starlites-oath

[starlites-oath]

riding his waves

a/n : love and deepspace | rafayel smut | oneshot | mature and explicit | MDNI — not for kids | rafayel x femreader | read at your own risk | story masterlist : love and deepspace

The soft, cool sand was a stark contrast to the angry churn of the sea that had tossed you both like rag dolls just hours before. Now, only a gentle lapping sound broke the stillness, the waves themselves seeming to whisper apologies under the vast, moonlit sky.

You shivered, pulling the damp fabric of your clothes tighter, and glanced at Rafayel beside you. His usually vibrant purple hair was slick with seawater, clinging to his face, but his eyes, bluish-pink and iridescent even in the dim light, held a quiet intensity as he stared out at the ocean.

"Crazy night, huh?" you murmured, a half-laugh escaping your lips, still tasting of salt and adrenaline.

He turned to you then, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips, his gaze calm as he assessed you.

"Looks like we made it out relatively unscathed," he commented, his voice a low, smooth cadence that could calm any storm. He leaned back slightly on his hands, his posture relaxed despite the recent ordeal. "Not exactly how I pictured a beach trip, but... interesting."

"You too," you responded, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the fading chill. Stranded on this isolated shore, under a sky ablaze with stars, felt strangely intimate. The usual playful banter and his often teasing demeanor had fallen away, replaced by a shared vulnerability that felt strangely comfortable.

You found yourselves talking, the conversation flowing easily between the ebb and flow of the quiet waves. He listened with an attentiveness that was rare, his eyes never leaving yours as you spoke of little things, then bigger ones, until a long-buried secret found its way to your tongue.

"You know," you began, tracing patterns in the sand with your finger, feeling a sudden rush of shyness. "I have these dreams sometimes. They're always the same, or variations of it."

You hesitated, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "I'm deep in the sea, surrounded by glowing plankton, and there's... a silhouette. A beautiful, powerful figure, definitely male, with a tail. A merman."

You paused, a wistful sigh escaping. "I can never quite make out his face, just the strong, graceful outline."

Rafayel was silent, his gaze fixed on you, unblinkingly. The usual playful glint in his bluish-pink eyes was replaced by a profound, almost ancient knowing. There was a depth in his stare you hadn't seen before, an understanding that made your heart skip. When you finished, he finally shifted, turning his body slightly more towards the sea, but his attention remained acutely on you.

"There's an old legend," he said, his voice softer than usual, imbued with a strange, melancholic echo. His gaze seemed to unfocus for a moment, as if seeing something beyond the visible horizon.

"They say a long, long time ago, a powerful sea god was tricked. Trapped and chained in the deepest abysses of the ocean, waiting." He paused, and you could feel the weight of his words, even though you didn't quite grasp their full meaning. "Waiting for his bride to find him, to break the curse."

You tilted your head, a faint, incredulous smile touching your lips. "A god? Needing a bride to save him? What kind of god is that?" You meant it as a lighthearted joke, a way to lighten the sudden seriousness of his tone, which was so unlike his usual easygoing self.

Rafayel turned his head slowly, his profile illuminated by the moon, making the sharp line of his jaw and the curve of his lips seem impossibly perfect. His gaze drifted over the vast expanse of the now-gentle sea, the same waters that had raged so fiercely earlier. A profound sadness seemed to settle over his features, a shadow you had never witnessed before, a silent lament woven into the moonlight.

"They say," he continued, his voice barely a whisper, carried on the soft sea breeze, "that the sea god needed his heart. And his heart... his heart was with his bride."

The words hung in the air, imbued with such a longing, such an age-old sorrow, that your breath caught. It wasn't just a story; it felt like a confession, a distant, aching memory.

You found yourself leaning in, captivated by the raw emotion that briefly flickered in his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw. The legend, intertwined with your dreams, began to weave a strange, unsettling tapestry in your mind, pulling you deeper into a mystery you couldn't quite comprehend.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the melancholic facade vanished. He blinked, a faint, almost imperceptible shake of his head, and his signature chill, playful vibe snapped back into place like a well-practiced illusion.

He gave a soft, almost dismissive chuckle. "Yeah, something like that. Just an old story." He shrugged, his gaze now casual as he looked at the waves, though you caught the briefest flicker of something guarded, a quick retreat behind his usual easygoing mask.

You nodded slowly, still half-lost in the story, before you finally registered the proximity. You were sitting incredibly close, your knees almost brushing, the warmth emanating from him a comforting presence in the cool night. And as you shifted, your eyes met his.

The playfulness was gone. His gaze was no longer distant or casual; it was intensely focused, locked onto your lips. The soft moonlight painted them in silver, and you felt a sudden, inexplicable heat spread through you, a slow burn that mirrored the moon's glow on the water.

The silence stretched, charged with an unspoken desire, deep and consuming. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that mimicked the gentle lapping of the waves.

He leaned in, slowly, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent question in their depths. There was no demand, only a profound, quiet longing. You didn't pull away.

Your breath hitched, your gaze fixed on his, and you leaned in too, meeting him halfway. The first touch of his lips was soft, hesitant, a feather-light brush, then it deepened, becoming possessive, seeking, yet infused with an unspoken tenderness. The salt of the sea was on his skin, a taste that mingled with the sweet, intoxicating flavor of his kiss.

"Rafayel," you breathed against his lips, the question a whisper, "what... what are we doing?"

