liyasbubblespace

[liyasbubblespace]

This part is so stinking cute, I'm highkey obsessed with it

Sylus is really letting his territorial dragon out here. No one can touch the flower crown he got from his wife, not even a lil butterfly 😭💗

He looks so annoyed when the little fella lands on the flower crown, and you can see how he brings it closer to himself after he's shooed the poor guy away jfhfhfhh he's literally a dragon guarding his treasure 💖💖

[liyasbubblespace]

Sylus: dragon's curse and connection with the Wanderers

This theory has been on my mind for the last few days. But. Before we get to the theory itself, we need to discuss and clarify some moments. And let's start with the first point.

1. Philos — future Earth.

And this is not even a theory, it is words from the game.

*picture 1. Xavier's anecdote: when shooting stars falls.

*picture 2. Xavier's myth: shooting stars.

This is not another planet to which people have moved, this is still the same Earth, with a core that people made simply so that the planet wouldn't die completely. And from here follows the second key point.

2. Humans becoming a Wanderers

We can also get this information from Zayne's anecdotes

*Zayne's anecdote: still in dark

We conclude that the protocores affect people and turn them into a Wanderers, apparently not immediately, but over time. This can be compared to how radiation affects people. All that is needed for this is close contact with the protocores.

3. Earth's core

Now we have found out that the core of the planet is now human-made and the logical question is: what did they use for this? And here I have my own theory on this matter.

If we take the present time in the story, we know that the protocores are used in various industries because of their energy. But we have one specific core that comes to mind and after the new details in the story and considering the descriptions from the anecdote... maybe yes. Aether core, maybe even modified, was used to keep the planet alive.

Or people created an artificial core, based on the prototype of the aether one, with the help of the Wanderers' protocores. There are many options. But the fact that people become Wanderers after they are 'fed' to the planet suggests that it is precisely the protocore.

And since even being at a distance (it isn't yet clear how large), and I don't think that the size of the planet's core will be small, then to one degree or another this affects all inhabitants of the former Earth, now Philos. So, perhaps, turning into Wanderers is a matter of time for all living.

4. Dragons became Wanderers

Dragons. We already have a race of mermaids, so dragons also existed and we met them. In the game. We even fought them in the SHC. Look.

But someone might say, "Hey, it says wyvern, not dragon." "A type of dragon," I'll tell you. Even the official video showed dragons with both two and four legs. So officially, these guys are dragons too. Just wanted to clarify that little detail.

The second moment to clarify is that the planet on which Sylus' myth takes place is the same Philos, which was previously Earth.

The thing is that the translators chose the worst possible word in the English version, which is why I was a little confused the first time I read the story. But as soon as I looked at the Chinese version, I realized that it was a pretty big mistake.

So the events are still happening on the same planet.

Given this, given that we have seen the Dragon-Wanderers, given the lifespan of dragons, it can be assumed that dragons were constantly under affect of the core and eventually lost their minds and became ordinary monsters that destroy everything in their path. A tragic fate for such majestic creatures.

5. Sylus is half dragon

Perhaps reading all this text you might think: "Are you saying that Sylus is a Wanderer?" No. He is a dragon. He can change his shape, which Wanderers cannot, and some things like official merch and words from the myth confirm this.

All these dragon images are what Sylus looks like. And in the main story we remember that girl who described him with horns, tail, wings (I forgot to put that in the image, sorry), so he was and still is a dragon. Half dragon.

6. Sylus in abyss

We know for sure that he was in the abyss for a very, very long time, but by dragon standards he is still young, by human standards, well... 1600 years is a great age.

But there another point. Look.

He's still a living creature that needs to feed to survive. And in the abyss, as we remember from the beginning of the story, there are Wanderers. And I suppose he could have been feeding on their protocores all these years. And the fact that we didn't see him eat doesn't mean it's not necessary at all. Maybe less often, but it's still necessary. Keep that thought in mind, we'll need it later.

7. Sylus' death

Looking at how exactly he was killed (with a sword to the heart), how exactly his body disintegrated reminded me of the moment from Zayne's anecdote. And even if we look at the gameplay, then Sylus' death is suspiciously similar to how the Wanderers disappear. And all this leads me to only one thought.

The dragon's curse doesn't exist. It is the result of the planet's core affects on living beings.

This whole text was an introduction to one single thought. As such, a classic curse like in some fairy tale, no. We saw Wanderers of different types and among them were deer and birds. Dragons were no exception. In fact, turning into this creature, which simply attacks everything around, can happen to anyone, both a person and an animal. Perhaps, a long time ago, dragons were intelligent creatures, but they were 'poisoned' by the core of Philos for a long time and eventually they went crazy. Sylus, being half a human (who fed on protocores and there were many Wanderers around who could attack and, possibly, also poison him), could also begin to lose his mind and at the end of the myth he almost lost it. But for a split second he was able to become himself and this saved his beloved. He believed that he was a monster destined to kill the person dearest to his heart, but this isn't fate, this isn't something inherent in his dragon nature, this is the consequences of people trying to save the planet, which ultimately destroys everyone.

As a child, he could see how dragons one after another lost their minds and could decide that it was a curse, because he had no other explanation. And considered himself a monster who would do the same.

It is not yet known what effect the Aether core has on people, but at this point. Could it slowly turn people into Wanderers? I don't know. But so far, in the present time, there has been no indication that Sylus is suffering from a 'curse' due to the core in his eye. That is why I don't think that was the main reason for his transformation in the myth. The environment, eating protocores, Wanderers around, that is what could have sped up the process of becoming a Wanderer for him at that time.

I don't know how best to finish, I'll just say that this is just a theory. I don't know how true it will be in the end, but I was interested in conducting such a small research. I hope you like it too. Forgive me if there are mistakes, my eyes just start to get tired from a large text.

[liyasbubblespace]

Everything is so sweet and romantic that I'm afraid that soon we may face pain and suffering🥲

[liyasbubblespace]

pre-relationship lads model!au with each li getting paired up with mc for either a photoshoot or a runway and just going absolutely crazy over seeing mc in her little dress and heels for the first time matching them like they are an actual couple.

[liyasbubblespace]

LADS MEN + ANESTHESIA

(2k) 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ sfw [17+] includes: talk of surgery though non-descript, under the influence of anesthesia, pitiful men, pathetic attempts at ass grabbing, possibly ooc. go easy on me, i've never written zayne or xav. we're trying.

SYLUS unfortunately does not handle anesthesia well.

he doesn't handle hospitals well, preferring to take care of any issues he has himself. he hasn’t stepped foot in a hospital in years but cannot take care of this problem himself, and he's mad about it. pissed. he’s dismissive of everything said unless it’s coming from you and you have to remind him on more than one occasion to be nice and to stop acting so childish. no biting the nurse's heads off, the doctors are just doing their jobs, etc. he’s a nightmare patient who is only amicable when you’re by his side. sylus is all bark and no bite, too big for the damn hospital bed as they roll him into surgery.

despite that, everything is going relatively smoothly. you kiss him before he leaves, glaring at him as he says, “if i die in there, wait for me. promise i’ll be back.”

he comes out of it immediately and starts yelling for his wife. you two are not married, but good to know where things are going.

he's the one that freaks out and security almost escorts you from the building. you try to calm him down but he’s beside himself. sylus is too big to be manhandled back into the bed, seemingly forgetting he’s hooked up to all these wires, and he refuses to speak to anyone but his wife. gritting his teeth, “where is she? what did you do with her?” you (the she in question) are standing right there, but there’s been a shift change and new nurses and they don’t recognize you and he starts yelling the moment you touch him, trying to get him to lay back down:

"i am married do NOT touch me. do not...don't touch. my wife will kill you. she will! don't touch me, where are the doctors? get her out of here, my wife...oh she's going to be so mad. you touched me, she's going to be so mad. I'm going to be in so much trouble."

it takes you leaving the room, standing awkwardly in the hall as people glance at the commotion, and walking back in for sylus to suddenly recognize you. he looks absolutely pitiful, relieved beyond thought at the sight of his wife finally, and you know he’s never, ever going to live this down. 

CALEB is relentless.

even under the, quite frankly, insane amount of anesthesia he had to be given before surgery, he’s still trying to do for you. caleb tries to give you his blanket because he’s cold (you are not, but the gesture is sweet.) he offers you his sad hospital food, insisting you need to eat and must be starving “y–you…love jello, pips” (you love jello as much as the next person.)

he tries to give you his only pillow and asks for water from the nurse for you as well. he gets mad there’s nothing you want to watch on the tv: how dare the hospital not have your favorite show. he ignores the doctors and glares at them as he scoots over to make room for you to lie down next to him, scoffing at the suggestion that something as vital as you being as close to him might not be the best idea right now.

“it’s in your best interest to let her lay down,” caleb says, eyelids heavy. the doctors eyes widen and you wince. “i’m paying for this hospital stay, correct? that’s what i thought, so this bed is mine, therefore it’s hers and if you don’t want her laying in bed with me, maybe invest in some more comfortable couches. not just a chair.”

it’s all very sweet, except through all of this his speech is slurred and he keeps nodding off in the middle of talking. it’s hard to take his harsh words and mean looks seriously. it makes his glaring at the doctors quite ineffective and when caleb’s finally brought the water, he doesn’t remember he asked for it for you, and drinks it all. his attempt at fluffing the pillow for you is nothing more than weakly punching it a few times, and he offers you the blanket by half-heartedly pushing it onto the ground before powering down like he’s been unplugged.

he only calms once you are in bed with him, sending apologetic glances at the nurses and doctors. telling him yes the water was great and yes, you’re very warm and content (he still has the entire blanket and you’re sweating actually. he runs so hot.) and yes the pillow is fine (you’re not even laying on the pillow.)

RAFAYEL is a runner.

he’s insistent, the moment his eyes open, that he’s ready to go home. pack everything up, give him his clothes—he’s not taking no for an answer. the hospital smells weird and he wants his own bed. these are the words of a man determined to be heard as if he’d have the ability to stand, let alone put on his pants. rafayel is halfway to unplugging himself from everything, scanning the room for his things, asking you for what you think are the car keys as if the way he’s slurring his words isn’t a great indicator of his ability to operate a motor vehicle right now and he’s an arguer. he’s pouting. he’s rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air, dramatically throwing himself against the pillows.

rafayel insists he’s fine enough to go to the bathroom himself: “if i can piss by myself, i can drive a car.”  his logic is flawed. you also say no when he mumbles from the bathroom, “can you come hold it? my dick while i piss?” which negates his previous logic and you do tell him that to which you get a pout and shoved out of the bathroom. 

rafayel is the type to look you in the eyes and half-consciously mumble something about, “i’m not trying to have domestic dispute in the hospital, are you? take me home.” you gently try to push him back into the bed, reminding him he’s in a hospital gown and his ass is out. you’re amazed at the large words he’s using, not so impressed with the way he’s trying to get out of the bed again. and again. you’re also not impressed with the way he’s swaying in place, telling the nurses with a pout that he’s fine. that you’re there to take care of him now so, “you’re dismissed, your services are no longer needed” and that if you’re not going to take him home, rafayel will just go get the car himself and pull it around. you love how overly confident he is, and it really is ideal that he’s so weak from the drugs that he’s easily overpowered.

it takes three nurses and a doctor and you raising a brow at him, pointing your finger and narrowing your eyes, for him to flop himself back down into the bed. he loses steam quickly after that, waking up later and not remembering a thing but you do remind him that he flashed his bare ass to the entire staff.

