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aeyumicore · 1 month ago

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caleb finds your prenatal gummies

how does caleb react when he finds the bottle of prenatal vitamins you’ve been taking—but not because you're pregnant?

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: caleb x female reader (afab) ━ ✧.˖ WORD COUNT: 1.9k ━ .ᐟ✧ WARNINGS: none really , pure fluff, but vague mentions of unprotected sex, talks of of pregnancy and having children, use of 'pip-squeak' ━ ✧.˖ LINKS: ao3 | twt

got inspired to write this as i was taking my supplements yesterday :') non-smut for a change ahhhh. enjoy!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

”Always so messy.”

Caleb speaks to himself, voice a low amused mutter as he deftly clears off the kitchen counter. You were staying the weekend in Skyhaven, evident by the random items strewn about his massive home.

Yet, Caleb can’t help but smile as he eyes your belongings carelessly discarded all over his kitchen and living room. Your favorite fuzzy blanket draped over the couch’s armrest, grazing the floor. Your shoes haphazardly taken off by the front door, right next to, but not on, the dedicated shoe rack. Coasters left behind on the kitchen bar, still sticky with dripped apple soda.

You were a menace. But he wouldn’t trade your specific brand of chaos for anything in the entire universe.

You were the one that made this lonely empty house a home, after all.

His grin widens as he remembers just how clean your own apartment in Linkon always is. Naturally, he comes to the conclusion that you only act like this when you know he’s there to pick up after you. To take care of you.

The most important job he’s ever had.

The sound of the shower continues to run upstairs while Caleb tidies up the living spaces. He quickly returns ingredients back to their designated cabinets, abandoned after you so thoughtfully cooked dinner for him last night. As he shuts the cabinet, he sighs, eyes catching sight of the various vitamin bottles you’d left on the counter, nearly hidden by the rice cooker.

He gathers them up in his large palms, finding a spot for them in his own cabinet of medicine and supplements.

One by one, he meticulously puts them onto the shelf.

Omega-3, vitamin C, collagen, creatine, prenatal gummies, vitamin B-12—

Wait.

Prenatal gummies?

Caleb’s violet eyes widen, his breath stuck in his throat, as he reads those red words over and over.

Prenatal gummies for pregnant or nursing women. With folic acid and DHA. Whatever that meant.

His heartbeat quickens as his mind races a mile a minute, his thoughts landing abruptly on the only plausible explanation.

Were you really…pregnant?

Was it possible? Yes.

On more than one occasion, definitely way more times than he could count on two hands, he hadn’t been…careful. You’d begged for it, but he should have known better. It was his job to protect you.

But it’d always been on non-fertile days, or that’s what your little period-tracking calendar had always said.

No, Caleb thinks in a sheer panic. Please no. I can’t be a dad. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

He’d barely been able to protect you at the lab. He couldn’t possibly let down someone else—a child, a baby. Your baby. That you’d made together.

He would not survive failing your child. Through heaven and hell, that is something he’d never be able to recover from.

Caleb runs a shaky hand through his dark brown hair, his normally controlled and collected Colonel’s mask completely and utterly shattered at his feet.

Right now, he was just Caleb, the man who dedicated his entire life, who’d give up anything and everything, to protect you—and would do so until his last breath.

And this Caleb had never been more terrified in his entire life. Through an entire life of experimentation, through traveling the Deepspace Tunnel, through an explosion that nearly claimed his life, he’d never been more scared than he was right now.

Fatherhood.

The world felt like it was closing in on him—every time he’d failed you replaying in the ever expanding black hole that was his mind.

The lab. Losing you during the Chronorift Disaster. Every bully, every knee scraped. Ever. The Toring chip. The list goes on and on.

His chest tightened until he could hardly breathe, his knuckles white with the force at which he gripped the bottle of prenatals.

He wasn’t equipped for this.

And yet…he couldn’t deny how many times he’d thought about this life, with you. A life of mundane and blissful domesticity. No Fleet politics, no Wanderers, no imminent danger at every fucking corner.

A life you’d created together. When he’d grown up thinking there was no such thing. That there would never be a world that the two of you could truly call yours.

“Caleb?”

Your voice pulls him out of his all-consuming thoughts. His head snaps up to see you coming down the stairs, your hair wet, body swimming in one of his big shirts. Your face, beautiful as ever, is laced with concern as you see how uncharacteristically pale he is.

When his eyes meet yours, you can’t help but smile, always so happy to see his face and sparkling nebulous eyes—even when he looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Your smile doesn’t fade as you approach him, palms instinctively coming to rest on his chest when you reach him.

And just like that, he wasn’t so scared anymore.

The thought of a little you running around. With that smile?

A mini version of the most precious thing in his life. One that’d undoubtedly drive him insane with that same attitude he loved so dearly.

That had your laugh as he pointed out different types of planes soaring through the sky. Or your mischievous curiosity as he taught him how to fly his very first jet.

Yeah. He could get used to the idea of that.

“Did something happen? You look like you’re about to be sick,” you raise an eyebrow at him. It’s then he finally releases the plastic bottle of supplements, setting it down on the counter with a soft ‘clack’.

Your eyes immediately drift to the source of the intrusive sound, widening when they see what he was so fixated on.

”Caleb it’s—”

You’re cut off by your own squeal, Caleb’s big palms gently but firmly gripping either side of your waist, pulling you so close you could hear his pounding heart.

“Am I—I mean are we actually…Are you pregnant?”

You can’t help but giggle at his frantic words, stumbling over himself with none of the usual poise and polish of the Farspace Fleet’s revered colonel.

Caleb’s hand moves from your waist to your tummy, his thumb stroking softly against the fabric of his ratty shirt. His palm cups against your naval without thinking, already instinctively providing a protective barrier between the most important things to him and the rest of the world.

”I…I don’t know if I’d be any good at this,” he whispers, nebulous eyes bright with emotion, “I don’t know if I’d be a good dad.”

Your eyes widen at his vulnerable admission, not expecting it in the least. You’d never expressly discussed starting a family that extended beyond the two of you, but it’d always felt like something Caleb wanted. A stark contrast to his words, you always knew Caleb would be an amazing dad, if that was what the two of you decided you wanted.

Before you can interrupt, Caleb continues, “But—God help me…I will never let anything happen to you. Either of you.”

Your heart flutters at the sincerity of his solemn vow, and you find yourself unable to form the words you should say.

”Caleb…you….” you trail off with a gulp, unsure how to verbalize the torrent of emotions you have for this unbelievably incredible man.

“You’d be the best father.” Your quiet whisper rings whole-heartedly, voice thick with adoration and a bubbling anticipation for your future with him.

Caleb watches you with rapt attention, his heartbeat still hammering like the thrum of a hummingbird’s wings amidst the silence between you two. You’re about to open your mouth again—tell him you’re not pregnant, when he picks you up and backs away from the kitchen counter so he can spin you around. His strong hands are secure under your armpits, the smile on his face so effortlessly Caleb.

Behind the thin mist of fear in his eyes, this was the brightest you’d ever seen Caleb.

You can’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, clutching his muscled shoulders.

“Caleb, put me down!” you demand through your unabashed laugh of delight.

”No,” Caleb grins, “You’re never walking anywhere ever again—never lifting a single finger. Not while you’re carrying our baby.” He suddenly swings you so that his arm is hooked under your knees, carrying you like a prince would a princess.

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt, but you know you have to tell him the truth. You couldn’t bear to disappoint him, but what’s worse was giving him false hope.

Reaching up to tenderly cup his face with your hands, your voice shakes, “Caleb…”

Caleb smiles warmly at you, his cheeks leaning into your touch, “Yeah, princess?”

You bite your lip at how adorably he resembles a happy puppy, his earlier fear seeming to have evaporated into pure excitement.

You find tears inexplicably forming in your eyes, grieving a pregnancy that was never even there to begin with. Blinking them back, you rip off the bandaid.

“I’m not pregnant.”

Seeing the befuddled expression in his features, his amethyst eyes squinting with unanswered questions, you continue, “The prenatals aren’t for that. A friend recommended them for my skin. Since work’s been a little stressful and I’ve been breaking out.”

You clutch his jacket, staring at his chest—waiting for him to speak. To express disappointment. Maybe even scold you for letting him believe, even if only for a minute.

“You’re stressed? How come you didn’t tell me? What’s going on at work?”

Caleb only stares at you with genuine concern, still not setting you down, holding you tighter. Your heart hammers at the worry laced in his voice, drowning in emotions that that was what he was most concerned about.

Your troubles.

“N-Nothing serious, it’s just workplace politics—anyways! The point is I’m not pregnant, okay? I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

You can’t stop the apology from tumbling out, even when you know you have nothing to be sorry for. But just seeing how excited he’d been is enough to make you feel like a monster for being the one to squash it.

Caleb sets you down so that you’re sitting on the counter, his thick body positioned between your thighs. Your heart can’t help but sink at the simple action that felt like it signified so much more. That he was disappointed with you.

But suddenly Caleb flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Hey!”

“Dummy,” he mutters, thumb soothing the area he’d flicked, “Why are you sorry?”

“I—you were so excited,” you say sheepishly, “I probably should’ve mentioned I started taking them before you found them yourself.”

Caleb chuckles, almost in disbelief, hooking your hair behind your ear. Before he can respond, you whisper, “You’re really not mad?”

“How could I be mad?”

His hand abandons the edge of the counter, once again coming to rest over your stomach. His thumb strokes you reassuringly.

“Just knowing that you think I…” he trails off, his own voice murky with emotions.

“That I’d be worthy of being the father of your children.”

You place your hand over his, squeezing gently. It felt almost comical—the two of you in the kitchen, hands pressed over your stomach like there was anything there.

“Besides, I’m not in a rush,” he smiles gently, taking your chin into his fingers and brushing his lips against yours.

“We have a whole lifetime to make our own little pip-squeak.”

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

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stargirlygirl · 1 month ago

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when the condom gets stuck in you, so caleb fishes it out

soaked in sweat, you collapse onto the bed with a huff. from behind you, caleb chuckles while his hands pry your thighs apart.

“i gotta clean you up, pips,” he pants.

“mhmm,” you hum as you grab a strewn pillow and snuggle into it. your boyfriend’s blissed-out eyes narrow at the fluffy intruder taking his place.

his voice has an edge to it as he mutters, “be right back.” the mattress hugs your sole figure as you moan softly from the aftershocks of your nth orgasm tonight. the copper sheets rustle, and the bed dips as caleb returns with a damp towel in hand. he wipes up your pussy’s drool, knocking your clit in the process.

“caleb!” you squeal.

he grins, “sorry, honey,” while running the towel over your inner thighs. he then guides you onto your back and cleans your vulva properly. the coolness of the towel is refreshing, a nice contrast to caleb’s hot mouth and even hotter tongue. once he’s satisfied, the colonel starts wiping himself up.

but something’s missing!

he thought his cock was feeling a little too exposed when he was grabbing the towel, but didn’t bother to look down. now that he has, he realises the condom has vanished.

you’re in a daze, mewling quietly as your boyfriend overturns pillows and bunches up the sheets. the pillow is still in your clutch, keeping you safe as you journey back down from your high.

he nudges your leg unintentionally in his frantic search, making you whine, “calebbbb, what’re you doing?” not spotting the condom anywhere, he sucks in a sharp breath.

“pips,” he starts, his usual charisma gone. “the condom came off, and i can’t find it.”

“mhmm,” you sigh, shifting onto your side and adjusting your body to get cosy.

he places a hand on your hips and sways you gently, “pips, did you hear what i just said?”

“mhmm,” you reply. but, in fact, you did not hear him.

“don’t ‘mhmm’ me, baby. i can’t find the condom,” he says, frustrated.

“what?” you grumble tiredly. caleb rolls you onto your back again and pries the pillow from your grasp.

“i said,” he sighs, while chucking it amongst the mess that is his bed. “i can’t find the condom.” you rub your eyes, the worried look on his sweet features blinking into focus as you gaze around you.

“what do you mean you can’t find the condom?” you ask, your breath hitching in sudden panic. your puppy leans over you and cups your face before planting a smooch on your lips.

drawing back, he says in a calmer tone than before, “don’t stress, honey. i’m gonna find it, okay?” you nod with pouty lips, your fingers encircling his wrists.

he continues, “i think it’s still inside of you, baby.” your eyes widen as you stare at him like a deer in headlights.

“what?!” you exclaim, sitting up and shoving him off you. looking down at your pussy, you clench your walls, trying to locate the missing condom. you gaze up at caleb whose eyes are flickering between yours and your coochie.

you ramble, “i can’t feel anything out of the ordinary. are you sure it’s not around here?” he nods earnestly and places his hands on your shoulders.

giving them a light squeeze, he reassures you, “i promise you, honey. i’m gonna fix this.” he pushes you down gently and props your hips up on the same pillow he was glaring at moments ago. you whine as he spreads your legs wide, but before sinking between them, he perks up like a lost pup whose heard its owner’s voice.

“wait,” he says breathily. “let me google it.”

“caleb!” you call. he scrambles over you to grab his phone and starts typing away furiously. clicking on an article, he scrolls to the ‘how to remove a stuck condom’ section.

“okay,” he starts. “relax vaginal muscles. insert one or two fingers. fish out condom using a hook-like motion. try to push the condom out like a baby.”

“caleb,” you groan. setting the phone back down on his bedside table, your boyfriend kisses your forehead before dashing off to the bathroom to wash his hands. coming back, he positions himself between your thighs.

“alright, step one: try to relax,” he instructs, his breath fanning your pussy. your clit twitches as you clench, scared of what’s going to happen next.

“pips,” he says in that warning tone. “i know you’re worried, but you gotta relax and let me help you, okay?” you nod energetically and attempt to still your muscles.

he reminisces, “d’you remember the first time we had sex? you were clenching around me so tight, and i was trying so hard not to cum. honestly, it was like i’d died and gone to heaven—”

“caleb,” you grumble.

“right,” he grins sheepishly. “point is, you were sooooo nervous. but once we got into it, you were fine. this is similar.” you lift your head from your pillow and gaze down at him with a knot in your brow.

“this is not similar,” you ground out.

one hand rubs your hip soothingly as he replies, “it could be.”

you sigh, “baby, please,” as you slump on the bed. the mattress vibrates with your movement as the springs creak.

a few seconds of silence pass before caleb says cheekily, “now that you’re relaxed, we’re gonna move onto step two: mission ‘retrieve the lost condom’.” you groan as you cover your face with your hands.

“colonel xia, reporting for duty. soldier pipsqueak, prepare for insertion of two fingers,” he says in his military voice. you can’t help but laugh, feeling much more at ease as he prods your entrance.

“steady now, soldier. we wouldn’t want any sudden movements to jeopardise our mission, would we?” you shake your head and keep your hips stable as much as you can.

your colonel coos, “good work, soldier pipsqueak.” his long fingers slip in with little resistance. if anything, your gummy walls suck him in, hungry for the kind of pleasure only he can provide. his fingertips slide up your ridges, searching for the lost object.

after a minute or so, he stops.

glancing up at you, caleb grins, “it seems we’ve encountered a foreign object. brace yourself for turbulence, soldier.”

one second.

that’s all he gives you before his fingers start ‘hooking’ the condom. with his free hand, your boyfriend grabs yours and intertwines your fingers.

“now, push,” he commands.

“push?” you sputter.

“like you’re giving birth.”

“i’m not pregnant!” you say exasperated. his eyes sharpen as you feel him nudge your walls.

“you might be, pips, if i don’t get this condom out.” you whimper before following his orders. it’s strange, pushing but trying not to let anything slip out at the same time. this is enough of an accident and an embarrassment for one night, you don’t need another on your hands. well, his hands if you think about it–

“ugh, caleb,” you groan, feeling defeated as his fingers continue fishing around in your hole.

“almost there, soldier. i’ve got a firm hold on our target. just one more push,” he murmurs.

“for love of—” you push again, and finally, caleb’s fingers slide out, the slick, crumpled condom between them.

you sigh, your body melting as he tosses it in the trash bin. climbing up your frame, he peppers kisses all over your face before landing one right on your lips. you moan into his mouth while cupping his jaw, so glad that uncomfortable predicament has been dealt with.

breaking the kiss, ropes of spit connect your lips as your colonel grins all goofy. his sunset eyes twinkle in the warm lamplight, and his hair is ruffled. you giggle and yank him down on top of you. he cries out as your bodies slam together, your nose already nuzzling his neck.

“pips,” he mumbles into your ear.

you exhale, “i’d say that our mission’s complete, wouldn’t you, colonel xia?” he chuckles breathily into your warm skin and inhales your sweaty-sweet scent.

“thanks for trusting me, soldier,” caleb says tenderly while flipping you two around. he grabs the blankets and hikes them over your bodies, all the way up to your chin. then, he rests one hand on your upper back and the other on the back of your head, stroking your hair gently.

you sigh contentedly, “always, baby.” in his loving embrace, you fall asleep while caleb thinks about the plan b he’s going to buy you before you wake up tomorrow morning.

presenting it to you mid-teeth brushing, you spit out the foamy toothpaste and challenge him, “maybe we should try it raw next time?” his self-restraint only lasts until you swallow down the little pill. then, he’s pouncing on you and dragging you back to bed for part two.

embarrassing/gone wrong sex moments m.list full m.list

#cracking up as i was writing this one #★’s works #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #caleb xia #lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb smut #crack fic

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little-miss-apple · 4 months ago

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Frustrated you rummage through your drawer. You have been looking for your favourite pair of panties everywhere. The laundry basket, the washing machine, the dryer...

This was the fourth pair of panties you had lost over the past two weeks. You started questioning your sanity after the last pair vanished because you definitely remembered throwing it in the laundry with the rest of your clothes.

You sit back, huffing in annoyance. How is this even possible? The other pieces of clothing you wore that day came out perfectly fine. You didn't pack much for this trip to Skyhaven so you'd soon run out of panties if they kept disappearing like this.

For a moment you debate if it could've ended up with Caleb's clean laundry, but the two of you didn't exactly wear the same type of undergarments. He would've noticed and returned them by now, right?

You mentally scold yourself as you slip into his room. You felt stupid for even trying but you were at your wits ends. So when you open his drawer and don't see your panties anywhere, you let out a dry laugh.

"I'm so stupid..." you whisper to yourself as you let yourself fall onto his bed. Your fingers trail over the fabric of his bedding. It still smells like him. He's away a lot these days, saying the fleet is busy.

You close your eyes and pull his pillow to your chest, wanting to feel and hold a semblance of him. The second you open your eyes they fall onto a familiar pattern.

"what the hell...."

Caleb returns home when it's almost midnight. The lights in his apartment are all turned off, so he assumes you went to bed early today. Panic sets off the second he peaks into your room and notices your empty bed.

He frantically calls out your name as he searches high and low, not stopping until he finds you sitting on his bed with dimmed lights and your limbs crossed.

"..you scared me pipsqueak," he says as his breathing regulates "what are you doing in here?"

"can't I be here?" you ask, voice sickingly sweet.

"ofcourse you can, you're always welcome in my room..."

"so, you're not hiding anything or something?"

"no...?" he says in a questioning tone "I usually keep classified documents in my office."

"Then what is this?" you say oh so innocently as you dangle your missing panties on your finger.

shit.

He instantly drops to your feet, still in his fleet uniform, his eyes look almost pleading as he looks up at you.

"I'm sorry, please... I don't know what came over me... I just- I thought I'd keep them for when you leave.. and I'll miss you... but they smelled so nice and like you-"

To be honest, apart from the fact that you were running out of underwear, you didn't really mind. If anything you thought it was kind of adorable in a sick and perverted way. But the way he looks at you, begging for forgiveness for giving into his perverted needs, it does something to you.

What was supposed to be some playful teasing suddenly intertwines with the need to almost punish him, keep him on his knees and make him beg for more.

"never knew you were such a disgusting pervert..." the words sound foreign when they leave your lips and if he was any closer, your speeding heartbeat would betray you.

His eyes grow wide for a moment before he stammers; "I am... I am a disgusting pervert.. you- you should punish me..."