He responded by deepening the kiss further, his other hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you impossibly closer. His lips moved expertly against yours, coaxing, demanding, tasting. The kiss grew more urgent, a frantic dance of desire as his tongue sought yours, eliciting a soft moan that vibrated deep in your chest.

His fingers, cool initially from the dampness, began to roam, tracing the curve of your spine, then dipping lower, deftly finding the hem of your damp shirt. A shiver, not of cold but of intense pleasure, ran through you as he slowly, tantalizingly, began to pull the fabric away from your skin. In turn, your own hands, fueled by an undeniable hunger, fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, eager to shed the damp layers that separated you. The soft moonlight bore witness as fabric was discarded, revealing glimpses of warm skin beneath.

He broke the kiss for a moment, pulling back just enough to press his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of searing heat.

"Sharing body heat," he murmured against your collarbone, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent goosebumps across your skin. "It's cold out here, isn't it?" The playful nonchalance was back, but the underlying intensity was unmistakable.

"You could have easily reignited the bonfire," you managed, your voice breathless, your fingers now grappling with the last button on his shirt, his warm skin a delicious revelation as you finally pulled it open.

He gave a low grunt, a sound of pure male satisfaction as his shirt joined your own on the sand. He then pulled you completely onto his lap, your bare legs tangling with his, your chest now pressed flush against the smooth, firm expanse of his, the warmth radiating from him an intoxicating furnace.

"This is more effective," he rasped, his arms tightening around your waist, pulling you so close there was no space left between you.

He pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, his bluish-pink gaze intense and unwavering under the moonlight. His thumb stroked gently along your jawline.

"Should we continue?" he asked, his voice low, a silent question that held immense weight. There was no demand, only a clear invitation, a tender request for your permission.

Your heart throbbed, a wild drumbeat against his chest. Your breath hitched, and you simply nodded, unable to form words, your eyes locked with his. The quiet acceptance in your gaze was all the answer he needed.

Then, his mouth crashed onto yours, a sudden, hungry plunge that consumed your every thought. His tongue, no longer merely seeking, now dominated, intertwining with yours in a passionate dance that left you dizzy and breathless. You could taste him fully now, the lingering salt from the sea mixed with the intoxicating flavor of his desire.

His hands, no longer just roaming, were swift and purposeful, discarding the last remnants of your clothes, cool air momentarily caressing your bare skin before his warm, knowing touch returned.

His fingers splayed across your flesh, stroking, cupping, exploring, eliciting gasps that were swallowed by his fervent kisses. A thrill, sharp and exhilarating, shot through you at the thought of being so utterly exposed, so intimately vulnerable beneath the vast, open sky, where anyone could stumble upon you.

But the thought dissolved as quickly as it came, drowned in the overwhelming tide of sensations, leaving not a care in the world.

He shifted, aligning the tip of his hard cock against your throbbing, wet entrance. A breathless moment of anticipation, then he moved, slowly, sheathing himself within you, stretching you, filling you with his size.

You gasped, a sharp intake of breath, a delicious ache blooming deep inside.

Your forehead fell onto his shoulder, the soft curve of your neck exposed, your nails digging gently into the taut muscles of his back. He began to move, a steady, rhythmic pace that built with each powerful thrust.

The silence of the beach was now filled only by the ragged sound of your combined panting, the rhythmic whisper of skin colliding, and his low grunts and growls vibrating against your ear.

"Rafayel," you uttered, a raw, desperate prayer torn from your throat with each movement, begging for him to do more, to take you deeper into the intoxicating oblivion he offered.

He answered your plea by abandoning your mouth, his lips descending to capture one of your nipples, drawing it in with a hungry suckling motion that sent a jolt of pure fire through your veins. He covered it with his tongue, then teeth, pulling, nipping, as he continued to drive his cock inside your pussy.

Each thrust found that exquisite spot, making your toes curl, a delicious torment that pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as the waves of sensation threatened to consume you entirely, his voice, a low, husky command, reached your ear. "Look at me," he whispered, breaking contact from your breast to gaze into your eyes, his bluish-pink irises blazing with an intense, raw desire.

And you did. As the first wave of climax seized you, you met his gaze, clinging to his arms for dear life, riding the overwhelming sensation, your vision blurring with pleasure.

But Rafayel did not stop. He used the very force of your release, the sudden clenching around him, to drive even harder, deeper, hitting that very same spot. Wave after wave of intense sensation crashed over you, making you lose yourself completely in the oversensitivity, until you climaxed for the nth time, each one more intense than the last.

Only then did Rafayel slowed down, his powerful thrusts becoming languid, a gentle rocking motion. He pulled your naked body fully against his, pressing you flush, as if this rhythm, this slow dance, was his way of memorizing every curve, every gasp, every scent of you.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He continued that intimate rhythm, a soft, hypnotic sway, until gradually, it began to quicken, becoming faster, then frantic. You felt the raw power building in him, knew he was close.

"Milk me dry, beautiful," he rasped against your ear, his voice strained with impending release, a final, fervent request.

And you did. With a final surge of strength, you rode him, milking his cock dry, until with a shared, desperate cry, you both came together, a violent, beautiful explosion under the moonlit sky.

