kannady

[kannady]

Genuinely love the Ever, Ever After series. Reading every paragraph of it has me clutching to my pearls <3 I LOVE IT SO MUCHH SHIWJEIEJW

ever, ever after

pairing: sylus x non-mc reader

summary: sylus didn't love you. how could he when she was around? but would he come look for you if you willingly step into EVER's boundaries?

word count: 4k

a/n: okay so! an early update cus ill be super busy and tired tomorrow, then squid game s3 will be coming out AND a lads update is coming out on friday with fans heavily speculating we'll get a sneak peak of the sixth li. so im guessing we'll all be super busy. i really hope ur enjoying this series and TYSM ANON you literally made my day!! i hope you enjoy this chapter as well. lemme know your thoughts!

read rest of the chapters here!

III

Your heart sank like a stone in water as Dr. Voss’s expression shifted. A slow, chilling transformation from  curiosity to something far more dangerous. His cold eyes flicked from you to Sylus, still restrained behind the glass, then back to you, and in that split second, you knew. 

Oh, shit. I’m done for.

But survival instincts kicked in, sharp and automatic. You straightened your spine, forcing your voice into something resembling professionalism.

"I was just checking his vitals before lunch," you said, gesturing to the monitors with a steadiness you didn’t feel. "His levels plateaued. The serum isn’t affecting his Evol anymore. I thought-" A breath, calculated. "I should ask if he was experiencing any side effects. Protocol 9-D, right? Patient-reported data?"

The lie slithered out smoother than you expected. Voss’s eyebrow arched, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat too long before he stepped closer to the observation window. The silence stretched, suffocating, as he scrutinized the vitals himself. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, the suspicion coiling tighter.

Then, miraculously, he nodded. "You’re right." His voice was clipped, but the tension in your shoulders eased a fraction. "We’ll halt administration. Clearly, this batch isn’t potent enough." He turned to you, and for the first time in your two years at EVER, something resembling approval flickered in his expression. "Good catch, Dr. (Y/N)."

The praise should’ve felt like a victory. Instead, it sat heavy in your chest. You nodded stiffly, avoiding Sylus’s gaze, but you could feel it, burning into you like a brand. Even now, even half-drugged and strapped to a chair, he was watching. Waiting.

You mumbled an excuse about lunch and all but bolted from the lab, the doors hissing shut behind you. The hallway was deserted, the fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. For a moment, you just stood there, pressing your palms to your eyes until stars burst behind your lids. 

What the hell am I doing?

Your phone was in your hand before you could second-guess it. Luke’s number rang once, twice, then disconnected. Kieran’s didn’t even go through. You stared at the screen, your reflection warped in the black glass. A new, ugly thought slithered into your mind. What if he didn’t come alone?

Sylus didn’t do anything without a plan. And if he was here, in EVER’s clutches, then where was she? The woman whose laughter had haunted you long after you’d left. The woman he’d loved in some other life, maybe even in this one.

Your fingers tightened around the phone. What if this was all part of some elaborate scheme, and you were just a pawn again? A distraction. What if she was waiting in the shadows, ready to step in the moment EVER’s defenses crumbled?

The idea should’ve infuriated you. Instead, it just made you tired. Two years of running, of building a life where you were finally someone else, and here you were, right back where you started. Caught between Sylus’s games and EVER’s cruelty, with no idea which side would destroy you first.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket and started walking, your heels clicking a sharp, staccato rhythm against the tile. It didn’t matter. None of it did. Because whether this was a trap or some twisted reunion, one thing was certain. You were already in too deep to walk away now.

Your lungs burned with the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The immediate crisis was over, Voss had bought your lie, at least for now. But the relief was temporary, fragile as glass. You knew what came next. A stronger serum. A more aggressive extraction. And Sylus, proud, untouchable Sylus, wouldn’t survive it.

The thought sent a fresh wave of panic crashing through you, your pulse hammering so loudly you were half-convinced the entire lab could hear it. What do I do?

Luke and Kieran weren’t answering. That left only one option.

Her.

Her very presence had been like a blade pressed to your ribs, a constant reminder that no matter how close you stood to him, you would never be the one he truly saw.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at your sides. She worked at the Hunters Association, you remembered that much. But you couldn’t go now. Not in broad daylight, not when you didn’t even know her name. The realization was a bitter pill. Two years of resentment, of stolen glances and silent comparisons, and you’d never even learned what her name was.

No, you’d have to wait. Slip away after hours, linger near the building’s exits like some kind of stalker, and hope to catch her leaving. The idea made your skin crawl, but what other choice did you have?

For now, you forced yourself to move, to slip back into the rhythm of your day like nothing was wrong. Mara had mentioned a new restaurant, some place with dumplings she’d been raving about. You went, more out of obligation than hunger, sliding into a seat just as the lunch rush began to thin.

The food arrived, steam curling off the plates in fragrant spirals. You picked up your chopsticks, took a single bite, and then just stopped. The flavors blurred together, tasteless as ash. Your mind was elsewhere, spinning in frantic circles.

What if she doesn’t help? What if she laughs in your face? What if she’s the reason he’s here in the first place?

You pushed the food around your plate, your appetite long gone. Around you, the restaurant buzzed with conversation, the clatter of dishes, the occasional burst of laughter. None of it reached you. You were trapped in your own head, drowning in scenarios that all ended the same way, with Sylus’s lifeless body on an exam table, and your hands stained with the consequences.

By the time you made it back to the facility, lunch had bled into the afternoon, the sky outside the windows already darkening toward evening. You barely had time to stash your bag at your workstation before the alert chimed on your tablet.

“Emergency meeting. Conference Room A. 5 minutes.”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew, even before you stepped through the doors, what this was about. The room was already half-full, researchers murmuring to each other in hushed, excited tones. Voss stood at the front, his expression unreadable as he tapped something into a holoscreen.

Then he looked up, and his gaze landed squarely on you.

“Now that we’re all here,” he said, his voice cool and precise, “let’s discuss Phase Two.”

The screen behind him flickered to life, revealing a new formula, twice as complex as the last, with a list of side effects that made your blood run cold.

Cardiac arrest. Cerebral hemorrhage. Ischemic stroke.

Voss’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “We begin testing tomorrow.”

Across the room, Mara caught your eye, her brows furrowed in concern. You realized, distantly, that your hands were shaking.

You curled them into fists.

The meeting passed in a blur of muffled voices and flickering holoscreens. Words like "enhanced serum" and "immediate testing" caught your attention once in a while, meaningless noises against the roaring in your skull. You sat stiff-backed in your chair, fingers clenched around your tablet hard enough to leave imprints, your mind a thousand miles away, trapped behind that observation glass, watching Sylus’s body convulse under the serum’s assault.

When the meeting ended, you stood mechanically, following the stream of researchers out the door like a robot rehearsing actions. Your footsteps echoed down the hallway, perfectly measured, your body moving on autopilot while your thoughts spiraled.

What were you going to do?

The question looped in your head, but there was no answer. No plan. Just the crushing weight of what was coming, the knowledge that tomorrow, they would strap Sylus back into that chair and pump him full of something even worse. And you would have to watch.

A hand closed around your wrist, yanking you sideways into a dim storage room. The door hissed shut behind you, and you blinked, momentarily disoriented, as Mara’s face swam into focus. Her usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by something sharp and searching.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, voice low. “You’ve been zoning out all day. And in there?” She jerked her chin toward the conference room. “You looked like you were about to vomit.”

Your throat tightened. I can’t tell her. The truth was a grenade in your hands, pull the pin, and everything would blow apart. Mara was your friend, maybe the closest thing you had to one in this place, but this? This was too big. Too dangerous.

“It’s just…” You swallowed, scrambling for something, anything, that wasn’t a lie but wasn’t the whole truth either. “This is serious stuff we’re doing now. I can’t- I don’t know if I can take it.”

Mara’s eyebrow arched. “Excuse me?” She crossed her arms, leaning back against a shelf of sterile supplies. “What about the other experiments you performed? The neural overwrites? The memory wipes?” Her voice dropped, almost mocking. “Those didn’t bother you?”

The words hit like a slap.

She was right. You had done worse. Writen protocols that scraped a person’s mind clean, designed machines that could drain the blood out of the subjects with a few clicks. But those subjects had been monsters, rapists, murderers, traffickers from the N109 Zone’s darkest corners. You’d seen their files. Known what they’d done. It had been easy, then, to tell yourself you were making the world better.

But Sylus? Sylus was different.

What exactly was he to you?

The question lodged in your chest like a bullet.

Mara sighed when you didn’t answer, pushing off the shelf. “Look, I won’t push. But get it together.” Her gaze flicked to the door, then back to you, uncharacteristically serious. “I noticed first because we’re friends. The moment someone else does? You’re in trouble.”

She left without another word, the door clicking shut behind her, and just like that, you were alone.

The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. You slumped against the wall, your legs suddenly unsteady, the cold metal biting through your lab coat. Your tablet slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor, but you didn’t bother picking it up.

You couldn’t walk away now. Couldn’t pretend you hadn’t seen him. Couldn’t let them kill him.

But helping him? That meant betraying EVER. Meant throwing away everything you’d built, your career, your safety, the fragile peace you’d carved out for yourself.

And for what?

For the man who’d watched you walk away two years ago and hadn’t followed?

Your hands trembled. You pressed them to your face, your breath coming too fast, too shallow.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, a voice whispered. You already know the answer.

You’d known it the moment you saw him behind that glass.

You were going to burn your life to the ground for him.

And the worst part was you didn’t even know why.

You slipped out of the storage room with measured steps. The hallway was empty, the hum of distant conversations and clicking keyboards the only sounds. Okay, you’ve got this. 

The plan formed in your mind like a lifeline. After work, you’d go to the Hunter’s Association. Even if Sylus had some grand scheme in motion, you needed to know. And then? Then you’d step away. Wash your hands of this mess.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before pushing open the lab doors. Inside, the scene was exactly as you’d left it, researchers hunched over glowing screens, fingers flying across tablets, the air thick with the sterile scent of ozone and disinfectant. No one looked up as you entered. No one except Mara.

Her gaze met yours for a brief moment before she deliberately turned back to her work. The unspoken "get it together" was evident on her face. You forced yourself to move, crossing the room to your workstation.

The observation window drew your attention like a magnet. Empty, of course. Sylus wasn’t there, why would he be? The serum testing was done for the day, and EVER had no reason to keep him in the lab when they could stash him in some high-security cell instead.

You sank into your chair, fingers hovering over the holoscreen as your thoughts churned. None of this made sense. If Sylus was here, it had to be part of a plan. That’s how he operated. So where was the cavalry? Where were Luke and Kieran, bursting through the doors with guns blazing? Where was the distraction, the sabotage, the anything that would explain why the most dangerous man you’d ever known was sitting in a cell instead of burning this place to the ground?

Unless he wanted to be here.

The thought sent a chill down your spine. You shook your head, as if you could physically dislodge it. No. That was a rabbit hole you couldn’t afford to go down right now.

You threw yourself into your work, losing hours to data streams and prototype schematics, your hands moving on autopilot while your mind raced. The second your shift ended, you were out the door, your coat barely shrugged on as you all but sprinted for the transit station.

The Hunter’s Association loomed ahead, its sleek facade lit by the dying light of the sunset. You hesitated at the entrance, suddenly unsure. Were you too late? Too early? Would she even still be here?

You planted yourself across the street, leaning against a lamppost like you had every right to be there, your pulse thundering in your ears. Minutes ticked by. Ten. Twenty. Just as you were about to give up, to turn and walk away, you saw her.

There she was.

She stepped out of the building beside a coworker, a tall man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, his posture relaxed, his laugh carrying across the street. And her. Even now, after all this time, the sight of her hit like a punch to the gut.

She was beautiful. Effortlessly so, her hair catching the golden light, her smile easy as she listened to something the man said. You’d spent years trying to forget the exact curve of her lips, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed.

Your feet moved before you could stop yourself, carrying you across the street. The man noticed you first, his gaze sharpening as he subtly shifted his stance, one hand drifting toward his hip. A weapon. Of course. Hunters were never unarmed.

She followed his line of sight, and her eyes locked onto yours.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped. Her smile froze, her breath catching audibly. You saw the exact moment recognition dawned, the way her eyes widened, her lips parting in something like shock. Then she  turned to the man, murmuring something too low for you to hear. 

He hesitated, his gaze flicking between the two of you before nodding and walking away, though not without a final, lingering glance in your direction.

And then she was walking toward you, her steps measured, her expression unreadable. Up close, she was even more striking. The scent of her perfume hit you like a memory. The last time you’d been this close to her, you’d been standing in Sylus’s study, your hands clenched at your sides as they stood side by side. 

Now, she studied you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

"You," she said finally, her voice softer than you remembered. "I wondered if I’d ever see you again."

The words settled between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

What the hell were you even supposed to say?

Your mouth went dry. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, awkward, stilted, painfully inadequate. "Um… hi?"

Her expression softened, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then, to your absolute shock, she stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.

You froze.

Her arms were warm, her perfume dizzyingly familiar, something floral and expensive, the same scent that had lingered in Sylus’s study long after she’d left. Your hands hovered uselessly at your sides, your brain short-circuiting. What the hell was happening?

She pulled back first, her smile small but genuine. "Where have you been?"

The question threw you. You blinked, scrambling for words. "I just… left. For work."

"Work?" Her brow furrowed. "You worked for Sylus."

"Well, yeah. And then I left."

She studied you for a long moment, her gaze sharp in a way that made your skin prickle. Then she gestured across the street to a dimly lit coffee shop. "Let’s talk there."

You followed her numbly. This wasn’t how you’d imagined this going. You’d braced for hostility, for cold indifference, not this. Not soft smiles and casual hugs and a conversation you had no idea how to navigate.

The coffee shop was nearly empty, the air thick with the scent of roasted beans and burnt sugar. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl seat creaking under your weight. Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t stop staring at her, the way her fingers tapped absently against the table, the way the dim light caught on her hair.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. "Have you been in contact with Sylus?"

She raised an eyebrow and then laughed.

The sound was bright, effortless, just like you remembered. It sent a sharp pang through your chest. You frowned. "What’s funny?"

She wiped at her eyes, still grinning. "I haven’t talked to him in, let’s see, over a year now. And the last time we did talk?" She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "He called me in the middle of the night asking if I knew where you were."

Your heart stuttered.

The world narrowed to the sound of your own pulse roaring in your ears. He’d asked about you. Not just in passing, not just as an afterthought. He’d called her. In the middle of the night.

Your voice came out strangled. "What did he say?"

She shrugged, stirring her coffee idly. "Like I said, he wanted to know if I’d seen you. And honestly? We never talked, so I was no help. But I have contacts, so I tried looking for you anyway." A pause. Her expression shifted, something almost wistful creeping in. 

"It was like you’d vanished. The last I heard, Sylus ransacked the entire N109 Zone trying to find you."

Your stomach twisted. You’d known, on some level, that he’d searched. But hearing it out loud, hearing her say it, made it real in a way you weren’t prepared for.

"I’m sorry," you said automatically. "I had to go away."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Not my business. But what does catch my attention…" She tilted her head, studying you with renewed interest. "is why you’re asking if we’re in touch."

You stiffened. She laughed again, softer this time. "Why would we be? We’re hardly friends. He just helped me out when I needed assistance, and that was it."

Something fragile and hopeful fluttered in your chest. You crushed it immediately. "Aren’t you two…" You trailed off, gesturing vaguely. "A couple or something?"

This time, her laughter was outright delighted. "Oh, come on." She leaned back, shaking her head. "He’s a criminal. The most wanted man in Linkon City. Not exactly my type." A smirk. 

"Besides, why would we be a thing when he always had eyes for someone else?"

The words hit like a runaway train. Your breath caught.

Someone else.

The implication hung in the air between you, thick and undeniable. You opened your mouth to say something, but words were lost to you.

She took pity on you then, her expression softening. "You really didn’t know?"

You couldn’t answer. 

After all this time?

You sat there, stunned, the words "he always had eyes for someone else" ringing in your skull like a gunshot. The coffee in front of you had gone cold, untouched. She watched you with something between amusement and pity, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup.

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "I have to go."

She didn’t stop you. Just arched a brow as you fumbled for your bag, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. "Sure," she said lightly. "But he did find you, didn’t he?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat had closed up, your pulse hammering so violently you were half-convinced she could hear it.

The walk home was a blur. The city lights smeared into streaks of gold and neon, the sounds of traffic and chatter fading into white noise. Your mind was a storm, thoughts crashing into each other with brutal, unrelenting force.

Sylus had eyes for you.

The idea was laughable. Absurd. And yet not so impossible to imagine.

Memories surfaced. The way he’d linger just a little too close when reviewing your work, his breath warm against your temple. The way he’d leave notes in his precise, elegant handwriting, notes you’d saved, tucked away like some pathetic secret. The way he’d asked you to live with him, for fuck’s sake, as if that was a normal thing a boss would do.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

There was a time, a time when you would’ve begged for this. When the mere possibility that he might feel the same would’ve sent you spiraling into dizzy, reckless hope. But now?

Now you didn’t know what to feel.

Because it didn’t matter. Not really.

You’d help him. Of course you would. You’d get him out of EVER’s clutches, and then you’d move on. Both of you. That was the plan. That was the only plan.

So why did that thought make your chest ache?

A gust of wind cut through you, sharp and biting. You barely felt it.

Why the hell is he even here?

The question gnawed at you. If Sylus had orchestrated this, if this was some elaborate scheme, why wasn’t he doing anything? Why wasn’t he fighting? Why weren’t Luke and Kieran kicking down doors? Why was he just sitting there, letting them pump him full of serums that would kill him?

You scoffed, raking a hand through your hair. Hypothetically speaking, if you didn’t help him, if you walked away and let EVER do what they did best, he’d die. Just like that. No grand escape. No last-minute rescue. Just a cold, clinical death on an exam table, his body discarded like faulty machinery.

The idea was so wrong it made your teeth hurt.

Sylus shouldn’t die quietly. Sylus shouldn't have to die at all. He was a force of nature, a storm given human form. He didn’t just let things happen to him.

Unless he was here for you.

But no. That was insane. That was pathetic.

You shook your head, but the idea stuck, stubborn and insidious.

Because if he had come for you, if he’d let himself get captured, knowing you worked here, knowing you’d see him, then he’d gambled everything on the hope that you’d help him. And that meant he’d gambled on you caring. Did he not think of the possibility that you might not? That you might walk away? That after two years of silence, you might look him in the eye and let them take everything from him?

A bitter laugh escaped you.

Of course he had. Sylus thought of everything. That was the problem. Which meant maybe this wasn’t a gamble at all. Maybe it was a test.

The realization settled over you like a cloud.

Tomorrow, they’d give him the stronger serum. Tomorrow, he’d die, unless you did something. And he’d known that. He’d known. But why was he putting you on the spot like that?

You stopped walking, your apartment building looming ahead, its windows dark and empty.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

She wasn’t involved. You couldn’t and wouldn’t drag her into this. But that left you with exactly zero allies, zero resources, and zero time.

You exhaled sharply, your breath fogging in the cold air.

Things weren’t any better than they’d been this morning. If anything, they were worse. Because now you knew and that changed everything.

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

tags: @nm4565natty, @dysphxriaii, @animegamerfox, @floofycookie, @food4me-always, @dummiebunny, @starllight613, @natashahbarry, @hao-ming-8, @eve-rockin-blog, @sylusgirlie7, @babygirl-panda19, @chaoticfivesworld, @wakeupr41, @poptrim, @brailsthesmolgurl, @seung185, @mimiu3usoft, @theplaid-wearingmoose, @moonchildjae00, @pinksaiyans, @vintag3u, @peachystea, @69-gojos-wife-69, @harusansthings, @dyeinsomniadontwake, @perqbeth, @dramaticalsachan, @dana-nite, @blusterry-bomb, @miffysoo, @his-ocean-emissary, @totallytaurus4, @sleepykittyenergy, @terriblesoup, @mcdepressed290, @ikesimpleton, @meyline, @decaf-nosebleed, @ili6a, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @adeptustemptations, @sylussweetkitten, @roschea-arts, @blipblopblopblip, @eolivy, @coeurdeveea, @sylussplushie, @thestarsaboveme, @cordidy, @bxtchopolis, @sabage101

[kannady]

:') i wish you'd credit the artists whose work you use as banners

its my own work. i make all my banners in canva! EXCEPT the banner for "whiskey and sin" i found the artwork on pinterest without anyone tagged so i do not know who the real artist is.

