A quiet place that opens after dusk, sitting on a road you don't remember taking, here the air hums and the coffee tastes like memories you never had but somehow feel yours.
This is where I collect wandering thoughts: stories, confessions, daydreams, and everything in between from love and deepspace, anime to BTS and books, Be sure not to lose yourself in the chaos. If you choose to stay, take a seat, pick a booth, see the menu, and hold onto your sanity. Listen to the quit and make sure you enjoy your stay.
Just.... don't stare out the dark window after midnight. And maybe sit with your back against it, and remember whatever is pressing against it Is Not Your Reflection
✦ ──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────── ✦
📜Menu
☕️Ｃａｎｄｌｅｌｉｇｈｔ Ｂｏｏｔｈ
Warm stories brewed slow served with soft ache or comfort
"Silence Between Us " (A Nanami Kento one shot)
"Fractured Reflection {Zayn×reader one shot}
His Reason, Hers {Sylus× reader one shot}
Muse {Rafayel oneshot}
From Me To You ( Sylus : Final Untold)
🪟Ｗｉｎｄｏｗ Ｓｅａｔ
Late-night thoughts, confessions, and a wondering imagination.
Sylus drabble (inspired by shared bliss card)
Lads men love language
🔧Ｂａｃｋ Ｂｏｏｔｈ (under revision)
Don't mind the scribbled notes on the table Fanfictions (WIP).
"Where Monsters Make Their Home " ~In the palm of his hands~ (A Suguro Geto fanfiction)
☆Chapter one
Echoes {A zayn× reader fanfiction}
🕰 ＳｔａｆｆＯｎｌｙ Ｄｏｏｒ
The red-lit back door, still locked (coming soon).
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Enjoy your stay🩷
If you get lost don't worry, most people who wander into Nightwell do...
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For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺
𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table.
cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing.
read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr
Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.
It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.
His hand tightened around yours.
“Dobro,” he said.
Another crash.
From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”
Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.
He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”
“More than people?”
“Depends on the people.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.
Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.
Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.
Do not say you're full.
And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.
You had asked what the soup incident was.
He had started to walk faster.
Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.
“Valko,” you said softly.
“Yes?”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm not shaking.”
“You are.”
“I’m containing myself.”
“From what?”
“Hereditary embarrassment.”
The door flew open.
A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.
A slow smile cut across her face.
“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”
Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.
“I changed once.”
“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”
His ears went red.
The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”
“Unfortunately,” Valko added.
“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”
“It isn't optional.”
“Because of me.”
You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.
Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.
Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”
Valko muttered, “We were.”
She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”
You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.
Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.
“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”
You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.
“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”
“I hear everything,” the old woman said.
Valko went still.
Milena smiled into her shoulder.
The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.
“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.
She, of course, ignored him.
Instead, she took your face between both hands.
Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.
“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”
“I eat,” Valko protested.
Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”
“That was taken out of context.”
“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.
Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.
Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”
Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”
No one listened to him.
You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.
“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.
Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.
The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.
Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”
“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”
Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”
Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.
Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.
Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.
“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.
You obeyed.
The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.
You chewed. Swallowed.
“It’s delicious.”
Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”
Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”
Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”
“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.
“No.”
“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”
The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.
“That was private.”
“You said it in the kitchen.”
“That makes it private.”
Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”
Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.
The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.
He had spoken of you here.
At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.
Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.
“He was always like this,” she said.
“Baba, please.”
“He was a strange child,” she said.
Valko groaned. “Please.”
“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.
“A dramatic child,” Luka said.
“A biting child,” Milena added.
Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”
“You looked biteable.”
“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”
There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.
You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.
He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.
There he was.
Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.
Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.
“Are you keeping him?”
The kitchen stopped.
Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.
Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”
“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”
His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.
You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.
Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.
His fingers closed around yours at once.
“I’d like to,” you said.
The house held itself still for half a breath.
Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.
“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”
Valko bowed his head.
His shoulders shook.
At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.
Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”
Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”
Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”
“For Valko?” you asked.
“For all of us.”
Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.
Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.
“That's just Valko,” Milena said.
“I am not a dog.”
“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”
Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.
A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.
You noticed on the fourth offering.
His family noticed on the first.
Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.
“Ah,” she said.
Valko froze.
It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.
“What?” he said.
“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”
Mika threw his head back.
You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”
He looked at the cake.
Then he looked at you.
His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.
Milena saw it.
Her teasing quieted.
For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.
Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”
Valko blinked. “Me?”
“Her.” Milena pointed at you.
Valko frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It has worked on you for years.”
You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.
She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.
Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”
The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.
For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.
“He likes you,” she said.
You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”
“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”
A laugh escaped you.
Milena folded her arms.
“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”
Your throat tightened.
From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”
Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”
“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”
Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”
You laughed softly.
She looked at you again, sharper now.
“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”
“The goat?”
“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”
You glanced back towards the kitchen.
He had asked if his laugh was strange.
Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.
You looked down.
“He didn’t need to worry,”
“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”
“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”
There it was.
The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.
“I’m not here to hurt him,”
“Most people aren’t, at first.”
“Milena.”
Milena’s gaze narrowed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.
“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”
Milena stared at you.
Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”
You looked down, caught.
She seemed satisfied. “Good.”
“Is that approval?”
“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”
“You were being difficult?”
“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”
When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.
His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”
Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”
“I’m not.”
“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”
He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”
You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”
“That was Baba.”
“Family consensus.”
His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“You were supposed to be intimidated.”
“By Mika?”
“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”
“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”
Valko sighed.
You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”
He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.
“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”
Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
His smile softened.
For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.
“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”
“I do”
“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”
He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.
“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”
Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.
“No.”
“Yes,”
“No photographs.”
“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.
Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”
Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”
He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”
You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.
“Sit,” she said.
Valko sat.
It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.
For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.
Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.
There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.
Each photograph was another small door.
You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.
At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.
“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.
You turned a page.
A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.
“Yes,” you said. “I do.”
He stared at you.
Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.
It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.
Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.
The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.
Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You looked at him. “For what?”'
“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”
“I like Milena.”
“That means she behaved.”
“She said she was being polite.”
He winced. “Then she liked you.”
You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.
Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.
She waved back.
Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”
“She loves you.”
“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”
“It’s a good one.”
He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”
The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.
You reached for him.
This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.
“I meant it,”
His eyes searched yours.
“For tonight?”
“For longer than that.”
He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.
Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”
Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”
You laughed.
He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright. Something almost boyish
“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.
You touched his cheek.
You touched his cheek.
Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.
