seem odd and almost out of place for a fleeting moment. Yet, she recognized it for what it was—a fragile attempt to reach out and a quiet plea for her to notice him.

But just as quickly, his hand retreated, and she heard him wince from behind. The faint sound confirmed that she wasn’t imagining or hallucinating it. Without a second thought, she halted, her sudden stop causing Caleb to stiffen in surprise. He came to an abrupt pause, and his eyes snapping up to meet hers.

When their eyes finally locked, his eyes were wide and startled. But hers were weighed down with sadness, worry, confusion, and that small unmistakable trace of longing.

Caleb froze, his breath catching. She had never looked at him that way before. But if he could see into her heart, he’d know that was exactly how he looked at her too.

His brows slowly knit in concern, mirroring the sorrow in her eyes. Even his chest was tightened with yearning, but he forced himself to bury it. Caleb tried to mask it with indifference, but it was painfully too obvious. No matter how he tried,

He couldn’t hide the way he ached for her, too.

He even tried to find reasons why he couldn’t fight the inevitable for her. When he once could so easily as a child where he would stand tall without fear, protecting her from anything with unwavering confidence. But now, he felt so small and unsure, afraid that if he reached for her, he might end up losing her completely in the process.

Y/N sniffled softly and stepped closer, reaching for his calloused hands with both of hers, wrapping around the hand that had longed to reach hers earlier. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment, it was enough. Caleb never realized his avoidance would only deepen their longing and it would make it harder to ignore. But he knew he was still strong enough to hold back, convincing himself that Y/N no longer needed him the way she once did as a child.

With a shaking breath, she slowly lifted his hand to her temple, her brows knitting tighter with the weight of everything she couldn’t say to him. She couldn’t speak now—instead, this gesture was her silent plea, a reminder that she still needed him just as much as before.

That simple action alone made his chest tighten with regret, and before he knew it… he was pulling her in—gently, but with aching desperation. His arms wrapped around her, holding her as if he could shield her from everything. He buried his face into her hair, his breath shuddering as vulnerability clung to him and the fear of loneliness engulfed the both of them.

“Don’t look at me like that, Pipsqueak…” his voice fractured with emotion, barely above a whisper. His arms tightened around her, with him trying to keep her from slipping away.

The ache of unspoken feelings hung between them, it was the kind of longing that seeped into their bones… a familiar pain of loving someone so deeply, yet being too afraid to admit it.

They both knew that they should risk it. They absolutely wanted to. But why does he hold back? He was confident—confident enough to make her his. Yet questions linger within him..

If only he knew what held him back.

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1/3 P2 [SOON trust..] plspls tell me how did I do

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Grief

Buckle down, this is a heavy one. I enjoy causing myself emotional pain, and this hurt/comfort fic is definitely it.

Featuring pre-relationship! Sylus and my OC Kit, regarding her past relationship with Caleb, her ex. Kit is NOT the MC (although Kiri, mentioned in this fic, is), but she is an assassin and Sylus's second in command. Ironically, this was established for me before I knew there were "assassin second in command" fics around.

Trigger warnings for this one: Grief, workplace abuse (not Onychinus, briefly mentioned in non-explicit detail), unintentional physical altercations, lack of eating due to grief. This is addressed and resolved in fic.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider giving it a like or a reblog! It lets me know people like what I'm doing and encourages me to continue writing!

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

The phone hits the floor, its screen shattering.

Kit is soon to follow, her knees giving out beneath her. She can hear Luke and Kieran speaking urgently to her, a voice on the other end of the call crackling out from the speaker, but it's all underwater. Muffled sound that should be words is nothing compared to the heart-rending cry that rips from her throat.

“No. No! Caleb!”

Kit doesn't leave her room for three days.

Later, she'll learn that no one thought to call her. The one who finally asked is River, part of the high school/university friend group who had witnessed the beginning and inevitable end of her relationship.

He's the one who broke the news.

Kit doesn't remember much from those three days. She doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and spends most of her time curled up in her lofted space in Onychinus's attic.

She's there when Sylus finally intervenes.

A hot cup of cocoa is put into her hands, its heat startling her enough to make her look up. Sylus's expression is inscrutable, and if she wasn't in shock, she'd have laughed at the way he's bent forward to avoid the low ceiling.

“Drink,” he says firmly. It's an order, not a request.

