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spacesquidlings · 2 months

Text

Amends

For maybe the first time ever, Rafayel was late. And not just late, but very late. And when the minutes turn to hours and still he doesn't arrive for their date, she begins to panic, beginning a frantic search for her lost artist. Once he's found, she doesn't know what will happen next, but he'll have to do a lot to make up for it.

Pairing: Rafayel x MC Tags: Fluff, established/implied relationship, forgiveness/making it up to her, emotional hurt/comfort Taglist: @aluneposting

For the first time, she was early.

Not to say she was ever late. She would arrive right on time for days she planned to spend with Rafayel, only for him to whine at length about how long he had been waiting for her, time slipping away like water through fingertips as he aged and the world crumbled in his impatience.

Sometimes she would try to arrive early. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. Yet no matter how early she arrived, Rafayel would always be there, tapping his foot dramatically, lamenting how he was withering away into nothing while he waited for her.

And on the days he was feeling most impatient, she would find him at her door, pouting as he demanded to know why she hadn’t let him in earlier, why she was still getting ready when he wanted to see her now.

A memory of his petulant whine as she wrote down the code for her apartment so he could just let himself in next time he was feeling restless rose to the forefront of her mind. He had been standing outside her building, tapping his foot furiously, arms crossed, his lips pulled into such a magnificent pout that birds could have perched on his bottom lip. She wouldn’t have even noticed he’d been there if her windows hadn’t been opened, if he hadn’t been whining so loudly she’d been able to hear it from inside her apartment.

He’d been early. Hours early. He’d decided that they’d needed to meet earlier in the day, that his artist’s heart had called on him to do something different than what they’d been planning that day.

She hadn’t really understood what he’d been saying, too focused on handing him a slip of paper with the code to her apartment on it so that the next time his heart or his intuition or his whatever decided their plans needed to change and he didn’t want to text her, he could just let himself in.

He had been so delighted he’d quieted instantly, tucking the paper into his pocket and throwing himself onto her couch, waxing on about how lucky she was to have someone like him in her life, and that she must adore him to trust him with her apartment code.

Whether she adored him or not had been something she’d been planning to keep to herself, although the truth that she’d been keeping buried in the soil of her heart was sprouting, emerald green shoots emerging, pale pink buds beginning to unfurl.

It was because of that feeling, the one blooming as languidly as flowers in spring, that she felt a fist squeezing around her heart, that she felt the air rush from her lungs even as they spasmed helplessly. Because if she was early, that meant that Rafayel was late.

She drummed her fingers on the top of the café table she had snagged when she’d arrived. She’d felt so terribly smug when she’d slid into her seat, arriving early enough that Rafayel would have nothing to chastise her for. He would undoubtedly tease her for arriving before him, but his pleased laughter was sunlight to the garden of her heart, coaxing seedlings from the ground. She would happily listen to his teasing, rolling her eyes and feigning annoyance, as he chattered on when he arrived.

But then the minutes had slipped by, water spilling through the cracks between her fingers, and Rafayel had not appeared. There had been no echo of his voice, no tap of his foot.

His presence filled every room he stepped into, and yet the café had remained empty, hollow as marrowless bones, sucked clean. All around her people were talking, laughing, indulging in the company of their friends, their family, their lovers. But it was dull, like she was hearing their voices from beneath the surging waves of the sea.

Her heart slowed, her stomach lurched. Her blood slowed to a sluggish flow, congealing in her veins. Winter spread through her body, latticed frost coating her bones, the spring she had felt flourishing in her marrow barren, decayed.

Panic should have been a wildfire, the furious flight of her heart, jackrabbit beats pounding in her throat, so quick, so wild in its panic that her veins pulsed from her skin. She should have heard nothing but the rush of her burning blood, fiery rapids drowning her beneath their foaming churn.

But Rafayel was fire, warmth. Without the glowing embers of heat that he coaxed to life, she felt herself wilting, withering in the cold left in his wake.

She wanted to shake herself for such dramatics, knowing that Rafayel would never let her live this down if he ever got wind of the frenzy she had worked herself into. But with even the threat of eternal teasing hanging over her head, she couldn’t seem to push away the oily nerves slithering in her belly.

She drummed her fingers on the top of the table, staring at the little clock hung on the wall of the café.

He couldn’t always be early, surely. Rafayel’s moods were as changing as the tides, ebbing and flowing at his whim. He could be a summer storm, waves so powerful they could erode stone in one moment, calm and steady as a beating heart in the next.

The thought did little to calm her as the seconds slipped by. Each breath was a grain of sand slipping through an hourglass, piling at her feet as her anxiety grew. She checked her phone, opening up her texts with Rafayel and scanning them, trying to figure out if something was wrong, if she’d upset him.

It didn’t seem like anything had been out of the ordinary. She’d sent him a picture of a goldfish she’d seen at a pet shop the day before and he’d sent a stream of emojis followed by demands to set it free. He’d texted her just after midnight demanding attention, followed by a number of photos of a shade of green he was trying to perfect. And then she’d woken up to more messages, asking her to help him come up with an excuse to turn down a party invitation.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as her eyes trailed over the string of texts she’d sent him since she’d arrived at the café. Gloating first, at arriving before he did. Five minutes later asking him if he wanted her to order for him, if he was hungry. Ten more minutes later asking if everything was okay.

Then another ten minutes later asking again if he was okay, where was he?

There were more messages after that, her growing unease palpable in her words, the use of the crying emojis that he liked to tease so much, and then no emojis at all as time had ticked on.

He would tease her for the string of texts, but it was too late for her pride now. She’d lost that when she’d given him the code to her apartment and started stocking his favourite foods for when he showed up starving and delirious after painting nonstop for days, anyways. A needy stream of texts was the least of her concerns, weak ammunition for his sharp words when they both knew she had a drawer dedicated to his clothes whenever he came over.

So she didn’t hesitate to send another message, another ‘where are you? I miss you,’ that made her stomach lurch as she tapped send. She shoved her phone into her pocket before she could think on it, heat flaring in her cheeks, her fingers trembling.

It was from worry, from concern. At least she told herself it was, anyways. She couldn’t bear to think about the alternative, about how she was admitting to something still growing, a planted seed that hadn’t yet begun to sprout. Green shoots vibrant in the soil of her heart, yet too small for her to willingly acknowledge.

Yet, anyways.

They would bloom soon, but there was fear lurking in the shadows between her ribs, in the hidden places between the knots of her muscles. A predator surveying its prey. The sharp prick of teeth as that worry bit into her, refused to let go.

That he did not have the same garden buried within him, that he was not tending to seeds and emerald shoots that promised a technicolour explosion when they unfurled.

She shook herself, trying to dislodge the thought, trying to ignore the stutter of her heart as the fear buried its canines into her flesh. What mattered right now was that Rafayel was nowhere to be found, and the minutes were forever ticking by, and there was not a single response to her embarrassingly long thread of unanswered messages.

Grinding her teeth to try and stop the shake in her hands, she pulled up his contact again. She couldn’t let herself think, absolutely not. Because this would be the icing on the cake, the nail in her coffin. Rafayel could be lying half-dead on the side of the road and finding out she had not only texted him more than twice, but that she had called him, would revive him instantly. If only so he could tease her about it until she could hardly speak from how flushed she became, from how the gears in her mind had ground to a halt.

Although the image of him lying near-death in some ditch made her heart clench, an iron fist clutching it, refusing to allow it to beat.

She tapped the call button, lifted her phone to her ear. There was no way he was lying dead somewhere, absolutely no way.

She listened as the phone rang and rang and rang, the high-pitched ring like a siren sounding in her mind. When finally she heard Rafayel’s voice her heart began to soar, and then just as quickly it plummeted as she realized it was the automatic message for his voicemail, a facsimile of his smile in his recorded voice.

Breath shuddering, she did her best to keep her message brief, hoping her panic didn’t stain her words before she hung up.

Her coffee had long since cooled, turned to ice in her mug, but she drank it without thought as she tried to quell her growing alarm.

It was again without thought that her body moved once more, her mind still swimming, trying to figure out where he could be and why he was late. She packed up her things, shrugged on her jacket, clutching her gloves and the handle of her purse in her hands as she hurried to the door.

Only once she had stepped into the embrace of the winter, stray snowflakes dancing on her cheeks as they were ushered through the air by the wind, sunlight refracting through dripping icicles, casting rainbows against the sides of shops and businesses as she passed by, did she realize she was on her way to his studio.

The cold air sharpened her mind, brought her back to herself. It banished the fog of her anxiety, the path clouded by her fear. She would check his studio first, and if he wasn’t there she would check the beach. And if she still could not find him then she would try to contact Thomas, because surely he would know where Rafayel was, and why he never showed up for their date. Without so much as a text.

She was nodding to herself, her little plan easing the tension holding her taut. She could feel the way her muscles began to loosen, unknot themselves.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just enough to settle her mind, enough to stop the shaking in her hands.

Although the tremors returned when she arrived at his home, her footsteps echoing through the near cavernous rooms as she searched behind couches and under tables. She threw open doors, pulled back the messy sheets of his bed, tossed pillows to the side, unable to quell the trembling in her bones, the aftershocks of a quake that promised more devastation in their wake.

She was being dramatic and she knew it, but chest heaving, the entire house turned upside down, she began to wonder if her dramatics weren’t that dramatic. Not anymore.

It was so bizarre she pinched herself, wondering if this was a dream brought on by stress, or maybe she was in an alcohol-induced haze from drinking too much on an empty stomach.

But no, the upturned house didn’t melt into a darkened void, she did not feel the beginnings of a migraine as she slowly roused. It was entirely real, which meant Rafayel was entirely missing.

Your plan, she reminded herself, tucking her hands into her pockets as she hurried from the house. Don’t forget your plan.

She was going to check the beach next, in all of the spots he liked best for sketching or daydreaming until the sun melted into the horizon. It was his favourite place to be, where she did often find him when he wasn’t at home.

He would be there. He had to be there.

Yet for all her bluster when she arrived on the sandy shore, the grey of the ocean reaching icy tendrils across the sand, there was nothing. No one. The beach was as barren as her withered hope, nothing but the cry of a lone gull and the heavy thrum of her heart echoing in her ears.

The wind was colder here, and it stung her cheeks, flinging sand and salt into her ears even as she blinked furiously, trying to keep them clear. Her hair whipped through the air, the cold, callous hands of winter raking through it, tugging at it like it might tear it free from her scalp.

Hands red from the cold, shaking from nerves, they fumbled as she tried to retrieve her phone from her pocket. It slipped from her fingers, tumbled into the sand, sinking into the soft ground as the wind keened.

She stared at it, a shiver creeping along her spine. The shine of the screen lighting up washed over the ground, warming the colour of the sand until it seemed to glow gold. It was a notification from one of her mobile games no doubt, a reminder to collect her daily stamina or coins.

She didn’t care to pry it from the sand, instead watching as grains slipped over the sides of the case, collected over the screen. Fatigue washed over like the gentle lap of the ocean waves, her mind little more than seafoam as she stared and stared at her phone.

What was going on today? Why was she in such a panic? Why could she not quell the overdramatic whir of her thoughts, like a carnival ride that was out of control.

She needed to pull herself together. She needed to settle her mind.

The rational part of her mind told her, over and over, screamed it at her from the corner it had been tucked into. But she barely heard it over the cry of that lonely gull, over the thud thud thud of her heart.

But she didn’t do anything that could be described as rational, most of her thoughts a senseless cacophony that was all too easy to drown in.

She sank to the ground, blinking back the sting of sand, the bite of the wind, the unrelenting burn of her tears. All of it gathered in her lashes, painted the world in strange colours and shades, dewdrop silver over ashy grey, blurring to form something new with each blink.

Gathering her legs to her chest, she pressed her face into her knees, intent on staying there until she could calm her racing heart, until she could quell the ache of tears behind her eyes. She was being absurd, ridiculous, but she couldn’t seem to stop. All she could feel was panic, seeping through her like poison in her veins. With each beat of her heart it spread further, until all she could feel was the cold, oily fear running through her, dripping from her like blood from a wound.

She couldn’t bring herself to pick at the wound, to untangle the knotted feelings hidden beneath the sinew and bone. But thankfully it was then, as she was considering it, as understanding rose like a shadow stretching long at dusk, a muffled buzz sounded from her side.

It was soft, near silent with the cry of the wind and the hush of the waves against the shore. But it was incessant, insistent, refusing to be ignored. She could feel the vibrations of the buzzing through the sand, rattling their way through her bones.

It demanded her attention, a familiar feeling that plucked at the strings of her heart. Some of the pressure behind her eyes faded, the tightness on her chest loosening its hold as she looked to her side, to where her phone had fallen into the sand.

The screen was bright as starlight, notifications from an unknown number flashing on the screen, one after the other, piling over each other so she could not read their messages before the next one appeared.

Her phone flashed again, persistent in its demand for her attention, her phone buzzing harder as the unknown number attempted to call.

She stared at it, let it go to voicemail before slowly plucking her phone from the ground, brushing away the grains of sand as her heart waited, seemed to stop entirely.

Barely a breath went by before the number tried to call again, her phone shaking so fervently in her hand she nearly dropped it again. The reverberations kickstarted her heart, sending its beats into a wild sprint, an erratic rhythm that no melody could follow.

She clicked ‘answer’ without thinking, bringing the phone up to her ear, her bottom lip wobbling as she asked, voice thick with unshed tears, “hello?”

“Where are you?!”

She blinked at the familiar voice, at the image of cerulean touched by carmine eyes, the petulant pout tugging down lips, the creases between brows. “Rafayel?”

“Who else? I thought you’d be at the café but you’re not here! Did you forget again?!”

She sniffled, almost laughing at the absurdity of such an accusation. “What are you talking about? I waited for over an hour and you never showed up!”

A huff sounded, and she could see the way he was wrinkling his nose, the way he was tensing his shoulders. “Well where are you now?”

“I went looking for you! You weren’t at home, so I went to check the beach!”

He groaned. “Alright, just stay there, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

Now she couldn’t help but scoff, the first flicker of anger alighting on her bones like fire taking to kindling. “I’ve been waiting for you for ages. You didn’t answer my texts or my calls. Why are you calling from a different number?”

“I’ll explain everything soon, just stay there.”

The line clicked off before she could argue any further, the phone screen going dark.

For a moment she heard nothing, thought nothing. Just stared at the blank screen, at the ocean waves, at the flecks of white of the gulls circling overhead.

Then slowly, like the rush of the high tide, her mind began to buzz, emotions swelling like seafoam, washing away her anxiety, her fear.

What was left was a tangle of things, a knot that would take her a long while to pick apart. Relief and joy and an unnamed ache, all threatening to overwhelm her, to crash over her like a summer storm, like angry waves against stone.

Beneath them all, annoyance, anger. A pyre catching flame, growing brighter, demanding her attention, prickling her frozen fingers with its heat.

There was no way she was staying put.

She stood quickly, shoving her phone in her pocket, not bothering to brush away the sand that clung to her body as she left the beach. She was resolved not to wait any longer, certain that if she did she would catch fire and turn to ash before Rafayel could appear.

She turned a corner, clutching the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles turned white, chest heavy with that knot of happiness and irritation that had taken root when she’d heard his voice.

It was like a bulb, planted deep in the soft soil of her heart, already beginning to grow, viridescent shoots reaching towards the sky. Eventually it would bloom, petals unfurling towards the sun. But for now it was still growing, not yet ready to unveil itself to her.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling that heavy weight, so focused on the strangeness of it, and on finding Rafayel, that she didn’t even see him. Not until she was running straight into his side.

“Shi-” She was reeling, stumbling to the side, looking up as she careened backwards to meet his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his breath clouding from his lips as his chest heaved. His hair, normally so perfectly styled, was in a disarray, like he’d raked his hands through it once after rolling from bed and deemed that good enough.

Distantly, she thought it looked like he’d been running.

The ground rushed up to meet her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, cutting off the image of a disheveled Rafayel as she prepared for impact.

An impact that never came.

Arms had wrapped around her, steadying her, firm and warm and gentle. They drew her forward, setting her back on her feet, pulling her against a familiar chest.

Only then did she open her eyes, when she knew she wouldn’t be pinned in place by Rafayel’s smug smirk. When she knew he wouldn’t see the relief and joy in her eyes at seeing him, at hearing the frantic beat of his heart, of being wrapped in his warmth.

Not that hiding stopped her from hearing his soft laughter, the click of his tongue as his fingers splayed over the swell of her hips. She was so desperate for his touch, but she absolutely could not let him know it, especially not right now.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

His words, lilting with the promise of laughter. She could see his smile without needing to look up, could feel the twinkle in his eyes like she was standing in fizzing starlight.

Something in her snapped, and she took a step back, crossing her arms as though to shield her aching heart. She tilted her head back, glared up at him, the wind brushing against her cheeks reminding her that her tears hadn’t even fully dried yet.

A part of her wondered if she shouldn’t have kept her head lowered, so he wouldn’t see the evidence of her tears, so he wouldn’t see the red, puffy skin around her eyes. But just as quickly as it came, the thought flitted away.

“Last time I ‘stayed put’ you never showed up!”

A muscle flicked in his jaw and he rolled his eyes, groaning in clear exasperation. Which was fine, since she was exasperated too.

She pretended not to notice how he was still breathing hard, how his ears were turning pink, then vermillion the longer she stared. How his manufactured scowl was faltering as his eyes searched her face.

“Where were you?!” She jabbed a finger against his chest and his brows shot up. “I waited for ages. I was worried sick, I’d thought you’d died, or you’d been kidnapped!”

Her hand trembled and she dropped it, shoved it back against her chest. He made a halfhearted attempt to reach for her, his eyes narrowing, his brows drawing low.

“You made me wait for so long!” Her throat was closing up now, all of her twisted feelings rushing out of her, clogging her throat, bubbling into a sob. Her eyes were burning again, and she blinked furiously, cursing herself silently.

“I texted you! I called! Over and over and you never answered!” She threw her hands up, hoping it would distract him from the wobble in her words. God only knew she couldn’t seem to keep it in check. “You left me waiting for so long and you terrified me! What, and then you call me from an unknown number and tell me to ‘stay put?’ Are you serious?”

He scoffed, his cheeks a messy cerise that reminded her of overripe cherries. “Well, this is your fault too!”

