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dizzydaisychains · 3 months ago

Text

ℭ𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔬

⋆｡°✩ pairing: sylus x reader

⋆｡°✩ word count: 10k

⋆｡°✩ summary: because sometimes, love grows quietly; thorns and all (or alternatively: eight times sylus falls in love, and one time he actually says it out loud.

⋆｡°✩ ao3 link (if you would like to read it on there instead): https://archiveofourown.org/works/64993741

It starts on a Tuesday.

And really, Sylus should have seen it coming from a mile away, should have taken note of the flashing neon signs that his brain had been setting up for him ever since he found you again, but like most trivial things, he’s chosen to ignore it for the time being. Ignorance is bliss after all, but now, in this current situation, he’s beginning to wonder if it’s too late to run.

Because it’s 2am on a Tuesday night, and instead of cleaning up a job gone wrong or dusting his vinyl collection for the nth time, he’s lying in the grass in a field outside Linkon city, your head on his chest as both of you stare up at the glittering constellations spread over the night sky.

And no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on Cassiopeia or Orion, all he can think about is all the ways he can get you to stay here a little longer.

It’s like the first sign of sunshine after a particularly long winter, or the feeling of falling into bed after a long day. Being with you has made all those years of solitude worth it, has given his life purpose when he had slowly been sinking into eternal ennui, yet, for some reason, he can’t find the words to tell you this. Words usually come easy to him. Striking a deal, manipulating a soul; he’s mastered the art of conversation in every shape and form, but when it comes to you, he finds that most of his words aren’t enough.

On top of that, there’s also the fact that your current relationship is delicate. His abysmal attempts of getting you to remember him had only ended up earning him your resentment. Since then, he has vowed to never let that happen again, but this slow pace is burning him alive. Are you two even dating? Everything is vague, yet nothing feels as clear as this; him holding you in his arms as you both pick apart the stars, trying to make sense of why they burn and how long it would take to reach one.

“Sylus?”

Your voice lulls Sylus out of his thoughts, his eyes landing on your soft gaze.

“What are you thinking about?”

Sylus shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

He tries to ignore the look you give him as you reach out and trace the crinkle between the bridge of his nose and his forehead.

“Liar. I can see your frown lines. You’re worried about something.”

Sylus scoffs. “I never worry, Kitten. I’m too powerful for that.”

“Oh really? Then what about that time you thought you scratched your favourite vinyl? Or the time I nearly shrunk your sweater in the dryer?”

“Do you often keep note of my habits like this?” He smiles as he notices a faint blush appear on your cheeks.

“Force of habit. I’m a Hunter. I need to keep a close eye on Linkon’s most wanted.”

“Ah, so you still see me as someone dangerous . I see how it is…”

“You know that’s not true.”

Sylus huffs as you shift your position to face him properly. He can’t help but love how his hands naturally gravitate towards your waist, gently steadying you as you look down at him with a pout on your lips.

“Do you really still believe I think of you like that?”

Sylus holds his breath as you hold his face in your hands. Warm. Your hands are always so warm. Sylus craves it. Craves your touch, craves your soft fingertips on his skin as he looks at you wondering if you can tell that he wants nothing more than to kiss you until he runs out of breath.

“Then what do you think of me?” Sylus asks, voice low.

“You are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you,” you sing with a soft smile.

Sylus smirks. “So you went with the words of E.E Cummings. When did you start learning to recite poetry like that?”

“Since you started reading it to me at night when you think I’m asleep.”

“Well aren’t you always full of surprises?”

Sylus smiles as one of your hands moves to his hair, twirling the loose strands between your fingers. It’s all so intimate . He doesn’t know how much longer he can restrain himself, your sweet scent is driving him insane. Would it be so bad to kiss you? To admit that maybe…the feeling is real? Would fate be so cruel as to punish him for confessing to what it has cursed him to do until the end of time?

But perhaps, it isn’t up to him at all, because it’s you who leans in and kisses him, once, then twice, and then he loses count, his grip on your hips tightening as you hold his face, guiding him as he chases the burning feeling in his stomach.

And he desperately tries to ignore it, the thorns curling around his chest. You know where this ends, his conscience hisses at him. You’ll lose her again if you keep giving in to your desires. The weight of the dragon’s curse will haunt you until your last breath–

“Sylus …” Your desperate voice breaks through the darkness.

“Sylus..I…I…”

“It’s okay,” Sylus pants in between kissing you. “It’s okay Kitten, you don’t have to say anything.”

“But–”

He deepens the kiss and you moan, your hips grinding against him. It’s too much. Sylus knows he has to stop. Christ, he doesn’t want to though. You feel amazing in his lap, his hands gliding up your soft thighs.

“Kitten…” He pulls away and looks at your swollen lips, the desire in your eyes.

“Why’d you stop?” you whine, grinding in his lap, which makes him laugh a little. The darkness in his heart subsides briefly.

“Now isn’t the time and place.”

“Why do you always have to be right,” you sigh in response, leaning against his chest as you both catch your breath under the stars. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, trying his best to keep it together.

Perhaps it is too late to run.

Sylus shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, tries to shut out the voices in his head.

There’s no denying it;

He’s falling in love.

And so, it starts on a Tuesday, but really, deep down, Sylus knows it started long before that.

II.

Admitting that he’s in love is one thing, but accepting it is another predicament that Sylus has been unsuccessfully avoiding over the past week.

He sighs deeply as he stares out the window of his office, his hand stroking Mephisto’s sleek feathers a few times before heading towards his desk where a pile of paperwork sits waiting to be read through and signed. One of the top ten ‘perks’ of being the leader of a powerful mafia gang; fucking paperwork.

Taking a seat, he runs a hand through his hair and begins to scan through the documents. It’s a tedious task. It takes him about two hours to even make it halfway through the pile.

He’s beginning to feel the start of migraine forming in the back of his head when suddenly, the door bursts open and the twins come tumbling in.

“What have I said about knocking before entering?”

“Sorry, Boss! But it’s urgent,” Kieran waves a phone in his face, Sylus’ own phone to be exact. He must have left it in the dining room after breakfast this morning.

“Whoever it is, tell them I’m occupied,” Sylus scoffs, turning his attention back to the document in front of him.

“Err…Boss…I think you might want to look at this.” It’s Luke this time, the bolder one of the two. Sylus flicks his gaze upwards, curious to see what exactly is so urgent.

“It’s…well it’s her. She’s in a bit of trouble. Seems like she’s been kidnapped. They said they won’t harm her if we let them talk to you.”

The twins must feel the chill in the air as the temperature immediately drops. They shiver as Sylus slowly stands up, one hand taking the phone from Luke, the other slowly curling into a fist as his Evol begins to swirl around the room.

“You have ten seconds to give me your location,” Sylus says into the phone, voice deadly calm, but it’s a voice that the twins know all too well. Luke elbows Kieran before mining a blade sliding across his throat. Whoever is on the other end of the phone might as well start planning their funeral.

“We’re not giving you anything until you agree to our terms,” the voice on the other end of the phone hisses. “We heard your little Hunter here has an Aether Core in her possession. However, she won’t cooperate. We’re not exactly sure where she’s hiding it though, and she’s been quite difficult to extract information from–”

“If you fucking lay a finger on her, you’ll be sorry you were ever even born,” Sylus growls, to which the voice on the other side of the phone laughs in response to.

“Convince her to give us the Aether Core. If you can do that, we’ll let her walk free.”

“Are you asking me to make a deal with you?”

“I heard you love making deals. Tell you what, we’ll throw in an extra batch of enhanced protocores, just because I’m feeling generous.”

“And your location?”

“The abandoned warehouse downtown. You know the N109 Zone well enough to figure out which one.”

Sylus takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. If I see a single mark on her when I get there,” he pauses, fingers tracing over the gun on his desk.

“Well, it’s already a bit too late for you anyway. You’ll find out soon enough what exactly it means to strike a deal with me.”

He hangs up the phone and looks at Luke and Kieran, his scarlet eyes blazing, but his demeanour as calm as ever.

“Gather whatever weapons you’ll need and meet me outside in five minutes. Looks like the paperwork will have to wait.”

They salute him. “Yes, sir!”

Sylus smirks. Good thing he was feeling bored anyway.

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

It only takes him seven minutes to track down the warehouse, and it takes him even less time to annihilate the ‘security’ that the kidnappers had set up to delay him. By the time he makes it to where they’re holding you hostage, most of the vermin have either fled or have met an untimely end.

Only half a dozen remain, and they surround you and a tall man in a trench coat like magpies protecting a sacred treasure. Sylus looks at you, tied to a chair, a bored expression on your face.

Noticing his arrival, you give him a cheerful wave despite an ugly bruise on your cheek. The sight of it makes Sylus want to burn the warehouse to the ground.

“Took you long enough!” you yell at him, causing one of the thugs to jab at you with the muzzle of a gun.

“Traffic was bad,” Sylus replies, which only makes you smile at him. Oh, he’s going to enjoy this all right.