You remained that way for a long moment, collapsed against each other, the only sounds the pounding of your hearts and the gentle lapping of the waves. Basking in each other's embrace, you savored the shared ecstasy, the profound intimacy of the moment. Rafayel's chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your ear, his ragged pants gradually evening out.

He stirred, pulling back just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, then your jaw, before nuzzling into your neck once more. "Next time," he murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rumble against your skin, a playful edge returning to his tone, "it'll be in a proper bed. Where I can fuck you into my mattress without the sand."

[starlites-oath]

Rafayel Drabble: His insatiable need to be touched by you.

He is a man of great dignity. Haughty, unimpressed, and utterly disinterested in those who approach him without purpose. He carries himself with a regal air, a stubborn artist that preferred his solitude. Yet when it comes to you, all his carefully maintained walls crumble.

You, after all, are his greatest indulgence.

You reward him with your affection. He’s flushed at the feel of your fingertips raking up his neck and hair. His body ignites, heat rolling off him in waves as he presses himself closer, nestling instinctively into his home—your embrace. You card your fingers through his hair, tugging absentmindedly, and it isn’t until his scalp dampens with sweat that you realize just how deeply he’s sunk into the moment.

His face transitioned from a soft blush to a rich, prominent red burning through his face, his breath hot against your collarbone. You push him off, alarm flashing through you.

♆ “You’re feverish?! Do you need a bath?”

It takes great effort to create even a sliver of distance between you. His chest rises and falls in a shallow rhythm, protesting the sudden loss of contact. He grumbles, almost petulant, and before you can blink, he’s tugging you back in, his grip firm yet pleading.

♆ “I’m fine. Just let me stay like this.” His voice is a throaty murmur against your skin, his arms locked around you, opposing your escape. He is at his most docile like this, when he’s allowed to leech your warmth, your presence, your touch. You’d call him a barnacle if it didn’t offend him.

Distance turns him irritable. When you’re away, he becomes impossible—mouthy and temperamental, lashing out in petty frustrations as if doing so will somehow close the gap. He’s restless without you, unable to compose himself, and when your phone calls start to wind down, he scrambles for any excuse to prolong them. The moment he senses your thumb hovering over the end button, his tone spikes, a desperate edge creeping into his words.

The easiest way to rile him up is to multitask during a video call. The instant your screen shifts, casting an unfamiliar hue across your face, he falls silent. A storm brews behind his eyes.

♆ “Why is your screen green? I’m not in a field.”

♆ “Oh, someone sent me a quick video—”

♆ “Is it for work?” His voice sharpens, cutting through your explanation. “I’m still talking to you. I haven’t seen you in ages, and now I can’t even keep your attention?”

You stifle a sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Any visible irritation will only stoke the fire, and he’d make you pay for it in his own way. The silent treatment is ineffective when you’re too busy to give him something to ignore, and when you travel, the only moments you can steal together are exchanging goodnights through a screen.

But once you return, he wastes no time in reclaiming you. The world outside ceases to exist the moment he pulls you in, locking the door behind you, shutting out everything and everyone that isn’t you. Your fingers sink into the exposed flesh of his back, desperate to widen the space between your bodies. He cages you under his frame on the cold, stained floor of his studio.

Sprawled around the room are unfinished paintings, his dissatisfaction prevalent in the harsh brush strokes. The slow deterioration of his inspiration drove him mad in his muse’s absence, and your unwillingness to acknowledge him exhausted his patience. He fought with his clothes as he ate at your flesh, biting and scraping his teeth over your chest and neck. Your bodies overheat when he closes the gap, huffing and whining against your ear as he throbs against your clothed warmth.

♆ “Please baby, I need you—I need this.”

His hold is suffocating, the shallow rise and fall of his chest pressing against yours. You jolt when a hand hikes up your dress, exposing your ass to the cold tile. A groan escapes his lips as he fights the urge to take you himself.

♆ “Take it off, hurry.”

[starlites-oath]

mdni

just reread the nightly rendezvous cards and woah

i caught onto the implied meaning behind a lot of the flowery language the first time i read these cards but woah did i miss some of it

mc got on top of sylus and wanted to set the pace???

but he said “i can’t give you that much control yet” and proceeded to bounce her on his lap

[starlites-oath]

Raf and Xavier are the type to want you to watch as they go in btw (and will make sure you do)

[starlites-oath]

LaDs: Random Head-Canons

~ these are just random little ideas I have about each love interest, like a previous post I made, most of these have no prior canon lore to back the claim. Just based on vibes.

You and Rafayel plan your arguments. Contrary to popular belief, you two don’t fight often at all. Due to that, you two like to role play arguments for giggles. It usually ends when one of you can’t keep it together and/or the argument turns real. Which usually means it’s time to tap out and do some damage control.

You and Sylus dedicate at least twenty minutes of time before bed to lay together and gossip. It’s like having a sleepover with your bestie. You get settled, face each other, and just go on and on about whoever and whatever until your eyelids are heavy and he can’t stop yawning.

You and Zayne frequently shower together. It’s your favorite way of getting a little quality time in before starting your days. 9/10 times it doesn’t lead to sex either, just soft giggles shared under a warm stream of water while you discuss what your days hold and when to expect the other to arrive home. You even plan out your dinner for the night while shampooing his hair.

You and Xavier garden together. Not that kind of gardening, actual gardening on his balcony with plants you’ve adopted from Jeremiah’s shop. You’ve given them all names, have a detailed care plan hanging on Xavier’s fridge, and the passcode to his apartment if he’s off in a no hunt zone. They’re your babies.

