#heres the disclaimer! its not real
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mikomikomadness · 4 months ago
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I found this interesting channel, it documents wartime broadcasts from these radio stations called Arcade SuperCenters. I didn’t even know they made radio stations that talked about arcade games... It’s pretty neat, go check it out!
****disclaimers in tags!****
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autisticlee · 9 months ago
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"just be yourself" has always been one of my most hated things to hear from someone. it may sound simple and easy to you, but when you grew up never able formed a single solid personality (because you grew up autistic or for some other reason) and/or have always felt more like 20 different personalities in a trench coat who fight over who is supposed to be in charge, that "simple" advice is so much less simple.....it can even seem impossible.
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yudol-skorbi · 10 days ago
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It’s got something to do with the Caucus Mountains I thought. Is there a reason why that’s problematic?
Well yes, words have meanings and "caucasians" is not a general term for white people and never was! Caucasians are people who originate from Caucasus region. It includes more than 50 ethnic groups and their history goes back to late II — early I millennium BC. It is extremely old, diverse and rich culture! You can read a little bit more literally on wikipedia.
More so they are not even considered "white" in general.
Like imagine you see somone being called "typical mexican" in a negative context. First of all it is racist of course but upon further inspection the person in question is not even mexican and have zero connections to Mexico. Thats just some random white dude. And it's very confusing at first but than you see more and more people start using the word "mexican" as a general description of white person, often in a degrading context. And it does not stop at internet weirdos and racist scum, news outlets, celebrities, well meaning people who claim to support diversity and celebrate and respect different cultures do that too. Sounds extremely weird and out of pocket, right? Well this is how i feel when i see yet another random white person being called caucasian for some reason.
You cant just...i dont know...use a name for a very specific, very old and very existing ethnic group to refer to random white people who have no connection to this group. It even sounds like such a weird and confusing concept when i write this sentence, why would anyone ever come up with idea to do it????
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themyscirah · 8 months ago
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Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.
Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now
Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.
Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!
Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.
#its like youre unable to root for her in any form. which is annoying bc shes actually awesome actually#also having her say “actually im the good guy fuck you'' w/o any actual deep analysis of her psyche or whatever while doing these things#doesnt count as development or showing shes 3 dimensional. its just having 2 dimensional waller say shes right when everyone is obviously#supposed to believe shes wrong#anyways i want real waller back please i miss herrrrrrrr#anyways hope mr john ridley has read secret origins no 14. i know its from 1987 but please guys please. my only hope#also it was a few months ago but i think they tried to push certain elements of a diff backstory in dream team and sorry but fuck that. and#any mention of another waller background like my eyes are closed sry. im a preboot truther#actually im just ignorant of most squad comics outside the original series. im gonna do a readthrough and become knowledgeable on other#stuff i just need to find time. so if im wrong then sorry if its smth factual and if you disagree with my opinion then uh sorry for ur loss#anyways shoutout to the time i had a nerd night w my one friend and she was asking me abt dc and said my favorite villains and i said waller#and silver swan. and she had a “yuck WHY” to waller and a ???? to silver swan. love shouting out my faves and explaining them to the less#informed. didnt say a number 3 but would probably be parallax ig. idk hes kind of slay. or maybe someone else honestly i like hal but waller#and nessie are blorbo level for me i could think abt them for hours#or maybe it wouldnt be parallax actually idk who my 3 would be. hes definitely up there but way below the other 2. maybe the cheetah#interpretation that i personally have. v different from the popular cheetah interpretation esp rucka vers actually. much closer to the pérez#and esp develops some subtext there surrounding barbara and the exploitation and theft of sacred cultural artifacts and pieces but also#like british colonization a lil bit#but i actually despise the cheetah that lives in my head but think shed be interesting to use narratively and see diana fight#vs the other guys who i find interesting and sympathetic and like for themselves#whereas my fave interpretation of cheetah can rot in hell#i got off topic here#blah#swishy rant#also disclaimer that w the main character ik dreamer is the main character of dream team. im talking more in general and that amanda should#always have a huge role as shes the main character of the squad and yet is treated like its villain and not its protag#sui sq
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marimeeko · 2 months ago
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Yo why the fuck is Katsuki and his relationship with Izuku getting done so dirty in this epilogue? Like he led the super suit project. He likely started it bc he couldn't dream of doing herowork without Izuku. All Might credited him when giving the suit to Izuku. He held out his hand. Izuku, I'm guessing, took his hand. Fine, good, wonderful.
But suddenly, Katsuki fucking asks him to start an agency with him so they can work together, literally their fucking DREAM SINCE THEY WERE KIDS? AND IZUKU SAYS NO?? What was this entire exercise for? What was showing us how deeply they MEAN to each other, how dependent on each other they are, just for izuku to casually shoot katsuki down with a smile, even FOR?
Please what the fuck. What the fuck am I looking at.
As far as we know yet, we dont know if the two get a conversation specifically regarding katsukis devotion to the suit project, we don't get Izuku getting to realize and appreciate what Katsuki has been doing for the last 8 years, how devoted the man is?
And yeah I know katsuki ain't doing it for clout or recognition or a pat on the back, but that doesn't t mean he doesn't deserve some form of emotional payoff for the whole thing(as well as the audience who was rooting for him!)
Ooof I know I know, I'm angry over a manga(I wasn't mad before) but this part has driven me up a wall bc...
Idk, katsuki just deserves better. He feels like n afterthought in this epilogue.
I know I know, I need to wait out the full release and see everything for myself but DAMN
I feel like he's getting done a little dirty in this.
Technically no izuku doesn't owe him for the gift HOWEVER this is a story with thematic elements and THEMATICALLY, izuku and Katsuki have been so intertwined and woven together, and played as so desperate to keep each other in their lives, to compete, to fight alongside each other, and then the PAYOFF is a SHRUG and a rejection to just that?? Thematically, this is UNSATISFYING AS FUCK.
Like, what is their entire arc if it just ends in a casual rejection?? What the fuck were we building up to and getting so emotionally invested in for their relationship? Please it's so anticlimactic. This was a story about THEM. There was no Izuku without Kacchan, there was no Kacchan without Izuku.
Katsuki Bakugou deserves better.
And 0 percent of this is about the shipping. It's simply what Horikoshi wrote when he wrote them as a duo. When he framed their relationship as the CORE, the heart and SOUL of the story. When he made "win to save, save to win" a running theme, when he made Izuku someone who would kill for Katsuki, and Katsuki someone who would die(and live) for Izuku.
Maybe as more info drops and actual releases happen, this post will age badly. Part of me really hopes it does and there's some sort of misunderstanding or something, bc I did NOT want the thread of BKDK(be it platonic, romantic or other) to end this...unfortunately.
Again. I don't give a shit about the shipping in this moment, in this rant/vent. It's not about that rn. It's literally just the setup not matching the payoff.
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b4kuch1n · 2 years ago
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Hello! As you guys have seen, I’ve been figuring out the dip pens recently for a project, and I’d love to draw a guy of your choice as practice!
Head Over Here (Or Input The Link In The Picture Above) To Get A Slot
Three slots will be available every time I open for this! Please read and follow the instruction for sending references upon purchase; if references are not sent after 24 hours since the purchase is made, I’ll assume you’ve cancelled the commission and refund. If you need an extension on that, please leave me a word in Tumblr message or email!
UPDATE 20/06/2023: 3/3 slots filled. Thank you so much for your support, and please stay tuned for the next round!
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trekkele · 8 months ago
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listen the idea that any man could be blindsided by Taylor writing a song about him/their relationship at this point is objectively hilarious
you dated the face eating leopard my dude! of course she ate your face!
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qqweebird · 2 months ago
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ok fine i admit my bias against insects for mammals in the case that i see a cockroach in my room and feel violated and disgusted and fearful but i just fully saw a mouse in my room and despite the fact that they also carry disease and on top of that will shit everywhere and can start electrical fires and can bite i just think oh… baby mousie 🥺🥺
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chucklechampion · 3 months ago
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16, 24 & 30 :3
:3 hehe hi!! ive been Heavily Medicating on the pen so im very alsjdldlsjs and ready to be LEE
16. A tease that never fails to get to you?
oh lord okay, listen, i am gonna copy your answer but its the RIGHT ONE- lean into calling me a ticklish little puppy and i will get so lee and giggly so fast its so bad aldjslsjsks
calling my feet and hands paws (“paws up!” or “look at how ticklish puppy’s paws are”) or telling me to roll over so you can reposition me or tickle my back or belly rubs that turn tickly or AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
BONUS ROUND: if you fucking collaborate with my fiancee about tickling or teasing me or tell me that youre going to tell on me to them if im acting up i will EXPLODE YOU ONE MILLIONS TIMES AND THEN EXPLODE MYSELF i will go insane its always an instant kill because i am unabashedly wrapped around their finger <- obviously this applies to mutuals and friends but Assorted Others please do not harass them just to try to tease me or i will explode you for actual real
24. What would you describe the feeling of being tickled as?
god why is THIS more flustering than asking about the teases why am i BLUSHING
to me, it feels like a tingling that goes all the way into my bones and directly up the spine and to the brain. i also really notice the big dopamine dump that happens while im being tickled!! especially as someone with mental health issues its so nice to feel my brain get flooded with those happy chemicals that it has trouble making on its own 🥺
30. How easily do you get flustered?
WELL I WAS GONNA SAY IT DEPENDS ON A LOT BUT APPARENTLY THAT LAST QUESTION IS PROVING ME WRONG AKDHDKS
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cursezoroark · 8 months ago
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and i know i kissed you before, but, i didn't do it right.
