SleepyKittyEnergy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you.

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

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

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

divider from @/diviniyae

Caleb wakes with a start, clutching a hand to his chest. Breathing hard, his eyes still on your figure laying beside him, now stirring from his sudden movement.

“It’s okay,” he swallows, blowing a stray piece of hair out of his eyes.

You look over at him. Caleb had somehow in the middle of the night gotten so far away from you. He was half out of the blankets, shirtless. Maybe he had been sitting up awake for a while.

You both reach out an arm for each other, Caleb pulling you closer around your waist to nestle beside him. Carefully reaching up, eyes still lidded with sleep, you find his hand resting on his chest. Well, his mechanical arm that is.

“Another nightmare?” You ask.

“Thankfully no. It was a good dream… you were there.”

“I was there… good… because I’m also here now” You mumble.

His laugh sounds so beautiful to your ears. It was Caleb’s laugh. And you could recognise it anywhere in the world.

“You’re so adorable right now. You know that right?” He kisses your hair.

“Mmm hmm,” you reply, sleep taking precedence over your ability to talk.

Caleb brings up a hand to rub the back of your head, admiring where your cheek squishes against his chest. He felt that feeling he often felt with you.

That he wanted to be responsible for protecting you, and that he can.

“So so precious, you’re everything,” he whispers. The birds were just beginning to chip into the dawn, pulling the light of day. “Apart from the nightmares, it’s you I usually dream of.”

“It was a good dream…” you start. “So you woke up surprised? Oh Caleb,” you nuzzle your face against his neck.

He smiles and resists the urge to move away out of ticklishness. Your breath uneven and careless, caressed his ear. Of course, you knew his neck was sensitive.

“I know I know,” he settles into your touch. Caleb would stay here as long as you wanted to sleep in. All day if you wished it. Just so he could hold you in his arms and whisper how grateful he was to you. How special you are to him.

It was a lazy morning and you both slept in that day. But eventually you managed to rouse yourselves to go shopping. Pancake ingredients for a late breakfast were at the top of the list.

“Hey it looks like that new toy store opened, did you want to take a look?” Caleb squeezes your hand, plastic bag of pancake ingredients in the other.

You nod, “Sure let’s go in.”

Knowing Caleb from childhood was a blessing.

You seemed to get each other in a way other people couldn’t. And this included a mutual indulgence in the past. Fun things, things that make kids excited.

As soon as you stepped in the store, Caleb right behind you, words were lost on your lips.

“Woah,” is all you could say, taking in the shelves and shelves of plushies, all shapes and sizes, badges and blind boxes. Tiny collective figures.

The store owner greets you both with a smile, evidently happy to see two grown adults indulging in some whimsy.

Caleb follows you around the store, happy to let you lead, fascinated with the way you were fascinated by the toys.

“Caleb look!” His heart starts as you call his name.

You point to rows of shelves with tiny cute velvet animal figurines in small cute packagings. The animals were in different sets, sometimes with prams or gardening tools or whole houses.

Your eyes carefully scan the cute figurines. There was so many and all so cute.

“Pick what you like,” Caleb says. You look at him but he’s already watching your face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s my treat. For getting to reminisce with you. Whichever you like best, I’ll get it for you.”

He’s met with a warm smile that keeps his heart ablaze.

You return to scanning the packets. This one had two animal figures and an apple tree. They were on a picnic from the looks of their red picnic basket and portable cd player.

You pick it up.

“You like this one hey?” Caleb watches from over your shoulder.

“Yes please,” you turn the packaging towards him.

“Then you got it. That one it is.” He laughs and squeezes your shoulder.

“Don’t you think it looks like us?” You say.

“Yeah if we had cute little animal ears.” You both laugh.

“There's two, let’s have one figure each," you suggest. "Then we can match."

“You've got a deal.”

Caleb pays for the toy from the store owner and you both head home.

Beyond hungry, you both demolish the pancakes and berries you bought.

He insists on washing up and you go ahead and get the toy out from the packaging. Caleb comes and joins you, finding a spot in the bedroom to keep it.

“Did you find a spot for them yet?” Caleb asks, sitting on the bed beside you.

You look around the room holding the cute toys.

“I don’t know where they want their home to be. It’s a big decision.”

“It is.” Caleb muses, reaches out and takes his figure. “I don’t think they would mind. As long as they are together... they can feel like they’re home.”

You watch as Caleb brings his animal figure closer to yours, before moving to touch them together.

You turn to face him and he leans in just as gently, it makes your heart flutter, eyes locked onto your lips. He waits for you to close your eyes before he follows, drawing you into the kiss.

Home. Caleb was home wherever you were.

a/n: happy birthday caleb!

© xavibloom 2026

He had locked eyes with the dark-haired one that spilled cold divinity. The man had raised a hand to reach out, a thread of glowing blue stemming from his palm to slowly reach you. And your pain had seemed to ebb briefly.

Staryus had done the same, and watched as a thread of something crimson slithered out of him to coil with the thread of blue. Yellow had followed, and not too long after that, purple and orange.

Together, these men and he had offered you what was essentially a length of rope. And you had reached out to grab it.

That was the past. The present was much less dramatic. Much less- though not completely- harrowed by worry for you. He had learnt the men's names, had listened to the Foreseer's brief explanations about the temporary server, and had done his part to bring forth two other versions of himself.

It has been a... struggle, being around others that stuck out as much as he did.

Staryus flicked his tail, smile curling at his lips as he watched the... 'shitshow' that had become of the kitchen. The Xaviers had offered to be the ones to cook for today's meal. And as much of the cooking had been delegated to the Colonel- who was slowly teaching X0-2 to cook- no one had argued. Not when it was the Colonel's turn to watch over the screens as you slept.

You were still very young, after all. And the Colonel had been the most shaken by your near death at the hands of EVER, even if a couple months had passed since then.

Speaking of said Colonel...

"What the fuck, Xavier."

The Lightseeker stood in the middle of the kitchen, wok smoking ominously. The King and the... Favourite were standing in the utter chaos of the single cooking area in this space between Space and Time. His blue eyes rolled over to the Colonel, who looked very displeased.

"We were cooking."

"You were burning." Staryus couldn't help but chuckle at that, to which the Colonel's violet gaze snapped to him. "You were here and you didn't stop them?"

"I didn't get here long before you did, Colonel." He arched an eyebrow. "And well, I would have stopped them if things got too bad."

"This doesn't count as too bad for you?"

"Only the wok is on fire."

The Colonel sighed as the Lightseeker slowly put the wok down. Amusement curled inside of him when he watched the King attempted to slowly slink out of the Colonel's gaze. The Favourite slowly put down the cilantro.

Staryus let his amusement show with a chuckle when the Colonel's eyes snapped severely to the herb.

"Out. All of you." Power weighed down the room harshly, without care for any of them. "Get out of my kitchen."

The Xaviers didn't argue and slipped out rather quickly. Staryus just laughed as the Colonel shoved him out with a glare.

"Tell me if you need help cleaning up, Colonel."

"Fuck off."

~♥~

See, Staryus was solitary. He was unused to being 'cared for'. He was not used to camaraderie. Not being part of it. He didn't think what he had with you was camaraderie, per se. It was love. It was affection. It was indulgence. He didn't know if camaraderie was involved.

He had seen it in the soldiers that had hunted after him and you, of course, but he had never experienced it.

The Zaynes watched over all of them. It made sense, considering the Foreseer's prophetic powers and his strangely in depth knowledge about all their roles as Constellations in the confines of the System. But Galen? The Grand General? They took care of the others too, despite all of them being as capable and dangerous as the Zaynes were.

It was Galen that slipped to the Colonel in the aftermath of the very first Plausibility Storm. It was the Grand General that monitored the moods of the others, pulling the Sanctarch away for a simple strategic game when the other got antsy. It was Foreseer that ensured the King ate.

Perhaps it was just something that was fundamentally part of Zayne that spanned beyond reincarnations and timelines.

That nature of theirs- the cold, nearly distant caregiving- was something that Staryus puzzled with often. Yes, all of them had the same goal of keeping you safe, but they weren't close with each other. Yet the Zaynes seemed to care for them in a very familiar way.

It was disconcerting. The way the versions of himself eased into the cool- nearly indifferent- offerings of the Zaynes. The way the Archfiend spoke with the Grand General on many matters of art and politics. The way Galen and Tartarus formed a mutual understanding through the similarities of their worlds. And the way the Foreseer roped Staryus himself into conversations.

He hated divinity. He was the Fiend that devoured it, after all. For all intents and purposes, his entire existence was to bring the end of Philos. He had a tendency to destroy everything he touched, as opposed to the power of creation the Zaynes seemed to utilise.

It wasn't him looking down on himself. It was simply the truth. Destruction and chaos had its place in the universe. Every version of himself would be like this, after all.

