The Maiden's Shop

As you absentmindedly braided her hair that night, you wondered if it was your bad luck or good grace that he'd been killed in a riot in jail. When the penitentiary had phoned for you to come and identify his body, you'd been scared.

Scared that it wouldn't be him and the bastard would've cheated death itself.

You decided there was no need for your daughter to ever know what kind of person her father was. But as she grew older and the neighbors' kids started talking, it was clearly affecting her more than you'd realized.

"Hey, Bun" You softly turned her to face you "Do you miss Daddy?"

Her eyes widened like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar before she hid her hands behind her back, shoulders drooping "No.."

"It's okay if you do" You reassured her. You couldn't blame her for feeling left out when she watched all the little kids get picked up by both their parents. It was obvious she'd wonder why she didn't have that.

You weighed your options. If you played it right, you could satisfy her and also keep her in the dark at the same time.

"Would you like to write him a letter?"

Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw how instantly she bloomed in joy, nodding vigorously and trying to escape your hold so she could do it immediately. You stopped her, promised you'd help her write it the next day if she went to bed at once.

Three days after she posted her letter, you brought one home with a flourish, telling her that her father had written back after all!

If the little lie you told was the reason your daughter had the dopiest smile on her face, you'd never feel guilty for it ever again. Especially not as you tucked her into bed that night, her little fist still clutching the letter like it was her lifeline.

It was only a few days later that you felt your heartbeat nearly triple when she rushed into the house, clutching a blood red envelope "Mommy! Mommy look!" You'd been folding laundry when she barreled into your legs "Daddy wrote letter again!"

You didn't mean to, but you snatched the letter from between her hands so fast, it startled her. Lower lip wobbling, you saw the tears well up in her eyes and immediately decided to do damage control.

"Daddy said I should only give you this letter if you freshen up for dinner quickly!"

When your daughter turned and sprinted for the bathroom, you couldn't believe it had worked. Abandoning the laundry, you tore the envelope open and started reading.

You stared in disbelief. Sure, you had really posted the letter to the penitentiary when your daughter had insisted to take it all the way to the post office herself. You'd come up with a random serial number on the spot and figured they'd just toss the letter when they realized there was no one with that number on the roster.

My dearest Princess,

Daddy very much misses you as well. I'm always thinking of my precious daughter.

P.S You are very good at drawing! I'm proud of you.

Love,

Daddy

Not only had someone received her letter...they'd also written back? In character?

The obvious conclusion is that it's an accident. An obvious mix-up. But your daughter is so ecstatic, you can't possibly break her heart like this.

So, you let her write a letter back. Again going to the post office and posting it.

When the third letter comes back from the prison, you decide to take matters in your own hands. Writing a little letter of your own and enclosing it with your daughter's drawings.

I really appreciate you humoring my daughter, but this was just a way to cope since her father is dead. There is no need to keep up with the farce.

I don't mind it. I quite enjoy her little sketches of the three of us. Tell her that Daddy's hair is lighter in color (:

I will not be telling her anything of the sort.

So cutthroat. You wound me, darling.

Despite yourself, you found your lips lifting at his words, but you caught yourself in record time, shoving the little note in your jeans as you quickly skimmed over his letter to your daughter before you deemed it okay to hand it to her.

She squealed with delight, clutching her new bunny by the ear as she thundered down to her room to read her letter in "secret". You watched her go till she was out of sight, still staring after her and wondering if it really was a bad idea to exchange harmless letters. If some bored criminal wanted to play house with your daughter over some letters, was there really any real danger to it?

You'd always check the letter she'd write, illegible as it was, to see if she didn't accidentally reveal any information about herself. And after she'd go to sleep, you'd only change one little thing.

Erasing her name at the bottom, you used your non-dominant hand to sign a pet name. Not once had you let your daughter's letters carry her real name over to a criminal. For the sake of her mental health, you'd allowed the letters, but this was non-negotiable to you.

Like clockwork, every Tuesday his letter arrives, you skim the contents before re-sealing it and handing it over to your daughter when she comes home from pre-school. Subsequently, you post her letter every Wednesday evening, using an address that was four blocks away from yours, belonging to the sweetest old lady who lived by herself and had dementia. You felt horrible taking advantage of the fact that she never checked her mail so you could always just conveniently swipe out the letters from her mailbox, but you brought her enough baked goods to make up for it. The letters you sent were just addressed to the penitentiary; with the serial number of an inmate you'd never know the owner of.