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Mmm I definitely have Thoughts on site lore and Ancient lore. And I mean, for the most part I (as well as many people) use site lore more as Inspiration/Building Blocks for further lore building.
I've been meaning to get around to writing lore for my Clan and in general, so. I guess I'll just make some notes on the current Ancient Lore and what I think and where I'd go.
Deciding to put this under a read more since it's a lot more than I meant to write lmao
Gaolers - Part of this being because they were the first, and therefore had the most hype around their introduction, but so far lorewise Gaolers still have probably the most impactful story. Them being forgotten by modern society makes sense; withdrawn, a small population of creatures that never evolved into their softer modern counterparts. Which is another thing that makes Gaolers stand out; they're the only Ancient with an explicit connection as being ancestors of one of the Modern breeds. The whole This Thing Is You But Older, More Primal And Dangerous is just. Soooo good. Gaolers as a design have grown on me recently, so it definitely generates some ideas.
Banescales - BANESCALE LORE. BANESCALE LORE. My favorite of the bunch, but this is partially that I am someone who loooves music. The idea of Banescales having been a musical society, and now all that remains is the song that was left to their children as they protected their eggs... god it's just so beautiful to me. Plus the parallel to how Coatls ended up having a notably musical language... The idea of the Flamecaller mourning her first children and passing on their gift. The Coatls and Banes bonding over this similarity. I love them, I need more Banes.
Veilspuns - I'll be honest. I don't remember anything about the Veilspun lore. Legitimately. I love Veil's designs but their lore just Did Not Stick. I'll have to go reread it and probably rebuild it somehow lmaooo
Aberrations - Okay, I also kinda forgot this one, but they literally crawled out of the Wyrmwound, right?? Like, sort of had a "cast away by their god" type of thing? Failed experiment energy? Idk if that was actually what happened, but it's the take I'm going with.
Undertides - They felt betrayed by their god so turned their back on him, and then reintroduced themselves to modern society upon the Surge in the Elements. Cool! Interesting! I think this could be very cool to explore, especially with the modern members of Water Flight who have effectively been abandoned by Tidelord (as far as we know. Dad come back.) Also, strong ties with a specific sect of Maren! Neat! Not as potent of lore to me, maybe, but it's interesting and has potential. Execution was ehhg but I can work with the concepts.
Aethers - I love their lore yes its stupid yes its goofy and I adore them for it. If I go through with my lore crafting I'll keep all this because the other Ancients having cool and fucked up lore next to these dumbass sparkly floofs is hilarious to me.
Sandsurges - Okay I DID. Think the "pay" bit in the story was funny. But I do think a "cooler" take could have been done, with Sandsurges having a better reason to have been unknown to modern dragons aside from "They were underground all along" whsgsgs. I think you can combine the best of both world by saying they return upon seeing the exploitation of modern Lightning society, and the building of something Big and Dangerous, with allusions to this having been done in the past and having had consequences to Ancient Sandsurge society... AKA, they're here to teach the young'uns about unions.
Auraboas - Okay, so. The issues have been brought up several times, and most of us are aware at this point. I can see the angle they were going for, for a sci-fi-esque hivemind tyoe of situation. I also don't necessarily disagree with the decision to make it Nature. While Arcane might make more sense for sci-fi themeing, I think choosing a different Flight makes it a little less on the nose. In any case, I think the concepts are there, but were executed very poorly and with a decent dose of "ignorance and tone-deafness." I think the story specifically should have treated the elder Auraboas with more compassion for their fears for their children and difficulty in communicating with modern dragons. Way less infantilization, and more "person struggling with a language they barely know, reaching out to someone they never would have otherwise out of desperation." (By this I mean I think they could have written the difficulty in communicating far better than they did). The Loop is interesting as well, though very hard to grasp as a concept. This is partially on purpose, and partially because I kind if think staff purposefully left some things vague because they didn't actually want to try and figure out how the concept would work, lol (which I can't entirely blame them for, especially since with Site Lore sometimes less is more, allowing for multiple interpretations by users).
Another note: in both the recent Lightning and Nature ancient stories, they're both stated and/or heavily implied to have already been known about by certain dragons In The Know, so to speak. I have some mixed thoughts on either, and might incorporate them differently. Sandsurges as sort of secret workers was a little funny and backed up the Weird Shady Company Execs thing, but it could be interesting to make it a sort of, deliberately covered up because We Can't Have Them Teaching The New Hires How To Unionize!
As for Auraboas... Not really sure. I can see them being a culture that has been largely self-reliant for their existance, hence the lack of contact with modern dragons. But, given their connection to the Behemoth (and maybe a connection that could be elaborated on), maybe they've appeared or collaborated with moderns in the past over threats to the Behemoth. So, mutual knowledge, but no sustained contact since it was A) difficult and B) outside of curiosity, most on both sides saw little reason to establish further contact. A sort of living alongside one another but never really talking, like neighbors you see sometimes but don't talk to. It's only the disruption of the Loop in the younger generation that both kickstarts a greater Need to connect, but also a bridge for easier communication.
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quincywillows · 2 years ago
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i actually don’t think y’all understand how disillusioned i am with tv these days... the industry is dead to me. not for the reasons most fandom people say that like oh my fave died my fave couple broke up etc etc no. i think tv is dead because it literally is DEAD. its become so oversaturated that there is literally no way to rake through the muck to find the gems of good story. media has always been profit driven but the evolution to let’s create as much content as possible to beat out our competitors but only give them 1.5 seasons if that and make sure they have record-breaking streaming numbers -- a meaningless, MEANINGLESS metric when it comes to the quality of the storytelling -- within two days or they get the axe guaranteed and every single thing being a cheap and soulless IP adaptation that fans are happy to gobble down just to say they have it rather than actually see it as a faithful interpretation bc money money money and i swear if i see one more gd star marvel wars piece of property i will lose it. in this essay i will,
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wheelsupin-five · 1 year ago
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TELL ME ABOUT YOUR COD OC MERCY!!!!!!!
MERCY MY TRAGIC BELOBED BOY <33
Name: Emrys Leigh (meaning immortal meadow/clearing)
Call sign: Mercy (obtained through the fact he is RUTHLESS in the field and excelles in ✨information extraction✨)
Age: approx 28 but who's counting (not me)
Picrew by lunevani
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He normally wears a dark fabric face mask bc the scar pulls on his lips and exposes his teeth a little bit (I am normal I promise I am sooooo normal) and it drys out his mouth and also it makes him look more intimidating which he likes (it's also just one scar running from temple down through both his lips). He has THEE winter soldier stare of all time which terrifies new recruits but also anyone with a healthy sense of self preservation
He joined the British army at 19 (it was 100% an act of self destruction but now he cant leave bc it's all he knows) he specialized as a sniper and joined the SAS at 22, (was captured and tortured (but did not break) at 23 and took a year to rehabilitate before rejoining), and was hand picked by Price to join TF 141 at ~27 (again my math might be wrong but idc).
At some point during this he leveled up to a Sargent which is his current rank.
Looking at the scary brooding man who speaks very little who WILL snarl at you if you piss him off enough you would not guess it but he is a BIG card game fan HOWEVER do not play w him bc he will CHEAT bc hes also very good at slight of hand (and card tricks!!)
Hes literally just a silly little guy with a tragic background and enough trauma for a fucking large city but he tells silly jokes when he warms up to you (but takes a while) and once you have his trust you will have it for life !! You would kill for you without question !! Hes a coffee snob but in the way he'll turn his nose up at anything that isnt literally the shittiest instant coffee you've ever tasted !!
