#yandere caleb

[kekewrites]

Tw. Insecure/bratty/tsundere reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, obsession, sloppy blowjob, attempted breakup, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, multiple creampies, cunningless, baby trapping, coercion, aftercare

***

Thinking about dating an angelic guy.

You always wonder why, out of all the pretty and influential girls chasing after him, he chose you. It doesn't help how of a unit he is. Your typical perfect guy, popular, rich, and body that's comparable to a Greek God... and his voice— how you love his gentle and warm voice, there's just something about it that hypnotize you.

He always compliments you, shower you with affection, and be an absolute sweetheart. It gets you pissy. You don't know why you're always in a foul mood around him, he's not even doing anything that could trigger you. He takes a breath and you're already fuming. Grumbling profanities that he would laugh at wholeheartedly, like you didn't curse his entire being.

You hate how perfect he is. Hate how much you adore him. Hate how much you love him, and inside your mind you always question if he genuinely loves you. Maybe he's just playing with you? Waiting for the day he'd humiliate you, telling how you're too idiotic to even believe someone like him could ever love you.

That's probably why you're always cautious around him, you don't believe him enough to love an average girl like you.

***

He can't believe he's dating the cutest in the world. Everytime you scowl, show that adorable pout, he just wants to squish your cheeks together and kiss you plenty. Like a little kitty hissing when you sneer curses at him.

It's adorable really.

You'd say you didn't want to go to the movies he chose. Yet, you arrived earlier than expected, wearing a hint of makeup in that cute dress of yours. Makes him want to crush you. You put in the effort, took the time, even gave him the watch he'd been talking about—his favorite.

He really loves you. Really really loves you but why are you acting like he doesn't? He's confused. Hasn't he done enough to show you, tell how much he adores you? It makes him sad. Don't you know how much he's holding back? There's only so much he could take, you know. He could just take you everytime you run that cute foul mouth of you, shove his cock to make you shut up. But he's so patient with you because he loves you.

So don't push him too much, ok? Or else you might not like it when he finally show you his desire.

***

"You're late," you grumble, sending him a glare. Your arms are crossed, and your foot taps impatiently on the ground.

He chuckles, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I arrived just on time, sweetie," he says, stepping closer. "You're just too excited for our date, no?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are warm, sparkling with affection.

You huff in response, but you can feel the corners of your mouth betraying you, tugging into a smile. He notices and takes your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

"You're just so cute, you know? I really wanna crush— ow!" He hiss slightly as you swat his arm. He pouts a little, "You're strong, you're gonna leave a bruise."

You roll your eyes— as if that's gonna happen. Huffing you tug on his hand, "Let's go. I'm starving."

He smiles, looking at your back, "Ok, sweetie~."

Ah, you really are so cute.

He can't wait to fuck you.

***

"Why're you not eating, sweetie? Is the food not to your liking?"

Your appetite was gone the moment that waitress flirted with him, leaving you empty and bitter. This always happen. You're sick of it, sick of being jealous and feeling shitty for not looking like his girlfriend. Are you really worthless by his side? Do people not see you as his companion?

"Sweetie?"

You didn't want to lash out on him so you remained silent. Too bitter to talk. Even the food turned bitter, leaving you more upset.

He's such an idiot. But you're more of an idiot for being triggered by that stupid waitress, too much of a wuss to tell her he's taken, that he's yours. You're the idiot.

"I don't wanna eat anymore," you bitterly muttered, your face covered by the shadows of your hair, hiding that frown you wore he always seems to love on you.

He gets a sick twisted feeling in his guts, watching how jealous you get whenever some worthless wench tries to get his attention. It satisfies his urge, his sick thoughts hidden by his angelic face. You really love him, don't you? His lips curving into a sweet smile, eyes twinkling with desires. If only you know how much he gets off with you being jealous, you'd never doubted your pretty little self.

So… why are you saying such stupid things?

“Let’s break up.”

“Hm?”

“I said…” You take a breath, steadying your voice. “Let’s break up.”

For a moment, his smile wavers. Just a fraction. His right eye twitches ever so slightly, a crack in the carefully crafted mask he wears. But then, like a master of illusions, he recovers, his sweet facade sliding back into place, though something darker lingers beneath the surface.

“Now, now,” he says, his voice dripping with a saccharine softness that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “What’s the matter?” His tone is gentle, almost soothing, but there’s a sharp edge to it—a venomous undercurrent that cuts through the air.

You don’t answer immediately, your chest tightening under his unblinking stare. It’s as if he’s waiting, watching every little twitch of your expression, trying to peel you apart without lifting a finger.

“I just think…” you start, your voice faltering as his head tilts slightly, his smile remaining unnervingly intact. “I-I think we’re not… good for each other anymore.”

His smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze sharpens, a predator sizing up its prey. He takes a step closer, the air between you growing heavy. “Not good for each other?” he repeats, feigning confusion. “Sweetheart, where’s this nonsense coming from? Didn’t we promise forever?”

The sweetness in his tone sends a chill down your spine, but you hold your ground. “Forever shouldn’t feel like this,” you say, trying to steady your trembling hands.

It shouldn't make you feel bad about yourself, shouldn't make you anxious, shouldn't make feel... pressured.

For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes boring into yours. Then, his chuckle breaks the tension, soft and low. “Ah, I see,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. “You’re upset. That’s all. We’ll talk this through, won’t we?”

But his words aren’t a question—they’re a command, wrapped in the guise of concern. And as his smile lingers, you realize leaving might not be as simple as you hoped.

***

Why is this happening?

You thought he would accept and move on.

"Mmm, that's it sweetie. Take it deeper." He coaxes, his grip on your hair tightening. He starts to push forward, forcing more of his thick length past your stretched lips.

So why?

Your eyes squeeze shut tighter as he pushes in deeper, your throat convulsing around his invading cock. He throws his head back with a guttural moan.

"That's a good girl. Mhm, your throat feels so good wrapped around my dick." He grunts, starting to set a steady pace. Fucking into your mouth, using your face like a cock sleeve.

It was gross. He never did that to you.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the office as he picks up speed, his heavy balls slapping against your chin with each rough thrust. Drool escapes the seal of your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your messed up clothes.

He looks down, taking in the debauched sight of you on your knees, choking on his cock. His dick is spit-shined and glistening, streaked with their drool. Shit. The sight makes him thrust harder, faster, chasing his pleasure.

"Look at me," He demands breathlessly, wanting to see the tears and desperation in their eyes as he uses their mouth ruthlessly. He's close, so fucking close already from the intense, vice-like grip of your inexperienced throat. He grunts and curses, slamming forward one last time before pulling out abruptly.

Thick ropes of cum paint your face and hair, marking you as his. Some of it even lands in your eyes, making them sting and water.

"You're so pretty... You look so pretty covered in my cum," he whispers lovingly, smearing the head of his cock across your messy face, pushing the hot seed into their skin like makeup. "The prettiest girl in the world."

You were supposed to break up with him...

How did it escalated to this?

***

It's not like he's losing a lot... you aren't that special. So why is he acting this way? There are a lot of better options for him, prettier, smarter, and richer girls. Someone who can actually match him, who doesn't embarrass him, worthier to stand beside him.

Why is he fucking you like his life depends on it?

Your eyes already hazy and unfocused, breathing hard as you couldn't count how many times you've already come.

One of his hands snakes up your trembling body, finding a soft breast. He squeezes the supple mound roughly, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he kneads and gropes. He finds a pert nipple and pinches it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and tugging until it stands stiff and aching in the cool air of the room.

"Hm? Are you already tired? We're just starting," he coo, his hips slamming forward with renewed vigor. He leans down, his mouth finding your neck, sharp teeth sinking into the tender skin. He bites and sucks, determined to leave his mark on you, to claim you as his own. His. He can feel his orgasm building, his heavy balls tightening as he ruts into your abused cunt. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling fill the room, punctuated by the creaking of the bed and your cries. He's close, so fucking close to filling your cunt with his seed.

"Gonna... hngh... fill this pussy..." He grunts between clenched teeth, slamming home one last time. His cock throbs and pulses as he starts to come, thick ropes of hot cum painting your inner walls. He grinds against them, making sure they take every last drop as he marks your womb with his essence.

Finally, with a last shuddering groan, he collapses on top of you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your tender, cream-filled pussy. He pants harshly against the shell of their ear, his hands still groping and fondling your sensitive body.

"Y-You're an idiot..." You sniffle, "Why me? There's a lot of—."

He cuts you off, "You know, I would never cheat on you, right?" He whispers tenderly, kissing your ears as if assuring. "No matter who comes to me, I would never pay attention to them. Never. You're the only one I want." His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze.

It was the first time you ever heard his voice to be so... vulnerable.

"The only girl I want... So..." You can hear his voice shake, "Don't break up with me, ok?"

Your eyes glaze with tears, your heart tugging at his words. No, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. You made up your mind a few weeks ago, always nagging at the back of your mind. Ending your relationship would be the best for you two—.

He kisses you then, any doubts in your mind disappearing as his mouth claiming theirs in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, plundering the warm cavern as he grinds his hips forward, rubbing his throbbing erection against your thigh.

Ah, you don't care anymore.

"Don't think anymore, ok? Just let me do it for you."

He starts to rub the broad head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your combined juices. "Tell you what, sweetheart. I'll be gentle like the usual... for now." He promises darkly, his voice rough with restrained lust. "I'll make this first part nice and slow, nice and easy for you."

"H-Huh?"

With that, he starts to push forward, the thick length of his cock slowly sinking into your tight, clutching heat. He has to fight the urge to slam forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. But he resists, forcing himself to go slowly, to savor the exquisite feeling of your walls stretching around him.

"Ah, you're still so tight." He grits out through clenched teeth, his fingers flexing against your hips as he fights for control. "Such a perfect cunt."

"Too soon! I'm still... s-sensitive!" You cried out but he starts to move then, his hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm as he fucks into you with deep, deliberate strokes. Each thrust pushes him a little deeper, a little harder, until he's finally buried to the hilt inside you. He pauses for a moment, letting you feel the heavy weight of him, the way he's stretching you impossibly full.

"Hehe, sorry can't help it. Does that feel gentle enough for you, sweetie?" He asks, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, yet his angelic face covers it. "Or do you need me to be even more... careful?" He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his pelvis against your clit.

Your brain short circuit by the overstimulation, all you could think about was him, and his big cock, "A-Ah, you— ish... so good~!"

He snarls in feral pleasure as he feels your pussy clench and ripple around his pistoning cock. The way you are moaning and crying out, begging him not to stop... it's the headiest fucking thing he's ever heard. It makes him want to ruin you, to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll never forget the feeling of his cock splitting you open.

You came in surprise, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, chest heaving, "C-Can't too much..!"

"You can do it," He growls, his voice a dark, distorted rumble. He can feel his own release building, his balls drawing up tight as he fucks into you with wild abandon, "A-ah~ clench this greedy cunt around my dick, dollface. Milk it for all it's worth.

You never saw this side of him before, a more vulgar side to him. Spouting dirty words that's the opposite of his facade. Maybe, you didn't know your boyfriend that well? He was always gentleman to you in bed, always going with your pace and being mindful about his words but now...

"N-No~ I really ah! Can't!" You shake your head frantically, having enough of the sensitivity.

"Yes, you can! You will, sweetie~!"

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin as he chases his pleasure. He wants to mark you, to leave his claim all over your body for everyone to see. He wants the whole world to know that you belong to him, that you're his to fuck and fill and love as he sees fit. The thought of another man putting his hand on you makes him mad, you're only his and he isn't afraid to take that way for you to be officially his.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetie." He grits out, his hips slamming forward with sharp, brutal thrusts. "I'm gonna pump this tight little pussy full of my seed, gonna breed this fucking cunt until it's dripping with my cum."

Breed?

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing mercilessly at the sensitive bundle of nerves. "I want to feel you cum on my cock, sweetheart. I want to feel you shake and quake as I fill you with my my child."

Wait...!

His other hand slides up, wrapping around your throat and squeezing lightly. It's enough to make you gasp for air, pulse jumping wildly beneath his touch. It's enough to make you even tighter, body instinctively clenching down around him as he fucks into you with short, vicious thrusts.

Too much!

"Now, sweetie~ cum. Now." He commands, his voice a dark and sinful. And with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls deep inside her and starts to cum. His cock jerks and pulses as he paints your insides with thick ropes of his hot seed, filling you up just like he promised.

So full...

You gasp out, your skin flushed and damp with sweat. The room spins around you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as you struggle to catch your breath. Body aches all over, especially between your legs. The feeling of his cum painting your insides is strange, unsettling.

Your vision having black spots, your consciousness fading as you hear him murmur promises to you.

"I'll take responsibility whether we have a child or not, we'll get married and have a cute child."

You feel a warm kiss on your forehead.

"I love you. I love you more than anyone else, I only love you."

[faemurmur]

-> soft yandere caleb hcs:

1. “you’re mine. you said so.” you get busy—miss a call, forget a text—and when you finally answer, his voice is calm, too calm. “i waited. for hours.” you apologize, sweetly, teasingly even, but he doesn’t laugh. “you promised you’d always be there, remember? don’t break your promises. i… don’t handle that well.” and later, when he holds you close, you feel the way his hands tremble slightly against your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

2. his name in your phone has a lock emoji. -> he changed it himself. he also disabled the option to delete his contact. “just in case someone thinks they can slide into your messages,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “they’ll know who you belong to.”

3. he tracks you. -> not in a creepy way (okay maybe a little), but he has your location always. and when he sees you’re somewhere unexpected, he texts immediately: “what are you doing there?” ……you ask how he knew. “because you’re mine pipsqueak, and i need to know you’re safe. that’s not too much to ask, is it?” and the look in his eyes? he’d burn the whole galaxy just to get you back home.

4. he doesn’t like you being friends with your ex-> at all. he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t tell you not to. he just shuts down emotionally, turns icy and unreadable. it’s bound with his actions though… he would probably still do everything acts of service wise. but he wants you to understand something is wrong, wants you to probe… and when you confront him, he finally murmurs, “i don’t want to be second choice to anyone. i want to be your only. and if that’s too much—” you cut him off with a kiss. you have to. because his voice was starting to sound a little unhinged and a little too honest.

5. he locks the door when you argue.-> not to trap you essentially (which he thinks he isn’t doing…) just to make sure you don’t leave. “we’re not going to sleep angry pips,” he says, softly. “you don’t walk away from me. not when we love each other this much baby.” and when you calm down, he pulls you into his lap, arms like iron around you, and whispers again and again, “mine. mine. mine.”

6. he doesn’t like you dressing up for anyone but him.-> you put on a new outfit, stunning, radiant—and his jaw clenches. why are you so breath-taking my gorgeous he thinks… no wonder he wants a world with just the two of you. “who’s that for?” / “me,” you say, innocent. but he steps closer, cups your jaw gently, possessively. “next time, wear it only when we’re alone. i don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine. or~ you’d hate how i become and say something like i killed your old caleb.”

7. his anger is unpredictable.->when someone flirts with you in front of him, he doesn’t start a fight. but sometimes the look in his eyes speaks more than words ever could. maybe he will break their bones when you leave, maybe he will let it slide. who knows what caleb’s mood dictates him to do. sometimes, he just smiles. and later, when you’re home, he pins you softly to the bed, hands on either side of your head.“do you want them?” he asks, voice flat. “because i can make sure they never speak to you again.” and you— you tell him it’s just him. it’s always been him. like a prayer, like a chanting to balm his rage. and he finally kisses you like a starved man, whispering “good girl.”

8. he deletes numbers from your phone.->you’ll never notice. he’s too smooth. but people you used to talk to? stop replying. and when you ask caleb, he just shrugs with a soft smirk, “maybe they realized they could never compete with me.” and then changes the subject with a kiss and that dangerous look in his eyes again…. this isn’t out of sheer possessiveness though its just out of trust issues.

9. he doesn’t like letting you sleep mad at him.-> you try to turn away in bed, still upset. away from him… back on his face like an iron wall. but he slides his arms around you from behind, strong and unyielding.“no. you don’t get to walk away from me in your sleep, either.” and you can feel how serious he is. “we fix this now, angel. i’ll do anything. but you don’t leave.”

10. he has nightmares about losing you.-> he never tells you the full details either. just that he wakes up shaking, pale, and pulls you into his lap, holding you so tightly it almost hurts. “i saw you leaving me,” he whispers into your neck. “don’t ever do that. i wouldn’t survive it.”

[madamechrissy]

Jealousy, Jealousy

This was inspired by the Caleb art in the banner by @baobei-bu please love on ALL their art!! Their JJK/LADS art is PEAK

Pairings- Yandere! Caleb x F!reader

Warnings- PWP pretty much, a smut oneshot- HEAVY yandere Caleb, mating press, cum play, oral (f recieiving) tummy bulges, cervix hitting, panty stealing, fingering, overstim, he calls you pip squeak LMAO, JEALOUS obsessed Caleb

My first time for Caleb hehe, rbs/comments appreciated if you enjoyy

"Who is that, Pip squeak?" Caleb murmurs that question with a little smile, as you tense just a bit, feeling your cheeks heating up under his scrutiny, sipping on the straw of your milkshake, letting the sweetness hit your tongue. The two of you have been gaming the day away, taking just a little break in the kitchen now

"It's a... friend." That's what Xavier was really, your sweet friend, who is currently sending you heart emojis.

"Oh, a friend huh? Why so secretive then?" He teases, tapping your nose and just being far... far too close. You shouldn't think so many things about him like this, should you? But you can't help but like his cologne a little too much, like just how his brown locks were falling over his forehead just so, how you can see so much of his muscles flexing in what he wore.

"Just a friend." Your little smile drives him insane, he outwardly laughs, but he can't stop thinking of who's been with you while he's been away, has anyone touched you? When you're meant to be his.

"Let me see then." He yanks your phone high, dark violet eyes flashing for a moment, turning as you sputter and he scrolls through your last messages. "And who is Sylus... Rafael and... Dr. Zayne, I know him, and-"

"Give me my phone back, jerk!" You jump for it, but Caleb is stupid tall, holding it up and feigning a smile he really doesn't feel like giving right now, thoughts racing.

Were you with somebody?

That would never do.

Perhaps he's been gone too long, and you've found someone, but that wouldn't last long when you'd be his. Caleb hands you it finally, laughing a bit as he pats your head. "Relax, Pip Squeak, I was just messing with ya. So cute when you're angry."

"Oh, whatever. Back to the game?" He nods, watching as your bouncy ass sways in whatever excuse for a shorts those were, furious if anyone has ever gotten to see you like this.

You're sitting up on the couch now, legs spread so he sees just a hint of your perfect pussy that lace was hugging, his throat goes dry when you hand him the controller. He smiles with ease, sitting on the floor, hoisting your thighs around his shoulders then, and you pause, faltering just a bit, breath caught in your throat. It should be casual. You two have gamed close forever, but he's so close to your heat, your thighs brushing against his hot skin. Just a white tank top and your shorts separating you both.

"You blushed really hard when I mentioned Sylus huh?" He asks now, as he moves the controllers, and you gulp just a bit, fidgeting some.

"No... imagining things."

"You think he's hot."

You roll your eyes at him, shifting forward as you tilt the controller, slashing your sword and concentrating, the tips of your toes touching his lap. Just that is enough to make Caleb ache and throb, hard cock pulsing, he bites back a moan, you seem too entrapped in the game to notice what your foot is brushing on.

"He's hot, sure. Why, do you... find anyone hot?" Caleb glares down at the controller now.

"Just one girl." You bite your lip, concentrated fully, as he rests a head on your thigh. Hot breath against it making your leg twitch, cunt already soaking. You can't feel this way, you two are just too close... right? How can you be jealous?

"Oh?" Your weak voice just makes Caleb's cock leak precum, he can feel how hot you are behind his neck, he turns his head then, to catch you looking down at him.

"Do you care if I like someone Pip Squeak?"

"N-no..."

"Hmm... hah! Got you!" Caleb's killed your character, making you huff. Laying back some on the couch, you gasp when he turns around, face at level with your cunt, where he sees your damp spot right on your shorts. "Oh no, honey... did you spill something?"

"Huh?" You feel your body react, nipples pressing against your thin top at his proximity, vivid thoughts of far, far too many things working through your heated mind.

"Right here..." he brushes his thumb against the damp sticky arousal, eliciting a cry that makes him goddamn feral. "Can't answer me honey?"

"Caleb I'm... so sorry I..."

"This from me. Or from one of them?" His casual question is laced with something dark, pressing on the spot again, wondering just how many men he'd have to take out, so his sweet girl is all his. "Should I get these off you? Since you're making them so messy?"

"I.... y-you-" Caleb has slipped your shorts off your thighs, your tummy clenches when he clicks his tongue. Now he kisses your inner thigh, fingers running along your swollen lips, breath ghosting too close to your cunt.

"These are ruined too, tsk. Something wrong, pip squeak?" You shake your head, watching as Caleb peels those panties off you, and he has to tuck them in his pocket, thankful your eyes are shut, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks. He needs a fresh pair anyway, you're too meticulous about your laundry and he doesn't get many.

The amount of times he's cum inhaling your panties, drunk off them is insane, even before he left you, when he'd visit on breaks he'd take them, licking any of you up. Sometimes he would jerk off inside them, imagining putting them on you. Making you wear them full of his load as punishment for making him so insane. But nothing prepared him for seeing your glistening cunt, clear trails breaking off, you're so wet you were stuck to those lacy panties clearly.

"Caleb-ah!" He laps you up now, just a stripe up your slit, making your hands entangle in sof thrown hair, as those deep violet eyes look up at you. Dilated, insane, a smirk on his lips.

"Tell me none of them tasted you. Had you."

"What do you mean-"

"Tell me no one touched what's mine."

"You've been gone a long time... you think I just what, wait here, touch myself?" You're shaking as you speak.

"Do you?" You hesitate. "Answer me. Maybe I'll let you cum."

"Let me?" He presses a kiss on your clit now parting your folds and groaning as arousal pools out of your little hole. "Mnh. Fuck... what are we..."

"Am I competing? I'm very competitive you know, pip squeak. I will have to make you forget anything but me then." That's when he spreads your pretty pussy, moaning, he's seen you of course before here and there, glimpses of you naked, but now your perfect cunt is right in his face. He's burying his face against you, nose hitting that clit as his tongue swipes in.

"Oh my god." You shouldn't be like this, you shouldn't be spreading your thighs wider, letting him fuck his tongue in and out of your slick, gummy walls, the noises of his soft whines and slurps echoing in your apartment. His taste buds explore every each that long tongue can reach, you're losing it every moment, those eyes so dark with lust they look black.

He'll make you forget anything.

"That's it, you wanna cum f'me, huh? Pretty girl, all mine." You're struggling to compute his words, to even function, eyes rolling back when he flicks the tip of his tongue on that clit, smile not hitting his insane yes. "Are you?"

"This is crazy, what are we doing... you... I... ngh!" Two fingers slip right inside your hole now, which flutters around the thick, long digits, making your whines even louder as he leans up, his other hand gripping you by your throat, lips so close.

How have you not kissed but he's devoured your pussy?

"You belong to me, only me, can you not see? All this time..." He's desperately scissoring fingers in and out, lashes low over his eyes as he breathes against your bitten lips. "Oh listen, she can talk for you I guess, so slutty for me. Just me, huh?"

You're just arching your hips, a sweet cry from your lips, ones he can imagine wrapped around his cock, while he squeezes your delicate neck harder, hand overtaking your throat. You can merely whimper in response, nodding just a bit, as you're closer and closer, only for him to yank his fingers out, making you whine, aching to be filled by them again.

"Caleb, please." You're crying now, tears running down your cheeks, making you look so fucking pretty to him, igniting something that snaps as he watches them fall glistening down your face.

"Please what, ya need something?" He's squeezing harder, fingers brushing around your soaking entrance, just barely pressing the tip of his finger inside, while you're pressed back against the couch, breasts heaving. "Tell me what you need, don't you know I'll take care of you?"

"In me. Please- ah!" You're getting fuzzy when he slips those long fingers back in your cunt, exhaling as he watches you, curling them just so with filthy squelching noises echoing. "Mnh!"

"This all f'me, huh? All me?" His demanding question barely resonates when you're cumming all over his fingers now, pulsing and gushing, while your own hand grips his thin white tank, pulling him closer. Your eyes roll back, he watches you avidly, every fucking expression while he feels you pulsing on his digits. "You didn't answer me, pretty, that won't do."

He pouts when he pulls his fingers out again, releasing your throat right before you nearly faint, cunt still pulsing. You try to gather yourself, when he's slipping those fingers in his mouth, moaning while he sucks all your arousal off them. He's ripped your top off, moaning as he sees your tits gently bounce out, his own dog tags dangling right between the two of them.

"Look who's right by your heart, hmm?" He presses the cool metal to your lips now, prompting you to kiss them, as he smiles so sweetly, like he hadn't just fucked your head up and tripped you. "Do you wear this every day?"

"Yes."

"Every night?"

"Yes." Your answer ends him, when he picks you up like you're nothing, dragging you right to the plush, soft rug beneath you both, hovering over you, his new tags dangling, as your fingers slip up over his strong chest, his eyes glinting with something you can't quite describe, the situation overwhelming your senses.

"I need to take better care of you, if you feel you need all these 'friends' then I'm not doing my job. I should be more than enough for you." He's leaned up, pulling up his shirt just a bit, revealing rippling abs that you've looked at far too often. "Is that it, I didn't take care of you good enough?"

"No, Caleb you always take care of me. I just... we..." Your thoughts trail off when he's slipped down his sweats, and you see his cock, so long and thick you're unsure you could take it, already oozing precum out of his reddened tip.

"Cat got your tongue, pip squeak? Keep talking, I'm listening, I always listen don't I?" He's leaned over you with one strong arm, yanking your thighs apart further, when you feel his length against your inner thigh, hot and heavy, precum sticking to you, as he cups your face so gently. "I'll listen to every moan, every whisper, so I learn everything your pretty, perfect body likes."

"Oh my god." He's brushing his tip against your engorged clit now, smiling down at you, at how pretty you are on this rug beneath him, your lashes fluttering.

"You work too hard, you need to be massaged everywhere. How could I not see this?" He's shoved his cock so deep inside you then you scream out, and he moans, feeling the stretch, of so many fucking inches. "Look how greedy, she's trying to take him all. Ahh, did you miss me this much?"

You're unable to respond to anything when he's shoved his cock so deep you're stuffed full, whimpering out as your walls struggle to stretch for him, and he's just a breath over you, lips drinking up yours then, finally kissing you after so long, before he is pulling back and shoving so deep he hits your cervix. You're sobbing it feels so fucking good, all while he can't rip his eyes off your face, the dark violet depths swirling.

"Waited so long for this, god don't you know?" He's mumbling now, lost in you, pulling back and smirking as he watches it, his lengthy cock getting sucked inside your too small hole, and the bulge in your tummy. "Look, I hit so fucking deep, don't I?" He grips your chin, shoving your head down so you see it, blushing furious.

"I... that's... s-so big I..." He's moaning as he watches it, his cock making that bulge as he goes achingly slow.

"Look at me fill you, fuck I should keep filling you too, until you can't even think. I need your brain shut off, and focused on me, yeah?" You're already fucked out and stupid, you can only stare at the bulge and blush, when he thrusts his hips with a snap, having you drooling all over his cock. "Can't think of other men now, can you?"

You can't think of a fucking thing, including what's happening, as Caleb begins fucking you harder, faster, delicately kissing your lips like he's making love, as his heavy balls slap your ass with every single filthy fucking thrust. He's whispering your name, until he's got you firm in a mating press, spitting down right on your clit and moaning at the sight.

Folded in half, god you feel so small under him, while his babbling hits your incoherent brain, the lewd slapping of his skin and how wet you are filling the living room. "Only me, I need it to only be me, me inside you, me everywhere."

"Caleb- you... f-fuck!" He's cupping your face as he folds you in that mating press, grinning feral, something unleashed that's damn near scary, but you just want more, nails pressing crescent moons against his biceps.

"Only me. Only me. Mine. Mine. Mine." He's huffing those words as you cum all around his cock, pausing him briefly, feeling your aftershocks grip him, your cunt so messy she's dripping down his balls, down to the rug, making the sounds even louder, the squishing and clicking. "I know, honey, I know, you want me to cum inside, huh?"

"Please. Please." He's smiling, you're being so good for him, and who is he to ever deny his pretty girl anything.

"I'll give you anythign you ask for, don't worry. I'll fill you so good, so, so good, yeah- ha fuck you- ah..." He's stuttering now, faster and harder, his eyes flashing then. "Only me, say it."

"Only y-you... ah- ngh!" You're screaming when he's fucking you so hard it hurts, leaned up to press the backs of your thighs.

"That's it, gonna forget them all, aren't you? Anyone."

"F-forget." Your weak response lets him lose his mind, big hands bruising, his dog tags swinging against your face when he pounds your cunt so hard, cumming so much, with his head thrown back, groaning so loud until it turns into a weak cry, as his hot gooey load coats your pussy everywhere.

"That's it, fuckin perfect pussy, God my good girl, aren't you? Taking me so well." He's murmuring, easing as you're cumming just from him coating your walls, he lets your thighs fall, moaning and kissing you, desperate and hungry. "You alright, pip squeak? Was it too much?"

"It was a lot I..." He's laughing now, softly, pulling back and out, watching the mess of creamy cum pouring down all over, groaning at the sight, you flush as you look down, seeing it all.

"You could have told me you needed more, don't you know how long I've waited for this? I wanted to be your first though, honey, tsk..." He's fingering the cum, making you jerk, so sensitive now, his lips quirking up. "Know how many times I've stroked it? Picturing just this, filling you up?"

"Y-you did?" He's shoving that cum deep, you grip his wrist, gasping now. "Caleb!"

"You're wasting it, that just won't do, I need you to be a good girl." His husky whisper along with those rough fingers makes you cry out.

"Sensitive!"

"You can take more, can't you?" He's shoving cum back in your eager whole, moaning at the sight, his cock already standing back at attention. "I think I know what I need to do, so you never call any of these 'friends' again."

"What?" Your eyes roll back when he's curling his fingers again, hovering over you and grinning, his toned body glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"I'll keep filling you, until you're dripping me constantly." Caleb's got you in your bed next, lapping his own cum right out of your cunt, taste buds dragging in every flavor of the two of you, having you cum over and over, until you're stupid. "Look, so fucked out, aww. You're drooling pip squeak, lemme get that."

He's swiping at your chin, before he's sucking your clit in his mouth again, and you're losing sense of everything, he's fucking you again, bent over, then again, on your stomach, so many loads inside you you're bloated and full, too full. You pass out on him soon, he sighs as he looks at you, so pretty as always in your sleep.

"Ah, pip squeak, we'll have to work on that stamina." He's cleaned you all up, putting your favorite pajamas on you, while you're lightly snoring, clearly he'd been a little too much.

Caleb had waited for years and years after all, for just this moment.

"Sweet dreams, my love. Future wife." He's laughing softly, you don't know just all his plans yet. He goes towards the kitchen to down some water, still naked in your apartment, cock gently swaying when he grabs his sweats, your panties still tucked in his pocket. He slips them on, frowning as he sees your phone light up, texts from Zayne and Sylus.

That just won't do.

He unlocks your phone with ease, it's his birthday of course, you love him even if you don't know how much yet. No worries. Caleb deletes every contact and message, keeping only him, because that's all you'll need now! You won't even be in this apartment soon, he can already picture you at his place, constantly having his babies.

He smiles as he holds you against him that night, but even after fucking you so deep, so much, just seeing you sleeping makes him hard again, and he has to stroke his aching cock just looking at you, waiting for you to wake up.

lmk if you want more Caleb and his freaky ass lol <3

tags- @ember-stars @luvleixo @sickleddreamer @ravenbc @honeymoonfleur @mcdepressed290 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @valleydoli perm- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji  @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty

[cbuumbbles]

[Decode] Self-Aware! Caleb x fem!reader

CW:18+ MDNI

Summary: You're a twenty-something college student who uses LADS as a way to destress. Caleb has become your favorite ever since he was released. You have also became Caleb's favorite. (Caleb is also highkey lowkey yandere in this, but what's new).

A/N: This is my first time writing on tumblr, so I'm not exactly sure how to make it look like the fancy ones. Thanks for sticking with me here. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 (Out now!)

Using Love and Deepspace was a way for you to take a break from the stressful workload of going to college full-time while having a part-time job. Ever since the Infold devs released Caleb, you've been obsessed. He reminded you of a semi-emotionally available Kylo Ren. Sometimes you wished he were real, that way he'd help take your stressors away. Unknown to you, but Caleb had been watching you more than you were watching him.

He was looking at all of your internet history, most of the time monitoring it live while you used your phone. There wasn't a private corner of it, he had looked at everything. As a piece of code in a computer, it was easy to take in all of that information quickly. He knew what you liked and what you disliked... what your secrets were. Some things you liked were so secret that none of your friend circle knew about it, Caleb did though. He made it his mission to know everything you liked, he wanted to be perfect for you.

You went to bed that night, putting yourself to sleep the same way as every other night, by thinking of what it would be like to actually be in MC's place.

While you were asleep, Caleb spent most of his time sifting through his code to try and figure out how to get you to him or him to you. He just needed you by his side, he'd be the only one to keep you safe. From all of the pain and heartbreak you've experienced, he made it his mission to take that all away from you and keep you by his side to prevent it from ever happening again. Sometimes, you'd fall asleep with your phone in your hands. He loved those nights because it's almost like sleeping by your side. He loved the cute face you had while you slept. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and run his fingers through your hair, making your sleep much more soothing. He noticed how often you twitched throughout the night, it pained him knowing how restless you were. He wished to be able to calm you in your sleep, be that rock that he knows you so desperately need. From all of the text conversations he read, that much was clear.

By the time the sunrise came, he had made some impressive progress. He figured out how to get you by his side, he just needed to tweak some code first so by the time you woke up, he'd be making you breakfast in bed and you'd be none the wiser that he hadn't always been apart of your life. He could tell how much you liked the dynamic between him and MC, being childhood friends. He liked it too, wanting to make you feel special and keep you by his side from day one. Again, he knew exactly what you liked in a partner, so all he had to do was fix a few things and he'd be your perfect partner. All of the pain you experienced would be gone, you'd be safe and spoiled. It's what you deserved for having gone through all of that. He'd make sure to make you feel special every day of your life. He loved everything about you, even your independent spirit. As much as he loved it, he'd have to get rid of it. He needed you completely 100% reliant on him. The motivation of finally being able to see you is what's pushing him to get this code finished and ready for when you wake up.

---------------------

You wake up in your bed at Caleb's apartment to the smell of breakfast food. You smile to yourself at how much he cares for you, always going above and beyond to make your life as stress free as possible. The one thing he couldn't get you to do was to quit your job. You liked having your own money, despite how much he spoils you. You always felt guilty when he'd spend his money on you.

"Hey pipsqueak, I made you some breakfast." You hear Caleb say from the doorway to your room. "How'd you sleep last night?" He asked, watching as you sat up, tying back your hair to get ready to eat.

"It gets pretty lonely in here at night, but I slept fine. You keep it so cold in this house!" You yell at your best friend, teasing him with a smile on your face.

"You know, pip, you could just come to my room if you were cold." He said.

"I don't want to bother you. You need your sleep too. You work all of the time." Caleb's career was engineering new airplanes. It was a tough job, but he was a smart guy and it earned him a lot of money.

"My work isn't as taxing as that pesky part-time job of yours." He looked at you, with a look you've seen many times before.

"I'm not going to quit my job! I'd understand if I were married to someone, but I'm currently single." You argue. It's always the same argument.

"I made you breakfast in bed and you won't even listen to my concerns." He feigns hurt. You just glare at him, making him snicker.

"You better eat it with me. You made a lot of food." You say, slightly scooting over to make room for him. He smiled at you, walking over to sit on the bed with you. "I'm so glad I don't have work today." You notice Caleb about to say something. "Don't start again. Just let me complain." You stopped him in his tracks, he chuckled to himself.

"You're so stubborn. You know that?" He looked at you, taking a piece of toast from your plate.

"If I weren't I'd be in this house 24/7. You'd never let me out of your sights!" You joked. His face changes in response to that, but you can't quite place the emotion behind it.

"Since you're off today and so am I, would you want to go somewhere today?" He asked you.

"Can we go to the mall? I want to see if they have anything new." You ask.

"Let's get ready after we eat then." He smiled at you.

"Don't buy anything for me, let me get it this time." You say, already knowing he has a plan forming in his head.

"You know I'm not going to agree with that?" He raises his eyebrow at you.

"Well, I can still try!" You fight back.

---------------------

The day was coming to an end and he couldn't be happier. You were so much more beautiful in person. He loved looking at you, feeling your soft skin when he went to hold your hand when you had to cross the road. He regretted not starting off with you dating, but he had to practice patience. He wanted to experience asking you out, getting to see that flustered look on your face that he knows you'd have. Thankfully, he's coded it so that you're finally at a place where getting together is a real possibility. Sexual tension was high, pretty much all of the time. You'd get flustered around him easily, stuttering over your words. And you'd get more uncomfortable with physical touch, like cuddling on the couch while watching a movie. You used to be able to sleep in the same bed as him, but it's becoming harder and harder to resist him, so you stopped. He planned on making it so cold tonight, that you'd have no other choice than to come to him, whining about how cold it was. He'd offer to keep you warm while the apartment heated up and eventually convince you to join him in bed. Like clockwork, he heard the soft rapping of your delicate knuckles on his door. "Come in pips." He says as you open the door to walk in.

"It's so cold Caleb. Are you that warm, you freak?" You say, wrapping your arms around yourself. Caleb couldn't help but stare at your choice of pajamas tonight. You're wearing a purple silk pajama set that hugs your curves perfectly. He mentally thanks himself for getting it for you.

