soft-sylus

[soft-sylus]

Sinéad O'Connor, from her book titled "Rememberings," originally published in June 2021

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter: 12

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 1k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

The room was quiet.

Afternoon light spilled in through the window, warming the wood floor and casting long bars of shadow across the bed. Outside, the faint hum of the city carried through the glass: distant traffic, a siren. Inside, Mai moved with purpose, folding clothes into a canvas bag. Her hands were careful. Efficient. She hadn’t spoken since he stepped in.

Sylus leaned against the doorway, watching her. He didn’t ask why she was packing.

“You guys need to leave, Sy,” Mai said without looking at him. Her fingers moved with mechanical precision as she zipped one side of the bag. “For safety… and for her.”

“She doesn’t need to hide,” Sylus said, standing a few feet away, arms crossed. “I can protect her. Us.”

Mai zipped too fast. The sound was sharp. “She needs to go away, Sylus. You saw her in there. She’s breaking down.”

He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched. The ache in his chest was familiar these days, slow and spreading.

Mai looked up at him then, softer. “And so are you.”

“I need to hide?” he tried, aiming for a smile that didn’t quite reach. “That’s new.”

She didn’t bite. “Ever since Luke got sick, we’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

He watched her move through the room again, folding with more care now, more thought. “You’re not packing for the trip,” he stated.

She straightened and turned fully toward him. “I have to try to save Linkon. I have to warn them.”

“No one else can do it? Always you?”

“What are you implying?”

He stepped closer, reaching gently for her wrist. His voice dropped to a hush. “Stay.” His thumb brushed against the inside of her arm. “Help me fix the things we’ve broken. I’ll help you save Linkon. Just ask.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable, like she was trying to memorize the lines of his face. The quiet between them stretched, heavy with all the things neither of them had said. For a heartbeat, he thought she might finally speak the words he had been holding out for, the ones he hadn’t dared to ask for. But instead, her fingers shifted in his grasp. The warmth of her skin slipped from his hand, and the space between them settled.

“Something’s wrong with us, Sy,” she said quietly. “We need space. Our relationship… it’s been nothing but destructive. To everyone. To each other. And I,” a pause. “I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be.”

“I don’t need anyone but you, Mai.”

“You do,” she said. Her voice was so gentle it almost didn’t sound like her. “You don’t think you’ve changed, but you have. She’s…” Her throat bobbed. “Just give us some space, Sylus. Let me visit you. Get Leilah into physical therapy. Let the twins be teenagers. Take time for yourself.”

She turned away, swinging her bag over her shoulder. Her hand paused on the doorframe.

“I’ll reach out once I know more,” she said, barely above a whisper.

The door clicked softly behind her.

—-

The wind rolled off the ocean in slow, heavy breaths, tossing Leilah’s hair as the car crunched up the gravel drive. Sunlight glinted off the waves behind them, the tide shifting in the distance like a slow, steady exhale.

The house was smaller than their base back in the city. One story, pale wood, with big windows that caught the afternoon light. It sat tucked into a gentle rise above the shore, its porch shaded by a few trees bent inland from years of sea wind.

There were horses grazing near the fence line - three of them, all dappled and slow-moving, their manes tangled in the breeze. Beyond them, a weathered barn leaned into the hillside, flanked by a stack of hay bales and a fenced corral. Someone had left a saddle out on the gate post, like they’d just come in from a ride. Leilah stepped out and squinted into the wind.

The twins were already halfway to the porch, dragging bags and shouting about who called dibs on the room with the ocean view.

“I’ll take Leilah’s stuff!” Luke yelled over his shoulder, waving off Sylus as he reached for her bag.

Sylus didn’t argue. He just watched as Luke hoisted it with a grunt and disappeared up the steps.

Leilah stepped forward and immediately looked where she always did. The kitchen.

She could see it from the porch, the corner of a countertop through the window, sunlight warming the pale tile and glinting off a metal kettle. There were open shelves and hanging racks of mugs. A sight that would usually warm her.

Her shoulder dropped slightly, and if Sylus noticed, he said nothing.

“Are you sure you need me here?” Leilah turned to Sylus, her hands lifting slightly as if to show him the bandages again. 

“You miss the N109?” He asked cockily. 

She tried to smile before her lips fell again “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, Leilah. I am aware you can’t cook. But none of us are working now. The boys and I may go on a small mission here or there, but I would like to avoid that and just take it slow.”

“It feels like… your doing all this for me,” she asked quietly.

He watched her for a moment. “That is partially it. They have one of the best physical therapy centers around. But I realize now, you were right about the twins. They're young. They need to experience something other than the dredges of the N109. And…” He thought for a moment. “I need time to think.”

She only nodded and looked around the room. “This looks different than your usual design tastes. Will you miss your gun wall?” she tried.

His signature smirk played on his face. “I’ll survive.”

He smiled before picking up his bags again and looking at her. “Regardless, there are books in the cellar along with my wine collection. Take what you like. Your bedroom is the second on the left, the boys already know. And as for the inevitable question, yes you can pet the horses.”

Leilah nodded before heading straight to her room.

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter: 11

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 2.7k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

The ceiling lights flickered. Too white. Too quiet.

Leilah stood in a room she half-recognized: glass walls stretching high, shadows bending sharp angles across the floor. The hum of servers pulsed through the walls. A screen blinked, soft blue and waiting.

She didn’t remember walking in.

A woman’s voice, close but hollow:

“Sit, Leilah. Watch. This is where real power begins.”

Fingers moved across a panel. Files opened—blurred maps, numbers, something about districts and gates. She tried to focus, but the labels slipped through her like water.

Her own voice, uncertain:

“What am I looking at?”

Celeste’s silhouette turned just slightly, smile audible in her tone.

“Insurance.”

A document flickered open, momentarily sharp.

“Gate 14: Wanderer Ingress. Cleared: 03:40.”

“Media alert suppression confirmed.”

“Public sentiment: fear level optimal.”

Leilah’s breath caught. She tried to move, but her limbs were slow, heavy. Her hands were covered in something. Not blood. Just ink. Spilled across documents she didn’t remember signing.

A whisper, not spoken aloud:

You signed it. You sat beside her. You helped.

The room tilted.

She turned her head. Through the glass, Linkon burned in the distance. Tiny explosions along the edge of the city. Like fireflies. Like rot.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came.

Then:

“You’re going to be my legacy, Leilah.”

The room grew colder. The lights dimmed.

The screen flashed one last time.

CONFIRMED: WANDERER ACCESS – AUTH CEL AUREN

And in the silence that followed, Leilah whispered:

“I didn’t know.”

But the room didn’t care.

She woke.

—

It took her two days to speak, and another to tell the truth.

Now she sat at the kitchen table, hands folded in her lap. The light above hummed faintly. Outside, the city was still.

“I grew up with my dad,” she said quietly. “Just him, mostly. We lived in Linkon, in a small house on the edge of the suburbs. He was a musician. Kind. The kind of man who played piano while the coffee brewed, just soft little things he made up on the spot.”

She paused, her eyes unfocused, mouth twitching at the corners.

A silence settled. No one moved.

“He stayed home with me. Always.”

Her voice was steady, but low. “He did everything—meals, school drop-offs, birthday cakes.”

She traced her thumb along the edge of the table.

“Our house was small but warm. Quiet. Paid for by my mother, technically. But she never lived there. She was… somewhere else. Across the city, I think. We didn’t talk about it.”

A breath caught in her chest.

“I adored him,” she said softly. “I trusted him with everything. He was my whole world.”

Then, more quietly, “But I didn’t want to be like him.”

She looked up. “I wanted to be her.”

“Whenever she visited, it was like the whole house held its breath.”

Leilah’s fingers curled slightly around the edge of her chair. “She came in heels, always. Left the smell of perfume and cold air behind her.”

“She barely looked at me. But I didn’t care. I was obsessed.”

Her voice turned quieter, almost ashamed.

“She’d say a handful of things—compliments for my dad, instructions for the week—and maybe one or two words to me. I’d write them down. Every single one. Tucked them into my diary like they were scripture.”

She blinked hard, her gaze unfocused.

“I used to stay up late just to watch her on TV. She was always giving speeches, walking through hospitals, standing with city officials. Dad would ask me to turn it off, but after he went to bed, I’d sneak back and rewatch it all. I even took notes.”

A shaky breath.

“I didn’t just want her to see me. I wanted to become her.”

“I knew from the start I was supposed to cook,” she said. “I felt it. In my hands, in my head. Like it was stitched into me.”

Her eyes lowered.

“But she hated it. Said it was a waste. Said I was meant for more.”

A bitter smile flickered at her mouth, then faded.

“So I tried to be more. I copied her walk. Her voice. Practiced her smile in the mirror until it felt like mine. I got perfect grades, took leadership roles, filled every hour with something useful.”

She paused, fingers brushing crumbs across the table.

“It was like I was building a resume for a job that didn’t exist. Trying to earn a place in her world. I thought if I was perfect enough, maybe she’d notice me.”

A small breath.

“She wasn’t there. But I lived like she was watching.”

“She built an empire out of nothing,” Leilah said quietly. “People worship her. Call her a visionary. A healer. The woman who’ll save Linkon.”

Her eyes drifted toward them.

“You know her,” she said. “Celeste Auren.”

Mai blinked. Her head tilted, unsure—until the name landed. Then she straightened like she’d been struck.

“Wait. No—Celeste Auren? Heliox Pharmaceuticals?”

Leilah didn’t answer, just watched her.

Mai leaned forward, voice picking up speed. “She’s on every channel. Owns half the city’s hospitals. My friend works at one—he thinks she’s a saint.”

Sylus’s voice cut in, lower. “She’s pushing for mayor now.”

Leilah gave a dry laugh. “Of course she is.”

Mai sat back slowly, still processing. “She’s your mother?”

A quiet nod.

“I still have her quotes saved on my phone,” Mai muttered, almost to herself. “God.”

Sylus didn’t speak. He just studied Leilah.

“After culinary school, I moved out. Got my own place. I was finally doing what I loved.”

She paused.

“My dad had already started getting sick. Just little things at first. I didn’t think it was serious. He didn’t tell me how bad it was.”

Her fingers curled slightly, restless.

“I visited as much as I could. But Celeste…”

She exhaled. “She hired specialists from across the region. The best money could buy. And then she emailed me.”

A bitter note entered her voice. “She said I’d just get in the way.”

The words lingered. Neither Mai nor Sylus interrupted.

“I didn’t understand how bad it was until the end. When I finally got the call to come. And by then…”

She didn’t finish.

Mai reached over, lightly touching her arm. “I’m sorry.”

Leilah gave a tired, crooked smile.

“When he died,” she said, “it was the only time I saw her cry. Not loudly. Just a couple tears. She was controlling even that.”

Her voice dropped.

“But I don’t think it was about him. I think she was afraid. Of dying like he did. Quiet. Human. Alone.”

“A few weeks after the funeral, she came to my restaurant.”

Leilah’s voice was distant, as if watching it play out from far away.

“She didn’t call. Just walked in, sat down, and asked for the house special. I adjusted the plate at least a dozen times before I sent it out.”

A ghost of a smile passed her lips. “She said it was perfect.”

“She started showing up more after that. Alone at first, then with colleagues. She even brought her board in for a lunch meeting once.”

Leilah swallowed.

“And then one day, she asked if I wanted to cook with her. At her house. Just the two of us.”

Her gaze dropped to the table. “I thought it meant something.”

“We went grocery shopping together. She let me pick the herbs. We laughed over which brand of butter was better. She told me stories I’d never heard before.”

A long breath.

“It was the best day we ever had.”

She let the silence stretch.

“Now, I can see it for what it was. She was drawing me in. Grooming me. But at the time…” Her voice thinned. “It felt like everything I ever wanted was finally happening.”

“I started working for her not long after the restaurant visits.”

Leilah’s voice was quieter now.

“She didn’t ask outright. Just dropped hints. Left openings. Like it was my idea.”

Her fingers traced a faint circle on the table.

“She took me to galas, boardrooms, press events. Said I had a gift. That I could read people the way she read markets.”

Leilah paused.

“I thought I was helping. I was proud of it. Proud of how quickly I picked things up. When to laugh. When to interrupt. When to say nothing at all. People stopped noticing me, and I made that my strength.”

“She’d glance at me during meetings, and I’d already have the answer ready. Or I’d say something funny just before her temper turned sharp. She never thanked me. But sometimes she’d smile. And that was enough.”

Another silence.

“I let parts of myself go, one at a time. The loud ones. The soft ones. Anything that didn’t fit.”

“It wasn’t until later that she started pulling back the curtain.”

Leilah’s eyes didn’t move from the table.

“She let me see how things really worked. The city council dinners, the private meetings with contractors, the encrypted files. She didn’t explain much—just watched to see what I understood.”

“I saw how she moved people like pieces on a board. One call here, one rumor there, and everything shifted. She didn’t need to threaten. Just… imply.”

“And she kept files. On everyone.”

Mai’s brows pulled together. “Files?”

“Officials. Investors. Rivals. Friends. Staff. She tracked everything—who they were sleeping with, what they spent money on, the names of their kids, where they traveled, what made them angry.”

Leilah’s hands pressed together in front of her.

“She said it was about preparedness. That if you knew enough about a person, you’d never be caught off guard.”

Mai leaned back slightly, uneasy.

“I didn’t question it. Not at first. It felt like strategy. Like something powerful people just… did.” Leilah hesitated. “But after a while, I stopped believing she was doing it to protect anything.”

She looked at Mai.

