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Tw. Insecure/bratty/tsundere reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, obsession, sloppy blowjob, attempted breakup, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, multiple creampies, cunnilingus, baby trapping, coercion, aftercare

***

Thinking about dating an angelic guy.

You always wonder why, out of all the pretty and influential girls chasing after him, he chose you. It doesn't help how of a unit he is. Your typical perfect guy, popular, rich, and body that's comparable to a Greek God... and his voice— how you love his gentle and warm voice, there's just something about it that hypnotize you.

He always compliments you, shower you with affection, and be an absolute sweetheart. It gets you pissy. You don't know why you're always in a foul mood around him, he's not even doing anything that could trigger you. He takes a breath and you're already fuming. Grumbling profanities that he would laugh at wholeheartedly, like you didn't curse his entire being.

You hate how perfect he is. Hate how much you adore him. Hate how much you love him, and inside your mind you always question if he genuinely loves you. Maybe he's just playing with you? Waiting for the day he'd humiliate you, telling how you're too idiotic to even believe someone like him could ever love you.

That's probably why you're always cautious around him, you don't believe him enough to love an average girl like you.

szarina

Hii, I loved all of your works, especially the Yandere Zayne one, and I was wondering what if Zayne suddenly woke up, and realises it was just a dream, he hadn't been assigned as mc's doctor, and yn was not scared of him yet. I kinda think if he was in that position, he would love to gently push her into his life, this time more naturally

₊°｡❆ what dreams are made of

content warnings. angsty + implied noncon + heart of glass references.

Dreams came vivid for him.

A monster trying to claw at him. Screeching as they raised their mangy hands. Thirsty for his blood and with a flick of his hands. The monster were gone. The air's cold and misty as the tiny snowflakes descended in the ground and some melting on his palm.

Some of his dreams consists of the happy days with her. Stargazing in a summer night. Sticky hands from melted ice cream. Snowballs mayhem from when the chubby seals in the aquarium decided to toss them. The sound of her laughter bright as the day in his dreams.

But not all was filled with the warm memories of her. He remembers hurting her. Lying unconscious in the hospital bed as his Evol has gone out of control. That scared him more than anything else and until now, when years has passed and the osmanthus trees blooms again — it still haunts him.

Then came the piano keys ringing into a sweet melody. In the hallways were music are abundant. A blue torn ribbon stuck in the music sheets. Another girl came into his dream. He knows they didn't talk much like him. Polite greetings and smiles and sometimes a little mischief.

A smear of mud caking in their round cheeks. A hand reaching out for him to give him a ball of chocolate and in which he puts them in the pocket of his button shirt. The girl who will be telling him it was their little secret and he will soon learn that you're going to be his fiancée. Promised to him after surviving the cruelty of the womb that refused to birth her.

As if a reel from an old film that keeps rolling transitions to a future that is yet to exist. It was living in a nightmare. There he saw a car in the middle of the road. The hood crushed like a can while a nearby car is flipped in the side.

Behind the steering wheels, he saw you. Unconscious and bleeding. Multiple lacerations in your face and he knows there's more underneath your lower half. He desperately reaches out for you. A doctor administrating first aid but his feet won't move. He can only watch as you waited for someone to get you out.

He realizes he learned love too late for you. It only took of what they call a miracle for surviving that car crash. The argument resurfaced. The look in your face as you plead for him not to take you as someone that is stupid and not be so obvious as being treated as an obligation.

He saw pieces of what comes later after your accident. You were recovering at his house. The shared meals and the small talks. Trying to get closer to you but you remained firm. Distance grew and fed up with the sudden tenderness. Courage was never something you did growing up and when it came, it was full of hurt and the resignation of being so overlooked for so long that you start to fade.

You confessed — tearfully. All the hurt that came with loving him and what embers left of being able to bask in the presence of someone that you loved and then, you were breaking things with him. An act of love must never continue when you're hurting and it was the time to let go.

He never accepted it. For someone who can easily grasp situations, he never prepared for this one. Something twists and cracks inside him. His gaze darkened and the blood coursing through his veins burns hotly and without a second thought. No conscience running in his mind.

He did the unthinkable.

The late affection that you hoped for a long time came into fruition. A marriage and bore the twins that you resented and loved.

His dreams came into tangle. Skipping into scenes. A reel tangling and all he saw was your face. Tired and worn out while your cradle the babies that he forced on you. Your face stained with tears and repeatedly asking the question — why? Why Zayne?

Your voice grew louder and louder and he woke up.

Same ceilings, same bed.

The nightmares you lived with him. Crying and voiceless. Reduced to a body that only meant to bear his children. His selfishness brought you to this. His need of wanting you to stay for the love that came too late. The act of redemption filled with resentment and the trust that he can never have back.

He betrayed you.

Of all the people he could have done that he choose you even it was a dream. A dream. It's only a dream but it feels too real that his body felt it too. Is this the future that's been waiting for you and him? A future where he had hurt you.

He remains still in his cold bed. The sun light barely cracks through his curtains. If that was the future that awaits for you. He needs to stop it. Prevent it from happening. He could never lay a hand on you. He doesn't need to add the cruelty in your world. It was enough.

The phone in his bedside table vibrates. It could be the hospital but it was you.

۶۟ৎ: good morning, zayne. are you available for lunch?

His face softened and was followed by the look of guilt. It's always like this, always you who tried to connect with him. If it took you years and waited for that accident to happen to break things with him, he was an absolute prick.

Letting his fiancée, the one he's supposed to protect and love diminish herself of something lower.

He quickly types that he's going to pick you up for lunch. It's the bare minimum and he knows you deserve more but it's the start of making things right.

He didn't mean to but he did. The sight of you alive and bright and smiling at him made him want to kill himself at the spot cause why he would that to you in that dream.

“Zayne? Are you sick?” He hears you asking. Your voice muffled at his chest and you weakly returned the hug. Gentle tapping his back.

“No.” He answers. For the first time he touches you. Studies your face that he almost forgot how to care and protect. Staring at the eyes of you who trusts him so much. Putting so much faith in him that you sometimes forgot how to be you.

“Did something happen?” You ask again cause he knows this was a first for you. Your stoic fiancé who barely cracks a smile at you shows the first of affection let alone a hug.

