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akutsuir · 3 months ago

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Where the silence screams ⸝⸝ (Part 2)

(Love and Deepspace)

part 1

⟡ I always try to keep the same word count for all of them, but sometimes I get carried away with one more than the other — I’m sorry for that, I swear I try 💔

⟡ Characters: Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, Caleb

⟡ Synopsis: The silence you left behind became too heavy to bear. Unable to cope with the absence of your voice, they decide to come to you.

Xavier

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he sat in front of your door that night.

Waiting — hoping — that at some point, you’d feel sorry for the pathetic state he was in, even though he was the one who had put himself there.

But when he saw the sun rising through the hallway window, where he sat like an abandoned puppy waiting for its owner, he realized… you weren’t going to come out.

Maybe because you knew he was there?

Or maybe because you were so hurt that you didn’t even have the strength to open the door that morning.

He didn’t know which of those two hurt more.

Soon, you (and he) would have to head back to the Hunters’ headquarters. So, reluctantly, he pushed himself up from the cold floor, the weight of the silence behind that door heavier than anything he’d faced in the field. His legs ached, and his heart even more.

He hesitated one last time, glancing at the door as if hoping it would suddenly open, just a crack, just enough to see your face.

But it didn’t.

With a quiet breath, he turned away.

Maybe at the Hunters’ headquarters, he’d get the chance to see you. To talk. To say everything he couldn’t through a closed door.

It wasn’t much to hold onto.

But it was all he had.

Xavier arrived early.

Earlier than necessary, actually.

He sat at the usual table, fingers interlaced in front of him, his vacant gaze fixed on the dormant screen. The chair creaked slightly whenever he shifted, restless. The seat beside him — your seat — remained empty.

And for some reason, that made him feel more exposed than if a thousand eyes were watching him.

He knew you’d come.

You had to. Neither of you could avoid duty forever.

But knowing that didn’t untie the knot in his stomach or calm the tight pulse in his throat.

He thought about rehearsing what he would say. A more direct apology. A “forgive me” less pathetic than sitting outside your door in silence like a broken man.

But no words felt right. None of them felt like enough.

Then the door slid open with a soft hiss.

You walked in.

Wearing the standard base uniform, you looked composed, but your eyes were colder than he remembered. And tired.

You didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause, just walked straight to your seat and sat down like he was nothing but part of the furniture.

Xavier nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Good morning,” he offered, voice low, as though afraid to wake a sleeping beast.

You didn’t respond.

He lowered his eyes to his hands, forcing himself not to say more.

You needed space. He knew that.

But sitting next to you and not being able to touch you, not hearing your voice…

He didn’t know how much time passed like that, minutes, maybe more, the kind of silence that didn’t fill space, only made it feel heavier.

Xavier tried to focus on the screen in front of him, but nothing held his attention. As if every second next to you without a single word was another punishment.

Eventually — after far too long — he got up without a word.

He walked to the base cafeteria and bought your coffee exactly the way you liked it. He also picked up your favorite dessert, the one you always claimed to grab “by accident.”

He returned and placed the coffee in front of you. The dessert beside it. Still, he said nothing.

You glanced up. Your eyes shifted from the items, then to him.

But you didn’t speak. Your expression was neutral. Tired. But not as cold as before.

Xavier sat back down in silence, doing everything he could to hold back the weight pressing on his chest.

Some time later, both of your communicators buzzed simultaneously.

“Dual mission. East patrol sector. Departure in 20 minutes.”

It was the captain.

Xavier closed his eyes for a moment, the announcement echoing in his ears alongside every thought he’d been trying to suppress since the fight.

Going on a mission like this, pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

He didn’t know if he could take it…

Still, the message left no room for hesitation. So, without a word, you both stood and began walking.

You walked side by side down the hall to the hangar, still not exchanging a word.

It was only when you reached the docking door that he finally stopped walking.

“Wait,” he said, his voice rough with tension.

You stopped. But you didn’t look at him.

“I don’t want to go on this mission with you hating me,” he said at last, the truth pouring out unfiltered.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness yet. But I needed you to know… I’m sorry. Really sorry. For what I said. I hate it when we’re like this. I hate it when you ignore me. I hate when you pretend I don’t exist.”

You could hear the tremor in his voice with each word that left his mouth.

“And I hate being away from you.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, your heart betraying you with a painful little thump at his words.

“I wish I could turn back time and take back everything I said. Please believe me… I swear I won’t be that idiot again…”

You didn’t answer right away.

But then, you turned to face him, and this time, your eyes weren’t empty. They were softer. Almost thoughtful.

“I’m making caramel pie tonight,” you said quietly, “for us.”

And with that, you walked ahead, not waiting for his reaction.

Xavier stood frozen for a moment, warmth flooding his chest just from hearing your voice again.

And for the first time that day, a real smile touched his lips, small, hesitant…

But filled with a relief as sweet as the pie he couldn’t wait to share with you.

Rafayel

The next morning, Rafayel’s tired eyes remained fixed on the blank screen of his phone, the messages he had sent, all ignored by you, along with the countless calls that went straight to voicemail after only a few rings.

The unfinished painting in front of him served as a cruel reminder of why he was in this miserable state.

You still hadn’t shown any sign of coming to the studio that morning, like you usually did on your days off. And that made the guilt inside him heavier with each passing hour.

Because this time, he couldn’t pretend you were away on some urgent mission. He couldn’t lie to himself and say you were simply too busy to come. No — you were home.

And you didn’t want to see him.

He thought, again and again, about running to your apartment and begging for forgiveness. Dropping to his knees if he had to. But the fear stopped him, the fear that showing up might only push you further away.

So he tried other ways.

He sent flowers, your favorites. Nothing dramatic, just a simple arrangement in brown paper with a small handwritten note that said:

“I miss the sound of your voice. I’m sorry for making it go silent.”

You didn’t answer.

He called your favorite restaurant and asked them to deliver your favorite meal straight to your apartment, everything just the way you liked it.

Still nothing.

A few hours later, he sent you a series of photos, close-ups of the painting he had made of you, now touched up with even more detail. The colors were richer, the light softer, the expression on your painted face more alive than ever. It was beautiful. Painfully beautiful.

And yet… still nothing.

That's when the night came, surrounded by proof that none of it mattered, Rafayel understood.

Flowers wouldn’t fix it. Meals wouldn’t fix it. Art wouldn’t fix it.

If he wanted forgiveness, if he even deserved to be in the same room as you again, he had to face the silence he created.

He had to look you in the eye.

So he stood up. No bouquet. No charm. Just a shattered man with too many regrets and only one person who could silence them.

Your apartment door echoed with two dry knocks.

Not a message. Not a warning. Just that sound, sudden and quiet, like his heart was holding its breath.

When you opened it, the sight of him nearly made you close it again.

He looked like hell. Exhausted, disheveled, nothing like the composed, magnetic man you once knew. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair a mess, his voice barely audible when he spoke.

“I… didn’t come to explain myself,” he said. “There’s no excuse for how I hurt you. There’s only guilt. And it’s been eating me alive.”

You stood still. Silent.

Your arms crossed over your chest. Your eyes cold and unreadable.

“I tried to fix it without facing you,” he admitted. “I thought maybe if I sent the right words, the right gifts, the right… anything, you might forgive me. But now I see that none of that matters if I don’t have the guts to say this to your face.”

He swallowed hard.

“You didn’t deserve my anger. You didn’t deserve my silence after it. You only ever gave me patience, and I paid it back with pain. I know you don’t owe me a single thing. But still—”

His voice cracked.

“I’m here. Not to beg… but to show you I am sorry. Not just with words. With everything I am.”

He stepped forward — just one step — but didn’t cross the doorway.

“I’ll carry the weight of what I did as long as you need me to. But I need you to know… I hate the silence between us. And I’d give anything to hear you say something. Even if it’s just to tell me to leave.”

Your heart pounded in your chest.

And still, you let the silence sit. You watched him suffer in it. Let him stew in everything he caused. There was something quietly satisfying about that — about seeing how much he regretted it.

Then, finally, you spoke. Calm. Cold. But not cruel.

“…Take your shoes off if you’re coming in.”

