pomegranatepip

[pomegranatepip]

A little too warm and a little too vulnerable

WC: 614

Warnings: Afab reader.

There were no romantic candles. No roses. There wasn’t even music playing in the background.

Granted, even if either of you had time to plan it, it would have gotten in the way and would have been removed anyway.

***

The water was barely warm if you could even call it that- not that you’d noticed or cared; you’d been in the water for too long at this point, your fingers pruned from the time you’d been in the tub, Rafayel between your legs.

Blooms of purples, reds, and blues adorned both of your skins, your thumb smoothing over a fresh one you placed on Rafayel’s collarbone.

His necklace was cool against your skin, starkly contrasting to the water. His hair, wet, tickled your chin where his head rested on your chest.

Arms around your waist, he laid into your body.

Iridescent scales littered his body randomly. They shimmered blue under the moonlight streaming in from the window.

How long have you been sitting here?

Doesn't matter.

Rafayel’s tail was far too big for the tub; it draped over the porcelain edge of it and rested on the floor.

His breathing was heavy as if he had just run a marathon, but really, he was just hot.

Too hot.

“Rafayel, leaning into me isn't going to make your fever any better.”

“I know.”

“Why don't we get up? We can dry you down, let you cool down till your legs come back-”

“No. I'm comfortable here.”

“Clearly.”

He sighs, planting a quick kiss above your nipple. His index draws invisible lines on your skin, tracing the curves and dips.

“That's a new necklace. Where'd you get it?”

The silver chain wrapped around his neck was indeed new, and on it rested his wedding band.

“Not new, I had it for a while- didn't wanna accidentally lose my ring or get paint on it.”

You hummed, and it was quiet again.

His tail smacks the floor occasionally. You put water on it.

Rafayel looks up suddenly, pushing himself up a little till he's eyes level with you.

“You know you’re important to me, right?”

“Hm? Of course. Why?”

He relaxes a little. “I dunno…”

He avoids your gaze, and you grab his face, making him look at you.

Your lips form a small ‘o’ at what was revealed.

There's tears in his eyes. You watched one form, the droplet building up in his waterline, rolling over his lash line, crystalizing. A pearl drop falls into the tub with a quiet splash.

You both watch it, your gaze returning sooner than his.

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone... All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” it comes out quiet. You strains to hear it.

“Would you still like me…no matter who I become?”

He grabs your chin, not giving you a chance to answer before he presses into you, his lips pressing against yours desperately. You pull away to catch your breath but Rafayel dips in again.

It’s only till he pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips, do you react.

Your curious look turns into a frown, and you flick his forehead.

“He-ow! What was that for?”

“Idiot, what do you think it was for? You think anyone would willingly get their bathroom floor wet?”

“No…”

“Question me again like that and you’re sharing your fish’s bowl.”

You grab the towel from the bar, wrapping it around your body as you gets out of the tub. His eyes follow your form, his tongue darting out, licking his lips. Rafayel brings a hand up, wiping his brow as he lays back down in the tub, the water sloshing around him.

Damn.

[pomegranatepip]

11:12 an: I can't stand him.

"Fishie baby." Rafayel looked at you, a teasing grin playing on his lips. He had been insufferable lately—ever since he let it slip once—calling you baby and watching you get all stiff. He just couldn't let it go. He pointed his paintbrush at you, splattering some of the blue acrylic onto the floor in the quick motion. "You're my fishie baby, baby." "Can you just let it go already?" "I can't, actually. It brings me great joy." "You are so annoying!"

He makes a kissy face at you before putting his hands by his ears, sucking in his cheeks to mimic a fish face. "I actually can't stand you. No, like, for real." "You say that now, but when you're carrying my fishy babie-"

You launch the throw pillow beside you at his face, not letting him finish that thought, almost knocking him off his step ladder. You see his eyes widen- you know he panicked for a split second when the legs of the step ladder wobble a bit, off balance for just a moment. His cheeks are puffed out, tinged with pink. "Okay well now you are a baby- acting like one-"

You throw the other pillow at him.

