#from.love and deepspace

[itadores]

let's ride!

note: he's plaguing me

pairing: sylus x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

tags: gender neutral reader, reader is not mc, pre-relationship

"You have to be kidding me," you say, stopping right in your tracks. The sight laid out before has you going still.

Sylus raises a brow.

“Were you expecting something different?” he asks, looking back at you from where he stands a few steps ahead on the sidewalk. The glint in his crimson eyes betrays the fact he already knows your answer.

"When you offered me a ride, I assumed that you'd be picking me up in a car." You wave a hand, motioning to the vehicle that Sylus has parked on the side of the road. "Not a motorcycle."

"Don't tell me you're afraid?"

It's an obvious provocation. One that you shouldn't rise to.

"I'm not afraid," you scoff, the words falling from your tongue almost instinctively. You childishly cross your arms, well aware of how petulant you look. "I just wasn't expecting it. Do you even an extra helmet?"

"Catch."

You barely have any time to process what Sylus has said before you're fumbling to catch the motorcycle helmet that he's tossed at you. Once you're sure that it's secure in your grasp, you look up at Sylus and shoot him a glare. "A little more of a warning would have been nice. What if I had dropped it?"

He laughs. "A little scratch won't hurt it. Besides, I could just buy another one."

You roll your eyes as you take the few steps down the sidewalk necessary to be next to Sylus. "You and your infinite amount of money," you dryly comment before looking down at the helmet in your hands. Your nerves spike slightly. "I've, uh, I've actually never been on a motorcycle before."

"Oh?"

A flicker of surprise crosses Sylus' face but it doesn't linger long.

"Really?"

The smugness in Sylus' voice squashes any and all requests for assistance you may have had.

"Really," you grumble, pulling the helmet firmly down onto your head. The helmet is awfully snug, but not uncomfortable. It's actually surprising how well it fits you.

You nearly flinch when Sylus suddenly enters into your space.

“Tilt your head back.”

The retort of Why should I lies on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it down (for once) and do what Sylus asks of you. You lean your head back, eyes falling onto the man in front of you. Sunlight casts shadows across the planes of his face, emphasizing the sharpness of his features and setting his ruby red eyes alight. The thought that he looks handsome crosses your mind fleetingly.

You go eeriely still when his fingers skirt across the underside of your chin, pulse quickening as the rough pads of his fingertips graze the delicate skin of your throat. Carefully, Sylus buckles your helmet’s chin strap with a gentleness that’s unexpected from the fearsome leader of Onychinus.

“Can’t have you getting hurt on your first ride now, can we?”

His eyes flicker up to meet your own, causing you to avert your gaze. Sometimes, it slips your mind how intense it can be to have Sylus' attention solely on you.

"I could have done that myself," you mumble, thumbing at the strap below your chin. You tug on the thick fabric, fingers fiddling with it.

"You could have," Sylus concedes. He rubs his thumb against his forefinger in that familiar manner of his before looking at you once more. "But I wanted to do it for you. Is that so wrong?" he coos, tone teasing and grin bordering on sharp.

"You're the worst,” you sigh, brushing off the warmth laced within Sylus’ words. You chalk it up to him being his usual flirtatious self. You motion towards the motorcycle. “Who gets on first?”

Before Sylus can get a word in, you narrow your eyes at him. “And I can get on by myself.”

“So feisty,” he murmurs, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. amusement clear as day on his face. “Like this you resemble an angry chipmunk.”

You pout at that, which probably doesn’t help your case. It's not like it's your fault that the motorcycle helmet rests snugly on your head, the padding within its interior squishing your cheeks.

Sylus laughs though refrains from making any further comments. “I’ll get on first so it’s easier for you to get on after,” he says as he smoothly slips his own helmet on.

You idly stand by on the sidewalk, watching how Sylus mounts his motorbike so you can mimic him when it’s your turn to do the same. His movements are fluid as he swings his leg over the body of it and lowers himself down onto the smooth leather material of its cushion.

“Your turn,” he says, beckoning you closer by patting the seat behind him.

Although you were closely observing Sylus' movements, by the time you cross the short distance to make it to his side, you're still unsure of how exactly to get onto the motorcycle. You can't exactly steady yourself by holding onto the handlebars like Sylus did.

"Put your hand on my shoulder."

"What?" you say, startled out of your thoughts.

"How else do you plan on getting on?"

Sylus cocks his head at you, raising a brow as you try to think of an alternative. You sigh when your brain fails to produce anything. Lightly, you place your hand onto his shoulder. His customary black leather jacket is smooth beneath your touch.

"Now swing your leg over."

You use Sylus as an anchor, palm pressing into the firm muscles of his shoulder as you clamor onto the motorcycle, not nearly as graceful as him but at least you've made it on. Once you're sure that you're not at risk of somehow toppling off, the first thing you take notice of is how close you are to Sylus. Your knees rest on either side of his waist, your chest nearly pressed against the expanse of his back. You've been near Sylus before, but never like this. You scooch backwards and try to put as much space as you can between the two of you.

