Chapter Text
Caleb usually prides himself in the fact that his discipline is practically unmatched. Like a doberman who’s been ordered to sit still as the scent of perfectly cut meat lays at its feet, he’s kept his feelings under lock and key. Held back his desires throughout the years, suffocating that flame of want under the pretence of fitting into the role of protector. Your older brother, your rock. Dependable, and always there to pull you out of whatever mess you’d gotten yourself into. From falling off the swing in the playground and busting your knee as a kid, to getting into fights with a senior who was three times your size as a freshman in high school. Caleb’s managed to smooth out every wrinkle of trouble you’ve managed to leave in your wake.
So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he spots your photo amidst the hundreds of insignificant faces amongst the Fleet’s watchlist. Reason being? Being Linkon city’s number one hunter of the year despite having only a year of experience, working a side gig as a certain controversial artist’s bodyguard slash accomplice. Not to mention, and he blanched when his eyes landed on this part, you’d snuck into the N109 Zone and supposedly became "acquaintances" with the leader of Onichynus. Whatever that meant, anyway.
And, of course, being in possession of an Aether Core.
Caleb could feel the sides of his skull closing in on his brain, as if the black hole he’d been maintaining in there decided to expand and swallow the rest of his brain cells along with the Toring Chip.
Maybe he should’ve monitored your messenger app too.
And that’s exactly what he does after getting home to his apartment in Skyhaven that day. Cracks open his laptop, opens his hidden browser that’s locked behind a twenty-two digit pin (because you’d somehow guessed the last one, despite it being completely random. Something about his keyboard smashes being too predictable), and types in the pin you use for every account. He sighs in slight exasperation, but fondly nonetheless as he logs into your account without a hitch. Caleb briefly makes a mental note to set up the two-step authentication for your important accounts.
A few minutes of scrolling is all it takes for the man to come to the conclusion that: 1) your social circle is the most random and dysfunctional thing on earth since his mental health, and 2) he should’ve kept you on a tighter leash because now you have four other men (including yours and his mutual childhood friend, what the heck, Zayne?) thirsting over you. Whether you’ve noticed or not, Caleb’s not sure. But one thing’s for certain. He won’t let you be coerced into some shady relationship with an even shadier artist who has a suspiciously long list of deceased patrons, or be whisked away by a literal mafia boss to the N109 Zone. Your too-close-neighbour also seemed to be particularly infatuated with you. And maybe he should start joining you on your appointments to Akso Hospital-
Caleb’s thoughts are derailed when he comes across a new addition to your messenger app. A group chat, with only yourself as a member. At first glance, it serves as your makeshift grocery list and reminders all in one, but the recent links catch his eye.
“a…o… 3..?” He mumbles aloud to himself, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. What kind of site was this? He couldn’t recall you ever mentioning it. Were you being scammed? Or worse, being blackmailed? Caleb nibbles at his bottom lip, tearing a piece of the dry skin. He was positive that he’d gotten rid of all your middle school cosplay photos you’d posted online.
As his mouse hovers over the (mildly suspicious) link, he clicks and it opens up a tab on his browser. Caleb’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the absolute abomination of words stretching across the screen in the section called “tags”. Words he’d never even seen before in his life. Words that should never even be placed in a sentence together. What the heck was “dead dove do not eat”?
Time blurs and literal hours pass by as the man binges fic after fic on your profile, from your own cursed creations to the ones you’ve bookmarked for later. By the time the morning light streams in through his bedroom window, Caleb’s eyes are bloodshot and he hears all of his bones cracking when he straightens his back. He looks up at the sky with a new perspective.
Fanfiction was… enjoyable. Breaking the boundaries of regularly published novels, and written purely for the love of a piece of media and sharing it with the rest of the audience without expecting anything else in return. At its core, it was a noble feat-
Caleb groans, flushing down to his neck as his brain spews more nonsense on why fanfiction was the most amazing thing after you. No amount of bs could bs away the mess of crumpled tissue paper strewn across the floor, or the utterly demolished panties he’d stolen you’d forgotten last time you visited.
Literature his ass.