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29 y/o

[leenkeyluc]

⋆˙⟡ — If You Love Me For Me Pt.2

part 1 here

pairing: king!sylus x f!pauper!non-mc reader | regency AU!

cw: inspired by barbie’s princess and the pauper or a retelling, but with lads characters instead, heh; mostly fluff and being silly, nothing is really serious here, implied singer reader, completely unhinged

synopsis: you had become a princess—a wannabe, but to save the royal wedding! you feel the itch underneath your nose, that skye isn’t who he is, and it’s only a matter of time before your cover is blown. what’s going to happen when your wig gets snatched? like literally?

wc: 3.9K words

a/n originally, it was supposed to be a quick, short one-shot, but there were too many plot holes and no emotion built up with the many time skips, so here we go! ending might feel rushed, sorry but i had fun writing it according to what sylus would actually do haha.

ᯓ★ dividers are all by ©mieluno and ©pixopix on tumblr!

“Hm? Yeah, I know. I’m also bored.”

You’ve gone from a seamstress to an animal whisperer—you wish. You still can’t understand the caws and coos of your birds.

It was a day Skye couldn’t join you for your tea time. Zayne hasn’t barged into your room to drag you out of the plush bed and nag. Where had all those people gone to?

Now, you resort to talking with this crow who joined your entourage with your dove. Walking aimlessly in the garden, you hadn’t realized you had entered the forest behind the palace.

“So, who’s the princess’s secret admirer? Oh, I’ll let you in on a secret… I’m actually not the princess,” you whispered to both of your birds, which they couldn't care less.

“I suggest not walking further, Your Highness!”

You stopped immediately. Eyes wide, you looked for the source. No, because that just made you want to bolt off.

You counted to three in your head, hands gripping your skirt. You ran, startling both birds on your shoulder as you started taking off.

“Oof!” Two pairs of arms caught you. You squirmed, stepping on their feet.

“Ow! Ow! Kieran, hold her tighter.”

“Ow! I’m trying, Luke!”

“Your Highness, we’re under King Sylus’ orders to keep you safe!” The masked man on your right, Luke, exclaimed. “You went too deep into the forest.”

“I did?” You stopped moving, finally feeling your feet back on the ground. 

When did the area get so dark?

You flinched at the rustling bushes. You hadn’t realized you were holding on to one of them until a bunny hopped out. Sighing in relief, you finally took a good look at the two wearing all black.

“Yeah, we’re here to guide you back to the palace. It’ll be sundown any sooner.” The masked man on your left, Kieran, spoke. “We mean no harm, Your Highness.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I hit you earlier. Are you both okay?” If Caleb ever knows you hurt his underlings, you’ll be done for—wait, they said King Sylus.

“We’re fine! We’ve been scratched by a bear before.”

“And a tree almost fell on us, but we’re alive.”

You blinked at these two… guards? Crazy masked guards?

Shaking your head, you started walking back with them. “How are you both under King Sylus’ orders? His Majesty is not even here,” you asked.

You could see them staring at each other before they both looked away. Both of your birds had found their refuge in each of their shoulders. 

The more you looked at them, the more you remembered seeing them before Skye sent them back to the kingdom. 

“Well, we’re his attendants! He sent us back here to guard you.” Luke said. “We arrived this morning. We’ve been keeping an eye on you whenever you go out.”

“Inside is off limits?” you asked just in case.

“Of course. His Majesty’s orders.” Kieran hummed, patting the dove in his hands right now. 

You are weirded out, but then again, it makes sense. As a princess—fake princess—you still should have personal guards. Emcee has Caleb, then you have these twins. Which makes you wonder, where was Caleb when Emcee went missing? 

“We didn’t know Mephisto was with you all this time.” Luke grinned, moving his hands up and down with the crow in his hands. Mephisto stayed still, already used to it.

“...Mephisto?” Your crow has a name. All this time, you’ve been calling them Caw and Coo. Mephisto is much cooler. You should think of a name for your dove.

“This is His Majesty’s bird. He personally took care of Mephi since he got injured.” 

Something doesn’t add up—everything doesn’t. Why would the king’s attendants, even a bird, come to a far neighboring palace when the king stayed in his kingdom? Or were you looking into it too much?

And the crow gave you a bracelet. Does that mean he intended to give it to the princess? 

Skye’s face and his expensive laugh came echoing in your mind. You were suspicious now. “I heard the ambassador is his closest aide. Is that true?”

“Yes, he makes the decisions if His Majesty is not around.”

“Cooo?” Even your dove feels disturbance in the force, head tilted.

“Are you under his decisions or His Majesty?” you asked once more. You swore you could feel them grinning underneath their masks.

“His Majesty’s!” In-sync.

You smiled. Great loyal subjects, you want to pull off your wig. You were sure Skye wasn’t who he is now… how will you confront him with this?

The walk back towards the palace was livelier than your one-sided chatter to your birds. You found out they were twins. Their mannerisms mirrored each other. 

You even forgot how you needed to act like a princess around them. It’s been a while since you laughed that much.

Emcee sure will have it nice if she were to marry the king.

“Did you have a pleasant walk, Your Highness?” 

Ah, speak of the man himself.

The twins had watched you crack your back to be straight after the relaxed posture. They went into place as well, guarding behind you, as if everything snapped back into place—despite the man having seen and heard the three of you being loud from afar.

“Yes, it was pleasant.” You smiled, folding your hands on your skirt. “Your attendants are very accommodating.”

“You will be meeting them more often once you are married.” He chuckled, offering an arm to walk inside the palace. “They are His Majesty’s trusted guards.”

“How about yourself, sir Skye? Will I see you more often as well?” you asked, grabbing his arm. It already falls into place with how frequently you’ve done it—you can’t imagine holding another’s arm now.

“We will see, Your Highness.” A vague answer fell out of your ears.

An ache stung in your chest at the thought of not seeing him anymore—ha, you’ve grown attached to the ambassador. 

Would you miss him when your act is done? No one to link your arm with anymore, talk about random things whilst having tea, listening to his unique humming—you’re definitely going to miss him. 

Quickly shaking your head, what were you thinking? Sure, you were jealous of the princess before, for her state of living with no debts at all—but her duty determined the kingdom’s future.

And you were no princess. You won’t see Skye anymore.

You weren’t ready to go back to your demise. Even with the promise Zayne would pay half of your parents’ debt, you were sure the madam would still add the so-called ‘interest’—and you couldn’t possibly leech off him either.

“Your Highness is holding on like you won’t let go.” He mused, feeling the grip of your arm tighter each second. Not something he couldn’t handle, but more of what he can’t read your mind.

You only gave him a crooked smile. Maybe you didn’t want to let him go after all.

You fell for Skye, the fellow ambassador. Worst, if your hunch was right—he’s the neighboring king, who was about to marry another.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“Zayne is missing?”

You couldn’t believe your ears when Caleb entered the princess’s room to inform you. Your knees buckled, falling back on the bed. 

You were alone in this palace now.

“I told him not to go alone and yet…” Caleb sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You—I don’t trust you, but I have no choice. Give me time until I find them both.”

“That’s what Zayne said last time…” you muttered. To buy him time until they found the princess, yet he went missing. “It’s been far too long I’ve been here. They’re bound to find out I’m not the princess.”

You doubt he will save you from prison, but there was no one else you could confide in. His position would be alarmed if anyone knew he sided with the fake princess. He is the captain of the knights. Will you even be unscathed if he’s gone too?

“Just until midnight, I will be back with them.”

You hope he holds to his words.

“And tell me why you’re staring so hard at my head?”

“Oh, no—Nothing! Nothing at all… Say, do you have like a bump on it somewhere?” Curiosity got the better of you when you were reminded of Zayne’s unfortunate tale.

Caleb raised a brow. “We’re in an emergency, and that’s what you’re asking?”

“Right, sorry—” You laughed it off. He looked at you suspiciously but decided to humor you when walking himself out.

“Dunno where you heard that from… but I did slip into a pond and hit the back of my head. The bump is kinda still there.”

Your brain worked its cogs. Zayne was sort of telling the truth… You’re never telling him you assumed he threw a stone at Caleb. Did Zayne wish he did, though? 

You’re going to assume he did as a jealous rival.

Your head was frazzled if you weren’t thinking of the unfortunate tale to humor you. You were clouded with worry for Zayne, Emcee, and even the prickly knight who hates you.

Now, you were preparing for lunch with several important people—the Queen, the neighboring kingdom’s ambassador, and the prime minister. This was your royal duty to cover for the princess.

“Why the frown, Your Highness?” The familiar voice made you stop, seeing that Skye had joined you. Oh, how you wished you could tell him.

“Oh, um—I read a rather sad book, is all…” Well, that ‘book’ was your life. You’re replaying what Caleb had said earlier over and over in your mind—not about his head, of course.

“Whatever I can do to cheer you up, Your Highness?” Skye raised a brow, offering an arm to escort you to the dining hall. It became a habit whenever you walked with him through the gardens, just silently looking at the scenery.

“Maybe humor me with a small promise?” you said without thinking. You’ve grown too comfortable with him in less than a month.

“Gladly if it’s anything within my power.” Skye only chuckled—whatever makes you happy, he’ll do it.

“Since we have become acquainted… close enough to be friends—I hope you think so as well… Promise me you will not turn your back on your friend? Even if something happens that you don’t expect?” 

He wasn’t sure. Were you speaking as the princess or as you? Yet the anxiety swimming within your eyes could only make him smile slightly. He wished he could just take all of your burdens away.

“That is a hefty deal, but of course. We will be working much closer after the wedding. It is unspoken that you have my word and trust—as your future aide.”

He wished he didn’t have to add the last part, but alas, his cover is still going.

The walk to the dining hall ended when the butler opened the doors. 

“Ah, you’re here, darling.” The Queen smiled at your arrival, even more when she saw you hand in hand with Skye.

You don’t see it, but you feel it. The stink eye from the prime minister. Why is he staring so scornfully? 

The lunch was for political talks, mostly between the ambassador and the prime minister, and also with the Queen whenever her opinion was asked for.

“When will the king arrive to meet his bride?” The prime minister asked. The lunch was almost ending, and you were grateful you’d be out of this stuffy atmosphere within minutes.

“I do have something to confess,” Skye spoke from beside you. You looked at him, confused.

“I am no ambassador. I’ve come firsthand to see who my bride is. I apologize for deceiving all of you, but I believe neither of us would be comfortable marrying a stranger.”

If you weren’t in front of other people, your jaw would drop. Oh boy, you were right all along. And this man only sent you a smirk.

Well, at least it’s comforting to know it wasn’t only you who hid your identity, but you can’t have that grand revealing like this. You’ll be in prison instead of praises.

You hadn’t realized Sylus had gone out from his seat, taking your hand. Visibly stiffening, you stared at him as he brought your hand to his lips.

The bracelet slid down slightly. You had worn it for moral support from your crow—ignoring the fact it might be from the princess’s secret admirer. 

“It would be good to reveal this as well.” The prime minister chuckled, standing up. 

Guards were already by your side, but Sylus didn’t let go of your hand. The slight gaze he had made them back up—not without a hand pulling at your hair.

You winced. Your actual hair was being pulled in the process—what hurt more was being revealed of your true identity. You could hear the Queen gasp, but you couldn’t sense what his reaction was. 

“You dare to lay a hand on my bride?” 

Your eyes snapped towards him. Oh, he hadn’t faltered at all. If anything, his grip tightened around your hand.

At his gesture, Luke and Kieran came out, bringing stacks of documents to present to the Queen. Continuing the shock of her own daughter being fake, the truth of the prime minister's doings was revealed. You were more worried for the Queen’s health at this point.

You couldn’t believe your ears—fraud, money embezzlement, even the palace’s treasury. 

All you could feel was the thumb softly kneading your palm.

“Your Majesty, allow me to handle this as an international intervention if you would,” Sylus said, bringing you along as he neared the Queen.

The prime minister scoffed, already cuffed under Sylus’ guards.

“...As the Queen, I allow your intervention to aid in these matters.” The Queen took a deep breath, shaking her head in disappointment towards her most trusted person. 

She had wanted to stand up, to face you. Yet you only let her sit back, not trusting her legs would be strong enough after devastating news.

“And you, dearie.” The Queen reached for your hand. “I am… disappointed to find my daughter is missing this late. More of the fact that I had not recognized the change between you and my own daughter.”

“You look like her so… so much.” The Queen whispered. 

You only gave a wistful, apologetic smile. 

“But thank you—for withholding the duty that a princess should be doing. You must’ve tried so hard to convince His Majesty and retain the relationship between kingdoms.” The Queen had a weary expression, yet you could see she was proud of you—at a stranger who got roped into the royal mess.

“You’ve done great duty for the kingdom.”

“...You should thank your most loyal subject, Zayne. For seeking me out to help, Your Majesty.” You curtsied, a gratitude for her to not put a punishment over your improper behavior—faking as the princess, her own daughter,

The Queen only nodded, patting your hand twice before turning to the king situated behind you.

“Your Majesty. Please, find my daughter.” The Queen addressed Sylus, who still held his ground behind you—ready to defend you if anything went awry.

“That’s already been handled, Your Majesty.”

The crowd of knights came in, Caleb leading in with Emcee running towards the Queen. You saw Zayne following behind them. His eyes found yours, nodding with a small smile to express gratitude.

In the midst of the reunion, Sylus whisked you to the corner.

“...So, you knew everything?” you asked, staring at the hand holding yours. He hadn’t let go yet. You were starting to feel special for once.

“It was not hard to discern noble etiquette naturally and not.” Sylus chuckled. His other hand had tidy your messy hair from the wig pull. “However, not everything. It took time to find the princess’s whereabouts.”

“Hey! I practiced hard for my etiquette…” You pouted, looking at the crowd of reunion. You should find and thank Zayne for his guidance after this. 

You’ll miss breakfast in bed and free desserts. Then again, you were borrowing those chances—the rightful owner came back.

“I guess this is a goodbye, Your Majesty.”

“A goodbye?” Sylus raised a brow.

“You’ll be marrying Her Highness. I’ll be back to my normal life after this.” You smiled. It hurt, trying to let go of what you had been comfortable with for a month—it hurt to let him go.

“And who says that?”

His hand was on your cheek, wiping the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. You closed your eyes—you shouldn’t be used to his touch. 

“Well… I am in no possible social standing to ever meet you again, Your Majesty. I have debts to pay, a dream to reach. Royalty has never been made for me.” You laughed slightly, reminded of your debts. 

The debt would be paid in half if Zayne did as promised, but you don’t even know how much the debt is with that so-called ‘interest’.

“You’re assuming… I will marry someone who already has her eyes for another?” Sylus raised a brow. The thought had tickled him. That would mean all his Skye disguise was for nought. 

“You are marrying for kingdom union—to help Linkon prosper from its bankruptcy,” you remembered Zayne’s words the first night you were in the palace.

“And as a royal, it doesn’t matter who you marry, as long as you’ve done your duty—doesn’t that apply to you too?” You furrowed your brows. 

It earned a hearty laugh from the king. Your face heated up so much that you looked around to see if anyone had heard. 

“What are you laughing at?!”

“You must have forgotten I am a king, from a wealthy kingdom which is not on the verge of bankruptcy.” He smirked. 

“You’re evil… you’re making my kingdom bankrupt.” You were lowkey offended. This was also your homeland he’s talking about!

But oh, that smirk you’re going to miss. Tears welled up again. You couldn’t help but cry at the thought of not seeing this man again.

“Goodness.” Sylus only chuckled. “I am not sure what you’re crying over now, dove.”

You, I’m crying over you.

“I’m sure the princess had found something interesting the moment she was captured… It’s enough to help the kingdom.” Sylus informed, taking a step closer.

“Now, let me propose a deal to you as your friend.” He muttered. 

Right, he promised to be your friend no matter what. You hum, wiping away your tears. 