“She wasn’t defending the city. She was keeping it on a leash.”

The words hung in the air. No one spoke.

Leilah glanced between them, then looked down. Her fingers curled slightly against her palm.

“There’s something else,” Leilah said. Her voice had changed. Heavier now. Slower. “You’ve seen the increase in Wanderers.”

Mai nodded, hesitant. “Yeah. It’s getting worse.”

Leilah looked down, then back up.

“On my last day working for her… she showed me.”

A pause.

“She opened the gates.”

Mai froze.

Leilah continued, quietly, “Heliox has been moving them into Linkon. Quietly. Strategically. Using back routes. They’re not slipping through—they’re being let in.”

Mai’s head shook, slow at first. “No. That doesn’t make sense. She’s everywhere, talking about reform, security—she’s been trying to protect the city.”

“She’s been crafting a story,” Sylus said, voice low. “And making sure she’s the hero at the center.”

Leilah gave a small nod. “She creates the danger. Then offers the cure.”

She looked at Mai.

“Who profits when people are terrified? When hospitals overflow and neighborhoods fall apart?”

Mai opened her mouth, but no words came.

Leilah whispered, “Her company.”

Mai leaned back, her voice barely above a breath. “One of my closest friends works at a Heliox hospital. He said things have been strange lately. More guards. More top-down orders. He thought it was just policy changes.”

Leilah stared at her own hands.

“I didn’t want to see it either. I kept telling myself it was strategy. That she had a plan, and I just didn’t understand it yet. That I was helping.”

She shook her head slightly.

“I found the bribes. The gate logs. And… other things,” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Mai looked at her, eyes tight. “And you stayed?”

A long pause.

“I did.” Leilah’s voice cracked just a little. “For too long. I told myself I was in too deep. That no one would believe me. Everyone around her was either loyal or afraid. And I…”

She drew in a breath.

“I was her daughter.”

Mai pushed back from the table, the chair scraping sharply against the floor. She paced, arms crossed, her whole body tense.

“So all this time,” she said, “the gates, the violence, the chaos out there—that was her?”

Leilah didn’t respond.

Mai turned, eyes locked on her. “And you helped her do it?”

Leilah didn’t flinch. “I did. I told myself it was harmless. That it wasn’t my place to ask questions,” She swallowed. “But I knew. I saw the patterns. I saw what it added up to. And I stayed.”

Mai’s voice rose. “You knew people were dying. That families were being torn apart. And you still stayed?”

“I didn’t know how to leave.” Leilah’s voice trembled. “She owned every piece of me. My job. My home. My name. I was part of the machine before I even realized it.”

Her bandaged hands curled painfully in her lap.

“And I wanted her to love me. I kept thinking… maybe if I worked hard enough, if I made her proud, she’d finally see me.”

The silence that followed was cold and long.

Mai looked away, jaw locked. “Some of the hunters who died were my friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Leilah’s voice was barely audible.

Mai stood there a moment longer. Then she gave a stiff nod, unreadable.

“I know. I don’t blame… I just need a minute,” she said. And walked out.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Leilah didn’t speak right away. When she did, her voice was smaller.

“I tried to tell people.” She glanced toward Sylus, then back down. “A journalist. A city rep. Even someone I knew from culinary school—his dad worked for the council.” Her hand moved slowly across the table’s edge, fingertips brushing nothing. “No one listened. Or maybe they did, and just didn’t want to get involved. I got brushed off. Smiled at. One of them even warned me to stop asking questions.”

She looked up, eyes tired.

“That’s when I knew. She didn’t just control the narrative—she controlled the people inside it.”

A breath passed between them.

“So I ran. To the only place I thought she wouldn’t follow.”

Sylus’s voice broke the silence. “The N109.”

Leilah nodded once.

“I didn’t know anyone. I was constantly looking over my shoulder. I barely slept.”

Her voice was thinner now.

“But at least no one there pretended to care. That was… easier, somehow.”

“And then I found Anthony Belmonte.”

Sylus’s brow lifted slightly. “I know him.” He leaned back a little. “Small-time gang leader. Mouth bigger than his territory. Picks fights he can’t win.”

Leilah gave a faint smile. “That’s him.”

“He was my first plan. I figured if I could make myself useful to someone like him, I’d be safer. Protected, at least for a while. And maybe… I’d stay small enough to avoid her radar.”

She paused.

“I cooked for him. Offered to help around his base. Smiled a lot. Kept my head down. He liked that. Thought I was harmless.”

Her fingers tapped the edge of the table, once.

“When he invited me to the auction, I thought I was finally in.”

She looked up at Sylus, meeting his eyes. “And you know how that night went.”

Sylus’s voice broke the quiet. “That’s how the boys found you?”

Leilah nodded. “Yeah.”

He leaned back a little, studying her.

“I know you came to them afterward. After the explosion. Why?”

She hesitated, then gave the truth. “You were the only one she warned me about.”

Sylus stilled.

“She told me to stay away from you. Said you were dangerous. Unpredictable.”

Leilah’s voice dropped. “That was the first time I saw her afraid.”

She looked up at him.

“So I figured… if I stayed close to you, I might finally be out of her reach.”

Her voice softened even more.

“I swallowed my pride. I went to Luke and Kieran. Told them I could cook. Said I needed a job.”

Sylus didn’t speak. His expression gave nothing away.

Then, after a long pause, he nodded once.

Leilah glanced at him. “Do I still have a job?”

He almost smiled, surprised. “If you want it, it’s yours. For good.”

He started to say more, then stopped himself.

She didn’t press.

The quiet between them no longer felt sharp. Just still.

Beyond the window, morning was starting to break. Faint light spilling gray over the kitchen floor.

Sylus stood. “Get some rest.”

Leilah didn’t argue. She watched him go, his steps soft down the hall.

Then, for a long moment, she sat there alone.

Her hands uncurled.

And finally, slowly, she stood.

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter: 10

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 1.3k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

The antiseptic stung worse than the burn.

Leilah didn’t flinch. Not once. The nurse said something about pain tolerance, maybe shock, but she barely registered it. 

No natural light made its way into the hospital room, only the big fluorescent lights that buzzed above her. Outside, rain began to tick against the window like it was counting something.

Kieran stood near the door, arms crossed, his face unreadable. Still in uniform, still silent. He hadn’t spoken since they got here.

The twins had arrived fast after Sylus called. They didn’t ask questions, just moved, clean and practiced, in perfect sync. They had the attacker secured within minutes. But their usual precision held a distinct edge. Luke's hands shook slightly when he saw Leilah’s burns. Kieran had gone still, his jaw tight, like he was holding something back.

They didn’t say much.

Just got her up. Got her out.

“Will she be able to cook?” Mai asked the doctor.

Don’t drown, Leilah thought.

Sylus stood near the wall, arms crossed, his posture carved from stone. He hadn't sat since they'd brought Leilah in. Mai leaned against the counter, speaking low to the nurse like the room couldn’t hear. Luke hovered nearby, shifting his weight, scanning Leilah every five seconds like it would fix her. Kieran watched her face carefully.

“With recent advancements in medicine, yes. She’ll need rest and physical therapy, but the damage is treatable. She should recover most, if not all, of her mobility.”

Leilah didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t leave the ceiling.

“Thank you,” Mai said.

When the doctor left, the room fell quiet. Only the soft hum of the monitors filled the space.

“I want him gone,” Sylus broke the silence. The boys immediately nodded at the command.

“Sylus, not now,” Mai looked at him.

“She’s strong enough.”

Leilah could see her father above her. Perhaps in the cracks of the ceiling. The outline of his jaw. The kindness in his eyes.

The rain would not stop coming.

“You agree, Mai?” Leilah’s voice came out weak.

“Yes,” she replied slowly.

Don’t drown.

“Of course,” Leilah said, never looking far from her father in the cracks. 

“He stalked you, broke into my base, and held you hostage,” Sylus listed. “That doesn’t end in a warning.”

“I suppose not.” The room blurred, but Leilah continued to breathe.

“You want him to live, Lei?” Luke asked timidly. Kieran eyes never left her.

She looked at Luke. “Yes.”

“He hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“Leilah,” Sylus sat down next to her. “I can’t let him get away with it. You’re important to us.”

“Now,” the word cracked in her mouth, a foreign sound. She would not look at Sylus.

“Now?”

“I’m important to you now,” she said. “I was no one then. I am not someone now just because you demand it.”

“What do you mean?” Mai asked.

Don’t drown

The edges of the room curled, her chest tightening.

“Please leave.”

No one moved. There was a deathly silence.

Kieran who had been watching her face, paled suddenly.

“Leilah…I remember you,” Kieran said. “That night, at the Auction? I thought… I thought I recognized you. In the beginning…

And just like that, his words triggered an explosion that she had prayed would stay in her past. But now she was reliving it: her fear, her battered body, the pain. 

Her breathing would not slow down.

“What are you talking about?” Sylus said sharply, looking at Leilah’s reaction.

Kieran looked sick. “That night. You brought Mai to the N109 zone for the gallery or party, or whatever. And it exploded. We came to clean up. And there was a survivor….”

Sylus looked at him. “What? There were no survivors.”

Luke looked like he saw a ghost. “There was, boss. Sh-she was bleeding everywhere and… covered in dust. She ran from us, and we called you. And you said…”

Leilah looked over at him, waiting for him to finish. The pain in her chest was choking her.

“You said… not to bother you when you were with Mai.”

Do not drown.

Leilah exhaled a sob, trying to find her dad in the ceiling again, but her vision was too blurry to make out anything.

“Is this true, Leilah?” Mai choked.

Breathebreathebreathebreathebreathebreathebreathe

“You took the emergency stairs to the roof,” she whispered. “And I was right there. Right below you. One flight of stairs below you. But… you never looked down.”

I am no one.

Mai’s face had gone white.

Sylus looked stunned. But no one moved.

They were all looking at her, and Leilah struggled to breathe. Her chest seized. She pressed a hand to it, fingers fumbling uselessly against the bandage.

You're drowning.

The monitor shrieked now, fast and sharp. Leilah leaned forward, trying to ground herself, but her limbs weren’t listening.

Her whole body was heat and ice and the walls wouldn’t stop closing in.

The door burst open.

“Everyone out,” the nurse snapped, already moving to her side. “Her heart rate’s spiking. She needs space. Now.”

Mai stepped back first, silent. Luke followed, throwing a last, worried look over his shoulder. Kieran hesitated. Sylus didn’t move.

“Out,” the nurse barked again.

Sylus met Leilah’s eyes. She couldn’t tell what he saw there, maybe he didn’t know either.

But he stepped away.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Leilah curled in on herself, slipping under the water.

No.

There had to be a mistake. Sylus had planned for everything down to the minute detail. Months in planning. No mistakes. He did not make mistakes. None. 

He ripped his thoughts from her shaking form as he left her room. He would not allow himself to think of it any longer. 

They’re all wrong. Another explosion had to have happened. Or she’s in shock. She was never there. I made sure of it.

And he had. He had worked it all out behind the scenes. Only the worst of the N109 crime bosses invited. He knew every person they brought as dates and knew their backgrounds extensively. He paid the staff to leave when he began to dance. Even the pianist had quietly slipped out the back as Sylus had switched out the grand piano for a recording.

No innocence lost. Never.

But the twins had elaborated outside of the hospital and Sylus could not stop himself from remembering her shaking form in the hospital.

I am not someone now just because you demand it.

It wasn’t true. It wasn’t

He had looked to Mai. His anchor in this raging storm, but she refused eye contact. Her eyes wide and shocked. Leaving him adrift.

He paced his room, the headache behind his eye so intense that he was surprised there was no blood. 

The twins had seen her. A ghost of a human, covered in dust and blood. Coming from the stairwell. But he had been right there, moments before. With Mai’s hand tightly in his.

One floor before you. But you wouldn’t look down.

He thought back to the auction. He had an eye on everything. Every guest in the room had been accounted for. 

He reached farther into his memory, to those corners he didn’t dare touch. His regrets. His pains.

And there he found her.

A girl in a dress. Standing beside a man who couldn’t stand her.

And Sylus did notice her. Pondered after her. He knew the man. But she was new information. An anomaly. A stressor to his perfect plan.

But then Mai came into the room, and he could think of nothing else. His eyes locked to her and would not let go.

Everything went to the wayside. Including Leilah. 

He had promised himself change.

But nothing had. Not really.

And now she was in that hospital bed, gasping for breath because of him.

Because he hadn’t looked down.

He pressed a hand to the wall, willing the thought to change. Willing her face to disappear from it.

It didn’t.

And when he closed his eyes, he saw what she might look like: dust in her hair, blood at her temple, looking up from the rubble like she was begging the world to see her.

And he hadn’t.

A failure all his own.

[soft-sylus]

Rachel Gillig, The Knight and the Moth

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter: 9

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 1.7k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

Sylus knew the moment she returned.

Mephisto caught Mai’s trail before she even crossed into the N109 Zone.

The chaos in his mind began to slow, a wild melody softening into something unfamiliar.

Five weeks.

And now she was walking back to him

With a grin on her face, apparently.

“He’s alive Sy! Caleb! I told you about him. My best friend from childhood. He never died, Sylus! The whole time he’s been alive!”

Sylus didn’t move from behind his desk. “You were gone for weeks.”

Mai unpacked her gym bag. “Yeah! I was undercover! I was getting the details I needed and then Caleb was there. At first, I thought he was someone else, but not long after he revealed himself.”

“So happy for you both,” he said. She finally looked up.

