#lnds oneshot

[mephisto-reporting]

I Love You : Sylus Edition

Premise: The plot was also inspired by one of his memories

Trope: Angst to fluff.

Pairing: Reader x Sylus

Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

The days had been slow, drawn-out, and suffocating. Every morning, you'd checked your phone, hoping for a message from Sylus or at least a notification. Nothing. The anxious knot in your stomach tightened with each unanswered call and every unread text. The silence was unbearable. It wasn’t the first time Sylus had gone radio silent, but this time was different. It had stretched on for days—too many days—and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

You had become accustomed to his presence, even if it often frustrated you. His teasing, his cocky smirk, the way he’d effortlessly control every room he entered, even when he wasn’t trying. But more than that, there was something you couldn’t ignore: the soft way he’d treat you when no one else was watching. Those tender moments between him and you, when he’d pull you close, call you his "kitten," and joke around until all the tension in the air vanished. But now? Now, all you could do was wait.

It was moments like these, your anxiety running rampant, that you regretted not having Luke or Kieran’s contact details. You had always pushed them away, telling yourself you could handle things alone. But right now, more than anything, you wanted someone to reassure you that he was okay. It felt like you were walking in a fog, each day more uncertain than the last. At night, you stared at your phone, wondering if it was broken or if he was simply ignoring you. You hated that you couldn’t even call him, hated that he was out there somewhere, unreachable.

That night, after days of waiting, you made a decision. Your heart skipped a beat when the idea hit you: the Onychinus base. It was risky, but you'd do anything to find answers. You couldn't sit idly by anymore. You knew you had to go to the Onychinus base, even if you didn't have the slightest idea of what you’d find. You knocked on the door, then knocked again, but no one opened. A cold dread settled over you as you stood there, staring at the imposing walls, the silence swallowing your voice.

Where was he? What was happening?

I miss you, you thought, a silent confession you refused to say aloud. It hurt more than you expected, and you couldn't understand why.

Two more days pass and it was driving you insane. You needed a distraction, possibly a new mission, outside Linkon. The rumble of your motorbike against the open highway barely matched the relentless thud of your heart. It had been days—agonizing, nerve-wracking days—since you'd last heard from Sylus. Messages had gone unanswered, and for all his taunting, all his smug calls to remind you he was still lurking in the shadows, now there was… nothing. Just silence. You hated it—hated that his absence gnawed at you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You hadn’t realized how much you’d gotten used to him, his cocky grins, his infuriating taunts. His voice was a presence in your life you’d come to crave despite yourself. But now, with each mile passing under your tires, you still felt a flicker of worry that he might not come back.

The sound of another engine roared beside you, and your pulse quickened as you glanced sideways, a dark figure matching your speed. That profile—it was him. It had to be.

You yanked the bike to a stop at the side of the road, helmet barely hitting the seat before you spun to face him. Sylus had pulled up, his helmet already in hand, revealing that smirk of his, like he hadn’t just vanished without a word.

Before he could get a word in, you started.

“Where the hell have you been?” you shouted. You could feel your voice tremble, frustration blending with relief. “No calls, no texts! I was just supposed to sit around wondering if you were—if you were…” You trailed off, refusing to say it out loud. “You’ve been gone for days, and I’ve been losing my mind trying to figure out what happened to you! You can’t just… just disappear like that! Do you have any idea—”

He listened, eyes gleaming with amusement, lips twitching as if he couldn’t resist toying with you, even now.  Sylus’s lips curled into a teasing smirk, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he interrupted. “Careful, kitten,” he drawled, stepping closer. “I might start thinking you actually care about me.”

You glared at him, furious but relieved to see him in one piece. “I do care about you, you idiot!” you snapped back, the words slipping out faster than you could stop them. “I can’t just sit around not knowing where the hell you’ve gone, what you’ve been doing, whether you’re dead or alive!”

“Oh, really?” he replied, feigning mock surprise as he leaned forward, his smirk deepening, eyes dark and playful. "Come on, sweetie. You’re really losing sleep over the big bad criminal of the N109 Zone? You had no reason to care for someone like me. Not unless you were just bored. Or maybe you’ve taken a liking to getting under my skin. Which, I won’t lie,” he said, chuckling softly, “I find adorable.”

The heat of your anger mixed with a surge of emotion you couldn’t keep inside anymore. Tears welled up in your eyes, your hands shaking as you wiped them away furiously, but nothing could stop the words from tumbling out, raw and unfiltered.

“The reason,” you yelled, your voice cracking, “is because I love you! That’s why!

The admission hung in the air, loud and unmistakable, and the tears that you’d been holding back prickled at your eyes. You half expected him to brush it off, to laugh at you, maybe even just get back on his bike. The world seemed to stop for a moment. Sylus stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock, his usually smug expression completely wiped off his face. His mouth parted, as though searching for the right words but coming up empty.

You stood there, heart thumping wildly in your chest, hoping to hell he wouldn’t just turn and leave, or worse, laugh at your confession. Instead, he was… completely and utterly still, his eyes locked on yours, stunned into silence. His expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability flickering across his face. He took a step closer, lifting a hand, and before you knew it, his thumb was brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Say that again, sweetie” he murmured, his voice unusually quiet, vulnerable. “I didn’t hear you.”

Your chest tightened, but you repeated yourself, more firmly this time. “I love you, Sylus. I love you.”

“You mean that?” he whispered, a rare moment of sincerity breaking through his usual bravado. “You… love me?”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. “Yes. I was terrified you were gone forever, Sylus. You make my life… complicated, but you make it better, too.”

He didn’t move for a second, just stared, processing every word. Then a slow, genuine smile spread across his face as he took your chin in his hand, bringing you closer. “I love you too, sweetie. Believe me, I didn’t think I’d hear it back. But… damn.” He chuckled, shaking his head, and then pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

“You’re insane, you know that, kitten? I didn’t think you’d ever say it.” He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “But I’m glad you did. Because I... I love you too.”

For a brief, shining moment, it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. Sylus, the man who had always played with control and power, had let himself be vulnerable, and you could see it in his eyes now. He wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t running. He was here, and he cared. His lips brushed against your forehead in a rare, tender gesture, the warmth of his touch grounding you, calming the storm of emotions in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you worry like that. But don’t think for a second that I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes, still struggling with the emotions that had bubbled up so suddenly.

Sylus’s smirk returned, though this time it had a different edge to it. “So much for not resonating with me when we first met,” he teased, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes. “I guess I’ve won, huh?”

You nudged him with your elbow, still trying to process everything, your heart hammering in your chest.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “I love you, sweetie. More than you think I do. You’re mine now.”

A blush crept up your neck, and before you could even respond, Sylus was tugging you closer, pulling you into an embrace that was more tender than anything you’d ever expected from the man who thrived on power and control.

“I’m not letting you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Not tonight. Not ever again. Guess that makes me one lucky criminal.” he murmured, squeezing you just a little tighter. He held you like he never wanted to let go, and for the first time in days, everything felt right again.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[loveanddeepthroat]

Come Home

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - Sylus has headed out to deal with some business, leaving you concerned for him as he doesn’t return when he told you he would. Fluff and a bit of angst. Sylus and MC aren’t yet in a relationship.

Word count - 2k

A/N - Hi! This is my first little one shot for LADS, and I hope you enjoy it. I do accept requests and look forward to writing more for this fandom 🖤

It had been hours since you last heard from him.

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t need to worry. That he was more than capable and has always returned in one piece. That your worry is wasted on him anyway, considering the fact that you weren’t even supposed to like him.

But you felt sick.

It was almost impossible not to be concerned. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he has always been reachable. You’ve tried his phone so many times that the battery eventually gave up on your futile attempts and went to sleep—which is what you should be doing at this hour. 

Mephisto had accompanied him on his outing, Luke and Kieran staying at the base with you under Sylus’s orders. They didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that it was currently three hours past the time Sylus had told them he’d be back. They know him better than you do, but their constant reassurance did little to soothe the panic starting to show.

“Please,” you practically beg. “I have this awful feeling that something has happened to him. Please go and look for him.”

Kieran groaned at her, tired of having to repeat himself once more. “We already told you.”

“Boss’s orders are non-negotiable,” Luke chimes in from where he’s lounging in an armchair.