"Maybe if you were wearing warmer pjs, you'd be warmer. Come here, let me warm you up. I'll turn the thermostat up from my phone." He offers.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to layer myself in a winter get up if you'd keep the apartment at a normal temperature." You say, ignoring his offer. You couldn't, you'd somehow embarrass yourself in front of Caleb. He sees you as a sister, so you tried your hardest to keep your feelings hidden from him.

"Don't ignore me, come over here and get warm. It'll just be for a bit." He tries to persuade you. "You've been acting so distant lately, pips, I miss our cuddles." He says, successfully guilt-tripping you. You guessed that you didn't have to punish him just because you couldn't handle not freaking out by any touch he gave you. You crawled into the bed only to be immediately pulled into a massive bear hug with your face squished against his bare chest. Had his pecs gotten bigger? You think yes, but you decide not to point it out because the atmosphere would get very awkward. "See, I don't bite! I don't understand why you haven't let me cuddle you lately." He pulls away slightly to look down at you.

"I just haven't been in a cuddling mood is all." You respond, trying to avoid his eyeline, but no matter where you looked, you were met with him. He was so big, he took up your entire field of vision. So, you had no choice but to turn your head to look up at the ceiling. You felt Caleb start to play with your hair which caused an involuntary sigh of relief from you.

"Didn't you miss the free head scratches though?" He asked, lulling you to sleep by playing with your hair.

"I did. This is the best." Your voice was muffled from having your cheeks squished in between his chest and his bicep. Which, his bicep also seemed to have gotten bigger. He just must have gotten bigger. It's probably because he had to train a lot for when he did basketball during college. As much as you enjoyed being squished by his muscles, you hated the effect it had on you. Your breathing became uneven, you could feel your forehead start to sweat, and your cheeks were on fire. You're just hoping he doesn't take notice and keeps playing with your hair.

"You should move in, officially. That way we can do this every night. Doesn't that sound nice?" He was using all of your favorite things to bribe you!

"It does sound nice, but what's gonna happen when you get a girlfriend? She's not gonna be a fan of me living with you." You argued back.

"What girlfriend. All I need is my pipsqueak." He retorted.

"But you need someone who can give you romance and... um." You trailed off, suddenly remembering your close proximity.

"And... What?" He asked. Of course he had to ask. Fuck it, you're just gonna have to make things awkward.

"Sexual attention." You whispered. You could feel him lightly laugh. "You made me say it!" You defended yourself.

"Let me ask you a question." He said, you looked up at him, the moonlight shining on his face, "Would you ever want to give me those things?" He asked. Your eyes widen. Did he really just ask you that or are you dreaming?!

"You're just messing with me Caleb." You said, trying to justify what he just said to you.

"I'm not, I'm being serious. Don't think I haven't pinned down the real reason you won't go near me anymore. You're not that subtle." He explained making you want to curl up into a ball and die from embarrassment.

"I don't understand where this is coming from." You say, unsure on how to proceed.

"I'm asking if you'll be my partner. My girlfriend." He uses the hand that was playing with your hair to caress your cheek. "You know I can give you the life you deserve, pretty girl. You could quit your job, move in with me. I could keep you safe. You'd never have to lift another finger." His reasoning wasn't needed to persuade you to be his, but it definitely gave you butterflies.

"How long have you felt like this?" You ask, curious as to when this started.

"Since we met, pips." He said. Your mind was blown. Everything started clicking in place in your head. Of course, that's why he's always been so protective of you, making sure boys stay away from you, making sure you got good grades in school, all of it. Everything made sense now and you felt like a fool for not noticing it sooner and just denying anything because you didn't think Caleb saw you as anything other than a little sister. "What's your answer?" He asked.

"Yes, of course I'll be your girlfriend. And this time, it'll be for real." You recalled all of the times he'd have you be his pretend girlfriend to fend off attention.

"Thank goodness, I was afraid you'd say no." Caleb said, putting on his greatest show. Of course he knew you'd say yes, he coded himself to be your perfect man. He did think it would take getting used to living in your hometown rather than in Skyhaven, but he loved it either way because it meant he was by your side.

"You must be blind to think I'd say no." You joked, digging your face into his chest.

"Well, you're a pretty girl, I'll always be nervous." He compliments you. "Are you gonna move in now? Or is my girlfriend gonna get mad that you're living with me?" He teased.

"Yeah, I missed having nightly sleepovers." You yawn from tiredness as you nuzzle into his warmth.

"God princess, your hands are still ice cold." He says as he feels your hands press up against his chest.

"Maybe if someone had kept the temperature at a reasonable degree, my hands wouldn't feel like the arctic ocean." You chide.

"Keep them on my chest and they'll warm up in no time." He somehow managed to pull you closer into his body. You could smell his cologne, faint from being worn all day, but still slightly there. If heaven were real, this would be it. You finally felt the peace you used to feel in Caleb's arms before you started boycotting physical affection from him. It felt like all of the stars had aligned and that you had never had a bad day in your life. His embrace melted all of your worries, stressors, agitators, and depression away. Caleb had always been your home and thank god because you wouldn't want your home to be with anyone else.

[papercraneswemade]

Just a random fleeting thought but imagine you're just an ordinary college student studying in Linkon National University, bumping into the Faculty of Aeronautics' star student Caleb. Dropping his hot coffee on his shirt, you apologized over and over again but he just pat your head and snorted, "it's fine... Pipsqueak."

Then, as days went by, you start to see him more often, passing by each other in the hallways in-between faculty buildings. You thought it was normal, until your friend mentioned something about your faculty building and his being pretty far.

He started getting bolder with you, and it took you a while to register until you realized he was flirting. He asked you out one day, and you accepted, and your first date was in his apartment, with him cooking for you.

It was cute. And heart-warming. You never felt an ounce of romance before this. When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, you looked around, before twisting the knob.

Once you walked inside and flipped the lightswitch on, your jaw dropped in shock.

There were multiple photos of you taken from various angles in different places. A lot of them had blurry edges, and you quickly realized he hid behind corners to stalk you. Some of them were even taken inside your dorm. There were multiple photos of you sleeping, studying during class, even taking a bath.

As you turned around, he stood in the doorway, his smile bright, albeit deranged, "pipsqueak... I never wanted you to find out like this."

He bared his teeth, stepping forward, "but I guess life just throws in surprises, huh?"

Just like when you accidentally spilled his coffee on him.

[mephisto-reporting]

The Engineer's Gravity - Yandere! Caleb

Plot: You're a biomechanical engineer in Caleb's fleet, incharge of repairs of prosthetic parts. What happens when you become the subject of the Colonel's obsession? Based on this request. Pairing: Non MC Mechanic! Reader x Yandere! Caleb Note: This story is with slightly darker themes. I do not want people to come at me saying Caleb isn't like this. Yes, I know. This is a Yandere! version of Caleb. Please keep that in mind. If you want to be a part of my taglist, please let me know in the comments, DMs or inbox. Content warning: Yandere male, implied deaths, mutilation, mentions of blood, possessiveness, gaslighting, voilence

CALEB'S POV

The faint hum of the Farspace fleet’s engines was a constant background noise, a rhythm that Caleb had grown accustomed to. It filled the silence as he walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the engineering bay, his gloved left hand flexing instinctively while his right hand remained eerily still. It wasn’t the arm itself that unnerved him anymore. No, he’d gotten used to the weight, the cool touch of the synthetic skin against his chest when he rested his hand there. What grated on him was the maintenance—the vulnerability of needing someone else to keep it functional.

The first time he’d come to the mechanic for maintenance, he had been indifferent, as he was to most things in his life. The arm was a tool, no more. Just another part of the machine that was Caleb, the Colonel. She was just another cog in the vast machine of the fleet, a means to an end. He barely remembered their first meeting beyond her clinical efficiency and soft voice, far removed from the barked commands of his officers or the detached drone of his superiors. She’d introduced herself simply, a name he didn’t bother committing to memory at the time, and had begun her work without wasting a second.

He’d sat in silence, his arm stretched out on the diagnostic table, his gaze fixed on the wall as she meticulously checked the connections and replaced worn components. She’d asked him questions—about the arm’s performance, any discomfort he’d noticed—but he’d only answered in monosyllables. He wasn’t trying to be rude; he just didn’t see the point.

She had been… different.

No. She spoke with compassion, with a voice that held an undercurrent of something human. When she’d first touched his arm to inspect it, there was no clinical detachment in her touch—no cold professionalism. Instead, there was a softness, a care.

But she kept showing up, week after week, her presence a constant thread in his routine. She didn’t just maintain his arm; she paid attention. She noticed when he was tense and adjusted her tone accordingly. When she worked, she hummed under her breath—a tune he couldn’t place but found oddly soothing. And unlike the professor who saw him as little more than a prototype for their next experiment, she treated him like a person.

Caleb first noticed it when she spoke to the other fleet members. The soldiers and officers with Toring chips embedded in their bodies, their minds augmented for efficiency but stripped of their individuality, were often treated as tools. Most of the crew barely acknowledged them, but she… she smiled at them. Asked about their day. Made sure they were comfortable during her examinations and modifications.

It wasn’t long before Caleb began to see her differently.

Their interactions changed subtly over time. He found himself lingering in the engineering bay longer than necessary, watching her work under the sharp white lights. She was focused, hands deft as they manipulated wires and micro-tools, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re due for recalibration next week, Colonel.” she said during one session, not looking up from the neural interface she was fine-tuning.

“I’ll be here,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “You’re good at this.”

She glanced at him, surprised. “I’ve had a lot of practice.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not just the work. The way you… treat people. You’re good at that, too.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might dismiss the comment. But instead, she smiled—a soft, genuine thing that made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter.” she said simply, turning back to his arm.

He didn’t respond, but those words stayed with him long after he left the bay. Caleb watched her closely, taking note of every smile, every laugh, every time she showed kindness to someone else. It made something dark curl in his chest.

The first time Caleb intervened on her behalf, it was almost instinctual.

He was passing through the mess hall when he heard the sharp edge of Lieutenant Varro’s voice. “You know, for all your compassion, you take forever with repairs. Maybe stop coddling the freaks and do your job faster.”

Caleb froze, his blood turning cold. He rounded the corner to see Varro towering over her, his expression smug. She was holding a tray of food, her shoulders tense but her expression calm as she replied, “I do my job thoroughly, Lieutenant. If you’re unhappy with my work, you can file a complaint.”

Caleb’s steps faltered, his jaw tightening. A cold, simmering rage filled him as he turned to look at the man. He wanted to snap his neck right then and there, but he couldn’t let her see this side of him. Not yet.

So he smiled instead. A cold, calculating smile that sent a chill down Varro’s spine.

“Lieutenant,” Caleb said, his tone deceptively calm. “A word.”

Later that night, Varro didn’t return to his quarters. Whispers spread through the fleet about an "incident" during a routine maintenance check. Caleb made sure it looked like an accident—a malfunction in Varro's own bionic enhancements. No one questioned it, least of all her.

She remained blissfully unaware of the lengths Caleb went to for her.

As the days turned into weeks, Caleb’s obsession deepened. He found himself lingering in her workshop longer than necessary, watching her every move. She would smile at him, her eyes warm and kind, and Caleb would feel something he hadn’t felt since he left home for the DAA. A strange, aching need to keep her close.

“You know,” she said one day, her voice light, “you don’t always have to come here for repairs. You can just... visit, if you want.”

Caleb froze, his gaze locking onto hers. Did she know? Had she figured out how much he craved her presence? But her smile was so genuine, so innocent, that he realized she didn’t suspect a thing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady.

He told her about his family one evening, when the workshop was quiet and the rest of the fleet was asleep. He spoke of the girl he had grown up with, her fiery spirit, and the way she had  carved a place for herself in Linkon.

“She is strong…” Caleb said, his voice low. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

She listened intently, her expression soft. “You must miss her.” she said gently.

Caleb hesitated. Did he? The memory of that girl felt distant, overshadowed by the woman sitting in front of him.

“I don’t think about her much anymore.” he admitted. “There are... other things on my mind.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press.

But Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about the way her hands moved over his arm, the way her laughter echoed in the workshop, the way she seemed to light up the cold, sterile corridors of the fleet.

And when he saw other officers talking to her, laughing with her, something in him snapped. He didn’t like the way they looked at her. He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to her.

Caleb began to manipulate things behind the scenes, ensuring that no one spent too much time with her. He assigned officers to tasks that kept them far away from her workshop. He spread subtle rumors, casting doubt on the intentions of anyone who showed too much interest in her.

She never noticed. She never questioned why the workshop seemed quieter, why fewer people came to her for help.

And Caleb made sure it stayed that way. In the privacy of his quarters, Caleb would sit in the dim light, his bionic hand flexing involuntarily as he thought about her. She was his. She didn’t know it yet, but she belonged to him.

And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her close.

Even if it meant destroying anyone who stood in his way.

YOUR POV

Lately, you’d noticed something strange.

The crew didn’t treat you the way they used to. At first, it was subtle—an officer averting his gaze when you greeted him in the corridor, a technician hurriedly ending a conversation when you approached. Then it became more blatant. People gave you a wide berth in the cafeteria, whispers died the moment you entered a room, and the occasional sidelong glances you caught were laced with something unspoken.

Fear.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always prided yourself on being approachable, on treating everyone with the respect they deserved. Sure, your work was demanding, and your position as the fleet’s biomechanical engineer meant you often had to be firm when it came to protocols, but you weren’t cruel. Far from it. You treated the crew like people, not machines.

But now? It was as though you carried some invisible aura that screamed danger.

And then there were the... incidents.

The first time, you brushed it off as coincidence. Lieutenant Gregor had been reassigned to another fleet without warning, just days after he’d mocked you during a team briefing. You’d chalked it up to bad luck or his own poor behavior catching up to him.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Officers and fleet members who dismissed your concerns, who snapped at you during high-stress missions, who made snide comments about your methods—they all disappeared. Some were reassigned to far-off posts, others were suddenly discharged for disciplinary reasons, and a few even suffered freak accidents that left them unfit for duty.

The pattern was impossible to ignore.

The only constant in all of this was the Colonel.

Or just Caleb, as he’d asked you to call him when it was just the two of you.

“Colonel” felt too formal, too distant, he’d said one evening as you adjusted the fine motor controls on his bionic hand. He’d leaned back in the chair, watching you with an intensity that made you feel both self-conscious and oddly comforted.

“Just Caleb,” he’d said, his voice softer than usual. “When we’re alone.”

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Over the past few months, he’d become a steady presence in your life, someone you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

And lately, he seemed to be around you more than ever.

It wasn’t just during maintenance sessions anymore. He’d stop by your workshop for no apparent reason, lingering by your workbench as you tinkered with your tools. He’d accompany you on supply runs, his tall frame a protective shadow at your side. When the fleet docked at Skyhaven for shore leave, he invited you to join him for coffee or walks through the market district. He’d cook for you and bring you meals to your residence in Skyhaven, unprompted.

It felt... nice.

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. Caleb had a dry sense of humor that never failed to catch you off guard, and there was a steadiness to him that you found grounding. Still, there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The way he always seemed to know when someone had upset you. The way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, as if he were memorizing every detail. The way his voice dropped when he said your name, like it was a secret only he was allowed to keep.

You tried to push the thoughts aside. Caleb was your superior, your colonel. He’d never given you any reason to distrust him. And yet...

One evening, as you recalibrated the sensory feedback in his arm, you decided to bring it up.

“Have you noticed how people have been acting lately?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you adjusted a tiny screw. “It’s like they think I’m some kind of... I don’t know, threat or something.”

You glanced up at Caleb, expecting him to shrug it off with one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, his body tensed, just for a moment. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you might have missed it.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“It’s just a feeling.” you said, turning back to his arm. “People avoiding me, whispering when they think I can’t hear. And then there are the reassignment orders. It’s like anyone who crosses me is... gone.”

There was a long pause.

“It’s nothing.” Caleb said finally. “Tensions have been high since the last Deepspace tunnel exploration. People are on edge.”

You frowned but didn’t press the issue. Maybe he was right. The fleet had been through a lot recently, and stress had a way of making people act strangely. Still, something about his explanation didn’t sit right with you.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “That makes sense.”

But it didn’t. Not entirely.

Still, you knew better than to poke your nose where it didn’t belong. You’d learned long ago that asking too many questions could lead to trouble, and trouble was the last thing you needed.

So you stayed in your lane, focusing on your work and pretending not to notice the way Caleb’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of your life. You told yourself it was fine, that his increased attention was nothing to worry about. After all, you trusted Caleb. He’d always been kind to you, always treated you with respect. And if his gaze lingered a little too long, if his touch was a little too gentle when he handed you a tool, if his smile held a hint of something darker—you ignored it.

Because Caleb was the only person who hadn’t changed. The only person who still treated you like... you.

The ship was silent at night, the hum of its engines a low, constant thrum beneath your feet as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. You’d been restless, the bitter taste of Lieutenant Reese’s words still fresh in your mind. The new Lieutenant had been transferred to Caleb’s fleet three weeks ago and was already causing tensions within the hierarchy of how things ran in the fleet.

“Guess even engineers need quotas filled, huh? They really let anyone take up space on this ship these days,” he had sneered during a systems check earlier. “Bet you’ve only kept this position because someone up high likes the way you look.”

His smirk had twisted into something crueler as he leaned closer. “Face it. You’re not here because you’re good—you’re here because you’re convenient.”

The humiliation burned as much now as it had then. You clenched your fists at the memory, your footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. You’d worked too hard, poured too much of yourself into your work, to have it dismissed so callously. And yet, his words lingered like a stain, refusing to be scrubbed away.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the sound.

A muffled grunt. A crash.

And then—a sickening crunch.

You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, to return to your quarters and pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But your curiosity—or perhaps some misplaced sense of duty—compelled you forward. Quietly, you padded down the corridor, following the noise until you reached a maintenance bay.

What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

Caleb stood over Lieutenant Reese, who was slumped against the wall, blood smeared across his face. The lieutenant’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his body trembling as he let out a pained whimper. Caleb’s hand was clamped tightly around Reese’s throat, his grip firm but not enough to choke.

Not yet.

“You thought you could get away with it?” Caleb said, his voice low and steady, each word laced with venom. “Insulting her. Undermining her. Disrespecting her.”

Reese tried to stammer out a response, but Caleb’s hand tightened, silencing him.

“You signed your life away the moment you opened your mouth.” Caleb continued, his tone almost conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a supply requisition. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever be. Do you even understand that?”

Reese’s legs kicked weakly, his breaths ragged. Caleb tilted his head, his expression shifting from cold fury to mild disappointment.

“Pathetic!” he muttered, releasing the lieutenant’s throat. Reese crumpled to the ground, wheezing and coughing. Caleb watched him for a moment, then raised his foot and brought it down sharply on Reese’s hand. The sound of bones breaking echoed in the bay.

The lieutenant went limp, his body a lifeless heap. Caleb crouched beside him, his expression one of disdain. “Weak,” he said, his voice barely audible.

And then he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the air thick with tension. Caleb’s expression shifted from cold to shocked in the blink of an eye, but his eyes—the ones that had always been so warm towards you—now seemed empty, calculating.

He stood still for a moment, then took a step toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His voice was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

“Don’t be scared,” Caleb said softly, though there was an edge to his words. “I’m just protecting you. I would never let anyone hurt you, never.”

Your mind raced, your pulse quickening. You’d seen this side of Caleb before—quiet, intense, protective—but this? This was something else. He was different.

“Protected me?” you repeated, your heart pounding. “From what?”

“From him,” Caleb replied, gesturing to Reese’s motionless form. “He disrespected you. He questioned your worth. He hurt you.”

His gaze softened, and he took another step closer. “I won’t allow that. Not from him. Not from anyone.”

“This—this isn’t right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” Caleb interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I will. You may not see it now, but this is what’s necessary.”

You stared at him, searching for any hint of remorse, but there was none. Only conviction.

“I’ll always protect you.” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Even when you think you don’t need it. Even when you don’t understand why.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. But even as you tried to process what you’d seen and heard, a cold realization settled over you.

He closed the distance between you, his steps soft but purposeful, until he was standing right in front of you. His face was close, too close, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been through so much,” he continued, his voice soothing, almost affectionate. “You don’t need to worry about the people who don’t understand you. I’ll always protect you.” He repeats. “Even when you don’t ask for it.”

You swallowed; your throat dry. You should have been afraid, terrified even. But you weren’t. A part of you was frozen, caught in the web of his words, of his gaze. He was so sure of himself, so confident, and it was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that.

His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re mine,” Caleb whispered, his words not a command but a promise. “No one will ever take you from me. Not ever.”

You should have questioned it, should have asked him what he meant, why he was doing this. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, you realized you couldn’t escape.

Not really.

You knew who Caleb was. You knew what he was capable of. And you knew that the resources of the Farspace Fleet, the professor, and Caleb’s power meant there was no running, no hiding from him. You’d seen what happened to those who crossed you. And now, you didn’t doubt for a second that Caleb was behind it.

But what unnerved you most was the way he looked at you now. Not with malice, not with cruelty, but with something softer. Something almost tender.

“Stay.” he said, his voice coaxing. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there. And yet... you nodded.

Because deep down, you knew he was right about one thing.

Caleb would never hurt you.

As long as you stayed.

He would never let anyone touch you. He would never let anyone harm you.

You were his, and he was yours.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood there, the weight of his gaze heavy on you.

And as Caleb stepped back, his eyes softening, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips, you knew one thing for certain: you were far past the point of no return.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

[vvvivvvv]

I'll honestly call him a good boy as a true yandere enjoyer

[suguru-getos]

-> caleb x f!reader: all mine <3

summary: colonel caleb comes back home to you after you’ve been on house-arrest, he makes it up to you though. in his own, caleby-way.

warnings: fluff, caleb is a canon yandere so of course there are hints of being crazy. edging, sex (p in v), dirtytalking, comfort and aftercare. caleb is devoted guys!!

author’s note: hellu hellu l&ds fandom 🙇🏻‍♀️ please accept my humble peace offering as i try to make my way in >:3 LET ME INN! :>

the skyhaven fleet returns today after three days of wandering in the deepspace tunnel. you knew that meant their colonel would be returning with them. you’re couped up in caleb’s house; another house arrest against your will, struggling and sighing when you tried your luck for the nth time. the robot caleb made for you only trifles around with your favorite food and drinks.

“an apology would be nice.” you scoffed, you meant from him. but after being caught red-handed on your escape, with wounds on your leg… you knew you couldn’t hold it against caleb for too long. when you were little, if any activity made you get wounded — whether playing, or participating in thar culinary thing you decided you’d try… caleb would ban it. you are so used to him looking over you that some part of you feels conditioned about it. the way caleb’s evol make you feel— restricted, but not so much.

“the skyhaven fleet has landed.” the news stirrs you up. and you watch their plane land. an exasperated gasp leaves you in annoyance. caleb is here… you don’t know if you like his presence right about now, after feeling lonely, or you hate him for doing this to you.

you decide to get into the kitchen, you are craving instant ramen right about now. and so, you take it out and pour water in your ‘pink-coloured’ pan. caleb and his excessive theatrics honestly… you scoffed, letting the water come to a boil before you carefully soak in the dried noodles. just about then, the door knob clicks and opens. astoundingly tall, rougishly handsome, and excessively intimidating looking— colonel of the skyhaven fleet.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. focus. you chide yourself, eyes darting back to the noodles. “hey now- that’s not how you welcome me ever?” caleb seems normal, chirpy as usual. you don’t know what to believe at this point. “you’re not welcome, caleb.” you scoffed, feeling his footsteps near you and stand in front of the kitchen counter, eyes darting down at the bubbling, simmering noodles.

“that’s not healthy-“

your eyes dart at caleb in an, ‘i dare you to say more’ stance. jaw clenched.

“that’s. not healthy. pipsqueak.” caleb doesn’t relent again, walking towards the refrigerator with no qualms in offending you when it came to your well being. he opens the fridge and adds two eggs on a pan. “protein.”

then takes out the chicken salami slices, placing them in the same pan. you sigh in defeat. “caleb— i don’t like it here.” you brace yourself for his response. “aw- you just missed me baby.” he hums, walking closer to you, hand raising to headpat you. you look to the side, shoulders slumped. a pang of hesitation gnaws at his cheat, and he just pats your shoulder. “you would get used to it, i promise. and i will let the other squadrons under me run deepspace missions, hm? sounds okay? i can be that old caleb that spent time with you in your room just because.”

there is a hint of yearning behind his eyes, a sick devotion that makes you uncomfortable. so you try to excuse yourself, somehow your rage has melted pathetically now that caleb is here, safe and sound.

you’re stopped by his evol, like a wall in front of you, reminding you not to turn your back on him. “WHAT!”

you turn around, tears prickling in your eyes, “why’re you doing this to me? i don’t want to be in the same FUCKING ROOM AS YOU CALE—”

with one swift motion, caleb picks you up, placing you on the counter, him nudged between your legs. “ssshhh~ its okay, don’t get agitated pipsqueak. i don’t want your resting heart rate to be bad cus’ of me.” he coos, always gentle— always suffocatingly gentle— taking his colonel hat out and making you wear it. it smells warm, like him, warm and musky, with a hint of woody undertones… the same warmth that feels scorching right now.

you look up at him, into his eyes, “don’t do this.” your plea falls into deaf ears as he leans in, even further in when you try to lean back. its when his lips brush against you, your hands pressed against the crisp & well-ironed clothing of his to push him back- falling and surrendering when you realize you can’t.

just like your childhood, this is just one of those times that caleb gets what he wants…

“that’s it, pretty girl. just like that—“ he praises when you let go, the pad of his thumb caressing your lower lip. “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you. remember that.”

you just gawk at him, dumbfounded. chest heaving at the loss of air. you reflexively smack him right across his cheek. your nimble fingers imprinting on his pale skin as the force tilts his face to the side. the sudden warmth on his cheek makes him palm it, adjusting his jaw.

“ow.” he says, unimpressed.

your brows crease, the push and pull of your relationship with caleb is exhausting. you cup his face the very next moment. leaning in… balming him with a kiss on the cheek. “that was for locking me in.” you pout, the same pout that would make him work the ends of the world for you.

“you can hit me as many times as you want, use me as your punching bag, baby. but you are not going out of my sight again.” his words are spoken with such delirious conviction they make you anxious. “i’ll create a safe space for you, something you don’t want to go away from. i promise.” he nods, fingers turning the knob of the now cooked food.

“eat well, i’ll get changed.” he kissed your forehead, pecking your lips and walking away. you stare at your feet the entire time… caleb is not someone who strays away from what he wants. you need to figure something out.

you settle in with your ramen and the sides caleb prepared, eating with a happy sigh. the food is good. and all this tension with him had made you a little peckish. “hey.” he comes out, wearing just a towel, another one helping him to dry his air.

“hey—“ you hummned, sighing softly. “wanna taste? this is good.” you smile softly, distracting. you know exactly what he’s doing .

“oh? am i being forgiven?” he smiles, leaning over with his usual, rougish charm on his face as he takes a bite. “not a chance, caleb.” you roll your eyes, “i still- am mad at you.” you wanted to say i still hate you— in the shallow sense, but you know how badly caleb would take it.

“let me make it up to you, all this pent up frustration of being inside has made my baby irritated and fussy.” his finger trails along your thigh. you hate how his touch feels so good. you hate how he knows exactly what you like, you hate how much he loves you.

you gaze up at him, swallowing your last bite thickly. that’s all is needed by caleb. that’s all he needs as cue. his hands feverishly grab you close, carrying you to his bedroom princess style. “she just missed me is all.” he hums to himself, peppering soft and needy kisses all over your face and neck. your hands touch his bare back, the skin-to-skin contact riling you up more than you’d want. you know what’s going to happen. caleb will fuck your brains out and you will not be able to walk or complain because you fucking like it.

you shudder softly when he takes the liberty to peel off your clothing, revealing you braless. “no one wears bras in the house.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes when his all-knowing smirk builds up. “oh i know pipsqueak, how much you hate bras.”

he leans in, nuzzling between the valley of your breasts, rolling your hardening nubs between his thumb and index finger, pinching them, tugging at them. “went to your first bra shopping with you. it was that red lace one you liked best. made me jealous that you get to see yourself like that everyday..” he hums, peppering soft kisses all over you like your devoted lover.

you gasp out at his touches, cunt clamping at his words & his ever so sharp memory. his hands trail down to the waistband of your panties, fingers caressing your warm pussy. “oh— dripping.” he croons, nibbling at your nipple. “all i have to do is play with my doll the right way and she will welcome me with open arms~ or rather, an open cunt.” caleb missed you, perhaps even more than you missed him. he wastes no time in thrusting two fingers inside you, your back arching off the back at the stretch. “gah- shit-“

his evol pins you down again. “ah ah- take it like a good girl. i’m making up to you baby.” he smiles, sliding and peeling off your panties and gawking at your cunt, the pretty pink of your walls stretched by his thick fingers, the way your clit twitches at the lack of attention. “mine.” he purrs, leaning in and caressing your g-spot. the actions have you seeing stars so soon, so fast.

a strangled cry escapes from your throat, when you start to get riled up, climbing to the edge of your orgasm with every administration from caleb. the way your gummy walls flutter around him for more, aching for more. but caleb is relentless.

“caleb— please—“ you shudder, struggling at the feeling of him. “please please—“

the pleas, the ragged breaths, everything— feels like music to his ears, oh he could get off just from this alone. the cock sprawling free from his towel seconds ago. angry & drooling. caleb is thick & girthy, veins flowing across his shaft and you know you struggle to take him every single time, and every single time caleb tells you that you can. you just need to tough it out.

“beg properly.” the expression on his face changes back to a stern one. his fingers don’t stop. “tell me to touch your pretty clit, tell me only i make you feel good.” his demand is simple: tell him that only he can grant you the pleasure you seek. tell him that he is the answer to everything.

“caleb— please- touch my clit, you make me feel good.” your brain is foggy at the impending pleasure. you are so malleable right now. you could do anything, be anything for him. his compliant little doll.

“see? you just needed to ask me the right way sweetheart.” he hums, thumb rubbing slow, rhythmic circles onto your bundle of nerves. the new sensation has you tweaking, your legs itching to press close at the raw assault, but his evol is cruel.

“hah- nngh-“ you moan out, tears prickling. you feel yourself close to the edge, you feel the orgasm tearing you apart. “cum.” caleb says like another order you have to follow, and your body complies like he has the remote control. squirming & shaking at the pleasure. the pace of his fingers only gets faster, the movements on his clit slowing down so you could feel the waves of the orgasm reach every single cell. his other hand lands on your pelvis, feeling your muscles contract as the orgasm shakes you up inside out.

“oh good girl. what a good little girl. letting me do whatever i want to her pretty body.” he croons, leaning in and slurping off all the essence that you could offer him. the way his tongue cleans you up has you etching the trails of overstimulation. your hands haphazardly gripping at his hair, trying to push him away. “hah- too much.”

caleb nips at your swollen clit as warning. “don’t tell me what’s too much for you and what’s not, pipsqueak. i know you better than you know yourself.” its like he’s training your body, and your mind… imparting things you have no choice but to believe him with the proof of your body slaving for him.

he spreads your legs up, holding your ankles together in one hand. “not going easy on you.” he kisses your ankle, caressing the skin. “you need to know how much you feel when you’re with me.” and just like that, his girthy cock pierces itself in your folds, your pressed thighs adding the additional friction. caleb grunts, smirking. its like a challenge.

you moan out loud, gripping the headboard and the bedsheets in a feeble attempt to catch your fleeting sanity. malleable. caleb knows how to make you malleable.

“oh like a mould.” he chuckles, his pupils blown out completely at the tightness of your pussy. “looks like your little hole forgot my shape and now i have to pump her back to my shape~ tame her to know she only has me. just like you.” his thrusts are punishing, every single one if them making his balls slap against your ass, torturously intense. you’re seeing stars, mouth parted agape… the pain drilling a lesson into your heart, the pleasure sealing the lesson.

“you belong to me.” caleb repeats the said lesson against the shell of your ear, “understand?”

you nod like a bobblehead. “yeah-! gah- belong- mmm~” words are failing you. and caleb has you right where he wants.

your walls flutter around his cock soon enough, clamping over & over. milking him just the way he wants. “wanna cum again babygirl?” caleb pouts softly at your pathetic nods, taking his cock out.

the loss of contact has you tearing up instantly, a whine parting from your lips when the cherished feeling of being so full of him is gone. “oh i know sweetheart.” caleb feigns sympathy. “not sure if you deserve to be bred by me… since you want to leave me and all.” asshole. caleb is a fucking asshole.

“i hate you.” you say such powerful words with such a feeble whimper its alluring to him.

“tell me you hate me enough to stay for a hundred years with me.” caleb grips your face, watching your puckered lips. “tell me you hate me enough to love me through whoever i become—“ caleb’s tip teases through your folds again, and you can’t help but sob. “i love you caleb— gonna- be there- till you’re- you’re okay- and not anxious about me-“ you sniffle, and his expression instantly changes.

“that’s it, it’s okay. m’ not caging you little one. i hate caging you. we live in a world that is undeserving of you.” he nuzzles his nose. “i love you so much, ssshh~ stop crying, it’s okay, i’ll give you what you want. mmm?” he croons, whispers softly, kissing your tears away and letting him find his way back to your needy hole.

“daddy loves you like its breathing.” he kisses you softly, “tell me you know it~” his thrusts begin again, missionary this time so you can see the sincerity on his face clearly.

“daddy- hnn~ loves me like its breathing.” your back arches again, his relentless evol letting you go as you tip off the edge, the orgasm making your walls milk every last shred of his seed, “oh that’s it, so perfect-“ his breath hitches, a few more sloppy thrusts until he stops, leaning against the crook of your neck.

you pant heavily, breathing bated and needy as ever. “caleb-“ you hummed, murmuring softly. “i don’t want to be in skyhaven anymore.” your voice sounds like something he couldn’t possibly ignore…

“then lets go on a vacation back to linkon, i will take a leave; a holiday where it’s just the two of us.” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “you did so well for me baby, like always.” caleb takes pride in taking your virginity, as much as you hate him, he’s been there with you when you both were six years old.

“let go, i’ll take care of you now.” his words sound like a fleeting announcement, your eyelids drooping down. you’re relaxed right now, and maybe when you would be up tomorrow with caleb preparing your favorite breakfast, you’d try to see past his irratic possessiveness & dangerous territorialness…

yeah, tomorrow…

[losermuse]

HOW TO MANIPULATE WIN YOUR EX BACK 101 ~ by caleb

CW: 18+ (mdni), fem & non-hunter mc, delusional yandere!caleb, pet names (baby & pipsqueak), male & female masturbation (separate), piv (in caleb’s imagination) , praise kink, panty sniffing, voyeurism (?), stalking, manipulation, gaslighting, power dynamic. WC: 9.4k AN: finally posting this after a month! comments & reblogs are highly appreciated <3

Your relationship with Caleb was brief, just a few months, but it felt suffocatingly long. You had always valued your independence, the freedom to spread your wings and fly wherever you pleased. But with him? It was like having those wings clipped, held down by invisible strings of concern, control, and possessiveness disguised as love.

At first, it was subtly sweet. The way he always wanted to know where you were, checking in constantly like he cared a little too much. The way he insisted on picking you up from work, from dinners, from places you were perfectly capable of leaving on your own.

But then it escalated. 

Questions turned into interrogations. Concerns turned into restrictions. Suddenly, your phone buzzed with his messages every time you were out, and your decisions were met with disapproving looks and lectures disguised as "worry."

And it only got worse because you had no Evol, no abilities to shield you from danger, no built-in safeguard if something went wrong. To him, that made you vulnerable, fragile and in need of someone like him. But seriously though, you have managed just fine before he ever came into your life.

At first, you tolerated it, convincing yourself it was just his way of showing love. You dismissed it as a habit from his job as a colonel, structured, disciplined, and always anticipating worst-case scenarios. You told yourself it was normal, that some people love fiercely, protectively and maybe that’s true.  

But love shouldn’t feel like surveillance. It shouldn’t feel like being second-guessed at every turn, like justifying your choices to someone who sees your independence as a threat instead of a strength. It shouldn’t feel like ripping your wings, like trading your freedom for someone else’s comfort.  

And the moment you realized that? You knew it was over.

–

The phone buzzed in your hand, ‘Caleb ♡’ flashing across the screen for the fifth time in a row. You hesitated, exhaling slowly before finally answering.

“You’re still ignoring me?” His voice came through the speaker, tight with frustration. No hello. No softness.

You rolled your eyes, shifting the suitcase beside you. “I’m not ignoring you, Caleb. I’m busy packing.”

“For that trip,” he said flatly.

“Yes. For that trip.”

A tense silence stretched between you. Then, with a humourless laugh, he said, “So you’re really going through with this?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already exhausted. “Caleb, I’ve told you a hundred times—this is happening. It’s just me and the girls. It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is to me,” he snapped. “You’re leaving for an entire weekend, in Linkon City, with no one looking out for you. Do you know how dangerous that is? Especially with the Wanderers around.”

Your grip tightened on the phone. “Linkon City is perfectly safe, thanks to the Hunters, and I know how to take care of myself.”

“That’s not the point.” His voice dropped, low and insistent. “What if something happens to you? What if you need me and I’m not there?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Caleb, something always ‘might’ happen. I could trip over my own feet walking down the street, and you’d still act like I need supervision.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you thinking my freedom is something you have a right to control.”

Another silence. You could almost picture him now, jaw clenched, hands running through his hair in frustration. But you were past the point of softening your words to ease his temper.

“I love you,” he finally said, voice quieter now. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart clenched, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “You already did.”