He also has an idle animation of systematically tensing + relaxing muscle groups which earns him some side eyes but no one has the balls to ask abt it <3
Anyways soap was the first person to gain his trust bc that man is relentless it's not his first rodeo (befriended ghost asap), then price (had worked w him prior a few times so he did have a head start), then gaz, then eventually ghost (if you put two private quiet people in a room together they WILL just sit in silence)
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itsalwaysdark · 1 month ago
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ome day i will be so normal
#thought abt my apartment again sigh. MY CURRENT SITUATION IS NOT BAD RHIS IS NOT THE SAME AS WHEN I WAS IN WA THINKING ABT MY APT#disclaiming bc i dont want 2 worry ppl. im quite happy here im just also excited for when im finally able 2 move out.... i like. truly truly#honest to god think id be able ro shower everyday Which is my goal#like. itll be easier once i live alone and Im the one buying all my shower products and everything#bc rn since i dont have money i have to ask my parents to buy me more shower stuff and i feel so jnsanely guilty. + the general depression#making it hard to shower and all that#but i thnnk once i have my Very own place where i live by myself itll be so much easier to like..do things. bc ill be able tk move abt the#house freely Not that i cant here like im fully allowed i just. Get weird abt everything and ive been doing that even before wa i like#hardly left my room... yk. wa i think actually made it a bit better bc i realized how much i was missing out on LOL. but its still a bit bad#i only leave if i Have a thing to do i never like. Just go sit in the living room or whatever... bc i dont like to intrude#Which is so stupid but whatever. at my apartment i want to try not to lay in bed all day#and my bed will just be for sleeping and ill hang out in my livinf room and itll be all decorated and nice and ill shower EVERY SINGLE DAY !#bc i wont be scared of anything happening (not that anything would here but yk .)#and i might even have a window in my bedroom i used to hateee bedroom windows my family has always been very Blackout curtains#but in wa b4 i was in the garage there was a big bedroom window and it was kinda nice to wake up to sunlight and stuff...#but i also have trouble sleeping if not in complete darkness. so you know..... we will see#also i only want that if im like . Not on the ground floor and its not like a um. If anybody can peek in my windows im getting blackout#curtains im Terrified of being watched through my windows i have nightmares abt ir all the time. Which is funny bc there r no windows in the#garage LOL#i just hate 2 be seen its true. bud all of that will be fixed when i have my apartmenttt :] and in my apartment ill be buying the groceries#so i wont have to feel guilty abt trying new recipes and stuff (not that i have to now bc my family likes trying new recipes and if im being#real i WILL still feel guilty spending money bc i have a complex. but im fantasizing rn so we dont have to worry abt that)#AUGHHH im just excited ik its a ways away but i rly am so excited like :] i would even be able to take baths sometimes i feel rly guilty#taking baths bc i dont like to hog the bathroom but if i lived alone then i wouldnt have to worry abt it#and i could do the fancy baths like with candles and stuff. i used to do that when we lived in my hometown.... and when i have my own place#i could do that whenever i wanted i could even gt one of those fancy bath trays even though they scare me rly rly rly bad bc i get paranoid#avr them falling in . ive never used one injust imagine them falling in andget scared#i also dont fully know how they work if your bathtubs like a built in one yk. bc sometimes theres no rim to rest it on? but whatever. ill#figure it out. hopefully i di have a bathtub And in unit laundry i rly want those but yk i may have 2 settle. but those 2 things would make#my life so good .... and a kitchennn my own kitchen even if its small
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perilegs · 4 months ago
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if someone has a crush on you how would you react? just as a hypothetical situation ha ha
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#as for a real answer: if you mean it in like a someone confesses to me then depends on who it is#regardless of who it is i will b flattered and it will leave a positive mark in my self esteem#same with people anonymously confessing that#i have done some rejecting in my lifetime and it's never nice for either party. especially the one being rejected.#but personally if someone cofesses to me and i dont feel the same - the way i feel about that person doesnt change#as in. i would be ready to hop back to being friends normal style but with that information changing nothing between us#idk how to word it but it's like. i dont mind it. wow no shit ofc someone like me wouldnt mind ppl having crushes on them but like#to me it's a very. uuhh. in a certain way neutral feeling? you cant really help having a crush and im not here to make fun of you or stop#being friends or whatever the relationship might be#same thing with like. ok im terrible with people crying bc i just tend to ignore it if its a case where theyre talking but also crying#bc personally i hate it when im trying to talk but keep crying and cant get the words out bc in those cases in the past i have been wishing#the crying part would have been ignored and i would have just been listened to#but kina like that? but not at all god i dont know words are hard#im acknowledging u have big feelings and i try my best to be compassionate and take you into consideration#but i wont see it as a bad thing#is any of what im saying making sense#idk understand it or dont#if someone i have a crush on confesses to having a crush on me? mfbgmdnekfbwk 👍👍👍💝💗👍💕💞💗💖#though at that point i usually already know it and then on purpose direct the convo to that#DISCLAIMER: i do not manipulate conversations like that on the regular only when it comes to matters of the heart#that sounded worse#but like. i have never told anyone i have a crush on them unless they said it first and i give my omg i have a crush on u too#and that happens when theres a conversation that could potentially go to that and it feels like both parties feel like thatd b a good moment#anyways. hehe anon you have a crush on meee :3ccc#this will fuel me for the week#ask#anonymous
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mephisto-reporting · 2 months ago
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Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus
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Plot: Reader becomes jealous of Sylus and MC's closeness, distancing herself and seeking comfort in another LI. Sylus notices her growing distance and takes action. Based on this request. Pairing: Sylus x Non MC reader Content Warning: Insecurities, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort Note: Reader is not the MC of the game. I think I got quite carried away writing this because I am a sucker for angst. [ A disclaimer note - Please be respectful of the request ]
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The faint hum of the air condition echoed through the Onychinus base, its opulent, luxurious atmosphere doing little to distract from the knot twisting in your stomach. You stood across from Luke and Kieran, their crow masks tilted slightly as if to gauge your reaction.
"Boss isn't here today," Luke said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "He’s in Linkon, Boss man’s got other things to handle."
Kieran, his mask tilted slightly to the side, gave a confused grunt. "But I thought he was meeting with her...?"
Luke raised a brow, correcting him. "No, no, he was meeting with Miss Hunter."
Miss Hunter.
The words hit you like a sledgehammer, even though they shouldn’t have. You were a hunter too, an informant who had been feeding Sylus critical intel on the association’s movements for two years now. But she was different. Special.
Captain Jenna’s star pupil, with her rare Anhaunsen-class Resonance Evol, was someone Sylus had spent weeks trying to connect with, both literally and emotionally. You weren’t blind to the necessity of it; resonating with her was crucial for his goals, ones he hadn’t entirely shared with you but that you trusted him to pursue.
Trusted him. Loved him.
You forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the update. I'll let you two get back to it."
Luke and Kieran exchanged a glance, but you were already walking away, the echo of your boots swallowed by the hum of the base.
The ride back to Linkon was supposed to clear your mind. It didn’t.
The cool wind whipped against your face, but all it did was sting the tears pooling in your eyes. The road stretched endlessly ahead, yet the pressure in your chest only grew. Sylus hadn’t seen you in two months. Two months of unanswered calls and messages reduced to half-hearted responses when they came at all.
You understood why he was focused on her. She was crucial to his plans. She was everything you weren’t: poised, pretty, powerful, and, most importantly, someone he needed.
But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.
The world blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled. You had always known your place in Sylus’ life. You were the informant, the quiet insider who helped him stay two steps ahead of the hunters. Somewhere along the way, though, you had fallen for him. For the man who wasn’t as cold and calculated as others believed. It had been two long years since you started working with Sylus. Two years filled with secrecy, lies, and hidden truths. But over those years, you'd found yourself tangled in emotions for him that you couldn’t shake. Sylus, with his cold authority, his dangerous smile, his complex nature… He was all you could think about. He wasn’t as dismissive as people thought. He had a way of looking at you when no one was watching—a fleeting softness that you cherished, even if you couldn’t be certain if it was real.
And now, it felt like you were losing him.
Your bike screeched to a halt near Meow’s Café. You hadn’t planned to stop, but the sight of the familiar storefront tugged at you. Perhaps a coffee and a moment to breathe would help.
The glass windows glinted under the midday sun, and your breath hitched as you looked inside.
Sylus was there. With her.
They sat at a small table, a deck of Kitty cards spread between them. He was leaning back, his smirk in full display as she laughed at something he said. It was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes, the kind of moment you had only ever dreamed of sharing with him.
You froze, your hands tightening on your helmet.
For a fleeting second, you wanted to march inside and demand answers. To ask him why he had time to play cards but couldn’t return your calls. To tell him how his absence had hollowed you out.
But you didn’t.
He looks so happy... you thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.
The truth gnawed at you. Every interaction, every ignored message, every unread notification on your phone—it was because of her. Because Sylus had more important things to do. She was the one who mattered now. She was the one who he had to resonate with, had to bond with, had to make fall for him.
