#red room is caleb's

[imageingrunge]

Updating Vlad's place

[kykyonthemoon]

Red Stains

You've got a new lipstick and can't wait to test out the color,

on his face.

✧ — Character x F!Reader ✧ — 16+, MDNI, suggestive themes, established relationships, soft fluff, touchy, marking ✧ — Requested by Wytchie Pie.

✿ Masterlist

✿ Request a fic

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

While Caleb was in the living room playing his video game, you walked in with a new lipstick. It was hard not to tease him more when you saw how committed he was to the game. Reaching him from behind the couch, you put your arms around his neck and raised his chin to meet your gaze. You leaned down to give his left cheek a kiss. Then you hurried out of the room.

Though a little taken aback, Caleb simply grinned to himself and carried on playing the game. Not even your scarlet lipstick on his cheek did he notice.

After a while, you returned to the room. You interrupted his match again like the first time and gave him another kiss, this time on the right cheek. With a scowl, Caleb warned you: "Don't be naughty."

But you did not listen. You went into the bathroom again to apply another layer of lipstick. When would he find out that his face was covered with your lip stains? He had such a cute and goofy expression. Should you not tell him, would people laugh at him when he got out at last?

Being laughed at was his punishment. For playing games all afternoon and paying no attention to you. You went back to the living room, sneakily behind the sofa again and encircled him with your arms...

All of a sudden, he grabbed your wrist, bending you over. He leaned his head back to touch your lips and locked it with a kiss. Surprised, you leaped back and attempted to flee. After hurling the console onto the chair, Caleb got up, circled the couch, and seized you.

His hands clamped around your waist, making you turn to face him. “I told you not to be naughty.”

As you looked at the screen with the large word DEFEATED displayed, you laughed. In response, you said:

“You lost because you're terrible at this game. It's not my fault.”

“You're still in the mood to tease me?”

Caleb made an angry face, but all you saw was a cute guy with two lipstick marks on his face. He still held you tightly in his arms to prevent you from escaping. He gently lifted you up so that your bare feet rested on his.

“You tried the lipstick marking thing on my face again, didn't you”

"How do you know that?"

“I can smell it.” Caleb smirked. He could position you against the couch with style in only one spin.

“Caleb?” You were a bit surprised. He still refused to let you go but pressed closer to you.

“Make amends.” Caleb said, his voice a bit coy, making you blush. Normally, it's you who wheedle.

"What kind of compensation do you want?..." You hesitated, but you had good reason to be concerned. Because as soon as you finished speaking, you felt a bit regretful when Caleb suddenly attacked you with a passionate kiss.

When he finally let go to let you catch your breath, he rubbed your head, causing your hair to go untidy. Your fingers still lingered on his shoulder, and your red lips seemed to be inviting for another kiss. Caleb could not let you win that quickly. He stepped back and said:

“Everything always goes your way. That's how it's been all along since childhood. I can't keep spoiling you forever.”

Feeling a little let down, you gazed into his eyes. Caleb's face had brilliant lipstick traces that your fingertips touched.

"Are you sure?" You inquired, and then you hurried to put both of your arms around his neck without waiting for him to respond. You raised your torso and enveloped his waist with your legs. All he could do was hold you, and then you would attack him with powerful, determined kisses.

Caleb laughed while you pulled your lips away long enough to take a breath. He was defeated, again and again. After all, he would always let you win.

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

You finished your makeup that day with a little red lipstick on the lips. Satisfied with the new lipstick and cosmetics Tara had just recommended, you glanced in the mirror. But when you turned to Xavier,you saw him dozing off on the edge of the bed. He was still seated, but his back was resting on a stack of pillows and his hand was gripping the plush bunny named Bunbun.

You intended to wake him up, but as you approached, his innocent face and soft snoring made you want to give him a little playful nudge. You placed yourself on the edge of the bed, as quietly as possible so as not to wake him up. Then you pressed your lips to his cheek, leaving a red lip stain.

Leaning back slightly, you waited for Xavier to stir, but he remained deep sleeping. You impatiently placed a kiss on his other cheek. Then one on the forehead, another on the chin... Just like that, soon light and dark lipstick smears were all over his face.

You gulped back a laugh. He was certain to become uneasy upon awakening. Unexpectedly, you were taken by surprise as well. His eyes were barely open when his fingers snatched your wrists and pushed you against the bed.

"Xavier?" You let out a startled exclamation. You felt his body pressing on yours, immobilizing you. He could easily lock both of your wrists together, forcing them above your head and holding them there with only one hand.

You raised your gaze to Xavier's face which was covered by lipsticks. Gradually, he opened his eyes. He was still drowsy, but he was fully aware of the damage you had just caused to his heavenly face.

“I can't believe you sneaked up on me while I was sleeping.”

You giggled, looking apologetic: “I'm sorry. Because… you look so cute when you sleep!”

Xavier pretended not to hear your apology. He tightened his hold on the area that was holding your wrist, and you let out a quiet cry. His other hand freely explored your face and his fingers paused at your lips.

"Your lip color has changed."

Xavier was always sensitive to even the tiniest changes in you. It gave you the impression that he was concerned about you and valued you. You gave a nod.

“And you brought my face out to test your new lipstick?” Xavier questioned. You became aware that his body was gradually dropping and encroaching onto yours.

"I've already... apologized," Your cheeks heated with his breath.

"That doesn't count." Xavier gave a sulky reply. "There will be an equal cost for you to pay."

"H-Huh?

Xavier leaned down and pressed his cool lips to your cheek, leaving a scorching, tingling trail.

“One here.” Xavier said, then he proceeded to kiss the other cheek. “Another here.”

“X-Xavier…” You made an effort to resist and came very close to escaping him. But your wrists were held even tighter. The other hand Xavier was holding around your neck tensed as well. 

"Be good!" Although his voice was still very gentle, you caught his impatience, almost like a command.

And you lied still, submitting to his authority as he inked your face with his own lip marks. On the forehead, nose, cheeks and chin. He planted a kiss on your face in precisely the same spot and sequence as you had just given him. You started to get a sense that Xavier wasn't actually asleep, and you were naive to fall right into the trap that was set up by his innocent expression.

At the same time, you relished the sensation of being beneath Xavier, his body heat enveloping you, and the sound of his breathing in your ear blended with every kiss.

The last kiss just ended. As you struggled to catch your breath, you said:

“A-Are you done? Can you…Can you let me go now?…”

The truth was, you never want him to let go. Xavier simply glanced at you and felt your emotions. He lifted your chin again so you could look into his eyes, while he gently parted your lips with this thumb.

“Did I say I would let you go?”

Your eyes seemed to be blurred by the heat between you both. You arched your head back a little, longing for his lips to meet yours once more. Xavier smiled triumphantly as his finger lightly slid across your lips, smearing a small amount of your lipstick out.

“You should have known there is a price for waking me up like that.”

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

That evening, while you were getting ready for the date, Rafayel showed up. He took a seat next to you and began fiddling with the makeup items on the table. His long fingers stroke the blush in the box, he waved it in the air, enjoying the color in his hand.

"Look at this. My hands are now the same color as your cheeks.”

You turned to look at Rafayel. He gave you a mischievous smile. With his other hand, he gently lifted your chin.

“Let me help you,” said Rafayel. You obediently sat still so he could apply the pink blush that was already on his hand to your cheeks, although you were certain that they were already pink even before applying makeup.

"Very lovely. The peach hue draws attention to your smile.” Rafayel exclaimed. "Even though you don't need makeup to look beautiful."

You smiled heartily. His lips were always so sweet, giving you more confidence. I had never seen yourself more beautiful than when you were next to him. Even without saying it out loud, the way he looked at you always made you feel like you were the most exquisite painting his eyes had ever laid upon.

“I'm almost done. All that's left is lipstick." You said while taking out a brand new lipstick from your purse. “Tara said this color would go very well with me.”

Rafayel took the lipstick from your hand and looked at its color through the transparent glass cover. Then he gave it back to you. “Go ahead and try it on.” He spoke excitedly, as if he was the one using this lipstick.

You twisted the cap open, applied a layer and pressed your lips together to spread the lipstick evenly. “Mmmh.” Before you could look closely, Rafayel anxiously put his palm on your cheek and drew you in.

“Let me see it...” Rafayel's fingertips playfully caressed across your face and ears while you held your breath. "Red. It truly does fit you perfectly.”

His thumb traced a line down the border of your lower lip, giving you a ticklish feeling. You could not focus because of how near his face was. You gently closed your eyes, then when he was too preoccupied staring at your lips, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“You?!” Rafayel was startled. He withdrew his hand and touched the place you just kissed. A scarlet set of lips like a blossoming flower revealed itself on Rafayel's porcelain face.

"If you don't let me see my lipstick color in the mirror, I'll borrow your face to try it on." You laughed in response.

“What do you mean by that?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Rafayel was left with another lip mark on his cheek, just below the previous one. His eyebrows frowned slightly. His cheeks and ears were scarlet, he couldn't hide his embarrassment anymore.

“That is excessive.” Rafayel mumbled, yet behind that salty expression was a wry smirk. You applied another layer of lipstick on your lips to replace the first layer that had mostly faded. You commented:

“This lipstick tastes somewhat as sweet as candy.”

Hearing that, Rafayel immediately raised his face. He held your chin tightly in his hand and brought it very close.

“Really? I'd like to give it a shot as well.”

After saying so, he put his lips to yours. Before you could protest, you felt a slight pain in your bottom lip as you opened your eyes wide.

“R-Rafayel!” You gasped when he left your lips. Your lipstick was lightly on his lips as he licked it lightly.

“It does taste like candy!”

His mysterious expression confused you. You covered your mouth with both hands and reprimanded: "You just bit me!"

With a sly smile, Rafayel tipped his head and said, "I was only curious to taste your lipstick. Then, I realized something…”

Suddenly he came close to you again. His hand pulled yours down to reveal your red face and slightly swollen, color-smeared lips. He spoke again:

“You taste sweeter than any candy!”

Unsure of how to react, you observed Rafayel get back up. You followed him because you assumed he was going to head to the restaurant that you two had reserved. Just as you were getting up from the chair, Rafayel abruptly pulled you back and seated you entirely on the dressing table.

"Where are you going?" He asked while burying his face in your shoulder and hair.

“To our date?… We're already late…”

Rafayel's dissatisfaction was evident from his facial expression. He glanced back at you, his finger tracing across your lips as if he was painting a picture himself.

"The plan has changed."

He kissed you once more, and this time, the long kisses were broken up by little, painless bites that made you weak in the knees and found it hard to breathe. You pushed Rafayel back a little so he could slow down while leaning your back against the frigid mirror. However, the more you did so, the more he devoured your red lips.

“We can save that restaurant for another time… For now, let's stay here, okay?”

He said between rapid breaths. You nodded slightly. How could you refuse, when all your luscious lips wanted was him?

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

During Zayne's lunch break, you stayed in his office to make sure he ate enough and on time. It could also be said otherwise; it's him who made sure you're full and rest well before returning to the headquarters.

After lunch, Zayne sat reading a book on the sofa. You thought you would get out your new lipstick and give it a little play since you had nothing better to do. You barely learned the fundamental techniques and were too busy fighting Wanderers to wear makeup frequently. But the other day, Tara had just given you a new lipstick and said that this color would look good on you.

You put on a light layer. Since Zayne's workplace lacked a mirror, you turned to him and inquired, "How do I look?"

Zayne merely gave you a quick glance before turning back to the book.

"Alright."

"Alright?!" You said it again. By that, what did he mean? It was "okay" rather than beautiful? Yet, he couldn't even look at you for more than a second. You were a little hurt. You twisted the lipstick cap again and applied another layer.

"What about this?" You inquired with him once more. However, Zayne quickly responded with a "Mmhhh" to end the conversation. You turned your gaze from him to the book he was holding. It took away all of his attention, which he should be giving to you.

Refusing to give in to such an inanimate object, you turned completely to Zayne, pulled him back and pressed your lips to his cheek.

You released your grip, revealing your trophy — a vivid red lipstick mark — on his icy face. However, he continued to glare at you without saying anything. His hand turned the book to a new page and as if nothing had happened, he ignored you once again.

“You…” You let out a sigh. You knew he had his own concerns, but were angry at the thought that you were not important, not attractive enough for him, unlike a medical book. You gave it another go, kissing him very close to the lips this time.

Zayne breathed heavily. Although the expression on his face remained unchanged, you caught his hands holding the book trembling slightly.

“There is a medical appointment that I must attend in an hour. This kind of abuse on my face is unacceptable."

You felt like you had won when he closed the book and put it back on the table.

“Okay, let me tidy it up for you.” Grinning, you got up to grab the tissue box.  But you were drawn back by a strong force that very moment. Suddenly you found yourself sitting completely on Zayne's lap. His sinewy arms encircled your waist securely.

“If you want to leave marks on me…” You heard Zayne whispering so softly from behind. “You need to be a little more considerate.”

You sat still and let Zayne turn you around, facing him. Your heart was beating very fast. At this rate, before another patient came to see him, he would have to treat you first. You tried to stay calm in front of him and questioned:

“More considerate? Do you recommend any other spot then?” Your hand briefly touched Zayne's cheek before descending gently. You stared intently, lifting his chin. As you cuddled on his lap, little against the toned shoulders he covered beneath his shirt, Zayne shifted both of your legs so they were more comfortably positioned on the sofa.

Your fingertips paused at his neck, verging on his Adam's apple. You caught it moving slightly. “Or this spot?”

Zayne was clearly making every effort to maintain the residual calm on his face. His eyes were staring at you intensely from behind his glasses, as though he was granting you permission to do that.

And you leaned up to place a kiss there.

You heard a cough come from Zayne. He looked at you, extremely miserable. But you put your hand on the lipstick mark on his neck as if admiring another of your trophies. It did not stop there. You still wanted more, wanted to know what he would do if you went a little further...

Your index finger slid from his neck to his chest and stopped just above his heart.

“Doctor Zayne, your heart is racing.”

Your laughter was as crisp as sunshine in the room, increasing the temperature. Zayne took your hand, neatly holding it in his scarred one. He spoke, but you caught his trembling even though he was very discreet:

“Can you... cure me then?”

Your finger gently tapped on his chest. "Of course." You would always like it when Zayne let me be in charge, asking you to take care of him little by little. His hand loosened slightly, allowing you to freely find the buttons of his shirt and undo them.

Then, you put another crimson mark on his bare chest.

[thebramblewood]

A Very Vampiric Dinner Date, Part 2/3

Previous / Next

Featuring Seth and Morana by @bloomingkyras, Bria, Christoph and Daniella by @ruthplaysthesims, Madeleine by @plasmafruittree, Fawzia by @simvanie, Tiberius by @someone-elsa, and Annika by me!

With special appearances by Erwin Pries, Cassandra Goth, Don Lothario, Johnny Zest, and Gunther Munch! Thanks to everyone in the community who offered suggestions. (And as a big fan of @gunthermunch's Lilith/Gunther pairing, I had to make their paths cross in my own way!)

Helena: That… was… incredible.

Lilith: I told you it would be. And now for the main course. Don’t worry. They’re all volunteers, I promise. They’re required to sign consent forms and everything. We’ve got all sorts to choose from — conspiracy nuts… occult enthusiasts… fetishists… burnouts… and adorably pitiful idiots.

Helena: Wait a minute. I think I went to high school with that g-

Lilith: Focus, Helena! If they’d prefer, we can make them forget they were ever even here — though some of them do like to remember.

Helena: [nervously] But they’ll live?

Lilith: Regrettably, vampire business owners are not above the law. If anyone died, they’d have blood on their hands too, and they wouldn’t hesitate to tear you limb from limb for inconveniencing them with all that red tape. They fatten us up on appetizers so we pose less of a risk.

Helena: Caleb?

Caleb: [reluctantly] If you’re going to drink from humans, this is the safest way to do it.

Helena: But you won’t?

Caleb: Abstaining is my decision, but you have to make your own. No one should pressure you into doing something you don’t want to.

Helena: [meekly] I think I want to try.

Lilith: Good. I booked us a private room — in case you’re feeling shy about feeding in public.

Caleb: Well, this seems like my cue to leave.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Before we begin. I would like to remind you all that Caleb is a fictional character, he cannot be hurt- but so is Simon Riley so do with that information what you will :)

“Garrick.”

Johnny clears his throat before speaking, the commotion of the station loud through the phone, “Ya n the missus still in th’ country?”

To that Kyle frowned, moving carry on bag to sit down on the chair, “We’re just gettin back from Las Vegas, Becca got-“

“Ollie is gone.”

well. That sent a shock through his system, with a quick straighten of the posture Kyle speaks again, “An’ Simon doesn’t-“

“Some bullshit happenin’ makin it look like he helped his girl with kidnappin em from da dad, dad’s takin em …”a breath, “Si doesn’t know Ollie is gone yet. He’s been in questionin for five hours kno.”

Kyle looks down at his boots for a moment, meanwhile his wife gives him a confused stare, “Jesus- fuck, you need me?”

“I dunnae ye. Probably, ya got a ETA?”

Kyle shrugged and then looks at Rebecca, who had her luggage stolen so they were waiting on the security to do their work. “Si’s kid is missin.”

She stares up at him in disbelief for a moment, “How?”

“Bio-dad bullshit.” Kyle puts the phone to his ear again, “Hows Cap holding up?”

“Pissed off. But we all are.”

“Ya seen LT yet?”

“Nah, got her’ two hours go.”

-

If he were being honest, he wanted to simply take the gun and shoot the detective- it would finally make that man shut his mouth. However, Simon was showing self restraint, yet that task grew harder with each moment. So as he sat in the empty room, he was mainly focusing on keeping his breathing even, and temper in check.

About ten minutes went by before someone came to let him go, and to no one surprise Price was behind the door with the officer.

“I need you to be-“

“Where’s Ollie? Where is she?”

Price tried to keep his expression neutral, “Caleb had temporary rights-“

“The fuck does that mean? Where is MY SON?” Okay, so temper wasn’t in check but he was doing his best.

“He’s going to Las Vegas.”

—

Rebecca sipped her coffee as she sat in the airport lounge, after talking the security and as Kyle gave out the description of the small boy. She was currently going through Caleb’s social media, as someone had gone through a lot of trouble to edit photos where Simon had been in and replace them with himself, somehow editing the timestamps as well. Which was funny, because normally she was the phone taking the family photos.

With a frown she turns her phone over and looks around the bustling airport.

That’s when she spots Caleb. Hoodie pulled up to cover his face and quickly walking through the terminals.

Some part of her knew she needed to tell Kyle, and to not rush after him. And she knew he probably could’ve over powered her/ but it was so easy to just use that book she had grabbed as she went after him to take him down.

He probably could’ve thrown her off but instead he let her pin him down, panicked eyes and heaved breathing. “I swear! I didn’t- it wasn’t my idea! They-I owed the em money! I had to!”

“Where is Oliver?”

“They had me hand him off-off to some lady! I don’t know! Russian, tall, I don’t know!”

Rebecca looks down at him, her heart beginning to race as the security began to come over and to grab them, and she slowly turned as Kyle pulls her away. “I don’t…I don’t think is about Ollie. I don’t think this is about him at all.”

-

Ollie stares at the ground of the small plane, having a cup of water and a little baggie of goldfish in front of him. His eyes red with tears.

“Oh, come now little man, eat up. Get strong.” The woman coax’s, her voice muffled by the accent but her smile sweet, “Your father does not want to see you hurt.”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know. But you cannot go right now, your father- he owes us a debt.”

—-

Tee…tee hee 🤍🤍

(Am I getting carried away? Yes obviously. But I am having too much fun to stop)

[grandisknight]

kiss me through the phone | caleb

summary: You hit Caleb’s line one night, wondering how he’s been. Little did you know, you were about to find out all about it and more.

tags: nsfw (mdni), gn!reader (no specific descriptors), teasing, banter, phone call (phone sex), swearing, dirty talk, (semi) guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, ejaculate

wc: 2.6k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: replaying through the early main story brought this about caleb i miss u sm

When the sun rises, the moon falls in perfect harmony. Such was the way of the world, but it doesn’t lift the heaviness lingering in your heart any further. Especially when that same sky separates you from someone you miss so, so dearly.