At odds with divinity, closer to the Abyss than the Heavens. And yet, the strain of divinity within the Zaynes were never as sharp and distasteful as Astra's. Yet, the divinity coursing through the Rafayels was warm and inviting.

"Staryus."

"Foreseer."

Said man- demigod, tether to the divine being that was the greatest threat to you- sat next to him, mindful of Staryus' tail that had started to shift and wag.

Staryus cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher what the tether wanted. You were peacefully asleep, giving the others ample time to do whatever they wanted. It was his turn to watch over you as you slept.

You had just arrived at the Academy your parents had sent you to, and he worried that you may not be sleeping well. You seemed to be more honest when you weren't conscious. You cried sometimes during your sleep.

"I thought you'd be with X0-2."

That version of Caleb was innocent in a way Staryus nor any of the others were. Oh, he was still lethal and deadly, but there were many experiences that he had been robbed of. He quite literally only knew violence and you.

"The Sea God wanted to show him art." The Foreseer said, as he slipped something out of his sleeve. "And I wanted to see you."

"Careful, Foreseer." He grinned and let his Eye come to the surface. "That sounds awfully flirtatious of you."

The Foreseer gave him an unimpressed look and pressed a tin of something in his palm. Without much thinking, Staryus curled his claws around it. He arched an eyebrow at the- he sniffed slightly- medicinal thing.

"For your horns and claws." The Foreseer elaborated. "Your tail as well. They look as though they have seen better days."

Ah. He looked at his claws. Normally, he had coated them with the abundant Abyssal essence that had existed in his version of Philos- as opposed to the decaying world of the Lightseeker and the Favourites along with the King's land of undying dead- but that was less than possible here.

"What is this?"

"Corrupted divinity." His eyes snapped to the Foreseer, who simply regarded him impassively. "My own, to be exact."

That was... Staryus didn't like how he was feeling. He didn't understand. The divine tended to dislike him. They had never been kind.

He hadn't expected for any of them to corrupt their own power to offer him aid. To help at the expense of themselves. But then again, the Foreseer was the most cryptic of them all.

"And they called me mad." Staryus contemplated briefly before pushing the tin of medicinal balm back into the Foreseer's hands and brought forth his wings. "Come now, Foreseer. I won't be able to reach my wings on my own."

~♥~

"What are you doing, Abysswalker?"

Staryus peered at the sketchbook the tether to the Deep Sea was working on. He knew that the Rafayels were artists, but he also knew that all of them were rather possessive of their works in progress.

He expected Abysswalker to snap his sketchbook shut, but to his pleasant surprise, the purple-haired man simply hummed and glanced at him as he continued to sketch.

"Sketching, of course."

Staryus said your name questioningly, asking Abysswalker if he was drawing you. You were always the Rafayels' muse, after all. The you in the fragile mortal form you had now, the you they had all seen through the person-shaped tear, and the you that they saw in the very beginning of this strange cohabitation... they were all you, and the Rafayels captured all of that.

"No. Not this time."

That was when Staryus gazed at the scene before him.

You were fast asleep on the private plane your kids had gotten for you to travel back to Linkon in. They had all worried over you, and had opted to simply have a... 'sleepover'- a term the Colonel used- in the main 'operations room'.

It was almost shockingly soft, the way everyone was positioned. The Lemurian Sea God in all his tailed glory was lounging on top of Galen's legs. The Archfiend was sprawled on the various blankets with Galen as they were both peering over a book. The King had his eyes closed and head tipped backwards as Tartarus braided his long hair. The Grand General and High Marshal were playing a game that had rules that were not familiar to Staryus himself. But the two of them seemed to enjoy themselves, just as much as the Sanctarch seemed to enjoy making snippy comments on their actions and as much as the Favourite seemed to like observing.

X0-2 and the Colonel were speaking in hushed tones to one another, which concerned Staryus. The Calebs were predictably unpredictable. And from the way Foreseer was observing them, he assumed the demigod was having the same thoughts.

"Them?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why not?" The man- the assassin- glanced at him and smiled. "You know better than anyone that there's no real reason for desire."

Fair point. Staryus tipped his head in acknowledgement.

"It's peaceful. And this is the first time all of us spent time like this. That itself is worth documenting."

"Do you want us to do something like this more often?"

"I found- before I was called here, of course- that the mundane is worth remembering." Abysswalker was the gentlest out of the Rafayels, but that truly wasn't saying much. There was something about him in particular that seemed to cherish the small things. "I'd prefer it if the distance between all of us were smaller."

He considered the tether's words. Staryus was... solitary. And yet, he enjoyed conversing with the others. He liked it when they shared a space.

"Perhaps... that wouldn't be too bad."

Staryus curled his claws into fists and resisted the urge to tidy up the blankets and cushions they were all settled on. He was fine with his own nest and hoard in his 'room'.

"Dragon, when we next get the chance, I hope you'll show me your full form."

"Oh, if you wanted to see me naked, you could have just said so."

Abysswalker laughed and pat at Staryus' thigh.

"If I wanted to see you naked, I would have seen so already. No. I want to see you in all your draconic glory."

"One day." Not now. Not when the madness of his full form still clung to him. He wasn't afraid to shift. He was simply cautious. He didn't want to risk destroying this place and leaving you defenceless. "I'll let you see."

~♥~

"Your hoard really is something," Tartarus said.

Staryus hummed proudly as he guided the versions of himself through the many chambers of his personal area of this space between Time and Space. Everything he had owned before his death and his subsequent travel was here.

"Ah, I vaguely remember this." Archfiend picked up a dagger. The very one you had tried to use to stab him in the very beginning of his memory with you. "They tried to use it on us, didn't they?"

"Yes." He could still see it in his mind's eye. The way your voice and actions seemed both defiant and afraid, and the contradictory way the 'you' peering through the human-shaped fracture looked amusedly enamoured as he grabbed you and held you before you could do anything. "Your memory has improved."

"Somewhat. The breaking of the soulbond between me and them fractured a lot of the smaller details."

Staryus couldn't help but rumble in discontentment. Your soul had been linked with his. Bonded with no regards to the whims of time and space and incarnations. You had promised your soul to him. But the Archfiend and you- because in the end, all versions of you were You- had broken it, only to reforge it once more.

"He said he was sorry." Tartarus said, stopping before Staryus could make an attempt to maul the Archfiend again. "Well, as much as we do, anyway."

Staryus huffed but relented. It was all in the past, and your soul was still linked with his, despite the 'hiccups'.

"They thought it was a dragon-killing blade." He laughed as he gently took the hilt of the blade from the Archfiend with his tail. "Nothing can kill a dragon."

"Unless it's the sword that they pushed into your heart."

"Yes, unless it's something from them." He glanced at the Archfiend. "Our stories do end in death."

"Not mine," Tartarus interjected with a sharp, self-assured grin.

"No, not yours."

"Why did you bring us here, Staryus?" the Archfiend asked as he guided the two versions of himself along the less personal gems and treasures.

"A treasure for them. We need something that would be worth putting the shrine they are making for us."

"That doesn't explain why you invited us here." Tartarus' tone was sharp. Not in an attacking way, but in a thoughtful one. "You're a dragon. You don't like others in your lair."

"But you're not others, are you?" Staryus grinned sharply. He was more aware of his part of the game. He was, essentially, the beginning of them all. The one that linked you to each and every version of himself. "We're all the same person."

"With significant differences," Tartarus said.

"But enough similarities." Archfiend mused with a nod. "We do share much of the same thoughts and plans."

"True." Tartarus relented. "We could have been like the Rafayels."

"The divinity and the Deep Sea God does that. He ebbs and flows unpredictably and so does his tethers," Staryus said, remembering what the Lemurian Sea God had let slip at one point. Some of him were harsher and more controlling than others whilst some of him were kinder and softer.

"Your trinket to them needs to be perfect."

"Our trinket, Tartarus." Staryus grinned. "Three of the same thoughts are better than one."

"You're not wrong," Archfiend said, the smile in his voice very clear.

"Working together is much beneficial than working against each other."

At Tartarus' words, Staryus chuckled and let his tail swish back and forth.

~♥~

Sylus POV, watching as the Calebs seethe in jealousy (after he kissed R's neck). Grabbing the Colonel but the chin and telling him to play nice. An in depth look into jealousy ().

"Control yourself, Colonel."

"Control myself?" The man- the one so distinctly mortal out of all of them- snarled, violet gaze piercing and accusatory. "After you didn't?"

Staryus had pressed a kiss onto your neck after him and the other versions of himself chose your traditional robes for you. And that had sent the others in a jealousy frenzy. With the Calebs being the most vocal about it, of course.

"They had no qualms about it."

"You had no right to-"

He could feel the eyes of the others on the imminent explosive argument between him and the Colonel. To the man, you were a pseudo younger sibling that he loved in all sorts of ways. He knew you weren't quite the 'person' he grew up with, but you were all he knew.