“Hey. Don’t be jealous,” she said, misinterpreting his anger. “I thought you would be happy to see me.”

“Happy to see you alive. Yes.” Sylus’ voice was low.

She put her hand on her hip. “Say what you want Sylus.”

“You disappeared without a word.”

“There was no time. I had to go quickly.”

“There was no time in five weeks?”

Mai’s jaw tightened. “Sylus, he was my best friend. My family. I thought he was gone forever and suddenly he was-” She exhaled. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think I had to ask for permission.”

“You didn’t.” He stepped around the desk. “But a message wouldn’t have killed you.”

“I was chasing something I thought I’d never see again,” she said.

Sylus’ orchestra was off. A missed note. A beat too late. He couldn’t find the downstroke.

The music no longer gravitated to her.

“I do understand,” he said. “But it’s not about him.”

“Then what is it?” She stepped toward him. “That I didn’t report in? That I didn’t stop to explain myself while I was trying to hold the world together?”

His eyes found hers. Still sharp. Still full of fire.

“You could’ve called.”

“I thought you’d know I’d come back,” she said. “You knew who I was when this started.”

A memory surfaced. Her in the passenger seat after a brutal wanderer fight, blood soaking through her ribs, breath coming in short, shaky pulls.

He hadn’t even realized he was gripping the wheel like it might save her. Terrified. Wordless.

She’d caught him staring. 

She said, voice paper-thin but firm.

“We’re warriors, Sylus. We don’t get to break. Keep driving.”

Not a plea. A command. The kind only she could give, even while bleeding out.

So he did. He swallowed the fear. Gripped the wheel harder. Built his walls higher. And he drove.

Because it was what needed to be done.

Because faltering wasn’t an option.

He watched her now.

Back then, they spoke the same language. Now her words sounded translated.

“I could help you, Kitten,” he said.

“You said you wanted someone who wouldn’t flinch,” she said. “Someone who’d walk into fire with you.”

“I did.”

Mai’s expression softened, almost sad. “Then let me walk into mine. Alone.”

The only person you can trust is yourself . The words echoed in his mind, an agreement made between them long ago, now ringing louder than ever.

But a smaller, gentler voice was there too.

You’ve grown , Leilah had told him.

Standing here, caught in this slow unraveling with Mai, he wasn’t sure.

Maybe he was holding her back.

Maybe the man he used to be would hate the one standing here now.

For a moment, he thought he might say something else. Might reach out.

Then a scream tore through the quiet, from the kitchen.

Both of them turned toward the hallway.

---

The carrot ginger soup had seemed like a good idea. Bright. Comforting. But now the scent of ginger made her chest tight.

The twins were still out on a mission, expected back before nightfall. Their absence hollowed out the apartment’s noise, especially with Mai now breezing past like nothing had happened.

“Smells great, Chef. Let’s catch up soon,” She smiled and winked at Leilah before heading straight to Sylus’ office.

Leilah had sat dumbstruck. Had she really been gone so long? And now she was back like nothing had changed. Like her absence hadn’t nearly become permanent, just as they all feared

Leilah stirred the broth absently, trying to capture any thought flying through her head.

How had Sylus felt when she walked through that door? If it was disorienting for her, it must have been twice as hard for him. Or perhaps he had been so relieved that he mirrored her smile. Perhaps he lifted her up and held her.

She should not care, but part of her hoped he didn’t. She hoped Mai walked right through those doors and saw Sylus weary eyes and thinning frame and felt something. Anything.

But Mai was the warrior that Linkon called for. That all of Deepspace called for. Perhaps she could not recognize the weaknesses that she would not allow herself.

Leilah worried for them, and in doing so, forgot to worry about herself.

Forgot to worry when the room got colder. 

Didn’t see the ice creeping up the walls. 

Only when she heard a crack behind her did she look up.

But by then, it was too late.

A mind-numbing cold hand clamped over her mouth. Another locked around her waist, dragging her back from the stove. It took her precious seconds to understand.

She thrashed, kicking wildly, but he was strong. Ice clung to his skin like armor, frost blooming up her arms wherever he touched her.

The sting of frostbite crawled beneath her skin.

They will not take me like this .

She shook her head violently. One of his fingers slipped between her teeth. She didn’t hesitate. She bit down hard.

Hot blood pooled in her mouth as he jerked back.

“Bitch.”

She screamed.

The sound tore through the house like a siren.

And as she called, the shadows answered.

Sylus and Mai stepped through the darkness, sharp and sudden.

Sylus’s evol struck like a whip, coiling around the man’s arms and yanking him back.

But he was faster than expected. He pulled Leilah in front of him like a shield, forcing Sylus to hesitate.

A jagged sheet of ice exploded from his palm and rocketed toward them.

Mai dove. Sylus flinched back.

And in that breath of distraction, the man slammed Leilah’s wrists to the counter. Ice locked her in place.

Leilah couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.

The man stayed close, too close. His back nearly brushing hers as he fought. Ice crept up the cabinets and countertop, anchoring them both in a frozen frame.

Every time Sylus moved, the attacker shifted to block him with Leilah’s body. Every time Mai advanced, he spun her direction with a flash of frost, forcing her back.

They couldn’t go full force. Not without risking her. And he knew it.

Sylus circled, fists clenched, his shadows twitching like they were hungry to strike.

Mai prowled opposite him, eyes locked on the target, waiting for an opening.

The masked man ducked low, sending a blast of ice toward Mai’s feet. She leapt clear but slipped on the half-frozen tile, catching herself just in time.

He lunged for Sylus, blade of frost forming in his hand. Sylus deflected with a dark tendril, then blocked a follow-up punch with his forearm. The impact echoed like cracking glass.

Mai dove back in, striking from the side. A flurry of jabs, too fast to track. He blocked one, took another to the ribs, then countered with a sharp elbow to her shoulder that sent her stumbling.

He was relentless. Efficient. Always angling himself so that Leilah stayed between them and their full strength.

Sylus threw another punch. Blocked.

Mai’s foot swung in low. Dodged.

A flick of the man’s hand and a blast of cold shot across the room, freezing part of the wall in jagged crystal.

They kept moving. They had no choice.

But he was too close to Leilah.

Leilah trembled, the cold burning deeper by the second.

Her hands were locked to the counter, fingers blue at the tips. She couldn’t feel them anymore. Could barely think. But she heard everything.

The crack of Sylus’ knuckles connecting. Mai’s breathless grunt after a hit—the hiss of ice and the sting of it in the air.

And still, the man kept his back to her. Using her. 

I am nothing , that old voice whispered in her ear.

She looked down.

The soup pot. Still boiling. Still near enough.

Her breath shook. Her arms wouldn’t move. But her mouth—

Leilah leaned forward, jaw clenched, and caught the handle of the pot between her teeth.

Her heart was hammering.

Sylus shouted. Shadows surged forward.

And she pulled.

The pot tipped. The soup poured over her wrists. The pain was immediate. Blinding.

She couldn’t even scream. Her mouth clamped shut so hard she thought her teeth might crack.

Tears spilled down her face. But she didn’t stop.

The ice hissed. Melted.

And suddenly, her hands were free.

She launched herself backward, rolling across the floor, out of the attacker’s reach. 

Sylus saw the opening and didn’t hesitate.

The shadow struck like a whip, coiling around the man’s arms and dragging him backward. Sylus stepped in, eyes dark, energy surging around his fists.

One solid hit. Brutal. Controlled. Final.

The shadows tangled his arms, dragging the man to his knees.

Mai was next to Leilah instantly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Leilah sobbed.

“Oh, Leilah,” Mai breathed, already checking her over. When she saw the burns, her expression twisted, and she turned sharply to Sylus.

There was something in his face that Leilah had never seen. Cold. Sealed shut. Not a trace of the softness she’d glimpsed before.

Sylus stepped toward the attacker.

And hit him.

Once.

The man’s head snapped to the side, blood trailing from his lip. Leilah felt the sound reverberate through her pained body.

“How did you find her?” Sylus asked, voice low and lethal.

No answer.

Sylus grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall.

“I asked how.”

Still silence.

He raised his fist again. Or maybe a shadow. He clenched with rage, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Who sent you?”

The man only smirked, bloodied and quiet.

Sylus moved to strike.

“Stop, Sylus! Please, stop!” Leilah’s voice cracked. Her whole body trembled.

“It was my mother. My mother sent him. Please, stop.”

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter: 8

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 2k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

Of course Sylus is Crow.

She should’ve guessed. The name was everywhere in the N109. Half legend, half cautionary tale. Underground fights. Whispered wins. A man who apparently hit like a truck and brooded like it was a competitive sport. It fit him perfectly.

Leilah had woken to a knock, sharp and insistent, dragging her out of a dream she didn’t care to remember.

Kieran had been in the hallway, practically glowing with smug energy. “Get up, Lei. You’re not gonna want to miss this.”

Now she was wedged between the twins in Sylus’ private movie theater, watching their boss take punches and wishing she’d figured it out sooner.

She was never interested in boxing, but everyone in the N109 knew there were underground matches, invite-only, brutal, and notorious. And everyone especially knew the name Crow, but she guessed very few knew that he also doubled as the leader of Onychious.

Sylus scanned the crowd, acknowledging the roaring fans with a confident nod. His eyes swept over the sea of faces before pausing. Then he mouthed something inaudible before his gaze locked onto the camera. He gave it that signature smirk, the one that always managed to get under Leilah’s skin but she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, a small smile playing at her lips.

Part of her wanted to scoff, dismissing this all as just one of Sylus’s power games. But when the camera caught his eyes, sharp and unblinking, a strange knot tightened in her chest.

The first round began.

Leilah leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers curled into the fabric of the couch. The screen flickered, casting sharp shadows across the room, each hit a harsh, electric pulse that seemed to sync with her heartbeat.

Sylus moved like a storm. His movements were quick, unpredictable, a force of nature in the ring. She hadn’t expected to feel this tightly wound, but every time his opponent’s glove came close, her breath caught, her pulse hitching in an uncomfortably personal way.

Kieran muttered something low, his eyes narrowed, tracking every shift, every feint. Luke’s knee bounced, a rapid, nervous rhythm against the floor.

Leilah’s breath caught as Sylus took a hit to the ribs. She felt it like a sharp twist in her own side, a fleeting, instinctive ache. She gritted her teeth.

Come on, Sylus.

The crowd on screen roared, a tidal wave of noise, and she could almost feel the vibrations through the thin apartment walls. She found herself leaning closer.

Then, something changed. Sylus’s stance tightened, his movements sharper, more precise. He slipped past a wild right cross, the shift in his footwork almost too subtle to catch.

Leilah’s heart skipped. The slight tilt of his head, the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, the glint in his eyes.

He had them.

A quick jab. A dodge. A brutal uppercut.

His opponent staggered, sweat flying, the camera catching the wild, desperate flash in the man’s eyes.

Then, with a final, vicious right cross, Sylus sent his opponent crashing into the ropes. The ref stepped in, arms wide, and the bell clanged through the arena.

When the final count was called, Sylus stood victorious. The living room erupted in cheers, and Leilah felt something unwind in her chest, the tension dissipating into a strange, unexpected warmth.

After the match, Sylus spoke briefly with the reporters, his expression composed but a hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

“What do you think was the key to winning this revenge match?”

“Someone came all the way here to watch me. She said she didn’t want to see me lose. So I won.”

As soon as the interview, Mai ran up from the crowd with a bouquet of flowers. 

With a gentle smile, he took the championship ring from his hand and slipped it onto her finger, a gesture that spoke volumes. They posed for a photo together, Mai holding the bouquet and Sylus placing a kiss on the side of her head.

Watching from the couch, Leilah felt a warm happiness swell in her chest. She didn’t quite understand why she felt so emotional, but she was genuinely happy for Sylus and Mai, and the bond they shared.

As the camera panned back to Sylus and Mai, they both looked directly into it and waved, as if acknowledging Leilah and the twins back home. It was a small gesture, but it made Leilah smile.

—

The glow from the screen faded into shadows, and with it, Mai

She had gone on a mission and hadn’t come back for weeks. It wasn’t unusual for her to disappear, but this long without a word was different. And it showed. Sylus, always composed, had an edge to him now. His orders snapped. His silences deepened.

The dried bouquet, once meant as a surprise for Mai, now sat tucked behind the liquor cabinet Sylus never neared. Leilah had moved it there on impulse, along with a dozen other small reminders, like she could hold back the tide of Mai’s absence with a little rearranging. But it did little to soften his temper.

If his anger had grown this sharp, he’d come up empty in his search. Even his creepy bird hadn’t found anything. Mai had wanted to disappear.

“ What? ” he snapped as Leilah entered his study, collecting yet another untouched tray of food. He’d stopped eating again, this time from worry.

She shrugged, stone-faced, setting the tray aside. She could feel his eyes on her, a silent demand for an answer.

“She’s busy, Leilah,” he said, voice quieter but no less firm.

Leilah looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time in days. “So are you.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “So we’re the same. The problem is?”

She bit her lip..

“You make time, Sylus,” she said quietly. “She doesn’t.”

It wasn’t that she disliked Mai. She actually liked her a lot, admired her even. But their relationship scared Leilah. High highs, low lows. All passion, no substance. A blazing fire burning a foundation instead of building one. Always pushing each other to fight harder, build thicker walls. The world was their enemy, and they were teaching one another how to spurn it, minus the twins and her.

Sylus’s posture relaxed, his jaw unclenching. He looked at the tray, the untouched food now cold and congealed.