A dedicated fighter pilot of the Deepspace Aviation Administration, Caleb was away from Linkon City more often than not. 

Either having his nose buried in the paperwork or wings soaring through the skies—he always reassures that he was safe, all in one piece for you to inspect when he returns for a monthly visit. Still as tall as ever, as lovingly annoying as ever when he pretends to be hurt at a pinch to his arm. His laughs only grow in volume the longer you chastise him for it.

Caleb was the apple of your eye. And currently, the same apple plainly stares back at you through a phone screen. A pair of poorly drawn eyes and a lopsided smile overlaid the crisp, red apple beneath; it looked silly, befitting of the man who doodled it on. 

You wonder how he was doing—if he ate today, were the clouds kinder than the last storm he told you about. Taking a glance past your bedroom window provided you no semblance of an answer. The blanketed stratosphere was only a pitch black of night and stars littered about them plenty, neatly settled into the evening.

(Call him, you should call him.)

Your fingers hover above the button, room for second thoughts lost to time when you instinctively pressed down. Bringing it to your ear, the dial tone drones on, and so does your heart in wait.

He doesn’t answer on the first ring, and a feeling of unease curls into your gut. Far too soon to jump to conclusions and worst case scenarios, but what if… just, what if something was wrong? 

Your heart lodges itself into your throat when you press again, letting the ring dull your ears and become nothing but a monotonous doom. Again, and again. Your own worries are bound to eat you alive by the third ring. 

(Please pick up, please, please, please.)

Miraculously, the receiver crackled and a voice so warm greets you, albeit a bit… breathless. “Hey there. You’re still up?”

“Caleb,” you exhale, feeling relief wash over your nerves. Of course he was fine, you scared yourself over nothing. Straightening your back against the headboard, you return the phone to your ear and ask, “Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

Rustling could be heard from his end—laundry, maybe? And a faint snap catches your attention, especially when he only hisses and delays his response. 

“I’m—“ He clears his throat. “Yeah, all good. What’s up, pipsqueak?”

“Don’t ‘pipsqueak’ me, Caleb,” you say firmly. “Did you break a bone before picking up the phone?” The joke was light-hearted at best, though a hint of your concern faceted the same words.

“No,” he heartily laughs. Even the muffled receiver doesn’t conceal how lovely the sound is. “Sorry, I was just… preoccupied, before I saw your call.”

Your brow quirks at the odd phrasing, and you point out, “Doing what, exactly?” 

You pull back your phone to read the time, seeing it’s only a quarter past nine. There wasn’t much to do around this time of night, when the streets were quieter and people kept to themselves within their abodes.

“Stuff.” He off-handedly replies, doing the most to answer you indirectly. “Anyways, what’d you call me for? You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“Physically? No. Emotionally? Depends,” you answer. “But I’ll live.” Toying with the edge of your blanket, you add on, “Don’t change the subject, either. I can hear a liar when they come and go.”

“You never let me off easy,” Caleb muses, seemingly conceding to your observation. “Listen, pick a number, one or two, and I’ll tell you.”

“One and a half,” you snicker.

He sighs in disbelief. “That wasn’t an option at all.”

“It counts as both,” you reason with a shrug. “That way, you’ll tell me what’s up either way.”

Caleb doesn’t answer right away, seemingly pondering his response. A part of you feels guilty for finding a loophole to a simple play. “No pressure or anything, really. I was just,” you pause, puffing out a small sigh. “Wondering how you were doing today, that’s all.” 

Maybe a text message would’ve gone over better; that damn apple had a good reason for staring so stupidly at you on the screen. 

“I can hang up—“

“No,” he interjects, with some tone of urgency that has you stilling your fingers. “Wait, hold on. Don’t hang up just yet.” 

More shuffling could be heard on his side, before he softens his words and says, “Today was kinda slow, so I’m alright. Better actually, since you called.”

Ah, there was the answer to one of your questions. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, though appreciating his intent. “Caleb, that’s really cheesy.”

“You like cheesy things,” he points out, and you could practically see the grin on his face. “And it’s the truth. Dinner was fine too. Nothing exciting really happened, and y’know how they are at the DAA.” 

Secretive, though maybe it was for the best. You have asked him in the past, though met to no avail because of the very reason. Another checkbox to your wonders is met.

“I missed this,” you quietly admit, now pulling apart one of the frayed strings the blanket once had. “Hearing your voice.” And seeing you, though the unspoken words linger in your throat.

There was still some time before he was due to fly down into Linkon, yet every time felt longer than the last. To you, at least. It was the highlight of your month, knowing he would be around. Walking through Bloomshore together, pointing out sights you’re well-accustomed to, but enjoy every time because you’re with him. Sometimes, you’ll notice little things you miss along the way, and he’ll tease you about the finer things in life.

Caleb fondly returns your confession, as kind as ever. “I miss you too, silly.” A moment of comfortable silence passes, before he asks, “Isn’t it late? You should get some rest.”

You chew your lip, eyes wandering off to the night sky beyond cool glass. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t ready to let him go just yet. And you still have another curiosity seeking its answer. “Stay on the line until I fall asleep?”

“I can never say no to you,” he says in acquiescence. You inwardly cheer at the victory. “But… Ah, could you give me like, five minutes?”

You hypothetical pom-poms pause their feathery shakes at his request. “For?” It isn’t that you are unwilling, but your curiosity only increases tenfold.

“I didn’t finish,” he mumbles, quick and low in its delivery. He was more so speaking to himself, but you caught the faint breath all the same.

“Finish what?” You question. “Caleb, I can’t hear you if you talk like that.”

“I was in the middle of a session,” Caleb quickly answers. “There, I said it. Now you know.”

Oh. A session. That was the last thing you were expecting to hear. The puzzle pieces finally make sense then—his breathless entrance, and shuffling that most definitely wasn’t laundry. Then, surely, the snap must have been, “Your underwear?” You finish your spoken train of thoughts in surprise.

“Way to put me on the spot,” he awkwardly chuckles, before clearing his throat once more. “Look, I’ll call you back once I’m done—“

“Stay,” you say. Though, it takes everything in you to speak without wavering to reveal the heat quickly budding in your body. You press your legs together instead, hoping the suppression would tame you some. “And let me hear it.”

Caleb nearly chokes on his saliva.

“You—You’re joking, right?”

“I didn’t stutter,” you tell him. “I’ll help you through it. After all, I’m the one who interrupted your precious alone time.”

“Okay,” he murmurs in thought. Then in acceptance, “Okay, fine. I’ll entertain you for now, but promise to sleep after.” 

“Promise.”

Even when it was concerning his manhood, he still had it in him to put your well-being into foremost consideration. How thoughtful. Sweet even, if it weren’t for the direly lewd context of the matter.

You didn’t have the patience for such kindness, chirping instructions of, “Great. So get to work, yeah? Carefully remove those boxers for me, first.”

“Roger that,” Caleb chuckles. You could make out the snap and slide of a waistband, fabric rustling to be likely thrown aside for tomorrow’s Caleb to deal with.

“Use your dominant hand,” you say, raising your own in thought. “And give yourself some nice, slow strokes from base to tip. Squeeze when you get to the head, just enough to get some pre out.”

“Ah, fuck.” You could hear a faint wetting of his lips before they produce a slick spit, surely coating his palm in preparation. He dutifully follows your words with a moan, and you bite down your own just so you could savor the sounds. 

“Talk to me Caleb,” you breathe out in turn. “How does it feel? Where are you right now?”

“My room, just me in here. Need—hah—more, but it’s so good,” he manages between breaths. “Would feel even better if you were here with me.”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a hum. “I bet you’d like that. The way my hands would wrap around your cock, pumping you the way you need.” 

He hisses through his teeth, more than pleased at the idea. “You’d look so pretty doing it too.”

You find yourself salivating, fingers itching at the ghosting feeling of such illusory warmth. You wet your lips, your own hands slowly creeping towards the warmth between your legs and past the blanket. It was instinctual, though you couldn’t hide your gasp in time and Caleb snickers.

“Oh? Was that what I think it was?”

You could map out his cheshire grin from the question alone, though you didn't have it in you to deny him. “Not my fault you sound so hot like this,” you sigh, pressing the pads of your fingers in a slow rub. “Thinking about you right now has me all worked up.”

“What, you think about me when you touch yourself?”

The answer is as clear as a cloudless day in Linkon, and a sense of want seeps into your voice. “Can’t help it,” you nearly whine. “Happens ‘cause you’re gone so much.”

“Fuck,” Caleb curses. “Me too, trust me. I’ll be home soon,” he promises, though it fades off into a quiet grunt and strained sighs. “Soon, I’ll be there and you can have me in any way you need me.” 

You pray that eventuality becomes your near reality by the time morning comes, even if it was an impossible dream. “You can go faster,” you encourage, increasing your own touches against clothed skin. “Do what you need, I’m right here.”

A slight clunk draws you from the lust hazing your thoughts, a pin of concern dropping into your mind. You ask, “Caleb? You okay over there?”

“Phone was in the way,” he says hurriedly. “Speaker’s on, I need both hands.”

Much to your delight, the audio becomes clearer through the speaker as a result. The slaps of skin every time his hand moves up and down his length, to the faint slick of lubed saliva messily enhancing his strokes—they were all there. But the prettiest sounds of all were the gravelly groans stemming from his throat in perfect harmony.

You think about how his abdomen would contract with every breath, the way his brows knit together in concentration. The luminous glow of his amethyst eyes, their sparkle now overlaid in clouds of unadulterated want. The shapes of his lips when he smiles so sweetly to creating the desperate moans you’ve endeared yourself to the entire call. You miss him, and it hurts.

And how much you crave to hold that image between your fingers, instead of needlessly curling and pressing around the fabrics of clothes and their cotton. Your thighs squeeze instinctively with a particularly drawn out moan from the receiver.

Caleb’s voice lowly calls out to you. “Do you hear it? How my cock aches for you?” As if you weren’t lasered in on the very noises this whole time, only growing feverishly with every pump.

You mewl at his cadence. “I do, oh I do. What I would give to have that cock all for myself, hot and heavy and mine.”

“It’s a shame.” His breaths grew increasingly shallow with every word punched out. “You won’t get to enjoy all this cum I’m about to—haah—give, such a shame.”

Your hands shake, closer to the brink than you once thought. “A-ah, you’re not wrong—!” You fall back against the headboard, shoulders sinking in and legs shifting in ardent need. 

“Caleb, are you, please tell me you’re—“

“Close?” He pants, arousal embedded into every breath. “Oh, I have been. Practically leaking and waiting for you to tell me when you want to come.”

Your mind dizzies, his voice the perfect charm that pushes you to the edge of release. “Do it now, please, please, please.” Babbles of direction and your pleasure blur together, unable to hold back and with the trembling of your muscles. “Wanna hear you come for me,” you gently cry out, fingertips circling faster over your surely ruined undergarments. “I’m about to—mmh!”

“Coming for you,” Caleb bites out, relentlessly keeping his pace over his sensitive cock. “Fuck, fuck. So much, it’s a mess, ah fuck.”

Your name draws out into a long and decadent moan when he releases, burning into the phone’s static and shooting straight to your heart. The melody sends you spiraling into a wave of bliss, coming undone with just haphazard touches and the vision of his creamy release painting his hands white.

His panting and your own begin to even out in the following silence. Clarity wipes at your muddled thoughts, though Caleb was the first to speak up.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You meet him with the same tone, a small laugh to your calling. “Hi.”

“Feeling alright?”

“Mm. More importantly, are you good?”

Caleb’s chipper reply gives you confirmation. “I’m pretty sure you heard me a few minutes ago.” Another rustle and creak later, you hear his footsteps padding his words. “Need to clean up. You should too, right? Surely it’s not comfortable to be in soaked underwear before bed.”

You gasp, feeling exposed and instinctively pull at your blanket. A poor shield at the moment, if anything. “How did you know I kept them on?”

“I didn’t,” he plainly says. “But now I know.” You could hear him smirking in glee, only growing further when you bemoan the circumstances.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want, I’m changing out of them.” You slide off of the bed, shuffling footsteps towards your dresser. Out with the old to the laundry basket and in with the new, you return to the pillows and exhale.

“In bed now?” Caleb asks. He lets out a soft laugh when all you do is grumble a response. “Alright. Promise is a promise, I’ll stay on call until you really hit the hay.”

“M’kay,” you mumble through pursed lips, before bringing the screen to them and planting a soft kiss. 

You don’t recall much of what happened afterwards. Only your hushed whispers and Caleb’s gentle voice going on about aviation and work mishaps fill your lingering consciousness. Soon enough, it lulls you into a dream of clouds, where bright eyes of amethyst awaited you with open arms.

[ara-the-great]

One call away

Tw: slight reference to lores, slight gore (if you squint) fever and delirium, abandonment issues

(here is the request I got for Zayne and Sylus angst. I didn't know what to write so I added my own trauma. I HAVE NOT PROOF READ THIS)

You don't remember most of your childhood. Not that you cared much. The oldest thing in your memory that you could find was screams, the screams staying with your Grandma and Caleb but that too was well into your mid or late teens.

Even then you didn't have many friends, actually you had no one except Caleb. All of them either bullied you or abandoned you, they didn't care about you . You were desperate for any sort of connection as a child and as a adult.

Your dating scene was similar. Though you only had one relationship before you joined the hunters association. Even that was far from a good one. And now when you look back at it you couldn't remember much there either, you had cried so much, so damn much but still he left.

It's only after joining the association that your life started to look up. It was a new start for you. A new environment, new friends do you think they like you? and new opportunities.

You always kept your problems to yourself. You didn't want to make others worry for nothing. It's not like anyone was close enough to tell these problems anyway.

When this mysterious fever started developing you thought you could ignored it, just power though it, right? Wrong.

You could barely stand up. Slipping in and out of consciousness. Your body felt like it was being baked from the inside out. Yet it felt like your limbs were freezing off. You needed help to at least get to the hospital.

Even thinking of the hospital made you feel worse. You could practically smell the antiseptic scent of the sterile rooms. What if something is really wrong with you and you need surgery? Under the harsh flood lights and white coats and screams and they'll kill you this time. They'll hurt you. They will cut you open with a knife.

Sylus

You jolted awake shaking, you can't stop shaking. No one can save you this time. For all you know that kind-hearted boy who helped you is dead. For all you knew his body was stained as red as his eyes.

He answered "look who it is, I didn't think I'd be fortunate enough to get your call today kitten". You weren't sure when you had called Sylus but you already had. You didn't know what to say let alone why you called him. Could he even help? Suddenly you remembered the aether core. Maybe this fever was related to this. Maybe-

"kitten are you alright?" His voice sounded gruff but gave you so much comfort. But you wouldn't want to disturb him. He probably would hate you for it.

"I'm sorry i- I mistakenly called you" you managed to rasp out. Still shaking

"you don't sound well. Are you sick? Where are you?" He spoke cautiously. You weren't sure how he knew. Not sure that you cared because before you could answer a calm swept you into unconsciousness.

You woke up to someone opening your door. Shit shit shit shit shit shit . Someone was here. An intruder was here. You could barely get up and out of bed before stumbling onto the ground, your gun was nowhere to be seen. You kept trying to think where you kept it but you came up blank. You rummaged through your bedside table trying to find something to defend yourself with but your cold shaky hands weren't making it easier. The person outside had started to open your bedroom door when you found a blunt craft scissor which you held up towards whoever was inside. Your sight was blurry and your heart was beating in your ears like a war drum but you could recognize a tall figure approaching. You weren't going to let them take you back. you have to fight. You have to

"DONT COME ANY CLOSER! GET OUT IM NOT GOING BACK I WONT HESITATE TO KILL YOU DON'T YOU DARE TAKE ANOTHER STEP!" You screamed as loud as you possibly could. Tears ran down your face as you shook with what can be only described as pure terror. Scenes from the past kept flashing in your head. You could practically feel every damn cut they cut into you as a child.

You were sobbing and shaking curled up in a corner from fear and yet you kept the knife held up. It tore Sylus's heart apart to see you like this again. In the blink of an eye he was kneeling in front of you cowering form trying to reach out.

"Sweetie, Y/N please it's me. Calm down it's ok you are safe. Look at me. Shh look it's me Sylus. Its ok I won't take you anywhere, I won't hurt you." He held you in his arms even though you were wildly trying to stab him for a second. His normally smooth voice wavered and cracked.

"S-sylus? I- someone is in the house!" You deliriously mumbled from the high fever.

"kitten it was me. I came over because I was worried when you stopped talking over the phone. It seems like I was right to worry. You are burning up what happened?"

"I think I have a fever. It's ok though, I'll be ok" you said calming down. You leaned into his touch as he held you against his chest. His heartbeat was almost as rapid as yours.

"my love, I don't think you will be fine your fever feels well over 105. Why aren't you at a hospital? Why didn't you call anyone? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"i didn't think you would come"

"all you need to do is say my name and I'll be there for you. Now come, let's get you to the clinic"

You shook your head trying to insist you were fine but the worry in his eyes only made you reconsider your choice

"Can you tell me why you don't want to go?" His eyes and his voice were lulling you to sleep again

"scared" your voice was barely a whisper. You could feel yourself slip into unconsciousness yet again.

When you came to you weren't in your house. Just before you could panic you felt sylus talk. His arms still around you like a shield from everything you were afraid of.

"it's ok you are with me. I'm here. I bought you to the N109 zone. You needed to see a doctor so I called one to my house. So no hospital, don't worry." Sylus explained without you even asking.

"thank you" you said quietly, feeling ashamed of the scene you caused earlier.

"For?" He asked with a brow quirked up.

"For not asking what all that was, and for bringing me here and also for taking care of me."

He laughed softly "You don't need to thank me for taking care of you. I always take care of what's mine." His eyes were ever so soft as he brushed away your hair from your face. "Now sleep. You are still sick"

"but I feel a bit bet-"

"Sleep kitten. I'll take care of everything else" he said softly kissing your forehead.

Zayne

You stared at your phone contemplating whether or not you should call Zayne. Though you were in a relationship you couldn't just disturb him. He was a busy guy. He had surgeries and more serious patients to take care of.

Your phone began ringing. Speak of the devil.

"Y/N? This is zayne. Are you alright? This is the second time you missed your appointment this week." His cool voice sounded across the phone.

"zayne, ah I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just have a bit of a fever."

" A fever? That gives you more reasons to come over to the clinic does it not? Do not worry about the appointments. I'm coming to pick you up. Are you at your apartment?"

"Zayne its truly not necessary I don't want to burden yo-"

"Rubbish, I was already headed out. So do not worry about burdening me. Worry about taking care of yourself" he cut the call before you could try to persuade him that you were fine. You were just grateful that someone was there. Even though zayne had abandoned you before. He didn't care about you. It was his job as a doctor to care for his patients.

You didn't realise when you had slipped into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

But by the time you had woken up your skin felt like it was burning from the fever. This wasn't normal. Glancing over at the clock you saw it was around 1 am. Zayne wasn't here yet. Why did you expect he would be here? You knew not to trust in what people say so why was your eyes tearing up?

As your fever kept increasing it became harder and harder to move around, it was painful to even sit up. He had abandoned you again. Your ex was right. You were annoying and in the end everyone would leave you. Nobody could ever love you.

The memory of zayne flashed across your mind. He had promised to always look after you. To be there for you.

You gritted your teeth kept mumbling "it's ok. I'll be ok" to yourself like a mantra as you somehow got a coat on your back to head to the hospital. You weren't sure how you'd reach there but the first step was to get out. Every promise that has been made to me has been a lie why would this one not be?

Just as you were about to get out of your room, your door softly swung open, revealing Zayne with an apron and a tray of soup in his hands. He seemed taken abac. But perhaps not as much as you.

"And where are you going? You shouldn't be up with such a high fever." He said as he kept the soup on the table. His cold eyes were filled with worry. Even seeing him had you breaking down into tears.

He scrambled to hold you as you collapsed on the floor crying. "What happened, where does it hurt?" He hurriedly measured your pulse and fever trying to find any sort of answer from your incoherent sobbing.

"Wh-when, when did you get here" you managed to croak out once you had calmed down a bit

"I got here long ago but since you were sleeping I didn't want to wake you. I was in the kitchen making soup for the fever, knowing you, your stomach is empty." He said as he slowly settled you into your bed.