He didn't say anything as he wraps his arms around you. Kissing the top of your head as he breathes in your scent. Tears almost pooling at the corner of his eyes cause you didn't deserve what happened in that dream. He can't let the world be cruel to someone as gentle as you.

He wants to apologize. For all the things including that didn't happen. “I will protect you.” Including from himself.

He swears it will be right this time.

dark-night-hero

Imagine being prince! Caleb arranged marriage spouse.

Imagine you were not meant to be part of his story. That was the truth you learned the day your engagement was announced. When the palace bells rang too loudly, when the court smiled too widely, and when Caleb looked at you with eyes already full of someone else.

Imagine the way he told you on the morning of your wedding, not cruelly. Not dramatically. Just… Honestly. "My heart already belongs to another." You remember how still you felt. How calm. How something in you settled, as if you had already known long before he said it out loud.

Imagine you loved him anyway. Loved him the moment you first saw him at that ball five years ago, crowned in gold and light, laughter easy on his lips, eyes sharp but kind. Had you known then that his heart was promised, that his soul was already entwined with his childhood sweetheart, you would have looked away.

but Imagine love does not ask permission. And regret does not undo what has already rooted itself inside you.

so Imagine you made a choice. That you would never reach for what was never yours. You stood where you were placed, at his side when the court watched, a step behind when they didn't. You smiled when required, spoke when necessary, and vanished quietly whenever he sought her. You learned the art of absence. Learned how to be present without being intrusive.

Imagine you told yourself you were the villain in their fairytale. The foreign noble who arrived too late. The political necessity. The obstacle no one asked for. And perhaps that was true. But you were also necessary.

because Imagine your marriage secured alliances, calmed borders, strengthened his claim to the throne. You were not loved, but you were needed. And Caleb, for all his honesty, could never deny that.

Imagine at first, he was cold. Not unkind. Just distant. Careful. He made sure you understood that nothing would ever change. That no vow, no title, no shared bed would ever make him look at you the way he looked at her. He said it plainly, as if repeating it often enough would make it kinder. And you accepted it.

because Imagine even then, in a way that hurt to admit, you were still his. Not his heart. Not his first choice. But his spouse. By law. By duty. By fate's cruel sense of timing.

Imagine the way something shifted. Not love. Not yet. Trust.

Imagine you had became the person he turned to when council meetings stretched too long, when letters from the capital soured his mood, when sleepless nights drove him back to his study. You listened. You advised. You fought beside him, politically, strategically, silently.

Imagine the way he stopped treating you like a stranger. He started treating you like an ally.

Imagine you rode with him once a month, horses thundering side by side through open fields where titles meant nothing. You sat through weekly councils, speaking only when your voice would matter. You shared late night conversations, candles burning low as the world slept outside his chambers.

Imagine he was still careful. Still guarded. But warmer. And that frightened you more than his coldness ever did.

Imagine then you met her, MC. She was everything the stories promised. Kind. Elegant. Beautiful in a way that did not demand attention but received it anyway. She smiled at you gently, spoke to you politely, and loved Caleb with a sincerity that was impossible to resent.

Imagine you understood him then. Truly. And you understood why the world saw you as the other woman, even when you had never once tried to be. But sometimes, you caught something in her eyes. A flicker. Resentment. Envy. You never understood it. Because she had his heart. Entirely. What more could she fear?

Imagine you never crossed the line. Even when she paired you together. Even when the court whispered. Even when your own feelings grew heavier with each passing day. You saw how she looked at him. And how he looked back. You understood then why the court whispered about you like you were something shameful. And if you had been in their place, you would have whispered too.

so Imagine you never crossed the line. Even when Caleb began to rely on you. Even when he started coming to you first, not to confess love, but to confess exhaustion. Doubt. Anger he couldn't voice anywhere else. You listened. You advised. You stayed up late with him in his study, pretending not to notice how comfortable he had become with you.

Imagine you knew he still loved her. That was the rule. And rules mattered to him. And you were afraid of misreading it. So you stood still. Not moving forward. Not stepping back. Just existing between what was allowed and what was impossible.

then Imagine, the rebellion came. Fire and steel and betrayal in the dead of night. Plans scattered. Screams echoing through stone corridors. You stood with his vassals, mapping strategies, relaying orders until the message arrived like a blade to the chest.

Imagine MC had been taken. A bargaining piece. A demand for his surrender. You went with him without hesitation. A fighter, a hunter, a necessity, just like always.

Imagine you don't notice the blood at first. You notice the heat in your forearms, the way your muscles are burning so hard it feels like something is tearing inside them. You notice how your fingers don't quite feel like they belong to you anymore, how the stone beneath your hands is slick in a way it wasn't seconds ago.

Imagine, MC's body is heavy. Heavier than you expect. Unconscious bodies always are. They don't help. They don't brace. They don't understand when you shift your grip and whisper under your breath, please, please, like the cliff might listen.

Imagine the way your chest aches. Each breath scrapes shallow and sharp, like your lungs can't quite expand all the way. Your arms are shaking now, not the kind of trembling you can fight, but the small, betraying kind that means your strength is already running out.

Imaginr if you let go, even for a heartbeat, you'll both fall. So you press your fingers harder into the rock. Your skin gives way. You feel it split, feel warmth smear beneath your palms, but pain barely registers anymore. Pain is distant. Secondary. Keeping her from slipping isn't.

Imagine the way hou hear the battle behind you, steel striking steel, men shouting, someone screaming a name that doesn't matter. None of it feels real. The only real thing is the edge digging into your ribs and the weight dragging you forward, inch by inch.

then Imagine came the footsteps. Fast. Uneven. Caleb.

Imagine the way he drops beside you so hard the ground shifts beneath his knees. For one small, shameful moment, relief floods your body so violently your grip almost fails right then. He looks ruined, cheeks smeared with blood and dirt, hair stuck to his face with sweat, one eye swelling shut. His clothes are torn like he barely survived getting here at all.

"You- Don't move." He says, breathless. His voice cracks. "I've got you." You shake your head. Not because you're brave. Because you know your limits. "She's slipping." You say, and your voice comes out wrong, too calm, too steady, like it belongs to someone already resigned. "Take her first."

Imagine the way his eyes flick from your face to MC's limp body. He hesitates. It was barely a second. But your body feels everything. The weight shifts. MC's body pulls harder. Your fingers slide just a fraction, skin screaming as the rock grinds deeper into raw flesh. Your arms spasm violently now, a sharp jolt of pain tearing through your shoulders.