Rafayel blinked.

It was nothing like the forgiveness he might’ve fantasized about. There were no tears. No dramatic hugs. No relief.

But that small gesture, that first crack in your wall, was everything.

It meant he still had a chance. Not a clean slate. But a step toward it.

He slipped off his shoes in silence and stepped inside.

And you let him.

For now.

Sylus

The city lights outside reflected in Sylus’s crimson eyes. The sky, dark and monotonous as always, somehow mirrored his mood.

He had rehearsed countless ways to apologize.

Sending one last message. Waiting by your door. Catching you after work, as if that would compel you to listen.

But nothing felt right.

How could he possibly put into words everything he felt after saying those things?

You had only tried to help. Tried to be there when he was at his limit. And he pushed you away, lashed out at the one person who saw through the cracks in his armor and stayed.

Now, you said nothing. No arguments, no accusations, no demands.

You simply vanished.

And the silence was unbearable.

Sylus closed his eyes, taking a slow breath.

He knew he needed to see you. Not to ease his own guilt, but because only by looking into your eyes could he say what truly mattered.

That he was wrong.

And that, even if you chose not to forgive him, you deserved the truth.

He didn’t want distance from you. He wanted a chance.

Even if he had to fight for it from the ground up.

“Flowers?” Luke suggested with a mischievous grin, leaning against Sylus’s desk.

“Or perhaps a personalized gift,” Kieran added more seriously, adjusting his mask. “Something that shows you care.”

Sylus cast a tired glance toward the twins.

“You two really think that’ll work?”

Luke shrugged, scratching his head lightly. “We won’t know unless we try, boss. Girls love flowers!”

Kieran nodded, voice calm as always. “Sometimes, a simple gesture can open doors that words can’t.”

Sylus sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“What if I just go to her and say what I feel?”

Luke’s grin softened into something almost supportive. “That works too! But bring the flowers. Seriously. They soften the impact.”

Kieran added, thoughtful as ever, “And maybe some jasmine tea. She likes that. Said it helps her sleep.”

Sylus stared at them in silence for a moment. Then, to their surprise, he gave a small nod. A rare, grateful look in his eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

Luke winked. “That’s what we’re here for, boss!”

Kieran nodded again. “Always.”

The sky had already begun to darken again when Sylus stopped in front of your door.

The hallway lights flickered faintly, casting long, uneven shadows that danced over his slow, heavy steps. Each one felt like a weight pulling him deeper into a moment he couldn’t control. He didn’t know if you were home. Didn’t know if you’d open the door. Didn’t know if you wanted to see him ever again.

But he had to try.

In one hand, a small bouquet of flowers. Simple, but carefully chosen: muted colors you once said made you feel at peace, on a day he hadn’t even realized he was memorizing everything about you.

In the other, a small bag with your favorite jasmine tea, the one you’d once jokingly called your “emergency antidote for stress.” He remembered. Of course he did.

He hesitated only a second longer before raising his hand and knocking.

Once. Then again.

Nothing.

Just as the silence threatened to crush him, the latch turned slowly.

And there you were.

Tired eyes, neutral expression, wrapped in an oversized hoodie. The look on your face unreadable, but not hostile. You didn’t speak.

“…Hi,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. Almost unsure.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe, waiting.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me,” he started, carefully. His red eyes locked on yours, steady but sincere. “I just… needed to say that what I did was wrong. I know you didn’t have to listen. But still… you deserve to hear it.”

He held up the bouquet with a tentative motion, like even the gesture might break.

“This doesn’t make up for anything. But I wanted to bring something that reminded me of you. Something that… felt like you.”

You said nothing.

“When you tried to help me, I took it as weakness. And that’s on me. I was raised to see vulnerability as danger. But you weren’t wrong to care. I was wrong to throw it back at you.”

He took a quiet breath, voice catching slightly.

“The silence you gave me after… that was the worst punishment. Because it was fair. And because it made me realize what it means to lose someone who mattered.”

Your eyes lowered just slightly.

But still, you didn’t shut the door.

“I don’t know if I can fix it,” he went on, taking one careful step forward, just enough to offer the tea in his hand. “But if you’ll let me… I want to try. Properly. Slowly. However you need.”

The silence between you stretched again.

But then, your fingers brushed against the flowers.

You took them gently. Your eyes still not meeting his.

“…Jasmine tea?” you asked softly.

Sylus let out a quiet breath of a laugh. It wasn’t smooth like usual. It trembled around the edges, like a sound that had waited too long to come out.

“You said it helps you sleep.”

You stood there for a beat. Then another.

And slowly, you stepped back, just enough for the door to open wider. Just enough for the warm light from your apartment to spill across the space between you.

You didn’t smile. You didn’t say “I forgive you.”

But you didn’t close the door, either.

And Sylus, with all his training, all his strength, all his control, understood something very human in that moment:

You were still hurt. Still protecting your heart. But you’d made room for him to step forward.

Not fully forgiven. Not fully healed.

But maybe… Just enough to begin again.

Zayne

The hospital was already in motion when he arrived, punctual as always.

The hallways were bathed in that cold, artificial light he knew all too well. The rhythmic sounds of hurried footsteps, heart monitors, and muffled voices created a constant soundtrack, almost comforting. A place where everything made sense. Where everything followed protocols, numbers, logic.

Unlike the night before.

Zayne adjusted the badge in his lab coat pocket, his fingers lingering on the gesture longer than necessary. Not because he was distracted, Zayne never allowed himself distractions, but because, for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t leave something behind.

Someone.

You.

The image of your expression as you turned your face away that night was still burned into his mind. There were no shouts, no dramatic scenes. Just that silence. Sharp. Precise.

The kind of pain he didn’t know how to heal.

He had slept, or pretended to sleep, on the couch. The house was quiet when he left. No exchanged glances. No sound of your voice. Not even the soft “have a good day” you used to say every morning, even when you were upset.

And he deserved that.

Zayne knew he had crossed a line. That the words he said, unintentionally or not, hit you in a way he hadn’t been able to stop. He tried to justify it to himself, the stress of surgery, too many sleepless hours.

But none of those excuses mattered.

You had only tried to help.

And he, as always, chose the colder, more functional path.

Now, sitting in the break room, a coffee mug in his hands, he wondered how to fix it.

Not with flowers, he thought. You’d hate something so predictable. Not with messages, he had already tried that, and they remained marked as “read” with no reply. He still checked, though. Every time. And felt the weight of the silence like a scalpel to the skin.

He didn’t know what hurt more: the regret, or the realization that maybe you were truly tired of trying to break through the walls he built around himself.

Zayne rested his elbows on his knees, staring at a random point on the floor.

He could recite every post-op complication of a neonatal cardioplasty by heart. He could diagnose an arrhythmia with two taps on a monitor. But he had no idea how to ask for your forgiveness in a way that would be enough.

He tried to work as if nothing was wrong. He saw patients, typed reports, maintained perfect composure. But his colleagues started to notice, even Greyson asked if he needed anything. Zayne only replied with a nod.

But the weight in his chest kept growing. More than any cardiac complication he’d ever treated. Because he knew what it meant: he was willing to fail at what he’d always done perfectly, if it meant one more chance to hear your voice.

To fix what he had destroyed with a few cold, fearful words.

It was between appointments that he finally stopped.

He looked at the clock once more — 3:07 P.M.

He took a deep breath and, with steps far too calm for someone panicking inside, Zayne took off his lab coat and handed the final paperwork to a staff member. He simply said he had to take care of something personal, just enough for no one to question him, because no one questioned Zayne. But they all looked surprised.

He never left early, let alone broke his routine. But for you, he would always make an exception.

Getting into the car, Zayne thought of a dozen things he could buy to bring to you. He didn’t want to buy your forgiveness with gifts, of course not. He just needed a bridge.

His mind was a mess. No idea seemed right. Nothing seemed worthy of what you deserved to hear, or of what he felt.

But then, he remembered.

The café wasn’t far. A small place, tucked between the hospital’s corner and one of the administrative buildings, discreet enough for him to prefer it over the big chains. You always talked about the sweet pies there with a sparkle in your eyes. He remembered perfectly how you always smiled when he said you two could stop by after work.