Your heart is pounding harder by the second. You let out a shaky breath as you try to compose yourself.

"put your hands behind your back." you command and he oblidges.

Your foot finds its way to his shoulder and you notice the way his eyes flick to the edge of your skirt. You lean back and allow your foot to drag down his chest slowly, observing the way his breath hitches as you go lower.

"A highly respected colonel turning out to be a sick and deprived puppy for me..."

He nods feverishly.

"I'm your puppy, I'm your puppy.. I'll do whatever you want me to do- please-"

Your foot reaches the bottom of his abdomen and you gently apply pressure to his hard cock. He let's out a strangled groan.

"what did you do with them?"

"w-what?"

"with my panties... what did you do with them?" you apply some more pressure.

"I- I'd smell them... jerk off with them... imagine it was you.... 'cus- 'cus I'm your dirty puppy..."

"... take off my panties."

His dick twitches in his pants and you don't have to tell him twice. His hands eagerly lift your skirt and slip the lace white panties down your legs. His hands tremble as he notices how soaked they are.

"Can I eat you out? Please? please I'll be so good... please?" he begs you, puppy dog eyes almost burning into your soul. How could you ever deny him when he looks at you like that?

You nod, giving him the green light. You are instantly tackled as he grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed like an eager puppy. His mouth immediately flies to you clit, sucking and licking it like a starved man.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging it as you let out a surprised yelp. He hungrily laps your pussy, taking anything you're willing to give him.

"you taste so good..." he says, voiced muffled. He sounds like a drunk man, completely intoxicated by your juices. You can almost hear the way his eyes roll back in his head.

He puts his tongue flat against you, licking stripes from your opening to you clit, sucking the bundle of nervers when he comes near it. Your ankles lock behind his head as you desperately try to pull him impossibly closer.

You don't think you've ever came this hard before. The blissful release so strong that it leaves your whole world spinning as you arch your back of the bed and gasp for air. When you regain some strength, you look down, meeting his eyes that look oh so drunk on you, eyes hazy but still focused on you.

Shakily you sit up on the edge of the bed, forcing him to detach himself from your core. His lips are glossy with your juices as he looks up at you.

"did I do well?"

"yeah... so well..." you say, still breathless. "my good puppy..."

His eyes sparkle at your words of affirmation. He lunges towards you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He starts to unbutton his uniform while the your lips are still connected.

"what are you doing?" you ask bewildered when you break away from him.

"you won't leave your puppy like this, right?" he says referring to the massive tent in his uniform pants. Before you can answer, your back is pushed against the bed and he's hovering over you, dog tags brushing over your collar bones.

"and we'll get you more underwear tomorrow, I promise..."

(( thank you @mcdepressed290 for the prompt! it's not very good but I actually really enjoyed writing a more subby caleb! my degradation skills definitely need some work though...))

#caleb #caleb x mc #lads #lads caleb #lnds caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb smut #calebmc #lads smut #lnds smut #xia yizhou smut #xia yizhou

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aleksatia · 3 months ago

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🧡Caleb - Five Years Later

The third in a series of stories exploring MC’s return after five years of silence. Others are coming soon — links will be added as they’re published.

Original ask that sparked this continuation.

Sylus | Rafayel | Zayne | Xavier (coming soon)

CW/TW: Grief / Loss of a loved one, Terminal illness, PTSD themes, Emotional trauma, Mentions of death / implied past death, Medical procedures / hospitals, Restraints (medical context), Panic attacks / nightmares, confinement / loss of agency, Non-consensual medical intervention, Self-worth / guilt issues, Power imbalance (emotional), Non-graphic violence, Brief medical body horror, Touch-starvation / intimacy after trauma, Bittersweet tone, heavy emotional intensity, Hope & love, but not always soft

Pairing: Caleb x former partner!you Genre: Sci-fi drama, heartbreak and healing, soul-deep devotion. Heavy on angst, soft on reunion. Enemies to… something more broken and beautiful. MC Context: You disappeared five years ago. He never forgave you. Now you’re back — with a secret that’s killing you slowly. Summary: Admiral Caleb was forged in war and tempered by loss — and you were the one wound that never healed. When fate throws you back into his orbit, neither of you are ready for what resurfaces. Letters, graves, rain-soaked rooftops, and the love that refuses to die quietly. Word Count: 8.4K — stand-alone… for now. 🥀 This story was loosely inspired by Caleb’s latest Myth. Just a touch of that vibe, y’know?

Author’s Note: Okay, full confession — I cried from the first word to the very last. Maybe it’s just me (I’ll admit, Caleb is my soft spot). Or maybe… it just hit something. Either way, I’d love to hear what you think.

The anniversary of Josephine’s death — and Caleb’s own — landed squarely on an unscheduled visit to Lincon City.

The admiral rarely returned. Not unless duty bared its teeth and dragged him back. Too painful. Too empty. The wounds too fresh, even now.

He had once been Colonel Caleb of the Farspace Fleet. Now, promoted to the soulless rank of Admiral, he moved like a ghost through corridors lined with medals and silence. But today… something clawed at him. A compulsion. A tremor from a buried place.

He bought lupines. Tall, excessive, dignified in a way grief never is. The kind you buy for someone who will never see them. And then he walked — alone — to the cemetery.

He had only been here once before. With you.

Josephine’s grave was strangely well-tended. No weeds. Edged clean. A vase of pink lilies — fresh, impossibly so — sat nestled against the stone like someone had just set them down and whispered something soft and final. Her favorite flowers. He remembered.

His first thought: the groundskeepers. Maybe the city did something for the dead on anniversaries. Some quiet bureaucratic kindness. But that didn’t explain the lilies. How would they know?

His eyes scanned the black headstone. “Josephine,” carved in solemn, obedient serif. A name, a dash, two dates, and silence. His grandmother. Gone six years.

She hadn’t died of age. The blast had taken her.

But you — you were different.

Five years. Five years since you vanished. Gone not like a candle snuffed, but like smoke ripped from the air.

He had never accepted it. Not really. Some part of him believed you were taken. That you had been forced to go.

Because the truth — the one that stared back at him in sleepless nights and shattered mirrors — was that you did leave. You walked away. No message. No farewell. Just absence.

The storm was building in the clouds above, heavy and low like judgment. Thunder sat unspoken just beyond the hills, crouching. Caleb stood still, arms at his sides, as the sky thickened.

Why?

It was a question that never left. A question with a thousand answers. Each one sharper than the last.

The scent of wet earth rose in the air. Ozone, crackling like something electric and cruel. His hand twitched toward his wristwatch. He was due back. His itinerary was brutal. The war waited for no one — not even the grieving.

He knelt, placed the bouquet down with the softness of ritual. A last gesture. A futile offering.

Then his eyes drifted. To his own gravestone.

There it was. Cold. Familiar. His name, etched beneath hers, waiting for its second date.

And something else. A white envelope.

Untouched by time. Unsullied by rain or rot. Resting gently, like it had grown there.

His breath caught.

The lilies. The letter. The impossible coincidence.

Then the first drop hit — heavy, warm — against his cheek. A second, on the envelope. Then more.

Drip. Drip-drip. Drip— Draaip.

The kind of rain that doesn’t fall, but descends. Like judgment. Like memory.

Caleb stepped forward. One foot. Then another. His boots sank slightly into the earth, as if the ground resisted.

He reached out — hands trembling, trembling — like the time he pulled an FS-90 out of a death spiral back at the Academy, nose brushing the snow-capped ridges of the mountains peaks.

He lifted the envelope. It was light. Too light. But on it — one word, scrawled in handwriting he knew too well.

Caleb.

Nothing more.

He shoved it into the inner pocket of his uniform, as though it were explosive. As though it might burn through the fabric and into his chest.

And just like that — as if spurred by some instinct he couldn't name — he turned on his heel and walked fast, too fast, back toward the car.

His heart didn’t race. It pounded.

Like thunder.

The drive to the airfield felt like a lifetime, though the roads were mercifully clear. No evening traffic, no pointless delays. The driver, attuned to the admiral’s mood, pressed hard on the accelerator, but still — Caleb tapped his fingers against the armrest with restless urgency, the motion sharp and impatient.

The envelope continued to burn in his chest.

Rain traced thick, winding rivers down the window, a slow, rhythmic descent like tears he never shed for you. When you left, it wasn’t just his heart that broke. It was his soul, his body, his being. Everything cracked and caved inward — except his eyes. Those remained stubbornly dry.

Now, though… he was close. And that made him angry.

Furious, even.

It infuriated him that just as he had begun to stitch some version of his life back together — a life without you, without your voice, your touch, your name — you reappeared. Like a ghost. Too close to ignore, too far to hold.

If you had wanted to return, you would have come back. Not like this. Not through riddles and shadows and silence. You would’ve stood at his door, or on a tarmac, or behind him in some briefing room like the world hadn’t ended. And he — damn him — he would have forgiven you. Instantly. Because that’s who he was. That’s what you had always counted on.

And that was what made him want to scream.

He didn’t want to forgive. He didn’t want to read your damned letter, to parse your reasons, your pleas, your desperate little words asking to be understood.

He didn’t want to analyze your cruelty. He didn’t want to empathize with it.

For the first time in five years, Caleb felt like he could finally, truly erase you. Not forget — never forget — but cut you out like rot. And live with the absence.

The letter pressed against his chest like a bullet. He placed his palm over it, broad and unsteady, as though trying to keep it from puncturing skin. As if it hadn’t already pierced him, deep and final.

The only sane choice would be to throw it out the window. Let the wind take it, let the rain dissolve it, let the world carry it into the dark.

Maybe you hadn’t even meant for him to find it. Maybe this was a confession to no one. A whisper into the void. Maybe it wasn’t meant for him at all — just for yourself.

To ease the weight.

To breathe again.

Selfish.

Selfish to write it. Selfish to hope for release, when he was still walking in agony, flesh and blood wrapped around something broken.

He didn’t want you to breathe.

He didn’t want you to be free of the pain, not when he was still wearing it — every day, every night, every silence between heartbeats.

How dare you write to him?

It was beneath an admiral to take the controls.

But today, Caleb didn’t care.

Protocol could burn. Chain of command, procedure, rank — all of it. He needed to feel the illusion of control again, even if it came in the form of a military jet barely older than some of the crew still stationed on the tarmac.

He didn’t ask the pilots to stand down. He ordered them. One glance at his face, and none of them argued.

The rain was steady now, carving grooves into the tarmac like old scars. The cockpit smelled of steel, vinyl, and cold systems spinning up to life.

Caleb slid into the pilot’s seat. No ceremony. No reverence. Just quiet, deliberate motion. The envelope — that stupid, unbearable envelope — landed in the co-pilot’s seat like a stone slab. Heavy enough, he thought, to drag the aircraft down with him.

And maybe that would’ve been for the best.

He ran the preflight checks by muscle memory.

Fuel quantity. Sufficient. Confirmed crossfeed valve closed.

Hydraulic pressure. Green. Full.

Flight controls. Surfaces free and correct — elevator, rudder, ailerons.

Navigation systems. Online. INS aligned. No drift.

Avionics. Check.

Oxygen. Flow normal, regulators armed.

Engine start. Ignition armed. Starter sequence began. One engine, then the second — turbines spun up with that low whine that sounded too much like a scream if you listened the wrong way.

He couldn’t breathe. But he was going through the motions.

Flight clearance received. Tower approved for immediate departure.

The jet eased down the taxiway, engines rumbling like restrained violence beneath him. His hands on the throttle were steady. Too steady.

Takeoff checklist. Flaps set. Trim neutral. Brakes released.

He pushed the throttles forward.

The aircraft responded like it wanted to run. Acceleration pressed him back into the seat. Rain lashed the windscreen. The moment the wheels left the tarmac, the ache in his chest twisted tighter.

There. He was airborne.

And it didn’t help. Not like it used to.

Altitude climbed. Ten thousand. Twenty. Forty. Cruising.

He stabilized at 37,000 feet and did something he almost never allowed himself: he engaged the autopilot.

The moment the system took over, he tore off the harness with a sharp, frustrated motion. The metal buckle clattered against the seat.

His hand reached for the envelope.

It was still warm from being pressed to his chest. He turned it over in his fingers, letting the edge bite into his skin. He very nearly tore it in half.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he broke the seal, carefully, precisely — like disarming a mine.

And there it was. That handwriting. Your handwriting.

Messy. Crooked. Rushed. Impatient. Every letter a little too hard, as though you’d nearly punctured the page. You had always gripped your pen like it was the only thing anchoring you to the world. You hadn’t changed.

For a long moment, Caleb didn’t read. He just stared at the shapes of the words. The loops and slants. Like he was watching you from the other side of interrogation glass — close enough to touch, unreachable all the same.

And then he started.

Once. Again. A third time.

Each pass scraped deeper, like reading the report of his own autopsy.

His hand trembled. He didn’t even realize he was breathing too fast until the cockpit hissed a low-pressure warning. He ignored it.

He slammed the harness back across his chest and keyed the comms.

“Control, this is Delta-Two-Alpha requesting vector for immediate return.”

There was a pause.

“…Confirm that, Delta-Two-Alpha. Reason for return?”

He took the yoke again, flicked autopilot disengage with a sharp tap. The jet jerked slightly, now fully under his hand.

“Command directive,” he said flatly.

Another pause.

“Understood. Return approved. You’re clear for turn on heading zero-one-five.”

Caleb didn’t wait. He threw the aircraft into a steep bank, cutting through the clouds like a blade.

He knew where to find you. He had known before he stepped into the cockpit. He had known standing at the grave, the envelope still untouched.

But he hadn’t wanted to find you then.

Now?

Now he didn’t have a choice.

The viewing deck of the Linkon TV Tower was nearly empty.

Closing time was drawing near, but the rain had chased away what few tourists and visitors remained. You stood at the railing in a long lavender raincoat, hood pulled deep over your head. The fabric clung to your arms and back, soaked through. Your sneakers were long past wet, the chill of the concrete seeping into your bones. But you didn’t move. Didn’t shift. As if the weather had pinned you here in time, or maybe memory had.

The city below had disappeared — swallowed by fog, by stormclouds, by everything that refused to be seen. No headlights, no stars. Just the endless roar of rain and the cold sting of being the last one left.

Your fingers rested lightly on the metal bar. Your eyes were turned upward, into the vast nothing. Watching clouds drift across an invisible sky. You might have stood there till morning, if not for the footsteps behind you.

Slow. Measured. Not security. Too quiet.

“I would give a lot to know what you’re thinking right now,” said a voice too worn to belong to the man you once loved.

You turned slowly.

Caleb stood a few paces away, still in uniform. The rain hadn’t spared him. His hair was damp, the shoulders of his coat dark with water. But he stood like the storm couldn’t touch him. Like it wouldn’t dare.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” you said.

“I almost didn’t.”

You smiled — not from joy, but from pain that needed a face.

“I thought maybe you’d moved on by now,” you said. “Married. Found peace.”

“I’m not built for peace,” he said flatly.

“No,” you murmured, “you weren’t. But I hoped... maybe you’d become someone who was.”

He took a step forward, his boots clicking against the wet metal. “You hoped I’d forget you.”

“I hoped you’d survive me.”

The words hit. You saw it — the smallest shift in his jaw, the flicker in his eyes. But his voice stayed calm.

“You knew I wouldn’t.”

You didn’t deny it.

“I wrote the letter because I needed to say it. Not because I thought you'd ever read it.”

“You didn’t want me to.”

You hesitated. “No.”

“Then why leave it where I’d find it?”

Another silence. Then: “Because I wanted to believe you wouldn’t come.”

Caleb’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened. The air between you grew tighter, like a pressure drop before impact.

“I read it,” he said.

Your breath caught. “I know.”

“I know everything now.”

You nodded.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t accuse. But his voice was a blade dragged slowly across flesh.

“You could’ve told me. You could’ve stayed.”

“I couldn’t breathe, Caleb.” You didn’t mean to say it out loud — but the truth had a weight of its own. “You loved me like I was something to guard. Not someone to hold.”

“I was trying to keep you safe.”

“And I was trying to live.”

His lips parted, as if to argue — but nothing came. Because you both knew: you were right. And so was he.

You took a step closer, rain dripping from your sleeves.

“I didn’t want you to be there when it started. I didn’t want you to watch me fade.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s too late.”

Caleb looked at you like you were a puzzle he used to know how to solve. Like something once sacred that had rewritten itself in a language he couldn’t read.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” you said.

“Good.”

Your breath hitched — not from the cruelty of it, but from the honesty.

“I just wanted to see you again,” you whispered. “Once. Before...”

You didn’t finish. You didn’t need to.

He stepped closer. This time, the space between you nearly vanished. But he didn’t reach out.

“You always ran when it got quiet,” he said.

“And you never let anything rest.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I hated you,” he said, voice rough. “For five years, I hated you for leaving. For taking my soul with you and vanishing into nothing.”

You closed your eyes.

“And now?”

He hesitated.

Then: “Now I just hate that there’s nothing left to save.”

The rain didn’t stop. Neither of you moved.

But something broke, quietly — not between you, but inside you both.

And maybe that was the beginning.

Or the end.

He stepped closer. Not to you — no. To the railing.

Leaning casually, almost carelessly, over the edge, he stared down into the city’s abyss. The lights below were blurred by fog, rain, and altitude — a slow-motion fall into nothingness. Even resting like that, shoulders relaxed, head tilted slightly as he looked down, Caleb seemed impossibly distant. Removed.

Admiral.

Not just a rank anymore. Not a role. It had consumed him — the strictness, the cold efficiency, the discipline etched into every movement. He was the title now. All calculation, no softness. All control, no warmth. A man weaponized by grief, then sanctified by command.

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” you asked quietly, your voice fragile, almost drowned out by the rain.

He didn’t answer at first.

You studied his face — the years had been merciful to him in the way they only are to men shaped by war. Just over thirty. A trace of silver at the temples. Skin clean-shaven, jaw locked, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.

He looked like marble come alive. Cold, perfect, untouchable.

You wanted to reach out. Just to touch his face. To feel warmth. To remind yourself he was still made of skin, not armor.

“We saved a lot of people that day,” you added, almost to fill the silence. “From Wanderer.”

“I remember,” he said, his voice low. “On the train ride here, you fell asleep on my shoulder. There was some romantic song playing on loop — too sweet to ever be real.”

You smiled, barely. It hurt. “Caleb… would you still do it now? Jump like that? Into the void. As if death is something you can bargain with. Something you can command to pause.”

He tilted his head, still watching the city below.

“I can stop a fall. I can control flight paths. Bend gravity to my will. But not death. If I could…” He paused. His voice dropped lower, quieter. “I wouldn’t be here.”

When he turned to you, the change was surgical. A full turn of his body, attention locked on yours. His eyes scanned your face with precision, not feeling.

He looked at you like he was trying to remember.

Like five years had burned away not just the love, but the memory of it.

“Tell me,” he said, “do you think I’ll be able to save you this time?”

The question landed like a shard of ice in your spine. You flinched — not visibly, but inside, where it counted.

There was something wrong in his voice. Not anger. Not desperation. Just… wrong. Like he was rehearsing something he didn’t understand.

“I’m not asking you to save me,” you said. “I never wanted that. I never wanted to be your project. Your fragile rose behind glass — something that, if shattered, would take your whole world with it.”

He didn’t reply. But he looked away. Not down. Not up. Just… away.

And then — a sound behind you.

A door creaked. Footsteps, hesitant. The voice of someone too young, too aware.

“I— I’m sorry— sir— admiral— I didn’t— The tower’s closed, I—” The poor security guard stumbled over every word as he recognized the face that had appeared in military reports, field briefings, and news feeds. The ghost in the sky. The man who never fell.

Caleb turned slightly toward him, not quite sighing — more like resetting.

“Where are you staying?”

You blinked. “Caleb—”

He raised a hand, not unkindly, but final.

“Where.”

You swallowed. “The Midland Motel. Down by the shuttle terminal.”

He said nothing, just nodded once and began walking. You followed.