Imagine your vision blurs at the edges. You don't have much time left. "Please." You whisper. Its not a plea to be saved. It's an admission. He swears and lunges for her, hauling with everything he has. MC's body scrapes against the cliff, fabric tearing, her head lolling uselessly. For a terrible second you think she'll slip back down, that this will all be for nothing, then the weight leaves your arm.

and Imagine so suddenly your body jolts forward, chest slamming into the edge as your grip almost gives out entirely. Black spots burst across your vision. She's up. She's breathing. That relief is so intense it makes you dizzy. And that's when your fingers finally fail.

Imagine it was not dramatic. They don't just open. They slide. Slow, horrifying inches as blood and sweat betray you, as skin meets smooth stone and finds nothing to hold onto. Your heart stutters painfully in your chest.

and Imagine Caleb turns back immediately. He doesn't think. Doesn't hesitate. He just reaches. His hand closes around your wrist, warm, solid, familiar in a way that makes your throat tighten painfully. His grip is strong, desperate, anchoring.

"I've got you." He says again, louder now. Panicked. Fractured. Like he's trying to convince himself as much as you. For a moment, you’re suspended. Not falling. Not safe.

Imagine you were just hanging there, your entire body screaming, your arms numb and burning all at once. Your wrist throbs where he holds you, pain and comfort tangled together so tightly you can't tell them apart.

Imagine the way your body reacts before your mind can stop it. You relax. Just a little. Because it's him. Because you've trusted him for years. Because your body remembers safety in his hands, even when your heart knows better.

and Imagine in that tiny, fatal release, you understand something with terrible clarity. If he pulls you up, nothing will ever be the same. You will live. And keep standing between him and the life he thinks he owes someone else. You will keep loving him quietly, painfully, invisibly.

Imagine you look up at him. Really look. His face is twisted with fear, eyes wide and raw in a way you've never seen before, like something precious is slipping away and he's only just realized what it was worth.

and Imagine instead of panic, something inside you goes still. Calm settles over you, heavy and final. You smile. Not bravely. Not reassuringly. Content. Like someone finally laying down a weight they’ve been carrying for far too long. Like someone who has already made peace with the ending.

Imagine you don't want him to remember you begging. You don't want him to remember you terrified. You want him to remember this. That you were okay. That you chose this. That you let him go. "It's okay." You tell him softly, your voice barely audible over the wind. "You don't have to choose."

then Imagine there was a sudden, sharp sound, wet and wrong. His arm jerks violently. You feel it immediately, the way his grip spasms, the way his fingers lose strength without his permission. You see his face change, pain flashing through it, horror following close behind.

Imagine his hand slips. And then there is nothing beneath you. The air rushes up to meet you, cold and violent, tearing the breath from your lungs as your stomach drops. The cliff pulls away above you, shrinking rapidly.

Imagine the way time stretches. You see everything. The way his eyes widen impossibly. The way his mouth opens around your name. The way shock, fear, regret, and realization crash over his face all at once.

and Imagine, you keep smiling. Because this is the last thing you can give him. Because if he remembers you like this, calm, accepting, already letting him go. Then maybe he won't chase you into the dark.

so Imagine as the wind roars past your ears. The water rises fast. And then nothing at all.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

:I miss PH, but I do enjoy TH :((((( I'm so sad and suffering nowadays so I shall share my pain with you guys, sorry. I have a morning shift tom.

: this started with me daydreaming the cliff scene otw to OJT at 4am in the morning and this has been on my mind the whole day :/// PS. Sleepy as fuck so apologies if it's quite messed up.

yunyuu

♡ . 𝓪 𝓜𝓪𝓷 𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓢𝓵𝓪𝓹

❜❀⠀˙⠀yandere love and deepspace x fem!reader

the worst thing they have done to you.⠀(❁ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)⠀˚

⤷ ♡ XAVIER :

He had loved you too much to let you walk away.

So he made sure you couldn’t.

The sound of bone breaking had been so sharp, like a violin string snapping in the silence of a hall. Your scream rose with it, jagged and raw, but Xavier had only tightened his grip, his face wet with tears.

“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your hair even as you shook under him. “I’ll fix it. You’ll see. I’ll fix everything.”

But he didn’t fix. He ruined.

Your legs folded in wrong angles now, twisted beneath you like broken wings. He carried you after that — everywhere. To the garden, to the table, to the bed. His arms were both cradle and cage.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured every night, kissing the scars where your bones had betrayed you. “You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to leave me. We’re one body now — I’ll be your legs.”

And when you cried, he kissed the tears from your cheeks, tasting salt and despair as though it were communion wine.

⤷ ♡ RAFAYEL :

Jealousy came on him like fever.

The room smelled of roses, sweet and suffocating, and Rafayel’s hands trembled as he pressed you against the wall. His knife glinted under the light, not elegant in that moment, but desperate, sharp as his breath.

“You smiled at him,” he hissed, voice breaking. “You let him have what’s mine.”

You begged, voice shattering in the air, but he didn’t hear. Or maybe he didn’t want to. His hand pressed flat against your chest, over your heartbeat, and with the other he carved.

Letters.

Crooked, jagged letters.

His name.

R A F A Y E L

Blood welled up like crushed berries, staining his fingers. Your body convulsed, but his face… his face was serene. Almost holy.

When he finished, he pressed his lips to the wound, kissing each letter as though sanctifying it, painting his devotion into your skin.

“Now you’ll never forget,” he whispered, voice shaking with a manic kind of joy. “Even if you try to leave me, even if you look at another man, they’ll see. They’ll all see. You belong to me. Forever.”

⤷ ♡ ZAYNE :

tw. lobotomy

It wasn’t violence in the way you expected.

It was tenderness. It was surgical. It was quiet.

The smell of antiseptic lingered in the room, sharp enough to burn your throat. You were strapped to the chair, wrists raw against leather cuffs, while Zayne stood over you with calm, detached precision. His eyes were full of something worse than rage — conviction.

“You think too much,” he murmured, brushing your hair back, his hand shaking with gentleness. “All that doubt… all that fear. I can take it away. I can give you peace.”

The drill whined. The sound was insectile, gnawing at your skull before it even touched you. And when it did — oh, when it did — your vision split in lightning. Pain screamed through bone and blood, your body thrashing against its own prison.