XAVIER concerns the doctors with how long it takes him to wake up.

he’s out like a light and wakes up after sleeping like the dead and sees you speaking to the doctor. he’s silent, he’s not yelling. he’s quite sound up there in his head despite the anesthesia but he doesn’t like that doctor or how close he’s standing to you or the doctor’s hand on your shoulder or the way the male nurse comes in to ask you something and while he’s the most level headed of them all, he still can’t help but say something. 

you and the staff seem really chummy, and who knows how long he’s been out. he finally clears his throat, both you and the doctor looking over. 

“leave.”

xavier glances between you and the doctor. you’re tired, you’ve been there since morning, and you give the doctor a clipped smile, thanking him and nodding, letting him know it’s fine, and you’ve got it from here. xavier’s eyes don’t leave the doctor until he’s out the door and for the next few hours, you are confined to the small sliver of hospital bed with him as he silently fumes that the doctor was trying to make a move on you while he was indisposed.

“you smiled at him,” he insists. “i don’t trust him. i’ll report him for medical malpractice.”

you take none of this personally, quickly reminding him being nice as a doctor is a good thing. you almost find humor in it, if xavier’s calm demeanor wasn’t somewhat unnerving after the second and third hour. you ask him if he’s in pain, he says no. you ask him if he wants to rest, he says no. you ask him if he needs anything, he says no. you realize too late that he’s doing everything to avoid the doctor coming back into the room. when he finally does, xavier speaks for himself. slowly, a bit stilted, but he’s impressive with his lucidity. tightening his arms around you and asking for the door to be shut this time when you two are left alone. 

“i’ll sleep when we’re back home.”

safe to say he manages to pull it together well enough to be discharged as soon as possible, and once you’re home, he drops the act, turns into a bit of a baby, and passes out to sleep again.

ZAYNE is 100% handsy.

he’s a doctor, he knows what he’s getting into and what’s going on when he wakes up. he wasn’t worried before, he’s not worried now and you’re actually the one that’s been stressed this entire time. zayne has the wherewithal to understand he’s stuck for a bit in this room, and while his can you hand me that water? is genuine, he narrows his eyes as you walk past him and reaches a limp hand out to grab your ass. you turn around, startled, and he shrugs. he has the drugs as an excuse, not that zayne doesn’t appreciate your ass on the regular, he just has an excuse now to grope you in the hospital bed which, let’s be real, he’s kind of into. not the whole him-in-the-bed situation, or you in the bed if the roles were reversed but, well. the thought of you as a hot nurse does cross his mind. he might not remember this later, but his defenses are down, and he won’t blame himself.

“lay in the bed with me,” zayne mumbles, eyes closed. “c’mon.”

you remind him that’s not the best idea, he’s a doctor, and he should know this but he frowns and opens an eye. it’s endearing, this side of him, and you know what’s coming before you even lay down. zayne’s hand falls from the bed, grabbing your ass again as you slowly try to crawl into the bed with him. the doctors come in, and zayne is dismissive, spouting off responses to their questions with his eyes closed as if this is all a walk in the park as he feels you up still under the blanket. a handful off your ass is squeezed every time he has to answer another annoying question.

you whisper, reminding him that he’s not being the best patient right now, and zayne scoffs, seemingly letting the anesthesia work its magic on his limbs and lack of filter:

“i’m lying in bed resting, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“stress is not good for recovery.” another squeeze. “don’t stress me out.”

you relay all of this to him after he’s fully conscious, even slipping in his mumbles talk of you as a hot nurse he’d let slip while asleep, and he blinks. there’s a slight blush, but he does not deny or condemn his own actions. like he said, he won’t blame himself.

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 232.161.195 161.178.232

[liyasbubblespace]

Surprise, Surprise

Tiny little drabble of Sylus based on a random text convo where he’s like “yeah, lol, ppl are attacking the base rn baby”. he’s my babygirl and I’m literally obsessed with him etc etc. no content warnings, just fluff

~

There are strange noises coming from the other side of the house. It makes your brows furrow, uncertainty making you pause in the grand foyer. It’s in your nature as a hunter to  investigate, to take initiative and listen to your gut. Your hand drifts down to your Harrier 700, lightly thumbing at the holster. 

But you’re tired. This week hadn’t just dug its fangs into you, it had nearly ripped bloody chunks from your body. Literally. An entire pack of Elysian Lupus had been giving you pain since Sunday— and these were smart little shits because they somehow knew to run away while other Wanderers attacked civilians. You had taken a grim kind of pleasure in finally destroying the last one. 

So instead of unholstering your very illegal, very dangerous gun, you pluck your phone from your pocket and open up your contacts. 

Sylus picks up after a ring and a half— practically late for him. “To what do I owe this pleasure, sweetie? It’s rather early for you to be calling.”

“Captain Jenna gave me the day off,” you can’t help but brag. “Due to my excellence in the field and all that. I was going to surprise you.”

“Were you?” Sylus hums. There are more sounds on the other side of the line, further cementing your belief that something is happening. “What changed?”

“There are weird sounds coming from somewhere. Is something going on?”

“Oh, nothing much.” There is something like a pained grunt that reaches your ears, but it’s not Sylus’s so you keep waiting. “The base is just under attack.”

Your chest tightens, your hand gripping the handle of your gun. It takes a couple seconds, but your knee-jerk compulsion to charge to Sylus’s side subsides. Whatever is going on, Sylus doesn’t sound all that worried about it. If anything, there is a bit of laughter bleeding through his voice. Luke and Kieran are more than likely next to him as well, as they were the ones you texted to ensure that Sylus was even home for your surprise. Not to mention the seemingly endless supply of personal weapons Sylus could use if he decided his fists weren’t enough. Whatever idiot decided to attack Sylus on his turf— in his own house— deserved what was coming to them. The muscles that had tensed without your realization slowly relaxed. 

“Do you need any help?” you ask, just to be sure. 

“Not unless you want to play with any of the mice, kitten.” Sylus chuckles at his own joke. Once again, you think to yourself that he really is lucky that he is the most attractive man alive. Those words in anyone else’s mouth would have made you hang up. 

“I’ll just wait for you to finish. I’ve done enough playing this week,” you tell him, squatting down to unlace your boots. 

“Ah yes,” Sylus purrs. “My exemplary hunter has worked so hard this week.”

“Those stupid mutts,” you complain as you toe off your shoes, feet aching pleasantly against the cool tile flooring. Driving here by bike has not helped the soreness of your body, but you’re hoping the long weekend here will heal you. “Did you see them, Sylus? They were playing with me.”

“Yes, I did. How very cruel of them to doge Miss Hunter. How silly of them to want to stay alive.”

“It was,” you reply, padding down the massive halls. “They targeted other Fluxes on purpose, Sylus. I know they knew I couldn’t chase them if I had other problems on my hands.” You poke your head around a corner. “Where are you at, by the way?”

“Near the grounds. They thought they could weasel their way in under the fence. Oh, look Kieran. They finally brought out their guns.”

True to his word, you hear the echo of gunshots both through the phone and from the air around you. Luckily, the grounds are a far way off from Sylus’s bedroom, so your original plan is still intact. You continue to walk. 

“Keep those away from me,” you order. “I’m too tired to dodge anything.”

“They won’t make it through the walls, sweetie. They’re reinforced.”

Despite his words, the sound of gunfire abruptly cuts off. 

“Perfect. Who are they anyway?”

“Who knows,” Sylus sounds deeply uninterested in the answer. “I don’t keep track of small fry.”

“Yes you do. I bet you let them attack. Were you getting bored, Sylus?”

Sylus laughs, low and pleased. It makes you smile. “Well, if I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t be entertaining other guests today.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. And now you’re surprised and happy that I’m here.”

“Am I?”

Your hand pauses on the door handle of his bedroom. It was presumptuous to show up to his house, to invite yourself in. But you had rather gotten the impression that he wanted you to be presumptuous. Unless you read it wrong and now you look like an asshole. “Are you?” 

There’s a slight pause before Sylus’s voice comes back through the phone, sounding even warmer than before. “I’m very happy. So happy I’ve grown bored of my other guests and aren’t letting them play as long as I scheduled. I’ve even asked the chef to come back in for the weekend.” 

There’s a glow of delight pressing on the inside of your chest, coiling around your heart. You open the door to Sylus’s room and go even further by opening the door to his closet. “Mm, good.”

“What’s that rustling I’m hearing?” 

“I’m in your closet,” you inform him as you run your fingers over the clothes in consideration. “I didn’t want to carry anything on the bike and I figured you’d have anything I needed.”

“I do,” he says, a satisfied inflection in his tone. “And if there’s anything I don’t have, I’ll get it.”

A smile pulls at your lips, the pleased feeling in your chest swelling again. “I know,” you reply, feeling impossibly fond. You pick out a shirt of his that you like, one of his casual sweaters that you’ve seen him wear more than a singular time, and walk out. 

“What are your plans for our weekend?”

“Nothing really.” You put him on speaker before placing your phone on his nightstand to change. “I figured we could sleep, actually, since it’s around the time that you usually go to bed. I could use a really long nap after this week.” You leave your bike clothes on the floor in a heap and your gun in the holster on the nightstand. You’ll fix them later. You’re sore and tired and bundled up in Sylus’s sweater in front of the comfiest bed known to man. You’re not folding those things. 

Before crawling under his duvet, you pull your phone off the nightstand. Speakerphone is loud enough to catch the intake of breath from the other side. 

“Kitten…. are you in my bed?”

“Mhm,” you reply, arranging the pillows as you like them. “You don’t have to rush what you’re doing. I told you I’d wait.”

There is a moment of silence before Sylus says a simple, even, “I’ll be there in a moment,” before hanging up.

Bemused, you toss your phone back onto the nightstand and pull the duvet up to your chin. The bed is so wonderfully comfortable, you feel your weary muscles sink into the plush beauty of it. 

You don’t do anything more than rest your eyes for a few moments before the door is opening. It’s telling that your hand doesn’t even twitch towards your gun, that your eyes only crack open to greet him. Sylus would never let someone into a room where you were resting. 

Sylus strides in, hardly stopping for the half a second it takes to close the door behind him. You don’t have the time to say anything before he is on the bed, pulling you to his chest. 

“Hi,” you breathe. He’s on top of the blankets, making it a slight struggle to pull your arms out from under them to hold him in return. Despite having just been in a gunfight, his clothes are pristine and his skin is free from any sweat. There’s the faint smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body. You press your face into his neck to inhale all of it. 