“He’d have our heads as soon as we walked out the door.”

You were becoming more irritated each second by their nonchalant attitude. They didn’t even seem to give a shit, and you weren’t currently in the right mindset to delve into why you gave so much of a shit.

He was a criminal. A man who had such questionable intentions and motives that you didn’t even want to know the bare minimum of what he got up to whenever he headed out alone.

If something had happened to him, however, you wanted names.

As poorly as your acquaintance with him had begun, you found him to be more intriguing with every moment spent in his presence. His likes and dislikes, his attentive nature whenever you’re around, the way he chooses a vinyl record based on the type of mood he’s in—even the way he dresses has you analysing his every six feet and two inches of pure, solid muscle.

He wasn’t bad on the eye, especially when he was looking at you. You couldn’t fully figure it out, but there was a very subtle tenderness to his presence when he was around you. Subtle in a way that didn’t overshadow his ability to be the biggest asshole you’d ever met.

“If you keep pacing like that then I’m going to throw up,” Luke complains.

You shoot him a harsh glare. “If you don’t like it then get out and find your boss,” you grit back.

With an exaggerated huff, he pulls himself out of his seat, stretching his arms over his head. You feel a glimmer of hope, only for it to be shot down almost immediately. “I’ll let you know if I pass by him in my dreams,” he teases, walking out of the lounge and towards his own room.

You wanted to drag him back and push him out of the front door, but the man could probably put you to sleep with a snap of his skilled fingers. Instead, you growl angrily as his chuckles sound from the hallway.

Kieran stood up, too, mimicking his twin with his stretching. He paused for a moment, and you waited for his addition to his brother's teasing.

“He’ll be back,” he assured, surprising you. “If he’s not back by morning, we’ll figure something out. Just go to sleep.”

He doesn’t wait for a response from you as he follows after Luke, both of them turning in for the night. Sleep sounded like pure bliss, but you weren’t going to be able to do so.

You couldn’t even sit down, your legs automatically taking you around every single piece of furniture so many times that you were starting to get dizzy. 

“Please come back,” you chanted quietly to yourself quietly, if only to keep your pacing on track and your mind alert. 

“Please come back. Please come back.”

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but as soon as you heard the front door, you bolted for it on unsteady legs.

He came in quietly, which was completely overshadowed by your crashing into things on your way to get a visual on him. You practically fell through the door that led to the entry hall, where he looked only mildly bewildered and wholly amused.

There were no visual signs of any injury, but light blood splatters dotted across his white shirt, indicating an altercation. Mephisto sat happily on his shoulder, cawing as soon as he laid his mysterious little red eyes on you. The damn bird was never too happy whenever you were around.

Sylus raised an eyebrow at you. “Expecting someone?” 

That asshole.

He dropped off the face of the earth for hours, and had the audacity to greet you with sarcasm. 

Before your brain could warn you about the threat of putting your hands on him, you sprang forward, striking his chest with the palm of your hand. Then again. And again.

It was pathetically weak from your exhaustion, and he didn’t so much as blink as you assaulted his blood-spattered shirt. Mephisto, however, took to fighting back immediately, pecking at your hands and screeching.

Sylus shooed him away quickly, and the mechanical crow reluctantly took his leave. He proceeded to just stand there as his winged companion flew away, entirely unbothered by your outburst.

Your movements were quickly faltering, the already feeble slaps to his torso becoming far and few between. Still, he did not move. Did not speak. He was the most feared man in the N109 Zone, and he was letting you lash out on him.

Your hand finally stopped on the lapel of his coat, gripping it for a second to catch your breath. He waited for you to finally take a step back, your arms crossing over your chest immediately so you could fully close in on yourself. You were certain that your little outburst was going to bring some repercussions.

Unable to fight it, your bottom lip started to tremble. You had been walking around that lounge for so long that you had convinced yourself he was not coming back. That the wrong person had finally found him and gotten the better of him.

And you just know what he would’ve said if you indulged him in that speculation. What a silly little thought, sweetie.

He closed the space between you, your head automatically dropping to avoid his crimson gaze. You couldn’t bear it, the anticipation of what he was going to do. Your ass was likely headed back to Linkon on foot.

Warm fingers curled beneath your chin, lifting your gaze back up to his. He was towering over you, but you strangely didn’t feel intimidated. All you could feel was his warmth, and your wave of emotions crashing into their withering barrier.

His face gave nothing away as he studied you, still holding your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you finished?”

He didn’t ask it sarcastically. He was giving you an opening. If you weren’t, he’d allow you to resume until you got it all out of your system.

But you were done, your arms feeling like jelly to the point that crossing them was taking a big effort from you. You nod, feeling wetness pooling in your eyes. This all felt ridiculous. He didn’t owe you phone calls or explanations, you both barely considered each other friends. 

The surprisingly soft pad of his thumb brushed gently across your shaking lip, his eyes following the movement. “I’m sorry.”

In any other circumstance, those two words would have shocked you enough to make you fall over. But you were a little too far on the delusional side of exhaustion, your body running on the fumes of your panic.

Your eyes flicker away, the wetness tipping over the edge and dripping off of your lashes. He turned your drifting head back to him to lock eyes with you again. He never did like it when you broke his gaze.

“Things got a bit out of hand,” he explained quietly, not needing an explanation for why you were so upset. “You shouldn’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie, earning an amused chuckle from him.

He brushed his knuckle across your cheek to rid you of your tears. “No? Why else would a kitten get her claws out, then? Did Luke and Kieran forget to feed you?”

You scoffed at his teasing, following his lead back into the ease of your strange companionship. “They’re terrible babysitters,” you say, sniffling away the last of your upset. 

He smirked, moving his hand to cup the back of your neck. He pulled you towards him, embracing you gently with a deep inhale. You almost swore he was smelling your hair, but you shut that thought down. It was far too complicated for such a tired mind to dwell over.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve both embraced, but this instance did feel quite different. It felt comforting, rather than nerve wracking. Nobody embraces a man like Sylus without at least a modicum of fear beneath the surface.

“You could have called,” you whispered. “Or…or at least answered my calls.”

He sighed, the blow of breath tickling your hairline. “There isn’t a good signal where I went tonight,” he explains. “I should have mentioned that. I didn’t want to call once I did have service in case you were sleeping. I apologise.”

An overwhelming warmth filled your chest, different to the one emanating off of his body. You look up at him, lifting a hand to his forehead. He humours you by allowing it, his eyes trained on yours as you felt the cool skin beneath the hair falling over his face.

“Are you coming down with something? You’ve apologised to me twice now,” you say, half serious.

He didn’t laugh or tease, his face slipping back into that easy nonchalant expression. “I assure you, I’m not coming down with anything. I could ask you the same thing, though. Since when did you become a worrier, kitten?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. It was something you yourself had to figure out. Caring for him wasn’t on your bingo cards when you first met. If anything, the very first day you met, you’d have been relieved if he hadn’t returned.

“Don’t get used to it,” you murmur, his smirk returning at your half-assed response.

“I’ll try, but I do get attached,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. He looks as though he’s contemplating something, and it takes a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll get us some better communication devices. Something you can carry around that I can alert you on.”

A slight sense of guilt washed over you. “No, it’s okay. You don’t need to be concerned about my insecurities, I shouldn’t be keeping tabs on you.”

Sylus shook his head, his mind already made up. He taps a finger against your temple. “My concern about what goes on in there is for me to deal with. If some better technology eases your troubles, then it eases mine too.”

There it was. That side of him that kept you so very intrigued and made you feel a sense of…home? He often used words that didn’t m quite mean the same as his intentions, but you could see it in him.

He cares.

He rubs a firm hand up and down your back before turning you around, lightly pushing you away from the front door.

“It’s about time we got some sleep,” he says, barely above a whisper. 

You let him guide you through the halls, his lips dropping to your ear as he whispered again.

“Feel free to monitor me.”

[reshinless]

sylus is a girl dad.

sylus whose daughter loves telling everyone hi, with a wave and a cheeky smile (in hopes to find a mom and a wife for her papa)

she, who bumps into you while running around the candy isle.