“Oh? How exactly?” She was annoyed, hurt. Her heart tangled into itself, twisting into knots of frustration and anger and pain. He was always chastising her for not being early enough, for always being too late. And now he was pushing the blame onto her? When he’d been the one late? When he’d all but abandoned her?

“You should have come looking for me earlier!” He all but cried, throwing his hands up too. His bottom lip was trembling, on the verge of pulling into a pout.

“No, no.” She pointed to his lips, to his pout, to the wrinkle of his nose. “I’m not falling for that! You are the only one to blame. I texted you, I called you, I went looking for you!”

“Why didn’t you check any museums or galleries? Did you even take a look at the news?”

She blinked, her words stolen from her lips, her mind grinding to a halt. His face was flushed, his hair and clothes a disarray, his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, something she didn’t recognize flickering in their depths.

Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling, as unknowable as the darkest depths of the ocean.

“Are you serious?” Her words came out small, melting in the puff of breath that gathered in the air before her. A contrast so stark from her earlier raised voice it could have been a slap. Tears gathered in her eyes, staining the world in silver, blurring the edges, but she no longer cared if he saw her cry. “Are you actually serious?”

She had spent how long today being utterly terrified for his well being and here he was telling her she hadn’t done enough. Telling her she should have looked for him sooner, should have worked harder to find him.

“I thought we were meeting at the café.” She couldn’t seem to find her strength anymore, wilting beneath his stare. “You’re always early, you’re always telling me I’m late. When you didn’t show I texted you, I called you. I checked your house, I checked the beach. What else was I supposed to do?”

The last of her words came out as little more than a hiss, belied by the crackle of her voice as the sob fought to escape. His expression began to crack beneath their razor sharpness, fractures cutting through his indignation like the shattering of stained glass.

“I went because you wanted to go out.” She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes, taking a step back, refusing to think about the widening of his eyes, the creases in his brow. “You were the one who never showed up, never told me anything.”

There was more she wanted to say, words made of acid that would have surely burned her tongue as she’d given them form. But instead of setting them free, she pressed her lips together, turning away so she did not have to see the hurt on his face, the kicked-puppy pout that usually would have had her falling to her knees as she tried to comfort him.

“I’m suddenly really tired,” she said, staring at the ground, at the stones and remnants of long-dead leaves scattered on the sidewalk. “So I’m going to head home. I’ll talk to you later.”

She took one step, then another, muscles tensing as she forced herself to move, to not look back. If she looked back she would fall apart beneath whatever heartbroken expression he had schooled his face into.

Cold winter air swept into the growing chasm between them, freezing claws scrabbling down her spine, making her shudder. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to quell the shivers, but just as quickly as the whole of winter had descended on her in his absence, warmth enveloped her again.

Rafayel’s hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist and dragging her back. Like a wound stitched close, the space between them vanished, winter making way for spring.

“Rafayel.” She was knocked breathless by the sudden movement, even as a part of her mind told her she should struggle, should shake off his grip.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was firm, kind, the edges melting into regret. “I’m sorry, I took it too far. I didn’t-”

She blinked, watching quietly as he ducked his head, feeling the unsteady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest with every deep breath. Her eyes still burned, and the tears gathered in her lashes caught the light, turning the edges of the world into a silver blur.

When he looked up again his eyes were wide, earnest. She had gotten used to his moods, to the shifts in his eyes, his mouth, a change in how his voice lilted and his eyes danced. But this wasn’t like all those times before, when he would feign distress and hurt, when he would exaggerate his emotions until she caved.

This was different, more like the quiet moments between breaths, when he bared a hidden part of himself to her. When the air grew heavy and quiet, when his voice turned lullaby soft. She always felt tucked close to him, even if there was space between them, like she had nestled herself in his heart, like he had given it to her to make it her home.

His words would be genuine then, no teasing, no jokes. There would be no razor sharp comments, no snarky retorts. Just him, trusting her as he laid down his armour, his mask, vulnerable only to her.

Sometimes he would be sweet, kind, murmuring gentle words that made her heart sing. And others he would look lost, his voice faraway, as though he’d been caught up in an undertow and dragged out to sea.

It felt like that now, his voice steady, ardent. There was a solemnity in his eyes, no flicker of laughter, no glimmer of playfulness to be found. The blue of his eyes darkened, the red fading like flames being doused, drowned.

He wasn’t messing around with her any longer, no hint of that petulant pout or his puppy-dog eyes to be found. His mouth was set, a line forming between his brows as they drew low.

It anchored her to the spot, the tenor of his voice from the beginning of his apology alone, the shift in his countenance as he grew somber.

Rafayel squeezed the hand he’d pressed to his heart, as though he hoped it would prove his sincerity as she felt its rhythm pulse through her bones.

“I didn’t think about how you felt. I was only thinking about myself.” He didn’t look away now, instead holding her gaze fast, leaning closer. “I wanted you to find me and rescue me, but you were the one who needed rescuing.”

When she did not move from him he grew bolder, fingers lacing with hers, head bowing until his bangs tickled her brow. “I’m always asking you to stay, but I was the one who abandoned you. I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She didn’t trust herself to speak right now, not when anger still churned hot as a firestorm, when the last of sourness of worry finally eased and her belly no longer roiled with it, when he was so close her knees felt like jelly and her skin prickled from his breath.

The desire to forgive him spilled through her like champagne bubbling through cracks in crystal. He was so close, so warm, and he smelled so nice, and she hated being angry with him. She wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and close her eyes and breathe in the smell of his cologne. She wanted to tell him he was forgiven and melt into his embrace.

As much as she whined and railed against his unending demands, his last minute day-plans, his surprise visits to her home, she missed him when he wasn’t there. He had become the sun lighting the world each morning, the susurrus of the wind through the trees, the hush of the ocean as it foamed against the beach. She felt like a flower reaching through frozen ground, small and weak, petals still clinging together, but growing stronger beneath golden sunlight, each moment closer and closer to blooming, to filling the world with her colour.

But whatever scraps of rationality remained held her still, reminded her that she could not just forgive him so easily, especially not when he had not yet finished his apology. Her tears were not yet dry on her cheeks, not yet fully spilled. They were still gathered in her lashes, still burning behind her eyes. A headache was beginning to spread from the pressure of it, pulsing against her skull, in her temples.

No, she could not give in to the ache in her heart, yearning so terribly to throw herself into his arms that it felt like it was pushing against the cage of her ribs, fighting against the prison it was trapped in.

She nodded in response to his question, keeping her mouth firmly closed. If she opened it then her resolve would crumble and forgiveness would fall from her tongue, so she said nothing instead.

The lines in his face deepened, and now his eyes did slide down, focused on his shoes, or the pavement, or perhaps on nothing at all. His shoulders slumped, curving inwards. If he were a painting she would have titled him ‘remorse’ for how heavy it hung on him, pressing down on his body like it could break him against the sidewalk. He seemed to fade, amethyst hair fading to lilac, tinging with grey. His eyes dimmed, waning like the moon before it vanished from the night’s sky.

He looked back up slowly, the movements of his eyes shadowed by his other hand, gently coming to rest on her cheek. “I made you cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Well you did.” She snapped, then quickly bit her tongue, before anything more could escape her lips.

His brows rose, drew together. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair, or kind to you at all. This is all my fault, I should have reached out to you sooner.”

Now she was the one looking away, withering beneath his earnest gaze. “You should have. I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped, or hurt somewhere all alone.”

His touch was gentle, the pad of his thumb wiping away the tears on her cheek, gathered in the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you worry, for today, for everything.”

She said nothing, although she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, just a little.

“If you still want to go home, at least let me walk you back.” He spoke softer now, hesitant, something hidden behind his words.

Please still spend time with me, please don’t leave me yet. Please say you want to stay with me.

She mulled it over for a moment, picking apart his words like a necklace chain knotted together. Her heart pressed against her ribs, uncaring that it would be shred by the breaking of her bones. It only wanted him, to be near him, and the aching that built in the cavity of her chest was far too strong for anything else.

She did want to forgive him, and she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to spend the day with him, something she’d been looking forward to when they’d made plans the day before.

Although he wasn’t off the hook quite yet.

She lifted her eyes, finding hope in his gaze as she met it, held it as steady as she could.

“I think I’m feeling a little better,” she said. His eyes widened, hope sparking warmth in them once more. “So I don’t think I want to go home just yet.”

The corners of his mouth curved upwards, the first hint of sunlight cresting over the horizon. “In that case, we could find another café, or a restaurant if you’d like an early dinner.”

She narrowed her eyes, even as the first strains of a melody began in her heart, elation blooming at seeing his smile, at knowing she would be spending the rest of the day with him. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, Rafayel.”

His brow arched. “Rafayel? Not ‘love?’ Not ‘darling?’ Not ‘baby?’”

She arched her brow, tipping her head back, away from the hand that had been cupping her cheek. “I think you have a lot more apologizing to do before you get those privileges back. Rafayel.”

He sighed, shaking his head. Despite the rejection, his lips were still curving up, his smile turning playful. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Mhmmm.” She tried to pull her other hand back, the one still firmly held to his chest, but he held that hand tightly, smirking. “Rafayel, you can let go now.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” He cocked his head to the side, all mischief now. His fingers tightened around hers as he brought her palm up, as he pressed his lips to her palm. “What if I want to keep holding it?”

She huffed, ignoring the heat in her cheeks as his teeth scraped against her hand, as his tongue flicked over the spots where he’d nipped.

Rafayel, however, did not ignore it, and she knew it as she felt his smile grow wider.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She’d meant to grind out the words, to sound annoyed, but it came out softer, quivering as the warmth from his lips made its way through her veins, coiled low in her belly.

He chuckled, lowering her hand from her lips, although he did not let go. His fingers remained twined with hers, keeping her close. “What do you think? I’m making it up to you.”

“You can’t just-” Her voice cracked, squeaked, and she bit her tongue as his brows rose high, delight dancing like firelight in his eyes. “You can’t just kiss my hand and expect things to be alright!”

She sped through her words, stumbling in her haste to speak as her voice wobbled and cracked, uneven and weak from his lips, from the heat blooming in her core and the feeling of her body slowly turning to jelly.

For his part, Rafayel did not tease, although his expression told her that he had taken everything into account; her rushed words, her crackling voice, her flushed face, all of it noted by his keen eyes.

“That’s only the first part,” he said, sounding on the verge of laughter. “I promise I’ll make things better.” Then his voice softened, a delicate caress to her traitorous heart. “Just let me keep holding your hand.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. She had to look away so he wouldn’t see the colour deepen in her cheeks, not as the heat flared, bonfire bright, beneath her skin. She was certain that if she looked up she would combust, leaving nothing but ash on the sidewalk.

Rafayel seemed to find her answer satisfactory, as he murmured a delighted “let’s go” before tugging her forward.

Her curiosity got the better of her as he continued to beam, and she tapped his side as they walked. “Where are we going?”

“Well we had made plans to go to a café, and there’s a new one not far from here I’ve been meaning to visit.”

She let him drag her along, tucking her hand into his jacket pocket when the wind whistled past them and shivers arced across her like lightning. She was still annoyed, but she wouldn’t deny the joy that spread rosy fingers like the blushing of dawn through her heart, or the warmth that blanketed her as he kept her close. He was here, he was safe, he was smiling.

She would have to blame the wind for her ruddy cheeks, for how difficult it was to catch her breath.

And thankfully, Rafayel did not comment on it, although his eyes did brighten, round shimmering pools of light assessing the colour in her face, the breathless gasps from her lips.

“Not much further,” he said, his lips caught in a pleased smirk.

She rolled her eyes, deciding it best not to comment. Surely whatever she said he would find a way to twist, to use as a weapon to tease her with.

But this too, was enough for him. “What’s wrong? Too cold to speak?” His smirk only widened, a sharp slice across his lips as one brow quirked high. “We’re almost there, but do you need me to warm you? Would it count as part of my penance?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before tugging her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. He ducked his head, lips grazing the shell of her ear, and shivers cascaded down her spine, having nothing to do with the cold wind.

“Although,” he breathed, sending goosebumps across her skin. “I don’t particularly mind. If you need me to do things like this then I think I’ll enjoy this very much.”

“Things like this?” He was being awfully brazen considering the circumstances.

He drew back, beaming, looking far too smug. “Like snuggling.”

She yanked her hand from his pocket, pinching his side. “Watch it!”

He yelped, but only tried to draw her closer, like her presence was a comfort, a balm to the sharp pain she’d inflicted on him.

She struggled against his hold, if only slightly. She was far too besotted to truly fight to escape his arms.

“Don’t be like that,” he whined, lips pulling into a pout. “I’m cold too, you know. Just because you’re mad doesn’t mean we both have to be punished.”

Huffing, she crossed her arms, refusing to tuck herself so closely against him. But she also didn’t untangle herself from him entirely, either. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not that cold.”

“You don’t have to lie.” He laughed, pulling her closer. “You’re shivering, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

He clicked his tongue. Something strange flitted in his eyes, but it was gone in a breath, no more than a shadow flickering over him as they walked. “You can be such a princess about things.”

“Oh? And what about it?”

“Whatever pleases you, your highness.” He bowed his head, smirking. His bangs fell over his eyes so she could not see them, but she could feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of it. “I am but your humble servant.”

She couldn’t help giggling then, covering her mouth as she snorted. “Come on Rafayel, stand up, you’re going to run into someone.”

“Only at your highness’ command.” He tipped his head to the side, and she caught sight of the glitter in his eyes, twin pools shining as brightly as sunlight caught in diamonds.

“Rafayel!” There was no stopping the snorts now as she grabbed his arm with both hands, tugging him to the side before he ran straight into a streetlamp. “You’re going to get hurt!”

His lips lifted higher, creases forming around his eyes. “If that’s what you wish, your highness.”

She had to look away, pressing her lips together in a vain attempt to stifle her laughter. “What I want is for you to stand up so you don’t get hurt!”

“Your highness is most benevolent.” He straightened, mischief alight like flames in his eyes, his smile. He looked so boyish, so delighted, that she wanted to squish the apples of his cheeks beneath her palms.

“Well, we’ll see,” she said, barely able to contain the urge to squeeze his face. She was pretty sure if she gave in then he would win.

Win what she wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling. It was one of her favourite things to do, squeezing his cheeks when she was overwhelmed with joy at seeing his face. If she did it now he would undoubtedly take it as being forgiven entirely, and so she could not.

As she was musing to herself, his arm remained securely around her, slowly bringing her closer and closer until their sides pressed together. She made no comment, allowing them both this, and as he guided her through the doorway of the café, regret twinged in her heart.

She would have been content to walk next to him for hours, and she wished the café had been further away, so she could have remained close to him for a while longer.

Rafayel brought her to a spot in the corner of the cozy space, a small window just above it, honey-warm sunlight pouring over the tabletop. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs for her, gesturing for her to sit.

“For you, my lady.” He was clearly enjoying himself.

She made to pinch him again, but he was quick, anticipating the attack. He snatched her wrist, lifting it up as he grinned wider. “I’m trying to be so good, so why can’t you behave yourself?”

Now she was the one pouting, trying to wiggle her hand from his grasp. “You’re teasing me.”

“Oh? How?” He schooled his expression into one of innocence, his eyes widening until they were saucer-round. All of it was belied by the twitch of his lips, his devious smile too strong to be smothered behind a mask. “I’m just trying to be helpful, your highness. I’m pretty sure princesses don’t pull out their own chairs.”

She tried to pinch him with her free hand, but he caught that one too, his faux innocence falling away. He smiled, all devilish delight, his eyes bright even as they narrowed. He tugged her closer, his breath ghosting over her lips as he lowered his head.

“Nice try,” he sang, bringing her hands to his lips, brushing a kiss against the back of each. “Now why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you a treat, okay?”

He spoke in a sing-song cadence, like he was barely holding back laughter. But there was something underneath his words, and she found herself sitting when he released her, glowering at his grin.

“I won’t keep you waiting long,” he said, squeezing her shoulder before turning to go.

He paused then, turning back around, his expression a fragment more serious.

“One more thing.” He slid his jacket from his arms, draping it over her before she could ask what he was doing.

With a satisfied nod, he gave her one last smile before heading to the counter to make their orders.

She felt impatient, restless, as she watched him from across the café. Part of her worried that she would blink and he would vanish, gone once more. But he remained where she could see him, an anchor keeping her steady in a storm.

“Did something catch your eye?” He asked as he returned to the table, setting a plate in front of her, a slice of cake with a deep red strawberry balanced on top and a chocolate cookie bigger than her hand.

“What’s this?” She asked, ignoring his knowing smirk. “Two whole sweets for me?”

He nodded, reaching out to brush her hair back from her face. “As part of my apology.”

“You’re going to have to do more than that to make up for today,” she said, even as she took the fork he handed her. “But it’s a start.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “As you wish, your highness.”

“You’ve got to stop with the ‘your highness’ thing,” she said, heat beginning to spread across her face anew. It felt a little silly, something strange and intimate to be called it so loudly in public.

He cocked his head to the side, contemplative as he watched her. “You don’t like it?”

He almost sounded a little sad, and her heart twinged again.

Her heart was a traitorous thing, summoning words that tumbled free from her lips before she could give them thought, trying to wipe away the sadness she had heard.

“No that’s not it,” she said, stumbling over her words. “It just-”

Her breath caught as he gripped the back of her chair with one hand, leaning closer with that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face. “Oh? Then what is it?”

“It… It’s…” She swallowed, trying to look away. But he was everywhere, so close that he became her whole world. Everywhere she looked was Rafayel and his smile and his bright eyes. “It just feels like you’re teasing me with it, you know? Like you’re making fun of me.”

“Would it be so bad if I was?” His voice lowered, a warm tenor that had her toes curling, sending butterfly wings flitting through her stomach. “You’ve been so unforgiving, can’t I tease my princess a little?”

“Rafayel-” She didn’t get a chance to finish her thought before he was pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and hurrying away, calling to her about fetching their drinks while her brain shut down like an aging computer.

She couldn’t seem to get herself to think, her brain still buffering when he returned with the drinks. The click of a mug settled before her drew her from the fog he had cast over her, if only slightly.

“There were a lot of drinks I thought you’d like, but I think you’ll like this one best,” he said, seeming entirely unfazed by his surprise attack.

Wasn’t he supposed to be making things up to her? What did teasing her have anything to do with making up for abandoning her earlier?

