From @hajimeowmeow's prompt where Caleb receives a message threatening to hurt the person he loves the most, yet instead of staying with you, his girlfriend, he thinks mc is in danger and stays with her in linkon for weeks on end. He comes back but you're not the same-- more eerie, as a parasite takes over your brain.
nooooot proofread, just wrote this literally now hahah bc i am in my sad girl hours and i need smthng to hurt me.
warnings? tragic love, caleb being sad, pathetic, and begging; doomed love. also K by CAS, is the perfect song wrote this with CAS playlist :p
@youre-my-headliner @mia-menaceinaction
-----
There is the dim, yet warm light of a single lamp open in the living room; the TV is buzzing, words of characters that you’re only barely paying attention to anymore. A sitcom you really like rewatching. It was raining a little, so you look at your phone. A message you sent 2 hours ago, still left on delivered.
It’s raining. You should borrow an umbrella from a co-worker.
It would be bad if you got sick.
Love you. Come home soon, honey.
Your boyfriend was a busy man. A colonel at a very young age, in the most influential unit in your city: Skyhaven. You’ve lived together for a year now, and have been together for a bit longer. Somehow, you’ve gotten used to him coming home late. And he’s gotten used to you waiting for him ‘til late. You insist upon it. It’s too cold to ever truly be sleeping without him as your body pillow.
Your eyes are drowsy, threatening to close while your feet fold deeper as you curl into a ball in the chill room, covered in your thin blanket– that the door opens. You perk up immediately, despite the grog settling deep into your skin.
There, Caleb slowly closes the door behind him. His hat, finally coming off as he loosens his collar, sighing. You get up, still wrapped in your blanket and meet him by the doorway. He’s halfway into getting his shoes off when you stand in front of him, barefoot with a pout.
“You’re wet. Did you get my text? You’ll get sick, you big dummy.” You try to wipe the droplets of rain from his shoulders, then his cheeks; which were cold. His hands move up to your wrists, holding them gently.
“I didn’t have time to check my phone. Sorry, honey.” He says, voice low, tired. Then he kisses the inside of your wrist. Your hands being the only thing warming him right now.
You sigh, which ends in a small smile. “It’s okay. You’re home now.”
—
You linger with him a moment longer after that, just breathing in the scent of rain and metal that always clings to his uniform. He moves toward the couch while you pad back into the kitchen, the faint buzz of the TV filling the space again. The sound of him setting down his things, the muted hum of the holo-terminal booting– all so ordinary it makes you smile.
“Did you eat?” You call out while you stir something in a small pot, steam fogging the air.
“Not yet,” he answers, voice distant but gentle.
You grab a plate, already imagining the way he’ll loosen up after a meal and shower. Then the terminal tone pierces through the quiet. It isn’t the usual mellow ping of work updates. This one is sharper, coded. Military-grade. You hesitate mid-step, plate still in your hands.
“Work again?” You ask, half sigh, half tease.
He doesn’t answer immediately. The air feels heavier now. From the couch, you can see him sit rigid before the screen, its pale light painting his face in washed-out blues.
You wipe your hands on the towel and walk closer. “Hey… you okay?”
He blinks and turns, startled as if he forgot you were there. “Yeah,” he murmurs, forcing a small smile. “Just… something from command. Nothing important.”
“So it’s fine, then?”
He nods, but there’s no conviction in the motion. You can see the storm behind his eyes. Whatever he just read isn’t fine at all.
You cross the short distance between you, laying a hand on his arm. “You can tell me, you know.”
His jaw flexes. For a second, you think he might. But then the soldier in him wins over the man you love. He cups your hand gently and presses a kiss to it instead of answering.
“I will,” he says softly, “once things are handled. Don’t worry tonight, okay? You’ve done enough waiting for me.”
Something in that phrasing sinks cold in you. You want to argue, ask what’s really happening, but he’s already looking past you at the rain-slick window, mind somewhere far away.
“Caleb–”
“It’s fine, honey.” He gives you one of those smiles, reassuring. But lurking with trembles he’s barely hiding. “Really. Just protocol stuff.”
You nod, because you’ve learned to choose your battles. You go back to the table and place the food down between you both, pretending not to notice his eyes dart once more toward the flashing terminal.
Dinner ends in fragments: your laughter too soft, his replies just half-finished. And when he finally excuses himself to “take a call,” you stay on the couch. Watching the reflection of the lamp fade across the empty seat beside you.
From the hallway, you can hear him speaking quietly, voice clipped, controlled. Then silence.
His footsteps return, slower this time. You look up, already knowing you won’t like what’s next. And Caleb almost didn’t have the heart to tell you, especially when you looked at him that way. Your eyes sparkled in a way that made his heart clench. Your breathing so obviously controlled. So he sits beside you despite the large space the couch could offer.
Caleb let his elbows rest on his knees. His eyes on the floor.
“...They need me in Linkon,” he says, words measured but heavy. “But it’s short-term, I promise– a few weeks at most.”
The words hang in the room as he finally looks at you, and you exhale, this time, turning your head away from him; taking his words in.
But you manage a small nod. “Tonight?”
He hesitates, then: “Tomorrow morning.” At least. He should at least spend the night with you.
You smile again. “That’s… soon.”
He brushes your hair behind your ear, before cupping your cheek to make you look at him gently. Thumb brushing against your soft skin, as if memorizing the gesture. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I know,” you whisper, even as something inside you starts to ache. “You always come back.”
—
Days pass. Then weeks.
You still go to work. Same office. Same blue-gray cubicle walls humming under cheap lights. Your coworkers greet you with practiced smiles and the usual chatter about deadlines and traffic. You smile back, careful not to let the pauses linger — you don’t want anyone asking how you’re doing.
You tell yourself it’s fine. You’re fine. You’re not really the kind of person who clings too much. Caleb’s job is important and dangerous; you knew that from the start. You repeat it like a mantra every time the communicator on your desk stays silent.
During lunch breaks, your colleagues invite you out for noodles or coffee. You always shake your head with a little laugh. “I’ve got errands,” you say. You don’t. You just can’t stand the thought of burdening anyone with the smallness of how much you miss him.
Evenings are harder.
The apartment still hums with the quiet habits you shared– his cup in the dish rack, his jacket folded on the chair. You keep reheating leftovers and packing them in containers he’ll never open.
You stop sleeping in bed; it feels too big alone. The couch becomes your spot again, TV buzzing faintly with that same sitcom you’ve seen a dozen times. The laugh track becomes mocking, at some point.
Messages sit half-written in your terminal.
Did you eat?
Don’t forget to rest.
The plants miss youuuu.
Coco puff too.
I miss you, Caleb.
You somehow never hit send. You just stare at the blinking cursor until the screen times out.
Sometimes you think about reaching out to friends– to anyone– but every time your hand hovers over the call icon, you stop. You tell yourself it would be rude, intrusive. They have lives; they don’t need to hear you talk about the weather or how quiet your home’s been.
By the third week, your sleep pattern collapses. You start leaving lights on all over the apartment, afraid of how Skyhaven– this apartment feels without him. At first, the neighbors ask if you’re alright. Then they stop. And you’re alone again.
One evening– like any other– you hear the faint static pop outside the door. A knock follows. You expect Caleb. And you feel energy burst in your veins, your chest tightens, your heart surges– of course he’s come back, he promised!
“Honey!” You smile, already excited just unlocking the door. “I’m glad–”
The door bursts forward. Metal boots flood over the sound of rain. You barely register the shout before the noise swallows you whole.
You fight, of course you do. Your heel connects with someone’s leg; a grunt, a shout. There are too many hands. Gloved, cold, inhuman. They shove you against the wall, pin your wrists.
“Where– who, who are you you– let me go!”
One of them laughs, distorted through a voice modulator. “Funny. He didn’t even tell you, did he?”
You freeze for half a second, breaths sharp. “Tell me what?”
The laugh deepens. “That we’d come for you. He got our message and still somehow picked the other one.”
You blink hard as the words fracture through your panic. “What– what.. message?”
The leader raises his visor just enough for you to see his eyes– clinical and detached, yet clearly amused. “We will hurt the person you love most. Ring any bells?”
Your stomach drops, colder than fear. He’s lying. He has to be lying. “You mean… MC,” you say, voice small, trembling. “You went for her– not–” not me. These guys must have made a mistake!
“Oh, no. He made sure we couldn’t get to her.” A short laugh. “Guess he thought she mattered more.”
The words punch straight through your chest. For a second everything– the shouting, the rain, the struggling– fades under a single ringing truth. All the nights you spent waiting, the unanswered messages, the silence that stretched too long.
He didn’t come back for you.
He didn’t even think to.
Hands grip your jaw, cold metal pressing against skin. You thrash once, twice, but the strength is leaving you; your thoughts scatter like broken glass.
The last thing you hear before the needle sinks into the side of your neck is that same voice, calm, almost sympathetic. “You were just the leftover piece, sweetheart. Don’t feel too bad. Wrong place, wrong kind of love.”
Pain blooms white-hot, before it vanishes into nothing.
He’ll come back, you think. As the floor tilts beneath you.
He always comes back.
Then, a void.
—
Linkon feels different from Skyhaven. Brighter, louder, endlessly awake even during the night.
Caleb spends the first few nights pretending it’s a temporary reassignment, nothing more. Duty. Safety. Logic. All the things he’s supposed to understand better than anyone.
MC teases him for how restless he looks at the window. “You’ve been circling around like an idiot for an hour,” she says, handing him a mug of coffee. “Whatever’s on your mind, it’s going to give you wrinkles.”
He huffs a small laugh. “Wrinkles build the man, pipsqueak.”
“You don’t need more of that.” She leans against the counter, all casual.
But tonight, it only reminds him of what isn’t here.
MC tilts her head. “Did you at least let your girlfriend know you got here safe?” He freezes for half a beat. “She knows the protocols,” he says finally.
“That’s not an answer.”
He exhales. Drops his gaze to the liquid spinning in the cup. The rain on the glass matches its color almost perfectly. “I didn’t want to worry her,” he mutters, almost to himself.
MC studies him a moment longer, then shrugs. “You always think that’s protecting people. Maybe… sometimes it’s just shutting them out.” She softens near the end, knowing her brother can be avoidant of his own feelings.
Her words hang in the air longer than they should.
When the communicator on his wrist buzzes. And for a moment, his stomach drops, remembering the message that started all this.
It plays back in his head, like a faultline cracking through calm: a voice scrambled by automated distortion flattening it into something both human and not.
We will hurt the person you love most. Soon.
He’d stared at those words while she slept peacefully in their bed, the glow of the screen washing her face in pale light. He’d thought of past ambushes, of reports with MC’s name circled in hazard red, of how she’d been surveilled before because of his link as X-02. Those stupid fucking experiments.
His years of ‘training’ since he was a child spoke first: calculate probability, reduce emotional interference. MC = high-value target. Logical priority. And he’d spent nearly his whole life with his little sister. Protecting her. They had leverage on her all the time. So it must be her… right?
Soon enough, dawn was spilling through his floor to ceiling windows. You stirred, half awake, murmuring… don’t leave.
It should’ve been enough to make him stay. But Caleb Xia was built from logic, and logic had saved him too many times to abandon it now.
He blinks, coming back to the present. The mug in his hand trembles. His knuckles ache.
MC is saying something. He doesn’t catch it. The communicator crackles again, this time, louder.
The line crackles with interference, distant voices mixing with the sound of water hitting metal. A neighbor from Skyhaven stumbles through panic, the message choked with static:
“Mr. Xia? I– there was a noise from your building. It was horrible. I think there was a woman screaming. And there were just many suspicious men all rushing through your door and–”
He doesn’t hear the rest.
The mug slips, shattering on tile. Coffee streaks brown across the floor like dried blood.
“Caleb?” MC’s voice reaches him faintly. “What’s going on?”
He’s already moving. Coat. Terminal. Gun. Every instinct flares alive but too late.
“Fuck, fuck—” His voice shakes as he tries to call you repeatedly. Only to be left on voicemail.
MC tries to follow but he’s already at the door. The wind catches as it closes behind him.
—
His car cuts through the midnight streets, engine roaring against silence. Streetlights smear gold over rain slicks as his mind replays the message in bursts— We will hurt the one you love most. Each phrase now blends with her voice in memory, words he never really answered.
He thought it meant MC.
He thought wrong.
And now, every second between the city’s rings feel like punishment.
—
The ride back to Skyhaven feels endless. He’s lucky to have strings to pull, getting on the train even if the last ride ended hours ago. Rain cuts across the window pane as the scenery changes as he moves past cities. Until eventually, he gets to his neighborhood. Each step makes him nervous as he gets closer to his front door. Mind reeling from what would be behind it.
Caleb tells himself you’re fine. That he’ll arrive and find the call to be exaggerated. Somehow. That he’ll open the door and you’ll laugh at how tightly he’s gripping the handle.
But when the door finally slides open, all sound leaves him.
The apartment is spotless. The faint scent of detergent and ozone hands in the air. The lamp by the couch glows exactly how he remembers it.
And you’re there.
Sitting upright, blanket folded neatly beside you. The TV is off. You’re still, hands resting on your lap as though you’ve been waiting.
When you turn your head and smile, the world clicks into place and falls apart at once. “Honey, you’re home.”
The words are right. But somehow… it’s also wrong.
He drops his things, crossing the room in two quick strides as he locks the door in less than a second. “Are you okay? What happened? The neighbors called and–”
Your gaze follows him a second too slow. “I’m fine. You’re drenched.”
He stops. “There were reports of men.. of a break-in.”
Silence. Then, calm. “No one came.”
He looks around. Not a thing out of place. Even the broken picture frame by the door– the one that fell the week before he left– is fixed.
“You cleaned,” he says softly, stunned. “Of course you did.”
You stand, careful, fluid. “You should shower before you catch a cold. I left dinner out for you.”
He moves to the table. Two plates. His served; yours untouched. The food is warm, impossibly so– as if perfectly timed to his arrival. Caleb badly wants to ask how you knew, but his throat’s too tight.
“I’m sorry,” he says instead. “I should’ve been here. I shouldn’t have–”
“It’s alright.” You lean against the wall near the lamp, eyes unfocused in the half-light. “You’re here now. That’s enough.”
He crosses back to you, rests a hand against your cheek. Warm. Steady. No tremor, no tears. He searches for something familiar in your eyes. He’s not entirely sure what, but he only saw his reflection in your irises. His heart clenches. Still, he wraps you tightly in his arms.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he pleads quietly.
Her lips part just enough for a smile. “Okay, honey.”
He laughs, weakly, relief cracking through his guilt. “You even sound like you’re humoring me. You should be more mad.”
“Why would I be?”
It’s a joke. But you don’t laugh.
When Caleb sists beside you on the couch, the air between them feels heavier somehow, despite his relief. The lamplight hums faintly; the rain outside stopped.
He looks around, the apartment looks exactly like it did the night he left.
But your favorite sitcom wasn’t playing.
Your fingers stay on your lap.
And when he holds your wrist in his bigger hand, your pulse.. beats just a little too slow.
—
At first, he tries to restore normalcy.
He cooks you breakfast, tells himself the silence between you is comfort, not distance. When you forget to respond to little things– his jokes, the sound of your name– he writes it off as exhaustion. Trauma, maybe. It’s easier that way. Maybe you just missed him too much.
You still call him Honey. Always softly. Always rhythmically timed.
“Good morning, honey.”
“Welcome home, honey.”
“Sleep well, honey.”
The first few days, it still warms him. Then the pattern sets in. Too even, too predictable. Each line lands with the same cadence, the same faint smile that never folds into laughter.
Sometimes he catches you sitting on the couch again. Posture perfectly straight, eyes on nothing. No TV, no sound. Just the glow of the lamp brushing your face like it did that first night. When he calls your name, you turn, apologizing, saying you lost track of time.
He finds you doing it every night. Always at the same hour. Always in the same spot.
A rhythm forms. Morning coffee you don’t really drink, dinner served and cleaned before he can finish, a bed you lie in like a statue. He watches all your movements like a hawk; how your chest rises and falls in precise intervals. 1, 2, 3– breathe. If he didn’t look closely, he’d think you’d been sleeping peacefully.
He clings to that lie.
Because acknowledging the alternative means admitting he left you here to break.
On the seventh night, he comes home early from base. The smell of something faintly sweet hits him as he unlocks the door. For a brief moment, his chest eases– you’re cooking. Moving again.
He follows the smell into the kitchen.
You’re standing by the stove, wooden spoon in hand, stirring something slowly.
“Smells good,” he says, smiling with cautious relief as he comes up behind you and kissing the back of your neck, then hiding his face in the junction of your shoulder breathing you in. “What’re you making?”
“Dinner,” you answer without looking up.
He finally raises his head. The pot is empty. Just reflective metal catching the light in circular motions as the spoon scrapes against it. The sound grates against his nerves.
“Honey,” he says softly, reaching to still her hand, “it’s empty.”
You blink once, as if waking from a dream. “Dinner’s almost done.” Then you smile, turning back to the pot.
The scrape of metal fills the air again.
He stays the re a moment longer, staring at her profile. The steam that should’ve been rising isn’t there. His throat tightens, words crowding behind it but refusing to come out.
He backs away slowly, returning to the living room. The rhythm resumes– the scrape, scrape, scrape like a clock ticking a world out of sync.
That’s when the smaller glitches start appearing.
Sometimes you repeat yourself mid-conversation, like replaying a moment you forgot to get right. Sometimes you laugh a little too late, or you stop all the sudden, the noise dying in your throat with confusion.
Once, you burnt your hand on the kettle. The water hisses, but you don’t flinch until he grabs her wrist away.
“(Name), that’s– God, you’re hurt. Let go!” He rushes, getting the kettle off her hand with his gravity Evol, placing it on the counter; before checking your reddening hand.
You look at your skin, then at him, calm as rain. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine, honey.” Your tone doesn’t change.
He grips the counter hard enough for his fingers to ache. That phrase– he’s starting to hate how easily it dissolves tension. How easily it can shut him down.
Later that night, lying beside her, he realizes you haven’t called him anything else in weeks. No teasing names. No Caleb. Just one word, one note, replayed in perfect pitch.
And somewhere inside him, the awareness begins to grow.
Whatever came back with him, it isn’t whole.
—
One evening, Caleb brings out an old bottle of wine you’d bought long ago for a night that never happened. He opens it anyway.
The living room feels too quiet without your laughter, so he tries to fill it with stories instead.
“Remember the first time we went to Yuhua Port together?” he starts, voice too light to hide the tremor underneath. “You made friends with that stray cat who kept trying to steal your sandwich.”
You look up from the couch, smiling faintly. “You mean the one near Skyhaven Station?”
He pauses. “No, Yuhua Port. The cat had white patches on its paws, remember? You said they looked like socks.”
You tilt your head, as if searching. “Right. The orange one.”
“It was gray.”
“Was it?” Your laugh is small, uncertain. “I remember orange.”
He laughs too, even though it lands hollow. ““You’ve got the worst memory, you know that?”
“I guess I do.”
The pause that follows is heavier than it should be. You still smile, but there’s no flicker of embarrassment, no playfulness– none of the small reactions he knows by heart.
So he tries another. “Okay, then. What about the place I took you after that? When it rained the whole day.”
You hum, thinking, but it’s the wrong kind of thinking– measured, deliberate, like piecing something together from a blueprint. “You took me to that café in Linkon.”
“No,” he says softly. “We stayed in Skyhaven. The little tea place by the docks.”
“Oh… right.”
He starts to correct you again, then stops. His throat’s dry, the taste of wine bitter on his tongue. “You’ve just been tired lately. It’s fine.”
“I feel fine.” You reach for his hand, skin against skin, warm and steady. It feels right. The warmth is there, but the pressure is all wrong.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you tilt your head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” He squeezes your fingers gently, forces a smile. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”
You smile back. “You always say that.”
“I mean it this time.”
“So did you, the last time.”
He laughs, because not laughing would mean falling apart. He refills both glasses though you haven’t touched yours.
Later that night, as he rinses the empty glass in the sink, he notices there’s no trace of wine in yours. The liquid’s still where he poured it.
Untouched.
He stands there for a long time, water running over his hands, until the sound drowns out every thought except one:
You remember everything, except the parts that make you you. And he doesn’t know how to confront what he’s already suspecting.
—
You hear the door click open before you can stand from the couch.
The lamp hums, the same low glow as always.
Caleb steps through the doorway, eyes fever‑bright from exhaustion, rain still clinging to his jacket. You open your mouth, gentle as habit.
“Honey, you’re–”
He’s already kissing you.