[kannady]

Hey,wanted to ask, I really liked ur Caleb fic with omorashi, just wondering where it went cuz it was so good😭

ummm dont laugh but it embarrassed me😭😭😭 to the point i made it private LMAO

[kannady]

hii! i love love loovveee ever,ever after i js wna ask if theres a schedule for ur chapt releases?

heyy, thank you so much for reading and loving this!

i post chapter updates after 3-4 days

[kannady]

ever, ever after

pairing: sylus x non-mc reader

summary: sylus didn't love you. how could he when she was around? but would he come look for you if you willingly step into EVER's boundaries?

word count: 3.8k

a/n: HOLY SHIT! i did not expect that many people to read the prev part and actually like it???? thank you so much to all you lovely people. seeing everyone excited for the next part just lit me on fire. hope you'll like this one. lemme know your thoughts!

read rest of the chapters here!

II

The mug shattered on the floor.

The sound was too loud in the silence of the lab, ceramic shards skittering across the frosted glass tiles. Coffee pooled dark and bitter, seeping into the panels. You stood there, frozen, fingers still curled around the ghost of the handle, your pulse a frantic drumbeat against your ribs.

Behind the observation window, Sylus didn’t move.

His crimson eyes stayed locked onto yours, unblinking, like a predator eyeing his prey. Even through the distortion of the reinforced glass, you could see the way his chest rose and fell. Too steady for a man strapped to a chair, electrodes burrowed into his skin, a veterinary-grade sedative no doubt pumping through his veins. His lips were parted just slightly, as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

"Dr. (Y/N)?"

Mara’s voice cut through the ringing in your ears. You hadn’t even noticed her approach, but now she was right beside you, her gloved hand hovering near your elbow like she wasn’t sure if you’d bolt or collapse.

"What happened?"

Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth. "It.. Um.. It was too hot," you murmured, the lie slipping out before you could stop it. "I dropped it."

Mara’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t press. Around you, the other researchers had paused in their work, some staring openly, others pretending not to notice the way your hands trembled as you bent to pick up the broken pieces.

"Leave it." A senior researcher, Dr. Voss, dismissed you with a flick of his clipboard. "I’ve called for someone."

A cleaner arrived within minutes, silent and efficient, sweeping up the evidence of your momentary lapse. You barely registered their presence. Your entire body was wound tight, every nerve was burdened with the weight of Sylus’s gaze.

Someone handed you fresh lab glasses, gloves, and the file. Thick, heavy, the words SUBJECT M-7 stamped across the front in bold black letters. You took it mechanically, flipping through the pages without really seeing them.

Evol Classification: Energy Manipulation (Class VIII, potentially IX). Containment Protocols: Electromagnetic shackles. Sedation drip. Two cranial failsafe implants.

Your stomach twisted. A cold chill slithered down your spine.

You tilted your head, just a fraction, just enough, and there he was. Still watching. Still waiting.

What the hell are you doing here?

The question screamed inside your skull, a frantic, looping mantra.

How did they catch you?

Sylus didn’t get caught. Sylus was the trap. Right?

Why are you here?

Your fingers tightened around the file, the edges digging into your palms. Was this a trick? A doppelgänger? Some sick game EVER was playing to test your loyalty?

But no. No, you knew those eyes. Knew the way they darkened when he was amused, knew the way they gleamed like fresh blood under sunlight. Knew the way they’d followed you, even when you thought you’d vanished completely.

He found you.

And now he was here, strapped to a chair in your lab, at your mercy, and the irony was so sharp it could have drawn blood.

You forced yourself to turn away, to focus on the vials in front of you. But your hands weren’t steady. The chemicals sloshed dangerously as you measured them out, your thoughts a hurricane of panic and disbelief.

Then Mara nudged you.

She leaned in, her voice a whisper against your ear. "Do you… know this guy or something?"

Your grip faltered. The vial slipped, just for a second, before you caught it, your breath hitching. "No," you said, too quickly. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

Mara’s gaze flicked toward the window, then back to you. "I dunno. He keeps looking at you." A pause. "Like, only at you. He hasn’t looked anywhere else since you walked in."

Your heartbeat stuttered. You didn’t dare look again. But you could feel him.

The weight of his stare. The unspoken question in it. The accusation.

"Dr. (Y/N)?" Voss’s voice snapped you back. "We’re waiting on those samples."

You swallowed hard. "Right," you murmured. "Sorry."

But as you turned back to your work, your hands moving on autopilot, your mind was somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere with crimson eyes and a voice that still haunted your dreams.

Somewhere you’d sworn you’d never return.

And yet here he was.

***

The lab was silent now, the usual hum of machinery and murmured conversations long faded into the night. You sat alone, bathed in the sterile glow of your computer screen, fingers stiff from hours of typing reports you barely registered. When you finally looked up to stretch, your eyes immediately darted to the observation window, only to find it empty. The reinforced glass reflected back your own tired expression, the chair beyond it now vacant, restraints dangling uselessly from its arms. A cold shiver traced your spine as you realized he was gone.

Fumbling for the tablet, your fingers left smudges on the screen as you pulled up the subject logs. The blue text glared back at you: SUBJECT M-7: TRANSPORTED TO SECURE HOLDING. Scheduled for observations and procedures only. 

Your breath left you in a slow, unsteady exhale. Of course they wouldn't keep him here overnight. EVER wasn't foolish enough to leave a Class VIII Evol subject unattended in a standard lab. But the realization did nothing to ease the tightness in your chest.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. 

What were you even doing? 

Two years. Two full years you'd spent building this new life, carving out a place where no one knew your past, where you could finally breathe without calculating every word and gesture. And yet, the moment those crimson eyes had locked onto yours through the glass, it was as if no time had passed at all. 

You were right back where you started. Heart racing, palms sweating, that familiar ache settling deep in your bones.

The worst part was the ridiculous, traitorous thought that had flashed through your mind when you first saw him. Did he come here for me? 

The idea was laughable now. Sylus didn't chase. Sylus didn't get captured. If he was here, it was because he wanted to be. Part of some elaborate scheme you were never meant to understand until it was too late. 

Unless…

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard as the alternative occurred to you. What if he hadn't come willingly? The thought sent an entirely different kind of chill through you. You knew what EVER did to high-value subjects. You'd seen the files, signed off on procedures that had kept you awake at night. If they had truly captured him…

Your gaze dropped to your phone lying beside the keyboard. Two years since you'd last heard their voices. Two years since you'd walked away without looking back. Did you even have the right to call them now? Would they answer? Would they care? Your thumb hovered over Luke's contact, the number you'd never deleted, no matter how many times you told yourself you were done with that life.

The call didn't connect. Just a robotic voice informing you the number was switched off. 

Kieran's was the same. The hollow ache in your chest expanded, though you couldn't say whether it was from relief or disappointment. This was stupid. Completely, utterly stupid. He was the reason you'd left. The reason you'd spent nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if you'd ever be more than just another asset in his carefully calculated world.

And yet here you were, ready to throw away everything you'd built. Your career, your safety, your hard-won peace, all because of one look from those damned crimson eyes. You shoved the phone into your pocket with more force than necessary, pushing back from the desk so abruptly your chair nearly toppled. 

No. You weren't doing this. You weren't that person anymore.

Except if this wasn't part of his plan. If he really was trapped here, at the mercy of the same organization you'd seen tear subjects apart molecule by molecule. Your fingers curled into fists, nails biting into your palms. Damn it. You were going to regret this. 

The phone felt heavy in your hand as you stood frozen on the sidewalk outside your apartment building, your thumb hovering over Luke's contact for what must have been the twentieth time that night. The wind bit through your thin lab coat as you pressed call again, listening to the hollow ringing that seemed to echo in your bones. Two rings. Then silence. Just like before. Just like every other attempt you'd made since leaving the lab. 

Kieran's number didn’t even connect. That infuriating automated voice informing you the number was unavailable, the robotic tone doing nothing to mask the panic rising in your chest.

You shoved the phone back into your pocket with trembling fingers, your breath fogging in the cold air as you finally turned toward your apartment building. The walk up the stairs felt endless, each step heavier than the last. Some foolish, traitorous part of you kept expecting to see him. To turn a corner and find Sylus leaning against your doorframe with that infuriating smirk, crimson eyes glinting in the dim hallway light as if this were all some elaborate game. The thought made your pulse stutter, equal parts dread and something else you refused to name twisting in your gut.

But of course, he wasn't there.

You'd seen him with your own eyes just hours earlier. Strapped to that chair in the lab, electrodes buried in his skin, his silver hair matted with sweat and blood near his temple. The image burned behind your eyelids every time you blinked. 

Yet when your key finally clicked in the lock, you still hesitated, the door creaking open far too slowly as you peered inside like some frightened child checking for monsters.

The apartment was exactly as you'd left it, your half-finished coffee still sitting cold on the counter, the blanket you'd used last night draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch. Normal. Safe. Empty.

The breath left your lungs in a rush as you stepped inside, kicking off your heels with more force than necessary, watching them skid across the hardwood. You collapsed onto the couch without bothering to turn on the lights, the dim glow from the streetlights outside casting long shadows across the ceiling. The silence pressed in around you, heavy and suffocating.

What the hell were you doing?

Your fingers twitched toward your phone again before you could stop yourself. There was no one else to call. No one trustworthy, no one who wouldn't ask questions you couldn't answer. The realization settled like a stone in your stomach. Where were they? Luke and Kieran never turned their phones off. Never. Not unless something was very, very wrong.

The thought followed you into bed, clinging like a second skin as you tossed and turned beneath the sheets. When sleep finally came, it was fitful and haunted. Flashes of a too-familiar mansion, the scent of gun oil and expensive bourbon, the sound of her laughter ringing through the halls like wind chimes. 

***

You woke with a gasp, your body drenched in cold sweat, the digital clock on your bedside table blinking 4:47 AM in harsh red numbers.

For one disorienting moment, you didn't know where you were. The dream still clung to you, the weight of his gaze making your skin prickle even now. You fumbled for your phone with numb fingers, your heart hammering against your ribs as you checked for missed calls. 

Nothing. No messages. No signs that either of them had even seen your attempts to reach them.

The shower was ice-cold, the water biting at your skin until it was numb. You scrubbed at your arms until they were pink, as if you could wash away the memories, the doubt, the creeping sense that nothing had really changed at all. That no matter how far you ran or how well you hid, you were still tangled in the same web.

The morning passed in a blur of too-strong coffee and mechanical movements, brushing your teeth, pulling your hair back into a ponytail, buttoning your lab coat with fingers that refused to steady. Before you knew it, you were standing outside the lab doors, your hand frozen halfway to the access panel.

You didn't want to go in. Didn't want to see him again. Didn't want to know what they were doing to him. But the weight of your keycard in your pocket reminded you that you had no choice.

"Dr. (Y/N), authorization code Rose-9-White," you murmured, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

The locks disengaged with a hiss that seemed far too loud in the empty hallway. You stepped inside, your eyes immediately darting to the observation window before you could stop yourself, only to find it empty again. The chair stood vacant, the restraints hanging loose. Your stomach twisted.

Mara glanced up from her workstation, blinking at you over the rim of her glasses. "Oh, you didn't check the morning logs?" she asked, her fingers never pausing as they flew across her keyboard.

You forced your hands to stay still at your sides. "No. What happened?"

"We finished the preliminary assessments last night," she said, turning back to her screen. A few quick taps pulled up a file labeled SUBJECT M-7: PHASE TWO. "Today we're administering the first round of the Evol-transfer serum. We'll be monitoring his vitals closely, but we've got a stabilized backup dose prepped in case his system rejects it."

Your stomach dropped like a stone.

The words Evol-transfer serum echoed in your skull, each syllable sharper than the last. You knew exactly what that meant, you had helped design the protocols yourself. The process wasn't just painful, it was excruciating. Like having your very soul ripped out piece by piece. And if his body fought it? If the serum destabilized?

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms hard enough to leave crescent-shaped scars. The sterile air of the lab suddenly felt too thick, too warm, your lab coat constricting around your shoulders like a straitjacket. What had you gotten yourself into? More importantly, what had you allowed them to do to him?

What if you were standing on the wrong side of the glass this time?

 The thought made you sicker than anything EVER could have dreamed up in their labs.

The sterile hum of the lab equipment filled your ears as you mechanically sorted through data files, your fingers moving across the holographic display with practiced efficiency despite the storm raging inside your chest. Thirty minutes had passed since Mara's revelation about the serum, thirty minutes of forcing yourself to focus on anything but the empty observation chamber and what was coming. 

Then the doors hissed open, and your entire world narrowed to the sound of rolling wheels and the sharp, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor.

They brought him in, still strapped to that damned chair, his arms secured with reinforced electromagnetic cuffs, the electrodes embedded in his skin now surrounded by dried blood from yesterday's tests. 

The medical team moved with clinical precision, adjusting IV lines and checking readouts, but you barely registered them. Your breath caught painfully in your throat as your pulse skyrocketed, the sudden rush of blood in your ears nearly drowning out all other sound. It felt like your heart might actually tear through your ribcage.

And then he looked up.

Those crimson eyes found yours instantly, as if he'd known exactly where you'd be standing. But unlike yesterday's hollow stare, today his lips curved into that infuriating, knowing smile. The same smug smirk that had haunted your dreams for two years, the one that said he'd already calculated every possible outcome and yours wasn't the winning move. 

Your fingers spasmed around the tablet you were holding, the screen cracking slightly under the pressure before you forcibly turned away, shoulders rigid as you pretended to study a meaningless data stream.

Wait, no. The realization hit you like a bucket of ice water. This was your lab. Your workplace. Your life that you'd built painstakingly over two years of early mornings and late nights, of proving yourself again and again. 

He didn't get to waltz in here and ruin everything with one damn look. Squaring your shoulders, you inhaled deeply through your nose, the sharp scent of antiseptic helping ground you as you turned back to your workstation with renewed determination.

The next hour passed in a blur of hyper-focused activity. You moved between stations with uncharacteristic efficiency, running calculations faster than the system could typically process them, catching errors in the serum compound ratios that had slipped past three other researchers. Even Dr. Voss, the senior researcher whose narcissistic tendencies made him universally avoided, paused by your station with something resembling approval in his cold gaze. "Impressive work today, Dr. (Y/N)," he remarked, the rare praise making several nearby heads turn. "Your focus is... exceptional."

You barely registered the compliment, your entire being focused on the presence thirty feet away behind the observation glass. Every nerve in your body was aware of him, of the way his breathing changed minutely when someone approached with a new instrument, of the faint tension in his jawline that no one else would notice. You'd spent too many years studying those microexpressions, learning to read what he'd never say aloud.

"Alright," Voss's voice snapped you back to the present. "Now go and get the serum prepared. We'll begin phase one administration in five minutes."

The words sent a jolt of ice down your spine. Your feet carried you to the refrigeration unit on autopilot, your hands moving to retrieve the small vial of glowing blue liquid that represented months of your team's work. The serum felt unnaturally cold through your gloves, its faint luminescence pulsing almost like a living thing. You stood frozen for several heartbeats, staring at the vial as conflicting impulses warred in your chest.

Voss had to physically step into your line of sight before you reacted, his impatient "Well?" making you startle. When you still didn't move, he strode forward and practically snatched the serum from your grip, his sharp features twisting in displeasure. "Unusual hesitation from you today," he remarked coolly before turning away.

But you weren't looking at Voss. Your gaze had snapped back to the observation window, to the man strapped in that chair. And for just a fraction of a second, so brief you might have imagined it, you could have sworn something flickered across Sylus's face. Not anger. Not pain. But disappointment? 

The possibility sent an entirely different kind of ache through your chest, one you refused to examine too closely.

As the medical team prepared to administer the serum, you forced yourself to turn back to your workstation, your fingers flying across the controls to pull up his vital signs on your private screen. Every beep of the heart monitor, every fluctuation in brain activity would be recorded here. You told yourself it was professional curiosity. That you were simply monitoring a high-risk procedure. But when the first drops of serum entered his IV line and his body arched against the restraints with a silent scream, your nails dug into your palms hard enough to draw blood. 

And when his eyes, those damned crimson eyes, found yours through the glass once more, blazing with pain and something dangerously close to betrayal, you realized with dawning horror that you might have just made the biggest mistake of your life.

The serum's effects were worse than you'd imagined.

Each scream that tore from Sylus's throat felt like a blade twisting between your ribs. You'd never seen him like this, never heard him make a sound of pain, let alone this raw, ragged agony. His body strained against the restraints, muscles corded tight, veins standing out in beneath sweat-slicked skin. 

The monitors screamed alongside him, his heart rate spiking dangerously high as the serum worked its way through his system, attacking his Evol at the cellular level.

You stood frozen at your workstation, fingers clenched around the edge of the desk so hard your knuckles turned white. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to do something, to stop this, to rip the IV from his arm, to fix what you'd helped create. 

But you couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't tear your eyes away from the way his head finally dropped forward, his body going limp as the worst of the pain subsided into shuddering tremors.

That serum was designed to rip it out of him entirely, to transfer it to someone else. And by the time the process was complete, he'd be dead. 

Your stomach lurched. You'd known this. You'd helped develop this. But seeing it happen to him…

Your vision blurred.

Around you, the lab continued as if nothing were wrong. Researchers murmured notes to each other, adjusting dials, recording data. No one else seemed to hear the way his breath came in short, pained gasps. No one else flinched when his fingers twitched against the restraints like he was still trying to fight.

This couldn't be happening.

Sylus didn't lose. Sylus didn't scream.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look back at your screen, at the readings that confirmed what you already knew. His Evol levels were dropping. Fast.

A few hours later, the lab emptied for lunch.

Mara lingered by your station, nudging your shoulder. "Come on, let's go. You've been staring at that screen for ages."

You shook your head, not trusting your voice. "You go. I need to finish this report. I'll catch up in a minute." She hesitated, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. But if you take too long, I'm eating your share of the dumplings."

The second the door hissed shut behind her, your head snapped up. The lab was empty. Almost.

Your gaze darted to the security camera in the corner, its red light blinking steadily. You should have cared. Should have hesitated. But right now, you didn't give a damn.

"Fuck it," you muttered under your breath. You'd come up with a lie later.

In three quick strides, you were at the observation window. Sylus was slumped forward, his head hanging low, silver hair obscuring his face. You couldn't tell if he was unconscious.

You pressed your palm against the glass.

"Sylus."

No response.

Your chest tightened. You tapped the glass sharply, once, twice.

"Sylus, look at me."

For a heartbeat, nothing.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, he lifted his head.

His crimson eyes were duller than you'd ever seen them, his pupils blown wide with pain, but they locked onto yours with terrifying focus.

And then, he smirked.

That damn, infuriating smirk, even now. Even like this.

Your breath left you in a rush.

"You idiot," you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His lips parted like he might answer. But then the lab door hissed open behind you.

You whirled around.

Dr. Voss stood in the doorway, his cold eyes flicking from you to Sylus and back again.

"Dr. (Y/N)," he said slowly. "Care to explain why you're talking to the subject?"

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[kannady]

ever, ever after

pairing: sylus x non-mc reader

summary: sylus didn't love you. how could he when she was around? but would he come look for you if you willingly step into EVER's boundaries?

word count: 2.6k

a/n: ehhhh just a random idea. not too proud of it. listening to cinnamon girl prompted me to write this. ive never written or read anything angsty. its not great, just my first attempt. lemme know your thoughts! would you wanna read more?

I

The hallway stretched before you, dim and silent except for the muffled creak of the floorboards beneath your boots. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and something sharper, gun oil, maybe. You exhaled slowly, your breath barely disturbing the stillness.

And then you heard it.

A laugh, bright and effortless, ringing through the house.

You froze.

You didn’t need to follow the sound. You didn’t need to see her draped over Sylus’s arm, her fingers curled around a wine glass, her lips parted in amusement. You knew. You had always known.

Sylus had loved her long before he’d known you. Not in this life, perhaps, but in another, one where they were bound by something deeper than reason. You had sensed it the moment you first saw them together, the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke her name.

