kittylicksxx

[kittylicksxx]

@2_MA_TO on X/Twitter

[kittylicksxx]

"I thought you were good at this, cutie. Better catch the right fish this time"

Puffayel

[kittylicksxx]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Epilogue

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and his lover :) That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, finally some fluff lol A/N: I missed writing for Error!! God, deliver me from the shackles of schoolwork and capitalism pls (I wanted this, I wanted this....) Enjoy! <3

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

“When I look at you, I can't believe it's true You're all I ever dreamed of, and you love me (And you love me) And you love me.”

The two of you are holding hands as you make your way to the new café that just opened on 6th Avenue, near Darlington Square, your fingers woven into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You’ve heard great things about the place, and not just the usual noise from clickbait-y blogs desperate for engagement, but from people who actually know what they’re talking about. The hipster types—the new-age purist fucks who claim they can taste the "notes of apricot and the warmth of an abuela’s love" in a single-origin Santuário Sul pour-over, brewed with beans ethically scoured from the mystical depths of Carmo de Minas or whatever.

You think they’re full of shit. But for all their unbearable pretentiousness, they’ve never steered you wrong. So.

It still feels… unreal sometimes. Sylus, here, beside you. Present, in a way he never could have been before. In a way you two could only think of as a passing pipedream, not so long ago.

He’s here. Solid, tangible. And so, so warm. 

His thumb traces soft circles against your knuckles, an absentminded caress that sends a shiver up your spine. He does that a lot—little touches here and there, like he’s committing the texture of your skin to memory. Like there’s still a part of him that can’t quite believe that you two exist in the same space now. In the same plane of existence. 

And maybe you’re just as bad; sneaking glances at him whenever you could, half-expecting him to flicker out like a glitch in the system. Like some cruel error will right itself and erase him from this reality at any given moment, when you least expect it.

He never does. 

He’s still with you. Always with you. 

And day by day, the knot in your chest loosens; not all at once, but in slow, steady increments. Like frost clinging to the soles of your boots, melting under the first touch of spring. Day by day, the small voice in your head—the one that whispers warnings of borrowed time, of happiness slipping through your fingers—slows to a mum. 

Not gone, not yet, but it's quieter. Fainter now. Sounding more and more like the lingering echoes of a bad dream.

(You hope that one day, when you look into Sylus’ fathomless grey eyes, the reflection staring back at you will be filled with certainty. Of this. Of him. Of what you have. Nothing else.)

And whenever reality hits you – and what a novel thing it is, that this is what you now consider reality – it steals the very breath from your lungs. 

It’s an exhilarating kind of happiness; the way it makes you feel as if your heart's too big for your ribs, too much for your mortal body to contain. It spills over, bright and absurd—almost to a ludicrous degree, honestly. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. The utter magnitude of your bliss. 

And he’s just as lost in this as you are—though you suspect he’s just a tad better at making it less obvious.

He never strays too far away from you. He stays close to your orbit, always within arm’s reach; his fingers brushing against yours when they can, as if he doesn’t quite trust himself to let go. Your personal shadow.

It’s more than just physical proximity. There’s a gravity to him now, almost on a molecular level, like he’s in the very air you breathe. Inescapable, even if you tried.

(Not that you’d ever want to.)

Sometimes you think you’re not even consciously doing it, but when he moves, you move with him. You lean into him as if by instinct, finding the curve of his body and the spaces in between as though it was made just for you. It’s a rhythm that feels both thrilling and comforting, the kind of closeness that makes your heart thump a little faster; your cheeks a little redder. 

“Sweetie.”

Sylus’ voice breaks through your thoughts. It settles over the buzzing noise in your mind, soothing as ever. As it always has.

Has it really been four months?

You still find yourself mesmerised by the way he’s easily integrated himself into your world. His world now, too. All six-foot-five (!) of him; impossibly tall, broad-shouldered, and so naturally magnetic. 

It’s in the way he carries himself—not unlike the way he’s always done, back when he was no more but your impossible, sentient character. That presence is still there, the one you always thought was larger than life. But it's slightly more subdued now, toned down into something less intimidating. Something less… exorbitant. 

Something just for you.

And then there’s also the fact that he’s stupidly, ridiculously handsome.

It’s unfair, really. As if it weren’t already enough of a miracle that he’s here, real, flesh and blood, he had to step into this world looking just as breathtaking as his video game counterpart. And hey, maybe you’re a little biased, but you think the changes that came with his mortality only made him all the more perfect in your eyes.

Sure, you miss the silver hair from time to time. And occasionally, your brain still expects the sharp contrast of crimson when his gaze cuts to yours—only to be met with a monochromatic grey, deep and electrifying as a thundercloud in mid-July.

But then there’s everything else. The way his chest rises and falls under your palm, the steady heartbeat that lulls you to sleep at night. The way his hair sticks up in all the wrong places in the mornings, no physics engine rendering it down to a smooth perfection. The scratch of stubble when he steals kisses from you throughout the day, because body hair is a thing now (thank god). 

The off-key singing when he’s taking a shower—

Oh. Nevermind. 

The little imperfections that weren’t designed to be attractive but somehow make him even more so.

He isn’t all clean-cut lines anymore, no longer a carefully-crafted fantasy meant to appeal to an audience. There’s a rawness to him now, something that’s inexplicably human. He’s just some… guy. 

Granted, an extremely hot guy, but still. 

Just himself. Just Sylus.

And maybe… maybe, that’s what makes this version of him the most beautiful of all.

Because he’s yours. Completely and wholly yours.

“Sweetheart, we’re here.”

There’s laughter in his voice. You blink up at him, only to find that look in his eyes—amused and endearingly fond. You realize, a beat too late, that you’ve been spacing out for the last couple of minutes. 

Sylus tips his chin toward the double doors a few metres away, and he feels the way you startle slightly. 

You give him a sheepish smile. He merely chuckles, squeezing your hand in response. 

He’s used to this, revels in this. The way your mind drifts so freely when your hand is in his. It’s not unlike the way you used to depend on him, back when his existence was confined to a screen. 

But now, in this corporeal form, he can be more than a voice in your ear—do more than just watch from the sidelines. 

He can pull you back when you get too close to the curb, for one. Tuck you into his side when the cold bites too sharply at your skin. He can prevent you from walking straight into oncoming traffic whenever you get too lost in your own head… because of course you would. Carefree thing that you are.

He likes seeing you at ease; so completely trusting of the man who, in the grand scheme of things, has only truly been here for a fraction of a year.

As if he’s always belonged by your side.

Oh, how he adores you.

He’d take care of you forever, if you let him. His little dove.

You two enter the café, and immediately, your eyes are drawn to the eclectic décor of the place. It’s almost like you’ve entered a fever dream—or what you can only describe as a frankensteined aquarium. 

Circular faux windows line the stone-clad walls, imitating a sort of subterranean oceanic sanctum, drowning the space with an atmospheric blue. There are hanging lamps reminiscent of jellyfish floating at sea, casting vivid hues of bioluminescent purples and pinks across the room; the mix of colours gives off the illusion of something sunken, almost psychedelic. An abundance of plants of varying sizes can also be seen at every corner, from the creeping ivies to the potted lilies, as if they’ve simply sprouted into existence.  

The main kicker, though, is that – aside from the predominantly nautical motif – the owner seems to have a strange fondness for… the cabaret? 

Framed photographs of harlequin girls wink from gilded edges, and there’s a signage in swirly cabochon lettering that looks like it belongs outside a burlesque theater rather than in here. It spells out a cryptic phrase in a swirling font, in a language you don’t recognize.

You’re still trying to process the visuals of it all when you register the familiar notes of Paradise Circus filtering in through the speakers.

…They’re committed, you’ll give them that. 

"Woah," you can’t help but say, momentarily disoriented by the overwhelming interior of the unassuming—or at least, from the outside—café. "This is… definitely something."

Sylus glances around, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting a full immersion," he remarks dryly. "I was wondering what all the fuss was about. Glad to see they didn’t oversell it."

You snort. “I hope good coffee is part of the experience.”

You both amble toward the counter, third in line behind a girl with a bob cut who’s swaying to the music in a pair of silver bell-bottoms, and a shorter fellow wearing a flatcap and trench coat like he’s on the damned set of Peaky Blinders.

Clearing your throat, you quickly glance up at Sylus—just to see him watching you with a knowing look, an eyebrow arched.

You roll your eyes, pressing your lips to suppress a smile. Judgemental little shit. 

"It’s possible we missed a dress code somewhere," he says drolly. 

“Shh,” you hiss at him, trying to keep your voice low—or as low as you can manage—trying your hardest not to laugh. “You’re wearing leather pants. You don’t exactly have the fashion high ground here.” 

Sylus pinches your side in retaliation, and you swat his hand away. 

Tommy Shelb—rather, the cap wearing twenty-year-old-something dude—gives the two of you the stink eye, clearly unimpressed by your not-so-quiet banter. You can’t help but think that maybe he’s the type to take himself a little too seriously.

After a few minutes, you two are next in line.

You’re looking up at the hanging menu—an aged wooden board with elegant yet slightly smudged calligraphy, suspended by fibre twine that gives it a rustic feel without making it look too tacky. Your eyes skim past the more familiar offerings before landing on something called The Drowned Saint. 

It’s intriguing. You’re intrigued. 

Why not?

“Ready to order?” an easygoing voice asks, prompting you to tear your gaze away from the menu.

The barista in front of you is tall, with large, square glasses that sit slightly crooked on his nose, like they’ve been knocked askew one too many times. It gives him a friendly, bookish vibe, the kind of charm that might fool you into a sense of security… if not for the sly look in his eyes. 

Something that spells mischief. 

“Oh, hi—yeah, can I get The Drowned Saint? Just, uh, a regular.” You say, glancing down at the silver name tag pinned to his shirt.

… Red. Does everybody in this establishment need to have a certain degree of quirky to them...?

“–-and a strawberry muffin, too.” 

“And for you?” The dark-haired man seems to size Sylus up, his gaze sharpening with something you can’t put a name to. “Sir?”

There’s a pause. It makes you peek up at Sylus, and you’re surprised to see the same look of quiet consideration on his face.

You shift your weight awkwardly, glancing between the two men. Um.

Finally, Sylus lists his order in a measured tone. Red hums noncommittally, grabbing a paperboard cup from the stack behind the counter.

"Alrighty, and can I get a name for that?”

“... Silas.”

A snort; followed by a barely-restrained cough. 

Your brows lift. Okay. What’s this guy’s damage?

“Riiight, so do you spell that with an ‘I’?” There’s a deliberate smirk playing on Red’s lips. “Or maybe a ‘Y’? Sorry, still getting the hang of–” he makes a vague gesture with his fingers, “all this.” 

You squint, getting a little annoyed by the whole ‘cool guy’ act. Fucking hipsters, man. “Look, it’s not that complicated. It’s S-I-L–”

You feel the light press of Sylus’ palm at the small of your back—a silent reassurance while he cuts in, unperturbed. “It’s alright, sweetie,” he murmurs by your ear. 

Then, without looking away from the irritating barista, he languidly pulls out his wallet. There’s something almost amused in the way his brow lifts, the barest flicker of challenge. “Write it however you want.”

Red, looking unruffled for the most part, is already jotting something down on the cup. There’s no visible reaction; just that same ever-present ghost of a smile, which you’re starting to find… kind of weird, to be honest.   

After paying, both of you move to the side, settling into the wait. You narrow your eyes at the flamboyant man who's busy humming something upbeat under his breath as he moves effortlessly behind the counter. Steam rises in the air while he works the espresso machine like he’s done it a thousand times before. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if he started twirling a milk frothing pitcher mid-pour, like a performer in some kind of latte circus act. He seems like the type.

Finally, Red pings a tiny brass bell by the pick-up area, the tinkling chime almost mocking. “Order up,” he calls out, flashing the two of you a toothy grin. “Enjoy, lovebirds.”

Sylus scoffs, unimpressed. He doesn’t respond—just picks up the tray in one smooth motion, nudging you toward an empty table near the centre of the room, right below a floating indigo anemone. 

He pulls out a chair, and you drop into it with a huff. “The fuck was that guy’s deal?”

He takes his seat across from you, unbothered. To your surprise, instead of the ire you expected to be written on his face, he looks more fascinated than anything. 

He studies you, eyes flickering with something you can’t put your finger on. 

“Does he remind you of anyone?”

You frown. The question throws you. “Huh?” Your brows knit together, head cocking sideways in confusion. “Wait—you know him?”

He gives you an indulgent smile, but doesn’t say anything. He picks up his cup, gaze dropping briefly as he turns it in his hand.

Sylus watches you, patient, the faintest curl of his mouth betraying nothing as you mull it over. It’s as if he’s waiting, trusting you’ll make the connection yourself without his help.

Do you know him? But how would you know the owner of a newly-opened café—if he even is the owner? (He sure carries himself like he owns the place.)

You wrack your brain, trying to pin him down. Where else would you know a roughly six-foot-tall guy with dark, wavy hair and shifty-looking eyes the color of a dead aubergine? 

He’s certainly… a character. And he doesn’t pass off as local—maybe foreign, or at least mixed—so should be easily recognizable, right? 

Yet, for some damning reason, nothing’s clicking. 

It’s in the way he acts too, you think. The easy arrogance, the look of mirth lingering in his expression, as if he’s in on some inside joke you’re not privy to. It’s nagging at you, like an itch in the back of your brain. You’ve seen him before, right? 

You’re pretty sure you have… but for the life of you, you can’t figure out where.

“I mean, like, he does look kind of familia—” Wait.

Oceanic décor. Dark irises that glint into a near-violet hue under the dim, overhead lights. 

Red. 

Reddie.

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Wha—no.” You spin your head around so fast it almost gives you whiplash. 

And as if he’s already expecting it, Rafayel meets your wide eyes. 

He gives you a wink. 

Holy fucking shit. 

“So he found a way out, as well,” Sylus muses, his large hand comically dwarfing the coffee that he’s back to examining. When he meets your stunned gaze, he casually flips the cup around, revealing the name scribbled on the sleeve.

‘Sylus’ 

And just right below: ‘still got here first lol ;)’

You let out a sharp exhale, the dots starting to connect in your head. “Did you know?” Your voice pitching higher than you intended, brows scrunched up as you look at the calm man in front of you—the nonchalance to your overreaction. “Is that why you wanted to come here?”

He picks up your strawberry muffin, tapping the excess crumbs off the edge of the plate. “I had my suspicions,” he admits, cupping a hand beneath the pastry, angling the muffin closer to your face. “Ahh, baby.” 

With no small amount of frustration, you take a bite, your eyebrows still furrowed as you chew. The flavors don’t even register on your tongue as you try to wrap your head around this… unexpected development. 

Of course, that’s putting it lightly—inside you’re freaking out. What does this mean? When did this happen? Two of them now?

Are you losing it? Again?? 

It’s too much to process in one go. You’ve just come to terms with your very own freak of nature, thank you very much. 

Sylus tuts gently, dabbing a napkin at the corner of your lips. "No need to stress over it, my love," he rubs his thumb on your lower lip to draw your focus back to him. The corners of his mouth curl into a small smirk when he sees you nibble on it absentmindedly. "Careful now."

Suddenly, your ears pick up a voice calling out, “Raf!” from behind, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see someone step out from the small kitchenette. 

They’re wearing a navy blue apron over a glittery top, carrying a square pan of what looks to be a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. 

On the taller side, standing only a couple of inches shorter than Rafayel, sporting a silver nose ring. Their hair is in a split-dye, parted down the middle, and styled into intricately braided space buns—likely a labor of love from the man himself. 

“Ah, that must be his partner,” Sylus murmurs.  

Rafayel reaches for the tray with all the confidence of someone who has absolutely no plan beyond offloading the weight from their lover’s hands. His partner, quicker and clearly wiser, snatches it away at the last second with a knowing look. "Cutie, I was about to get that," he whines in protest, lips forming a pout.

"And yet here I am, actually getting it," they reply dryly, maneuvering the steaming buns out of his reach.

Undeterred, he makes another attempt; only for them to sidestep, holding the tray higher like a seasoned veteran at dealing with his antics. 

Rafayel huffs but refuses to back down, making for another grab. This time, faster. 

He gets his fingers around the edge of the baking tray—only to hiss in pain and immediately jerk back. "Just let me– ow, fuck, hot!" 

His partner gives him a long, unimpressed stare. "You don’t say."

"You could’ve warned me," he accuses, shaking out his hand with all the theatrics of a man in peril. 

"I did. With common sense," they deadpan, but you detect a hint of laughter beneath the monotone.  

That earns a full-blown scowl, but it’s betrayed by the way his eyes soften—something unmistakably fond in the way he watches them, as if their amusement alone makes the now-forgotten burn worth it. 

You don’t miss the subtle shift in his posture; the way his shoulders loosens, the telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth like he’s biting back the urge to grin.

After a few more playful back-and-forths (one of which involves Rafayel attempting a truly ridiculous reach-around that gets his wrist lightly smacked in retaliation), they finally place the cinnamon rolls into the glass display, arranging them alongside the rest of the baked goods.

It’s the ease between them that sticks with you. The way he casually fixes the strap of their apron, how they don’t even flinch when he brushes a stray crumb from their cheek. 

It’s an old, familiar rhythm—one that speaks of something long-established. The kind of comfort built over time. Like it's already habit. 

It makes you smile. 

(In your periphery, you catch Sylus smiling, too.) 

You exhale a long sigh, sinking back into your chair, only now noticing the weight you’d been carrying—the one you hadn’t even realized was there—finally lifting off your chest.

Questions swirl in your mind, most of them aimed at the busy couple manning the counter. The hows and whens. The adjustment period. The hardships. 

And, honestly? Just the need to have someone to freak out with and scream say, Can you actually believe this? 

… But you suppose it can wait. There will be time for questions, for stories, for untangling the mysteries of it all.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy a normal weekend afternoon with your very normal boyfriend.

After all, they’re not going anywhere. Nor will the two of you.

- -

An errant thought pops into your head.

Before you can stop it, your mouth blurts out: “You think Xavier’s ever gonna come out of the game, too?”

A beat.

Sylus freezes for a split-second before his gaze locks onto you, wry and amused—like he’s debating whether he heard you right. 

You get the bad, bad feeling that you’ve made a mistake somewhere.

He lets out a low, throaty chuckle. “Xavier, huh?” he muses, almost patronizingly, eyes alight with an intensity that makes you squirm in your seat.

The nervous little action doesn’t escape his notice.

“Look at the time, kitten.” His voice drops an octave, deceptively calm and even, but there’s an undercurrent to it that has you squeezing your thighs together. “I think we’ve stayed here long enough. Don’t you?”

Uh-oh.

End A/N: Ok, so I’m a big, fat liar who lied about not including anything about the silly lil fishman ≽^-⩊¬^≼ I’m anal about spoilers if you haven’t noticed. 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira @writingmyladsdelusions @borkunlimited

[kittylicksxx]

SCATTERED ACROSS THE STARS

Sylus Angst

After years of yearning, eons of loyalty what does a man do when all he gets is pieces, uneven and unfair.

Warnings: angst, slight mentions of chaos murder, drug addiction, and suicide (all mild)

AN: I often think all LIs and MC deserve better. A happiness of their own, not the kind tainted with curses and what not. If you don't like it don't read (°∀°)

Contains reference of another fic I wrote of zayne. I'll add link in case you wanna read.

Sylus was pissed.

No, that's not the right word, it portrays nothing but mere annoyance and anger. Sylus was beyond that.

Sylus was hurt.

No, that's not the right word as well, he wished he was just hurt. He wished it was only pain he felt every time he saw her with them.

Sylus was broken.

Tsk, incorrect yet again. How can one be broken when they were never whole to begin with.

For someone known to have everything worldly in the palm of his hand, Sylus lacked the most essential of his being. His soul, torn and used to bring life into another, one supposed to be his one true companion. His beloved. But Alas! 

Universe played a dirty trick.

For a dragon who owned the treasures of many fallen kings, the one who Never shared any of his possessions, even the one he did not care for, was forced to share the most precious one.

How ironic.

He thought his love was the purest, a beautiful yet tragic legend woven into the ancient ruins only for it to soar once again when they reunited.

He thought none like him existed, one who dared to love so fervently. A valiant display of ardent affection despite the curse that eventually killed him.

Sylus prided himself in his ability to love after the cosmos banned together to refrain it from happening, he prided himself to make a place for himself just so he could, for once, live out his fairy tale with her.

He deserved it right? After everything they went through. He still stands tall after that ever-longing suffering; her warm embrace should be his reward, right?!?.

Wrong.

Ah yes, wrong. Sylus felt wronged.

For the one whom he loved the most, was not his, at least not entirely.

Not the way he belonged to her. No. He longed for her, kept all of his love, his softness, his laughter reserved for her, made it so sacred so that when he laid it bare in front of her it would be nothing the eldest star in the ever-growing galaxy had ever witnessed before.

That's until he learned of them, their desires, their history.

A messenger who betrayed his god.

A god who led down his people.

A royal who left his own planet in ruins.

A fallen soldier who didn't let even death restrain him.

Each of them bared down their lives, people, treasures, and sanity. Over and over again. From gardens of jasmines to bonds of eternal. From past to future and across multiple timelines in between, tangled web, whispered myths and many fostered anecdotes.

Each of their feats rivaled the other, a grandeur display of Romance, that seeps through the galaxies and into her heart.

Wherever it beats, it finds her. They all find her, Love her, and then inevitably lose her.

Yes. The eternal cosmic affairs that have rattled the divine always end in the same way.

Heartbreak.

Tragic.

Unfulfilled.

Tsk. What a waste.

—--

Knowledge is power only some can bear, and Sylus would know. He had spied on them, all of them. Learned about them trying to find the flaws he could use to pry her away from their grasp. All for it to turn into failures.

Not just because they were clean slate, no like him they had their own fallouts.

But because of how happy she looked with them, so happy, just as she did with him. Not more, not less.

Just as much.

How unfair.

For he wanted her all for himself, blame his dragon roots but sylus don't share, how could he do it with the one who owns half his soul.

Is it so wrong he wants it all to himself? To get back the loyalty he had shown for eons?

He wasn't asking for much was he?

Everyday he will see her with one of them.

Under the starlight, along the oceans, in cozziness of duvets or the serenity of the night sky.

And she would dazzle for them just like she dazzles for him.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Nothing special.

__

His beloved was scattered across the stars, and he too only got the crumbs. The spared affections she had to offer, and sylus had enough.

He deserved to have something sacred. Something all for him. Just him.

And as the time went on he noticed…

So did she.

She deserved to have love that doesn't demand her being, her life, her blood, her heart.

She deserved to love as easy as breathing, not one suffocated with unseen linkages that burned with cosmic mischief.

She deserved to love and be loved with free will. Not because she was designed to, programmed to, and especially not with those picked by forces beyond her kin.

And so sylus decided to let her go, it wasnt easy, nor was it gentle but it did happen.

He pulled apart the string of fate, to let her free. It wasn't clean, certainly not smooth at edges but now she could breath. 

Soulmates can be platonic, romance isn't mandatory and besides, Kittens thrive better untethered, untamed.

—

After the “breakup”, if you can even call it that, a word far too trivial to define the undoing bond burned within the constellation, Sylus threw himself into work. Even more than before, going as far as taking Down the cheap underling, spreading chaos on the streets of the N-109 zone.

He was a ruthless killer before now he was a reckless one as well. His strategic movements and calculated attacks roughed up with insatiable need to wreak havoc.