Sylus takes a step forward as the gang raise their guns, all six of them aiming at you in the chair.

“Don’t move or we’ll shoot her!”

Sylus rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.

“I come in peace,” he says dryly, a lazy smirk on his face. The thug in the trench coat (who Sylus has already clocked as the asshole leader he had spoken previously with on the phone) walks towards him, clapping his hands like an idiot.

“Well done! You managed to take out my security. But sadly, we need to shake on our deal before I hand over little Miss Hunter.” He walks towards Sylus, his arm outstretched to reveal a grubby looking hand.

Sylus lowers his arms and lets the man come to him. “Ah, I see. Yes, we made a deal, but it seems you haven’t kept your end of the bargain up. She seems to have a number of marks on her face.”

“She needed to be disciplined.”

“Do you enjoy picking on your enemies when they’re at their weakest? Binding her hands and her feet while you beat her. Is that really fair?” Sylus tilts his head to the side in mock curiosity.

“She kicked my shin and spat on me. Tying her up was one of my nicer punishments.”

“That’s my feisty little Kitten for you. Rile her up like that and she’ll scratch you.”

Sylus watches as the man comes to a halt in front of him. A pale, sinewy looking man up close. He tuts in disappointment. At least dress like a leader before you start acting like one, he thinks to himself.

The man motions for Sylus to shake his hand, except, before Sylus can even react, the man whips out a pistol and shoots him in the chest.

“Ouch,” Sylus deadpans, watching as the man’s expression changes from arrogantly confident to extremely concerned. It’s a look that Sylus is used to seeing, and honestly, he should be tired of it by now, but deep down; this is his favourite part of the game.

“H-How…” the man stammers, but it’s already too late, and Sylus can’t stop his smile from spreading as he knocks the pistol out of the man’s hand, his Evol snaking around the man’s body, curling around his arms, his legs, until suddenly it engulfs him fully, squeezing, choking….the man doesn’t even realise it’s too late until poof! He’s gone.

Sylus turns his attention to the remaining thugs. One look from him and they drop their guns before scattering like rats in a sewer.

“Luke, Kieran,” Sylus says as the twins seemingly materialise by his side. “Clean up the rest of this mess. Make sure none of them leave here alive.”

“Yes, Boss!” The twins scamper off, giggling like kids in a playground.

Sylus makes his way over to you and crouches down, his hands moving swiftly to untie you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle.

“What? No smart comments about how the hell did I manage to get kidnapped?” you mumble, feeling embarrassed that he had to save you.

“I figured your pride was already hurt enough.”

You sigh in annoyance as Sylus finishes freeing your feet and hands. “They managed to inject me with a tranquilizer. Bastards. I would have been able to take them if they hadn't of caught me off guard.”

“Not like you to be caught off guard like that.”

“I was buying ice cream after a long shift.”

Sylus laughs, reaching out to cup your cheek with his palm. You wince a little as his fingers graze your bruise.

“Does it hurt, Kitten?” His eyebrows furrow in concern.

You shrug. “Just a little. Nothing an ice pack can’t heal.”

He scans the rest of your body, searching for more injuries, but you reach up and surprise him with a hug, pulling him tightly into your arms.

“Thanks for coming for me. For a second I thought you wouldn’t pick up your phone. You usually sleep during the day.”

Sylus shuts his eyes as he lifts you into his arms, the knot of worry untying in his chest now that you’re safe.

“I had some paperwork to get through. Had to wake up early to sign a few things.”

You laugh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck . “The leader of Onychinus doing paperwork? Surely you have an admin person that can do all that for you.”

“Too many secrets in the paperwork. Can’t trust anyone.”

“How about me? I can help you.”

Sylus pinches your side.

“Hey! That tickles.”

“Hilarious how you think I’d let a Hunter pry into Onychinus’ affairs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I already know where your base is. If I didn’t like hanging out with you so much I would have turned you in by now.”

You let out a small yawn as Sylus’ head spins, your words making him feel like a fireworks display has suddenly erupted in his heart.

“Can you take me to your place on your motorcycle? I’m too tired to call a taxi back to my apartment after today's events.”

Sylus gets to his feet, still carrying you in his arms as you rest your head against his chest.

“Depends. Are you going to make me watch another bad comedy film to try and make me stay awake during the day again?”

You punch his chest lightly.

“You pick a movie then. But it can’t be one of the black and white silent films you like to watch. Are you sure you’re not ninety years old?”

Sylus doesn’t say anything to that. Just pinches you again, but he can’t seem to take the stupid grin off his face.

A small glimmer of hope shines through the walls of the castle he has built around himself. Perhaps loving you in this life doesn’t have to end in tragedy. Perhaps fate might grant the two of you mercy if he can protect you properly this time.

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

And as it turns out, there is a way to make paperwork slightly more interesting. He discovers this later that evening, and it involves bending you over his mahogany desk, his hands on your hips, your body spread over the documents as you beg him to fuck you faster.

“Sylus, ” you moan, turning your face to look at him as he holds your wrists in his hands, firmly keeping them behind your back. “Feels so good…I…I don’t know if I can stand much longer.”

He curses as he notices your trembling thighs. Fuck, it makes him feel so fucking hard seeing you like this. But you’re right. You’ve been through a lot today, so he should take it slow and steady with you.

With all the gentleness of the first snowfall of winter, he picks you up and carefully places you on the table, spreading your legs as your back lays against the paperwork. You whine as you feel his cock slip out of you, hating the feeling of being without him for even a second.

Sylus soothes you with a soft kiss before he puts himself inside of you once more, giving you a few seconds to adjust before he starts thrusting again.

“Sylus, please. I need you to fuck me like you mean it. I need to feel you in me,” you beg, eyes filled with nothing but lust as you stare at him from behind long lashes.

And who is he to refuse? He fucks you until you scream his name, fucks you until you both come, your arms spread over the paperwork as if you were an angel with wings made of pure divinity.

III.

“Sylus, look!”

Sylus stares at the matching pair of couple’s pyjamas in your hands. Baby pink and baby blue. The pyjamas also have matching baby chicks printed all over them. They seem to stare menacingly at him with their little cartoon eyes as he examines their ugly faces.

“We have to buy them!”

Sylus grimaces as you wave them in his face. He supposes this what he gets for agreeing to shopping with you.

“They’re not exactly my taste.”

He watches with amusement as you give him your best puppy eyes.

“But you’d look so cute in them.” You continue to wave them around, as if you’re trying to hypnotize him into liking them.

“Not a chance.” Sylus walks off, trying to hide his laughter as you continue to pout behind his back.

“You’re so boring,” you grumble as you put the pyjamas back on the rack, trailing after Sylus through the department store.

“Oh wow!”

Sylus watches as you walk excitedly towards a pair of earrings on display in the jewellery section. A simple pair of studs in the shape of little dragons. Their wings have small rubies encrusted in them.

“Something else caught your eye?” Sylus sidles up next to you, examining the earrings through the glass.

“Uh…it’s a bit out of my budget,” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers awkwardly.

“Such a shame,” Sylus laments, folding his arms. “They would suit you.”

You reach up and pinch his cheek. “No need to rub salt in the wound.”

You walk off, leaving Sylus alone with the earrings glistening up at him. He waits until you’re a few metres away before calling over the store clerk.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I’ll take these.” Sylus gestures towards the earrings. “Can you gift wrap them for me?”

“Of course. Just to let you know, these are part of a couple’s set.” She motions towards a necklace with the charm of a dragon’s wing on it.

Sylus isn’t even surprised. Fate loves tormenting him after all. Always dropping little reminders of his curse. The earrings were one thing, but a matching necklace… he should have known.

But despite it all, he eyes the piece with interest, tapping his chin in thought as the rubies shine up at him.

“I think your partner would love you to wear it,” the store clerk says, eyes shining. “I know my job is to upsell…but between you and me, the girl who was with you earlier…she looks at you as if you’re the most important person in the world.”

Sylus nearly chokes. He hadn’t really noticed that before.

“I’ll take the set.”

He supposes this could be a way of saying fuck you! to fate for once.

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

He gives the earrings to you later that evening, playing it casual as he hands you the box before sitting in his armchair and pulling out a book of sonnets, his eyes peeking over the top of the pages as he secretly tries to gauge your reaction.

“Sylus! You shouldn’t have bought them! They cost a fortune!” You thank him with a kiss that’s sweeter than the spring flowers that grow in the valley of a mountain range.

Sylus shrugs as he watches you run off to admire the jewellery in the mirror above the fireplace.

“Money isn’t an issue,” he says, nonchalant.

“I know that, but still! You don’t have to buy me things.”

He gets to his feet and takes the earrings from your hands.

“Allow me.”

He carefully inserts the earrings into your earlobes, loving how they compliment you so well.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, tilting your chin up.

“Thank you.”

“I was talking about the earrings, not you.”

“Sylus!”

His laughter is loud enough to fill the entire Onychinus base.

Little does Sylus know that you spot the matching necklace peeking out from under his shirt later that night, but you don’t mention it, afraid that he’ll take it off in embarrassment.