And you? You had been careful.

You never let your hands tremble when you handed him reports. Never let your voice waver when he stood too close, his presence like a storm pressing against your skin. You were smarter than that. You had to be.

The file in your hand suddenly felt heavy. You set it down on the side table, the sound swallowed by the thick silence of the house. 

A few steps farther, and there he was. Mephisto, perched on his stand like a sentinel, his feathers catching the faint glow of the hallway sconces. Sylus’s ever-watchful spy. 

Your fingers closed around the bird’s body before you could second-guess yourself. Cold metal bit into your palm as you twisted its neck, pressing the hidden switch beneath its wing. A faint click, and the red light in its eyes flickered out.

No more watching. No more recording.

You didn’t walk to your room so much as you drifted there. The corner by the window looking welcoming, the floorboards smooth beneath your knees where you had sat so many nights before. You didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. Just waited, as if some foolish part of you still expected.

But no. Of course he didn’t come.

Why would he? You were just an asset. A tool. And tools don’t warrant concern when they go quiet. They’re replaced.

The realization settled over you like a weight.

You stood. Your bag was already half-packed from some forgotten mission, duffel shoved beneath the bed, dust clinging to its straps. You yanked it free, tossing in the essentials: cash, a knife, the forged papers you’d been smart enough to prepare months ago. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

You didn’t bother with stealth. Didn’t tiptoe past his study, didn’t glance toward the wing where her laughter still curled through the air like smoke.

He wouldn’t notice you were gone.

***

Two years. 

Two years since you'd walked out of that gilded prison with nothing but a half-packed duffel bag and the clothes on your back. Your plan had been absolute in its simplicity: vanish from the N109 Zone completely. Disappear into some forgotten corner of the world, someplace so remote and inaccessible that not even Sylus with his vast resources would think to look.

But you were never naive enough to believe it would be that easy.

In the silent hours before dawn, when the city outside your new apartment windows hummed ever so softly, the truth would wrap around your throat like cold fingers. If Sylus ever truly wanted to find you, he would. No amount of running, carefully constructing false identities, calculating distance would stop him. 

The realization should have terrified you. Instead, it settled into your bones like an old scar, familiar, aching, but no longer sharp. So you did the only thing you could: you became invisible. Not by hiding, but by thriving in the last place anyone would expect to find you.

EVER Group. Those gleaming letters embossed on every lab door, every piece of correspondence, every business card that now bore your name. Eternity Vanquishes Evolution Restraint. A name as pretentious as it was accurate. They didn't recruit through job postings or career fairs. They hunted. For minds like yours. Sharp, adaptable, willing to dance on the edge of ethics if it meant progress. 

And when they'd found you six months after your disappearance, when they'd slid that first offer across the table with promises of resources beyond imagination and challenges worthy of your mind, you'd said yes without hesitation.

Your new title, Human Augmentation Engineer, rolled off the tongue with clinical precision. The work suited you in ways you hadn't anticipated. Your days were spent in sterile white labs where the air smelled faintly of ozone and disinfectant, your fingers dancing across holographic displays as you designed biomechanical enhancements that pushed the boundaries of human limitation. 

Cardiac regeneration systems that could theoretically keep a heart beating forever. Neural interfaces that blurred the line between human thought and machine precision. 

The ethical implications would have kept a lesser person awake at night. For you, it was just another equation to solve.

The irony wasn't lost on you. EVER was, by any reasonable standard, monstrous. Their research ventured into territories that would terrify most people. Resurrection protocols, memory extraction, experiments that could theoretically stop death. And yet, for the first time in longer than you could remember, you were happy.

Mornings began with the quiet ritual of coffee brewed exactly how you liked it, black with a single sugar, sipped while reviewing data from your latest prototypes. Your colleagues greeted you by name, their respect earned through competence rather than fear. Meetings were lively debates rather than tense performances, your ideas were met with genuine interest rather than dismissal. There was a birthday celebration for you, a real one, with terrible store-bought cake and off-key singing.

Your apartment, small but yours, became a sanctuary. The couch was worn in just the right places, the kitchen stocked with foods you actually enjoyed rather than what was expected. Evenings were spent curled up with research journals or trashy novels, the city lights painting shifting patterns across your walls.

No more straining to hear footsteps in the hallway. No more rehearsing conversations in your head, measuring every word before it left your lips. No more choking on the sound of her laughter ringing through the halls like wind chimes.

You thought about him, of course.

It was impossible not to.

Sometimes when you passed a certain shade of crimson in a shop window, his colour, your breath would catch just for a moment. The scent of expensive bourbon would still make you turn your head. And on rare nights, when sleep eluded you, you'd find yourself wondering. Did he still keep that ridiculous collection of antique pistols? Had he replaced you immediately, or had he waited out of pride, if not sentiment? Was she still there?

But the thoughts came less frequently now. When they did surface, you’d forget about them after a moment or two. Did it hurt? You weren't sure. More importantly, you didn't care enough to find out. This life, this messy, complicated, gloriously ordinary life, was yours by choice. Every late night at the lab, every terrible office party, every quiet evening alone was a decision you'd made for yourself.

And you didn't regret a single second of it.

The past was a closed door.

***

Two years.

Two years of silence.

Two years of waking up expecting to see you in the study, bent over reports with that familiar furrow between your brows. Two years of catching himself turning to make some dry remark, only to remember that there was no one there to hear it. 

He had to admit. You'd outsmarted him.

The realization still tasted like broken glass.

Sylus sat in his office, the glow of a dying fire casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. The room smelled of leather and gun oil, of expensive bourbon left untouched in its crystal decanter. His fingers traced the edge of a file, your file. The one he kept locked in the bottom drawer despite having memorized every word.

Page 37 showed your favorite café, the one with the terrible coffee you pretended to enjoy because the owner reminded you of your grandfather. Page 89 mentioned your habit of humming off-key when working late. Page 203 contained the little notes he’d leave for you around the house. He knew you loved his handwriting. He’d known the moment you asked him to write down everything he needed done instead of telling you. 

He snapped the folder shut.

Mephisto had been his masterpiece. Programmed to follow you silently if you ever left unannounced, to watch over you when he couldn't. A safeguard. A gift, in his own twisted way. But you'd known. Of course you'd known. The way you'd manually shut the bird down with the sole purpose of running away from him, haunted him more than any ghost ever could.

He'd searched every corner of the N109 Zone. Burned through favors, called in debts, even risked venturing into rival territories himself. Nothing. No whispers in the underground, no sightings in the usual haunts. Just empty leads and dead ends piling up like corpses.

His fingers tightened around the glass.

He'd been a fool.

All those carefully calculated moves, every strategic play, and he'd still managed to lose the only piece that ever truly mattered. Standing too close under the guise of examining your work. Leaning down just to catch your scent, ink, gunpowder and something faintly floral. Asking you to move in like some lovesick idiot instead of just saying it.

What kind of boss invites a mere employee to live with him?

The answer burned in his chest.

One who couldn't admit he'd rather die than watch you walk out that door.

His fingers found the scar along his collarbone. Four precise lines from when you'd stitched him up after a job gone awry. You'd been furious he'd gotten shot, even after seeing him heal himself, you still insisted on medical care. Your hands steady but your voice trembling as you told him exactly how stupid he'd been. That was the moment, if he was honest with himself. When he'd known.

Then, a knock came at 2:17 AM.

He didn't bother looking up. "If this is another dead end, don’t bother coming in."

The door creaked open, revealing two familiar silhouettes, tall, lean, their features obscured by those masks they never removed. Even in the dim light, he could tell them apart instantly.

Neither spoke.

Sylus set his glass down with deliberate precision. "Well?"

They exchanged glances, Luke's mask tilting just slightly left, Kieran's right hand twitching toward his hip holster. A full three seconds of silence.

The decanter shattered against the wall behind them.

"Where is she?"

Kieran didn't flinch at the spray of glass. "EVER Group's Bioengineering Division. Senior augmentation specialist." His voice was flat, but the way his thumb rubbed against his index finger.

A long silence. The ticking of the grandfather clock.

The name hit like a bullet. The irony was almost poetic. His brilliant, cautious girl hiding in the belly of the beast itself. His laughter cut through the silence, sharp and humorless. "Of course she is."

Luke’s gaze shifted from Sylus to his brother. Then, all of a sudden he blurted out, "She's happy."

Sylus' cufflink caught the light as he reached for his pistol case.

“Get the car.”

***

The alarm screamed at 5:00 AM.

Your hand slapped over it before the third shrill could shatter the fragile peace of your apartment. For three breaths, you lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling where dawn’s first light painted watercolor streaks through the stained-glass window. The sheets smelled of lavender detergent. Real lavender, not the synthetic crap they pumped through EVER’s ventilation systems.

The shower scalded just shy of painful, steam curling around the bullet scar on your left hip. You scrubbed with a lemon-scented soap, the odour sharp enough to cut through the chemical fog that clung to your skin after long days in the lab. 

The mirror fogged over, but not before you caught sight of the woman staring back. Nearly unrecognizable from the ghost who fled N109 Zone. Your hair was now cropped into a sharp bob, your cheekbones pronounced from actually remembering to eat. Only your hands remained the same. Steady, scarred, capable of both delicacy and breaking a man’s wrist in three places.

You dressed methodically. Black tailored slacks with the hidden knife slit in the right seam, a white blouse buttoned to the collarbones, a lab coat starched stiff as a corpse’s shroud. The ridiculous 3-inch Louboutins Luke stole for your birthday pinched near the pinky toe, but you wore them anyway. The coffee brewed strong enough to dissolve spoons, poured into the chipped World’s Okayest Engineer mug Kieran gifted after your first successful mission.

The elevator to Sublevel 7 smelled like antiseptic and ozone. You balanced the coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, scrolling through today’s schedule when Dr. Cho’s voice interrupted.

“Dr. (reader)!”

He clutched a sealed dossier to his chest like it contained nuclear codes, sweat beading along his receding hairline under the fluorescent lights. “You are reassigned,” he blurted. “Effective immediately.”

The coffee turned to acid in your throat.

Conference Room B smelled like, well, cool, clean air.

Twenty-seven faces stared back as Cho announced Project HDS-7213, EVER’s first live-subject augmentation trial. Your promotion to Lead Biomedical Engineer. The way his voice hitched on live sent a tremor down your spine.

“Congratulations,” Mara whispered, nudging a thicker dossier across the table. “You earned this.”

The file weighed more than it should’ve. Page 1: Subject M-7. Male. 28 years old. Page 3: Evol Classification: Energy Manipulation (Class VIII, potentially IX). Page 9: Containment Protocols: Electromagnetic shackles. Sedation drip. Two cranial failsafe implants.

Your thumb left a smudge on the surveillance photo, a blurred figure in black attire. “Why bother with a photo?” Mara commented.

“Mara,” you murmured, tapping the Evol classification. “We never worked with anyone above Class IV.”

Her knee pressed against yours under the table. “Remember those Tesla-looking monstrosities they brought in last week? Turns out they are portable suppression fields.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Nothing to worry about. I guess.”

Frowning, you turned your gaze back to the file. Your mission was clear cut. Suppress the subject’s Evol to null and transfer it to another subject. You gulped. Wouldn’t that kill him? What had you gotten yourself into?

The walk to Lab 7 took exactly 4 minutes and 37 seconds. You counted each step, each sip of now-cold coffee, each erratic heartbeat as clearance doors hissed open before you. The file revealed another horror. Subject resisted standard sedation (they switched to a veterinary elephant tranquilizer).

The final door required retinal scan and voiceprint.

“Dr. (reader), authorization code Rose-9-White.”

The locks disengaged with a sound like bones breaking.

Lab 7 was colder than the morgue.

Your heels clicked against frosted glass flooring as you approached the observation window. The suppression field hummed at a frequency that made your teeth ache. Coffee sloshed over the rim of your mug as your hands betrayed you.

On the other side of the glass was a man. Not just a subject.

Chained in a chair that looked more like a medieval torture device, his bare torso marked with fresh burns where the electrodes bit into flesh. Blood crusted along his split lip. Silver hair matted with sweat and something darker near the temple. His head lolled forward, chin nearly touching chest, but you could see the rise and fall of ragged breathing.

Then, as if sensing your presence he looked up.

Crimson eyes locked onto yours through the glass. Not the dull gaze of a sedated prisoner. Not the wild glare of a feral test subject.

Your mug shattered on the lab floor.

Because the man strapped to that chair, the man whose file now trembled in your hands, was Sylus.

[kannady]

HEAR ME OUT CALEB GIRLIES......

i think caleb has like a hidden, undiscovered piss kink and when he sees the reader rubbing her thighs together due to the building pressure, the kink comes out. im THIS close to writing a fic about it. should i? 😭😭😭

[kannady]

Just popping in for a quick lil question. where did Rendezvouz part 1 go? :( I was half way through reading it last night but it was gone when I woke up?

i was gonna reread and edit it, but then i forgot. sorry 😭 ive posted it again now!

[kannady]

rendezvous

summary: sylus has realised he's real, but everything around him isn't. but what happens when he decides to kidnap you from the real world?

a/n: as promised here's the long ass second and last part. honestly writing smth as long as this is fun and all, but rechecking it is a pain in the ass. so please ignore any errors. i hope you like reading it as much as i loved writing it. once again thankyou @tofufairy for this wonderful idea! <3

word count: 7.7k

genre: sylus, sylus smut, smut, love and deepspace, sexual tensions, slight stalking, cunnilingus, oral (female receiving), p in v, creampie, sexual content, nsfw. MINORS DNI!

The last bite of chocolate lingered on your tongue as your gaze drifted to the exposed skin of Sylus' throat. The undone buttons of his shirt revealed the sharp cut of his collarbone, the smooth plane of his chest, and you caught yourself wondering if he’d taste like the wine they’d shared or something darker, something just his own.

Then his fingers flexed around his fork, and you realized that he’d noticed.

You jerked your eyes away, clearing your throat nervously. "You promised you'd answer all my questions," you said, gripping the edge of the table like an anchor.

Sylus set his fork down slowly. Then, without a word, he rose and crossed the room to an old record player tucked in the corner. The vinyl hissed as the needle dropped, and a slow, sultry melody filled the air.

He turned back to you, hand outstretched.

"Dance with me," he said, voice rough, "and I will."

Your pulse stuttered.

For a breath, you hesitated. Did you want answers or did you just want him? The way his fingers twitched, impatient, told you he already knew.

You took his hand.

His palm was warm, his grip firm as he pulled you flush against him. One hand settled at the small of your back, pressing just enough to make your breath catch. The other tangled with yours, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles.

"Where are we?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sylus didn’t answer immediately. His gaze stayed locked onto yours, intense, unreadable, as if weighing how much truth you could handle. The music swelled around you, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes.

Finally, he spoke.

"You could say I brought you with me inside the game," he murmured, fingers tightening on your waist.

It seemed as if those words shattered your world. Because that wasn’t an answer, it was a confession.

And you weren’t sure you cared. Not when his lips were so close, not when the hand on your back slid lower.

The game had never felt like this.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to go back.

The music still played, his arms still held you close, but everything felt suddenly too sharp, too real. The warmth of his hands, the scent of him, the weight of his confession hanging between you.

Your fingers tightened on his shoulder, nails digging in just slightly, as if testing whether he’d flinch. He didn’t.

"Why?" you demanded, voice trembling. "Why bring me here?"

Sylus didn’t hesitate. "Because you’re real." His thumb stroked the curve of your hip, slow, deliberate. "And none of this is."

A shudder ran through you. "How did you even leave the game? How is any of this possible?"

"For you," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Your breath hitched. "Millions of people play this game. If you could just, just step out of it, why didn’t anyone notice you were gone? Why only come to me?"

He laughed then, low and dark, the sound curling around you like smoke. "You really don’t know?" His grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer until your chest brushed his with every breath. "I wanted you with me. I wanted something real to live for in this miserable world."

The admission should have thrilled you. Instead, it made your stomach twist.

"But-" You faltered, voice trembling. "You don’t even know me. You like the game’s protagonist. Not... not me."

Sylus went utterly still.

Then, abruptly, he stopped dancing. His hands dropped from your waist, and he stepped back, his expression hardening into something unreadable. For a long moment, he just stared at you, crimson eyes burning with an intensity that made a shiver run down your spine.

"You think," he said slowly, each word deliberate, "after everything I’ve done, after tearing myself out of that godforsaken code, reshaping this world just to hold you, that I don’t know exactly who you are?"

You opened your mouth to protest, to demand more, but he cut you off with a sharp gesture.

"You’re not listening," he said, voice dangerously quiet. "I didn’t bring the protagonist here. I brought you."

The implication hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

He’d chosen you. Not the game. Not the story. You.

And suddenly, the truth of it was terrifying.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, sharp and laced with disbelief.

"Wait, so you did this out of greed?" You took a step back, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin like a brand. "You were... lonely, so you just dragged me here?"*

Sylus froze. His brows furrowed slightly, lips parting as if he’d been struck. For the first time since you’d met him in the game, in this impossible place, he looked lost.

"You don’t even love me," you continued, voice cracking under the weight of the realization. "You love her. The protagonist. The MC. The one written into your story, the one you’ve always smiled at, always fought for. Am I just– what, a replacement? Because you wanted something real to hold onto?"

The air between you grew heavy, suffocating. The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your uneven breaths.

Sylus didn’t move.

Then, slowly, something in his expression shifted. His sharp features softened, the usual smirk gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. His crimson eyes, always so calculating, so knowing, glistened under the dim light, as if your words had carved something out of him.

"You think," he began, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, "that I don’t know the difference?"

You swallowed hard.

He took a step forward, then another, until you could see the flecks of crimson in his irises, the faint tremor in his jaw. "You think I spent months watching you, learning the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating, the way your nose scrunches when you laugh at something stupid, the way you always pick the selfless choices even when it costs you, just to replace you with some scripted fantasy?"

"You think," he began, voice rough, "that I could love a script? A few lines of code designed to make players like you fall for me?" He took a step closer, and you swore you could hear his heartbeat or maybe it was yours, pounding in your ears. "Every word I said to her was for you. Every smile, every touch. Yours."

His hand lifted, hovering near your cheek as if afraid to touch. "You called my name through a screen. You stayed up late just to hear my voice. You-" His voice broke. His eyes were glistening. "You made me real. Not her. Never her."

A tear slipped free, yours or his, you couldn’t tell. His thumb caught it before it could fall, his touch achingly gentle.

"So tell me," he whispered, "who else was I supposed to love?"

Your chest ached.

"I don’t love her," he murmured, his hand lifting, hovering near your face as if afraid to touch. "I never did. Because she isn’t real. But you-" His thumb brushed your cheek, so gently it made your breath catch. "You’re the most real thing I’ve ever known."

The confession hung between you, fragile and terrifying.

You wanted to believe him.

But the doubt still clawed at your ribs. "Then why didn’t you just talk to me? In the real world? Why this?" 

You gestured around at the prison he’d built.

Sylus exhaled, long and slow. "Because out there, I don’t exist." His fingers curled into a fist at his side. "And in here? I can be someone worth loving."

The raw honesty in his voice shattered something inside you. Because now, finally, you understood.

He hadn’t taken you out of selfishness.

He’d done it out of hope.

And tha was so much worse.

Your vision blurred as hot tears welled up, spilling over before you could stop them. You took a shaky step back, the warmth of his touch still seared into your skin. "Sylus, this isn't right..." The words came out broken, barely above a whisper.

The moment they left your lips, something in his face shattered.

"Why are you blaming me for being real?" His voice cracked like ice under pressure. "For having feelings? For loving you?" Each word landed like a blow, his usually composed features twisted in anguish you'd never seen before. Not in the game, not in all your time here.

You shook your head, another tear tracing down your cheek. "You don't love me, Sylus-"

"I saw you in her. Always." He closed the distance between you in one swift movement, his hands coming up to cradle your face with surprising gentleness despite their trembling. "I've always loved you." His thumbs brushed away your tears, the leather of his gloves surprisingly soft against your skin. The scent of winter mint and something uniquely him.

"How do I make you believe me, sweetie?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his forehead nearly touching yours. "I wish I could show you what lengths I'm willing to go for you."

