#sylus is Not Okay and its personal

[neonbonded]

Right Here, but Still Too Far

♡ ft. Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus x fem!reader ♡ cw: emotional distance, soft angst, quiet longing, domestic disconnect, subtle heartbreak, husband-core devastation ♡ a/n: You live together. You sleep in the same bed. You share meals,kiss each other goodnight. But sometimes? Love gets quiet. And all it takes is one soft, honest “I miss you” to shatter the space between.

Caleb

The kitchen smells like garlic and butter.

The sun’s already gone down, but the lights are still off—just the stove hood casting a soft yellow over the counter, catching on the steam from the pasta pot.

Caleb’s moving like a machine. Quiet. Efficient.

One hand stirs the sauce, the other balances the baby monitor against his shoulder. He hasn’t sat down in hours. The front of his shirt is wrinkled from being used as a napkin. His hair’s a little damp at the edges like he forgot to fully dry it after his three-minute shower.

You’re watching him from the table.

You’re not fighting. There’s no coldness. No tension.

But something’s… distant.

Like you’re living next to each other. Not with each other.

He hums to himself softly—some melody you can’t place. He opens a cabinet with his foot. He says, “You want cheese?” like it’s code for love, but he doesn’t look at you when he asks.

You smile anyway. “Sure.”

He grates it. Sprinkles it. Passes you a bowl.

Then goes right back to moving.

The baby monitor crackles.

A timer goes off.

He starts unloading the dishwasher.

And you just sit there, soup cooling in front of you.

You’re still staring at him when it happens—when the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Soft. Honest.

Like breathing.

“I miss you.”

He doesn’t turn around right away.

His brain doesn’t process it at first. He’s too busy checking the time on the oven clock, flipping dinner, wondering if the laundry’s dry.

Then the words echo back in his chest.

I miss you.

His hand stills on the spatula.

“You…” He turns. “You what?”

You shrug. A little too fast. “Nothing. I mean—you're here. I know. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” He sets the pan down—burner still on. Crosses the room in three strides.

“You miss me?” he asks again, slower now. Like he’s scared of the answer.

You nod. “You’re always doing stuff. For the baby. For me. You never sit down anymore.”

He swallows hard.

“I didn’t realize I stopped.”

You smile, just a little. “You didn’t. You just… drifted.”

He sinks to his knees in front of your chair, rests his cheek against your belly like he used to before the baby was born.

“I’ve been right here,” he whispers. “But I’ve been so focused on taking care of everything—I didn’t realize I left the part that mattered.”

Your fingers slide into his hair.

He lets them.

“I miss you too,” he says softly. “So much it hurts.”

You bend down, rest your forehead against his.

And for the first time in weeks?

He breathes.

Really breathes.

Xavier

You don’t even realize how quiet it’s gotten until the microwave beeps.

Xavier is still standing where he’s been for the last five minutes—staring blankly at the digital numbers. Not opening the door. Not speaking. Just… existing.

He’s like that lately.

He’s here, technically. He tucks you in at night. He leaves lights on when you fall asleep on the couch. He still makes tea for you in the morning—even if it’s lukewarm by the time you notice.

But it’s like you’re in the same room, and still a world apart.

You don’t blame him. Not really. He’s always been a little detached, a little distant, like his thoughts are off somewhere else.

But lately?

He doesn’t come back.

Not all the way.

You shift on the couch, blanket pulled up around your knees. “The tea’s cold,” you say, just to say something.

He nods without turning. “I’ll reheat it.”

Silence again.

The microwave keeps beeping.

You don’t mean to say it. You’re not even thinking about saying it.

But then—

“I miss you.”

It comes out soft. Small. A little raw around the edges.

And it lands.

Xavier blinks. Slowly.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just… stands there.

Then the microwave beeps again, louder this time.

He opens the door. Reaches for the mug. Stops halfway.

His hand is shaking.

“I didn’t know,” he says finally. Voice low. Controlled.

You shift on the couch, throat tight. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I thought I was being present.”

You shake your head. “You’ve been nearby. That’s not the same.”

He turns, tea still in hand.

When he sees your face—really sees it—something in his own shifts.

He walks to you. Kneels down in front of the couch.

And offers the mug like a peace offering.

You take it. He doesn’t move.

Then he says—soft, barely audible:

“I didn’t realize I was missing you too.”

And for the first time in days?

He lets himself stay.

Rafayel

It starts with him in the kitchen—shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, music playing in the background, something herby and over-complicated simmering on the stove.

He’s singing. Loudly. Off-key.

You watch him from the kitchen table, head resting on your hand, eyes half-lidded. You’ve been watching him for twenty minutes—gliding back and forth across the tile like a tragic chef-prince in exile.

He narrates everything he’s doing. Dramatically.

“The rosemary must be coaxed, not crushed!” “Where is the sea salt?” “Oh, my darling olive oil—don’t burn me now—!”

You should be laughing.

But your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Because this is the third night this week he’s filled the space with music and dancing and noise. Third night he’s performed affection like a monologue—but hasn’t touched you once.

It’s not cold. Not cruel. Just… hollow.

Like he’s afraid that if he slows down, he’ll feel something he doesn’t want to.

You look down at the pasta cooling in front of you. Your voice comes out softer than you expect.

“I miss you.”

He stops mid-stir.

Just stops.

Spoon still hovering in the air. Sauce bubbling behind him. Frank Sinatra cut off mid-note.

He turns around slowly. Frowns. “I’m right here.”

“I know.”

“You just watched me kiss a tomato with more passion than most romance leads.”

“I know.”

He stares at you. Blinks once.

And then you see it—the panic. The way his whole body falters. Like he’s realizing something very, very important too late.

“Oh no,” he breathes. “Oh no.”

“Raf—”

He crosses the room in three fast steps, kneels beside you like you’re about to fade.

“You miss me? I’ve been serenading you with pasta and praise! I told the eggplant it was regal! What have I done?”

You reach for his cheek. “You’ve been everywhere but here.”

He leans into your touch like it hurts.

“I thought I was making things brighter,” he murmurs. “Turns out I was just making them louder.”

You smile, a little sad. “I don’t need louder. I just need you.”

He lets out the softest breath. Presses a kiss to your palm.

Then: “I’m going to burn dinner, aren’t I?”

You glance at the stove. “Probably.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. Then let me hold you while it burns.”

And when he pulls you into his arms on the kitchen floor—flour on his sleeve, sauce on his collar, guilt in his throat—you finally feel him come back.

Zayne

It’s 9:07 p.m.

The kitchen is spotless. The baby monitor is on. The dinner plates are in the dishwasher, stacked in perfect symmetry. Zayne’s at the counter writing something down—something for tomorrow. Groceries, probably. He doesn’t say what.

You’re still sitting at the table, legs pulled up under you. Watching him. Quiet.

He’s been like this for weeks now.

Present. Helpful. Perfect, really. Except you can’t feel him anymore.

You speak without looking at him.

“I miss you.”

His pen stops moving.

The silence hits hard. Sharper than you expect.

“…What?” he says. Not defensive—just confused. Like the words didn’t compute.

You repeat it. “I miss you.”

He turns around slowly, brows drawn. “I… don’t understand. I’m here.”

You offer a soft smile. “I know. But you feel far away.”

He frowns—deep. Like the idea physically bothers him.

“I make dinner,” he says. “I do the morning routine. I check in. I—” He stops.

You don’t interrupt.

Zayne runs a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth like he’s trying to hold in something sharp.

“I thought I was doing everything right.”

“You are,” you say. “You’re doing everything. You’re just not being with me.”

That lands harder than you meant it to.

He grips the counter edge. Shoulders tense. Not angry. Just overwhelmed.

Then, voice quieter:

“I didn’t know how to come back.”

You step up behind him. Wrap your arms around his waist. Feel the tension in his spine.

“You don’t have to fix everything to be enough,” you whisper. “You just have to let me hold you.”

He exhales, shaky. Eyes closed.

“…Okay.”

And for the first time in weeks—he lets go.

Sylus

He’s on the couch with his boots still on.

One arm stretched across the backrest, the other holding a glass of something dark, untouched. He hasn’t said much since dinner—just grunted in response to your “long day?” and slipped into his usual, quiet brooding comfort zone.

You’re curled up on the opposite end of the couch. Close enough to touch him if you reached. But you don’t.

Because lately, it feels like when you do, he flinches—emotionally, if not physically.

You glance at him now, the sharp angle of his jaw softened by the warm lamplight. He’s not tense. He’s not closed off.

He’s just… somewhere else.

You turn your head away before he can catch the way your face folds a little.

And you say it.

“I miss you.”

The words hang there. Casual and devastating.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Just blinks. Breathes in slow.

Then, softly:

“…I’m right here.”

You nod. “I know. But it still feels like I haven’t had you in a while.”

He sets his drink down.

Stares at the floor for a moment. Then runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to clear static out of his head.

“You think I’m pulling away.”

You stay quiet.

He glances over—just once—and when he sees your expression, something shifts in him. Less defensive. More wrecked.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, lower now. “I just… get stuck in my head sometimes. And I guess I thought being in the same room counted for something.”

“It does,” you say. “But it’s not the same as being close.”

He leans back, scrubs a hand down his face.

Then mumbles, half to himself:

“God. You’re gonna make me talk about feelings, aren’t you.”

You smile. Barely. “Not if you don’t want to.”

He looks at you again—longer this time. Like he’s really seeing you. And that’s what finally gets him to move.

He scoots closer. Wordless. Slow.

Then pulls you gently into his side, your head tucked against his shoulder. One hand over your thigh, grounding. Solid.

You feel him exhale.

“I do miss you too,” he says eventually. “I just didn’t realize it until you said it first.”

You nod.

You don’t need anything else right now.

Just this.

Just him.

[sweetevoltrap]

Sylus reclaiming Little Bomb as a teasing nickname...

[strawb3rryhachi]

“So so cute, Sy.” You gush, taking in the giant man in front of you, reduced to nothing but a panting mess, pink tinge taking over his cheeks, ears, down his neck. Silver hairs slicked to his forehead as his pure, unadulterated need spread through him like a fever.

Giving you a sloppy, fucked out smile as he watches your fingers slip in and out of yourself, sinking as far forward as his restraints would allow, the antique chair squealing as he pulls against them. The sounds of your praises blending harmoniously with the squelches of slick pooling between your thighs, spilling onto his desk.

Truly, he could’ve broken out of the pretty pink bows rather easily, and you knew that. They were mostly there for decoration, to match the pretty pink one wrapped around his painfully hard cock.

But no, he loved this game. Truly loved being expertly handled by the woman he loved, loved being the only person who could bring out this wild, depravity nestled deep within you.

He whimpered and whined, to hell with pride. He was leaking more and more precum by the second, sliding down, down down his shaft and staining the pink ribbon. He needed to touch or be touched.

“Being so good f’me,” You coo, hooking your shoe under his seat and yanking it forward, bringing him mere inches away from your dripping heat, your candied smell bouncing back at him, “Would you like a taste, my love?”

Your smile is feral, lethal for Sylus. He almost dives in face first, but he knows better by now. He won’t be rewarded for taking instead of waiting to be given. He looks up at you, crimson eyes sending a silent plea your way before he can even open his mouth. That breathtaking flush creeping its way down his chest.

“Please, Kitten.” He purrs, though it comes out more as a choked whine as he watches your fingers slip out of you, covered in that honeyed arousal he craved oh so badly. He watches as you separate your fingers, gooey strings of slick like delicious little spiderwebs between them.

“Open.” And oh god, before you can even finish the second syllable his perfect mouth is granting you access, tongue lolling out so sluttily, so ready to savor whatever your so kind as to bestow unto him. And he’s smiling, a gone, pussy drunken smile, a small trickle of spittle beading from the corner of his mouth. The sight of him alone is almost enough to make you cum.

Your fingers prod into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Watching as his eyes roll back into his head, an overwhelming euphoria taking over as he’s latching onto your pretty little digits. You almost don’t believe it when you see his cock twitch, angry red tip spurting out that yummy white liquid you had been hoping he’d fuck into you.

His mouth still wrapped snugly around your fingers as he came, suckling to get every last drop of your essence, shooting him deeper into his undoing. Cum dripping down his toned stomach, down your forearms and soaking into that perfect patch of silver on his pubic bone.

He’s begging and pleading, wholly unsure of just what it is he was asking for, chest heaving with every shaky breath. You can’t help the sick sense of satisfaction swirling deep within your pussy belly.

“Looks like we’ll have to start your punishment from the beginning, huh?”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

i think the world needs more sub sylus <3 okay gn i gotta go be a barista at 6am.

xoxo

Hachi

[syluses]

father figure

sylus x female reader

he takes you in, he feeds you, he gives you a home when the world around you can no longer make sense of the word- and yet you’re just as much of a grounding force in his life. when the frenzy hits, though, he can’t make heads or tails of anything; all he knows is that you’re a pretty, fleshy thing and he aches to sample it.

content smut/nsfw, daddy kink, dilf/guardian! sylus, so by a stretch it can be pseudocest, noncon, soft! sylus but turns into frenzied! sylus, yandere themes, piv, rough handling, loss of virginity, some angst because of guilt/disillusion, codependency, age gap (but both parties are 18+), biting, dark content, almost 10k words

sidenote i could only resist the catch-22 sylus agenda for so long. it’s not fully canon compliant but its heavily based around it. so yes sylus has his iconic mullet and he’s a lil baby crashout in this. also no this isnt even the sylus bday fic i had in mind but if i dont get that one out in time then this will be the substitute 😣 anways, i hope u enjoy my friends <3

You don’t remember much, growing up. Beyond him, at least.

The world goes to shit with the predators and your parents fade out of the equation- and you’re left alone for much of your youth until an ominous man comes along and takes you under his wing— but only reluctantly.

For a while afterward, you think he still grudges you for the day you, in one way or another, managed to fall under his custody, becoming a knot in his neat web of plans and purposes. Deep down, you got the feeling that he didn’t need you as much as you did him; despite his choosing to keep you around, it was likely more out of guilt than any genuine affection- but you’d decided that was okay.

He saved your life, pulled you from the fire before you could really feel its burn, and you’d be the last to make complaint for your circumstances.

There’d be no circumstances if not for him.

But he tenderizes. It turns to be an open thing, his fondness.

He takes you in when you’re fifteen. Since then- throughout the course of around six years, he’s become softer. Less ambiguous to you. There’s things he keeps under wraps and always will despite the harmless pestering on your end (like questions regarding his work, the silhouettes that trail you both constantly— and the curious glances thrown to the blood on his collar after he returns late in the night). But he’s not longer as obscure to you, his person.

Trust blooms in the parts of you where an impoverished lifestyle of scraping by carved out gaps. And you’re used to hiding- that’s not much different now- but instead of diving for shady alleyways, you find refuge in him.

He’s dangerous. That was established early on; since the first moment you met him, really, knelt before him in fear after grabbing his pant leg for help (an action he mistook for a foolish attempt at pickpocketing), that was obvious.

He’s threatening.

Never to you. Not now.

Sylus is a man of impressive decorum and somehow all the blood coating his hands doesn’t take away from his class— he extends those hands to you, callouses and all, and gives you a patient look as if he’s expecting you to take them.

At sixteen you start calling him dad (more of an accident than anything else- it’s not a conscious thing that compels you to view him as something paternal).

He doesn’t object to it.

Things fall into place in weird ways.

When all the pieces settle, you find yourself looking at a semblance of a home— a safe place that the self-proclaimed beast curated with his own paws through painstaking efforts. (Whether you were fully cognizant of them or not didn’t matter: he tried his damnedest to be what you needed, and could only hope it was enough.)

The two of you are always on the move. He barges into your room panting at night and tells you to hurry and pack a bag, or just outright scoops you up in his arms and tucks you into the car’s backseat seconds before you hear the tires revving off. Your surroundings are perpetually changing around you and yet he remains the same; a citadel, a rock in your life.

Sylus provides an air of safety. Despite it all, the abrupt ‘field trips’ (at least, that’s what he called them when you were a bit younger) taken to ward enemies off your location, the bullets that fling by your periphery on furtive nights out and the red threads that coil behind him like talons- destroying anything before it can so much as harm a hair on your pretty head- you feel safe with him.

Predator or not- he’s good to you, a lighthouse fixed firmly amidst rolling smog and cyclones.

You can’t count a time he’s lost control or been unprepared for a frenzy, and he’s taken the proper precautions to keep you from him whenever he suspects one is coming on. The broken activator just solidifies his vigilance. And he’s instructed you plenty on what to do if he does lose it, God forbid, albeit your agreement to it was utterly uneasy.

He figures he’ll spare you the little horror show, he’d joked just to smooth out the worried crinkle in your brow.

Yet- Figures he’ll spare you your life, is what he doesn’t say, despite it being a shared thought between you both.

He teaches you how to wield a gun early on.

You’d told him you didn’t wanna use it, but something as trivial as guilt had no place in Linkon as it collapsed into decadence and carnal ruin. And something like sympathy, he’d also added, was stupid. An invitation to get yourself killed.

(Silly, that. Silly and hypocritical of the man who takes pity on runts.)

Conversation is kept at a minimum at first, and clipped, but he sprinkles in tips and tricks at self preservation— life hacks in the most literal sense— and he keeps an eye on you. Watching always. He makes sure you’re holding up well and even lets you hold down the fort while he’s gone doing God knows what. It feels like a privilege when he entrusts things to you, no matter how seemingly small.

Sylus is special to you. You love him as a teacher, a protector, a warm chest to snuggle up to on the sofa when you’re restless and can’t sleep but you know he’s downstairs with a cushion waiting—

You love him as a father, too.

Not everything about him is clear to you, though... You learn many things but one you have more difficulty understanding is the way he perceives you.

You don’t know if he loves you as a daughter, or a welcome nuisance, or a stray (because he has a penchant to root for the underdog). At first, you questioned if he even loved you at all.

But you’re older now,… and you see it, the heart he wears on his sleeve to bleed for you. He cares for you. And he’s there for you.

And when he asks you to leave with him- less of a hurried demand now and more of a gentle, imploring breath amidst chittering sounds of crickets and night bugs as he stands as a single shadow against your bed frame—

You take his hand.

✦

Boxes piled in every other corner, the building feels less like a home and more like a warehouse- a very tiny, cozy warehouse, with each of your scents intertwining in the unassuming spaces where you meet.

It’s no feat of architecture- just a small apartment nestled in the innards of the southern district, and it certainly isn’t a product of exorbitant spending (the place is deceptively… humble, for what Sylus can afford), but for what it is, you like it.

You’ve dwelled at several different addresses before, and you expect this arrangement will be more of the same. You stopped mourning over the loss of houses that could’ve been homes some time ago; you bounce between streets and domains like rabbits. However, there’s a strange comfort that builds in your chest as weeks pass and, for this reason or that, your guardian shows no signs of jilting the flat.

One day, he calls you to the living room after you’ve showered, and he sits you down.

You lie in a makeshift cage between his long legs as they hang over the couch, one hand smoothing over your damp hair while the other brushes it through.

He’s never in much of a hurry to speak, so when you reach for the TV remote to fill the silence, and he stops you- you concede to the quiet, knowing whatever he’ll say to break it will be worth some thought.

Still, he seems more contemplative than usual. It warrants pause on your end.