Sometimes some secrets are best kept hidden.

IV.

“Mister Sylus?”

Sylus sighs as he twirls a handful of linguine around his fork.

He is not having a good week.

The whole love situation has been driving him a little insane recently. After facing the obvious and admitting to himself that, okay, maybe he is falling in love with you again (not that he had ever really stopped being in love with you), he had finally made peace with the whole situation.

Until of course, the nightmares started, and now he’s lost count of all the ways he’s watched you die in front of him.

Dreams are just dreams , he knows this. But that doesn’t make them less terrifying. He’s the head of Onychinus for Christ’s sake. It’s a known fact that nothing really scares him. But losing you again…no. He’s not letting it happen. And after the kidnapping incident, he’s made sure that something like that won’t ever happen again. He has Mephisto giving him daily updates, making sure that no one suspicious has been tailing you.

But the darkness still resides in his heart. So instead of letting it get the better of him, he’s been trying to stay awake. In total, he’s probably been getting four hours of sleep every night for the past few days.

And of course, to top it all off, he’s been cleaning up Onychinus related messes all week (none of which were his fault, but all of them required his assistance, apparently). Between dealing with a missing batch of protocores and a shoot-out with a group of idiots that couldn’t hit him no matter bullets they fired, Sylus is on the verge of losing his mind as he sits across another useless mole that Luke and Kieran found for him, and now he has to deal with it on very little sleep.

“Your lies, they’re boring me,” Sylus says eventually, eyes still on his pasta. “My time is precious, and you’re wasting it.”

His gaze moves slowly to the man opposite him. A sheen of sweat has broken across his forehead. It makes Sylus smirk, the effect he can have on people.

“I promise Mister Sylus, I would never lie to you. My loyalty to Onychinus is–”

“Unwavering? Infinite? Please, I’ve heard it all before.” Sylus curls his hand into a fist, the familiar feeling of power coursing through his veins as his Evol snakes around his wrist, slowly seeping into his fingertips.

“Mister Sylus…” the man watches him with bulging eyes. “I-I swear–”

“Swear on your life? Don’t worry. You won’t have to make false promises anymore.”

And really, he’s about to have the most fun he’s had all week, because there’s nothing more satisfying than the feeling of having his energy consume another weak soul. His fingers twitch as his Evol creeps towards the mole’s throat. Three…two…one…

“Wanderer!”

They have got to be fucking joking.

Sylus curses as a Wanderer suddenly crashes through the window of the restaurant, forcing him to take cover as glass shatters all around him. Familiar screams of terror fill the air as the Wanderer begins to destroy everything within a two metre radius, and the mole, God damn it, the mole has somehow managed to slip away in all the chaos. As if his day couldn’t get any worse.

He thinks he might just call it a day and let someone else deal with this mess. He’s already cleaned up about three incidents today anyway. He sighs as he stands up and dusts off his jacket, tutting as he notices a sizeable stain on his shirt. He’ll have to get Luke and Kieran to send it off for dry cleaning later.

He glances outside at the chaos on the streets. About six Wanderers are crashing through the square, the protofield already beginning to form. Sirens wail in the near distance and soon enough the Hunters flood the streets, right on cue. It’s enough to give him a very inconvenient headache. He’s about to use his Evol to disappear when he hears something that makes him freeze.

“Everybody, please remain calm!”

A stern voice that can be heard above all the chaos. A voice that Sylus would recognise in every universe, in every lifetime. You.

“Please evacuate the area as quickly as possible! The Unicorns will take it from here!”

And all of a sudden, Sylus is on the street pushing roughly through the crowd, heading towards you, his Evol pulsing in his veins as the familiar sense of power builds in his bones.

“Take cover!”

He barely has time to dodge as a car flies over his head, barely has time to register that the car is flying straight towards you, your back turned as you shield a child in your arms.

He’s seen this before. So many times. The nightmares always end the same. But this isn’t one of his nightmares.

This is real.

"Run!” Someone screams, and Sylus watches in slow motion as you turn around too late, your eyes widening as you see the car hurtling towards you at a hundred miles an hour, ready to land right where you stand.

Shrill screams, a blur of red and black, and suddenly the car freezes, as if caught by an invisible force, only it isn’t quite that. Wisps of scarlet smoke wrap around the car, crushing it until it dissipates into dust, and in front of it all, shielding you and the child, is Sylus.

“Are you alright?” Sylus pants, slightly out of breath as he turns around and scans your body for any injuries.

Too stunned to speak, you stare at him in awe as the child clings onto your leg.

“How…where…” you stammer. He pulls you into a brief hug before he takes your face into his hands and gives you a stern look.

“What exactly are we looking at here?”

“High metaflux fluctuations in this area. There’s about twelve Wanderers, and the protofield is forming quickly. We need to evacuate the citizens and eliminate the Wanderers as fast as we can before they spread the protofield further over Linkon,” you say, scanning through the slides on your Hunter’s watch.

Sylus nods. “You guide the child to safety. I’ll start with the Wanderer that nearly took you out with a car.” He points at the fountain in the centre of the square.

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. You can help me finish the rest of them off.”

You give him a look as you lift the child into your arms. “I only need five.”

“That’s my girl,” Sylus says, watching as you sprint away, his heart warm.

With you by his side, perhaps today won’t be a bad day after all.

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Two hours later, three close encounters, one scratched forehead and one broken fountain, Sylus finds himself sitting beside you on a piece of rubble, a cap and a pair of sunglasses hiding his face as you frantically look around, triple checking that no one is giving Sylus any strange looks.

“We just killed a dozen Wanderers, Sweetie. I doubt anyone is worrying about the N109 Zone’s crime lord gracing them with a surprise appearance.” He hands you a mango ice pop.

“A reward for your performance today.”

Satisfied that Sylus is unrecognisable to the public eye, you take a bow as you accept the ice pop before taking a seat beside Sylus in the rubble.

“Always a pleasure fighting alongside a crime lord.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve gotten stronger. Our training is paying off.” Sylus can’t help but feel proud of your strength.

“You need to work on your defence though.” His fingers reach out to gently touch the graze on your forehead.

You shake him off. “I can handle an injury or two.”

“I know you can,” Sylus sighs, looking at the determination in your eyes. “But sometimes you run recklessly into things. It’s important to think before throwing your punches.”

“Well, I know you’ll always have my back to pull me out of trouble anyway,” you say with a shrug before sneaking a bite of his ice pop.

Sylus opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by your Hunter’s watch buzzing.

You get to your feet and give him a mock salute. “Duty calls, I guess. Maybe I’ll see you later? How about a movie night in my apartment?”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “And if I say I already have plans?”

“Cancel them.” You lean down and give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sylus can only smile as he watches you run off. You blow him goodbye kisses as a group of Hunters throw their arms around your shoulders, congratulating you on another successful mission.

Flowers can’t grow in the N109 Zone, unless of course, you know the right people, or unless you’re the leader of Onychinus, which Sylus just so happens to be, thus, this is how he finds himself in a little corner shop tucked away from the the busy streets of the N109 Zone’s main square. A miracle really, how it has managed to survive in such a desolate place, but the owner has a special kind of Evol that can make flowers bloom even in darkness.

“So how can I help you today, Mister Sylus?”

A young girl with a green apron and a gentle demeanor blinks up at him with curious eyes. He supposes it’s not everyday that someone like him would be in a shop like this.

“I need to buy flowers for a friend,” he says, looking around at the bouquets sprawling out from the shelves around him. It feels as if the flowers are responding to his presence, the pretty ones shaking their petals, trying to get him to reach out and touch them so they can have a peek into his desires.

“And the occasion?” The girl tilts her head to the side, but she’s looking at him as if she’s already figured out the answer. It’s a little unnerving. He wonders if this is how his enemies often feel when he’s picking them apart with the Aether Core in his eye.

“No occasion,” Sylus hums, turning his attention to a sunflower that has begun to poke him with its leaves. “Do all your flowers greet your customers like this?”

The girl laughs. “The flowers have a mind of their own. I only use my Evol to encourage them. You can’t tame what’s natural, you know.”

“And what are your flowers telling you now?” Sylus reaches out to touch the leaves that are reaching for him.

The girl folds her arms. “That you’re not buying flowers for a friend.”

“Perhaps not,” Sylus sighs, feeling the familiar sensation of invisible thorns pressing into his chest. “How do you tell someone they mean the world to you? That you’d search for them in every lifetime? In every dimension…you would choose them over something as precious as life?”

“Zinnia.”

Sylus watches as the girl waves her fingers and summons a small bunch of magenta coloured flowers. “Representing everlasting affection and endurance due to their willingness to grow. They’re tough little guys to grow too. They need a lot of encouragement.”

Sylus smiles, thinking back to a memory of you standing over the little plant you left on his window sill in his bedroom, one hand on a small water can, the other tapping the leaves of the plant with soft affection.

“Make sure you grow big and strong so Sylus won’t have to feel lonely anymore, okay?”