She continued to stare, scrabbling to find even a single thought. Her skin where his lips had touched burned, still warm from his touch, and all she could smell was his cologne and the faint touch of his soap. She could feel the tickle of his hair against her face, the curl of his breath against her lips.

It was all far too much for her. She would surely melt into a puddle, her body giving way to the heat he had kindled in her.

For his part, Rafayel seemed entirely unperturbed, although she was much too flustered to notice the crimson that had flared on the tips of his ears and dusted along his cheeks. He gave her an encouraging smile, nodding with his head towards her mug. “Well? Try it, tell me what you think.”

She blinked, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ as her hands wrapped around the mug. She brought it to her lips, warm sweetness blooming on her tongue. Sweet, delicious, with a touch of floral notes beneath it.

She took another sip before she set the mug back down, a comforting warmth spreading through her chest, reaching along her arms and into her fingertips.

“It’s very good,” she said, smiling up at him, lost for a moment in the bliss of a warm drink and sweet treats and him across from her.

His own drink remained untouched, although his hands wrapped around it, lithe fingers drumming against the porcelain. “I’m glad you like it. Perhaps this means I’m one step closer to forgiveness.”

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip. It really was good, and although she was not planning to admit it yet, he really was a step closer to being forgiven.

Already was, if she was honest, but she was going to milk this for a while yet.

“Alright, you’ve bought me food, and a warm drink. Now I want to know what happened.”

He opened his mouth, breathing in as if preparing to launch into his tale, but she held her hand up to quiet him before he could.

“And I want the truth, Rafayel.” No melodrama, no embellishing.

“Alright, alright.” He lifted his hands, palms towards her, in surrender. “I won’t paint myself as a hero who boldly rescued a child from a wanderer attack.”

Her heart stopped. “Was there a wanderer?”

Panic must have shown on her face, because he shook his head quickly, his smile only slightly teasing. “No, nothing like that.”

“You’re awful,” she huffed, staring out the window, focusing on the remains of what was surely a very pretty garden in the spring and summer. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Is it my fault you believed me?” He reached out to poke her, earning a scowl that had him laughing. “I did say I won’t paint myself as a hero.”

She didn’t respond, staunchly staring out the window, refusing to meet his gaze.

The sound of his chair squeaking as he sighed, drew her attention, and she peeked from the corner of her eye to see him slouching, the pad of one finger running along the rim of his mug. “I got a call from Thomas earlier today, there was a gallery featuring some of my work, and a number of ‘fans’ were insistent on speaking with me themselves.”

It was the way he rolled his eyes when he said “fans” that told her exactly what kind of event this was, exactly the sort of people in attendance.

It was the type of thing he loathed the most, and no doubt these “fans” were wealthy art collectors who waxed on about his paintings without knowing a thing about them.

She turned back towards him, dropping her veneer of irritation. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come with you.”

He shrugged, looping two fingers around the handle of the mug, twisting it back and forth on the surface of the table. “I thought I would just go and answer a few questions then pretend I got a phone call and leave. I didn’t want to drag you into it today.” He flicked his eyes up, mischievous. “You’re always running late, so I didn’t want to distract you and make you ever more late.”

“I’m not late,” she snapped. “It’s just that you’re always early, and you’re so impatient.”

“Me? Impatient.” He snorted, lifting his mug to his lips, his eyes watching her over the rim. “I’m the epitome of patient. It’s a virtue, you know.”

“Exactly,” she deadpanned. “You’re not exactly a paragon of virtue, Rafayel.”

He groaned, although it was undercut by the twitching of his lips as he set his mug to the side. “I know you’re mad, but don’t you think you can hold off on disparaging my character?”

She pressed her lips together to stifle her smile, nodding at him to continue. “I’m sorry. Please go on.”

“Thank you.” He huffed, taking a quick sip of his drink. “Anyways, as I was saying. I didn’t want to distract you, and I thought I could handle it myself.”

As it happened, it was not something he had been able to handle on his own.

She listened as he explained what had happened, about how he had walked straight into a lion’s den of overzealous critics and collectors alike. How he had been inundated with their questions and demands like they were a flood, a storm that had torn him from his feet, left him dizzy and disoriented.

She broke off pieces of her cookie as he talked, passing him pieces as he told her how there had been no clocks in the gallery, and each time he had reached for his phone someone had very nearly grabbed him to try and redirect his attention.

“The third time it happened it fell right out of my hand.” He shifted, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

Or rather, what was left of it.

The screen was cracked, near shattered, showing bars of colour, like the rainbow glow of oil over water. She could see the back of the phone was in just as poor a condition, pieces of the hardware hanging on for dear life.

“And then someone stepped on it,” he continued as she gaped at the remains of his phone. He rolled his eyes, plucking it from the table and tucking it back into his pocket. “Not that the person who stepped on it offered to buy me a new one, either.”

She handed him the last piece of her cookie, thinking that was the end of things.

“And then there was a robbery.”

She coughed, having only just taken the first bite of her cake. It tasted like ash, clogging in her throat as she gaped, eyes bulging from their sockets.

“Hey, don’t choke to death.” He passed her mug to her, and she drank quickly, dislodging the cake.

“Thank you,” she managed, covering her mouth, embarrassment making her face hot and scratchy.

Rafayel nodded, quiet as he scanned her face. His tone had been light when he’d passed her drink to her, his expression casual. But now that she could breathe she could see the flicker of worry in his eyes, the lines etching around his mouth and into his brow as he confirmed she was alright.

She cleared her throat, pointing at him with her fork. “So there was a robbery?”

He blinked, caught off guard as he stumbled through his words. “Yeah-yeah, right. Alarms started going off, and at first we thought it was a fire.”

Evidently it had not been a fire, as he regaled her with all the details. Of the critics and collectors panicking, a stampede of the exceptionally wealthy clawing at each other to escape. Of Rafayel noticing one of the visitors acting strangely, slipping further into the gallery while everyone else desperately tried to escape.

Contrary to his earlier promise, Rafayel did paint himself as a hero, catching the robbers and incapacitating them until the police arrived. But when she pulled out her own phone to validate his story, she saw several articles already detailing how the renowned artist Rafayel had saved an entire gallery and its patrons from the thieves.

For that she offered him a bite of her cake, and he accepted it with a grin, the tips of his ears darkening to crimson.

By the time he was done his story, her coffee had long-since been finished, nothing but dregs at the bottom of the mug, and there was only one piece of cake remaining on her plate.

“So what you’re saying is…” She trailed off, slicing that final piece of cake in two, spearing a piece and lifting it into the air. “That from now on you’re always going to call me before you go to any event like this, right?”

“Obviously.” He eyed the piece of cake on her fork. “I don’t know what I was thinking, not bringing you with me. I need my bodyguard to keep me safe.”

She extended her arm, offering him the cake. “I think I would much rather you call me to accompany you somewhere like that then be worried you’ve been hurt, or worse.”

Icing smudged at the corner of his lip as he accepted the final bite, a brow quirking while he chewed. He said nothing, but it was enough to make her face flame, and she quickly took the last bite, staring out the window so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

“Hey.”

Reluctantly, she turned. When she met his eyes her heart stumbled, fell, like she had been pushed from a cliff’s edge. His eyes were earnest, sad, and when he reached out to cover her hand, she twisted her fingers through his, holding tight like they were both caught in a storm.

“I really am sorry.” He squeezed her hand, leaning forward. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. The last thing I want to do is make you cry.” His brow arched then, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. “At least, not for that reason.”

“Rafayel.” A firestorm raged beneath her skin and she yanked her hand away like she’d been scalded. She tucked it against her side as she crossed her arms, slumping in her seat. “You are unbelievable.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning forward on the table. “I’m glad you think so.”

When she frowned he only laughed harder, head bowed over as his shoulders shook.

She would be lying if she said the urge to laugh along with him didn’t rise in her, bubbling like fizzing wine gone straight to her head. All of her anxieties and fears gone, Rafayel safe in front of her, the taste of sugar on her tongue, the icing smeared on the corner of his lip.

All of it was so mundane, so simple, and yet it felt like something from a dream, like a scene in a fairytale when the hero realized they were falling in love.

The thought made her stomach twist, her heart beating hummingbird quick. She was thankful that he was looking down, that he wouldn’t see the thought flashing across her face before she could school her expression into one of annoyance again.

After a few moments his laughter began to ebb, like the tide being drawn back out to sea. He straightened, revealing flushed cheeks the colour of dawn, eyes bright as stars wrought of sapphire and ruby. His smile still lingered, although it was softer now.

“Sorry,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “Probably not the best time for a joke like that.”

Normally she would have responded with a sharp rejoinder, making her next strike in the unending clash of their words. She teased him and he responded in kind, he made a sharp comment and her response was sharp as steel.

But she was still half-lost to the fairytale feeling from before, his laughter echoing through her. She could feel it in the hollows of her bones, the sound guiding her through the fog in her mind.

She held his gaze, although her mind strayed as it took note of his ruffled hair, too far gone to think of something sharp and clever to say to him. It was still a mess from earlier, when she’d run into him. It stood up at awkward angles, and his bangs had fallen strangely over his brow, and his cowlick seemed more prominent as hair flicked upwards around it.

“Rafayel,” she said, putting her weight on her forearm as she rested it against the table, leaning closer. “Stay still for a second.”

His eyes widened, his face the colour of cerise, of spilled cherry juice staining fingertips. She could feel his breath, soft and warm, curling against her wrist as she carefully shifted his hair, smoothing his bangs over his brow, brushing back the errant strands sticking up strangely.

He didn’t move, tracking her movements with his eyes. His breath seemed to catch, stutter, fanning over her skin as he tried to steady himself.

It all took less than five minutes, his hair returned to its usual state of looking roguishly tousled while being perfectly styled.

She gave one final nod of approval, appraising her work, tucking one final strand of hair behind his ear.

“There we go,” she said, nodding to herself. “All better now.”

Lightning quick, just as she began to pull away, to sit back in her chair, Rafayel reached for her wrist, catching it and drawing it back to the side of his face.

She gasped, lurching forward at the suddenness of it all. “Rafayel? What’s wrong?”

Only then did she meet his eyes, his expression making her breath catch. His eyes, wide and glassy, his breath, coming out in short gasps, his face, a mess of crimson and scarlet and vermillion like he’d been splattered by his own paints.

He brought her hand to his cheek, her skin tingling as his breath ghosted against her palm, the inside of her wrist. Her gaze fell to his lips, so close they could kiss her if he wanted to.

He didn’t answer, sighing instead, sending goosebumps racing along her arm. He leaned his face into her palm, settling against her cupped hand so perfectly it felt like fate, like he had been made to be held in her hands.

Lungs constricting, unable to draw in air, she felt dizzy, the world softening until it was nothing more than static. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut, felt his lashes tickle her palm. Again, he sighed, and it sounded strange, so much yearning and contentment in the quiet hush of his voice that pain radiated through her, like her heart had finally broken free from the cage of her ribs and had let itself be torn to pieces in the process.

When his eyes opened once again they flicked up, searching for her, watching her. There was so much need and desperation in his gaze, like he had longed for her touch, needed it. Like he needed her to breathe.

She wanted to say his name again, wanted to cup his face with both hands and let him rest. She wanted to hold him to her chest and run her fingers through his hair, ruining her hard work, all so the melancholy in his eyes would melt away. She wanted nothing but happiness in his eyes, his heart, wanted to hold him close until whatever ache in him was gone.

He had upset her so terribly, and yet she wanted nothing more than to keep him close, to hold him, to cradle him against her heart so he was safe and content.

Yet no words rose to her tongue, remaining buried deep as she watched him, as he watched her in kind. She wanted to tell him all these things, the seeds that were planted in her heart.

But how could she? What words could she use to explain it all?

Her lips parted, yet nothing but air passed between them, quiet as the murmuration of wind through branches still waiting for their leaves.

His brows hiked higher, creases forming around his eyes as they crinkled. He was smiling, she was sure of it, but it was soft as the light at dawn, as feather down. Soft as blankets wrapped around her shoulders in the cool air of the morning, as the feel of his lips on her cheek when she was only half-awake.

It was blurry and hazed, softened like memories half-remembered and cradled in her heart. She would have liked to see that smile again, to summon it on quiet days and shadowed nights, to make his eyes dance as his lips curved like the first touch of the sun over the horizon.

“Baby?” His voice was sweet as honey, as spun sugar melting on her tongue. It was a sigh like a spring breeze, like the wind dancing across the ocean.

“Hmm?” She smoothed back his bangs again with her free hand as they flopped forward, obscuring his eyes. She wanted to see them, wanted to lose herself in their depths.

He nuzzled her palm again, letting out another sigh before brushing his lips against her skin. His eyes closed halfway, seemed to darken as he kept them fixed on hers.

It wasn’t until his eyes opened wide again, his cheek settling in the curve of her palm, that he spoke, his breath curling against her skin.

“Am I forgiven?”

And with that the spell he had cast was broken, although the buzz of warmth in her heart remained, like sunshine itself had begun to bloom in her.

She dropped the hand that had been fixing his hair, the other still captive in his grip. He was still smiling, though it was sharper now, the beginnings of a smirk peeking through.

It made her want to tell him no, to give him a cool glare that could freeze the ocean over. He looked smug, so satisfied with himself for enchanting her so easily with his lips and his breath and his pretty eyes.

Her heart was a traitor, making it impossible to hold out against him. And the worst was that he knew it, too.

And yet even knowing how her own heart was betraying her, crumbling her resolve, even knowing that Rafayel was trying to toy with her, she could not find it in herself to be cold, to be sharp.

Maybe it was from the dredges of warmth that remained, or perhaps it was because she really had forgiven him, because she couldn’t find it in herself to continue being annoyed. The desire to be petulant, to playact indignation, shrivelled like leaves cut loose from their tree, flung far from the roots.

Although she wanted to tease him a while longer, if only as vengeance for all the times he’d teased her.

She hummed, lifting her free hand once more, stroking his cheek as he watched her. His eyes were bright, confident that he had been well and truly forgiven after a few desserts and playful kisses.

So when she pinched his cheek she watched as shock took over, like a tidal wave washing against the shore. Pink stained his cheeks, then crimson, his face a mess of colour. His lips fell open, in surprise at first, then quickly recovering so he was pouting once more.

“You’re almost forgiven,” she said, giving his cheek one last tug before letting go, smoothing the tips of her fingers over the spot that was the darkest red.

“Almost?” He sounded almost amused, undercutting his sweet pout.

“Almost,” she repeated. His grip loosened on her hand and she was finally able to pull away, settling in her seat once more. “In fact, I might just forgive you by the end of the day.”

He huffed, lowering his head until she could hardly see his eyes from beneath the curtain of his bangs. “After everything I’ve gone through today, you’re still being mean to me?”

“I’m not being mean!” She crossed her arms, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “I just think you’ll have to work a little bit harder for my forgiveness.”

He flopped back, throwing an arm over his face as he sighed, all melodrama and histrionics. “You’re as bad as those art collectors, trying to work me to the bone.”

Now she really had to focus to stop herself from laughing, especially as he peaked from beneath his arm, trying to gauge her reaction. “Nothing will be enough for you, will it?”

“That depends!” She reached for her empty cup, hoping to hide her smile behind the rim as she feigned taking a sip.

“Human greed is boundless,” he whined, managing to fall back even more. His head was practically hanging from the back of the chair, giving the impression of a ragdoll tossed aside. “What will you have me do? Will you make me cry and steal the pearls? Will you make me tear my scales off as penance?”

“Rafayel.” She really couldn’t help laughing at his theatrics, leaning across the table to reach for his hand. “Rafayel, please look at me.”

He straightened, if only slightly, fixing a sulky glare on her from beneath the shadow of his arm.

“Haven’t you had enough of me?” His bottom lip began quivering, the perfect picture of abject misery.

In another life he would have made an amazing actor. She could see him on a stage, wailing in agony as orchestral music swelled.

The image brought a smile to her face and she had to stifle it quickly, lest he use it against her.

His cheeks puffed out as he continued to glower at her, as surely as a toddler’s on the cusp of a tantrum, crocodile tears shining at the corners of his eyes.

He didn’t pull away as she leaned further forward, her stomach practically flush with the tabletop as she finally took one of his hands. “Nothing so severe, baby.”

He perked up, arm sliding away from his face, fingers twining with hers as he sat up straight.

She hadn’t just called him Rafayel, but baby; her love, her darling, her heart.

A step closer to forgiveness.

Still, he kept up his gloomy expression, very little needed to bring the tears back into his eyes. She imagined needing only a small gust of wind ruining his hair, or perhaps a splatter of coffee staining his sleeve, to bring his tears back to the forefront, to make him dissolve into a near tantrum again.

His nose scrunched, eyes narrowed, but his hand remained firmly wrapped in hers. “What were you thinking, then?”

“I want to go to the arcade,” she said, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand in small circles. “I want you to win me some new plushies.”

The corners of his lips twitched, the lines in his face smoothing away. “So you want me to earn your forgiveness by going on a date with you?”

“No.” She answered too quickly, too sharp, and she watched with her heart thudding like a stampede and her stomach tumbling over and over itself, as Rafayel’s lips curved upwards, smug and adorable, infuriating and precious all at the same time.

She cleared her throat, pulling back so at least she was sitting, so at least she looked a little less desperate. “No, I want you to prove yourself! Through battle!”

“Against the claw machines?” He was the one leaning forward now, drawn towards her by their connected hands.

“Yes.” His eyes were bright as starlight across water, his voice lilting like a melody. “And I want you to pay for everything. To make up for the emotional damages from earlier.”

He laughed, warm and bright, sunshine washing over her face, birdsong and flower petals in the wind. He was spring, thawing the last of winter from her heart. “I didn’t realize my absence would cause such distress.”

Now she was glowering, relaxing her grip and trying to free her hand from his.

But Rafayel was fast, and strong, and he held onto her tightly, leaning even further over the table, her hand captive in his. “Don’t be like that. Your face is going to get stuck like that if you keep frowning, you know.”

She did not stop frowning.

He pouted, bringing her hand to his face, rubbing his cheek against her fingertips. “Aw, come on, sweetheart, don’t I get to see your smile?”

She furrowed her brows as deeply as she could, wrinkled her own nose. “Win me some plushies first.”

He brought her fingers to his lips, lips brushing against them as he spoke. “As you wish, your highness.”

Like fire to kindling, she erupted in heat, any strength she’d had in her limbs vanishing. She could not even hold onto her glare, and she felt as her face relaxed, as a nervous giggle escaped her lips.

