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deepspace-scenarios · 14 days ago

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[scenario/drabble] Resonance and first-aid

Summary: LIs react when they accidentally injure you during orbital trials- you brush it off, but you soon realise it makes them confront fears and their past. (All ends well, just with some fretting and worrying because the LIs have a very soft spot for you</3)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of injury (non-graphic), vague references to myths.

SYLUS

Most of the time, resonance is easy to achieve with Sylus. The familiar surge of energy ripples through you, and a powerful wave rushes towards the charging Wanderer.

And then something hits. You feel yourself getting knocked back several feet, a feeling of burning, twisting pain coursing through you. It's not even the ball of energy itself- just tendrils of black and red, gone astray.

The Wanderer dissolves into embers, its skeletal wings crumbling to ash. Sylus dusts off his hands, the red-black mist fading from his fingertips- until he sees you wince while sheathing your sword.

"Let me see." His voice is almost unnervingly calm, devoid of his typical casual smugness after victory.

You press a hand to the darkening bruise at your waist. "Just a bruise. Some ointment can fix it."

His fingers twitch. For a man who thrives on control, the mistake is unacceptable.

"Sylus," you murmur, catching his wrist. "It’s fine."

His jaw clenches. Somewhere in his ancient, draconic memories, he was doomed with a fate where his lover would be far from fine.

You pry open his closed fist and kiss his palm, breaking the spiral. "I won't get upset over a small accident. And you can patch me up, handsome.”

He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose,

“Kitten,”

You decide to tease him- surely a little distraction wouldn't hurt. “Besides… it's not the first time you've left bruises on my skin."

His laugh is rough, but he pulls you close, his touch too gentle.

“I only take pleasure when I leave marks on you intentionally,” he murmurs, his hand trailing down your arm and settling on your elbow. “I hate the very idea of causing you pain,”

His gaze burns with an intense mix of raw, unfiltered pain- something that runs deeper than his strength and power. You reach up to stroke his cheek in consolation, eliciting a soft exhale from him as he leans into your touch.

“At least now I know how powerful your Evol is during battle,” you say with a small smile.

“Is this… your coping mechanism, sweetie? You've been doing nothing but flirting with me,” He asks dryly.

“I'm showing you there's no need to blame yourse- agh!”

Your world tilts as he sweeps you into his arms, carrying you. Mist swirls into a thick cloak, and you're back at his home in a blink.

He doesn't let you lift a single finger until he's sure your condition is stable, and until your bruise is dressed with sterile gauze above a thick layer of ointment.

“I called in sick for you,” he announces as he joins you under the covers, his warmth seeping into the shared space instantly. “You're not leaving until you're in a better condition,”

“Or what? You're gonna tie me to the bed?”

“You sound too excited for that sort of thing, kitten.”

Little did you know, he's already cleared his entire night's schedule to watch over you as you rest, the weight in his chest lifting ever so slightly when he witnesses you sleeping peacefully until the first light of dawn filters through the curtains.

_____

ZAYNE

The Wanderer’s firey breath comes from behind- Zayne reacts instantly, ice erupting in a shield. But the frost spreads, searing your back with cold. Your knees almost buckle, but you force yourself to turn and grab Zayne to resonate with him- the Wanderer dissipates, splintering into embers in the air.

Before you can fall, Zayne catches you.

"Don’t move," he orders. His usual clinical tone is too sharp, his breaths too measured.

You know why. The nightmares where he loses control- where you freeze under his hands.

"Zayne," you say softly, reaching for his hand. "Look at me, love. I’m here. I'm not going anywhere."

His fingers tremble.

"I know," he grits out, then steadies himself with another measured inhale-exhale. “Let me inspect the injury,”

You recognise this Zayne- right now, he's a combat medic, moving almost with tunnel vision to assess, diagnose and treat. You tug at the zipper of your gear, trying to shrug off the material to let him access the wound properly.

His hands stop you, “Don't make unnecessary movements. Allow me to do it instead,”

You nod, feeling your cheeks grow warm as the fabric is removed - then draped modestly across your front again.

"Minor second-degree," he mutters, noting the reddened areas with faint swelling. "No necrosis. Fortunate.”

Once he rushes you home, he fills a basin with lukewarm water and adds a mild antiseptic before dabbing at the wound. You tense from the sensation, and Zayne pauses.

“On a scale of one to ten, how badly does it hurt?” He asks, voice almost stern.

You gnaw at your lip, knowing not to hide your pain from him. It'll only deepen his guilt.

So you ramble, trying to be a compliant patient for him. “Maybe… about six? Six point five? But keep going, I don't think I'll deteriorate. The antiseptic feels strange- prickly, but nothing too bad.”

He exhales quietly behind you, and you feel the warm, damp cotton dab lightly onto your skin again.

He's never talkative, but the silence is heavy with a dense web of tangled emotions that had you scrambling for ways to lessen the weight on Zayne's shoulders.

“Dr. Zayne? I have a question.” You begin.

His hand pauses yet again, but he quickly recovers. “Hm?”

“Will it be safe for me to give hugs after this treatment?”

You hear him swallow audibly, and he lets out a short sigh- the kind that's stuck between exasperation and amusement.

“If you move slowly and take extra care, then yes, you may. But cease any movement that causes the slightest discomfort,”

He bandages you like you’re glass.

Later on, you hug him, long enough to feel the tension ease just the slightest.

Nothing verbal can comfort him right now- no reassurances, no saccharine words- you know it all just gets pushed aside by the persistent, haunting nightmares that he has.

He doesn't move, doesn't try to reject the hug- and you know this is him telling you how much he needs this. So you wait, with your arms wrapped around his torso and your face pressed to his chest.