He signed his letters Skye but after having lived a life in hiding with a criminal, you'd learned not to trust the lot. If your daughter's deteriorating mental state hadn't been in question, the first letter would've never gone out.

One Tuesday evening, your daughter pulls at your pants to grab your attention and gives you a tiny note that she says is from Daddy. Your senses immediately go on high alert, wondering how you could've missed it, worrying he's said something inexcusable and you would have to stop this little pen pal relationship.

Am I not allowed to know what my daughter looks like?

You feel a vein throbbing in your forehead, smiling at your daughter as she stares at you with her big doe-like eyes before you distract her with a snack.

If he wants to know what your daughter looked like, he would do something crazy like wanting to meet her if he ever got out. And if that wasn't bad, he'd probably kidnap her or do something inane, maybe he was already plotting it. Feeling your heart drop to your chest, you decide it really was the end.

That week, you don't send your daughter's letter. It remains in an unmarked envelope, hidden on the top shelf of your closet in a big box at the very back. The Wednesday of the week after, you wake up in cold sweat wondering if he sent a letter anyway. The morning of, you drop by the old lady's mailbox and quickly look through her mail just in case and sigh in relief when there's nothing in it.

The next week, you can't help the dread as you're swiping through the mailbox again, realizing how stupid you'd been. Not only had you probably endangered your daughter, but also the sweet old lady who always babysat for you whenever you had to pull extra shifts at work.

You can't keep the guilt off your face when you run into her at the grocery store that weekend, paying for her share as well when you realize she didn't remember to bring her wallet with her, heart pinching in agony at having taken advantage of her situation. Your daughter is skipping in front as you carry all the grocery bags, dropping the old lady off at her place with her stuff. She insists you stay for tea and you're about to decline but she's already bribed your daughter with cake and it's too late to retreat.

The sun is setting in streaks of orange and blue when you finally wave goodbye to her, adjusting the beanie on your daughter's head before she runs off again. You cross the mailbox, your stomach dropping as you backtrack and decide to doubly check.

Your hands are sweaty, forehead perspiring as you pluck out the blood red envelope, gulping as the dread overwhelms you, like hands wrapping around your throat and squeezing squeezing squeezing to see how long you'd last.

You quickly shove the letter inside your purse before your daughter can catch sight of it. There was no way she was going to read it- if at all- without you proofreading it first.

The entire walk home, you cannot keep your eyes off her. Heart palpitating like any minute you expect someone to pick her off the street and run away where you could never find her again.

Your mind is on the contents of the letter throughout preparing dinner, watching your daughter's favorite show, her bath time, reading her a story to bed and finally, like all the other nights for the past week reassuring her that her Daddy does love her even if he's not written back in a while.

By the time you're finally alone, you're about ready to rip off your hair from its roots as you hastily open the envelope and pluck the letter out.

You skim the letter, it is inconspicuous, nothing suggesting that he never received another letter, keeping the conversation going like always. Asked her about school, her best friend Kara (who was a plushie, but he'd never know) and what kind of cake she liked. Totally innocent. Picking up where they'd previously left off.

You checked for another note, and sure enough there was one. Hands trembling, you opened the twofold and started reading.

Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,

You'd have appreciated the sarcasm if your knees weren't fighting the urge to buckle and give in from the dread.

I suppose I have scared you with my little request. Thus, the lack of letters from your end for the past couple weeks. I apologize for the same, I only realized the implications of my request afterwards. I meant no harm and would understand if you would like to stop completely.

You trusted the man as far as you could throw him. Considering you knew nothing about him; you decided even that was unreliable.

But once in a while, with your permission of course, if the little bunny draws any more pictures, I'd be very much interested in seeing them.

You huffed out a laugh at his audacity, feeling your chest deflate. Years spent trusting your instinct to protect your daughter had wound you so tight that feeling even a single knot loosen was enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.

In sickness and in health,

Daddy

As you posted your daughter's letter that Wednesday, you couldn't help but laugh at your inside joke, wondering how he'd take it. If his previous demeanor was anything to go by, you were guessing it'd be in stride.

"Mail!"