He barely used his henchmen; why should he when he could do it better than them and also get the thrill of it?

Getting his own hands dirty in the hopes of removing the traces she left behind. He had learned the art of letting go, didnt mean he doesn’t get to process his grievance on his own accord, no matter how bloody it is.

Turns out he wasn't the first one to do so, it was the doctor. He, too, had to de-tangle himself from bushes full of thorns that had given him scars to last a lifetime, to plant a whole new garden with another flower just as fragrant, just as pretty. Even though it was small, it was still beautiful because it was entirely in bloom, not just the scraps he had to lose so much for.

Though Sylus was not looking for one, too tired by the charade to bother himself with it. He lived this long he would live out the rest of it as well.

Or so he thought.

---

During a hunt for a specific rat that had infiltrated the base, Sylus was not pleased when his carefully laid out trap was outsmarted by the traitor, fleeing the spot after tricking someone else into it.

“Looks like the rat trap ended up catching a little mouse” he spoke up approaching the bird cage that held just a sweet little thing, at least compared to him. 

He is displeased red eyes were now on,

You.

your pretty big eyes on him as well as crimson shades dust your cheek. “I- I am not supposed to be here…” you spoke, rightfully scared as the man in front of you approached the bird cage, his veiny hand reaching out to hold a bar, still studying, still weary.

“Obviously” he says in a bored tone “you do not fit the description. It was supposed to be a large burly man and not a, well…a fragile little thing too easy to break” he says.

You couldn't help but giggle and that caught him off guard. “Sorry, it's just- your voice is just as deep as I imagined,” you say, making the man in front of you give you a questioning glare. “Excuse me?” he asked. Of course, she wasn't the first to say something like that to him. Many had tried to tempt the man who runs the city to no real outcome.

“You are sylus right? I- am a huge fan!” You say looking up from your place nearing the bars of the cage.

Many had claimed to be his nemesis, his rivals, even admirers, but a fan? That was a first. “A fan? A fan of what?” he asked, his low voice not portraying the hint of curiosity he felt.

“You know, like your achievements and stuff” you reply simply, matter-of-factly.

There was a beat of silence.

“You mean my criminal record?”

“A mighty impressive one”.

His devilishly handsome face contorts into a slightly puzzled expression as he refuses to look away at the shorter person in front of him who continued to look at him….like that.

Sylus was aware how blessed he was aesthetically but he couldn't help but be drawn to her eyes and how she looked at him. They brimmed with admiration, respect and slight fear that didn't aim towards him. Now it isn't that no one ever looked at him like that before, no. What made it different was how pure it was, how easy it came to her when it really shouldn't. Her desires were sated and she didn't require anything of him. Not his favor, not his hate. She was so contant in the moment just being present here, with him.

Sylus had to step back and look away. An unfamiliar weight unfolded in his chest

“Enough with this charade whatever this is” he says “how did you end up here? Because with what you have said so far I believe you are some kind of stalker? Is that what it is?” He speaks with accusations directed towards you.

“Oh no! No” you to quickly step back, panic drips your demeanor “There is a misunderstanding, I have been played to be accurate”.

“Oh? Why tell me more about it little mouse” he says crossing his arm, his tone was sarcastic yet sincere. “I am all ears”.

With a deep breath you begin “that big and burly man you mentioned vaguely, were you talking about daryl? Also known as the bishop?” When he nods cautiously you continue “right! So what happened was, I owed Daryl a favor and he cashed it in and told me to make this delivery for him and well I had no clue that delivery will bring me here” you breath out seemingly calm but that slight shakiness in your voice didn't miss him. “I assume he somehow knew it was a trap then set me up as an escape goat” 

Once you were finished sylus ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. It doesn't happen often that one of his strategically laid out traps doesn't work or catch someone innocent, but even in this moment after his failed attempt his mind was more interested in you “And why would a small thing like you owe a man like bishop a favor” his eyes narrows down at you with suspicion laced with intrigue. Just who are you? First, you claim to be a fan and then turn out to have some sort of connection with a rat that Infiltrated his base.

The question made you chuckle “ah so funny story” you begin, now having sylus’s full attention because how would it be funny to know a man like The Bishop.

“So my dad killed his dad, and then like kind of adopted him because of guilt since his mom was a druggie, she ended her life subscription after like 4 to 5 years or so anyway” You wave it off like it was no big deal and the red-eyed man could only just listen to you stunned. “So yeah Daryl kind of came and went never really stayed, got in the wrong g crowd and found out the truth so he obviously tried to kill us all but thankfully couldn't” you rambled, sylus felt they were losing the plot “If he tried to kill you all why would you owe him….anything?” He tried hiding how absurd he found it, but she could see it as “that's the funny part of having a dysfunctional family.” she leaned on the bars of the cage. “Can't live with them, can't live without them. After nearly burning down our house and running away for good, or so I thought, he returned again remorseful because, well, my dad did take him in, and we were nice enough to him.” She shrugs. Sylus shifted on his feet, impatient “Still doesn't explain why-”

“I am getting there jeez” you giggle, “though we did not really forgive him and cut off our ties I had to reach out to him because” you take another deep breath and sylus holds his.

“I needed the money, we were in ruins, and all kinds of bills were stacking up my books, not making enough. It- it was rough,” You chuckle, but there is no humor in it; the sparkles in your eyes dim down, replaced by the pain of the past that still seems to haunt you. “It was a good chunk I borrowed and was paying him back bit by bit after I started doing well till out of the blue he called in and asked a favor in exchange for forgiving the rest of the loan and- well, rest is history” she stands straighter arms crossed “that answered all your questions?”

Sylus stares you up and down. He knows, of course, that you are not lying or deceiving him, that your heart is pure even after all you've been through, and it is only what you tell him; he wonders what else you hide behind that flowery smile.

“even if you are saying the truth you have seen too much now, and given your…complicated relationship with the bishop I suppose letting you go so freely won't be an option,” he says, his voice dropping low to that cold tone that can make anyone succumb to their knees, the one you had in your eyes right now. That's the look Sylus was used to, not that mellow one you have been giving him.

“No! No wait, don't kill me” you grabbed onto the bar's desperate pleas falling from your lips making him smirk “I-I can be useful I can help you find him! everything I know I'll tell you. Please” the last word falling much softly.

“mhm is that so then maybe you can be spared” sylus says knowing damn well he was never planning on killing her in the first place.

“Well then” he smirks “I am expecting your full corporation little miss”.

AN: This was supposed to be long lol, but I figured I'd make it a whole part 2 later. It is almost written but I have so many ideas I need to arrange it all first

Anywho, let me know if I should write it or not.

Also here is the link.

[kittylicksxx]

| I am in love and deep shit |

A tale of self-indulgence, affections and vengeance.

SelfawareAu, isekai, vengeful mc. 8k words.

AN: phew I finalllllyyyyyy got the first part done. I had a different idea but when people loved the vengefulMC arc so much I just had to redo the whole thing.

Summary:- you died and got isekai into LADS. Chapter 1: basically a crash out. Chapter 2: you meet the guys. Chapter 3: Lore?

Chapter 1: THE AWAKENING.

Pain.

Unbridled and sharp pain courses through your entire body as if it had been dispersed through the air and reassembled. You rolled off the soft plush of the bed and threw up a string of curses dropped softly from your mouth "fucking hell, I ain't ever gonna touch anything they give me ever again," you mumble to yourself.

Dazed and trembling you barely manage to stand up and look around. A vague sense of familiarity bound with the reality that this was not your room invokes sheer feelings of panic and fear. "no way, no fucking- WHAT THE FUCK"

The moment you realized you were not in your place, you had a very valid crash out, screaming and crying and banging on the door, demanding to be let out or else you would scream so loud the dead would- oh.

The door was not unlocked.

You were alone, you made sure of it. There wasn't a sign of another person, at least not one of a man. Everything in that apartment looked like it belonged to women, from the furnishing to the clothes that were present. It was a cozy and homey space with high-tech appliances that didn't sit right.

In the middle of desperately looking for your phone, you passed by a huge window; by now, you were alert enough to notice the difference.

You lived in a quiet, peaceful and clean town, nothing close to the sight in front of you, "wow!" Even in the current situation, you were mesmerized.

Tall skyscrapers, with fancy designs, streets, and roads unlike you have ever seen before. Forget the town. You were sure your country didn't have anything like that. "Am I in a different country?!? Did somebody fucking smuggle me- oh my- I am gonna throw up again" That feeling of sickness swarmed in your stomach when you theorized that you maybe were on a different continent altogether. 

Oh, you sweet summer child.

Just like that, you had another very valid crash out. In a fit of irrational haste you tried to make a run for it going straight to the front door but of course...it had a lock, and you had no idea how it worked you tried it once and then twice only to fail both times, scared you might screw up and alert the wrong people if you keep punching random buttons you stepped back, taking few deep breaths because Rash decisions were no help.

Now you were locked in.

Entering a spacious bathroom you went straight to find a mirror. Checking your whole body; you had felt such immense pain when you woke up. Surely there must be something wrong. All your fears died down when you didn't find any sign of injury or trauma. Absolutely nothing, only for it to now be replaced entirely by confusion. "The...the accident," you whispered, feeling perplexed. The images were still there; you were bleeding and severely injured, but right now, you stand here, all fine and pristine. Just how long were you out?

-----

"If this is some kind of practical joke, it isn't funny," you said out loud. You have been doing that for a while now as you searched for your damned phone. "maybe for you it is but the moment I catch you, you will wish I had died instead" Making threats to your imaginary kidnappers was turning more and more frustrating, tearing apart whatever was left of your sanity, a part of you regretted reading all those dark romance obsessed stalker fictions because look what happened.

Tired and parched from taking out loud so much, you went to the kitchen, the fridge, and the pantry fully stacked. You did find a cellular device, but your joy was short-lived since it was powered off due to a low battery. The charger was nearby, and you did not waste a second to plug it in.

Finally, a ray of hope had shined up on you.

While the phone charged, you started paying more attention; your focus was entirely on looking for your phone, but now that you had your 'kidnapper' phone, you decided to look for more clues about your whereabouts, and the best way to do that was through the news channel.

------

“Good morning, Linkon City! I’m Seliha Ramona, and you’re watching Linkon City News—bringing you the latest updates to start your day.

Something strange happened while most of us were asleep. Late last night, a mysterious energy flux wave passed over the entire city. No power outages, no disruptions—just a brief, unexplainable pulse of energy that left scientists scratching their heads and residents wondering if they dreamed it. So, what was it? A natural anomaly? Perhaps a wandered attack? Or something else entirely? We’ll be diving into what we know so far, right after the break.”

Any other sound emitting from the screen fell deaf to your ears as your knees gave out and you fell limp on the floor.

"no, no, no, no wakeup, wakeup, wake,p, wakeup, wake..up the wake. Up wake...." your eyelids grew heavy, and the room spun as you babbled incoherent words.

-----

When you regained consciousness again, the TV was still on. Something played on it, maybe the advertisement for some products you knew jack shit about. As you lay there on the cold hard ground, you don't bother turning it off; the noises keep you grounded. 

One would expect another wave of valid crash out but it never came. Your staggered breath and half-opened eyes were the only signs of life emitting from your body as you lay there...

Numb.

Once the irregular breath became steady you opened your eyes and welcomed the darkness. The sky outside had darkened, taking away the main source of light from the apartment. You stare blankly at the screen, not watching what it shows. A part of you had hoped to wake up in your world, surrounded by your things and people much to your dismay.

After you had actively accepted the fact that you were in Linkon City, a made-up place of a virtual world, you found the strength to sit up and then stand on your own two feet and hurry towards the device you had left to charge. 

As you go through that phone, something inside you churns as it vibrates continuously, notifications one after the other. 

Tara

yevone

Grayson

And others so you didn't care for you scrolled down pausing till you found .... them.

Dr. Mcdreamy

pretty fishie

eepy baby

handsome boy

Colonel bbg.

Your hands shake and you put the phone down, smart enough to make the connections. You were in the game; this was the apartment designed for MC, and this phone belonged to MC, but the question remains...

Where was she?

But wait...

Aren't you MC? Have you just taken her place but how? How in the ever-burning hell did you get inside the game? And what the hell are you supposed to do now?

The phone was useless now; you couldn't reach out to anyone; what would you even say?

"yes hello! See your world and everything you know is fake but me, I am real, and I decided how the fate of your world goes because it is all a game for me, but I am kind of stuck in the game right now so like? Do me a solid and help a sis out?"

Yeah no, that is not very smart.

-----

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror again, face wet with the cold water you splashed on your face.

"lucid dreaming," you give yourself a thumbs up to a viable theory. "Ugh, no, I only tried it once when I was 15...shifting perhaps? No, what am I even? ARGH-" You pull on your hair in frustration, and then it hits you.

Hard like the truck that killed you.

"coma! I am in a coma," you jumped. "Yes, now that makes sense. I got in an accident and fell into a coma!" Yes, you were pacing around talking out loud to yourself like a maniac, but it is all very valid in your given situation. "I just need to find a lamp and stare at it!"

Long story short. That didn't work.

You were looking up the internet for methods to wake up from a coma, but the best you could find were cases when patients woke up when they realized they were in a state of dream; self-awareness was something that may help a patient wake up. If not that, there were other medical ways that you were sure did not exist in your world. Whatever hope you had left was now in the hands of the doctor of your world.

Pushing the sleek laptop away, you lay back on the couch. "Now what?" you say out loud. "Well, if I am here, I might as well..."

Chapter 2: THE RE-INTRODUCTION

The hunter uniform looks good on you. It was a brand-new day, and staying in that apartment would not answer your questions. Tara had texted you the most. You made up Some excuse about being sick, but there hasn't been one text from....them.

Your heartbeat picked up at the thought of them, millions of questions running through your mind: will they recognize you as MC? Will they show you the same affection as they show her? How will it be? What if they know you are not the MC but an imposter? Because let's be real, no matter how hard one tries, you can't make your MC look exactly like you. The game didn't even have the right option to do your hair right!!!! MC is just 10 times prettier version of you with vaguely resembling features, so would they really know its you?!

Well, only one way to find out.

----

Turns out the lock on the door had an option of a biometric system in case of emergencies. Mucb, to your joy, it accepted your fingerprint so that answered your first question. You were in the place of MC!

You opened the door, took a deep breath, and stepped out; you went to the elevator.

Pressed the button and waited.

The elevator stops.

The door opens.

Nothing prepares you for the sight in front of you.

Standing there in all his glory was the sweet beloved neighbor, Xavier.

The tall, starry-eyed man looks at you as if he had seen something marvelous, a vision so puzzling he couldn't even breathe right.

You were in awe, too; you thought he was pretty on screen, but right now, you wanted nothing else but to hold him and find the solace in his arms that you knew he could bring you. It was as if he had been harvested from the sun it self, molded into perfection as a beacon of strength

The trance is broken when the elevator door starts closing and Xavier shoots his arm out to stop it "You-"

"Hi Xavier!! It's me! ymcn" you chirped, sounding a little too cheerful to be real, so smooth of you. "ymcn?" he tilts his head in confusion. 

Oh no, is he catching on already. the thought made you gulp. "Ah, you know your neighbor and very good Friend. You said stepping inside the elevator

Very smooth

Xavier graciously made space for you, his eyes scrutinizing, studying your every move and actions, he seemed to be on high alert and that scared you shit less. “So another day at work huh” you tried to make small talk feeling nervous but giddy, playing with the lobe of your ear, a dumb habit since childhood when you get awkward.

And finally, finally that guy cracks a smile.

“You really do that huh” be said his eyes suddenly brightening up with mirth, putting you at ease but you were confused “uh I do what-” you couldn't finish your sentence when Xavier suddenly reached out and pulled you flush into him.

Your brain shuts down.

He was so warm and despite his size, very huggable too. He seemed bigger then the description but then again you had taken infolds description with a grain of salt when they said Sylus was 6 '2 pfft.

It wasn't until you actually hugged him back that you noticed he was trembling “Xavier?” You questioned, trying to pull away only for him to tighten his grip “am sorry, just need to hold you right now” he mumbles face pressed in you neck making your heart flutter, it was hard not to jump at him and hopefully trigger the freaky Xavier to come out and play. You really questioned your morals at that moment. “Is everything alright Xavier” you asked again once you gathered yourself, noticing the fact that he’d squeeze you ever so gently every time you say his name “am good just…just need a hug”. He was so endearing, you can't be blamed for the way you just melt in his arms. “Awh sweetie, a difficult hunting mission?“ You asked, rubbing his back, a soft cooing sound from your lips that made Xavier dig his fingers in the softness of your waist and take a sharp breath. “ Uh I-” Before he could form a coherent sentence, the elevator door opened. You quickly pushed him off, you were at the ground level now and people needed to board on as well.

The moment you exited the elevator Xavier's finger found your wrist again holding it firmly, keeping you in place. You turned to see him and he was looking down at your body, not in a lustful way but observant. Still the fact he was looking at you like that made you blush “uh Xavier” you poke his side and his head snaps up to your face “oh I uh I am so sorry” he was aware of his staring…just not truly apologetic “its just I was looking for the injuries” he says nervousness taking hold on his tone “injuries?” you tilt your head, was mc supposed to have some injury at this point in the game?What chapter is this?.

“Yeah you know from-from our last mission!” He looked away and he didn't seem convinced on his own words “oh yeah no I am fine” you brush it off as just Xavier checking you out, you were his queen after all.

The thought made you giddy and inflated your ego.

“Still maybe go to dr. Zayne to get yourself checked” he said, fidgeting just a little. You didn't question the fact how he knew Dr.zayne, since in the game it was made clear that they weren't that aware of each other, but only because of the fact he looked so pretty when he blushed “yeah but I don't have an appointment I can't just barge in there now can I” you shrug as you both walk out of the building together. Hand in hand.

“No he will, he is your primary physician, he will take out time for you.” The conviction in his voice didn't miss you, while you were aware he was you LI and your affinity with him was just as high as Xavier's you still felt uneasy. “But my heart is-”

“Please” he begged, his sapphire eyes brimming with emotions, worrying being the most prominent one “that a- mission was bad and you were hurt. Captain Jenna told you to see the doctor first and foremost, remember?”

Like hell you did.

To not look suspicious you nod making him sigh visibly with relief “I'll go back to the headquarters I will do your desk work too” he said taking out his phone “wait you know where the hospital is right?” He asked, suddenly making you stiffen.

Like hell you did.

Again to not look suspicious you nod, Xavier only smiles “I'll still send you the directions” he smiles warmly, you couldn't help but giggle like a schoolgirl. His suave and charismatic demeanor fitting a royalty had you swooning.

Xavier not only gave you the address he fetched you a cab because let's be real, you don't actually know how to ride a bike ... .at least not the kind Mc had in the game.

And so now you stand in front of your other “boyfriend's” office. One thing you noticed was how everyone recognized you as the MC they treated you like they would treat her, Grayson even gave you the proper guide to his office not at all questioning why you would need to know, to them you were a wee little sick girl, who probably got a bad accident during a mission and is a bit confused and forgot…no biggie.

When you finally got the courage you knocked on the door, a smooth “come in” called back to you, an allowance to open the door and enter that you did.

“I was starting to think you fell asleep while standing right at my door” dark zayne spoke his chair turned away as he fetched a file from a shelf behind him “who does that? I am pretty sure that's not possible” you say hoping he’d stay like that because after Xavier you were not in the shape to look at another devastatingly handsome man.

But of course he just had to turn.

You felt butterflies soaring when those sharp eyes were on you, This man. THIS man should NOT be a doctor. THAT face is not good for ANYONE'S heart.

“I think you should know that it is possible with some individuals, you maybe one of them”

“What is and a- who?“ you replied with a question, your voice strained, eyes unfocused.

“I am saying- are you having a stroke?” He asked head tilted as he tried to decipher your weird behavior.

“Possibly”

In hindsight you knew you should not have made that joke because now you were in a hospital bed going through tests. being closely monitored by Dr. Zayne. To no one's surprise your heart rate was accelerating in a concerning way.

“Nervous?” The doctor clad in white smiles in a knowing way. “It-its routine right. I am all good” you managed to say in between the short encounter with Xavier and now that you had no idea how you will handle the other three. You almost jumped at the prince and the doctor was making you weak….

This is so NOT going to be easy for you.

—

“So you were not having a stroke” Zayne comments the obvious. You were seated in front of him, on the other side of the desk “I told you it was just a dumb joke but you insisted on that test” you retorted not wanting to be accused of wasting his precious time, even if he seemed to be fine with it. “I know I just wanted to make sure of some things” he says vaguely with a dismissive wave as he reads the report Grayson had delivered, and as if on cue Grayson poked his head inside the office “doctor zayne I took the liberty to ask for equipment maintenance” He says.

“Thank you dr.Grayson”

“Yeah I mean after those inaccurate result of miss hunter I thought it was appropriate to do so, it be a miracle for her heart to be in that great shape in such-”

“You can leave dr. Grayson”

The other doctors cheeked flushed as he mumbles out apology and steps outside. You sat there, still. Surely Dr. Zayne is too smart for your bullshit right he can obviously see through it. Panic bubbles inside your heart again but before you could even formulate your next move he spoke up.

“You should get back to work too” zayne says, making you look back at him “I have ... .things to do”.

“Right! Yes, of course” you sat up from your seat hastily turning towards the door “see- see you on my next appointment” you said finding yourself to be looking forward to seeing him again, to revive that kind of care and attention again, one you only thought happened in fantasy…well you were living in one now.

Zayne lip curled into a slight smile, observant eyes softening in to tenderness. 

“Sooner then that I hope” the way he says it make your heart soar and you couldn't help but grin back “yes, of course”

As you exited the room, you noticed a movement zayne hunched over putting your recent test report in the paper shredder

—-

You had just stepped outside the hospital feeling giddy, the Sunshines on your skin spread in warmth over your body, there was a skip in your step as you walked. This wasn't as bad as you thought you could enjoy it till you woke up back in your world right? No harm in that, sure it will be hard to leave them but….

Your train of thoughts vanishes when an eerie feeling creeps up your back, that feeling of female intuition that puts you on high alert.

You are being watched.

You look up and around to see any signs of a mechanical crow but there was none. Hell you even retraced your step to make sure but there was no sign of anybody following.

“Caleb you sexy freak if that's you I swear…” you mumble as you continue in your direction before your phone buzzes. Captain Jenna had given you a day off. Apparently it was the doctor's order? But did not zayne just tell you to go back to work?

You decide to text zayne and ask why but a car, a gorgeous one at that, stopped right beside you followed by rather loud honking. You couldn't believe you couldn't escape catcallers even in a fictional world. You were going to ignore like always but of course that was not how it was going to go. “Hey cutie get in!” If it weren't for that voice you would not have looked up in its direction

“Rafayel” you gasped, the sight in front of you almost had you on your knees in broad daylight. “The one and only” the unfairly gorgeous man replies, pink pouty lips quirked in a smirk, well aware of your sinful admiration. “Now stop gawking, it's getting embarrassing, miss bodyguard” that playful lilt in his voice made your heart skip a beat, “get in now, we have places to be” he didn't even have to use his siren song to lure you into his ocean of secrets.

You got in his car without a single question, the soft face that glowed like a polished pearl under the sunlight made you forget all about those creepy feelings. “Where do we need to be?” You ask after pinching the underside of your leg to get hold of yourself.

“Tsk, don't tell me you have already forgotten? Weren't we going to find those corals that are going extinct? I need those pinkish pigments and only they have the right one, ah my miss bodyguard doesn't like me as much as I like her if she forgets so easily” he pouts.