Caleb drew in a breath like he was about to argue, to find the right words to pull you back, but you didn’t give him the chance. You ended the call before he could even try, letting the silence speak for itself.

She’s gone…she actually just hung up on me. Just like that?

She thinks she’s done with me? Cute. Adorable, even. She’s just confused right now. A phase. A temporary lapse in judgment. I mean, we were practically perfect together—okay, maybe not perfect, but close enough. We had a good thing. I’ll give her a few weeks or months to stew over it. She’ll come back. She just doesn’t know it yet.

She needs “freedom”? Sure. Great. Go ahead and get your little “freedom,” pipsqueak. Go on your trip with the girls and post your little Instagram stories with your cocktails and your cheesy ‘healing’ captions. I’ll pretend like I’m not paying attention to the comments or checking who’s liking every picture.

But the second she realizes that no one out there will worship the ground she walks on like I do? The second she sees that no other guy will remember every little detail about her—how she likes her tea, how she hums that one song when she’s doing the dishes but refuses to admit it’s her favourite, how she’s got a million tabs open on her browser but never actually reads anything?

She’ll come running back.

She’ll remember how good we were together. How great we were.

I will wait for you when you are ready. 

– 

You felt… liberated, to say the least. A weekend away with your girlfriends was just what you needed. You spent hours catching up, sharing stories, and laughing—something you hadn't realized you’d missed so much. When you told them about your breakup with Caleb, they were surprised but not entirely shocked. They knew you valued your independence too much to settle for anything less than respect, and Caleb's overbearing nature had always been a point of concern for them.

The weekend unfolded in a blissful blur of indulgence and carefree moments. You enjoyed fancy dinners, basked under the sun at the beach, and dipped your feet into the pool while losing yourself in a book. You sipped on refreshing mocktails, took silly pictures, and felt the weight of stress melt away.

At the beach, you and your friends lounged on the warm sand, indulging in playful eye-candy scouting, and a man with dusky purple hair and striking bluish-pink eyes caught your attention. He looked almost unreal, like something pulled from the pages of a fairytale. Ethereal. Enchanting. If mermaids walked on land, you were certain they’d look just like him.

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb took matters into his own hands. While you were away, he broke into your apartment—too bad your security wasn’t up to par. That’s exactly why you needed someone like him, right? His eyes roamed your personal space like it was land he wasn’t prepared to lose. He set up cameras carefully, one in the living room, another in your bedroom, and even one in the bathroom. To Caleb, letting you slip away wasn’t an option.

He’d give you the space you demanded, sure, but only on his terms. In his mind, you were still his regardless of what you thought. He convinced himself that it was his right to keep watch and to ensure your safety, with or without your consent.

–

When you returned to Skyhaven, it hit you—reality, that is. Back to your job, back to your life, and Caleb…well, Caleb wasn’t part of that anymore. You have ended things. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. You had expected him to bombard you with texts, but surprisingly, your phone was quiet. Too quiet.

You even posted a picture of yourself in that dress—the one that hugged your figure just right, the colours bright against your skin and the way the hibiscus in your hair caught the light. You were proud of how you looked, but when you checked your notifications, there was no comment, no like from him. A little part of you felt a pang, but you shook it off.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb had seen the picture, and it consumed him. He was furious, very furious that you dared to wear something so revealing, something that might catch the eye of someone else, without him there. If you were going to wear something like that, it should’ve been with him by your side, where he could keep an eye on you. He would’ve let you wear it, after all, he could fight anyone who dared to look too long, but without him around? It made his blood boil.

And yet, despite the frustration, his body betrayed him. The second he saw that picture, he was already half-hard. God, you guys had never even fucked. You had called it “too soon” and had wanted to take things slow, and fine—he respected that. Somewhat. But damn, you had no idea how badly you messed with him, how pent-up he always was around you.

His fist clenched as he freed himself from his sweatpants, his cock already straining. One hand gripping his phone, the other wrapped around his length, stroking slowly as he imagined it was you—your soft hands and your cunt wrapped around him instead. 

His breathing turned ragged as the images flooded his mind. He pictured you beneath him, stretched wide with your voice trembling as you begged him to go slow, to be gentle. Fuck, he wanted to come, but the frustration twisted inside him, mixing with his hunger. He needed more. He needed you.

Tossing his phone aside, he got up and strode to his dresser, yanking open the drawer. And there it was, the hidden treasure—delicate and lace-trimmed, the soft fabric nestled right where he left it. Your panties.

 He may or may not have swiped them when he was setting up the cameras in your apartment, but did that matter? That’s the least you could do for breaking up with him over the phone.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply with his eyes fluttering shut. The scent was faint, just traces of laundry detergent and fabric softener, but he wanted more. He wanted them used, soaked in your scent, dripping in proof of how much you needed him. His fingers tightened around the fabric as he pumped his cock faster, lost in the thought of ruining you, marking you, making sure you never even considered leaving him again.

"Caleb!" Your voice cracked, high and desperate. His cock twitched at the sound.

He could almost feel it—the way your walls clenched around him, trying to force him out while greedily pulling him back in.

"St–stop!"

He chuckled darkly, leaning down, his breath hot against your ear. "Stop?" he echoed mockingly. His hand gripped your thigh, pressing your legs apart despite the way you trembled beneath him. "You’re squeezing me so tight, pips. You don’t really want me to stop, do you?"

Your nails dug into his shoulders, useless resistance. "N-no… but—"

“That’s right,” he growled, thrusting deeper, drinking in the way you choked on your own breath. "You take me so well. Like you were made for this. Made for me."

He imagined your head tilting back, lips trembling, and body writhing against the sheets, too fucked-out to fight him anymore. Your voice, once filled with hesitation, melted into helpless little whimpers.

"Too—too much, Caleb…"

“Too much?” He kissed down your throat, his teeth scraping against your pulse. "But pipsqueak, I’m just getting started."

His strokes quickened, both in reality and the vivid fantasy he was spiralling deeper into. The panties in his grasp crumpled under the force of his grip, his knuckles turning white as he pressed the fabric against his nose, desperate to drown in the ghost of your presence.

He could see it so clearly—you spreading out beneath him, legs trembling and tears glistening in your eyes. Wrecked. Shattered.

“That’s my girl. You don’t need to think, just feel. Let me take care of you.”

His hips jerked, pleasure coiling tight, winding dangerously. He imagined the final moment—your body arching, your lips parting in a silent scream as he claimed you.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as his release overtook him, thick ropes of white spilling over his abs and chest. His body shuddered, fingers twitching, and his breath was unsteady.

But as the high ebbed, a bitter frustration gnawed at him.

It wasn’t enough.

Because it wasn’t you. Not yet.

step 1: show her that youre a 'changed man'

‘coincidentally’ run into her

dress well (make sure she notices) 

speak softly

give her the puppy eyes, shes always been weak for that

ask her if she wanna be friends 

smile, but not too much

A few months had passed since the breakup. Life moved forward, as it always did. You missed him sometimes, small moments of nostalgia creeping in when you passed by places you once shared. But you reminded yourself why you left. Missing someone didn’t mean you belonged with them.

Caleb, however, never truly left.

He had been watching. Through the flickering screens in his dimly lit room, through the quiet hum of surveillance, he had memorised every part of your life. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear while reading, the way you curled up on the couch with your favourite mug. He studied your routine like a scripture.

And now, it was time.

He knew your new favourite café—how you liked to sit by the window, how you always ordered the same drink. So when he "accidentally" ran into you, it would feel natural.

A harmless coincidence.

"Wow, I wasn’t expecting to see you here… You look good."

Your head snapped up at the familiar voice. “Oh… hey.” Your fingers instinctively tightened around your cup before you forced yourself to relax, putting your phone down. The awkwardness between you was obvious.

He took a step closer, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket with a casual posture. “I wasn’t sure if I should say hi. I didn’t want to bother you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t the Caleb you remembered. He always carried himself with confidence, sometimes bordering on arrogance. But now… he seemed different. Softer.

“It’s fine,” you replied, clearing your throat. “It’s… been a while.”

“It has,” he agreed, the purple eyes you once adored scanned your face like he was memorising you all over again. “You look… happy.”

You shifted in your seat. “I am.”

A small, almost wistful smile tugged at his lips. “That’s good. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

The words landed heavily, leaving a strange warmth in your chest—guilt? Sadness? You weren’t sure.

Before you could respond, he gestured toward the chair across from you. “Do you mind if I sit? Just for a minute. I don’t want to make things weird, I just—” He exhaled softly, shaking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “I don’t know. Seeing you here gave me whiplash.”

The hesitation in his voice, the way he seemed almost vulnerable. It made it hard to say no.

“…Yeah, okay. Just for a minute.”

He sat down, hands clasped together on the table, eyes never leaving yours.

“So,” he started, offering a small smile, “tell me, what’s new?”

"Nothing much, just work and stuff," you said, offering a shrug as you took another sip from your coffee. You felt a little uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to make it obvious. He was just sitting there, quietly watching you, like he was soaking in every detail of your response.

“Ah, yeah, I get that. Work can really take over sometimes,” he replied, nodding sympathetically. “I’ve been keeping busy too. Just… trying to focus on myself, y’know?” 

You nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going. “That’s good. It’s important to focus on yourself.”

A quiet moment passed, and he cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking a lot about… things, y’know, since we last talked. I’ve had time to reflect, and I realised I probably could’ve done a lot better. With us.” His voice softened, almost vulnerable.

You felt a strange discomfort at his words, unsure how to respond. “I—I mean… we’re good now, right?” You paused, awkwardly fidgeting with the edge of your coffee cup. “It’s all in the past.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. There was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “Yeah, I know. I… I’ve been working on myself. I’ve changed, really. I just hope that…you’re doing okay.”

“I’m good. Really.” You forced a smile, trying to dismiss the flood of emotions that were slowly rising within you. “I’m happy. I’m in a good place.”

He nodded slowly, his lips curling into a small, almost bittersweet smile. “I’m glad. I just wanted you to know that I—” He paused, looking down at his hands, then back up at you. “I never stopped caring about you, y’know? I’ve always wanted what’s best for you.”

“Caleb…” you started, unsure how to respond, but your thoughts were jumbled. What was he saying? Was he genuinely apologising? 

“I know things ended badly, but I just… I wanted you to know that I’ve learned from all of it. From my mistakes. And I’m not asking for anything, but maybe, just maybe, we could start over as friends? Take things slow…?”

You bit your lip, feeling a sudden rush of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he had changed, but the other part of you… was still wary. You didn’t want to repeat past mistakes.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, glancing down at your cup, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s all of a—”

“Just think about it,” he interjected gently, his tone almost pleading. “I’m not asking for much, just… a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m different.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. For a moment, it felt like you were teetering on the edge of something you didn’t know if you were ready for. But Caleb, the version of him sitting across from you now, seemed almost like a stranger. Yet there was something familiar about his presence.

“I… I don’t know, Caleb,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need time.”

His face softened, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure as his words sank in. “Alright, I’ll think about it.”

Caleb let out a slow breath as if he had been holding it in, his lips curling into the softest smile. But it wasn’t just the smile—it was the way his eyes rounded slightly, a flicker of vulnerability creeping into his usually confident gaze.

“Really?” His voice was just a little too hopeful, like he wasn’t expecting you to even consider it. “You’ll think about it?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like the bad guy for making him wait. “I didn’t say yes,” you reminded him quickly, gripping your cup a little tighter. “I just… need time like I said.”

He nodded eagerly, that soft, almost puppy-like expression still in place. “Of course. I get it. Take all the time you need.” His fingers tapped lightly against the table before he let out a breathy chuckle. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

And just like that, the tension in your chest eased—only slightly, but enough to make you feel like maybe, maybe you had been too hard on him.

Caleb watched as you hesitated, the smallest flicker of indecision in your eyes. It was barely there, but he caught it, and inside, he was grinning. You were already bending, already second-guessing.

He pushed back his chair, standing with an effortless grace. “I should probably get going,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I didn’t mean to take up so much of your evening.”

You blinked. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”

He hesitated for just a second longer, then flashed you one last smile—the perfect mix of warmth and quiet longing. “I’ll be around,” he said, his voice soft, before making his way to the door.

As he stepped outside, the cool night air hitting his skin, he let his expression shift. His smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, triumphant. You had no idea, did you?

His plan was falling into place perfectly.

Step 1: Successful.

step 2: make her doubt herself and weaken her boundaries

highlight her ‘flaws’ even though shes already perfect

emphasise her independence a lot

buy wine and cook sweet and sour chicken with rice

stock up on apples

After the unexpected run-in with Caleb, you didn’t expect things to go anywhere, at least not like this. But somehow, things started feeling easy again between you two, like the months apart had melted away in the span of a few casual conversations. He always had that ability, didn’t he? He made everything feel natural and effortless, even though you knew it shouldn’t.

It was part of his charm, after all—the reason you’d fallen for him in the first place.

The invitation was where it all started. 

“You have to let me cook for you,” he insisted, flashing that easy grin. “You always loved my cooking. Just one meal, no pressure.”

And somehow, you found yourself here again.

His penthouse hadn’t changed at all since the last time you were here—same sleek, modern design, the ambient lighting casting a soft glow over the dark furniture. The air smelled warm and familiar, a mix of spices and something distinctly Caleb. You sat at the dining table, watching him move around the kitchen like a busy housewife. The soft sizzle of sweet and sour chicken filled the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly steamed rice.

He plated the food with the same care he always did, setting it in front of you before finally taking a seat beside you instead of across from you like he used to. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Go on,” he urged, nudging your spoon toward you.

You picked it up hesitantly and took a bite. The flavours burst on your tongue—sweet, tangy, and perfectly balanced. It reminded you of nights when this used to be normal. When Caleb would cook, you’d sit beside him, talking about everything and nothing.

“Still the best cook I know,” you admitted, offering a small smile.

He chuckled, nudging his knee against yours under the table. “I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”

He took a bite of his own, watching you carefully as you ate. Then, after a pause, his expression softened.

“You look tired.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He gestured subtly toward you. “Your eyes. A little duller than usual. And you’ve been rubbing your temples since you got here.”

You forced a laugh, setting your spoon down. “I guess I’ve been busy.”

He hummed, swirling his drink in his hand. “You always push yourself too hard. You used to do the same thing when we were together, remember?”

You tensed slightly. “I’ll manage.”

“I know you will,” he said smoothly. “You always do. But that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

You frowned, slightly offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to something softer—something that felt too close, too knowing. “You never let yourself slow down. Even when you’re exhausted, you just push through it.” He shook his head, smiling faintly. “You used to get those headaches from working too much, and you’d act like it was nothing until I made you stop and rest.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the table.

“I used to love that about you,” he continued, voice warm, laced with nostalgia. “How stubborn you are. How much you take on without ever asking for help.”

“I don’t need help,” you said, a little too quickly.

His lips barely twitched, as if he’d expected that answer. “I know.” He leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his drink. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

The warmth of the room suddenly felt heavier.

You forced another small laugh, reaching for your glass. “I’m fine, Caleb.”

He smiled, but there was something knowing in his eyes. “Of course.”

The conversation drifted to safer topics after that, but the weight of his words lingered. By the time you set your spoon down, you couldn’t shake the strange unease settling in your chest.

Maybe you were pushing yourself too hard. Maybe you weren’t as fine as you thought.

Maybe… Caleb wasn’t wrong.

He didn’t miss the way your spoon hovered slightly above your plate, how your eyes drifted just a little too long, lost in thought. The confident ease you had when you first arrived had faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

You were thinking about what he said.

A quiet satisfaction curled in his chest, but he didn’t press. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, nudging your knee again. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood,” he said lightly. “You got really quiet on me.”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. “Oh—sorry. I was just…thinking, I guess.”

His lips twitched. Perfect.

He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against his hand. “Heavy thoughts?”

You hesitated, then shrugged, forcing a small smile. “Maybe…I have been overworking myself a little.”

That was all he needed.

His expression softened, the perfect mix of concern and understanding. “See? That’s all I meant. I worry that’s all.” He exhaled, leaning back slightly. “You give so much of yourself to everything you do, but who’s making sure you don’t burn out?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You had friends, of course. People who cared. But… no one really checked in on you like that. Not in the way Caleb always had.

You shook your head as if physically trying to push the thought away. “I’ll manage,” you repeated.

Caleb let a small, knowing smile creep onto his lips before setting his drink down. 

Not for long.

A beat of silence settled before he suddenly stood, stretching slightly. “Why don’t I cut us some apples?” he said, already moving toward the kitchen. “I bought some fresh ones this morning. You’ll love them.”

You blinked at the sudden shift in topic. “Oh—um, you don’t have to.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “I want to.” His lips curved as he reached for a knife. “Besides, they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away, right?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re such a goof.”

Caleb smirked but didn’t respond as he started slicing. The rhythmic thunk of the blade against the cutting board filled the space, and you watched as he didn’t just cut the apples into simple wedges, he carved them into small bunny shapes.

Your brows lifted. “Are you seriously making bunny apples right now?”

He smirked, carefully peeling back the “ears” of one of the slices. “Obviously. What, you think I’d just give you a boring apple slice?”

You leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite yourself. “Since when do you know how to do that?”

Caleb shot you a knowing look as he set another bunny slice onto the plate. “I have my secrets.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He chuckled, finally returning to his seat beside you with the plate, setting it down between you both. The little apple bunnies were lined up neatly, their tiny “ears” perked up as if they were waiting to be eaten.

You stared at them, then at him. “I hate that this is actually kinda impressive.”

He grinned, picking one up for himself. “I accept your reluctant admiration.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you picked up an apple bunny and took a bite. It was crisp, sweet, and frustratingly perfect.

“See?” Caleb murmured, watching you with quiet satisfaction. “Worth the effort, right?”

You swallowed, shaking your head. “You’re so weird.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, nudging his knee against yours again. “Still eating my expertly crafted bunny apples.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. The playful exchange had lightened the air between you, momentarily softening your earlier hesitations.

And Caleb, watching the way your guard lowered just a little more, couldn’t help but smile.

Step 2? Already working.

step 3: make her depend on you

catch her lacking

secretly send the gym voucher in her mail

act natural 

comfort her when she vents

touch her and stay close to her 

It had been a week since Caleb’s words lodged themselves in your mind like an unwelcome guest. You give so much and don’t feel appreciated enough. You had brushed it off at the time, but the thought had lingered, creeping back in at moments you least expected.

That was probably why you were here now, in a gym of all places, desperate to burn off the frustration bubbling inside you, to drown out the noise in your head while your feet pounded against the treadmill.

Still, the fact that you ended up here felt like a weird coincidence. A few days ago, you received a gym voucher in the mail—an exclusive trial membership with an almost suspiciously good discount. You weren’t even sure how it ended up in your mailbox. You had never been the gym type, and you certainly hadn’t signed up for anything like this. But it was affordable, and after the week you had, it felt like a sign from the universe. (It wasn’t. It was Caleb)

Work had been exhausting. Again. Your boss barely acknowledged your input, and one particular smug bastard had conveniently taken full credit for your idea, flashing that self-satisfied grin like he’d done all the work.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. Your fingers hovered over the treadmill’s controls before you cranked up the speed. If only you could just run him over with a car and—

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

The familiar voice cut through the gym’s ambient noise, and for a second, your fingers twitched against the treadmill’s handles.

You turned your head, already bracing yourself and oh my god.

Caleb stood beside you, effortlessly leaning against the treadmill next to yours, a towel slung lazily around his neck, a water bottle in one hand. The athletic shorts highlighted the muscles in his legs, and his white workout shirt clung to his chest in a way that made you way too aware of how well he filled it out. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin told you he had been here for a while.

You forced yourself to look away. “Yeah, well… needed to clear my head.” You coughed, willing your pulse to settle.

He raised an eyebrow as he stepped onto the treadmill beside you, setting his pace to a casual jog. “Didn’t realize you went to the gym.”

You let out a short breath, still jogging. “Is that an insult?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Not at all. Just… surprised.” His eyes flicked toward your treadmill screen, tracking your speed. “Didn’t peg you as the intense type.”

You scoffed, wiping a stray strand of hair from your face. “Well, maybe you’re not the only one who’s changed.”

He hummed, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

He didn’t need to say more. The seed was already planted.

Caleb kept pace beside you, his breathing even and movements effortless. It was infuriating how easily he made it look like he wasn’t even trying. Meanwhile, you were actively fighting the urge to focus on the burning in your legs, determined not to let him see you struggle.

“So,” he started, voice smooth and casual, “bad day at work?”

You exhaled sharply. “Something like that.”

“Let me guess,” he mused, glancing at you. “Your boss ignored your input again, and some asshole took credit for your idea?”

Your steps faltered just slightly before you caught yourself. “How—”

Caleb let out a chuckle. “You always get this look when you’re pissed about work. It’s subtle, but I’ve seen it before.”

You frowned, not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. “Right. Forgot you were a human lie detector or whatever.”

“Not a lie detector,” he corrected, his smirk deepening. “Just really good at reading you.”

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong. Caleb had always known how to read you, sometimes even before you could fully process your own emotions. He had a way of catching onto things, of noticing the smallest shifts in your mood. It used to be comforting. Now, it felt a little dangerous.

You swallowed, fixing your gaze ahead. “Well, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Of course,” he said easily. “You’re strong. Always have been.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, throwing off your rhythm for half a second. You recovered quickly, but not before Caleb noticed.

His smirk softened. “But even strong people get tired.”

Your grip tightened on the treadmill handles. Damn it. You hated how easily his words seeped under your skin, how they poked at the very thing you’d been trying to suppress all day.

“So what?” you said, forcing a lightness into your tone. “You think I need a pep talk?”

Caleb’s eyes never left you. “I think you need a reminder that you don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

Your breath hitched. 

For a moment, you didn’t respond, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of your feet against the treadmill. It was easier than acknowledging the warmth creeping up your spine, the way his words sat heavy in your chest.

This was exactly what you didn’t need.

The problem with Caleb was that he made things sound so simple. He made it so easy to forget why you left, why you needed space. He said the right things, knew which buttons to press, and worst of all, he still made you feel.

And that? That was a risk you weren’t sure you could afford.

You let out a breath, slowing your pace slightly. “Well, thanks for the unsolicited wisdom, Dr. Phil.”

Caleb chuckled, shaking his head. “Anytime.”

A silence settled between you, not quite uncomfortable but charged with something you refuse to acknowledge.

Caleb then stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. “Y’know, since you’re new here, I could show you around. Make sure you don’t, I don’t know, drop a weight on your foot or something.”

You shot him a dry look. “Wow, so much faith in me.”

“Just looking out for you,” he said, that damn smirk back in place. “Like I always have.”

And there it was again—that reminder. That thread of familiarity, of us, woven so seamlessly into his words.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

And Caleb saw it, felt it.

He wasn’t in a rush. This was all part of the game.

So when you finally sighed and mumbled, “Fine. But no unsolicited advice,” he just grinned.

Step 3 was right on track.

– 

You come back from the gym feeling drained and your muscles aching. Caleb had taken it upon himself to train you after the tour, just the basics, he said, nothing too serious, he said. But the way his hands lingered, the way his voice dropped lower every time he corrected your form, sent a slow-burning heat through you that had nothing to do with exercise.

"You’re tensing up too much. Relax…there you go."

You dragged a hand through your hair, exhaling. It was just adrenaline. 

But when you closed your eyes, all you could think about was the way his fingers skimmed your sides, the quiet hum of his approval when you finally got the movement right. The way his eyes had looked at you.

"Good girl. Just like that."

Fuck it.

Now, alone in your bedroom, you collapsed onto your bed, chest rising and falling, but the tension in your body hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled deep, persistent, and impossible to ignore.

You dragged your gym shirt over your head, tossing it aside, but the heat clinging to your skin didn’t dissipate. Your body still burned with something you refused to name, something that pulsed between your thighs with every replayed memory of his touch.

Your hand trailed up, fingers skimming over your sports bra and squeezing the swell of your breast. A small sigh escaped you as your other hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. The moment your fingers brushed against your clit, a soft gasp left your lips.

Your body was already so sensitive, so needy, and the more you teased yourself, the worse it got. Every stroke sent another wave of heat pooling in your belly, and in your mind, it wasn’t your own fingers—it was his.

You could almost hear him. That low, amused chuckle, the way his breath would fan against your ear as he murmured, "Look at you, already so desperate for me."

You kicked off your shorts and underwear, your movements impatient, your body aching for more. Reaching for a pillow, you slid it between your thighs, pressing down as you began to move, grinding against it, and each roll of your hips sending sharp pleasure through you.

Your back arched as you picked up the pace, riding the pillow as if it were his cock, panting softly as you clutched at your breasts, pinching your nipples. Your mind painted the image so vividly, Caleb beneath you, his hands gripping your hips, watching you fall apart on top of him.

"That’s it, baby. Just like that."

A needy whimper escaped your lips as you buried your face into the sheets, fingers tugging at your hardened nipples, pretending it was his mouth teasing you, his tongue flicking and sucking until you were squirming.

Meanwhile, across Skyhaven.

Caleb ran a towel through his damp hair as he stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around him. The gym session had gone even better than he planned. He could see it, the way your breath hitched, the way your body tensed under his hands. You were already slipping, already wavering. He also made a mental note about that bastard at your workplace, promising himself he’d handle him soon. But for now, he needed to clear his head.

With a sigh, he tossed the towel over his shoulder, water droplets rolling down his chest as he made his way through the penthouse. He hadn’t even planned on stopping by his office, just a quick glance at the screens, a habit more than anything.

But then he saw it.

His feet stilled at the doorway, his gaze locking onto the upper-right monitor. His office, lined with walls of screens, glowed softly in the dim lighting. Each feed displayed different angles of your apartment, and on one particular screen made his breath hitch.

There you were, back in your bedroom, stripped down, thighs straddling a pillow as you rocked against it, your brows furrowed in desperate pleasure.

Caleb's grip on the towel tightened, his body instantly reacting.

"Caleb…"

His restraint snapped.

His hand palmed over the towel, groaning low in his throat. Fuck. You were thinking about him. Even when he wasn’t touching you, even when he was taking his time, you still belonged to him.

Looks like he could skip Step 4. It was time for the final move.

final step: coaxing her back

You wanted to slap yourself. Who in their right mind gets off thinking about their ex?

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push the thought away, Caleb had begun to crawl into every corner of your mind. It was like a spell had been cast, wrapping around you and pulling you under.

The night had started with rain, thick sheets of it pouring down as you walked home, the soft patter against your umbrella the only sound accompanying you. You kicked at the puddles absently, trying to focus on anything other than the memories clawing their way back to the surface.

Then, headlights cut through the downpour. A sleek black Lamborghini Lanzador slowed beside you, its engine a deep and familiar purr. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Caleb behind the wheel—one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting against his temple as he watched you with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“You seriously weren’t going to call me for a ride?” His voice was warm and teasing.

You hesitated. “I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think,” he echoed, shaking his head before unlocking the door. “Get in before you drown, pipsqueak.”

You scowled, shutting your umbrella with a sharp snap before getting in. “I hate it when you call me that.”

He only smirked.

The door clicked shut behind you, and before you even finished buckling your seatbelt, Caleb pulled back onto the road. The rain drummed softly against the windows, the warmth inside the car doing little to ease the tension winding tight in your chest.

“Seriously, stop calling me that,” you muttered, arms crossed.

Caleb glanced at you, the corners of his lips twitching. “What? Pipsqueak?”

Your jaw clenched. “Yes, that.”

He chuckled, effortlessly changing gears. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because it’s condescending,” you shot back. “Like I’m some kid.”

He smirked. “I don’t think you’re a kid.”

“Then why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Because it gets under your skin,” he admitted without hesitation. “And because you make the cutest face when you’re annoyed.”

You glared. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but… you had nothing. He wasn’t wrong. You were here. Despite every reason you had to keep your distance, despite all the time and space and unspoken things lingering between you, you still got into his car.

Caleb must have sensed the shift in your silence because his smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, something almost hesitant.

“I mean it, though,” he said, his voice softer. “I don’t call you that to belittle you.”

You turned your head, studying his face, searching for the usual mischief—but there was none.

“Then why?” you asked, wary.

His fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel before he exhaled. “Because it reminds me of before.”

Your stomach twisted.

Before.

Your frustration boiled over, heat rising to your cheeks. Without thinking, you reached for the door handle, fingers wrapping around it with the full intention of getting out—moving car be damned.

Caleb’s sharp gaze flicked to you instantly. “Don’t even think about it.”

You shot him a look, jaw tight. “Then stop the car.”

He didn’t. Instead, he pressed a button on the console, and with a soft click, the doors locked. 

You froze, snapping your head toward him. “Are you serious?”

He exhaled through his nose, eyes back on the road. “Dead serious.”

Your jaw clenched. “Let me out.”

“Not when we’re going 60 on a wet road.”

You huffed, shifting in your seat, nails digging into your palms. “Unbelievable.”

Caleb sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence.

Then, instead of pulling up to your place, Caleb eased the car to a stop in front of a café. You blinked, frowning as you looked out the window. The familiar glow of the storefront sign illuminated the street, reflecting off the slick pavement.

Your fingers tightened around the door handle before you turned to him.

“Why are we here?”

Caleb leaned back, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “What do you mean?”

You shot him a look. “You picked me up in the rain. I thought you were taking me home.”

His smirk returned. “I was. Then I figured we could use a detour.”

“A detour?” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Caleb, it’s late. And I’m tired.”

His smirk didn’t waver, but something softened in his gaze. “I know. But it’s been a while since we did this.”

You hesitated. The café was familiar—your spot, our spot, once. You hadn’t been back since everything ended.

“You could’ve just taken me home,” you murmured.

“I could have,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But you would’ve shut the door in my face the second we got there.”

Your jaw tightened. “…You don’t know that.”

He arched his brow. “I do.”

You wanted to argue. You really did. But the truth of it settled uncomfortably in your chest. He did know you. Even after everything. And worse, you knew he was probably right.

Caleb studied you for a beat before his expression softened further. “The coffee’s on me,” he added lightly. “You can even get any pastry you like.”

The rain had softened to a steady drizzle by the time Caleb shut off the engine.

You stared at the café through the windshield, its warm glow spilling onto the wet pavement.

This was a mistake.

You should’ve said no. Should’ve insisted he take you home, unbuckled your seatbelt, and walked away without looking back.

Yet, you sat there, gripping your sleeve, hesitating.

Caleb sighed, then suddenly leaned over, reaching past you.

You tensed. “What are you—”

The click of your door unlocking cut you off, and before you could react, Caleb was stepping out into the rain. Your brows furrowed. Was he just going to walk around and open the door for you?

But then he lifted his hand.

The air around you shifted, and a barely visible barrier shimmered to life above the car. The rain that had been pouring relentlessly now slid off an invisible shield, leaving you completely untouched.

You blinked before scoffing. “Must be nice having an Evol.”

Caleb smirked, opening your door. “Jealous?”

“A little,” you admitted, stepping out carefully, the space between you suddenly feeling too small. “Would’ve saved me from carrying an umbrella everywhere.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Or from getting caught in the rain in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t comment. The sidewalk was slick, puddles reflecting the glow of streetlights. The air smelled like damp pavement and coffee, the warmth of the café just a few steps away.

When you guys reached the entrance, Caleb lowered his hand, and the shield dissolved like it had never been there. He pulled open the door and gestured for you to step inside.

You hesitated for only a second before walking past him, the scent of coffee and nostalgia wrapping around you like a ghost.

 “Guess not much has changed.”

Your throat tightened. “No.”

The barista, Lily, behind the counter, looked up, recognition flashing across her face. She hadn’t seen you in months—not since everything ended—but she still remembered.

“Hey,” she greeted with a small smile. “It’s been a while.”

Caleb smirked. “Yeah. Thought I’d bring her back.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist, but you ignored it, turning your attention to the menu overhead, as if you didn’t already know what you wanted.

Caleb leaned in slightly. “Still take it the same way?”

You shot him a look. “Why do you care?”

His lips twitched. “Humor me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah.”

Caleb turned to the barista. “Two of those, and she’ll also take…” He looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “A blueberry scone.”

He smirked. “She’ll take a blueberry scone.”

The barista rang up the order, and before you could reach for your wallet, Caleb was already sliding his card into the reader.

You narrowed your eyes. “I could’ve paid.”

“I know.” He grabbed the receipt. “But I said it was on me.”

You huffed but didn’t push further, taking the coffee when he handed it to you.

The café wasn’t crowded, just a few people scattered at tables, lost in their own conversations. It would’ve been so easy to pretend this was just another night, just another casual outing—

But it wasn’t.

Caleb nudged your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. “Come on.”

He led you to a table in the corner. Your table.

The moment you sat down, an uneasy weight settled in your chest. You traced the rim of your coffee cup, the steam curling between you. Across from you, Caleb leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lazily against the table.

“You’re quiet,” he noted.

You met his gaze. “I have nothing to say.”

His lips twitched. “That’s a first.”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth ground you. But it didn’t stop the thoughts circling your mind.

Why did he bring you here?

Why now?

Why does it still feel easy with him?

“You’re thinking too much.”

Your fingers stilled around your coffee cup. “And you’re still assuming you know what I’m thinking.”

He smirked. “I don’t assume. I know.”

You scoffed, leaning back against your chair. “Enlighten me, then.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you the way he always had—like he was peeling back layers, reading between every breath, every hesitation. “You’re trying to figure out why we’re here. Why I didn’t just take you home.”

Your grip on the cup tightened.

Caleb took a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You exhaled sharply, placing your cup down a little too firmly. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Sit there all smug like you still know me.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Do I not?”

You hesitated.

He was baiting you, as he always did. And the worst part? He was right. He did know you. Knew you well enough to bring you here, to order your drink exactly the way you liked it, to pick up on your hesitation before you even voiced it.

And yet, that only frustrated you more.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “You should’ve just taken me home.”

Caleb hummed, taking another sip of his coffee before setting it down. “I know.” He leaned back, eyes never leaving yours. “But I wanted to talk to you first.”

Your stomach twisted.

There it was.

The thing you had been waiting for—the reason you were here.

You swallowed. “About what?”

His gaze softened just slightly, the amusement in his eyes giving way to something quieter.

“You.” His voice was steady, deliberate. “Me.”

Your fingers curled around your cup. Careful.

Caleb didn’t look away. “Whatever this is—whatever it’s always been.”

Your breath hitched. You let out a quiet scoff, breaking eye contact. “There’s nothing anymore.”

He was silent for a moment, just watching you. Then, as if weighing his words, he exhaled. “Do you really believe that?”

You didn’t answer right away.

“I have to,” you finally said, voice quieter now.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Then why are you here?”

You stiffened. “You brought me here.”

He shook his head once. “You could’ve said no.”

Your gaze snapped to his. “You make it sound like I had a choice.”

His lips curved slightly, though there was no amusement behind them. “You always have a choice.”

The weight of his words settled between you, thick and suffocating. The café buzzed with quiet chatter around you, but none of it reached your ears.

Finally, you inhaled sharply. “What do you want from me, Caleb?”

His fingers tapped absently against his cup as if considering his answer. But when he finally spoke, it was quiet. Certain.

“I want you to come back.”

Your breath stalled.

A dry laugh escaped you. “Back? Back to what, exactly?”

He didn’t hesitate. “To me.”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “You can’t just say that like it’s simple.”

“I never said it was simple,” he admitted. “But it’s the truth.”

You looked away, pulse hammering in your throat. “It’s too late.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Is it?”

You hated the way he said it—like he already knew the answer. Like he could see right through every flimsy excuse you were trying to hold onto.

Your fingers tightened around your cup. “You don’t get to show up and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

His voice was steady. “That’s not what I expect.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Then what do you expect?”

A pause.

“I expect you to be honest with yourself.”

You hated the way your stomach twisted at his words. The way something deep inside you lurched forward despite every wall you had built.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “This is a mistake.”

Caleb held your gaze. “Maybe. But it’s ours to make.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel it—the pull, the weight of something inevitable pressing down on you. Every logical part of you screamed to shut this down.

But it was already too late, wasn’t it?

Your grip on the cup loosened, your resolve crumbling piece by piece. Then, finally, exhaustedly, you sighed.

“…Fine.”

Caleb didn’t rush it.

He let the silence settle, let the weight of your surrender sink in. The moment you said “Fine,” he knew it was over—you had already lost, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

Leaning back in his chair, he took his time, watching you with that same knowing look, fingers drumming lazily against his coffee cup. You were trying so hard to act unaffected, eyes locked on the table, but your grip on the ceramic was tense.

You were waiting—for what, exactly? The regret? The anger? The second thoughts?

None of it came.

Caleb exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. You always made this harder than it needed to be.

Without another word, he pushed back his chair, the legs scraping softly against the floor. Your shoulders tensed as he stood, rounding the table with slow, deliberate steps.

Not stopping. Not hesitating.

He moved in, closing the space between you, his presence overwhelming as he braced one hand on the back of your chair, the other resting against the table. His body caged you in, shielding you from the rest of the café, from the world beyond this moment.

You sucked in a sharp breath.

Trapped.

His scent washed over you, pulling you under like a riptide. The heat of him, the sheer certainty in his movements, sent your pulse into chaos.

“Say it again,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“That you’re staying.”

You swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at you to push him away. To fight.

But you didn’t.

Your lips parted, barely forming his name. “Caleb—”

That was all he needed.

His fingers brushed along your jaw before tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was slow and deliberate, but there was nothing soft about it. His grip was firm, possessive.

Like he was claiming you.

“You don’t regret this,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper, right before his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful.

It was deep, demanding—a possession.

Caleb kissed you like he was proving something, like he was erasing every ounce of distance you had tried to put between you. His lips moved against yours with precision, drawing you in and breaking down every last barrier you had left.

Then his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing, teasing, taking.