Complete silence filled the yard, all the inmates stopping where they were, at odds with how they'd usually be clawing over each other to get their mail first.

Because no one touched their letters till he had taken his.

The crowd parted like the red sea, hordes of men in orange clearing a path till the mailman who, for all the brave face he put on, was trembling in his pants as well. He could feel the bead of sweat on his back, lining his forehead as he watched him approach, praying to all the Gods up in Heaven that someone- anyone had written this man a letter.

When he'd realized there was no letter for him, yet again, no one had been allowed to take theirs. Not because he forbade them, but because they were scared of what he'd do.

He'd not raised his voice, barely bothered looking intimidating and yet no one stood in his vicinity as he carded through the envelopes, not finding one for himself before asking in a saccharine tone "Are you sure you didn't misplace any?"

The first week, the mailman had been cocky, confident. He'd tched as he snatched the mail back, wondering why no one else was stepping forward "Don't blame me just 'cuz there ain't a letter for you in here ya bloke"

But when no one else stepped forward to take their mail, all that confidence had wavered as he looked around at downcast eyes, no one willing to risk upsetting him any more than he already was.

For the past two weeks, inmates had been avoiding him like the plague. He wasn't amiable on any day but if he didn't receive his letters on Friday, it was a long weekend for all of them.

Especially the ones who challenged him in the ring on Saturday nights.

The second week, it was a similar outcome. The mailman didn't understand what exactly was going on but the nervous, fidgety energy of the inmates was making him nervous as he watched him go through the envelopes and come up empty.

This time he'd just raised an eyebrow, making the mailman sweat "I didn't misplace any!" The desperation and fear ringing clear in his voice.

He'd smiled, crimson eyes glimmering in the sunlight "No one's blaming you" He'd turned around but the wind still carried over the last word "Yet"

The mailman had found himself rechecking for any lost envelopes thrice. He didn't know what would become of him if he returned another week without a letter.

Everyone waited with bated breath as he flipped through the stack of mail the mailman had just handed over and a collective sigh of relief escaped when he plucked out a measly white envelope, lips lifting in a sinister smirk as he handed the rest of the stack back, uncaring of the crowd descending on the poor mailman now that they had the green signal.

He returned to his cell, littered with drawings lining the walls surrounding a single bed, desk and chair. His fingers were twitching with excitement as he tore open the envelope and three things fell out.

He picked up the one on the top first. His daughter had written back to him finally, describing in great detail that she had won a finger-painting competition in school, that Kara came second, her favorite cake was "stroubery". A wry smile lifted his lips at the little sketch of the cake next to the text with cherries lining the top.

Like always, she'd signed it

He admired your resolute, truly. Your daughter's writing was so dark that it would leave indents behind the paper and yet, you'd erase her name so cleanly every time that despite multiple attempts at shading over the lines of the pencil indents, he was yet to figure out her name.

Luv u forehver

Princess Bunny

Picking up the second letter, he couldn't help the smirk spreading over his lips when he saw what you'd addressed it.

Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,

God, he wanted to see you mouth off to him in person so bad.

I've attached a picture of her.

He was so surprised that he immediately dropped your letter to look at the polaroid you'd sent him. One he stared at for all of two seconds before throwing his head back and barking with laughter, unable to help himself as his shoulders shook with mirth.

Resting his forehead on the letter, he could faintly smell the perfume lingering on it and wondered what you looked like. He'd spent almost every day since your first letter wondering who you could possibly be. Sure, he had no reason to lie here and actually complete his sentence, he could get out whenever he wanted but he looked forward to his daughter's letters. There was no fun in finding out who you were through Luke and Keiran when he was sure he could get you to come to him. And you would. Slowly but surely.

Beautiful, isn't she?

She looks forward to your letters so I suppose you can keep sending them.

In happiness and in sorrow,

Mommy

As he pinned up the latest letter next to the others, he also pinned the polaroid next to it, unable to escape the huff of laughter escaping him when he gazed at the ultrasound.

Sylus would make you his. There was simply no other option.

Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,

She is, indeed the most beautiful little princess I've ever seen. She takes after her mother, I'm sure. For research purposes, would you be willing to provide evidence I can submit?

To have and to hold,

Daddy

Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,

Do you want my ultrasound too?

For better or for worse,

Mommy

Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,

I don't mind. Although, I'll admit I usually save the ultrasounds for a third date.