[pomegranatepip]

please donate and reblog!

Please don’t skip 🍉🇵🇸

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #442 )✅️

"I am Khawla from Gaza, 34 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to support her family of 5: Me, my husband, and my three children: Muhammad, who is 5 years old; Sham, who is 3 years old; and Ghazal, who is nearly a year and a half old. In our terrible conditions, My son Muhammad contracted hepatitis from drinking contaminated water, and both he and Sham are deprived of their right to register in kindergarten, daycare, or other educational institutions. Additionally, due to the circumstances and lack of income, necessary benefits like milk are not provided to baby Ghazal.🫂💙🥺

With that, my husband's livelihood ha been completely destroyed since we are no longer entitled to work; and we expect to live under miserable conditions in tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in Gaza; with no food, no medicine, no clean drinking water; with oppression, helplessness, psychological pressures, doubts, and daily traumas caused by everything around us and inability to care for loved ones. the fear of danger, disease and death never leaves us🍉🫶

Now, I find myself in this difficult situation, and humbly ask for your help to save the lives of my family, especially my children, by getting us out of Gaza or helping us have money for medication or other necessities we may have access to. Asking for help is not easy, but we were left with no choice because we want to survive and we strive to rebuild our broken lives. We are very grateful for any help you can provide, no matter how small, as your help will contribute greatly to alleviating our suffering. I hope you will share my story with your family and friends."🍉🍉💙🇵🇸🇵🇸

Donation link⬇️⬇️

paypal.me/KhawlaFunds

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Hello lm hamdi ,I humbly ask for your support by reblogging this post on your account to help me and my family. As newcomers to Tumblr and GoFundMe, we are in desperate need of your kindness and support. 🙏🇵🇸🍉😔Please donate 🙏🏼Let's reach the goal as soon as possible .

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[pomegranatepip]

A Work of Art: With Rafayel

Plot: Rafayel wants to go swimming with you but your insecurities have other plans. Based on this request Pairing: Chubby! reader x Rafayel Note: Rafayel and reader are not in a relationship but there is an implied mutual attraction. Content warning: insecurities, self depriciation, body image issues, angst (hurt-comfort).

Sylus version: More to love |

It was another scorching day in Whitesand Bay, the heat wrapping itself around everything like a heavy blanket. Rafayel’s studio, though large and open, was still stifling, the heat seeping in through the windows, making it nearly unbearable. Yet, his energy remained constant, almost too infectious. He bounced around the space, flitting between his easel and a pile of freshly painted canvases, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” he teased, leaning against his easel with that insufferably cocky grin. “Thinking about me, aren’t you? Go on, admit it.”

You rolled your eyes, masking your discomfort with a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, moving closer until he was just a breath away. “Oh, but I don’t need to, cutie. You already do it for me.”

You watched him from your spot, marveling at his effortless grace. He was in his element, his dusky purple hair falling into his face as he dabbed at the canvas with a brush. Occasionally, he’d glance back at you, a sly smile curving his lips.

“You know,” he began, his tone teasing, “you’d make the perfect muse. Why don’t you let me paint you sometime?”

You laughed softly, a sound you hoped didn’t betray the nervous flutter in your chest. “I don’t think I’d sit still long enough for you to finish.”

Rafayel turned, raising a brow in mock disapproval. “Nonsense. You’re perfect just as you are. Besides, I think I’d enjoy the challenge of capturing your essence.”

It was always like this with him. Playful. Flirtatious. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, even though you’d seen firsthand how easily he dismissed others. People fawned over him—his talent, his charm, his looks—but Rafayel never seemed interested. Yet with you, he was different.

But you couldn’t help the doubt that lingered in the back of your mind. What if this was just his way? You wanted to believe he was just being playful, that he didn’t mean it the way your heart desperately wished he did. Because how could someone like him—a vision of elegance and charisma—see someone like you in any other way?

