bisousie

[bisousie]

corn cobbin'. | sylus and his mama

hellooooo!! a cute little piece for mother's day ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و since i got a lot of positive feedback on my last one with sylus and his mama, i really wanted to write more about them! so i hope you enjoy!

again, i am no writer. just for giggles.

do not put my writings into ai, thank you.

xxox

549 words

BABY MINE by betty noyes

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 1:18

if they knew sweet little you, they'd end up loving you too, all those same people who scold you.

She could not speak to him—not the way he needed.

Her throat was not built for human syllables. She had tried, once, when he was still small enough to nest in the curl of her claw. Forced air through her massive lungs and twisted her tongue against her teeth until something like his name wheezed out, broken and wrong. It had frightened him.

So she stopped.

She watched him grow in silence, her language made of motion and breath, of scale-press and shadow-shelter. Love shown in the way she curled her tail just so around his sleeping place, or how she warmed his hands between her nostrils and teeth during cold nights. A nudge to wake. A trill to soothe. A long sigh to say I see you.

He’d learned to mimic. She didn’t know from where—birds, probably, or foxes. Sometimes he chirped like wind in leaves. Sometimes like something older. She’d tilt her head when he did it, and he’d beam like the sun was inside him.

But not today.

Today he sat beneath her wing with his arms wrapped around himself, face turned away, his little sounds missing like a song swallowed by fog. He hadn’t chirped since the others came— all winged, crowned in horn and smoke. They had spoken with fire in their throats. Their words were old, sharp-edged, full of insult and scorn. And though her son couldn’t understand the meaning, he felt it. He always did.

She could have burned them for it. Should have. But instead, she let them leave.

And now he wouldn’t look at her.

So she waited, curled around the hollow, watching with her breath held still. Until finally, she moved.

He didn’t flinch when she nudged him. Didn’t lean into her nose. Didn’t blink when her breath ruffled his hair.

That hurt the most.

She nosed lower. Tugged at his tunic. Got no answer.

So she did the only thing she could do.

She corn-cobbed him.

Carefully—lovingly—she opened her jaw and nibbled along his ribs, just where his skin was softest. Just where he always squeaked. She scraped her teeth in tiny rows, barely brushing his shirt, stopping every few beats like a question.

And then—

That sound.

His laughter burst out of him like water through stone. A laugh from deep in his belly, huge and wild and free. He curled forward, gasping and kicking weakly at her nose, his arms batting uselessly at the air. She rumbled, a sound like thunder curling in her throat.

Then she purred.

Not just a hum—this was deeper, older. The sound of molten stone shifting beneath the crust of the world. A lullaby only dragons knew. It turned into a trill, a song her kind only used for hatchlings.

She hadn’t used it in years.

His laughter softened, turning wet at the edges. He buried his face against her muzzle, hiccupping, breathless. But he smiled.

And she—ancient, voiceless, scaled and scarred—pressed her snout to his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Memorized the rhythm. Matched it with her own.

He would never speak her language.

But he was hers. And in every touch, every hum, every bone-deep vibration of her voice, she would say it:

You are loved. You are mine. I do not need words to tell you that.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

[bisousie]

honestly, sylus at this point:

MC: Do you like me or like like me?

Sylus: However many likes it takes to get you to come work for Onychinus.

[bisousie]

thank you for all your hard work sylus ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

i just know that Sylus’ shoulder to waist ratio is what keeps the world from falling apart, cures diseases, prevents catastrophes, and brings even the fiercest enemies to peace

[bisousie]

MR AND MRS SMITH BUT SYLUSMC

has anyone had this thought yet? if there is a fic of this out there or the vibe plsplsplsplspls send it to me !! (ㅅ´ ˘ `) xx

[bisousie]

spoil you. | sylus qin x fem! reader

this was supposed to be something more but i forgor what i wanted it to be lmao ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

i think the premise was basically the plot of pretty woman meets a spy movie lol enjoy anyways! i am no writer!! just for funsies <3

513 words

xoxx

“I don’t have to work for my dinner?” she asked, voice light, but her tone was edged with something else—something fragile beneath the playfulness. Her fingers drifted up his chest, slow and searching, brushing over the metal buttons of his shirt with a touch that trembled ever so slightly. The adrenaline hadn’t quite burned off yet, and neither had the worry. Her hand paused near his collarbone, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her palm like proof he was still here.