“I’ll be fine, Leilah,” he said, his voice a touch softer. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. But if I’ve been impossible lately, I’ll allow you one free wine glass throw,” he gifted her the first smirk since the match.

Leilah managed a weak smile. “Noted, Captain.”

He watched her for a moment, his gaze lingering as she looked worriedly at his leftovers. Then he rose, taking the tray from her hands. He nudged her toward the red armchair near the fire, his touch light, almost hesitant. “Sit,” he said, the command softened by the warmth in his eyes.

When he returned, the tray was gone, replaced by a bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured for both of them, the deep red liquid catching the firelight, casting warm, dancing shadows on the walls.

“Is it your type of red?” he asked, watching her as she swirled the glass, inhaling the blend of spice and fruit.

“All reds are my type,” she replied, taking a sip. “But it doesn’t hurt that you have the most expensive collection I’ve ever seen.”

He smirked, his eyes reflecting the firelight. “I thought you might like this one based on the wines you’ve been stealing.”

Leilah choked. “Stealing is a strong word, Sylus,” she coughed. “I prefer ‘taste-testing.’”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh? I didn’t know sommeliers drained whole bottles for a single taste.”

Her face heated. “You have enough to supply a small country. I was just helping you find the best ones,” she mumbled, taking another, longer sip.

“What a noble service,” he said, his voice slipping into a playful drawl. “I’m flattered you took it upon yourself.”

She looked away, hiding her smile behind her glass, the fire crackling in the sudden quiet.

He leaned in. The teasing eyes fell away. What remained was quiet, searching.

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did before.”

A pause. His fingers turned the glass in slow, absent circles.

“Let me rephrase. Leilah, am I making the same mistakes?”

Leilah met his gaze, really looking at him. His pale hair caught the firelight, turning the edges gold. His skin, usually flawless, had taken on a slight pallor, and shadows clung beneath his eyes. His long fingers played with the stem of his glass.

He’s afraid , she realized. The man who never feared death, who was the first to dive into a fight, feared something else. Something triggered by Mai’s absence.

Leilah thought of the first time she’d seen him, long before either of them realized they would one day share the same roof. It had been in Linkon, when she was dragged along to another sketchy deal. But Leilah hadn’t watched the deal. She’d watched Sylus. A younger, sharper version of him, but still dangerous, still untouchable.

And now here he was, vulnerable and human. The thought she had back then stood before her now.

This wasn’t a man without fear. This was a man without anyone.

She reached out, lightly touching his arm. “You’re not making that mistake again,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “You’ve grown.”

He blinked at her. His grip on the glass eased, fingers loosening around the stem like he’d forgotten he was holding it.

“I hope…” Leilah started, her gaze dropping to the fire. “I hope I have, too.”

“You never needed to,” he replied, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

She chuckled, a hint of self-deprecation slipping into her tone. “Well, I wasn’t exactly sunshine and daisies when I came.”

“Hardly anyone is in the N109,” he countered, his tone almost reassuring.

She looked thoughtfully at the fireplace and Sylus was careful not to disrupt her.

“I… I was not a good person after my dad died.”

Sylus stayed silent.

“The only person I had after his death pushed me hard to shut everything out. To be colder. Meaner. To stop feeling anything at all. And I let them. I thought if I could just stay angry, I wouldn’t have to feel the grief. Wouldn’t have to remember the good parts.”

She paused, staring into the fire like it might answer for her.

“And it worked. For a while. It felt... clean. Like hate could hold me together better than sadness ever could. It made everything feel simple. Calming, even.”

She swallowed hard.

“But in that anger, I forgot who my dad was. Forgot who I was. Who he raised me to be. Who he wanted me to become.”

Sylus waited before pushing.

“It sounds like you were close to him.”

“He was my best friend. He was funny and loud. The one that pushed me to become a chef,” a ghost of a smile played on her lips.

“He was a musician by trade. Used to be in a band, but enjoyed playing street corners most of the time. And he had a knack for coming up with a song for every situation. He would hum, whistle, even belt it out when he wanted to wake me up for school.” She smiled. “He used to try sneaking up on me while I was cooking, but I always heard him. He’d hum his own sneaky theme music,” she laughed. “He was very bad at being quiet.”

Sylus smiled a rare, genuine smile, one that lit up his features. “A fellow music lover. It sounds like he raised you well.”

“He did, and I wish he was around to see it. Despite my fiery personality, I was always happy. Always had friends. Good schooling. And a supportive dad who always filled the refrigerator with the best ingredients he could find,” her eyes stayed on the flames in the fireplace. “I was happy,” she almost whispered.

“And now?”

It was a moment before she tapped lightly on her chest. “Growing.”

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter 7

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 2.5k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

It was all metal on metal. Cold fingers dragging across skin, gripping too hard or not at all. The body jerked, swung, collapsed. No precision. No mercy.

“Sylus, it’s a stuffed bunny, not an insurgent. Try finesse,” Leilah said dryly. Kieran snorted.

“She’s right, Sylus,” Luke added, watching him try the claw machine again. “Maybe a new strategy is in order.”

“You’re all awfully mouthy for people who’ve never won.”

“Well, if you’d hand it over, I’d show you how it’s done,” Leilah said, flashing a grin. “Last time was a warm-up.”

Mai pouted. “Leilah, you said we could go shopping half an hour ago.”

“I… you’re right. Sorry, Mai.” Leilah’s cheeks warmed. “I used to play this a lot. Got a little competitive.”

“No issue,” Mai said lightly, already looping her arm through Leilah’s. “Boys, we’ll see you for dinner at La Chaleur in three hours.”

“Before you go,” Sylus walked up and handed Leilah a blue bank card.

“I don’t want your money,” she said quickly, trying to shove it back into his hands.

“I’m more than aware,” he drawled. “It’s your money. Wages earned. You haven’t spent a cent on yourself. Enjoy it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us—” Luke started.

“Nope,” Mai cut him off. “Have a nice time, boys.” She smiled sweetly before dragging Leilah toward the shops.

⸻

It wasn’t that Leilah disliked Mai. She just didn’t know how to fit with her.

Not anymore. Not after months of silence and running and forgetting what it felt like to trust anyone.

Before, it would have been easy. She would have been talking and laughing already. Now, she struggled to find that rhythm again.

But if Mai noticed, she didn’t say so. She just kept chatting — light, breezy, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Clothes, accessories, missions, stories about Sylus. Anything to keep the space between them filled.

Leilah didn’t mind. It helped. It pulled her away from the fear and the longing that clawed at her chest in Linkon.

And she didn’t miss the way Mai’s eyes constantly scanned their surroundings even while she talked, mouth cheerful but gaze sharp and protective.

It was strange. And it was comforting.

They wandered through the outdoor mall until a storefront caught Leilah’s eye, bright fabrics in the window, sun filtering through racks of color. She stopped without meaning to.

Mai stopped too, following her gaze.

“Are you a fan of dresses, Leilah?”

Her face went red, but she didn’t look away.

“I used to wear them,” she murmured.

Mai’s smile lit up instantly, like she had just been handed a secret.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Leilah’s hand and tugged her inside.

The shop was a riot of color, delicate stitching, soft fabrics under her fingertips. Leilah let her hand trail across them, heart tugging with memories she hadn’t allowed herself in months. Bright flowers at home. Terrible decorations her dad laughed about but never took down. Color everywhere, once.

“I found it!” Mai called, hands hidden behind her back like she was holding treasure.

Leilah turned, bracing. “Found a dress you want to try on?”

“Nope. Found one you have to try on.”

Mai produced a yellow sundress. Simple but radiant. It looked like it would hug the waist before spilling loose and ending at the knees.

Leilah stared.

“This… this is my favorite color. How did you—?”

Mai’s smile widened, pleased. “It just looked like you.”

Leilah swallowed, hard. Her throat ached with the sudden tightness.

Her dad had always said yellow suited her. Said she looked like sunlight when she wore it. It had been a long time since anyone saw her like that.

“Thank you,” she managed, taking the dress carefully from Mai’s hands. “I’ll buy it.”

Mai wrinkled her nose. “No way. You’re wearing it today.”

She snagged a hair ribbon off a nearby stand, looping it playfully around her finger. “Come on. dinner, dresses, cute hair. It’ll be fun.”

“This seems… over the top,” Leilah said, embarrassed.

Mai just grinned, a little less brightly now. “Let me do this. You don’t have to say anything. Just… let me.”

Leilah looked into her eyes — bright, fierce, just a little lonely — and felt her own walls soften.

She smiled, small but real.

“Okay.”

The moment Leilah stepped into the restaurant, the boys looked up.

Luke’s mouth actually dropped open before he caught himself.

“You look… really nice,” he said, cheeks reddening.

Kieran gave an approving grunt but added, “Guess Mai finally won.”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, smirking at her.

“Looks like she got to you after all.”

Leilah tried not to fidget under their attention. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her like that, not like she was broken or dangerous, but like she belonged somewhere bright. She smoothed the skirt of the sundress and slid into her seat.

She didn’t even need the menu. She knew all of their orders. Luke would order something drowning in cheese — the truffle mac or the four-cheese ravioli, depending on how much he was pretending to care about nutrition tonight. Kieran would go for the grilled seabass, no question. Mai? Anything spicy enough to make a grown man cry. The only mystery was Sylus. These days, he ate whatever she put in front of him — no complaints, no requests. As long as the wine was good.

“I’ll take the seared scallops with truffle purée,” Leilah told the waiter when he came around.

Mai raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Someone’s feeling fancy.”

“It’s a hard dish to execute,” Leilah said, folding her menu neatly. “Most people overcook the scallops or butcher the balance.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be the best judge?” Sylus smirked at her over his glass.

“Yep,” she said brightly, refusing to be baited.

When her dish arrived, it was plated like it was trying too hard — delicate foam swirls, edible flowers, and a tiny glass dish of truffle butter on the side. Leilah took one bite. And went completely still.

Her fork hung midair. Her gaze drifted — not to the food, but to the emergency exit.

The whole table tensed.

Kieran glanced at her, then the plate. “What?”

No response.

“Leilah?” Luke leaned forward, worried.

Still nothing. She didn’t even blink.

Mai’s smile slipped, her eyes flicking toward Sylus, who gave a short nod and began scanning the restaurant. Before he could stand, the kitchen door swung open.

A man in a pristine white chef’s coat strolled out, a smile on his face. He moved toward them with slow, oily confidence.

“Well,” he drawled, “this is a surprise.”

Leilah’s hand twitched on the tablecloth.

He stopped beside their table, ignoring the others entirely.

“Didn’t expect to see you back in Linkon,” he said. “Thought you’d finally accepted your limits.”

Leilah looked up at him with pure venom.

“And I thought you’d finally learned how to season your dishes.”

“Now, now,” he said mockingly, green eyes glinting. “No need to get jealous. Some of us were made for the big leagues.”

Luke blinked between them. “What… is happening?”

The chef gave a fake-polite grin. “We’re old pals.”

“Don’t listen to Dennis,” Leilah said, voice low and dangerous. “He fired me because he couldn’t tell the difference between his ass and a dinner plate.”

“Don’t lie, sweet Leilah,” the chef said smoothly.

Leilah stood, the chair scraping back sharply.

“You fired me,” she said, loud enough to turn a few heads, “for correcting your over-reduced demi-glace, you narcissistic fraud.”

“It was my dish,” his facade cracked.

“And it was wrong.”

The chef spread his arms grandly. “And yet, look where I am now. Executive chef at La Chaleur.”

“Serving undercooked scallops to people who don’t know any better. Congrats.”

“You couldn’t even make risotto without burning it.”

“You mean the risotto you stole and entered into that competition?” she snapped back.

“I perfected it,” he said with a smirk.

“You plated it.”

They were now fully squared off in front of the table.

Luke shifted uncomfortably. “Uh… do we stop this?”

“No,” Sylus said calmly, swirling his wine, watching like it was the best entertainment he’d had in months.

The chef gave the rest of the group a smug look.

“Enjoy your meal. If she hasn’t ruined your appetite.”

“I’d lose more sleep over the salmonella,” Leilah muttered.

“Don’t be sad, little Leilah,” the chef said, voice sickly sweet. “They always need dishwashers somewhere.”

Leilah didn’t think.

She swung.

Leilah lingered near the curb outside La Chaleur, cheeks burning.

Mai was bent over with laughter. Luke hovered nearby like he was half-expecting her to launch at a passerby. Kieran paced in tight circles, muttering about how he hadn’t even gotten to eat yet. Sylus was enjoying every moment.

“I didn’t mean to get us kicked out,” Leilah muttered, folding her arms tighter across her chest.

“He looks better now,” Mai said, wiping her eyes. “Honestly, ten out of ten. Would fight and flight again.”

“I cannot believe you gave him a black eye, Leilah!” Luke said. “I knew you were a fighter at heart.”

Leilah rubbed the back of her neck, cheeks burning. “He insulted my cooking.”

“It was an impressive right hook,” Sylus added casually, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Especially for someone who routinely trips over air.”

Kieran crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath, “Could’ve at least waited until after we ate.”

Leilah shot Sylus a sheepish grin. “Well… thank you for paying them off.”

Sylus shrugged, the faintest smirk curling his mouth. “It was worth the show.”

Leilah groaned into her hands, though a reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.

It was stupid. It was reckless. It was weirdly nice, having people who didn’t hate her for it..

Luke, mercifully, pointed down the street.

“Hey! There’s a carnival!”

She lifted her head.

Across the boulevard, the city seemed to crack open. Bright neon lights blinked against the dark sky. Striped tents stretched like a row of sleeping giants. Bubble machines filled the air with tiny spheres that caught the light and floated like glass.