Internally, you consider your belongings- the deliberate choice you made to keep most of them boxed- and find relief in the fact that you’ll have less to pack if Sylus were to inform you right now of another move.

It’s a little sad, but it’s just the way things are. You won’t cry over the hand that you were dealt. If nothing else, you’re just thankful, what with the squeeze this city of sin has on its people, that somewhere along the way, Sylus came to loosen you from it.

You owe him. But he never names his price.

Long, rough fingertips meticulously weaving through your hair, gentle despite the callouses as he twists it into braids, you fall into the belief that he won’t.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but you can’t find much in you to debunk it save for the tiny, deep-rooted fear that one day you’d wake up, and- just like your parents on the day of outbreak- he’d be gone. There was plenty of doubts in your head, but most if not all were born from an old trauma, and Sylus seemed… content, weirdly enough, at your side.

It becomes an easier and easier thing to believe that’s where he’ll remain.

“Sweetie,” he eventually says, “I wanted to… discuss something, with you.”

You perk under his hands, spine straightening. You give him a sidelong glance over your shoulder and find his eyes, a sharp red, surprisingly mellow as they flit across the bridge of your nose, reading your expression carefully.

“What’s wrong?”

That (the instinctive response to believe something’s gone amiss) almost brings a wry smile to his lips, but he wets them a moment later and opens them to speak. “Nothing. Not this time,” he explains smoothly. “You… You’re used to moving around, the both of us are. I’m sure it’s been… tiring, at the best of times.”

“Well,” you start as a reply, but find your speech cropped short because you’ve no real way to deny that: it was exhausting. Of course it was. But wherever he went, you’d follow. That’s just how it’s always been.

Besides, if not fixed firmly at his side- you’d be choosing the hell that is overrun, lawless Linkon; to be tossed back into its maw for the predators or, if you’re more fortunate, a not as brutal death by starvation.

Noting your silence- your agreement- Sylus continues.

He ties off the end of the tuft with a colorful band and moves to work on the other, surprisingly deft. He’s only done your hair a million times- but still, his odd expertise in it was as surprising as it was endearing. The fact that you’re twenty-one now doesn’t change this common arrangement- or the mutual fondness the two of you have for it. You like when Sylus dries or does your hair, and evidently, he does too, for whatever reason.

Maybe it’s just therapeutic for him to feel something soft in his hands. He’s better acquainted with the opposite.

“So what if we were to stay?”

The words take a moment to click.

Because you don’t stay anywhere. You don’t stay, you just run and drive and hide. Live life perpetually on the down low. On the run.

Sylus does not settle.

Still, his voice, thoughtful and velvety, rumbles behind you in a continuous, comforting sound and forces you to take what he’s saying seriously.

“This place- you don’t dislike it, do you? It’s nice. Nothing gaudy or impressive. But it’s… homey,” he muses aloud. “Off the books. You’re safe here. Safer than what the other addresses had to offer, at least.”

You ponder it for all of five seconds before answering. And to be fair it’s not actually hard to; an inner part of you assumed you’d be on the move for all your life, but you’re weirdly pleased at the idea of… not being on the move for all your life.

Some anchorage sounds nice.

You tuck your head to your chest. “I… I think I would like that.”

He perks a bit. You feel it in his hands when they pause, done with their task, and one shifts to rest on your crown.

His knees, flanking either side of you, close in. Without thinking, you latch onto one’s calf and lean into it as you grab the remote. This time he lets you.

“Yeah?” He goes, a little breathless. “Are you sure? You realize it’d be a little more… permanent.”

“Okay.”

Sylus looses a sigh somewhere behind you.

“What I’m getting at is that you’re no longer a little squirt in desperate need of me,” he clarifies in a more pointed tone, and you resist arguing that- you have no time to, really, “so if you want to leave, you can feel free to. Don’t think you’re being shackled here by me.”

For as genuine as his words sound, you quickly cotton onto the expectancy that undercoats them- the mite of something that almost makes you believe he’s waiting for affirmation on your end. A rare thing. Usually it’s the other way around.

It pulls a huff from you, though. Peels of laughter rattle from the screen in front of you (he managed to unpack your TV, but as it stands, most of the house is still pretty bare) but you ignore your favorite show for the moment to turn and frown at him.

You grab his knee while you do, saying, “Of course I don’t think that. If anything, I feel like I’m holding you back.”

Scarlet eyes blink and widen, but just slightly. White hair falls over his brow (his locks loosening from gel after a long day) when he gives his head a tilt. After a beat, he laughs at you, a deep, rumbling sound- and pats your head directly after to fix the flustered knot in your brow.

“Well, I guess we’re both wrong then, hm?

He stoops forward to kiss your cheekbone- a chaste, quick thing- and then he gets up with a grunt to head for the hall.

You watch him with a strange flutter in your chest (one that you label affection; not a wrong guess but it also fails to fully encompass just what he means to you) and stare at the wall even as he disappears behind it.

But he calls over his broad shoulder to you, “Don’t sit too close to the screen, by the way. Someone tends to get headaches when watching cartoons.”

Crossing your arms with a pout, you lean your back into the seat of the couch and splay your legs out on the fluffy rug. You’re glad for that being unpacked, but quickly find yourself planning for the following days and all you’ll have to take out and assemble- which admittedly wasn’t much, but it was still enough to trigger your lazy streak.

Sometimes you just want to lounge around all day and do nothing: a fantasy that feels more possible after your guardian’s suggestion.

You holler back, “Oh, just go to sleep, old man.” Distantly, a door opens, but it doesn’t close.

He’ll be out later.

✦

He doesn’t come out later, contrary to your belief, but his open door does make a little more sense to you when it’s deep into the night and you emerge from your own room, scared, and traipse down the hall.

The remnants of a nightmare that felt too-real grip you. Five fingers on, they don’t let go.

But Sylus- the quasi foreboding man who took you in- knows how to pull you from a pinch.

You seek his warmth as the swath of wooden tiles cooling the balls of your feet blends into carpet- that of his bedroom- navigating in total darkness as you enter.

“Sylus-?” You can’t even get the word out before he startles upright and you hear the clink of something steely and dangerous—

“I-It’s me, daddy!” You assuage quickly, voice a frail, shaken sound that’s made even smaller by the dregs of a bad dream that still hangs fresh over your mind.

Even as the images peter out— claws wrapping around your throat, a dumpster rattling as you and other ragamuffins brawl over veritable trash as food, the roar of a predator as it holds you down, saliva dribbling into your ear— the emotions are harder to shake.

You feel dizzy and a little out of place as he lets out a deep sigh of relief, flicking on the lamplight, and blinks heavily at you.

The fingers that have dipped beneath the mattress retract and return to his lap. You observe it with a relaxing of your shoulders.

Some of the tension fades from him too, but not all of it.

He asks, concern entangled with gravely bits of exhaustion, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

You say nothing, your own voice failing you as you mentally struggle to not only find your thoughts but string them together in a coherent way.

Everything around you was blurry. Felt unstable. A cold, clammy sweat licks up your palms and forehead. The ground beneath you grows a mouth and threatens to swallow you whole- the shadows in the corner ominous and great, watching.

Of course, it was only a nightmare, an unpleasant dream that you’d laugh about and forget easily enough come morning. But right now, it’s not. It’s vivid and horrifying and amalgamating into the atoms of reality to create a special kind of paranoia. It won’t let you sleep tonight.

…Not unless something’s there to hold you, at least.

Sylus’s own voice is groggy, a bit confused. Almost unthinkingly, though, he extends a hand to welcome you.

“C’mere,” he lifts the blanket and you’re instantly drawn to the empty space beside him.

You assume it with eagerness and all but barrel into his chest, punching out a grunt from him before he chuckles faintly, reaching over to pull on the thin, beaded chain. Darkness paints across your surroundings but a small highlight swims in cherry-red eyes as they soften at you.

Strong, lean arms wrap around you, helping you burrow into him without objection.

“Was it a nightmare?” He murmurs just above a whisper, voice warm but rough as the fluffy comforters, the same ones he tucks you both under, hug him back in. “Haven’t had one of those in a while, hm?”

He feels you jerkily nod under the dip of his chin and makes a sighing response. Callous finger pads close around your back and rub little circles there meant to soothe. “S’okay, kitten. It’s over now,” he breathes, languidly pecking your temple with open lips, smearing away the part of your fringe that’s been pasted there by a cold sweat.

He has this weird habit of taking you under his wing despite his serrated edges and the natural intensity of his stone face; right now, you curl up closer to his breast, finding a tenderness he perhaps only reserves for you, and he exhales overhead.

Fears are fast to flee, wrapped up by him. As moments pass, and your erratic heart rate resumes a more normal pace, you sound your gratitude in a low murmur. Vaguely, you wonder if you’d also stirred Sylus from a nightmare of his own upon stumbling into his room, because his own pulse- typically extremely slow- undulates in his sternum.

It thumps against your ear, creating a cadence almost considered fast. A touch uneven and a lot loud.

“…Thank you, daddy,” you mouth against him, nuzzling into his pajamas- a thin, linen shirt that oozes a domesticity you’re hard-pressed to come by.

Beneath your ear— a skip.

“For… for always being there for me.”

It sounds a little sappy, but in the moment, none of that phases you. Evidently- with a low, contented hum emanating from deep within his chest- it doesn’t phase Sylus, either.

You wonder if it’s your imagination or a real, bonafide smile that curves against your head.

“Well, that’s where I belong, isn’t it? At your side,” he murmurs, and after a beat you feel his lips press a kiss to your crown, mild but lingering. “And you belong at mine, if you want it. I’ll always be here for you, sweetie,” he promises, “no matter what.”

Finally, you let your eyes flutter shut.

✦

Weeks pass. They do so pleasantly; slowly, but not in a bad way.

The quiet- mainly the lack of wandering from point A to B all for the sake of anonymity- is a welcome reprieve. Some doubts linger surrounding the agreement you and Sylus came to, but it becomes a more solid idea in your head as days pass without interuption:

This can be home.

So you start acting like it.

When noon hits, you don’t go with Wolfe, Sylus’s most trusted contact, for the usual training session when he swings by- bidding him farewell with a small wave- but instead stay back to work on the house.

Noon comes and goes. The sky turns dusky and your belly howls for food but you pay none of it any mind, too engrossed to care.

Because this is exciting.

You decorate all throughout the day, unwrap furniture from cardboard and feel anticipation swell inside you. You sing and twirl.

Before Sylus returns, you buzz with excitement while picturing his face upon walking in- not to a barren space but to a cozy one- and the rare show of his surprise. It’ll probably be nothing beyond a flare of his eyes or a soft sound of acknowledgement, but you pine for it all the same.

You’d like to make him happy. To make him feel more comfortable, at home. Especially after a long day spent weaseling throughout the blind spots of the city. He’s only allowed so much time to kick off his shoes and relax, and you want to highlight those moments for him.

It’s the least you can do, you think with a small smile, stepping down from a stool to appraise a photo you just hung (one with his hand around your waist, pulling you to his side— a would-be perfect photo if not for the crow that blurs in the corner of the lens).

Focused, you stick your tongue out and square your fingers, closing one eye because that’ll definitely help you make a better judgement on whether or not the frame is straight enough—

It slants sharply when the front door opens and slams.

You jolt, ripped from your small trance as you spin your head towards the entryway, only an iota prepared to run for the hallway and bird dive into the closet- that’s if you even make it in time. Bullets will always be faster than your little legs and if you’re correct in your belief that it’s those shady men who hate Sylus, come to retaliate against him, then there’s no way they’ll deliberate and give you a chance to escape—

Sock-clad feet halt on the floor. The stop in momentum hurls your head inches beyond your axis of balance, but the figure that freezes in the threshold, familiar, tall but hunched over, somehow seems more surprised.

Not at the new touch-ups on the walls and the neat, embellished rooms- no, but at you.

Trudging into the apartment, he looks worse for wear and you take the sight of him in with a different, growing kind of alarm.

Your shoulders ease up, just slightly. It’s not an intruder, a pack of big, unscrupulous men barging in to avenge some grievance related to the assassin who took you in- which is relieving, but the concern is tight in your brow all the same.

When he speaks, his voice is ragged. Half man half animal.

“Sweetie- what are you-?” He cuts himself short to make a sound of displeasure that comes from deep within his throat. Raw, brutal.

“You shouldn’t be here-!” You give a little flinch in response to the ferocity in his tone, phlegm catching in his trachea before he looks down, shakes his head with a hard blink, and stomps into the bulwarks of the apartment.

“Dad, you-?”

Ignoring your startle (perhaps blind to it; you think his mind is on other, more inward matters as something wild glints in his eye- paired with a conflict that worsens with each heaving breath), Sylus grabs your wrist, and he does it tightly.

“There’s no time- I need you to hurry. Help me with my suppressants- now!”

Something clicks in you, then, a distant memory lighting itself from a foggy space of remembrance.

“And kitten, listen to me. If I ever… lose control,” he starts, words a gentle, almost resigned mumble against a backdrop of city sirens and a snarling engine as the car veers into a more secluded road. You stare at his profile with a flicker of unease. But he remains composed, saying as if it’s a topic as simple as the weather, “I need you to handle me,” he glances at you, gaze steady, a brilliant, solid red, even as your mouth opens to bluster out a denial of that possibility.

“But- your suppressants- We can use them—“

“Maybe,” he turns to look out the windshield, at the road ahead. Dust and debris scrape in the wind. Even for the southern district, the place was ratty, but this is where the deal was to be had, and Sylus needed those vials before morning. “But things don’t always go as planned, you know that, sweetie. So… If something ever fails, or I become immune to the dosages— I taught you how to shoot.”

“I- I wouldn’t shoot—!“

He snaps his head over and barks, fingers whiting around the wheel. “You would! You would and you will.”

Startled, your vision blurring despite the hand you close firmly over your breast- as if balling your emotions in your palm, holding them at bay- you swallow. Scarlet eyes ripple, irises dancing around a black orb as it shrinks and becomes frantic. Unease flutters in your chest as his cold instructions turn over in your mind- but for all his hammering of them into you- you don’t bite the hand that feeds. It’s just not in your nature.

You don’t even bite the hand if it asks you to.

Begs.

Noting your shock, the stunned expression that barely masks a confused kind of hurt, your guardian blinks. Sighs and looks away.

Exhaust blows out from the back of the vehicle; you catch it in dark tails from the rear view mirror, in whiffs as the air around you becomes sour and noxious.

“I taught you to shoot,” he says again after a beat. Softer, this time. “When it gets to the point where it really matters,… don’t let your daddy down, okay? Please, sweetie. Just… agree on this one thing.”

For once in a handful of years, not considered easy by any means- but enjoyable at his side- you stare at the man who took you in and find him cruel.

You dip your chin, more out of hurt than anything else, highly uncertain as dread contricts your lungs, and nod.

It does what it was meant for: It placates him. You think it even convinces him.

He’s putting all his faith in it, in that wordless assent you’d given him years ago, for the sake of the present.

Though, Sylus still thinks it’s manageable. That there’s still a shot that this frenzy- triggered by an enhancer after a gloved hand squeezed glass to the point of bleeding, vindictive and bent on getting the last laugh- can be resolved. So you hurry to lay him on the couch as his breathing picks up, scuttling towards his room before coming back with arms full of a briefcase.

You crash to the rug and prop the case on the coffee table, fishing out a syringe before sidling up to him and taking his arm.

With some resistance- and a grunt that sounds more wolfish than man- he lets you, and you line up the needle with his arm. You say a curse under your breath when tears smear across your lids and make fuzzy the room around you.

“Hurry,” he rasps.

Shakily, you dig at the crook of his arm with your thumb to plump up the vein before- with little coordination- you feed the needle in with a sharp breath.

It mingles with Sylus’s as he makes an uncomfortable noise, the glittery fluid disemboguing into his bloodstream.

Split seconds feels like eons.

Time moves slow as molasses and you chew on your lip until something like metal sours your tongue.

Between fingers that tremble wildly just to keep it inside him, steadily injecting him with the suppressant, and a heart that pounds with uncertainty in your ears— given no assurance whatsoever that you’re not too late to pacify him— you don’t realize all the gawking on his part.

The ardency in his gaze, fleetingly tender, as it remains fixed to you. Some unspoken battle happening behind it.

…The darker thing, with a name you can’t assign, is winning out.

He feels it, too; conscious thought lending itself to his baser person— instincts, ugly and primal and overwhelming— all against his will.

“You were supposed to be with Wolfe,” He forces out with great difficulty, sweat beading his temple. He’s hot to the touch, skin like a kiln, baking your fingertips as they hover over him.

Light as feathers, you still feel the burn.

“I would’ve never came.”

Thickly, you swallow, rubbing his forearm soothingly even as the veins there bulge and glow, putting a fright in you that you do well to ignore.

He needs you right now. He needs you and you won’t fail him.

“Shh, shh,” you hush, folding your upper half over the sofa to plant your head against his shoulder.

One hand, between your bodies, gradually plies him with the suppressant; the other slips to the nape of his neck and intwines with his mullet, tugging softly.

He lets out a soft sound at that, temporarily appeased.

“It’s okay, daddy. It’s okay.”

You need it to be true.

For what it’s worth, he does seem just a touch comforted by that.

It’s not lasting.

He’s dangerous, and he knows. He’s losing out to the predator instinct, and he knows and he’s terrified but he remains rigid. Has to.

“I want you to inject all of it into my veins,” a sonorous voice rings at your ear, dry, open lips moving against your head as he smushes a kiss there. You think it’s more subconscious a move than anything as the cognizant trace in him fades out, albeit you still appreciate it.

A large hand, hanging off the couch- shaking not because it’s weak but because it’s trying its best to be- shifts to rest over your back.

He continues, “And then I want you to leave me. If we’re lucky, I’ll pass out and ride it through that way…”

Clenching your jaw, you nod against his neck, under his chin, and bite down on a whimper.

“You’ll be okay, daddy. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be all better. The suppressants w-will make you sleepy, and—“

Something surges in him, then, a growl cutting through your eardrums as you flinch back and he- before the second little vial even reaches the halfway tick- knocks it from your hands.

It collides with the coffee table and shatters.

The rug- the fluffy one you’d happily picked out with him some months back- darkens with a splotch you can’t easily scrub out.

Like an animal in a cage he’s revolted. You’re not naive enough to not see the movement for what it is; no matter how watered down, it’s still a version of it: a beast lunging.

Whatever’s left of his conscience is just barely barring that monster off, but as you fall back on your ass and gape at him, you realize with horror he will not turn out as the victor.

Fear brews in your belly. Butterflies swarm the pit of it, leaving nausea in the wake of their wings as they make quick work of your bravery- or the pretense you held of it.

A drop of blood pricks from the crook of his arm, the syringe made useless as it lay broken on the carpet: you watch it with shock, numbness almost, before looking up to him.

He forces himself to go recumbent, five fingers splayed over his face. The gaps in them, though, reveal grimacing, pearly teeth.

Canines bared no different than a hungry predator, defensive and bold.

Unlike you, very real in their display.

For a number of seconds, you do not breathe. Eyes wide and scared.

“Go,” he croaks out after a moment.

It takes longer than it should to register.