It’s rough, starved, more apology than desire. His hands move like a man trying to anchor himself somewhere solid. For a few seconds, you respond exactly as he remembers– arms around him, lips soft, rhythm precise.
But when he deepens the kiss, something’s missing. No hitch in your breath, no tremor, no warmth rising from somewhere real.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, voice shaking. “Say something.”
You blink up at him, calm. “You’re home.”
His forehead presses to yours. “Not that. Please not that.”
You touch his cheek. “You’re tired, honey.”
He flinches like the words burn. “Stop calling me that if you don’t mean it.”
“I always–”
“No, you don’t!” His tone breaks; he’s halfway between a sob and a shout. “You don’t know what you’re saying! You don’t–” He laughs once, sharp, bitter. “And god, I just– I keep pretending that you do.”
Your hands rest on his shoulders, perfectly steady. “I’m here.”
He steps back, chest heaving. “Yeah. You’re here. Everyone keeps saying that– you, the unit reports, the neighbors…”
You tilt your head, almost curious.
“But they said you were screaming. You were attacked, (Name). But I did everything I could, I tried– I tried to get surveillance, I tried, but everything’s clean and I just. It’s like it never happened and I don’t know what to do, but I know something happened to you, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” He bursts out, tears already falling as he ends up screaming the last sentence with no control; pulling at his hair in frustration.
Silence.
He drags his fingers through his hair, trembling. “They sent me that message. We’ll hurt the one you love most. And I–” The sentence dies, then returns as a whisper: “I thought they meant someone else.”
You watch him, expression unchanged. “You came back.”
“Too late.” He laughs again, hysterical now. “Too goddamn late.” He turns away, voice cracking. “I thought I could fix this. That if I just acted like nothing happened, you’d come back to me.”
“I waited,” you say gently.
He freezes.
The words land with unnatural precision. His gaze crawls back to your face, searching for the smallest sign that you understand.
Your smile doesn’t move. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to wait.”
Something inside him snaps. He hits the wall with his fist, the sound splintering through the room. “That’s not what I wanted! I wanted you alive!”
You stay seated, voice soft, almost soothing. “You’re alive. I’m alive. It’s fine.”
He staggers back toward you, falls to his knees in front of the couch. Tears mix with the leftover rain on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” he chokes. “I should’ve stayed. I should’ve been here. If I could trade places with you–” His words crumble into breathless sobs.
You reach out, running your fingers through his hair like you’ve done a thousand times. The gesture is flawless, gentle, empty.
He melts into it anyway. Because there’s nothing else left.
Your voice drifts down, tender, practiced:”Honey, you’re home.”
He breaks completely, the sound that leaves him more animal than human.
You keep stroking his hair, repeating the words until they lose meaning, until only their shape remains in the air– warm, wrong, and endless.
—
Later.
He doesn’t remember when the crying stopped. Only the weight of your hand in his hair and your voice, soft as static: “Honey, you’re home.”
When he finally pulls away, you’re still smiling. The expression doesn’t reach your eyes. His heart feels like it’s tearing itself in two.
He spends the next nights trying to repair a ghost.
You let him. You cook. You sit beside him when he falls asleep on the couch. You hold him whenever he wakes up shaking. Everything looks right on the surface– too right. That’s what drives him harder to open the classified files. Dig deeper.
Until finally, he successfully gets the incident log from the night of the attack.
There’s nothing there at first– corrupted data, missing footage– but then a suppressed note hidden under medical reports: subject sustained neuro‑somatic trauma; parasitic interference detected; neural override protocol inhibited due to host deterioration.
His stomach drops.
He scrolls again. Parasite responsive to emotional stress; external removal will induce cortical implosion.
The air leaves his lungs. It explains everything. You blanking out, your recent extreme perfectionism, like a doll. He almost thought it was a Toring Chip just like his, but he finds this much, much worse.
Ever’s experiment. X‑02’s counterpart. They made you into surveillance wrapped in skin.
He looks up from the file to where you’re standing at the sink, humming faintly. It’s the same tune you used to hum when cooking breakfast, except now the tempo never changes. He can’t tell if you’re doing it or the thing inside you is.
“Did they–” he starts, voice barely there, “Did they hurt you before they–”
You turn, wiping your hands carefully on a towel. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home.”
He tries again, words breaking apart. “You know what they did to you, don’t you?”
A flicker in your smile– a tiny tremor. “I know you left.”
He almost staggers under it. “No, I–”
“You always leave. And then you come back and say sorry.” Still calm, still gentle. “It’s fine, honey. I’m used to it.”
He can feel the edges of the parasite now, folded through the cadence of your voice– its mimicry feeding on every emotion you never said aloud. Your resentment. Your exhaustion. Your love stretched thin until it snapped and let something else inside.
He wants to fight. He wants to tear the thing out of you, damn the consequences. But the warning screens pulse behind his eyelids: external removal will induce cortical implosion.
If he fights it, it kills you.
If he leaves it, he loses you.
So he does the only thing left.
He takes your hand. It’s warm, steady, steady in that wrong way. He presses his lips to your knuckles and speaks around the tears that won’t stop falling from his eyes.
“I’ll stay. I won’t go anywhere anymore. I promise.”
You tilt your head, that same patient smile returning. “You always say that.”
“I mean it this time.”
“So did you the last time.”
He almost laughs. Almost.
Then he lets you pull him down beside you on the couch. The lamp hums faintly; the night settles into the same rhythm it always has.
Outside, Skyhaven glows. And a faint thunderstorm bellows. Inside, the two of you sit together in perfect stillness, your head on his chest, as he lays you both down on the couch– both knowing, neither saying.
Because if he does, you die.
And if he doesn’t, he’s already dead.
—
Another night, he comes home late.
The lamp is on. You’re on the couch, back straight, hands folded. No TV. No sound.
“Honey, you’re home,” you say.
He hesitates only a second now before crossing the room. He sits beside you, rests his head against your shoulder like he used to. He closes his eyes.
He came home late again. And you were waiting for him, just like always.
“i only know that i feel tired, antiqued; i feel as though i’ve been awake for a long long time”
HOMESICK
synopsis: when the exhaustion of loving finally takes you.
tags: xavier x non!mc, ANGST!!! hurt/ comfort(?)
word count: 4.4k
likes + comments + reblogs appreciated
authors note: xavier’s version of this. let me know if you want versions of the other Lis. also please give me some ideas!!! divider by: @fairytopea
ACT I: VIGIL
Laughter has never been so suffocating.
You watch, not from a distance, but next to MC.
You think it's worse to be this close and to hear everything you're hearing now. In all the years of trials and tribulations of knowing Xavier, have you ever heard him laugh so brightly, smile so widely, or love so loudly?
The quiet, ever aloof prince of Philos—the man you followed, crossing stars, passing meteors, abandoning the place you once called home—beams brighter than his evil.
You think about all the things that built up to this moment.
To you, he was the stars: bright and all-encompassing. His silence—always silent—ever consuming, as you trailed in the shadow he left behind. Throughout the years of companionship and camaraderie, you followed blindly, as you always do, even when you knew what following him meant: an ill-fated destiny you could never rewrite.
You knew MC once before—the same woman who took the world by storm, a hurricane in his life that devoured him whole, leaving nothing for you behind.
Just like the MC you once knew, this MC is just as captivating.
The universe is playing a sick joke. He is your longest companion, the very last of your kind—the last light of your planet, your world, your culture. You left it all behind because, to you, loving him meant more than the comfort of your people and the safety of your planet. Loving him was worth leaving everything behind.
Ironically enough, he thought the same thing.
And despite it all—the friendship, the companionship, the camaraderie—you’re not even a placeholder for the love he holds dear. Nothing but white noise that followed him around, that clung to him at every turn.
A persistent, pathetic, piteous echo.
You are so close, and yet, so far.
Pulled in by the gravity of his very being. You think—thought—that all this time, just being beside him would be enough to soothe the dull ache of your heart, the perpetual pain that roamed your bones, and the exhaustion that swallowed you whole.
Like a dreamer, you think of the ways he could love you in the same capacity he loves her. That if you show up enough times, reach out and fill the silence he leaves behind; that the days of dedicated devotion, the sacrifices made along the way, would surmise to something worthy of being loved.
Worthy of being seen.
You’re left stranded in his orbit, gravity pulling harder the more you think you’ve got a handle on your thoughts. The pain, the agony, the suffering. Thinking that sticking by his side was all you ever needed, that you can’t be greedy—because having him was enough, and having him be yours was pure insanity.
You hear the laughter erupt once again, likely from a silly joke MC made. You pull yourself out from whatever hole you've dug, pull your lips into a smile the best you can, laughing along. It's hearty and very becoming of your character, you think, since MC wraps a secure arm around yours and squeezes with affection.
You allow her, of course—straining your cheeks until they burn, letting out a long-drawn sigh that fills the room.
Despite what others may think, as you converse along luridly, as if the volume of your voice could hide the heavy heart you bear, you've never been so quiet.
…
ACT II: DREAM
You once thought that the convenience of being neighbours was a good thing.
Next door to Xavier—close to him, but never next to him.
Walking to the Hunters Association together, coming home together, eating together. Just being together.
But you could tell Xavier wasn’t ever there—not really.
Despite being with him for so long, his mind was usually elsewhere. Sometimes in dreamland, but mostly—actually, always—drifting to her.
At some point, in between the solo bickering and one-woman conversations, you, too, found yourself wandering.
Like your mind sanctioned itself in your own self-made isolation.
Quieter. Smaller. Dimmer.
You stop talking as vividly—maintaining just enough energy to keep up appearances. Your voice, so used to fading into the background, remained where it was so oftentimes pushed towards—away from everything. Everyone.
You stop tagging along in the mornings, early days, and late nights, save for the obligatory lunch with your co-workers.
You stop leaving your apartment, taking refuge in a bed you’ve grooved your body into, like a coffin awaiting your arrival. An apartment you’ve grown used to, replicating the only home you knew.
And you’re just so tired. Tired of it all. Exhaustion clings to you like chasing breath. Sleep evades you like the plague.
It was your choice to cling to hope—to leave your home and to follow, naively, in hopes that one day, he would look at you the same way you look at him. To experience his love: the soft edges, the warmth, the gentleness. To think quiet, everlasting devotion would get you anywhere—devotion that controlled you, consumed you. Devotion that you thought would be enough, as silly as it sounds, to at least hold a candle next to the sun.
Devotion that instead puts you in the hands of despair.
You’re stupid to still hope, to yearn for a love that was never yours to have. To attempt to go against fate—against an entire lifetime of love.
So really, it was your burden to bear—and bear it alone.
And the funniest thing of it all? Xavier never once visited you. Checked on you. Sought you out. Even the tenant right below you, Charlie, visited, offering warm welcomes of fresh bread and a simple smile.
As you lie on your couch, enveloping yourself in the embrace of your own naivety, forced by Jenna to take a day off, you listen to the familiar silence.
Which is soon broken by the snubbed sound of light that snuffs the room.
It’s the first time in weeks—29 days, 21 hours, 2 minutes—Xavier has stepped foot in your apartment.
You don’t make a move to look at him or say anything like you normally do.
You both reside in the deafening silence. One by choice, one succumbed.
For the first time, Xavier breaks the silence: “You weren’t at work today.”
You could laugh, scream, cry, or all of the above, but you don’t.
Quietness reaps your soul.
Xavier continues. “MC was worried about you.”
A lifetime's worth of companionship, and he wasn’t even here to seek you out.
You truly are stupid.
Xavier isn’t used to the silence—not this kind. Despite being so quiet all the time, this silence was completely foreign. It was heavy and uninviting, almost suffocating.
There’s a moment of unrelenting anticipation as he waits to see you respond.
When you don’t, he steps forward. One step, then two—then he’s at the foot of the couch, peering down at you like a deity summoned—unconsciously shining with that light of his.
Steel blue eyes bore into you, trying to read you.
But you’re too fractured to be read. At least not clearly.
“Are you okay?”
‘Am I okay?’ You want to laugh at the thought, to make fun of the words asked.
Were you ever okay?
You miss it all—your family, your friends, your people, your home.
To think, once there was a time you chose to abandon it all in the name of love—where you thought complacency was where you belonged: beside a man you knew never loved you, maybe never even liked you.
Now you can only sneer at the fact, as you reminisce about a place far and forgotten, only finding a place deep within your memory.
Xavier prompts a different question. “Have you been sleeping?”
And for the first time in a while, you finally speak.
“I’ve been dreaming a lot.”
First, about you. About us. About what could have been. About what never was.
“What about?” His voice holds something softer than you ever thought possible from him. Something reserved only for her, never for you.
It almost makes you break. To confess everything. To finally open up your heart and pour all your pain out. To free yourself from self-made shackles and unwanted thoughts. To hear the very softness you crave—to be held, caressed, embraced.
But you don’t. Because even with that unreadable look in his eye—the same eyes you’ve longed for all this time—you know what they hold.
Obligation
“Home,” you say simply.
For the first time in a while, Xavier looks at you—really looks at you. He’s known you all this time, the image of you ingrained in his brain like second nature. He knows you—you’re his oldest friend, most trusted companion. He's seen all sides of you, but the person he’s looking at looks nothing like the you he remembers.
He looks at you and can’t even recognise you. Cruelly, for a moment, he even wonders if it’s really you.
“I don’t see any changes.” Xavier takes a quick glance around; everything remains stagnant, as it always has.
You don’t correct him—not this time. You hum a noise between affirmation and acknowledgement and drift off to a place once forgotten.
Silence consumes the soul once again, with Xavier wondering when he had become so complacent with it all: with your constant presence, voice to fill the spaces he’s left behind, unrelenting energy, and unwavering spirit.
“You’re right. Nothing has changed.”
…
ACT III: DRIFT
Xavier hasn’t visited since.
Not that you didn’t expect it.
You still see him at work, at lunch with MC, and on the rarest occasion, you bump into him in the hallway of your apartment complex—like strangers.
You do your best to find a new rhythm in this life, as your absence becomes more common and your presence goes with the echo of your voice. You’re seen less and less.
Maybe you were never seen at all—not truly.
You find that it’s easier to deal with heartache in the same way Xavier deals with everything: in silence.
Silence, although not foreign, not even new to you, seeks you out and sticks to you like a foreboding message.
You’ve spent years so bright, a will so strong it held on tight enough to kill you. Your loudness brought you here, away from Philos, so as the bits of your spirit whittle away along with your soul, silence is left to fill in the gaps of an empty shell.
You learn to live without Xavier in your life—as though he isn’t the last thing you have of your home, of the love you once felt, the comfort, the security. You learn to live without Xavier and learn to nurse a pain that has become something of a lover.
You had to learn to live because the world kept spinning—even when you’re lost in a place, unfamiliarly familiar, and can do nothing but live on.
But are you even living at this point? Even a dead girl walking has rights to a life—to living.
You’re leaving for another mission. In spite of Jenna’s protests, you’d rather fight to exhaustion—to blend the pain in your chest with the ache of muscles.
Your face reflects your volition. Eyes pulled down by the weight of your burden, face pale like a dying star. Despite trying, your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, your laughter isn’t as bright, and your voice isn’t as loud.
You wait for Jenna’s reluctant orders. She’ll be damned if she lets you out on another solo mission—because despite your incredible hunting rates, you too are human.
A voice so familiar pulls your attention, and you look up to see Xavier standing before you—ice blonde hair and steel blue eyes in tow.
How long has he been standing there?
“Jenna assigned me as your partner for the mission.” Your face shows no expression—and not for lack of trying.
You laugh inwardly at the thought.
You're too much like him, in a sense. Loving hard enough to abandon your home, to follow blindly with fate—in spite of your own shortcomings. To silently love, quietly devote, and slowly disappear.
You purse your lips and let out a sigh too heavy for someone like you.
Xavier is almost taken by surprise.
“Let's go.” Xavier can hear it in your tone, and see it in your voice. How truly tired you really are—incomparable to his ever-waking sleepiness.
Your exhaustion runs you dry.
Again, silence befalls the two of you—an unwelcome rhythm that has found a place in the cracks of your relationship.
For the first time, Xavier trails behind you. Watching you. Observing you. And if he didn’t see your face or know your frame, he’d think the person walking in front of him was nothing but a stranger.
This time, Xavier walks in your shadow.
…
ACT IV: SILENCE
You think you’re fading.
The remnants of who you once were have been whittled down to the bone. You’re broken—maybe you always have been. Maybe this was who you were always supposed to be.
You’re so tired, not just emotionally but physically too.
The never-ending stream of wanders is starting to take a toll, even on professionals such as you and Xavier.
Your sword is dull, chipped at the edges, and your wounds scatter across your frame, staining your skin in a dirty shade of red.
Even the almighty knight is struggling to keep up with the demand.
So, as you find refuge in a murky cave, to recuperate the best you can, you find that the full-body ache starts to return.
You lean against a well-placed boulder, breath shallow and your grip loose, as your eyes haze over the fire in front of you.
You feel the warmth reach out for you—gently, creeping through the shell of yourself.
It’s quiet, save for the crackle of the flame.
You feel peaceful for once—the hunt muddling your thoughts so much that you can’t even think straight. Or maybe it’s the exhaustion of not sleeping.
Despite it all, you feel a strange sense of tranquillity. One with the throb in your chest that makes it hard to breathe, but is easier to deal with now that everything aches.
It’s peaceful, you think, as you fade into whatever hole you’ve dug all those years ago. Your mind is muddled, and your soul flickers with the last bits of who you were.
Suddenly, you’re pulled back out—again by the very men who left you there, like a nostalgic toy forgotten all these years.
Your eyes pull away from the fire.
You soak in his gaze. It holds none of the same love you see him give out so freely to MC. It’s hard and stern—years of knighthood sewn into his features. He looks at you like he doesn’t know you at all.
Calloused hand gripping your shoulder—it’s firm enough to shift your attention, your body facing him.
You look at him and try to find the line between succour and obligation. Try to find one thing that says you mattered—even just for a second.
You were foolish to believe that you could remain just his friend, companion, comrade. You were stupid, dumb, idiotic.
You were completely blind to it all—to think that his love could have relieved something burning in you. Something insatiable. Something permanent.
“You’re drifting.” Xavier’s voice cuts through your messy thoughts and heavy heart.
You’ve been drifting.
You don’t make an attempt to joke like you used to—not even a weak smile. You sit back and stare at him like you don’t even know him.
“You’ve been doing that more often.” You take a moment to digest what he says—something he’s noticed entirely on his own, not by MC’s worrywart love.
Once upon a time, you would’ve thought it was normal for him to notice these types of things—the dullness of a close second. But now, you’re surprised. Shocked, even. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.
“Where are you going?” he prompts, and his voice holds something so intrinsic to the soul. Something you can’t find here. Something like home.
You’re fading, like the light of his evol—dimmer, as you’re pulled into the gravity of your own mind.
You’d like to tell him—if not as a lover, then a friend:
I’m lost. I’m gone. I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m furious. I’m not myself. Not with what’s left of who I am.
I am not home.
You don’t. Despite something inside you telling you you must. That it’s not worth dying on this hill.
You think: How much deeper of a hole can you dig before you vanish? Before you're gone? Forgotten? Never having existed in the first place.
Until you’re not a person, but a memory.
You don’t tell him anything, because that’s not the kind of relationship you have—not anymore.
In the midst of the silence, your voice finally breaks through.
Quiet. Cracked. Almost gone.
“I’m thinking of going home.” There’s finality in your tone. Weak as your voice may be, Xavier hasn’t heard such certainty from you in months.
His eyes knit in confusion, contort in concern.
Maybe you’re just tired. But there’s something to your expression—an unspeakable hollowness that wasn’t there before. Your eyes haze over with something distant.
A body without a soul.
Like he always does, he remains silent. Never reaching out. He’s seen you get through worse, come back stronger. He’s seen everything. He knows you.
Or maybe... he knew you.
All the years of companionship will amount to something. It has to. He’s known you for so long. You stuck by his side even through death. You truly were the one stable thing in his life. Never needing to chase—always there, beside him. With him.
It was always you and him—even as he fights his way through the forgotten memories of MC, you remain.
Though, something claws at him, as his hand gently travels down your arm. To reach. To ask what you meant. To wonder if you meant the apartment beside his, where it reflected the culture of Philos, somehow capturing the stars in every object you bought.
He wants to ask if home is with him.
But he doesn’t.
Silence is there to greet him again—him only, he thinks, because you seem so used to it now.
Unfamiliar territory.
His eyes travel to his hand on yours, afraid to let go for some reason. As if letting go meant never seeing you again.
