lost

nerisse | multifandom

[mwphisto]

Part 1 <-

"Valko! Harder, please..."

Your fingers are digging into the leather seat of his jeep, ass nearly hitting the steering wheel as he guides you up and down the thick length of his cock. "Don't wanna...ha-hurt ya, pretty girl."

His grip is steady on your skin, sweat beading down his temple as he watches your breasts bounce with each drop of your hips. He hadn't even made it to the convenience store. Barely gotten five minutes away from his Gram's home before you were begging him to pull over.

"You're not gonna hurt me." You push down in time with his hands, slamming onto the thick base of his cock with a high-pitched mewl. "Fuck me like you mean it, Val. Please." The growl that vibrates his chest makes you clamp down, hard. Heat flooding your body as his hips jerk up to slap into your own.

"Y-ou're such a devil." He musters, knees hitting the bottom of the steering wheel as he gets leverage. Timing his hands and hips to truly pound into you. "Yes!" Head falling back, your hands slip from the leather to bunch into the shirt you had forced him to put on.

The very shirt you hadn't been able to get off him all the way. It was pushed up as far as you could manage, revealing the toned abdomen and pecs that had landed you both in this predicament in the first place. "Like that! Oh my god, Valko! Yes, yes!"

Valko's face was tense, jaw tight and teeth bared as he struggles on where to focus. His eyes can't land on one spot, stuck on the backwards tilt of your head. The tantalizing exposure of your neck and jiggling breasts. The bite mark he bestowed on you, claiming you as his on full display even in the darkness of the car.

There is also where he keeps disappearing inside of you. Your thighs and his wet with your arousal, wet plaps sounding in the enclosed space. His sense are overwhelmed, the car reeks of sex and your scent. He could cum from that alone, never mind your pretty sounds.

"That's my girl, ride this dick baby. Just like that, yeah? That's how you like it? Nice n'hard? Love it when I pound you dumb?" He's losing it, twitching inside of you as his nails dig into your soft flesh.

"Yes! Yes, fuck. I love it, I love you." You're nearly drooling, finally looking down at him and nearly crying at the fucked out sight of him. "Gonna cum for me?" He manages, face flushed and jaw finally relaxing as his own releases creeps up on him. "O-only if you cum for me... in me, please!" He's done for, you're too much, he's a weak, weak man.

You feel the base of his cock swell, excitedly slamming your hips down before he can do it for you. Body trembling as your orgasm rocks you, the stretch of his knot being enough to push you past the brink.

"Thank you, oh fuck, thank you thank you..." you sob, hips grinding down into his lap as you fall into his chest. Valko's grip is still tight, chest heaving as the first wave of cum floods you. "You're so cute."

He manages, finally loosening his grip to hug you properly to his sweaty chest. The windows of the jeep are fogged, the air inside warmer than when you got in. "We're going to be here for a while." You mumble, wiggling slightly as the second wave of cum dumps into you.

"Ain't that what you wanted?" "Duh."

[kawaiikittenkawaiikitten]

Some Valko hurt/comfort cuz I can't write happy stuff lol it's 4am so this is not proof read in the slightest. Enjoy!

Please Don't Leave Me

You're still not quite sure how you got here. Your eyes feel raw and rough from crying. Your throat burns from screaming. Your hand still holds the phantom sting from when you slammed it on the table to emphasize a point.

Now you stand in the almost quiet bedroom watching your boyfriend pack another bag. The fight was over him leaving so much as it was and here he was packing like he wasn't coming back.

The business trip had taken him out of the country this time, it had been weeks since you'd actually gotten to speak to each other, the timezones being opposite. Then just as he was finally supposed to be home his family called with an emergency, another two weeks you couldn't see him. The texts, voice notes, and sporadic calls weren't enough for you. They never were if you were honest but at least he was always home within a week or so. Almost a month without him nearly drove you insane.

When he finally, finally, got home to you you voiced your displeasure. You probably could have waited until his shoes were off, his bag set down, his strong arms around you before you came in swinging but you were tired. Work and family always seemed to come before you and you felt unraveled. Once you started you couldn't stop.

Valko had stayed as calm as he could. Never raising his voice back, never getting in your personal space. He was big, dangerous, and learned a long time ago how to make himself less intimidating during an argument. But his ears pinned to his head and twitching tail betrayed his aggravation.

A slamming drawer brought you back to the present. To Valko emptying another drawer of his things as you stood there stupidly just watching him.

You kept telling yourself he was just leaving for the night to cool off even as he pulled his garment bag out and threw a couple of work suits into it.

He snatched his suitcase off the bed, throwing the garment bag over his shoulder. He didn't look at you as he brushed past. He couldn't. He knew if he took in your red rimmed eyes and blotchy face he'd lose his nerve. He'd just pull you into his embrace and let himself forget all the horrible things you'd screamed at him for the past couple of hours.

You flinched like his made of molten metal where he brushed your shoulder with his. You couldn't bring yourself to move even as you heard the door lock click on the silence surrounding you.

After what felt like eons you finally made your way to the front hall. His shoes and jacket were gone. The penthouse felt eerily empty. You spot a note in the key bowl and your heart stops. There was his copy of the house key. The note said he'd be back in a couple days to get the rest of his things and you could stay for as long as you needed to find a new place. But even that wasn't what stilled the breath in your lungs. It was his collar sitting under the note.

You'd bought it as a gift, a little bit of a joke. The black leather cord, not quite thick enough to look like a dog collar, with the gold tag hanging from it. One side has his nickname, the other an etching of a howling wolf. You'd nervously told him he didn't have to wear it when you presented it to him. His tail had been a blur as he'd held it in his hands. You didn't think he'd taken it off once in the six months since you'd given it to him.

Your hand unconsciously finds your matching collar around your neck. Soft brown leather with a rose gold tag, your own nickname on the back and lilies of the valley on the front. He'd had it made just days after receiving his. He was so excited to match you.

Fresh hot tears blur your vision. There was no way he was coming home again and it was your fault.

You woke up hours later feeling confused and exhausted. Was it all just a horrible dream? You reach out and find his side of the bed cold and empty. You sit up hugging your knees as you will the tears away. You can't though as a sob rips through you.

Heavy running footsteps reach the bedroom door as Valko throws the door open, his large frame blocking out most of the light from the hallway. He's by your side in an instant, sharp gold eyes checking every dark corner as his hands gently run over you looking for injuries.

"What happened baby? Are you alright? Did something happen?", he tries to keep his voice steady but the sight of you sobbing almost uncontrollably has every protective instinct in him screaming.

You cling to him, face buried in the crook of his neck. Something presses into your cheek. You pull back just enough to see his collar right where it should be.

"You left", you manage to squeak through your tears. "You left me."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just wanted a snack. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm here sweetheart, I'm right here." He pulls you close rubbing your back as he nuzzles your head.

"No! You left left! We had a fight and you left!" You knew you probably weren't making sense but the fear and grief still felt too real.

"It was just a bad dream, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I thought we finished that fight. I promised to be home more, remember? And when I can't be I'll do everything I can to bring you with me. The fight's over. I'm right here."

Your breathing finally slowed as the events of last night caught up to you. You had raised your voice but Valko had deescalated things almost immediately. Growing up in a large family meant he learned how to deal with big feelings. You'd managed to talk things out, expressed how you felt tossed aside when work or family issues came up. He'd listened and worked with you to find a solution.

"I'm sorry", you whimpered into his shoulder.

"Don't be sorry. Bad dreams happen. I know you hate confrontation so that probably gave you the bad dream." He kisses your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll work together when things get tough, just like we did earlier. We're in a "you're mine" kind of dynamic. So you're kinda stuck with me."

You smile despite your tears. You return his kiss with one on his cheek. You feel his shoulders finally relax.

"Come on, I was going to get some chocolate milk and I think you could use some too."

You nod, moving to get out of bed when he scoops you up in his huge arms. You can't help the giggle that escapes you as your boyfriend holds you close and safe as he carries you to the kitchen. With your head on his shoulder you finally feel the last of the adrenaline leave you. You're safe, he's here, and you're both not letting the other go.

[darlingyus]

“I miss you so much - I think I am actually going insane.”

Caleb’s voice sounds different through the phone, but it still conveys the same amount of sincerity as it always does. His tone is low and silvery when he talks, and it reminds you of the ocean; soft enough to caress you within its waves but rough enough in its tides to pull the air from your lungs.

Hearing his voice makes you miss him much more than you already do - which, truthfully, is saying a lot.

Although being away from your boyfriend while he’s out doing what he loves on the other side of the world is difficult, Caleb makes it seem as if the two of you will never see each other again.

“Caleb, it’s only been four days.”

“Yeah, four days too long. That’s 96 hours, 5760 minutes and 345600 seconds that I haven’t been able to kiss the love of my life. I’m dying here.”

You laugh, because you can practically hear him pouting adorably at the other end of the line.

“Stop laughing, I miss your laugh even more now,” he whines like a little child.

“Wait, it’s 12 here, does that mean it’s been five days since I’ve last seen you? That means it’s been 120 long hours since I—”

Caleb begins again, though his words are cut short by someone grumbling in the background, snatching his phone away from him. You only know the last bit of information because Caleb keeps asking the intruder what he’s going to do with his phone.

“Listen, I’m one millisecond from killing your boyfriend with my cold, bare hands,” Gideon’s annoyed voice filters through the speaker.

“I can’t sleep with him yapping in my ear, so tell him to stop, or God knows how many days, minutes and seconds it’ll be since you’ll see him again.”

And with that, Gideon ends the phone call.

[mwphisto]

“You’re burning up.”

It takes you a moment to peel your eyes open, sleep still clinging to every fiber of your being. You do feel warm, warmer than usual. But not the unbearable kind.

“M’don’t think so…” you slur softly, nuzzling closer into his equally burning frame. “You certainly are… I’m nearly sweating because of it, sweetie.” It perks you up the tiniest bit when you realize there is genuine concern in Sylus’ voice. He truly believes you’re sick, burning with a fever.

“I feel fine, s’just warm.” You blink, meeting his crimson gaze through the darkness of the bedroom and smiling softly. “You’re not used to being the cooler one, huh?” You knew from past experience that Sylus ran warm, super warm. But he had yet to feel you in your natural state.

“There is no way this is normal.” He states calmly, hand sliding under the covers to rest on your burning hot stomach. “Probably isn’t.” You snuggle closer to him, eyes fluttering shut as you settle in. “Especially if I’m hot to you.” But you felt fine, just toasty.

“I need to get a thermometer.” Laughter bubbles in your chest when you realize he still isn’t settling down, hand sliding towards your back as if gauging your varying temperatures. “Sy, baby. M’fine I swear…”

But the covers are being tossed off the both of you, a slight grumble rattling your chest as you cling to his warmth. “C’mon it’s like three in the morning, just sleep. When did you become such a mother hen?” Not that you didn’t find it oddly adorable. But you were genuinely fine!

You just ran absurdly hot sometimes. “When I’m concerned you’re coming down with some mystery illness.” He states, pressing his lips to your surprisingly cool forehead. “…or maybe you’re right.”

“See? S’just my super duper hot body…” you giggle, delirious with sleep as you feel him slowly settling into the mattress again, holding you tightly.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetie.”

[cherryscript]

valko is painfully clingy.

He might be the big bad wolf to the rest of the world, but with you he is the neediest, most shamelessly attached creature to ever exist. You want to be annoyed. You really do. And yet every single one of his habits somehow turns soft and golden in your chest until you’re melting all over again.

You’ll be sleeping on your back, dead to the world, when a huge arm suddenly slides between your thighs and scoops you backward in one smooth motion. You wake with a startled gasp—“Valko—”…—only to feel him already nuzzling the top of your head like an oversized dog who has finally found his favourite pillow. He hums low in his throat, still mostly asleep, and tightens his hold until you’re pressed flush against the furnace of his chest. His tail drapes heavily over both of you, a living blanket that refuses to let you drift even an inch away.

You’ll step out of the shower smelling like the new strawberry body wash you bought, and the second he catches the scent his whole face falls into a dramatic sulk. “Valko—” He huffs, crowds you from behind, and wraps those thick arms around your waist. A long, deliberate lick drags up the side of your neck. You flinch; he only presses closer, voice rough with quiet displeasure.

“You smell like strawberry and I don’t like that.” His teeth graze your pulse point, a gentle warning bite that makes your breath hitch. He stays there a moment, inhaling deeply, then sighs in pure satisfaction. “Mmhh… there. Smell like me again.” He pulls back with a bright, smug smile and walks away, tail wagging so hard it nearly knocks over the bathroom stool.

You’ll be cooking dinner, focused on the pan, when he materialises behind you without a sound. One second the kitchen is empty; the next his chest is warm against your back and his chin is heavy on your shoulder. He doesn’t ask. He just stays there, breathing you in, occasionally nosing under your jaw like he’s checking that you haven’t somehow slipped out of his orbit in the last three minutes. When you try to reach for the salt he simply tightens his arms and carries you two steps to the left so he doesn’t have to let go.

You’ll sit on the couch to answer a message and suddenly the entire sofa dips under his weight. Valko drapes himself over your lap like a living weighted blanket, head in the crook of your neck, one massive hand spanning your thigh. If you shift even slightly he makes a low, wounded sound and nuzzles harder until you give up and card your fingers through his hair. Only then does the unhappy rumble fade into contented silence.

You’ll try to leave the bed in the morning and his arm becomes an iron bar across your waist. Eyes still closed, he pulls you back under the covers, tucks your face against his throat, and murmurs, voice sleep-rough and utterly unapologetic,“Five more minutes… stays with me.” His tail curls around your calf like a soft, insistent chain. You know those five minutes will stretch into twenty, and somehow you never mind.

You’ll be reading on the floor and he’ll simply drop down beside you, roll onto his side, and drag you half on top of him so your head rests over his heart. Every time you turn a page he presses a lazy kiss to your hair, as if reminding the book that it is only borrowing you for a little while.

And every single time—when he steals you from sleep, when he rewrites your scent, when he refuses to let even a foot of space exist between you—you feel that same helpless, fond ache bloom behind your ribs.

He’s the big bad wolf. He’s also the clingiest, softest, most ridiculously devoted thing you’ve ever known. And somehow that combination is completely, devastatingly yours.

a/n : hello, it's been a while sobs i stand with my cancelled husband.

© CHERRYSCRIPT 2026 — don't copy translate feed my work to ai.

[thechaoticarchivist]

Paring: Sylus x Reader (One Shot) // A03 Rating: M Story Content Warning: blood, light gore, gun battle, images of death, they / them pronouns lightly used. Story Summary: The Captain was nearly as elusive as Sylus, himself. Everyone in the N109 Zone, in Onychinus, considered them the unofficial second in command. If Sylus wanted something done quickly and efficiently, he sent in the Captain and their crew. If he wanted to send a pointed message, he sent the Captain by themself. Word Count: 2,842 A/N: Would you believe me if I told you this one shot came to me after reading one of @/abyssby's family fics? Because it did - and it's completely opposite of it lmaooo. Please note the content warnings, this is not fluffy. I miss the mob boss / Onychinus side of things lately, so I wanted to play around with it some. Enjoy! (@humanitys-strongest-brat , since you asked to be tagged 💖)

It was the confident sound of boots on the stairs leading down toward the garage that had the new guy equal parts nervous and excited.

Finally. Finally he had made it. Worked his way from per diem informant to a proper solider of Onychinus. Finally would be able to see the Devil himself at work. In his eyes, Sylus was the closest thing you could get to a hero in a place like the N109 Zone.

Standing in the second row, he could just see around the two leads in front of him to the back of the twins' heads, which were facing the incoming sound. One reached down to pick up a chest harness, already loaded with matching Harrier 700s.

It looked…odd. It was not something that he would have associated with Sylus, but, not one to judge he put the thought at the back of his mind. Tonight was about proving himself. Tonight -

All that excitement drained away into a deep scowl as you walked through and up to the twins, smoothly taking the gun harness from them and strapping it around your torso with practiced ease.

It was then that you looked up to see his expression, grinned in a way that reminded him an awful lot of a predator ready to pounce.

"Well, damn, kid, don't look too disappointed now. First raid is a big moment."

Someone elbowed him in the ribs, and he still didn't fix his face.

You cocked your eyebrow in a way that reminded him an awful lot of the white haired man, which meant you probably spent a good amount of time around him. Even the twins moved as if you were someone worth respecting, but he just…couldn't bring himself to do it.

The words were out before another elbow could force them back down, "Who the hell are you? I was told I was doing a raid for Mr. Sylus -"

"You are." It was a statement punctuated by the slightest shift of everyone moving away from him, multiple eyes anywhere but on you.

"Mr. Sylus," you mimicked, "Wants this shipment of protocores here yesterday. That's why he's sending us in. We go, take out the Ghosts who dared to cross Sylus, with as little damage to the building as possible," you emphasized, giving a pointed look to the twins.

Your sharp eyes landed back on his auburn ones. "Then the Cleaners come while we return the goods to the correct warehouse."

"Cleaners?"

"Yeah - the Cleaners," someone next to him hissed. "Where you're going to end up if you keep mouthing off to The Captain of all people."

Fear licked up his spine. You had turned away, taking a sleek motorcycle helmet from the other twin, the three of you discussing something quickly, which allowed him time to glance at his new co-worker.

"That's the Captain?"

A firm nod had him quickly regretting his attitude.

Sure , he'd heard of the Captain. Everyone had. They were who everyone considered the unofficial second in command. If Sylus wanted something done quickly and efficiently, he sent in the Captain and their crew.

If he wanted to send a pointed message, he sent the Captain by themself.

He hissed a curse as you turned back toward the eleven men, giving quick orders.