When it does, you gasp as if stirred from a bad dream. It’s precious- the sign he gives that he’s still in control- and you don’t take it for granted. You rise to wobbling knees, frenetically glancing between the dazzling shards and his heaving chest.

You extend a cautionary, worried hand, something in you utterly wrecked at the sight of him- your savior, your shield, your father figure- crumpled in on himself.

“Daddy—“

“Go!”

Silence strobes across the living room, but just for a second. It bites into you where it settles.

Unthinkingly, you turn. His words and their grating tone cut better than any knife ever could. Tears clinging to your lashes, you steel your legs (because they’re gelatinous beneath you), whip around, and start for the front door.

You don’t know where you’ll go apart from Sylus tonight, but that’s all to be figured out later after you calm your nerves down a bit and convince yourself it’ll all be fine—

The couch groans atop its wooden frame.

Suddenly, a hand snatches around your wrist, scorching hot, and when you swirl around, his head is bowed.

A whit of hope strings you along—

“D-Dad?” You breathe, “Are you okay now?”

Scarlet eyes peer up from a silvery curtain of hair, aflame, near glowing, and you let out a gasp.

—And drops you.

“I thought you wanted to help little old me? So…” he muses darkly, “where are you going?”

The reality of your situation takes a second to catch up to you.

Something that can accurately be called fear clamps in your chest— not for what he could be but for what he is now. Some change has happened in him, some sickness taken root, and until it passes, you’ll be victim to the beast that wears your savior’s face.

Stunned, you listen. “Has your father ever left you hanging? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same?”

“Sylus-“

He tuts, a belittling sound. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. C’mere, kitten, sit.” Long fingers entwine around your wrist and you’re reminded of wolf paws trampling over twigs in forests. It’s not unbearably tight a grip, not yet, at least, but he’s certainly applying more pressure than what he generally does.

You wet your dry lip, dread wringing you from the inside out. You feel oddly parched.

“But Sylus- you’re not-“

“Sit,” he suddenly growls, something undeniably dark glittering in his eye.

You’re without opportunity to argue or even try to reason with him, because he yanks you into his lap and loops his arms around your middle.

You liken yourself to a bird in a cage. His limbs your bars and your soft sounds of fear like twittering.

Using the last of your rational thought- your brain losing ground to fight or flight instinct- you try to think back to his instructions (funereal as they were), but find yourself creating other options. Even if you did want to shoot Sylus like he’d made you promise all those years ago, it’s not like you’ve got a gun lying around for it… No, the one he gave you (the one you keep as a token of him, like a locket) is sandwiched between your mattress and its framework.

A-And that’s where it’ll stay. No matter what.

Because you don’t bite the hand that feeds. You don’t bite the hand that feeds even after it pleads to be.

You decide, right then, that it’s better to play dead.

Sat perfectly still in his lap, your plan succeeds for all of half a minute before a hitch appears. To begin with, it was one born out of desperation, with low expectancy- but damn it all you still flinch when you become aware of his teeth and your proximity to them.

Fangs brush against your throat, uncomfortably sharp. It raises alarm in you, but it’s quickly lost in the other warning bells clanging in your skull.

You shiver. To your horror, Sylus chuckles.

“Are you scared I’ll hurt you?” He murmurs, breath searing your neck where it fans against it. It’s labored and fast; the depravity amplified against your earlobe.

Somewhere in you, you find the courage to answer. “A- A little,” you feebly admit. “I couldn’t get all the suppresants in.”

Sylus hums, low and satisfied, but you don’t quite miss the undercurrent of decadence in it- as much as you might want to.

“Good,” he quips. “Frenzies feel so much better without the pushback. You shouldn’t have injected any in me in the first place.”

“But you said-“

“It’s in my DNA to want to bite. It’s a little cruel to keep me from that… don’t you think?”

A debate happens within you, short-lived but tumultuous. You deliberate on answering because really, how can you? What is there to say that can temper him when he’s like this? A predator in the flesh.

And the thing about predators is that, somewhere in the equation, there must be prey—

But no. No- you refuse to believe he’ll succumb to that animalism, not when he’s more or less like blood to you. Your trust for him runs as thick as it, anyway. Blood is thicker than water, and poison, too- so the toxic lilt in his voice means nothing. Nothing at all.

You swallow, unable to offer any real reply. “I- I-“

“No,” he snips, a palm drifting lower. Positively impatient. Ever the obliging, albeit sometimes brusque man, the Sylus you know is nowhere to be found.

“Tell daddy what you really think of him. Think he’s a monster, don’t you?”

Finally, he nips at your neck, cutting himself loose from the self restraint he stubbornly moored himself to, groaning at the softness. Seamlessly, he suckles a hickey into your throat and you mewl.

The single thread of whatever the hell it is that’s keeping him at bay- his buried conscience, perhaps- snaps.

He makes a hot, ferocious sound, pawing at your breast now, drawing a startled yelp from you that his gums throb at. “Should he act accordingly? Hm? Use your words, kitten.”

Words? No. No, you think actions would suit you better- he’s not in his right mind right now and you need to leave like he’d ordered before your image of him, the one you’d put on a precious pedestal, collapses.

Daringly, you get up to try and bolt out again, mind single as your eyes dart to the front door.

If you can just leave the apartment, maybe you can lose him in the weaving, shady paths that are labyrinthine Linkon. Surely, he’ll find someone else, someone deserving (culpable men are not hard to come by here), and make them his glorified plaything instead.

By the time the sun rises, he’ll have woken from this awful, twisted trance—

He lets out a roar, angrily snatching you back onto the couch.

This time, though, there’s no semblance of freedom as he pins you under him, hovering close enough to bump his long nose against yours as he grips your hips tight enough to bruise.

“Nawh, you wound me, sweetie… And here I thought…” he rasps, ruby eyes glossing as the lid droops, blatantly ogling your jostling breast, “You had daddy’s better interest in mind.”

That’s unclear. But yours? Your better interest?

There it is again- blitzing across your frazzled conscience, stark against the dreadful haze: Play dead.

You do.

The blow will come, that’s definite. But if you play your cards right, maybe, a small hope in the back of your head says, you can lessen it.

You go limp beneath him and his hands. Even as they grope your tits through your shirt before he quickly foregoes that charade in favor of ripping open the collar, you remain still. You clamp your eyes shut and bite down on a pathetic sound.

Each and every one of your intentions evade riling him up, and yet your mere presence, pliant but shivering beneath him, does a good enough job at that on its own.

Still, as his energy builds into a devastating force, you’re quietly thankful for the amount you did manage to get in with the syringe. Likely, you realize with a heavy swoop of your heart, the determining factor in your life.

H-How much was it again-? Two vials? Or a vial and a half-?

Briefly, you glance over to the table where the case lay, open but half empty, and contemplate something stupid before the man- beast- above you laughs. Asserts himself in your face.

He’s all you see when he says, “I guess you don’t have your better interest in mind, either. Hm, kitten?”

And you’re all he smells, feels, knows, as he ruts his clothed cock against your thigh and you feel the swollen bulge. You shiver again. He’s really, really hard and is he actually planning to fuck you with that-?

You?

The pleasured, but not close to satisfied, grunt he makes says yes. Yes, absolutely he’s going to fuck you.

Rip off your panties after uncivilly pulling off your shorts and stuff his flushed length inside with a—

—“Fuck, kitty!”

He’s met with resistance.

And you forget your plan completely, terror taking over entirely as you begin to wriggle and plead for him to hold off, to reconsider— you’re a virgin and he’s mean and given your relationship, you two were never supposed to end up parallel to one another on the couch, desire brewing between your naked bodies. Well, you’re naked- or growingly; but Sylus isn’t.

Scraps of leather cling to sturdy, lean muscle, but he’s broiling in them still, skin licked with sweat. Evidently, heat has fried his neurons- his memory of himself- too.

“Please, daddy, I- I’ll—“

Oh, break. You’ll one hundred percent break but you keep from saying it aloud because you suspect it’ll warm his blood all the more. A correct guess, but it’s a little late for taking back what you did say. Sylus cottons onto it and groans.

“Don’t do this, Sylus,” you try to remind him of who he really is, even if your voice is small and untrustworthy. “Y-You don’t have to. J-Just remember who you are- who I am!”

His precious girl.

Once, he’d even said, his treasure.

Your heart stings.

Taking out the engorged, weeping head of him and rubbing it at your mostly-dry entrance (in hopes to prime it after failing to push his way inside), he’s hardly lucid as you babble.

Cute… But unimportant, he decides.

…Yet, he does somehow find it in him to look up, and you do find a trace of… something in him, human-like and guilty, when he does. It’s quicksilver. Gone when you blink.

Your pussy lips try to spit him out but it just works him up further.

The darkness in his gaze returns in tenfold.

He manages a scoff. “Oh, c’mon. Of course I remember~ You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?” He hums meanly, suddenly immune to the wide, kicked look you send him. It’s always done wonders on him before, but you’re met with failure.

“So how come you can’t take his cock? I know you could, if you just tried a little harder. Relaaax. Ease up. From now on, someone’s gonna have to be the calm one between us when I get into my frenzies. You can be that, right?” That sentence instills dismay in you for many reasons, but you have no time to think on them.

He husks, “Now, go on. Help guide me in.”

You don’t reach a hand down between you two like perhaps he wanted, but you do hear a faint squelch right then as he cants his hips forward an inch, and it does make you gasp. Despite yourself, you slick up for him- for God knows what reason, maybe just as self preservation or some deeper, pitiful attempt to please him- and it becomes obvious.

Sylus notes it with a shaky breath that blends with his other labored, ragged ones, and a grin that’d better suit a bastard.

He delves inside, by a small miracle, but you can’t stop from crying when he reaches halfway in and blood rings around the thick base of him. Inwardly, you try to separate the sin from the face, telling yourself between strained breaths that he’s not in control, that this frightening, terribly unfamiliar side isn’t the real him.

You whimper more when you realize you’ll be squinting at him for months to come, losing sleep over the question of, was he helpless to the beast, or hiding it in him all along? Was he a mere victim to the predator instinct forced onto him? or willfully steering it—?

No. No. Because he’s like blood to you. And blood is thicker than water, and poison, and the niggling doubts you feed on until gluttony.

“I-It hurts,” you try when he bottoms out with a resounding groan. Shameless and frenetic. He stoops over you after pressing your legs all the way back to the couch, rough as he purrs in your ear.

“You say it hurts, but your pussy just squeezes tighter around me… So you’d understand why I’d be getting mixed reactions, don’t you?”

He whispers. For the second documented time, you find Sylus cruel. Very, painfully, cruel.

It’s hard to argue with him, even when you know he’s wrong. You think if he was more awake right now, more him, then he’d side with you as well. And yet he’s completely untrustworthy right now, morally black and mean. So, so mean.

That devilish smirk on his blissed-out face might bring on an even sharper sting than his cock as it spears inside you and starts a brutal pace.

Well.

Not quite.

Your eyes flare. So do his, want and pure, unadulterated need zipping between your bodies as his perspiration dribbles onto your collar. He hangs his head into your shoulder and you feel droplets slip between the valley of your breast.

It doesn’t take long for the heat to feel sweltering; sweat running like the Nile between you both.

“Silly little bird. You just- hah, fuck- have no clue, do you? How tempting you are?”

You ignore it all because it’s better to. Maybe ignorance won’t shield you from his hands as they clench around the fat of your hips, but it’ll certainly help you later on down the line when you want to forget and are thankful for the kickstart.

You try to focus on the ceiling, but even that blurs behind him when he leans back some just to stare, moaning at what he sees.

Even beasts can appreciate beauty, he distantly observes.

Those eyes on you, not gentle per usual (albeit sometimes tinged with a harmless tease) but ravenous and sharp- are even harder to ignore. You can’t stop your hands from lifting to push at his face to try to block him out.

All for naught, of course.

With a choked moan, he chuckles. “Ugh- look at you. These little hands keep swatting at me, even though your face is full of pleasure. Fuck,” he curses, his face handsome but a bit unnerving as it dons a more perverted look, eyes half closed, “You feel…. good. I always knew you would.”

No. No. Shut up, shut up—

“You wanna be good for your daddy?”

Yes.

Not like this.

He gathers your unruly hands and cuffs them above your head. “Then lie down and take it. If it hurts as much as you pretend, I’m sure it’ll… feel better that way, if you give in.”

There’s a very small window in between Sylus hovering over you and then Sylus dipping down to bite the fleshy bit between your neck and shoulder: in it, there’s no time to prepare.

Ice tingles in your veins, shock stealing your breath.

It’s the pain, first dull and uncomfortable as his teeth sink in, but then quickly all-consuming, that helps you find the scream.

The scream— a small, broken cry.

It doesn’t make much noise, not enough for any possible neighbors to hear- in Linkon, none would even bat an eye to it, anyway- but he covers your mouth regardless. He eats up the pathetic sounds with rough lips and hungry groans.

You don’t know how much blood he’s drawn, but there’s a little on his teeth that he makes you taste.

“Ngh, you’re delicious,” he heaves after a break. Saliva connects you both in a fleeting strand. “I’m sure your pussy tastes even better- but kitten, I really don’t have the time right now to try it. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” He chuckles in your ear. You know he does not care for the answer. It’s deep and mean-spirited.

This side of Sylus- this rotten caricature of the man who took you in— All the hurt for it turns to loathing.

“For later,” he decides after a beat, resolved as he ignores your sneer.

You’re used to ambition on his end, but not greed: right now, his goals gravitate more towards selfishness than anything else.

All of it nears its end and quickly.

As he ruts into you, though, frenzied thrusts reaching their mark with loud grunts, it feels more gradual for you… Painfully slow. Seconds might as well be minutes, or hours, even.

It’s feral, the glint in his eye as he reshapes your walls to fit the outline of his massive cock, your virgin pussy spasming around him. Responsively, he gives a twitch, and you swear you feel his balls jump when he pauses- just for a moment- and they rest above your ass.

Sylus looks down at you, breathless and wild, and you shake at the lack of familiarity in his gaze. Ruby red eyes survey you almost frantically, with one intent only- to fuck you within an inch of your life, undoubtedly. Full of need. It’s a bottomless gaze. You think right then that you can’t give him what he wants because he’ll always be left wanting for more.

You’re not an ocean— if he reaches his hand in, he’ll inevitably reach the bottom but that clearly doesn’t stop him from trying to pull everything from out of you anyway.

It scares you. You feel small, mouse-like, but when he snatches your jaw into a sultry kiss, all canines and spit, you realize that even amidst the tumult of his predator state, you still mean something to him.

You’re all he sees. Feels. Understands to want for.

He burns inside you, the juncture of your thighs becoming sticky, gross. He ploughs inside without care for it, chasing his end and choking out moans along the way.

He coaxes some out of you, too.

Maybe it’s out of fear but you suckle on his tongue experimentally and he shakes, damp skin shivering under your finger pads as you dig them into his forearm.

Maybe you can’t play dead, but if all else fails, you can still play nice.

That’s in your best interest.

“F-uck, sweet thing, you’re gonna make me-“ a primal noise rips through his chest and rings in your ears. He lowers himself to your neck again and suckles at the orbs of blood that prick at the surface, lapping away at the small mess he made.

You wonder if after all this is over, you’ll be able to pretend it was just a love-bite, a hickey or something minor. Healable. Something able to be forgiven. Even if that would also be hard to reconcile with, considering you’d never thought he do something like this to you, the precious girl he’d flip Linkon upside down for—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He’s classy, but not now. Cursing up a storm at your clavicle and pounding into you without thought, blunt nails embedding into your hips. Aching to brand himself wherever he can.

There’s no ceremony to it all (though there is a build-up, his pelvis quickening but stuttering against the underside of your bent thighs) when he comes.

He shouts and you scream, holding onto him for dear life as a torrent of something hot and thick floods you. Your legs shake, poor cunt desperately trying to push its intruder out but it flutters when he throbs inside you and quivers. A wisp of pleasure paralyzes you- it’s so good.

Warmth trickles between you; all along the seam of you when he withdraws until only the tip remains, his cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused.

You let your head bounce against the cushion when he slides it all out with a wet ‘pop’, squeezing your eyes shut in shame. But relief joins it, too, your jaw (that had went slack only to howl with delight) closing as you catch your breath.

It’s done. It’s over. You went through the hard part and now you just have to wait the aftershocks of it out until morning, when you’ll finally be given the chance to recuperate and forget the monster your daddy was acting the night before—

Something thick, straightening back to life, nudges at your sopping hole again as it clenches around nothing. Your eyes snap open.

A large, callous palm holds you down, bracing you by the collarbone. He tuts, leaning over you with a dazed but wholly vicious grin.

Far from satiated.

“Ah-ah, kitten. It’s a little early to tap out, isn’t it? I’m far from done with you.”

He drives himself back home, slamming into you with a moan you brokenly mirror.

✦

Morning birds tweet outside the window. Bickering back and forth to one another.

The sheer curtains glow with sunlight as the onset of dawn makes its way in. Rays of it slur together in blocks on the floor.

Sylus’s room, you realize groggily. Not the living room with its new sofa stained with sweat and sex or the rug with its shattered, neon vials.

A strong arm holds lazily to your waist. Warm breath at your ear tickles you into slight wakefulness. The body slotted behind yours isn’t scorching hot like your nerve endings remember, though, almost flinching in response, and his sounds aren’t ragged. No, it’s…

Peaceful.

The events of the evening before come back to you in increments.

Your mind, with the natural want to protect you, chalks it all up to a bad dream.

The ache between your sticky legs and the fat cockhead that sits limply above the cleft of your ass- appeased- says otherwise.

You let out a soft gasp. The man behind you grumbles out a low, noncommittal sound before his lashes flutter over the blade of your shoulder.

“…Baby? What’s wrong?”

He untucks himself from there and is given great pause when his nakedness- and yours- clicks. His limbs harden around you— horrified and confused as every fresh memory from last night comes barreling into him as well.

Stunned, he lifts his head from its perch at your shoulder, but his hand remains above your hip, feather light and hesitant.

Wearily, you turn to meet him when his other hand gently steers your chin to look his way.

He looks tired. Fucking exhausted, the fine wrinkles in his face emphasized under the weight of the night prior. He looks—

Devastated.

“You-…” A sharp, shallow breath beats from his chest. His eyes, wide and unsteady, flit between yours, searching desperately for something he can’t quite find or recognize as you wet your lip to speak.

“Yesterday, I… Started decorating the house. I was excited to show you,” you say without really knowing why. Sylus’s shoulders sag ever so slightly at your apparent calmness, but the fear in his eye remains as he surveys the bruises- all the discoloration in your otherwise supple skin- and blinks.

You inhale shakily, looking down to his chest and all its striations, put on full display in the afterglow of what transpired however many hours before.

It feels wrong to call it a night of love-making, or even a term more raw, unfeeling, as sex. No, it was…

He fucked you within an inch of your life and that was all you really knew. He fucked you until you passed out and then sometime afterwards, apparently snapped out of his trance just enough to carry you back to his bed and sleep the remnant of his frenzy through.

But it wasn’t his fault. Couldn’t have been.

(Whose, then?)

You murmur, “I should’ve went with Wolfe.”

“No,” and there it is again, that fucking snarl, searing you through to the core but before panic can settle, he’s cradling your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours.