There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.
this is so beautiful— i fell in love with all of him & all of hhis family. he feels so alive ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡
pairing: bf!Valko x gn!reader
synopsis: you wake up from a nightmare where valko disappeared, leaving you alone. thankfully, he's lying by your side when you wake up...
cw: fluff, hurt/comfort ig, petnames, established relationship
wc: 1.5k
a/n: yes this is my way of coping
Valko masterlist (wip!)
Valko was gone.
He had disappeared, seemingly without a trace.
You woke up to an unusually empty and cold bed. So you got up, searching the bathroom instead, calling out to him by the nickname you knew he secretly loved despite acting against it. But he was nowhere to be seen.
You tried calling him or sending him a text, but you couldn’t find his contact in your phone anymore.
So you tried social media, but you couldn't even find his account. Even after looking his username up.
The pit in your stomach only grew deeper and heavier as you rushed out of your bathroom, making your way to your entrance, throwing on the first pair of shoes you could find, grabbing your keys, and leaving. You noted the fact that his boots weren’t at your entrance anymore.
Arriving at his place, you walked up the luxurious modern driveway and pulled out the spare set of keys to his place he’d made for you. But the door didn’t open, or budge. The key didn’t even fit into the lock.
But in your panicked state of denial, you continue forcing the key into the hole, until the door opens from the other side.
You look up, expecting to be met with your 6’2 hunk of a boyfriend. Maybe in loungewear, with his glasses resting low on his nose, a book in hand.
Instead, an older woman looked at you with fear, disgust, and confusion all at once.
“Can I help you?” she asks condescendingly.
You stutter, still shocked.
“If you’re just going to stand there, then get off my property. I won’t hesitate to call the police.” she huffs.
Her property? What the hell was she talking about?
“Go on then.” she shoos you away, closing the heavy wooden door right in your face.
You remain standing there, baffled, before slowly turning around and looking at the cars in the driveway. Three sleek Mercedes’. And Valko’s jeep was nowhere in sight.
Your hands start trembling as you slowly make your way back to your own car. Shutting the door behind you once you sit in the driver’s seat, you pull out your phone again.
You decide to call his aunt. Surely she’d know where he was.
You sigh in relief once she picks up, and immediately ask her about Valko’s whereabouts, without even bothering to greet her properly.
She’s quiet on the other side of the line before speaking. “... Who?”
Your mouth falls agape ever so slightly, and your eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Valko. Do you know where he is? I’ve been trying to reach him all morning.”
She’s quiet again, but this time breaks her silence with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, did you hit your head? Who’s Valko?”
The hand holding your phone up to your ear falls in your lap, as tears start to well in your bottom eyelids.
Although you’re not on speaker, you can still faintly hear the sound of her voice.
“Y/N? Are you still there?” she questions, before laughing again. “I swear if this is another one of your pranks―”
You hang up before she can finish her sentence.
You stare down at your phone, and click on your camera roll.
There are no photos of him. There are no videos of him. Your album of him is gone.
Valko is gone.
Lost on what to do, you break down. The tears instantly stream down your face, hot and heavy. Your heartbroken sobs echo through your car. You fold in on yourself, leaning forward until your forehead rests against the steering wheel. The cries that rip out of your throat only get louder as you close your eyes, blinking the tears away.
The next thing you know, you’re in bed again. The sheets cling to your body due to the sweat rolling down your back. It’s humid, and sticky, and you feel as though you’re suffocating.
You immediately sit up and tear the covers off of you to catch your breath.
That’s when you realize… Valko. Where is he?
Your gaze drops down to your right.
There he is. Lying down with an arm propped behind his head, the other resting on his chest.
You nearly pounce on him, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders and shaking him awake.
“Valko! Come on, wake up, please―” you mutter, your voice raspy and broken as you start tearing up again.
But he doesn’t budge. You pray it’s just him being his usual heavy sleeper self, and continue trying to wake him up.
Eventually, he starts to stir, eyelashes fluttering open.
You stop your motion and stare down at him with wide eyes, and tear streaks adorning your cheeks.
Once his vision focuses and he takes in your appearance, he immediately sits up.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asks, large hands already moving to cup your face.
But the second you feel his warm touch again, the dam breaks and you sob even more. Your hands move to rest against his own, as you lean into his palms. “I―” you start but choke on your words.
His golden eyes dart back and forth between yours. “Hey, it’s okay, take your time. Use your words.”
You sniffle repeatedly, catching your breath. He continues wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, remaining silent.
Once you feel more calm, you speak up. “You were gone… you left–you left me.”
Now it’s his turn to frown, but he still says nothing.
“You left. Like you never even existed.” your breath hitches. “I tried calling you but I couldn’t find your contact on my phone—and there was an old rude lady living at your house, and I called auntie to ask about you and she was acting like she didn’t even know you.” you ramble, your words occasionally getting cut off with your sobs and voice cracks.
He lets out the breath he was holding before pulling you in. You immediately bury your face into his chest.
“I’m here, baby.” He whispered against your ear. “You hear my heartbeat? Smell me?” he presses kisses to your head. “I’m right here. Not goin’ anywhere.”
Pressing your ear to the spot right over his heart, you listen to it beat against his ribcage, focusing on the familiar and comforting rhythm. Your crying eventually ceases, and you’re left hiccuping and letting out deep breaths.
His hands continue caressing up and down your back until he feels you’ve really calmed down.
You’re the first to pull away, and you wipe your tears while staring down at your lap.
He notices how distant you look and cups your jaw with one hand to make you look up at him.
“Feelin’ better?” he asks, eyes unusually soft.
You slowly look up to meet his eyes and shrug.
“It was just a bad dream, ‘kay? I’m not leaving you.” He leans down, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Ever.”
Your eyes flutter shut as you lean up so your foreheads touch, and you breathe him in. You immediately bask in his warm, inviting scent that you swore could wake you up from a coma. “... Promise?”
“I promise.” he whispers against your skin, letting his words sink in.
You look up at him through your wet lashes. He stares down at you in silence, his eyes half-lidded, before slowly and carefully leaning down. You try to meet him halfway and lean into him as well, closing your eyes.
But instead of pressing his lips against your own, he swipes his tongue against the corner of your left eye, licking your tears away.
Your eyes snap back open and you stare at him in shock. “Valko.” you reprimand, yet your voice is soft and still exhausted.
He pulls back, and looks as though he’s deep in thought. “Salty.” he finally comments, the corners of his lips tilting into a smirk.