“I will sponsor you to several opera performances, here and overseas. You will pay your debt with the money you earn.” Sylus started, taking your hand with the bracelet.

That would be a dream come true. 

“You will be a successful songstress. I believe in you.”

Oh, you forgot about that songstress matter. You furrowed your brows. Wait— 

“You knew all along?”

“I requested Mephisto to send this to the songstress. He’s never wrong.”

“I thought the princess had a secret admirer, sending things through a crow.” You let out a wet laugh. “Why are you so kind to me, Your Majesty? I… I betrayed your trust, I deceived you.”

“We’ve conversed enough to be friends. Isn’t this what friends would do?”

You wouldn’t know. Your only friend was the old lady who would kindly remind you to eat and sleep back in the boutique. Those were the kind things you knew.

“And had you forgotten I was Ambassador Skye to you?” He chuckled, which made you squint. Right, he pretended too.

“We both deceived each other, dove.”

You only chuckled, shaking your head. Letting go of the problem, you weren’t exactly ticked off either to know his true identity—though a little bit of fear was still evident until he saved you from imprisonment.

 “Then, as a friend… can I ask you for another favor?”

“Name your deal.” Sylus smiled.

You requested help for the old lady and run an investigation on the boutique—or rather, gather evidence of overwork and underpaid labor. What you hadn’t realized the reunion crowd soon navigated to where the both of you were.

“That’s already been done, Lady Y/N.”

The familiar voice of your previous tutor approaches. Zayne nodded as Emcee huffed. “Goodness! I don’t understand how you could live through that—that greedy mouse!”

Mmh, she must be referring to the madam.

“The royal knights will oversee the investigation into the boutique. Your debt has been repaid after performing to be the kingdom’s savior.” Caleb read out the declaration conducted by the princess herself. “You have been given a title from Her Majesty, Baroness L/N.”

‘No debts to pay’ lingered in your mind.

“There will be a day for your title bestowment, Y/N.” Emcee grinned. 

“It seems you have more friends than you thought, dove.” Sylus hummed from behind you. He had a hand around your waist, grounding you from the fleeting surprise. 

“That means the money you earn will be yours alone, your very first true paycheck.” The thought made your eyes glimmer. Not being paid for debt, but for yourself.

Emcee cleared her throat, taking both of your and Sylus’ attention.

“And I would like to invite you to my wedding! As promised, please sing at my wedding.”

Your eyes widened, seeing Emcee grab Caleb’s hand. You never knew Caleb could grin that bright. He was like a different man, not that ‘you don’t belong here, pauper bla bla bla’.

You were more worried about your previous tutor. You glanced at Zayne, who had a small smile, happy for his friends, yet the sadness was still in his eyes. Pursing your lips, you decided to get some almond cookies for him.

His eyes met yours, which had softened slightly. 

Thank you. You had read his lips correctly this time.

“So… where will you go after this?” Emcee asked. Her eyes flitted between you and Sylus—eyes fishing for gossip.

Well, Sylus had laid out your plan. You will be singing in the opera, definitely not back to your mundane life. As for next…

“Taking it one at a time.” Sylus hums. “She will be performing in Mo Grand Theater in four months. You will be sent tickets.”

Mo Grand Theater, the theater you’ve been trying to sneak into. Your jaw dropped slightly.

“As for the next step…” 

You glanced at Sylus, who was still not done yet. You were already happy with what he offered. What more could there be—

“A wedding invitation soon, hopefully.”

Huh? 

While Emcee was cheering in delight, you looked at Sylus, sending a ‘that was not in the script’ look. Sylus only shrugged while guiding you out of the palace.

A carriage was ready to bring you to your future.

“Think of it, my dove. I have already thought of you as my bride before—and you still will be. All I need is your decision after your career.” Sylus muttered, easily pulling out a box from his pocket. 

He slid a ring on your middle finger, a simple band with a ruby.

“A proper proposal will be made when you agree. This is simply proof of our partnership, I, as your patron.”

“You will be there, right?” you asked, staring at the ring. 

You already knew your answer to his proposal. You panicked just a day ago, but you were filled with happiness right now. You wouldn’t let the chance slip when he offered to help you reach your dream. 

You had to be selfish for a bit. Your lifelong dream was within grasp.

A kiss on your hand reminded you of your first meeting with him.

“At every step of the way, my dove.”

Epilogue. From the Mo Grand Theater, Linkon Palace of Emcee’s wedding, and Philos Palace—you had shared your voice. Your name was on every paper, not because of your patron—Sylus sponsored you anonymously from the world after you were recognized. You wanted to build your name. You went through the same auditioning and selection process as everyone. You caught the attention of Thomas, who brought you to Rafayel, an arts appreciator and the founder of Mo Grand Theater. Your talent was finally recognized. Your portrait was hung in the halls of Mo Grand Theater, alongside famous songstresses and songsters, within a year. You invited the old lady, Zayne, Emcee, and even Caleb to your first show. Sylus was also there, front row seat. Three bouquets and a flower decorated your room that night. The proposal was quiet. Sylus had asked you once more on one knee, in the field of flowers. You accepted, ready to live with someone who would love you, for you. You hadn’t expected he would spin you around after that with that chuckle of his. It was a happily ever after, from your courage in being a fake-princess— Uh, you were always free to begin again. Maybe next time wouldn’t be so illegal. 

i had so much fun writing this, if you can’t tell hahaha.

ᯓ★ ©2026 leenkeyluc — only on tumblr! thanks for reading!

[nyxonlive]

STOOD UP! — LADS MEN ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ — staring across you was an empty seat, no boyfriend, no text, none at all. as you glance at your clock you realize it's been an hour and you've been stood up. ⋆˚꩜｡ cast — xavier, rafayel, zayne 🔖 tags — lads x non mc reader! hurt, no comfort, mentions of injuries, wounds and blood

݁ ˖Ი𐑼˖⋆ XAVIER

You haven't stopped tapping your foot on the ground as you stare at the clock bolted on the wall of the restaurant. Two hours have passed and your boyfriend was nowhere in sight. "Miss I'm so sorry but if you're not able to give us an order you would need to give up the table." The waiter looked at you with pity on her face, she had checked on you three times now, and there's a line forming at the front of the restaurant, you don't really blame them—they could've gained profit instead of letting you stay for too long alone. Still you tried to save face. "I swear he's going to be here any minute—" "I'm so sorry Miss, but this goes past our guidelines." Sighing you nod, gathering your things and muttering a quick apology to the waiter. You walked with your head held high as the customers sitting next to you gave you pity looks. You checked your phone again, expecting an apology, a text to explain why he was late and what you get was "Star, I'm staying up late tonight to help MC with her training. Don't wait up." You chuckled bitterly. This was the third date he forgot, or he was too tired to go on—sighing you searched for your car, and driving in complete silence. As you push the door of your shared apartment; you left your heels haphazardly near the door and took off the jewelry you spent hours making sure it matches with your outfit. You didn't bother eating and just immediately went to bed after tidying up, and then you heard the door open with two person laughing. You clutched the blanket tightly as you close your eyes as you mutter. "At least they had fun."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 RAFAYEL

You were pissed to say the least. You stood there in the pouring rain, the small tree barely covering you even though you were already soaked, waiting for your boyfriend. You and him already planned to go on a picnic date, you dressed up nice in all his favorite colors and jewelry that matches his eyes, laid out the food, and made sure everything was perfect to his artistic eye. You waited. Then an hour past by. 2 hours. 3 hours. You kept spamming Rafayel with messages, first excited, then it turns to worry and now you were just not having it. As you pressed the send— a small water drop splashed on your phone, as you looked up it dawned on you that it was about to rain. Muttering curses you immediately scrambled to pick up the things you brought but that proved to no use as the rain continued pouring harder by the second until you and everything you brought with you was soaked. You tried to open your phone to no use, the water probably got inside. Sighing you left what was unsalvageable and walked, until a familiar car stopped and the driver immediately got out. "Cutie I'm so so sorry, MC messaged me this morning asking for help—and I thought we would be fast but a problem happened and—" "Save it." "Y/N I really am sorry! please!" Rafayel begged as he took off his coat to put it around you

"Call me a cab, I don't want to face you right now Raf. Let's talk at home." "Y/N please don't do this I'll make it up to you." Sighing as you look up at him and you don't even know if it was water or your tears that was running down your face. "I'll believe it when I see it."

⎚-⎚ ZAYNE

You were sitting in the ER of Akso Hospital. You shouldn't have been here, you were supposed to go a nice place you and Zayne picked out but now you're clutching your bleeding elbow. You look at your cream dress, the upper left part covered in blood and you were feeling a little dazed already—probably from the blood loss. "Doctor Zayne! why are you still here? I thought you and Y/N are going on a date today?" Greyson's voice rings out of your ear as you see two individuals in your peripheral vision. You see Zayne with his brows furrowed, his white coat a mess and it looks like he couldn't even give a shit about what Greyson said. "I'll deal with it later, MC's condition worsened—I can't leave her like this." You felt a pang of hurt go through your spine. He should've left early and went to the restaurant, looking at the clock you assumed that he would've just left you waiting like a fool. Sighing, you joked that the revelation hurt more than your arm which is still bleeding by the way— "Y/N?" Greyson asked his voice sounding more pitiful than surprised, well who wouldn't? your boyfriend of two years is literally treating another woman while you're stuck on a chair probably losing more blood than you ever donated in your whole life. Blinking repeatedly, you started seeing double before whispering a quick 'hey' to Greyson. "What do you mean hey? you're not looking good, I should grab Zayne—" with all your might you clutched his coat, muttering sorry for making his coat look like a ketchup packet exploded on one side. "Don't. I-I'm fine." You said as you began seeing black spots in your vision, you were obviously not fine at all. "Fine? you're literally about to pass out—Hey! Somebody grab Doctor Zayne!" Was the last thing you've heard until the world suddenly turned dim.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ A/N!...caleb, sylus, n valko coming soon,,im out of the trenches n i'm testing the waters....

reblogs n likes r appreciated!

[peachletinphase]

Before It Becomes Love - Part 6

You asked for him like it could turn into something softer if you named it clearly enough and held onto it hard enough.Sylus lets you, quietly watching as you mistook his attention for permission to rewrite what he had never defined in the first place.

Pairing: Sylus x Reader (implied Non MC)

Genre: Boss x Assistant, Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Psychological Manipulation, Obsessive Dynamics, Power Imbalance Romance & Emotional Tension, Suggestive Themes & Ending not yet decided

Word count: Around 2.3k

Note: Sooo i'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter but oh well trust the process. and the next updates will be slow, please bear with me 🥺

Find the previous parts here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Find my other works here: Masterlist

Kindly let me know your thoughts, feedback, ignore the grammar mistakes and reblogs would be deeply appreciated.

You laid on your back, eyes stuck on the ceiling, watching the cracks in the peeling paint.

Even when Gideon pulled the blankets away from your still form, your body refused to cooperate. Your mind was somewhere else entirely.

Footsteps returned.

Gideon stood beside your bed and sighed.

“For the love of whatever is precious out there… wake the fuck up, Y/N.”

You turned away, shooing him with a lazy wave.

Silence.

Then—

You were lifted.

“—Hey!”

Thrown over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Ugh—you’re gonna make us fall, you dumbfuck!” you yelled, wiggling frantically in his grasp as you clawed at his back

“Let me goooo—put me down, Gid!”

He only tightened his grip, completely unfazed. “Hell no. You’re taking a shower right now. You still have dried blood stuck to your collarbone. And you stink.”

“Huh? Excuse you! I do not stink—”

Gideon kicked the bathroom door open, stepped inside, and dropped you unceremoniously onto your feet.

Before you could even process it, he slipped back out and slammed the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing loudly.

“Yes, you do, you stinky poo," his voice muffled through the wood. "Now take a shower. I won’t unlock this door until I hear water running.”

You scowled at the locked door, muttering a string of curses under your breath.

“I heard that.” Gideon called out. "Now get on with it, we have a brunch waiting for us… And mind those bandages!”

You looked around with a sigh escaping your lips. Left with no choice, you started to take a shower and got dressed with the clothes that Gideon left for you outside.

Once you were done, you paused in front of the bathroom mirror.

The bandage wrapped around your neck looked stark against your skin. Carefully, you lifted your fingers and touched the edge of it. A dull ache followed immediately. Your thought travelled back toward the phone that was face down on the bed.

Still carrying his voicemail.

Whatever he had wanted to say...it didn't change what happened.

You glanced at your reflection one more time before you walked out of the bathroom.

Later That Day — Café

Later that morning, you found yourself sitting outside under the veranda of a cozy, French-style café. A permanent scowl was etched onto your face. Across from you, Gideon was practically glowing, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“Come on, bug,” he said. “Stop being such a spoil sport. It’s a lovely day—the sun’s shining, breeze is perfect, and we’re chilling under a veranda of a beautiful cafe. What more could you ask?”

You stared at him, slow blinking. Ignoring his poetic nonsense.

“Where is she?”

Gideon checked his watch.

Then looked at you.

“In a minute.”

That smirk again. Deliberate.

You nodded and let your gaze drift toward the sidewalk. Couples. Conversations. Warm daylight.

Then—

A woman in a Hunter Association uniform entered your view.

Your gaze paused.

Focused.

She was walking toward your table. And she waved. Not at you. At Gideon.

Your stomach dipped slightly.

Oh.

So that was the “date.”

She approached, slightly breathless and offered an apologetic smile.

“Sorry I’m late. Had to stay at the association till the last minute. Didn’t even get to change.”

“Aww, don’t worry,” Gideon said softly. “You’re still beautiful.”

She weakly punched his shoulder, laughing as she sat down. Gideon leaned in to peck her cheek, and she returned the gesture before her eyes finally landed on you.

“So that’s your friend?”

Gideon leaned back.

“The one and only. Jenna, meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Jenna, Captain of the Hunters’ Association.”

“Lovely to meet you, Y/N. It’s great to finally put a face to the name.”

She extended her hand. You stared at her outstretched hand in a complete daze.

It was only when Gideon cleared his throat meaningfully that you realized you were making things awkward. You quickly shook her hand.

“…Nice to meet you too, Captain.”

“Oh please,” she smiled. “Off duty, Jenna is fine.”

Food arrived. Drinks followed.

Jenna kept conversation flowing easily. Gideon included you often, talking animatedly.

For a while—

It almost felt normal.

Almost.

Once the plates were cleared, Jenna suggested taking a walk in the nearby park, and given how pleasant she was, you agreed to tag along.

The atmosphere softened as you all sat on a bench.

Then—

Something changed.

Gideon’s carefree demeanor completely vanished, replaced by a stark, serious expression. He turned to you, extending his palm.

“Y/N… can I borrow your phone?”

You frowned.

“Why?”

“Just give it.”

A beat.

You hesitated.

Gideon didn't lower his hand, silently urging you to hand it over. Jenna looked between the two of you, clearly baffled by the sudden tension. Awkwardly, you slid the device into his hand.

“…Is something wrong?”

Gideon didn’t answer immediately.

He unlocked your phone.

“Jenna," Gideon began, his voice dropping to a serious register.

"I know that right now isn't the time to have this type of conversation, but I thought it was vital to bring something forward. And it involves my friend.”

Jenna nodded slowly, her confusion deepening. Gideon reached out, gently holding her hand.

“I know I shouldn’t mix my personal life with work, and usually, I keep a clean balance. But what happened yesterday shook me to the absolute core.”

He turned the screen toward her.

A message from Sylus.

She read it.

Once.

Then again.

Her grip tightened slightly.

“…What is this supposed to mean?”

“Did you notice the bandage on Y/N’s neck?” Gideon asked bluntly.

“Yeah, I did notice it," Jenna admitted softly. "But I didn’t want to pry—”

“Look, I’m going to be very straightforward right now," Gideon interrupted. "She’s hurt because of one of your hunters.”