You and Caleb have spa nights. I’m talking mani/pedi, face mask, hair mask, under eye patches, lymphatic massages, the whole nine yards. Caleb shaves your legs for you as a thanks for shaving his stubble since he always cuts his face up. But with your legs? He’s so gentle, so careful, doesn’t miss a single hair. He also rocks the black nail polish you applied to his fingers.

Rafayel takes note of what perfumes you buy, and jots down his thoughts on them. He’s still a little traumatized (heavily turned on) by that one perfume. The one you only have an unlabeled bottle of, the one you use to rile him up. So he takes down the scent notes from your other fragrances to try and compare to the unlabeled bottle but dammit he gets so… distracted that he can only recall one possible note at a time.

Sylus stole one of your trinkets — it was a duplicate figure from a blind box — and keeps it in his pocket whenever he goes out on business. It’s his way of keeping a piece of you with him all the time. The silly little thing makes him smile like a moron when he feels it in his pocket or sets it out on the table before him while he works. He’s named it his “mini kitten” and he’ll send you pictures of it on his travels.

Zayne designed your engagement ring himself one afternoon while listening to a colleague drone on and on about research he already knew by heart. He draws well, steady hands and precise eyes aided him in school when he had to draw out anatomy diagrams. But now? He can doodle for fun and it turns out pretty damn good. So he spent the meeting designing your ring, eager to make it real.

Xavier has a list of baby names saved on his phone. Any time he heard one he liked, he’d open his note app and jot it down. At this point, he has nearly thirty names saved, and has even discussed the topic with you and added some additions. Perhaps he’s too invested now, because all of his recommended items are baby clothes and furniture. It’s giving him baby fever.

Caleb wants to get tattoos but the DAA and the Farspace Fleet have strict policies on them. He still snuck one, a matching one he got with you shortly after you graduated high school. It’s hidden on the inside of his bicep, as is yours, and it’s another little secret the two of you share together.

[starlites-oath]

Nobody:

Sylus randomly once in a while:

[starlites-oath]

Good listener

[starlites-oath]

everytime someone mischaracterizes rafayel or say he’s “finally manly” an angel loses its wings

[starlites-oath]

JUST GOODNIGHT

you call sylus, just to say goodnight.

sylus x gn!reader

CW pet names used, sylus is worried aw, no warnings basically. WC 0.5k

NOTE inspired by the tiktok trend, first time writing in a while kinda nervous.

It’s two hours past midnight, but for all you know, the night is still young. Sylus had left earlier in the night to take care of some business. Not without saying goodbye to you, of course. Though the more you think about it, you do miss hearing his voice.

He shouldn't be too busy. Certainly not too busy to ignore a call when it's your name and picture that are illuminating his entire phone screen. In your defense, it would be a quick call.

He picks up before his phone finishes its first ring.

“Still awake, kitten?”

Your right hand presses your phone against your ear, while your left is clasped tight over your mouth, suppressing laughter that is dangerously close to revealing your hidden motive. On the sofa across from yours, Luke and Kieran mirror your actions, hiding their own amusement. They had come up with the prank themselves.

However, on Sylus’ end, your silence is abnormal; it’s deafening, and it terrifies him.

“What’s wrong. Where are you?” Amid the urgency in it, there’s that lift in his voice that only arises as one goes from sitting to standing up. You then hear the quick rustling of fabric, his gun snapped back in its holster. The opening and slamming of a door. 

Your eyes widen. You're well aware of what Sylus is capable of when his emotions are strong. Your palm flies away from your face and what comes out of your mouth is louder than expected.

“What! Sylus, no! Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” The movement from his side of the call stops.

The twins send a confused glance your way, prompting you to put Sylus on speaker mode. If he had noticed the shift in the white noise, he doesn't comment on it.

“Go on, then.” He’s suspicious already. Never doubt a dragon’s instincts.

“Well, I have something to tell you.” And if he wasn’t so concerned for your well-being, he would’ve missed the mischievous tilt in your voice. He didn’t.

“Something so important that it kept you awake for this long?”

“That’s what it’s about, actually.”

“About… sleeping.”

“Yep.” 

“Continue.”

“I just want to tell you.” You interrupt yourself to shoot a glare at Luke, who seems a second away from laughing out loud. “Goodnight.”

He pauses. Then his deep, unrestrained laughter flows from your phone’s speaker and fills the room. “Is that all?” 

“Yes. So… goodni—”

“Sweetie, shouldn’t I get to return the wish?” He cuts you off before you get a chance to hang up.

"Oh! I mean, if you want to?"

“Goodnight, darling. Ah, and before I forget, tell Luke and Kieran it’s past their bedtime too. My dear kitten needs her rest.”

My dear kitten. You're mortified. Heat consumes your entire face as the twins finally let their howls of laughter loose.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying. I’m hanging up-” But despite your words, you couldn’t yet end the call without saying it again, “goodnight.” click. 

“How did he know!” 

“He must’ve been onto us!”

You ignore the twins, still rolling in their own laughter, as you look at the newest notification on your phone. It’s a singular text from Sylus.

Sleep well. I’ll be there when you wake up.

[starlites-oath]

anyone else think the next LI evol will be radiation manipulation?

just thinking bc…..