You knew you shouldn’t. But you were too tired to argue. Too wet, too cold, too broken.

He didn’t offer his coat. Didn’t say a word. Just pressed the call button for the lift and waited in silence.

The car ride was quiet. The city blurred past in gray, streaked neon. His vehicle — black, sleek, military grade but dressed as civilian — moved like a shadow through the storm.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t speak.

You kept your arms wrapped around yourself in the damp raincoat, your soaked sleeves sticking to your skin.

He brought you to a hotel you didn’t recognize. Modern, expensive, silent. The kind of place that smells like clean money and consequence.

At the front desk, he handed over a card — no hesitation — and said, “One bedroom suite. Highest floor. Immediate check-in.”

No questions asked.

The elevator ride was wordless. The carpet muffled your wet shoes.

He opened the door. The lights came on softly. Beige walls, minimalist decor, glass and brushed steel. Tasteful. Lifeless.

He handed you a folded robe from the closet. “Bathroom’s through there,” he said. “Go shower. I’ll order food.”

You took the robe with slow hands, staring at it for a moment too long.

Then, wordlessly, you turned and walked into the bathroom. The door closed with a quiet click behind you.

Warmth. Dry tile. A mirror.

And, for just a moment — silence.The kind that wraps around you like grief you haven’t cried yet.

The robe was too large. Too soft. Too warm.

You could have wrapped it around yourself three times and still gotten lost in it.

On the small round table near the panoramic window, a meal waited. Caleb hadn’t bothered to order anything you used to love. He remembered, of course — that was never the issue. He simply hadn’t tried. The selection was closer to a field ration than a dinner: high protein, complex carbs, dense fats. Efficient. Precise.

You weren’t hungry. You hadn’t been for a long time.

He’d removed the jacket of his uniform, now down to a crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. And still, something in the room made it feel wrong to sit without permission. He didn’t even look at you — just gave a practiced gesture toward the chair.

You sat on the very edge of it.

Your gaze lingered on the veins in his forearms, raised and defined — marks of control, of command. Of power. Hands that once cradled you through entire nights, hands that had trembled against your skin as if you were the only thing in the world keeping him human.

Now, all of it felt like a dream.

You broke off a piece of warm bread. Turned toward the rain outside. Watched the world bleed behind the glass.

“Did you see a doctor?” he asked.

Not worry. Not fear. Just curiosity. Clinical, detached. A data point to confirm.

You shrugged slowly. “Yeah. Dr. Zane was the first. Then came the rest.”

“And he didn’t tell me anything?”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” you said. “I asked him not to.”

“So I wasn’t worthy of the truth?”

You exhaled — sharp and stung, like you’d been slapped. “Caleb… do I really have to explain this? I was trying to spare you the pain.”

He laughed. Cold. Harsh. Suffocating.

The room, already dim, felt darker suddenly. As though the lights had dimmed in reverence to his bitterness.

“Spare me? Oh, brilliant. You really did a hell of a job. I didn’t suffer at all. You disappeared and I just breathed a sigh of relief, right? Out of sight, out of mind — that’s what you think?”

“It’s not the same.”

He slammed a fist down on the table. Plates jumped. Glass cracked under his hand.

“If you had died in my arms, at least I would’ve known. I would’ve known you didn’t leave because I wasn’t enough. Because I loved you too hard, too deep, too much. I would’ve known you had no choice.”

“You wouldn’t have let me die in peace!” you shot back, voice rising. “You would’ve torn the damn planet apart looking for a cure. You would’ve ripped through every system, Farspace tunnel, shouting that it’s almost over, that we’re so close, just hold on—”

He stared at you. Unblinking. Breathing slow.

The storm inside him didn’t explode. It collapsed, inward — contained by the vice grip of discipline. Of rank.

“If loving you with everything I had — completely, recklessly, overwhelmingly — was a crime…” His voice was low now. Not soft. Deadly. “Then yes. I’m guilty. You pronounced the sentence without a trial, Pip-squeak. And I served it. Five years, no parole.”

He stood, pushing away the untouched plate. The chair didn’t scrape. It moved like a blade being sheathed.

“But let me tell you something.” He turned his gaze on you like ice hardening in place. “Love, when betrayed and ground into dust, doesn’t always fade. Sometimes… it turns into contempt.”

The word hit like a slap across the soul.

You couldn’t speak. Your breath stalled in your throat.

“Eat something,” he said. “And get some rest.”

“And you—?”

“I have too much work to babysit you.”

“I don’t want to stay here!”

He paused by the door. Turned half toward you — not enough to be kind.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he said. “Because I do. Sorry, sweetheart, but tonight? You don’t get a choice. I may be, as you so astutely pointed out, a cold-hearted bastard — but even now, I can’t let you wander the streets in wet clothes, racing to meet your own end.”

With that, he slid back into his uniform jacket in one fluid, dismissive motion and stepped out.

The door closed behind him with mechanical precision. The lock flashed red. Like a warning.

Your only way out now was through the window.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

Most likely, you just shut down — the body giving out where the soul had already emptied. There were no tears. No breakdown. Just the vast, aching silence of being done. As if the last thread tethering you to this world had snapped soundlessly in the night.

Caleb had been the only family you ever had. He didn’t want to be your partner anymore — that, at least, made sense. But now he didn’t even want to be your brother. Not your anchor. Not your history.

He had become a stranger. And you had made him that.

You had no one to blame. No one to curse. The damage had your fingerprints all over it — deliberate, cruel, irreversible.

You regretted it. You knew it was a mistake.

But what could you do now?

Five years ago, you walked away — selfishly, completely — leaving him alone with the bleeding wreckage of his own love. And you hadn't spared yourself either. You’d just taken the pain and buried it, hoping time would do what courage couldn’t.

And now, with the same selfish silence, you had come back. Uninvited. Unexplained. Unhealed. You didn’t know what you’d hoped for — redemption, maybe. A flicker of warmth. Or just… recognition.

But instead, you lit the same fuse all over again.

You knew, even before boarding the train, that he’d find you. Even if he wasn’t looking. Even if he didn’t want to.

And still — you came.

The knock at the door startled you. You shot up, heart hammering in your throat.

Room service? Caleb? No. Caleb wouldn’t knock.

A second later, the door’s lock blinked with coded lights, and a young man in a tailored aide’s uniform stepped in. He was polite enough to knock. But not enough to wait for a response.

Not Liam. Someone much younger.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said with crisp formality, almost saluting before catching himself.

He tried — really tried — to keep his gaze level, but you could see the questions in his eyes. He didn’t know who you were, why you were important, or why the Admiral had seen fit to personally house you in a suite normally reserved for political dignitaries.

“I was ordered to bring you a change of clothes and arrange breakfast,” he said. “Admiral Caleb instructed me to return in thirty minutes and escort you to the hospital.”

You blinked. “Tell the Admiral that’s unnecessary.”

The aide offered a tight, apologetic smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “He also told me to inform you that, if you refuse to come voluntarily, I’m authorized to use force.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

You swallowed, fighting the wave of humiliation. Of course he would go this far. You shouldn’t be surprised. And yet, it burned.

“I see,” you said quietly. “Then I’ll just have coffee.”

The aide hesitated. “Ma’am—”

“You’re not going to shove breakfast down my throat, are you?” you snapped, sharper than intended. “Fine. For the sake of compromise — coffee. And a yogurt. That’s it, Lieutenant.”

He nodded with practiced obedience. “Yes, ma’am.”

And then he left, leaving you alone with your rage and your helplessness.

The coffee tasted bitter. The yogurt was sour. Your taste buds had changed — everything had. Food had stopped being pleasure long ago. It was fuel now, nothing more. You absorbed calories. Not flavor.

Another memory — gone. Another joy stripped from a life grown colorless. Another piece of yourself you hadn’t noticed was missing… until Caleb reminded you it was never coming back.

Some part of you expected they'd take you to Akso Hospital.

It would’ve made sense. Zayne knew your case better than anyone — your body, your history, the long and winding ruins of your health. But Caleb didn’t trust him anymore. Not enough to put your life in his hands.

Zayne had already failed him once — by keeping your secret.

Instead, they brought you to an unfamiliar place. Private, sterile, quiet. Too many white walls. Too much controlled light.

Caleb was already there, standing in the center of a vast conference room surrounded by doctors in crisp lab coats.

Even without a word, he commanded the space. In uniform, he looked taller than any of them. Broader. More permanent. Even the chief physician seemed to defer to him instinctively, as though gravity itself bent slightly in his direction.

You paused in the doorway, watching the way their attention latched to him — every word, every breath, every small flick of his hand. He wasn’t just giving orders. He was delivering truth.

And it made your blood boil.

With silent, focused fury, you crossed the room. Stopped too close. Closer than decorum allowed. Closer than memory permitted.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

“You’re doing exactly what I was afraid of,” you hissed, voice low and sharp, aimed straight at his throat. “I’m not a lab rat. I’m not your property. You don’t get to manage me. I have a right to my own choices.”

He looked you over slowly, without shame or apology — from your scuffed shoes to the oversized hoodie and jeans that hung loose on your frame. He’d remembered your size, but even so, they fit like clothes left behind by a body that used to be stronger.

“Fine,” he said simply. “You can leave.”

You blinked. Taken aback. Then pivoted sharply. “And I will.”

“Just know,” he said, his voice still maddeningly calm, “if you stay — I’ll stay too. If you stop running, you’ll have the chance… to live what time you have left not alone. Not in silence.”

You froze.

One breath. Another.

Your shoulders sagged. The sharpness in your spine dulled. And slowly, you turned back to him.

His face hadn’t changed. That same cold mask. Not unkind — just unreadable.

“You’d stay?” you asked, barely audible.

He exhaled, finally. A quiet thing. His fingers brushed the edge of a metallic button on his uniform — a nervous tic, barely there.

“We were family once,” he said softly. “No one should die alone.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if to answer — but no words came.

There was no sentiment in his voice. No drama. No heartbreak. Just a statement of fact.

Death wasn’t something that scared him. It was a language he knew fluently — one he had spoken too many times, in too many places, across too many battlefields. He’d seen it. Worn it. Come back from it.

Even now, he didn’t flinch from yours.

It was just another ending. Another line of code. A final set of coordinates.

No pleading. No shaking. No denial.

And somehow — that was exactly what you needed. Not mercy. Not hope. Just someone to stay.

For once, it didn’t matter what you deserved. It mattered that you weren’t alone in this room. Not anymore.

The carousel of tests spun you until nightfall.

Scanners, probes, bloodwork, neurological assessments — round after round until your skin felt bruised from inside out. You were growing irritable, frayed at the seams, more from the dread than the procedures themselves.

They weren’t just gathering data. They were preparing to keep you here. Not for a night. Not even for a week. You could feel it — that low hum of administrative inevitability, ready to steal your time in the name of preservation.

You hadn’t even tied the hospital robe back around your chest when the door hissed open again.

“Oh, do come in. Why not take a piece of my liver while you’re at it?” you snapped, not bothering to turn.

“Your liver’s fine,” came the reply.

Of course. Caleb.

You turned too fast — too defensively — forgetting the robe was still gaping open. Not exposing skin, no. That wasn’t the issue.

It was the mark.

A thick, black web, raised and pulsing, spidered across your chest, the origin rooted deep in the center — where the Aethor Core was housed. Where power should have blossomed. Where your strength was supposed to live.

But it didn’t pulse with life. It cracked. You were coming apart, slowly, precisely, down the middle. Left from right. Light from shadow. Every beat of your heart was a fracture.

You covered your chest too late. He had seen.

He approached, unhurried. Unstoppable. The kind of step he used when nothing in the world could change his mind.

He pulled off one glove with a smooth, practiced motion and pressed his palm to the place where the damage burned hottest.

Right over your heart. Where it splintered loudest.

You closed your eyes. Pain hit like a detonator — sharp, white-hot, cellular. Like a memory of impact. A blade. A bomb. A scream that had never been given voice.

“At any moment,” you whispered, answering the question he hadn’t asked.

He nodded. No surprise. He already knew.

He knew what the Evol had become. That your body couldn’t carry what it was never designed to hold. That the Core — meant to empower — was now the source of slow, elegant devastation.

He knew you were made of chaos. Born to fracture. Destined to burn.

You, who had broken him. And so many others in your wake. Your love had never healed. It had only bled slower.

He didn’t flinch.

He pulled away from your chest, reached for the t-shirt folded over the back of the chair, and helped you slip into it. His touch was clinical. Gentle. Resigned.

Not cold. Not warm. Just necessary.

You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat. It didn’t move.

“Come on,” he said, voice suddenly softer. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “More tests?”

“No. There's a fair. In our old district. Crowds, noise. Bad music. Terrible food.”

You snorted — just once — but held back the gallows humor itching to spill from your lips. Too early for jokes about death-day parades.

“All right,” you murmured. Pulled your hoodie over your head. Slipped on your sneakers.

You bent to tie the laces, but before your fingers reached them, Caleb was already kneeling before you.

Kneeling.

Your breath hitched.

Just like back then. Just like a lifetime ago.

You shifted your weight awkwardly, as if the floor had gone uneven beneath your feet. The moment was too intimate. Too real.

“An Admiral tying shoelaces,” you said with a weak smirk. “Now that’s more paradoxical than the Colonel ever was.”

He looked up at you. Fingers tightening the knot. A ghost of a smile pulled at his mouth — brief, boyish, and so devastatingly familiar it made your chest ache.

“Let’s agree I outrank your dignity today,” he murmured. “Don’t make me invoke protocol Alpha-Pip-Squeak.”

At some point, it started to feel like time had folded in on itself.

The sounds, the smells, the fireworks, the shrieking laughter of children, the curling smoke from endless food stalls — it all swirled into a surreal kaleidoscope of celebration. A world too alive.

Too bright.

It felt wrong. Your heart was failing, slowly betraying you, yet the world kept spinning, singing, dancing without hesitation.

At first, it stung. The unfairness of it. The cruelty.

You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to vanish into memory.

You had dreamt of children — your children — running through crowds with cotton candy bigger than their faces, covered in chocolate and ice cream. You used to see your future so clearly: a wide house with a garden and a swingset, and somewhere up in the attic, a claw machine you’d insisted on installing, turning the whole floor into a chaotic arcade.

Your eyes filled with tears.

You blinked them away, catching Caleb watching you. You smiled.

“Smoke,” you murmured. “Got in my eyes.”

He nodded. Didn’t believe you, but let you have it.

He wasn’t wearing his Admiral’s uniform anymore. Jeans. A T-shirt with a stupid graphic. A jacket. A cap. He looked familiar. Almost close. Almost yours.

You walked slowly, shoulders brushing occasionally, hands near but never touching. Neither of you tried to bridge the gap. It would’ve felt dishonest. And you were grateful for that honesty. Even if it hurt.

You took a few shots at the game booths. Your hands still remembered. When you won an oversized plush flamingo, you handed it to a girl with bright red ribbons in her pigtails. She couldn’t have been more than six.

You asked her name. Rolled it around on your tongue. You could’ve named a daughter that.

Caleb noticed when your steps started to falter. Without a word, he led you toward an empty table at the edge of the crowd.

While he went for food, you let yourself sink back into the chair, exhaustion tugging hard at your spine. Your eyelids fluttered, but you refused to let sleep steal this. This might not be happiness, but it wasn’t pain.

And that was enough.

He came back with a platter full of street food. You wouldn’t taste much of it. But you remembered. You knew. And for now, that was enough, too.

“It’s a clear night,” he said. “Wanna ride the Ferris wheel?”

You nodded. You’d say yes to anything that would delay the return to sterile rooms, to IV drips and ticking clocks.

The cabin swayed gently as it rose. Wind cooled your cheeks, carrying away the stubborn tears that kept threatening to fall. But you wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t let grief ruin this night.

“Are you still angry?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you still… hate me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

His gaze drifted over the glowing chaos below, where lights bled together into a gold-and-rainbow puddle of motion and life.

“No,” he said at last. “And I never did.”

He turned toward you, reached up, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I said it in anger. I was too furious to mean it.”

“I deserved it.”

“You deserved my anger,” he agreed. “But not this. Not a slow, painful fade. Not the kind of desperation that makes you choose impossible things.”

“Caleb…” your voice cracked. “Please… don’t say goodbye yet. It’s not time.”

“I’m trying to be honest,” he murmured. His eyes dropped to your hands, folded like a small prayer in your lap. He looked like he wanted to reach for them — but didn’t. “I’ve learned what hiding the truth from the people you love can cost.”

You swallowed. “I’m… still someone you love?”

He nodded, steady. “There’s no one closer.”

“Then promise me—”

“No.” The word was sharp. Too fast. Too raw.

“No,” he repeated. “I won’t even try.”

“But you could be happy again. If you let yourself open up—”

“Could you?” he cut in. “Could you promise that if I go first, you’ll find someone else? That you’ll love another man? Hold his hand, kiss him, like I never existed?”

Your answer was immediate.

“No.”

Too quick. Too honest.

And he knew. You both did.

Whatever tied you together was deeper than flesh, deeper than time. You could peel away the skin, erase the past, burn the memories— but your soul would still reach for his in the dark.

And his would still be holding on. Waiting.

Until the next life.

He didn’t take you back to the hospital.

By now, he knew what you had understood five years ago. It was pointless. There was no cure.

You lowered yourself carefully onto the bed, curled up on your side. You looked at him — just a silhouette in the dark, and still somehow larger than life.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered.

He didn’t hesitate.

He slipped off his jacket, climbed in beside you. Didn’t touch. Just lay there — facing you.

You stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. Until they closed on their own. Until sleep claimed you.

And the nightmare followed.

The same one, always the same — your body splitting apart, bones breaking under pressure, your chest tearing open as the Core rejected you, gave birth to a creature that looked almost like you. But not you.

Black. Cold. Merciless.

Your body left behind, hollow — a deflated skin, a costume discarded.

You screamed. But you didn’t wake.

You thrashed, fighting against the blanket, clawing at your chest, trying to force the monster back inside, back into the dark where it belonged.

Hands. Strong, steady, familiar.

They caught you. Held you. Rocked you.

Lips brushed your temple. Words — soft, foreign — spoken in a language your heart remembered even if your ears couldn’t make them out.

“No… please…”

Caleb held you like a child, pressing your face against his chest.

Tears — hot, fast — fell onto your cheeks. Not yours.

His.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You hear me? You’re not alone. I’m right here. I’m not leaving. I swear to God, I’m not letting go. Come back to me. Please, come back…”

“Caleb…”

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” His arms tightened, anchoring you in place.

“I’m so scared,” you whispered, fragile.

“I know, Pip. I know.” His voice cracked — raw, guttural. “I’ll take it all. All the pain. I’ll kill every monster in your path. I’ll tear down the night itself. Just say the word, and I’ll burn this world to the ground to bring you peace.”

“I love you…” The words came with sobs now, spilling out, no longer held back.

His lips kissed your forehead. Your temple. Your cheeks.

“And I love you. My girl. My sunshine. My joy. My… Pip-Squeak.”

“I’m sorry I stole this time from us.”

He shook his head, still holding you like you might slip through his fingers.

“I forgave you a long time ago. How could I not forgive you? God, how could I ever stay mad at you? I’ll be here, right here, until your very last breath.”

He kept whispering. Murmuring softness into your hair. As if the five years of agony had never happened.

As if you’d never left.

And slowly, gently, you drifted back into sleep. Held in his arms. Wrapped in his warmth. In his love.

With one thought cradling your soul: If the universe is kind — let me go like this. Let me go in his arms. Let me go loved.

All morning, Caleb didn’t let go of you.

Like he was making up for every moment of distance, he kept touching you — a fleeting kiss, a gentle brush of fingers, little gestures wrapped in warmth and care that tore your heart in half.

You didn’t want to let go of him either.

And when you loved each other, it wasn’t just love — it was desperation.

Through trembling limbs, through broken breath and quiet cries, the pain poured out. The guilt. The fear.

It wasn’t sex. It was absolution.

Then he drove again.

Said he wanted to show you something. You didn’t look out the window. You looked at him. Held his hand. Silence said more than words ever could.