Jenna stiffened.

“Which hunter?”

You sat frozen, your heart hammering against your ribs as you realized Gideon was about to blow the entire situation wide open.

You frantically tried to catch his eye, silently begging him to drop it, but Jenna was already leaning into his space.

“Gid—no, stop—” you intervened frantically, your voice shaking.

“MC,” Gideon said clearly.

Jenna frowned.

“No.”

She shook her head immediately.

“No, there has to be some misunderstanding.”

Her grip tightened around Gideon's hand.

“MC isn't like that.”

Gideon remained silent. Jena looked between both of you.

“She’s impulsive sometimes, yes. Stubborn too. But she wouldn't—”

Her eyes drifted toward the bandage around your neck. The words died in her throat.

For the first time since the conversation started, uncertainty crossed her face.

“Look Jen, I’m aware that what happened off work shouldn’t impact someone’s career. But...”

Gideon exhaled loudly.

“I know the Hunters’ Association runs on a strict code of conduct and ethics, and everyone there swears by it. But what MC did was completely out of line. And there’s one thing I need to clear up right now—our past does not define us. You know about my past, Jen. You know the circumstances we grew up in. I’ve never hidden the truth from you.”

Jenna nodded quietly, her expression softening with sympathy.

“The owner of that orphanage—that well-known entrepreneur—was a monster," Gideon said, his jaw tight. "He put on a perfect mask for the media, pretending he was doing a great thing for orphans, while secretly forcing us to sell our bodies for his profit. We were just kids.”

“What does MC have to do with this?” Jenna asked, her voice turning sharp.

“She looked down on y/n. Called her a slut. Said she was willingly spreading herself for powerful men and leeching off her boss.”

Jenna shook her head immediately.

“That’s not like her.”

“Look Jen—For my sake, please call her and confirm it…I can tell you don’t believe me.”

He looked down at Jenna, his expression heavy.

“I don’t want this to damage anything between us,” he added, softer now. “But I need you to understand why I’m not letting it go.”

He stood.

“Think about it properly.”

Then looked at you. He gripped your hand tightly, pulling you away from the bench.

You walked silently behind him, your fingers clinging to his as you left Jenna sitting alone in a complete daze.

“Why did you do that?” you whispered once you were out of earshot.

Gideon stopped, squeezing your hand softly. “It’s the only way to make MC pay for her mistake. She created this situation and Sylus hurt you. She needs to face the consequences.”

“But Gid—”

“The twins must be waiting," he cut in gently. "Let’s go meet them.”

Gideon’s Place

By the time you arrived back at Gideon's place, Luke and Kieran were already pacing outside. The moment they spotted you, they practically sprinted forward, throwing their arms around you in a fierce, suffocating hug.

Gideon stayed back, quietly grabbing your suitcase and carrying it inside to give you space.

“Boss lady!”

You hugged them back tightly, a sudden wave of nostalgia hitting you despite only being gone for a single day.

“You guys didn’t get into trouble with him, did you?” you asked anxiously.

They shook their heads.

“He questioned us,” Luke said. “But we didn’t tell him anything.”

“He didn’t push,” Kieran added.

A pause.

Luke hesitated.

“…He didn’t look good.”

“Bad how?”

“Dark circles,” Kieran said. “Angry. Restless. Something broke in his office while we were leaving.”

You exhaled quietly.

“When are you planning to come back?” Kieran asked tentatively. “If… you ever do?”

You let out a long, ragged sigh. “I don’t know… I need some time to think.”

The twins nodded understandingly. “We can’t stay too long. Don’t want to piss off the Bossman any more than we already have.”

They turned to leave, but stopped in their tracks. “Oh… is your neck okay?”

You hesitated, instinctively touching the edge of the fabric. “Yeah… Gid had to put in a few stitches. It’s going to be okay. I guess.”

“Please take care of yourself, mini-boss," Luke said softly. "Call us if you need anything.”

“Bye, boys. Take care.”

You watched them get into the car and drive away, leaving you alone with the quiet rustle of the wind and the distinct, aching absence of a pair of mechanical crow wings flying by your side.

Onychinus Base: Evening

Sylus sat in the dimly lit living room, his posture rigid on the sofa that faced the front entrance. On the coffee table before him lay a fresh bottle of bourbon, a glass of amber liquid, and the jagged, shattered remnants of his smartphone. He hadn't moved from that spot since the twins left.

Mephisto perched on the curtain rail before gliding down at his silent command, projecting the day’s collected footage.

Sylus’s crimson eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

Then—

His jaw ticked when he saw you and a man leaving the park, hand in hand. The footage shifted moments later as Mephisto changed direction.

Too quickly.

Too abruptly.

It never captured you pulling away.

Never captured your annoyed expression.

Never captured Gideon dragging you forward by the wrist while you complained behind him.

All Sylus saw was the image of your hand in another man's.

And for some reason, he couldn't look away.

The sharp click of the front doorknob turning broke the silence. Sylus instantly cut the projection, and Mephisto took flight, retreating back into the shadows.

Luke and Kieran walked in, murmuring to each other, but froze the second they saw Sylus sitting in the dark.

Sylus took a slow, deliberate sip of his bourbon, raising an eyebrow at them. “So. Managed to drop off her things?”

They both nodded quietly. Sylus hummed.

“Anything else you want to add?”

Luke hesitated.

“She said… her neck needed stitches.”

A pause.

The air shifted immediately.

Sylus’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched. “Oh. Is that so?”

Kieran finally mustered the courage to speak up. “Boss… she left us. We don’t even know if she wants to come back. But if an apology—an admittance that you were wrong to hurt her—could bring her back… wouldn’t you do it?”

Silence.

Longer this time.

Sylus leaned back slightly.

“The chef prepared dinner. Eat. Sleep. We have a mission tomorrow.”

Controlled.

Final.

Kieran let out a defeated sigh, nodding wordlessly as he turned away. “Goodnight, Boss,” he mumbled.

Luke stood his ground for a second longer, staring at the rigid line of Sylus's shoulders. “You heard me, Luke,” Sylus warned, his voice dangerously low.

“Boss… we miss her. Just please—forget it. Goodnight, Boss.”

As the twins' footsteps faded down the hall, Sylus stared blankly ahead. Finally, he stood up, scooped up the broken pieces of his phone, and retreated into his office.

Sitting behind his heavy desk, he deposited the shattered technology onto the wood. He opened his bottom drawer, pulling out the small, precise toolkit he normally reserved for maintaining Mephisto.

With mechanical precision and quiet intensity, his large fingers picked up the tools. And in the dead silence of the base, Sylus began trying to put the pieces back together.

But as the gears and circuits clicked back into place under his steady hands, his gaze remained fixed on the dead screen. He didn’t stop. He just wanted the power to return...to see if the silence on the other end was truly absolute, refusing to let the final word belong to anyone but him.

And we're done 😇 Lemme know what y'all think.

Taglist: @ixciv, @sylusismine4life, @inzanekillian, @bloomingbirdiez, @akarimochi0523, @arrozyfrijoles23, @picnicinthegarden @demonicangelll @violentriddlehoard @insidious-innocence @cordidy @l1ttlebabyapple @seraphineash, @professionalbystander, @druidofstars, @stxrrielle, @zzzaynesgirly, @chauchirem, @aiycnlyme, @louddetectivellama, @angeliccheeri, @aranarum, @young-adult-summer, @lowkaylove, @crimsonmarabou, @justpassingdontworry, @pookiei-bookie @mia-menaceinaction, @sillyfreakfanparty, @mariahuchiha90, @maryy-who

[aries-is-thinking]

The LADS boys nervous about proposing based on the responses from this post:

Xavier:

Zayne:

Rafayel:

Sylus:

Caleb:

[reenaki]

Its a Match! (Sylus x Non MC) Pt. 1

Tags: Sylus x NonMC!Reader, University AU, strangers to lovers with angst in the middle, look its a archetype plot but I dont care I like typical archetypes. MC may be involved later.

An: me a Snowfish + occasional star main writing nothing but Sylus and Caleb lmaooo, but this felt like a good idea fo Sylus. Itll be multiple parts, not sure how many yet though. This is also a bit more prologue-y? This fic is born 80% out of my vitriol for men's profiles on dating apps. I wonder if it's obvious.

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

You wont claim to be proud of being on a dating app.

Of course, everyone says "no judgement" on the outside, but the underlying embarrassment is always there among the attempts to casually wave it off. The feeling of subtly voicing your desperation. However three in college you couldnt help it. After all, you could only bear to be a secondary character to your friend group's romances for so long, chaotic and toxic as they sometimes may be. You only had one more year left before you graduate. In any case, you always thought you had a good, sensible head on your shoulders, atleast enough to filter out the obvious red flags your peers seemed to purposefully overlook despite your constant warnings. Did love make them blind or were they just like that? Part of you dreaded finding out, because the idea of acting like that, slicing parts of your dignity piece by piece for a man with an unwashed ass and 50/50 bills makes you gag. Even with your insecurities and hopeless romanticism, you really cannot imagine the thought of stooping to that level. You suppose you'll find out once you actually fall in love.

..is what you'd like to say. You never considered yourself someone with crazy high standards. Just someone who's passionate for their career or hobbies, well groomed, emotionally intelligent, a feminist, a bit of height wouldnt hurt either, neither would some good hair...

Your friends would only smile, clear their throats and look away as you'd rattle your bare minimums, before sympathetically placing a hand on your shoulder and gently telling you to either join a nunnery, or become a lesbian. You disagreed at first, holding out more hope and belief in your age group's male counterparts than you perhaps should, after all it's not like you had never met any good men. But after the 142nd left swipe on your app, you feel like you are actually going to lose your mind from the sheer lack of appeal and rock bottom attractiveness these men have. Serves you right for holding out hope from a dating app of all places you suppose. Every one is looking for "slightly autistic women" (fetishization ew), everyone's hobby is "travelling" (the most they've travelled in the past year is down the street. They would die without an Air Conditioner), and everyone has a "dark sense of humor" (translation: "I'm an absolute piece of shit but if you get offended you dont have a sense of humor!") half the men dont even have a decent photo of themselves and the ones that do are followed by 3 shirtless pictures from the gym and a "figuring out my dating goals", like you have time to waste on a useless situationship!

You really didnt expect to not find a single match after days of checking the app. The thought of lowering your standards did enter your mind for a brief second, but was quickly overridden by the common sense and self respect you had desperately and futily attempted to hammer into your friends once. Practice what you preach!

But today feels hopeless. Especially hopeless. And after a little while you realize you should close the app for your own mental health's sake, before you stalk and shoot the next cockroach whos "looking for his Nikki". You're just about to, when you see your swipe rights light up. Sighing you open it to see who swiped right on you, not hoping for much.

Youre immediately greeted by shockingly white hair, and if it werent accompanied by such a young face, you wouldve rechecked your age limit settings. Actually, scratch young, holy shit what is that jawline sculpted out of?! His red eyes make you consider if hes wearing contacts. If he is, they must be damn good quality to look so real. The man is dressed casually in a grey knit sweater layered on a white shirt. Comfortable but not completely covering what you can tell is quite a large body. It looks like the image is cropped from a larger, group photo, from the way his gaze is slightly unfocused and the slight grain of the photo. There are other people around but he is thankfully centered (unlike those group photos where you may as well be chatting to date the dog)

25, recent graduate, mechanical engineering major, and he doesnt live far. Just the fact that hes has interests listed is already propelling him to a premium profile in your eyes (and furthering your utter disappointment in humanity), and theyre not vague bullshit like "travelling" either. He claims to be into tinkering with gadgets and mechanical modification (to put in layman's terms), classical music and boxing, emphasized by a photo of him in a black tank top, working on a table, focused completely on the tiny bits of machinery in his- hoooooooly SHIT those are huge hands and arms. What the fuck does this guy eat?! It doesnt even look like hes flexing for the camera either, in fact he seems completely unaware of it, judging by his fucked up posture (and you thought you were a shrimp) with limbs awkwardly twisted around and head tilted near sideways, and mouth halfway open as if talking to someone.

In your scrutiny you realize you never even looked at his name, and quick scroll back up gives it to you: Sylus.

Now, you have a sensible head. This guy practically ticks off every single box for a conventionally attractive man, so there is the obvious question of why someone like him would be on a dating app unless theres red flags all over him. Frankly he even seems out of your league.

But well, it doesnt hurt to talk, maybe meet up, right..? Besides, he swiped right on you first, so clearly he doesnt agree with the whole leagues thing, and who are you to tell him what to think? You may not be the hottest shit on earth but its not like youre to be scoffed at, maybe you think too lowly of yourself!

Bolstered by a bit of confidence from being the one with the true choice in your hands, you go ahead and match with him. Hmph, he'll have to be the one to message first though!

....

"Oh, fuck. We got a match"

"Hahahah, dude, Sylus is going to kill us."

"Psh come on, it wont hurt to mess around just a little bit, right?"

[mwphisto]

Morning afters with Sylus must be so... hot.

Like not only are you waking up to Sylus with bed head, morning voice, and bleary eyes. But you're waking up to him fully naked, with the lingering memories of all the physical activities you two had just partook in some odd hours prior...

The evidence is not only present on your bodies - through bruises, bites, scratches, and the occasional carefully placed hickey. But your environment carries the memories too.

Clothes still lying on the floor, decorative pillows still tossed hazardously to the bottom of the bed. Sheets still in a disarray except for where they're dragged over your bare bodies.

You find yourself staring at him, your head still resting on his outstretched arm, eyes lingering on the rise and fall of his bare chest. You want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, much like you had a few hours ago. You want to devour him just as you had last night...

"Your thoughts are quite loud, kitten."

[peachletinphase]

Before It Becomes Love - Part 5

You asked for him like it could turn into something softer if you named it clearly enough and held onto it hard enough.Sylus lets you, quietly watching as you mistook his attention for permission to rewrite what he had never defined in the first place.

Pairing: Sylus x Reader (implied Non MC)

Genre: Boss x Assistant, Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Psychological Manipulation, Obsessive Dynamics, Power Imbalance Romance & Emotional Tension, Suggestive Themes & Ending not yet decided

Word count: Around 3k

Note: Next updates will be slow, please bear with me 🥺

Find the previous parts here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Find my other works here: Masterlist

Kindly let me know your thoughts, feedback, ignore the grammar mistakes and reblogs would be deeply appreciated.

Next Day

Sylus woke up to the fluttering of feathers brushing against his ear and a small weight settling on his chest. He slowly pushed himself upright against the headboard, one hand rising to massage his temple as the dim glow filtering through his room hit his half-open eyes.

“Ugh—”

He shut his eyes again immediately, fingers pressing harder into his temples. A faint whiff of alcohol hit him next, dull and sour.

His gaze drifted toward the nightstand. An empty bourbon bottle stood there. His glass beside it still held remnants of amber liquid, dried at the rim. He exhaled sharply. That explained the headache.

He barely remembered taking the bottle from his alcohol cabinet, bringing it beside the bed, and drinking until everything blurred after sending that voicemail to you.

After that… nothing was clear.

Just fragments.

Noise.

Then black.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

A small caw pulled him out of it. Only then did he register the weight on his chest properly. Mephisto was lying there in a loafed position, head tilted slightly, watching him with small, beady red eyes. Sylus raised a hand and gently patted the crown of its head.

“Hey Mephie…”

Mephisto fluffed its wings slightly and settled deeper into him, as if refusing to move. The pressure on Sylus’s chest eased his headache a little. He huffed under his breath.

“Now that your partner, y/n is gone...You remember your real owner.”

Mephisto answered with a soft caw. Since you had arrived at the base, the crow had grown unusually attached to you, always lingering nearby whenever it wasn’t needed elsewhere.

Which meant now, with you gone, it had simply returned to him. Sylus clicked his tongue softly and reached for his phone on the mattress.

He already expected nothing. And he was right.

No messages.

No calls.