His eyes are intense, but not scary. No, they’re tender and beaten and lovely as his chest shudders and he shakes his head. “No, sweetie. What happened…” he starts, just as unsure of how to label it, “had nothing to do with you. Don’t ever blame it on yourself. Do you understand?”

Blearily, you nod.

You see him in double when he sighs and carefully thumbs away a tear you didn’t realize had formed and fell.

…But Sylus appears a mite uncertain with himself when his eyes fall to your breast before quickly averting, self aware to the point of near pain and definite discomfort. “I’ll clean us up,” he ventures, glancing at you again.

For permission, you realize. To scoop your jelly limbs up and carry you to the shower, bridal-style, where he’ll wash the both of you naked, intimate and-

And should-be alarming.

But it’s not. Not now when you’re still dazed and bruised and his dried cum is caked to your thighs in white rivulets- and he’s just as wounded, but ready to fix. Ready to repaint over the peeling bits of you both in the aftermath of it all. Hang a picture over the hole in the wall of your heart.

“…Okay.”

He wastes no time in picking you up, but he’s gentler than ever when he takes you with him to the bathroom adjoined to his room. It’s awkward: you note that even in the bone-deep fatigue. You can tell he’s trying not to look at all the places instinct tells him he should, and you do well to blot out the sight (and memory) of his softened cock as it dangles between his legs.

The shower starts. Sylus keeps you upright so you don’t fall because your joints will literally fail you otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” he laments as the water pours overhead, holding you against him. He means it in more ways than one. And yet, before you can voice your acknowledgement, and an unsure forgiveness, a small hope stirring in your gut that says this can be moved on from—

His lips press to yours. Chaste but searing; somehow even more world-shattering than last night.

It’s different. He’s… awake.

Jaw slack, you blink at him, water clumping your lashes both. He’s as handsome as a wolf is hungry but- for the moment- domesticated. Even his crow’s feet seem to soften.

“I’ll help you unpack the rest today,” is all he says as he reaches behind you for the soap, gaze unwavering even as you latch onto him and your perfect tits jiggle, his hand dipping below to carefully lather at your marks.

“This house can still be a home. I’ll show you.”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

[pookiesylus]

Sylus when you’re on your period

(I’m on my period, and I need Sylus rn)

Notes:

- His dragon nesting instincts tend to come into play. First he’d toss you into bed with the softest blanket he could find along with your favorite plushies. He would play some soothing music or put on a show you like. He’d prepare tea, and leave it by your bedside. Basically, Sylus would collect any little thing in order to make the most comforting and safe environment for you.

- He wants to be your personal heating pad. He doesn’t mind grabbing one for you, but he’d much rather use his own body heat. (“It’s much more convenient this way, kitten.”) He likes to massage your abdomen with his hand, but he’s also very new to this type of care. So, he makes it known that his whole body is free real estate. Whether you want a massage, a cuddle session, or you just want to squeeze his arms when your cramps surface, Sylus is readily available.

- He does his research looking into the many ways to alleviate your discomfort, but he also studies you, taking your preferences into account. He pays attention to what pad or tampon brand you always get. He notices the snacks you tend to crave, and is always stocked up on them. Sometimes he senses your period before you even know it’s coming.

Scenario:

Sylus had picked you up from work, after you sent him many messages about how bad your cramps were. He carried you princess-style and took you to his nearest place of residence. Once he set you on the warm bed, you fell asleep shortly after.

After a few hours, you shook awake, a little disoriented from the new setting, despite its welcome atmosphere. The memory of Sylus carrying you there almost felt like a dream.

You slowly get up in search of Sylus, but find a red trail on the sheets.

“Ugh. I stained it.”

Your eyes travel to the nightstand where a set of lounge clothes is folded.

“Thank goodness.”

You change out of your tight work clothes and into the much more comfortable clothes Sylus left you.

You set back off to search for Sylus. The moment you make it to the hallway, a rich, delicious aroma hits your nose. You follow it to find him in a well-decorated kitchen, cooking your favorite meal.

“There’s my tired girl.” He looks to his side, his hands still busy.

“Sylus?” You guiltily shuffle your feet and hug his waist from behind.

“Yes, Kitten?” He hums.

“I might have stained your sheets. I’m sorry.” You say hiding your face into his back.

He doesn’t answer and just chuckles.

“What?” You reply in confusion.

“You’re cute. That’s all.” He chuckles again,” I’ll wash them.”

You look up at him from the side. “Wait. That’s not fair. Let me do something. You’ve done so much for me.”

He looks down and smirks at you. “Then you can reward me.”

“Reward?”

“You can reward me with a date once you feel better. Then it’ll be fair, right?”

“Okay…” You answer softly.

“Don’t feel guilty, kitten. You’re the one in pain.” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Now, why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He directs his eyes back to what he’s cooking.

“I don’t want to. I want to be here.” You say, still glued to his back.

“So…” He says inquisitively. “When my kitten’s on her period, she likes it when I’m near her at all times. Noted.”

“I guess you’re stuck with me tonight.” You giggle.

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you every night.”

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being the non-mc significant other of lead guitarist! Sylus.

"The usual?" You have the owner a smile and a nod. "You're late, it's already the four and last set." The pub owner spoke, preparing your drink. "That's because Sylus doesn't know I'm here. It's a surprise." You wink at her.

Imagine engaging on a conversation with the owner, the one you are actually close with given the fact that Sylus and the boys were the one that introduced you to her. She was a lovely lady with a bit of mystery around her. Keeping yourself occupied as you wait for the band to come into the stage.

Imagine preoccupied with your catching up with the owner, you did not notice that they were already on the stage. It wasn't until you heard a familiar strumming of electric guitar that you knew very well who belongs to that made you pause mid sentence and look at the direction of the stage.

Imagine being excited, its been a while since you have seen the boys, let alone your lover perform, having your own lives to begin with, you were quite busy nowadays, so now is the perfect time for a surprise. You even picked up a very unique guitar pick on the way here, designed just for him. He have been complaining about his old ones, ones you are pretty sure he could easily replace, nonetheless it was as if he was giving you some sort of hint.

Imagine the way you look back at the owner, only to see some sort of complicated look on her face. Soon enough you knew why. "Honey, why you calling me so late?" You knew that voice. "It's kinda hard to talk right now." You knew that fucking voice. "Honey, why you crying, is everything okay?" It felt like the world stop, but it didn't. In fact, it continues. Painfully. "I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud"

Imagine, Sylus was never the best singer. There was a reason why he was the lead guitarist and not the vocalist. But the thing is, when he tries, when he tries hard enough. He really singings well. You have heared him, even laugh at him. But of boy did you love him singing. When he sings it was always full of emotion. Like unwritten stories yet to say and unfold. Like hidden feelings waiting to be heard. He only singing when it's important. He only sings for you. Or so you though.

"It's funny that you're calling me tonight." You watch silently, at the side the way he looks in the crowd. Then his eyes soften, "And, yes, I've dreamt of you too." You knew you shouldn't have followed his gaze, you don't want to get hurt nor confirm anything, but you still did. And boy, it fucking hurts. "And does he know you're talking to me? Will it start a fight?" There he was looking at her, MC. "No, I don't think she has a clue."

Imagine, you always wonder why they broke up. They were so perfect for each other. But then again, that was all in the past? Right? You knew Sylus loves you. You knew he does, but you also knew that she was there first. Before you there was her. How could you even compare yourself to her? She was well loved my everyone, heck, even you could tell how much of a lovable person she was. That's why you always wonder, why you? Still, Sylus always made you feel like you were enough. But you aren't really sure anymore.

"Well, my girl's in the next room, sometimes I wish she was you." She laughs, exchanging words with her friend as she sat there in front, eyes never looking away at Sylus. "I guess we never really moved on." Sylus was looking at her softly, he was looking at her with something in his eyes.

Imagine you found yourself back to all those years ago. Amongst the crowd as you watch the two stare at each other. You felt like a bystander as you did all those years ago. "It's really good to hear your voice saying my name, It sounds so sweet" When Sylus sings, it holds a meaning. It means this moment, this very moment is important for him. "Coming from the lips of an angel. Hearing those words, it makes me weak."

"I need to go." You do not know why you felt awfully calm, heart beating wildly at your chest makes you wonder why. "I'm s-" You just raise a hand and smile at her. Funny it felt numb when your heart literally have broken into tiny little pieces. "I'll come back to my tab later." "And I never wanna say goodbye."

Imagine the way you slowly make it out of the pub. Your heart weighting heavily on your chest. Taking every bit of you strength to prevent yourself from crying. Dragging your feet as you walk and took a deep breath to compose yourself. "But, girl, you make it hard to be faithful." You did not look back, you don't want to. And finally, you grab a hold of the door and push it. "With the lips of an angel." And so you were out the door.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: Sana all bakasyon na, sabaysabay tayong mag dusa.

[starsforxavi]

unexpected visit ⁘ sylus

·······•✦ description: In which: Your unexpected visit to Sylus' penthouse reveals a side of him you never knew, a side that he wished to always keep hidden because he was a monster. At least, that's what he told himself. But you never thought of him that way, and you want to prove it.

·······•✦ pairing: dragon!sylus x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 3.1k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: Fluff, Smut, Light Angst, Walking In On Someone, Dragon!Sylus, Well more like Hybrid, Mentions of his lore, Body Worship, Established Relationship, Horns, Grinding, Cowgirl Position, Missionary Position, Voice Kink, Praise Kink, Words of Affirmation, Horns as Handlebars, Mentions of Aftercare, Creampie, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, POV Second Person, No use of y/n

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

You never thought it would be possible to sneak up on the famed Onychinus boss… His guard was completely down, back turned to the doorway as you pushed it open with a slow hand. His scales glittered a beautiful black with an undertone of red under the lights of his bedr-

Scales? 

The gasp you let out alerted Sylus, and then you caught sight of his blazing red eyes. They seemed brighter than normal, matching the intense red crackling beneath the surface of the black scales. It was only but a moment that you saw the adornments along his spine before his bare chest was in your vision.

You had seen him shirtless many times, touched along the warm skin from above and below, but the way your jaw dropped slightly sent a shiver through Sylus’ spine. A hint of fear edged into his vision, his throat bobbling with unspoken words. 

It took only a quick clear of his throat for him to steel his expression, lips curling into a smirk. Though the look in his eyes gave away the hint of nervousness. He could hide himself again, but it was painful. Retracting his scales and horns took energy, something he had learned how to do over millennia. 

“I didn’t-” he cleared his throat again, legs carrying him until he was almost right in front of you, “expect you this early, sweetie.” His words stuttered slightly, the divet between his pecs throbbing slightly. Even though he didn’t want to remember, his body remembered…

“I was eager to see you.” The smile on your face was genuine, eyes sparkling under the dim light of his bedroom. “I am eager to see you.” There was a beat of silence, and then you danced your fingers up his arm, wrapping it around his neck. “Do you want to tell me?” 

The softness conveyed everything you needed to say. It’s okay if you don’t want to say anything. Your eyes gazed into his, seeing the raging inferno calm into a gentle bonfire. There was no fear in your irises, only the love that you had harbored for so long. 

“It’s just…” He sighed, his eyes flickering down to your lips as he gripped your waist. His touch seared into your skin, and you swore you could see his silver hair twisting into tiny horns. “I’m a monster, sweetie. I have horns and scales. It’s a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Can I see them?” Ignoring his words to tear himself down, you ran your fingers through his hair. The unmistakable hitch in his breath gave him away. “The horns… And the scales.” 

The tips of your fingers danced between his shoulder blades, edging along a hard shell almost as if you were touching bone. It was interesting, the way the hardness seemed soft in its own way. Armor guarding him from harm. 

There was a hesitation in his eyes, his smirk still plastered on his face. The chuckle he let out was soft, and in the small space between you, his warmth wrapped around you. He trusted you with every ounce of his soul, but he also knew how others looked at him. You, however, weren’t like the others. You never were.

“Are you sure?” He sighed, eyes closing as your fingers delivered a gentle massage to his shoulders. The reminders of the wings he once had, the freedom he experienced kissing the mountaintops with you in his arms… He missed it. “Once you see me like that, you can’t go back.” 

With a chuckle, you brought him down to press a kiss to his lips. It was chaste, your mouths slotting together perfectly before you pulled away just enough to speak. With your nose brushing his, you smiled. 

“I’ll love you in every form.” The hand on the back of his neck moved to his jaw, your thumb tracing his cheekbone. “I fell in love with your soul. Your looks are just a bonus.” 

A true laugh burst out from his chest, eyes crinkling shut for a moment. His hands settled on your hips, his grip tight as if he didn’t want to let you go. It was impossible to let you go. To let you go would be to lose a part of himself. His heart soared at your words, knowing you felt the same connection. You remembered the same connection. Even if your brain didn’t, your heart did. 

“Well, I’m glad you at least like my looks.” The smile faded just a bit, his eyes flickering between yours before capturing your lips in another kiss. That one was more intense than the last but not overwhelming. His deep breaths filled his lungs, groaning into your mouth as he pulled you closer. 

When he parted, he kissed the edges of your lips, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’ve already seen my back. I guess it’s time for you to see it all.”

Stepping back, there was a silence as he turned away from you. The scales were the same black color, with a soft glisten under the light. Beneath them, a light red glow had the skin around it bathed in a hue. 

Then, those same scales spread across his wide shoulders. It was like a suit of armor settling on his body, the outline intriguing and beautiful at the same time. They went down his arms but stopped at his fingers. 

Before you could ask if he had claws, you gasped as you looked up at him. Very noticeable dark horns sprouted up from his silver hair. It framed his face, and you knew to others it would be scary, but you were excited. Yes, he was different, but he was still the attractive Sylus you met and fell for. 

“So, do you think I’m a mon- mmph!”

You cut off his question with a kiss. It was desire-filled and desperate, wanting to assure him that you loved him. You still wanted him, even after seeing that. As if it were an ultimatum. Your steps pushed him back until he hit the bed, sitting down. 

“Sit against the headboard.” You said, watching as he settled on the sheets. The grey sweatpants were low on his hips, giving you a peek at the small trail of hair from his navel. His hair was disheveled, and his chest was flushed dark. 

Wide eyes watched you strip down to your underwear, climbing onto the bed and situating yourself in his lap. You wanted him, but you also wanted to make sure he knew how much you loved him. 

“Can I touch you?” Your hands hovered over his arms, feeling heat radiating from the dark adornments. 

“Yes, please.” It was a whisper of a response, his eyes locked onto your face. Oh, how he itched to read your expression. He was normally so in tune with your body, but the way you gazed at his horns and the scales, he wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry. 

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, and heat immediately seared into your skin. He was hot, in the literal sense, but it didn’t hurt. If anything, it only added to the intensity of the warmth inside you—a fire that burned eternally, only stoked by the raging heat from your lover beneath you. 

“Sweetie,” He started, his muscles flexing as you traced the line of scales. They were surprisingly nice to touch, gliding along each one until you reached his shoulders. It was reminiscent of wings, and while you wanted to prod more with questions, you settled on silence. “I need you.” 

“You’re not a monster, Sylus.” His statement caused your hips to stutter against his, the bulge pressing against your core only covered by your panties. The silver hair was soft under your fingers, and you massaged his scalp until you touched the hard, bone-like horns. 

His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he fought back a groan. The grip he had on your hips tightened, pinky fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. He was desperate, but he also wanted to let you speak. 

“Sensitive?” You teased, wrapping your hand around one of his horns. It was a lewd image, one that had your body trembling. A small surge of electricity shot through you, and you leaned down, your clothed breasts flattening against him. He could feel your hard nipples through the padding, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Y-” he swallowed again, his ears flushing deeper red as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Yes…” 

Another groan - louder and slightly higher pitched - fell from his lips, eyes closing. If it weren’t for the hold on his horn, his head would have his the wall behind him. But you held on, tightening your grip. To see him so vulnerable, so pliant under your hands as he bared his soul to you…

Your lips found his in a messy kiss, head tilting to deepen it. Tongues danced to their own rhythm, and your hips did the same. Grinding down on his lap, then nipping at his bottom lip… It was an art to the way you kissed him. It all came naturally, as if you had been doing it for centuries. 

A hand pushed down Sylus’ sweatpants, freeing his leaking cock that had already dampened the fabric. That own hand also moved your panties to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air. Sylus groaned into your mouth, guiding his tip along your folds. 

Your whimper was caught in his throat, knees pushing you up until his head was nestled right inside your entrance. The stretch was delicious already, feeling yourself accommodate his thickness. With a hand on his horn and the other on the warm scales of his shoulder, you let yourself sink down. 

Both of you moaned at the intensity, his hips sitting flush against yours. His cock twitched with each slow graze of his scales or horns, fingers threading through his hair and dancing between the dark protrusions. 

“I love you so much, beautiful.” He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. It wasn’t just a statement for the moment, the way his cock buried so deep inside you, tightening around him with each pulse of your pussy. The statement was meant for every single moment for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too, Sylus.” Your hips shifted, body stuttering as his cock pressed against the most sensitive spot inside you. “So much… So, so much.” 

Each movement sent shocks running through both of you. With your hands anchored on his shoulders, the thick vein of his cock dragged along your walls as you rode him. It was slow and intimate, eyes locked on each other. 

Questions popped up, but were immediately wiped away with the desperate rutting on his cock. That could wait until you were finished. Literally. Now, all you needed was Sylus to know how much you loved him. 

“You’re so - ah - hot,” you whined, bouncing faster on him. Each time you clenched your pussy around his cock, his hips bucked, pushing himself deeper and deeper. He was uncontrollable, like he was in heat and just needing release. “You’re still, fuck, Sylus.”

Just Sylus… 

He was just Sylus.

Sylus’ hands pressed against your back, holding you closer to him. With his feet planted on the bed, he turned onto his side and then, eventually, let you rest comfortably against the sheets. His body enveloped yours, cock still nestled inside you.

With the new position, he struggled to get rid of his sweatpants, eventually taking them off and throwing them to the side. His hands held your waist with a tender touch, his eyes roaming over your body before settling on your face. When he spoke again, it was with a gentle voice. 

“Panties off?” That would mean he would have to pull out, and while he was desperate to stay buried inside your tight heat, he would do whatever you asked. 

“Just fuck me, Sylus.” As soon as he leaned down to capture your lips, you ran a hand through his hair, gliding your fingers along his horn while the other pressed between his shoulder blades. 

It was like his spine was stronger, harder beneath your fingertips. You wondered what it would be like to give him a massage, touching along every small scale that decorated the wide expanse of his back. 

Sylus’ hips continued their slow rolls, teasing you with just enough to have cut-up moans echoing from your lips while not enough to bring you one step closer to ecstasy. In truth, Sylus loved hearing your voice; the poetic way you strung together your words sounded like a symphony to him every time. 

“Keep talking,” he said, the sentence halfway between a command and a plea. His whole body was hot, molten lava bubbling in his chest, and he could almost feel the pulsing of the ruby that was once laid between his pecs. 

“Fuck, o-okay,” swallowing the lump in your throst, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Low whimpers came each time he touched a new part of your body. 

“I love the - hhng - way you t-tou-ch me.” his left hand gripped your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. 

Despite the bursts of pleasure, you continued. “Love your - ah - horns… How - fuck - sens-itive you ah are,” you could barely keep your eyes open, your pupils halfway obscured by your eyelashes. 