Kit’s lips touch the edge of the mug, the sweet aroma curling around her. Her mouth trembles, and her stomach twists. As if accepting bodily functions is a cruel smack against her grief.

A reminder that she is alive, and Caleb is not.

Sylus crouches in front of her. His gaze is steady as he waits. A single pale eyebrow raises in disapproval.

“Are you going to disobey?”

She tilts the mug, sweet chocolate coating her tongue, sugar forcing her back to reality.

Tears sting her eyes, and Kit begins to shake.

Sylus takes the mug. He sets it on a side table as she begins to lurch forward, drawing her into his arms.

He holds her tightly as she sobs, shattering apart once more.

At some point, her tears dry up, whether she wants them to or not. Sylus holds out a tissue, although she's not sure where he got the box.

“I got snot all over you,” are the first words out of her mouth.

Sylus snorts. “I know. That's what happens when you bottle things up, kitten.”

Kit closes her eyes tightly. “Not now,” she whispers. He hums a query, and she shakes her head. “I can't- not that one, Sylus.” She chokes up, unaware of the way his eyes widen at the first willing use of his name. “Cay- Caleb is the one who nicknamed me. When we were young. I told him I hated being called Camilla, and he told me that I reminded him more of a cat than a flower. He's the reason I started going by Kitty, and later…” she blew her nose, trying to fight off another wave of sobs. “And later, Kit. He called me Kitty-cat.”

A gentle hand grazes her cheekbone, brushing at the corner of her eye. She opens them to see Sylus’s expression. It's softer than she's ever seen it.

“Okay, sweetie,” he replies soothingly. “I won't use it.”

Kit leans into his touch, into the warmth of his palm, until he's cupping the side of her face. “Not forever,” she whispers. “I like it when you call me that. Just not right now.”

“He meant a lot to you,” Sylus says. It's a question as much as it is a statement, his hand staying in place where she needs it most. The point of contact feels grounding.

Kit nods. “My best friend, the Hunter who's recovering from the explosion, grew up with him like I did. The three of us were thick as thieves.” She laughs bitterly, staring out the attic window into the dark night.

“Everyone had their expectations, I suppose. They all expected Caleb and I would get together. Our feelings never really mattered, our families pushed us into it. His grandma and my father always seemed to have their heads together, as if they were planning our wedding.”

There's an odd flash of something on Sylus's face, something she can't quite discern. Still, he continues to listen. “Did you…have feelings, then?” He asks carefully.

She reaches over and takes the mug. It's lukewarm now, but she doesn't care. It gives her something to hold onto besides him.

“As I said,” Kit continues. “It never really mattered. Caleb and I were pushed together, like dolls in a dollhouse. We started dating in our first year of high school. It continued until…you know. When I was forced into this life.

I think Caleb knew that something was wrong, but by then we'd graduated, and our relationship began to crumble. My dad retired and fucked off on a trip round the globe, and without that constant parental pressure…” Kit sighs. “It was only right before he left for the academy that I realized I'd fallen in love with him somewhere along the way. I…never did learn if he felt the same way.”

“You can't be serious,” she'd said. Caleb sighs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I am. Sorry, Kitty-cat. I'll be staying at Grandma's until I leave for the academy. Her health’s declining, and Kiri has finals. Someone's got to watch over her.”

“But you don't want me there,” Kit says. She watches the line of his shoulders tense, his hand flexing against the leather handle.

Caleb doesn't look back. “No. I don't. I'll make up some excuse, tell her you're off doing important things.”

“Why?” She goes to move closer, wincing as her stitches pull. Her last job ended poorly, and she'd suffered quite the punishment as a result.

Thankfully, Caleb doesn't see her pain.

He sighs. “Because…she thinks that we're happy. It's her wish, you know. That you and I end up together.”

That hurts more than the cut on her side. “But you don't want us together. Is that it? Are you…” she hesitates, and pushes through. “Are you happy, Cay? With us?”

He reaches out for the door handle. “We'll talk about it when I get back.”

This time, she lunges forward, grabbing the back of his jacket. “When? When you get back from the Academy? Caleb!”

Finally, that gets a reaction out of him. He yanks away, and it sends her to the floor. Kit gasps sharply, black spots dancing across her vision.

Instantly, he whirls, crouching. Caleb’s expression is full of concern, torn between staying and going. “Shit, are you alright? I didn't mean- Camilla, I'm-” He reaches out, and she flinches. It's instinctual.

It's the first time she's ever seen him heartbroken.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I'll leave.” Caleb rises to his feet.

