#pulled him and sylus in the same 10!!!!

[kundool]

wayward wonderland ☁️💍

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue (for the spin-off: click here!)

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your corner of the room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

-

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[liabugs]

how do you think the boys would be with an mc who's like deathly scared of sex, like she wants it but is so terribly frightened of it :( like she can cuddle and kiss them but she gets scared when things get sexual :(

I have so many asks in my inbox but this one caught my eye :3

This took kinda a dark turn in zayne's + Caleb's so tw for dubcon/noncon, not proof read

CW: fam!reader (she/her pronouns used) male masturbation, making out, pantie stealing (?) baby trapping, use if 'gege' (Caleb's) let me know if I missed any 🩷

Dividers by @/v6que and @/anitalenia!!

Xavier — ୨୧

Xavier would never force you into doing anything that you're not comfortable with. He wouldn't be pushy at all. When you're ready, he's ready. But that doesn't mean he doesn't get blue balls when you make out with him :(

Your lips moving perfectly against his, his tongue caressing yours... His hands on your hips.. But it's all gone when he starts to lose his resolve and grinds his hips against yours. You pull away, Xavier mentally cursing himself for getting ahead of himself and ruining the moment.

So when he leaves your place somewhere around 10:30 pm after finishing a movie, the moment he steps into his apartment he rushes to his room to relieve himself.

He thinks about how your cunt would feel wrapped around his length, so warm and tight. Pumping his cock in his fist, pre cum seeping from his slit. He can't help but cum moaning your name.

Rafayel — ୨୧

Rafayel can be needier than most, but he always puts your comfort before his. He loves you to the point where just having your presence around him is enough to satisfy him.

So the first time you get intimate with him is very cute! Playfulness and teasing all around. Rafayel takes a more wholesome approach to things, making sure to praise you the way you deserve.

Feather light kisses, giggling and other wholesome things to lighten up the mood. Because there's one thing Rafayel doesn't want you feeling when being intimate with him, that being scared.

Zayne — ୨୧

Zayne is totally fine with you not being comfortable being intimate with him. He's a busy guy, so chased kiesses and cute dates work fine. At least that's what you see on the outside.

On the inside, he is raging with sexual frustration. He does a good job of hiding it though, taking cold showers to get rid of his sexual tension. It gets to a point where cold showers aren't cutting it anymore.

And before he knows it, he's using the spare key to you apartment. He's going through your underwear drawer, he tries to rationalize his actions. But the way you cute black lace panties feel around his cock overpowers any sanity he has left.

And if you found out? Could you really blame him? You make it hard not to loose control of his usually composed demeanor.

Sylus — ୨୧

Sylus is nothing if not patent. The time will come when you will get over your fears, the time will come when you crave him in every way he craves you.

And when that time comes, you will share the same longing Sylus has felt for lifetimes. Sylus is nothing if not gentle. Slow, soft and sensual. His hands moving all over your body, his lips fitting perfectly with yours.

He loves the way you look at him, unsure, hesitant... He loves when your face contorts in pleasure, when you realize that there was nothing to be fearful of. He loves when you depend on him for pleasure, because he's the only one you can make you feel good.

He's the only one who can make you see stars when you give him your everything.

Caleb — ୨୧

Caleb knows your scared, it's okay, he only wants the best for you. And the best thing for you is to go dumb on his cock and take his seed. Let him knock you up, he knows it's scary. But when he fucks his baby into you, everything will be okay, you'll be safe.

He'll make sure of it, you trust him right? His pipsqueak trusts her gege to make the right choice for her? Ssh ssh it's okay I know baby, just take it... Just focus on how good it feels. As he pumps his hot load into you, tears streaming down your face.

He would kiss your tears away and tell you how good you were for him, he would apologize for hurting you... He was just doing what's in your best interest, you can forgive him right?

[emslittlelibrary]

⭑ sylus is your biggest fan. ⭑

⭑ your blind date with sylus is going well. it turns out even better when he admits to you that he’s a fan of your livestreams. ౨ৎ

💌 ⁀➴ content warnings: 18+! lowercase intended. non-evol au. blind date sylus. glasses + mullet sylus. nervous & awkward sylus. babbling sylus. video game streamer reader. pet names (kitten, sweetie, gorgeous). mutual masturbation. dirty talk. spitting. praise. oral sex (reader + sylus receiving).

💌 ⁀➴ wc: 4.8k (i got way too excited. i’m only human 🧍🏽‍♀️ you’ll see, y’all). song mention: fantasy. bazzi.

⭑ a note from 乇m! ⭑ so idk what came over me w this one but be prepared because once i started just couldn’t stop. the feral energy is on 10(thousand). also expect more submissive nervous glasses + mullet sylus in the near future. i can’t resist this man EVER.

💌 ⁀➴ thank you for reading! ౨ৎ

so far, sylus was your best blind date yet.

definitely your most attractive date—that, you knew for sure. and immediately. it took only that first glimpse of him, at his long, silken sweeps of angel silver hair, the dark, treasure red shade of his eyes, those gold-framed glasses, the grind of his jaw as he chewed at a wad of red gum, his broad chest, his taut, crossed arms, his towering height—every last one of his features proved more convincing and heart-rattling than the last.

the tension was immediate, too. the type that drizzled in your chest, oozing in careful, trickling rivulets that were too sticky to sponge away, from the moment you heard the resonance of his honeyed voice and caught the faint scent of cinnamon on his tounge as he pulled you in for the initial hug. you had to question whether you were still on the same planet as this man.

it was a simple picnic in the park. you shared soft sandwiches and fruit and chocolate and sweet teas, lounging together on a quilt, daisy-blossom blanket. he was a little shy, perhaps nervous. he did say this was the first blind date he’s ever agreed to. you found it endearing that this marble sculpture of a man had an awkward side, particularly around you.

if you talked for long enough, he would get distracted by one of your features, sometimes the petaled brush of your lashes or the white satin ribbon at the heart of your pink checkered sundress. hm? he would say, before clearing his throat and stuttering on his next breath when he asked you to repeat yourself. he had a pattern of looking down at the nearby flowerbed or savoring a bite of a strawberry whenever you giggled at something he said. he also had a much more dangerous pattern of tilting his brow, always in tandem with his quiet, dark-red smirk, within stints of patient silence, most often spent exchanging lingering, longing glances.

you refused to end the date casually. at the very least, you had to kiss this man. which is why, you invited him over to your place, making up some excuse about wanting him to try the sea salt caramel ice cream sandwiches you had stored away in your freezer, so he could try them for the first time—when, in all honesty, you wanted him to try you instead.

you really thought you were being strategic about it, too. sure, the two of you could’ve stayed in the kitchen like you were supposed to—but you wanted to change first, since your dress sinched pretty tight on your waist, and you preferred to wear something cozier while you were at home.

you invited him to your bedroom, under the guise that your bed was more comfortable than the living room couch, and maybe he could help you choose which tank top to wear while he waited. the cheetah-print one with baby pink straps and accents? or the cherry-print one with the word lover girl bedazzled in silver rhinestones across the chest? he picked the cherries, which didn’t surprise you.

you returned from the bathroom, in your cherry-scented baby tee, gray sweats, and an extra layer of candy pie lip gloss glittering your lips—but sylus was standing by the doorway, cracking his knuckles with this evasive look in his eyes. he looked more nervous than ever.

“everything okay?” you asked.

he didn’t answer. “i should tell you something."

you shrugged with a pleasant smile, warm and inviting. he snuck the words in behind an efforted sigh.

“i know you. from—” he hoarsed out another hard breath, “from your streams. i-i—i watch your streams."

your smile wouldn’t budge, and in fact could’ve flowered out of control had you not nipped it with your teeth. you glanced briefly at your desk in the far corner of the room, fitted with your warm body of a pc, neon starlight lighting, and a plush, strawberry pink gaming chair. it was completely cluttered—you forgot to organize everything after your last live—with powder puff headphones, your prismatic keyboard, cloudy daydream controllers from a recent sponsor, and trinkets of cats, desserts, bubbles, and stuffed video game plushies. there was no way of hiding it, but luckily, you never cared to.

“oh,” you said simply, "that’s fun. so you saw the setup and realized, or did it get too real all of a sudden?"

“no, you don’t understand, i—i really like your streams. i watch them, a-a lot. and i should’ve told you sooner but i just—you look unreal in person, and . . . but i couldn’t let things go too far without you knowing."

a feverish thrill warmed your heart for a moment—at the thought of this man, someone like sylus, watching your livestreams. laughing alongside you, eating dinner or washing the dishes or folding laundry with your voice echoing in the background, maybe even sending out a message in chat, hoping you would read it aloud and respond. was he subbed? has he gifted bits or used one of your emotes—this was going too far. if you let your thoughts spiral any longer, you may ask for his username.

“thanks for telling me, but i really couldn’t care less. i’m actually flattered. it’s really nice when someone enjoys what i do, you know?"

he blinked. then said, “you really don’t care?"

you shook your head softly. “i mean, as long as it’s not weird for you. it’s not like you’re a stalker since you were set up on this date with me. and you’re not one of those pervs who, i don’t know, jerks off to my voice or something. so it’s nothing."

his stare faltered, dark red eyes flickering to the side before returning to yours. his mouth shifted ever so slightly, on the brink of betraying whatever intrusive thought just came to mind.

“wait—woah, what was that look?"

“what?"

you could tell he was feigning innocence. “you know what i’m talking about. i saw that. what is it?"

“nothing,” he insisted meekly, “nothing, nothing."

“you don’t really jerk off to my voice, do you? now that i wanna know."

“no! no, seriously, i don’t do that, i just—"

he clamped his teeth down on his red gum again, squeezing out the flavor like a stress ball. you leaned back against the doorframe with crossed arms and a daring grin, nudging your tongue into your inner cheek. to this, he had to surrender.

“i’ve . . . i’ve thought about it—a-about you—"

you lurched forward. “about me?"

“never while you were streaming, but—but sometimes right after, o-or—"

your heart threatened to flip inside-out with a heavy, aching thump. there was no way. forget chuckling at your jokes or watching you instead of the tv or resubbing to your channel—your blind date, sylus, liked your livestreams so much that he got off on it afterwards.

“wait, really?"

he shook his head with a light scoff. “i know. it’s weird, and if you want me to leave, then—"

“no, i actually . . . i think it’s hot."

his stare tensed, sharpened by slanted brows and the slight narrow of his eyes. you reached for his wrist, then led him to the foot of your bed, gesturing for him to sit. he settled into the edge of your mattress with stiff, even shoulders, meanwhile you curled up in your desk chair, seated across from him. you hugged your legs to your chest with this slow, honey-sweet smile on your lips and a mischevious glint in your eye. sylus had your full attention now. and you, in return, had every last drop of his.

“so you really think about me, when you . . ."

he chuckled, cold and a bit dry. “how many times would you like me to say it? hm? why would i willingly admit this to you if it wasn’t true?"

you stretched your bottom lip a bit. “you haven’t said it exactly."

“so that’s it? you need to hear it? you need me to tell you outright that after i watch your streams, i have to stroke my dick in the shower until i cum for you? does that make it clearer?"

a thin glaze of lust syruped your daydream eyes. his cheeks flushed on cue, and the very tips of his ears burned blush red. he cleared his throat again, that nervous tic of his, and pinched his glasses further up his nose as he shifted in his jeans. your gaze followed the motion of his hand, targeting the tight, firm bulge prodding his dark pants. it looked thick and heavy. your mouth practically watered at the sight of it.

“you can’t look at me like that,” he breathed out, “fuck, i’ve never seen this—this primal look in your eyes, i . . . i-i think i should go."

“what if i wanna see? do you still think you should go?"

his lips parted silently, as his eyes lingered on the twirl of a strand of hair around your finger and the clench of your thighs closer together. he said nothing, for a short while.

you whispered, “you can say yes, sylus. you can leave."

“why would i do that?” he whispered back.

you propped your chin on your knee with a coquettish grin. “then can i see what you look like? please, sylus?"

“oh god,” he gritted out, as he palmed the crotch of his jeans.

“do you need help?"

he cleared the dryness in his throat, nearly coughing into his fist, and responded with a timid shake of his head. the pace of his breaths unsteadied as he worked at his belt. you swallowed hard when he tossed it aside on your marshmallow pink bedspread, heavy leather contrasting with your innocent, cloudlike comforter.

“the fuck is this?” he sighed to himself, hooking his zipper, “the fuck am i doing?"

“you can sit back. get comfortable,” you directed him.

he was so obedient to you that giving him instructions felt like waving a magic wand. this huge, divined-by-heaven masterpiece of a man was sitting back in your bed, prepared to reenact how he jerked off to the thought of you. you squeezed your thighs tighter, seeking friction to extinguish the fever between your legs.

then, a flutter fanned your pulsing heat when he finally pushed his pants down. a sticky wet spot stained the center of his boxers, directly above where his hard hill of a boner poked against the fabric. he rutted a thumb over it, and your hips nearly bucked at the same time.

with a heaving breath, he pulled at the waistband of his boxers until his cock breached in its full form, bowing forward with a delicious curve in the dim bedroom lightning. the length of him could easily upset your gag reflex, and his tip was so red and thick that you immediately envisioned how heavy it would feel on your tongue. dear god—your hearbeats started shredding through you. this had to be the most carnal response your body has had to the sight of a dick in years—maybe ever.