“When you said you would wait,” he starts, hands smoothing back and forth over your spine, his low voice rumbling through his chest to yours, “I didn’t imagine it would be in my bed. In my clothes.” 

You try to pull back to look at him, put his hand pushed your face back into your neck. “Don’t. Stay right here.”

“Sorry,” you whisper back. Should you have asked before getting in his bed? He doesn’t seem to be mad at all, so maybe not? “You didn’t have to leave because of me.”

“Don’t apologize either.” He squeezes you closer, the thick duvet squished flat between the two of you. “I am… very happy. I am happier here than I was out there. Luke and Kieran will handle the rest.”

“Okay,” you mumble, lips brushing his skin. “I— I’m happy too. That you’re here now. I wanted to see you.”

“You should have said so.”

You scoff. “It was obvious. Why else would I be here?”

Sylus hums. “To arrest me, perhaps? That would be fun.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” you say darkly. You don’t think you could stomach even pretending to arrest Sylus. You shift around trying to pull some slack from the part of the duvet trapped under Sylus’s hulking body. “Get ready for bed so you can get under the blanket with me.”

A soft kiss is pressed to the top of your forehead. “Alright. Stay here.”

You turn over to watch him as he walks into his closet. He emerges fairly quickly after, just in a pair of pajama pants. You catch a glimpse of a pile on the floor of his closet before he shuts the door. 

As he makes his way back, you peel back the blanket from his side, inviting him in. Once he lays down, he pulls you to him again, hitching your leg over his thigh and sliding his arm under your pillow. You shift, settling into the position, wrapping your arm back around him. He leans in so that your nose brushes his. 

“I might insist that you do this every weekend,” he murmurs, eyes locked with yours. 

“I might let you,” you say back.

Sylus sighs, pushing your head into his neck again, his nose in your hair now. “Your answer had better be the same when you’re no longer tired.”

“We’ll see.”

When your eyes start to drift closed, he says quietly, “It was a good surprise.”

You smile into the skin of his neck.

[liyasbubblespace]

pit-a-pat | zayne

synopsis : He was never really yours. Not when she existed.

content : ANGST, zayne x non-mc!reader, some cannon some non-cannon, doctor zayne (a dash of sylus x reader)

writer’s note : The girl mentioned in the story is supposed to be MC from the game but let’s pretend she isn’t :)

It started beautifully.

Not with fireworks or declarations, but with something quieter—something softer.

You met Zayne on a Tuesday. The skies were overcast, and the campus café was packed with students trying to squeeze in one last coffee before the end-of-term chaos. You had just picked up your order, arms full of books and notes and a half-finished thought buzzing in your mind, when you turned too quickly and collided with someone.

The impact jolted through you. Your books scattered, your pen rolled under a chair, and your coffee splashed onto your sleeve. You let out a soft curse under your breath, flustered, apologizing before you even looked up.

Then a hand reached down, brushing against yours.

“I’m sorry,” came a low voice.

You looked up.

And that was the first time you saw him.

Zayne.

Tall, composed, sharp around the edges but inexplicably gentle in the way he moved. His eyes—hazel green, clear and steady—met yours like they already knew you. Like they had always known you.

He picked up your pen, handed it to you.

“I owe you a coffee,” he said. “Let me make it up to you.”

You smiled. Gave him your number.

The rest unfolded the way falling does—slow, weightless, inevitable.

There were no grand gestures. No overly rehearsed first dates. You didn’t even realize you were falling in love with him until you already had. He was simply there, steady and quiet and comforting in a way the world rarely is.

He never raised his voice. Never made you feel like you had to be more or less than exactly who you were. He wasn’t perfect—he kept things to himself, and his silences could stretch into days—but you loved him all the same. You told yourself it was enough. That love was never about loudness, but about staying.

And Zayne stayed.

For eight years.

You stood beside him through every sleepless night of his internship, through every heartbreak he brought home from the hospital. You held his hand when he was promoted, when he won awards, when the weight of lives saved and lost pressed too heavily against his shoulders.

You built a quiet life together. Shared takeout containers and cold pillows. Lazy Sunday mornings and long nights where your laptop glowed across the room as he dozed off beside you in his scrubs.

You became a writer, the kind with notebooks full of fictional heartbreaks, never quite knowing you were walking toward your own.

And you thought—foolishly, recklessly—that he was your ending.

That one day, you would wear white, and he would wait for you at the altar, hands trembling, heart full.

But some love stories are not meant to be lived. Only written.

—•

You stood outside his office now.

Your hand clutched his notebook, the one he left behind this morning in his rush to get to the hospital. His keys jangled faintly against your palm. You had texted, but he hadn’t responded. It wasn’t unusual. He got busy.

You told yourself that.

But the dread sitting in your chest was new.

The door to his office was slightly ajar. You stepped closer without thinking, intending only to knock—just knock, hand the things over, and leave.

But then, you heard his voice.

Low. Familiar. But not like you’d ever heard it before.

“I did this all… for you.”

Your body went still.

Inside, Zayne was standing with a girl you didn’t recognize—not at first. She was smaller than you, delicate. Her eyes were wide and wet. Zayne’s hand hovered just beside her cheek, and his other gripped her forearm like she was something slipping from his grasp.

“I planned this. To be your physician. To work here. Just so I could see you.”

The world tilted.

A cold, sharp pressure settled in your chest, and your fingers loosened. The keys dropped first, hitting the floor with a sound that sliced through the silence. His notebook followed, landing with a dull thud on the waiting chair beside the door.

Both of them turned.

She looked at you with startled recognition.

Zayne’s eyes locked onto yours. And in that instant, everything changed.

You knew.

You remembered her now. He had mentioned her once. His childhood friend. The one with the heart condition. A passing story over dinner, shared like a memory too old to matter.

You hadn’t thought anything of it then.

But you understood now.

She wasn’t a memory.

She was the reason.

The reason he became a doctor. The reason he worked here.

The reason for his choices, his ambition, his silence.

The reason he stayed up at night, staring at the ceiling.

The reason he chose a life of saving people—so he wouldn’t lose her.

You wanted to ask him if it was all a lie. But the words wouldn’t come.

Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

And he didn’t deny it.

He didn’t say your name. He didn’t come after you.

He just stood there. Watching.

And that hurt more than anything else.

You turned and walked away.

Not out of pride. Not out of anger.

But because staying would’ve shattered you in ways you weren’t sure you could recover from.

You made it to the elevator before the tears came. Quiet ones, slipping down your cheeks like they had every right to be there. You didn’t wipe them away. You didn’t try to breathe through the ache.

You let them fall.

Eight years.

Eight years of loving someone who had always belonged to someone else.

You had been writing your love story in ink.

But he had written his in pencil. And now, he had erased you.

You don’t go home right away.

You wander the streets with no destination, the city blurring past you like watercolor in the rain. Cars pass. People pass. The world keeps moving, unaware that yours has come undone.

By the time you return to your apartment, it’s dark.

You don’t bother turning on the lights. You sit on the edge of the bed where he’s slept beside you for years, staring at the familiar shapes in the shadows—his worn coat slung over the chair, the framed photo on the nightstand, the mug with his initials you always forget to put away.

And then the door clicks.

You don’t move.

You hear the soft shuffle of his shoes being kicked off. The hesitant steps down the hallway.

Then his voice.

“Hey.”

Quiet. Careful. Like the word might break.

You still don’t move.

A beat. Two. Then he speaks again. “I didn’t expect you to be there.”

You almost laugh. Didn’t expect—

You turn slowly to face him. The expression on your face is not angry. It’s worse.

It’s tired.

Empty.

“What was I supposed to see, Zayne?” you ask. Your voice doesn’t tremble, but it’s raw. “Because all I saw was a man in love with someone else.”

He doesn’t deny it.

He doesn’t even flinch.

He just looks at you with that same unreadable gaze he always has, like he’s weighing truths against silence. Like he’s trying to choose the least painful version of honesty.

“She was sick,” he says quietly. “You knew that.”

“That’s not the part that hurts.” Your words are sharp, but they don’t rise in volume. “The part that hurts is you built your whole life around her—and I didn’t know. I loved you for eight years. And I didn’t know.”

Zayne’s eyes darken, but he says nothing.

You continue, barely able to keep your voice steady. “Every step you took, every choice you made—becoming a doctor, working at Akso Hospital… You said you wanted to help people. You made me believe that was who you were.”

“I am that,” he says quickly.

“But that’s not why you did it.” Your voice cracks on the last word. “You did it for her.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You almost laugh again, but it turns into something hollow.

“You didn’t mean to,” you echo, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize the face of someone you no longer recognize. “Zayne, I built my life around you. I was ready to marry you. I was planning forever with someone who—”

You choke. You try to breathe.

“—with someone who’s heart was never really mine.”

His shoulders stiffen. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” you say. “You loved her. You still love her. I was just… convenient.”

“That’s not true,” he says sharply. It’s the first time he’s raised his voice. “You weren’t convenient. You were—”

“What, Zayne? What was I?” you whisper. “A distraction? A substitute? Someone you convinced yourself you could be happy with because she wasn’t here?”

He looks away. That’s all the answer you need.

You don’t cry. Not this time. There’s nothing left in you to fall apart.

Instead, you stand.

“I would’ve understood if you had just told me,” you say quietly. “I would’ve left. I would’ve let you go. But you didn’t. You let me believe I was your person. And now, I don’t even know what was real.”

He doesn’t stop you when you move past him. He doesn’t call your name.

He just stands there, in the center of the hallway, with guilt written all over his face.

And you realize, for all his brilliance, for all the lives he’s saved.

Zayne never had the courage to save yours from this.

—•

You don’t even know why you agreed to be here.

Maybe part of you wanted closure. Maybe the angrier part of you wanted to look her in the eye and find something—anything—to blame.

Or maybe, in the raw aftermath of it all, you just wanted to understand what could possibly be so powerful that it unraveled eight years of your life like thread from a seam.

The hospital courtyard is quiet when you arrive. The air is cold, overcast with a brittle kind of stillness. You sit down on the far end of the stone bench, your hands curled inside your coat sleeves. The silence hums in your ears.

You almost leave.

But then you hear footsteps—soft, hesitant.

She stops in front of you. The girl.

The reason.

She looks like something out of a different life—slight, pale, wrapped in a coat two sizes too big. Her hair is tucked behind her ears, and her face is gentle in a way that feels unfair.

You wish she had sharpness to her. Arrogance.

Something you could hate on sight.

But she doesn’t.

She looks… kind.

And somehow, that hurts more.

“Hi,” she says, tentative.

You don’t answer. You just watch her, expression unreadable, trying to see what he must’ve seen.

She glances down, wringing her hands. “Thanks for coming.”

You almost say don’t thank me. Almost. But the words stay behind your teeth.

She sits, carefully keeping distance between you.

A long silence stretches out.