“Caleb, wait-!” She reaches out, but the door’s already clicked shut behind him, and she hears his footsteps pounding down the outside stairs out of their apartment.

For a long time, she sits there. Her question rings over and over again in her head.

'“Are you happy, Caleb?”'

As the sun sets, the last beams of sunlight struggling through the blinds into the living room, Kit makes up her mind.

By the time night comes, all that remains in the apartment are memories left behind and a letter on his pillow, weighed down by a watch she'd intended to gift him for their anniversary, three days away.

Sylus's hands settle over hers on the mug, drawing her out of memories. “We all have regrets,” he says gently. “What's important is that you live on despite them.”

Kit frowns at that. “How cruel to say that to someone who's grieving.”

He squeezes her hands. “I'd rather be cruel than watch you waste away.” Sylus's tone is firm and reprimanding. “I know it hurts. Believe me, I know. But you have to eat. You have to drink. You have to take care of yourself, ki- sweetie. There are living people who care about you.” Sylus cups her face, making her look up at him. Their eyes meet.

Not for the first time, she feels her heart stutter at the intensity of his gaze, and a sharp pang of guilt accompanies it.

“If you can't find a reason to live without him,” he says, an odd bitterness to his voice, “then live because I forced you to. Make me the bad guy. Scream and fight against me, and hate me for it, as long as it gets you to keep going.”

“I could never hate you,” Kit whispers. Her lips tremble as she tries to hold back her tears. His expression is too open, too raw, as if he's showing her something she's not ready to see. She closes her eyes against it, pressing her face into his palms once more. “I just feel so guilty. Like the story of me and him has finished but someone ripped out pages, so I only got to read the very end.”

“Then write a new one with us,” Sylus replies. “That story’s ended, but it doesn't mean you have to. Don't let grief rot you. If he was anything good for you, he wouldn't have wanted that. And neither do I.”

“And neither do we!” The sound of the twins’ voices startles them both, and Kit looks over her shoulder over the edge of the loft. Luke and Kieran stand below, holding a tray of food. Steam rises up, and the accompanying smell makes her stomach growl loudly.

She blushes.

Sylus sighs exasperatedly. “This was supposed to be a private conversation,” he drawls.

“You were taking too long,” Luke throws back at him. “The food was going to get cold.” Kieran nods in agreement.

Kit and Sylus exchange glances, and he squeezes her cheeks until she squawks offendedly, batting his hands away. His eyes are warm, like melted cherry candy. “Come on, sweetie,” he says softly. “Let's eat.”

Kit looks at them all. Her Mischief and Mayhem, down below.

Sylus, her boss, who seems to always cut through her armor to reveal her tender heart.

She sighs in defeat.

“Alright. Let's eat.”

[c-kiddo]

i try with all my might not to be a hater but i just got to episode 100 on my cr2 rewatch and i keep thinking abt this moment in ep99 when tmn straight up ask essek about how it feels to see that adeen (who he framed for his own actions) is in chains instead of him, and essek replies "honestly, freeing" ..... 😐

[ninadove]

Alas… They were made for contrapuntal poetry… 😔

AO3 version here and alt text below!

Cal:

Come back!

I did not mean

to hurt you —

Well perhaps

I did,

but

only

for

that split

second.

Always

I put up a fight,

nurture

empty words;

which lie do you prefer?

You have no idea

how hard it was —

how much I love you.

I didn’t mean it!

I take it all back!

Come home,

brother!

Aron:

To the beginning,

to scrub you off my nails —

that’s where I’m headed.

My best —

it was never enough,

a joke,

a viper’s nest

as the punchline!

To the imperious call

I surrender,

nature

birthing sin.

How to live

when Heaven spat you out?

You read me all wrong,

every single one of you —

man, sinner, worshipper!

???

Come back // to the beginning:

I did not mean // to scrub you off my nails,

to hurt you —

Well, perhaps // that’s where I’m headed.

I did // my best,

but // it was never enough:

only // a joke

for // a viper’s nest,

this split // as the punchline,

second

always // to the imperious call.

I put up a fight, // I surrender:

nurture, // nature,

empty words // birthing sin —

which lie do you prefer?

You have no idea // how to live,

how hard it was when Heaven spat you out,

how much I love you.

I didn’t mean it — // you read me all wrong.

I take it all back! // Every single one of you,

Come home — // man, sinner, worshipper,

brother!