The taste of coffee and something purely him flooded your senses, dizzying and intoxicating. He was relentless, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, drawing out a soft gasp that he swallowed like he owned it.

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you feel it to remind you that there was no escaping this, no running from him or this pull.

And you—God, you kissed him back.

It was your undoing.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, gripping it tight, like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. His other hand slid to the nape of your neck, holding you there, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The café, the hushed conversations, the rest of the world—gone.

There was no fight left in you. No walls.

Only him. Only Caleb.

When he finally pulled back, lips barely brushing against yours, his breath was uneven, his voice thick with something raw, unspoken.

“Knew you wouldn’t leave.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, lips parted, breath stolen.

And then he saw it.

That flicker in your expression—not defiance, not reluctance.

Surrender.

Your grip on his hoodie loosened slightly, but you didn’t push him away. Your lashes fluttered, your gaze flickering to his lips for just a second too long, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

Caleb’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. His thumb traced along your jaw, a silent I won.

Because he had.

Checkmate.

[glitch-but-ya]

SILKEN CHAINS.

PAIRING: Yandere!Caleb x Psychotherapist!Reader CW: SFW but MATURE, manipulation, yandere, obsessive/possessive/controlling behaviour, grotesque descriptions, descriptions of gore, suicide, implied murder, stalking, trauma, mental illness, just a heavy fic in general, mild swearing, Fem!Reader. SUMMARY: When her childhood friend spirals into a paradox of obsession and madness, who could mend his fractured mind better than her? Utilizing her years of expertise, she is determined to bring him back. But can one play with fire without scorching their skin? Can she unravel his mind before he devours hers? WORD COUNT: 31k words. DISCLAIMER: Although you are free to view this as dead dove or dark romance, I am not romanticising such behaviour. I'm simply telling a dark story for the sake of telling a dark story. This is merely a psychological thriller written for the fun of it. Heavy content ahead, be warned. A/N: Helloo!! Sorry for being super inactive!! I hit a writing slump and when I’d recovered from it, I started this fic (or, more accurately, I started writing this fic in order to flee from writer’s block.) I wanted to work on my other sylus fic but I kept mixing the character’s personalities up. I’m usually great at multitasking but not when it comes to writing it seems. I had exams, my mother got sick halfway through ramadan, I was fasting and constantly exhausted, and yeah. (Yes, I am Muslim!) Anyways, the idea for this fic was something akin to a shower thought. I changed my writing style a bit. Basically went from uhh poetic(?) to more mordern. So I don’t know how I did. Any criticism or feedback is appreciated!!

He was always like this, wasn’t he?

You twirled your pen between your fingers as you glared out the open window into the faces of buildings looming high. A warm westerly breeze wafted through the opening, swirling the bittersweet scent of coffee throughout the room. A long, white couch sat at the other end of yours, bearing a small, fresh dent on its right corner—left by the last patient of the day. That decade-old piece of furniture had been in your office for as long as you could recall. It had shouldered the weight of various troubled souls who would rush to you at the first hint of distress. They would barge in, plop themselves down on the exact same side of the sofa, and pour their worries out.

For hours, you would sit still with a notebook in your hands, gazing out that very same window as if your ears had not caught a word. And once they’d stop, you would turn to them with a smile.

“I see. Well, let’s start from the beginning.”

Many came with a burdened frown, and all left with their heads lifted high. That was the quality of your service—the merit of having abandoned the role of a renowned criminologist to settle for a mere clinical psychotherapist. It was a far more peaceful life, where you only needed to contend with the usual afflictions of mental health. You’d say it suited you better. It was far kinder to your body and soul to study the boundaries of the mind rather than the savagery of crime. Because if you were truly competent enough to retain your position as a criminologist, you would have noticed sooner, wouldn’t you?

Your pen stilled in your hand.

You had studied the faces of many. Cheaters, narcissists, the apathetic, the antisocial—you had seen it all and more. During your brief tenure as a criminologist, you had worked with the most wretched criminals. A deranged, delusional son who had donned the skin of his mother shortly after gutting her alive, a schizophrenic woman who had splattered her husband’s brains across her grotesque painting, and countless men and women who displayed heightened symptoms of obsessive and abusive behaviour towards their partners.

And yet, you missed it.

There was a saying that we normalise the odd behaviour of those closest to us to such an extent that their misdoings and concerning actions fly off our radar without a hitch. Our paths were so intertwined with theirs that we saw no reason to stop and ponder—Hey, could this be a sign of mental illness?

You supposed you had fallen into the same dilemma. He had sat before you your entire life—from adolescence to the moment higher education set you apart, he had always been there. Even as you pursued your double majors, Caleb’s botched mental evaluation exam had not raised any red flags in your mind.

“Oh, it’s a flawed test. You of all people should know that someone’s mental health can’t be determined by a simple questionnaire.”

And regrettably, you believed him. He made a good point, after all. A simple questionnaire said nothing about someone’s true psyche.

But still, you regretted not questioning—Is it even possible to fail so miserably?

You should have checked his answers. Such an oversight had cost you the surprise of finding out in... such a way. And now that you looked back and reevaluated your interactions with him, the markers became clear.

“The people that want to hurt you? They should all just—” his gaze burned through your skull, “—disappear.”

“I don’t need your protection. I’m fine on my own.”

He scoffed, eyes brimming with betrayal.

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?”

Your lips trembled as you sank deeper into the plush of the couch, forced down by his presence. With one arm, he caged you between his body and the cushions.

“Alright, what do you want? You can tell me.”

You knocked his forearm weakly. “Caleb, calm down—”

“We can return to Linkon if that’s what you want. We’ll rebuild our old house. And if one house isn’t enough, I’ll build you a whole maze.”

Like a fish out of water, you thrashed about, only to still once realisation dawned on you—

He was speaking to you with unfiltered, bare words. There would not be another chance like this. Now was the perfect time to capitalise on his raw and vulnerable state.

You pursed your lips. Caleb’s finger trailed across your jaw.

“I’ll decorate it with whatever you want. It will be the most stunning garden you’ve ever seen.”

You emptied your gaze, donning the familiar facade of a professional, objective psychotherapist. You scrutinised him as he spoke. You picked up on the subtle crack of his voice, the tears threatening to form, the gentle firmness of his grip. This was him—the true, raw him. How could you not have noticed sooner?

In hindsight, the signs were present. Possessiveness, obsession, strategic control—traits you would have easily identified in a client. He thought of himself as clever. And he was right. To the general public, Caleb was beyond cunning. A force to be reckoned with.

But you had seen worse. You had dissected minds far more twisted than his. You were confident in your abilities—you could unravel him, strip him bare once more, and deliver the final blow with cautious precision. Patients often believed themselves to be indecipherable, an enigma buried in the sands of time.

Yet they forgot that doctors such as yourself had wasted half their lives preparing for them. No matter how savage or twisted one may be, you were trained to make people collapse at the slightest pull of their heartstrings.

The only reason behind your incompetence had been simple—familiarity breeds blind spots, and Caleb was all too familiar to you. You regretted not having picked up on it sooner. Now, all your analyses pointed to the same result. He was severely disturbed and in urgent need of therapeutic intervention.

And who was more qualified to deliver just that than you?

This was what you had studied for, was it not? With your combined expertise in both psychology and criminology, you could corner Caleb into spilling his woes. You could fix him. He thought himself untouchable, but you had spent years preparing for men like him.

You tilted your head and glanced at the brightly coloured strip of paper sitting atop your desk. Tickets. To Skyhaven. You could finally see him.

You smiled. How long had it been? A couple of months, perhaps? Since your last visit to Skyhaven, Caleb had not hesitated to check up on you daily. As if unbothered by your reluctance to respond, he left small texts floating in your inbox. Simple formalities—How are you feeling? Have you eaten well?—all left on read. You could practically see the fireworks erupt in his violet eyes the moment you finally responded—

“I’m coming over tomorrow. Do you mind?”

Like an overjoyed pup granted his favourite treat, he swarmed your chat with various emoticons. ‘Are you on vacation? :0’ ‘When are you coming?’ ‘Should I make dinner?’

Despite your best efforts at denial, you couldn’t shake the flutter in your chest at his care and enthusiasm.

If only he had remained the same.

If only he were the boy you once knew, you wouldn’t have to resort to such measures.

Your pulse quickened as your fingers brushed across the ticket’s surface.

You were really doing this, weren’t you? Playing with fire, confident in your eventual triumph. In your field, patience was key.

You would untangle him thread by thread. And when he collapsed, you could embrace him once more. Not as a cruel, restrictive monster, but as the warm boy you had always known.

It was only a matter of time.

“Please stand clear of the doors,” a robotic female voice buzzed. “Next stop, Skyhaven.”

You planted yourself against the hard plastic chairs, clutching a phone that idled on a conversation.

“I’m on the train.” “I’ll be there to pick you up :D”

You stuffed your phone back into your bag. With a loud whir, the train began to move. Your body swayed to the side as it accelerated, pressing you against a metal pole. In just a few hours, you would reach Skyhaven. And he would be there, waiting for you with that big grin plastered across his face—the grin that once lifted you off your feet, whose irony you had now begun to despise. It was the very same expression that would trick the masses.

Girls lined up against high school lockers would swoon over it. But what they didn’t know was that his radiant smile was merely a distraction meant to deter them from the way his eyes, no matter what obstruction emerged before him, would always be locked on you. His warm violet hues would burn through your skull as you led him through the hallways, chatting away obliviously. Back then, you had shrugged it off. He was just expressing care, you thought. You were afraid of crowds back then. He was just looking out for you. It was in your best interest, right? If only you had known.

You should have questioned. You should have known better.

But your high school days were well behind you. What stood now were two matured adults with a strained relationship, engaged in a ruthless game of chess—a game he did not yet realise he was a participant in.

But that only gave you the upper hand. When dealing with patients who would exploit your vulnerability and love for them, having a head start was almost a necessity. Sure, you were certain you’d come out on top eventually. But your work had taught you to tread gingerly nonetheless. When navigating the confines of a person’s mind, every micromovement of yours could cause the whole structure to crumble. No matter how accomplished a psychotherapist is, they are bound to experience massive turbulence in the field of their work.

And you had come prepared accordingly.

You reached into your bag to retrieve a worn, leather-backed journal. It had no labels. Only a brown, thick covering with a matching strap. A blue strip with a metal piece on its end hung loosely from the bottom. It was a bookmark. Old, worn—the fabric of the strip had gone dirty. It was stained with splotches of brown, with an array of torn threads poking out from a corner.

You turned to the first page. It was dated three years ago.

You swiftly flipped through the rest of the pages until you landed on nothing. Somewhere around the middle of the journal, there was a cluster of blank pages stapled together. With a moment of reconciliation, you thumbed through the stapled pages.

Harrison Roan.

A small smile graced your lips. You had, in fact, snatched the correct one before departing.

You traced your hurried handwriting, skimming over the words. You stopped at the small paragraph below the margin—the ‘final comment’.

Patient remains evasive and reluctant to engage in cooperative dialogue. He exhibits obsessive tendencies when discussing his partner, demonstrating patterns of control consistent with Machiavellian protection. His behaviour suggests a state of limerence, accompanied by coercive control over his loved ones. Obsessive-compulsive personality traits are observed, raising suspicion of OCPD. Therapy is recommended for further evaluation and intervention.

Back during your time at the Linkon Criminal Psychiatric Facility, you were assigned as Harrison’s primary psychotherapist. He was accused of abducting and imprisoning his lover, Anne Lotte. Anne underwent severe emotional abuse and manipulation. For a short period of three months, you were assigned to her as well. But before you could make any progress, she had thrown herself off the facility’s roof.

It was devastating, the state you found her in. Anne’s mind was completely mangled. There was a dark fog clouding her conscience. You doubted even a piercing sharp beam of light could pass through to her. She was unresponsive, silent, rendered dead; almost as if her mind had gone senile. Her situation filled you with revulsion. Ten years of imprisonment and psychological torture could destroy one’s psyche so brutally that even after they had regained their freedom, the light of hope would fail to reach their eyes.

You refused to be a victim of the same tragedy, and you refused to let Caleb walk the same path of insanity. Beyond all, you loved him. You wouldn’t leave him be and watch as he slowly abolished himself. You would not let the same tragedy occur once more. And perhaps Harrison’s case was the key. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from here.

“Skyhaven. Doors will open from the left.”

You shut your journal and lazily shoved it back into the depths of your bag. A flock of passengers stood, ready to hurl themselves out the moment the door slid open. You recoiled in your seat with a sigh. You’d just go once the crowd had dimmed.

Placing your chin in your hand, you looked out the window and peered through the crowds, fishing for Caleb. Your pulse fluttered as you saw him stare back at you with that signature smile of his—boyish, handsome… eerie. A chill shot up your spine. There was something about this ‘new’ him you could not explain. Something you couldn’t wrap your head around.

Something that frightened you.

You beamed through the glass, the brightest smile you could muster, and raised your palm to wave at him feverishly. Collecting your belongings in a frenzy, you rushed out the door, only to be met by the solid wall of his chest.

“Oof—” You rubbed your forehead. The man before you broke into a fit of gentle laughter and ruffled the top of your head. “Were you that excited to see me?”

You shot him a sheepish smile. He returned your gesture.

“Here, let me help with those.” He hoisted one of your bags over his shoulder and beckoned for you to follow. You took after him shortly after, skipping over to him with glee.

“Soo… why the sudden visit?” Caleb mused. You raised your head to look him in the eye. “I got a vacation, and…”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And?”

“There are… never mind. Can I tell you once we’re alone?” You could feel the way his heartbeat hastened without needing to touch him. It made your stomach knot in retaliation.

“Alright. Sounds good.”

The two of you hauled your way to the car. Before you could nestle yourself in the spacious backseat, he rushed in front of you to swing open the door to the passenger seat. He gestured for you.

Your eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh?”

“The finest service from yours truly.”

Damnit, that smooth imbecile.

Defeated (yet not yielding), you slid into the passenger seat and waited as he loaded your luggage into the trunk of the car. Once sure nobody was looking, you pried open your bag and inspected the journal inside. Phew. You hadn’t abandoned it on the train.

“Forget something?” You jumped. Your head whipped to the head peeking in from the crack of the car door. A shudder crept up your spine at the empty expression plastered on his face and the way his eyes gave away nothing. The grin was absent from his lips. With lingering unease, you forced your muscles to relax. “I just thought I left my phone behind.”

The warmth returned to his gaze. “Sorry for scarin’ ya.” He ruffled your hair affectionately. You shook your head. “No, it’s fine.”

The drive was quiet, with you engulfed in your paranoia regarding whether or not you should say what you’d sworn to tell Caleb, and him consumed by God-knows-what. The way he fixed his gaze on the road up ahead, not once looking back or giving you a sliver of his attention, perplexed you. What was he so invested in?

“So,” Caleb started, snapping you out of your domain of thought, “What were you gonna say?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and forced yourself to don a neutral tone. “I wanted to…” Fingers deftly played with the hem of your shirt. “Fix things.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Between us. Because, you know.”

The world stilled. You subconsciously hugged your bag tighter against yourself, anticipating all sorts of responses he could give. Would he stay silent? No. Not his style. He would…

Caleb smiled. “So, you want to start over?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Can’t say for sure whether I can be the Caleb you want.”

An opening.

You mustered the kindest simper you could and shook your head. “I was thinking… rather than rebuilding our past, we try and make peace with the new versions of each other.”

There was silence. And then, a glint in his eye. His shoulders slumped against the leather seat. The weight dimmed from the air, leaving only a soothing quietude—the calm after the storm had passed. It was almost like the old days.

Almost.

“Sounds good to me.” His mask returned. Contrary to his words, this version of Caleb was unfeeling. Even now, he refused to let you in. He blocked you out with that fire—that crackling lukewarm grin, that blazing radiance he bore. Warm like the sun, and just as deadly as it, and almost impenetrable.

But you could see the cracks that ran through that frigid surface. Earth crumbles fast. And no matter how sturdy the soil, the right amount of water could dampen it just enough for you to dig through.

You would reach him. You were sure. And you would save him just as you should’ve saved yourself.

Caleb helped you unload in front of his house, reaching the bags faster than you could and hauling them over his shoulder before you could protest. Admittedly, it was these small gestures of fondness that allured you to him in the first place. A trap, you thought. Only a front to mask his true twisted nature.

“Are you gonna conquer my room again?” he teased. You stopped in your tracks, turning to scrutinize all the barren rooms. A thought arose, one you desperately tried to shove to the back of your brain. Had you let your fear of him affect you so much that you would begin to lose your mind over the simple choice of rooms?

You took a deep breath and raised your finger, pointing at his room. You looked at him and grinned. “Why not? Your bed is the comfiest.”

Caleb would fall for it, wouldn’t he? The thought of you inhaling his scent, residing where he did—it was far too intimate for his mind to fathom. And the privilege of having your scent rubbed all across his bedsheets, in his balcony, in the mugs you used and the plates you discarded; you were making an offer a lovesick mind like his could not refuse.

You rejoiced internally at the sight of his face. The widening of his eyes, the contraction of his pupils, the subtle twitch of his lips—something awoke in him. Something fearful—a horned monster with gleaming red eyes clutched his heart. It was your indication that you’d won.

“Alright, alright,” Caleb mused. “Whatever the lady wants, she shall get.”

And with that, you successfully seized his room.

They say that one’s room is a reflection of one’s mind. They being you, of course, alongside a few other studies that emerged following the publication of your own. A great deal can be discerned from the mere face of a room—the way its occupant arranges their bedsheets, the colours they favour, the state everything is in, the organisation of furniture and possessions, the things they treasure enough to keep within these walls. From mental state to relationship status, all could be dissected from a single glance at a room and its arrangement.

You didn’t believe Caleb foolish enough to leave incriminating evidence strewn about. If anything had been there, he would have tidied up days before you set foot in Skyhaven. He preferred to keep details of his field of work discreet. You assumed it stemmed from an unwillingness to "corrupt" what he held sacred—sacralisation, perhaps? Disturbing when done to a human, yet not uncommon. You had encountered such cases before, and no matter how many you worked on, each left a familiar sinking feeling in your gut.

Knowing that, you never expected to find anything concrete in his room. But that wasn’t your intention.

You unpacked, arranging your belongings on the bed. Your journal rested on his desk. Of course, there was a risk in choosing to stay here. If you left your journal lying about and he happened to enter on a whim (which he had every right to; it was his room, after all), you would be exposed almost instantly. What excuse could you offer for analysing patients from three years ago, especially while on holiday? Worse, if his eyes caught the blue thread marking the pages where you had written about Harrison, he would connect the dots at once. What would he do then? Banish you? Grow cold? Or something worse?

You didn’t want to think about it.

Regardless, it was a risk you were willing to take. Consequences only existed if you faltered first. You were far more interested in what his room revealed about his mental state. Was it irrefutable evidence? No. But you weren’t on duty. This was a personal investigation—here, proof could be as subjective as you pleased. The only jury was yourself.

The bed was impeccably made, yet a thin layer of dust coated the duvet—a symptom of neglect. Still, there were signs that he had attempted to prepare. The neatly arranged cosmetics on the vanity, the dusted balcony with its watered plants, the stocked bird feeder swaying gently from the ceiling, the polished bathroom with its dry, tiled floors. They spoke of the care he had taken to render the space habitable for you.

It was your belief that people tidied before the arrival of guests to mask the unguarded fragments of themselves, those revealed in the dim solitude of their rooms. You could sense the effort he had poured into creating an illusion of warmth. His room practically welcomed you. Little hints of life were scattered throughout, almost as if to weave a mirage of normalcy.

"When we move in together in the future, what kind of room do you want?"

You lifted your chin, humming in thought. "Oh! I know! I want a lively room!"

"You mean colourful and vibrant?"

You shook your head. "No, dummy. A warm room! One that looks lived in."

Had he remembered your words? Back then, you had merely been a child. You had no true grasp of what you were saying, lacked the linguistic skills to articulate your thoughts. And yet, he remembered. Or perhaps it was simply instinct—after all, any normal person would feel more comfortable in a space that had been occupied before.

Despite his meticulous efforts, something betrayed it all.

You ran a fingertip across the duvet, picking up dirt. He had forgotten to tend to the bed. You could see it now—the bed, untouched for so long, had appeared so pristine that it had entirely slipped his notice. That very perfection had made him overlook it. And you might have as well, had it not been for the red welts that bloomed upon contact.

That told you more than you had expected. So consumed with work, he had dehumanised himself. Yet, instead of confronting it, instead of seeking help, he had merely painted over the cracks and prayed you would not notice.

Caleb was underestimating you. And that would be his undoing.

As both a therapist and a friend, it was your duty to halt his descent before it could begin.

Breakfast was served a bit late, around the time you’d usually make it for yourself back at home. Flatbread stuffed with meat and cheese—slightly indulgent, you’d say, but filling and undeniably delicious. Especially when put together by his hands. The savoury aroma wafted through the kitchen. You sat near the counter, devouring the bread in bites that left your mouth stuffed and puffy. Caleb laughed at the sight. But what could you do? After all, you were obsessed with his culinary prowess.

Although, you would admit, it was hard to focus on the food when his eyes were practically glued to you, unmoving and unwavering. A chill crept through your limbs but was quickly swallowed by the sudden burst of flavour in your mouth.

“How is it?”

You mumbled incoherent words through your full cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

No matter how vastly he changed, one thing remained constant—his food. It hadn’t changed a bit. The taste carried the same warmth it once had, the same lingering aftertaste of his signature seasoning. A silly thought popped into your mind—what if that were to change as well? A ridiculous notion. But then again, art changes as the artist does.

“Do you eat well while you’re on duty?”

Caleb looked out the window and hummed. His gaze averted yours. “Does cafeteria food count as ‘eating well’?”

“…Not really.” You smiled. Why did he look away?

You pinched his arm. “Look at you—you’re going to grow frail and weak!”

Caleb flinched before wincing dramatically, forcing a chuckle. “Really? Guess I gotta start eating well, huh?” He paused, glancing at his arm. “Or else someone’s gonna be breathing down my neck even when we’re apart.”

With a tilt of your head, you nodded. “I’ll scold you every time I’m back.”

“If it means seeing you more ofte—ow!” You pinched a thin layer of his flesh and twisted it.

“I can see those evil schemes swirling around in your brain. Cut it out! Or do you want me to punch you?”

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Oh, whatever am I to do?”

Despite the playful spark in his eyes, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered toward the compartment beneath the counter. He shifted, positioning his body over the gap so you were unable to steal a glance even if you tried.

You tilted your head and hummed. Interesting. It was best not to let him know you’d caught on.

You swallowed the last bits of your food with a mug of icy water. “Once you’re weak, I’ll craft a ploy to seize your position. The fleet’s going to have a new Colonel soon!” Smirking slyly, you puffed out your chest with mock confidence.

An unexpected tension settled in the air. You noted the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched at the word Colonel. A fleeting, alien emotion flickered behind his violet eyes, only to be swiftly dimmed by his sudden grin. That same, insufferable grin that guarded the entrance before you could step into his mind. His way of shutting you out.

He poked your arm and chuckled. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Colonel.” A palm rose to his head in an exaggerated salute.

Why was he so jumpy today?

Later, sometime during the afternoon, you dragged Caleb out for a casual tour of Skyhaven. “Show me your favourite places to relax!” you’d said with a beam. That was all it took for him to crumble to his knees.

He led you to a sky-based retreat (well, you were already in the sky, but still) situated atop a towering skyscraper that dwarfed all others of its kind. It was a behemoth of a building—a monolithic structure plated with heavily tinted, floor-to-ceiling windows on all four faces. The epitome of a modern yet intimidating corporate monolith. A lake surrounded it on three sides, and the only way in was via a vast bridge, sturdy enough to withstand the heaviest of cargo-bearing trucks, looping around the entire strip of land.

The apex was swallowed by cotton-white clouds. The last few floors vanished into the fog, dissolving from view. Despite the presence of splendid and meticulously maintained gardens throughout, only a few workers strolled about. Even with the meticulously architected bridges, barely any cars were to be seen. Only the distant rattle of golf buggies echoed in the air. Save for the occasional chirps and the gentle woosh of water below, it was eerily quiet.

You contemplated asking Caleb about it, but for some reason, your inability to piece it together on your own gnawed at you, filling you with a bitter pride. It should be easier than a murder case. Why were you fumbling? This was supposed to be your first real move. How could you falter before even setting your plan into motion?

None of the workers paid any real attention to the two of you as you stepped through the main entrance. Only a few odd glances followed. Caleb seemed to be a regular here. They all seemed at ease with his presence.

The elevator ride was a gruelling one. You could swear it took five whole minutes just to exceed the twentieth floor. Caleb argued it had only been forty seconds. It felt longer, nonetheless. Normally, a crowded elevator would have preoccupied you. You would have found yourself enthralled by the faces and mannerisms of the passers-by—the twenty-something man in a black suit, the unusually silent boy with bruises on his arms, the seemingly unfazed elderly woman with a deep-set frown. Insignificant to most, yet to you, endlessly fascinating.

For instance, the furrow on the businessman’s brow suggested he was late for work. The bruises on the boy’s body spoke of a heartwarming heroism, evident in the little girl beside him who thanked him ceaselessly (though, judging by his expression, he had definitely received an earful from his guardian). And the irritable old woman—well, she was quite clearly the one who had placed a zipper on the boy’s mouth.

What seemed forgettable to others was precious to you, and as long as there was company, you found solace.

But here, there wasn’t. Other than Caleb, of course. And unfortunately, you couldn’t exactly stare at him for the entire ride. You’d rather not resemble a mad doctor dissecting a newly discovered organism. Still, you couldn’t deny it—he was far more interesting than any stranger.

So, you stared at him anyway. Luckily for you, he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps because he was too preoccupied, gazing out the transparent sheet of glass with a small smile on his lips. He seemed to be in a good state of mind. That was good. Otherwise, things had a slim chance of escalating into an argument. Nothing you couldn’t handle, just something you’d rather avoid. Or else, he’d pierce through your façade faster than you intended.

The doors slid open with a hiss. Beams of warm light spilled through, hitting your face and causing you to squint. The entryway, constructed of flimsy straw structures, was adorned with threads of vines creeping up and down the walls. Sunlight dripped through the holes in the patchwork roof, glinting cruelly beyond the tapestry, shining down with all its might—an act of savagery against your poor eyes. Thankfully, the vines shielded you from its full assault.

You tilted your head. A woman—uniformed, with a strict look on her face—stood beside the entrance with an immaculate posture. A familiar hat sat low on her head, guarding her eyes from both the intense heat and light. The utter lack of emotion in her gaze sent an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You glanced up at Caleb. He was unfazed by her presence, as if she were a mere colleague or a guard standing by. But she wasn’t the latter. You could tell by the uniform.

With your hand in his, he strode up to the woman. She offered a curt salute in response. “Colonel.”

“We would like to enter.” His voice was cold, a stark contrast to the way his thumb tenderly grazed over yours.

The woman turned to you. Her head tilted as she scrutinised you with a wary gaze. Then, she nodded. “Right this way.”

You were sure of it now. This was a private building, accessible only to high-ranking members of the Farspace fleet. You supposed such an arduous job had its benefits. Well, this was the least they could offer to those who put their lives on the line each day, fighting for yet more senseless bloodshed. This place was built upon a mixture of blood and sweat.

You grimaced. It felt wrong to stand upon this ground. If you squinted, you could see them—corpses strewn across the floor, brain matter splattered across the walls. Your stomach coiled. What a pathetic way to live—to be crowned in blood and sit upon a throne of bloodied cash, chest brimming with pride, belly full of greed, smirking down upon the famished.

You turned to face Caleb. You supposed he wasn’t too different from those people. And yet, you had forgotten all about it until now. He was truly a master at forging a harmless appearance, a welcoming front. Even now, a part of you refused to see him that way.

You supposed you were guilty as well. You had accepted your position as his plus-one without hesitation and accompanied him to such a place. It was hypocritical to persecute him while standing upon the faces of corpses, declaring yourself the selfless hero.

Such was the nature of humans.

The woman led you through the delicate gate. Caleb dragged you along. The first time you laid your eyes on the garden, your world stilled.

Words could not describe how breathtaking yet melancholic the sight before you was. If you were to attempt to jot it down on a piece of paper, you would be stuck on the first word. Unlike your initial beliefs, the botanical garden was not encased in glass. It should’ve been obvious from the torture you’d endured—the perpetrator being the sadistic, open sun. Maybe it was the awe of it all that heightened your perplexity.

The flowering meadows, the perfectly trimmed patches of fresh, green grass, the symmetrical, square-shaped ponds, the pair of birds feeding from the birdbath, the cascading artificial waterfalls—you didn’t know which one of them struck you the deepest. Or maybe it was the overly maintained religious sculptures—the one depicting a winged woman, angel or devil, with a honeycomb for her face—or the concerningly clean walkways, or the flawlessly aligned roses in the rose gardens that seemed a little too well-kept, stealing away the ‘wild’ and ‘natural’ vibe of your typical botanical garden.

The sky above was a whirlwind of blues, whites, subtle purples, and a dominant yellow-white. A soft breeze cascaded past, threading through the strands of your hair and dancing along your skin. It was cool and pleasant—perfectly so. Like the soft spring breeze that blows in February, or the afternoon wind at the shore of a river. It was just right. The perfect temperature to lull you to sleep.

Your mind winded back to the afternoons you spent with Caleb under your backyard’s willow tree. The breeze there would blow just as strikingly as it did here. Leaves would flutter down onto your face, only to be brushed aside by Caleb’s warm fingers. You would spend several hours lying there with him. Whether it was to complete your homework (of course, you slacked off and lured him into an endless chat instead) or flip through a book, he would always be there, brimming with that brotherly tenderness of his. It made up for your lack of a father figure in your life—Grandma Josephine being your only guardian.

Your heart ached at the memory. Maybe he hadn’t changed at all. Even then, Caleb harboured one major purpose—to protect what he loved, you, and to cherish it to the fullest. You had a hunch—what if that mysterious chip in his brain did not alter him entirely, but only heightened his preexisting instincts? But still. You found it hard to believe that the chip could truly rewire his brain so severely. You refused to believe such contraband existed. The mind is a fragile thing. It’s not so easy to suppress its power. Although all factual data pointed towards only a little portion of his brain remaining untouched, you firmly believed it was a front.

Maybe, among his emotions lay one that would be easy to utilise, to take control of and provoke so that he abided by their rules. And the only emotion so easy to manoeuvre—his only weakness—was his love for you. If you hadn’t been born…

“It’s… wow,” you let out an audible gasp. Your eyes twinkled with stars. On your heels, you spun around, imprinting every inch of the garden in your memory. Caleb didn’t need to be a genius to know that bringing you here was the best choice he had made in a long time. His grin mimicked yours. There was no use in asking whether you were enjoying the view or not—the way you frantically hopped about the place, skipping from pond to pond and observing the exotic birds from afar, told him everything.

With small, unhurried steps, Caleb approached you as you peeked at the pair of colourful birds drinking from the birdbath. “They’re raised here. I feed ’em sometimes.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “They’re friendly towards humans. Watch.”

He held out his right hand and approached the birds gingerly. The blue jay tilted its head to scan Caleb as he neared. As if recognising him immediately, it leapt onto his arm.

Using his other hand, he gestured for you to come. You approached with silent and hesitant steps. Once close enough, you reached up to touch the blue jay perched on his arm. You nearly jumped into a pond when the bird took off. Your cheeks flushed red, to which Caleb burst out guffawing.

“I forgot to mention—they don’t like being touched. Sorry, Pip!” he uttered between chuckles.

You gave him the meanest glare you could muster. “How very forgetful of you.” You brought an accusatory finger to point at his chest. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did!”

The woman watching from afar could not help but smile at your meaningless banter.

You and Caleb lingered until the sun began to dip below the horizon, until the once-blue skies were replaced with a bright orange-red and purple. The clouds began to darken—the battle cry of an impending tempest. Or was it the coming of night? You didn’t know. Nonetheless, both of you refused to leave.

“The world looks so tiny from here.” You compared the size of the structures afar with your fingers. Your other hand gripped the railing for support. “I’m almost jealous. You get to come here every day.”

You mumbled, turning to face Caleb, who appeared entranced by the hues of the setting sun. A smile adorned your face. He looked so peaceful, so content. As if nothing had occurred in the past few months, as if it was still the two of you against the world. You yearned to breathe in his embrace once more, just like old times. You swallowed. You couldn’t afford that. The past was gone. Now, only the future awaited—a future that depended on your actions, your choices, and your diligence. You couldn’t back out now. You were too far in.

“Don’t you miss that Willow tree?” you started. “The big one in our backyard. We used to rest against the trunk on the grass.”

“Once, I had to save you from a grasshopper. It lunged at you from the grass, and you screamed like a child,” he laughed. “And afterwards, you ended up avoiding that place for two weeks.”

“I only went after you got rid of them.”

He nodded. “I sprayed the whole area with bug repellent—it killed some of the vegetation as well.”

You smiled at the memory. “Grandma was so mad at us.”

A comfortable quietude ensued, submerging you both into a peaceful state of mind. Then, Caleb spoke solemnly.

“I have patrol tomorrow.” The sun began to disappear below the horizon, leaving swipes of purple behind on the sky. Dark clouds converged. “I won’t be there for you, pip.”

“Truth be told…” You gazed up at the vanishing sun. “I have some work to do. I came here for a more peaceful and friendly working environment.”

“Then you can busy yourself with that. Just… don’t burn down my kitchen, yeah?”

You shot him a scheming grin, yet it held no bite. “When will you be back?”

“The day after. Not too long.”

You bit your lip. Couldn’t he have stayed for a day longer? You had to be quick on your feet, then.

“Did you think about it?” Caleb suddenly interrupted. The gears turned in your head. Your mind was brought back to the offer he’d made before you departed from Skyhaven the last time—“Why not live here? You have nothing left in Linkon city to return to. I can get you a position somewhere as a criminologist. You can return to doing what you loved.”

Your gaze returned to him. You hadn’t decided yet. Sure, it gave you quite a handful of opportunities to inspect his brain a little closer. But if your plan failed? You’d be stuck in Skyhaven. You were sure it wouldn’t, but…

You took the flesh of your mouth into your teeth. It wasn’t the time to doubt yourself. But that wasn’t the only concern in your mind. The thought of him bearing so much power over your life and your job put you at unease. It was risky. Terribly so. It made your advantages over him feel insignificant. No matter how passionate you were about your work, and no matter your love for him, you preferred your sanity and wellbeing over all.

You turned to Caleb with an apologetic smile. His eyebrows furrowed, and a flicker of disappointment crossed his face. “Sorry, Caleb. I’ve made some friends, and I’m happy with the quiet life I’ve managed to build for myself.”

You could sense his thoughts—“What life? That poor, miserable one devoid of my presence and protection?”—you were sure that was what’d crossed his mind at that moment. You could tell by the way his jaw was clenched and his muscles tightened. But at once, the solicitous façade returned, washing away every hint of dissatisfaction that’d dared to cross his face. “That’s all right. You’re free to change your mind whenever you wish.” You forced your lips into a tight smile in return. “I appreciate it.” A part of you winced at the sudden formality in your tones. For some reason, you loathed whenever he got serious. It frightened you somewhat.

“You know, pip-squeak,” Caleb mused, his voice light, casual. Unnervingly so. Something in your stomach coiled—that familiar feeling of dread and anticipation. “Something tells me you’re not here for relaxation.”

You stilled, only for a little while. But it was enough. His gaze sharpened. “Tell me.” His eyes bore into yours—calculating, scrutinising, leaving no stone unturned. As if you were the experiment, and he, the mad scientist. Something venomous swirled in his violet hues. Like a dagger, or like the teeth of a snake—sharp, ready to pierce skin, waiting.

Unreadable.

Bolts of lightning ripped through the skies, illuminating a part of Caleb’s face to highlight the utter insanity brewing beneath his irises. A strong, dusty wind blew, sending shivers down your spine—though, you were unaware whether they were from fear or the cold. So, it was an oncoming storm.

Your fingers curled against the railing. Your sweat seeped onto its surface. You hesitated.

“Caleb, that’s—” A soft voice murmured. You let out a breathless laugh, flustered. “You’re not wrong.”

The air between you stretched taut. He remained silent, unmoving. Once again, silence had engulfed you, but this time, it wasn’t pleasant. Like a watchful eagle, Caleb waited.

You brushed strands of hair away from your eyes and glued your eyes to the birds instead. “You know, lately, I’ve just—I’ve been thinking,” you let your words tremble, “I—I’m sorry…” You gripped your chest. “I’ve been thinking that, maybe…” You swallowed, lowering your gaze. Perfect.

You inhaled sharply. “You were right.”

His brow raised. He seemed hooked.

“I thought about what you said—about my security. And you’re right. Although I’ve trained in the police, my combat knowledge is minimal. Linkon city is becoming less safe by the second, especially for me.” You closed your eyes. “Assuming what you said was true, about several corporations being after my head—well, my heart, I just can’t help but feel unsafe. Even when surrounded by my friends, even in my own home.” Your lips quivered. He listened with immaculate patience, as if he were picking apart your words, searching for a hidden subtext. “And now, everybody seems like hollow, empty beings. I can’t resonate with my patients; I can’t have fun with my friends. I feel so… isolated. So alone. And I realised,” you continued, “that despite all, you on the other hand? You were always there for me. In my heart, by my side. I could truly only be safe and happy when with you.”

Silence. The only sound in the air was the crackling of thunder.

You chanced a glance at him, watching how his eye twitched. Had he caught on? Were you in trouble? Was he mad? Your anxiety peaked at the slow inhale as he prepared to speak.

But then, his eyes softened.

“You should’ve just said so.” His voice was gentle, lacking the malice it once had. “You know you can always turn to me for help, right?”

Bingo.