“I know this is strange,” she begins, “and I don’t want to make anything worse. I just thought… maybe you deserved to hear it from me.”

Your jaw clenches. “Did you know about me?”

She hesitates. Then, “Yes.”

You inhale slowly. That answer burns.

“So you knew,” you murmur, your voice tighter than you want it to be, “and you still let it happen.”

“I didn’t let anything happen,” she says softly. “I didn’t come looking for him. I didn’t expect to see him again. And when I did, I didn’t know how to undo it.”

Undo it. As if this is something she can unspool. As if your heart was a thread to pull clean.

You turn to her then, finally meeting her gaze. “I tried to hate you.”

She flinches, but you continue.

“I wanted to. I really, really did. I told myself you were selfish. That you ruined everything. That he wouldn’t have drifted if you hadn’t been there.”

Your eyes sting. But the tears stay where they are.

“I needed to hate you. Because hating him… it’s harder. And hating myself—well, that’s already happening.”

She looks at you with something close to sorrow. Not pity. Not guilt. Just a deep, quiet understanding.

“I never meant to take anything from you,” she says. “But I think… I always had him. Even when I didn’t want to.”

You nod slowly. That’s the part that kills you.

“It wasn’t fair,” you whisper. “I loved him for eight years. I gave him everything. And he—he was building a life around you the entire time.”

The girl’s lips tremble. “I don’t think he knew how to let go of me. Not fully. I don’t even think he knew he hadn’t.”

You close your eyes. The wind picks up, threading cold fingers through your coat.

“You know what’s funny?” you say, voice hollow. “I thought we were preparing for a wedding. Turns out, I was standing in the way of a reunion.”

Silence falls again. Heavy. Unforgiving.

She blinks quickly, her throat working around words she can’t say. “I’m sorry.”

You believe her. That’s the worst part.

You wanted her to be cruel, or callous, or indifferent. You wanted her to be easy to hate.

But she’s just a girl with a fragile heart, loved too deeply by someone who was never entirely yours to begin with.

You rise slowly. Your legs feel heavy, as if grief has settled in your joints.

“I hope he saves you,” you murmur. “I hope it’s worth everything he lost.”

You don’t wait for her to respond.

You leave. And this time, you don’t cry.

But something in you quietly, irrevocably, closes.

—•

He shows up three days later.

You don’t know how he finds the nerve.

You’ve ignored his calls. His texts. The pathetic, half-sincere “Can we talk?” messages that began the night after the garden. He should’ve known better. He should’ve stayed gone.

But here he is.

You hear the knock this time. You sit still for a moment, your fingers curled around the edge of the blanket you’ve barely left for days, breath caught between dread and fury.

He knocks again. Harder this time.

You stand. Not because you want to see him—because you need to. To put a face to the damage.

When you open the door, it’s like nothing has changed. He’s still Zayne. Rain-damp, serious, heartbreakingly familiar in that coat you once buried your face into when the world felt too loud.

But he’s not yours anymore.

Not really.

“What do you want?” you ask. No softness. No welcome.

His jaw tenses. “To talk.”

Your laugh is sharp and joyless. “Of course. Now you talk.”

“I know I should’ve—”

“Spare me the guilt,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood to hear you pretend this wasn’t calculated.”

He flinches. “It wasn’t.”

“Oh no?” You take a step forward. “You became a doctor for her, Zayne. You took a job at her hospital. You became her physician. How long were you going to keep lying to me?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You didn’t tell me!” you shout. “That’s the same thing!”

Your voice echoes through the hallway. You don’t care who hears. You want it to hurt.

He looks at you, lips parted like he wants to defend himself—but nothing comes out.

“I asked you once,” you continue, quieter now but no less cutting, “why you wanted to be a doctor. You told me it was to save lives. You looked me in the eye and lied.”

“I didn’t lie,” he says again, harsher now. “That’s still true. Saving her doesn’t make that less real.”

“It makes everything less real,” you spit. “Eight years, Zayne. I gave you everything. I built a future around someone who was still living in his past.”

“She almost died,” he snaps. “Do you understand that? She was twelve. I thought I lost her. I made a promise—”

“To her,” you interrupt. “You made a promise to her, and you made a life with me. You don’t get to have both.”

He falls silent.

His hands are clenched at his sides. His mouth is tight. You can tell he wants to argue, but he won’t. Because he knows you’re right.

“She was never gone,” you whisper. “Not from your heart. Not from your plans. And you… you let me believe I was enough. That I was your beginning and your end. But I was just—” your voice cracks, “I was just a pause in the story you’d always meant to return to.”

He shakes his head, voice strained. “That’s not what you were.”

“Then what was I, Zayne?”

He looks at you like he’s searching for the right words. The truth. But it’s too late for carefully packaged honesty.

You take a breath. It’s cold in your lungs. “You don’t get to grieve this. Not now. Not when you’re the one who ended it.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You laugh again. This time, it sounds like it might break you. “But you did.”

You walk back inside and return a minute later with the box—his books, his charger, the old hoodie you used to sleep in. You shove it into his arms.

He doesn’t take it right away. “Please—don’t let this be how it ends.”

You stare at him, empty. Tired. “Zayne, it ended the moment you chose silence.”

He lowers his head. Grips the box like it’s the only thing holding him together.

And when he finally turns to leave, you don’t stop him.

This time, you don’t look back.

And this time—he does cry.

He doesn’t go home.

Not right away.

He drives. Somewhere. Anywhere. The roads blur beneath the city lights, each turn as pointless as the last. He forgets where he’s meant to be.

He doesn’t cry at first.

That doesn’t happen until later—when he pulls over on the side of an empty street, kills the engine, and sits in the silence he spent years wrapping around his truth.

And then it hits him.

Not like a punch. No, it’s slower than that.

It’s the steady, suffocating realization that you’re gone.

Really gone.

Not just upset. Not waiting for him to make it right.

Gone, because you loved him too deeply to stay where you were never really seen.

He rests his forehead against the steering wheel and exhales a broken sound that might be a sob. Might be a prayer. Might just be everything finally coming undone.

How did he get here?

He thinks back to when you met. Your laugh—unexpected, soft. The way you always saw right through his silences, but never pushed too hard. How you held his hand during exams, during sleepless nights, during the moments he thought he might collapse under the weight of what he couldn’t say.

And now?

Now you won’t even look at him.

And he doesn’t blame you.

He’d clung so tightly to a ghost of the past, he never noticed he was strangling the only real thing he had left.

The worst part? He meant it. Every word he said to the other girl. The promise. The devotion. He did want to save her. He did want to protect her.

But he never asked himself why.

Maybe he thought saving her would fix something in him. That if he kept his promise, if he held on tightly enough, he’d redeem himself for that helpless, broken boy who once stood in an ER, covered in blood that didn’t belong to him.

But he never meant to love both.

Not like this.

He stares out the windshield, watching the rain bead and slide down the glass. It reminds him of you. Of the way you never cried in front of him—not even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

And that night in the hallway—your voice shaking but never pleading. Your eyes full of betrayal, not begging. That was love, too. The kind that breaks itself before it breaks you.

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, as if that will erase the weight in his chest.

But it stays.

God, it stays.

And for the first time since med school, since the long nights that almost drowned him, Zayne doesn’t know what to do.

Not with himself.

Not with this regret.

He was always good at silence. At burying what he didn’t want to face.

But this time, silence cost him the only person who ever stayed.

The hospital doesn’t feel the same.

It should.

Same corridors. Same sterile smell. Same rustle of nurses’ shoes against polished floors. He walks these halls every day—he knows the pattern of the tiles, the rhythm of the fluorescent lights above. He’s built a life inside this place.

But now?

It feels hollow. Too bright in some places. Too quiet in others.

He stands outside Operating Room B with a chart in his hand, staring at words he isn’t reading. His mind drifts. Again.

“Doctor Zayne?”

He blinks. A nurse is looking at him, brows slightly furrowed.

“You’re needed in Cardiology.”

Right. Cardiology. Her department.

He nods, mutters something close to thanks, and moves.

He still performs the surgeries. Still signs the charts. Still nods when interns look at him like he holds the world in his hands.

But something is gone.

And it’s not skill. It’s not precision.

Its presence.

He’s no longer in his life. He’s moving through it. Performing. Like muscle memory.

The girl—his childhood friend—she’s recovering. Stable. And she smiles when she sees him, small and grateful and warm.

But it doesn’t make him feel anything.

Not now.

Not since he saw the look on your face—the woman he promised a future to. The one who gave him all of herself without knowing he was never giving you all of him.

He remembers your hands, trembling when you pushed the box into his arms. The edge in your voice when you asked, “Then what was I, Zayne?”

He didn’t have an answer then.

He still doesn’t.

Because how do you explain to someone that they were your peace, your softness, your home—and you lost them because you couldn’t let go of a promise made by a boy who hadn’t learned how to speak his grief out loud?

Zayne finds himself in the stairwell, long after his shift ends. He doesn’t even remember walking here.

He sits on the steps. Folds forward. Buries his face in his hands.

He doesn’t cry. He already did that. He’s past crying now.

What he feels now is worse.

Emptiness.

The kind that seeps into everything.

He pulls out his phone. Opens your name. Stares at the last message you sent.

“Can you grab oat milk on the way home?”

He didn’t even answer it.

He thinks about texting. Something. Anything.

“I miss you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know I was choosing wrong until you were gone.”

But he doesn’t.

Because what could he say now that wouldn’t sound like too little, too late?

And because maybe—deep down—he knows you deserve someone who doesn’t have to lose you to realize you were everything.

—•

You were sitting at your usual corner table in a café tucked between a bookstore and a florist—one of those quiet places where time didn’t feel so heavy. You weren’t writing. Not that day. You just sat there, fingers wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug, watching the world through a pane of glass slick with water.

Existing in the small, still spaces between grief and recovery.

You had been doing that a lot lately. Watching.

It was raining. Of course it was.

It had been seven months since Zayne. Since the silence. Since the hallway.

You hadn’t dated anyone. You couldn’t.

Not when your heart still ached in places you hadn’t named.

That’s where you met Sylus.

He walked in, his footsteps confident as he strides up to the counter.

You didn’t look up at first. Just heard the low hum of the door chime, the soft sound of boots on wet tile. Then came the voice.

“I’ll take whatever’s strongest and not completely terrible.”

It made you glance over your shoulder.

And there he was.

White silver hair that stood out against the interior of the coffee shop.

Sharp-featured. Tall. Dressed in black with a half-dried coat slung over one arm and stormy red eyes that didn’t belong in a place like this.

He looked… misfit.

Like someone who had gotten lost on his way to something louder.

He caught you staring.

Smirked.

“Judging me already?” he said as he passed your table.

You blinked, caught off guard. “You looked like you came in here by accident.”

“I did.” He set his cup on the table across from yours without asking. “Lucky me.”

You stared at him. He stared right back. There was no hesitation in him.