She tilted her head to look up at him, the ends of her hair brushing his arm, and caught his crimson gaze through the curtain of her thick, dark lashes. Her doe-like eyes, wide and gleaming, shimmered with mischief—but there was something else flickering there too. Relief. Fear. Fierce affection she didn’t yet have the words for.

Sylus let out a deep, low laugh, rich as aged wine, but this time it carried more than just amusement. It rumbled from his chest and settled into the space between them, grounding her. His hands came up to catch hers, enclosing her delicate fingers in his rougher grasp as if anchoring them both. “Work?” he echoed, the word tasting ridiculous on his tongue after everything they’d just come through. He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing slow, reverent kisses against each of her knuckles. His breath was warm against her skin, chasing away the lingering cold that still clung to her fingertips. “I want to spoil you in a way that makes you forget the word even exists.”

She stared at him for a beat too long, her breath catching at the sincerity buried in his voice. For a man so feared, so calculated, there was nothing guarded about him now. He was laid bare in the way he looked at her, as if her existence steadied him more than any weapon ever could.

But she didn’t want to be the only one held, the only one saved.

A subtle shift moved through her features—something soft and defiant all at once. Her fingers curled lightly in his hold, not to resist, but to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to spill out all at once. “And what if I want to spoil you?” she murmured, her voice low but sure, blooming with quiet intensity. “Cover you in so much affection it leaves no room for doubt. Let my love be the only weight you ever carry.”

Something flickered behind his eyes at that—something quiet and dangerous and tender. The kind of look that wasn’t born from desire, but from the aching realization that someone saw him, fully and without fear. His smirk lingered, but the sharp edge had dulled, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

“Then I’ll be yours to spoil,” he said, voice hushed and resolute. “Just promise you won’t stop.”

She smiled at that—soft and sad and beautiful. Because she wouldn’t. Even if the world tried to rip them apart again, even if danger waited for them around every corner. She would love him like this, fiercely and without apology.

[bisousie]

anyways this is my girl that i base all of my work on ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

my cutie patootie!! 🩷

[bisousie]

guys...i think she likes him

someone take canva away from me

[bisousie]

star sign. | caleb xia x f! reader (crack fic)

caleb girlies, i'm so sorry.

look i wrote it before he became a side piece. i had loved/hated his character because of how goofy he is. BUT I LOVE HIM ENTIRELY NOW. that's my mistress.

this blurb makes no sense at all. it was written after seeing one (1) tiktok and a fever-induced dream. i am no writer! just for funsies!!

269 words (lol nice)

xxox

LOBBY MUSIC by kahoot

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• ∞

The first time she meets Caleb, it’s by sheer accident—literally. Their mail gets mixed up, leading to an awkward but amusing first encounter. Turns out, he’s her next-door neighbor. He’s got that effortless charm, the kind that makes him feel like the perfect boy-next-door. Tall and lean with dark hair, his striking amethyst eyes stand out like something from a dream. He’s almost too pretty, unfairly so. But as she quickly learns, Caleb isn’t just a pretty face—he’s sharp-witted, funny, and, to top it all off, a Colonel in the Farspace Fleet.

And, supposedly, he can cook.

When he invites her over to make dinner together, she, already a little smitten, agrees without hesitation. The evening unfolds in the warm glow of his kitchen, filled with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of oven-cooked pork ribs, creamy mashed potatoes smothered in homemade gravy, and golden, bubbling mac and cheese fresh from the oven. The real masterpiece? The soft, buttery rolls he had prepared beforehand, waiting just for this moment.

Between chopping, stirring, and sneaking bites of food, they talk and laugh, slipping into an easy rhythm. As the meal winds down, the conversation turns playful. They trade silly questions, each one peeling back another layer of the other’s personality.