Sylus glances back at you. "I don't bite. No need to put so much distance between us," he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," you deadpan, which draws a bark of laughter from him.

"Is that so?" Sylus' eyes darken a touch. You have no time to try and decipher what it means before he blinks and it's gone, replaced by amusement. "You might fall off if you don't hold on tight."

"I'll be fine like this," you say. You look down at the motorcycle and wrap your hands around the grab bars.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs his shoulders before turning forward once more. The motorcycle roars to life, steadily thrumming beneath you. Sylus nudges the kickstand up with his foot. You tighten your hold on the grab bars as the motorcycle shifts slightly as Sylus prepares to pull away from the curb.

A loud squeal escapes you as the motorcycle starts moving much faster than you anticipated. Your grip around the grab bars slackens in your shock, and you press yourself closer to Sylus, arms tightly wrapping around his torso, before you can reconsider your actions.

"You really are the worst, Sylus!" you shout over the wind that rushes around you as Sylus continues picking up speed. Your heart is hammering so loud in your chest after the stunt he pulled that you're sure he can feel it with the way your chest is pressed firmly against his back.

In response, Sylus accelerates more, eliciting a shriek from you. The buildings around you start to blur together, and the wind bites into any sliver of skin you have exposed. You're going so fast that you're confident that Sylus is breaking every speed limit there is in Linkon City. But you don't dwell on that thought for long.

Your initial nerves transform into giddiness as you slowly grow more comfortable with the sensation of riding on a motorcycle. There's something surprisingly exhilarating about going at such a high speed. You poke your head from around Sylus' body, a wild grin spread onto your cheeks. His eyes flicker from the road to you for a brief moment.

“Having fun?”

You lean in closer to him to be heard over the whipping winds. “Yeah!” you say earnestly, cheeks aching from smiling.

You don't have a smart remark or a quick-witted quip at the ready like you usually do. For as much as you bicker with Sylus, you do actually enjoy his company and you appreciate him going out of his way to give you a ride, even if it's not exactly what you had envisioned.

"Thanks again for the ride Sylus."

Out of the corner of your eyes, you catch a glimpse of Sylus smiling. Not as sharp or as teasing as his usual ones. It's a little softer around the edges. Genuine.

"Anytime."

[itadores]

tags: gender neutral reader, vampire au, blood

newly turned vampire reader who refuses to feed once you’re brought back to life because you don’t want to hurt anyone :( sylus offers himself up to you for you to feed from him but you stubbornly turn him down because you especially don’t want to cause any harm to sylus of all people. you’d never forgive yourself. but your situation gets increasingly dire and sylus can’t stand watching you wither away when there’s something he can do about it. so he decides to force your hand and barges into the room you’ve holed yourself up in and slices his palm open before you can even yell at him to leave you be.

the metallic tang of fresh blood fills your nostrils and immediately floods your mouth with saliva. your protests about sylus’ presence in your room quickly die out as you grapple with the last threads of your self control.

“what are you waiting for? go on. take your fill.”

sylus sways his hand slightly, beckoning you closer. your gaze is transfixed on the drop of blood that drips down the side of his hand, landing on the ground in a small splatter. your fangs dig into the plush of your bottom lip and you have to swallow the saliva that’s pooling in your mouth before it can leak down your chin.

you pull your gaze away from his hand to find sylus’ eyes already on you. there is no discomfort or uneasiness to be found in sylus’ expression or demeanor - only a look of expectancy, accentuated by the raise of one of his brows when he sees you searching his face.

your hunger gnaws and gnaws at you and unable to find a trace of apprehension in sylus, your self control completely and finally unravels. you move across the room in a blur, still unused to your newfound speed and nearly topple sylus and yourself over. he grunts upon the sudden impact but manages to remain upright.

there is no room for embarrassment as you feed for the first time since turning. you noisily slurp up the blood from sylus' open wound, quite literally eating out of the palm of his hand. you don't know how long you stay in that position, on your knees, holding sylus' forearm captive in a bruising grip as you eat and eat and eat.

it's only when hunger no claws at your insides that you peer up at sylus through lidded eyes.

“thanks,” you croak - voice rusty from disuse. unable to help yourself, you run your tongue over the lines of his palm once more to lap up any remaining blood before licking your saliva-slick lips.

"full now?" sylus turns his hand, and you lean your cheek into his palm, uncaring of the sticky mess you've made. his thumb brushes against your cheekbone, smearing the mix of blood and saliva that coats your skin.

you hum, the sound akin to a purr.

"yeah." you turn your head to the side, your lips brushing against the center of sylus' palm, along the jagged line of the cut he inflicted upon himself for your sake. an unspoken apology. "thank you, sylus."

his thumb makes another pass over your cheekbone, sweeping away your apology - wholly unneeded and unnecessary in his mind. you clutch at his hand against your face, holding onto sylus as if he's your lifeline.

and maybe now he is.