No over-eagerness. No rehearsed charm. Just a strange kind of confidence, like he didn’t care whether you invited him in or not.

And yet… somehow, he was easy to talk to.

That first conversation was short. Nothing special. He told you he was in the city for work. Said he hated the rain. You said you didn’t mind it.

He teased you for that. Called you a poet. You didn’t correct him.

Before he left, he asked for your name. Then he gave you his. Sylus.

He didn’t ask for your number. He didn’t flirt. He just said, “Maybe I’ll see you here again.”

And you did.

The next week. And the week after that.

Same table. Same rain.

He never asked about your past, and you never asked about his.

He talked to you like you were new. Like you weren’t made of broken pieces.

And you liked that.

You liked that he didn’t try to fix you. That he didn’t reach for your scars or ask what happened.

He just saw you. All of you.

Eventually, you started writing again.

He’d sit across from you, reading some obscure book or sketching something in a notebook he never let you see.

“You ever gonna tell me what that is?” you asked one afternoon.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, “when you’re done hiding behind yours.”

You laughed. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel strange.

He didn’t slip into your life the way Zayne did.

No, Sylus walked in with loud footsteps and called attention to all the parts of you that still needed to be held.

And when he finally kissed you—months later, after too many late nights and half-finished conversations—he didn’t whisper promises.

He only said, “You don’t have to be ready. Just let me stay.”

And you did.

Now, you’re curled up on the couch in one of Sylus’s old sweaters, legs folded beneath you, a half-read book resting in your lap.

You’ve read the same paragraph three times. The words blur and smear.

Not because you’re tired—though you are—but because your thoughts won’t sit still.

He notices.

He always does.

Sylus steps out from the kitchen, two mugs in hand. You hadn’t asked for tea. You never really need to. He knows the nights when you can’t quite find your center.

He sits beside you, close but never crowding, and offers the cup without a word.

You take it, fingers brushing his. His touch is warm. Steady.

You don’t speak right away.

He doesn’t push.

That’s the thing about Sylus. He doesn’t try to draw the pain out of you. He just makes space for it. Holds it. Waits until you’re ready.

After a long moment, you say quietly, “It’s almost been two years.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “Since him?”

You nod.

Sylus leans back against the couch, stretching an arm along the top. Not possessive. Just there. Like a safety net.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I just… thought I’d be past the memory by now.”

He hums softly. “Memories don’t care about time. They’re like bruises under the skin. You forget they’re there until something presses too hard.”

You glance at him, lips tugging into a faint, worn smile. “Is that your poetic way of saying it’s okay to feel like this?”

He smirks. “It’s my poetic way of saying I’m not going anywhere.”

Your smile softens. Fades into something real.

He’s never tried to replace what came before. Never asked you to forget it. He simply stayed.

When you turned away.

When you flinched at first touch.

When you said not yet.

When you said I’m not whole.

Sylus looked you in the eye and said, You don’t have to be.

And you believed him.

Now, you lean your head against his shoulder, tea still warm between your hands. He lets you rest there in silence.

No questions. No expectations.

Just the quiet knowing that this—whatever it is—is something different.

Something earned.

And when his hand finds yours and doesn’t let go, you feel it again.

That peace you thought you’d never know after Zayne.

The kind of love that doesn’t arrive like a storm.

But like a home.

—•

Two years later, you see him again.

You hadn’t expected it—weren’t prepared for it.

It’s a charity gala, the kind Sylus rarely agrees to attend, but he’s here tonight for you.

One hand on your back, the other wrapped loosely around a glass of champagne he hasn’t touched. He looks just like he always does, sharp suit, sharp tongue, a man made of storm and steel, and yet—when he looks at you, it softens him.

Always.

You never thought you’d get to feel this way again.

Safe.

Loved.

Chosen.

You’re speaking to someone—maybe a publisher, maybe a donor—you don’t really remember.

And then you feel it.

That cold flicker down your spine.

That familiar stillness before the silence breaks.

You turn.

And there he is.

Zayne.

Two years older. A little more tired. A little less certain.

He’s standing just across the room, alone in a sea of people.

He looks like he doesn’t quite belong here, like he’s watching a world he no longer fits into.

And then his eyes find you.

You don’t look away.

You let him see it—all of it.

The soft smile on your lips. The ring on your finger. The way Sylus leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple without even realizing he’s doing it.

Zayne’s expression doesn’t change. Not really. But you feel the ripple.

Because this time, you are not the one breaking.

You are not the one watching love walk away.

You’re standing still.

And someone is holding on.

You excuse yourself quietly from the conversation, fingers brushing Sylus’s wrist as you turn to whisper something.

He catches the look in your eyes. He knows. Of course he knows.

But he says nothing. Just stays close. Just keeps his hand resting at the small of your back like he’s reminding you—you’re not alone.

When you approach, Zayne doesn’t speak right away.

He just looks at you like he’s trying to memorize the life you’ve built without him. The one he didn’t stay long enough to deserve.

“You look…” he begins, but falters. His voice is rougher now. Thinner.

“Happy?” you offer gently.

He nods. “Yeah.”

You glance back at Sylus, who’s watching from a respectful distance, sharp-eyed and protective as ever. He always gives you space when you need it. But never too far.

“I didn’t know you were back in the city,” Zayne says.

You nod. “We moved here last spring.”

“We?”

“My husband and I.”

He flinches—just barely. But you see it.

You don’t gloat. You don’t need to.

There’s a grace in moving on that silence can never rewrite.

“He’s good to you?” Zayne asks.

You smile. “He sees me.”

The words hang between you. Heavy. Sharp. True.

Zayne swallows hard. “I’m glad.”

You nod. And this time, it’s real. “So am I.”

You don’t stay long. Just long enough for him to see that you survived him. That you bloomed after the break. That someone else saw what he couldn’t hold.

You return to Sylus without looking back.

He slides his arm around your waist and leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I am now.”

And as the music rises and the crowd begins to move again, you rest your hand over your husband’s and let yourself forget the boy who couldn’t choose you.

Because you’ve already chosen the man who never had to be asked.

[liyasbubblespace]

Come Back To Me // Multi x Reader

Hey, I'm back with some angst, just for you guys! This one is for all of the lads boys. Concept: You end up in hospital, they wait by your side for you to wake up. Tags: Angst, hospital, mentions of injuries, so much yearning, mentions of blood, might be a bit OOC, all the nicknames. Wordcount: 450-500 words each Masterlist

Writing under cut bc it's long, enjoy

Xavier

The breath he lets out is shaky, vulnerable, as he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Perched on the chair next to the bed, his eyes stay focused on your face, the steady rise of your chest, and the bandages decorating your body. 

“You must be sleeping well, you need the rest. You’ve been overworking yourself lately, you know? I’m supposed to be your partner, why didn’t you call me?” His words are barely audible, gentle, yet heavy. Nearly as heavy as the pressure weighing down his chest. 

His heart dropped the moment he received that call, the drowsiness from his nap disappearing in an instant. He was rushing into the hospital before the phone call even ended, there was no second to waste. Blood rushing through his body was the only thing he could hear, as his chest constricted in a barely hidden panic. You have to be alright. Please be alright. 

The moment his eyes fell on you in that hospital room, hooked up to a multitude of wires and machines, his knees nearly buckled. Bandages peeked through the gown on your body as you lay there, still as a statue, still as a corpse. The only thing indicating that you were still here, still alive, was the rise and fall of your chest and the steady beep, beep, beep of a nearby machine. 

His hand gripped yours tighter as he pressed his forehead against your fingers, trying, yet failing, to steady himself. Gone was that calmness of the experienced hunter, instead replaced by a shaky emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time. Fear. He couldn’t lose you again, not like this. He would not survive losing you again, just like he did all that time ago.

“You said you wouldn’t leave, so please, please, come back to me.”

Time seemed irrelevant as the day passed him by, nothing snapping his focus away from you, waiting for you to open your eyes. Your beautiful eyes, the ones that sparkled with joy, a fondness, when you looked at him. He yearned to see that bright smile, the same one when you ate your favourite food, when you won a plushie in the claw machines, when you were up to no good playing pranks on him. The sky outside darkened rapidly, the rush of the hospital settling down into a quietness that was somewhat unsettling. Xavier was yet to move from your bedside, only allowing the nurses to check in on you now and then, refusing to go home even when visiting hours end. 

“Open your eyes when you’re ready, I’ll be here when you wake up, I’m not leaving you ever again. I love you, my starlight. When the morning comes, I hope you’ll be here with me again.”

Rafayel

“Miss Bodyguard, how are you meant to protect me when you’re asleep in hospital? You need to take better care of yourself.” There was a teasing facade in his words, desperately trying to cover up the weakness in his voice. His back was starting to hurt as he leaned forward in the uncomfortable hospital chair, he hadn't eaten or drank or slept in days, but none of that mattered. Not when you were still not waking up, no matter how much he called for you. His hand moved towards your face, brushing away the hair swept across your forehead. 

“You know, you promised me you wouldn’t make me wait again, and yet here we are. Open your eyes cutie, I want to see that beautiful smile again.”

When he heard you ended up in hospital, he immediately dropped everything. The painting he was working on? Forgotten. The art show he was meant to attend? Ignored. The meeting with an investor? Cancelled. There was nothing else on his mind apart from making sure you were okay, that you were alive and coming back to him. When he heard you were unconscious, and not likely to wake up any time soon, he nearly couldn’t make himself take a step through that door, hesitating just long enough to prepare himself. But he wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t prepared for the fear and worry that engulfed him when he saw your form, laying still, unmoving, on the blue sheets of the hospital bed. Even approaching you was a challenge, his legs too shaky to move steadily, and when he finally got there, he had to blink away the tears that welled in his eyes. The paleness in your skin made his brow furrow, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, caressing it ever so gently.

“I told you before to come back to me, safe and sound. Human promises sure are fickle.” His voice broke before he could finish getting his words out as he lay a soft kiss on your forehead. 

He immediately upgraded your room to a private one, ensuring the care you got was top notch in hopes that it would make you wake up sooner. Not once did he leave your side, jumping up at ever twitch of your fingers, at every noise that left your lips. But your eyes didn’t open. He talked and talked, filling the silence, maybe his voice can guide you home, guide you back to him.

“I’ll decorate the cast when you wake up, just tell me what you want me to draw.” 

“My heart is in your hands, Cutie, you have to come back and take care of it.”

Zayne

“You said you’d be careful, and what do you do? What will I do with you?” The sigh he let out was heavy as he put your medical charts down, a hand moving to caress your head, moving the hair from your face. To anyone looking in, he would seem nonchalant, almost cold, but the storm raging inside of him as he gazed on your form was unrelenting, his heart shattering as he redid the bandages on your body. He refused to let any other doctor take your case, he trusted himself enough to provide you with the best care, no matter how much it hurt him to see you like this. He was your doctor after all. And your partner. You could rely on him to take care of you when you needed it. 