And you? You were just a pawn, a tool—forgotten. And there you were. Alone. Watching through a window, the warmth of the cafe contrasting the cold, empty feeling in your stomach. He hadn’t even bothered to let you know he was back. He was with her. You couldn’t bear to watch any longer, but you couldn’t look away either. It felt like the world was spinning faster than you could catch up, and you were left stranded, dizzy, and abandoned.
Instead, you turned away, your chest tight and vision blurred. The world felt suffocating, the weight of your unspoken feelings dragging you down as you climbed back onto your bike.
It was for the best, right?
You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep waiting for him, couldn’t keep fooling yourself that there was something real between you two. He was busy. He had her. And you.. well, you didn’t even know why you bothered anymore.
The ride back to your apartment was a blur of taillights and muffled engine noise. The city’s glow that usually brought you some sense of comfort felt glaring and alien tonight. By the time you made it inside, the suffocating silence of your small space was overwhelming.
For someone who prided herself on being strong and independent, you barely made it to your couch before the sobs overtook you. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you clutched a pillow to your chest, trying in vain to keep your cries muffled. It felt as though something within you had been ripped apart, leaving an aching, hollow void that throbbed with every thought of him.
You replayed the image of him at the café in your mind, over and over, as if some part of you wanted to punish yourself further. His smirk. Her laughter. The ease of their interaction. It contrasted so sharply with the heaviness that now weighed on your heart.
Every chime of your phone made you flinch, hope briefly sparking to life, only to be cruelly snuffed out when the screen lit up with messages from others—work updates, pointless notifications, or friends checking in. Nothing from him. Of course, there wouldn’t be.
You wiped at your face, your chest tightening as you scrolled through the last few conversations you’d had with Sylus. They were short, clipped responses. A "thanks" here, an "I’m busy" there. You’d convinced yourself for weeks that he wasn’t brushing you off, that his focus was just elsewhere. But deep down, you knew. You’d always known.
You weren’t as important to him as he was to you.
That realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and final. And yet, you tried to convince yourself it was okay. He doesn’t owe me anything, you told yourself, though the thought only twisted the knife deeper. He’s free to choose who he spends his time with.
But it didn’t stop the tears.
The days that followed were a haze of exhaustion and numbness. You threw yourself into your work, spending long hours tracking and confronting wanderers. The physical exhaustion helped, even if just a little. At least when you were in the middle of a fight, the pain in your chest was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
Still, the nights were the worst. Alone in your apartment, the quiet crept in like a suffocating fog. You tried to distract yourself—reading, cleaning, even organizing old mission reports. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But it was impossible.
Each time you saw his name in your contacts, you hesitated. Your thumb hovered over the call button more times than you cared to admit, but the fear of hearing his indifferent voice stopped you every time. What would you even say? That you missed him? That you wanted to see him? That you’d fallen for him, even though you knew it would never be mutual?
No. You couldn’t do that to yourself.
You worked harder, pushed yourself further. Every wanderer you fought became a stand-in for your frustrations, your insecurities. You told yourself that if you could just stay busy enough, the ache would go away. But no matter how many missions you completed or how many late nights you spent staring at your phone, the weight in your chest never fully lifted.
By the end of the week, you were exhausted—physically and emotionally. But you were surviving. Barely. The bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed into the chocolatier’s shop, the rich scent of cocoa and vanilla wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The day had been grueling—hours of chasing leads, a narrow escape from a particularly aggressive wanderer, and not a single bite of food since morning. Your stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder that you’d been running on fumes for too long.
Rows of meticulously crafted chocolates gleamed beneath the glass counter, their perfect swirls and shimmering finishes almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. You leaned forward slightly, scanning the display, your reflection ghosting over the pristine surface.
Dark chocolate truffles. Raspberry ganache. Caramel hazelnut clusters. The options were overwhelming, and your indecision felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest still ached from the lingering emotions you’d been suppressing all week. The quiet joy of the shop felt alien, like stepping into a world you no longer belonged to.
Just pick something and go, you thought, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. But the choices seemed endless, each one whispering promises of sweetness you weren’t sure you deserved.
"If you’re struggling," a soft, measured voice spoke behind you, "the pistachio crème chocolate is an excellent choice."
Startled, you turned, your gaze falling on a man standing a few steps away. Tall and lean, he exuded an understated confidence that was both intimidating and captivating. Dark hair fell in against his forehead, and sharp hazel-green eyes, softened by gold flecks peered at you from behind thin-framed glasses. His white doctor’s coat was open, revealing a simple black shirt beneath, and he held a small paper bag in one hand.
You blinked, caught off guard by both his suggestion and his presence. "Oh, uh… thank you," you stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "I’ll… I’ll try that."
The shopkeeper nodded and carefully packed your selection as you stole another glance at the stranger. There was an air of calm authority about him, a quiet assurance that made you feel oddly exposed, like he could see straight through you.
He waited patiently as the shopkeeper handed you your bag, but just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the quiet again—this time, more direct. "Chocolates shouldn’t be your first meal of the day."
The statement was delivered without malice, his tone stoic and matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a stone to the chest. Your lips parted in shock, the question forming before you could stop it: How does he know? But before you could say anything, he was already moving toward the door. The bells jingled softly as it closed behind him, leaving you standing frozen in place. The stranger’s words lingered, intertwining with the rest of your messy emotions. Your fingers clenched the small bag of chocolates as you tried to process the brief encounter.
A soft gleam on the floor caught your attention, breaking your spiraling thoughts. A wallet, its sleek leather worn but well-kept, lay just inches from where the man had stood. You knelt and picked it up, your heart thudding as you opened it to check for identification.
The name embossed on his hospital ID was like a jolt: Dr. Zayne. Your eyes widened. Doctor Zayne? The name was familiar—a renowned surgeon whose skills and precision were legendary, often described as a miracle worker. You’d imagined someone older, more weathered, not… this.
For a moment, you stared at the ID, piecing together the puzzle of the composed, enigmatic man who had called you out so effortlessly. You tried the number listed on a card tucked into his wallet, but it rang unanswered, the sterile monotone only adding to your frustration.
"Of course, he wouldn’t answer," you muttered under your breath, chewing your lip as you debated your next move. The idea of keeping his wallet overnight felt wrong, and leaving it here in the shop seemed equally careless.
That left one option.
The hospital loomed ahead as you approached, its towering structure illuminated against the evening sky. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, twisting with every step you took through the sterile white halls. You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge—maybe it was the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had been haunting you lately, or maybe it was the lingering impression of Zayne’s knowing gaze.
At the reception desk, you hesitated, gripping the wallet tightly as you cleared your throat. "Hi, um, I’m here to return something for Dr. Zayne. He… accidentally dropped this."
The receptionist barely looked up, taking the wallet with a polite but indifferent smile. "Dr. Zayne isn’t in right now. I’ll make sure he gets this when he’s back."
"Oh," You nodded, murmuring a quick thanks before retreating back toward the exit. You thought nothing of this interaction as you left. You did what you thought was right and left the hospital back towards your apartment.
The days blurred together in a haze of work and routine. You buried yourself in assignments from the Hunter’s Association, throwing yourself into dangerous missions with a single-minded intensity. Anything to keep your mind occupied.
Sylus messaged you once during that time, his tone professional as he asked for updates regarding a lead he was tracking. You’d responded quickly, sticking strictly to business. No pleasantries, no banter—just the information he needed. He didn’t press, didn’t call you out for your uncharacteristic coldness. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to say anything.
That night, you jogged through the dimly lit streets, your breath fogging in the cool air as you tried to exorcise the restless energy gnawing at you. The rhythmic slap of your sneakers against the pavement was grounding, steady. Jogging had always been your go-to, a way to clear your head and silence the endless stream of "what-ifs" and "if-onlys" that plagued your mind.
But no amount of movement could completely shake Sylus from your thoughts.
His voice, his presence—it clung to you, even now.
Why didn’t he ask how I’ve been? Why didn’t I?
You shook your head, annoyed at yourself. There was no point in dwelling. Sylus wasn’t the kind of person to give you what you wanted, and even if he did, could you trust it? Could you trust him?
The sound of skidding tires yanked you out of your spiraling thoughts.
“Look out!”
Before you could process the warning, a cyclist veered wildly toward you, their momentum too strong to stop. There wasn’t even time to brace yourself. The impact hit like a freight train, and suddenly, you were on the ground, tangled with the bike and its rider. Pain blossomed sharp and hot in your knees as the asphalt scraped them raw.
For a moment, you just lay there, stunned. The world tilted unsteadily, the city lights smearing together like a watercolor painting.
“Hey, you okay?” The cyclist’s voice snapped you back. They were scrambling off you, helmet slightly askew but otherwise unscathed. You shook your head to clear it, wincing as you sat up. You pushed yourself up, shaking the dizziness from your head, and checked on the cyclist who had crashed into you. They were already scrambling to their feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed, their helmet and guards having done their job.