Sylus picked up his pace, his right hand pressing against your lower abdomen. He could feel each thrust of his cock, his tip kissing his palm. The only wall between the two is the flesh of your stomach. 

“Keep - ah fuck - going,” Sylus breathed out, leaning his body down so he could press a kiss to your lips. You were irresistible to him. He would never get tired of seeing you, hearing you, feeling you, tasting you. 

“You- are- not- a- monster-” each of your words was cut off with a moan, his hips clapping against yours. Your breath mingled with his, noses brushing together as you stared into each other’s eyes. 

His eyes were the windows to his soul, which was yours. Everything of his was yours. Every material thing, every emotional thing, every spiritual thing. Anything that had his name on it was also yours. No question. 

“Your eyes are—ah—gorgeous,” it was a ghost of a whisper, your lips finding his in a clash of tongue and teeth. The kiss wasn’t even an actual kiss, just a desperate attempt to get even closer to one another. 

His cock throbbed, twitching inside you with each compliment that came from your heart. You meant every word… You knew that. Sylus knew that. He gave you his everything, and you did the same in return. Though he would never ask anything of you.

Sylus was content being alone, knowing he would never find you again, but fate has a way of reconnecting two lost souls. Just as you did before, you thundered your way into his life, showing him his true purpose. 

He felt it in every tender love-making session in bed, and the feral fucking that happened in bathrooms or his car. There was love in fucking and there was also carnal desire in affection. You were the balances that forced the other to a happy medium. Two sides of the same coin and owners of each others’ soul. 

“You’re gorgeous.” He panted, thumb finding your clit and rubbing quick circles. “So- so- gorgeous.” As you tightened around him, his hips stuttered, the heat surrounding him and filling every ounce of his being becoming too much. 

Your hips bucked up to meet his, finding the right amount of friction as he repeated the word gorgeous against your lips. He would never miss the chance to shower you in compliments, making sure you knew just how perfect you were. 

“Is my pretty girl gonna - ha - cum for me?” The hand not stroking your clit held the back of your neck, his lips slotting perfectly against yours. 

He knew you were getting close. He was more attuned to your body than anything else. Your rhythm, your touch, every bump and dip in your skin. If all his senses were taken away from him, he would still be able to feel your presence. His soul was at peace when you were around. 

“Yes, fuck… Yes.” You panted, eyes threatening to close. Each time you blinked slowly, he pinched your clit, pulling whine after whine from your lips. “God, Sylus.” 

“Say my name, pretty girl.” He purred, his eyes locked on yours as he pistoned his cock right against your sweet spot. Stars danced behind your eyes, jaw stuck open in a perpetual moan that was stuttered with each thrust. 

“Sy- ah- Sylus!” 

Your high crashed over you before you could say anything else, legs locking around his waist. Each wave of pleasure caused your pussy to pulse around him, coaxing him further and further until barely seconds after you came, he was slowing down. 

His cock twitched, shooting load after load inside you until his body slowly lost strength. The muscles in his back and legs tensed, and he lowered himself until he was laying completely on top of you. 

At the awkward angle, you felt him slip out of you, a small trickle of his release dripping from your hole. His chest pressed against yours, face nuzzling into your neck as he breathed in gentle sighs. He made sure not to hurt you with the horns, feeling them press against the headboard behind you. 

“I love you, Sy.” You whispered to him, letting his lips carve a path along your shoulder and neck. His legs were intertwined with yours, hands tapping up and down your torso.

“I love you too, beautiful.” The mumbled words fan across your skin, bringing a smile to your face as you carded your fingers through his silver hair. “Thank you…” He started, closing his eyes. “For not viewing me as a monster.” 

You didn’t remember the past, the heartache he faced, and the light you brought into his life. His light was back. The person who taught him how to be, how to love, and how to lose. 

“You will never be a monster to me.” You leaned down enough to press a kiss to his forehead. “I will always love you, no matter what.” 

There was a beat of silence as you listened to each other’s hearts and the way they complemented each other, the way they completed each other. 

“Now, can we clean up?” You chuckled, running your hand up and down the scales of his spine. “As much as I love feeling these,” the touch on his spine is light, “I really don't want to ruin the sheets with your cum and wake up with sticky thighs.”

Sylus laughed again, a loud laugh that rumbled through his chest and had your heart soaring through the clouds. Sitting up on his elbows, he looked down at you, eyes glowing red with adoration and pure love. 

“Let’s clean up then, beautiful.” 

© starsforxavi

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

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

Riiiiing�� RiiiNGGGGG––

...

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call. Quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress—along with the charger cord still attached to it—and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, laundry. Gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. “Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as it sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum—depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you—almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead—probably tonight when you do your daily login—you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming—but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell surprise and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you hadn't switched your phone to silent, hadn't made the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend—nope, nothing unusual here—you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Caleb

Caleb x Non Mc/Reader

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

a/n: ok this is my longest fic yet (can you tell he's my fav), chat i think i cooked with this one. this will be the last part in my lonely birthday series, i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, reader is childhood friends w/ caleb and MC, MC is a bit of a spoiled brat here (pls dkm), this is set in a timeline where there are no evols and caleb does not die in an explosion, this one acc has a backstory in comparison to the other parts I wrote, just cause jumping right into it with caleb just didnt feel right without a proper backstory, use of pet names (sadly he's not calling you pip-squeak in this one but he does call you baby), mentions of self harm (nothing happens its just a thought that passes), lmk if i missed smth

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

Xavier Rafayel Zayne Sylus

taglist: @rcvcgers

You were always overshadowed by her, from childhood to adulthood.

To make matters worse, your birthdays were only a couple of days apart, yours coming before hers, because they were so close together your birthdays were always celebrated with her on her birthday.

It was like killing two birds with one stone. Every time you complained about wanting to celebrate your birthday on your actual date you were told it would be unfair for MC.

Your own family favoured her more than you, sometimes you wondered whether they even considered you their daughter at all.

But then there was Caleb. Him and MC were inseparable when you first met her, always there whenever you two hung out. Eventually, you got close to him as well and began to hang outside of your meet ups with MC.

He always made you feel like you were your own person, not a shadow of someone else.

Maybe that's why you fell for him.

Over the course of your childhood leading into your teenage years you were head over heels for him. Anyone could see it was obvious, and to certain people it bothered them, and you never noticed it until it was too late.

●・○・●・○・●・

Despite being the same age as MC, there was one thing you had that she didn't. You were far smarter than those your age, that gave you the ability to skip ahead a couple of grades so that you were at a level that was more to your capabilities.

But your brain could only get you so far in certain circumstances.

You were in the same class as Caleb, so naturally you ended up being closer to him than you were before. It also made admiring him much more easier.

But nothing was ever easy for you. All throughout your school years MC would always barge in on your study time with Caleb, always needing help with her assignments.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem if it was a one off thing, but anytime you were over at their place to study with Caleb, it became a tutoring session for MC. It was even more annoying when she would constantly brush off your help, only wanting Caleb to help her.

"I don't understand it when you explain it. You're always using difficult words."

MC whined whenever you would offer to help, and each time Caleb would laugh and ruffle her hair.

"It's okay pip-squeak, I'll explain it in simpler terms."

Whenever he would say that, you could feel a pang in your chest.

It was during that time you and MC started to drift apart. You never really understood until that day.

●・○・●・○・●・

The day before graduation you finally chalked up the courage to confess to Caleb, and to your surprise he had accepted.

You had anticipated a rejection, knowing that he was busy with prepping to go to Skyhaven to attend the DAA, and unfortunately a lot of his free time was spent with MC.

He had always been protective of her, he also extended that to you as well. Although the way he treated you was different than the way he treated her.

The fleeting glances, the lingering touches, the nights he would spend with you when things were bad. How could you not fall for a man who cared for you like that.

You thought it was just your delusions that there was something between the two of you, but him accepting your confession made those delusions become reality.

●・○・●・○・●・

Everyone found you guys to be an unexpected couple, they always expected Caleb to be with MC with how good their chemistry was, but he viewed her simply as his little sister. One that he was a little too protective of but you never found that to be a sense of insecurity.

Or so you thought.

You and Caleb had been dating for almost 4 years now. It was a bit rough with both of you pursuing your academics and not having much time to spend together, but you guys always made it work.

Sometimes Caleb would bail on your dates because something came up with his studies, and you believed him. Who knew it was because someone felt a little jealous of you guys spending time together.

You had never realized that the dates Caleb bailed were because someone back in Linkon wanted attention, and who better to ask than Caleb!

You and MC and drifted apart, and after your graduation you barely ever saw her unless you were home for the holidays with Caleb. You chose to be the bigger person whenever she tried to monopolize Caleb's time, knowing he saw you more often than her, you let it slide.

Although, deep down it bothered you that she would always try to be the sole focus of his attention or when you guys went out on a date she just so happened to be there too, turning it into a group hangout where you felt like the third wheel.

Crazy right? Being a third wheel in your own relationship, guess you could cross that off on your bingo card.

It was your birthday tomorrow, you and Caleb had planned a nice day in with him cooking your favourites and then baking a cake together. Both of your schedules had finally managed to align and you guys had a week off, so you planned on crashing at his place for some much needed quality time.

With it being your final year, you guys were buried in back to back assignments and exams, the stress was high. Having the week off let you guys finally have a moment to breathe.

You packed your bags for the week before making your way over to Caleb's place, it wasn't too far of a drive. You made a quick stop at the grocery store, grabbing your favourite snacks and some groceries so you can make him some food while you're at his place.

By the time you got to Caleb's place the sun was just starting to set. You walked into his place, unlocking it with the spare keys he gave you.

It was quiet in his home.

"Hmm seems like Caleb isn't back from his classes yet."

You thought out loud. Putting away your stuff in his room you made your way to the kitchen, wanting to cook Caleb some dinner.

Like magic, as soon as you were done adding the finishing touches to dinner, Caleb walked in.

"Hi baby, it smells good in here."

Caleb greeted you, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips.

You quickly sent him away to go wash up while you set the table. Dinner was nice and peaceful, it was moments like these that made you feel happy. No distractions, just you and Caleb.

You guys spent most of dinner just catching up about all the stuff that happened while you guys were apart. Caleb insisted on cleaning up since you had cooked dinner, so you were sitting on the counter next to the sink as he washed the dishes.

You chatted away mindlessly, he listened with a smile on his face, throwing in a response here and there.

Once he was done, you were about to jump off the counter when Caleb slotted himself between your legs, hands coming to rest on your hips.

You immediately went quiet, the mood shifting to something more intimate. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling your nose with his.

You guys stayed in that position for a little bit, enjoying the moment. The rest of the evening was spent with you guys just lounging around and catching up.

As you were getting ready for bed you could feel your stomach drop with anxiety for no reason, you brushed it off as just your nerves about sharing the same bed with Caleb after a while.

You shouldn't have brushed it off.

You got changed into one of his t-shirts and got into bed, Caleb slid in not too long after, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest.

“Goodnight.”

He said as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Goodnight.”

You replied back, snuggling closer into his chest.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was around 4 am when you woke up to feeling an empty bed next to you.

It’s still warm, Caleb must have just gotten up.

You got out of bed to go look for him. The moment you stepped out the your room you spotted him in the living room dressed to go outside.

The alarm bells in your head were going off.

“Hey, where are you going this late at night?”

It was just a simple question, one that didn’t warrant the reaction you were about to receive.

“Out.”

Caleb replied in an oddly cold tone.

What’s with that tone?

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked. Where are you going?”

You asked again, something in your gut was telling you that you were not going to like the answer.

Caleb sighed out in frustration before replying.

“MC called and needed me, so I’m going to Linkon right now. You know how she gets.”

Normally you wouldn’t say anything, but this was supposed to be your time with Caleb, no distractions.

“Why do you always go at the drop of a hat whenever she calls? You’re supposed to be spending time with me, not running to her whenever something doesn’t go her way.”

Years of frustration were finally bubbling to the surface, you didn’t want it to come out but you had to set your boundaries.

“It’s not fair to me as your girlfriend if you keep putting her above me.”

Your voiced raised a bit as you spoke, you didn’t mean for it to but having to constantly deal with MC barging in on your time with Caleb, whether she knew he was with you or not, was beyond irritating.

“I’m not putting her above you, she just requires a bit more care and attention than you do.”

That did it, if you weren’t mad before you definitely were now.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s exactly as I said it. MC always feels insecure, even more so when you skipped grades and left her alone. I can’t just ignore her when she calls me asking for help.”

Every explanation that came out of his mouth had you seeing red, you weren’t gonna back down either.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me? Just because we were friends didn’t mean that I had to be stuck to her hip 24/7. I skipped those grades cause it benefited me for my future, and if she really was my friend she would’ve been happy for me instead of sulking around like a child.”

That lit a fuse in Caleb, if there was one thing he didn’t tolerate it was anyone saying something about MC, even if it was you.

“You better watch what you say, I won’t tolerate it even it it’s you.”

His tone had you taking a step back, it was a whole different level of cold. You should’ve taken that as your sign to back off and come back to this when you guys were less heated, but who were you if not stubborn.

“Omg how could I ever insult your precious MC. You need to let go of that overprotectiveness you have when it comes to her, it puts me in a tough spot when you go running to her like a dog when its owner calls.”

You probably took it too far with that but you were past the point of no return.

“You’re so infuriating! What do you not understand that MC needs me right now, every moment I spend here on this useless conversation is more time she’s alone.”

He spat back.

I’m infuriating?

That hit a nerve, but you couldn’t let him see that, not until you got all your feelings out.

“I’m infuriating?! What about MC? Every time we get some time together she always fucking ruins it! Can’t I just have all of your attention and time without her trying to barge in? It’s like she’s trying to make it so we don’t spend any time together!”

“God you’re so fucking clingy! I knew I should have listened to MC when she warned me not to date you!”

He yelled that at you, and for the first time since the conversation started you were speechless.

“What?”

Your voice was low and filled with hurt. You couldn’t believe your ears that he would say something like that.

“You heard me. I should have never dated you. I ignored MC when she warned me, I gave you the benefit of the doubt but I should’ve fucking known. MC would have been a better girlfriend than you.”

You could hear your heart breaking, you don’t know if you’d ever recover from this.

Caleb took your silence as an opportunity to walk around you to the door, slamming it behind him.

You felt your knees give out, the tears were streaming down your face in silent pain. You didn’t know he thought of you that way, you didn’t want to think that way but a part of you felt like MC was talking bad about you behind your back. It makes no sense he would say all of that on his own.

Will I always be in her shadow? Is that all I’m worth?

You thought to yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

God knows how long you were in that position for, no sign of Caleb coming back or any calls or texts. You picked yourself up off the floor and gathered all your things, you’d be damned if you spent another minute in this house where you clearly had no worth.

Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, you made sure to clear everything you had at Caleb’s place, not leaving a single thing behind.

You put everything in your car and drove yourself home. It was 6 in the morning so the roads were starting to get busy but it was quiet enough for you to be lost in thought, a dangerous action while driving. You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice that you were approaching a red light until it was too late.

A car had crashed into your drivers side, and everything went black.

●・○・●・○・●・

*In Linkon*

Caleb had made it outside of MC’s dorm, the argument he had with you weighing heavy on his mind but his first priority was MC.

Who knew that argument would cost him everything.

It didn’t take long before MC threw open the door and jumped into his arms. He returned the hug by patting her on the head before heading inside.

“What happened? Why did you call?”

He asked, although his mind wasn’t entirely present in the moment, it kept drifting back to you.

“Oh no reason, I was just thinking about you and decided to call you. You know it’s my birthday in a couple of days so I wanted you to spend some time with me this weekend.”

For the first time ever, Caleb felt a spark of annoyance at MC’s reasoning. She had called him earlier in tears and said he needed to come quick, he even fought with you before coming here.

Pushing that feeling aside he simply smiled.

“You know I can’t do that pip squeak, I already promised Y/N I would spend my week off with her. We had a bit of an argument before I came here, so I have to go back in a bit to make sure she’s fine.”

He said.

She’ll probably be calmed down by the time I come back.

He thought to himself, boy was he wrong.

MC pouted, not liking how things weren’t playing in her favour, but she planned on trying to come up with another excuse later to get him to stay longer.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed when he got that heart stopping call.

“Hello is this Caleb Xia? This is Skyhaven Hospital calling about Miss Y/N.”

The nurse spoke in a hurried tone, tt was like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

“Speaking, what happened.”

His anxiety went through the roof, what happened after he left? Did you hurt yourself? But he never say any signs of depression, was he actually putting MC above you so much that he was ignoring your feelings?

His mind was running a mil a minute with each thought progressively getting worse, the guilt from what he said to you when you guys fought was finally kicking in.

“She was involved in a car accident and needs surgery, we require a signature from her guardian to proceed. Are you able to come in right now? It’s urgent.”

“Can I give you my consent over the phone? I’m currently in Linkon and it would take me some time to get back, I don’t want to delay the procedure.”

Although Caleb sounded composed, on the inside he was breaking.

“The surgeon said that should be fine, please do make sure to be here as soon as possible as you need to fill out some forms. We’ll get started on the surgery. Thank you.”

The nurse promptly hung up, leaving Caleb to his thoughts.

Without wasting a moment he got up and made his way to the door. MC had been trying to listen to what was being said on the phone, unable to decipher what was happening based on Caleb’s words alone. Seeing Caleb getting ready to leave she jumped up, trying to stop him.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave, you basically just got here!”

She grabbed ahold of his arm, trying to physically stop him but it was of no use, he pulled his arm out of her grasp and tried to leave again before she spoke up.

“What excuse did she come up with this time? She does this all the time whenever you and I spend time together.”

Something in him had just snapped, it was like a fog had been lifted. Never in his life did he think he would be here getting upset at MC, but life has a funny way of proving you wrong.

“What are you even talking about, when has she ever done that?”

MC was taken aback, Caleb never questioned her whenever she said anything like this before, he would just spend some time comforting her.

“I don’t have time for this, I’m leaving. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

He said in a curt tone, leaving no room for discussion.

●・○・●・○・●・

Caleb had booked it to Skyhaven, not wanting to waste a single moment.

By the time he made it, the surgery was still ongoing. Grabbing the nearest nurse he asked for an update, unfortunately they didn’t have much of an update to give him aside from the fact that your condition was really bad when you were brought in. You had ran a red light and were hit on the drivers side by oncoming traffic, the other driver made it out with minor injuries and a concussion.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. You had been brought in with internal bleeding, a broken arm and head trauma. Your recovery period was going to be lengthy, which in turn would also hinder your ability to graduate this year like you had planned, but that was a problem for next time.

Caleb slumped onto on the chairs outside the OR, the time passed by excruciatingly slow.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours later the operation was finally completed.

Seeing you in that condition physically hurt him, his chest feeling constricted.

“We were able to stop the bleeding but she’s still unconscious, because the head trauma was severe it’ll take some time before she will wake up.”

Caleb nodded, listening to the doctor’s words intently. He followed the nurses to the room where you were going to be recovering, taking a seat next to the bed he held your hand in his.

“I’m sorry, please. Please just wake up soon.”

Sadly you wouldn’t wake up for another two months.