You only grew uneasy when the car pulled up in front of a building — far too official to be anything like a park or a gallery.

“Where are we?”

“It’s… a military lab,” he said, with a small, apologetic smile. Then he kissed you again. “Just need to drop in. Work.”

You followed him inside.

A narrow, impersonal room. Cold lighting. The air too clean.

Caleb gestured to a chair. You sat. He knelt next to you. Kissed you again — too gently. Too long. Something about it felt… wrong.

“I’m sorry, Pips,” he whispered. “I just… I can’t do nothing.”

“Caleb? What are you doing—?”

You saw the glint of metal. Just before the needle plunged into your artery.

“CALEB!”

“Even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I have to try. You have to live, baby.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him, to run — but your limbs turned to jelly.

You slumped into his arms. And everything went dark.

The lab was silent.

Sterile.

Lifeless.

Two rooms. One pane of glass between them — just wide enough for you not to miss a single second of the show.

You were strapped to a hospital bed. Wires trailing from your arms and chest. Your head throbbed.

Across the glass — Caleb.

“No. No, Caleb, stop! This is insane!”

Your voice cracked, but your chest— your chest was… light. The weight, the crushing pain — gone.

You began to thrash. The heart monitor shrieked in alarm.

You pulled at the restraints — raw, bloody skin tearing against metal cuffs.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t care.

Slippery with blood, your wrists finally slipped free — it felt like peeling flesh from bone.

You tore off the tubes. Fell from the bed.

Your legs wouldn’t hold you. So you crawled.

Crawled to the glass.

“CALEB!”

You slammed your fists against it, over and over again.

He lay on the other side — restrained. But the straps couldn’t hold the violent spasms. And the glass couldn’t muffle the sound of his screaming.

“CALEB! YOU PROMISED!”

You forced yourself upright, pounded your fists until your knuckles split open.

“You promised… you said you’d stay… you said you’d be there until my last breath— CALEB— !”

Your voice disintegrated into a scream.

You kept hammering. Like a moth caught in a jar, helplessly throwing itself against the cruel, unyielding glass.

Kept crying.

The door hissed open behind you. A man in a lab coat.

You lunged at him — knocked him flat. Ran.

Another body in the hallway — you shoved them aside.

You found the next door. Slammed your palm to the entry panel.

It opened.

“CALEB—!”

You collapsed onto him, draping your entire body over his, as if your weight alone could stop the process.

Black veins had begun to trace up his neck. The same pattern that once bloomed across your chest.

“How could you…?” Your voice broke into pieces. “You can’t leave me… you promised…”

For a moment, his eyes found yours. His hand twitched. Reached.

You seized it. Gripped tight.

Tried to unbuckle the straps.They didn’t give.

Hands grabbed you from behind. Dragged you.

You fought like a wild thing. Thrashed. Kicked. One of them fell — you crawled back to him.

Then two more came. You were screaming. Your throat raw.

“No! Don’t take him! DON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!”

And just before you could lunge forward again—

Another needle.

Your body gave out. Everything dimmed. Collapsed.

But even in that final, spiraling moment—

You whispered one last time: “Caleb… please… don’t leave me…”

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your heart hadn’t beaten this steady in years.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

It would’ve been better if it had stopped.

You didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t ask where you were. You knew.

You were in a world where he was gone.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You used to live with physical pain — you knew how to endure it. You knew how to die with it. You’d pictured your grave more than once — just beside the one marked “Josephine.”

The one where, for a time, they’d already carved “Caleb.” Now they’d just correct the second date. As if it had all been a clerical error.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Shut up,” you muttered, ripping the sensor from your finger.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.

The monitor whined in protest.

You clamped your hands over your ears, buried your head under the pillow.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“What the hell?!”

Another monitor?

You pulled the pillow away. Opened your eyes.

On the second cot, just a few feet away— Caleb.

Alive. Awake.

His monitor was singing the same rhythm. And on his lips — the hint of a smile.

“You bastard!”

You flung the pillow at him. He caught it.

“Did you mourn me?”

“That’s still pending! You—YOU!!! You took my Aethor Core?!”

You looked around for something else to throw. He raised his hands in surrender.

“Easy, Pip-Squeak. I didn’t take anything. Your precious Core is right where it belongs — in that merciless, vengeful little heart of yours.”

“I’m merciless? You made me believe you were—!”

You stopped.

Because you knew. God, you knew you would’ve done the same.

You slid off the cot carefully, clutching the IV stand for balance. Crossed the short distance to his bedside, testing each step. Sat down on the edge.

You reached for his hand. Fingers trembling, unsure. But the moment you touched him — he was warm.

Not fading. Not cold. Not gone.

Warm, alive, present.

And it shattered something inside you.

“You weren’t dying because of the Core itself,” he said gently. “It was the energy feedback loop. The Core stopped syncing with your biopattern. Basically, your system crashed, and the power cell started pulling directly from your heart to survive. Which, you know, kinda fatal.”

“So what… you swapped our batteries?”

“In layman’s terms — yes.”

“And that doesn’t kill you?”

“My protocore’s a lazy old tank,” he grinned. “It got a nice boost from yours. Just enough to last me, I think.”

“You swear that’s the truth?” you arched a skeptical brow.

“I do.” He reached up, hesitantly, brushing your cheek.

You didn’t pull away.

“I told you I’d take your pain.”

“And you also promised you’d stay with me till my last breath,” you whispered, lips nearly brushing his.

“And I intend to keep that promise,” he said, pulling you close and kissing you. “And if you try to run again, just so you know — I’ve got a year’s supply of those sedative syringes.”

You let out a small laugh, nudged him gently, then climbed onto his cot, curling into his side, head on his shoulder.

“I’ll keep that in mind in case you pull another stunt like that. Admiral.”

His arm slipped around your waist. His grin widened — softer, familiar. Like the old days. Like he was just your Caleb again.

“Well,” he said, “those are consequences I’m willing to accept.”

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

His heart beat stronger. And yours — yours found his rhythm. Matched it.

Perfectly. Just like always.

Because the truth was simple.

You couldn’t exist in a world where one of you was missing.

#love and deepspace #lads #lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #storytelling #fanfic #fanfiction #caleb #love and deepspace caleb #angst #Spotify

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starmocha · 5 months ago

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ok so I know we're all taken in by colonel caleb and his complexity and i'm enjoying all the smut (🙏🏻💕) but i'm looking at him and thinking about how he'd react if mc got pregnant 'cause in ny head he'd react like I think sylus would as in he'd shower her in kisses while crying but imagine him being scared of holding the baby because of his arm, terrified of hurting that tiny being but the second he holds them the fear goes away and he's planting kisses on the top of the baby's head 🥹😭

CRYING. SOBBING. YEARNING. Anon, if you've been around my blog long enough, I have mentioned numerous times how my 3-part Caleb breeding kink (and pregnancy) series will happen. With the recent revelation about his arm, I was reflecting on how to tackle this series with regards to Caleb's character. I hope his future memories will also deal with this more, so we can get a better understanding of the changes and his own mental state regarding it.

omg ok we all probably know by now I am weak to the Caleb thoughts, so...so...just a little snippet. Just a tiny short snippet...

Sweet Little You

She was safe. They were safe.

Caleb watched with relief as you slept peacefully, exhausted after the grueling 34 hours of labor. He had dedicated his whole life to keeping you safe, protect you from dangers and prevent you from ever feeling pain, but in those long, slow hours, he had felt so utterly helpless as he watched you braved through the tribulations of motherhood.

He knew you were strong, knew that you were more than capable, but it did not deter his innate desire to shelter you.

It had only been a few hours since the baby was born, he realized, as his large hand rested on your head, gently smoothing your hair. He could still see your tears, heard you crying as you poured all of your strength into delivering his baby. You had gripped his hand so tightly, and though that right hand of his could no longer feel anything, his heart still did, torn apart at every scream, every sob that passed your lips. He did his best to encourage you, reassured you that everything was going well, that soon you both would meet your little one.

He wasn’t sure if what he had said helped or not, but you had still held his hand, holding tight to him just like long ago when you two were little. Maybe you still needed him, still wanting to lean on him like you used to.

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, my darling.”

Caleb’s ears perked up, hearing the sudden quiet fussing of his newborn. He looked to the hospital bassinet placed close to your bed. The baby was starting to stir, waking up from a peaceful slumber.

He quickly moved closer, his paternal instinct kicking in. He bent down lower, his voice softer than normal. “Hey, hey there, little one,” he said, about to reach down for the baby, but he paused, worried.

The baby’s face scrunched up, its cries still soft, but steadily growing just a bit louder. Panic briefly passed Caleb’s features, suddenly unsure of his own ability as a father. He could hear you stirring behind him, but he didn’t want you to wake yet, knowing you still needed more rest. He pushed down his own feeling of anxiety, and he bent down again, gently scooping the baby up.

The baby was so small, he couldn’t help but think, being able to hold the baby within his two hands. He readjusted his hold, cradling the baby within his arms, and his heart felt like it was slowing in time, his breathing almost stilling entirely as it finally seemed to clicked in his mind that he was holding his baby. This little baby, conceived from the love between you and him, was now here, in his arms, and he could barely stifle the sob that almost wanted to escape, his heart suddenly overwhelmed with so many different emotions ranging from disbelief to amazement and finally profound, unconditional love.

The baby’s cries ceased, replaced by soft cooing, and Caleb let out a breathless laughter, his earlier anxiety slowly receding. He still wondered about his capability, but more than that, he wondered how it was possible to love someone you had just met. When his eyes drifted up, settling over your sleeping form, he almost laughed again, realizing he had never found the answer to that question, having always been a willing victim of “love at first sight.”

He shifted his gaze back down to the tiny baby in his arms, his lips resting over the infant’s forehead, the sweet scent of the newborn filling his nostrils, and a warmth unlike anything he had ever felt before filled his chest.

“Welcome to the world, my little one,” he whispered, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

#x — 💌#anonymous #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #caleb fluff #lads scenarios #omg i get to add a new ficlet to my baby masterlist #you guys know i have a baby masterlist right lol #how many caleb seeds are you all planning on planting in my head #because #why am i so weak to them ;-;

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Wifey!Reader trying to surprise visit him at work only to witness how Pushover!König is like at work

You stare at your soft, kind, a bit of a weak husband as he slams the recruit's body to the ground and stomps on them. Twice. Screamed a bit for good measure and then hauled other recruits to get them to the hospital before he got some other lazy ass out in a chair. The recruit missed the training one time and was a bit snarky about it. You're not sure what you were expecting when you married him. A colonel from a mercenary organization is as socially inept as those people can be. You're basically his only social link, barely holding on to dear life as you were trying to convince him to be just a bit less sociopathic. You thought he'd be...fine. Somewhat. A little bit more adjusted than usual. You were not expecting him to yell at someone like that. To know so many ways of belittling someone. And also look hot doing it. Konig, of course, is terrified when he finds out you are here, looking at him like a deer stuck in headlights. He made sure to keep his professional and personal life separate - to always make sure you are getting the best version of him he can give to you. Now, of course, it's kinda pointless. You know this crazed look of his, the cold steel of his eyes as he looked at you, his triumph slowly melting into shock...and you were so fucking aroused it made your stomach twist. A mix of panic and pleasure, your silent desire for him to be the one standing over you, toying with your helpless body as if you were nothing but his helpless little pet. You made sure to ask him to be a bit rougher in bed after this one time. Maybe manhandled you a bit, some dirty words thrown in your direction as you imagined him taking you a bit more forcefully. Your poor soft husband will have to take his work attitude again...and it's not like he doesn't enjoy it.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod

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bumblesimagines · 4 months ago

Text

Common Interests

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Colonel Miles Quaritch never expected to be revived into the body of the very thing he went to war against but he adapted. Now, he can't fully understand if his new brain is making him imagine things.. like an attraction to one of the locals.