1. all of the evols have been related to space

2. sylus and caleb’s evols include the concept of “manipulation”

first three LI- light, ice, fire

second three evols- energy manipulation and gravity manipulation

this all leads me to believe the last LI will also have a “manipulation” of a cosmic element

radiation seems like a good candidate for an evol

[starlites-oath]

did anyone else get that interaction with zayne???

he’ll take off the sunglasses when you tell him you wanna see his eyes!!!

literally how cute, i think this is new bc the devs saw us complaining about him always wearing that outfit.

[starlites-oath]

EN vs CN: Summer Daydream Event (Chapter 1)

Let's have a look at some of the translation differences in the Summer Daydream Event:

1. Censorship of their "big bro" and "lil sis" dynamic in the flashback scene

[EN Version]

Caleb's Friend 1: Caleb, stop hovering around her and get over here. We need a fourth player for this board game. Caleb's Friend 2: MC, we're borrowing Caleb for a bit. We'll bring him back when he loses!

[CN Version]

Caleb's Friend 1: Caleb, stop sticking to your lil sis. Come here, come here, come here! We're missing a fourth player for this game of aeroplane chess! Caleb's Friend 2: MC, we're borrowing your big bro for a bit. We'll return him to you when he loses!

The CN version seems to hint more strongly towards MC and Caleb's closeness, to the point where Caleb's friends view them as inseparable.

2. Censorship of their "big bro" and "lil sis" dynamic in the present

[EN Version]

Caleb: You're the only one celebratin' my birthday with me this year. But...

Caleb quickly flips to a blank page in the album.

Caleb: And I'm saving this for just the two of us. MC: But it's always us...

I'm about to ask if there was a difference, but I stop myself at the last second.

MC: (Maybe things are different now. He's still the same Caleb, but also not... Maybe he feels the same way about me too.)

[CN Version]

Caleb: You're the only one celebrating my birthday this year. But...

The album rustles as Caleb flips to a new, blank page.

Caleb: This year, aside from taking photos with your big bro, shouldn't you also be taking photos with "Caleb"? MC: But aren't they all photos with you-

Although I'm about to ask if there's a difference, the words end up pausing at my mouth.

MC: (Maybe there's truly starting to be a difference. To me, although Caleb is still my big bro, he's no longer just a big bro... Caleb probably feels the same way. To him, I'm no longer just his "little sis".)

[starlites-oath]

birthday indulgences

the kiss we silently swore never to talk about again...

summary: years ago, on your birthday, you & caleb shared a forbidden moment. it isn't until his birthday that all those hidden desires are finally indulged in.

★pairing: caleb x fem!reader ★wc: 3.5k ★content: fluff & smut. drunk first kiss & grinding in the memory, caleb panics, a tiny bit of angst. sloppy makeouts, spit kink, dry humping, coming in pants, desperate & subby caleb, overstimulation. caleb calls reader pipsqueak, baby, honey and love. reader calls caleb baby. ★a/n: I love that theory that the kiss they don't talk about happened when they were younger, and then I thought ooo I could do a parallel with this. it was supposed to be sweet and it turned smutty, but it's still sweet. I'll probably do a more intimate version of their first time once his card is out! ★masterlist ★read on ao3

You couldn't believe you had actually gotten Caleb to go along with your plan.

When you'd told him you needed a break from your college campus, and that you wanted to go out and get drunk in Skyhaven for your birthday, he was already nodding along on the video call.

"Alright, pipsqueak," he agreed with a grin. "I'll tag along and take care of you. Gotta make sure you're staying hydrated."

"No, no, no." You shook your head, grinning wickedly when he cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. "You're going with me."

He arches an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Uhh, earth to pipsqueak, did you not hear what I just said? I am going—"

"Nooo," you interrupt, wagging your finger. "You're going drinking with me."

He'd sputtered, complained and argued all he wanted, but he had agreed to every one of your terms by the time you hung up the call.

And here you were, tipsy and laying back on the floor of his Aerospace Academy assigned studio apartment, watching the ceiling fan spin while you both giggled over something you can't quite remember.

You glance over at where Caleb's sprawled out beside you, smiling at the happy, hazy look in his eyes that surely matches your own. It was impossible to see him ever completely loosen up, and this was the best birthday gift you could've asked for.

Then your thoughts immediately take a different direction when he licks his lips.

They're too dry. You know because you'd jokingly held him down as you swiped your own chapstick across them countless times.

And you'd caught him running his thumb over his cracked bottom lip, tongue darting out across the lingering taste of you when he thought you weren't looking.

Your whole face feels too hot suddenly, blood rushing so fast through your ears that you can't even hear the idle sounds of Skyhaven late at night that drift up through the cracked window.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss someone.

To have their lips press to yours, all tentative and sweet. To know that liking them wasn't in vain, that hoping they felt the same way wasn't just a daydream you'd kept hidden for years. To see the adoration in their eyes when they pull back and caress your cheek.

Purple eyes with an orange sheen.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss Caleb.

"Caleb," you whine, watching the dopey smile grow on his face at your voice. "Am I too old to have never been kissed?"

Caleb's eyes widen, flashing to yours.

"I—" he blinks rapidly, and you giggle at the rare occasion of having caught him completely off guard. "What?"