He opened your chat anyway. The screen lit up too brightly, forcing him to squint. Then he saw it. Double blue ticks under his voice message.

You had listened.

And you had not replied.

Something in his jaw tightened before he could stop it. The silence shouldn’t have mattered. It did anyway. He glanced down at Mephisto again.

“Well…sorry to disappoint. She did not reply.”

He opened the camera, angled it toward the crow, and took a photo. Sent it immediately.

Dove Picture

Mephie woke me up today… t’was annoying. Ig he missed his partner & the usual routine. Sent.

A pause.

He added another message.

Did you get your neck looked at? Sent.

Sylus stared at the screen a little longer than necessary.

Then another notification appeared.

MC.

His expression darkened almost instantly. She was asking to come back. Saying everything yesterday had been a misunderstanding. A slow irritation built in his chest. For once, he didn’t respond.

He locked the phone and tossed it back onto the bed.

MC could wait.

Something else mattered more right now. He exhaled through his nose.

“Time to start the day Mephisto.”

The crow tilted its head.

“If she comes back…you’ll get to resume your usual routine. For now, shoo and go bother someone else.”

Mephisto stared at him for a second longer and then flew off.

Silence returned.

Sylus moved through his morning routine in quiet detachment.

Shower.

Steam.

Cold reflection.

When he stood in front of the mirror, he wiped a patch of fog away with his palm. His reflection looked off. Not disheveled in the usual sense. Just… heavier.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes.

Fatigue sat beneath his skin like something permanent.

His hand rose tracing the love bites you had left, they were already starting to dull in color.

Your bite mark had started to fade.

Barely there now.

“…Tch.”

He turned away. Dressed and left the room.

He headed downstairs.

The base felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Too still.

Usually, the twins would be waiting, half-loud, half-annoying or already preparing breakfast.

He frowned slightly.

“Luke…Kieran.”

No answer. He was about to make his way to the kitchen, when he heard noises from their room, he marched over and swung the door open.

He stepped inside.

And stopped.

The room was a mess.

Suitcases open.

Clothes scattered.

Items spilled everywhere.

And then he saw it.

Your belongings.

Stacked.

Packed.

Sorted.

Deliberately.

His gaze sharpened.

“What’s going on here?”

Luke muttered something under his breath.

“Louder.”

Sylus’s voice cracked through the room. Both twins stiffened.

“Y/N… texted us. She wants some of her things.”

Silence.

“For what?”

Luke hesitated.

“Said she’ll be staying away for some time…”

“Staying where?”

Kieran answered this time, quieter.

“Told us not to tell you. We wanna respect her choice.”

A sharp scoff left Sylus.

“Respect her choice?”

His tone dropped.

“Must I remind you both who you work for? It’s not her—“

“She’s our friend.”

The interruption landed harder than expected.

“And you’ve hurt her, bossman.”

Silence stretched.

Kieran’s voice softened slightly.

“We know who we work for. We respect you. We respect the hierarchy…”

A pause.

“But what you did…spilling her blood...was too much”

The room went still.

Sylus looked at them for a long moment. Then at your belongings again. Then turned. And walked out.

The door closed behind him—final, not violent.

He didn’t slow down. Didn’t think. He reached his office and shoved the door open harder than necessary. It slammed shut behind him.

Blazer off.

Phone in hand.

He opened your chat immediately. Unread. No response. His thumb pressed call.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

No answer.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

By the tenth attempt, something inside him snapped. He pulled the phone away. For a moment, he just stared at it. Then threw it. It shattered violently against the wall.

Fragments scattered across the floor.

Silence filled the room.

A broken screen fragment spun once before stopping completely. The call had never connected.

Sylus stood still.

His hand drifted to his neck. Fingers pressing the fading mark you left behind.

His right eye darkened—

A faint crimson glow flickering beneath the surface.

Meanwhile

You felt someone shaking you.

Hard.

“Yo y/n, wake the fuck up.”

You groaned and buried your face deeper into the pillow.

“Y/N, get up. Your phone’s been ringing nonstop. Pick it up or turn it off!”

Another shake. Then a kick to your side.

“The fuck’s wrong with you—“

“Get up, you little shit. It won’t stop ringing. I’m tryna sleep.”

Nursing your side. You sat up slowly, glaring at your roommate.

Gideon.

Your phone lit up

Twin 1 🤪 2 messages

Sy 🐦‍⬛ 3 messages 10 Missed calls

You stared.

Your phone also still held his voicemail.

You had already listened to it once.

That had been enough.

You didn’t open it again.

You ignored it.

The hurt still sat in your chest. You only replied to Luke to confirm the meeting time for your bags.

“Was it your boss?”

You hummed.

“And?”

Gideon was watching you now.

“Is that thing of yours still going on with him?”

You threw your phone aside.

“I guess.”

A pause.

“I don’t even know anymore.”

“Even after what happened yesterday?”

Your hand drifted to the bandage on your neck. You threw a pillow at him.

“Weren’t you supposed to sleep? Why so many questions?”

He caught it.

“Now answer.”

“Answer what?”

Gideon finally had enough. He hauled himself out of bed, marched over to yours, and dropped his entire weight right on top of you.

“Ugh—Get off me Gid.”

“No.”

You tried to push him off, but he remained absolute deadweight. You huffed and dropped your arms in defeat. Gideon chuckled victoriously, shifting to lean comfortably against your side.

“Do you still love him?”

Silence.

Your answer was in your pause. Gideon exhaled. You touched the bandage and sighed. He saw that and exhaled loudly.

“Your obsession with him will kill you one day.”

You turned around and faced him, waiting for him to continue.

“He showed you that you don’t mean anything to him. He hurt you because of his lover—”

“Not confirmed yet.”

Gideon stared at you.

“You’re so fucked up in the head y/n. A man almost kills you because you were about to swat his lady, and you still say ‘not confirmed’? You’re too far gone.”

“Maybe…”

He pushed your shoulder.

“Get some fucking help.”

Then, quieter,

“I’ve seen you make reckless choices before, y/n.”

“But never like this.”

He glanced at your neck.

“He didn’t see you as anything more than temporary.”

Your chest tightened.

“He allowed me to—”

“Hickeys.”

Silence.

“Didn’t he cover them up?”

Your silence answered everything.

Gideon sighed.

"I know he saved you—he saved all of us. But old habits don't die, y/n. You thought you left that life behind, but the second he spoke to her, he reduced you right back to a slut. And didn’t the fight happen because of those damn hickeys?"

That silence answered everything.

Gideon sighed again.

“This isn’t love you’re chasing.”

A pause.

“It’s destruction.”

Your voice broke slightly.

“So I’ll never be loved? Is that what you mean?”

Gideon softened, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before getting off the bed.

“You can be loved...just not by him.”

The room went quiet.

“He’s not meant for you.”

You stared at the ceiling. The weight in your chest deepened.

"From now on, treat him just like a boss. Do your job and don’t expect a single thing in return."

You heard Gideon dressing up and then he pulled the blankets off you, forcing you to face the day.

“Now fix yourself. I have a brunch with a lovely lady.”

A light tap on your stomach.

“She said you can come.”

Then he left.

Silence.

Your phone lay beside you.

Locked.

Still.

But even after everything Gideon said… Your eyes kept drifting back to it.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Somewhere far away, in an office, Sylus sat surrounded by silence. A broken phone on the floor.

A call that never connected.

And a name he couldn’t reach anymore.

And we're done 😇 Lemme know what y'all think.

Taglist: @ixciv, @sylusismine4life, @inzanekillian, @bloomingbirdiez, @akarimochi0523, @arrozyfrijoles23, @picnicinthegarden @demonicangelll @violentriddlehoard @insidious-innocence @cordidy @l1ttlebabyapple @seraphineash, @professionalbystander, @druidofstars, @stxrrielle, @zzzaynesgirly, @chauchirem, @aiycnlyme, @louddetectivellama, @angeliccheeri, @aranarum, @young-adult-summer, @lowkaylove, @crimsonmarabou, @justpassingdontworry, @pookiei-bookie @mia-menaceinaction

[deersfleur]

we can’t be friends — xavier x non mc!reader | blurb, angst.

"i would like to not see you anymore, xavier." you say. oh, so gently. oh too loudly. it's the peak of midnight and the two of you are sitting in his car. he's parked outside of your too shaby apartment and the two of you are talking. it feels just like the beginning, but it is nothing but the end. you had to stop this madness.

it's been three weeks after your breakup and it's odd. all the two of you did afterwards, was just this. xavier wouldn't say anything about the cigarette smoke and you'd ignore the fact that his phone wouldn't stop buzzing. it's funny how things are.

"i know you said we could be friends, but i can't do this." he's staring at your chipped nails as you speak. they're black. he should've known something was bitter. you hated dark colors in general. you hated anything that could throw you into a spiral. maybe you were starting to hate him too.

“why not?” xavier asks and he’s reminding himself to breathe.

“xavi" you say quietly and he can’t even look at you. he’ll crumble. fold into his own words. “you know why."

you're still in love with him.

"you're my best friend."

it's the first retaliation. you knew he wasn’t going to make this easy.

"jeremiah's your best friend. you need to be nicer to him." you say playfully, but you haven't looked at him. you can't. xavier owns your soul. truthfully. you had never loved anybody ever like you loved him. what a silly thing. you couldn't look him in the eye. that's exactly the thing that gives you away.

"are you leaving the flower shop?"

that's where the two of you met. you sometimes helped jeremiah. a sweet florist that kept xavier's silly days bright. you were bold, you danced and spun around the shop. he sometimes came over to simply watch you. you had so much... color.

you shake your head, "no. but, if you know i'm there - give me the heads up. i'll leave."

"i don't want to make you uncomfortab-" he tries and he's so sweet that it makes you furious.

"xavier." you say, "i'm still very much in love with you."

"please. you're my best friend." he begs and you wish he'd ask for you back. it'd make this all so much easier. that's why you have to rip the bandaid-

"i'm sorry. you have jer and mc-"

"don't."

"right. of course. it always is with her, right?" you say, so sadly and he feels his heart being stomped on. god. fuck- "i have to go, xavier. i'll see you around."

he doesn't have the strength to stop you. he watches you walk away and you wonder, for a long time -

what if?

[laurefindele]

⚜ caleb x non-mc, yizhou x non-mc

When Yizhou speaks your name, a cold dread settles at the base of your throat. His voice is gentle and unhurried. He owns you, and he never needed to raise his voice to remind you of it.

My precious lotus, you said you were mine.

The memories rise in the back of your mind.

You were sixteen, standing in a room that smells of bitter medicinal herbs. Mei was lying on a woven reed mat, terrifyingly still, her breathing so shallow it barely stirred the heavy blankets, her body broken by the fall they had blamed on you.

Then you were nineteen, standing before him in the stifling quarters of the magistrate's house. You surrendered everything in exchange for gold and for his royal physician. You would have carved the oath into your own flesh if it meant he would agree. You handed him your life, desperate and unthinking, hoping a single night would be enough to buy your sister's survival.

Now, the terror of that helpless girl wars with the deep exhaustion in your bones. The protests die on your tongue, trapped behind clenched teeth. He does not care that you were only a terrified youth making a desperate bargain.

There is no pleading with him, you can only endure it.

His hands cup your face. They are maddeningly warm, the skin soft and uncalloused despite his mastery of the sword, pampered by a lifetime of princely privilege long before he claimed the throne. His grip remains unyielding beneath the sweeping sleeves of his heavy robes.

Even now, at the end of everything, he handles you with meticulous, suffocating care. Despite having the wealth of the entire kingdom at his feet and the heavy crown upon his head, he holds you as though you are his most precious treasure.

But as the darkness edges into your vision, Yizhou fades from your mind.

Your final breath carries you far away from his opulent halls, pulling you back to a dusty, sunlit courtyard in your father's house in Linkon. You see Caleb under the flowering plum trees, laughing with his head thrown back, reaching out to pull Mei into a wild, breathless dance.

And lingering just at the edge of their shadows, close enough to feel the fleeting, golden heat of their joy…

you.

a/n: non-mc angst for Caleb's birthday (because, well, it's me 😌) and another historical AU again (hope you guys aren't tired of it 😭). i also couldn't choose which LI would make the best villain, so you know what? it's still caleb! if you guys are confused, yizhou is caleb's OG & chinese name. think of it as my take on JJK's nerdjo and fratjo aus, but caleb and yizhou are half brothers and not twins. 🥹

this is just a preview for now, the other fic i was writing felt like a half-baked cookie, so i won't be posting it.

also, thank you for all the comments on my last post. we're still experiencing aftershocks, and it's also been very rainy these past few days, but i think i'm feeling better than i did last monday. i'm definitely following everyone's advice and getting plenty of rest.

divider from @/diviniyae

[leenkeyluc]

tippy toes

in which you accidentally broke sylus’ vase, and you’re panicking.

cw: implied female non-mc reader, nicknamed dove, sprinkled with my favorite ingredient hurt/comfort, and self-indulgent | wc. 1.2K

ᯓ★ dividers by ©saradika-graphics and ©pixopix!

The sound of broken glass was loud inside the quiet mansion. Your eyes widened in shock. That vase must've cost a fortune, and it's filled with Emcee's flowers gifted for Sylus…

Oh, no. 

No, no, no. You’re going to be done for. The last time someone offended Miss Hunter, they got their karma. You can’t put your job on the line for this.

You shivered, panicking internally. What to do, what to do…

In the midst of your inner screaming, you failed to notice the series of caws going away, Mephisto had watched. Great, the sound of the crash must’ve echoed down the hall—you hoped Mephisto was sent to watch over Emcee, but he just had to be spying on you.

You crouched down, wincing when something stings on your feet. 

Ah, some of the shards prickled your feet. Tiny scratches emit blood from it—but you needed to save the flowers, you knew how much Emcee's gifts are worth to Sylus. It would probably cost your whole life.

"Stop.”

It took one single word and tone to make you flinch. The command boomed down the hallway, black mists reached too late when you had touched a shard, gripped hard when you got startled. You stiffened, avoiding looking at him. 

Heart hammering, cold sweat dampens your back. There was no way to hide this mess, huh?

Crunch of glass underneath their boots. You were only wearing slippers.

Luke and Kieran came in tow, navigating around you to clean up the mess while Sylus lifted you in his arms. He frowned at the blood on your feet, tiny glass shards still prickling in.

"Why are you hiding your face?" he asked, with a slight frown. Staring down at you while he made his way to his bedroom, were you that scared of him? 

"I haven't even bitten you,” he murmured, arms tightening around you.

"I'm sorry I broke your vase that has Emcee's flowers in it." You blurted out immediately, feeling sick in your stomach. "Please don't cast me out—or kill me, you can take my paycheck for the vase."

Sylus hasn't heard something so absurd in his life. He scoffs in disbelief. Whatever you were even talking about?

He set you down on the bathroom counter, then grabbed some medical supplies. The silence he's giving off now is scaring you much more. Your palms were clammy by now, gripping your own shirt.

He had gently taken your hand, the one that pricked the shard. He tsk-ed at the blood staining your shirt, he should’ve tended to your hand immediately.

"You could tell me why you didn't immediately ask for help and explain why you touched the shards yourself instead." He hummed, kneeling to peel off the shards from your feet with tweezers.

"I was trying to save the flowers... I know how much you value her gifts," you muttered, holding your hands together to hold off the pain. One shard had pricked too deeply, you cried in pain.

A soothing rub of comfort was on your knee, while his black mist assisted his other hand.

"To the point I would sacrifice you to go through broken glass?” He raised a brow, sighing. Before you could splutter a response, he sighed.

“No, dove,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I must change your mind if you think I would sacrifice you."

Not his worker, not his assistant, but you. Specifically, you.

He gestured for you to turn your feet toward the sink, gently washing the blood off before disinfecting them.

"But it's from her..."

"Do you think I choose her more than you?"