The Colonel was the defender. The stalwart guardian. He put you- your safety- above everything else. Himself, your own happiness, and your freedom.

Staryus disagreed with him on that. Your comfort and happiness were the most important things. He agreed with the Calebs on the world being much less important than you, but he didn't agree with caging you.

The Calebs and the Rafayels were similar when it came to you. They got violently jealous and possessive. The former mainly stemming from the brutalities of his childhood and the latter stemming from the divine possessiveness.

The Xaviers weren't too far behind. They were simply much quieter in their jealousy. Most of the times, they were more jealous of each other than they were of the others. The Zaynes were quite similar to them in their silent jealousy.

The versions of himself though? They didn't particularly care. You could have anyone and everyone you wanted. As long as he could have you in a romantic capacity, he didn't mind.

With a quick snap of his arm, he shot out a clawed hand to grab at the Colonel's chin to pull him down to where Staryus sat at his own little control panel.

The Colonel made a sound that sounded nearly animalistic even to his ears.

"Play nice." He snarled back. "They do not belong to you."

"As they don't belong to you."

His Eye flared, and he could feel the conflicted feelings. Yes, the Colonel was furious at Staryus' kiss to your pulse point. But there was something confused in there too. A jealousy that didn't seem to revolve around you. Not really.

Hm. Perhaps...

Staryus pulled the Colonel's face closer to his and curiously pressed his lips against the man's.

Almost immediately, the Colonel shoved him away with profanities he didn't fully understand. The fury in the man's posture was apparent, but...

He laughed at the way the man's cheeks were flushed.

~♥~

Staryus watched the men- his fellow Constellations and watchers of your tale- exhaustedly continued to monitor you. The physically present version of himself had made a violent mark on you, which caused all of them to be on edge.

He didn't like it. The tension in the operations room. He didn't like how worn ragged all of them- including himself- were.

He closed his eyes and let the shift take over him. Let his claws sharpen further. Let his human face lengthen and harden into a large snout. Let his body elongate into a much larger, beastial one.

He blinked his eyes open and simply shifted- if he moved too much, he would risk destroying the screens, after all- and curled himself around all the others.

Sylus

Sylus would just smirk. He'd look indulgent of what you were saying, but it would simply be that. Indulgent. The man's first form was a dragon, and he was a Fiend in every incarnation. He was predator, even if you were no prey.

He was your consigliere. Your Syndicate's plans were largely known to him, and you had been the one to push the power over your Beasts into his open palms even when he had been indifferent to it in the very beginning. You had separated Onychinus from your Syndicate, but he still had access to many things. There was still time before you properly cut him off.

Luke and Kieran were more favourable to you than they were to him. But by cutting ties with him, you were essentially cutting ties with them as well. He would tell them exactly that, which would convince them to be cooperative of his actions.

He wouldn't cage you. No. You'd be settled nice and comfortably in a nest far from anyone that would dare to take you away from him. Preferably, he'd want those coveting figures away from you, but that would make you unhappy. And he didn't want that. They couldn't really do much anyway.

All you really needed to do was enjoy the service he was giving you. No worries or thoughts, really.

Sylus would take care of what you built up. He would make sure that you had nothing to worry about. But there were many aspects of your life you fretted over. Aspects he only trusted the others with.

Rafayel

Rafayel would not like it. He would not like the mere thought of you leaving him. And he'd make that very, very clear to you. He'd pout at the start, arguing with you before you could really get a word out. He'd assume you were joking. Or punishing him for trying to kill you that one time. But when he realises that you were being serious, oh boy.

That ancient part of him would come fully into play. The Deep Sea God that he housed would roar to life. For what were the tides without the moon? He had only just found balance in the ebb and flow, and you want to leave him?

All the while, the Lemurian instincts of his would flare. Not the 'romantic' ones that humans tended to think of- like courting rituals- but something much more violent and dark. He would consider pulling you into the seas and keeping you there. Forever. You would be helpless. Completely dependent on him.

You would be very cautious of him due to his very vocal disagreement with your sentiments. He would not listen to you trying to tell him that this was for his own good. That this was all to make sure that he would have her in his life.

How could he leave you when he hadn't even made up for his terrible behaviour? How could you tell him that you'd leave him when he hadn't even gotten close to repaying you for rescuing his kinsfolk?

Rafayel knew you were someone to be worshipped by those worthy. You were his sole muse. A saviour that was beloved by his kinsfolk. The damned Weaver wouldn't get his spindly legs on you if he kept you hidden. And well. He knew others that would help with that.

Xavier

Xavier would be another one that would keep his disapproval quiet. You would still pick up on it, of course, considering how he'd give you the softest of looks and asking that you let him stay with you. He was your underboss. How would you take care of yourself without him acting as a decoy?

He would purse his lips and shake his head when you tell him that you had coped well enough before he had joined. And you'd urge him to become a Hunter once more. He would pretend to concede, but he'd already be planning. If you had been anyone but who you were, he would have elevated your position and kept that responsibility as a way to tether you to him. But you already had a position outside of his influence. If anything, he deferred to you.

So, the only option left was to... keep you. You would still be the leader of the Syndicate. You'd just be... working a lot less.

The only issue would be your EVOL. But that could be easily controlled. EVER did have more versions of the suppression collars they had used on him. He wouldn't collar you, of course. Jerimiah could fashion it into something softer. Nicer. The only downside of the EVOL suppression would be the fatigue and the slower cognition, but that would be fine.

You would be staying where he could watch over you. You would never be alone. You wouldn't need that sharp mind of yours that much anyway. You wouldn't skip meals or anything of the sort.

Xavier would keep you safe and sated. You'd get used to the sleepiness right in his arms. But he knew that he couldn't get the EVOL suppressing collar on his own nor could he run your Syndicate on his own for you. No. But he had others that could help with both.

Caleb

Yeah. No. Caleb would grin humourlessly and tell you that that wasn't happening. You had both condemned him and saved him. You were the reason he knew things- about Love and Deepspace, about his life being a plot, the love he held for her being nothing more than a trope, and Linkon not being real- and that knowledge had broken him. But you had also been his saviour. You saved him from EVER. You had stopped him from being forced to work with the Fleet.

You saved him. Leashed him. Promised that you'd keep him. And what? You were abandoning him now? You had ruined his life. You had ruined him. Now you were brushing off that responsibility? Brushing him off like he was nothing important to you? He had let you fo when you had briskly left the conversation. Because he knew that you wouldn't be getting far from him.

He had camera everywhere. In your bedroom. In your office. In every single place you frequented. He was more than adept at watching you as you had back when you were playing the game. That was fair, wasn't it? You kept him in the Destiny Cafe, and poked at him as you pleased. It was his turn now.

He would build a labyrinth for you. A large one that sprawled as big as you did. All-encompassing and winding. The labyrinth wouldn't be your cage. It wouldn't be your prison. It would be your sanctuary. Although the labyrinth has mainly been thought of as a prison that Minos built to keep the monster his wife had birthed, there were other interpretations he believed. That Minos had built the labyrinth to keep Asterius safe when everyone called him a monster and wanted him dead.

You would be contained. Loved. Your every action would be monitored and controlled. You didn't know how to take care of yourself, after all. Caleb would do it for you.

All together now (Poly/Aftermath)

Slowly, you came to. Your memory was slightly fuzzy. You remembered going to your mansion after a day of work. You vaguely remembered meeting with one of the love interests before everything went dark.

You were lying on some kind of soft surface. You were warm, as though you were

[Constellation, 'Trusted Traitor' asks if you're alright.]

You nodded and opened your mouth to respond, only to snap it shut when you felt arms tighten around you. When you felt a face burying into your chest. When you felt pairs of hands stroking you.

"Are you awake, my love?" Your eyes swivelled at Zayne's voice and saw that your were somehow resting on his lap. "Everything's fine. You're safe."

Oh, you didn't like that. You didn't like the edge in his tone nor the gentle hardness in his hazel eyes.

[Constellation, 'Unwilling Acceptor of Sacrifice' tells you that you were kidnapped.]

"Ugh, tell those stupid instruments to be quiet." Rafayel mumbled as he slowly raised his face from your chest. His pink-blue eyes sparkled darkly. "I'm glad to see you awake, boo."

"What's going on?" you asked, sincerely disoriented.

[Constellation, 'Light-seeking Queenmaker' tells you that the physically present versions of themselves seemed to have made a decision to confine you.]

Confine you? That was when you felt the weight on your neck. You tried to raise a hand to touch at what was weighing you down, but the arms that were wrapped around you touched it in your stead.

"Don't worry about it, my moon." Xavier's voice said, quiet and soft. "This is just something to keep you safe."

[Constellation, 'Caged Protector' tells you that you may be... caged.]

Yeah, no shit.

You tried to escape the pile of hot men that you had found yourself sitting in the middle of, but a familiar slithering of black and red energy stopped you.