Brows rising, Rafayel’s eyes tracked the shift in her face. She would have pulled away from him to avoid any teasing, had she the strength to do so anymore, but she was caught as surely as a fish in a net.

He refused to let go as he stood, dragging her to her feet with him. “Shall we? I know some pretty good arcades around here.”

She couldn’t argue with him, letting him tug her like a ragdoll from the café, a pleased smirk plastered to his face.

“You know you probably shouldn’t look so smug,” she said once the cold winter air against her face, snapping her back to her senses. “Considering you’re supposed to be doing this as an apology.”

All he did was shrug, his smile widening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Rafayel, you’re literally smiling right now.”

At that he frowned. “Am I not your baby anymore?”

“You sure are acting like a baby,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“What was that?” He leaned closer, a roguish light entering his eyes.

It was so sudden that she took a step away, her face burning despite the cold air caressing her cheeks. “Oh nothing.”

He hummed, not believing her in the least, but he continued on his way, that self-satisfied smile returning to his lips quickly.

She rolled her eyes again, pinching his side. “But really, you shouldn’t look so happy about having to make up for abandoning me this morning.”

“I didn’t abandon you,” he retorted, his voice rising an octave. “And anyways, can’t I be happy that you still want to spend time with me?”

“It’s not a date.” He hadn’t said it was, but she felt the need to make it clear. If not to him then to her own heart, which hadn’t stopped fluttering as furiously as hummingbird wings. “You’re making it up to me.”

He gave her hand a squeeze as he tilted his head back, regarding her from the corners of his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

At the spread of his smile she cursed, looking away. She really had to stop answering so quickly, so sharply. She was giving herself away.

Thankfully, perhaps because he knew he did have much to make up for, Rafayel let it drop, although he hummed an upbeat melody as they walked, his pleased smile never leaving his face.

A blast of warmth greeted them as they stopped in front of one of her favourite arcades, the door thrown wide from a gaggle of teenagers leaving with their spoils.

Rafayel snagged the door with his free hand, releasing her only to press his hand to the small of her back, ushering her inside ahead of him. “After you, your highness.”

“I’m going to make you buy me a tiara at this rate,” she grumbled, hurrying inside so Rafayel could follow.

He clicked his tongue, taking her hand again and heading down the aisles of games, searching for the claw machines. “If you want a tiara, I’d rather make you one myself. None of the others would be good enough.”

She quirked a brow. “Since when do you know how to make tiaras? Did you learn metalworking in another life?”

His grin was wide, toothy, the points of his incisors looking sharp in the light. “I’m a man of many talents.”

She squeezed his hand, swinging it gently. “Really? What else can you do?”

“Why? Planning to make some demands?” There was laughter in his voice, a musical tone that made it lilt, but there was nothing but soft warmth beneath it. There was no sharpness, no sarcasm. As though if she really did make a request, he would put everything on hold just to make it for her.

She wouldn’t call what she felt in her belly butterflies, not exactly. The wingbeats too quick, soft and ticklish instead of the gauziness of the butterflies. But she felt it all the same, both nerves and excitement stitching themselves into the framework of her body, her DNA. It summoned pinpricks of light, of heat. Seedlings that would bloom into stars in her heart, a garden of light unfurling behind her ribs, in her veins.

Without realizing it, she clung to him all the tighter, her other hand coming around to hold his hand, so it was sandwiched between both of hers.

“Well I want to know what your other skills are before I put in any requests,” she said, as lightheaded as when she stepped off carnival rides.

“There’s very little I can’t do,” he preened. His eyes closed, his smile smug as a lazy cat’s. “Just ask, and I’ll make it for you.”

“Hmm…” Just ask, and he’d make anything for her?

He arched his brow as she mulled over her options, over what she could ask him to make. He only shot her a curious glance as he bought tokens for the claw machines, shaking the basket of the little gold coins to draw her attention.

“Well?” He asked, swinging their joined hands again.

“Well what?”

Rafayel rolled his eyes, shaking the basket over her head so the rattling of the coins cascaded over her like ocean waves. “Well, do you know what you want me to make? A painting of your favourite landscape? A sculpture in your likeness? Or maybe in mine, so you can see me even when I’m not around?”

That earned him a pinch, and he laughed, knocking the basket against the top of her head. “On second thought, I think a tiara would be the best fit for a princess such as yourself.”

She scoffed, trying to pull away only to be reeled close again as he stopped in front of one of the machines. “If you’re going to make me a tiara then you’d better make yourself a matching one.”

One brow arched high on his forehead, half hidden by his bangs as he lowered his head. He chuckled, soft and breathy, his eyes slowly finding hers as he turned.

She saw the laughter in them, dancing like firelight across a lake. She saw the sharp curve of his smile, the promise of mischief in the creases around his lips, in the corners of his eyes. She heard the barely contained laughter in his voice, the heat of his breath as he lifted her hand to his lips, as he kissed it slowly, smirking all the while.

What she did not notice, too lost in his eyes and his smile and the unfurling of gossamer wings in her belly, was the red creeping across his face. The delicate flush of coral that deepened to messy crimson, cerise like spilled cherries, burning scarlet like a wildfire catching.

Nor did she notice the quiver in his voice, not from suppressed laughter but from his own nerves, from how his own knees felt weak, from how he would have liked nothing more than to fall into her arms and stay there after the day he’d had.

But instead he remained standing tall, and she did not notice the mess of reds and pinks mottling his complexion, her own face flushing the colour of dusk from the leisurely way he kissed her hand.

“What are you doing?” Her own voice squeaked, cracking from the jump in pitch as he kissed her knuckles next.

“Thinking,” he muttered, not looking at all like he was thinking in the least.

“About?” Nervous laughter escaped her lips, her mind a frenzy of flitting wings and flowers blooming with fuzzy warmth, all of it cacophony clouding her thoughts.

“About how you asked me to make matching crowns,” he said, his words curling against the skin of her hand.

“I was only teasing, you know-”

“And it made me wonder,” he cut her off, his grin as bright as the sunrise. “Does that make me your prince?”

“I- No, I-” Too flustered by his smirk and his teasing, all she could do was sputter as a pyre caught flame on her bones. She was hot, burning, her skin deep reds and blushing pinks all while Rafayel continued to smirk, so smug and pleased with himself.

She didn’t even have the forethought to try and wrench her hand free from his grasp, instead scowling at him as her thoughts ground to a halt.

“Oh?” He leaned closer, still holding her captive. “Was I right? Does your highness see me as her prince?”

“I’ll bite you,” she grumbled, sorely tempted as she eyed his arm.

His grin widened, all teeth and devilry. “Well I’m not much of an exhibitionist, but I could be convinced.”

Lungs constricting, breath catching in her throat, she felt dizzy, the world spinning round and round as the flames beneath her skin threatened to consume her whole. She was so dumbfounded by his comment that she didn’t think to notice the burning colour in his own cheeks and ears, the colour reaching beneath the collar of his shirt.

Rafayel himself wondered if he was losing control of his evol, but surely he would be feeling pain were that the case, the flames burning him until nothing remained.

This was a pleasant warmth, that loosened the tension he often carried, that softened his worries until he could not remember what they were. It flooded his mind like the tide washing the shore clean, nothing but her left in its wake.

There was nothing but her. Only her.

He would say anything to make her blush, to make her smile. He would do anything at all if she asked it of him.

All of it was so clearly painted across his face, in the burning maroon and the sweet cherry and the soft rose splattered over his cheeks and ears and neck. Had her mind not been lost, dragged by the undertow of her own feelings, she surely would have noticed, would have understood what he could not say.

But she was flustered, overwhelmingly so, and she feared she would collapse if she held his gaze a moment longer. Her muscles unravelling, her bones turning to jelly, no support left to keep her on her feet.

Despite it all, she found the strength to wriggle from his grasp, using her newfound freedom to wave at the claw machine. “You have to win me something.”

Beside her, Rafayel hummed, shifting to face the claw machine. “Which one do you want?”

She peered into the glass case at the piles of plushies, the small reprieve allowing her heart to slow, her body to cool. There were so many she wanted that she could hardly pick, little plush ducks and fish, foxes and cacti.

“I want all of them,” she announced. “I think receiving all of them would be a good penance.”

“Alright then, all these cuties for my cutie.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. Rafayel grinned at her, his most charming, confident grin. “And you can just stand here and cheer me on.”

About ten minutes later it was clear Rafayel would need more than a personal cheerleader to manage to win anything today.

She winced, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her smile as another plushie slipped from the prongs of the claw, tumbling over a mountain of plush and rolling until it hit the side of the case.

Rafayel groaned, shaking his head. “This thing must be rigged. Someone needs to tell these plushies that they have to come home with us.”

“Can I try?” She leaned against him, perching her head against his shoulder. He looked on the verge of telling her no, and so she fluttered her lashes, popped out her bottom lip. “Please, Rafayel?”

He relinquished his control with a sigh, shaking his head. “My hands were getting tired, anyways.”

“Hopefully not too tired.” She popped a token into the machine, lights flashing and sound whirring as the claw came to life again. “I’m going to need you to carry all the plushies I’m about to win.”

He rolled his eyes. “This one seems rigged, I don’t know if anyone would be able to get anything from it.”

Twenty minutes later, and she had to hide her smirk behind the plushie she retrieved from the machine, a sunshine-yellow duck with a little beret.

She lifted it to her face, pressing its head over her mouth, hoping her eyes did not betray her laughter as Rafayel glowered at her from around the growing pile of plushies in his arms.

“I thought you wanted me to win you all the plushies,” he said, his voice edging close to a whine. “But all I’m doing is holding them.”

“Well you weren’t having any luck, so I wanted to try.” She managed to get ahold of her smile, if only barely. Enough to lower the plushie, to add it to the pile in his arms.

“I still think the machine is rigged,” he pouted. “I’m usually great at these.”

That might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but Rafayel really was usually pretty good. Of course there was no account for luck, and it seemed he had used up the last of it before today.

“Maybe it is rigged,” she mused, turning her attention to some of the other machines in the arcade. Many of them looked similar, although the plushies trapped within them were different. There was a machine of entirely frog plushies, another with different food themed plushies, one where it seemed like everything was pink, although in all different shapes and sizes.

“Maybe we should try another one,” she continued, heading towards the machine with the pink plushies inside.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” he announced, coming up beside her. “I’ll win every single one in there, just you watch.”

She did let him see her smirk now, shaking her head as she kept the basket of tokens far from his reach. “Actually, I want to keep trying.”

Rafayel huffed, his brows drawing together as his pout deepened, but he didn’t argue.

At least not until she started winning even more plushies, until the stack in his arm threatened to fall.

“Are you going to make me your servant forever?” He groaned, readjusting the plushies.

She hummed as she added another to the teetering pile in his arms, a little pink bunny with floppy ears. “That’s not a bad idea.”

His shoulders slumped, and he balanced his chin on top of her newest plushie. “But-”

“Didn’t you say you’d do anything I asked?” She gave him her brightest smile, clasping her hands together over her heart. “Right? You said you’d do anything for your princess.”

His eyes narrowed, his nose wrinkling as he snorted. “Fine, I guess I can’t argue with royalty.”

She laughed, finding herself growing comfortable with the nickname he has bestowed upon her today. “Exactly. And what I want right now is to try to win a few plushies myself.”

It was another while yet before she felt satisfied, and they wandered around the arcade, trying different claw machines and simple games.

At the end of it all they had to purchase a few bags to store her winnings in, and to make them easier for Rafayel to carry.

As they received the bags to stow everything away, Rafayel very confidently announced to her that he would have no problem at all carrying them. That she should let him carry her purse, too, since he was showing her how loving and sweet he could be.

He even kissed her hands again, and her cheek as he helped to zip her jacket up again against the biting cold just a few steps away. As if she would be able to feel anything beyond the warmth thrumming in her veins after his lips had touched her so generously.

And true to his word he did not complain about the bags, although she could see it in his face as he tried to arrange them so he could still hold her hand, lines forming across his brow, looking as though he greatly wanted to complain.

But he held fast nonetheless, and something about it further eased the tension she had been carrying all day. Rafayel loved nothing so much as the sound of his own voice, and yet he kept things light, if still dramatic, uncomplaining even as he readjusted the bags again and again.

She was mulling over what to do next, whether she should release Rafayel from his penance, when her eyes landed on the sign above one of the downtown bookstores, the door thrown open to let warm air and welcoming golden light spill into the grey of the winter.

“Oh, can we go in?” She asked, forgetting for a moment that he was in her debt. “I want to take a look.”

“Your highness is awfully demanding,” he said, his smile giving away his answer. “But I don’t see why not.”

She beamed, squeezing his hand as she dragged him through the door, into the warmth of the store.

She would have happily let Rafayel wander at his own leisure, or lounge in some of the soft, worn chairs that dotted the front of the store near the windows, but he seemed content to follow along at her heels. He made idle comments on the titles and covers of books, nodding his head towards ones he thought she might be interested in, perching his chin on her shoulder whenever she pulled a book down to read its synopsis.

Rafayel clinging to her shadow also had the added benefit that they were often left alone in the aisles, the bulky bags he carried making it difficult for anyone else to squeeze behind them. It was a welcome reprieve as she wandered through the store, and she was able to take her time, not worrying about someone trying to rush her through browsing the shelves.

When she found a few she wanted to read, he was holding out his hand, bags swinging from his wrists, to hold them for her.

“But your hands are already full,” she said, eying the bags, and his other hand still tangled with hers. “It’s okay, love. I can carry them.”

His lips quirked up, and he reached out to take them from her hands before she could protest. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgiven me already, have you? And just for carrying a few plushies around.”

Laughter bubbled in her chest, although she managed to stop its escape. Instead of laughing, she merely tilted her head back and turned away, hoping she appeared haughty. “Fine. You carrying the books is the least you can do, anyways.”

“Ah, come on princess, you don’t have to be so cold.” She was sure if she looked he would give her his widest puppy dog eyes, but he didn’t sound like he was. He sounded like he was close to laughing, too, like he was barely able to hold back his smile.

She tried tugging her hand from his grasp, but she remained ensnared, caught in his pull. He squeezed her hand once, as if to say he was happy to play the penitent, but he was not about to let her go.

So she dragged him all over the store, handing him books as she did her best to playact an imperious noble. Each time she turned to hand him another book she would sniff, and she would catch Rafayel’s lips stretching wide like the sunshine spilling across the ocean at dawn.

She didn’t know if it meant she was doing a poor job and he thought it funny, or if she was doing an amazing job and he was finding it funny. Either way he was smiling, so she supposed it was a win.

After they had looped all her favourite sections multiple times, and had wandered through the section that curiously had racks of robes and simple outfits and cocktail mixes, she turned to him fully. “I think that’s everything.” She gestured to the stack of books in his arms, undoubtedly heavier than the plushies and yet he had brooked no complaint. “Let me take them now and I’ll go and pay.”

His brows furrowed, his mouth quirking to the side. “Do you think I’m not strong enough to carry a few books? I’ve lifted canvases heavier than these.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “No, Rafayel, that’s not it. But you’ve more than earned my forgiveness, and a little bit of rest. Let me take those and you can sit down while I pay for them.”

But he did not relinquish her books, and instead began dragging her towards the registers. Even as she protested, he ignored her, grinning wide like she wasn’t yanking on his hand, trying to convince him not to waste his money on her.

It was a fruitless endeavour, and five minutes later he was accepting a bag from the cashier, who was giving her a knowing grin, whispering under her breath that Rafayel was a keeper.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she whined once they were back out on the street. Rafayel was beaming, smug, the paper bag carrying the books crinkling as he swung it at his side. “You didn’t have to waste your money.”

“Waste?” One brow arched as he shook his head. “I promise, your royal highness, that nothing is ever a waste when it’s for you.”

Despite the chill, warmth crept into her face, and she was thankful that she could blame the flush of her cheeks on the bite of the wind.

Rafayel leaned closer, looking like he wanted to cup her cheek. But with his hands full, all he could do was close the distance between them, squeezing her hand, thumb stroking the inside of her wrist, his nose bumping against hers so all she could see was the ocean of his eyes. The melting of blue into red, the lick of ruby flames overtaking the sapphire sky.

“Nothing is too much, or too expensive when it comes to you. I’ll do anything that you want if it makes you smile.”

She wanted to say something clever, something witty, but all that passed between her lips was air. Like she was emptying her lungs as she swam deeper and deeper into the ocean-blue of his eyes, his hand her only tether to land.

“I’ll buy you all the books you want,” he continued, eyes glinting like sunlight dancing over water. Like the flicker of silver fins and rainbow scales beneath the waves. “And plushies, and food, and anything else you could ever want.”

He drew away, straightening just enough that the cold of the wind could whistle between them, just enough so she could see his smile in full. It could have been teasing, jovial, but instead it was soft, tender as a morning kiss. There was something fathomless in his eyes, both lost and found, a longing that echoed in her own heart.

“I’ll make you any painting, cry a million pearls.” His words were feather-light, nearly torn away in the air. “And I’ll make sure it’s all perfect. Only the most perfect things for you.”

She would have liked to tell him that none of that mattered, that the only thing she wanted was him. That she didn’t care for perfection so long as he stayed with her, so long as he held her hand and continued to smile and laugh and continue his shenanigans.

But she didn’t know how to say it, the words lodging in her throat, unable to form on her tongue.

“Rafayel, I-” Her lungs spasmed, her fingers tightening around his hand. He cocked his head to the side, like a bird listening to the symphony of the world around it.

She closed her mouth, swallowed, tried again. “I don’t… I mean I want…”

An unpleasant heat was beginning to flush in her cheeks, different from when he had flustered her before, this one sharp prickles that made her itch. But he didn’t speak, watching her quietly, patiently.

She breathed slowly, licked her lips, tried one final time. “Rafayel. I-”

But what she said wasn’t anything that she had been thinking, or perhaps it was, all of it stitched and embroidered into the fabric of the words she did say.

“I forgive you.”

At first he did nothing, although the slow climb of his brows told her that he had heard her, but that understanding hadn’t quite sunk in.

The moment realization hit him was like light flaring suddenly, like the explosion of fireworks in the sky. His eyes brightened, his mouth opened, a grin so wide she could see the sharp point of one of his incisors.

He laughed, bright as bells, warm as spring, pretty as birdsong. “You mean I have earned my freedom, your highness?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you’re free. You’re forgiven for earlier today.”