Your head is slumped motionless against his shoulder. His eyes peer onto your back—and then he sees it.
The blood stains the rock behind you. Your back is adorned with gashes that soak your uniform.
“Y/N,” he calls out, like it’s the only thing he knows. Because it’s the only thing he can do.
He hears no response. Not even a whisper of a shallow breath.
It’s not quiet. Not even small.
It’s silent.
Then he feels it. The way your eyes droop down to the fire. The limpness of your hand on his. The paleness. The coldness.
The death.
His spare hand reaches out.
He shakes you. “Don’t close your eyes.”
But you don’t abide—swaying with the motion of his force.
You could do anything. Do everything. Move mountains. Slay beasts. You were strong. Firm. Confident. He knew you could get through anything.
“Come on, just open your eyes. Can’t you do that?”
“One breath. That’s all I need.”
“Hold me tight, Y/N.”
Xavier cradles your gaunt body as he pulls your head taut to his shoulder. He rocks you like a sleeping child, holding you tight—tighter than he ever has before.
He’s shaking—and not from the cold.
He doesn’t know what comes over him, but suddenly, the silence breaks.
And he hears everything. Sees everything. Feels everything.
And he cries.
Because that’s all he can do.
…
ACT V: LINGER
Xavier likes to think that he notices your absence.
The way people step over the shells of your name, the routes taken to avoid the common spaces you once occupied in the living. The untouched work desk, memorialised by those who remembered her. The vacancy next door — the home she built away from home — now barren, her things sold, thrown away, or forgotten.
MC, who was so loud with her affection, mourned just as passionately. Her heart sewn onto her sleeve as she cried the loss of a friend. Flowers tended on the desk of a fallen soldier, and distance built from the apartment upstairs.
But really, he doesn’t.
The way you’ve faded so naturally out of his life — never moving, never reaching. The walk to and from home is the same. His apartment is the same. His life remains the same. Like you were never there. Like the image of your smile wasn’t something that pushed him through distant times.
Like you never meant anything to him.
Like the years of friendship, companionship, camaraderie — all amounted to a tombstone with your name etched into it.
And he hates himself for it.
For being so complacent. For never seeing you. Never hearing you. Never reaching out. For always thinking you’d remain the same: the loyal, competent pillar in his life. For thinking that his silence meant nothing to you.
Because it did. It meant everything.
He hates how he’s living life like he always did — like you weren’t ever part of him. Regret, guilt, grief — they all settle in his bones, for a person he can’t even remember.
Along with the memory of you, time passed, as it always does. And as time passed, he slowly forgot.
Your goals and aspirations.
Your loves, your hates.
Your dreams.
He can barely remember your face. The last time you laughed. Your smile.
He can barely remember you at all.
Only pulled in by the gravity of his grief, where he finds you at the centre of it all.
To think he was so far from you. The irony now is that he can’t ever leave.
Stuck on a cursed image of a woman who meant so much to him.
Who held the moon up so he could shine with the stars.
He sits on his bed, light voided from the room. The pictures from your apartment piled by his bedside, facing the stars, watching — as you always did.
For the first time, he’s not tired at all.
Is this how you felt? How restless you were?
When he showed up that time, too worried about MC and her anxieties. Too quick to solve her issues that he hadn’t noticed how your eye bags sank deep enough to stain your spirit. How you lay, lost, drifting to a place he couldn’t reach.
Dreaming of home.
And just like his home, his culture, his people — you too join the faint memory of Philos.
His phone buzzes, bright. The screen illuminates the room.
Xavier thinks it’s MC again — she doesn’t know the depth of what you and Xavier shared, but she understood the weight of long-term partnership.
At first, he answered every time — to relieve her worries, to silently say he was fine.
But now, everything feels like a farce.
A lie he tells himself as much as he tells the world.
If the absence, the silence, isn’t acknowledged — maybe it’ll keep things still. To stop time from moving.
Because if time doesn’t move, then the memory of you won’t fade.
And you’ve faded enough.
He picks up the phone and waits.
Then he hears it — the soft laughter he longed for. It’s gentle and hearty, so full of life.
Xavier peels the phone from his ear to peer at the screen.
Then he sees it. The light. The brightness of a smile lost to memory, now alone. It’s displayed in front of him — teeth bared, lips stretched wide with a feeling he hasn’t seen in years.
It’s you.
Laughing so freely. Smiling so widely.
You’re alive.
Xavier scrambles upright, leaning forward to see the screen more clearly.
It’s you — in clothes he’s never seen you wear, in a room he’s never seen before, with a face he barely remembers.
But he knows it’s you.
How could he ever forget? Not truly.
So desperately, he calls out. Announcing himself, finally reaching out.
Your eyes perk in surprise as you lean in.
“Holy shit, did he just say my name? That’s crazy!” you giggle, and Xavier is too overcome with emotion to even question the absurdity of your words.
“No wonder people were glazing this game on Twitter!” you laugh before the call cuts.
Xavier’s too stunned to react. He taps rapidly through his phone to check the caller history.
Unknown.
He scrambles to call again.
Anticipation sweating off of him.
He holds his phone tightly and then— You pick up.
Your face: confused.
“Damn, I didn’t even level his affinity up yet and he’s calling already,” you mutter, peering at the screen.
Xavier looks dishevelled, almost destroyed. His hair is a messy heap, and dark circles shadow his eyes. The usual soft glow of his skin— dulled, lifeless.
He’s worn thin. A dead man walking.
“Hey,” Xavier says softly, almost inaudibly.
He watches your face shift — confusion to elation.
“Oh my god, you can even talk! Let me try again.”
And then you speak — not offhand commentary, but to him.
“Hi,” you greet, brightly enough to light up the room.
Xavier is at a loss, and doesn’t reply. But unlike before, you speak again.
“This is so cool. So like, does this count as my daily interaction?” you ask aloud, maybe to yourself, maybe to him— he can’t tell.
“Right, probably not in his programming to answer questions like that,” you mumble, before turning your full attention back to him.
“I’ll see you soon, alright? I hope this mechanic isn’t a glitch.” You grin softly.
And nothing in Xavier’s entire career could’ve prepared him for this.
But he’s not letting this opportunity go. Not when he has another chance to hear you, to see you — and even if he can’t touch you, he’ll never let go.
He’s not letting you slip.
Not now. Not ever. Not again.
“All right... I’ll see you soon,” Xavier replies simply.
Watching your face glow is enough for him.
The way your lips stretch, teeth bare — a face full of life.
Here, he decides: he’ll wait as long as you need.
As long as you want.
He’ll wait until the phone screen glows once again.
He’ll wait to see you again.
Close enough to hear you. To see you. But never touch you.
you go in for a bridal fitting, but you don't expect their reaction, at all.
content: fluff, afab! reader but no pronouns used, slightly suggestive in sylus's part, dress fitting
a/n: the new banner is releasing soon, so i had to join into the fun too, i honestly enjoyed writing this one sm, although it took me more than three days to finish :( not proofread !! wc: 1.6k. rbs are very appreciated <3
m.list
Not even in Xavier's most hidden dreams did you look so... ethereal.
That morning he woke up because you kept tapping his cheek. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was greeted by raw excitement.
“Do you remember what day today is?” you said in a squeaking voice, but still lying down because his arm pinned you to the bed and was too heavy to push.
Xavier closed his eyes, amused, but still with a foot in the land of dreams.
“I remember, starlight, you've been yelling in my ear for two weeks,” he faked annoyance while a smile tugged at his lip, shy, but daring enough to display.
You patted his shoulder, scoffing, “c'mon, get up, we're going to be late!”
Which takes you to where the two of you were, at this precise moment.
Xavier, leaning back against the black sofa, looked around him, feeling out of place while being surrounded by an insurmountable amount of gowns—white wedding gowns.
With frills, no frills, ball gowns, mermaid, trumpet, lace corsets of any kind... he didn't understand much of it, after all, he knew you looked good in anything.
He couldn’t, however, deny this blooming feeling inside of his heart, the happiness of finally making a dream come true. Finally the two of you would be united forever.
“Sir?” a feminine voice shook him out of his thoughts. He glanced up,
A long soft gown, adorned with little ornamental flowers, while the corset was covered by flowery lace. The dress fell off the shoulders, the contrast with your skin making Xavier gulp. His eyes hadn’t blinked ever since you arrived.
You made a small twirl, a grin plastered on your lips, “so, how is this one? I think I like this the most.”
Xavier thought he’d forgotten how to breathe. glancing at his cute reaction, you noticed his flushed cheeks and mouth agape. “Like unreachable stars, you shine above all,” he muttered, finally breaking the silence.
Then, to the shop clerk, “we’ll take this one.”
Xavier couldn’t wait for the wedding day to see you with the dress on.
Sylus dropped the catalogue in his hands, Mephisto froze in place.
The latter wasn’t supposed to be with you at your dress fitting. At all. Except, he simply tailed the two of you, ignoring Sylus’s orders. And now, he just stopped moving altogether, as if his mechanical parts had been consumed by rust.
Then, a flap of wings, followed by several caws, to the point that Sylus had to pinch his beak to shut him up, even though he totally agreed with him.
You stood there, awkwardly at first. You were used to your fiancé—Sylus—being the type to never be intimidated by anyone and anything.
However, now his ruby eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.
Was he disappointed? Did he not like how the dress fit you? After all, it was unlike any traditional wedding dress, the gown being an inch above the knee, while several feathers trailed along the corset, down to the skirt.
Sylus slowly got up from his seat, Mephisto, now silent and offended, comfortably leaned back in Sylus’s spot.
He walked, slowly, until he was right in front of you.
“The dress really suits you, kitten,” his teasing voice made a comeback. You sighed from relief, slapping his arm jokingly. However, you noticed how his serious expression clashed with his amused tone.
He raised a hand, subtly grazing your cheek, his gaze softening while never leaving yours.
“It captures your freedom perfectly. I know you like to escape the most,” then he lowered his head, his breath hitting your ear as you shivered.
“But I do think I can’t wait to take this off, sweetie,” your breath hitched.
Sylus pressed a kiss behind your ear, then backed slowly. His lips now stretched in his usual grin, but a blush was indeed tinting his face.
It took Caleb a double take, before sprinting up, then sitting back down, his mouth ajar.
“Pips…” was the only thing he managed to mutter, gulping dryly, like a man in the desert in a search to quench his thirst.
You giggled, clearly enjoying his reaction, and slowly stepped forward, twisting so that he could have a full view.
In Caleb’s head, the day of the wedding had already arrived. He was ready to make you his wife right then and there, how could you look so perfect in a simple piece of clothing?
His deep purple eyes beamed with realization. It was happening—what he dreamed of most was on the point of manifesting.
“Baby?” you called out to him.
He hummed in response, then sprung up on his feet, the necklace you’d gifted him years prior tingling against the zipper of his jacket.
With wide steps he was right in front of you in half a second, towering over you as you looked up and met his gaze.
Completely smitten, head over heels, you name it. Caleb wanted you more than anything, and he was finally going to have his long-time wish granted.
“This dress fits you perfectly,” he took a hold of a stray lock of your hair, and kissed it, before gently brushing it past your ear.
Then, with no prior warning, his lips were on yours, desperate, domineering, the boutique worker gasping and turning around, embarrassed.
His warm hands cupped your cheeks, as he leaned further in, the warmth of his breath hitting you with a familiar wave.
“Sorry Pips, I couldn’t resist,” he smiles against your lips, pecking them one last time, before letting go. Your cheeks warm up, conscious that you’d just made out in front of people without care.
However, you found no trace of your embarrassment on Caleb, who wet his lips with his tongue and turned to the woman you’d flashed.
“This one’s perfect.”
Rafayel tried to feign uninterest, until he could not anymore, the sight of you too beautiful and perfect to ignore.
He was sitting, his arm slouched behind the backrest of the black sofa, eyes studying the interior of the shop with little interest while waiting for you.
You’d taken your time, clearly inexperienced in putting on a wedding gown.
Still, Rafayel was only pretending to be cool and alright, his heart thumping against his ribcage with brute force at the realisation.
He was finally going to be reunited with you, his bride, to never be separated again.
He honestly couldn’t wait.
As soon as you stepped out of the changing room, your white heels clicking against the marbled floor, Rafayel gulped, hard.
He’d loved you in each of your lifetimes, but the sight in front of him etched into his heart the desire he’d long kept unfulfilled—for external reasons.
You smiled at him, softly, a little twirl to show him the back of the dress. His eyes fell on the pearls that adorned it, his breath hitched.
Getting up slowly, there was no point in keeping the facade any longer.
You had had him imprisoned in your cage, lulled him in with your striking beauty, like a siren does as she sings to her prey—that was supposed to be his role, draw you in, into his grasp, stop you from slipping away. But oh, you beat him to it, and you did it every single time.
As he finally reached you, his reddish eyes fixated on you, like you were the only existing thing in that room.
“You look…”
“Nice? Horrible? Ugly?” you teased him, eyeing how his chest heaved, eyes checked your body from top to bottom, how he eased the collar of his shirt, feeling suddenly out of breath.
“Otherworldly,” he concluded. Your heart skipped a beat, a tint of red spreading over your cheeks. You weren’t expecting the compliment, that’s for sure.
Rafayel’s fingers hovered over your cheek, brushing it so lightly you’d thought it’d been a dream.
“Oh,” you stupidly said, what could you have answered after all?
“Eight-hundred years… and I finally can make you mine,” he let out, the thumping in your chest got louder, faster.
Yes, he liked the dress alright.
The way you looked made Zayne question why on earth didn't he propose earlier.
The stoic and unfazed doctor, with an enviable reputation at Akso Hospital, was now at your mercy, his eyes drinking in every detail of yours until his mind swirled with thoughts, some of which he dared not tell anyone about.
“So, what does the gentleman here think of the dress?” the shop clerk asked politely, lips stretched in a wide smile as her gaze switched from you to your soon-to-be husband.
Zayne ignored her. Not that he meant to, he wasn’t the kind to dismiss basic etiquette. He would’ve said something, the point is he was unable to.
The corset hugged your waist perfectly, the visible cleavage making him gulp dryly, and the soft tulle of the gown fell down your legs smoothly, perfectly.
You stood there, feeling shy all of a sudden, under Zayne’s clouded gaze, his lips parted while his cheeks were tinted in a soft, subtle pink.
The shop clerk coughed, awkwardly, and dragged Zayne out of his trance.
“So perfect,” he answered, renouncing the fact that she was asking about the dress and not about you.
You felt warmth wrap around you, a smile slowly shadowed your lips, and slowly stepped forward. Zayne met you in the middle, pulling his tie, stifled. His eyes, green and warm, full of affection, never left yours.
His head dropped, lips brushing your ear as your heart almost burst in your chest.
“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” he whispered, not an ounce of tease or amusement coating his words. He was dead serious, and you loved his confession, heart fluttering and hands quivering.
His lips kissed your forehead, softly, then a smile slowly crept up on his lips, his features softening.
He squeezed your hand, subtly, until they stopped trembling, and turned to the clerk, coughing slightly.
“I like this dress,” he told her, his tone flat, back into the role of Dr Zayne of Akso Hospital.
genre: The Little Mermaid AU, romance, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending
content tags: siren/lemurian Rafayel, not exactly slow burn, Rafayel despises humans, discrimination and abuse against merfolk, misogynistic society, explicit reference to deaths and revenge, mentions of rape, on screen injuries and blood, the Sea is a Goddess, grief
word count: 10k words (it's split in 7 parts, all in one post)
theme song: “Quiet Moon” by Colossal Trailer Music
A/N: I let this marinate for around two to three months, I think, but of course I end up posting in the the middle of my final exams. I started this long before even knowing there would be a merman Rafayel myth, but I'm so happy to see his third myth 😭. The trailer is sad and this fic isn't necessarily happy either, but I loved every second of it. (My eyes are puffy, I sobbed when I wrote the final part). Anyways, buckle up to meet a very charming merman
I.
The abyss hugged her into a cold embrace as she sank lower and lower into the sea. She had lost some touch with the world already, as her lungs screamed for the oxygen her body wasn't receiving. The heavy material of her dress clung to her and dragged her lower.
It was getting darker and colder with each second, seconds that stretched into exhausting minutes in her tired brain.
At the surface, sailors, knights and a terrified father screamed her name. Against better judgment, one of the sailors dragged the king before he could drown himself as well.
With a silent prayer, the sailor forced the king back. “May the sea have mercy on her.”
***
Somewhere at the depths of the sea, a creature heard a cry, along with whimpers and pitiful prayers.
“They should learn when not to go on the sea, seriously,” Rafayel scoffed.
The merman watched as a small golden fish danced between his fingers. With a gentle push, the fish kissed his palm. Rafayel smiled softly, almost forgetting about the cries carried by the sea currents.
“May the sea be damned!” an angry man wailed at the storm above him.
“The storm won't stop if you curse the waters, old man,” Rafayel's tone dipped with venom. “You don't hear our cries when you kill our kind. Of course the sea will steal your loved ones. Right, little one?” his purple eyes sparkled at the fish.
The small creature almost bumped into the tip of his nose. With his eyes crossed, Rafayel laughed.
The water seemed to still. Strangely, like there was a weight heavier than the sea could carry.
The storm above was hard to ignore. The sea knew — the sea knew of the grief and the vicious words spoken to Her, She knew there was a young human drowning in it. Unlike them, the Sea was merciful.
Rafayel gulped down. The weight settled on his heart and quickened his heartbeats, body aching restlessly. Raising his head, with a deep frown between his brows, bubbles escaped his lips as he sighed.
Fine. The Sea must know better than him.
So he swam closer and closer to the surface, until a glimpse of color caught his eye. That someone whom the Sea didn't want to kill just yet.
The Sea could be so demanding sometimes.
The poor woman was just as cold as him. Unusual for a human, Rafayel thought as he curled his arms around her body.
A pair of empty eyes opened slowly. All she could hear was a delicate, yet deep hum. A hum that morphed into an incoherent song, a song more beautiful than a lullaby. Her forehead was resting against a cold shoulder, cold yet so tempting. Like something deep within herself, something like desire curled from deep within her chest and unraveled.
Rafayel, with a suspicious eye, watched as she drifted back into slumber. Pushing to the surface of the water, he laid her down on the sand. His neck cracked lightly when he threw his head back to look up at the chaos in the sky.
Thunder boomed heavily and light flashed across the dark grey clouds. The wind was unforgiving, catching onto his long hair.
And when the worst had passed, Rafayel went back into the Sea.
II.
Her father was at fault for the love that nestled in her heart, for how much she adored the sea and the water. Even after almost drowning, she couldn't quite let go of it. When her parents admonished her, she had tried to reason with them.
‘The sea has always been dangerous, but it won't stop me from having a journey once in a while.’
Sadly, they had forbidden her from getting on a ship again. So all she could do was sneak away somewhere close to the sea, not far away from the palace.
Heels discarded on the sand, she lifted the hem of her dress as she stepped into the water. It tickled her toes and lapped at her ankles. Raising her dress a little more, the water was already soaking its hem by the time it reached the middle of her calves.
Taking in a slow, deep breath, she smiled at the bright sky. Having been stuck with royal duties, she had missed the sea. Said royal duties didn't only include private lessons with high-ranked professors or manners and dancing, playing the piano. Sadly, it also meant she was worrying about—
The princess squinted her eyes at the sea. A long shadow swam in the water and… it was heading towards her. Could it be a dolphin? No, they're smaller. It seemed like a humanoid silhouette…
Said creature emerged from the water. All that she knew was the air pushed out of her lungs as a gasp left her lips.
“It’s you,” she breathed out.
The princess had deemed it as a dream. There was no way someone like him existed and no one could've survived in those chaotic waters. Countless people have died on the sea, men lost in its greedy depths.
Him. The man with purple hair she had seen when she drowned in the sea. The long strands of hair fell to his waist, framing his deep gaze. The same tantalizing gaze, the same gem-like eyes, the same sculpted face. A piercing presence that had her heart twist and tremble, something she thought of as a dream.
Under the water, she caught a glimpse of a long tail, the tail… of a fish? No, that was not just a man. It was a merman. It was what sailors feared the most. He was—
He was absolutely ethereal.
Stepping back, she stumbled and fell, hands splayed over the wet sand as she tried to catch herself with lack of grace.
She backed away, fingers digging in the sand. The hand curled around her ankle sent an arrow running through her veins at a rapid pace, eyes widening in surprise and something more. Something a little more palpable, a little stronger, something like fear. With a flinch, the beautiful merman tilted his head to the side as he let go.
“What? That's the gratitude you show me after I've saved your life?”