And music, wild and joyful, rolled through the streets.

“Finally,” Kieran grumbled, already scoping out the food stalls.

Mai linked arms with Leilah. “Come on. You earned this.”

Before she could second-guess it, they were moving, pushed along by the current of laughing families, couples holding hands, little kids running in wide, wild circles. Leilah caught flashes of cotton candy, shining balloons, goldfish in plastic bags.

The night smelled like roasted nuts and frying oil, spun sugar and fresh rain on pavement.

Warm. Sweet. Alive.

Her heart gave a tiny, traitorous kick.

The world she thought she’d left behind hadn’t disappeared. It had been waiting for her to come back.

They moved from booth to booth, tossing rings, trying to knock down bottles, throwing darts at balloons. Sylus won a giant, lopsided teddy bear and insisted on carrying it proudly over one shoulder. Kieran got conned by a rigged shooting game and demanded a rematch. Mai convinced a vendor to give her two extra scoops of ice cream “because of her winning smile.”

Leilah laughed until her stomach hurt.

It was messy and ridiculous and perfect.

After a couple of hours, the noise of the crowd shifted. The music deepened, faster, brighter.

Ahead, a striped tent glowed with soft yellow light. Inside, a live band played something fast and reckless, the kind of music that lifted your feet without asking permission. Couples spun and laughed on a worn wood dance floor, skirts twirling, boots stomping, hands clapping to the rhythm.

Leilah stopped at the entrance, struck dumb for a moment.

Everything inside that tent was color and laughter and motion.

And maybe it was the lights, or the music, or just the sudden rush of belonging, but Leilah felt lighter than she had in months.

“Come on, boss man,” Mai said, grabbing Sylus by the wrist. “Show me your moves.”

Sylus just smirked and let her tug him onto the floor without resistance.

Leilah smiled without meaning to.

This was good.

Kieran quickly made his way to the drinks, so only Leilah and Luke were left.

“Um,” Luke said, awkwardly shuffling beside her. “You wanna dance too?”

Leilah blinked. Then grinned.

“I’d love to.”

Luke’s ears turned pink, but he led her out with surprising steadiness.

The floor was rough and slightly sticky under her shoes. The music was just a hair too fast. People bumped into them, laughing apologies. Someone popped a bubble against her arm, leaving a wet smear of soap.

It should have been overwhelming.

But it wasn’t.

Leilah laughed and spun, letting herself be tugged through the song, dodging other dancers, breathless and dizzy in the best way. The weight of the last year, the fear, the hunger, the walls, slid off her shoulders like a coat she didn’t need anymore.

Luke tried his best, but it was clear he wasn’t a natural dancer. When he stepped on her foot for the third time, he grimaced. “Sorry, I’m more coordinated in fights.”

Leilah laughed so hard she nearly missed Mai swooping in.

“My turn!” Mai declared, grabbing Luke’s sleeve and spinning him away before he could protest.

Leilah stumbled back a step, catching her breath, the music rushing around her like water.

And then.

A hand caught hers.

Warm. Steady.

She looked up.

He was smirking faintly, but waiting. Letting her choose.

“Dance with me?” Sylus asked, voice low under the music.

She didn’t answer.

She just let him pull her in.

Sylus breathed.

One hand at her waist. The other hand holding hers.

He moved without thinking.

And he was always thinking.

But the band played something wild and messy. Bubbles drifted past them. Lights blurred. Laughter spun past.

And it was so easy.

There. With Leilah.

Spinning. Laughing. Hair sticking to her forehead. Yellow sundress catching the light.

He tightened his grip slightly, steering her through the crowd without thinking. She grinned up at him, cheeks flushed from dancing, eyes too bright for the dim tent.

She didn’t look scared anymore. Or broken. Or angry with him.

She looked like someone he had never seen. Someone he wanted to know.

He should have been mapping exits. Tracking faces. Running calculations.

But the music folded around him, warm and full, and for once his mind was still.

Instead, he was watching her.

The way she smiled without holding it back.

The way she stumbled into a twirl and laughed instead of freezing up.

The way she trusted him to catch her without even thinking about it.

The way those green eyes looked at him.

A small pain inched through his chest.

He was pretending to be a man from her world.

One she did not hate. One she might even trust.

Someone who could befriend her without hurting her.

The music picked up, faster. Leilah laughed again, breathless, bright.

And Sylus did not let go

[soft-sylus]

One day we will meet under the stars again

Day 33

[soft-sylus]

“Have you been here, all along?”

thank you to @surlydragon for kindly ripping out my heart with every word you write !!! ❤️ everything you make touches me in a very deep way. I return to Hook Line Sinker again and again; the imagery is so beautifully vivid and real. the way these two love each other drives me nuts and you portray it so beautifully every time.

bonus cutie Sehn with his new mom and dad:

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter 6

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 2k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

The worst had passed. What came next was harder to name.

Since the hospital, Luke tried to engage constantly, inviting her to games, asking about her day, tossing awkward jokes into her silence. Kieran critiqued her knife skills with a scowl, only to snatch the blade and finish the task himself. Even Sylus had started eating her food. And Mai filled her kitchen with mission reports and half-stories, as if it were a confessional booth.

Leilah had wanted to be seen, but not so closely observed.

So when Kieran offered market runs without the blindfold, she started going daily, chasing the illusion of solitude.

Tonight, the N109 market throbbed around her. Neon buzzed overhead. Haggling rang through the alleys like birdsong. The air smelled of spice and decay.

The twins trailed behind her, maskless and fidgety. Time to shake them.

“Sirloin,” she said, jerking her chin toward the butcher. “Five cuts.”

Luke nodded immediately.

Kieran frowned. “That’s a ten-minute walk.”

“Exactly,” she said, flashing teeth. “And if he overcharges Luke, you’ll be mad you weren’t there.”

Kieran muttered something and turned away, dragging Luke with him.

She waited a few seconds, then slipped into the crowd.

Noise and motion wrapped around her like a blanket. She wandered past crates of shriveled oranges, counterfeit silks, rusted kitchen tools, bootleg DVDs, until a warm glow stopped her.

Tomatoes. Bright. Red. Real.

She stopped. Picked one up. The skin was tight and smooth, weighty in her palm. She hadn’t seen fruit like this since... before her time in the N109.

“They respond to touch.”

“How?” she asked.

He took the tomato from her, and for a brief moment, his palm emitted a faint, warm glow. The light seeped into the tomato, casting the red skin in a golden blush. He gave the fruit back to her. “Light absorption and release. It’s nothing flashy, but it keeps my produce fresh. Gives them a little extra kick.”

She blinked, watching as the glow faded, leaving the fruit just as vibrant as before.

“So you’re cheating?” she asked, a small, hesitant smile tugging at her lips.

“Enhancing,” he corrected, his grin turning a little mischievous. “I’d offer to give you a full demonstration, but I’m afraid you’d feel obligated to come back.”

“Is that so bad?” she surprised herself by flirting back.

He grinned, leaning in just a fraction closer, his eyes catching the market lights. “Absolutely not.”

She felt a slight, unfamiliar warmth creep into her cheeks. In another life, when her laugh had come more easily and her confidence hadn’t been ground down by long nights and constant danger. She had never been as beautiful as Mai, never wanted that, but with a loud laugh and a smile that came from her dad, she’d once had a few pursuers. And a confidence in her own body that felt hard to maintain now, with roughened hands and shadows under her eyes.

But in that moment, with a tomato still warm from a strangers touch, it felt a little less distant.

Before she could say anything else, Luke’s voice cut through the noise. “Leilah—”

She glanced back to see him and Kieran pushing through the crowd, both of them wearing matching frowns.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Luke asked, eyeing the vendor like he was a threat.

The vendor raised his hands, palms out, that easy smile never wavering. “Just appreciating a fellow food lover.”

Kieran shot him a glare, but she held her ground a moment longer.

“Thanks for the tomato,” she said, slipping it into her pocket.

“Anytime,” he replied, eyes lingering on hers for a heartbeat longer before he turned back to his stand.

And as the she was led back out into the crowded market, a small confidence grew.

A lion’s roar drifted from the living room. Animal Planet . Of course, Sylus and Mai would watch something that bit back.

And of course, she’d come back with the twins teasing her the whole way.

She had barely reached the kitchen and started unpacking before Kieran made his announcement.

“Leilah got flirted with at the market today,” he called.

The animal sounds immediately cut off, followed by a clatter and the sound of running footsteps.

Mai was instantly at the counter, face in hands. “I want to hear everything.”

Leilah’s face warmed. “It was nothing.”

“‘This produce is on the house if you would only come back again, my fair maiden,’” Kieran dramatically reenacted.

She shot him a glare. “How long were you listening?”

“He said that? Oh my God. He was definitely flirting,” Mai laughed.

“So I’m guessing we’re done watching TV?” Sylus stepped into view, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth as he looked at Leilah.

She was now the center of attention, and she could melt from the heat radiating off her face.

“This is so much better, Sylus,” Mai waved him off without looking away.

“It was nothing. We just had a conversation about produce.”

“And what did he give you for free?”

“A tomato.”

“A tomato?”

“A glowing tomato,” Luke muttered.

Sylus raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you weren’t in the wrong place? Perhaps Storybook Village? Twins, did an old woman invite you into her candy house and try to push you into an oven to keep you warm?”

Leilah rolled her eyes but laughed. “It was light-infused. He has a light evol. That’s how he grows produce in the N109.”

“Okay yes, vegetables are cool,” Mai said, “but tell me he was cute.”

“He was... fine,” Leilah muttered.

Mai grabbed Sylus’ arm and shook it like a child begging for candy. “Oh my god, that means he’s cute .”

“That means he was fine,” Luke defended. Mai grinned at him.

“This shouldn’t be that surprising,” Leilah muttered. “I have been flirted with before.”

Luke looked miserable.

“I am not surprised at all. Just excited.” She paused. “Wait, wait—” Mai darted around the counter and grabbed Leilah’s hands. “Come with us to Linkon tomorrow. Shopping trip. I need someone with actual taste.”

Leilah’s fingers stiffened in Mai’s grasp, but she didn’t pull away.

Linkon.

“I… I have a lot to do tomorrow,” she said. Too fast.

Mai’s smile faded. The room quieted. 

Sylus’ dark eyes lingered on her, quiet but exacting. “You’ll be safe with us, Leilah.”

Leilah didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just kept her hands where they were, jaw tight.

Safe. She didn’t know what that meant anymore.

Mai didn’t let go.

“You don’t have to say yes,” she said. “But if you come, we’ve got you.”

Leilah looked up.

Mai met her gaze without flinching.

Leilah’s throat tightened. The explosion flickered behind her eyes—heat, blood, screaming metal. But she didn’t pull away. She missed Linkon. Even the pieces of it she could never go back to.

“Okay,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Luke stood up. “We’re coming too. Extra backup!”

Sylus sighed. “Of course you are. I assume I’m driving?”

Mai grinned. “Obviously.”

“Tomorrow morning, then,” Sylus said. “Now let Leilah finish before Mai starts gnawing on the furniture.”

As the group dispersed, Leilah let her hands slip from Mai’s.

Mai lingered behind, then turned back to her.

“I meant what I said, Leilah. You don’t owe us anything. But I’d like to get to know you.”

Then she left her alone in the kitchen.

Leilah turned back to the counter, but the moment still lingered in her hands.

Sylus went over the facts in his head.

She was from Linkon. Middle class. Raised by a single father. Average academic record, except in culinary arts, where she excelled. Graduated top of her class. Hired straight into a reputable restaurant.

And then, nothing.

Or rather, something.

Something big enough to erase Leilah. To leave a two-year gap in her record.

When the twins found her, she was half-starved, half-feral, all fight. Tough where someone like her should be soft

No matter how the music played in his mind, the chorus never resolved.

Who was Leilah?

He’d thought about asking her directly. Even now, the instinct was there. But he hadn’t. And when he saw her face at the mention of Linkon, her eyes wide, body pulled taut like a string about to snap, he felt vindicated.

He knew that fear. He’d instilled it in others a hundred times. A fear that curdled the stomach, froze the limbs, turned the most dangerous men into husks.

He used to savor it.

But on her, it looked wrong. Like seeing blood on silk. Like something sacred, stained.

That expression was not made for her.

She didn’t belong here. He could see that. Not in the N109, not among killers. Her anger had been survival, not choice.

Sylus liked protecting those who needed it. Always had.

But she didn’t make it easy.

She bristled at kindness. Flinched at certainty. And no matter how many people he sent the twins to question, how deep they dug through the rot of Linkon, they always came back with nothing. No names. No whispers.

Whoever had scared her, they were buried deep.

And that bothered him.

Sylus leaned back, eyes tracing the ceiling. Linkon wasn’t like the N109. Gangs there didn’t last long. Not without him knowing. Not without paying for the privilege.

So who was it?

He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze drifting to the far side of the room.

This wasn’t supposed to matter. 

It should have ended with a background check and a signature dish. A cook. Nothing more.

But she had become a major factor in all of their lives since the hospital.

And that was a problem.

Sylus closed the file and set it aside, as if that would silence the noise. As if focus was still something he could command.

He looked toward the bed.

Mai lay asleep, black hair fanned across his pillow. Calm. Strong. Familiar.

She was everything he needed. A hardened warrior. Beautiful and resilient. Someone who didn’t flinch at blood or consequences. Someone like him.

She made sense.

She made him better.

Yet, his thoughts lingered.