“wow,” you panted out. you couldn’t help yourself.

he chuckled, another one of those short, dry ones, murmuring quietly. “did you mean to say that? i—th-there’s just no way you saw my dick for the first time and said wow."

you drummed your bottom lip with your fingers, fidgeting—antsy. another tough swallow. then, “you’re—i-it’s pretty. and really hard."

his chest caved in with a harsh grunt when he gripped the head of it tighter, continuing to tease his rosy tip with sloppy swirls of his thumb. he clenched his eyes shut, which indented deep furrows between his heavy brows. his beauty was as soft and cursed as that of a fallen angel. you were fully convinced he may glow like a white, waning star when he came. you had to see it—needed to at this point.

a stuttered scoff tripped over his bottom lip. “’s always this hard. when it comes to you."

he held his breath when he committed to the first full stroke, then released a hasty sigh all at once as he slowed into a slow and steady rhythm. you were hypnotized by him already.

“need to spit on it?” you mumbled.

he nodded, at the same pace as his hand. he released to spit into his large palm, cupping around his mouth and letting it drip softly.

you spoke again as soon as he grasped the tip again. “can you do it again?"

he didn’t hesitate, allowing the spit to settle on his tongue for a second before spitting with a much louder, nastier splat for his hand. he stroked a bit faster that time, clenching tighter at the head, siphoning the room in slippery slicks and squelches. you shifted in your seat with the gracious part of your lips, tucking your foot under the gap in your bent leg.

“you liked that?” he gritted out.

“yeah—yeah, a lot,” you said through a dazed whisper.

a low growl slipped past his lips as his hand slowed for a sticky moment, only to quicken all over again.

“this is a fucking dream,” he murmured, “i can’t believe you want me to do this for you."

the motion of his thrusts distracted you for the following second. you were fixated on him—the stretch of his large, tense fingers, the weight of his crucifying length corded in thick veins, the dribble of pre-cum glistening from his tip like wet stardust. and still, for another lingering second, you couldn’t stop staring at his parted, spiced red lips, heart-shaped, pouty, and full. by the end of this, you would have to share the taste of hot cinnamon on his tongue.

“so this is what you do after my streams? when you think of me?” you asked.

“yeah,” he sighed, “i’m—but i’m nervous right now so usually i’m . . . louder."

you fought back your next intrusive thought by chewing at your bottom lip. you would have to get to that later. for now, you had to ask.

“what do you think about?"

he stifled his shallow groan with another chuckle. “take a guess."

“i want to know, c’mon. we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?"

you swiveled in your chair until you faced your desk, landing your gaze on your pink kitten-ear headphones. you fit them on immediately, then swiveled back.

“do i have these on?” you teased, in a toothache-sweet tone.

he sealed his eyes shut as soon as he caught a glimpse of you, sitting pretty and soft as a bow settling back into your padded pink chair. he expected you to look prettier in person, but not perfect.

“fuck,” he panted out right away, then again, higher-pitched and softer, “fuck. the fuck are you doing to me? you—you know what you’re doing."

“that's a yes?” you teased again.

“yes, yes, yes—god, what is it with you? really need me to say what you already know? of course i picture you in those cute little headphones. in that chair, too. wearing one of those sexy tank tops you’re wearing now. or your favorite hoodie—w-with your hair back and those—those kitten knee socks."

he dipped his head back further against the headboard as he fucked his fist faster, never missing a beat, rubbing in the glossy-coat gleaming the fat shape of his cock. you stared, shamelessly, at the chisel of abs peeking beneath his ridden-up t-shirt, the flex of his jaw as he gritted his teeth, the lustful shade of dark red in his eyes whenever his eyelids fluttered apart to look at you—he was pure architecture.

“you keep—" he braved another groan, paired with a deep shudder of his hips, “you keep biting your lip like that. i-it’s driving me fucking crazy. my cock twitches every time you do that on stream. when you’re focusing on a level or reading messages to yourself. it’s so cute. so fucking sexy."

“thank you,” you whispered, “you like seeing it live and in person? you like knowing that i’m biting my lip for you?"

his next moan was the softest and whiniest yet—it was so sinful and pathetic that you nearly let out your own satisfied sigh.

“picture you doing that while i fuck you in that chair. l-looking back at me and biting your lip just like that. i would cum on the spot."

his confession winded you. you didn’t realize how breathless it left you until you spoke again.

“might have to touch myself too if you keep talking like that."

the momentum of his strokes hiccuped at the base, then stalled on his way up to the tip again. he glanced down at your sweats with a dangerous flicker of his eyes.

“do you want to?” he asked, dark and slow.

you hesitated, though you needed little time to fully consider it. your heart knew first and foremost, and thumped faster, desperately, the longer you thought about it.

you gestured to your pants. “is it okay if i take these off?”

"you’re serious?” he snickered.

you responded by sliding your waistband over your hips, revealing your baby doll yellow lace panties. his breath hitched, at the same time that you released an airy, meek sigh when your sweats crumpled to the floor. then, he had to stop touching himself entirely when you parted your legs for him, revealing the wet patch soaking through your delicate little underwear.

he winced through his teeth with his eyes screwed shut, bunching your covers in his fist to distract the urge of his hand to finish him off.

“you’re f-fucking with me. watching me couldn’t have made you that wet."

you couldn’t resist touching yourself as soon as the draft in the room brushed over your sensitive heat. you would usually taunt yourself a bit first instead of giving in right away, but you felt taunted this whole time, by restraining the urge to slip your hand down your pants, to spit on his cock for him, to kiss him with reckless abandon after and jerk his cock with him. you convulsed in your seat with a wrecked whine, circling your clit harder as visions of these thoughts blurred through your mind one after the other.

sylus’s eyes widened, fixated on the sloppy, slick noises sputtering from your core, from the mesh of your fingers smearing liquid glitter all over your hot clit. he grappled with his cock again, like it was a reflex, starting with long, deep strokes before resorting to rushed pumps of his swollen tip. you spread your legs wider, plucked the petals of your own rosebud faster, writhed and shivered with another gentle moan.

“look at you. listen to you,” he said through a rugged breath, “you want me to cum right now, don’t you? pushing me to the edge with those fucking sounds."

“have—" you hiccuped on another gasp, “have you thought about this, too?"

“yeah, yeah,” he choked out, “just like this. in that—right in your chair. i’m—you really have no idea how hard i’m trying not to cum right now, kitten. i . . . can i call you that?"

you nodded, frantically. “yes. fuck, that’s hot."

as if he couldn’t help himself, he rutted into his hand faster. the sounds of his dick pumping in and out of his fist were truly filthy—and you were lapping it up with wild, feverish swipes of your fingers, cutting corners and pressing hard and deep against the aching pulse beneath your underwear.

you watched closely as he tugged his length quicker by the second, knobbing his thumb over his leaking cockhead with a cruel, punishing grip. he was art to you.

another moan fluttered from your lips swollen with teeth marks.

“moan for me like that again. please, please—“ he gritted out, “you’re just—you’re unreal. you’re gorgeous. you’re a dream. you’re my dream girl and you’re letting me stroke my cock in your bed while i watch you touch yourself, fuck . . . "

you bucked your hips into your own hand. god, you wanted every part of this man. seeing and hearing him wasn’t enough anymore. you needed to touch him—to taste him. the thought of catching his load by the end of this overcame you, and suddenly, you had to squish your fingers into your tight, flexing hole and press and swish at the gooey bundle of fruit throbbing inside of you.

“yeah, fuck yourself with your fingers,” he coaxed you, with a shuddering groan that traced a shiver down your spine, “finger yourself just like that while i fuck up into my hand. can’t wait to cum for you, kitten."

“i really want you to cum for me,” you mewled back, “i want to cum for you too, sylus."

he submitted to a breathless whimper. “the way you moan my name. kitten, i’m too close. i need you to cum first, can—can i put my mouth on it?"

“please?” you sighed.

he refused to hesitate. he slid off the bed instantly, rushing toward you. you knew better than to move from the chair, and propped your feet on the arm rests when he kneeled in front of you. you let out a sharp breath when he hooked your panties to the side, arching back into the chair as his breath breezed over your naked clit.

“please, sylus—” you whined.

“it’s okay, sweetie. you don’t have to do it yourself anymore. let me do it for you."

he tensed his mouth to water his tongue with spit, then hocked it directly onto your hole with a heartless splatter. you were already so close to cumming from that alone, but especially when he took off his glasses and tossed them onto your desk before savoring the first taste of you, honing in dead-center on your glistening core.

you jolted when his nose nudged your clit, clawing your nails through his soft, angel-feather hair to pull him in deeper. his bristled groan reverberated through you as he slurped and suckled you like holy water, or cherry-flavored love potions, or the elixir of life dripped from your suctioning center. dear god—you knew he was heaven. and you already knew this was the fastest you would cum for anyone.

“this isn’t real,” he sighed against you, in between wags of his tongue over your clit and deep, longing sweeps of his tongue burrowing into your core, “this pussy isn’t real. the taste—the smell . . . so good. so needy."

“mm-hmm,” you drew out, crossing your eyes with the neediest little pout, “sylus—s-sylus, you’re . . . you’re so good to me."

the unmistakable squelch of his hand squeezing his cock all over again rippled through you. as soon as you heard it, you were right there.

“oh—that’s gonna make me cum. god, i’m gonna cum. ’m gonna cum for you."

he rotated his head in slow, fluid circles to ensure that his tongue could lather the entirety of your wet, cunning heat, darting over your clit and seeping into your gleaming hole in cruel, ruthless circles like a hurricane. you couldn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good.

not to mention the way he babbled to you to the very end, especially since, up until this point, you knew sylus as your reserved, slightly awkward blind date who never had too much to say. you were a goner.

“yeah, shake on my tongue. shake and squirm and writhe on my tongue. let me taste it. let me have it. need it just as much as you, sweetie."

your lips parted into a soft o as your eyes crossed again, blinded by stars when your orgasm ruptured you to the core. you were a lovely little mess—of whiny moans and lightheaded breaths and the molten, wet heat glistening from your inner thighs as you clenched for sylus’s mouth.

you didn’t even know he was watching you until he starved out, “fuck, roll your eyes back like that. cum just like that for me, kitten."

none of your internal organs would sit still, fevered and running rampant as you unleashed everything hot and sweet and satisifed within you that melted and stickied his cinnamon lips. when he pulled back for a breath, a sheen of wet hot glitter soaked his mouth. he was a very ravenous, untidy eater, that’s for sure. he also, you just noticed, hadn’t stopped pumping his dick underneath your chair.

“can i cum for you now?” he groaned like a plea. “please? you’re everywhere, sweetie."

“here,” you insisted, tucking your legs to kneel in your seat, “here, in my mouth."

when he stood, he had to steady his hands over the top of your chair so he wouldn’t crumple back down to his knees.

“i still can’t believe this,” he panted, “you’re gonna put my dick in your mouth. i won’t be able to last, kitten. i’ve—i’ve thought about it too much."

“i’ll go slow,” you said, propping your hands on his hips, “is that what you want?"

“i just want you. any way you’ll have me, i promise."

a flutter brushstroked your clit. shit—you could cum for him all over again if he’d let you. but you had been far too patient all evening, denying yourself the pleasure of his cock weighing hard and heavy on your coated tongue.

you didn’t bother with teasing licks or pecks or strokes of your hand that mimiced his grappling thrusts. you took him in as far as you could, nearly choking around him if you didn’t slow down when he stretched the shape of your mouth just right. he was even thicker than you imagined, sliding salty-sweet down the length of your tongue, consuming the majority of its width, easily tipping into the back of your warm, clutching throat. both of you whined in unison. it should’ve been impossible for every part of him to feel this good.

he pushed out a winding breath, that swerved into a rutted groan when you started shucking your suctioned lips up and down, up and down his full shaft. your heart-shaped ass clapped down on your heels as you rocked forward and back, richocheting your tits held tight by your tiny cherry tank top, batting your mascara-wet lashes as you looked up at him.

“uhn—uhn,” he whimpered out, “mmph—look at those eyes. those—mmph—those fucking headphones, and—uhn, that mouth, you’re trying to kill me. what is this? you want me dead, gorgeous."

you took him in faster, purposely flexing your throat to pinch at his tip whenever he reached the back of your throat. he bowed over you as you twisted one fist, then two, on the same path and rhythm as your mouth, sacrificing your need to breathe just to suck his cock like you were seeking revenge of some sort.