You continue to stare at him with parted lips. “... You’re gross.” you scoff.
But he’s quick to lean in and lick the tears from your other eye. You yelp, moving away and trying to push him off, giggling in the process.
His hands move to grab your waist, pushing you back against the mattress as he climbs on top of you.
You shield your face from him, arms coming up to hide it.
His fingers slip under your shirt to tickle your skin, making your defenses drop. He takes the opportunity to lean in again and lick an annoyingly long stripe up the side of your face, tracing the tear tracks on it.
Your laughter echoes through the bedroom as your legs start kicking up in all directions. “Valko, enough!”
He continues for a good two minutes before finally stopping. You’re caged between his biceps, staring up at him, while you try to catch your breath. He’s slightly winded too, and some of his hair has fallen on his forehead.
“... I love you.” he mutters.
Your heart squeezes painfully, and you cup his face with both hands, caressing his jawline. “I love you too.” you respond.
He leans down, lips finally pressing against your own.
Reminding you that he was real, present, and that nothing would ever change that.
pulled out from a private auction to discuss eoncore trades with onychinus, valko was not prepared to meet the infamous sylus with two toddlers clinging to his pant legs.
they’d done dealings before, and are on relatively good terms— the standard being: having had no major war between their factions and men— but he cannot still understand the inner workings of his business partner.
because when sylus leaves the room to answer a phone call, he wonders why in this planet would he leave his two children, vulnerable and defenseless, alone with a stranger.
valko worries for the children’s safety. especially this one named lucian, who balances himself on the edge of the seat’s headrest.
“you’ll fall.” he states, because it is a fact.
“no, won’t.” the sharply dressed little one replies just as assuredly. his new suit squeaks and threads strain under the unusual movements.
the other one, identical in features but not in behavior, sits on the very seat just below his brother. if lucian falls, lucian-two will be squished.
he is used to this, he tells himself.
watching pups in the pack play rough never bothered him, as it is a natural part of growth. essential for development. necessary for success. he used to believe that other children would benefit from the way a wolf is raised.
and yet, here he is at the edge of his seat— nails digging into the poor armrests as lucian wavers and wobbles on the beam, threatening the false sense of safety of his twin, who would not speak to him, and most definitely would not appreciate him moving him.
ready to leap and catch, should a wrong step emerge victorious.
even if he were to fall, valko should think not to worry.
as these ones smell different.
milk, blueberries, sweet cereal and cream. but beneath, fire and smoke, a distant field, a buried memory.
surely, they would be like their father. formidable, indestructible. too large to touch, too mythical to fathom.
the twin blinks sleepily at him. still refusing to speak. head lolling forward, out of his control.
surely…
“ah!” lucian’s foot slips. valko lurches.
lucian is snatched from his momentary free fall, and cradled into safe arms.
valko’s tongue knows no cage. “told you.”
lucian’s knows no manners, but sticks his tongue out at him cheekily. “bleh!”
valko tilts his head. amused.
“woosian,” finally, his twin speaks. peeking over the edge of the armrest to look at them. “be nice.”
“am nice!” lucian protests. in support valko grins and tickles his belly.
“he is.”
the little one gasps when he is acknowledged and bends his head back down to hide away.
“come on, little hatchling, i don’t bite.” valko says, placing lucian on his shoulder and leaning over to kyros slowly. “my name is valko.”
he places a finger on the upholstery, an olive branch.
the little one shifts on his knees and stares at the bejeweled hand— big, strong but not unsettling. slowly, he emerges and places his own fingers around it and shakes. “i kee-wo.”
“keewo?” valko’s chest blooms at the first sign of trust. something ancient and instinctive stirring in him that tells him now he must protect.
“no, kee-wo!”
“kee-ro?” valko tries again.
confirmation never comes.
“why have eews?” kyros asks instead. now having broken the wall, he begins to quickly forget he was even shy in the first place. he hovers his hands over his own head, where he sees the faint glow of phantom ears on this stranger’s head. “vakoo, why have eews?”
“you can see them?” he should worry. but he smiles broadly, fangs glimmering in delight. he made sure to use most of his active efforts to hide his true form when in public. and up until this point, he believed that he had a pretty good talent at looking unremarkable.
“ee-yors?” lucian scrambles in his arms, climbing a sturdy shoulder to get a closer look. “where, ee-yors?”
“mhm,” kyros stands on the chair now. he swishes his hips in a cute wiggle to visualize, “and taiw— wish wish.”
“like fox?!” lucian climbs and crawls over his new friend as if he were magnetic.
“hey!” valko yelps when the little ones circle him. one inspecting his tail closely while the other desperately tries to find it. “slow down! careful!”
he pauses his shuffling to watch kyros sniffing him. so… wolf-like and yet not.
intrigued, he asks. “what do you got?”
kyros sniffs the air in small snorts— like he’s congested but taking everything in still. “woofy.”
valko’s eyes widen at the simple conclusion. brows pinching, he thinks: these children are definitely different.
“ah! gotcha!” lucian squeals when he finally spots the faint glimmer of his tail. in an instant, the once hatchling transforms into a kitten, chasing a tail that refuses to be caught.
valko, contrary to the look on his face, revels in the discovery of other creatures that lurk in the dark. and that these very creatures, so different and yet so similar, can also thrive in the light.
he doesn’t know of the little ones’ evols, nor does he understand how they can see him as he truly is.
but the longer lucian lingers and scrambles to catch his tail or pet his ears— the more kyros sinks into the comfort of his presence and beams at the joy of his interactions; glows with a golden mist that brings clarity to illusion— the more certain small horns and wings begin to take form in their silhouettes.
and he understands now, that their father never left them defenseless in the first place.
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the solution was to move forward with Valko and stop at six, not give into some brats throwing temper tantrums over pixels
fuck all of you whiny crybabies who threw a fit over this and ruined things for others. get a fucking life if you were throwing fits over pixels, you miserable cunts 🖕
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Synopsis: Sylus has to leave for the war to ensure the two of you have a future and even though you don't want to let him go you know you have to, but you insist to have your way of communication Warnings: suggestive at the end, and I'm not quit satisfied with it but i couldn't stop myself so I hope you enjoy, I would love to hear your thoughts about it.
Ps: Maphie almost made a cameo, but I wanted to stick to the card a bit.
“Can I at least send you letters?“ Your voice came out shaky, hoarse.