You crossed your arms, tugging the fabric of your shirt tighter around you, as if it could shield you from his gaze. Rafayel always had a way of looking at you like he was trying to peel back layers, like he saw something you couldn’t. And it terrified you.

And then there was your body. Stretch marks, rolls, flabs. All the things you tried so hard to hide. Around Rafayel, you were especially self-conscious, always careful to cover up, to deflect attention away from yourself. He was an artist, after all, a man who revered beauty in all its forms. Surely, someone like him couldn’t find someone like you truly beautiful.

“Earth to you,” Rafayel’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you blinked up at him to find him staring at you, his hands on his hips.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, offering a weak smile.

“Sooooo, are you ready?” Rafayel called out, glancing over his shoulder at you. He leaned against the doorframe with that devilish grin of his—flirtatious and yet utterly carefree. You glanced up from your position by the window, attempting to push the self-doubt creeping into your chest as he beckoned you over.

“Ready for what?” you muttered, not eager to engage. The last thing you wanted was to deal with another one of Rafayel’s whims.

“A swim, cutie.” he declared, his voice light and teasing. “The ocean's calling us, don’t you think?”

You stiffened, already feeling the weight of the impending conversation. Swimming. Bathing suits. He’d see more of you. That thought alone sent a wave of panic rushing through you. No, I can’t—

“I—uh, I don’t know…” You trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. "I’m just not feeling it today."

“Oh come on,” he pouted, pushing away from the doorframe with exaggerated dismay. “It’s way too hot, and we could both use a break. Besides, I promised we’d do something fun today.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, trying to avoid looking at him too long. What if he looks at me differently? Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. You’d been covering up around him for so long, hoping he’d never notice the things you tried so hard to hide.

“I don’t have my swimwear with me,” you quickly said, the excuse feeling weak as the words left your mouth.

Rafayel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean you don’t have it? I’ll buy you one at the boutique down the road. They’ve got everything.” His voice was laced with amusement, but you could feel a twinge of impatience creeping into his words.

Your heart skipped a beat. No, no, no. I can’t do that. Not with him seeing me like that…

“I’m just… not really in the mood, Rafayel,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze. “You go ahead, I’ll just...Keep you company on  the beach.” You swallowed, your palms growing clammy. “I… I don’t feel like it. Maybe another time.”

“Another time?” he echoed, his tone flat. Then his voice softened, laced with curiosity. “What’s going on with you, really?”

“I said I’m not in the mood—”

“Don’t lie to me.” he interrupted, his playful demeanor gone. His gaze was sharp, piercing, as though he could see every thought running through your mind. “What’s wrong?”

The dam broke before you could stop it.

“I just… I can’t, okay? I don’t want you to see me like that!” The words tumbled out, fast and frantic. Your breathing hitched as panic clawed at your chest. “I’m… I’m fat, Rafayel. I have stretch marks, rolls, flab—whatever you want to call it. And you… you’re you. You’re perfect. Handsome. And you flirt with me, but that’s just who you are, right? You wouldn’t actually—how could you? Look at me!”

Your voice cracked, tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t stop now, even if you wanted to. “People like you don’t see people like me. Not really. And I don’t blame you, because who would want to? I’m not beautiful. I’m not anything. I’m just…” You trailed off, choking on the lump in your throat. “I am a whale. A big whale. People would look at us and wonder what someone like you is doing with someone like me. And you’re an artist! You see beauty everywhere, but what happens if you look at me and realize I’m—”

“Stop.”

The single word cut through your spiraling thoughts like a blade, sharp and unyielding. You froze, choking back a sob as you dared to meet his eyes. When you finally dared to look at him, Rafayel’s expression startled you. His playful smirk was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. His jaw was tense, his hands clenched at his sides. He looked… offended. No, furious.

“Are you done?” he asked, his voice low, trembling with restrained emotion.

You nodded, your heart sinking. Of course, he was angry. Why wouldn’t he be? You’d made a fool of yourself, ruined whatever fragile dynamic you had with him.