"Stop that, honey. We don't want you straining yourself." Sylus voice was a low, playful drawl. "We promise we'll take care of you and all that's yours. All you need to do is let yourself be kept."

[Constellation, 'Half of the Cosmic Whole' asks if that would be too bad.]

Yes? You had a life that you had painstakingly built in this world despite your constantly warring thoughts and emotions? There was the main story you had been trying to get back on track at the expense of your own desires?

There was also the whole damned business with Astra that you had to deal with sooner or later?

"Come on, angel eyes." Caleb's faux playful voice sliced through the air and pulled you out of your thoughts as his evol pulled you away from the other four to instead have you somehow perched on top of his lap. "Is this too bad?"

Before you could say anything though, the violet-eyed love interest grinned sharply as he crashed his lips onto yours. Multiple pairs of hands grabbed at you. Stroking your flesh and squeezing. Lips pressing at your skin hotly. Nipping, biting, nibbling.

Well. Fuck it. You weren't going to say no to being imprisoned by several hot men that wanted you. You weren't an idiot. Besides, you really doubted that any of them would hurt you.

[Constellation, 'Forgotten Defier of Destiny' muses that this was one way to keep Astra away from you.]

“Her Royal Highness, Princess (Name) Qin,” the herald announced, his voice booming through the vast expanse of the Sanctum of Empyrean.

(Name) felt her body flinched unconsciously, with each syllable felt like a tolling bell marking her doom.

“Accompanied by His Grace, the Duke of Shen!”

Her heart suddenly dropped. She hadn’t even taken a step yet, not even having been able to breathe properly, but the gilded doors had already swung open, their heavy hinges creaking like groaning thunder. A thousand gazes turned toward her. The air inside the cathedral thickened, laced with the scent of incense and polished gold. Every noble, knight, and courtier in attendance turned their eyes to the pair entering—the supposed future ruler of the Empire, and the man standing protectively behind her. Whispers rose immediately like a tide, restrained but poisonous.

“The Duke again?”

“He never leaves her side.”

“They say he advises her on every decision.”

“Perhaps she’s only a puppet after all—one with Shen's pulling the strings.”

Their murmurs slithered across the marble floors, curling like smoke around her feet. It was too much—the sound of it all, the suffocating weight of their judgment, the echo of her own pulse pounding in her ears. She could feel Xavier’s steady presence behind her, yet she couldn’t take comfort in it. Her knees felt weak, her hands trembling beneath her leather gloves.

The moment she took her first step forward, it felt like walking to her own execution. The nobles’ gazes felt like knives against her back. The marble beneath her heels rang with hollow finality, every step echoing through the cathedral’s grand silence. And then—it struck again, that splitting pain behind her eyes. Another vision, tearing through her mind like lightning. The last thought that formed in her mind was, not this again before darkness consumed her, and let the familiar sensation seized her consciousness as it dragged her somewhere.

The world around her stabilized and finally became clear. It was the same cathedral, yet it was not. Something felt off. The brilliant banners that once celebrated the Imperial Family were gone and had been covered with black cloth, swallowing the colors beneath layers of grief. The sunlight that had poured through the stained-glass windows had disappeared entirely, replaced by an endless blanket of gray clouds hung beyond the cathedral walls. The candles lining the cathedral walls flickered weakly, their flames trembling beneath an unseen draft—while the air felt cold and heavy that made breathing seemed difficult. Oppressive even, as though grief itself had taken a form. (Name) immediately recoiled at her surroundings by the sudden confusion.

"What is this?"

Her question got lost into the endless emptiness of the cathedral. No answer came—instead a familiar blue screen appeared before her eyes.

>> [System Message: Vision Sequence Initiated.]

>> [Viewing Event: Highly Important—You (Princess Name Qin/Duchess (Name) Shen).]

>> [Observer Status: Locked. Exit Function Disabled. Complete the Sequence.]

Then a pause.

>> [Objective Updated: Proceed toward the altar.]

(Name) stared at the screen hovering before her. For several moments, she simply stood there. "...What?"

There was something wrong with this place. Something deeply wrong. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to leave. To run. To do anything except continue forward. Yet the system remained indifferent.

>> [Objective: Proceed toward the altar.]

"What altar?" she snapped. Her voice echoed throughout the empty cathedral. "What are you even trying to show me this time?"

When she turned to face the altar, her breath got caught in her throat. Resting before it was a white coffin—adorned with silver embroidery and the crest of the Imperial Family. A chilling sensation crawled down her spine. That wasn’t there earlier. Still, the response remained the same. The screen remained hovered before her eyes. (Name) clenched her jaw subconsciously as the tension in her chest grew. Ever since arriving in this world, the system had forced countless things upon her. Objectives. Warnings. Visions. This time, however, never had she hated it more than in this moment.

"What?!" (Name)'s eyes widened. "No, no, no, absolutely not."

She immediately turned around attempting to leave but there was nothing. The cathedral only stretched endlessly behind her. There was no exit. No door. No route for escape. Her pulse quickened as she started panicking.

>> [Objective: Proceed toward the altar.]

(Name) stared and let out a nervous laugh, "You've got to be kidding me." She took a step backward and the system responded instantly.

>> [System Warning: Non-compliance detected. Forced Progression Required.]

She found herself unable to move, as though she had been glued to the floor. No matter how hard she tried, her body refused to obey. Something—the system—pressed in around her, forcing compliance. She felt it take hold of her legs, subtle at first, then impossible to ignore, as if even her own body was no longer fully hers. For the first time, she felt fear. Not the ordinary kind. A creeping dread that settled into her bones as she realized she was losing control—not just of the situation, but of herself.

"...Damn you."

The words escaped through clenched teeth. Reluctantly, (Name) took a step forward. The marble floor echoed beneath her feet. One step then another—with each movement felt heavier than the last. The closer she approached the altar, the smaller the cathedral seemed to become.

Her pulse quickened. Something was waiting ahead. Something terrible. Something she already knew she would regret seeing. Until finally—she reached the coffin. Her breathing stopped. There, beneath the glass—was herself.

For several seconds she simply stared, her mind becoming completely blank. Unable to process what she was seeing. The world seemed to disappear around her. No thoughts. Only disbelief. Then reality struck. Her knees nearly gave out and her breath vanished from her lungs.

"N-No..."

The words came out broken.

"No."

Her entire body trembled. She stumbled backward, her eyes fixed upon the figure resting peacefully beneath the glass. Her face. Her hair. Her hands. Her body. Everything. Everything was hers. And everything was dead. A violent wave of nausea surged through her as bile rose up to her throat.

"That's not funny."

Her voice cracked.

"That's not funny!"

The coffin remained. Unmoving. Silent. Her corpse stared back. Peaceful. Motionless. Dead.

"This isn't real."

She shook her head.

"This isn't real."

Again. And again. (Name) shook her head desperately.

"I-I'm alive."

Her breathing became ragged. Panic clawed at her throat.

"I'm right here."

Still, the figure inside the coffin did not move. The system remained silent. The vision continued as though forcing her to stare, ensuring she understood every horrifying detail—to remember everything, every last bit of it.

"I-I'm alive."

Yet no matter how many times she repeated it, the woman inside the coffin remained motionless. The sight made her stomach churn. She wanted to look away. She wanted to close her eyes. To run. More than anything, for this entire nightmare to end. Instead—the system spoke once more.

>> [System Warning: OBSERVATION REQUIRED.]

"Please don't show me anymore!" She collapsed onto the cold marble floor as tears streamed freely down her face. Her hands shook violently as she pressed them against the stone for support. The vision shifted, and everything else faded away once more.

One moment, the funeral was still taking place. The next—only Xavier remained. The enormous cathedral felt impossibly empty. The silence was deafening. Slowly, Xavier approached the coffin. His footsteps echoed across the marble floor, and the sound instantly caught (Name)'s attention. She could only stare, tears still streaking her face. He walked past her—close enough that his steps passed just beside where she knelt on the cold floor—yet he never turned his head. Not one glance or pause. Xavier continued forward, as if she weren’t there at all.

When he finally stopped beside the coffin, the composure he had maintained throughout the entire funeral began to fracture. Only slightly. Just enough for the truth to emerge. His hand lifted toward the glass. He was trembling but barely noticeable yet she saw it.

His fingers came to rest against the surface separating him from her. An invisible barrier. Thin as glass. Impossible as death. For a long time, he said nothing. The silence stretched endlessly. Then finally—

"So this is what remains."

The words were barely audible. Almost a whisper. His eyes never left the woman resting inside the coffin. Not once. (Name)'s breath caught. Something tightened painfully in her chest.

"I promised I would protect you."

Another long silence followed.

"And I failed."

His voice cracked. Only once, but it was enough. Enough to reveal the devastation hidden beneath the mask. Enough to reveal the agony he had concealed before the Empire. Enough to reveal that this was no loyal duke mourning his princess. This was a man mourning the person who had been his entire world.