As he turned around to bring the soup he meticulously made for you, you grabbed the back of his finely pressed shirt, "don't leave. Please don't leave, please stay. Please. I would die if you left me." you kept begged in your fever induced delirium. It broke Zaynes once frozen heart to see such fear and pain in your eyes.

He slowly leaned over to kiss you on the forehead "I won't. I'm just getting your soup. You need to eat something if you want to get better. You can't have medicine on an empty stomach"

Throughout the rest of the night Zayne diligently fed you and took care of you. And when you found it hard to sleep he would cradle you in his arms and read out his medical papers to distract you from your thoughts.

"I'm here, I'm here sweetheart, it will be ok. I'm not going to leave even if the gods demand me to" he comforted you every time you jolted awake. He would be whispering words of comfort to you till you fell asleep again and continue telling you how much he would give up for you. This treatment would go on for days, till you recovered. And even though you didn't remember how you begged him to stay, he would reassure you that he'd be there for you whenever he could.

[starry-fame]

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

Masterlist

Sequel - Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don��t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that’s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

—

Sequel — Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

[floufli]

Your blood on my hands, it warm.

Chapter 1 : Linked (5.3k)

Masterlist

Tagglist: @sniickerdoodles @babygirl-panda19

Summary:

After absorbing the power of the Aether Core and coming back to Sylus's base, you are left with more questions than when you first arrived in the N109. Sylus on the other hand, seems blissfully oblivious to your internal struggle and doesn't give you the answer you crave. But you know, after the vision you had, that the two of you are more than strangers.

He knows things you don't, but if playing along to this little game means finding the answers to your grandmother and Caleb's death, along with the Aether Core secrets, then so be it.

Being forced together for the time being would not bother you if it helped you know him better, and discover who he really was too.

Warnings : a bit of sexual tension, tiny bit of blood mention, but things will get bloody and nasty later MDI

Author note: Finally baby number 1 is here, proofread at 1am so don't hesitate to point out mistakes or weird things. If you wanna be included in the tagglist just tell me I'll add you!

Surrounded by the soft classical melody of the vinyl playing in the background, you sat on the same crimson sofa you had been on for the past hour.

Sitting in front of you was the leader of Onychinus, the man who had kidnapped you, forced you-or tried at least, to resonate with him, and pulled you left and right in a matter of hours into unnecessary danger.

"Do you plan on staring any harder, sweetie?"

His voice was like honey, coating your nerves in a thick layer of soft fluff, calming you fidgeting despite your persisting dislike of the man. You didn't avert your eyes from his relaxed form. Choosing to observe with fake involvement as he lazily polished the gun in his lap.

Your gaze narrowed, a frown quickly taking over your face. If playing violin with your nerves was a form of art, you were sure people all around the world would fight for the chance to witness the scene actually going on. He was so nonchalantly annoying. Nothing seemed to faze him no matter what you had tried before. No smart remarks, no embarrassing gesture or act would even make him blink slightly differently.

Since you had come back to your temporary residence, you had bombarded him with questions. But he systematically refused to answer. “You’re not ready for that Kitten.” “If I told you, your already poor opinion of me that I just managed to up a little bit would sink underground, and I don’t plan on spending whatever time there’s remaining for this to come off with someone treating me like a lunatic.” And when you had kept on insisting despite all his words, he had pulled out the very gun he had made you use on him with the help of his Evol from far across the room, shutting you up immediately.

“Whatever you say, sweetie, I won’t budge. You saw it before on the rooftop, you will see more if we keep resonating.” His eyes, the deepest shade of red you had ever seen, shone in the slightest as they came to rest on you. His face was bare of emotion, but his gaze was intense, leaving no room for lies.

“You will have your answers, but you will have them at your pace and when you are ready for them.”

He ignored you after that. And that’s how the last hour passed by.

Arms tightly crossed on your chest; you felt the lack of the previous adrenaline rush catching up to you. It had been days now since you slept correctly. First because of the excitement of finally going to the N109 zone and possibly finding the answer you craved on your Aether core. Then, because of the stress of finding that damned brooch of his and the apprehension of actually going to the auction.

Your eyes were starting to grow heavier despite the morning being only an hour away. With each blink, you felt your grasp on your consciousness slowly slip away, almost allowing you to fall into a peaceful slumber right here and there.

"Is my kitten so tired that she would fall asleep in front of a starving tiger?"

Well, there goes your sleep. You immediately shot up at the sound of his deep and rich voice, a cold shower on the warmth of your dream that was just seconds away.

Your jolting didn't escape him by the smug look on his face, the smirk you had grown familiar with coming to rest on his lips.

"Oh, did I wake you up?"

The twitch of your eyelid must have been more noticeable than you thought, seeing as his smirk doubled in size and the soft chuckle that escaped him. His crimson, oh-so-vivid eyes met yours for a moment, allowing you to have a glimpse of the teasing warmth hidden behind the layers of red. But just as your eyes met, he broke the contact, going back to admire his handiwork.

"Seems like the tiger lacks intelligence then, raising the guards of its prey when he could have had an easy meal staying silent."

Your voice sounded more venomous than you had intended, but for what it was worth, he did deserve some harsh words for what he had done to you in your short stay.

"Oh..." He examined the now shiny and immaculate gun, giving you that same smug glance before continuing where he left off.

"So you agree you are my prey then?"

Huh?

Your face went through a myriad of states in a matter of seconds- confusion, disgust, anger before finally settling on slight annoyance. You didn't- wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing you, for once thankful that his gaze wasn't piercing you, too focused on the weapon in his hands.

"Cat got your tongue?" That tone, the mocking all-knowing way he articulates his every word, pushing your buttons without even trying to. You hated this man, you really did.

Choosing to ignore his pompous behavior, you lifted your hand abruptly, forcing his own to follow your movement. You didn't miss the twitch of his eyelid as the hand holding the cloth let go of the fabric because of the sudden pull. The unknown link between both your hands may have stretched a little between its first appearance and the moment you came back to Sylus' home, but still, you couldn't get more than 2 feet away from each other before the familiar pull stopped you.

"The cat is too busy being bone dry and exhausted to get anything, and with what we went through today, I think following its lead and getting some sleep is more than recommended."

Before I try to murder you again and this time I won't fail. You kept that last part for yourself though, you may be tired, but you were not suicidal yet. And despite him saving you multiple times, when he was the one that put you in danger, you couldn’t forget who you were dealing with.

Onychinus' apparently immortal leader, obsessed with resonating with you and weirdly enough complaining about your demands until now.

You gently turn your head to face the slowly brightening outside, even in the N109 zone, where the sun could barely shine, you could tell when the morning began to show its first rays, along with the clock sitting on one of the many shelves behind Sylus still siting form.

You still couldn’t believe you had managed to resonate with him, thinking back, you had tried to do so by yourself after the shooting at the bar and still, nothing had happened. But on that rooftop, you had been able to see past his usual mask for an instant, and unconsciously…

You had trusted him when taking his hand. Even if just for this moment you had known you could trust him with your life. And you did.

Hands coming down to retrieve the fallen cloth before coming to rest on his lap, yours mimicking his so the link would not activate again, his eyes followed your gaze, seemingly unbothered. The display could have actually fooled you if you didn't already know of his opposite sleep schedule compared to a normal human being.

You were proved right when you witnessed the exhaustion slowing creeping behind his gaze, his blinks slowing at the sight of the beginning of the day. You let him ponder for an instant, your initial energy quickly replaced by your previous fatigue. You only wanted to get a good night of sleep, on a warm bed, oh so far from this man-but ah yes, the link.

Wait, how were you supposed to sleep with that thing?

Your mind raced at the best of its limited capacities at this instant, already dreading the fact that he was probably going to make you sleep on the floor of his gigantic bedroom. The thought alone almost made you regret ever speaking out about going to sleep.

You didn't get the chance to cry on your fate for long before you felt a slight pull on your arm, facing the opposing couch, Sylus was already standing up, waiting for you to do the same. Gently pushing yourself up using your free hand, you approach him calmly. You were too tired to muster any smart remarks right now and you knew he wasn't as energetic as a few minutes before, the events of the day slowly catching up to him too.

The moment you were close enough for the link to start fading away Sylus began walking at a leisurely pace, letting you follow him without needing to sprint to catch up. You thanked him mentally, even if it was certainly because he didn't want to use any more energy before going to rest.

You went quietly through the corridors of the giant manor he, along with the twins, called his home, too tired to really think about where you were heading. Following him blindly.

You should really learn to be more cautious around strangers when tired.

You trailed, half asleep behind Sylus’ dark form. As you take turns you begin noticing some familiarity in the walls, before your brain finally lights up. He is bringing me to his chamber? Your curious gaze focused on his wide back, trying to decipher what he was thinking. Maybe he was really just exhausted and would indeed make you sleep on the floor. You could not remember if he had some kind of cushioning by his bed, it being a bed mat or carpet.

He is way too rich for carpet though, it's probably hardwood or maybe tiles. I should've paid more attention when looking for that damn brooch!

Your half-formed thoughts were once again stopped when Sylus back came dangerously close to your face, causing a small gasp to leave your lips as you quickly corrected yourself to the side to avoid running into him. You almost stumbled down, thanks to your tired muscles and the soreness starting to settle in your bones.

"What are you...oh." Before you could come up with the rest of the sentence you realized you had in fact arrived at the doors of his bedroom, the sense of familiarity now making sense as your eyes came to view the heavy double door leading to his quarters.

"Sleeping while walking Kitten? Is this one of the other hidden talents you have yet to show me?" Sylus right hand was resting on the right door, his palm sitting next to the handle without really making any move to open it. Walking up so you would stand closer to his left, you gave him a glare. The mocking smile he harbored didn't falter though, only growing until his eyes creased in the slightest, making the deep of his eyes dimmer in the barely lit space.

"Are you planning to stay here and mock me in my state of so grand weakness and exhaustion or are you going to open this door so we could get some sleep?" The sound of your voice only helps in the slightest keep you awake, as you were slowly but surely falling asleep while standing.

A scoff.

A scoff? A fucking scoff? You were going to kill him, for real this time.

He opened the entrance to his suite just as your hands became fists, avoiding swiftly the avalanche that was about to unfold on him as he stepped in. You followed a bit behind, enough for the link to reappear more clearly but not so the pull would be noticeable. If he noticed it, which you were convinced he did, he didn't feel the need to speak up about it.

Entering the even dimmer room, the smell of Sylus cologne intensified, and you felt out of place. You had been here before, but it was different, you had a mission: find the brooch no matter where it was even if it meant snicking into his room in the dark of the night while he was taking a shower. Now, however, it was no matter how you saw it, something more intimate, him actually inviting you into his space instead of throwing you out. It was out of convenience but still.

You felt awkward now, unsure of what to do with yourself, thankfully Sylus had kept walking so for now following him again would buy you the time to figure out what would happen next.

Coming up to the night table by his king-sized bed with you following closely behind, he put away his gun in the upper drawer before turning around and passing by you returning near the entrance.

Your confused look deepened when you followed him once more. Wasn't he tired of running left, and right? And even if he wasn't, it's getting late for him, what is he doing?

"I thought we were going to sleep Sylus; don't tell me you have some other business to attend because that’s out of the equation for me."

"Oh, don't worry about that sweetie, I won't tire you any more, but I'm not going to bed like that - and neither are you."

"Like what? You mean you can't sleep without your pajamas or-?" With a sway of his hand, a tendril of red smoke appeared, pushing against your mouth - not harshly enough to suffocate you or completely stop you from talking, but combined with the sudden act, it was enough for you to become silent.

Your eyebrows raised as you saw him quickly go through some type of dressing, only sparing you a few glances from time to time. Not even a minute later, the red tendril disappeared back into nothingness as he held out a bunch of items to you.

"What? Whatever things you are into I'm not putting anything on. I’ll just take the couch and put it closer to the bed."

His brows furrowed in irritation, his hands pushing the items into your chest, forcing you to hold on to them before they could fall onto the floor.

"Could you stop being so hardheaded for a moment, you are doing both of us a disfavor acting like that." His eyes don't meet yours as he goes back to scour through the closed for clothing you guessed.

You scoffed at his remarks, looking down to finally examine what had been shoved into your arms. Separating the items as best as you could without losing your grip, you quickly made the list, a t-shirt, along with a pair of new boxers and trousers all of them a deep shade of black and way too big for you.

Except maybe the boxers, looking at the fabric, it seemed to be made to fit closely to the skin. Your eyes poked up through your lashes, looking at Sylus as he finished retrieving his desired clothes for the night. More precisely you quickly scanned his waist, the man was huge, both in height and width, that you had quickly known the very day you two met. But his waist, as if the gods themselves had decided to bless the guy, had been made slim enough to make your eyes catch on it multiple times during your previous escapade. And you knew you weren't the only one who looked at him like this, but at least you did it while his back was turned.

Which meant that the boxers would probably be the only good fit, the t-shirt and trousers? You would float in them but considering their purpose for the night-day, you didn't complain.

Your eyes then rested on the final item, and your eyebrows rose.

"Sylus why the towel we-"

"You seriously don't think I would allow you to dirty my bed after the events of tonight, or did you think being tired would make me forget basic hygiene Sweetie?"

" Well, no but I thought tonight would be an exception. You know considering this." You tugged your hand holding the towel away from him while looking at him expectantly. And surely the orange hue of the link appeared. Sure, sleeping with the vestige of your battle on your skin would feel gross but you could manage for one day. You were a Hunter, long missions where you were forced to sleep on concrete or dirt without showering for days weren't that common but not really rare either. It was something to be prepared for, and the bath when returning home was so heavenly that you almost immediately forgot the pain it was.

You thought you would quickly pat yourself with a wet towel to preserve some intimacy, not a full-on shower.

Guess he disagreed, looking at the way his lips stretched in a judgmental scowl.

"Your view on this, and your surely exhausted mind maybe didn't make you consider that even if we skipped it tonight -tomorrow, and the day after exist." He raised one of his hands to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. You really felt like a toddler who was being taught common sense. It was infuriating.

"Well excuse my poor fucking self-sir," Oh you didn't miss the way he tensed at that. “My stupid brain thought that the link would have loosened up enough by tomorrow so you know, we could shower separately?" Your hands were going wild, swaying up and down to accentuate your mocking tone.

"Because be sure of that one thing Sylus." You paused, pointing at his with hand holding both the towel and the link, the other coming the rest on your hips while holding the rest.

"I'm not putting myself naked in a closed and small room with you, sick bastard. Over my dead body." Your gaze was serious, although embarrassment at the words had made a sweet blush appear on your cheeks.

His smile darkened the moment the words left your lips, his right eye glowing in that sickening red hue that made your mind play tricks on you.

"Stop that." Anger lingered in your tone, accentuated by the exhaustion. You could've gone to bed 10 minutes ago and still, you were there, unclean, tired, and on the brink of snapping Sylus' neck.

"I'm the sick bastard and yet you are the one suggesting perverted acts Kitten, I never said we would shower together, you did that yourself." The glow in his eye subsided and he turned his back to you, closing the distance between the glass door of the shower.

You took a few steps but stopped before the transition into the shower and observed as Sylus put his own clothes on a shelf by the door, close enough to still be in range, but far enough for the shower head to not risk being drenched.

"Sylus how-"

"Easy, just stay by the door right where you are, and I'll stay right here." He said as he positioned himself to be just under the shower head. From where he stood, the link was clearly present, even beginning to pull on your hand, but if he kept his left hand facing you then there would be no problem.

“Okay, you got me on that one.” Sigh, you just hoped he wasn't taking forever when he showered. Giving him a last warning glare yo-

"OH MY! OH, MY-" The door handle slipped in your desperate hands as you struggled to close the door.

"DON'T JUST UNDRESS WHEN SOMEONE IS STILL TALKING TO YOU DAMMIT, PERVERT!"

You heard him chuckle, his deep voice just slightly muffled by the thin layer of glass. Thin enough, you realized, that if you really tried and came close enough with the glass it was almost as if there was nothing separat-

You turned away before you could do or see the irredeemable.

The sound of water hitting the tiles of the shower tensed you as much as it soothed your mind, a very corrupted mind by the way. You kept your linked hand near the entrance, taking the towel with a little bit of struggle into your other almost full one.

Gosh, I must look so stupid right now, standing almost pressed onto the glass while he is having the time of his life in there.

At least you could tell the hot water had made the glass blurry enough for his frame to be just beyond recognizable.

I was envious when he went in there first, but it was maybe for the better. I can't imagine him being able to keep his eyes for himself.

Yet that didn't stop you from taking a few glances, not that you could actually see anything.

Shameless. Truly, where is my self-respect?

You stayed pressed onto the door for a few more minutes, and the fight against sleep was beginning to turn into your disfavor. The warmth of the glass pressing softly into your back combined with the sweet, who would have thought, the scent of his body lotion or shampoo and the trickle of the water began to lull you into a semi-conscious state. Just Awake enough to not slide down the door and fall asleep.  You tried to distract your mind by taking the room more in detail, letting your eyes roam every interesting thing you could find. Surprisingly, they found the perch of Mephisto, you had been so much focused on getting some sleep that you hadn’t noticed the dark pile of feathers silently sitting just a few feet away. The mechanical bird seemed to be in some sort of sleep mode, so you couldn’t even look at it preening itself to keep you awake.

When your blinks began to last a few seconds each, the sound of the shower stopped, pushing you back into full, more or less, consciousness.

You take a look, only to see him approaching the door, your breath itching at the proximity yet how far away he was. You could barely see but by the sound of ruffling and the blackness surrounding his frame, you easily guessed your time waiting was almost up.

The door slid open the next second, and you stepped aside to let Sylus step out of the shower. The moment the door had slid all the way, the scent of his lotions became ever more powerful, completely engulfing you. I'll have to take a picture of whatever he has that smells so good, and it better not cost thousands.

He took a few steps to allow you the space to enter the now warm shower, a towel thrown over his shoulder while the same crimson robe hugged his frame.

"You can use my shampoo and lotion, just don't use all of it I just replaced them, and I don't like wasting that kind of thing."

You only acknowledged him with a small hum, almost jumping into the warmth of the shower the moment you could. You put your clothes where he had just minutes before, before turning to begin unbuttoning your top.

Sylus silhouette by the door frame made you stop your movement, the door still very much wide open. But before words could escape your lips, Sylus' hands had already done you the favor of closing the door, letting you exhale a breath you didn't know you held.

"Now, look at who is the perverted one. Have you truly got no shame little Miss Hunter?"

" Oh, shut it, I forgot now let me shower in peace." He was silent after that, good.

A small thud accompanied the last of your garment off your body, leaving you bear on the tile floor. You didn't lose much time relaxing in the warmth of the water or the sweet notes in the air, the shadow of the man by the entrance wouldn't allow you to. You quickly turned on the water, surprised to see the temperature was in fact perfect for you. You had showered after male colleagues or some of your ex-partners, but men and their lower body temperatures often left you shivering when you tried to shower after them.

Moving quickly before the warmth of the water lured you into the sleep you had been fighting off for hours, you made quick work of the dirt embedded in your skin. The clear water was now tainted with the brownish color of dirt and sand, along with a faint rosy taint from the small cut and dried blood you had accumulated tonight. The sting of the stream helped staying awake though, so you didn't mind it much.

Sitting on shelves embedded in the wall stood a variety of hair and body products for your choosing, but you didn’t waste much time looking at the labels. One at a time, you opened the lid and smelled its content, searching for the delicious scent. It only took you a few tries, the bottle still in front of the others following its recent use.

Seems like I found my new shampoo, and even if it does cost thousands, I'll just borrow this one, I'm sure he'll live.

Taking another bottle of random soap, you cleaned yourself thoroughly, paying extra attention to not tangle your hair in your haste. After rinsing and repeating to make sure all the shampoo and dirt were out of your hair you turned off the water.

Immediately, a chill ran up your spine, and you almost jumped on the towel resting on the track. You patted yourself dry before roughly gathering your hair into the towel and throwing it over your head when you were sure it would hold on its own. Sleep was only a boxer, T-shirt, and a pair of trousers away.