He let out a shaky breath, his arms tight around you, his chin resting on the top of your head “I can't promise I'll be able to respond to them, it's too risky for you” his voice barely audible explained.
You tightened your arms even more around him, neither of you stopped dancing too scared that the moment would shatter and reality would take you away from each other if you did.
“Still” you sniffled softly “it'll put me at ease if I knew you received them”
His lips touched your temple “it'll put me at ease knowing you didn't forget about me too”
“I'll never do that” You looked up at him, your lips a mere breath away, and you leaned into him.
“I'll take a rain check on that kiss until I come back “ he announced at the last minute, stepping back and carrying his bag.
“I'll wait for you” You walked him to the door, not bothering to wipe your tears anymore. They'll come down again anyway.
He stepped outside, putting his hat atop his head, and your gaze held onto each other.
“Sylus … don't die”
“I'll be back” he gave you his signature smile, but the look in his eyes gave him away, he didnt want to leave either, but he had to, for the both of you. And you understood, you would have rathered the both of you to stick together, but once Sylus made up his mind, there was no changing it.
He turned around and disappeared into the night, and you just stood there not caring about the coldness that seeped deep into your bones until Violet had to drag you back inside and tuck you into bed.
You didn't bother telling her it was useless, that you won't get much sleep anyways, that you wouldn't be able to sleep with the half of your soul on the other end of the world amidst danger and no longer immortal.
The first letter was you asking him if he was safe, if he ate well, slept well, if he missed you as much as you missed him, if he felt like half of his soul has been ripped away.
The paper was stained with you tears but you assured him that he didn't need to worry about you, that you would be strong for him, you remembered tp use a fake ally of his that you agreed on to avoide suspicion, Skye, a distinguished fruit vendor.
It went un-answered as he warned you, still you didn't let that crush your morals, for a month you wrote him one everyday, telling him about the mundane events of your days, how the war affected the town and how even in his absence he made sure your will be safe from it, you told him about a dream you had about the two of you in an alternate universe where you worked as a hunter and him as the boss of a criminal place called the N109 zone and how you were in love there as you were here.
Every morning, you checked the newspaper and connected the dots of the mysterious man who tipped the balance of the war with his information network, and every night, you slept hugging the picture you took together.
And you kept your promise to him for managing his information network and your winery work.
Until your prayers were answered and he replied to you, well not replied per se he sent back your letters to you with Skye written at the bottom and a doodle of a… kitten?!.
And so your communication for 6 months has been like this. You, talking about everything and nothing, and him letting you know he reads everything with his doodles of various animals with different expressions and even annotating your words and signing Skye under your name.
Until one day it all stopped again, your letters weren't sent back, you assured yourself that he did it at first, maybe he was busy, or maybe it was too risky now and you kept your routine for a week, until Violet came running holding the newspaper with glee and announcing that the war Is finally over, your heart fell. Why wasn't he back then?
You snatched the paper to find that, indeed, it was over. You didn't feel the happiness you should have felt as you looked for any clue about the mysterious Informant.
No, you shook your head. He must be safe. He had to. Otherwise, what would be left for you? Of you?
You rushed to change your clothes and back your bag, clutching the photo of the two of you, you Knew you had to go yourself, find him.
You opened the door, and just as you were rushing out, you pumped into a wall.
You stepped back from the momentum and raised your head to see the wall… the man.
“Sylus” you whispered
He took off his hat and bowed “miss”
You couldn't believe your eyes, finally after 6 tortures months he was here, in front of you, safe
You touched his face with both hands to make sure you're not dreaming, your vision blurring, as you drew his features with your fingers, and he kept his head lowered in obedience as his eyes took their fill from you.
You flung yourself at him, and he wasted no time scooping you up and taking the kiss he was promised 6 months ago. Neither of you cared to stop as your breaths disappeared into each other.
You jolted at the melancholic music playing in the theatre. You looked around you to find that you were back in your world, your cheeks still damp. and heart racing.
A shaky breath drew your attention to the man beside you, Sylus was breathing hard, his eyebrows furrowed, probably startled by the memories he got back.
He didn't give you a chance to speak as he stood up sharply and carried you racing to his car outside, he made sure to put the seat belt on you and wasted no time in getting in himself and racing to his place.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, but your state was no better. The experience was too raw and personal, and you couldn't get yourself to say anything.
As soon as he scooped you out of the car, he was on you, mouth chasing whatever he could reach as he walked with wide strides to his bedroom, _your mouth, neck, chest_, he didn't let you go even as you two fell into the bed.
And you weren't any better yourself as you kissed him back with the same fervour. Your hands tugging at each other's clothes, the ripping sound echoing through the room.
You gasped “ You… forget …a about me “ you managed to say.
“I'm sorry” his voice was hoarse and raw “let me make it up to you” he said as he kneeled in front of you, each of your legs embraced by his huge hands in opposite directions.
And you just knew that there was no way you would be able to go to work tomorrow… from intuition…and experience.
Synopsis: a woman (you) has been hunting Rafayel's dreams.
Warnings: not proofread, suggestive, stalkerish behaviour.
A/N: If you decided to keep going then thank you so much, reblogs, comments, and hearts are much appreciated. Enjoy🩷
Delicate fingers trailed down his throat, slowly, light feather touches on the buttons of his shirt, her breath hit his skin, making him shudder, he tried to reach out to her, to hold her closer, to push her hair away and see her face, but he was utterly paralysed, his body wouldn't listen to him, like it wasn't his, all he could make out was a wave shaped birthmark on the top of her chest, and the ethereal colour of her irises holding his hostage, the rest of her was covered in shadows.
He could only watch as she crawled down his body, her hand following her trail, until she stopped between his thighs, his breath came out laboured, his cheeks flushed as she lifted her hands and…
He jumped at the shock of cold water poured down on his face, he looked around him in shock to find himself in the bedroom, on his bed that he was sleeping in and a pissed off Thomas with an empty glass in his hand looking down at him.
“The fuck Thomas” Rafayel was seething and not due to the droplets of water dropping down from his soaked hair and face.
“I have been trying to wake you up for an entirety, and why don't you answer your phone”
Rafayel looked at his phone on the nightstand to find that he had several missed calls and messages from Thomas
“Weird I didn't hear anything” he tried to sound guilty for the sake of Thomas “ what's so urgent anyways that you had to drown me “ he leaned back lazily.