But Zayne only shushed you, whispering like a lover.

“You’ll thank me,” he said, tears streaking his cheeks as bone dust speckled his gloves. “You’ll be happy. You’ll love me without fear, without hate. Just love. Only love.”

And when the world dimmed, when pieces of you were hollowed out, you felt him press a kiss to your temple, his lips wet with blood and devotion.

“I’ve freed you,” he whispered. “Now you’re mine completely.”

⤷ ♡ SYLUS :

He didn’t hurt you directly. Not at first.

He hurt everyone around you.

It began with whispers — small rumors at first, thin and weightless, like the fluttering of moth wings. But when you woke the next morning, your friend was gone. Their apartment ransacked, no sign of struggle, nothing but an empty room and the smell of blood that lingered in the walls.

You tried to scream, tried to run, but each time you reached out for someone, they were taken. Your family. Your friends. One by one. The world began to shrink — empty. Hollow.

Sylus watched, always from a distance. His eyes never wavered. He knew. He always knew. And when your last remaining ties to the world were cut — when there was no one left but him — he came to you.

He wrapped you in his arms like a shroud. You could feel his smile against your neck, feel his breath in your hair, and you knew. This is love. This is devotion.

“I’ve made you mine,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a purr of satisfaction. “No one can take you from me. Not even you.”

You couldn’t run. There was no one left to run to. He had erased every trace of your old life. And now, you were his, body and soul.

“You’ll see,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the scars where your heart had once beat for others. “Without them, you’ll have no choice but to love me.”

⤷ ♡ CALEB :

The cage was too beautiful to be a cage.

The velvet-lined walls were soft, the plushies scattered around like a child's dream, the delicate scent of lavender and rosewater filling the air. The cage wasn’t a cage. Not really. It was a sanctuary. Caleb had made sure of that.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Pipsqueak?” he asked, his voice soft and low, like he was whispering to a pet. His smile was warm, so warm, as he placed the last stuffed bunny beside you. “I’ve made it just for you. You’ll be safe here.”

It felt wrong. The plushies. The flowers. The golden bars that were somehow still just bars — no matter how gilded they were. Caleb’s hands were always gentle, always careful. He fed you, bathed you, brushed your hair, and held you when you cried. He was perfect. So perfect.

But it never stopped.

Every action, every smile, was a reminder that he never really cared about what you wanted.

You hated the cage. You hated the feeling of being kept. But every time you tried to pull away, Caleb only kissed your forehead, wiped away your tears, and held you closer. His fingers slid into your hair, threading through with a softness that made your skin crawl.

“Shh, don’t be scared,” he whispered as he stroked your cheek. “I only want what’s best for you. I’m giving you everything you need.”

But you didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. The world outside, the life you had before — it was all gone. Nothing was left but the plush walls and Caleb’s soft, gentle hand, pulling you deeper into the trap of his love.

It wasn’t love.

It was control.

And you were trapped.

do not repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on any platforms. thank you for reading :)

ytmkiz

sienna by the marias , rafayel x non!mc reader

master list . part one . part two . part three

“and i’ll watch the sunset wearing all your clothes.”

he’s finally coming to terms with this new reality – a reality where you’re no longer in his life, you’re probably never coming back. he has to stop hoping you’ll come back.

it doesn't stop him from missing you, much less loving you.

he hears of your success in the art world from thomas, sometimes from his bodyguard. moments where hordes of fans wait in line to see your work, compliments showered towards you for your skills, your remarkable ability to freeze time in the form of a photo.

he, for one, had thought about visiting your exhibits once or twice to see everything for himself. that is, if you hadn’t moved to skyhaven, of all places.

he still keeps your polaroids scattered throughout his home, and on nights where the silence was too loud, he'd revisit your photo album. he’d stare at each photo for hours, not only imagining how you saw the world, but how so in love with him you were.

he was so blinded by destiny – the very concept of it. it was engraved in the bond they shared; it was all he’d ever known.

and at the time, he didn’t have the heart to admit the possibility of loving you, too.

maybe even more than his beloved. but now it’s cost him.

he’s playing the role all over again, but now it's not her he longs for. it’s you.

he’s frightened at the thought of forgetting your smile – your eyes. the way you laughed, the way your warmth enveloped him on nights where the pain of losing lemuria became too overbearing.

the way your eyes sparkled like diamonds when he promised he'd watch every single sunset with you.

if he saw you now, would it be too soon? would you reject him? ignore him? pretend that he didn’t exist?

you must hate him.

he hates himself for what he did you.

“i can feel you with me like i did before."

you’re dressed in a flowing white dress by the water, looking back at him, smiling like you did before.

he sees something nestled soundly in your arms, but he can't make it out clearly. it’s too hard to distinguish from where he stands.

something in him calls to walk towards you slowly, yet he hesitates, fearing that if he gets any nearer, you’ll vanish.

maybe you’ll disappear into the ocean and escape his grasp forever. and he’ll be stuck back in the abyss.

but a few more steps in your direction, you don’t move, still keeping that soft, darling smile he’s yearned for months on your face.

and your eyes – those eyes he adores – are so full of joy. there are tears in your eyes, but they’re not from sadness.

“look rafayel.” your voice is as soft as he remembers.

his eyes follow the tender curve of your arms, and that’s when he sees her.

a baby.

a little girl.

soft waves that resemble the same shade as yours falling around her tiny face. a button nose, eyes closed, decorated in lemurian attire as if she was born already belonging to the sea.

you whisper her awake, causing her to fuss for just a moment before your gentle voice soothes her. “it’s okay, baby, mommy’s here.”

slowly, you lift her upright, turning her toward the young sea god in front of you.

she stirs for just a second, then tilts her head with curiosity so pure, as though she’s studying the figure in front of her.

and when he finally gazes upon her, eyes catching his, he feels the world stop and something in him break.

soft, round eyes that mirrored the break of dawn. where the sun meets the ocean, just like his own.

and then a smile.

she was simply love incarnated.

his heart races, each beat pounding against his ribs so hard it hurts as the realization hits him. he can’t take it, faltering to the ground, knees giving in.

fingers grasping at the end of your dress, he holds on to it as if it were a lifeline.

he locks his gaze on you. only you.