“fuck—uhn, can’t take this. i know it’s only been a second, but-but i have to cum. i’m cumming, shit—"

with one last rasped whine, and the tilt of his head all the way back, he erupted in thick, gluey spurts on your tongue. you swallowed him down hungrily, greedily, chugging his load without stopping the fluid motion of your slippery mouth up and down.

he quivered out his last few moans as you sucked him dry. “taking it all—you’re taking it all—uhn—fuck, yeah. yeah, sweetie. cu—hmph—cumming down your throat while you sit in your desk chair. this is a fucking dream."

you sat back when he set his hand on your shoulder, signaling that he was too sensitive. playfully, you flashed your tongue at him, hoping to win him with a chuckle or, more particularly, a good kitten.

but you earned more than you anticipated when he bowed over you, cupped your chin, and drew you in for a longing, passionate kiss that activated all of your nerves at once. his mouth was insatiable, lips soft but firm as they pinched your top lip, then bottom lip, before parting to kiss you deeply, sledding his tongue over yours to elicit one of your sweetest breaths.

he pulled back, recovering with a breath. “sorry,” he said, “couldn’t stop thinking about it."

you returned a flustered grin. “me too."

the corners of his mouth ticked up into a smirk, and you knew one of his signature brow tilts would follow soon after. he huffed out another breath as he gazed down at you.

then, he spoke again. “when can i see you again? i’m still having a hard time believing what just happened."

you swayed in your chair, pivoting back once you found his glasses on the desk. you rose upright until you were tall enough to slip them over his eyes for him. when you smiled at him, his grin settled in, curving sharper at the edges. you would have to use whatever magic you had over him to do that much more often.

“you’ll see me on stream tomorrow, remember?"

ꪆৎ⭑ 乇m’s masterlist! in case you’re interested in my other works!

— © 2025. 乇m! all rights reserved. ꪆৎ

[redcali]

can you write how each of the lads men would react when you tell them you want children? (or it could be any of them) (your fics are nice btw)

Reply: Yes that is so cute!! ────────────────────

✦ You tell the LADS men that you want children ✦

PAIRINGS: Xavier x reader, Caleb x reader, Sylus x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader TAGS: slight suggestive content, mostly wholesome cute fluff, short blurbs

���───────────────────

“Xavier, I want to have kids.” You announce.

You two are currently in Jeremiah’s greenhouse, helping him tend to his flowers. Xavier’s hands still on a potted plant as he looks to you, his eyes wide.

 “Right here?”

“W-what?” Your face turns red. “No! Of course not! I meant, when we get back h–”

But Xavier is already pushing you up against the cool glass of the greenhouse, his chest against your back and fingers dipping below your waistband.

“Too late,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your sensitive neck. “ You’re absolutely right – I want children too. Right now.”

You two are at Sylus’s favourite restaurant when you casually bring up that you want children.

Sylus’s hand stills, as he looks up at you from his steak with an indiscernible expression. You peer at him nervously, trying to gauge his reaction. Does he want children too? Is he okay with the idea of raising them?

“Anyways – that was just a thought – let’s talk about something else.” you quickly say.

The next day ── .✦

“Sylus!” You call out as you push open the door to Sylus’s apartment. You kick something by accident – a gold pacifier? You look down at it, beyond perplexed.

As you step into his apartment, you’re met with the sight of piles upon piles of various baby clothes and toys, stacked neatly across the living room and dining hall. You’re speechless. 

Sylus walks out into the living room in nothing but his red silk pajamas. He mimics your aloof expression when he sees you.

“What? You said you wanted children.”

“Sylus – it was just an idea!”

You notice something : ever since you’ve casually mentioned wanting children (you don’t think Caleb would even notice), Caleb has been seeming really fatigued, sometimes even dozing off in the middle of the day just to wake up with a start.

You don’t question why and just go about your day as usual.

Until one night, you wake up from a bad dream. You sit up groggily, yawning and rubbing your eyes tiredly, just to find Caleb missing from bed.

Instead, a dim glow radiates from the study desk. Caleb sits at it, carefully jotting down notes on a notepad that you’ve never seen before. You sneak over, and tackle him by surprise. Caleb lets out a yelp of surprise as you jump onto his lap.

“Pips! What are you doing, being awake right now?” he asks hoarsely. You huff. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” You turn to look at his notes – and that's when you realise that they’re all about pregnancy and taking care of newborns. You giggle as you flick through his notes, and Caleb just looks at you with resignation.

“This is what you’ve been losing sleep over? You’re adorable.” you tell him, twisting over in his lap to squeeze him affectionately by his cheek. “10 health recipes for pregnancy? How to take care of newborns… side effects of pregnancy and how to manage them…damn, you’re thorough.”

“I need to come prepared, okay?” Caleb nips at your fingers. “I’ll make sure to take care of you when you’re bearing our child. I’ll make sure you have everything and anything you need. All for my wife.”

When you tell him that you want children, Zayne pauses for a second, looking at you carefully.

“Are you sure?” He looks at you with a gentle expression, reaching a hand out to hold yours. “I need you to be completely certain. This is a huge decision, after all.”

“Positive,” you reply eagerly. “Zayne, I’ve been thinking this over for months.”

“Okay. Give me a second.” Zayne pulls out his phone and clicks onto a contact, holding it to his ear.

“Greyson?” He pauses. “I’ll be taking a one week leave.”

Your jaw drops. Zayne? Taking a whole week off his job? That is unheard of. Zayne continues to dish out a couple of instructions to his assistant over call before he quickly hangs up. With his full attention back to you now, he leans forward and kisses you softly on the cheek.

“Zayne,” you say slowly. “What…why…”

“You want children, right?” A playful smile tugs at his lips. “We’ll have to work on that all week. That way, it can be guaranteed that you get what you want.”

Your face heats up at the implications of his words. Zayne leans forward once more, this time pressing his warm lips to yours.

“Let’s start now.”

“...so that’s why I want children.”

Rafayel gets flashbacks to those birth-giving videos he has the misfortune to chance upon.

“But, darling,” Rafayel says, sounding pained. “Giving birth looks excruciating. What a miserable process. I don’t want you to see you in pain, ever.”

You laugh at his words, squeezing his cheek. “Rafayel, it’s going to be OK.”

“Are you sure?” he frets. “I wish there was a way you don’t have to go through the suffering, ever. I wish I could be the one giving birth.”

When he kisses you, he is extra gentle in the way he holds and touches you. His hands snake down to your thighs as he pulls back to look at you with wide, adoring eyes.

──────────────────── .✦

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 4)

The man you stumbled into is bleeding out. And he's distractingly pretty.

nav: one, two, three, four (current), five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, mentions of blood, fluff, you panic bc of his lethal face card, valid reaction tbh, 10/10 would do the same

Interacting directly with a beautiful man reduces you to an idiot, you realize.

You’ve met attractive men before—had crushes on such men. They weren’t necessarily easy on the eyes, but there was always something they said, did, or had that made you feel some type of way about them. The seventh-grade classmate who shushed your chattering peers during your presentation. The corner store clerk with pretty hands. The college senior who made you feel welcome at your acquaintance party. The tall guy who unknowingly saved you from getting squished by the sardine-packed commuters on the train.

Sure, your next interactions with them made you hyper-aware of their presence for a time—hanging on to their every word and unknowingly seeking them out in the room. But you think you remained fairly casual and blasé with them, as you do with most things.

Unlike right now.

As your mind begins to clear, you register that you’re stripped down to just your base layer. In the middle of winter. Your puffer jacket lies damp on the ground, and your sweater—now sporting huge splotches of blood—is folded haphazardly against the man’s abdomen. (You try not to let the sight of the dark liquid summon the remains of your dinner.)

Your gaze flickers between his ruined shirt and your clasped hands, cupped by his much larger, warmer ones. When you look up, you’re taken aback to find his intense garnet eyes already locked on you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the deep, velvety timbre of his voice compelling you to straighten up unconsciously.

“Yes,” you splutter, air barely making it past your throat. Then, your eyes widen. “Are you alright?” you stress, gesturing wildly to the concerning state of his abdominal area.

He chuckles. “Never been better.”

You gape at him. “But you’re bleeding!”

He glances down at his bloodied clothes. “It appears so.”

You like to think you have a good head on your shoulders. You always stay on the correct side of the sidewalk. You tidy up your table as much as you can at food joints. You try to abide by city recycling guidelines to make life easier for sanitation workers. And you’re decently vigilant, thanks to the countless true crime documentaries you’ve crammed into your brain.

But alas, it seems a beautiful man is all it takes for common sense to call it a day.

“Okay, so I actually won some groceries earlier, and I think I have some first-aid supplies in there,” you babble, missing the knowing glint in his eyes. “My house is just a little further down the street. If you want, I can treat your wound there?”

He’s still holding your hands. You realize your palms must be clammy from cold sweat—and his blood. You politely pull your hands back with a laugh you hope sounds natural. (It doesn’t.)

“Oh wait, you probably need a hospital,” you blurt, mentally berating yourself for not considering this first. You start fishing for your phone in your jeans pocket. “I can call the emergency hotline for Akso Hospital. I work there. Um, I can even ride with you in the ambulance if you’d like?”

The man laughs, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“I appreciate the help, sweetie, but you shouldn’t be so quick to give out personal information to people you just met.”

Heat creeps up your neck. He’s right. You’re basically handing him a free pass to rob your place. What if he’s a serial killer?

As you feel yourself spiraling further, he begins to stand, grabbing your dropped jacket as he rises. You instinctively lean back, mouth agape at his towering height and the fact that he just stood up—quite gracefully—despite clutching his wound mere moments ago.

“I’ll have your sweater washed and dry-cleaned,” he says, folding the soiled fabrics neatly into compact squares. “Know that your assistance back there is much appreciated.”

“Oh—! It was nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

A single snowflake lands on your face and you blink, nose twitching at the gentle melting sensation. Looking up, you notice the sky is now a beautiful backdrop of powdery snow, falling softly around you.

“It’s getting late,” he observes, also gazing up at the scenery. “Let me walk you home.”

Before you can protest, he drapes his coat over your shoulders. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the scent of fresh linen and something distinctly masculine that has you instinctively relaxing into the warm confines of the comically oversized garment.

“But aren’t you cold?” you ask, unknowingly tucking yourself further into his coat.

“No,” he responds with a hint of laughter, pressing a hand to your back to gently guide you toward the park entrance.

The short walk to your house is surprisingly comfortable. Aside from occasionally fumbling over your words and avoiding his gaze (his face is distractingly handsome, and his impressive height and physique make you strangely self-conscious), you manage a decent conversation.

You learn he was taking a casual stroll when he had a “squabble” with some old business partners. You can only stare at the back of his head at this revelation. What kind of squabble leads to a wound like that? And how is he acting so fine now? If it weren’t for the bloodstain on his expensive-looking high-neck top, you’d think you hallucinated the whole thing.

You also learn he’s visiting the city on a business trip. After hearing this, the rest of the walk is filled with you recommending your favorite places: the food spots you’re yet to use your lifetime vouchers for, the cat café with the snooty caracal you love petting, and the old arcade where you’ve won most of your plushie collection. (You make sure to share with him a few secret tricks for mastering the darn two-pronged claw machine.)

Belatedly, it dawns on you that such activities might hold little interest for a man like him. Flustered, you open your mouth to undo the torrent of nonsense you’ve been spouting, when he suddenly stops and turns to face you.

“Your recommendations are duly noted,” he says, eyes glowing with amusement. “I’ll be sure to try them sometime.”

You’ve arrived at your house. You're surprised by the unexpected pang of disappointment you feel.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

He hands over your now-drier puffer jacket. “It was my pleasure. Now go inside before you turn into an icicle.”

“Oh—your coat,” you exclaim, beginning to shrug it off. But he stops you with a raised hand.

“Keep it,” he tells you. “I’ll get it back when I return your sweater.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Then, as if recalling a secret you’re not privy to, he smiles softly. “I trust it’ll be in safe hands. You seem exceptional at caring for things.”

Before you can unpack his words, he turns and starts walking toward the main road.

“Wait! What’s your name?” You can't believe you haven't asked till now.

He pauses before glancing over his shoulder.

“Sylus,” he finally says.

“Sylus,” you repeat, liking the way it rolls off your tongue. “It’s a pretty name.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, eyes widening in horror. Why not tell him he’s hot while you’re at it, doofus?

As you fumble for an apology and prepare to sentence yourself to a blabbermouth timeout, he chuckles.

“Indeed it is.”

You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a trace of melancholy in his voice that stays with you.

With a wave, he walks into the snowy dark, his figure gradually fading.

And that’s when it hits you.

How did he know which house was yours?

note: seeing the love this series has gotten has been surprising! the comments, reblog captions, and tags you leave are honestly hilarious and i had a blast reading through them 💞

nav: one, two, three, four (current), five, six or: read on ao3

tag list: @thepotatoislost, @xxfaithlynxx, @browneyedgirl22, @vorfreudevortex

check out my other works!

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS Men Reaction to You as a Parent

AN: I miss my mom 😭 I love her so much. She's sooooo precious.

Pairing: LaDS boys x fem reader

Genre: Hurt and comfort

Ingredients: 90% comfort, 10% angst

My Fav: Caleb and Xavier

Xavier:

He knows the look. The way your hands fuss with the curtains long after sunset, how you peer out the window like the past might knock and ask to be let in. You’re restless.

He doesn’t say anything, he never does. Just watches you pace. Waiting for the triplets. Kassandra, Reagan, and Pam. Twenty-somethings now, but still your babies. You count the days until they return like a soldier marking calendar walls.