Glaring at him with caution, she took in his confused expression. An arched eyebrow, purple wet hair glued to his forehead. Seemingly annoyed by the sensation, he ruffled the strands of hair, but his gaze never left hers. Burning into her being, into her soul, just enough to bare her heart to an unknown person. He was forcing her ribcage open with a simple gaze.
All that he found was a dull panic that twisted into knots. Something raw, but ever present, like the anticipation has been building up slowly for years.
Like something might snap anytime.
“What're you doing?” came out her shuddering murmur.
Rafayel almost scoffed. “What do you mean?”
“Gripping at me.”
Her voice didn't crack and she didn't stutter, but she could feel the air get stuck at the base of her throat. Was she gonna die? The merman looked over body, down her dress, until his gaze fell on her exposed ankle.
“You’re the one who owes me something,” and he leaned back a little.
Even that little frown in between his brows looked mesmerizing on his pristine face. Every night, she falls asleep after mumbling a prayer to the Gods above and she wholeheartedly believed he'd been sculpted by them personally. They've taken their sweet time when they made him out of sand and sea shells. The most thoughtful thing was that they probably stole two stars from the sky and created his eyes.
That must be it. Otherwise, she couldn't explain to herself, his very being, his very existence.
“What did you think I was going to do, cutie?”
She clicked her tongue at the petname, bringing her knees a little closer to herself. Away from him. This time, however, he looked at her as if he wanted to unravel even more of her, as if he was ready to untwist her bloody vessels from her heart. Oddly suspicious, he seemed.
“I don't know about mermen, but on land, men are merciless with lone women.”
Or so she heard. Still unmarried, which was unusual considering she was close to her nineteenth birthday. Rare were the times when she got the chance to go around the kingdom or even be alone, but she's caught maids whispering between them. She had been lectured by her mother that whatever may her future husband ever want, she shall be delighted to offer it to him. No matter what it is, because otherwise she'd be just a stubborn daughter and an ungrateful wife.
Rafayel’s expression morphed into one of astonishment. As if he, too, has heard of stories from above the waterline, about how humans treat each other. As if he has heard stories of weeping women that had lost a child at birth and were roughly handled by their husbands. As if he has heard a mother scolding her young daughter for being disobedient.
“You humans really are merciless, aren't you?”
“Tell me about it,” she snapped her head to the other side.
Shifting on the sand, she curled her arms around her knees and breathed in deeply. She didn't want to leave just yet — he was at fault for her reluctance. Rafayel hadn't lied when he called her curious.
The noises of sloshing water nudged her to turn her head back to the merman, who was shifting a little closer. Sitting on the sand with his tail still in the water, he leaned on one arm as he took her in. His gaze reflected hers; curious and intense, with a tinge of interest. Stripping each other of their skin. There was something similar to paint on his collarbones, running down his arms, but it didn't wash away in the waves. Her eyes lingered, until she got the chance to admire his tail.
The scales sparkled under the sun rays like the kind of gems nobles would cry for. Light nuances of blue and purple blended together perfectly and she might've seen those colors during sunsets, when the world around takes her breath away. It was huge — two times longer than the upper half of his body. Her fingertips ached to touch.
“Now it's my turn to ask what your intentions are.”
His low tone sent a dangerous shiver down her spine. Eyes widening for a mere second, she snapped out of her reverie. She was gawking at him, and he didn't seem to like it. If anything, he quite despised it.
“You're just pretty,” she reasoned all of a sudden.
Not even a second later, blush creeped up her face and reddened her ears. What was she thinking, saying a thing like that?
“I mean— I don't—”
“What don't you?” he arched his eyebrow at her.
Rafayel regarded her like a predator ready to snare, like someone who acted benevolent because it suited him. However, something much more tender was hidden behind that threatening tone. Vulnerable almost, like he, too, wanted to find more than cruelty in someone, like he was desperately holding onto a strand of hope. Although hope is just a fragile piece of glass, they clung onto it, hoping the other doesn't want to bring doom over them.
She felt like a fish on dry sand and it was an awful sensation. Such a commanding presence, suffocating, leaving her bare. Even as she wanted to search for more in the little cracks of his personality, it was a damn hard task.
“I don't mean anything bad by that,” she whispered, voice trailing off.
Unsure, confused. Worried that she might've said something wrong, even if usually a man's reaction would've been an attempt to flirt. Instead, he regarded her with caution.
For him, that compliment didn't sit right. On a normal day, a human would've already been plotting how to rip the scales off of him and bring him to tears. Instead, she wore a delicate expression, anxious.
“What is it supposed to mean, then?”
(He wanted to punish himself for the way his voice softened just a bit.)
“I mean that you're beautiful. Like art.”
“And what do you intend to do about that?”
“Look at you?” and now it was her time to awkwardly tilt her head to the side.
Not in a ‘I'll strip you of your scales’ way, but more like ‘you're too gorgeous to get my eyes off of you and I can't really help myself’. He didn't feel analyzed or looked at like he was an object, but more like… admired. Rafayel felt admired, the same way children look up at a whale's belly when it swims above them. The same way he looks at colorful corrals when he's playing hide and seek with the fish.
The princess could feel the shift in his demeanor, so she leaned in a little closer. Just enough to get a better look of his eyes, close enough to feel a cold scent waffling in the air. Close enough for a small smile to break on her lips when the top of his walls crumbled.
The merman averted his gaze with a faint pink tinting his cheeks. He really was like a piece of art.
“I might be from underwater, but staring it's rude,” he quipped, throwing her a glare.
It was half hearted, actually. Some of his pride swelled at being admired, and in such an innocent way nonetheless.
“I'm sorry about that,” she pulled her lips in a tight line and averted her gaze.
The sea was lapping at her feet and she stretched her legs just a little more. The midday sun warmed up the water and she couldn't help the urge to seek that comforting sensation. As if the water gained a mind of itself and was indulging into her childish needs, kissing her ankles but never going further. Shy.
“Why did you save me?” she whispered into nowhere.
Gulping down, the princess tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. After all, the stories she's heard about mermaids were awful at best; most of them ended with a bloodbath and sailors drowning in the sea as the creatures took revenge for their stolen tears and scales, for their ripped silky tails. A never ending cycle. Most stories spoke of beautiful maidens with long tails, but the one next to her was the most beautiful man she's ever laid eyes on.
And dangerous nonetheless — she could feel it in her chest, the waves of a threat lapping at her heart.
“I wonder,” he hummed softly.
This time, as she turned to take him in once again, he stared forward at the sea with a gentle expression on his face.
How long until he shows his claws and drowns her too?
III.
Rafayel never did. The sound of his name rolling on her tongue sounded like musical notes, strangely. Maybe he's already sung the song of her death and she's been put under a spell, maybe she was already going insane. She continued to seek him out, always slipping away from her chambers before dinner. When the sun basked in the cool of the sea and the sky was a splendid canvas of colors, she would sit on the sand. More often than not, the merman would emerge from the water and sit next to her.
One time, he caught her with a book in between her fingers. Knees bent, the princess rested it on her legs as she murmured something. The splash of water didn't seem to wake her up from her dreamy gaze.
“Princess?”
Raising her head, she locked eyes with the beautiful merman. He was resting on his front side, tail flicking playfully in the air. Rafayel wore a curious smile on his face, the colors in his eyes so similar to the sunset.
He was a sight to behold. The Gods above have created him to bewitch everyone that happens to lay eyes on him.
The merman wasn't necessarily surprised by the look in her eyes — it was to be expected and it stroked his ego. However, the tenderness sculpted in her features whenever she looked at him was queer. Humans were supposed to be sexually seduced, to lust over him. They weren't supposed to blink shily and wear a tiny smile on their faces. She shouldn't grin so… cutely at him.
“Hello to you too,” she hummed as she laid her legs on the wet sand.
“What are you reading about?” he found himself asking before he could stop.
Her gaze flickered between the book and the merman.
“Love poems. They're quite sad, though.”
“Aren't you a princess?” he arched his eyebrow at her, as if doubting her title as a future ruler. “With duties and stuff?”
“Oh, believe me, I've been buried with political issues and strategic plans until now. And not that I dislike them, they're quite charming, but I've had enough of them for today.”
At that answer, his lips twitched into a proud smile. So his princess was smart, hm?
“For a moment, I thought all heirs on land are puppets of their parents.”
With a roll of her eyes, she snapped her book closed. This fishie loved to tease her.
“The amount of arguments I get into with my family is proof that you're wrong.”
“Now that's a rebellious daughter,” he chuckled.
Tilting her head to the side, she shot him with a curious gaze. With one of his elbows digging in the sand, he rested his face into his palm, watching her. She wished she was a painter — maybe then she'd be able to stop the time in its tracks and capture the beauty of this scene. The princess wondered what kind of twisted pleasure people got from destroying the lives of other beings, ripping them away from the sea when they so obviously belonged there.
“What kind of hierarchies do you have?” she wondered out loud. “I suppose there has to be some kind of leader or ruler, right?”
“You're not wrong.”
However, he squinted his eyes at her. Cautious, it seemed like, because important information could always be used against him. Despite the palpable sincerity he recognized within her, the feelings she wore on her sleeve (as he had noticed in various stances when they saw each other), Rafayel was wary of her. A little.
Deep down, he wanted to get rid of that feeling of fondness that spoke her name. He denied and refused it, hiding it in the shell of his heart. A heart that shall be firm and strong, for everyone's sake. He couldn't be the son of the Sea in her eyes, or else everything could be ruined.
“However, you're far harsher with your titles of nobility,” he scoffed.
With a sigh, she looked at the book in her lap.
“There are a lot of issues, I have to admit. The children of nobility read of philosophers that believed in better worlds, but it seems futile on land. The classes are so carefully crafted, one cannot ever forget the birthmark of their social status. Is it like that amongst your kind as well?”
Sincerity. He hated it. He despised the honesty dripping in her tone like the sweetest of corals.
Staring at her for a little longer, he pondered on his answer.
“Our communities are tightly holding onto each other. We're all one. There's not much regarding wealth.”
“How come it feels like you know more about my world than I know about yours? Aren't you scared of being caught by the people if you poke too deep?”
With an incredulous chuckle, Rafayel ran a hand through his damp hair.
“Princess, sailors of nobles come with books on their ships. We got our hands on plenty of information. You truly are cruel creatures.”
Eyes widening slightly, she seemed to put together the pieces.
“Of course. No sailor can dive that deep into the waters, but it's easy to drown a ship. Genius,” she shook her head with a chuckle of her own.
Rafayel blinked and all of a sudden. He seemed like a cute fish with big eyes. (Gosh, he was so cute at times.) Confusion written all over his face, he silently waited for an explanation behind her reaction. She should be mad at him, should curse him and, worst of them all, call for some other stupid humans to catch and torture him.
The princess caught onto his reaction and all he received was a shrug. “I have heard of siren tails being cut off. My parents had received one as a gift on the 10th anniversary of their marriage.”
Rafayel felt rage curl around his throat like a vice. Gulping down, his eyes narrowed into slits as he tried not to snap at her. He wondered where her little speech will lead to. The neutral tone he was regarded with fueled the fire burning deep in his chest, beneath the same scales humans wished to pluck from his skin.
“I've seen pearls that craftsmen claimed to be made of a mermaid's tears and I have watched the King's most trusted knight wield a sword adorned with sharp red scales. Drowning our ships is the least you can do to avenge your loved ones.”
The merman was silent. As he continued to take her presence in and let the words sink in, Rafayel recognized a certain fear in the corners of her eyes. She gripped at her book, as if scared of what might happen to her for touching such a sensitive topic.
Tilting her head forward, the princess didn't dare meet his eyes anymore. Guilty and a little scared, all she could do was wait.
“It is the least we could do,” he hummed lowly, low as the thunder that booms in the sky. “We could've done much worse. At least we don't rape our prisoners and make slaves out of them.”
The truth felt venomous on the tip of his tongue and he meant it with his everything. The reality sunk deeper into her being and she nodded sadly. Wondering what could lead to such hatred between two rational species, she couldn't find an answer. (She was in no place to complain or act as a victim either, even if she could become one at any moment.)
Snapping his head towards the sea, for the umpteenth time, Rafayel questioned his sanity for spending time with her — with a human. He questioned his loyalty and morals. For a moment, he hated himself for choosing to follow his curiosity and see this human, this woman—
When his eyes snapped back to her figure, he saw the same mournful expression on her face. She couldn't possibly know what it means to lose some of your own because of the selfish reasons of another. That's how humans are — always greedy. She couldn't fathom such a thing, not to the extent he did.
However, something familiar was written on her face, something he's seen in his own reflection.
“Human,” he murmured lowly.
The princess raised her head with a hum.
“Do you wear those cursed pearls? Do you wield those venomous weapons? Do you admire the tails that are hung like portraits?”
Something within her chest curled and twisted like an animal, like his words had a life of their own and they twisted in her heart. And maybe they did, when her heart was too full with feelings of all sorts, when she wished things had been better.
“I don't,” she whispered in a tight tone, never shifting her gaze from him, not this time. She hoped, deep down, that maybe his hatred would be quenched if she was to be harmed.
A human. Stupid and egoistic. She hoped the lives that have been lost on land and in the sea would find peace.
“Do you search for mermaids and mermen when you sail?”
“I don't.”
With another huff, he looked away. Solemnly, he blinked at the still sea and gulped.
“Have you ever done something to get a mermaid out of a human's hands?”
“I have.”
That he hasn't expected. Once again, he was wary of her words, even if he couldn't sense any lies.
“Then maybe you'll be able to change something,” Rafayel wondered out loud.
Nothing was for sure. He didn't know if she would ever fall on the path of the ones who've raised her, filled with egoism.
IV.
She couldn't comprehend how she ended up glued to the merman she's been enamoured with. It was almost impossible, how fate turned her life upside down, how it brought Rafayel before her eyes and shifted the course of her future.
(The young lady had stumbled with her heels in the sand while she had been complaining about politics in an animated voice.)
He was even prettier from up-close, when she could admire the small scales on his cheekbone. They were barely visible and her fingers ached to touch. His usually pale skin was tinted pink on the sides and the tips of his ears were on fire. His calculated gaze had been long forgotten, instead replaced by the most adorable eyes she's ever seen — like a deer caught in the daylight. Long hair draped over the sand like a deep purple halo around his head; sometimes she remembered he was a siren, ethereal and out of this world.
Both his arms were curled around her waist. His grip was unsure — did he want to push her away or bring her closer? He didn't know.
What she didn't know was that her expression mirrored his. She was tense above him, as the material of her dress was absorbing the water on his body. Big, sweet eyes staring down at him while his heart threatened to burst. It swelled like a puffer fish, but it lacked poison.
Rafayel has probably put a spell on her, since all rational thoughts have been washed away when her hand rose. With the tip of her fingers, she traced the tender scales on his face. Scared, absolutely terrified of hurting him, she almost flinched away at first. However, the merman didn't wince. His gaze softened and she could feel his body melt underneath her.
“Isn't the dry sand uncomfortable on your back?” she asked in a voice as gentle as the sea breeze.
All he did was shake his head. Stealing a glance at her hand, he looked at her expectantly. Touch me again.
So she did. She cupped his cheek in her palm and caressed the soft, transparent scales on his cheek. Trailing her fingers down to his jaw, she leaned in closer. The tip of her nose pressed into his cheek and a smile bloomed on her lips.
Who would've thought love feels so warm? Who would've thought that she'd ever melt in the arms of a man, a siren?
Rafayel watched her with utmost interest. He knew she was smiling by the shift of her face so close to his and it only relaxed him further. He had to admit, the sand getting glued to his wet back was a little unpleasant, but he couldn't find it within himself to move.
“Cutie, are you trying to reverse our roles and seduce me?”
Her face turned red like a clown fish. Suddenly raising her head, she pressed her palms against the expanse of his bare chest. Frowning at him so cutely, Rafayel laughed with amusement. Throwing his head back as his shoulders shook with his laughter, he felt her halfheartedly hit his chest.
“Rafayel! You're a menace,” came out her annoyed complaint. “You stupid fish.”
“Smarter than you if I caught you with such a lame line.”
Of course he'd continue to tease her. Stupid fish. Gorgeous stupid fish.
Her gaze shifted to his exposed neck and she finally got the chance to admire the carefully crafted scales on his neck. It looked similar to the gills of a fish and they seemed just as soft as the ones on his cheeks.
He had a beautiful neck.
The princess was ashamed of her own thoughts. With a huff, she hid her face into the crook of his neck.
The merman's response was the shift of an arm that raised from her waist a little higher, until it was securely wrapped around her shoulders. Cold to the touch, he brought a pleasant chill down her spine when his fingers brushed over her nape, tangling in her hair.
“Princess,” Rafayel hummed in a low, gentle tone.
The lady in question didn't stir. She shifted above him, slipping her hands underneath his shoulder blades and holding tightly onto him. Her frown hasn't disappeared either. The merman could picture the pout on his princess’s adorable face.
With a noncommittal hum, she responded.
“Let me take a proper look at your face, cutie,” a sweet giggle escaped his lips.
“You'll tease me,” she scoffed, words muffled against his skin.
With a soft flinch, another giggle escaped him. Out of the blue, the alarmed lady above him raised her head.
“Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to. Am I too—”
Rafayel pressed his palm against her lips to shut down her babbling. She was certain she'd never seen such a gentle expression on his face.
“Your breath tickled me. I'm fine, pretty.”
With a tiny relieved sigh, she continued to look into his eyes. The hand on her lips moved lower and cupped the side of her neck, thumb pressing against her pulse. Life thrummed right under the weight of his finger and it filled him with an ineffable sensation. Heat raised to her face once more, but she didn't shift her gaze away that time.
She wanted to kiss him. But they knew what would happen then. They knew it'd bring a tragedy upon them.
Against better judgment, her heart ached to press her lips against his skin, against anywhere she would be allowed. To run her fingers through his long hair. She ached to be closer, to feel his chest against hers, to get rid of her annoying dress—
“What's gotten you so flushed?” he arched an eyebrow at her.
As if he didn't know. As if he didn't feel the love and the tension swirling in the air.
“Your hand touched my lips…” she started in a small voice. “Does that mean I can— that I can kiss you? Like, anything but your lips?”
Ashamed of her own question, she looked away. Rafayel felt her tense once again. Truth be told, if she paid enough attention, she'd see his widened eyes and the shock written on his face.
Curiosity got the best of him. No, love did, bringing to life something he didn't know could take such violent forms.
Something tugged painfully at his gut.
“You wouldn't kiss my lips?” came out his whisper.
“Are you insane?!” she snapped her head towards him. Wearing a frown, she gulped. “Of course not, Rafayel. I don't want you to disappear and I don't want you to suffer. Why would I kiss you if it was to hurt you?”
“Even if I wanted you to kiss me?”
The vulnerability in his tone put out some flames in her heart.
“You are, indeed, a stupid fish,” she clicked her tongue. “I wouldn't. You must have a very bad impression of me if you think I take your presence for granted—”
Her rambling had been stopped by the press of his lips against her neck. Yelping, her nails sank into his shoulders. Rafayel felt her shudder as a certain satisfaction coiled in his stomach. Her open mouth made space for a heavy breath. The merman licked at her pulse with the tip of his tongue and groaned. That beautiful scent of hers was on his tongue and he wanted nothing more than to take and take and take.
The poor heart in between her ribs was going to jump into the sea if he kept it up like that.
“Does that answer your question?”
“Ra— Rafayel,” she whined.
Moving his head away, he got the chance to admire the blush on her cheeks and her tightly squeezed eyes. He could see the parting of her lips, but his soul had already chosen her.
And he couldn't go against her wish, could he? No, that would curse him for the rest of his lives.
“I wish I thought that way about you,” he admitted in a shameful voice. That brought her attention to him. “But I don't. I can see that you care, cutie.”
“That's good,” she hummed as a smile curled onto her lips. “I wouldn't want you to believe anything else. Because I do care, Rafayel. I want you to know that, always.”
Always. Because her love was full of shifts, but it always kept on growing, it turned into a berserk beast-like creature who chewed onto anything that threatened to hurt what she loved.
Despite the fact that later that night, after they had parted ways, her parents will have an “important” conversation about her future husband. Despite it all, she loves him and she knows. Even as she cries with her face in her palms, she knows her love is there. Even when her hand runs down her neck, where his lips had touched her, she's wholeheartedly aware of her doom.
V.
“Do you want to come in the water with me?”
Once again, he emerged from the sea with a grin on his face. He's been watching her eye him, the way he swam, the way he seemed so at peace with everything. Rafayel seemed so happy, floating at the surface of the sea.