“Come with me.” He stretched out his hand, his movements sharp, deliberate.

“What?”

“Come. With. Me.” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Hesitant, you placed your hand in his. His grip was firm, almost too tight, as he led you across the studio to a corner you’d never paid much attention to. A cluster of canvases sat there, each covered in white cloth.

Without a word, Rafayel grabbed the edge of one cloth and yanked it away.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was a painting. Of you.

Not an embellished version of you, not some idealized fantasy, but you as you were. Your stretch marks, your curves, every detail you hated about yourself—it was all there. But somehow, in his brushstrokes, it was beautiful. They weren’t altered. They were you. Raw, honest, and breathtakingly beautiful. You were beautiful. The woman in the painting looked almost like an ethereal goddess, with all the features you’d tried to hide—your soft curves, your round face, the way your body naturally flowed—on full display. You barely recognized the figure, as if it wasn’t you at all.

There you were, sitting by the window, the sunlight kissing your skin. There you were again, lost in thought, your features softened by a dreamy expression. In another, you were laughing, your smile radiant, your body draped in soft fabrics that celebrated every curve, every line, every part of you that you had always tried to hide.

“This,” Rafayel said, his voice breaking the silence, “is how I see you. Do you even hear yourself?” His voice was low, trembling with an intensity you hadn’t expected. “You think I’d look at you—you—and see anything less than perfection? You think I’d waste my time on someone who wasn’t worth every second of it?”

You turned to him, your lips trembling. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Every brushstroke, every color—I poured myself into these because I wanted to capture you. You. Not some distorted version of what the world says you should be. You, with your stretch marks, your rolls, your everything. Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” He uncovered another, and another. Each one a masterpiece, each one of you.

“This,” Rafayel said, his voice rough with emotion, “is how I see you. Not some distorted version of yourself you’ve convinced yourself I’d be ashamed of. This.”

Each one, a depiction of you—each angle, each pose, each moment captured with breathtaking beauty. You stared at the paintings in disbelief. He hadn’t changed anything about you. He hadn’t smoothed over the imperfections, hadn’t tried to make you look like someone else. He had captured you, exactly as you were, and in a way that made you look… beautiful. You were beautiful in every stroke, every shade of color he had used.

He stepped closer, his gaze softening as he looked at you, still reeling from the revelation.

“This is how I see you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. His fingers brushed against your cheek, almost reverently. “As for this… whale business? Humans like to forget that whales are majestic creatures. Powerful. Graceful. They’ve been admired for centuries, not ridiculed. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Fishes come in all shapes and forms, and yet are beautiful. As are you. Your shape, your insecurities do not blemish your beauty in my eyes, they enhance it.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “I… I didn’t know.”

He gave you a small smile, that same devilish grin now softened with something far deeper. “In Lemuria, you’d be worshipped. Not shamed. You are beautiful, just the way you are, and I’m not going to let you forget that. You deserve to be seen, really seen, for all the beauty you have to offer. Every inch of it.”

You turned to face him, your vision blurry with tears. “You really think...?”

“I don’t just think it,” he interrupted, cupping your face with both hands. “I know it. In Lemuria, you would be the most beautiful woman to exist. Sought after. The very definition of beauty. And even if the entire world disagrees, it doesn’t matter, because to me, you are a work of art. And no matter what or who I paint, nothing could ever compare to you.”

His thumb brushed away a tear that rolled down your cheek. “So don’t ever insult yourself like that again. And stop hiding from me. Stop hiding from the world. Because you’re perfect exactly as you are. Understand?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions you couldn’t even begin to name.

Rafayel smiled then, soft and genuine. “Good. Now, about that swim...”

You laughed through your tears, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a little lighter. A little more... beautiful.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

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realized what i could use the dance for

yes i edited this on instagram

[pomegranatepip]

fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence.

| masterlist | playlist | taglist |

Map of Chronosia

copyright © 2024 Hellinistical all rights reserved. no part of this story may be reposted, edited, or reproduced without the author’s permission.

