monopersona

[monopersona]

Midnight Blues, Chapter 3: Cross the Bridge

Mona and Zayne finally confront the tension that lies between them. It's raw, it's soft, and it's hopeful.

Zayne x OC. Post-divorce, exes, parents, coworkers, angst and yearning. We are finally getting somewhere this time! 3.3k words.

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry for this late update. I wanted to work on the chapter last week after my weekend concert (Hope on the Stage was AMAZING!) but I got sick and am finally feeling good enough to revise my draft and post. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! We are finally making some progress here between our two beloved.

Previous chapter | You can read on ao3 here

There were people you outgrew, and then there were your ex-spouses.

Zayne used to tell himself Mona belonged in the first category. A fever dream of the past, messy but beautiful while it lasted. She was the girl he had kissed in library corners at eighteen. The woman he had married in a courthouse at twenty-two. The mother of his child who had once fit perfectly against him in the quiet of night when the world was locked away from their sanctuary. Someone he'd believed would be his forever, just because they were young and in love. Or maybe just young and impulsive. Hard to say.

Theoretically, they had outgrown each other. They were too young when they got together, and then they grew into people who no longer fit together. That was the narrative they agreed on. The responsible, adult conclusion after a thousand fights over nothing and everything. Their love, cracked and crumbling beneath the weight of parenthood, ambitions, the unraveling of their individual selves, and the strange loneliness that only sets in when the person beside you no longer feels like home. They had tried until there was nothing left to salvage.

And when they signed the papers, Zayne had told himself he was doing the right thing. So he started over.

Therapy. Journaling. Baking. Rebuilding his relationship with his parents, with himself. He took Amara to parks and museums on weekends, started attending his residents' presentations, made peace with the version of himself who used to fall asleep at the desk trying to be everything for everyone and failing Mona most of all. He let the silence teach him things he used to run from instead of a shield to cower.

He was finding himself again, in his own way, slowly and imperfectly. And he told himself that was enough.

But there was still that part of him—small, stubborn, half-feral—that yearned for her. A part in him that kept on whispering that maybe it wasn’t over. That maybe healing didn’t mean letting go. And maybe some things didn’t belong in the past.

He told himself daily it had been the right choice. That he should have tucked her away in some tidy box in his mind and tossed the key. And yet at thirty, there he remained: wedding ring on a chain beneath his scrubs, still using their hyphenated last name by force of habit, still catching himself at times thinking in terms of we when we no longer existed.

The divorce was supposed to be clean. They had promised each other that much. But Mona... Mona had grown roots so deep in his being that removing her would leave him forever hollow, even when he had worked so hard to find himself and enrich his life in his own companionship. Now he knew it had been just wishful thinking. He realized that some ties took time to sever. Or maybe they weren’t meant to be severed at all. He couldn’t decide which truth cut deeper.

Because when Mona had crashed her car last year, the hospital had called him first. When his Evol had spiraled in the on-call room, it had been her voice that anchored him, her hand on his forehead like she still had the right to care. It was frustrating enough that he was still latching on to her, but it hurt more that she would always downplay these incidents even before he could start thinking if there were any hidden meaning behind them or considered them trivial. And two weeks ago, she had come to his door in that damned midnight blue dress and…

He tried to tell himself it was just the effects of co-parenting. It was the trap of nostalgia mixed with the part of him that regretted how things went down back then. It shouldn't really mean anything.

But he had never believed that. Not in the quiet hours when memory became more real than the present. Not when he remembered everything about her better than he remembered how to breathe.

Two weeks.

Fourteen days of carefully coordinated schedules and text messages about Amara and nothing else. Fourteen days of Mona ensuring there was always a nurse or resident nearby when they crossed paths and a nanny to handle Amara’s drop-offs. Fourteen mornings of Zayne waking to the phantom scent of jasmine on his sheets, though he’d washed them twice.

For a man who had spent three years learning to live without her, two weeks of deliberate distance shouldn’t have felt unbearable. And yet.

He saw her now, across the hospital cafeteria, her hair swept into the same neat bun she wore for difficult consultations. She was laughing at something Dr. Chen said; a bright, unguarded laugh that once had been his. His coffee tasted bitter in his mouth.

The rational part of him knew he should respect her space. That night had been an anomaly, a slip born of nostalgia, alcohol, and that damned dress that had haunted his memory for years. They were divorced co-parents and colleagues. Nothing more.

But the part of him that still wore her ring on a chain beneath his scrubs knew better.

Because Mona hadn’t just fucked him that night. She had traced the new scar on his forearm with careful fingers, asked after his mother’s health in the soft voice she reserved for things that mattered. She had looked at him afterward with eyes no longer clouded by resentment. There had been something almost like peace there. Something that felt dangerously close to forgiveness.

And then, before sunrise, she had disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the whisper of her lips against his temple.

Now she was laughing with Dr. Chen like she hadn’t gutted him and left him standing in the ruins of his own desperation.

It was Greyson who dragged him back to the present, sliding into the seat across from him with a tray of what the cafeteria optimistically called lasagna.

"Earth to Dr. Zayne," he said, waving his fork. "You look like you just got dumped by a grant committee."

He forced a smile. "Just thinking about the Reynolds case."

His gaze followed his line of sight to where Mona stood, then flicked back to him. His expression softened, almost pitying.

"Right," he said quietly. "The Reynolds case."

Zayne changed the subject to his research project, and Greyson, to his credit, let him.

It was well past seven when he finished his rounds. The cardiology wing had quieted, the air filled only with the soft beeping of monitors and the shuffle of night nurses moving between rooms. He checked his phone: three texts from his mother about her sourdough starter, one from the sitter saying Amara was already asleep.

No messages from Mona.

He was halfway through replying to his mother when he felt it. That old, unmistakable pull. The awareness of her.

Mona stood at the end of the hall, still wrapped in her coat despite the warmth inside. There were no residents hovering nearby now, no nurses to serve as buffers. Just the two of them and three years of careful distance punctuated by one reckless night.

They stayed frozen like that, caught in some silent standoff. Then Zayne did the only thing he could. He walked towards her.

She didn’t move. Only straightened her shoulders, the way she always had when steeling herself for something painful. He had seen it before: before board exams, difficult surgeries, the day she told him she couldn’t stay married to him anymore.

"Dr. Li," she said, formal and clipped, as though professionalism might save them from the weight of the past.

"Dr. Amani," he replied, voice low.

A nurse passed, nodding at them politely. As soon as they were alone again, Mona exhaled.

"I should go," she said. "I have early rounds."

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Her gaze lifted to his, guarded and tired in a way that made something ache deep in his chest. Once, he would have known exactly what she was thinking. Now, she was a closed door he didn’t know how to knock on.

"I’ve been busy," she said.

"For two weeks?"

"Zayne—"

"Was it a mistake?" The words came out rough, urgent. "That night. Was it something you regret?"

The question hovered between them, fragile as glass. He watched her hands curl into fists at her sides, an old nervous habit from med school.

"No," she said finally, so quietly he almost missed it. "It wasn’t a mistake."

Something loosened in him, but it hurt too. Because if it hadn’t been a mistake—

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

She looked down at her hands, at the place where a ring had once lived. Sometimes he still thought he saw its ghost there, a faint mark against her skin.

"Because it wasn’t a mistake. And that complicates everything."

"Things were already complicated, Mona," he said, a rough edge creeping into his voice. "They’ve been complicated since the day we met."

A reluctant smile ghosted across her lips. "True. But we’re not kids anymore. We can’t just..." She made a vague gesture, frustration bleeding through the cracks in her careful composure.

"Can’t just what?"

"Fall back into old patterns because of one thing. We’ve both worked too hard to find ourselves again."

Her words landed with the heavy finality of truth. They had clawed their way toward stability, painfully and separately. Built lives out of the wreckage of what they had once been.

"I’m not asking for patterns," he said quietly. "I’m asking why you left without saying goodbye."

Her face softened, something raw slipping past the walls she had thrown up.

"Because I was afraid," she said.

"Of what?"

"Of how easy it would have been to stay."

The honesty of it hit him like a blow. He understood, he really did. How simple it would have been to wake beside her, to reach for her without thinking, to let muscle memory lead the way and try to rebuild everything they had.

Before he could find the words to answer, her pager beeped, shrill in the quiet.

She glanced down, her face flickering between regret and relief. "I have to go."

He nodded, stepping aside. But as she moved past him, he reached out, his hand brushing her wrist. She stilled.

"Have dinner with me," he pleaded. "See where we are now."

She hesitated, looking down at his fingers curled loosely around her wrist, then up into his face. He didn’t try to hide what he felt. Didn't know if he even could.

"Zayne..." she started, and he braced himself for her to pull away.

"You said it wasn’t a mistake," he said. "Let’s not treat it like one. Let’s just talk. About that night. About what it meant."

A long moment stretched between them, taut and trembling.

Then she nodded.

"Tomorrow," she said. "Bell’s Café on Willow. Seven."

"I'll be there."

She pulled gently from his grasp. Her pager shrieked again. She stepped back, eyes still holding his.

"I don’t know what this is," she said.

"Neither do I," he said softly. "But I think we should find out."

For a heartbeat longer, she stayed there, as if weighing some invisible scale. Then she turned and walked away, the soft squeak of her shoes on linoleum the only sound left behind.

Zayne leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. I could very well be the start of something new or simply a cleaner goodbye.

But for the first time in three years, something in his chest, something long dormant and aching, stirred to life.

Hope.

Bell’s Café on Willow Street was nestled between a bookstore and an artisanal bakery, far enough from the hospital that running into colleagues was unlikely. Zayne had arrived fifteen minutes early, an old habit from internship he never managed to break. Now he sat at a small corner table, fidgeting with sugar packets, arranging and rearranging them just to keep his hands busy. He wondered if she would even show.

He’d chosen a spot in the back, away from the windows. Not because he was hiding—though maybe a part of him was—but because Mona had always liked the quiet corners. She said she thought better with her back to a wall, something about feeling grounded, safer. One of the thousand small details he still carried with him, a memory that refused to fade.

The bell above the door chimed, and he didn’t need to look up to know it was her. He felt her before he saw her, a shift in the air that made his lungs work differently.

When he did glance up, she was scanning the room, her gaze landing on him with an unreadable expression.

Hair down. That was the first thing he noticed—dark curls falling past her shoulders instead of the polished up-dos she favored at work. The second was her dress, a deep teal that reminded him of the ocean on their honeymoon, water shifting in color under a changing sky. He wondered if she remembered too, or if he was the only one assigning meaning to something that might have been just a coincidence.

"Hi," she said, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Hi." He tried to steady himself, unsure of his hands, his posture, every carefully rehearsed line dissolving the moment she sat down.

He’d imagined this conversation a dozen different ways. Maybe they’d fall back into easy banter, or maybe it would be stiff and straightforward, dissecting the situation between them like a case study neither of them wanted to admit they were invested in. But now, with her right in front of him—close enough to see the tiny scar at her temple from that childhood fall, the one he used to kiss on sleepless nights—everything he had planned to say evaporated.

"I ordered you tea," he said, nodding toward the steaming cup on the table. "Jasmine with honey."

Her eyes flickered in surprise, something warm blooming there before she could tuck it away. "You remembered."

"I remember a lot of things."

A brief, uneasy silence settled between them. Around them, the soft clink of dishes and muted conversations filled the space, but it felt like a world away.

"You cut your hair," she said, breaking the quiet.

He ran a hand through the shorter strands, self-conscious. "Yeah. Easier to deal with during work."

"It suits you." A small smile tugged at her lips. "You look… different. Like you’ve grown into yourself."

The observation hit harder than it should have, something tender and sharp all at once. He cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. "You look good too. Different, but… good."

Different felt too small for what she was now. The Mona sitting across from him carried herself with a quiet certainty he hadn’t seen before—a softness that wasn’t weakness, a strength that wasn’t born from constantly having to prove herself. It was something earned, something she’d fought for. He wondered if she knew how much it suited her.

She wrapped her hands around the mug, breathing in the steam before taking a careful sip. "So," she said, her voice softer now, "this dinner."

"Yeah." He shifted in his seat. "I thought we should talk. About… everything."

Her fingers traced the handle of her cup, her gaze dropping. "We’re both adults, Zayne. What happened was… physical. Familiar. Something left over from who we were." Her tone was calm, almost dismissive, like she was trying to make it smaller than it had been.

"Is that all you think it was?" He couldn’t quite keep the edge from his voice.

"What else would it be?"

He held her gaze, refusing to let her hide behind practicality. "I don’t know, Mona. You tell me. Because you’re the one who came to my door."

A faint flush crept up her neck. "It was just a night."

"It was never just anything with you."

Silence fell between them again, heavier this time. He watched her shoulders tense, the way her fingers curled around the mug like she was holding onto something fragile.

The server arrived, a brief reprieve, and they ordered without glancing at the menu. Years of shared meals had carved those preferences into memory—her pasta with extra basil, his steak medium rare.

When they were alone again, she exhaled slowly. "It wasn’t a mistake. But it wasn’t a beginning either."

"Why not?"

Her eyes flicked up, something raw lingering just beneath the surface. "Because we burned everything down once. It was so bad, I didn't think there was anything left worth salvaging. I can’t… I won’t go back to that."

"I’m not asking you to go back." He leaned forward, his heart pounding in his throat. "I don’t want what we had. I want something different. Something… better."

She looked at him for a long time, like she was searching for cracks in his resolve. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not." His admitted. "None of this is easy. But when you showed up… it wasn’t just nostalgia or leftover feelings. It was you. And me. And the fact that after three years, I still—" He broke off, swallowing hard.

"Still what?" she asked softly.

"Still love you," he said. "Maybe differently than before. Maybe more carefully now. But I do."

Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but no words came.

"I know we can’t just pick up where we left off," he continued, voice steadier now. "We’re not the same people we were then. And maybe we’ll never fit the way we thought we should. But I want to know who you are now. I want to try, even if it’s slow, even if it’s messy. I want us. Whatever that looks like now."

Her eyes glistened, but she blinked the emotion back before it could spill over. "I spent so long trying to rebuild myself after everything fell apart," she said quietly. "Trying to figure out who I was without you. I don’t want to lose that again."

"You won’t." He was unsure if it would be met kindly, but he laid his hand on the table between them anyway, palm up. "I’m not here to take anything from you. I just want to be someone you can let in again. And maybe we can share our lives together while still staying true to who we are now."

She stared at his hand for a long time, her expression unreadable. He didn’t push, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, terrified that if he moved too fast it would all fall apart.

Finally, she slid her hand into his. Her fingers fit differently now, but the warmth was the same. It settled something deep inside him that had been restless for far too long.

"We go slow," she said, her voice steady but still soft. "No expectations. No falling back into old habits."

"Slow," he agreed, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. "No old habits."

"And if it doesn’t work?"

He met her gaze, his heart twisting at the vulnerability in her eyes. "Then we’ll know we tried. Really tried."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Outside, rain had begun to fall, soft and rhythmic against the windows. It reminded him of all the nights they used to lie awake, listening to storms, wrapped in each other without saying a word. Only this time, there was no rushing back to what once was. Only the quiet, tentative promise of something new.

"Where do we start?" she asked after a while, her fingers still tangled with his.

Zayne gave her a small, hopeful smile. "Right here. Wherever we are."

And for the first time in a long time, the space between them didn’t feel like a void. It felt like a beginning.

[monopersona]

Midnight Blues, Chapter 3: Cross the Bridge

Mona and Zayne finally confront the tension that lies between them. It's raw, it's soft, and it's hopeful.

Zayne x OC. Post-divorce, exes, parents, coworkers, angst and yearning. We are finally getting somewhere this time! 3.3k words.

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry for this late update. I wanted to work on the chapter last week after my weekend concert (Hope on the Stage was AMAZING!) but I got sick and am finally feeling good enough to revise my draft and post. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! We are finally making some progress here between our two beloved.