Pronouns: He/Him/His

CW/TW: Typical Avatar warnings, age gap (Quaritch's conscience is much older than (Y/N) but his body is much younger so), they match each other's freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public, Quaritch is probably a lil ooc, sexual content toward the end

~~~

A heavy sense of deja vu washed over Miles as he took in the module, now worn down from time and taken over by the forest's flora. He died, and while he had no memory of the day, the reminder settled over his shoulders like a weight.

It was hard to look away from the battle sight, too overgrown with lush plant life to hold any signs of a fight apart from the module and the AMP suit containing his bones. It chilled him when he first laid eyes on the remains of his human body, on the arrows piercing through where his chest had been.

Looking at it now filled him with anger and the delicious heat of revenge. Killing Jake Sully would be an eye for an eye, in his opinion. It wasn't his problem Jake had disposed of his human body.

"This.. 'friend' of yours," Miles cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from the AMP suit to eye the feral child, his feral child by all means. Spider glanced at him. "Any idea when, or if, he'll show up?" There's a bite to his words. Patience wasn't one of his virtues.

Spider only swallowed and turned his back to him, the blue stripes painted along his arms humorous if not pitying. He was beginning to believe this 'friend' was a ruse, some lie conjured up in hopes that the Sullys would take notice and fly to his rescue. The tension in the air amongst his squad members told him they thought similarly, and the last thing Miles wanted was getting further on General Ardmore's bad side. His stunt with the scientists had left a notable bad taste in her mouth.

His head tilted curiously when Spider took a deep inhale, half-expecting a scream for help to leave his short body, but instead, Spider made a call of sorts. It sounded odd, likely due to his vocal cords being unlike a Na'vi's but it echoed through the forest nonetheless. Everyone held their breaths, ears twitching and flicking wildly as they examined the gigantic branches stretched out all around them. Miles waited, his muscles tense. A distant call echoed back and the clanking of soldiers grabbing their guns followed.

Spider's hands shot up, his eyes flying wide open in panic. It almost tugged on Miles's heartstrings. "Don't shoot him! I told you- he isn't with the Omatikaya!"

"You never told us why," Wainfleet mentioned stiffly, his hold on his assault rifle unrelenting. "He could be a cannibal for all we know."

"He's not- What?" Spider made a face, his blonde eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. Wainfleet shrugged. "He's not a cannibal. He was exiled for- for-" Spider swallowed again, nervous this time and even a little sheepish. "For making an attempt on Jake's life."

Now that had Miles's attention, and his body reacted accordingly. His ears perked and twitched forward with interest and a throaty chuckle vibrated in his throat. "Is that so?" One of his canines dug lightly into his lip, half-eager and half-amused. Of course, his kid would befriend someone banished for attempted murder.

A feeling of being watched suddenly bore into his back and he whipped around, one hand grabbing his rifle but the sharp inhale from Spider made him hesitant to raise it. His eyes studied the surrounding treeline, more adept and better than his human eyes but the Na'vi of the forest were raised to stalk their prey without being seen. An excited chill jittered up his spine.

A little too late for his liking, Miles caught sight of the figure before a blur of blue jumped down into the small clearing, landing on the ground with a soft thump no human ears would've picked up. The soldiers whirled around and bristled at the sight of the unfamiliar Na'vi as he slowly rose from his hunches, those almost cat-like eyes studying them intently.

"(Y/N)!" Spider shouted, the relief in his voice immense.

(Y/N)'s ear twitched at the sound of his voice and before anyone could blink, Spider ducked past Miles and straight for him. There were shouts, ones that Miles silenced with a raised hand, and the soldiers reluctantly grew still. Spider essentially threw himself at the Na'vi, though his small human weight barely even swayed him. (Y/N)'s tail coiled.

"Vrrtep 'eveng." He murmured, his hand comically large when he placed it over Spider's shoulder. Miles felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest watching Spider press his mask as close as possible into (Y/N)'s abdomen, seeking comfort and reminding him of just how young he still was. (Y/N)'s fingers pressed into his shoulder blades and then promptly tugged Spider away, his face neutral.

It only then registered what he'd called Spider. Demon child.

Miles found himself unable to tear his eyes away from his kid. "He speak English?"

Spider's mouth opened to respond but Miles caught the irritated tail swish and found his question answered. "He can." (Y/N)'s voice was accented, similar to the accent of Sully's wife, but it somehow sounded more pleasing coming from him. Perhaps the history between Miles and the Sullys ran too bitter for him to see any beauty in the family. (Y/N)'s eyes dropped back to Spider. "You are with dreamwalkers. Why?"

Before Spider could answer, or potentially plead to be saved and ruin everything, Miles took a step forward and lifted his hands away from his weapons. "I have an understandin' you and Jake Sully, the man your people call 'Toruk Makto', are at odds." (Y/N) stared at him. Right, right, human phrases and sayings weren't at the top of the school's list of things to teach the Na'vi. "You don't like him."

(Y/N)'s lip curled upward into a smirk, and the fact he looked unbothered by all the weapons pointed at him made Miles like him already.

"JakeSully is a vrrtep, a demon amongst the People. A false idol." (Y/N)'s features hardened then, ears pinned back and everything. Spider suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He stole everything from my brother. Tsu'tey should have been Olo'eyktan. Neytiri was meant to be his mate. JakeSully took it all from him, and then killed him. Him being Toruk Makto means little to me. He is.. vermin."

"You're preachin' to the goddamn choir, kid." That little furrowed brow look appeared on his face again but Miles continued. He could feel his canines pressing into his lip from how wide he grinned. "Jake Sully is a vermin, but he's a vermin I mean to kill."

(Y/N)'s tail raised and coiled slightly so Miles interpreted it as a sign of interest. He took a moment to study the Na'vi standing before him, the Na'vi his son seemed to prefer over him. Miles couldn't blame him; he'd be apprehensive after all the shit the scientists put him through too.

Like all other Na'vi, (Y/N) was tall and lithe and sported as little clothing as possible which Miles tried not to focus on too hard. There was a scar along his forearm a paler blue than his skin but it appeared to be in the process of fading. A wound from the war, Miles assumed. His eyes captivated him the most though.

His eyes were pretty, but his stare was intense—not intense in the angry or aggravated way of the Sullys or even Spiders, but in a predatory way. He watched them like a lion would a herd of gazelles when contemplating whether to leave them alone or go on the prowl. His stare was confident and calm while simultaneously intimidating, filling Miles with a thrill.

"We need to become more like the Na'vi, like you, in order to locate and terminate Jake Sully."

Spider glanced up at (Y/N), his hands twitching as if he wanted to toss his arms around him again. "He means becoming an ikran rider."

(Y/N) blinked at that and for the first time, he looked utterly bewildered. "You are not ready."

"Kid," Miles lightly scoffed and exchanged glances with the rest of his squad. "We're soldiers- warriors, if you will. We're more than ready for anythin'."

"We were born ready." Wainfleet asserted cockily, a light pleased chuckle rumbling in his throat, but (Y/N) remained unconvinced.

He stepped forward toward Miles in a long stride, and the air, which had been lightening up, tensed again. Z-Dog shuffled forward, nearly pushing her rifle close to his face, but he merely hissed at her, all canines and briefly flattened ears. It was a simple warning, based on how swiftly his features relaxed afterward.

"Leave him." Miles barked and she begrudgingly backed off.

Being in an avatar body gave him the advantage of equal footing with the Na'vi, and his self-assurance showed when he allowed (Y/N) to draw closer. (Y/N) eyed him from head to toe, his stare scrutinizing. To Miles's surprise, (Y/N) took his hand in his and studied it, lightly pinching the finger his own hand lacked. His touch was equally surprising: gentle, mindful, almost cautious. He hummed softly and trailed his attention upward until it stopped on the ink covering his bicep, tracing the outline of the bird with his eyes.

"It's an eagle-"

(Y/N) dropped his hand, uninterested. "It is ugly."

Miles stared at him in surprise and felt some heat lick up his neck when his ears caught the stifled snickers behind him from his squad. He shot them a withering glare and they quickly silenced themselves, even straightening up and adjusting their hold on their weapons. Fuckin' Morons.

(Y/N) circled him, his eyes raking all over his body and lingering on his rifle when he appeared at Miles's other side. His curiosity was understandable; Miles often wondered what other differences there were between the natives and avatars besides the obvious. His hand reached behind Miles and carefully took his braid into his hand, the feeling alone sending a jolt up his spine.

He'd received an obligatory lesson on his avatar body, its limits and functions, all that jazz. He was beginning to think that maybe he should've paid closer attention to the parts he deemed useless for the mission. He'd probably know why his body was reacting so strongly to a mere touch.

"You have kurus, you may perform tsaheylu." (Y/N) dragged his palm along the braid, the sensation making the air catch in Miles's throat though it seemingly went unnoticed. It was an odd sensation, one he couldn't describe. It sent shivers dancing along his spine and made his lungs struggle to breathe. (Y/N) stopped at the bottom and raised it so the others could see the wriggling tendrils. "You will need tsaheylu to bond with an ikran."

"What's it like? This, uh, tsahehu shit."

(Y/N) glared at Wainfleet and Miles tugged his braid free, air finally flowing into his lungs with ease. "Tsaheylu is a bond. You will feel the ikran.. you will feel each beat from its heart, every breath it takes, every emotion it feels, any pain it endures.. and it will feel you, too. Once tsaheylu is established, the ikran will be bonded with you until death."

The information settled over the squad and Miles gave a thoughtful hum, his fingertips lightly scratching his chin and eyes dragging down to (Y/N)'s 'kuru'. His hand raised to grasp it, curious to see how it'd affect the Na'vi, but (Y/N) snatched his wrist and held it hard in his hand before it could inch any closer to his braid. Miles's jaw clenched with a flare of irritation.

"Tsaheylu is only performed in adulthood when you choose the person you wish to be mated for life with. It is serious. It is the strongest bond you will ever have with another." (Y/N) squeezed his wrist and narrowed his eyes. "Kurus are not toys."

"You mind lettin' me go, kid?" His teeth bared until his wrist was released from his tight grip and his nostrils flared with a sharp inhale. "Let me make myself very clear here, (Y/N). You and I, we fought on opposite sides of the same damn war. We may have a common enemy but you and I sure as shit ain't friends. We need a Na'vi, a real Na'vi, and you are as real as it gets. I respect your loyalty to your brother and what you tried doin' in his honor but I am Colonel Quaritch. You will treat me with some goddamn respect, understood?"

(Y/N) leaned in despite the already close distance between their faces, their noses just a hair away from brushing. The intensity in his eyes heightened, not a speck of fear in them or a tremble in his body. Most would have had wobbly knees from his tone alone. Miles's eyes unwillingly lowered to the constellation of lightly glowing white freckles scattered across his face and found himself startled when he considered the beauty of his features.

That wasn't right.

Na'vi were strange, alien creatures who he typically found unattractive in every aspect but their admirable courage. He supposed becoming an avatar and living in a body that largely resembled them flipped a switch in his head, made him unconsciously reconsider how he saw them.

(Y/N)'s flat nose, round eyes, pierced ears, striped markings, and sharp canines no longer looked unnatural. It made him uncomfortable to realize but he was too stubborn to lean back or look away from him. He was a Colonel, goddamnit.

"You are vrrtep, too, like JakeSully. Your existence-" (Y/N) cocked his head to the side, his breath hot on Miles's face. "-disgusts me."

(Y/N) leaned back, his chin slightly tucked and his unblinking stare challenging, silently encouraging Miles to test him. Miles felt tempted to; he wanted to strangle him or slam his knuckles into his nose, something, anything, just to put the fear of god in him and finally feel an ounce of respect from him.. another part wanted to squeeze his flesh and learn how he tasted. Miles hadn't expected the latter, and it made him worry for his sanity. Had it really been that long since he last gotten laid?

"You've got some balls on you, kid." He finally managed.

(Y/N)'s hairless brows twitched downward, confused again. It was startling how easily he switched from murderous and eager to fight to then having innocent puzzlement over common human phrases. His mouth formed a frown and his eyes flickered to Spider questioningly, his tail flickering from side to side like a whip.

Spider sighed heavily, obviously discontent with the newfound alliance, however unstable it was. "It means he thinks you're brave."

(Y/N) hummed and looked the slightest bit satisfied, the corners of his mouth twitching up before it smoothed back out into a neutral expression. His shoulders straightened and he roamed his eyes over the rest of the squad, his eyes flickering around to study each of them and their bodies.

"Come then, we will see what Ewya thinks of your desire to ride her ikrans."

When the opinionated and often grating Dr. Augustine was still around running her little avatar program, Miles paid little mind to her discoveries on Na'vi culture. His job was training each soldier that came to Pandora and ensuring they had a fighting chance when they ventured past the walls of Hell's Gate, not keeping up with sleep-deprived, yapping little scientists who more often got in the way. Now.. well, as much as he hated admitting it, maybe he should've done some more research on what going full Na'vi would entail.

"You're fucking with us." Z-Dog breathed, uttering the words on everyone's minds as they stared up at the floating islands that made up part of the Hallelujah Mountains. The small clusters of rock and foliage floated above them, connected by roots and vines that extended up and through the clouds. "We're going up there.. on foot?"

(Y/N) grinned, his canines gleaming in the sunlight as Spider snickered under his breath. "You are climbing. Spider will lead the way."

Z-Dog scoffed. "And what the hell are you going to do?"

"Fly."

Tilting his head toward the skies, (Y/N) made two distinctive calls, stronger and smoother than the call Spider had made but with a harder click of his tongue. The familiar shriek of an ikran responded and the squad took tentative steps back when the winged beast appeared through the clouds. It landed before them and gave its long body a hard shake, little chirps coming from her parted jaws.

"Do not look her in the eye. She will take it as a challenge." (Y/N) instructed with amusement, his palm gently running along her long neck. A soft noise rumbled in her chest and her four golden eyes fluttered shut. "Her name is Tìlor. We flew into battle together against the sawtute years ago."

Tìlor was a pretty girl. A mix of lavender and aqua-blue collided along her leathery body with navy blue markings covering her from snout to tail. The talons at the end of each dragonfly-like wing tapped gently against the ground, helping her move as she shifted around to peer up into the skies.

(Y/N)'s hand moved to carefully grasp one of the kurus protruding from her temples, moving it so he could connect his own with hers. Her body shivered and her pupils dilated briefly before her head affectionately bumped into his abdomen.

"I will meet you on Mons Veritatis." He told them as he climbed onto the saddle fastened to her back. His grin sharpened into something cruel when he looked at them. "A fall from this height will kill you. Mind your step."

Tìlor swiftly took off into the sky with a shriek, her movements swift and graceful as they circled the main roots attached to the ground that led to the first floating rock before they disappeared beyond the clouds. Spider moved quickly, effortlessly climbing onto the roots and walking up without hesitance.

"C'mon." Miles huffed, adjusting his rifle so it rested along his back and setting his boot over the root to test its sturdiness. It was long and thicker than his body but the bottom of his shoe slipped on the moss. He sighed and reached down to undo the laces of his boots. "We can't let some Na'vi outshine us, can we?"

The climb to Mons Veritatis was treacherous. Each time he looked up, more floating islands appeared above them, more spread out and dangerous than the last. Spider climbed as if he'd done the journey a million times before, even leaping from island to island and swinging from vines as if he were only a few feet from the ground and not climbing through clouds. His arms burned and ached like hell by the time they reached the mountain the ikrans called home, his blue skin shining with sweat and air leaving him in small huffs.

Spider barely looked out of breath.

He led them to the rookery, a cliff along the side of the mountain covered in thick vegetation with untamed ikrans scattered across the surface in an ocean of vibrant colors. Ikrans shrieked and growled at the sight of them, and those closest to where they walked shuffled away or flew off to settle somewhere else. Tìlor landed beside them and snapped at a nearby ikran, a youngling that darted into the sky in fright.

(Y/N) hopped off her back and reached out to grab the muzzle of the tranquilizer gun Wainfleet tried setting up. "You wish to be like Na'vi, you will do this like Na'vi. JakeSully's children have completed iknimaya with no weapons. You are adults." He effortlessly tugged the gun from Wainfleet's hands, his tail flicking with a hint of annoyance. His gaze turned toward Miles and the corner of his mouth raised mockingly. "Unless you are afraid, vrrtep."

Miles's jaw twitched and he inhaled slowly through his nose. He was playing right into (Y/N)'s game and he knew it but his pride refused to let him be so openly mocked. "Alright," He rose from his hunches to be at eye level with him and he slipped his rifle free from his back to hand it over to Mansk. "How is this done, tough guy?"

"You do not choose an ikran, an ikran chooses you." His eyes suddenly brightened and his tail wiggled with a barely contained thrill, his sharp little canines digging into his bottom lip. He looked positively excited, in an almost deranged way. "It will try to kill you."

Miles smirked, a laugh rumbling in the back of his throat. "Now, ain't that somethin'."

Bridgehead City's nothing compared to the forest encircling it that the machines slowly chip away at. All metal and concrete instead of soft dirt and towering trees, clanging and whirring of machines instead of soft calls and branches rustling, cold AC air blasting inside the buildings instead of the warm air outside.

(Y/N) obtained a permanent nose crinkle the moment the chopper landed, and he hardly seemed impressed at the fact he had to breathe from a mask every few minutes when they finally escaped the machines working outside. His ears twitched in every direction and his eyes narrowed at every stare he received from stunned or petrified workers.

If he sported the outfit the Recoms wore instead of the beaded jewelry and little loincloth of the clans, he may have passed for one of them, but Miles figured he'd refuse to even put socks on; it took ages to convince him to visit Bridgehead, to begin with. His tail whipped irritability and Miles hoped Spider's quiet explanations of everything kept his temper in check.

"Pull up the footage we've got on Jake Sully's attacks," Miles ordered, his hands coming to rest on his hips. He waited a moment for the footage to be projected but everyone in the room was frozen still. Nobody moved, nobody even breathed. What a bunch of pansies. "Am I talkin' to my-damn-self?"

The nearest person to the control panel quickly reached over and tapped on the smooth panel that lit up briefly at her touch before she shrunk back into her chair as projections of the footage appeared. (Y/N) stepped forward, eyeing the technology curiously as he took a sip of air from his mask.

"Jake Sully's attacks are well-coordinated," Miles admitted somewhat reluctantly, watching choppers explode from missiles shot by stolen weapons and the muted cries of soldiers struck by arrows longer than their bodies.

(Y/N) propped his leg up on an empty chair, the action so casual he could've been mistaken for a cocky Recom. Miles's eyes naturally drifted back to him and he felt his lip quirk. The Na'vi seemed to have an instinct to perch on things, something Spider picked up like a habit. The teen mimicked (Y/N) and crossed his arms over his chest, though he looked like he hardly cared for the footage.

"He was sawtute before he was uniltìrantokx. He claimed to be a warrior and he wielded your weapons effortlessly during the Battle of Ayram Alusìng." (Y/N) craned his head over his shoulder to look at him. "This does not surprise me."

"The Na'vi fight-"

"What the hell is this, Colonel?"

General Ardmore's voice vibrated through the room, sharp and tense and dripping with controlled fury. Those in the room familiar with her stiffened immediately, more tense than they were when (Y/N) entered the room. Her bright blue eyes flickered wildly between the Na'vi and Miles, disbelief on her face first before the irritation returned in the form of a scowl.

"This is (Y/N)." Miles drawled casually, knowing it'd grate on her nerves. He still had to wrap his head around no longer being the top dog around the base. "He's an Omatikaya exile; he nearly killed Jake Sully."

"So, you thought you'd just bring your new pet here to Bridgehead?" General Ardmore laughed humorlessly, her jaw visibly clenching. (Y/N) stared at her blankly, his tail twitching once with disinterest before he returned his attention to the projections. "Colonel-"

"We fought the Na'vi blindly once and lost because Jake Sully knew our ways. We need someone who knows how Sully and his wife work, how they think and act as Na'vi." Miles explained, his boots thumping against the floor until his body was between (Y/N) and the other humans with holstered weapons. "He's already proven useful, General."

"We aren't here to make friends, Colonel." General Ardmore spoke through near-gritted teeth, her eyes briefly fluttering shut in exasperation. "You know our new objective."

"He's useful to our current objective, General. He's been trained to fight by the Na'vi since he was a kid and he despises Jake Sully. Trust me on this one, I know what I'm doin'."

General Ardmore remained silent for a long while, her nostrils flaring and eyes narrowed into slits. Her chest rose with a deep inhale and she gave a firm nod, her eyes alone threatening him before she turned her back to him. "If he becomes a problem, you will neutralize him."

"Understood."

(Y/N)'s curiosity of Bridgehead was limited. He seemed more disturbed than intrigued as they ventured down brightly lit halls and bustling rooms, disgusted grunts leaving him when the smell of perfume or cologne wafted through the air. His face alternated between scrunched up and blank but his tail moved by its own accord. More than once, Miles felt it tap along his leg or begin to curl around it before it jerked away. Eventually, it curled around Spider's arm and Miles realized he'd been seeking something to comfort him.

It was sobering. All his memories of the Na'vi were violent: the consistent attacks on their machinery and soldiers throughout his years on the planet, Jake and Dr. Augustine's betrayal, the war against them where human numbers dropped considerably, his gruesome death at the hands of Neytiri. (Y/N) was feral, untamed and unpredictable, but the flickers of a caring side and the confusion over phrases reminded him he wasn't a mindless creature set on making his life more taxing.

Miles was beginning to loathe him. There was nothing more he despised than being conflicted over someone. He always knew what he wanted.

"You and I need to have a chat, kid," Miles said, his fist tapping against one of the panels by one of the wide doors leading into the sector specifically designed for the Recoms and their towering bodies. The doors slid open with a low hiss and he glanced over his shoulder at Spider. "Alone."

"But-"

"Fike and Z-Dog here will keep you company."

With one last grin, he stepped through the doors and nodded for (Y/N) to follow. He did, albeit begrudgingly, and raised his ears when the doors slid shut and a soft whir turned on to replace the air with one they could breathe without help from the masks.

The second set of doors opened once done and Miles led him through the recreation room. From the chairs to the tables to the gym equipment on the far side of the room, everything had been specifically designed for them and easily dwarfed anything human-sized.

(Y/N) still looked unimpressed. He was likely used to the vibrancy of the forest, the bright colors and open space that felt neverending. Bridgehead was dull in comparison, lifeless it if weren't for the residents adding splashing of color to it with their appearances. Miles wondered how long it'd take for him to adapt, if he could at all.

He stopped briefly in front of another set of automatic doors that slid open to reveal his room and entered, waiting for (Y/N) to step inside before tapping on the pad to lock the doors. His room was nothing to ogle at. Plain white walls, plain gray floors, a neatly made bed avatar-sized pressed against the wall, a metal nightstand with a forgotten cup of coffee, a desk with a tablet and lamp, a closet built into the wall. It wasn't much but it was home, and he had it all to himself unlike some of his soldiers who had to share bunks.