“is she-,” the lump in his throat causes his voice to break. “is she ours?”

you nod, reaching down to grab his trembling hand, guiding him back to his feet.

now standing, you rest your forehead on his, a small giggle escaping you through the tears. “yeah, she’s ours.”

his own tears spill now, the weight of it all too much to keep in after your confirmation.

heart so full, love for you fully realized, he’s ready to devote his entire being to you – the one he adores most in this lifetime.

“look sienna,” he hears you say, watching as her tiny hand instinctively curls around your finger, you guide her gaze to look at rafayel once more, “it’s daddy.”

when he wakes up, there are tears in his eyes, and his chest is in sharp pain.

looking down at the source of his pain, he sees the bond he once shared with his beloved is no longer glowing a bright red.

no.

it’s glowing a different color – your favorite color.

and it was all just a dream.

“i’ll wait here tomorrow, outside your door.”

it’s a cold december day when rafayel involuntarily finds himself walking towards the hidden area of whitesand beach, an area that belonged only to you.

he remembers how happy you were, how you clung to his arms with the brightest smile on your face as you saw the cave, the crystal clear water washing over your feet, the glittering sand that you swore held diamonds in them.

he loved how much you enjoyed the beach, the ocean, all marine life; how woven it all was into your soul.

he’d never forget the expression you made as he kissed you before dragging you underwater, not even giving you an explanation.

where you had kicked and screamed thinking he was trying to drown you, all he could do was laugh as he held your hand, venturing deeper into the ocean's depths, becoming quiet as you realized the ruins before you were those of lemuria.

your eyes had glistened when he gifted you a decorated conch shell that belonged to a priestess.

you gleamed with giggles as he commanded the fish around you to kiss your fingertips.

you were amazed at the speed of the fantasia shark you rode on and how gentle its soul was, realizing it was the very last of its kind.

he hasn’t visited this part of whitesand beach in so long. and those memories resurfacing – haunting him – don't help.

but as he nears, the crashing waves from the shore soothe him.

there was no other soul on the beach, especially not this early in the morning, and the area here is considered hidden for a reason. it’s not a place where tourists venture, nor where locals visit for some quiet time.

and yet, the laughter of a young girl confuses him.

he hears her before he sees her, saying something to the crabs she’s chasing away.

the curls on her head flow wildly with the sea breeze, and he sees she’s wearing a thick sweater wrapped around her to combat the cold, but he notices how soaked her wetsuit is near her feet, indicating that she’s been splashing through the water.

she’s attempting to reach the sand crab before it escapes her, but she’s too late as it buries itself in the sand next to rafayel’s foot.

she finally notices the man in front of her, little toddler eyes looking up to him in curiosity.

that’s when the realization sets in.

her eyes.

the same eyes from his dreams.

so familiar.

and he sees you in her.

he doesn’t want to believe it, because what if he’s wrong?

what if this is another dream, another illusion? his mind whispers to him.

“hello.” said so innocently, it breaks him out of his thoughts.

“hi baby.” he tells her, crouching down to reach her eye level. “what are you doing here all by yourself?”

she doesn’t reply, instead pointing to the crabs scattered throughout the sand.

“do you want one for yourself?” he asks her.

she nods.

he picks one off the ground, blowing off the excess sand, and hands it to her, giggling from the way it scrambles to try and escape her grasp.

“now reddie has a friend!” she says.

“reddie?”

“it’s my mommy’s fishie, i’ll show you. wait here!” the little girl runs off before he’s able to process her words.

and after a moment, she appears from the rock structure ahead of him. her smile reaching ear to ear – it’s too familiar.

standing in front of him, she holds up the fish in the small container for him to see.

a red flammula, just like the one he gifted-

“see, it’s reddie.” she breaks through his thoughts once again, her eyes capturing his own. “he likes it when i sing songs to him, wanna hear?”

he shakes his head. “i think you should take reddie back to your mom, sweetheart, you don’t want her to miss him too much, right?

she doesn’t reply, only nodding before she runs off to where she appeared from. but the itching, the desire to follow consumes him.

he can’t let himself hope too much, can’t let a few coincidences grant him hope.

after a few minutes, the little toddler doesn’t return, and in defeat, he takes a seat on the sand, watching the waves crash onto shore, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

a few minutes turn into an hour, and he remains unmoving until he hears her laughter, that same smile from before still on her face.

“mister, look!” she points behind him, he hadn’t realized a group of sea turtles were hatching, navigating their way to the sea in front of them.

“what are those? where are they going?” she asks.

he explains it to her, but he can tell through her confusion that she doesn’t understand.

not until she follows him as they journey farther down the shore, where they find an injured baby sea turtle.

it’s struggling, unable to proceed with migrating.

“why isn’t it moving? is he hurt?”

“yes.”

“is he going to die?”

“what? no!”

he turns to her, hearing her sniffles, tears already welling up in her eyes.

“hey, hey. it’s okay. we just need to help him. he’s going to be okay.”

but before he knows it, she’s run off towards the same stretch of shore as before, her tiny voice shouting.

“okay, okay, sienna. mommy’s coming, slow down a little baby.”

it’s that name. sienna.

and when he turns at the sound of the voice, the same voice he’s longed to hear since the day he let you go, your eyes meeting his – something in him burns, bringing him to his knees.

and you freeze at the realization of who it is standing in front of you.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: i just want to say again how grateful i am for you guys enjoying my super, super self indulgent series that originated due to me having such a spiritual connection with it. and then seeing maria perform this live with so much melancholy i thought: "omg this is so raf x non mc coded". so thank you! i also do apologize for lying and saying i was going to upload this sooner, work and school this week have been kicking my ass these last two weeks and as much as i would love to spend all my time writing, it's so hard to </3.

anyways, here's part 3, and depending on the reactions, i may or may not have a final part with a proper conclusion in the works (typing this as if i don't have it already drafted). once again, ty guys so much for all your comments, likes, and reblogs :)

ps. having rafayel on quality time study mode while writing this was so evil. whole time i looked at him i was like "nooooo my fishie would never"

leftpoetrymoon

Please please let them have their happy ending 😭

orphicmeliora

You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) | part 4

PAIRING: Zayne x Non-MC Reader

SYNOPSIS: An arranged marriage built on silence unravels into a love loud enough to echo—where a repressed heart finally claims what was always his.

WORD COUNT: 12.7k

NOTES: OH, WE'RE SO BACK!!! DID YOU GUYS MISS ME?