[nanapples]

unlucky / caleb x mc reader tags: angst, unrequited love, unhealthy relationship/dynamic word count: 1.8k

summary: caleb starts dating someone and you take it pretty well... or do you? :p

"what are you smiling about over there?" you giggle, nudging your shoulder against caleb's side. he's been staring at his phone with this huge, annoying grin on his face for about an hour now. you had held back from asking until you just couldn't take it anymore.

caleb looks at you, something shy and secretive in his sweet lavender eyes. "oh, it's nothing." he casually responds.

"yeah right." you deadpan.

"you've been on your phone for the entire movie," you huff, slumping into the back of the couch with a big frown pressed onto your lips. "this is supposed to be our movie night, you know."

"i know, i know." his large, warm hand wraps right around your wrist.

"i'm sorry, pip. i didn't mean to ruin our movie night, it's just…" he trails off with cheeks slowly flushing into a deep red.

"what?" you reach over and pinch those apple red cheeks. "it's just what, huh?"

"ugh…" he brushes your hand away, his eyes falling from yours. he seems oddly conflicted. it's not usually to this extent and it only makes you more curious.

"sorry, it's not nothing." he says after composing himself.

in one swift motion, he turns to you, facing you head on.

"i've been talking to someone." he confesses in one go.

you're left stunned by the suddenness of it all.

"huh?" you stare at his face, making note of the sincerity that mixes into his nervousness.

"she's, um. she's a nurse. in skyhaven." he swallows the knot in his throat. "we didn't get along at first, but after a while… i dunno, i just feel like we've connected somehow," he chuckles, eyes flashing with memories you aren't privy to.

what?

all of the incidents leading up to this moment have changed caleb. in a way, you felt it had killed the caleb you knew, but you were willing to accept him regardless of the facts. even if he was different, so far out of reach, he was still somehow by your side.

but with his confession, the distance has grown exponentially. he suddenly seems oceans away.

it was unbelievable. unfathomable. this was caleb. your caleb. the same person that promised to always be by your side. you had long considered him yours, body and soul. he took care of you, made you feel safe, loved you, cherished you… and now he was suddenly no longer yours?

no. that's not true. he's still yours no matter what, isn't he?

some random woman will never be able to compete with the years that solidified your place in caleb's heart. just as his existence, his presence, has haunted you all your life, you have done the exact same to him. you can't escape him just as much as he can't escape you.

this is just a phase. that's all it is.

"this is amazing, caleb!" you beam after a few seconds of silence, calm after you had soothed the worries that almost broke you into two.

"i can't believe it— when was the last time you pursued a serious relationship like this?"

relief spills onto his face. you see his shoulders relax alongside the corners of his eyes. "this is the first time," he bashfully admits.

"i never really had time for it, y'know?"

he ruffles your hair playfully. "i was way too busy takin' care of a certain someone."

"don't blame me for your lack of a love life!" you stick out your tongue at him. "you're the one that had me pretend to be your girlfriend all the time," you snicker.

"yeah, well. you won't have to do that anymore."

you flinch at how conclusive his tone is. 

"say that after you actually ask her out," you laugh, brushing it off.

caleb grins. "just you wait, pipsqueak."

"i'll win her over in no time!" he confidently exclaims, radiant in a way you've never seen before.

you hold your smile, spewing a few more words of support. you can't let him know you're secretly praying on his downfall. that you're waiting for him to fall back down from his high and come crawling back to you like he always does. you won't let him know what's already written in the stars.

no matter how far away he goes, caleb will always be yours.

…is what you had initially thought.

a month after he had confessed to you about his newfound love interest, they actually got together. he was the happiest you had ever seen when he told you. you could almost taste the joy from him. it was a different kind of caleb, like he had become someone else entirely.

you weren't worried when they got together. you were sure it wouldn't be forever. how could it be? caleb may be infatuated with her, but she will never be you. you and caleb share a special bond. he was basically made for you. he could never live without you, that was an obvious fact. 

you were so confident that he couldn't, but then you saw it. you saw how your days with him dwindled. no more sporadic hang out sessions or movie nights. he wouldn't sleep over at your place, no longer dropped everything for you, and even rejected a few of your dinner invites. these small but important things were no longer yours.

he began giving it all to his girlfriend.

were you… being replaced? seriously?

no. not you. caleb would never do that to you.

it's just a phase. it's not real.

no, no, no.

denial was quick to settle in the space under your chest. you refused the reality right before your eyes. you didn't want it. you could accept anything else other than caleb leaving you. anything else at all.

turning a blind eye to the truth kept you sane for a few months. and when winter rolled around, you were sick of it. both mentally and physically.

for the first time since caleb began dating his partner, he chose to run to you the moment he heard you were sick in bed. you gloated about it the entire time, falling back into the steady rhythm of his tender care. it felt like things had gone back to normal.

finally.