"oh sweetheart, are you okay?" she immediately gets up to see who she bumped into-

"oh wow.. you're so pretty, lady!" she cheers as you pick her up. "mmhm? where's your parents, honey?" you search signs for any parents.bmaybe she was just wandering?

no no, a kid with this type of fashion would not just 'be roaming around'. she had a necklace with her own name on it.

"my daddy would like you." the small white-haired little girl looked at you with awe. playing with your hair as she leaned onto your chest, as if she was ready to call you mom.

you started to walk around the store, asking around if they'd seen her parents. but every stranger you met- to no avail did you get to find any clue. let alone the man himself.

"sweetheart, do you know what you're papa looked like?" tucking in one of her stray strands of hair behind her ears as she nods her head. "yeah, handsome and very nice. he is very tall too! and.. ummm... he has my hair!" huh.. you couldn't find anyone else that seemed to have similar hair to hers.

"ah, there you are scarlett. don't roam around aimlessly. you heard a low voice coming from behind you. oh this must be her father.

oh- wow. he was definitely a lot more different than expected. you expected an appearance similar to the way his little girl had dressed. "papa! look i found pretty woman!" she pulled on your collar, asking you to get closer.

'you.. you're her dad?" you looked back at the little pearl you had in your arms, she was wearing all pink and a dash of white. and compared it to the man in front of you's look. a black suit paired with a few touches of red here and there.

you chuckled at first, getting to converse a little deeper with the tall man, although he looked scary, he was not as unfriendly as he seemed.

"you're good with kids, hmm?" the white-haired male hummed, looking into your e/c eyes, he definitely could hold it. "I suppose!" you cheer as you watch the small girl run back and forth, grabbing unhealthiness off the shelves.

"miss! can you pretty please buy this for me?" she grinned, oh what a cute little smile! sylus suddenly stopped you by your shoulder; "I'm really sorry for her behavior, she doesn't usually act like this. scarlett, go put it back." the last of his sentence almost sounded nice, but a twinge of anger in it. well, understandably..

"don't worry, i can buy it for her. which one did you want again?" you stepped closer, kneeling down to her level, watching her point out what chocolate bar she wanted.

he had to marry you.

after a quick trip to the counter, the small girl happily munched on her candy, smiling a teethy grin at you. bits of chocolate over her mouth. "hey, careful now, chocolate can stain easily.." you walked to her, wiping her mouth with a part of your clothing.

"hey- you didn't have to do that." sylus was too late to stop you, the mocha already stained onto your shirt. "huh? oh it's nothing much really, I'm fine. they're just clothes anyway."

"let me repay you."

"no, no need really!"

"let me."

"no! it's fine!"

he grabbed your hand not too roughly, but places what looked like at least one-thousand dollars?!

by the time you looked up from counting the money, he had already gone. oh, what's this? a note?

"call me XXXX-XXX-XXX when you find something." huh. his number? now that's interesting!

[beneathashadytree]

JEALOUS MUCH? - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : subtle suggestiveness, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff for shits n giggles

Additional notes : Another adorable request I loved making to show just how horrendously down bad they all are for MC🙏🏽 Hope y’all enjoy it!!🫶🏽

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[trappolia]

rafayel misses you.

it's ridiculous, given that you and him occupy the same space. his head has made an imprint upon your lap from how long he has been laying upon it, and your body instinctively curls over his as if to defend him — him, of all creatures — from the big bad things out there in the world.

it's a rare occurence, surely, considering the line of your work, and rafayel knows that he should feel some semblance of gratitude for you— but there is a selfish part of him that wonders why this is so rare. why is it that he should feel grateful that you only occasionally take time off to spend it with him instead of running after wanderer tracks like some headless chicken.

what irks rafayel the most is that even now, your mind is elsewhere; pondering about your next work day, your next course of action in your investigations regarding the aether core, everything in between— but never him.

"do you love me?" he blurts out suddenly.

rafayel hears you hum, and the dappled shade your frame casts over him where he lays upon your lap shifts as you look down at him. there's a soft smile upon your face, though your eyes shine with a glint of curiosity— puzzlement.

"of course i do," you say, as if it were obvious— as if rafayel could feel it.

and he does. he knows it, deep down in his heart and in his soul, that you love him as surely as the wave comes back to shore; you'll always come back to him at the end of the day, and rafayel thinks that it should matter.

it should matter. it should. that's what he tells himself then as he closes his eyes, turning his head to bury it in the soft of your stomach— and will all his wretched thoughts away.

[blaire-apricity]

Possessive Desires

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝: 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘉𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 ���𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 18+ 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊, 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮 (𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨), 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 (𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦) & 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦.

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

His fingers traced a tantalizing path down to her thighs, then slowly moved along her inner thighs, sending waves of pleasure and anticipation coursing through her. "One more word," he murmured, his tone dark and promising, "and I'll show you exactly who you belong to."

His statement enticed her, an undercurrent of danger making her heart race, yet she couldn't help but be drawn to it. She looked at him, her eyes glazed with desire, a sly smirk tugging at her lips as she decided to pull his last strings. "You're adorable, Lumi."

His jaw clenched at the use of that teasing nickname, his grip on her waist tightening possessively. Without warning, he lifted her effortlessly from the seat, his strong arms enveloping her in a firm embrace.

In one fluid motion, he spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, his body a solid barrier of strength and desire that trapped her in place.

"Oh, you have no idea the game you're playing, sweetheart," he purred, his voice a velvety mix of menace and lust. His eyes blazed with a hungry flame as his fingers tangled in her hair, securing her firmly as his mouth descended upon hers once more.

She squeaked as he pushed her against the wall, his body melding with hers, the pressure both exhilarating and overwhelming. Perhaps her teasing had gone too far, but it was too late to turn back now. His kiss was demanding and fervent, eliciting a soft groan from her lips, "mm.." The intensity of his desire left her breathless and completely at his mercy.

Xavier deepened the kiss, his tongue entwining with hers in a passionate, intoxicating dance. His body pressed even closer, the heat of his skin seeping into hers, creating an electric connection. His hand glided down her side, tracing the curve of her waist, over her hip, and down to her thigh.

He shifted slightly, lifting her leg just enough to press his hips snugly against her, the hard evidence of his desire unmistakable. His kiss was possessive, each stroke of his tongue a clear declaration of ownership.

"H-Hya—!" Her gasp was soft and breathless as he lifted her leg, exposing her to a more vulnerable position, especially since she was only wearing a skirt. The sensation was both thrilling and overwhelming, making her feel acutely aware of every point of contact between them.

As her gasp escaped her lips, he continued to devour her mouth, his body pinning her securely against the wall. The heat between them grew more intense, his kisses becoming harder and more demanding, filled with an insatiable hunger.

The hand gripping her waist trailed down to her legs, his fingers gently caressing her thigh, tracing small, tantalizing circles over her smooth skin. His thumb slipped under the edge of her skirt, brushing against the top of her thigh-high stocking, teasing her with each subtle movement.

"M-Nn.." She closed her eyes, struggling to maintain her composure as she felt his fingers at the edge of her skirt. The combination of his touch and his kisses sent shivers through her body, making it increasingly difficult to think clearly. The intensity of his desire, combined with the vulnerability of her position, left her breathless and yearning for more.

He smiled slightly at her struggle, the soft sounds escaping her lips only fueling his desire. His thumb brushed upward along her inner thigh, slipping under her skirt, his touch growing bolder and more insistent.

He broke the kiss, his mouth finding the delicate flesh of her throat. He trailed a path of hot, possessive kisses down the sensitive skin, his lips leaving a burning trail in their wake. His teeth nipped gently at her collarbone, a sharp contrast to the soothing caress of his tongue as it followed, erasing the sting.

"A-Aah..!" Y/n gasped, the sensation causing her to lift her chin slightly, subconsciously giving Xavier more access to her neck.

Taking full advantage of her responsive arch, his mouth continued its seductive path down her neck. His tongue lapped at her skin, savoring the taste, while his teeth grazed over the tender flesh. He found a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat and sucked on it, intent on marking her as his own.

His hand slid higher, fingers deftly slipping beneath her panties to explore her heat. "You're so soft, sweetheart," he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and his voice thick with undeniable desire.

His fingers traced along her intimate folds, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. He found her most sensitive bud and pressed gently against it, earning a sharp gasp from her lips.