"We'll split into two teams of six to cover both entries. No one makes it out. Intelligence says that the protocores are being kept on a basement floor, so we're going to have to sweep the uppers first to make sure we don't get gridlocked.

"Rhys and Morris, you're on truck duty. Toby'll be inside the truck just in case. Cami, Ash, and Morgan, you're on guard bikes. Six of you will set up near the back entrance in case anyone decides to run.

"Greenie, Jackson, and Eve, you're with me and the twins. We'll be going in through the front, headed to the top floor first."

It took him entirely too long to realize Greenie meant him. He went to correct you, but was silenced with a lift of your hand. "You earn your name after your first run, kid. For now, you're Greenie."

He shut his mouth again.

"Before we go, Morris, do you mind?"

The large man, Morris, gave a firm nod, and closed his eyes. Suddenly, there was a gentle press against Greenie's mind, one that nearly had him jumping back.

"Let Morris in, Greenie," you said calmly. "Just think of it like opening a door."

With a blink, he did. Or, tried to. Hesitantly, gradually, he allowed the slight pressure in, and the pain eased. With it, a voice that was not his own.

Connected?

Uh…what?

He's in, Cap. We're good.

Good? GOOD? WHAT'S GOOD?

Don't get your panties twisted, Greenie, it's just a telepathic connection. Harder to hack than a communication device. If you got Morris on the team, it's the preferred way to communicate.

…oh.

"Now get on your bike. We got a bit of a drive."

Greenie didn't talk during the drive over - through his mind or voice, although one probably could hear the squeak of his teeth from how hard his jaw clenched.

Another barrier. Another. And if he actually wanted in, he was going to have to impress you. Rumor on the street was that you had even lower of a humor threshold than Sylus.

He knew what to do though, as the vehicles parked about a quarter of a mile from the warehouse. The crickets and occasional chitters of nocturnal animals were louder than the rolling footsteps as the team slipped through careful shadows to the building.

It started fine - no resistance getting in, although Greenie noticed quickly that seemed to make you more tense than before. The six of you climbed up, and split three and three to clear the top floors, making quick work of the few Ghosts who seemed to be taking some sort of break instead of doing their job.

But it was getting to the basement that seemed to be an issue.

Luke had hacked the code box, but a secondary alarm had been triggered from it, and that is when the true fight began.

Bullets peppered the air, flashes from muzzles adding to the chaos. You and Greenie found yourself behind a concrete structural pillar, working hard to continue to push your way farther inside.

He knew, logically,he should be thinking about the very real issue of bullets and potential injuries, but his mind was splintering. First on how to still impress you - how this could be used to his advantage. The second was on how he, very much, did not want to die. And lastly, how you seemed to move one to two seconds ahead of the enemy, and would take them out with a headshot.

It was taking time -too much time - to individually snipe every one of them with a less-than-ideal gun made for it. What you needed to do was get to a better position that allowed you more sight-line.

Greenie grinned- an opportunity had finally arrived.

His evol, you see, was a very beneficial one for this particular situation. He could make energy based barriers that blocked anything. It was perfect. He could show you what he could do while protecting you. Simple, easy, foolproof.

You hissed as you ducked your head away from the edge, a bullet taking out a chuck of the concrete where your face had been moments before. The bullet embedded itself in a box, and you looked at it strangely.

"We need better sight," he said, only half taking in your confused expression. "I'll make a barrier and get us over to that nook to the left. You'll have to wait to shoot until we're over there - works both ways, unfortunately."

"Wait -"

"It'll be fast if we run. Ready?"

"Wait!"

But Greenie was already moving, a too proud smirk on his face as he raised his hand in front of him, and a shimmer of a barrier appeared.

And then he grunted as your weight slammed hard into him, knocking him off balance. You grabbed the back of his jacket, hauling him with you to the new location as a white hot pain seared through his hand.

Looking down, he saw a perfectly round hole through his palm.

And then he screamed.

Your hand shot out and covered his mouth, muffling it, but his panic only worsened with the sudden lack of oxygen going to his head.

"Shut up!" you hissed, before standing up and taking out the final group still shooting at you with three more shots.

Then you dropped back down, pulling a small amount of medical supplies from your pants' many pockets.

Gods, what was it the doctor said? Bullet wounds, pack and wrap until you get back. First aide wasn't your best skill, but you could at least do that.

You moved quick, but the new kid was still panicking before you. Without hesitation, once the gauze was secure, you reached into a different pocket for a sour candy, unwrapped it, and shoved it in his mouth.

He choked - gagged, and this his eyes were on you, properly focused.

"What…how - nothing's ever gotten through before."

"Anti-matter bullets. There've been rumors they were being sold to some of our competitors, but we had yet to see them."

"How did you know?"

You blinked at him, flashed him a weak grin. "Sixth sense, I guess. Can you stand?"

He nodded briefly, letting you pull him up by his arm. Both of you listened for any sound. It was an uneasy silence for a few moments.

Report.

Floor's clear, Cap.

Basement, too. Found the protocores.

Luke and I are loading them into the freight elevator now. Morris, bring the truck around to the docking station.

On it.

Morris or Rhys - one of you gotta switch with the newbie. He won't be able to drive back with his hand like this.

There was a mental groan, before an agreement of rock-paper-scissors to settle who'd have to ride the kid's bike back.

Rhys lost.

The group's return was no louder than it was leaving. A job was a job, as far as they were concerned.

Greenie, still in shell shock, was brought back to the medics that stayed at the base. You were pretty sure one of them on staff tonight had a healing evol. You hoped so at least.

Once confirming, again, with the warehouse everything was accounted for, and all the vehicles had returned to their proper parking locations, you headed inside to begin your own post-heist ritual.

The armory had a large countertop that came out about waist high about a foot or so. Dark cabinets supported it, filled with all sorts of things one may need when it came to handling the variety of guns on the wall, but the one you needed, that you stood comfortably in front of, was the cleaning materials.

Carefully, almost delicately, you freed your Harriers and unloaded them. And then quickly and efficiently, you took the guns apart and started to clean.

It was a task to easily lose yourself in. Habitual. Consistent. Meditative. In your mind's eye, you reviewed the new information you learned tonight, and reminded yourself that you still had the shells of those antimatter bullets in one of your pockets. You needed to pass them along to Sylus.

The guns clicked back together easily enough, and then you reached up to place them both in their designated slots on the wall. As soon as your hands moved away, the lights went out, and the dim red emergency ones popped on.

Your heartbeat pounded too loudly in your ears as you stepped forward again, reaching for your guns, but they were missing.

You blinked. How were they missing?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Footsteps pounded heavily down the empty hallways and up the stairs to the first floor, but you were only met with silence as you popped through the door.

You shouted for Luke and Kieran. Shouted for Rhys. Ash. Jackson.

No one answered, and as you turned a corner into the main hall, you could see why.

All were dead. Every one. Blood still seeped out of their still warm bodies - this was recent. Panic now flooded your brain as you turned toward the grand staircase to the next floor.

Eyes snagged on a hand wrapped in fresh gauze.

Greenie. Hell, you hadn't even learned his name yet. Soon? This happens this soon?

Bounding up the stairs two at a time you shouted for Sylus. He wouldn't let his own people die in his home without a fight - where was he?

Skidding around another corner to where your boss' office was, you didn't see the large man that you plowed into coming from the room.

Stumbling back a few steps, shaking from adrenaline, you looked up into very familiar unnaturally blue eyes.

"You -" was all you managed, before a hand raised and a trigger was pulled with a startling BANG.

The gasp that came from you as you violently sat up startled both Luke and Kieran from where they were waiting by your side, one with headache medication and the other with some water.

"There you are, Cap. You alright?"

Taking the medication first, you nodded and then shook your head.

"How long - how long was I out this time?"

"Uh…well, we found you about ten minutes ago just…staring at your guns with those creepy milky eyes…," Luke started.

Kieran continued, "And we did what you taught us, and moved you to the floor so you didn't fall on your own trying to do something."

With a nod, you took another sip of water. Okay, think. Think Captain, think. Where is Sylus right now? Did he have a scheduled meeting with -

"You're up."

Blinking slowly, you looked up into the narrowed, carmine eyes of your boss. He leaned effortlessly against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched you. "What did you see?"

Sylus had been the first one to believe in your visions. The first to realize it was less a gift of prophecy and an actual Evol you could control…mostly.

He, Luke, and Kieran worked tirelessly with you to hone that skill into something useful in a fire fight, and now you could consistently maintain it around thirty minutes or so, seeing two to three seconds into the future.

And as long as the person had fully decided what action they would take next, you also knew what it would be. Which made you one hell of a shot.

The problem was the other visions you had. Ones you couldn't control. They were snippets, often ones you had to quickly assess and figure out where you were and what was happening before you were launched back into your present self. Often on the floor from tripping or falling backward, which is why you had trained the twins to lay you down if they found you.

Those visions didn't happen often, but they were never wrong. There was no way to prevent them - you had tried often on your own before joining Onychinus, and failed every time.

Most were painful in some form or fashion, but none had ever been this devastating. Shakes took over your frame at the memory.

Sylus didn't ask the question again. He waited, quietly, as you worked through putting it all together. He knew that these were harder for you to navigate, usually, and took time for you to settle into reality once more.

"Giovanni. He - I dunno how, but he's going to kill everyone, Sylus. In here - in the base."

Grey brows furrowed.

"Look, I already know what you're about to say, but that's what I saw. Everyone's dead - the new kid, his hand was still bandaged, and I dunno how soon that makes this vision. And wait - look."

You dug into your pocket to pull free the blasted shells from the bullets you had taken. Kieran took them from you, and passed them to Sylus. "They have antimatter bullets, Sy. I dunno how, and we didn't find any outside of the weapons they had on them. But -"

Sylus raised a hand to silence you as he studied the fragments closely.

"You know how I feel about fate being a fixed thing."

"Okay, but -"

A sharp look had you clamping your jaw shut.

"You were alone, those other times. Now you have us. And we have you. Which means we know who and where, and we can prepare for the when."

A nod, and then another shaky drink of water. "Okay."

Sylus' buzzing phone broke the silence next, and he answered it on speaker. "What?"

"There's a Mr. Giovanni at the door? Says he got a meeting, but I don't see it on your schedule."

Darkening embers met your eyes. "Tell him I have no time for unannounced visits. If he wants a meeting, schedule it."

With a click, the call ended.

"Well…I think now we know the when."

©2026 thechaoticarchivist I do not give permission to repost, modify, translate, or feed my work to AI. Sylus Master List

[abyssyby]

my heart is still racing no freakin WAY!!! i LOVE THISSBSN

[abyssyby]

pulled out from a private auction to discuss eoncore trades with onychinus, valko was not prepared to meet the infamous sylus with two toddlers clinging to his pant legs.

they’d done dealings before, and are on relatively good terms— the standard being: having had no major war between their factions and men— but he cannot still understand the inner workings of his business partner.

because when sylus leaves the room to answer a phone call, he wonders why in this planet would he leave his two children, vulnerable and defenseless, alone with a stranger.

valko worries for the children’s safety. especially this one named lucian, who balances himself on the edge of the seat’s headrest.

“you’ll fall.” he states, because it is a fact.

“no, won’t.” the sharply dressed little one replies just as assuredly. his new suit squeaks and threads strain under the unusual movements.

the other one, identical in features but not in behavior, sits on the very seat just below his brother. if lucian falls, lucian-two will be squished.

he is used to this, he tells himself.

watching pups in the pack play rough never bothered him, as it is a natural part of growth. essential for development. necessary for success. he used to believe that other children would benefit from the way a wolf is raised.

and yet, here he is at the edge of his seat— nails digging into the poor armrests as lucian wavers and wobbles on the beam, threatening the false sense of safety of his twin, who would not speak to him, and most definitely would not appreciate him moving him.

ready to leap and catch, should a wrong step emerge victorious.

even if he were to fall, valko should think not to worry.

as these ones smell different.

milk, blueberries, sweet cereal and cream. but beneath, fire and smoke, a distant field, a buried memory.

surely, they would be like their father. formidable, indestructible. too large to touch, too mythical to fathom.

the twin blinks sleepily at him. still refusing to speak. head lolling forward, out of his control.

surely…

“ah!” lucian’s foot slips. valko lurches.

lucian is snatched from his momentary free fall, and cradled into safe arms.

valko’s tongue knows no cage. “told you.”

lucian’s knows no manners, but sticks his tongue out at him cheekily. “bleh!”

valko tilts his head. amused.

“woosian,” finally, his twin speaks. peeking over the edge of the armrest to look at them. “be nice.”

“am nice!” lucian protests. in support valko grins and tickles his belly.

“he is.”

the little one gasps when he is acknowledged and bends his head back down to hide away.

“come on, little hatchling, i don’t bite.” valko says, placing lucian on his shoulder and leaning over to kyros slowly. “my name is valko.”

he places a finger on the upholstery, an olive branch.

the little one shifts on his knees and stares at the bejeweled hand— big, strong but not unsettling. slowly, he emerges and places his own fingers around it and shakes. “i kee-wo.”

“keewo?” valko’s chest blooms at the first sign of trust. something ancient and instinctive stirring in him that tells him now he must protect.

“no, kee-wo!”

“kee-ro?” valko tries again.

confirmation never comes.

“why have eews?” kyros asks instead. now having broken the wall, he begins to quickly forget he was even shy in the first place. he hovers his hands over his own head, where he sees the faint glow of phantom ears on this stranger’s head. “vakoo, why have eews?”

“you can see them?” he should worry. but he smiles broadly, fangs glimmering in delight. he made sure to use most of his active efforts to hide his true form when in public. and up until this point, he believed that he had a pretty good talent at looking unremarkable.

“ee-yors?” lucian scrambles in his arms, climbing a sturdy shoulder to get a closer look. “where, ee-yors?”

“mhm,” kyros stands on the chair now. he swishes his hips in a cute wiggle to visualize, “and taiw— wish wish.”

“like fox?!” lucian climbs and crawls over his new friend as if he were magnetic.

“hey!” valko yelps when the little ones circle him. one inspecting his tail closely while the other desperately tries to find it. “slow down! careful!”

he pauses his shuffling to watch kyros sniffing him. so… wolf-like and yet not.

intrigued, he asks. “what do you got?”

kyros sniffs the air in small snorts— like he’s congested but taking everything in still. “woofy.”

valko’s eyes widen at the simple conclusion. brows pinching, he thinks: these children are definitely different.

“ah! gotcha!” lucian squeals when he finally spots the faint glimmer of his tail. in an instant, the once hatchling transforms into a kitten, chasing a tail that refuses to be caught.

valko, contrary to the look on his face, revels in the discovery of other creatures that lurk in the dark. and that these very creatures, so different and yet so similar, can also thrive in the light.

he doesn’t know of the little ones’ evols, nor does he understand how they can see him as he truly is.

but the longer lucian lingers and scrambles to catch his tail or pet his ears— the more kyros sinks into the comfort of his presence and beams at the joy of his interactions; glows with a golden mist that brings clarity to illusion— the more certain small horns and wings begin to take form in their silhouettes.

and he understands now, that their father never left them defenseless in the first place.

[kurapikapikachuu]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ come pick me up?

lads boys 🍎 ⛄ ⭐ 🐦‍⬛ 🐠 🐺: when you get in a fight and need to be picked up

ꨄ︎ lads masterlist ꨄ︎ buy me matcha ꨄ︎

chuu's note: requested ! this was super fun haha I based Caleb's on one of his in game texts (if ppl were confused idkkkk)

Caleb

Zayne

Xavier

Sylus

Rafayel

Valko

© kurapikapikachuu | Please do not feed any of my work into AI. Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3 lots of love, chuu!

my ao3 & ko-fi !!!

[zaynezone]

When you see Greyson and Yvonne huddled by the desk and casting nervous glances at Zayne's door, you know something's up.

"What's wrong?" You question, making the two of them jump. They're only a little surprised to see you. After all, you're here quite often.

"Dr. Zayne is stressed. He's been very..." Greyson trails off, probably not wanting to offend you by insulting his boss and your boyfriend in front of your face. You lean forward, peering through the window of his office.

Sure enough, he looks as mad as that time his dessert delivery got stolen.

"Maybe you should come back later. When he's cooled down." Yvonne suggests lightly. You ponder it for a moment, but then shrug.

"I'm sure he'll be fine! Just wait and see." You grin, knocking on Zayne's door before letting yourself in.

When icy cold eyes meet yours, you stop in your tracks. Perhaps you'd misjudged your effect on Zayne?

But then he blinks, and it vanishes.

"Hi. I wasn't expecting you until later." He's already standing, the trace of a smile appearing on his face as he moves to kiss you in greeting. It's a chaste peck on the cheek, but still as sweet as always.

Plus, you manage to catch a glimpse of two very surprised faces through the blinds.

"I thought it would be nice to surprise you! And it seems like I came at a pretty good time, hm?" He seems to catch on, looking away awkwardly as he adjusts his tie.

"I'm glad to see you. As are my cortisol levels. Though for the full effects to take place...prolonged exposure is required."

"Well, if those are the doctors orders, who am I to disagree?"

[starkissedxav]

anything 4 u

synopsis: the three times caleb almost confesses to you, and the time he finally breaks. 6.7k words

warning/tags: nonmc!reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, somewhat suggestive, implied f!reader (reader is referred to as girl/girlfriend), mentions of shitty ex bfs, they're both kinda stupid, yearning, mentions of alcohol/drinking (tequila is so dangerous i love it)

a/n: hi hi! this song is so caleb coded I had to write something for him,, I hope this isn't too ooc for him I’m still getting the hang of characterization, sorry in advance :P let me know what you guys think !!!

Caleb realizes his feelings for you in middle school, giggling as the two of you were walking home from school, kicking a rock down the street. Your hands brush against one another like they usually do, and he naturally loops his pinky with yours.