Everyday Caleb would come to take care of you, making sure to change the flowers before they began to wilt, taking responsibility to wash you and take care of your hair, hell he would even do your skincare at night so you’d wake up in perfect condition.

Although he knew deep down inside that nothing he could do could ever make up for the things he said and how he made you feel. Caleb and MC had also grown apart during this time, constantly wishing that he had never went to see her that night, if he didn’t then maybe you’d be awake and smiling next to him instead of lying still on that bed in this lifeless hospital room.

Caleb came in with a fresh bouquet of your favourite flowers, silently he replaced the old ones, making sure to get some fresh water before putting in the new bouquet. Once that was done he made his way to his usual spot, right next to your bed.

Earlier the doctor said you were recovering well, although it would take some time and rehab for you to use your arm again. You’d also be weak from the extended period of time that was spent in bed, but Caleb was nothing if not determined to make sure he was there for you every step of the way.

“Hey baby, it’s me Caleb. You’re probably tired of hearing my voice everyday huh? The doctor says you’re recovering well, you’ll just need some rehab to help you get back into the groove of things when you wake up.”

Caleb kept getting choked up the more he spoke, he just wanted you to wake up, even if you don’t want him anymore, he’d be fine with that.

“I miss you, your voice, your sweet smile, everything. If I could trade spots with you I would. So please, please just wake up. I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a shitty boyfriend aren’t I? I can’t believe I said all of that, on your birthday no less.”

At this point the tears he tried so hard to hold back started streaming down his face. It was hard to keep up that strong front, but he tried because he felt that he didn’t deserve to be sad, not when he’s to blame for you being in this state.

He grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it to his face hoping to feel something. Anything.

He nuzzled his face in to your hand as he silently cried. It wasn’t long before he was passed out in that chair, still holding your hand to his face.

He felt it in the middle of the night, always the light sleeper he was awake at the slightest of movements. He knew he wasn’t mistaken, he felt your hand twitch for this first time in two months.

He was now wide awake and sitting upright in his seat, watching you closely. That’s when he say it, your hand twitched in his hold, a slight groan escaping your lips, but your eyes had still yet to open.

Caleb had already pressed the call button, the nurses and doctor filling the room in a matter of minutes, that’s when you had finally opened your eyes.

●・○・●・○・●・

A series of tests had been conducted and the doctor had caught you up to speed with everything before you were left alone with Caleb. You avoided looking at him the entire time, it stung, but he couldn’t complain.

You cleared your throat uncomfortably, the dryness getting to you, but before you could even get the water, Caleb had already poured a glass and was holding it out to you.

You silently took it from him and drank it slowly, not wanting to shock your system. It was a struggle, your grip on the glass was weak. It almost slipped out of your hands if not for Caleb holding the bottom of the cup.

Once you were done, Caleb put the glass on the side, reaching out to grab your hands. You pulled them back before he could touch you.

“Why are you here Caleb? Doesn’t MC need you?”

Were you being petty? Yes, the fight that you guys had may have been two months ago for him, but for you it was like it was yesterday. The wounds from his words were still fresh.

You missed the look of hurt that flashed across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"You don't get to come in here and think that everything will be fine. I just wanted one week with you, no distractions. All I got in return? You leaving me alone on the morning of my birthday after telling me you should've listened to MC when she told you not to date me?!"

You had tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them escape. You didn't want to let him see just how broken you were about this.

Caleb had nothing to say, how could he? He was the one who put you in this position, he's the reason you ended up in the hospital.

"Please just leave."

Your voice sounded so broken, all he could do was listen to your request even though every cell in his being told him to stay by your side. He chose to just wait outside your room, not wanting to be too far away from you but still wanting to respect your request.

As soon as soon Caleb left the room you let the tears you were holding back fall, your body shook with sobs as everything came crashing down on you.

Even with the morphine you could feel the lingering bits of pain all throughout your body.

You eventually ended up crying yourself to sleep. The silence had Caleb worried, so he had decided to check in on you, seeing that you were asleep he was able to calm himself down a little.

But the sight of your tear stricken face had him clutching his chest in pain, all he wanted to do was take away your pain.

For now, he was just going to try his best to be by your side, no matter how much you pushed him away. He was determined to make things right.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of weeks had passed before you were finally released from the hospital.

During that time Caleb was as stubborn as ever, never leaving your side unless it was for classes, he spent the nights next to your bed, watching over you. He was always one step ahead, if you were thinking about food or water, the next second he would have it in front of you.

You didn't want to admit it, you enjoyed having him wait on you hand and foot. But you still weren't ready to forgive him, not yet. You still needed to talk to him about what happened before you could decide where this relationship was headed.

You wanted to give him another chance, seeing how tirelessly he's been taking care of you these past few weeks. You could only assume he was doing the same those two months where you were unconscious.

In the meantime, you decided his punishment would be your silence, not speaking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then you only spoke a few words.

Caleb was currently in class, it was a Friday so that meant he'd home earlier than the other days.

You didn't have much of a choice as to where you'd be staying, Caleb wanted to make sure you were taking all your medication as well as doing the exercises you were assigned for your rehab, he knew how forgetful you could be, and you were in no condition to be staying on your own. So his solution was to have you stay at his place.

Being there brought back bad memories, but you had made up your mind to talk to him about it. If you were going to be staying here you needed to know where you guys stood in each others lives.

You were currently in his room, wanting to take a nap but your mind was too active for you to relax.

It wasn't long before Caleb came home, not seeing you in the living room he immediately made his way towards his room.

The moment he walked in he relaxed, seeing that you were alright. You saw him and thought,

It's now or never.

"We need to talk."

Caleb's heart dropped, his mind went crazy thinking you were about to break up with him. Although he couldn't blame you for wanting to, but he refused to let you go, you were the only good thing he had in his life, he couldn't afford to lose you. Not before he had a chance to make things right.

"Okay."

He said as calmly as possible, not wanting to give away the immense anxiety he was feeling from this situation.

He walked towards you, kneeling on the ground next to you.

"I'm giving you one chance to explain yourself for that night."

That was all he needed to go on tangent about that night, from the call from MC where she was crying to going to her house and finding out she had been lying to him to get him to spend more time with her instead of you to him and MC having a falling out because of the things she said about you.

He laid it all out, he wasn't proud of the fact that he was so easily fooled by her. He had known her far longer than he had known you, and thought she would never lie to him, boy was he wrong.

"I admit that I have absolutely no excuse for letting myself believe her words. I can't forgive myself for the things I said that night and how I just left you there. It was all my fault."

He took your hands in his, you would've pulled them out of his reach but this time you let him hold them. You could see in his actions and in his eyes how much he regretted that night and how he had been trying everyday to make things right.

"I blame myself for your accident, if I had just stayed with you, if i had never said those words you wouldn't have ended up in this condition."

You had never really seen Caleb cry, so seeing him now in tears as his brain recounted the feeling of seeing you on that hospital bed, had your mind coming to a conclusion.

You were going to give him another chance, his one and only chance. If anything like that happens again you won't stick around, you had enough self respect to not tolerate that.

You removed yours hands from his, Caleb had a look of hurt when you did that, but it didn't last long before you cupped his face, wiping away his tears.

"You get one chance only. Mess up and you'll never see or hear from me again, got it?"

He nodded his head like a child before pulling you to the floor and onto his lap.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck as silent sobs raked his body. You ran a soothing hand through his hair to help him calm down.

It hurt to see him like this, but he also deserved it. Even if it was a fraction of the pain you went through.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, I'll do it."

His voice came out muffled, but you could feel the sincerity in it.

"I'll hold you to that."

[sleepy-little-stars]

but i don't eat green things.

synopsis: lads men with a picky eater

characters: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb

andy speaks: picky eating tendencies base on my own experiences so this is very self-indulgent (when is it not 🗿) also HIIIII icb i went back to this app after two months of radio silence RAF GOT TO ME 😞☹️ hes so gorgeous i pray i get his new myth pair in just ten pulls 🍀 gacha gods pls smile upon me 🍀🍀 (p.s maybe a little ooc for them im not too sure but!! as usual, enjoy reading !!)

XAVIER is like a vacuum. he eats everything. well, almost everything. he will eat anything edible.

oh, you don't eat your veggies? it's fine, he'll pick it out from your plate.

don't like the order you got? it's okay. he'll either switch plates with you (if you happen to be okay with his order) or he'll personally ask the chef/staff to change it to something else.

one thing he likes is when you just shove it in his mouth.

he could be minding his own business. when all of a sudden, a sudden force causes him to choke.

turns out, it was only you </3 shoving a piece of broccoli down his throat with no warning whatsover

a good partner for picky eaters! just remember to eat meat! if you're gonna feed him the food you don't like, might as well feed him the food he likes.

ZAYNE can't really talk... he can ask you to please eat your greens but that'll be hypocritical of him considering he picks out everything carrot-related.

still he knows the importance of having a balanced meal so yes, he will still ask of you to kindly eat your veggies.

if carrots are one of the things you like or tolerate, zayne is very much elated.

he'll drop the carrots into your plate like you're his pet bunny.

but if you also don't like carrots then let's just say the two of you aren't eating any dishes with carrots anytime soon.

however, i don't think he'll ask you to finish everything. he'll probably just encourage to atleast finish most of it. enough to get nutrition but not too much that you throw up.

RAFAYEL is the type to introduce you to foods that are new to your palate.

when eating out, he'll order your usual and maybe something different for him.

then he'll ask you try his food, holding out a spoon infront of you.

if you liked it, then he'll share his food with you.

if not, he'll shrug and continues eating (and chatting with you about anything, i don't think he likes eating in silence).

if you're the type of person who likes seafood but don't know/can't peel or pick them, he'll do it for you.

and if you don't like seafood? heartbreak. he'll be sad 'cause you're missing out on a paradise of flavors but he won't force you to eat it.

SYLUS knows you're a picky eater and most probably will tolerate it.

you don't want this? he'll get you something else. ask his chef to cook you something else. something that you'll enjoy eating.

is he spoiling you? yes, he is. he just wants to satisfy you, whatever it is that you want.

but if it's been days since you've had a balanced meal? he'll sit you down and feed you.

he'll pair the greens with some of your familiar dishes and give it to you in small bites.

though, most of the times, he will indulge you.

he's the type to order you nuggets and fries when out dining. (I JUST KNOW IT OKAY)

he's also the type to pay attention when you're picking.. at your food, y'know?

like you could be talking to him while scooping out the peas and pushing them to the side of your plate. and he'll be reminded of a dragon hoarding its treasure but this time, its... pushing away its treasure? can't really call it treasure, i guess.

anyways, he finds it fascinating. he finds you fascinating.

CALEB just laughs at you and for a moment, you think he'll just brush it off.

but you're wrong. because he will never forget this.

he'll ask you a few times to eat your veggies. and if you keep on refusing? caleb will have to result to other means then.

since he's the one who cooks most between you two, he'll sneak the vegetables into your dish.

but he'll do it in a way that you won't notice.

the only way you'll eat your veggies according to caleb? blend them. use the mighty food processor and immersion blender. you won't notice a thing.

do you ever find out that he sneaks vegetables into your dish? no, never. he makes sure of it.

when you're eating out, you don't have to drop anything on his plate, he'll immediately pick it out of your plate.

the type to confront the waiter/staff/cook that "uh, she didn't ask for pickles."

doesn't make you feel bad about your habits, he prefers talking about it casually.

[cosmiic-world]

i can handle it — sylus

cw: angst and fluff, stubborn and insecure reader, worried sylus, reader gets injured, inspired by death and rebirth main story update.

you were so sure you could handle it. you needed to be able to handle it. your chest rose and fell harshly as you panted for air, the huge wanderer in front of you not budging at all.

anger rose in you as you remember captain jenna’s face when you said you’d take this job. your grip on your sword tightened as her words bounced around in your head. “are you sure you can do this? it’s a two person job.”

you let out a grunt as you raised your sword, about to attack when pain suddenly blooms in your side and the sudden force makes you topple and lose your balance. before you could land on the floor, your hand caught your fall, allowing you to quickly get back up.

a wanderer had appeared behind you and you were too caught up in your own thoughts to even notice. typical. you wanted to prove to everyone that you could handle missions yourself, you were strong enough, but as always, you proved them right.

your looked down to see a deep gash on your side, quickly staining your white uniform red. your hand came down to the wound to apply pressure on it, soft whimpers escaping you as pain blossomed all over your torso.

just as you were about to raise your sword to deflect the wanderer’s attack, a red-black mist surrounds it, your eyes widening. “no.. no, no, no, no, no!” you yelled, tears springing to your eyes.

you attempted to drag your feet away from the scene, but the familiar warmth of the red-black mist surrounds you as it wraps around your limbs, holding you in place as the rest of it took care of the wanderers you almost lost your life to.

your head hung in defeat as your attempts to free yourself proved useless. you heard the crunch of gravel approaching and you didn’t even look up, not even when those familiar shoes were right in your field of vision.

without a word, his evol lifted you into his warm gentle embrace, the scent of amber and tobacco coaxing your tense muscles to relax. you melted into his arms, your tears falling silently as your body shook with your silent cries. you didn’t want to seem weak. you couldn’t. you instead buried your face into his chest, shame filling you as he carried you to the onychinus base.

once inside, he set you down on his bed. still silent, he went to grab the first aid kit that was kept in the bathroom, opening it and setting it down right beside you. as he reached for its contents, he gently moved your hand away. “darling. let me.” he said softly, his voice filling you with a sense of comfort.

“i got it..” you mumbled as you quickly grabbed the kit with a wince as more blood dripped from your wound, the motion making the pain worsen.

“you can’t even grab it without wincing, i don’t think you ‘got it’.” he said, gently grabbing the kit from you. he watched as you hung your head in defeat, your shoulders shaking. “let me do this for you.”

without another word, you gently lifted your shirt enough for the wound to be treated. you bit your lip as he applied medicine to it, supressing your whimpers of pain as he treated it with gentle fingers.

once he was done wrapping your wound, he gently carried you and pulled you against him, making you lay on his chest as he laid down on his bed. he let out a soft shaky sigh as his hand came up to play with your hair. “you don’t know how worried i was when mephisto told me you were in danger.” he said, his tone laced with a hint of worry.

“i…” you gulped down the lump in your throat, “i thought i had it..” you blinked away your tears, biting your lip before forcing yourself to look up at him. your breath hitched as your eyes met his teary ones. “i’m sorry..” you whispered out, your gaze falling down.

“it’s okay to need help, my love.” he said, gently kissing your head as it came down to rest on his chest again. “i’m here for you, always.”

“i don’t wanna be.. weak.” you mumbled out.

“you are not weak, kitten. we just need more training, and that is okay.” he said reassuringly, his fingers now idly tracing random shapes against your scalp. “call me whenever you need help. that is what i’m here for.”

“okay, sy…” you whispered out as you began to cry once again, burying your face further against his chest, almost as if you wanted to melt into him.

“i love you, kitten.” he whispered, planting the warmest, gentle kiss on your head.

“i love you too, sylus.” you whispered, closing your eyes and succumbing to sleep.

[dollyswishingwell]

I'm obsessed with your writing style!! Can I request the Love and Deepspace guys the very first time they take you shopping, wanting to spoil you and pick out pretty things for you, but you're still a little uncomfortable?

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Hesitation

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluffff, reader is a bit awkward, i promise i’ll be going through all the requests soon. i hope this is good :D

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You didn’t realise they’ve been waiting their whole life to take care of you

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You didn’t even realize where he was taking you at first. One minute, Rafayel was humming beside you in the sun-drenched car, legs loosely crossed, wrist lazily draped over his knee, then the next, you were standing in front of a boutique with marble steps and gilded trim, its window displays shimmering with silk and starlight.

You looked up at him, confused.

“I thought we were just grabbing food?”

He smiled, soft and lopsided. “We will. After.”

Your arms stayed crossed as he nudged the glass door open, the cool air inside fragrant with expensive perfume. You hesitated on the threshold like it burned. The place was pristine, curated for a kind of woman you never thought to be, draped in chiffon, light on her feet, untouched by blood or plasma discharge.

“I don’t need anything.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I want to give you something.”

He was already drifting inside, fingertips brushing lazily across a rack of pale-colored dresses like he was feeling textures of coral under the sea. His eyes were sparkling, pink and blue both. Not because he cared about the fashion. But because you were here.

You stayed by the entrance like an idiot, hand still on your belt. Rafayel turned, noting the stiffness in your shoulders. Then he padded back to you, soft, catlike steps, always a little too close.

“You look scared,” he teased gently, leaning in like he was about to share a secret. “It’s not a trap. Unless you count being emotionally manipulated by a pretty man who loves you.”

You huffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he said without flinching. “And always wearing the same six hunter outfits. They don’t even have proper pockets. Let me give you something nice. Please.”

The word please lingered in the air, rare and sincere. It made your throat tighten.

He tilted his head. “You don’t have to like it. Just try something on. For me.”

His tone was so unassuming, so earnest in its quiet request, it disarmed you. A little part of you, tired, sore, always on alert, ached to be indulgent. Just for a second.

“…Fine,” you muttered, glaring at a display dress like it personally insulted you. “But if I look stupid, I’m blaming you.”

Rafayel beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Deal. I’ll take full responsibility. Emotionally, financially, spiritually.”

He plucked the hanger and draped it gently over your arm like a crown being placed on royalty. You rolled your eyes, but didn’t shake it off.

And when you returned from the fitting room, unsure, awkward, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, he stared at you like the stars had rearranged themselves just to form your silhouette.

“…Okay?” you asked, arms slightly lifted in a self-conscious shrug.

Rafayel didn’t answer. Not with words. He just stepped forward and reached out, cupping your cheek with a reverence that made your chest hurt.

“I want to wrap you in every soft, lovely thing,” he murmured. “So the world never gets to bruise you again.”

You swallowed thickly.

“…That’s not how it works.”

He smiled sadly. “I know. But let me try anyway.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The boutique was quiet, too quiet. The kind with glass shelves, polished floors, and a single attendant too nervous to breathe loud. The walls were lined with elegant neutral palettes, coats and dresses hanging like art. You shouldn’t have been here. Not in your boots, not with your hunters permit still sticking awkwardly out from your ID.

You shot Zayne a look.

“This is a little much, isn’t it?”

He didn’t look at you, fingers trailing steadily along the hem of a soft camel coat, his expression unreadable behind silver-rimmed glasses. “You’ll need something appropriate for the hospital gala.”

“I have a black dress.”

He hummed. “The one you wore to a funeral.”

You flushed, defensive. “It’s still in good condition.”

“I’m sure it is,” Zayne said coolly, lifting the sleeve of a deep plum cashmere number and inspecting the stitching like it offended him. “But I’d rather not have the director’s wife think you’re in mourning.”

You scowled. “You said she wasn’t your type.”

“She isn’t,” he said mildly. “But I’d still rather not.”

That earned him a look. You hated shopping. It always felt… vulnerable. You weren’t used to the stillness. The hush of indulgence. You’d spent years with utility belts and reinforced boots, shopping was for people with soft hands and quiet jobs. People who didn’t deal in violence.

Zayne stepped closer, voice lower, a hand ghosting over the small of your back without quite touching.

“You don’t have to like it,” he murmured, tilting his head just slightly. “But I do want you to have something that makes you feel beautiful. Not just… armed.”