Previous chapter | You can read on ao3 here

There were people you outgrew, and then there were your ex-spouses.

Zayne used to tell himself Mona belonged in the first category. A fever dream of the past, messy but beautiful while it lasted. She was the girl he had kissed in library corners at eighteen. The woman he had married in a courthouse at twenty-two. The mother of his child who had once fit perfectly against him in the quiet of night when the world was locked away from their sanctuary. Someone he'd believed would be his forever, just because they were young and in love. Or maybe just young and impulsive. Hard to say.

Theoretically, they had outgrown each other. They were too young when they got together, and then they grew into people who no longer fit together. That was the narrative they agreed on. The responsible, adult conclusion after a thousand fights over nothing and everything. Their love, cracked and crumbling beneath the weight of parenthood, ambitions, the unraveling of their individual selves, and the strange loneliness that only sets in when the person beside you no longer feels like home. They had tried until there was nothing left to salvage.

And when they signed the papers, Zayne had told himself he was doing the right thing. So he started over.

Therapy. Journaling. Baking. Rebuilding his relationship with his parents, with himself. He took Amara to parks and museums on weekends, started attending his residents' presentations, made peace with the version of himself who used to fall asleep at the desk trying to be everything for everyone and failing Mona most of all. He let the silence teach him things he used to run from instead of a shield to cower.

He was finding himself again, in his own way, slowly and imperfectly. And he told himself that was enough.

But there was still that part of him—small, stubborn, half-feral—that yearned for her. A part in him that kept on whispering that maybe it wasn’t over. That maybe healing didn’t mean letting go. And maybe some things didn’t belong in the past.

He told himself daily it had been the right choice. That he should have tucked her away in some tidy box in his mind and tossed the key. And yet at thirty, there he remained: wedding ring on a chain beneath his scrubs, still using their hyphenated last name by force of habit, still catching himself at times thinking in terms of we when we no longer existed.

The divorce was supposed to be clean. They had promised each other that much. But Mona... Mona had grown roots so deep in his being that removing her would leave him forever hollow, even when he had worked so hard to find himself and enrich his life in his own companionship. Now he knew it had been just wishful thinking. He realized that some ties took time to sever. Or maybe they weren’t meant to be severed at all. He couldn’t decide which truth cut deeper.

Because when Mona had crashed her car last year, the hospital had called him first. When his Evol had spiraled in the on-call room, it had been her voice that anchored him, her hand on his forehead like she still had the right to care. It was frustrating enough that he was still latching on to her, but it hurt more that she would always downplay these incidents even before he could start thinking if there were any hidden meaning behind them or considered them trivial. And two weeks ago, she had come to his door in that damned midnight blue dress and…

He tried to tell himself it was just the effects of co-parenting. It was the trap of nostalgia mixed with the part of him that regretted how things went down back then. It shouldn't really mean anything.

But he had never believed that. Not in the quiet hours when memory became more real than the present. Not when he remembered everything about her better than he remembered how to breathe.

Two weeks.

Fourteen days of carefully coordinated schedules and text messages about Amara and nothing else. Fourteen days of Mona ensuring there was always a nurse or resident nearby when they crossed paths and a nanny to handle Amara’s drop-offs. Fourteen mornings of Zayne waking to the phantom scent of jasmine on his sheets, though he’d washed them twice.

For a man who had spent three years learning to live without her, two weeks of deliberate distance shouldn’t have felt unbearable. And yet.

He saw her now, across the hospital cafeteria, her hair swept into the same neat bun she wore for difficult consultations. She was laughing at something Dr. Chen said; a bright, unguarded laugh that once had been his. His coffee tasted bitter in his mouth.

The rational part of him knew he should respect her space. That night had been an anomaly, a slip born of nostalgia, alcohol, and that damned dress that had haunted his memory for years. They were divorced co-parents and colleagues. Nothing more.

But the part of him that still wore her ring on a chain beneath his scrubs knew better.

Because Mona hadn’t just fucked him that night. She had traced the new scar on his forearm with careful fingers, asked after his mother’s health in the soft voice she reserved for things that mattered. She had looked at him afterward with eyes no longer clouded by resentment. There had been something almost like peace there. Something that felt dangerously close to forgiveness.

And then, before sunrise, she had disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the whisper of her lips against his temple.

Now she was laughing with Dr. Chen like she hadn’t gutted him and left him standing in the ruins of his own desperation.

It was Greyson who dragged him back to the present, sliding into the seat across from him with a tray of what the cafeteria optimistically called lasagna.

"Earth to Dr. Zayne," he said, waving his fork. "You look like you just got dumped by a grant committee."

He forced a smile. "Just thinking about the Reynolds case."

His gaze followed his line of sight to where Mona stood, then flicked back to him. His expression softened, almost pitying.

"Right," he said quietly. "The Reynolds case."

Zayne changed the subject to his research project, and Greyson, to his credit, let him.

It was well past seven when he finished his rounds. The cardiology wing had quieted, the air filled only with the soft beeping of monitors and the shuffle of night nurses moving between rooms. He checked his phone: three texts from his mother about her sourdough starter, one from the sitter saying Amara was already asleep.

No messages from Mona.

He was halfway through replying to his mother when he felt it. That old, unmistakable pull. The awareness of her.

Mona stood at the end of the hall, still wrapped in her coat despite the warmth inside. There were no residents hovering nearby now, no nurses to serve as buffers. Just the two of them and three years of careful distance punctuated by one reckless night.

They stayed frozen like that, caught in some silent standoff. Then Zayne did the only thing he could. He walked towards her.

She didn’t move. Only straightened her shoulders, the way she always had when steeling herself for something painful. He had seen it before: before board exams, difficult surgeries, the day she told him she couldn’t stay married to him anymore.

"Dr. Li," she said, formal and clipped, as though professionalism might save them from the weight of the past.

"Dr. Amani," he replied, voice low.

A nurse passed, nodding at them politely. As soon as they were alone again, Mona exhaled.

"I should go," she said. "I have early rounds."

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Her gaze lifted to his, guarded and tired in a way that made something ache deep in his chest. Once, he would have known exactly what she was thinking. Now, she was a closed door he didn’t know how to knock on.

"I’ve been busy," she said.

"For two weeks?"

"Zayne—"

"Was it a mistake?" The words came out rough, urgent. "That night. Was it something you regret?"

The question hovered between them, fragile as glass. He watched her hands curl into fists at her sides, an old nervous habit from med school.

"No," she said finally, so quietly he almost missed it. "It wasn’t a mistake."

Something loosened in him, but it hurt too. Because if it hadn’t been a mistake—

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

She looked down at her hands, at the place where a ring had once lived. Sometimes he still thought he saw its ghost there, a faint mark against her skin.

"Because it wasn’t a mistake. And that complicates everything."

"Things were already complicated, Mona," he said, a rough edge creeping into his voice. "They’ve been complicated since the day we met."

A reluctant smile ghosted across her lips. "True. But we’re not kids anymore. We can’t just..." She made a vague gesture, frustration bleeding through the cracks in her careful composure.

"Can’t just what?"

"Fall back into old patterns because of one thing. We’ve both worked too hard to find ourselves again."

Her words landed with the heavy finality of truth. They had clawed their way toward stability, painfully and separately. Built lives out of the wreckage of what they had once been.

"I’m not asking for patterns," he said quietly. "I’m asking why you left without saying goodbye."

Her face softened, something raw slipping past the walls she had thrown up.

"Because I was afraid," she said.

"Of what?"

"Of how easy it would have been to stay."

The honesty of it hit him like a blow. He understood, he really did. How simple it would have been to wake beside her, to reach for her without thinking, to let muscle memory lead the way and try to rebuild everything they had.

Before he could find the words to answer, her pager beeped, shrill in the quiet.

She glanced down, her face flickering between regret and relief. "I have to go."

He nodded, stepping aside. But as she moved past him, he reached out, his hand brushing her wrist. She stilled.

"Have dinner with me," he pleaded. "See where we are now."

She hesitated, looking down at his fingers curled loosely around her wrist, then up into his face. He didn’t try to hide what he felt. Didn't know if he even could.

"Zayne..." she started, and he braced himself for her to pull away.

"You said it wasn’t a mistake," he said. "Let’s not treat it like one. Let’s just talk. About that night. About what it meant."

A long moment stretched between them, taut and trembling.

Then she nodded.

"Tomorrow," she said. "Bell’s Café on Willow. Seven."

"I'll be there."

She pulled gently from his grasp. Her pager shrieked again. She stepped back, eyes still holding his.

"I don’t know what this is," she said.

"Neither do I," he said softly. "But I think we should find out."

For a heartbeat longer, she stayed there, as if weighing some invisible scale. Then she turned and walked away, the soft squeak of her shoes on linoleum the only sound left behind.

Zayne leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. I could very well be the start of something new or simply a cleaner goodbye.

But for the first time in three years, something in his chest, something long dormant and aching, stirred to life.

Hope.

Bell’s Café on Willow Street was nestled between a bookstore and an artisanal bakery, far enough from the hospital that running into colleagues was unlikely. Zayne had arrived fifteen minutes early, an old habit from internship he never managed to break. Now he sat at a small corner table, fidgeting with sugar packets, arranging and rearranging them just to keep his hands busy. He wondered if she would even show.

He’d chosen a spot in the back, away from the windows. Not because he was hiding—though maybe a part of him was—but because Mona had always liked the quiet corners. She said she thought better with her back to a wall, something about feeling grounded, safer. One of the thousand small details he still carried with him, a memory that refused to fade.

The bell above the door chimed, and he didn’t need to look up to know it was her. He felt her before he saw her, a shift in the air that made his lungs work differently.

When he did glance up, she was scanning the room, her gaze landing on him with an unreadable expression.

Hair down. That was the first thing he noticed—dark curls falling past her shoulders instead of the polished up-dos she favored at work. The second was her dress, a deep teal that reminded him of the ocean on their honeymoon, water shifting in color under a changing sky. He wondered if she remembered too, or if he was the only one assigning meaning to something that might have been just a coincidence.

"Hi," she said, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Hi." He tried to steady himself, unsure of his hands, his posture, every carefully rehearsed line dissolving the moment she sat down.

He’d imagined this conversation a dozen different ways. Maybe they’d fall back into easy banter, or maybe it would be stiff and straightforward, dissecting the situation between them like a case study neither of them wanted to admit they were invested in. But now, with her right in front of him—close enough to see the tiny scar at her temple from that childhood fall, the one he used to kiss on sleepless nights—everything he had planned to say evaporated.

"I ordered you tea," he said, nodding toward the steaming cup on the table. "Jasmine with honey."

Her eyes flickered in surprise, something warm blooming there before she could tuck it away. "You remembered."

"I remember a lot of things."

A brief, uneasy silence settled between them. Around them, the soft clink of dishes and muted conversations filled the space, but it felt like a world away.

"You cut your hair," she said, breaking the quiet.

He ran a hand through the shorter strands, self-conscious. "Yeah. Easier to deal with during work."

"It suits you." A small smile tugged at her lips. "You look… different. Like you’ve grown into yourself."

The observation hit harder than it should have, something tender and sharp all at once. He cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. "You look good too. Different, but… good."

Different felt too small for what she was now. The Mona sitting across from him carried herself with a quiet certainty he hadn’t seen before—a softness that wasn’t weakness, a strength that wasn’t born from constantly having to prove herself. It was something earned, something she’d fought for. He wondered if she knew how much it suited her.

She wrapped her hands around the mug, breathing in the steam before taking a careful sip. "So," she said, her voice softer now, "this dinner."

"Yeah." He shifted in his seat. "I thought we should talk. About… everything."

Her fingers traced the handle of her cup, her gaze dropping. "We’re both adults, Zayne. What happened was… physical. Familiar. Something left over from who we were." Her tone was calm, almost dismissive, like she was trying to make it smaller than it had been.

"Is that all you think it was?" He couldn’t quite keep the edge from his voice.

"What else would it be?"

He held her gaze, refusing to let her hide behind practicality. "I don’t know, Mona. You tell me. Because you’re the one who came to my door."

A faint flush crept up her neck. "It was just a night."

"It was never just anything with you."

Silence fell between them again, heavier this time. He watched her shoulders tense, the way her fingers curled around the mug like she was holding onto something fragile.

The server arrived, a brief reprieve, and they ordered without glancing at the menu. Years of shared meals had carved those preferences into memory—her pasta with extra basil, his steak medium rare.

When they were alone again, she exhaled slowly. "It wasn’t a mistake. But it wasn’t a beginning either."

"Why not?"

Her eyes flicked up, something raw lingering just beneath the surface. "Because we burned everything down once. It was so bad, I didn't think there was anything left worth salvaging. I can’t… I won’t go back to that."

"I’m not asking you to go back." He leaned forward, his heart pounding in his throat. "I don’t want what we had. I want something different. Something… better."

She looked at him for a long time, like she was searching for cracks in his resolve. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not." His admitted. "None of this is easy. But when you showed up… it wasn’t just nostalgia or leftover feelings. It was you. And me. And the fact that after three years, I still—" He broke off, swallowing hard.

"Still what?" she asked softly.

"Still love you," he said. "Maybe differently than before. Maybe more carefully now. But I do."

Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but no words came.

"I know we can’t just pick up where we left off," he continued, voice steadier now. "We’re not the same people we were then. And maybe we’ll never fit the way we thought we should. But I want to know who you are now. I want to try, even if it’s slow, even if it’s messy. I want us. Whatever that looks like now."

Her eyes glistened, but she blinked the emotion back before it could spill over. "I spent so long trying to rebuild myself after everything fell apart," she said quietly. "Trying to figure out who I was without you. I don’t want to lose that again."

"You won’t." He was unsure if it would be met kindly, but he laid his hand on the table between them anyway, palm up. "I’m not here to take anything from you. I just want to be someone you can let in again. And maybe we can share our lives together while still staying true to who we are now."

She stared at his hand for a long time, her expression unreadable. He didn’t push, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, terrified that if he moved too fast it would all fall apart.

Finally, she slid her hand into his. Her fingers fit differently now, but the warmth was the same. It settled something deep inside him that had been restless for far too long.

"We go slow," she said, her voice steady but still soft. "No expectations. No falling back into old habits."

"Slow," he agreed, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. "No old habits."

"And if it doesn’t work?"

He met her gaze, his heart twisting at the vulnerability in her eyes. "Then we’ll know we tried. Really tried."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Outside, rain had begun to fall, soft and rhythmic against the windows. It reminded him of all the nights they used to lie awake, listening to storms, wrapped in each other without saying a word. Only this time, there was no rushing back to what once was. Only the quiet, tentative promise of something new.

"Where do we start?" she asked after a while, her fingers still tangled with his.

Zayne gave her a small, hopeful smile. "Right here. Wherever we are."

And for the first time in a long time, the space between them didn’t feel like a void. It felt like a beginning.

[monopersona]

Burdens We Carry

Guilt was Sylus’s first inheritance to his daughter. And even as the years healed what was broken, his devotion would always be tangled with penance, a debt he will never stop trying to repay. But when she finally becomes a mother herself, Sylus sees it at last: a lifetime of love, reflected back at him in its purest form.

Sylus x Named MC, but mostly Sylus & Aria. Emotional h/c and angst with a happy ending. We love dad!sylus and generational healing in this household! 1,786 words.

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm back with what is technically another (belated) Sylus birthday fic but angst times one hundred (with a happy ending!). I really enjoy writing about Sylus as a father and hopefully you enjoy this story. Happy reading!

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

Sylus sits alone in the nursery. It is three in the morning, and the house is quiet except for the faint sound of Aria's breathing as she sleeps in her crib. She's finally home after weeks in the hospital; tiny, fragile, but alive and safe. His daughter. The word feels foreign on his tongue. Heavy and almost undeserved.