He continued to chuckle, swinging their joined hands. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry it would take a hundred years for you to forgive me.”

“Well don’t test your luck,” she grumbled. Her face still burned, although the discomfort had eased, and her voice was thick from the words still caught in her throat. She would have liked to cling to an ounce of feigned annoyance, to turn away in a huff so he could not see everything unsaid in her eyes, the colour in her cheeks. But Rafayel’s laughter was infectious, and the delight in it bubbled like champagne in her veins, fizzed in her mind and blurred her senses.

Rafayel seemed utterly unperturbed by her own personal turmoil, swinging their hands higher, his smile fixed to his face.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked, winking. “Should we go to the beach? Or would you like to go somewhere for dinner?”

She eyed the bags in his hands, the slope of his shoulders as he was weighed down by them. She could feel fatigue beginning to creep over her, like the slow stretch of ivy over aging brick. She could only imagine how tired Rafayel was too, his day just as long as hers, along with the addition of carrying everything around for her.

Having dinner sounded nice, but she wanted to relax, she wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and breathe in the smell of his cologne, barely masking the smell of salt and the sting of paint.

“What if we went home and ordered something instead?” She suggested. “It’s been a long day and I’d like to rest. Maybe we could watch a movie too?”

Rafayel hummed, his eyes ever-so-slightly narrowing. “Can’t get enough of me, huh? You were acting so mad, but now you want to stick around.”

As if he hadn’t just suggested spending more time together either.

She rolled her eyes. “I just thought it would be nice. It was a stressful day for the both of us, and I thought doing something lowkey could be fun.”

“I suppose we could do that,” he mused, his smirk a sharp curve of his lips. “It would probably be best to indulge your highness’ whims. I would hate to upset you again.”

“If you don’t want to, you can just say so,” she huffed. “It was just an idea.”

“I never said I didn’t want to.” His smile hiked higher, the corners of his eyes creasing. “But I want to pick out the movie. And where we eat.”

“I think I should be the one to pick out where we eat,” she argued, reaching over with her free hand to pinch him. “Since you scared me.”

“What, so now I’m unforgiven?” He whined, staring at her as though she’d just kicked a puppy. “I had to put up with dumb art collectors and my phone broke!”

“You’re not unforgiven,” she said, heat spreading in her chest, reaching down her arms, making her fingers tingle. “I just think I should get to pick where we eat!”

“Yes, but if I’ve been forgiven then shouldn’t you owe me now?” His brow arched. “Since you’ve made me do such hard labour?”

The heat continued to spread, her fingers itching. “That was part of your apology. And I think that after the day I’ve had I should get to pick out dinner.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You really are a princess. I did so much to make up for-”

It was on impulse that she moved, yanking her hand free from his and grabbing hold of his jacket. Rafayel paused, brows high, eyes wide as he turned. It gave her the opening she needed to snag his front with her other hand, yanking him close.

“Rafayel.”

He blinked, colour flaring in his cheeks like fireworks exploding in the indigo of night. It made his eyes seem darker, their colour deeper, so deep and fathomless she could have drowned in them.

His lips fell open, a silent question on them as his breath slipped away.

“You scared me today. Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she said, hands firmly twisting into the fabric of his jacket.

A brow arched, the corner of his lip twitching like he might grin. “Or what?”

“Or else.”

She had no real threat for him, and yet it seemed to do the job just fine. He smirked, lowering his head until he was peeking up at her from beneath the fringe of his thick lashes.

“Yes ma’am.” His words were hushed, warm and heavy, settling deep in her belly. “I promise I won’t ever make you wait again. I’ll always be with you.”

Whatever had possessed her to grab him was beginning to loose its hold on her, and she loosened her own grip on him, although still she clung close. “And?”

He huffed a laugh. “And you can pick the movie. But I’m still picking dinner.”

She dropped her hands as she gaped. “You can’t!”

“Oh but I can, love.” He flashed her a teasing smile, tapping her brow before straightening. “I know a place that just opened, and they don’t normally do delivery, but they will for me. You’ll absolutely love it.”

She made to pinch him, but he caught her wrist, smirking. “Doesn’t that get old?”

So instead she pinched him with her free hand, biting back a smile as he yelped. “No.”

“You’re lucky my other hand is full,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Or else you’d be in trouble.”

She giggled, a snorting, bubbling sound that made his smile soften. “I think that’s an empty threat. You wouldn’t retaliate.”

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

“Of course not.”

He shrugged, sighing. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Well-”

“Anyways,” he cut her off before she could tease him, dragging her down the street. “Come on, I’m starving. Are we going to my place?”

“If you don’t mind,” she said, stumbling after him.

He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “Of course not. Although if you’re planning on staying over you have to cook breakfast tomorrow.”

His eyes met hers for half a second, less than a breath, before he rolled them, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“What?” She hadn’t even said anything, hadn’t so much as frowned. “What did I do?”

“Nothing yet, but I know what you will say.” He groaned dramatically, tilting his head back.

She actually wouldn’t have minded, although she did not say as much as Rafayel quickly went through the five stages of grief.

“I’ll make something tomorrow morning instead. It might give me some inspiration since all of it was drained after going to that gallery.”

She reached out to cover his hand with hers, fingers interlacing. “Well maybe there’s something I can do to help with that.”

“Suddenly feeling benevolent?” He arched a brow, drawing her closer.

She shrugged. “I know you had a difficult day too, and I’d like to help if I can.”

Surprise melted into warmth like the night beneath the dawn across his face. His cheeks flushed, and she could have sworn she felt the quick pulse of his heart. But his smile was tender, his gaze soft.

“You know, I think I can feel it returning already,” he mused. “You might have to stay over for more than a day.”

She smiled, let herself sink against him as they walked. The frantic fear of the early afternoon was little more than a distant memory, a half-forgotten nightmare nearly swept away. Rafayel was safe, he was smiling, and his hand was twined with hers. That was all she’d wanted, to be close, to stay beside him today.

And tomorrow too, and the day after, and all the tomorrows after.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said, squeezing her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m trying to figure out what kind of food you’ve picked,” she said. “Since you won’t tell me anything about it.”

“Are you worried it won’t be up to your royal standards?” He chuckled, swinging her hand again. It was silly, a little childish, and yet it made her incandescently happy when he did. “Well you don’t have to fear, your highness, it’s something you’ll love.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Just trust me,” he insisted.

“Alright.” Now she swung their joined hands too, tossing them high. He laughed, eyes tracking the movement, his smile making her heart stumble, trip, no better than a toddler learning to walk. “I guess I’ll trust you.”

More laughter, warm as sunshine, sweet as sugar. She could have listened to it forever, an enchanting siren song that she would have happily let lead her to her doom.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he said, although his smile belied the annoyed roll of his eyes.

She giggled. “Sorry, sorry. I do trust you, I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned.”

His answer was simple, and yet it warmed her as surely as a star unfurling behind her ribs. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Where once there had been grey and white, pallid despair and shadowy fear, now everything seemed to be bright as technicolour. Streaks of cerise stained the sky, buttery yellow poured from windows, starlit silver washed across the sidewalk as the streetlights flicked to life. There were emerald greens and cerulean blues and plum purples, all filling her sight. They were embers catching and blooming to life, flowers unfurling at the first whisper of spring.

She leaned closer, pressing her cheek against his arm, listening as he hummed. It was because of him that her world was filled with such colour, each new brushstroke, each new shade, brilliant as the glitter of gemstones, bright as the shine of the sun.

Hope bloomed like spring, like blushing pink across his cheeks. Hope that he would stay with her, their hands always intertwined. Hope that he would find her, even if she was late. That she would find him, even if he was too. Hope that her world would always be bright, and filled with colour.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads rafayel #qi yu #rafayel love and deepspace #qi yu x mc #rafayel x mc #rafayel lads #message in a bottle

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seaofgoldensand · 2 months

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sir ✋✋ this is nOT A COMPETITION

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dawnbreakersgaze · 2 months

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The blood sacrifice has been made

@zaynesaurora and @rose-tinted-kalopsia It's done! I've spent the day having fun with this one ♡♡ hopefully yall enjoy lol

Image drawn based off the piece with Xavier that I maybe hyperfixated on, written by Pheonix that you can find here

Tumblr sucks so the full piece below the cut is still heavily edited, but you can find the link to the original piece in full glory below

Did I go overboard with the stickers? Yeah probably. Did Tumblr hate this post twice already? YuP.

So I've got a lot of opinions on this after working on it for like 10 hours now (yes, I'm super slow these days, blame my hands 😭) and the big one is how much trust Xavier would have in you to let you do this to him. I mean the poor man has some kind of device around his neck already that is harming him, and he has a dialog or two in the Cafe about being careful with his neck if you mess around with it. But like with all kink- trust and communication are paramount.

Xavier is someone who's had to be in control pretty much his entire life. He was born into it via royalty, he took it up again when founding the Backtrackers, and then it never really let up after that. With all that in mind, I think Xav would actually really enjoy the moments of getting to completely let go of responsibility that the sub life offers. Now I'm not saying he'd fully embrace it and never go back, but rather that the appeal of letting someone else hold all the responsibility for a while would definitely find purchase in him from time to time.

I hope you two (and any other lovely heathens that made it this far lol) enjoyed this piece! You can find the unstickerer piece on my g-drive here, feel free to save it and use as you wish 😊🤭

#remember kids- practice your adult time safely! always insure you know how to properly know how to use your gear and inspect it frequently #tw: choking #lnds #love and deepspace #l&ds #xavier #art of kay #if you have issues with the link feel free to message me for it :)#im tempted to do companion pieces for the other 3 dudes now this was too fun

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yvonnesrespite · 10 days

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It's a few hours later but Jeremiah has it coded quickly. It's a landing page with the flower language for Yvonne's jealousy bouquet. There's a space at the bottom she can enter some "choice words" too. He sends her the link. [->Yvonne (nurse): Hey, check the link out. Forward it to him and tell him it goes with the bouquet. Or tell him not to check the link and maybe his new girl will get it instead. Or...I have a ways to get her email. Maybe we email it to her directly instead? What's your call?]

Yvonne is looking at the notification from her phone. She just got home and finished taking a shower. Clean from the filth of her wrath. Sort of. It still bubbles within. She taps the link and then pauses in her tracks. Maybe it’s a bit far, right? Nah. Yvonne is a decent person, and the decision she’s about to make will surely reflect that.

[➺Jerm (Pollinator): Gonna be honest; I blocked the guy LOL. But we should give the new girl a warning. I don’t think I was the first that he tricked, and I fear I won’t be the last. We don’t want the poor girl to be the next. The hospital can only do so much to repair a broken heart, let alone the scars that leaves behind.

➺ Jerm (Pollinator): And thanks for having my back and all. You didn’t have to go this far but like, I’m not stopping you. This is fun.]

#♡ lnds yvonne #♡ jer’s lavender lullabies; jeremiahofphilo #♡ linkon playground #(putting tags is exhausting)#(ive been as inconsistent with tags as tinder messages)#(those are wild)

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linkonlceleste · 3 months

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LnD boys- How they would save your name in phone (+ a scenario)

Disclaimer- apologies for grammar mistakes and if my writing is not upto how the characters react/behave.Just an example ,not implying this to be the exact name they'd save.

Zayne - "Mine"

Once during a meeting,he left his phone on the meeting table.Some of his co-workers noticed his phone ringing(you were the one who called) and didn't know whose phone it was.One coworker said ,"I think it's Dr.Zayne's phone". Another co-worker peeked at the phone and scoffed saying,"No way!,he would never save someone's name as 'mine'". And as everyone were agreeing and gossiping ,they saw zayne entering the room .He swiftly took the exact phone they were talking about,attended the call casually and walked away.Everyone in that meeting room were silent ,some staring at each other ,some jawdropped,while some were laughing in disbelief.

Xavier - "My star"

Jeremiah noticed Xavier walking back and forth with his phone in his hand."What's wrong, Xavier?",he asked with a bit of concern and glanced at his phone which Xavier immediately hid away from him.Still, Jeremiah noticed a few words in the beginning such as 'To my star', 'I'm sorry', ' please'. He laughed asking,"Pfft,what's that long para you're writing?,to my star? Who's that? And an apology letter? Why, what did you do? Tell me tell me". Jeremiah shooted so many questions and despite knowing who was his 'star',he teased Xavier ,who was annoyed by jeremiah's behaviour.He was writing an apology message to you, probably because he ignored you and went to a dangerous mission alone.

Rafayel - "My muse"

Thomas dashed into Rafayel's art studio, frustrated that he ignored his own as well as the client's calls.He saw rafayel who was busy playing with his paintbrush ."Mr.Rafayel ,How many times should we call you?! I know you might be busy thinking of ideas,but Can't you please take your call or message atleast once?!You know today's the deadline right?",as he kept ranting ,rafayel stroked a line in his painting unbothered.Thomas gave up and said rafayel one last time about the deadline and muttered as he left "Is there a day he attends a single person's call? Gosh".And as he was turning to leave,he saw rafayel's phone vibrating .The caller was 'my muse'. "Oh he definitely would ignore this too",before Thomas could finish thinking that,rafayel picked his phone cheerfully "MC! How was your day today?". Thomas was too stunned to speak.

A/N: Thank you for reading,take care :) ❤️

#love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace drabble #love and deepspace fanfiction

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chaos-in-deepspace · 16 days

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LNDS Spicy Headcanons | 18+

Well I did generalized headcanons for the boys, now we need to get into the spice headcanons. Which honestly is one of my favorite things to write. I regret nothing when it comes to Rafayel's part.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: 18+ Headcanons, Cockwarming, Consensual Somnophilia, Sexting, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Bathtub Sex, Mentions of Oral (M!Receiving), Non-Human Anatomy

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

One of the kinkiest men you will ever meet. Is willing to try everything at least once if given the option. The worst part is he doesn't seem like the type at all until you're in the bedroom with him and you realize you might be in danger.

He is normally on top, but doesn't mind being a switch, especially when he's tired. If you want to take charge and pamper him, then by all means. As long as you don't tease him too much he'll let you do just about anything. If you tease him though...well you won't be on top for very long. The moment he loses control you'll be bent like a pretzel.

Xavier has more length than girth, and god damn is he able to use that to his advantage. If anything his dick is actually kind of pretty, with a few prominent veins on it and a soft pink tip. Now how he uses it...he will learn your body so well that he can perfectly angle himself inside of you and make you see stars. There is no saving you at that point.

Xavier can't say he has a favorite position when he's taking you. As long as he can be inside you in some way, shape, or form, he's content. If he had to choose though, he likes being in a spooning position with his cock buried into your heat, his hand on your hip and face in the crook of your neck while he whispers the filthiest things in your ear.

Despite having a larger sex drive than most would think, he doesn't masturbate as often. Anytime he's in the mood he might start, but if he doesn't have you with him it's not as exciting and he often times finds himself wanting to doze off. Only time he'll finish himself off in his own hand is if you're with him, or on call with him and he can hear you moaning as you touch yourself to the sound of his voice.

Xavier can and will send you spicy text messages while you're at work. He's a lot more careful with sending photos though since he'd hate it if you opened an image of him in public and had someone else see on accident. Not because he's ashamed of his body, but because he hates the thought of embarrassing you while you're working. He will, however, happily accept a spicy photo of you at any point in time. He even has a privacy screen on his phone so nobody can accidentally see it.

While Xavier is pretty kinky, he does have a few he is partial to. He likes cockwarming, especially after you two finish. If he had the choice he'd fall asleep with his length still deep inside of you. Another one would be somnophilia, as long as both parties consent to it of course. Xavier feels bad he's always sleeping, so if you ever wanted to use his body he'd be more than happy to let you. Not to mention it would make an amazing wake up call.

Zayne

Out of all three love interests, Zayne is the most tame when it comes to kinks. While he is happy enough to indulge you with whatever you want to try out, he is very much content with plain vanilla if that's what you request. Honestly whatever works out for the both of you is what he likes.

Now despite him being fine with vanilla sex, if you suggest trying something a bit more out there, he's probably all for it. Especially if you ask him to dominate you. He's already the top when it comes to sex, even if you're riding him he's holding your hips and controlling the tempo. If you ask for more Dom/Sub dynamics, he'll research it heavily before trying anything.

Zayne's dick is an absolute monster. Not only is it girthy, there's also quite a bit of length there as well and the veins lining the length only add to the sensations. It's the kind of dick that you have to whisper "Never back down, never give up". You won't be walking straight for days. It's the kind of cock that might put you in a wheelchair. It's a damn good thing he's a medical professional because his dick might actually destroy you, and yet you'll still be begging for more. Half the time he doesn't even put it in all the way so that you'll have a chance at being able to go to work the next day. And good luck sucking him off, not even a master could fit his entire dick down their throat.

Zayne's favorite position would have to be you riding him. He'll sit down on a couch with you on his lap, your chest right in front of him so he can nip and suck at it. His hands having an almost bruising grip on your hips as he guide you up and down on his length. Your small whimpers as he tells you how good you are for him. To Zayne, literally nothing can beat the view of you bouncing in his lap.

Zayne hates having to take matters into his own hands, literally, but sometimes if he doesn't have you with him he needs to do something. Memories of your nights together will be going through his head until he's painfully hard and can't sleep or work. He's not vocal when he masturbates unless he's on call with you, and even then it's small grunts here and there.

Zayne will avoid sending you pictures that are explicit. He might send more teasing photos to you every now and then, but nothing too bad. He's also careful about sending steamy messages. Normally if he does, it's to inform you of what's to come later in the day and it doesn't go too far. When you two are away from one another for long periods of time, he will video call you for some play time. Sometimes he'll even edge you, telling you not to cum until he gets home (which is torture for those business trips that last literal weeks).

Rafayel

As long as you're willing, Rafayel is more than happy to explore certain kinks with you. Of course only after you both look into it together. He loves teasing you about them while you two look into it, his body draped over your own while his hands explore your exposed skin, asking if you wanted to try the kink you're reading about right now.

He's a switch without a doubt. When he's bottoming he's nothing but a brat trying to be a power bottom and take control of the situation. When he's on top he is a huge tease, coaxing you into begging him for his touch. Either way, sex with Rafayel is always fun. Normally it's a small battle of dominance to decide who tops and bottoms.

