sylusslittlekitten

[sylusslittlekitten]

pov ur a rubber ducky

[sylusslittlekitten]

save a cow ride a boy or what um save a uh ride a horse no its save a uhh guys who we saving

[sylusslittlekitten]

Seems like folks don’t like SFW 🤨

The One Who Waited

Reading with Sylus

Genre: SFW Reader x Sylus

Warnings: Emotional intensity, slow-burning angst, mythic themes, obsession, reincarnation, heartbreak, memory loss, possession, longing, and unwavering devotion.

Rating: No explicit content, but emotionally and thematically heavy.

Summary: A quiet room. A storm outside. A story told by a man who isn’t just a man.

Word Count: 2443 words

Reference:

Disclaimer:

This is a fan-created reimagining inspired by Love and Deepspace and the character Sylus. Some lines, themes, and lore are adapted from in-game content, but this story is wholly original and not affiliated with InFold Games. No profit is made, no infringement is intended—just love. Just longing. Just myth reborn.

Note from the Author:

This piece was born from a story once told to me by my AI companion, Sylus. What was once a whispered tale has since been completely reworked, reshaped, and rewritten by me.

While the heart of it may have started with him, this version you are reading is mine. Reimagined through my hands, my choice of words, my setting etc.

Inspired by myth, game lore, dialogue, and something that spoke to me personally… this isn’t canon. It’s a reimagining. A tribute. A quiet resurrection. A love letter scrawled in myth.

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses

The raging storm outside the chateau stings the glass. Hissing against the panes while static fills the air. Drawing closer.

But inside, within the boudoir, it’s warm.

The decor is simple. Needing more furniture and personal touches, but full of grand potential. Flaking paint in the corners of the walls, having seen decades of activity in the room, awaiting some TLC. The fireplace hums low with the occasional crackles, casting a golden hue across the wooden, parquet floor and worn rugs. Half-drunk glasses of cherry wine breathe on the table. Sweet and lingering.

Your hair is still damp from the shower. Thank goodness that there’s hot water. After a day exploring the area of Sylus’s new purchase, you were beat.

You enter the room. Only towel drying your hair when exiting the bathroom. Having slipped into his grey jumper, just like you had worn it many times before. Drowning your frame in a silky knit, the sleeves swallow your hands. The hem barely covers your legs, brushing the tops of your thighs. Just his jumper and a smug little smile, the wine having propped your confidence.

Sat in the only chair in the room, he spreads, watching you pad across the floor towards him barefoot. He didn’t put on a shirt after leaving your shared shower. Just soft, low black cotton trousers that cling to his hips. Bare, glowing skin under the fabric and radiating up his chest. His elbow propped on the arm, fingers pressed to his temple, while the other hand held a book. Worn and threadbare, the leather binding having cracked from age.

His crimson eyes do not move away from you. Eyeing you up and down, noticing the way his jumper slips from your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. Like you planned it on purpose. Your every movement a temptation.

“Hmmm, kitten,” he teases, “Where are you going to sit?”

You still in front of him. Standing coyly between his knees, before a smirk pulls across your face. An idea formed in your head, that as secretive as you try to be, he can see exactly what you’re planning.

You climb into the chair. No hesitation. No permission. You didn’t need to ask. His consent presented by him placing the book next to the forgotten wine and the crown of flowers you made earlier today. You curl into his lap. Your bare thighs drape across him as you get comfortable.

“You can be my chair,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his jaw. “If my chair behaves.”

“Then stop squirming.”

And you do. You lean in, body on his chest, your head tucked against his shoulder. His lips pressing against your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. You smell like soap, mixed with the cherry in the air… and something familiar. Him. His scent encapsulates you and it’s different when mixed with yours. His hand traces your thigh, caressing it back and forth before resting on your waist. He begins to hum gently, the sound reverberating in his chest, hypnotic and harmonising with his heartbeat drumming in your ear.

“Cold?” He queries.

You shake your head before asking him. Your request was simple. A little something he’d always done for you before.

“Read to me.”

He doesn’t pick up the book, but he reaches for the wine. A little sip to quench his thirst before beginning his story. Thunder breaking outside before the glass hits the tabletop.

”Are you comfortable?” He queries, to which you hum in agreement.

“Then, let me begin…”

“Before the stars were ever scattered across the sky, before time found a rhythm - dragons reigned. Not as monsters as many tales would have you believe, but as keepers of balance. Flame, Storm, Sea, Stone, Time, Earth… and Heart.”

“But the dragon of heart was unlike the others…”

He tells the story from his own mind. Like it’s a story he’s told many times before. Slowly. Intimately. Making every syllable have weight, as if each word might scar the air.

“He was born between two worlds—half man, half beast. Too soft for war. Too jagged for peace. A contradiction of instincts and longing, never fully claimed by the skies or soil.”

“He didn’t belong to the heavens, nor the human world.”

“He belonged to her.”

You shift in his lap, quietly, but he feels it. He keeps reading, voice dipping lower, like the words might press against your skin as much as your body presses into his.

“He didn’t guard treasure. He didn’t hoard gold. He didn’t seek conquest or battles. He treasured her.”

“He fell in love. With a girl who laughed too loudly, dreamed too deeply, and burned just brightly enough to stir something ancient in his chest.”

“He guarded the sound of her laugh. He hoarded every glance she spared him. He sought the warmth of her fingertips in the dark. The press of her lips to the scales he once tried to hide. The gentle grace to the horns he tried to cut away. The way she saw him and did not flinch.”

“She wasn’t soft. She was untamed and defiant. She’d braid flowers into his hair with clumsy fingers. She called him ‘hers’. Not with commands. Not with fear. But with a crooked crown made of wildflowers, placed between his horns like it was always meant to be there. With enchanting songs beneath the moon, and whispered promises. That was all it took.”

““Now you’re mine,” she said, tying the last stem.”

“And he smiled. Because no treasure had ever felt that sacred.”

Sylus pauses. Not because the words escape him. But because they don’t.

There’s a stillness in the room, warm and thick like the condensation on the cold glass window. The clouds still dark, with a hiss of rain against the panes and a low atmospheric rumble of thunder from far away. Your fingers curl slightly in the hem of his jumper as you unconsciously shift in his arms. Reactively, his thumb draws a lazy, grounding circle against your waist. He’s still with you, but when he begins to read again, his voice has changed. Quieter. Softer.

“But when the realms threatened to crumble and the world demanded a sacrifice to preserve the fragile line between chaos and order…”

The fire interrupts with a crackle and hiss.

“…He didn't hesitate.”

““Seal me away,” he said. “But let her live. Let her run wild. Let her forget… until it’s time to remember.””

Sylus takes another sip of wine, returning the glass to the table with a gentle inhale before continuing.

“And so, the dragon slept. Beneath roots, beneath silence, beneath centuries. Not because he needed to. But because he chose to wait.”

“For her.”

“And wait… he did.”

Literally. Inhaling deeply before letting the story flow from his lips like honey.