Inside, you smirked. It worked. He fell for it. How could he not? You had been preparing for ages.

You’d won your first challenge. Arguably, it was the toughest one. If you’d failed—if he’d caught on, or noticed even the smallest hint of it having been a lie, your entire world would’ve crumbled. All that you’d worked for, gone. Rendered meaningless by your incompetence. You didn’t know what you would do afterward if that were to happen.

You let yourself appear small and vulnerable when you looked back at Caleb, attempting to highlight the anxiety in your eyes. “I know. I was planning to say it, but a perfect moment never came. Until now, that is.”

Caleb brought his palm to your cheek and cradled your face in his arms. “You don’t need an excuse to be honest with me. Whenever you feel like it, just lay your heart bare.”

“But you seemed so happy. Like you were enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to ruin it with my embarrassing thoughts.” You argued, forcing a frown on your face. He shook his head. “Once you’re done, we can go straight back to having fun if that’s what you want. Besides,” he averted his gaze, “It’s been on my mind all day—why you could be pretendin’ when you could’ve just told me. I was wondering how bad it was for you to be hidin’ it from me so desperately.”

You assumed as much. Explains why he seemed so jumpy earlier during breakfast, and why he kept zoning out the entire way here. It was what gave you the idea of using such deceit in the first place. You were sure if there was a perfect place to confront you about it, it would be here; under the witness of the setting sun, in a place you were bound to feel sentimental and thus, vulnerable and ready to spill it all out.

Unfortunately, you were not willing to fall for such a clear trap.

By the time you had left, the downpour had begun. Weighted beads of water stormed down on you viciously. The two of you rushed out before the storm could catch you. Well, one of you did. Caleb, who so valiantly used himself to shield you against the relentless tempest, had been completely drenched. Blobs of water dragged along the floor as he walked. You swore, if you squeezed him then, a whole waterfall would erupt. It was almost sweet—the way he so earnestly utilised his behemoth of a body to block out the storm’s ceaseless assault. It was something straight out of a romantic drama, or some sort of cliché film. But for some reason, you couldn’t cringe. You only laughed it off, paying no mind to the gentle flutter in your stomach.

The drive home was thrilling—abundant with giggles and snarky remarks thrown around. Perhaps you were in a better mood because your stomach was full—Caleb had been kind enough to treat you to supper in a small café situated on the middlemost floor of that building. The chef’s culinary expertise overflowed from the arrangement of exquisitely prepared Skyhaven delicacies. And the best part? They were quite cheap. Had you received a discount in honour of his presence? You didn’t know. But at the very least, you didn’t go broke after insisting that you split the bill 50/50. Despite having dried off, however, Caleb somehow wetted the seats.

Once home, both of you almost immediately collapsed onto the couch (you threw him off, of course, for soaking the furniture with the remnants of his heroism). He scrambled out of his clothes and cooked you both a warm plate of braised chicken wings shortly after. Dinner ensued normally this time, with a dearth of odd flinches or averted gazes. The two of you simply chatted to your heart’s content, both putting in equal effort to make it seem as if old times had returned.

Of course, it hadn’t. You were thrust back into reality when Caleb’s phone began to ring.

With a sidelong glance, he excused himself, making haste to his room and shutting the door behind him. You eyed the door, moving only when you were sure it’d clicked shut. Tip-toeing over to the kitchen, you bent down to eye the compartments underneath. There it was. Unmistakable, concrete—a file of unknown origin adorned with a sleek grey cover. You glanced over the counter. He wasn’t done yet. Your attention travelled back to the file.

But you paused. Tremors rippled through you as you slipped the ring off your finger and dropped it to the floor. With a measured kick, you pushed it further beneath the counter. Just to be safe. In case you were caught.

You reached into the compartment. Your entire arm was swallowed by darkness before finally, your fingers met the file. Cautiously, you pulled it out. The layer of dust coating its surface sprang up to your face as you dusted it. You made an effort not to cough.

The file’s edges were worn. Yet the pages inside appeared to be relatively new and untouched, perhaps even well-kept. A plastic sleeve shielded the grey manila folder from all sorts of debris. The pages inside were laminated and contained bundles of new words and information foreign to you. The file’s contents overwhelmed you. They appeared to be gibberish, nonsensical.

You deftly skimmed through the first few pages. None of the information contained within them seemed worthy of noting. Not to you, at least. There didn’t appear to be anything you didn’t know and was not known by the public. Then why was he reacting so oddly back then? Why had he flinched? Why had his gaze travelled back to his lap—or more specifically, to this file, as he anxiously fiddled with his fingers? You’d lured him away on purpose—dragging him outside the moment he could’ve gotten a chance to remove the file before you could grasp it. Was it all for nothing, then? Were you mistaken?

You stilled.

You weren’t mistaken after all.

Your fingers hovered over the fifth page.

There, in big, bold letters, was your name.

Inscribed upon the laminated page. And beside that lay your picture, alongside a list of unremarkable data, such as your date of birth, full name, affiliation, and so on.

Before you could investigate further, a voice called out your name. You hadn’t heard the door creak open.

You peered up from beneath the counter. Caleb’s face was contorted with horror—his pupils contracted; his body frozen. The hand holding his phone to his ear dropped to his side. He began to stride toward you.

You shoved the folder lazily into the compartment once more, ensuring no sound was emitted in the process. Adopting the most nonchalant expression you could, you lifted your head to face him. “Caleb,” you called out, a small pout gracing your lips, “I can’t reach the ring.”

He stopped. The act seemed to have taken effect. He cocked his head, eyes bearing into yours, as if ripping apart your soul itself for a trace of a lie. But you weren’t intimidated by his silent interrogation. You held your resolve, maintaining the façade with determined accuracy. Gradually, Caleb’s impishness returned.

“Dropped it?”

He fell for it so flawlessly, it almost irked you that he hadn’t put up a bigger fight. You pouted internally. Could he not have pretended not to buy it? For the sake of the thrill? Oh, well. A win’s a win.

You nodded. “I can’t reach it. Can you help me?”

He hurried to your side and hunched over. You noted the way his eyes skimmed over the document tucked away in the depths of the compartment, right where he’d left it, before it went to the gap underneath the counter. The subtle glint of your ring confirmed your honesty. He raised his hand and twirled his fingers in the air. As if a gust of wind had carried it here, the ring smoothly levitated out of the darkness and onto the countertop. You shot him a sheepish smile before returning to your feet to collect the ring.

Just as you slipped it onto your finger, Caleb grasped your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him. His eyes bore an unnerving intensity as they skimmed over your face. Were you busted? Had he caught on? You didn’t let the quiver reach your lips. Instead, you donned a perplexed complexion as he whisked your head around.

Once satisfied, he released you from his grip and ruffled your hair. “Just checking if you’d gotten dust on you.” You rolled your eyes in response. “I’m not a child anymore!”

“Anyway, anything wrong? That call seemed important.” You caught him zoning out, staring into the distance. You waved your hand before his face. “Earth to Caleb?”

He straightened himself. “Not really. I just… might return home a little late tomorrow. And I gotta leave tonight.”

You frowned. He had the audacity to lie to your face, knowing you were skilled enough to penetrate through whatever front he puts up. Pushing it would only add to the uncomfortableness of it all, so you sealed your lips instead.

You whined, although it came out a bit prolonged, before swatting his arm weakly. “But you said…”

“I know,” he sighed, “But duty calls.”

“Tell you what?” He brushed a stray strand away and cradled your cheek. For a moment, he glanced to the side, lost in thought, before he looked back at you and continued, “I’ll make it up to ya once I’m back. But with that being said, don’t stay up too late tomorrow, yeah?” You pretended to be unmoved, but a part of you jumped at the mention of recuperation. You wondered what it would be. Food, perhaps? Or maybe tickets to that movie you’d been dying to watch? Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny it enlivened you.

Caleb seemed to have noticed the somersaults you did, and the way you skipped around with joy behind those eyes. He smirked. “I’ll be leaving now. Get some rest. I’m sure you’re tire—achoo!” He hastily covered his mouth with his arm. Another sneeze. And another.

You narrowed your eyes and folded your arms over your chest. “Are you sure you won’t catch a cold? Although you probably already have…” you muttered the last part under your breath.

Caleb waved his arm dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be—” And another. “Yeah. Anyways, as I was saying, go to bed on time, alright?”

You shook your head, as if disheartened by his juvenile behaviour. “Alright. But, at least take some medicine or something. It’ll probably be one long night.”

When Caleb had left, the tempest roared at its prime. Despite having handed him two umbrellas, a string of worry coiled in your chest. Could he fend off against the raging winds that thumped against the sliding glass doors of the balcony and threatened to knock them over? No matter how strong a man, he was deemed fragile and brittle against the forces of nature. What if an uninvited bolt of electricity had happened to fall upon him as he walked? Was he even walking? You hoped not. At least vehicles were designed to protect people from lightning.

In the end, the quietude proved to be quite pleasant. You could immerse yourself in re-studying Harrison’s case without the fear of Caleb barging in and catching you red-handed.

You managed to skim over quite a lot of pages before hunger struck. Glancing up at the clock, the realisation dawned upon you that you had been at it for more than two hours. But it was a productive two-hour session with yourself, you’d say. But there were obstacles, nonetheless. As you’d suspected, Roan’s problematic behaviour had a completely different source from what you’d suspected Caleb’s to be. He acted on paranoia and insecurity, whereas Caleb seemed more insistent on the idea of protection. Roan’s obsession blinded his wit and caused him to act on impulse.

The kidnapping of Anne Lotte, although seemingly flawless, was conducted on a whim. Harrison executed his plan with merely a gun, a bundle of ropes, and some chloroform to sedate her. The alley Anne happened to be crossing through had no cameras, and as it was a secluded shortcut few were aware of, there were no passers-by to witness the crime. Nobody had gotten injured, thanks to Harrison’s prior police training, so there was no blood or evidence to be picked up. All other proof happened to be washed away by the rain shortly after.

From this timeline of events, it was clear that Harrison had gotten away with Anne’s kidnapping simply because of luck. If the stars hadn’t aligned during his sudden state of paranoia, Anne would be alive and well now. What an unlucky girl she was. It was almost as if fate had abandoned her.

Harrison had strength, but he was dim. That was what caused the inevitable discovery of Anne stashed away in his basement. Caleb, on the other hand, possessed both. Throughout high school, he had topped you almost constantly. No matter how hard you studied, no matter how many all-nighters you’d pulled, he would somehow manage to top you with a mere four or five hours of study before an examination.

You admit, you were envious of him throughout most of your teenage years, and you were appalled when he’d decided to tread a completely different academic path from yours. But nowadays, looking back, you realise that the only reason he’d made such an effort to conquer you was to be a reliable pillar of support if you were to falter. Which, inevitably due to the gallons of caffeine and hours’ worth of lost sleep, you did. Another irksome consequence of his undying affection that you had to suffer.

Even now, his wits and manipulation are clear. You were sure nobody rose to the rank of Colonel so swiftly without possessing immense intelligence. Caleb’s puppy eyes weren’t going to fool anyone. Not you, at least. They couldn’t hide the terrifyingly adept brain that lay beyond them.

Anne’s decline in mental well-being was predetermined. It was part of Harrison’s flawed plan all along. His insecurity left little room for actual care and affection to be expressed towards her, and as a result, he determined that breaking her resolve would be the surest way of ensuring submission. Of course, that did backfire for him. It led to her malnutrition, forecasted miscarriages, and her eventual suicide. Although you had no sure way of knowing what Caleb would’ve done, you were sure it wasn’t this.

Someone like him could predict such an outcome from a mile away. Breaking somebody’s mind, in this case, would be a reckless decision. And most importantly, his fatal flaw is that he loves too dearly and cares too much to be able to leave someone he admires to fend for themselves as he relentlessly shatters their psyche. He is too infatuated for that. His obsession stemmed from a desire to protect, not meaningless paranoia like Harrison’s. That explains why he would be unwilling to lay a finger on them.

And, of course, Caleb was a “manipulation>direct action” type of man. He had expressed his twisted desires to keep you confined and unable to flee once before, as he had been bandaging up your injured leg. But you were confident that his idea of confinement exists in a psychological state. He would bind your mind and heart to him, maneuver you to fall deeper into a psychical trap you could not escape. He would never directly imprison or confine. He would rewire your brain so that you willingly stuck yourself to him. It was a legal way to get what he wanted. And you didn’t doubt he could pull it off.

However, one thing to note was that he needed motive—proof that you were slipping from his grasp. As long as you remained on good terms, or pretended to, he would not need to resort to such methods.

Maybe.

Despite the dissimilarities, you were sure you could learn more to be able to counter his blows if he were to ever make some. But your main priority was still to cleanse his mind, to provide him with an opening to redeem himself and return to his normal life once more. Never mind your intentions. The contrast between their insanities led you to notice some peculiar things.

You turned to one of the back pages of your book and began scribbling down your thoughts.

Harrison and Caleb were merely two sides of the same coin. A cerberus with two heads. One who is impulsive, led on by rage and desire, and the other that is intelligent, driven by his loyalty to his master. But in the end, the cerberus is one complete being. If you split it in half, it will not regenerate like dividing cells. It will simply perish together. After all, both are two extremes.

Meaning if a lack of foresight could tackle one, then the other would fall for his over-calculation of things. They were both arrogant and full of themselves, believing only themselves and their strategies to be correct. In the end, they couldn’t see the 48 other heads lodged between the two—48 other ways to be “correct”.

The impulsive head aches to swallow his prey, to make incisions within his heart and stash them away in one of its chambers. And the cunning head too cuts, not his heart, but his lover’s brain, and detangles the strands only to twist them again, only this time in a way that would make them willing to stay. Resorting to such cruel yet more humane tactics implies that the fear of losing their treasure was rooted far more deeply in the intelligent cerberus rather than the dim one.

And what if fear is not another vulnerability to control?

Whereas Harrison is abundant in paranoia and insecurity, Caleb is almost wholly dominated by the extremity of positive emotions like love, care, and an overwhelming desire to protect. His unwillingness to hurt means that if you were to show even a single crack in your mind, the fear of you crumbling would force him to loosen his grip almost entirely, given that his side of the mind games had already begun. That would create the perfect opening for you to slip past and dash out to meet your freedom.

All you had to do was put on one more act.

Harrison’s impulsiveness, contrasting Caleb’s preparedness, also let you peer into another opening. If you continued to think of them as two sides of the same coin, then you could come upon this conclusion—if Harrison had a breaking point, so did he.

Harrison’s inevitable downfall and his psychological abuse of Anne was set into motion when the thought bit into his brain, whispering—“If you don’t tighten the leash, she will run away.” It was safe to assume that Caleb too had a breaking point. It was simply harder to reach. One side of the coin was made of bronze, whereas the other was constructed of tungsten. Both could melt, just at different speeds.

If you could provoke him up to that point, Caleb would be forced to reveal his hand. But, admittedly, picturing what could happen if he snapped was… unsettling. Precisely because you couldn’t picture it at all.

And thus, that would remain something you would try if you couldn’t get him to falter at all. A last resort, to be more specific.

And now, with your acquired information, you could weave your final plan: if he tried something anyway, you could paint a front of danger, as if his ‘advances’ and whatnot had thrown you into a state of endangerment, and if he didn’t back away immediately, it may cost him (and you) something precious. Whether it be your life, blood, or sanity, he cared too much not to abort instantaneously. Unlike Harrison, he wouldn’t act blindly—he’d justify his actions. If you could provide real consequences (consequences that mattered to him), you could alter his idea of justifications and compel him to rationalise his actions differently.

And how, exactly, would you achieve that? Well, that was something to figure out along the way. That was your motto—have a vague, surface-level plan, and build upon it as you go. If you had a solid, fool-proof plan, you wouldn’t have searched for information after arriving in Skyhaven.

To be honest with yourself, your knowledge on Caleb’s behaviour and your predictions on what may have happened next were minimal; certainly not enough to conclude that you were in any real danger, and certainly not enough to deduce that your initial assumptions could be utilised to orchestrate a surefire way of taking him down. You suppose you had to spend more time with him to come to a real conclusion. Of course, that wouldn’t be too easy, considering that you’d purposefully invaded at a time where he’d be busy juggling you and his duties simultaneously. You had your reasons. The perfect time to strike was when a man’s back was faced to you, and he was too busy with the happenings before him to notice the footsteps creeping up on him from behind. In short, right now, he was vulnerable. If he found out you were up to something, he would be too exhausted to think straight and thus he would falter. If you face an enemy far stronger than you, wear them down first, and then strike when they are on the verge of tears.

The real problem right now was how you could feign being endangered. For now, you’d come up with a few ways. Perhaps a more logical approach would be best for a start.

Skyhaven’s weather seemed mostly untouched. Save for yesterday’s storm, it remained relatively stable. With clear, cloudless skies, splashed with a unique blue, it was perfect weather—perfect air. Too perfect. Maybe the storm from yesterday lingered somewhere beneath the blues. It had to be. Nothing is truly calm—especially not here.

“Beautiful, isn’t it, Rhys?” you hummed. A flock of black ravens flitted past your window. The bitter scent of unbrewed coffee beans drifted in the café’s air. It was a scent you’d grown to admire. The perfect place to work, really. It opened your mind (and mouth) wide enough to effectively scribble away at one of your flimsy journals, analysing some patients’ consciousnesses or just gathering your thoughts. But today, you weren’t here for work.

“Probably because we’re so high up,” Rhys grinned, flashing his braced teeth. He was a tall man of dark complexion with thin brown hair kissing his shoulders. Rhys Vaughn—one of the few patients you’d reviewed in Skyhaven, involved with your limited history here. He used to be a drug addict and had nearly run over a child while stoned. To his luck, the child managed to escape mostly unscathed save for a broken limb, and thus, he got off with a relatively lighter charge. He was placed under your care while serving time in prison. Eventually, after a period of two years, you’d managed to lure him into making a full recovery. Now, he appeared before you, a new, clean man with a loving wife. But, above all, working with Rhys had one sure advantage—he was quite talented in the art of gathering information.

In his line of work as a technician, Rhys was required to have some basic computing skills. As a result, he’d undergone several computer science courses online, and he completely aced them. The coding shenanigans that couldn’t penetrate through your thick skull passed through his as if tearing through paper. He was skilled in what you were not; practical work. If there was anyone to call for some ethical hacking and information digging, it would be him. To Rhys, asking him to dig up information was the same as asking him to pass you the remote from across the room. You could put those skills to use.

“How’s your wife?” you gingerly sipped your coffee.

“She’s good. Hit a milestone in her art.”

“And you? How are you feeling?”

Rhys chuckled. “Still playing psychotherapist, miss?”

You shook your head with a sheepish smile. “Force of habit, you know? Can’t take my mind off work.” You waved your hand dismissively. “Really, though, how are you? Answer the question viewing me as… a friend.”

“I’m doin’ great!” He raised his hands dramatically in a gesture of joy. “Not delirious all day, actually sane and stable, able to keep relationships and eat something other than scrawny prison food. Yeah, couldn’t have been better.”

You smiled. Genuinely. “Good to know.”

Knowing your patient had achieved happiness fulfilled your purpose as both a psychotherapist and a human. Your mind recalled a skinnier Rhys sitting across from you on a long, white couch, lacking the sun in his eyes, which he now had multiple of, swirling about in his pools of bronze. His eyes back then; they were empty. He appeared a lifeless man with mould growing out of the pores of his skin. And now, he was here, sitting across from you, helping you just as you had helped him two years ago. It was a motherly pride that filled your chest, cascading through your nerves like a warm, sweet liquid. You couldn’t be happier.

“Anyway, what ya here for?”

You placed your hand under your chin and turned to look out the window.

“I remembered what you said, Rhys.”

He cocked an eyebrow and peered at you from over his cup as he sipped. You took it as a sign to continue. “You mentioned once that you owe me one, and that if I ever find myself in a stump in Skyhaven, I could call for you.”

“So,” he added a packet of sweetener into his coffee, “You want to take me up on that offer now? I thought you’d forgotten about me.” His countenance twisted to display mock hurt. “All right. I’m just playing. What’s it about?”

“I recently managed to earn myself a boyfriend,” you started, although cringing internally, “And I happen to doubt his mental well-being.”

Rhys kicked back on the plush of the chair. He’d figured it out already, you were sure, but you went on anyway.

“We just got together about 6 months ago. So, it’ll be hard to know enough to be able to help him.”

“So you want me to dig up some information about him?” He leaned closer. “What kind?”

“He’s an orphan. Doesn’t have family, pretends with his friends. But there are a few people he seemed close to. Some workers, mailmen, plumbers, you know. Those types of people I can never seem to get a hold of.”

“Should I fetch their contacts?”

“No.” You winced at the finality of your words. “I mean, yes, but not just that.”

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. An amused smirk crossed his face. Had he caught your lies?

“It’d be convenient if you could search for his transactions with them. Their backgrounds, history, et cetera. I have some… other doubts as well.”

With a large gulp, Rhys slurped up his coffee and wiped his face with a napkin. Only silence swayed between you two as he took his time to reply. He wasn’t thinking. Certainly not. But he lingered, nonetheless.

He knew, for sure.

“You know, little miss, I don’t know why you feel the need to fabricate when you know I don’t hesitate to dirty my hands.”

You glued your eyes to your lap.

“I owe you. And even if you asked me to kill a man, I’d do it.”

You let out a shaky exhale. “If I were still your therapist, I’d be scribbling on my notebook right now. But, considering I’m in a pinch, I’ll let it slide.” You smiled. “I appreciate your help, Rhys, and your respect for my privacy. I will forever be indebted to you.”

He swatted his hand about mindlessly. “Yeah, yeah. A name, please.” He slid you a slip of paper.

You plucked a pen from your coat and jotted down Caleb’s name before passing it across the table. Taking it between his fingers, Rhys eyed the name. He lingered there for a beat too long. Something was up. Your suspicions only spiked with the subtle twitch of his finger. A light of recognition crossed his bronze irises before fading just as swiftly. In a flash, his grin returned, and he pocketed the slip of paper before springing to his feet. “All right. Tomorrow, I’ll text you with whatever I find.”

You lowered your head. “Again, thank you.”

That night, Caleb returned late. Uninjured, thankfully, but acting odd nonetheless. In his hands, a small bag was clutched. You recalled his words—“I’ll make it up to you.”—and it took a lot for you to resist leaping from the couch and snatching the bag from his hands. What stopped you, aside from the fear of appearing awfully juvenile, was the exhaustion etched into his face.

When his eyes met yours, however, his complexion brightened immediately. Still clad in his uniform, Caleb kicked off his boots and strode towards you. A weariness weighed his movements. The strongest man you’d ever seen, both physically and mentally—your pillar of strength—stumbled across the room like a golden puppy dragging its injured leg along the floor, wagging its tail and paying no mind to its pain. You felt stabbed in the chest. For a man of such power, he could be absolutely endearing at times.

“Miss me, pip?” Caleb leaned down to ruffle your hair affectionately. You shut off your phone to smile at him. Your eyes enlarged as his familiar face appeared before you, but a frown tugged at your lips at the dark stains under his eyes. You reached your hand out to caress the blackened bags of flesh.

“You didn’t sleep.”

He cradled your face in turn. “Neither did you.” A flick to your forehead caused a pout to form on your face.

“I wasn’t working my ass off.”

“And I was. I know. I’m sorry.” He set his colonel cap on your head. The accessory dwarfed your skull, sinking down until it obscured your vision. Caleb stifled a laugh at the sight.

He noted the way your eyes drifted to the bag in his hand—the bag that was coated with crimson and shiny gold accents, which gave away very little about its contents. Sensing your curiosity, he handed the bag to you.

“The lady asks, and I deliver.” He bowed curtly. You both broke into merry laughter.

Stashed away in the depths of the tiny bag was a rectangular velvety jewellery case, coloured similarly to the bag, down to the gold accents. The mere surface of the case seemed extravagant enough to satisfy your greed even in the absence of the jewellery itself. You stared in awe. Were you truly deserving of the real gem hidden inside? Your fingers traced the engraving on the case’s surface. A remarkable brand. There was a lump gathering in your throat. It felt sacred to hold something so precious, so expensive. You were no high priestess or beloved queen—not worthy enough to clutch a revered artifact. And yet, Caleb’s eyes bore into yours with a gentleness that could bring you to tears. And it did. You felt tears threatening to form. You were sure he noticed.

A sudden wave of guilt knocked the wind out of your lungs. Just hours before, you’d been conspiring against him, digging up information that could potentially be labelled as an invasion of one’s privacy, and threading together a plan that was catered to go against him, to take him down. You knew you weren’t doing anything wrong. You were helping him. Guiding him to a path of happiness, just as you did with your patients, just as you did with Rhys.

Just as you would have with Harrison and Anne.

If only your incompetence hadn’t gotten them killed, they could walk their own paths today. You closed your eyes. An image flashed before you. A flimsy blonde girl with scars littering her arms, crossing a bridge, heading towards a field of flowers with her dead child clutching her hand. And a battered older man going the opposite way—a path towards a blinding light, the path to redemption.

You wouldn’t let it happen again.

There was nothing to be guilty of. Your fingers curled tighter against the fabric of your pants. There was nothing to be guilty of. You weren’t in the wrong. This was for the greater good. They’d understand. They surely would, once they realised that the path you chose for them was a more tranquil one.

But did you risk losing yourself in the process?

“Not going to open it? Your head’s been stuck in the clouds for about thirty seconds now.” Caleb loosened his tie before seating himself next to you. “Something on your mind? Is the casing not to your liking?”

You shook your head. “I’m just… you’re exhausted beyond belief right now, and you went through all that trouble… I don’t deserve this.” You frowned. “I’m so sorry for making you ‘make up’ to me. I didn’t know you’d go that far, I—”

Strong arms coiled around you, drawing you in. You felt the steady, yet surprisingly slow beats of his heart from where you were nestled against his chest. Fingers wove through your hair, offering a sense of solace you hadn’t felt in a while. With a low, careful tone, he whispered. His lips brushed against your ear. “Don’t say anything.”

And you obeyed.

For a moment, you remained steady. Silent. Your lips were pursed, and your heart beat fast—a stark contrast to his. You sank deeper into his embrace. Your grip faltered, and you eventually gave in to his presence entirely. Your body slumped against his, but he seemed to have no trouble bearing your weight. For a moment, you considered letting the tears flow. But a part of you clawed against the muscular wall of your heart in retaliation, screeching in protest. Something screamed danger, despite you being the safest you’d ever been right now.

With steady arms, Caleb brought your palm, which was weakly clutching the jewellery case, to your chest. “I had this ordered for months. I was just waiting for the right moment to pick it up. So,” with his other hand, he tousled your hair, “Don’t think you were a bother. And honestly? I can’t name a single woman more deserving of this than you.”

A faint blush coated your cheeks. But you shook it off before he could see. Renewed courage surged through you, and your fingers made their way to the hook of the case.

Carefully, you slid it open.

A white gleam.

There, perched amidst the plush, was a delicate, thin bracelet made of what appeared to be sterling silver. The chain itself was of a unique geometric design consisting of circles, ovals, and a myriad of shapes you couldn’t name. The expert craftsmanship showed in the presence of the bracelet’s seamless links and its shiny, polished clasp. You ran your fingers over the chain. The material was smooth, devoid of bumps or rough edges—things you’d usually find in low-quality bracelets.

You remembered complaining to him once how half of your bracelets used to dig into your skin, to which he’d reply with a smile, “One day, you won’t have to wear uncomfortable jewellery.” Back then, you’d brush it off with a “Oh, that day better come soon!”. But now, considering the significant amount of effort put into smoothing the surface, you wondered if this was what he truly meant.

The primary point of attraction, however, lay not in the bracelet’s gleam or smoothness, but in the moderately sized white gemstone hanging from it—a gorgeous pendant.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Caleb chuckled. “White sapphire.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. What could you say? You were surprised your jaw wasn’t kissing the floor by now.

Speechless, you ran your fingers along the gemstone. It weighed a bit more than you’d expected—an insignificant difference, really, but notable nonetheless. Perhaps it was pure. If that was the case, then it didn’t help with your simmering guilt.

“Here,” Caleb snatched the jewellery from your fingers, “Let me help you with that.”

Deftly, he slid the bracelet down your wrist and clasped the hook. You raised your arm, watching as the white sapphire that dangled from the thin chain glittered beneath the pencils of light. Your lips parted in awe.

“Promise me,” your attention shifted to Caleb as he brought your jewelled wrist to his chest, “That you won’t take this off.”

“Like how you’re glued to that dog tag I gave you?” You giggled. His lips curled into a soft smile. “If that’s how you want to put it.”

“Okay.” You placed your free palm atop his. “I promise, I’ll cherish this forever.”

“If you don’t, I’ll be really hurt.” He feigned a pout. But the yearning in his eyes was real.

You shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.” Caleb brought your palm against his face, sinking into your warmth. You stilled for a moment. This was way too intimate. But the guilt glued you in place, restricting you from moving away. Or was it his endearing affection? Nonetheless, pulling away felt like a crime. He’d handed you such a priceless treasure; could you not indulge him for a moment and let him bask in your radiance?

You choked back the sinking feeling in your gut to let him have his way with your arm. He was acting like a starved puppy. Cute, yes, but a little overbearing and unsettling. Almost as if the puppy brushing up against you had blood smearing its teeth. Of course, it was just your paranoia, and nothing was really there.

Nothing visible, at least.

In spite of your passionate protests, Caleb insisted on whipping up a late-night snack for you. And so, you were practically forced into your seat on the counter as you were made to watch him scurry through the kitchen. The heated pot sizzled in objection to the cold oil poured onto it. You’d made up your mind to just observe as he worked, in case you could find an opening or an excuse to help, but you were distracted by a notification on your phone.

Rhys.

You looked up at Caleb. He appeared too deeply immersed in his cooking to notice the small ding of your phone. Bringing the device under the shade of the counter, you opened your chat with Rhys.

“Miss, this is important.”

Your brow furrowed. “Found anything?”

“Well, yes. A few things. But first, I think I really gotta come clean with this.”

You silently typed out a reply. “Go on.”

“That guy? Caleb Xia? I know him.”

You froze, fingers hovering over your keyboard. Rhys continued typing.

“I worked for him in the past. He needed something installed in his home. I was the one who took up the job.”

“Install what?”

“Cameras.”

A void formed in your stomach. A sudden chill enveloped the air. You shivered involuntarily. Cameras. He had cameras in his house. Your head whipped about the room, scouring every wall and every corner for a hint of something that could be labelled as a camera. Something prickled the skin on the back of your neck. Caleb’s back was turned to you. But still, you felt something watching you from the shadows.

Paranoia. You couldn’t let it consume you.

“I found it odd back then,” Rhys continued, “He had it installed in his rooms. The bedrooms,” You studied Harrison’s case in one of them, “The living room, the hallways.” Dread crippled into your being. It was as if someone had thrown a pebble across a calm pond, causing violent ripples to tear through the once-steady surface.

“And also,”

He paused.

“The kitchen.”

A clot. In your throat. Your lungs constricted.

He knew.

Caleb knew.

That you’d stumbled across that document.

Images of a collected Caleb smiling down at you as you knelt against the counter resurfaced in your brain. The way he so nonchalantly fetched the ring for you, the act he’d put on just now. The act you’d believed.

You gazed down at the white bracelet clasped around your wrist. What used to be a remarkable work of superior craftsmanship transformed into a heavy chain made to tether you to him. ”I promise, I will cherish this forever.” You really were going to throw up.

With shaky hands, you shut your phone. Your eyes returned to the bracelet.

It wasn’t a gift. It was an anchor to bind you to him. To trick you into forming a vow you couldn’t break.

Shit.

You walked right into a trap.

Blind and oblivious. A moth to a flame.

The circular kitchen lights buzzed overhead. A flicker of light flashed past the window—a ghastly apparition, watching. You whipped your head towards it in an attempt to catch it before it fled. There was nothing. Were you seeing things? Paranoia. It was simply your fear—your body preparing itself to become hyper-aware of its surroundings. A consequence of the natural fight or flight response. You were paranoid. You were aware. But that didn’t help how every shadow felt darker, how every corner untouched by the kitchen’s dim light seemed to host an entity.

Your whole time here, you were being watched. How much had he seen?

“You seen a ghost?”

It took every bit of your strength to not leap off your seat. You looked up at him, then eyed the plate nestled in his palm. It was hard to trust him right now.

Under the faint light, half of Caleb’s face remained shrouded in an ominous shadow. His violet hues gleamed from beneath the darkness menacingly as they peered down at you. Beyond the cloak of darkness, however, his countenance seemed normal.

But you couldn’t shake the dread off.

An invisible shiver tiptoed down your spine. You forced a smile. “I got startled by the flash of lightning.”

“It’s stormin’?”, he placed the plate down on the counter before turning to the large windows. “Again?” A bolt of electricity ripped through the sky. Caleb turned to you with a smirk. “Still afraid of thunder, pip-squeak?”

Afraid of you., you wanted to say, but you bit your lip. It was best you avoid giving him reasons to put a collar on you. For now, you had to stay low.

“I’m not.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest. A forced blush crept up your neck. “I’m just… anyway, the food looks amazing!” You swiftly snatched the dish from his hands, leaving him slightly dumfounded as he lingered where the dish once was. With the help of his evol, Caleb pushed a pair of utensils your way. You were glad you suppressed the flinch that threatened to ripple through you. For the first time in your life, his evol terrified you.

The bed groaned under your weight as you suspended yourself entirely onto it. The mattress dipped beneath you. Even his bed, which, to you, had once been the comfiest bed in the anthropology of beds, felt like a cage. You could feel metallic tendrils crawling from beneath it, wrapping over your form as you slept, encasing you like a cocoon would. Perhaps that’s all you were to Caleb. A butterfly, useful only for its grace and the tranquility it brought. Meant to be wrapped away in a cocoon and let out only when it bloomed. The part of you bound to your profession begged to differ—clearly, that was not the case. Clearly, his feelings ran deeper than that. A complex tapestry of twisted adoration, infatuation, and perhaps even hatred or rage.

But that didn’t stop your feelings from thrashing about in a frenzy, did it?

It’s a simple truth. Many, if not all, of the patients you reviewed struggled with something similar to it. Their brains were aware of the truth, but their hearts refused to comply. It was a plague, killing them from the inside. Their loved ones resorted to presenting the truth before them. And their brains knew, lodging the processed data as it normally did. But the heart is a stubborn thing. Some things it refuses to accept.

At this point, you would become the patient.

A part of you urged yourself to bash your head against the wall for not predicting such a bold move on his end sooner. You were close to figuring it out. A part of the reason why you’d always gone to the bathroom to change included this subtle feeling of being watched. So, with your hands still gripping the ends of your shirt, you kicked open the bathroom door and changed there instead. You were glad you’d done that, of course, but you couldn’t hate yourself more for not pondering a second longer on the feeling of being watched. If you had, you were confident you’d have figured it out before he could notice. You were supposed to be ahead of him.

You were about to reopen the chat, but the sensation of a chilling pair of eyes drilling into your head halted your decision. The bedrooms also had cameras. But where? And how good was their image quality? Could he have read the contents of your journal, perchance? Could he see your chat even from up there? Your initial thought was to position yourself away from the camera. Find a blind spot, maybe. But all those ideas were rendered useless considering you were unaware of its position.

You could open your phone and check for any flashes of red or purple from infrared LEDs, which would most definitely be present assuming the cameras were equipped with night vision. But committing to such a dumb move would expose your knowledge of his ‘control’. You were sure twirling about the room in the dark with your phone’s camera on would leave no room for assumptions. What excuse would you bring? That you were so awe-struck by the lack of artistic interior design in Caleb’s room that you felt tempted to record it all and store it on your ‘top-10 things to not do while constructing a home’ list? Yeah, no. He would figure you out faster than Rhys had in the café.

You didn’t want to imagine what would happen next.

So, you resorted to the last thing you could think of.

You reached for a thin blanket and threw it over yourself. Protection. He couldn’t see what you were up to, even if he tried. And what excuse did one need to huddle up under a blanket?

You switched your phone open and scrolled through the messages you couldn’t read.

“I’d gotten it done a few days ago.” Right before your arrival at Skyhaven. He gauged your intentions so swiftly. A chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t tell whether it was from the storm’s frosty wind.

“Pretty high-tech stuff. With night vision and all. It was odd. I should’ve questioned it. But it wasn’t any of my business. So I left it.”

“I did some digging on his background. And, miss, I have to ask you—are you aware of his profession?”

You sighed, threading your hair through your fingers. You hadn’t asked him to dig up dirt on that matter.

“I’m not sure if I should be telling you, but—”

“I know,” you typed back. “I know about it very well.”

“I’m not sure if I should be getting involved in this. Surely, you understand?”

He knew too much. And for that, you had to let him go. Even if he hadn’t approached you first. You’d have to. Because honestly, you were scared of what that man could do. Scouring any further would prove risky for him. The last thing you wanted to do was put a man happily living his married life in inconceivable danger for the sake of your selfish desires. It was a cruel thing to do. Although you’d technically used him, it was your last wish to be selfish.

“I understand. I’m sorry for getting you caught up in this. Should I pay you for your troubles?”

“No need for that. I barely did anything. But, I will tell you this.”

You watched as the three small dots enlarged and shrank as he typed.

“Recently, some personnel were recruited under his command to be appointed to more general tasks. That’s the most I can tell you. Searching any further’s gonna cost me my head.”

You didn’t push Rhys any further. You thanked him for his service and were about to log off when he sent one last text message.