“You always scold me when I’m injured, and yet I can’t bring myself to scold you for being this reckless. Seeing you like this, it makes my heart ache, so please wake up, come back to me.”

He was already working when he got the notice that you were on your way in. He intended to carry on with his work, finishing it quickly so he could take care of you. That is until he found out that your condition was critical. He dropped everything, reassigning other staff to cover his patients, so his focus could be entirely on you. They tried to stop him, he was too involved to have a clear head, but he refused, knowing that everything he worked hard to achieve was so that he could take care of you. To help you. And help you he did, no matter how much his hands threatened to shake, no matter the fear that gripped his heart, he still trusted his skill. His only thoughts were to save you. When you were finally stable, he still refused to leave your side. You were more important than any work he had, more important than anything in this world. 

“I can’t do my work when all I can think about is you, here. The only time you should visit the hospital is for your checkups and to see me. Not like this. I’ll make sure you recover quickly, so rest until you’re ready to open your eyes.

Days later, you still didn’t wake up. He kept an eye on your vitals, taking up doing his reports by your bedside. The other staff brought him food, trying to coax him out so he could get some sleep, but to no avail. He talked to you too, when he needed a break, holding your hand, his thumb gently swiping across your knuckles.

“The cafe I told you about has just announced the new dessert menu, I’ll take you there when you wake up. So wake up quickly now, my love.”

Sylus

His fingers worked to soothe the furrow in his brow as he leaned on the chair by the hospital bread, his eyes softening as he analyses the bandages wrapped around your body. The sigh that leaves his mouth is heavy, tired, as he moves to sit in the chair by your side. Silence surrounds him as he works through the unease settled in his chest.

When he found you in that field, his heart might as well have stopped. Mephisto reported what had happened, how you collapsed after fighting off several wanderers, killing the last one before passing out, blood seeping from your wounds. He had never moved faster, racing the streets on his bike, until he had you in his arms. He didn’t think twice about bringing you back to the N109 zone, calling on the best doctors he knew to his door, ensuring you were in the best care. He observed as they worked, scrutinizing their every move, a darkness surrounding him. The doctors, to their credit, worked quickly and efficiently, stabilising your condition, lest they upset the leader of Onychinus. Once he dismissed them, he sat on the edge of the bed, placing his hand firmly on your own.

“Sweetie, no matter how strong you are, I wish you would allow me to help you more. Rely on me, I’m at your beck and call, you know this.” 

He did not move from the room, making sure you were comfortable, that your bandages stayed clean, and that he would be the first to know when you finally woke up. The uneasy feeling never left, and he was sure it wouldn’t until he saw your soft smile and your striking eyes. He desired to hear your laugh, to be on the receiving end of those teasing comebacks, to hold you. You were right here, yet you felt so far away when you slumbered for so long.

“I’ve always allowed you to come and go as you please, but this time, I ask you to come back to me, Kitten.”

His fuse was short in the days that you slept, on edge with everything and anyone who tried to distract him from being with you. He slept on that chair by your bed, had Luke and Keiran run his errands, and took no nonsense from anyone. He couldn’t get settled no matter how much he tried. With yet another sigh, he stroked your hair, traced your features, a gentleness he held towards you that contrasted drastically to how he’s been with everyone else.

“You are my one weakness kitten, but you’re also my strength. You make me want to be better for you. We were destined to meet again, the curse is gone so don’t leave me now.”

“I adore you, my dear sorceress. You chose to stay by my side, so come back to me.”

Caleb

A darkness had settled in his eyes as he examined your form, fear and guilt gripping his heart. He couldn’t move, not even an inch, as the grip on your hand seemed like the only thing keeping him from losing it completely. His eyes were already red, the burning behind his eyes was almost painful, but he shed no tears, he refused. Because you were still here, you were still alive. 

“Pipsqueak, come on, open your eyes for me.” His voice was small, broken, the pain coursing through his body shining through his words.

He didn’t even have time to think before he was rushing to the hospital. When you didn’t arrive to meet him as intended, worry started to bloom. He tried your phone several times just to be sent to voicemail, he knew something was wrong when he was sent to voicemail. He quickly found out, through less than legitimate means, what had happened, and he moved quickly, his mind racing. He rushed through the white halls, bursting through the door to your room. His breath caught in his throat as he took you in, the bandages that decorated your head and body, the bruises peeking from behind them. The stillness of your form brought a panic to him, memories he yearned to forget surfacing once more as he moved to your side, grasping your hand firmly and bringing it to his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I know you said you didn’t need my protection, and I know you’re strong. You are so strong. But seeing you like this? It kills me inside.”

His whole life was put on hold over the next few days. He would not leave the room, he would not let go of your hand, scrutinising anyone who even suggested he do so. He watched over you vigilantly, ensuring you were comfortable, that your condition remained stable, that you would wake up. Guilt clawed at his heart, refusing to let go. If only he was there when you needed him, you would not have ended up like this. Why did you not call him? Why was he not there?

“Everything I have done, it’s always been for you. To protect you. I want you to depend on me like you used to.” 

His fingers pet your hair as he leaned over you, his violet eyes committing your features to memory. He longed to see your eyes, to hear you tease and banter with him just like old times, to hug you, to hold you. He encouraged you to wake up so many times over these last few days, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll respond to him.

“I have so many things left to say to you, so many things I still want to experience with you. So don’t leave when we’re just getting started.”

“I love you. I love you so much more than you know. Open your eyes so I can tell you.”

[liyasbubblespace]

lipstick stains.

reader decides to dabble with art using several lipstick as her tools and sylus' sleeping face as her canvas.

fluff. inspired by one of sylus' texts in the game (included down below near the end). no warnings, just little kisses and reader having a little fun <3

It's two in the afternoon and there's nothing to do until sunset, when it's time to get ready for a date with your lover who's currently sleeping.

No... maybe there is something you could do.

A certain someone recently just bought you several new shades of lipstick from the brand that you love. Maybe now is a good idea to see which color would suit your outfit best for your date.

You wore a sly grin as you gathered all of your new lipstick and tiptoed your way inside Sylus' bedroom.

He's still in the same position as when you put him to bed: mostly on his back, though his upper body's slightly on a higher level due to the fluffy cold pillow supporting his shoulders.

He's wearing his satin burgundy robe, which had gotten a little loose to expose a portion of his chest. You were tempted to rest your head against it, but you can't afford to be distracted right now. You have a mission.

You're going to test the shades of your new lipstick with Sylus' help.

First up is cherry.

You put on a single layer of that color on your lips, then you carefully leaned down towards Sylus' face and softly kissed his forehead. You made sure it was as light as a feather so he doesn't wake up and end your fun so soon.

Next: rose.

You painted your lips with the brighter shade and pecked Sylus' left cheek. It gave a similar result as the previous contender: it looks great, but this particular color probably won't match your outfit tonight.

Third candidate is: wine

This one went to his right cheek and your gaze lingered on it for a little longer than the rest, as the color seemed so fitting on Sylus' face. The stain of wine always did compliment him, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

Up next is blood-red.

It's darker than wine and you also love its velvety texture. More importantly, the kiss mark of its hue looks wonderful on Sylus' left jawline.

Following that is blush.

This one's brighter and more on the pink side. Even though you like it, tonight won't be the night when you'd wear it. Nonetheless, it certainly looks lovely on your lover's chin, which twitched for a second after you kissed it.

Next one is apple.

You kissed the right side of Sylus' jaw and awed at its surprisingly vibrant tone. This one might work quite well with your outfit.

There's the shade called merlot, too.

It's more on the darker side, but you're not sure if it'll look good with your outfit tonight. On the other hand, it's cute on Sylus' nose.

Last but not least: ruby

This one seems like it's in the middle of the palette in terms of saturation, and it appears to have an appealing texture as well. To test it out, you put it on your lips and left a mark on the little spot just above his lips.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Sylus stirred all of a sudden, so you ended up kissing him on the lips.

From the very moment your lips touched, your face heated up and you backed away in panic.

You've kissed him plenty of times. You've kissed him on the lips and on spots that are not his lips. You've done way more than kissing. And yet still, your heart raced at the thought of him catching you stealing kisses from him while he sleeps.

It's still a little early for him to wake up, so you decided to leave him alone for now. You took all of your lipstick with you and ran out before he could detect your presence.

//////////

Your mouth drops at the text message you just received.

"I need to hide, quickly! You guys better not snitch on me! Especially you, Mephie!" You glared at the crow before leaving Luke and Kieran, suddenly ending your game of Kitty Cards.

You fled to look for a hiding spot, but it's too late. Your face planted against a strong chest.

You swore you heard a cough from behind you, followed by the sound of someone's phone clicking for a picture.

It didn't matter though because Sylus spared no attention to Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto as his eyes are completely focused on you.

"Sylus....." you laughed nervously. "Good afternoon. Had a nice dream?"

"Mhmm." He crossed his arms, giving you a raised brow. "In my dream, I was being attacked by a mischievous kitten while I was asleep."

"...."

"You're coming with me." He took one step towards you and leaned down to whisper to your ear. "You have to be punished for your crimes."

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and retreated back to his bedroom.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other.

"Did you get the picture?"

"Yeah."

[liyasbubblespace]

n i g h t m a r e s.

angst with comfort. they have a nightmare where they lost you.

sylus

You were in the N109 Zone for hunters business, and he only found out from Mephisto. Sylus got on his bike and rushed over to your location to demand answers. Why are you there? Why are you alone? Why didn't you tell him anything?

Once he saw you in the middle of a battleground surrounded by unconscious bodies and wrapping a bandage around your left arm, Sylus's breath hitched.

"So the kitten got scratched, despite how ferocious she is." He reached out to help you with your bandage, but you took a step back and frowned at him.

"Don't touch me."

"Oh?" He raised a brow at your cold tone. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, sweetie?"

You gritted your teeth and turned away from him.

"Stay away from me, Sylus."

Confusion flashed in his eyes. You didn't look like you're in a joking mood, and the way you looked at him with empty eyes felt like a stab to his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked carefully, not taking a single step towards you just in case you start running away. "Have I done something to piss you off?"

"Done something?" you laughed bitterly. "What haven't you done?"

No, there wasn't just emptiness in your eyes. There was disgust. Repulsion, directed at him. You haven't looked at him in that way for a long time, and he was reminded of how much he hated it.

"Sweetie, let's talk -"

He made the mistake of reaching out to touch you, so you slapped his hand away and jumped back.

"I said stay away from me! Don't.... don't talk to me anymore, don't follow me, just don't.... just stay out of my life! I don't want to be with a monster like you!"

A monster.

So, that's what it was.

He can't say he was surprised.

He always had a feeling that one day, you'll come to your senses and ask yourself, how could you ever love someone like him?

Looks like you've finally woken up from whatever spell he put on you. Now, you want nothing to do with him.

"Stay away from me." You took even more steps back, your figure was starting to merge with the shadows. "Goodbye, Sylus."

His feet were stuck to the bloodstained ground as he watched you disappear in his life forever.