"I-Isn't that obvious? Her, of course."

His movements stop at your words. His eyes glanced at your teary ones, in pain from the alcohol he was dabbing on—or was it from fear? 

Wrapping it with some bandages, he made sure it was secure while he checked for any more injuries.

"You once had Luke and Kieran chase the man for the brooch that was meant for her." His head snapped up, inhaling deeply. Right, you were there when he went to grab it at an auction. He barked the orders as soon as the brooch was snatched from the auction listings.

"And the dress was the wrong size, you got mad." You timidly reasoned, fingers fiddling with each other. “I immediately sent it back for a new size—you should check it when you can, it arrived today.”

Sylus furrowed his brows. Did he come off as mad? Surely he only said it was the wrong size, but you handled the problem perfectly as always—he didn’t mean to reprimand you. It was to remind himself to double-check the size.

“Also, the necklace that wasn’t ready before her birthday…”

"It seems you're misunderstanding things, dove." He cuts you off, unable to hear anymore. He felt like a fool for not knowing how you felt all this time.

You frowned, holding onto him when he lifted you. Shifting uncomfortably, you remind yourself he was only being considerate of your injured feet—would he lift you on normal occasions?

You expected him to move you back to your room, which was just across his, only to place you on his bed. Eyes widened, you squirmed, panicking. "W-Wait, what are you doing—"

"Stay still." He grunts, fixing the pillows behind you for you to sit comfortably. "Tell me if you need anything, or ask Luke or Kieran."

"And we're going to talk. Right here, right now," he said, pulling a chair to sit by the bed.

You gulped, intimidated. Was he going to fire you after this? Will this be your end? 

Your waterworks were already streaming, which surprised him. Yet he only chuckled, wiping them away now. His hand lingered, cradling your face, just like he always does whenever he sees you asleep.

“Whatever you’re thinking is not true,” he murmured, grazing your cheek with his thumb. He felt like a fool for letting you think otherwise.

"Everything you just mentioned was all for you."

You choked on your own saliva. Sylus already had a glass of water in his hand and handed it to you. "Your paycheck wouldn't be able to afford the vase, it'll be three years' worth of your paycheck."

"I'm so sorry..." you meekly said, holding the glass of water like a wrongdoer. You hadn’t processed the words he said.

Everything was for you.

It took you a while to boot before gasping. “What do you mean it was for me?”

“I always had wanted to reward you with something for your hard work… an outfit with matching accessories, a dinner for you with me.” He had planned it. A surprise, he didn’t expect you would think it was for Miss Hunter.

The look on your face was amusing. He laughed at your disbelief expression. He decided to add the attack. "Yes, it's you whom I value more if you haven't got the hint."

Sylus laughed, glad to see your tears stop. "And your apology will be accepted if you agree to go with me to make a new vase and tell me your favorite flowers."

"Make? My favorites?"

"Yes, make. I will put your flowers in it."

"...I swear you're playing too hard, boss." You squint, looking at him. Fingers fiddled, you frowned.

“You… You’re not joking, right?”

“When have I joked about my intentions with you, dove?”

“Right…” you muttered. It wasn’t like he ever played around. 

The hand on your cheek was warm, his thumb kept rubbing comfortably—gosh, you would have your face in his hands at any time. 

“Dinner this weekend night?” he murmured, casually throwing in the invite. He raised a brow at the lack of answer, laughing when he realized you were in daze.

He thinks it’s a yes from your dopey smile.

in which i try to make less than 1k words for sylus but fail. the whole point of this is i just want someone to speak softly to me

ᯓ★ ©2026 leenkeyluc — only on tumblr! thanks for reading!

[xxfrozenpearlsxx]

Aching of the Soul - Upcoming ── ⊹ ࣪Content warnings: Alternate AU - Bakery Setting, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Mental health struggles, Trauma implied/discussed, PTSD (nightmares, insomnia), Occupational stress (Zayne is a former Combat Medic, current Prison Psychiatrist), Mentions of eating disorder recovery (protagonist), Mutual pining, Other additional tags will be added. ── ⊹ ࣪Word count: TBA ── ⊹ ࣪First Journal Entry - Alternate Entry - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

© zaynessbeloved 2026. please don’t copy, repost or translate my works. thank you!

.ᐟ✧ translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!

taglist: @princesspeachi3, @feral-espresso-boba , @syluslittlecrows, @asiaticapple, @youkoden, @w0ndert1nk, @deadlyskepticalnightmare, @2affectionate4z, @daisybbyxx, @kokoa21, @aiycnlyme, @maescorners, @embetie, @fiyoripim, @gardenialily, @not-oikawa, @jadeloverxd, @remnantsofgildedcages, @aelinv0gue, @darien-hamilton23, @clennel, @blackhearteyes999, @aliceinthemadness, @cathedralofaudra, @darebearinlads, @amerti, @seris-the-amious, @fallen-herondales, @calebs-apple

🔗 - comment to be added to the taglist

[sugarplumpearl]

Synopsis: Frat!Caleb deals with a random who can’t take his eyes off you

Frat!Caleb x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: +18 (mdni) frat!Caleb, slightly nicer Caleb compared to previous parts, Caleb's mind is always in the gutter, shy!reader, random character as peeping tom, doing dirty stuff under the privacy of a jacket, size kink, fingering, nicknames (honey, baby), you refer to Caleb as your boyfriend and he likes it, lemme know if I missed anything!

Series Masterlist

Caleb never imagined he’d be spending his Saturday night at school. Granted, he was there with you to support the French Club’s fundraiser, but it was still out of character. Even those who knew him did a double-take as they saw him trailing behind you as you led him through the campus grounds before settling into one of the chairs laid out before the giant screen projector.

For this month’s upcoming Saturdays, they’d be having a movie night, and the money they collected would be used for the trip they’d be taking to France in the summer.

At least you were nice enough to pick a seat all the way in the back where no one could watch as he teased you throughout the night.

“You don’t want any snacks?” He asked as the film started. 

“Later.” You responded without sparing him a glance. “I’ve only seen bits and pieces of this movie, so I’m excited to see the opening scene.”

The film for the night was the French version of Beauty and the Beast. Caleb wasn’t having an amazing time, but he wasn’t bored either as the film had his mind wandering to the idea of you in a corset like the one worn by the female lead. 

He was sure your tits would look to die for in one, especially in a soft pink color with frills and lace. He knew you wouldn’t be too happy with how tight it would be around the waist area, but he’d be sure to rip it off of you after he recorded a video of how’d the flesh would bounce to the rhythm set by his hips as he pistons in and out of your soft cunt. 

At the motion of you standing up from his lap, he looked up at you as you gestured towards the area where they were selling snacks.

“I saw a girl with those gummy clusters I like! Do you want anything?”

Caleb shook his head, immediately pulling out his wallet from his pocket before handing you a bill.

“I’ll just steal some of yours.” He smirked as your lips formed a pout. “Sharing is caring, honey.”

You thanked him as you took the money, grumbling a curt fine at the idea of sharing your sweets. 

He settled back into the seat. He tried to focus on the scene before him, but from the corner of his eyes, he couldn’t help but notice the guy who was trailing awfully close behind you. You were too far away for him to hear the words being exchanged, but it was clear you were uncomfortable as you shrank into yourself.

Caleb didn’t take his eyes off of you, only relaxing once you were back on his lap.

“You okay?” He questioned, a hand coming to rest against your tummy soothingly. “Did he tell you something?”

You shook your head as you ripped into the bag of candy. 

“Just being a weirdo, but I told him I had a boyfriend.”

Whenever Caleb heard you refer to him as such, for the first time in his life, it left him feeling satisfied. Had it been any of his past flings, that relationship was severed by the end of the night, but not you. The brute had grown accustomed to you and the thought of you leaving him left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“Boyfriend, huh?”

The hand bringing a colorful cluster to your mouth stopped a few inches from your lips. You turned to look at Caleb who was already watching you.

“Oh, do you not like when I call you that?” Your tone was dejected, and the sparkle in your eye dimmed. 

His nose bumped against your temple, the sound of him taking a deep breath present as he inhaled your sweet perfume. 

“Only hate that I can’t fuck you right now, baby.”

He chuckled at the adorable side eye you gave him, taking the piece of candy you offered. 

“Caleb!” You scolded. “You and that mouth of yours.”

“You love it. At least that’s what you said last night when-”

You grew flustered, a hand waving in the open space. 

“Stop it!”

His chest felt warm at the sight of your heated cheeks. 

He tried to focus on the movie once again, but he could feel the guy from earlier stealing glances at you. You of course were too caught up in the film to notice. Not Caleb though. He was hyperaware of everything when it came to you.

Shooting the male a nasty glare, Caleb shifted in his seat and adjusted your legs so that you were sitting sideways in his lap, head tucked under his jaw. He made sure to cover your legs with his jacket before slipping a hand under and past the hem of your pleated skirt. 

He felt you tense as his fingers curled over your thigh, his fingertips awfully close to your warm cunt. He could feel the heat radiating from your center. When he curled a stray digit, he felt the soaked center of your panties. A gasp came from your lips. 

The bag of candy crinkled loudly as your grip tightened around the plastic.

“Caleb, what’s gotten into you?” You whispered slash yelled, completely scandalized, while frantically looking around.

It’s not like it was the first time Caleb touched you out in the open, but it was the first time there were others around. 

“Caleb, not here-” You harshly whispered, your words dying on your tongue as two digits ran along the cut of you, gathering your juices just to slip past your puffy folds with ease. A whine fell from you at the intrusion. 

“Shh, don’t fight it. I know how much you love having my fingers inside of you. Take them so well even though you’re so little and tight.”

You wanted to fight it, but his fingers were stretching you out too well, your slick aiding his ministrations. Your hips wanted to start moving, but then what was occurring under his jacket would become clear. 

“Caleb! S’embarrassing…” Your words turned into a moan as his fingers curled towards the spongy spot that had your hips bucking. “G-gonna get me in trouble.”

Even though you were embarrassed, the unknown male’s eyes trained on every single twitch of your figure, you couldn’t ignore the wonderful feeling spreading from your cunt to your tummy.

You wished you had gone with your idea of bringing a small blanket, so that way you would’ve been able to hide your face in it. With no other option, you tucked your face against Caleb’s neck, your quiet cry going straight to his dick. 

Your walls clenched down, holding his digits and refusing to let go. 

“Fuck, you gonna cum already, honey?” Using the hand that wasn’t between your thighs, he cradled the side of your head, holding your face to his neck and hiding you away from the world. The entire time, he maintained eye contact with the peeping tom beside you. “Think this is the fastest I’ve made you cum. Do you like being watched? Do you like it when some punk ass loser watches you take my fingers?”

Applying pressure with his palm against your sensitive bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help as your hips began to rock slightly to match the rhythm he set with his fingers. 

“I’m gonna make a mess.” You continued to whine as you tried to hold back your impending climax by bearing down your pelvic muscles. “It’s dirty.”

Caleb chuckled, the hand cradling your head smoothing down your hair. 

“Go ahead. I’ll just clean you up.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your forehead knocking against Caleb’s jaw as you used his body to hide as you whispered for him to keep going. You were almost there, might as well give him what he wants at this point.

If the bulge in his pants was any indication of his growing need, he’d have you spilling onto his hand and immediately deciding to go home so that he could bury himself to the hilt in your pussy in private. At least that way he’d be able to hear your moans and cries at full volume. 

“Go on, baby. Let him see how pretty you look when you’re spilling all over my hand. This is the only chance he’s getting at seeing you come undone.”

“…kiss.” You were breathless, pawing at his shirt. “…w-wanna kiss.”

A grin broke across Caleb’s face. 

“Whatever you want, honey.” He angled your head towards him. “C’mere.”

It wasn’t until your lips met that your body went lax, allowing yourself to get caught up in the pleasure he was giving you. He swallowed every little sound you made. He may be allowing someone else to see you falling apart, but they’d never be able to hear the sounds you make. That was a privilege for him and him alone. 

“Let go.” He whispered against your lips. “Once you do, I’ll take you home and make you come apart over and over again on my cock. Until you’re shaking and crying and begging for me to stop.”

As the film reached its climax, you called out to Caleb, his name turning into a mewl as your orgasm caused your body to shake, fingers tugging at the fabric of your boyfriend’s t-shirt. He continues to scissor you open until your walls stop spasming and you are finally able to catch your breath. 

When your body cooled down, the embarrassment set in, and your hands grabbed onto the leather jacket, pulling it up to cover your face. 

“I can’t believe you-you just made me do that. With all these people here!”

The shame began to set in for you. Face burning and pulse pitter-pattering as you whispered to yourself, your horrified words fell on deaf ears, but at least Caleb held you close, his hand rubbing your arm.

All the while, Caleb looked the flustered male dead in the eye as he made a show of licking your juices off of his fingers. His tongue curled around each digit, lapping up every single drop. Saving his middle finger for last, he oh so coincidentally flipped the male off as he pulled it from his mouth with an exaggerated pop. He smiled as he spoke, far too pleased with the situation. 

“Sweet.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Caleb's ex non mc fiance? part 2

Imagine the transfer should have been temporary, that was what Caleb told you six months ago when the reassignment orders first arrived. "Just a different unit." He reassured you softly while standing in your kitchen. "I'll still come home." Home, not your apartment. Home. Because Caleb started calling your place home long before you even got engaged.

Imagine he kept that promised too. No matter how brutal the new schedule became, he still drove back to the city whenever he could. Sometimes arriving past midnight exhuasted out of his mind only to leave again before sunrise. You used to scold him for it constantly. "You need sleep." "I need you more." Ridiculous man. Ridiculously sincere man. That was the problem. Caleb loved you too honestly for this situation to make sense. Which is why the past week had been slowly driving him insane.

Imagine the operation had reached critical stage faster than expected. Months of investigation finally narrowed into something tangible. Dead fleet officers, missing intel, internal corruption, targeted executions disguisedas accidents. At first the unit suspected isolated incidents. Then patterns started emerging. Officers connected to specific classified transport routes kept dying one after another. Some vanished entirely, others were found dead before they could testify. The newest victim finally gave them a lead. A newly married fleet officer murdered in his own home, except his wife survived, barely. She escaped before the shooter fnished clearing the house.

Imagine now she was their only living witness. Which meant she was also a walking target. The problem? The leak was internal. Someone inside the fleet kept feeding information outward. Meaning, nowhere offical was safe. No military housing, no secure holding facilities, no predictable movement. So the witness got moved constantly between trusted personnel, including Caleb.

Imagine he hated it immediately. Not because of the responsibility, but because of you. Because suddenly, the operation stopped being dangerous only for him. Now there was possibility of collateral. And the moment collateral became possible, Caleb's entire perspective changed violently. You became the center of every tactical decision in his head. Could this route expose you? Could this operation lead people toward your apartment? Could someone follow him back home? Could someone use you against him? That last thought alone nearly made him sick.

so Imagine, he started pulling away slightly, not enough for you to notice fully. He tried so hard not to. God, he tried. Because Caleb physically didn't know how to function properly without you anymore. You were woven too deeply into his life, routine, and sanity. After brutal shifts, hearing your voice grunded him. Sleeping beside you kept him human somehow. You were the only place where Colonel Caleb stoppped existing. Where he could just be your fiance instead of someone constantly responsible for life and death.

but Imagine lately, the pressure became unbearable. Every move mattered, every mistake could get people killed. And Caleb was good under pressure, exeptionally good. But not when it involved you. Never you. So yes, he became distaracted. Quieter sometimes, checking his surroundings more often, sleeping lighter, watching doors automatically. You noticed, of course you noticed. You noticed everything about him too. And Caleb hated himself every single time he saw concern flicker across your face before you smiled anyway and kissed him like you trusted him completely. Because you did trust him. That trust became the knife slowly twisting inside his chest all week.