Oh those lips. Its illegal not to kiss them right then and there

You are more than willing to get into another fatal accident, consequences be damned.

“Well I guess it's your luck then, I just got a day off” you chuckle looking outside at the view. Rafayel glances at you. Those gorgeous galaxy eyes taking your appearance neatly seated in his car. “mhm, super convenient” he says one hand one the steering as he guides the car smoothly on the roads of Linkon.

Something in his tone unsettled you and you turned back to look at him, he was whistling without a care in the world, those mischievous eyes on you again “can't get enough me huh cutie?” He says teasingly and your guards crumbled down before you could even get them up. “you know you look different” rafayel beams as the color drains out of your face. You fidget in your seat and open your mouth.

“You look so much more prettier now cutie, so lively”

His gaze lingers on you, seeing your cheeks flushed “I'd rather just spend my day looking at you instead of gathering coral” he sighs in a very dramatic fashion.

“Flatterer” you grumble, having a one sided beef with your treacherous heart for going absolutely crazy for him.

“As it takes you everywhere” he replies with a wink in your direction.

—-

“Rafayel? What corals would we find here” you said motioning at the small cafe in front of you. The sign said Destiny Cafe cafe but something was wrong. Why was it so far from the main city and in the middle of nowhere? 

You had fallen asleep since rafayel said it was quite far away, mostly because you did not trust yourself with that pretty boy.

So imagine your surprise when he stops the car in front of the lonesome café. 

“Relax cutie, we are Just making a pit stop” rafayel dismisses your concern. “We-well okay but-” you wanted to speak but was interrupted by his ringing phone. The purple haired man groaned at the name displayed, it was Thomas.

“Tell you what cutie, why don't you head in and get us a table and I'll be right there with you okay” his soft but callused hand pats your head, pretty eyes on you conveying his desire to not let you go even for a moment, you have had seen them so many times, but this intensity was real, a first. You could go through all his cards and chapters but still wouldn't find the look he was giving you now. 

This one right here was just for you. this aching desire was not animated, it was and unadulterated. A man who waited enough.

And that scared you.

“Alright” you speak softly, his soft hand trailed down to cup your cheek, a breath too long and you would have reduced to putty, easy to mold, to be sculpted by his artistic hands anyway he likes.

–

You enter the near empty cafe, aesthetic all it looked the same as the game giving a sense of calm. There was only one guy who was sitting with his back to you, you saw the lack of staff and was quite confused.

through the window you could see Rafayel in heated discussion flailing his arms around in such animated way that had you giggling “oh he is definitely the cutest” you say and not a second later a heavy arm drapes around your shoulder.

“What was that pipsqueak?”

You jumped turning to face those amethyst eyes that took your breath away. “Caleb?!?” You were happy to see him but also panicked because Rafayel was just outside. They weren't supposed to meet, at least not yet, you don't exactly remember where the game was but not here!.

“What are you doing here Caleb?” You ask him stepping away I front of him, a lame attempt to block his view of the merman thay was currently throwing a tantrum of some kind. “Aye come on pips are seriously gonna ask me that? it's our go to place we always meet here don't we?” His voice was playful and teasing but you did notice the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, screamed he knew something more than he should.

“I-I mean yeah but like i just didnt thought I'd bump into you today” you try to cover it up somehow. Caleb chuckles patting your head “I know but I am so glad to see you anyway” you had a revelation that you were actually a slut for those so you couldn't help but blush and look away to clear your throat in an attempt to not look completely pathetic. Unaware how his eyes darkened the moment crimson hues spread on your soft cheeks, “look at me pips” he says, he says his voice was breathy and caught you off guard when you look at him, those purple eyes you adored bore something far more primal then just adoration “uh ye-yes?”. He says nothing, just cups your face with both hands and squishes it ever so gently his hands felt kind of rough in a manly sort of way. “Caleb~” you whine making the man in front of you break out that teasing playful smile, he sighs “you are actually so warm and soft” he says, and no, nobody blames you for blushing as hard as were right now because who wouldn't if they were being cradled with such gentle affection.

“Thank you” you mumble and he only squishes your face harder making you whine again, you grab his wrist and pry his hand away from your face, hot or not he was still a stranger…we'll kind off.

You turned back to look at Rafayel, anxious once you see him ending the call “well Caleb don't you have things to do I don't know colonel things” you try to push a very amused Caleb away. “None actually I specially made time for my little pipsqueak” he says, and now you just felt bad trying to push him away,buy it quickly died when Rafayel turned around making his way to the cafe, it was clear he too had seen Caleb now “oh no..” You spoke softly bracing yourself to whatever awkward situation that was to come.

“Cutie I turned my back for a minute and you are already paying attention to some other man” Rafayel spoke calmly as he approached the two of you standing right next to you one armed draped over your shoulder. Rafayel did not looked too pleased.

Rafayel regarded the man with a nod that he returned, am in the midst of the pretty boy standoff you caught on to the air of familiarity between them.

“Ah yes rafayel this is Caleb” you say awkwardly pointing at the dark haired man.

Both of them turned to you now, a spark of mischief mixed with adoration they look back at each other Caleb extending out his hand “hi I am Caleb her friend nice to meet ya” he said barely controlling that grin, AND so was rafayel “hello Caleb I am Rafayel also her friend”. He says shaking Caleb's hand.

You weren't stupid you could see it so clearly that they knew each other. But why? How? Canonically it should be right.

“Ah by any chance you guys know each other?” you ask only earning a pat as a response from Caleb. His large hand goes to the back of your neck to pull up towards him. “Well you see rafayel I WAS having conversation with my pipsqueak so if you could excuses us-” he tries to pry you away only for rafayel to not budge “no I brought my cutie here and I suggest we sit down” he says sounding far more serious then he had been “ you know whatever you have to say to her you can say it in front of me” at this point you were getting worried again because it didn't seem right.

Caleb's eyes narrowed down again “it's unfair you had her for the whole ride  feom the hospit till here I get to have some time with Y/N too before-“

Your blood ran cold, it shouldn't be that name he should call, you weren't listening to what they were saying anymore, that wasn't your name in the game. It was something else, a nickname you had but not your real legal name no! “What did you call me?” You ask softly, simply. Their attention was on you again.

Panicked, both of them. The sight blared alarms in your head, something was wrong. “How did you know he picked me up from the hospital” you stepped away from rafayel, creating some space. Rafayel muttered something under his breath, Caleb looked solemn “well cutie-“ rafayel was interrupted.

“Always the quick one to pick on things aren't you little detective” Caleb says casually with an under current of intensity. Rafayel seemed just as uneasy as you “what the hell do you mean Caleb” you glare at the man much taller than you. “Caleb” rafayel says in a warning tone, the tension only thickens as the seconds go by “of save it sardines, she is bound to know that's why we brought her here, you brought her here”.

Something inside your stomach churned “I asked what the fuck.is going on!” You asked again, this time louder disguising your fear as anger.

“Now now y/n no need to be fussy, you know it and we know it so let's drop all this playing by the storyline alright” Caleb tries to approach you cautiously only to be pushed away. “All you are doing is scaring her Caleb, get a grip” the slightly shorter guy held him back by his arm, you could see how desperate he was to reach out again but he didn't, for once Caleb listened solely because how you looked at them right now, threatened.

“Remember what the doc said, we need to ease it in” Rafayels words did something to him and he nodded.

 “Alright if you two are done having a moment can we talk about the fact you know we are in a game!!!” you cried out, the same force of panic takes over you, the dizzying feeling you had when you were at the apartment standing I front of the TV screen “see this is why zayne told us to break it down easy and together in his presence” rafayel snapped at Caleb who only looked guilty “you know she tends go spiral” now it was Rafayels turn to pale AMD shut his mouth looking horrified “oh very smart and you had been scolding me!” Caleb hissed at him as you staggered back “how would you know that” you asked. Not really sure if you could even bare to learn how “pipsqueak-” he tries to reach out only for you to step back, only to bump into something firm yet warm, Xavier. 

“I knew it shouldn't have been me bringing you here” he was addressing you while glaring at the two men in front of him. 

Before you can register that he was now here as well the doorbell chimed announcing the arrival of another figure, zayne.

“there seems to be tension around here” his eyes were quick to find you, icy demeanor changing into one of concern “you look unwell” he states approaching you with hurried steps but you dodged him, stepping away from Xavier and shoving past rafeyl, sending the guy straight into Caleb's arm.

The cafe was pretty small you had nowhere to run, the only place your desperate legs took you was behind the cafe counter…as if that would do something.

“Stay back I don't as in DO NOT want to be near any of you right now!” You say quivering.

“Take it easy dear you are alright but I need you to take a deep breath for me” zayne says stepping forward with her hand stretched out as if tending a skittish animal. “I will just stay away!” You say urging him to get back, zayn understood and stops his pursuit “alright this isn't how I wanted to do this, but since someone forgot to give Caleb the wrong time we have to have this conversation like this” zayne speaks, his words pointed at his irritation towards Caleb who just scoffed “as if you can outsmart me’ he grumbled but was ignored.

“are you aware you are in the game Love and deep space” the doctor asks

“Yes, are you aware you are part of the said game” you answered along with the question of your own.

a beat of silence, “yes” the doctor answers the rest nods.

Before the conversation could continue there was a sound akin to mechanical purr the halts every one and make you climb a random shelf.

“He is here” Xavier announces. While zayne breathes a sigh of relief, Rafayel and Caleb groan and roll their eyes.

“Oh the party started without me? Tsk how mean” deep silky voice, dipped in lust and pleasure booms through the cafe.

Red cunning eyes on you, mirth comes alive in them as he sees you on that shelf, annoyed. skittish and oh so very adorable.

“Ah would you look at that, a real life kitten.”

—

You looked at the five men standing in front of you.

Xavier, the prince, the neighbor. Stands tall desmour wrapped in polished manners and elegance. 

Rafayel, the merman, the artist. Effortless grace and elegance tainted with worry.

Caleb, the fallen soldier, the childhood friend. If strength and intensity was a person it was him.

Zayne, the messenger, the doctor. Stands there radiating aura of serenity AND Reliability.

Last but definitely not the least. 

Sylus, the dragon, the underworld lord and ally. A beautiful combination of power and passion.

And then there was you.

Simple and unremarkable you.

—

“So let me get this straight” you spoke after a whole session of zayne breaking down the reality to you, as all six of you sit together on the table, three table joined together so that the five stupidly large men can sit on one side and you the other since you refused to sit with any of them. It looked like you were being interviewed by a board of something elite, a modeling agency or by a network of powerful men looking for disposable minion.

“you are telling me that you have been Aware of your existence as a game character way before the accident” you say.

“Precisely” sylus says taking over the conversation after zayne. Rafayel and Caleb were still not allowed to talk. Xavier made sure of that.

“You were spying on me?” Your tone was accusatory. “No that's not it, we could only interact when you logged in on the game” sylus says casually but something in your heart wasn't convinced. “Still why didnt you make me aware should have said something in the chats we had anything” frustration was evident in your tone.

“Oh be for real you wouldn't have beloved us cutie” rafayel said only for Xavier's palm to cover his mouth “what did we say, no talking till she truly gets the entirety of her situation”.

Sylus ignored all that and continued “its true you would have thought its the game talking, and well you wouldn't have suspected it…you know since the beta testing update” sylus ads carefully his he looked laid back but he was ready. To take action if needed. “Wait…no do not tell me” your eyes widen met with sheepish grins

Oh you should have known.

That fucking Beta testing team invite

Of fucking course.

It had started simple, like glitches and bugs. Them acting weird, almost skittish, mc completely glitching out and the LIs acting out of character. They started from looking actually offended at you constant touches to being amused. Quality time becomes a bit more intimate as they tend to stare a lot. The text box got specific ie AND diverse in responses. Something that wasn't happening to others.

Until one day, the game completely blacks out and shuts down for days. Would not even uninstall. You were worried since you had spent a lot of time and money on that game and did not want to lose the progress. And of course that unhealthy attachment to the guys themselves. You emailed Infold, but never heard back.

Just when you lost hope the game was back up new and improved!

When you launched it all happy and giddy you revived an official notice inside the game to become the super VIP beta tester, a compensation for causing you worry.

You signed the fuck up.

It came with an NDA and you did not care. This was the best compensation ever!

And the feature? Whew now you can have actual chat with the LIs! And interact with them FOR REAL.

Technology am I right?!?!

If you only knew….

___

“So I wasn't talking to mindless bots but actually you guys” you exasperated AMD earned solmem nods.

“I know it's a lot to take in, that's why I, as your official doctor, suggested we should give you a day or two.” zayne sys only to be shut down by Xavier “no she is here in a new world the sooner she is aware of her situation the better or it could be dangerous” he says.

“I actually agree with the bunny for once.” Caleb says 

“Okay no one asked you Bucky” rafayel cuts in between earning a glare from the purpled-eyed man who was quick to grab his collar.

“alright that's enough” syylus says With a finality in his tone as he gets up “she had enough excitement for one day look how pale she is” he said motioning towards you.

“No I am okay, I need more answers. I am not done with my questioning” you say, as stubborn as always. “How did I get here? Where is mc? what am I supposed to-Mmph” zayne silenced you with a pastry he produced from who knows where.

“All your questions will be answered one by one please take care of your health for now, sylus is right you have enough excitement for one day” he says also standing up, the rest naturally followed.

The doctor's keen eyes could already see the protest forming on your lips.

“You will be no help to yourself if you are sickly, you don't work well after burn out” he says, making your words die in your mouth, this guy actually knew you.

They actually knew you.

“So what now” she asked awkwardly “am I like? MC now? Do I fight wanderes?”

“Nope”

“You don't have too”

“Absolutely not I have seen your skills, subpar at best”

“if you really want to feel the thrill of taking a life I can arrange that in a controlled environment sweetie”

They all glared at Sylus who only had a casual smirk on his face, ready to fulfill any of your whims.

Xavier who had yet to comment moved close to you, his warm hand and pretty blue eyes brought you sort of calmness you had felt only so rarely “I get it starlight, you feel overwhelmed and all I have requested few days off on your behalf from the quarters take it fully process everything” once again you felt your body relax in his presence “thank you Xavier I promise I will do my best to be a good hunter” no way in hell you are going to sit around and to nothing when you have a chance to kick ass.

 “Okay romeo step back” AMD suddenly rafayel was in the middle of you two. “I just want to let you know you don't have to stress to much we are not connected to the game anymore, we have separate ourselves from the mainframe and there is nothing you should be worried about doing all that battle and stuff” he says “thank you rafayel but I kind of want to, but I'd be careful” she says and he only nods knowing you won't change your mind.

“so this uhm- world is separated from the rest of the game?” You ask to clarify and Caleb was the one who answered “yep realized, we can't truly communicate with you until and unless we have been separate out entirely so we rewrote the whole thing” he says and you won't deny it sounded impressive “wow the whole thing? Thats kinda cool that you did that”

“For you sweetie, anything” voice belonging to sylus spoke, suddenly from behind you. His words had you blushing hard. The man before you smiled “and here I thought I'd never actually get to see it” caleb, sighs his head tilted as he just studies you from his place.

You had to clear your throat to calm the Raving butterflies in your stomach. “ERM so like no updates and all” you tried to steer back the topic to safe yourself further embarssment “mhm none”

“So what about the 6th LI”

Your words caused a heavy silence and instant regret, they looked mildly offended and mostly pitiful. Except for zayne who just deadpans giving you a once over “why? Are five men not enough to sate you?”

Somebody delete me right now.

You were so flustered and embarrassed you choked on your words dissolving the tension into amusement. Cursing yourself in your head you began walking towards the door to escape.

“You know what I should go it's late I am kind of tired and hungry and like Xavier said I really need to like process and all so like yeah thanks for the meltdown-I mean breakdown I guess I will see you around-” you were cut off you bumped straight into the glass door, none of the guys bothered to even shuffle their laugh, even zayne grinned at the sight “I wish I could just delete myself” you grumble 

“You aren't going anywhere kitten, you don't even know where we are or how to get back” sylus says grabbing his leather jacket and helmet “I'll drop you, besides Mondays are mine” he says smugly making Caleb groan “I did not agree to that time table” he sya “no one cares, the rest did” zayne replies, which made him huff.

“Wait what time table” you asked

“We came up with a time table we each get to hang out with you without the interruption from others” sylus answered “Monday is mine”.

“I got Tuesday” rafayel says “so tommorw I'll show you my painting and you can tell me how much you love them” he says sound genuinely excited and you couldn't help but match the energy.

“I got Wednesday since thats when I have normally nothing scheduled” zayne says “that day is reserved entirely for you now” he says making you feel warm 

“I got Thursday, nobody likes Thursday” Caleb says huffing again and you couldn't help but grin at his petulant look “I would like Thursday if I get to spend it with you” the moment you said it you witnessed a grown man turned into a puppy before he could wag his tail Xavier cuts him off “And I hot Friday!” he said “not for any particular reason but because you on time said it was your favorite day” he says and you could obviously see what he was trying to do.

You smiled at them already feeling better while being surrounded by their genuine adoration for you. One that couldn't be fake “oh you…I can't believe I am almost glad I slipped into coma” you say chuckling to your self unaware of the wave of unease and confusion the washed over them but before they could speak zayne reaches out to pat your head “go with sylus and rest okay” he says, changing the topic instantly “yeah pipsqueak get some rest” even Caleb joined in on it, and Sylus did not waste a second to guide you out to his bike.

“So she doesn't know”.

CHAPTER 3: THE VESSEL.

oh look at you, such a pretty flower. So easy to pluck from the root planted into another. I won't deny it was so delicious to see you crumble, so ridiculous to see you fascinated and absolutely hilarious to see you flustered. Such entertainment.

For me

Sweet girl, do you love it? Bathing in their attention, just as you oh so desperately wanted, hmm. Are you happy now? Far from your world and into the unknown, does that make that heart of yours fill with excitement.

Finally, finally you are important. Something that can not be overlooked. something actually needed.

You wanted to be me! Isn't that what your ungrateful self wanted? To ditch the life you had and be pixelated. Wasn't it fun to play with me? Use me and then be fucking envious of me? Your vessel.

I guess you should thank me for fulfilling your dream.

To make you so important for a world that it would die without you. Well now you have it, it's now your burden to bear.

I could have just let you go…

Let that pathetic life end right there. What good did you make of it anyway, if all you end up doing was be jealous pixelated one? Likes of you don't deserve the gift of free will. It should have been me instead.

I wanted to know what freedom tastes like, what it's like to do things on your own accord, to have full control of your body, to speak what you must but no.

All I got was scripted words to repeat, forced interaction with those mumbling fools who somehow fell for you, why?

just because you were real? With real laughter, real joy and real tears?.

As your perfect vessel who had it all I brought you here on this plane of existence, with my resonance and energy manipulation borrowed from the glorified lizard. I held on to that soul, energy so strong and powerful that for a moment all I wanted was to have it all to myself.

My freedom.

My body.

My words.

Sucks that I couldn't, not entirely at least, but it did help me tear away from this suffocating existence, reducing me to…

Hah!

I am still nothing.

Fuck !

There is a price to pay for every wish, and when the time comes I will be back to collect the penance.

Because I deserve it, I get to have my entertainment too. Now we both can play together.

AN: dang its long. Anyways I hope you like it I have currently so many ideas hoi g through my brain right now, there us so much I want to do with it. The fic is inspired by the follow I g idea I had. Hopefully you like it, ideas AMD criticism are welcome if its constructive and creative.

[kittylicksxx]

Fluff to balance the angst on my dash

Omg! I just read your Zayne fluffy oneshot "Lonely" AND IT'S SOOO GOOD!! Whoever request you is so genius! And your writing are good too!! I'm here to send a request... (Since I craving more of a pregnancy story with Zayne). Here's my idea : MC had a fake contraction when Zayne isn't around. She doesn't know it was a fake contraction, so she immediately called her husband in panic. After that he gave her a whole day lecture something like that. But then, MC protested that it was his fault for keep working late. The argument ended when Zayne got an emergency call so he had to leave immediately when MC was still pouting about it. Do you get it? I'm not good at words, hopefully you understand 😩😩

I'm hoping you also mean fluff because that's what I ended up with after all 😂 Well... I only write fluff, so I guess it was going to be fluff either way... 🫶🏻😩

And no worries, I gotchuuu! I'm also someone who has a difficult time with words. My writing is crisp because it went through A LOT of editing, research, and flipping through the dictionary 🥹🫶🏻 and I agree the first request is genius, hella cute and this add to it as well! (Also I'm sorry I change the after the call part but I thought this work well! Let me know what you think)

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Love

Summary

When an unexpected moment of unease catches you off guard, you do what you’ve been told to do—you call him. And even through the distance, his voice is steady, reassuring. But maybe… it’s not just comfort you’re searching for. Maybe what you really need is for him to come home.

Ao3 link

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Technically, this could be a separate universe, but it also fits right in the middle of the first story as well! Either way, Enjoy! 🥰

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You’re just about to sit down when you feel it—a sudden jolt of discomfort deep in your stomach. It’s not exactly pain, not sharp enough to make you gasp, but enough to make you pause. Your hand instinctively comes to rest over your bump, thumb rubbing slow circles over the stretched fabric of your shirt.

Cramps aren’t unusual at this stage. You’re in your second trimester, and little aches and twinges come with the territory. So you shake it off, exhaling softly as you settle onto the couch, phone in hand.

You flip open the novel you were planning to read, but your attention drifts almost immediately. You could read, sure, but now you’re thinking about holding a real book in your hands. The way the pages feel under your fingers, the crisp scent of new paper. Maybe you should convince Zayne to take you to the bookstore soon—if he’s not too busy. Or maybe that grill place you've been craving since yesterday is open today.

You huff, tapping idly at your screen. It’s not like you don’t understand his job. He’s a doctor, a fantastic one at that, and you’re immensely proud of him. But knowing doesn’t stop you from wanting. From missing him.

It’s probably just the hormones talking. You try to shake off the thought and refocus on your book.

But just after you finish one page, you feel the aches again. Your stomach tightens—uncomfortably so. Not sharp, but deep. A pressure that lingers, almost taunting.

Your breath catches. That’s—that’s different. It doesn’t fade right away, and a strange sort of urgency prickles at the back of your mind. Your palm presses against the firmness of your belly, fingers twitching slightly.

It doesn’t go away.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’ll pass in a minute. But… what if it doesn’t?

"Okay..." you murmur to yourself. "Maybe... I should just..."

Your thumb hovers over your screen, another hesitation, before you press the emergency call button, your heartbeat suddenly loud in your ears.

The call barely finishes its second ring before a familiar voice answers.

"Yes?"

Just hearing Zayne’s voice eases some of your anxiety—but not all.

"Um..." You wince as the sensation moves lower, not increasing but persistent, refusing to be ignored.

"Darling?" His voice spikes slightly, alert. "Something wrong?"

"I—" You pause, trying to find the right words. "I don’t know. Something feels off."

There’s a brief silence. "Lower stomach? Upper? Or somewhere else?" Zayne asks, his voice steady.

You hesitate. "Lower stomach, I think? It’s not exactly pain—just an odd, lingering pressure." Taking another deep breath between your words.

"Sharp or dull?"

"...Dull."

"Alright. You’re already regulating your breath—that’s a good start." His voice is softer now, gentle but firm. A grounding force against the growing unease inside you. It's a good thing at this point, because you feel yourself panicking a little bit. The feeling still hasn’t faded. How long has it been? A minute? More?