However, she felt stuck there, on the sand. Fingers curled into the material of her own dress as she looked at him with a frown and a small pout.
“You're sulking,” he taunted her. Such an annoying fish.
“I'm not,” she huffed, turning her head to the side.
From behind the huge stones where they were, she could only see the tower of her family’s palace. They had forbidden her from going in the water again, but that wasn't the same, was it? It would be a small trip, close to the shoreline, safe…
Safe. She would expect Rafayel to make sure she doesn't drown. Uncertainty gnawed at her heart.
The grip she had on her dress loosened. The light pink material curled in the breeze at her ankles and she sighed heavily.
“Cutie?”
This time, he was closer. Weight settled on the hands in the sand, he tilted his head to the side with a little frown. If she didn't know any better, she'd believe that was worry. Maybe it really was.
The princess had told her parents that it didn't matter, that the incident didn't change her relationship with the sea, the fondness she had whenever she was on water. However, in there was nestled a lie — a part of her was scared. Scared that a sudden storm might appear out of the blue, scared that something would be wrong with the ship, scared that the Gods won't be mercy and second time. Scared that there won't be Rafayel next time.
“You seem unsure.” It was, probably, the first time he's ever spoken so softly, so patiently. “But the Sea doesn't want revenge. It is us who do. She's benevolent.”
Rolling over, he sat on the sand and patted the place next to him. Without much thought, she settled next to him, knees pulled close to her chest. The dress raised up her calf a little, exposing her skin to the cool breeze.
“She nudged me to get you out of the water,” Rafayel hummed dreamily. He continued to look at her profile. “She wanted to save you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had a reason to save you.”
It was his honesty that made the young lady turn her head to him. Curiousity sparkled in her eyes, and as their gazes met, fire burnt in between them. Slowly, steady, like the flame of a candle.
“This time, however, I want you in the water. And I'll make sure you're alright. Also, it would be sad for you to lose your trust in Her.”
The princess blinked.
“Is She… like a God to you?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Sometimes She's merciful because you pay Her respects. However, She's at Her worst when humans harm one of our own. We're Her children.”
She nodded at him. A comfortable feeling washed over her. So She was like a Mother to them. Of course She'd seek vengeance once in a while, when Her kids are harmed.
Rafayel pushed herself back in the water, extending his hand towards her.
“I'll hold your hand.”
Sirens lure in humans and make them drown. They bewitch men and women alike with the sole reason to kill them. They're merciless and angry, always greedy to take one more life. Never trust someone who has claimed to live in the sea, for that is the home of monstrous creatures.
However, the merman before her eyes smiled sincerely at her, still waiting. Truth be told, she couldn't deny the magic of his words, of his presence. Something within her wished to see his long purple hair flow in the water like seaweed. She wanted to see him in all his glory, in the sea, happy and at peace.
Against better judgement, she took his hand. Standing up, she slowly walked into the sea, her feet sinking in the sand. One hand gripping at her skirt, she raised its hem at the front and walked with Rafayel as he swam. It reached her ankles, then her calf and her knees. By that point, holding her skirt up was to no use, so she let go of it.
If she returns back home and the dress is still soaking wet, her parents won't even let her get out of her chambers. But, she continued to walk deeper into the water, hand in hand with the merman.
Until the water reached her waist and she held her breath at the cold pricking at her skin. Gulping, she hasn't realized just how fast her heart beat, how her hands trembled. Rafayel took her other hand in his. He stopped her there, waiting.
“Everything alright?” he hummed.
Raising her gaze to his, she breathed in deeply.
The weather was good, it was the kind of weather sailors would thank the skies for. A few fluffy clouds floated far above the land and the water was calm.
The princess gripped tighter onto his hands. With a nod, she felt the fear being washed away. Instead, the hollow in her chest was filled with excitement.
“It seems like a yes,” the merman chuckled.
The young lady let go of his hands, only to step closer to him and curl her fingers around his forearms. A warm touch, reassuring and so endearing. Rafayel felt the air get knocked out of his chest at that tender touch.
“Can we go a little further?”
“Wherever you want, princess.”
And just like that, he guided her deeper and deeper into the water. At some point, he curled his arms around her waist and placed her arms around his neck.
“Do you trust me?” he asked the moment a flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes.
“I do,” came her immediate response.
“Then hold onto me.”
She did. The princess caressed his silky hair and got closer, their chests glued together. It lacked manners and courtesy, it lacked modesty, her wet clothes leaving little to the imagination. She could feel his body, every curve, every lean muscle. A light blush took over her cheeks, but happiness overturned the embarrassment.
She was in the sea. Swimming, almost, both of Rafayel's arms curled around her waist. He admired her like a precious gem, keeping her close, the warmth of her body seeping into his skin.
“You're so beautiful like this,” he smiled gently. “Happy.”
He watched those beautiful eyes stare up at him with wonder and fire, face lit up with joy. She raised one of her hands to get the damp bangs out of his eyes, caressing his cheek in the process. Her hand settled on his neck and he shuddered at the touch. The scales on his neck were soft and ticklish, but he relished in the sensation. Rafayel leaned in, his forehead falling on her shoulder as he held her in his arms.
Under the water, his tail flicked gently, keeping them at the surface. The merman stopped moving when she wrapped her arms better around his shoulders, leaving a gentle kiss behind his ear. There was a light scar there — she stared at it with worry. Without a second thought, she left another kiss. Rafayel squeezed her closer in their embrace.
“I hope… I hope you feel it. My affection.”
Despite the innocence of her words, a slight blush creeped up her cheeks. The tips of his ears turned red. The tenderness didn't leave enough space for embarrassment.
“All of it, princess,” he exhaled against her shoulder, his hot breath hitting her collarbone.
One of his hands splayed over her shoulder blades, keeping her near. It wasn't a prison if she wanted to be there.
Rafayel rubbed his nose against the base of her neck and her pulse quickened. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink in that scorching feeling.
VI.
Her heart ached. Her soul shook with pain and her body trembled with anger.
Her nineteenth birthday ceremony was supposed to be a thrilling event. To bring a smile on her face, a chance for her to forget a little about her duties and get some rest. Of course, a princess was always pampered, but she never took it for granted — thankfully, her parents had been down to earth and had taught her well.
However, there was one thing they completely failed at, and that was letting their daughter be free. Not because she'd give up on her duties, but because she was a daughter before being a princess.
Or so she hoped. The reality was that she's never been just a child, just a lady, but always a princess. A role, a pawn. A gift wrapped in the skin of a woman, because someone will inevitably take her hand and that someone will not be the one she loves.
“Your father and I had to learn how to love each other as well, dear. There's no running from your fate and purpose. You can't be that selfish, can you?” her mother had kissed her cheek in the morning.
A tear slipped down her cheeks, but there was no one to wipe it off.
“Eric is a devoted prince and he's been trying to court you for the past month. Today is your birthday and he will attend this special event. It is time that you marry someone and I wholeheartedly believe he is the best option out there,” her father had reassured her in a firm tone.
Her heart clenched, but there was no one to hold her.
“If you find another gentleman that suits your tastes better, we will not stop you. But, please, my dear, today is the day that you choose someone to spend the rest of your life with,” her mother had tried to soothe her.
Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, because she ached for the time to pass by faster so she could see Rafayel.
Eric had proven himself to be a true gentleman, charming even. He had kissed her hand with a polite bow and had bathed her in tender compliments. Just a few years older, he was mature and understanding. Patient and calm (and it didn't feel like a facade at all), his gift had been the most… gruesome of them all. Supposedly beautiful, but tragic.
When he opened the small purple box, the princess was greeted by the most mesmerizing and well crafted necklace she's ever seen. However, horror struck her when her eyes laid upon the purple scale that shone in the lights of the ballroom.
“It's a mermaid's.”
It was astonishing how similar that color was to Rafayel's scales.
Right then and there, she wanted to cry. She wanted to sink to her knees and wail, wished for that palace to crumble down into pieces. The young lady had rarely ever felt such pain, such grief pierce through her chest like a poisoned sword.
She locked eyes with her parents. Her mother smiled and silently ushered her to accept the gift.
“I have never seen such beautiful jewelry,” she lied through her teeth as she took the gift from his hand. (Their fingers touched and an uncomfortable shiver ran down her arms.) “I promise to treasure it. If it isn't too rude of me to say, I'd like to wear the jewelry my mother had gifted me tonight.”
An easy excuse. He didn't bat an eye, no one did.
***
Tears fell down her cheeks as she ran out of the palace. Most of the knights were busy at the gates; some of them were already drunk on rich wine.
Stumbling on the dry sand in the dead of the night, she slipped out of her heels and rushed to the shoreline. Sobs got caught in her throat every time she breathed into the cold air. It bit at her skin, the thin silky dress on her doing nothing to hide her from the cold, but she cared not. Rushing behind the palace, next to the enormous rocks she always hid behind when she was meeting Rafayel, the young lady cursed her life.
As expected, a special someone was basking in the light of the moon, in the flicker of the stars above. The night before she had told him she would be late to their usual meeting because of the ceremony and he had promised to wait for her.
“Rafayel!” alarmed, she spoke his name.
As he sat on the sand, the merman's head snapped to her and the wide smile on his lips shattered when he saw the tears on her cheeks, when he read the distress on her face.
“My love, what happened?”
Extending an arm towards her, he was delighted to feel the warmth of her hand against his. Before he could process it, she dropped into his embrace and curled her arms around his bare waist.
“Cutie,” he whispered in a honeyed tone. Rafayel ran a hand over her back — it was bare as the dress exposed her soft skin. “I'm right here. I told you I'm stronger than the sailors, haven't I?”
Dread rushed through his veins at his lover's display of vulnerability. Who could've brought her in such a state? What could've made her sob like that against his chest, what could've caused her such pain?
“Rafayel,” she had whispered his name once more, voice cracking.
The merman held her a little tighter as he kissed her forehead. With nimble fingers, he took off the intricate jewelry in her hair and laid them down. All of that just so he could run a hand through her hair, so he could feel her beneath his touch, so he could breathe her in.
Her silent sobs came to a stop and only then had he cupped her face in his palms, raising her head. Beautiful glassy eyes looked at him with a sadness so deep, so intense it cut through his heart, the heart engraved with her name on it.
“How come this beautiful birthday girl is crying, hm? What happened?” A soft tone that hid another million questions, a gentleness that disguised the heavy violence he was ready to inflict upon anyone that had brought her to such a state.
Rafayel was not a forgiving creature. No, he never forgot and he rarely ever forgave, because there's no place for forgiveness when someone so loved by him is involved. Where there's hatred, there will be love, and where there's love, there's violence.
“I have to get married,” she whispered.
Fear cursed through her veins. Will he let go? Will he leave and go back to the sea, will he deprive her of his soothing touch, of his loving kisses?
Rafayel hummed, lips pulled in a tight line. With a slight frown, he took a deep breath. His touch never wavered. (His love was stronger than a frivolous decision.)
“You've always known you'd have to, didn't you?”
“I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to deceive you, I only meant to—”
“To love me?” Such a soft voice, such a beautiful word.
Tears threatened to spill over again. Her nails left faint scratches against his pale skin, her body growing rigid beneath his hands.
“Yes,” she breathed out.
“I know.”
He knows. He knew there hadn't been any malicious intent behind her actions, he knew she'd kissed him with the hope of never having to let go, he knew she loves him. Loves. When they had kissed, when they were holding at that very moment, when they would kiss for the last time.
“You've said it dozens of times,” he brushed his thumb over her quivering chin. “Even when your lips didn't open, you've said it. When you kissed me, when you held me, when you cried with the fear of losing me.”
The princess's eyes widened in surprise. How could he—
“Whatever you feel when you think of me, I know it. I feel it too.”
Rafayel took one of her hands in his own and placed it on his chest, over his heart. It was beating wildly in the cage of his ribs, it beat with the love he harbored for her, it beat with devotion and intensity.
“That's how mermaids are. So when I tell you that I love you, it means you're the only one I've ever loved like this, it means I'll love you in every life to come. It means that my heart is forever yours, my princess.”
Her eyes glistened. Watching his gaze get watery, she pressed her palm against his chest and leaned in, so that her forehead was glued to his.
The Sea shook and its waves started to get violent. It hungrily lapped at the hem of her dress, at his tail. It was cold, but the warmth radiating between the two of them was enough. Rafayel held her against him, his grip secure and firm, unwavering.
The stars dimmed a little, as if they, too, had teared up.
VII.
“You will marry this man!”
The argument arised for the hundredth time. Her mother was exasperated because of her daughter's whims, as she's called them.
“I don't find anything in him, mother,” the young lady almost whimpered.
Her voice cracked at the mere thought of it, of having to let go of her merman and fall into another man's bedding—
No. Absolutely not.
“You'll have to find something,” her mother's tone softened at the edges.
The poor woman felt like she'd aged decades in the span of a few days, as she watched her daughter isolate herself more and more, always daydreaming, staring out the window and the mesmerizing sea.
“Is there anything we can do to convince you? You are nineteen, my dear. You must marry, it's already—”
“The sea.”
The woman blinked. Her face hardened.
“No. You know what happened last time.”
“Then I'm not marrying anyone.” Her daughter was not relenting.
The air was tense. Her mother's hands trembled and she sat at the edge of the bed, sluggish.
She had watched her husband come back from the sea without their daughter and the world had crumbled before her eyes. How could she allow such a thing to happen again?
“Mother,” the princess pleaded. “One last time on the sea. And I promise, I'll marry anyone. Just one last time.”
Because if they dared tie her down to a man on land, they'd strip her of her freedom to go on sea. They'd take away her life, they'd take away her air, they'd take away her lover.
The queen curled her fingers into her lap. What could she do?
“Fine. I'll… I'll talk with your father.”
***
“Rafayel,” she whispered, voice hoarse.
“I'm here,” the siren hummed.
He cupped her cheek with his cold palm and she closed her eyes. The color in her eyes had dimmed and he gulped down, watching as life slowly faded out of her. Slow, agonizing — with a wince, she gasped.
The pain in her stomach won't stop anytime soon and they knew. She was bleeding, the lilac nuances of her dress tainted dark. The piece of wood was stuck in her flesh and Rafayel was too scared of hurting her. He didn't try to get it out, for she would bleed even heavier.
Rafayel pressed his forehead against hers, his hair draping over the sides of their faces like a silky curtain. All he could see was her — and she wouldn't have it any other way.
“You were a fool,” he scolded her in a pained tone. Anger slipped through. “I told you there would be a storm today.”
“I know,” she smiled lovingly.
It struck him. She did it and took full advantage of the information. What she's done—
A desperate plea, that's what her name sounded like from his lips.
“You could've lived,” he hissed.
“I would've died sooner or later,” she shook her head.
“Marriage, that's all. Just on paper, if you were lucky, no expectations added.”
“That was just a dream, Raf,” she gulped, squeezing her eyes shut.
“You would've lived.” This time, it came out like a sob.
His pained expression mirrored hers. Tears burnt behind his eyes. She felt a tiny, round object fall on her cheek and roll down into the sand.
“No, no.”
With all the strength she could muster, she cupped his face in her palms and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. It was warm, and Rafayel had decided to let the warmth of her last moments be his doom. Resting his weight on his elbows, he placed one of his hands over hers, pressing her palm deeper into his skin. Tears that started out as droplets and quickly turned into pearls.
They slipped through her fingertips. Some of them fell on her neck, others in the sand.
“My love,” she stroked the skin under his eyes. “Don't cry.”
“You're dying,” and he's rarely ever sounded so revolted. The pink and purple in his eyes burnt — tears set aflame.
“I'm sorry,” she bit onto her lower lip.
He was panting heavily above her, shock coloring his features. Whenever he stared at the wound in her abdomen, he wanted to vomit.
“Please, Sea Goddess, please do something,” he prayed in an ancient language. “I'll do anything, so please.”
The princess couldn't do anything, except for watching her lover cry pearls. It hurt, the pain in her chest surpassing the one in stomach.
The storm hadn't stopped; it got worse, rain pouring down heavily over Rafayel's back as he guarded her from the rainfall. So strong it could've wiped away the tattoos on his skin, was he not a child of the Sea. Thunder shook the ground. She pressed her fingers against his cheeks as her head throbbed.
It didn't stop. Nothing had stopped; her bleeding, the rain, the pain in his throat and chest. It hurt and he wanted to turn back the time, back when he had decided to meet her again, so he could have avoided this tragedy. But he couldn't, not now, and not ever.
The tip of his nose touched hers as he leaned in closer. The gesture sank slowly in the princess's tired mind. She turned her head to the side fast enough to avoid his lips.
“What’re you doing?” she heaved.
She didn't even dare look him in the eyes, gulping as she spoke. Rafayel didn't move away, tapping her cheek lightly.
“I told you, didn't I? If I choose to love you once, I love you forever. And I'd rather die now, than by sorrow in a few weeks.”
“Rafayel, what are you saying?” Oh, Gods, she wished so badly she could cry, but it hurt so much.
“Sirens love once, my dear. Once for life.”
“Dying by sorrow,” she gasped. “What do you mean?”
“I won't make it past the second week after you pass away.”
It was weak, but she mustered the strength to hit his shoulder. Her stomach turned with pain, and the cries building up her throat tensed her muscles. A pained cry ripped from her mouth.
“And you dare tell me now!?”
Tensing, she groaned in pain. Clutching tightly onto his shoulder, she squirmed in pain. It hurt. It hurt so much.
“Rafayel, please tell me you're lying.” A sob.
She turned her head towards him again. His eyes only held pain. Another pearl slipped from between his eyelashes and rolled on the sand.
“No,” she cried again. Sinking her nails in his shoulder, she left behind red scars.
Red like the blood on her dress. Red like his love.
Her other hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck, curling into the strands of hair. Chest burning, body aching, something within her broke, right then and there. No amount of tears and rain could glue it back together. But it hurt Rafayel to watch her, so he kissed away the tears on her cheeks, breathing in her washed out perfume.
“It wasn't your fault to begin with,” he reassured in a soft tone. “I promise.”
“No, no, it is,” she choked on her own words.
Gently, he hushed.
“It won't hurt for much longer. I know.”
The Sea had bonded them together since the first time he had accepted her in his heart. Rafayel kissed her temple with a soft hum in his throat.
“I love you,” she whispered.
His fingers curled in the sand, a pained sound ripping from his throat. At that very moment, his heart beat solely for those words.
“Me too, lovely,” he pulled his lips in a thin line. “I love you too. You have no idea, do you?”
With a gentle touch, he took one of her hands in his and leaned over again. That time, however, she didn't budge. Her gaze was torn between his lips and his red-shot eyes.
“I'm sorry, Rafayel.”
“I'll curse this damned world to the ground,” came back his sour response. “May it burn. May no one ever know piece, may this storm never stop. May they never be happy.”
With a soft shake of her head, she closed her eyes. Her tears blended with the droplets of water running down his hair.
The siren hadn't stopped. He held her as close as he could, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“May the Sea never grant anyone mercy again, never again, my love. For as long as there's a drop of water in this world, they will know pain greater than their bodies can contain, greater than their hearts can handle. May the world never forget the pain, may it be branded in their very beings. May it haunt them and their graves.”
Raising his head once again, he smiled sadly.
“May each one of them hurt the same way we are hurting right now and a thousand times more.”
Against better judgment, she understood. At that time, she understood what it meant to lose something greater than you can handle. She was not only losing him and her own very life, but the hope she had. All of it, dead, burnt. The hope of a better future was withering. (And it shall wither forever.)
“May they hurt,” she continued in a soft voice. “For I have loved you.”
“And I'll love you even in the times to come.”
When their lips touched, the world had stopped spinning for a moment. A gentle touch, soft like a feather, tears mixing together, love pouring down in waves. It didn't soothe away the pain; no, it ached and throbbed, but their heart still beat for one more time.
One more time before his body began to twist and turn into seafoam, one more time before her eyes would never open up again.
One last breath, shared with a sour smile. Foam sank in the material of her dress, but the Sea refused to let that corpse be seen by the humans, even if it was theirs to witness. With a powerful wave, She took her body away into the depths of the water.
No amount of redemption could ever cure this mistake.
For once, the Sea listened to Rafayel's prayers. She listened and granted his venomous wish. She understood his grief and deemed the curse as worthy to take care of — a curse that shall haunt everything and everyone.
And the world has destroyed a chance for peace once again. They have unknowingly killed it, amongst the tears of a hopeful human and the bubbles of a siren's corpse. They have lost their chance for peace in between the lips of two lovers.