[soft-sylus]

You were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter 5

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 2k

Note: Next chapter is already posted on AO3!

Luke was evacuated from the base via helicopter, Sylus acting swiftly once the severity of Luke’s condition became clear. He hadn’t so much as glanced at Leilah as the medics loaded him in, though she chased after them, voice fraying as she listed symptoms, hands trembling midair. Only when the rotors roared to life did Sylus finally turn to her.

“Sleep.” Not an order this time. Something rougher. The word left his lips like it cost him, voice barely audible over the motor’s sound.

Then he was gone.

And so she did. She slept longer than she had in years, maybe ever. The exhaustion wasn’t just from Luke’s sickness; it was the endless work in the base, it was the gnawing fear of the streets, it was the life she left behind.

 Now, in the quiet of a real bed, her body gave in. The sleep came in fitful waves, nightmares lapping at her like tide, but it was sleep all the same.

Two days passed before she dragged herself upright, showered, and heard the creak of footsteps downstairs. 

Sylus. Her stomach dropped. She checked the time, how long had it been since she’d last done her job? Had he eaten at all? Did she still have a job after screaming at him?

She threw on clothes and bolted to the kitchen. Evidence of his presence lingered: a discarded coffee cup, a breadcrumb trail near the toaster. Guilt coiled tighter in her chest. Hands moving on instinct, she scrambled eggs into a French omelet, poured orange juice, arranged it all on a tray. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she carried it to his study.

She knocked and his shadows opened the door. Surprise was on Sylus’ face as he looked at her from across the room. He was on the phone, obviously not expecting her to come in. She set down the food and headed quickly to the door.

“I need to go.” He hung up abruptly, then called out, “Leilah.”

She turned. His gaze pinned her in place. “Sit.”

Her spine stiffened. The plush chair yawned like a trap. Against her better judgment, she sat.

Sylus mirrored her, elbows resting on the armrests, eyes steady, not cold, just exhausted.

“Luke alive?” she asked.

“Yes. Kieran’s with him.” A pause. His fingers tapped the desk. “I didn’t realize you two were friends.”

“I’m not heartless.”

“No,” he paused. “ You’re not.”

The silence dragged on for far too long. “Your food is going to get cold.” She pointed to the omelet.

Something flickered in his gaze, not anger. Curiosity. “You should eat it.”

Her laugh was brittle. “Not hungry.”

“I doubt that. You haven’t eaten in two days.” he replied.

When she didn’t move, he split the omelet down the middle, ate his half (the most she’d ever seen him eat), and slid the plate toward her. Her stomach growled betrayal. She ate.

“You were right,” he said, watching her. “You’re the best at what you do. You make an omelet taste like a delicacy.” She shoved down the prickle of pride. “But it doesn’t make sense. Why here? You should be in Linkon, making a fortune. Not on the streets of the N109.”

“Am I fired?”

“No. I just need to know who sent you. I’ll buy you out of their contract. Demolish them, if needed.”

“I don’t have another contract.”

“Then why are you here?” He pulled out a dossier, her photo staring back from the top page. Leilah’s skin prickled. “According to this, you’re Leilah Foster. A normal woman from Linkon. Single dad, only child, no record. Top of your class at culinary school. Worked at the finest restaurant in the city. And now?” A knowing glance at her. “You’re here. Throwing my glassware.”

“You’ve done your research.”

“I’m thorough.” He drawled. “You hate me enough to know who I am. So why are you here?”

“Why is anyone in the N109? To hide.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“No,” she glared. “You’re the one they’re hiding from.”

A pause. “You don’t like me. Beyond the Luke situation.”

“No.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I can’t imagine many people need one, in your line of work.” She held his stare.

“You’re right,” he conceded. She knew she would not hear the last of that. “So who are you running from?”

“I owe someone something,” a lie close enough to the truth.

“Name them." He pushed a pen across the desk. "I’ll settle your debt. Or bury them. Whichever you prefer."

“Why would you?”

“You saved one of my men,” he said, dead serious.

"Is this your apology? It’s lacking creativity.”

"Leilah." A beat. His thumb tapped the dossier. "If I’d thought he was dying, I’d have acted."

Her glare could’ve melted steel. He exhaled through his nose.

"Fine. The situation got away from me.”

“The situation was right in front of your face. How many times did I beg you for help, Sylus? Do you even remember? Me, crying in front of you?” 

His silence was answer enough. “Four times. Four. Luke asked me to. And you humiliated me. Every. Single. Time.”

“Leilah-”

“People exist outside of you! Thank God I threw that glass, or Kieran would’ve come home to his brother rotting on that mattress.”

He closed his eyes, absorbing the words like physical blows. When he opened them, his voice was low. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” she said, a sharp exhale escaping her.

“Alright. You’re right. I was negligent.” A weighted pause. “Believe it or not, I do… care for their wellbeing.” His gaze flickered, then softened. “Which is why I would appreciate making amends. Name what you need and I’ll make sure you get it. Safety’s already guaranteed. What else?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Sylus huffed, a humorless laugh. “Every merc, informant, and back-alley dealer in this city wants to cut a deal with me. The Crows found you half-starved in a gutter. And you want nothing?”

“I found them. And no. Not from you,” her words, poison.

She looked into his ruby eyes, and suddenly, they were all she could see. 

An invasive pressure bloomed behind her temples, like fingers prying open a locked drawer. Just as quickly, it vanished. Sylus leaned back, irritation twisting his features.

His eyes gleamed, not apologetic,. "You’re telling the truth." A slow tilt of his head. "How… disappointing."

Leilah’s nails bit into her palms. “You could’ve asked before using your evol. Especially when you are trying to apologize.”

“I rarely ask permission.”

“You will with me.”

A beat. Heated silence. Then, irritably: “Fine. It won’t happen again. Neither that nor the Luke situation. You have my word.” When she didn’t respond, he stood, snatching his motorcycle helmet off the couch. He tossed her a second one, still warm from his touch

“Now let’s go.”

“Where?”

“The hospital. Luke’s been asking for you.”

The melody in Sylus’ mind was discordant. He never lost control—yet here he was, racing toward the hospital with his cook clinging to his back.

Leilah’s words echoed sharper than glass: He’s a child.

The twins were barely eighteen. They’d had nothing when he found them. And still, he’d sent Kieran away, ignored Luke’s gasping breaths, dismissed Leilah’s pleas. Four times she told him.Four times. He could only recall one..

Guilt burned like fever. She'd asked for nothing - not his money, not his protection, not even the basic human decency he'd denied her. Nothing. The man with the most in the world had nothing to offer a girl off the street. 

He felt her arms around his waist tightened as he made a turn.

Her stubbornness irked him almost as much as the grudging respect it carved into his ribs. He would've done the same. Had done the same.

Recently, He had been distracted by Mai. By her warmth when she was near, and the emptiness she left behind when she wasn’t.

They had once agreed on a simple truth: The only person you can count on is yourself.

But the moment he let himself believe in that, when he made his wants the only focus, everything else began to fall away. Including those around him.

The hospital lights cut through the haze.

Something had to change

Leilah stepped into the hospital room and froze. Luke looked better, awake, smiling, sitting up, but that wasn’t what made her stomach turn. It was the people flanking him: Kieran, mask off and fidgeting, and the woman from the gala, leaning against the windowsill like she belonged there.

There were too many faces from that night. Too many people who were never supposed to know her.

“Leilah?” Luke’s face lit up, and he pushed himself a little higher on the pillows. His voice was still raspy, but the warmth in it was unmistakable. “I knew you’d come.”

She forced a smile, fingers digging into the strap of her bag. “Of course I am.” The words came out softer than she intended.

“Luke’s savior,” the woman said, pushing off the windowsill. Up close, her beauty was even more disarming, with sharp cheekbones and knowing eyes. Leilah’s pulse throbbed in her throat.

“Leilah,” Sylus murmured behind her, closer than she’d realized. “This is Mai.”

“A big fan of yours.” Mai seized her hand with surprising warmth. “Your Japanese curry made me want to cry.”

Leilah blinked. “Oh? You liked it?” The pride slipped out before she could stop it. “I figured you had the same appetite as Sylus.”

Sylus shouldered past them to collapse onto the absurdly small couch, his bulk making the furniture groan. “Mai will eat you out of house and home.”

“Ignore his appetite.” Mai rolled her eyes. “He eats nothing and is no fun.”

“I’ve been ignoring it for a while now,” Leilah said. Sylus’ smirk deepened.

“Thank God. We’re all better for it.”

“Leilah.” Luke’s voice broke through the banter, gentle but earnest. “Are you okay? Sylus said you slept for two days straight after I left. I was worried you caught it too.”

She glanced at Sylus, surprised he’d mentioned her at all. He was busy examining his phone with disinterest.

“Just needed rest,” she said. “I’m more worried about you.” She moved to Luke’s side, and Kieran, always irritated Kieran, stood to offer his chair without a word.

“I’m better now,” Luke said, smiling softly. “The doctor said it was close. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Leilah didn’t miss the way Sylus’ grip tightened around his phone.

“Your brother did most of the work,” she deflected.

“You should’ve seen him when he got the call,” Mai chimed in, flopping onto the couch beside Sylus. “I’ve never seen anyone drive like such a maniac.”

“You were with him?” Leilah asked.

“Helping with a mission.” Mai’s smile dimmed. “Had no idea he was sick. Scary stuff.”

Luke’s gaze hadn’t left her. There was something building in his expression—curiosity, maybe, or disbelief.

“Leilah,” he said slowly. “Sylus told me you threw a glass at him to get me here.” He leaned forward, eyes wide. “That’s not true... right?”

The room went so quiet she could hear the IV drip. Mai’s eyes widened to saucers. Even Sylus’ smirk twitched, like he was savoring the chaos.

“I...” Leilah’s face burned as she glanced at Sylus. He nodded, granting permission.

“I did.”

“No fucking way!” Kieran exploded. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

Leilah barked a laugh. “Not my smartest moment.”

“Boss.” Kieran rounded on Sylus. “I thought no one could sneak up on you.”

“She didn’t sneak.” Sylus stretched his arms along the couch back, the picture of lazy arrogance. “I knew she was there. Just... overestimated her will to live.”

The smile he gave then was different. No malice, no calculation. Just amusement, bright and unguarded. It transformed him entirely. He looked nice.

“Almost as bad as when Mai shot you,” Kieran muttered.

Leilah blinked. “She did what?”

A beat of stunned silence followed.

“Yep.” Mai popped the “p,” grinning. “Right in the chest. First time we met.”

Sylus rubbed the spot over his heart absently. “To be fair, I told her to do it.”

“Worse,” Mai added, still smiling mischievously. “He said ‘If you want to shoot me, at least aim properly,’ so I aimed dead center.”

Kieran shook his head. “Boss literally corrected his own assassination.”

“Shit happens when you’re terrible with women,” Leilah muttered.

There was laughter in the room, real and hopeful. Even Kieran cracked a smile, his shoulders finally dropping.

Leilah sat down slowly, as if something heavy had been lifted off her chest. For the first time in months, she exhaled.

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter 4

Master list: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 5k

Sickness crept in quietly, tucked inside a cough that no one heard until it echoed from Luke’s lungs like broken glass.

Kieran took the lead on his care, but Leilah found herself adding extra broth to meals, leaving cold compresses in the fridge. An unspoken truce bloomed between her and Kieran, measured in steam rising from bowls and the quiet click of the refrigerator door.

She knew she shouldn't care. One of Sylus' crows getting sick should have been poetic justice. But the horrible sounds coming from Luke's room kept pulling her back. The world had taken so much from her, but apparently not this, not her stupid, stubborn compassion.

The worst came while she was setting dinner outside Sylus' study. The tray rattled in her hands as his voice cut through the door:

"I need you gone within the hour. Five day mission."

"But Boss, Luke-"

"Is staying. Which means you'll need to work twice as hard." A pause. Paper shuffling. "Consider it an opportunity."

Leilah's knuckles went white around the tray. Through the wood, she heard Kieran's voice: "Just let me check his fever before-"

"Your brother can swallow pills without you holding his hand." Sylus' chair creaked. "Mai is waiting.” 

Silence. Then, softer, lethal:

"Go."

The door flew open before Leilah could step away. Kieran stood frozen in the threshold, his mask tilted toward her—just long enough for her to see the crack in his defiance. A plea. A warning.

Then he was gone, boots striking the hall tiles like gunshots.

Two days. Three attempts.

Each time Leilah went to Sylus, the fragile hope she’d clung to cracked further. By the third visit, her voice broke mid-plea, exhaustion and fear dragging her down until tears threatened. Still, he stared through her like glass.

Luke will die with no one but the goddamn cook at his side.

When she had finally checked on him hours after Kieran left, she found Luke, drenched in sweat that darkened the sheets beneath him. His coughs weren’t coughs anymore—they were full-body convulsions that left him trembling. He no longer wore his mask.

He’s just a kid.

All this time, she’d assumed he was like others in the N109: cold, hardened, another one of Sylus’ blunt instruments. But the boy gasping in front of her couldn’t have been older than nineteen. His face, smooth and unmarked by time, twisted in pain. Not anger, not menace, just fear, raw and undisguised.

She worked in a frenzy: rattling pill bottles, pressing a steaming broth to his lips, peeling sweat-soaked clothes from his shaking frame. The towel scraped over his ribs as she wiped him down, each pass revealing how much smaller he looked without the armor of his gear.

His "thank you"s had dwindled over the days, from sentences to words to wet, shapeless sounds. Now the worst coughs seemed to come from his bones, like his body was turning itself inside out.