For richer or for poorer,

Daddy

Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,

Unfortunately for you, I don't have those ultrasounds or a third date for you.

To love and to cherish,

Mommy

Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,

Why don't we start at a first one then? I would like to know the color of your eyes.

Till' death do us part,

Daddy

A/N: This has been marinating in my drafts for two months now. Time to unlock multiple chapter fics<3

Your eyes flickered towards the artist as he crossed his arms and a soft hum left you.

"Deals with them?"

"Who?" Emcee's eyebrows furrowed at the question.

"Yes," Rafayel answered. "You'll help. Will he?”

"Naturally."

"...here I thought you'd be a buffer for him,” she started and you chuckled softly, "but that's not the case, is it? He'll be the buffer."

“Have you ordered?” You questioned as you pulled out your phone. "It's on me."

"I invited you out. You can't just-"

"I'll-”

“Keep your money, pretty boy.”

sy: verdict?

dove: you should be sleeping

dove: deals with them, she knows fishboy, that's who's here

sy: have her send me the intel they currently have

sy: curious on why she insisted you, however

dove: thought I'd be a buffer, apparently she thought you and fishboy would go back and forth

dove: now, she fears it'll be me and him

sy: so, he hasn't told her the full story

sy: you have my card, correct? let me know when you leave them, dove

dove: melphie isn't watching?

dove: will do

"What is he saying?"

Your eyebrow raised at the hint of amusement in her tone as your eyes met hers.

"So,” Sylus started the moment you walked into his office, crimson eyes flickering up to meet yours. " I had the boys look into the coordinates Emcee sent and it looks like a facility that’s potentially active, dove. Should you be joining us?”

"Send him the intel you have, Emcee,” you spoke, one of your hands fishing out the familiar black card. "Let's eat."

"I’ll have you, wouldn’t I?” you commented, your feet taking you towards his desk. "Besides, Emcee is a good Hunter and it’s fishboy. Not the first time we've worked together.”

Perching yourself against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed as he turned his chair towards you.

"As you said, you'll have me. Always. You won't need their protection… nor do you truly need mine.”

"Nope," you mused softly, reaching out to put his cheek; his eyes rolling in response, "but it's nice to have. You should be sleeping."

"Wasn't fond of you meeting him without backup, especially without the knowledge of who he was."

Your eyes watched as he turned back towards the paperwork on his desk before a quiet laugh left you.

"Next time," you started, pushing yourself off his desk, "join us instead of watching from afar. She would have enjoyed it.”

“…and you?" Sylus questioned, watching as you walked towards your designated spot in his office.

You didn't have a desk - hated the confinement it felt like it had. He had known that - your hatred for confinement spanning lifetimes.

Caves with multiple areas for you to roam through, buildings the same way. Part of why he always ensured that places were big enough - the base, safehouses.

You always voiced concerns of the penthouses, the homes, that he bought them; never crossed your mind that he ensured your comfort in those safehouses.

"Me? I always enjoy your company, Sy.” You offered him a grin as you plopped into your chair, reaching for the tablet that rested on the end table beside it. "What's the plan for tonight?"

"A few deals are to be made.”

A soft hum let you at the statement.

"Am I needed?"

"Preferred."

"Yes, sir."

A quiet chuckle left him, his head shaking as your eyes flickered towards him with a grin.

"Go get some rest, Sy. I'll wake you."

"I'm fine, dove."

"Sy.”

The tone had him glancing towards you, watching as you stared at him before he heaved a quiet sigh.

It wasn't the stare down that got him - never did.

No, it was always the underlining emotions in your eyes - concern, worry, hurt, whatever was there.

And whatever you wanted, you got.

"Maybe for a bit,” he conceded and you raised an eyebrow.

"A bit," you echoed and a lazy smirk pulled on his lips.

"A compromise... if you move to the couch."

"You are a grown ass man."

"And?"

Your eyes narrowed at him as he watched you, smirk still on his lips, and your nose scrunched.

"You're spoiled,” you muttered, pushing yourself to stand before heading towards the couch. "How do you sleep without it? I swear you demand it every time."

"Restless.”

You snorted as you plopped down on the couch, eyes on the tablet as you sifted through the apps.

"I'm watching something then. Can’t get work done if I'm too busy babying the big bad boss of Onychinus.”