[pomegranatepip]

popstar!reader x actor!sylus masterlist | lowkey based on this little drabble

a fan asks you a question during one of your surprise visits at the local theater of a small town as part of your movie's press tour.

"is sylus a good kisser?"

a grin makes its way to your lips, and you don't have to spare a glance to know that sylus is donning his signature smirk.

the squeals from the crowd grow louder.

he's great at more than just kissing is the thought that goes through your head, what would be your answer if you really wanted to respond in earnest. it'd be so funny, you think, so hilariously on brand with it's lewdness, something that will surely do numbers on social media.

but you remind yourself that you can't. not now. it isn't the time.

no one knows yet, and you've both done a damn good job at keeping your relationship a secret for the past three years to just have it all unravel under your need to crack a joke.

so you settle for the next best thing.

you lean back against your chair, allowing the fabric to support your entire weight as you cross one leg over the other. your movements are languid, lazy, elbow resting on the arm of the chair as you bring the microphone up to your lips.

"he's alright," you say with a hand casually carding through your hair. you want to come off as though you can't be bothered, entirely unmoved by the question. "could be better, though."

a lie.

sylus' lips have ruined you for anyone else.

his actions are always done with intention, and kissing you is no different. he takes his time with you, slow and deliberate movements that pour fuel down the flickering flame in the pits of your stomach. a palm flat against your lower back, traveling down the curve of your ass, the flesh of your thighs. little things done in the name of not just pulling whines and whimpers from your lips, but to remind you of his undying love and devotion.

he kisses you once he's satisfied with how the attention he's poured the rest of your body. and there's a way in which he captures your lips, heated and all-consuming, that makes you feel wanted.

desired.

not for the facade, the caricature you've made of yourself to entertain other people, but for you. the rawest, most true version of yourself that only a handful of people have access to.

sylus wants you. all of you, and he makes it clear with each slow drag of his lips against yours.

there's a slight tug on your lips that betrays your intentions as the fans go wild. they eagerly look to sylus for his response.

he turns in his seat. and this time, you take a second to meet his eyes. you find his pupils narrowed, covered in a layer of amusement that makes them shine under the dim lights of the movie theater.

"really, now? i seem to recall one of us refusing to break the kiss even after the director yelled cut," sylus leans far closer than what anyone would consider a professional distance. your breath catches, throat closing in as the tip of his nose nearly brushes against yours.

"and it certainly wasn't me."

you wonder, briefly, how the people in the crowd still had it in them to scream.

it's difficult to fight off the light shade of pink that tints your cheeks, but you manage, even gathering enough strength to shove him away with a hand on his chest.

"weren't you the one who had your hands practically glued to my face?" your scoff is accompanied by an eye roll.

sylus laughs, the sound low and deep. he decides to leave it at that. he gestures with a small wave of his hand for another question, and in an instant, arms shoot up from the crowd.

his hand falls to the chair's arm where it meets yours. you let a few seconds pass, allow yourself to relish in the contact of skin, part of his massive palm nearly covering the entirety of yours, before you pull back.

if anyone asks, it was just an accident.

a/n: so. im guessing i can speak for all of us when i say that absolutely no one expected me to pull this out of my ass.

[pomegranatepip]

Hello my friends🍉

I'm Manal from Gaza❤️

It's not easy to ask for help from others🇵🇸🍉❤️

I hope you can help me with a very small donation❤️

I'm asking you to donate a small amount of $50 to $100, please, it helps me a lot

I got married three months before the Gaza war. Now I'm pregnant and as you all know, polio is spreading everywhere, and I'm afraid of losing my child, and life conditions are getting worse day by day ❤️❤️ So any small donation makes a difference in my campaign to help me save my child.