Your breath hitched as memories flashed through your mind. The library with its impossibly rare books, the bedroom crafted to your exact tastes down to the smallest detail, the way he'd remembered your favorite shade of pink. The way his eyes lit up when you laughed, the care he took in preparing every meal, the piano music drifting through the halls.

But then the darker thoughts crept in. The way he'd taken you from your world without asking. The way he'd watched you for months through a screen. 

You could feel his breath mingling with yours, see the desperate hope in those crimson eyes that usually held nothing but cool confidence. The realization hit you like a physical blow, he was terrified. Terrified you'd reject him. Terrified that after everything, it still wouldn't be enough.

The conflict tore at you. Part of you wanted to melt into his touch, to believe every word. Another part screamed that none of this was normal, that love shouldn't come with kidnapping.

But when his thumb brushed your lower lip so gently it made your knees weak, when you saw the unshed tears glistening in his eyes. Eyes you'd stared at through a screen for so many lonely nights. You couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

Because the most terrifying realization of all?

Part of you wanted to stay.

The moment stretched between you.You could see the intention in Sylus’ eyes as he leaned in, the way his lashes lowered slightly, the way his breath hitched just before he closed that final inch of distance. His lips were parted ever so slightly, and you caught the faintest scent of the dark coffee he’d been drinking earlier, mingled with something warmer, something him.

But at the last second, you turned your face away.

His lips brushed your cheek instead, so soft it might have been imagined. He froze. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. You could feel the heat of him so close, the tension in his body, the way his fingers flexed against your jaw as if fighting the urge to pull you back.

Then, slowly, he straightened.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Your pulse roared in your ears, your skin still tingling where he’d almost kissed you. You wanted it. God, you wanted it. But the weight of everything. The mansion, the game, the way he’d taken you here, sat heavy in your chest, a knot of fear and longing tangled together so tightly you couldn’t separate them.

Sylus didn’t move.

You could feel his gaze on you, burning, waiting. He didn’t push. Didn’t demand. Didn’t try to convince you again. He just stood there, his presence a silent question, his hands now limp at his sides.

A floorboard creaked somewhere in the mansion, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. The scent of the candles, vanilla and something smokier, like sandalwood, clung to the air, suddenly overwhelming. Your fingers trembled at your sides, and you clenched them into fists, nails biting into your palms.

Still, you didn’t speak. Still, you didn’t look at him.

And then a quiet exhale. The barest rustle of fabric as he stepped back.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you heard his footsteps retreating, measured and slow, as if giving you every possible chance to call him back. The distance between you grew, the warmth of his body fading, leaving you cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Only when the sound of his footsteps completely disappeared did you finally lift your head.

The dining room was empty.

The candles still flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the untouched dishes. The record had long since ended, the needle stuck in a silent, endless loop. Your reflection in the polished tabletop looked pale, wide-eyed, a stranger staring back at you.

You sank into the nearest chair, your legs suddenly unsteady.

What had you just done?

Part of you ached to run after him, to take back the unspoken rejection. You remembered the way his voice had cracked when he’d said I’ve always loved you, the rawness in his eyes when he’d realized you didn’t believe him. He’d spent his entire existence in a world that wasn’t real, surrounded by characters who weren’t real, loving a protagonist who wasn’t real, until he’d seen you.

And you’d turned him away.

Your fingers traced the edge of the table, the wood smooth beneath your touch. The mansion was so quiet now. No distant piano music, no footsteps, no low murmur of his voice. Just the oppressive silence.

You thought of the library, of the way he’d watched you as you’d pulled books from the shelves, his expression soft in a way the game had never shown. You thought of your bedroom, of every little detail he’d remembered, every trinket he’d placed there just to see you smile. You thought of the way he’d looked at you tonight, like you were the only real thing in his world.

And you’d walked away.

A sound escaped you, half laugh, half sob, as you pressed your palms into your eyes. You were such a coward. You wanted him. You ached for him. But the fear, the fear of what it meant, of what he’d done to bring you here, of the fact that none of this should be possible, had won.

The clock on the mantel ticked loudly, each second stretching into an eternity.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, staring at the untouched glass of wine in front of you, the liquid long gone still. The candles burned lower, their glow dimming as wax pooled at their bases.

And Sylus didn’t return.

Eventually, you pushed yourself up, your body heavy with exhaustion. The halls of the mansion stretched before you, dark and empty. Your footsteps echoed as you made your way back to your room, the door clicking shut behind you.

The bed was still perfectly made, the pillows fluffed, the blankets turned down, as if waiting for you. As if he’d known you’d come back here alone.

You curled into yourself beneath the covers, staring at the canopy above.

Somewhere, in this impossible house, in this impossible world, Sylus was alone too.

And for the first time since you’d arrived, you wondered which of you was more trapped.

The hours stretched endlessly as you lay there, the plush comforter beneath you suddenly feeling too soft, too suffocating. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, painting silver streaks across the ceiling. You traced them with your eyes, your mind racing through every moment since you'd arrived in this impossible place.

Your favorite fictional character had somehow stepped out of the game. For you.

The thought alone should have thrilled you. It had, at first. The library with its rare books, the bedroom crafted to your exact tastes, the way he'd remembered every little detail about you, your favorite color, the way you took your coffee, the anime merch you'd never been able to afford. He'd given you everything you'd ever wanted, everything you'd daydreamed about during lonely nights scrolling through your phone.

And now?

Now you'd pushed him away.

You rolled onto your side, fingers clutching the pillow beneath your head. Had you ruined everything? The way he'd looked at you, like you were the only real thing in his world, flashed behind your eyes. The rawness in his voice when he'd said I've always loved you. The way he'd stopped when you turned away, even though he could have easily forced the kiss, could have made you stay.

But he hadn't.

Because despite everything, despite the fact that he'd taken you here, he'd still given you a choice. A shaky breath escaped you.

Even if you wanted to go back now, you'd need his help. The realization settled heavily in your chest. You had no idea how this world worked, no idea how to return to your own. The thought should have terrified you, and it did, a little. But beneath the fear, there was something else.

Did you even want to go back?

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Right now, all you wanted was to see him. To talk to him. To feel him, the warmth of his hands, the solidness of his chest beneath your palms, the way his breath hitched when you got too close.

Your gaze flicked to the ornate clock on the nightstand. 3:17 AM.

What was he doing right now?

Was he lying awake too, staring at some ceiling of his own, thinking of you? Was he in that grand library, fingers trailing over the spines of books he'd collected just for you? Or was he at the piano again, playing that same melancholy melody, his silver hair catching the moonlight like frost?

The thought of him alone, hurting because of you, made your chest ache.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you pushed back the covers and stood. The floor was cool beneath your bare feet as you treaded to the door, your pulse thrumming in your throat.

You had to find him. You needed to.

The hallway stretched before you, dark and silent. Somewhere in this mansion, Sylus was waiting. And this time, you wouldn't turn away.

***

Sylus sat on the edge of his bed, his body rigid, his hands clenched into tight fists on his knees. The room around him was dark, the only light coming from the pale moonlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He just stared blankly at the opposite wall, as if he could erase the last few hours from existence if he focused hard enough.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The way you had looked at him, like he was something terrifying, something wrong. The way you had turned your face away when he’d tried to kiss you. The way your voice had trembled when you’d accused him of being greedy, of dragging you into his world without a second thought for what you wanted.

And you had been right.

A hot tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. Then another. He didn’t wipe them away. He just let them fall, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Pathetic.

He had spent so long watching you from behind the screen, memorizing every little thing that made you smile, every detail that made you you. He had built this entire world for you, crafted every room, every book, every piece of clothing to perfection, all because he had been lonely. Because he had wanted you to look at him the way you’d looked at the screen.

But he had never stopped to think about what you might feel.

He had been selfish. Desperate. Greedy.

A broken laugh escaped him, harsh and humorless. He had spent his entire existence inside a game, surrounded by scripted lines and predetermined choices, and yet this was the first time he had ever truly felt real. And now he had ruined it.

Sylus leaned back against the headboard, pressing his palms against his eyes. He didn’t want to think about you. Didn’t want to imagine the fear in your expression, the way you had flinched away from him.

But he couldn’t help it. Because even now, even after everything, he still loved you, still wanted you.

And that was the worst part.

***

Your bare feet tingled across the cold marble floors as you stepped through the darkened halls. The mansion felt too vast, too silent, every corner and empty room a reminder of the distance you'd put between you.

You checked the library first, nothing. The piano in the garden sat untouched, its keys cold. Even the kitchen, where he'd prepared every meal with such care, stood empty.

Then, at last, you pushed open the door to what must have been his bedroom.

Oh. Shit.

You froze, one foot still hovering over the threshold. You should have knocked. What if he..

But then you saw him.

Sylus lay half-propped against the headboard, his silver-white hair messed up from restless fingers, his lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks. Moonlight spilled across him, gilding the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his parted lips. He looked younger like this, softer. The usual sharpness in his features was smoothed by sleep.

You held your breath as you crept closer, the plush carpet muffling your steps. For a moment, you just stood there, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as you crawled toward him.

He didn't stir.

Up close, you could see the faint furrow between his brows, the way his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets. Had he cried himself to sleep? The thought sent an ache through your chest.

Slowly, so slowly, you reached out.

Your fingertips brushed his cheek first, warm, so warm, the stubble rough against your skin. He exhaled softly at the contact but didn't wake. Emboldened, you traced the bridge of his nose, the curve of his bottom lip, marveling at the reality of him. The game had never captured the way his breath hitched when you touched him, the way his skin flushed slightly under your fingers.

Real. He was real.

And in this moment, with the moonlight painting him in shades of silver and blue, with the quiet intimacy of his sleeping form beneath your hands, you couldn't remember why you'd ever pushed him away.

Your thumb brushed over his lip one last time and crimson eyes flicked open.

You froze.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then Sylus's hand came up, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. Not pulling away. Just holding.

"Still doubting I'm real?" he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Your breath hitched as crimson eyes locked onto yours, and for a second, panic spiked through you. Why did he have to wake up right now? You jerked your hand back, but his grip on your wrist stayed firm, not tight enough to trap you, but enough to make your pulse stutter.

You looked away first, your face burning. The room suddenly felt too small, the moonlight too bright, the silence between you too loud. What were you even supposed to say? Sorry I was creeping on you while you slept? Sorry I pushed you away earlier?

When you dared to glance back, Sylus was still watching you, his head tilted slightly, that infuriatingly knowing glint in his eyes. He didn’t speak. Just waited.

So you took a shaky breath and let the words spill out.

"Sylus, I’m sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I-I don’t know what you must have been going through all this time. Trapped in a world that wasn’t real, surrounded by people who weren’t real. And then I... I acted like you were the one who didn’t understand." You swallowed hard. "Maybe I was being too hesitant. Too scared."

Still, he said nothing. Just listened, his thumb absently stroking the inside of your wrist, sending little shocks of warmth up your arm.

"It’s just-" You huffed a frustrated laugh, your free hand gesturing vaguely. "None of this is supposed to be possible. You’re not supposed to be real. And yet here you are, and you… you know me. Better than anyone. And that’s terrifying."

Your voice cracked. "Because what if I’m not who you think I am? What if you’re disappointed?" The words hung between you, raw and vulnerable.

Sylus didn’t immediately respond. He just studied you, his gaze tracing every flicker of emotion on your face. Then, slowly, he tugged you closer, until your knees brushed against his thigh.

"Sweetie," he murmured, his voice rough with something that made your chest tighten. "Do you really think I’d go through all this trouble for someone I didn’t know?"

His free hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. "You’re not a character in a game. You’re messy. You’re stubborn. You overthink everything." His lips quirked. "And I like that. All of it."

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders dropping. "So... you’re not mad?"

"Oh, I’m furious," he responded. Then, softer, "But not at you."

His fingers slid into your hair, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I should’ve given you time. Should’ve asked instead of just taking you." His thumb traced your bottom lip. "But I’m selfish. And impatient. And I wanted you here."

The admission should have scared you. Instead, it just made your heart ache.

"I’m still scared," you admitted quietly.

Sylus hummed, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. "Good," he murmured. "So am I."

Your forehead pressed against his, breaths mingling in the narrow space between your lips. His exhales were warm and uneven, fanning over your mouth in a way that made your skin prickle with anticipation. Without thinking, your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips and his grip on the back of your head tightened ever so slightly in response.

Sylus leaned in slowly, his movements deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. But when his lips were just a hair's breadth from yours, he paused, crimson eyes searching yours one last time.

Permission. He was asking.

Something inside you melted at the realization.

Instead of answering with words, you closed the distance yourself.

Your lips met his in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, testing. His mouth was warmer than you'd imagined, the faint taste of coffee and something uniquely him lingering on your tongue. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you back with a tenderness that contradicted everything you knew about him.

Then his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the kiss deepened.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, drawing a quiet gasp from you that he swallowed hungrily. Every point of contact between you burned, his chest pressed against yours, his thigh between your knees, his fingers tightening in your hair just enough to make your pulse spike.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless.

Sylus didn't let you go far. His forehead came to rest against yours again, his breathing ragged. 

"Convinced yet?" he murmured, voice rough with want.

You huffed a laugh, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "I think I need more evidence."

His answering smirk was all the warning you got before he claimed your lips again.

The moment your lips met again, any remaining hesitation burned away in the heat between you. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that stole your breath, his tongue sliding past your lips in a claiming sweep that made your toes curl. You moaned into the kiss, fingers tangling in his silver-white hair, tugging just hard enough to draw a growl from deep in his throat.

Sylus didn’t just kiss you, he devoured you.

Every slide of his tongue was a challenge, every nip of his teeth a demand. You met him stroke for stroke, your thighs clenching together as wetness pooled in your panties. His hands roamed your back, pressing you impossibly closer until you could feel the hard planes of his body against every inch of yours.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, you were met with an unexpected sight.

A rosy blush staining Sylus’ sharp cheekbones, his lips swollen from your kisses.

You couldn’t help the breathless chuckle that escaped you. "Sylus," you teased, thumb brushing over his heated skin, "are you blushing?"

His crimson eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous and utterly delighted passing through them. His hand slid down to grip your hip, fingers pressing possessively into your flesh as he leaned in, his voice a low, rough purr against your ear.

"Do you see what you do to me, kitten?"

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he captured your lips again.

In one swift motion, Sylus pulled you up into his lap, your legs straddling his waist as he claimed your mouth again in a searing kiss. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp, a sound he swallowed with a satisfied hum.

His lips left yours only to trail down the column of your throat, teeth scraping lightly over your pulse point before sucking a mark into your skin. You arched into him, fingers tightening in his hair as a breathy moan escaped you.

"Sylus-"

His name on your lips seemed to unravel him. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, and what you saw in his crimson eyes stole your breath. Raw, unfiltered desire, a hunger so deep it made your stomach flip.

"Am I being too greedy," you whispered, your thumb brushing his cheekbone, "if I ask you to keep your eyes only on me?"

A low, rough laugh rumbled in his chest. "You always had that right." His hands slid up your sides, possessive. "Which means you can be even greedier." He nipped at your jaw. "Do you want it, kitten?"

"Yes." The word left you in a rush, barely more than a breath.

Sylus groaned, his lips finding your neck again, then your jaw, then the shell of your ear, each kiss hotter than the last. "I’m hoping yes is still your answer," he murmured, voice thick with need, "because I just can’t hold back anymore."

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he stood from the bed, your legs locking around his waist. You barely had time to register the movement before your back met the softness of the mattress, Sylus hovering above you, his silver hair framing his face like a halo in the moonlight.

"Last chance to say no," he breathed, though the way his hands trembled against your skin told you how much the words cost him.

You answered by pulling him down to you, sealing your lips against his in a kiss that held no hesitation, no fear, just want.

His mouth crashed into yours like a drowning man gasping for air, hot, desperate, and utterly consuming. You could taste the hunger in every searing kiss, the way his teeth nipped at your bottom lip before his tongue swept in to soothe the sting.

Then, without breaking the kiss, he gripped the fabric of your sleeve between his teeth and tugged it down your shoulder with deliberate slowness, his crimson eyes locked onto yours the entire time. The cool air hit your exposed skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to devour you whole.

His lips left yours to trail down your jaw, your neck, your newly bared shoulder, each kiss searing a brand into your skin. You arched into him with a gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his way lower, his teeth grazing your collarbone just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

He didn’t stop there.

His mouth traced a slow, torturous path down your arm, kissing, nipping, licking, until he reached your wrist. Then, with a final, lingering press of his lips to your palm, he turned your hand over and met your gaze again, his breath hot against your skin.

"Still with me, kitten?" he murmured, his voice rough with want.

The moment his lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear, a shiver raced down your spine. His fingers trailed down your back, finding the hidden zipper of your dress with practiced ease. As the fabric loosened, sliding down your shoulders, you caught the flicker of his gaze, dark with desire, but with a faint blush creeping up his neck.

He was blushing.

The realization sent a thrill through you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as you worked them open one by one. His breath hitched when your palms skimmed over his toned abs, tracing them with slow, teasing strokes.

When your hand drifted lower, brushing over the hardness straining against his jeans, his entire body tensed. But before you could go further, his fingers closed around your wrist, stopping you.

"Let me make you feel good tonight, kitten," he murmured, his voice rough with restraint.

His thumb brushed over your pulse point, his crimson eyes burning into yours. "Just you."

Then his mouth was on your neck again, his free hand sliding up your bare thigh.

His fingers traced slow, teasing paths up your bare thighs, the calloused pads of his fingertips dragging just hard enough to make your breath hitch. When he reached the damp lace of your panties, he paused, his thumb brushing over the soaked fabric with a low hum.

"Fuck, kitten," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Already this wet for me?"

You whimpered as his fingers pressed harder, circling the aching bundle of nerves through the thin material. Your hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more friction, but he tutted, his grip tightening on your thigh to hold you still.

"Patience," he hummed, though the dark hunger in his crimson eyes betrayed his own restraint.

With deliberate slowness, he peeled your dress the rest of the way off, letting it pool around your waist before his hands moved to the clasp of your bra. The second it came undone, his mouth was on you, hot and greedy. His tongue swirled around one peaked nipple, then the other, sucking just hard enough to make your back arch off the bed.

"Sylus-!" Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as pleasure coiled tight in your core.

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending another jolt of heat straight between your legs. "Love the way you say my name," he murmured before nipping lightly at the soft underside of your breast.

His lips trailed lower, kissing a searing path down your stomach, his tongue dipping into the hollow of your navel. You squirmed beneath him, your thighs trembling as he reached the waistband of your panties, but instead of removing them, he hooked his fingers into the lace and dragged them to the side, exposing you completely.

His breath hitched.

"Perfect," he growled.

Then his mouth was on you.

The first lick was light as a feather, just a teasing swipe of his tongue over your clit that had you gasping. The second was firmer, more deliberate, and by the third, he was devouring you like a man starved. His lips closed around your clit, sucking hard before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud in rapid, relentless circles.

"Oh, god-!" Your back arched, your hands fisting in the sheets as pleasure crashed over you in waves.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core. "You taste even better than I imagined,kitten," he rasped before diving back in with renewed hunger.

His fingers joined his mouth, two slipping inside you with ease, curling just right to stroke that sweet spot that made your vision blur. Your hips rocked against his face, chasing the building pressure, but he held you down with his free hand, his grip unyielding.

"That's it, kitten," he murmured between licks. "Let go for me.”

And when you finally shattered, his name on your lips and his tongue drawing out every last shuddering wave of pleasure, he didn't stop, not until you were limp and trembling beneath him, oversensitive and utterly spent.

Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening, his gaze locked onto yours with dark satisfaction.

"Mine," he breathed, like it was the only truth that mattered.

Your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath as you watched him unbuckle his belt with deliberate slowness, the leather sliding free. His jeans fell to the floor, and your gaze dropped.

Oh.

A dark, wet patch stained the front of his boxers, the fabric clinging to the thick outline of his cock beneath. He palmed himself through the material with a rough groan, his head tilting back, the muscles in

his neck straining. The sight of him so desperate, so needy, made your mouth water and panties wetter.

Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed his boxers down, freeing himself.

Your breath caught.

He was big, thick and flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He wrapped his hand around his length, giving himself a slow stroke, his hips jerking slightly into the touch. His crimson eyes locked onto yours as he bit out, "Fuck, sweetie. You’re watching me like you want to taste."