Sylus watches you from the doorframe, your back facing him, completely unaware that he’s even there.

“He doesn’t say it in front of me because he thinks it makes him look weak, but I know it upsets him that nothing can grow in the N109 Zone.” He watches as you bend down and kiss the petals of the plant.

“So prove him wrong and make sure you grow big and strong. Make him smile when I’m not here.”

“Mister Sylus?”

The girl’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Sylus nods.

“Two months ago, I received a letter from an unknown sender who invited me to open a flower shop at this exact location in the N109 Zone. The letter stated that it would cost me nothing, that my exceptional Evol was enough payment for whatever the cost of the shop would be.”

She looks at him then, really looks at him. He supposes he should have seen this coming. Secrets are one of the top selling items in the N109 Zone.

“Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s a big risk accepting an invitation to the N109 Zone from a stranger?” Sylus asks.

“I suppose I left out a crucial part of the story.” The girl motions to a letter that hangs on a corkboard over the counter by the cash register. “The letter had the stamp of Onychinus on the bottom of it.”

“Yet you still came and opened your little shop.”

“I know you sent that letter yourself. I know you asked me to come here and open a flower shop in a place where flowers can’t even grow. I just couldn’t figure out why. There’s rumours about you, you know. That you can kill a person with just a flick of your wrist. That you have horns and a tail that only come out when someone is about to die.”

“Are you upset that the rumours were false? Or are you perhaps scared that I’m here today to prove that they might be true?”

“A man that requests someone to open a flower shop in Hell…he doesn’t kill for sport. No, you’re not what people think you are.”

Sylus laughs as he throws up his hands in mock surrender. “Do you interrogate all your customers like this?”

“You’re exactly how I thought you’d be. Arrogant, sarcastic, yet you’re here because there’s one thing you can’t figure out, and you think flowers might be able to do the job for you.”

The girl gives him a smirk. “You’re in love, Mister Sylus. You’re so in love that you tracked down an Evolver that can make flowers bloom anywhere so you could send flowers to your beloved.”

Sylus sighs, tired of the game now that the exciting part is over. “So you’ve caught me. However, I haven’t had the chance to buy any flowers for her yet.”

“Too busy closing deals and blowing up buildings?”

“Something like that.”

The girl rolls her eyes. “You know the best way to tell someone you love them is actually telling them.”

“And if words aren’t enough?” Sylus sweeps his hand through the air, motioning towards the flowers.

“I suppose roses would also work. Classic eternal love. Or Chrysanthemums. Faithfulness and longevity.”

“And what about those flowers?” Sylus twirls his fingers as his Evol tickles the petals of flowers that point towards the ceiling. Solitary, beautiful, they stand out like fresh snow on top of a mountain peak.

“Antirrhinums,” the girl says with a soft expression. “Also known as Snapdragons. White represents purity and grace. The purple ones represent love at first sight.”

A thousand memories flash through his mind as he stares at the flowers.

“I’ll take all of the Snapdragons you have.”

“All of them? Unusual. Nobody really picks the Snapdragons. They’re often overshadowed by their peers.”

“People will often stay away from anything associated with dragons,” Sylus snorts as he walks towards the little flowers.

“Dragons are solitary creatures. Even catching a glimpse of one can cost you your soul.” He reaches out to touch the delicate petals with his fingers. The girl watches him with interest. Surely the leader of Oncychinus is not as vulnerable as this?

“But even dragons have a soft spot for beautiful things such as flowers.” Sylus touches his hair, feeling the ghost of a flower tucked between the strands.

Years come and go. Sylus wonders if he’ll ever be able to save you from the cursed merry-go-round of fate.

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

He gets a phone call that evening.

“Did you really send me one hundred and nine bouquets of flowers?”

“And how did you get to that exact number?”

“I counted them all of course!”

“Usually people would say thank you by now.”

“I was getting to that. You’re just impatient.”

“I have all the patience in the world, Kitten.”

A beat of silence.

“I had to look them up online because I’ve never seen them before. They’re called Snapdragons, apparently.”

“Yes, the florist said they're often overlooked.”

“Oh. Well…I’m glad you bought them then. They won’t feel lonely here. I’ll make sure of it.”

He thinks he might say it then and there.

I love you.

But the sentence never seems to make it past his lips.

VI.

Maybe it’s time to address it.

“Oh, fuck, Sylus…”

A simple late night phone call, whispers of I miss you, and all of a sudden, you’re at his door, your eyes dark as you step inside, throwing off your coat and wrapping your arms around his neck before he can react.

“Sylus… please…”

Sylus smirks as he sucks at the skin on your inner thigh, using enough pressure to leave a hickey that will last for at least three days, maybe a week. A reminder that he’s been there; been to a place reserved only for him.

“Does it feel good, Kitten?” he asks, gently stroking the bruise, his scarlet eyes glowing as he looks at you with lust.

“Yes…please don’t stop…” you trail off as his lips trail kisses down your thighs, your hands sliding to hold his hair between your fingers as he gets closer and closer to the spot where you need him the most.

“You’re so wet, Sweetie,” he breathes, voice low as he stares at your heat. “Such a good girl…tell me…do you want it?”

“Yes…please… fuck Sylus, I need you so bad,” you moan, using your hands to guide him between your thighs, his breath warm

Yeah, maybe now’s not a good time to address it.

Sylus can sense your neediness, his cock straining against his trousers as his mouth finds your heat, moaning as you squeeze his head gently between your thighs, his tongue working inside you as you slowly begin to unravel. Your body begins to tremble because fuck, Sylus always makes you feel like heaven is a place on earth, tucked away here, on his four-poster bed, in between cool silk sheets.

And Sylus, well, he’s seeing stars, eating you out as if you might disappear tomorrow. His hands spread your legs wider, trying to find the best angle to make you fall apart. He fucking loves seeing you like this, loves the way you both submit yourselves to each other. A newfound trust that means more to Sylus than any protocore in all of Deepspace.

He continues to fuck you with his mouth, the taste of you like honey on his tongue.

“Sylus…I think…I’m…ugh …” you trail off again, biting your lip as a familiar feeling builds inside you.

Sylus smirks, and you can feel it between your legs. You tug on his hair a little harder, urging him to just fuck you more, because, Christ, you’re so fucking close. He seems to get the message, and begins to fuck you faster with his tongue, using his hands to guide your hips so they’re rutting against his hot mouth.

He’s so fucking hard, he thinks maybe he could come like this, with your hands in his hair and his head between your legs. He knows you’re close, can sense it in the way you’re moving, so he decides to help you a little, his fingers creeping up to your clit before they begin to massage the bundle of nerves slowly, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Baby…gonna…gonna come soon,” you whine, the world spinning as your head falls against the mattress.

A growl leaves his lips. “Then come for me, my darling.”

And that’s all it takes for you to fall apart, and Sylus, the angel he is, keeps going until you pull him out, whining at him, tugging at his shirt to bring him closer to you.

“I need you in me, baby.”

People think he’s a strong man, yet a single sentence from you can make him fold like a sheet of paper.

“Are you sure?” he asks, shutting his eyes and letting out a quiet sigh of pleasure as your hands find their way to the bulge straining against his trousers.

“Of course.”

Sylus flips you over, moving so his back can lie against the headboard. He uses his Evol to place you strategically on his lap as your fingers begin to undo his belt and zipper.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans, dizzy with pleasure as you wrap your hand around his aching length. Even with your two hands wrapped around him, his cock is huge. The thought of it inside of you is making you wet again.

“Lie back,” you order, and Sylus obliges, his eyes glowing through the soft haze of his bedroom.

He squeezes your ass as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock, a loud cry escaping your lips. Even after doing this a few times, you still get surprised at his size, but his length sliding into you always feels like a home run. Sylus thinks you were made to take him like this; your body moulded just for him.

“You’re so tight,” Sylus moans, his forehead falling against your chest. He places a soft kiss to your cleavage before bucking his hips up a few times until suddenly he starts pounding into you, your moans drowning out the squeaks from the bed frame.

Good thing he sent Luke and Kieran out on a few errands. Sylus doesn’t think they’d recover from the noises you two are making.

“Sylus, baby, faster, ” you beg, gripping his shoulders for support, your hips grinding on his cock. “Fuck, you always feel so good.”

“You too, my darling. You’re fucking made for me. Always feels like heaven being inside of you,” Sylus growls, his hips fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

Heavy breathing and the sweet scent of sex fills the room as you both rock your hips in harmony, pulling each other closer and closer to the edge. Sylus can feel his orgasm building in his stomach. He needs to feel you more.

“S-Sylus…” you pant, your legs beginning to ache a bit. “More. Please. I need…I need more .”

Yeah, he thinks he does too.

Without warning, he pulls out of you, switching positions and pushing you on to the mattress before thrusting back into you with full force. Your hands fly to your mouth as you cry out in pleasure.

Sylus tuts, removing your hands, interlocking your fingers with his own above your head as he fucks you slow and hard.