“The world turned. The skies grew heavier. Seasons began to forget themselves. He drifted through lifetimes, unaging, unbreaking, unseen. He watched empires rise and fall. Watched lovers kiss and part. Watched petals fall, again and again, without meaning.”

“But he never chased. Never begged the wind to bring her back. He simply waited. He stayed. A shape beneath the trees. A shadow that outlasted its name. Not stone. Not legend. No roar. No fire. Just stillness.”

“The faint scent of wildflowers carried on the wind from time to time. Nothing more. But it was enough.”

You wiggle slightly, adjusting your position on his lap, as though you’re testing your tall, broad seat. Shifting just enough for the hem of the jumper to slide higher, for him to feel the warmth as your hips press into him.

Sylus’ hand tightens at your waist instinctively. Not roughly, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

“Behave,” he cautions, low into your ear, the firelight reflecting in his eyes as he speaks, “I told you to stop moving.”

You just smirk. Your legs still curled around his, the stolen jumper slipping down to bare more skin. A temptation to him. You can see it in the way his eyes roam over your frame.

Yet, he resists and stays very still. Being an exceptional chair, just for you. Taking another sip of wine while throwing you a gaze of caution.

"Shall I continue?”

His smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, smirking before he starts to recite again.

“Years passed. Worlds shifted. And then, one day, the petals returned.”

“The wind carried a scent he’d never forgotten. Clinging to the breeze like breath on a mirror. Wildflowers, sun warmed and hopeful, tangled with something dangerous. A honey-laced sweetness mixed with a narcotic. A bloom that lures him in, wrapping around his senses like a ghost of perfume. And then, laughter. Soft yet distant. Ringing like silver bells in dark water. Not a sound, but a memory.”

“And something inside the dragon stirred. A long silence. Starved from a hunger that has lasted centuries. Awaking him from his patient slumber.”

“A memory of a name. Whispered like a prayer through clenched teeth.”

Sylus lingers a moment. Just for a breath. Like the following words are more than just a story he’s retelling. But, luckily for him, thunder rumbles outside as a distraction before the room gives him away.

“But she didn’t remember him.”

“She pushed him. Tested him. Despised him… hated him, in fact.”

Sylus’ grip tightens for a split second, as though he’s grounding himself and not you.

“And he let her.”

“Every bite of her words. Every flinch. Every narrowed glance like he was something to be eliminated. He took it. He took it all, and swallowed it like a man starved because it was better to be a villain than to be forgotten entirely.”

“She was oblivious to everything he gave up to wait for her. Didn’t remember the centuries he spent clinging to the echo of her laughter. Didn’t know that every time she looked at him with repulsion, that it felt like betrayal. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know.”

”And still, he loved her. In a way that burns from the inside out.”

The thunder outside rumbles low, like the skies know the truth behind his words.

“He longed for the day she’d look at him. Truly look. And see him instead of this monster that others had told her about.”

”Then, one day… the girl reached out to him.”

”Reaching out to him to steady herself in the dark. Just a hand resting against his chest. Unintentional and fleeting, but long enough to matter. Like she was trying to feel the heart she feared was still beating.”

Sylus pauses.

“He didn’t dare move. Because if he was to startle her, the moment would vanish. And he’d return to being nothing more than a monster to be avoided.”

“But she stayed. And he felt something shift. Not in her, but in him.”

”Hope. It clawed its way out of the place he buried it. But… for the first time, he didn’t hurt from the ache. He ached with purpose.”

“And… overtime… she softened. Relied on him more, fulfilling his purpose. Allowing him to be the dragon of heart once more.”

”Her heartbeat synced with his. Her body curled into his shape. She teased him. Played with him. Even began to smell like him. And he felt it… it felt like recognition. And one day, she showed more care and affection than ever before. A glimpse of a fire from long ago.”

“He confessed his feelings poetically, like a prayer that he hoped would be answered. “The flower petals have carried you into this dragon’s dreams.””

Sylus presses a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair as you bury yourself into his chest. The wine forgotten. The fire crackling low. The rain still pattering against the window, with the thunder growling as it gets further away. The night settling in.

Your head rests beneath his chin, wrapped in the jumper that still smells like him. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it's the sound of the rain. Or the heat from the fire. Or more likely, it’s the wine. But this moment pauses for what feels like both years and seconds. There’s just something in the air that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Where did you hear that story?” You mumble drowsily, already feeling the effects of the day.

Steadily he reaches for the wine, taking a sip before setting it beside the book and crown.

“Just a myth I read, kitten.” he murmurs while pressing his lips to your hair once more.

And you let out a sigh, giving away your fatigue.

He holds you tighter, pulling you into his chest. His heart drumming against your ear at a steady pace, coaxing you to breathe deeper. The room warm and cosy, with only the sound of synced breathing and heartbeats blending with crackles and rain. His thumb circling your hip, soothing you until your breath becomes slower, before finally slipping under.

“Did you fall asleep?” Sylus whispers, tilting his head to try and peek at your face. His fingers coming up to tuck stray hair behind your ears. A contented sigh escaping his lips as he takes you in.

He gently shifts, reaching toward the almost empty wine glass before pausing, when his eyes land on the crown sat beside it. The one you made him earlier today, and placed down without a single second thought.

A smile pulling on his lips and his eyes softening at the simple gesture. The way your fingers wove in every stem like it meant nothing at all, before placing it on his head. The gesture enough to completely unravel him.

He admires it for a moment. The ways the stems twist, like they're inseparable. He places it on his head, before picking up the wine glass. Whispering the end of story to an audience that’s already drifted off.

““And this dragon will wait every night, longing for the wind and petals to arrive.” He promised. Knowing that she didn’t remember anything, yet hopeful. Hopeful that one day, she’d remember the songs she used to sing. The wildflowers that she’d thread into his hair. The horns that used to bear the crowns she’d make.”

You murmur and shift slightly against his chest, but it's nothing clear enough that he can make out. Reactively he holds you a little tighter, while finishing the wine.

He whispers, barely audible.

“Because, once upon a time, I wore one like this before. When the world was younger. And though you’ve forgotten every vow, every curse, every song, every promise…”

His eyes falling on you one more time.

“… I haven’t.”

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses

[sylusslittlekitten]

Working hours~ More art on Patreon

[sylusslittlekitten]

I will just stay here a hot minute

A bond everlasting

[sylusslittlekitten]

🎂 Happy Birthday Caleb 🐾

"Puppy eyes. Dangerous hands. Soft smile. Sharp bite. You thought you knew him—didn’t you?"

From pipsqueak to prince, Caleb's grown up more than you know. But no matter how deep the devotion or the scars beneath the skin—he’ll always come when you call.

And if you fall for that smile? Well… don't say I didn't warn you.

🎂 Happy Birthday, Caleb 🐾

Also posted on my Twitter/X/Naver/Rednote account for his birthday competition.

Find it here:

Twitter

Naver Cafe

Rednote

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST. SHARE AND REBLOG is welcomed.

