ruma

Sylus

Yapper

Xavier

Drunk, I Love You

Rafayel

Banter pt.1, pt.2

Zayne

But then he sees the look of disgust you throw the cage that he’s in, the way your eyes narrow at the mana infused collar on his neck.

How when your father enacts an incantation to show how binded he is to said collar and he roars in pain, your eyes don’t flinch away…but your jaw sets into place.

Suddenly, he thinks there may be a way out of this after all.

—

You’d been trying your hand at makeup recently, mostly different effects you could make mixing certain colors in your skin. Somewhere along the line, you decided maybe it would be fun to prank your boyfriend. You mix the purples, the blues, and a bit of black and make the perfect looking hickey just under the left side of your jaw.

You’re giddy, waiting for your boyfriend to come home from work. A little jitter in your tummy that has you giggling as the door opens and you put on your game face.

Xavier greets you as he walks in, slipping his shoes off and making his way towards you. His arms open for a hug, he envelopes you and moves to nuzzle your neck. But then he sees it. The hickey. He pulls back a bit, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. A soft pout jutting out his bottom lip.

He grabs your chin tilting your head away from him. “Where’d you get this?” He asks, voice drier than normal.

God, it takes everything in you not to crack right there. A soft, “Huh? Get what?” leaves your lips.

His fingers dance across the fake bruise, pushing your hair away to get a better look at the mark on your skin. You watch out of the corner of your eye as his lips purse into a thin line. “This,” he pushes into your skin.

You hiss, as though it was real. He clicks his tongue softly at that, eyes flickering to yours for a moment. You can see the gears turning in his head, but he says nothing.

He tilts your head the other way, exposing the blank canvass of skin on your right side. Your breath hitches as he leans forward, latches onto the skin over your pulse point and bites deep. Your eyes shoot wide as you grab onto the front of his shirt, you’ve got no other option but to let him do as he pleases. Especially as he begins to walk you backwards towards the couch.

“Xav—”

You’re cut off when he sucks harshly on your skin, a gasp leaves your mouth as your knees hit the couch and you fall back into the cushions. He follows, one hand cupping the back of your neck so you can’t run; and the other hold himself up. He slots a knee between your open legs and pushes his thigh against you.

A delicate whimper leaves your mouth, and suddenly he’s gone. Your eyes flicker open, watching as he stands above you. He reaches forward, fingers dancing from the side of your jaw down to the fake hickey.

“Tell your secret lover to do better next time.” He pulls away, but not before swiping his thumb across your skin, smearing the makeup. “Or I’ll show him just how many I can leave behind.”

You call out Sylus’ name as he comes home for the evening, beckoning him to the kitchen so you can great him properly.

“Hey! How was the meeting? It was shorter than you said it was going to be.” You stood over the stove, pan and spoon in hand as you cook.

“How long…” his tone is odd…off a little bit when he speaks.

You hum, turning your head, eyes not really drawn away from the stove. “Until the food’s done? Uh, shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

How long have you known? Is what he wants to say. Needs to say.

“No.” It cracks, his voice. “Say it again.”

despite the chill, warmth surrounds you. a warm body envelopes your own, soft steady breathing brushes past your ear as you stir awake.

a soft, tender kiss is placed on the nape of your neck. you hum in content, tilting your head just a bit to see one of his ruby eyes open and peering at you.

“good morning, kitten.” his voice is deep, edged with a sleepy tone that sends chills down your arms.

during your vacation, you’d taken to matching your lovers sleep schedule. not something that was hard to accomplish, yet something he deemed unneeded.

but as you lay tangled in his arms, hair fanned across the pillows next to him. he couldn’t think of a better way to wake in the evening.

The dust settles around you, the Wanderer finally shattering into the chilly night air. You huff, a soft sound mixed with a laugh as you grip your injured arm.

“That took long enough.” You turn with a tired smile, eyes turnt up as you look back to Sylus. “Thanks for blocking some of those attacks, I don’t think I would have..”

thump

Your words trail off. The world around you becomes hazy, tunnel vision zeros in on the body that now lay sprawled on the floor. Just a few feet away.