Thomas's jaw looked like it was about to break from how hard he was clenching it “You had an exhibition that you should have attended, that I reminded you of hundred times”
“Oh” he was actually embarrassed about how he totally forgot about it.
“You haven't been yourself lately. You became more careless about work. You haven't given me a new painting even though you keep painting all day and wouldn't let me see your work"
“I'm sorry Thomas” Rafayel sighed because he was right, he wasn't himself lately, not since he started seeing that dream “it won't happen again, promise, i'll try harder”.
Thomas looked like he trusted him as much as he trusted a fish to grow wings and fly “ we have another exhibition tomorrow, you better be there, and you need to look at the final line up after… you take care of yourself or whatever”.
Rafayel frowned quizzically, Thomas looked down pointedely and he followed his line of sight.
“Oh”
“I'll go call and apologise to the people you pissed off yet again today” with that Thomas left.
Rafayel let out a pained sigh. It was too cold for another cold shower.
•°🌺°•
His wrist flicked in familiar directions, his brush knew the lines by muscle memory. Every stroke connected the lines together, creating a shape he knew by heart intimately now.
After he finishing he looked at the familiar feminine shape on the parchment, vague as he remembes it, her face covered by her hair, only her gentle gaze, and the wave shaped birthmark on the top of her chest. The rest of her was covered in shadows.
How he wished to see the rest of her only drove his frustration higher
His gaze shifted to the wall behind the painting covered in various paintings of the mysterious woman from his dreams, so much so that he didn't doubt it would soon fill the entire room. He could only draw her. Everything else dulled in comparison he drew her in his every painting, every scenery she was there, every colour she brough to life, and that's why he didn't give Thomas and new ones the idea of showing what felt so intimate to him to others didn't sit well with him. She was the muse that trapped him even though she was a figment of his dreams.
He wondered if he was descending into madness, or if he would if he kept seeing her so close yet so out of reach. Maybe it was some lumirian thing he doesn't know about, it's not even Ebb day anytime soon.
His phone rang, cutting into his train of thoughts, it was Thomas reminding him of a meeting he had to attend in half at 9pm
°•🌺•°
There were a few things that could get on Rafayel's nerves, Linkon traffic was in the top five on his list. He gazed outside the window of his car, drumming his fingers on the wheel when his heart stuttered.
“Now I'm definitely going insane” he muttered in astonishment, eyes wide because the woman hunting his dreams decided to hunt him in real life too.
There in the car next to him she was in the passenger seat gazing out the window and talking to whoever was driving next to her, smiling.
He never knew smiles could be so beautiful.
The traffic started moving and he panicked, he only found her, he didn't even know what he was doing as the car she was In started moving he only knew he couldn't lose her, not until he understood, not until he was sure he wasn't hallucinating.
Thomas was going to kill him for missing yet another important event but that was a problem for another time.
He didn't know he long he had been following her, he didn't know what he would do once she reached her destination, he didn't know anything, he just felt, and he felt he couldn't lose her now, not yet.
He ignored his phone buzzing, zeroing in on the car in front of him until it stopped in front of a residential building, she got off saying her goodbyes to whoever was inside, then she went inside the building, and he just stayed there, in his car, wondering what the hell was happening to him as his gaze stayed on the building notching the floor and the balcony of which the light turned on in
°•🌺•°
“And this has been happening to you since when?” Aunt Talia questioned
Rafayel felt his ears redden as he revealed what had been happening to him for six months to his aunt, even though he wasn't a shameful person this felt too intimate for him to share “ since the last Ebb day”
Aunt Talia nodded thoughtful “this makes sense”
“What Aunt Talia, don't leave me hanging” he urged.
“Well she's your mate” she said simply.
Rafayl felt his brain short circuit. "What?”
“Your mate” Aunt Talia said slower “when a person is your soul mate it means that they belong to you and you to them in feelings and sexu-
“I know what a mate is” he cut her off before she mortified him with sex ed talk “but isn't that like mythical?”
“Rare” she corrected “ but not mythical, it's just hasn't happened in the last..” she tilted her head thoughtfully “two hundred years”
Rafayel placed his face in his hands, only one thought swirled in his head, he Is utterly fucked.
"I can't wait to meet her" his aunt gushed
°•🌺•°
“She works at the hunter association, she doesn't do much other than going to work and out with friends occasionally, she is also single” the private detective summarised “ I also made you a copy of her daily schedule” he placed a paper and some photos on the table between them.
Rafayel gazed down at the photos from where he reclined casually on the sofa, he felt his blood simmer “did I tell you to take her photos?” He asked calmly.
“Well I thought you would like it”
“I don't pay you to think, I pay you to do, and do as I tell, unless you want this to be the last job you take” Rafayel's calm voice dropped as his gaze got intense, the idea of someone else having her photos, gazing at her didn't sit well with him, if he didn't need to make sure that she wasn't some kind of a trap set by the humans like they used to do to his kind he wouldn't have hired this fool to start with.
The man in front of him paled and stammered In an effort to apologise but Rafayel dismissed him picking his phone up he called Thomas telling him that they should hand out exclusive invitations to the hunters at the hunter association for the next exhibition.
“Out of the blue?” Thomas asked.
“They risk their lives everyday to save the city. It's only fair to do this much” Rafayl's excuse was ready and flawless “and it'll do good to our image too” he added.
“Well I'm glad that you started thinking about our image again, I'll take care of it”
°•🌺•°
Rafayel was certain now that he was losing it, he knew it when he took extra hour in the cold shower and extra hour choosing the perfect custom tailored suit from the many he ordered for this occasion alone, when he took extra care in styling his hair, and though his poker face was perfect from years of practice and fooling fool humans, he was having hard time not fidgeting, he kept his gaze on the door not hearing what the people around him said.
Many of the hunters arrived, it has been half an hour since the exhibition started and he didn't see you yet, he needs to think of what he will do if you didn't attend.
Just as he was about to think of a different method his heart stuttered, feeling you before he saw you.
His gaze drifted from the floor where a black heel padded the floor up to the black dress hugging feminine curves, his eyes stopped at the visible wave shaped birthmark from the low neckline then up to full red stained lips, and then he stopped at the mesmerising eyes that held him captive every night.
He didn't even realise that he stopped breathing until someone pumped into him.
The night went on and Rafayel could only watch you in astonishment, he didn't know that someone could be so ethereally beautiful, the way you talked, how your sound made him almost choke, your laugh that made the most famous sonatas sound dull in comparison and how you gazed at his paintings with wide admiring eyes that filled him with pride
He felt like an amateur artist waiting for praise, not the most famous artists in the decade, he felt like a teenager with a crush, not the hundred of decades old lumirian.