“Do you know Sebastian? I have him in third period,” you ask, Caleb nods urging you to continue. “Do you think he likes me? He’s so cute and-”

Caleb's mind short circuits, you think another boy is cute? He doesn't process anything you say, ears ringing and eyes focusing on the concrete beneath his feet. A pit grows in his stomach and bitter feelings grow in his chest. Why is he suddenly angry? Upset?

“So? Do you think that means he likes me?” You ask again, Caleb just shrugs his shoulders.

“Dunno, seems like he flirts with a lot of girls,” he mumbles, “don’t you think you should like someone you know? Someone you actually trust and stuff like that?” You furrow your brows at him.

“We talk everyday, I know him pretty well,” your annoyance is obvious, unlinking your pinky with his you shove your hands in your hoodie pocket. “Katy thinks he’s gonna ask me out, I'm gonna say yes if he does. I overheard one of his friends say something about a bouquet of flowers.”

Caleb wants to throw up, how could you like someone like Sebastian who acts like a moron and not him? He fights the urge to tell you that, instead he opts for “cool I guess, maybe I should get a girlfriend soon.” His hands are balled into fists, knuckles white. 

You feel a pang in your chest, ignoring it as you fight the urge to link your pinky with his again. 

Sebastian doesn’t ask you out the next day, Caleb feels guilty for feeling relieved. You don’t say anything as the two of you walk home together, the sunset seems to make the pout on your lips more prominent. 

Caleb gets home and asks gran to sell some of his model planes, taking the petty cash and walking to the nearest florist. “I’ll take the prettiest flowers that I can buy please,” he says, handing over the cash. The florist can’t help but smile at the sight of him, his chubby cheeks flushed from the heat outside and ears red from embarrassment. 

“Someone special?” The florist asks, Caleb nods. 

He gives you the flowers the next day, his heart skipping a beat when you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “Caleb, you’re the best! Who needs stupid Sebastian when I have you.” The words settled nicely in his chest, worming their way into his heart as he tried to keep his composure. 

“You can always count on me.” You can date me, he almost says, biting his tongue when fear whispers in his ear. Would you even want him?

The second time Caleb almost confesses his feelings to you is senior year of high school late at night. 

“Hello Ms. Josephine, sorry for barging in so late, is Caleb home?” he hears your voice as you open the front door. This was practically your second home, never even bothering to knock or using the key gran had given you. 

“He’s upstairs in his room, everything okay?” she asks, you give her a tight smile, nodding meekly before excusing yourself to Caleb's room. He hears your familiar knock, telling you to come in. 

“I hate his guts,” you stormed in,  causing Caleb to scramble out of bed to calm you down, eyes raking over your figure before letting himself relax a bit.

“what happened? what’s going on?” your eyes watered as you laughed dryly, waving your hands manically as you spoke.

“First he tells me he’s fine with waiting and the next he’s trying to feel me up at a drive-in movie theatre,” you throw yourself face down onto Caleb's bed, the same mattress you used to have pillow fights on when you were younger. “How could I be so stupid to think he would want anything but sex?” you groan, fighting back a sob that threatens to come out. 

“He did what?” Caleb sees red, his hands shaking and evol causing the model planes and comic books on his shelves to lift slowly. Just you having a boyfriend was driving him up a wall, and he has the gall to do this to you? He was going to kill him. His train of thought is interrupted when you speak up, voice softer than before, more vulnerable.

“It’s fine, I broke up with him,” you add on, sitting up and placing your hand over his, “can we just forget about him, please?” your watery eyes look up at him, his heart clenches. The floating items land with a soft ‘thud’ as Caleb wraps you in his arms. 

“He never deserved you, y’know?” he whispers, placing a feathery kiss atop your head. 

“Thought he was a good guy” you shrugged, “what if I never find anyone for me? What if no one waits for me?” your bottom lip quivers. 

“You will always have me, you know that right?” Caleb feels his heart pounding in his chest, amethyst eyes searching yours, please read between the lines, please realize what I mean. “I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.”

“I know, you'll always be my best friend” you smile, the word ‘best friend’ feels bitter on your tongue, but he wouldn't see you in that light, he never has. Would you wait for me? You can't help but wonder, eyes lingering on his lips for a second too long. The air feels thicker between you. 

I’d treat you how you deserve, he bites his tongue. “Wanna get some ice cream and watch some movies?” your eyes light up at the suggestion, throwing your arms around him and hugging tightly. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach when Caleb chuckles next to your ear. Caleb tries to calm his pounding heart, disregarding the jolt of electricity he feels when your skin touches his. 

“You're the best Caleb!”

Your ex’s shitty car had its windows broken and tires slashed a week later, no one knew who did it. You had a sneaking suspicion on the culprit when you brought it up to Caleb. He innocently turned his head to the side and tried his best to act clueless. Your heart stuttered, fighting a smile off your face.

The third time Caleb almost admits his feelings is during Christmas break your junior year of college. It had been quite some time since he had seen you, with him being gone at the DAA every time you'd come to visit, he'd spent last Christmas with MC and gran while you and your family spent it with other relatives out of town. 

“Caleb! MC!” your familiar voice makes Caleb's head whip around, a bright smile on his face the second you come into view. 

“Y/N!” MC squeals, pushing the bouquet of flowers into Caleb's arms and running to body slam you into a hug. You stumble back at the force of her hug, setting your suitcase case down and wrapping your arms around the shorter girl. “I missed you so much I have so much to catch you up on!” the younger girl begins, beaming up at you as you ruffle her hair slightly. 

“Hey y/n,” Caleb smiles, face flushed as he hands you the rather large bouquet of flowers, “for you, uh, we both chose them.” You can't help but blush at the sight of Caleb handing you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. 

“Caleb chose them out, he just doesn't want all the credit,” mc whispers, your blush deepens at her words. 

“Thank you,” Caleb stares at you for a second, taking in the way you've changed since he'd last seen you in person. Your hair was a bit longer than before, noting the new ear piercing you got. You looked more mature now, the bags under your eyes seemed more prominent than ever before.  

“Should we head home? I made your favorite,” he breaks the silence, taking your suitcase from your hands, urging you to give him your backpack as well. “I'm a pilot y’know, I can handle it on my own,” he teases when you try to protest, smiling when you roll your eyes at him and hand him your things. 

“You’re a lot taller now,” you say, walking next to him as MC walked ahead of you two, trying to figure out where they'd parked the car. You could remember being taller than the brave, chubby kid in elementary, now you only reached his shoulders. He had grown up nicely, his features complimenting each other beautifully, and his voice was deeper than you ever remembered it being. 

“Can’t make fun of me anymore can ya?” he nudges you with his elbow. You smile up at him, smacking his arm softly, “just cause you're taller than me doesn't mean anything.” You can't help but take in how broad his shoulders were, how big his arms had gotten and how firm the muscles you lightly hit were. 

Christmas Eve was spent together, with MC and Caleb sauntering into your childhood home to have dinner with your family. 

“So you still haven't gotten a boyfriend?” your mom asks you, your face burns, glancing at Caleb and finding him already staring at you intently. 

“Mom!” you groan, chuckling awkwardly, “but no, none.” you look back at caleb after you reply, did his lips twitch upward? Were you imagining things? Maybe spiked eggnog wasn't the way to go tonight. 

“What about classes? Straight A’s as always right? Y’know we can't wait to see the great things you're gonna do.” Your dads words make your face pale, a small chuckle leaving your lips, unsure how to respond. 

Caleb immediately picks up on your body language, “Those classes seem intense, I'm sure I might've flunked out if I was taking them,” he speaks up, tapping his foot against yours, his eyes soften when they meet yours. 

“How is the academy Caleb? You're all but graduated aren't you?” your dad asks, Caleb sits up a bit straighter as he nods. 

“Yup, I'll be graduating in the spring,” he grins, a charming smile that has your stomach flipping as you focus on your fork. When did he get so attractive? He was your best friend, he would never see you in that light.  

“I’m shocked a young man like you doesn't have girls flocking to him, especially as a handsome pilot,” your mom teases, your dad nodding along before adding, “Oh I’m sure he does, he just doesn't wanna share.” 

MC stifles her laughter, Caleb elbowing her with a scowl. “I dont focus on that much, just wanna get my education and be a good pilot,” his face is completely red. Your parents teased him like this before, so why is it so weird now? 

The uneasiness in your chest grows, your stomach churning as you imagined Caleb flirting with girls, kissing other girls. Oh god, had he already-

“y/n did you see that show you love is getting renewed for a new season?” MC’s voice pulls you from your thoughts before you can spiral further. A small smile on your face as you try and focus on getting through dinner. 

Caleb finds you in the kitchen after dinner, quietly putting freshly washed plates on the drying rack. Wordlessly he grabs a towel, drying them and putting them in their respective spots. “You okay?” 

The words make you bite your bottom lip, trying to keep your breathing even as you nod. “Fine,” you breathe out, trying to blink away the tears before he can notice. It was a lost cause, Caleb seemed to be more in tune with you than anyone ever was. “Can we get out of here? I know it's about to be Christmas and its snowing but-” 

“Where should we go?” he cuts you off, already taking the plate from your hands and setting it down. “Grab your coat, I'll wait for you by the back door.”

The cold air was refreshing against your flushed cheeks, whether it be from the rush of emotions or from how warm the house was. “You wanna talk about it?” Caleb's voice is soft, eyes lingering on you. He watches the way you fiddle with your fingers, picking at a hangnail.

You're too caught up in your thoughts, stepping on a patch of ice and slipping, the familiar feeling of feeling both weightless and weighed down catches you before you can react. The air around you distorts slightly as you're lifted and placed on plush snow. “Still clumsy as ever,” Caleb chuckles softly, an arm wrapping around your waist as he leads you towards a set of swings. 

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ face burning. “Remember when we would sneak out to come swing here?” you say, a smile on your face as you turn to the taller boy, he's already staring at you. 

“All the time,” he breathes out, snowflakes landing gently on his bangs.

There's a beat of silence, you bite your bottom lip. “I have to drop a class. I'm gonna have to retake it in the summer.” Your voice is shaky, he can see how rapidly your chest rises and falls. “I don't know what to do, I feel like a failure,” your voice breaks. 

“Hey it's okay,” Caleb is kneeling in front of you in seconds, wiping your tears with his calloused thumb before they can fall. “It's one class, everyone drops one class, hell I know people who've dropped all their classes.” He offers you a small smile, “they give you drops because they know things like this happen, you aren't any less smarter because of this. Matter of fact you're going to come out better because of this.”

Your glossy eyes finally look at him, lilac ones shining under the moonlight and snowfall. “What if this keeps me back? What if I'm not meant to achieve my goals? What if I'll never be good enough?” You frown. 

Caleb stands, wrapping you in his arms as you sob into his chest. He's rubbing your back to comfort you, holding you tightly, afraid you'd run away from him. The silence blankets the two of you, wind whistling around you as the snow continues to gently blanket the world. When you finally calm down you don't bother pulling away, listening to Caleb's heartbeat to ground yourself. The steady thump brings you back, comforting you. 

“If anyone is destined to achieve their goals, it's you, sweet girl,” the pet name makes your stomach flip, "you're so hard working, so resilient and everything good in the world. You'll get through this, I'll help you with anything you need.” Caleb's words ease your mind, maybe it isn't the end of the world. “If you wanna run away, say the words, I'll pack our things and we can leave, I'll sell my models and everything I own and we can get away from here.” He mumbles, you smile into his chest. 

“You’d sell your model planes for me?” you tease, pulling back slightly to stare up at him. Caleb fights the urge to bend down and kiss you. 

“I’d sleep in grans car if it meant seeing you happy,” he whispers, you can see his breath in the cold air, the words hanging heavy between the two of you. I love you, don't you notice it? Has it become too familiar? Will you ever see?

I love you, you bite the words back, "You're the best Caleb,” you say instead, hugging him tightly. You feel him deflate slightly, you squeeze him a little tighter. You want to say the three words, you want to pour your heart to him. I don't date because I can only think of you, no one compares to you, I only want you. I love you. 

Too afraid to lose what you have, you stay quiet. You loop your pinky with his as the two of you walk back home, soft giggles filling the cold air. How could you sacrifice something so familiar for the unknown? Would you ever be brave enough?

“Merry christmas by the way,” you smile, pressing a soft kiss to his flushed cheek. Caleb freezes, a bright smile on his face as he turns to you, “Merry christmas y/n.” He presses his lips gently against your cheek, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach and the electricity on his lips. 

One day he’ll come clean, for now, he’ll cherish what the two of you have. 

The day Caleb finally breaks is at your brand new  apartment, you’re practically glowing as you show him around your tiny one bed-one bath, sparsely decorated and boxes strewn around. It had been a couple months since you were aware of his return to the land of the living and you had finally adjusted to having him back.

“I blow up once and suddenly you’re a full fledged adult,” he teases, sitting on your surprisingly comfortable sofa. “You don’t need me around anymore do ya?”

You pout at his words, “shut up, plus after my last roommate I just can’t live with anyone else anymore.” Caleb cringes at the mention of your last roommate.

“I wish I told you I was back sooner, could've paid for you to break your lease and leave that purgatory,” he mumbles. You take a seat next to him, turning your body to face him after flicking the tv on. 

“I do wish you guys would've told me sooner, but I wouldn't have taken your money anyway,” Caleb stares at you with a furrow in his brows, you laugh softly. “What? I’d feel so bad taking your money and I wouldn't wanna bother you with that.” 

He was gone for a year and you think you're a bother to him now? 

“You're never a bother, you haven’t been my whole life and you never will be.” The serious tone in his voice makes you sit up a bit straighter, eyes focusing on your carpet before clearing your throat. “Plus I’m a colonel now, so if anything I could've just used that to make them do whatever I wanted.” 

You can't help but laugh at his words, “Colonel, are you admitting to misuse of power?” you gasp. Caleb laughs, “what are you gonna do about it, sweet girl?” Your heart stutters at his words, face burning as your eyes travel to his lips. 

No, you just got him back, you can't lose him again. 

“Should we celebrate my new home?” you pull yourself away, getting up and pulling a bottle of tequila from a brown bag, “one of my friends gave it to me yesterday when we hung out.”

Before Caleb could even reply you were holding a shot glass in front of him, "C'mon! You still owe me a drink for my college graduation.” Caleb wants to say no, too afraid that he’d blurt out how he felt about you and ruin your friendship. But the look in your eyes has him weak at the knees as he takes the shot glass from your hand.

One shot turns to three, and not soon after you’d lost track of how many shots the two of you had. You're clinging onto Caleb as you both sing off key to whatever song is playing on your tv, bursting into a fit of giggles when your voice cracks.

“D’you ever think about how long we’ve known each other?” The question catches Caleb’s inebriated brain off guard. You're reaching for the remote, lowering the volume of your music and staring into Caleb’s eyes.

“long time,” he breathes out, trying to keep his thoughts straight. his mind working overtime to say only what he has to, not what he wants to.

“mmhm” you mumble, you study his features, he looks more mature now. handsome. but he was your friend, your best friend, he didn’t think of you that way. “You remember when I dated that guy sophomore year in high school? I was so torn up over him all that summer,” you laughed.

“You practically lived on our couch, I’m pretty sure you left an imprint on my bedroom floor from how long you laid on it.” Caleb had a soft smile on his face. He remembers that summer vividly, your boyfriend broke up with you under the premise of ‘needing to work on himself’ only to pop up with the girl he said meant nothing to him two weeks later. You spent almost every night at their house, the three of you watching movies together and after MC would go to sleep you'd stay up talking to Caleb about anything and everything. 

“Honestly? I’m kinda scared no one will ever love me for me,” you whispered one night, the fairy lights you'd put up were dim, their batteries almost dead. Caleb turned to you from his spot on his bean bag, mouth agape. He could barely make out your features, you were staring at the ceiling, biting your bottom lip and nervously playing with the edge of the blanket you were using. 

“I would,” he breathes out,  when you don't react he assumes you hadn't heard him. “There’s no way someone doesn't fall in love with you,” he said louder that time, you turned to him and smiled. 

“Remember when we snuck out in middle school to try and run away?” Caleb asks, the memory making him smile when your eyes go wide as you laugh.

“Oh my god! I packed like four shirts and thought I was good to go” you recall, caleb can’t help but join you in laughing. “What were we even mad about?” you ask, only remembering asking Caleb if he would run away with you, he had immediately agreed.

“We set a meet up point and everything didn’t we? Only made it a couple miles away before we got hungry and gave up,” Caleb chuckled at the memory. The sound made your stomach twist, vision focusing on the slope of his nose and curve of his lips. His face was flushed from the alcohol and you couldn’t help but think of how pretty he looked.

Silence settles between the two of you for a moment. Caleb is the first to break it.

“Any boyfriends?” you shake your head.

“Any girlfriends?” he shakes his head.

“You’re lying,” you gasp, “there’s no way you haven’t had a girlfriend!”

Caleb’s face burns at your words, “is it so hard to believe?” he laughs softly and you can’t help but smack his chest, noting how firm the muscles there felt.

“Yes! I know for a fact that the girls were drooling and throwing themselves at you!” you accuse, eyes narrowing playfully at him.

“Who told you that? MC?”

“Does it matter? You can't tell me you haven't had anyone in your life since high school.” You press, words slightly slurred. I hope you haven’t. 

“None,” he shrugs, watching as you pour another shot for the two of you. “I could say the same for you, I don't believe you didn't have a boyfriend in uni.”

“Boyfriend no, situationships yeah,” you laughed. “I could never really see myself with any of them,” you shrug, carefully placing the shot in front of Caleb. “Should we play a drinking game? One of the girls at work gave me this card game. She said it's great for friends and like getting closer,” you ramble, stumbling as you walk over to a box. 