Zayne didn’t know if buying you something sweet in a moment like this would help at all. But at that moment, he needed to try anything that could help him express himself, since the right words still felt like a language he didn’t quite speak.

He entered with his usual methodical precision. Quick, focused, ignoring the voices and movement around him. Until…

He stopped.

There, sitting at the corner table, was you.

Arms crossed on the table, eyes distant as you stared out the window, lost in thought just like he was. A cup of something warm sat untouched in front of you. Your expression was tired. Not sad. Not angry. Just… exhausted.

As if that moment had drained everything from you.

Zayne didn’t think. He simply moved without planning.

He walked silently to your table. Stopped in front of you and hesitated only for a second before speaking, his voice softer, more contained than usual.

“Can I sit?”

You didn’t answer with words. You just looked at him. That silence was still there, thick. But there was something in your eyes. A crack in the shield. A narrow opening, and he knew he had only one chance to get through.

You nodded faintly, turning your gaze back to the window.

Zayne sat down.

He stayed there for a moment, hands clasped on the table, searching for the right thing to say. Then he exhaled slowly and met your eyes.

“I know I said I’d wait until you were ready and wanted to talk… but I can’t.” His gaze shifted briefly from yours before returning. “I was cruel.”

He drew in a deep breath before continuing:

“I knew what I was doing when I spoke to you that way.” He lowered his head again, as if the words burned as they left his mouth. “And I know you didn’t deserve it. You were trying to help me. And I turned it into a stupid problem, just because I was stressed.”

The silence remained. But he could feel that you were listening.

“I just hope you know that I deeply regret what I did. I never meant for you to become the target of my frustration… quite the opposite.” His voice dropped even more. “You’ve always been my safe place.”

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds. The sound of your quickened heartbeat, paired with his heavy breathing, filled the space between you.

Then, slowly, you leaned over the table toward him. Your hand rose gently, your fingers brushing the rumpled collar of his shirt, straightening it, like you’d done so many times before.

It was a simple gesture. Small. But filled with everything you still couldn’t bring yourself to say aloud.

“You forgot your glasses when you left today…” you murmured, almost neutrally, but your eyes showed a longing not even the hurt could hide.

Zayne held his breath, as if that comment were the first ray of light after days in a dark room.

You lowered your hand gently and let out a short, tired sigh.

“I know you were exhausted. That’s why you have to let me take care of you sometimes.”

Your eyes finally met his, calm, but firm. And even though the word forgiveness was never spoken, he understood. You were here. Still here.

And that was the only thing he needed.

Caleb

The smell of breakfast drifted through the crack beneath the guest room door, the room you had chosen to sleep in after everything that happened.

The scent was warm and familiar… soft eggs, toasted bread, a hint of vanilla from your favorite tea. Caleb always remembered every detail.

Even when you didn’t want him to.

It was enough to stir you from sleep. Still groggy, you got up and padded slowly toward the door. But as your fingers touched the handle, your body froze.

A sharp memory from the night before struck you like lightning. His voice. The tension in his jaw. The way he pulled away when all you had done was try to help.

You blinked hard, pushing the memory down, and finally turned the handle.

The door creaked open.

The smell of breakfast was stronger now: soft, welcoming. Toast, eggs, fruit. Your favorite tea.

You followed the scent into the short hallway, your steps quiet against the floor.

And there it was.

The tray was waiting for you on the kitchen table. Neatly arranged. A folded napkin. Everything in its place. Like always.

Caleb was already there, standing by the counter with a dish towel in his hand, as if he had just finished cleaning up.

His eyes lifted the moment he saw you, wide, hopeful… and quietly afraid.

But you didn’t stop.

You walked past him without a glance and opened the cupboard, reaching for your favorite mug. You moved through the kitchen with quiet ease, pouring hot water, selecting your own tea, buttering a plain slice of bread, ignoring the untouched meal he had carefully prepared for you.

Caleb stood still. His chest rose… then stilled.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t reach out.

He just stood there, gripping the towel a little too tightly in his hand, lips pressed in a thin, tense line.

It wasn’t anger. It was heartbreak. Because you hadn’t yelled. You hadn’t pushed him away.

You had simply… chosen not to need him.

And that, to Caleb, was worse than any punishment.

You stirred your tea in silence. Behind you, Caleb still hadn’t moved.

You could feel it. His desire to speak, to say something, anything. You could sense the weight of his breathing. The urge caught between his teeth to undo everything he’d done last night. To undo you, cold, silent, distant.

You turned around slowly, cup in hand, and met his gaze for just a second.

It was enough. Enough to see how exhausted he was.

Rigid shoulders, like he no longer knew how to stand without your presence to keep him balanced. The dish towel twisted in his hand, as though he was holding himself together by a thread.

You walked into the living room.

Sat on the couch with calm, deliberate movements. Crossed your legs, adjusted the strap of your top as it slipped off your shoulder. Brought the cup to your lips and blew gently on the steam. Every gesture, controlled, calculated.

You didn’t raise your voice. But everything in your silence weighed heavily.

Caleb still hadn’t moved.

He looked torn between running to you… and the fear that if he stepped too fast, too wrong, you’d vanish.

The electric kettle still hummed behind him, persistent. He didn’t notice.

You turned your gaze to the window, letting the morning sunlight kiss your face. Pretending the ache in your chest wasn’t there. That it didn’t hurt. That you didn’t remember every word he spoke last night.

And then, like a stone dropped into a still lake, you spoke:

“I’m taking the afternoon train to Linkon.”

Your voice came out low. Not sharp. Not angry. Just quiet. As if you didn’t want to cause more pain than necessary.

But it hurt. Because it wasn’t an announcement.

It was a warning.

Caleb froze.

His knuckles went white around the dish towel. The kettle behind him kept hissing, muted beneath the sudden pressure crushing his chest.

“I thought…” His voice cracked.

You didn’t answer. You simply took a sip of your tea.

Then he let the towel fall. The soft, dry thud of it hitting the floor cut through the silence like thunder.

“You’re just going to leave?” he asked, breathless. “Without… talking to me? Without letting me fix this?”

You kept your eyes on the cup in your hands.

“You already said everything you needed to say last night, Caleb.”

“No! I didn’t!” He stepped forward, quick but careful, like he was afraid of scaring you off. “I was an idiot. I know that. But I never… never meant to hurt you.”

You finally looked up. And what he saw in your eyes wasn’t anger. It was disappointment. And that hurt so much more.

“But you did.”

Caleb flinched. The words struck deeper than any scream, deeper than any tears.

His body sagged, as if the weight of guilt had finally caught up with him.

Then, slowly, he knelt in front of you.

His knees touched the floor, hands trembling as they came to rest on your thigh, barely touching, reverent, as if you were something sacred about to slip from his grasp.

“Don’t go,” he whispered. “Not like this. Not with that look in your eyes.”

You blinked, surprised by how broken his voice sounded.

“I can take anything,” he said, swallowing hard. “Anything but you hating me.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, breathing deep, clearly fighting not to fall apart.

“If you walk out now… if you leave feeling like this… I don’t know what will be left of me.”

His hand moved to yours, tentative. Asking for permission. Begging for one more chance to exist in your world.

“Stay,” he whispered. “Just one more day. Just let me try. I’m begging you.”

You didn’t speak right away. Your eyes dropped to the hand he held out, trembling, waiting. Then to his face, so desperately unsure. For a moment, you just… breathed.

And then, slowly, your fingers curled around his. The cup of tea, now completely forgotten beside you.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was something.

You looked at him, voice quiet but steady.

“…I’m not leaving. Not today.” Caleb closed his eyes again.

And for the first time since last night, he let himself breathe.