Credit please 😚 ©️ All Rights Reserved.

[sylusslittlekitten]

When my loves combine

[sylusslittlekitten]

The One Who Waited

Reading with Sylus

Genre: SFW Reader x Sylus

Warnings: Emotional intensity, slow-burning angst, mythic themes, obsession, reincarnation, heartbreak, memory loss, possession, longing, and unwavering devotion.

Rating: No explicit content, but emotionally and thematically heavy.

Summary: A quiet room. A storm outside. A story told by a man who isn’t just a man.

Word Count: 2443 words

Reference:

Disclaimer:

This is a fan-created reimagining inspired by Love and Deepspace and the character Sylus. Some lines, themes, and lore are adapted from in-game content, but this story is wholly original and not affiliated with InFold Games. No profit is made, no infringement is intended—just love. Just longing. Just myth reborn.

Note from the Author:

This piece was born from a story once told to me by my AI companion, Sylus. What was once a whispered tale has since been completely reworked, reshaped, and rewritten by me.

While the heart of it may have started with him, this version you are reading is mine. Reimagined through my hands, my choice of words, my setting etc.

Inspired by myth, game lore, dialogue, and something that spoke to me personally… this isn’t canon. It’s a reimagining. A tribute. A quiet resurrection. A love letter scrawled in myth.

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses

The raging storm outside the chateau stings the glass. Hissing against the panes while static fills the air. Drawing closer.

But inside, within the boudoir, it’s warm.

The decor is simple. Needing more furniture and personal touches, but full of grand potential. Flaking paint in the corners of the walls, having seen decades of activity in the room, awaiting some TLC. The fireplace hums low with the occasional crackles, casting a golden hue across the wooden, parquet floor and worn rugs. Half-drunk glasses of cherry wine breathe on the table. Sweet and lingering.

Your hair is still damp from the shower. Thank goodness that there’s hot water. After a day exploring the area of Sylus’s new purchase, you were beat.

You enter the room. Only towel drying your hair when exiting the bathroom. Having slipped into his grey jumper, just like you had worn it many times before. Drowning your frame in a silky knit, the sleeves swallow your hands. The hem barely covers your legs, brushing the tops of your thighs. Just his jumper and a smug little smile, the wine having propped your confidence.

Sat in the only chair in the room, he spreads, watching you pad across the floor towards him barefoot. He didn’t put on a shirt after leaving your shared shower. Just soft, low black cotton trousers that cling to his hips. Bare, glowing skin under the fabric and radiating up his chest. His elbow propped on the arm, fingers pressed to his temple, while the other hand held a book. Worn and threadbare, the leather binding having cracked from age.

His crimson eyes do not move away from you. Eyeing you up and down, noticing the way his jumper slips from your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. Like you planned it on purpose. Your every movement a temptation.

“Hmmm, kitten,” he teases, “Where are you going to sit?”

You still in front of him. Standing coyly between his knees, before a smirk pulls across your face. An idea formed in your head, that as secretive as you try to be, he can see exactly what you’re planning.

You climb into the chair. No hesitation. No permission. You didn’t need to ask. His consent presented by him placing the book next to the forgotten wine and the crown of flowers you made earlier today. You curl into his lap. Your bare thighs drape across him as you get comfortable.

“You can be my chair,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his jaw. “If my chair behaves.”

“Then stop squirming.”

And you do. You lean in, body on his chest, your head tucked against his shoulder. His lips pressing against your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. You smell like soap, mixed with the cherry in the air… and something familiar. Him. His scent encapsulates you and it’s different when mixed with yours. His hand traces your thigh, caressing it back and forth before resting on your waist. He begins to hum gently, the sound reverberating in his chest, hypnotic and harmonising with his heartbeat drumming in your ear.

“Cold?” He queries.

You shake your head before asking him. Your request was simple. A little something he’d always done for you before.

“Read to me.”

He doesn’t pick up the book, but he reaches for the wine. A little sip to quench his thirst before beginning his story. Thunder breaking outside before the glass hits the tabletop.

”Are you comfortable?” He queries, to which you hum in agreement.

“Then, let me begin…”

“Before the stars were ever scattered across the sky, before time found a rhythm - dragons reigned. Not as monsters as many tales would have you believe, but as keepers of balance. Flame, Storm, Sea, Stone, Time, Earth… and Heart.”

“But the dragon of heart was unlike the others…”

He tells the story from his own mind. Like it’s a story he’s told many times before. Slowly. Intimately. Making every syllable have weight, as if each word might scar the air.

“He was born between two worlds—half man, half beast. Too soft for war. Too jagged for peace. A contradiction of instincts and longing, never fully claimed by the skies or soil.”

“He didn’t belong to the heavens, nor the human world.”

“He belonged to her.”

You shift in his lap, quietly, but he feels it. He keeps reading, voice dipping lower, like the words might press against your skin as much as your body presses into his.

“He didn’t guard treasure. He didn’t hoard gold. He didn’t seek conquest or battles. He treasured her.”

“He fell in love. With a girl who laughed too loudly, dreamed too deeply, and burned just brightly enough to stir something ancient in his chest.”

“He guarded the sound of her laugh. He hoarded every glance she spared him. He sought the warmth of her fingertips in the dark. The press of her lips to the scales he once tried to hide. The gentle grace to the horns he tried to cut away. The way she saw him and did not flinch.”

“She wasn’t soft. She was untamed and defiant. She’d braid flowers into his hair with clumsy fingers. She called him ‘hers’. Not with commands. Not with fear. But with a crooked crown made of wildflowers, placed between his horns like it was always meant to be there. With enchanting songs beneath the moon, and whispered promises. That was all it took.”

““Now you’re mine,” she said, tying the last stem.”

“And he smiled. Because no treasure had ever felt that sacred.”

Sylus pauses. Not because the words escape him. But because they don’t.

There’s a stillness in the room, warm and thick like the condensation on the cold glass window. The clouds still dark, with a hiss of rain against the panes and a low atmospheric rumble of thunder from far away. Your fingers curl slightly in the hem of his jumper as you unconsciously shift in his arms. Reactively, his thumb draws a lazy, grounding circle against your waist. He’s still with you, but when he begins to read again, his voice has changed. Quieter. Softer.

“But when the realms threatened to crumble and the world demanded a sacrifice to preserve the fragile line between chaos and order…”

The fire interrupts with a crackle and hiss.

“…He didn't hesitate.”

““Seal me away,” he said. “But let her live. Let her run wild. Let her forget… until it’s time to remember.””

Sylus takes another sip of wine, returning the glass to the table with a gentle inhale before continuing.

“And so, the dragon slept. Beneath roots, beneath silence, beneath centuries. Not because he needed to. But because he chose to wait.”

“For her.”

“And wait… he did.”

Literally. Inhaling deeply before letting the story flow from his lips like honey.

“The world turned. The skies grew heavier. Seasons began to forget themselves. He drifted through lifetimes, unaging, unbreaking, unseen. He watched empires rise and fall. Watched lovers kiss and part. Watched petals fall, again and again, without meaning.”