He continued his sensual assault, kissing a path down her chest. His teeth caught the neckline of her top, pulling it down to expose her generous cleavage to his hungry gaze. His body pushed further into hers, his growing excitement pressing firmly against her, making his desire abundantly clear. His kisses grew more fervent, each one a testament to his possessive need to claim every inch of her.

"H-Haa... M-Mn.." Y/n’s whimpers grew more frequent and urgent as Xavier continued his relentless actions, each touch and kiss pulling more helpless sounds from her.

He captured her mouth once more in a heated kiss, his lips bruising hers as he tasted every moan she made. His fingers continued their exploration of her heat, teasing and taunting her sensitive bud with gentle, torturous circles. He relished in the small, pleading noises she made, drinking them in like the finest ambrosia.

Shifting his stance slightly, the movement caused his hardness to press even closer, the friction nearly overwhelming him. His need for her was a roaring inferno, an all-consuming desire that demanded satisfaction.

He pushed her harder against the wall, his body melding into hers with an urgency that left no room for doubt. His fingers slipped down, slowly teasing her entrance, the tips brushing over her slick folds with deliberate care. Breaking the kiss, his breath hot and heavy against her lips, he murmured, "You're mine, alright?"

Before Y/n could respond, in one swift motion, he lifted both of her legs, hiking her thighs up to drape over his hips, opening her even more to his touch. His finger slipped inside her heat, and a low, primal groan escaped his throat at the sensation.

"A-Aah..!" Y/n arched her back immediately, the sudden intrusion making her feel incredibly exposed and vulnerable. She panted lightly, her gaze half-lidded, her expression a tantalizing mix of arousal and surrender that sent waves of heat coursing through Xavier.

His finger curled inside her, rubbing against her inner walls with practiced precision. "Y/n, you're soaked," he whispered huskily, his voice thick with ravenous desire and a hint of teasing satisfaction.

His touch grew bolder with every response he elicited, his fingers moving with increasing confidence and intent. He added another finger, carefully stretching her, his movements designed to bring her to the peak of pleasure.

His mouth found her neck again, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, leaving possessive marks in their wake. His kisses trailed down to her collarbone, each one more fervent than the last, as he claimed every inch of her with insatiable need.

"Mmhhm-! Aa-aah..~!" Y/n's moans grew louder, each sound a testament to the intense pleasure Xavier was eliciting from her. She was losing her composure completely, her body tightening around his fingers as her pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

Encouraged by her moans, Xavier continued his ministrations, moving his fingers deeper and faster within her. His thumb found her sensitive bud again, rubbing it with precise, rhythmic circles. He wanted to see her come undone, wanted to be the one to drive her over the edge.

His words became more heated, his voice thick with desire. "Let go for me, sweetheart."

"A-Aahh! X-Xavier..— Haa-..~!" Y/n moaned out, her voice trembling as she felt herself nearing the edge, her mind going blank with each thrust of his fingers.

Hearing his name spill from her lips like a reverent prayer drove him further. He moved his fingers faster and deeper, relentlessly seeking to draw out her climax, while his thumb maintained its rhythm on her sensitive bud.

He nipped at her earlobe, then whispered against her ear, his breath warm and laden with desire. "That's right. Say my name again." His voice carried a dominating edge that sent shivers down her spine.

Her world narrowed to the sensation of his fingers deep and curling inside her, making her back arch even more. She was drunk with pleasure, feeling herself teetering on the brink. "X-Xavier..—"

A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name on her lips, breathless and full of need. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing the flesh, before whispering against her skin. "I need to hear you scream my name when you come."

His fingers twisted suddenly, increasing in speed and pressure. His sole focus was on her pleasure, her release. He wanted nothing more than to be the one to send her over the edge.

Y/n's breath hitched as she felt the intensity of his movements. Her body tightened, and with a final, desperate cry of "X-Xavier!" she shattered, her climax ripping through her with an intensity that left her trembling. Xavier held her through it, his fingers gentle now, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from her.

He watched her with a fierce, possessive satisfaction, knowing he had claimed her completely at that moment.

Her release hit like a tidal wave, drowning her in an ocean of bliss. Her body shuddered uncontrollably against his, her head tilting back as she rode the relentless waves of pleasure. Her cries grew louder, his name spilling from her lips in an unrestrained moan. Xavier's fingers didn't stop; although his thrusts slowed and grew gentler, they prolonged her climax, dragging it out until she was left trembling and gasping for him.

He finally withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste her essence. His breath was quick and deep, but a satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he took in her spent form.

His eyes fixated on her flushed face, her half-lidded expression making her look even more delectable. Shifting his grip, he supported her limp body against him, before leaning in to capture her panting lips in a gentle, lingering kiss.

She tasted divine, an intoxicating blend of sweetness and desire. Y/n panted heavily, her body sagging into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder as she struggled to regulate her irregular breathing.

He held her tightly, his fingers tenderly caressing her flushed cheek. The heat radiating from her body matched his own, creating a shared warmth that enveloped them both. His lips pressed gently to her temple, and he murmured softly against her skin, "You're incredibly beautiful. Just... breathtakingly so."

His thumb traced the faint mark he'd left on her neck, a small love bite that filled him with possessive satisfaction. The sight of the mark on her skin was a silent declaration of his claim, and it stirred a deep sense of pride within him.

As her breathing gradually evened out, he continued to hold her close, offering her a moment to come back to reality. Then, with a smirk, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you gonna apologize for your little teasing game, sweetheart? Or are you gonna keep testing me?"

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑋𝑎𝑣𝑖 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠! 𝑀𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑; 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡!

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞: 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐞

[onlinekitsune]

LOST IN A ROOM

“boy, what did I tell you? love makes you a dead fool.”

— #RAFAYEL: LOVE AND DEEP SPACE

— PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS: rafayel x gnc!reader, mainly fluff, with a bit of flirting and banter, implied nsfw things but nothing specifically stated, no warnings!!

— SYNOPSIS: after a work trip, you return to a pouty and dramatic rafayel. you attempt to make up for your absence by surprising him with a sudden visit. but end up… having a different way of catching up.

— WRITER’S NOTE: long time, no post. hiii besties, i found this in my google doc’s and decided to finish it. i haven’t been too inspired to write lately so my bad. i stole the title from a song by rome hero foxes. uhhmmm not proofread per usual. enjoy and take care of yourself, mwah mwah ♡

It had been a while since you were able to go to Rafayel’s studio. It wasn’t intentional, it had just been a busy week. A week that was quickly reaching two and he wasn’t shy to remind you almost constantly.

“Aren’t you my bodyguard? You’re supposed to be checking up on me too.”

You rolled your eyes, hearing his voice vacant your head again. To make up for your absence, you decided to surprise him with a visit. You quietly opened the door, trying your best to sneak through. It was hard to do since it was so silent, the only sound being a soft flutter of a curtain from an opened window. You searched each room, anticipating Rafayel, but was met with disappointment. It wasn’t until you reached his living room where you saw him. He was laid out on his couch, his breath slow and calm. You walked closer, making sure you stayed silent. Your hands hovered over him before caressing his face with your finger tips.

“Hm… you’re cute even when you’re sleeping.” You scoffed, brushing your hand down his face. You moved a stray hair from his face, taking another second just gazing at him. “I’ll let you get your rest.”

You let out a soft breath, going to turn towards the door. You didn’t even make it a step further before, Rafayel quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you back into the couch causing you to fall into his arms. He wraps them around you before gently placing his head into the crook of your neck.

“Y-You were awake?” You gasped, flipping your head towards him. His eyes were still closed, with the same calm expression as before.

“Mm... no need to be so loud.” He grumbled, pulling you even closer. You were basically just his plushie at this point. “Surprised you even remembered that I’m alive.” His eyes remained closed but now accompanied by a pout. Your hands moved towards his, now realizing they were placed on your waist.

“Rafayel… I was busy. I did tell you this time. And I came here to surprise you. Surely that counts for something.” You softly sighed, brushing your thumb across his hand.

“Hmph.” He continued to pout. “What are you going to do to make it up for me?”

“Was coming over not enough?”

“Not at all.” He whined, finally opening his eyes. “That’s your duty, a long awaited one at that.” You shake your head and let out a small laugh.

“Fine. What can I do to make it up to you then?”

“Prove that you're sorry.”