You paused.

That soft hum in his voice, that was the problem. The way he said beautiful like it was a diagnosis. Like he could see it whether or not you did. You didn’t know how to handle that.

Still, you hesitated. “…I’m not going to prance around in sequins.”

His lips tugged just faintly. “Noted. We’ll keep it understated.”

You narrowed your eyes, watching him pull a gown from a side rack. Sleek. Minimalist. No fuss. Elegant in the way he was, muted but unmistakably sharp.

He handed it to you. “Try this.”

“…What if I hate it?”

“You won’t,” he said plainly. “But if you do, I’ll find you something better.”

You stared at him, suspicious. “How do you know my size?”

“I’m a surgeon,” Zayne said flatly. “I could recreate your spine from memory.”

You blinked. Your mouth opened. Then shut.

He added, deadpan: “Don’t look so horrified. I meant that flatteringly.”

“…That wasn’t flattering.”

Zayne’s lips twitched again, like he was holding back laughter. He didn’t press. Just waited silently until you retreated into the changing room.

When you stepped out, he looked up from where he’d leaned against the edge of a display table. His eyes flicked over you once, slow, assessing, steady. No smirk. No flattery. Just… a quiet, deliberate stillness.

You shifted, uncomfortable. “Too much?”

“No,” he said simply.

You gave him a skeptical glance in the mirror. He stepped behind you, fixing the off-shoulder sleeve with a careful touch, the fabric gliding under his fingers. His scarred hands looked too rough for the material, and yet he handled it, and you, with absolute precision.

“You don’t have to wear it to the gala,” he said, his tone low, almost absentminded as he adjusted the fit on your shoulder. “But I’m buying it anyway.”

You turned to face him.

“Because it’s pretty?”

“Because you’re pretty,” he said without hesitation. “And I like watching you be reminded of it.”

That stopped your heart for half a second.

“…You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “And you’re stalling. Go change.”

You stomped back into the dressing room before he could see you blush.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You blinked up at the glittering storefront. Mannequins in flowing satin. Soft lighting. Gentle classical music humming in the background. The kind of boutique you passed without ever really seeing. Now here you were, standing just slightly to the left of Xavier, who was staring at the mannequins like they were alien lifeforms.

“…Are we lost?”

“No,” he said, almost serenely. “This is the destination.”

“…You brought me here on purpose?”

A small nod. His silver hair shimmered slightly under the soft lighting. His expression hadn’t changed since you left the train: calm, unreadable, borderline sleepy. But his hand was resting lightly against the small of your back, guiding you inside.

“I don’t need anything fancy,” you tried, already shrinking under the chandeliers. “I’ve got my uniform. I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I like seeing you wear soft things.”

That caught you off guard. You glanced at him, suspicious. “Soft things?”

He paused, thoughtful. “Like… clouds. Or the pastries you like. But on you.”

You blinked.

“…You mean dresses.”

Xavier tilted his head. “I mean things that look good when you spin in them.”

You didn’t even know what to say to that. You were still in your boots. Still carrying the tension of your last mission between your shoulders. You didn’t belong in a place like this.

As if sensing that, Xavier stepped in front of you, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was quiet, but steady. “Do you feel uncomfortable?”

“…A little.”

A beat.

“I will fix it.”

You blinked. “What—”

But he was already off, sifting through a row of garments with the exact same eerie calm he brought to dismantling illegal protocore traders. It didn’t matter if it was dress racks or combat briefings, Xavier was methodical, careful, and just slightly tilted from what was expected.

He returned with a gauzy lavender number draped over his arm. He held it out to you without a word. You stared at it.

“Try it,” he said simply.

“I’m not even sure it’s my color.”

“I am.”

You gave him a flat look. “And when did you become a fashion expert?”

“I’m not,” he said. “But I am very good at observing you.”

Your ears grew warm.

You reluctantly took the dress and disappeared into the fitting room. The whole time, you expected to look ridiculous. Like someone else entirely. But when you stepped out.

Xavier was already watching.

His expression didn’t change.

But something… softened.

He approached slowly, the tips of his fingers brushing over the hem of the dress like it might melt. Then, without a word, he reached up and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gloved fingers didn’t touch your skin. But it still made your breath hitch.

“…You approve?” you asked, trying to sound dry.

“I do not understand what others consider beautiful,” he murmured. “But I like how you look. I like how you always look.”

You stared up at him. He was still expressionless. Still strange. Still not quite human in how he moved, or spoke, or tilted his head when he looked at you like the galaxy stopped turning.

And yet, your heart squeezed.

“…You’re being really weird.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’d like to buy it for you.”

You hesitated.

He added, “You don’t have to keep it. You don’t even have to wear it. But if I imagine you spinning once in it, in a room filled with light, then it’s worth it to me.”

You looked away, ears burning.

“…Fine. But only if I get to choose something you wear next time.”

Xavier nodded solemnly. “Deal. I will wear a pastry if you ask me to.”

“What— no, Xavier—!”

Too late. He was already at the counter, wallet in hand, gently coaxing the boutique worker to wrap it in tissue.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’d expected the mission briefing. Trying out new weapoms. Maybe some recon.

You had not expected Sylus to park the car outside a luxury fashion district and say, lazily:

“Get out. We’re shopping.”

You frowned at him.

“You’re joking.”

Sylus didn’t blink. Didn’t even look at you. Just adjusted the black blazer hanging off his shoulders and tilted his head slightly, the red crow brooch catching the light.

“Do I look like I joke?”

You muttered under your breath, “You look like someone with twelve armories and no sense of moderation.”

He smirked. “And you look like someone I’d rather not have wearing knockoff tactical gear while standing next to me.”

Your glare deepened.

“I like this gear.”

“It’s functional,” Sylus said airily, guiding you toward the automatic doors with a hand at your lower back. “But function doesn’t always win wars. Sometimes presence does.”

You knew better than to argue when he was in this mood, calm, smug, and quietly plotting something three steps ahead. He wasn’t just taking you shopping. This was a statement. And you had no idea what kind.

Inside, the boutique was all mirrors and low lighting. The kind of place that didn’t display price tags, just power. A clerk stepped forward. Sylus didn’t speak to her. He just gave her a look, and she vanished into the back to fetch whatever he wanted.

You stood stiffly. He leaned against a gold-trimmed display table, watching you with idle amusement.

“I don’t need you to buy me things,” you muttered.

“I didn’t ask what you needed,” he replied smoothly. “I do what I want.”

You crossed your arms. “Why?”

That made him pause. His red eyes flicked toward you, sharp and gleaming. Then, softly:

“Because I like the idea of you wrapped in luxury. Because I enjoy watching you realize how easily you could own every room you walk into.”

A beat. Then he added with a smirk:

“And because I’m shallow and get bored. So this is also entertainment.”

You scowled.

Moments later, the clerk returned with gowns, gloves, heels, even jewelry, rich reds, deep blacks, all materials that shimmered like oil or bled like wine. Sylus didn’t touch a single one. He just looked at you expectantly.

“No way,” you said, hands raised. “I’m not trying those on.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a hunter, not—”

“Not what?” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Not someone who deserves to be admired? To feel powerful in ways that don’t involve blood or bullets?”

You froze.

Sylus smiled, slow and knowing.

“Let me rephrase,” he said softly. “Go try them on. Or I’ll carry you to the fitting room myself.”

Your stomach flipped.

You grabbed the nearest piece and fled.

When you stepped out again, blood-red velvet, cut close and dangerous, Sylus’s expression didn’t shift. But his gaze burned. He tilted his head slightly, his tongue pressing lightly to the inside of his cheek, almost like he was savoring something.

“Well,” he said at last, voice low. “Look at you.”

“…Too much?” you asked stiffly.

“No,” he murmured. “It’s perfect.”

You swallowed. “I’m not used to this.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why we’re practicing.”

You blinked.

He stepped closer. Lowered his voice. “One day, you’re going to rule rooms like this. You’ll walk into a place like this, and no one will question the cost of anything. They’ll ask if it pleases you. And I’ll be the one standing behind you, amused.”

Your heart stuttered.

“…You think I’ll be like that?”

“I think,” Sylus said, reaching up to adjust a strap with slow, calculated fingers, “that you already are. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

You stared at him.

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your cheek like he was crowning you with it.

“Now pick a few,” he murmured. “Before I lose patience and buy out the store.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You were supposed to be getting parts. Weapons. Something for your mission. Not… standing awkwardly in front of a boutique window while Caleb stood beside you, hands in his pockets, watching you like you were the only star in the sky.

“I don’t need anything,” you muttered.

“I know,” he said softly, “but I want to give you something anyway.”

You turned to him, skeptical. “Why?”

Caleb smiled. Not the playful grin you remembered from childhood, but a softer, grown-up version. Sadder. Warmer. More dangerous.

“You work hard. You never ask for anything. You always think you have to handle everything alone.” He tilted his head. “Let me spoil you, just this once.”

You glanced at the boutique. Soft lighting. Silks and crystals and delicate things you’d never wear in a cockpit. Not your world.

“I’m not the type to wear stuff like this.”

Caleb stepped closer. You felt it before you saw it, the sudden change in pressure, the weight of his presence, like his Gravity Evol was always humming just beneath the surface, calibrated just for you.

“You don’t have to be,” he said quietly. “You’re you. That’s all I want.”

You hesitated.

And then, just like he used to do when you were kids, he reached out, tugged your sleeve lightly, and leaned in with a teasing whisper, “C’mon. You didn’t say no when I bought you five extra sticker packs that summer, remember?”

You blinked at him. “You told Gran they were on sale.”

“They were. Emotionally.”

You laughed despite yourself, and Caleb’s smile brightened. Not cocky. Not smug. Just sincere.

And before you could stop him, he was gently guiding you through the door, palm on your back, already talking to the assistant about “something soft, something pretty, something in her color.” The way he said it made your skin burn.

Inside, you tried to retreat, but Caleb was persistent in the way only he could be. Not pushy. Just present. Patient. Like he knew how many steps it would take for you to give in.

He held up a deep plum piece, simple but elegant, and tilted his head.

“I think this one’s pretty,” he murmured. “It matches your eyes.”

“…Yours are purple,” you pointed out.

He smiled again, and this time, there was heat behind it. “Exactly.”

You snatched the outfit from his hand and stormed off to the changing room just to get away from the flutter in your chest.

When you stepped out, uncomfortable and tugging at the fabric, he was already sitting there, waiting. Legs spread, one arm draped over the chair, dark brown hair slightly tousled from his flight jacket.

His gaze traveled down your body slowly, taking in everything.

“…You like it?” you asked, fidgeting.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just stood, walked over, and reached to fix the collar.

“I love it,” he said, voice low. “But I’d love it more if you didn’t look like you were about to bolt.”

“I’m not used to—”

“I know,” he cut in gently, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “But I’m going to keep doing this. Slowly. Until you believe it’s okay to let me take care of you.”

Your heart thudded.

He looked down at you, purple eyes glowing softly.

“Because I always have,” he whispered. “I always will.”

And when the assistant brought out a pair of heels that matched perfectly, Caleb took them from her hands, crouched in front of you, and, before you could even protest, slipped one on with the same calm focus he used when piloting his favourite aircraft.

“…Cinderella moment?” you asked, flustered.

“Mm,” he smiled, still crouched. “No. My girl doesn’t need saving. But she deserves everything beautiful.”

[adeptustemptations]

"I pledged to love you."

(wc. 1.4k) You feel as if you're worthless lately, struggling to complete daily tasks, unable to finish some, or perhaps just instantly lose motivation to do them. To other people's eyes, your family was picture perfect, and to you? you felt like you were failing everyone.

pairings: sylus, fem!reader genre: angst w comfort c:, reader is married w kids

a/n: short read! it's my first time writing for him (or lads in general), so i hope i was able to capture how he'd act with her :D

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, bathing the place you called home in gold in its glory. And yet, all you could feel was grey.

You stood in front of the sink, staring blankly at a half washed plate beneath your trembling hands. Your hands had started to prune from the water, the suds clinging to your skin now just a reminder of how long you’d been frozen in place. 

Somewhere behind you, the laughter of your children echoed faintly from the hallway. It should’ve brought a smile to your face. Once upon a time, it did. 

Now, it only made the weight in your chest heavier.

You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears, but they slipped out anyway. The sting was quiet. Soft. You didn’t sob. Didn’t fall to your knees in dramatics. You just stood there, barely breathing, feeling like you were slowly breaking apart from the inside out.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with me,” you whispered to no one.

You used to handle this. The cleaning, the cooking, the kids’ tantrums, the endless laundry. You used to manage all of it while still having energy left over to kiss Sylus when he walked through the door, to laugh with him on the couch at something cheesy that he says, to feel... like a person.

Now, everything felt like a fight.

Not with him. God. Never with him.

With yourself.

The kids were being too loud again. You knew they were just playing; your daughter chasing her brother around with a plush sword, but the sound grated on your nerves like nails on glass.

“Stop it! Both of you, just stop!” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

The silence that followed was deafening. Your son looked up at you with wide eyes, and your daughter’s bottom lip trembled as she slowly lowered the toy. Your chest constricted. You hadn't yelled like that in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, softer now, rushing over and gathering them in your arms. “I didn’t mean it, babies. Mommy’s just tired, okay? I’m sorry.”

They nodded, but the damage was done. They were cautious with you for the rest of the afternoon. And that made it worse.

You barely heard Sylus come in. It was only the sound of his leather shoes being kicked off and his soft humming–always a tune from a song he made up, that made you turn. He was already loosening his tie, already smiling. But the smile faded the moment his eyes met yours.

“Sweetheart?” he said gently, as if approaching a startled animal. “You okay?”

You tried to speak. Failed.

Instead, you turned back to the sink, scrubbing the plate a little too hard, knuckles white. “Yeah,” you managed, voice thin. “Just tired.”

Sylus didn’t press, not yet. He knew better than to push when your walls were up. He walked behind you, kissed the top of your head, and murmured, “I’ll take the kids outside for a bit. You rest.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The door clicked shut minutes later.

Silence encompassed the house. Peaceful. Quiet. 

And then you collapsed to your knees.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there on the cold tile floor, arms wrapped around yourself, tears streaming down your face in silence. The self-hatred felt like acid in your throat. Why couldn’t you just be okay? Why couldn’t you pull it together? Your kids deserved more. Sylus deserved better.

It wasn’t just today.

You’d forgotten your son’s field trip last week. He'd come home disappointed, asking why you didn’t pack his favorite sandwich like you promised.

"I'm sorry, baby," You say, your hands shaking as you gently hold onto his shoulders, "Mommy forgot."

You said you’d take your daughter to the bookstore on Sunday. She waited by the door with her little purse and shoes on for nearly an hour before Sylus gently coaxed her away, murmuring that “Mommy must have fallen asleep.” You had.

And the worst part? You didn't even realize until the next day. Mommy did forget.

Dinner was another disaster. You tried. God, you tried. You followed the recipe exactly, but halfway through you got distracted when your daughter spilled juice across the floor, and then your son started crying because he thought he’d lost his toy, and the food..

The food burned.

The smoke detector didn’t even go off. The shame did.

You stared at the pan, blackened and useless, and your heart twisted violently. You felt like you were failing at everything. Even something as simple as a meal. Sylus got home right as you were throwing the pan into the sink. You turned away from him, ashamed.

But then it got worse.

As you turned, your elbow knocked into the mug, that mug. The one Luke and Kieran gave him on his birthday. It had the words 'WORLD'S BEST BOSSMAN' handpainted on it, something messily made, but Sylus treasured it like it was priceless.

You watched it fall.

Watched it hit the tile.

Watched it break.

“Oh God,” you whispered. “No no no-"

You dropped to your knees, frantic hands reaching for the pieces when- 

“Stop.” Sylus’s voice was soft but firm, and you felt his hand close around your wrist. 

“You’ll cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry–I didn’t mean–God, I didn’t mean to–"

“Y/N,” he said again, kneeling beside you. His thumb brushed along your wrist gently. “It’s just a mug. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” you choked out, the tears falling again. “I mess everything up. I-I burn the food, I forget things, I break things. I’m not the same person anymore, Sylus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You didn’t marry this.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you. You tried to hide your face, ashamed, but he wouldn’t let you. His hand moved to your chin, tilting it up, his crimson eyes searching yours.

“You think I’m here for perfection?” he said, voice low. “You think I married you because you always got everything right?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your breath hitched when his palm cupped your cheek.

“I married you,” he said slowly, like each word was sacred. “Because you have the kindest heart I’ve ever known. Because even when you’re hurting, you put everyone else first. Because you’re strong even when you feel weak. Because you’re you.”

You sobbed, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, letting everything spill out at last.

“I feel so lost,” you whispered. “I wake up and I already want to cry. I feel like I’m drowning in a life I used to be able to swim through just fine. I yelled at the kids the other day, I forgot so many things I promised them. What kind of mother–what kind of wife–"

“One who’s human,” he whispered, holding you tighter. “One who’s overwhelmed. One who’s been trying to carry everything on her shoulders without asking for help.”

“But I didn’t want to be a weight to you,” you cried. “You already handle so much, Onychinus, and now I’m–"

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he said, pulling back to look at you again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Don’t ever call yourself a burden. You’re the reason I get up every day. You and the kids? You’re my entire world. If something is hurting you, I want to carry it with you, not because I have to. Because I want to.”

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you felt something crack inside you, not in a bad way. It was like the first breath after being underwater for too long.

“I pledged to love you,” Sylus murmured, brushing a tear from your cheek, “not just when things are easy, but when you’re breaking. When the light in your eyes fades. When the smile doesn’t come easy. That’s when you need me the most. And I’m here.”

You clung to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you,” you whispered. “I don’t feel like I deserve you right now, but I love you.”

He smiled against your temple. “I know you do. And I’ll keep reminding you every day that you deserve love, rest, patience, everything.”

The broken mug remained in the trash, forgotten. Dinner was replaced with takeout and quiet laughter on the couch as your kids dozed off nearby.

But something inside you had shifted.

You weren’t better yet. Not completely.

But for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel alone in it.

Sylus had reached for you, even while asleep, even when your thoughts were loud and cruel and dark. Even then, he’d found you.

And that meant... maybe, just maybe, you could find yourself again too.

[luvvannie]

NEPO-BABY -> sylus

syn. you make the mistake of mentioning to sylus that you want to move.

gen. fluff..

a/n. yall idk if i like this one tbh T^T honestly just posting for the sake of posting bc i don't have the time nor the energy to write these days with how many assessments i've had to study for but ITS OKAY!! the next one will be good trust

cmts + rbgs are super duper appreciated !! :D

sylus and you had been on your usual bedtime phone call when you mentioned you were thinking of looking for a new apartment. you told him about some minor issues around your current place. the water pressure in the shower was weak, and it wasn't too helpful after a long day of hunting and sore joints. the living room windows were jammed and didn't close all the way, and it made the winter unbearable. the signal in this busy part of the city wasn't good either, it took a good minute for you to call or text. and there was plenty more for you to complain about.

as you rattled off your grievances, sylus hummed on the other end, though it sounded absentminded. he was probably half-asleep. you had a tendency to talk his ear off before bed, and he had a tendency to let you.

a few minutes later, your complaints trailed off, and his voice—deep, smooth, laced with drowsiness—cut through the silence. "you sound tired, sweetie . go to sleep."

you pouted, shifting under the covers. you were on a roll. you had at least five more things to complain about, "but-!"