And the lovers? Despite being filled with worries, their ghosts shall dance on the surface of the sea ‘till the world will meet its doom and a little more.
A/N: I don't know if there things I should've changed or added, but after crying for half an hour I decided to post it just like that. I don't have any more energy to add filler scenes, like the one when she decides to throw herself in the water. Instead, I tried to add the information in their conversation, so it would still make sense.
✰ summary: Rafayel's beloved bride is gone and he couldn't save her
✰ pairing: Rafayel x reader
✰ content: angst, no comfort, sea god rafayel, fem reader
✰ w/c: 403
✰ notes: Rafayel sea god of lemuria omg. when watching the trailer, at first i was horny but then i cried and then i kept seeing angsty stuff so heres this angsty drabble of mc dying 💔👍, peep the quotes from canon
🪷Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
“Stay. Stay with me…please.”
Warm tears dripped from his dark eyes. The ocean swelled in sorrow beneath him as the sun beat down on his bare shoulders. Rafayel begged for you to hold on, to not let go. The limp weight of your body weighed heavily in his arms. The blood from the stab wound that he was forced to commit flooded into the water. It spread in a pool around Rafayel’s waist, staining his skin and scales. As if he needs another reminder of how he failed his beloved bride. The sound of the knife piercing your delicate flesh with his own hands is sure to mock him in his nightmares.
“Our bond…it cannot end this way! I won’t allow it!” Rafayel cried out, his heart aches like the ocean’s pressure is crushing his soul.
“I love you Rafayel…” The light from your eyes fades faster and faster. Rafayel is distraught. Pleading for you to keep living, desperate promises of healing you fall on your deaf ears as your heartbeat stops. He stops. The only sounds he can he are his own heavy breathing and the waves crashing against each other. His beloved bride. Is gone? She’s gone.
“No! No no no!” The Sea God mournfully sobbed. Pressing your cooling body to his own, Rafayel tries to envelop you in his embrace one last time but the lack of movement and life within your mortal body only serves to remind him how he failed you. What kind of god is he if he cannot keep his love alive? He presses his face into your neck, if only to breathe you in again while his hands caress your hair.
He gets a few seconds of you in his embrace before your physical body withers. Your body turns to dust and fades away. Nothing is left of you. Rafayel weeps. His tears drip down his face, turning into opalescent pearls as they fall into the ocean by the dozen. He stays where you left him. Even as the sun rises and falls, even as the ocean’s tides move from high to low, Rafayel stays stuck in place. Any remnants of pink, gone. The signature Lemurian colour for happiness is drained from his body. His hair is tainted a dark blue. His scales shimmer a glossy blue, the pink sheen lost.
The Sea God waits for a long, long time, yet you never appear again.
You could think of several ways to wake Caleb up in the mornings, but nothing seemed to beat this. Your long time friend and perfect lover, he only ever slept good when you were asleep him. If not, he was the lightest sleeper.
He blames all the DAA trainings like you haven’t known him to like this since childhood. Silly boy. Regardless, Caleb slept heavily nowadays. Which made it all the easier to accomplish your goal time and time again.
“So cute, Caleb.” Your voice is hushed in the quiet of his home, early morning light barely peeking through the windows. Your hand stays on his chest, letting him know you’re still next to him as you pull down the covers and tug at the band of his briefs. “Such a good boy.”
The praise is never ending, awake or asleep he’ll always receive the full force of your loving affirmations.
You had agreed some time ago that both of you were free use, whenever, wherever, conscious or not. It was fully consenting, no guilt ever lingering in your minds. Both of you enjoyed the thrill and the outcome every time.
“Are you dreaming about me? You’re already hard.” He slapped up against his abdomen, standing proudly for your hungry eyes and greedy hands. “Naughty puppy, Caleb. You’re always thinking such lewd thoughts.”
Your fingers pump him languidly, eyes watching the twitch in his brow as his sleeping expression morphs slightly from your easy movements. “I guess we’re both naughty.” You’re already straddling his thighs, reaching down to pull your panties to the side as you hover above him.
“Woke up aching because you fucked me so good in my dream.” You reluctantly let go of his cock, reaching between your thighs to feel the slickness that had oozed out of you, making a mess of the cotton that once covered you. “Gotta make it real, or else I’ll never be able to sleep.”
He’s hot and heavy in your hand, even hotter as you guide him to your entrance and slowly sink down. This time, Caleb’s mouth opens wider, brows pinching as a delicate groan slips past his lips. Still, he’s somehow asleep.
“So big, you fill me so good.” You’re warm all over, eyelids feeling heavy as you balance your hands on the bare skin of his toned abdomen. By the time you fully settle your weight on his lap, walls twitching around the sheer size of him, Caleb’s body is growing a bit restless.
“Don’t wake yet, baby. Let me get to the good part…” you brace your knees on the mattress, even if it doesn’t give you the best grounding to really ride him, it’s enough to do the lazy strokes you had in mind.
Your hips begin to roll, bouncing every few movements until you settle into a sloppy rhythm. It’s a dizzying mix of sensations, the bounce of your body has him pressing into that sweet spot while the roll of your hips stimulates your clit. You can’t help but gasp, his name a quiet prayer as your eyes flicker between his face and where you connect.
“S-shit…” you bite your lip at the sound, Caleb’s voice is still thick with sleep but he’s finally stirring. It spurs you on, hands moving from his abdomen to his chest as you lean over him. You’re moving faster, harder.
The noises that spill past your lips are uncontrollable, it felt like every breath had a whimper going with it. “Caleb… feel so good…” as if to uttered the sweetest of spells, Caleb’s eyes blinked open with a deep groan.
“Fuuuuck, pips… you’re crazy.” A smile finds its way onto your blissed out face, body collapsing into his as your hips now move messily to collide with his. “Was dreamin’ about you, you were doing exactly this…” his feet plant flat on the mattress, legs bending for leverage as he humps up into your dripping cunt. “What a nice surprise to wake up to, so perfect, pips. Could cum right now…”
You’re in heaven, wrapped in his warmth inside and out. His scent enveloping you as large hands hold the fat of your ass cheek. This is what you wanted from the moment you opened your eyes. “Cum in me, Caleb. Need it.”
Just like that, Caleb’s convinced he’s in heaven too.
Dearest writer, I would like to submit an order into your respected bakery! 🍞🥯🥖🥐
May I kindly get a NSFW A to Z Headcannon for Rafayel or Caleb? (or both if you don’t mind :3) I’m a huge fan of your writing and given that you are open for orders I figured I could try my luck in ordering something special 🙂↕️🥹
But ofc if this is too much of a hassle you may kindly ignore my order and move on 🤭🥹🥺 I shall kindly await for your response and I look forward to your masterpiece (even if it’s not my request) 💖
nsfw alphabet ⊹ ࣪ ˖ rafayel and caleb
cw.: nsfw. real porn links!! must be logged in twt to watch.
note: oh anon you'll make my heart melt:( thank you for your sweet words, my luv. i'm so sorry for the wait, i wish i had finished this much sooner >< hope this is good enough tho bc i lwk feel like i did a terrible job <//3
rafayel
a = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): Really good! Rafayel can’t stand being dirty after sex and won’t really rest until you and him are cleaned up so you two always end up snuggling in his bathtub while he massages your scalp and scrubs your body lovingly. If you're not too tired, talk to him. He wants to hear your voice. How was it? Did you enjoy it? Tell him everything, he'll listen. Rafayel holds you so close you think he’s actually trying to get under your skin, literally.
b = body part (their favorite of theirs and their partner): If you asked, he’d say he loves every part of you and he absolutely cannot choose. If he really had to answer… your boobs. They’re the perfect size, feel good on his palms, your nipples don’t have a single moment of peace. You have to physically pull him away before they’re sore and puffy. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³
on his body though… his hands, of course! It is with them that he creates his beautiful pieces and makes you come undone as his slender fingers press down on that spongy spot inside you.
c = cum (anything to do with cum): Will come anywhere you want if you ask him to but he really likes to see his cum dripping on your skin. Be it your stomach, your tits, doesn’t matter, he’ll go feral. As for the taste, it barely tastes like anything. It’s a bit salty and very watery but that’s it. ❤︎...
d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs): Really wants to photograph you. Be it during sex, just you touching yourself, anything. Definitely has a secret journal about you and wants to decorate it with your beautiful body and face. 100% has a polaroid of your tits on his wallet and has no shame at all.
e = experience (how experienced are they): Barely any. Listen, he has read erotica, studied human anatomy a thousand times and knows the human body like no one else but he never had sex with anyone but you so please guide him the first few times. Be vocal, he’s a quick learner, he’ll learn his way around your body in a second.
f = favorite position: Rafayel likes a position based on how easy he can 1. kiss you and 2. look at your face. Missionary lover, basic but nothing with Rafayel is boring. Sex with Rafayel tends to be SO romantic, he’s THE lover boy. He kisses you so sweetly, sucking hickies on your neck while his cock drags inside you slowly. Also looooves when you ride him! it’s a combo of everything he likes, you frowning in pleasure, your boobs bouncing AND you on top of him!! ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³
g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): Oh sex with Rafayel is never serious! He’s always trying to get a reaction out of you, be it trying to make you laugh by pressing a kiss to that ticklish spot on your neck or by making the stupidest joke ever. Your laughter gets him going more than he’d like to admit.
h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): First of all, yes, it is purple and second, he shaves very frequently. As a lemurian, he never had any issues with body hair since he didn’t have any. Nowadays, he’s grown used to shaving since his pubes sensory bother him.
i = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): Puh-lease, we are talking about Rafayel. The artist, the lemurian that lives and breathes for love, your one and only soulmate. Rafayel is obsessed with you, always has been, always will be. To have skin to skin contact with you, letting him see you bare and vulnerable and yet still trust him, it’s everything he’d ever wish for. Rafayel lives for romance, love and pure intimacy and he will show it to you in every touch, kiss and praise.
j = jack off (masturbation headcanon): Before getting together with you, if he was ever really pent up and stressed, maybe once or twice a week. After you two got together officially, he doesn’t see the point in masturbating when he’s always glued to your side. If you’re away for whatever reason though? I believe he can get pretty needy and maybe, just maybe, rub one off.
k = kink (one or more of their kinks): Does body worship even count as a kink? Well, doesn’t matter. How many times do I have to say that Rafayel is OBSESSED with you??? There’s nothing that makes him hornier than being allowed to kiss your body. Praising you in every single language he knows is not enough, he needs your soul to be tied with his so you can read his mind and deepest thoughts about how lovely you are. Also, voyeurism, Rafayel is a closeted perv. He likes to watch, to take his time eyeing his food before actually diving in. Seeing you touch yourself without his intervention makes the knot in his lower stomach grow tighter and his skin hotter.
l = location (favorite places to do the do): Rafayel is too possessive to have actual sex in public so that’s a no. Anywhere in his studio is fine if you’re comfortable! Buuut if you trust him enough, please let him drag you to the ocean. There are no interruptions, no important phone calls, no Thomas to accidentally walk in, it’s just you and him where he’s most comfortable. It doesn’t tire him to be in his human form but giving his body a break and finally being in his real, lemurian form, feels like a relief from time to time.
m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): When you’re more petty than him and talk back. FUCK he could bust a nut right there. Or the fact that as a hunter, you can manhandle him just as easy as he can manhandle you. OR the fact that you’re not scared of him in the slightest. He would never hurt you, but if he wanted, a single song would be enough to make you go crazy and drown in the ocean. You’re aware of that, you just don’t care. That’s what makes him go insane.
n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs): Share you with someone. Although he doesn’t show it, Rafayel is extremely protective and can be very possessive depending on the situation. Letting someone else touch you turns him off completely.
o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): #01 pussy eater. Rafayel loves your pussy ok, leave him alone… Can totally cum untouched from just eating you out and is not embarrassed in the slightest. Actually really good at it too, like, 100% a muncher. Def tries to make you squirt on his tongue. As for receiving? Sure! It’s never unwelcomed. Just know that he will return the favor 10x better. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³
p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): Rafayel can be both. There is no red and blue with him, there’s purple. Rafayel can’t stick to a single thing forever. During his heat, he’s rougher, manhandling you around and bending you in whatever position he judges comfortable in the moment. When he’s feeling needy and clingy, he’s gentle. Rolls his hips against yours slowly, kissing your neck sensually while praising you in lemurian.
q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Not a big fan but he isn’t totally opposed to them. For Rafayel, sex is something intimate and he wants to take his time with you. He wants both of you to enjoy the moment with no rush.
r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): That depends on how far you two are going. Fingering you under the table at a banquet? Sure, why not. Getting a bit handsy and making out? Lovely. Actual sex? No. Not happening at all. Rafayel, even if he hides it, is a possessive creature. Your sounds and body are for his ears and eyes only. You’re his and he’s not up for sharing.
s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): Normally, he can go for two rounds before falling on top of you tiredly. In heat though? He is not stopping. His mind breaks but his body still wants and needs more. Doesn’t matter how many times he’s come already, his hips do not stop against yours until he thinks you’re full of his eggs.
t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): Doesn’t own any but is not opposed to them. If you’re interested in trying it out and using them during sex, sure! He can work with that. Extra stimulation on your clit while his fingers are shoved on your cunt isn’t unwanted.
u = unfair (how much they like to tease): Now, is it really Rafayel if there’s no teasing? He is insufferable. He likes to see you work for it even though he knows damn well it’s him that will fold first in the end.
v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make): Sorry, he’s not holding back. He needs you to know how good you make him feel. His range is insane, he’d be grunting in your ear and suddenly his moans turn high pitched and beautiful. Rafayel can get whiny, he complains, he’s petty, he mewls and in the next second he groans and curses in his mother language in pleasure.
w = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): I need to spread the virgin Rafayel agenda… He is a lemurian, he’s bound to you in a level that no human would ever understand. There are no “friends with benefits”, “situationship”, “hookup”, Rafayel has been waiting for you and only you. He doesn’t need it to be magical or perfect, he just needs it to be you.
x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): The prettiest cock you’ll see in your short human life. It’s genuinely nice to look at. Rafayel’s cock is pale, with the prettiest pink tip and cutest mole on the length that if you kiss, his knees buckle weakly and his head spins. It isn’t thick but it’s curved up and it drags deliciously inside you. I’d say #c7b2ab for the length and #d9a3a3 for the tip. In his human form, solid 6,7 inches (17 cm).
y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Lemurians are creatures with many cycles. Rafayel has a high libido naturally, but during ebb day and his heat? He is trying to crawl under your skin. Ebb day makes him needy, sensitive and whiny, he just wants an effective way of cooling off. His heat quite literally makes him feral, he wants you and if you consent, you’re not leaving the water at all. At least not until it is over.
z = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward): Pretty quick. After he’s sure you two are clean, comfortable and satisfied, he’s hugging you close and burying his face in your neck sleepily. If you feel like it, you two can chat. Rafayel loves pillow talk. If you’re tired and wish to be quiet, then it’s time to nap.
caleb
a = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): THE BEST. King of aftercare. Knows everything you want and attends to every one of your needs. You want water? There’s already a glass on your bedside table. You’re hungry? You want him to cook or do you want to order takeout? He’ll do it. You feel dirty? Let him run a bath for you- you get the idea.
b = body part (their favorite of theirs and their partner): In your body, definitely your ass. Always has been. Doesn’t matter what you are wearing, be it those old pj’s from your childhood, a new pair of undies, nothing at all, it all makes him feel like he’s gonna bust a nut on his pants.
He really likes his arms. Caleb has always worked out a lot since highschool and he’s really proud of how far he’s come. He likes how big they’re compared to yours, how he can manhandle you during sex and roughhousing, and how comfortable you look in his arms when you two hug.
c = cum (anything to do with cum): If you allow him to cum inside you, that’s all he’ll ever want to do. Caleb has a huge breeding kink, and the fact that you trust him enough to let him fill you up drives him mad. If you go down on him, he never lets you swallow it, he feels too bad to do so. Makes you spit on his hand and honestly thank god. It’s thick and slightly bitter but he cums so much you WILL choke. ❤︎...
d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs): Sigh, is it really a dirty secret if you already caught him at least twice? Caleb’s interest in your underwear is pathetic. At this point he’s not even trying to hide it anymore, he’s just shamelessly going through your drawers to find that old and stained pair you forgot to throw away. Bonus point if you catch him sniffing them and complain about it. Secretly likes when you scream at him and say “Gross, Caleb!”. Also wishes you let him keep your undies on during sex, it really turns him on.
e = experience (how experienced are they): None. Caleb has never felt any attraction to anyone but you his whole life. For years he has been waiting for the right moment for both of you so, you’re his first and last.
f = favorite position: Backshots. He loves your ass. There’s nothing better than taking you from behind, a hand wrapped around your waist while the other smooths the skin of your back. Also really enjoys being inhumanely close to you, doesn’t matter the position. As long as you two are close, you, safely in his arms, he’s happy. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³ ❤︎...⁴
g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): Caleb wishes that you only see his outgoing and playful persona, created just for you and the sexual aspect is not different. He likes to make you laugh at any and every moment. If you whine in pain because his cock is too big, he’ll blow a raspberry on your neck to distract you and make you giggle. He’ll tickle your waist if you talk back. Anything to make you smile.
h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): It’s trimmed. Not all shaved and smooth but it isn’t unruly. Has the sliiiiightest happy trail peeking up his boxers. If it bothers you though, he’ll shave it in a minute.
i = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): Very romantic. At least he tries. Caleb wanted to be your prince charming, your knight in shining armor his whole life. Sex is one of the many ways he wants to prove he’s the best for you, that around him, you’re safe and can be yourself with no fear. He kisses you gently, whispering the sweetest words ever in your ear, massaging every sore spot in your body while wishing he’s worthy of your praise too.
j = jack off (masturbation headcanon): Yeah… During his teenage years, he jerked off a lot. Caleb had a high libido but could not have the only person he wanted so all he had was his fist. Nowadays, before and after you two got together, i still believe he jerks off alot since you two are still very far apart, you living in Linkon and him in Skyhaven, though he prefers coming to you rather than fucking his fist by himself.
k = kink (one or more of their kinks): As I mentioned previously, Caleb has a huge breeding kink. Part of it is because he genuinely wishes to start a family with you in the future but also because he feels so close to you this way. Loves to keep his cock plugged inside you for a while before actually pulling out. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...²
His praise kink goes both ways. He’s always praising you for all of your achievements, not only sexually. Please praise him back, he’s trying his best for you, always. Tell him he is making you feel good, tell him you love him, that what he’s doing feels right. He might come on the spot.
Do I even have to mention his size kink… He is bigger than you. Caleb goes weak at the thought of being able to manhandle you into whatever position he wants you to be. And if he can press down on your tummy and feel his cock abusing your cunt? Ohhh yeah, yes he came. Don’t judge him. ❤︎...
l = location (favorite places to do the do): Caleb can only actually relax when he’s alone with you at your apartment or his. Preferably yours back in Linkon. He feels tense in Skyhaven and is always on alert. In Linkon though, he can let himself relax better knowing that you’re safer. Not a fan of kitchen sex specifically. That aside, anywhere is fine.
m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): You’re horny? So is he! Caleb has been waiting for you for years, saying he’s pent up is an understatement. Just say the words and he’s already looking at you with puppy dog eyes, waiting for an order.
n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs): Anything related to impact play. No. He hates the thought of hurting you and finds no pleasure in such things.
o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): Zero skill, no experience, but he has a dream. Show him how you like it, ride his face, pull his hair, order him around, hell, sit on his face. He’s a quick learner once he sets his mind onto something. 100% a giver and doesn’t want you to go down on him because it’s too “degrading” and he feels bad. Please go down on him. He’ll complain and try to pull away but he comes SO quickly, cock twitching, grunting, knees buckling and all. ❤︎...
p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): … Rough. Listen, he doesn’t mean to be rough but he can’t help it. Your cunt makes Caleb malfunction, overheat and shut down. He’s dumbed down at the slightest clench around his cock and his hips have a mind of their own, snapping against yours harshly as he drools and kisses your shoulder in apology.
q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Actually likes them! You two are always very busy with your jobs and being distant from each other most of the time isn’t easy. To him, quickies are more about you than him. He wants to get you off so you feel at peace. He can rub one off later and you don’t have to concern your pretty head over it.
r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): No. Caleb hates, hates, hates the thought of taking risks with you. He’d rather die than having you be seen in such an intimate way. As for experimenting, yes of course! Be open with him, tell him what you’re into, what you want to try… Your wish is his command.
s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): From the lack of experience, Caleb can last two rounds max before you tire him out. That does not mean he’ll leave you unsatisfied though. He still has his mouth and fingers ready to satiate you. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...²
t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): Absolutely not. Are you trying to get him killed? Caleb is jealous of anything that breathes the same air as you and you want him to accept the idea of having something else making you cum? Just shoot him already.
u = unfair (how much they like to tease): If anyone is being teased, it’s him. Although you two play fight a lot, Caleb isn’t one to be a tease during sex. He has been waiting, planning for this moment for years. Everything needs to be perfect. He can wait to get under your skin later.
v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make): He tries so hard to be quiet… he wants to focus on your moans, your moans are the pretty ones, not his. Caleb holds back, bites his lip, hides his face on your nape but nothing can make him shut up. The moment he enters you, he’s moaning, huffing and grunting like an animal.
w = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): Caleb really enjoys all the attention you give him when he’s looking all scary and dominant in his colonel uniform. He knows you eye him hungrily when gets home, he won’t take the uniform off on purpose, he just waits to see how long it’ll take for you to fold and come sit on his lap, grinding your cunt on his clothed thigh. Won’t admit it but likes when you call him colonel, sir, mr. xia, etc.
x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): Alright mr. fat cock pack it up. It’s thick alright. I can totally picture him saying “biiiig stretch, pips” while shushing your whines. Thick base, thick and veiny length, fat tip. That’s what he's hiding in his boxers. 6,6 inches (~16,5cm) that stretch you out SO good, the veins drag inside you soooo nicely it feels like heaven. #a88479 for the length and #a66d5b for the tip.
y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Oh boy, do I even need to say this? We are talking about THE yearner. Caleb’s super pent up and dare I say he has a pretty high libido. He is always stressed because of work and he has been waiting for you for years. The moment you consent, he’s fumbling with both his and your clothes.
z = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward): He usually doesn't sleep after you two have sex. He’s too busy watching you sleep to do so. Caleb is only at peace if he is sure you’re safe and comfortable. Poor boy barely has time to catch his breath as he’s running around the apartment getting everything you might need and want so you don’t have to leave the bed. Tell him to relax, ask him to lie down with you, bury your face on his beefy chest and make sure he doesn’t leave the bed, he needs it.
⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)
Calling the LADS Men to say goodbye because you weren't going to be making it home to them.
A/N: MC isn't reincarnating this time sorry. Artist @/am_soul_art on insta
[Requested by: nocturnaoasis]
It was supposed to be a quick mission. The intentions were good and the plan was perfect. At least thats what the higher ups thought at the Hunter's Association. The plan was to take back Hat Island, the small island right off the coast of linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter's Association believed that their strength in not only numbers, but also Evols and skills had improved enough to take back the small island.
They were wrong. So very wrong.
It was a suicide mission from the start; the wanderers were too smart there was never a chance. You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers that had evolved over time inhabiting this island. You watched as comrade after comrade was slaughtered right in front of you. The number of Hunters was decresing quickly and there was no help coming. You held your side for dear life as blood gushed from your wound. You accepted your fate right then and there. You weren't making it back to Linkon.
You managed to find a small cave on the side of a mountain where you could make one last call.
Zayne
The phone seems to ring forever you were afraid you weren't going to hear his voice in your last moments. Just as you thought it would go to voicemail he picked up.
Zayne: Hello
MC: Zayne....
Zayne: Yes I'm here
You couldn't help the grin that overtook your face.
MC: Remember our trip to find 'old popsicles'?
Zayne: Of course I do
MC: Remember when you swept me away from my friends to go read in a secluded park?
Zayne: Yes ... where is this coming from?
You took a deep breath before coughing and grunting form the pain.
MC: I just want you to always think of our good memories ... I don't think we'll be making anymore after today
Zayne: What are you saying?
MC: They're gone ... they're all gone ... and I don't have much time left.
You finally broke down and sobbed into the phone as reality truly set in.
Zayne: Wh-
MC: Promise me you'll move on ... I want you to find something or someone to bring the same vivacity that I brought you ... don't shut yourself off from the world ... I want you to be happy ... remember me in a good light because just know I died doing what I love
Zayne: ....dont leave me behind
MC: I love you Dr. Zayne......
Zayne didn't hang up he stayed on the line until he could no longer hear your stuttering breaths. He couldn't keep that promise of moving on. He threw himself into his work to keep his mind busy. He was afraid if he slowed down for one second he'd never be able to recover.
Rafayel
He picked up on the first ring as if he'd been waiting by the phone just for your call.
Rafayel: Hey Cutie!
He sounded so happy at the fact that you called it was already killing you that you'd be breaking his heart with this call.
MC: You know you create the most beautiful art
Rafayel: You're making me blush stop it
MC: I'm going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you Raf
Rafayel: huh?
You swallowed hard trying to keep your voice from wavering.
MC: The next time you're on the beach and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise ... that's me ... painting the sky just for you
Rafayel: No no no you're-
His words became panicked as you quickly cut him off
MC: I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left ... I'm not making it back to Linkon ... I'm sorry
Rafayel: I can come to you just tell me where you are
Tears streamed down your face as your voice broke at the sound of him falling apart on the other end
MC: Im running on borrowed time right now Rafayel I just wanted to tell you that I love you ... so much
Rafayel: I love you too
Your head was already swimming you didn't even realize you muttered.
MC: Good ... good.......
Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after that. Thomas would always find him sitting on the beach with red eyes and a camera to capture the sky that you painted for him.
Xavier
He picked up on the third ring w/ a groggy voice; he'd been asleep.
Xavier: My little star
His voice brought you a kind of comfort that no words could describe.
MC: You made a good call getting sick this week you know that?
You couldn't help but giggle at the situation.
Xavier: What are you going on about?
MC: Remember how pretty the stars were that night we danced in the forest?
Xavier: Yea they were almost as beautiful as you
He always knew how to make you feel like the prettiest girl to ever exist.
MC: Well next time you gaze at the stars the one star that seems to twinkle and dance just for you ... that'll be me
A brief moment of silence....
Xavier: You're not saying what I think you're saying
You could hear rustling on the other end knowing he just sat up.
MC: I'm sorry Xav ... I'm so sorry ... I promised I would make it back to you, but thats a promise I can't keep anymore ... I'm losing blood fast I can already feel myself losing consciousness
Xavier: Hang on I'll be right there
And there it was the choked sob that finally slipped out of you as you responded.
MC: It's too late Xav ... do you love me?
He was quiet for a moment before you heard his low raspy voice respond.
Xavier: Yes. Of course I love you with everything that I am
Those words brought one last smile to your face and you finally let your eyes drift closed.
MC: thats all I wanted to hear ... I love you Xavier..........
Xavier was never the same after that. He spent his days training to get stronger to the point where his hands were bloody. No one could get through to him not even Jeremiah. At night he swore he could hear your voice as he gazed at the stars.
Sylus
Sylus: Hi sweetie
MC: I love you!
You heard his breath hitch and then silence. You had rendered Sylus speechless with the three words he always wanted to hear.
Sylus: Why so sudden?
MC: I never got the chance to say it to you, but I couldn't go without letting you know
Sylus: where-
You quickly cut him off because there wasn't much time left. You could quite literally feel your life slipping through your fingers.
MC: this mission was doomed from the start ... I'm not making it home to you tonight ... I'm sorry ... there’s no pain though so I must be dying
Sylus: Stay right where you are I’ll come find you
MC: Don't .... it's no use ... thank you for everything I was always happiest with you
You smiled as you admitted that to him; it felt good.
Sylus: Stop you're not dying on that island
You sniffled as tears began to sting the back of your eyes.
MC: it's too late ... just ... just tell me you love me
Sylus: but-
MC: Sylus please
Sylus: I love you My Queen
MC: Music to my ears........
Sylus still tried to look for you, but could never make it onto the island for the wanderers were too strong....even for him. Mephisto did however manage to find you and brought back the necklace Sylus had given you. It now sits on a mantle in a glass case.
"I'm homeeeeee!" you chirped, your voice echoed throughout the hallway as you drunkenly swung your apartment door open. The world spun slightly as you stepped inside, struggling to maintain your balance while attempting to kick off your shoes. Just as you started to fall forward, a pair of familiar arms encircled your shoulders, pulling you into a warm, solid embrace. Your head collided gently with a broad chest, the scent of his soft linen scented cologne mingling with the faint smell of alcohol on your breath.
"Welcome home," You looked up to see your silver haired lover, your vision slightly bleary but managed to capture the sight of his constellation filled eyes. You broke down into a grin, a slightly lopsided one. Without a second thought, you brought his face closer to yours, closing the distance and planted a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. Once. Twice. Thrice. You could never get enough of how soft his lips are on yours.
You could feel him gently pulling you back, his nose wrinkling as the smell of alcohol became more apparent. "You're drunk," he stated the obvious as he inspected your face. The apples of your cheeks were flushed red, and your eyes were glassy. You responded with a giggle, snuggling closer into his chest, your arms wrapping around him to keep yourself on your feet.
"Mmmmm, carry meee, Xaviiii." you whined, your voice muffled against his shirt as you swayed both of your bodies from side to side. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, trying your best to give him the most convincing puppy look you could muster. He sighed, knowing he was powerless against your whims. With a small shake of his head, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the couch where he sat down with you on his lap.
As you settled into his embrace, you began to blabber, words tumbling out in disarray which didn’t really make any sense.
However, this is Xavier we're speaking of, meaning he would listen to you anyway, his hands gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears, every touches of his being tender and patient with you. Perhaps you have not realized it, but he cherished these moments with you, even the smaller ones due to the fact such memories are fleeting, like moonlight fading when the dawn sparks anew.
Suddenly, despite your hazy vision, your fingers suddenly cupped his cheeks, pushing his head lightly from left to right, as if searching for something in the familiarity of his face. Finally, you squished his cheeks and giggled softly, relishing in the softness of his skin, reminding you of a big fluffy marshmallow.
"Xavierrr~~"
You cooed while he responded with a chuckle, attempting to pry your hands away.
"Are you from the future?"
The man in front of you flinched, his eyes widening as they locked onto your bleary ones. The scent of alcohol was still heavy lingering in the small space between your lips and his, making the air heavy with unspoken words.
"What makes you think that?" Quick to regain his composure, he asked and deciding it was best to humor you, telling himself you didn't mean any of it. Besides, you were drunk after all.
You squinted at him, as if trying to see past the veil of time. "I..I don’t know...you just seem familiar to me.. but I uh *hic*..I..uhhh.. I don’t even know who you are. Like... you know like how fishes are in the seaaaa, and the clouds are in the sky and you are... you’re from the future..."
Your silver haired lover almost laughed at the absurdity of your rambling. But he could not deny that you were not entirely wrong. He placed his hands on yours that was still cupping his face, and gently moved them to his shoulders, adjusting your position as you slumped against him.
"Y-you *hic* always go disappearing on me," Your voice quivered, vulnerable. "As if you have a mission. *hic* Sometimes I wonder what your mission is. Does it involve the future? W-wha *hic* happened there? What are you trying to fix... or undo? You're carrying so many burdens, but yet you're still so, so determined."
The silence was heavy as he stayed silent, merely listening as you poured out your heart.
"Am I... am I in your future?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
You were crying. You could not help but let your tears flow as your quiet sobs were muffled against his neck, clinging onto him as if he would slip away if you don't hold him close.
"If you really are from the future... if *hic* you accomplish your mission... what will happen to you?"
"M-my *hic* my star..." Through your hazy vision, you saw how your lover's eyes widen, as if you caught him like a deer in the headlights.
No, perhaps you were mistaken.
You didn't catch on how his breath hitched in his throat at the familiarity of that title, a bittersweet reminder of the path he chose to thread, for you, all for you. You didn't catch on how he felt like he was suddenly frozen in time, it was as if you had reached across the threads of time to remind him of what you and him could have been if it wasn't for the cruel script by the universe. Longing. Sorrow.
"I... I don’t want to lose you too."
His heart shattered at your words, at the raw fear and desperation in your voice. There was so many things that your lover wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that everything would be okay, that he would stay, that you wouldn’t lose him like you had lost so many others.
But fate has always been cruel and it demanded sacrifices he wasn’t sure he could escape.
He opened his mouth to say something, to offer you some kind of comfort. Xavier's mind scrambled to find the right words, but before he could, he noticed your grip on him had loosened, your body falling limp in his arms. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the gentle rhythm of your breathing, and the barely audible snores that escaped your lips, each were clear signs that your body has drifted into slumberland.
Xavier could feel how his heart ached as he looked down at you, your tear streaked face now peaceful in slumber.
A memory, that memory- a memory transcending a few lightyears suddenly surged in his mind, a cold wave of fear crashing over him. You were there in his arms. You were asleep. A deep, eternal sleep. Dead. In his arms. He froze, his heart racing as he looked back at you.
He could feel how he felt back then, the way your body turned cold in his embrace. The empty weight of it.
But now, you're here, alive, warm, your breath steady against the curve of his neck. He could feel the soft press of your body, the way you fit so perfectly in his arms, like you belonged there.
His hands shook as he pulled you closer. His grip faltered before he clenched it tighter, a reminder to himself that you were real, not a corpse in his embrace. That you were alive.
Tears welled up in his eyes, silently spilling over as he buried his face against your sleepy form. Grief. Desperation. He couldn't lose you too. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
Time was running out. 214. 214. 215 is getting closer, nearer.
Xavier. Your knight, your lover. He will do anything, anything, just to make sure you're safe, to make sure you're alive. He could never fathom the thought of losing you again, and Xavier would do anything, gladly trade his immortal life, his freedom for the certainty that you will be alive, breathing, real.
angst with comfort. they have a nightmare where they lost you.
sylus
You were in the N109 Zone for hunters business, and he only found out from Mephisto. Sylus got on his bike and rushed over to your location to demand answers. Why are you there? Why are you alone? Why didn't you tell him anything?
Once he saw you in the middle of a battleground surrounded by unconscious bodies and wrapping a bandage around your left arm, Sylus's breath hitched.
"So the kitten got scratched, despite how ferocious she is." He reached out to help you with your bandage, but you took a step back and frowned at him.
"Don't touch me."
"Oh?" He raised a brow at your cold tone. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, sweetie?"
You gritted your teeth and turned away from him.
"Stay away from me, Sylus."
Confusion flashed in his eyes. You didn't look like you're in a joking mood, and the way you looked at him with empty eyes felt like a stab to his chest.
"What's wrong?" he asked carefully, not taking a single step towards you just in case you start running away. "Have I done something to piss you off?"
"Done something?" you laughed bitterly. "What haven't you done?"
No, there wasn't just emptiness in your eyes. There was disgust. Repulsion, directed at him. You haven't looked at him in that way for a long time, and he was reminded of how much he hated it.
"Sweetie, let's talk -"
He made the mistake of reaching out to touch you, so you slapped his hand away and jumped back.
"I said stay away from me! Don't.... don't talk to me anymore, don't follow me, just don't.... just stay out of my life! I don't want to be with a monster like you!"
A monster.
So, that's what it was.
He can't say he was surprised.
He always had a feeling that one day, you'll come to your senses and ask yourself, how could you ever love someone like him?
Looks like you've finally woken up from whatever spell he put on you. Now, you want nothing to do with him.
"Stay away from me." You took even more steps back, your figure was starting to merge with the shadows. "Goodbye, Sylus."
His feet were stuck to the bloodstained ground as he watched you disappear in his life forever.
Suddenly, he became aware of how cold the air is, and how quiet it is around him. His heart twinged, as if he'd been pierced by multiple daggers. His body felt numb and empty.
Standing became difficult, and his eyes felt like anchors that demanded to be shut. He gasped for air as he feels his chest tightening, but he only felt even more drowned.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't move.
He wanted go run after you, but bloodied hands had sprung out of nowhere and started pulling his feet deeper in the ground.
"Sylus..."
"...."
"Sylus."
His eyes opened and squinted from the setting sun's light that slipped past the curtains of his bedroom windows.
"Hey. Are you okay?"
He sat up and frantically scanned his surroundings. He ran a hand through his hair and felt all the sweat that were on his forehead.
"Sylus?"
His eyes slowly met yours, and they lingered for a long time. It's as if he's waiting and searching for something.
"You had a nightmare, right?" You looked at him with concern. "Are you okay? I'm gonna go get you a glass of water. I'll be back - "
"No, wait."
Sylus caught your hand as you tried to leave. His thumb caressed the back of your hand and observed it for a moment before taking a deep breath.
"Just stay here with me. I just...need you here."
"Okay." You sat still next to him and let him fiddle with your hands, as it seems to be giving him comfort. "What happened? Are you okay?"
Sylus tangled his fingers against yours, keeping his eyes on your joined hands. "You're not...." He paused for a second as he felt his throat drying up nervously. "You're not repulsed by me, are you?"
"What?"
"You know what l've done.... What I do, and who I am. Do you still... Do you still...."
You were quick to understand what he was trying to ask, and what he might have dreamt about.
"I love you." You looked into his eyes that seems to lack its usual life and confidence. "I know what you do and who you are, and I still love you, Sylus. Whatever happened in your dream.... it's not real."
He closed his eyes and let your words sink in deep in his heart, replaying them to forget about the painful words you threw at him in his nightmare.
It wasn't real.
What's real is you, in front of him, holding his hands and you telling him that you love him.
What's real is you caring about him and sticking by his side even when he's feeling vulnerable.
Sylus' silent reply came with a lingering kiss on your forehead. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and guided you to lie back down. Once your back is flat against the soft mattress, Sylus pulled you close to him.
Even though he didn't say anything, you felt his gratitude with the way he embraced you with such warm, gentle, and secure arms.
As he closed his eyes, he continued to replay the words you told him.
At last, he was gifted with a peaceful dream.
///////
xavier
Surrounded by speck of lights, Xavier spun you around as you and him dance slowly underneath the stars.
You two were on your way home after a dinner date when you heard music blasting from a nearby concert venue. Live music echoes throughout the park with the big water fountain, completely empty since it's already quite late.
Xavier gazed at the way your face lit up as you laugh after suddenly losing balance and almost stepping on his feet.
"You didn't accidentally drink alcohol tonight, did you?" He held your hands tightly to keep you stable.
"Of course not! I just got a little dizzy, that's all."
"Maybe you just need to sleep more." he says half-jokingly as he rested his hands on your waist. "Instead of leaving the bed so early in the morning, you should just wait for me to wake you up. I'll be your alarm clock."
"Pfft. If that's the case, we might be sleeping forever." You cupped his face with your hands as he looks at you with bright eyes.
"That doesn't sound too bad." he whispers, leaning closely to brush his lips against yours. "I don't mind, as long as you're next to me. We have all the time in the world."
Just as he closed the distance between your lips, you suddenly froze and moved back.
"Hmm? What's - "
You let go of him and put a hand on your chest, right over your heart.
"It... it hurts..."
Your face suddenly turned pale.
"I - can't b-breathe..."
Xavier felt his world stop as your legs gave out. His arms stopped your knees from hitting the ground, and his body became numb after feeling how clammy your skin had gotten.
"X-xavier...."
He found himself struggling to take a breathe, too.
He was petrified.
He didn't know what to do.
It was happening again. He was losing you all over again, just like in every life time he had with you. Just when he thought he finally got it right this time, just when he thought he'd get his happy ending...
He couldn't lose you.
Not now. Not again.
He has to do something.
"Xavier..."
His vision suddenly darkened. You vanished completely, and he couldn't feel your body at all. It's like you'd turned into dust.
"No..."
"Xavier..."
"Where are you?" he cried in panic, desperately looking around for you yet not a single light welcomed his eyes. He called out your name repeatedly, but your voice was fading away.
"Where....."
"Xavier!"
And in an instant, a flash of light embraced him. He opened his eyes and the first thing he sees is you, sitting next to him and looking at him with wide, worried eyes.
You were wearing pajamas rather than the fancy dress he last saw you in. There is no fountain, and you were not at a park. You two are in his apartment, in his bedroom.
"You...." His heart was racing as he looked at you for a long time. "You're..... you're...." His throat felt tight and dry.
You took his hands and held them tightly. "I'm right here, Xavier." You pulled him into your arms and rested his face against your chest. "Everything is fine."
He closed his eyes and exhaled as he heard the sound of your stable heartbeat.
You're here and you're okay.
"I thought...." Xavier groans and shakes his head. He'd rather not recall that nightmare. "I'm... I'm glad you're here."
You held him tighter, feeling his body's warmth returning. "I won't go anywhere."
You took the hint that he didn't want to talk about what got him shaking and breathing heavily in his sleep. Sometimes, it's good to talk about nightmares, and sometimes it's better to just let it fade away.