Although, you couldn't stop the blush creeping on your cheeks as you held the boxers. Your hesitation only lasted a moment, and you put the thing on without looking. The rest followed swiftly, along with your watch, even if it was waterproof, you wouldn’t bet your last communication device on your current luck, and the next thing you knew you were standing by the door.

" Careful I'm opening." You let a second pass before sliding the door open, sure enough, Sylus stood exactly where you had, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. His frame leaned gracefully on the glass, his arms crossed over his chest, he looked you over before pushing himself off the wall.

"You're taking the left side I'm taking the right."

Being careful not to slide and fall because of your wet feet, like seriously doesn't he have the budget for a bathmat, you looked at him confused but still mechanically followed him after closing the door.

"Wait," He continued to walk towards the bed. " You mean to say we are going to sleep together?"

" Are you going to say something indecent again?" His ironic tone was letting you know that, yes, this was actually happening.

"Sorry your Highness, I thought a peasant like myself would be forced to sleep on the bare floor."

"Yet look at me, gracious enough to share my bedding with said peasant."

Your mouth moved in unspoken injuries, taking advantage of his back facing you, but you knew he had good ears when he wanted, so you didn't push your luck actually speaking them out loud.

As he came by the frame of the bed, he took a moment to glance at his phone put on the nightstand. I didn't see him put it there, he must have done it when he put the gun away. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw, he put the phone back on the stand, and without wasting a moment more, slipped under the covers. With his tall frame, he almost didn't need to reposition himself, only slightly moving away from you.

He laid there, body flushed against what you knew to be the most fluffy and soft mattress you had ever had the luck to try out, his head resting on the pillow you bet was going to make you curse your own tomorrow. His white hair became just the slightest bit wilder against the bed, cupping his face beautifully as his red eyes locked onto yours, almost drowning you in their lazy intensity.

The corner of the cover was still lifted in an unspoken invitation to join him, the gesture too intimate, too banal for your liking. It made your heart ache for something. Something that you had possessed but that was ripped from you, leaving you longing for a familiarity long forgotten.

"Come on now, peasant, you don't want your lord's kindness to run out, do you?" His voice was too soft and lacked the previous taunting and teasing you had played into. Everything seemed like a dream, or maybe he had bashed his head, and this was the result of a concussion left untreated.

"The peasant would want more space, so hop your ass away."

You joined him behind the covers, taking the corners he held into your hand. The feeling of your fingers brushing against each other didn't make you shudder in the slightest. It didn't.

"Greedy."

"Annoying, move."

"You're acting as if I was the one at fault here." He began, his right arm coming to rest on the covers. He moved his body away to give you the space you requested. "But correct me if I'm wrong, I wasn't the one who put the leash on both of us."

"If you're so mad about the thing, cut your hand and just heal it back and stop nagging me." You threw daggers at him despite the sigh escaping you when you found the perfect position to sleep in. The bed truly felt like a cloud.

"Throwing me back my own words? I expected more from you kitten." He looked truly unimpressed, only faintly giving you a glance before closing his eyes. How easily he always cut the discussion short when things didn't go his way or bored him never failed to infuriate you.

Taking the pillow lying in between the two of you, you raised it above the covers to make sure it was big enough, prodding him to look at what you were scheming.

"Are you already going to try and murder me again?"

"You wish. But not today, I'm just making sure nothing happens." You said as the fluffy and plumb pillow came to rest between your body, separating them as best as you could with the means available.

With the barrier in between you and him, you felt the nerves that kept you awake starting to dissolve, finally letting you revel in the softness of the covers and the plushness of the mattress.

“Am I really this untrustworthy in your eyes? I feel offended.” Trust. Your exhaustion had left little room for anything other than short remarks and glares since you returned from the auction, but did you trust him?

You had learned that he wasn’t Grandma and Caleb’s killer, but nonetheless, he still wasn’t a good person. He was the leader of the most dangerous organization you knew of, and there were so many things you didn’t know about him that it honestly scared you. He, on the other side, seemed to know you to your very core, and that simple thing stirred something buried away in your memories.

At least before you could technically try your luck and run away, but now, even if he would let you, it wasn’t even physically possible.

You will have to trust the fact that he hadn’t killed you yet and that it meant he didn’t want to, he must have plans for you. That’s the only answer, that, or he wants to torture you before he gets bored of this cat-and-mouse game. Maybe you pulling the trigger when he told you to bore more consequences than you thought at the time.

Turning your back to him, you bathed in the soft glimmer of the fireplace you had forgotten existed. The soft swaying of the flames and their gentle orange shade reminded you of the sunset you often witnessed back in Lincon City.

Eyes closing on their own accord, you let your body relax, the sound of the fire cracking and Sylus' already soft and regular breathing lulling you to a well-deserved sleep.

[caddy-crystal-queen]

There was a man who begun popping up in Caddy’s dreams, standing facing away from her under a large tree before turning around and looking at her, with glowing red eyes under a wide brimmed Stetson hat as his leather trench coat blew in the wind. before anything could happen, the dream ends.

But today wasn’t going to be a good day.

(The Foundation finds her if you wanted to know. ~Bloody-Caleb)

She wasn't a seer. She had no way of knowing who or even what this man was. There was something familiar about him but she couldn't quite place it.

Like a memory long since past...

Waking up still in the dark of her cabin, sleep had been hard to come by. She had taken every precaution. Stayed away from large cities and towns, dyed and cut her hair, stayed on the down low.

She hated how she looked as a blonde. It didn't look like her in the mirror...not at all...

But then came the loud knocking, and the call of her number. Or at least her previous one.

"SCP 2194-DeC!".

Shit...they had found her. Somehow but they did.

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" Cadence Revan swore multiple times as she tried to find a hiding place. Her spare suitcase was in the panic room, the entrance to which was under the bed. If she could just get in there...

Avoiding the windows as much as she could, the crystal-mancer moved the bed over along with a small rug to reveal the door. Cadence opened it, her heart pounding in her ears as she struggled not to panic...

They were starting to break in as she got the door opened. Cadence about screamed as she rearranged the the rug to look undisturbed and went in, moving the bed back over the door.

She had practiced for this multiple times. Now all she had to do was wait and keep quiet...

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Thirteen

Parings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 2,982

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for some mature content and swearing

Notes; I've got almost 3k written in my Rafayel trope one-shot 😭 pls send help. Rafayel hasn't even shown up in it yet. Also, don't forget to vote on Sylus's trope for my one-shot mini-series!

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Masterlist

I just realized that if Caleb becomes a love interest in the future, my whole story is ruined– WELL, no time to panic about that. Even if he becomes a love interest, he won't included in the relationship 😭 Love him to death but, for me, I see him as a brother. But if he becomes a love interest, I can always write fluff and angst for him in the future. My whole fic is built around him being like a brother 😞

After a few hours of thinking and trying to sneak the brooch from Sylus, you decide to go for a different approach. You’d wait for him to take a shower and then search his room for it since he can’t possibly keep the brooch on him in the shower.

You crouch walk into his room, trying your best to keep your balance and not fall to the floor. As you look around the room, you notice his room has more of an open plan- meaning his shower is full glass and visible from his room. Your eyes widen as you spot Sylus’ bare shoulders as he washed his white hair, water droplets gliding down his skin…You quickly look away, shooting a glare at Mephisto from his perch as you make your way to Sylus’ bed. You pat over his folded red robe, murmuring under your breath, “Not in this pocket…or this one either..” You groan to yourself. “It’s not here or there…It’s gone.”

You run a hand through your hair, panicking just a tad bit since you had no idea where the brooch was or even how to get it, but you still had a few hours before your deadline. “I searched every nook and cranny. Where else could it be?” Your brows knit together in annoyance and your head starts to pound, hurting as you try to wrack your brain on where else Sylus could’ve hid it. You don’t think he’d hide it anywhere you wouldn’t be able to get to- that’d definitely be cheating.

“Did he take it into the bathroom?” You mumble to yourself, glancing toward the large open shower. Steam from the hot shower obscuring most of Sylus’ body besides his wide shoulders. Your eyes dart over to Mephisto on his perch and you point at the bird. “Tell me. Did you eat it? I know crows like shiny things,” You whisper to the bird, trying to keep your voice low. You make your way over to the crow, picking him up as you try to search him for the brooch, “Yes or no?” You spin the bird around, lifting his wings before you full on pause as you hear the shower shut off. “Fuck- I need to hide…” You set Mephisto back down, looking around before you duck behind a table.

You watch as Sylus steps out of the shower, a towel hung low around his waist as water drips down his chest. His hand rubbing at his neck as he steps further into the room. “Now’s my chance to escape,” You mutter under your breath, but you barely take a few crouched steps before you hear a phone ringing. Your eyes widen and you grip the edge of the table that you’re behind. Sylus walks toward the phone to pick it up and you get a close up look of his bare chest as he stands next to the table you’re behind. You can only see him from his chest up and damn…Ahem, pull yourself together.

“Mr. Sylus, we found a list of all the attendees from that night at the Nest.” You hear a voice say from the phone and Sylus hums, turning his back almost to you and you get a nice view of his back.. “About that night..” The voice on the phone continues and you realize they must be talking about the night you showed up at the Nest- well, it might not involve you but it could be if Sylus was interested in more information about it. You shift your body a bit to get comfortable and your knee pops. Loudly. Your body freezes up and you press your lips together in a thin line, slowly turning your head toward Sylus as you internally pray that he didn’t hear that. Your eyes meet his crimson ones. His hand rubbing against his neck as he pauses his movements. A smirk tugs at his lips as he scoffs. “Mr. Sylus?” The man on the phone tries to continue the conversation but it’s clear Sylus is done listening.

“It’s nothing. Just a stray cat who happened to barge in.” As Sylus says this, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. His eyes narrowing down at you and he turns his body to face you . Suddenly, you feel his evol wrap around your wrists as the man on the phone questions, “...A cat?” Sylus lifts you up to your feet using his evol and you groan, “You…You didn’t need to do that! I’ll just-” You let out a grunt in your struggle and the man on the phone clears his throat, “I-I’ll leave you alone now!” Aww man, now that guy got the wrong idea! Sylus guides you back to your knees with his evol and you have a small pout on your lips.

After a few moments, you look away and sigh, looking down at your bound hands to give him a bit of privacy. You notice he put on his clothes as he re-enters your vision, running his finger across a few records before he picks one up. He looks at it as he speaks, “Y/n, this is the fourth time we’ve met since last night, kitten.” “...You set a time limit for finding the brooch, but you didn’t say how I should find it. I doubt I’m breaking any rules. You should’ve been more specific,” You say with a pout as you try to tug your wrists apart, the dark red smoke swirls around your wrists. You drop your hands in your lap in defeat and Sylus goes back to looking at his shelf, “Do I need to remind you about your so-called “methods” from before?” You recall the last time you snuck into his room. He was in his dark red robe with a pair of glasses on and reading, he had you binded almost immediately and told you to get out. The next time, he caught you even faster and again, told you to leave after he binded your wrists. The most recent time, you tried to barge straight in with your gun but, instead, you were met with Sylus in his robe once more.

All he could do was sigh disappointedly at you.

Sylus keeps his robe clad back to you as he puts a record in his antique looking record player. “Have I underestimated your determination or overestimated your intellect?” He asks and you bite your lip, resisting the urge to puff your cheeks out, “You’re the one who suggested a deal. But here you are making things difficult-” Once you look back up, you notice he’s standing in front of you, his robe open enough to show a bit of his chest and muscled torso. “You’ll have to work harder.” He reaches down to grab your arm and drags you toward the door. “What’re you doing,” You huff out and have no choice but to follow him. He lifts your wrist up, turning his gaze to almost glare down at you, “Leave. I’m going to bed.” He pushes you out the door and you quickly turn around after he lets you go. “You-!” Sylus looks annoyed for once, sighing as he looks away and shuts the door in your face.

You sit down in your room after changing into something more comfortable, a pair of black shorts that Sylus had the twins procure for you and again, one of his shirts. It seems like either he doesn’t want to waste money buying you a shirt or would rather you wear his own. But that’s not what matters right now.

You grumble as you cross your legs and pick up a blank journal you were given, looking down at your drawings. A crow, which you crossed out, an angry crow yelling, and a picture of Sylus with devil horns and a tail. “Now I get it. He never intended to make a deal with me in the first place,” You angrily say to yourself as you scribble out your drawing of Sylus. Unable to take your anger out on the real thing, so you settle with the drawing. “You’re pulling your hair out over this, huh? If you want to do something, maybe we can help you,” Kieran speaks up and you quickly look up, just now realizing the twins are in the room with you.

They were both at the table in front of you, Luke having his head resting on a hand while Kieran sat on the table. “What do you mean?” You raise a brow, setting your journal to the side. “If you want to conquer our boss’s heart, you’ll have to use a different approach,” Luke says with a hand and you pause, eyebrows furrowing. Did they…have the wrong idea too? Well, it doesn’t matter. Whatever helps you get your hands on that damn brooch.

Luke opens up a book, reading aloud, “For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest.” He shuts the book and sets it down on the counter as you sigh, standing up to walk closer to get a better look at it. “When you’re dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go. In other words-” Kieran slides a pair of handcuffs and a pretty pink and blue gun across the table to you after you pick up the book.

“Uh, what-” You look down at the items, ear tips turning a bit red. “Strike when they’re off guard!” The twins say at the same time while Luke holds both of his hands up. “Boss is the least guarded when he’s sleeping,” The twins bounce off of each other. “You only have one shot. Don’t waste this chance. Just do it!” You run your hand through your hair with a sigh, “I can’t believe I’m doing this…”

Three hours later, you make your way to Sylus’ room, trying to hype yourself up. “Evol sealing handcuffs and a tranquilizer gun…This is a terrible idea. I’m definitely going to get killed the moment I do it.” You hold the gun tightly in your hand, the handcuffs in your other. “I might as well try anything I can,” You sigh to yourself as you open the door and step inside the room. You notice Sylus is asleep, sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard and his bedside lamp still turned on. You make your way over to the bed and rest your knee on the bed as you lean forward to lightly shake him. “Sylus?” You whisper, trying to make sure he is indeed asleep. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he doesn’t move. You hold up the cuffs, looking around for something to cuff him to before you point to the headboard and nod to yourself. You gently lift his hand up, wrapping the cuff around it to make sure it’s secure and hook the other side to the headboard. “Let’s see you get yourself out of this mess,” You murmur before turning your gaze to his robe.

You pat your hand lightly across his chest, trying to see if he hid the brooch inside of his robe, your hand going down lower since he definitely could’ve hidden the brooch there but as your hand neared, a hand caught you around the wrist. You let out a squeak of surprise, quickly looking up to meet Sylus’ dark gaze. A smirk ghosts across his lips as he raises a brow, “Showing up uninvited at this hour…want me to tell you a bedtime story?” He drops your wrist and you try your best to retort, “Obviously I’m…-” You honestly have no excuse, this looks weird regardless of whatever you were trying to do. But then you remember the handcuffs are supposed to seal his evol and you scoff, “Actually…You should be the one to figure out what’s going on here.” You smirk, cupping his cheek with one hand as you raise one of your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. “These handcuffs nullify a person’s evol for an hour. No matter how powerful you are, you’re helpless as of right now.” “Really? What do you plan to do then since I’ve become your prey?” Sylus questions, still seeming like he’s in control even though he’s the one handcuffed.

“Where’s the brooch?” You ask, unphased as you hold out your hand toward him. Sylus pushes your hand to the side, a laugh leaving him as he gets comfortable, “Help yourself.” “Don’t mind if I do.” You hum, feeling rather content, albeit a bit nervous with his gaze staying on you. “From the beginning, you trapped me here, forced me to resonate with you, and even said we’re ‘the same’...” You mutter through gritted teeth as you run your finger down the inside of his robe, trying to see if he pinned it inside there. You rub your hand down his side, continuing your search, “One wouldn’t treat a stranger like that so…” You look back up at him as you tilt your head to the side with a finger to your lips, “Don’t tell me you like me. Is this all so you can get my attention?”

Sylus laughs, the corner of his lip curling up into a smirk, “Clearly you’ve read too many fairy tales.” He looks off to the side before bringing his narrowed gaze back to you. You sigh from your nose and continue your search, feeling down the collar of his robe. “Does my answer matter?” Sylus asks, which causes your gaze to go back to his face. Though before you can reply, your fingers brush against cool metal and you grab hold of it with a smile on your lips. The black crow brooch with a red gem was in your hands. You did it.

“Now it’s not important at all. I won.” You say with a smile, clearly proud of yourself and hold the brooch in front of his face. Though all he can do is let out a scoff. “Don’t tell me…” “I won’t go back on what I promised you,” Sylus tells you, leaning forward to continue,”However, games are fun because of how thrilling they can be. Your attitude makes things boring.” After he says this, your eyes dart to the handcuffs which were now glowing dark red. “Oh shit-” You curse as they come undone, Sylus smirking at you as you try to scramble off of the bed in a panic. The older man catches you around the waist, spinning you around before tossing you back onto the bed. Your vision spins before you land on your back, looking up at Sylus and your heart almost stops beating in your chest. You throw your hand up to try and push him away, but he catches you by the wrist. “You’re pretty good at running away,” Sylus chuckles, looking down at you while he brandishes the tranquilizer gun in his hand. “Give it back-” You whine before he raises a brow, “Are you using this on me?”

He takes a look at it before closing his eyes and laughing, shaking his head at you, “So brash, aren’t you?” He opens his eyes, tossing the gun next to your hand as he puts his hand down on the bed next to your head to prop himself up over you. The brooch held tightly in your palm as he continues, “I’m keeping you around because you’re still useful. And…I truly enjoy watching my little prey struggle.” Oh fuck. That’s ho- Your train of thought is cut short as Sylus grabs your hand with the brooch. You struggle and try to jerk your hand out of his grasp, but he pulls it in-between you both, looking down at your hands, “Especially when it thinks it can escape from me.” His voice dropping to a whisper and you glare up at him, “Let me go! I already have it.” You jerk your hand and he finally pins your hand to the bed, your hands hitting the gun off to your side.

Bam

The gun goes off, pink and blue confetti explodes from the barrel. The colourful pieces of paper scatter through the room and cascade down on top of you both. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a pink heart shaped smoke that must’ve also come out of the gun. ‘Love’ was written in the smoke. “You’re so gullible, kitten.” Sylus comments and raises his eyebrows as he looks at you, letting out a sign of disbelief as confetti covers his room. “Those two-” You groan and Sylus takes the brooch from your hand. He inspects it, before he brings it toward you and you grab at his hand. “Don’t move,” He murmurs, pinning the brooch to your borrowed shirt. “Does this count as passing your test?” You ask, fingers brushing against the brooch.

You look up at him as he finally moved a bit away from you. “Barely. The auction is about to start, but what will happen after that…” You prop yourself up on your elbows with a determined look on your face, “I’m ready for whatever is going on here!” He glances over at you, looking you up and down as he chuckles under his breath, “Deal..Don’t lose this brooch. It proves you’re allowed to come and go in the N109 Zone as you please.” His gaze was on the brooch, but it felt more embarrassing since it was pinned above your breast. You clear your throat as Sylus rises to his feet. “Now hurry and get out. You’re really testing my patience, kitten.” He motions toward the door and you scramble off of the bed and to your feet. “Yes, sir.” You mumble under your breath.

While I'm holding you guys hostage here, I thought it would be fun to show off some banners for my soulmates mini-series that I recoloured! I'm also really excited and happy with the titles I gave the one-shots (they were gemstone names but that felt too basic–)

I believe you can make a guess at whose is whose, especially if I hint at the colours I've assigned to each love interest.

But yeah, they're all so pretty and I can't wait to use them. I've decided to finish my tropes mini-series first though and then move on to this one. If you haven't checked it out yet, I posted my Xavier one-shot for it! It should be my current pinned post.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this last update for the weekend! I'll be working on chapter twenty and also my Rafayel one-shot so you can look forward to the latter in a few more days! <3

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey , @tanspostsblog

[hellinistical]

fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence. wc: 4796 | status: on-going

masterlist | playlist | taglist | prev. | next.