The first couple cards are easy, surface level questions that make the two of you smile. The more you played the more intense the cards seemed to get. The two of you have no problem speaking freely, never having kept much from the other your entire life anyway. Save for the feelings you had both been harboring, unbeknownst to the other. 

“Okay my turn,” you grab a red card and flip it over. 

Admit something. 

“L-Let me pull another one, that one's dumb,” you stutter,  heart pounding against your ribs. Caleb uses his evol immediately, drunken giggles leaving his lips as you fight to stop him. “Caleb no!” you squeal, diving across the couch and tackling his torso. 

“Admit something? What’re ya hiding from me?” The teasing lilt in his voice makes your stomach warm, blood rushing to your face. You immediately let go of him, trying to put distance between the two of you. 

“None of your business,” you shoot back, crossing your arms and reaching for another card. Caleb’s larger hand grabs your wrist before you pull another card, your breath catches in your throat. 

Caleb’s eyes catch yours. He feels his heart grow, his gaze softens as he takes in your appearance, domestic and soft around the edges. It feels like before, it feels nice. It feels like home. 

Neither of you dares to break eye contact, even less do you dare to speak up. The tension grows thicker by the second, your eyes flicker to his lips. His eyes catch your gaze, copying your movements, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

The fun thing about tequila shots is how they catch up on you, biting you in the ass after thinking it wouldn't be so bad, one more wouldn’t hurt right?

Both of you are hit with the final wave of alcohol at the same time, years of restraint are thrown out the window. You clench your fists against the blanket over your legs, leaning towards Caleb tentatively. 

“C’mon don't be lame, sweet girl,” he practically purrs, eyes hooded as he stares at your lips, breathing growing faster as you move even closer. You open your mouth, closing it quickly before turning away. 

“I heard you,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “that night in high school, when you said you'd love me for me.” You turn to face him, the tequila working overtime in your veins to give you the courage to continue. “Did you mean that?” 

Caleb’s fingernails dig into the palm of his hands, knuckles white as he physically stops himself from closing the gap between you two. “Of course I did.”

“Like romantical?” you don't have it in you to cringe at your words, too focused on trying to sober up and face the weight of the moment. Caleb grins widely, a small giggle leaving his lips. 

“It has always been romantical for me,” he hums, moving closer to you, testing to see how close you’d let him get to you. 

“Right,” you mutter, a second passes before you speak again, mouth dry, “same.” Your faces are only inches apart. He likes you, he just admitted he likes you. You just admitted you liked him. The boundary you’d set for yourself was broken, there was no going back. So why not go all the way?

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, leaning forward, Caleb can smell the alcohol on you, he knows he isn't any better. 

“You can do anything you want to me,” he replies instantly.

You don't let yourself hesitate,  eyes fluttering shut as your lips crash into his. Your head spins as your mouths move in sync, not bothering to hide the whimper that leaves your lips when he bites down gently on your bottom lip. You pull away breathless, eyes wide as you stare at him. His amethyst eyes are darker than normal, pupils blown wide as he looks back at you. 

“Wh-” you cut him off with your lips on his again, more intense this time, the gate of emotions you’d previously kept at bay flooded out. You waste no time in moving your body to be on top of him, straddling his hips and snaking your arms around his neck, your lips never once leaving his. Caleb’s mind is reeling, brain trying to catch up to his body as he moves instinctively against you, naturally matching your rhythm as your tongue swipes at his bottom lip. 

He doesn't stop his hands from grabbing your waist, he doesn't think he could even if he wanted to, fingers curling around the fabric of your t-shirt. He can't suppress the groan that rumbles in his throat when your hips move against his, pushing your hips down gently. 

“Wait,” he breathes out against your lips, you pull away reluctantly, stomach flipping at the sight in front of you. Caleb's hair was messy thanks to your wandering hands, his face flush and lips slightly swollen. “We’re drunk, are you sure?” 

“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember,” You confess, eyes averting his own as you suddenly become too aware of your positioning. When you try to move off of him, his large hands keep you in place, squeezing your hips slightly. Caleb slips one hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to hold myself back? How many times I’ve wanted to kiss you until you forgot about your stupid ex-boyfriends? How hard I had to stop myself from coming down to your campus and claiming you as mine so those losers could stay away from you?” His voice shakes as he speaks, eyes frantically searching your face. 

“You think it was easy for me? Seeing every girl in our grade drool over you? Watching you flirt with other girls? The thought of you sleeping around at the DAA-”

“I have only ever wanted you, I waited for you,” Caleb cuts you off, “I told you I would, didn't I?” 

Your vision blurs, bottom lip quivering as you nod your head, “You were always the one I really wanted to be with, Caleb."

Your words send him in a frenzy, calloused thumb swiping a stray tear away as he places a gentle kiss on your lips, a stark contrast to the ones you'd shared earlier. 

“You have me, you've always had me,” his voice breaks in desperation, “I love you.”

The weight of the words pull you into him, the tension in your body seems to vanish as you relax against him. Your head nuzzles into the crook of his neck, smiling as you press a feathery kiss to the skin, it makes his head spin. 

“I love you, Caleb.”

His hands move from your waist to wrap you in his arms, engulfing your entire frame. His grip crushes you slightly, his fingers surely would leave bruises on your torso where they dug into you through the fabric of your t-shirt. 

Neither of you say anything, too busy trying to settle your racing hearts as you hold each other impossibly close, heads spinning from a mix of adrenaline and alcohol. You're the first to pull back, staring at Caleb as he looks up at you, a small smile on his face. You try and bite back the yawn threatening to escape, Caleb chuckles, “tired?”

You laugh, resting your forehead against his. “It feels wrong to just go to sleep after that.” 

“After we both just confessed we’ve been in love with each other for years?” He teases, you let out a breathy laugh, nodding. His lips still look swollen, you can't help but press another kiss to them, eyes closing. Caleb reciprocates your actions, smiling when you tug his hair softly. 

“We’re both oblivious idiots aren't we?” you mumble against his lips. Caleb nods, humming softly. “Should we talk about it?” You move back slightly, causing his grip around you to loosen, arms settling around your waist. 

“You look like you're about to pass out,” he grins, you roll your eyes at him. 

“As if you're any better,” you softly smack him, rolling off of him and sitting next to him on the couch. Caleb pouts softly, about to protest when a yawn cuts him off, you smile, glancing at the time on your phone. 

“Its about to be three in the fucking morning,” you gasp, hand covering your mouth as you and Caleb look at each other. His eyes crinkle as he stares at you, an exhausted laugh leaves his lips. 

“Let's sleep, we can talk in the morning if we aren't too hung over,” he mumbles, you don't fight back, rubbing your eyes as you stand up. Caleb's eyes don't leave your form, watching you intently as you take a couple steps away from the couch before stopping and turning around. “What's wrong?” Caleb asks, brows furrowing.

“You aren't coming?” your head cocks to the side, the room spinning as the alcohol catches up to you again, stumbling a bit and using the wall to steady yourself. Caleb rushes to your side, snaking his arm under your knees and carrying you bridal style to bed. You giggle as he lifts you effortlessly. “You’re so hot,” you mumble, lips finding his cheek and smiling. 

“Thank you pretty,” he grins, face burning as he sets you on your bed, “lets get you into pajamas.” You groan, laying on your back and closing your eyes as he rummages through your cabinets, his eyes land on a familiar shirt. “Is this my shirt?” your eyes open, at his words.

“No?” you sheepishly deny, “it's really comfy and reminds me of you,” you trail off, grabbing the blanket and covering your face with it. Caleb chuckles softly, “oh pretty girl,” he grins, taking the t-shirt for you to change into. 

“You can have my whole closet if you want,” he murmurs, loving the way you peek from under the blanket. “Don’t say things you don't mean,” you reply, muffled from beneath the blanket. A small ‘oof’ leaves you as Caleb lays on top of you, gently lowering your blanket so he could see your whole face. 

“I mean it, everything that I have is yours,” he whispers, “I’ll do anything you want, give you everything you ask for,” he pauses, sunset eyes searching yours, “I promise.” 

Caleb helps you through your night routine and you hand him a new toothbrush. You can't help but giggle when you see the sight of two toothbrushes in your toothbrush holder. Your mind drifts to all the other things in your new home you'd have two of, matching mugs, slippers, plushies. The two of you make it to bed, patting the spot next to you when you see Caleb hesitate.

“I love you so much,” you blurt out, smiling as the bed dips next to you under Caleb's weight. “I’m gonna be too embarrassed tomorrow morning to admit this-” you huff out, laughing softly, “in middle school when I brought up Sebastian? I doubt you remember but- it was a ploy Katy and I came up with because she was tired of me talking about you.” Your cheeks burn as you confess, shifting from sitting up to laying, facing Caleb. 

“Seriously?” he breathes out, disbelief on his face, have you liked him since then?  Both of you have been idiots in love since middle school. 

“Yeah,” you sheepishly admit. Caleb lays down next to you, calloused hand cupping your face and placing a soft kiss to your lips. “Wanna know something?” he whispers, minty breath fanning over your lips. You let out a low hum for him to continue. “Thats the day I realized I liked you.” 

“Shut up!” you gasp, tired eyes suddenly wide open, laughing loudly and burying your face in Caleb's chest. “God we were so oblivious, huh?” You can feel the rumble of laughter in his chest, it makes you smile harder. 

You don't say anything for a while, your head finally not spinning as you begin to sober up. Caleb’s breathing is steady, “Did you fall asleep?” you whisper, craning your neck to look at Caleb's face. His eyes are shut, a faint smile on his face, you stare for a second, taking him in; Memorizing his features, savoring the moment. You can count the freckles on his cheeks, see how chapped his lips are, the bags under his eyes make your eyes soften. A rare day off for him and he spent it drunk and staying up with you. Soft snores leave his mouth, you bite back a giggle, nuzzling further into him as you allow your eyes to close. 

Caleb wakes up before you, he can feel you pressed against him, fingers tightly gripping his t-shirt, warm steady breaths hitting his chest. He wills his eyes open, ignoring the subtle throbbing of his head as he takes in the sight before him. Your hair is messy, lips parted slightly, brows furrowed. The morning afternoon sun that sneaks in between your curtains makes you look even more beautiful. Caleb moves slightly, hoping to make you breakfast before you wake up, he freezes when you stir slightly, an annoyed groan leaving you. 

Caleb moves a piece of hair out of your face, knuckle ghosting over the apple of your cheek, he clenches his hand as he forces it away from you. As desperate as he was to feel your skin on his, he would never forgive himself if he woke you up, especially when you looked this pretty. You roll over five minutes later, giving Caleb the perfect chance to slip out of bed and make his way to the kitchen. His face drops when he opens the fridge. 

Empty.

What the hell have you been living off of? Caleb is all but offended, shaking his head as he heads back to your room, freshening up quietly before leaving a cup of water and two aspirins on your nightstand. 

The second you wake up your head aches, frowning deeply as you shield yourself from the sunlight. You don't open your eyes, letting your fuzzy memories become clearer as you slowly come to. God you were never drinking tequila again. A small groan leaves you as you force yourself to get up, body heavy as you take in your surroundings, most notably the empty space beside you. You reach for your phone, the clock reading 1:43 pm. He must've had other things to do, or got a call from the fleet, you reason, eyes catching the cup and pills on your nightstand. Your lips twitch upwards when you see a rogue sticky note besides the items. 

Your fridge is depressing :P I couldn't bring myself to wake up my beautiful girl, be back soon <3

As if on cue you hear the front door open, the sound of grocery bags rustling makes you kick the blanket off you, downing the pills and hoping they soothe your hangover. You pad over to your living room, gasping when you see the numerous grocery bags hanging off Caleb’s arms. 

“Please tell me you didn't just buy me groceries,” you say in disbelief, slowly walking up behind him. Caleb turns on his heels, a sheepish smile on his face. 

“I didn't buy you groceries,” he teases, setting the bags down and meeting you in one stride, “you feeling okay?” the concerned expression on his face makes you swoon, shrugging your shoulders at him. 

“Not the worst hangover I’ve ever had,” you mumble, smiling when he places a soft kiss on your cheek. He smiles down at you, “I’m glad,” he says, “if you wanna shower or something I can make us something to eat? And we can uh,” his face is flushed, ears red as he scratches the back of his neck as he averts his gaze from you, “we can talk about everything. Sober this time.”

You bite back a grin, face heating up as you nod, “yeah, I’d like that.” Caleb grins, relief flooding his body. 

Caleb waits for you to join him after your shower, giving you a bouquet of flowers as he asks you formally to be his girlfriend. You throw your arms around him, placing a flurry of kisses to his face. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, “for waiting for me all these years, I’m sorry I didn't realize your love was romantic as much as it was platonic,” your eyes meet his sunset ones, sparkling back at you. 

“I will always wait for you, I’d do anything for you. You know that right?” His voice is soft around the edges, the words settle nicely in your chest, warmth blooming in their place. You nod, grinning as you place a gentle kiss to his lips. Caleb melts into you naturally, the two of you smiling into the kiss before pulling away. 

“My boyfriend,” you breathe out, the term ‘boyfriend’ rolls off your tongue. No bitter taste left in your mouth this time, instead you can taste his lip balm, the same kind you'd bought him in middle school when you told him he had chapped lips. Caleb grins at you, eyes lidded as he stares at you. 

“My sweet girlfriend,” he mutters, your pinkies looping together naturally.

[hajimeowmeow]

imagine being in love with Caleb for years, only to get constantly rejected again and again and again, says the fleet doesn't have time for romance yada yada, besides he only has one thing in mind, and that's getting back to MC.

imagine it was you who found MC when she chipped and tracked Caleb to a fleet clean up, saving her from a bunch of wanderers, but also deliberately injures her lightly as a warning to stay out of fleet's business.

imagine Caleb saw all that, gets mad at you, but what were you supposed to do? she was a trespasser. but you don't report her, no, that'll just put you on Caleb's bad side.

imagine you disappear shortly. no explanation, just gone. it bugged Caleb ever since. but you're tough, you're just out there, somewhere. not like he misses your company or something, not like he missed how you bring him the lemon tea he liked, or the lunches you bring, or how you almost, almost managed to make him laugh with your antics.

he surely doesn't miss how you always tell him you liked him, why you liked him. not your wittiness, your scent, your eyes. he doesn't miss you, and the lurching in his chest every time he sees your empty post, the way he keeps your letters, sticky notes and plane brooch you gave him on his birthday in the bottom of his office drawer. it doesn't mean anything... right?

[abyssyby]

˗ˏˋ post-dumass incident happenings 𓅰 ˎˊ˗

they’re just a whole family sitcom on ig 🤦‍♀️

[all images sourced on pinterest]

[calebsfavoriteusedthong]

ACCIDENTAL (Rafayel)

A walk on the beach. A glowing white Protocore. Suddenly you’re two years in the future, watching future Rafayel’s darker side take what he wants while present Rafayel looks like he wants to erase his own memory.

CW: Oral. P in V. Smut. Dirty talk. Mean Rafayel. Ebb day (present and future) 🔞MDNI🔞

Caleb's Part Xavier's Part Sylus' Part Zayne's Part

Thomas had called thirty minutes ago in a state that could only be described as pre funeral.

"He's missed three deadlines already," he'd said, his voice climbing steadily toward a register that made your ear hurt. "Three. He won't pick up his phone. He won't answer the door. You're the only person he actually opens it for and I am begging you—"

"Thomas."

"—I will owe you forever, I will name my firstborn after you, I will—"

"I'll go."

So here you are. The door is unlocked, which means he knows you are coming or he has simply stopped caring about basic security, and with Rafayel it could be either. You let yourself in and the smell hits you first—turpentine, salt air, and a metallic undertone that clings to the house when he has been working for days without opening a window. The curtains are half drawn. Canvases everywhere. Leaning against the walls, stacked in the corner, one propped against the leg of the kitchen table for reasons you cannot begin to guess. A few look finished. Most do not. One near the window still has wet paint on it, deep blues bleeding into reds at the center, colors so saturated they look heavy.

You find him on the couch.

He is half sprawled across it with one arm thrown over the backrest and the other resting across his stomach, still in the same white shirt he had on two days ago when you dropped off food he has probably forgotten to eat. It is unbuttoned too far, sleeves shoved up, the fabric wrinkled past saving. His hair is a disaster. There is a faint sheen at his temples.

He doesn't look up when you come in.

You drop your bag on the nearest clear surface, which takes a moment to locate, and walk over.

“Rafayel.”

Nothing.

You move until you're standing directly in his eyeline."Thomas is losing his mind because you won't answer your phone, and apparently that's now my problem too. He called me four times. Four, Rafayel. I am not your secretary."

He blinks. Slow, like the signal has to travel a long distance before it arrives. His eyes finally move up to yours and the color in them is slightly off from usual. There is too much color on his face too. High on his cheekbones, a flush that had no business being there in the middle of the afternoon.

"You look terrible," you say to him.

The corner of his mouth makes an attempt at something"That's not a very nice thing to say."

"What's going on? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine." his voice is rougher than it should be "The paintings will be ready. Tell Thomas to calm down."

But his face does something when he finishes the sentence—the flush deepens fast, color rushing up his neck—and he turns his head away and brings his arm up over his eyes like the light has suddenly gotten worse. Or like he has decided you have seen enough of his face.

You watch him for a moment.

"Rafayel."

"I'm fiiiiiine," he says again, quieter. Still behind his arm. The tips of his ears now pink. "You can go. Really. I just need another hour."

He doesn't sound like he needs an hour. He sounds like he needs a week and possibly an IV drip, and the arm covering his face is now pressing slightly harder.