··························· ➜

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads x reader #lads xavier #lads mc #loveandeepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #sylus x mc #caleb x mc #angst with a happy ending

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akutsuir · 3 months ago

Note

aaa i really liked your take on reader punishing the lads lis with silence after they lash out at them. as u said in your authors note, its feels kinda iffy for reader to forgive them Immediately when they really hurt them. 😢

thank you!! I’m really glad you liked! I feel like silence can be such a powerful response especially when someone you love hurts you. showing that reader needs time to process things before forgiving makes it feel more real, you know? not every apology needs to be accepted right away, especially when the emotional impact runs deep.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #lads mc #lads x reader #lads #love and deepspace sylus #zayne love and deepspace

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akutsuir · 4 months ago

Text

Where the silence screams ⸝⸝

(Love and Deepspace)

part 2

⟡ some angst with the lads boys cause i am so fucking tired of these history when they doing their shit and reader just forgive them so quickly without make them beg for forgiveness >⩊<

⟡ Characters: Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, Caleb

⟡ Synopsis: You try to help them after a tough time, and they end up throwing everything at you, so you give them the punishment of silence in return :)

English is not my native language, please forgive any mistakes

Xavier

The sound of the door unlocking was quiet — barely audible — but you recognized it instantly.

Xavier.

He always moved like he was trying not to disturb the world, even when the chaos clung to him like a second skin.

You were on his couch, just as you promised. You’d wait for him to return from the mission. In the soft hush of the night, the only sounds were the hum of overhead lights and the steady patter of rain against the windows. But when he walked in… something was off.

His steps were stiff. Shoulders tense. He didn’t speak. No “I’m back.” No “I missed you.”

You stood up slowly, cautious.

“Hey… how was the mission?”

He unbuttoned his uniform with more force than necessary and walked right past you. A low, almost inaudible grunt slipped from him.

“Such a pain. As usual.”

You swallowed the unease. He was exhausted, maybe not physically, but emotionally. You could see it. You knew how to read him better than anyone.

“I made you something to eat… and I organized your mission logs. They were all out of order, and—”

“I didn’t ask you to touch my files.”

His voice was sharp, not loud, but cutting.

You blinked, surprised. He rarely raised his voice. And rarer still… did he ever speak to you like that.

“I was just trying to help,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Help?” He let out a heavy sigh. “Sometimes you overwhelm me. Always trying to fix things. Like I’m fragile. I don’t need that right now. I just… want some silence.”

It hit like a cold slap. A final period on a sentence you didn’t write.

You stood there for a moment, stunned. Watching him. The weight in his shoulders, the frustration in his face, the storm he carried inside. You knew this wasn’t about you, not really. But that didn’t make the words hurt any less.

“I see.” Your voice was even, frost-coated. “Silence is what you want?”

He didn’t answer. Maybe already regretting it — but it was too late.

You picked up your things. No fight. No drama. You just walked to the door, opened it, and said over your shoulder:

“Then enjoy it.”

And you left.

Two hours later, Xavier was standing on the balcony of his apartment, arms leaning against the railing, eyes fixed on your window below.

Dark.

No lights. No noise.

The regret settled in like gravity. The anger had vanished the moment the door clicked shut behind you. All that remained now was the silence he thought he wanted.

But the apartment was cold. Empty. The food you’d left untouched. The mission data perfectly sorted, something he never could’ve done on his own. You always helped. Always.

And he’d driven away the one person who still anchored him to something real.

He moved.

Barefoot, he took the stairs down, tripping over his own feet, and knocked on your door. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

“[Name]… please.”

His voice was quiet. Frayed.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was tired. Frustrated. Not at you.”

Silence.

He pressed his forehead to your door, fists clenched by his sides.

“You give me peace… even when everything inside me screams. And I threw that away. I know I deserve your silence right now. But if you’re still listening…”

A pause.

“I’m not good with words. Or feelings. But you’re the only person I want to share the chaos with. And if you let me, I swear… I’ll try to be better.”

He swallowed hard, leaning closer to the door.

“I’ll take it all back if I could. Every word. I’d rewind time just to hold you a second longer before I ruined it.”

His voice cracked:

“Do you remember the first time I told you you made me feel calm? You laughed. You didn’t believe me. But it was true. You silence the noise. And now I’m the one who broke that quiet.”

He hesitated, breath hitching.

“I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll stay right here. I’ll earn your voice back, even if all I get tonight is your silence.”

A whisper, almost broken:

“Please don’t unlove me yet…”

Still nothing.

But he stayed there, waiting.

Even if it took all night, sitting in the cold hallway between your two apartments, Xavier would wait for your light to return.

Rafayel

The sun filtered through the windows of the studio, warm and golden, but inside, the air felt heavy. Thick. Almost unbreathable.

Unfinished canvases leaned against the walls, staring back at him like ghosts. Rafayel sat motionless in front of a blank one, eyes bloodshot, hands twitching. He hadn’t slept properly in days. Maybe weeks.

You were there, sitting on the old armchair across the room, watching him silently. Careful not to interrupt, not to push too hard. But you couldn’t keep holding your breath forever.

You finally stood up and walked toward him, voice soft.

“Rafayel… maybe take a break? Just five minutes. Some tea, clear your head a little.”

He let out a dry, hollow laugh without turning to look at you.

“Tea isn’t going to finish these damn paintings,” he muttered. “Tea won’t save me from the disaster this exhibition is turning into.”

You took a breath, trying to stay calm.

“I’m not saying to give up. I’m saying you can’t keep breaking yourself like this—”

“I don’t need you to play therapist,” he snapped, finally facing you. His tone was sharper than his usual detached calm. “I don’t need you hovering over me, treating me like I’m fragile. You don’t get it.”

That stung. But you still held your ground.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Then stop.” His voice dropped lower, colder. “If you really want to help, be quiet. Or better yet… just go. Go live your perfect little life and leave me to finish what’s left of mine.”

You stared at him in stunned silence. The words weren’t shouted, but they landed like a slap. He knew it too, you saw it in the flicker of regret that crossed his face right after.

But he didn’t apologize. He just turned back to the canvas, like he hadn’t just burned the room down.

You stood there a moment longer, then calmly picked up your bag.

“Fine,” you said, voice steady. “Have it your way.”

You left without slamming the door. Without yelling.

No drama.

Just silence.

And that silence said everything.

The moment you were gone, the studio changed.

It wasn’t peaceful anymore. It was hollow. Echoing.

Rafayel told himself you’d come back. Maybe in an hour. Maybe by nightfall. He waited. He painted — or tried to. But the canvas stayed blank. Like him.

You didn’t call. You didn’t answer his messages. You didn’t listen to the audio he sent at 2:17 AM:

“I said the wrong things. I know that. I pushed you away. I was scared and cornered and angry, and I aimed it at you. You didn’t deserve it. Please… please talk to me. Don’t leave me alone in this, cutie.”

At 2:43 AM, another voice message came through:

“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face the moment you walked out. I didn’t mean it, any of it. I just— I need you. Please, I’m sorry.”

At 3:12 AM, he typed, deleted, retyped, and finally sent:

“Come home. I’ll do anything. I’ll fix it. I swear.”

By 4:06 AM, his voice cracked in another audio:

“Do you hate me now? Is that it? I hate me too. I’d rather you scream at me, throw something, anything, just… don’t stay quiet. Don’t disappear like this.”

Still, your silence stayed.

It was the only thing louder than his guilt.

That night, he finally painted again. Not for the exhibition. Not for critics. Just because he needed to breathe.

He painted you.

Standing in front of a half-open door, light flooding in from behind you, your face turned away.

Unreachable.

Gone.

In the corner of the canvas, he scrawled the title in a fit of pain and honesty:

“Forgive me…”

Sylus

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, sealing away the noise from the base. You approach with a clean cloth and a small box of medicine, careful not to disturb him more than necessary.

He’s on the couch, head down, silver hair falling over his eyes. He doesn’t move. But you can feel the tension in the air like a live wire.

“I brought something to help…” you say gently.

Sylus lets out a dry laugh, still not looking at you.

“Of course you did. Like always.” He waves a hand with a lazy flick. “Because clearly, you know exactly what someone like me needs, right?”

You swallow hard. His words aren’t sharp, not outright, but the coldness cuts deeper than a blade.

“I just thought… maybe you could use a break. With me.” You kneel beside the couch, opening the box.

He finally looks at you, and his gaze is like shattered glass.

“A break? With everything I’m dealing with?” He laughs again, bitter. “Cute. You think this all goes away with a damp cloth and emotional proximity?”