Then she, grinning, asks, “What’s your star sign?”

Without missing a beat, Caleb leans back slightly, smirking like he’s been waiting for this moment. “Judy Hopps moon and Hatsune Miku rising.”

Silence.

He holds his expression, absolutely radiating smug self-satisfaction. The sheer confidence. The audacity. Adelaide processes the words, then, without hesitation, swings on him with all the force she can muster.

again, caleb girlies, i'm so sorry.

also this was written with my oc originally, but i removed her name so you could experience this ick with me. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

the thought of him saying that to me in a dream got me so mad that i wrote it out. and my fever had gone away! :D

[bisousie]

spring baby. | sylus qin and his mama

saw a post with a reminder that Sylus was abandoned by literally everyone in his life as a child and that made me physically ill. i need him loved at every point in his life, so i wrote about him and his mama.

short read :)

lol watch me write like i know ANYTHING about dragons

AGAIN I AM NO WRITER!! just for funsies!

xxox

KITCHEN FAN LULLABY by claire boyer

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• ∞

It is early spring, and a mother waits with bated breath.

Her muscles coil and uncoil with restless energy, steam curling from her nostrils as she watches the others’ eggs splinter open under the red moon. She tries to stay still, but her tail lashes, claws kneading the nesting stone. Her own egg—her runt—is smaller than any she has laid before. Smaller than any in the entire flight.

Still, she remains close. Protective. Hoping.

This is not her first clutch—but if fate favors her, it will be her first to survive past hatching.

But the night stretches on. One by one, hatchlings chirr and screech their first breaths, limbs flailing as they learn to find footing on trembling legs. The chorus of life cuts at her like ice.

Hers remains still. Unmoving.

A dead egg. Another wasted season.

But she stays. Just one more night. She coils around it beneath the red moon and stars, pressing her body close. If nothing changes by morning, she will leave it behind. Let the scavengers and ground-things take it. That is the way of things.

Dawn spills over the nesting cliffs. The flight stirs, hatchlings mewling as sires and dams prepare to migrate toward new hunting grounds—fresh territory to raise the fledglings until they grow strong enough to brood clutches of their own.

She gives the egg one last nudge with her snout, reluctant, slow. The shell is cool, still. She should leave.

But then—crrk.

Her head snaps back. Another crack—soft, but certain.

She crouches low, eyes wide and unblinking, breath held so tightly it burns in her chest. The scent is faint but sharp: wet, new, hers. Her talons twitch, tail curling tightly around her paws as she watches.

The shell splinters again. A tiny fist pushes through, pink and trembling. No claws. No sheen of scales. No horns. No wings.

Just... soft skin.

She snarls, confused. Recoils slightly. The hatchling’s scent is hers, yes—but what is this?

It whimpers. Then cries. A sound like pain, like need. It punches into her gut in a way she doesn’t expect. Her body reacts before her mind does—move closer, cover it, warm it, protect it.

But it’s wrong, isn’t it? It doesn’t look like her. Doesn’t sound like the others. Doesn’t smell of fire and wind and ancient stone.

Just her.

She leans in, nose brushing over the tiny body. He is warm. Fragile. Breathing.

A flicker of doubt coils in her chest—defective, she thinks. And the word burns, foreign and cruel.

Still, her wings shield him. Still, her tongue laps the afterbirth from his skin. Still, her throat rumbles low and soft, instinct wrapping around the little creature like a lullaby.

He squirms, presses into her warmth. Clings to her scales with tiny hands.

And the ache of failure fades.

She doesn't understand. She doesn't need to.

He is hers.

And that is enough.

She takes a moment to look upon her new young.

He breathes softly in his sleep, chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm. So small. So still. So peaceful.

She leans close, committing every inch of him to memory. His skin—soft and tanned like sun-warmed stone. A crown of downy white hair, pale as fresh snow on mountaintops. His cheeks, flushed with life, puffed and rosy. And nestled where his heart should be—a ruby gem, dimly pulsing with light. Faint red branching lines fan outward from it like delicate veins of crystal.