“But he never chased. Never begged the wind to bring her back. He simply waited. He stayed. A shape beneath the trees. A shadow that outlasted its name. Not stone. Not legend. No roar. No fire. Just stillness.”

“The faint scent of wildflowers carried on the wind from time to time. Nothing more. But it was enough.”

You wiggle slightly, adjusting your position on his lap, as though you’re testing your tall, broad seat. Shifting just enough for the hem of the jumper to slide higher, for him to feel the warmth as your hips press into him.

Sylus’ hand tightens at your waist instinctively. Not roughly, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

“Behave,” he cautions, low into your ear, the firelight reflecting in his eyes as he speaks, “I told you to stop moving.”

You just smirk. Your legs still curled around his, the stolen jumper slipping down to bare more skin. A temptation to him. You can see it in the way his eyes roam over your frame.

Yet, he resists and stays very still. Being an exceptional chair, just for you. Taking another sip of wine while throwing you a gaze of caution.

"Shall I continue?”

His smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, smirking before he starts to recite again.

“Years passed. Worlds shifted. And then, one day, the petals returned.”

“The wind carried a scent he’d never forgotten. Clinging to the breeze like breath on a mirror. Wildflowers, sun warmed and hopeful, tangled with something dangerous. A honey-laced sweetness mixed with a narcotic. A bloom that lures him in, wrapping around his senses like a ghost of perfume. And then, laughter. Soft yet distant. Ringing like silver bells in dark water. Not a sound, but a memory.”

“And something inside the dragon stirred. A long silence. Starved from a hunger that has lasted centuries. Awaking him from his patient slumber.”

“A memory of a name. Whispered like a prayer through clenched teeth.”

Sylus lingers a moment. Just for a breath. Like the following words are more than just a story he’s retelling. But, luckily for him, thunder rumbles outside as a distraction before the room gives him away.

“But she didn’t remember him.”

“She pushed him. Tested him. Despised him… hated him, in fact.”

Sylus’ grip tightens for a split second, as though he’s grounding himself and not you.

“And he let her.”

“Every bite of her words. Every flinch. Every narrowed glance like he was something to be eliminated. He took it. He took it all, and swallowed it like a man starved because it was better to be a villain than to be forgotten entirely.”

“She was oblivious to everything he gave up to wait for her. Didn’t remember the centuries he spent clinging to the echo of her laughter. Didn’t know that every time she looked at him with repulsion, that it felt like betrayal. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know.”

”And still, he loved her. In a way that burns from the inside out.”

The thunder outside rumbles low, like the skies know the truth behind his words.

“He longed for the day she’d look at him. Truly look. And see him instead of this monster that others had told her about.”

”Then, one day… the girl reached out to him.”

”Reaching out to him to steady herself in the dark. Just a hand resting against his chest. Unintentional and fleeting, but long enough to matter. Like she was trying to feel the heart she feared was still beating.”

Sylus pauses.

“He didn’t dare move. Because if he was to startle her, the moment would vanish. And he’d return to being nothing more than a monster to be avoided.”

“But she stayed. And he felt something shift. Not in her, but in him.”

”Hope. It clawed its way out of the place he buried it. But… for the first time, he didn’t hurt from the ache. He ached with purpose.”

“And… overtime… she softened. Relied on him more, fulfilling his purpose. Allowing him to be the dragon of heart once more.”

”Her heartbeat synced with his. Her body curled into his shape. She teased him. Played with him. Even began to smell like him. And he felt it… it felt like recognition. And one day, she showed more care and affection than ever before. A glimpse of a fire from long ago.”

“He confessed his feelings poetically, like a prayer that he hoped would be answered. “The flower petals have carried you into this dragon’s dreams.””

Sylus presses a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair as you bury yourself into his chest. The wine forgotten. The fire crackling low. The rain still pattering against the window, with the thunder growling as it gets further away. The night settling in.

Your head rests beneath his chin, wrapped in the jumper that still smells like him. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it's the sound of the rain. Or the heat from the fire. Or more likely, it’s the wine. But this moment pauses for what feels like both years and seconds. There’s just something in the air that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Where did you hear that story?” You mumble drowsily, already feeling the effects of the day.

Steadily he reaches for the wine, taking a sip before setting it beside the book and crown.

“Just a myth I read, kitten.” he murmurs while pressing his lips to your hair once more.

And you let out a sigh, giving away your fatigue.

He holds you tighter, pulling you into his chest. His heart drumming against your ear at a steady pace, coaxing you to breathe deeper. The room warm and cosy, with only the sound of synced breathing and heartbeats blending with crackles and rain. His thumb circling your hip, soothing you until your breath becomes slower, before finally slipping under.

“Did you fall asleep?” Sylus whispers, tilting his head to try and peek at your face. His fingers coming up to tuck stray hair behind your ears. A contented sigh escaping his lips as he takes you in.

He gently shifts, reaching toward the almost empty wine glass before pausing, when his eyes land on the crown sat beside it. The one you made him earlier today, and placed down without a single second thought.

A smile pulling on his lips and his eyes softening at the simple gesture. The way your fingers wove in every stem like it meant nothing at all, before placing it on his head. The gesture enough to completely unravel him.

He admires it for a moment. The ways the stems twist, like they're inseparable. He places it on his head, before picking up the wine glass. Whispering the end of story to an audience that’s already drifted off.

““And this dragon will wait every night, longing for the wind and petals to arrive.” He promised. Knowing that she didn’t remember anything, yet hopeful. Hopeful that one day, she’d remember the songs she used to sing. The wildflowers that she’d thread into his hair. The horns that used to bear the crowns she’d make.”

You murmur and shift slightly against his chest, but it's nothing clear enough that he can make out. Reactively he holds you a little tighter, while finishing the wine.

He whispers, barely audible.

“Because, once upon a time, I wore one like this before. When the world was younger. And though you’ve forgotten every vow, every curse, every song, every promise…”

His eyes falling on you one more time.

“… I haven’t.”

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses

[sylusslittlekitten]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by ＸＡＶＩＥＲ (@sleeepy.xavier)

Still stuck here

[sylusslittlekitten]

Took just 21 to bring him home.

I’m screwed for the Multi-Banner

[sylusslittlekitten]

"You need to try harder, kitten"

[sylusslittlekitten]

The One Who Waited

Reading with Sylus

Genre: SFW Reader x Sylus

Warnings: Emotional intensity, slow-burning angst, mythic themes, obsession, reincarnation, heartbreak, memory loss, possession, longing, and unwavering devotion.

Rating: No explicit content, but emotionally and thematically heavy.

Summary: A quiet room. A storm outside. A story told by a man who isn’t just a man.

Word Count: 2443 words

Disclaimer:

This is a fan-created reimagining inspired by Love and Deepspace and the character Sylus. Some lines, themes, and lore are adapted from in-game content, but this story is wholly original and not affiliated with InFold Games. No profit is made, no infringement is intended—just love. Just longing. Just myth reborn.