You did.

But before you could move, he was on the bed, hovering over you. His fingers slid between your thighs, gathering the slick arousal coating your folds, then dragging up to circle your clit, making you gasp. He didn't stop there. His wet fingers wrapped around his cock, spreading your wetness over his length as he stroked himself again, his groan vibrating through you.

Then he was pressing the head of his cock against your entrance, rubbing slow, teasing circles. "Is this what you want, kitten?" he gritted out, his voice wrecked.

You could only nod, your hips lifting toward him in silent pleas.

He smirked , that infuriating, perfect smirk, and finally pushed inside.

The moment he entered you, your breath caught in your throat, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as you arched your back in delicious surrender. His thick, throbbing length stretched you exquisitely, filling you so completely that your inner walls instinctively clenched around him, desperate to keep him buried deep inside. He paused, letting you adjust, his dark eyes burning with hunger as he watched your face twist in pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, his voice rough with need.

You could feel every inch of him, every vein, the way his cock pulsed inside you, the way your body yielded to him so perfectly. And then he moved slow at first, a torturous drag of his shaft against your sensitive walls, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the rhythm growing faster, harder, until you were both lost in the primal heat.

Your nails raked down his back as he pounded into you, his hips pistoning with relentless fervor. The heat between your bodies was unbearable, sweat glistening on your skin as you writhed beneath him. Every snap of his hips sent shockwaves through you, your moans growing louder, more desperate.

Then your eyes fluttered open, drawn to the mirror above. The sight was breathtaking, his sculpted body moving over yours, his back muscles flexing with each deep thrust, his cock disappearing into your slick, willing clit over and over again. The visual was intoxicating, and you whimpered, your arousal spiking at the sheer sight of it.

He noticed your gaze and smirked, his fingers tightening on your hips before he suddenly pulled out completely, leaving you empty and aching.

"Come here, sweetie," he commanded, patting his lap.

You didn't hesitate, straddling him eagerly, your wetness coating his thighs as you sank down onto him in one smooth, delicious motion. His groan was deep, guttural, as your tight warmth enveloped him again. Leaning back against the headrest, he gave you full view in the mirror, his thick cock buried inside you, your body taking him so perfectly.

His hands found your breasts, palming and kneading the soft flesh, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples until you were whimpering. Then he leaned forward, capturing one peak between his lips, sucking hard before grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud. You cried out, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding down on him as pleasure shot through you.

“That's it, ride me like a good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his hands gripping your waist, guiding your movements.

You obeyed, lifting yourself almost all the way off before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. The friction was divine, his cock rubbing against every sweet spot inside you. The mirror reflected your desperate movements, your breasts bouncing, your body glistening with sweat, his thick length glistening with your arousal as you rode him harder, faster.

You could feel your climax building, coiling tight in your core, your walls fluttering around him. "Sylus, I'm... I'm going to-” you panted, your voice breaking as pleasure threatened to consume you.

And he knew. With a wicked grin, he thrust up into you with renewed force, his fingers digging into your hips as he drove you toward the edge. The sounds of your bodies colliding were filthy, wet, obscene, moans mingling, the slick sound of his cock plunging into your dripping pussy.

Just as you were about to shatter, he pulled out again, leaving you trembling on the brink. A whimper of protest escaped your lips, but before you could beg, he spun you around, bending you over the edge of the bed. His hand gripped the back of your neck, holding you down as he positioned himself behind you.

One powerful thrust, and he was inside you again, deeper than before, his cock stretching you impossibly wide. You screamed, the fullness overwhelming as he began pounding into you with brutal, unrelenting force.

"Fuck, you take me so well," he growled, his voice dark with desire.

Each thrust sent jolts of pleasure through you, his pelvis slamming against your ass, the sound lewd and intoxicating. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every pulse of his arousal as he fucked you with wild abandon. His fingers dug into your hips, his grip possessive, claiming.

"You're mine," he snarled, his pace becoming erratic, his breathing ragged.

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning, your body convulsing around him as pleasure ripped through you in violent waves. Your walls clenched, milking his cock as you cried out, your vision whiting out from the intensity.

Feeling you tighten around him, he lost control, slamming into you one final time before burying himself to the hilt. A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came, his hot seed flooding your depths in thick, pulsing ropes. You could feel him twitching inside you, his release endless as he held you tightly against him, both of you trembling from the force of your climax.

He collapsed over you, his breath hot against your skin as you both struggled to come down from the high. 

His lips found your shoulder, pressing a lazy kiss there before murmuring, "Fuck, you're perfect." 

And you lay there, still connected, still throbbing from the pleasure.

He pulled out slowly, careful not to jostle you too much, and you exhaled, a long, trembling breath, as he leaned over you, pushing the damp strands of hair from your forehead. His fingers were warm against your skin, brushing gently, as if memorizing the way your lashes fluttered against flushed cheeks. He kissed your forehead, lingering there for a moment, his lips soft and reassuring.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, voice rough but tender, and you nodded, boneless in his hands.

He left you just long enough to run the bath. You heard the rush of water, the quiet clink of the faucet as he adjusted the temperature. 

When he returned, he gathered you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly, and you melted against his chest, your face tucked into the curve of his neck. The bathroom was already hazy with steam, the air thick with the scent of lavender from the oil he’d added to the water.

He lowered you into the tub with infinite care, one hand braced against the small of your back, the other guiding your legs in. The heat was perfect, sinking into your muscles, winding off the last of the tension coiled in your limbs. 

You sighed, tipping your head back as his hands glided over your skin, smoothing soap along your arms, your collarbones, the dip of your waist. He was thorough but unhurried, washing away the sweat and the lingering heat of your bodies.

When the water cooled, he helped you out, wrapping you in a towel so large it swallowed you whole. He patted you dry with the same slow attention, dabbing at your shoulders, the backs of your knees, the delicate skin of your wrists, before turning his focus to your hair. 

The towel was soft as he gathered the damp strands, squeezing out the excess water before combing his fingers through the lengths, untangling the knots with a patience that made your chest ache.

You were drowsy by the time he finished, your eyelids heavy, your body loose with warmth and contentment. He chuckled, low and fond, and lifted you again, carrying you back to the bedroom where the sheets had already been changed, fresh and cool against your skin as he tucked you in.

"Wait," you mumbled, catching his wrist as he moved to pull away.

He hesitated, still half-dressed, still damp from the bath, but you tugged, insistent, and he complied, sliding in beside you. You curled into him immediately, your head pillowed on his chest, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. 

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and you could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

"Sleep. I’ve got you," he whispered, pressing his lips to your hair.

another cute gif

tags: @harbingers-lullaby, @crimsonsylus, @theshadowsdragon, @dummiebunny, @nm4565natty, @robotinvenus, @librarydame, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @myeagleexpert, @seventeen-x, @randomness39, @amiamango, @fangbangerghoul

[kannady]

rendezvous

summary: sylus has realised he's real, but everything around him isn't. but what happens when he decides to kidnap you from the real world?

a/n: ok! so contrary to my expectation, this week wasnt bad at all, just super tiring. i had no time to read anything let alone write. but i have a couple days off so hopefully ill finish this one. also this lovely idea from @tofufairy was just too good to only write as a oneshot. ill write it in two long ass parts. lemme know your thoughts!

word count: 6k

genre: sylus, love and deepspace, sexual tensions. slight stalking.

read part two here!

Sylus wiped grease from his knuckles with a ragged cloth, squinting at the bike’s engine like it had personally offended him. The bike wasn’t even broken, he just needed something to do with his hands, something to keep the silence at bay. The garage was quiet except for the occasional plink of a loose bolt hitting concrete and the distant hum of traffic. Then, footsteps. Light, almost skipping.

He didn’t look up until she was right beside him, her shadow stretching across his toolbox.

“Hey!” she said, voice bright enough to make his teeth ache. “Nice bike. Vintage, right?”

Sylus clenched his jaw. Don’t engage. She’ll leave if you don’t engage. He grunted, flicking a speck of rust off the carburetor.

She didn’t take the hint. Leaning in, she tapped the fuel tank like they were old friends. “My neighbour used to have one just like this. Well, almost like this. His was blue, and the seat had this weird tear-”

“Mhm.” Sylus reached for a wrench, deliberately turning his back.

“-oh, you’re so right, it’s totally going to rain later-”

Sylus stared.

Her voice twisted, warped. The words melted together like a shrill. His chest ached, hollow and heavy all at once. He knew this feeling. The one that came after the anger, when the fire burned out and left nothing but ashes.

Alone.

Even when she was here, screaming at nothing, he was alone.

She kept talking. About the weather. About some café down the street. About nothing, really. He tuned it out, focusing on tightening a bolt until his fingers hurt.

Finally, he stood, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He didn’t bother with a goodbye, just walked toward the garage door, her voice still bouncing off the concrete walls behind him.

Then it hit him. The talking hadn’t stopped.

He glanced back.

She was still there, grinning at the empty space where he’d been standing, gesturing animatedly to no one. Her laughter echoed, high and bright, as if he’d never left.

Sylus exhaled through his nose. Not real. Again.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

Somewhere behind him, she was still laughing. Somewhere inside him, the silence was worse. (a/n: cue play last of us intro)

***

The clock glared at you from the corner of the screen. 11:47 PM.

Twelve minutes. Twelve fucking minutes.

Your fingers hammered the keyboard like it had personally wronged you. The essay was done, mostly, but the last paragraph was a wreck of half-formed thoughts and caffeine-induced word vomit. You backspaced violently, teeth sinking into your lower lip. “Come on, come on.”

Your roommate’s cat, a judgmental ball of fur called Binx, hopped onto the desk and sat on your notes.

“Not now,” you hissed, nudging him away. Binx flicked his tail in your face and settled just out of arm’s reach, watching you suffer with unblinking yellow eyes.

11:53.

You skimmed the essay one last time, your vision blurring from screen fatigue. Was that a typo? Did you mix up “affect” and “effect” again? The words swam on the screen, morphing into meaningless shapes. 

Good enough. With a shaky breath, you hit Submit.

The page loaded with agonizing slowness.

11:58.

Your knee bounced under the desk. The cursor spun. Spin, spin, spin.

Submitted successfully!

The clock ticked over to 11:59.

You made a sound between a sob and a laugh, slumping back in your chair. The tension drained from your shoulders all at once, leaving you boneless. For a long moment, you just stared at the ceiling, your heartbeat finally slowing. The desk lamp cast long shadows, the room suddenly too bright, too quiet.

Binx meowed, unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, but there was no heat in it. The relief was too sweet.

You got out of the chair, your muscles protesting like you’d run a marathon instead of typing. The shower beckoned you. Hot, steamy, glorious. You turned the water up until it nearly scalded, letting it pound the stress from your back. The shampoo smelled like coconuts, the steam fogging up the mirror until your reflection vanished. For the first time in weeks, you could finally breathe.

After, you slipped into your favorite slip dress. The oversized lavender one that pooled around your thighs. Your skin still hummed with the warmth of the shower, hair dripping lazily onto your shoulders.

Then, the real reward.

You snatched your phone off the charger, thumb hovering over the app you hadn’t opened in weeks. Love & Deepspace, the game you’d been too buried in assignments to touch. Just the icon made your pulse skip. The opening theme swelled as it loaded, the familiar melody wrapping around you.

“Please don’t crash. Please don’t-”

The home screen loaded, vibrant and welcoming. A rush of warmth flooded your chest. God, you’d missed this. Missed the pixel-perfect smiles of your favorite characters, the cheesy dialogues, the way your stomach fluttered during the romance scenes. It was stupid. It was perfect.

You curled onto your bed, pulling the comforter up to your chin. Binx settled beside you, purring.

For the first time in forever, you grinned.

“Alright, boys,” she whispered to the screen. “Let’s fall in love.”

You blinked at the screen, waiting.

The Destiny Café’s afternoon glow bathed everything in honeyed light. Cozy, inviting, but wrong. Because he wasn’t there.

Sylus should have been front and center, seated on the couch with that infuriating smirk, his silver-white hair catching the light like frost under the sun. His crimson eyes like blood spilled over fresh snow, should have been locked onto the screen, onto you, with that knowing glint that always made your stomach flip.

But the space where he usually stood was empty. Just an untouched coffee cup and the faint imprint of where his hip would have rested on the couch.

Your finger hovered over the screen.

What the hell?

You switched to Rafayel. He appeared instantly, greeting you with a soft smile. Then Zayne, Xavier, Caleb. All were present. Exactly as they should’ve been. But Sylus?

Gone.

You reloaded. Same empty café. Same hollow silence where his voice should have been.

A weird, creeping unease settled in your chest. This wasn’t right. Sylus wasn’t some side character. He was Sylus, the one who always greeted you, made you laugh but did, the one whose rare, genuine smile felt like a secret just for you.

You clicked the “Date” option. His name was still there. But his icon was grayed out, as if you’d never unlocked him. But you had. You knew you had. You remembered the grind, the late nights, the way your heart jumped when his story finally unfolded. You remembered the exact shade of his eyes. His sly remarks. 

And now?

Now it was just… nothing.

The game hummed on, oblivious. The other characters chatted, flirted, existed like nothing was wrong.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was.

Where the hell was Sylus?

You switched characters again, as if he'd magically appear this time. But no. His spot remained empty. No silver-white hair catching the light, no crimson eyes glinting with amusement. Just emptiness.

Frustration settled under your skin. You exited the game, force-closed it, reopened it. Same empty café. Same missing man.

“Okay, maybe it’s just a bug.”

You hopped onto Reddit, scrolling through forums, searching for anything about Sylus missing. But there was nothing. No posts, no complaints, no panicked "Where's Sylus??" threads. Just the usual chatter. Fan theories, event guides, thirst edits about the other guys.

Your stomach twisted. 

Why was no one else talking about this?

You checked the official website. No mention of him being removed. No maintenance notices. It was like the universe had decided to gaslight you.

What was the point of playing if he wasn't here?

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table. 2:43 AM. You were too tired for this. Maybe it was just a weird glitch. Maybe tomorrow, when you logged back in, he'd be there like nothing had happened.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand, flicked off the light, and yanked the covers over your head.

***

You were jolted awake by a sudden, unnatural sensation. Not by any sound or dream, but by the distinct feeling of movement while lying completely still. Your eyes flew open to complete darkness, but this wasn't the familiar comforting dark of your bedroom. The air felt charged.

You rubbed your eyes and felt yourself lifting, floating, as if gravity had momentarily forgotten you existed. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized you were actually hovering, weightless. Before panic could fully take hold, you sensed a presence beside you, touching you. The heat from his body searing through his clothes, enveloping you. Did someone kidnap you?

Slowly, almost afraid of what you might see, you turned your head.

And there, carrying you bridal style, was Sylus. Not as pixels on a screen, but as a living, breathing being. His silver-white hair seemed to glow faintly in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting off fresh snow. Those crimson eyes, the ones you'd have known anywhere, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart pound violently against your chest.

"You noticed," he murmured, his voice deeper and richer than you'd ever imagined, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. The scent of winter air and something faintly metallic, like cold steel, surrounded him. Every rational thought screamed that this couldn't be real, that you had to be dreaming, but the warmth of his breath against your skin felt terrifyingly real.

He smirked, that same infuriatingly perfect smirk you'd seen a hundred times on your phone screen, but now it was directed at you in a way that made your stomach flip. In this impossible moment, only one thought rang clear in your overwhelmed mind. He was real, he was here, and nothing would ever be the same again.

How the hell was he here and not in the game? But he wasn’t actually here, right? You were probably just dreaming. A dream that felt dangerously real. That had your heartbeat accelerating, the hairs on the back of your neck standing upright, your palms clammy, and your thoughts all mushed up. 

In that moment, you could think of nothing else but to do the only sane thing. The one thing any normal person would do. You screamed. Maybe Sylus wasn’t expecting that. He stopped in his tracks and just for a faint second, you noticed his eyes widen. Your scream tore through the night air. Before the second shriek could escape, Sylus' gloved hand clamped over your mouth. 

The leather smelled faintly of gun oil and winter mint, an unsettlingly human detail for someone who shouldn't exist.

"Easy there, little kitten," he murmured, crimson eyes glinting with amusement under the moonlight. "We're in the N109 Zone. Do you really want an audience here?" 

His thumb brushed your cheekbone almost tenderly as he said it, lingering for just a moment longer, making your pulse stutter.

The scream died in your throat as his words registered. N109 Zone. You'd seen it in the game before. You remembered what almost happened to the MC when she first came here. Your wide eyes darted past Sylus' shoulder, finally taking in your surroundings properly.

Moonlight bled through the trees, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. The air hummed with something electric, raising goosebumps along your arms. You looked ahead to where Sylus was walking, still holding you swiftly like you weighed nothing. It was a glorious mansion adorned with intricate details, sculptures, gardens punctuated with red roses.

Sylus followed your gaze. "Ah. You've noticed our destination." His hand slid from your mouth and he stopped just for a moment to let you down. "Walk with me. Questions can wait until I’ve safely escorted you inside."

Every survival instinct screamed to wrench away, but the rational part of your brain knew escape would be futile. This was Sylus, after all. Dream or not. 

You found yourself matching his strides as he led you toward the glowing mansion, your bare feet sinking into unnaturally warm moss with each step.

The night was still young. Your slip dress that had once been perfectly comfortable in your bedroom, now felt flimsy as a tissue paper.

"You're shaking," Sylus observed without breaking stride. His thumb stroked your pulse point, where your heartbeat fluttered like a caged bird. "Don't tell me you only like me from behind a screen."

“I do like you. But you’re not even real.” You managed to speak without stuttering, although you knew he sensed the nervousness in your voice anyway.

“Or am I, sweetie?”

"I like fictional characters who stay fictional," you snapped, then immediately regretted it when his fingers tightened fractionally.

Sylus laughed, a rich, unsettling sound that didn't quite reach those blood-bright eyes. "Oh, darling. If only you knew how fictional your world seems from here."

The mansion loomed closer, its glowing arches humming. Something in that sound made your teeth ache. Sylus' grip shifted to your elbow as you approached the massive doors, his breath warm against your ear. "Deep breaths now. I wouldn’t want my guest to panic. What kind of host would that make me?"

You locked eyes with him. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite discern. This dreaming was driving you crazy. 

As the doors swung open silently, revealing a cavernous hall pulsing with strange light, you realized with dawning horror that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't just some bizarre dream. The game had never shown this place. Never warned about any of this.

And the man beside you, the one whose smirk had once made your stomach flutter, now felt about as safe as a live wire in a thunderstorm.

Your breath caught as you took in the grand hall, its vaulted ceilings stretching endlessly. The air hummed with a faint warmth, carrying the scent of aged parchment and something richer, like smoldering embers and black tea. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, their swirling patterns shifting subtly under the glow of floating orbs of light that drifted lazily through the space.

This place shouldn't have existed.

You'd spent hours in Love & Deepspace, memorizing every pixel of Sylus' world, or so you'd thought. But this? This had never been in the game.

As if reading your thoughts, Sylus chuckled low beside you. "The game only showed the places I wanted it to."

You tore your gaze from the opulent decor to glance at him, but he was already looking away, his expression unreadable. Still, you caught the faintest curve of his lips, smug, satisfied. Like he was enjoying your bewilderment.

Before you could retort, he stepped forward, extending a gloved hand toward you. "Come." It wasn't a request.

You hesitated, fingers twitching at your sides. Every rational instinct screamed that you shouldn't take it, that you should demand answers, find a way back, run. But curiosity was a traitorous thing.

You placed your hand in his.

His fingers closed around yours, warm and firm, and suddenly, you were moving.

He guided you through the mansion with quiet precision, his grip on your hand unyielding as you moved through rooms that felt too expansive, too real to belong to any game. The air smelled of polished wood and gun oil. The walls were lined with sleek display cases, holding meticulously maintained firearms. Some modern, some antique.

A long hallway opened into what looked like an armory, racks of rifles and handguns. You recognized some from the game. The sleek, futuristic designs that had always appeared when you fought alongside Sylus. But others were unfamiliar, their edges worn from use. You paused beside a case holding a silver revolver. “This wasn’t in the game,” you murmured.