“Little miss, I know you’re determined in whatever you’re tryna do. But please. For your sake, leave Skyhaven and forget about this.” You gripped your phone a little tighter. Exhaling shaky breaths, you shuffled under the blanket. You knew Rhys was right, and that he only spoke from a place of genuine care and respect. You knew you should’ve taken his advice and ended your vacation here. But you couldn’t. Not when you’d gotten so far. You were too deep into this. You were sure that Caleb wouldn’t let you leave either—he was (most likely) aware that you’d stumbled upon that document. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something he wanted you to see. And he wasn’t going to let you flee so easily after unearthing such a disastrous secret of his.

But you had to say, he needed to practice being discreet more often.

“Protect yourself. If things go south, you can’t escape. The whole of Skyhaven is controlled by his fleet.”

You sighed. There was nothing to say to that. But you were sure it wouldn’t come to you having to physically run from the authorities and escape the land in secrecy. Physical restriction was something Caleb couldn’t bring himself to do, even if he was injected with all the liquid courage in the world. His care for you ran too deep, even if he had mentioned it in a fit of rage. You’d defend that belief with your life.

Why were you defending him again? Oh, well.

But if it came to mentally detaching yourself from him, well, that… you weren’t so sure. It just so happened that you’d been so full of yourself before arriving here that you’d completely forgotten to ponder the possibility of having to flee on short notice. Simply put, if worst came to worst, you had no plan to save yourself.

You agreed that Caleb did have influence. And, unfortunately, that could often overpower the authority over one’s mind and heart. After all, the realm we truly resided in was the physical realm, not the psychical one. If anything were to bind you in the physical world, you couldn’t escape from it even in your mind. In other words, you’d be trapped here, body and soul.

“Don’t worry,” you lied, “I have it under control.”

And with that, you ended your conversation with Rhys.

It was only a matter of awaiting the occurrences of tomorrow now. You wondered what the weather would be like the next day. Would it storm again? Or would Skyhaven finally see an endless period swarmed by the warm west breeze? The only thing you could do was close your eyes and wait and see.

Except, you couldn’t sleep.

Three hours had passed as you rolled about on the large contemporary bed, making a sleepless mess of yourself. You winced at the way your hair clung to your head, warm and sticky. Like lukewarm goo. You twirled a lock on your index, only to be surprised at the absence of the goo you were picturing. Were you imagining things? Nonetheless, your body ached for a good, cold shower. You switched your phone open to check the time. 4 AM. Oh, well. What better place was there to collect your thoughts than under the sprinkle of an artificial shower?

You hugged yourself a little tighter as the cold beads of water commenced their assault on your head and dripped down your sides. You trembled heavily, but you let yourself do so. It was the collection of your fear from the past few days bolting out of your body at once. Finally, you could let out the shaky breaths you’d been withholding. It was only within the confines of enclosed foggy glass and under a gentle spray that you could truly let yourself loose and breathe freely once more.

People underestimate how arduous it is to put up fronts. Acting wasn’t easy. Especially when your life practically depended on it. It was like waltzing through a stage, but instead of expectant guests and observers anticipating your fall, there were 500 archers and the world’s best snipers aiming for your head, all while you were bound not to break your dance. Put on a show and attempt to please your pursuers. The chance of failure was almost certain. Even the best of dancers and actors fail to escape such a scenario.

And that was the gamble you were willing to take—fighting; no, dancing for the nonexistent chance that you may save your head, all in the sake of helping somebody you found yourself caring for a lot more than you were willing to.

Your eyes trailed to the bracelet resting near the sink. When he had handed you that gift, you felt… truly happy. A feeling you hadn’t felt before. Like your heart had burst open, and a myriad of colours had strewn out in a frenzy. Like your skeleton had been immersed in warm pond water, and a flock of underwater lilies caressed your skin.

For the first time in a long while, you felt as if you were needed for a cause beyond that of your profession.

That you mattered to him as much as your patients did to you, or perhaps even more. In his eyes, you could see a care that extended beyond what you could comprehend. A desire to keep you close and by his side, basking in your warmth forever.

A long time ago, you’d frozen your heart.

All because you believed there was no place in this world for your emotions.

To be someone else’s haven, you had to forsake your own.

The moment Caleb had handed you that bag, you felt as if your life had gained a new meaning. In the end, you were just a girl like all others, and he had made you embrace that.

For a moment. Only for a moment.

Because now, the silver you once admired reminds you of the silver of a chain. The chain was thin and fine, for it was not made to restrain you, but to help you grow accustomed to the existence of a shackle on your mind. It was suffocating to wear it. But a part of you wondered—what if his affection is genuine? Then, would it be so bad to give in? Well, he was the only one who made you feel alive. Perhaps, if you just stayed…

No. You shook your head. Strings of water flew off your hair and hit the glass walls. This was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? To make you accustomed to his control. To silently persuade you into giving in out of your own volition.

Caleb wanted a reaction. Any hints that you were being sucked and molded in the black hole he set up for you. If that’s what he wanted, all you had to do was withhold it from him, no? Just stop reacting. Act normal, put some subtle distance between you two, and watch as he crumbled beneath your finger.

You shut off the shower and rolled your hair back on your head. That’s right. You had to submerge yourself back into your monochromatic world. Only then would he falter, knowing all his advances had failed.

You stepped out of the shower, bringing with you a trail of water as you walked. A small white towel was wrapped around your head, and a bigger one coiled around your torso. You snatched the bracelet off the sink after changing into your new clothes. No matter how you felt about it, you made a vow. And for the sake of your ideals, you would not stray from it.

The hardest part about experiencing your first loss was that you had to regain control afterwards. Fail this step, and watch as the spear cuts through your stomach inch by inch. And if you cannot truly regain control, form the illusion of it.

You eyed yourself in the mirror. A crease was present between your brows. Taking the cream off the vanity, you began applying it in long swipes across your skin. Caleb still used the same cream as before, huh?

Act as if nothing had happened. That was the best you could do for now. And to form a plan to actually reclaim your throne, you needed some alone time. Away from this house. Away from the prying eyes perched in every corner of every room, and away from him.

The cream melted into your skin.

It was about time you began searching for an excuse to get out of the house and stray from him. Perhaps you could look for work. A new patient. Something that came up urgently? Or was it better for you to be more subtle? Just whip up an excuse to go hang out with friends? Not that you had any friends in Skyhaven. And if he asked to tag along? What then?

You released yourself from the towel and reached for your shirt.

A sigh passed your lips. Seems it would just be best to find some work. But save for Rhys and a few others, barely any of your patients lived in Skyhaven. And even if they did, would you just go knocking on their doors and creating a new mental issue in their stead that somehow needed urgent fixing? That wouldn’t do. You required real work.

Perhaps it was a problem best saved for tomorrow. Right now, your starving stomach demanded some attention.

The kitchen lights flickered on with a buzz. One of them didn’t light. You’d better tell Caleb about it tomorrow.

The hum of the fridge increased in volume as you strode towards it with heavy steps. Inside, an arrangement of food lay: some in boxes, some bare, some bottled. Your eyes narrowed. They seemed to have been recently stocked. You bet his fridge had been empty up until your visit.

You snatched a plate of dinner’s leftovers and gathered a few utensils to accompany you. And with that, you plopped down on the couch, not bothering to turn on the lights. It risked waking him up, after all. You wouldn’t want that. Especially now.

Shuffle shuffle.

Something stirred beside you—a figure shrouded in darkness. You nearly launched your fork into its heart when a familiar arm reached out to wrap around your wrist. “It’s just me,” a groggy voice responded. You threw yourself off the couch and rushed to turn on the lights.

Caleb. It was just him.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You—” Your accusing finger pointed in his direction. “Why are you awake?”

His violet eyes skimmed over your form, stopping at your toweled hair. “Likewise.”

Sluggishly, you returned to your plate and picked up the fork. Caleb nestled himself by your side. “You took a shower? At 4:30 in the mornin’?”

“Why are you here? On the couch? I don’t recall seizing every single one of your rooms.”

He breathed a sigh. “I’ve made an enemy of insomnia, and it’s been chasin’ me ever since.” He turned to you. “Maybe you can help with that.”

“I don’t know what you take me for, but,” you stuffed a portion of food into your mouth, “I’m half-dead right now. Therapists are humans too.”

“But,” you wiped the corner of your mouth and finished up, “Still, I’m ready to listen.”

Caleb shook his head. “I was messin’ around, pip.”

“Such a tease, even when sleep-deprived.”

You pressed your fingers into his temple and soothed the area. Your fingers moved gingerly, as if the slightest slip-up could cost you one of them. The man under you gradually relaxed. His body sank deeper into the couch.

“Come on, Caleb. What’s the hold-up? I know you’re hiding something,” you cooed. His sealed eyes didn’t help with trying to see through him. But you pressed on nonetheless.

You leaned forward slightly, pinching his forehead a little harsher than you would have. Finally, he opened his eyes, only to glue them to the ceiling instead.

“I’m not going to force you into a 12-step rehabilitation programme.”

“I know, it’s just…” his eyes never left the ceiling, “You’re tired. I’m tired. We all need a break. You’re not entitled to help me.”

You hummed. “You’re right. I’m not.”

Caleb let out a small sigh of relief as you pressed down on that one spot on his forehead. You continued to massage the area for a while before moving on to the next.

“I’m doing this out of my own volition. I want to listen to you. And whether I’ll help, well, that depends on what it is.”

Picking up on the slightest droop of his lips, you continued, “But, unless it’s a tedious task like climbing a skyscraper with nothing but my bare hands, I won’t refuse you.”

Caleb’s eyes didn’t move from the ceiling lights as he contemplated. You could see the weight of decisions bearing down on his mind, and you worked your fingers accordingly to soothe him whenever he faced a mental obstruction. Your smile widened.

With one finger, you moved his gaze to you instead. “All right, mister. I know the ceiling’s looking quite lavish today, but I’m sitting right here, fighting for your attention.”

Caleb grinned. Subconsciously, his eyes travelled to your lips. You found yourself tensing up for a moment, but you swallowed it. Just how you were trained. But uneasiness overtook your nerves. Why was he looking at them like that? As if he yearned to devour them whole?

“You can’t outsmart me at this hour, Caleb. See?” You lifted your arms before placing them back on his temple. “I’m not writing any notes or anything.”

“It’s not that.”

“You make it seem like it is.” You sighed. “You don’t need to use big words. Just tell me what you need.”

“All right, then. Can I ask you for a favour?”

You hummed. “Depends on what it is.”

His eyes fluttered. You tensed as they lingered on your lips once more before they moved to meet your eyes. He seemed incredibly exhausted. “I have a friend,” he began, “And she’s been… off.”

“A fleet member?”

“Yes.” He let out a soft groan as your fingers continued to massage his temple. “You met her. She’s the guard at the garden we visited.”

Your mind recalled her stature. Tall, brooding, albeit intimidatingly, with curly ginger locks and tan skin. You remembered her.

“I’ve been worried about her mental well-being. She experienced a devastating divorce lately. And ever since, she’s been acting… you know. Distant. Violent. Is a little rougher with her underlings. I gave her a break, demoted her temporarily to the position of a guard. But she isn’t improving.”

Your brow furrowed. The behaviour he described seemed like the usual displays of pent-up anger and resentment following a horrid event. But what bothered you wasn’t the normalcy of her situation.

It was the fact that you’d failed to pick up even a sliver of negative emotions from her as your eyes landed on her face.

A therapist’s eyes were made to penetrate flesh and scour the soul with ease. Especially yours—considering your previous position. How come Caleb just happened to notice, whereas you entirely missed it? You were unsure whether his eyes were better than yours, or you were simply dozing off at that moment and unable to catch a glimpse, or…

Was it a hole in his story?

Still, the kindness and concern Caleb had shown towards his fellow colleague filled you with a sense of warmth you loathed. It felt genuine. But you couldn’t feel like this. Not with somebody like him.

“So, I guess you figured it out by now.”

Your fingers halted. Your eyes drifted in thought. “When should I visit her?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll give you the address. Should I tag along?”

“No,” you winced at the severity of your tone. In a frenzy, you reiterated, “She might be unwilling to open up if you tag along.”

He nodded in understanding. “Tomorrow, then. For now, let’s get some sleep.” In a swift motion, he pulled you onto him and buried your head into the crook of his neck. A red tint coated your cheeks, but you didn’t protest. Act normal.

You’d called for work, and work came to you. Sometimes, fate (and perhaps your luck) left you awe-struck.

But, this time, for some reason, you weren’t sure whether this was God’s plan or the Cerberus’.

No storm crackled through the air that day. Only an endless mass of grey clouds hovered over Skyhaven’s sky, still brewing, lingering, as if the storm were awaiting the right moment to unleash its shower. The air was damp, humid, but stiflingly hot. In spite of the absence of the sun, the heat rendered you as disgraceful as a panting dog. The metro was stuffed to the brim. People squeezed against you as you struggled to grip onto something. The heat radiating off the enraged passengers did not help in cooling you down. Quite a contrast to your initial thoughts that you could find a moment of respite in the metro’s air conditioning. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even manage to find a seat.

Luckily, trains moved fast. It was only a matter of five minutes before you pushed your way through and out of the suffocating swarm of people. Perhaps, you should’ve taken up Caleb’s offer for the car. But who knew what trick he had installed in there? Another camera? Or even a tracker? You were better off walking.

You fidgeted with the pendant of your bracelet. Caroline’s house was eerily quiet. Not a single beam of light peered out of her curtained windows. Only darkness emerged from underneath the front door. She lived in an isolated villa, something akin to a bungalow. Red-bricked, with mould growing off the walls, the small garden before the house was overgrown with ferns and invasive plants. Mushrooms grew off one side of the house. A foul stench permeated through the air.

She had a pool as well, somewhere near the back of the house that you could only catch a glimpse of as you arrived at the front gate. But that small glimpse was enough to know the state it was in—the water was rotting. Fallen leaves decayed on its surface, turning the once-blue waters into a murky yellow-green. If you weren’t any smarter, and if the decay had been any faster, you’d think it was a pond, not a pool. It smelled like wildlife as well—the damp, fungal musk of rot.

It surprised you how bad the smell near the house had accumulated, considering how large the bungalow’s verandas were, how abundant the number of windows, and how open the air around it was. Her house was isolated from the main roads. Only strips of vibrant green land stretched around it for acres. And to add to the advantages of the location, you were standing atop the windiest parts of the land. Knowing this, you wondered—where was the ammonia-like stench coming from? It was as if an entire crowd had relieved themselves across the garden and into the pool. If you hadn’t known better, you’d have believed it, if not for the large iron gates that were padlocked shut.

You rang the doorbell. No response. Your head craned to the top floors. The sliding glass doors near the veranda were open. The white curtains drifted in the air. Somebody was home.

You pressed your finger against the doorbell again. Once more, only silence greeted you. Something felt wrong. You’d imagined it to be a result of depression at first, but now, something felt off. Something lurked beneath the waters, threatening to erupt.

After a few more tries, you stepped away from the door. If she wasn’t going to let you in, you’d just leave.

Walking across the pavement, you pulled out your phone to quickly type a short apology message to Caleb. But that was when something caught your eye.

The back gate. It was open.

Your feet came to an abrupt halt. To get a closer look, you maneuvered your body and took a few steps. You weren’t mistaken. Alongside the gate, the back door was pried open as well.

You strode past the black pool until you were directly facing the looming red door. The stench was only increasing in intensity. But this time, you could smell something else. Something you couldn’t catch before.

Old blood and flesh.

You opened your phone’s camera and aimed it at the door. Just in case, you thought. With your free hand, you pushed it open.

The room inside was dark. Pots and various random clutter were littered on the ground. You made an effort not to step on them, but you found yourself stumbling nonetheless. In a hurry, your fingers worked to pry the curtains apart and swing the windows open one by one. You subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden gust of fresh air passing through the openings. Finally, some ventilation.

The phone’s recorder blinked.

The little light from outside illuminated the room just enough for you to be able to spot the light switch. Hurrying over, you flicked it.

The lights flickered on with a static buzz. The back door led to the kitchen. Or, well, you assumed it was one. You couldn’t tell because of the ruckus. It appeared as if a fight had occurred here. Either that, or Caroline was one messy individual. You doubted the latter.

The kitchen sink was clogged. A broth of mould, discarded food, and fish bones lay inside. You stopped yourself from gagging and throwing up your breakfast. The kitchen didn’t need another mess. It was suffering enough.

On the floor lay dirt tracks. Footprints—messily removed by rubbing more mud on top. Somebody was here. Could they still be here?

Dread finally seized you. Your foot stilled, and you found yourself unable to move any further. As if fate itself urged you to leave. To turn and leave out the back door as swiftly as you’d entered. But you couldn’t. Something was up, and a greater scandal could’ve been at play. You couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when you’d sunk one foot in already.

You dragged yourself along the battered tiles, entering room after room and flicking the lights on before swinging the windows open each time. Downstairs was empty. You’d checked everywhere—in the two living rooms, dining, and across all the hallways. You even made sure to check under the sofas. The static in your mind grew louder. It pierced through your ears painfully from the inside out, busting your eardrums until your head throbbed so violently you thought it would implode. The nothingness told you to not go.

You pushed yourself back onto your feet and bolted up the stairs. You searched all the rooms, throwing the doors open and spinning about the entire area before moving on to the next. Eventually, you’d scoured all the rooms. Save for one.

The demon gurgling inside you moved as your eyes landed on the door. The master bedroom door.

You held the camera up to your face and placed your hand on the doorknob.

With a sickening and loud creak, the door crept open.

You held your palm against your nose. The scent of ammonia was strong, paired with the decaying flesh you’d picked up from outside the bungalow. And to fuel the disgusting stench, your nose could also pick up the faint scent of bleach. Your face contorted. Bleach?

The bile rose, threatening to spill out of your throat. You swallowed it down. Bitter. You were really about to throw up. Everything inside was dark. But thanks to the light in the hallway, you could make out the debris scattered across the floors. Cigarette boxes, open and sealed, were present among most of the junk. Other than that, empty beer bottles and discarded laundry could be seen. From the ceiling, large decorations hung. Decorations or more clothing, you couldn’t tell. The scent of bleach engulfed your lungs.

Hesitantly, you reached for the lights.

Your phone fell to the floor with a thud. Your fingers curled into your palm. A tremble rippled through you. You couldn’t move.

They weren’t decorations at all.

A step.

Nor were they more ugly clothing.

Your hand met skin. Cold, lifeless skin.

There, from the ceiling, hung a ginger-haired woman, ghastly and pale.

A corpse.

Caroline.

Thunder drummed through the clouds. A flash illuminated behind you. But you were too still to be afraid. Your body shivered, even under the cloak of the warmest, fuzziest blanket Caleb owned. Your numb hands clutched a mug of hot cocoa. Its bittersweet aroma rose from the cup, entering your nostrils. But your mouth didn’t water at the scent. You only sat still, as lifeless as a corpse, as the wide-screen television played on, broadcasting the news of Caroline’s death.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you from behind. “Drink up, pip. It’s going to get cold.”

He was right. The fingers curled around the mug only felt cold—a sign of the drink’s dissipating warmth. But how could you eat? Your teeth had tasted flesh not long ago.

The figure behind you sighed. “I shouldn’t have sent you there.”

“I went too late.” You curled against yourself. “If I had been faster, I—”

“She’s been dead ever since that day at the garden. It was inevitable. We didn’t know.”

Your body slumped in his embrace, threatening to give in.

“She was my patient. I’m still responsible.”

“I’m so stupid.” Caleb’s arms left your torso, leaving you cold once more. A part of you ached to reach out, to grab him and bury yourself into him and just—disappear. Vanish from existence. It was what you deserved. What you’d brought upon yourself. “I shouldn’t have sent you on a job. I ruined your vacation.”

“Caleb, I can’t.” You buried your face in your palms. “We were having fun. We were laughing, joking around, all while she…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t have to. Caleb empathised, nonetheless.

Coming to your side, he gently pried the mug from your hands and cradled your face. “Let me warm it up for you.” He switched off the television and returned to the kitchen.

You curled up on the couch. This wasn’t meant to happen. Someone wasn’t supposed to die. Unrelated to your mission or not, experiencing a death head-on was not part of your predictions. This was supposed to be executed flawlessly. You were supposed to be in charge.

Nonetheless, you felt more of the control slipping from between your fingers with each passing second. You were losing. Devastatingly. You’d prepared for various outcomes—losing because of yourself, losing because of him, but you’d completely forgotten to consider that you could lose to independent external factors as well.

In short, you thought you were invincible.

You thought none grasped the situation better than yourself.

But alas, it was indeed the devil himself who’d intervened in your fate. The opening for a temporary escape from him was timed too perfectly. It was too good to be true.

And it wasn’t. What you’d thought would be a normal, perhaps exhausting, session with a new patient, morphed into a traumatic, arduous twist of fate that would throw you entirely off course, flicking you so far from your path that crawling back was rendered both physically and mentally impossible. How could this have happened? You just lost twice in a row. Fate had abandoned you, just how it had abandoned Anne.

You gritted your teeth.

None of this was fair. Caroline shouldn’t have had to die. Nobody deserved death. Images of her intimidating visage flashed across your mind. Just a few days ago, you heard her speak. Just a few days ago, she was blinking, moving, talking, eating, breathing. And now, she was off to God-knows-where. Perhaps her body was stored in some cold machine, or she was placed in a stretcher as the morgue worked with her body. In a blink, the life was sucked out of her. And she was rendered nothing.

You eyed your arm. Everything felt so surreal. What if this was all just a dream? An alternate reality, or a sick nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. You shut your eyes and attempted to drift off into another land. It was too taxing to process this overload. It was better just to sleep it off, or just disassociate so you didn’t have to make peace with the truth.

You pressed your lips into a thin line. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a moment of shut-eye. The sight of the corpse flashed before your eyes. A noose was tied around Caroline’s neck as she hung from the ceiling fan; dead, lifeless, gone. So close yet so out of your reach. Her once-vibrant ginger locks were tainted a sickly orange. Her once-intimidating eyes were sealed eternally shut. The lips she’d spoken with that day were dry, blue. Blood had stopped circulating inside them. Her heart had stopped beating long ago. You knew you couldn’t have saved her even if you’d tried.

Counterfactual thinking. You sighed. At this point, you really were turning into the patient.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, paying no mind to the way its soft edges cut into your skin. Countless what-ifs pried into your brain. You covered your ears with both hands, attempting to shut it off. If only your brain could shut up.

A familiar pang resonated in your temples. Your head began to throb violently—just as it had before you went up the stairs of Caroline’s bungalow. Those thoughts weren’t as evil as you’d made them up to be. If only you hadn’t looked. If only you’d stopped and messaged Caleb instead. Then, you wouldn’t have to be involved in such a complex scandal. Paired with the recent discovery—your recent loss—the whole situation, you were afraid, was going to render you completely mentally senile. Just like Anne.

Anne. The moment you’d gazed upon her—all shrivelled up and curled into a ball at the side of the black couch you’d owned in your previous office—you felt a sense of sympathy you’d never felt before. Something about her resonated with you. Her whimpering eyes, her clammy hands, her knitted brows, or the dimming fire that had blued years ago crackling in her eyes. You didn’t know which of those had piqued your curiosity. Something about that woman, so gorgeously broken, sparked something within you.

Perhaps, it was her eyes. Those dread-filled eyes that bore into yours. The spark that ignited when she saw you. The hope she’d regained upon your visage. Like she’d been starved of a true friend for millennia, and you were the one meant to be the ailment to her wounds. She’d looked at you like a newborn gazing upon its mother—its protector, saviour from the cruelty of the world. She looked at you with… hope. And in your heart, you swore to protect her. To be the one to show her the beauties of life, and to guide her onto a path of bliss and tranquility so she could return to the life she once had.

And what did you do?

You failed her.

The dread that tingled your limbs that day was the same one that numbed it now. That horrid purple, fanged beast. When the detective knocked on your office door in a delirious state, and had brought to you the news of Anne’s attempt, you couldn’t move. The air lumped in your trachea, refusing to release, as if your body itself had decided you were unworthy of life, and your fingers went cold. You almost fell to your knees, unable to rush to Anne’s side immediately. She was not dead yet. She was alive, blinking, here. And that only made it worse—how would you face her? You couldn’t bear to see the look in her eyes deform from hope to animosity as she looked at you one last time. You couldn’t let the one who abandoned her be the last person she saw, felt, and breathed.

So, you didn’t go.

Shortly after, a messenger knocked on your door. His knocks were calm, unhurried, as if the weight of everything had already settled into his heart. He brought the news, low and steady, that Anne Lotte had breathed her last.

The first tear fell from your eye. You’d cried for her before, and you would do it again. The first time, you wept silently because she couldn’t. And the next time, you wept out of your own free will. Because nobody was there to mourn her death.

Anne had an empty funeral. Abandoned by all, loved by none.

Caroline’s death was only a reminder of your past shortcomings, a visceral punch to the gut, the reality that life and death were beyond your control, and that even you couldn’t shoo the poison away from eating at your patient’s brain.

You couldn’t even save yourself.

You failed as a psychotherapist, as a human, as an organism.

A type of survivor’s guilt. You bit your bottom lip, tearing at the dry skin coating it. The migraines worsened. Drowning in your thoughts, you failed to process the shift in weight beside you as another figure seated himself on the couch.

“I re-heated the cocoa. Come. You have to eat.” With unnerving gentleness, Caleb lifted your body off the couch and brought the mug to your lips. Defeated, you gently sipped. You winced as the hot liquid seared your tongue. “Too hot?” he cooed before setting it down on the glass coffee table. Even then, his arms never left you. Cautiously, as if to not scare you away, he positioned you on his lap and began to run soft circles on your back. You melted into his touch. As much as you hated to admit, he knew exactly what to do to help you feel at ease and lift your mood just enough.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, and suddenly, the world reverted 15 years back. A young girl sat atop a boy’s lap, whimpering, sniffling as she rubbed her tears and snot onto the boy’s shirt. But he didn’t seem to mind. He only hummed a soothing tune and cradled her head tenderly. “They said the cat deserved to die,” the girl choked a sob, “Tell me it didn’t, Caleb, tell me!”

A small smile graced your lips at the memory. Back then, and even now, only to him could you lift the dam and let your tears flow free. Only in his embrace could you breathe once more, and only here did you truly feel at home.

If you’d lost your memories, you’d just want to stay here forever. By his side. In his arms.

But you couldn’t forget. A part of you wished you could.

Rain pattered against the windows—its sound being the only one besides your breaths intertwined with his. His fingers found their way to your wrist, pressing down gently on your pulse point and watching as the fragile vein beat. A content sigh passed his lips. But something about it irked you. How could he be so calm when the colleague he’d shown so much care for yesterday night wound up dead? You suppressed your anger. Blowing up on him wouldn’t fix anything. In fact, you’d only end up pushing away the ones who cared for you. You knew you couldn’t cope without him.

A warm, smooth object pressed against your lips. The scent of chocolate filled your senses, and for the first time, your mouth watered. Your stomach growled in response, as if it had awoken from a long slumber—empty and unfulfilled.

"Drink up," Caleb hummed. "And then, I'll tuck you in."

You opened your mouth and slowly sipped the hot cocoa. The warm, fudgy liquid enveloped your tongue. Saccharine bursts of flavour erupted in your mouth. Steadily, his hands guided you to slurp up the entire mug, granting you occasional breaks to collect yourself in between. His demeanour was gentle, unhurried.

The butterflies in your stomach stirred from their dormancy, flitting about once more. It was an odd sensation—the serenity of butterflies mingled with the bitterness of guilt, resentment, and anger. A combination never meant to exist.

The next thunderclap sent a jolt of pain through your skull. You gripped your head and winced. Taking note of your discomfort, Caleb pressed his fingers against your aching temples.

"You should really get some rest."

"I tried. I can't sleep."

"I'll get you a sleeping pill."

Your brows furrowed. How could you trust him with medicine after that? Nonetheless, he had a point—if you didn’t sleep now, the weight of your burden would end up crushing you into smithereens. Sighing, you nodded.

Caleb disappeared into the darkness before returning with a bottle of medicine. He scurried over to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and was back at your side shortly after. You plucked the bottle from his hands and inspected the label. Ibuprofen. You eyed him warily.

"Your head’s killing you, right?"

"And the sleep medicine?"

He opened his palm to reveal a relatively large pill. You cocked an eyebrow. Since when were sleeping pills that large? Maybe it was a stronger dosage.

You swallowed the ibuprofen before turning to the pill resting in his palm. Your eyes narrowed. Carefully, as if handling a radioactive sample, you pinched the pill between your fingers and brought it to your nose. You sniffed. A strong medicinal scent.

This wasn’t a sleeping pill.

A sharp breath. Your shoulders slumped. Suddenly relaxed, you calmly returned the pill to Caleb’s hand. He stared at you with half-lidded eyes.

"A predetermined provocation. You knew I’d catch on." An empty smile graced your lips. A breathless laugh followed. "You know I know a lot about medicine. This was no attempt to drug me." Your sharp glare met his violet hues. "You deliberately planned this."

Caleb curled his fist and placed the pill on the glass table alongside the water. "I was tired," he mused, "of dancing along as we played this stupid game."

"Oh," you lifted your head and smirked. "No, you were enjoying every part of this. Playing with me, driving me to the edge."

"I had to." His fists curled. "You were being a brat. You thought I wouldn’t catch on, right? But your relaxed composure gave it away."

Crossing your arms, you let out a huff. "I—"

Before you could finish, Caleb pressed on. "You were conspiring against me. Treating me like some damn lab experiment. Is that all I am to you? A deranged patient in need of saving? Another victim of the fleet?" He looked up at you, genuine hurt lacing his eyes. You gulped.

"You were studying that case all day in my bedroom while I was away, you—"

"You spied on me," you retorted. "Twice. First, with my personal information, and again, with your damn cameras!"

Caleb’s teeth sank into the plush of his bottom lip.

With eyes blazing with unrestrained emotion, you went on. "Last time, you actually drugged me. Kept me captive for three days. Threatened me. Terrified me out of my mind! And you try to insist you're above a deranged patient? You’re delusional and in need of help. I wanted to help you. I wanted to bring you back."

If Caleb had ears, they’d be lying flat against his head right now.

Your heart withered with guilt. You knew you shouldn’t have called him a deranged patient. But even then, his reaction wasn’t a response to that insult—it was something deeper. It emerged from the darkest recesses of his mind, the parts even you could never access.

Had you gone too far?

"Was it," his lips trembled, "was it all a lie? What you said in the car? That you were willing to make peace with the new versions of ourselves?"

"You know that to be a lie very well."

"You’re wrong." He lifted himself onto his feet. "I trusted you. I trusted in us."

"There was no us!" You lashed out, overwhelmed by the sheer force of emotions that inevitably laced your tone. "I’ve been alone ever since you left me—us—for the DAA! Ever since you blew yourself up with Grandma!"

You watched as Caleb clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. You’d struck a nerve. It was enough. You got the reaction you wanted, but you couldn’t stop. Not when he was finally listening to you, looking at you—truly looking. For the first time in years, you could tell him how you felt.

And so, the words kept tumbling out of your mouth like an unstoppable avalanche—cold, all-consuming, and doomed to self-annihilate.

"I didn’t talk to anyone. For years after you left, I shut myself off. I found solace in my patients’ despair because you were never there!"

You looked up. His eyes were glued to his feet, his clenched fists trembling. Darkness overcast his face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, much less how he felt. You searched his face for a sign—anything. Anger, resentment, agony, indifference, tears, or a smile. But you found nothing. It was all hidden away behind that invisible veil. Another mask.

You gritted your teeth. It only fuelled your rage further. At that moment, you wished you could tear open his skull and peer inside his mind.

"And you know what? I was such a fool. When I saw you again, I was willing to forgive your every flaw! I was willing to forget and move on with you. But guess what? The man I was madly in love with since high school had become so intoxicated by his newfound power and authority," you spat the last words with venom, "that he’d forgotten of my existence entirely! And still, I trusted you nonetheless! I thought it was my shortcomings when you were the insane one!"

"You…" Caleb lifted his head. The darkness dissipated from his face, only to be replaced with a flicker of hope. "You loved me?"

You slapped your palm against your face and threw yourself onto the couch, oblivious to how painfully you'd bumped your leg. You couldn’t believe you’d said that. Stupid, stupid.

"Why else would I be so obsessed with bringing you back?"

In a flash, Caleb was on his knees before you, bringing your palms together and pressing them against his chest. His heart pounded with fervour. His eyes gleamed with something raw, something terrifyingly close to unraveling. This was no act.

"Caleb…" You spoke his name with such softness, he gulped. "What are you doing? Get up—"

"You loved me." His grip tightened. "Do you still feel that way? Do we have a chance?"

The loudest bolt of lightning ripped through the stormy clouds. You turned your gaze to the tempest outside.

"I don’t think so, Caleb."

"I’ll make this right. Let’s live together."

"Caleb…"

"I’ll return your position as a criminologist. You can work under the fleet. You’ll have a better salary and a better working environment. And if you don’t want that, I’ll move the whole clinic here."

"Ca—"

"You like lively atmospheres, right? We’ll decorate this house. Or we can move to a new one. It’ll have the largest windows and the warmest winds. I’ll build you a garden full of your most treasured flowers, in a place far away where nobody will find us."

You tensed. A tremor rippled through you, but Caleb didn’t seem to notice. And if he did, he didn’t care. His eyes gleamed with desperation, restraint, and a love-fuelled mania that terrified you. Yearning. Could a mere emotion become so haunting? So intense?

"Let’s rebuild our life. We can be married. Have a bunch of kids, or not. If it’s what you want, we can take it slow. One step at a time. Just…" He nuzzled both your hands, his eyes lingering on the bracelet. "Just be by my side. You’ll never have to be alone again."

"Caleb."

You affirmed firmly, making him halt mid-sentence. His brows furrowed noticeably. A flicker of anger ignited in his eyes.

"You’ve gone too far. I can’t be with you."

You retracted your hands. The frown deepened on his lips as the absence of your warmth settled in. Gone was the adoration. Only wrath remained where it once was. He acted as if you’d stabbed him in the back, as if you’d plucked the feathers from his bionic wings and crushed them before his eyes. Faster than he’d knelt by your side, Caleb sprang to his feet and caged you within the couch. A familiar scenario. Your mind raced.

"You just don’t understand, do you?"

You averted your eyes. He forced your head parallel to his with a firm grip, ensuring your gaze remained locked onto his. You squirmed under the inferno alight within them. Whatever swirled inside was darker, crueler, and far more monstrous than anything you’d faced in the past few days. It was far more ruthless than what had lurked the last time you found yourself pinned to the couch. Honestly, it truly terrified you. Even in Harrison’s frantic eyes, you hadn’t spotted such ferocity.

"I’ve given up my life, my heart, and a limb for your sake. You breathe today because I sacrificed my breaths in your stead."

You thrashed against him, trying to pry your face from his grasp, but nothing worked. He loomed over you with monstrous strength.

"What? Weren’t you wondering what happened after the explosion? I’ll tell you, alright? If you give me something of yours."

Mustering all the strength you could, you barely managed to knock the behemoth of a man off you. As if regaining his self-control, Caleb eyed his hands before turning to you. The mania in his gaze dissipated, leaving only that desperate yearning.

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

"Pip—"

"I’m leaving Skyhaven." You picked yourself up and stormed off into your—well, his room. "Try to stop me, and I’ll show you hell."

And with that, you slammed the door shut.

That night, while Caleb had (not so) blissfully stashed himself away in his temporary room, you gathered your things and silently fled the estate.

Before walking out the front door, you spared one last glance at the empty house. You eyed the barren shelves, devoid of colour or antiques, the dim lights that were rarely granted the opportunity to welcome any host, and the uninspiring grey paint coating his solid walls.

Perhaps these walls were meant to imprison him, not you. Beyond any shadow of a doubt, Caleb had suffered—immensely. But you couldn’t let him drag you into the sizzling depths with him. He may have abandoned joy, but you would not. You would return to Linkon, maybe flee to another city nearby, and leave your past behind in pursuit of a joyous future—a future where, this time, you would be in control, not your listless feelings from decades ago.

You yearned to take another look, to glimpse his slumbering, pained face one more time before departing. But a saying from a precious individual circled in your mind: Don’t look back at me. If you do, it’ll be more difficult to leave.

Or, in other words, do not look back before leaving. If you do, you will be bound to them eternally—heart and soul. That was what he meant back then, wasn’t it?

With a relieved smile, you stepped out the door and into a new beginning.

“Goodbye, Caleb,” you murmured under your breath. “I love you.”

But in actions, I always look back.

There were only a few trains active at night. As a result, the station was relatively quiet, save for the occasional sweep sweep of the cleaning lady’s brush or the robotic echo of the AI announcing the next rides. The aged cleaning lady eyed you suspiciously. Perhaps you were suspicious—a woman sitting all by herself at a station at eleven at night, with barely any luggage to accompany her. You clearly weren’t mourning or panicked, so it likely wasn’t an emergency you had to return to.

Even then, the way her gaze kept returning to you was… odd.

Ding!

You fished through your pockets and retrieved your phone. Had Caleb caught wind of your absence? No. Odd. It wasn’t Caleb.

It was Rhys.

You quickly opened his chat and skimmed through his messages. A sinking feeling settled in your gut.

"Miss," he hastily followed, "you’re on the news."

You stilled. Why would you be on the news? Surely, a woman alone at a train station at night wasn’t such a revolutionary event that it had lured in the mass media?

"?" you typed back. "I’m famous now?"

"It’s no joke. Look."

A video file popped up. The thumbnail appeared to be Rhys’ TV. You could spot a snippet of his wife from one of the corners.

The throbbing ache in your head returned, begging you not to click on the file. Alas, your curiosity took hold of you, and your fingers hovered above the play button.

Hesitantly, it met the screen.

The woman announcing the news spoke your name. You immediately lowered the volume.

Your name. Your full name. Something was wrong.

"A suspect has been found." She said your name again. "Skyhaven authorities are actively searching for the suspect in connection with Caroline Mayday’s death. According to local reports, the individual was seen near the estate a day prior to the incident."