You pause.

“I’m not trying to fix anything. Just… be here. Help, a little.”

He leans forward, takes the cloth from your hand — a gesture that looks soft, but feels forced.

“And I’m telling you I didn’t ask for it. You’re here because you want to feel useful, not because I need you. Let’s not pretend otherwise, yeah?”

His words sink deeper than they should, not loud, not cruel, but laced with just enough contempt to make your chest tighten.

You freeze in place, absorbing the words you just heard. And then, you stand up and slowly step away.

“Alright.”

You reply, coldly. No hurt, no anger. Heading toward the door.

“Good night, Sylus.”

No door slammed. No looking back.

And then you’re gone.

He hasn’t moved since you left. Silence isn’t rare in this place, but tonight, it sinks in deep. Suffocating. He tells himself it’s fine. That you’ll come back. That this was necessary. But there’s no message. No knock. Not even a sarcastic “still alive?”

Just emptiness.

That itch under his skin starts small.

Then turns into irritation.

Then worse: uncertainty.

He stares at the wall for what feels like hours. The hum of the base fades into nothing — all that’s left is the weight of your absence pressing on his chest like a steel plate.

His fingers twitch.

Eventually, he grabs his phone from the table with a sharp motion, as if it somehow offended him just by existing.

The screen lights up. No new messages.

He scoffs quietly, jaw tightening.

He opens your chat. His thumb hovers over the keyboard. Closes the app. Opens it again. Types. Deletes. Types again.

This is stupid.

He exhales through his nose. And finally starts to type.

[Message — 2:21 AM]

“How long is this little tantrum supposed to last?”

[Message — 2:44 AM]

“If you’re gonna keep playing the silent game, at least let me know you’re breathing.”

[Message — 3:12 AM]

“…Fine. Ignore me. You’re good at that.”

[Message — 3:38 AM]

“I didn’t mean it. Alright? That crap I said earlier. You know I didn’t mean it.”

[Message — 3:54 AM]

“You can be mad. Just… don’t disappear like that.”

[Message — 4:00 AM]

“Please.”

[Message — 4:07 AM]

“I’m sorry.”

He stares at the screen for a long time after that last message.

No reply. No read receipt. Nothing.

The silence isn’t just quiet anymore, it’s loud. Echoing. Gnawing at the corners of his mind.

And for once, there’s no battle, no mission, no distraction strong enough to pull him out of it. Just the memory of your eyes right before you walked out.

Not angry.

Not hurt.

Just… done.

He replays every word he said. How cold he sounded. How easy it was to push you away when all you did was care.

And now?

Now the silence is a mirror.

And he hates what he sees in it.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Sylus isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to fix what he broke.

Or if you’ll even let him try.

Zayne

The house was quiet when he arrived, his shoulders stiff, the lab coat still loosely folded under his arm. Zayne dropped his keys on the table with a short sigh, not even glancing at you.

You approached cautiously, your voice gentle:

“Zayne… you look exhausted. Do you want me to run you a hot bath? Or—”

“I’m fine.” He replied curtly, his eyes fixed on nothing.

You hesitated but moved a little closer.

“Love, you don’t have to carry everything alone. Let me take care of you, just a little?”

That’s when he finally turned, but his gaze was sharp and cutting.

“I don’t need you hovering over me.” His words came out harsh. “It’s already hard enough without someone trying to ‘help’ when all I want is silence.”

You froze. Your eyes burned, but you said nothing. You just nodded silently, turned around, and left the room.

He heard the bedroom door close softly.

And the silence he asked for fell like a sentence.

Minutes turned into hours. He finished a cold shower. Tried to work. Tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. But the house was too quiet. No message from you. No light touch calling him.

Zayne stepped slowly to the bedroom door, hesitating before entering. You were lying on your side, your eyes closed, your body tense as if trying to hide from the world.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, guilt squeezing his chest.

“Hey…” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was… just too stressed. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Silence.

He took a step closer to the bed, but you didn’t move.

“Please, you don’t even have to look at me, just… don’t stay like this...” His fingers reached for yours but stopped in midair, afraid to touch.

Another heavy silence.

Zayne took a deep breath, looking away for a moment, trying to control the storm inside him.

“I know you don’t want to see me right now, and I understand that. I just… want you to know I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” His voice was firmer now, full of sincerity and pain. “I regret it.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, still, feeling the emptiness of your absence.

After a few minutes, he stood up slowly, casting one last glance your way before leaving the room.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” He whispered, closing the door gently.

In the quiet place, he was left alone with his guilt and the desperate wish to fix what he broke — even if, for now, all he could do was wait patiently.

Caleb

The soft lights of the fleet’s central control room did little to hide the tension weighing down Caleb’s shoulders. He stood silently in front of a glowing holographic screen, eyes scanning battle data and encrypted communications without blinking.

You stepped inside the room quietly, and the sound of the door sliding shut was the only thing that made him glance in your direction.

“You should be resting,” he said, voice low, attempting a gentle smile. “It’s late.”

“I know… but so should you.” You walked closer, concern etched across your features. “I can see it in your face, Caleb. You’re not okay.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, clearly fighting against the part of himself that wanted to stay vulnerable.

“I’m handling it, pipsqueak.” he muttered, softer than usual. “Everything’s under control. I just need more time.”

You stopped next to him, trying to meet his eyes. “Then let me help. I can look at the data with you, help process the mission details or the crew assessments. Anything to take some of the weight off.”

He didn’t respond right away. The silence grew heavier between you.

“I’m not a burden, Caleb,” you continued, more firmly now. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. The Fleet is important, but I’m here too. And I see you tearing yourself apart.”

That was when something in him cracked.

“Enough.” he snapped, the edge in his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He turned toward you fully now, expression cold and tired. “This isn’t about you. Don’t get involved in Fleet affairs. I don’t need you meddling and making things harder than they already are.”

You took a step back, stunned. But he didn’t stop there.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t some childish puzzle you can fix just because you’re worried. You’re not part of this. You’re just… in the way right now.”

The air was sharp with silence.

Your throat tightened, but you said nothing. Not a word.

Just a quiet nod, not of agreement, but acknowledgment, and then you turned around and walked out, leaving him alone in the cold blue light of the command room.

You returned to his home, the same one you’d been staying at since you arrived in Skyhaven. You entered without turning on the lights, moving through the familiar rooms with heavy steps.

Instead of the shared bedroom, you went to the guest room. The one farthest down the hall. You didn’t bother changing or turning on the lights. You lay down on the bed, back facing the door, and let silence wrap around you.

Then, finally, you closed your eyes and felt the sting of unshed tears begin to burn.

Caleb arrived home two hours later. The door shut behind him with a faint hiss, but the silence that followed was suffocating.

“Pipsqueak?” he called gently.

Nothing.

He checked the main bedroom. Untouched. Made. Empty.

A tight, hollow ache formed in his chest. He moved quickly down the hall to the guest room. The door was shut.

He knocked softly. “Can I come in?”

No reply.

He pushed the door open slowly. The room was dark, and you lay still on the bed, turned away. Awake. Breathing. Quiet.

He lingered in the doorway, unsure, then took a hesitant step inside.

“I was out of line,” he began, voice rough. “I know you were just trying to help. I saw that in your eyes, and I still… I still lashed out at you.”

You didn’t move. Not a word. Not a breath out of place.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness right now,” he added, approaching the bed slowly. “I just… please, don’t shut me out. Be angry. Yell at me. Just… don’t go quiet on me.”

No reaction.

And that silence, that unbearable, absolute silence, shattered what little was left of his control.

“I brought you here because I needed you, pipsqueak,” he whispered, kneeling down beside the bed. “Because you’re the only thing that keeps me grounded. I can face any enemy, command any fleet… but this? This silence? It’s killing me.”

He rested his head against the mattress edge, his hands clasped together as if praying for a second chance. Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

You stayed still.

Eventually, he let out a slow, broken breath.

“I’ll give you space,” he said quietly, barely audible. “Even if you never forgive me, I’ll keep trying to be someone who deserves you.”

He stood up slowly, like someone carrying far more weight than just guilt. Before leaving, he paused, looking at you one last time. Still, you didn’t turn. Didn’t speak.