"You.. live here?" (Y/N)'s lips curled when he nodded. "My cave is more welcoming than this. This is... sad."

Miles chuckled under his breath, lightly scratching his temple before he approached his desk to pick up the tablet. "We will begin our search for Jake Sully and his family in soon. He's gone beyond the forest, possibly to the islands across the eastern sea. What clans live out there?" His fingers tapped on the screen, searching the data of the closest whaling vessels that could help them narrow down their search.

"The Tayrangi, Ta'unui, and Metkayina clans live throughout the eastern sea." There was the sound of springs softly creaking and he raised his head to find (Y/N) lying on his bed, chin propped over his arms and tail raised high in the air. He blinked at him, his eyes trailing over the stripes along his back until they stopped over the curve of his ass. "The Tayrangi live on the mainland but fish in the seas. They are too close. JakeSully would have gone further."

"Right." His voice sounded strained. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

"The Ta'unui and Metkayina clans live on the reefs." (Y/N)'s eyes gravitated toward him, his ears raising and twitching. Miles swore his lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "Far, far from here. You will have to learn how to ride better if you wish to fly across the sea. You risk much without experience."

"Well, ain't it good you're here, then?" Miles set the tablet aside, his original task forgotten in favor of approaching the bed with slow steps. (Y/N) watched him and lowered his tail until it thumped softly over the mattress. "I'm afraid we can't keep headin' out to the forest whenever we need 'cha, kid. You're hard to find, hard to track. Until we head out to find Jake Sully, you'll have to stay here in Bridgehead."

(Y/N) moved onto his knees, his eyes narrowing and ears pressing back tight against his skull. "No."

"I wasn't askin'."

(Y/N)'s tail moved like a whip, quick and hard. It slammed into the ceramic coffee cup and sent it flying into the wall where it shattered into pieces, the leftover coffee adding a brown stain to the wall as it dripped down onto the floor. His tail grew still afterward and his head cocked to the side challengingly again. Miles's mouth drew into a line. The silence was loud. He needed to get the buzzing out of his system.

His hand darted out and grabbed the back of (Y/N)'s head before he tugged him close enough to slam their mouths together. (Y/N) stiffened briefly before his tense muscles relaxed, the sharp whoosh of his tail swaying hard from side to side filling Miles's ears. His fingers dug into Miles's shoulders tightly, purposefully, and he allowed Miles to invade his mouth with a muffled hum. (Y/N) tasted tart and tangy, like one of the fruits he favored.

Miles dropped his free hand to his belt and fiddled with it until he could pop the button of his pants and feel them droop around his hips. He shoved them further down his thighs and left them to pool around his ankles, a grunt vibrating in his throat when (Y/N) bit his bottom lip and drew blood.

His hand reared back, a sting erupting along his palm when it made contact with (Y/N)'s behind. He swallowed the startled noise (Y/N) made and dragged him close enough for their chests to press firmly together. (Y/N)'s tail smacked against his thigh like a whip, hard and fast enough to have the effect of one.

"You're a real piece of work, ain'tcha?" Miles chuckled huskily, the pain only adding to the heat flowing through his veins and making his briefs unbearably tight.

His tongue pressed against the small cut on his lip, the rusty metallic of blood dancing on his tongue before he dropped his hands down to the back of (Y/N)'s thighs and tugged on them to topple the Na'vi onto the mattress. A huff of surprise left (Y/N) but before he could prop himself up onto his elbows, Miles dragged him until his hips were almost off the bed. He tugged on the loincloth impatiently and tossed it aside blindly, his knees thumping loudly against the metal once he dropped to his knees.

The way (Y/N) blinked down at him in bewilderment made him grin wolfishly. "Just wanna get a taste, is all."

This body was new, young, and had the sensitivity of a virgin (which it technically was) but his mind had fifty-one years of experience sleeping with men and women on Earth and Pandora. He often preferred women, preferred the plushness of breasts over pecs, but he'd never been one to let an opportunity pass him by, especially not with his body reacting so strongly to the puzzled Na'vi.

The last person he recalled being with had been Paz, Spider's mother. The surprise that came with her pregnancy left him taking a silent vow of celibacy while he wrapped his head around being a father, along with avoiding her as if she had the plague. He regretted it now but it was something of the past, unchangeable.

(Y/N) let out a noise of confusion when Miles spread him and then a startled, strangled gasp when his tongue prodded at him. One had to wonder how many times he'd been with someone else intimately. Miles laughed under his breath and began lapping like a starved animal, licking and prodding. He shoved his briefs down his thighs to free himself and felt himself twitch when he delicately pushed one finger past the rim. (Y/N)'s legs caged around his head immediately and he hummed, pressing his cheek into his thigh.

"Breathe, sweetheart." He called, grin lazy and voice teasing. "You ain't ever done this before, huh?"

"Tanfwìngtu." (Y/N)'s tail smacked his thigh again, this time gentler. His face had flushed a deeper shade of blue and his chest moved with heavy pants. Reducing a would-be killer to a flustered mess made Miles's head spin and ego inflate. "You-"

Miles drew back and then pushed a second digit, mouth curling into a pleased grin when (Y/N)'s back arched off the bed. "Don't bite the hand that feeds now. I'm being nice, aren't I?" He moved his fingers at an even pace, ears absorbing each soft squelch and every noise flowing from (Y/N)'s mouth. "Is this how Jake tamed his wild woman?"

(Y/N) grunted and reached down, his fingers curling along the short hairs and firmly tugging. Miles nipped at his thigh in warning but (Y/N) simply tugged again, a breathy chuckle huffing into the air that made Miles's ears flick forward. He moved upward, flattening his tongue at the base of (Y/N)'s twitching length and dragging it along until he reached the spurting tip.

"Ain't this a pretty thing?" He laughed and (Y/N) scoffed.

Miles had never paid much attention to his cock, other than when he was taking a piss or relieving himself of some stress with his hand, but if he had, he would've realized the difference in appearance. He'd expected something similar to human anatomy, and it mostly was, but (Y/N)'s twitching cock was in an ombre color: a light blue at the tip that slowly faded into the deep blue that covered the rest of his body. Little white freckles were scattered across it, glowing faintly with each shiver that went up his spine.

Miles grinned wildly as he slipped his fingers out and listened to the strangled whine that followed, his tail flicking and coiling blissfully. "I gotcha, I gotcha, don't worry." He adjusted himself, pushing at his rim until the tip popped inside and he released a low hiss at the overwhelming warmth. He leaned over (Y/N) and pressed a biting kiss to his collarbone. "See what happens when you comply?"

"Skxawng," (Y/N) reached around and firmly wrapped his fingers around Miles's braid, grinning wickedly when Miles's body shivered. He tugged on it and Miles's hips jerked forward, a low groan and curse tumbling past his lips. A soft, near-purr-like noise rumbled in (Y/N)'s chest. "I will never follow orders from a vrrtep."

"Yeah?" Miles steadied himself, sinking his knees into the mattress and finding himself pleasantly surprised when (Y/N)'s legs curled around his waist. He could feel the coolness of the beaded jewelry rub against him through his shirt, pressing and leaving circular imprints. "We'll see about that."

If he'd come to learn anything since meeting the Na'vi beneath him, it was that he could handle just about anything. He pressed an uncharacteristically delicate kiss to his jawline and planted one hand by his head, fisting the sheets into his hand and offering one last crooked grin. His hips snapped forward, bottoming out and relishing both the warm squeeze and the feeling of (Y/N) biting roughly into his shoulder.

He groaned into his twitching ear and tried to focus all his attention on the knot in his lower belly. He'd done far too much teasing to end up squirting early like a teen boy during his first time. The concept of virginity and early release was likely nonexistent to the locals who barely batted an eye at nudity, but it'd be mortifying if any of the blabbermouths he worked with found out.

Miles evened out his breathing and grunted softly when (Y/N) released his shoulder, his unfocused vision turning to peer down at him. His hand had curled around Miles's wrist, tight as if he were holding on for dear life, but what Miles found most endearing (aside from the hint of blood smeared on the corner of his mouth) was the feeling of their tails curled together. "I gotcha." He repeated softly and, with slightly pursed lips, (Y/N) gave a small nod.

When he took a second too long to act, (Y/N)'s ears flicked back. "Move."

Miles huffed out a short laugh. "So bossy."

But Miles did as asked and began snapping his hips, rough and hard just as he always liked it. His mind blanked and an almost guttural groan rushed out, mixing with the whines and moans of (Y/N) writhing beneath him.

His arm gave out so he braced himself on his forearm instead, his other hand dipping down to grip (Y/N)'s hip and keep him firmly in place. Miles buried his face into his neck, inhaling the scent of the forest still clinging to his skin and dragging his tongue over one of the stripes there.

(Y/N)'s cheek pressed against his head, his hot panting making Miles's ear twitch annoyingly but when he nuzzled into him, obviously delirious, Miles felt his heart stutter in his chest. The knot in his lower belly tightened and only prompted him to drill into him faster, his fingers digging into his skin harder and canines grazing over his skin. (Y/N)'s noises were reduced to babbling Miles couldn't understand, though he assumed it was cursing, and breathless gasps forced out of him with each thrust.

"C'mon, baby," Miles roughly kissed his throat, nipping it lightly after, and pulled back to eye the watery glaze over (Y/N)'s half-lidded eyes. He released his hip and wrapped his hand around his speckled length, giving it a few pumps until (Y/N) was squeezing the life right out of him. "Jesus."

With a cry, (Y/N) arched up into him and spurted all over his hand, staining Miles's olive green shirt in the process. Miles's rutting grew messy, his thighs quivering and threatening to give out on him. He pressed his mouth against (Y/N)'s again in a sloppy kiss and he let out a long, muffled groan when he finally felt the knot snap. His body slumped over (Y/N) and his arms wrapped around him firmly, keeping him from slipping out of reach.

"How's that for a vrrtep?"

"Could have been better." (Y/N) muttered tiredly, his fingers lightly dancing along Miles's braid.

Miles snorted. "Fuckin' brat."

677 notes · View notes

janluxe · 19 days ago

Text

HOUSECAT — CALEB/XIA YIZHOU

–summary; social anxiety!caleb, that's it

–contents; pure fluff

–w/c; 380

so what if Caleb wasn't always this extroverted. maybe he had always resembled a cheetah in many ways; shy and harmless despite the scary appearance.

perhaps, he'd stay close to people he knew in big crowds or even cling to them at a very early age.

different parents loved him the second they met him "he's so timid and calm." they always claimed and he hated that about himself.

until he met you. from that point on, he started to, slowly but surely, open up a bit more until he got where he is today.

you always took notice of his attempts to wash the nervousness down, his hands always finding something to fidget with.

maybe he had changed since then. Especially after going to college, he surely has become a different person – one who found social interactions easy. Well, no.

caleb remained glued to your side in public space, unsure how to react in given social interactions despite how fearless he wanted to appear in your eyes. sure, he couldn't stop talking about his interests to you or the closest of friends. it was adorable, really.

his hand always ended up on his chest or his neck, rubbing the skin ever so gently, to remind himself that everything was under control.

a fearsome colonel of the fleet found himself unable to handle social situations without having second thoughts.

yet here he stayed; remaining completely still, eyes closed as your hands massaged the sore muscles of his neck and shoulders – it was a common issue.

"i did well, didn't i?" caleb murmured against the fabric of your shirt, arms enveloping you as you stood between his legs before he looked up into your eyes. just like a small child, seeking reassurance from someone important.

and honestly? he hadn't experienced a panic attack the past few months. after he reunited with you. so for that, he deserved a golden star, to say the least. "you're doing better than anyone would've."

he looked so pretty like this, face practically glowing from just a simple praise. caleb had always been easy to please and so eager to please at the same time.

"i'm proud of you." you added with a hint of admiration rushing through you, and he was content in your arms.

–a/n; do we get the idea chat? tysm for reading, have a nice day/night ♡

#fluff #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x you #character x reader #love and deepspace #caleb fluff #caleb lads #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #xia yizhou fluff #xia yizhou x you #caleb xia #xia yizhou x reader #xia yizhou #lads caleb x reader #lads

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stargirlygirl · 10 days ago

Note

Lads walkingvin on mc pleasuring themselves with sex toys they didn't know she had

star girl's initial words: thank you so much for requesting! hope you like this one. i've seen writers do this prompt before, so my apologies if i have nothing new to add. ALSO there's no raf as our relationship is tricky😔

they catch you during solo time

⭑.ᐟ caleb

i imagine you're sprawled out on your shared bed and caleb's been working a lot recently. when the colonel comes home, his sharp ears instantly pick up on your quiet gasps and moans.

he's in stealth mode as he creeps down the hallway and peers at you through the ajar bedroom door. pathetic. were you so needy you couldn't even close it? he thinks. but those thoughts fade as soon as he sets those tired sunset eyes on you.

oh, you naughty girl.

your lip is drawn between your teeth as you pump a pretty pink dildo in and out of your pussy. your slick glistens in the late afternoon light, covering your inner thighs and the lucky sex toy between them.

caleb groans low, palming his growing bulge through his too-tight trousers. he watches your back arch and hand stutter, burying the dildo deep in your cunt. the sweetest whimpers cascade from your lips, caleb's name slipping out amongst them.

he's already storming into the room before he can stop himself.

the colonel grabs your hand and wrenches it off the dildo. your eyes snap wide open, and your chest heaves.

"caleb!" you exclaim, trying to sit up, but you're still full of the toy. his other gloved hand presses the centre of your chest down, effectively pinning you to the mattress.

"what's this, pips?" letting go of your hand, he grips the base of the dildo and draws it out of your snug walls. you let out a soft moan, gnawing on your lower lip once more as you stare up at your partner.

"miss me, huh?" he asks cockily, sliding the dildo back in at an agonisingly slow pace. you nod energetically. his hand on your chest trails up, his leather-coated fingers tangling in your hair. he pushes your head up while kneeling on the bed, your foreheads touching while he fucks you with the toy.

he breathes out, "i missed you, too, honey. but this isn't fair. you can't do this without me." you whine as he pulls the drenched dildo out in one go. your arousal drips onto the bed.

caleb frowns. the dildo doesn't look anything like his cock. it's thinner and longer.

he asks, jealousy tinging his voice, "am i not good enough?"

"no!" you blurt out, reaching for the dildo, but he tosses it over his shoulder like a piece of trash.

"caleb!" you whine. but you don't have time to scold him before your massive boyfriend is climbing on top of you. shoes on the bed and everything, he cages you in.

"don't i make you feel good? are you bored of me?" he interrogates you, his eyes betraying his hurt. they look glassy in the sun's final rays.

you shake your head panically and insist, "no! that's not it, baby. i've-i've had this one for ages, i swear! n' i love how you make me feel. always make me feel so good, babe."

closing the distance between you, caleb catches your lips in a fiery kiss. he kisses you like he's trying to devour you and prove a point at the same time— that he can satisfy you in ways no one else can. especially wayyyyy more than some fuck ass dildo that doesn't even deserve to go near your sacred cunt.

all night long, caleb demonstrates just how attentive of a partner he can be. of course, while still in his uniform.

⭑.ᐟ xavier

you recently bought this new sex toy that you've been dying to try out. with xavier crashed out on the couch, you turn off the movie you two were watching and sneak off to your bedroom.

pulling the rabbit vibrator out of the box, you check the instructions and make sure everything is in working order before turning it on. it's low buzz echoes throughout the room, making heat pool in your tummy. stripping off your shorts and panties, you flop on the bed and start teasing yourself with the vibrator.

it's only been a few minutes of having the long part nestled deep in your cunt when the bedroom door softly creaks open.

in peers a sleeply xavier, one slender hand rubbing his eyes while he murmurs, "i heard a buzzing, love. is everything okay—" your eyes lock, and you frantically pull the vibrator out and turn it off.

"xavier!" you squeal grabbing the covers the hiking them up over your body. your poor boyfriend, he just stands here, wide-eyed in the doorway.

you grumble from beneath the quilt, "babe! go away!" it's quiet for another minute or so before you feel the space next to you sink with xavier's weight. you clutch the covers for dear life, but he pries them away from your hands.

your face is flushed as you stare up at your partner. his big eyes rest on you, his lips slightly pouty.

he says softly, "you could have told me you wanted my attention."

you shake your head and admit, "i wanted to try out my new toy, babe."

"oh," he mumbles, glancing away momentarily. feeling guilty, you place your hand on his bent thigh and squeeze it.

"xav," you call quietly. the only sound that can be heard is the rain pattering against the windows.

he gazes back down at you and offers, "why don't we try it out together?" sitting up, you fish around for the toy beneath the quilt.

"you sure you don't mind?" you ask, your hand closing around the handle. he hums in agreement as you pull it out.

grinning, you inform him, "it's a bunny, like you." he stares at the sex toy quizzically.

"what?" he asks. you laugh as you kick the covers off and shuffle over to him. he takes the toy from you while you spin around and sit on his lap, your back against his chest. grabbing his wrist, you bring the vibrator down to your pussy.

"let me show you how it works..."

⭑.ᐟ sylus

the crime overlord shows up at your linkon apartment unannounced, only to find you moaning his name with a bullet vibrator on your clit. your eyes are closed, head thrown back as the constant buzz takes you to a higher dimension.

sylus chuckles cockily, "what a warm welcome kitten." your eyes shoot open and immediately find your partner taking a seat at the end of your bed. you remove the vibrator from your clit and fumble to turn it off.

his deep voice interrupts your efforts, "please, sweetie. go on. pretend i'm not even here." you're too pleasure-drunk to come up with a witty remark to hopefully wipe that stupid smirk off his face. so you just lie back, eyeing him cautiously as you flick your vibrator back on and pick the sole setting every girl needs.

"you sure?" you ask breathily, spreading your legs wide for your boyfriend. he nods, still grinning arrogantly. you run the small vibrator through your folds, wetting it thoroughly before pressing the tip on your clit. a moan tears through your throat, jagged as your free hand cups your breast beneath your tank top.

sylus observes the slight tremble in your legs and how your back arches as you alternate between pinching your nipples. the vibrator never falters; it provides the kind of consistency men often struggle to.

nonetheless, you miss your partner's strong, rough hands on you. you miss those thick fingers curling up into your g-spot, and his hot mouth sucking on your sensitive bud.

"sy," you whimper, removing the vibrator from your pussy and switching it off.

"something wrong, kitten?" he teases, but you notice the strain in his voice.

sitting upright, you pout at him, "please, baby. 's no fun without you." he chuckles richly before standing up and making his way over to you. his black leather pants can't conceal his hardening length, that's for sure.

leaning down, you hold his cheeks and draw him into a loving kiss. you two haven't seen each other for days.

drawing back, you pant, "missed you, sy. need you." you cling to his leather jacket and pull him down onto the bed. his large frame engulfs yours as your lips and tongues dance the line between love and lust.

"please," you mewl into his mouth. separating, spit connects your swollen lips.

your boyfriend chuckles, "what do you need from me, sweetie?" the glittering ropes snap as you draw in a sharp breath, your eyes hungrily gazing at his lips.

"need all of you, sy. in me, till sunrise," you whine. he hums low, the sound caught in his throat. coming in close, he captures your lips in another heated kiss and vows to fulfil your every desire.

⭑.ᐟ zayne

pleasure shoots through your body, the clitoral suction vibrator doing everything and more to your swollen nub. you're unable to stifle your moans as the bedroom door is quietly pushed open.

zayne's head peaks in, his sleep-deprived hazels wandering over you. he gulps, his gaze narrowing in on the toy in your hand. heat flares in his lower tummy, your broken whimpers fuelling the blood rushing to his cock.

unintentionally, your boyfriend swings the door wide open. the hinges squeak, and so do you as you notice him standing there.

"zayne!" he strides in, seeming as calm and collected as ever while his eyes shift to the vanity.

"sorry, my love. i didn't mean to disturb you," he murmurs, undoing his beige waistcoat. reaching the wardrobe, zayne's back is to you as he starts undressing.

hearing the buzz stop, he urges you on, "please, keep going. i'll only take a minute." the sheets rustle and soon enough, your warm, bare body presses into your lover's from behind. your arms encircle his hips, fingers toying with his belt buckle.

"zaynie," you coo. he turns in your grasp and cups your cheeks, his white shirt half-unbuttoned.

you grin sweetly, "i missed you. will you please come to bed?" zayne's cool thumb strokes your cheekbone soothingly as he thinks over your proposal.

he clarifies, "don't you want some alone time, dear?" you shake your head while keeping your eyes on his.

"i want you," you respond breathily. standing on your tippy-toes, you pull your boyfriend into a hungry kiss. pushing your body flush against his, you giggle into his mouth at the hardness poking into your stomach.

breaking the kiss, you ask smugly, "how long were you watching me?"

pink dusts zayne's cheeks as he rasps out, "not very long."

"and you're already this worked up?" you tease. your lover sighs, but a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"i'm afraid you have that kind of effect on me, darling," he admits. chortling softly, you draw him into another tender kiss— one of many tonight.

masterlist

star girl's final words: random lore drop for today is that i love the sound of music, and sylus's line is inspired by/adapted from gayorg's when he finds maria sitting alone at night (just before something good).

#★’s works #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads smut #lads sylus #sylus smut #zayne smut #li shen x reader #lnds xavier #xavier x reader #xavier smut #caleb xia #caleb smut #caleb x reader

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keepswingin · 2 months ago

Text

⸻ LEFT BEHIND ⸻

pairing: caleb x reader

genre: angst, romance, hurt/comfort, canon compliant, caleb character study

w/c: 6.7k

summary: finally catching up, ever decides to take what they believe has always been theirs. caleb refuses to lose her again.

cw: kidnapping, scenes of violence, character death (not of main characters), mentions of past trauma, implied torture, implied medical experimentation

a/n: this has been finished for so long i was just stalling because i didn't feel like editing but then i figured i should post it so that it doesn't end up in the rotting wip pile xD hopefully everyone enjoys!

Ever takes you.

It's less climatic than it should be - an off night, a thundering sky, a wrong turn down an alley you've taken too many times before. Easy to track down, really, because you've gotten comfortable. It's a rule you know above all else, to always be on guard, to never stay in one spot for too long, especially now, when you're poking around in places you shouldn't be, when Caleb is the one you can't quite let go.

But a storm swirls overhead and you turn down that same alley. You watch your shadow flicker over the bricks, listen to the sound of your footsteps, one after another. You think about how it's odd that the association has been so quiet lately, when it very much seems like it shouldn't be, with everything happening at once, with everyone trying to get their hands on aether cores no one will ever truly understand.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the world around you.