The night went on and he didn't take his eyes of you,trailing your path not even caring that someone might notice, until you stopped in front of a painting of the sea gazing so it so intently
After a few minutes of watching you watch it he finally found his voice as he stepped forward to stand next to you looking at the painting, or pretending to.
“It's in a small village near south”
You looked at him, him at you.
Then you gasped hands on your mouth, eyes wide like you have seen a ghost, and he swallowed at how even more beautiful you were up close, at how his paintings didn't do you justice, he believed nothing can.
He titled his head masking his emotions with playfulness “ jeez, what a way to tell a guy he looked ugly”
Your face reddened as you shook your head “n..no that's not it I'm sorry “
Adorable, he thought to himself, wanting to store your voice somewhere within his vacancy only, or better yet you was a thought he would dwell on later.
He chuckled “ it's okay I was joking”
You smiled so sweetly at him, his gaze dropped briefly to the birthmark on your chest and he clenched his hands tightly to refrain from reaching out to touch it. To touch you, to make sure you're real and not another vision to torment him.
“It's a beautiful painting,” you said.
“Is that so?”
“yes” you gazed at it “ there's something so mesmerising about the sea and this painting captured it so viscerally”
“If you like it that much then you can take it”
You turned your head to find him looking at you with an emotion that made your heart stutter more than it already was.
“what?”
“The painting” he ushered to it, not taking his eyes off you “it's yours, if you want it”
You laughed nervously “I'm sure only the artist can do that”
He smirked knowingly amused at how your eyes widened as the realization hit you.
“you’re..”
“Rafayel, pleased to make your acquaintance” he bowed his head lightly
You managed not to stammer this time “I'm sorry I'm not familiar with the art world that's why I didn't recognise you”.
“That's okay I don't really make appearance in public so you wouldn't have known me either way”
“Still this painting, I'm grateful for your offer but I can't accept it, we just met, you don't even know me”
“What's your name?”
You told him your name and it made sense to him, it was you. It fitted you so well like how he imagined you would fit in his life, how he would if yours.
“There now we know each other”
You hesitated biting your lower lip and drawing his gaze to it.
“Still it's to expensive I... I can't”
Like a predator laying a trap to his prey, he bounced at the moment you took the bait
“Then how about you work for me, that way it can be a part of your payment? I'll pay you handsomely, don't worry” he talked easily, almost like you were an old acquaintance discussing the weather.
“What kind of work?” you inquired with a curious frown
“Be my bodyguard, I'm a famous artist as you know I need protection and I have heard you hunters are best of the best”
You went quit for a moment and he was already having a million way on how to convince you to take the offer, so he can have you closer and keep getting you closer still.
“Okay”
He opened his mouth to tell you why working for him would be the best decision of your life until your response registered “wait really?”
“Yeah”
“Ok cool great uh..” he took out his phone feeling like a high-schoolar “then give me your number to contact you”
He watched as you typed your number doing mental victorious dances, now that he has an excuse to keep you close he won't stop at that.
“Then I'll wait for your call” you said handing him his phone back.
“Yeah I'll call you to tell you when to start, all you have to do is keep me safe”
You smiled but before you could say anything Tara intrupted as she walked to you saying that the exhibition has ended and you needed to go.
You looked around sure enough people were walking out, neither of you realized.
You said your goodbyes and walked away his eyes never left you.
You were wearing your coat, and Tara did the same she whispered “By this is him, do you mean the man that you have been dreaming about for six months is Rafayel? He is him?, THE RAFAYEL?!”
“Yes I was surprised at first but it's him, I know it , I know those eyes”
“Interesting” Tara giggled.
And Rafayel had to agree from where he was leaning behind a pillar next to the coat rack, interesting indeed.
He would be in a banquet or a mission and see a weapon he thinks would be better use than the hunter's weapons better keep you safe and buy it, or a gem at the auction that would complement that dress he bought you for your date and would immediately get it at the highest price, or even a limited edition plushy you talked about once and couldn't win it, be sure he would pull all the necessary strings to get it to you, not caring about what his acquaintance would think of the big bad N109 zone boss when they hear about his hunt for a plushie.
But also he loves quality time with you, it doesn't have to be extravagant, yes he enjoys spending his money, more than that he enjoys spending his money for you, but his tip priority Is being with you in which ever place you choose even if it was a free holiday and a night at some motel, he only wants your warmth in his arms and nothing else
❄️˚ 𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃 ˚ ❄️ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Words of affirmation and attentiveness
━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━
You try to act okay, you really do but he knows you too well, he notices the subtle changes about you, how you're more still than usual, how your eyes don't hold their usual sparkle , or how you didn't send him silly texts throughout the day. He won't pressure you to tell him, instead he'll be with you, using his dry humour to cheer you up, making sure you had proper meals, and took your medicine if there is any, he would sit next to you on the couch as you both watched some movie, he won't pressure you, he would be there with you through it, calling you his good girl.
If he wasn't so afraid of hurting you by losing control over his evol he would have definitely been a physical touch type of a man more than he already touches you, his words would translate to more touches, he would hold you endlessly for your and his sake.
₊˚⊹🍎 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒷 🍎⊹˚₊
Acts of service
━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━
It's no secret that Caleb has been taking care of you since you were young, he knows you like the palm of his hands, he enjoys cooking your favourite meals and watching you savour it, he loves catering to your needs before you even acknowledge them, maybe It's because you have grown up together or maybe it's his obsession with you that grew up with him, but Caleb's love is in doing.
𖤐 ✧･ﾟ 🧜♂️ 𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝑒𝓁 🌊 ･ﾟ✧ 𖤐
Quality time [playful time + shared Words]
━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━
This man is a fox in sheep's clothes, he has been watching you for far too long to know your habits and tics, and he knows how serious your life is, between missions and the hunter association you don't do anything else, nevertheless he liked to act gullible, though if you squinted you would see through his act. spending time with you is his favourite thing to do, and he aspires to make it fun too, by taking you on sudden trips making excuse of needing his miss body guard to protect him, or dragging you to jump with him in the water puddles, and when your giggles reaches his ears he knows he achieved something greater than he could ever have had in his sea God from. He also loves to gossip with you to take your mind off whatever is burdening you.
His love is in shared play and whispered secrets.