Imagine then tonight happened and everything finally exploded. The witness was sitting quietly in the kitchen when Caleb stepped into the shower. He planned to finished paperwork afterwards then drive back to the city to see you. He missed you so badly it physically ached. The past few days had been hell. He needed you. Needed your voice. Needed your hand in his hair while he pretended the world wasn't collapsing round him. Instead the bathroom door opened and Caleb walked straight into his worst fucking nightmare.

Imagine the way you stood frozen inside his apartment staring at the witness like your entire world had just been ripped out from under you. And fuck, the look on your face. Shock first, then confusion, then heartbreak. Real heartbreak and Caleb felt actual panic slam through him instantly. Not suspicion, not irritation. Panic. Because immediately, he understood exactly what this looked like. The witness was wearing his shirt. Fresh marks still on the witness neck from injuries sustained during the attack days ago. The apartment looked lived in, intimate, domestic. And Caleb himself just walked out looking comfortable as hell inside the environment. Fuck.

"Baby-" Then your expression changed. And Caleb's stomach dropped violently because he recognized it instantly. That look, the moment someone stops feeling safe. You ran. And everything inside him snapped. "Baby!" He sprinted after you immediately, not caring about protocol, not caring about surveillance risks. Because nothing mattered except stopping you before this misunderstanding destroyed everything.

Imagine the apartment hallway blurred around him. Then came a movement, tiny, brief. A red laser dot flickered against the far wall behind you. Gone immediately but Caleb say it. Years of training wired his brain too sharply not to. And suddenly all the blood drained from his body. No. No no no no. They found the apartment. The operation was comprimised. And worst of all, you were here. Exposed, visible, vulnerable. For one horrifying second, Caleb imagined the laser moving slightly upward. Straight to your head. And his chest nearly fucking stopped.

"Baby wait!" You kept running, crying. Completely unaware someone potentially had a scope trained on your body right now. Caleb caught your wrist at the parking lot. Then you hit him, hard. The impact split skin across his cheek instantly. His head snapped across his face. He barely regustered it. Because you looked shattered. And Caleb realized with horrifying clarity, you genuinely thought he betrayed you. "Listen to me." He said immediately, breathing hard. "That's not what it looked like." "Then what is it?" He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Because his brain was screaming too many things at once.

Imagine there was the witness, the leak, the fucking laser. Get her out of here. Protect her. Then your voice cracked. "What is it, Caleb?" God, you looked desperate. Not angry yet, just desperate. Like you were begging him to give you something, anything, that would make this make sense. And that almost destroyed him more than the slap because even now, you still wanted to believe him. You still trsuted him enough to ask explanation instead of immediately condeming him. That trsut fucking wrecked him. Because he loved you. Loved you so much it bordered on insanity sometimes.

and Imagine now he was standing here watching that love get twisted into pain because of a mission he couddn't explain. "Tell me." He looked at your face. Then beyond you. The laser flickered briefly again against your car window. Cold rage exploded through him instantly. They were sending a message. Talk. Talk and she dies first. Caleb understood that perfectly. And suddenly, something terrifying woke up inside him. Not fear but murderous rage. Because these people weren't just threatening him anymore. They were threatening you. Using you. Cornering him into hurting you himself.

"Tell me!" You begged now, tears falling harder. "Because right now it looked like you've been lying to my face for weeks hiding another woman in your apartment." Every word hit like a bullet. Because on your perspective? You were right. You had every right to think that. And Caleb hated himself for putting you in this position. "It's not like that." "Then explain it!" "I can't." The second those words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Imagine the way your face collapsed completely. Not dramatic, not explosive, worse. It was quiet devastation. Like your heart physically cracked open in front of him and fuck. Caleb would rather take a bullet. 'I can't' sounded guilty, cowardly, suspicious. He knew that. But what was he supposed to do? Tell you there were armed eyes watching right now? Tell you people died over less information than this? Tell you your life had potentially become collateral damage the second you walked into that apartment? He coudn't risk it. Not with you. Never with you.

Imagine then your voice dropped smaller. "You're hurting me." And there it was, the thing tat finally broke him. Because you weren't screaming. You weren't insulting him. You just sounded hurt, disappointed, heartbroken. Like you couldn't understand why the man who loved you most was suddenly becoming the source of your pain. Caleb's grip loosened slightly around your wrist. His breathing became uneven. Because he knew. God, he knew he was hurting you and worse, he was doing it knowingly. Chosing silence while watching tears run down your face because the alternative could get you killed.

"Please." You whispered desperately. "Just tell me the truth." He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to so badly. Wanted to grab your face and explain everything. Wanted to beg you not to leave him. Wanted to promise this wasn't betrayal. But then the laser appeared again brieflt against the concrete, then to your forehead. And Caleb saw red. Actual red. Something violent surged through him so fast his vision sharpened dangerously. Someone was aiming at you. At you. And suddenly every protective instinct inside him turned monstrous.

"I can't." He repeated hoarsely. You went still, then slowly... You pulled off your enngagement ring. The world stopped. No. No no no. Not that. Anything but that. Caleb genuinely panicked. Real panic. "No- baby, please-" "What am I supposed to do?!" You asked shakily. "Stand there pretending I didn't see another woman wearing your clothes?" He couldn't tell you anything, and that helplessness made rage build hotter inside him. Not at you. Never at you. At the situation, at the operation, at whoever forced him into this impossible corner, at the bastards watching from the shadows while the woman he loved cried in front of him because of their fucking mess. You shoved the ring into his chest. "Get out of my way."

Imagine he stared at the ring in his palm. Your ring. The one he spent months secretly carrying around before proposing because he wanted the perfect moment. The one you cried over while saying yes. Now it's sitting cold and unwated in his hand. Something inside Caleb cracked violently, but he stepped aside anyway. Because keeping you near him tonight suddenly felt more dangerous than losing you. And God, that realization nearly killed him. So he watched you get into the car. Watched your hands shake against the steering wheel. Watched you avoid looking at him directly because if you did, maybe you'd break harder.

Imagine Caleb stood there bleeding from the cheek, engagement ring clenched painfully tight in his fist, feeling completely fucking helpless. You looked at him once before driving away. And the devastation in your eyes would haunt him forever. Because despite everthing, you still loved him. He could see it. Which somehow made this infinitely crueler.

Imagine the second your car disappeared, Caleb snapped, completely. He stormed back upstairs so fast the witness physically recoiled when he entered. "She okay?" She asked quietly. Caleb ignored her and grabbed his phone immediately. The moment the line connected, his voice turned terrifying calm. "We've been compromised." Silence, then movement. "I want every surveillance team active now." "Sir?" "There was a fucking laser sight pointed at my fiancee." The room went dead silent. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Every emotion inside him mutating into something colder, meaner, more dangerous.

"Get covert protection on her immediately. Twenty four hour surveillance." He was silent for a moment. "My family too. I want every possible tail identified before sunrise." "Sir we still need authorization-" "Then authorize it." Caleb snapped viciously. Nobdy argued after that tone. Colonel Caleb angry was dangerous. Colonel Caleb angry over you was catastrophic. "They touched the wrong fucking person." He said coldly. The witness stared silently from the kitchen while listening to the conversation. And honestly? She looked scared of him now. Good. Because Caleb himself felt terrifying right now. Not because he lost control but because he still had it.

Imagine every ounce of rage insdie him became focused, precise, lethal. He wanted names, faces, bodies. He wanted everyone involved in this operation dragged into the light personally. No more patience, no more careful politics. These people made you cry. Made you take off your engagement ring. Made you look at him like he betrayed you. For that alone, Caleb wanted them ruined.

Imagine that night, long after orders were issued and surveillance confirmed you reached home safely, Caleb sat alone on the edge of his bed staring at his phone. The apartment felt unbearably empty now. Tiny traces of you everywhere. And now, he didn't know if he lost you forever. The engagement ring sat beside him. Caleb kept staring at it like maybe if he looked hard enough, tonight would undo itself somehow. His cheek stung where you slapped him. He welcomed the pain. He deserved worse. Slowly, Caleb unlocked his phone.

You: I love you. seen

You: Please trust me. seen

then Imagine, it took him a few more seconds and one message for the message to failed and realized you had blocked him. And for a several seconds, he just stared blankly at the screen. Then he laughed, one horrible breathless laugh. Because of course you blocked him. Of course you did. And somehow the reality of it finally crushed him completely. You, his fiancee thought he betrayed you. The woman he planned his entire future around. The woman he wanted children with. The woman he loved so much it scared him sometimes. And now, you were gone. All because he couldn't protect both the mission and your heart at the same time.

Imagine the way the laugh broke midway. Then Caleb lowered his head into his hands and finally cried. Quietly, violently, completely alone. Because there is nothing could do right now except finish this opertion. But afterwards? Afterwards he was getting you back. Even if it destroyed his pride entirely.

Imagine he would kneel, he would beg, he would crawl if he has to, and he would explain everything. Spend years rebuilding your trust if necessary. Because Caleb knew one terrifying truth with complete certainty now. He woud survive gunfire, war, blood, death. But losing you? That would be the thing that finally fucking killed him.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026°

: if I have typos, just think I can't spell. Cuz maybe i really cant XD

Tags kasi decisions ako sa life: @moltensceptergambit @scoupshushushu @ceceoboro @younghideoutberserker @sleepykittyenergy @spiceandsass @younbeanz @multi-fandom-fanfic ;p

[melancholicaleb]

The shattered Mirror Part 2

Part 1 Part 2

DAA!Caleb x non!MC

Content: college!AU, f!reader, academic rivals to lovers, angst, fluff, no mention of y/n, reader has a bad case of eldest daughter syndrome and former gifted kid, reader might come off as a bit childish, one sided hatred, family drama, mentions of MC.

Word count: 1k

a/n: hi! :D thank you so so much for giving me the confidence to keep writing! Sorry for the delay I was sick and swamped with work D:

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Caleb was just walking out of class with a smile on his face since he just got great feedback on his latest calculus assignment. He could even see her walking ahead a bit agitated. Oh this could be good.

He hurried his step and followed the familiar heap of hair. He frowned when he saw her take a turn to a quiet hallway. He slowed down and moved his head discreetly to peek at her.

She had her hands to the wall and was clearly agitated. “Stupid…Stupid! Stupid!” She said and hit the wall with her hand. She seemed on the verge of panic so he walked up to her.

“…Hey?” He called her name softly and she turned to look at him with wide eyes and frustration. It startled him and he took a step back so she wouldn’t launch at him with punches. “Are you okay?”

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”Are you okay?” He said.

Her week had been a shitshow. Truly. It started with a call from her parents who just had to tell her how hard her siblings were working. She even tried to get a word in about her own achievements so far but she was constantly interrupted by praise after praise for everyone but her.

And then she started failing her calculus quizzes. She had never been a genius at math but she had always done well enough to be confident she could do well at the DAA. It worked with calculus I and II and III. But recently, partial differential equations have been kicking her ass. She had been on a high in other courses, only to be hit with whiplash from the series of failures that came right after.

She hadn’t even enjoyed bickering with Caleb lately. It was grinding her gears whenever she got a peek at his grades. He truly was flawless and incredibly smart. It was a growing envy that felt like it might explode any second.

And today, he had been laughing with his friends and gloating loudly for her to hear about how good he was doing. Also about how some professors were considering writing great recommendation letters as soon as he graduated. She swore she even heard that he got a contact with the Farspace Fleet.

She was furious, it was like the weight of a whole truck pressing on her chest. She felt the weight of her worries, the immense pressure to succeed and be the best to impress everyone, and her heavy envy. It was suffocating. So when she slumped against the wall and heard “Are you okay?” From the number one sources of her predicament, she snapped. She could not help it or stop it.

“Am I okay? Why? So you can laugh with your stupid friends about how silly little me was so dramatic! And then gloat once more about how great Caleb Xia is! Oh Caleb! Everyone likes him! Caleb, can you help me with this? Caleb, aren't you just so smart? How easy it must be to be you!” Her voice kept getting higher and higher. Even some students passing by looked at them with surprised faces at the commotion but kept walking.

“Easy? What are you talking about?” He frowned and looked all innocent and supposedly confused. She felt her anger rise even more as she took some steps towards him.

“Yeah! Easy! Not all of us can be innate geniuses and breeze through every single thing they come across! Some of us have giant pressure and sometimes we struggle! Unlike you!” She yelled at him as she dug her finger on his chest with sharp taps. He looked at her with wide eyes. She probably looked insane to him.

“Struggling? Do you need help? I can share my notes—“ He was halfway done rummaging his backpack when she made a loud frustrated noise.

“Share your notes?!” Just the idea of it felt insulting to her. It was rubbing salt on the wound. “Don’t you dare insult me with such a thing! What you should do is keep your stupid mouth shut and leave me alone!”

She stomped away from him and didn’t stop walking until she got to her dorm. Where she sat on the floor and finally, she let herself cry.

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Caleb was stunned. He froze in place for a while after she left. He felt like he had just failed and greatly.

He felt like he was 10 again, trying his best to make sure everything was perfect for MC. Back then, whenever she came back to him crying despite his best efforts, he had felt like a complete failure.

And after today’s fiasco, he felt like the worst of the worst once again. He never intended this game of push and pull. The stupid bickering about grades and ‘who is the best’. It wasn’t supposed to make her feel small. It wasn’t supposed to hurt her.

But he did. And now he had no clue how to fix it.

He went back to his dorm and thought of sending a text. He had her number from a group chat for a party from ages ago. But what was he supposed to say? How could he apologize for fucking up this badly?

If he apologized and offered help once again, she would be furious. She might actually kill him on the spot.

At around 7 pm he was about to text her the cheesiest apology in the world when he heard a knock on his dorm door. He frowned since he didn’t remember inviting anyone today. And MC would’ve let him know if she was visiting. So he walked over to the door feeling a bit wary.

He did not expect to see her on the other side of the door. “Gideon gave me your address. Maybe I do need your notes.” She said with a beet red face and looking directly at the floor.

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taglist: @blueymilky07 @younghideoutberserker @elysiasgirlfriend @bentoverbckwrds1

a/n: a bit of a shorter chapter i apologize!! It was not my strongest and I felt like I self inserted too hard with the reader snapping. but i hope you enjoy it anyway! :D what do we say? Do I make them friends and then make Caleb go through the whole explosion and colonel Caleb or do I give Caleb some happiness? Should I give them comfort then angst or just comfort? Let me know :D i have all sorts of ideas for these two!!

[atomics-creations]

Untamed Pasts

LaDS. Zayne x NonMC!Reader

With every attempt at rekindling a past that was once real, the present becomes tied to directionless hopes. Zayne knows that all too well as he attempts to make up for what he's done.

4,396 words. major character death, angst, groveling, platonic relationships, crying, affection, f!reader, cross-posted on ao3

a/n: thank you for all the love given to chapter 1! i hope you like this chapter too :)

dividers by @uzmacchiato | ao3 link here

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 (soon!)

Everything is going wrong in Zayne’s life.

Twenty-four hour shifts were all he had known these past few months. Days upon days where his medical license felt like less of an achievement because it didn’t help with his race against time. Endless research and collaborations with other specialists for Protocore Syndrome, only to lead to nothing that could help with his childhood friend’s condition.

There were times he didn’t think things could get worse, but life loves to prove him wrong.

He remembered the panic coursing through his veins when he resuscitated MC. The loud machine mocked him with his inadequacies, his voice foreign even to him because of how loud and angry it sounded when he ordered the nurses around. He remembered the sigh of relief he didn’t allow himself to breathe, because he knew deep down that this won’t be the worst of it.

He would have to revive her again and again, until he couldn’t anymore.

“Water?” Doctor Greyson offered, pulling him out of the reverie of worry and back into his office. But as he takes the paper cup, it sloshes in his shaky hands, and he is reminded of someone.

You.