Sylus hummed, stepping closer. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached past you to tap the glass. “No. Some things are just for me.” His voice was low, intimate.

The next chamber was a training area. mats covering the floor, a shooting range tucked behind soundproof glass. A half-dismantled rifle lay on a workbench, its parts spread out. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Yes, Sylus was your most favourite fictional man. He was just your type. You’d spent hours reading his fanfictions, replaying his memories. Watching his fanarts. But this? This was incomprehensible. You were torn between the thoughts whether this was dangerous or exciting, whether you were dead or dreaming?

You turned to him, your pulse quickening. “Is this real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or am I inside the game?”

Sylus studied you for a long moment, his crimson eyes unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached out and caught your wrist, guiding your hand to his chest. Beneath the fabric of his shirt, you felt the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

“Does it matter?” he murmured.

Your fingers curled slightly against him, warmth seeping through the material. It was too real, the heat of his skin, the faint scent of leather and something darker, like black coffee. The game never felt this real. It felt, well, just like a game.

He tilted his head, watching your reaction with that same infuriating smirk. “You wanted answers,” he said. “But you haven’t asked the right question yet.”

You swallowed. “Then what’s the right question?”

Sylus leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. “Not where you are,” he said. “But why you’re here.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

Before you could respond, he straightened and tugged you forward again. “Come. I want to show you something.”

And despite the unease coiling in your stomach, you followed.

The heavy oak door swung open under Sylus' touch, revealing a library so vast it made your breath hitch. Towering mahogany shelves stretched toward the ceiling, their upper levels vanishing into darkness. Rolling ladders stood along the walls. The scent of aged paper and polished wood wrapped around you, rich and comforting.

You took an involuntary step forward, your fingers already itching to touch the spines. "This is..." Words failed you as your gaze traveled up, up, up the endless shelves.

"Excessive?" Sylus offered, his voice laced with amusement. He leaned against the doorframe, watching your reaction with those piercing crimson eyes. "Or perhaps just adequate."

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Adequate for what? Collecting every book ever printed?"

His lips quirked in that infuriating half-smile. "For you."

"For... me?" Your hand froze halfway to pulling out a volume of what appeared to be 18th century botanical illustrations.

"You like books." He pushed off the doorframe and strode toward you, his boots silent on the thick rug. "I noticed. When you wouldn’t log in to finish a book you’d just bought. When you'd pause the game just to squint at some background text."

Heat crept up your neck. You hadn't realized he'd been paying that much attention. How could you? Until now you didn’t know he was real. Although you still weren’t entirely sure. "So you... what? Built me a library?"

"Some of these don't exist in your world. First editions of books that were never published. Manuscripts that were lost to war or censorship." His gloved fingers brushed a bookspine. "Thought you might appreciate holding what others never got to read."

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. This wasn't just some game logic, this was thoughtful in a way that unsettled you. "But why go to all this trouble?"

Sylus tilted his head, considering you. "Why does a hunter maintain his weapons? Why does a scholar preserve his texts?" He reached past you to pull out a slender volume bound in deep blue leather. "We care for the things that matter."

That matter? Did you matter to him? So much to have him build you an entire library.

The book pressed into your hands felt strangely warm. You opened it carefully to find handwritten pages in a language you didn't recognize.

When you looked up, Sylus was watching you with an expression you couldn't decipher. "This is impossible," you whispered.

"Yet here you are."

Sylus watched you trail your fingers along the book spines, his gaze darkening as you bit your lip in concentration. When you pulled out a volume, his shadow fell over you, close enough that his breath stirred your hair.

“Find something interesting?” he murmured.

You turned too fast and suddenly you were chest-to-chest with him. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips.

“I-uh.” Your voice cracked. His smirk deepened. Ugh! How is he sexier in person?

He reached past you to rplace back the book, his arm caging you in, the scent of leather, gunpowder and black coffee wrapping around you. “Take your time, sweetie. I’ll always be right here.”

You had no idea how much time you spent immersed in the books, how long Sylus kept looking at you. As you put back a leather-bound book onto the shelf, you heard a soft ruffle a fabric as he stepped closer. “Not interesting?”

“Overwhelming?”

“Do you want to see your room, sweetie?”

“My room?”

He lead you through many different halls and up a long flight of stairs. The door swung open under Sylus' touch, revealing a bedroom that stole the breath from your lungs. Soft blush-pink walls glowed in the golden light of crystal sconces. White curtains fluttering gently in the breeze from the open doors that led to a private balcony.

You took an involuntary step forward, your fingers brushing against the plush velvet pillows in shades of ballet slipper pink and creamy ivory. Each one was embroidered with tiny floral details. On the nightstand sat a collection of porcelain trinket boxes, one shaped like a kitten, another like a miniature treasure chest. Exactly like the ones you'd been eyeing online but could never bring yourself to buy.

"I..." Your voice caught as you noticed the vanity table, arranged with crystal perfume bottles and a jewelry box with a tiny ballerina dancing inside. The mirror was framed with tiny LED lights, just like the one in your wishlist. "How did you...?"

Sylus leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Even in setting, he looked effortlessly beautiful. The sharp features of his face contrasting with the softness surrounding him. "I know you have a particular fondness for pink," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Your cheeks warmed as you turned in a slow circle, taking in more details. A bookshelf held familiar titles, all your favorite novels in first edition hardcovers. The sitting area by the balcony had a plush reading chair with a crocheted blanket draped over one arm, the exact shade of cotton candy pink you'd once tweeted was your favorite.

On the dresser sat something that made your breath hitch. A limited edition snow globe from that anime you'd mentioned in passing months ago. Only 500 had been made worldwide. You reached out with trembling fingers to lift it, watching as glitter swirled around the tiny figures inside.

"You remembered this?" you whispered, unable to hide the wonder in your voice.

Sylus pushed off the doorframe and walked toward you, his boots silent on the plush cream carpet. "I remember everything," he murmured, so close now you could see the flecks of darker red in his irises. His gloved hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the leather cool against your flushed skin. 

"The way your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite things. The exact shade of pink that makes you smile."

Your heart hammered against your chest as his fingers trailed down to tilt your chin up. The air between you was fused with tension, his gaze dropping to your lips. His right hand slid slowly up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he leaned in. 

But your stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Sylus blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh, stepping back. "Dinner is at eight," he said, adjusting his gloves with that familiar precision. "The closet should have everything you need." He gestured to a door you hadn't noticed before. "Though I suspect you'll find the contents... predictable."

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood frozen for a moment, still clutching the snow globe. Then, with shaky legs, you moved to investigate the closet. When you opened the door, a soft gasp escaped you. Racks of halter tops, micro skirts, mini shorts, bell-bottom jeans. Dresses with delicate lace trim, cozy sweaters with pearl buttons, even pajamas with little cartoon characters, all in your exact size.

A sound from outside drew you to the balcony doors. You stepped into the cool evening air just as the first notes of a piano floated up from the garden below. Leaning over the railing, you could see Sylus seated at a grand piano beneath a tree, his silver hair glowing in the twilight as his hands moved effortlessly across the keys.

The song was unfamiliar but beautiful, a melancholy melody that seemed to echo the strange ache in your chest. You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching as petals drifted down around him, caught in the breeze.

This man had recreated your dream bedroom down to the smallest detail. He knew your tastes better than anyone in your real life. And yet, as you watched him play with such quiet intensity, you realized with a pang that you didn't know the first real thing about him.

You slipped into a chiffon dress from the closet, one that hugged your curves in all the right places and a neckline that dipped just low enough to feel daring. After smoothing your hands down the fabric, you took a deep breath and headed downstairs, following the scent of roasted herbs and something rich and buttery.

The dining room took your breath away. A long, polished table stretched beneath a glittering chandelier, set with fine china and crystal glasses that caught the candlelight. Platters of food covered every inch. Seared scallops drizzled in lemon butter, rosemary-crusted lamb, truffle-infused mashed potatoes, and a dozen other dishes you couldn’t name but made your mouth water.

Sylus stood at the head of the table, his back to you as he poured wine into two glasses. He’d changed into a tailored black suit, the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders before tapering at his waist. When he turned, his crimson eyes flickered over you, lingering for a heartbeat too long on the dip of your neckline before meeting your gaze.

"You look exquisite," he said, his voice low.

Your pulse fluttered. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."

His lips curved. "I wanted to."

He pulled out your chair, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as you sat, sending a shiver down your spine. The meal began in quiet elegance, the clink of silverware the only sound between you, at first.

But then you stole a glance.

His hands were unfairly elegant. Long fingers, swift movements as he speared a piece of lamb with his fork, the way his thumb pressed against the edge of the fork before bringing it to his lips. You watched, as he chewed slowly, the muscles in his jaw flexing before his throat worked with a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

God! Why does he have to be so sexy?

At that point, you were torn between two dilemmas, as if two angels were fighting over what was right or wrong. He was hot and now you were imagining not so decent things. Why? Well, of course because he was Sylus. You loved him. But you hardly knew him. Technically, you knew him. But who knew if he was the same person? Did his looks make you forget one crucial thing? What the hell were you doing here!? What kind of dream was this? Maybe he knew… 

You always knew he was dangerously attractive, but now you’d been too mesmerised with the newfound surroundings to notice. But now that you did…

Heat pooled in your stomach.

You looked away, taking a sip of wine to distract yourself, but it didn’t help. Every time he lifted his glass, you caught the way his fingers curled around the stem, the way his lips parted just slightly before the red liquid touched them.

A traitorous wetness settled between your thighs. Without thinking, you clenched them together, biting your lip. Sylus’ fork stilled.

"Careful now, kitten," he murmured, his voice a dark caress.

Your breath hitched.

He set his utensils down with deliberate slowness, his gaze locking onto yours. The candlelight flickered in his crimson eyes, turning them molten. "You keep looking at me like that," he said, "and I’ll start thinking you want something."

enjoy this cute gif. think of it as the room sylus prepared for you.

lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist for the next part!!

[kannady]

ummmmmmm

ummmmmmmmmmm

ill leave it to your imagination

sylus holding out his hand for you to spit his cum onto. he can tell you don't like swallowing but yet you still do it, grimacing every time it slides down your throat.

"spit." crimson eyes are trained on you, the pupils blown out from the desire that consumes him. "don't swallow."

his palm is open, waiting. you do as he asks, your eyebrows pinching together with your unasked question as you spit out his cum. the heavy taste still lingers in your mouth but it's more tolerable now. his release mixed with your drool coats his fingers.

"good girl." he praises, the low timbre and purr of his voice making your thighs clench and a wave of heat work through you.

[kannady]

If you’re still looking for Sylus smut prompts I’ll throw 2 of my favorite tropes out there: ‘But there was only one bed’ and the whole ‘having to pretend were a couple but we don’t actually want to pretend.’ I’ll throw ‘sex pollen’ and ‘strip poker/kitty cards’ in as bonus options. By no means feel free to use any of these, just happy to offer any help to the brainstorming process :)

whiskey and sin

pairing: sylus x fem!reader

summary: you've started to fall for the Leader of Onychinus. but what happens when you remember your tragic past? will the yearning still linger or fade away?

a/n: had the worst possible day ever and there are worse days to come in the next week. so i decided to write as it made me feel so much better. also i found this chinese song that gave me this idea which i decided to merge with the second idea from the req. altho im now noticing i did get a lil sidetracked so it might not be exact. hope you enjoy it, lemme know your thoughts!

genre: nsfw content, smut, sylus smut, public sex, p in v, backshotsy(?) 18+ MDNI.

It started ever since you managed to procure the brooch from Sylus. At first, you started brushing it off as deja vu. What else could it mean? Every time you saw him, talked to him, every accidental touch. You felt like you knew him, yet you’d never seen him before.

Why did everything feel so familiar with him? 

Was it the way he talked? That erotic, deep, velvety voice of his. Like aged whiskey. It screamed confidence and dominance. The voice that never had to be raised because the whole world already kneeled the moment he spoke.

Was it the way he looked at you? Those dark, heavy-lidded eyes that drank in your every detail. The gaze that stripped you off of every piece of clothing and devoured you whole. The brow that raised every time you lied.

Or was it the way he touched you? Fingers lingering just a second too long, enough for you to feel the heat of his skin. His chest grazed your back as he reached for something behind you. That traitorous hitch in your breath. 

It was getting unbearable with every passing moment. Yes, he was, indeed, a very good-looking man. Sexy, handsome. Beautiful.  Obviously, you were attracted to him. You’d never denied that. And now, perhaps, that was getting to you. 

Getting your hands on the brooch wasn’t easy. You needed to attend the auction and Sylus was your only safe way of getting there. As much as you wanted to avoid him, you couldn’t. Sharing the same space with him made it impossible to deny your feelings for him. You were absolutely not falling for him. But you wanted him. In ways you couldn't explain or comprehend for that matter. Was he perhaps drugging you?

There were still a few days left for the auction. Sylus was nowhere to be found. The twins, too, left you in the company of solitude. There’s only so much one can do alone in a huge mansion. As boredom kicked in, you crept out of your room, wary of Mephisto. You didn’t want him spying on you. Walking down the corridor, you came across a hall. No doors, just paintings adorned on the walls. 

Taking slow and measured steps, you carefully observed each painting. Some of them were landscapes, others abstract paintings that you never really understood. Studying each piece, a particular painting caught your eye. It captured a vast and endless field cradled with rolling hills. Flowers as crimson as fresh blood were blooming in abundance. Captivated by its allure, you couldn’t help but stare in awe for who knew how long.

Your lips moved before you brain caught on, “Tarus City.”

The place looked familiar as if it were etched in the depths of your memories. You’d never been there before, you didn’t know anybody who had, so what was it? The unease lingered on till you went to bed. You didn’t know if Sylus was back yet, but you didn’t want to go find out. What if he saw you? The newfound emotions were already plaguing your thoughts and mind, and now this. It was almost impossible to lie to Sylus. 

So you lay in bed immersed in thoughts, waiting for sleep to come pouring in and save you from this agony. Lately it felt as if sleeping was the only peace of mind you were spared with. 

After what felt like an eternity, the D-day dawned. To your surprise, Sylus had already prepared the perfect attire for you. A maroon dress that dripped like crushed rubies against your skin with a plunging neckline and delicate strap sleeves. The high slit teased glimpses of your toned thigh with every step. Paired with elegant black stiletto heels that clicked like a loaded gun on marble floors.

Maroon. It was his colour. Wearing that dress made you strangely ecstatic. It felt like he was making his claim on you. With what you’d been feeling the last couple days, this was nothing short of torture. You didn’t know how he felt. Hell, did he even feel anything at all? But these little gestures just confused you.

The evening was, so far, uneventful. You’d brought protocores for ridiculously high prices. Mostly because Sylus didn’t want to seem “broke” and also because you wanted to get a reaction out of him, but that turned out to be quite futile. Turned out, using his money only fueled his ego. 

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Sylus invited you to the dance floor, to which you couldn’t say no. Neither did you want to nor you could because you needed to know where the aether core was. 

Sylus extended his hand, which you gladly took. The moment he held your hand in his, he raised it up to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on your fingers. His lips lingered on your fingers for just a moment longer, but he never broke eye contact. Had his eyes left yours at all that evening? 

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Why’d he have to be fucking handsome? He was making it very difficult for you to focus on anything, but him. Lately, he had infiltrated your mind like an infectious virus. You smelled him everywhere around the house. Warm Leather and amber. When he was around, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. When he wasn’t, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. What was wrong with you?

As he twirled you in his arms, you felt heat prickling your body. Black scales and horn, red markings all over his chest, his heart… It was Sylus. But why was he dying? You held him in your arms, tightly embracing him as he breathed his last.

In a fleeting moment, that flashback ended. You felt Sylus’s warm hand on the small of your back, while the other one held yours and guided you along the floor.

“You’re thinking too loud, sweetie.”

You looked up at him. The crimson eyes, smug expression, chiseled features. You’re sure it was him. Was this why all the occurrences started the moment you met him? You’d known him in your past life. You’d killed him, hadn’t you?

“Are you okay, (reader)?”

“Stayrus.”

That seemed to have had quite the effect on him. Hands still lingering on your body, he stopped. His expression changed and for the first time, it was readable. His brows were slightly creased and raised. His eyes appeared crestfallen. They were glassy. He opened his lips to speak, but stopped. His voice betrayed him.

What did ‘Stayrus’ mean and why did it have that effect on him?

By now, you two were the only ones not swaying to the music playing, everything forgotten, just staring into the depths of each other's eyes. Slowly retreating from his embrace, you took a few steps back and quietly retired from the dance floor.

You never believed in past lives and all the fate and destiny crap, but this was different. You were falling for someone you hardly knew, but felt like you’d known him forever. As you took quick steps out of the facility, cold air brushed past your face. Warm tears were prickling down your cheeks. 

You couldn’t explain it any more than the fact that you were devastated. You’d killed Sylus in your previous life, but why did it matter now? He was right there in front of you. But maybe you never changed. Maybe you’d kill him again if he didn’t step back. 

The cold night air bit at your skin as you stumbled forward, heels clicking unevenly against the pavement. You needed distance. Needed to breathe. But before you could take another step, a firm hand closed around your wrist.

You were yanked backward, your back colliding with a solid chest. The scent of warm leather and amber flooded your senses, and your stomach twisted. Sylus.

"Running away, kitten?" His voice was low, but the usual smugness was gone. Stripped raw.

You wrenched yourself free, whirling to face him. His crimson eyes were darker now, brows drawn together, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. The sight of him so visibly unsettled only made the ache in your chest worse.

"Stay away from me," you choked out, voice cracking.

His expression flickered. "Talk to me."

"No." You took a step back, hands shaking. "You don’t get to– to look at me like that. Not after what I–" A sob ripped through you, hot tears spilling over. "I killed you." The words were a whisper, a confession.

Sylus went utterly still.

The silence between you was suffocating. You could see it now. The way his throat worked, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach for you. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "You remember."

It wasn’t a question.

You shook your head, nails digging into your palms. "Flashes. Just enough to know I held you while you died. Enough to know it was my fault." Your breath hitched. "And now you’re here, and I—" You pressed your palms  into your eyes, as if you could push the images away. "I don’t understand. Why aren’t you angry? Why do you keep touching me, looking at me like–"

"Like what?" He took a step closer, and you stumbled back.

"Like you want me!" The admission tore free, ragged and desperate. "After everything, how can you even stand to be near me?"

Sylus exhaled sharply, something unreadable flashing across his face. Then, slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between you. His hands came up, cradling your face, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn’t realized were still falling.

"Because I do want you," he murmured, voice like gravel. "Then. Now. In every damn lifetime."

You froze.

His next words were quieter, almost vulnerable. "You think I don’t remember too?"

Your heart stopped.

His words seared into you, branding your soul. Then. Now. In every damn lifetime.

You didn’t have time to process them, you couldn’t, not when his hands were on your face, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes holding yours with a possessiveness that made your knees weak.

"Prove it," you whispered, the challenge trembling between you.

Sylus’s mouth crashed into yours before the last syllable faded.

It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that was lined with desperation, his tongue sliding against the seam of your mouth until you gasped, and then he was deeper, tasting you like a man starved. One hand fisted in your hair, angling your head back, while the other gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel every hard plane of his body, the way his heartbeat thundered against your chest.

You moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in the silk of his hair, nails scraping his scalp. He growled. A low, primal sound that vibrated through you and suddenly you were being walked backward until your spine hit the cold stone wall of the facility.

Sylus didn’t break the kiss.

He devoured you.

His teeth nipped at your lower lip, his tongue licking into your mouth in slow, filthy strokes that had your thighs clenching. The hand in your hair tightened, just shy of pain, while the other slid down to grip your thigh, hiking your leg around his hip. The maroon dress rode up, the slit exposing your skin to the cold air, but all you could focus on was the heat of him. The way his fingers dug into your flesh like he wanted bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

"Mine," he rasped against your lips, voice wrecked.

You whimpered, arching into him, your nails dragging down the back of his neck. "Yours."

The admission shattered whatever restraint he had left. His mouth slanted over yours again, harder, deeper, his hips grinding against you in a way that made your breath hitch. You could feel him, all of him, hard and throbbing through the layers of fabric. The friction was maddening, not enough, and you rocked against him with a broken sound.

Sylus tore his mouth from yours, his breath ragged. "Look at me."