You blink. Glance up at the sky. Watch grey clouds move fast above you, promising rain. When you look in front of you, you notice more shadows than before, growing closer. Thick coats bundled around black face masks and leather gloves, eyes that shine under the quickly fading sun. More than you can handle, even as your hand inches towards your waistband, where your gun awaits.

Panic doesn't push you into action quite yet, but there is a part of you that thinks you should bring your hunter watch to life, that if you ping your location someone would probably be there in minutes to investigate. But was it worth the risk of putting someone else in danger? Was it worth -

Something sharp pricks at your neck and all at once your world tilts on its side.

A strangled sound escapes you as you stumble forward a step, and then fall, unable to hold yourself upright. Your knees scrape the pavement as your vision wavers and then wanes, your heartbeat thudding hard in your ears. The figures in front of you grow closer and then blur into a mass of darkness and you have no choice but to close your eyes, unable to make a sound, unable to move.

A cold hand roughly grabs your chin and turns your head, holding it for a long moment before letting go. Thunder rumbles from above. You can barely think. "We've been looking for you," a voice whispers, close to your ear. "Finally found you."

As everything around you finally begins to fade, you can't help but think about Caleb.

You wonder if he'll miss you like you'll miss him.

Caleb sits in the living room of a house that feels far too big and watches as rain slides down the window. His phone sits abandoned on the coffee table in front of him, silent and dark. He wonders if she had forgotten they had dinner plans, but there's a part of him that thinks she would never forget.

The storm is bad. The wind is dangerous, and the lightning is deadly. Storms are always worse in Skyhaven, but it's something he's learned to weather, though it was easier still when she was by his side, or tucked under the blankets in a bed that was no longer his. He reaches for the phone and brings up his messages with her, staring at the unread words.

He types out another message. Clicks send.

The storm rages on.

"Something wrong, Colonel?"

Caleb startles, looking away from the window. He doesn't remember the last time he hadn't heard someone approach, and the thought itself isn't something he wants to dwell on. He straightens and turns towards the voice, facing an older man with various medals decorating the crest of his suit. Caleb pauses for a moment and stares, brows knitting together. He doesn't remember his man's face, doesn't remember ever seeing him before. It wasn't odd for Ever to throw in new recruits when they felt like it, but he could usually pick them out of a crowd like the sore thumbs they were. Whenever they dared to add researchers to the mix, or people who had been around since Ever's start, Caleb was usually able to pick them out too.

This man...this man is an oddity.

"Did you need something?" Caleb asks, voice firm, eyes giving a quick scan to the rest of the room. It's only the two of them, the rest of the control room empty. Today's a training day for most of the Fleet. He doesn't usually need to be here for days like this one, but he didn't have anywhere else to go.

He had called her earlier. He had called her last night. He had sent more texts than he would like to admit, and still, there was nothing but silence in return. Paranoia was starting to creep in from the edges of his mind. He was minutes away from making his way over to her apartment.

The older man doesn't bother to stand at attention. It bothers Caleb, makes him think of the man more as an insurgent than a fellow comrade. If he was from Ever, he must've been a newer model, one that didn't have to go through the same rigorous training as the rest. "No," the man drawls, eyes flickering up to Caleb's face. "Just checking in with you, sir."

Caleb bristles and turns back around. "Don't bother me with such trivial matters again." There's another storm brewing on the horizon. It's been days. He doesn't know how much longer he can wait. Anxiety curls at his insides like a snake around his ribcage. What if she's hurt? What if he's failing her by waiting?

"As you wish, Colonel," the man replies, eerily even.

When Caleb doesn't hear him move, he uses his Evol to throw the door open. Wood splitters as the handle pushes through the wall. He hopes the man flinches. A few seconds later, he listens to the man's fading footsteps.

Alone again, Caleb releases a shaky exhale. One hand comes up and runs through his hair.

What if it was his fault she was missing?

Caleb stands in the middle of her apartment and looks around at a place stuck in a moment of serenity.

The door is broken at the hinges and everything is perfectly in place. There are no signs of struggle, no signs that she's been home anytime recently. There is no takeout in the trash, no dishes in the sink, no laundry piled by the washer, no blankets askew on her bed. There is no signs of life, no signs that someone has lived within this apartment, and Caleb feels his shoulders begin to shake, his heart beating faster.

Nothing is packed away in suitcases. She didn't decide willingly to leave him. But there hasn't been any contact, and his calls go straight to voicemail, and his messages are delivered but unread so someone is looking at her phone, or too sentimental to destroy it. Or maybe that's apart of evidence of her grisly murder and Caleb is already far too late and she's already gone and he's done nothing but waste time because he was trying to better and it didn't get him anywhere -

Caleb collapses to the floor, chest heaving, vision blurring. He - He needs to calm down. If he doesn't calm down the chip, the chip will make him - he can't forget, not now, not ever, not when he's already wasted so much time. He needs to calm down, he needs...he needs her. He needs her because he doesn't quite have himself anymore.

His breath catches in his throat. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't just sit here and let the chip -

Pain in his chest. Pain in his head, pain shooting through an arm far from human.

It hurts. Everything hurts and the world blurs.

No, he begs, anything but this, anything but now -

Caleb awakens in the middle of the floor of an apartment he doesn't truly remember.

Slowly, he pulls himself upright, a dull ache deep in his chest, a headache forming in the crevices of his mind. He looks blearily around the room, takes in the furniture, the color palette that isn't as dark and dreary as his own home. There's a stuffed animal from a claw machine sitting between the couch pillows, just out of reach.

Caleb carefully climbs to his feet and makes his way over to the stuffed animal, picking it up and holding it close. It looks like it's supposed to be a fluffy white dog, but it's missing the right fluff. A stray thought enters his head, that it would look cuter with a colored collar around its neck, and then he freezes.

I got a collar with a bell. I put it on the cat.

His fingers curl tighter around the plushie.

If I had that kind of bell right now, I should make you wear it, right?

"Fuck," he whispers, bits and pieces coming back to him. It slips through his fingers like sand, even as he desperately tries to hold onto something. He could forget everything else, but he could never forget her. He was...he was wasting time, wasn't he? He was...in her apartment and here for a reason. He needed to -

He walks towards her bedroom, stuffed dog still clutched in hand and places it carefully on top of her pillows. Then he bends down and reaches under her bed, fingers gazing across the box he's looking for. He tugs it out and pops it open, digging carefully through old and new memories alike. When he reaches the bottom, he finds what he's looking for and pulls it free.

She would never leave without it. Even if she hated him to the ends of the world, he knows she still wouldn't leave it. It's a small ring fit for a child, crafted out of fraying string and beads. He had given it to her before they were old enough to know what promise rings meant, and he thinks that's what it was always meant to be.

Tucking the ring away and pushing the box back under the bed, next he moves to her closet, picking through the clothes hanging there. Every outfit is in place besides her hunter uniform, and a quick glance at her dresser tells him she was in a hurry to leave last time she was here, makeup sprawled across the desk.

This...it's a start. He can do something with a start.

"I'm going to find you," he whispers, a promise to himself and the empty home around him.

The Hunters Association is only helpful after he threatens further action through the Fleet.

He thinks he would feel bad about it any other time but he doesn't, not when it's nearing a week and he still has no trace of her. They offer him everything they know and it gives him her last mission, and her possible last location. Her last mission had something to do with abandoned research labs out on the outskirts of Linkon, though it didn't turn up anything new and she had returned to the base empty handed.

She was dismissed by six o'clock that night. Security cameras show her walking out the front doors of the association five minutes after. She decides to walk home and takes a left down the street. One of her co-workers tells him that's the path she usually takes. Caleb rewatches the footage three times, trying to find anything abnormal but there's nothing and he is still left with more questions than answers.

He thanks them for the cooperation and tells them to call him - not the Fleet, him - if they hear anything about her or from her. He feels the distrusting eyes of her Captain burn into his back as he leaves, but he doesn't really care about that either. All he cares about is finding her.

He retraces her steps, forwards, backwards, until his feet hurt and his body aches.

When he finds no evidence the hard way, he returns to the Fleet and checks the cameras. The Fleet has access to nearly all the public cameras in Linkon, though not everyone in the city needs to know that. He's able to find her on one camera after she leaves the association, closer to her apartment, but he loses her when she ducks into an alleyway off the beaten path.

The cameras on either end of the alley have no footage, disabled from within.

Caleb digs deeper, searching the access files. If cameras are shut down it's usually for construction or security of a political figure, not for some random hunter choosing to walk down an alley. It's suspicious and makes him uneasy, the further he searches, the less files he finds. It's like the system has been wiped from the inside out. He stares at an empty file screen, where logs of usernames are supposed to be, and finds only his name staring back at him.

He deletes himself from the system and makes a copy of the footage to a spare flash drive before deleting that too.

Not for the first time, he wonders if she was taken because of him, because he dragged her too close to the sun. He tried to keep her out of it, tried to make her keep her distance, but she was stubborn and he was helpless to stop her when she made up her mind, unless he took extreme measures.

Maybe they weren't extreme enough.

He tucks the flash drive in his pocket and turns to leave, only to be met by the face of the older man from earlier in the week standing in the doorway. He's missing some medals, ones Caleb saw pinned to his suit last time, and his suit isn't as prim and proper as it should be. There's something dark in his eyes that Caleb can see even from across the room.

"Colonel," the man says happily, taking a step forward. "I've been looking for you."

"Have you?" Caleb asks, crossing his arms. "Because I haven't seen you anywhere."

The man laughs, raspy echoes bouncing off the walls around them. "I think we both know why," he responds, shooting Caleb a crooked smile. "Missions come and go."

He shifts, and his uniform moves with him. Caleb's eyes catch the symbol sitting branded against the cusp of his collarbone. Things begin to fall into place as soon as he starts lining things up. He had tried to protect her and all he did was put her right in the line of fire. There was no telling if she was even still alive if...if they were the ones who took her, finally, after all this time.

"Were you sent to keep an eye on me?" Caleb asks, and it's hard to keep his voice steady when so many different emotions are shooting through him all at once. It's hard to keep focused when he's worried about her, the chip, the deceiving man in front of him, the organization responsible for plucking him for death and giving him a second chance as something much different. "You've done a shit job," he continues, meeting the man's eyes defiantly.

"But I've done my job," the man whispers. "She's long gone by now - "

The man chokes. He reaches up to his throat, scratching his fingernails against his skin desperately.

Caleb doesn't release him. He only steps forward, and with each step he takes, the harder it is for the man to breathe. "Where. Is. She?" Caleb demands, squeezing tighter and tighter. The man's lips are nearly blue by the time he reaches him, eyes holding a deadly intent. "I have no problem killing you," he spits dangerously. "It's up to you if you want to ever breathe again."

He watches as the man's widen and a horrible sound escapes him, as if he's trying to speak. Caleb scoffs and releases him, taking pleasure in the way the man's body crumples pathetically to the floor, He struggles to breathe in as much oxygen as his body will allow. Caleb crouches down and waits a moment before using his Evol again, grabbing the man by the chin and jerking his head so that he faces him.

"Where is she?"

"I - I don't know!" he rasps, still struggling to breathe. "They - They didn't tell me!"

Caleb chuckles darkly. "Don't lie to me." His Evol tightens. The man cries out in pain. Bloodied marks begin to peel at his chin.

"Wait, wait, wait! I'm - I swear I'm not lying, I'm not lying! They - They sent me here to keep an eye on you, to - to make sure you wouldn't do anything they didn't account for! They were afraid of - "

"Afraid of what?" he whispers, sick of the man's blubbering already. He tightens his grip even more, sick of the games. He'll kill him even without getting the answers he's looking for, he doesn't mind, not when he has a feeling this man is omitting more than he needs to be, especially with his life on the line.

The man reaches out and grabs at Caleb's wrist, fingernails digging into the seam of his suit. Caleb goes to shake him off, disgust rolling in his gut, but before he can a strangled sob spilts from the man's battered throat. He pauses, arm hovering in the air. A tear slips from the man's eye. He doubts it's because he's suddenly grown a conscious, especially not if he's part of their -

"You," he cries, pain straining the tone of his voice. "They're afraid of you."

Caleb leans back and releases him.

The man falls to the floor once more, curling around himself, gasping. The noises he makes are unfitting of one from Ever, and he can't help but wonder if they've stopped paying attention to the newer ones because they finally have her. Guilt begins to claw its way up his throat, nearly weighing him down. He tried to protect her, he told them she wasn't worth the time, that he was better, that he would always be better. He tried to stop them, to keep them from ever being able to reach her.

And now they were sending unfinished soldiers out to the frontline.

Maybe they were right to be scared of him.

"Did they say anything else?" Caleb's voice is deceptively calm. He returns to his full height and readjusts his glove, straightening out the wrinkles. The man coughs and sniffles, barely turning his head in the other's direction.

"No, nothing. Nothing, I swear on my life."

Caleb is still and silent for a long moment. "That's not much to swear on."

The man doesn't have time to react as the bullet is lodged between his eyes, and smoke swirls from the end of Caleb's pistol as he returns it back to his side. He reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against the flash drive, answers just out of reach.

It's a bad idea.

A horrible idea, if Caleb stops and actually thinks about it, but it's the best way for him to get answers, even if he has to play dumb to get them. The door ahead of him tugs open, revealing a face he knows all too well. Something close to fear shivers down his spine.

The Professor stares back at him, eyes crinkling at the corners once he realizes who it is standing in front of him. "Caleb," he says, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here at this hour?" Caleb keeps his hands locked behind his back, a picture of posture, even if his insides say otherwise. It takes everything within in to keep a steady, uncaring tone to his voice.

"I was curious about when the next round of testing was going to start."

The Professor regards Caleb with a cautious stare, shifting. "Is there a reason why you're so eager to begin?" he asks carefully, eyes flicking across Caleb as though they're trying to find something strange or out of place.

Caleb plays the part well as he flexes his arm slowly, rolling his wrist. "My arm has been a bit slow on the uptake. I was hoping we could make some adjustments alongside everything else."

It's the right thing to say. Immediately, Caleb can see the Professor relax, like he's provided a suitable enough reason to be poking around about future Ever projects, especially when this isn't a place Caleb enjoys visiting. The Professor allows his lips to almost twitch into a small smile.

"Unfortunately, the next round has been momentarily delayed. A few of our scientists have been redirected to a different project."

"Oh?" Caleb hums, acting clueless. "Did they finally figure out a better resource?"

There's a gleam in the Professor's eye that Caleb doesn't like. "Something like that. I'll let you know as soon as we're able to begin the next stages. For now, just keep things running smoothly, Caleb."

Caleb gives a short nod and a quick duck of his head as the Professor bids him goodnight, the door shutting quietly behind him. Caleb can't get out of the place fast enough, heart thumping hard as he makes it across the street and down the first alley he sees. He stops and allows himself to lean his forehead against the cold brick, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

At the very least, he confirmed what he thought.

Ever did have her and they were already pushing other projects back because they knew she was the key to the lock that they were looking for. At least the Professor told him what he needed to know, even if he didn't realize it.

He talked specifically about the scientists that worked with Caleb, which meant he knew which places to check.

Four weeks.

Four weeks since he's last seen her face, heard her voice, held her close.

He craved her touch like a man would water in a desert, and he didn't know how to combat that feeling. Instead, he resorts to the one thing he knows he can do. He hits the research labs he knows best, and when those turn up empty, he begins going for the ones Ever tries to hide. When he runs out of those that he knows, he interrogates the next scientist he comes across.

Blood sticking to his palms, he heads for the next round of labs.

Night bleeds into the horizon.

He's so close. He knows he is.

He didn't know this lab existed.

The building is small and tucked behind some other abandoned buildings, nearly trespassing into the N109 Zone, windows broken and brick decaying into dust. It was the last lab on the list and so far Caleb was doubtful there was anything inside besides the hollow remains of what used to be, but he makes his way into the building anyway, using the force of his weight to push through the front door.

It cracks and falls apart as he steps over the threshold. The room before him is bare and covered in discarded papers, weathered with age, some shredded into tiny pieces. Plaster peels from the walls and there's a hallway tucked behind a fallen bookshelf towards the back of the room that he steps over.

Following the hallway brings him to a second room, this one smaller than the first. Furniture sits askew, wood splintering and cushions thrown to the corner, ripped in two. Thick layers of dust cover empty picture frames barely hanging onto their hooks. There's no signs of life, no signs of anyone having touched this house in years and Caleb's hopes fall deep into the pit of his stomach.

Did the scientist lie to him? Broken and bleeding and alie slips from between his split lips?

Anger is a close second to the disappointment, the cocktail of emotions beginning to stir deep within him. He's failed again. He can't do anything worthwhile, he never has, and now she's probably dead and gone and he couldn't even protect her when it mattered the most. What was the point of him coming back if nothing changed? If he was still just as useless as he was all those years ago, ignored and thrown aside as they reached for her every single time -

Caleb's eyes abruptly catch on the far wall.

There's dust everywhere. There is not dust on the corner of a larger picture frame that sits awkwardly towards the bottom of the wall, just enough to be out of place.

He walks over to the frame and stares at it for a long moment, and it's then that he sees the traces of fingerprints, sticking to the remains of the frame. There's a small indent within the wood.

Ever was smart. Caleb always tried to be smarter.

The smell of antiseptic burns his nose the further into the lab he gets, the sound of his boots echoing throughout the empty rooms ahead of him. It's too bright, and the sounds of different machines whirring and clicking sets him on edge. He hasn't seen a single person in this place that grows larger and larger after every step he takes, and yet his heart tells him he's in the right place.

She's here. He knows she's here.

There's tables with restraints in most of the rooms. Equipment, clipboards, computers. Needles awaiting their hosts in one, scalpels and hard cloth in another. He quickens his pace, heart pounding. If he thinks too much about this, about where he is and where he has been, the chip will take control. He can't allow that to happen, not now, and he tries his best to keep his breathing steady as he finally makes it to the end of the hallway, only to be met by an eye reader beside the door.

It's barely a sound decision to break it, bits of metal and glass shattering to the ground but the door opens as he does, spitting broken error codes in an calm voice as he pushes his way through. Several shocked eyes turn to face him as he sees the massive room before him, wires curling from the ceiling down to troves of different devices, to empty tables awaiting test subjects, to -

To her, lying on a lone table in the middle of the room.

Caleb's world freezes once he sees her. He thinks his heart stops.

She's restrained by metal around her wrists, ankles, and forehead, keeping her from looking around. Her chest heaves with frantic breaths and a scientist stands above her with a scalpel in hand, blood dripping from the blade. There's needle marks trailing alongside her neck, cuts across her arm, a gash along the curve of muscle in her leg, poorly healing, wrapped in bruising of purple and yellow. She's still in her hunter outfit, though it barely hangs onto her body, already so malnourished and small and if Caleb didn't know her like another side to his heart, he wouldn't know who he was looking at.

There's six scientists in room. The one standing above her goes to speak but Caleb throws him back with his Evol before he can get any words out, his back hitting the far wall with a loud crack of bone. He doesn't have a chance to scream but one of the other scientists does, scrambling to run, the others attempting to follow.

Caleb pulls out his pistol and takes aim, exhaling.

He blinks away what he thinks might be tears before holding the far door they all run to in place with his Evol, listening to the growing sound of their distraught cries as they look back at him.

Before everything, before this, maybe he would have felt something. Guilt, horror, disgust. But he is what they all fear, and this is clear in a way it has never been before as he sees the way they pull at the door like they can make it move, like they can change the outcome that's already been foretold. As they look at him like a monster, Caleb knows there was never a chance that he wasn't, not when it came to those he loved.

He shoots them one by one in quick succession before lowering his gun. Their bodies are piled on top of each other, motionless and silent, a scene out of a horror movie neither of them could ever finish when they were younger.

He pockets his weapon and turns back to where she's been abandoned, running over to her side.

It's worse up close. An Evol suppressor sits locked around her neck, skin underneath rubbed raw from struggling. Her chest is a mess of open wounds, some festering and others still bleeding, her skin mangled and messy. Caleb struggles to keep the chip from taking him away right then and there, heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. His eyes drag back up to meet her own, taking in her sunken cheeks, her pained eyes, the small cut below her lip.

With a shaking hand he reaches down and wipes his thumb across the cut, wiping the blood away. She flinches with the motion, even as her eyes stay locked with his, and he freezes, unsure what to do next. He wants nothing more than to hold her and never let go, to take all her pain and make it his, to stitch up the wounds and drag the needle along his own skin instead - anything to make it so that she doesn't look how she does now, like the life's been drained out of her, frail and scared and tiny even though she's always been anything but.

His lips almost tremble. He tries to say her name, to whisper it like a prayer that was never answered, but he finds that nothing comes out, that he is stuck standing over her with his hands half raised and useless when she needs him most. He couldn't protect her then, so how could he protect her now? Offer her comfort when his touch was something she couldn't even bear, broken and bleeding and all his fault?

He keeps his gaze on her as he uses his Evol to carefully dislodge the restraints before leaning over and removing them one by one. She flinches with every movement, each clatter of the metal as he throws it aside, fingers shaking by the time he reaches the suppressor. He's overly careful to keep space between them as he leans in further, not wanting to box her in, unable to get a good enough look and wanting to be sure of the angle before he gently pulls it from around her neck, the device beeping as it's deactivated.