꒰ঌ ☀️ 𝒳𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓇 ໒꒱ ✧
grounding touch + quiet help
━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━
But he mainly likes whatever you like to be fair, you're his only person, and he claims he doesn't need any other human being, he loves doing anything as long as he gets to do it with you alone, and you enjoy it, but if you asked him about his favourite time, he would say it's when you sleep together and not in a sexual way even though he loves that too, but he just loves to lie in the bed with you, watching your asleep form as he slowly drifted to sleep himself while he held you close, he also insists on cooking for you, but he thinks you would disagree and can't figure out why.
For him love is as simple as you and him, alone, together.
A/N: This is solely from my prescriptive, you might be receiving something else from them and that's totally fine. Tbh I can see many types of love language for each of them but I tried to write about what stood the most to me, to not be repetitive. Hope you enjoy it and that I could convey it in the right words ❤️
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Context: Zayn is having a nightmare as Dawnbreaker
Zayn×reader, mention of Dawn breaker, you are married to Zayn, suggestive, mainly self-indulgent tbh, not proofread. I'm not entirely satisfied with it tbh but enjoy♡
The voice of your husband whimpering from next to you, at first you thought you were dreaming but he whimpered again and your eyes snapped open to find Zayn lying next to you on the bed, brows furrowed in distress, skin glistening with sweat as he fists the sheets between white knuckles his chest rising and falling in laboured breaths.
You shot up immediately heart thrumming against your chest in distress for your lover, you knew not to wake him up, you remember reading about it somewhere that it's dangerous to jolt someone who is having a night terror awake. So you brushed against his cheek brushing against the sweat there and trying to ground him.
"It's okay" you softly whispered not to scare him "It's just a nightmare" Your other hand drew soothing circles on his arm.
His breath came out shallow as his hands tightened on the sheet turning his knuckles impossibly white " I hurt you... no..."
You reached your hand to his fisted ones trying to gently make him relax them by rubbing them soothingly "You didn't, you would never, I'm okay, I'm here Zayn" You pressed your lips gently to his forehead " Listen to my voice" You hoped your voice would guide him somehow "We're safe baby"
His hand suddenly shot to you, and you couldn't help the yelp of surprise when you found yourself under him, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly almost painfully, his evol getting out of control as the temperature dropped and tendrils of ice started forming around you, inching toward your bodies
He kept whimpering incoherent words calling your name desperately.
"Baby" you breathed as his arms kept tightening around you, you knew you needed to reach him inside whatever he is trapped in, because he might actually hurt you without feeling it. You didn't want to think about it or how he would feel after instead you kept your calm and wrapped your arms around him like, palm running up and down his heaving back.
"Zayn, baby listen to my voice, I'm fine, so are you, we are in our house, in our bed safe and sound, if you can hear me focus on my voice, on my touch" You pressed a kiss to his ear.
Slowly but surely you felt that his grip started to relax, his breath less ragged and he stopped squirming. Tentatively as if afraid it might be an illusion he lifted his head, teary green eyes gazed down at yours, and the look in them broke you, guilt, fear and hope all battling in those mesmerising irises.
"It was just a bad dream" you repeated.
His throat popped up and down as his gaze raked your face "You're okay?" It was both a question and a confirmation at the same time, you nodded.
He sat up taking you with him, the fear that whatever he saw in that dream still holding him. As his gaze kept raking your body to make sure that you're okay as you claim.
His eyes widened when they fell on your wrist and he retreated, you followed his gaze to find the skin on your wrist where he held you was red with his fingerprints printed on it, soon it would be bluish.
"No, Zayn..
" I hurt you" He didn't even give you a chance to finish as he jumped out of the bed, stumbling out of the bedroom repeating that he hurt you.
You called out after him but it was like he was in his own world as he kept walking towards the door, understanding his intention you knew you couldn't let him go out in that state, where his evol wasn't stable and he could harm himself, so you snatched the keys from the table and taking advantage of your lighter body you sprinted and jumped between him and the door, you locked it using the keys and hid them behind your back.
"You're not going out there like that, you need to calm down " you said sternly.
He stumbled back from the door, from you, like it pained him to even be near you.
"Please, I can't... I'll hurt you .... I need " the moister in his eyes intensified as he struggled to gather words to make a coherent sentence.
"You would never " you shook your head, voice full of faith "It was just a bad dream Zayn, dreams don't become reality " you took a step forward and he took a step back.
Shaking his head "It wasn't... wasn't just a bad dream" he stumbled and fell on the couch, he'd hung down in shame, his hands covering his ears like he was trying to block something.
You felt your own tears moistening your cheeks, you wished you could take all his pain and reassure him.
"It was me... but wasn't " he started, voice barely above whisper like he was afraid to utter the words "I was killing people.....no monsters, I wasn't even called Zayn, I... was lonely, so cold,then you I met you and....I hurt you" he sobbed.
You didn't even think before you dropped the keys and crossed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him tightly, his head against your chest, he didn't hold you back, still hunted.
You brushed through his thick hair with your fingers, massaging his scalp soothingly
"I know it was scary, and I understand, but " you lifted his head to you catching his gaze " I'm only safe when you are holding me, whatever you saw wasn't real and will never be cause I know you would rather burn the world than see me hurt" Your voice was full of conviction and your gaze was determined to make him accept your words.
He licked his lips "but .. what if I was capable of it " his voice was hoarse.
You wiped the stains of his tears from his cheeks "Being capable of doing something doesn't mean you will actually do it"
His gaze was on you but his resolve was wavering, he wanted to believe you but was hesitant.
You straddled his lap and took his shaking arms to wrap them around you wanting him to feel you, to remind him what was real and what wasn't, he was tracking your every move like you were the answer to everything, like you were his magnum opus.
"I'm only in danger when you're by my side Doctor Zayn" You called him by his title to remind him that he saved lives and didn't take them "Dreams are just that, reality is what we decide.
He nodded, swallowing, and finally held you, gently like you were made of glass, his head fell to your chest as he buried it there, like he was hiding from all those dreams.
Your hand brushed his hair letting him soak in your words.
You don't know how long you have been sitting there, but you didn't dare move letting him have all the comfort he needed. When he finally lifted his head to look at you, your lips curved into a gentle smile, you could see his resolve breaking completely trusting your words as he looked at you like you're the oxygen in the air.