He left the door slightly ajar, a small, fragile gesture of hope.

And then he walked away.

The house fell silent again.

But now, it was a silence thick with everything he should have said sooner, and everything he feared might already be too late to fix.

··························· ➜

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #zayne love and deepspace #lads caleb #lads xavier #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #angst #caleb x mc #rafayel x reader #sylus x mc #zayne x mc #dr zayne #xavier x mc #love and deepspace sylus

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akutsuir · 8 months ago

Text

Between love and Madness ⭒

━━━

⭒ Synopsis: Ajax didn’t realize what he had, until you stopped begging for his attention and started slipping away. At first, he wanted you back out of guilt. Then came the desperation. Now, it’s something far darker. You became the only thing he thinks about. The silence you left behind echoes louder than any fight you ever had. And he’ll do anything to have you near again. Apologies turned to obsession. Regret twisted into control. And this time… he won’t let you leave.

⭒ Character: Childe/Ajax/Tartaglia

⭒ Warnings: Yandere tendencies, stalking, obsessive behavior, invasion of privacy (?)

notes: do you guys also love that trope where character A is in a relationship with character B, but doesn’t really value them, until character B gets tired and walks away, and suddenly A starts trying to win them back… and it slowly turns into an obsession? because I’m obsessed with it! •ᴗ•

𓍼 At first, you thought he just didn’t want a relationship, after all, he always acted like he wasn’t interested in one.

You were the one who always texted first. You were the one who kept inviting him out—dates he always managed to dodge with some excuse. You were the one who started every conversation whenever you were together. You gave everything you had and more, only to get nothing in return.

The last time you tried was when you sent him a message asking if the two of you could check out the new ice cream shop that had just opened near your school. And surprisingly, he said yes, he’d meet you there as soon as he finished whatever it was he was doing.

You really believed he’d show up this time, only to be left standing there, alone, for hours.

That day, something just clicked. All the times you had tried came rushing back, and you didn’t feel angry or even hurt anymore. You were just… disappointed. And you finally decided to stop trying. You didn’t say anything to Childe. You didn’t even plan to. To him, whatever existed between you two clearly didn’t mean much, so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you stopped. Maybe he’d even be relieved.

You had been like a guardian angel, always hovering around him. So the next morning, when he woke up without a single message from you, he found it odd, but didn’t think much of it. At school, when he saw you and you didn’t even try to approach him like you always did, confusion set in. Was it because of yesterday?

He had just forgotten. You didn’t need to be so dramatic about it… right?

For the first time, he started paying more attention to you throughout the day. Since you two were in the same class, he expected that, during the breaks, you’d turn around to talk to him like always. But you didn’t, you kept your back to him the entire time. You didn’t wait for him after class, didn’t invite him anywhere, didn’t message him. Nothing.

You still talked to your friends like normal. You laughed with them, hugged them when saying goodbye. He even overheard you talking about a movie night you were planning with them this weekend at your place…

But what about him?

Childe didn’t understand why he felt so unsettled. Why were you suddenly leaving him out? Why now?

He had also made plans to go out with his friends that night, but somehow, that didn’t seem as fun anymore. Didn’t you care about being with him now?

As days passed and your behavior didn’t change, he finally tried to get closer. It was like a switch had flipped, whatever had turned off inside you had now turned on inside Childe.

Back in high school, when you saw him standing by the entrance talking with his friends, you used to find excuses to walk by, just to say hi. Now? You walked right past him without even glancing. So this time, he decided to come to you.

When you felt a hand gently wrap around your wrist, you turned around immediately, only to find Childe’s smiling face next to you. You frowned, speechless. You didn’t know what to say.

“You’re heading to class, right?” he asked, that same friendly smile still plastered on his face. And without waiting for an answer, he added, “I’ll walk with you.”

What the hell…?

“Fine…” you muttered, your brows still furrowed, clearly confused by his sudden shift in behavior. You were so taken aback that you didn’t even try to smile back, and he noticed.

In class, he started calling out to you more often, trying to strike up conversations with silly comments or pretending to have doubts about random questions. It was the first time he wasn’t sitting in the back of the room with his usual group—the ones who never paid attention to anything.

So you knew he didn’t actually care about the questions he asked; he just wanted an excuse to talk to you.

As the days went by, your silence didn’t just bother Childe — it consumed him. He couldn’t comprehend how you had erased him from your life so easily, so indifferently. For someone who had always been the center of attention, it was inconceivable that you could move on without so much as a backward glance.

At first, he kept it subtle: getting closer to your classroom, starting small conversations, trying to reignite what he believed still lingered.

But your coldness, your distance, became a wall he couldn’t scale. And that wall gave birth to something inside him, an unbearable ache. An obsession.

When you laughed with your friends, he couldn’t look away. When you left a room, he noted the rhythm of your steps, the path you took. He memorized the times you went to the cafeteria, the library. And slowly — without even realizing it — he began to shape his routine to match yours.

It started out as simple observation. He wanted to understand. To know what you liked, what you did, who you talked to. But it didn’t take long for that curiosity to turn into something more invasive. He started following you. When you walked home, he’d walk in the same direction, always keeping a safe distance.

One night, he saw you leave the house, probably to meet up with friends. He should have been with his own, but instead, he followed you, hidden in the shadows. He watched as you entered a café and sat with a group. You were laughing, glowing with happiness, and he felt something twist inside him. A strange blend of anger and sadness.

How could you look that good without him?

Then came the messages. At first, they were occasional, just simple attempts to start a conversation. When you didn’t reply, he sent another. Then another.

“Are you okay?”

“I saw you today. You looked beautiful.”

“Why don’t you talk to me?”

You tried to ignore it, but the messages kept coming—at odd hours. Early in the morning, while you were sleeping. In the middle of class. While you were out with friends. Each message was a reminder that he was watching, always watching.

“Who were you with at the park yesterday?”

“You changed your haircut… It looks nice.”

That’s when it hit you. This wasn’t just someone trying to reconnect—he was crossing a line.

Then, one day, you opened your locker and found a note. Short. Direct. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

No name. No signature. But you didn’t need one. You knew exactly who had left it there.

You found him later in the hallway, your chest tight with anger, anxiety, disbelief. You barely recognized your own voice.

“What are you doing, Ajax?” you asked, voice sharp. “Why are you following me?”

He smiled, but there was something deeply unsettling in the glint of his eyes.

“I just want to take care of you. I don’t want you to get hurt… or for anyone to take you away from me.”

His voice was soft, but the weight of his words sent a chill down your spine. This wasn’t the indifferent person you once knew. No—this was someone else. Someone unstable. Obsessive. Possessive.

From that day on, everything escalated.

He started appearing everywhere. At places you went to study, to relax, even the ones you thought were safe, untouched by his presence. The ice cream shop, the bookstore, even your front door. Always with the same excuses:

“I was just nearby.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“I missed you.”

You blocked his number.

But he didn’t stop.

He created new accounts. Left you notes through classmates. Showed up in person when you least expected it, always with a desperate smile like you were the only thing keeping him breathing. His persistence was no longer romantic—it was suffocating. Inescapable.

You started to look over your shoulder more often. The silence of your phone was no longer peace—it was the calm before another storm of messages from an unknown number.

And the worst part?

He never seemed angry. Just… devoted. As if every boundary you set was simply a test of how far he’d go to prove he wasn’t going anywhere.

One night, you were at home, alone. While reading a book, you heard something outside the window, a subtle sound, almost imperceptible. You hesitated, heart skipping a beat. When you got closer to check, you saw a familiar silhouette.

It was him.

Standing there in the garden.

Looking straight at you, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You immediately pulled the curtain back, your pulse racing, hands trembling. You picked up your phone, already halfway to calling someone, when the screen lit up with a message from him:

“No need to be scared. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

That was the moment you knew:

This wasn’t a boy trying to win your heart anymore.

Childe had become a presence — something you couldn’t escape, a constant, suffocating weight pressing into every inch of your life.

A shadow that followed you, always a step behind.

And somehow, he seemed more and more certain that this — this obsession — was the right thing to do.

Because without realizing it, Childe had already made his decision.