II: GOLD STRUCK

The wagon wheels were obviously wobbly, the axles needing immediate tightening, not that anyone would care to repair them, though. The rainy season was in full effect, and the roads were the sky’s first victim. A dog chased after a squirrel, it’s barking annoying the merchant nearby. He cursed the dog and his bloodline. 

“To hell with Linkon! To hell with this damned town!” His broom thwacked at the wood sign on his stall. “When I catch you, you damned dog, why, you’ll be roasted with your litter!”

“Oh Mr. Heggins, relax! It’s just a dog!” “Just a dog? Why you- you let him out, didn’t you, Caleb? I should get you fired from the mines for this!”

Caleb laughed, crow's feet forming by his eyes as he smiled big. His hands held orchids. He had picked them from his mother's garden earlier that morning, meticulously picking the best ones without her knowing. In his pocket, a small box rested.

Mr. Heggins eyes note the flowers and the small lump in his pocket. 

“Today's the day, eh?”

Caleb nodded, his cheeks tinging with red. 

“Yes, sir. I plan to ask tonight.”

“Ah, before the king's carriages come? Bad timing, no?”

“No, sir.”

It's quiet for a moment before the old man speaks up. 

“And out of everyone you could have, you chose the L/n's daughter.” He lets out a pitiful chuckle. “I won't question it, but to each their own.” 

As the old man walked off, Caleb hummed, his hand going to his pocket, patting it affectionately as he walked on through the streets.

He grabbed some pumpkin bread, the honey, and roasted almonds on it making it smell heavenly. 

He collected some gifts. A doll, a kite, perfumes, and a watch. 

And then he headed off towards Linkon's hill village. 

*** Hot water splashed onto the weathered wood floorboards, the basin full to the brim. Sprigs of lavender, rosemary, and orange slices floated on the water, and Mrs. L/n poured fresh milk into the tub. 

“Is this really necessary?” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not getting in there- I won’t even be selected.” “Yes, you are. And I’m tired of you not listening to me.” “Mother- owowowowowowow!” 

The older woman grabbed her ear, pinching it lightly as she pulled her daughter towards the tub. Y/n held onto the wall, protesting. “I’m not going in there you; put milk in there! It’ll feel weird!” “Take the damn bath, child! Eva! Call your sisters and come here!”

“Coming, Mother!”

In moments, Y/n’s sisters came into the room. Eva smiled cheekily. “Today’s the day~!” “Like hell it is.” She shot back, wriggling in her mother’s grip. “You all act like you want me to get picked! Does Gran even know what you’re doing? Ma?” Her mother looked away, her hands going to the clasp on the back of Y/n’s dress. She undid it quickly, and the fabric pooled at her feet, ignoring her question.

“Strip out of your garments- Gods, you reek- is this wool? Y/n! You messed with the sheep again!” “I did not! I was with the ram- hey!” She placed her hand on the back of her head, the sting from her mother’s popping strong.

Lucy laughed, her chubby hands taking the stripped clothes to the wash.

“You’ve all gone mad. I hope you know that.” It comes out as a grumble, but she goes into the tub. But as soon as she stepped in, she complained. “The water’s freezing!” “That’s what you get for talking so long.” Her mother quipped. Her face sours as an orange slice touches her knee.

Raising her leg, Eva takes it, scrubbing it down as her mother starts to work on her hair. She hisses, her scalp tender as it gets scrubbed as well. 

“The weather is lovely, isn’t it?” “Just dandy.”

“What time is it?” “Half after 12, mother.” “Lord! We need to hurry then.” “Did you always have such a strawberry complexion, sister?” Y/n kicks water at her sister. “Quiet, you-”

She’s interrupted by her mother pouring a bucket of water over her head. Her hair gets thrown in her face, and she swallows some soapy, milky water, sputtering and coughing.

“Both of you, quiet. I’ll be damned if our good name is tarnished because you both decide to act like Neanderthals.

Y/n coughed out some more water. “I think calling me a Neanderthal isn’t fair- but Eva on the other hand- Oh my fucki- can you stop getting soap in my eyes?!”

“Language!”

***

Y/n shivers as she steps out of the basin, her arms crossed, knees turned, and locked. 

Some of the rosemary was tangled in her hair, but she paid it no mind.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Eva grabbed a comb, getting to work on untangling the knots and rosemary in her hair.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You would still get picked if you were covered in cow shit, so cease your bitching,” her mother shot back, not missing a beat as she scrubbed her daughter’s hair with renewed vigor.

Y/n's mouth dropped open, and she groaned. “You’re impossible!”

But her mother only raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, complaining like always.”

Lucy waddled into the room, her small arms bundled up with a light blue chemise gown, the fabric soft and worn from years of storage. The short sleeves were cuffed, and though the dress had once been elegant, it was now out of date- the gaudy stitching showing the era it was from. Y/n’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Lucy was holding.

“You can’t seriously expect me to—” Y/n began, her voice rising in protest.

But before she could finish, her mother yanked the towel off her body with practiced efficiency. “Of course not,” Mrs. L/n replied, her tone calm and unwavering. “Not until you’ve been plucked.”

Eva stepped forward, smirking as she handed her mother a razor, her grin mischievous. Y/n stared at it, her lips parting in disbelief. “Oh, come on...”

Mrs. L/n motioned for the sisters to leave. Eva, Lucy, and the others filed out, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they shut the door behind them, leaving the room unusually still. The bright daylight streaming through the window seemed too cheerful for what was about to happen.

Y/n sighed heavily and sat on the small stool, arms wrapped around herself in half-hearted defiance. Her mother wordlessly knelt beside her, taking the razor and beginning the task of smoothing over her skin with slow, deliberate strokes.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the quiet scrape of the blade against her skin, the soft splash of water, and the occasional sigh from Y/n. It was a silence filled with things left unsaid, the weight of what was coming pressing on both of them.

Y/n looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on the towel. "I still don't think this is going to work. They'll want someone else," she murmured, not meeting her mother's eyes.

Her mother didn't respond immediately, her hands steady as she worked. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "It’s not about what they want, Y/n. It’s about what you’re worth. Remember, the better you do, the better we all do."

“Why do you want me to get picked so badly?” Y/n asked quietly, her voice trembling despite her attempts to sound nonchalant. “You know I’ll mess up.”

Mrs. L/n paused mid-stroke, her hands hovering for a moment before continuing, the razor gently gliding over her daughter's skin. She didn't meet Y/n’s gaze, but her words were firm.

“I don’t want you to go. What gave you that idea?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the blunt response. Her throat tightened, but she said nothing, the silence suddenly heavy between them. 

Her mother’s eyes were fixed on her task, but the strain in her voice betrayed her emotions. “You think I want to see you paraded around like livestock? Gods know I don’t.” She set the razor aside for a moment, finally looking up at Y/n. “But if you’re chosen… at least you’ll be safe.”

Y/n swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. For once, she had no sharp retort.

"...They'll smell the farm on me," Y/n tried to joke, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "And it's not like the town doesn't have a reputation for me."

Mrs. L/n froze, her brow furrowing before she snapped, "Y/n M/n L/n. You will stop talking this instant!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, the razor clattering against the basin. “Ugh, by the Gods, you will jinx yourself, and no amount of rosemary will be able to fix it!”

Y/n bit her lip, stifling a laugh despite the tension in the air. She knew her mother meant well, but the whole situation still felt so surreal—so out of place for someone like her.

There was a knock on the door. Y/n's head snapped toward it, her brows knitting in confusion. Her father’s voice called through the wooden frame, calm and warm as always. 

“The boy is here, my loves.”

Y/n frowned. "Caleb? What’s he doing here?"

Mrs. L/n didn’t answer, her focus entirely on finishing the task at hand. She ignored Y/n’s questioning gaze and continued to move the razor carefully, finishing her legs before working up to her cunt.

"Never mind that," her mother finally said, her tone clipped. "We need to finish."

She turned toward the door, calling out in her usual brisk, commanding voice, “There’s a roast in the oven! Check it for me, please!”

“Aye, I will,” her father replied, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Y/n slouched slightly on the stool, still puzzled. “He does know today is the collection, right?” Y/n asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Perhaps he’s wishing to bid you good luck. But it will have to wait,” her mother replied, still focused on her work.

“Oh.”

Y/n sighed, the thought lingering in her mind. It made sense enough. They had talked about their plans—what they would do if she didn’t get picked. Caleb would take his father’s horse, and they’d ride out of Linkon together. A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the silly memory of him telling her the same thing every year. 

But she hadn’t seen him lately; he was always busy with family matters, tending to the farm, or preparing for whatever life awaited him. 

Once Y/n was dressed, she stood stiffly, adjusting the light blue gown that felt foreign against her skin. “I can feel every stitch, Mama.”

“It’s because your skin’s bare. It’s a good feeling. A good thing,” her mother replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“I’ll get cold easier.”

“Oh please. You weren’t even furry,” her mother teased.

Y/n let out an unexpected laugh, the tension breaking for just a moment. But then the door swung open, and her father stepped in, whistling a cheerful tune.

“There she is. My darlings!” He kissed his wife and then pressed a warm kiss to Y/n’s cheek. He pauses. “You smell like the farm.”

Y/n shot a look at her mother. “Told you so.”

“He's messing with you,” her mother said, rolling her eyes.

Just then, Caleb ducked his head under the doorframe, a bright smile on his face. “Good evening, Mrs. L/n. I’ve brought gifts.”

“Gifts? You shouldn’t have!” her mother exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“I wanted to,” Caleb said, his tone sincere.

“Oh, you sweet boy. Come, let’s go talk.” Mrs. L/n took Caleb’s hand, pulling him out of the washroom. 

As their eyes met, Caleb’s purple gaze sparkled with a kind of mischief that made Y/n’s heart race. She felt her cheeks heat up but managed to wave, a shy smile breaking through her earlier worries.

Once they left, Y/n found herself alone with her father in the warm, sunlit room. The air was thick with the lingering scents of lavender and rosemary, remnants of her mother’s frantic preparations. Mr. L/n glanced out the door, ensuring it was securely closed before turning to face her, his expression suddenly serious.

“Are you nervous, child?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a contrast to the bustling energy that had just filled the space.

“Nervous?” Y/n echoed, furrowing her brow in confusion. “About today?”

“Hm... no, can’t say I am.” She crossed her arms, trying to project confidence, but the truth was a tangle of emotions lay beneath her surface.

He studied her for a moment, the lines on his face deepening with concern. “You’re a horrible liar. That’s my fault. Should have taught you better.”

“Papa—”

“Listen. You’re no fool. You’ve got a good head on you,” he said, placing a hand on his chin, his thumb tracing the stubble there as he exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a storm cloud.

Y/n felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her heart racing as he continued. “That boy is going to propose. And you need to accept.”

Her eyes widened in shock, disbelief flashing across her face. “Huh?”

“That's how you don’t get picked,” he insisted, his tone firm yet gentle, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But—”

“Listen to me, child. You need to accept—today. Before it’s too late. Once you’re engaged, they can’t collect you.” 

“To Caleb?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The idea danced in her mind like a flickering flame, both enticing and frightening. Would it truly save her? 

“Yes!” he affirmed, leaning closer, his eyes locking onto hers with a fervent intensity. “You think we have luck when it comes to this sort of thing? We don’t,” Mr. L/n continued, his voice lowering even further as he leaned closer. “We should have married you to him months ago, but there was never an opportunity. We have the papers. You just need to have some witnesses—”

“You cheated the system?!” Y/n whisper-yelled, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and indignation.

“Of course I did!” he replied, a hint of pride breaking through his urgency. “I did it to protect you. You have no idea what they do to the girls they collect. We have to outsmart them.”

“I can’t marry Caleb! Are you crazy? I don’t even want to get married—” Y/n protested, her voice rising in disbelief.

“This isn’t about what you want! You love the boy; he loves you!” Mr. L/n countered, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah, but—” she started, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words.

“Listen to me,” he urged, his voice softening as he stepped closer. “This is about survival. The kingdom doesn’t care about your dreams or desires; they only see you as another name on a list. But if you’re engaged, they can’t touch you.”

Y/n took a deep breath, the reality of her situation weighing heavily on her chest. “What if Caleb doesn’t want this? What if he thinks I’m just using him?”

“Caleb knows—he's been helping orchestrate this!” Mr. L/n interjected, a mix of urgency and relief washing over him.

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean he knows? How could you—?”

“I spoke to him. He understands the situation, Y/n. He’s been looking out for you, and he wants to keep you safe.” Her father’s voice softened, but the intensity of his words remained.

“Caleb is in on this?” she asked, her mind racing. The idea that Caleb had been part of this plan, that he had considered her fate alongside his own, sent her heart racing.

“Yes! He cares for you deeply, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect you,” Mr. L/n explained, a hint of pride- and something else- in his voice.

She closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning Caleb’s kind smile and the playful banter they shared. Could he really be ready for something so serious? The thought of it both terrified and thrilled her. 

***

Caleb sat in the dingy dining room of the L/n household, his hand absently resting in his pocket. The scent of roasted meat wafted through the air, mingling with the musty smell of the worn furniture. Truthfully, the L/n farmland was rich and fruitful, bursting with potential, but the home itself felt shabby and neglected.

“Once we’re married, I can fix this place up…” he mumbled to himself, envisioning the changes he could make. The walls painted fresh, new furniture, perhaps even a small garden where Y/n could grow flowers. His heart swelled at the thought.

In the corner of the room, her sisters and mother were clustered together, giggling and gushing over the gifts he had brought—colorful ribbons, handmade trinkets, and sweets. Their excitement filled the air, but Caleb was lost in his own thoughts, barely noticing their chatter.

It wasn’t until Y/n emerged from the washroom, her father beside her, that he realized she was near. His heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the room, her vibrant orange hair catching the light. She looked radiant, even in the simple gown she wore, and a smile spread across his face as their eyes met.

“Good evenin', Y/n,” he greeted, warmth flooding his voice. “You look lovely.” 

Y/n’s cheeks flushed as she returned his smile, but there was an uncertainty in her gaze that made him wonder what was going through her mind. He wanted to ask about the selection ceremony, about her feelings, but for now, he simply stood there, hoping the moment would allow for the words to come.

“Er, hello, Caleb,” Y/n replied, her voice slightly shaky but warm.

He chuckled, a playful glint in his purple eyes. “You look like a strawberry.”

Eva snorted from the corner, unable to stifle her laughter. Y/n cleared her throat, determined to hold her ground. “Yes, well, thank you. They’re in season.”

“Are they now?” Caleb’s tone was teasing, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile despite the slight embarrassment. Strawberries weren’t in season, but he enjoyed the banter.

“They are,” she insisted, a spark lighting up her eyes.

“Then I trust you know where the ripe one is?” His gaze was warm, his smile contagious.

Y/n felt her cheeks flush deeper, but before she could respond, he gently took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. Together, they walked out of the house, the chatter of her family fading behind them.

As they stepped into the sunlit yard, the gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea, mingling with the earthy aromas of the farm. Caleb turned to her, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I’ve been thinking about what’s happening today…”

Y/n’s heart raced. She knew this was the moment to speak up, to share her fears and her father’s plan. But for now, she let the warmth of his hand and the softness of the afternoon settle around them, hoping to find the right words as they moved further from the house and deeper into the lush fields.

“Listen... I wanna marry you—” Caleb began, his tone earnest.

“Yes,” Y/n interrupted, her heart racing.

“What?” His expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face.

“Yes! I’ll marry you,” she declared, her excitement bubbling over.

“Let me finish,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

Y/n looked at him, confusion evident in her eyes.

Caleb’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “Y/n. Don’t get me wrong. You’re a beautiful woman. And we’re good friends. But really, it’d be more of an exchange. I’ll marry you. But I want your father’s farm.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” he pressed, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to secure the land. The L/n farm is rich, and with your hand in marriage, I’d have both a partner and a stake in something that could thrive.”

Y/n felt her heart drop. The warmth of the moment had evaporated, replaced by a chill of realization. “You want to marry me for the farm?” she asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

Caleb’s expression hardened, his jaw set. “You thought this wouldn’t have an exchange? Marriage is a contract. I keep you safe, I get the land.”

“I can’t give you what isn’t mine,” Y/n shot back, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Look, you’re inheriting the farm. Your father is old. When I marry you, I inherit the farm instead. You’ll still have your sheep and goats, but I want you to stay in the gardens with the flowers.” He stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Think about it. I’ll spruce the place up, combine our land. We can make a name for ourselves!”

Y/n stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. “You’re talking about my life as if it’s just an asset, Caleb! What if I don’t want to be tied to the farm? What if I want to travel, to explore beyond Linkon?”

He paused, the intensity in his eyes faltering. “But this is our home! This is where our lives are. We can make it better together.”

Caleb’s expression softened momentarily, but he quickly masked it with determination. “I’m not trying to control you! I just see potential—”

“Potential for what? For you to fulfill your dreams at the expense of mine?” Y/n felt anger bubbling inside her. “You’re reducing our relationship to a business deal!”

“I’m trying to think practically!” he insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “We live in a harsh world, Y/n. If you get chosen today, it could be the end of everything for us. I just want to protect you!.... I care about you. But this isn’t just about us. It’s about doing what’ll be best.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Y/n looked at him.

...Why did it feel scripted?

She ignores the brief thought, letting it slip just as quickly as it had arrived. “I need time to think,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t have time to think,” Caleb said suddenly, pulling a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. “I got the ring. Just wear it.”

“You’re kidding,” Y/n replied, disbelief flooding her voice.

“I’m not,” he insisted, his gaze steady.

“Caleb—” she started, but he interrupted her.

“That farm is precious, and your family doesn’t even see it. Just marry me and let me help you.”

Y/n’s heart raced as she stared at the ring. “You can’t just expect me to decide everything right now! This is my life we’re talking about!”

“I know it is! But we’re out of time. If you don’t make a choice before the selection, you could end up as one of those girls, the ones that don't get anything good!”

The gravity of his words settled in her chest like a stone. She thought of the stories her grandmother had told her, the dark legends woven through the village about the gathering and the sacrifices. The idea of becoming one of those girls made her stomach churn.

“Caleb, this isn’t the way,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m being sold off or bartered for land.”

“But you wouldn’t be! You’d be marrying someone who loves you, who wants to protect you!” He took a step closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “Please, just wear the ring. We can figure everything else out together.”

Scripted. It felt so scripted. But why?

Y/n felt torn, her heart battling against her mind. The prospect of safety and partnership clashed with her desire for freedom and choice. “I… I need to think about it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Look, if you’re not gonna marry me, I can wait for Eva. Or I’ll marry Lorraine—”

“Eva? Lorraine? Excuse me? Them of all people?” Y/n shot back, incredulous. The idea felt like a slap. Lorraine was the village gossip, always getting into trouble and never taking anything seriously. And her sister? Absolutely.

Caleb shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just saying, she wouldn’t mind. If you don’t want me, someone else will step in.”

“Right, because that’s how love works,” Y/n snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You can’t just jump from one sister to another like we’re some kind of game to you!”

“It’s not a game!” he argued, stepping closer, the tension thickening the air between them. “This is about survival, Y/n! Don’t you see? You can either have me fighting for you or risk being taken away, offered to the sea. I don’t want to lose you!”

Y/n’s heart raced as she considered his words again, the weight of the impending selection pressing down on her. The fear of the Dark Sea loomed larger than ever. “But I don’t want to feel trapped,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

Caleb softened, his expression earnest. “You won’t be trapped with me. We can make it work, and build a life together. Just think about it—before it’s too late.”

As she looked into his eyes, Y/n felt a swirl of emotions—fear, anger, and- disgust? But the thought of marrying him out of desperation gnawed at her conscience. “I need more time- stop saying we don't have it."

“Time is the one thing we don’t have,” he replied, frustration creeping back into his voice. “Please, just wear the ring. Show me you’ll consider this. I can’t bear the thought of you being chosen—”

“Y/n! Come on, we’re waiting for you!” Eva’s voice called from the house, pulling her back to reality.

Caleb took her hand, his grip firm but gentle, as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Insurance. Just in case,” he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling around them.

Y/n blinked, her heart racing, but before she could respond, laughter echoed from inside the house. Her family had gathered, and when they saw Caleb placing the ring on her finger, their cheers erupted like a sudden storm.