Seconds turn into minutes- then you feel the gentle, hesitant presence of his hand as he cradles the back of your head gingerly. You hug him tighter.

Your warmth and your heartbeat is enough to let him know- you're safe, and this is not a dream, and that you love him all the same.

_____

RAFAYEL

Your shoulder burns where Rafayel’s dagger grazes you- a misaimed throw meant for the Wanderer. The pain gets masked by adrenaline, but you can feel the difference when you move.

Rafayel doesn't notice the sluggishness in your movements just yet, the way you push yourself to keep up with him, hiding the crimson of your clothes within the chaotic blur of battle.

His dance is deadly and alluring, with flashes of his blade and twisting flames sending the Wanderer hurtling backwards.

It is only after the Wanderer bursts into fragments of ash and lingering crackles of energy, when he gasps.

"Don’t-" He’s there in an instant, hands hovering. No theatrics. No jokes. Just agitation.

You’ve never seen him like this.

"Raf, it’s just an accident-"

"No." His voice cracks. Eight hundred years ago, he inflicted a fatal wound- one he has never forgiven himself for.

He doesn't speak the entire way home, and dresses the cut with uncharacteristic silence, his fingers lingering as you sit and watch him work.

"You’re never, ever allowed to bleed for me again," he whispers when he's done, kneeling in front of you on the sofa like he's praying for forgiveness.

You cup his face, looking into his eyes- blue, pink, purple- flooded with an intense guilt that has you lost in the melacholy depths until you're blinking back tears yourself.

"Hey, accidents happen," You say softly, "-and I'm fine. So stop looking so guilty, fishie."

His laugh is watery, but he kisses your palm- like he’s reminding himself you’re real, and safe.

“C'mon, Raf. Please?” You ask, unsure of what you're requesting- for him to look less devastated? For him to trust you as his bodyguard?

He makes a muffled noise, avoiding your gaze now. “I hurt you, and I can't even hug you now because that's gonna make you bleed-”

You poke his cheek, hoping it draws him out from his gloomy state.

“Just because you're my bodyguard doesn't mean you can endanger yourself,” he pouts, gently taking your hands and moving them to his chest.

He lets out a shaky sigh. “Just- stay with me for a while longer.”

Later, he maneuvers you until your legs are draped sideways across his lap, and he holds you like the dearest treasure he's ever found.

(He tells you that your bodyguard duties are off for the next two months. “You're just my cutie now, Miss Bodyguard can go hibernate,” he declares.)

_____

XAVIER

Xavier’s sword swings wide as he leaps to deliver the finishing blow. There's a rare misjudgment- and it nicks your calf.

He moves in a blur, and returns to your side before the remnants of the Wanderer disappear.

"We're going to the clinic," he says, sheathing his blade. Before you can protest, he’s lifting you into his arms.

"Xavier! I can walk-"

"Apologies aren't genuine without action," His grip tightens as he looks down at you, his eyes carrying the depth of stars lost to supernovas, and a rawness so far from his usual tenderness and calm that makes your breath stutter.

At your embarrassed squirming, his brows crease. "Are you rejecting my apology?"

You huff, thinking of showing up at the Hunter's clinic in his arms. "No- you’ll- you might get tired."

He holds you with soft desperation, careful yet with a grip tight like he fears you would slip between his fingers like stardust.

"My dear partner, this is the least I can do,” he says, voice wavering. “Now hold tight, we're taking a shortcut-”

Once your wound is dressed at the clinic and you are tucked into bed- he finally, finally allows himself to unravel and apologize to you, over and over again in hushed whispers.

He only stops when you press your lips to his, his eyes widening before he embraces you, exhaling a shaky breath.

His arms remain around you until you two fall asleep, with the moon bearing witness to his silent promise of everlasting protection over you.

______

CALEB

Caleb's gun kicks back harder than expected after resonating, and he slams into you.

You throw your arm out instinctively to break the fall, but the impact still sends you both crashing to the ground.

There's a tearing pain in your shoulder, and your breath is knocked straight out of you upon impact, leaving you dazed as you watch the crumbling Wanderer scatter in the wind.

"Oh, shit," Caleb's up instantly, scanning for injuries. "You alright, pips?"

You shift, forcing yourself to sit up despite the burn in your shoulder. "Just a strain.”

But he sees the way you wince, and his jaw is set. The man who vowed you’d always be safe at his side just failed.

"Caleb," you sigh, moving to pick up your weapon. “I'm fine, I swear,”

Caleb stops you, an arm hooking around your waist from behind as he makes the weapon float back to you instead.

"Major threat was eliminated. We're safe." You protest at his sudden surge of protectiveness, catching the gun.

His laugh is rough, frayed with a sort of mirthless desperation that wrenches through you harder than moving your injured shoulder.

“We're safe,” he begins, echoing you, “but you're staying with me to get your injury checked.”

Later, he sits you on the kitchen stool to inspect the injury with meticulous precision.

“Don't bite your lips so hard,” he orders, stopping his inspection and handing you a few unwrapped Hi-Chew candies of all things. “Have these instead,”

You hum, popping the tiny eraser-shaped candies into your mouth and letting the fruity, chewy sweetness dull the pain.

When Caleb puts anti-inflammatory cream on your shoulders, you feel his touch linger.

"I'll do better next time. I'm not letting anything hurt you, Pips. And don't even think about doing any work- you'll be resting under my watch this week.”

Note: Pls protect Zayne and Rafayel poor bbs going through all that in the recnt updates make me so :(((( i love them ALSO this piece was inspired by an ask from an anon reader. thanks for reading <333

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