You forced your eyes open, your vision hazy with desire.

His pupils were blown, his lips swollen from your kisses, his chest rising and falling as unevenly as yours. For the first time, the mask of control was gone, replaced by something raw, needy.

"Say it again," he demanded, thumb brushing your kiss-slick bottom lip.

You didn’t hesitate. "Yours."

His groan was your reward before his lips found yours once more, sealing the desire between. Desire that tasted like whiskey, like sin.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin just below your ear. You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as his mouth found the column of your throat.

"Sylus–"

His response was a low hum against your pulse, the vibration making your knees weak. Then his tongue flicked over the spot. Once, twice, before his teeth sank in.

You cried out, arching against him, the sharp sting melting into your skin as he sucked, hard enough to mark you. His hand slid from your thigh to grip your hip, holding you in place as he worked another mark just above your collarbone.

"Mine," he murmured against your skin.

A shudder ran through you, but the distant murmur of voices from the auction hall had your breath hitching. "W-what if someone sees us?" you whispered, even as your body betrayed you, pressing closer.

Sylus chuckled, the sound rough with desire. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb brushing over the fresh bruise he’d left. "Let them."

Then his mouth was on you again, licking into the hollow of your throat as his free hand slipped beneath the slit of your dress, fingers skating up your bare thigh. Your moan was loud, too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when his touch burned through you like this, not when every drag of his lips made your thoughts scatter.

"You taste so fucking good," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "And you’re all mine tonight."

You whimpered, nails biting into his shoulders as his fingers teased higher, his breath hot against your ear. 

"Now tell me, do you want someone to see us?"

The question was a trap, but you were too far gone to resist.

"No," you breathed.

His teeth grazed your neck in warning.

"Liar."

The word was a growl against your skin, rough with possession, as Sylus's fingers found the zipper of your dress. The sound of it sliding down was obscenely loud in the quiet of the night, the fabric parting like a sigh beneath his touch. Cool air brushed over your exposed back, but his hands were fire, skimming up your spine before pushing the straps off your shoulders.

The dress pooled at your waist.

His breath hitched. "Fuck."

The hunger in his voice sent a shudder through you, your nipples hardening under his gaze. He didn't touch you, not yet. Just stared, his crimson eyes darkening as he took in the way your chest rose with each ragged breath.

Then his hands were on you, rough and demanding, cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, maddening circles. You whimpered, arching into his touch, but he tsked,

pinching lightly.

"Patience, kitten."

You didn't have any left.

His mouth was on you before you could protest, lips closing around one peaked nipple, tongue swirling in a way that had your knees buckling. You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked, hard, the sharp pleasure-pain making your hips jerk. His free hand palmed your other breast, squeezing just shy of too much, and you melted, a moan spilling from your lips.

"Sylus-!"

He switched sides, lavishing the same attention on your other breast, his teeth scraping over the sensitive nipple before soothing it with his tongue. You were panting now, your skin flushed, your core aching with every flick of his tongue.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Your hands slid down his chest, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He groaned against your skin, hips jerking forward as you palmed him through his jeans. God, he was huge, already hard and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hissed, pulling back just enough to watch you. "Look at you, greedy little thing."

You didn't care. You were greedy. For him. For this.

You popped the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down with trembling fingers. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, and you moaned at the feel of him, the way his pulse jumped under your touch.

Sylus's breath came out in a sharp exhale, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Stroke me.”

You obeyed, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, thumb swiping over the bead of precum at his tip. His groan was filthy, his hips thrusting into your grip as you worked him, slow and teasing.

"Fuck– Faster."

You sped up, squeezing just the way you knew he liked, (how did you know that?), and his head fell back, a string of curses falling from his lips.

But then his hand closed over yours, stilling your movements.

"Enough."

Before you could protest, he spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold stone wall. His body covered yours, his cock nestled against the curve of your ass as his hands slid down your sides, pushing your dress up around your waist.

"You're dripping," he murmured, dragging a finger through your folds. You gasped at the contact, your hips rocking back against him.

"Please–"

"Please what?" His breath was hot against your ear as he teased your entrance, circling but not pushing in.

You whined, desperate. "Fuck me."

He chuckled, low and dark. "Since you asked so nicely." And then he was inside you, filling you in one brutal thrust. You screamed.

He was everywhere, stretching you, ruining you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision white out. You clawed at the wall, but his hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, forcing you to take every inch.

"So fucking tight," he growled, his hips snapping forward. "So perfect for me.”

You couldn't speak, couldn't think, not with the way he was pounding into you, each thrust dragging against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars. His free hand slipped around your hip, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you shaking.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough. "Now."

You shattered.

Your orgasm ripped through you like a wildfire, your body clamping down around him as you screamed his name. He fucked you through it, his pace never faltering, his own release building with every snap of his hips.

"Mine," he snarled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he came, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you up.

You collapsed against the wall, boneless, his body heavy against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath.

His lips brushed your ear.

"And don't you ever forget it, kitten."

tags: @plzdonutpercieveme

[kannady]

GIRLIES!!!

i need smut prompts for sylus ASAP. i need to write abosulte filth about this man. give me something, ANYTHING!

[kannady]

do you remember me too?

pairing: sylus x mc reader

synopsis: love and deepspace was a newfound obsession of yours. you installed the game shortly after sylus was released as a love interest. it'd be safe to say he was the reason you installed the app. however, finals week was approaching and you had to say goodbye to your favourite game. not for long, ofcourse. but you decide to login for the last time to check the new event.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: hey everyone! im going to get busy in a couple days so updates might be slow, but ill try my best. not much, its a pretty simple chapter. lemme know what you think!

check out all chapters here

Chapter Seven

"Of course, but I need to make sure he senses the urgency of my situation."

Nodding to herself, your sister started clearing the mess, picking up the scattered markers and loose pages, while you sat down and waited. You weren’t expecting him to come running that very instant. It was late, after all. But you were getting anxious now. Had you been too harsh? Too rude to someone you technically didn’t know?

You were still unsure about your next move or anything that you had done up until now. Sure, you’d get to meet five of your most favorite men, but you couldn’t shrug off the feeling that things were only going to get worse for you now. You tried to stay optimistic, but it was almost impossible considering there was an enemy lurking nearby.

Sighing to yourself, you got up, bid your sister goodbye, and went up to bed. Lying down, you couldn’t help but mentally go through everything that had happened that day. You could confidently say it was the most festive and hectic, yet the best day of your life.

You were in the Love & Deepspace universe! You got to meet Zayne, Caleb was your best friend, Xavier was your neighbor, and Sylus was presumably keeping an eye on you. You were yet to meet Rafayel, but you were just as excited for him.

Contrary to what you’d assumed, you fell asleep just as you went to bed. Now that the initial excitement had worn off, you were suddenly exhausted. You didn’t know exactly when you fell asleep, but you woke up more refreshed than ever. It felt like one of those days where you didn’t have anything to do. No classes, no exams, no chores. Just a day to do anything you liked.

After washing up, you decided to change since you’d fallen asleep in the same clothes. The closet was pretty basic, nothing too unique. After all, you weren’t a Hunter yet.

Your eye caught a black hoodie folded neatly in one corner. It had a distinct smell to it. Lavender, jasmine, and a hint of vanilla. It was perfect.

"She actually has great taste in colognes."

You paired the hoodie with baggy jeans and headed downstairs for breakfast.

Seeing everyone seated at the table, it looked just like any other day. Your father was reading the paper, your sister was scrolling on her phone, and your mother was flipping pancakes. Perhaps she heard your steps. Without turning toward you, she asked, "Two for you, as usual?"

"Yep!"

You slipped into the chair next to your sister’s. She looked at you with a smile, but it died down as soon as she saw the hoodie. Instead, it was replaced with a mischievous smirk.

"Someone’s missing Caleb today." You turned toward your father, who was eyeing you from above his glasses. Smiling, he turned his attention back to the paper. You cluelessly glanced at your sister, who whispered, "That’s Caleb’s hoodie."

"Oh."

After breakfast, you helped your mom carry the dishes to the kitchen. "So, how’s the exam prep going?"

What exam? You had no idea, and it wouldn’t be wise to ask.

"It’s great. I’m probably gonna revise most of the day." After sorting out the dishes, you hastily went up to your sister.

"What exam was I preparing for again?"

"The Hunter’s Association licensure exam."

"And when is it?"

"May 14th."

Today was April 13th. You had one month. One month to prepare for something you had no idea about. What even was in that exam? Thinking about it was making you more anxious. How exactly were you going to do this?

Thankfully, your study desk had the answer. Placed neatly on shelves were books about Wanderers and Protocores, past exam questions, model papers, and then heaps and heaps of notes. The more you looked at it, the more frustrated you got, and the more you wanted to cry. It was hopeless. Maybe you could give the exam next year?

Sighing, you grabbed a random book and started going through its pages until a certain illustration caught your eye. It was a Wanderer with blue wings, a purplish tail, and a sleek black body. It almost looked like a dragon. Tracing your finger over the text, you read, "Polar Wyrm."

On the next page was the illustration of a similar Wanderer, only red and orange. "Ignis Wyrm."

Intrigued, you started going through the pages. Each Wanderer looked familiar. "Oh my god, I remember fighting these!" You excitedly squealed as you grabbed another book. "Protocores are unique substances dropped by Wanderers after they are defeated. They can be—I know what a Protocore is!"

You were on cloud nine. How could you forget? You had played the game. You knew what Wanderers were, how to defeat them, and the ideal weapons for each. Taking a deep breath, you carried all the material to the bed and went through every single page. Most of the stuff you already knew. And the rest? You could do the rest in one month.

And so days went by while you were merged in books. Life had gotten too boring. It felt normal now. The only abnormal thing was perhaps learning about Wanderers. Due to your hectic schedule, you’d almost forgotten about Sylus. He hadn’t replied back. You didn’t come across the twins again, nor did you see Mephisto following you around. You weren’t even sure if he’d gotten your message. Although the exam kept you busy most of the time, you still felt uneasy in this new environment. You were tempted to go into the N109 Zone yourself, but you weren’t that stupid. You’d get killed in an instant considering how you hadn’t had any physical training yet.

A month had gone by. You’d given the exam. It was easy. Of course, you studied for it, but you’d had a different way of knowing everything. Even so, it all worked out. A week later, the results were announced, and you passed. Your parents threw a small celebratory party in your honor. As guests arrived, you lingered by the door, thanking each one.

But your real reason for standing there was waiting. Waiting for Sylus, Mephisto, even a black feather would have been enough at that point. You just couldn’t understand. Why follow you around if he wasn’t going to respond? Actually, why follow you in the first place?

"He’s not going to come, honey. And you know that."

You turned to see your mother standing beside you, looking out into the darkness. Then, she turned to look at you, and you could see the worry etched on her face.

"Who?"

"Caleb. You know the academy keeps him busy."

You almost spit out the tea you were sipping. Why would she think you were waiting for Caleb? Was it because of the hoodie? You had worn it again. It was soft and smelled incredible. You had to give him that. But that was it.

"I wasn’t waiting for him. At all." You tried to sound as convincing as you could. Even though you weren’t lying, you had a feeling she wouldn’t believe that. And you were right.

"Ah, young love! Just you see. You’d be the first one he visits as soon as he gets back from Skyhaven." Smiling to herself, she made her way back to the guests while you stood there, processing what had happened.

Once all the expected guests had arrived and it was clear he wasn’t coming, you closed the door and retreated to the living room. The party was typical. Relatives quizzing you about the exam, comparing scores, then veering into politics. The moment the conversation shifted away from your academics, you seized the chance to escape. Too boring. Or maybe you were just too young for it.

Ting! Ting!

Your phone vibrated. It was a low battery notification. So, you headed upstairs to plug in the phone and touch up your makeup. As soon as you entered your room, you were met with a cool, light breeze on your face. The window was open, and the curtains were rustling. You could swear you’d closed it.

Shrugging, you plugged in your phone and sat at the vanity. As you were reapplying your lip gloss, your gaze fell upon a box on your bed. Confused, you turned around and spotted a black gift box tied with a red ribbon. There was no question about who sent it. You knew. But why did he send you a gift? Was it a congratulatory gift?

Slowly, you crept toward the bed and picked up the box. It was heavier than you’d imagined. You couldn’t even attempt to guess what it was. It was too heavy and big to be his credit card, not big enough to be a bouquet, and definitely not some letter.

Slowly, you untied the ribbon. Taking one last deep breath, you took the lid off. Inside the box, nestled in black velvet, lay a pistol. Pristine, almost glowing under the dim light. Its steel was mirror-bright, untouched by fingerprints. The grip felt strangely warm against your skin, like it had been held moments before. There were no scratches on it, whatsoever.

Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist!

tags: @zenbutnotreally, @godoffuckedupcats, @noxus123, @madam8, @agustdxjiminx, @liz9898, @lemonn015, @tearydamsel, @diegojeanne, @alyssac9, @dummiebunny, @acesgarden, @bigclownshoes, @sylusgirlie7, @roseyjean, @poptrim, @pillarofsnow, @rxelarailuj, @brekkers-whore, @one17, @cchiiwinkle, @babyx91, @mourning-into-dancing, @yuhuahuaaa, @stxrrielle, @tapiokay, @glassandhoney, @animelover18, @paper--angel, @plzdonutpercieveme, @coffeedragonhobbyist, @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme, @harbingers-lullaby, @sleepykittyenergy, @syluslovesicker, @solmanel1

[kannady]

do you remember me too?

pairing: sylus x mc reader

synopsis: love and deepspace was a newfound obsession of yours. you installed the game shortly after sylus was released as a love interest. it'd be safe to say he was the reason you installed the app. however, finals week was approaching and you had to say goodbye to your favourite game. not for long, ofcourse. but you decide to login for the last time to check the new event.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: hey everyone! i actually rewrote and reuploaded this chapter. tbh i wanted to write more now that i have time on my hands. i felt like i may be taking things a little slow, so i tried to fix that. overall, im more satisfied with this version. lemme know your thoughts!

check out all chapters here

Chapter Six

“I can’t believe we actually made it back!” Your sister panted, flinging open the refrigerator and gulping down water while you leaned against the door, lost in thought. Thinking about who was following you, thinking about what to do next.

Your parents weren’t around, so you could talk freely without worrying them. Numbly, you trudged to the living room, collapsed onto the couch, and drew slow, steady breaths. You could still feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins and your head started to hurt. 

After fifteen minutes of silence, your sister sat beside you and handed you a chilled water bottle. You took a sip as she finally unleashed the questions she’d been holding back. “Do you know who was following us? How are you sure they were the bad guys? Why were they following us? Do they know where we live? What if they followed us up till here?” 

The last question freaked her out. Peering the curtains, she started scanning the area for “unusual movement”. Maybe you had acted rashly. After all, how could you be so sure they were the bad guys?

“I honestly have no idea. About anything at all.”

She just stared at you, while you continued. “I’m gonna be honest with you because I think keeping you in the dark would be even more dangerous. I don’t think I’m safe here, okay? And as long as I’m around, you guys aren’t safe either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, you said a large amount of energy would be needed to get me here. So, obviously someone intentionally did this. And I think I know who they are. They’re dangerous people, (reader’s sister).”

You could see her expressions change from fear, to confusion, to nothing. Maybe she was understanding the gravity of the situation or maybe she was just too good at hiding her emotions. “So, you think they were following us? Because their experiment was successful?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think it was them. Did you even hear them following us? Why would they let us go this easily?”

Frowning, your sister sank back into the couch, lost in thought. “Well, it is possible they were just two random dudes…” She trailed off, abruptly stood up and started pacing around the room. “Then, it’s official. We solve this problem.” She walked out of sight and ran up the stairs.

“Um… okay.”

A minute later, a cacophony of thuds and clatters echoed as she hauled something downstairs. When you got up to look, she was wrestling with a white board, notebook and several markers. 

“Alright. What the hell?”

“That’s how they do it in movies.”

She dropped the supplies, thrust the notebook into your hands, and began scribbling on the board.

“Let’s start from the beginning. You were on your way to…?” She looked up at you questioningly. “To the park.” Nodding, she jotted it down, muttering to herself. “And the you from here was on her way to the doctor.”

“What’s the point of all this?”

“Um, it’s a problem solving technique. You gather all the information you have, analyse it, find the root cause, eliminate it and find possible solutions. Simple.”

“Maybe you should’ve started with that.”

You sat down with her on the floor and narrated everything that had happened, while she described your predecessor’s day. After about an hour, the notebook was filled and the white board overflowed with little diagrams, bullet points and highlighted keywords. 

“Okay, I’ll repeat everything. Correct me if I’m wrong.” You nodded and she continued. “So you left for the park, sat under a tree to play that game, but your phone wasn’t working–” 

“No, it is working. See.” You unlocked your phone and swiped left and right. “Just the app wasn’t working.”

“She corrected the point on the board and continued. “Okay, okay. The app wasn’t working, then you came home and you were here. So, we can assume the soul-switching took place sometime after you left and before you came home. Did I get everything right?”

Your sister had asked you to tell her everything, no matter how trivial it seemed. And just then you remembered something. “Wait! I remember the park was empty this morning. But after I sat down, I saw this woman looking for her cat. So like, there were people then, but not when I got there.”

Your sister’s eyes bulged out and she lifted her lips into the biggest smile you’d ever seen. “So that’s where it happened. Sometime after you sat down and before you saw the woman. That’s probably when your soul was switched!” She practically started prancing around the room. The sight of it made you laugh heartily. 

After your little celebration, she switched back to the work mode. “Now, we have a very important piece of information. Anyway, after that you got home, did the whole drama. Then you went to the doctor. And everything went smoothly there, you say?”

“Yep, the smoothest it could go. Although, Zayne did say the results showed drastic changes. But we know why.” She tapped the marker against her lips, nodding grimly. “Then you got back home. We talked, went to the restaurant and were being followed by these weird dudes.”

“Weird, how? Because they followed us?”

“No, because their shadows were weird. Like there was something on their heads.”

That new revelation put you into deeper thought. Two guys with weirdly shaped shadows? It didn’t click anything, so you just shrugged it off. 

“We have all the information. We analysed it. We also know the root cause. The question is how do we eliminate it?”

“We can’t. At least, not yet. But the bigger question is do they really know their experiment was successful?”

“And why did they bring you here?”

That was something you hadn’t given your entire attention too. Was it because of the aether core? Your predecessor had it too so why bring you here? Was something wrong with her? But the MC had the ability to reincarnate, right? Nothing matched up. Nothing made sense. You weren’t even sure if EVER had brought you here. Maybe it was someone else or maybe it was accidental. But wait, did she have the aether core in her heart? After all, it was discovered as a result of illegal experiments.

“Hey, um… Was there something wrong with your sister?”

She raised her eyebrow and looked up at you. “Clarify.”

“Like, I don’t know. Did she spend most of her childhood in a hospital, you know? Surgeries and all that. Did she have any diseases or was she physically weak?”

She passed a very confused and worried look your way, but replied nonetheless. “We have a family album here somewhere. You can see, she was perfectly fine. And no, she was training to be a Hunter, remember? She wasn’t weak or sick.”

“Ugh!” You sighed and ruffled your hair. “Nothing makes any sense. I do have a few theories, but they don’t line up, considering the fact that your sister was perfectly normal.”

It had been a while since you played the game and now you were surely starting to forget things. You could only remember fragments of the main story. Maybe you hadn’t paid much attention to it? How could you confirm whether the old you had an aether core in her heart or not? After careful consideration, it clicked.

“Zayne!” He knew about the aether core in MC’s heart, but this one knows too.

“What about Zayne?” 

“In the game, the MC had something.” You tried your best to dumb it down for someone who had no idea about things from the get-go and whom you didn’t want to know more than they should. “It was powerful and it made her the target of illegal experiments and stuff.” 

You could see the horror plastered all over your sister’s face. “But Zayne knew about it. And I want to confirm if this one knows too. I don’t know if he’ll just straight up tell me. But it’s worth a shot, you know?”