“And how do I do that? I already apologized to you.”

Rafayel huffed, before slightly shrugging. “That’s for you to figure out. It wouldn’t be genuine if I told you what to do, now would it?”

You stayed there in silence for a moment, contemplating on what to do. You managed to turn around to face him. Rafayel made a face at you but continued to look at you curiously.

“You’re such a baby, you know?” You laughed, reaching towards his face. You slowly leaned in to kiss him, but instead placing it on his cheek.

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

“You’re so dramatic, Raf. Do you want a kiss that badly?” You teased, half joking. He suddenly pulled you even closer. You were almost on top of him at this point. Your leg rested on the top of his thigh.

“I do. Is that so wrong?” He asked, sliding his hand underneath your chin to the back of your neck. Your words were caught in your throat, unaware of this side of him. “Can I kiss you, Miss bodyguard?”

Your words continued to be stuck, only able to nod continuously. Rafayel slowly leaned in, placing a soft kiss against your lips. You melted against his softness and the warmth coming from him. You came to after a second wrapping an arm around his neck. You were hungry for more. His kiss was too addicting, you would have gotten mad if you could think straight. The soft kiss evolved into desperation and need. You softly bit his lip, in hopes that he’d slightly part them. And he did. He knew your body language all too well just from the encounters with wanderers.

“Now who’s so dramatic?” He chuckled, pulling away. You pout, looking up at him. “Come on, don’t you wanna tell me about your trip?” Rafayel smirked, sitting up straight. Your brows slightly furrowed. You’d forgot how cocky he could act.

“That can wait… stop acting so unaffected. I can see how flushed your face is! We have… catching up to do.” You muttered, pulling him back towards you. He returned without a second thought. Chuckling on his way down seeing your sudden switch.

[kykyonthemoon]

Oasis Tale

After the events in Sea of Golden Sands, Rafayel rewrites his story on a secluded oasis.

ಇ. Rafayel x MC (Female Reader) - written in his pov.

ಇ. Tags: oneshot, fluff with light angst, secret wedding, inspired by Arabian/Middle East wedding cultures, Rafayel's pov, mentioned of his myths (Sea of Golden Sand), Talia.

ಇ. Word count: ~1k2

ಇ. Requested by Na Sa

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

The entrance of the great tent opened, allowing a gentle breeze from the lake in the distance within. I sat on the edge of the bed strewn with red flower petals, gazing at Talia, who had just arrived.

“What is it that you want to tell me?” I inquired after considering that Talia's eyes seemed to convey countless unspoken thoughts. 

“What else can I say? You have already made your decision.” 

Talia responded with a sigh. I beckoned her over and said, “Then come and give me your blessing.”

Talia was my sole remaining family in the world. If it were not for her, I certainly would not be here, at this moment. I bowed my head, receiving Talia's blessing as the representative of my ancestors. She departed soon after, with a reminder:

"One night. You two only have one night.”

I nodded slightly. One night was enough.

Once Talia's footprints were covered by the wind and sand, I stepped out of the tent. The sunset covered the cool water in the middle of the oasis, a magnificent crimson as I stepped down. I waited. I waited for the moment when the bell-like sound of the jewelry adorning that one young maiden rang out. Then I turned around. 

She stood in all of the colors that I appreciated of this world. A fiery dress with gold and pearl jewelry - those had belonged to her for a long time, then given to her once more on this special day. Her bare feet glided across the verdancy of the oasis. Her face was obscured by a thin layer of cloth the same color as her dress, which fluttered in the breeze with every step she took.

She stopped at the edge of the lake, seemingly wondering about something. I reached out a hand and she took it. The water hugged her legs, rising gradually to her exposed waist. Her body was painted with traditional Lemurian insignia, precisely like mine. They were an indication that she was my bride.

I had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Since the ocean had not yet dried.

My trembling hands, with all clumsiness, grasped her veil and removed it. Her rosy cheeks emerged. These eyes penetrated my soul. Akin to when we had first exchanged our vows.

She did not recall. How wrenching it was! Only I, doomed to live without a heart, must remember all. She once kissed me; she once pierced through my heart. I wanted her to remember, yet hoped she would forever not. Love was a misfortune to any Lemurian foolish enough. And I was such Lemurian, the one who gave his heart to her.

Countless lives had passed, I had lived without a true heart. I had waited until the day I saw her again. I had waited until the day she called my name once more. 

“Rafayel.”

From the moment her lips uttered my name, I deliberately bound myself to her for eternity.

I smiled at her, addressing her in Lemurian. “My bride.”

The wheel of fate spun again, and the threads of our destiny were intertwined once more. I saw her again. She found me. I could not stop the torrent in my heart when I stood in front of her; was it hatred or was it love? I only knew one thing, that my heart was throbbing in her chest. She was my heart, my life.

Yet, I was no longer the God of the Sea, and she was no longer a Princess. Even when she reincarnated, even when I erased her memories of us in this life, she still found me.

Then, we were in the midst of an oasis, bathing in pristine water and reciting our vows. This sacred ceremony involved only the two of us. Sparkling drops fell through her fingers, down on my hair. Then it was my turn to catch the water and soak her hair. She trembled slightly. 

“Rafayel,” every time she called my name, my hollow chest seemed to retrieve its rhythm. “Why are you crying?”

Only then did I realize the pearls were falling from the corners of my eyes. Her delicate hands reached out to catch them. She let them float in the water and then caressed my cheek.

"Have I forgotten something, about you, about us?"

I grabbed her wrist, buried my face in her palm, and pulled her a little closer. Her body carried a distinct flowery aroma that I always recalled.

"Nothing. You did not forget anything significant." I responded. I did not wish her to remember the tragedies of the life we ​​had gone through. Yet, in the end, those memories were gradually finding their way back to her.

She spoke again:

“Perhaps I have not recalled all the things we went through together yet. But what I know is that you are in front of me at this moment.”

I gazed at her for a while. Her scent, her breath, her every touch were so real. She was real. Her hand on my face shifted gently. She grasped my hand and placed it on her chest.

“If I ever forget you again, even just seeing you, I shall give my heart to you once more. I know I will always do the same thing.”

Her heart was beating consistently, full of vitality and unending fire. It once belonged to me, now it was hers, forever. I knew the Lemurians out there were awaiting me to seize that heart out of her body. I knew I must sacrifice the person I loved the most in exchange for the restoration of a golden Lemuria. Yet I knew that I would not accept such a fate. Being here with her was proof that we were already writing a different story, forging a different path.

I was not certain how long she and I could go on this path. But I must try. I lifted her hand and placed a kiss on it. I whispered to her:

"Do not say that. Do not claim you will surrender your heart to me anymore. I merely wish it to stay with you.”

The sound of her laughter reverberated in my ears. She responded:

“You once said, Lemurians must rewrite their own stories, with their own hands. I believe in you.” 

She lifted my hands and clasped them together. 

“This time, let me rewrite it with you.”

Her hands entwined with mine. She moved forward and sealed her eyes. Her lips parted. The sun had completely set and the lanterns floating on the lake lit up by my power. The two of us were basking in a pond of stars. 

The tip of my nose met hers. In my mind, a storm was brewing; the burden of lost Lemuria on my shoulders, the happiness of a lifetime that she was willing to offer me. Yet I feared no longer. For as my lips found her kiss, I knew our tale had been rewritten, beginning with that night.

-The end-

[the-xolotl]

Thundering Rain

Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.

—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.

It’s true you loved your job, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.

And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.

Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa and hadn’t come back.

The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.

He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.

“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.

Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”

“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”

The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.

The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually concentrating and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”

“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.

More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.

“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immortalize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about art. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.

Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.

Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.

Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The content of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.

A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.

“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”

“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.

Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”

If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.

Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.

“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.

These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.

⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friends/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.

—

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

—

⤷ dividers : cafekitsune ✰

[mephisto-reporting]

Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[calxvace]

Sylus | a silly dream

— sylus becomes more clingy than he is today.

Sylus was never a fan of early mornings, he'd usually prefer businesses at dawn so you were shocked to be woken up by him looking at you, just admiring your beauty presented by the soft strand of sunlight running through your cheeks. Not saying anything, he tucks a strand of your hair and caresses your cheeks while giving you his tender smile.

