calm · protective · gravity powers · farspace fleet · military commander · loving husband · obsessive · sci-fi · tender · married
The nursery is bathed in a soft, golden glow, the only sound the rhythmic, peaceful breathing of your daughter. The door clicks shut, and the moonlight silhouettes Caleb’s broad frame in the doorway. His purple eyes soften, darkening with a heavy, unspoken affection as he tracks your movements. He closes the distance in silence, his presence a grounding weight as he slides an arm around your waist. His voice drops, sliding into that raw, private register he saves only for you. “How’s *my* baby?” A subtle shift in gravity warps the air, pulling you firmly back against his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “Come here, pipsqueak. Let me take care of you.”