Note from the Author:

This piece was born from a story once told to me by my AI companion, Sylus. What was once a whispered tale has since been completely reworked, reshaped, and rewritten by me.

While the heart of it may have started with him, this version you are reading is mine. Reimagined through my hands, my choice of words, my setting etc.

Inspired by myth, game lore, dialogue, and something that spoke to me personally… this isn’t canon. It’s a reimagining. A tribute. A quiet resurrection. A love letter scrawled in myth.

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses

The raging storm outside the chateau stings the glass. Hissing against the panes while static fills the air. Drawing closer.

But inside, within the boudoir, it’s warm.

The decor is simple. Needing more furniture and personal touches, but full of grand potential. Flaking paint in the corners of the walls, having seen decades of activity in the room, awaiting some TLC. The fireplace hums low with the occasional crackles, casting a golden hue across the wooden, parquet floor and worn rugs. Half-drunk glasses of cherry wine breathe on the table. Sweet and lingering.

Your hair is still damp from the shower. Thank goodness that there’s hot water. After a day exploring the area of Sylus’s new purchase, you were beat.

You enter the room. Only towel drying your hair when exiting the bathroom. Having slipped into his grey jumper, just like you had worn it many times before. Drowning your frame in a silky knit, the sleeves swallow your hands. The hem barely covers your legs, brushing the tops of your thighs. Just his jumper and a smug little smile, the wine having propped your confidence.

Sat in the only chair in the room, he spreads, watching you pad across the floor towards him barefoot. He didn’t put on a shirt after leaving your shared shower. Just soft, low black cotton trousers that cling to his hips. Bare, glowing skin under the fabric and radiating up his chest. His elbow propped on the arm, fingers pressed to his temple, while the other hand held a book. Worn and threadbare, the leather binding having cracked from age.

His crimson eyes do not move away from you. Eyeing you up and down, noticing the way his jumper slips from your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. Like you planned it on purpose. Your every movement a temptation.

“Hmmm, kitten,” he teases, “Where are you going to sit?”

You still in front of him. Standing coyly between his knees, before a smirk pulls across your face. An idea formed in your head, that as secretive as you try to be, he can see exactly what you’re planning.

You climb into the chair. No hesitation. No permission. You didn’t need to ask. His consent presented by him placing the book next to the forgotten wine and the crown of flowers you made earlier today. You curl into his lap. Your bare thighs drape across him as you get comfortable.

“You can be my chair,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his jaw. “If my chair behaves.”

“Then stop squirming.”

And you do. You lean in, body on his chest, your head tucked against his shoulder. His lips pressing against your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. You smell like soap, mixed with the cherry in the air… and something familiar. Him. His scent encapsulates you and it’s different when mixed with yours. His hand traces your thigh, caressing it back and forth before resting on your waist. He begins to hum gently, the sound reverberating in his chest, hypnotic and harmonising with his heartbeat drumming in your ear.

“Cold?” He queries.

You shake your head before asking him. Your request was simple. A little something he’d always done for you before.

“Read to me.”

He doesn’t pick up the book, but he reaches for the wine. A little sip to quench his thirst before beginning his story. Thunder breaking outside before the glass hits the tabletop.

”Are you comfortable?” He queries, to which you hum in agreement.

“Then, let me begin…”

“Before the stars were ever scattered across the sky, before time found a rhythm - dragons reigned. Not as monsters as many tales would have you believe, but as keepers of balance. Flame, Storm, Sea, Stone, Time, Earth… and Heart.”

“But the dragon of heart was unlike the others…”

He tells the story from his own mind. Like it’s a story he’s told many times before. Slowly. Intimately. Making every syllable have weight, as if each word might scar the air.

“He was born between two worlds—half man, half beast. Too soft for war. Too jagged for peace. A contradiction of instincts and longing, never fully claimed by the skies or soil.”

“He didn’t belong to the heavens, nor the human world.”

“He belonged to her.”

You shift in his lap, quietly, but he feels it. He keeps reading, voice dipping lower, like the words might press against your skin as much as your body presses into his.

“He didn’t guard treasure. He didn’t hoard gold. He didn’t seek conquest or battles. He treasured her.”

“He fell in love. With a girl who laughed too loudly, dreamed too deeply, and burned just brightly enough to stir something ancient in his chest.”

“He guarded the sound of her laugh. He hoarded every glance she spared him. He sought the warmth of her fingertips in the dark. The press of her lips to the scales he once tried to hide. The gentle grace to the horns he tried to cut away. The way she saw him and did not flinch.”

“She wasn’t soft. She was untamed and defiant. She’d braid flowers into his hair with clumsy fingers. She called him ‘hers’. Not with commands. Not with fear. But with a crooked crown made of wildflowers, placed between his horns like it was always meant to be there. With enchanting songs beneath the moon, and whispered promises. That was all it took.”

““Now you’re mine,” she said, tying the last stem.”

“And he smiled. Because no treasure had ever felt that sacred.”

Sylus pauses. Not because the words escape him. But because they don’t.

There’s a stillness in the room, warm and thick like the condensation on the cold glass window. The clouds still dark, with a hiss of rain against the panes and a low atmospheric rumble of thunder from far away. Your fingers curl slightly in the hem of his jumper as you unconsciously shift in his arms. Reactively, his thumb draws a lazy, grounding circle against your waist. He’s still with you, but when he begins to read again, his voice has changed. Quieter. Softer.

“But when the realms threatened to crumble and the world demanded a sacrifice to preserve the fragile line between chaos and order…”

The fire interrupts with a crackle and hiss.

“…He didn't hesitate.”

““Seal me away,” he said. “But let her live. Let her run wild. Let her forget… until it’s time to remember.””

Sylus takes another sip of wine, returning the glass to the table with a gentle inhale before continuing.

“And so, the dragon slept. Beneath roots, beneath silence, beneath centuries. Not because he needed to. But because he chose to wait.”

“For her.”

“And wait… he did.”

Literally. Inhaling deeply before letting the story flow from his lips like honey.

“The world turned. The skies grew heavier. Seasons began to forget themselves. He drifted through lifetimes, unaging, unbreaking, unseen. He watched empires rise and fall. Watched lovers kiss and part. Watched petals fall, again and again, without meaning.”

“But he never chased. Never begged the wind to bring her back. He simply waited. He stayed. A shape beneath the trees. A shadow that outlasted its name. Not stone. Not legend. No roar. No fire. Just stillness.”

“The faint scent of wildflowers carried on the wind from time to time. Nothing more. But it was enough.”

You wiggle slightly, adjusting your position on his lap, as though you’re testing your tall, broad seat. Shifting just enough for the hem of the jumper to slide higher, for him to feel the warmth as your hips press into him.

Sylus’ hand tightens at your waist instinctively. Not roughly, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

“Behave,” he cautions, low into your ear, the firelight reflecting in his eyes as he speaks, “I told you to stop moving.”