"N-No..." (Name) whispered.

The vision continued mercilessly. Slowly, Xavier's hand clenched into a fist. The grief remained but something else emerged alongside it. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by something colder. Something darker. Something infinitely more dangerous.

Hatred. Not the kind born from rage. Not the kind that burned brightly before fading away. No. This hatred was patient. The kind that waited. The kind that was planned. The kind that buried itself deep within the heart until the perfect opportunity arrived.

The candles throughout the cathedral dimmed. One after another. Their flames dying within the darkness. As the final light vanished, Xavier remained standing beside the coffin. Completely alone. While beyond those cathedral walls, the empire celebrated its survival—never realizing that the death of one woman had just created the very monster destined to destroy it.

>> [System Message: Synchronization Complete.]

Then the darkness swallowed everything as the ground violently shook. The cathedral faded gradually and the shadows consumed the world around her. Before (Name) was able to react, the system violently dragged her back toward reality.

“(Name)?”

Xavier's voice calling her name snapped her back to the present. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She blinked rapidly, her vision still blurry with afterimages of her own corpse. The cathedral hadn’t changed—it was still beautiful, golden, divine—but now it looked like a gilded cage.

Xavier’s voice was low, a murmur just loud enough for her to hear. “Are you alright?”

She nodded quickly, though her throat felt too tight to speak. He looked unconvinced, his sharp eyes narrowing, but he said nothing more. They walked. Step after step, until she reached the altar, where the Archpriest awaited with the ceremonial crown of Philos—a crown of gold, gleaming with the cold light of distant stars. Xavier remained a step behind her, as decorum demanded, but she could feel his presence like gravity itself, anchoring her and suffocating her in equal measure.

From where she stood, (Name) looked out upon the sea of nobles. Every jeweled face blurred into the next—masks of politeness, of power, of deceit. She tried to steady her breathing, tried to scan their faces one by one, searching—searching for him, the man from her vision. The one who had assassinated her, leading to her death. The problem was there were too many of them. Dozens of lords and noble ladies stood in the pews, each one carrying the bloodline of some ancient house, each a potential enemy.

Beneath the flicker of chandeliers made their expressions impossible to read, every shadow turning suspicion into certainty. She felt her pulse quickened as inner panic tried to rise. As she searched the crowd again and again, desperately trying to find the face she remembered from her final moments. I can’t see him. I can’t see anyone—then from that moment, the system flickered to life before her eyes.

>> [System Warning: Death Route Imminent.] >> [Countdown Initiation: Failure and Consequences will be IMMEDIATE.] >> [Objective: Survive the Coronation.]

The system’s final message glowed in bright red. This was all far too cruel. Unfair, even. Her heart slammed against her ribs as the faint glow of the system’s countdown pulsed in her vision. The choir began to sing. The archpriest raised the crown. The pieces suddenly fell into place. Ice crawled through her veins as memory resurfaced.

The novel's cryptic prelude—the one she had dismissed as vague nonsense that that seemed completely disconnected from the chapters that followed. She had thought it was a mistake. An odd paragraph the author had accidentally left behind, forgotten during editing and never removed. But it hadn't been a mistake at all. It had been a warning—it was actually a clue hidden. The words echoed through her thoughts with chilling clarity.

“A hero would stain his hands in sin and be hailed as a savior.

A tyrant would fall and be remembered as a monster.

A prince would claim the throne he believed was his by right, a crown whose price was blood.

Leaving behind only grief—and a truth left unanswered.”

There was no more running. No more delay. This was it. Her hands trembled as she lowered herself to her knees before the altar, eyes fixed on the crown that was about to seal her fate. Behind her, Shen Xinghui stood like a sentinel, his gloved hands clasped, his expression unreadable as ever—but she could feel the tension in him, the storm waiting to break.

The song swelled, echoing through the high ceilings of the cathedral, beautiful and foreboding. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t supposed to be here, that this wasn’t her story. However, she knew the truth now—every step, every choice she made would entangle the fates of the people around her. If she failed, she wouldn’t be the only one to die.

That mere thought terrified her because understanding the truth changed nothing. Despite all of that, she still hadn't managed to come up with a plan to evade her death and all she could do was watch it unfold.

The choir’s final note faded slowly into the background.

>> [System Countdown: 5 . . . 4 ]

She wasn't ready.

She wasn't ready at all.

>> [System Countdown: 3 . . . 2 ]

There had to be some way.

>> [System Countdown: 1... ]

The Archpriest lifted the crown higher and just as the metal touched her hair—the system’s timer hit zero.

Everything unfolded all at once, in the blink of an eye.

The blare of trumpets still echoed through the vaulted arches of the cathedral when the first gunshot rang—sharp, deafening, and final. The sound tore through the ceremony like a wound splitting open. (Name)’s eyes widened, her hand frozen mid-motion as the crown slipped from her trembling fingers. The golden circlet struck the marble floor, its fall resonating in the vast silence that followed. Ringing out like the toll of a funeral bell, its echoes seemed endless.

For a heartbeat, she could hear nothing but the echo of her own pulse—steady, unrelenting, and cruelly slow.

Then came the chaos. Screams erupted from the balconies, guards shouted orders, nobles fled from their seats in a frenzy of silks and jewels. The ceremonial banners of the Philos Empire swayed violently in the sudden rush of wind as shards of stained glass rained down from above, the holy light breaking into a thousand fractured colors. Outside, the storm roared as if the heavens themselves had chosen this moment to bear witness.

(Name) didn’t even realize she had stopped breathing. When she blinked, she found herself on the floor. The cold marble pressed against her back, her view filled by the vaulted ceiling and flickering candlelight—and the heavy weight of someone on top of her. The scent of rain, iron, and something unmistakably warm filled her lungs.

Xavier.

His voice broke the paralysis in her mind.

“I…cannot bear to watch you die again.”

She stared up at him, her mind faltering at first—catching only fragments of words as her thoughts spiraled into disbelief. Again?

“You wouldn’t have been proud of me,” he murmured, his breath becoming ragged. “Not of what I became after your death. A tyrant—that’s what they called me. Perhaps they were right.” Xavier slightly closed his eyes, as if he were recounting the past.

(Name)’s lips parted, yet no sound managed to came out. Her shaking hands pressed against his shoulders, feeling the slick warmth of blood seeping through his coat.

“Xavier, oh god—” she whispered, her voice cracking, “y-you’re— you’re bleeding—”

“I killed them,” he continued weakly, taking shallow breaths, as if driven by some unseen compulsion, his gaze unfocused and distant. Despite that, he forced himself to look at her, holding her gaze with stubborn determination as though surrendering it would mean surrendering to the darkness creeping at the edges of his vision. Then he continued, despite struggling to steady his breathing, “Every single one of them who plotted against you. I burned cities. I drowned dynasties. But still—” he coughed, the blood staining his lips, “—still, I failed. In the end, it was your damn brother who killed me.”

Her mind reeled. None of this made sense. He wasn’t supposed to die—she was. The vision had shown her dying, not him. What did he mean by again? And how could he possibly know about Sylus—? The system flickered alive before her eyes, glowing faintly through her blurred tears.

>> [Mission: Evade Death — Complete.] >> [System Message: Congratulations, Host. Timeline divergence successful.]

(Name) felt her heart lurch. The words twisted something inside her—success, it said, yet all she could feel was dread.

“Xavier, stay with me,” she said desperately, pressing her hand against his wound. “You can’t— You can’t say things like that—”

His eyes softened, the faintest trace of a smile curving his lips, while his hand reached out to cup her cheek as he wiped away her tears. “You lived this time… t-that’s enough.”

The sight of him like this—pale, broken, and fragile, tore through her. This was the same man who had carried himself with unyielding composure, whose voice could silence a room full of nobles and send them trembling, who had stood in the protagonist's way at every turn. And now he was lying against her, trembling from blood loss, yet somehow still trying to reassure her.

“Xavier please,” she choked out, gripping his sleeve. “You’re not allowed to die. Not here. Not now please—”

The sound of boots striking marble interrupted her plea. The sea of crowd had parted.

At the center of the aisle, framed by the cathedral’s shattered light and the rain pouring in from the open doors, a man walked forward. His steps were deliberate, his expression unreadable, his posture that of someone long accustomed to power. His dark coat bore the insignia of the royal house, and his gloved hand rested at his side.

Sylus Qin.

He moved with unnerving calm, his sharp gaze sweeping over the chaos as if it amused him, as if it was expected. Behind him, the guards hesitated, unsure whether to bow or raise their weapons. He then approached the frozen lords who stood behind—his allies in name, if not in loyalty—who looked as though they had already witnessed something Sylus himself had not yet come to understand.

"Lord Zhang," Sylus said, his tone measured, almost amused, "I had been waiting for your signal… but patience is not my strongest virtue. No matter—I’ve arrived regardless."