“Oh, look at that!” her mother exclaimed, beaming. “My darling Y/n is engaged!”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. “No! Wait!” But the joyous noise drowned out her protests. Eva clapped her hands, and Lucy jumped up and down, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Caleb! You clever boy!” Eva gushed. “We knew you’d come through!”

“But you don’t understand—” Y/n started, but her voice was lost in the commotion.

“Come here, you two!” Mrs. L/n pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, tears of joy glimmering in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. You’re all grown up!”

Y/n felt the weight of her mother’s affection, but dread settled heavily in her chest. She glanced at Caleb, searching for a flicker of understanding, but he was caught up in the whirlwind of celebration, a victorious grin plastered across his face.

“Now we can start planning the wedding!” her mother continued, clapping her hands together. “This is wonderful news! The whole village will be thrilled!”

Y/n’s heart sank. The idea of a wedding felt like a chain, tightening around her, and the implications of her father’s words crashed over her again. Marrying Caleb was supposed to be a lifeline, a way to escape the selection—but something was off.

“Are you really happy about this?” she whispered to Caleb, who was now being congratulated by her father.

He turned, his expression earnest. “Of course I am. This is our chance. You’ll see.”

But Y/n could only nod, a forced smile on her lips, as the celebration continued around her. 

And in the distance, carriages were coming, adorned with the rain clouds. 

taglist: @0chemicalwaste0 copyright © 2024 Hellinistical all rights reserved. no part of this story may be reposted, edited, or reproduced without the author’s permission.

[no1deepspacehater]

Caleb x Reader: Little Rascals

Tags: Fluff, making out, kisses!

AN: i hope all 3 caleb nation members enjoy this <3 we need him back LADS devs please I beg

 Caleb placed the plate of popcorn in your lap before taking a seat next to you on the couch. He made himself comfortable by taking a generous helping of the blanket you two were sharing. The living room was dark, save for only the TV light that was currently playing some old-school movie about a group of kids. 

 “Did I miss anything?” Caleb asked, reaching into your lap for a handful of popcorn. 

 “Alfalfa’s on this sweet date with Darla right now, you didn’t miss much.” You nodded, taking a couple bits of popcorn for yourself. 

 “Youuuu are so beautiful, to meeeeeeee” 

 Caleb starts to crack up at the prepubescent, cracky, singing voice. You shush him, elbowing him, attention fully glued to the move. “Shut up! It’s sweet!” you chided.

 Caleb, holding his hurt ribs and another hand covering his snickers. “He sounds like a squeaky toy!” You threaten to elbow him again, and he quiets down a bit more. 

 “Oh, Alfalfa, you’re a sweetie poo!” Darla exclaims as she kisses him, making his hair stand straight up!

 “Am I a sweetie poo, pipsqueak?” Caleb laughs beside you, making kissy faces at you.

 You put a hand on his face to push him away. “Please, that only works for a smooth kid like Alfalfa, and you are not that.” You teasingly throw back at him. 

 “Hey, but I was a smooth kid!” 

 Giving him a side eye, you laugh. “You were not.” 

 Caleb leans back, a grin sneaking on his face as he leans back. “Looks like you’re getting memory problems, old lady.” He puts his finger on his lips in false thought. “I remember someone always asking me to ‘practice kissing’ with them… I think only a ‘smooth’ kid would have offers like that!”

 Face heating up at the memory, you threw popcorn his way to distract him from your red face. Yes, you had the biggest crush on your childhood friend. Well, ‘had’ would be a lie; you still do.

 When grandma wasn’t watching while the both of you played outside, you’d both slip behind a tree and ‘practice kiss’ like in those movies you’d both sneak to watch at night. Eventually, you both were caught and stopped; you’d thought he’d forgotten. 

 “You were the only other boy I knew.” You defended. 

 “We had Zayne.” 

 “Zayne would’ve said no, very quick and efficiently, might I add.” 

 “But you didn’t try to ask him.” 

 You rolled your eyes at his snide smirk. He was winning, and he knew it. “We were kids, anyway!” You tried to kill the topic. Any more of this, and you’ll explode. 

 Caleb puts an elbow on the edge of the couch, turning to you as he rests his head on his hand. “So, was I a good kisser?” 

 “I! Well…” He could obviously see how flustered you were. “It was too long ago! How do you expect me to remember that?” 

 Caleb’s eyes rake you in from up to down. He moves to take the popcorn bowl off of your lap, putting it on the counter. He settles his gaze on you again, this time letting his arm fall behind you on the couch. “We could do another ‘practice’.” 

 You turn your head to his finally, eyes locking with his. You could see he was dead serious with his proposition. His smile not so smirking, his eyes not holding that level of mischief it usually does when he’s teasing you (which is always). 

 “Let’s see how rusty you are then.” You don’t know how you managed such a line when your poor heart was about to beat out of your chest. 

 With proper consent, Caleb shifts forward. One hand lightly cups the side of your jaw as he leans in and connects his lips with yours. He places his lips between yours, lightly applying pressure repeatedly. His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, lightly massaging, sending occasional shivers through you. 

 Your hands find one place on his thigh, lightly gripping the strong muscle for your own sanity. The other placed on his chest, feeling the toned muscles underneath his t-shirt. 

 You pull back slightly after a while. Both of your lips hover over each other as you take a breather. 

 “Not bad.” He whispers against you. He moves to the side of your neck, placing light kisses here and there. You let out a slight gasp as he starts to suck on a susceptible spot. 

 “New technique?” You breathe out, and he stops to laugh. 

 He’s back on your lips now, using his hand to gently open your jaw and slide his own tongue in. The air is filled with light moans and small smacking sounds as you both tongue each other down. 

 Caleb shifts to get on top of you but is stopped when the sounds of a door opening and muffled footsteps come from the hall. 

 You split from each other in seconds, settling on either side of the couch as Grandma walks in. 

 “You’re both still awake.” Grandma laughs as she turns to continue on her way to the bathroom. “Don’t go to sleep too late now!” 

 As she leaves, Caleb lets out a laugh. “Do you think she’d still chew us out if she caught us again?” 

 “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out!” You laugh as well at the memory. Let’s just say Grandma can pull ears very hard. 

 Caleb looks over the couch down the hall to ensure you both were alone. He then leans over quickly, pressing a quick, final kiss. 

 “We’ll just have to practice some where else next time.” He grabs the popcorn from the table and turns off the TV. “Sleep well, pipsqueak.” 

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human Chapter 4: (Original Spinet Theme)

Written by 💕 enchantedchocolatebars 🍫 (me lol).

Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2 here.

Chapter 3 here.

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

Chapter 4 snippet here.

Thank you, @talisman975, for reading the parts of the chapter that I shared with you, as well as sharing your thoughts.

Tagging: @pokeycub

Enjoy ! <3

Heavy rainfall pelted down from the darkened skies on a Sunday in the Connecticut town of Gravesfield as a husband and wife were inside their home, enjoying each other's company, their love untouched by the storm brewing outside.

"Hello, little gentleman," Cadman said in a gentle tone, greeting and accepting the little blonde bundle that his wife placed in his arms.

"Look at that little face of yours," the brunette man commented with a chuckle, brushing aside the tiny, developing lock of hair growing above his son's forehead.

"You're already maturing into a handsome young man." Cadman soon pressed a kiss on Caleb's brow.

Even though Caleb was a bit of a handful, he was still a welcomed addition to the Wittebane family.

Cadman was content with holding and singing small songs to Caleb when he wasn't too exhausted, even if Caleb sometimes fussed.

After a significant amount of trial and error, the father found that carving small gifts or taking his son outside to observe the cardinals perched on tree branches were the most effective methods of soothing him.

Patience, who was about to give birth to another child in eight months, smiled at the two and kissed both of their cheeks before gazing down at Caleb.

"You're going to have a little brother to love, play with, and take care of when you're older, Caleb. Isn't that going to be so much fun?" the blonde mother asked.

Caleb gurgled excited baby noises at that news, causing both of his parents to laugh.

The blonde was already a very lively and cheerful boy at only 5 months old.

...

Small, dotted eyes that are cornflower blue slowly begin to open as Baby Philip witnesses the faces of his father and brother for the first time while being held gently by his mother as she sat up in bed, her back against her pillow.

As all three members of his family cast their warm, sunny smiles down on him, Philip reacts to the love he's receiving like a flower.

His small smile grows immensely as his little baby hands reach up without hurry to touch his parents and brother, which causes them to roar with hearty laughter.

A montage commences as the laughter in the room transitions to the start of this song.

...

As Kid Philip bolts into his shared bedroom, Caleb follows behind him at a slower speed, wielding a quill in his left hand.

The brunette proceeded to press his back against the wall behind his room door as he stood up straight, smiling fondly at his brother as he looked forward, sweet blue eyes gazing into warm brown ones.

Caleb, smiling back at his younger sibling, placed the pen horizontally above Philip's head, its tip facing the wall.

Moving the tip across the wall, the blonde creates a short, straight mark over Philip's head.

After Philip steps away from the wall, Caleb begins to record both his brother's height and age on it, with his height being written on the left side of the mark while his age is written on the right.

4. 5 feet - five-years-old

…

The early summer sun shone brightly in the afternoon sky, casting warmth across the atmosphere as Caleb cheerfully assisted his mother in churning butter on their farm, her hands over his as they cranked away at the churner.

Chirp-chirp-chee!

As Caleb gazes at the trees on the other side of the farm, believing that's where the chirps came from, the short, soft trills continue as a bird with vibrant red plumage flutters down and finds a comfortable spot to perch on.

Chrip!

Looking to his collarbone, Caleb spots a small male cardinal on his shoulder as he beams, brown eyes filled with excitement and wonder at the northern bird.

Patience gave a small, sweet laugh at her son's excitement, smiling fondly at both him and the cute little cardinal that he had.

She moves her hand over to gently pat the bird's head with her finger, being careful not to mess up his smashing hairdo.

…

The churned butter is quickly incorporated into a combination of wet and dry ingredients to create a cake topped with strawberries for Philip's 6th birthday, which is quietly celebrated in secret among the family.

…

Philip and his father exited a shop on All Hallows' Eve as the full moon illuminated the dark night sky.

The new carving knife Cadman had purchased to carve pumpkins at home with his boys was put in his pocket.

The two then heard a chorus of slow, lifeless moans coming from behind them and stopped in their tracks.

Cadman and Philip felt danger approaching as they slowly turned around and saw dozens of undeceased "witches" who had emerged from the dead, clearly seeking vengeance for their unjustified killings.

They were lumbering forward toward, in their eyes, two living sacks of human flesh that they planned to bite and have join in on their revenge crusade.

With wide eyes and a pounding heart, Cadman's instincts to protect his child quickly kicked in as he grabbed Philip's hand and soon bolted away from the pale green fiends.

Seconds later, Philip charges back at the death-dealing savages with his wooden sword, ready to send them all back to Heck where they belong, only for Cadman to bolt back after him.

Hurriedly snatching his son back with his right arm, Cadman takes off out of town, carrying Philip under his arm to prevent him from fleeing again.

…

With his boots and farm attire on, Cadman was ready to harvest his November crops.

His wife pulled out his brown leather hat from behind her back, placed it on his head, and planted a gentle kiss above his brow.

…

Cadman started cutting his crop stalks at a faster pace with his sickle as dark clouds surrounded the sky, not paying close attention to the sharp metal blade of his tool.

While working, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and the agonizing scream he exclaimed pierced the air.

As he slowly raised the hand he used to clutch his stomach, he noticed a dark crimson stain on his hand and quickly went wide-eyed.

He had a horrific look on his face as lightning flashed across the sky.

It was clear to him that his accidental cut could lead to more serious complications if he didn't return home promptly and have his wife take care of it.

As he stood, he made an effort to move quickly, but his injury was causing him to stumble while hobbling.

…

The furious storm continued into the night as Patience rested back in her rocking chair, reading a Bible story to her boys as they both listened keenly, sitting criss-crossed on the rug.

An urgent and loud bang on the door startled the three as Patience set her husband's Bible down and went to answer it.

The shrill scream from their mother caught Philip and Caleb off guard as she quickly rushed past them.

She directed the two to remain where they were while she went to retrieve a dampened cloth.

Although the boys had no idea what was happening, the sound of their father moaning in pain made their fret visible on their faces.

…

The dark, dreary skies matched the sadness that was brewing in the air as an undertaker laid Cadman's body to rest.

Patience sobbed heavily into her hands, unable to watch her beloved being buried as she and her sons stood on the side.

During her crying, her boys begin to shed tears.

They both clutch the lower half of their mother's dress, tightly holding onto the fabric as she wraps her arms around them for comfort.

…

Patience found it difficult to adapt to widowhood and life as an independent mother, but it was something she had to endure.

She frequently blamed herself for the death of her husband.

However, the presence of her boys made things less dreadful for her.

Caleb and Philip consistently assisted Patience with household tasks and always knew how to make her smile.

…

When Patience fell ill to an unknown sickness, it was up to Caleb to take care of her since he was the oldest child, with Philip occasionally doing what he could to help.

With the house's finances becoming more scarce, Caleb struggled to bring down his mother's fever, only with a wet rag at his disposal as Patience became more and more ill with every passing day.

…

One day, when Philip arrived home with a sack of apples that Caleb had instructed him to buy, he heard a faint echo of crying.

The reverberation spread throughout the hallway.

When Philip neared the dining room, he saw his brother with his head down on the table, wailing almost grievingly.

As Caleb slowly raised his head, he saw Philip and felt the weight of everything weighing heavily on him.

He stood up and ran to hug his brother tightly.

Philip was able to quickly understand what had occurred based on Caleb's emotions and was unable to move.

When the sack fell from his grasp and hit the ground, apples tumbled onto the floor.

Caleb was embraced with the same level of tightness by Philip, who quietly cried in his brother's arms.

…

At least Cadman and Patience were now buried side by side, as both Philip and Caleb couldn't imagine the two being apart even in death.

…

The death of their parents made neither boy want to remain in the house, as it was not the same without Cadman and Patience present.

Not only did the atmosphere lack the love of their parents, but the house's structure was starting to break down as well.

They needed a new house to live in.

…

Before they set off on their search for a new home, Caleb went into the chicken coop and said goodbye to all the birds that came into contact with him while Philip went into the stables.

Approaching his favorite brown stallion, the two proceeded to have a heart-to-heart as Philip reached up and gently ran his hand through the horse's mane while the horse pushed his nose into his palm.

A hug was soon given by Philip as he wrapped one arm around the horse's neck.

…

While the two brothers were walking hand in hand through the woods, they came across a brown wooden cottage at the end of the woods.

The wood was slightly worn, and shutters were dangling from their hinges on the two front windows, as observed by both of them.

As Caleb contemplated whether or not he and Philip should enter the house, an enthusiastic Philip ran toward the cottage.

Surprised by the sudden action, Caleb followed after, catching up with his brother as they entered the house.

Based on its current weathered condition, the wooden house seemed to belong to no one.

Well, no one except for the Wittebanes now.

…

At night, Philip had trouble falling asleep in his shared room as he heard Caleb's muffled cries, the blonde quietly sobbing into his pillow.

Caleb's current state left Philip feeling sad and sympathetic, prompting him to turn his gaze to the ceiling, fold his hands, and silently pray for God to bring his brother joy again.

Subsequently, he thanks God for taking care of the souls of his parents while they are in heaven.

…

Caleb awakens Philip the next day with a smile and eagerly urges him to get out of bed.

He wants to mark his height on their wall.

4. 6 feet - eight-years-old

Philip's growth excites both him and his brother as they cheer.

Caleb lifts Philip up and spins him around with joy, while the brunette giggles in delight as the music and montage come to a satisfying end.

...

"It looks like you're getting taller and taller every day, Pip," Caleb remarked with a sunny smile as he finished cooking breakfast for his brother on the black cast iron skillet.

He used the remaining flour, eggs, milk, and sugar to make it.

"Mm-hm!" Philip happily hummed in agreement with Caleb while seated at the dining room table with a wooden plate in front of him.

"Someday, I may even grow taller than you, Caleb," the brunette claimed with a great deal of confidence as he casted a playful grin, and his eyes immediately lit up at the the pancake being slipped onto his plate.

The cake was lumpy, as Caleb's always were, but Philip still enjoyed them nonetheless.

The blonde began to chuckle as he walked over to the water bucket and placed the used skillet inside it.

Returning to the table with a small glass bottle of maple syrup from the cabinet, Caleb poured the remaining amount onto Philip's pancakes.

Upon seeing the sweet, golden syrup flowing down on his food, the youngest's lips started curling up.

However, he noticed two empty chairs at the table, which were the seats his parents could have been sitting in alongside him if they were still alive.

His head began to swell with memories of them making the mornings more lively as he sighed, gazing down at his lap.

Caleb quickly noticed his fading smile and stopped pouring.

Philip soon felt a comforting hand gently make contact with his shoulder and slowly looked up to see his brother shining a small, reassuring smile at him.

Philip attempted to generate a smile of his own to reciprocate but was unable to do so.

"What's wrong?" Caleb asked, setting the syrup bottle down and taking a seat next to Philip.

Philip was quiet.

"Is it about... them?"

Caleb was aware that the loss of both of their parents was a sensitive topic.

Philip nodded slowly.

"Yes, and also...," he softly said before pausing, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.

"It's school," he admitted with a soft sniffle before continuing. "It's not the same without you, Caleb. Without you there, the other children don't seem to be fond of or interested in being around me."

The news he heard made the elder feel terrible as he looked at Philip's sad face.

Caleb's role as the household's breadwinner forced him to stop attending school and start working various jobs around town.

Working excessively made him feel fatigued, but it was for the benefit of Philip.

Caleb did his best to take care of his younger brother.

"I see...," the blonde said solemnly as he sighed but then managed to smile again.

"Hey, Philip," he began, wiping away his brother's fallen tears with his thumb.

"When you get back from school, let's play some of our favorite games together. I might even make you a surprise when I get back from working."

"Really?!" Philip gasped loudly as he sniffled, his smile reappearing on his face. "You promise?"

"I do," Caleb pledged, keeping his tone soft, as he and Philip proceeded to link their pinkies together.

...

"Are you all packed and ready for school, Pip?" Caleb asked Philip while standing at the front door with him.

Philip responded to the question with an energetic head nod while wearing his brown neck satchel.

He patted the bag twice with his left hand to indicate that everything he needed was inside it.

Caleb then quirked a brow and smirked with playful suspicion as he continued.

"You didn't include any dead birds or live snakes in your satchel, did you?"

Philip gave a simple smile before shaking his head.

"Philip..."

"I didn't!"

Behind his back, the brunette concealed his crossed fingers.

"I promise!"

Caleb smiled at his trustworthy little brother before opening the door, not feeling the need to check his satchel. "Good!"

He proceeded to embrace Philip tightly with love.

"Have a good day at school then," he whispered. "We'll see each other later."

The brunette hugged his brother back. "Okay, Caleb."

He hoped their hug would last forever, but as with all good things, it had to come to an end.

Once it did, Philip began his journey to school and turned to wave at Caleb.

"Bye, Caleb!"

Upon returning the wave, Caleb smiled. "Bye, Pip!"

Following Philip's departure, Caleb closed the door and headed for the stairs, needing to prepare for the busy day he knew he was going to have.

Knock, knock!

"Oh?"

Caleb proceeded to return to the door and opened it once again, believing that Philip must have forgotten something and came back to retrieve it.

On the opposite side, an older, familiar figure stood, gently holding a hen against his body.

He exhibited a lengthy white beard, tattered brown overalls, no shoes, and a brown hat that covered his bald head.

"Good morning!" Mr. Kookman chirped in a crackly and friendly tone, raising a hand up to greet Caleb while still maintaining a firm hold on his wife, Henrietta.

Yes, his wife.

She was a wonderful hen.

Mr. Kookman was the local kook and a neighbor to Caleb and Philip.

He resided inside the woods.

The man would frequently visit their doorstep to request essentials, such as...

"Could I borrow some spare breeches?" he politely asked as Henrietta clucked.

"Henrietta said good morning as well," Mr. Kookman informed Caleb with a chuckle.

"... Uh..." The blonde shifted awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head, shining a nervous smile.