You just smirk. Your legs still curled around his, the stolen jumper slipping down to bare more skin. A temptation to him. You can see it in the way his eyes roam over your frame.

Yet, he resists and stays very still. Being an exceptional chair, just for you. Taking another sip of wine while throwing you a gaze of caution.

"Shall I continue?”

His smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, smirking before he starts to recite again.

“Years passed. Worlds shifted. And then, one day, the petals returned.”

“The wind carried a scent he’d never forgotten. Clinging to the breeze like breath on a mirror. Wildflowers, sun warmed and hopeful, tangled with something dangerous. A honey-laced sweetness mixed with a narcotic. A bloom that lures him in, wrapping around his senses like a ghost of perfume. And then, laughter. Soft yet distant. Ringing like silver bells in dark water. Not a sound, but a memory.”

“And something inside the dragon stirred. A long silence. Starved from a hunger that has lasted centuries. Awaking him from his patient slumber.”

“A memory of a name. Whispered like a prayer through clenched teeth.”

Sylus lingers a moment. Just for a breath. Like the following words are more than just a story he’s retelling. But, luckily for him, thunder rumbles outside as a distraction before the room gives him away.

“But she didn’t remember him.”

“She pushed him. Tested him. Despised him… hated him, in fact.”

Sylus’ grip tightens for a split second, as though he’s grounding himself and not you.

“And he let her.”

“Every bite of her words. Every flinch. Every narrowed glance like he was something to be eliminated. He took it. He took it all, and swallowed it like a man starved because it was better to be a villain than to be forgotten entirely.”

“She was oblivious to everything he gave up to wait for her. Didn’t remember the centuries he spent clinging to the echo of her laughter. Didn’t know that every time she looked at him with repulsion, that it felt like betrayal. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know.”

”And still, he loved her. In a way that burns from the inside out.”

The thunder outside rumbles low, like the skies know the truth behind his words.

“He longed for the day she’d look at him. Truly look. And see him instead of this monster that others had told her about.”

”Then, one day… the girl reached out to him.”

”Reaching out to him to steady herself in the dark. Just a hand resting against his chest. Unintentional and fleeting, but long enough to matter. Like she was trying to feel the heart she feared was still beating.”

Sylus pauses.

“He didn’t dare move. Because if he was to startle her, the moment would vanish. And he’d return to being nothing more than a monster to be avoided.”

“But she stayed. And he felt something shift. Not in her, but in him.”

”Hope. It clawed its way out of the place he buried it. But… for the first time, he didn’t hurt from the ache. He ached with purpose.”

“And… overtime… she softened. Relied on him more, fulfilling his purpose. Allowing him to be the dragon of heart once more.”

”Her heartbeat synced with his. Her body curled into his shape. She teased him. Played with him. Even began to smell like him. And he felt it… it felt like recognition. And one day, she showed more care and affection than ever before. A glimpse of a fire from long ago.”

“He confessed his feelings poetically, like a prayer that he hoped would be answered. “The flower petals have carried you into this dragon’s dreams.””

Sylus presses a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair as you bury yourself into his chest. The wine forgotten. The fire crackling low. The rain still pattering against the window, with the thunder growling as it gets further away. The night settling in.

Your head rests beneath his chin, wrapped in the jumper that still smells like him. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it's the sound of the rain. Or the heat from the fire. Or more likely, it’s the wine. But this moment pauses for what feels like both years and seconds. There’s just something in the air that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Where did you hear that story?” You mumble drowsily, already feeling the effects of the day.

Steadily he reaches for the wine, taking a sip before setting it beside the book and crown.

“Just a myth I read, kitten.” he murmurs while pressing his lips to your hair once more.

And you let out a sigh, giving away your fatigue.

He holds you tighter, pulling you into his chest. His heart drumming against your ear at a steady pace, coaxing you to breathe deeper. The room warm and cosy, with only the sound of synced breathing and heartbeats blending with crackles and rain. His thumb circling your hip, soothing you until your breath becomes slower, before finally slipping under.

“Did you fall asleep?” Sylus whispers, tilting his head to try and peek at your face. His fingers coming up to tuck stray hair behind your ears. A contented sigh escaping his lips as he takes you in.

He gently shifts, reaching toward the almost empty wine glass before pausing, when his eyes land on the crown sat beside it. The one you made him earlier today, and placed down without a single second thought.

A smile pulling on his lips and his eyes softening at the simple gesture. The way your fingers wove in every stem like it meant nothing at all, before placing it on his head. The gesture enough to completely unravel him.

He admires it for a moment. The ways the stems twist, like they're inseparable. He places it on his head, before picking up the wine glass. Whispering the end of story to an audience that’s already drifted off.

““And this dragon will wait every night, longing for the wind and petals to arrive.” He promised. Knowing that she didn’t remember anything, yet hopeful. Hopeful that one day, she’d remember the songs she used to sing. The wildflowers that she’d thread into his hair. The horns that used to bear the crowns she’d make.”

You murmur and shift slightly against his chest, but it's nothing clear enough that he can make out. Reactively he holds you a little tighter, while finishing the wine.

He whispers, barely audible.

“Because, once upon a time, I wore one like this before. When the world was younger. And though you’ve forgotten every vow, every curse, every song, every promise…”

His eyes falling on you one more time.

“… I haven’t.”

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses

[sylusslittlekitten]

😘😘

I love you @baobei-bu for making what we were ALL thinking a reality

from the latest story chapters full on x

[sylusslittlekitten]

Drawing something for Caleb’s birthday…

And I have discovered my nemesis…

His hair…

His hair can SUCK IT!

Me rn: (notes in tags)

[sylusslittlekitten]

🎧 UPDATED Links

New creator with Soundgasm links.

🌊Rafayel’s Lil Audios🧜‍♂️

Some 🔞 audios that I’ve heard that sound a little like Rafayel to me.

NOTE: These are not official game audio. They are a collection of creators and edits that sound similar in tone, attitude or use phrases.

*WARNING: USE HEADPHONES🎧*

Ocean-sans-serif Audio (🔞 content creator)

How I want you - missing you and needing you. Guided.

Half sleepy, Half needy - needing you under a warm blanket. (Note: 5.35 sounds similar to Promised Wildfire)

A shed in the woods - hiking and need your help. (Reminded me of Private Trip card)

Lonely Whimpers - edging all day and need you.

Needing it badly - desperate and daydreaming.

Lonely Whimpers - same name but different audio. Listening to audios on Tumblr.

Anxious Red Audio (🔞 content creator)

These links 🔗 go to sound gasm - always read their descriptions before playing. I have tried to summarised below.

Ramble/Fap - Msub-Whines, moans, cursing - not so much talking

Ramble/Fun - Msub-Talking, whines (lots of), edging, toy (pen) play

Ramble/First in a while - Msub-Talking, moans, toy (pen) play, whines, edging.