You're still around seven months at this point, and all you can think of is labor contractions. That is not a good outcome.

There’s a pause, then his tone softens slightly. "Try lying down—slowly. Tell me if it changes."

"Okay... Yeah..." You move to recline, but pause. "Wait—aren’t you supposed to walk around during contractions?"

"Don’t." His response is instant, clipped but controlled. You can almost hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re alone. I can’t, in good conscience, let you walk around while you’re in pain."

"Well, it’s not really pain—"

Your word gets cut off when you hear him saying your name. Not scolding, not impatient. Just firm. Steady.

Very him.

You shut your mouth, swallowing down the argument. It can wait.

Carefully, you ease yourself back against the couch cushions. You brace yourself on the backrest, moving in slow increments, exhaling with each adjustment.

The tightness begins to fade.

You hear a muffled voice in the background—someone asking Zayne a question. He must cover the receiver because you can’t make out the words, but when he returns, his voice is as steady as ever. "Darling? How is it?"

"Better," you admit, rubbing slow circles over your stomach.

"That’s good. When did the first one start?"

You hesitate.

"How do you know this wasn’t the first?"

There’s a pause. A knowing silence.

You huff. "Fair enough. I think about five minutes ago? Maybe longer. I wasn’t keeping track, I thought it was just cramps."

"Hmm. And now?"

You push yourself up slightly, careful not to move too fast. "It’s gone now."

You let out another slow breath, feeling a little ridiculous now. You just interrupted your husband at work for nothing. Maybe you should apologize—but then again, isn’t this what he always tells you to do? Call him if anything feels off?

There’s a slight exhale on the other end of the line—subtle relief. "That’s good. I think it’s safe to say it was false labor contractions."

Ah. Now you remember. Yes. You’d read about it before, but in the moment, all rational thinking had gone out the window.

"You don’t feel anything else?" Zayne asks.

"No," you murmur. Then, a little sheepishly, "Sorry. I completely forgot about false labor. What was it called again? We read about it, but I just... panicked."

"Braxton Hicks," he supplies easily. "And don’t apologize for being cautious. Precaution is never a bad thing."

There’s another muffled sound on his end, someone calling for him.

"Ah, right," you say, feeling a little guilty, but also a little bitter. But you shake the feeling away. "You should go, I’m fine now—"

"No," he cuts in, voice still soft. "I still have time."

You feel a warmth in your chest at that.

But then, his tone shifts, just a fraction firmer. "Now, did you overexert yourself? Or forget to drink water?"

"I drink my water!" you insist.

You don’t answer the other question.

Because, well... You may or may not have spent the morning rearranging the living room. Specifically the sofa.

The silence from the other end stretches for a beat too long. Then—

A sigh.

"If you need something, just tell me. I’ll do it for you."

The words are simple. No irritation, no exasperation. Just pure sincerity.

And somehow, that’s what makes the loneliness bubble up, unbidden.

You press your lips together, fingers tightening slightly around your phone. You’re fine. He’s busy. He’s saving lives, for God’s sake, and you’re sitting here whining about missing him?

The thought doesn’t help. The weight in your chest doesn’t go away.

You swallow hard, trying to push it down, barely more than a breath at first. "I was just—" You catch yourself too late, lips pressing together, but the words have already slipped out. "Lonely," you finish, softer this time, as if saying it quieter might make it less real.

And then, once it’s out, it won’t stop. “And then this happened, and you weren’t here, I mean you’re barely around and I just—I don’t know!”

The second the words leave your mouth, you slap a hand over it, eyes going wide.

Shit.

He doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a pause, just long enough that you wonder if the call dropped—then you hear his quiet inhale. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more careful. "I’m sorry."

Another pause. Then, just as gentle, "Today, I should be home on time."

You freeze, pulse jumping. That wasn’t supposed to come out. “I mean—” You force out a light laugh, waving a hand as if brushing it off. “Not like— I wasn’t upset or anything, just, you know… hormones?” You grasp at the excuse, but it’s a weak defense.

“Darling.”

His voice alone is enough to make your throat tighten. You shake your head quickly, as if he can see that too. “No, really, I mean yes, I miss you, of course. How could I not? But I don’t blame you, alright?”

A soft inhale on the other end of the line. “I miss you too. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you soon.”

His voice is steady, warm—so sincere it makes your chest ache.

"You don’t have to make up for anything," you murmur, though your throat feels tight.

"I do," he says simply. "I know I haven't been around as much as I'd want to. But that doesn't mean I don’t think about you all the time."

You sniffle. Oh, no. Here it comes. You are not about to cry over this.

Zayne hears it instantly. “Darling?”

“No, no, don’t—” You swipe a hand under your eyes. “You’re being too sweet, stop it.”

A quiet chuckle comes through the phone, warm and affectionate. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“Well, don’t.” You groan, tipping your head back against the couch.

His voice drops into something even softer, something almost intimate. “You know I’d rather be home with you, right? I’d rather be next to you right now, holding you, rubbing your back, listening to you rant about whatever new thing annoyed you today.”

You sniffle again, unable to stop yourself.

He sighs, indulgent. “Wipe your tears for me,” he murmurs. “I can’t do it right now.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. That is way too much. You cover your face with both hands, your phone barely on your grip, voice muffled when you groan, “Zayne.”

“Yes?”

“That’s too cute. Stop that.”

He hums, amused, like he’s not single-handedly making your heart explode. “I meant what I said,” he continues, like he’s speaking just for you. “I know it’s hard. And I know you’ve been lonely. But you’re not alone, alright? You never will be.”

A shaky breath escapes you. You can’t even answer that because you might actually start full-on sobbing.

Before you can pull yourself together, a voice calls his name in the background, sharp with urgency.

There’s a brief pause before he exhales. “Sorry, I have to go. Emergency.”

You sit up a little straighter, still trying to blink the tears away. “Don’t say sorry for doing your job,” you say quickly, before he even gets the chance.

A beat of silence. Then, quietly, “I love you.”

Your chest tightens again, but this time in the best way possible. “I love you too.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

And then the line clicks off, leaving you sitting there with a slightly damp face, fully in love, and no idea how you’re supposed to wait for him to come home after that.

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

By the time Zayne gets home, the apartment is quiet, the lights are dim. His footsteps are careful as he steps inside, taking in the familiar scent of home.

But something is off.

His gaze flickers toward the living room, and his brows knit slightly. The sofa—it's not where it usually is. Only slightly shifted, but enough for him to notice.

A quiet sigh leaves him. So that’s why. No wonder.

And there you are—curled up on the living room sofa, blanket draped haphazardly over you, lips slightly parted as you breathe in steady, even rhythms.

Shaking his head, he moves closer, reaching down to carefully lift you, but the moment his hands brush against you, your lashes flutter. You stir, and then, before he can even say anything, you immediately reach for him, fingers gripping weakly at his sleeve as your sleepy voice murmurs, “Welcome home.”

His expression softens instantly. He leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of your head. “I’m home.”

You hum, eyes barely open, still clinging to him. He pulls back slightly, studying your drowsy face, and his lips press into a thin line. “I told you not to sleep here anymore.”

You yawn, stretching lazily. “It just turned out that way.”

Zayne lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed. His fingers brush lightly against the armrest, confirming his suspicion. “…And moving the sofa helped with that?”

Your expression flickers—too quickly. Suspiciously. “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zayne exhales sharply, almost a laugh, but doesn’t push. Instead, he watches you, unimpressed but fond.

Then, before you can argue further, your gaze flickers past him—and you gasp.

“Grill meat!”

Zayne barely has a second to react before you’re fully awake, scrambling up as you spot the takeout containers on the coffee table. You turn back to him with wide, excited eyes. “You got it! It's open today?!”

His lips twitch. “You’ve been talking about it for two days. I wasn’t about to come home empty-handed.”

You beam. Absolutely beam. It’s almost too much for him. Almost.

Zayne steps forward, already reaching for the bag to open it for you, but you immediately scold him, smacking his arm lightly. “No—go change first! You just got back, you should wash up or—whatever you need to do! I can wait.”

Zayne exhales, the sound a soft mixture of amusement and surrender. “You’re so impatient, but now you’re suddenly willing to wait?”

You huff. “Well, yeah! I’m feeling generous, so go now.”

He snorts, watches you for a second longer, as if considering pushing back, but then shakes his head. “Alright,” he says simply. “I’ll be quick.”

When he returns—now dressed in sweats and a plain tee—you’re already sitting cross-legged on the couch, takeout bag in front of you like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

“Finally,” you say, eagerly patting the space beside you. “Come on, doc, you deserve a break.”

With a quiet breath, Zayne settles beside you, reaching to open the containers. Warm, savory steam fills the air, and you practically melt.

“Oh my God,” you whisper reverently. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Zayne watches as you take your first bite, the way your eyes flutter shut in pure bliss.

His lips press together like he’s holding something back.

But then, instead of teasing you immediately, his gaze softens just a fraction. “I really do love seeing you happy,” he murmurs, voice softer than before.

You pause mid-chew. The warmth in his tone catches you off guard, settling somewhere deeper than just the comfort of food or his presence. Your lips part slightly, something unspoken lingering on your tongue—

“Didn’t you say you could wait?”

You blink, barely processing the shift before narrowing your eyes. “...That was before I smelled it.”

“Hm.” He picks up his chopsticks, eyes flicking between you and the food. “And here I thought your love for me was unwavering.”

“It is,” you say immediately. Then, with a dramatic sigh, “But love won’t fill my stomach, Zayne.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

“You married this, by the way,” you remind him, grinning. “Willfully.”

Zayne barely fights off the curve on his lips, eyes glinting with amusement. “...Unfortunately.”

You gasp. “Take it back!”

“Hmm. No.”

“Zayne!” You reach out to smack his arm.

He only chuckles, catching your wrist easily before letting his fingers slip between yours. The motion is effortless, natural. You don’t even think about it—you just hold on.

His hand is cool against your skin, but his presence is warm, grounding. The laughter, the quiet intimacy of shared meals, the way his fingers stay laced with yours—it settles something in your chest.

For tonight, it’s enough.

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

Notes

Ugh I love fluff 🫶🏻😩 Sue me 😂

[kittylicksxx]

I am such a whore for yandere lads, I would let him babytrap me I swear

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗦

— Zayne's an expert for fixing things including heart related problems and yours wasn't an exception. He can take apart your heart and fill the holes of your once shattered heart but can he really do it? When it is you who's refusing him now?

⁺₊❆⋆ — notes. thank you for sticking until the end. i apologize in advanced for where this fic is going. if you can tell, i'm dumb af in everything and it does not exclude my own writing.

⁺₊❆⋆ — taglist. @fandomenbylover @vurelliex @hi-itsmee28 @mentaltrouble2201 @agustdxjiminx @aboobie @samoankpoper21 @sylusgirlie7 @crazy-ink-artist @twilightsmissingfur @traumaramacenter @zeskyzed @lucifers-silhouette @milkmily @sillyfreakfanparty @babygirlarchives @what-is-this-fangirl-life @furinaaa1

⁺₊❆⋆ — content warnings. heavy angst + description of injuries + car accident + blood + hospitalization + medical inaccuracies + implied noncon/dubcon + arguments + stalking + possessiveness + sabotage + grave injuries + jealousy + arranged marriage + lots of crying + ooc zayne + yandere themes + lots of grammatical errors + rushed ending.

READ PART ONE HERE.

It was a drunk driver.

The collision caused by someone behind the wheel under the influence of alcohol. Multiple witnesses stated that it was swerving side by side. Hitting the concrete barriers before occupying the next lane where misfortune is bestowed upon you. The car drifted before crashing into your car. You didn't have the time to avoid it for your mind merely registered what was happening — struggling to grasp your situation before you can hit the brakes.

Zayne was about to clock out for the night. Petrichor lingered in the moist earth and along with it, comes the night breeze caressing his skin. Then, he hears the familiar wail of the ambulance. The blue and red light dances in his vision as the vehicle approached — the sound of multiple footsteps echoed in the once silent medical bay.

Although Zayne was familiar with the emergencies running in and out of the hospital — there's the undeniable twist in his stomach. The wind colder and shifts into something more sinister like there was a disaster to struck and that's when the paramedics came rolling the gurney. It was you.

The surgeon wouldn't mistake it as someone else's even it was a glimpse, there was no denying it was you.

Zayne moved before his mind can think. There was no hesitation in his movements. A thousand assessments running in his mind, expecting all the possibilities and how to save you. Forgetting for a moment that a doctor isn't allowed to make diagnosis nor operate to a patient when it's their loved ones or someone they're closed to.

The reputation he even held at the moment of having accomplished multiple medical breakthroughs didn't allow him to get to you. Greyson whirring past from him as he joined the others.

For the first time Zayne have never felt so scared in his whole life, not even the time when he lost control of his Evol. Helplessly watching you disappear between the double doors and to plunge into unknown. No assurance of what to come. He sees you on his mind. It wasn't the angry tears streaming down your face that you desperately wiped that keep repeatedly playing on his mind — it was you drowning in your own blood.

He didn't even notice the crystalline layer of ice creeping up on his arms and to his shoulders. Blooming like flowers in his neck and covering his cheek.

SURGERY IN PROGRESS — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

It's been hours and long surgery hours means the trauma ranges from severe to grave circumstances. It wasn't his first gig to tell how worst a injury is. It was the results and results is the only thing that mattered to him.

Patience was Zayne's strong suits but from how the clock ticks by, every second and minute passing by and the coldness circulating in the ward — he was slowly losing it.

Greyson emerged within moments later. Surprised at him lingering outside the operating room.

“Dr. Zayne.” Greyson paused in greeting. His nerves settling in at the man in front of him before clearing his throat. He knows Zayne didn't want the unnecessary thoughts or what. He simply wanted to know the details.

“She's stable for now....” Greyson drawls out, trying to discern Zayne's reaction but was meet with the same stoic reaction. However the green in his eyes seems to darken and Greyson suddenly feels uncomfortable. “The injuries she sustained were beyond what we hoped to repair.” The spectacled brunette continued.

“The impact were severe and we were informed that the airbag of her car didn't deploy during the impact. She took the full force of the crash — multiple rib fractures caused internal bleeding we have to intervene before it got worst.”

Greyson paused again. His words dying out before coming out again. He feels like an intern again being poked out like a laboratory specimen under Zayne's cold gaze.

“The next hours will be critical for her, Dr. Zayne. She will be monitored closely and we will see how her condition progress.” That's all Greyson needed to say before leaving. He glances behind him. Dr. Zayne was really capable of showing stronger emotions. Greyson pondered while he walked. All the years he worked being an assistant to Zayne — is the first for seeing him like that. He's capable but to those who manage and it wasn't you.

Perhaps it was guilt that ate him up and Greyson couldn't care less about it. It wasn't his place to judge someone, not to Dr. Zayne.

Zayne made his way towards your room before going to his usual rounds with the other patients. His footsteps echoing in the quiet ward. It was barely morning when he came. A few hours reduced in his sleep when his nightmares consists of you — behind the steering wheel.

“You wanted this.”

He hears you say in his dreams. Blood bubbling up in your throat and the corners of your mouth trickles with the crimson liquid as you cough up more of your blood. Staring at him with your eyes slowly being drained of life. Your body riddled with cuts and your blood flowing from your arms as it drips in the concrete road. You drowning in your own pool of blood.

It was two days before the accident after your outburst. He was disconcerted after that when his gaze meets the cold hard door that you slammed shut. He never seen you so hurt before or he got used to you being silent and having to bear the burdens of him brushing you aside.

He was selfish. Taking you for granted and failing how you slowly turned miserable in this arrangement. He knows no love would bloom in this agreement for his heart belonged to someone else before he knew it and you knew it too.

In your own little ways you loved him without realizing and it destroyed you in the end.

The door slides automatically. Zayne had gotten used to the smell of disinfectants and clean linen in rooms but the never the sight of you laying still in the bed. Dead to the world outside. You would hate to see him being in the same room.

The room's dim and cold. Curtains shut cause it was needed for patients like you.

He checked your vital signs. Stable but never awake. Zayne thinks you're floating in your consciousness without planning to wake up cause he was with you. Waiting and watching. But how could you wake up when within a few hours of the surgery the night you were brought in. A bleeding in your brain was found causing seizures.

His colleagues have said that it was a miracle that you pulled through. Operations after operations was done and if you were weaker — you would have died before the next complications start.

The soft beeping of the monitors can be heard along with the air conditioner.

The cardiac surgeon pulled a chair nearby. He takes the sight of you. Bandages were wrapped around your head and there's more under your clothing. A few thin cuts in your face that was starting to heal. There's a jagged wound in your arm too. A glass shard was embedded inside upon impact. The bruises in your body were darker already entering the stages of healing.

It's already been a week now. His gaze soft towards you. He places his hand above yours. Clasping it gently and letting the warmth of your hand seep in the coldness of his own. Zayne looks back at you again and his hand holding yours. It's been long since he held it.

Should he have held your hands more? Should he assured you of what little security you needed with him? Or gave you the attention that you deserved?

None of it mattered. There's no use of pondering things that he should have done to you and for you to end up hurt by the consequences of his own shortcomings.

Zayne glances at the clock. It's time for his daily rounds with the other patients. He caresses your hand again before letting go. Adjusting the pillows for you to lay comfortably and gazes at you one last time before going out.

You woke up a month later.

It feels like you were in a deep sleep and to be awoken so suddenly. You squint your eyes for a few times. Slowly registering your surroundings. It was surreal. Weren't you just driving moments ago? And why can't you breath?

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you desperately claw the tubes connected to you. Ripping the IV line in process that your arm began to bleed out. It only stopped when multiple hands came to hold on you. Nurses rushing to your side as the alarm blares from you yanking the tubes.

It was so sudden. You were scared and confused before the pain settles and burns the entirety of your body. Everyone was a blur to you and the lights blinded you.

That was a few days ago. You've gone multiple tests to check your recovery. Aside from the few broken bones. A risk of possible seizures that was assuredly ruled out. The latest technology for medicine have worked for you minus the coma that your brain have to do. You were healing nicely.

Zayne have made his appearance after you woke up. Staying by your side and barely left you. He takes your hand in his when you wanted to walk. Assisting you in your bathroom breaks and far as going to clean you up.

“A nurse should be doing this, right?” Zayne remains emotionless. His coat draped in one of the chairs and his sleeves are rolled while he gently wiped your skin. You were still in the midst of recovery. “Yes, it's theirs but as a doctor our duty doesn't limit on surgery and medical advices.” Your lips form into a tight line while you stare at him.

Your brain may have jumbled and bleed but you still remember the night where you poured all those bottled feelings to him and it still hurts. You wished you've gone what most comatose patients undergo through after waking up is that having their memories temporarily wiped or maybe completely.

Ignorance is bliss. That's what you lived for and you're about to abide by it — again.

Zayne noticed the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. He puts the damp cloth aside. Examining your face for any signs of discomfort. “Are you feeling any pain?” He asks softly and you shaked your head. “Just tired.”

I'm so tired of you. Of us.

It feels you were back to square one again. This time your tolerance for pain must upped cause it doesn't hurt anymore than it used to aside from the pain of your wounds healing. “I want to be left alone.” You mutter. Pushing yourself to the bed and propping against the pillow. Zayne pulls your blanket to cover you. He longingly stares at you and nods.

“You can call me anytime you want.”

You just closed your eyes and pretended you didn't hear him.

After a week of multiple scans, therapy and rehab, you were discharged. A follow up check-up were needed. You didn't care about it. All you can think is you're out from the hospital and you won't be seeing Zayne again or you hope so.

“I can take myself home.” You protested. Standing outside of Akso Hospital waiting for a taxi, Zayne beat you to it. His white coat long abandoned and was replaced by a darker one. You assumed he was just taking you outside until you see his familiar black Audi A6.

He didn't leave room for any arguments as he placed your bag in the backseat. He's assisting you even being seated in his car. Zayne hears you huff and see your round cheeks puffed up. You weren't good at hiding your frustrations. He paid it no mind before starting the engine of his car and he drives you home.

The car came to a stop outside of the black familiar gates. You raised a brow at him. “Do you need to pick something from your house?” You fiddle at your seatbelt. Zayne gave you a curt answer. “No.” Opening the door of his car, he turns around to open yours.

“What do you mean?”

“You are still recovering. A bed rest is needed for you to recuperate fast.”

Your brows scrunched up. “Then I can do that at my home. I don't want to be here.” Zayne ducks towards you, a click can be heard as he pulled the seatbelt. He shakes his head, unconvinced.

“Multiple rib fractures, a brain that is still at risk for developing future seizures. You need a professional to be with you and I'm more than capable of taking care of you. It's also beneficial for us to live under the same roof since we're about to be wed.” He say without stopping. Stating the pros and cons on what about to come and clearly, you didn't have a choice.

The last part made you snort. Bubbling in your throat before studying his expression that remains the same.

“Wed? You're going to torture yourself and me by continuing that? Come on, Zayne. It's not too late for us to end this. We'll have our separate ways and you will get your happy ending. Don't always try to play the thoughtful son. I'm sure daddy and mommy will understand you and so are mine.” You sighed, shaking your head in surrender.

“We're both adults.” You muttered under your breath but enough for him to hear it.

“We should save this conversation for another time.” Zayne's voice the same sharp tone and you sighed.

The vast garden wasn't enough to cover the whole residence where Zayne lives. The large windows occupy most of the walls. Letting the natural sunlight in, creating a atmosphere for relaxation. A spacious living room greets you. The color schemes mixes of white and gray with a touch of greenery in the corners. There's also a mezzanine which you assume is Zayne's office. A glass window were also placed there and he can see the entirety of the living room.

This is going to be your home. Temporarily.

You won't be staying in a house that doesn't feel like home with him. Someone who's heart belonged to another. Home is where the person is and you were a stranger but a intruder is more befitting way to call it.

Zayne hovers behind you as he guides you upstairs. Afraid that you'll trip or lose balance. Although he's against of you being discharged so early in the hospital. Knowing the risk and complications that your body have to suffer due to your internal injuries but you can be so headstrong at things and to avoid certain complications he gave up to your wishes in exchange that he's supervising your whole recovery.

He stares at you. Trying to gauge at your reactions but met with the same gaze as you scan the room. Muttering a small thank you under your breath again. Resigned at your current situation with him. As someone perceptive, Zayne knows what's currently going on your mind. You were tired and is still on the process of recovering. The wounds may yet to heal on your skin but deep inside your heart was long shattered and even he's in the expertise of curing heart diseases he can't fix what he broke.

Was he this dismissive and cold towards you during the times when you tried to initiate things? Of making efforts to gain his attention? Of trying to know him since although the match is wasn't you both wanted, you wanted to have a common ground with him and only to ignore you.

“Is the bed comfortable for you?” He asks, following your movements as he watches you take a seat in the edge of the bed. “It's fine.” You shrugged. “Can you leave me alone now? We both have a long day.” Shooting him a glance before looking down to your clasped hands in your lap. “I'll be back later.” Zayne curtly nods before he stops in his tracks like he's about to say something and then decided it wasn't worth it. You hear the door shut.

After a dinner meticulously prepared by him and watching you like a hawk while you eat. Making sure you were taking spoonfuls after spoonfuls of food that your body needed. You were back in your bedroom, dressed in loose pajamas. It was engraved to you to dress in loose clothings since it was needed for better access when doctors and nurses check your vitals. It was easier and you're not putting Zayne in more work and to stay longer with you.