It was Luke who convinced her to try. His cracked lips formed words: "He's a good man. Takes care of us. Just busy." The faith in his glassy eyes made her own burn before she turned away.

So she went. Each return to Luke's bedside demanded new lies. "He's coming soon," she'd whisper, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair, as much to steady herself as to comfort him. Time had dissolved for him; her touch was his only anchor.

This time, as she stalked toward Sylus' office, she didn't swallow the fury or blink back the exhaustion. Let it crack her voice. Let it tremble in her hands. Let him see what his neglect was doing, not just to Luke, but to her. She wouldn't leave until he looked at her properly, until that detached gaze finally focused.

The knock barely resonated through the door. When his shadows finally swung it open, Sylus stood with his back to her, silhouetted against the night-cloaked window. Red wine glinted in his glass as he swirled it absently.

Then she heard it, the low, tuned hum vibrating in his throat.

He’s happy.

The realization hit like a slap. 

The world is burning, and he’s savoring a vintage.

“Sylus.” Her voice came out hollow, all her rehearsed demands crumbling.

“Are you bringing food?” He didn’t turn. “I noticed it was late.”

That’s what he notices. The anger burned her empty stomach into acid.

“No.” She stepped forward. “It’s about Luke.”

A sigh. Finally, he glanced at her, not at her, through her. “I said not to bother me with this.”

“He’s sick,” The words cracked. “I don’t know what else to-”

“Enough.” He turned back to the window, dismissing her as easily as setting down a napkin. “He’s not a child. Now leave. You’re ruining my appetite.”

Fire flooded her veins. Her hands trembled, angry tears threatened to drop.

He will never see me. 

The glass at the nearest table left her hand before she could think, a crystal missile hurled at his skull. It shattered against the window, raining shards like fractured ice. Sylus turned slowly his eyes finally seeing her, but Leilah was already screaming.

"HE IS A CHILD YOU ASSHOLE!” 

“I have been up for 2 fucking days trying to keep him alive. To make sure he is not a rotting corpse for his brother to come back to. AND YOU SAY LET HIM DEAL WITH IT?” Tears streamed down her face but she hardly noticed 

“There are no ambulances in this horrible city! Just me, the fucking COOK, watching a nineteen-year-old drown in his own lungs! A kid is dying and no one gives a shit. There are only two people he cares about in this world and one of them is gone and the other is in here HUMMING AND DRINKING WINE LIKE IT’S THE BEST DAY OF HIS FUCKING LIFE.”

Sylus watched her disdainfully, and Leilah glared back like it was her job.

He strode forward and was encased in shadow before reappearing in front of her, glowering over her. Leilah was not perturbed, continuing her glare.

“You walk on thin ice,” He growled. “If I walk in there and see anything but death, you will have a price to pay.”

“Promises promises,” she spat back. His red eyes seemed to spark with rage but he pulled away, waiting for her failure.

She didn’t wait to see if he followed. The hall blurred. Two days without sleep, two days of Luke’s ribs heaving. 

The moment she threw open the door, her rage dissolved.

Luke lay twisted in sweat-soaked sheets, his skin waxy under the overhead light. Every labored breath whistled through his lungs: thin, reedy, the sound of air fighting through a collapsing tunnel. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

She was at his side instantly, knees hitting hardwood, pressing a damp towel to his forehead. "Hey, it’s okay," she said, smoothing his matted hair. "Sylus is here. Just like I promised."

A wet, choking rattle erupted from Luke’s chest.

Leilah seized his shoulders, attempting to haul him upright, only for Sylus to materialize beside her, effortlessly lifting Luke’s limp frame against the headboard. For a fleeting second, she registered the absurdity: Sylus, pristine Sylus, gripping the drenched fabric of Luke’s shirt without hesitation.

The coughs tore through Luke like seismic shocks. Leilah snatched the cup from the nightstand, holding it beneath his chin as he gagged up thick, tar-dark mucus. "That’s it," she murmured, rubbing circles between his shuddering shoulder blades. "Get it all out."

When the fit passed, Luke slumped against the headboard, his breath still jagged but deeper.

His chapped lips parted around a word: ‘Kieran’,like it was the only rope left to cling to.

Leilah didn’t blink. "He’s coming." She shot a glare at Sylus.

Your turn.

For a heartbeat, those crimson eyes bored into hers—and just for an instant, something flickered in them. Not anger. Not annoyance. Something raw and unnameable, there and gone like a shadow across a lit window. Then he turned away, pulling out his phone.

The door clicked shut behind him. 

From the hall, she heard his voice, not the usual lazy drawl, but something clipped, urgent. ‘Get Kieran back. Now.’

Note: The next chapter is already on AO3

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Chapter 3

Masterlist: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 5k

Sylus savored music, not only for its sound but for its obedience .

It was predictable, rarely able to catch him off guard. It’s melody, it’s rhythm, easy to distinguish. Eliciting any emotion it craved from the listener. Manipulating its audience.

He’d been born with an innate understanding of it. His voice was a natural asset, one he honed relentlessly, but true mastery came from dissection. Notes and scoresheets memorized by age ten. Instruments conquered out of spite, their simplicity irritating, until he found the organ. Its complexity was the only worthy opponent.

 Battle soothed him in the same way. Here, too, he was the composer. People became instruments, his shadows the strings. If they resisted? He’d tune them himself. The melody never wavered. Never betrayed him. His oldest, deadliest companion.

And If he was the conductor, she was his star musician.

Sylus ducked as Mai sent another fist at him, his reflexes as a boxer serving him well. Before she could wind up again, Sylus hooked his leg behind her knees, and she toppled. She glared at him, a look he always enjoyed.

“Trying to scare me, Kitten?” he leaned over her. Mai’s lips curled.

“Well, if we're playing dirty…” she said seductively. Her moves were quick, wrapping his leg between hers before pulling him down. She flipped over onto his body, straddling him. “Then I guess I can play too.”

Sylus couldn’t help but let out a satisfied laugh. “Not exactly legal in boxing, but yes, you are a fiesty warrior for such a small thing,” he sighed. He enjoyed her here, so close to him. The symphony in his head caresses the lack of space between the two. He reached up beneath her chin, pulling her face closer to him. He drank in the self-important smile left by his compliment.

Their moment was shattered by the most offensive sound Sylus had ever endured. Were those chipmunks singing?

Mai giggled before rolling off of him in one fluid movement. “Like my new ringtone, Sylus?” She walked over to her phone, wiping the sweat on her brow off with a towel.

“Is this going to be a permanent feature?” 

“I can make it your personal ringtone if you're interested?” she quipped. She finally answered the phone, and Sylus could feel himself grow irritated. They needed her again. She spoke a few words before hanging up. “They called me into HQ,” She said, her voice already professional.

“As they always do,” Sylus replied, not even trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. She shot him an apologetic smile.

“Aren’t you busy too? Mr. Big Bad Boss of the N109 Zone,” Mai teased. 

He had cleared his schedule for her, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

“I can find a way to keep myself busy, Kitten,” he smirked.

“Give ‘em hell,” she said, pulling her gym bag over her shoulder. “Oh! I forgot! You got a new cook right?” 

He thought back to the background check the twins had left on his desk. “Yeah, a girl off the streets of N109 zone streets. Not exactly the Crows' smartest move. But I guess no one else was willing to sign up for the job. The name is Laurie or something. Why?”

“She’s incredible,” Mai said without hesitation. “What she left us for lunch was some of the best food I have ever had. If you get rid of her, send her to me. I’ll find a way to keep her.”

Sylus smirked. The cook had been in his service about 10 days. He rarely noticed his food; his real indulgence was wine. But as long as she stayed invisible and kept Mai happy, she could stay. “Noted.”

Mai kissed his cheek. “See you later Sylus.”

His hand snapped out, catching her wrist. “Be careful.” The words came out rougher, more exposed, than he’d intended.

Mai blinked, then grinned. “You’re going soft on me.” She nudged his shoulder. “Of course I will be.”

He released her, jaw tight, unable to meet her eyes. She didn’t seem to notice as she left, vanishing into the neon haze of the N109.

Alone, Sylus exhaled. The gym felt too quiet.

-----

“The bastard thinks he’s too good for food .” Leilah wrenched the strainer of tomatoes under the faucet, water sloshing over her wrists. “What kind of overgrown steroid-case survives on three bites a meal?”

She really had tried. It was part of her plan. She needed to become indispensable. But it didn't matter what she cooked,  duck confit with perfect crispy skin, uni nigiri glistening like ocean-polished amber, even the simple omelet every culinary student could perfect in their sleep. Each dish returned, only slightly touched. But the wineglass? Drained every time.

The Crows, at least, devoured her food without complaint. Kieran, the taller twin, still glared at her through his mask, but his plate was always scraped clean. Luke, quieter and quicker to thank her, had become her only ally in the cold apartment. He’d brought her clothes, played uneasy cards with her once, and had a gentleness that surprised her.

“Back with your list,” Kieran announced, dropping the groceries onto the counter. “Hope this one’s worth the trip.”

Leilah ignored his tone, sorting through the bags. Luke lingered, holding out a package wrapped in butcher paper. “The fish you wanted,” he said, his voice more hoarse than usual.

“Thank you.” The words almost escaped as a sigh. She’d begged them half a dozen times to let her join their market runs, to teach them that quality wasn’t measured in money. But Kieran always refused, citing orders: the apartment’s location stayed secret.

Luke shifted his weight, watching her inspect the fish. “It looks great,” she admitted, and his shoulders relaxed as if her approval mattered. 

Kieran was already rifling through her fridge.

“Out.” She didn’t raise her voice. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

For once, he listened, but not without a muttered threat about “ungrateful strays.”

The boys retreated to their rooms a floor below, down the hall from hers, leaving her to work in quiet solitude. Tonight, she cooked Pesce all'Acqua Pazza - not for Sylus, but for herself. The fragrant broth of tomatoes and white wine simmered gently, the fish poaching to perfection. This was comfort, not concession.

When the dish was ready, she summoned the twins first. Only after they'd begun eating did she prepare Sylus' tray, carrying it upstairs with measured steps. His study loomed at the end of the first-floor hallway, a place she'd only ever approached to leave meals outside the door.

But with a stroke of impulse, she took a chance. 

She knocked.

Sylus’ voice called, and carried her in.

As she entered, he was engrossed with a book, a record playing in the background. Leilah looked around and nearly snorted.

He has a gun wall . 

“Something funny?” Sylus asked. She immediately smothered her smile.

"No," she lied, approaching his desk. She set the tray down. "Your dinner."

His hand bypassed the food entirely, closing around the wineglass instead. "And this required an audience?" His eyebrow raised. His red eyes finally looked at her. Fear no longer grew in her gut when she looked at him. Only anger.

You did not erase me that day .

"I want to know what you actually eat. Clearly it's not my cooking."

“Food is food. Not something I am passionate about,” He drawled, returning to his book. “I am sure yours is fine. But I have had food from all around the world. It never impresses me.

“I am the best,” the words slip out.

“You're the best, are you? The best cook in the world is found on the side of the road in the N109 Zone? Convenient.”

"Good enough to know when I'm wasting my talent." She forced her hands to unclench. "If you want fuel, I'll give you fuel."

"Do as you please, master chef." The title dripped acid as he reopened his book. "Just leave it outside next time."

Her palms ached from clenched fists as she left. Later, she’d dice onions with unnecessary violence.

Note: The next chapter is already posted on Ao3 and it's my best yet! Hope you enjoyed!

[soft-sylus]

You Were Meant for Gentle Things: Chapter 2

Masterlist: Here

AO3: Here

Pairing: Sylus/OC non!MC MC/Sylus

Words: 2k

The diner smelled of burnt grease and stale coffee, a familiar, if unappetizing, combination. Leilah sat in a corner booth, her hands wrapped around a chipped mug of lukewarm coffee she hadn’t touched. Her eyes skimmed the room, taking in the cracked vinyl seats and the flickering neon sign that buzzed like an overworked fly.

This place was a dive, no doubt about it, crowded, a little grimy, and packed with the kind of people who knew how to survive in the N109’s underbelly.

Exactly where she needed to be.

The bell above the door jangled, pulling her attention from the half-eaten plate of fries she’d been pushing around. Two figures stepped inside, faces hidden behind black masks. The diner’s chatter died in an instant.

Crows Masks.

Finally.

She waited until they’d settled at a back table before sliding out of the booth, movements smooth and deliberate. Weeks of watching these men, learning their routines, their threats, their little power plays, had led to this. Now, it was time to meet them head-on.

Leilah slipped out the side door into the alley, the night air cool against her skin. The dim glow of the diner’s neon sign painted the cracked pavement in flickering pink and blue. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and waited.

It didn’t take long.

The back door creaked open, and the two Crows stepped out, dragging a shaking man between them.

“If you touch one of our guys again,” the taller Crow said, voice muffled behind the mask, “we’ll be having a much more serious conversation.”

“I didn’t know he was one of yours!” the man stammered. “I swear, I wouldn’t have taken the money if I’d known!”

“And I believe you,” the Crow said, kneeling with exaggerated sympathy. “But the boss is unhappy, which puts us in a tough spot.”

“I’ll do anything,” the man begged.

“Then vanish,” the Crow replied. “If we catch you in the N109 again, you’ll wish we’d just killed you tonight.”

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to disappear.

The two Crows exchanged a look.

“That guy suuuucked,” the shorter one groaned. “And he smelled like a dumpster. I mean, we’re monsters, but at least we shower.”