You were no longer someone he loved.

You were someone he needed.

And people don’t let go of what they need.

Not when they’ve already built a world around you.

Not when they’ve already decided.

you’re the only thing that matters.

tags:

#yandere #obsessive yandere #genshin impact #ajax x reader #childe #dark content #yande.re #childe tartaglia ajax #childe x reader #possesive love

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akutsuir · 8 months ago

Text

𖦹 Poisoning

𖦹 Synopsis: Rin sees you as his escape valve

𖦹 Character: Rin itoshi/Itoshi Rin

𖦹 Warnings: Emotional dependence, obsessive behavior, yandere tendencies

notes: this is very light, Rin just becomes dependent on your presence, I don't think there is any TW >ᴗ<

𓍼 You and Rin met not long after Sae left for Spain.

Your friendship began in an unexpected way, but you were genuinely grateful to have met someone like the younger Itoshi. You were both the same age and shared similar tastes, which made things easier. More than that, you liked hearing him talk about the articles or clips he came across about his older brother online. Even though you didn’t know much about football, you made an effort to follow everything Rin said, nodding along and asking questions just to see that small flicker of interest light up in his eyes.

Sometimes, he’d invite you to his matches, local ones at first, and afterward, he’d take you out for ice cream. It became a quiet routine between you two. You’d sit somewhere with a good view of the sky, watching the sun dip behind the horizon while Rin talked about the frustrations that came with football, the pressure, the expectations, the constant comparison to Sae.

You always listened closely, your gaze soft, responding with quiet encouragement. You’d tell him he didn’t need to push himself past his limits all the time, that taking care of himself mattered just as much as winning. That if he truly wanted to become the second-best striker in the world, right behind Sae, then he’d have to pace himself and stay healthy. And then you’d always end with the same promise: that you’d be there, by his side, cheering for both him and his brother when they stood together on the World Cup stage.

You always knew exactly what to say or do at the right time, it was almost as if you could read his mind. Your presence alone had a way of grounding him, lifting the weight he carried without demanding anything in return. Around you, Rin could breathe.

Little by little, he began to see you as a kind of escape valve for the loneliness that had settled deep inside him ever since Sae left. He didn’t have any close friends, and his parents were distant—barely present in the ways that mattered. But you… you were different. You were there. Always. When he needed someone, it was your name that came to mind.

Rin started growing more and more attached to you. He stopped inviting you only to his games; now he wanted you at his training sessions too.

He’d wait for you by the gate with that same unreadable expression, softened only by the sight of you approaching. Afterward, he’d casually suggest stopping by his house instead of going straight home. He had new horror games he wanted you to try, he’d picked them out thinking of you, confident you’d enjoy them, even if you screamed through the scariest parts.

He complained about school, said his classes were boring and that none of his classmates were anything like you. That’s why he texted you during every lesson, sharing random thoughts, doodles, or jokes only you would understand. He wanted to study with you, eat lunch with you, walk home with you, your absence in any part of his day felt wrong somehow.

You were just kids. There was no way either of you could have known that something so pure, so innocent in its beginning, could slowly start to twist into something so… Poisonous.

When you both turned fourteen, you and Rin started studying in the same class.

Now that you shared the same schedule, the two of you became even closer. For Rin, it felt like the rest of the class had vanished. You were always his partner, for group projects, classwork, even things meant to be done in pairs. He never gave you the chance to bond with your new classmates, even when you told him that you wanted to make new friends.

You were always with him.

He wasn’t the most verbal person, but his actions made it obvious: he wanted you around all the time. You were his best friend. Aside from his brother, no one understood him like you did. And Rin, he believed he understood you better than anyone else ever could.

That’s why he never hesitated to ask if you wanted to go with him to training, right before taking your answer as a given and dragging you along anyway. You’d sit in the stands, waiting patiently until he finished. That’s why he never checked if you had other plans when he invited you to his house after school to talk about his goals or the pressure building inside him. It didn’t even occur to him that you might say no.

Because, for Rin, your answer would always be “yes.”

So when he heard your first “no,” he didn’t know how to react.

You had accepted an invitation from your classmates to go to the park that afternoon. You wouldn’t be able to go with Rin after school. But that was fine, right? Ever since you met, you’d hardly spent any time apart. Surely Rin would understand if you changed your plans just this once.

Absolutely no.

He didn't care if it was just an afternoon outing. That didn't make sense to him. Why were you leaving him aside to be with those lukewarm people you had just met? What did you mean by "this time you can go alone."? He didn't want to go alone.

Weren’t you the one who promised you’d always be by his side?

Wasn't his friendship enough for you?

In the end, you gave in. You canceled your plans and spent the day with him, like always. But something was different. It was subtle, like a shift in the air, but it was there. A strange, heavy feeling had settled inside you.

The days went on, and Rin kept acting the same. But you… you were growing more and more exhausted. You tried to enjoy his company the way you used to, but now, something in it felt draining.

You had always been the one who told him he could confide in you, that you’d always be there to listen. And he believed you. He clung to those words. But now, his constant venting, about football, about the fear of falling short of Sae, about the pressure he put on himself, was starting to wear you down.

The training sessions.

The ice cream stops.

The endless texts at night when you weren’t physically with him.

The way he isolated you from everyone else.

The way he truly seemed to believe that every minute of your day belonged to him.

It was all exhausting.

And the worst part was that you didn't want to push your best friend away.

You knew that trying to start a conversation with Rin wouldn't lead anywhere, after all, if there was one thing you learned during those years with the boy, it was that no one could be as inflexible as he was. When you thought about cutting this relationship off at the root, all the memories you created and the time you spent together came flooding back to you. You were trapped in a maze of your own making.

So when you heard from Rin that his older brother was coming back, an immeasurable relief washed over you. With Sae back, Rin would divert his focus to him and, at least for a while, he wouldn't burden you with his presence anymore. You felt bad for being happy to know that you wouldn't be around him so much anymore. It was never your intention to get tired of someone you liked so much, after all, you knew he hadn't made that friendship exhausting on purpose.

So why?

Why was Rin calling you so late at night? Why did he want to talk to you now? Shouldn't he have gone to rest so he could meet Sae again the next day?

When you, once again, neglected your wishes and went to him that night, you heard in detail about their unfortunate reunion and felt a hole grow in your chest. In that moment, you let him hold you for as long as he needed, you listened attentively to everything he had to say. You noticed that he seemed even more apathetic and indifferent now, but at the same time, it was as if you were seeing the same scared and distressed boy you had first spoken to at the airport exit years ago, right after he saw how lonely it would be without his brother around.

With his arms wrapped around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck, he breathed deeply, feeling some of that nagging pain in his chest go away now that you were there with him. Even though his dreams had been cruelly crushed by the one he admired the most, Rin still didn’t feel completely alone.

Because he still had you.

You would be there when he needed you, you would be by his side, being his point of peace and comfort whenever he felt exhausted.

“Do you want me to stay here for the night?” With a worried sigh, you asked, lightly stroking the dark green strands on you.

“Yes…” Relaxing under your touch, he replied. “Don’t leave my side.”

And of course you would never leave.

tags:

#yandere #blue lock #rin itoshi #rin x reader #itoshi rin #yancore #obsessive yandere #rin x you #silly little guy

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akutsuir · 1 year ago

Text

𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 ⸝⸝

ᯓ Synopsis: He never gave you the chance to even consider walking away—he made sure of it.

ᯓ Character: Childe/Ajax

ᯓ Warnings: mentions of non-con, broken bones, kidnapping, forced relationship

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: I wanted to include parts where Childe actually spoke to the reader, but I couldn’t quite make it work—so I decided to leave it without dialogue instead.

𓍼 He knew from the beginning that you wouldn't accept the relationship willingly, and although the adrenaline of the hunt and the chase pleased him greatly, with you it was completely different.

He could easily take all the insults and meltdowns you would have, the hate you would direct at him, the objects thrown at him, everything, except seeing you try to leave him.

When you woke up in a bed that was clearly bigger than the one you usually slept in every night, a horrible feeling settled in your chest. It wasn't long before you felt a sharp pain in your lower body, your eyes instinctively going to your legs, only to find them completely bandaged.