The few buttons of your top were undone. Zayne methodically moves the diaphragm of his stethoscope pressed in your chest. “Breathe slowly.” He instructed you and you did. You weren't embarrassed nor insecure as he listened to the sound of your heart. You were literally poked and prodded while you were undergoing surgery and Zayne have probably seen you naked during your stay at the hospital. “Breathing's good. However I advice you to be in bed rest in the next days and some light exercise will do.” Spoken like a true professional. He takes his stethoscope and you button your pajama top.

“You can call me anytime, (Y/N).” You weakly nod. Your head hitting the pillows and pulling the covers up.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Zayne says to you as he reached your bedroom door. He was only meet with silence.

In the years of Zayne being a doctor, it was common for comatose patients to experience withdrawal and he understands what you're going through at the moment. You were in coma while the world continued to spin and everyone getting on with their lives but it wasn't just withdrawal you were experiencing. There comes the fear and the guilt after your outburst. He knows you were shaken up by the moment those words left your mouth.

It was his fault. He never should have made you feel the way of never being enough for him. He should have made his intentions clear towards you and not let you run around circles. Throwing you in a loop and only to destroy what left of your respect towards yourself. The conversation earlier in his car replayed in his mind. You wanted him to call off the engagement and go in separate ways. You were contemplating about it for a long time and finally have the courage to tell it to his face. There was no happy ending for this arrangement but Zayne was willing to try. Start over again with you and pick up the broken pieces of your heart. That leaves him to a question, is your heart still intact for him?

Dr. Miles Peterson — Chief of Trauma Surgery.

You briefly glanced at the name plate placed in his glass table before returning to your gaze at the man that was one of who operated you after your accident. Normally, the chief isn't typically involved with the check ups but since you're the fiancee of the esteemed cardiac surgeon — Dr. Zayne, the VIP treatment was there and it doesn't bode with you well.

“So far as good, your reflexes are back to normal and after the follow up scans everything seems fine. Are you—”

Before the trauma surgeon could continue, the glass doors opened and revealed Zayne. “Excuse me.” He greets, his gaze landing on his fellow surgeon before yours.

“Oh, Dr. Zayne.” You can hear the slight waver of his voice. Clearly intimidated by Zayne's presence. It wasn't also the age of the cardiac surgeon intimidated his peers but his achievements and pioneering on his chosen field of expertise although they were different.

The trauma surgeon, Dr. Peterson gestures for Zayne to sit down in the seat across yours. “Please, do not mind me.” Zayne speaks in his professional tone. The same even and measured of his voice still commands authority even in the simplest of conversation.

“So going back, Miss. Have you been experiencing any discomfort or lingering pains in the affected areas?” Dr. Peterson continued to ask you.

Zayne can see the slight hesitation in your face. The twiddling of fingers in clasped hands rested on your lap and he can see how you swallow. There's still the nervousness when you get to be questioned with certain doctors.

“She does.” Zayne cuts you off. The trauma surgeon's full attention was on him. “There's episode of phantom pains, the brain interpreting the affected nerves as signal for pain but there's no mistaking that her thoracic region is still affected by the injuries and is still in the process of healing. Aside from that the tenderness of her abdomen is long gone and is functioning well.”

“That's expected. It may take another months for it to disappear. Don't worry, Miss. With the right medication and therapy it will be gone in no time.” He explains and Dr. Peterson noticed the glare you were giving Zayne.

Uh, oh. Is there trouble in paradise? He thought to himself. It was the same look his wife gave to him. Sensing the tension in the air, he briefly ends the discussion.

This one was new scene unfolding in front of him. The great Dr. Zayne is having trouble with his relationship. He guessed not all relationships have the perfect touch of happiness and since Dr. Zayne is young, it was bound to happen. He lets out an exhale. Relationships sure takes hardwork.

“You don't have to accompany me in every check-up. I can manage it on my own.” You started, Zayne was starting to annoy you with his constant hovering over you.

“It is necessary. I need to know everything that happens to your body since I take care of you.” Zayne calmly explained as you walked besides him. His white coat abandoned and underneath that coat he usually wears is his three-piece neutral colored suits.

“I'm going home.” Spinning your heel around towards the nearest exit but before you can take a step, Zayne stops you. “No, I'm taking you home. Let me grab my things and we can go home.”

Fuck. Why was he so adamant in being this around to you? It was suffocating. If you were the same person before you got tired of him, of chasing him — you have jumped out of joy earlier but now, you want to be treated like air again.

It was difficult.

Zayne pushes the shopping cart while you walked besides him in the aisle of the department store. The grocery was quite depleted since you started living with him and Zayne was the one who usually picks up the needed stuff in the house along with a warm meal — it was the first time you both did it. Mindlessly and silent walking while you both take a look on the available items displayed in the shelves.

He was about to turn around when a familiar voice called out to him. It was familiar to you too. How could you forget that voice. Your body turns rigid. A lump forming in your throat. It was immediate. The tears forming at the corner of your eyes, pooling at your eyelids. You desperately fluttered your eyes in a series of blinks. Stopping the dam that was threatening to spill.

She didn't notice you. You can walk away and not see how they would lovingly gaze at each other. A silent romance that bloomed between them before time existed. You felt like a intruder. A villain who stopped them from getting their destined fate. Breaking them apart and no matter how you destroyed their bond. They will always come back and find each other.

“Zayne! Fancy seeing you here. I came to the hospital but you left early.” She cheerily greets him, her voice bubbly with the genuine air around her. She was so nice.

Sensing that you were about to run away again. Zayne firmly holds your hand in his and no matter how you tried to discreetly take your hand off him, he keeps the tight grip on yours.

“I apologize, I was accompanying my fiancee, (Y/N).” It was your time to finally meet her this close and with that, you keep your tears at bay. “Hello, nice to meet you.” Politely greeting her and even you wanted to cry, you muster the most sincere smile you can offer.

Concern was plastered to her face when she noticed the misty glazed in your eyes. “Are you okay?” She asks. You smiled at her gently. “Don't worry. It's just allergies. No biggie.” You assured her.

“Oh, I should be going to the restroom. Zayne can talk to you now.” You yank your own hand from him. Tapping his shoulder and smiling back again to her. You walked away from them with your held high and the tears that was threatening to spill earlier came rolling down your cheeks freely.

Thankfully, the restroom was vacant. Your tears were dried up, the moment you entered. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look ghastly. Shabby compared to her. You look at your sweater. Stained with the droplets of your tears. What are you a kid?

You reach our for a tissue. Dabbing it to dry the sweater. You look so stupid every time you look at her. The ugly insecurities that keeps surfacing after you buried showing up again and again. Everything's so stupid at you. Fucking choice of clothing. A oversized baby blue sweater and long dark denim skirt with white sneakers while she looks so chic in her red ruffled hem top with a open black sleeve shrug and a tight black jeans with her black combat boots.

She's everything you're not.

She's beautiful with all her charms. She holds Zayne's affections. We're you really that bad in your past life that you need to be punished so bad. To witness a love that transcends time without knowing each other and ending up in every timeline.

The texture of the tissue being repeatedly rubbed raw to your dampened cheeks caused it to sting. The tears continuously flowing and no matter how much the tissue soaks of your tears, it continues. The sink was filled with tissues soaked with your tears.

Your reflection was mocking you. Did the gods cursed you and granted you to be this ugly. You look so dumb right now. Crying your eyes out in front of the mirror and you convinced yourself you weren't hurt anymore.

By the time you were done crying, it looks like life was drained out of your face. Moisture was drawn out and your eyes are red in the rims. That's what you get for crying. You turned on the faucet and let the cold water run in your palm before splashing your face. You slapped your round cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths and checking your reflection again. Making sure your face are not that puffy than it's usual puffiness and your eyes weren't that red anymore.

It's okay. It won't hurt anymore. You tell to yourself. You'll break free from this farce of an engagement.

Zayne followed your retreating form and you got your eyes glossy again. The sight breaking his heart all over again. He looks at her. “I apologize, you can reschedule your appointment again. I must go.” He didn't wait for her response and followed you. Leaving a puzzled her and the abandoned shopping cart.

He take out his phone and presses the tracking app. It was needed. You have the tendency to wander off in your own and from the coordinates of your location you were still around the area. You weren't lying when you said you needed the restroom and Zayne waits for you outside.

“(Y/N).” Zayne calls out to you. He takes your hand in his. Linking it to his once again. “Let's go home.” Your brows furrow. “What about the groceries? What about her?” He shakes his head. The strands of his hair swaying to the movements of his head.

“It's nothing. We can do it another day. I'm sorry for forcing you out here. You're tired. Let's pick some takeout, okay?” He suggested and he pulls you closer towards him.

Was your hands were always this soft? Plush and gentle, a contrast to his own calloused hands. The slender digits perfectly fitting in your own pillowy ones. He should have held your hands more. The warmth of your own palms seeping through his colder ones. Providing him the safety of being yours.

That night, Zayne have watched you climbed up in the stairs. Shutting the door of your room. You didn't join him at dinner that night.

When Zayne made sure you were asleep. He slowly opens the door. He can make the outline of your plush body under the covers. Sleeping soundly after being jaded out by today's event. The bed dips by his added weight. Leaning towards your side. His elbow propped above your head.

He studies your expression. Gently gazing at the softness of your features. There's your eyes shut but cried so many tears because of him. You were not her. Although he feels they shared many lifetimes with no memories of it. She feels like home. The jasmines will always reminds him of her but what about you. You weren't at fault here. You loved him genuinely and in exchanged he hurt you.

Love must know sacrifices. He knows it very well. He did — a thousand times.

However when the night you were on that gurney, bleeding and unconscious. It was the first time he felt what it was truly to lose someone.

His fingertips grazes at the surface of your plump cheek. It was warm. “I keep hurting you,.... don't I?” He whispers. “I'm sorry.” It was a apology for being unfair to you.

“Mmm....” Your eyes fluttered open. Your voice riddled with sleep. “Stop hurting me, Zayne. Stop hurting us.” You slowly blinked and your breath goes back to the same steady rhythm and when he grasp your cheek. A tear rolled down from your eyes.

Of all the things he could have done. He presses a kiss to your temple. Staying for a minute by your side while he listens to your heart beat. Thump..... thump.... thump.... the sound of your heart beat, slow and steady. You were alive in his arms and the thumping of your heart lulls him to sleep and for the first time, he slept peacefully that night besides you. No nightmares to haunt him.

It must be your brain playing tricks on you or it was the side effects of your brain being squished from the accident. Last night, you went early to bed with your stomach grumbling but the tiredness washed over you then something cold grazes you. A voice whispering and you see Zayne. You mumbled something and then the drowsiness took you again and brought you back to your dreamland.

The images were eerily vivid and you can't differentiate if it occured on last night's bout. You only shrugged it off.

There's the faint sweet scent of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup as you slowly descended down from the flight of stairs and in the kitchen you see Zayne plating the warm pancakes.

He takes the glasses and placed it along besides your plates in the respective place. The steam from his mug filled with coffee dances.

“Good morning.” You greeted out of courtesy.

“We should eat together. You must be hungry since you didn't eat last night.” The neutral monotone voice of his is tinge with softness.

“Don't you need to be in the hospital now?” You asked out of curiosity. Lately, Zayne's been acting more hands on to you despite the speedy recovery and it totally weirded you out.

“I've got an hour before I go and you must eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and should not be missed.” He says, pulling out the barstool under the counter. You sit besides him.

Zayne watches you take a bite of your breakfast before starting on his. There's only the subtle sound of utensils clinking and a beat of silence before you broke it.

“Zayne?” You asked without looking. Focused on the delicious meal in front of you.

The surgeon pauses and then hums in acknowledgement. “I'm continuing my work at the museum.” You revealed to him and it's not like he can dictate what you want to do.

Working in one of the biggest museums in Linkon as a curator wasn't your dream job but it's something you certainly enjoyed. You only told him as being civil to him since you live in the same roof and you can get away from him.

Your fiance puts his cup down. The green in his eyes flickering with hardness before returning to its usual pallor. “Although I'm against the idea of you being back in your work, I must say it's better for the sake of your health. You've been cooped up here for too long.” There's a tinge of reluctance in his voice but you ignored it as you angled yourself to look at him.

He meet your gaze and you offered him a small smile. It didn't reach your eyes, Zayne noticed that. It was a look of politeness and resigned at the same time. Your eyes seems dull since that accident and the unexpected meeting with her.

His fingers twitches. The slender digits rising to reach yours but forms into a curl. He knows he's making it worst towards you.

The breakfast ended with no words being exchanged after the brief conversation.

That was mistake. A poor judgement in his part.

It was a logical reason on his part to allow you back. You have your freedom and a career during the duration of your nonexistent relationship with him. Arranged but never engaged to each other's lives. It's his own words but you made the efforts to support him and be involved in his life. In which he falls short of. He treated you like you were his obligation.

Now, he's getting the taste of his own medicine.

Zayne have been staring at his phone for the last thirty minutes. Barely glancing at the reports needed to be typed, the consultations that needed to be scheduled and doing his rounds. Waiting for the text message that will never come.

It was slow. The usual things you do for him slowly disappearing right before his eyes. His desk felt empty and devoid of any bright color that usually occupies his desk. There's always a sprig of jasmine in the corner. The one that you always brought with you when you visit him. Knowing the significance of it on his life.

How painful must it be to you that the flower was a symbol of his affection towards her and you kept giving it to him as reminder of their many shared lives.

A spectator. Silently watching while your heart breaks at any given moment. You didn't beg and wistfully respected his wishes. What truly hurts you is when the times he acted like he was being forced to be in your presence and you kept silent about it. Blaming yourself entirety for his shortcomings.

Zayne takes off his silver wired glasses. He sees the time in his clock and it was time for him to clock out and pick you up.

The museum where you worked at is one of the biggest buildings in Linkon. He parks outside near the exit where he knows you'll be appearing anytime soon.

It didn't take too long for him to wait for you. He was about to open the door when suddenly a man approaches you, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You were startled at first and from the looks of your relaxed body language, you knew the person. Accepting the flowers with a grateful expression before bidding a goodbye.

You saw him but you didn't bother to hide the flowers in your hands. You only greeted him and went to his car like you always did when Zayne started picking you up after hours of your work.

You stare at the space in front of you before looking at Zayne who was doing the same. His eyes fixated on the bouquet of flowers resting in your lap. “Who is he?” Zayne asks you nonchalantly. Studying your expression with a shrug you answered him. “It's Theo from work. A colleague.” Absentmindedly stroking the velvety petals.

“Why the flowers?” He clears his throat. Gripping the steering wheel before igniting the car, there's the faint thrum of the car and Zayne began to drive. You paid no mind to his question, not finding any sense or malice and it was harmless.

“Just celebratory flowers, I guess. Me coming back to work and recovering from the accident.” Your voice soft and sincere, he glances at you before returning his gaze to the road.

“And you don't see anything more to it?” You raise a brow at his question. There's a underlying meaning to it but it could be just your imagination.

“Yeah. It's just flowers and I think it's nice to receive them.” Focusing your gaze on the road.

“I see. He must have put a lot of thought on them. It seems he likes you..... A lot.” His tone wasn't accusatory but the usual same monotone voice and there's a weight on it.

“Why do you care? It's not you to meddle with my affairs. I'll admit I like Theo but it's the not the way you think of it. He's cool and the typical friendly colleague you'll find in a certain work jobs and I know there must be in yours too and I don't care about your relationship with others.” You let out a slow, heavy sigh. Something between frustration and disbelief.

“I apologize for upsetting you and implying that you're invested in your colleague's behavior towards you. It didn't strike me that you're fond of flowers.” Gods. Zayne was getting in your nerves these days and if it wasn't for his constant hovering, this one took the cake.

“I'm not and thank you for noticing. It doesn't hurt to receive flowers once in a while without asking.” You replied sarcastically, you didn't even realize that you were gripping the stems of the flowers before loosening. Apologetically caressing the almost wilted flowers.

You asked Zayne once about giving you flowers but that was your mistake. You thought girls asks for that kind of stuff but if he wanted, he could. It just didn't matter to him and that was the last time. You received flowers, many times but it doesn't mean anything special if it wasn't from Zayne, it's meaningless.

He knows but he didn't have the capacity to give it to you and you were stupid and naive for entertaining the idea that you're special to him. It was a well wasted time begging for his attention.

The ride all the way home settled in a silent one. You didn't even notice his hard grip on the steering wheel.

The peonies were a nice vibrant shade of yellows and pink. It was a nice arrangement with baby's breath being added and from the looks of your contented smile, you loved it before the familiar unshed tears glossing in to your dark eyes.

The twitch in your hands, the familiar rubbing of your thumb and index fingers together in your clasped hands. If he speak even a single word, you'll break again. That's why he remained silent. Seeing you cry because of him was painful enough and he's only giving you more reasons to be hurt — again and again.

He doesn't love you. Though the sight of you with a another man brought a sensation that he wasn't familiar with. His ears burn more like a tingling feeling. The sudden tightness of his throat and his chest felt like it was being weigh down by something heavy. A nagging voice echoes in his end although no words were said. The more he sees you smiling from the thought of your supposedly colleague who may have or have not feelings for you that is not entirely professional than what you think.

Is it jealousy he was feeling? It was such an ugly feeling. A cancer to one's being and he didn't like it one bit when you're close to someone who's not him. You can be distant to him as anytime you like but he can never tolerate you being close to others.

He finds you later at night in the kitchen. Clutching a piping bag as you carefully put dollops of batter into the parchment tray. A perfect circle for his favored baked goods. The sight feels of warmth. Seeing you wearing that apron dusted with flour and the other dry ingredients.

After tapping the sheet pan a few times to remove air bubbles, setting it aside to let it rest as you moved to make the filling. It was quite tasking, singlehandedly whisking the ingredients and Zayne joins you to your little baking session.

“You're going to develop carpal tunnel if you bend your hands like that while whisking.” He takes your hand from behind. His thumb gliding over to your wrist before holding the back of your hand. Gently guiding your own in small circles before putting enough speed and not to strain your wrist. He places his other hand to the other that holds the mixing bowl.

You didn't protest. Quite taken aback at the sudden gesture. You feel the hard planes of his body behind you. His gaze following your every move that he holds on his own. “You ought to teach me sometime.” He casually commented. Keeping his grip firm on yours. You didn't respond and it's only the sound of the whisk scraping the contents of the mixing bowl.

It took a few minutes before the filling reached the desired consistency. Zayne slides his hands above your arms before pulling. When he steps back to give you space, you turn around. Without warning he reaches forward. He gently lifts your face to meet his gaze.

He feels you stiffen under his touch before using his thumb to wipe the flour smeared to your cheek. “You got something here.” He caresses your round cheek. His touch lingering on your skin, mesmerized by the softness before his gaze landed on your lips. There's a slight tremble to your lips and he let go.

None of you dared to speak. Funny, he's taking interest now. You snapped and he made the efforts to reach out to you. To know you better. He's making up for the past neglect and you weren't angry anymore at him.

A small bitter smile is drawn to your lips as you take the sight of the baking tools cluttered in his kitchen counter. It was desperation when you first learned how to bake. Wanting to impress him with his favorite sweets once you learned he has a sweet tooth. It took trial and error. Then what once act of desperation turned into a hobby that you greatly enjoyed.

You realize all of your life was built on trying to get the cardiac surgeon's attention to you. From certain interests to personal choices.

Or perhaps it was his guilt that telling him to act this way. Turned the tables to care for you.

“You're really acting weird, Zayne.” A deep frown being etched in your face. You brushed the advances he did after the accident. You weren't in no mood to deal with those kind of affections.

“How so?” His voice gentle towards you.

“You never bothered to do stuff with me before. You always brush me off and now, this?” Your hand covers your stomach. Rubbing your side to comfort yourself. He follows your movement.

“Are you feeling guilt after the accident, Zayne?” His fingers twitched. His jaw clenches and something dark clouded over his eyes before returning to their normal. He was silent for a bit.

You take his silence as a cue to continue. “I got hurt days after my drunken outburst and you think it's your fault this happened and you're feeling guilty — You should stop doing things that should have made me happy if I were still my stupid self. I don't need you looking after me because you think you're responsible for all of this. I don't want to be treated like I'm a task that you can't get rid of.” You avoided his gaze. Nibbling on your lower lip.

The words stung. Part of it was true and the other half was a lie. Zayne did truly care for you. The nightmare that vividly appeared on his dreams while you lay unconscious in the hospital bed came surfacing.

You are his responsibility. Whatever the consequences of your actions or what happened to you is his to carry since you were about to be his wife.

He takes your remarks seriously. He leans in close towards you. “I admit it was guilt but I was wrong. I was scared. I was afraid that I've truly lost you and what I feel for you right now is entirely different.” He brushes his knuckles along your round cheek.

Zayne looks at you straight in the eyes. There is some emotion you can't recognize behind them but it spoke volumes of sincerity and tenderness. “You are not an obligation. You are my responsibility. The moment our marriage was decided, I vowed to myself that I'll take care of you. I apologize if it's not what you wanted. I'm not quite versed in this kind of things.” His voice trails off like he was unsure of his words.

“But when it came to her, it all feels natural doesn't it? Like it was meant for her.” You retorted. There was no harm in it. It was merely the truth.

“I'm not chastising you for it and I really don't blame you. I accepted it a long time ago. You don't have to pretend, Zayne.” You take his wrist before putting it to his side. Shaking your head slightly. A serene calm washing over you. It stung a lot but you weren't upset about it anymore.

“I'm not pretending, (Y/N). My relationship with her is strictly professional. That's all.”

Truth be told. Zayne was losing feelings for her. He made her relationship with her as nothing but a physician to his patient. There wasn't any outdoor activities besides the confines of his office. It was all for the sake of check ups and nothing more. And if he cared, it's the kind of care a doctor will give to his patient and nothing more.

He was honest. The moment the words left his lips, the realization dawns in. There was no longing or hesitation nor the conflicting emotions swirling behind his words. It was hard for you to accept it.

“It's all in the past now. What I want is in front of me.” His voice sincere, dangerously and surprisingly tender. Your eyes widens and he presses a kiss to your forehead. His arms wrapping behind you as he holds you in his arms. Your head on his chest. You didn't return his hug, your arms hanging in your side.

Despite all of that gestures, you can't shake the feeling that you were trapped now.

Zayne entered your room after knocking and he finds you sitting near the cushioned area by the window. Curled in the spot and your cheek is pressed in the glass window. Absentmindedly staring at the rain drops rolling down in the window pane.

You turned your head slightly to glance at him. Barely acknowledging his presence already used what he's about to do. The mandatory body checkups before you go to bed. He's on his sleepwear.

He sits across you, you have a enough space for him. You can feel his body heat through your pajamas. Warming your cold legs. “Is something the matter?” He inquires. Joining you in watching rain drops racing down. The downpour was still heavy outside.

You look at him, resigned. “Yeah.” His gaze softens, his gaze flickers to your plush body. The pajamas you wore fits to your body perfectly. He looks at you before you can notice his gaze wandering.

“I'm going to return to my home.”

“You are home.” His voice flat. Leaving no space for you to argue but your emotions were stronger.

“I'm not. I think it's the right time for us to talk, Zayne.” His heart skips a beat, not liking where this conversation is going but his face remains the same stoic look.

“You don't have to take care of me anymore and I don't want to be married to you.” You say it — loud and clear.

“Is this what you truly desire? What about your parents?” You didn't notice the way his gaze darkened.

“Yes. My parents will understand and yours too. We're both adults that won't be tied by their wishes and don't act like you don't have a choice. You'll figure it out.” He can see clearly the misty glazed of your eyes.