It mirrors her own. A mark of true kinship. Undeniable.

The little creature stirs, roused by the gentle hum of the waking world. The scent of earth, the whisper of leaves, the distant call of birdsong. Not born beneath moonlight and fire like the others—but under the dawn, kissed by the first warmth of morning, where dew clings to moss and the world stretches awake.

His eyes blink open—dark garnet, deep and glimmering—and fix on hers. Citrine, ancient, unblinking.

She stops breathing.

Those eyes—so unfamiliar, so human, yet filled with something ancient, something hers. They look into her as if they know her already. As if he’s always known.

And in that moment, the word defective crumbles to dust.

No—this is perfection.

Her little one.

Her first.

A gift. Not from chance. From Astra himself—the god who weaves fate among stars.

She curls around him, protective, reverent. This odd, radiant creature in her nest is not a mistake.

He is a miracle.

She names him Stayrus—a name from the old tongue, one her heart offers without thinking. It means he who lingers in the light. A soul not meant for shadows, but for dawn.

She doesn't yet know what the future holds. Doesn't know how the rest of the flight will react to this strange, hornless hatchling.

But she knows this: she will raze mountains, shatter skies, and burn entire forests if it means he will live.

Because no gem, no gold, no relic could compare.

This child—this wonder—is the greatest treasure her hoard has ever known.

idk if they ever went over what Stayrus means so I gave it a meaning lol

I HOPE U ENJOYED !

[bisousie]

tethered. | sylus x fem!reader

hello again! i just thought that i would post something else I have written for sylus. for context, i wrote this after his myth came out and i just needed some sort of fluff for him lol. also this was written with my oc but i have since taken her out so everyone can enjoy :)

if anyone likes what i have so far i have a few blurbs that i've written for sylus that I can post on here! please remember this is all for fun and i am no writer!

xxox

MY DEAREST DARLING by etta james

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 1:26

“Oh nothing, nothing, nothing in this world can keep us apart. My dearest darling, I offer you my heart”

The N109 Zone was quiet. A rare stillness hung in the air, the kind that only settled when Sylus wasn’t buried under layers of business deals and clandestine operations. His mansion, as opulent and polished as it always was, felt different today. Soft and inviting. Like it was letting go of its hard edges and breathing for the first time in a long while.

Sylus lay sprawled on the long, velvet couch in the living room, half-drunk on an old bottle of wine and fully immersed in the mindless drama playing out on the screen in front of him. The Real Housewives of the N109 was in full swing, a show so absurd and over-the-top that it became their guilty pleasure. Ridiculous fights, petty arguments, and larger-than-life characters—it was a chaotic mess that, for some reason, they both adored.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Sylus’s mouth as the latest character threw a drink in someone’s face. His eyes twinkled with amusement, a rare vulnerability creeping through his usual mask of control. She, watching him from the doorframe with a tray of snacks in her hands, couldn’t help but smile herself. She hadn’t seen him this relaxed in ages, and it made her heart swell with something tender and unexpected.

Her gaze softened as she stepped closer, placing the tray down on the coffee table and sinking into the space beside him. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his shirt as she leaned into him, feeling the weight of his arm stretched across the back of the couch. For a moment, she simply rested her head on his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his presence. This, this was real. Not the leader of Onychinus. Not the ruthless man with blood on his hands. But Sylus. Just Sylus. And in this quiet moment, she found herself seeing him—truly seeing him—for the first time.

Sylus stiffened slightly when she wrapped her arms around him, but the hesitation didn’t last long. He shifted, pulling her close with a soft grunt, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers brushed her hair, a gesture so tender it made her chest ache.

“Oh, is this a prize for something I’ve done?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, but there was a softness to it—an intimacy she had never known he was capable of showing.

She shook her head, her lips curling into a small, affectionate smile. “No,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I just love you.”