“It’s okay. No one’s home. I want to hear your sweet little moans, Kitten,” he coos, leaning down and kissing your neck.

You shut your eyes, letting your voice echo around the room.

“I think I’m close, baby,” you breathe.

Sylus nods into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to pick up speed again, the sound of skin slapping skin getting louder and louder.

“I have you, darling,” he pants, looking into your eyes with sincerity. “So be a good girl and come for me again.”

“You too,” you whine, thrusting your hips up to meet him halfway.

“Fuck …” Sylus grunts, his hips stuttering as the feeling in his stomach comes to a boil.

He’s not sure which of you comes first, all he knows is that suddenly everything feels warm, and when it’s all over, the earth seems to stop spinning, and nothing matters but the two of you together like this.

Time slows down after that. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, a silence that remains as he cleans you, a soft towel wiping over your damp skin before he wraps you in one of his silk robes. He doesn’t bother asking you if you’re staying over tonight. It’s an unspoken agreement that has become a silent habit.

More time passes. Somewhere in between the post-sex conversations and after-midnight kisses, you fall asleep in Sylus’ bed, the moonlight slicing through the gaps in the curtains, shining on your bare skin, making it look like you’re made of pure starlight.

As you sleep, Sylus tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers gentle words into the night air.

“You are my sun and my stars. My fate is yours, for eternity. In my past life, in this life, and in every life to come after, I will be yours if you’ll allow it.”

Sylus wonders why vulnerability comes out easier under darkness than in daylight.

VII.

Glittering chandeliers and bubbly champagne. Jewel encrusted cutlery and a grandiose ice sculpture; yet all the riches in the world pale in comparison when placed next to you.

Or at least, that’s what Sylus thinks, as he takes your hand, your high heels unsteady as you step out of the limousine he had prepared for the evening. It’s not often he accepts invitations to grand events such as Galas and Balls. His time is precious, and these events require a lot of false smiles and forced conversations.

But as he looks at you – your shimmering ball gown twinkling in the moonlight, the pearl necklace glowing against the soft skin of your neck that he likes to trace when the world is asleep – he thinks it might be worth it this one time.

He leads you towards the entrance, admiring how the crowd parts for the two of you. The feeling of power; it’s addictive. Sylus has lived with it for so long that after a while, it made him a little jaded. But even the heaviest of snowfall melts over time, and as he watches your eyes sparkle as he leads you towards the ballroom, he regrets every second he wasted not searching for you.

Not that he ever gave up, either.

The ballroom is as extravagant as the ones described in a child’s fairytale. A roof with a Renaissance style fresco that stretches for miles, long tables with all the food from every corner of the world. Champagne fountains, decadent cakes, and you – having drifted away from his side to admire the scene – standing in the middle of it all. A single snowdrop. His flower.

“Good evening Mister Sylus.” Sylus nods at a couple as they greet him. Friends of Onychinus that would probably stab him in the back if he hadn't of invited them to this event.

“Good evening,” Sylus replies, still not taking his eyes off you.

“It’s not often that you grace us with your presence at these events,” the woman says, eyeing him with a look that could turn even the sweetest fruit sour.

“I have to keep an eye on things after the explosion incidents in Linkon.”

“Ah, I see. Terrible how our own can turn on us just like that.”

Sylus doesn’t even bother reacting, the conversation already boring him.

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere I need to be,” Sylus says, excusing himself and making his way over to you. He stifles a laugh as he spots you helping yourself to the cakes and pastries on the table.

“Hungry, Kitten?”

You turn around and pout at him, your mouth full of cake. Sylus tuts as he wipes away the frosting on your lips.

“I’m starving,” you groan through a mouthful of cake, to which Sylus laughs. He licks his finger, tasting the frosting he wiped off your lips. It’s a bit sweet for his palette, but if it’s something you enjoy, then he’d eat ten slices of cake just to see your smile.

“Have you been enjoying yourself?” He reaches out to adjust the ruby crow brooch on your dress. “Collected enough intel to bring back to the Hunters Academy?”

“I’m not here on business,” you huff.

Sylus lightly flicks your forehead. “But an intelligent Hunter like you never takes a day off.”

He smiles down at you, just as the orchestra begins to play a bright piece of music, making people flood to the floor for a dance.

“May I?” Sylus holds out his hand.

“Are you asking me to dance?”

“It would be a shame to have all our practice go to waste,” Sylus says, his mind thinking back to a couple of nights ago.

"One two three, one two three…”

Sylus tries to suppress his laughter as he watches you stumble around, trying to keep your pace in time with the waltz crackling through his vintage gramophone. He tries to guide you carefully in the right direction, one hand on your waist as he elegantly glides across the marble floor, but this only makes you step on his toes again.

“Are you even trying, kitten?”

“It’s a lot harder than it looks!” you argue, trying your best to avoid stepping on his toes again. “And I’m not used to wearing heels.”

Sylus sighs and stops dancing, causing you to collide into his chest, but he anticipates this and catches you in his arms.

"How about we change tactics?” he asks. He lifts you gently so that you end up standing with your feet on top of his.

“Watch and learn.”

Sylus uses his Evol to place your hands on his shoulders as his hands find their way onto your hips. He sways you both gently, his eyes focused on you, his heartbeat steady as he sways to the waltz. He picks you up and spins you around, causing you to squeal as you rise high into the air like a dove before he pulls you back into his arms.

The memory warms him as he thinks about it. Fills his chest with butterflies as he watches you dance once more, except this time, your eyebrows are furrowed in full concentration. You’re trying for him, and he adores you for it.

As the waltz continues, Sylus finds himself becoming lost in the music, the room fading away until all he can see is you. Your eyes on his, his eyes on yours. You spin and step together in harmony; two souls in matrimony.

“Kitten,” Sylus says, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “In case I forget to tell you later…” he trails off as he gently presses a kiss to your neck.

“Not even the brightest stars could take away from your beauty tonight.”

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Later on, Sylus takes you out to the garden for some fresh air. Under the stars, your flushed cheeks from the heat of the ballroom glow like cherry wine. You find a private spot in the maze made of hedges and take a seat on a small bench surrounded by roses.

Sylus kisses the crown of your head as you lay on his shoulder, a comfortable silence surrounding you both. Your skin is still flushed by the alcohol. Sylus suspects you’re a little tipsy from all the champagne.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Sylus shifts his gaze to your pouting face.

“Should I tell Luke and Kieran to get the guest room ready?”

You pinch his side with your fingers. “I think there’s enough room in your custom made, luxury bed for one more person. Plus, you and I both know I’ve only slept in the guest room once.”

Sylus smiles down at you.

“And if I don’t want to share my bed tonight?”

You yawn, shutting your eyes and nuzzling your face into his jacket.

“You can sleep on the floor then.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.”

“I know.”

“You know.”

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

On the drive home, you end up falling asleep. Not wanting to wake you up, Sylus carries you to his room and tucks you in, gently removing your makeup with the cleanser he keeps on standby when you visit.

Although he tries his best to make sure you stay asleep, you stir a little at his touch, mumbling something as he wipes away the last of your mascara.

“WhereamI?” you croak, eyes flickering as you try to sit up. But Sylus shushes you, gently pushing you back onto the mattress, and assures you that everything is fine. That you just fell asleep on the way home.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, you shut your eyes and pull Sylus down with you, burying your face into his chest as he falls into bed next to you.

“Promise me you’ll stay until I fall asleep,” you whisper into his ear. It sends shivers down his spine. A promise is a heavy burden for a dragon. Not that he is one anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about the past, forgotten about what it actually means if he breaks one.

What if one day he makes you another one he can’t keep?

“Sylus?” A hand reaches out through the dim light and pokes his face. “Are you still here?”

Fuck it. He’s already this deep anyway. Running would be futile at this stage. Maybe it’s time to stop being afraid. He catches your hand in his and presses your fingertips to his lips.

“I’m still here,” he whispers. “And I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile, your eyes still closed. “Goodnight Sylus.”

“Goodnight.”

True to his word, he stays until you fall asleep. In fact, he lays beside you until the sun rises.

And when you wake up and find him asleep next to you, the sunlight creeping in through the curtains making him frown in slumber, you pull the duvet over both of your heads, a smile spreading across your lips as you curl into his chest.

Sundays are for sleeping in anyways.

VIII.

As Summer draws to a close, Sylus finally finds a day to take you hiking to a place outside of Linkon where no one will recognise him. He picks you up late in the afternoon, the plan being to reach the summit by sunset.

Even though he’s become accustomed to cold nights, Sylus has grown to enjoy the feeling of the warm Summer wind in his air, one hand on the steering wheel, the other shifting the gear stick as you sing along to the radio, him occasionally joining in, which only causes you to burst into a fit of laughter every time.

It’s not often he’s awake during the day, but recently he’s begun to embrace the light. Maybe because it highlights your beauty in all its glory. Loving you has changed a lot of things for Sylus, has made him feel stronger, yet more vulnerable at the same time.

