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astracora · 7 months ago

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The Cat Curse - MC Edition - Chapter 2

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Some hurt/lots of comfort, semi-canon compliant heart condition, spoilers for current story release (Small mentions of Sylus bond up to 102 and all of Sylus' currently released content), small references to the other boys stories.

Word Count: 4391

Written: 24th December 2024

Notes: New relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs (this time with group chat), with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me.

Now Playing: Freaking Me Out, By Ava Max

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Sylus is nothing if not driven. Once he has a task, he will carry it out, and finish it. Sometimes his drive scares you, because he seems to be unperturbed by everything, no fear and no hesitation.

So after you've eaten and slept, curled up in the safe cage of his arms, and feel less like the outside world wants to sink its blooded fangs into you... he drags the both of you back to the cafe.

It's late at night and it shouldn't be open, but rules have never been set with Sylus, and he ignores them at will. Especially, you're learning, when it comes to you. Thankfully an OTTO is still floating about the place, and answers your questions...

Kind of.

"I stress THEM out? They cursed ME!" You grind your teeth as the two of you leave the cafe. When the boys had been cursed, they'd had to work their sentence... you had been told, none too kindly, that the cats would be more stressed by your presence.

More stressed by you. Than Sylus. A man who used to pick them up with his mist and hiss back at them if they annoyed him.

All you'd done was pet them, maybe... hold on for too long to your chest. For two straight hours... even when it began to wriggle. You glare at the man beside you who is chuckling to himself at your hissing, "All I did was cuddle them!"

"They're overworked and underpaid, kitten, what do you expect?"

You hiss again, low at the back of your throat and sniff, turning your head away and walking steps ahead of him. "You're enjoying this." It comes out with more venom than you mean it to, and you halt as he takes your hand, quickly to pull you back, easing the tension out of your spine with a large warm hand.

"Not when you're in pain, kitten." Your tail droops and you sniff him, slumping against him, "You just have to hold out, you're not going to do it alone."

You're not one for being affectionate in public, you'll hold hands, but that took a while to get you there, and you'll sometimes lean and cling to arms when you've had a little to drink, but anything more was new... and you were private. Worn out, though, you find comfort from Sylus' presence and fall into his arms easily now. A little safer, a little less on edge, knowing he will not let anything hurt you.

"Plus," his uneven heart beats against your ear, "I quite like your new attachments. They're honest."

You blink up at him, just as you feel his fingers rub at the base of your tail.

It's a jolt of pure hot lightning right up your spine, arching up, butt pushed into his hand chasing it, hand tightening in his shirt, and a moan, more like a purr, escapes you. Embarrassment hits then, and you cover your mouth quickly, fleeing his hands.

Sylus' eyes are wide as they stare at you. Molten and captivated, and his cheeks have a small tinge of pink. He looks down at his hand for a moment, then back at you, "Like that." He says on an exhale, but his voice is a little shakier than you're used to, and you aren't sure how to respond.

He takes your hand from your mouth, and entwines your fingers, leading the two of you back to your apartment, but he looks at you with a canine peaking out of his lips and leans in to husk in your head, "Information to be filed away for later."

----------

You're sulking, well. Almost. He was cooking, trying to make something more substantial for you to eat. If you were fed, rested and watered, he knew the overstimulation would be easier to manage. You had asked him if you could help...

"Are you going to get fur in the food?"

You'd blinked, looking down at the tail swishing behind you, kicking up long fur wherever it went, and ducked your head, "I... can't promise I won't."

He'd kissed the top of your head, and sat you down at the counter, away from his food prep, and with your music quietly playing in the background. He's used to you chafing if you can't be useful, worrying at the edges of your heart to earn something. He's tried many things in the past, offering deals in return for things he wishes to give you, bribing you for time spent, trying to make it a transaction you can calculate evenly.

At the end of the day, he was just putting a plaster on the issue. You just had to accept he loved you, and wanted to do things for you.

"Just keep me company."

You'd nervously nodded, and sat watching him for a while, before speaking, "What was having a tail like for you?"

The knife almost clatters out of his hands, he catches it in mist before it truly leaves it, and rights himself as quickly as he can. A second, but a second too long. He looks over at you, your head titled, ears pointed straight up, flicking towards him to catch anything he might say.