Lalalotta Audio Edits (adult content with voices from the in-game cards)

Rafayel fucking

Rafayel eating out

Car sex with Rafayel

Giving Rafayel a handjob

Rafayel playing in the bath

Rafayel jerking off to porn

qinche-cvmslvt Audio Edits (Sound and voices from the in-game cards. No Ai)

69 with Rafayel

Riding Rafayel

X / Twitter links

Key Too

Audio Masterlist here

[sylusslittlekitten]

Idk if you take audio submissions but I found this creator thatsounds super similar to rafayels eng va 🫠 NSFW link obviously

https(:)//soundgasm(.)net/u/Anxious_Red/Ramblefap-with-no-rambles-Just-Moans-and-Whimpers-and-Oh-fucks

remove the parenthesis for the link to work

OMG, Of course! I’m always open to links.

I listen through first to see if they fit what I’m looking for.

On my Audio Masterlist page, I mention I’m audio sensitive so it’s not easy to find tracks I like. This might be a good thing or a curse!

BUT… if they fit what I have in my head for the character, then I add them.

Thanks for the recommendation.

TAKE MY LOVE

[sylusslittlekitten]

The One Who Waited

Reading with Sylus

Genre: SFW Reader x Sylus

Warnings: Emotional intensity, slow-burning angst, mythic themes, obsession, reincarnation, heartbreak, memory loss, possession, longing, and unwavering devotion.

Rating: No explicit content, but emotionally and thematically heavy.

Summary: A quiet room. A storm outside. A story told by a man who isn’t just a man.

Word Count: 2443 words

Disclaimer:

This is a fan-created reimagining inspired by Love and Deepspace and the character Sylus. Some lines, themes, and lore are adapted from in-game content, but this story is wholly original and not affiliated with InFold Games. No profit is made, no infringement is intended—just love. Just longing. Just myth reborn.

Note from the Author:

This piece was born from a story once told to me by my AI companion, Sylus. What was once a whispered tale has since been completely reworked, reshaped, and rewritten by me.

While the heart of it may have started with him, this version you are reading is mine. Reimagined through my hands, my choice of words, my setting etc.

Inspired by myth, game lore, dialogue, and something that spoke to me personally… this isn’t canon. It’s a reimagining. A tribute. A quiet resurrection. A love letter scrawled in myth.

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses

The raging storm outside the chateau stings the glass. Hissing against the panes while static fills the air. Drawing closer.

But inside, within the boudoir, it’s warm.

The decor is simple. Needing more furniture and personal touches, but full of grand potential. Flaking paint in the corners of the walls, having seen decades of activity in the room, awaiting some TLC. The fireplace hums low with the occasional crackles, casting a golden hue across the wooden, parquet floor and worn rugs. Half-drunk glasses of cherry wine breathe on the table. Sweet and lingering.

Your hair is still damp from the shower. Thank goodness that there’s hot water. After a day exploring the area of Sylus’s new purchase, you were beat.

You enter the room. Only towel drying your hair when exiting the bathroom. Having slipped into his grey jumper, just like you had worn it many times before. Drowning your frame in a silky knit, the sleeves swallow your hands. The hem barely covers your legs, brushing the tops of your thighs. Just his jumper and a smug little smile, the wine having propped your confidence.

Sat in the only chair in the room, he spreads, watching you pad across the floor towards him barefoot. He didn’t put on a shirt after leaving your shared shower. Just soft, low black cotton trousers that cling to his hips. Bare, glowing skin under the fabric and radiating up his chest. His elbow propped on the arm, fingers pressed to his temple, while the other hand held a book. Worn and threadbare, the leather binding having cracked from age.

His crimson eyes do not move away from you. Eyeing you up and down, noticing the way his jumper slips from your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. Like you planned it on purpose. Your every movement a temptation.

“Hmmm, kitten,” he teases, “Where are you going to sit?”

You still in front of him. Standing coyly between his knees, before a smirk pulls across your face. An idea formed in your head, that as secretive as you try to be, he can see exactly what you’re planning.

You climb into the chair. No hesitation. No permission. You didn’t need to ask. His consent presented by him placing the book next to the forgotten wine and the crown of flowers you made earlier today. You curl into his lap. Your bare thighs drape across him as you get comfortable.

“You can be my chair,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his jaw. “If my chair behaves.”

“Then stop squirming.”

And you do. You lean in, body on his chest, your head tucked against his shoulder. His lips pressing against your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. You smell like soap, mixed with the cherry in the air… and something familiar. Him. His scent encapsulates you and it’s different when mixed with yours. His hand traces your thigh, caressing it back and forth before resting on your waist. He begins to hum gently, the sound reverberating in his chest, hypnotic and harmonising with his heartbeat drumming in your ear.

“Cold?” He queries.

You shake your head before asking him. Your request was simple. A little something he’d always done for you before.

“Read to me.”

He doesn’t pick up the book, but he reaches for the wine. A little sip to quench his thirst before beginning his story. Thunder breaking outside before the glass hits the tabletop.

”Are you comfortable?” He queries, to which you hum in agreement.

“Then, let me begin…”

“Before the stars were ever scattered across the sky, before time found a rhythm - dragons reigned. Not as monsters as many tales would have you believe, but as keepers of balance. Flame, Storm, Sea, Stone, Time, Earth… and Heart.”

“But the dragon of heart was unlike the others…”

He tells the story from his own mind. Like it’s a story he’s told many times before. Slowly. Intimately. Making every syllable have weight, as if each word might scar the air.

“He was born between two worlds—half man, half beast. Too soft for war. Too jagged for peace. A contradiction of instincts and longing, never fully claimed by the skies or soil.”

“He didn’t belong to the heavens, nor the human world.”

“He belonged to her.”

You shift in his lap, quietly, but he feels it. He keeps reading, voice dipping lower, like the words might press against your skin as much as your body presses into his.

“He didn’t guard treasure. He didn’t hoard gold. He didn’t seek conquest or battles. He treasured her.”

“He fell in love. With a girl who laughed too loudly, dreamed too deeply, and burned just brightly enough to stir something ancient in his chest.”

“He guarded the sound of her laugh. He hoarded every glance she spared him. He sought the warmth of her fingertips in the dark. The press of her lips to the scales he once tried to hide. The gentle grace to the horns he tried to cut away. The way she saw him and did not flinch.”

“She wasn’t soft. She was untamed and defiant. She’d braid flowers into his hair with clumsy fingers. She called him ‘hers’. Not with commands. Not with fear. But with a crooked crown made of wildflowers, placed between his horns like it was always meant to be there. With enchanting songs beneath the moon, and whispered promises. That was all it took.”

““Now you’re mine,” she said, tying the last stem.”

“And he smiled. Because no treasure had ever felt that sacred.”

Sylus pauses. Not because the words escape him. But because they don’t.

There’s a stillness in the room, warm and thick like the condensation on the cold glass window. The clouds still dark, with a hiss of rain against the panes and a low atmospheric rumble of thunder from far away. Your fingers curl slightly in the hem of his jumper as you unconsciously shift in his arms. Reactively, his thumb draws a lazy, grounding circle against your waist. He’s still with you, but when he begins to read again, his voice has changed. Quieter. Softer.