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment here

part 3 | MASTERLIST | part 5

before the wedding

“Do you think this will work?”

His question cut through the hush of the waves, blunt in its honesty, and you remember almost stumbling on the sand because of it. He hadn’t looked at you when he said it — his gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the sea bled into dusk, as though the answer might be written there instead of in your mouth.

You had swallowed, the salt air stinging. “I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘this’.”

orphicmeliora

tags: @velvtcherie @kithyyy @minniestarmj @lishenfanaccplshelpme @raendarkfaerie @christianacj27 @sickeddyville @mcdepressed290 @aweebs @jeonjenny @silver--47 @mikasaredscarf1 @shinreiplays @nanamiina @aboobie @floatinginaer @whatever-fanfics @castellandiangelo @xianlegod @biblioth-que @00concretegirl00 @wonhalo @jelxqa @luminaaaz @s22ae @themonotonysyndrome @dstrctaya @annicishana @thestarsthatshineinyoureyes @ragnvdnir @slowburnmithy @sylusqt @webmvie @strawberrydragon24 @yura-4life @mx-0-nchild @nov2003baby @deadlyskepticalnightmare @cndykiss @h3llish

fromthebeehives

you know what type of angst that i really love for the lads boys?

non-mc!fem!reader thinking that it's practically written in the stars that he (your specific lads boy) is meant to be with mc. it's the way that you perceive how he seems to gravitate towards her, as if there's an invisible pull controlling him, or that he's attached to mc with a string that you can't see—the red string of fate.

unknown to you, that's just your perception.

it's not the same for him.

sure, he treats mc as someone close, as family, as a sister.

but in his heart, there's only you. his mind is filled with you. every breath he inhales, every step he takes, his future, he builds it around you. the longing he has deep inside his chest is for you. he can't imagine having anyone else by his side—it has to be you.

he wants to date you, wants to marry you, wants to fucking grow old with you.

there's only ever been you.

you, you, you.

maybe he doesn't see it at first—how you think that he's meant to be with mc—but when he does? when he catches a glimpse that you reciprocate even an ounce of his feelings back? that your avoidance was due to this? it's all cards on deck.

he's relentlessly pursuing you, and if you push back because you still think that no, this isn't right, he's meant to be with mc... then you're in for a ride. for more chasing. for more courting. for more longing, deep yearning coming from him that you're forced to see that all he has ever wanted and needed is you. get it through your head.

it has always been you.

silly girl, why would he want mc when you're there?

there wasn't an "mc or you?" there weren't options.

it has always been you.

so quit pretending that you don't see how he'd defy fate and destiny themselves just to be able to have you, to hold you in his arms.

let him love you, let him cherish you, let him be yours.

and soon, you know that you do.

hehe, hiii, this is me coping from all the angst fics where lads boys are conflicted between mc and non-mc!reader

comatosebunny09-deactivated2025

@cheezeandkrackers

ittybittyfanblog

Excuse me, Mr Skye, I think this is yours. (Yes, you are.)

Summary: You get a weird package in your mailbox. Luckily, there’s a phone number attached so you can return it back to sender. Unfortunately, the sender gets attached in the process—and decides to keep you too. Tags: oc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, grumpy x sunshine trope, kinda ooc sylus, fluff, crack, heavy angst i’m kidding lol, strangers to friends to a secret third thing, thought of this while waiting for uber eats to arrive A/N: Lmao, hi there. Here’s a brand-new series for y’all (just a lil refresher from Error asfklsdf I did NOT treat that motherfucker as chill writing, I fear). It’s just a short crackfic to alleviate my need to write something, so if I take this one seriously, pls god just shoot me point-blank. Enjoy!

Pt 1 - Pt 2 There’s a package sitting innocuously in your mailbox, wedged among the rows of metal lockers in the communal entrance of the residential complex.

acaffeinated-constellation

Zayne with nurse!reader scenario

warnings: isekai, fem!reader, OOC, tooth-rotting fluff, reader being a simp for her favorite character.

Hello everyone and welcome to the long-awaited scenario for our residential cardiologist~! For those who may have not known, this prompt won by a landslide voting as to what I should attempt to write on my vacation. Needless to say, I should have already posted this last week, but Submergent Devotion threw me in the depths of a creative fervor.

Shout-out to both @dissociativewriter and @jinwoosbabyboo for beta-reading the earlier drafts of this piece and making sure I hadn't lost my touch while enjoying the white, sandy beaches up north lol.

You’ve played enough otome games to know that the protagonist is the one who can truly break through the love interest’s walls and encourage them to embrace being vulnerable, being human. Love and Deepspace was no different, minus more complex battling mechanisms and gatcha slots to collect five-star story routes called myths, depending on your affinity levels with the five love interests. You actually liked the protagonist and saw no reason to complain about her personality online. Why would you? Sure, she was reckless and spoke her mind with no filter whatsoever, but a protagonist isn’t supposed to be perfect. If she were perfect, then the game’s story would be dull and, by extension, the men who have crossed oceans of time to be with her again: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, and Caleb.

Which is why - even after being transmigrated inside of the world’s most popular romance simulator game as an NPC - you were rooting for the protagonist to be with Zayne and find happiness with the cardiologist. He was your second favorite character in Love and Deepspace? Your number one favorite was a secret, and you planned to keep it that way as long as you lived in this pixelated world. For now, you were content with what you had; after your sudden death, you immediately took up the opportunity to finish school, and then towards a career in medicine, to become a nurse. Finding employment at any hospital was akin to fighting a gauntlet amongst your peers, and the teachers did not make it easy with countless essays, rotations, and exams.

But you accomplished it, and now you were working at Akso Hospital with a front-row view of Zayne’s developing romance with his childhood friend, the lovely Hunter and protagonist of Love and Deepspace. But even when you already have in-game knowledge of the cardiologist’s personality - and his past - why the heck was it taking him so long to sweep the MC off of her feet? Yes, Zayne struggled to express himself, a man of few words with an icy demeanor, but that is how he is at the beginning of the game.

By logging in daily to interact with him and getting lucky with the gatcha slots, the affinity level will go up. It would take a while, but eventually the player would realize that there is more to Zayne than just a young man committed to his studies in congenital heart abnormalities or the operating rooms. He cares for his patients more than he said, and always took it hard when he lost one. When that happened, it would almost always be the protagonist who would take his mind off of it. At least, that’s how you remembered it when playing Love and Deepspace.