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sylus’s voice rang clear over the crowd, steady and commanding despite the storm. “Do not panic.” He spread his arms in mock reassurance. “A tragedy has just befallen us... but fate has its ways.”

(Name) froze, her body trembling as she pulled Xavier closer.

“For years,” Sylus continued, “the Empire has hidden the truth. The late Emperor had a son—me. The rightful heir. The true blood of Philos.”

A ripple of shock coursed through the cathedral—gasps, disbelief, outrage, and fear. The nobles exchanged looks like cornered prey.

“And now,” Sylus said smoothly, his gaze falling upon (Name), “with the future queen struck down—”

He suddenly stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking onto the figure at the altar. She wasn’t dead. She was alive. A flicker of surprise suddenly creeped into his unreadable expression. Had no one informed him?

(Name) lifted her head, blood and tears streaking her face. Her gown was soaked in Xavier’s blood, her trembling hands still pressed firmly against his wound. Xavier’s breathing was shallow, but he was alive. The sight must have struck Sylus like a blow.

Their eyes met across the chaos—hers defiant, his faltering. For the first time, the smirk faltered from Sylus's face.

“You—” Sylus whispered, his voice wavering ever so slightly as if trying to regain his composure, “you survived.”

The nobles around them murmured louder, confusion spreading like wildfire. Guards exchanged uncertain glances, unsure whom to obey. The system flashed another warning in the corner of her vision, the text pulsing red.

>> [System Warning: Anomaly expanding. Await Further Instructions. Be prepared.]

The rest of the world ceased to matter to (Name) at that very moment. All she could see was Sylus’s stunned expression and Xavier’s fading one. The nightmare wasn’t over—it had only just begun. Outside, thunder roared again. The shattered crown at her feet caught the light from the chandelier—a broken circle of gold between the usurper and the dying duke.

Tag-list: @maryy237, @hiqhkey, @pirana10, @needsumcomfypillowstosleep, @uruhali, @am-drawings, @jelxqa, @hemmosfear, @deadlyskepticalnightmare, @gojoswaterbottle

Dividers: @thecutestgrotto ; Art from Pinterest

The cupcakes won’t judge you, and neither will the lumpia.

The lack of conversation around you makes melancholy well up in your chest. You were never good at attracting conversation, much less maintaining it, so perhaps it’s a good thing that you remained by yourself during this entire ceremony. Even though you yearn to feel less alone, maybe this is for the best.

Maybe the cupcakes and lumpia will be your only companions tonight.

You sigh as you walk back to your table of strangers. They don’t notice you at first since their eyes are on the beverage stand currently being stocked up with bottles of what can only be assumed is wine, but as you take a bite of your cupcake, your eyes land on a specific someone.

You recognize him as the man who sat on the pew next to you at the wedding. He stepped out to help the flower girl distribute petals all over the aisle, caught the ring when the ring bearer dropped it as they walked, and cried when the vows were being said. You had watched those violet eyes dart around the church more than you’d watched your friend’s wedding, it seems.

But now, he’s organizing the beverage stand with other men you recognize from the ceremony, and your eyes cannot focus anywhere else. His smile is infectious and spills over to the others, his jokes make the table across them laugh, and when he holds a bottle of rosé to read its contents… his muscles peek out of his suit’s sleeve.

The complementary water does nothing to soothe your thirst.

“They’re taking a while, aren’t they?” one of the ladies at your table comments. “I just hope the stand’s open when the speeches happen.”

“Really? I prefer hearing the speeches sober. They’re very sweet.”

“They’re sweeter with wine.”

You don’t even register the conversation until you feel a nudge on your shoulder. “Yes?” you say, panic welling up in your chest. Have you done something wrong?

“You’re eyeing Caleb, aren’t you?” the lady beside you asks. Her smile is welcoming, but her eyes gleam under the chandelier. “Don’t worry. He’s single.”

You have to blink to register the fact that they’re talking to you.

Caleb. Caleb is his name.

“He and the groom go way back. He was actually the one who urged him to flirt with his crush, who is now his wife.”

You say nothing, but you take note of everything being said. You notice that Caleb has the natural instinct to help others in everything he does. How sweet.

By now, the stand is fully organized. The bottles are displayed atop of a black bar table, and a line quickly builds up soon after. You watch Caleb’s eyes widen and the way they quickly soften when the first customer approaches with their request.

“Direct all orders to my friend. I’m not good with drinks,” he sheepishly admits, that stupid smile appearing on his face.

“Wanna get drinks with us?” the ladies ask you abruptly. Their friendliness is unfamiliar when all you’ve known are snark remarks from old “friends,” but you shake your head at the offer with the excuse of needing to finish your plate first.

You find yourself alone again, watching your surroundings like you’re working security and not a friend of the bride. Conversations erupt and grow louder in volume as the line to the stand adds up, the couple’s families talk amongst each other to presumably prepare for their speeches, and the music changes from the usual pop song to a ballad.

“Kiss from a Rose? Really?” someone comments. It makes the ceremony erupt in laughter, and your faint smile appears too.

The song’s lyrics are all that occupies your mind as you continue eating your food. Your half-devoured cupcake stares at you as you mouth the lyrics to yourself, a concert erupting in your head with your food as your only witness.

Well, at least you thought so.

When the song ends and smoothly introduces a Filipino ballad, you feel a light touch on your shoulder. You freeze, dread encompassing your entire body, until a familiar voice counters it with its sweetness.

“You looked lovely, like a swaying flower.”

You turn around, your thoughts proven right when Caleb stands there with a small smile on his face. It’s the same one he had when he watched the newlyweds share their vows and when he helped the flower girl. It’s the same sparkle as when happiness consumes him completely.

“Oh,” you whisper shyly. “T-thank you.”

Caleb shamelessly takes the seat next to you, making your heart flutter. “I hope you didn’t mind my tears back at the wedding.”

Oh, so he did notice you, and he noticed you looking at him.

You take a sip of water to hide the tint of your cheeks, gasping when you find the cup to be empty. Caleb’s smile hides a much bigger laugh, but he doesn’t show it.

“Do you need more water?”

Your mouth moves before your mind does. “No. Your tears were enough.”

As soon as those words leave your lips, your hands fly to your mouth. Murmured apologies are all that encompass this newfound conversation, hoping that your new company doesn’t run away. You’ve dealt with that too many times in the past.

But, to your surprise, Caleb’s smile widens.

The sparks in his eyes brighten with every apology, and his hand moves to pull yours off of your mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay. That was hilarious.”

Hilarious?

In the spaces you always occupied, that would’ve pushed people away. It would’ve been hilarious only to the people who already disliked you because it gave them an excuse to mock you. 

You wait for Caleb to leave, to tell you that he had something to do.

But he doesn’t.

He just stares at you.

Those violet eyes read your expression, and judging by his slight frown, he understands.

His hands clutch yours like a familiar comfort as your anxiety builds up from within, drowning you in its waters. “I like your jokes.”

You grip his hand tightly, feeling his veins and scars and warmth. “Thank you,” comes out as a soft, shy whisper. Not fully convinced, but not hesitant in the possibility that he may be telling the truth.

The music changes to a more upbeat song, and you clear your throat to get rid of the silence between you. “I’ll grab some more food.”

Escaping has always been the safe route.

You expect to be back at the food stands all on your own, like the first three times you did the same. The pork barbecue and desserts are the only ones catching your attention, nothing else. Not your anxiety, not the cutie that makes butterflies well up in your tummy.

But you didn’t expect that same cutie to linger behind you as you browse the food options, looking at you like you’re the spectacle.

“Do you want recommendations?” you murmur slyly.

He smiles. “No need. I cooked half of the items here.”

That makes you turn around. With your plate in one hand and your heart in the other, you stare at this man as though he were an angel. He might as well be, considering his creations have saved you multiple times tonight.

“You…” you say in utter disbelief. “What can’t you do?”

His smile is accompanied by his raised brow. “What do you mean?”

You hear his soft laugh when you turn towards the food instead of answering his ridiculous question. The answer should be obvious enough, no? 

As you walk back to your table with Caleb following close behind, microphones are being set up for those who are giving speeches. Your heart braces for Caleb to leave your side to help out, but he’s glued to your every move.

With every bite you take of your cupcake, he does the same with his pork barbecue. When you look into your purse, he does the same with his pockets.

“Aren’t you going to help them set up?” you finally ask.

“Do you want me to?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just thought that since you’ve had a hand in every inch of this wedding, you’d want to help out.”

Caleb laughs that same hearty laugh, opening worlds you’d never known existed.

“I want to stay here with you, though,” he says simply, like it’s normal and not the words you’ve wanted to hear your entire life. “They can survive without me.”

But as Lady Luck would have it, one of the men trip over a cord, eliciting gasps and laughter all throughout the reception. You look at Caleb with every intention of giggling. “You sure?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have prevented that even if I was there.”

“Oh, so you would have tripped him?”

There goes your mouth again.