And he’s been watching you grow too, like a flower that blooms in adversity, slowly, but surely. Through all the pain in your heart, you still have managed to flourish, and it makes him proud, seeing how strong you’ve become since he found you again in this lifetime.

“Sylus, up ahead, look!” You point excitedly to the mountain in the near distance. Sylus hums as he steps on the gas pedal, not wanting to waste another second in his thoughts.

The sun is already beginning to dip into the horizon as Sylus pulls into the parking lot. He grabs your bags from the trunk as you tie your shoe laces and check your Hunter’s watch, scanning through the exact route that you both had planned together.

“If we leave now, we should make it to the top by sunset,” you say, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you examine the route.

Sylus takes your hand in his. “Lead the way, Miss Hunter.”

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

By the time the two of you reach the summit, most of the crowds from the afternoon have dispersed, leaving behind a tranquil atmosphere. The air is a little crisp, the early signs of Autumn creeping into the dregs of Summer. Sylus notices you shivering slightly as you both look out at the view. Without a word, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. You give him a grateful look.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, breaking the silence, eyes gazing at the sweeping landscape below.

“You weren’t kidding about the view. It’s breathtaking. I feel like I can touch the sky.” You reach out into the air, basking in the last rays of light of the day, smiling at Sylus with all the warmth of the sun.

“You’re right,” Sylus says softly, watching how the light casts a golden glow on your skin, as if you’re an angel and all he can do is pray to heaven they’ll let him keep you on earth.

“It’s beautiful.”

In this exact moment, Sylus knows the time has come. He has to tell you.

He clears his throat. “Sweetie, I–”

“S’mores for sale! Get your s’mores here!”

Sylus curses as a stall owner starts causing a ruckus a few metres away.

“Oh my god, I haven’t had s’mores since I was a kid!” you squeal with excitement. Sylus can feel his eye twitch slightly as you grab his hand and pull him in the direction of the food stall, a steady queue already beginning to form.

“What even is a s’more?” he grumbles, still feeling a little disgruntled that his big speech was rudely interrupted.

“Wait, you’ve never had a s’more before? I thought you went camping all the time.”

“And what has camping got to do with these so-called s’mores?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. “S’mores are like…the best campfire treat ever! Warm chocolate and toasted marshmallows all squished between two graham crackers.” You mime squashing the s’more between the palms of your hands.

“And voilà! The best snack you’ll ever have in your life, all put together in less than a minute.”

“Sounds like a one way trip to diabetes.”

“You’re such an old man sometimes.”

“I suppose I am ninety years old. If you believe the rumours that is.”

You both continue to bicker back and forth until you finally get to the top of the queue. Sylus doesn’t even get a chance to argue before you order two s’mores, slapping a handful of coins onto the counter.

The smell of sugar fills the air as he allows you to drag him to a secluded spot on the summit with a bench overlooking Linkon. By now, the city’s lights are slowly beginning to flicker on as the sun continues to lower itself deeper and deeper into the horizon.

A fond smile ghosts his lips as he notices that you're halfway through your s’more, chocolate smeared on the corner of your mouth.

“This is the best day ever,” you say dreamily, your eyes shining as you once again admire the view. Finishing the last of your s’more, you lean against Sylus’ shoulder, sighing with satisfaction as you pat your stomach dramatically.

Afraid the chocolate will melt and stain his hands, Sylus begins to eat his own s’more, his nose scrunching at the taste.

“As expected, this is nothing but pure sugar.”

“Aw c’mon, it’s delicious,” you huff, taking the s’more from his hands and waving it in his face.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his eyebrow raised with suspicion.

“Say aaaah!” You shove the s’more into his mouth, forcing him to take another bite. He coughs as the sickeningly sweet taste of the s'more fills his mouth again, but he finishes it anyway.

Not before he jabs you in the ribs for fun, of course.

“Okay, okay! I surrender. It tickles too much!” you wheeze as he continues to jab you with his fingertips.

Satisfied, Sylus leans in and wipes the chocolate from your face with his thumb.

“Are all kittens this messy?” he teases, and before you can complain, he presses his lips briefly against yours, smirking as he pulls away.

Cheeks flushing, you have no idea how to react to that, so instead you bury your face in Sylus’ sweater, trying to hide your blush from him.

You sit in a comfortable silence after that, Sylus holding you close as you both take in the sunset together. He can feel your heartbeat, can feel the steady rhythm that brought him to you through Deepspace. He thinks if he had to go through all those years of loneliness again just to hold you like this for even a second, well, he’d do it all over again with zero hesitations.

And just like that, like a puzzle sliding into place, like a shooting star finding its way home, the universe whispers for him to bring the crescendo of his unspoken symphony to its climax.

“I love you.”

Those three words; they’ll never be enough.

But for now, they’ll do.

“I love you,” he repeats, just as the sun sinks into the horizon and the moon becomes visible. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Kitten. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“Oh, Sylus, my beautiful, beautiful Sylus.”

Warm hands reach out as you turn to cup his face, tears glistening in your eyes as you laugh with disbelief.

“I know. I know you love me, even though you’ve never said it to me before. Your actions, they’re enough. You, right next to me…it will always be enough.”

He stares at you with nothing but pure reverence in his eyes.

“And for the record, I love you too.”

At your confession, Sylus wraps his arms around your waist as you continue to hold his face firmly in your palms. Under the twilight, you both stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, the darkness in Sylus’ heart finally fading away into something warm, something golden. Something that can only be described as love.

And as you kiss under the magenta sky, Sylus knows that no matter where fate tries to hide you, he’ll always find you.

Because home is wherever you are.

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #fanfic #lads sylus #lads #sylus #qin che #sylus x reader #fluff #smut #sylus is so loverboy coded #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #loveanddeepspace #one shot #soft #sylus never beating the the no.1 yearner of the year allegations

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revasserium · 11 months ago

Text

loving you was red

sylus; 4,627 words; fluff, banter, no "y/n", mild spoilers for sylus's main storyline, subtle but not so subtle flirting, nicknames (kitten, little crow), kinda enemies to lovers

summary: the beginning of everything, all in shades of red

a/n: this was supposed to be fun lil drabble; alas, that's not what it turned out to be, but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. i had fun with the banter in this one u__u

001. fire and brimstone

The city below is a shatter of broken stars, and from up this high, none of it seems real. You cannot reconcile the sight of all those scattered, pinpoints of light with the lives you know shine behind them. You cannot imagine sitting in your living room, scrolling through your news-feed, waiting for the water to boil for late night ramen.

“Trouble sleeping?”

You congratulate yourself on not wincing, on keeping perfectly still.

Sylus joins you by the window, his arms looped lazily in front of his chest, his dark silk robe falling open to reveal his chest. You keep your eyes resolutely on the technicolored skyline.

“Yeah,” you say, feigning a yawn, “just something about being held captive against my will that just… messes with my circadian rhythm, y’know?”

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through him, low enough to make you shiver.

“Don’t tell a girl like you still needs someone to sing her to sleep.” He’s teasing. You know he is, and yet you can’t keep the heat from clawing up the back of your neck. You scowl, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

“What gives you that idea?” you ask, still in your flailing attempt to seem calm, seem collected.

"Nothing in particular… just… the twins found a shocking number of plushies in your room so —”

"You had them go through my stuff?” you round on him, glaring, your fingers clenched into fists.

Sylus shrugs, peering at you out the corner of his eye, an amused grin ticking at his mouth.

“Feisty little kitten, aren’t you? Though for what it’s worth — they didn’t find much on how your Evol works.”

You huff, turning back to the floor to ceiling windows, knitting your arms tightly across your chest.

“You heard the shopkeeper — we have to — to…” you trail off, the words caught in the back of your throat like peach pits, hard and large and impossible to stomach. You flush, biting down on your lips.

“To what, hm?” Sylus sounds amused, and it’s this more than anything that spurs you onwards.

You turn to glare at him, “To not hate each other!”

Sylus cocks a single, arched brow.

“So, do you?”

You blink, feeling the ever-present heat prickling into your cheeks as you stare resolutely at the skyline outside. From this distance, Linkon City could be any other city, with it’s towering skyscrapers and twinkling lights.

“Do I what?” you ask, your voice softer as you try to pinpoint the exact location of where you used to live.

“Hate me.”

You turn; in the dimness, all you can see of Sylus is his firebrand eyes and his stone-cut features. The dark curve of his mouth and the sharp jut of his nose. When he turns to meet your gaze, you can barely stifle your gasp — his eyes are so red, so deep and strange.

“Brimstone…” you say, without really thinking about it.

Confusion flickers across his vulturine features.

“Hm?”

You lick your lips, feeling the dryness that had since collected there.

“Brimstone,” you say again, shaking your head and averting your eyes, only for Sylus to catch your chin in his fingers and force you to look back at him, to be swallowed up by his gaze, “it’s… something from… the ancient religions. It’s — back when they believed in gods and monsters, people would use the word brimstone to signify divine wrath…”

His finger slacken on your chin and you let your head fall as he takes half a step away.