Before you could utter a word his lips caught yours and he kissed you like a man who and been lost in the desert for days without water or food and he found you, his source of nourishment, he didn't even break away once as he hungrily took everything you offered greedly until you had to beg him to give you a minute to breath and even then his mouth didn't leave you, latching onto each kart of you he could reach his hands following the same lead.
From that day the nightmares never truly left him but neither did you, you were always there to reassure him, take his mind off it and most importantly keep him from believing them, but you could still see their effects on him in the ways he always checked you for injuries, or how he always seemed to touch you and hold you throughout the day almost obsessively
You were freezing, everything was dark, but you didn't care to turn on the lights or the heater.
It has been three days since you didn't talk to anyone, since you didn't leave your room or bed. You just didn't have it in you to lift a muscle, you didn't want to socialise, and you were tired of pretending that you wanted to live to see the sunlight and yet you did, because you didn't know which was worse yet, living to see the sunlight or never seeing it again.
You haven't let yourself fall into this urge before, turning off everything and everyone and simply lying down in the darkness that matched your thoughts, was it comforting, was it draining, or both?
You stopped going to work, you turned off your phone and just lay under your mattress, hoping that the world would forget about you.
You have always been a bundle of emotions, a blue one at that, so much so that it triggered an autoimmune disease that added to the “why I never want to go out of bed “ mental list
But you know that even if the whole world let you be, pretended you never existed, and moved on, there's one person who will never.
Him.
Your heart almost stopped when you heard a movement outside your bedroom door, you clenched the sheets as your heart rhythm picked up dreading as the knob turned
He can't see you like this. Panicking you pulled the covers over your head pretending to be asleep hoping it would make him go away.
Footsteps neared your bed and you held your breath. The silence is as suffocating as the sheets on your head.
“And here I thought a kitten went and got herself into trouble, turns out she just went into hibernation” You heard his voice, standing above you but you held onto your act of sleeping.
“And now she's pretending to be asleep”.
A stretch of silence before you heard his feet move against the wood, still holding onto the hope he would leave, but you knew better.
“All this darkness sweetie are you trying to recreate the N109 zone theme in your apartment “ his words were followed by the window being opened letting sunlight filter into the room.
You didn't want him to see you in that state, but he won't leave until he sees you, so you reluctantly pull the sheets away from your face, sniffling and coughing “Hey, when did you get here” You rubbed the fake sleep out of your eyes.
“The moment you started pretending to be asleep” He smirked “Care to tell me why you have been ignoring me and Maphisto? He's very hurt you know and worried”
Your cheeks reddened as you made sure to keep the wet pillow covered with the mattress.
“I just caught a cold, I didn't want to infect you”.
He frowned as he knelt beside the bed “You think a little cold can scare me? “ he touched your face “It's a good thing you don't have a fever but you should have called me the moment you caught it, I can take care of you”
“It's okay I'm tough you know, I can take care of myself “You tried to smile hoping that he would think your red nose, red rimmed eyes, and pale complexion were just a consequence of the cold.
His frown deepened “You have lost weight, have you been eating and taking your meds?“
You bit your lips, you were a terrible liar and you couldn't lie to save your life in front of him “Yes?” It came out more as a question.
He sighed standing up “I'll make some soup for you and you'll finish all of it” he walked out of the room not waiting for an answer.
You sighed, your eyes falling on your reflection in the mirror and you weren't surprised to see that the last three days were evident on your skin and hair, you didn't have it in you to care about how you looked but you didn't want to worry him, so you dragged yourself to the bathroom, washing your face and teeth, you brushed your hair and changed into the first thing you found, a short red camisole, then you lied back in bed not yet having the strength nor courage to step out your bedroom.
It was sometimes before he came back with the soup and spoon-fed you the whole bowl, then made sure you took your autoimmune disease medicine, he didn't berate you for neglecting them.
His fingers brushed your hair softly as his red eyes held yours “ How about a change of scenery ?”
You clenched the sheets.
“Maybe fresh air will help, how about we sit on that chair there, hm?” he suggested as if talking to a child
You looked at the chair in front of your balcony and sighed relieved he wasn't suggesting going out. You nodded.
He smiled gently at you as he stood up and carried your weight with one hand like you weight nothing, walking to the chair where he sat down with you in his lap.
You sighed at the warmth that enveloped you, something you thought you would never feel again in the past three days, you curled onto him, head buried in his neck, legs folded over his thighs, and hands holding on to his shirt.
One hand of his was brushing through your hair soothingly while the other drew circles on your hip. His breath fanned the top of your head.
“Do you feel pain anywhere?” he murmured voice laced with worry.
You started to deny but he cut you off “You don't have to hide your pain with me, I know you can take care of yourself but I want to to care of you"
You fell silent, throat clogged, neglecting your medicine for three days certainly had its effect and your pain flared. You didn't notice it before but now that he was here it was noticeable.
“my waist” you murmured.
He hummed, his hand moving from your hip to your waist almost covering the entirety of it with his palm as he started kneading the muscles and flesh there with expert fingers, you instantly melted more into him, and his other hand wrapped around you in a tight hold.
“You know” he started “I'm not good at taking care of sick people, but I can take care of whoever made you feel like this”
You froze, he knew, of course he did, despite the short period you spent together he knew you better than you did yourself. Tears bricked the corners of your eyes as you lifted your head meeting crimson eyes full of love and devotion.
“What if it was myself?” you whispered.
“Then I'll be here every day to remind her how beautiful, loved and treasured she is” he caressed your cheek “ how there's someone who is ready to lay his life for her, and how her smile makes him forget about all the blackness of the world”
Your tears were flowing freely now, and as you looked at him guilt at you away, at how you ever thought you could push him away, that you could be without him.
“I'm sorry_
“Shush, never” his forehead rested on your nose touching “You never apologise to me, or anyone, I'll bring the world to your feet if you say so” he whispered reverently.
Your breath mingled and the only answer you could give him was pressing your lips to his, he didn't hesitate as his tongue invaded your mouth with fire and devotion that you matched with your own.
The darkness in you slept for now and as he took your breath away you wondered if the reason you fought till today was him and not the sunlight, you sure knew it would be for him from now on, as you were his reason, he is yours.
A/N: I don't know why Sylus brings me ideas without even trying lol, I had this idea for all of them tbh, but it would have been too long since I'm a sucker for details 😅, and Sylus's just made it for me and gave me the inspiration and push I needed, maybe I will make a version for each LI- if you would like that tell me. Hope you enjoyed this 💞and I know it's a bit heavy sorry I hope it wasn't too much ♥️