"it looks like you're a bit better now." caleb chuckles, brushing some hair out of your face. "your fever has definitely gone down," he thoughtfully comments, the skin of his palm flat against your forehead, a familiar sensation that leaves you aching for more.

"mhm." you lean into his touch. "it's all thanks to you, caleb."

"obviously." he grins, pleased with himself.

you roll your eyes, falling backwards onto your bed. "there's a blanket in the hallway closet." you tell him, confident that he'll spend the night on the couch.

there's no way he would leave you home alone when you're sick—

"oh." he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "i've actually gotta get back home," he says.

"what? why?" you sit up, frowning, eyebrows furrowed.

he averts his gaze. "my girlfriend is waiting for me."

silence surrounds you.

"haha," you can't help but laugh. "really?"

"pip—"

"get out!" you throw a pillow at him. "go back to your girlfriend since she's so much more important to you!" you shout, your tone venomous with vitriol.

"hey, c'mon!" he holds the pillow between his hands. "you're both important to me, pipsqueak. please don't be like this," he nearly begs.

"am i, caleb?" you narrow your eyes and glare at him. "because i've felt less and less important to you the more this goes on," you huff.

"we used to do everything together. we were inseparable." you clutch at the fabric of your blanket, keeping his eyes locked on you. "you used to be here, caleb. with me."

caleb digests your words for a few seconds. then, he sits on the edge of your bed.

"i didn't know my relationship was affecting you like this." he whispers, staring at you the entire time he speaks. "i had no idea. i thought everything was okay."

"it's not okay." you frown. "how could it be? it's all so different now."

he opens his mouth to respond, but hesitates. it takes a few seconds before he actually talks again. "isn't that the point?"

"change is good, you know," he carefully says, keeping his tone soft. "i know it's scary, but this is just how it's supposed to go."

you scoff. "no, it's not."

"you're not supposed to have gone so far away from me." you reach over and grab his hand.

he pulls away.

caleb, the one person you relied on more than anyone else, pulled his hand away from yours. it wasn't harsh, but the gesture was extremely apparent. it was unusual. he has never, in the many years you've shared with him, rejected your touch like this.

"i'm not going anywhere." he promises, keeping his hand just out of reach from yours. "you know that, pipsqueak. i would never leave you behind."

your eyes grow wet.

"you already have..."

there's a pause. something slithers around you and caleb, leaving you both staring at each other with a pile of words left unsaid.

he takes in  a deep breath, but eventually stops himself before he could actually say anything. what he wanted to say, you don't know, and you weren't sure you even wanted to. it's useless. he won't say the things you want to hear. he won't make this any better.

you can only hang your head in defeat, swallowing a sob you refuse to let him hear.

"thanks for taking care of me today," you say, voice raw and raspy.

"pipsqueak…"

"you can go now." you shuffle back under the blanket. the things you want to say remain buried deep within you, chained down by resentment, spite, and fear.

he stops and stares. just for a few seconds, he lingers. before you could have hope, it's squashed when he stands up from your bed.

"i'll check in on you tomorrow." he pats you on your head. "don't shut me out, okay? i won't let you."

you shift away from his hand. "see you later." you whisper in a small and unsure voice.

how much longer will he be here for you? you don't know.

"see you later." he says through a heavy exhale.

the door to your bedroom opens and closes, your room growing cold and empty the moment he slips away. you sink into silence, hugging your arms close to your chest as if to comfort the heart shattering beneath your flesh. like a child throwing a tantrum, you bury your face into your pillow and sob, left struggling to accept the fact that caleb is no longer yours.

[tsuyalovebot]

ehhh this piece is taking longer than i expected ... (; ; )

it'll probably come out within the next few days! it's actually older than collared and was my first ever exploration of caleb's character, so it's taking me a little longer to polish over it because the ideas in them are kind of old compared to recent works.

have another crumb of my draft in the meantime! :]

[nopynopa]

Anakin : I don’t like sand

Obi wan : I will find the highground