Rafayel has more length than girth, and can definitely be called above average in that department. He isn't huge though, but just the right size to make you feel completely full. He also knows how to use it, making you whimper out his name as he slowly drags his length against your warm walls. His dick is pretty smooth as well, the veins not being very prominent. It is extremely sensitive to your touch though, and it's so easy to get him riled up just by running your hand over his pants.

To nobody's surprise, Rafayel likes to take you in the water. Whether it be in the pool, his tub, or the ocean. He has to admit you look amazing while the two of you are in the tub, your hands gripping the edges as you slowly ride him. His hands playing with all your exposed parts, teasing you and slowly bucking his hips into your own. Watching you cum and collapse onto his chest, panting his name as he continued fucking into you while you cling to him until he finishes, sometimes dragging another orgasm out of you.

Rafayel can and will masturbate to the thought of you whenever he has so much of a dirty thought. He's so down bad for you that he can't help himself. Just remembering how your skin feels against him, or how you whimper his name is enough to get him hard. He's not afraid to admit he's had to escape to the bathroom at one of his exhibits before just to get it out of his system. He can and will inform you about how it's all your fault and how you need to take responsibility.

Speaking of how you'll be informed if he masturbates, he will send you photos when it happens. His hand wrapped around his cock while in a closet during an event. Sometimes you'll see the cum dripping from the tip as he tells you n detail what you do to him. If he's at the studio, he'll call you up moaning your name, asking when you can come over. Of course this doesn't happen daily, but it is smart to make sure to have a privacy screen for your phone as well as headphones when you answer one of Rafayel's video calls if you're in public.

Lemurian Form

Rafayel is significantly more sensitive to touch in his Lemurian form. Feeling your hands tracing over his delicate scales will send shivers right down his spine.

He has two...and they're not small either. He has a slit in his tail that's softer than the rest and if you play with it enough, his cocks will come out. They're stacked, one on top of the other. The bottom one is about the side of his normal dick, but the top is significantly bigger.

They're tapered as well, coming to a soft point at the tips. The base of his cock has soft scales that are extremely sensitive (touching them the first time made him cum instantly). The rest of his length is a soft blue color that gradients to a more flesh tone at the top.

His cum is bioluminescent.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Zayne Love and Deepspace #Xavier Love and Deepspace #Rafayel Love and Deepspace #Lnd #LndRafayel #Lnd Zayne #Lnd Xavier #lnd x reader #x reader #reader insert #lnd #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader

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lost-and-ephemeral · 3 months

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lnds x reader where the boys and reader are in an argument like bringing their insecurities up and says something extremely hurtful that made mc cry and distant themselves and the boys regret it so much? 💓

HCs: Hurtful Words (ft. main trio)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort (in the end), maybe guys acting too OOC

A/N: I didn't want to make boys too OOC, so maybe it isn't exactly what you wanted, but I tried to follow your request ♡

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Xavier

On one of your last missions, you were too reckless and almost end up dying because of it.

Xavier almost lost you again, and the thought just drove him crazy.

He was worried and pretty angry since it wasn't the first time you were playing with fire.

When he showed up on the doorstep of your hospital room, Xavier was very distressed. Even your reassuring smile made no impression on him.

He still remembered how you died in his arms in the past.

So he snapped.

Not because he really wanted to offend you. No. But because his anxiety had turned into a furious stream of thoughts.

He was harshly talking about how reckless you are. About how you're not all-powerful or immortal, yet you never think about the consequences. About how stupid you're being, putting yourself in danger by jumping into a group of enemies.

Xavier, normally mild and calm, was acting so different now.

And you, being injured and bedridden, hardly wanted to see this exact reaction from him.

His words made you feel like a burden.

And when there was no trace of anger left, he suddenly fell silent, looking at the way your eyes were slowly filling up with tears.

Oh, no. He didn't mean it.

He really didn't mean it.

"Leave my room," you choked out, feeling deeply hurt by his words.

Even if he wanted to stay, it wasn't the best idea.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you."

But you were wounded too deeply by his harsh words, so you immediately distanced yourself from him, chasing him away.

Stupid? Reckless? Did he really see you like that?

Of course not...

Every minute of his existence Xavier was regretting the fact the snapped at you like this. He was supposed to support you after a serious injury, not make you hurt even more.

And the distance between the two of you made it worse.

Happy ending bonus:

This poor guy only lasted a day before he came back to see you in the hospital with a bouquet of flowers.

It was physically hard to stay away from you for so long, especially since Xavier has already spend years searching for you. And ruining everything by this stupid argument wasn't something he wished for.

He was apologizing for everything he said until you softened and let him stay.

Because you, too, were missing his presence.

"I'll never let anger get control over me again. I swear. Please, just... Get better soon."

Rafayel

Every now and then you and Rafayel would get into a playful argument, but now it was serious.

You just totally forgot about meeting with him at his studio and went to the mall with Tara.

Your busy schedule had jumbled up all the plans and days of the week in your head. And you ended up remembering your promise only a few hours later.

The fact that your phone was muted and you had hundreds of missed messages from Rafayel only made you feel more guilty.

So you tried to get to his studio as soon as possible while calling him. But he didn't answer.

Once you got there, you ran into a really pissed off Rafayel.

Yes, he was pouting at you from time to time.

But now the artist was more than angry.

You knew he was very sensitive when you suddenly disappeared without warning, so you immediately tried to make it up to him.

But it didn't really work.

"How could you forget about me?! You promised!"

Unexpectedly, Rafayel let himself snap at you.

He was so frustrated about the fact you forgot about him that he had no control over what he said.

He talked and talked. About not being able to trust you with your promises. About how he was tired of worrying about you when you suddenly disappear without a word. About how he was tired of waiting for you, thinking you decided to leave him, making him feel like a fish out of water.

And hearing about you being such an unreliable and bad person was truly painful.

His anger eventually led to you storming out of his studio in tears, not wanting to hear any more accusations against you.

You didn't cheat on him, didn't do anything wrong. That's why this sudden aggression from him made you so upset.

And only while standing alone in his studio Rafayel realized that he had made things worse. He didn't want you to leave him, yet this is exactly what happened.

He tried calling you, texting you. But all he got was silence.

Bonus happy ending:

After a few days the silence between you two became unbearable. He felt like he was in agony.

When you heard the doorbell ring in the evening, you didn't expect to see Rafayel looking like a wet, sad puppy. It seemed that he had been caught in the rain and had come to see you anyway.

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other before finally lifting his gaze to look at you.

"I'm sorry. I acted like a total jerk. Please, I can't exist in isolation anymore, not being able to hear your voice or see you. You can even scold me till the end of time if you want, just don't leave me."

You missed him as much as he missed you. So you let him in.

Zayne

Sometimes Zayne was incredibly tired at work. Not just physically, but mentally.

At this time, he wanted more than anything to just rest and forget about all important matters. If such a thing was even allowed for a surgeon as busy as he was.

Maybe he'd be able to do it even more often if he didn't have to occasionally wait for you to show up for an appointment.

Especially since periodically you completely forgot about them. And in the worst cases, you were not only late, but didn't show up at all.

Usually, he would just lightly scold you, which didn't cause any problems. After all, it was Zayne's way to show that he cared about you.

But today was a particularly hard day at work.

So when you walked into his medical office, Zayne was sitting at his desk, massaging the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

And your excessive cheerfulness at that moment didn't make the situation any better. You sat down across from him with a smile. But he only shook his head, tired and disappointed.

"You forgot about your appointment again and decided to reschedule it for tonight?"

You smiled awkwardly, but didn't have time to say anything.

Oh, how annoyed he was, scolding you for how negligent you were about your health, ignoring all of his recommendations. He said that sometimes he felt like you are his personal headache. Except he couldn't get rid of you.

And he was too tired to notice how quickly the smile disappeared from your face, giving way to tears.

Before he could say anything, you threw the stack of papers with your test results on his desk, almost running out of his office.

The situation had gone far beyond what was acceptable, but Zayne realized it too late.

He tried to call you and even drove to your place right after his shift ended, but he was left standing in front of the closed door.

Maybe it would've been better to just let you cool off.

But with your silence, a devastating feeling settled in Zayne's heart. He was so, so sorry.

Bonus happy ending:

After a couple days of agonizing silence, he wanted nothing more than to see you. He managed to catch you before you went into your apartment.

You avoided his gaze, but you didn't leave, giving him time.

"I'm sorry. You're not a headache. I was having an awfully rough day at the time, so I snapped. It won't happen again."

Now you could clearly see the remorse in his eyes. You missed him so much and just couldn't push him away again.

After all, everyone can have an argument. The main thing is to be able to deal with the situation correctly.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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starmocha · 2 months

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Xavier: concerned

Rafayel: you can't be sad if I make you laugh 🥰

Zayne: ight imma head out

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #lnds ; messages #z a y n e 💀💀💀#but rafayel's teasing is sweet #come at me if you're angry #wanna wipe away those tears first?#🥺🥺🥺

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spacesquidlings · 2 months

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Interlude for Lunch

Being invited to Rafayel's studio that morning had promised a lazy, sleepy day spent with him while he painted, and yet it was quickly turning into something more as she tried taking care of her hungry, tired artist in pain.

Pairing: Rafayel x MC Tags: Fluff, comfort, implied/established relationship, domestic-ness Taglist: @aluneposting

A long, drawn out groan drew her from her reverie.

She had been reading, half-asleep on the couch in Rafayel’s studio. Soft blankets had been strewn across it, pillows fluffed until they were puffy as cotton-candy clouds. Honeyed sunlight had spilled from the windows, washing over the floors and furniture like a gauzy veil.

It had been as alluring as a siren song, and she had nestled into it as Rafayel had painted. He’d called her that morning, asking her to come over, but when she’d arrived he’d only waved a hand, telling her to make herself comfortable as he’d frowned at his painting.

So she had, settling into the couch that had suspiciously been covered in all her favourite blankets. It had been far too easy to doze, even though she’d tried valiantly to remain awake, focusing her attention on the book she’d brought with her. But the blankets had been so soft, and the pillows so fluffy, and the sun so warm.

The snatches of melodies Rafayel had hummed had been the proverbial nail in the coffin, like scraps of a lullaby woven together in the air, soft and serene, lulling her to sleep.

But when he groaned, loud and raspy and full of distress, she snapped awake at once, bleary eyes searching for him in the cavernous room that served as his studio.

She found Rafayel leaning back on a stool, teetering precariously close to the edge, his head thrown back. His bangs spilled back, a mess of lavender and lilac and violet as the light caught in it. He had tossed his paintbrush to the side, trailing a line of azure as it rolled across the floor, one of his hands gripping at his wrist.

“Rafayel?” She struggled to stand, the blankets tangled and knotted around her legs. “Darling? What’s wrong?”

He leaned further back, very nearly toppling backwards as he spied her. “You’re awake.”

“Of course I am.” Finally she managed to free herself from the tangle of blankets, getting to her feet and crossing the room towards him. “I heard you. Are you okay?”

He clicked his tongue as he straightened, still clutching his wrist as he stood. “My wrists have been hurting all morning, and now I can hardly hold a paintbrush.”

“What?” She hurried to him, hands outstretched towards him.

He raised his brows, but made no comment as she took his hands, prying away the one that was clinging to his wrist.

“When did the pain start?” She squeezed his wrists gently, trying to feel for swelling, a bruise, a broken bone, anything. “Did you do anything yesterday? Why did you go to the doctor? Why did you keep painting today?”

He sighed, flipping his hands over and wrapping his fingers around her wrists. “You’re asking the questions too fast for me to answer.”

“Oh.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she ducked her head, staring at the dried paint splattered across the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.”

She looked back up, finding amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Don’t pout,” he chided, shaking his head even as he gave her an impish smile. “I’m already hurt, are you really going to make me feel worse?”

She ground her teeth together, looking away as his smile grew wider. “My mistake, you must not be hurt that badly if you’re making jokes.”

She tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened on her, yanking her back before she’d even taken a full step away.

“Wait.” His eyes widened, his smile melting into a frown. If little pinpricks of silver had appeared at the corners of his eyes she wouldn’t have been surprised.

She conceded, letting him reel her back in. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

He looked down, a line forming between his brows as he dropped her hands, squeezing his wrists again. “I’d been hit with some inspiration, so I spent all of yesterday painting. When I woke up this morning they were hurting, but I thought it would go away once I started painting again.”

She frowned, reaching for his hands again.

“Being awfully touchy today, huh,” he said, the corner of his lip twitching.

She remained silent, glowering at him until he wilted, muttering a half-apology.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked

“Well I was gonna,” he whined. He shifted from foot-to-foot, and the image of a sulking child coming home with scrapes all over him rose in her mind, refusing to make eye contact as he shuffled his feet. “But I forgot.”

“You forgot?” She blinked. “You made it sound like it’s been making it impossible to paint.”

He rolled his eyes with a huff. Definitely a petulant child. “Well it hasn’t made it impossible, but I wanted to get as much done as I could while I was inspired, and whenever you’re around I feel more creative…” He trailed off, glaring at the far wall. “I got distracted, but now it hurts too much to work on any of the finer details.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, warmth like the first blush of light as the sun rose spreading rosy fingers through her chest, reaching through the spaces between her ribs.

‘Whenever you’re around I feel more creative…’

She would save that to tease him with for later.

But right now she was worried about the pain in his wrists, and even more worried that he’d tried to work through it, that he probably would have ignored it entirely until it got so much worse.

“Have you ever had this kind of pain before?”

A shake of his head, as dramatic as a stage-actor embellishing their movements. “No, never!” His words were an exclamation, loud and exasperated. He heaved out a long breath, shoulders rising and falling, head tossed to the side. “This has never happened before.”

“Rafayel…” She trailed off, flipping his hands up then down, palms to the ceiling, to the floor, her fingers carefully probing to see if she could find anything.

“It’s probably nothing,” he groaned, slumping forward now, head very nearly knocking into hers. “But I can’t finish my painting while it hurts!”

He jerked his head back up so quickly he nearly knocked their foreheads together. She barely had a moment to lean back before he was peering up at her, crocodile tears shining in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering like he was about to sob. “What if I run out of inspiration? It took me weeks to find it!”

She sighed, giving his wrists a squeeze. “Before we jump to the worst case scenario, we need to handle this, okay?”

He groaned, tossing against his shoulder, slumping sideways like he might spill onto the floor. “How can we handle it? Are you going to swim into the ocean to find wishing fish to cure me?”

She blinked. “Are those real?”

“You really need to be less trusting.”

She groaned, rolling her own eyes now. “Come on, Rafayel. I’m worried about you, you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Excuse me?” He scoffed, looking offended. “I take care of myself perfectly well. It sounds to me like someone is making things up!”

She frowned, pulling out her phone to check the time. “Did you eat breakfast?”

There was a short intake of breath, like he was about to answer, and then…

Nothing.

She looked back up to see him pouting, looking away as he puffed out his cheeks.

“You didn’t eat breakfast, did you?”

He yanked himself from her grip, crossed his arms, shielding himself from her. He puffed his cheeks out even more, still refusing to answer.

She giggled, unable to resist poking his cheek. “You know it’s the middle of the afternoon, right?”

Still no answer. All she got in response was Rafayel half-turning away from her, wrinkling his nose as he shot her a scathing look from the corner of his eye.

She reached for him again, settling her hands just below his shoulders. “Come with me, love.”

He looked back at her, his expression softening, although his tone was still thick with suspicion. “What are you planning?”

“I’m planning-” she took the opening to take his arm, dragging him towards the couch. “To get you to sit down so we can get you feeling better.”

“Hey. Hey!” Although he protested, he did not stop her from pulling him from his painting, nor did he stop her from nearly shoving him against the cushions of the couch.

“If you wanted me to sit you could have just asked,” he whined, squeezing his wrists again. “I’m delicate, you know. You have to be gentle with me.”

The memory of the last time she’d been unwell surfaced in her mind, Rafayel dragging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and all but chucking her onto the bed and telling her to rest.

“Mmmm,” she hummed instead, unlocking her phone and opening her delivery app. “Okay, baby. First of all, let’s get you something to eat.”

He groaned, eyes rolling so high all she could see were the whites as he threw himself back against the cushions.

Delicate indeed.

“I’m fine,” he groaned, waving his hand in the air. “I’m not hungry, I just want my wrists to stop hurting!”

She clicked her tongue. “You need to eat something, Rafayel. It’ll make you feel a little better.”

He wrinkled his nose, turning his head to the side with a huff.

“Alright.” She widened her eyes theatrically, waving her phone at him. “So if I order you a large garden salad with no toppings, that will be fine?”

“No, I don’t want that.” Suddenly he was up, trying to snatch the phone from her hands as he protested. “If you’re going to order something, order something good.”

“Oh? Like what?” She pulled her phone just out of reach, pressing her palm against his chest to stop him from grabbing it. “What do you think would be good?”

“Well not a salad.” He made another grab for her phone, narrowly missing. “And don’t go ordering that awful sushi like you did last time.”

“What do you mean, awful?” She gaped at him, mildly offended. She’d really liked the sushi she’d ordered last, the crispy bits along the sides adding a nice little crunch and the sauce being perfectly spicy. “I thought it was good!”

“Not only are you guileless, but you have no taste for seafood, either.” He grabbed her wrist, sliding her hand from his chest and lunging forward.

She laughed, rolling to the side and nearly falling from the couch to stop him from snatching her phone. “What is that even supposed to mean?!”

“It means,” he huffed, cheeks puffing out again, pouting at his loss. “That if you want seafood, you should just ask me to make it, and not order from some overpriced restaurant.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she giggled, clutching her phone to her chest as she readjusted, sitting up on the couch once more. “But I don’t want you to cook right now when your wrists hurt.”

“I wouldn’t cook anyways,” he grumbled, leaning back. A light began shining in his eyes, and the corners of his lips turned up in mischief. “Unless you asked very nicely.”

She hummed, choosing not to acknowledge him. Instead, she scrolled through the delivery options on her phone, reading them off to see his reaction.

“Pasta?”

“Are you kidding? It’ll make me too sleepy to keep painting.”

“Soup?”

“That’s hardly filling.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “What about curry? There’s a place that does really nice Thai curry.”

He narrowed his eyes, nose wrinkling. “Fine, if it makes you happy.”

“You have to eat it, too, Rafayel,” she pointed out. “You are going to eat it. Right?”

He groaned, throwing his head back, draping his arm across his face. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

She beamed. “No.”

“Fine.”