It's his birthday. Thirty-two years of this lifetime, and he has never felt more unworthy of celebration.

He leans forward on the rocking chair, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together until his knuckles turn white. The guilt that has been his constant companion has never felt heavier than today. It sits steady on his shoulders, coils tighter with each passing second. In the stillness of the night where no one can hear him, he allows himself to remember the words he would never say aloud. The memory rises unfiltered and raw.

I resented you before you were born.

The admission burns in his chest. He has carried it alone throughout most of Lili's pregnancy, wrapped tight inside him, letting it suffocate him from the inside out. He has spent so many nights watching Lili struggle to breathe beside him, clutching at her chest while he sat helplessly by. Watched her body betray her a little more in different ways with each passing day. He remembers each and every time they sat in the hospital room, holding her hand as the doctors delivered increasingly grim updates.

The pregnancy is compromising her heart, one of them had told them like it was nothing, as if it could downplay the weight of what it meant. The potential outcomes. We will need to be prepared for difficult decisions.

They had offered Lili the option to terminate in the earlier months. Sylus himself had begged her to consider it, but Lili had been so insistent, as if she knew for sure that they were going to be alright. Meanwhile, all he could see at that time was a bleak future. One without Lili where he despised the human he, too, had created. And in those darkest moments, in the ugliest corners of his heart, the thought slithered in: This child is taking her away from me.

He runs a hand over his face, his fingers scraping over the rough stubble lining his jaw. He hasn't been able to sleep properly in months. To this day, every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is Lili on that hospital bed. Weak and helpless, bleeding and fighting for her life.

We're losing her, someone had said, and in that moment, Sylus made a choice he would never admit to anyone. Save her. Not the baby.

But the universe hadn't listened. It never asked for his input or his permission. It had taken both Lili and Aria to the brink of death and forced life back into both of them. One barely holding on and the other fighting for her first breath.

Sylus rises and makes his way toward the crib, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. He looks down at his daughter, her chest rising and falling in delicate, precarious breaths. The tiniest wisps of white hair, just like his, catch the night's glow.

"I didn't want you," he whispers into the stillness, the words cracked and raw. "For months, I dreaded your arrival. Every time she clutched her chest in pain, every time she couldn't catch her breath, I blamed you."

Aria stirs slightly, her fingers curling into a tiny fist, her brows furrowing before she settles again. Her features—so heartbreakingly like Lili's—soften in sleep.

"And then you were born," he continues, voice barely audible. "And she nearly died anyway."

The memory cuts through him. Lili's body wracked with seizures, her heart stuttering against impossible odds. The doctors pushing him away as they decided they needed to do a c-section to deliver the baby and then cut her chest open to save her. The extreme anxiety and hopelessness he had felt in that waiting room, wondering if he was minutes away from another tragic end to their story.

But he also remembers the nurse bringing him to the NICU, hours later when Lili was still in surgery. She had recommended skin-to-skin contact to help regulate Aria's temperature and breathing. He wanted to run away then, but for some reason he decided to follow the nurse's orders. When she placed the tiny bundle into his arms, he hadn't expected to feel anything but rage and disgust, but then she opened her eyes—Lili's eyes—and something inside him splintered and broke open. It was during that moment that he understood what it felt like to be instantly, irrevocably changed.

Sylus reaches down, tracing a line down Aria's cheek with the back of his fingers. "I'm sorry," he breathes. "I'm so sorry for every moment I wished you away." Gently, he lifts her from the crib, cradling her against his chest the way the nurses taught him. She weighs almost nothing, this small life that has already survived against impossible odds. Just like her mother.

He sinks back into the rocking chair, holding her against his heartbeat. She settles there, trusting him completely, unaware of his earlier betrayal. Sylus presses his lips to her downy hair, breathing her in. "I don't deserve either of you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "But I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you both."

"You don't have anything to make up for."

The soft voice from the doorway surprises him. Lili stands there, one hand braced against the frame for support. She's still weak, still recovering, but the warmth in her eyes is as strong as ever.

"You shouldn't be up," he says immediately, concern threading through his voice.

"I heard you talking." She moves slowly to his side, lowering herself to sit on the arm of the rocking chair. Her hand comes to rest on his shoulder, fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck the way she always has when the weight gets too much for him to bear alone. "I heard what you said."

Shame washes over him. "Lili—"

"No," she interrupts gently. "Listen to me." She reaches down to touch Aria's cheek, her smile soft and knowing. "What you felt... it wasn't wrong. You were scared. I know what you're thinking, but that's not something you need to punish yourself for."

He presses his forehead against her shoulder, breathing her in, Aria pressed safely between them. "I wished her away," he admits, the words torn from somewhere deep inside him. "What kind of father does that make me?"

"A human one," she answers, her voice steady with conviction. "But we're here now, Sylus. She's here."

Aria's fingers wrap tighter around his, and it feels like a forgiveness he doesn't deserve but will spend the rest of his life trying to earn anyway. He holds them both closer and lets the guilt live there too, silent and heavy. A ghost that would never leave, but one he could learn to carry.

"Happy birthday," Lili whispers against his temple, and he closes his eyes against the sting of tears.

He would love her without condition, without fail, without letting the darkness of his past touch her light for as long as he had breath left in his body, just as he had promised her that night on his birthday. But no matter how many years passed, no matter how tall she grew or how brightly she smiled, he would carry this guilt into old age. He would smile through it at her birthdays, her graduations, her wedding, every milestone she crossed, never letting her know that once, before she ever learned his name, he gave up on her.

When Kai was born, the weight was different. Lili's second pregnancy had gone smoothly. There were no emergency hospital stays, no breathless nights filled with prayers and whispered bargains to a god he barely believed in. When Sylus first held Kai in his arms, there was no guilt or fear. He doesn't love Kai more, nor does he love Aria less. But with Aria, despite Lili's words, the love had always been tangled with penance; a debt he will never stop trying to repay.

He would never let her feel it. Children deserved love without the burden of their parents' regrets. But in small ways, he would try to show her. Every laugh coaxed out of her. Every cry he soothed. Every night he tucked her in and sat by her side until her breathing evened out into dreams. Each moment was an offering, a sincere plea for forgiveness. He would love her until his soul would hopefully forget there had ever been a time he didn't. She would never know, and he is glad for that. Glad that she eventually grows into a woman whose heart is light enough to dance, to love, and to walk forward without the burden he chose to carry alone.

Years later, Sylus stands in the corner of a hospital room, the steady beep of monitors surrounding him in a familiarity he wishes he didn't recognize. But this time, there is no terror clawing at his chest. No helplessness, no prayers ripped raw from his throat. He watches in awe as Aria cradles her newborn daughter against her chest. She looks so much like Lili in this moment it makes his heart ache.

Sylus grips the back of a chair to steady himself, overwhelmed by the sight. He remembers, too vividly, the first time he held Aria, the way love and guilt had tangled themselves and drowned him. But now… now he sees Aria whole, unbroken, cradling a life she brought into the world without fear. And somehow, it feels like redemption. Like the forgiveness he never dared to ask for out loud finally being handed back to him.

He still carries the private ledger of past debts he can never fully erase, but it weighs less today. He breathes in slowly, feeling Lili's hand slip into his, grounding him, anchoring him in this perfect fleeting moment. Across the room, Aria looks up and meets his eyes, and she smiles—bright, effortless, free—and Sylus feels something inside him finally, finally let go.

On this birthday, decades after that night in the nursery, he receives the gift he never thought possible: the lightening of a burden he had believed would be his to carry forever. Here, in this hospital room with three generations together, he understands that love isn't just about carrying weight, it’s also about learning when to set it down.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what your thoughts are on this story. I'd love any feedback, as it helps me grow as a writer. Hope you have a great day/night wherever you are :D

[monopersona]

Birthday Interruptions

Sylus’s idea of a birthday used to involve ignoring the date entirely. Now it involves a fancy dinner, a watch with a hidden compass, two kids fighting over space metaphors, and a fever that cuts the night short. It’s chaotic. It’s imperfect. It’s his best birthday yet. Aria’s face filled the screen, all serious business. “Dad, I have a question about the universe that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Sylus x Named MC. Romantic fluff but also chaotic family dynamic, kind of lmao. Will I ever stop writing about Dad!Sylus? Neveeeer! 1,956 words.

A/N: And here it is, my late Sylus birthday piece! Happy birthday to my favorite dragon :D

You can read on ao3 here | Series master list here

Sylus had never been one for birthdays. Growing up, they passed like any other day—unmarked, unremarkable. He used to prefer it that way, finding comfort in the quiet, the forgettable. But then Lili came along, and birthdays slowly transformed from days of silence into soft rituals, miniature adventures wrapped in laughter and love.

Truth be told, Sylus hadn’t wanted anything special this year. Left to his own devices, the day would’ve slipped by unnoticed, and he wouldn’t have minded. But after almost thirteen years of marriage, Lili knew better than to let that happen.

“I booked us dinner at The Seasons in Linkon. The whole twelve-course,” she announced that morning, stealing a piece of baguette from his plate and pressing a kiss to his temple. “And I already booked a sitter, so don’t even try to use the kids as an excuse.”

Now, sitting across from her in the restaurant’s soft amber glow, Sylus found himself deeply, wordlessly grateful. Lili wore a green-emerald silk wrap dress, the fabric catching the light like water. Ruby earrings—his gift to her last year—glinted at her ears, and her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves. Her eyes lit up every time they landed on him.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, a smile teasing her lips as she studied the menu.

"I'm appreciating," he corrected, reaching across to brush his fingers against hers. "Thank you for this."

"For making you leave the house on your birthday?" Lili laughed. "Such a hardship."

The waiter had just poured their wine when Sylus's phone lit up. Lili's eyes met his, both of them recognizing the specific chime.

"That would be approximately..." Sylus checked his watch, "Forty-seven minutes without a kid interruption. Longer than I expected."

Lili raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to answer it?"

The device lit up again, insistent. Sylus sighed, already lifting it.

“They’ll just keep calling.”

Aria’s face filled the screen, all serious business. “Dad, I have a question about the universe that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Sylus's expression softened. "Is that so?"

"Kai said stars are just holes in the sky where heaven shines through. I told him that's scientifically inaccurate."

Behind Aria, Kai’s smaller face popped into view, eager to defend himself. "But Mrs. Elton at school said—"

"Mrs. Elton teaches kindergarten, not astrophysics," Aria countered with the supreme confidence of an eleven-year-old.

Sylus cleared his throat. "Stars are actually massive balls of burning gas, mostly hydrogen and helium—"

"See?" Aria turned triumphantly to her brother.

"—but," Sylus continued gently, "there's something beautiful about thinking of them as holes where heaven shines through, don't you think?"

Kai's face brightened while Aria looked mildly betrayed.

Lili leaned into frame. "Where's Ms. Tessa?" she asked, referring to their regular sitter.

“Making popcorn. She said we could watch one movie, but we couldn’t agree—”

“Robots!” Kai shouted.

“We’ve seen it seventeen times,” Aria groaned.

“How about Deepspace Explorers?” Lili offered. “Robots and scientifically accurate space.”

Both children considered this compromise with matching thoughtful expressions that made Sylus's chest tighten with fondness.

"We'll discuss," Aria finally declared with diplomatic gravity. "Happy birthday, Dad."

"Love you!" Kai added, blowing an enthusiastic kiss before the screen went dark.

As the call ended, Sylus set the phone down with a soft smile. “That went better than expected.”

"They lasted almost an hour," Lili agreed, raising her wine glass. "To small victories."

"To small victories," he agreed, clinking his glass against hers.

"Fifteen years," he said quietly. "Sometimes it feels like yesterday we met."

Lili smiled, swirling the drink in her hand. "And sometimes it feels like I've known you forever. But I guess I do." She took a sip, studying him over the rim. "Do you remember that disastrous first date?"

"The leaking ceiling wasn't part of my plan," he admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Neither was the fire alarm."

"But you handled it with such composure," she said, her eyes warm with the memory. "Most people would have been flustered or angry. You just... adapted."

"I wanted to impress you," he confessed, something vulnerable in his admission. "But you already knew that."

Lili reached across the table to take his hand. "I think what impressed me most wasn't your composure, it was when you finally laughed about it on our walk home. That's when I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That there was so much more to you than you let the world see." Her thumb traced patterns on his palm. "That I wanted to be the one you showed those parts to."

His fingers tightened around hers. "You're the only one who ever has. Well, you and the kids."

As the courses came and went, Lili eventually reached into her purse. "I have something for you," she said, producing a flat, elegantly wrapped box. "Happy birthday, my love."

Sylus accepted it with visible curiosity. He unwrapped it carefully to reveal a watch case. Inside was a timepiece of exquisite craftsmanship: sleek gold face with a brown leather strap, understated but unmistakably luxurious. It was classic, timeless, and from Lili. He loved it instantly.

“Turn it over,” she said.

He did. Inscribed on the back: For all our time. Past, present, future. My heart beats with yours. -L

Sylus stared at it for a long moment, his expression inscrutable to anyone who didn't know him as intimately as she did. But Lili saw the emotion in his eyes, the slight tightening of his jaw that signaled deep feeling.

"There's something else," she said. "Press the crown twice."

When he did, the watch face illuminated briefly, revealing a hidden feature beneath the gold. A tiny compass and locator.

"So you can always find your way back to me," she explained. "No matter where you are."

Sylus looked up at her then, and the raw emotion in his gaze made her breath catch. He removed his old watch and buckled the new one onto his wrist with the kind of care he usually reserved for delicate instruments and newborns. “It’s perfect,” he said, voice just rough enough to betray everything he felt.

They drifted through memories after that—through time. Lili’s laughter spilling across the table, Sylus’s quiet reflections, the map of their years unspooling between them. Thirteen years married next month.

“When did you know that this was it?” she asked, swirling the wine in her glass.

Sylus considered this, his expression thoughtful. “There wasn’t one moment,” he said. “You know I waited for you—for a long time. I would’ve accepted it if you never chose us. But one morning I woke up, looked at you sleeping beside me, and realized I couldn’t imagine a life without you in it. The thought felt... wrong. Like a missing piece.”

“For me, it was the hospital,” she said. “That heart scare. You didn’t leave for three days. Not even to change. You looked terrible.”

“Appreciated.”

“But you were there. Solid. Quiet. Unshakable. And I knew. Whatever happened, you were my person.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, fifteen years of shared history surrounding them like a warm embrace.

"Any regrets?" he asked eventually, his tone casual but his eyes watchful.

Lili didn't hesitate. "Not one. You?"

"Only the times I've hurt you," he said honestly. "Even unintentionally."

She squeezed his hand. "That's part of loving someone. The risk of hurt comes with the territory. But you've given me so much more joy than pain."

"I plan to keep that ratio heavily skewed in joy's favor," he promised.

The gentle moment was broken by ring of Lili's phone, but this time it wasn't a video call from the children. Tessa's name flashed urgently on the screen.

"Tessa? Is everything okay?" Lili answered, concern immediately evident in her voice.

"I'm so sorry to ruin your evening," the sitter said, her voice tight with worry. "Kai woke up about twenty minutes ago crying about his ear hurting, and now he's running a fever. I've tried the fever reducer you left, but it's climbing pretty fast. He's at 39.2 degrees now."

Sylus was already requesting the check before Tessa finished speaking. "We're on our way," he said. "Did you try the cold compress?"

"Yes, but he's asking for both of you. Aria's helping me keep him calm, but—"

"Tell him we'll be there in fifteen minutes," Lili said firmly. "Less if Sylus drives."

They made it home in twelve.

Kai's room was dimly lit by his small star projector, casting gentle blue and purple galaxies across the ceiling. The boy lay curled on his side, eyes glassy with fever and clutching his stuffed robot for dear life. Aria sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, reading aloud from one of her books about space exploration.

"Daddy," Kai whimpered when Sylus entered, arms immediately reaching up.