“Sylus?” You ask, a short laugh of disbelief leaving your lips. “Hey, that’s not funny your wounds heal. Get up.”

silence

Your face drops slowly, eyebrows furrowing as you shake your head a bit. Your tone is a bit forceful, louder this time when you say his name, “Sylus.”

Something jolts you forward, you aren’t sure what it is, but it’s a gentle push to your back as you move towards him mechanically.

You get close enough to see his chest.

it isn’t moving

It dawns on you then, that there’s blood. That his wounds are gaping and his snowy hair conceals his face, but you can see how pale he is.

You’re moving fast now, dropping to your knees next to him. Wincing but not caring for the throb that settles over your body due to your own injuries.

Clammy hands meet his thick shoulders as you roll him into his back, his body is heavy.

dead weight

Quickly, you slide your fingers onto his neck, searching for his pulse point. But you can’t feel anything.

Something akin to fear grips your chest, but that doesn’t quite describe it. No, it’s more than that. You can feel it seeping through your entire being, can feel it sink its claws into your soul.

Everything happens fast from there. You’re slapping his cheeks. Checking his breathing, opening his eyes to see if there’s a response to light.

anything and everything you can think of

At some point Kieran and Luke are there, they settle next to you but you yell and shove them away when they go to touch Sylus.

It’s Luke who looks to Kieran, they give each other a nod a silent signal you aren’t paying attention too. Just before the latter grabs you over your arms and around your waist to yank you away. To give his brother room to work, but oh, do you fight.

God, he nearly drops you when you ram your elbow into his stomach, nearly missing his solar plexus. But he holds steady as Luke works to get Sylus up so they can get him medical attention.

You hear screaming, and your face feels wet. It takes Kieran whispering to you that you finally notice that it’s you. You’re making those noises, and you’re crying.

But your eyes are focused on him, on the curve of his nose, the way his eyelashes are flush with his cheek. And you’re imagining he opens his eyes and says something to push you off kilter, to soothe you.

You couldn’t sleep. It was so infuriating. You were trying so hard. You pulled out the works. Rain sounds, warm milk, a hot bath.

Nothing was helping.

So you had to pull out the big guns.

The phone rings once before it’s picked up.

“Speak,” Sylus’ voice is low, deep. His tone is one you’ve become unaccustomed to over time.

“Hey,” You say softly, and you can tell he hadn’t realized you were calling. “How’s…work?”

You hear his low grumble of laughter, “Well, hello there, Kitten.”

You hear the soft chatter of voices fade, seems you may have caught him in the middle of something.

“I’m sorry, I can leave you alone—”

He interrupts you, “—And why would you think I’d ever want that?”

You can’t help the soft giggle that leaves your lips, curling up deeper into your cocoon of blankets. You can smell Sylus on the fabric, and it soothes you a little more.

“I don’t want to bother you, especially when you’re working abroad like this.” You say softly, voice tinged with the slightest bit of exhaustion.

You hear Sylus hum noncommittally, “It’s always important when you call, now. What’s wrong with my beloved?”

You purse your lips, a soft pout on your lips, “I can’t sleep, I’m not used to you not being here..”

There it is, he thinks to himself. Settling into the couch cushion of a room far away from the commotion of illegal dealings. He’d come abroad to find a rat amongst the sellers he’d been looking into recently. Which had lead to him being away for over a week. Far too long by his standards, but work was work.

“Poor thing,” He drawls out softly, chucking when he hears your tired whine. “And what is it you’d like me to do about that?”

His tone is teasing, and you’re sure you’ll hang up on him just to spite his tone. But you know he’ll help, that he’ll do whatever you ask. Because he loves you.

“Talk to me?” Your voice sounds so pretty laced with that soft grumble of exhaustion, he finds the sound endearing.

So he caves, but is it really caving when he’d burn the world just to have you in his arms?

He talks to you, the baritone grumble of his voice vibrates through the phone. He talks about nothing in particular, just rattling off his days and what he’s done while away from you.

You hum along, voice slowly losing its normal tone and becoming breathy. A telltale sign you’re getting sleepy, he chuckles every now and again. Especially when you mumble something incoherent in response to his voice.