Suddenly, he became aware of how cold the air is, and how quiet it is around him. His heart twinged, as if he'd been pierced by multiple daggers. His body felt numb and empty.

Standing became difficult, and his eyes felt like anchors that demanded to be shut. He gasped for air as he feels his chest tightening, but he only felt even more drowned.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't move.

He wanted go run after you, but bloodied hands had sprung out of nowhere and started pulling his feet deeper in the ground.

"Sylus..."

"...."

"Sylus."

His eyes opened and squinted from the setting sun's light that slipped past the curtains of his bedroom windows.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

He sat up and frantically scanned his surroundings. He ran a hand through his hair and felt all the sweat that were on his forehead.

"Sylus?"

His eyes slowly met yours, and they lingered for a long time. It's as if he's waiting and searching for something.

"You had a nightmare, right?" You looked at him with concern. "Are you okay? I'm gonna go get you a glass of water. I'll be back - "

"No, wait."

Sylus caught your hand as you tried to leave. His thumb caressed the back of your hand and observed it for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Just stay here with me. I just...need you here."

"Okay." You sat still next to him and let him fiddle with your hands, as it seems to be giving him comfort. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Sylus tangled his fingers against yours, keeping his eyes on your joined hands. "You're not...." He paused for a second as he felt his throat drying up nervously. "You're not repulsed by me, are you?"

"What?"

"You know what l've done.... What I do, and who I am. Do you still... Do you still...."

You were quick to understand what he was trying to ask, and what he might have dreamt about.

"I love you." You looked into his eyes that seems to lack its usual life and confidence. "I know what you do and who you are, and I still love you, Sylus. Whatever happened in your dream.... it's not real."

He closed his eyes and let your words sink in deep in his heart, replaying them to forget about the painful words you threw at him in his nightmare.

It wasn't real.

What's real is you, in front of him, holding his hands and you telling him that you love him.

What's real is you caring about him and sticking by his side even when he's feeling vulnerable.

Sylus' silent reply came with a lingering kiss on your forehead. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and guided you to lie back down. Once your back is flat against the soft mattress, Sylus pulled you close to him.

Even though he didn't say anything, you felt his gratitude with the way he embraced you with such warm, gentle, and secure arms.

As he closed his eyes, he continued to replay the words you told him.

At last, he was gifted with a peaceful dream.

///////

xavier

Surrounded by speck of lights, Xavier spun you around as you and him dance slowly underneath the stars.

You two were on your way home after a dinner date when you heard music blasting from a nearby concert venue. Live music echoes throughout the park with the big water fountain, completely empty since it's already quite late.

Xavier gazed at the way your face lit up as you laugh after suddenly losing balance and almost stepping on his feet.

"You didn't accidentally drink alcohol tonight, did you?" He held your hands tightly to keep you stable.

"Of course not! I just got a little dizzy, that's all."

"Maybe you just need to sleep more." he says half-jokingly as he rested his hands on your waist. "Instead of leaving the bed so early in the morning, you should just wait for me to wake you up. I'll be your alarm clock."

"Pfft. If that's the case, we might be sleeping forever." You cupped his face with your hands as he looks at you with bright eyes.

"That doesn't sound too bad." he whispers, leaning closely to brush his lips against yours. "I don't mind, as long as you're next to me. We have all the time in the world."

Just as he closed the distance between your lips, you suddenly froze and moved back.

"Hmm? What's - "

You let go of him and put a hand on your chest, right over your heart.

"It... it hurts..."

Your face suddenly turned pale.

"I - can't b-breathe..."

Xavier felt his world stop as your legs gave out. His arms stopped your knees from hitting the ground, and his body became numb after feeling how clammy your skin had gotten.

"X-xavier...."

He found himself struggling to take a breathe, too.

He was petrified.

He didn't know what to do.

It was happening again. He was losing you all over again, just like in every life time he had with you. Just when he thought he finally got it right this time, just when he thought he'd get his happy ending...

He couldn't lose you.

Not now. Not again.

He has to do something.

"Xavier..."

His vision suddenly darkened. You vanished completely, and he couldn't feel your body at all. It's like you'd turned into dust.

"No..."

"Xavier..."

"Where are you?" he cried in panic, desperately looking around for you yet not a single light welcomed his eyes. He called out your name repeatedly, but your voice was fading away.

"Where....."

"Xavier!"

And in an instant, a flash of light embraced him. He opened his eyes and the first thing he sees is you, sitting next to him and looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

You were wearing pajamas rather than the fancy dress he last saw you in. There is no fountain, and you were not at a park. You two are in his apartment, in his bedroom.

"You...." His heart was racing as he looked at you for a long time. "You're..... you're...." His throat felt tight and dry.

You took his hands and held them tightly. "I'm right here, Xavier." You pulled him into your arms and rested his face against your chest. "Everything is fine."

He closed his eyes and exhaled as he heard the sound of your stable heartbeat.

You're here and you're okay.

"I thought...." Xavier groans and shakes his head. He'd rather not recall that nightmare. "I'm... I'm glad you're here."

You held him tighter, feeling his body's warmth returning. "I won't go anywhere."

You took the hint that he didn't want to talk about what got him shaking and breathing heavily in his sleep. Sometimes, it's good to talk about nightmares, and sometimes it's better to just let it fade away.

"It's around five in the morning." you told him. "The birds are gonna start chriping soon. Do you wanna step out with me to see them?

"Yeah." he smiled against your chest. "I'd like that."

////////

rafayel

It was his own fault that you ran away from him. He was feeling sick, particularly due to his Lemurian nature, and he blurted out that he needed some time away from you for a while, right when you were trying to take care of him. He was overwhelmed and frustrated, and he told you something he didn't mean.

And now, you're gone.

The house and the beach have never felt so empty and lonely.

He couldn't recall when was the last time he'd seen you and heard your voice.

Rafayel finds himself sitting in front of an unfinished painting of the one he loves. He'd memorized the expression you wear when you'd admire the sunset with him after collecting sea shells. He painted that precious memory just so he can see your face outside of his head.

He wondered what you would think about your portrait once he shows it to you.

He waited and waited.

But you never came back.

Rafayel couldn't remember. Has it been weeks? Months? Years? Did another lifetime pass? Will he have to search for you again?

Of course, he'd do it. He'll wait for you and search for you for as long as he needs. For as long as he can.

But he really thought this lifetime would be it. He thought, maybe, you won't lose each other this time. He had everything he wanted, and yet...

You left him again. You'd given up on him.

If only he could turn back time, he'll find a way to show his true feelings. He'd find a way to keep you close and never let you go.

If only....

"What a mess you are."

"....huh....?"

That was your voice.

His eyes snapped wide open to see you looking down on him. He was sitting down on a chair and his head was down on a table, on top of the unfinished painting of you.

He had fallen asleep with paint all over his face and clothes, though he didn't care about that.

Was it all just a dream?

Was he given another chance?

"You... Are you really here?"

You tilted your head at the sound of his weak voice. "I am. Mostly, I'm here to check up on you because I thought you wouldn't sleep. I'm glad to learn that I was wrong. You were talking in your sleep."

He was saying some things in Lemurian, so you didn't understand. Though, he clearly looked upset, so you contemplated whether to wake him up or not. Nonetheless, his eyes opened at the sound of your voice, no matter how quiet you tried to be.

"You're here....Even though I...." he looks away, feeling his stomach churning with discomfort. "Even though I pushed you away...." He looked down at the portrait he'd been working on. "In my dream, you left and didn't come back. I was waiting for you, but you weren't coming. I thought I wasn't going to see you again, and I was.... I was scared."

You felt your heart drop as his voice quivered. You stepped towards him and pulled him into a hug, catching him by surprise.

"Rafayel..." He buried his face in your stomach. "I'm not going to leave you. Sure, you can be a little dramatic and moody. Sometimes, you overwhelmed and frustrated. Sometimes, you'd want space, and that's perfectly okay."

He wrapped his arms around you tightly.

"I couldn't resist staying away from you for more than five days." you laughed. "That's why I'm here. To see how you are."

"I..." he looks up at you and flashes you a smile. "I'm feeling better now that you're here."

"Good." You caressed his face and wiped a speck of paint that was on his chin. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

"Okay!"

///////

zayne

Zayne exited a patient's room just in time to hear the commotion out in the hallway. He could hear Yvonne giving out orders. She's trying to sound calm, but he could tell that she was shaken by something.

He took five steps right before an unconscious body was brought in a stretcher.

His eyes noticed the hunters' uniform first, torn and covered in blood. Then, there was the gaping wound on your stomach. Lastly, your cold, paling face.

Zayne dropped the clipboard that was in his hand. His feet acted on their own and rushed to your side, shakily calling out your name.

His hands shook and his vision blurred.

"Doctor Zayne!" Yvonne came up next to him. "She's - "

"I'm her primary doctor. I'll -"

He was stopped from entering the room that you was taken into.

Instead, Greyson came running in, but not before giving Zayne a look of sympathy. "I'll do all that I can to save her."

"I'm going in too."

Yvonne put a hand on his shoulder.

"Doctor Zayne... She's going to be okay. We can trust Doctor Greyson."

His breath comes out raggedy as he tries to calm his pounding heart in his tightening chest. "But I'm her physician. I'm the one that should be treating her."

"I'm sorry, Doctor Zayne."

He knows the rules, yet he found them hard to follow at the moment.

Doctors are generally not supposed to operate on anyone that's close to them, such as a family member or a partner, due to several complicated ethical matters.

But still, he should be the one to treat you.

What was the point of him becoming a doctor if he couldn't save your life?

"Let me...."

"We're losing her!" someone exclaims from your room.

Zayne felt his vision spinning. He tried to get to you, but his legs stopped working.

Why couldn't he move?

He needed to see you. To save you.

Move.

Save her.

There's no time.

Move.

Move, or else she's going to....

"Zayne!"

His body felt as if it had been pulled out of a frozen lake. He gasped and shot up from his seat, finding his legs working perfectly. He's inside his home office and he had taken a nap right on his desk.

"Zayne! Are you okay? I heard you screaming so I -" you failed to finish your sentence as you were suddenly pulled in his arms.

Your feet lifted from the ground while you wrapped your arms around his back. Zayne rested his face against your neck and took a deep breath and a slow exhale, tickling your skin.

From where your hands are, you could feel him slightly trembling. He must have had a horrible nightmare.

"I never want to feel that again." he whispered, pressing you tighter against him. "Please, don't go."

You ran your hands up and down his back. "I'm not going anywhere."

Zayne didn't leave your side for the rest of the night.

////////

caleb

After all these years, he couldn't believe he finally got what he wanted. You're by his side, not just as your childhood friend, but as your lover.

Out of all the people, you chose him.

It felt too good to be true.

And maybe that's why you were once again taken from him.

One day, he received a call from your boss. Apparently, you had encountered someone from Ever and got in a dangerous fight. You were taken to a hospital, so Caleb instantly left Skyhaven to see you.