"Kiss-ing," you draw out, tapping your lips with each letter you spell out for him, "k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

Caleb watches each tap with rapt attention, so captivated that his own lips slowly part. A bit of drool collects at the corner of them, and your vision goes hazy before he quickly looks away.

"Oh." He sounds breathless, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "Uh, I dunno, pipsqueak. I mean, I'm older than you and I've never kissed anyone. Is that weird?"

He gives a little laugh, but you hear the stiff edge to it, can see the uncertainty haunting the façade of his easy expression.

"Really?" you roll over onto you stomach, propping your chin onto your palms.

Your legs kick behind you, and he glances at you and away again.

After a stretch of awkward silence, he turns onto his side, meeting your gaze.

"I mean, yeah," he mutters, shrugging one shoulder. "Why would I?"

You look down at his never-been-kissed lips, feeling your blood rush to your head when he bites them.

Your eyes dart back down, watching his necklace brush against the floor from the angle he lays at.

"Sooo…you've never wanted to kiss anybody?" you ask, trying to seem casual, even as your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt when he shifts closer.

"I didn't say that," Caleb mutters, and you go rigid.

"Oh."

You flop back onto your back, glaring up at the ceiling fan before he can notice how your brows have pinched, your mouth pressed into a firm line.

"Pips?" Caleb pokes at your cheek, and you pout, turning on your side away from him. "What's got you all frowny-faced?"

"Nothing," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Uh-huuuh."

He pokes at your back, then your side, until his fingers are lightly tickling at your ribs. You giggle, kicking your feet out at him.

"Caleb, stooop," you whine, pushing back at him as he tries to tug you back over to face him.

"C'mon, pips," he teases, pinching your waist, and you squeak. "Why won't you look at me?"

Flipping over to smack him, you accuse with totally justified, totally sober and coherent anger, "I'm mad at you, dummy!"

He blinks, and you try and not melt at how cute he looks like this—drunk and flushed, with those big confused puppy dog eyes.

"Why?"

Instead of answering him directly, you ask, "Was it the girl in your chemistry class?"

"The—" Caleb blinks again, shifting back in surprise. "What?"

"That you wanted to kiss sooo badly." You frown, crossing your arms again. "The one who copied off your homework, and you were too nice to stop her. Or was it the guy who always tried to beat your track record?"

"Pips—"

"Or the cheerleader captain? Or is it somebody at university, huh? Are you sneaking around making googly eyes at the other pilots?"

"Oh, quit it." Caleb rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead with an unamused huff. "I didn't want to kiss any of them. I don't want to."

"Then who?" You push yourself up, and he sits up to match your restless energy. He always rises to that familiar challenge in your eyes, pulling when you push. "Who exactly is just so damn special that you're still saving that kiss for them?"

Caleb's eyes flash, and he leans up and over you until his large frame is surrounding you completely.

"Maybe it's someone I like with a bratty mouth," he snaps, gently pinching your lips shut between calloused fingers.

Your wide eyes meet his blazing ones, and you both freeze.

His fingers loosen on your lips, and your lashes flutter.

He watches your eyes dilate, then looks down to where he gingerly brushes his fingers along the seam of your lips, his breath audibly hitching when they part for him.

Caleb's lids fall heavy over his darkening gaze. Your breath speeds up in your chest. He looks from your lips to your eyes, then back down to your lips again.

And when you glance down at his own mouth, you're both crashing into each other.

Your first kiss with your childhood friend, your best friend, was anything but the magical one you had just been daydreaming about.

This was sloppy and needy, all tongue and spit and teeth. Years of emotion you didn't know how to unpack began to unravel at the seams, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you as you fall back onto the floor.

Neither of you knew what you were doing, only that you were desperate for more. His hands grab at your waist, slipping down to your thighs briefly, and snapping back up when he realized what he was touching.

Then his arms are wrapping around you, corded muscles tightening to hold you close to him as you squirm from all the years of pent up tension.

Your lips meet his again and again, needy sounds filling the air. His own spit dribbles down your chin as Caleb licks into your mouth and moans against your tongue.

Your foot trails up his leg, wrapping around his calf, and he mindlessly grabs at it, hoisting it up until it was wrapping securely around his hip. The fabric of your skirt rides up, and you jolt when you feel the growing bulge in his jeans rub against the thin fabric of your dampening panties.

The sensation is brief, then harder, until you're rolling against each other in a delirious haze of desperation.

He's mumbling something incoherent into your lips, teeth sinking into the soft flesh until you feel it start to break, and you moan his name.

Caleb jerks back, eyes wide and pupils swallowing all the purple except for the thinnest ring around the edge. His chest heaves, kiss-swollen lips forming soundless words.

Lips swollen from your kisses.

You whine, reaching for him as he begins to panic, de-tangling himself from you.

"No," you beg, trying to tug him back as he gently pulls your grabbing hands away. "No no no—"

"Pips, you're—" his voice is ragged, and he sucks in a deep breath.

His eyes are wild, darting around at everything but you, even as he tugs your skirt back down around your waist. His cheeks blaze red when he steals another quick look at the ruined panties underneath, the soaked fabric with a lacy band, before he turns away in shame.

"You're drunk," he breathes, shaking his head sharply.

"I'm not—"

"I'm drunk." Caleb laughs, disbelief coating the sound, long fingers running through his hair until it's sticking up in all directions. "Shit. Fuck. This wasn't—this wasn't supposed to happen—"

Your body begins to defensively curl inwards, and you blink quickly to try and keep the sudden sting of tears at bay.