You pull the low table out of the way and sit on the edge of the couch near his legs. The apartment holds its quiet around you.

"How long have you been like this?"

Nothing.

"Was it like this yesterday?"

Still nothing.

"Rafayel, I'm going to start guessing and I'm going to keep guessing out loud until you answer me. I have a lot of time and nowhere to be."

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist to check his pulse and the second you touch him, he sucks in a breath and goes stiff beneath your hand. It wasn't surprise. You'd touched him before. This was different.

He pulls his arm back. The flush on his face has gone from concerning to alarming, deep red climbing all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Don't," he presses his arm back over his eyes "Please don't touch me right now."

"What do you mean? You just flinched like I burned you." you lean closer, trying to get a look at his face, which he is now actively shielding. "Rafayel. What is wrong with you? Is this an Evol thing? Did something happen? Do I need to call a doctor?"

"No." flat and immediate."No doctors."

"You are burning up!"

"It's not a normal fever." He curls slightly away from you, toward the back of the couch, and on a normal day it would be funny but his voice has gone rough enough that nothing about it is funny right now. "It'll pass. It always does."

"Raf" You keep your voice even. "Tell me what's happening."

He peeks at you from between his fingers. One eye, glassy and annoyed. “I’m an artist. We’re supposed to look tragic. It’s part of the look.”

“You’re part of the ‘about to pass out on your own couch and give me a heart attack’ look.”

He drops his hand with a dramatic sigh and flops further into the cushions like the weight of your existence is personally offending him. “You’re cruel. Coming into a man’s home, insulting his artistic suffering, and for what? So Thomas can sleep better at night?"

You crouch down beside the couch so you’re closer to eye level. Up close the heat rolling off him is worse. His skin looks damp at the hairline. You reach out without thinking and press the back of your hand to his forehead.

For a few seconds the apartment is quiet enough that you can hear the distant crash of waves through the open doors. Then he makes a soft, offended sound in the back of his throat and tips his head away, but not before you feel how warm he really is.

“It’s just… residual inspiration. Very intense residual inspiration.” He waves a vague hand at the half finished canvases. “I was in the middle of a breakthrough and then life decided to be rude. Happens to the best of us.”

You stay crouched there, unimpressed. “When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t coffee or paint water?”

“I had some grapes. Possibly yesterday.”

You straighten up and plant your hands on your hips. “Get up.”

He stares at you like you just suggested he set his favorite brushes on fire. “Excuse me?”

“Get up. We’re going for a walk.”

“A walk.” He repeats the word slowly, making sure you understand the gravity of what you've suggested. "When every bone in my body is requesting a soft death on this expensive couch. You want me to walk?”

“Yes. Fresh air. Ocean. Moving your legs like a person"

He throws an arm over his eyes again. “I should have never given you that spare key.”

“You didn’t give me a spare key. I stole it last month when you refused to answer the door for a week.”

“…That tracks,” he mutters.

You lean down, catch his wrist, and tug. Just enough to make it clear you’re not leaving without him. He resists for show, then lets himself be hauled into a sitting position with a long groan that would have been more convincing if he didn’t immediately lean into your space like the proximity was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Shoes. Now. Or I call Thomas and tell him you’re dying.”

That gets his attention. He looks up at you, eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Rafayel stares at you, weighing the threat.

“Fine. But if I collapse on the sand, you’re carrying me home. Bridal style.”

“Deal.”

Getting him vertical takes longer than it should. He sways once, catches your shoulder, and mutters something about gravity being a personal enemy today. You wait him out, steady, until he seems relatively solid on his feet. He shoves his feet into a pair of scuffed loafers without bothering to tie them properly, grabs a light jacket from the back of a chair, and follows you toward the door with the air of a man being led to his own execution.

Outside the air is cooler, the walk down toward the shore is quiet at first. You keep half a step behind him in case he decides to run for it. He doesn’t. He just walks with his hands shoved in his pockets, head tipped back like he’s trying to convince the sky to take pity on him.

After a few minutes the silence starts to feel intentional.

“You’re hovering,” he says without looking at you.

“I’m making sure you don’t faceplant into the ground.”

“I’m fine.”

“You said that earlier while looking like a Victorian orphan with consumption.”

He shoots you a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching “You’ve been spending too much time with Thomas. You’re starting to sound like him. Next you’ll be scheduling my meals and color coding my paint tubes.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

The path curves and the beach opens up ahead of you, all pale sand and clear water. The tide is low. The air smells cleaner out here. Rafayel slows as soon as his shoes hit the sand.

“I hate sand,” he complains. “It gets everywhere. Inside my shoes and between my toes"

“You live by the ocean.”

“I live by the view. The view does not require contact with the sand.”

You keep walking. He follows, grumbling under his breath the whole way, but the color in his face looks a little less alarming now that he’s upright and moving. The sea breeze seems to help. Or maybe it’s just the distraction of having someone to complain at.

You end up near the waterline where the sand is firmer. Rafayel stops, kicks off his loafers with unnecessary drama, and digs his toes into the wet sand and you do the same. The water feels cold when it reaches your ankles. He hisses.

“Its cold, the ocean is being rude today.”

“Everything is rude today according to you.”

“You didn’t have to come, you know. Thomas worries too much. I would have eventually crawled out of the couch and finished the paintings. Maybe.”

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. “Next time just answer your phone so I don’t have to play rescue mission.”

He is quiet for a moment. The waves keep rolling in, soft and steady. Then he says, almost too low to catch“Maybe I like it when you show up.”

You glance at him. He’s looking out at the water, expression carefully neutral, but the tips of his ears have gone pink again.

Before you can decide what to do with that, something catches the light near the edge of the tide line.

A pale shape, half buried in the wet sand a few meters ahead. Not a shell or glass.

You frown and walk toward it. Rafayel trails after you, curiosity overriding whatever lethargy is left.

“What is it?” he asks.

You crouch and dig it free carefully. It’s a protocore, small and pure white. Not the usual colors you’ve seen before. This one looks almost unfinished, like someone carved a piece of moonlight and left it on the beach for the tide to find.

It pulses once against your palm.

Rafayel goes still beside you.

“That’s…” He trails off, eyes fixed on the white glow in your hand. “I’ve never seen one like that.”

Neither have you.

The pulse happens again. Stronger this time. The air around the two of you tightens, like the moment before a storm breaks.

You look up at him.

He’s already looking at you.

The second his fingers brush the white protocore everything changes.

A sudden pull that yanks the air out of your lungs and folds the beach in on itself. All of it collapses inward like someone is sucking the world through a straw. You feel Rafayel’s hand close hard around your wrist a split second before the ground disappears.

Then you’re falling.

You hit something green and scratchy with enough force to knock the breath out of you. Leaves slap your face and twigs dig into your back. Somewhere to your left Rafayel makes a noise that is half groan, half pure offense.

“Ouch—my hand—”

You push yourself up on your elbows, leaves stuck in your hair, heart hammering against your ribs. The protocore is still clutched in your hand, warm and faintly pulsing like a second heartbeat. Rafayel is sprawled half on his side in the same bush, one arm flung out, the other cradled against his chest. He looks personally betrayed by the existence of shrubbery.

“What the hell was that?”

He sits up with a wince, shaking leaves out of his hair. “I barely touched it and the universe decided to throw us into a hedge. Rude. Extremely rude.” He flexes his fingers, scowling. “I think I scraped my palm on a leaf."

You scramble to your feet, brushing dirt off your clothes, and look around.

The beach is gone.

Instead of open sand and ocean you are standing at the edge of a garden that looks like it belongs on the cover of an architecture magazine.

You are inside a mansion.

A full, sprawling mansion of pale stone, all clean lines and floor to ceiling glass, the kind of place that makes expensive sound like an understatement. Balconies wrap around the upper floors. Somewhere behind the structure you can hear the faint splash of water.

Rafayel stares.

Then he says, very quietly, “Oh no.”

“What?”

He is already moving, shoving through the bushes with far less grace than usual, heading for an open side door a few meters away. You follow because what else are you supposed to do. The protocore is still in your fist.

Inside is cool and quiet and smells faintly of citrus. The entryway alone is bigger than most people’s apartments. Polished floors. A vase of white flowers on a console table. Everything is spotless, lived in but somehow still perfect.

Rafayel walks straight to a side table near the door like he knows exactly where everything is. He picks up a folded newspaper that has been left there, glances at the front page and freezes.

You step closer. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer. He just turns the paper so you can see the date printed in bold black letters at the top.

Two years ahead.

Exactly two years.

The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on.

“That’s not possible,” you say “Protocores don’t— they don’t do that.”

He flips the paper open, scans the headlines like he’s hoping the date will change if he looks hard enough.

“This is one of my properties. I bought it last year as an investment. It wasn’t even finished yet. The pool wasn’t installed. The gardens weren’t—” He stops, swallows. “This isn’t supposed to exist yet.”

You look down at the white protocore still glowing faintly in your hand.

His eyes track the movement and he reaches for it again, fingers outstretched—

A sound cuts through the quiet, coming from the back of the house. Something that might be water. Or someone moving.

Both of you go still.

“That should be the pool,” he says after a second"Or where the pool apparently already is.”

You glance at him. “We should leave.”

“We should.” the newspaper is still clenched in his other hand. “But if this is actually… if we really are two years ahead…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. Curiosity already written across his face.

You move together, quiet, following the sound through the open plan living space and out through a set of wide glass doors that lead to the rear terrace. The pool is exactly where the sound suggested— huge, water so clear it looks like glass.

And there, on a sunbathing chair is Rafayel.

Not the one standing beside you.

Another one.

He is half reclined, one leg bent, the other stretched out. A large sketchbook rests against his thigh. Charcoal smudges his fingers. He is wearing only a pair of dark swim shorts that sit low on his hips, and his skin is flushed a deep, uneven red across his chest, shoulders and the high points of his cheekbones, like he has been sitting in the sun for too long, or like something under the surface is running too hot. His hair is slightly damp, pushed back from his face. He is completely focused on the page in front of him, his fingers moving in long strokes.

Present Rafayel makes a sound beside you but can’t look away.

The drawing is… not subtle. Even from this distance you can see the curve of a bare hip, the arch of a spine, the suggestion of breasts. A woman. Naked. Rendered with intimate details that make your stomach twist. Future Rafayel’s hand moves again, refining the line of a thigh, and the flush on his skin seems to deepen.

Present Rafayel’s fingers close around your upper arm, hard.

“We need to go,” he's trying to tug you back "Right now. This is— this is private. This is extremely private and we are not supposed to be here"

You dig your heels in. “That’s you.”

“I am aware it is me. That is the problem.” his voice is louder“We are leaving before—”

A splash of water cuts him off.

Someone is climbing out of the pool.

She— you— rises from the water in one smooth motion, water streaming down bare skin. A pink swimsuit clings to every curve, soaked through and heavy. She pushes her wet hair back from her face, water droplets catching the light as they slide down her throat, between her breasts, lower. She look relaxed. Comfortable. Like she belong here. Like this is ordinary.

She walks toward his sunbathing chair and Rafayel’s grip on your arm turns bruising.

“Don’t look,” he whispers, almost desperate. “Please don't look. We are going to pretend none of this happened and—”

You look anyway.

And that is when you see what he has been trying to pull you away from.

One of future Rafayel’s hands is not longer resting on the sketchbook.

His palm is pressed firmly over the front of his shorts. The fabric is stretched tight. The outline of his cock is unmistakable. He is hard, and he is not even trying to hide it. His eyes are still on the page, on the naked figure he is drawing, but his hand starts moving in a lazy, self indulgent rhythm like the two things are connected.

Your mouth goes dry.

He is half naked in the sunlight and it is impossible not to notice everything at once. The breadth of his shoulders. The clean lines of muscle across his chest and stomach, still faintly damp from earlier swimming or from the heat rolling off his skin. The way his abs tighten when his hand presses harder. He looks like a sculpted god.

Present Rafayel sounds like he is being slowly murdered.

“Stop staring,” his ears are scarlet. His whole face is scarlet. “I cannot believe he has the audacity to— in broad daylight— with a sketchbook— I am going to have words with myself. Harsh words."

Future you reaches his chair and future Rafayel finally looks up.

He smiles at her like the sun just came out and the flush on his skin darkens another shade.

You cannot look away from the version of him stretched out in the chair, hard, watching her while he strokes his cock.

“Seriously, stop looking.”

“You stop looking.”

“I’m looking at myself!”

“So am I!”

“That is not the same thing and you know it. Looking at me looking like that is a crime against my dignity. Stop.”

You do not stop and he doesn't either.

Future Rafayel sets the sketchbook aside and leans back, one hand still pressed over the front of his shorts, and watches the wet version of you like he has been counting every second.

“Took you long enough, I was starting to think you’d decided to let me suffer out here alone.”

She moves and stops between his knees, water still running down her skin in slow tracks. She tips her head, droplets falling onto his thighs. “You looked busy. I didn’t want to interrupt the masterpiece.” her eyes drop to the thick outline under his palm. “Although it seems you are having a hard time staying focused.”

He lets out a breath that is half laugh when she reaches down and presses her fingers over his, forcing him to grind harder against his own hand. “You’re evil.”

She leans in until her wet hair brushes his chest and her mouth is close to his ear. “How long have you been out here touching yourself to a drawing of me?”

“I’m starting to regret every time I told you I liked it when you teased.”

“You love it when I tease.” her voice drops lower, soft and filthy. “You like it when I make you draw me while you're hard. When I sit there and tell you in detail what I'm going to do to your cock later and watch you try to keep your hand steady." she drags one finger down his chest."You've gotten close just from that. Just from my voice. Haven't you?"

His hips jerk under her hand. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Let me come. I’ve been good. I waited. I drew every line exactly the way you wanted—look at it, it’s—”

She picks up the sketchbook, glances at the page, and sets it back down with a small, considering hum. “That’s good enough.”

She moves back to settle on her knees between his thighs. Takes her time about it.

Rafayel’s fingers dig into your arm. “Is she—"

Her hands move to his hips. Thumbs hooked under the waistband of the dark shorts. He lifts enough to help. The fabric drags down, catching for a second on the fat head of his dick before it springs free.

It's a really pretty cock.

Long, slightly curved, thick enough that her fingers look almost delicate wrapped around the base. The head is dark pink and shiny, already wet from how long he has been touching himself. A thick vein runs along the underside. A clear bead or precum gathers at the tip and threatens to spill.

“I did not need to see that. I did not need to see my future—”

She doesn't take him into her mouth right away. She leans in and licks a slow stripe over the head, catching that bead of pre on her tongue and humming like it was exactly what she wanted. His hand flies to her wet hair, holding on“Fuck—don’t tease, not after everything—”

She drags her tongue up the underside slowly, base to tip, and his thigh jumps against her shoulder.

Then she circles the head, the flat of her tongue pressing in, taking her time with the ridge of it, the specific place that makes his breath change, and she stays there until his breathing has gone uneven enough that she can hear it clearly over everything else.

She licks the tip once and his hips move forward and then stop, the effort of keeping still visible in every muscle of his thighs.

She licks it again. Slower.

His thighs are shaking now, a fine tremor he's trying to control and can't. She watches him and waits until it gets worse.

Then she opens her mouth and sinks down.

All the way.

Her throat works around him. He groans, head falling back against the chair as she starts to move, she pulls almost all the way off so her tongue can swirl over the head before she slides back down until her nose brushes the flushed skin of his stomach.

Present Rafayel is now quiet beside you. Heat rolls off him in waves. When you glance sideways his face is the same feverish red it was on the couch. He has angled himself carefully so the front of his pants stays hidden, but the tension in his shoulders and the way his throat works when he swallows tell you everything. Future him is deep in it. Present him is feeling every second.

You look back.

She keeps teasing—pulling off to lick long, wet stripes up the underside, sucking just the head while her hand strokes the rest in tight twists, then taking him deep again until his hips keep making small thrusts he is clearly fighting. His voice has gone wrecked and pleading.

“Please— I’ve been so patient— you said if I waited you’d let me— fuck, your mouth is so wet— don’t stop—”

She hums around him. The vibration makes his whole body jolt. Her free hand slides between his legs, cupping and rolling his balls while she sucks harder, faster, the wet sounds turning filthy. Spit slicks down his shaft. Her lips stay stretched around him. Every time she takes him to the root he makes a broken little sound like he cannot believe it's still happening.

He comes with a punched out groan, hips lifting off the chair, one hand fisted tight in her wet hair. She stays on him through it, swallowing, throat working visibly around every pulse until he finally sags back, panting, still twitching on her tongue.

Something in the air shifts.

The flush on future Rafayel’s skin deepens and when he opens his eyes they are no longer the same color. They glow in a bright, electric blue, completely different from the man who was begging a moment ago. The sea god is looking out through them now. You can feel it in the way the temperature of the air seems to drop, in the way the water in the pool goes unnaturally still for half a second.

He moves fast.

One second he is still half sprawled in the chair. The next he has hauled her up into his arms like she weights nothing, takes two long strides, and jumps.

Water explodes outward as they hit the pool together.

Present Rafayel’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no—"

They surface together and his mouth finds hers before she's finished catching her breath.

It's not a gentle kiss. It's wet and open and his tongue slides against hers like he's been thinking about doing this for hours.

He moves her back through the water.

She lets him. Her hands are at his shoulders, the water is chest high and he moves through it like it's nothing, one arm around her waist, the other already at the strings of her bikini top, pulling at the knot at her back while his mouth stays on hers and the tiled edge of the pool finds her spine.

He pulls back half an inch just to look at her, water running down her face, her hair slicked back, both of them breathing hard and then his hand finds the knot at her neck and tugs.