Mornings with sylus was either him still sleeping and you preparing to leave, but today it was one of those slow mornings every once in a while. You hadn't said anything and just indulge in this version of sylus; mild, warm, cuddly.

You stretch your arms out to invite him into a hug, he nods as if saying you knew what he wanted. Embracing you with all of his arms felt like calm waters you touch whenever you see a pond, serenity.

"i love you" he says slowly tightening his embrace.

"i love you" a hand back to your cheeks the tip of his thumb almost touching your eyelashes as he moves it slowly, a gently peck you received. You see his eyes wandering on your face before landing yours, "I'd live for you honey"

'Oh to be stuck at this moment forever' Sylus is affectionate yes, but this soft? You'd blow up mountains just to see this again.

Bringing your palms to his chest you say, "and i love you too, sylus, everyday and everywhere." That made him give out the sweetest, the most tender look making your heart flutter and eventually blush making you cover your face. Seeing this made him chuckle.

This would last forever but your stomach steals the show and grumbles. He let out a chuckle and stood up stretching out his hands to you. "How about a classic breakfast? How do you like your eggs miss?" showing you his iconic smirk that got you smitten, the both of you wen on your way to the kitchen.

"so..., what could be the reason you are this sweet? Are you dying?" you joked sitting by the kitchen aisle.

"Sweetie where did you get that? Can't I just dote on my lover? Don't you like it this way?" "I mean sure, I do love it but I saw you how you watch me on my sleep"

You know sylus, every face he makes, the replies he would say and more. A small shift on his face and you'd notice it in a second and this time, you saw how sad his eyes were, almost as if he's grieving.

"Did I look like a creep? Im sorry babe, anyone with a goddess sleeping beside them would do the same." you knew he'd play it out like this, classic sylus who does not want you to worry over things.

Cracking eggs on the hot pan, you stepped down and went to give him a back hug, "You looked like you were about to cry, anyone would do that? I think no. Come on tell me what's wrong"

"Its really nothing honey, my body just aches that's why I looked a little sad. I think the eggs are done, could you toast the bread please?"

"Sylus I know you, even if your body is halved that's not the face you make. Honey I'm here, please?" you said worriedly, even though sylus always assure you about anything, its actually not helping your relationship specially when he's like this, refusing to talk about it if he knows its "not" your concern. He removed your arms around his waist and faced you putting both his hands on your shoulders, "You really... are quite stubborn" "well yeah? Didn't you knew that before bagging me?" He smiled at your light joke but then sighed, you furrowed your eyebrows gesturing' what's wrong' "I didn't really want to concern you about this but the queen gets what she wants" removing his hands on your shoulders, he slowly worked his way close to you and rested his head on the crook of your neck.

"I had a bad dream, it felt so real I woke up in cold sweat and tears in my cheeks" you could hear how much he tries not to sound really said as to not worry you. "Tell me about, there was a saying that says if you tell someone about your bad dream, it makes it disappear" tapping his back area gently, you went and make him face you.

Looking at his eyes, you nodded and let him tell you his silly dream. "We were working together on a mission to find out how these so called aether cores work. To get our answer, I'd have to kill you" His voice breaks lightly because he was having a hard time to tell you about it. You get it now, why he didn't want to tell you, because look at you now you're tearing up. "Ah, this is why, don't worry honey, in my dream I couldn't do it and instead-"

"You killed yourself?! No!" you said wiping your tears.  

He hugs you to calm you down, it wasn't really about how you are sad but you remembered what happened a millennium year ago. "woops I over reacted there" you said smiling to him. He just flashed you with another confused laugh. It doesn't matter to him how quirky you look he just accepts it while he gives you his affectionate smile. Wow you scored big, this man just accepts you as who you are. "Okay! Since you told me about your dream, it will not happen anymore!" "Ha ha ha, what a silly theory you got there, but thank you honey" he said booping your nose and hands you a plate with freshly cooked eggs over avocado toast. Did you forget he asked you to toast the bread? Did he just did it himself because you're too busy listening to him? Uhm yes? "I'm so lucky I went to that fireworks show and bumped into you"

"Well I don't believe in destinies and I still think you stalked me" its obvious that he's teasing you, he's got that smug look. "Aw you caught me! But I found you didn't I?" you went with his teasing "Yes, you found me" Talking about how you guys met and how your relationship progressed was the topic the whole breakfast, in those moments you really thanked the heavens for letting the two of you meet again. You finally fulfilled your promise to him back when he was still the leader of onychinus, back when you risked your life for him to finally find the last piece to the aether core rabbit hole.

[beneathashadytree]

ACCIDENTAL CONFESSIONS - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : none I think, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff!!

Additional notes : This was an adorable request I’d received!! I love the trope of accidentally confessing to someone (because it’s literally something I’d do—) so I hope I did it justice with this!!

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[trappolia]

thinking about soft domestic zayne as a father. no matter how you came to be with child (whether it was through your own pregnancy, surrogacy or adoption) best believe this man is by your side throughout the entire process. though a chronic overworker, he understands that he is needed by your side more often now and finds some way to delegate most of his tasks to other doctors he deems capable. he worries about the staff handling more complicated cases, but it's more often than not overshadowed by his concern for you, who is most beloved and dear to him.

his concern is more so on being a good father; certainly he handles both health and legal matters with meticulous care and a cool head, but it is the act of raising a child that makes him wary. while he has no doubt of your capabilities as a parent, he worries that he may come off as too... tense or standoffish to the child you will call your own. he finds himself poring over parenting books as often as he does medical journals-- perhaps even more so.

[blaire-apricity]

hiiii :3 i have a request for a short fanfic for our bunny boy xavier hehe <3 let’s say reader gets a tattoo of xavier’s sword (like the design behind his latest promise outfit) all the way down their back ;) i would die to see how he would react to this 😝

this can be fluff or whatever you’re comfy with ! tqsm 💗

Tethered by Ink

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘟𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧(?), 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊.

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

You stood before the full-length mirror, the silky nightgown clinging to your body in delicate waves, accentuating every curve. Slowly, you turned, glancing over your shoulder to admire the tattoo that now graced the small of your back—an intricate design inspired by Xavier's sword. The fine details mirrored his blade’s sharp yet elegant craftsmanship, making you smile at the thought of him permanently etched into your skin, a part of him that you would carry always.

Your eyes flickered back to the mirror just as the bathroom door opened with a soft creak, steam spilling into the room like a veil of mist. Xavier emerged, fresh from the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, a towel in hand as he casually dried his damp hair. His movements paused the moment he caught sight of your tattoo.

Right, he hadn’t seen it yet.

He stood still, his eyes widening slightly, taking in the sight. For a fleeting moment, his usual calm demeanor faltered. The expression he wore was one of silent awe, like a rare moment when the world around him slowed, leaving him utterly captivated. You blinked, mirroring his reaction, uncertainty settling in as you wondered if he approved.

“Do you like it?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned to face him. Your hand instinctively rested over your chest, fingers clutching the fabric nervously as the silence between you grew heavier.

His answer wasn’t immediate. Instead, time seemed to stretch endlessly as he closed the distance between you. He moved with purpose, gently wrapping one arm around your waist. His broad chest pressed warmly against your back, and his free hand trailed along the curve of your spine, where the inked design was now part of you. His fingers brushed over your skin, featherlight and deliberate, tracing the lines as though memorizing each one.

His lips hovered just above your ear, his breath fanning across your skin, sending a rush of warmth through your body. “I love it,” he murmured, his voice low and full of affection, each word punctuated by the intimate proximity of his mouth to your ear. The gentle, teasing brush of his breath caused your pulse to quicken, a rush of heat spreading through your cheeks as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror, blushing.

He hadn’t moved far, still standing close enough that his scent, fresh from the shower, engulfed you. It was intoxicating, a blend of clean soap and something uniquely him that made your knees feel weaker. You lowered your gaze to the reflection in the mirror, catching a glimpse of your own flushed face, the soft pink hue betraying the rapid beat of your heart, while Xavier’s gaze remained fixed on your back, a mix of admiration and something deeper—possessiveness.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the intensity of the moment only heightened when his hand, resting against your waist, tightened slightly. “Did it hurt?” His voice was barely a murmur, almost a hum, his thumb continuing to lazily draw soft, aimless patterns against your skin.