And tonight, like clockwork, you turn to him with that same eager light in your eyes. “Shall we sit outside in the yard? Get the firepit going? I got their favorite sweet potatoes.” You tug on his hand like you’re twenty again. “Let’s go, honey. Please?”

He’s already moving. The shawl is in his hands before you finish the sentence. He drapes it over your shoulders, presses a kiss to your temple, and follows you out without another word.

You sit in the yard together, hand in hand, listening for laughter that hasn’t arrived yet. But it will. It always does.

He doesn't need to say it aloud, but in his silence, you’ll always hear it: Watching you love them like this… it makes him love you more.

Rafayel:

You always wanted a quiet life. He remembers how you laughed the first time he said he’d give it to you. “Quiet’s not in your blood,” you teased.

But when Alaric was born, your son with his lungs and your fragile heart, you changed. Or maybe you returned to something truer.

You gave up the Hunter’s Association. The title. The power. You traded it all for hospital chairs, medical journals, and the quiet war of waiting rooms. And he watched you, time and time again, fold yourself into the margins of your son's life just to keep him breathing.

Not once did you ask why this happened. You only asked how to help.

Now Alaric sits in your old chair at the Association. Heart full, future wide. And Rafayel sees it every time you look at him, that flicker of disbelief. Like you still can’t believe you won.

And maybe that's what he admires most about you: you never stopped being a fighter, you just learned how to fight for something smaller, and infinitely more precious.

Zayne:

He sees it before you even speak.

The way your hand hovers above the table, over that one plate you always used to set first. The way your fingers curl in, then pull away, like grief lives in your bones now, like it whispers, not yet, not this time.

Aching to reach for the daughter who slammed close the door to her room. Leaving the dinner untouched.

You never ate without her. Not once. Not since the day she was born. Feeding her was your love language. Her plate was always first, always warm, always right. And now you sit across from him with a smile stretched too tight and a silence that doesn’t quite settle.

“I forgot dessert,” you say, too fast. “We should have something sweet. For your promotion.”

He doesn’t move right away. Just watches you walk to the kitchen, not like you’re hungry, but like you’re searching. Like if you just bake the right thing, if you get it just right, maybe the world will tilt back into place.

Zayne stands and follows, reaching for your hand before you disappear again. His thumb traces the ridge of your knuckles, soft and trembling.

“She’s not mad at you,” he murmurs, eyes steady on yours. “You did nothing wrong. She loves you.”

You blink, and your tears fall quiet, like they always do. Witnessing a drifting relationship once so cherished.

And he thinks, if loving someone is a sacred act, then parenting is its own kind of worship. And grief… grief is the altar where that worship never ends.

Sylus:

You left.

You loved him, but your love for your children outweighed it. And when he wouldn't stop, wouldn't turn his back on the life that had no room for them, you made the only choice you could.

You walked away. From him. From the danger. From the man who clung too tightly to a throne of blood, head of Onichynus, feared in every shadowed corner, yet too much a coward to surrender his power for peace.

You left behind divorce papers, and all the love you once carried.

Because you knew: it would only take one more threat. One wrong name whispered. One misplaced vendetta. And your children would pay the price.

He hated you for it. Said you turned them against him. Blamed the caution in their eyes, the distance in their hugs, on you.

But the truth is, he forgot. Forgot why he found you in the first place. Forgot the lifetimes that led him to your door. Forgot that everything good in him only ever came alive when you looked at him like he could be more.

Now it breaks him, not just that you left, but that you were right to. That you were strong enough to put your children first.

And that he was the reason you had to do it alone.

Caleb: (trans fem child)

He stood in the hallway, unseen. The morning light poured in through the half-open door, catching on your hands as you worked, parting strands of hair with steady, practiced care.

Fifteen years. He’s known her every day of them. His kid. Your kid. Raised together. Held through scraped knees and whispered nightmares. But today, today was different.

Today, you saw her.

Not the version the world forced on her. Not the shape they assigned. You saw her. And you didn’t hesitate. Didn’t freeze. Didn’t look to him for direction. You just met her where she was, as if you’d been waiting to do it since the day she arrived.

"Do you feel bonita?" you asked, voice soft and warm, teasing just enough to draw out that flicker of a smile. He watches her shoulders drop, just slightly. A breath let go. A bit of armor lowered.

She nods. Doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to. In that moment, she is safe. She is known.

And Caleb, Caleb feels something sharp crack and re-form inside his chest. Something quiet. Old. Holy.

Because you didn’t treat this like some revelation. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t mourn what was never yours to grieve. You just braided her hair like it was the most obvious, natural thing in the world.

And gods, that’s what wrecks him. He’s spent his whole life trying to shield her from a world that doesn’t know how to see people like her.

But you? You didn’t just see her.

You recognized her.

And standing there in the hallway, fists clenched and heart full, Caleb thinks: There is no war he wouldn’t fight for this. For her. For you. For the quiet kind of love that makes people whole again.

[cherryredstarz]

LaDs Boys reacting to you asking them to take care of your Tamagotchi

Rafayel 🐠

Raf wouldn’t know what do do at first; just button mashing until he saw what each button did.

You were only going to be away on a mission for three days, and Rafayel had ONE job. ONE.

Don’t kill your duck. Whatever he did, don’t kill it.

He killed it on accident within the first 10 minutes.

He turned it into a bigback.

A BIGBACK.

The biggest back of them all.

Through all of his button mashing, he kept hitting the food button, and the poor ducky kept eating, and eating, and eating because it wasn’t programmed to do otherwise—to disobey its’ overlord’s command.

And the poor ducky died. Too much food—a killer tummy ache, and Rafayel was horrified. The Lemurian immediately googled a tutorial on how to get you a new pet, and after that, a second tutorial on how to keep it ALIVE.

He got you a fish and named it Sue. You were horrified and terribly distraught when you returned to find Sue and not your beloved duck. Rafayel apologized, and begrudgingly, you forgave him.

Nothing would prepare you, however, for how hard you would laugh when you discovered Rafayel had accidentally make Sue a bigback too.

Caleb and Zayne 🍎❄️

It’s a team effort.

You best bet these two would be working together—the two boys had witnessed enough of your meltdowns as children when any of your Tamagotchi pets died. They’d been firsthand victims to a multitude of tantrums.

Caleb was obsessively researching how Tamagotchi’s were programmed; Zayne was meticulously and methodically setting timers to feed the duck at precise times to keep its happiness levels at maximum capacity.

Your duck became the most pampered online ducky in the world, at least, for a few days.

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Initially, the man is…curious, to say the least. A Tamagotchi? Wouldn’t you prefer a living, breathing, fluffy critter to take care of rather than a pixelated image of a cat or dog?

Nonetheless, he will certainly do his due diligence and take care of this digital pet, all for his beloved. Sylus asks Luke and Kieran for advice, and the twins practically gasp when Sylus admits to not knowing what a Tamagotchi is. After 20 minutes of being bullied by his henchmen, the twins excitedly explain how to work your tiny egg shaped device—what the buttons do and how to input various functions.

Sylus determinedly takes care of your digital pet, a cat named Tulip, even voluntarily screwing up his already whack sleep schedule to ensure your beloved pet’s survival. He even brings the dangly keychain with him to business meetings, feeding the needy beast while discussing protocore deals.

By the time you’ve returned from your mission, you arrive at Sylus’s manor to find a fluffy Maine Coon kitten with a pink collar waiting for you—Tulip on the collars name tag.

Safe to say, you were delight to have not one, but two Tulips in your life.

Xavier 👽

Xavier didn’t even know what a Tamagotchi pet was until you begged him to keep it alive while away on a mission with Tara.

He tried—chugging energy drinks every few hours to stay awake, just watching.

Staring.

Waiting.

He didn’t even know when it happened—but he registered his eyes were opening. He glanced to the tiny digital clock above his apartment’s stove—it was 4:30 AM.

Oh no.

He checks the little pink eggs screen, and his eyes widen at the dead pet.

Shit.

Xavier will search a tutorial on how to generate a new pet; he’ll go as far as recreating the exact same pet, down to the stupid way you spelled that poor creature’s name.

He smiled at his genius. You’d never know.

He’d crack though, as soon as you arrived home, confessing to his crime. You’d frown at first, but Xavier would pull out the puppy dog eyes, and you’d forgive him. After all, it was sweet the way he tried so hard to fix his mistake. And besides, Tamagotchi pets are hard enough to keep alive to begin with.

[jinusajas]

01/10/25; 06:36pm

sylus x fem.reader

notes: writing this as a reminder on how much i still love sylus, while at the same time in celebration of @voidsylus’s return (⺣◡⺣)♡

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @milkandstarlight

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

thinking about how sylus absolutely spoils you on your day off…

mornings would start off with breakfast in bed, with sylus making all of your favorites. from waffles topped with whipped cream and strawberries to fluffy omelettes and a good portion of bacon. he would hand feed you this scrumptious meal while licking away any lingering crumbs settled on the corner of your lips with a smirk on his face.

“sy, don’t you think you’re going a little too far? after all, i’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

you bask in his deep chuckles, allowing him to press a kiss against your forehead before telling you, “i know that, but there’s no way i’ll allow my love to lift a finger, not when i’m here to serve you.”

basking in the sounds of your laughter, sylus continues to feed you breakfast, making sure you ate every last morsel before setting the empty tray off to the side. your curious gaze lands on him, wondering what he was planning when you felt his arms wrap around your waist before picking you up bridal style. given no choice but to cling to him, you lovingly nuzzle the tip of your nose against his defined cheekbones. “what? you’re not letting me walk either?”

“you won’t ever have to take a single step as long as i’m here, little dove.”

with your giggles echoing throughout the room, you watch as sylus brings you into your shared bathroom, shutting the door while turning the lock. curiosity paints your expression, but you remain silent even as sylus places you back on the marble floors. a reverent caress was felt on your skin the moment the back of his hand does a gentle sweep across your cheek, admiring the soft look in your eyes for a brief moment before allowing his hands to descend upon you.

deft fingers slowly peel away at your clothes, making goosebumps erupt all across your skin as the fabric of your shirt falls to the ground. you were left in your panties, feeling your nipples harden in response as sylus gently cups at them within the palm of his hand.

“beautiful.” was all he manages to say, lightly pinching at the hardened bud as you felt your breathing hitch in response. a devilish smirk was seen on his face when he releases you from his grip, kneeling down to help you step out of your panties as he pulls the flimsy fabric off of you. with your mouth going dry, you use sylus’s broad shoulder for support, allowing your panties to pool against your ankles while hearing the way your lover lets out a low hiss at the sight. he tosses the panties aside before standing back to his full height, taking off his dark shirt and boxers at the same time.

your mouth waters at the sight of his erection settled between his legs, shivering when sylus lets out another rich chuckle before framing your face with one hand. “my eyes are up here, darling.”

forced to meet his gaze, you purposely lick at your lips, watching as the hunger flashes within his gaze. “what a naughty little dove you are.”

gripping at the back of your thighs, he picks up your bare form and holds you against him, your breathing turning labored when you felt the tip of his cock brush against your inner thighs. stepping into the shower, he closes the frosty, glass door, turning on the shower faucet while standing beneath the spray. he shields you from the momentary coldness of the waters with his broad back, smirking down at you while pressing your naked body against the wall.

his husky voice whispers your name, catching your attention as he uses the pad of his thumb to trace at your bottom lip. “do you know why i fed you so well?”

a playful grin spreads across your features, “hm, i have a few guesses… but why don’t you tell me?”

shaking his head, you felt the moisture pool between your legs at the sight of water dripping down his gorgeous body, making his muscles glisten from beneath the intimate lighting, “instead of telling you with words, why don’t i show you?”

you sharply inhale when sylus kneels down in front of you, slotting himself between your legs. spreading your thighs even further for him, you felt the heat blossoming within your veins at being left so open for him. “look at you, so pretty and wet for me.”

“it could be because of the shower- ah!” you arch your back against the shower wall when he pushes a thick finger inside of your heat, pumping it in and out of you before setting a steady pace. “hn, i don’t think it’s because of the shower, sweetie. i think this is all you.” further wishing to embarrass you, sylus leans even closer to your aching cunt, greedily breathing in your scent while letting out a shudder, “that scent is unmistakably you, little dove.”

with his fingers still drawing out your honeyed sweetness, your hands automatically delve into his strands of hair when he presses his lips against your slick folds, tongue tracing at your outer lips before diving into you. his ministrations against your body succeeds in making you cry out to him, your moans echoing throughout the bathroom as you cling to him for dear life.

the constant pumping motions his fingers set coupled along with the sounds of his mouth eagerly drinking up everything you had to offer was becoming too much for you as your back arches against the wall, releasing yourself into his awaiting mouth. his groans were felt vibrating against you as your thighs locked him in place, too drunk off of the pleasure to even think clearly.