Sylus gathered him close, pressing his lips to his son's forehead to gauge the heat there. "I'm here, baby. Not feeling good, huh?"

Kai shook his head miserably against Sylus's chest. "My ear hurts."

Lili moved efficiently around them, checking his temperature again, administering medicine, and murmuring soft reassurances. Her fingers brushed against Sylus's as they worked in practiced tandem, a silent communication refined over years of parenting.

"Are you mad that I ruined your special dinner?" Kai asked, his voice small and scratchy.

"Not even a little bit," Sylus answered without hesitation. "Some things are more important."

"Like what?"

"Like you," Sylus said simply. "And Aria. And Mom. That's why birthdays matter at all."

From the doorway, Aria watched with a protective older sister's gaze. "I knew it was his ear again," she said to Lili. "He was pulling at it during the movie."

"Good observation," Lili acknowledged, brushing back Aria's hair and giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you for helping, baby."

By the time they had Kai settled with medication taking effect, it was well past midnight. Sylus's birthday had technically ended. Aria had eventually fallen asleep in her own bed, and Tessa had been thanked and sent home with extra compensation for the unexpected medical situation.

Sylus found Lili in the kitchen making herbal tea later on. "Some birthday," she said with a tired smile. "I had plans, you know. The kids would be well asleep and there was going to be dessert back at home that wasn't just... dessert."

He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her hair. "I'll consider that a rain check ," he murmured. "Besides, I got exactly what I wanted."

"A sick kid and cold soup?" she questioned with a laugh, leaning back against him.

"You," he said, turning her in his arms. "The kids. This life we've built. All of it—interruptions, fevers, science debates included."

Lili's eyes softened as she reached up to trace the lines at the corners of his eyes, signs of years of shared laughter. "Even when nothing goes according to plan?"

"Especially then," he confirmed.

Lili rose onto her toes to kiss him, soft and certain. "There's always next year for uninterrupted dinner," she whispered against his lips.

"I'm counting on at least three interruptions. Wouldn't feel like my birthday otherwise."

Later, with Kai nestled between them in their bed (his fever finally breaking but his need for closeness still acute), and Aria eventually finding her way to their room as well ("Just checking on Kai," she'd claimed, though they all knew better), Sylus found himself more content than any elaborate celebration could have made him.

Lili caught his eye over their children's sleeping forms, her hand finding his in the darkness.

"Happy birthday," she mouthed silently.

And despite everything—or perhaps because of it—it truly had been.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading and have a great day/night <3 -Nona

[monopersona]

Midnight Blues, Chapter 2: The Other Side

Zayne was the first thing she had ever wanted recklessly. She was always taught that desire should always be measured, tidy, and justifiable. That ambition is scripture and vulnerability is sin. It was all she had known. But Zayne? He made her greedy. He gave her the kind of love that burned bright and fast without ever stopping to consider the cost. The one where Mona looks back at her relationship

Zayne x OC. Post-divorce, exes, parents, coworkers, ANGST, a lot of reflection on this chapter.

A/N: Hi guys!! So I decided to continue Midnight Blues because the concept of Zayne and Mona would not leave my head. But I didn't just want to hastily post a follow up. This story needed care, and I wanted to make sure I did this right. If you read my other recent stories, you might know that writing is something I am just seriously picking up again, and this has been so far the most challenging idea to explore. I have toyed with this concept in four different formats, went back and forth between three main arcs, and here we are today. While I have not completed writing this story yet, I believe I have the big picture finally set to guide me there.

I also want to thank you so much for your feedback about my writing! Whether it's about Midnight Blues or my other fics, they really have become a motivator. In a way, you help me hold myself accountable to my writing goals, which is amazing. And in exchange, if I can provide you stories you like, that is good enough for me. Enjoy!

Previous chapter | You can read on ao3 here

Structure, precision, and strategy.

These three things weren’t just Mona’s values. They were the building blocks of her life. They pushed her to aim higher, move faster, and chase ambitions no matter the cost. That blueprint had been laid early in her life, mapped out by parents who loved her through excellence. Fortunately, Mona had the brilliance to match their expectations. Even as a child, she understood that excellence was a language people listened to, and achievement is a currency.

Medicine had been a breeze to conquer this way. The human body followed rules. Systems. Predictable consequences. Love, on the other hand, broke every law she had ever learned. There was no structure nor strategy that could come into play.

She and Zayne had met as the youngest in their batch in medical school. They were both prodigies. Too young, too brilliant, too fast. They were taught to dissect bodies before they even understood their own. In comparison, most of their peers had more years, more life, but not more pressure. They would never understand the aching loneliness of being the youngest in every room, always to be admired and dismissed in equal measure. Sparks did not draw the both of them together, but it was the quiet recognition of feeling out of place. Always a little too much, never truly belonging anywhere.

They had grown up quickly to get where they were, but they hadn’t finished growing yet. Maybe that’s what made the connection feel so sharp when it finally clicked; their youth was both armor and burden. A sweet, bitter common ground.

Zayne was quiet back then. Guarded in that way that looked like arrogance until you realized it was just survival. Mona ignored him for most of their first semester, though. Her grades were the only thing on her mind and she refused to let any distraction lead her to fumble. But one day, in the middle of a lecture, he muttered a deadpan joke under his breath. Something about the aorta or the jugular vein? She couldn't remember it now, but she laughed so hard she snorted. Professor Noah had scolded her, but Zayne just looked at her like he was glad someone had heard him. And that was all it took. Soon it was late nights at the library, caffeine-fueled rants, anatomy quizzes before class, shared dreams about what kind of doctors they would become. Somewhere in the blur of ambition and overachievement, they fell in love.

When she was twelve, Mona grew a love for embroidery. She would buy tools and flosses after school and learned to make flowers on her hold t-shirts from video tutorials. When she started getting really good at it, she embroidered her mother's handkerchief with violets all around. When her mother found out it took her a month to complete it, she chastised her.

"Don't waste your time on things that don't bring any benefits to your future."

"You shouldn't be dwelling on useless things."

"If anything, you could have used those hours to study."

The handkerchief was thrown away, and Mona cried silently in her room that night. Ever since then, she never had the courage to want anything for herself unless it was encouraged by her parents. Not even the little things. It was a miserable way to grow up, but it did bring her to where she was right now: an accomplished doctor, carefully molded by her ambitious parents. She can't tell if that was supposed to be liberating or suffocating.

Zayne was the first thing she had ever wanted recklessly. She was always taught that desire should always be measured, tidy, and justifiable. That ambition is scripture and vulnerability is sin. It was all she had known. But Zayne? He made her greedy. He gave her the kind of love that burned bright and fast without ever stopping to consider the cost. Neither of them had been prudent in love, but especially not Mona. And she didn't want to. Not for this one thing in her life that was her safe place. She loved him, and his love never made her shrink. He didn't just understand her ambitions; he matched it. For once, she didn’t have to soften herself to be wanted. She could be brilliant, relentless, and still feel seen. That kind of intimacy—when you're young enough—feels like a forever thing.

At twenty-two, they got married.

The ceremony was small. Just a few friends and polite (albeit wary) parents. Still, no one stopped them. Why would they? On paper, they were golden: top of their class, on the cusp of extraordinary careers, perfect on résumés and holiday cards alike. They were a match made for every ambitious Linkon parent's dream.

For Mona, it had felt less like a choice and more like fate. They were two stars caught in the same orbit that grew closer and closer until it inevitably collided. The problem with celestial collisions, of course, is the aftermath.

For a while, it was beautiful. They were building something together. They had a rhythm, parallel lives moving toward the same horizon. But they didn’t know themselves yet, and love without identity can only get you so far before your marriage started to feel like something created together, so much as something they survived.

Residency. Fellowships. Parenthood.

There was no room to pause. No time to breathe, let alone reflect. Just the next shift, the next case, the next tantrum. They triaged everything, even each other. Function kept them afloat, but there was no space left for softness. It didn't just happen suddenly; it was a slow moving erosion, chipping away at them little by little as time passed by without them realizing it until the damage became too much.

Amara was born when they were twenty-five. Holding her for the first time was the only moment Mona had ever felt time stop. She was perfect. And terrifying. And nothing had prepared her for how deeply she loved her.

Mona thought if she could just keep the ship afloat, they would eventually outlast the storm. She was wrong. They loved each other, yes, but their entire life had become urgent for so long that neither of them remembered how to simply sit in the same room and just be with each other.

They stopped being curious. Stopped asking each other the small, big questions. How are you? What do you need? They became excellent co-parents and efficient housemates, but as lovers? They were a hopeless case long before the papers were signed.

They were both problem-solvers, trained to fix what was broken. But feelings don’t behave like patients. They bled differently; in ways neither of them ever really knew how to handle. There was no textbook, no guide, no instruction on how to deal with them.

Mona had always been the type to swallow her grievances whole, mistaking silence for composure. But silence isn’t peace. Some part of her always kept score. And when things got hard, that part rose like a tide dragging old hurt to the surface, demanding retribution for wounds that were left to fester.

Zayne, in contrast, retreated when emotions grew complicated. He just... vanished. Turned inward when the words didn’t come, folding into silence like it might shelter him from the weight of unresolved issues bursting at the seams. Where Mona calculated, Zayne concealed. Two flawed defense mechanisms that left them stranded on opposite sides of the same silence.

“Every time I asked what was wrong, you said you were fine,” he told her once. Not in anger, but in resignation. “So I stopped asking.”

And it gutted her, because it was true. They were too alike in all the wrong ways. Brilliant. Proud. Terrified of needing too much. Neither of them knew how to lean on the other without feeling like they were failing. They had spent so long being exceptional that admitting they didn’t know how to be married was unbearable. It further destroyed her when she realized that both of them had turned into unrecognizable people. Zayne was no longer the inquisitive, cheeky, affectionate person he used to be, and Mona had lost her spark so much she felt like looking like a stranger in the mirror every time.

As Amara grew, their fractures widened. Her presence wasn’t the problem, though. If anything, she was their brightest light and the best part of them. But parenthood amplified every fault. Mona’s relentless standards became suffocating while Zayne’s guilt made him disappear into himself, and it was starting to clearly affect Amara. Her signs of upset and emotional distress whenever arguments happened were the first red flag that made them sit down with themselves. Their daughter became both salvation and reckoning.

Mona would find herself staring at their daughter's sleeping face some nights, tracing the slope of her nose as she whispered silent apologies with grief that weighted her heart. How had they create this perfect, wonderful, breathing thing together and somehow still lost each other?

Their end was death by a thousand cuts rather than one fatal blow: a forgotten anniversary, a birthday celebrated late, the evening she sat in their spotless kitchen, staring at the calendar where Date Night! had been crossed out for eleven weeks in a row.

Signing the divorce papers had been the most civilized thing they had done for each other. It was an act of mercy. Nevertheless, she cried when she got home. Not the graceful kind. The kind that locked your lungs, cracked your ribs, and left you with a headache that lasted for days.

“We didn’t fall out of love,” Zayne had said during one of their last arguments, voice cracking. “We just never stopped being kids playing house. And it got too much.”

And wasn’t that the cruelest truth? They had built a life together like children stacking blocks. No foundation, just the dizzying height of their ambitions and impulsivity. Mona had mistaken endurance for intimacy, had believed if she just worked harder and performed better, the fractures would seal themselves. She hadn’t realized Zayne was drowning too, his silence not indifference but a cry for help she had been too exhausted to hear.

And maybe that was the tragedy of it all: they did it all too soon. They tried to be everything for each other before they had figured out how to be anything on their own.

Prodigies, after all, are always praised for what they can do. Never for who they are.

After the divorce, Mona didn’t fall apart the way she thought she would.

The year after unfolded like a slow exhale of relief. For so long, she had sprinted toward every milestone: medical school at fourteen, marriage by twenty-two, motherhood at twenty-five, and chief of pediatrics before thirty; only to wake up one morning and realize she never paused to ask herself who she was outside of these titles. The unraveling of her marriage, as painful as it was, became the unexpected beginning of something else entirely: her own becoming.

There were nights when the silence in her apartment felt like a gnawing reminder of her failure, or when someone casually asking about Zayne's presence struck her like a blow to the ribs. But there were also mornings when she woke up and realized she could just be. Not someone’s wife. Not someone’s anchor. And certainly not someone trying to patch something long past mending. Just Mona. And that was a novelty she hadn’t known she craved.

So here she was at thirty, gradually learning the art of solitude. Not the hollow loneliness of those final years with Zayne, where they moved around each other like ghosts, but a quiet companionship with herself. The kind that felt like a rebirth.

She read novels she never had time for. Reconnected with old friends over wine and laughter that didn’t feel forced. She picked up embroidery again and started making little flowers on Amara's clothes. "Mama, you make the most beautiful flowers," she would tell her. And Mona would cry, not because she was sad, but because her daughter's words and appreciation for this once deemed stupid thing healed something in her. It gave her the courage to finally set firm boundaries with her parents. Not completely cutting them off, but keeping their contact at a minimal. The last straw for her had been when her father blamed her for her failed marriage, implying that if she had been capable enough, Zayne would have stayed. Today, those words would easily roll off her back. A testament to how far she had come.

She started buying herself flowers every Sunday. A small act that felt almost laughable, but it mattered to Mona. To choose beauty simply because she could, and not out of the expectation of having to always keep up with appearances. She even dated, briefly, a fellow pediatrician who made relationships feel like such a breeze. Something that was a contrast to what she was used to. They ended amicably after three months. The remarkable part wasn’t the breakup, but the realization that she could still choose like that. Not because she had to, not because the timeline demanded it, but because she wanted to. It reminded her of how she had once chosen Zayne. Not because he was convenient or approved, but because he was the first thing she allowed herself to want out loud. This time, though, the choosing came from a steadier place. Not a rebellion, not a rush of young defiance, but something gentler. Something like peace.

As for Zayne, he was changing too. They didn’t talk much beyond co-parenting and the occasional overlap at the hospital, but Mona noticed things. The way his shoulders no longer seemed perpetually braced for impact. The suspiciously perfect loaves of sourdough he started sending over with Amara, despite claiming to be a beginner. When he took Amara camping and sent a video, she watched it twice. It was unmistakably him, but softer somehow. There was a lightness in his laugh she hadn’t seen in years. It was like watching the man she used to love and someone entirely new, all at once.

And yet, for all their growth, the past still lingered like a thread neither of them could quite sever. It hummed beneath every shared smile over their daughter’s antics, every polite conversation that edged too close to something tender. A quiet, relentless ache for what was and what might have been. Because the truth was, you don’t just stop loving someone like that.

She told herself it's just the side effects of proximity. That sharing a child keeps you linked in strange, emotional ways and does things to the heart. That working at the same hospital only adds to the illusion. It shouldn't mean anything.

And then came the gala.

Mona hadn’t meant to wear that dress. She had worn it for herself, not anybody else. But when she looked in the mirror, something inside her went still. The memory hit hard and fast: the night she told him she was pregnant with Amara, and how, in hindsight, it felt like the beginning of the end. And when she caught Zayne staring—his gaze lingering just a moment too long—it sparked something warm, traitorous, and wholly uninvited in her chest.

It had been months since she really let herself look at him. But that night, there he was. Zayne, in a tuxedo, nursing a glass of whiskey—something he never did in all their years together, and he seemed to have the tolerance for it too, now—humoring conversations with people she knew he couldn’t possibly care about. When he saw her, his expression faltered for the briefest second. A tell that only someone who used to love him would notice. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the dress. But the way he looked at her—as if she were the only one in the room, as if he still knew her better than anyone—undid her.

Hours later, she was standing outside his door.

She didn’t plan to go. She hadn’t even texted. Her body just moved, guided by something buried under her skin since the day they signed those papers. Dormant all this time, now suddenly awake.

She didn’t know what she wanted coming to his apartment. And she certainly hadn't meant to kiss him. She just did.