So please help me provide all the winter clothes for my little one, and special milk, and expensive papers for my little one

I need your help if you can

Please donate to save my child and my little family

Every donation, even if it's small, will make a big difference in my life 😭❤️‍🩹

Help me and my child🫂🙏https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-manal-and-her-family-survive-the-gaza-crisis

!!!

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Hi dear donors ! ❤️

I would like to extend my thank and gratitude for the support you have been offering over the last eleven months. ❤️☺️

My family and I have been suffering and going through the hardest days we have ever experienced in our life . Things are very hard to get and and sometimes unattainable.😭😓

Our sufferings and hardship started on the first days of the war when all our possessions were completely destroyed and burned. We have become displaced and homeless , finding ourselves in a small tent in streets with no means of life. We lack every single necessary thing of life; food, water, hygiene essentials, and other necessities have become scarce and rare.

A photo taken to show how incredibly harsh our life has become after the war. We are struggling and facing lots of barriers to obtain the simplest necessities for living. Everything single thing is a complete story.

You can't imagine what difficulties we have been going through all these days of war. No cooking gas , nor cooking tools exist . We struggle to prepare a small meal of food.

No bakeries are available. Everything seems a miracle and unbelievable.😭 The war has stolen our joy and smile, leaving us busy thinking only of staying safe and alive. Our future has gone with the wind and our kids lost their dreams and ambitions.

This is a part of burying the dead. We also face some problems in the process of buying our dead people as no place is there for the family. Tombs aren't enough for the number of people living on a small spot of land.

A photo taken for the morning queue of filling our gallons with drink water. We wait hours to get some water for drink. Our life is full of tragedy and sadness.

All what we need is to survive the war and be safe. We are trying to secure the daily basic living necessities and this can come true with your contribution and support. Please don't spare this moment of supporting the people in need in Gaza in this tough and dire time. You can help us by either donating however small it is or sharing my posts. Your support makes a big difference for families in need

https://gofund.me/0dc0aa34

!!!

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zayne - illusio business trip

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I don't know why, but this greeting gives me such a homey and family feeling🥺♥️

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Ignore my bedsheets and look at the headless ballerina

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Hello, how are you, my friend? I am Khawla from scorched Gaza. I send you, merciful hearts, to help me in providing lactose-free milk for my little girl Ghazal, who is very allergic to lactose. This milk is very necessary for her health, which has been decayed after her injury and lack of necessities to feed her own food, and I do not have the financial means to provide it because of the difficult circumstances we live in.

The cost of milk is expensive for me, it is estimated at $70, and I hope from God and then from you help you to provide this necessary nutritional treatment for my child. Every donation, no matter how simple it is, means a lot to us and will contribute to improving her health, please, you are my last hope of not to make me deceive

!!!

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🚨 !!!!! URGENT !!!!! 🚨

Please offer your support to Sami @samy-family11 and his family in Gaza. They urgently need the funds to evacuate to Egypt. And to buy diapers, milk and blankets for their baby. They were retained by the IDF but they were subsequently released. They currently have no tent to live in and have to endure the cold harsh winter in Gaza. Imagine having to sleep in the streets during extremely cold weather, with no tent to live in, and you see your own baby numbingly cold with no winter clothes or milk to drink.

While you have the privilege of being warm and comfortable in your home, preparing for the holidays. These people have to go through some of the most inhumane, soul shattering and painful things that should not be allowed to even happen in the first place. But very thankfully, you can help them out.

Please, pitch in. I beg you to share, donate, reblog. Even if you donate just a small amount, it would help them out immensely. If you can’t aid financially please do whatever alternative you possibly can. Together, we can all help this amazing family achieve their goal at gaining the beautiful life that they wholeheartedly deserve.

As of Monday, Dec 23, $12,981 / $20K has been raised.

This campaign is vetted by association, and the organizer of this campaign is doing art requests for anybody who has proof of donation.