“mmph, you taste so fucking good, sweetie. i can’t get enough of you.” feeling him lick one last strip up your sensitive core, sylus stands back to his full height. you nearly fell to the ground had it not been for sylus’s arm wrapped around your waist. “jump, little dove.”

giving him a weak nod, you manage to jump back into his arms, with sylus pinning you against the wall with his hands gripping at the back of your thighs. you shiver, hands automatically wrapping themselves around his neck as the tip of his cock traces at your slick folds.

“are you ready for me, love?”

giving him a series of eager nods, you cling to him, letting out a loud moan the moment sylus pushes himself into you. once you felt every inch of him sheathed inside of you did he begin to set a rapid pace. your breasts bounce in tune to his passionate movements. pressing his face against the base of your throat, you feel the way his tongue laps away at the droplets of water from your skin, the sensual touch increasing your pleasure by a tenfold.

feeling greedy while filled with a need to reach your climax, you wrap your legs around his waist, trapping sylus against you as his cock hits you at an even deeper angle. your nails rake down his muscular back, earning a hiss from sylus as his thrusts seemed to stutter in response to the sudden pain.

“ngh… you’re getting pretty feisty, sweetie.” he tells you with a chuckle before biting down against your skin, “and i must say, i quite like it.”

his words were enough to make your walls clench around him, releasing yourself with a loud moan as you felt your warm juices escaping from you and down into the length of his cock. a low hiss comes out of sylus as well when he gives you a few more thrusts before completely stilling his hips, filling you up with his cum.

you let out a content purr, weakly pressing chaste kisses against the side of his face. you hear sylus’s chuckle once more before gently gripping at your thighs, slowly pulling out of you before carrying you toward the shower spray.

the hot water manages to soothe your aching muscles, with your moans still echoing in the shower stall when sylus slowly began washing your hair. as he lathers the shampoo within those tresses, he makes sure to massage and scratch at your scalp. “ahhh, this feels so good.”

while sylus continues washing your hair, he presses a series of kisses against your shoulders, “that’s the whole point, little dove.”

you spend at least an extra hour beneath the shower spray, with sylus making sure you were thoroughly cleaned before shutting off the water and carrying you out of the shower stall. after drying both of your forms, sylus helps you put on your robe while doing the same, pressing another kiss against your damp hair before unlocking the bathroom.

once you came back to your shared bedroom, you were immediately hit with the scent of your favorite takeout, seeing it already laid out on a cart for you. your wide eyes meet with sylus’s smug expression when he takes a hold of your hand and presses a kiss at the back of it, “i told you that i would spend the entire day spoiling you, right? i had luke and kieran pick this up for us since i figured you’d be… famished after our rigorous exercise.”

heat was felt against your cheeks once more, but even when you gave his chest a playful punch-

you still accepted his kiss when he captures your lips.

end notes: i’m afraid i had to write something for sylus to remind myself that im still his girl even after the caleb reveal 😭🙌🏻 currently unedited, but it looks decent enough to me 🙂‍↕️

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[leighsartworks216]

Sweet Tooth

Sylus x gn!Reader

I was nodding off while writing this cuz 1. I need a nap so bad and 2. It's just so peaceful the vibes of this fic are really nice

Edit: fixed some minor phrasing

Warnings: biting, kissing, established relationship, fluff, food/baking

Word Count: 1,771

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

No matter how long you spend with Sylus in the N109 Zone, your sleep schedule remains persistent. Sure, you stay up as late as you can to spend the night with him while he’s up and about, but the darkness, warm ambiance, and your body’s own internal clock turn against you sooner or later.

Sylus does the same for you, too. He grumbles about it, but he does enjoy spending the morning with you when you’re extra cuddly, searching for the last vestiges of your sleep before you have to get up. He’s better at staying awake, but you catch him dozing a lot, head tilted back and eyes closed as he lounges in a chair near you. It’s adorable. You love the effort you both put into trying to maximize your time together.

But today, Sylus is conked out. He was gone for most of the night and came back worn and weary. He didn’t have any visible injuries, but when you cupped his cheek and used your Evol, you could feel how drained his own was. He nearly fell asleep right there, eyes closing dangerously as he leaned into your touch and the soothing warmth of your ability. You dragged him to his bedroom, kissed his forehead, and told him to sleep. He mumbled vague threats about you waking him up, but they fell into silence before he finished any of them.

With the mansion to yourself for the day, you have to find ways to occupy yourself.

The twins and you play Kitty Cards for a bit, but they cheat so horrendously and tease you for losing, so that’s out until Sylus can sit behind you and glare at them any time their fingers try to slip more than one card from the draw pile.

You go through his books. A few are interesting; texts about Protocores and Evols stealing your attention for a time. But they have you yawning and wanting to crawl into bed with Sylus.

You even go to his dedicated exercise space, but without a partner to spar with, you don’t even work up a sweat before leaving.

Normally, you aren’t so restless. Any other time you had to spend the day with yourself, you were able to settle on something for long stretches of time, even into the night if you weren’t careful. Now, you can’t sit still for 30 minutes.

You check the time. 9:56. It’s not even 10 yet and you’re already struggling to come up with things to do. You fall into a couch in one of the lounge rooms with a humph, pulling out your phone and preparing to fall into a doomscroll through old Moments posts.

Fortunately, one of the first few posts is the perfect motivator not to: a recipe promising to be the number 1 rated chocolate chip recipe. You click on the article and scroll through until you reach the comments.

These are the best cookies I’ve ever had!!!

mmmnn wanna eat the dough raw its sooo gooooood

Tossing my store-bought cookies out rn I will only be making these from now on

It seems promising enough… You look at all the ingredients you need. It also seems simple enough for you to manage without burning the place down. You’d be surprised if the kitchen wasn’t already stocked with everything listed. But just in case…

You head down to the kitchen where the chef is coming up with meal suggestions for dinner. He’s jovial, always red in the cheeks and bright eyed. You wonder how he got hired on. You ask for help gathering the ingredients you need, and he’s happy to bounce from cabinet to fridge getting everything. Once they’re all laid out on the counter, you thank him and ask if you can have the kitchen to yourself. He bows and tells you to have fun, going over his list of notes as he leaves.

You turn the oven on, setting it to the correct temperature and letting it preheat. You forgot to ask the chef about bowls and measuring cups, but you find them easily and set them on the counter with the ingredients. Once you have music playing (quietly) on your phone, it’s easy to lose yourself in the process.

The world hones in on each step. You measure out the flour and sugars, mixing them together with a whisk. Without any preplanning, you have to soften the butter in the microwave before you can add it. Eggs are cracked against the countertop, calcium-rich shells scraping quietly as you set them aside to throw away later. A dash of vanilla, and a generous amount of chocolate chips, and the dough is ready.

You find a couple baking sheets and line them with parchment paper. As you roll small amounts of dough in your hands, you bounce on your feet, excited to taste your sweet treats in just 15 short minutes. You pinch off a little extra from one dough-ball and pop it into your mouth. If this was a preview for the finished product… You hurry to get them into the oven and set a timer.

To distract yourself from constantly checking the time, you clean up your mess. You put away what you remember the designated locations of, and set the rest aside for somebody else to deal with.

Hm, you should probably leave some for the chef, as a thank you for letting you borrow the space. And save a few for Luke and Kieran, or else they’d bug you for “forgetting” them for the rest of your days.

You open up cabinets until you find plates. There’s a set, the perfect size to divide the batch of cookies between three parties. You reach for it, stretching to be on your tip-toes. You gasp as a hand comes into your vision. When you try to back up, you hit a wall of muscle. A clingy wall of muscle, if the way his arm wraps around your waist and holds you there is any indicator. He grabs a plate from the stack.

“Ah, I need three,” you quickly tell him. He sighs, but does as you say, bringing down three plates and setting them on the counter. As soon as his hand is free, you’re being fully embraced by Sylus, both arms holding you close to him as he presses his face into your neck. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair. “Did I wake you up?”

It doesn’t seem like he’ll answer for a moment, until he breathes in deeply and presses a soft kiss along your shoulder. “No. I could smell whatever you’re making through the whole mansion.” His voice is quiet and rough, affected by his slumber.

You smile and turn your head to kiss his forehead. “I’m making cookies,” you say. “They’ll be done soon. I was gonna leave some for the chef and the twins. But most of them will be just for us.”

You glance at the timer, anxious to know how much time is left, but you still have several minutes before you need to worry about it. You tap his arms and he reluctantly loosens his hold, enough for you to turn around and hug him back. His arms tighten once more.

“You’re clingy when you’re tired, you know that?”

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “As if you haven’t insisted on having me carry you around everywhere before because you were, quote, ‘too tired to walk anymore.’”

You tug playfully at his hair. He groans and bites your neck. It’s not harsh, but it does sting. You’re sure it’ll leave a mark regardless.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he growls.

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Only a little. I think it’s cute.”

He doesn’t answer. His teeth nibble lightly along an invisible path, interspersed with light kisses. One of your hands combs through his soft hair, scratching his scalp lightly as you pet him. The other trails slowly along his back, side, and around to his stomach, searching for injuries hidden beneath his clothes. He notices, but he says nothing.

“Are you okay?” you whisper to him.

He pulls his mouth from your skin, finally lifting his head to look down at you with half-lidded eyes. The striking red of his irises seem softer right now, like the delicate plumage of a cardinal. “I’m alright.”

You study his face, as if you’d know if he was lying to you. But you believe him. So you nod and press a feather-light kiss to his lips. He sighs at the contact, like he’d never been touched so sweetly for hundreds of years. It’s such a beautiful sound.

The oven’s alarm startles you out of the moment. Sylus groans with a frown, letting you go and stepping away until his back hits the kitchen island. Your hand squeezes his side apologetically before you pull away.

You don a couple of oven mitts and open the oven door. The cookies are all aligned on the baking sheets, golden brown and slightly oozy from the overkill of chocolate you added. You excitedly pull each pan out and set them on the stovetop, before turning off the oven.

The recipe says to let them cool for five minutes… but you don’t have the patience for that today. You grab one of the plates from the counter and a spatula from a drawer, and carefully deposit some cookies onto the plate. You’re positively beaming when you bring them over to Sylus, holding the plate up to him.

“Want one?”

He hums. “Yes, but…” He takes the plate from you and sets it behind him. “You’ll burn your mouth if you eat one now.”

You half-heartedly glare up at him. “C’mon, Sy, I’ll be careful. I worked hard on these!”

“And you can stand to wait a few more minutes to taste the fruits of your labor, sweetie.”

“You just want more cuddles, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He grins. “Is there any better way to pass the time?”

You sigh, long and dramatic. But you wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his chest, right over his erratic heartbeat. He tangles a hand in your hair this time, cupping the back of your neck to hold you in place.

He feels the exact moment you go to reach for the plate and snatches your hand away from it, holding it captive by intertwining your fingers together. “Sneaky, but I’m not tired enough to pull that trick, kitten.”

You chuckle and press your nose against his septum. “It was worth a shot.”

[starmocha]

Things about Sylus' myth that fucked me up so bad I have been in a catatonic state for the last 10 hours:

SPOILERS FOR SYLUS' MYTH - BEYOND CLOUDFALL & MAIN STORY

Sylus never knowing joy, grew up not fully understanding what he is/accepting himself.

Young Sylus cutting off his own horns and tail repeatedly

Sylus witnessing a dragon genocide of his kinds and became the last surviving dragon on the planet

Sylus being fated to be killed by his archnemesis who is also the love of his life

Sylus' curse is to kill his beloved

Sylus' birth name is Stayrus - 'Sylus' is the name MC gives him 🥺

MC playing the requiem Sylus likes on an organ

MC singing that same requiem Sylus likes even as she is being executed

In Continuous Symphony, Sylus says she never finishes this song—it's a requiem for the departed, she doesn't want to play it for him, especially since in that scene, he is gravely injured because of her

MC made up the whole scene of Abyssal Blossom as a coping mechanism

She dreams that they had never left the chapel and are living a humble domestic life together away from the world

MC cursing Sylus' soul, damning him to live forever, for his soul to never fade away. He will only be able to die at her hands. Only she can grant him "a true death."

Essentially, the myth starts with Sylus being destined to die at MC's hands, and it ends with her cursing his soul to only die at her hands.

This is why the Sylus in the main story can't die. He can only die by MC's hands.

Remembering how Sylus looked pleased when MC threatened to kill him in Long-Awaited Revelry - it wasn't because he knew he couldn't die, but he hoped she would kill him finally.

He didn't die in LAR because when he forced her to pull the trigger, she cried out, "No!" which presumably negated the original curse.

The Evol Linkage is most likely related to either BC!MC's curse and/or the bond she and Sylus had formed before his death

Oh my god..... kindred spirits truly 😭😭😭 kissing the inside of her wrist 😭😭😭 💖 devotion 💖

When you realize Sylus' title "The Cursed One" is because it was MC who cursed him to live forever, to always be tied to her—forever

Sylus' love of music stemmed from MC in Beyond Cloudfall. We're not allowed to make fun of his singing anymore - our dragon baby can sing to his heart's content and y'all can just wear noise-canceling headphones - as ordained by me

Sylus and BC!MC being unable to escape their destiny. Sylus didn't want to give in to his instincts. MC didn't want to summon the greatsword. Everything happened against their will.