He aspired to be polite, but at the same time, he was unsure about what to say.

...

Jesus Christ and one of his disciples, a name who went by the title 'The Witch Hunter Emperor', were casually mandering through a market.

The Emperor wore a large cape with white, brown, and gold trim under his Puritan attire, representing strength, righteousness, and purity.

As the two observed the fresh fruits and vegetables on display, the ground began to make slight movements, which soon became violent.

Citizens and sellers began to flee as panicked screams filled the air.

The shaking suddenly stopped, resulting in the appearance of a massive green serpant with small demon wings emerging from the ground.

The snake's menacing gaze is directed at Jesus and the Emperor, and it suddenly lunges at them.

...

"... And after they defeated the serpant with the power of prayer, Gravesfield is saved thanks to Jesus and his disciple, The Witch Hunter Emperor!"

Philip's smile beamed with sinless pride as he stood before his entire class, displaying his childlike journal illustration of Jesus and The Witch Hunter Emperor being tossed in the air by the cheering citizens for defeating the serpent.

"..."

The brunette was expecting a more boisterous reaction from his classmates rather than blank stares.

"Philip, can you explain what any of that has to do with the Ten Commandments?" his teacher asked with a tired sigh while sitting at her desk.

"Uh..." As Philip's smile slowly faded, his cheeks and ears blushed pink, and he turned away from the teacher's gaze and looked at the floor.

His tired teacher signed once more. "Go take your seat."

Philip quickly looked up. "But--,"

His teacher's sharp, sour expression instructed him to refrain from speaking back and immediately take his seat, which he did.

Despite some of his peers still choosing to look at him, Philip attempted to pay attention as another student was called up to the front.

...

After the teacher rang her handheld bell, the class was dismissed as students started to leave and go to the door.

As Madison was beginning to walk out of the school door...

"Hello, Madison!" A cheerful Philip did not hesitate to greet his crush as he popped his head up from the bush that grew on the left side of the school entrance.

He was intentionally waiting for her to come out after him so that he could ask her a question.

"Eee!" Madison's surprise was palpable as she quickly turned her attention to the bush on her left.

The redhead with her hair in a bun bonnet saw Philip.

"Philip?" she asked as she blinked a few times, wondering what the brunette was doing in the bush.

Philip nodded. "May I smell your hair?" he requested kindly with a smile.

His brother instilled in him the importance of using good manners.

"Uh... sure?" Madison told him tentatively as she leaned the side of her face forward, allowing Philip to get a whiff of her hair, despite his question to do so being odd.

Once he did, his face instantly lit up. "Madison, your hair! It smells so pretty!"

"Oh!" The compliment caused a bit of blush to appear on her cheeks as she smiled. "Thank you, Phil--"

"Did you take a bath?" Philip gave a smile as he thought his question was a flattering remark.

However, Madison didn't take it that way.

She let out an offended gasp, giving Philip a glare as she started to walk away, clearly upset by his choice of words.

"W-Wait!" Philip stammered as he stretched out his hand, not wanting Madison to go.

The redhead came to a stop on her leather shoes and turned around.

"What?" she growled with flushed cheeks, attempting to suppress her tears.

Philip opened his satchel and reached inside, grabbing the dead bird and living snake that were inside.

"L-Look! I have presents for you!" he shyly squeaked out as he smiled a nervous smile.

Madison's eyes widened at the two animals in his hands as she admitted a terrified shriek and quickly took off.

"You're weird!" she shouted while running.

Hearing those words echo in his head, Philip felt his heart split in two.

"Oh...," he softly said as he felt his shoulders and head drop, slowly letting go of the bird and snake.

...

Caleb walked along the path in the woods that would lead him to town.

'Alright then, Caleb,' he began to tell himself in his mind, his tone commanding and determined. 'Your first duty when you arrive in town is to help Mr. Town Minister.'

Caleb acknowledges what he mentally instructed himself to do with a nod.

Caleb's arrival in town triggers a montage of him working at his various jobs.

...

With buckets of soapy water and soaked sponges, Caleb and Mr. Town Minister started to remove the vandalism that was written all over the meeting house by an unknown witch.

The minister scrunched his brows and grumbled under his breath as he scrubbed away the impertinent insults that were written about him.

Meanwhile, Caleb had to bite his tongue to avoid laughing at the sentence that said, 'Mr. Town Minister is a doo-doo head'.

It could have all been inside Caleb's head, but he swore he could hear someone cackling a witch-like cackle in the distance, but he couldn't see them.

...

After the vandalism was removed, Mr. Town Minister thanked Caleb and presented him with his payment, which consisted of a basket containing a small pouch of coins.

...

An image of Caleb's basket slides down the scene, transitioning it to the town bakery.

Inside, Mrs. Doughberry hands Caleb a brown sack filled with expired baked goods and orders him to take them behind her shop to bury them.

Once that task is completed, his payment, a small slice of mildly sweet vanilla cake, is added to his basket as the scene transitions to Mr. Bartlett's horse barn.

Opening the stable doors while holding a pitchfork and bucket, Caleb's nose is immediately hit with the foul stench of horse manure.

He scrunches up his nose and grimaces, staying close to the wide, barn doors.

Although he didn't want to go inside, he knew he had to in order to continue sustaining his brother and himself, so he slowly entered and closed the doors behind him.

After the stables were free of manure and smelled a lot better, Mr. Bartlett dropped a small pouch stuffed with coins into Caleb's basket.

...

Caleb is seen resting his back against a tall tree in the center of the woods, using a scrub to gently brush the feathers of a calm Henrietta as she sat on his lap as if sitting on an egg.

Each brush stroke results in her releasing a soft cluck as she settles more into Caleb.

After the final scrub, Caleb walks over to Mr. Kookman and hands his wife over to him.

He beams and spins her with joy, taking note of her well-brushed feathers.

Tucking Henrietta under his arm, Mr. Kookman begins to take Caleb's payment out of his pocket.

Pulling out his basket from behind his back, the blonde receives a half-bitten woolen sock as his neighbor gives him a genuine smile.

Caleb smiles awkwardly at him, choosing to remain polite while thanking Mr. Kookman as the montage ends.

...

"Oh, Philip!"

Caleb was cheerful and upbeat as he opened the cottage door and stepped inside, holding his basket filled with earnings from a day of hard work as he closed the door.

Silence persisted in the air as the elder didn't receive a response.

'Hmm, perhaps he hasn't arrived home yet?' Caleb pondered to himself as he headed toward the dining area.

As the blonde arrived in the room, he suddenly gasped as he froze at the entrance, staring at the dejected sight.

The air was still with silence and sorrow.

"Philip?" A concerned Caleb called out quietly to his brother as he hurried over to the table, taking a seat beside him.

He placed his basket down before placing a comforting hand on his back, rubbing the area with great gentleness.

"What's wrong?"

No answer.

"Did something happen at school?"

No reply from the brunette.

After another brief pause, Caleb chose to ask another question, this one more well-considered.

"Would you like to have a discussion about it once you're ready to talk?"

Philip didn't respond right away, but when he did, he replied with a small sigh and nodded his head, which was down on the table.

"Very well then, Pip," Caleb whispered, managing to shine a small smile down on his brother.

"Take your time. There's no rush. Do you recall the surprise I promised to make for you when I came home?"

"Yes?" A silent Philip finally spoke, his tone soft and tearful.

"Well, how about you watch me work on it. As it's being crafted, you can make guesses on what it is. How does that sound?"

As Philip slowly looked up at his brother, his lips perked into a soft, bittersweet smile.

"That sounds like fun," he said, still thinking a bit about what happened between him and his crush.

...

With a bright smile and hands placed politely on his knees while sitting criss-crossed, Philip keenly watched his brother begin to add an eye hole to the wooden surprise he was carving for him.

"Oh, oh! I already know what you're making me, Caleb!" Philip excitedly exclaimed with a small bounce as he directed his finger at the progressing work.

"You're making me a mask!"

Caleb chuckled as he confirmed Philip's answer with a nod while seated on the sitting room stump, carefully sinking his knife into the second eye hole he was creating.

"That's right, Pip, I am," Caleb said, carving holes in the top part of the mask. "And I'm almost finished, too!"

"You are? Hooray!" Philip cheered, clapping his hands excitedly.

The elder gestured for the younger to hand him the two antler-shaped branches that were lying nearby on the floor, and once he did so with a giggle, Caleb attached them inside the holes like horns.

"Ooo, they look like mandibles!" Philip beamed out with a wide smile.

Caleb gave a chuckle. "Mandi-what, Pip?" he asked, puzzled by the new word.

"They're the mouthpart of an insect," Philip explained. "Beetles have them!"

Beetles were his favorite insects.

"Ooooh!" Caleb went in realization. "Hmm... I thought they looked more like deer antlers."

After a short-lived thought, he shrugged his shoulders. "I guess they can be both."

...

After affixing a string onto the mask, Caleb was finally done.

He smiled fondly at his creation, then at Philip.

"Look, Pip, I've finished your mask!" Caleb said, showing it to Philip. "Come try it on!"

Philip gasped.

"Oh, boy!" Springing toward Caleb, Philip took his new mask and placed it on his face.

"How is it?" Caleb inquired while watching blue eyes blink inside the rounded eye holes.

"It's..."

A shaky smile started to spread on Caleb's face as he watched Philip slowly direct his gaze to the ground in an almost eerie manner.

He didn't even notice his eye holes growing hollow.

Caleb silently prayed that his brother liked the mask.

"... Awesome!" Philip looked up to Caleb with a big smile, his eyes visible once more, which made the blonde breathe out a sigh of relief and wipe his brow.

"How do I look?"

"So cool!" Caleb complimented as he continued. "If a witch came across you, they would certainly perceive you as one of them."

Knowing that got Philip pumped, imagining himself as a great Witch Hunter General who managed to trick every witch he met wearing his mask before leading them to their deaths.

"Yay!" Philip beamed before speedily wrapping Caleb in a hug.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, so much, Caleb! Now we can play..."

"Witch Hunters!"

Both boys beam at the same time as they enthusiastically emerge behind a shiny pastel background filled with shimmering skulls and severed witch heads, with the words "Witch Hunters!" above them in rainbow glitter letters.

With Philip's wooden sword raised triumphantly in the air and Caleb, wearing his witch hat and cape during this moment, now raising his clenched fist, the scene transitions to the woods.

...

"Get back here, you speedy little witch hunter!"

"You'll never catch me, you fowl witch!"

Caleb, the wildest and most cunning witch in Gravesfield, was quite fast, but not as fast as Philip, the greatest and most feared witch hunter who ever lived.

A small, stealthy smile crept across Caleb's lips as he continued his mission to catch Philip, sharp brown eyes trying to pick out any sign of the hunter.

Caleb became more vigilant with every rustle of the leaves and trees, every crunch and snap of the twigs he stepped on, and every shadow that seemed to move independently.

Upon hearing a rustle behind a nearby bush, Caleb sprinted and was prepared to jump on it.

While running, he heard Philip taunt him from a distance and stopped, keenly listening.

"I'm not there, you silly witch. If you want to see me, you must go further," Philip advised, his daring voice echoing through the woods.

Caleb let out a giggle as he walked toward where he heard the echo.

This was by far his and Philip's most fun game of Witch Hunters yet.

"There you are, witch hunter!" Caleb approached Philip, who he saw standing on a small, rocky hill.

"So, this is where you chose to hide from me," he cackled, not paying much attention to the brown rope end that Philip was holding.

Philip shook his fist. "I wouldn't come closer if I were you, witch!" he warned, which only made Caleb cackle once more as he took another step.

"Oh, yeah?" the blonde hummed in a playful tone, holding up both of his hands as he was ready to cast a witchy spell.

Ominously wiggling his fingers, he asked, "And why's that?"

Caleb was standing precisely in the spot where Philip desired him to be.

The witch was oblivious to the fact that he had fallen into his trap with such ease.

Pulling tightly onto the rope end, the noose that was spread on the ground entraps Caleb as he loses balance and falls.

"That's why, witch!" Hopping down from the hill, Philip pulls out his wooden sword and raises it up over Caleb.

"Now DIE!" Philip roars, his eye holes hollow as he repeatedly plunges his weapon into Caleb's stomach.

The elder smiles broadly and closes his eyes, hanging his tongue out.

The "witch" was now "dead".

Placing his foot on the now "deceased demon", Philip takes on a heroic stance and wholeheartedly states, "Gravesfield is once again safe thanks to Witch Hunter General Philip!"

"Alright, Witch Hunter General," Caleb began as he broke character and opened his eyes.

"Time for us to play a different game," he chuckled with a smile.

...

A trio consisting of a woman in a coif and two men, one with dark hair and one with blonde hair, strolled smoothly through the town market.

As they began passing by a large wooden crate that was situated between two empty vendor booths...

PBBBT!!!

The horrendous sound immediately caused the three to stop, and they awkwardly shifted glances at one another, wondering who broke wind.

The woman, offended by the fact that the two gentlemen who were accompanying her would even assume that she would do such a sinful thing in public, begins to glare daggers at the two.

Tap, tap, tap, went her foot as she awaited for one or both of them to confess and repent.

When they didn't, the men both received sharp slaps to the faces from the woman as she huffed and walked away.

PBBBT!!!

Both men stared awkwardly at one another as they slowly backed away from each other.

Behind the crate, the faintest of giggles could be heard.

"I can't believe you convinced me to play such a game, Pip," whispered a giggly Caleb, who had just witnessed his brother blow the loudest raspberry. "It's so silly. If we get caught, we'll get into so much trouble."

"We won't," a giggly Philip whispered in a hushed tone as he pointed a finger at upcoming people. "Oh look, more people are coming, Caleb!"

Both boys began to form playful smiles.

A montage begins as various people pass by the crate that Philip and Caleb are hiding behind.

They hear a sharp and sudden raspberry, which they mistakenly believe is flatulence.

Their reactions, which were either confusion, shock, disgust, or embarrassment, cause the boys to chuckle quietly every time.

Caleb's chuckle attack is a result of Philip imitating a few of their reaction faces.

The boys continued to blow raspberries and softly laugh until the sky turned purple-black and was filled with stars, leading to the end of the montage.

...

"The sky sure is pretty, isn't it, Pip?" Caleb asked Philip.

The blonde found himself getting lost in the beauty of the night sky as he gazed upward, him and his brother still seated behind the large wooden crate.

"Mm-hm," Philip hummed listlessly in agreement, sitting with his knees drawn up as he gazed downward at the dirt, dragging his pointer finger across it.

Suddenly, a shooting star streaked brightly across the night sky.

Upon recalling his mother's words about shooting stars, Caleb gave a small gasp.

"Pip, look, look!" The blonde beamed, pointing a finger at the sky while gently tugging on his brother's yoke.

"Did you see that shooting star? It flew by so fast! We have to make a..."

As his brother sighed, Caleb gazed down at him, and all the enthusiasm in his voice slowly disappeared.

"... wish," he whispered, a look of concern crossing his face. "What's wrong, Pip?"

Philip sighed once more. "Do you remember when you asked me if something happened at school while we were at the table?"

Caleb nodded. "I do." The elder wrapped his arm around Philip's shoulder, pulling him close.

"Well," Philip softly continued, resting his head on Caleb's shoulder. "There's this girl that I really..."

Philip paused, not ready to reveal his feelings for Madison to Caleb.

"She... I tried to give her gifts, but she ran away and said that... I was weird."

"I see," Caleb said, softly rubbing his brother's back. "And what were the gifts you attempted to give her?"

"A dead bird and a snake," Philip revealed calmly. "They were really nice."

"O-Oh..." Caleb tried to conceal his shock by curling his lips into a small, caring smile.

"Well, you really like to write, Pip. Maybe you can write her an apology letter. I'll even try to help you with it. In addition to the letter, you can also give her gifts that are more... suitable for girls."

"Like what?" Philip asked innocently, looking up at his brother.

"Like... flowers!" Caleb answered. "Girls really like flowers. It's possible that if you gave this girl some flowers, she would really start to like you."

"Really?" The brunette started to perk up, knowing that they had flour at home.

Caleb nodded.

"Well, she did seem to really like it when I told her that her hair smelled pretty," Philip said, reminiscing on the moment as slight blush dusted his cheeks.

"I then asked her if she took a bath, but that's only because there's no way your hair could smell that good if you hadn't bathed, right Caleb?"

Before Caleb could react and respond to his brother's statement and question, both boys fell silent to the sound of upcoming footsteps.

Slowly poking their heads up, they both proceeded to see the shadow of a cloaked figure about Caleb's height, but slightly shorter, dawdling down the walkway.

The figure appeared feminine and had fluffy hair under their hood.

"Who is that?" Philip whispered, in which Caleb shrugged in response.

When the cloaked figure abruptly stopped between the crate and a booth on the right, they turned their head to the left, and Caleb and Philip quickly sunk down.

The mysterious figure's footsteps approached, causing both boys to feel their hearts race.

As the figure slowly attempts to peer behind the crate to determine who is present...

"THERE YOU ARE, WITCH!"

The figure, alarmed by the shouting, raises their head to see Mr. Town Minister running toward them.

Without delay, they start taking off immediately.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" the minister shouted once more as the cat and mouse chase between him and the figure continued.

A loud, witchy cackle was heard by the figure due to their speed advantage over the minister.

'There's that same laugh from earlier today...' thought Caleb as he and Philip snuck off in the direction that led them out of town.

...

"... Did you see the way the minister was chasing that witch?"

As Philip asked his question, his blue eyes were big and bright with admiration while Caleb nodded with a smile and a yawn as both boys entered their home.

After the front door was closed, Caleb continued to follow Philip.

"He's so brave!" the brunette beamed with cheer as he and his brother were nearing the dining room.

"I hope that when I become a Witch Hunter General, I'll be just as good at hunting witches as he is."

"Yeah, me too!" Caleb said, his smile still present as he yawned out a second yawn.

As soon as they entered the dining area, both boys gasped and widened their eyes at the unwelcome guest in the room.

"Hey!" Philip's shout seems to attract the attention of the white-tailed deer near the table.

It froze for a moment before lifting its head out of Caleb's basket, fixing its gaze on the two children.

The boys and the deer's stares were short-lived as the woodland animal used its teeth to grab hold of the basket handle before making a beeline for the sitting room, which caused Philip and Caleb to gasp and quickly give chase after it.

Choas and commotion dominated the atmosphere as rambunctious footsteps rang out from the running.

...

The Wittebane household was now in tune with the quietness of the night as faint and gentle snores could be heard in the sitting room.

Philip, Caleb, and the deer were sleeping in a cluster on the rug in the room, under a large blanket that was draped over them.

Meanwhile, the basket was atop the sitting room's stump.

[thepenultimateword]

Skin Crawl

CW: Bugs, Bug horror, bullying

Hero scrubbed uselessly at the permanent marker, but even with the rubbing alcohol stinging their nose and their shoulders sore from vigor, an outline of obscenities stubbornly marred the top corner of the desk.

Hero sighed, leaning back on their heels. How did they even get roped into this? They’d only pointed out the spattering of language to their teacher so that they could punish those responsible. They hadn’t been volunteering to clean up the mess themselves. But the teacher had seemed so pleased with their willingness to help…how could they have refused?

They glanced to the back of the classroom where their dark haired classmate leaned way back in their seat, feet kicked up on their desk, book held open directly overhead.

“Are you…going to help?”

“Sure,” they waved without looking away from their page. “You can go if you want. I’ll do the rest.”

Hero straightened their aching back. “Will you?”

It came out a little snarkier than they’d intended, but Villain wasn’t exactly known for their work ethic. They were always coming to school late, staring off, or ignoring assignments. Unlike Hero, they hadn’t volunteered for classroom cleanup.

Villain cocked their head to the side, raising one dark brow. “How many times have you cleaned this classroom?”

“Well, just this once—“

“How many times have I cleaned this classroom?”

“How am I supposed to know? I don’t count all the times you mess around—“

“Oh yes, you do. You have that cute little book with all the tallies.”

Hero’s face burned.

But for some reason, Villain didn’t sound angry, just…making a point.

"Go on, open up to my page. Tell me how much experience I have staying after school."