Leilah stepped forward and cleared her throat. Two pairs of red eyes locked onto her.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

“Then don’t. This isn’t a spectator sport,” the taller one shot back.

“I’m not here to watch. I’m here to work.” She kept her voice steady, but inwardly, she smiled. No recognition. The last loose thread in her plan, neatly tied.

“That lousy cook inside said you pay triple for anyone dumb enough to cook for you. Traded my last pair of earrings for the tip.” She tilted her head. “Didn’t mention the bird theme, though.”

“I told you the masks were dumb,” the shorter one muttered.

“The diner’s full of drunks and bad food. Nobody talks there,” the other retorted.

“Not my problem,” Leilah said. “So. You hiring or not?”

“Name?”

“Leilah Foster.”

“Why the hell would you want to work for us if you know the risks?”

“Better than starving on the streets,” she said with a shrug. “And I’m the best at what I do.”

“You cook?”

“That’s why I’m here. Went to school for it.” The truth, for once, was her sharpest knife. Let them assume she meant some no-name culinary program, not the finest cooking academy in the country, where she’d outshone every spoiled heir with a trust fund.

They exchanged a glance before the shorter Crow stepped forward. “You get one shot. We blindfold you, take you to our place. You cook one meal. If I spit it out, we decide what to do with you.”

Leilah smiled. “Deal.”

------

The kitchen stood frozen in possibility: spotless appliances, barren shelves, a wine collection worth more than her last five years. Like a church after faith had left.

It was a beautiful room in the same way a museum was. Modern appliances gleamed like they’d never been touched. A breakfast counter stretched long enough to feast on. A black walnut dining table, racks of Bordeaux and Barolo lined the walls, each bottle worth more than the 3 months of her life on the streets and even more expensive in the temperature-controlled cellar. All of it was framed with a view that might’ve mattered if this city wasn’t a corpse even vultures avoided.

She trailed a finger along the counter. Dustless. Of course . A kitchen this pristine wasn’t meant for cooking. It was a trophy case, proof that power could buy anything, even the idea of nourishment.

“What do you usually eat?” she asked. The tall one smiled at he, enjoying her struggle.

“Takeout,” The short one replied. Leilah rolled her eyes.

She scoured the room for any morsel of food, her anxiety finally showing. Even with the Crows help, her list of food ingredients did not inspire confidence.

Frozen shrimp (freezer-burned)

Protein powder (unflavored)

Dried lentils (Unopened)

A single lemon (left on the counter, half-dried)

Energy drinks (a pyramid of neon-blue cans in the fridge)

Miso paste (unopened, because they thought it was “weird soy”)

An orange

Cream (for coffee?)

"Gourmet" instant ramen (the $15 artisanal kind, expired)

Butter (good quality)

Brie (left on the counter but good quality)

Hot sauce collection (12 bottles, all identical and relabeled "XXX FIRE")

Random herbs (dried and unopened)

Olive oil (spicy?)

Salt and pepper.

She breathed slowly, letting her mind process the collection. Cooking was as natural as breathing and all she had to do was let herself work.

This is easy. It always has been she thought. And then it was.

Her body moved without asking permission. Her instincts took her to the shrimp, dropping their cold forms into a saltwater mixture to bring back any texture they could muster. As they thawed, she pulled their skins away.

She moved to the stove, pulling out two wide saute pans and placing them on the stove to warm. She grabbed the cheapest bottle of wine she could find, still around $800, and poured it into the pan.

“Hey! You can’t use that!” the tall one said. Leilah looked at him irritably.

“You think he will notice? He has to have at least 500 bottles.” She said. “Now, let me work,” He sat back down at the bar, grumbling.

Along with the wine, she put some salted water and the lentils into the pan to simmer. Before covering it, she took the half-dried lemon, charred it on the other pan and then squeezed it over the lentils. Soon the smell filled the room and the Crows seemed much more interested. She was lucky she had used the last of her money on a meal at the diner before coming, or else she could have eaten the shrimp raw.

Miso-butter hit the pan with a hiss, the smell unfolding in layers, fermented earth, golden fat, searing heat. Her hands moved without thought. This was the language she’d never unlearn: the flick of the wrist to toss shrimp, the tilt of the pan to baste.

Feeding people is loving them her instructor had once told her. The blender whirred, brie and cream spinning into silk.

Even when she was young she strived to impress her father with her food. He praised every dish, but she lived for those rare moments when his fork would freeze, his breath catching, just for a second, and he’d say, ‘Christ, Leilah.’ It was her religion. It was the high she chased. Always finding a better mix of taste, texture, and smell. Always wanting to bottle that moment. Him looking at her as if she’d spun gold from the air.

So now, as always, she cooked for her dad.

She plated the lentils as a base before adding some gratings of orange. She combined the shrimp glazed with miso-butter to the lentils and topped it off with the brie quenelle and a splash of the chile olive oil.

She slid the plate between them. The shrimp glistened, the whipped Brie melted, and the air smelled like victory. The Crows’ masks couldn’t hide their hunger. Good , she thought. Let them choke on it .

“Enjoy,” she smiled.

“Out. We’ll decide,” the taller one ordered, though the other couldn’t tear his eyes from the plate.

She took her time, poured a generous glass of stolen Bordeaux, let the rich swirl of it linger under her nose, then walked, unhurried, into the living room. The wine was still heavy on her tongue when they reappeared.

“You can stay.”

[soft-sylus]

Masterlist: Sylus

Started: 4/18/2025

Last Updated: 7/2/2025

Total Works: 10

Love and Deepspace: Sylus

One Shots

A Small Hope

All I Need

Long Fic: You Were Meant for Gentle Things

Ao3

Chapter 1: Sylus' First Mistake

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

[soft-sylus]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

“Zephyr, could you pass the salt?” you ask, reaching across the kitchen counter.

“What?” Xavier looks up from his phone, brow slightly furrowed. The dim light of the kitchenette creates shadows on his face while he stays close to you at the kitchen island as you cook.

“Xavier,” you repeat, “the salt?”

He nods and slides it over. “Here,” he says simply before returning to the counter without another word. You continue preparing dinner together in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft hiss of vegetables sizzling in the pan as Xavier slowly lulls to sleep.

After eating, you’re both relaxing on the couch when you murmur, “Zephyr, can you grab that blanket?” Your eyes remain fixed on the phone in your hands.

“Who?” Xavier turns to you, his expression shifting slightly as the corners of his mouth turn downward.

“I said—”

“That’s not my name,” he says quietly. “Who is Zephyr?” Though his voice remains calm, there’s an unusual intensity to his gaze now, a subtle tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there moments before.

You struggle to keep a straight face as you respond, “What? I said Xavier.”

“No,” he says quietly, a hint of a pout forming on his lips. “You called me... Zephyr.”

You burst into laughter, unable to maintain the charade any longer. “I’m just messing with you! You should see your face right now.”

Xavier studies you for a long moment, his lower lip still protruding slightly. Without another word, he shifts position and lays his head on your lap, then gradually slides his arms around your waist until he’s essentially draped across you like a human blanket.

“Xavier?” you question, surprised by the sudden weight.

“Mine,” he mumbles into your shirt, his embrace tightening slightly as he closes his eyes, still wearing that subtle pout. “I’ll make sure you remember. Just wait.”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

“Here you go, Zayden,” you say, setting a mug of coffee down in front of him. 

“Thank you,” Zayne accepts the cup with a nod, taking a sip before continuing his reading. His pen moves efficiently across the paper as he makes notes.

Throughout breakfast, you don’t notice anything amiss, though you catch him glancing at you occasionally with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes thoughtful beneath furrowed brows.

Hours later, as evening settles over the city, you return home from your mission. Zayne has arrived home before you, having completed his hospital rounds early for once. The transition from Dr. Zayne to simply Zayne happens as soon as you walk in—his tie is loosened, sleeves rolled up, the rigid posture softening just slightly. You’ve picked up takeout from his favorite restaurant, grateful for the rare evening when you can actually spend time together.

“Zayden, dinner’s ready!” you call out, arranging the food on plates in the kitchen.

“That’s not my name,” his voice comes from directly behind you, making you jump slightly. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

“I—what?”

“Twice, you called me Zayden,” he says. “You did the same thing this morning at breakfast. I assumed you were still half-asleep then. Now I’m curious who’s occupying your thoughts.”

“Oh! I didn’t even realize—” When you explain it was just a mistake—perhaps a character from a show you’ve been watching, or a colleague’s name that stuck in your subconscious—Zayne’s expression softens.

He hums, stepping closer to you. He places one hand on your waist and the other under your chin, tilting your face up to his. “I’d prefer you keep your focus on the present, specifically on your actual boyfriend, Zayne.” He presses a brief, firm kiss to your lips before pulling back, the matter apparently settled for now.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The afternoon sun streams through Rafayel’s studio windows as he works on a new painting.

“Gabriel, this came for you,” you say deliberately, holding out a package that arrived earlier.

No response. Rafayel continues painting as if he hadn’t heard you. Instead of returning to his canvas, he turns to his fish bowl where Reddie swims in lazy circles.

“Reddie, did you hear something?” he asks the fish, leaning toward the bowl. “Strange, I thought I heard someone addressing a stranger in our home.” He tilts his head, listening dramatically. “Maybe someone been sneaking some random man around when I’m not looking. That would explain why that someone is using names that aren’t mine.”

“Gabriel?” you try again, louder this time. The continued mispronunciation is clearly not helping your case.

Rafayel ignores you completely, continuing his one-sided conversation with the fish. “What do you think, Reddie? Should we be concerned? There’s clearly someone here speaking to people who don’t exist.” He sighs.

You try again, louder this time, fighting to keep the laughter from your voice.

Rafayel’s back stiffens further, but he doesn’t turn around. Instead, he continues speaking to Reddie as if you’re not even in the room. “You know, Reddie, loyalty is such a rare quality these days. At least you will never forget my name.” He strokes the top of the fish bowl gently with one finger. “Perhaps we should compose a song about abandonment and betrayal. I could return to the opera with a tragic ballad about a forgotten lover...”

You can’t contain your laughter any longer. “Rafayel, it’s me!”

His head snaps up immediately, his face breaking into a bright smile. “Oh! There you are, cutie! I didn’t see you come in. Is that for me?” He jumps up. “You’re just in time, I want to show you something.”

You soon find yourself caught and marked with colorful fingerprints as payback for your prank.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The soft lamplight illuminates Sylus’s study as he reclines in his leather armchair, engrossed in a vintage hardbound book. You approach with a cup of tea in hand.

“Silvan, are we still on for tonight?” You approach the table, trailing your fingers along its cool surface.

He continues examining his book, turning a page with deliberate slowness, making no indication he’s heard you. The only sound in the room is the song coming from his vinyl.

You clear your throat and try again. “Silvan? About tonight’s dinner...”

He finally looks up, a barely perceptible smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. His eyes—those unnaturally intense eyes that seem to see through every deception—fix on yours with amused interest. “Are you addressing me, sweetie? I believe you have me confused with someone else.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts subtly. Sylus has never been a man to tolerate carelessness, even from you. Especially from you.

“Sylus,” you correct yourself. “I meant Sylus.”

“Better,” he says, turning back to his book and marking his place with a bookmark. “And yes, I still plan to indulge you with my company tonight. Though I find myself curious about this... Silvan.” The way he lingers on the incorrect name sends a slight chill down your spine despite the warmth in the room.

You internally sigh, messing around with him always goes wrong for some reason.

Hours later, you find yourself at an exclusive restaurant. Sylus swirls the deep red wine in his glass, studying its color before taking a sip. He appears completely at ease. Just as you begin to think the earlier name slip has been forgotten, he casually remarks, “You know, (other name), this restaurant has excellent desserts. You should try the chocolate soufflé.”

Your head snaps up from your plate. “What did you call me?”

“Oh? Now you understand how it feels,” he chuckles, voice pitched for your ears alone. “Though I must say, your jealousy is far more entertaining than mine could ever be.”

His laughter fills the space between you as you struggle not to retort back.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Delicious aromas fill your apartment as Caleb moves around the kitchen, preparing what promises to be an impressive dinner. You lean against the counter, watching him taste-test the sauce, admiring the way he looks in casual clothes instead of his uniform.

“Calvin, this smells amazing,” you say, reaching for a piece of chopped vegetable from the cutting board.

The wooden spoon in his hand freezes mid-stir. “Who?” His voice remains light, but you notice the immediate tension in his shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes as he turns to face you.

“The food,” you gesture to the simmering pots. “Whatever you’re making, it smells incredible.”

“No,” he says deliberately, each word precise and measured. “What did you just call me?”

“I said Caleb,” you keep up the act.

“Did you?” He sets down the wooden spoon and wipes his hands slowly on a kitchen towel before approaching you. “Because I clearly heard you call me by another name.”

The playful atmosphere from moments ago has evaporated completely. Though he’s not in uniform and you’ve known him for years, you’re suddenly very aware that this is the man who commands an entire fleet with unquestioning authority.

“It was just a slip of the tongue,” you insist, feeling the cool edge of the counter press against your back as he moves closer. “I don’t even know anyone named Calvin.”

“A slip,” he repeats, his voice deceptively soft as he stops directly in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart beat faster.

His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your lower lip, “I need to be certain my name is the only one on these pretty lips. Now,” he says, stroking your cheek gently, “Let’s try again. Who am I?”

“Caleb,” you breathe, and the smile that spreads across his face shows satisfaction.

“That’s right,” he confirms, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. “And don’t you forget it. Not ever.”

Based on this request.