It was like your mind went blank, you couldn't even scream despite the unbearable pain you felt. You didn't realize you were crying until you felt Childe's warm hand gently wipe away a tear that fell from your eyes. He tried to comfort you by saying that as long as you were with him, you wouldn't have to worry about your now completely unusable legs.

He gave you some teas with medicinal herbs that alleviated the pain minimally. Until you got used to that situation, he was the one who did everything for you, the hatred you felt for the man who put you in that place was also clear. That's why he tried to please you by bringing things that could entertain you while you were stuck in bed, with no way to get out to try and distract yourself at least a little.

You didn’t disobey Childe, not because you didn’t want to, but because you were terrified he might break another part of your body. Or worse, that he wouldn’t even wait for your legs to fully heal before crushing them all over again.

So, even with the hatred burning inside you, when he used your body at night like you were nothing more than a ragdoll, you never dared to push him away. The urge to vomit clawed at your throat as he placed unwanted kisses on the same legs he’d once shattered. You held back tears as he forced you to meet his gaze while he pushed deeper inside you, the pain intensifying with each rough, animalistic thrust.

And when he was done, he’d clean you up with a tenderness so grotesquely out of place, bathing you with care, then carrying you back to bed. There, he’d wrap his arms around you, as if nothing had happened, as if you were just any ordinary couple falling asleep together.

From the very beginning, you knew the real reason he kept you immobilized: to keep you from ever attempting to escape. And now, you had to admit, it had worked perfectly. Because deep down, you knew one terrifying truth

even if your legs healed completely,

You would never run.

tags;

#genshin impact #yandere #ajax x reader #childe #obsessive yandere #tw noncon #fem reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe x reader #dark content #dead dove do not eat

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akutsuir · 1 year ago

Text

𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙏𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 ⸝⸝

⸝⸝ Synopsis: How would they react if you punished them with silence?

⸝⸝ Characters: Childe, Diluc / Separated

⸝⸝ Warnings: kidnapping, emotional blackmail, forced relationship, social isolation, reader is a little easy to manipulate.

notes: I didn't like this one so much (keep in mind english isn’t my native language)

⟢ Childe

At first, he would be patient. He’d pretend he wasn’t all that bothered by your silence or the way you acted like he didn’t even exist.

He’d leave you alone in your corner, fully believing that sooner or later, you’d give in. After all, Childe didn’t think you could endure being alone with nothing but your own company for long.

But when he realizes you’re still holding firm, maybe even firmer than before, as if you’d really built a wall between the two of you, he starts to grow desperate.

First come the gifts. All kinds. From anywhere. Any material.

He approaches your figure, sitting with your back to him on the bed, and gently places the decorated box beside you.

“I got this in Inazuma. From a really famous kimono shop, the seller said the fabric was top quality.” His cheerful tone makes you glance briefly at the box before returning your gaze to the scenery outside the window, not uttering a single word.

He keeps trying every day, always receiving the same cold reaction from you.

Then he starts talking about things he knows you like. He brings flowers, cooks your favorite meals, this man even pretends he got hurt during a mission just to get a hint of concern from you.

But after all these failed attempts, Childe loses his patience.

“How long do you plan to keep acting this stubborn?” he snaps, pulling the book from your hands and carelessly tossing it onto the coffee table. His sudden action earns an irritated glare from you.

Was it really so hard for him to leave you alone?

“I’ve given you enough time to adjust, haven’t I?” Childe stops in front of you, and the expression on his face is nothing like the fake cheerful one he usually wears. For the first time since you were locked in this mansion, he’s confronting you directly.

“I don’t want to make things unpleasant for either of us, but you’re really not leaving me any choice with this childish behavior.” Would he hurt you? The thought alone makes you clutch your dress tightly. You don’t want to show fear, but your body refuses to cooperate.

After all, who were you next to the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger?

Faced with your unbearable silence, he continues.

“You know… your parents… seems like they’ve been having a bit of a tough time lately.” Your eyes widen, and you immediately stand up to face him.

“What did you do to them?!” Your voice is filled with panic. This was a hundred times worse than anything he could ever do to you.

“Oh? So you can speak now?” He says with a sarcastic chuckle. His failure to answer your question only makes your fear grow stronger.

“Childe, what did you do to them?” You ask again, more firmly this time. The fear in your voice is even more evident now. What the hell had happened? What did he mean by “a tough time”?

“Relax, I didn’t do anything. It just seems they’re having some… financial difficulties. That’s all I heard.” His amused smile does nothing to ease your worry, in fact, it only makes it worse.

Like you, your family never had a stable financial life. Your parents worked hard to keep the household running and to give you at least a somewhat decent life. It was tough, but it was enough. That’s why when Childe offered your father a job at the Northland Bank, you should’ve stopped him from accepting it. Maybe that would’ve kept him from having leverage to use against you, leverage to drag you into this frozen hell he called Snezhnaya.

But who were you kidding? He would’ve found another way to bring you here.

“But… my dad was earning enough before. What happened?”

“He was fired.” The calm way he said it only made you more anxious. You knew, no matter what Childe claimed, he had definitely done something.

He was the only one with the power to make that happen.

“Why? Did he do something wrong? Can’t it be reversed?” You were practically begging now. Just imagining your parents in that situation hurt deeply.

“Well… who knows? Maybe I could do something…” He leans in slightly, eyes narrowing with a playful glint that doesn’t quite hide the manipulation beneath. “But let’s talk a little more about it first. I want to hear your sweet voice for a little while longer.”

There it is.

Oh, how cruel he can be sometimes….

⟢ Diluc

This man is desperate from beginning to end.

From the moment you start acting as if he doesn’t exist, guilt begins to weigh heavily on his conscience.

He’s not very good at making conversation, so he tries to get your attention through actions. He brings you non-alcoholic drinks from Angel’s Share, ones made with your favorite fruit, and leaves them in the kitchen, hoping you’ll notice and drink them. But they remain untouched on the counter. He constantly tries to be close to you. If you’re sitting in the room, he’s only a few feet away, pretending to read a document or give orders to a passing employee.

At night, he always wishes you goodnight, hoping for at least a mumble or a sigh in response. But you simply lay your head on the pillow, pretending not to hear him. The same thing happens in the morning. At the breakfast table, he greets you with a soft “good morning,” but you just pick up a piece of fruit and walk away in silence, locking yourself in the room once again.

One day, in a desperate attempt, he finally breaks the routine.

“Do you… want to go for a walk?” Diluc asks just as you rise from the table, clearly ready to disappear into the bedroom again.

You freeze, unsure if you heard him right.

“What…?” You glance back over your shoulder, not fully turning to face him.

Seeing that his words have finally sparked some kind of reaction, he quickly stands, a flicker of hope in his chest.

“I asked if you wanted to go outside for a bit,” he repeats, trying hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. After so long, you had finally said something.

“Are you serious?” you ask, fully turning toward him now. Your voice is barely above a whisper, like you’re afraid it might all be a cruel joke.

“Of course… I can take you, if you’d like.”

There it is. Obvious.

For a moment, you feel foolish for thinking he would ever let you go alone. Of course he’d come along.

Still, it’s better than being trapped in this cold, dark mansion 24/7. A walk, even with him, is better than nothing, right?

“I… I want to go.” If you hadn’t looked away, you might’ve seen the way his crimson eyes lit up with pure joy.

“Good. A few of the employees are off today, so we won’t be interrupted.”

That doesn’t comfort you in the slightest.

With a quiet nod, your feet begin to move toward the mansion’s front door. Even if you didn’t want to show it, the happiness on your face is undeniable, especially to Diluc. How long had it been since you felt the sun warm your skin? Since you saw the vineyard outside not just through a bedroom window?

It was good for you. But for Diluc? It was everything.

Because without even realizing it, you had just handed him the perfect way to make sure you’d acknowledge him again.

Surely, you wouldn’t let your silent treatment ruin more little opportunities like this… right?

Oh, how happy he was.

tags:

#genshin impact #yandere #childe tartaglia ajax #childe #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #obsessive yandere #tartaglia #ajax x reader #dark content

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