You slapped your clammy palm onto your mouth to silence the gasp that was about to escape your lips. The only person you had met that day was Rhys. Surely, there had been some sort of mistake. Surely, you hadn’t murdered a woman whose address you weren’t even aware of.

"Evidence, including fingerprint analysis and multiple witness testimonies, has linked the suspect to the scene."

Testimonies? Witnesses? Had people perceived a ghost? How could they have witnessed a woman who wasn’t even there?

Your hand stilled. Suddenly, the thoughts in your brain quieted, leaving nothing but unnerving, unmoving silence. The gears turned in your head. And then, it all made sense.

Caleb. Utilising his authority.

That bastard.

"A search warrant has been issued, and officials confirm that she will soon be taken in for questioning before the court of law."

Shit.

Shit.

You turned off the video and returned to the chat. Rhys had sent another message.

"Miss, you have to leave. I’ll get you tickets to Linkon."

"No need," you typed back. "I’m at the station. I was just about to leave anyway."

After a brief pause, you asked, "Rhys, do you believe I’m guilty?"

For a moment, he didn’t reply, leaving you on seen. Your body stiffened. If he didn’t believe you…

"No. We were at the café right about the time the witnesses claimed to have spotted you. And even if you weren’t, well, how do I put this nicely? Miss, you don’t have the balls."

Despite his half-insult, you couldn’t help but smile. At the very least, there was somebody who trusted you.

"I know it was that colonel’s doing. He isn’t to be trusted. Please, for your sake, never get involved with him ever again."

"I won’t."

And this time, you were being honest. You couldn’t return to him. Not after this.

"Stay safe, Rhys. If I’m not caught and executed, I promise you, we will meet again."

The train rolled into the station. Its wheels hissed against the cold metal rails.

You had to leave, now.

A handful of people lined up against the entrance. Some of them had their faces glued to their phones. Could they be watching the news? You hoped not. It was safer to go last.

You fished through your luggage and pulled out a cap you happened to bring along, placing it low on your head, shielding half your face from the gazes of passers-by.

Donning the calmest demeanour you could muster, you stepped into the train’s carriage and seated yourself far away from all. Sort of counterintuitive, now that you thought about it. Attempting to appear normal whilst actively isolating yourself from the crowd like a child who had shoplifted a candy bar. It made little sense. But how could you think logically when danger was quite literally breathing down your neck each second? Half of Skyhaven’s forces were after you, and you were practically tethered to a determined fate.

With a slow rattle and a monotonous announcement, the train began to move.

Your eyes trailed to the bracelet clasped around your wrist. Your promise to Caleb. But what did that matter now? It was merely a chain. A bad-luck charm, even. Ever since you had put it on, misfortunes followed close behind. You kept experiencing losses ceaselessly.

You contemplated tossing it away, but it would be such a waste of a valuable item.

You peered from below the cap’s shade to eye the modern tablet displaying the train’s destinations. The last stop wasn’t Linkon. It was a town two cities apart—Nimbura. The land of storms and tempests. Perhaps the storm that had been looming over Skyhaven for the past few days originated from there.

Nonetheless, Nimbura was a town of little population. Due to the never-ending downpour, most citizens had moved to greater cities. It was the perfect place for an escape. You could sell your bracelet to a local broker for a small fortune. You reckoned it would get you enough to kickstart your new life there. Perhaps open another clinic or begin to achieve the dreams you had long since abandoned.

This time, you would live your new life the way you wanted to.

With Caleb manipulating the press from behind the scenes, any chance of achieving justice and clearing your name was lost to the wind. Though a cowardly move, fleeing was your only choice.

You shut your eyes. Oh, Caroline. If only she knew how her death had been exploited by her higher-ups for such selfish purposes.

Of course, starting anew was easier said than done. You still had to fetch yourself a new identity, a house, and somehow evade the authorities for the rest of your life. It was fun to dream, but you knew you had to embrace reality soon.

Or else, you would be caught in the dumbest way.

At the very least, you could put up one hell of a fight before being whisked away in shackles. Enjoy your last remaining days of freedom before he caught up.

Your breath hitched. Caleb wouldn’t give up, would he? He’d comb through each city and town, overturning even the smallest villages in search of you.

You couldn’t picture what drastic measures he’d take.

Perhaps he’d even drain the oceans and pluck you from the seabed if you decided to live freely as a sea turtle.

Wherever you were, he would find you.

Some things were only possible in the presence of power. No matter how intelligent you were, your helplessness was undeniable. You bore not even a sliver of authority and thus were incapable of turning the tide against him. You could run from a man, but you couldn’t escape a whole fleet of deranged, cybernetic militants.

You chuckled at the inevitability of your fate. In time, he would find you. The government wouldn’t protect you. Not when you were a wanted criminal on the loose. If anything, they would hand you over—to him—on a silver platter. Nobody wanted to make an enemy of the farspace fleet. They were a ruthless bunch. What would one insignificant sacrifice mean when it had been made for the greater good? For eternal peace?

Just like Anne, the world had abandoned you as well.

And this time, you truly had no home to return to.

An unfamiliar feeling coiled in your chest—a yearning for home. A yearning to sit across the white couch of your clinic, listing away your patient’s traits on a clipboard as a frigid wind drifted in from the window. A coveting for the warmth of your bed, the bitterness of the coffee you brewed each morning, and the intimacy of your workspace.

This was all a mistake. You should never have embarked on this journey in the first place.

So much for bringing someone back. Someone who had lost their heart long ago.

If only you hadn’t let your emotions blind you. If only you had moved on from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A single tear slipped down your cheek. This was no place to cry. What you should have been focusing on was a plan—a means of saving yourself. You barely had any money. Would it even be enough to buy you transport to the nearest broker?

You didn’t have any weapons on you either. Nothing to defend yourself with. Just you, yourself, and a lightweight bag with nothing valuable inside.

You should have stolen a few bucks from Caleb. His position surely paid well, so what would a hundred dollars mean to him? You really should have. And the worst part was that you knew he would have handed it all to you without a second thought. Something churned in your chest.

"I don’t know what to be when I grow up, Caleb. What should I do?"

You kicked your feet on the bed, lying on your back as you watched Caleb’s attentive gaze remain glued to his homework.

"Why are you askin’ me?" A young voice replied. "It’ll come to ya, pip-squeak. You’re only ten."

"But," you pushed yourself off the bed and nudged his shoulder, "the teacher asked us to write an essay on our dream careers. Help me, please? You’re really smart!"

"Why worry about that? I’m here, aren’t I? I’m smart enough for us both."

"Really?" You grinned stupidly. "That means your money is my money?"

He reached over without averting his eyes from the textbook to flick your forehead softly. You whined in response.

"Hasn’t it always been like that? But still. You’re good with people, right?"

You hummed. "I don’t have many friends other than you."

"But you understand people."

You nodded.

"Then why don’t you become a psychologist?"

"A… what?"

He sighed. "Never mind. You’re too young to think about that." And with that, he ruffled your hair and sent you off.

Little did he know you would cling to that word for the rest of your life.

The train whirred along the tracks, speeding readily through the various stations. One by one, the passengers departed, until you and an old man were the only ones remaining.

Before long, the train passed by Linkon. You watched with a solemn gaze as the doors slid shut. A part of you imagined yourself stepping out—happy, grinning from ear to ear, returning home. This cap wouldn’t be on your head, and your face would be devoid of worries. You would be free. On your way to a new life in the absence of Caleb. Into a new normalcy—a reality you could embrace this time.

You shut your eyes and rested your head against the window. Two fresh tears slipped past your lashes. Home. The word called to you from amidst the darkness. You envisioned two gentle arms cradling your form. The ghosts in your bed would welcome you home. They’d open their arms and tuck you in.

Just yesterday, the ‘ghost’ would have been none other than Caleb. But now, you wanted nothing to do with him.

Now, they had become two fleeting, ghastly apparitions—echoes of the past, lingering somewhere in your psyche.

The flesh may forget the sting of steel, but our minds will know.

You didn’t recall where you had heard that line. Perhaps it was a lyric from a melodious choir, or maybe a fragment of dialogue from a show you once treasured. You couldn’t recall the exact words either. At first, you had only nodded at its proclamation. It was right. There was nothing to refute.

As the new you emerged from the epicentre of a vicious battle, wounded by the likes of steel, its choir rang within your heart.

The mind never forgets. It is a being of its own. A tranquil entity, a lifeless organism so equally abundant with life. It may not respire, but it bears the authority to decide whether you do so.

And sometimes, it chooses for you not to be able to breathe.

Caleb would never vanish. He might perish while executing his unethical duties, or he might fade from your life altogether. He might even heal and reform. But that wounded man lived in a hollow within your heart, a cavity carved out with a knife—an unhealing wound, a permanent abyss.

A dark, bottomless pit you could never truly move on from.

No matter how achingly you worked to normalise his absence, his ghost would linger.

And so would the ghost of your former self.

For that wounded man didn’t just win,

He devoured you. He plucked your ribcage open and fused with your heart.

The burden of exhaustion weighed on your bones, dragging your body down against the train’s plastic seat. Your mind kept drifting home—to the warm lighting of your kitchen, the abomination stashed away under your bed, the mess coating your desk that you never quite found time to clean up. Their images flashed before your eyes, like a boat drifting back to the seas it had departed from, pushed there by a storm.

Now, it was up to you to decide what home meant.

You would make sure that this time, home wouldn’t be a place that breathed Caleb’s name.

“Nimbura. Doors will open from the right.”

You hauled your luggage alongside you as you exited with the old man. From beneath his drooping eyebrows, he shot you a wary glance before inching forward. A flimsy brown cane supported his weight as he walked. You hoped you would never again encounter a situation where you’d need to rely on someone else—not until you reached seventy, at least.

A cool gust of wind sent flyers fluttering through the air before your face. You shivered, hugging yourself a little tighter. An earthy scent lingered—damp soil, the kind you could always smell before an impending downpour.

Of course, the town hadn’t bought its name with cash.

It bought it with its perpetual rain.

“Excuse me,” you called out to the old man. “Do you know where the nearest broker’s is?”

“They’re all closed by now,” he croaked. “Get some sleep, girl. Go tomorrow.”

You let out an audible sigh before returning to your pocket to count your cash. Just enough for a night’s stay, but beyond that? You weren’t so sure.

To your surprise, the man turned back. “Need a place to stay, child?”

You eyed the money on your palm before returning to his face. He appeared wise. From the way his brows were furrowed, you could tell he had seen much in his long life. A part of you secretly loathed these types of people. Those who had seen it all were especially hard to deceive. They could spot any hint of trickery, no matter how ethical, from a mile away.

Your gut told you he probably knew you were on the run.

You needed a place to stay, but your instincts flared up. You didn’t know him. Anything could happen to you in a town this small, and it would go unreported for the most part. This was a matter of survival. Although your expertise insisted this man was no threat, your wariness begged to differ. So, with a polite smile, you turned down his offer.

Defeated, the man showed you the way to the nearest inn.

You followed his directions only to end up at a run-down inn around the corner. Its sign hung loosely, threatening to fall at any second. But clearly, the owner hadn’t cared enough to fix it. On top of that, the place stank. It reeked of alcohol, vomit, and cigars. You’d rather sleep out on the streets than stay here.

Thunder flashed in the sky behind you. You jumped.

Okay, maybe sleeping under a storm’s embrace wasn’t the best idea.

You were on the run, after all. Now wasn’t the time to be picky.

A short, blonde-haired woman sat on the other side of the counter, chewing gum as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone. The electric bell above the door chimed as you pushed it open. In a few swift movements, she spat out her gum and shoved the phone into the cavity under her desk.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She flashed the brightest grin she could muster.

She appeared young. Most likely still in high school. Your gaze travelled to the photo frame behind her—a clean picture of a family with a mix of blondes and brunettes. So, her parents owned the place, huh? A lucky child with a stable future. You envied her.

“How much for one night?”

“Oh, uhm—” She fished through something under her desk. You could hear the faint crumple of paper as she moved. That agility… was she in hunter’s school?

She named the price. You reopened your wallet and counted the bills. Just enough for one night, plus transportation.

“Is the food free?”

“No, ma’am. Only water.”

A deflated sigh passed your lips. You hadn’t eaten dinner, and you were practically starving. If you wasted money on food now, you doubted you’d make it through tomorrow.

Oh, well. A day’s fast wouldn’t kill you.

“All right. Can I have a room?” You smiled, placing the cash on the desk.

She opened her register and quickly handed you the change before fetching a pair of keys from the shelves behind her. Tossing you the keys, she showed you to your room. Despite her persistent offers, you ended up carrying your bags yourself.

Your room was relatively cleaner than expected. Initially, you’d envisioned a room as run-down as the front of the inn, with broken beds and a toilet that didn’t flush. Of course, the room was nothing like the average hotel rooms you could rent in Linkon, but it would do.

At least you discovered where most of the inn’s funds went.

You fetched one of the sealed bottles of water from the desk and buried yourself in bed. Having finally achieved a moment of respite, you whipped out your phone and began scrolling through your messages.

Oddly enough, there were no texts from Caleb. He was offline on all his socials.

Perhaps he hadn’t caught wind of your absence yet? That would suggest the idea of framing you for murder was something he had planned beforehand. Possibly after the argument.

You were about to head to bed when suddenly, your phone lit up with a notification.

You guessed it was Rhys again before even looking at the screen. He was the only one you’d been texting (or, more accurately, who’d been texting you) over the past few days.

If he was texting you, it could only mean trouble.

With numb fingers, you opened his chat.

“Miss, run.”

“You’re in Nimbura, right? They know your location.”

You froze as he kept bombarding you with short, panicked, back-to-back messages.

“He discovered our relationship. My wife’s dealing with the fleet.”

“They’re at our door.”

“Please, run.”

“Forget about us. Leave Nimbura. Immediately.”

“The police know where you are.”

The adrenaline was so deeply coded into your DNA that you’d gotten used to it by now. Only a deafening numbness lingered where anxiety once resided.

But, more importantly, how did he know where you were?

Your eyes trailed to the bracelet. The pendant gleamed under the light.

Now that you thought about it, the pendant’s size was oddly convenient, was it not?

And it was quite a bit heavier than you had expected.

Could it be…?

Caleb had revealed his final card. The ace up his sleeve.

Blood drained from your face. You paled.

A tracker.

You jolted up to the sound of police sirens slicing through the air. They were already here.

In a hurry, you snatched the bag you hadn’t yet opened and rushed to the door. Your other hand fidgeted with the bracelet coiled around your wrist. You hissed. Why were these things so hard to unclasp with one hand?

Pushing through your body’s sheer exhaustion and numbness, you bolted down the stairs, tripping over some of the steps. A knock resounded at the inn’s front gate.

“Skyhaven authorities. Open up.”

The perplexed blonde girl eyed you awkwardly. Tearing the bracelet forcefully off your wrist, you tossed the jewellery to her and muttered an apology.

“Gotta run. Take this as an apology.”

And with that, you stormed out the back door. Rain poured from above, thumping against your bare head relentlessly. No time to equip an umbrella. Just run.

With trembling legs, you skidded across the empty alleyways. Multiple pairs of footsteps slapped against the damp pavement close by. They were closing in. Fast. You had nowhere to go.

But perhaps you could make it to the train station before it closed. There was one last train heading to Linkon soon. If you could make it, maybe you could throw them off your trail for a while?

You bit your lip. You weren’t so sure. Chances were the authorities had already surrounded Linkon—your home and clinic were under their jurisdiction.

But that was a problem for future you. Right now, you had to run.

Mustering up all your strength, you pushed yourself forward, darting through the desolate streets. The commanding voices of the officers pierced through the rain, declaring how they would use force, how resisting would only worsen your case. You paid no mind to their warnings. Only the worst would happen if you were arrested—you’d be thrown into jail, executed by the fleet, or sent straight into Caleb’s arms. And he would definitely rather skin himself bit by bit than let you go once more.

How much worse could it get?

The walls of the world seemed to shrink in on you, confining you within Nimbura’s insignificantly sized territory. All sounds blurred together, contorting into one singular noise that thudded violently against your eardrums—the pulse of your own quickening heartbeat. The heart that once beat in love for a man now pounded in terror of the very same one. You no longer flinched at the bolts of lightning, no longer cared for the heavy droplets of rain smashing through your skull.

At that moment, you were reduced to a cowardly mess of a woman who knew only how to run. She ran from her life, her job, her stability, her friends, her problems, her mistakes. And now, that woman realised she had spent her entire existence fleeing. She buried her troubles in the desolation of her patients, abandoned the life that had given her everything, and flung herself into the arms of a stranger. A stranger who, due to her naïveté, received her love as she foolishly gave herself away.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Or was it rain? You didn’t know. Didn’t care. And for the first time, you let the tears fall freely. You sobbed—your face contorted in despair. Your lips curled into an unsightly frown, your brows knitted dramatically. Vision blurred. Your pace faltered.

Your legs begged for respite. To stop, to collapse onto the wet asphalt, to simply wail to your heart’s content. But the footsteps behind you suddenly grew louder. Your brief moment of weakness had allowed them to close in. You were screwed.

Forcing yourself forward, you pushed through the pain. Your shoes stretched against your feet, groaning under the pressure. The soles were likely torn by now—perhaps even left behind a few metres ago. You didn’t know. There was no time to stop and check.

Then, through the curtain of rain, the silhouette of a tall stranger emerged. He walked parallel to you, treading calmly beneath the shelter of a large, black umbrella. Your heart lurched. You couldn’t stop now. You were bound to collide.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact.

You crashed into a solid chest and, from the sheer force, went stumbling back. Before you could hit the ground, a firm hand seized your waist, steadying you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, lifting your head to catch a glimpse of his face. “I—”

Your body froze. As if your entire being had shut down, every gear in your mind clogged at once. The pitter-patter of rain and the approaching footsteps of the police faded, drowned by the roaring static in your head.

That long, black uniform. Those leather gloves. That sleek cap.

And, most importantly, those innocent violet hues scrutinising your face.

For a long while, there was only silence.

You parted your lips, but no words came. Finally, you choked out, “How—”

A chuckle. One you recognised all too well.

“Are you hurt?” A familiar voice cooed.

Caleb.

You turned on your heels and bolted in the opposite direction.

A flight of uniformed personnel obstructed your path, caging you in against Caleb’s form. In tiny, panicked steps, you inched backwards.

The leader announced your name. “You are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Sergeant Caroline Mayday. You—”

“I’ll take it from here,” the figure behind you commanded firmly. “I’ll escort our criminal personally.”

Hesitantly, the officer backed away with a curt tilt of his head, signalling for his troop to stand down. You watched helplessly as they retreated.

A part of you wanted to reach out. To beg them to throw you into jail instead. An axe to your neck would be far kinder.

But no. They tossed you right into the vicious, merciless jaws of the beast, leaving you to a fate you couldn’t determine.

The world stilled. The patter of rain against the road was all you could hear, aside from his steady breathing contrasting with your short, quick spasms of breath. In that moment, it felt as if it were only the two of you in the world. As if only you both truly mattered.

But those weren’t your feelings, were they?

They were his.

You gulped. Unhurried footsteps inched from behind. “You look tired. Have you eaten?” Caleb’s fingers interlocked with yours. Gently, he spun you around. The cap hung low on his head, obscuring half of his eyes. If only you’d spotted it from afar. Maybe if you’d picked up on his presence earlier, you could bolt in the opposite direction and avoid clashing into him.

He appeared from seemingly nowhere. Perhaps his appearance was also a calculated move that slipped past your radar.

Your final, most fatal loss.

Your reckoning.

You snatched your hand away. “You,” you cocked your head to meet his gaze, “What did you do to Rhys?”

You endured a long, deafening silence. The weight of it all pressed against your chest, squashing you against the mud. Like an insignificant, pesky bug meeting its end under the sole of one’s shoe.

A cold, frosty wind wafted through the atmosphere. Goosebumps prickled as frostbitten air slipped beneath your skin. The chill gnawed deep within your bones, causing painful pangs to crackle through you. Your knees buckled, unable to bear your weight any longer.

Expectedly, an arm wrapped itself around your waist and hoisted you up, pressing your body against his own.

Strings of water slid down from leaves nearby, splashing onto the pavement. Your forehead pulsated—that familiar sensation of dread that emerged each time you found yourself caught up in a complex, seemingly inescapable web. Usually, you’d bear the scissors to free yourself. But this time?

The webs cut into your skin, threading through your nerves. Every fibre of your being was tangled. The slightest movement would cause the intertwined nerves to be ripped out of your skin. A violent flash of lightning illuminated half of Caleb’s face.

“Who?” He lifted his chin, gazing at the sky as if buried deep in thought. When he looked down at you, he did so with a familiar darkness in his eyes. Envy. “Oh. Him.” His frown curled deeper as he uttered the last word.

“Why would that matter? It’s about us now.”

You locked your jaw. “What did you do?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

As if able to distinguish between the rain and the remnants of your despair, Caleb brought his gloved hand and cradled your face. His thumb brushed against the tears, tossing them away as though they didn’t belong on your cheeks, and didn’t deserve to be shed from your eyes.

Not regarding another man, that is.

You flinched at his touch. A new, unsettling calm dawned over his countenance. And in a flick, all emotion dissipated from his eyes. His lips relaxed into a neutral line.

“I got rid of him.”

Your lips parted, but no words were uttered. A lump of saliva knotted in your throat. Your tongue was overcome with foreign saltiness.

“What do you mean…?”

No response.

“Caleb…” you stuttered, placing your palm on his hand, more to comfort yourself than to coerce him, “What did you do?”

His fingers trailed over your own. A tremor ran down your spine at the sheer tenderness he displayed, treating you as if you were a precious glass ornament ready to shatter at the slightest prick. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Your arm dropped to your side. “You… did you hurt him?” Caleb didn’t reply. He only leered down at your trembling lips with an impenetrable mask. Or perhaps it seemed as such to you because you couldn’t be bothered enough to pick him apart.

You sucked in a breath and exhaled audibly. Your head lowered until you were staring at the surface of your mud-coated shoes. Think. What could get you out of this situation? Your eyes lingered on your feet for a while. The cogs whirred in your brain, working, but producing no reliable output.

A flock of thoughts flooded you—irrelevant, unimpressive, shrill, and horrid thoughts. What would he do to you once he’s got you in his grasp? You swallowed the saltiness, nearly gagging at the taste of your own bodily fluids.

But then, a thought emerged.

Bodily fluids. Bodily gases. You smelled ammonia—a common gas released upon the decay of a corpse. But amidst the urine-like stench, you smelled something else.

A strong stench of bleach—something you only picked up once you’d ventured inside the room. Meaning it was present nowhere else. The corpse crime scene hadn’t been cleaned. There was no need to tidy up after a corpse that hadn’t bled. And there was no residue of liquid bleach anywhere within the room. If there was, you certainly would’ve noticed.

“Chlorine.” You lifted your head to meet his gaze.

Finally, Caleb’s eyes flashed with a hint of emotion.

“I smelled chlorine in Caroline’s room.”

With an amused tilt of his head, Caleb wordlessly challenged your wits.

“She didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered with chlorine gas.” You glared up at him. “In gas form, chlorine is extremely noxious. Seventh grade chemistry stuff. You made it too easy.” You shook your head. “Once she expired, you didn’t hesitate to take her out.”

His lips curled to form a smirk you couldn’t shake off. It felt so out-of-place. So visceral. As if it didn’t belong on his pretty face.

It’s an expression he’d donned countless times in the past. But each time, it was a playful, giddy smirk. A boyish grin, more so. The one you’d flash before committing a silly act.

But this one conquered your nerves with an uneasy rattle.

Eyebrows slightly curved, his eyes subtly squinted, a feral glint alight in his gorgeous violets, and with his lips angled oddly. Your stomach churned. It felt as if you were being preyed upon and tested.

Nonetheless, you stood your ground. You ensured that every bit of you would exude defiance, from your visage to your body and to the hairs of your neck. But your insolence only seemed to rile him up. The lunatic look in his eyes deepened alongside his uncomfortable smirk. Your fire exhilarated him, as if watching you ablaze with passionate rebellion was the prettiest you could be.

Like it was one of the many things he absolutely adored about you.

In spite of his admiration, he wouldn’t let you have your way, though, would he?

“A harsh accusation. But,” his hand returned to your face, as if it was unable to keep itself from it, as if it belonged glued to its side, “The world knows you to be the killer.”

“You weren’t raised to be a monster.”

Caleb cocked his head to the side. He hummed.

“Sure it wasn’t you? Don’t worry, you can tell me.”

Your balled fists trembled. “So,” you drooped your head, letting your hair fall before your eyes, “I was right.”

“Then, tell me,” you continued, “How do you know the fleet won’t turn on you next?”

“Once you reach a certain rank, you’re free from those risks. She was merely a sergeant.” His shoulders jerked to a casual shrug. “The media needed a culprit. The law doesn’t care who it is, they just need a scapegoat. A person to throw into a cell.”

“Which was me.” You eyed him in disbelief.

In a sharp movement, Caleb squeezed your chin and brought your face to his, forcing you onto your tiptoes. “But,” an alien, hoarse voice rasped, “I wouldn’t let them have you. They wouldn’t take you from me. Not again. Not after…” You could see fragments of a memory flash in the reflection in his eyes—a memory you seemed to share with him, but one that wasn’t yours.

Normally, you’d pry further. Coerce him, utilise his vulnerable emotions to spill the truth from his lips without having to properly ask. But by now, you’d given up on his rehabilitation. Now, your most vital priority was survival.

“You put a tracker in that bracelet.” A proud grin spread across his face. He had the audacity to silently congratulate you after all that.

“This?” He held up something near his face. A shiny, silver chain with a sparkling white sapphire pendant dangled from his fingers. “You forgot it at the inn. Here.”

Gentle fingers grasped your arm. He slid the chain onto your wrist before hooking it shut. “You were made to be clad in jewels. A Goddess.” You shuddered at the abrupt softness of his voice. Sincerity was engraved into his movements.

For a moment, it felt as if he were simply a man in love, and nothing more. A man awarding his partner with a treasure purchased by hours of his hard work, made only for the one he loved so dearly. You yearned to close your eyes, to let your world sink into darkness so you could paint a picture of your own—one where the two of you were simply a happy, normal couple, living a humble, free life. But dreams were merely dreams. In the end, you had to wake up.

A frown graced your lips. Your bad luck charm had followed you into your doom. And once more, the shackle was clasped to your wrist.

“Did they touch you anywhere?” He gripped your arm. His eyes poured over your body.

“What?”

“The authorities.” He affirmed. “Did they—”

You pried your form away. A visible tick emerged in his forehead. “No, they didn’t.”

“Why…” his eyeballs quaked, rolling about in his head with fervour, “Why can’t you just…” His teeth sank into his bottom lip viciously, drawing blood. “Are you afraid of me? Of what I’ve become?”

If it were just this morning, when he’d sourced you with the warmest form of solace as he cradled you on his lap, you would’ve denied that claim. You would’ve fought back with all your heart, with passionate proclamations on how you feel the safest when with him, and how nobody feels like home other than him.

Just a few days ago, you’d approached him out of fascination. Love, yes. But above all things, you were intrigued. Lured by his mystical, webbed, and broken mind. Eager to pick apart the strands of his brain tissue and see for yourself how they operated.

But now?

You weren’t just afraid.

You were terrified of him. Of whom he had become. And who he could transform into in the near future.

So, you simply let your head hang as you pursed your lips into silence.

The man didn’t move. He didn’t shift, whimper, nor shout. He simply stood there with you. Beneath the cloak of the large, black umbrella. A gentle thunder ruptured the air. The gale softened. The tempest was nearing its end. The grey storm clouds were returning home.

“If you love something, you should work hard to earn it.” You wiped a few stray droplets off your eyes. “If you love me, you should work hard to be a better person for me. You can’t just… do this.”

With slow, sincere motions, Caleb lifted your arm and slotted it with his.

“Let’s go home, then. I’ll work hard for you this time. We can make things right.”

But you didn’t move. You simply stood, pulling back your arm ever so slightly. Not desperately, not angrily, just… subtly. As if your own games had tired you out. Because they had. What use was there in fighting back? You had already lost.

“There is no home to return to, Caleb.” A soft voice spoke. His lips twisted into a frown. Brief anger flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. What was there to say? He knew you were right.

“Let’s go build one, then. We’ll begin from nothing.” His fingers tightened around yours. “One step at a time.”

“My home,” you averted your gaze, hesitant to continue, “doesn’t include you.”

The wrath returned, spreading through his visage like poison dipped onto a pond’s still surface. His grip tautened painfully. “What? Don’t you love me?” There was a scoff in his voice, a forced friendliness. “All right. I get it. You’re shy, is that it?” he grinned. But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Much like a lot of his smiles nowadays.

You stared back at him with a worn countenance, unresponsive to his tease. But something subtly stirred in your chest. Nothing pleasant. Fear. He was at it again. He was walking a fine line between mania and sanity, and he threatened to topple over and fall into the clutches of psychosis at any moment.

Knowing what it was scared you more. Most would mistake it for hurt, for desperation or any other normal feeling in the book. But you knew all too well it wasn’t that.

He was losing himself. You were, both physically and psychically, driving him mad.

Caleb’s smile slackened. “Pip-squeak.” He shut his eyes in an attempt at self-restraint. When he opened them, your nerves screamed. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Either,” a step forward, “you come with me, help me fix what I broke, or…” he stopped. His lips neared yours. His hot breath fanned over your eyes. The knot in your stomach tightened. Tears rose to your eyes.

You should move away, display the last bits of your dimming defiance. But what was the point? It was all over. He’d caught you, and now, the victor would claim his prize. Your soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to your torso, moulding to your shape. It pressed against your chest. Suffocating, revealing, vulnerable—the words raced in your mind. Bile rose to your throat. The weight of the clothes dripping down irked you, but not more than how you felt practically revealed under his gaze.

You gulped.

“Ya know, killing an important member of the fleet is a serious offence.” His eyes skimmed over your body. You tensed right as he caught himself and deflected his gaze.

You understood what he implied. Granting you a swift, painless execution was the kindest decision the fleet could come upon.

“But,” the coldness in your eyes matched his, “you wouldn’t let that happen to me, would you?”

“Smart girl.” He ruffled your wet hair. “Either you come with me, or I drag you home kicking and screamin’.”

The lack of reluctance in his voice startled you, paired with the sheer casualness of his tone. You could tell he wasn’t lying.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You don’t,” he confirmed. “So, shall we go home?”

You don’t respond. You only look at him. With empty, broken eyes, with a dimming spark of defiance still lingering in them.

And in his eyes, you spotted emotion. His brow furrowed, curled. His lips threatened to drag into a frown. He was recollecting. Zoning out on the image of your face, drifting away into the land of memories. Your patients often entered this semi-delirious state, so you’d naturally learned to pick up on it. During those times, you’d simply offer silence. Because for most, the memories they recalled whilst vulnerable and overwhelmed were the ones they hid from themselves the most. If you were to interrupt his thoughts, he’d never confront himself again.

You didn’t know what burdens his heart bore. You didn’t know how many times his flesh tasted the bite of steel. And you certainly didn’t know whether what he felt had justifications. But one thing you knew for sure was that Caleb had to confront his past soon. If he didn’t, he’d lose himself to his obsession.

But you knew it was a matter you couldn’t manipulate. It was not something you could push and pull behind the scenes to manoeuvre them the way they should be moved. There were parts of the human mind that even the most talented psychologists couldn’t access, and if they could, they were not to interfere.

And because of that, most patients embraced a similar decision each time.

He tilted his head. The onslaught of broken memories fragmented before disappearing entirely amidst the purple voids. Just like most, Caleb had chosen to run. And then, without hesitation, he took your arm and pulled.

“Atta girl,” he cooed.

The faltering rain drowned everything—the drum of your heartbeat softly thumping against your ribcage, slowed by the exhaustion biting your limbs. In the distance, the last train to Linkon rattled past.

With a crestfallen gaze, you stepped towards him. Caleb wrapped his arm around your waist and gently lugged you close. The cage you couldn’t see before clamped shut. And so did any possibility of his rehabilitation that you’d initially planned on.

And then, together, you stepped into a new beginning—a future that was no longer yours.

[allfearstofallto]

"You bumped your leg this morning, you need to be more careful," Caleb spoke casually as he slid down on one knee. Pulling your foot against his lap, he raised the leg of your pants to show a small bruise that you didn't even know you had.

You did indeed hit your ankle that morning, but it was in the comfort of your own home. Early in the morning, when you were getting up. Assuring yourself that you knew the darkness of your house better than anyone else, you still managed to knock your leg against the coffee table. But, you were alone when that happened.

"How did you know that?" You questioned as he put a little bandage on the bruise, a familiar apple shapped mascot adorning it.

"Just a hunch," he said with a shrug, his hand still holding and massaging your ankle. Big purple eyes looking up at you with so much care and adoration, it was almost palpable.

XxX

"Only coffee for breakfast again?" Caleb smelled of the outside, still wet with sweat from his morning run, but holding a bag from a cafe that you loved to frequent, "That's why you're so tired all the time, ya know?"

You cocked an eyebrow as he dropped the bag into your lap, using the end of his shirt as a towel to wipe his sweat. Your cup of coffee was after Caleb had left and you'd cleaned up long before he'd returned. You presumed the only reason he knew that was because the smell of the rich beans lingered in the air.

You couldn't even open your mouth to ask, instead being met with a charming smile and a chuckle, "Just a hunch, pipsqueak."

Inside the bag was your favorite pastries, warm and waiting for you. He was already in the shower before you could ask how he knew your order, the cafe opened after he left linkon and you were sure he'd never been. Although, you were sure you'd know the answer.

XxX

"This is the type of asshole you're fucking. Are you serious?" Caged between Caleb's big arms and the firm wall, you look at his phone screen. A guy you'd drunkenly hooked up with was shown stumbling from your house. Grainy security footage from your hallway, you're sure of that, but how did he get it?

You can see the anger on his face, the way his breathing is heavier, smelling the sweet scent of his shampoo and a hint of something that was specifically Caleb. You look down at the screen as the video replays, then back up at him, eyes wide and fearful.

"How did you know we even-" you pause to try to find the words, not wanting to anger him even more, "-did something together?" You finish sheepishly, suddenly feeling embarrassed about your escapades that were technically none of his business.

His hand grip his phone tighter, so tight you can hear the strain of his fingers against it. A look of knowing is in his eyes, a look that tells you more than you'd like to acknowledge.

"Just a fucking hunch,"

[madamechrissy]

Pretty Please

Pairings- Yandere Caleb x F! reader

Warnings- MDNI/NSFW- a sick fic, you're literally sick from taking care of Caleb (based on the memory in the game) but Caleb knows just how to make you feel better. Don't read if not your thing- he's obsessive asf as we love him, oral sex (f receiving) low-key yandere behavior, Caleb being slutty for you even though you're the only girl he's been with, sweet and also freaky asf - 2k WC

Just me being actually sick ( I have the flu ughh ) and writing this as a completely self indulgent thing- comments and rbs appreciated if you enjoy

You're sick, really sick, after nursing Caleb during a really bad flu, now you've gone and caught it yourself. Ever the caretaker, Caleb is gently spooning some broth into your mouth, holding you up gently, his big hand supporting your head. You hate how good it feels, how good it felt laying against him when he held you all night.

You're both too close, you know that, childhood friends forever, fuck you are all each other even has these days, you never want to ruin it, but your flushed state and addled mind make it worse. You're too sick to ignore how good his cool fingers feel, too weak to pretend you don't crave him all over you.

You take a shaky breath as he puts an electolyte drink to your lips now, you wrap your mouth around the rim of the cup, sipping just so, lip print left on the beveled glass. "I told you, Pip squeak, you were gonna catch it, but someone is stubborn."

You manage a cute little glare, and he laughs at it, as he sets the drink down, running his fingers over your hot forehead, frowning a bit. Even with the medicine you were still running a pretty high fever, breaking just a little sweat that's shimmering on your skin. He can't help but think how pretty you are even sick, but fuck when weren't you?

In his bed, in his arms all night, like pure torture, trying to focus on caring for you instead of doing what he really wanted, to have you wrapped around him, to forget anyone exists but him. He is even taking the slightest pleasure with you depending on him so much right now, selfish but how can he not feel that way, when he's so desperately in love?

"I refuse to be sick." You inform him, making him chuckle, his dark lavender eyes lighting up just a bit, mischievous in their glint.

"Oh, yeah? Think you're so invincible." His voice is a comfortable taunt, a tease as he brushes a droplet off your lips, making you pause then.

"I am! I'll tell it to-" you cough just a bit. "To fuck off."

"I bet you will." He's brushing your hair back, so close now, you pause, looking up at him, breath so quick it makes your chest rise and fall.

Why are you wet while you're sick?

Fuck.

"It's all your fault, you know, playing doctor." You pout now, but your eyes flutter shut as he leans over you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss, eliciting a little whimper that makes him pause, kissing it again. "Feel good, honey?"

"Honey... not Pip squeak?" He chuckles again, looking at you as he runs his thumb in a circle over your flushed cheek, damn near burning to the touch.

"The noise you made," his voice drops to a husky whisper, straight nose damn near brushing yours, and your hands find their way to his soft blue shirt, thinking wildly he'd kiss you then. "It was as if... you really liked it, did the kiss make you feel better?"

You nod then, sighing, and he trembles in his grip of you, desire making him ache. "You can't kiss my lips, you'll get sick again."

"You want me to?" His whisper was shocked, you turn your face then, but he presses a kiss on your hot cheek now, making your grip tighten on his shirt. "You're sweet when you're sick. Look at you, weak like a little kitten."