“I’m fine,” you managed, even as your knees throbbed in protest. “Are you?”
“Yeah, thanks to the gear,” they said, pulling off their helmet to inspect a small crack along its surface. “Guess it did its job.”
Relief washed over you. “Good. Let me just—”
“Wait.” A different voice cut in, firm but calm. You stood there, still trying to regain your bearings when a figure appeared beside you, moving with a grace that immediately caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Dr. Zayne. The same man who had crossed your path in the chocolatier's shop just days ago. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to vanish. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something more concerned as he took in your state.
Without saying a word, he immediately began assessing you, his gaze narrowing at the blood now staining your knees. You winced, feeling the sting of the cuts that had begun to bloom with a fiery intensity, but you were determined not to show it. You were used to pain—used to the sharp discomfort that came with being a hunter. You didn’t need help. You could handle this on your own. You’d always been able to.
But Dr. Zayne wasn’t having any of it.
His voice, low and steady, broke through the haze of your thoughts. "You’re bleeding. Those need first aid," he said firmly, his frown deepening as he glanced at your scraped knees. "Sit. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute."
You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine, but the words caught in your throat. He wasn’t asking. His tone, though gentle, was authoritative��demanding in its own quiet way. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm, unflinching presence, that made it impossible to argue.
"I’m fine, I am a hunter." you managed to say, your voice rougher than you intended. "I can handle it at home. Really." You tried to force a reassuring smile
“Is this a hunter thing?” he interrupted, one brow arching skeptically. “Are all of you this stubborn about basic care, or is it just you?”
The words should have been biting, but his tone was almost... patient. Like he was accustomed to dealing with difficult people.
You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sting in your knees and the heat of his gaze. “I’m not being stubborn,” you muttered. “I just don’t want to bother anyone over something so small.”
“Small injuries have a way of turning into bigger problems,” he said, folding his arms. “And I’m not bothered. As a doctor, I’m asking you to wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Without waiting for your protest, he turned and strode off, leaving you no room to argue.
You sat stiffly on the bench, gripping the edge as the minutes dragged on. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the gnawing discomfort blooming in your chest. Anxiety clawed at you, whispering insidious doubts.
He’s wasting his time on you.He probably thinks you’re pathetic and weak.Why couldn’t you have just gotten up and left?
Your fingers curled into fists, the tension radiating through your body.
The sound of footsteps interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and Dr. Zayne was back, carrying a small first aid kit. He knelt in front of you without a word, his hands steady as he cleaned the cuts on your knees. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he worked felt almost surreal. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just… calm. You found yourself drawn to it, to the quiet that seemed to settle around him.
"You’re lucky," he said, glancing up at you as he bandaged your knees. "That could’ve been a lot worse."
You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know where to start. So you remained silent, watching as he finished his work, his hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many injuries to count.
When he was done, he straightened up and met your gaze. "You should be more careful," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before, though there was still a note of concern underlying his words. "Next time, don’t run so late at night. You never know what could happen."
You forced a tight smile, the words feeling like they were coming from someone else. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, your voice quieter now.
Dr. Zayne took a step back after finishing the bandages, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as he packed the first aid kit. You glanced at him, your mouth opening to thank him, but before you could get the words out, he said, almost in unison, “Thank you.”
Both of you froze, the simultaneous expressions of gratitude hanging awkwardly in the air. A surprised laugh slipped out of you, breaking the tension.
“You first,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just going to say thank you for… you know, helping with this.” You gestured vaguely toward your knees, the bandages clinging to your skin. “You didn’t have to.”
The moment stretched between you, awkward yet somehow comforting. Zayne gave a small, almost amused smile at the simultaneous gratitude, but his gaze softened when it landed on you, his concern still present.
"Thank you for returning my wallet," he said, his tone steady but with a hint of appreciation.
His words caught you off guard. “Oh, right! That. It wasn’t a big deal, really.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze. “I found it at the chocolatier shop. I figured it was better to bring it to the hospital than leave it lying around.”
He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I appreciate it. Not many people would go out of their way like that.”
You tried not to let his kindness throw you off, but it wasn’t easy. There was something about Zayne that made you feel... small in a way you didn’t like to feel. He was kind, yes, but that kindness made you wonder if you were deserving of it. Why should you be the one he cared about?
But before you could dwell on that any further, his voice cut through your swirling thoughts.
"Have you eaten today?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath it, one that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. It reminded you of that conversation in the shop, of how he had so effortlessly read through your tiredness.
The sheepish look that crossed your face must’ve been obvious, because Zayne sighed, the sound so deep that it almost felt like a reprimand. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was both familiar and surprisingly endearing.
“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” he said, his voice almost too gentle for the weight of his words. “It’s not healthy to go without food, especially if you’re going to keep running around like you hunters do.”
You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasn’t a big deal, but Zayne didn’t give you the chance.
"There’s a diner close by. It’s the least I can do to thank you for returning my wallet."
You shook your head instinctively, trying to backpedal. "It’s really not necessary," you said, but Zayne wasn’t having any of it. His eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable warmth behind them that almost made you feel guilty for refusing.
"Yes, it is," he replied, his tone steady but with a hint of finality. "Now, come on.”
You hesitated for a moment, the unease building in your chest like a brick wall, but the thought of Zayne’s calm, commanding presence made it impossible to say no. So, with a quiet sigh, you relented.
"I’ll pay," you muttered as he led the way, the words almost reflexive. You always felt like you had to pay your way—like it was your responsibility to do so, especially with someone who had helped you, even in the smallest of ways. You were used to standing on your own two feet.
Zayne only gave you a side glance, his lips quirking up in the barest of smiles. "No, you won’t. It’s my thank you, remember?"
The diner wasn’t far from where you had been, a cozy, low-lit place with a soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of silverware against plates. The familiar scent of warm food—steak, mashed potatoes, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread—immediately filled the air as you stepped inside. You followed Zayne to a small booth in the back, the vinyl seats creaking under your weight as you slid in.
You wanted to say something—thank you, maybe—but the words felt stuck, trapped somewhere in the pit of your stomach, along with everything else that had been piling up for weeks. Zayne didn’t seem to notice, his focus already turning to the menu as he gestured for you to pick something.
You wanted to ask him more, to understand him in the same way you understood the empty streets you ran through, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just end up looking foolish. So, instead, you stared at the menu in front of you, unable to focus on the choices, as your mind churned with questions that had no answers.
Zayne ordered for both of you, his voice low as he made his choices, and when he looked at you, you caught a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, or was it concern? It was hard to tell.
"You should eat more regularly," he said again, as though the words were a reminder he had to repeat for his own peace of mind. You nodded, letting the silence fill the space between you for a moment.
The food arrived, warm and satisfying, and you took a bite, surprised at how hungry you were despite the earlier denials. Zayne watched you for a moment, his gaze softening as you ate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. His concern, his care—it felt too much. You weren’t used to people worrying about you.
But as the meal went on, you found yourself starting to relax, the initial tension loosening from your shoulders. Zayne was easy to talk to, his calm, steady presence settling you in a way you hadn’t expected. By the end of the meal, you felt... lighter.
"Call me Zayne," he said when the check came, his voice quiet but sincere.
You blinked, a little caught off guard by the request. "Zayne?" you echoed, testing the name on your tongue.
"Yes," he replied with a small, patient smile. "It’s easier than 'Dr. Zayne,' don’t you think?"
You blinked, taken aback. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve earned the title—”
“And I’ll still have it in the hospital,” he interrupted, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But here, it’s just Zayne.”
You nodded slowly, testing the name in your mind. It felt strange, almost too personal. But there was something grounding about it, too.
By the time dessert arrived, the knot of anxiety in your chest had loosened considerably. The warmth of the diner, the steady cadence of his voice, and the shared laughter over a poorly made joke had a way of pulling you out of your own head. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you weren’t obsessing over your failures or doubts.
As you finished your meal, Zayne pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. “Here,” he said simply. “Add your number. In case you ever need anything.”
You hesitated, the gesture feeling far more intimate than it probably was. But his expression was patient, expectant, and you found yourself entering your contact information before you could overthink it. When you handed the phone back, his lips twitched into a faint smile.
“Thanks again for returning my wallet,” he said, his tone lighter now. “And for the company.”
You felt your cheeks flush, but this time, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It’s not a problem,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.
As you stepped out of the diner and into the cool night air, a strange sense of calm settled over you. Zayne walked you to the corner where your paths would diverge, his presence steady and reassuring.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.