Her breasts spill free, wet and flushed, nipples tight from the cool air and the sudden attention. He makes a low, approving sound and ducks his head, taking one into his mouth. He bites—hard enough to make her gasp sharply—then soothes the sting with a wide stroke of his tongue before sucking hard enough that the sound carries clearly across the water. His other hand cups the second breast, thumb dragging roughly over the nipple until it is just as tight and sensitive.

Heat pools between your legs, soaking into the fabric of your panties. You can feel every pulse of your clit.

“We have to look away” you say, voice thinner than it should be.

Rafayel’s head snaps toward you. His eyes are glassy. The flush on his face has spread down his throat. “I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

He doesn't deny it again. He just stares at you, breathing too fast, while the sounds from the pool keep going.

Future Rafayel has one hand between her legs under the water. You can tell by the way her hips roll, by the way one hand clutches the edge of the pool hard enough that the tendons stand out in her wrist. They are face to face, breathing the same air, mouths almost touching.

His voice has dropped into something deeper, colder, older—nothing like the playful tone from before.

“You're shaking already and I’ve barely touched you. All that teasing earlier, all that swimming past me with your eyes on my cock, and now you can barely breathe. Pathetic.” He pushes two fingers in without warning and her head falls back with a broken sound. “You spent hours winding me up and the second I take over you turn into this?”

She is breathless. He adds a third finger and his mouth stays right against hers as he speaks, mean and relentless.

“Your pussy is needy today. Every time I curl my fingers you clench like you’re trying to keep them inside. You’re not keeping anything. I'll take them out when I want to take them out. You’re just a hole that gets wet when I stop being kind. Tell me what you are.”

“Yours—”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“Your hole— fuck— your wet little hole—”

“Better.” the word is sharp, almost amused. “You pushed and pushed and now you get the consequences. He curls his fingers and holds.

"I'm going to make you come like this first." His mouth at her jaw. Just his lips against her skin, speaking directly into it. "Then I'm going to put my mouth on you and do it again. While you cry." his thumb circles her clit "Because you're going to cry. We both know that."

She opens her mouth.

"Don't even think about it" he says.

She closes it.

"After that—" his fingers pull back slowly and push forward and she clenches and he makes a quiet sound of acknowledgment that is worse than anything else he's done so far, "—if I decide you've earned it, you get my cock." He pulls back just enough to look at her face "Understand?"

She can only nod, trembling.

His thumb circles her clit again.

Once.

Her thighs try to close but his hand is in the way.

Twice.

She grabs at his arm. Not pushing, just needing something to hold onto. He lets her. His fingers curl inside her at the same time, in an angle he's already learned, and the combination of it makes her vision blur at the edges.

"Stay with me,"

Three times.

She clenches hard around his fingers and makes a sound that is embarrassingly close to a sob and he groans in response, satisfied, his mouth dropping to the side of her neck.

"There it is."

Four times.

She comes apart so fast it surprises her, her orgasm hitting before she's braced for it, her whole body seizing around his fingers. He keeps his thumb exactly where it is, keeps the pressure steady, works her through every wave of it without speeding up or slowing down, just that same circle while she shakes against him and grabs at whatever she can reach.

He doesn't stop until she goes still.

Then he pulls his fingers out slowly and she feels the loss of them immediately.

He looks at his hand.

"One"

Heat throbs hard between your legs. You realize you are panting, mouth open, and that present Rafayel is close and his eyes keep dropping to your mouth and then to your future selves like he cannot decide which is more dangerous.

In the pool, Rafayel ducks under the water without another word.

Her hands slap against the edge, gripping so hard her knuckles go white. Her back arches. The moan that tears out of her is loud enough that anyone walking by would think she is dying. He stays under, the water moving in small waves.

She grabs the pool edge and tries to pull herself out. He pulls her back down.

She cums with a cry that cracks in the middle and leaves her trembling.

He surfaces slowly, eyes still that bright, unnatural blue. "Two"

He doesnt give her time to recover.

He hooks her knees over his elbows, lines himself up, and pushes in with one hard thrust that punches another broken sound out of her. He fucks her like he is trying to leave bruises on the inside, his mouth staying close to her ear the whole time, voice still mean and devastatingly effective.

“Dont look away, watch me use you.” He snaps his hips harder “You're already trying to milk me. Greedy. You’ve always been a greedy girl"

She can barely form words.

“You’re going to come on my cock and when you do, you’re going to say thank you like you mean it. If you don’t, I’ll stop and leave you empty. Clear?”

“Yes— clear— please don’t stop—”

“I wasn’t asking you to beg. I was telling you the rules.” He fucks her deeper, the water splashing over the edge with every thrust. “So the next time you decide to tease me for hours, remember how it ends. Remember how the sea god fucks the attitude out of you until all that’s left is this—open legs and a mouth that only knows how to thank me.”

The heat is now unbearable. You turn away because the combination of the wet filth of it and the way Rafayel is breathing beside you makes it hard to pull air into your lungs. Your thighs are pressed tightly together. You can feel how soaked you are, how every mean word from the pool seems to land directly between your legs.

A hand brushes yours.

You look down.

Rafayel is right there—close enough that the heat of his body sinks into your skin, close enough that the flush on his cheekbones is impossible to ignore. His eyes are fixed on your face. The lewd sounds from the pool keep washing over both of you—water, skin, broken moans, the low mean murmur of future him still talking, still fucking into her with the same rhythm, still telling her exactly who she is and how he is going to keep using her.

His fingers slide against yours, until the tips brush the edge of the white protocore still clutched in your hand.

Gravity disappears. You feel his hand tighten around yours and the two of you are pulled hard into a sudden, familiar freefall.

It ends the same way it started, without warning.

You hit something warm and solid at the same time Rafayel does. The impact knocks the air out of both of you. But you are not side by side.

You are on top of him.

Your knees bracket his hips. Your hands have landed on either side of his head. His are on your waist, fingers spread like he grabbed for you mid fall and never let go. The white protocore slips from your hand and dissolves into the air. His chest rises and falls hard under yours. His eyes are wide and dark and too close.

The flush on his face from earlier has not faded. If anything it has gotten worse. Up close you can see the way his pupils are blown, the way his throat works when he swallows. You can feel every place you are touching. The press of his stomach against yours. The unmistakable hardness that is currently pressed against the inside of your leg.

He notices the exact second you notice.

The ocean keeps making its usual sounds like nothing has happened, like the two of you did not just watch his future self get his soul sucked out through his dick.

“Raf—”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes like that will help. “Don't say anything. Dont move. I am hanging on by a thread"

You can feel the thread, currently throbbing against your thigh.

“You’re hard,” you say, because someone has to acknowledge the extremely obvious.

“Yes. Thank you for the live commentary. I was hoping we could both pretend the last twenty minutes did not happen and that I am not currently one deep breath away from doing something we will both have to live with for the rest of our lives.”

“We just watched—”

“I am aware of what we watched.” His eyes open again. They are fixed on your mouth. “Future me is a menace. Future you on her knees is a menace. The entire afternoon has been a coordinated attack on my ability to act like a functional person.”

You shift slightly and the movement drags you directly over the hard line of his cock. His fingers dig into your waist hard enough that you feel the shape of every single one.

His eyes keep dropping to your mouth and then forcing themselves back up.

“This is your fault,” he mutters. “You and your ‘let’s go for a walk’. I was having a relaxing day on my couch and now I have the memory of my own co—”

He cuts himself off.

“Rafayel.”

“What.”

“You’re still holding me.”

You can feel the damp spot between your legs, still lingering from everything you watched. Every inhale presses your chests together. Every exhale makes the space between your mouths smaller.

“If you kiss me right now I am going to let you. And then I am going to hate both of us for doing it on a public beach with sand in places sand should never be. So please, for the love of every unfinished painting in my studio. Do not.”

You don't kiss him but you also don't move off him.

His eyes are so dark they look almost black. You can feel the exact shape of his cock now and the way it jumps when you move your weight even a fraction.

A shadow falls over both of you.

Someone clears their throat.

“Am I interrupting?” Thomas asks, voice flat with exhaustion that only comes from managing Rafayel for years, “or is this the new method for meeting deadlines?"

He stands a few feet away with a folder under one arm. He looks from Rafayel's face to yours and then back to him again.

“You weren’t answering your phone. Again. The gallery has three collectors asking about the new pieces and I was informed—by you, last week—that they would be finished by today.” Thomas’s eyes drop briefly to where your knees are still bracketing Rafayel’s hips.

“I have been having a medical event,” Rafayel says through his teeth. “A very private medical event that is currently being made less private by the second.”

“You’re on the beach. On top of each other. In public. Do either of you need a hand up, or should I come back in ten minutes with a a plausible deniability statement for the local press?”

Rafayel’s hands finally leave your waist like they have been burned. You scramble off him, heart still hammering, face hot. He sits up slowly, carefully angling his body so the evidence of the last few minutes stays hidden behind one bent knee. His hair is a disaster. There is sand on his cheek. The flush is still there.

Thomas looks between you both one more time, then pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m going to pretend I saw nothing” he turns and starts walking back to Rafayel's home without waiting for an answer.

Rafayel stares after him for a long second. Then he drops his face into his hands and lets out a muffled sound.

You sit there in the sand beside him, trying very hard not to think about the way his voice sounded when he told you not to kiss him.

He stands up carefully, brushing sand off his pants and offers you a hand without quite meeting your eyes.

“Come on. Before Thomas comes back”

You take his hand.

It is warm.

He does not let go right away.

When he realizes he is still holding it he drops it and starts walking, deciding the only way to survive this afternoon is to pretend, pretend none of it happened and that he doesn't need a very cold shower.

You follow him and watch the back of his neck stay pink the entire way.

THE LAST PART FOR THIS SERIES IS VALKO, BUT FIRST NERD! ZAYNE (SYLUS) 😈😈😏

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[flirtwithluck]

Hello!! I hope all is well with you! I was wondering if it could request a story where Non-mc is in a relationship with the Lis (separately) and has an overprotective sibling, (doesn't matter if its a twin, an older sibling or a younger sibling, you can choose) who has a rocky relationship with the Lis because they're worried the Lis will break Non-mc's heart and go back to MC. That's all, I really like your stories btw!!❤️

(No pressure tho, you don't have to write this if you don't want😅)

Author’s Note: So, although I have siblings, we're not very close, and I've never been protective of them - or them of me - in that way. So, I hope I did this request justice. 🫣

Also, I hope you don't mind, but I excluded the in-game MC from Zayne's and Rafayel's drabbles (as in, she's not mentioned) because she just didn't fit into them. 🫠

Synopsis: a collection of Love and Deepspace drabbles where your protective siblings puts your relationship under the microscope.

Pairing: all the LIs separately, including Valko x reader

Trigger/content warnings: established relationship, fluff, protective siblings, family dynamics, domestic

THE FAMILY APPROVAL ARC

XAVIER (word count : 490)

This has to be the most awkward family dinner you’ve ever had.

You sit beside Xavier, while across from you are your two older brothers and Jeremiah.

Jeremiah looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Your brothers are openly sizing Xavier up with unmistakable disapproval.

Jeremiah is a close friend of both you and your now-boyfriend Xavier, who owns Philo. The business that he eventually needed help and hired you.

He was impressed by your knowledge of flowers and your natural ability to connect with customers, and the two of you quickly became close friends.

Through Jeremiah, you met Xavier.

And immediately developed a crush on him.

You did everything you could to get to know him better, spend time with him, and eventually confess your feelings.

When Xavier rejected you, you tried not to let it show how much it hurt. You laughed it off and agreed to stay friends.

To your surprise, things didn’t end there.

One night, in the middle of the night, Xavier teleported into your bedroom.

He confessed that the reason he had rejected you wasn’t because he didn’t feel the same.

He was afraid of moving forward.

Afraid of being selfish.

Afraid of letting go of the past.

The past he spoke of involved his home planet, Philos, the mission of the Backtrackers, and the woman he had once loved: MC, the queen of Philos.

For a brief moment, he believed he had found her again on Earth, in this timeline.

But eventually he realized that the MC of this world was not the queen he remembered. There were similarities, yes, but they were not the same person.

After a long and honest conversation, the two of you decided to give your relationship a chance.

Unfortunately, that led to your biggest challenge : your brothers.

They had hated every boy you had ever dated. Their overprotectiveness had sabotaged more than one relationship by driving your partners away.

And now they sit across from Xavier, interrogating him like he is a criminal.

Xavier, however, remains calm, soft-spoken, and completely unbothered.

“Alright, that’s enough!” you snap, slamming your fist against the table.

“I’m not a child anymore,” you glare at your brothers. “I don’t need your approval - let alone your permission - to date whoever I want.”

“I mean… he doesn’t seem that bad,” one brother mutters.

The other sighs.

“I was still hoping you and Jeremiah would end up together. You two would make a cute couple.”

Jeremiah chokes on his drink, coughing violently.

“We’re just friends,” he wheezes, waving a hand dismissively.

Beside you, Xavier turns his head toward Jeremiah and gives him a perfectly level, icy stare.

A stare you recognize as jealousy.

“Starlight is right,” Xavier says at last, taking your hand in his.

“I didn’t come here seeking permission,” he says calmly.

“I came here to tell you that your sister is important to me, and I intend to stay by her side.”

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ZAYNE (word count : 381)

Hoping this would be a chance for your ten-year-old sister to bond with your boyfriend, Zayne, you brought them both to the park.

Instead, your sister clings to your arm, wedges herself between you and Zayne on the bench, and glares at him so intensely that you’re convinced that, if she were a cat, she’d be hissing.

She hasn’t liked Zayne since the day you introduced them.

At first, you assumed it was because of his cold, stoic, unapproachable demeanor. Then you figured she was simply shy.

Eventually, you asked her directly why she dislikes him.

“He’s a doctor,” she huffed.

“Doctors are mean. They poke people with needles, make people take yucky medicine, and act all bossy. What if he scolds you when you’re sick?”

You stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. The reasoning was so ridiculous that it was impossible not to find it adorable.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” you say, gently prying her off your arm and standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

Before she can follow you, you add, “Stay here and go play.”

She watches you walk away, then turns to Zayne, pouts, and trudges toward the playground.

Zayne can’t help the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He keeps a discreet eye on her, and the moment he sees her trip, he’s on his feet and beside her in seconds.

She sits on the ground with a scraped knee, trying not to cry.

“Does it hurt?” Zayne asks, crouching beside her. “Let me see.”

He gently takes her leg, pulls an antiseptic wipe from his jacket pocket, cleans the scrape, and carefully places a colorful children’s bandage over it.

“All better,” he says, his expression softening slightly.

Then he opens his palm to reveal a wrapped candy.

By the time you return, balancing three iced teas, you blink in confusion.

Zayne is pushing your sister on the swings.

When she spots you, she hops off and grabs one of the drinks.

“I was wrong, sis,” she announces between sips. “Doctors aren’t so bad. At least not Dr. Zayne.”

You lean closer to Zayne and lower your voice so only he can hear.

“So,” you murmur, “how many candies did it take to bribe her?”

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RAFAYEL (word count : 387)

You stand in front of a painting at Flux Arts, admiring it while your teenage brother lingers beside you.

“All that fuss… for this?” he says, gesturing toward the artwork with a dismissive click of his tongue.

About a year ago, you landed a job as an assistant to Thomas, Rafayel’s manager. You were a fresh college graduate and already knew Rafayel, having been lucky enough to have him as your art professor during your final semester.

Thomas had been desperate for extra help after he and his wife welcomed a baby, and you were thrilled. You thought you had landed your dream job.

However, you quickly learned that Professor Rafayel and Artist Rafayel were two very different people.

The man was dramatic and an absolute handful.

So every day, you came home and complained to your teenage brother about the “dramatic fishie,” as you affectionately call him.

Eventually, though, you learned how to navigate Rafayel’s complicated personality. Somewhere along the way, your frustration turned into fondness, and the time you spent with him became something you genuinely looked forward to.

Which eventually led to the two of you becoming a couple.

Much to both your brother’s and your own disbelief.

The problem was that your brother only remembered the countless complaints, the exhausted sighs, and the endless stories about Rafayel driving you crazy.

So naturally, he wasn’t exactly Rafayel’s biggest fan.

That was why you brought him here today - to one of Rafayel’s exhibitions. You wanted him to see the Rafayel you have fallen in love with.

It will also be the first time the two of them are meeting face to face.

“Give him a chance,” you say, glancing at your brother.

Your brother gives you a pointed look.

“You literally called him unbearable last year.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice cuts in.

“Unbearable? Cutieee, I’m wounded.”

You turn around to find Rafayel standing behind you, clutching his chest dramatically and pouting.

“So this is the little brother I’ve heard so much about,” he says, straightening as he looks him over.

Your brother narrows his eyes.

“And you’re the guy I’ve heard way too much about.”

Rafayel’s pout immediately turns into a grin.

“So you’ve been talking about me this whole time? I knew I was always on your mind.” Rafayel tease you.

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SYLUS (word count : 418)

Your older sister sits across the dining table in a fancy restaurant, opposite Sylus, who lazily swirls the wine in his glass.

“If you think you can bribe me into accepting you - or throw money at me to keep my mouth shut - you’re mistaken,” she says, glaring at him.

“You’re the one who requested this meeting,” Sylus replies smoothly, taking a sip of his wine.

You huff.

“All rich people are snobs,” you mutter under your breath just as the waiter places your meals in front of you.

Your sister spears a bite of food with her fork. The moment it touches her tongue, her eyes widen, and she lets out a satisfied hum.

When she looks up, Sylus is smirking at her.

“Don’t look so smug,” she snaps. “A sharp jawline, endless zeros in your bank account, and excellent taste in food are not enough to sway me.”

A low chuckle rumbles from Sylus’s chest.

“I can see where your sister gets her feisty attitude from.”