"goodnight. love you."

click! he hung up.

you huffed, looking at your phone screen, before shutting it off and laying back, closing your eyes and drifting off.

the next morning, you had the day off. you scrolled through your phone as you ate breakfast, only to pause mid-bite at a notification from sylus.

an... apartment complex?

your eyebrows furrowed as you opened the message.

you recognised that place almost instantly. it was probably the most prestigious housing in the fancy side of linkon. the side where security guards stood outside every shop and ladies in expensive dresses and pearl necklaces drank tea with their pinkies out in their gigantic penthouses while their husbands were at work. you'd dreamt of living there and being one of those ladies on your off days since you were a little girl.

you responded with multiple questions.

💬 y/n: -> huh?

💬 y/n: -> why are u sending me this?

💬 y/n: -> do u have the wrong number baby?

💬 sylus: -> no

💬 sylus: -> come.

come?

you were confused out of your mind, staring at the screen in bewilderment. what the hell was he up to? maybe sylus had another one of those meetings with some important person and needed you... for whatever reason. you finished the rest of your breakfast and got dressed, heading over to the apartment complex in his message.

when you arrived at the lobby, you found sylus speaking to someone at the front desk. his presence alone seemed to unnerve the poor receptionist, who fumbled with the keyboard as sylus glanced over at you.

his hand found its place on your lower back as you stopped beside him. "is it ready?"

the receptionist nodded—perhaps a little too quickly—before handing over a keycard.

sylus took the card, giving it to you as you blinked at him with confusion. "and all the adjustments i requested?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"y-yes, mr. sylus! everything has been completed."

he hummed in approval, turning around and bringing you to the elevator, the security nodding their heads at him respectfully. as he pressed the button to the top floor, the doors slowly shut, and you were finally given the opportunity to question him.

"what's going on? what are we doing here?"

he smirked.

no, not the smirk...

"hello?!"

the elevator dinged, and the doors opened again, and before you could press him any further he began walking down the hall ahead of you in long strides as you followed behind him like some little duckling, struggling to catch up. he stopped at the end, motioning for you to scan your keycard on the door. you grumble at him, but do so, and then he enters a password, and it unlocks.

you step into a huge, fully furnished apartment, looking around curiously. it looked untouched, like some display house. the furniture was really pretty too. it was all in your favourite colour, and you even noticed some paintings and posters from your favourite artists.

you turned back at him, "who lives here? it's really nice!"

he smirked, looking way too pleased with himself "you do."

your eyebrows furrowed, not quite catching on, "no i don't."

"well, you're holding the key, aren't you sweetie?"

the rest of the day was a whirlwind. or rather, his men handled the whirlwind while you stood there in shock, directing where you wanted things placed.

sylus had, in a single night, secured one of the most expensive apartments in the city—fully paid, fully furnished, and customised to your exact tastes. it was almost terrifying how well he knew you.

and those "adjustments" you overheard earlier? oh, he wasn’t playing around. adjustable water pressure and massage jets in the bath. upgraded heating throughout the entire place. a separate service line just for you.

amongst other things.

a few weeks passed in the new place, and you loved it. it was like a dream come true.

though you did notice something odd.

the workers, the security guards, even the neighbours—all of them treated you with an almost reverent level of politeness. a doorman scrambled to open the lobby doors for you before you even reached them. a boutique owner refused to let you pay for a dress, smiling nervously as she insisted it was on the house.

it was strange.

and then one night, sylus was over for dinner, and it clicked. you put your chopsticks down, "y-you..!"

sylus looked to you with a raised eyebrow, "yes?"

"that's why people have been so nice to me! you bribed them."

his lips curled into a lazy smirk, "bribed is such a strong word, kitten."

oh. god.

you groaned, burying your face in your hands, "i'm a nepo-baby!"

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Big Girls Cry Too"

The LADS Men walking in on you having a good cry after bottling everything up and that one bad day at work was the final straw. Look even the baddest bitches cry doesn’t change the fact that mc (all of us) is still the baddest. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

Zayne: Are you hurt?

MC: I'm just tired

Zayne: Did you not sleep well last night?

MC: Mentally Zayne im just.....I don't know

Zayne: Talk to me what’s troubling you?

MC: I can’t find the words

Zayne: Well then just say anything I'll piece it together as you go

MC: I just .... I feel so ..... but I can't .. and today was just ..... I don't know

Zayne: You're just overworking yourself to keep your mind off your grandma and Caleb but you want a break however you can't seem to catch one and today was the straw that broke the camels back?

MC: What are you a mind reader?

Zayne: No I'm an MC reader

He would sit with you and hold you in his arms while you were a blubbering mess.

Zayne: I'll stay right here for as long as you need

Rafayel

Rafayel: I told you to stop abandoning me for that place look what its done to you

MC: Not now Raf im tired

Rafayel: I know

MC: So stop making jokes

Rafayel: Do you want to talk about it?

MC: No

Rafayel: Do you want me to leave?

MC: *sniffles* No

Rafayel: Good I wasn’t going to *throws you over his shoulder*

MC: Where are we going?!

Rafayel: For a swim it always makes me feel better

MC: I just want to lay in bed

Rafayel: Trust me a dip in the water with me is like free therapy

MC: ….

Rafayel: You trust me?

MC: I trust you

Rafayel: Good I'll do anything to see those tears stop

MC: You’re too good to me

Rafayel: Next time you need to cry call me … I have two shoulders just for you

Xavier

Xavier: Who upset you?

MC: Everything

Xavier: I can’t fight everything

MC: Why not I’m tired of it all

Xavier: What’s going on?

MC: I just need a good cry from time to time

Xavier: How often is ‘time to time’

MC: …..twice a week

Xavier: Come here

MC: *lays on top of Xavier as he rubs your back*

Xavier: Feeling better?

MC: actually ….. yea …. Is this why you lay on me all the time?

Xavier: You’re like a human battery recharger … my personal charger

MC: Are you sad every time ?

Xavier: Not every time but sometimes

MC: Oh I never noticed

Xavier: That’s because being around you makes me happy

MC: Can I lay here for a while ….. please

Xavier: Will that make you happy?

MC: *sniffles & nods*

Xavier: I’ll be your human body pillow whenever you want

Sylus

Sylus: Are you crying?

MC: *sniffles* no

Sylus: You’re a terrible liar sweetie

MC: I had a tough day at work

Sylus: A tough day at work huh?

MC: ….yea

Sylus: Sweetie it’s okay to cry in front of me I know you’ve been bottling up your emotions

MC: You don’t know anything

Sylus: I know this will help *Starts giving you a scalp massage*

MC: You don’t know if it’s helping …… but don’t stop

Sylus: I didn’t plan to …. come here

Sylus takes a seat on the bed and moves you to straddle his lap. You lay your head on his shoulder while he continues to massage your scalp with one hand and rub your back with the other.

MC: Don’t you have work to do?

Sylus: You are always a top priority princess

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Only one call away

Pairing: Sylus x fem! Mc

Warnings: crying, hurt/comfort, soft! Sylus

Genre: fluff!!

Summary: Even when you’re home, you still work. When it gets overwhelming, you decide to call Sylus who drops everything to take care of you.

Ugh I love me a good domesticated Sylus. Self-indulgent fic hehe.

I’m taking requests if you guys wanna see more <3

The phone sits heavy in your hands, thumb hovering over the call button.

Your eyes scan over your desk littered with various reports and the bright blue light your laptop emits stings your eyes after hours of working.

I never should have told Captain Jenna I’d have these done by tomorrow….

You curse your past self for the confidence of taking on too much work at once.

Rubbing the impending migraine through your temples, you release a sigh.

Just call him.

Your thumb presses the button without another thought and you lazily bring the phone to your ear. The phone barely rings twice before he answers, his deep honeyed voice drawling his usual charm.

“I was wondering when you were going to call me, kitten. I almost thought you forgot about me.” Theres a playful bite to his words.

“Hey,” you drag out the greeting. resting your head on your arm. “Whatcha doing?”

There’s muffled noises in the background.

“Nothing important, just taking care of some business, as usual.” Sylus says before his voice grows faint over the line. You can hear him ordering around the twins and the muffled pops of gunfire reaches your ears. “How’s your night, sweetie?”

You stay quiet for a few seconds, not really sure if you should play off your stress or give in. Your fingers fidget anxiously with the corner of one of the reports.

“You still with me?”

You nod as you’re pulled from your thoughts. “Yeah sorry, what did you say?”

Sylus’s chuckle rumbles through the line. “Your night- is it going well?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you struggle to stop the tears from welling in your eyes.

“I-it’s fine.”

Sylus frowns at the crack in your voice. His expression hardens at the emotion clinging to your words. More bullets whizz by him and he rolls his eyes.

“What’s going on, sweetie? Everything okay?” He asks with concern. Sylus places the phone between his ear and shoulder as he empties the chamber of his gun for a new magazine. “Talk to me.”

You let out a small sob, your emotions finally taking over as the stress weighs heavy on your shoulders. You miss his voice, his comforting words, him.

Sylus fires at his rivals with a snarl at your cries coming from his phone. Right now, they’re the only thing standing in the way of seeing you.

“Sweetie,” his tone is more urgent, a note of frustration too, just begging you to tell him what’s bothering you to the point of tears.

“I’m sorry,” you wipe at your eyes. “I’m just overwhelmed. I wanted to hear your voice. I didn’t know you were busy, I’m sorry-”

“If you hang up the phone- so help me, kitten.” Theres another pause as the twins laugh in the background.

“Headshot!”

“Where’s the confetti?”

Even through your tears, you fight the urge to smile at their comments.

“No, it’s just work. I’m supposed to finish like five reports by tomorrow, and I overestimated how much I thought I could do.”

“Well, how much more do you have to do?” He asks.

You glance over the scattered papers with disgust, lips curling up in distaste. “I’m only halfway done, it’s already taken me like three hours.”

There’s grunting over the line.

“Stay put, kitten. Wipe your tears for me and take a break, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Sylus says.

Your eyes widen. The last thing you wanted to do was interrupt his own work. “No, Sy, it’s okay. I just wanted to hear your voice-”

Sylus laughs over as a man shouting in pain. “You can hear it again… in person. Twenty minutes.”

The line clicks dead. Your phone hovers above your ear and you stare at it in disbelief. Sighing, you get out of the hard wooden chair and stretch your sore muscles. Its not like you had today off either, no you still worked the past five day and hadn’t given your body or mind proper time to recover.

Wiping the last of your tears, you shuffle the papers together neatly and try to tidy your apartment as best as you can before Sylus arrives. The dirty dishes are thrown hastily into your sink as a way to pretend they don’t exist, which they don’t right now. Your stomach growls angrily and you turn to rummage through your fridge.

“No food…” you frown at the half empty carton of milk, ketchup, and string cheese sitting lonesome on the shelves. Releasing a groan, you decide maybe to just change and freshen up instead.

Entering your bedroom, your eyes fall to the overflowing basket of dirty laundry sitting idly in the corner.

Oh shit. You were out of clean uniforms for tomorrow too.

“Fuck me.” You whisper in frustration, trying to keep your emotions at bay once again. The familiar sting enters your eyes again and you rub the bridge of your nose and take deep breaths to calm down.

A low chuckle rings out behind you.

“As tempting as that sounds, kitten, I don’t think now is the best time for that.”

Sylus stands tall behind you with his cocky smirk. His clothes were disheveled and wrinkled slightly from dealing with the idiots in the N109 zone.

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“My kitten needed me.”

He lets out a breath of shock as your arms quickly and tightly wrap around his torso. Your face is pressed into his silk shirt that was no doubt stained with blood. A teasing quip hangs on his tongue, but he swallows the words once he sees the slight tremble in your shoulders and feels the wetness on his shirt. Ever so gently, his arms wrap around your figure, one hand cradles the back of your head while the other slides up and down your back.

He dips his head down and his lips brush against your hairline, giving it a soft peck. “Did you overdo it again?”

You nod into his chest and sniffle.

“Alright.” Sylus bends down slightly and lifts your body into his arms. His forearm resting underneath the back of your thighs as the other brushes the stray pieces of hair away from your face. He walks to your bathroom and sets you on the counter while he turns on the shower.

“Sy, I don’t have any clean clothes.” You say, a bit embarrassed at admitting you haven’t been able to take care of yourself.

He only hums in response before his large frame disappears into your closet, remembering to duck his head this time. Sylus comes back holding a small duffel bag. Something he stored in your apartment a while ago; for emergencies, sleepovers, and anytime you missed him.

“Lucky for you, I do.” Sylus says and drops it on your bed. He starts to unbutton his shirt and tosses it to the floor. He comes up to you, his large fingers dipping underneath the hem of your old t-shirt. When you nod, he proceeds to lift it up and discard it with his. You hop off the counter and you both strip the rest of your clothes.

The warm water sprays across your bodies and the hot steam crawls up the shower door and mirror. Sylus stands behind you and runs a soapy loofah over your body. You hum in contentment as his large hands massage your hips and trail up your body.

There’s a soft click and you feel something drip on your head. Sylus places the shampoo bottle back on the holder and massages the thick liquid into your scalp. Your head falls back against his chest and his hand occasionally swipes across your forehead to prevent the suds from getting in your eyes. He repeats it with the conditioner on the tips of your hair.

Once Sylus makes sure the blood and stress is washed away, he wraps his arms around you once more, tilting your chin up to face him. His lips lower down to meet yours in a chaste kiss.

The kiss was nothing sexual, purely a reminder that he’s there. That you don’t have to struggle alone.

Sylus turns off the shower and wraps you in a towel before tying another one on his waist. He ushers you out into the bedroom and rummages through the duffel bag lying on your bed; cologne, accessories, and extra clothes. He tosses you his large grey sweater and your eyes light up at seeing the familiar piece of clothing.

Once you’re both dressed, he sits behind you on your bed and dries your hair with a towel.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, voice breaking the silence.

You slowly nod and your stomach grumbles loudly too. Perfect. Sylus takes your hand and leads you to the kitchen and starts rummaging through your cabinets. He lets out a low hum in dismay at seeing the bare cupboards.

“I’ll order in something for us. Are you craving anything?” His phone is already out, swiping through the food delivery app.

When his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself getting shy again. You play with a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater.

“Maybe that ramen place in the southern district? You like that last time we had it, right?”

You nod.

Sylus orders the food and leads you back to the table where the reports lay.

“We’ll work some more. Then when the food gets here, we’ll stop to eat and continue again. Sound good?”

Again you nod.

“I miss that voice of yours, kitten.” His knee bumps yours under the table.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

“Okay.”

“There she is.”

—

You managed to get another report out of the way by the time the food arrived.

Sylus dragged you over to the couch and put on a show he knew you liked while the two of you ate. When you both finished, your bellies were full and Sylus pulled you back into his chest to relax while you waiting for the episode to end.

His arms is snug around your shoulders, his fingers rubbing over your arm. Your eyes start to flutter shut and Sylus chuckles before tapping your nose lightly.

“No, no. Not yet, sweetie.” He gently pulls you off of him and stands up, holding a hand out to you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner you can sleep.”

You groan dramatically, wishing anything to just curl into his arms for the night and sleep for the next week.

“Five more minutes?” You plead and give him your best puppy dog eyes.

“No.”

“Ugh.”

And so Sylus helps you get back into your rhythm. He helps you as best as he can and gives you encouragement when you need it.

Then another report is finished.

And finally, the last one is done.

You lean back in your chair and stretch your back once you’ve submitted the final report to Jenna.

“Now I can sleep.”

“Now you can.” Sylus gives you a smile.

Closing your laptop, you shuffle all the papers together and head for your bedroom with your fingers interlocked with Sylus’s.

He fluffs your pillows and straightens out the blankets before he lets you get in.

Now here you are, laying down on Sylus as he scrolls through his phone. His other arm is secured tightly around you as his thumb grazes your hip. Even though you’re painfully tired, you almost try to stay awake to savor the peaceful moment with your lover.

However, the exhaustion catches up with you and your eyes fall shut and your breathing evens out.

“Good night, kitten.”

—

The next morning comes and you groan as your body wakes up. Your hand goes to reach for Sylus but when you feel the empty space, you sit up and rub your eyes in confusion.

He was gone.

Frowning, you pull the covers off and step into your fluffy slippers. The apartment looked the same, but still no sign of Sylus.

Your eyes flicker to the kitchen and you do a double take when you see the sink is clear. Not a dirty dish in sight.

“Huh?”

You walk to the drawers and pull one open to see all your cutlery is put away nicely. You let out a smile when you realize Sylus did the dishes for you.

Your eyes catch a pink heart-shaped sticky note on your fridge.

Open me.

Opening the fridge, you gasp when you see it’s completely stocked. Different proteins, fruits, condiments, and vegetables neatly stacked the shelves.

A chime suddenly rings out through your apartment. The dryer.

There’s no way he did your laundry too. Your heart flutters at the gestures he did for you.

The front door opens and closes and you finally see your scary-looking boyfriend holding a tray of two coffees and a small paper brown bag.

“Oh, I was hoping to be back before you woke up.” Sylus says as he holds out the food. “I got us breakfast.”

You take the coffee and glance at the sticker. The customization is exactly how you like it.

“I also got us some muffins,” Sylus trails off when he sees your expression. Your lip wobbles and you cover your face with your hands as you start crying.

“Sweetie, I was hoping to get rid of the tears, not bring new ones on.” He sets the bag and down and quickly pulls you into his arms.

“You bought me groceries.” You cried.

“I did.”

“And did my dishes.”

“Of course.”

“And my laundry…”

“That was fun.”

You choke out a laugh and sniffle. “I’m just so thankful to have you in my life, Sy. Thank you for helping me.”

His hand brushes through your hair and he places a kiss on top of your head.

“Of course, kitten. We all get a little overwhelmed, I just need you to remember to ask me for help when you need it.”

You nod and wipe your eyes.

“But you never ask me for help when you get overwhelmed.”

Sylus scoffs.

“I deal with the twins 24/7 and you think I don’t get overwhelmed? That’s why I have Mephisto spy on you most of the time, I can check in on you whenever I want and knowing I have you in my life calms me down.”

“Aww, Sylus.” You coo and lift your hand to brush your thumb against his cheek.

Your phone pings on the counter and you briefly pull away to look at the notification. “Oh, it’s from Jenna.”

You’re silent as your eyes skim over the email she sent you, even rereading the words over and over again.

“No way.” You gasp, returning your eyes to Sylus’s crimson ones with a bright smile. “She told me the reports looked great and as long as I’m on call, I don’t have to go in today.”

“That’s amazing, sweetie.” Sylus brushes your messy hair away from your eyes. “What are you going to do today?”

You let out a content sigh and grab your coffee.

“Absolutely nothing, I’m just gonna sit in bed and relax.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Do you mind if I join you? It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

You notice his tired eyes and momentarily forgot he sleeps during the day like a vampire.

“Yeah! C’mon I’ll tuck you in.”

And the rest of day was spent with you tucked in bed catching up on relaxation while Sylus was sound asleep next to you with soft snores escaping him.