“You too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
The diner’s warmth lingered even as you stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in what felt like weeks, your chest didn’t feel as tight, the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on you now lifting slightly. You still felt the ache of Sylus’ absence—a hollow, gnawing sensation that seemed to creep in whenever you let your guard down, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been. Instead, a new sensation fluttered in its place, tentative and fragile: excitement. It was strange to feel this way, to look forward to the possibility of a friendship formed under such unlikely circumstances. Zayne’s calm demeanor, his steady presence, had surprised you.
As you walked, the sound of fluttering wings caught your attention. Instinctively, your heart skipped, your mind jumping to Mephisto. You tilted your head to the dark sky, half-expecting to see the telltale silhouette of his familiar. But it was just a cluster of pigeons, their wings catching the faint glow of the streetlights as they soared away.
Right. Of course. It was unlikely that Sylus was watching you tonight.
You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and forced your thoughts away from him. Zayne had offered you a rare moment of normalcy, and you weren’t about to let your memories of Sylus overshadow that.
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The following weeks were a blur of activity, and before long, you found yourself stationed at an outpost on the outskirts of Linkon. A metaflux surge had disrupted the area, and the temporary makeshift hospital was bustling with injured workers, hunters, and even a few civilians caught in the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the metallic tang of metaflux faint but persistent, a reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of the encampment.
Zayne was assigned as the doctor for the outpost, and you often found yourself crossing paths with him. At first, your interactions were brief—a nod here, a shared glance there—but over time, you began to talk. It started with simple pleasantries, discussions about the metaflux readings or the influx of patients, but it wasn’t long before the conversations deepened.
You learned that Zayne had a dry sense of humor, his sharp wit often catching you off guard. He’d tease you about your stubbornness, and you’d retort with a quip about his overly serious nature. Despite his professionalism, there was a warmth to him, a quiet compassion that made him easy to trust. And though you’d never admit it, you found yourself looking forward to those moments of shared laughter, those fleeting glimpses of something lighter amidst the chaos.
But even as your friendship with Zayne grew, Sylus lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. The conversations you had with him were sparse and strictly work-related—updates from the Association, bits of intel you passed along to him. It felt transactional, a far cry from the intimacy you once shared. Yet, every time his name appeared on your screen, your heart still raced, betraying the fragile boundaries you’d tried to set.
One evening, a message from Sylus broke the monotony of your routine.
‘Come over tomorrow night, Darling. I have an exquisite wine I’d like you to try—procured it during a recent deal.’
The invitation was simple, almost casual. For a moment, you imagined it—the rich scent of wine filling the air, his sharp yet alluring gaze fixed on you as he poured you a glass. But reality quickly crept in, dragging you back to the present. You couldn’t go. You couldn’t risk it. Not when your heart was still so fragile, still aching in ways you didn’t want to admit.
You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your mind raced. The truth was, you wanted to see him. But you knew better. You had to keep your distance—for your own sake, if nothing else.
‘I’m tired..'
You typed, the words feeling hollow as they formed.
'Busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time.’
You hesitated before hitting send, the weight of the message pressing down on you. When his reply came, it was as simple as his invitation.
‘Okay.’
The finality of it hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you felt like your breath had been stolen away. He didn’t push. He didn’t argue. That empty “okay” hung in the air, leaving you with the quiet realization that, once again, you had lost yourself in the haze of someone else’s world.
You tried not to read too much into it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already moved on. That he didn’t care enough to fight for your attention. Instead, it felt like you were just a passing thought, like an aftertaste that wasn’t worth savoring.
Miss Hunter. The words echoed in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind your eyelids, but they pressed hard, a sting that never seemed to fully fade. You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the thoughts. But even as you did, you couldn’t escape the suffocating feeling in your chest—the one that always came when you were reminded of how little you meant to him. You felt foolish, but you couldn’t help it. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come back, to pull you back into his orbit with that practiced charm, that voice that made you feel wanted, if only for a little while.
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The dinner with Zayne had been a welcome reprieve. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, the demands of work pulling both of you in different directions. But tonight, seated across from him in a small, cozy bistro, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of your conversations. The mellow lights softened the sharp angles of his face as he recounted a mishap earlier in the week involving a particularly irritable patient.
His dry humor, paired with the subtle lift of his brow, drew a laugh from you—a genuine, light sound that felt foreign after the weight of recent days. For a while, the world outside blurred away. You weren’t Miss Hunter; you weren’t anything other than a person sharing a meal with a friend.
As the meal wound down, Zayne looked at you over the rim of his glass, his expression calm. “You’re doing better than when we first met.” he remarked softly.
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Am I?”
He nodded. His calm demeanor always had a way of grounding you, and tonight was no exception.
The meal wrapped up with the two of you trading small updates and light banter. You paid for your half of the meal, Zayne insisting it wasn’t necessary, but you’d insisted back. There was a sense of normalcy here, something you weren’t willing to let go of easily. When you parted ways outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet. Zayne’s warm farewell echoed softly in your ears as you waved goodbye and headed back toward your apartment.
As you walked, you felt lighter somehow. The stress of the past few weeks hadn’t vanished, but Zayne’s steady presence had reminded you of something important—moments of peace still existed, even in the chaos.
The faint scent of lavender greeted you as you unlocked your apartment door, a hint of the candle you’d left burning earlier. The lights were off, and the air felt too still—unnaturally so. Your heart skipped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. A lump formed in your throat, panic curling its fingers around your chest.
You flicked the light switch, and the sudden brightness flooded the room, revealing the figure sitting on your couch. Sylus.
You froze. Your body stiffened, caught between fight or flight.
Your yelp of surprise filled the space, your pulse racing as you clutched the doorframe for support. “What—Sylus? What are you doing here?”
He was sitting on your couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest, his other hand resting on his knee. The dim light of the room softened the sharp edges of his face, but his expression was anything but gentle. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, tracked your every movement as if he were dissecting you with just a glance.
“How—what are you doing here?” you stammered, your voice shaky as your pulse raced.
Sylus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dragging over you slowly, deliberately. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it made your skin prickle.
“Darling,” he finally murmured, his voice low and smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You look… exhausted.”
You blinked, still standing frozen by the door. His tone was soft, almost tender, but it was the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, that betrayed his underlying tension.
“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice wavering as you took a cautious step forward. “It’s been a long day. What are you doing here?”
Sylus leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking faintly under his weight. “A long day,” he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yet you had time for dinner.”
“I…” you faltered, scrambling for a response. “It was just…”
“Just dinner,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone unreadable. “With… someone else.”
The air felt thick, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still calm but his body language telling a different story. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.
Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why was he here? What did he want? And why did his presence—his very existence in your space—make your chest ache in that familiar, suffocating way?
“I didn’t think…” You stopped yourself, your voice trembling. “You didn’t say you’d be coming by. You can’t just—”
“Can’t just what?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he rose from the couch, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Show up to see what’s wrong?”
Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Nothing’s wrong…”you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve been avoiding me, Darling.”
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding.
“I’ve been busy…” you said weakly, your voice lacking conviction.
“Busy,” he repeated, his gaze flicking over you again, this time with something close to disdain. “Too busy for me, but not too busy for… him.”
Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt rooted to the spot. “I didn’t think dinner with a friend would..”
“Friend?” he interrupted, the single word slicing through your sentence. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, the anxiety swirling in your chest mixing with something else—something raw and painful that you didn’t want to name. The memories of your last exchange with Sylus came flooding back—the curt messages, the unspoken finality of his “okay.” You had tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need his validation. But standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you felt every crack in the fragile walls you had built to keep him out.
“I don’t understand what you want from me,” you said finally, the words trembling as they left your lips.
His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so gentle it felt almost foreign.
“Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that made your chest ache.
Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you. The words echoed in your mind, repeating, twisting, until all you could hear was the raw edge of betrayal laced in his tone.
You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter, a little too loud in the quiet of your apartment. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you felt the space around you grow smaller. You couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. All you could feel was the heat of anger building inside of you, raw and unrefined.
“That’s rich,” you scoffed, finally managing to find your voice. “That’s really rich, coming from you of all people.”
Sylus blinked, a subtle flash of surprise crossing his face, but it quickly masked over. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, but it wasn’t enough. You had to push, you couldn’t hold back now. The words were tumbling out before you could even stop them. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, but you refused to let it spill. You wouldn’t let him see you break—not like this, not in front of him. You knew the truth. He knew the truth. It hurt, yes, but you weren’t the one to blame.
“You've been treating me like a stranger for months,” you continued, your voice trembling with anger you hadn't fully realized was there. “Barely responding to my messages, not answering my calls, and when I do see you, it’s like you can’t be bothered. You don’t even see me.” You felt the weight of every unreturned message, every unanswered call, every promise left in limbo. “I’ve had to hear from Luke and Kieran that you’re in Linkon. But you couldn’t even make time to see me.”