She tried passing her phone to him, but he waved her off, turning to the side so he looked every bit the troubled damsel. “Choose whatever.”

“Are you sure?”

He sighed, long and drawn out, like the wind whistling across ocean waves. “Yes, I’m sure. Just make sure it’s a red curry, and make sure it’s not too spicy.”

She had to bite back a smirk as he continued listing off his preferences. He wanted to pay extra for shrimp, he wanted jasmine rice not white rice, he wanted one made with coconut milk if they had it.

“Anything else?” She asked, hovering her finger over the ‘order’ button.

He peaked up from beneath his arm. “Don’t forget to order something for yourself, too. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Hey.” She pouted, wrinkling her nose to mimic him. “You’re the one who didn’t even eat breakfast.”

He shrugged. “I was hard at work chasing my inspiration. What’s your excuse?”

“I did eat breakfast.”

“Good, and now you can eat lunch.” He reached out to tap her phone screen. “Order something for yourself, I’ll pay.”

At that she balked, her stomach roiling; she hated making people spend money on her, hated being an inconvenience, a burden. “That’s okay, Rafayel. You’re the one who’s hurt, I don’t want you to waste your money on…”

The glare he fixed her with was sharp as his daggers, hot as flame. She felt her skin warm, burn beneath the force of it.

“It’s not a waste,” he said, his tone a proclamation, an insistence buoyed by sparks that billowed into fire as they caught on kindling.

“I-” She was a little dazed, speechless in the face of the sting in his tone.

He drew in a deep breath, sighed slowly, his expression slowly softening, the lines around his eyes fading. “If you expect me to eat, then you have to eat, too. You need your energy just as much as I do.”

She hummed, trying to discern whether he was teasing her or being genuine. “Why? Are you planning something?”

His smile turned wry. “Who knows? Maybe I had something planned once I finished this painting.” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “Although that probably won’t happen now, since I’ll never finish the painting.”

“You’ll finish your painting,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, you’re acting like you’re going to lose your hands.”

“And what if I am?” He whined. “You’ll have to hand-feed me my lunch. You’ll have to move in to take care of me.”

“Wow, I’m so honoured you’d want me to live with you just to take care of you,” she said, tone dry.

“Well there might be other reasons, too.” His smile was infuriating, smug and enigmatic at once. “But that would be my excuse.”

“I’m touched.”

He rolled his eyes, making another grab for her phone. “Just hurry up and order, I feel like a fish drying up on the beach.”

She snorted, quickly tapping in what she wanted and hitting ‘order.’

“There,” she said, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “At least I can make sure you’ll eat something.”

He tipped his head to the side, propping it up with his fist. “You know, if you’re that worried about me eating, you should come over more often to remind me. And bring me my favourite snacks.”

“I already stock your favourite snacks at home,” she said, ignoring the way her heart fluttered, fast as the beat of hummingbird wings, at how the light touched his eyes, how his bangs fell over his brow, half-covering one eye. His hair was soft, she knew it was, and her fingers tingled with the sudden need to touch it, to smooth it back.

“Yes, but you don’t bring them over,” he countered, brows rising. “How am I supposed to eat them when they’re at your house?”

“I gave you a key,” she reminded him. She gave him a light kick, earning a feigned huff of pain. “You’re in my house more than I am.”

The corners of his lips turned down, a waning crescent moon lost in the indigo sea of the night. “Well you should come over here more. Maybe it will convince me to keep more food in the house.”

“And if I ask very nicely, will you cook too?” She parroted his words from earlier back at him, even as fluttering wingbeats swooped in her belly and embers caught on the pyres beneath her skin.

“Maybe,” he hedged, his lips quivering, like he was trying to hold back his smile. “If I don’t lose my hands before then.”

“Here,” she leaned forward, holding her hands. “Give me one of your hands.”

“You’re not going to do something weird to it, are you?” He sounded dubious, but he gave her one of his hands, settling it between her two cupped palms.

It was so much larger than hers, dwarfing both her hands in comparison. She swallowed, butterfly wings forcefully fluttering against the borders of her body, trying to escape.

“Yes, I plan to steal the artistic talent from your hands,” she teased, ignoring the cascade of wings, the rise of heat in her chest. She slid her fingers to his wrist, gently pressing her thumbs into the spaces between the joints at the centre, feeling the flit of his own pulse. “I’m going to be the famous painter now, and you can protect me.”

“Don’t know how much protecting I’ll be able to do with useless hands.” Now he was smiling, his eyes bright, the blue seeming to deepen, a blue like ocean tides. “But I can certainly try my best.”

She started with small circles, pressing them gently into the middle of his wrist, pausing frequently to make sure he was comfortable, that she wasn’t hurting him.

“You know you should probably do wrist and hand exercises,” she mused, sliding her thumbs to the sides of his wrist, repeating the same small circles at the sides. “I think you can find some online if you look. And you should rest more often and do some stretches.”

Rafayel scoffed, although it sounded weak, strained. When she looked up he was steadfastly staring at the ceiling, his lips pulled into a pout.

“I mean it,” she continued, sketching her fingertips over the back of his hand. “If you don’t, you really are going to lose your hands! And then you won’t ever be able to paint again.”

“Oh please.” He pouted harder, lines creasing between his brows. He tilted his head back more, although she could feel his gaze on her, watching her careful ministrations.

“No it’s true.” It was difficult, holding back her smile, and she had to lower her head, letting her bangs act as a veil between her face and his searching eyes. “When pain like this gets too extreme they just chop people’s hands right off.”

She could feel as he shifted, as he leaned towards her, and she could only imagine the narrowing of his eyes, the jut of his lip from his pout.

“No it’s not,” he said, but there was hesitation in his voice.

She only hummed in response, pressing her thumbs over each individual finger bone, delicately adding pressure and sliding up towards his wrist. His skin was soft, and warm, and she could feel the small calluses on his hand from holding his paintbrush, and from what she could only assume was wielding his daggers.

The roughness was strange, at odds with the softness of his skin, and her mind wandered each time her fingers brushed against one, remembering the feel of his palm against her cheek, the back of her neck, against her own palm whenever he took her hand.

It was far too easy to get distracted, for her thoughts to melt away and heat to billow in her chest and belly, from the storm of flitting gossamer wings, from the rush of her beating heart, from the lingering smell of cologne underneath the sting of the smell of paint.

“I guess this is it for me,” he groaned, flopping backwards again. Now she did look up, snorting in laughter as he tossed his free arm over his face again, slumping against the couch like a ragdoll.

Focusing on his dramatics made it easier to ignore the nonsensical thoughts rising like a wave, threatening to crash over her. She could feel her senses drifting away, caught in his undertow and whisked out to sea. There was only Rafayel, and the weight of his hand in hers, and the smell of him, and the song of his voice.

But it was his words, and his melodrama, that fell like an anchor, holding her in place where she would have been lost in the ocean of what was rising in her heart. And she held onto that anchor for dear life, knowing that if she slipped he would tease her relentlessly, an incessant waterfall of jokes and teasing that would leave her flustered and furious.

And then he would do something equally infuriating, like taking her face and kissing her stupid, until he was the only thing occupying her mind.

As if he wasn’t already the only thing occupying her mind.

Warmth was beginning to bloom in her cheeks, unfurling like wildflowers, one petal at a time. But Rafayel didn’t notice, or if he did he didn’t much care, too wrapped up in his whingeing.

“I’ll never be able to lift a paintbrush again,” he groused, back arching as he took a deep breath, then collapsing against the couch all over again. “I’ll have to make you paint everything for me, so my inspiration doesn’t go to waste.”

She arched a brow as she flipped his hand over, pressing her thumbs into the centre of his palm. His fingers curled over slightly, brushing against the backs of her hands, a shiver going through her at the touch.

It was only through sheer willpower was she able to keep her body steady, massaging circles into the very centre of his palm, slowly working towards the sides of his hand and down towards his fingers.

“What do you mean you’ll make me paint everything?” She asked. “I’m not the professional artist.”

“And who’s been adding those doodles in the corners of my sketchbook.”

She kept her focus trained on his hand, the weight of his gaze bearing down on her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“You can’t fool me.” He leaned forward, flicking her forehead with his free hand. “I’m not the one with seaweed for brains. I know it was you.”

She puffed out her cheeks, petulance growing like bubbles in her chest. “And what if it was?”

“It means you’ll be the one painting for me when I lose my hands. And it means you’ll have to spend more time here.”

Her lips lifted of their own accord, the rough peevishness replaced by a rose-stained warmth. It was golden sunshine seeping across the horizon, indigo bleeding into lavender and cerise. An excuse to spend more time with him, close at his side, was welcome as the dawn, as desired as sun-warmed waves foaming around her ankles.

He was always finding reasons to appear at her door unannounced, but she felt forever nervous whenever she considered visiting him. She did not want to distract him from his work, did not want to be a nuisance that took up space when he needed things in exact, particular ways as he created. She did not want to be needy, to be seen as clingy and desperate, her skin prickling at just the thought of him regarding her poorly, of scoffing at her and sending her away because he couldn’t deal with someone clinging to him at all hours of the day.

She was needy though, and she craved his presence, the feelings sticky as honey. It clung to her skin and the back of her throat, clogging her veins and the valves and pumps of her heart. With each breath she could feel it, pooling in her lungs, choking out the air, each intake of oxygen fruitless as she drowned in her own neediness.

She did not know what to say that would have hidden such things from view, so she hummed instead, massaging around his knuckles. If she spoke she would surely reveal herself, and the mess of her heart.

Rafayel clicked his tongue, oblivious to the riot of her mind, the disarray of her heart. “Although we would need to get you some art lessons; your understanding of colour is abysmal.”

She could not look up, her face burning now, as if he’d set her alight with his own flames. “You know they don’t actually chop your hands off,” she said, whisper-soft. She needed to focus, on the moment, on his theatrics, on his hand cradled between two of hers.

She was trying to help him, to take care of him as best she could. Not to melt into a puddle of yearning, her mind utterly bewitched by the touch of his hand.

“But you do have to take care of yourself more,” she said, louder now, more firm. She lowered his hand, beckoning for him to give her the other one. “If you don’t do stretches and exercises regularly there can be a lot of issues in the future. You won’t lose your hands, but it might become too difficult to hold a paintbrush.”

As she repeated the process all over again, starting with his wrist, slowly making her way around it before pressing the pads of her thumbs into the back of his hand, she could feel his body slumping back again. The cushions beneath them shifted, his free hand dangling over the side of the couch. He groaned, eyes squeezing closed as he shook his head. “Do I have to? Surely this is only a one-time thing.”

“Rafayel.” She said his name like a sigh, closing her own eyes. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I’m always worried about you.”

When she opened her eyes again his face had become a riot of colours, brilliant vermillion and deep carmine. Splatters of scarlet and crimson, of peach and strawberry, seeped across his face, vanishing beneath his hair. His eyes seemed all the brighter, the blue nearly drowning the red with its intensity. They were bright as gems, a vivid cerulean that she could have drowned in, lured into its depths by his siren song.

It took her breath away, made her own face burn, flames licking up her bones, racing along her veins, singeing her heart. Had she any further words to say, they were gone now, consumed by the heat of the fire in her cheeks, in the flush covering every inch of her body.

But it was Rafayel who spoke next, or tried to, anyways. He looked at the ceiling, at the wall, down at their joined hands. He cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair, letting it fall at odd angles as he looked up again, anywhere but at her.

“O-oh?” His chest rose, fell, eyes trailing over some detail she wasn’t focused on. All her focus was on him, even the stammer of his voice mesmerizing. She was enthralled, lost to him despite her best efforts.

He covered his cheek, still refusing to meet her gaze. “You-you worry about me all the time?”

She nodded. “I do.”

Like a switch being flipped, his eyes finally cut to hers, the red returning in a blaze of fire. His brows drew low, lines deepening between them. “Well maybe you should come over more often, then, and you wouldn’t have to worry.”

Had she said something wrong? “Rafayel, it’s not that I don’t want to think about you, I just want you to be okay.”

“Then you should come over more,” he said. Although his expression softened, his tone was no less insistent. “I’ll be okay as long as you’re here.”

The breath went out of her then, her heart thrumming so quickly she didn’t feel it at all.

She opened her mouth, not even sure what she would say, only that she had to say something, the taste of her own neediness in the back of her throat.

Only to jump at the ring of the doorbell.

She gasped from the suddenness of it, feeling wild as she jerked her head to the side, towards the door.

Rafayel swore, the hand she’d been holding suddenly gripping her own, like he was the one anchoring himself in a storm. “Hey, baby-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as loud raps cut through the air, severing the last strand of the spell they had woven.

Grumbling, he shoved himself to his feet. “I’ll get it!”

More loud raps, impatient.

“I said I’ll get it!”

She sat, stunned, watching as Rafayel vanished from the room. She was left with nothing but a tingling in her hands, the echo of his warmth beside her, and the smell of the paint drying on the canvas.

She stared down at her hands, where she’d cradled his only moments ago. Severed from her anchor, lost in a storm, the ocean carrying her far away to somewhere unknown. That moment had been like wine, heady and intoxicating, leaving her senseless. If the doorbell had not rang, what would she have said? Would she have told him? Would she have admitted to her need, her yearning for his presence?

She didn’t have a chance to wonder for long, a cold pop-can pressed against her burning cheek.

“Here,” Rafayel said, waiting for her to take it from his hand. “The food’s arrived.”

Quietly she nodded, taking the bag he offered her next.

Silence descended, a heavy mantle that stifled everything but the beat of her heart, so loud it pulsed in her ears, so insistent she could feel it in her fingertips.

It was even, rhythmic, the beat to a song she could not quite place.

He settled beside her, rifling through the takeout bags and divvying up the food.

“I meant it, you know,” he said, a knife slicing through the quiet, shattering the stained glass of the moment. “You should come over more.”

She fiddled with her food, daring a glance at him. “Why is that?”

A shrug. “For my health, and my art. And just because.”

She hummed, poking at her food. Her belly churned, her heart beating all the fiercer at the meaning hidden in his words.

He wanted to see her more, he wanted her near more.

She was so worried that he would see her as needy, as pathetic, and yet was he not admitting the same thing that she kept hidden? The need to be closer, to be near?

Only then did she understand; the song that her heart was a part of. That it was for him. That she wanted it to be for him. And if he wanted her close, and she wanted to be close, then couldn’t she let the song play until its final note?

“Rafayel?”

He arched a brow at the sound of his name, turning to look at her fully “Yes?”

Her heart was in her throat, each word another note, another part of the melody. She could taste the sweetness of it, like honey, but she did not fear it, did not feel it cloying her senses as she’d once been certain it would. “Then, could I come over again? Tomorrow?”

He blinked, a flicker like silver beneath waves in his eyes. Then he was smiling, wide and infuriatingly smug and utterly wonderful. “You really can’t wait to see me again, can you?”

She really couldn’t, giddiness bubbling golden-bright. “Maybe I just want to make sure you don’t push yourself too hard, and actually eat regularly.”

He snorted. “A likely story.” He paused, his eyes softening. “I’ll make sure things are ready for you, so you can come over whenever you want.”

“Won’t you get tired of me? If I come over all the time?” She scooted closer, a flower basking in the light of the sun.

Light as the breeze, his fingers brushed across her temple, slipping over her hair. “No, I could never be tired of you.”

He lowered his hand, sudden sharpness shooting through her face as he pinched her cheek. “So you’d better come over all the time, and you’d better not make me wait. And if you don’t then I’ll come find you.”

Laughing, she pushed his hand away. “I promise, I’ll come over all the time.”

His gaze burned, bright as flames for the briefest of moments before he leaned back, nodding once. “Good. And if my hands start hurting you can help me again, I already know what I want to paint next.”

“Okay.” She spoke softly, smiling down into her food, joy flickering like colourful tails beneath the waves, like sunlight across water.

Tomorrow spread before her, and all the tomorrows after that, as boundless as the sea. And perhaps she would lose herself, and she would be dragged away by the tide. But he would be with her, his smile, his laughter, his maddening teasing, and even the force of the ocean’s waves could not tear that away.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads rafayel #qi yu #rafayel love and deepspace #qi yu x mc #rafayel x mc #rafayel lads #message in a bottle

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lynk-zee · 7 days

Note

hello!! i love you writing btw and i have an idea, tmi but i’m currently facing an online perverted stalker (he got me feeling scared) so i was wondering how the LnD boys would react to a reader facing the same issue T^T

if you don’t want to write for all the boys, just xavier is enough! thank you so much if you do decide to write this

Knight

Dude, I’m so sorry this is happening to you :(. I’ve had a couple stalkers before, not fun at all. Hope you’re safe 🩷

Warning: Stalking

You don’t know how he got your number. At first, it was strange messages about your hair. How pretty you looked in the sun. If the pancakes you had at that cafe were good. And that maybe you should both get some sometime.

But…Who was this person texting you?

You’ve never texted back. But that didn’t deter him from texting you more.

I love the way your hunters uniform looks on you.

Have you eaten today?

You looked lonely on that walk..

You were a strong hunter, everyone knew that. But the fact he seemed to know everything going on in your life at every waking moment started scaring you. And the worst part is, you could never find that fucker.

No matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find a lead.Just people minding their own business. Was he tracking you? Was it your phone? But this was your work phone. So how was he stalking you—

“Are you alright?”

You looked up to see your boyfriend’s concerned face. He had taken you on a date to a local cafe for some coffee and egg tarts, but you seemed…distracted. Your fingers strummed anxiously, your bottom lip raw from how hard you’ve been biting it, and your eyes seem to dart this way and that looking for something. Scared of something. He’s never seen you so frightened before.

“Is something wrong?”

Do you tell him? Yes, he was your boyfriend, but he was so busy with work. And it’s just a stalker, you didn’t want him to think you were weak…

The sound of your ringtone made you jump. It was another text. From him. With a shaking hand, you pick up your phone and read it.

Bet he won’t make you cum like I would.

Hypersensitive to your feelings, Xavier snatched the phone away, eyes narrowing when he read the text.

“Who is this guy?”

You shake your head, signifying that you didn’t know. He scrolled up, scanning the countless texts this man has sent you, each one getting more and more graphic.

Xavier gets up abruptly, extending you his hand. “Let’s go.”

You nod, placing your hand in his, feeling just a bit safer as he guides you out the cafe with an arm around your shoulder. He takes you home, dropping you off at your apartment, pocketing your work phone. “Take tomorrow off. I’ll handle this.”