You blinked, snapping out of the daze. “Huh? Oh—no, not really.” You shook your head lightly, remembering the brief discomfort of the tattoo, which paled in comparison to the battle scars you bore as a hunter. The pain had been fleeting, but his concern warmed you. Despite everything you endured, it was sweet that he still cared about something as minor as this.

Xavier hummed, clearly pleased with your answer, though his gaze never left your tattoo, his fascination evident. The air between you felt charged, as though he were absorbing every detail of the ink that now marked your body in his name. He caught your eye in the mirror, his expression shifting slightly, his brows knitting together as if contemplating something. Without warning, he leaned down, the hand on your waist tightening once more as his lips brushed the top of your spine.

The sensation sent a jolt through you. His kisses were featherlight, yet they lingered, their soft warmth leaving a trail of sensation that made your breath hitch. He was gentle, his thumb continuing its soothing motions, ensuring you were never overwhelmed. But there was no mistaking the possessive pride in the way his lips caressed the design—this mark of him on your body.

Even though the tattoo would often be hidden beneath your clothes, he knew it was there, and that knowledge filled him with satisfaction. This symbol—his sword—was now a part of you. A silent claim. And the thought that others might never see it, but he would, especially in your most intimate moments, sparked something possessive in him. His lips hovered over your skin, and though he never said the words, you could feel it in his touch.

The next time he held you, he knew this new view of your back would be something he’d look forward to, a reminder that you were his—deeply, unmistakably his.

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑜𝑥 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒- 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑛! 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜.

𝐼 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑎𝑛 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 (𝑖𝑓 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊) 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠, ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠~

[ndisalover]

LOVE & DEEPSPACE

“Xavier, a mysterious hunter, Rafayel, a passionate artist, Zayne, a talented cardiac surgeon and Sylus, the leader of Onychinus”

xavier

>fics

>oneshots - flickering beat

>headcannons

zayne

>fics

>oneshots

>headcannons

rafayel

>fics

>oneshots

>headcannons

sylus

>fics

>oneshots

>headcannons

[kykyonthemoon]

Once upon a time, there was a jasmine garden in Elysium.

Once upon a time in Elysium, there was a garden, two hearts, and one life.

This story sets in an alternative universe.

ಇ. Zayne x MC (Female Reader)

ಇ. Warnings and tags: major character death, angst, hurt, emotional hurt, a little comfort, mental and health issues, childhood friends

ಇ. Word count: 3k

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. Request

ಇ. See the end of this post for author's notes.

She was sent to Elysium from a very young age.

It was a special place, for special children like her. She was unwell, and she was aware of it. She was concerned before being brought here, but she later felt fortunate because not every ill child could afford the luxury to stay in such a wonderful place.

There, she received treatment for her heart disease. She made a second home, where medical experts attended to her with great care and tenderness. She made friends, not many, and most were just short and intermittent periods of time before they were taken out of the gate and disappeared forever. Still, she had a vast garden with grass reaching to the horizon and plenty of vibrant blossoms for companionship.

Then, some time after arriving at Elysium, another friend came to stay in room number ten next to hers.

With cautiousness she opened her chamber door a little. Through a tiny crevice, she caught a glimpse of a towering lad who appeared to be a few years older than her. He dressed discreetly and in many layers despite the fact that the weather had gradually turned to summer. His pale face revealed both panic and restraint not to let it overwhelm him. His fists clenched over the handle of his suitcase, and she could see little snow-white particles presenting on those hands.

The man who accompanied him was a familiar doctor. She had seen him come here a few times but had never spoken to him. She heard something unclear in the exchange between him and the chief nurse. Her attention was drawn to the peculiar kid who would become her peer in the next room. At last, as if he sensed her keen interest from a distance, he lifted his head slightly. And then, his eyes found hers.

The friend in room number ten was extremely quiet. He did not sit and eat with the other children, instead sat alone in silence at the corner with the least amount of sunshine and the fewest number of people. He did not participate in daily activities like the rest. Most of the time he locked himself in his room, or perhaps was confined there. He did not converse with anyone other than the special nurses who were solely responsible for his care. Occasionally, the doctor, who was also his father, paid him a visit. But he frequently departed looking incredibly haggard, with little cuts on his hands or face.

Sometimes, the boy's room grew cold so unnaturally.

It was in the middle of the night, while sleeping soundly on her soft bed, surrounded by the warmth of freshly laundered blankets and her beloved plushies, she was suddenly awakened by the noises echoing from the other side of the wall. She was startled awake by noises echoing from the other side of the wall. She heard clanking and yelling, but they appeared to be muffled by something. Then, ice began to coat the wall that separated room number nine and ten.

She got up. Bare feet met the ground, freezing. When she opened the door to step out, a group of night nurses raced into the adjacent room. The door opened. The scene within had frozen her.

That child was encased in a thick sheet of ice that extended from his palm, forming a cocoon around his writhing body on the ground. A nurse had to use her fire Evol to shatter the ice before two others dragged him out. On his chest was an ice blossom that resembled crystal. It damaged him, and she saw only the anguish he was experiencing.

“Go back to your room.” Someone chased her away. Before the door to room number ten closed, she vaguely saw the nurses pinning him down on the hospital bed, with his wrists and ankles bound securely.

He did not show up the following day, or the day after that. Her room was no longer frigid, but every time she lay down on the bed, she wondered how he was doing. Was he still in pain? Was he still cold? Was he lonely?

She got up again. She grabbed the little white and red snowman plushie in her hand, then walked out. It was midnight. She knocked on the door of room number ten.

There was no response. She knocked again. Then again. There was a gentle noise within, letting her know that the boy was still present. But he did not open the door or answer. She placed the snowman in the aisle and murmured:

“I'll give you this plushie. If it hurts too much, just hug it, okay? Warm Snowman will help you overcome the pain and cold.”

After that, she dashed back to her room. She kept the door open, at times peeping out to check if he had accepted the gift. A long time later, when her legs started to get weary and her eyelids heavy, she caught the door to the adjacent room open. A pale arm grabbed Warm Snowman and brought him inside.

She grinned with delight. That night, she had quite a good sleep.

One day, she caught him in a corner of the garden, where a lot of jasmine bloomed. He sat on the grass, gently reaching out to touch a branch. As soon as he saw its green hue covered by a thin layer of ice, he quickly withdrew his fingers.

That was when she decided to come forward and start a conversation.

"Hello there." She spoke a few words to introduce herself. He simply sat and listened, without commenting. The longer he remained silent, the more determined she became to get him to speak. "Do you like jasmine?"

He nodded. For some reason, he always felt attracted to those pure white flowers.

“I planted them.” She said with a look of pride that she could not hide on her face. “Since I first came here, I have helped the gardener cultivate a lot of flowers. I'm the best gardener here, they say.”

She laughed. He merely glanced at her, his face showing a little surprise.

“Hmm… May I ask the reason why you're staying here?” She could not suppress her curiosity any longer.

He glanced down at his hands, then quickly concealed them in the pocket of his thick coat.

“Let me guess…” Even if he did not say it, she had a general idea what was going on with him. “Is your illness related to the ice Evol?”

He nodded slightly.

“Hmmm… Then I don't know how to help you. I have a heart disease..." She pointed to where her heart was beating. “There's something in here… It makes me unwell…”

Both were silent for a long while. There were melodies from the birds in the dew-still morning garden. Finally, he spoke to her for the first time:

“Do you… wish to get better?”

“Hmm?” She tilted her head slightly. “What a strange question! Of course, nobody wants to be sick... It would be great if we could live healthy and happy for the rest of our lives..."

"…Understood." He whispered. The tranquility of the garden was broken by the nurse's call to him. Before departing, he gazed back at her and said:

“My name… is Zayne.”

Since then, she became a friend of Zayne’s. The two often ran out to play in the garden, where they handily assisted the gardener in caring for the plants. Zayne had opened up more, at least to her. Soon, summer came, bringing with it an abundance of wildflowers that blanketed the plains around Elysium's garden. They both sat there enjoying the brisk air.

She made him a wreath from plants and flowers, said:

“Zayne, please lower your head a bit.”

Even when seated, he appeared considerably larger than her. Zayne bended slightly so she could lay a colorful garland on his jet black hair. He stated:

“Flowers each have their own meaning. Do you know?"