He entered your room with a basket full of apples. "Pip-squeak, you look terrible."

You stared at him with a deadpanned expression.

You had bandages wrapped around the top of your head, since that was where your main injury is. Aside from that, you had minor bruises and scratches on your arms.

"Tough crowd today." He sat on the chair and held your left hand.

You pulled away quickly.

"Huh? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You blinked at him with confusion. "....Who are you?"

"...." Caleb lets out a chuckle, even though his heart had already dropped. "That's not funny."

The look on your face told him that you weren't in the mood for jokes either.

"You.... you don't remember me?"

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, but I can't remember..."

His entire world felt like it came crashing down.

All the memories he'd desperately tried to preserve. All the moments you'd spent together, from when you were kids that were nothing more than lab rats, to when you both started living with your grandma, to when you reunited after the incident, and to when you started to become lovers. All of it is gone.

You're looking at him with nothing but confusion in your eyes.

You didn't even want to hold his hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." Behind his pained smile, he clenched his fists even though he could no longer feel them.

This is all Ever's fault.

He is going to make them pay for hurting you and taking away all of your precious memories, stripping you of your identity.

"While you recover, I'll look after you." he told you while holding an apple towards you. "If you need anything, just let me know."

"Okay."

Despite your reply, you never came to him for help. Even when your injuries got better, you refused his offers to look after you and keep you company.

You never asked about your old memories. You weren't even trying to regain them. It's like you'd turned into a new person, and he had become a stranger to you.

You were his entire world, but he was nothing but a fragment of your past that you no longer know and care for. He was nothing to you.

It should be fine, right?

You're alive. That's the most important part.

You were safe, and he's going to make sure you stay safe, even if he has to stay in the shadows.

So, why does it hurt so much?

Why did getting out of bed feel pointless? Why does he check his phone, knowing he hasn't crossed your mind at all? Why did his shoulders feel heavier and his chest tighter?

He just wanted to see you. He wanted to hear your voice, calling his name to show him something silly so he can laugh with you.

He wouldn't mind if you get angry with him for all the stupid things he'd done. As long as you know he's there, as long as you look at him, that's enough for him.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Caleb almost fell out of bed at the alarm ringing in full blast.

"What....?"

He wasn't in his dark, lonely room in Skyhaven. He's in your bright and colorful apartment, on your warm bed.

And there was someone humming from outside the room.

Caleb slowly got out of bed and followed the source of the humming that had his heart racing and swelling, warming up his body that had been feeling cold and empty just seconds ago.

He enters the kitchen and finds you cooking breakfast.

Suddenly, breathing became ten times easier.

You yelped as you were hugged from behind. "Caleb! Don't scare me like that!"

He smiled against your shoulders. "It's you that scared me to death, pip-squeak."

"Me? What do you mean?!"

"Nothing." He pressed his lips on your right cheek. "So, what's for breakfast?"

It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real, and it's never going to be real. He'll make sure of it. He will never let anything happen to you for as long as he lives.

All he ask for in return is for you to keep looking at him with the same light of love and happiness in your eyes.

[liyasbubblespace]

I shouldn’t have kissed you

with: zayne, caleb, sylus

content: fluff

[liyasbubblespace]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝒔𝒚𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔! 𝒍𝒖𝒌𝒆 & 𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏

[liyasbubblespace]

Writing a Sylus x Reader fic where Sylus kidnaps Zayne because Reader got hurt, and Zayne is the only doctor you trust

Here’s a snippet from Sylus’s PoV

[liyasbubblespace]

strong or weak, he'll still be there to hold you when you need him to

(super self-indulgent art cuz my stomach hurts like a bitch and drawing sylus is the only thing keeping me sane rn I love my husband—)

[liyasbubblespace]

Kitten Cafe

Sylus X Female!Reader

First idea of a future fic that I share, many ramblings below

You own a well-known cafe, your service is fast and efficient, with a wide menu and a friendly smile. You let your customers play the famous kitty cards, but the charm was in your feline friends, famous for leaving hair everywhere.

You have a series of cats, all rescued and of different breeds, even with some disabilities, who interact with the customers. The fact that your store is near an arcade is an incredible bonus, and your house is right above your space—just a lovely, simple life.

You have this client who comes several times a week, a famous hunter who loves visiting your cafe, bringing various company, sometimes several in the same day, just to play the kitty cards. She's a good friend of yours, loves to chat, and has invited you to play cards when she comes alone. She has been attending this cafe for years. She's a lovely person.

Miss hunter brings this terrifying platinum-haired guy. She always complains about losing to him before leaving. He doesn't look at you, and at first, neither do you, until the cats start clinging to him. You've had to separate them for fear he'll do something to them, even though the Miss hunter assures you he'd never harm innocent animals. You don't panic until one day you see him petting your newest addition; a Spinx cat with a missing front leg. He was your clients' least favorite, and if that man didn't look at him with disgust, then he couldn't be that bad.

One day, while Miss Hunter is on one of her many dates, you're bringing coffee to her table after she lost her first round, and somehow, she ends up rambling about how you could beat her companion, the man's gaze with red eyes—Red eyes? First time you saw something like that, and they were mesmerizing. His smile is mocking and invites you to challenge him, his only intention was to annoy Miss Hunter, and she practically begs you to beat him up. You play Kitty Cards very well. Hell, you were one of the first people to play it and include it in the cafe. You refuse out of courtesy, but Miss Hunter insists and under the pressure of that man's gaze, you accept.

This couldn't be considered a fight; it was pitiful. That man was either very unlucky or overthinking things. You defeat him mercilessly, and Miss Hunter is having the time of her life, the rematch has no different outcome and that couple retires shortly after.

And then, that man returns, alone, without Miss Hunter, which is odd. He sits at the bar and orders his usual. You don't entertain him, you just give him his coffee before jumping to another customer. You can feel his indignation on your back.

When he finishes his coffee, he doesn't leave, and you approach for the used cup. His gaze freezes you, and with his wicked smile, he asks if you'd have time for a game of cards. You decline; you have work to do, and he offers to pay you a hundred times the price of that coffee if you play, and you'd be a fool to refuse.

The result is no different from the first time: he leaves you a wad of bills and walks out smiling, but clearly grumpy. He introduces himself as Skye, a fruit vendor, he's a strange guy.

You don't see him until the following week, with Miss Hunter, this time you don't let yourself be talked into playing. And the man returns twice more than that week on his own, his sole task being to defeat you. He goes so far as to call you a coward if you refuse, and your pride is so great that you accept. And you win every damn time.

By the third week with Skye, he sneaks glances at you. And his companion wouldn't be a hunter if she couldn't tell when someone was distracted for something, or someone.

Mc is aromantic, her relationship is platonic with all the Li's, the fact that Sylus had interest in this woman was something. The leader of an illegal organization using a false identity out of interest in a woman who worked in a cafeteria? This was gold. She's always making sure Sylus doesn't screw up and hurt you, and even gives him advice. What's more, she manages to invite you to a card game and get your number under the guise of reserving tables on certain days. And she totally has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches Sylus take your number.

Skye reserves a table for every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, after sunset. Then it's Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and in a couple of months, he'll be there all six days your store is open. Even if he comes with Miss Hunter in the morning, at night he only comes with the intention of playing cards with you, when there are not many customers.

It was strange at first, but by the end, you find yourself enjoying it. He's kind, charming, handsome—the man is a gentleman.

Miss Hunter is interested in you, sometimes when she comes alone to relax, she questions if you are single and when you look at her she doesn't look at you, the walls becomes more interesting. You question the question and she just laughs, she's not fooling anyone. You're starting the speech about how she wasn't your type when she started explaining that she only wanted to know about you, because you were always alone. You pretend that it doesn't hurt to say that you're single and that you're not looking for anyone.

One day Skye arrives with a cat, It was raining and you didn't expect him to come even if he didn't cancel the reservation. The cat is small, weak, and sick. He tells you how he found it in a box in the rain, and you take it in your hands. Now it's your cat. He tells how he took him to the vet to get him checked out and tells you how his home is too dangerous for cats, full of aggressive dogs, so he wanted to leave him in your care.

Skye offers to pay for the future vet, which you refuse; you had the money. But he insists he wants to help you; after all, he was putting this cat in your care because he didn't know how to take care of one himself, His home wasn't suitable, and he didn't want to force the responsibility of a sick cat on you. You're moved, and instead, you ask him if, in case you can't take him to the vet at least because of work, he could be the one to take him there. He accepts with a charming smile.

So you and Skye share custody of this kitten. You sent her pictures of him every day, you arranged vet appointments, and Skye drove him back and forth, she flat-out refused to accept your money for the vet bills, and he always came back with treats for all the cats in your cafe.

Feelings develop, and you invite him to dinner. He's delighted and accepts. You go to a humble, warm, and cozy restaurant. He looks out of place, but it's an incredible evening.

Honestly, I don't know what the kissing scene would be like, nor the confession of feelings, but you and he formalize your relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend after a few dates.

Everything is happiness, you have a kind, gentlemanly man, and you are not ashamed to upload photos of him on the internet where everyone could see them.

When your apartment was broken into and you were powerless to defend yourself, you were kidnapped by a criminal gang you didn't know. You wake up gagged, tied up in a place that smelled horrible.

Needless to say, Sylus is furious.

The man had many enemies; he always knew the risks, but he convinced himself that your smile was worth it. Yes, Miss Hunter and he had a history, but that was another life, another story that ended horribly. Their attraction was physical, and even that blurred into shared interests. At first, it was curiosity, then, affection in this live. And he decided that this time he would love as much as he could, as he couldn't in her previous life. Sylus felt like everything was repeating itself when Luke and Kieran informed him that his enemies had sent a message.

Your photo, terrified, beaten, demanding a sum of money with many 0s, but none of that mattered to him.

That day Skye became Sylus for you. The man took to breaking bones. You were terrified, but mostly relieved.

He rescued you, took you to his mansion for two days, and cleaned you up. He told you everything from his heart, and said that if you wanted to end things there, he'd accept it.

It was a lot to process. And you asked for some time.

He drove from Zone N109 to your house, he drop you off at your front door. Miss Hunter is already waiting for you there. She hugs you, and before you say goodbye to Sylus, you give him a small smile.

"I'll save your usual table tomorrow."

[liyasbubblespace]

it’s quite ironic that sylus thinks of himself as bad luck because he’s not. for starters, his name stems from “man of forest” and it’s canon that when we resonated we made a plant alive

not only that but he helped grow whoever surrounded and cared for him

sorceress us was condemned and he gave us purpose to live again and follow our desire

main story us was almost killed and sylus swopped in to give us confidence/determination to go after our aether core

the twins were lab rats who didn’t know how long they had to live but sylus took them in and made them into a badass duo with a purpose in life

mephie because of sylus is always sprinting into action

like a forest, he stands tall and helps people grow into the potential he knew was there

[liyasbubblespace]

Fuck him man