He lets out a mirthless laugh, his eyes faraway as he stares out at Linkon City, laid out before his feet.

“I can’t say I know much about gods, but… monsters?”

You swallow, feeling the imprint of his fingers on your skin.

He turns back to look at you, his gaze soft, but no less startling. You feel an unnamable fire frisson up your spine and skitter back down again.

“Monsters are very, very real,” he leans in, closing gap between your body and his, till he has you nearly caged against the cool glass of the penthouse windows. He shifts to brush away a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with too-gentle fingers. His next words are whispered, his voice in a register so low it almost sounds like the shadow of sound — he leans in, his lips brushing by your cheek till you can feel the heat of his breath right next to your ear —

“And they look just like you and me.”

002. lipstick

“So at the auction —”

“Just do as I say, and you’ll get what you want.”

You narrow your eyes in the mirror, staring at the reflection of Sylus fastening a pair of ornate silver cufflinks to his impeccably tailored suit.

“Give me one reason to trust you,” you say.

Sylus looks up, a hand still on his cuffs as he meets your gaze in the mirror, unflinching.

“Since when have I ever asked you to trust me?”

Over on the dresser, Mephisto lets out a soft caw that sounds almost mocking. You swirl to glare at him and he has the decency to flap his mechanical wings, shuffling until he’s hidden from view behind Sylus’s shadow.

Sylus laughs, “Alright — settle down, little crow.”

You frown, “Little crow? What happened to kitten?”

Sylus shrugs, “Changed my mind. Figured little crow fits you a bit better. You know — loud, defiant…” he smirks as his voice trails off.

You don’t try to hide your consternation, “Often associated with murder?”

Behind him, Mephisto lets out an indignant ca-caw.

You try to sidestep Sylus, only to find yourself trapped against the mirror by his strong arms. He grins down at you, his canines flashing over his lower lip as he cocks his head.

“Like I said, fits better, no?” he asks.

You stare up at him, trying to make out what he’s thinking behind those firelight eyes of his.

“Let me go — I still need to finish my makeup,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest. You try not to think about the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch, or the heat of his skin, even through all these layers of clothing.

“What else is there?” he asks, his eyes flickering over your features; you shiver, feeling the weight of his gaze as it sweeps over your face like a sudden flare of heat, “you look pretty finished to me.”

You lick your lips, and feel a strange, savage satisfaction at the tick of his eyes down to your mouth, at the way his pupils dilate, at how they track the slow progress of your tongue as it laves across your bottom lip before disappearing back into your mouth.

“Lipstick,” you say, trying not to sound too smug.

Sylus puffs out a laugh before reaching over to the low dressing table and grabbing a tube of lipstick. He uncaps it with a finger, and twists out the color without once breaking your gaze. Vaguely, you feel your stomach tense, and you ponder the unfairness of this one, single act — how could he look so stupidly attractive doing all this when he’s got you trapped here? Like some sort of exotic songbird in a golden cage.

“T-that’s not the color I wanted —” you say, but even to your own ears, you don’t sound convincing.

Sylus’s smile slackens into a lopsided smirk as he tilts your chin up to press the cream of the lipstick to your lips, dragging it delicately across one way, then back the other.

“Press your lips,” he says, his voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You do, feeling a stifling thump-thump-thump rise up to beat against the back of your throat as his eyes flick down to watch you.

“Mm… as I thought, this color looks great on you,” he says, pulling back to admire his handiwork.

You feel the air rush back into your lungs in a single, searing breath, caught between the urge to brace your arms against your knees and heave, or to drag your hand across your mouth to rid yourself of the lipstick.

You do neither though, because at that moment, the twins call from outside the door —

“Auction’s about to start!” says Luke.

“Hope you’re both ready!” says Kieran.

Sylus straightens, capping the lipstick with a sharp click. You force yourself to calm down, to focus on your breathing — four counts in, seven counts out.

“Are you ready?” Sylus asks, his tone once more whiskey-smooth and just as potent.

You roll back your shoulders and give a quick nod, speaking to yourself just as much as you’re speaking to him —

“Sure. Let’s get this over with.”

003. blood and roses

There’s blood on your hands and blood on the pavement. The world shimmers around you in wildfire and smoke.

“… so… so much blood…”

“You can’t die here —” Sylus’s voice cuts through the memory like a struck chord, resonating inside you till it’s the only thing you can hear, “that life you owe me? It’s not your time to pay it back yet!”

You reach for him, and the moment you feel your palms connect, a bead of heat pulses out from the center of your clasping hands. Your skin is slick with sweat and blood, but his hand beneath you is oddly cool and smooth.

The charred ashes of the beaten Wanderer fall around you like flakes of misbegotten snow; you wave your free hand to keep the pieces from falling into your eyes. A river of light seeps from the Deepspace Tunnel into the center of your chest, glowing brighter and brighter until it coalesces into a familiar gem-like shape.

It comes to a rest between your fingers seconds before it cracks, the light flickering once along the seam before going out.

“It — the Aether Core —!”

“It’s power is yours now. Why’re you so surprised?” Sylus doesn’t let go of your hand, but realizing this, you pull away first, and he makes no move to stop you.

“D-did you know?” you ask, unable to keep the accusation from seeping into your voice.

“Does it make a difference?”

You clamp down hard on your bottom lip, weighing the answers. It isn’t until you reach up to absently card your hand through your hair that you notice — your wrist and his, linked together by a tangible string of red, pulsing power.

You gasp, “W-what —?”

“Tch.”

You wave your wrist, watching as Sylus’s hand follows the movement. Your cheeks darken as he looks away, sighing audibly.

“If you planned this —!” but your words are cut short by a sudden wave of vertigo — the world spins around you and for a second, all you can see is the pinwheeling stars above you, the bright, pulsating edges of the Deepspace Tunnel, and then — everything fades to a sweet, merciful darkness.

You wake up to the smell of roses, and a warm body next to yours. Groaning, you try to shield your eyes from the light filtering through the massive windows.

It takes you a second to orient yourself, and to realize why your wrist seems so heavy as you try to lift a hand and rub at your eyes.

“Looks like you’re up early, though Mephisto still has you beat.”

You blink blearily up at Sylus, sitting next to you in bed, his back propped up on a fortress of pillows, a tablet in one hand, the other still linked to your wrist, half-raised to your face.

You squeak, ducking down to hide beneath the covers, hurriedly wiping at your eyes and your mouth, a mix of horror and embarrassment mounting in your stomach as you realized you must have been drooling in your sleep.

“What did you do to me?!” you demand, pulling back the covers when you’re somewhat certain that you don’t still have drool-marks at the corners of your mouth.

Sylus, for his part, looks only mildly ruffled by your sudden stint back to wakefulness. He takes his time setting down the tablet with his free hand and picking up the steaming mug of black coffee.

“You fainted,” he says, as if that explains everything, “after the resonance worked. Though it makes sense you would — after finally getting the Aether Core and all —”

“No! I mean —” you gesture desperately between you, the pristine linen sheets twisting around you both like waves on a white-sand beach, “how did I — we — get here? Who changed me?” you ask, your cheeks flaring up even as Sylus sips at his coffee, seemingly content to watch you sputter yourself dry.

“Really? After all that, the first question you have is who changed your clothes?” Sylus asks, a distinct tone of mockery clear in his every word.

“Shut up! You know what I mean!”

“Do I? I don’t think I do — you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” He grins, all splitting lips and too-white teeth. You stare, dumbfounded at his nonchalant expression before huffing and slumping back into your own pile of pillows. You blink, throwing up your free hand to shield yourself from the too-bright light of sunrise, shining straight into your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sylus taps a few buttons on his tablet and the windows darken, filtering out the harsh morning light, leaving the pair of you in a dim, yet luminous shadow.

“I just —” you cut yourself off before you can ask yet another mundane question, and finally, after a few minutes of mulling over what exactly it is you want to ask, you settle on, “what now?”

Sylus shrugs, casting his eyes back down at his tablet, setting his half-drunk cup of coffee on the bedside table.

“Now, we do whatever we want. You have your Aether Core and I have mine,” he lifts up his wrist, shaking yours in the process, “and we try to figure out how to manage this.”

“And if we don’t?” you ask dryly.

Sylus chuckles, “Then, we figure out a way to live with it.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily, “Ugh. Of all the people to be stuck to…” you mutter to yourself. And though you’d said it quiet enough for it to be an afterthought, both of you knew Sylus had been too close not to hear.

He scoffs, pulling you close, tipping you off balance so that you topple face-first into his chest.

“Wake up, little crow,” he says, his tone caught halfway between mocking and maleficence, twisting your face till you’re forced to stare out of the window at the dulled-out skyline below.

“You think you’re so great, being a Hunter and getting rid of Wanderers,” he says, a sharp venom seeping into his words as he speaks, and slowly, he punches a button the tablet that makes the windows un-tint themselves.

You watch as the sunrise bleeds itself dry over Linkon City, the harsh, morning light slicking the entire city in a vapid, orange glow.