Caleb finally dares a glance back at you, going from flushed to shockingly pale in seconds.

"No, no, pipsqueak—"

"No, it's fine," you sniff, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the floor. "I get it. You…you didn't want it to be me. I get it."

"No, no no no," he keeps mumbling the word the entire time you're moving away, and suddenly Caleb's on his hands and knees, crawling after you with those big, sad puppy dog eyes. "No, pips, that's not what I meant—"

"It's fine, Caleb."

"It's not fine," he insists, resting the side of his cheek against the top of your knees. His eyes are wide and wet, begging for you to just look at him. "You heard what I said. Who I said. Who I…wanted."

His voice gets impossibly quiet, and Caleb's honest gaze begs for your attention.

But you're too fixated by the dark indentation your teeth had left in his lips, the shine on them that could've been your saliva or his.

"It's just not a good idea, pips," he whispers, and you flinch, followed by his own grimace. "Shit, no, that sounded bad. It's just because—"

He stops, shaking his head, palm covering his face.

"I can't think straight," he mumbles, peeking at you through his fingers. With a sigh, he drops his hand onto your knee, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. His voice is so gentle, so Caleb, but it still grates at your sensitive nerves right now. "I think we both just need to sleep this off. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You sniff, still not meeting his eyes completely.

"No, we wont," you mumble, even as you let yourself be gently directed towards his bed.

He's silent as he helps you prepare for sleep, even as he moves to sleep on his little couch, opting for his long legs to cramp up on the furniture instead of cuddling with you. The tension radiates off him at your accusation—because he knows you're right.

"We'll never talk about it again."

But here you are, years later, in the same situation as before.

You're both sober this time. You're older, maybe wiser, and scarred from being torn apart before coming back together.

But the way Caleb looks at you has never changed. Like you hung the stars in the sky, like you were the moon the sun chased with every morning.

He doesn't shy away when you look at him just the same. He doesn't pull back now, doesn't keep his longing locked away when your thumb brushes his lips, collecting the residue of the candy you'd fed him.

You wanted today to be a special birthday for him. You wanted to give him everything he'd ever wanted.

"Remember when you kissed me?" you breathe, and his eyes flash in surprise at what you'd silently sworn to never speak of again, beautiful lashes fluttering at your exhale across his lips. "On my birthday?"

He laughs, a little quiet huff of air, and his shock melts to something knowing. Something you'd both always known, deep down.

"You kissed me," he accuses, all low and sultry in his teasing, and you shiver.

You smile, your thumb caressing the corner of his lips.

It didn't matter who had kissed who anymore, who pulled back from who. You'd still ended up where you both belonged.

Caleb gazes up at you, awestruck when your eyes darken.

"Then you knew I wanted it," you whisper, nose bumping against his. "So why did you stop?"

You lean in slowly, giving him a moment to pull away if he still wanted to, if he still needed time. He'd given you all the time in the world, after all. You'd happily wait for him, too.

But then Caleb's lips are on yours, and everything finally feels right.

He tastes like sour lemon candy, and you whine, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He moans, fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck me," he groans under his breath, and you laugh between the kisses that heat up between you.

"If you insist," you murmur, smirking into his mouth when his hips jerk up into yours.

The whimper that leaves his lips is quiet and needy, and you eagerly swallow it down.

"Don't tease me like that, baby," Caleb rasps, and your own hips roll in his lap at that low huskiness to his voice.

His hands tighten on your hips, stilling you. You pause, wondering if you'd taken it too far.

But then he's directing you, pulling your legs around to straddle him completely. He guides you into a deeper roll, and you both moan.

You sink down onto him with slow grinds, the hem of your dress hiding just how quickly your panties were getting wet. In the rosy haze of growing pleasure, you wonder how long it'll take to soak that erection he's been sporting since you walked in the room.

"Didn't even try and hide how hard you were when I came in," you whisper into your languid, sensual kissing. "Did you?"

Caleb's hand slips down, cupping your ass easily in his rough palm and long fingers. You moan when he squeezes it, followed by a squeak of surprise at his gentle, experimental smack to it.

"You can't talk like that, pips," he pants, head tilting back against the couch. His voice is that delicious shade of darkness when he adds, "God, you can't make those sounds either. I won't last long if you do."

His eyes are hazy as he watches you lean down, kissing along the elegant slope of his neck. You stop at the harsh bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps, and your teeth graze along it, humming at the moan you feel vibrate there.

"I've thought about that kiss for years," Caleb gasps, hand sliding up your back to keep you pressed to him. His hips lazily roll up into yours, his eyes rolling back into his head when he suddenly bucks up once. "Every time I—"

He cuts himself off, biting at his already swollen lips with a blush.

You smile, devious in your intent, and his mouth falls open when your hidden possessive streak unfolds.

"Every time you—" you leave your question hanging, letting the way you begin to bounce in his lap be the answer.

"You—" Caleb chokes, gripping your hips.

His eyes glue to the motion of your hips flexing under your dress, ass coming up and smacking back down against the strength of his large thighs. You feel him twitch through his jeans, and you moan along with him.

"F-fuck," he groans, mouth hanging open, the tip of his tongue falling out.

You lean forward, collecting the saliva in your mouth. Realizing what you're doing, Caleb tilts his head up and sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and dilated.