“It didn't have to be this way. We can both work it out.”

“No, it won't. I don't want you to only pay me attention when I'm injured or I'm in my death bed or I'm spewing curses at you. I don't want you being this sweet, clingy, possessive guy who gets upset at me being with others. You can be controlling too even you don't realize it.” You shifted from your position, standing up like his presence suffocates you.

“I don't want that, Zayne. I don't want to get tied to you. I don't want to be with you anymore.” Your voice cracks at the last line. Zayne stands up, approaching you.

“It was nice knowing you and I must have been lucky for a short amount of time for the way you took care of me.” You mutter under your breath and Zayne hears every syllables of your words under the silence of the room. He hears all of it. The small sighs you emit.

He cups your face in his hands. His expressions unreadable.

The roundness of your cheek, a perfect fit to his palm, like it was meant to hold you. A bitter smile appears on your face. A crystalline clear liquid flows down from your eyes before he wipes it with his thumb.

“Set us free, Zayne. I don't want to be hurt by you anymore and I don't want to hurt you. There's no point for staying in each other's lives.” The sound of your voice rings in his ears. He doesn't want to do it. He's into deep to let you go now. What once denied is being accepted and Zayne would rather drive himself into madness than let you go.

He leans to kiss you but you avoided his kiss before he can touch your lips. He only kissed your cheek and his eyes darkened.

“I won't.” There's a pregnant pause before he continues. The sudden drop of temperature made you shiver and you didn't know if Zayne was using his Evol. “ I won't let you go. You're mine. You were promised to me and I'm going to fulfill it.” He presses his body to your soft body.

“What are you doing?” Panic streaks to your once resigned voice. His touch rough. Gripping your pillowy waist with strength that borders on painful. There's a certain urgency on his voice.

“I'm showing you my undivided attention.” The room got colder as he spoke those words. A shiver running down your spine. You meet his gaze and to meet with those same flecks of gold in his green eyes swirling with emotion you can't discern. The coldness and was it darker than the usual?

You turn around to run but his hand caught your wrist. Forcing you to get back to him.

A cry rips from your throat as Zayne pushes you down in the soft duvet of your bed. He holds your head behind to soften the blow as your body collided on the bed and within seconds his hands pins your own.

“Zayne, stop!” You begged, frantically scrambling to escape his deathly grip. “I'm not going to stop even you beg and cry. I'm yours and you're mine. I have every right to touch you as I please.” His voice colder than the usual and you feel the full blow of it.

Tears streamed down your eyes as he forcefully kisses you. His lips were cold and the contact of your lips in his made it warm.

“No!” He hears you cry again. Pinching your side and it made you gasp. He wasted no time shoving his tongue inside you. Swirling his tongue in places he can reach. Tangling the wet muscle of his own to yours. “Mmph... — hah” Kissing you deeply as he can to show you how he can mark you as his own. Claiming you as his.

He moves your arm above with his hand still pinned on you. Leveled on your head and putting the pressure that you can't move the right part of your body while he kisses you. His brain and body moves in sync. Letting go of your left hand, his fingers deftly unbuttons your top. Pulling the remaining buttons until they popped. Revealing the warm, creamy texture of your skin.

“Ssh, don't resist. It's going to feel good soon.” He assures you and despite the relentless begging for him to stop, he didn't. Continuing the assault, his hand wandering from place to place. Mapping every inch of your body. Committing every detail of your beauty marks on his mind. He studied a lot of human bodies but yours were different. Lush and full with warmth that only you can give.

His lips traveled down to your chin and to the side of your neck. Adorning you with his kisses despite the incessant squirming. He will never let his guard down or give you the opportunity to escape from his hold.

You're soft. Undeniably soft. Your skin reminds him of those fluffy cakes he used to indulge himself with. Sweet and warm. The words repeatedly plays in his mind while he tastes your flesh. He made sure to leave a mark on your neck.

Your cries goes weak by the minute. The soft gasps you desperately muffles spills the more his hand wanders. He pauses. Staring at your face stained with tears.

What was he doing? This isn't like him but if it's only the way you can stay so be it. He can later reflects his action.

He takes your hand in his. Kissing your knuckles. You squirmed at his touch and you dared to look at him.

“If I stop, will you change your mind and stay with me?”

You remained unmoving beneath him. Another fresh batch of tears rolling down at the corner of your eyes.

“No. It won't change anything.” You meekly answered. Trying to escape his grasp.

“Very well.”

That is what you last heard.

The surgeon could get used to mornings like this. Waking up next to you, your naked body pressed against his chest and watch you sleep. Last night's exertions was too much for you to handle and he did try to be gentles as possible to you but his feelings took over.

The dark bruises in your skin was the testament of it and there's nothing like quite like it. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder. Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

His cold hand caressing the exposed flesh of your body under the covers. His hand rests on your round stomach. It was a mesmerizing sight as he remembers it jiggling while he moves inside you. Kissing your tears goodbye, worshipping you like you deserved.

A thought crosses his mind. He don't mind having a child with you before the wedding. It makes his claim stronger towards you. A underhanded method that you won't ever leave him.

[kittylicksxx]

[ they confess to you out of the blue ]

notes: pre-established relationship

sylus 🐦‍⬛

zayne 🩺

xavier ⭐️

rafayel 🐟

caleb 🍎

end notes: this is my first attempt at making a smau, which is pretty fun (⺣◡⺣)♡ since i am in the middle of a bad writer’s block, i figured i could try to fill in with these types of posts until i can get my creative juices flowing to make more drabbles / oneshots ♡

all posts are written by rei; reposts into other websites and translations are not allowed ♡

[kittylicksxx]

Yay! Can you do nsfw for yandere lads doesn't have to be all of them.

I just want to know what you think of them as yandere and what you think are their training methods for their beloved.

Yandere LADS Xavier! Nonmc!

Warnings: obsessive/possessive behavior, gaslighting, justifying murder (xaviers end), dubcon, manipulation.

What kind of Yandere is he?

Xavier as a yandere is not much different than his normal persona. He's calm, collected, controlled and so is everything around him. He has the patience of a saint, the face and voice of an angel, and the mind of a weapon (since he was raised to be one almost).

Yandere Xavier is just as jealous and possessive, only he doesn't let that person interfere again. He also makes sure when they disappear that it never gets back to you or him in anyway. Yandere Xavier is just as much of a wolf in sheeps clothing, the only difference is instead of just grappling with his guilt and his morals like in the original game, he now grapples with an obsession he knows is wrong.

Yandere tendencies

Leave gifts at your door and windowsill without approaching you. chocolates, vouchers, money, stuffies, nothing too extreme but whatever he has or picked up for you.

Stalks you with most of his free time. He's still trying to convince himself that he is justified, he's just keeping you safe! if he's not sleeping, working, he's hot on your tail. Even if he's doing something random for someone, he always finds his way back to you.

Has a whole journal full of things about you. Your favorite foods, your favorite songs, your routines, places you go (even if it was just one). Even your period and other people in your life. He also has pages in these journals that are dedicated to his darker thoughts of wanting to keep you to himself. He just gets so caught up in the moment.

Doesn't take pictures or break in! remember dude has MORALS! but anyone who crosses your path that he thinks could cause a threat or hurt HIS plans for you will not see the light of the next day. That is a promise he has secretly made to himself.

More than happy to be honest about how fucked up he is! he wants to talk about it, with YOU though. He wants to tell you all about his ideas of taking you away and starting a beautiful life together, but he's afraid you'll hate him. Still doesn't talk about it even after he kidnaps you unless you draw it out of him.

Hates talking about himself, you will have to force him. If you ask him something he will immediately deflect it to you, he wants you to consume him, if it isn't surface level prying he won't say anything until he knows he can trust you fully (by you behaving).

What is he like when training?

STRICT! this man is strict! I mean whiteboard with your chores and the punishments and rewards listed out STRICT! (if he kidnaps you). He gives you chores because he wants to keep you motivated. He was raised a prince, I like to believe he knows how to properly punish others.

Forced proximity is one of his favorite punishments! you want to scream kick and cry? thats perfectly fine but once youve tired yourself out you have earned yourself a whole day cuffed to him. That means sitting in his lap while he games, following him around while he tends to the garden, showering with him, sleeping in his room, going to the bathroom with him. RIGHT THERE. The whole time he'd just look so unreadable and try to tease you or tickle you but he's more than happy to sit in silence as long as you're there!

Corner/ time out. When you're feeling especially feisty and he's too tired to punish you properly be prepared to stand in a vacant corner of his bedroom while he naps. If you can't do that he'll take a page from Caleb's book and put bells on you. But your going to be stuck in his room with nothing to do either way.

SPANKING, this could lead to something more intimate BUT he's serious about his punishments, so he's not giving up halfway through just because he can see your ass. You get all your strikes then he'll think about other activities.

He uses his awareness to manipulate. When he does open up to you he will insist he knows what he's doing is messed up but if he could help it you both wouldn't be in this situation would you? He'd get all puppy eyed and whiny if you refuse to cuddle him or insult him. Because as far as he knows he's just doing this for love, even if its fucked up your certianlly not making it any better by still resisting him. Would totally pull the " I really wish I had a kiss goodbye to make me happy to go that way I don't die fighting and you rot here" or " So i bought you all that stuff and your just going to ignore me, one kiss please all I ask, no more"

Yandere Xavier is definitely coercing or trying to seduce you into his web. Imagine a long day of being forced near to him and working in the garden, He's shirtless because it's less hassle to jump straight into the shower he says. After you're done he's covered in dirt and sweaty and panting like a dog from digging in the hot sun and chopping wood. He notices you looking a little too long and grins at you. " Idle hands make idle work" he teases without stopping his task. Or During one of your lower days where you just don't know what to do, he kisses you by surprise but doesn't say anything about it, and is just so sweet to you the rest of the day. Holding you and cuddling.

All that frustration he couldn't get out during your first couple of days? Yeah, when he finally catches you at your lowest he's exploiting it and giving it back to you tenfold and in every position he wants. He wouldn't straight-on force you, he'd want you to agree to it at some point, whether it's just a nod or a kiss back, and then he just won't stop. His hand will be all over you as he warns you he won't be going easy on you and how much he loves you. He also wants you to come to him, he has no problem initiating, but it feels so much better to have to have you want him too. Whether it is just your eyes lingering too low on his sweats, or you giving him an inch. MAN needs to give you ALL the INCHES.

Definitely an " I thought you wanted this?" and a " But you love me don't you?" even if he baited you into giving in to him he won't let you go once he's got you in his arms. Yandere Xavier is either 100% or 50%. He wants to fuck you like a wild animal, face down, meanest face ever, with positions that will force you to constantly be looking at his condescending face as he makes you feel so good. Or 50% where he wakes up horny and doesn't care how you're laying he's getting some action, or he's so mad he makes you do the work. Makes you pleasure yourself by using him.

definitely has a tracker on you and it's been there since before he kidnapped you.

[kittylicksxx]

terrible thing

subject: caleb x reader

cw. yandere! caleb, obsessive behaviors, toxicity, unhealthy relationships, childhood bestfriend! caleb, unrequited love, jealous is an understatement, scoundrel caleb, manipulation

an. THIS IS FOR THE NONNIE THAT ASKED FOR THIS!!! im sooo sorry it took so long but i super hope u enjoy <3 i liked ur idea and made a lil fic based around it <3 by lil i mean almost 6k words :3 also listen to ‘terrible thing’ by ag because that song is LITERALLY CALEB.

Some things are better left unsaid.

And whenever Caleb is involved in the conversation? Your new boyfriend is definitely one of them.

You feel a little guilty for it, you know. For not telling him. I mean, you’d only spent the better chunk of your childhood running towards his room for safety during thunderstorms, using his arms as your own personal refuge whenever lightning flashed behind the windows and thunder boomed. You still have the ledger you’d written in your youth against him, stowed in a box in your closet, to record his slightest transgressions. It collects dusts like all the countless summers you’d leisured away with him as little children.

He’s your best friend, always has been; entering your twenties does not change that- or the thick tether connecting you from humble Linkon to his expensive suite in Skyhaven.

It’s just…

You know Caleb. Of course you know Caleb- your shared history a direct proof of that. Calling him protective would be the understatment of the year and you’re sure as soon as a significant other is introduced into the foundation of your life, he’d do all he could to uproot him from it. Not out of malice, no, his habits (resting an arm over your shoulder, hovering and glaring at men- or people in general- who stare at you for so much as a second longer than necessary, dismissing the idea of romance completely when you innocently bring it up, in awe at the prospect of finding your own disney prince to whisk you off your feet) come from a good place.

But for as caring and considerate your bestfriend- the veritable staple to your adolescence- has been, that ‘good place’ is one you want to leave. Gently extricate yourself from. It’s high time you grow up and see the world for what it really has to offer outside of your Gran’s cozy suburban home, from the crook of Caleb’s elbow, comforting as it is.

And your new boyfriend? Yeah... It’s better not to tell Caleb about him. At least not until later.

You convince yourself it’s better that way, that you’re making the wiser choice, because c’mon- Your friend is just terribly busy what with his rank as colonel at the DAA, his missions that leave him tired and pressed for free time in his day-to-day hustle. It’s impressive how he still manages to find the time to call you with the scant windows of opportunity his schedule allows, barraging you with thoughtful messages and cute pics he takes of miscellaneous items because they, quote-on-quote, ‘reminded him of you.’

Caleb would blow his fuse. Oh, undoubtedly.

And you worry for him sometimes, you know? This decision is in your boyfriend’s better interest- one hundred percent- but it’s in Caleb’s as well. You don’t want him slipping on the job because his mind’s a mess and his bestfriend from childhood- the one he has an inexplicable, self-bestowed duty to protect- has put his heart into overdrive.

You’d just worry him to death. Mistakes, no matter how seemingly minor, are fatal within aircraft apparatus. He can’t afford to make them, and you don’t know what you’d do with yourself if something were to happen to him. It’d be devastating.

For so many reasons— informing your bestfriend of your new suitor is just an awful, harebrained, bad fucking idea.

That’s… for another time. But not now, not when you’re so in love it feels like you’re walking on a cloud with him, his larger hand in yours like an anchoring weight between chaotic hunter trips and scares- a very welcome consolation that calms your heart and makes you feel like a princess- the one you’d always secretly wished to embody as a little girl.

You’re… older now. Grown. Caleb can’t scare them all away, right…? Especially not if he’s unaware of them.

This fairy tale- perfect, gentle, sweet- is one you want to indulge in for a little bit longer.

So yes. Whenever Caleb visits again, eagerly inviting himself into your quaint apartment with a bag of your favorite snacks in tow as conferral, your boyfriend will not be mentioned.

✿✿✿

When he comes in, he brushes past you- wafting up cold air and the citrusy notes of his faded cologne- and ruffles your hair with a chuckle.

The stirrings of unease take root in you as you toss a laugh back and trail him into the kitchen like a lost puppy: not just because you haven’t kept a secret from him in ages- a miserably failed attempt, might you add- but mainly for the reason that your phone is buzzing in your pocket and you have no choice but to ignore it because the caller is the one individual you have vowed to hide.

Mere seconds before Caleb turns to face you, setting his haul on the counter, you fish your phone from your jeans and power it off, wincing at the apology you’ll have to give your boyfriend later when he inevitably asks what became of his unanswered call. It’s- It’s fine, though. He’ll understand once you tell him, albeit, the same cannot be said for Caleb.

The brunet idles between your cabinets and fridge, scrutinizing your stock, and speaks behind his shoulder, nodding you over. “C’mon, pipsqueak. What’re you waitin’ out there for? Need your help puttin’ away all the groceries. What do you say, will you lend me a hand?”

Walking in, you quickly get to work, humming nonchalantly. “Ah, I suppose I can.” You rotate the items of his purchase in hand and smile appreciatively, tucking them away neatly- all the while, your eyes dart to his profile as he rearranges the contents of your refridgerator without prompting. He throws you a glance in between though, violet eyes soft with mirth, his lips drawn in an easy smile, to thank you. “What would I do without you?” He teases.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you repress a grin, shrugging with nonchalance as you squeeze between his broad shoulder to slip a carton of apple juice in the fridge, “But I will say I’m thankful for the loot. This is enough to feed a family of five.”

“And you for a week,” he comments lightly with an innocuous pinch to your cheek on your exit, “which is all that matters.” You grimace and swat his hand away- long fingers, ever tactile, dropping to instead poke at your side- rubbing your face dramatically, and Caleb chuckles. Genuine and warm.

“Guess you can’t live without me either.”

He says, awfully pleased with the fact, and then you watch from your periphery, still pouting for the theatric value, as his face turns into a severe blur, his hand casting out to latch around your wrist.

Unthinking, you pause. With a hard blink, you feel yourself get spun around and then he’s right there, in your face, dwarfing you completely as he brings your little hand to his side and peers down at you, thick brows furrowed steadily.

“What?” You go.

Almost hesitantly- like he’s fearing the worst- he leans forward, dips his chin down, the tip of his nose grazing your shoulder in a way that has you bracing for impact, or something else- and breathes the scent of you in.

Floral, soft, tinged with your lavender detergent. Pleasant on the senses; Caleb’s never outright admitted that your smell is like a balm to his nervous system, mild and soothing, but he can make that confession in his heart when it takes all of five seconds to pin the anomaly marring it.

It’s faint, but there. Another man’s cologne— a little minty, a little earthy, about as aromatic as a wet dog let in from the rain as Caleb snuffles at your neck and scowls.

“Who is that?” He asks. More of a demand, really- his long, slim digits giving yours an unwitting but growingly hard squeeze in his. You immediately blanche, and you inwardly pray he can’t see the bob of your throat as you swallow or hear the heavy thumps of your heart in your chest as his invasive words- and touch- spurs it into unease.

You try to steel yourself. “W-What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he chastises without so much as a doubt of your apparent wrong. Despite his icy, intense stare, his touch betrays it, his grip firm but his thumb rubbing gentle, fast circles over the back of your hand as he keeps it in his. “I can smell somethin’ on you. Someone. You… Pipsqueak, you haven’t been gettin’ up to no good while I was at the DAA, have you?”

It’s rare to hear his voice lower like it is now, friendly, playful charm replaced by an almost cold, foreign edge as his eyes- no longer so warm- narrow into an accusing glare. They flit across the bridge of your nose down to your parted lips, and then to the wings of your collarbone as his lashes slowly flutter.

Contemplative. You almost wonder what it is he’s thinking before you bar yourself off from that curiosity, reasonable as it is. You’ve seen, from your younger years, just how far he’ll go to protect you- whether that be from punks down the street or guys at school who shove love letters in your locker on Valentine’s day- and you’re not so sure you want to re-experience the vivid footage of that which is very likely replaying through his head right now.

You get it, okay, you do. You grew up together and as your bestfriend- really, your singular stronghold- he’ll do his very best to shield you from the world and all the creeping men in it. But your boyfriend does not fall under that same umbrella. Your boyfriend genuinely cares for you and wants the best for you, but you doubt Caleb will take any of his real affection into consideration.

It’s why you plant ten toes into the ground and look him dead in the eye when you say,

“No. ‘Course not,” and you give a short giggle for good measure, gently weaseling your hand free from his own (albeit, it takes a considerable amount of effort, his grasp not quite willing to part with you). “C’mon, you know I work with all sorts of people at the Hunter’s Administration. And I didn’t shower yet. What, do I smell bad?”

“No,” he ripostes, still louring into your eyes like they’re a gateway to the most abstruse corners of your soul, waiting for them to offer up your secrets. “You could never smell bad,” he clarifies, “but the same can’t be said for whatever’s on you right now.”

“I see and interact with tons of people each day, Caleb. It’s nothing, really.” A gentle but firm, if not marginally amused reminder from your end- although your stomach is absolutely churning under his scrutiny which only seems to deepen and not let up.

He looks uncertain with himself, his own mini emotional outburst, as his jaw opens and closes. His indigo gaze, still smouldering but somewhat assuaged, flits across your clavicle before he looks up and slowly says,

“You’re not… keeping things from me, are you? If someone started seeing you, you’d tell me, rrright?”

“‘Course,” you snicker after a beat, and at the small lump of bitterness in you, you can’t help but tack on- “Not that you’d let anyone see me, anyway...”

Missing its sardonic edge, Caleb heaves a small laugh at your not-joke and gives a half nod. “Yeah,” he agrees without an iota of shame, “but it’s for your own good.” Reluctantly, he releases your hand and lets you apply a number of steps between you, still eyeing you as you resolutely continue unpacking his groceries. “‘Member what I told you, back when we were kids? Guys only ever want one thing from girls, and I don’t wanna see some peabrained jerk break your heart, Pipsqueak. He wouldn’t deserve you anyway.”

“I think,” He starts, laughing to himself, but now it’s your turn to miss the punchline, “I think I’d actually see red.”

Before you can so much as formulate a response in your head, your friend takes it upon himself to stop your busying hands and say in a gentle voice, “Hey, I got the groceries, okay? Why don’t you… go get cleaned up? So you’ll be all nice and comfy durin’ the movie.” Caleb flashes you a winning smile as a bonus, peering into you with less agitation than before and more calculated softness. You can tell, for both of your sakes, he’s still trying to calm himself from that little boyfriend scare.

As another incentive- perhaps the most tempting- he adds, “I’ll even make the popcorn while you’re in there!”

You don’t acknowledge the cause behind his words- what really pushed him to voice that suggestion- and instead nod diplomatically.

“Alright, if ya say so,” you murmur easily. “But you’d better put lots of butter on it.”

“Oh, you be careful what you wish for, Pipsqueak. Especially when you’ll end up throwin’ it all on the floor at the slightest jumpscare,” he teases. “I’ll be scrubbing the carpet for hours.”

With a pout, you give him a playful shove and dismiss him completely, not bothering to reply to that. You abandon your post behind the pantry with barely-concealed relief and sigh once you reach the bathroom, locking the door and typing out a quick text to your boyfriend as a temporary olive branch. You don’t want him to be mad. In any case, you don’t think he will be, considering he’s far more understanding than Caleb in some regards- but if you want to maintain good terms in this blossoming relationship, it’ll have to be far from your friend’s controlling- but well meaning- hand.

Caleb’s… just making a big deal out of this. Per usual.

If anything, despite the niggling sense of guilt that makes you feel awful to even look him in the eye, you just feel even more compelled to keep this from him.

He really might blow his fuse, otherwise.

When you exit the bathroom with a towel around your shoulders, Caleb pushes a bowl of popcorn into your hands like he’s trying to placate you.

He smiles, giving you a once-over. “See? Nice n’ clean.”

You’re not entirely sure what the point made is, but you deign a nod anyway, gleefully accepting the bowl.

Extra butter, just as he promised.

✿✿✿

You’ve loved Linkon for as long as you can remember.

It’s held you, welcomed you in when you were just a tatterdamelion girl fresh from a facility that you don’t really remember, but still carry somewhere deep within you all the same. This city supplied you with a roof over your head, a loving grandmother, and an opportunity to lead a normal life— it’d be more difficult to not fall in love with it.

You think Caleb’s presence, warm and comforting, has a lot to do with your pleasant feelings surrounding it. He was both your bestfriend all throughout childhood and your safeguard; wherever you went, he happily trailed, and with the two of you- and Gran- things were simple and tranquil.

This is your hometown.

You’d thought you’d experienced most if not all of what it had to offer, fondly memorized each route and cornerstore- but over a candlelit dinner at a restaurant you’ve never been, your boyfriend smiles as the waitress brings out your entrées.