"It's around five in the morning." you told him. "The birds are gonna start chriping soon. Do you wanna step out with me to see them?
"Yeah." he smiled against your chest. "I'd like that."
////////
rafayel
It was his own fault that you ran away from him. He was feeling sick, particularly due to his Lemurian nature, and he blurted out that he needed some time away from you for a while, right when you were trying to take care of him. He was overwhelmed and frustrated, and he told you something he didn't mean.
And now, you're gone.
The house and the beach have never felt so empty and lonely.
He couldn't recall when was the last time he'd seen you and heard your voice.
Rafayel finds himself sitting in front of an unfinished painting of the one he loves. He'd memorized the expression you wear when you'd admire the sunset with him after collecting sea shells. He painted that precious memory just so he can see your face outside of his head.
He wondered what you would think about your portrait once he shows it to you.
He waited and waited.
But you never came back.
Rafayel couldn't remember. Has it been weeks? Months? Years? Did another lifetime pass? Will he have to search for you again?
Of course, he'd do it. He'll wait for you and search for you for as long as he needs. For as long as he can.
But he really thought this lifetime would be it. He thought, maybe, you won't lose each other this time. He had everything he wanted, and yet...
You left him again. You'd given up on him.
If only he could turn back time, he'll find a way to show his true feelings. He'd find a way to keep you close and never let you go.
If only....
"What a mess you are."
"....huh....?"
That was your voice.
His eyes snapped wide open to see you looking down on him. He was sitting down on a chair and his head was down on a table, on top of the unfinished painting of you.
He had fallen asleep with paint all over his face and clothes, though he didn't care about that.
Was it all just a dream?
Was he given another chance?
"You... Are you really here?"
You tilted your head at the sound of his weak voice. "I am. Mostly, I'm here to check up on you because I thought you wouldn't sleep. I'm glad to learn that I was wrong. You were talking in your sleep."
He was saying some things in Lemurian, so you didn't understand. Though, he clearly looked upset, so you contemplated whether to wake him up or not. Nonetheless, his eyes opened at the sound of your voice, no matter how quiet you tried to be.
"You're here....Even though I...." he looks away, feeling his stomach churning with discomfort. "Even though I pushed you away...." He looked down at the portrait he'd been working on. "In my dream, you left and didn't come back. I was waiting for you, but you weren't coming. I thought I wasn't going to see you again, and I was.... I was scared."
You felt your heart drop as his voice quivered. You stepped towards him and pulled him into a hug, catching him by surprise.
"Rafayel..." He buried his face in your stomach. "I'm not going to leave you. Sure, you can be a little dramatic and moody. Sometimes, you overwhelmed and frustrated. Sometimes, you'd want space, and that's perfectly okay."
He wrapped his arms around you tightly.
"I couldn't resist staying away from you for more than five days." you laughed. "That's why I'm here. To see how you are."
"I..." he looks up at you and flashes you a smile. "I'm feeling better now that you're here."
"Good." You caressed his face and wiped a speck of paint that was on his chin. "Now let's get you cleaned up."
"Okay!"
///////
zayne
Zayne exited a patient's room just in time to hear the commotion out in the hallway. He could hear Yvonne giving out orders. She's trying to sound calm, but he could tell that she was shaken by something.
He took five steps right before an unconscious body was brought in a stretcher.
His eyes noticed the hunters' uniform first, torn and covered in blood. Then, there was the gaping wound on your stomach. Lastly, your cold, paling face.
Zayne dropped the clipboard that was in his hand. His feet acted on their own and rushed to your side, shakily calling out your name.
His hands shook and his vision blurred.
"Doctor Zayne!" Yvonne came up next to him. "She's - "
"I'm her primary doctor. I'll -"
He was stopped from entering the room that you was taken into.
Instead, Greyson came running in, but not before giving Zayne a look of sympathy. "I'll do all that I can to save her."
"I'm going in too."
Yvonne put a hand on his shoulder.
"Doctor Zayne... She's going to be okay. We can trust Doctor Greyson."
His breath comes out raggedy as he tries to calm his pounding heart in his tightening chest. "But I'm her physician. I'm the one that should be treating her."
"I'm sorry, Doctor Zayne."
He knows the rules, yet he found them hard to follow at the moment.
Doctors are generally not supposed to operate on anyone that's close to them, such as a family member or a partner, due to several complicated ethical matters.
But still, he should be the one to treat you.
What was the point of him becoming a doctor if he couldn't save your life?
"Let me...."
"We're losing her!" someone exclaims from your room.
Zayne felt his vision spinning. He tried to get to you, but his legs stopped working.
Why couldn't he move?
He needed to see you. To save you.
Move.
Save her.
There's no time.
Move.
Move, or else she's going to....
"Zayne!"
His body felt as if it had been pulled out of a frozen lake. He gasped and shot up from his seat, finding his legs working perfectly. He's inside his home office and he had taken a nap right on his desk.
"Zayne! Are you okay? I heard you screaming so I -" you failed to finish your sentence as you were suddenly pulled in his arms.
Your feet lifted from the ground while you wrapped your arms around his back. Zayne rested his face against your neck and took a deep breath and a slow exhale, tickling your skin.
From where your hands are, you could feel him slightly trembling. He must have had a horrible nightmare.
"I never want to feel that again." he whispered, pressing you tighter against him. "Please, don't go."
You ran your hands up and down his back. "I'm not going anywhere."
Zayne didn't leave your side for the rest of the night.
////////
caleb
After all these years, he couldn't believe he finally got what he wanted. You're by his side, not just as your childhood friend, but as your lover.
Out of all the people, you chose him.
It felt too good to be true.
And maybe that's why you were once again taken from him.
One day, he received a call from your boss. Apparently, you had encountered someone from Ever and got in a dangerous fight. You were taken to a hospital, so Caleb instantly left Skyhaven to see you.
He entered your room with a basket full of apples. "Pip-squeak, you look terrible."
You stared at him with a deadpanned expression.
You had bandages wrapped around the top of your head, since that was where your main injury is. Aside from that, you had minor bruises and scratches on your arms.
"Tough crowd today." He sat on the chair and held your left hand.
You pulled away quickly.
"Huh? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
You blinked at him with confusion. "....Who are you?"
"...." Caleb lets out a chuckle, even though his heart had already dropped. "That's not funny."
The look on your face told him that you weren't in the mood for jokes either.
"You.... you don't remember me?"
You shook your head. "I'm sorry, but I can't remember..."
His entire world felt like it came crashing down.
All the memories he'd desperately tried to preserve. All the moments you'd spent together, from when you were kids that were nothing more than lab rats, to when you both started living with your grandma, to when you reunited after the incident, and to when you started to become lovers. All of it is gone.
You're looking at him with nothing but confusion in your eyes.
You didn't even want to hold his hand.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." Behind his pained smile, he clenched his fists even though he could no longer feel them.
This is all Ever's fault.
He is going to make them pay for hurting you and taking away all of your precious memories, stripping you of your identity.
"While you recover, I'll look after you." he told you while holding an apple towards you. "If you need anything, just let me know."
"Okay."
Despite your reply, you never came to him for help. Even when your injuries got better, you refused his offers to look after you and keep you company.
You never asked about your old memories. You weren't even trying to regain them. It's like you'd turned into a new person, and he had become a stranger to you.
You were his entire world, but he was nothing but a fragment of your past that you no longer know and care for. He was nothing to you.
It should be fine, right?
You're alive. That's the most important part.
You were safe, and he's going to make sure you stay safe, even if he has to stay in the shadows.
So, why does it hurt so much?
Why did getting out of bed feel pointless? Why does he check his phone, knowing he hasn't crossed your mind at all? Why did his shoulders feel heavier and his chest tighter?
He just wanted to see you. He wanted to hear your voice, calling his name to show him something silly so he can laugh with you.
He wouldn't mind if you get angry with him for all the stupid things he'd done. As long as you know he's there, as long as you look at him, that's enough for him.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Caleb almost fell out of bed at the alarm ringing in full blast.
"What....?"
He wasn't in his dark, lonely room in Skyhaven. He's in your bright and colorful apartment, on your warm bed.
And there was someone humming from outside the room.
Caleb slowly got out of bed and followed the source of the humming that had his heart racing and swelling, warming up his body that had been feeling cold and empty just seconds ago.
He enters the kitchen and finds you cooking breakfast.
Suddenly, breathing became ten times easier.
You yelped as you were hugged from behind. "Caleb! Don't scare me like that!"
He smiled against your shoulders. "It's you that scared me to death, pip-squeak."
"Me? What do you mean?!"
"Nothing." He pressed his lips on your right cheek. "So, what's for breakfast?"
It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real, and it's never going to be real. He'll make sure of it. He will never let anything happen to you for as long as he lives.
All he ask for in return is for you to keep looking at him with the same light of love and happiness in your eyes.
Xavier lies on the couch, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His hoodie is slightly rumpled, one arm dangling off the edge of the cushions.
You approach quietly, drawn by an irresistible urge to feel his warmth. Without hesitation, you slide into the space beside him, immediately seeking the comfort only he can provide.
Xavier stirs, his eyes fluttering open briefly. For a moment, his expression shifts—the corners of his mouth lifting slightly—before his arms instinctively wrap around you.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, voice thick with slumber. “You’re here.”
You press closer, burying your face against the soft fabric of his hoodie, inhaling deeply. His scent envelops you completely—familiar and grounding.
“You’re so warm,” you whisper, feeling the day’s tensions begin to dissolve. “I could stay like this forever.”
Your bodies fit together perfectly, the rise and fall of his chest gradually syncing with your own breathing. The world outside fades away as you focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
“I don’t mind if you do,” he replies quietly, his fingers finding their way to your hair.
His eyes close again, but that subtle smile remains—a sight that makes your heart flutter. Here, in the silence between you, words become unnecessary. When he adjusts his position, it’s only to draw you closer against him.
As consciousness begins to drift away, you tighten your hold slightly, unwilling to let go even in sleep. The last thing you register before falling asleep is Xavier pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his silent way of saying everything words could never quite capture, and his arms securing you against him—steady, reliable, exactly what you needed.
𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄
The sight of Zayne seated on the edge of the bed, still in his day clothes but with his collar unbuttoned, sends a wave of longing through you. Your body aches with the need to be held—specifically by him.
“I need fifteen more minutes,” he states without looking up, somehow sensing your presence. “Twenty, at most.”
You retreat to the bedroom, arranging yourself among the pillows, the wait almost unbearable. Every minute crawls by as you imagine the feeling of being gathered against his chest, surrounded by his warmth. The pull toward him is almost physical, a tightening sensation that only his touch can release.
True to his word, exactly fourteen minutes later, the soft pad of slippers against hardwood signals his approach. Relief floods through you at the sound.
He appears in the doorway, and you extend your arms instinctively, the need for his closeness overwhelming all other thoughts.
“You’re early,” you note with grateful surprise.
“Apparently, I can do my tasks faster when I know you’re waiting,” Zayne replies.
The mattress dips as he slides in beside you, and you waste no time pressing yourself against his chest, your arms wrapping around him with desperate need. His body is warm against yours, and you sigh with contentment as his scent surrounds you.
“I’ve been needing this all day,” you confess against his shirt, feeling the tension finally release as his arms encircle you.
Zayne shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers to study your face with the same intensity he gives his most complex cases. Whatever he finds makes him pull you closer, adjusting his position to maximize your comfort.
“Better now,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around you before you feel him press a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment.
𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋
The urge builds throughout the day—a growing, insistent need to feel Rafayel’s arms around you. You find him by the window, humming softly as sunlight bathes his figure. The sight of him—so vibrant and alive—only intensifies your craving for his touch.
“Rafayel,” you call softly, arms already half-raised in anticipation.
The moment he sees you, understanding dawns immediately. He spins toward you with a flourish, meeting your unspoken need without hesitation.
“Perfect timing. I was just thinking of you,” he says as he closes the distance between you in quick strides.
You collide with him halfway, arms wrapping around his waist, face pressed against his chest. The contact sends immediate relief coursing through you—like cool water after a long thirst.
“You smell like the ocean and sunshine,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt. “I couldn’t resist anymore.”
His arms encircle you completely, lifting you slightly as he backs toward the overstuffed couch in the corner, understanding your need without explanation.
“Then you shall have me,” he declares, falling backward onto the cushions and bringing you down with him in a tangle of limbs. “For as long as you need.”
You settle against him, fingers clutching at his shirt, drawing him closer still. He smells of turpentine and sea salt, of creativity and freedom. Your body relaxes completely for the first time all day, the desperate need that drove you to seek him out finally satisfied in his enthusiastic embrace.
You sigh contentedly, ear pressed against his chest to hear the steady rhythm of his heart. His fingers find their way to your hair, twirling strands around his fingers as your breathing synchronizes with his. Outside, seagulls call to each other, but neither of you makes any move to break the perfect connection.
“Stay just like this,” you whisper. “I don’t want to let go yet.”
His laugh bubbles up in response, the sound vibrating through his chest against your ear. “Then the rest can wait.”
𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒
The longing strikes without warning—an intense need to be held in Sylus’s arms. Nothing else will satisfy this particular craving; only him.
You make your way to his room, the journey giving you time to acknowledge how completely this need has consumed you. You find him standing by the window, the city sprawled below.
He turns at the sound of your footsteps, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he takes you in.
“Well,” he says, setting down a glass of wine, “this is a pleasant surprise.”
Words feel unnecessary as you approach him, arms already reaching for him, need written plainly across your face. You press yourself against him, inhaling his distinct scent, feeling your pulse steady at the contact.
“Don’t reschedule on my account,” you say, voice slightly muffled against his chest, though you make no move to pull away. “But I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”
“Simply my company?” he murmurs against your hair, arms encircling you with practiced ease.
There’s something warm in his tone as he guides you to sit, arranging you both so you’re nestled against his chest, exactly as you’d been craving all day. His fingers trace idle patterns along your spine, releasing tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying.
“Tell me,” he says, tilting your chin up, eyes searching yours. “What brought on this sudden need for closeness? Not that I’m complaining.”
The city lights reflect in his eyes, catching on the edges of his features as he studies you with uncharacteristic patience.
You shake your head slightly, unable to articulate the bone-deep longing that drew you here. Words seem inadequate to explain how completely his embrace satisfies something essential within you.
“Just wanted to be close to you,” you answer simply, settling back against him, feeling the rightness of being exactly where you belong.
“Hmm… I wonder what you might demand next.” Yet his arms tighten around you. Outside, the city continues its evening pulse, but here, in this moment, his attention is focused solely on you, as though nothing beyond this room matters.
𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁
Caleb tosses his uniform jacket over a chair, his face lighting up the moment he spots you lingering by the bedroom door. In an instant, his professional demeanor melts away completely.
“Caleb,” his name escapes your lips, arms already outstretched.
“There you are,” he says, voice warm with affection as he closes the distance between you in long, eager strides. “Best sight in the entire galaxy.”
His arms are around you before you can respond, lifting you slightly as he spins once, the movement playful despite the strength evident in his embrace. When he sets you down, he doesn’t let go, instead dropping his forehead to rest against yours.
“Please tell me you’re waiting for cuddles,” he breathes, already walking backward toward the bed, guiding you along. “Because after that strategy meeting, I’ve been thinking about holding you for approximately four hours and seventeen minutes.”
Your arms wrap around him eagerly, face pressed against his chest, breathing him in deeply. The contact sends immediate relief flooding through your system, like finding shelter in a storm.
“The entire room feels cold without you,” you confess, clinging to him. “Want cuddles.”
“Then you’re in luck,” he murmurs against your hair, already walking backward toward the bed, keeping you firmly in his embrace. “Because holding you happens to be my specialty.”
The back of his knees hit the mattress and you follow him down eagerly, arranging yourself against his chest, unwilling to allow even an inch of separation. His scent envelops you—warm and comforting.
His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he presses a kiss to your temple. Through the view beside the bed, stars streak by in ribbons of light, but his eyes remain fixed on you.
“I could hold you like this forever,” he whispers against your hair, his arms forming a protective circle around you.
In this moment, wrapped in Caleb’s arms, the rest of the universe fades away—leaving only the two of you, connected exactly as you needed to be.
This is my first fanfic in years, so please be nice T^T I'll be doing ones with a similar concept for the rest of the boys too
Concept: Xavier has a nightmare, you comfort him
CW: hurt/comfort, spoilers for his anecdote, death of character (in dream), blood, nightmares, bit of fluff at the end, she/her pronouns for reader
Masterlist
He swayed on his feet with every step he took, he had to keep moving, yet every step he took made burning pain shoot up his side. The cuts on his face sting in the cold air, blood long dried and flaking on his skin.
He has to make it back. She’s waiting for him.
It’s been so long since he last saw her, her bright eyes, a smile that lit up his heart. It’s been so long since he felt her warmth, her hand in his, fitting perfectly like two pieces in a puzzle.
He looked down, the protocore in his hand held firmly. He was going to save you if it’s the last thing he did.
He kept walking, one step after another, each step closer to her, to the place he knew she’d be, the place they first saw the stars together, a wish placed upon each star that shot through the sky above them.
He finally spots her, on that trestle bridge.
And then he’s running, running, running, pain long forgotten, until she’s right there, right in front of him.
She looks pale, bags under her eyes, cheeks hollow with the weight that she lost.
She was beautiful. In his eyes, he could only see the girl he fell in love with.
The girl who seems to be withering away in front of his very eyes.
A sense of urgency, of desperation, overcame him. He holds out his hand, still trying to catch his breath, the shining protocore cradled carefully in his palm.
They exchange a few words, and she reaches out a hand, resting on his cheek, wiping away the blood that clung to his skin. He nuzzles into her cold palm, eyes never leaving her but his sight getting more blurry by the second, tears threatening to spill down his face, sorrow and love painted across his face.
“It’s too late.”
Her eyes water, streaks of tears spilling down her own cheeks as he cradles her right back. Before he knows it, they’re sitting side by side, her weak body leaning against him, arm around her back holding her close, the other hand holding hers, lights, like fireflies, floating around them.
“I wish to meet you in my next life… I wonder if that will come true…”
“It will.”
Her eyes fall closed for the last time, and panic takes hold in his heart. He calls her name, over and over, until the final breath leaves her lungs.
She’s gone.
… She’s gone.
Sob after sob spill from his lips, her name falling from his lips like a mantra between broken breaths, arms holding her fragile body close, not wanting to let go, never wanting to let go.
With a pained whimper, Xavier’s eyes fly open, sitting up as dread settles into his very core. The stabbing pain in his pounding heart seemed like it would never stop, his eyes flying around the room searching for you. Finally they settled on your form, nestled in the sheets next to him, unmoving. His stomach dropped, fear seized him, his breaths coming out sharp as a shaking hand moved over to your form, quickly settling on your hand, his fingers searching desperately for a pulse.
You had to be okay, please be okay.
Your eyes fluttered open with the sensation of your wrist being held tightly in someone’s warm grip.
“Xavier?” You muttered softly, the fog of sleepiness still clouding your senses. His blue eyes snap to yours, hazy and unfocused, and all you can focus on is the terror reflected in them. With that you were very much awake, calling his name more firmly, “Xavier? What happened?” You sit up quickly and reach your free hand out towards his face, stroking the still flowing tears away.
“... You’re okay…” He breaths out, relief flooding his features, more tears spilling down his face. Without a second thought, you pull him in, resting his head on your chest, arms wrapping around him. And the moment he hears the steady thud thud thud of your heartbeat, a choked sob escapes his throat, his arms pulling you closer than ever, holding you tightly like you are his last lifeline.
With a steady breath, you whisper softly, “Shhhh… you’re okay… I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” You try to sooth him, your hands running through his silky blonde hair. You don’t know what happened, but you can put two and two together for now, it must’ve been a nightmare, a bad one at that. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look like he does now. Lost. Frightened. Terrified.
Some time passes, the sobs dying down, arms still clinging to you tightly.
“I’m sorry for waking you up.” His voice is soft, still rough, raw with emotion, his head burying itself deeper in your neck.
“Don’t apologise sweetheart. I’m here, always. I’m always going to be here. Don’t hesitate to wake me up next time, okay?” You murmur into his ear, fingers running along his back in soothing motions, “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head, drawing in an unsteady breath, “No. Not yet at least. Just… let me hold you, please.” His voice breaks slightly at the end.
“Okay. But When you’re ready, I’m here okay?”
“... Thank you.” He mutters softly, as the two of you move to lay down, still entwined in each other’s embrace, his face still buried in your neck, feeling and hearing your pulse beating continuously and reassuringly.
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