The implication that BC!MC had to have died somehow for our current MC to exist - she became a dragon in the end, returning to the same valley Sylus was in, but how did she die? Broken heart? Killed? Old age?

She is reborn again 🥺

"My dragon" - "My beloved" 🥺💔

Just... this...

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut…  but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!!  (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

“You don’t have a favorite color.”

“I… don’t, no.”

“But you’re quite partial to green.”

“I guess so—?”

“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”

“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”

Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.

You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.

–

You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish. 

And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward. 

"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence. 

(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.) 

A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.

“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”

“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies. 

The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.

“How much older?”

“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”

“Hm. You two are close?”

You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”

“Ah. Good.”

“... Yeah.” 

You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful. 

_

It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated. 

There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it. 

You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.

… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though. 

“You know how to play the violin.”

You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.

“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”

“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”

You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”

“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”

You freeze.

“…”

“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose. 

“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”

_

The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could; piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely. 

And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that? 

You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head. 

“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”

Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything; you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts left unspoken. 

“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand. 

Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”

And that was the end of it.

You tell yourself it’s exhausting – the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny. 

So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.

––––

He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out – not without giving him a slightly suspicious look. 

“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”

Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”

“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”

He shrugs. “If it helps.”

_

You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines. 

It’s not the first time he’s done it. 

But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest, the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same. 

Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again. 

Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—

“Sweetie?” 

You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.

Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready. 

After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–

So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop. 

It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—

listens. 

-

-

-

You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.

“That helped, didn’t it?”

If it were anyone else – or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now – you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.

But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable. 

You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.

I helped.

Tell me I did.

“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”

For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.

“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”

And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.

____

You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like. 

The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.

He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.

You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.

____

One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.

“Just an operation gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”

You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).

You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”

Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.

“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.

I won’t let you.

Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”

It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.

And I do. You have no idea.

____

There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.

“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”

You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.

He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”

Well. That.

Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.

It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.

And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?

Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.

When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart. 

You're quite partial to one in particular. 

My love.

____

“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”

You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk. 

____

You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.

So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.

Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other. 

You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist. 

The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb? 

Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”

It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions. 

It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this – just like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried away by the wind some days. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror. 

Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction. 

But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.

And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters. 

There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—

You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.

And if he did… Well.

“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”

“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”

“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.

Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.

“It’s– I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.” 

There. 

He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?” 

You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.

But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.

Of course he understands. He always does.

He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding. 

“Show me.” Trust me.

And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—

… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic. 

It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

There's a deafening silence. 

The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable. 

And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces: a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”

The flesh does not define you. 

Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

You—

“Look at me.”

A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless; like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice. 

—are all. And that is all there is to be. 

“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”

And like a marionette on a string, you obey. 

-

Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his. 

Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.

Carnal desire. In its purest form. 

Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured. 

A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.

“You’d like to know what I think?”

Yes.

No?

He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”

You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.

Sylus opens his mouth. 

You brace yourself for the inevitable.

-

-

-

A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again. 

____

Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.

It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically, your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head. 

The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.

The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating. 

You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat. Maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows. 

You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.

You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs. 

God, but you do.

Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend?? 

(Something more?) 

The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating. 

So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat. 

It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though; it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical. 

But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying. 

Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour. 

You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation. 

But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.

So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think. 

Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.

You pause on a Toji smut fic – one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance. 

Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t–

…

Your phone glitches. 

The Chrome app crashes.

And what do you think you’re doing?

Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing. 

You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.

Put on your headphones.

You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?

The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.

Now.

You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands. 

The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own – straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off. 

“Sy-Sy–” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I–I don’t—”

"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"

The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely. 

You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…

“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears your sweet moans spill so sinfully from those lips.”

His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”

A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.

“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”

You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.

“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”

His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.

“But it’s never for me, is it?”

“I–I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume–”

“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”

He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”

You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.  

“Do you understand?”

Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.

“Words, poppet.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”

____

“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?” 

You attempt to close your legs, shame rising in you like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.

“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”

The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler. Coaxing. “It’s just me.”

His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it. 

The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction; part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.

You give in.

Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission. It's surrender.

Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It's neither soft nor kind, but triumphant. Like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”

____

Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.

You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh– don’t piss me off.”

You hear a resounding chuckle. 

Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”

You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify. 

“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.

____

It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.

 

Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.

“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”

The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to. 

When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air. 

“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”

There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards. 

The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.

This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.

A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.

“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.

And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.

____

The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots – it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air. 

Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.

She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times; leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.

“You mind if I bum one?”

She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.

“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.

“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before. 

You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.

The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.

And then, unexpectedly:

“You look happy.”

The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.  

“You ‘ave someone?”

You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.

“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiles at that; easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.” 

There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”

You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden. 

And for once, you don’t mind being seen.

____

The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages. 

As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of stone-cold stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure. 

So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.

“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”

He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.

UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are. 

Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603. 

You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all. 

Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.

With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets. 

“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 

You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.

The notifications hit you, and you see texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.

Sylus. Of course.

The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message – ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned. 

The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—

Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.

Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze: 

How are you feeling? Did you just get back?

“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!” 

The words slips out as a frustrated cry.

Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.

His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be. 

A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?” 

How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?

The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts – your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly – you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness. 

“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.

You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.

You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.

You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged in your throat. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic. 

And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.

Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid. Unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”

Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”

A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.

It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.

You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.

“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”

____

This is a life

(Every possibility)

Free from destiny 

(I choose you, and you choose me) 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)

[mephistostwin]

Away from Him

SYLUS X NON-MC! READER

Part 2 Part 3

Reminders:

I do not own the characters, this is simply a story that I made up inside my head.

The plot and story line does not follow the events in the game.

MC, Sylus, and other characters' personality and behavior here are not the same as what's in the game.

I'm a first-time writer so please be understanding with the wrong grammars and misspelled words.

Expect that I probably did not use tumblr correctly because this is the first time that I will post an au here.

If this is not your type of story, please scroll up and ignore this post.

Some scenes that are like the scenes from other works are pure coincidence. I never intended to copy anyone's hard work and this is based on my imaginations alone.

Open for constructive criticism but be mindful of your words.

Description:

You are Sylus' best friend for 10 years. You already saw the versions of him that no one had ever got a chance to know or see. For the past years that you had been with him, your feelings for him grew and you thought that someday, you will become more than friends. Until something or someone appeared.

~~

Everything were all going well for the past years and months—until she showed up. You tried faking your reactions whenever you see them together. At first, you really did a great job at hiding your thoughts into playful and teasing manner. You shipped them and acted like you really love to see them being clingy to each other— but MC was not having it.

MC looked sweet and kind at first. She will constantly hug you and give you compliments. Because of her treatment towards you, you almost accepted the situation and move on so they can enjoy their time without a jealous eye piercing at their souls.

But it all changed one day when Sylus and MC finally announced that they are an official couple after five months of fixing their connection. You really never minded it and you started to hurt your own feelings and ego so you can be able to heal. To your surprise, MC's behavior changed. She became evil, possessive, hateful— every bad attitude, you name it.

She started pulling Sylus away from you and she will make it obvious that she does not like when he's around you. You normalized it when it first happened because you understand that no woman will like when their man is around other girls—but she tried to make you envious.

She will pull Sylus for a kiss or sit in his lap around you on purpose. She will look into your eyes and smirk as she do almost inappropriate things to or with Sylus in front of you. There are also times when she will confront you alone and shove it in your face that Sylus will never like or will never be with you because they are tied to a bond in every lifetime.

It is hard for you to avoid them both because you are Sylus' secretary. You arrange his meetings and some paper works and it is impossible to not cross paths with them. Of course, MC is always following him like a shadow. She will throw dirty looks at you when you go inside Sylus' office because of work purposes.

You wanted to tell Sylus about MC's behaviour because after all, you are still the best friend that he used to defend from any bad people. But you refrained yourself because you do not want them to fight over you and eventually ruin the connection that they built— already built in every lifetime.

But even Sylus has changed. He will give you extra works on purpose and it is obvious that the two of them planned it. He also became harsh and offensive when he talks to you. You tried taking his insults as a joke but you can't because it is clear that he meant to say it to hurt your feelings.

--

Today is nothing different. You are walking towards his office to hand over all the important papers that you have finished for the day. After you give this to him, you will head home and probably cry to sleep for the night. That became your routine for the past five months and fortunately, you can sometimes sleep without crying due to exhaustion. But most of the time, you will have a breakdown even if your body begs you for some rest.

As usual, Sylus is on his desk and typing in his laptop. His desk is clean and there is almost no papers because he passed some of his job to you because he had an urgent meeting with some of his business partners. MC is sitting in the chair in front of his desk. She's focused on spending Sylus' infinite money on online shopping.

It took less than a second for them to notice you as you entered the room. MC's eye roll and arched brow never missed your vision but you did not mind it, you are already immune to it. However, Sylus' nonchalant expression and eyes still hurt you. It's like someone is gripping at your heart tightly and wants to crush it under their palms. Sylus never looked at you like that long before MC came. Your Sylus was not like that.

“Here are the paper works that you gave to me earlier. I also have set all your meetings for this week. So far, there's no problem and adjustments to your appointments.”

You said like the usual times. The difference is just the tone is now more formal like you are a stranger working for a man that is hard to please or impress with normal work and conversation.

“Right... the only problem in the company is you...” MC murmured but she obviously wants you to hear it. She gave you a fake smile and a stare that holds grudges for no reason. You brushed it off and ignored the anger and pain that is building inside your chest.

“If there is nothing that you want me to do, I'll head home now.” You said with a slight and forced smile. Sylus looked up to you and brushed his hair. He smirked at you like he wants to fill your system up with anxiety.

“I want you to resign...” You were already expecting that he will say this because he always joke about this everytime that you are in his office while MC is also there. You gave him a nod and a smile like what he said was nothing serious.

“Is there anything else that you want?” You slightly tilt your head. He shaked his head and smiled— not to you, but to MC.

“Now, please leave us alone and leave. Wouldn't want my kitten to be distracted by some... dramatic person.” He said it like it's casual and not something that can hurt your feelings. You were already used to his new behavior towards you but everything that slips from his mouth never failed to shoot daggers to your already-fragile heart.

You gave them a faint smile and turned away from them and walked towards the door. You closed the door as you went outside his office but the pain that is throbbing in your chest made you grip the handle of the door.

You cleaned up your desk and put all your belongings inside your bag. You are planning to do his last request. Just as when you are heading out of the building, you saw the twins— Luke and Kieran— walking towards you.

“Hey... you brought out more bags than usual... don't tell us that you're finally leaving us all alone?” Kieran said, disappointment is evident in his tone. You smiled at them but pain is still showing in your eyes.

“As a loyal employee and a friend, I have to fulfill my boss’ last request...” You said with a kidding tone but the twins are obviously not happy about it.

“Don’t leave us with that girl... She's clearly fake. We wouldn't want to be around her suffocating energy instead of your warm presence.” Luke begged while caressing your hands that are gripping your bags.

But your decision is now final and you are willing to stand firm for it. You comforted the twins and you told them that they are going to be fine because you guys will still contact each other. You bid all your goodbyes with a lot of hugs and tearing up like you are gonna be separated from them forever.

You walked to your car and drive to your home. Each place that you pass reminds you of the memories of you and Sylus together that you should forget because he already belong to someone else— even before you came.

When you got back home, you started your night routine even if your body feels like it will collapse because of the pain and exhaustion that you are holding for such a long time. After your routine, you head straight towards your desk to fix your resignation letter.

Every letter and word that you type adds a heavy feeling that makes you sick. Your past self would never imagine that your bond with Sylus will end this way.

You stayed up all night because of fixing your resignation letter and booking a plane ticket to Linkon city. You also found an expensive apartment there and it already have all furnitures and essential things. Fortunately, you still have your card that Sylus gave you as gift for your birthday last year. You were too shy to spend it because you already save up tons of money because of your high salary but you never knew until now that it will be useful for you this time.

You get to sleep for 2 hours after packing all your things. Your alarm went off at 8:00 am and you had no choice but to wake up and get ready. Your flight is at 11:00 am and you still have almost 4 hours to prepare yourself.

After you prepared, you placed all your bags inside your car. You drove off to a near restaurant to have your breakfast and to buy a takeout lunch for later.

Just as when you are about to drive to the airport, you remembered that you did not prepare the requirements for your car to be transported to Linkon city. “Fuck, why am I being so unfortunate now? argh, I'm so dumb for forgetting my car...”. You curse yourself until you suddenly remembered a memory.

“Hey, don't curse yourself. You're too precious for that, sweetheart. It's not your fault.”

His voice and his memory rang into your mind. You did not instantly notice the hot tears slowly running down your cheek. You were not the type of person that swears on others but you can't help it. “You’re such an asshole, motherfucker.” You say as you wipe your tears.

Finally, you arrive at the airport. You decided to just book a ticket for your car to be transported to linkon even if it will take a lot of days to have your car again. You definitely had no choice.

“This is what you get when you suddenly act on something without a lot of time for preparation...” You murmured to yourself as you finished your transaction about your car at the lobby.