Maybe it was the years of restraint collapsing. Maybe it was the way his fingers trembled slightly when he touched her face or how his voice cracked when he whispered her name. But when he kissed her—slow and aching—she knew. Some ties don’t burn out. They smolder. They wait.

It was not gentle. It was not careful. It was two people finally admitting that they were tired of pretending they hadn’t missed each other, even knowing very well they parted for the best.

After, she lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing beside her. It should have felt like a mistake. It should have felt reckless or selfish or confusing, but it didn’t. It felt like coming home to a place she didn't realize she had been aching for.

Still, she didn’t stay the night. She got dressed in the dark, pressed a kiss to his temple, and slipped out while he was deep in slumber.

Because as much as she wanted him—as much as something inside her screamed that this wasn’t finished—she was also afraid. Afraid that they would fall back into old patterns. Afraid that love, deep and devastating as theirs had been, still might not be enough.

In the backseat of a taxi, Mona pressed a hand to her racing heart. She wanted him. But she couldn’t go back if it meant losing herself again. Not this time. A/N: Thank you for reading, and I hope you a wonderful day/night wherever you are <3

[monopersona]

Certified Silverfox

When Sylus shows up for report cards in a black turtleneck and glasses, half the school loses its mind. Again. Aria wants to disappear. Her little brother laughs. Her mom finds it entertaining. Her dad? Just vibes, leaving chaos and thirst traps in his wake. A slice-of-life comedy with cool dad, PTA drama, and a marriage that still feels like flirting, years and two kids later.

Sylus x MC. Parenthood. Domestic fluff and semi-crack. Aria is a dramatic teenager and Kai is an admirer of his dad. 864 words.

A/N: Hi hi hi! 2 fics in one day because I am on a roll today. This idea came up last week and has been at the back of my mind so I couldn't help but write it. I hope you like this one!

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

Aria knew this was going to happen. She had begged her dad not to come pick up their report cards this semester. She was in eighth grade now, practically an adult. She could’ve handled it herself! She even practiced what she’d say to her and Kai's homeroom teachers (“So sorry, my parents had a last-minute emergency”), but no. Of course not. Because her dad had to roll up in his annoyingly sleek car, step out like he was about to go into a film set, and proceed to direct her personal nightmare.

The moment he walked toward the school in his black turtleneck, long coat, and rimless glasses, the vibe shifted. The whispers started immediately.

“Oh my god, is that Aria and Kai’s dad?”

“I hear he's, like, a big time CEO or something..."

“Is he single?!”

Aria groaned and sank low in her chair. She didn’t even want to look outside anymore. What was the point? She knew the PTA parents—many of whom are her friends’ moms—would suddenly discover a burning passion for “volunteering” whenever her dad was due to show up at school events. One even brought cupcakes “just because” and spent ten minutes asking about his skincare routine the last time the school held a family event. Which was rude, considering it was actually her mom’s. His wife!

Now he was again, striding through the school halls like he wasn’t single-handedly activating the thirst radar of every mom (and some dads) within five miles.

Kai, of course, thought it was the best day ever. But that’s because he’s only nine and stupid.

“Did you see Mr. Carter smile at Dad? He called him sir!” A starry-eyed Kai whispered as their dad shook hands with the principal like he owned the place. “He’s like a K-drama character. The mysterious CEO with a tragic past.”

“Shut up, Kai.” Aria hissed, dragging him down the back hallway to avoid the growing crowd of “casually loitering” moms and their very obvious phone cameras. “This is a disaster. I told him not to show up. I begged him!”

Kai just shrugged, completely unbothered. “He’s literally picking up our report cards. It’s not like he walked in shirtless or something.”

“That’s not helping,” Aria snapped, cheeks flaming. “I’m never showing my face again.”

Kai grinned. “He looks like he’s about to save the world and make it to our soccer game on time.”

Aria groaned louder. “Stop talking.”

Their dad, meanwhile, was busy being the human embodiment of cool dad energy, casually charming every school staff, saving her science teacher from tripping on spilled water, and picking up the report cards like he hadn’t just caused a minor school-wide heart attack.

By the time they got into the car, Aria had reached critical levels of secondhand embarrassment. She flung herself into the passenger seat and crossed her arms with a dramatic huff.

Sylus glanced at her. “Something wrong?”

“You know what you did.”

“I picked up your report card. And your science project. Which, by the way, smells like vinegar.”

“It’s a volcano. It’s supposed to.”

“Sure.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wore perfume.”

“I always wear perfume.”

“You’re the worst.”

Kai was already in the backseat, unwrapping a lollipop he got from the front office. Probably because Sylus smiled at Mrs. Finch. “She said I was polite,” Kai said proudly. “And that I look just like Dad.”

Aria muttered, “It’s already starting.”

When they got home, their mom was at the kitchen counter, scrolling through her tablet. Sylus handed her the folders.

“All done.”

She peeked inside, flipping through the grades while he grabbed a bottle of water and the kids headed for the couch.

“Nice work, both of you! Kai, you crushed math. And Aria, your social studies teacher says you’ve got ‘excellent leadership qualities.’”

Aria dropped her bag and sighed. “Mom, please. Don’t ever let Dad go to school again.”

Lili looked up with a perfectly innocent smile. “Why not? I heard he’s now officially known as the Certified Silverfox.”

Sylus choked mid-sip. “I’m sorry. The what?”

Aria spun around, horrified. “Mom!”

“What?” Lili blinked, the picture of fake innocence. “You’re the one who came home ranting about it last semester.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you should say it out loud!”

Kai, squinting, asked, “What’s a silverfox?”

Sylus just stood there, grinning like this was the best day of his life. Lili, smug as ever, leaned over and kissed his cheek. “It means the parents think your dad is handsome and distinguished.”

“I didn’t even talk to them,” Sylus said, sipping his water again. “Just said hello.”

“Exactly,” Aria groaned. “That’s the problem.”

Lili turned back to her tablet, unfazed. “Well, I happen to think I’ve got the best-looking man in the PTA.”

Kai nodded solemnly. “I hope I turn into a silverfox too.”

Aria buried her head in a cushion. “I need a new family.”

But later that night, curled up on the couch while her parents bickered softly in the kitchen about who actually bought the almond milk, she found herself smiling. Even if her dad was embarrassing. And, according to the tragically misguided people of her school, stupidly attractive. Ew.

[monopersona]

Midnight Blues

Years after their divorce, they still act like strangers despite the ties that bind them: parenthood and work. When she wears the blue velvet gown from one of their last happy memories to the hospital gala, Zayne realizes some fires never die. They just burn hotter in the dark. The one where they cave in. Just once.

Zayne x OC. Post-divorce, exes, parents, coworkers, ANGST, kind of implied smut? My goodness, they're a mess. 2023 words.

A/N: I'm back with a fic! I've always wanted to write about Zayne. But true to me being me, of course it had to be angsty. I do have a longer draft exploring their relationship over the years, which I may or may not eventually post (TBD although I've been neck deep in this one for the past week tbh lol), but for now I wanted to post a little something from that world. Enjoy!

You can read on ao3 here

Zayne didn’t want to be here.

Unfortunately, the board of directors had made it clear his presence was non-negotiable. He would have to endure a few hours of pretending to be agreeable, acting like he cared about the donors beyond their wallets. Part of the job, he reminded himself. Part of being chief.

The gala unfolded in predictable monotony: champagne flutes clinking under chandeliers, hollow laughter echoing through the hotel ballroom near the hospital. A snooze fest, according to Zayne. He had dressed in his black tuxedo with a cummerbund and bowtie, all dressed up to the nines for this. He made sure he looked the part: polished, prepared, and ready to coax a few donations out of deep pockets.  An hour in, and he was already dreading every second. Still, he forced himself to make conversation, smile when appropriate, nod like he was listening.

The old Zayne wouldn’t have entertained this kind of nonsense, but he wasn’t the same man he used to be. A lot had changed. One being the way he kept sipping the whiskey from his glass, a habit he’d picked up in the years since she left when he needed something to dull the ache.

And when the giant doors opened again, he felt her before he saw her.

Mona stepped into the room with a kind of grace only she carried. And for a moment, everything else—the live jazz band, the glittering chandeliers, the soft murmur of conversation—faded into an insignificant buzz.

She was midnight incarnate. That’s the only way Zayne could process it. Midnight in a gown cut from velvet, catching the light softly like night sky. Midnight blue, deep enough to drown in. The hem grazed the floor, but the slit rose high enough to reveal the curve of her thigh as she moved slow and deliberate, like she wasn’t trying to be seen but silenced the room anyway.

The sleeves clung to her arms down to her wrists. A string of pearls framed her collarbones, each one catching the light, resting just above the swell of her breasts. He tries not to look, but he can’t.

The back of her dress dipped low—too low, he thought—sliding down the length of her spine until it disappeared just above her hips. He remembered zipping that dress up once, fingers fumbling, her laughter warm in his ear. A reminder of better days.

Mona was stunning. Devastatingly so in the way only she could be: effortless, unbothered, barely trying. Her usual curls were pulled up into a sleek twist with a few soft strands escaping near her temple, her neck exposed and elegant. Her pearl earrings matched the necklace. Simple and classic.

He finds his eyes lowering to her dress again. It had fit her differently once. He remembered her frowning at her reflection, tugging at the fabric. “It’s a little loose,” she’d said. Now it hugged her like it had been made for this version of her. Not the girl he married at twenty-two, but the woman she had become now at thirty—grounded and full. 

The years had softened her in all the right places, and something primal twisted in his gut. Time hadn’t dulled her beauty, but it had deepened it significantly. And he hated himself for staring. For remembering what it felt like to touch her in that dress. To take it off. To lose her. But what he hated the most was how it pulled him straight back to five years ago, a memory he still treasured.

They were in a taxi on their way to a wedding reception, the air cold even inside the car, the city lights painting the windows in streaks of gold. Mona took his hand, intertwining their fingers together.

“I have something to tell you,” she said softly.

Zayne turned, expecting hospital gossip or a new study breakthrough. Instead, she pressed his palm to her stomach. He didn’t understand at first, but then she bit her lip, trying not to smile, and something inside him stilled.

“You’re pregnant?” he whispered. They had always talked about having children when they were older and maybe in their early thirties, but something about this moment... Zayne never felt more assured that it was the right timing.

She nodded. He immediately kissed her, overwhelmed with joy in the backseat of that taxi. The driver said nothing. The world kept moving. But for Zayne, time stopped.

He exhaled slowly, but it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. His fingers curled tighter around his glass. Too many memories. Too much.

Across the room, Mona stood with a champagne flute and a polite smile, listening to a man Zayne didn’t recognize. It didn’t matter (but it did). They ran into each other all the time at the hospital, even worked on many cases together. But something about tonight made him look at her a little different; the kind that didn't make him want to look away. All he could do was stare at her, his own guest long forgotten.

Her posture was more deliberate now. Shoulders squared, chin lifted, a smile edged with something practiced. Almost sharp. She wasn’t the same girl who kissed him in the rain outside their first apartment. Not the one who ran a soothing hand down his back when he couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t his anymore. Yet something in him stirred. Slow, familiar, and dangerous.

Mona’s back was pressed against their bedroom door, breath catching as the dress slipped to her hips. Zayne slid his hand beneath the velvet, his mouth tracing fire along her throat.

“Zayne,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders “You’re the one who wore this dress,” he murmured against her skin.

She laughed—bright, unguarded—her head tipping back. “Well, don’t ruin it.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’ll try.”

She smelled like jasmine. He breathed her in like home.

Across the ballroom, the man leaned in and said something that made Mona smile. Not a wide one, but the one he knew she made when she was trying to act like she wasn't impressed. Zayne knew that smile. The way she tilted her head slightly. How her eyes flicked down before meeting the other person’s again. It was the smile she used to give him.

Zayne finished his drink. It burned going down, but not enough.

He shouldn't have been watching her like this. Not like she still belonged to him, like every memory wasn’t already etched into the back of his mind like a scar he couldn’t stop picking at. But there she was, smiling like it never ached, like she hadn’t once screamed at him in the kitchen as their infant cried in his hold, hadn’t packed her things in silence while he sat on the floor and said nothing, hadn’t looked at him that last morning, eyes full of hurt, and said, “I can't do this anymore.”

He hated how easily she wore elegance now. You could never tell that she had once been the girl in his sweater falling asleep at the library table with a pen in her hand and three textbooks open beside her. Or the girl who was so overwhelmed the first time they had kissed he could feel heat radiate off of her. He hated that she looked happy, or at least composed. But Mona had always been good at tucking her emotions beneath the surface until they boiled over, and Zayne had been the one to learn that the hard way.

Her hand brushed the man’s arm. It was light and barely there. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it meant everything. He shouldn’t have cared, but he did.

And just when he was about to look away—when he told himself to stop and move on—Mona glanced up. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Her gaze didn’t widen. Her mouth didn’t twitch. She just looked at him, calm and unreadable, like they were strangers meeting for the first time.

Then she turned back to the man beside her, said something and smiled again. And Zayne felt his stomach sink. Because even now, after everything, he still selfishly wanted her to look at him like she used to.

He didn’t stay long after that. Made some excuse to the attending beside him; something about an early shift or prep rounds, though they both knew it was bullshit. He just needed to leave. Needed to stop looking at her like he was still hers to ruin.

He didn’t remember walking to his car. Just the cold night air, the thud of his shoes on pavement, and the weight in his chest that refused to lift. By the time he hit the freeway, lights streaking past in a blur, he told himself he’d outrun it.

But she knocked on his door sometime past midnight.

He almost didn’t answer. Just stood there, heart pounding, staring through the peephole. She was still in the same dress. Dark velvet adorning her curves, hair a little messier now, heels dangling from one hand. And her eyes, soft in the way they only were when she was about to lie beside him. Or when she was about to say goodbye for the day.

No pretense. No shield. Just Mona.

He let her in without a word.

They didn’t talk. Not with Amara sleeping quietly in the room next door. The last thing they wanted was to answer questions on why Mama was at Daddy’s house when she had already fallen comfortably into the pattern they had now, where every Wednesday she goes to Daddy’s house and every Sunday Mama picks her up from Daddy’s office, although her own was only a floor above in the same building. They didn’t speak about the man she’d been with, or the whiskey still clinging to his breath. She moved towards him slowly, like she expected him to stop her. But he didn’t.

When she kissed him—hesitant, then certain—it felt like coming up for air after drowning underwater too long. They didn’t sleep much. But they did, eventually. Bodies and hearts tangled in silence and regrets they couldn’t count, in a bed that was once too familiar. 

She had left before sunrise without a word. Only a soft kiss to his temple and one last lingering look before she headed for the door.

The next morning, Zayne returned to routine. He made sandwiches the way Amara liked them, packed her sketchbook, and double-checked that the bento boxes were ready for their picnic by the park.

He wasn’t thinking about the night before. Or at least, he tried not to. That was until Amara caught something in her hands.

“Daddy?”

He looked up from the lunchbox. She was held up his tuxedo jacket, bunched awkwardly in her small fists. “Why is this here?”

Zayne blinked. The jacket had been left draped over the sofa last night, discarded in the blur of frantic hands and breathless kisses and everything he didn’t want to explain.

He opened his mouth, but she was already pressing her nose into the fabric. “It smells really nice,” she said. “Like flowers.” His stomach turned.

Amara frowned thoughtfully, sniffing again. “Like jasmine. Did you go to Mama’s house?” 

Zayne stared at her. She was a carbon copy of him, save for Mona's thick lips and curly hair. He couldn't get past the innocent curiosity in her voice and the way she held the lapel like it held answers.

He swallowed and forced a smile.

“No, just a garden,” he lied.

Amara shrugged and dropped it back onto the couch. “You should put it in the laundry. There’s glitter on the top.”

The memory came again. Mona’s lipstick staining his tuxedo, trying to quiet her moans as his hands pleasured her like it was muscle memory.