He remembered passing you by when he ran to MC’s hospital room, wishing he could’ve said something instead of letting fear overtake him. Perhaps a word letting you know you had been the reason his heart didn’t stop beating completely would’ve sufficed. Perhaps it would’ve erased the frown he saw on your face after the resuscitation. Perhaps it would’ve given him the courage to do more than just hold your hand.

“Can you call my girlfriend for me?” he asks Greyson, tilting his head towards his phone lying on his office couch.

“What for?”

“I need to hear her voice.”

But when you hung up on Greyson, Zayne immediately knew something was very wrong. Dread and confusion linger on his tired body, unsure what to do. Unsure what he can do.

He asks Greyson for his phone soon after.

He needs to talk to you.

“Are you all right?” are the first words he uttered when you picked up. It isn’t like you to hang up abruptly, nor is it like you to not clutch his hand when he holds it. 

It isn’t like you to hang up on him either. It’s one thing to hang up on Greyso — he’d done that many times before — but you had never done that to him. He supposes he deserves it for all your calls he failed to answer during his shifts, but concern overwhelms him nonetheless.

“I think she’s mad at you, Doctor Zayne,” Greyson unhelpfully concludes. 

“It would be more useful if you told me the reason behind her anger,” he snarls. Taking another sip of the water, he sees Greyson shrug through the rim of the cup. 

“Regardless, the Director asked you to take a break tonight. Maybe you can talk to her when you arrive home.”

“I’m not going home.”

Greyson scoffs. “In the state you’re in, you're basically an upcoming patient. Besides, don’t you want to spend more time with your girlfriend?”

Zayne takes another sip of the water, then pauses. There is nothing more he would rather do — nothing more he would want than to do that. But he simply can’t.

He sees your face in his mind again — your frown, the way your eyes refused to meet his, your harsh tone. Does it matter if he can’t if your happiness is on the line?

“I take back everything I just said. I’m heading home. Have Dr. Jones in charge of my patients tonight, Greyson.”

His friend smiles before heading out of Zayne’s office, leaving Zayne to contemplate for a few moments. Toying with his car keys in his fingers — a habit he’s gotten from you — he bolts to the hospital’s gift shop, hoping bouquets are still available even on a night so dreadful.

Hoping they can brighten up his life, just a little bit.

Zayne’s duffel bag meets the floor you kneel on.

Your cries were enough to make him run towards your bedroom. His exhaustion doesn’t stop him, the pain from shifts sharp with every stride, but he doesn’t waste any time looking for you.

And when he finds you, Zayne doesn’t waste a moment to contemplate. He kneels beside you and pulls you into his embrace despite your protests. Your fists meet his arms and your insults meet his heart, but he doesn’t let go. 

He doesn’t stop whispering your name as though it were a sacred vow. 

He doesn’t let himself break, even though open luggages and scattered clothes surround the both of you. 

He doesn’t loosen his hold on your body as your tears coat his scrubs, watering the jasmines beside the both of you.

He looks at the luggage with bated breaths.

You were planning to leave him.

Your wails are louder, sharper with every unintelligible word leaving your quivering lips. Zayne may be a man of many mistakes, but he’s learned from past arguments that those words are cold, harsh insults directed at him. He doesn’t have to ask, not when he knows you so well.

But for the life of him, he doesn’t understand why you would leave.

Or maybe he does.

Maybe his mistakes have made him unlovable. All those nights spent on research only to find nothing. All those nights he missed meals because grief had filled his stomach instead. All those nights spent on hospital grounds, slowly forgetting the feeling of your arms around him.

His grip on you loosens slightly, letting you know that he wouldn’t blame you if you chose to walk away.

But your cries are still loud, still pained. Your hand is on his coat as though it holds all your answers and your grievances. Your tears run down his scrubs. You’re holding onto him.

And no matter what happens, he will stay with you.

“I’m here, I’m here…” he murmurs, low and gravelly. A result of his exhaustion, only warm because it’s you he’s talking to. “I’m here.”

Unaware that that is, in fact, the problem, he jolts when your cries turn into ferocious screams.

“I wish you were gone! Leave m-me alone like you always do.”

He doesn’t, because where would he go if he wasn’t with you?

Moonlight illuminates the dark room, a reminder that the night has not yet ended despite everything that has happened. It shines on your face as you scream at him, making him realize just how much he’s forgotten the features he once fell in love with. Your words are lost to the air of the night as he stares, taking note of everything.

Your hair, the way it cascades on your shoulder as it collapses from your bun.

Your hands, the way your knuckles have been left unkissed for far too long.

Your face, the way every muscle constricts with each part of your anger.

Zayne is enamored.

Even though you want to leave — even though he knows he deserves to be left behind — he takes your hands in his. His calloused hands meet your clenched ones, coating them in his comfort. His company.

He doesn’t know how much you’ve wanted that, and how much you despise it now that you’ve received it.

He lets go of one of your hands to push the tossed clothes off of the bed, ignoring the way his heart burns at where those clothes would’ve gone had he not called. They can be tidied tomorrow morning, but for now, you are his priority.

“Get some rest. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Don’t tell me w-what to do!” Your words from the hospital ring in his ears like a familiar blade he allows himself to bleed onto. He enjoys the sensation like he’s always enjoyed your stubbornness, letting himself feel the pain of his inadequacies.

But even pain doesn’t overcome love, so he whispers, “Shh. You need some rest, my love,” as though that isn’t a weapon in and of itself.

It works, though, and soon your breaths have calmed and your eyes are closed.

And Zayne sits beside you, wondering if his heart could beat at all.

The next morning comes like an unexpected friendship — surprising and somewhat dreadful, especially when isolation is your soulmate.

But when you blink your eyes open and your eyelashes hesitate to separate from one another, you realize that it is, in fact, another day. Sunlight spills through your bedroom windows, peskily shining your opened luggage in its glow as if it seeks to remind you of what you failed to do.

You’re under the covers you’ve slept and cried in for years instead of basking in hotel sheets.

You’re still home. 

You’re still with Zayne.

Like you do every morning, you reach for his spot on the bed. What usually meets your fingertips are the smooth sheets and pillow, occasionally even his penguin plushie. Hope dies every morning you wish he were here.

But today is different.

Your hand finds Zayne’s sleeping face, caressing his unruly hair. It shocks you, makes your heart beat in ways it hadn’t before. 

Perhaps if you still had hope in your heart, you would smile. You would pry his glasses off of his face and joke about how overworked he is, as though that was a laughing matter and not one you’ve thought about dying over. You would pepper his face in light kisses, delighted that he’s home.

But because every ounce of hope has dissipated, you turn around and stand up from the bed. The luggage is still in the same place it was when you cried, but the items are gone. Messy clothes, tossed toiletries… 

The luggage is empty, save for a little note in messy doctor’s handwriting.

Don’t leave, my love.

Perhaps in another life, where happiness lingers in the place grief does, you would wake Zayne up and tell him that you would never leave him. He would be peppered with so many desperate kisses and thankful pleas that it would be impossible for him to doubt you.

But you simply rip the note in two and put the pieces in your pocket, keeping a mental note to throw them out.

Being alive is truly a curse.

Your tears don’t get the best of you like it does on most mornings, so you push yourself and make some breakfast. The scent of warm food is forgotten now, leaving only the simple meals you can toss in machines in hopes they come out somewhat edible.

But Zayne beat you to your own game.

He stands in front of the stove, methodically cooking eggs on the heated pan. The sound of oil popping is something you haven’t heard in a while, as well as the surprised jolt Zayne does when it pops in his direction. 

Butterflies flutter where the flowers of grief bloom, but they die just as fast when your clouds of thoughts arise to wash them away.

Has Zayne cooked for MC when he watched over her in Akso Hospital? Has he provided conversation that led to laughter instead of the silence that haunts you? Has he given her jasmines similar to the ones laying on your bedroom floor?

“Good morning,” he greets, tearing you out of your reverie. “The Director gave me a day off, which is why I’m here.”

“Oh.”

Were you disappointed or surprised? You’re not sure anymore.

Zayne places the scrambled eggs on the dinner table, the steam’s warmth making the morning less daunting. You don’t admit how much you miss this — quiet mornings with the absence of worries or anything else that could take them away.

You don’t admit how much you crave his cooking, even if it’s eggs that are slightly burnt.

You don’t admit how much you crave his company, because one morning of good food doesn’t erase all the time you spent wishing he was here. A good breakfast doesn’t wipe years of fallen tears and unfulfilled prayers.

The morning remains silent, not by the gentleness of domesticity, but because words are less exhausting unsaid than screamed — and because grievances are easier to handle when they’re piled up rather than spilled all over your souls.

Or so you think.

The next few sunrises bring warm gifts, but unfortunately for Zayne, you don’t seem to want to accept them.

Early morning routines — which usually consist of him making himself look presentable to all willing eyes — now include little handwritten notes scattered across the house. For every day you chose to stay, there would be new notes that are intended to be words of gratitude.

I watered the jasmines for you, my love.

There are chocolates on the kitchen counter. I saved some just for you.

And your favorite one: MC is okay!

How odd is it that the most emotion you’ve gotten out of him is through a post-it note about another woman. 

You simply roll your eyes with every new note — every new attempt at making it up to you. It’s worthless considering he hasn’t figured out why you were mad in the first place, but deep down in your soul — where you’ve learned to deem yourself unworthy of anybody’s love — the notes are reminiscent of his once everpresent existence. The early days where breakfasts are warmer and coated with sweet nothings, while nights would be coated in his love.

But the notes also remind you of the fact that he isn’t here. 

Those words — as futile as they are — are better heard with the husk of his voice than read on illegible post-its. At least that feels real. At least that is something you can cherish.

At least that would mean he’s next to you, which would make it easier for you to hurt him as much as his silence has hurt you.

But because not all mornings are merciful, you rip this note in half and toss the remnants in the trash. 

Even though the bedroom’s bin is always coated in the color of his notes, Zayne still tries to find ways to make you happy.

After grueling news about Protocore Syndrome’s mortality rate, he comes home with takeout he bought from the bakery beside Akso Hospital. The tray contains cheesecakes, macarons, and other desserts he remembered were your favorites.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Doctor Zayne?” the baker — an old lady Zayne had come to see as a second mother — asked, and he didn’t know how to answer. Every day, he dreads coming home to an empty house. 

Every day, he wonders why you would want to leave.

Now that he’s home and he sees you on the couch watching TV, Zayne breathes a sigh of relief. 

You’re home.

He settles on the dinner table quietly, afraid to be seen by the one woman he’s wanted to see his entire shift. The desserts sit on the table, waiting to be noticed by their recipient. The jasmines watered by your tears sit prettily next to it. Still alive, still beautiful.

The only sign that you noticed him that night was the glare pointed at his direction. No words were needed to kill a man who has one foot in the grave and the other in medicine.

And yet, he tries to find different ways to approach you without his personal fears meddling in his way.

The next morning, Zayne tries cooking breakfast instead of writing notes. The sun isn’t even out when burnt bacon and slightly overcooked eggs grace the dinner table.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispers in your hair before heading off to work, careful not to jolt you awake. 

The days after approach like snowfall — cold, unwelcoming, nostalgic. Zayne finds his little breakfast plates empty after returning home from labs and conferences, which allows him to breathe his first sigh of relief on those days. He eats the food you leave on the table — the closest he can get to you. He savors the emptiness of dinners without your presence and suffers the agony he so often feels.

Whatever he may have done, he deserves it.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying to care for you.

“What’s this?” you ask him on one particular morning. Zayne holds up an ice sculpture he made the night before — not quite the same as the one you shattered, but he would be ashamed to say he had forgotten what the original looked like.

“Two snowmen holding hands.”

He waits for your reaction, a sliver of hope welling up in his chest for the first time in years. He doesn’t quite get close, no, but the snowmen are reminiscent of a past long gone. A past now reduced to workloads and quiet declarations. A past that melts like the sculpture does.

Zayne waits for something. Waits to see if the spark in your eyes means anything. Waits to see if your hands, still unkissed, reach for his freezing ones. Waits to see if what was once real can still be rekindled.

But patience can be futile when hope is fragile.

Your hand brushes his briefly as you take the sculpture before walking away. Silence ensues, fills the house with its torment, and Zayne doesn’t know what to think.

Perhaps he deserved the nights in the hospital full of dying hopes in his living hands. Perhaps he deserved it for all the times he’s failed to find a cure for his childhood best friend’s heart condition. Perhaps he deserved every second of his anguish — every second of worry, for you and her.

His tears blend with the melted ice in his hands.

How could such a genius feel so lost?

“Oh, look who’s here.”

Zayne is met with tubes, machines, and the snarky tone of his dying childhood best friend as soon as he enters her new hospital room. Covered head to toe in personal protective equipment, he feels as though he’s a ghost in her life. 

Not a friend who spent his entire life trying to save her. Not the doctor failing to keep her alive.

A ghost. 

Impersonal, dead, invisible.

“You were resuscitated again a few hours ago,” he comments lightly, but judging by her grimace, she did not need the reminder. “Are the tubes painful?”

“Everything is painful,” she whispers. Her voice, usually so bright and happy, is reduced to softness. When she winces and her heartbeat spikes, Zayne rushes to adjust tubes and hold her hand, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time he would see her breathing.

If he were a better surgeon — a better researcher — she would be outside of this godforsaken intensive care unit and laughing happily under the sun’s rays. She would be tied to friendships and romance, not to tubes connecting to lifelines. She would be at celebratory dinners, drunk and spilling her heart away.

She would be asking him about his dark circles and defending you if she found out how cold you’ve been towards him.

Consumed by what ifs and hopeless attempts and futile races against death’s embrace, Zayne looks directly in her eyes — the light long gone, replaced by a feeling so familiar to him: longing.

Longing for what? He couldn’t guess.

“If I die tonight…”

Zayne freezes.

“Promise me that you won’t internalize it.”

He stays silent because he knows his tears will show, even beneath the layers of protective equipment.

“You’ll live, MC,” he murmurs with all of the hope he can muster. As long as his hands work and his heart beats, she will have a chance to live.

But she shakes her head.

“You know w-when your time is up, a-and I think mine is soon.” She cuts his response off with a wave. “Don’t blame yourself when it happens.”

“It will not happen.”

“Oh, it will,” she retorts, but this time, there is a smile beneath the mask that keeps her alive. “Y-you’ve been around death often, Zayne. It makes itself known before it takes a soul.”

Zayne wishes he could disagree, but not even textbook evidence can dispute her point. Death is a dreadful force that bows to nobody — especially not the noble living. He knows it all too well; he’s shed too many tears to fool himself into thinking otherwise.

“You know, your girlfriend visited me right after I was revived.” MC’s small smile shrank into a flat line. “She braided my hair.”

She shows the tiny braids peeking out of her pillow. Little ribbons hold her hair together, similar to how they were when she was a kid. 

“And while she braided my hair, she talked about the dinner party you introduced us in. I can’t believe s-she thought she wasn’t the life of the party when s-she was the topic of all the hunters’ conversations!”

Her voice is full of life now, and it was easy to hope that she would live a better tomorrow. It was easy to see how you bring life to the people you meet.

“I-I regret not approaching her again sooner. We would’ve been good friends.”

A lump appears in Zayne’s throat. He looks at his friend’s braids and is reminded of when your hands caressed his head and tied multiple little ponytails on it. Your hands were gentle and your words were soft — like a blanket on dark nights, moonlight on maniacal ocean waves.

He blinks away his tears. They have no place here.

“Can I tell you something, MC?” Zayne asks, akin to a fearful child who wasn’t allowed to be anything else but perfect.

Her eyes, which were previously shut, open up slightly. Bloodshot from sleep, red from exhaustion.

He knows that look all too well.

“Of course.”

Zayne takes a breath. Then another.

“She’s mad at me.”

“For what?” Her head visibly tilts in confusion, even as she’s restricted by tubes and machines strapped to her body.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to make it up to her, but I don’t think any of my attempts are working.”