And there is his smile, bright and amused by all the words you regret to say aloud.

“Not quite, but I’m not entirely perfect like you seem to think I am.”

“I do not!”

He laughs again, turning towards where the newlyweds stand once the mics are on and working. Speeches become your entertainment, and Caleb becomes the audience to your every thought. He laughs with every remark and smiles with every ounce of yourself you show to him. 

Dancing was even more interesting. Crowds weren’t so bad once all of your attention went to one person and to the music that accompanies every step. You’ve never been in sync with another, but with Caleb, your heart feels at peace.

“Just like that,” Caleb would say right before you accidentally stepped on his foot, but he never got angry. Only amused, only smitten.

You leave the reception with a smile on your face, Caleb’s number in your purse, a ton of food, and the bouquet from the wedding toss.

a/n: Caleb is so freakin' sweet. To me, he comes off as the guy that helps out with everything because people keep calling him for help lol, and he's glad to do so <333

Thank you for reading! Any form of interaction is appreciated. Take care :)

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

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

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

"Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But it's from her..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Everything you just mentioned was all for you."

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

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

Everything was for you.

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

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

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

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

"Make? My favorites?"

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

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

“You… You’re not joking, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

you remember the heat of his whisper against your wet lips as he broke free from a promiscuous kiss — “don’t make a sound, my princess.”— and the way he kneeled beneath your vanity table, covering himself with your garments.

you remember how his calloused hands parted your legs, how his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your thighs.

taking what he craved so badly, without even caring about anything else.

now tara was brushing out your hair, her movements slow and methodical, while simone was heating the curling tongs by the fireplace. they chattered softly about the evening’s ball, about which lords have arrived at court, about the quality of the new shipment of rose oil from the southern provinces.

you could barely hear them over the thunder of your own pulse.

rafayel’s mouth was on you.

he had your cunt spread open with his thumbs, his tongue working in broad, greedy stripes from your weeping, pulsing hole to the aching bud of your clit.

he was devouring you like a man starved, carrying a shameless hunger that made your thighs tremble against his ears.

you could feel the wet heat of his breath, the firm press of his nose against your clit, the way he moaned into your flesh like you were a delicacy.

all while your chambermaids attended to you.

“ah–”

you let out softly, gripping the edge of the vanity. trying to keep your composure.

“your highness? is the chair uncomfortable?” tara, always so attentive, asked through the haze. she even stopped brushing, leaning in to check on your wellbeing.

you shook your head rapidly, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. “no, no. please, continue.”

your voice came out steadier than you expected, thank gods.

rafayel, listening in, decided to reward your composure by sucking your clit into his mouth, tightening his lips harder around the swollen flesh.

you had to bite the inside of your cheek to not cry out in pleasure.

but what could be hidden... that was none of your concern. as such, your hips jerked involuntarily, pressing yourself against his face, and he let out a sound of approval, vibrating directly into your most sensitive parts.

very pleased by your reactions.

simone returned with the heated tongs as if on cue. tara started to section your hair and, together, they began to curl away, softly giggling at whatever gossip they’ve heard recently.

beneath your skirts, rafayel had lost all pretense of restraint.

he pulled back just enough to see your soaked pussy, his lips slick with spit and arousal. a short guttural moan escaped his throat, but it was not registered by the chatty maids.

rafayel dived back in happily, tongue plunging into your entrance, lapping up every bit of wetness you produced.

the sounds were obscene — wet, sloppy, rhythmic — and you prayed that the rustle of your gown and the hiss of the curling iron masked them.

and to your dismay, the besieging only intensified.

his fingers joined the torture, sliding into your needy hole with ease, curling upwards to find that spot that makes your vision blur in extasy. he scissored them gently, stretching you, while his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit.

good heavens, that combination was lethal.

you were so close. the pressure built in your lower belly, a coil tightening with every stroke, every flick, every breathy exhale of his against your sensitive pussy.

you wanted to grab his hair. you wanted to grind down on his face until you suffocated him.

you wanted to have him just like he was having you.

instead, you sat perfectly still as simone pinned your curls.

“yes, prince xavier is said to be quite handsome.” tara mused, unaware that your legs were shaking, that you weren’t — and couldn’t be — paying attention to their gossip. “perhaps he’ll seek you out.”

rafayel chuckled against your cunt at that. his fingers pumped faster, harder, and his mouth sealed around your clit in a harsh suction.

making his opinion on that neighbouring prince obvious.

your legs clasped around his head violently, quivering uncontrollably from the incoming orgasm.

“your highness?” simone tilted her head. “are you unwell?.”

you managed a breathless laugh. “i am just… a bit anxious.”

beneath your skirts, rafayel doubled his efforts. now he was fucking you with his tongue and his fingers in turns, an unceasing rhythm that left no part of you untouched.

he licked at your entrance, then trailed upwards to suck your clit, only to return to thrust his tongue inside you as deep as possible.

and with that, the coil snapped.

your orgasm crashed over you without warning; your teeth sank into your lower lip until you tasted copper, trying to muffle your erotic moans.

you let out only the softest, quietest whimper, barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

rafayel, ever the dutiful servant, worked you through it, tongue gentle and soothing, collecting every last drop of your release.

“there.” tara said, stepping back to admire her work. “you look perfect, your highness.”

in the mirror, you saw a princess with elegant curls piled atop her head, with very flustered cheeks and glistening eyes.

between your legs, rafayel pressed one final kiss to your inner thigh. his lips, wet when they brushed your skin, quietly mumbled the same verdict as tara:

“you look perfect, your highness.”

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

you nearly trip as you round the final corner that separates you. but when you finally reach the room where his meetings are held, the hulking figure looming outside gives you pause. 

“you need something?” 

he’s one of sylus’s men—bruce, if you remember right—but you haven’t spoken to him much. surely, though, he’s seen you around?

swallowing thickly, you wring your hands out in front of you. “i was looking for sylus. i was hoping i could talk to him.”

if he notices the tremor in your body, he doesn’t say anything. “boss is busy right now. you can come back when he’s done.” 

when he’s done? 

“um…are you sure?” you protest weakly. “he usually doesn’t care if—”

“i’m sure, alright?” for some reason, he sounds exasperated. “look, this deal is important to us, and he doesn’t need any distractions. just wait for him to finish.”  

the words bounce in your brain. they feel wrong. you feel wrong. but if your presence ever sabotaged his work, you’d blame yourself for weeks. 

biting your lip, you nod once and turn on your heel, dragging your feet back to your shared bedroom. 

you’ve been hugging your knees for what feels like hours when the door creaks open. almost immediately, the scent of home fills the room, wrapping around you like the hug you needed earlier. 

“sylus?” you croak, pushing yourself up on the mattress. “are…are you free now?”

he pauses for a moment, then flicks the nearest lamp on its lowest setting. in the warm, reddish light, you see his elevated eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

“i know you were in a meeting. i almost went to see you, but the guard said i shouldn't disturb you. so i’ve been waiting here.” 

“disturb,” he repeats, like the word is foreign on his tongue. “you…disturb…me?” 

his head is angled to the side, like a puppy’s during its first encounter with the bathtub. you decide against telling him this, only nodding instead. 

as soon as you do, the shadows of snarl creep onto his face. “why were you coming to see me?”

“i was just anxious, i guess. it wasn’t that much worse than usual.” the back of your neck warms, and you scratch it nervously. “since you usually help me, i thought maybe you could this time, too. but it’s okay,” you rush. “i feel better now.”

he shuts his eyes, letting out a three-second sigh. then, he comes to the bed, sits down beside you, and tucks you into his side. “he’s fired.”

startled, you raise your head as much as his bear paw of a hand allows. “what?”

“the guard you ran into. he’ll be gone by morning,” he says simply. 

your heart hammers in your chest again—this time, out of guilt. “but—i’m sure it was a misunderstanding. he was only trying to make sure your meeting went well, and i could have come in at a bad time, and—”

the wry curve of his lips tells you he’s not convinced. “alright, sweetie. let’s say i keep him on. this first time, you’re upset, and he thinks it’s not worth telling me. what happens next, then? you’re hurt, and i don’t find out until it’s too late?”

he takes your silence as a sign to continue. 

“if you were in danger and someone kept you from coming to me,” he begins, voice dipping in with conviction, “i’d do much, much worse than fire them. consider this a blessing, sweetie. you’re doing the man a favor.”

you chew your lip and fiddle with your hands, unable to fully believe him. “i guess.” 

gently, he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head until your eyes meet. “i want you to see me anytime, no matter the reason. even if you don't have one. your problems are my problems, and my time is yours.”

you can’t hold his gaze for very long—you never can. but when you wrap your arms around his torso, he knows he’s gotten through to you. 

“good. now, why don’t you tell me what you were so anxious about?”

you stiffen against him, but only momentarily. “i don’t really want to.” 

he lets out a bewildered scoff. “hmm?”