“Nurse?”

You almost stumbled out of your seat when you heard your name being called. You looked up, seeing Zayne staring down at you with a frown. You let out a squeak in the back of your mind before you stood up, blurting out a greeting. “Good a-afternoon, doctor! How can I help you?” You stammered, swearing under your breath as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Great. Absolutely fantastic.

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Did I need something?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “Well, yes? I mean, are you looking for me? Or are you looking for Yvonne?” You glanced around the U-shaped central nursing station. “I haven’t seen her since rounds, but I can page her -”

“No,” Zayne blurted out, the sudden, sharp tone in his voice startling you. “No, I don’t need Yvonne. I just -” You watched his face scrunch in annoyance, irritation, before he continued. “Did you hear about the two podiatrists who left the practice?”

You blinked. Well, you couldn’t say the news surprised you. Doctors come and go from hospitals, whether it’s from burnout, the stress of administration burdens, hours being cut back, or the desire for a better work-life balance. Still, there would have been an email about it - and who would take their place. Feet were just as important as hips, legs, eyes, and hearts.

“Did you hear about the two podiatrists who left the practice?” He repeated. You slowly shook your head. “They became arch-enemies.” He said.

“…Okay?” You replied.

Zayne nodded and then walked off as if the most emotionally constipated man in the entire hospital hadn’t just told a joke before inhaling his morning coffee. This world gets stranger and stranger with each passing moment. You thought, opening up another tab on your work computer to contact a patient’s primary physician about the dosing for their daily meds when Grayson suddenly appeared by your side.

“What’d you do?” He asked.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Dr. Grayson,” You said, eyes focused on the screen as your fingers flew across the keyboard. “If it concerns Dr. Zayne possessing a sense of humor, then perhaps something good has happened to him this morning.” You honestly hoped that would be the case, because what else would be the reason behind his unusual behavior? When you sent off the message, Grayson was still standing there, mouth opening and closing before he took off as quickly as he had appeared.

Your break time rolled around like clockwork, and when you took the stairs down towards the cafeteria with your lunch, you saw MC confidently stride out through the lobby elevator, dressed to the nines in her Hunter uniform and smiling from ear to ear.

Guess her visit with the good doctor went well. You thought, feeling a grin of your own forming as you continued your trek to your usual spot. Finally, the main story was moving forward. You just hoped that her relationship with Zayne would not diminish in favor of the destined ties she had had with the other love interests.

What you didn’t realize was that a certain cardiologist is being reprimanded by Grayson for his very poor flirting tactics - not because he failed to make his childhood friend swoon, but you probably did not know he had made the joke to impress you.

Yvonne was not happy with him either, citing that while the joke was funny, words sometimes spoke louder than actions.

Zayne had planned on telling how he felt soon - he truly did, he just needed more time. More time to get to know the nurse who works tirelessly to make sure her patients get the best treatment with a smile and a stack of cartoony stationery inside her clipboard.

yizhouprint

The Lark of Philos ⋆🦢˚⟡˖ ࣪ (Xia Yizhuo, Li Shen)

“Every wreath we’ve made, every quiet moment in the garden, every stolen look… my heart has belonged to you for longer than I even realized. I don’t want the crown, or the title. I want you.” ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Synopsis: You are the Lark of Philos, wedded to Zayne, who never truly sees you until it is too late. While his gaze lingers elsewhere, it is his adoptive brother, Prince Caleb, who loves you from the very first moment—and it is to him your heart quietly, irrevocably belongs.

Genre: Angst, Slowburn, Romance

AU: Royal!AU

Pairing(s): Prince!Zayne x NonMC!Reader, Prince!Caleb x NonMC!Reader (Reader is Xavier’s younger sister)

Warnings: Zayne is lowkey cold towards reader, so he’s very dismissive and mean (😭), Zayne angst in the end (I’M SORRY)

Note: Hi guys this is my first ever LADS fic on tumblr so excuse me for any mistakes or inaccuracies 😭 I’m trying out something new and this scenario popped right up before I slept, so I decided to make it a whole fic. Any reblog + like is definitely appreciated, I hope to bring more fics soon! Happy reading <3 (P.S: Yes I am using Enhypen photos because I couldn’t find any Zayne or Caleb pics that match the vibe of the fic)

lalunebat

Thinking about Sylus again.

How restless he is when he sleeps, tossing and turning, managing to wake you up in the process.

You worry about him and try to gently wake him from his nightmare, leaning over his and watching as he wakes.

You're concerned about him, he sees that in your eyes and it makes his heart beat that little faster.

Up until this point, you've not kissed him. You've just started sleeping in his bed after a bad thunderstorm scared you.

You lean down and press your lips to his, applying a tiny bit of pressure. It's a chaste kiss and doesn't last long but when you pull away, he's looking up at you with pleading eyes.

"Again," he begs.

He repeats it every single time you pull away. He's been desperate for you to kiss him and now that you have, he needs you to keep kissing him.

You don't get much sleep as you're too busy kissing him.

16llui

The crow's song

Chapter 1 - Early goodbyes

Chapter 2 - Unfulfilled wishes

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

calebsgrave

He’d lowkey be into it but the scenario is funny to me

sharieb

my first time doing request idk if im doing this right but i would love some small chested mc comfort by lads men

im feeling pretty insecure being so skinny and ive tried searching insecurity comfort by lads men but they are all for chubby people and i would appreciate som love for skinny girls!

it would also be interesting to hear their reactions if mc told them that she was thinking about implants ❤️

(its so sad for me when its a big headcannon in the fandom that my main sylus likes chubby girls and im like opposite to that💔no hate to that tho lol)

Soft as You Are

Setup: You tell them you’ve been thinking about implants. You expect teasing, maybe confusion. What you don’t expect is gentleness. What you don’t expect is love poured into every word, because to them, you’ve never needed to be more. To them, you’ve always been enough, soft as you are.

Pairing: LADs x skinny! small-chested! (MC!) reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Writer's notes: I just got this request, even though I don't like to skip the order of request coming in, but this one I can't help but feel the need to address asap. Listen, darling, I may not know how you feel about yourself in real life, but know that you're not alone in this. Even though my works have bigger girls in mind, it doesn't mean that I would look past girls on the slimmer side, and at the end of the day, these are all just headcanons, and if you ask me, the boys would have loved the love of their lives regardless of body shape and size. They're just wiped and down bad in love like that. Also, society's beauty standards never remain the same; what may be unattractive now may be the new standard a decade from now. That's the reality, so fret not, as long as you love yourself, nothing else matters. 🫂❤️.