You felt the ache deep in your chest, that familiar, suffocating knot forming. He didn’t deserve your pain. Not anymore. You wouldn’t let him have that. Not this time.
You took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling raw, exposed. “You don’t have to feel obligated to check on me, Sylus,” you said, your words clipped and cutting through the thick silence between you. “You don’t have to feel pity for me. I know where I stand. I know my place in your life.”
His expression, that unreadable mask, cracked for the briefest of moments. His lips parted, his gaze flicking to your face, then back down to the floor. His jaw clenched. But his eyes… They weren’t the same as they’d been earlier. The hardness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, something even more intimate. The storm was gathering, but it wasn’t just in the air—no, it was inside him too.
“You know where you stand?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness you hadn’t noticed before. He took a step forward, his body closing the space between you, like a wave of raw energy crashing toward you. His proximity only made your pulse race faster, but you couldn’t back down. Not now.
“I’m just an informant, right?” you bit out, every word feeling like it sliced through the night air, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You don’t have to pretend you care, Sylus. So don’t stand there with that look on your face like I’m some important thing you need to check on.”
The air between you grew heavy, thick with unsaid words and stifled tension. Every inch of your body was telling you to get away, to shut down, to stop this before it tore you apart. But your feet felt heavy, stuck in place. Sylus’s presence was like gravity, pulling you toward him.
"You think that's all you are?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the calm before the thunder. The way he said it made your heart stutter in your chest. It was both a question and an accusation or a challenge.
But there was something else in his voice. Something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were intense, too intense, and they searched yours like he was looking for the answer. The truth.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his words clipped, as though they were difficult for him to say. “But I couldn’t....couldn’t make sense of it. Of you.”
It was the first time that he seemed genuinely vulnerable, and it left you breathless and confused. You had always wondered if there was more beneath his cold exterior. You had always told yourself that he cared. But you had never dared to confront him.
His hand was close enough now to reach out, his fingers barely brushing the edge of your wrist. The air between you was still thick with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. And yet, despite the words that had been thrown between you, there was something undeniably magnetic in the tension. The ache in your chest, the rawness, the feelings of betrayal—they didn’t wash away just because you said them out loud.
God, you hated him for this.
But part of you yearned for him. That part that still felt tethered to him, despite the distance.
Sylus’s fingers hovered over your wrist, his touch like fire against your skin. For a moment, the storm between you calmed, leaving only the faintest echo of it behind. The weight of his gaze, the force of his presence—it seemed to drown out the rest of the world.
He said nothing for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His eyes darkened further, not with anger now, but with something you couldn’t quite define.
You took a breath, your body suddenly feeling too small beneath his gaze. The storm was still inside. You had to move away. Your heart pounded as if it were trying to escape your chest, desperate to flee from whatever was stirring inside you. You couldn't—no, you wouldn’t—let yourself get caught up in whatever this feeling was. You were not some fool, ready to throw everything away for the temporary pull of his presence. You knew better than that. You had to.
Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put some distance between you and the mess of emotions bubbling under your skin. His sharp gaze was enough to make your knees tremble, and it took everything in you not to look back, not to let him see the quiet devastation that flickered inside you.
“You need to leave… Sylus.” You whispered. You staggered back a few steps, your breathing shallow, desperate. Your feet felt like lead, yet you forced yourself to walk away. You turned your back to him, willing your legs to move, hoping to escape before you got sucked into whatever dark vortex of feelings he was drawing you into.
He didn’t move. Instead, you heard the familiar click of his boots against the floor as he took a single, deliberate step forward. “Why?” His voice, low and curious, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost too intimate, as if he were searching for a piece of you, trying to understand what you couldn’t explain.
You didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the quiet confusion on his face—the faint flicker of disappointment that stung like salt in an open wound. You couldn’t let him see your weakness, couldn’t let him know how badly it hurt to be around him, how badly it hurt not to be around him.
“Is it so you can run back to your precious ‘friend’?” The words dripped with something unspoken, something that made your stomach twist.
You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when his voice—that voice, the one that threaded through the air like silk—was digging into your mind like this. The word echoed in your ears, almost mocking you, and you felt something fragile snap inside you. The weight of the years you’d spent keeping distance, of guarding your heart against him, against whatever he made you feel, started to unravel. But you couldn’t let it.
You took another step away from him. One more step, you told yourself. Just one more. You didn’t need this.
Dark tendrils wrapped around you as you move, pulling you back. He was using his evol to pull you back. You didn’t need him pulling you in again. But then it came. That touch. He pulled you to him, forceful yet intimate, and your breath caught in your throat. You were too close. Too close to the edge of losing yourself, of falling into his presence.
His hands...no, his fingers—snaked around your waist before you even knew what was happening. You gasped, body going stiff in surprise, but his grip tightened, pulling you back into him. You tried to keep moving, tried to pull away, but it was useless. His hold was ironclad, his presence consuming. His grip tightened slightly, but there was an almost comforting pressure there, a subtle reminder that despite the dispute between you, there was something undeniable between the two of you.
“Why are you running?” His voice was a whisper against your ear, the words smooth like silk, but there was something jagged beneath them—something urgent, raw.
You struggled to hold yourself together, but the more you fought it, the more it pulled—this unbearable need to lean into him, to give in to the chaos that his proximity stirred in you. You knew you shouldn’t, but everything in you wanted to. You felt the ache of wanting something you couldn't have, the sting of the distance you had put between you and the thing that was somehow both poison and relief.
His hands tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs in a movement that sent a jolt through your entire system. The words you wanted to say, the reasons you needed to get away from him, all felt so small and pointless now. How could you possibly explain this? This tension, this pull? How could you say that being near him felt like the most excruciating thing in the world, but also the only thing that made you feel alive?
“You’re not just an informant to me,” he breathed, his words slipping under your skin, curling into the tight spaces of your chest. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you this much. That you’d want to distance yourself from me...” His tone softened at the end, but it only made everything worse. The tenderness in his voice—his tenderness—was like a dagger in your side, making the blood in your veins freeze. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could hear was the deafening rush of your own heartbeat. You tried to stay composed, but the words were caught in your throat, and your body was still pressed so tightly against his, your breath shallow, your pulse thudding painfully against your ribs.
Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t you just say it—say that you couldn’t let him get close again? That you couldn’t survive another wound, another aching, empty feeling in your chest because of him? But the way his hands tightened, the warmth of his body against yours, made everything you were feeling a little too real.
You could feel his heartbeat against your back, the rhythm in sync with your own, and the pull of him was growing stronger. You could feel your anxiety bubbling up, the gnawing fear at the pit of your stomach. Was this just him toying with you? Was he trying to pull you into his world of darkness and manipulation? Or did he really care?
Your head was spinning. The emotions warred within you—anger, confusion, guilt, and something else. Something that made your heart race faster and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm that raged around you.
But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off.
Sylus' grip on you tightened, his arm like a steel band around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest rises and falls against your back as his breath brushes against your ear, warm and heavy. It’s as if he’s afraid, like if he lets go for even a second, he’ll lose you forever. You can feel the tension radiating from him, but also something softer, something desperate.
“No, Darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion, his tone possessive, as though the very idea of you slipping away shatters him. “You’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”
"You’re going to stay," He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, quieter this time, but laced with something raw and vulnerable. "...and you’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you walk away from this."
You can hear the flicker of something beneath his words—regret. And then, his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering just a little longer than necessary. He slowly spins you around, to face him. His voice softens, almost apologetic. “I know I was a dick. I know I didn’t respond to you, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to handle it… handle us. It confused me, and instead of facing it, I pushed you away.” His breath catches slightly, and you feel his chest tighten against your back.
His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly toward him, his thumb brushing over your skin as though it’s a promise, an apology. The weight of his gaze is intense, but there’s also something tender there, something that wants to pull you back in, closer. “I know you’re still hurting, darling. I see it. And I... I’ll spend a lifetime making up for it, because that’s what I want. A lifetime. With you. Not as some informant or some... thing, but as my beloved. You. By my side. Always.”
He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between you. His voice drops, the quiet sorrow of his confession sending a twinge of guilt through you. "I don’t have the right to ask this of you, I know," Sylus continues, his voice thick with emotion. "But seeing you push me away… It’s harder than I ever thought it would be. Harder than I want to admit." He presses his forehead lightly against your temple, his breath shaky. "I’ve never needed someone the way I need you, and I didn’t know how to tell you that. But I do. I need you."
You can feel him tense slightly, the shift in his demeanor telling you that his thoughts have turned darker. His voice lowers, the jealousy evident in the way he speaks, though it’s wrapped in a softness that almost makes it harder to bear.