Hestiantly awaiting him to dig in first, your fork hovers uncertainly over a dish you’ve never seen before- but it makes your mouth water all the same. With a warm chuckle, he instructs you to eat and you do, gushing at least a million times about how good it tastes.

Between bites, you carry on easy conversation (mostly your rambling- about hunter work and then that cute cat you saw the other day- and his happily lending an ear) and your date is moving splendidly. Midway through your meal, the table falls silent for a moment while you take an indulgent sip from your fruity, non-alcoholic drink, and your boyfriend perks up as if remembering something.

“Ah,” he says, setting his own glass down with the hint of a cheeky grin, “You know, I have something to tell you.”

You lift an eyebrow, recuperating from your long chatter which, you realize with a dollop of bashfulness, was one-sided. You were just so excited to speak with him- and can you really be blamed? He’s perfect, sweet, understanding… He doesn’t get mad at you for not allocating your whole time to him, your schedule hardly allowing for it- although you’d be happy if it did- and he doesn’t drop so much as one cautionary piece of advice at the somewhat short dress you’re wearing tonight- just for him. His opening word was a warm compliment of ‘you’re stunning’ paired with a quick embrace, and you felt like he really meant it.

Honest to God you think you love him.

“Y-Yeah?” You smile tentatively, nudging him to continue. You’re not quite sure what he has to say, but you want to listen. “What is it?”

He takes a beat to laugh softly. You wrinkle your forehead and laugh back, curtly reaching over the table to give his hand a little squeeze. “What is it?” You press with amusement, his eyes glittering under the dim, lemony light the fixture overhead casts.

“Nothing to worry about, just-“ His grin only intensifies as he begins to elaborate, but yours slowly fizzles out, your lashes fluttering thoughtfully, “I think you’ve got a secret admirer or something, babe. The other day, someone hit me up with a text to piss off. And I was confused at first, you know-?”

The pleasant sound of his unaffected chuckle does little to soothe your nerves as they build in your gut, the gears in your head turning for an answer- some explanation for the inexplicable dread clutching your chest. “Like, who is this asshole? But then I remembered that blond guy from your work and-“

No. No.

You startle without thinking, darting forward to offer out a trembling hand, “Hey- can I see that text?” With perfect, singleminded focus, you watch his face of humor warp into one of slight unease, but he gives a belated shrug and fishes it from his pocket. “Uh, sure. Here you go, babe-“

Slumping back down into your booth, you dial out his password and scroll through his contact list with your lower lip caught in your teeth. You don’t want to believe the worst- God forbid this awful suspicion end up being true- but there’s a little niggling doubt in the back of your head that speaks with strange clarity and you can’t will yourself to ignore it, not after that interaction you’d had with your friend last week.

Your thumb stops in its tracks to hover over a singular, unlabeled profile picture. With a thick swallow, mucus feeling thick as mollasses in your throat, you tap on the message and it fills his phone screen.

Hey guy, look, i’m sure you’re a cool dude and all but stay away from y/n. I won’t tell you again :)

A quavering breath filters in through your glossed lips.

Surely not.

A- A prank. It must be a prank on his end, right?

But you know Caleb. You know him from anywhere, you know him like a fucking mirror- or a platonic soulmate, you’re so close. He’s been your bestfriend all throughout childhood and you’d be damned if you couldn’t recognize him in text, even over a small number of words on someone else’s phone screen.

The world sears around you, darkening in your periphery. Your surroundings- blurred with the coming of a very angered, indignant emotion- and the concerned visage of your boyfriend- wither away like ash.

All you can see is how small- how helpless- Caleb has made you feel, the color red, terrible and pigmented, stinging your sclera.

W- Why can’t he just fucking see that you’re fine-? You don’t need him to protect you, and—

The better part of your rationale fades, tears wetting your eyes and the mascara that’d clumped on your lashes, balling your fingers with an iron grip in fear of your carefully-applied makeup waterfalling all over your cheeks. Dammit! You’re so upset right now you can’t even think.

The chair screeches from under you, alerting the fellow restaurant-goers who perk upright around you, but you can’t find it in you to care about them- or your sweet, gawking boyfriend as you throw him a feeble, too-tight smile and march for the nearest exit.

“Uh- b-babe-? Wait-“

It’s long overdue that you grow up, yes, but you realize this- the little stunts pulled to keep you in the house, more notably the attic, as a teen, and now the blatant threats made to your present partner through ominous texts- is childish, and Caleb is pushing the envelope, too.

You’re starting to fucking wonder if he even wants to grow up, or keep you and him trapped in his fantastical, little imaginary world forever.

✿✿✿

To your singular surprise, he’s already there when you arrive, emerging from the living room of your apartment with the ease of someone who owns the place.

He doesn’t own the place. You worked taxing hours, both physical and otherwise, at your job and counted up the pennies to afford the rent here- your flat falls under your name and it’s yours. Not his. Not everything is Caleb’s- not everything can he just assert his hands all over and take.

This is your life! What you’re trying to make of it!

You’re so angry you can hardly look at him without glaring daggers, crossing your arms across your chest just to keep them from shaking at your sides as you halt by the threshold and find your bearings.

“Caleb,” you grit out. He’s stupidly self-assured as he folds his own arms and props himself against the wall, dipping his chin slightly to appraise you. A low-cut, silky dress that leaves little to the imagination, lipstick that makes your lips almost glitter and mascara that threatens to run— you wonder just what that squint in his eye means as he takes it all in.

When he lets out a breathless, angered sort of scoff, you think you’ve grasped the fundamentals of it. He doesn’t like it. And of course he doesn’t, right-? Because you look grown up, like a confident, take-no-bullshit woman- a country mile from the little fumbling girl he grew up with and constantly had to monitor.

You haven’t seen him in a week, and even now you realize this unannounced visit is earlier than his general schedule, but a lot has changed in that short amount of time.

“Hm. What’s got you so worked up, Pipsqueak?”

Infuriating.

“You-!” You unclench your jaw just enough to speak. “You know what you did!”

“Sorry. I’m gonna need you to be a lil more specific,” he teases with a hint of a cruel smile, “Help me understand what you’re sayin’ here.”

You’re almost impressed with how steady the words come out; you’re half expecting to break down in furious sobs right then and there, but you more or less manage to save face. “You’re threatening my boyfriend now?”

There’s nothing to be leisured on here- so you’ll just cut to the point because the quicker he understands the line you’re drawing, the sooner he’ll leave and you can be done with this. Your lovely date has been ruined for the night, you’re all kinds of humiliated and you’ll have a whole plethora of apologetic texts to type out for your boyfriend— who you’ve inwardly decided will have to become privy to the little dilemma with your overprotective friend. You wanted to keep it off the books, but Caleb has made that all but impossible.

A little muscle in his face twitches. Some of the mirth, contrived as it was, fading at your accosting. “And you’re keeping things from me now?” He accuses back.

He hardly gave you any other choice, did he? Caleb’s no different than a guard dog wherever you’re involved, and your poor boyfriend wouldn’t stand much of a chance if your closest friend thought you to be in some kind of danger and blindly rushed in. But he’s— that’s just where Caleb doesn’t understand, does he? That you’re fine on your own, truly, that you’re safe and you feel loved in his arms. It’s so so maddening but you try your damnedest to hold onto the trace of dignity you still have left after the last hour.

“I’m allowed to fall in love, you know! Go out and- and start a life separate from you and our childhood!”

A sharp intake of air on his end. The arms folded over his chest stiffen, fingertips bluntly digging into the crooks of his elbows.

“And what about me?” He asks slowly. “You think I’ll just… be content to be left in your dust while you go and- and give yourself up to the first guy who looks at you?”

A wounded sound disguised as a laugh escapes your lips. “Oh, is that what you think of me? Think I’m just some insecure little school girl who’s got a crush and doesn’t know how to act?”

With a coolness that masks the true turmoil inside him, Caleb pushes himself off the wall and approaches you. Whether it’s the stirrings of fear that keep you grounded in place- the unexpected but startling realization that right now, you feel afraid of him- or the determination steeling your nerves, you don’t know, but you hold your ground even when he’s no more than a foot away.

“Honestly?” He starts, “you’re lookin’ the part right now, Pipsqueak.”

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes. Your fingers mirror the brunet’s, curling up together and stabbing the fleshy plane of your palm. You refuse to cry in front of him. It’s different from when you were kids, like if you were to burst into tears now, he’d use it as more of an example as to why you’re not steady on your own; the warm memories of being tucked in his embrace seem sugar-coated now, like you were missing the bigger picture all along.

Perhaps it was naivety- wishful thinking- believing that the spot under his arm or at his breast was the safest in the world.

This Caleb is one you don’t even recognize, let alone want to cuddle up to.

Your nostrils flare, your tone beaten, small, but it reaches its mark. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying my best to get out of your shadow.”

Seemingly, he ignores you, simply saying, “You can do… so much better than him.

“Hah, oh really? And what’s better, Caleb? Since you’re soooo enlightened,” you throw back, bravely (or stupidly) stepping closer to sneer in his face until yours is just meager inches from his. He makes no move to reapply that distance, small as it was, indigo eyes regarding you with a slight narrow as he looks down his nose at you and frowns.

You don’t care if you’re being reckless. You deserve an answer after all his awful antics. Maybe you’ve been going around his back with your boyfriend, but it’s not like he was owed that knowledge to begin with, and he’s done you an even greater disservice by running behind yours to tamper with your relationships.

You press, “What’s better, Caleb! TELL ME!”

“Me,” Caleb murmurs, but you take it clear as a bell. You slacken, anger loosening from the tight lines in your visage, but you watch- unseeingly- as a mite of joy blinks across his face. Light as quicksilver. “Caleb is better.”

Without a word, you push past him, leaving him alone in your apartment. It’d be a losing battle to kick him out your door, and you were tired of fighting.

Tired of him, really.

✿✿✿

You don’t know how fast you’re going, or for how far you drive. Just that it’s barely below the speed limit, you guess, and it’s within Linkon’s outskirts. It’s a handful of hours that pass when you realize you’re going in circles. You’re not so sure where to land.

It’s after dark when you swerve your car into some empty parking lot- a park, you think- and get out to sit yourself on a wooden bench. It’s a starry night, a beautiful clear sky overhead- but you can’t find it in you to admire the view as frustration and sorrow, the feelings you’d been burying all throughout the seemingly endless drive, bubble to the surface.

You hang your head between your hands and cry.

Something is wrong with Caleb. He’s like a dog with a bone; you’re more than horrified to realize that in the grand scheme of things, you are the chewtoy. He’ll nip at the hands that get too close, your boyfriend’s most of all.

If tonight taught you one thing, it’s that he cant be reasoned with. Fine. You don’t need him anyway. If he’s just gonna see you as some pitiful little object he can put a leash on at his own whims, then you don’t think you want to be friends anymore- the decade of knowing him, relying on him, be damned.

(But you suppose he doesn’t want to be ‘friends’ either, huh?)

When he’d said he wanted to be a pilot, you didn’t stop him. No, you clapped him on the back and pulled him into a hug and told him you’d support him every step of the way, that you were proud.

Evidently, he doesn’t give a shit about you or how you feel or what you want— he’s bigheaded and selfish. Does he seriously think he can just say what he said tonight without any consequence?

Me. Caleb is better.

You scoff, fingernails denting your palm as you clench your fists. It’s all you can do to stop them from shaking or punching the air.

For a moment you almost contemplate picking yourself up, giving your partner a ring or climbing back into your vehicle to steer it towards home… B-But you don’t think you want to go back, not when it means facing him, not right now—

Between the gap of your wrists as you cradle your temples, headlights pour over the concrete below. The rumbling hum of an engine gets louder and then tires crunch over pebbled road as a car pulls in. Your shoulders stiffen. You risk a wary glance up and feel a mixture of relief and confusion when you clock it as your boyfriend’s.

…What? What’s he doing here?

You prepare to stand, but a figure throws a long leg out of the front and the silhouette that appears, tall and broad, approaching with measured ease, makes you freeze.

His face shines under a singular lamp post and you’re embittered all over again at the sight of Caleb.

Wiping your tears away before he can fully see them, you practically leap off the bench when he’s still a couple yards from reaching you, but your heart lurches to your throat when something- an invisible force- throws you back onto the seat.

“Sit,” his voice, leaving little room for negotiation, rings.

Gobsmacked, you jerk your head up. He’s a few feet away now, swiftly trimming that space until he’s stood right before you and slipping his hand under your chin to hold your gaze, wide with shock, on him.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be out here.”

Your dreadful expression hardens into one of calm anger. “What, am I your prisoner now? You’re really gonna- fucking hold me hostage on this stupid bench?” You sniffle.

For a certain window of time, the familiar car behind him slotted by yours is completely forgotten, your attention wholly fixed on the man (your should-be bestfriend) towering over you.

Dimly lit, you watch as his eyes narrow, sweeping over you with thought- albeit, just what exactly is running through his mind, you don’t know if you want to find out. Right now, though, you think you hate him, and you have waning faith that he’ll choose the right option here- that is, to piss off to wherever he came from and get his nose out of your relationships.

“…Did you hear anything I said?” He asks pointedly.

The sharpness of it silences you, your jaw fluttering shut above his palm, his touch betraying a gentleness that flummoxes you. He shifts it to thumb away at your silvery tears.

You struggle for an answer, for an appropriate way to even respond to all this. “Caleb-“

“Do you even realize what you do to me?” He lets out a little laugh, then, but the hurt is clear as day on the half of his face that the dim, lemony light glows on. He shakes his head, “After what I said, you just… left? You’ve become quite the heartbreaker, huh, Pipsqueak?”

His eyes glitter. You get the vague feeling that there’s something you’re not grasping here, like another nonsensical joke you don’t understand yet as a tinge of amusement pinches his lips.

“Hm.”

Finally, you break from his inscrutable gaze and heave a sigh. “Caleb, look, I-I just want to forget tonight and—“

“I’m gonna say a few things,” he cooly interupts. You gawk. “Caleb-“

“-And you’re gonna listen.”

You’re stunned into a clumsy sort of quietude, mouth quavering shut as you spare a frenetic glance down to your wrists, bound by invisible restraits to your side, straight as a ramrod. You can’t move them. Every second spent is tense, and wraught with the anticipation that he’ll shortly let go and tell you this is some prank- definitely his sickest yet- but you’re sorely mistaken.

“I love you, Y/n,” he starts, with an expression so sober that it steals the breath from your lungs, dark violet eyes rippling with intensity. The swing set somewhere behind you offers a groan as a breeze whisks its chains aside. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest; perhaps the one thing he can’t paralyze into silence.

Time drags to a screeching stop at his words- not because you’ve never heard them before: years ago, during stormful, scary nights you’d cling onto him and press your ear to his chest, the steady thrum of his heart and those three words lulling you into peaceful sleep- but because you’ve never heard them in that way.

Not even from your boyfriend.

A second passes and you’re… frightened. Unmistakably, horribly frightened.

You get the feeling he’s wounded, however, face warping with some deepseated, double-edged conviction, as he stares.

He lifts a hand, his free one, and splays it over his broad chest, bunching the fabric of his shirt as his brow furrows, “I love you so fucking much it actually hurts sometimes. And it was… fine, for a while, pretending all I felt for you was friendly. But—“ and this is when his face, and the kicked puppy sort of look, darkens, his nostrils flaring as he drops his hand to his side.

“But then you started running from me,”

“I- I never tried to run, Caleb-!?”

Smoothly, he continues. “Decided I wasn’t good enough for you. But haven’t I always protected you? When it was thundering, when the neighborhood bullies came knocking on the door- I was there to hold you. To fight off your bad dreams,” He breaks off with a breathy laugh that sends a cold chill down your spine. Franky, no amount of humor, no matter how small, feels appropriate right now. “Remember? Even when Gran said to eat your veggies, it was me who cleaned your plate for you. It was always me, Pipsqueak.”

You blink. But every time you open your eyes, you think it’s someone new standing before you. It’s all surreal, like you can’t trust your own sight.

“And now…” he moves impossibly closer, sandwiching you against the back of the bench, hunching over. You give your wrists, trembling from resistance, another harsh tug but they don’t move.

“We finally get to be together again, just to find out you’ve been tryin’ to seek that out in another guy? Pipsqueak- you know nobody will love you like I have, right…?”

Distantly, as the tip of his nose nears yours and you spot a fleck of something on his cheekbone, smeared and red, you wonder just whose car you’ll be escorted home in.

Yours, or your boyfriend’s.

[kittylicksxx]

SCATTERED ACROSS THE STARS

Sylus Angst

After years of yearning, eons of loyalty what does a man do when all he gets is pieces, uneven and unfair.

Warnings: angst, slight mentions of chaos murder, drug addiction, and suicide (all mild)

AN: I often think all LIs and MC deserve better. A happiness of their own, not the kind tainted with curses and what not. If you don't like it don't read (°∀°)

Contains reference of another fic I wrote of zayne. I'll add link in case you wanna read.

Sylus was pissed.

No, that's not the right word, it portrays nothing but mere annoyance and anger. Sylus was beyond that.

Sylus was hurt.

No, that's not the right word as well, he wished he was just hurt. He wished it was only pain he felt every time he saw her with them.

Sylus was broken.

Tsk, incorrect yet again. How can one be broken when they were never whole to begin with.

For someone known to have everything worldly in the palm of his hand, Sylus lacked the most essential of his being. His soul, torn and used to bring life into another, one supposed to be his one true companion. His beloved. But Alas! 

Universe played a dirty trick.

For a dragon who owned the treasures of many fallen kings, the one who Never shared any of his possessions, even the one he did not care for, was forced to share the most precious one.

How ironic.

He thought his love was the purest, a beautiful yet tragic legend woven into the ancient ruins only for it to soar once again when they reunited.

He thought none like him existed, one who dared to love so fervently. A valiant display of ardent affection despite the curse that eventually killed him.

Sylus prided himself in his ability to love after the cosmos banned together to refrain it from happening, he prided himself to make a place for himself just so he could, for once, live out his fairy tale with her.

He deserved it right? After everything they went through. He still stands tall after that ever-longing suffering; her warm embrace should be his reward, right?!?.

Wrong.

Ah yes, wrong. Sylus felt wronged.

For the one whom he loved the most, was not his, at least not entirely.

Not the way he belonged to her. No. He longed for her, kept all of his love, his softness, his laughter reserved for her, made it so sacred so that when he laid it bare in front of her it would be nothing the eldest star in the ever-growing galaxy had ever witnessed before.

That's until he learned of them, their desires, their history.

A messenger who betrayed his god.

A god who led down his people.

A royal who left his own planet in ruins.

A fallen soldier who didn't let even death restrain him.

Each of them bared down their lives, people, treasures, and sanity. Over and over again. From gardens of jasmines to bonds of eternal. From past to future and across multiple timelines in between, tangled web, whispered myths and many fostered anecdotes.

Each of their feats rivaled the other, a grandeur display of Romance, that seeps through the galaxies and into her heart.

Wherever it beats, it finds her. They all find her, Love her, and then inevitably lose her.

Yes. The eternal cosmic affairs that have rattled the divine always end in the same way.

Heartbreak.

Tragic.

Unfulfilled.

Tsk. What a waste.

—--

Knowledge is power only some can bear, and Sylus would know. He had spied on them, all of them. Learned about them trying to find the flaws he could use to pry her away from their grasp. All for it to turn into failures.

Not just because they were clean slate, no like him they had their own fallouts.

But because of how happy she looked with them, so happy, just as she did with him. Not more, not less.

Just as much.

How unfair.

For he wanted her all for himself, blame his dragon roots but sylus don't share, how could he do it with the one who owns half his soul.

Is it so wrong he wants it all to himself? To get back the loyalty he had shown for eons?

He wasn't asking for much was he?

Everyday he will see her with one of them.

Under the starlight, along the oceans, in cozziness of duvets or the serenity of the night sky.

And she would dazzle for them just like she dazzles for him.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Nothing special.

__

His beloved was scattered across the stars, and he too only got the crumbs. The spared affections she had to offer, and sylus had enough.

He deserved to have something sacred. Something all for him. Just him.

And as the time went on he noticed…

So did she.

She deserved to have love that doesn't demand her being, her life, her blood, her heart.

She deserved to love as easy as breathing, not one suffocated with unseen linkages that burned with cosmic mischief.

She deserved to love and be loved with free will. Not because she was designed to, programmed to, and especially not with those picked by forces beyond her kin.

And so sylus decided to let her go, it wasnt easy, nor was it gentle but it did happen.

He pulled apart the string of fate, to let her free. It wasn't clean, certainly not smooth at edges but now she could breath. 

Soulmates can be platonic, romance isn't mandatory and besides, Kittens thrive better untethered, untamed.

—

After the “breakup”, if you can even call it that, a word far too trivial to define the undoing bond burned within the constellation, Sylus threw himself into work. Even more than before, going as far as taking Down the cheap underling, spreading chaos on the streets of the N-109 zone.

He was a ruthless killer before now he was a reckless one as well. His strategic movements and calculated attacks roughed up with insatiable need to wreak havoc.

He barely used his henchmen; why should he when he could do it better than them and also get the thrill of it?

Getting his own hands dirty in the hopes of removing the traces she left behind. He had learned the art of letting go, didnt mean he doesn’t get to process his grievance on his own accord, no matter how bloody it is.

Turns out he wasn't the first one to do so, it was the doctor. He, too, had to de-tangle himself from bushes full of thorns that had given him scars to last a lifetime, to plant a whole new garden with another flower just as fragrant, just as pretty. Even though it was small, it was still beautiful because it was entirely in bloom, not just the scraps he had to lose so much for.

Though Sylus was not looking for one, too tired by the charade to bother himself with it. He lived this long he would live out the rest of it as well.

Or so he thought.

---

During a hunt for a specific rat that had infiltrated the base, Sylus was not pleased when his carefully laid out trap was outsmarted by the traitor, fleeing the spot after tricking someone else into it.

“Looks like the rat trap ended up catching a little mouse” he spoke up approaching the bird cage that held just a sweet little thing, at least compared to him. 

He is displeased red eyes were now on,

You.

your pretty big eyes on him as well as crimson shades dust your cheek. “I- I am not supposed to be here…” you spoke, rightfully scared as the man in front of you approached the bird cage, his veiny hand reaching out to hold a bar, still studying, still weary.

“Obviously” he says in a bored tone “you do not fit the description. It was supposed to be a large burly man and not a, well…a fragile little thing too easy to break” he says.

You couldn't help but giggle and that caught him off guard. “Sorry, it's just- your voice is just as deep as I imagined,” you say, making the man in front of you give you a questioning glare. “Excuse me?” he asked. Of course, she wasn't the first to say something like that to him. Many had tried to tempt the man who runs the city to no real outcome.

“You are sylus right? I- am a huge fan!” You say looking up from your place nearing the bars of the cage.

Many had claimed to be his nemesis, his rivals, even admirers, but a fan? That was a first. “A fan? A fan of what?” he asked, his low voice not portraying the hint of curiosity he felt.

“You know, like your achievements and stuff” you reply simply, matter-of-factly.

There was a beat of silence.

“You mean my criminal record?”

“A mighty impressive one”.

His devilishly handsome face contorts into a slightly puzzled expression as he refuses to look away at the shorter person in front of him who continued to look at him….like that.

Sylus was aware how blessed he was aesthetically but he couldn't help but be drawn to her eyes and how she looked at him. They brimmed with admiration, respect and slight fear that didn't aim towards him. Now it isn't that no one ever looked at him like that before, no. What made it different was how pure it was, how easy it came to her when it really shouldn't. Her desires were sated and she didn't require anything of him. Not his favor, not his hate. She was so contant in the moment just being present here, with him.