Your sister sets down her utensils.

“My sister is an outstanding hunter in the Hunters Association,” she says seriously.

Sylus hums in agreement.

“It’s bad enough that, as a hunter, she risks her life every day for strangers,” your sister continues with a sigh. “But she loves her job.”

Her expression hardens.

“Being associated with you - the leader of Onychinus - not only puts her in greater danger, it could also destroy her career.”

That’s right. Your sister knows Sylus’s true identity: the leader of Onychinus, ruler of the lawless N109 Zone, and one of the Hunters Association’s most wanted criminals.

The only reason you became involved with Onychinus in the first place was because your colleague, MC, had confided in you and asked for your help researching a rare energy source known as the Aether Core and the organization EVER.

She still can’t understand how you, her little sister, ended up dating Sylus. Now she finds herself constantly worried every time you step into the N109 Zone.

“And what about MC?” your sister asks, narrowing her eyes. “My sister made it sound like you were… interested in her.”

“I have no romantic feelings for MC,” Sylus answers evenly. “Consider her a business partner.”

Your sister studies him skeptically.

“Your dislike of me is valid,” Sylus admits calmly. “In fact, I’d be far more disappointed if you were indifferent.”

His gaze turns intense, unwavering.

“But no love is purer than mine,” he says, “and I swear I will keep your sister safe.”

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

CALEB (word count : 430)

You stand in front of the couch, brows furrowed, one foot tapping relentlessly against the wooden floor.

Your boyfriend, Caleb, and your older brother, Gideon, sit side by side in complete silence, looking like two guilty children being scolded by a parent.

Gideon presses a bloodied tissue to his nose, while Caleb holds an ice pack beneath his eye, where a dark bruise is already beginning to form.

When you came home, the last thing you expected to find was your boyfriend and your brother engaged in a full-blown fistfight.

“You two are unbelievable,” you snap.

“He started it,” Caleb mutters under his breath.

You shoot him a glare, and he immediately sinks farther into the couch.

“This has gotten completely out of hand,” you continue. “You’re supposed to be friends.”

“He stopped being my friend the moment he started dating you,” Gideon says, throwing Caleb a pointed side-eye.

Caleb and Gideon have been close for years. They met at the Aerospace Academy and later became DAA pilots together.

But ever since you and Caleb started dating a few months ago, things between them had been strained, to say the least.

“Friends don’t date their friends’ little sisters,” Gideon declares.

You roll your eyes.

“The punch you threw tells me this is about more than me dating your sister,” Caleb replies, lowering the ice pack. “What’s this really about, Gid?”

Gideon glances at you for a moment before looking back at Caleb. His shoulders sag as he lets out a long sigh.

“You spent years pining after MC,” he admits. “Longing for her. Hoping for something that never happened. So how am I supposed to know you’re not using my sister as a replacement?”

“As her big brother, it’s my job to protect her,” he adds.

Caleb slowly pushes himself to his feet.

“You’re right,” he says.

“Our childhood trauma and growing up together made me cling to MC in a way that blinded me. It wasn’t until I entered the Academy - until I had some distance from her and the chance to figure myself out - that I realized what I truly felt.”

Caleb turns to look at you. You give him a small, reassuring smile; the two of you have already had this conversation.

Caleb faces Gideon again and extends his hand.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says, flashing his signature boyish grin. “If I ever hurt Y/N or make her cry…”

“…you have my permission to beat the hell out of me.”

Gideon snorts a reluctant laugh. He takes Caleb’s outstretched hand and shakes it firmly.

“Deal.”

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

VALKO (word count : 376)

You sit beside your boyfriend, Valko, glaring at your sister across the booth.

She looks completely unbothered and utterly unapologetic.

“What were you thinking?” you huff.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?”

“It was just a prank,” your sister says with a shrug.

You and Valko had made plans to meet at one of your favorite restaurants, but when you arrived, you found your sister sitting there instead.

She is wearing your clothes, and her hair was styled exactly the way you usually wear it.

The two of you are identical twins - Mary Kate and Ashley identical - to the point where most people struggle to tell you apart.

Valko, however, had seen right through her, much to her disappointment.

Beside you, Valko lets out a quiet chuckle.

“I found it amusing.”

“Don’t encourage her,” you mutter.

“You’re not a prankster. What was your real motive?” you demand.

“It was a test,” she replies nonchalantly.

“I wanted to prove whether he’s good enough for you.”

You stare at her, mouth agape.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says.

“Your dating record is not exactly something to write home about. You always manage to pick the worst men.”

You can’t even argue with her because, unfortunately, she’s right. Years of terrible relationships have made your twin incredibly protective of you.

“And...,” she continues, turning her attention to Valko.

“...you broke up with your girlfriend of two years only a few weeks before you started dating my sister.”

You want to set the record straight and tell her that MC - your college upperclassman and Valko’s ex - isn’t nearly as innocent as she makes herself appear around campus, but it doesn’t feel like your place to say it.

Your sister crosses her arms and slumps back into her seat.

“Whatever,” she sighs.

“Seriously, though, how could you even tell us apart?”

Valko answers without hesitation.

“You may look identical, but your scents are different.”

“Scent?” She raises an eyebrow. “What are you… a dog?”

“A wolf, actually,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You immediately kick Valko under the table and shoot him a sharp warning look, silently telling him to shut up.

First, you need your sister to accept human Valko before you can even think about introducing her to wolf-hybrid Valko.

Author’s Note: I just wanted to say how grateful I am for every single request you guys send me. I genuinely love reasing your creative ideas. 😍

That said.. I never expected to receive so many. 😅 So if it takes me a while to get to your request, thank you for being patient with me. 🙏

I usually answer requests in the order I receive them (oldest to newest) because I think that's the fairest way to do it. However, sometimes a request is shorter, easier to write, or simply sparks inspiration in the moment, so I might post that one first even if it's a little out of order. 🫢

Please know that unless I send an answer declining your request, it will get written eventually. Thank you all so much for your support, your patience, and for trusting me with your ideas. ❤️

Tag list : @cordidy @thehyperfixationgirly

If you enjoyed this story, feel free to check out my other Love and Deepspace fanfiction.

[zayne-snowflake]

Can I request lads men reacting to fem! non mc reader telling him that she loves him too after he confessed to her but she admitted that she always thought he loved mc instead of her please?

lads men reacting to non mc confessing her feelings

pairing: fem!non mc reader x xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb, valko (all seperate)

warnings: none

a/n: of course! i think this is a pretty common concept in this community but i did my best to try to make my ideas/scenarios different so i hope i did a good job and you enjoy what i came up with.

xavier (word count: 981)

the rain wasn't supposed to happen. xavier had checked the weather earlier at least three times to be sure. he knew you liked walking home after spending time together instead of taking the quickest route back. he knew you liked stopping to look at little things—the glowing signs, and the stray cats hiding beneath storefronts.

so he had planned for it. or at least, he thought he had.

he had planned to tell you properly. not during some rushed moment between goodbyes. not with a half-hearted confession that left you wondering if he meant it. you deserved something special. something that showed you just how much you meant to him.

xavier had spent so long keeping his feelings hidden that he almost convinced himself he could keep doing it forever.

but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep himself in check. when he saw you in every crowd he wanted to protect you. when you met up after a busy week, he wanted to hug and kiss you until neither of you could breath properly. he remembered every little thing you said, even the things you didn't think mattered. when you spoke about a new trinket that came out that you wanted to buy. or a new episode of your favorite show that was so stupid he couldn't believe you watched it, but he would never judge you for it.

it had been so long since he felt something like this, and maybe that was why he was so afraid of saying it wrong.

but then the rain came. one moment, you were walking beside him, laughing about something that happened earlier. the next, the sky opened up, heavy drops soaking through your clothes faster than either of you could react.

"xavier," you laughed, covering your head with your hands, "i thought you checked the weather."

"i did," he replied, completely serious despite the situation. "clearly it was wrong."

that made you laugh even harder. and maybe that was why he did it. maybe he was tired of waiting for the perfect moment. maybe the perfect moment wasn't supposed to be some carefully planned evening under the stars. it wasn't some grand confession where everything went exactly right.

it was this. you, laughing in the rain and him, standing beside you, in a moment he never wanted to forget.

when you passed a narrow alleyway, xavier gently caught your hand and pulled you beneath the cover of the building, away from the downpour. he stared at you for a moment too long. his hand was still holding yours. there were so many things he wanted to say. so many ways he had imagined this conversation going. but when he opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was the truth.

"i like you"

xavier swallowed, his fingers tightening slightly around yours.

"no," he corrected himself quietly. "that's not enough."

the rain poured around you, filling the silence.

"i love you."

your heart jumped to your throat, and your breath caught.

"i've wanted to tell you for a long time," he continued. "i just… wanted to do it properly. you deserve that."

his gaze dropped for a moment, almost embarrassed. your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, because you had spent so much time thinking you already knew where his heart belonged.

you looked away. "xavier."

his expression changed immediately, worry flickering across his face.

"what's wrong?"

you hesitated, "i just thought…" you looked back at him. "i thought you loved her."

the words seemed to freeze the air between you.

"her?"

"mc."

xavier went completely still. you looked down at your intertwined hands.

"you're always so careful with her. you always notice when she needs help. you look at her like…" you paused, searching for the right words. "like she's someone important."

"she is," xavier said softly. "but not like that."

you looked up and xavier's expression was gentle, almost pained.

"she's my friend and my coworker. someone i care about."

"but you…" his thumb brushed over your hand. "you're different."

your eyes widened slightly. "i thought you were in love with her," you admitted. "so i never let myself hope."

xavier stared at you, almost disbelieving. "all this time?"

you gave a small nod and a quiet sadness crossed his face.

"i wish you had known."

"known what?"

"that every time i looked for someone…" he stepped a little closer brushing his hand on your cheek. "it was you."

"every time i wanted to tell someone something. every time i wanted to share a moment with someone. every time i wanted to come home after a long day and just be with someone…"

his voice softened, "it was always you."

the rain continued falling outside the alleyway, but neither of you noticed anymore.

"you really mean that?"

xavier gave you the smallest smile. "i wouldn't say it if i didn't."

for once, he wasn't hiding. no careful distance. no pretending his feelings were anything less. just the love he had been carrying quietly for so long.

you squeezed his hand, "i love you too."

for a moment, he simply stared at you, then his shoulders relaxed, like he had been holding his breath for far longer than either of you realized.

you stood, still holding his hand. "and...i've always wanted to do this."

before he could ask what you meant, you tugged him out from beneath the shelter of the alleyway. the rain immediately soaked you both again.

xavier stared at you, bewildered. "what are you—"

you pulled him closer by his hand and kissed him.

for a second, he didn't move. then his surprise melted away and his free hand found your waist, gently pulling you closer as the rain fell around you.

and maybe this wasn't the confession he had imagined. but standing there with you, hidden away from the rain, xavier decided it was better than perfect.

zayne (word count: 957)

zayne had always been careful. not because he doubted his feelings. that was the one thing he was certain about—he loved you.

the realization had come quietly. it was unfamiliar. he had spent years keeping his emotions controlled, placing logic above everything else. and then you came along and somehow made him want things he never thought he would. more time. more conversations. more moments like this. and yet still, zayne had hesitated.

he wanted to tell you when the time was right. when he could give you his full attention. when he wasn't distracted by work or exhaustion. but apparently, the perfect moment was sitting across from you in a quiet dessert shop after what he thought was very obviously a date.

you were laughing softly as you tried to decide which dessert to order, your eyes moving between the menu and the display case.

"you've been staring at that menu for five minutes," zayne noted.

you looked up, "i'm thinking."

"you said that three minutes ago."

"and i'm still thinking."

the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. a small smile. the kind he rarely showed anyone else.

eventually, you settled on a chocolate dessert you insisted you wanted to try. zayne watched as you took a bite, your expression immediately brightening.

"it's good," you said.

"i can tell."

"how?"

"you have a certain expression when you like something."

you turned your head, slightly confused "you notice things like that?"

zayne looked at you like the answer was obvious. like he might see right through you and know your true feelings. your heart fluttered, but you pushed the thought away, because zayne was like that. he noticed things. he cared. but that didn't mean anything.

not when you had always assumed his heart belonged elsewhere—mc. everyone knew how much zayne cared about her. how much history they shared. how naturally he looked out for her. it seemed like more than any normal doctor patient relationship.

you had long ago convinced yourself that whatever warmth he showed you was just who he was. kind and reliable, but not someone who cared about you.

you were distracted enough that you didn't notice the small smear of chocolate at the corner of your mouth. until zayne reached over. his thumb gently brushed against your skin, wiping it away.

the action was so natural that neither of you moved for a moment. zayne looked at the chocolate on his thumb, then back at you. and maybe it was because he had been waiting too long. maybe because he was tired of pretending he didn't want to say it.

"i love you."

your mind went completely blank. "what?"

zayne's expression remained calm, but there was a softness in his eyes that gave him away.

"i said i love you."

the world seemed to go quiet. "you're serious?"

"yes."

he said it so simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"i have been trying to find the right time to tell you."

you stared at him eyes wide. "you have?"

"yes."

then your voice came out quieter. "i thought…" you looked down. "i thought you loved mc."

zayne blinked rapidly, his mind trying to catch up to what you were implying.

"i mean…you two are close. you've always cared about her. i just figured…"

you trailed off and zayne looked genuinely confused.

"all this time…" he leaned back slightly. "what did you think we were doing?"

you looked up, "what?"

"this." he gestured between the two of you.

"these dinners. the time we spend together. the way i make time for you despite my schedule. the way i ask you to stay a little longer when you visit."

your face heated. "i thought we were hanging out"

zayne stared trying to hide a smirk. "hanging out...?"

you nodded slowly. "yeah. i mean friends hang out."

for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw zayne look genuinely speechless.

"you believed i spent all this time with you because we were simply friends?"

your cheeks were red as a tomato, showcasing your embarrassment. "when you say it like that, it sounds silly."

"i mean," he corrected, though the faintest hint of amusement appeared in his voice, "it is surprising."

you couldn't help but laugh. "i just didn't think someone like you would…"

"would what?"

you hesitated, "choose me."

the softness in zayne's expression changed. he reached across the table, taking your hand.

"listen to me. there was never a choice to make. my feelings for you are not something that happened because someone else wasn't available."

his thumb brushed gently against your knuckles.

"i chose you because you are you."

the words settled somewhere deep.

"and i love that you somehow managed to misunderstand an entire relationship we were having."

you laughed through the sudden tears in your eyes. "are you making fun of me?"

"a little. but mostly..." he continued, his voice softening, "i'm relieved."

"relieved?"

"yes."

he squeezed your hand. "because i was beginning to wonder if i needed to be more direct."

you smiled. "you probably still do."

"i see that now."

then, before you could say anything else, zayne leaned across the table. his hand gently cupped your cheek as he kissed you. it was soft and brief, almost tentative despite the certainty with which he had confessed his feelings.

when he pulled away, you stared at him, cheeks warm. zayne looked perfectly composed. his eyes flickered briefly back to your lips.

"you still had chocolate on your lips."

and maybe zayne still didn't understand how you could have mistaken his love for friendship. but he understood one thing. the person he had quietly chosen had chosen him too.

rafayel (word count: 896)

you had probably spent more time in rafayel's studio than you should have. at least, that was what thomas liked to remind you of.

"you know you're a distraction, right?"

he had said it with the exhausted expression of someone who had accepted defeat a long time ago.

you had only laughed. "a distraction?"

you looked toward the studio, where rafayel was supposed to be painting but was very obviously not painting. instead, he was watching you.

being in rafayel's studio had become normal. you would bring him food when he forgot to eat. he would complain about your choices while finishing every bite. you would sit on the couch while he painted, listening to him ramble about colors and ideas and whatever random thought had crossed his mind.

sometimes you wondered when it stopped feeling like just hanging out...but then you remembered. rafayel was like this with people. he was affectionate, playful and dramatic. he liked attention, and he gave it freely - especially to mc.

she was there often too. usually as his "bodyguard," though you were pretty sure everyone knew that was only half the reason. mc was kind. you liked her. she was easy to talk to, and you understood why rafayel trusted her.

but there was something about the two of them that you couldn't ignore. the familiarity between them. it made your heart sink in a way you never admitted. so you convinced yourself. rafayel liked mc. you were just someone who happened to spend a lot of time in his studio. someone who made his days a little less lonely. nothing more.

until the day you walked into his studio and found mc looking through one of his sketchbooks.

"hey," you said.

she looked up quickly and there was something strange about her expression.

"what?"

mc hesitated, then she turned the sketchbook toward you. your heart stopped. it was you. page after page. sitting on the studio floor while he painted. looking out the window. falling asleep on his couch. but it wasn't just the drawings. there were notes. little scribbles in rafayel's handwriting beside each one.

she smiled today when she thought i wasn't looking.

she told me she hates being cold but still gave me her jacket.

i think i like when she argues with me because it means she cares.

she makes this place feel less empty.

your fingers tightened around the edge of the page.

"rafayel wrote these?"

mc nodded slowly. "he never told you?"

before you could answer, a familiar voice came from behind you.

"what are you two doing?"

you turned and rafayel stood in the doorway, holding a few paintbrushes.

his expression shifted when he saw the sketchbook in your hands. his eyes widened. and for a rare moment, rafayel was speechless.

you looked at him a blush forming on your cheeks. "you drew all of these?"

he looked away, "well...i was going to explain."

"when?"

"when i found a way to make it less embarrassing."

mc turned on her heels "i'll give you lovebirds some space" she said

on her way out she gave you one last glance, shooting you a wink and tapping rafayel on the shoulder with a "good luck buddy."

you walked closer, planting the sketchbook in his hands

"i would like that explanation now."

rafayel was quiet for a moment. "i didn't want to forget."

his gaze dropped to the sketchbook then back to you.