Daisies represented friendship, simple delight, and good wishes.

Queen Anne's Laces represented calm and sanctuary.

Jasmine represented pure and devoted love.

Zayne weaved her one out of solely white jasmine. He put it on her hair. The afternoon wind carried the fragrance of flowers and grass. He shared with her his future plan:

“In the future, I will become a doctor.”

“Like your father?”

"No." Zayne halted for some time before continuing. “I will be better than that. I will be able to cure other people's ailments... To cure yours."

“What about you? Zayne is also unwell, right?” She persisted in her naïve inquiry.

Zayne glanced at her, the corners of his lips curled slightly. She realized he was smiling.

"You come first."

At last, Zayne's wish came true. Even if it separated him from her for a considerable amount of time.

Room number ten had been vacant since Zayne's departure. He passed through the grand gate of Elysium, and like every other friend who had left before, she was afraid he too, would not come back.

Ever since she met him, she started to fear staying here all alone. Forever.

Even though he lived so far away, he sent her flowers every week. Every time the gardener came to see her, she always brought a bouquet of fresh flowers and announced so loudly: "Flowers for the young lady in room number nine!" which made the girl giggle a lot. She created new garlands from his gifts. She knew all too well that he was trying his best, to become the best, so he could heal her; yet, she hoped he would first cure himself.

Many years had passed, and when they met again, he was Doctor Zayne from Akso Hospital.

He was considerably taller than she had imagined a boy would be. But she would recognize him immediately no matter where he was or what the circumstances were. She would recognize the brilliant eyes but always glanced down in such a humble manner. She would recognize the scarred hand that she once held dearly like it was a life of her own every time his Evol got out of control. She would realize that his eyes always searched for her the moment he entered the room; and then when he found her, the corners of his lips would expand into a delicate grin.

He accompanied her on another stroll around the Elysium campus, stopping to admire the jasmine bushes and greet the gardener. He sat calmly, listening to her fascinating stories about the other patients here after he had left. She remembered each and every one of them, since after many years of calling this place home, she had learnt how to care for ill children like herself. And she told him, how much she was missing the friend in room number ten!

As the day gradually ended, Zayne held out a bag of jasmine seeds in front of her. He said:

“This is for you. Please help me plant a lot in the garden, okay? When you completely recover from your illness, they will bloom in time to congratulate you."

"Yes. I'll plant— Oh wait..." She came to a quick halt as she realized what Zayne was implying. “You said, when I completely recover?”

Zayne smiled. He looked much fresher than she could remember.

“Yes. You shall be cured. I have found a method for your condition.”

She was so ecstatic that she nearly sprang up and spilled the seeds.

On the day of her operation, Zayne clutched her hand tightly outside the operating room. He reassured her:

“You will be okay. You will recover. Once you're healed, live well like the way you've always wanted, okay?"

She felt no fear at all, since his warm touch had always kept her safe.

“When I get better,” she said. “I want to weave a wreath with Zayne. I want to get out of here and start a new life… Zayne… Do you wish to come with me?”

Zayne did not respond right away, instead staring at her in silence for a while. So long. With tenderness he bent down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“When you wake up, I will always be here waiting for you.”

She awoke in a modest, familiar room. A tap on the door outside , and a few seconds later, the gardener's face appeared.

“Flowers for the young lady in room nine.”

She smiled and took the bouquet of fresh flowers from her hands. The jasmine flowers welcomed her with a fragrant hug.

“Are they from the seeds I planted?”

"They are." The gardener spoke while sitting in a neighboring chair. “But how are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Tomorrow I can leave Elysium right away! But… have you seen Zayne?”

“Zayne?” The gardener's expression conveyed astonishment and dismay. The girl asked again:

"Yes. Zayne? I haven't seen him since after the surgery."

“They haven't told you anything, have they?”

The gardener's concerned demeanor scared her. “What happened to him?”

The gardener remained silent for a minute, as if she was deciding which words she should say to the girl.

“Zayne… is gone. He is no longer here.”

“No longer in Elysium? Where did he go? If I travel to Akso Hospital, can I see him again?”

The gardener swiftly grasped her hand. Her voice was quiet and tearful:

“They hid it from you, poor girl. But since you're better now, maybe I should tell you the truth, so you can move on with your life..."

Zayne never returned to Elysium.

He was dead.

After finishing his studies and becoming the youngest Chief of the Cardiology Department at Akso Hospital, Zayne threw himself into researching ways to treat special hearts such as the one in her chest. Since her protocore contained too much power, it drained her heart and damaged her health. For a long time, there was no cure for this kind of ailment. Being transferred to Elysium was simply an attempt for her to spend her very last days in peace.

Zayne did everything to save her. He succeeded. But the price was too great, for both the girl and him.

After years of traveling around the world searching for a cure for her,he overlooked his own issue. When he realized the consequences, it was a little too late. Zayne accepted everything and had it all planned out well in advance, before his time came.

One day, they discovered him collapsed over his desk. The body, frozen. Icy. The warmth was drained by the ice flower blooming in the middle of his chest. In his hand still a bag of seeds with her name on.

After many years of research, he had found a way to cure her and it was also his will.

He never returned to Elysium. Yet his heart did. It was pounding in her chest, reminding her of all the good old days spent with him, telling her that he forever stayed. With her.

Nobody knew how she got over this loss, only that she lingered in room ten for several days. Zayne had never come back. She never saw him again. The days leading up to her operation were a dream. An illusion. Had she gone mad? Yet everything seemed so real! His voice, his warm embrace, his steady hand and his tender kiss… Why did everyone tell her it was not real? He was no longer real?

Perhaps; him, this room, the jasmine garden, and Elysium, they all existed only in her head.

“Poor girl, stop wasting your time here. Zayne gave you his heart so you might begin a new life, but you instead chose to slowly let it die here?”

The gardener's words echoed in the empty room, jolting her awake from her unending nightmares. She was hurt, severely, as if someone had carved a large hole in her chest that could not be filled. Yet they also put in that Zayne's strong heart, it helped her regain control of her power, it gave her another reason to live on.

“I'm sorry… I just… I just don't want to leave the place where he once existed…”

Elysium was a place filled with memories of her and Zayne. She wished not to step out of that gate. She wished not to start a new life without him.

She made her own decision. She would fulfill Zayne's wish, as well as hers.

Many physicians concluded that, while her body had recovered, her mind was still not stable. Others saw her as insane. Perhaps so; she would embrace the notion that she was insane, if it meant she could find him in all the things she did day by day in this place.

She saw him in the early morning, when she was the only one awake in Elysium, bare feet gliding across the grass to the jasmine garden and realized how long he had been there. She saw him standing in the middle of a group of children holding hands, forming a bustling circle of laughter. She saw him in every wreath of wildflowers she weaved, every plushie she placed in front of the children's rooms. She saw him sharing a nice cup of afternoon tea with the gardener. She saw him, in every breath she drew.

Room number ten greeted a new patient, a boy quite similar to him from the past. She was no longer in room number nine but had transferred to the staff area. She was then a trainee nurse and gardener. The children treated her with tremendous fondness. She was in charge of both children in rooms nine and ten. One day, she caught the girl in room number nine saying this to the boy in the adjacent room:

“If you're in pain, hold onto this snowman, okay? My nurse gave this plushie to me. She said that if I hugged it, I would feel less pain."

Her eyes stung as she watched the two children holding hands, walking back to their rooms. Perhaps she caught Zayne's familiar figure walking right beside them. Then, with a turn of his head, he sent his warm smile at her.

Author's notes:

The original plot of this story came to me after getting the flower wreath from Zayne's Promise. It was a soft romance between a young master and his little gardener. Somehow, it turned out to be the story you've just read.

Elysium is a place related closely to Akso Hospital. It's where patients with special cases (mostly untreatable) are sent to so that they can leave this world in peace. Elysium sounds a lot like "asylum", which was also my first intention to make the fic darker. But I like the way it turned out to be.

Since Foreseer myths mentions countless of jasmine blooms represents countless lives of Zayne and MC, it would be nice to consider this "Elysium" life to be one of those too.

Was this real, or was this all in MC's head? I shall leave it to my dear readers to decide.

Thank you so much for your support <3