His chuckle, deep and warm like the burn of whiskey, sent a shiver down her spine. “I love you too, owlet.”

The name, so uniquely his for her, made her heart swell even more. He had a way of making her feel as though she was the only one in the universe. In his arms, with his voice rumbling in her ear, she knew she was safe. More than safe—she was home.

There was no reason for her love to feel this way. No clear explanation. She hadn’t asked for it. Hadn’t planned it. Yet, somehow, she had fallen for Sylus Qin in a way that went deeper than logic. Her love for him wasn’t simply an emotion—it was a devotion. A fierce, quiet certainty that no matter what came between them, she would always be tethered to him. Even now, with the faintest of fears nestled deep within her, she couldn't let go. She didn't want to.

Sylus’s arms tightened around her, and for a moment, she imagined curling up inside him, becoming part of him, as if somehow doing so would keep him here—keep him close. The thought that one day she could lose him, that he could slip away from her grasp, was an unspoken fear she couldn’t shake.

She snuggled closer, pressing herself even tighter against his side, as if the sheer closeness could erase that fear. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, holding on with a desperation that surprised even her. She didn’t want to think about the day he might not be there. Not when she could feel his heartbeat beneath her ear. Not when his breath was warm against her skin, steady and reassuring.

He tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair, the lightest touch of his lips against her. “Don’t worry, my darling,” he whispered, his voice softer now, like the promise of something unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time, she believed him. She let herself believe him completely, knowing that whatever they had—this rare, fragile, precious connection—it was theirs.

She tightened her grip on him just a little bit more, sinking deeper into his warmth, not letting go. In this quiet moment, with the laughter of the TV drama echoing in the background, Sylus was not the leader of Onychinus. He was simply the man she loved. And in this stillness, in each heartbeat shared between them, she knew that whatever the future held, she would always be right here, with him. Forever.

[bisousie]

rest. | sylus x gn!reader

helloo! this is my first post on this account o/" it's a short little post, so I hope you enjoy!

xxox

cw: mentions of smoking

TOGETHER by matthew halsall

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• ∞

The fire crackles softly in the dimly lit study, casting flickering gold and amber hues along the polished mahogany furniture. The rich scent of aged whiskey, faint smoke, and warm leather lingers in the air, blending with the deep, intoxicating spice of Tom Ford's Black Lacquer—dark woods, vanilla, and something undeniably sinful.

Sylus sits at his desk, his posture rigid, one hand holding a stack of papers while the other lazily brushes through his hair. It’s tousled now, a few strands falling over his forehead, the rest swept back from where he’s been sighing, exhaling frustration into the quiet room. His glasses have slipped just slightly down the bridge of his nose, catching the low firelight. The faintest crease forms between his brows, and the cigarette resting at the corner of his lips burns idly, curling smoke trailing upward in delicate tendrils.

The sight of him like this—black slacks hugging his frame just right, a fitted sweater pulling slightly where his muscles tense, the glow of the fire painting his sharp features in molten gold—ethereal is the only word that comes to mind. It’s rare to catch him like this, undone in a way that only exhaustion and quiet solitude allow.

Without a word, you step forward, fingers brushing his jaw as you pluck the cigarette from his lips. He exhales sharply at the loss, his lips parting in a small, fleeting pout—just barely there, but enough to make your stomach flip. You place the cigarette in the ashtray, watching as the embers dim with a final, soft glow.

"Enough," you murmur, voice gentle but firm, fingertips grazing over the back of his hand. "You've been at this since you woke up."

He doesn’t protest, but his gaze lingers on the papers for a moment longer before finally setting them down. His hands find your waist, pulling you in, and you sink against him, arms slipping around his shoulders. The moment you press your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling that intoxicating mix of cologne and nicotine, you feel the tension in him start to unravel.

A deep sigh escapes his lips—one of quiet surrender. His arms tighten around you, warmth seeping through the thick fabric of his sweater as he pulls you closer, as if the weight of the world can finally rest for just a moment in your embrace.

And just like that, the sharp edges of Sylus Qin melt into something softer.