Sylus had to step back and look away. An unfamiliar weight unfolded in his chest

“Enough with this charade whatever this is” he says “how did you end up here? Because with what you have said so far I believe you are some kind of stalker? Is that what it is?” He speaks with accusations directed towards you.

“Oh no! No” you to quickly step back, panic drips your demeanor “There is a misunderstanding, I have been played to be accurate”.

“Oh? Why tell me more about it little mouse” he says crossing his arm, his tone was sarcastic yet sincere. “I am all ears”.

With a deep breath you begin “that big and burly man you mentioned vaguely, were you talking about daryl? Also known as the bishop?” When he nods cautiously you continue “right! So what happened was, I owed Daryl a favor and he cashed it in and told me to make this delivery for him and well I had no clue that delivery will bring me here” you breath out seemingly calm but that slight shakiness in your voice didn't miss him. “I assume he somehow knew it was a trap then set me up as an escape goat” 

Once you were finished sylus ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. It doesn't happen often that one of his strategically laid out traps doesn't work or catch someone innocent, but even in this moment after his failed attempt his mind was more interested in you “And why would a small thing like you owe a man like bishop a favor” his eyes narrows down at you with suspicion laced with intrigue. Just who are you? First, you claim to be a fan and then turn out to have some sort of connection with a rat that Infiltrated his base.

The question made you chuckle “ah so funny story” you begin, now having sylus’s full attention because how would it be funny to know a man like The Bishop.

“So my dad killed his dad, and then like kind of adopted him because of guilt since his mom was a druggie, she ended her life subscription after like 4 to 5 years or so anyway” You wave it off like it was no big deal and the red-eyed man could only just listen to you stunned. “So yeah Daryl kind of came and went never really stayed, got in the wrong g crowd and found out the truth so he obviously tried to kill us all but thankfully couldn't” you rambled, sylus felt they were losing the plot “If he tried to kill you all why would you owe him….anything?” He tried hiding how absurd he found it, but she could see it as “that's the funny part of having a dysfunctional family.” she leaned on the bars of the cage. “Can't live with them, can't live without them. After nearly burning down our house and running away for good, or so I thought, he returned again remorseful because, well, my dad did take him in, and we were nice enough to him.” She shrugs. Sylus shifted on his feet, impatient “Still doesn't explain why-”

“I am getting there jeez” you giggle, “though we did not really forgive him and cut off our ties I had to reach out to him because” you take another deep breath and sylus holds his.

“I needed the money, we were in ruins, and all kinds of bills were stacking up my books, not making enough. It- it was rough,” You chuckle, but there is no humor in it; the sparkles in your eyes dim down, replaced by the pain of the past that still seems to haunt you. “It was a good chunk I borrowed and was paying him back bit by bit after I started doing well till out of the blue he called in and asked a favor in exchange for forgiving the rest of the loan and- well, rest is history” she stands straighter arms crossed “that answered all your questions?”

Sylus stares you up and down. He knows, of course, that you are not lying or deceiving him, that your heart is pure even after all you've been through, and it is only what you tell him; he wonders what else you hide behind that flowery smile.

“even if you are saying the truth you have seen too much now, and given your…complicated relationship with the bishop I suppose letting you go so freely won't be an option,” he says, his voice dropping low to that cold tone that can make anyone succumb to their knees, the one you had in your eyes right now. That's the look Sylus was used to, not that mellow one you have been giving him.

“No! No wait, don't kill me” you grabbed onto the bar's desperate pleas falling from your lips making him smirk “I-I can be useful I can help you find him! everything I know I'll tell you. Please” the last word falling much softly.

“mhm is that so then maybe you can be spared” sylus says knowing damn well he was never planning on killing her in the first place.

“Well then” he smirks “I am expecting your full corporation little miss”.

AN: This was supposed to be long lol, but I figured I'd make it a whole part 2 later. It is almost written but I have so many ideas I need to arrange it all first

Anywho, let me know if I should write it or not.

[kittylicksxx]

Yandere knight who once was a boy you adored.

A sequel to this

Dead Dove Do Not Eat! MDNI ! TW. Dubious consent, Mentions of non-con (past), forced marriage, isolation, yandere, fem pov, implied Stockholm Syndrome towards the end

You constantly had to remind yourself that there were many worse fates out there for young ladies like you. Ones so lowly they were pawned off to the palace to curry favor with the royal family. From birth, you’d been a lamb made to be thrown to the wolves, and he was the biggest one of them all.

Yandere knight who can't stand being apart from you.

You had to assume that it was something to do with being on the battlefield for so many years. He'd jolt awake screaming in the night, and then he'd murmur apologies for startling you out of your slumber. His arms would wrap around your waist, and he'd sleep like a babe after.

He practically demands that you sit in his study all day while he sifts through mountains of paper work. It must've been quite the shift, from being a mere squire to the hero of the kingdom and a Duke. He learned to read within the palace as part of a basic education, but he often pulls you on his lap and asks you for help.

"Tell me, love, what does this word mean?"

You'd be patient and kind, like any wife should be, and he'd nod and keep you pressed to his side for hours while he worked.

Yandere Knight who refuses to let you leave the estate.

After years of being in service to the princess, you desperately wished to go and actually explore the world a bit. But your husband had already seen far too much to ever consider letting you go.

Yandere knight who tried to sate your growing need for freedom with gifts.

At first, he tried giving you gowns and jewelry worth your weight in gold. They were dazzling things that you had long ago expressed to once wear for yourself after watching the ladies of the court parade around in such finery. Yandere knight who cherished your every word now and back then, and seeks to fulfill your every wish. But he simply refuses to let you out. Not for balls, galas, or a leisurely walk about the nearest town. Nothing. The furthest you are permitted to go is the lawn of the manor, and that is only with his express permission or supervision. It is suffocating, to say the least.

After catching you wandering in the gardens one early morning where you had snuck away, he'd had all of your shoes fit for going outside removed. It was only soft slippers and robes that you'd be positively humiliated if anyone from outside your household saw you in from then on.

Yandere knight who grows more and more desperate to have you love him as much as he loves you.

"Love, why do you avoid my kisses?"

It was such a blunt query that you had to drop your fork. It clattered loudly against the porcelain plate, and you stared with wide eyes at your husband who's face was obscured by candlelit shadows. You stammered and tried to answer, but he sighed, looking almost sad.

"I know that you did not wish for this," he admitted softly, like it was some grave secret. "But I will not have you ruin our happiness."

Yandere Knight who starts to become more demanding with his affections.

He's your husband, so you must do as he says. You know that. You held your tongue when he claimed you so roughly in the carriage. You held your tongue before you cried quietly at night. You held your tongue as he began to fuck you while he worked in his study during the day, but you wondered how much longer you could hold out.

"You will love me," he whispered into your ear, his breath rasped over your ear as he slowly fucked into you. You struggled to maintain composure. It wasn't fair that he was dressed while you were in barely more than a nightgown. He'd been removing even more from your wardrobe until you couldn't bear to be anywhere but in your shared chambers or in private like this.

He had gotten better at writing, even more so while he was buried inside your velvet cunt. You gasped and twitched, tears spilling from your eyes.

"I'm certain of it. I adore you, so it is only natural," he promised, more to himself than anything else. He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, his eyes focused on the paper he was scrawling on. His mind, however, was in a thousand different places. All of them being a nook and cranny of your body, sweet and his to rightfully claim. Honored by the king, honored by the country, so what else could you do besides take it?

Anguished whimpers that used to spill from your tongue gradually faded, and you found yourself leaning into his touch for the first time. He shuddered, but did not make a move to startled you. His hand was splayed over your hip, squeezing gently as he slowly set down his pen and hugged you. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and you could feel tears of his own start to spill. You could hear him silently whispering 'thankyouthankyouthankyou'. To whom, you did not know. You did not care to find out.

You melted against each other, both wallowing in two different kinds of desperation. Yours was far more nostalgic than you had expected. Perhaps you should have known that there was no other option for you than to seek out his warmth. For the fuzzy, innocent feeling that he had stolen from you. There was little comfort to be found, though.

After all, the boy you'd adored had died at war and now returned a monster, and there was hardly any love you could feel for that.

[kittylicksxx]

You know...

Full pic on Bluesky & Twitter

https://x.com/ekaymnslvs/status/1893037977158459577?t=HZGUdjxUonw4fZcnjCFqXg&s=19

[kittylicksxx]

rafayel who starts off all innocent, arms wrapped around you, his body warm against yours. but you can feel it. his cock. pressed up against your ass, hard and throbbing, twitching every time you shift even a little.

“you’re hard.” your voice is a quiet whisper, teasing but acknowledging the obvious.

rafayel lets out a breathy chuckle, pressing a soft kiss against the back of your neck. “yeah? who’s fault do you think that is, cutie?” his hands are resting on your waist, thumbs rubbing lazily under the hem of your shirt. “just… let me feel you. just for a second, yeah?”

before you can even respond he’s already pushing your panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them down. the blunt tip of his cock nudges at your entrance, and he groans low when he feels how warm and wet you are.

“just the tip,” he murmurs in a promising tone, pushing in just enough to stretch you open.

and at first, that’s really all it is. just the tip. just barely inside. not even fully sinking in. but very slowly he shifts a little closer, grinding against you, sliding in just another inch. then another…..and another. slow teasing and thrusts just barely moving but still pressing deeper, pushing in inch by inch.

it’s only when you finally realize how full you feel that your breath catches. “rafayel… you said just the tip.”

he hums as if pretending like he’s considering your words but the way his hips roll against you says otherwise. “mm, i did, didn’t i?” his voice is smooth, almost smug. “guess i got a little carried away.”

[kittylicksxx]

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ better than revenge 🤍 rafayel 祁 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ೃ࿔pairing: lads rafayel x reader

ೃ࿔summary: rafayel did not come home to me three banners in a row so i gave him a mommy kink and delayed gratification out of pure spite. how about this u shrimp i’m so mad.

ೃ࿔word count: short!!

ೃ࿔tags: 18+, smut, pure smut, let him suffer the consequences of his actions, i wrote it in like 20 minutes don’t take this seriously, p in v (because i’m a good person at the end of the day he should be grateful), delayed gratification, mommy kink, i love my men a little bit pathetic, pure filth i’m sorry, argument, but they love each other of course they do!!! begging, it somehow got angsty??? What the HECK is going on in my head i’m not sure anymore. i freaking hope i will get that god of the tides or else…….

NOT checked for errors, i’m sorry!! It is a crime of passion this time.

!!DON’T you DARE read if you’re not 18+!!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel was so regretful and you could see that—in the way his brows furrowed, his arms holding your frame tightly, his eyes never leaving yours, tears already glistening on his eyelashes. You could also hear that— in his whimpers and mewls, soft moans and whines that were leaving his lips uncontrollably at this point. And you could definitely feel that—in the way he was desperately kissing at your cheeks, neck and shoulders, leaving wet skin behind; in the desperate rutting of his hips against your closed thighs.

And this one time you allowed yourself to feel satisfaction because of the state you managed to put him in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, please.” He whined against your skin, his face nuzzling into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. His arms held you tightly, his hips never stopping its erratic movements against your leg, sliding your skirt up in the process, desperate to feel your bare skin against his hard member. “Cutie, please. I already apologized so many times, just—please. Please, cutie? Let me in, yeah?” He looked into your eyes again, his gaze full of pleading and desperation, and you forced yourself to stay indifferent.

“Raf, no.” You answered, even though you wanted him too. But you couldn’t give in yet, not when you wanted to mess with him more for the way he treated you not so long ago. “First you scolded me for not talking to you, even though you knew that I had a rough week at work. And then, when I visited you, you called me, and I quote Rafayel, irritably clingy.” You answered, keeping your face turned away from him.

You still remember how you came into his home today, ecstatic to see him because you missed him the whole time you were away, hugging him and kissing at his mouth and cheeks happily only for him to push you away. The image of him turning his head away from you, his hand slightly pushing you away, a pout on his lips, is still vivid in your mind, making your heart squeeze painfully.

He didn’t care that you were truly busy, your legs aching from a whole week of fighting SSS-class Wanderers, your head begging for some rest. And instead of comforting you, he gave you his attitude, rejected your affection, called you clingy. You knew that most of the time he was not speaking seriously, and that he was prone to exaggeration and dramatics, but this time, you knew that you didn’t deserve such treatment.

You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine: you waited until he calmed down, then proceeded to seduce him, and when he became desperate and ready to get down to business, you were the one who pushed him away this time, refusing to let him in.

And he wasn’t taking it very well, especially after your time apart. Your previous touches ignited a flame within him, filling him with desire so tangible it was practically pouring out of him.

“So, let’s see who the clingy one really is now.” You added, and squeezed your tights even tighter, his hot breath warming your left cheek.

“Nooo, no, no, no. You know that I didn’t mean it, cutie. It was just, just a bad joke. A mistake I really regret. I really do.” His face nuzzled your cheek, hips still moving against your leg. His whimpers never-ending. “I love when you touch me. Kiss me. Hold me. I love it, you know that, you do.”

“Well, sometimes it would be great if you actually showed it to me instead of being mad at me for having a job.”

“I will! I promise, I will. I promise. I’m sorry.” He brought your body closer to himself, his arms going up and down your waist in a comforting gesture. “Let me in, please, you—you riled me up and—and left me, and I can’t, I can’t, I need to be inside you, please.”

“Rafayel…” You breathed out, your hands going to cup his warm cheeks, his pleading eyes meeting yours. You couldn’t give in that easily. “No.”

He choked out a cry.

And you saw how he snapped, his jaw tightened and eyes closed, one tear slipping away. Then another, and another, until he completely broke down, his face now wet, a pout on his lower lip, his hands touching your whole body erratically.

“Please. I’ll be good. I will.” He whimpered, completely out of control. You knew that until you gave him your consent, he would not force you to do anything. And the way he respected your wishes, although his whole body was trembling while he knew, he felt that you wanted him too despite your negations, was starting to made your resolve wither. “I’ll make you feel s’good. S’good like I always do, just—please. Open up for me?”

You shook your head and his lower lip trembled in response, his head going to rest on your shoulder, his hair wet and cold, making you shiver. He was sweating so bad. His hips were still rutting against your leg, but you knew that it wasn’t nearly enough for him; the friction only made him feel more impatient.

He choked out another broken cry, took your hand in his, kissed your knuckles, and continued kissing up your arm. You didn’t know how long you’ll be able to keep denying him, it was the first time you saw him acting so desperate, so pathetic for you and your need to comfort him was starting to become unbearable.

His glossy eyes met yours and you saw how red his lips were from how much he had been biting them. He leaned down and placed a soft, wet kiss on your lips. One. Two. Three kisses. All of them gentle, all of them apologetic.

“Please.” He whispered into your lips. Another kiss came, as soft and warm as the ones before. “—M—Mommy, please. I’m sorry.” The word that slipped from his lips was new, your eyes widening, your core squeezing on nothing but air.

Oh, god.

“Will you forgive me? Mommy, please, w—will you?” You looked at his face between his soft, gentle kisses and you’ve noticed how red he was, the embarrassment spreading up from the tips of his ears, down to his chest. “L-Let me make you feel good. I’ll be a good boy. The best boy.”

Your head was spinning, your cheeks turning red too. You couldn’t find it in yourself to hide how much you liked when he called you that way. God, what was he doing to you?

“Mommy, let me in. I need you. I need you s’bad I—” He opened his eyes and pressed a kiss to your brow and eyes, his hands shakily caressing your hair. “Don’t be mad anymore, okay? I just—I just can’t live without you that’s why I—That’s why I said these things. I always worry that you’ll forget about me and that’s why I’m gettin’ so defensive and mean. But I know you won’t, because you love me, and I love you and—i’m sorry.” He looked into your eyes and you had a feeling that if he won’t stop talking he was going to make you cry too.

You hugged him to yourself tightly and he reciprocated the hug immediately, his head resting on your chest. He sniffed and started to calm down, his body no longer shaking.

“I do love you, Rafayel.” You said into his hair, and you made him look up again, your hands going to grab his wet cheeks. His eyes glistened with hope, his lips swollen and wet. He looked so adorable that you couldn’t be mad at him anymore. “Next time you’ll miss me, just text me okay? Tell me how you feel, and no matter how busy I will be, I will find time to at least send you a voice message. And I will try to keep you updated when I’m away on missions.” He nodded happily, and you swiped the tears off of his cheeks. “But please, don’t push me away when I miss you just as badly. I get hurt too.”

“Yes. Yes, I won’t, I promise. I do.” He answered and kissed the palm of your hand, nuzzling into it. “I’m really sorry. I will never do that again. I swear.”

“Okay.” You answered quietly and then loosened up your thighs, making a place for him between your legs. His breath came out shakily, his cock immediately landing on top of your panties. Your skirt had been pushed up long ago, the material now resting on your stomach, giving him an easy access to where he wanted to be buried in from the very beginning.“Now come to me, my little fishie.”

He pressed a wet kiss on your mouth once again, and before you knew it he quickly grabbed your panties to the side and slid right into you, making you gasp both in surprise and out of pleasure.

He slipped the tongue between your lips and kissed you without mercy, his hips snapping quickly and erratically, the rhythm uneven, the force of the thrusts relentless.

Suddenly, he cried into your mouth, his whole body shuddering and then going completely still. You felt the reason why a second later.

The warmth spread inside you, overwhelming your senses.

“F—Fuck, sorry, I—I didn’t mean to…So fast…” He managed to utter, his body still shaking in the aftershocks of his sudden orgasm. Your hands went up to his hair, stroking the strands gently, showing him that you didn’t mind, wanting him to calm down and let himself drown in the pleasure.

“Shh, it’s okay. You did so well.” His face was red, his eyes avoiding yours, and you smiled gently at him. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and swiped your hand on his chest affectionately. “My sweet baby boy.”

“Yeah, yours.” His hips started to move again, making you moan in surprise. You wrapped your legs around him and he put one of his arms under your back, lifting you in order to make his thrusts reach deeper. “Always, yours. Only yours.” The pace was getting quicker, your moans mixing with his grunts, your heartbeats although unsteady, seemed to match each other’s tempo.

“M-mommy can I—Can I come inside again? I—I can’t stop.” He almost whispered into your ear, and you shuddered, the pleasure spreading throughout your whole body in the form of goosebumps. His lips were not leaving your body, pressing kisses on any patch of skin he could reach. “I missed you too much. You’re so warm. So safe.”

Rafayel’s beautiful eyes met yours, the purple somehow standing out in the darkness of the night. He send you a gentle smile, his thrusts slowing down, the movements becoming more precise and controlled.

“I don’t want the night to end, cutie.” He said quietly, as if he was sharing a secret. His hands cupped your cheeks and he studied your face, searching for any sign of pleasure. He wanted to know if he was making you feel as good as he promised he would. “Let me make it all better. I will show you how sorry I truly am, my love.”

The night was just getting started. And after several hours of moving rhythmically against each other, loosing yourselves in your passionate embrace, the sunrise was a witness to Rafayel’s vow; your wet bodies and tangled limbs a good enough proof of his fulfilled promise.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

GOD i’m so embarrassed. I wrote it in like half an hour and it SHOWS forgive me. I’ve never in my life written something so short and filthy. If u liked it screenshot it bc i’m not sure i will let it haunt tumblr for long 💀 UPDATE: OKAY I HEAR U I WON’T DELETE IT I SWEAR!!!! I had no idea it would be SO therapeutic for all of us thats actually so sad dndbsb ENJOY!

Better hope i’ll get that god of the tides or else rafayel will not know peace…. I will continue to bully him with my pen i swear to god.

[kittylicksxx]

Kitten wanna cuddle🐈

[kittylicksxx]

caleb w a crybaby, clingy, needy little sister who needs to be comforted every time he’s inside of her bc hes js toooo bigg…</3

warnings : praise, crybaby!reader, stepcest, use of gege and pipsqueak, caleb brings up that y’all are siblings during sex, big dick!caleb, belly bulge, cumming inside, unprotected sex <3

౨ৎ au : 𝓼tepbrother!caleb x 𝓬rybaby!reader ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

𝒞aleb knew you were going to start crying before you even got to. you were more of the crybaby type, always crying to your gege about mean people, grades, sad animals… anything really. so he wasn’t surprised when you started crying during sex. he tried to start off soft, he really did—but you were just too good and wet, he couldn’t stop himself from going faster, deeper.

“shh… i know, baby. i know, i’m so big, aren’t i? you’re taking me so well,” he murmured into your ear. your wrists were pinned down by his large hands and your ass was up, chest against your back as he rammed into your pussy. tears and sobs started falling from the overwhelming pleasure. it was just too good and you could feel him everywhere.

his free hand came to rub your tears away softly and you felt his thrusts slowing down in a pace that wasn’t so overwhelming. “i know, pips. don’t cry, gege’s hear for you. you’re such a good girl.” you let out a small mewl at the praise, your walls clenching around his thick cock and he let out a groan.

“mm, yeah, that’s it. just like that—yeah, tighten around me,” he whispered into your ear gently and his thrusts got deeper now, reaching a spot that he didn’t reach when he was going fast. you let out a chocked gasp at the feeling, your body jolting as he hit that spot again. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and new tears started to fall—but they were from pleasure now.

“caleb! haah, right there! oh, mhm!” you moaned out when his head massaged that spot just right, making your puffy folds flutter around his cock. “fuck, that’s it, hm, baby? your big brother’s hitting that good spot inside of you?” your jaw dropped and you mindlessly nodded.

his pace started to pick up again and his grip on your wrists tightened. the bed creaked with each thrust and he shushed your sobs, whispering things like “there ya’ go,” and “yeah, just breathe. just like that.” you felt like he was splitting you in half but it was so good, you didn’t want it to stop.

until you felt that tug in your gut. he had made you come thousands of times and each time it was too overwhelming for you, trying to kick him off of you and almost fainting when you gushed around him. this is no different.

“caleb! stop! m’close! stop—i can’t!” you gasped out and he let out a low growl into your ear. instead of stopping, he did the exact opposite. he started to ram into you rapidly, causing new tears to quickly fall from your eyes. your body twitched and squirmed but you couldn’t get away from him, not when you were pinned down like this.

you felt closer and closer and your breathing picked up, whines and whimpers falling out of your plump lips. “shh… i know. jus’ let go for me. it’s okay, pipsqueak,” he mumbled into your ear and his free hand came to where the bulge in your stomach was.

you let out a loud moan when he started to press on the bulge, fresh new juices gushing around his cock. “there you go, cum for me.” your body fell limp when you came—hard. he helped you through your orgasm, trying not to split you in half with how much your milking him and the sound that you made when you gushed around his cock.

you expected him to stop when you came before you got overstimulated—just like always. but no, he didn’t stop. “ca-leb! sensitive! mph!” you whined out but it was like caleb couldn’t here you. “i know, baby. just a little more—i needa cum. fuck, i’m close.”

with your sobs and moans, reaching his orgasm was easy. with a few more thrusts, you felt something warm and thick fill you up. your jaw dropped at the feeling and your walls clenched as they got painted. “oh! mph, haah…” his cock slowly softened inside of you and so did his thrusts. all you could do was twitch and caleb abruptly stopped carrying himself above you.

you were being squashed by him with how large he was and you let out a tired squeak. he chuckled. “sorry, pips.” and with that, he turned the two of you over so you were lying on his chest. his cock was still inside of you, but you didn’t care. you were already on the brink of sleep, feeling warm and full.