He let out a quiet laugh, barely holding it together. “Yeah. Probably should.”

But he didn’t. He folded the jacket carefully, smoothing the crease down the front, and set it aside like it was a sacred relic. Like it meant more than it should.

Because maybe it still did.

A/N: And there we have it. Please do let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you'd like to read more healthy dynamics (lol) and love Sylus, check out my master list here. Have a great day/night, and thank you for reading!

[monopersona]

Sins of the Father

Known as the devil, loved by a saint, and father to miracles. He built his empire on blood and fire, but his legacy will not be the darkness—it will be the laughter of his children, the quiet sanctuary he shields from the world he ruled. Some call it redemption, but Sylus knows better. The past will always linger as a shadow that never truly fades, but neither does the light. He was never a good man, but he is a good father. And for them—for her—he will try to be better. A reflection of Sylus and his journey into fatherhood.

Sylus x Named MC. Family, fluff with a little darkness but mostly reflective. Sylus will forever be a doting father and husband I'm going to cry. 2380 words.

A/N: Heyyy it's Nona back with yet another Sylus fic. I have always wanted to write something that was a bit more reflective on how Sylus came to be a father and his journey as one. I kid you not, this took me 10 rewrites in over 2 weeks lol but I like how it turned out. Happy reading!

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

Sylus had long learned to live in two worlds.

He liked to see them as light and shadow. At home, he was a husband and father—a man who loved, doted on, and cared for his children with the love of his life. His family had become his beacon of light. It was the world where Lili stood beside him, where Aria’s laughter echoed through the hallways, where Kai’s small feet ran around the gardens without a care in the world.

When he wasn’t basking in that light, he lurked in the shadows—a path paved in blood and gold that he had built and refined over the years. One that demanded ruthlessness and precision. He had shaped it, and in turn, it had shaped him. Sylus loved the shadows, but as time passed, he had come to realize that he couldn’t live without his light.

Family had always been a foreign concept. It was something that seemed to belong to other people but never to someone like him. His childhood had been a harsh teacher, and the road he walked on was not one that allowed him to indulge in the illusions of a family. For a long time, Sylus had believed the shadows were all he would ever know. He simply believed he didn’t have the capacity to build a life beyond it.

But then he met Lili, and loving her had been the easiest thing he had ever done. There was no universe, no reality, in which he would deny her. Even then, she had never asked him to be anything other than himself. She made space for herself in his life but never demanded that he change.

Over the years, they built a life together—one that allowed them to exist in both their shared world and their individual ones. Sylus had no issue with this. Lili deserved to pursue her passions, and he would never make her give up anything she didn’t want to, so they made it work. But even after marrying her, he had never imagined himself as a father. He had come to realize later that it wasn’t that he didn’t think he was capable—it was that he had never allowed himself to want it.

And then came Aria.

Lili’s pregnancy had been a cruel one. Every month was a battle against the limits of her body—especially her heart. When she went into premature labor, Sylus had nearly lost both of them. He still remembered the blinding panic, the helplessness that clawed at his throat as he watched Lili fight for her life that day. He had known many kinds of fear in his life, but nothing compared to that moment.

In the end, they survived. And when Sylus held his daughter for the first time, something in him shifted.

He was struck by how fragile she was. She had thick white hair that was so much like his, Lili’s deep brown eyes that looked up at him in adoration, and tiny fists that clung to his fingers without hesitation—the pure, unwavering trust of someone who had never known cruelty. She was untouched by the darkness he had spent his life navigating. She was perfect, and she was his to protect. In that moment, he swore that no matter what it took, he would uphold his duty.

Sylus had always believed that sin was absolute. Once you stepped into the dark, there was no return to the light. Regret was useless; redemption was a lie. He had made his choices and had no illusions about what he was. But now, he had more than Lili to consider. Lili had walked into their relationship knowing the man he was, and it was a risk she had been willing to take. But Aria was innocent. She had never asked for this life, never chosen to be born to a father who had shadows that trailed his every step. And so, for the first time in his life, Sylus chose to draw a line between his two worlds.

Where the lines had once blurred between business and home, they became sharp and immovable. He restructured, built legitimate fronts, and eliminated dead weight. It took a while, but he meticulously planned and executed a system of protection so intricate that no enemy or ally could ever betray him without digging their own grave in the process. He wasn’t naïve, after all. Humans were predictable—easily broken by the right pressure if they hadn’t already been bought at the right price. He spent years ensuring there would be no loose ends (or lips). By the time Aria was old enough to enter preschool, there was nothing—nothing—that could tie her to his other life, even as they continued to exist side by side.

Four years after Aria, Lili and Sylus were blessed with Kai. His arrival only reinforced Sylus’s determination. He had already secured his family’s safety and future; Kai’s arrival simply proved that he had done the right thing. His empire remained, but his children would never inherit its sins.

Fatherhood was expressed not through grand promises but through his actions—through scraped knees bandaged with hands that once took lives, lunchboxes packed instead of ammos, parent-teacher conferences he went to with the same enthusiasm as protocore auctions. His presence became his promise. Over the years, Sylus had found that there was something sacred about the ordinary rituals that came with raising children. He would never trade that feeling—that purpose—for anything in the world.

Silent protection was a craft he had mastered. When you live in the world he did, expecting the worst out of people was not an unrealistic expectation. Lili watched in amusement as he twisted his paranoia into something a little more wholesome, a little more poetic. She saw the way he lingered outside Aria's door during sleepovers, counting breaths under the guise of adjusting the thermostat. Or how he taught Kai to throw punches not for violence but for confidence. His vigilance hid in plain sight—reinforced steel in the treehouse under the fairy lights, panic buttons behind crayon drawings, background checks disguised as small talk, daggers kept sharp beneath Aria and Kai’s floorboards, and of course there was also Mephisto. Despite all that, his children only knew tenderness. They found it in the way their father pretended not to see them during hide-and-seek, how he held them on nights when thunder and nightmares haunted them, or the way his stern expression always softened at the sight of them coming home from school.

And much as Sylus loved doting on his children, discipline in his household was always firm but never cruel. He had seen what fear could do to a child—had once been shaped by it himself—and had vowed his own would never flinch at the sound of his voice. When Aria tested her limits as a teenager, he held firm, kept his expectations clear, and made sure his patience remained unshaken. And when Kai, years later, confessed his self-doubt—worrying about his future and wondering if he could ever measure up to his father—Sylus simply ruffled his hair and told him, “You are your own person.”

Yet, for all his efforts to separate the worlds he balanced, there were nights when the weight of the darkness lingered too heavily. When things got too close. During these times, he would come back to the simple things—the sound of Lili’s voice calling his name, the laughter of his children echoing through the halls, the small, everyday moments that tethered him to the life he had built. They were his anchor.

Many years have passed since then. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means, but they made it. Eventually Aria went to university, Kai entered his final year of high school, Lili had moved up the ranks at the Association, and Sylus found himself growing older in a thousand ways. He had welcomed all these changes with open arms, even though sometimes he mourns how the time passes by so quickly. 

Tonight, he returned home from a meeting near Whitesand Bay (N109 was an area he rarely visited ever since the restructure. That was mostly Luke and Kieran’s thing now). The negotiations had been tense, but Sylus had left with what he wanted and no blood spilled. 

As he approached the door to his house, he felt the weight of his other world still clinging to him like a second skin he could never fully shed. The cold air bit at his face as he exhaled slowly, willing the remnants of the night to stay outside before he stepped in. 

The living room was warm and softly illuminated by golden light. It had been years since the house was filled with the chaotic energy of childhood—no scattered toys, no hurried footsteps echoing through the halls, no screaming or crying. But tonight, it felt alive again.

 “Surprise!” 

Sylus turned just in time to see Aria standing by the staircase with a big smile across her face. She had grown into a striking young woman, her sharp intellect and confidence evident in the way that she carried herself. Her usual long white hair was cropped short in a bob now, her features a mix of Lili’s softness and his own sharper edges. But all he could see was the tiny baby girl he held that day at the hospital. 

He didn’t ask why she was here. She never needed a reason to visit, after all. This will always be her home. Still, he raised a brow at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be drowning in law school assignments?” 

“I finished early,” she said, walking over to wrap her arms around him. “And I think I’m going to stay here for a week and just drive to classes. I missed home.” 

Sylus hugs his baby tighter, as if she’d disappear if he let his hold loose for just a second. “Well, home has missed you, too. Have you eaten?” 

Before Aria could respond, a groggy, mildly annoyed voice interrupted them. “What’s going on?” Kai trudged into the living room, his dark hair sticking up in every direction, crimson eyes heavy with sleep. He was already taller than Sylus at just eighteen. Leaner, but still growing into his frame. “Why is it so loud?” 

Aria squinted at her younger brother. “It’s eight in the evening, Kai. Normal people are awake.” 

“Normal people don’t have morning practice and exams.” He yawned before dropping onto the couch. “Hey, Dad.” 

Sylus nodded at him. “Have you eaten yet?” 

“Aria brought home food. It was really good.” 

“Yes, I did!” Aria leaned back from the hug just enough to grab her father’s hand and pull him to the dining area. “I got you and Mom’s favorite. Kai actually set it up earlier on the table.” 

Lili emerged from upstairs. She had aged as much as him, and he still burned for her just as much as he did when they were in their twenties—if not more. Seeing her now in a long dress that hugged the curves of her body just right and how she ran a hand through her brown and grey strands had him already thinking about what he’d like to do to her tonight. “Some things never really change,” she would say.

A knowing smile laid on her lips. She glanced at Sylus, reading him as easily as she always had. “Long day?” 

“Not more than usual.” 

She hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, she walked over and kissed his cheek before murmuring, “Go eat.” And so he did. 

Home.

It wasn’t a grand moment. There were no dramatic revelations, no intense declarations. Just this—his daughter’s unexpected visit, his son waking up late (or rather, going to sleep early and being disturbed), his wife still knowing him so well and seeing through him after all these years. The quiet assurance that they were all safe and loved. He cherished it.

Later, when the kids had settled—Aria chatting about her classes, Kai half-listening while scrolling on his phone—Sylus sat beside Lili on the balcony attached to their bedroom, his fingers brushing against hers. 

"You don’t have to carry everything alone,” she told him, voice soft in the dim light. 

“I’m not.” 

She let out a dry laugh, but there was no malice behind it. “You still think you can keep every threat at bay by the sheer force of will, huh?” 

He let out a quiet hum, his fingers absently tracing circles on her wrist. “And you think I can’t?” 

Lili sighed, but there was no frustration in it. “That’s not the point.” She wasn’t asking him to change. She never had. Instead, she squeezed his hand and murmured, “Just remember that I’m here for you. Whatever it is. I think we’ve been through it all almost thirty years running by now.” 

Sylus closed his eyes. “I know.” And he did. He didn’t know what he did to deserve it, but he was grateful nonetheless. “Thank you.” Some nights, he still patrolled the empty halls—fingertips tracing the doorframes where height marks chronicled childhoods that passed by in the blink of an eye. Another realization that came to be was that the real test of fatherhood came in restraint. Watching Aria inherit his temper but not his ruthlessness, seeing Kai make choices he wouldn’t, and choosing not to interfere when the consequences were manageable. They had to live their lives, and so he allows them their own learning curve as they navigated the world in a way only the know how. As long as it didn’t put them in real danger, that is. In their independence, he found his greatest victory: they feared nothing, especially not him. And when they will eventually ask about his past? He will tell them truths carefully measured—not to burden, not to expose them to a darker world, but to remind them how far he had come for them. Some would call the life he lived some sort of redemption. Sylus didn’t believe in such things. But he did believe in one thing: Aria and Kai would never walk his path. choAnd that was all that mattered.

A/N: What did you think of it? Let me know! I say this a lot lately but as someone who's trying to get back into writing, any feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day/night!

[monopersona]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP82bH5fL/ lowkey this is Sylus and mc

LMAOOO the way he is unfazed is taking me out. Yeah, this is definitely Sylus and MC. I'd also say that Sylus eventually would just relent and entertain her shenanigans since there's no escaping

[monopersona]

Slip of the Tongue

"Let me take care of you." They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And then the words just slip out of her mouth. The one where she accidentally says I love you.

Sylus x MC (Lili). Fluff, mild emotional h/c, Sylus taking care of his stubborn injured girlfriend because he really loves her or whatever. 2224 words. A/N: Hello! I am back with another Sylus fic. Not going to lie, this one took a few rewrites. The emotional aspect from MC/Lili's part felt more challenging for me to explore now that I'm just dipping my toes back into writing after a while. But that's why we practice, right? Hope you enjoy this one!

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

It had been a long day. A skirmish with wanderers near the N109 Zone had left Lili sore and exhausted. To make matters worse, she’d sprained her ankle so severely that she was now confined to a walking boot for the next two weeks. The doctor had excused her from work, too, which only added to her frustration. She hated being sidelined. It made her feel useless. 

By the time she stumbled through her apartment door, all she wanted was to collapse and forget the day had ever happened. She plopped onto her couch, not bothering to do anything else. Her stomach grumbled in protest, but the thought of cooking seemed unbearable after today’s ordeal. She decided she could hold off until morning—at least until she woke up and felt any better.

It was eight at night when the doorbell rang and jolted her awake. Lili groaned, her body protesting as she slowly sat up. She was groggy, starving, and still in pain. Perhaps delaying food hadn’t been the best idea after all. Still, she needed to get to the door because whoever was out front rang the bell again.

“One minute,” she called out, wincing as she limped her way to the door. 

“Hello, sweetie.”

Of course, it was Sylus. Dressed in his biker jacket over a black shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly charming. And of course, he was holding a bag from her favorite restaurant—the very one she’d been craving all week but hadn’t had the time nor energy to visit.

Lili could feel her heart skip a beat, but she was too tired to muster more than a weak smile and a meek, “Hi.” 

Sylus’s sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in her disheveled appearance, the walking boot, and obvious signs of fatigue. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“A little birdie told me you got injured,” he said, his tone light but laced with concern as he made his way to the kitchen counter. “I had to see for myself because someone hasn’t been answering my calls or texts.” 

Though his words were teasing, Lili felt guilt gnawing at her. “I’m sorry, Sylus. I came home and passed out on the couch. I didn’t even hear my phone.” 

Sylus hummed in acknowledgment, his smile softening as he pulled out containers of soup from the bag. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not here to chastise you. I was worried, but I get it—you’re exhausted. Let me take care of you. Sit down.” 

Lili opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a finger. “No arguments. Sit. Rest.”

She hesitated, her pride in active battle with her need for comfort right now because all she wanted to do was curl under a blanket and cry, but even doing that would be too much of a chore right now. “I can handle myself, you know,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. Sylus raised an eyebrow at her as he transferred the soup into a bowl.

“Of course you can,” Sylus said smoothly, carrying the bowl of soup to her along with a spoon. It was still steaming hot, much to Lili’s delight. “But I’m here, and I’d like to do it for you. Humor me.” When he finally joined her, he held a spoonful of the soup to her lips. 

Lili couldn’t help but squint at him. “You do know it’s my ankle that’s injured and not my arms, right?” 

“I can definitely see that.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “So you just like feeding people?”

“I like taking care of you.” 

Lili’s breath caught. The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, without hesitation—left her with a fleeting feeling she can’t really describe, but it’s one she has felt many times under his gaze. She wanted to resist. She wanted to insist she didn’t need doting on, but truthfully, she was too drained to fight him on it. So she rolled her eyes but complied, letting him feed her. The soup was warm and comforting, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered between sips. 

“So you tell me often. Yet here you are, letting me feed you,” he shot back, grinning. She couldn’t argue with that. 

Sylus fed her spoonfuls of soup, teasing her when she tried to insist she could hold the spoon herself every now and then.