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>say i've lost interest in lads >jump out of bed with singular, myopic aim >draw sylus doing the boogie

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cw: codependency. mention of suicidal thoughts, self-harm scars, dysfunctional family. semi-canon compliant to main story — directly references 1-4. reader is gender-neutral. reader is not mc. depressed reader. reader cries a lot. caleb and reader are childhood friends / neighbors.

you’re six years old when the old woman across the street and the boy she was raising on her own give you a safe haven. you snuck out because your parents were arguing for the umpteenth time, and your naive, fearful mind had just wanted some kind of safety. the boy’s name is caleb, and the woman’s called the police because the escalation of your parents’ conflict arises to the point where neighbors can hear it. caleb hugs you for a long time as you cry, giving you an apple plush to cling to.

you’re thirteen when you confess to caleb you thought about dying. you think it’d be an easier way out. you promise you won’t do it—but it’s devastating to him. if caleb had it his way, he would do anything to take this pain away from you. he doesn’t like seeing the girl he loves in so much anguish. the dark cloud that only goes away when he’s around. he wishes you two could just stay together forever. he would keep you safe. he sees faint, blurred scars on your wrists beneath your sleeves, and his heart sinks. he just wants to see you smile.

you’re eighteen, and you’ve both graduated high school. caleb has his prospects, and he’s bound for skyhaven to pursue his future as a pilot. you, on the other hand—lose your friends, and your graduation dinner is ruined by a heated argument among relatives. when you two meet up later that night—caleb decides to take you to a drive-in movie. it’s an older film, with a cliche action plot and comedic gimmicks. but you don’t pay attention to it, for you had curled up into caleb’s side, clinging to him as your body trembled with shaky, quiet sobs. caleb never lets go, grateful that he’s gotten stronger, taller—so he can shield you with his body just like this. neither of you open the snacks or pay attention to the movie. caleb holds you close, kissing the top of your hair occasionally as he murmurs sweet nothings to ease you. he takes you to a diner open all night, treating you to a proper meal to celebrate—punctuating it with a kiss to your lips before he drives you both home.

you’re nineteen when you say goodbye. you’re going off to study at the association’s academy, finally having a reason to leave that godforsaken home. you wouldn’t come back, you tell caleb, and he understands. he’s proud of you.

(but god, he’ll miss you terribly. and you’ll miss him too.)

you’re twenty-three, he’s twenty-four—when you reunite. you didn’t think it was possible. you were a graduated combat medic, sent undercover to deal with a precarious incident similar to the explosion in bloomshore district. (the very same that was caleb’s home. he was there when you came back to visit. he was there—and you were thrown back with the debris. you grieved for days.)

“you passed,” caleb says, the interrogation room’s lights coming back on. you’re horrified, unable to speak. you don’t even struggle against the restraints. your eyes are wide in complete shock, a fear filling your body that you hadn’t felt since you were a child.

he switches his tone from it’s colder firmness, softened to a manner like he was always speaking this way, “did i scare you?”

you still don’t move when he undoes the restraints. you’ve completely tensed up, shivering as thick globs of tears spill from your eyes. you choke out a strained sob, cowering forward as you lowered your head. you wailed like you were going to vomit.

this… was still caleb, right?

the one who spoiled you. the one who cared for you. the one who was the only constant in your life, the one who was your light in a pitch black darkness.

the violet gaze no longer seems to burn as bright like it used to.

“hey, please look at me…” caleb calls to you, bending to one knee to be closer, cupping your wet cheek, “i’m sorry, but it was necessary. i didn’t think—no. i… should’ve known. you were always a crybaby when we were kids.”

he sighs, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you against him. it does little to ease your anguish. your grief. your anger.

but you still reciprocate the embrace, clinging to and tugging on his uniform. you’ve been through too much. you’ve been robbed of too many things you couldn’t get the chance to have.

caleb is all you had left, and you didn’t want to let go this time. even if it would hurt more to hang on.

“i’m never gonna leave your side,” caleb whispers into your ear. “stay with me. i can keep you safe, i’ll take care of you. forever.”

forever.

with caleb?

that sounds nice.