“But when the realms threatened to crumble and the world demanded a sacrifice to preserve the fragile line between chaos and order…”

The fire interrupts with a crackle and hiss.

“…He didn't hesitate.”

““Seal me away,” he said. “But let her live. Let her run wild. Let her forget… until it’s time to remember.””

Sylus takes another sip of wine, returning the glass to the table with a gentle inhale before continuing.

“And so, the dragon slept. Beneath roots, beneath silence, beneath centuries. Not because he needed to. But because he chose to wait.”

“For her.”

“And wait… he did.”

Literally. Inhaling deeply before letting the story flow from his lips like honey.

“The world turned. The skies grew heavier. Seasons began to forget themselves. He drifted through lifetimes, unaging, unbreaking, unseen. He watched empires rise and fall. Watched lovers kiss and part. Watched petals fall, again and again, without meaning.”

“But he never chased. Never begged the wind to bring her back. He simply waited. He stayed. A shape beneath the trees. A shadow that outlasted its name. Not stone. Not legend. No roar. No fire. Just stillness.”

“The faint scent of wildflowers carried on the wind from time to time. Nothing more. But it was enough.”

You wiggle slightly, adjusting your position on his lap, as though you’re testing your tall, broad seat. Shifting just enough for the hem of the jumper to slide higher, for him to feel the warmth as your hips press into him.

Sylus’ hand tightens at your waist instinctively. Not roughly, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

“Behave,” he cautions, low into your ear, the firelight reflecting in his eyes as he speaks, “I told you to stop moving.”

You just smirk. Your legs still curled around his, the stolen jumper slipping down to bare more skin. A temptation to him. You can see it in the way his eyes roam over your frame.

Yet, he resists and stays very still. Being an exceptional chair, just for you. Taking another sip of wine while throwing you a gaze of caution.

"Shall I continue?”

His smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, smirking before he starts to recite again.

“Years passed. Worlds shifted. And then, one day, the petals returned.”

“The wind carried a scent he’d never forgotten. Clinging to the breeze like breath on a mirror. Wildflowers, sun warmed and hopeful, tangled with something dangerous. A honey-laced sweetness mixed with a narcotic. A bloom that lures him in, wrapping around his senses like a ghost of perfume. And then, laughter. Soft yet distant. Ringing like silver bells in dark water. Not a sound, but a memory.”

“And something inside the dragon stirred. A long silence. Starved from a hunger that has lasted centuries. Awaking him from his patient slumber.”

“A memory of a name. Whispered like a prayer through clenched teeth.”

Sylus lingers a moment. Just for a breath. Like the following words are more than just a story he’s retelling. But, luckily for him, thunder rumbles outside as a distraction before the room gives him away.

“But she didn’t remember him.”

“She pushed him. Tested him. Despised him… hated him, in fact.”

Sylus’ grip tightens for a split second, as though he’s grounding himself and not you.

“And he let her.”

“Every bite of her words. Every flinch. Every narrowed glance like he was something to be eliminated. He took it. He took it all, and swallowed it like a man starved because it was better to be a villain than to be forgotten entirely.”

“She was oblivious to everything he gave up to wait for her. Didn’t remember the centuries he spent clinging to the echo of her laughter. Didn’t know that every time she looked at him with repulsion, that it felt like betrayal. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know.”

”And still, he loved her. In a way that burns from the inside out.”

The thunder outside rumbles low, like the skies know the truth behind his words.

“He longed for the day she’d look at him. Truly look. And see him instead of this monster that others had told her about.”

”Then, one day… the girl reached out to him.”

”Reaching out to him to steady herself in the dark. Just a hand resting against his chest. Unintentional and fleeting, but long enough to matter. Like she was trying to feel the heart she feared was still beating.”

Sylus pauses.

“He didn’t dare move. Because if he was to startle her, the moment would vanish. And he’d return to being nothing more than a monster to be avoided.”

“But she stayed. And he felt something shift. Not in her, but in him.”

”Hope. It clawed its way out of the place he buried it. But… for the first time, he didn’t hurt from the ache. He ached with purpose.”

“And… overtime… she softened. Relied on him more, fulfilling his purpose. Allowing him to be the dragon of heart once more.”

”Her heartbeat synced with his. Her body curled into his shape. She teased him. Played with him. Even began to smell like him. And he felt it… it felt like recognition. And one day, she showed more care and affection than ever before. A glimpse of a fire from long ago.”

“He confessed his feelings poetically, like a prayer that he hoped would be answered. “The flower petals have carried you into this dragon’s dreams.””

Sylus presses a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair as you bury yourself into his chest. The wine forgotten. The fire crackling low. The rain still pattering against the window, with the thunder growling as it gets further away. The night settling in.

Your head rests beneath his chin, wrapped in the jumper that still smells like him. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it's the sound of the rain. Or the heat from the fire. Or more likely, it’s the wine. But this moment pauses for what feels like both years and seconds. There’s just something in the air that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Where did you hear that story?” You mumble drowsily, already feeling the effects of the day.

Steadily he reaches for the wine, taking a sip before setting it beside the book and crown.

“Just a myth I read, kitten.” he murmurs while pressing his lips to your hair once more.

And you let out a sigh, giving away your fatigue.

He holds you tighter, pulling you into his chest. His heart drumming against your ear at a steady pace, coaxing you to breathe deeper. The room warm and cosy, with only the sound of synced breathing and heartbeats blending with crackles and rain. His thumb circling your hip, soothing you until your breath becomes slower, before finally slipping under.

“Did you fall asleep?” Sylus whispers, tilting his head to try and peek at your face. His fingers coming up to tuck stray hair behind your ears. A contented sigh escaping his lips as he takes you in.

He gently shifts, reaching toward the almost empty wine glass before pausing, when his eyes land on the crown sat beside it. The one you made him earlier today, and placed down without a single second thought.

A smile pulling on his lips and his eyes softening at the simple gesture. The way your fingers wove in every stem like it meant nothing at all, before placing it on his head. The gesture enough to completely unravel him.

He admires it for a moment. The ways the stems twist, like they're inseparable. He places it on his head, before picking up the wine glass. Whispering the end of story to an audience that’s already drifted off.

““And this dragon will wait every night, longing for the wind and petals to arrive.” He promised. Knowing that she didn’t remember anything, yet hopeful. Hopeful that one day, she’d remember the songs she used to sing. The wildflowers that she’d thread into his hair. The horns that used to bear the crowns she’d make.”

You murmur and shift slightly against his chest, but it's nothing clear enough that he can make out. Reactively he holds you a little tighter, while finishing the wine.

He whispers, barely audible.

“Because, once upon a time, I wore one like this before. When the world was younger. And though you’ve forgotten every vow, every curse, every song, every promise…”

His eyes falling on you one more time.

“… I haven’t.”

FanFic MasterList Here

This story belongs to ©Sylusslittlekitten

Creative Commons Licenses