It drops the floor unceremoniously. A part of him wants to use his Evol to snap it to pieces and another part of him wants to rip everything in this lab apart, to take whatever data they've gathered and destroy it once and for all, but no part of him wants to leave her.

He swallows and inches closer to her, one hand gingerly slipping under the curve of her back. He tries not to react to her flinch, but he's sure his face doesn't hide the emotions he feels well. "You're safe now," he whispers, nearly desperate. "I'm going to help you sit up. One, two - "

He pulls her up as gently as possible, other hand coming to a rest on the side of her waist, one of the only uninjured parts of her. His touch lingers as she cries out and squeezes her eyes shut from what he's sure is pure agony on her wounds, and wants nothing more than to take the sound away and replace it with something else.

He knows he should let go of her. He knows he should. But he can't.

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice as she slowly lifts her hand up and then rests it on his cheek. He grows still, eyes flickering back to her own. A tear slips down her cheek. And then another. "Caleb?" she whispers, and he - he remembers the last time she sounded like this, broken and tiny and crying and nothing but a failed experiment to everyone around them and - and -

Caleb nearly breaks himself when her other hand grapples for him, fingers tangling around the chain of his necklace. She looks down at the necklace and then back up at him, squeezing the pendant in a tightly closed fist full of new scars, and Caleb can't take it any longer.

He surges forward, arms wrapping around her, closing the distance between them until they're breathing the same air, feeling the beat of each other's heartbeats. A sob rattles deep in Caleb's chest when she starts to cry, and he squeezes her tighter, her arms sliding around him, his fingers knotting in her hair.

"This is my fault," she whispers unbidden, words muffled into the cusp of his shoulder. Caleb tucks himself closer, pressing soft kisses to the skin he can reach, shaking his head.

"No," Caleb murmurs, voice choking on another sob. "Not your fault." He's barely able to form sentences, let alone words, body shuddering with the force of emotions he struggles to keep under control. "Never your fault." A tear breaks free, slipping against her skin. "I'm sorry."

She hiccups, sniffles. He thinks maybe it could've been a laugh, if only they were somewhere else.

"You found me, Caleb," she says. "You found me."

"Always," he breathes, kissing her again. Her fingers dig into the cloth of his jacket, desperate to find skin and hold on tight. Caleb shifts slightly, nearly pulling her off of the table and into his arms but stopping when her breath hitches. Another kiss and he's tugging at her again, waiting until he feels her hold grow tighter before attempting to pick her up, her arms wrapped around him like it's where she's always belonged. He slides a careful hand down her back before settling his hold on her waist, the other under her knees, tight, secure. Safe. "Let's go home," he says, voice nearly catching and breaking.

He feels her nod against him.

And he finally takes her home.

You find that you like sleeping with the lights on, after.

You know it's stupid, really, when there's so many worse things than the dark, but it scares you in a way it never did before, fear curling around your insides until it was the only emotion you knew. You hated it, hated feeling so weak, hated feeling so stupid walking over to the light on the far side of the living room and flicking it on like clockwork every night at six o'clock sharp, always before the sun disappeared under the horizon.

Tonight is the same as any other, your finger pressing against the light switch before you breathe a small sigh of relief and return to the couch, watching idly as the weatherman tells you that it's going to storm all week, another thing you didn't fare too well with anymore.

It made it hard to be in Skyhaven, the storms. They were so, so loud up there, closer to the clouds. It reminded you of that lab, of the echo every single instrument made, of the way some machines made you scream and others made you beg. It's all just too much and for a long moment, you're back there, and there's thunder outside and you are trapped on a table with a scalpel above you and no way out -

The front door opens and closes.

Footsteps echo, growing closer and closer to you. You barely notice, trying to bring yourself back from a place you never want to revisit, and then there's a hand sliding across your back, squeezing tightly at your shoulder. Warm breath ghosts across your ear. "Missed you, pipsqueak," Caleb whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek and lingering for a long second before pulling away, ruffling your hair as he goes. "I'll start dinner."

You wait for his footsteps to fade before turning and watching as he starts opening cabinets and pulling out ingredients, stacking them in a neat pile on the counter, followed by pans and lids. He fills a pot with water and places it on the farthest burner, flicking on the stove. When he turns again, his eyes catch your own and he slows to a stop, watching you.

He's still in uniform. His hat is pristine and perfectly in place. He's preparing to make you dinner, as though he knows that your head isn't in the right place tonight. He looks at you like he already knows everything you could say. He's hard lines to soft edges that never quite disappeared, and you find yourself moving off the couch and towards him.

He waits until you're close enough before opening his arms and wrapping you into a hug, reading your mind once more. You exhale and the sound shudders through you. The twisting of your gut and shadows of your mind go with it.

Caleb presses a kiss to your hair. He waits for you to speak first and for a long moment you simply follow the rise and fall of his chest. Words swell in your chest before they finally decide to spill from you, whispering across the silence between you.

"I think I love you."

The water in the pot begins to boil, soft pops echoing from the stove. A soft chuckle rumbles through Caleb's chest. One of his hands intertwines with your own. "Popping the question so soon, pipsqueak?" he jokes quietly, and you can't help but roll your eyes, gently shoving him with your shoulder. He holds onto you tighter in retaliation.

"I'm serious," you say.

"So am I," he returns, and when you turn your head to look at him, he's smiling down at you like you're the sun. "I've always wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." A pause. His eyes, staring right through you. "I love you too."

You feel something inside you start to mend with his words. The sounds of the past are eased away with the sound of his voice, the bitter cold biting at you washed away by warmth. His words settle deep in your chest and easily make a home where you thought only an empty chasm remained.

You close the distance between you, your lips meeting his. He sinks into you, smiling, and you pull him closer, kiss him deeper. You think this is what love must feel like, what it must taste like, what it must look like. You think this is what devotion is, what your hopes and dreams are, what you've been missing for what feels like your entire life.

You think this is home, and that it's never once been a place, because it's always been a person.

It's always been him.

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #lads caleb #lads x reader #lads caleb x mc #lads caleb x reader #lnds #caleb love and deepspace #caleb angst #lads mc #lnds caleb #lads angst #love and deepsace fanfic #lads fanfic #keepswingin writes #mine

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valyvinny · 5 months ago

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╰┈➤ ❝ Caleb┆彡 My fault ❞

PAIRING : Caleb x reader (afab) GENRE : Angstyyyy WORD COUNT : 1083 TAGS : mentions of murder, attempted murder, mentions of blood, little to no comfort, mentions of surgery, reader gets hurt A/N : Hellloooo. I can't believe I chose to write ANGST for my very first written piece here. But after going through Caleb's cards, I felt like it was necessary. I'm probably gonna follow this up with something lighter. So enjoyyyy :)

Viper strikes and injures you, Caleb is furious.

Red. So much red. His otherwise crisp and pristine uniform now disheveled and drenched crimson with your blood.

Patients, doctors and nurses alike sneak glances at him whispering to each other, too afraid to look him in the eye. What could possibly bring the usually calm and composed colonel to the hospital in such panic and disarray?

Caleb lets out a shaky breath. He tries to will his hands to stop trembling, tries to calm his racing heart. But all he sees is flashes of you. Your precious face, pale as a ghost, the giant gash in your abdomen from where Viper’s blade sliced through you, your teary eyes. He clenches his jaw. He promised. He promised.

He was supposed to be there. It’s his fault. He promised to stay by your side at all times. It’s his fault. He wasn’t there. It’s one thing if you were hurt in Linkon. But it’s an entirely different thing that you got hurt right under his nose, in Skyhaven, his territory. How could he have been so careless?

Caleb paces up and down the hospital corridor, silently praying that you were okay. That you were alive. You’d been in surgery for hours now and with each minute stretching agonizingly by, the less optimistic he became. What if….no, he couldn’t bring himself to imagine the worst. He couldn’t fathom a world without you. It was simply incomprehensible. The grief would tear him inside out until nothing but a hollow shell of his person would remain.

You were his entire universe. You were his every waking thought, every breath, the only reprieve in his entire wretched existence. Without you, there was no rhyme nor reason.

“Sir” a voice calls out to him

Liam stands opposite the Colonel, saluting him.

“Sir we’ve located Viper, he’s eastbound to-“

Liam gets cut off by the doors of the operation theater opening. From it, the lead surgeon emerges, clad in a pair of blue scrubs. Caleb motions for Liam to stop.

“Later”, he says as he rushes to receive news about you.

“How is she?” He asks.

Part of him just doesn’t want to hear it, but he needs to know. He needs to know if you’ve made it.

“The surgery was challenging. She lost a lot of blood. The cut was quite extensive and we had to perform a-“

“Just cut to the chase” Caleb quipped through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin.

“She’s stable for now. We’re going to be keeping her under observation for the next couple of days to sure the wound heals well and doesn’t contract any infection. We’ve transferred her to the ICU. But I have to warn you Colonel, it might take a while for her to recover.”

Caleb heaves a sigh of relief. He feels his nose prickle and eyes sting. A lump forms in his throat. He wants to cry. He wants to so badly just drop to his knees and sob his heart out. But he can’t, not with so many eyes on him.

Nothing matters but the fact that you’re alive. If recovery takes a while, so be it. He’ll be with you through every step of the way. He’ll never leave your side. Not again. Not with such dangers lurking in every corner. He won’t fail you again.

“Can I see her?” He asks. His voice feeble.

The surgeon looks at him with pity.

“Yes of course. But you might want to change out of your outfit colonel. I’m sure we have a spare pair of scrubs you can wear”

Caleb nods curtly at him “Yes I believe that would be appropriate”

Caleb is in the ICU, now donning a pair of scrubs. He looks comical, the hem of the scrub pants just barely reaching his shins. He’s sure if he moves an inch, the top would ride up his torso. In other circumstances, this unfortunate attire would have reduced you into a fit of giggles. But not now.

Now you lay in a hospital bed, unconscious. The harsh white lights of the ICU casts a pearlescent glow, making you look almost angelic.

Caleb leans down next to your bed. His heart clenches. You look peaceful in your slumber, a sharp contrast to how you were merely hours ago. The only evidence of the incident being the large bandage dressed across your abdomen in place of the gash.

He takes a second to brush his fingers against your cheek, cradling your face in his hand gently. Tears well up in his eyes and this time, he let them fall, in the safety of the curtains surrounding your bed.

Fat tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to muffle the sound of his sobs with his hands. He only felt shame. Guilt. What kind of Colonel was he if he couldn’t protect the one thing, the only person that ever mattered?

As his form wracks with sobs, Caleb feels a hand wrap feebly around his wrist.

“Caleb…”

You were awake, barely so, your eyes half lidded as you fought the fatigue that threatened to consume your body.

“Caleb I’m sorry” you whisper

Caleb quickly dries his tears on his sleeve, composing himself.

“Don’t be pipsqueak. It’s not your fault” he says, kissing your palm. He flashes you a smile. But you know it’s disingenuous, that he's hiding behind a facade.

“Get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up”

You nod before your eyes close shut and it’s not long before your chest begins to rise and fall rhythmically, pulling you again into deep sleep.

“Sir” Liam says, approaching the Colonel.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but if we don’t intercept Viper soon, we may lose him”

Caleb grits his teeth. The very mention of that bastards name makes him seethe with rage.

He spends one last minute stroking your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, before heading out.

One thing remained clear to him. Viper is going to suffer the most excruciating death possible. He’s going to crush every single one of his bones individually, make him bleed until he lay in a crimson pool of his blood, torture him until he begs for death as his mercy. That was his promise to you.

#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lads #l&ds #lads caleb #l&ds caleb #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #Lads x reader #L&ds x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lnds #loveanddeepspace

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miscfandomwrites · 3 months ago

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Konig is definitely anxious in some way. Someone doesn't wear a mask constantly just to look cool or scary (that's definitely part of it), and I do believe the headcannons about him have some severe facial scarring, especially the ones across the face and messing with his mouth a bit.

Does lead me to think that he definitely does not want to go out into public, so when you somehow manage to drag him out he has a medical mask on and his hood up, walking right behind you the entire time as you're wondering why the mall in suddenly less crowded than earlier.

Don't get me wrong though, he's happy when you're in his sight and reaching distance, yet the second he can't find you in the mall he panics.

You're his person, his safe place, and he's got more than enough enemies that would happily take advantage of you just to hobble him in the field.

Besides anxiety, he's got amazing self-control. He's got anger issues, he's cocky, his work personality is much different than his home because he needs to build the walls back up so he doesn't get hurt, so you don't get hurt.

So when you're kidnapped right out from under his nose in the mall by 141 trying to see if you know anything, he's well past anxiety and self-discipline.

He's a Colonel for a reason, after all. He'll lead armies into hell if it means getting you back in his arms.

#miscfandomwrites #cod x reader #cod #cod modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #konig #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig x you #konig x reader #he will kill for you and you know it.

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theseinfernalangels · 4 months ago

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Need You Now - Brennan Sorrengail 🛡️

Synopsis: The thing about surviving near-death experiences is that you’ll always remember them vividly. For you and Brennan, unfortunately, that’s just about every other night.

WARNING for night terror-esque flashbacks and something akin to a panic attack from both characters. Take care of yourselves, lovelies. Unspecified time — probably sometime during Fourth Wing.

A/N: Finally something for our Lieutenant Colonel! Sorry it had to be kinda angsty, but I made a list of ideas for myself and this is just something that I feel like writing right now. I am a Brennan girl 4 lyfe.

Running. Running is all you can do. All you can afford. In this place, with these people, the only way to keep yourself alive is to run.

Blood roars in your ears, runs down your arms, but moves what feels so sluggishly through your veins. It’s not natural. You’re running faster than the wind can blow, but your heart ceases to beat. That shouldn’t be possible. None of this should be possible. You glance down before pausing in your steps entirely.

You cannot feel the blood rushing through your veins, you realize, because all of it is gushing from a gaping, gorey wound in your stomach, the red essence seeping into your flight leathers like a rising tide and drowning your senses.

Your mouth doesn’t move, but you hear a high-pitched shriek ring through your ears followed by a feral roar that echoes throughout your mind.

“Saintly One!”

Falling. All you feel is yourself falling, falling, falling into a pit of inky darkness as your senses are choked and wrung with a coppery, metallic scent.

There’s blood. So much blood. All you can see, smell, taste is –

Your thoughts are cut off by another ear-splitting roar.

“Wake up, Saintly One!”

It’s dark. It is so very dark, but it is not black. It’s wine-red, the color of –

“He needs you now! Awaken!”

He needs you now —

He needs you now.

⋆｡°✩

You jerk awake with a sharp gasp, your lungs heaving and gulping down the air they so desperately need. Sweat drips down your brow, and your trembling hands flit around for something to grab hold of – someone to grab hold of.

Brennan. You need Brennan.

You flip yourself over, searching frantically for the familiar head of russet curls that graces the pillow next to yours every night. Of course, he is right next to you, but he too is twitching restlessly in his sleep.

He needs you now, too.

You watch as Brennan lets out a small whimper of pain and fear – so much unlike the man you’re now used to. That sound can only mean one thing, though: He’s reliving the Battle of Aretia for the thousandth time, up to the moment where he’d gone completely limp and pale as death in your arms.

Your heart races, and you feel tears burning at your waterline, but you’re used to this routine now after so many nights of mutual terror. You suck in a breath, hold it for a moment or two, and then exhale shakily.

“Bren,” you whisper faintly. “Brennan. Wake up.”

The trembling man does not stir, but his quiet whimpers increase to hushed murmurs of nonsense. Your heart twists at the sight. During his waking hours, Brennan is the strongest man you’ve ever seen, both in body and in spirit. He’s an absolute powerhouse, but when he’s at the mercy of his own memory…You feel like you’re watching a child hiding from a thunderstorm.

“Brennan,” you try again, a little louder. You reach a still-shaky hand over to his panicked form; you hesitate for a moment, your hand paused mid-motion above his body. You don’t want to scare him further, but you know after years of this that a simple call of his name most likely won’t work.

You suck in another breath, hold it, exhale, and lightly trace a finger over one of his biceps. “Brennan.”

Immediately, he jolts upright with a sound that sounds like a choked scream and whips towards you, hackles raised and eyes narrowed as if he’s staring in the face of an enemy. You slowly withdraw your hand and keep your gaze level with his stern look, fear clouding the edges of his irises.

“It’s just me,” you whisper, your voice still quivering from the sheer intensity of your own nightmare. “Just another stupid dream again.”

You both stare at each other for a few more moments, your chests heaving in an uncanny rhythm that has almost been perfected with the amount of times this very situation has happened. Brennan blinks a few times, his eyes slightly glazed and unfocused.

“It’s just me,” you coax him, slowly opening your arms to show him that you’re unarmed and safe. “Just me, love. You’re safe, Bren. You’re alive.”

A few more beats pass before his form deflates and he sighs softly, scrubbing a hand over his face. He looks back down at you, still sprawled on the bed, before slowly lowering himself into your arms. His head comes to rest silently right next to yours. You tuck yourself into him and run your thumb up and down his forearm.

“Easy,” you murmur. “Breathe. In four, hold four, out four, remember? You wanna do that with me?”

His eyes struggle to find yours for a second, but he eventually succeeds and nods once. His fingers clumsily clasp yours, and the next ten minutes consist of the two of you tangled in each other, finding your lost breath and grounding the both of you back into reality.

Some time passes before he finally speaks, his voice hoarse from disuse. “C’mere, angel.” He lightly grasps your waist and hoists your body on top of his, wrapping his strong arms around you and tucking your face into his chest. Your ear rests right on top of his heart, which still pounds furiously, but not enough to frighten you. His calloused fingers dip into your hair, running through the strands absentmindedly. It grounds the both of you at once; your weight presses into him, and his fingers rub against your scalp in a way that seems unnecessarily gentle.

It doesn’t take any words between the two of you to know that both of you had the same recurring dreams as usual. Brennan takes a few more seconds to breathe before he speaks again.

“How long were you awake before I woke up?”

Your eyes feel heavy, so you shut them without protest. You focus on his slowed breathing for a second before you respond.

“Maybe a minute or two. Couldn’t tell.”

He swears softly under his breath before you feel yourself moving again, your body sliding against his until your head is by his shoulder. His lips, slightly dry from dehydration, brush against your temple lightly.

“”M sorry, angel,” he soothes you, rubbing little figure-eights into your back. “You alright? No pain?”

When the nightmares first started, you’d sworn to him that you could feel the phantom pain of a knife in your gut where the original wound had been, even though it was Mended not long after you’d received it. Brennan, the sweetheart, would always press his hand to your stomach to show you that there was no wound to heal – no wound at all, save for a jagged scar on your abs.

You make a small sound of disapproval. “No, I…” You falter when you taste something warm and metallic in your mouth, a faint sting throbbing at your mouth. You freeze, eyes snapping wide open.

Blood. All you can see, smell, taste is –

Your panicked thoughts are cut off once more when Brennan’s hand sweeps under your chin, his fingers brushing against your skin as he lifts you out of the crook of his neck. His amber eyes meet yours again, and then soften once he glances at your mouth.

“Oh, angel,” he sighs, swiping his thumb against your lips. You feel a warm sensation flow through you before the sting ceases. You’d bitten your lip open, you realize; probably sometime during your nightmare, trying to muffle your terrified noises out of pure habit. And your boyfriend, like the good man he was, Mended it for you.

You dab at your mouth lightly, your arm now smeared with a dark, coppery stain. “...Thanks.”

You lay back down; you barely pay any mind to the blood in your mouth as Brennan resumes his previous ministrations to calm your racing heart. The two of you go quiet again. For such a terrifying night, this has honestly been one of the more okay scenarios. You wince as you remember the night a few months ago where Brennan had coaxed you awake, and you responded by punching him in the face.

“It is better to remember the humorous times over the scariest ones,” you hear your dragon, Sciath, rumble softly. “I apologize for rousing you so abruptly, Saintly One.”

You make a little noise in return. “No,” you reply, “I’m glad you did. I’d rather have one of us awake to get the other out, you know?”

You pause. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, Sciath.”

The dragon makes a little motherly tutting noise. “Come now,” she chides. “We’ve gone over this. It is not your fault any more than it is the Restored One’s. I was awake, anyway.”

Brennan’s fingers graze your waist. “Sciath?”

You hum in confirmation. “Yep. Marbh?”

He shakes his head. “Bastard is still asleep. I think he’s used to me by now.”

You laugh softly, grateful for a less-than-frightened moment among all this chaos. “That makes two of us.”

A beat. Four beats. Eight.

Brennan hums and smooths your hair over with a practiced palm. “No talking about it?” You sigh, dipping your head further into his neck. “Nope.”

You can almost hear him smile. “Got it.”

There’s no use in talking about what went on in both of your minds. The two of you had woken up like this so many times that it became easier to guess what you both were dreaming about, what you relived constantly in your memory.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to fall back asleep,” you mumble. You feel absolutely exhausted, and you feel sluggish, but there’s no way for you to fall back asleep so easily when all you can see when you close your eyes is red, red, red.

“Me either,” he murmurs, his breath hitting your temple. “You just wanna lay here for a bit, angel? See what’s going on outside later?”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

You’d trade a lot to never have to live like this; to wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, writhing in pain that doesn’t even exist while your boyfriend does the same right next to you.

You would not, however, trade anything for the way he holds you – strong and tight against his chest, heartbeat now strong and steady, his fingers sinking into your hair like it’s second nature – not for the world, and then some.

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