-Timeskip-

After hours in the air, you finally landed in Linkon city. The warm sunlight and comforting air greeted you. For a moment, you felt a relieving presence in your surroundings.

Away from trouble... Away from him.

You had to book an uber to get to your apartment. “If only I prepared the requirements for my car earlier...” you sighed in disappointment.

After you arrived in your apartment, you slipped into your comfortable casual clothes. You tried to stay awake but your lack of sleep pulled you into the darkness as you relax yourself on the comfortable couch.

You woke up to be greeted by the dark sky and shining moon that you can see outside in your balcony. You checked the time and it is already 6:45 pm. You forced yourself to stand and make your appearance more presentable. You are going to a nearby coffee shop that you saw earlier and you hope that they are still open.

After getting ready, you head out and walked a not-so-long distance from your apartment. The coffee shop is just five buildings away from the building of your apartment.

You are happy that you manage to come inside the coffee shop because they are still open until 10 pm. You ordered your favorite drink and snack. All of it taste delicious and kind of boost your mood. Your table is in front of the glass wall and you enjoyed the view of the towering buildings and cars passing by.

You were happily eating your meal until someone spoke beside you, startling you and almost made your snack slip out of your hands. “Can I sit here with you?”

“Ow, sorry for shocking you...” A man with a purple hair smiled at you. You gave him back a smile. The one that is not forced but genuine. You don't know why but his presence carry an unknown feeling that soothes your worries. But you won't admit it because of course, you just met him tonight in less than an hour— less than a minute, rather.

You gave him a hesitant nod and adjusted your position so he can comfortably sit beside you.

“I never saw you here in this area before... are you a new resident?” He asks as he sips his drink.

“Yeah... I actually just came earlier and I happen to see this café on my way here and thought that maybe I can give it a try.” You smiled as you looked down on your lap. You are shy to talk to someone else about your day because you are used to yapping to the twins or him.

“Oh, that's really nice! I can recommend you a lot of amazing places that are near here.” He giggled. His cute gestures while talking makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

You guys talked until both of you finished your meal. You really enjoyed the stories that he told you— or maybe, you just like the excitement in his eyes as he talks about things that you cannot relate to.

“Where do you live? I'll accompany you to make sure that you get back home safely.” He said as he looks down on you. You are a lot smaller than him and it makes you embarrassed but you hide it.

“I live in that building— just five buildings away from here.” You pointed.

“What a coincidence! I also live there!” He excitedly said as he chuckled. “Which floor is your apartment in?” he asked.

“Fifth floor, apartment 502” you shortly replied, sleepiness evident from your eyes and tone.

You guys talked again as you both walked towards the building. He never ran out of stories and it is also convenient for you because it helps you to stay awake as you both walk.

You both reached the door of your apartment. You turned and looked at him to say thank you and good night.

“Thank you... I never really asked for your name after all that yapping we did.” You both laughed.

“I’m Rafayel, by the way. And also, I live here in 501— In front of your apartment... hehe...” he massaged the back of his neck as he let out an awkward and shy chuckle.

“That’s nice to know! But you're full of secrets huh..” you teased him and he smiled.

“My apologies...” he hesitated to continue his words because he also does not know your name yet.

“Y/N... My name is Y/N.”

“Yeah, Y/N. What a lovely name.” You smiled at his compliment and lightly pinched his arm while giggling.

“Uhh before I forgot, here's my contact number. I'm literally living just in front of your home but I rarely come out because I usually paint or I'm not home because of something... Maybe you can call me when you need help.” He handed you his phone so you can type his contact number on yours. You also typed your contact number in his phone so he can also call you when he needs help.

“It’s nice to meet you, Raf! But I really need to rest now, my body is screaming for some sleep.” You warmingly smiled at him and he blushed because of your smile and the nickname that you gave him.

“Take a rest now, Y/N. I'll see you again tomorrow. Bye!”

You wave your goodbyes to each other as you faced the opposite side of the hallway to go inside both of your own apartments.

You did your night routine. You put layers of layers of skin care and body care in the bathroom and it made you sigh in relief. You felt clean and it makes you happy.

After your pampering routine, you head to the bedroom to get some rest for the night. You jumped on top of the soft bed and hugged your pillows as you pulled the blanket towards your fragile body.

You are so sleepy but you still managed to stare at the ceiling and rethink all the things that happened even when your heart begs you to stop hurting yourself. It is painful but you can't help to get your mind away from the thoughts about it. It is like your mind is not your own, but his.

But out of all the painful memories that you reminisced about, you still smiled at the thought of having a new friend and life in a new city. Maybe, just maybe, you can start a new life without him. Away from the memories of him.

You are so drawn on the memories of the past and what could have been if MC never returned. A part of you wants to free yourself from his life but a part of you also wants to come back and make him realize that you are the one that stayed with him in this lifetime.

But you do not stand a chance with fate.

You remembered the things that MC told you that made your heart ache. “We’re tied by fate, while you? oh, you're nothing but his little secretary for years... and you will stay in that place while you watch us be connected and build our future family...”.

She was aware...

She was fucking aware of the feelings that you have for Sylus that you buried just for the sake of their bond. Her evil character that was disguised before really makes you amused.

You begged your mind to stop replaying the evil things that she said. You pulled your hair and curled up into a ball. Your tears run in your cheeks as your heart tightens. Tugging your shirt did not help and it makes you more miserable.

You love him but your mind tells you to hate him for throwing away everything that you did just for his bond with MC. You hate the way that he picked the months that he is with MC than the years that you stayed for him, no matter what the situation is.

Darkness slowly took over you as your chest became more tighter, making it hard for you to breath. The pain is suffocating you but you can't do anything about it. After all, he is still the medicine for the pain that he also caused.

You felt your eye lids becoming more and more harder to keep open until you decided to let the darkness completely consume you.

“I don't know what will happen to me but I know that I wouldn't want to see you in the moment that I wake up.” You said as you slowly closed your eyes, still crying because of the pain.

“I love you Sylus... but I'm slowly starting to hate you...”

(Note: Idk if this will reach a lot of readers and I don't know if I should do a part 2 hehe)

[ollyissleepy]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬

summary: you and your boyfriend stumble upon a mistletoe, you know what that means~ a/n: I had so much fun writing this, especially Sylus's part so I hope you enjoy <3 cw: swearing, some parts might be slightly suggestive, it get's a bit steamy (with Sylus) but nothing to explicit

series masterlist

"You're got to be kidding me" you say upon seeing yet another mistletoe. It's the 4th one you found in the house. You look over at Rafayel, knowing he's behind all of this.

"You know the rules, baby" he says, bending down to kiss you.

"Why would you do that?" You put you hand over his mouth to stop him and ask.

"It's a tradition! We have to celebrate!" Rafayel reasons with you, still bend to kiss you.

"But we did! You put them all around the house I think it's enough to count!" You try to step back slightly, but Rafayel moves faster than you and sneaks his arms around your waist.

"Really? I don't remember that. I guess we just have to kiss again to make sure" he kissed you lightly, as if testing the waters. Once you don't protest, he deepens the kiss.

You wrap your hands around Rafayel's neck, pulling him even closer. He smiles against your lips, knowing that you'll go along with his shenanigans no matter if that means you'll have to kiss 100 times.

"I hope you know there's at least 10 more around the house"

"Xavier look! A mistletoe!" You happily point out the plant hanging from your doorway as if you weren't the one to put it there. "You know what that means."

You pull Xavier down to kiss him. It was short, more of a peck than a proper kiss. You pull away, fully stepping into the kitchen. You don't notice how Xavier went deep into his thoughts.

"We need to kiss" you close the fridge you just opened to look at him.

"Why?" You ask confused.

He points at the same mistletoe that still hangs in the doorway. You laugh and shake your head. Yet, you go along with it and kiss Xavier once again. This time the kiss lasted much longer with your boyfriend's hands exploring your body, until they find their rightful place on your hips.

"We need to buy more of this plant."

You once again find yourself in one of the hallways of the hospital waiting for your boyfriend. You didn't pay much attention as to where you're standing, unaware of the mistletoe that's hanging above you.

"Hi, love" Zayne says, kissing you. It catches you of guard, as he's not fond of publicly displaying his affections.

"What's all that about? Not that I'm complaining, though" you wrap your arms around Zayne's neck.

Zayne doesn't reply, instead points your attention to something hanging from the ceiling. You look up to see a small mistletoe. You look back at Zayne and smile.

"Well, I didn't know it was there, so we have to kiss again" you pull closer, your lips almost touching. "I don't make the rules."

Zayne locks his lips with yours. You deepen the kiss and Zayne's arms sneak around your waist. The two of you were so into the kissing that you didn't notice someone staring at you from a distance. Once you pull away so hear somebody clapping and you turn around to see Dr. Grayson doing so and talking about 'it worked! It fucking worked!'. You look back at Zayne, who's face is getting red, and giggle. You boyfriend sighs.

"We're never doing that again."

You balance yourself on the chair in Sylus's office, messing around with tape to hang some mistletoe from the ceiling. You're almost done, when you loose your balance. You prepare for the fall when a pair of strong arms catches you.

"Careful, kitten" the person that caught you turned out to be your boyfriend, Sylus. "I'd hate to see you hurt."

"Well, with you around I could never get hurt" you smile at him, still remaining in his arms. "Besides, I wanted to surprise you."

"With what? You already decorated my office?" Sylus sits down on his chair, you still in his arms. He makes sure you're comfortable in his lap.

"I forgot the mistletoe, so I had to fix it" you point at a small plant on the ceiling.

Sylus smiles, noticing the mistletoe. He looks down on you, his sight lingering on your eyes for a bit before it goes down on your lips. You smile, adjusting yourself so your face is closer to his. Sylus closes the gap between the two of you, kissing you slowly. His hands make their way towards your ass, squeezing it. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming around his muscular chest. You were about to start unbuttoning his shirt, when he pulled away from you. Sylus looks you in the eyes, his hand carrying your cheek.

"We'll do more later, kitten. I promise."

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 10, A Saturday well spend

Masterlist Word count: 2.8 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Yes, I HC Simone as a lesbian. Fight me.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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Zayne watches you intently at the breakfast table. He can tell you're nervous to see what mindset Sylus will be in when he gets here, but he's proud of you for insisting on him joining or you going home. With past boyfriends you had never cared this much. It was never because you didn't like or love them, more so because they did not care the same way about you, and you were tired of giving them everything while getting nothing back. 

That being said, he doesn't like that you're just poking around at your breakfast without taking a single bite. They've got a full day ahead and with Sylus joining them, it may become emotionally exhausting. That's not a problem of course, but you should eat. 

'Please eat,' he mumbles. You look up from the table with wide eyes, just now snapping back to reality. Thoughts had been flooding your mind. Everything that could've happened to Sylus runs around your head all at once. You are terrified of what you might see when he gets here. 'I know it's nerve-wracking to sit here and wait, but you need to eat. We've got a long day ahead of us.' 

'You're right.' Of course he's right. He's always right. You finally take a bite. The food is absolutely delicious as it always is when you let Zayne choose the hotel. For a second he revels in your satisfied expression before turning back to his own meal. 

'How do you want to do this?' 

'Hm?' 

'Do you want to take Sylus along for everything or do you want to chance the schedule?' 

'Let's just keep to the schedule. I really had to fight him on coming here so I think the last thing he would want is to feel like he's keeping me from doing what I want,' you explain to Zayne, who nods along with your words. 

'Sounds like a plan.' He gets up from his seat and you notice he's already done eating. 'If you're okay with it, I'm going make a reservation for a restaurant.' You nod. He's got a point. Most places can usually squeeze in two people but three becomes a crowd. 'Make sure you finish your breakfast. Doctor's orders.' Your lips pull into a smile for the first time today as you nod in agreement once more. 

'Thank you, Zayne. For understanding.' 

'Of course.' He walks off, heading back to the room while you finish munching on your breakfast and staring out the window. Your phone is next to your plate and you've been waiting for Sylus to send an update on his whereabouts. He was texting you very early this morning that he couldn't sleep so that he would just head out so he could be there in the morning. He could be arriving at any moment. 

That's when you hear the rumbling of a motorcycle outside. Excited, you quickly shove your breakfast into your mouth and run towards the lobby where you wait for him to park his bike and head inside. It just takes a few minutes before he come sauntering in wearing his motorcycle gear, his helmet swinging in his hand, saddlebags thrown over his shoulder. You almost have to take a moment to compose yourself. Your man looks so handsome. 

'Sylus,' you call. He looks over and smiles, seemingly shedding all his worries the second he sees you. You run over to him and hug his waist. His free arm wraps around you and you feel his lips on top of your head. 

'Thank you,' he whispers as you feel his body soften underneath your touch. Whatever happened must've shaking him up quite a bit for him to be so tense. You decide against asking about it for now. 

'Come on, let me show you our room.' You take his hand and start dragging him towards the elevators. 

'Our room? I thought you would be sharing a room with Doctor Zayne?' 

'No, Zayne likes his privacy, so we get separate rooms.' 