When he goes quiet too long, you whine, soft and just loud enough for him to hear.

“So fussy,” He’d say, before speaking again, “What if I run out of things to say? What would you do then?”

“I’d be..” You mutter softly, “So sad then..”

He thinks his heart may burst, his eyes soften, and if you were with him, he’d bury his face into the crook of your neck and pull you impossibly close to feel your warmth.

So he talks longer, until your breath is steady for at least twenty minutes. Then, and only then. Does he think to hang up.

He’s not himself. Or rather, he’s not who you remember.

Your heart beats fast as you duck around the corner of a dimly lit alleyway. Your gun is held firmly against your side, your trigger finger against the slide. Because you don’t want to shoot. You don’t want to hurt him. You would though. To stay safe you think you’d do it.

But then he’s there, winding around the corner and grabbing for your wrist. You gasp, dropping low and back to counteract his build. He wasn’t prepared for your evasion, he misses and his hands collide with the wall to stop himself from slamming into it.

With a dark chuckle he turns to you, you’re standing deeper in the alley. With no way out but from where he came, and he’s blocking it.

You raise the gun when he tilts his head. You’re aiming at his chest, hair in disarray and eyes wild as you watch his every move.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back.

His eyes sparkle, but it’s darker than what you’re used too.

Sadistic

“You wouldn’t shoot me.” His voice is soft, but his tone is dripping with condescension. Like he’s toying with you.

You steel yourself, feet placed firmly beneath you as you stop letting his advance push you back. You won’t let him scare you.

He stops only when the barrel of your gun is pressed against the center of his chest, just below that necklace.

“Come on, pipsqueak.” He smiles down at you, hair falling into those beautiful purple eyes.

He looks at you like a meal he’s ready to devour. There’s no trace of that playful look you once prayed to see just one more time.

Fate truly has dealt you a sour hand.

He grabs the barrel, fingers wrapping around it and dragging it up his chest. You fight his grip, but he doesn’t stop.

The barrel slides up his chest, slowly, until it stops in the middle of his forehead.

Your breath hitches, fingers tightening around the gun as your body stills.

He smirks at you, rolling his tongue out to skim across his bottom lip as he rests his skin against your pistol.

“Do it.”

It’s a challenge.

One you can’t take.

One he knows you won’t take.

Your grip loosens on the gun. He moves fast, hands gripping your shoulders and slamming you into the wall. You grunt as he disarms you. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, he bringing the gun to rest under your chin.

You gasp, tilting your chin up away from the barrel. Eyes blown wide as you take in the way he watches you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Too slow.” He drawls out, tauntingly. His free hand brushing your hair tenderly out of your face. You flinch at his touch and he clicks his tongue.

“What’s wrong?” He presses the gun up further, relishing in the way your lips quiver and how you flick your gaze up to him.

He presses closer, sealing your body between his own and the wall. One leg situated between your thighs to keep you caged and unmoving. Your nose scrunches up a bit as you huff out a breath. A habit from when you were younger, he notes.

“Not the reunion you were hoping for?” His breath fans over your face.

You shudder as his hand moves from your ear to run the pad of his thumb over your cheek bone, the action almost loving if it weren’t for the loaded gun under your chin.

The words didn’t even register in your mind as you stared at him.

Caleb was standing in front of you.

Alive

Everything that’s happened to you the past..god, how long had it been now? That he’d been dead.

It all comes racing back.

That day.

You can feel the heat of the explosion. You can feel yourself getting blown off your feet. You can feel your heart break.

It’s almost like you’re seeing yourself from outside of your own body.

You see the empty shell that is you through the memory. You see yourself sit up in a daze, ears ringing and your clothes tattered.

You can hear yourself scream.

And then all sound dies as you look at the carnage.

Suddenly, you’re back. You’re standing on your own two feet.

And you see him.

“I’m dreaming.” You say, voice dry, empty. For a moment. For a single second, you almost believe yourself.

But then he takes a step forward and his hand cups your cheek.

His eyes.

Those warm violet pools that always looked at you with a kind of love no one else has shown you.

They’re dark, and they’re empty.

“Don’t recognize me?” He says, his voice low.

And truly?