“you’re here now, and i’m happy. i want to focus on that instead,” you say, shoving your face into his chest. 

he lets his body buckle slightly from the force, his rich chuckle setting your mind at ease. “alright, then. how was the rest of your day?”

a week later, a taller, bigger, much nicer guard knocks on the dark oak door. nodding your head in thanks, you enter after a moment’s preparation, and the mix of deep voices falls to a hush. 

the meeting is over. you know that as soon as sylus’s eyes find yours, softening from warmth and relief. “thank you, morgan,” he calls to the new guard. then, he cuts his eyes across the sleek round table. “i’ll have the room now. follow up in three days.” 

scraping their chairs against the hardwood floors, the other men nod their heads and clear out. once the door shuts behind them, sylus turns his chair toward you and pats his thigh. you rush into his open arms without a second thought. 

“hi, sweetie,” he murmurs into your hair. “what is it?”

heat rushes to your cheeks. you bite the inside of your left one. “i…”

humming inquisitively, he gives an encouraging squeeze to the side of your waist. “you…?”

“i…am bored.”

pulling back a bit, sylus examines you carefully, checking to see if you’re serious. when all you do is stare back at him, fighting the urge to cover your face, a snort builds to a wheeze, then to a bark of laughter. “and we can't have that, can we?” he teases, eyes twinkling like roses in starlight. 

sheepish, you shake your head and try to double down. “we can’t. my problems are your problems.” 

“they are. you’re a quick learner,” he rumbles, gently bringing your foreheads together. “how lucky is it that i’m bored, too? had that meeting gone any longer, i would’ve had to remove our honored guests from the base.” 

shifting on his lap, you squint down at him. “by kindly asking them to leave, right?” 

“something like that,” he replies, and you try to suppress the image of fifteen bodies being flown out the front door. “in any case, what should we do instead?”

“well, there’s this rainforest documentary i want to watch. or we could keep watching that vampire drama, or we could play that game i beat you at last time—”

“i have no memory of that.” 

“I do.” you steamroll over him. “or you could walk me through the armory again, or…”

as you spew out options, you’re almost oblivious to the way he maneuvers you in his hold. soon enough, though, you’re intensely aware of the kisses he scatters over your cheeks, stealing your focus until your lips tug into a frown. “you’re not listening, are you?”

“of course i am,” he whispers, hands roaming over your skin. “your ideas are great, kitten. it’s just…there’s no need to rush. why don't we start going down the list, say, an hour from now?”

you can barely nod before he pulls you into a searing kiss, any and all boredom going up in smoke. you don’t know how long you stay there with him, touching until your bodies blur together. an hour, two—you’re not sure, you don’t care. 

You've had a long day. You just got out a very long headache inducing meeting and were recovering from it in your office before you got back to the documents you were reviewing.

That was the exact moment your mum chose to call you. Not regular voice call but a video call. You had nothing against the woman but sometimes (read: most times) she just had the ability to make you get mad in a matter of seconds.

You answered the call before you could second guess yourself. The first few seconds were fine, normal even with her asking you about your day, if you ate and the regular mum stuff.

After around 5 minutes is when she started acting weird like she was trying to figure out how to broach a subject. You could sense what was coming and you realised you were not as prepared as you thought you were.

"Can I ask you something?" You mum said, looking straight at you that felt like she was seeing straight through you.

"You're going to ask even if I say no. So, ask away." You replied placing your pen back in the stand.

"Are you dating someone?" She jumped straight to the point, not beating around the bush.

"What gave you that impression?" You asked, not wanting to reveal your cards early.

"I just had a feeling and I heard something."

"Heard what?"

"That you are dating someone." She stated simply.

"And who told you that?"

"Does it matter? What matters is if its true or not." She was starting to get frustrated with your lack of answers.

"And if it was?" You asked sitting straighter in your chair.

"Is he from our community?"

You had to take a deep breath when she asked that question because of course she did. "No."

"Oh. Why?" She asked and that one word question filled you with incomprehensible rage and frustration.

"What do you mean 'why'?" You asked, shifting to English. "Why am I dating him? Why is he not from our community? I'm dating him because I like him and I don't care if he is or is not from our community."

"Your father is not going to like this." She said and you knew she believed that.

"You don't know that. It's you that doesn't like this." You were really getting tired and you just wanted this call to end.

"Why are you doing this to us?" You mum was starting to tear up and you were losing all sense of propriety and sanity.

"Are you serious right now? You had a problem that I was single all these years and now that I found a guy that I really like you have a problem with that too? You haven't asked a single thing about him beyond whether or not he is from our community and decided that this was bad. I'm not doing anything to you. I am just living my life the way I want to." You were getting angrier and you knew that you were almost yelling but you just could not give a fuck.

But you still decided to take a deep breath before continuing, "I'm not talking about this any further. Regardless of whether you approve or not, I am still going to continue my relationship with him. I have a lot of work to get back to. I'll talk to you later." You hung up, not waiting for a response.

You kept your phone back on the table and decided to go for a smoke before you got back to work.

You were at your usual spot, smoking when you thought back to your conversation with your mum. You should have seen it coming. Of course they would still be the same despite the number of years that passed. You let out the last puff of smoke with a sigh and crushed the cigarette with your heel.

You wanted to go home. To Sylus.

But you went back to your office and you could feel Elijah's eyes on you as you walked past him. You felt him follow you to your office and turned to look at him once you heard the door close behind the two of you.

"You should probably go home." He told you. "You've been complaining of a headache since this noon."

"I'm fine. I still need to review that document before we pass it on to the client." You said as you sat at your desk.

"You know you're not in the right head space for that right now. You're only going to make your headache worse." He tried again.

You knew that he was right. You knew that your brain would see words on that paper and not read them. But a part of you was stubborn - wanting to prove yourself. But to whom? You mum was not here. Elijah already knew what you were capable of. So did everyone on this floor.

You let out a deep sigh. "You're right. You should go home too."

"Right behind you." He said with a smile.

"I hate that you know me too well." You mumbled as you began packing your bag.

"You're welcome." He replied with a cheeky smile making you chuckle.

As you were walking to your car, you saw that Sylus had invited you over for dinner because he was trying out a new recipe. You immediately replied that you would love to be his guinea pig and the thought of seeing him made you happy

As you stepped into Sylus's apartment, you noticed that it smelled absolutely delicious and familiar.

"What are you making?" You aked, walking towards the kitchen.

"Almost done. I tried making that tomato chutney you said you liked. I will make the dosa once you're done showering. He showed you the bowl of chutney he made with a proud smile.

"Come with me." You pulled him towards the living room and pushed him to sit on the couch. Before he could ask any questions, you sat on his lap. You were essentially straddling him as you pressed yourself closer, hugging him. "Thank you."

"It's nothing, kitten." He said, wrapping his arms around you.

The two of you stayed there, sitting in each others embrace in heavy silence. It was the kind of silence that communicated a lot without requiring any words.

After what you thought was close to 10 minutes, you broke the silence, "Did Elijah say something?"

Sylus let out of hum, "He told me that you had a long day at work."

"I did." You confirmed. "I'm so tired." You could feel yourself tearing up even though you did not want to cry.

"I'm right here, kitten. You can let it all go. I'm right here to catch you." He told you, rubbing your back and that just made you let out all the tears you had been holding back.

Even after there were no more tears left, you stayed right there in his warm embrace. "Sylus?"

He let out a hum to let you know that he was listening.

"Will you shower once again before we go make dosa?" You had to ask him that. You had essentially cross contaminated him because you were all over him with your outside clothes and you just had a thing about handling food and touching your bedding with all those dust and germs and what not.

"Of course, sweetie." Sylus chuckled, placing a kiss on your head. "We can take a bath together if you would like."

"I'm hungry. We can shower together. Just shower." You said, turning to look at him.

"Just shower." Sylus confirmed with a chuckle before carrying you to the bathroom.

After the shower, the two of you went back to the kitchen to make dosa and you finally found the one thing he could not do - make a dosa that is round and crispy. That for some reason made you feel vindicated. So, you took over that part as he observed your 'technique' to try another day.

The two of you were cuddling on the bed after dinner and he was telling you about his day - at your insistence - and you just had the overwhelming urge to just stay there and forget the whole world.

You placed a soft kiss on his chest - right over his heart. "You're too good to me." You said in a low voice.

"I don't think so. I think we are just right for each other." He said, pulling you closer into a hug.

You let out a content hum, closing your eyes to listen to his heart beat. That sound always had a soothing effect on you but then again, even being in his presence had that effect on you. You mumbled a quick good night as the warmth surrounding you was pushing you into the arms of slumber. Right before your consciousness faded you realised that you were finally home and there was no where you'd rather be.

A/N: My mouth was literally watering at just me imagining dosa with tomato chutney and now I want it 😭 For those who haven't tried it omg please find a local Indian restaurant and try itt! It's 14349320% worth it