"i never wanted to forget how you looked at me. or how you laughed at my jokes. or all the little things you did without realizing."

your heart ached. "rafayel…"

"i love you."

the room went still and his voice rang in your ears.

you stared back towards the door, "i thought you loved mc."

"you mean the girl that just left?"

you nodded, "i know it sounds stupid."

"it does."

you looked slightly offended

"i'm not saying you're stupid."

he crossed his arms.

"i'm saying i have spent months leaving extremely obvious evidence of my feelings in a sketchbook and somehow you still thought i was in love with someone else."

despite yourself, you laughed.

rafayel stepped closer. "she's important to me. but you…"

his voice lowered. "you're the person i want to show my paintings to first. you're the person who inspires me yet also gives me peace."

"you're the person who makes me want to stay."

the teasing disappeared completely.

"i should have told you."

"yes," you said, narrowing your eyes. "and you are lucky i love you too, or else i might have called you a stalker."

"me? a stalker?"

rafayel mocked offense then his lips formed into a smirk

"then you…"

his hands found your waist and you let out a surprised laugh as he pulled you closer, the sketchbook slipping from his hands and landing forgotten on the floor.

"…really are a distraction."

you rolled your eyes, "rafayel."

he smiled, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

"but you're my favorite one."

then he leaned in and kissed you. for once, rafayel didn't have anything clever to say. instead he used his actions to show just how sincere he felt. his hand remained gently at your waist as the kiss lingered, warm and sweet.

and just like that, the person who had spent so long painting his feelings into existence finally said them out loud.

sylus (word count: 915)

you still weren't entirely sure how you met sylus. you thought it was the music museum. at least, that was the first memory you could place. you had been looking at one of the exhibits when he appeared beside you, making some comment that was equal parts annoying and strangely interesting. you should have walked away and yet instead, you ended up talking. then sitting down, and somehow spending hours with a man you had only just met.

it was strange how easily conversation came with him. sylus had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. like every word you said was worth remembering.

and then, just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared. for a while, you heard nothing, and you assumed that was it. maybe you had misread everything. maybe the conversation, the laughter, the way he looked at you—it had all just been a passing moment for him.

you figured he had ghosted you. except he always came back. a message from him after weeks of silence. a gift sent without explanation. some small reminder that he was still thinking about you. sometimes it was something expensive. sometimes it was something oddly specific that made you wonder how he even knew you wanted it.

you could never bring yourself to ask. you weren't sure you wanted to know. because asking meant admitting you cared. and you did...more than you should have. especially when sylus did something that surprised you. he gave you access to his private social media. the one he barely shared with anyone.

at the time, you thought your heart might actually stop. but curiosity got the better of you. you looked through his tagged photos. you told yourself you were just curious. until you saw her. and you know what they say curiosity killed the cat.

it was a username you didn't recognize. the first photo was simple. two wine glasses sitting on a table. the next was two motorcycle helmets. your stomach dropped. oh, so that was it. you felt ridiculous. of course the mysterious man wasn't secretly interested in you. he had someone else. someone who had clearly been there before you.

you closed the app and told yourself you were fine. and maybe you were. until sylus asked you to dinner the next time he was in town, and you instantly said yes. because despite everything, you still wanted to see him. you hated that.

the dinner was easy. you laughed more than you expected. and for a few hours, you forgot about the photos entirely. until sylus set his glass down and looked at you.

"i have something to tell you."

your heart immediately tightened. you forced yourself to smile.

"that sounds serious."

"it is."

that caught you off guard. sylus was rarely serious with you.

"i have feelings for you."

your eyes went so wide you thought thy might pop out of your head, "come again?"

a small smirk appeared, "did you not hear me?"

he leaned in closer to you taking your hand but his lips brushed gently against your ear

"i said i like you."

you looked down, hand falling loosely from his grip. "i thought…you were seeing someone else."

his expression shifted back to serious. "someone else?"

"sylus, i saw the photos. the ones you were tagged in."

recognition crossed his face, and then, slowly, disbelief. "you thought those were romantic?"

your cheeks warmed. "to be honest the way you act i think any girl would come to that conclusion."

then he sighed. "you have an impressive ability to come to the wrong conclusion."

you frowned, "excuse me?"

"the wine glasses were from a business meeting."

"and the helmets? my friend's."

you looked away, feeling embarrassed. "i didn't know."

"no," sylus said quietly. "you didn't."

something about his voice made you look back. he wasn't teasing anymore.

"you really thought i was playing with you?"

"i didn't know what to think."

sylus was quiet for a moment. then he reached back across the table. gently placing a hand on your cheek.

"you think i would spend months remembering your preferences, sending you things that reminded me of you, and keeping a place for you in my life…because i was bored?"

you swallowed barely meeting his gaze. "i thought maybe you just liked having me around."

a faint, almost disbelieving laugh escaped him.

"you really don't understand."

"understand what?"

his eyes softened. "maybe that is my fault..."

you looked at him, slightly confused

"why?"

sylus's expression turned gentler. "because i might have lied before…"

your stomach dropped and before you could ask what he meant, sylus leaned across the table and his lips met yours slowly, giving you just enough time to realize what he was doing before the kiss deepened.

for a moment, you could only stare at him when he pulled away. on the other hand he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"i love you." his thumb brushed over your jaw. "do you believe me now?"

you laughed despite yourself, still stunned from the kiss.

"i could do with a bit more convincing."

his smile widened already leaning back in, "it would be my pleasure."

maybe sylus would always be difficult to understand. maybe he would always keep parts of himself hidden away. but now you knew something important. the person he kept coming back to wasn't because he had nowhere else to go. it was because you were where he wanted to be.

caleb (word count: 888)

you had known caleb for as long as you could remember. before complicated feelings and adulthood. before you understood that someone could become so important that the thought of losing them hurt. he had always just been there. the boy next door. your childhood friend. the person who would knock on your door without warning, drag you outside, and convince you to join him and mc on whatever adventure they had planned that day.

you grew up with both of them. you knew mc almost as well as you knew yourself. she was wonderful and everyone loved her. she was kind, warm, and effortlessly charming. people naturally gravitated toward her. especially caleb.

you watched the two of them together and quietly convinced yourself that it was inevitable. of course they would end up together. they understood each other. they were perfect. and maybe that was why you never said anything. because what would be the point? confessing would only make things awkward. worse, it could ruin everything. you couldn't risk losing caleb, and you couldn't risk hurting mc either. she was your friend. your family in every way that mattered. fighting over a boy, especially one you weren't even sure would choose you felt selfish.

so you did the only thing you could. you stayed throughout the years. you laughed with him. you supported him. you loved him quietly. you accepted being his friend because being in his life was better than not being in it at all.

years passed and nothing changed. until the day caleb asked you to go to an amusement park with him. just the two of you.

"it will be like old times." he said

you tried not to think too much about it, but it was easy to fall back into old habits. you shared snacks. you argued over which rides to go on. you laughed until your stomach hurt. for a while, you felt like you were kids again. except you weren't, and caleb wasn't looking at you the way he used to. but you still didn't let yourself believe it.

as the sun started setting, the two of you sat on a bench overlooking the park, as the lights flickered all around you.

"you know, i've been wanting to tell you something."

your heart immediately tightened. you looked over at him. "what?"

he was unusually quiet. that alone made you nervous.

"i like you."

the words didn't make sense. not because you didn't hear him, but because you had spent so long convincing yourself you would never hear them.

"you don't mean that..." you said quietly "i thought you liked mc."

the smile disappeared from his face. "mc?"

"you two have always been close."

"so have you and i."

you looked away, folding your arms. "that's different."

"why?"

how could you even begin to explain. because you were afraid. because you had built an entire future in your head where you stood beside him but never actually had him.

"i thought…" your voice got quieter. "i thought you and mc would end up together.”

caleb stared at you then he looked genuinely confused.

"wait. what? you thought i was going to marry mc?"

you looked embarrassed. "i mean…maybe?"

caleb laughed. not cruelly. just in disbelief.

"you've thought that this whole time?"

you nodded, hiding your face in your hands.

"shes literally like a sister to me. a really super annoying one."

your heart stopped. "caleb…"

he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy.

"i guess i should have told you sooner, because i never saw you as just my friend."

"you didn't?"

"no...you are the person i always imagined coming home to."

your eyes burned with tears as years of fear came tumbling down.

"i didn't want to ruin anything."

caleb reached for your hands giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"ruin what?"

"our friendship. my friendship with her. everything."

he was quiet for a moment then he gently nudged your shoulder.

"you really thought you had to compete with her?"

you didn't answer, because maybe you had. not because she had ever made you feel that way. but because you had decided she was someone caleb could never choose over.

caleb sighed. "you know what's funny?"

"what?”

"mc figured it out before i did."

you looked up at him in disbelief. "she did?"

"yeah." he smiled. "she told me i was an idiot and a coward."

you laughed. "that sounds like her."

the two of you sat there for a moment. the noise of the park surrounded you. the music. the laughter of families. the sound of people making memories.

"i don't want a future where you're just my friend." he intertwined your fingers. "i want you."

the words you had wanted for years. the words you never thought you would hear.

"you're sure?"

caleb smiled. that same boyish smile that you had always known and loved.

"i've known you my whole life." his thumb brushed against your hand. "i've been sure for longer than you realize."

caleb leaned closer then and kissed you. it was soft at first, almost hesitant. then you kissed him back with so much tenderness. pouring out all your unspoken words into this one shared feeling.

when you pulled away for breath his eyes dazed he asked. "so does that mean you love me too?"

valko (word count: 1,017)

the first thing you learned about being a werewolf was that instincts were powerful. however you also learned was that instincts did not always tell the whole story.

from the moment you and valko met, everyone knew. the moment you stood in front of him, the world seemed to settle into place. your wolf recognized him before you did. the bond was undeniable—a mate. that was what everyone called it.

your packs had whispered about it. your friends had teased you about it. even strangers could see it when you stood together—the way you naturally moved toward each other, the way your wolves responded, the way you seemed to understand things without speaking.

valko was your mate. it should have been enough. so why did you still feel uncertain?

the bond was easy to believe. the pull between you. the way nature itself seemed to insist that you belonged together.

but you had always wondered about something else. what if the bond disappeared? what if you weren't wolves? what if you were just two people who met under different circumstances? would he still choose you? would he still look at you the same way? or was this simply something neither of you had a choice in?

you never told anyone about your doubts. especially not valko. because how could you explain that the one thing everyone considered a blessing was the thing that made you hesitate?

if that wasn't enough there was something else or rather—someone else. mc. she had found out about valko. about your pack. about werewolves. she was a hunter, or something close to one, and everything you had been taught told you that someone like her should have been your enemy. yet valko worked with her. trusted her. put himself in danger beside her. you knew there were reasons for it. you knew valko didn't see her the way your people did. still, you couldn't stop wondering. would he still choose you? especially when he had already shown that he could make exceptions for someone like mc.

instead of sitting and dwelling on your thoughts another day, you went with him into the wilderness. a quiet afternoon away from both packs. no expectations. no whispers. just the two of you beside a lake, surrounded by trees and the sound of flowing water. valko always seemed more at peace in places like this. away from responsibilities. away from everyone watching.

you sat beside him near the edge of the water, watching the sunlight reflect across the surface.

after a moment, he spoke. "i've been waiting to tell you something. it's long overdue."

you looked over and his expression was serious. an expression that you didn't see often. you fumbled with your fingers in your lap.

"i love you."

the words hit harder than you expected.

"valko…"

he reached carefully for your hand. "i know, you're surprised."

"you know i could always sense your hesitation. i could smell the nervousness honestly."

your heart skipped and you looked away. because that was the problem. valko was always like this. always attentive. always gentle and patient.

you hesitated for a moment then decided you owed him the truth.

"i know we're mates."

your fingers tightened around his trying to ground yourself.

"i know our wolves chose each other. i know everyone says we were meant to be. but i've always wondered…"

you swallowed. "do you only love me because i'm your mate?"

the silence that followed felt heavy. not because he was angry, but because he finally understood after all this time what was holding you back.

valko moved closer wrapping his arm around your waist.

"is that what you've been afraid of?"

you didn't answer. you didn't need to. he could hear the way your heart rate picked up.

"i think you misunderstand something. the bond didn't make me love you."

he looked toward the lake. "when i first met you, yes, i felt it. the same thing everyone talks about."

then his gaze returned to you.

"but the bond didn't make me laugh at your jokes. it didn't make me remember how you take your tea. it didn't make me want to hear about your day, even when you tell stories that take twice as long because you keep getting distracted."

you lightly nudged him. he smiled before growing serious again. "the bond didn't make me admire you."

his voice softened. "it didn't make me love the person you are."

your eyes stung. "then why did you never say anything?"

valko looked surprised. "i thought you knew."

"how?"

"because i've chosen you every day."

the words settled between you.

"what about mc?" you didn't mean to ask but you had to know.

valko was quiet for a moment then he gently turned your hand over in his.

"mc is someone i respect. she's brave and strong. she's done things for my pack that i won't forget."

his expression softened. "but that doesn't mean i love her."

you sighed softly. of course there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his emotions. now you suddenly felt very embarrassed by your previous allegations.

"being mates gave me a reason to find you."

he lifted your hand placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. "but loving you is a choice i make."

the wind moved through the trees around you. your wolf was calm. but for once, so was your heart.

"you really mean that?"

valko smiled. "i would choose you without the bond. even if we were strangers."

he leaned closer. "because then i would get to fall in love with you all over again."

he kissed you gently, almost reverently, as though he wanted to remind you that this was his choice—not some instinct written into your blood. you melted into him, your hand curling into the front of his shirt as his lips lingered against yours.

for so long, you had wondered if fate was the only thing holding you together. but sitting there beside him, with his hand in yours, you finally understood. the bond may have brought you to him, but valko was the one who stayed.

© zayne-snowflake 2026 | please don’t repost as your own, translate, copy, or use my works to train ai ♡ comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[hirayalia]

say my name

fluff! laidback ceo! valko x flustered assistant! reader in a secret relationship.

aka just valko wanting you to call him by his name. inspired by the last scene of ‘i have a crush at work’ episode one.

with the clock reaching seven p.m., most of the office has clocked out for the day. with your position as the eoncore ceo’s assistant, your schedule runs a bit differently.

“sir?” you knock gently against his glass door. “i have the last reports for you to go through tonight.”

“come in.” he replies, and you push gently on the handle. he smiles, watching as you place the papers on the table before wrapping an arm around your waist, making you sit down on his lap.

“sir, we are still at work! what if someone sees?” you hit his chest as you attract to scramble out of his loving embrace.

“let them see. i need this.” he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“this is not work appropriate, sir.” you reply, trying to not show the joy in your voice as his nose grazes against the ticklish spot on your neck.

“it’s been two days since you let me be your boyfriend, peach. why won’t you call me anything apart from sir?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“it’s still new, this relationship stuff!” you huff, trying to not show your flustered state.

“i understand. you’re absolutely adorable, peach.” he rubs small circles against your hip.

“can you let go now? i would like to get some sleep within the next hour or so.” he shakes his head, teasingly tightening his grip around you.

“not until you give me a kiss first.” your boyfriend gives you his best puppy eyes.

“now this is very inappropriate. i can see us attending a hr meeting in the distant future.” you look out from his glass office, wary of anyone walking in.

a warm hand leaves your side. valko fidgets with a remote, and his office is no longer visible to the outside world. the only thing you can focus on is valko.

“may i have a kiss now?” he asks. you give in, realising your boyfriend really needs this kiss.

you nod, gently closing your eyes. instead of his soft lips on yours, you come into contact with soft skin. confused, you open your eyes to see valko’s hand separating you from him.

“i thought you wanted—”

“call me by my name, peach.” he asks.

“wolfie please, let me kiss you.” you whine, the wait making you frustrated.

“that's not my name, baby.” he waits, and suddenly you become the desperate one.

“v-val.” he nods, waiting for you to finish. “valko.”

“i have waited so long for this day. thank you, peach.” he cups your cheek, you feel sweet relief as his lips melt into yours.

taglist: @snowypi @starkissedxav @mrsqins @jellyelle @violasepals @xinghuisknight @shionsunny @txtworlddom @erenophilic @vxnillabxn @maimaily @thealunari @xaviersmeowjesty @spacekittiesmeow @berrylus

[zaynezone]

Zayne putting you on an orgasm ban for disobeying him. Orgasm not sex, and he's gotten extremely well at telling when you're about to cum so there truly are no slip ups. You're desperate, the sex wears you out but without properly getting off you're just pent up. Tossing and turning all night, waking up grumpy and groggy in the mornings.

Zayne starts to feel bad by the end of the week. Seeing the dark circles under your eyes, the frown that seems constantly etched into your face. He can't help but feel he's tortured you enough. But you're mad at him, genuinely mad because his little punishment really did make your week absolutely hellish. Now, instead of giving you what you want, Zayne finds himself on his knees, begging you to forgive him...

this is such a fantasy of mine how do you do this

At first, he's having FUN! You're so pouty and whiny and his cock always twitches when tears spill down your face as you plead to cum, just one PLEASE, it isn't fair!! He just loves it.

The guilt starts to gnaw at him at night, every night really, hearing you squirm and try to sleep despite the throbbing between your legs. You can't even bear to cuddle with him because any touch drives you insane. He feels REALLY bad in the morning, watching you have way more caffeine than usual and come out of the shower shivering in an attempt to quell the need.

And then when he finally gives in and says you can cum? You nearly cuss him out!! Which he won't pretend doesn't turn him on but he's so guilt ridden at this point he literally pleads on his knees to eat you out, just to see you smile