She pursed her lips and a minute later she spoke up. “So, how will you approach the topic? Hey Zayne. Do I have something powerful and dangerous?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet.” It was true, you didn’t have a lot of knowledge about the aether core. There were memory cards you couldn’t get, so you were just left with your imagination. But like your sister had said, not everything was supposed to be like in the game.  After all, this was the real world. By now, you were aware of some very obvious differences. You weren’t an orphan, although you and Caleb were close, you didn’t grow up under the same roof. And what if…  What if you didn’t share a tragic past with any of the love interests? What if things really were normal here?

But your sister snapped you out of your thoughts. “No, wait. Don’t ask him anything. In fact, just forget anything happened.”

“Why would I-”

“Let’s say some dangerous organisation brought you here. If you go around asking people questions about yourself, it would surely grab their attention. Even if it’s Zayne.”

As much as you hated to admit it, she was right. That earlier encounter had freaked you out enough. You really weren’t looking for actual attention from the culprits. So, now you had to lie low. Pretend everything was alright, that you were really the old you. To convince them that the experiment failed. 

Your fingers twitched at the thought of pretending. Could you really play your old self after everything? Before further worry and anxiety engulfed you, you felt a soft hand on your shoulder. It truly warmed your heart that your sister was doing everything she could to help you out, make you feel welcomed, and to let you know she wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.

A noise from outside startled you and you both jolted your heads toward the source of the sound. Slowly creeping up to the window, your sister pulled the curtain to the side, looked out and rolled her eyes. “That creepy crow again.”

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise up.

Was it keeping an eye on you?

“What is Mephisto doing here?”

“Mephisto? That thing has a name?”

“Yeah. He’s Sy-Skye’s pet crow.”

“Who the hell is Skye?”

Now, that rang a bell. You remembered how the MC had that very alias for Sylus. But if Mephisto was here…

“Wait a minute. You said weird shadows. What exactly was on their head?” You turned to look at your sister expectantly. “Like they were wearing cat headbands...” You’d been so oblivious.

“Oh, my god! I’m so, so stupid.” You sighed falling to your knees. Mephisto was right there. You would’ve looked so stupid running for your life earlier. But why were they following you? 

“The dudes we saw earlier were Luke and Kieran! They work for Skye.”

“Okay, but who the hell is Skye? Is he the bad guy?”

You turned to look at her. “No, he’s the fifth love interest. My favourite one. Skye, nickname Sy.” She made a little ‘o’ with her lips as she started understanding everything you threw her way. You were still peering out the window, while Mephisto’s eyes were locked on you. Who knew how long he had been following you around?

“But why is he here? At this hour.”

You didn’t know. Your temple ached as the myriad of questions kept rising up with every passing moment. You did not have the answer to anything at all. But maybe now you knew how to get them.

“We should bring it inside.” Your suggestion was met with utter shock and straight refusal. “What? The crow? Hell, no.” 

“That’s how we can get answers by not getting unnecessary attention.”

She thought about it for a moment then spoke up. “But since we don’t know who brought you here, we can’t rule out the possibility it wasn’t Skye. Remember he’s technically killed two people.”

And way more than that. 

After the explosion, MC though Sylus was behind it, but turned out he wasn’t. Maybe you were going through the same thing. Being made to believe Sylus did something he actually didn’t. But this wasn’t a game! Why did you keep forgetting that? 

Did Sylus bring you here? That would explain Mephisto following you around. Maybe he was checking if the experiment worked. But why would he do that? All you had to do was figure one thing out.

“We need to figure out how much things are different from the game. Because Skye isn’t a bad guy.” Technically, you were right. Skye wasn’t the bad buy. 

“Okay… And how do we do that?”

“I don’t know.” Your gaze once again fell on the crow outside. What could be a harmless way of figuring out if things were exactly like the game? Your sister couldn’t help you on this, so you were really just on your own. Think, think, think!

“Is anyone in our neighborhood a Hunter?”

“Sure. I don’t know his name. But I’ve seen him come and go.”

This was your only hope. You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved, but things were far from done. “What does he look like?”

“Uh, tall, fair skin, silver hair. I’ve mostly seen him in white, yellow or purple clothes.”

At that point, you felt as if you could die from happiness. You wanted to jump around, scream, but for now you resorted to a little ‘yes!’.

“Okay, that’s good. But I don’t think that’ll be enough.” You needed more, but you felt like your mind was going blank. Why couldn’t you think of anything else? Maybe something minor could help you out. 

At the whim of giving up and as a last resort, you asked, “Is Caleb an orphan?”

“Yes, Aunt Josephine adopted him.”

Josephine. 

As the shock set in, you put your hand on your mouth and slowly sank into the couch. Holy shit!

“What? Is something wrong?” Your sister sat down beside you and slightly shook you when you didn’t reply. But truth was, you’d had enough. You needed answers and the crow outside was your only hope. Yes, you were scared, but not knowing the truth and living in oblivion was scarier. 

Maybe at one point, you wished to be able to live in this fantasy, but now that you were here you were terrified. You couldn’t go to bed knowing an opportunity was right there but you were too hesitant to take a risk. You couldn’t go back, you’d acknowledged that truth. But you weren’t gonna sit back and let those assholes ruin someone else’s life too and presumably get away with it.

 So what was it gonna be? Curiosity had finally killed the cat.

You abruptly got up, opened the door, slowly crept up towards the crow and held it tightly right before it could fly away from your clutches. After what felt like an eternity of struggling, you brought it inside. Held it up till your face, maintaining constant eye contact.

“Okay, listen up, you little piece of shit. Tell your daddy to get his ass here and stop stalking me like a little pussy. I’m scared as fuck and if I find out that he did this, you’ll be sorry. Get it?”

You shook the mechanical crow violently prompting it to let out a low, strained caw.

Opening the door, you loosened your hands and let it fly away. That’ll do it.

“Are you sure that’s the dude you like?”

Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist!

tags: @zenbutnotreally, @godoffuckedupcats, @noxus123, @madam8, @agustdxjiminx, @liz9898, @lemonn015, @tearydamsel, @diegojeanne, @alyssac9, @dummiebunny, @acesgarden, @bigclownshoes, @sylusgirlie7, @roseyjean, @poptrim, @pillarofsnow, @rxelarailuj, @brekkers-whore, @one17, @cchiiwinkle, @babyx91, @mourning-into-dancing, @yuhuahuaaa, @stxrrielle, @tapiokay, @glassandhoney, @animelover18, @paper--angel, @plzdonutpercieveme, @coffeedragonhobbyist, @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme, @harbingers-lullaby

[kannady]

do you remember me too?

pairing: sylus x mc reader

synopsis: love and deepspace was a newfound obsession of yours. you installed the game shortly after sylus was released as a love interest. it'd be safe to say he was the reason you installed the app. however, finals week was approaching and you had to say goodbye to your favourite game. not for long, ofcourse. but you decide to login for the last time to check the new event.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: hey everyone! im BACKKKK!!! exams are finally over. it seems sooo long since i updated this but therell be regular updates now dw. i hope you liked this chapter and didnt forget about this fic😭😭. share your thoughts, i LOVE reading what yall think about the story.

check out all chapters here

Chapter Five

What the fuck?

You looked around to try to see who left the feather there. Was it… him? You unconsciously got up from your seat and canned the area. Silver hair and tall as hell, he’d stick out like a sore thumb!

You could hear your sister calling out to you but there were more pressing matters at hand here. What if it really was him? What if you caught a glimpse of him? The thought of it alone made your heart race. Maybe you weren’t ready to witness everything in just one day. Besides, he wouldn’t stick around now, would he? And not every black feather meant Sylus.

Defeated, you walked back to your seat. “What happened there? Did you see something?”

“No, no. It’s just the feather.”

“Oh, you mean this.” She picked it up, inspecting it closely before bringing it to her nose. “Is this an actual crow feather?”

You shrugged. “Oh, Oh!” Her sudden squeal brought you out of your thoughts. “Does this feather mean something in the game? Holy shit!”

You couldn’t tell her about Sylus. Not yet at least. Neither could you tell her that he was your favourite love interest, the guy you installed the game for in the first place. Everything aside, he was the Leader of Onychinus and to an ordinary person, he was dangerous.

“Umm, yeah. It just means there’s a…. treasure nearby.” You lied and avoided her gaze. She couldn’t catch the lie, could she?

“Then why are we sitting here? Come on! You didn’t check the first floor, right?”

This was even worse. “Wait!” You called out to her. Quick! Think of something. “It only has some plushies in it. Nothing huge.” 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she picked up the menu. “And they dare call it treasure?”

Crisis averted. Although the feather intrigued you, you just wanted to forget everything for a few hours and have fun like nothing had happened. Like everything was normal, the picnic had gone great and you were just out to have a little girl’s night with your sister. But something in you felt like it was just the beginning. The beginning of a lot of something bigger. You couldn’t tell exactly what, neither did anything from the game match up. Shrugging off the feeling, you ordered some food and tried to eat your worries away. 

It was a very fulfilling night. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually had fun with your sister. She wasn’t any different from your original sister, but maybe it was the fact you bonded over a secret. 

After dinner, you were plagued with even more questions and thoughts. You wanted things to be normal just for a moment, but could they now? You wanted to know more about yourself, everything else and most importantly, if things could return to normal.

As if reading your thoughts, your sister spoke up. “Wanna go to that book cafe? Maybe we can find something useful there or just talk over coffee, you know.” You loved the idea. It was just what you needed.

The cafe seemed very warm and cosy, like a little, sweet corner in a chaotic life. It smelled of freshly brewed coffee and old books, a combination you absolutely adored. As soon as you entered, you started scanning the bookshelves. Even though it seemed unlikely, it didn’t hurt to try. 

Just as you suspected, there weren���t many useful books there. Turns out “soul-switching” was just a theory created by Professor Winster who had just disappeared off the face of the earth. 

Giving up, you both ordered cappuccino and settled down in a plush couch. Your sister decided to break the silence. “So, tell me more. What other love interests are there?” She was beaming with excitement. 

“Well, there’s five so far. Zayne and Rafayel, like I told you earlier. Then there’s Xavier, he’s a hunter who worked with the MC. And then Caleb-”

Your sister almost spit her coffee and practically screamed when she heard the name. “Caleb!? You mean THE Caleb!? Your childhood best friend, and possibly your only friend?” 

“Uh, you know him?” 

“Duh, he’s our neighbour. Although now that I think about it, it’s very weird considering how you used to say he’s just like your brother.” She raised an eyebrow and eyed you suspiciously over the coffee mug.

“Well, just so you know I never said that. And neighbour you say… Does he live alone?”

“With his grandma.”

“No one else?”

“Not that I know. Why?”

“Huh, that’s weird. I’ve been thinking about it and I don’t think I’m the MC here.”

Your sister’s face dropped. “What? Why not? I was hoping you’d invite Rafayel over.” She pouted. You chuckled and continued. “So the MC’s Evol is Anhausen Class. Well, so is mine apparently. But this isn’t how things started in the game.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I met Zayne at the hospital. I don’t remember that happening before the MC becomes a Hunter.”

“So, she met Zayne after she became a Hunter?”

“No, actually. She knew him already-” You sister clapped loudly, loud enough for everyone to turn to look at you. “There you go, maybe they had this interaction but it was never in the game. And you’re not a Hunter yet, but you know him. ALSO, I remember very clearly how you went on and on that you’d be the only Hunter with your Evol in your batch.”

She did sound right. But something still didn’t fit. “Yeah, but MC and Caleb grew up together in the same house. And MC was an orphan.”

“But everything doesn’t have to be the same, you know.” Your puzzled expression prompted her to explain further. “This isn’t a game. It’s an alternate universe, about which you just happen to know things. Or else, how do you explain me? Or our parents?”

You had to give it to your sister. She was smart. Smarter than you. You would’ve never been able to figure out what was happening and it was great to have someone to talk to, someone who’d understand and could help.

“Now that we’ve handled the main confusions, there’s just two questions left. Who brought you here? And who’s the fifth love interest?”

“Oh, he’s Sy-” You stopped. You’d decided not to tell her. What would she think that a mafia boss was randomly a love interest? 

“Oooo, come on now! He’s your favourite, I can tell. But lemme think. Sy, Sy, Sy, Sy.” She tapped her chin.

Your heart raced as she racked her brain trying to remember a Sy. You thought you’d get a heart attack when you saw her pull out her phone. “Wait! Stop!” She quickly pulled the phone out of her reach.

“Must be someone famous, huh? Weird, though. I don’t know any Sy and he’s not coming up here either.” She muttered to herself.

Of course, you couldn’t just google the Leader of Onychinus like that. You heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Must feel amazing, just realizing the fictional man that you fell in love with is real.” She stifled a laugh. Her words only got your heart to race further now. You could feel your cheeks heating up and palms getting clammy.

“I don’t love-love him. He’s just my favourite character, that’s all.”

“Then my next question. Do you have any idea who could be behind this?”

“I do, a little bit. It’s just a hunch, though.” 

EVER was a dangerous organisation. If they managed to you bring you here, who knew what else they were capable of. And what if they found out they’d managed to bring you here? What would they do? And why you? What was so important that made them bridge universes?

These were just some of the questions eating you alive, but you couldn’t share this with your sister. It was dangerous talking about it in public. Hell, it was dangerous just knowing about it. But she didn’t press you further. 

You glanced at your watch. 10:32 P.M.

“Let’s start heading home before it gets late.” You quickly finished your coffee and picked up your stuff to leave. As you stepped out of the cafe, you looked around only to find the streets eerily empty.

“Where’d everyone go? It’s not that late.”

A cold sweat crept up your back. Something wasn’t right and your sister felt it too. “Let’s just go.” Both of you started speed-walking home. 

Step. Step. Step.

You could hear the sound of footsteps growing louder. But they weren’t yours. You slightly turned your head back and saw two shadows getting closer. Slowly and quietly, you held your sister’s hand. “I think we might have to start running.”

“What!?”

“Shh! Someone’s following us.” On hearing these words, her head bolted back but you stopped her midway. “Don’t look!”

You looked around, trying to figure out your gameplan. You couldn’t walk or run all the way home. Although they could find out where you lived eventually. Maybe you could take a quick turn round the block, try to get out of sight and then go home? What if they followed you all the way there?

You turned to your sister. “When I say-” Before you could finish, you were interrupted.

CAW! CAW!

You almost stopped in your tracks and looked up. A mechanical looking crow was sitting on the roof of a house. Its eyes pierced through you. Mephisto. What the hell was happening? If Mephisto was around, so was Sylus. You couldn’t discern whether the men following you were his or if they were actual trouble. Once again, you made eye contact with the crow.

CAW!

You gripped your sister’s hand. Without looking back, you yelled. “Run!” You sprinted, fueled by adrenaline, not daring to glance back. You didn’t even stop to see if they were still following you. You couldn’t fathom the courage to look back or even try to listen to their footsteps. 

Within a minute, you made it back home, shut the door behind you and locked it. Your sister struggled to walk towards the fridge while you stood with your back against the door.

EVER knows.

Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist!

tags: @zenbutnotreally, @godoffuckedupcats, @noxus123, @madam8, @agustdxjiminx, @liz9898, @lemonn015, @tearydamsel, @diegojeanne, @alyssac9, @dummiebunny, @acesgarden, @bigclownshoes, @sylusgirlie7, @roseyjean, @poptrim, @pillarofsnow, @rxelarailuj, @brekkers-whore, @one17, @cchiiwinkle, @babyx91, @mourning-into-dancing, @yuhuahuaaa

[kannady]

wet kiss

pairing: sylus x gn!reader

summary: your busy boyfriend won't give you any attention. but it doesn't hurt to have fun, right?

a/n: another one of my random ideas. can't stop thinking about giving head to this man. lemme know if you liked it. and PLEASE gimme more oneshot ideas!

genre: sylus, sylus smut, love and deepspace smut, oral (male receiving), MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You came home from work exhausted, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders. The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the city outside. Kicking off your heels, you padded to the bedroom, stripping out of your work clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water soothed your muscles, washing away the tension, and by the time you toweled off and slipped into something comfortable, an oversized shirt and nothing else. 

The study door was slightly ajar when you approached, the dim glow of the desk lamp spilling into the hallway. You peeked inside and saw your boyfriend leaning back in his chair, one hand rubbing his temple, the other holding his phone to his ear. His voice was low, professional, the kind of tone he reserved for clients and colleagues. He hadn't noticed you yet.

Quietly, you slipped inside, letting the door click shut behind you. The study was his domain—dark wood, leather-bound books, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. You ran your fingers along the spines of the books as you wandered, pretending to browse, but your attention was entirely on him. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, exposing the strong line of his throat. You bit your lip.

Fuck.

A dangerous idea flickered in your mind.

You stood, moving silently toward him. His eyes flicked to you briefly, acknowledging your presence before returning to his screen. You bit your lip, then slowly, deliberately you climbed onto his desk, sitting right in front of him. His gaze snapped to you, a silent question in his eyes.

You answered by leaning in, pressing your lips to his neck.

A soft inhale. His fingers stilled on the keyboard.

You didn't stop.

Your mouth trailed along his throat, teeth grazing his skin, tongue soothing the faint sting. His pulse jumped beneath your lips. One of your hands slid down his chest, lower and lower until your palm pressed against the growing hardness in his jeans.

Oh.

He was already half-hard, just from this. You smirked against his skin, fingers tracing the outline of him through the fabric before palming him firmly. A quiet, strained noise escaped him, his breath hitching mid- sentence on the call.

He didn't stop you.

Encouraged, you dropped to your knees between his legs, fingers making quick work of his belt, his zipper. His hand clamped over your wrist. Not to push you away, but to squeeze, a silent warning. You looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted, waiting. His grip loosened.

He was wearing boxers, and you could see the outline of his hardening cock straining against the fabric.

You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock through his boxers. You could feel him twitching, growing harder by the second. You let your tongue linger, tracing the shape of his cock through the thin fabric.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly. His cock sprung free, and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of it. It was hard and throbbing, the head already glistening with pre-cum.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the weight of it in your palm. You started to stroke him slowly, your thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his shaft. He let out a low groan, his hips bucking slightly into your touch.

Leaning in, your tongue darting out to lick a stripe up the length of his cock. You swirled your tongue around the head, lapping up the pre-cum that was leaking from the tip. He tasted salty and slightly bitter, a flavor that you'd grown to love.

"Kitten-" His voice was a strained whisper, barely audible.

You ignored him, taking him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his thick girth. You could feel him pulsing against your tongue, growing harder with each passing second. You took him deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You started to bob your head, taking him in and out of your mouth. Your hand continued to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth, your fingers squeezing and caressing his shaft.

He was grunting and moaning, his hips rocking in time with your movements. His hand tightened in your hair, gripping it almost painfully as he lost himself in the sensation.

"Y-yes, l-fuck-I understand the proposal–"

You smirked around him, swirling your tongue along the underside, sucking hard. His thighs tensed, a broken sound tearing from his throat.

That was his breaking point.

"I'll call you back." His voice was rough, strained. He ripped the headset off, tossing it onto the desk before his hands were on you, dragging you up by your hair.

“You're fucking insane,” he growled, crashing his lips against yours. You moaned into the kiss, tasting him on his tongue mixed with your saliva.

"You didn't stop me," you breathed, fingers working his cock again, stroking him slowly.

"Because I like watching you be a greedy little slut." His grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back. "Now get back on your knees and finish what you started.”

You dropped eagerly, taking him into your mouth with a moan. This time, he didn't hold back. His hips rolled up, fucking into your throat, his groans loud and unfiltered.

"That's it, sweetie, take it– fuck–” His fingers twisted in your hair, guiding your pace, his thrusts growing erratic. "Gonna cum down your throat, gonna make you swallow every fucking drop-"

You whimpered, hollowing your cheeks, bobbing faster. You could feel him starting to throb harder, his cock twitching and pulsing in your mouth. You knew he was close, and you doubled your efforts, determined to make him cum.

His thighs trembled, his grip turning almost painful. "Kitten-"

With a final, hard suck, you felt him explode in your mouth. His cum shot down your throat, hot and thick, coating your tongue and the inside of your cheeks. You swallow it down greedily, relishing the taste of him, milking him through it until he was twitching, oversensitive.

When you finally pulled off, licking your lips clean, he dragged you up into a filthy, claiming kiss.

“Next time,” he murmured against your mouth, “I'm bending you over this desk and fucking you until you forget your own name.”

You shivered.

You couldn’t wait.