“The brighter the light, the darker the shadow — do you really think that just because you and your little Hunter friends are out there killing Wanderers and saving the world, that there isn’t the a need for people like us?” Sylus pushes you away from him. It’s not a harsh move, but it’s not exactly gentle either.

And again, you can’t help feeling the imprint of his fingers, almost as if burned into your skin as your rub at your jaw.

It’s when you turn to glare at him that you meet his gaze and find him staring at you with a look that’s much more haunting than ghost. Much more longing than loathe.

“Well… you’re one of us now. And newsflash, little crow — sometimes, the world just doesn’t want to be saved.”

You let his words sit with you, like river stones, hard and smooth, feeling them sink slowly down the length of your throat to settle somewhere in the wide basin on your stomach. You avert your eyes, and it’s only then that you notice the bouquet of flowers sitting on your bedside table.

“What are the roses for?” you ask, reaching out your free hand to run a thumb along a single, velvet petal. It comes off at your touch, and you watch it fall against the unmarred white marble of the table top.

“A little present,” Sylus says, waving you away, “a thank you - for a job well done last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone, “it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“You did,” Sylus says, “you could’ve killed me. And you didn’t.

“I could still kill you now,” you say, though there’s no conviction in your voice at all. Instead, you reach out to tug at another dark red petal. It comes off just as easily as the one before.

“You could. But you haven’t. And don’t you think that warrants a reward?”

004. dawn

“I’ve never hated you, you know.”

You frown, squinting against the early-morning light.

It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself waking up next to him, and you think it won’t be the last. You flip onto your side to face him, feeling a familiar rush of heat crest into your chest as you come nearly nose to nose with him.

Sylus barely even flinches, cocking an eyebrow before reaching out to tug a stray piece of hair from your face.

“What?” you ask, even though you know full well what he’d said. So maybe, you just wanted to hear it again — is that so terrible?

“Hn,” Sylus grins, rolling onto his back to cast his eyes up at the ceiling, “I said you’re getting drool on my pillows.”

You squeak, fumbling to wipe at your face before the realization hits, and you jerk up, pouting.

“That’s not what you said!”

“Then you did hear,” Sylus casts you an amused glance.

You lick your lips, the soft cotton of sleep still muffling the world such that everything except him feels strangely out of focus.

“I — I heard… a word here and there —”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

You scowl, whipping around to pin him with a stare, “Where I come from, that’s not a bad thing.”

Sylus’s eyes tick towards you, his expression amused as he appraises you, and not for the first time, you feel yourself go warm beneath the solar-storm fixation of his attention. Like this, you can feel the air between you blistering, as oil to a lit fuse, as his eyes travel over the planes of your face, the curve of your shoulder, the thin silk strap that had since slipped to cling to your upper arm.

“No? I suppose not,” he concedes, pushing himself up, reaching over the bedside table to push at a small button on the far side. Somewhere else in the penthouse, you can hear an alarm bell ring.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing.

“Coffee,” he answers, and you fall silent again, turning your face away from him to look back at the heartbreak city, carved in shadows against dawn’s liquid light. It’d only been — what — a week? A bit more? And yet you can’t bring yourself to see the city the same.

Nothing has changed — not really.

But everything’s different, you think, as the door on the far side of the bedroom cracks open and Luke peers in with a smug smile and two steaming cups of coffee.

“Black for the boss, and milk and sugar and all the trimmings for the little crow.”

Sylus tsks, a frown digging itself into the space between his eyebrows, his eyes flashing as he takes the two cups. Luke, to his credit, jerks back, dancing out of Sylus’s reach.

“Ah — sorry, sorry — didn’t know that was a special nickname,” he says, making a show of stooping to apologize, though neither of you miss the jesting crow beneath his voice.

“Out.” Sylus orders, and Luke doesn’t waste time scurrying from the room, cackling beneath his breath like a gleeful child.

You take your cup from his hand and give it a dainty sip, adjusting yourself against the pile of pillows.

“What? I thought that nickname was your idea.”

“It is,” Sylus says, relaxing back. The tether between your wrists sits slack and nearly invisible on the sheets between you. He stares down at the dark liquid surface of his own cup before turning to smirk at you, “doesn’t mean it was meant to be shared.”

You clamp down on another wash of heat, threatening your cheeks as you sink a bit deeper into the luxurious bedding. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to sleep on sheets this nice again once you figure out how to break the tether between you and you’re finally allowed to go home.

“Why say it where other people can hear if you didn’t want them to pick it up?” you shoot back, determined to get the last say, at least in this.

Sylus sets down his cup, cocking his head to look at you, “It’s not a joke if there’s no one around to hear the punchline.”

You level him with a glare, “Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem if I’m just your captor, right?”

You open your mouth to retort, only to find your voice stolen by the sight of him, kissed gold by the rising sun. You’ve never been one to obsess over beauty but even you can’t pretend to be unaffected.

Like this, he looks hewn from marble, a statue at the loving hands of a besotted sculptor — a lazy god rendered into silk and stone. He is smooth skin and burning eyes and a jawline that might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. There’s a base carnality in the way he looks at you (and looks at you) — his gaze so penetrating that somehow, you don’t think you’ve ever been seen this way before.

There’s a damnable elegance to him, even as his lips twitch up into a tell-tale smirk.

“What?” he asks, leaning forward just an inch, but the distance feels exaggerated by your closeness, such that suddenly, you’ve got to lean back to look into his face. He licks his own lips languorously, and you feel your chest tighten on a torque, caught in the turn of his smile.

“Kitten got your tongue?” he asks.

You shake yourself, shifting back slightly, “You’re mixing your metaphors,” you say, trying to keep your eyes from straying back to his face.

“They’re my metaphors to do with as I wish. So. Aren’t you going to answer?”

“Answer what?”

“What you think you heard me say, right before you woke up.”

You cup your palms around your coffee mug, feeling its heat seep steadily into your skin. There’s a familiar tingle at the tips of your ears and you know you’re already blushing.

Stupid coffee, you think, trying hard to school your expression into a frown, stupid Sylus, you add to yourself, taking a long sip and biting back your sigh of relief at the mundane magic of caffeine and sugar.

“Does it matter what I think?” you sidestep the question.

Sylus doesn’t miss a beat, “If it didn’t, would I have asked?”

The torniquet in your chest twists tight enough to make your stomach flip as well. You chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your answer.

“I never hated you…” you say, finally, your voice barely more than a whisper or a breath. And even as the words fall from you like so many rose petals, you’re unsure if you’re repeating his words back at him or making an admission of your own.

Sylus only shifts back to his side of the bed, leaning against his pile of pillows. Your wrists sit atop the sheets, inches apart, and yet you can’t deny the dull pull of gravity between you, as if something beneath your skin is itching to be close to his.

You turn to face him, twisting your fingers in your lap.

The quiet softens around you both, settling until you let out another long breath.

“So…” you drag out the word as Sylus glances up at you, expectant. His eyes flicker with the fire of the rising dawn behind you, and in them, you can see the shadow of yourself, painted in darkness against the light.

“What’s for breakfast?” you ask.

Sylus chuckles, his head listing sideways as he studies you.

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Hm…” you make a show of swinging your legs out of the bed, shivering slightly as your feet come into contact with the cool marble floors, “are there pancakes?”

Sylus stretches his arms over his head, letting out a soft groan that evokes something inside you that you’d rather not examine at the moment. You keep yourself turned resolutely away from him even as you hear the distinct sounds of him getting out of bed as well.

“No, but there can be — you only need ask.”

“Fine, I want pancakes,” you say, finally turning around, only to find him standing right behind you, his silk robe discarded on the floor by the bed, his chest broad and entirely bare. Your breath catches in your throat as he cocks an eyebrow.

“Is that asking?”

You crinkle your nose, forcing air back into your lungs.

“Okay, okay — can we have pancakes?”

Amusement dances behind his eyes as he bends over you, propping a hand casually on the dresser behind you to limit your movements.

“And the magic word?”

You narrow your eyes, “Nevermind!”

“Mm — wrong. Two more tries.”

You try to duck under his arm but he catches you easily, spinning you back around to face him, nearly sweeping Mephisto from his perch on the dresser. The crow lets out an offended caw and flaps off towards the far end of the room, coming to a disgruntled rest on the back of a satin loveseat.

“Let me go!”

“Wrong again — last chance.”

You sink your nails into the skin of his forearm, trying not to think of the taut muscles corded there. He doesn’t even wince, though for a second, the tether between your wrists flares up like a fanned flame.

“Fine! Please!”

Sylus straightens with a satisfied smirk, turning around to make for the bedroom door. Your chest is heaving, and the sudden space between you make your head spin. You blink at his retreating form, and it isn’t till he reaches the door that he turns to glance at you over his shoulder.

“Hope you like raspberry jam.”

You level your breathing and hurry to catch up, clutching your own sleeping robe tighter around your chest as you fall into step next to him.

“I thought you didn’t like sweet things.”

He opens the door and steps aside for you to walk through first.

“I never said it was for me.”

---

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