"And Dr. Zayne... I can’t stand the thought of him being so close to you," Sylus adds, his voice low and thick with a possessiveness that unsettles you in its intensity. "It kills me, you know? Watching him with you, hearing you laugh like that with him, as if I don’t even exist." His arm tightens again, almost painfully, as if he needs to remind you, remind both of you, where you truly belong. "I know I have no claim on you... but... I can't help but feel like there’s a part of you that wants him in a way that... I can't compete with." His voice hardens, jealousy dripping from every word. "It eats at me, knowing he has a part of you that I’m fighting for."
"Sylus..." Your voice cracked slightly as you repeated his name, your breath hitching, caught in the tension between you. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like it was both a question and an answer. You had never said it so quietly, so vulnerably. The memories of earlier came rushing back—him with her, that delicate smile he gave her, the way she leaned into him just a little too comfortably. It had burned in your chest, the jealousy creeping in with a venomous ache.
The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too fast to gather, too painful to hide. "I felt the same... when I saw you with her," you confessed, swallowing thickly. "I felt so... so useless, Sylus. When I saw you with her, it felt like... like she was everything you needed. Better than me. And that... it broke me, Sylus. I felt like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t... worth it.”
The words stung, bitter and unrelenting, but the weight of them was finally lifted as you let them spill out. You felt exposed, naked in your insecurity, but somehow, it was all you could do to stand there and wait for him to respond. You could feel the weight of it, of how small you’d felt in that moment, how unworthy you had become in your own eyes. The self-doubt gnawed at your insides, each thought of her with him twisting like a knife in your gut.
Sylus’s expression softened, his features melting into a tender sadness, as though he were seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. His hand reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. His touch was a gentle comfort, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his voice a low whisper, "Darling, you're none of that... none of it, I swear."
You shook your head, feeling the tears threatening, but you couldn’t let them fall, not yet. His words were kind, but the ache in your chest was still there, an unhealed wound.
He continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. "I didn’t know you felt that way... about her, in the same way I feel about Zayne." His gaze met yours, and for the first time tonight, it wasn’t uncertain. It was so gentle, so soft, tender. "But you need to know, you're it for me, Darling…" he murmured, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the quiet storm of your emotions. "Yes, I want help from her, but..." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, "...I need you more." His words were a balm to the wounds that had festered within you, but the tenderness in his eyes was what finally reached you. His hand slid down to your shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin there. His warmth surrounded you, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his words. The jealousy, the insecurity that had burned so fiercely in you when you saw him with her, melted in the face of the tenderness he was offering now.
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as your heart raced, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Zayne… Zayne’s just a friend,” you said, your voice fragile but firm, “someone who helped me... helped me see past the stuff in my head. After everything, I just... needed someone to remind me that I’m not broken.”
Sylus's eyes softened even more, the depth of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. He nodded slowly, his expression filled with understanding. The tension between you didn’t disappear entirely, but it was now laced with something more tender. More real.
“You’re not broken, Darling.” he repeated, and there was a quiet strength in his voice, something that made you believe him more than you ever had before. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed... and more.”
"I... I’m sorry," you whispered, a lump in your throat as you looked up at him. "I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t care. I just... I was afraid you’d choose her over me."
Sylus’s fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You never have to apologize for that, Darling." he murmured, his voice warm, his breath mingling with yours. “It was my fault and I accept that.”
The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your breathing, as Sylus stood before you, his face drawn with intensity. The flickering light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his features, but his gaze... his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on you.
"I love you, Darling" he said, his words lingering in the air as though they were the first time he had allowed himself to say them out loud. "I’m in love with you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the raw emotion that tinged it. "I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve tried to deny it. Tried to hide it from you and myself, but I can’t anymore. I won’t. I love you, and I need you to know that."
The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding caught in your throat. Everything in you froze, then splintered. The confession, so pure, so vulnerable, hit you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for. You stood there, unable to move, a mix of surprise and relief flooding your chest.
He loves you. Sylus. The one you had longed for, yearned, and hoped for in silence. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the world around you growing impossibly still.
"I…" you whispered, voice trembling, and you had to stop, had to steady yourself before the words could spill from your lips. "I’ve love you too," you said, your voice barely more than a breath, but it carried all the weight of everything you had kept inside. "I’ve loved you, and I never told you because I was afraid. Afraid that I was asking too much. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid that I wasn’t enough."
Sylus’s expression softened, his lips curling into a frown as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands reached for you, but not in the way you had feared or expected. They were gentle, his touch a plea for understanding. "Oh, darling," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to hide it from me."
He reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and you flinched slightly, your emotions suddenly overwhelming you, raw and untamed. "We’re both idiots," he continued, his voice almost tender with the weight of the admission. "We’ve been skirting around each other, afraid of saying the one thing we both needed to say."
Your laugh came out soft, almost fragile, the tension in your chest breaking for the first time since Sylus had walked into your home. It was a quiet sound, but it was the first time you’d laughed all night, the first time you’d allowed yourself to feel something other than fear or uncertainty in the past few weeks with him involved. But that laugh didn’t last long. As soon as it came, the tears followed, the ones you had been holding back for so long, finally slipping free. The dam you had built up crumbled, and before you could stop them, hot tears streamed down your face. before you could even reach up to brush them away, his hand was there, steady and warm against your cheek.
"Don’t," you whispered, your voice thick with the ache you could no longer hide. "Please, don’t look at me like this. I’m—"
"Stop," Sylus interrupted softly, his hand holding yours gently, his gaze unwavering. "Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you… everything you’ve been hiding. I know you think I don’t see it, but I do." His eyes locked onto yours with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. "I see it when you think I’m not watching. I see the way you pull back, the way you hide the parts of you that you think I can’t handle. But I am looking. I’ve always been looking. And I don’t want you to hide anymore. Not from me. And I’m here and I want all of you."
His words were a medicine to the parts of you that had been bruised, the parts that had feared being exposed, vulnerable. But in his eyes, there was only love. No judgment. No pity. Just... love. And it was enough. It was more than enough.
The tears that had slipped down your face slowed, but they didn’t stop. You didn’t try to wipe them away this time, allowing yourself to be seen for the first time in ages. The sobs that followed were soft but trembled with relief, with something finally breaking open inside of you.
Sylus’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close, holding you in the kind of embrace that made you feel as though you could finally breathe, as though the weight of everything you had been carrying could finally be set down.
"I’m sorry," you whispered, almost broken. "I’ve been so scared, Sylus. Scared of this, of being cast away... of losing you."
"You’ll never lose me, Darling." he murmured, his voice firm and unwavering as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
You tilted your head back slightly, your face still damp with the remnants of the tears that had fallen, and through your wet lashes, you searched his face. Sylus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel safe, even as the doubts lingered in your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, buried deep beneath the surface.
He must have seen it in your eyes, the way you still hesitated, the uncertainty you couldn't quite shake. Sylus made a half-frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening around you for a split second, before they slid up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, a tender, pleading touch, before he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sudden, urgent kiss.
The kiss was unlike any other. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. It was intense, filled with desperation, as though he needed you to understand just how deeply he felt for you, just how much you meant to him. His hands cupped your face, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, as if the world had stopped turning just for you. His lips pressed against yours with a kind of fire, but it wasn’t angry, no. It was passionate, desperate in its own way, like he wanted you to feel how important you were to him, how much you had been wanted, loved.
Your hands trembled as they reached up, gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the distance between you, as though the kiss itself could erase every lingering doubt in your heart. Your breath hitched when you felt his pulse quicken under your touch, his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, mingling with the heat of his kiss, our lips moving together with a quiet urgency, the world beyond the two of you fading into a distant blur. You felt everything—every brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body against yours, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms, how his breath felt against your lips as if he couldn’t get close enough to you.
Your chests rose and fell together, the world spinning around you. You could feel the heat of him, the urgency that still lingered in his touch, the way he kept you close, almost as if he were afraid to let go.
Breathing became an afterthought, both of you gasping for air when the kiss broke, but neither of you pulled far enough away to lose the connection. Sylus’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, voice still heavy with emotion. “Every day, from henceforth, I will work to make sure you never feel the need to doubt yourself. Not in my life. Not with me." His words, slow and deliberate, sank deep into your heart like a promise he would keep.
The intensity of the moment hung between you both, the room still, save for the soft sound of your breathing as you both slowly came back to reality. But in his eyes, you saw nothing but certainty—certainty that you were enough. That you always had been.
His hand found yours again, fingers weaving with yours, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, as if the simple touch was a quiet reassurance.
"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding you as much as his embrace. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”
Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing his words, his warmth, his certainty. In his arms, you could feel the truth of his promise, somewhere deep inside, the doubts began to fade.
For the first time in a long time, you believed him. And when he kissed you again, this time softer, it was like the beginning of something new.
[ A disclaimer note - Please be respectful of the request ]
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AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!
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