He meets your insecurity with mockery at first—until he sees the truth in your eyes. Then all that arrogance quiets, and Sylus shows you exactly how much you are wanted.

The moment you bring up implants, Sylus scoffs. "What for? Are you planning to smuggle weapons in your chest?" You roll your eyes, but he watches your reaction carefully. Too carefully. He frowned as he gently pulled you towards him, his arms snaking around your waist, tugging you into his lap. "You really think I ever looked at you and thought you were missing something?" He leans in until his lips brush your jaw. "You know what I like? The way your shirts hang just off your shoulders. The way you fit under my coat. You look like trouble in the best possible way." You mutter that sometimes you feel like a stick, like there isn’t enough of you to notice. The amusement fades completely from his face. "You’re the only thing I notice in a room. Always have." His voice drops, all teasing gone. "I’ve held a lot of things in this life. Power. Secrets. Even fear. But nothing fits in my hands like you do." He presses his lips softly to your temple, then lets his forehead rest there. "Don’t ever think I need you to be more. You're already my favourite thing to look at. My favourite person to come home to. My peace." He lifts your hand, pressing it firmly to his chest, where his heartbeat thuds steadily and sure. "You’re not just enough. You're it. For me."

The dramatic prince of fire might joke first, but when he sees you're serious? He drops the act. What remains is pure love, bold, unfiltered, and only for you.

"Implants?!" Rafayel gasps, eyes wide with mock horror. "Are you trying to kill me? What if you lean over and I perish from shock?" You laugh, but it cracks too easily. His expression shifts. "Wait. You’re serious." The flamboyant mask drops. He takes your hands in his, thumbs stroking over your knuckles. "Listen, cutie, you’re art to me. And not just because I’m a painter. You’re the kind of breathtaking that doesn’t need exaggeration or symmetry. You’re real. And I’d rather spend forever sketching your exact outline than chase some empty illusion." He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another to your collarbone. "I love your chest. I love your frame. I love you." If you admit you feel too flat, too boyish, he cups your cheeks. "Baby, please. You don’t need to be soft in some specific way to be held like you’re everything. You already are everything. I’m madly, helplessly in love with exactly how you fit against me." He nuzzles into your neck with a groan. "You have no idea how many versions of beauty I’ve seen in this world. But none of them made my heart ache the way you do." Then, with a playful grin and an unshakable sincerity in his voice: "You, my heart, are my muse. And I’ll worship every inch of you...exactly as you are."

He may be quiet, but he knows you better than you know yourself. And when you start to pull away, Zayne pulls you right back, with words gentler than you expected.

He notices right away when something’s off. The way you keep tugging at your shirt. How your arms cross tighter than usual. He doesn't press, just waits until you let the words out, barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about getting implants." Zayne doesn't flinch, but his brows draw together in immediate concern. Not judgment. Just that focused Zayne sort of worry that always makes you feel both seen and fragile. "If this is something you want for yourself, I won’t stand in your way," he says softly. "But if this is because you think you’re not enough for me... then you’re wrong." His hands find yours, grounding you. "You don’t need to change to fit some imaginary ideal. You’re already... beautifully you. There’s a strength in your body that you don’t even see." That night, he wraps his arms around you like you might disappear. His fingers trace the outline of your spine, slow and reverent. "You’re not lacking," he whispers into your hair. "You are enough. More than enough." Then, in the dark, he adds the one thing he rarely says aloud: "You’re the one person I don’t want to let go of. And not because of how you look. But because you’re the only place I feel at peace." He holds you tighter. "You’re it for me. Exactly as you are. Don’t ever doubt that."

He’s calm, collected, until the moment you doubt yourself. Then the weight of his loyalty hits you like gravity, firm, quiet, and unshakeably yours.

He doesn’t raise his voice. He never does. But his eyes go still. Like a ripple cut off mid-wave. "You think I haven’t noticed every detail about you already?"

His hand lifts, fingers brushing the side of your chest with the kind of care you only get from someone who’s memorized your shape by heart. "You’re not invisible. Not to me. You never were." When you say the word implants, he frowns—not angry, just distant. Protective in that way he gets when he feels you slipping. Later, you’re curled under his old DAA jacket, chin tucked to his chest. He speaks into your hair. "You're soft where it counts. In the way you love. The way you forgive. The way you fight. Don’t let anyone tell you your body has to match some checklist." A kiss to your temple. A slow inhale like he's breathing you in. "I want the you who asked me that question. Because she trusted me. And she deserves to know she's already everything." He moves so your hand rests above his heart, where the beat is steady and slow. "You’re what grounds me. You’re my constant." Then he whispers, so low you almost miss it: "And I wouldn’t trade the way you are, not for a thousand galaxies of anyone else."

He doesn’t need many words. Just the weight of a gaze that sees through you, and a silence that holds you steady when you feel most unsure.

You expected teasing, maybe polite confusion. What you didn’t expect was the way Xavier stares at you in stunned silence, like you’d just told him the stars were dimming. "…You think you need to change for me?" His hands find your waist. Not pulling, just steadying. Anchoring. "The first time I saw you," he murmurs, "You looked like a light I wasn’t meant to touch. So delicate. So clear. I remember how hard my heart hit my ribs when you smiled." You blink rapidly, not expecting that kind of honesty. He leans his forehead against yours. "You’re everything soft to me. Even when the world feels hard." And when you murmur that you feel like a stick, like there’s nothing feminine about you, he doesn’t argue. He just lifts you gently into his arms and says, "Then let me hold you like you're the only shape that fits me." A long pause follows, his hand pressing lightly to your back. "I don't fall for shapes. I fall for warmth. I fall for light. And all of that... comes from you." Then, quietly: "Please don’t try to change the body I already dream of holding every night." He kisses the top of your head like a promise. "You’re perfect. Just as you are. Just as I love you."

Sorry, it isn't as long as my other works, but I needed to go straight to the point to combat your justifiable insecurity, and I feel like the boys would have done the same. So I hope this fic helps you feel better about yourself, my lovely.