'I like the sound of that,' he teases, shaking your hand off and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 'And Doctor Zayne is truly alright with all this?' You nod enthusiastically as you press the button to the sixth floor. He smiles ever so slightly and leans down to press a kiss on your lips. 'You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me.' 

'Sylus, you are wonderful. You deserve everything good that comes your way.' 

'You are too kind, sweetie.' The elevator dings at your floor. 

'I am,' you agree. 'Come on, let's drop your stuff off and tell Zayne that you're here.' He stiffens up a little bit again but does let himself be led by you. You notice his hesitation and stop in your tracks. 'Sylus, I don't know what your history is with Zayne but you should know that he takes patient confidentiality very seriously if it has anything to do with that. He hasn't told me anything nor will he ever tell me anything that goes on inside hospital walls.' 

That seems to do it and he follows you inside the room. 'This is nice,' he notes as he drops his things and looks around the room. 

'Oh, you know, maybe get changed first. We're going on a hike in a bit. I'll go tell Zayne you're here.' You almost rush out of the room again but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest like you're light as a feather. His eyes look at you so intensely, so full of love. 

'Let me just hold you for a second.' You give him your consent by wrapping your arms around his waist once more and holding him as close as you physically can while resting your head against his chest. You feel him lean his head on top of yours as his breathing slowly becomes steadier and his heartbeat slows down as he slowly sways with you. 'Thank you.' 

'You already said that.' 

'I know.' 

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The only thing you did not account for when inviting Sylus along is that you are now not on a trip with one tall man, but with two. The hike feels like a run, walking around town feels like a hike, and your neck fucking hurts. But at least your two favorite people are getting along great. 

You groan as the three of you finally sit down at the restaurant. Your legs are tingling from all the walking and running. The two men sit across from each other, and you sit at the head of the small table. Zayne picked a fairly nice restaurant but nothing to intimidating. It's something that you would have picked too. 

'Doctor Zayne, I want to thank you again for letting me come along,' Sylus says as if he hasn't said it at least five times today. Zayne shakes his head with a laugh. 

'Please, just call me Zayne.' 

'Sorry. Hard to get it out of my system.' He looks over at you, sitting there with a self-satisfied grin while looking at them interact. 'You're enjoying yourself.' 

'It's hard not to. My two favorite men get along. That's something to enjoy,' you tell him. He huffs a laugh in response. Zayne chuckles and pats Sylus hand. 

'I'm glad I finally have someone to take her off my hands.' 

'Hey, don't say it like that. I am lovely,' you playfully argue as you gently nudge Zayne's shoulder. Sylus can't help but stare at you with a lovesick look on his face. He just loves watching you, loves seeing you happy, loves you. Despite all of that, there's a stinging in his chest. His situation changed yesterday, which might mean changing the relationship you have with each other. He'll enjoy it for as long as it lasts. 

'It's no trouble,' he replies to Zayne's joke, 'I'd gladly take her off your hands any time.' 

'You two need to stop talking about me like I'm a burden,' you warn with a teasing grin. You quickly notice the mischievous glint in Sylus eyes as he leans his elbows on the table and folds his hands together, pretending to exclude you from the conversation. 

'Say, Zayne, how did you deal with her constantly being at your door?' 

'Excuse me,' you exclaim, pretending to be offended. 

'Oh, I was barely home because of work so she was barely at my door. The texts though,' Zayne goes along with the joke, a small smile playing on his lips. 

'Rude,' you huff. 

'See, the texts I can handle. It's the constant knocking.' 

'I don't knock at your door all the time.' 

'Well, it's your problem now.' 

'You guys are being mean. How about I leave you on your date and I'll go home,' you suggest, keeping up the offended act as you pretend to get up. Sylus quickly grabs your wrist as you are standing and pulls you down far enough to press a quick kiss on your lips. 

'I'd never betray you for some man,' he whispers to you. It's a joke, all of it is still a joke, but the words come out so sincere. You sit back down with a pretend pout and cross your arms. 'Alright, what will it take for you to smile again?' 

'Nothing. I'm never smiling again.' 

'You sure?' You notice his hand inching closer to your stomach. He is going to try and tickle you. 

'Woah, no, stop, don't do it. I'll smile. Look, big smile.' You pull the biggest smile on your face. Zayne chuckles as Sylus grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. 

'I prefer you like this,' he whispers, hoping that Zayne can't hear it. He can and he is truly happy for you and Sylus. He's almost gleaming seeing that you have found someone that truly loves you and that Sylus has found someone to love him unconditionally. It's perfect. 

'Hi, my name is Simone. I'll be your server. Did we know what we want to drink yet?' All three of you look up at the waitress a little dumbfounded. Well, except for Zayne. He's the only one who's been looking over the menu. 

'A bottle of still water for the table please. She'll have a glass of vermentino. What do you want Sylus?' You notice the way the waitress is looking between the two men you are with and then at you. She's very pretty and you trust Sylus, but you really don't feel like seeing him get flirted with all night. While Sylus quickly glances over the menu, you take his hand that was laying on the table. 

'Do you want to share a bottle of wine, Sylus?' He leans towards you so the waitress can't hear your little conversation. 

'Sweetie, you are drunk after three glasses of wine, besides I prefer red,' he says with a grin. Clearly he has noticed the way the waitress was looking at him and your slightly possessive nature. It feels like a whirlpool of mixed emotions in his stomach. He remembers how possessive his ex used to be and he knows you're not like that, at the same time he kind of likes it when you do it. He has to remind himself that it's a completely different situation. 'And I only have eyes for you.' He turns back to the waitress. 'I'll have a glass of the Hacienda Monasterio.' 

'I'm sorry, that wine only goes by the bottle.' 

'Can we take the bottle if we don't finish it?' 

'Yes, but I do have to note it's an expensi-' 

'Then it's not a problem.' You try to glance at the wine list to see the price, but he returns it to the waitress before you can see. 

'Alright, I'll go get those drinks and I'll take your food order when I come back.' The waitress almost turns, but decides she has one more thing to say. 'Also, I saw you get a bit uncomfortable so I feel the need to say this,’ she says as she looks at you with a kind smile, 'I am a lesbian.' 

Zayne almost bursts out in laughter, Sylus puts his hand in front of his mouth to hide his smile, and you just sit there catching flies with your mouth. Zayne pinches your thigh to snap you out of it and you quickly apologize. 'I am so sorry. It's just-' 

'No, no, I get it,' Simone says with a smile, 'he's very attractive, as are you. I was just trying to figure out if you were friends or a polycule.' Sylus can't hold it anymore. He tries to bite down on his teeth to keep his laughter from coming out but it fails terribly, as is Zayne. You don't quite know what to say but you suddenly really like this waitress, and you will be flirting with her to tease Sylus. 

'We are not a polycule. He is my boyfriend and that is my best friend,' you explain. She nods and bites her lip a little. 'Why? Were you hoping there was space for one more.' 

She chuckles, seeing where you're going with your joke. Teasingly, she brushes a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. 'I mean.' The two of you burst out laughing together at the dumbfounded faces of the men at the table. 'Okay, okay, I'm getting those drinks because I might die of laughter if I stay here.' 

'Thank you Simone.' You turn to Sylus, who now looks a little conflicted. 'What?' 

'Are you also into women?' 

'Why do you ask?' 

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Sylus paid for the whole dinner as a thank you to Zayne for allowing him to come along. Also, he did not want either of you to pay for an expensive bottle of wine he planned to finish at home.  

When you came back to the hotel, you had a long talk about sexuality and boundaries in the bathroom while you shower and he brushes his teeth and does his skincare. Normally, Sylus and you shower together. That's what you have been doing for the past few weeks at least but today feels different. There's a distance between you two that you can't quite put your finger on. You figure it has something to do with what happened to him yesterday, but he won't tell you anything. 

As you sit on the bed dressed in one of Sylus’ shirts that you stole recently, reading your book, you listen to the shower turn off. You wonder if he'll feel comfortable sleeping with you in one bed if he doesn't feel comfortable taking a shower with you. It's almost as if you're meeting him for the first time all over again. 

The words on the page you're reading don't seem to come through in your mind. You keep rereading the same passage, trying to keep your mind on the page. It doesn't help. Thoughts are racing through your mind faster than you can keep up with. Worst case scenarios keep popping up and you have to convince yourself he'd tell you if it came to that. 

Not that it works. He has barely told you anything about his past, nor why he had a panic attack a few months back. It seems he keeps his secrets close to his chest where they can only hurt him, but he should know by now that nothing could make you run away. 

The bathroom door unlocks and Sylus steps out. He's only wearing boxers and is lazily drying his hair with a towel. For a second, he stops in his tracks when he sees you in his shirt and you notice the slightest twitch of his lips into a smile. 

You close your book as he throws the towel in a corner and approaches the bed. The worries you had melt away when he slips under the covers with you and pulls you into him. His arms wrap around you like you're his safety blanket and his head is against your shoulder. You instinctively start scratching his head with your one hand and put the other on his skin as your legs slot between his. 

It takes mere seconds for his breathing to slow down. He must've been exhausted. He did tell you he couldn't sleep last night but he didn't let it be known that he was tired all day. 

'Sylus?' He hums in response, the rumble going through his chest. 'You know there is nothing you could tell me that would scare me away, right?' He doesn't respond, but his arms tighten around you. 'I love you.' 

It's the first time you've said it and you've been scared to do so. The last person you told you loved them thoroughly explained that they didn't love you back, so not hearing him say something right away is nerve-wracking. Sylus looks up at you and presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, pulling you impossibly close as if he wants to absorb you into his very being. 

'I love you too.' 

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[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS as Exes

AN: I don't need sleep, I need answers.

Pairing: LaDS boys x fem reader

Ingredients: 75 % angst, 10% sulking, 15% comedy (by 👃🏻🩲)

My Fav: Zayne and Xavier (seriously why do you guys force me to write so much angst, I love hate it? 🫂)

Xavier:

Somehow friend-zoned. Again. Just like every lifetime.

He’s around a lot. At work, at your apartment, hell, the man’s still your neighbor. And of course, there’s the past lore.

You were engaged once. It just didn’t work out. Right person, wrong time. The kind of joke your shared story arc thrives on.

But Xavier holds onto the hope anyway.

He knows he’s your soulmate. Has always known. And if that means standing by your side as a friend while you love other people, while you build a life without him, so be it.

He’ll wait. He always does.

Because maybe next lifetime… the timing will finally be right.

(hug him rn 🔪🔪)

Rafayel:

You both have a daughter.

But becoming queen, reviving his kingdom, giving him your heart, had been your breaking point.

You loved Rafayel. But loving a sea god was not your forte. It wasn’t the life you wanted, and that hurt Rafayel more than he lets on.

He couldn’t understand why you left something so perfect. A throne beside him, a daughter between you, a kingdom rebuilt through sacrifice, and you still walked away.

He keeps your daughter. Raises her with so much love it’s almost painful. But part of him knows he’s holding onto her in the hopes that you’ll come back.

For her sake. For his.

He’s heartbroken that you refuse to let go of your world, when he once shattered his kingdom to make you his.

He has waited to long but now...now he has an endearing daughter. His anchor.

Zayne:

He was never there. Not really.

You sort of drifted apart during the end credits. Zayne loved his work—too much. He worked to take away other people’s pain. But somehow, he always managed to hide his own. Even from you.

Your marriage withered slowly. The silence grew heavier each time you sat alone, waiting for him to come home. The distance hollowed you out, until you both existed in separate worlds under the same roof.

And when you left, he got worse.

He doesn’t go home anymore. He works until he collapses in a back alley or some dingy cafe. He ends up in the ER more than once. You’re called in, rushed in, drenched in wanderer blood, to sit beside him while the machines beep steadily.

He punishes himself for failing you. For failing at everything.

And sitting next to him, in the chaos of the hospital, you feel the weight of it all. The unfairness of it.

(You might just have to pull a Caleb and abduct him to a secret island)

Sylus:

Divorce? That didn’t happen.

Sylus is still your boyfriend. He’s delusional, but come on, you’re both fooling no one.

The epitome of on-and-off.

"I’m going to kill you," you groan, waking up next to him for the fourth time this year. It’s February.

"Good morning, kitten," he drawls, already pulling you into his arms. He ignores your glare and peppers your face with kisses until you give up struggling.

The baby monitor crackles. Your son’s cry pierces the air.

"Your turn."

Sylus grins. He gets out of bed, sliding into your robe (tearing the shoulder seam. Again). He always stretches it out, just like he always stretches his way back into your life.

This is your life. Messy and chaotic. But it’s yours.

And Sylus? Yeah, he’s not going anywhere.

Caleb:

lmao no.

Hell nah. Caleb would rather commit a felony than accept being your ex.

Either:

He’s in jail. (Domestic terrorism was involved.)

You’re in his basement. (Voluntarily or otherwise.)

He’s in a psych ward, hallucinating a life where you’re still together.

There’s no clean breakup with Caleb. He’s the man who does not share. If you leave him. He’ll find you. If you try to run. He’ll track you down. And if you betray him. God help you.

Because Caleb isn’t letting you go. Ever.