A chuckle followed your statement before weight appeared on your lap, your free hand instantly carding through white hair. A gentle breath felt against your stomach as he situated himself.

"Only you would dare to call this babying."

Tugging his hair gently, you tilted your head down as he peeked his eyes up.

"It is babying.”

His eyes closed as a chuckle left him again, an arm coming to wrap around you.

"Spoiled."

It wasn't until later, when you were sure he was asleep, that you released a quiet sigh, eyes falling onto his peaceful face. You gently pushed his hair back from his closed eyes before your fingers traced over his face.

"Indulging you takes so much from me," you murmured softly, fingers freezing at the corner of his lips. "It's only a matter of time before kitten takes you from me again... not that I can blame her.”

Your words stayed quiet, eyes watching him before leaning down, pressing the softest of kisses against his temple - lips just barely brushing against it – and his arm tightened slightly around you.

Your head fell back against the back of the couch without a second thought, the show you picked playing softly in the background.

Your fingers carded through his hair as your eyes closed, the familiar ache tugging at your heart.

It wasn't the first time his hold tightened in his sleep so, to you, it was nothing. Especially because it was the same story every time and you could never stop it. A story that repeated over lifetimes. Him and Emcee, with you by yourself - all because your heart refuses anyone else. Sylus had complete ownership of your heart.

Something you doubted he even knew - because if he did, these moments wouldn't exist. He wouldn't willingly hurt you.

And he would be upset with himself if he knew he was hurting you.

~

"Ah," Sylus spoke as the two of you came to a stop in front of the others. "I see why you referred to him as fishboy."

Emcee looked at you curiously at the statement before glancing at Rafayel.

"She knows that too?"

“Unfortunately,” Rafayel muttered, his arms crossed over his chest. "What does he know?"

"Everything,” you hummed. "Shall we?"

"I suggested splitting up but Raf shot that down," Emcee spoke, eyes glancing between the three. "It'll get this over faster."

“Yes, but it'll create a bigger risk of capture for pretty boy and myself,” you spoke, walking past the two before you.

You heard she scoff that Rafayel released but, upon walking in front of then, you missed seeing two things.

The stare of disbelief Emcee gave Rafayel and the flash of hurt that past through Sylus' eyes.

"Pretty boy?” Sylus questioned aloud and you blinked before turning to look at him over your shoulder.

"Uh, yeah. Just something I call him outside of fishboy,” you answered with a shrug. "Don't worry, you're pretty too, Sy.”

The words left you before you could prevent them, eyes widened as you turned your head away. After a beat of those words hitting ears, an almost delighted laugh left the other woman.

Footsteps soon approached you and your head turned, eyebrow raising at the lemurian beside you who stared at you.

"He's who you went looking for," he commented and you rolled your eyes. "A lizard."

"Watch it."

Murmurs were heard behind the two of you and you found yourselves both scrunching at the notion.

"You too, then,” Rafayel muttered and you gave him a dull look.

"Dove,” Sylus spoke and you glanced over your shoulder, watching him nod to the right.

Humming softly, you followed the direction, ignoring the raised eyebrow Rafayel gave as he stayed in step with you.

"Shut up."

"Didn't say anything."

“That way,” you hissed, pushing Rafayel down a hall with one hand, gun in the other. "We need to find the security office or whatever is jamming our coms."

Your eyes narrowed as they met his.

"And you have to push?"

"Now is not the time, pretty boy!"

Your eyes caught his before the two of you ducked into a nearby room, your back leaning against the door as your eyes bounced around.

Quick and sharp footsteps grew nearer and you cursed under your breath as you pushed yourself further against the door.

"Where did they go?" was hissed from the other side of the door and your eyes closed. "What do you mean you lost visual? We have cameras all over the damn place!"

No cameras, you thought, eyes flickering open to meet Rafayel's who was suddenly closer; his hands pressed against the door to help you, but still no coms. Melphie?

A growl of annoyance came before footsteps moved further away and you released the breath you'd been holding.

"We need to stay put until we're sure they're gone,” you spoke, nose scrunching at the thought.

"Great,” Rafayel muttered as he crossed his arms. "So, what's the deal with you and the lizard?"

"At least call him a crow," you spoke dryly, giving him a dull stare. "Lizard is insulting, even to me."