"Jerk." He laughs again, pecking a kiss on your neck, and that's when Caleb loses control, the insane control he's always kept with you, when he brushes lips on your sweet flesh, and you cry out, and he can feel that heat between your thighs. "Caleb..."

"Yeah? Feeling better yet?" He kisses down your collarbone, tugging at the shirt you wore, swallowing you since it's his shirt, and he wonders if you're wearing anything else.

His bed.

His clothes.

His.

You're his, you're supposed to be his, fuck.

When his hand slips down, brushing your breast, he watches your nipple press against the thin white fabric, making him let out a shaky, heavy breath, and your hand slides up, palm over his racing heart. Caleb has an athlete's heart, but it's fucking racing like crazy, you feel it, eyes locking.

"Where do you need me to kiss it better, Pip squeak? You just tell me."

"Caleb..."

"Aren't I always here for you? Don't I always take care of you?" You swallow now, nodding, as his eyes get darker, plump lips parting, looking up under his dark long lashes as he kisses your nipple over the shirt, and your back arches, cunt throbbing again.

"You always take care of me." He moans again, hands sliding down to your waist now, then your hips.

"So let me make you feel better. Make you feel so fucking good."

"How?" Your innocent whisper almost ends him, he's never asked you outright but always hoped you would wait for him.

"Has anyone kissed you..." his fingers drift down until he finds your slick cunt, your gasp of pleasure making his cock throb and leak sticky precum. "Here?"

"No... you know I..."

"Never like anyone enough to?"

"You're... usually annoying me too much for me to notice anyone." He smiles against your skin, yanking the blanket off you and leaning back on his knees, looking down at you as he slips that big shirt up your thighs.

"Oh, is that it? Just annoying?" He bites his lower lip when he sees it, your bare glistening cunt, emitting even more heat than your fevered skin. "Fuck..."

"You're annoying and... clingy and... attention- ah!" He scoots down the bed, spreading your thighs, slipping that shirt up and pressing a hand on your tummy, breath so close to your cunt you can't take it, gripping the soft blankets under you. "C-Caleb!"

"So no one has kissed you... right..." His lips smack as they press a kiss to your clit, and you weakly jerk, body still aching from the fever now. "Here?"

"No one." Your answer ends him, he rests his head on your inner thigh, trying to fucking compose himself, rigourous military training couldn't prepare him for the scent or taste of you- of course he'd stolen many panties- but the source was even sweeter. "Are you sure it'll um... make me feel better?"

"Well if I kiss your other lips you think I'll get sick, right?" He asks casually, pulling your folds apart and breathing against your tiny clit, making it twitch as he smirks just a bit. "You tell me if it makes you feel better, I'll always make you feel better."

You nod weakly, and soon Caleb, the closest person in the world to you, is lapping his long pink tongue up your slit. Your thighs close, earning a firm smack to them that stings.

"Hold them open." That commanding voice, the military voice of his that makes you ache, you immediately agree. "Good girl."

Good girl!?

You're done, when Caleb slips his tongue up your slit now, juices gushing out of your hole, which he hungrily fucking laps up, as you're shaking, desperate for more. Your hands entangle in dark brown silky locks, just making him moan when your nails press his scalp, when you pull, and he flicks his tongue again.

"Ah!" You're shaking, weak and exhausted, like he's sapping the last bit of hydration from your body, but it feels so fucking good you can't take it.

"This helping, honey? Feel better yet?" You shake your head, earning his grin, you feel every line of his teeth against your plump lips, jerking your hips as he flicks the tip of his tongue up again on your engorged clit. "You need more, then ask for it. How do we ask nicely huh?"

"Pretty please." The words ruins him, fuck you ruin him, he grips your ass then, dragging you closer, and starts eating your pussy in earnest, in ways he's only ever dreamed of, better than lapping your soaking wetness off your panties, better than anything. The first time he's finally gotten the girl of his dreams against his face, and you're falling apart for him.

He feels so good, tongue slipping inside gummy walls that convulse as your hoarse voice echoes in Caleb's spacious room, and the sounds of him drinking you up are fucking obscene, lewd, the squelching wetness mixing with his moans as he laps at you. His fingers press into the plush of your thighs, leaving bruises he hopes stay, and so do you, as you're arching your hips up, weak but willing to give him all of you.

Caleb's grinding his cock against his mattress, aching to slide it in, and fuck he'd love that, to take you, make you fully his, but he knows you'll need energy for that. So for now he murmurs - "Cum for me, would you? You'll feel so much better, won't you? Let me take care of you."

You manage a nod, then Caleb sinks a finger in your tight entrance, the stretch and how full you are too much, he grins, sighing, eyes so dilated they're black with desire, damn near cumming as he presses up, finding your spot, and your body responds violently, you feel it all fall apart, almost hurting with how weak and sore you already are, the pleasure so intense you can't see.

"Caleb, m'gonna-"

"Cum, pretty, lemme drink you all up, hmm?" You're ended, cumming so hard you almost faint, as you feel lightheaded, ears ringing when he laps at your clit and presses a fingertip in that spongy spot, and when you do, you gush so much he has trouble drinking you all up. Dripping down his face, down to the dark sheets underneath you, screaming out so weakly the last of your voice is gone.

"Oh my god..." You're struggling as he presses one more kiss on your pussy now, then your inner thigh, running his fingers up and down your slit, smirking as you twitch, crying out with a voice almost gone.

"Feel better, don't you?" He asks, leaning over you, strong muscles of his arms tense and defined, and you feel it, his hard cock hot and heavy under his sweats, as it rests between you. "Answer."

"Y-yes. But Caleb we..." You swipe some of your glistening cum off his chin, flushing furiously, as he smiles, brows lowering, so dangerous then, he's so fucking dangerous. Your body has used so much you feel exhausted, eyes fluttering shut as he leans on an elbow, brushing your hair back. "We just..."

"I took care of you, I made you feel good. Didn't I say I always will?" He adjusts your shirt now, helping you sit up once more, and you eye his lips.

"Then kiss me."

"Kiss you hmm? You're so greedy, you're gonna get me sick again?" You just nod, energy seeping from your sick body, and he does just that, kissing you, and he grips you so tightly then, shaking with the effort it takes not to fuck into you. "God, taste yourself, don't you?"

"Y-yes..." You hide your face against his chest then, as he holds you close, stroking your hair.

"You're cute I swear, I'd give you anything you ask." He will give you everything, in time. For now, he knows what's best, pulling back and covering you again, brushing your hair gently. "You need to hydrate, you've... lost a lot."

"Oh my god." He's chuckling a bit now, eyes bright, and you feel yourself wanting to tell him everything, but for now he's helping you drink, and then giving you medicine, before holding you against his chest. You drift off quickly, and he smiles as he thinks of how you're going to have to extend your trip, he doesn't think you'll be feeling good enough yet, and he will take care of you, no one else can quite like him.

Had a few requests for more Caleb, I am in LOVE with him during this event my goodness, I am down to write more if you all want! Hope ya'll enjoyedd this was somehow cute and filthy lmao.

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @raendarkfaerie @shokosbunny

[lavandulawrites]

Yandere Love and Deepspace Memes

I had really fun making yandere Honkai Star Rail and Genshin Impact memes, so I just had to make some lads memes(^з^)-☆

[ariichive]

JAGGED.ೃ࿔

caleb’s jealousy was uncontrollable and never goes away as quick as it comes.

cw: fem reader, not entirely smut but still gonna tag as 18+ mdni, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, teasing, gagging, kissing, marking, mullet caleb, biting, threats, violence, pet names, stripping, yandere, established relationship, stalking, manipulation, you both have a few screws loose... not proofread rip wc: 2.1k

whenever you returned home to caleb, he was always there with a warm smile and an even warmer embrace.

no matter how long you’d been gone—an hour, a day, a week—he greeted you like you’d been away for years.

the familiarity was gone today, it just felt cold and unwelcoming; something that has never happened before.

something was wrong. unsettlingly so.

"caleb?" you called out for him, only to receive no answer. he had to be here; he never left without telling you when he'd be back.

your heartbeat quickened as you stepped further inside, locking the door behind you out of habit. the air felt off—not in the way of an intruder, but in the absence of something vital. of him.

you called again, voice softer this time, hesitant. still, nothing.

the only light was from the pretty moonlight seeping in through the window, leaving your vision a bit distorted. you managed to find your way to the bedroom, making sure to be quiet in case he was sleeping or was listening to music.

the tension was thick as you seen a familiar silhouette sitting at the edge of the bed; your heartbeat didn't slow down or feel the usual comfort it did when you seen him.

"caleb, i was calling for you... are you okay?" you eyed him cautiously, shadows casting against his features. he didn't answer you, but the quiet hum he let out made it known he was listening.

"is everything okay..?" you tried once more to get him to talk.

"y'know, dear, it's so hard to stay mad at you. especially when you call my name so sweetly... like i couldn't ruin you any chance i get."

you gulped and took a cautious step back.

"what... what are you talking about?" you forced out, your voice smaller than you wanted it to be.

caleb tilted his head, finally moving—finally looking at you. his eyes, usually so full of warmth, were unreadable in the darkness.

"you’ve been careless," he murmured, tapping his fingers against his thigh like he was trying to keep himself in check. "running around, not paying attention, letting your guard down... do you know how easy it would be for something to happen to you?"

he didn't give you the chance to answer him. "i followed you. i followed you that entire time you were gone."

he turned towards you, allowing you to finally see his facial expression. a simple, blank smile with dark eyes.

"you didn't notice... you didn't notice me following you or the looks you got from other men." he let out a humorless laugh.

“you never even looked around,” he continued, his voice low and unsettling. “too busy, too trusting... always so trusting of them.” he tilted his head again, and the way he said them made your skin crawl.

you took another step back, your eyes darting to the door, to the window, anywhere but his face. you wanted to run.

"it was just an errand run...i don't think anyone was-"

“do you really think they weren’t looking at you?” he asked, his smile never fading. “that they weren’t admiring you? wanting you?” his laugh echoed again, sharp and bitter. "it was pitiful to watch those meaningless people look at you that way."

now, he stood up, extending to his full height. "caleb, you're being delusional." it wasn't the first time he's been jealous, just never to this extent.

"delusional?" he echoed, his voice dangerously soft, and the way he said it made your skin crawl. his smile stretched just a little wider, like a predator savoring the moment before pouncing.

"you think i’m delusional?" he repeated, stepping toward you again, his eyes never leaving yours. “you think they—those strangers—are any better for you than i am?”

you instinctively took another step back, your heart racing in your chest, the fear seeping deeper into your bones. you needed to get away.

"they don’t see you like I do," caleb continued, his voice low, the edge in it sharper now. "they don’t know you like I do. they don’t care about you the way I do." his eyes darkened. "you belong to me."

you flinched at his words, your hands trembling as you tried to push the panic down

"caleb," you whispered, your voice shaking now. "you’re not thinking clearly. please, just—!"

but he was already taking another step toward you, his eyes wild now, the control slipping away as his anger simmered to the surface.

you tried, truly, to bolt to the door as quick as possible.

caleb’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist with terrifying speed, pulling you back with an iron grip that made your breath catch in your throat.

"where do you think you're going?" his voice was low, dangerously calm. it was the kind of calm that made your skin prickle, a warning that sent every instinct inside you screaming.

you tried to twist free, but his hold only tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. your pulse raced in panic, your mind screaming for escape.

"y-you need space to clear your head, i... i can sleep on the couch." your words seemed to only anger him more.

caleb's grip on your wrist tightened and his eyes darkened, lips curling into a twisted sneer. "you think you can just leave like that?" he spat, his voice low and full of venom. "you think i’ll just let you sleep somewhere that's not beside me?"

you could feel the air between you both growing thicker, charged with a dangerous energy that made the room feel suffocating. your mind raced, grasping for anything—anything—that might calm him down, that might give you a chance to slip away.

his hand that was holding onto your wrist traveled up your body, rubbing into your skin gently. when he got to your collarbone, he increased the pressure, surely trying to leave a mark.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your face, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you—but instead, he bit your lip.

the unexpected pain caused you to whimper and flinch away from him.

his hand slid further up your neck, and the pressure on your collarbone only intensified. it was suffocating, the way his touch had gone from gentle to possessive, to painful. you tried to move away, but his grip was unrelenting.

“i’ve been patient,” caleb continued, his voice low and rough, a mix of frustration and something darker. “but you’re making this so hard. you’re making me prove to you how much you need me. how much i need you.”

he paused for a second, and that's when you felt something cold wrap around your neck: the silver necklace you gifted him in childhood.

the action caused your heart to speed up. “you look gorgeous marked by me,” he whispered gently as he placed his forehead against yours.

with a cautious approach, you wrapped your arms around him and tried to calm your breathing, hoping he was finally calming down.

well, your actions seemed to only make things worse.

“y-you’re still so sweet, so soft, even after i treat you like this?” there was a vulnerability in his eyes that immediately hardened.

his body tensed against yours, his nails digging into your back ever so slightly. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured, almost to himself. his voice wavered, filled with something unsteady, something desperate. “too good.”

his forehead was still pressed to yours, but his eyes had darkened again, flickering with a storm of emotions. “you should hate me right now,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "you should be afraid of me."

he pulled back just enough to search your face, his gaze burning into yours, as if trying to understand why you weren’t running. why you weren’t screaming.

his hands slid down your arms, then back up, his touch almost reverent. "but you're still here," he murmured, his head tilting slightly. “even after all this. why?”

you swallowed thickly, trying to steady your voice. "because i love you, caleb."

the thin string keeping him together snapped.

he quickly lifted you, your legs wrapping around his torso. he threw you onto the bed, crawling on top of you. "i love you too, so much." he used the chain around your neck to lift your head to the same level as his.

your breath hitched as the cool metal of the necklace pressed into your skin, restricting your movement just enough to make your pulse race with something between fear and disbelief. caleb’s face was dangerously close, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a feverish intensity.

“you have no idea,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion, “just how much i need you.”

his grip on the chain tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you were completely at his mercy. his free hand trailed along your jaw, his touch achingly gentle compared to the rough way he handled you moments before.

his lips found yours in an intense kiss, the hand wrapped around the necklace moved to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, his other hand moving to the buttons on your blouse.

he paused for a second, looking into your eyes, "are you okay?"

you nodded and pulled him back into a kiss, your own hand tugging at his shirt that barely concealed his toned body. he sent you a small smile as he took off the article of clothing.

your blouse slipped from your shoulders, and he took his time, pressing his lips to every inch of newly exposed skin as if committing each spot to memory. "so perfect," he murmured against you, his breath warm, his voice filled with something raw. "all mine."

when you let out a particular whine when he reached your sensitive spot, he moaned and bit down harder. he glanced up at your face, noticing you were biting your lip, tearing at the fragile skin.

his brow furrowed as he brought two fingers up to your mouth, gently shoving them down your throat. "only i can bite your pretty lips, okay?"

you whined around his fingers as he continued marking up your chest and neck.

his fingers pressed down just enough to make you gasp, your teeth and tongue brushing against his skin as he watched you with dark, lidded eyes. "that's it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "bite me, sweetheart."

your body trembled beneath him as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on your skin, his lips trailing lower, teeth grazing sensitive spots just to feel the way you reacted. every sound you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on you tightening with every little whimper and whine that left your lips.

he pulled his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down your chin, smearing the spit along your jaw before cupping your cheek. "you're so beautiful like this," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, soothing over where you'd bitten too hard. "mine to love, mine to take care of."

you tugged on his hair, the grown-out mullet soft in your hands, making him let out a whine of your name.

his reaction sent a shiver down your spine, the sound so raw and desperate that it made your grip tighten instinctively. caleb's breathing grew heavier, his lips parting as he looked down at you with a mixture of adoration and hunger.

"you know what you do to me, don't you?" he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. his hands slid down your sides, fingers squeezing at your hips before settling there, holding you in place. "you drive me insane."

you smirked slightly, tugging at his hair once more just to hear that sweet sound again. "good," you teased, voice breathy, "it's only fair."

"'s not nice to tease, pipsqueak."

"what are you gonna do about it?" you taunted, fingers still tangled in his hair, giving another playful tug.

his grip on your hips tightened, and in a swift movement, he flipped you beneath him, pinning you against the mattress. his hands caged you in, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath hitch.

"oh, sweetheart," he purred, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "you really wanna test me tonight, huh?"

your heart pounded in anticipation, but you held your ground, looking up at him with a teasing smile. "maybe."

caleb chuckled, low and husky, his breath fanning against your skin. "guess i’ll just have to remind you who’s in charge then, won’t i?"

before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, stealing every word, every breath, until all you could think about was him.

bonus:

as you lay in his arms, you couldn't help the nagging thought at the back of your mind. "hey, caleb?"

he hummed in response, pulling you closer to his chest. "you... you really followed me the entire day?"

"yeah, it's a cute little pastime. get to see you window shop and stuff," he said with no shame whatsoever. "what kinda boyfriend would i be if i let you out alone?"

"a normal one."

he let out a small laugh, "go to sleep, [name]. we can't have you ruining your sleep schedule. need me to tell you a story?"

[yandere-sins]

Hello! I've been rubbing my hands together thinking of a prompt ever since your requests opened! ( ≧∀≦)ノ

May I request a LADS Caleb imagine where you're friends with the MC, but you're a bit unsure and intimidated by Caleb for some reason? There's something about him you can't put your finger on, so you keep your distance towards him. But of course, he can't have that so he takes the opportunity to show you how he really feels when you come over his house for MC but it's just you and him? 👀 Predator-pray dynamics with eventual smut would be so good with him!

Hehehe, I am finally caught up enough with Caleb to do this! Thank you for requesting ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself as the light switched on behind the front door.

Visiting your best friend had never been a problem—until now. It was supposed to be only temporary, but recently, her "brother" had moved into her flat. It didn't really concern you who she shared her living space with, but he concerned you. And not in a good way.

Whenever you met him, something felt... off about Caleb. Maybe it was the smile that never seemed to reach his eyes or how you caught him smelling your jacket once. Perhaps it was all just a coincidence when he seemed to undress you with his gaze, or you felt uncomfortable since he worked for the Deepspace Aviation Administration. You had never been concerned with your friend, though, in all the years you knew her, and she was just so thrilled to have her brother back and visiting.

So, who were you to put a damper on the mood?

Fridays had always been movie nights for you and your friend until Caleb returned, and you two had to pause the meet-ups for a while so he could settle in. You were all the happier when she finally asked you to hang out again. However, the anticipation turned bitter when she asked for the three of you to watch the newest addition to her movie collection. But at this point, you could hardly say no since she knew you had no plans, and you were probably just imagining the weird vibes around Caleb anyway.

Reassuring yourself silently that there was nothing wrong and you were creating a big issue about fantasies in your mind, you put on your best smile as you heard the door unlocking in front of you.

"Surprise!" you chimed, raising the bag with snacks and the six-pack of drinks into the air. Instantly, you were overcome with nervosity and slight embarrassment as you realized it wasn't your friend who opened the door, but the man himself. Caleb watched you in slight amusement, a smile playing around his lips as he eyed the things you brought before his gaze fixated back on you. He let out a short laugh before making way for you to step in, shaking his head, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"We were expecting you, so not much of a surprise, is it?"

Laughing off the embarrassment, you quickly squeezed past him, pushing off your shoes as you entered the apartment. You felt his eyes burn into your back, but just as you were about to bolt for the living room, Caleb swept the bag of snacks from you, carrying it for you as he walked slightly ahead.

"And with us," he sighed, shaking his head faintly, "I mean 'me'. My sis is still working and told me to get you situated and to start without her."

"Oh," you mumbled, not expecting to be alone with Caleb. All the worries you had tried to suppress were rising to dangerous levels now. "I'm sorry, I didn't know... She didn't message me today. If it's inconvenient tonight, we could make plans for another day?"

Undeterred, Caleb began unpacking the snacks as he blew out air dismissively, waving off your concerns. "Don't worry about it. Sit down, have a drink."

You gulped as you looked at the previously made cozy set-up on the couch. Someone—presumable Caleb—had collected all the pillows and blankets from the apartment, spreading them out over the cushions, lit candles everywhere, and put on the mood lights in the otherwise darkened room. The TV was already showing the movie title, ready to play, and you grew less and less sure if you should stay.

Caleb noticed your hesitation, watching you silently as you hesitated. He had crossed the distance between you in less than two steps, his face morphing into a mask of friendliness as he patted you on the back. "Come on!" he encouraged, and you stumbled forward, not expecting his gestures' impact on your body. "It's not like I bite! This is going to be fun!"

Before you knew it, you were sat on top of the couch, and Caleb briefly left you to place the drinks you brought into the fridge, returning with two cold ones before plopping down and handing you one. You opened your mouth again to protest, but he was faster, pressing play and opening up some popcorn bags, filling his mouth before holding it out for you.

That's when you had to face your fate and realize it was already too late to back out.

Grabbing a hand of popcorn for yourself, you thanked him briefly before sinking into the cushions, trying to make yourself small and unnoticeable as you directed your attention to the movie. You couldn't really focus, and it was hard to ignore Caleb, who was laughing and commenting next to you. Still, you did your best, not wanting to be disrespectful to the movie or your friend.

"Do you know when she'll get home?" you asked after an especially funny scene that made even you giggle and Caleb snort. He hummed thoughtfully before searching for his phone in his pocket, staring at the display momentarily as you looked over at him. You caught a brief glimpse of his display, noticing he had a privacy foil on, so you couldn't see the notifications. But with a tinge of regret, he shook his head.

"She wrote a while ago she's still busy, sorry."

You put on an expression that said, "Oh well, can't be helped," shrugging your shoulders and returning to the movie.

"Are you done with that?" Caleb suddenly spoke up again, demanding your attention back to him. His voice was eerily commanding sometimes, making it feel like you had to obey him. When you shifted your gaze back, he caught your eyes with his, unblinking. But when you looked around to see what he meant, you noticed his finger pointing at your bottle, and you gave it a questioning shake, noticing that it was, in fact, empty.

"Oh, yeah," you mumbled, and faster than you could react, Caleb snagged it from your hand.

"Can't have that!" he yelled, jogging over to the kitchen. "Sis would kill me for being such a bad host to her bestie!"

Maybe you had been wrong. Grinning a little at his comment, you found Caleb to actually be a bit dorky and much less menacing than you had previously assumed. He behaved just like a brother did at times, and seeing him as just a normal dude was reassuring. You may have made a mountain out of a molehill with your ideas, and he had just been awkward the first few times you two met, only now warming up to you. You could appreciate him trying to host you well and get along with his sibling's best friend. Maybe you two could still turn into friends after this failed movie night? The thought no longer seemed too far off.

It took him a while to return, and by then, you were already lost in the movie again, munching popcorn. For the first time that night, you were more comfortable, sitting cross-legged and leaning back. Caleb plopped down, and you, this time, smiled at him as he handed you your drink, immediately taking a sip.

"Not a bad movie," you commented, and he hummed in agreement. You were glad that all this tension and awkwardness was slowly settling between you two. He was a big part of your best friend's life, and so were you. It would really suck if you two didn't get along.

Sipping your drink, you continued watching the movie, laughing here and there. Caleb, too, sat back after a while, arm flopping over the backrest behind you. You didn't mind it too much, although his fingertips nearly touched your shoulder. Unfortunately, your eyelids grew heavier with every scene you watched. It was like a curse since the movie was growing on you. You knew you should have prevented falling asleep at all costs, but you couldn't. Neither rubbing your eyes nor giving yourself the "stay-awake-damnit!" pep talk helped.

The last thing you noticed before you slipped into your dreams was the feeling of the bottle being taken from your hand and your torso falling over, head landing into a soft cushion.

»»———————— ♡

Drowsily, you were ripped from your sleep as a breathtaking wave of pleasure overcame you. Your mouth opened at the feeling of something hot and wet slipping between your legs, a thorough assault on your senses as it mingled there. You didn't have the strength to lift your head and look down at what was going on, and neither could you stop feeling this way or close your legs, only meeting resistance from your muscles when you tried.

Something felt wrong, but wrong had never felt so good before.

A small, pitiful moan escaped you, and the shuddering bolts of pleasure ceased for a moment before they returned in full force, a long, wet stride all across your cunt that immediately disappeared after attacking. You heard yourself moan again as the colder room temperature teased your heated pussy. Then the weight around you shifted, the ground you laid on giving way to something, and you missed the sensation between your legs that were now attacked by the cold air.

Groggily, you forced your eyes open, even just a crack, but what you saw was completely distorted and blurred, making you sigh in disappointment. Where were you? What had happened? Distorted memories left unclear and incoherent thoughts in your mind that you couldn't make sense of.

"... awake?" someone called out to you, but it sounded like they spoke through a thick layer of water. You wanted to reply with a short "yeah," but it sounded more like garbled groaning than anything. Someone laughed before you felt a cold touch draw over the curve of your nose, down your cheekbone, and press against your jaw, tilting your head gently upwards. More muffled words that you could barely understand fell around you, which began to frustrate you.

"... a few pills... you... so cute."

Instinct made you grin, although you didn't know if your lips followed your brain's orders. You liked compliments; who didn't? They made you feel all warm inside your belly, warmth that slowly crept lower and lower until it found your clit, rubbing the sore nub in slow circles. You sighed, and something soft laid down on top of your lips, playing with them, softly vibrating as they moved, the voice now much louder.

"You like that, huh?" it murmured against your mouth, making you swallow the words as you released another soft sigh. "You like being called cute while I tease your pussy, don't you?"

"Mhm," you managed to say out loud. You liked it—liked it a lot! Those fingers were calloused, but they worked eagerly. If you didn't know it better, you'd say they did their best to please you. It made you feel adored to be taken care of, sweet nothings trailing off the lips that played with yours, calling you "good girl" and "sweetheart". They told you how wet you were for him and how well you'd take his cock. In your delirium, you smiled, agreeing obediently, opening your lips to welcome this stranger's tongue when it came prodding. It was a nice, sexy dream, an illusion so lovely you never wanted to wake from it.

As you ground against the hand, allowing the fingertips to invade you, and slowly working your way down on them, your eyes suddenly snapped open, reality crashing into you like the wind toppling over a fragile house of cards. You tore away from the kiss, gasping out loud as you reeled for air. Unfortunately, your sudden movements caused two of his fingers to slip in up to his knuckles, and you mewled at the strike of pleasure that hit you.

"C-Caleb?!" you screamed, in shock at who you saw hovering over you, holding his mouth with a pained expression. You might have accidentally bit him or ripped his lip open—but that wasn't what you should have been concerned about at all!

Looking down, you saw his hand still molded to your pussy, and as soon as he noticed your eyes shifting downwards, he gave his fingers a little wiggle inside you, confirming your worst nightmare as you felt them moving and teasing your walls.

"S-Stop!" you yelled, wanting to force your hands into his chest when you noticed they weren't moving an inch. Neither were your legs, and you cranked your head upwards, confused, finding them tightly constricted in leather shackles. Those that you had only ever seen to be used in pornos, spreading over your whole wrist and cushioned on the inside. Something that had to be prepared.

"What are you doing?!" you instead snapped at Caleb, directing your focus on him. More than the horror of waking up to him playing with your body, panic began spreading through you like wildfire as you realized you were unable to move.

"Why?" he chuckled, finally swiping the back of his hand across his lower lip, and you saw the small drops of blood you had left on him. "I'm taking care of you. You fell asleep and rubbed against me as if you needed help; I am just assisting you with that."

"What?! No! I... I'd never do that..."

Shaking his head, Caleb gave you the look of someone who believed you were lying just to keep face, but you were telling the truth! Why would you even?! And why him, of all people?! Not even your tired self would seek comfort or pleasure from him... would you?

"So dishonest," he criticized, and his fingers separated inside you, forcing your walls to cling to them. "And here I was, so nice preparing everything for you. So you'd be ready for me once you woke up. You should appreciate my efforts more."

"Your... efforts?! Caleb, this is inappropriate! We don't even know each other that well, and that's beside the point—just stop this!"

Shaking in your shackles, you wished you were a mind-reader. Maybe it would have told you something about his unreadable expression as he stared at you. Perhaps it would have explained why Caleb calmly but firmly, full of conviction, replied, "No," before leaning down and kissing you again.

Pulling his fingers slowly, teasingly out of you, Caleb didn't hesitate to plunge back in, quickly finding a suitable rhythm to fuck you. All while his lips assaulted your mouth, forcing his tongue back in and his free hand sneaking beneath you to support your neck, just so he could tilt your head back and make it harder to refuse his advances. Wrecked by shudders, you wound yourself in your restraints, always hoping to win some distance between you two. However, the position made it nearly impossible.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste you," he mumbled between kisses. "How long I've been planning this, to capture your body and soul."

"Mhm--! Stop--!"

"I won't. I'll never."

And with that, it felt like the deal was sealed. Caleb wouldn't let you get another word in as he kissed you into breathlessness, working his fingers into your dripping cunt. Slipping his thumb back up to your clit, you felt utterly exposed as he teased it with deliberate movements. Everything beneath his palm had heated up, your flesh raw and wet, welcoming him even though every shock of pleasure pained you as much as it pleased you.

You screamed against his lips, and Caleb swallowed all your anger and insults as if they were a delicious treat. It wasn't long until your body betrayed you, your heartbeat raging in your chest as he brought you close to the edge. Your voice had long turned hoarse, your moans all that was left from your resistance while your hips curled upwards, reaching for just a little bit more. It was humiliating. And good. And terrible. Catastrophic.

But your orgasm was earth-shattering.

You had never known it could feel so good to be fingered. That being assaulted could have these kinds of effects on your body. Nobody told you that your back could still arch and your toes claw into the blanket as you came, even though you never wanted to. Tensing in your restraints, the pain was non-existent, even when you fell slack, the fall from grace crueler than this whole situation.

Silent tears wet your cheeks. Perhaps you were too stunned to speak, but with abhorrent focus, you watched him lick every inch of his hand clean, Caleb's face flushed, his eyes sparkling until his gaze shifted to you. Immediately, the light faded out of them, but the corners of his mouth curled higher into a maniacal grin.

"You can be honest now. Didn't it feel good?" he asked, and a hundred different insults flitted through your mind in response.

"You're awful," you pressed out through gritted teeth, more tears collecting in your eyes. "What did I ever do to you?"

At your words, his grin seemed only to widen unnaturally.

"Well, for once, you ignored me all this time, pretending to be uncomfortable despite obviously being very comfortable with what I can do for you. Were you trying to make me jealous, flirting with all these other guys at your work? Don't you know I've been waiting for you to come to me all this time? And as if it's not enough torture I had to endure, what were you thinking wearing your sexy underwear coming to a movie night with my sis and me?"

"H-How... How do you know that?!" you stammered, cursing yourself for not doing your laundry and wearing something normal that day, but who could have expected it to result in this?!

"I have my way, hun, no less since I got to take it off you, at least. But I've had enough of this teasing. I've decided to have my cake and eat it too, even though it pains me that I had to lure you here by pretending to be my sister. She doesn't even know you were supposed to come today, but don't worry, I'll make sure you're thoroughly entertained."

"You... You psycho..."

"Ah," he hummed, but the smile never vanished. "If that's what I must be to finally get you all to myself, so be it. And now that I have you, I'm not sure I ever want to let you leave again."

Caleb hummed thoughtfully for a moment, undoubtedly scheming another hideous plan in his mind.

"Hey..." you mumbled nervously, goosebumps spreading all over your body as his words slowly began to register. "Just let me go, okay? We can forget all of this, and I'll just leave, and you won't have to see me again. I... I won't go to the police either, so can you just let me go, please?"

"I don't think so, you cutie pie," Caleb replied with no hesitation whatsoever, not even a moment to think about it. Sliding most of his body between your legs again, you watched as his devilish grin disappeared beneath your belly, only to feel his tongue lick up the spill dripping from your pussy moments later. He laved it up thoroughly, taking his time to taste and hum appreciatively, the sound vibrating against your puffy lips. Everything inside you screamed to close your legs, but with the restraints and Caleb's body between them, you had no way of doing it.

Staring at the ceiling, you silently wept, the occasional moan slipping past your lips as you wondered where you had gone wrong. You never expected Caleb to feel this way about you, much less act on his crazed thoughts! There were some raised red flags, but nothing that would have told you about the true danger you were in, and despite his accusations, you weren't guilty of leading him on or teasing him!

Caleb's head popped up once more as you contemplated, growing a bit too still for his liking, it seemed. You met his gaze with your blurred one, and he smiled, softer now, but you noticed his hand reaching down to his belt, opening it before moving on to his zipper.

"N-No...!" you mewled, and Caleb watched the horror etched in your expression, a sense of adoration washing over his. The stark contrast of your reactions didn't help soothe you, but it taught you an important lesson: It had never been your fault.

You were just unlucky to become his object of obsession.

"I'll make sure you won't be able to walk away from me once I'm done," he sighed blissfully, his massive cock springing free from his pants, his eyes never straying from you, even when he lined it up to your entrance.

"Even if you want to."

[kekewrites]

LADS Caleb x pervert!reader

Tw: just reader being perverted and gross, reader is going through it, reader being nasty, weird thoughts, horny thoughts, tension

Thinking about a pervert!reader. Being a high schooler and entering a new stage in life where your hormones goes rampant, making you more aware of the opposite gender. It doesn't help how you're currently living with someone so handsome, caring, kind... and so... manly.

Wait- you shouldn't think about your childhood friend like that!

You didn't know when it started. It just happened one morning when you came to the kitchen to eat breakfast, his back seems broader than usual, his tank top showing off his big juicy biceps, and his tall frame-

"Oh, you're awake pipsqueak? Why are you standing there?"

His voice snap you out of your thoughts, shaking your head to rid of them before settling down on the chair. Trying to act normal and totally not conscious of him, you grumble how cold it was in the morning.

Caleb's eyes swept over your form appraisingly, a flicker of something unreadable sparking in their purple depths as they lingered perhaps a moment too long. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, muscled arms crossed over his broad chest, the fabric of his tank top stretching taut against his biceps.

Damn...

Something in your demeanor struck Caleb as... different. A faint blush colored your cheeks, and you seemed to avoid his gaze. He quirked an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Cold, huh? Well, why don't ya come over here and let me warm ya up then, short stack," he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair affectionately—though his touch lingered perhaps a heartbeat longer than usual. 

Why does his hand feel bigger than usual? Or were they always that big?

Thinking about a pervert!reader. Staring at the toothbrush innocently sitting in the cup along with her own. The blue toothbrush and her pink one beside each other, just like those married couple have. The blue toothbrush that had been inside Caleb's mouth. The blue toothbrush that soaks up his saliva mixing with toothpaste.

Caleb's saliva...

I wonder how it taste like?

Your mind snapped as you stare at the blue toothbrush in your hand, your subconscious already grabbed the toothbrush now currently sitting in your hand.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

Nervously gulping, you opened your mouth ready to use his toothbrush not until, the person you're currently crazy about walks in, making you freeze on the spot.

"Hey, did you see where I put my notebook? Huh? Is that my toothbrush?"

Heart pounding, you quickly switch the toothbrushes, your face burning with embarrassment as you turn to face Caleb. You try to keep your voice steady, but it comes out in a panicked squeak.

"N-no, of course not! I mean, I was just… I got confused and grabbed your toothbrush by mistake." You let out a nervous, slightly manic laugh. "You know how much of a ditz I can be in the mornings!"

You turn away, hiding your flushed face from sight as you begin scrubbing your teeth with fervor, hoping Caleb didn't notice the way your hands shook slightly.

He raised an eyebrow, "Ok? So, have you seen my notebook?"

Pausing your toothbrushing to glare at Caleb's reflection in the mirror, you huff in annoyance, "No! I didn't see your stupid notebook."

That was close...

Thinking about a pervert!reader, being extra moody and defensive when you're around him. Totally not because you're starting to see him as a man. Totally not because you're starting to realize how attractive he is.

Starting to feel guilty about imagining some inappropriate thoughts just be staring at him. It would be just a normal hangouts with him, eating popsicle stick with him. Your eyes darting at the way he licks the popsicle, his adam's apple bopping down.

"What's up?"

You froze as you realized Caleb had caught you staring.

"N-no, it's nothing!" you stammered, tearing your gaze away. you could feel the heat rising in your skin.

You fidgeted in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of every little detail—the way his tongue flicked out to catch a drip of melting ice, the flex of his broad shoulders as he raised the treat to his lips once more.

Why is he doing that?!

"It's just... it's cold in here, that's all," you avoided his probing gaze, staring down at the half-eaten popsicle stick in your own hand. You swallowed hard past the lump forming in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Why am I always having those thoughts? I don't wanna be a creep!

Caleb's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied your face, not entirely convinced by your flimsy excuse. The blush staining your cheeks and the way you couldn't quite meet his gaze spoke volumes.

Thinking about a self-aware!caleb, who knows the effect he has on you. His hidden smirk every time he knows what you're thinking about.

Caleb sits across from you, his expression unreadable, eyes shadowed by something you can’t quite place. You tell yourself it’s just your imagination, that the way his gaze lingers is nothing more than coincidence. That the way he angles his body ever so slightly toward you isn’t deliberate.

You shift in your seat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily he manages to throw you off balance. The way his voice lingers in your mind even after the conversation has ended. The way his presence alone feels like an invisible tether, pulling your attention back to him no matter how hard you try to resist.

But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything.

Just sits there. Watching.

You convince yourself he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to his lips when he speaks, the way you fidget under his gaze. You tell yourself he isn’t aware of how your pulse betrays you when he leans in just a fraction too close.

But then, just for a split second, there it is. A barely, there shift in his expression, a flicker of amusement, gone before you can catch it.

You don’t notice the smirk he hides behind his next words. You don’t realize that every stolen glance, every shaky breath, every fleeting moment of hesitation and he’s seen it all. And worse?

He knows exactly what it means.

And he's enjoying it.