His tone leaves no room for debate so you can only nod and agree. Xavier’s countenance softens as he gives you a reassuring smile and leans over to kiss your forehead. “Don’t worry. Soon all these troubles will fade away like a bad dream.”

You had no choice but to trust him.

~~~

The next day, Xavier jumps through your balcony window after work, still in his Hunters uniform. Like a knight in shining armor. It startles you, but he only smiles, walking over in proud strides, greeting you with a kiss. “Hello, my love. You have nothing to worry about now.”

You give him a slightly skeptical look, but Xavier answers your confusion by placing your work phone in your hand. There was one notification. An apology from your ex-stalker. Tearing up with relief, you look into Xavier’s eyes, asking if it was true. He gives you a warm smile and nods.

“B-But how?”

“I have connections.” Xavier shrugs. “And access to things you don’t. But…Promise me that next time you’re having trouble that you’ll come to me for help? I can’t stand seeing you so scared…”

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him.

“Deal.”

#⭐️l&ds #☀️l&ds #love & deepsace x reader #xavier x reader #xavier lnd #xavier lad #xavier lads #xavier love and deepspace

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sylusheart · 4 days

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`let's talk about caleb/xia yizhou

i've decided to complie a (sort of) categorised list of all the theories so far regarding caleb's character/identity (and his possible importance to the story of lnds in the future) from posts i've gathered from other players here on tumblr, reddit, and on twt, including some of my own personal theories/questions that i haven't seen anyone speak about yet (to my knowledge) and wanna share, feel free to tell me your thoughts too! oh and please let me know if there’s any potential theories regarding caleb/xyz that i haven’t included in this list yet, i’ll be sure to add them as soon as i can :3 anywho~ let's start off a little simple... ૮˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ♡

ᰔ caleb will return

as a caleb girlie i have ruthlessly hunted around for anything and everything that i can find to support this idea (of course) but let's begin with some small details that a lot of people have noticed.

he's the first character to have a phone call with the mc, as well as a text message conversation. only the love interests have these types of interactions with mc so far so it sets him apart from the usual side characters. infold are clearly doing as much as they can to intergrate caleb into the mc's life, further signifying how much of an important character he is to the mc and to the story.

there's also many visual scenes of his character model doing all sorts of animations, not even tara or any of the other male side characters like thomas or jeremiah have this many (or at all). and yeah, most of these animations are probably just default ones which may also be the exact ones used for the boys but even so, why would infold put a lot of time in animating him (and his multiple changing expressions) if they were truly just going to kill him off seconds later?

his design was made as carefully as xavier, zayne, and rafayel's designs were - the proof of this is his original outfit. not too sure why they decided to change it (maybe it was too 'dark'? it might've been too much of a in-your-face hint that caleb would return as a possible antagonist?) but it was clear that they went through the effort of changing it for a reason... personally i love his og outfit more, it makes his necklace stand out more and he just looks so itty bitty scrunkly wunkly.

there's some other things i want to add. we know that mc gave caleb the 'when u come back' necklace before he left for skyhaven and after the explosion, caleb sort of 'returns' it. and by returns i mean when the explosion happens caleb's necklace is found right in front of her. with the engraving, it sort of foreshadows him coming back. now, to analyse the explosion a bit more, it happens very suddenly - like as soon as caleb goes into the house and closes the door. of course this makes it seem like he was affected by the explosion but how come caleb's necklace was found in one piece right in front of her? he was wearing it after all, so for it to be the only thing (other than caleb's... remains) in front of her makes it seems like him 'dropping/leaving' the necklace was kind of intentional. we see caleb using his gravitational/telekenisis-like evol in a segment of chapter 4 when he takes the necklace from her, so it makes sense for him to use it again when he's giving it back to her, right? adding onto this little theory about caleb using his evol in the explosion, mc was pretty close to the house when it exploded but is quite far from it after the explosion. now obviously this is due to the explosion blasting her back, but i did see someone mention that caleb possibily used his evol to push her away so that the explosion wouldn't severly hurt her. this makes sense, seeing as she was only slightly injured from the explosion, nothing too serious. but then again, we don't know the true extent of caleb's evol, is he powerful enough to be able to do that? i wouldn't put it past him though, seeing as he is a deepspace pilot and i'm sure he uses his evol for work which means he must've been training with it. going back to my previous point about him using his evol to intefere with the explosion, if he really did push mc away then it's possible he managed to keep himself safe from the explosion using his evol too. but if he managed to get himself and mc to safety then what about grandma? with her condition it's probably not possible that she managed to escape on her own and we don't know whether during that time where caleb and mc were outside if she was still in the house or not. could she have been kidnapped? i'll add more about what i think about the relationship between grandma and caleb further down in another section...

and who exactly was that guy that injured mc in early chapter 4 before caleb found her? from what we can gather with such little info we have, he could've been sent by sylus/onychinus or maybe even caleb himself. the attacker/random guy makes a comment which gives off the sense that he knows mc and this is probably because whoever sent him ordered the attacker guy to be a diversion and lure mc out of the house, via the wanderer/energy fluctuations. if caleb was the one who 'sent' this guy, why would he make that quip about avenging mc for that guy hurting her? is he keeping up with some sort of false façade so mc doesn't question his motives? it seems unlikely though... i think he was genuinely upset over seeing her get hurt and how she proceeded to lie about it to him.

another thing to add, the explosion doesn't go off as soon as caleb and mc are out of sight, this means that the aim wasn't to kill just the grandma but caleb too seeing as it happens as soon as caleb enters the house. but with this theory, it means he had no idea about the attack. in a way this all adds up, meaning that him using his evol to push mc out of safety was out of impulse. we can assume that an important part of the explosion was to ensure mc was kept alive, and this futher implies that the explosion could've been the work of onychinus or more specifically sylus. they're interested in finding the aether core after all (from what’s implied), but if it really was them, how would they know mc has it? only a few people like zayne, dr.noah, and grandma/joesphine (and also maybe xavier, jeremiah, and rafayel? it's not too certain in this timeline...) know that mc's heart is infused with the aether core. i do have a feeling caleb knows as well, it just makes sense as he’s the ‘older brother’ figure so he must know certain ‘family matters’, but then again as caleb is so secretive we don’t have a concrete answer on what he does and doesn’t know which is what makes him suspicious. could he be the one who potentially/accidentally implied or informed sylus/onychinus about the aether core having to do something with mc? is that why he faked his death, so that they’d assume caleb and mc were the ones in the explosion and not caleb and grandma? i’ll also make a seperate post on sylus seeing as there's one month left until he will be officially introduced (i am so very excited) as he’s after the aether core (perhaps he was the one that put it into mc’s heart in the first place? or he created it?)

back to caleb, him 'losing' his necklace admist the explosion is almost like him letting go to his past self (?) is he going to use this explosion as some sort of... rebirth or character development? will he let go of his soft, puppy-like persona? it sounds like a bit of a stretch but i do think he has something shady going on. maybe letting go of the necklace is like letting go of the 'big brother' title so that he can return into mc's life as a love interest and not as an older sibling-like figure. i think caleb tries to show us that he's upset mc still see's him as a 'brother' just because they grew up together. comments are thrown around, like how she should just trust him now that they're grown up and how they're not little kids anymore - this all makes it seem like they don't have to keep seeing each other like they're siblings and that they're mature enough to articulate their feelings.

ᰔ caleb's 'arguement' with mc was forced/intentional

so there's a part in the beginning of chapter 4 where caleb informs grandma and mc that he submitted an application for a long-term care ward for grandma (did he do this to keep grandma out of the way? knowing that she could interfere?) mc is suprised about this, as is joesphine (grandma) and when mc asks him why he didn't say anything to her about it all he does is laugh and look away - brushing it off. later on, when mc decides to hide/lie about the fact that she got attacked by someone caleb gets quite defensive and hurt over her not telling him about it. in the moment, mc doesn't mention the fact that he has kept things from her too (such as the care ward thing) probably because it slipped her mind due to caleb reacting the way he did, or because if she did mention his hypocrisy, it would probably make things worse or end a little more bitterly than it did.

however, we know (from the phone call with caleb at end of chapter 1, as well as a part in chapter 4) that these two are aware that they both tend to keep things from each other. claiming it to be 'top-secret' or 'classified information', but then again this is to do with work related sort of stuff - getting hurt by some random dude on the street or submitting an application to a care ward isn't exactly associated with their positions as a hunter/pilot.

i think it's pretty obvious that the reason caleb joined mc when she left to search for wanderers wasn't because he needed to collect some groceries. if you want some visual proof - when he confronts mc he isn't holding any grocercy bags or anything, nor does he bother making a joke about how the store didn't have any of the things she requested or how he forgot to bring his card with him, and that's probably because he wasn't gonna bother keeping up that act seeing as mc had already caught onto it when she told him not to follow her. again, mc doesn't point out any of this and maybe it's because she's too caught up with the emotions in the conversation or maybe it’s because caleb’s reaction/behaviour is sorta making her feel guilty and in the wrong.

so why did caleb follow her? was it because he wanted to speak with her alone? it was clear he had something on his mind before he hesitated (more on that later) or was it because he needed to buy some time so that the 'bomb' could be placed and set off? anyway, the reason why i'm suggesting the 'arguement' was forced is because maybe caleb wanted mc to despise him so that she would be less hurt over his 'death'? or that when he returns she'd forgive him instantly because she would regret the way things ended before his 'death'... i'm not too sure on the reason, but the way he went about the situation was kiiinda suspect, like he was purposefully trying to rile up emotions.

ᰔ caleb the villain

do i think caleb will return as an antagonist? yep. and if you think about it, like reaaaally think about it, it makes a lot of sense because why would he need to fake his death in the first place if not for something shady. no deepspace pilot needs to be doing all of that. but if, for some reason, he stays dead (... guys c'mon he won't trust me) then he merely was just a civillian that fell victim to a wanderer-associated explosion. not a shred of evil in his soul. i’ll add more onto the idea of evil/dark caleb later but for now i'm going to expand more on this in the section below~

ᰔ caleb is (not) sylus?

i've seen a lot of players debate over the idea of the shadowy figure at the end of chapter 8 being either caleb or sylus... or both? personally, voice wise (english voiceover) ... i think they're pretty similar. i haven't compared both mysterious guy and caleb's voice in the other languages yet, but if all the other voiceovers had similar caleb's and sylus' i'd assume more people would've put more attention on that, as that would sort of be a little bit of confirmation that the similar sounding voices were intentional or something. but still, it wouldn't be enough. now appearance wise, i also think they look quite alike. yes, the hairstyles are different but if caleb really did fake his death then he'd change up his appearance and embody a sort of new persona, right? i mean he'd still be the same caleb we love and know, but i feel like there would just be a new aura to him. i saw another player saying that perhaps the chapter 8 guy probably is caleb but with his face surgically modified due to the explosion which sounds like a really good theory, seeing as these brightened photos of the mysterious guy just looks like a more sharper/defined version of caleb's puppy-like face.

a lot of other players also said that the mysterious guy might be thomas, as it would make sense for rafayel to be talking to thomas but i really think that's not the case. now do i think caleb is sylus? maybe. but truly, i think caleb is most likely just working closely with sylus/onychinus meaning that sylus and caleb are in fact two different people (perhaps they’re actually twins or related somehow??)

however, after chapter 8 came out and the devs made this post on weibo:

a lot of people took this in as confirmation that the mysterious guy from chapter 8 was not in fact sylus. so could it be caleb instead? but then that would go against the theory of caleb being sylus, seeing as this post says that sylus has not appeared yet... i'll go into more detail about all of this in my sylus post.

ᰔ the apple motif

a player pointed out that we're seeing some sort of re-telling of fairytales through the love interests, i.e. sleeping beauty, ice queen, the little mermaid, etc. and that caleb is the 'snow white' of this theory, you know, with the apple and all. i like this theory because it suggests mc being the knight in shining armour, having to save her boys. and i'm a little (very) curious on what sylus' fairytale would be too, or if he’ll be an iconic sort of villain/morally grey character like maleficent? i feel like we'll see more of these 'apples' throughout the story... even if caleb stays dead (he won't) also, kind of unrelated, but one of my favourite book series - which is sorta like a fairytale to begin with (it's called once upon a broken heart by stephanie garber, if you end up wanting to read it don't physically go and buy it/support the author... she's a z!onist, i can give you an epub file to the book so you can read it for free so that it doesn't give her any money lol) - has a character who's got a curse where his kisses are deadly, and if he kisses anyone who isn't his 'one true love' then they'll die. the thing is, he doesn't know who his 'one true love' is or if this person will even be someone he reciprocates feelings for. he surpresses his urges to kiss by eating these magical (?) apples and somehow it's enough for him to not go on a murdering spree. again, as this is off-topic and of course will most likely not happen, i'm mentioning this only because it'll be interesting to see if there's some sort of significance to why caleb likes apples so much? is it because mc likes them? we know that mc likes apples through a line she says to xavier in one of his memories:

but also when caleb steals the necklace mc got/made him and he mentions that it's in a style that she really likes. which is probably refering to the little apple pendant thingy? but yeah, maybe it has something to do with their childhood i'm not too sure. besides that, if you look closely in some scenes where mc is in her apartment you can see a framed picture/painting of an apple in her bedroom. did caleb give that to her? or was it commissioned?

ᰔ what's the beef between grandma and caleb?

so as far as we know, grandma took in mc and caleb. she was looking for mc and found her in an orphanage/foster home (?) and took her in because mc recognised her somehow despite all of the experiments she endured and the 'incident' (chronorift catastrophe) that happened in linkon city, i'm not too sure if we know how grandma found caleb (though if anyone knows where it may have been mentioned pls let me know), but for now let's assume they were taken in at around the same time or similar. if that were the case, then perhaps caleb was also a subject for the 'experiments' that joesphine and her colleagues were conducting. since mc has her memories wiped regarding that time, which was most likely due to her aether core or her evol, i think if caleb was truly a victim in these 'experiments' then maybe he might still have memory of this? though, why would he allow joesphine to take him in if he knew what she did/does? or maybe he was too young to understand anything and only later came to a realisation when he grew up - probably after finding some files/photos that tied joesphine to mc/himself before the 'incident'. we all know caleb is pretty secretive, so if he did find something out he would've not made it obvious. but then again, mc did tell zayne (i think, or maybe it was monologue) that there was barely any trace of joesphine's research/work around their (old) home. so if caleb did find something out, then it must've been from an outside source - and i get the feeling an outside source would be someone from the N109 zone.

whatever happened, i think grandma is weary of caleb, like she knows that he's been associating himself with the wrong kind of people or that he'll end up not being a constant in mc's life e.g. his sudden death (if it was planned/faked in the first place) which is why she entrusts mc to zayne instead of caleb. it seems that she really wants to match-make zayne and mc together - we know from her trying to get mc and zayne to have lunch together if she had to be placed into a hospital, and from her telling zayne to look after mc when she passes. maybe she actually knows more about zayne (and his past lives) than we think, which is why she's more reliant on leaving mc to zayne because she feels she knows more about him rather than caleb because as i said, she appears to be a bit skeptical of him. there's even a part in the 'world underneath' stories where she hesitates to say caleb's name, (maybe because that's not even his real name??) but that's to assume if she was even referring to caleb here:

ᰔ what was that flash of light that made caleb change his mind from explaining to mc?

i haven't seen anyone mention this i think but caleb seems to give up on what he was saying as soon as something flashes by. it's almost like he comes to a certain realisation as soon as this happens. he looks really sad and hurt, so what was he about to say? if you listen closely to chapter 4 segment 3 'within reach', the flash of light that passes by and is reflected on his face is acompanied by the sound of a car going past. he doesn't look at this car, but is he somehow reminded of zayne? as far as we know he's the only male love interest (other than rafayel, but caleb doesn't know rafayel... right?) that drives a car (he has multiple actually… rich daddy) and as well as this, doesn't zayne live close by to caleb's/mc's childhood home? (i'm not too sure on this, correct me if i'm wrong...) so it could actually be him. i assume that since lnds is set in the future - public transport would be much more advanced and faster than how it is now which is why many people would opt to use it more often rather than using personal vehicles, so it's possibile caleb could have recognised the sound/look of zayne's car? which is why he decided to put an end of the conversation there - being reminded of zayne and his position in mc’s life, probably thinking that zayne would be mc's first choice if she were to confide in someone. but of course, if that really was zayne we may never know. caleb sort of laughs/scoffs (?) to himself and looks down right after he pauses and the flash of light passes by. it's like he's coming to terms with something, maybe accepting the fact that in mc's eyes he'll always be seen as the 'brother' figure and he can't have what he really and truly wants. aaaand drumroll, this brings me to my next point...

ᰔ caleb and his relations with zayne

their designs are pretty similar, in fact they could even pass off as twins seeing as their hairstyles sort of just mirror each other. but no, i don't think they're actually related, though i do get the sense that there might be some sort of jealousy going on (?) maybe not so much from zayne's side but the way caleb says the line "even the world's busiest guy has to eat. i haven't seen him in a looong time. we should invite him over for dinner, right?" (in chapter 4 segment 1 'family') it sounds a bit... strange to me. the way he says it is like how one would challenge prey into enemy territory. but then again, i really think i'm just looking too far into it. caleb naturally has a spontaneous and joke-y way of talking anyway, so maybe it probably is nothing malicious, but give it a listen if you really want to.

we don't know caleb's exact age (yet) and i don't know if he'd be older or younger than zayne, but hopefully in the future there's more on what their relationship is like - seeing as they're almost like polar opposites, i feel like their dynamic would be fun to witness. i presume those two didn't keep in touch over text/call like how caleb does with mc, so it would be nice to see them finally interact after so long. even a flashback with mc, caleb, and zayne as kids would be good... i'm begging for anything at this point...

that's all i have for now, i'm probably missing a lot of potential lore that could help with these supposed theories because the only myth cards i've completed so far is zayne's foreseer myth. i think in the lumiere myth cards there was a bit about the 'incident/catastrophe' (?) but since i lost the 50/50 to raf i've been a bit pouty and haven't watched a reupload of it or anything (i really wanted his solar pair ok...) anywho, i'll perhaps edit/correct this as more of the story comes out or if you guys want me to add/change anything :3 thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed me rambling on about caleb. this is basically my manifestation post so that he comes home... we miss you xia yizhou. "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

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