You let your spit pool onto his tongue, and he takes it eagerly, swallowing it down with a whine and a thrust of his hips.

"I've thought about it, too," you breathe, and his lidded eyes flicker between your face and where you're shamelessly humping him. "Every single time. Even when I'm not trying to. But when I'm touching myself—"

"Oh fuck—"

"And I'm trying to come, all I can think about is how warm you were and your spit in my mouth—"

"B-baby," Caleb stutters, his head lolling to the side, unfocused eyes fluttering and rolling back in his head with each dry slap and grind of your hips against his. "Please, please—"

"I always think of kissing you when I'm coming—"

"Coming," Caleb gasps, and you think he's just mindlessly repeating you until you notice how rigid he's gotten, completely still and flushed bright red as he moans, "oh, fuck, I'm coming—"

And you can feel it, the sticky warmth flooding into the front of his jeans, seeping into you as you gasp. You grind down against his throbbing cock underneath the stifling fabric, wishing you were taking every drop of his cum instead, not letting a bit of it go to waste.

Caleb whines, crying out softly as you roll your hips, and you swallow every pretty sound with hot kisses until your clothed clit catches on his ruined jeans just right.

"Oh fuck, there—" you gasp, lips messily attached to his. You feel the tears of pleasure and overstimulation streaming down his face as he bucks up into you still. "Caleb, Caleb—"

"Come," he begs, and your eyes meet his. Your hips falter at the unadulterated affection there before you speed up, breath hitching when you feel yourself being to crest over into mind-numbing pleasure. "Come for me, honey, please come for me love please—"

Your eyes pinch shut, and you cry out for him when the orgasm hits you all at once, all your limbs seizing up as you convulse in his lap.

"Oh fuck there, there it is," Caleb grunts, grabbing at your trembling thighs under your dress, moaning when he feels your slick that had dripped down them. "You're coming, you're actually coming—"

Your pussy flutters and tightens in your soaked panties, and you moan, wondering what it would have felt like if you had had the foresight to tug his cock out of his pants, if your precious Caleb had filled you up before you came around him.

Next time, you think in a haze, giggling breathlessly when you realize there was an endless number of next times now.

Caleb's lips meet yours, and you meet each kiss as they slow into something lazy and content. He keeps leaning closer and closer to you, his hand cupping the back of your head, protecting you when you both end up weakly tumbling to the ground, and you laugh.

Your eyes are warm and shining with joy when you look up at him, pulling him down for another kiss, and another, because they were all yours now. Every kiss, every moment.

It was the same messy meeting of tongue and spit and teeth from that unspoken moment years ago, except this time, he wouldn't pull away.

"When do we get to do that again?" you gasp, and he laughs too, bright and happy and maybe, finally at some semblance of peace.

"Whenever you want it," Caleb hums, pulling back to kiss the tip of your nose, then your cheekbone, your eyelashes, all the way up to your temple and back down to your lips again.

"Well," you start, grinning as your loop your arms around his neck. He smiles down at you in befuddled admiration, like he couldn't believe you were really here. "You're the birthday boy."

There's a subtle shift in his eyes, suddenly shining with vulnerability when he asks, "But you want it?"

"Oh," you whisper, brushing at the leftover tears that cling to his long lashes. You kiss them when his eyes shut, your nose nuzzling against his.

Dummy, you think fondly. Worried you didn't want any more when you just had the best orgasm of your life, just from dry humping his lap.

When you'd been dreaming of doing this for years. When you would've been happy if all he wanted was just a kiss.

But his post-nut shyness was sweet, even if coupled with that deep-rooted fear that when he closed his eyes, you'd disappear. And your heart was too full of love not to reassure him.

So you banished the shadows that haunted the corners of his mind with another gentle kiss, pressing all your love for him into it.

"Of course I want it, Caleb," you murmur, smiling up at him. "You're all I've ever wanted."

He sighs, his lips meeting yours in another kiss. This one is unhurried, an intimate promise between you.

"Happy birthday, baby," you whisper, and he smiles.

[starlites-oath]

Some idiots try to tie knots

[starlites-oath]

i really like sylusmc like. specifically mc in sylus' route because i think he honors mcs strength the most of any li aside from xavier. its clear he really trusts she can handle herself and treats her with a lot of respect and i enjoy seeing it

[starlites-oath]

whenever you’re visibly anxious, zayne knows just what to do. when he sees the speed you're breathing, he’d internally be fretting about how it isn’t good for your heart to be beating so fast (he’s half tempted to go grab his stethoscope, but he refrains from saying anything). instead, he places a warm mug of fragrant tea in your shaking hands and sits down next to you on the couch while you for it to cool down, the herbal steam heating your face and easing the tension in your body. he’ll order food from anywhere you want, but on the days he can tell you’re not up to deciding, he has one of your favorite spots he defaults to. if you feel like talking about what triggered the anxiousness, he’ll give you his full attention. he’s silent while you're speaking, and turns his whole body towards you. he pauses before giving a response as honest as it is compassionate.

eventually, you two end up curled up on the couch, with the throw blanket that had previously been wrapped around your shoulders now draped over your interlocked limbs.

[starlites-oath]

Sylus is so healing for me because he loves Mc for the things that society hated women for. He loves her independence, greediness, determination. Its so healing to see a woman be loved for those things. Her agency and consent matter to him so much!