Once Lili had finished the soup, Sylus set the empty bowl aside and turned his attention back to her. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Lili blinked. "What?"

He stood up, offering his hand. "You’ve been knocked out all day, and you probably feel dirty. I’ll help you bathe and change into fresh clothes."

Heat flooded up Lili’s face again. “I can manage, you know!”

"I know you can. But it’s easier with help and you’re exhausted.” 

“It's... weird." 

Lili hesitated. The proposal felt entirely embarrassing, but there is also the undeniable truth that she really did feel gross. Still, the idea of Sylus helping her bathe made her stomach twist with nervousness. Lili had never been shy with Sylus for the most part. They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability, stripped down not just physically but emotionally, too. Maybe that was why she hesitated. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he stated, and that should’ve made it easier. It didn’t. If anything, it made her feel more exposed. Because this wasn’t about what he would see, this was about how she felt.

Lili’s eyes widened and she swatted his arm lightly. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “I’ll be a gentleman and I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, but just know I’m here to help if you want it.” That also didn’t make it less embarrassing, but she knew she needed to get this over with anyway. So she finally decided to let him help her to the bathroom.

True to his word, Sylus was gentle and efficient. He helped her take off her walking boot and undress with ease; never lingering too long, never making her feel anything less than safe. His touch was steady and firm where it needed to be as he guided her into the warm water. Lili’s face burned the entire time, but Sylus remained unfazed, even playfully flicking water at her when she got too quiet.

"You’re overthinking again," he mused, rinsing out the last bits of shampoo from her hair.

"Am not," she mumbled.

"You scrunch your nose when you do. It’s cute."

Lili groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Sylus, please." She wished she could just drown in the water right now and teleport to another room. 

"Alright, alright, I’ll behave," he teased, helping her out and wrapping her in a fluffy towel. Once she was dried off, he put on her walking boot and handed her a fresh set of clothes before turning around while she changed.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed and feeling almost human again, Sylus looked her over with a satisfied nod. "Much better. Now, let's get you comfortable in bed.”

Sylus made her a cup of tea, fluffed the pillows behind her, and draped a blanket over her legs. He even propped her injured ankle on a cushion, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. 

“You don’t have to do all this."

“I know,” Sylus replied, sitting beside her. “But I want to. You’d do the same for me.” 

Lili swallowed. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She wanted to argue, to push him away with some dry remark about not needing a babysitter or distract herself with some back and forth banter. But the truth was, she didn’t want him to leave her side.

She was used to handling things alone. Taking care of herself, picking herself up when she fell, gritting through pain until it dulled into something she could manage. She was strong—she had to be. Especially after her grandmother died. But having Sylus here with nothing but warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his touch, that strength wavered. Not in a way that made her feel weak, but in a way that made her realize she didn’t have to carry everything alone.

It was strange, this feeling. Allowing herself to be cared for, knowing she was safe enough to let her guard down. But it wasn’t bad. In fact, it felt good. Comfortable. Like something she had been denying herself for far too long. She finally exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders loosen. She will accept this. She will choose to lean on him.

They spent the next few hours talking—about her injury, his day, and everything in between. At some point, they went on to play a few competitive rounds of kitty cards, with Lili coming out as the champion each time. 

By the time midnight rolled around, Sylus knew he had to head home. Lili insisted on seeing him to the door despite his protests. 

“You should be resting.”

“I’ve been resting all night, thanks to you,” she replied, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ll be fine. Besides, someone has to lock the door.” 

They stood there, the air between them charged. Lili crossed her arms loosely over her chest, a soft smile playing on her lips. Meanwhile, Sylus lingered, a hand in his pocket as the other held on to the jacket he took off hours ago. She knew he was reluctant to go. She didn’t want him to go, either. But she didn't know how to say it.

“Thank you for tonight,” Lili said. “I had a great time.” 

“Me too,” Sylus replied, his eyes holding hers. “I’ll see you soon?” 

Lili nodded, her smile widening. “Definitely.” There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with words left unsaid. 

“Good night, Lili.”

“Good night, Sylus.”

He turned to leave, and that’s when it happened. 

“I love you,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. 

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. Sylus stopped in his tracks, his back still to her, and Lili’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she’d just said. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, the mortification that had melted away hours ago coming back in full force again. Without another word, she slammed the door shut, leaning against it as her heart raced too much for her liking. What did I just do? she thought, pressing her hands to her face. Why did I say that?!

Outside, Sylus stood frozen. I love you. His mind replayed her words over and over. A small smile spread across his face. He had known for a long time that he loved her—had known it since the first moment he saw her, even when she’d hated him. He knew it in the way his chest tightened when she smiled, in the way he found himself thinking about her even when she wasn’t around. He had just been waiting for her to be ready. And now, it seemed that she was. Even if she only realized it at this very moment.

Without thinking, he turned back to the door and knocked knowing well that she was still behind the door. Lili’s heart nearly stopped at the sound. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Maybe if I just pretend I’m not here…

The knock was heard again, more insistent this time. With a groan, Lili opened the door just a crack, her face peeking out the tiniest bit as she kept her gaze downward. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Yes?” she said, her voice higher-pitched than usual. 

Sylus didn’t say a word. He simply pushed the door open gently, stepped inside, and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could protest, he captures her lips in a kiss. He poured his heart into it—into her. Deeply. Passionately. Lovingly. He would leave no room for doubt. 

Lili’s mind went blank, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as she kissed him back with the same fiery intensity. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. 

“I love you, too,” Sylus said, his voice rough but steady. 

Lili blinked up at him, so relieved but also still in shock. “You… you do?” 

He nodded, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I do. I always have. Have I ever made you feel otherwise?” 

A slow smile spread across her face, the embarrassment finally melting away once again. “Well, no.” 

Sylus chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.” 

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other, before Sylus spoke again. “I’m staying here tonight, if you don’t mind.” 

Lili looked at him with the softest of smiles. “I don’t mind at all.” A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic and are having a great day/night! Please feel free to let me know what you thought of the fic. I'd love any constructive feedback!

[monopersona]

Sweet Dreams

Sixteen years was a long time to love someone. Somehow, for them, it still felt like a beginning.

Sylus x MC (Lili). Implied sexual content, but fluff at its core. 951 words.

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

Sixteen years was a long time to love someone. Somehow, for Lili and Sylus, it still felt like a beginning.

The years had softened some edges and sharpened others. Their bodies had changed, their minds carried the weight of time, and their relationship had evolved into something neither of them had thought possible. And yet, they remained the same in all the ways that mattered.

It was a quiet night, the buzz of Linkon City’s outskirts barely audible beyond Sylus’s study. The air was thick with the lingering warmth from the day, but the breeze drifting through the open window was cool against Lili’s skin. She sat in the reading nook by the windowsill, scribbling her latest reflections on her worn but beloved notebook. She was waiting for the time to pass until her husband arrived. He had promised to come home early tonight—well, earlier than usual, anyway.

Then she heard it: the front door opening, followed by a deep sigh that could only belong to him. Her breath stilled, fingers pausing on the edge of the page. She listened as his slow footsteps moved through the house. They were deliberate and familiar. First, he checked on Aria; the creak of her door barely audible as he peered inside. Then it was Kai’s room. And finally, he entered their bedroom by the end of the hall. He lingered for a moment before realizing she wasn’t there. A short silence followed before his footsteps made their way closer to her. The door of the study finally clicked open, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe—his silhouette outlined by the dim lights of the hall.

“You made it just in time,” Lili quipped, eyes still on her notebook as she continued writing. “I almost went to bed without you.”

With a soft chuckle, he glided across the room, carrying with him the chill of rain and lingering embers of a life he kept far from their sanctuary. Every time Sylus came home, he shed the weight of that world at the door—leaving only the man who belonged entirely to her in the quiet hours when their children lay safe in slumber and the rest of the world had faded away. Still, on nights like this, Lili could see the exhaustion settling over him. He wasn’t twenty-eight anymore, after all.

Sylus kneeled in front of her, pressing a kiss to the skin left bare by the hem of her nightgown as his hands found their place against her legs. His thumbs brushed over her in a way that made her feel light and sent shivers down her spine. Yet somehow the fleeting sensation didn’t leave her feeling adrift. Quite the opposite—the weight of his presence always anchored her. His quiet reverence was something she would never tire of.

Lili set her notebook aside and cupped her husband’s face. Her fingers pressed into the sharp lines of his jaw, brushing over the faint scratch of stubble beneath her palms. Sixteen years had passed, and he still looked at her like she was the first fire after a harsh winter.

“Long night?” she murmured, though she already knew the answer.

Sylus only hummed in response, leaning into her touch. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. Over the years, she had come to realize that she, too, was his anchor. So she let him soak her in. 

Then, without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms. She let out a quiet gasp before leaning against him, trusting him to take her wherever he pleased. They ended up in their bedroom, where he laid her down with deliberate gentleness, pressing his forehead to hers, his body a familiar warmth against her own.

There was no rush between them. Sixteen years had stripped away any need for urgency. Sylus moved like he knew every inch of her—every place where she melted, every shiver and sound he could pull from her with nothing more than his fingertips.

The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the moon catching the chain around her neck. It was a gift from him for their 10th anniversary—one of many. And he was pleased to see how it looked against her skin. He had draped her in wealth over the years, but nothing shined as brightly as the way she looked at him right now.

“You should never sleep alone,” he murmured, voice low and rough. She never had to. Not when he had spent every night of their life together bringing her home in every sense of the word, one way or another.

Lili pressed her lips to his as he moved against her, slow and lingering—a reminder of all the nights they had spent learning each other and all the mornings that had followed. Sixteen years of building spaces for one another within themselves, of carving out rooms in their hearts where only they belonged.

Their love was one that endured and thrived—a love that had withstood time and every storm life had thrown their way, never fading out. It was a love that had changed them, shaped them, made them better people, lovers, and parents.

And as the night stretched on, Sylus knew without a doubt that he would love her like this for the rest of his life. Because if there was one thing he had learned in sixteen years, it was that Lili and the family they had built were the only home he had ever needed.

A/N: Writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet! I love these characters so much and I hope you loved the fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. And yes, this fic was heavily inspired by Sweet Dreams the song. I can't get it out of my head lol

Please let me know what you thought about it; any feedback is much appreciated as I dip my toes back into writing.

I hope you all have a great day/night wherever you may be :D

If you are a reader on ao3, please consider giving this a kudos and leaving me your thoughts! They're very much appreciated <3

[monopersona]

Dragon Queen

Aria noticed her little brother out of the corner of her eye and frowned. “Kai, you can’t be the Dragon Queen too! There’s only one Dragon Queen, and that’s me!” Sylus's son wants to do everything his big sister does, much to Sylus's amusement.

Married + Parents Sylus x MC (Lili), Baby Aria and Kai :D, family, domestic fluff. 1034 words.

A/N: I had some fics lined up but this one just came to mind and I couldn't resist writing it. Enjoy!

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

Kai was always a quiet child.

Where Aria burned bright throughout every space she occupied, Kai lingered in the spaces she left behind. It had always been this way.

At three years old, he followed her everywhere. If Aria ran, Kai ran. If Aria climbed, Kai climbed. If Aria jumped, Kai jumped—even if his legs were too short to make it as far as hers. He never complained nor whined when he stumbled or fell behind. He just picked himself up and kept moving forward, chasing after his sister.

Aria, for all her fiery energy, had little patience for a shadow.

It was a sunny Saturday; sunlight streamed through the living room curtains, casting a golden glow over scattered toys and forgotten drawings. The house was rarely silent nowadays, filled instead with endless chatter and mischief of two young children. Sylus sat in his favorite armchair, a cup of coffee in hand, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

Aria was in the middle of one of her elaborate adventures. Her white hair—an uncanny resemblance of her father’s—was tied up in a messy ponytail, and her brown eyes sparkled with determination. She had draped a blanket over her shoulders like a cape and brandished a wooden spoon as if it were a sword.

“I am the Dragon Queen!” she declared, her voice roaring with authority. “And I must protect my kingdom from the evil sorcerer!”

Kai sat quietly on the floor nearby, his dark hair—so like his mother’s—a mess, and his crimson eyes—a mirror of Sylus’s—wide with admiration. He clutched a stuffed bear in his tiny hands, but his attention was entirely on Aria. Without a word, he stood up, dragging the blanket he had been sitting on behind him. He tried to mimic her stance. His face scrunched in concentration as he held up a plastic spoon near her, his bear left forgotten.

Aria noticed him out of the corner of her eye and frowned, dropping her spoon. “Kai, you can’t be the Dragon Queen too! There’s only one Dragon Queen, and that’s me!”

Kai didn’t respond, his expression unwavering as he continued to mirror her movements. When Aria stomped her foot, he stomped his. When she swung her “sword,” he did the same, though his movements were clumsier and more rooted in admiration than frustration.

Sylus chuckled softly as he set his coffee cup on the side table. He had always found it endearing how Kai idolized his older sister. From the moment Kai had learned to crawl, he had always wanted to be with her so much that Lili had to take him away and distract him so their daughter could have some time to herself. Sylus couldn’t help but find it heartwarming.

Aria, on the other hand, was growing increasingly exasperated. She turned to Kai, hands on her hips. “Kai, you’re ruining my game! Go play something else!”

Kai’s lower lip trembled, but he didn’t cry. Instead, he simply sat down on the floor with the plastic spoon clutched tightly to his chest. His crimson eyes were downcast, and for a moment he looked so small and vulnerable that Sylus’s heart almost hurt.

Aria hesitated, and Sylus could tell she was starting to feel guilty. She glanced at him, and he silently nodded, urging her to make things right. With a sigh, she kneeled beside Kai.

“Okay, fine,” she tells him in a softer tone now. “You can be the Dragon Prince. But you have to do what I say, got it?”

Kai’s face lit up as he nodded eagerly, scrambling to his feet. Aria rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. She handed him a toy shield, and together they resumed their game as a team.

Despite her annoyance, Aria never truly pushed Kai away. Sure, there were times when fights occurred in the house between the two (either Aria throws a tantrum because she is annoyed or Kai is the one that has a tantrum because he can’t be with his sister—both situations where one of their parents has to step in and set some boundaries). She would sigh, roll her eyes, and pretend she didn’t care—but she always made space for him whenever she had the capacity for it. If she ran ahead, she would slow down just enough for him to catch up. If she found something interesting, she would talk about it loud enough for him to hear even if she never addressed him directly.

And if Kai ever truly fell behind, she was the first to turn back. Sylus had seen it before—Aria’s sharp, brown eyes scanning for her little brother, her body going rigid with worry. She would never admit it, but she never really wanted to leave him behind—not most of the time, anyway. Kai knew this too.

So even when she called him a copycat or that he’s “cramping her style,” even when she grumbled about him getting in the way, Kai never stopped following her. Lili and Sylus still try to teach Kai about boundaries, and hopefully as he gets older, he will grow out of this phase. But for now, when it’s harmless, he found it amusing.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, a contented smile gracing his face. He glanced at Lili, who had entered the room with her own cup of tea. “At it again, are they?”

Sylus nodded, his gaze lingering on the children. “She’ll figure it out eventually,” he said softly. Lili laughed, sitting down on the sofa next to him. “She already has. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

As the morning wore on, the sounds of laughter and playful bickering filled the house. Sylus and Lili watched their children, hearts swelling with love and joy. Aria, with her fiery spirit and boundless imagination, had always been force to be reckoned with even at the tender age of seven. And Kai, quiet but steadfast, was her perfect counterpart. A gentle soul who found joy in simply being near his sister.

In that moment, Sylus couldn’t imagine a life without them. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

A/N: What did you guys think? Do let me know, as I'm very open to feedback. I do hope you enjoyed it, though! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a pleasant day/night wherever you are.

If you are a reader on ao3, please consider giving this a kudos and leaving me your thoughts! They're very much appreciated as I want to get better at writing.