"Should I call you a dove then?"

"Only Sylus and the twins on occasion can.”

"What's the deal with you and the crow?" He repeated, watching as you looked around the room.

"There isn't."

"Right. Just like we know each other willingly,” he deadpanned and you sighed softly.

"It doesn't matter."

“… you love him," Rafayel concluded and you glanced at him. "Same boat as me then."

"Emcee?"

A hum sounded as confirmation as his eyes turned away, a look you recognized from your own in them.

"...maybe we should get together outside of work then.”

"Asking me out now?” Rafayel sent a sly grin. "I don't know. Don't lizards eat fish?"

"I regret asking. Never mind," you scoffed, picking up around item. "Just thought it'll be nice to try something new since, as you put it, we're in the same boat."

"Give me your phone," Rafayel spoke, reaching a hand out, and you stared at him. "Hard to do that if we can't contact each other, princess."

"Princess?" You echoed, pulling out your phone. "Where did that come from?"

Rafayel shrugged, grabbing the phone as a crackling sound was heard in your ear.

"Dove, where are you?” A slight panic grasped the edge of his voice as you reached up, pressing fingers against your coms.

"Safe, both of us. Currently getting ready to leave our hiding spot."

"Exit the building as soon as you can. Emcee and I have the intel."

"Got it, boss."

Taglist: @.maryy237 @.ixciv

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist!

Brat tamer!Zayne, who realizes he only has issues with getting you to drink water and to eat properly...

"Have you eaten today, darling?"

"Yes, I did."

"What did you eat?"

"...crackers."

"...what about water?"

"..."

Brat tamer!Zayne, who has given you a look whenever you did try to act out, fully ready to punish if it continued, only to watch you scrunch your nose and apologize sincerely just as fast.

Brat tamer!Zayne, who realizes even with permission, you struggle doing certain things you're not supposed too, that he has to coax it...

"I said you can bite," was murmured against your lips and a soft whine left you as your hands moved to grip his biceps.

"I...ngh." Your head tilted back with a gasp, hands tightening, as he continued to hit cervix just right.

One of his hands tangled in your hair while the other stayed gripping your thigh and he tilted your head forward, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

"Bite, sweet girl."

Teeth sunk into his lower lip as your hands trailed up to cup his neck, desperate to keep him close despite the harshness of his thrusts.

A groan left him as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, his arm wrapping around your leg to push it higher, and you released his lip with a loud moan, your head pushing against his hand still tangled in your hair.

"Zayne!"

Brat tamer!Zayne, who does mention missing the taming aspects sometimes but appreciates your attempts and reassures any insecurities you have because of it...

"I do try! I just...it doesn't sit right," you murmured, glancing away before flickering to his eyes as he cupped your cheeks.

"I know," he spoke softly. "I enjoy that you try but it's not something to force yourself to do. You're enough, my love."

Brat tamer!Zayne, who realizes that you react to praise when he had your back pressed against his chest, legs hooked around his slightly bent ones, one hand dipped between your legs - the other holding your chin gently, making you look at the mirror in front of you...

"Keep watching," he murmured against your neck, his eyes watching through the mirror as he dropped the hand holding your chin. Fingers trailing down your shoulder before his arm wrapped around your front, hand coming up to cup your breast. "Good girl."

A smirk tugged on his lips as he raised an eyebrow at your sharp intake of breath.

"Oh?"

"Z-Zayne-" one of your hands lifted to tangle in his hair while the other rested on his arm that cupped your breast. You fought to keep your eyes open as his thumb rubbed your clit slowly.

"You're doing good, sweet girl. Keep those pretty eyes open." He brought his mouth against your ear, your hand tightening in his hair as your hips moved against his hand. "Responding so well. That's it, keep those pretty moans coming."

"I-I can't," you whined, forcing your eyes open after they fluttered shut for a moment. "Zayne, please, please, please."

The word kept chanting out of your mouth, sweet nothings murmuring in your ear, until your head was thrown back, body tensing as pleasure consumed you.

"Good girl."

Brat tamer!Zayne, who couldn't help but chuckle at every half-hearted glare sent his way after every praise that leaves him throughout the day.

Brat tamer!Zayne, who doesn't mind missing out on taming as long as you let him care for you.

Let me know what you think! First posted smut, first time in this format too. Thank you for reading!