Hero shouldered their backpack with a huff. "Ok, I get it. Just...make sure you drop the classroom key at the office when you're done. I don't want to lose the staff's trust because of you."

"Yes, master," Villain said and went back to their book.

Hero hesitated. Part of them still didn't trust their classmate to continue where they'd left off. Could this be a ruse to get them in trouble? Or maybe they just wanted Hero out of their hair and didn't care about the consequences.

Or maybe you need more faith in people.

Ugh. That was hard when everyone in this school had proven untrustworthy. Even the friends they'd made from the 'good crowd' hadn't lasted past the first month of the school year. None of them had what it took to stand up against immorality. They'd rather turn a blind eye and cut ties with anyone who might stir up the hornet's nest.

Whatever.

They grabbed their notebook off their desk and whisked out of the room. Now, what misdeeds had they borne witness to today? They flipped open to the middle of the boo; they might as well report these to the office before heading home.

11:45am--Caleb stuck gum on the inside of his desk sticking together the pages of the math textbook

11:50--Kayla texted in class for half an hour straight and did not complete any of her schoolwork.

12:30--An unknown underclassman with red hair shoved a smaller boy at lunch and took his place in line (please identify).

12:45--Taylor C. was making out with her boyfriend in front of the east stairs between classes, blocking off the way for anyone needing to use them. She also used some choice language against a well-meaning student who asked her to refrain until they left the grounds.

12:48--Victor verbally harassed an underclassman girl in the hallway despite her repeated refusals for acquaintanceship; he did not respond well to outside interven--

Hero's notebook hit the floor with a loud smack.

For a moment all they could do was stare at their empty hands in shock, then they lifted their gaze to the sneering, chiseled face in front of them.

"How many times did it make it into Book Golden Rule now?"

"Only once today, Victor," Hero said, bending for the book. Victor snatched it just before their fingers could brush the spine. At about the same moment, someone kicked them behind their right knee. Hard.

Hero gasped, collapsing onto the sneaker-smudged tile.

Victor flicked casually through the pages, stopping at his own tally sheet near the front. "Wow, my infraction rap is growing. You must be obsessed with me or something. Kinda gross but I guess you can't help it."

A chorus of laughter sounded over Hero's shoulder, and suddenly they were surrounded on all sides. They defiantly looked into the perpetrator's faces, memorizing identities: Caleb, Rick, Renna.

"Just give it back," Hero said dryly. "You're only making this worse on yourself."

Victor laughed now. "Really now? Your self-righteous ego is so big you still think you've got the upper hand here?"

"Not physically obviously, but anything you do to me, I'm just going to add it to my report."

Victor stared Hero dead in the eyes and slowly tore the notebook in half.

"I'm going to beat you so soundly, you won't even look at me without peeing yourself. You're going to look away from everything I do because all you'll remember is the pain of this moment.

"I'd never turn a blind eye for my own personal--"

The words scattered as Victor's fist met their mouth. Before they could recover he hit them again. And again. And again. A cleated food hit them from behind, sending a stab of electric agony up their spine. Dangerous. This wasn't just a scuffle. They wanted to seriously hurt them!

The next punch threw Hero on their back. They'd never been one for envy, but suddenly they wished they had one of those combat powers, super strength, invincible skin, knife fingers, anything actually useful for defeating evil!

Army boots smashed over their fingers.

Hero screamed.

"Shut them up!" Victor snarled.

Caleb's shaved head bent over them, and something knit and strongly scented of sweat was forced between their teeth and far enough in to make them gag. They spasmed but movement only made Caleb lean in harder. They couldn't breathe!

Where was the principal? Where were the teachers? Someone had to be hearing this? Someone here had to care?

The boots hit their ribs and tears gathered in their eyes.

"Aww, the wittle baby is cwying," Renna said. She balanced one foot on the center of Hero's chest and slowly leaned in her weight. "How does it feel when someone steps on you?"

Hero wanted to say that exposing someone for cheating wasn't crushing anything deserved, but there was too much sweater down their windpipe.

"Hey."

The group jolted and some of the wight lifted. Hero's vision was blurred, but between Victor and Rick's shoulders, they made out unkempt midnight hair and lanky limbs. Villain.

"If it isn't Psycho," Victor practically purred. "You want to get a few blows in too? Go nuts."

Hero's screaming insides twisted. They cared more about facts than rumors but they'd also never been this helpless in front of their dark classmate, as alone and outcast as they were but for totally different reasons. Villain supposedly had a penchant for macabre experimentation. Students said they had a devil in them. That they ate the raw innards of animals to feed it and placed curses on anyone who messed with them. There was even a rumor that they dissected a kid who made fun of them in class. Hero always found that one ridiculous, the student probably just moved away. But now, pinned and gagged and Villain getting closer they were having doubts.

Villain stopped directly in front of them. "Let the angel go."

Victor gaped for a moment. "Are you kidding? They write you up almost as much as me. You think all those after-school detentions come from thin air?"

Villain only slow blinked. "I'm giving you 5 seconds to get out of here before I do go psycho. Unlike angel, my problem-solving is more physical."

"Get out of here," Victor said waving Villlain away before back toward Hero, though the rest of his crew looked a little more nervous.

Villain shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Their mouth opened wide, cavernous. The inside might have actually been black for all Hero could see. Though something almost seemed...to move.

The first centipede dropped on Renna's boot.

"What the..." She kicked it off, lip curled in disgust. "Did you just throw--" As she turned back, she let out a splitting scream. Everyone whirled. Caleb lost his grip on the sweater gag, and Hero finally managed to roll to the side, coughing and spitting. When they raised their head again a mass of black centipedes scurried across the floor, swarming the group's shoes and wriggling up their legs. The great arthropods dropped in heavy droves from Villain's lips, some crawling down the sides of his face and neck in rapid desperation to get to the floor. Through it all Villain was still and unflinching though their eyes danced with dark amusement.

"You freak!" Victor shrieked slapping off bugs--all four perpetrators were already littered with angry bites. "You're possessed! You're--"

He cut off as a low buzz gathered in the back of Villain's throat, this time the bugs emerged as a cloud, a swarm of wasps, as black and large as the centipedes.

"Forget this!" Rick cried, taking off at top speed Renna and Caleb were close behind. Victor looked like he wanted to curse them out but all he managed was a rude hand gesture before taking off after his posse.

The centipedes followed in a dark wave, cutting a path on either side of Hero. Villain let them go, though a deep inhale sucked the wasp swarm, and a few stragglers on their shirt, back down.

Hero stared. Villain stared back. Hard black eyes evaluating. Hero's breath caught in their chest, which was probably for the best. It hurt to breathe right now.

“You know it’s being an insufferable goody two shoes that keeps getting you in trouble," Villain finally said.

Hero rose achily to their feet, brusquely wiping their face with a stifled sniffle. "Yeah, well...no one asked you." Tears threatened to spill full force over their lashes, so they began quickly gathering up the pages of their shredded notebook. "I'm going to have to add a tally for physical violence in school. I can't be biased."

Villain barked an incredulous laugh. "You're really something else, you know that?"

"And you have centipedes living in your stomach."

"Not sure if they actually live there, more like they materialize there when I want them."

"And how'd you figure that out?"

Villain smiled. "You mean you don't commonly dream of centipedes?"

Not really an answer but Hero snorted, catching themself with a wince on the wall as they did.

Slender fingers gripped their shoulders. "You should sit down."

Hero obeyed without argument. They probably looked completely pathetic right now. Tear stained, bruised, shaking. They'd always sworn it didn't matter how many people disliked them as long as they had their dignity. So much for that.

Hero ducked their head between their knees.

"Why'd you help me? Victor's right. I get you in trouble almost daily."

Villain slid down on the floor next to them. "Yeah. But being a massive pain in the butt doesn't mean you deserve to get beaten up. Besides, some of the things they do need to be exposed. And...it's impressive that you're not scared to do it."

Hero didn't fully know how to respond. That someone needed to care? That obviously when five students screaming at the top of their lungs didn't even crack a door there was a problem? Yes, they'd realized early on that putting things on paper was the best way to get results, but it wasn't like they were completely without ulterior motives either. Did choosing to confront the bad for self-serving motives make them any better than those who turned away? Villain had called them angel. But they were far from it.

"Is it a power?" Hero said, shoving away the thoughts and pointing at their mouth instead.

Villain nodded.

“Cool.” They couldn’t help the note of awe.

“Really?”

Hero looked them head on. “Yeah. I guess it’s unconventional, but you took on four people and won without moving an inch. That’s a real power.”

"You don't think it's disgusting?” For the first time Villain looked something close to vulnerable. Like Hero’s reply had thrown them off so much they’d forgotten their nonchalance. “It doesn’t make your skin crawl?"

"Not really." Hero looked up and down the vacant hallway. They wet their lips, took a deep breath, and shed their skin. They’d done it in the mirror enough times to know it was disturbing. It wasn’t the sort of shapeshifting that happened in glamorized movies. It was messy. Sometimes bloody if they went too fast. They looked at Villain with a mirror of their face. “That make your skin crawl?"

Villain grinned. "Not really."

A beat.

“So that’s how you get the dirt on so many people.”

Hero flushed and shed back into their own skin.“Most of the time yeah. They usually cover things up if they see me.”

Villain’s eyes roved them up down, hard and cutting and dark, like black diamonds. “Amazing.”

Hero shrugged, trying to pretend that gaze was not cutting them to the core. “It’s not a useful power. I connive against evil. I don’t beat it. After graduation I want to try for Allegiance Academy but…well you saw. What hero team would want someone who can’t even fight? Even with combat classes I’d never compare to the big powerhouses.”

Villain didn’t respond.

Great. Hero opened up to much. They’d gotten whiny with a practical stranger. They’d gotten Hero out is tight spot, not asked for their life’s dreams and woes

“Don’t hero teams need reconnaisance?” Villain said

Hero blinked. “I guess so.”

They’d never really thought about it before. That wasn’t the sort of role that showed up on the news. It wasn’t the thing that got peace prizes or admirers. But…maybe that was fine. They’d always craved power for the sake of being accepted into the academy and eventually chosen for a team, not for the sake of attention. Besides they were used to being alone; they were fine with it.

"Well, I better finish that cleaning," Villain said, pushing to their feet. "I wouldn't dare risk another infraction."

"Villain," Hero said before they got too far.

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For the help. You're...good."

Villain crooked a smile. "Never been called that before. Probably won't again. But I appreciate it."

With that, they were gone.

Perhaps Hero didn't need to be alone after all.

8 years later…

Hero straightened their silk tie in the rearview mirror, a silvery ribboned thing they normally wouldn't have gone for but couldn't say they disliked. Though maybe that was because it suited this face. Round, prim, pink-lipped, nothing like their own drab, haggard countenance. They swore each time they returned to their true skin it looked worse.

They quickly double-checked their current contours with the photo in their glove box. "So, this is our target's lover?"

"Remy Navarro," their earpiece crackled. "They've been together six months, and they are very involved in this villain's inside plans. We're thinking 24 hours tops before you come across something big."

Hero stepped out of the car and began weaving their way through the menagerie of fine-dressed gala members. "Ok, well you rushed me into this, anything else I should know before I find this criminal overlord?"

Their teammate hesitated at the other end of the line. "Just don't act surprised about the legs."

"Legs?" Hero said. "As in, they look weird?"

"As in. there are extras."

"Excuse me? I'm really beginning to think I didn't get a proper debrief."

"It was an unexpected opening. We had to take it. Anyways you're good at improvising."

Hero dodged around a cocktail tray. "I appreciate your faith in me, but I'm better at improvising when I've had a week to carefully study my subject's personality and mannerisms. I mean what is my personality? Are they an affectionate couple?"

Silence and then finally, "You'll be fine."

"Are you kidding me? Other Hero! Other Hero?"

They'd dropped the line, hadn't they? Hero sighed, stuffing the earpiece into their pocket. Sure, they'd do better without distractions, but this was verging on insanity. Other Hero had better gather more info on their new identity before tomorrow.

They stopped in front of an intricately carved set of double doors at the tops of the stairs. The private quarters of the newest villainous boss their team had begun tracking. The assignment was a rush job so all they had was a blueprint layout and the supposition that tonight's gala was prepared as a cover for something big.

They rapped quietly on the wood before immediately easing the door open. Lovers would be comfortable enough to do that, right?

A tall figure turned as they entered. Long midnight hair fell over dark-clad shoulders. Dark, hard eyes stared out of an even harder face. And yes, there were extra legs, though not the kind Hero had been expecting: they were black, rigid, clawed things sticking out from their sides, almost like those of an insect. Meanwhile, a pair of pitch-colored moth wings folded on their back, the tails gliding on the floor like drapery.

"Took you long enough," the villain said. A black centipede crawled down their cheek and settled like a parrot on the villain's shoulder.

Hero froze on the threshold, desperately trying to connect their dropped jaw back to their brain so they could snap it shut.

It had been years since they'd seen this dark figure; their jaw seemed even sharper, their lankiness had turned to elegant slenderness, and the bug parts were new, but Hero recognized them immediately.

Villain.

Part Two

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn

[lovelaurs]

my own silly mystreet characters headcanon list!

aphmau:

has the worst "hear me out" takes you'll ever hear. like seriously. she can very much point to a yield sign and say "would" to everyone's dismay.

knows every line in moulin rouge as she is OBSESSED with the film. she and laurance preform the elephant medley as dramaticly as possible whenever they watch it for movie night.

obsessed with pre-endgame marvel movies.

ao3 writer! she writes fics for the nichest of fandoms, so she doesn't get that many reads.

one of the few reliable booktok users you can TRUST will give you a good recommendation to read!

garroth:

obsessed with the movie megamind. like seriously. will talk to you for hours on and WILL defend the "sequel movie" and show because, in fact, they are NOT that bad.

can infodump about a topic he's interested in for hours on end.

actually really smart and kind, but ever since he found out he made zane insecure he tries to tone it down. he used to show off a lot but wants to make sure his brother shines as well.

carries stress balls on him so he doesn't use his strength unnecessarily.

always organizes group movie nights with all his friends.

laurance:

loves to listen to and read AITA (am i the asshole?) reddit posts when bored.

an amazing listener, will listen to someone for hours on end and provide insight when needed (perfect for having a conversation with garroth).

loves gossiping. he has really good hearing so he tends to hear others share secrets nearby. he's like the wine aunt you just KNOW has the most interesting stories to tell.

likes to go on vacations a lot, explaining why he is absent sometimes during big group events.

he sometimes returns home to his family farm to take care of it when his parents are out of town.

he often voluntarily babysits caleb to impress aphmau and garroth with his caretaker skills (he's a showoff).

katelyn:

she loves the show big time rush and watches it in her freetime.

OBSESSED with musical theatre and visits broadway shows often. if the friends she brought along even DARE to suggest skipping the stagedoor? they receive a glare that could kill thousands.

adores singing and often sings in her room when the others aren't home.

continues to play volleyball with her friends after a long day of work (she's a freelance writer).

her music taste can range from alternative music like waterparks to kpop groups like red velvet!

KC:

an ao3 writer as well! she and Aphmau gift eachother fics from time to time! she mostly writes x reader fics for tumblr sexyman.

has taken a liking to cooking outside of baking! she especially likes to grill! she even wears an apron that says "kiss the cook" as well as a hat that says "fish fear me women love me".

watches any and all trending animated shows like tangled the series, adventure time, avatar, etc.

has her own tumblr blog where she writes reviews on shows and posts art! her page is quite popular.

dresses in mainly lolita fashion! she has a flare for the beauty of style and loves to recommend people styles and outfits whenever they go out shopping!

travis:

calls katelyn, zane, and dante hot nonchalantly

has attempted.

dante:

loves to bake and nana teaches him all kinds of recipes to make. he supplies the snacks at movie night.

takes taekwondo lessons. "can never be too careful" he says while living in a pretty standard upper middle class neighborhood. why is he like this.

works at a pet shelter and takes care of the dogs and cats left behind. he adopts any that have been there for years, thus making his house full of many different pets.

the designated driver for whenever they go out to clubs. he doesn't like to drink so he usually takes everyone home by the end of the night.

travis (the actual headcanons):

actually respects others and doesn't harass them like he did early on (that was a weird trope and i HATED it). he's just a flirt and if someone he flirts with flirts back he gets all flustered.

the group gamer. spends hours grinding on all sorts of games just to brag about it on his steam profile. specifically a fan of the spider-man games on playstation.

loves to cosplay! he, aphmau, and nana go to lots of conventions together in group cosplay. their last one was the powerpuff girls! they dragged garroth along and made him mojo jojo.

can recite everything and anything about the ninjago lore. this man is obsessed with any lego product or franchise and has many sets built in his room.

practices talking to himself in the mirror every morning to give him confidence. he has very low self esteem.

aaron:

dream stan.

probably friends with dream.

uhhhh idk probably streams the song "mask" by dream.

minecraft streamer.

dream.

those are all my headcanons! i hope you enjoyed! (slandering mystreet aaron is a passion of mine i'm sorry)

[saturdaysky]

First Lines

I was tagged by @mithrilwren to post the first lines of my last ten fics! What a fun trip down memory lane this was.

1) fray (Ludinus/Essek; feelbad manipulation + an intentional gap between wants and needs)

"Such a fanciful tradition," he chides, watching the light play on Thelyss' bright braids. The candlelight of his bedchambers paints them fetchingly gold. Thelyss sits with a prim tiredness on the bed, holding still while Ludinus slips the buttons of his high collar back into place. They have begun to take all of their meetings here, in recent months.

2) discretion, written with @mllekurtz (Caleb/Essek; power dynamics and clothing)

“You wore this to the court today.” The words do not feel quite real coming out of his mouth.

3) growing sunlight (Caleb/Essek; a post-canon homecoming)

Caleb shuts the door against the afternoon sun, sealing them into comfortable privacy. The curtains on his windows are likewise shut, but light seeps through them anyway, casting the room in a warm, muted glow. Dimmed daylight will gather here for hours; like a little bubble of sunset just for us, supplies his mind. He is too glad to resist whimsy. Essek's visits always make him so.

4) if only for a moment (Caleb/Essek; time travel, grief, love, a leave-taking)

It was supposed to be five minutes into the future, but Caleb is pretty sure he fucked that one up. The lurch in his stomach tells him so, as does the treacle-like quality of his perception, and the way the spell writhes in his mind.

5) the end; to hold the sun (Caleb/Essek; a Calamity AU set minutes before the city falls from the sky)

It is done. It is done.

6) brothers (Beau & Essek talk about their estranged brothers; canon-with-a-twist AU)

Essek's shoulders are tense in a way that's gonna ache later, his frame drawn tight against the endless blue sky above the bay. He leans on the salt-crusted railing and stares out at the armada gathered for the peace talks. "I am still a Thelyss," he whispers in Undercommon. "They cannot take that from us." To Beau's ears, it sounds like a prayer.

7) sanctuary, a claiming (Caleb/Essek; werewolf/witch dark fairytale AU)

The night is red. Above the Wildwood, Catha’s gentle silver eye has waned into sleep at the end of its long cycle, leaving only the ruddy gaze of its sister to light the forest. Tomorrow, Catha will wax anew into wakefulness, but tonight, when magic is strong and bloody in the air, Ruidus’ dark creatures come out to play.

8) a shape made by our hands (Caleb/Essek; in a decaying timeline, Caleb meets Essek as a child.)

The spell is almost up. He’s gotten what he came to this timeline for, and when he returns to his own, this reality will decay into nothingness like an echo. The clock ticks unrelentingly in Caleb’s head; he estimates he has at least an hour. Maybe two, maybe less; time magic is an inexact science, as it turns out.

9) fulcrum (Caleb & Trent review proper torture techniques)

He is deep in the bowels of the sanatorium and has been for three days. Caleb is doing his best not to let that fact peel him out of his head.

10) poisoning the well (Caleb character study, ft. Trent's incessant, inescapable praises)

There is the splish-splash-splash as the Nein travel through the drenched Aeorian tunnel, and then Ikithon’s voice slithers into his head, parting the layers of Caleb's privacy with ease and blotting out all other sound.

I tag @mllekurtz @ariadne-mouse @chronurgy @burningdarkfire @annundriel and anyone else who wants to do it! Tag me in, I'd love to see your first lines.