[monopersona]

I Remember, I'm Sorry

“I don’t want to lose you again. Not in this life, not in any other.” “No matter how many lifetimes we live, no matter how many times we have to start over, I’ll always find you. And I’ll always choose you.” The one where she finally remembers.

Sylus x MC (Lili). Angst, emotional h/c. 877 words.

Read on ao3 here

Series masterlist here

“Sylus… I curse your soul to never fade away.”

“You’ll always be tied to me. Forever.”

“This is my curse. Only I can grant you a true death.”

Lili woke with a start. Her ragged, uneven breaths and pounding heart felt like she had run for miles. The room was dark, with the faint glow of the city outside being the only light. For a moment, she felt disoriented. She finds herself between the dream and reality: the field of blooming daturas, the weight of her curse, the ache of a memory that wasn’t hers—until it was.  

She turned to Sylus, his silver hair tousled and sharp face softened by slumber. The sight of him being there next to her—so real and solid—made her chest tighten. He stirred awake, his crimson eyes eventually flickering open in alert after realizing the state she was in despite the haze of sleep clouding him. “Sweetie.” His voice was rough, but his hands were already moving, pulling her close. “What’s wrong?”  

She couldn’t answer at first. The weight of the dream—no, the memory—was too heavy and raw. So she buried her face in his chest and let her tears soak into the fabric of his shirt. Sylus didn’t push her to speak. He simply held her, his arms a steady anchor as she cried her heart out.  

When her sobs finally subsided, she pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red and swollen, her voice barely above a whisper. “I remember everything, Sylus. All of it.”  

He stilled, his breath catching. “Everything?”  

She nodded, her hands clutching his shirt as if he might disappear if she let go. “The Abyss. Your death. My curse. I… I killed you, didn’t I?”  

Sylus’s jaw tightened. His crimson eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Was it anger? Regret? Disappointment? “Lili…”  

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “All this time I left you alone with a burden that you had to carry all by yourself.”  

Sylus cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said in a low and steady voice. “You’ve given me a life I never thought I could have.”  

She shook her head, her tears still flowing. “But I cursed you! I tied your soul to mine, forced you to live through lifetimes of pain and loneliness. How could I do that to you? I was selfish.”  

His hands tightened gently on her face, gaze unwavering. “You weren’t selfish,” he stated firmly. “You were in a desperate situation. You loved me enough to defy fate, and I love you enough to endure whatever comes with it.”  

Lili cried harder, her hands clutching his wrists as if he might vanish if she let go. “But you’ve suffered so much because of me. All those years, all those lifetimes… I didn’t even remember you. I didn’t even know!”  

Sylus leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “You’re here now and you remember. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”  

Her chest tightened, her heart breaking and healing and breaking and healing again in an endless loop. “Sylus, I… I don’t know how to make this right. How do I make up for everything you’ve been through?”  

He pulled back slightly, his gaze soft as he looked at her. “You don’t have to make up for anything,” he tells her. “Just love me and stay with me. That’s all I need.”  

“I love you,” she immediately whispered. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t remember, I think I always knew.”  

Sylus’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “I know,” he said. “I felt it. Every time I found you—in every lifetime—I felt it. Your soul called to mine even when you didn’t know why.”  

Her hands moved to his face, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, her voice breaking. “For everything.”  

Sylus caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm. “Don’t be. I’d do it all over again if it meant I could have this life we have now—if it meant I could have you.”  

Lili searched his eyes, her heart sinking at the depth of love and devotion she saw and felt. “I don’t want to lose you again,” she whispered. “Not in this life, not in any other.”  

Sylus leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers again. “You won’t,” he promised, his voice fierce. “No matter how many lifetimes we live, no matter how many times we have to start over, I’ll always find you. And I’ll always choose you.”  

Lili closed her eyes, her heart swelling with a love as ancient as their history. “I’ll choose you too,” she whispered. “Always.”  

They had found each other again, and this time they wouldn’t let go. The curse that had bound them for so long was no longer a chain, but a thread that weaved their souls together for as long as Lili wanted.

For the first time in centuries, Sylus felt free. And for the first time in her life, Lili felt whole. 

A/N: I was saving this for later but I couldn't help myself. I always either go full fluff or full angst, there is no in between.

I hope you all enjoy this one! Thank you so much for reading!

If you are a reader on ao3, please consider giving this a kudos and leaving me your thoughts! They're very much appreciated as I want to get better at writing.

Anyways, have a great day/night wherever you are <3

[monopersona]

I just wanna say I love your stories! How many fics will you write for the series?

Oh thank you!! I honestly do not have a plan to limit how many fics I will write for The Last Dragon's Heart. This project is mostly self-indulgent. While I have a few fics lined up, the goal is to explore Sylus and Lili's relationship over the years. Whether it takes 7 or 100 fics to feel satisfied with that, who knows for now xD

[monopersona]

I Remember, I'm Sorry

“I don’t want to lose you again. Not in this life, not in any other.” “No matter how many lifetimes we live, no matter how many times we have to start over, I’ll always find you. And I’ll always choose you.” The one where she finally remembers.

Sylus x MC (Lili). Angst, emotional h/c. 877 words.

Read on ao3 here

Series master list here

“Sylus… I curse your soul to never fade away.”

“You’ll always be tied to me. Forever.”

“This is my curse. Only I can grant you a true death.”

Lili woke with a start. Her ragged, uneven breaths and pounding heart felt like she had run for miles. The room was dark, with the faint glow of the city outside being the only light. For a moment, she felt disoriented. She finds herself between the dream and reality: the field of blooming daturas, the weight of her curse, the ache of a memory that wasn’t hers—until it was.  

She turned to Sylus, his silver hair tousled and sharp face softened by slumber. The sight of him being there next to her—so real and solid—made her chest tighten. He stirred awake, his crimson eyes eventually flickering open in alert after realizing the state she was in despite the haze of sleep clouding him. “Sweetie.” His voice was rough, but his hands were already moving, pulling her close. “What’s wrong?”  

She couldn’t answer at first. The weight of the dream—no, the memory—was too heavy and raw. So she buried her face in his chest and let her tears soak into the fabric of his shirt. Sylus didn’t push her to speak. He simply held her, his arms a steady anchor as she cried her heart out.  

When her sobs finally subsided, she pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red and swollen, her voice barely above a whisper. “I remember everything, Sylus. All of it.”  

He stilled, his breath catching. “Everything?”  

She nodded, her hands clutching his shirt as if he might disappear if she let go. “The Abyss. Your death. My curse. I… I killed you, didn’t I?”  

Sylus’s jaw tightened. His crimson eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Was it anger? Regret? Disappointment? “Lili…”  

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “All this time I left you alone with a burden that you had to carry all by yourself.”  

Sylus cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said in a low and steady voice. “You’ve given me a life I never thought I could have.”  

She shook her head, her tears still flowing. “But I cursed you! I tied your soul to mine, forced you to live through lifetimes of pain and loneliness. How could I do that to you? I was selfish.”  

His hands tightened gently on her face, gaze unwavering. “You weren’t selfish,” he stated firmly. “You were in a desperate situation. You loved me enough to defy fate, and I love you enough to endure whatever comes with it.”  

Lili cried harder, her hands clutching his wrists as if he might vanish if she let go. “But you’ve suffered so much because of me. All those years, all those lifetimes… I didn’t even remember you. I didn’t even know!”  

Sylus leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “You’re here now and you remember. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”  

Her chest tightened, her heart breaking and healing and breaking and healing again in an endless loop. “Sylus, I… I don’t know how to make this right. How do I make up for everything you’ve been through?”  

He pulled back slightly, his gaze soft as he looked at her. “You don’t have to make up for anything,” he tells her. “Just love me and stay with me. That’s all I need.”  

“I love you,” she immediately whispered. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t remember, I think I always knew.”  

Sylus’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “I know,” he said. “I felt it. Every time I found you—in every lifetime—I felt it. Your soul called to mine even when you didn’t know why.”  

Her hands moved to his face, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, her voice breaking. “For everything.”  

Sylus caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm. “Don’t be. I’d do it all over again if it meant I could have this life we have now—if it meant I could have you.”  

Lili searched his eyes, her heart sinking at the depth of love and devotion she saw and felt. “I don’t want to lose you again,” she whispered. “Not in this life, not in any other.”  

Sylus leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers again. “You won’t,” he promised, his voice fierce. “No matter how many lifetimes we live, no matter how many times we have to start over, I’ll always find you. And I’ll always choose you.”  

Lili closed her eyes, her heart swelling with a love as ancient as their history. “I’ll choose you too,” she whispered. “Always.”  

They had found each other again, and this time they wouldn’t let go. The curse that had bound them for so long was no longer a chain, but a thread that weaved their souls together for as long as Lili wanted.

For the first time in centuries, Sylus felt free. And for the first time in her life, Lili felt whole. 

A/N: I was saving this for later but I couldn't help myself. I always either go full fluff or full angst, there is no in between.

I hope you all enjoy this one! Thank you so much for reading!

If you are a reader on ao3, please consider giving this a kudos and leaving me your thoughts! They're very much appreciated as I want to get better at writing.

Anyways, have a great day/night wherever you are <3

[monopersona]

Kiss it Better

When Sylus discovers the scar running down her back, it’s more than just a mark—it’s a reminder of the pain she’s endured without him. The one where Sylus sees her scar for the first time.

Sylus x MC. Fluff and light angst, h/c. 775 words.

You can read on ao3 here

Series master list here

A/N: Hey guys, so this is my first post in around [checks note] six years. I've been really invested in Love and Deepspace for the past month and have found myself to be a sucker for Sylus and the Main Character's (I've named her Lili) story to the point where I've decided to publish it, so here we are. Anyways, enjoy!

Sylus loves it when Lili stays over.  

Their relationship is still new, fragile in the way that something precious often is, and every moment with her feels like a revelation. He’s always been a man of control, of calculated moves and measured emotions. But with Lili, it’s different. The desire to be close to her isn’t a wildfire—it’s a slow, steady burn that has crept into every corner of his being. It’s in the way his chest tightens when she laughs, the way his fingers itch to trace the curve of her jaw, the way he finds himself holding his breath when she’s near, as if even the air between them is sacred.  

He wants her in ways he’s never wanted anyone before, but it’s not just physical. It’s deeper than that. It’s the way she makes him feel seen, even in his darkest corners. And so he holds himself back, careful not to push her, not to rush her. He wants to be her safe place. Her sanctuary.  

That’s why when he walks into his bedroom one evening and finds her standing there, her back exposed as she changes into her pajamas, he freezes.  

She’s only in her bottoms, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders as she reaches for a towel. She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t flinch or try to cover herself. She knows he’s there, and the trust in that simple act makes his chest ache.  

But then he sees it.  

A scar.  

It runs diagonally across her back, from just below her left shoulder blade down to her waist—a jagged, raised line that speaks of pain and survival. Sylus is no stranger to scars. He’s worn them, inflicted them, tended to them. But this one—hers—feels different. It’s a mark of something he wasn’t there to protect her from, and the thought of her in pain—of her enduring whatever caused this—ignites a quiet fury in him.  

He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. Not yet. Instead, he steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate. His hand finds her hip, his touch feather-light, and he feels her shiver under his fingertips.  

“I was thinking of ordering some pizza tonight,” Lili says, her voice casual, though there’s a slight tremor in it. He hopes she’s not afraid of this newfound closeness. He trusts that she will voice it if it were true. “I’ve been craving cheese and—”  

Her words cut off as he lowers himself behind her, his lips brushing against the top of the scar. He kisses it gently, his mouth tracing the length of it. Each press a silent promise: I’m here. You’re safe. You’re loved.

She doesn’t doesn’t pull away, but he can feel her breath hitch, can sense the confusion in the way her shoulders stiffen.  

“Sylus,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”  

He doesn’t stop. Not until he’s kissed every inch of the scar, until his lips have memorized its shape. Then he stands, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. She fits perfectly against him, and he feels her warmth seeping into his skin. He rests his chin on her shoulder, his breath stirring the damp strands of her hair.  

“I’m inclined to believe,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, “that no one has ever kissed your scar better before. So I’m doing it now.”  

Lili turns in his arms, her eyes searching his. For a moment, he thinks she might pull away. But then she smiles—a small, tender smile that makes his heart ache—and rests her head against his chest as her arms fully embrace him.  

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, but there’s no bite in her words. Only warmth.  

“Maybe,” he admits as his hands slid up her back, his fingers brushing against the scar once more. “But I meant it. Every kiss.”  

She looks at him, her gaze soft but piercing as if she can see straight through him. And maybe she can. Maybe she always has.  

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice breaking just enough to make his chest tighten.  

He doesn’t say anything. He pulls her closer instead, his lips finding hers in a kiss that’s equal parts tenderness and yearning. It’s not enough—it will never be enough—but for now, it’s everything.  

And as they stand there, wrapped in each other, Sylus knows one thing for certain: he will spend the rest of his life kissing her scars, both seen and unseen, until she believes she is whole. Until she believes she is loved.  

Because she is.  

She always will be.

A/N: Since this is my first published work in a really long time, I'd love some feedback! What did you think of it? Do let me know.

If you are a reader on ao3, please consider giving this a kudos and leaving me your thoughts! They're very much appreciated as I want to get better at writing.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a pleasant day /night <33

[monopersona]

The Last Dragon's Heart

When love finds Sylus in the form of Lili, a resilient hunter with scars of her own, he’s forced to confront the man he was and the man he wants to be. This series is a collection of intimate, interconnected stories that span the lifetime of Sylus and Lili in no particular order. From the early days of their relationship to the joys and challenges of building their family and finally to their twilight years.

Master list

Kiss it Better - fluff, light angst, h/c

When Sylus discovers the scar running down her back, it’s more than just a mark—it’s a reminder of the pain she’s endured without him. The one where Sylus sees her scar for the first time.

I Remember, I'm Sorry - angst, h/c

“I don’t want to lose you again. Not in this life, not in any other.” “No matter how many lifetimes we live, no matter how many times we have to start over, I’ll always find you. And I’ll always choose you.” The one where she finally remembers.

Dragon Queen - dad!sylus, domestic fluff

Aria noticed her little brother out of the corner of her eye and frowned. “Kai, you can’t be the Dragon Queen too! There’s only one Dragon Queen, and that’s me!” Sylus's son wants to do everything his big sister does, much to Sylus's amusement.

Sweet Dreams - fluff, implied smut

Sixteen years was a long time to love someone. Somehow, for them, it still felt like a beginning.

Slip of the Tongue - fluff, light h/c

"Let me take care of you." They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And then the words just slip out of her mouth. The one where she accidentally says I love you.

Sins of the Father - family, fluff

Known as the devil, loved by a saint, and father to miracles. He built his empire on blood and fire, but his legacy will not be the darkness—it will be the laughter of his children, the quiet sanctuary he shields from the world he once ruled. Some call it redemption, but Sylus knows better. The past will always linger as a shadow that never truly fades, but neither does the light. He was never a good man, but he is a good father. And for them—for her—he will try to be better. A reflection of Sylus and his journey into fatherhood.

Certified Silverfox - family, crack

When Sylus shows up for report cards in a black turtleneck and glasses, half the school loses its mind. Again. Aria wants to disappear. Her little brother laughs. Her mom finds it entertaining. Her dad? Just vibes, leaving chaos and thirst traps in his wake. A slice-of-life comedy with cool dad, PTA drama, and a marriage that still feels like flirting, years and two kids later.

Birthday Interruptions - family, fluff, Sylus day fic

Sylus’s idea of a birthday used to involve ignoring the date entirely. Now it involves a fancy dinner, a watch with a hidden compass, two kids fighting over space metaphors, and a fever that cuts the night short. It’s chaotic. It’s imperfect. It’s his best birthday yet. Aria’s face filled the screen, all serious business. “Dad, I have a question about the universe that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

And more to come...