[itadores]

note: hi friends <3 l&ds has me in a chokehold rn

pairing: zayne x gn!reader

word count: 1k

tags: gender neutral reader, alcohol / alcohol intoxication, reader can fit into zayne’s coat, reader isn't explicitly mc

You exit the nightclub with a stumble. Goosebumps erupt all over your exposed skin, but the cool air is a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of the crowd of sweaty bodies that you've just escaped. You suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, and bask in the sensation of the crisp air against your heated skin. As much as clubbing with your friends is a fun affair, it feels nice to be free from the lively environment. The chatter of your friends nearby prompts you to open your eyes once more.

"It's so cold out," one of your friends complains, louder than necessary due to the alcohol in her system. Her arms are tightly folded across her body as she shivers. She murmurs her thanks to one of your other friends as they take it upon themselves to rub their hands up and down her bare arms to create some warmth. Her attention then turns to you. "Is your boyfriend here yet?" she whines.

"Hold on, let me see where he is." You slip your phone out of your pocket, checking to see if you've received any new messages. It takes you a moment to register what the words swimming on the screen are saying as you read over the latest text you’ve gotten from your boyfriend. You send a quick and hopefully coherent reply back to him before you put your phone back in its place. "He should be here any minute now. Let's go wait by the curb, so he can see us."

Your friends follow you like ducklings as you weave your way through the groups of people standing around and conversing outside the nightclub, leading them towards the edge of the sidewalk by the road to wait. Your eyes scan the street, waiting for the sight of a familiar car to enter your view. When it inevitably does, you perk up immediately.

"He's here!"

Zayne pulls right up to the curb next to you, putting the car in park but leaving it running before he gets out to join you and your gaggle of friends on the sidewalk.

"Hi Zaynie."

A weight suddenly eases onto your shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold wearing just that," Zayne says in lieu of a greeting.

"I'm not that cold," you protest, pouting, but you clumsily slip your arms through the sleeves of his coat anyways.

You truly aren’t that cold, the liquor in your system doing more than enough to keep you warm, but you know that Zayne won’t let you refuse him, especially if you were to provide him with that as your excuse. Besides, Zayne's coat is much too comfortable to turn down. You bring the collar up to your nose and inhale, the familiar scent of Zayne’s cologne washing over you.

Zayne exchanges brief pleasantries with your friends before opening the car door to the backseat, allowing them to clamor inside his vehicle. He gently closes the door once he's sure they're all safely inside and then moves to open the door to the passenger seat for you.

Zayne pauses when you place your hand over the back of his, which rests on the door handle of the car.

"Thanks for picking us up again, Zayne. I know you must be really tired after such a busy week at the hospital and I know they," you toss a sideways glance at your rowdy friends in the car, who can easily be heard from outside of the car despite the windows being all the way up, "can be a lot sometimes, especially when they're drunk."

You turn your attention back to Zayne.

"I'm also drunk," you say as if it's not so incredibly apparent. It feels necessary for you tell him.

"I know," Zayne says. A small smile rests on his lips. He takes his hand off the door handle and flips his palm over to press against yours, holding your hand loosely. "I would not have offered to pick you and your friends up if I was unwilling to do so." He squeezes your hand gently. "What's most important is that you all enjoyed yourselves."

You pull your clasped hands closer to you as you lean the upper half of your body against Zayne’s side. "I had fun, but I'm glad to be here with you," you say, resting your chin against his arm as you peer up at him, your eyelids heavy. “I missed you.”

“How honest of you,” Zayne dryly remarks, though the warmth of his gaze betrays his fondness. He leans down and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead. “I missed you as well,” he murmurs against your skin. You lean further into Zayne’s touch, eyes slipping closed in contentment.

However, that all shatters soon enough.

“Let’s go, lovebirds!” your friends shout, sticking their heads out of the now fully rolled down backseat window. They motion for you to get in the car.

You loudly groan, pressing your forehead into Zayne’s shoulder. “If we ignore them, you think they’ll go away?” you mumble.

“Hey, we heard that!”

Zayne gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get your friends home safely and then we can go home ourselves. I picked up food earlier this evening from that place you like to frequent. I can reheat it for you when we get back.” Zayne lets go of your hand and opens the passenger door for you.

“I love you so much. You’re the best, thank you,” you say, giving Zayne a kiss on the cheek before you climb inside the car with his assistance.

“Of course.”

Zayne closes the door once he’s sure you’re completely inside the vehicle. He observes the way you immediately turn in your seat to face your friends in the back row, quietly chuckling to himself as you do your best to shut down their teasing about how lovesick you are for him.

Zayne walks around to the driver’s side of his car, placing his hand on the handle. If only your friends knew the truth. If they were aware of the depth of the love and care he feels towards you, they would surely be calling him lovesick as well. Perhaps, they already have an idea of the strength of his affections for you. After all, he’s not willing to play chauffeur for people around Linkon City at the request of just anybody.