She moves her legs from beneath the blanket but stops when she remembers the tubes restrict her. Life desperately clings onto her regardless of her condition, and her desire to help overwhelmingly surpasses death’s hold.

“L-let me guess. Were your attempts all wordless gestures and silent acts of care?”

Zayne freezes again. For someone who doesn’t have his Evol, she’s suspiciously good at making him do that.

“I thought so.” Her laugh is quiet, but it’s akin to the tones of mischievous cats whenever they push something off counters. “Have you ever tried asking her what’s wrong?”

“No,” he admits. 

“How would y-you know how to fix a problem you don’t know about?” she says, the mock of it soothed by the care laced in the words. “It’s not a bad thing to be close to your loved ones, you know. I’m sure she’ll welcome you with open arms once you allow yourself to be…”

MC’s breath hitches, the machine maniacally beeping. Zayne rushes to adjust tubes and equipment — precision of a surgeon, heart of a human — but it doesn’t calm down.

“...seen.”

She finishes her sentence with only a sliver of life in her body. Zayne holds her hand — gently, as to not butcher the tubes in her veins — but retains the desperation of a supplicant whose hands and knees bleed for an answer.

“MC!”

The machines quiet down, like they always seem to do, but Zayne doesn’t feel an ounce of relief. He sees her body giving up, the Protocore consuming every life out of her until it will finally release her from its torment. He watches her as she catches air and breathes it into her lungs, only holding onto life because it hasn’t left her completely.

His hand stills atop hers.

It’s one of the only times his hands were worthless in a hospital room.

“You’re so c-closed off,” she huffs. “Always thinking that distance will heal what you’ve broken… when all people seek from you is your company. You did that to me so many times.”

Her coughs momentarily break him, but tears caress his face anyway.

He’s never felt so exposed in his life. His intentions, his fears of losing you came from insecurities buried beneath his facade. Maybe if he was better, he would deserve you more. If he were a better doctor, a better person, he would one day come home and bask in the love you have always given him. 

However, in the pursuit of being a better man, he has abandoned his role as your lover. In pursuit of perfection, he has given you absence. In pursuit of believing you deserved better than a man who came home broken, he’s given you a version of him that broke you.

“Thank you for all the work you’ve put into saving me,” she whispers, and Zayne holds her hand tighter. “But remember that perfection is impossible. I’m still alive because of you, but my death will not be your fault.”

“Please don’t say that…” but even he hears the doubt in his tone.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” Her tears coat her face now. “And take care of her for me.”

Zayne basks in the suffocation of the grief lingering in the intensive care unit, desperately talking to his best friend for as long as he can. Tears coat the conversation in melancholy, but he knows that her breathy retorts are her attempts to make him laugh. 

And so he does.

He thinks of you when she mentions the gold dress you wore at the dinner party. He thinks of you when she laughs at his attempts to comfort you (“An ice sculpture you didn’t even bother to solidify correctly?” she mocked). He thinks of you with every laugh, every smile that comes out of him even as his mask hides every one.

Zayne says a final goodbye to his best friend that night, promising her that he’ll smile and laugh and bask in the warmth of all the sunshines she wouldn’t be able to live through.

“I love you, Zayne,” she whispers, broken with acceptance of the fate about to overtake her. He returns the words with dry jokes so that laughter is what accompanies her.

And when news breaks of her peaceful death, Zayne finds you in the hospital’s waiting room and runs, runs, runs to the only woman who can hold his heavy heart.

thank you for reading! any form of interaction is appreciated. take care :)

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[crimsonrubie]

Past Feelings, Present Time 2

Part 1 – Part 2

Masterlist

Description: You, Macy and Caleb were out on a walk after you reunited with the presumably dead man. Macy had moved on, but your feelings only came crashing back for the boy you once had a huge crush on back in your childhood.

Word count: 2.4k+

A/N: The prolonged part two is finally here. Idk how to feel about it but I hope I did it justice. Will try and make it a trilogy or maximum four chapters, lets see how this goes.

P.S, Macy here is mc!

Reblogs and comments are really appreciated!♡

You sighed for the upteenth time as your eyes flicked between your two options. Will you buy the box of cereals, or the box of noodles?

Currently, you were grocery shopping and because of your low budget, you were forced to only get the necessities for survival which consisted of cereals or a pack of noodles.

The convenience store was a treasure gem tucked away in the corner of your neighborhood with its bright lights penetrating the small parking lot in front of it. It held all the necessities and even had amazing discounts that you would be notified for via messages. Sadly though, there were no current offers, except for buy one and get one free but for cat food.

Unfortunately, you don’t have a cat.

So when you opened up your fridge to see the embarrassing sight of a mostly empty jar of jelly and some bread, you decided it was about time you restocked. Which places you in your current predicament.

You liked cereal but honestly didn't have the energy sometimes to eat before your morning shifts so you opted for the noodles. You never go wrong with a pack of noodles. You set the cereal back on the shelf and tucked the pack of noodles in your shopping basket.

You turn around to head to the next aisle until your body collides into someone. You let out a yelp and step back, about to apologize until you hear a snicker.

“Damn. Didn't think I would run into you here.” Your body locks up. Standing in front of you with all the arrogance in the world is your ex-boyfriend. The one guy you never expected to see again and especially not in the convenience store you always frequented.

“Sorry, you got the wrong person.” You speak with as much indifference as you can muster up and side step him but you purse your lips and furrow your brows when he blocks your path. Your grip on your basket tightened, your knuckles for sure turning white at the strain as you fought to keep your composure.

“No I don't think I do. I'm pretty sure I would recognise the person that ruined my life.” There's a hint of poison dripping from his tone, and you looked the other way, letting out a strained sigh under your breath.

“Look, let's not bring up the past in a convenience store. Just let me by and let's forget we ever saw each other-” As you're saying that, your foot takes another step before you're yanked back because of a tight grip on your forearm. You wince and get dragged into a corner, a blind spot for the multitude of cameras planted around the building.

“Let go-!” You try not to make a commotion by keeping your voice down but jump when his crazed eyes bore at you with all the hatred and anger that swelled up for the months you hadn't seen each other. You were slowly coming to realise you might not have a way out of this situation without it escalating.

You swung before you could think as your vision turned red. The basket holding your little groceries cracked on his head, causing him to let out a pained groan and with this little distraction, you took it as your cue to run. You side-stepped him and ran out of the store, sending a sad goodbye to the food you never got the chance to welcome home in your head. You kept running after you left the store, speeding your way down the pathway until your lungs screamed for air which forced you to gradually slow down until you stopped a good distance away and crouched down on the sole of your feet, trying to catch your breath.

Your phone rang with an incoming call as you struggled to get your breathing back in check. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and inspected the random number calling you. After just escaping from a crazy ex, getting a call from a random number would typically mean bad news, but you answered it anyway.

You gulped before raising the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey honey! Finally got a hold of your number!” You blink at the sudden one eighty flip of emotions and you let out a long sigh away from the microphone before bringing it back to your ear.

“Caleb? Hey, uh, how are you?” You cringe at your breathless tone and hope he doesn't catch it through the call.

“I'm well, I'm well. Though I wanted to call to arrange a dinner with you. That is if you accept, of course.” Your lips tilt slightly up in a smile and you nod but realise he can't see you so you verbally answer back.

“Yeah I'm down. Will Macy be there too?” You gather yourself up and continue your trek back home, still glancing back every now and then, just in case.

“No actually, I was planning for just us.” Even though it's a statement, it comes around as a question from his side and you blink at the hint of nervousness you could detect in his tone. He only wanted to go out with you alone?

“Oh.” You rub the back of your neck with your free hand in contemplation as you consider his offer. You had only reunited once that last time with mc and thinking it over, he might have wanted to see you alone so he can make up for lost time. Either way you couldn't deny his offer, partly because you also wanted to make up for lost time and mend things with your childhood friend.

“I would really like it if we could meet one on one again. Like old times.” His soft voice spoke and you let out a sigh with a smile on your face.

“Of course, Caleb. Like old times.” You hummed in confusion when he didn't answer and moved your phone away from your ear. You tapped the screen to wake it up but frowned when it refused to light up. You clicked on the power button on the side but still, nothing.

“Really? Now you decide to die?!” Your exaggerated accusations are uttered under your breath as you grumble about the old and barely functioning phone in your hand.

You're so absorbed in trying to get your phone to work that you don't notice footsteps closing in until a hand grabs your forearm and yanks you back, stealing the air from your lungs. You let out a strangled cry and drop the phone, hearing the sound of a screen shattering on the pavement. Your attempt at yelling out for help is muffled when a dry and rough hand clamps over your mouth tightly.

You strike out with your free arm and elbow the person behind you, but other than a few grunts, his grip stays tight as you lose your footing when he continues to drag you backwards into a dark alley.

Your eyes widen and your body frails in panic as you jump and try to loosen his hold but to no avail. The person was visibly way bigger than you and by the strength he displayed, your chances of escaping were slim.

You still tried to scream but were cut off when the hand that was locked on your mouth moved up and covered your only other way of breathing or making sounds, your nose. His thumb and the top of his forefinger pressed down on your nostrils, blocking your airway.

He continued dragging you backwards until your view of the outside was all but a dark area in the distance. Your hands were flailing, desperately scratching his arms in an attempt to lose his hold but to no avail. Spots begin infiltrating your vision and your struggles become weaker against the immense strength of your attacker.

“Not so confident in your swinging now are you, you bitch?” You finally realized just who exactly snuck up on you due to the ugly sneer that left his mouth but you were losing air quickly. Your arms were gradually becoming weaker at the loss of oxygen.

You were teetering on the edge of consciousness when a sharp yell resounded from your attacker. His earlier grip on you abruptly vanished, snatched away which left you stumbling forward.

Your knees buckled and slammed down on the cold concrete. You coughed and took wild breaths in through your mouth and nose while your arms held you up, palms flat on the ground as you tried to slow your breathing.

“Touch her again and you won't have only your bones broken.” A dark voice spoke out lowly, so low you would have missed it if you hadn't recognized the person it belonged to. However the person you knew in your childhood and the one standing in front of you, were two completely contrasting personas. The one you were so familiar with never showed you any energy other than a golden retriever's. This one emitted a darker aura, one so scary you would hate to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

“Who the hell-” The strained voice of your attacker speaks up but before he can finish his sentence, the loud scrunching of bones resonated through the alley. You flinched at the violent sound and coughed a few more times until your airway fully opened up and breathing finally came easy.

“You don't get to speak. Or scream. It would be a shame to taint her ears with your filth.” That familiar-unfamiliar voice speaks out again in a low, threatening tone. When you finally glance back, all you see is his broad back, shielding you behind him from the sorry sight of the man facing the consequences of his actions. Your savior's stance was tall and intimidating, one of his fists clenched tightly, a form of energy oozing out which you could only guess was his evol in action.

Caleb.

“C-Caleb?” You struggled to push his name out, confused and scared as much as you hated it. Nevertheless, no one in their right mind wouldn't be terrified in your position.

At the mention of his name in your hesitant tone, his head whipped around and you caught that dark, almost empty look in his eyes before a complete transformation occurred in that millisecond.

“Honey! Hey, hey, you alright? Does anything hurt?” You got whiplash by the sudden turn of emotions and dumbly shook your head, speechless and still processing the past few minutes. He knelt in front of you in seconds, his hands steading you from your shoulders and eyes scanning you from head to toe for any injuries.

“How did you…” You don't finish your question before he lets out a relieved sigh and looks back at you with a gentle gaze.

“That's not important right now, honey. I need to get you somewhere safe until I'm sure no one else is with him.”

“It was just him though.” He shakes his head at your response and slides his arms underneath your body. You squeak when your body goes airborne and is then resting against a warm chest. Your arms automatically circle his neck and with that, he starts walking with steady footsteps so as to not jostle you in his arms.

Your brain was scrambling to make sense of things while Caleb looked nearly unbothered. You couldn't fathom just how he was able to come here so fast only minutes after the call was cut off.

You knew of his current position as the Farspace Fleet's Colonel, you just weren't aware of the kind of terror he instilled into those who got on his bad side.

“W-Wait, what about him-?” Your curiosity gets the better of you as you try to look over his shoulder but all you see is the pitch darkness of the deep alleyway. No trace of your attacker to be seen.

“He'll be dealt with shortly. He will never dare come close to you again.” You furrow your eyebrows at the ease of how he speaks and frown.

“Caleb-”

“Don't worry about a thing, honey. Everything is handled.”

“Caleb you don't-”

“I'll never let what happened back there be repeated ever again.”

“Caleb, you're not listening to me!” He seizes his footsteps at your outburst. Your lips part in an unsteady breath before catching yourself a second later and force yourself to regain control of your breathing. He kept on droning about saving you, protecting you, as if his whole goal was to distract your brain from the big elephant in the room.

He's looking ahead, his expression blank, devoid of any emotion. Somehow, it's worse than before. There was an expression back when he faced your ex. Rage. Frustration. At least there had been something. This expression was fully blank, with no emotion visible on the surface, as though he shut the gates of his mind to everyone. Even you.

“I'm not listening?” His voice was low, breathy and you gulped but stared at him unwaveringly and nodded. If you weren't so close, you wouldn't have noticed the slight twitch in his face before his eyes redirected to you, following the tilt of his head to stare down at you in his arms.

“I knew you were outside because of the static from the wind. You were also out of breath. You never run, especially not so late into the night. So when your side of the call was abruptly cut off and I couldn't reach you anymore, you know what was scrambling in my head?” He paused to let the question linger.

“All the worst case scenarios. I reached many ugly conclusions for most of them.” Your lips parted as he murmured, his tone gradually turning frustrated.

“So when I got here and witnessed you about to pass out because of that lowlife? That's when I decided that his blood will be shed.” He was frowning in frustration, his brows furrowed.

“Caleb, what are you saying…” Your fingers began trembling where you held onto his shirt.

“It doesn't matter right now. I need to get you somewhere safe. I promise I'll tell you everything I can but until then, please let me do this.” There is a pleading look in his eyes, making you concede with a defeated sigh and nod begrudgingly.

Seeming satisfied with your willingness to cooperate, he lets a small smile slip out and carries on walking with sure and steady footsteps, meanwhile your brain was going wild at the past events and what this meant for you now.

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[pearlescenthoney]

content. angst cause rafayel made me mad again. MCD. non-mc! reader

the bride of the sea god had the ability to breath underwater.

the bride of the sea god didn’t require a kiss every time she submerged beneath the surface of the ocean, lungs accustomed to the viscosity of the water due to the bond.

rafayel still chose to seal his lips over yours when he invited you to a romantic swim date, sturdy hand gently dragging your body into the waves as he breathed life beneath your ribs with a kiss.

…so why were you like this?

why were you limp against the damp sand, eyes staring soullessly into his storming orbs as he pressed and pressed and pressed both his palms onto your chest, trying to resuscitate your dead body.

“my pearl, please…” he begged between harsh gasps of air, entire body quivering on top of yours as he pushed against your upper torso with all his might. “please, i can’t lose you again.”

heavy globs of tears traversed down his cheeks, looping over his trembling lips and dripping down to your paler skin. you were completely unresponsive, body spasming into the sand solely because of rafayel’s strength.

“i c–can’t– why?” he punctuated with a harsh intake of air, fastly filling his lungs and leaning down to kiss your lips.

to pass life, as he always did.

your chest puffed slightly from the air, but... that’s all it did. there was no movement, no reaction.

no sign of life in you.

“why, why, why, why?” at last, exhausted from the compressions, rafayel chanted like a mantra the question plaguing his mind.

guilt eating at his heart, whole being shaken by grief and terror, he toppled over your body and cried loudly into your cold shoulder.

you were dead and he would never know why.

you were dead and he would forever blame himself for it.

you were dead because you were not the sea god’s bride.

his kiss did bring you temporary life, but also eternal slumber.

©pearlescenthoney 2026. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

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