"My tail?" He clarifies, because he knows memories aren't easily gained back... and truthfully part of him doesn't actually want you to gain them back. He worries about who you are now, and how you'd handle the influx. Betrayal and hurt. Revenge that drove you into the arms of a fiend. There was good in your heart then, but it had been crushed out quickly in favour of a weapon for corrupt zealots. He doesn't want to see the you, while flawed and still hurting, crushed of the good in you now. Yet another little treacherous part of him... it wants you to remember every moment that you spent teaching him love. He wants you to remember the name you gave him.

It's a small part though, because you're here, now, and you love him still.

"Yeah, when they cursed you. You seemed to-" you grab your tail and try to shove it under your leg to stop its movement, "control yours better than Raffy or me."

He relaxes, nods a little to himself and resumes his work, "You and the fish aren't honest enough, the tail's working overtime." He catches you blink, look down at yourself and then frown, before adding, "I just got used to mine because I had to, I suppose." It's not a lie. He had to learn quickly... and alone, and even then it wasn't quick enough.

He just can't tell you that it was the scaled tail that taught him. You have to get there on your own, if you ever do.

"So if I'm more honest, it will calm down?"

He chuckles, "Heart and soul, Kitten."

You run your fingers through the end of your tail and sink into silence, so he leaves you be. Your mind is a place he wishes he could explore without hurting, he's used his evol on you once, at the very start... he has no intentions of digging anymore. Pain is not something he wants to inflict on you, he wants to offer you every desire and all the world's pleasure. So he waits for you to share insights into the workings of your mind, even if those insights baffle and confuse him... more than they help build the puzzle of you that he keeps in his chest.

He flicks through the recipe he’s following, to make stew, and sees the notifications on the group chat popup. Then hears soft laughter from you, when he reaches a point where he just has to watch the pot, he opens his phone.

He catches the apple you throw at him with ease, chuckling to himself as he puts his phone back down, stirring the pot. “See, kitten?”

You fidget in your seat, looking up at him with wavering eyes, guilty but there’s a glimmer there. “Yeah. I do.” He watches you, as you stroke your tail with your hand, head tilting, “I hope this doesn’t happen again, but if it does, I’ll tell you.”

Sylus doesn’t respond, he simply nods, and gets back to helping feed your hunger, as well as your heart.

—————

Sylus knows the nature of a tail fairly well, his own before was a great tool and a weapon. In it’s, and his, kinder moments, it was a good way to hold you close to him. Feel your heart beating under scales. An action that seemed possessive by nature, rather than soft, as using his hand might have been. Even with his claws. His rarely betrayed him, except for when it curled around you when he was tired and sought your greedy soul pressed to his, but yours… it betrays your emotions constantly.

It is a constant warmth around his wrist, or his ankle, or his waist. Whichever is closest or easiest to reach. He’s not used to you being so honest with your body, it is your words, forced through a tight throat, that explain your feelings mostly. This is a change. It’s not unwelcome, though you frown everytime you realise what is happening. Grabbing at the betraying limb, and trying to keep it contained.

He’d eased your hand away, rubbed at your knuckles with his thumb, and shook his head. Allowing you to seek out the comfort you needed, though your hand had still twitched to pull it back, eventually you had stopped trying to fight it. Relieved everytime your tail touched his skin and grounded you.

Sylus wants to touch your ears. It seems only fair, after you pet his. Disgruntled and pleased as he was for you to send jolts of lightning down his spine and through his skin. Sylus believes, you owe him one. Just this once. He’s been avoiding them for a while, whenever he touches you, as he soothes your skin with his touch. If he brushes your tail it is light, pressing too heavy results in your back arching and moans out of your mouth that make him feel dry mouthed and starving.

He’s seen many cats, he has lovingly called you kitten for a long time. Curious and chaotic, though prone to scratching and hissing to protect yourself. He’s pet cats in the street, seen them pleased and rubbing themselves against him at the right pressure between the ears.

He wants to see you like that.

You relax, tail flicking, curling and twitching. He lies with you, watching a movie on the too small television in your apartment. The volume is low enough your ears don’t constantly swivel, and he has better hearing than most anyway. You lay on him, as you watch, head pillowed against his chest, and irregular heartbeat under your ear.

As you focus, humming along to one of the songs, he reaches gentle hands to your hair. First soothing strands, and then rubbing at the base of your ears. The keen he gets in response, and the way you bite down on the fabric of his shirt, makes him twitch. Overheated even for him. For a moment, you look like you’re debating running away. Tail upright, ears pinned, eyes spearing him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He promises into the side of your head, and it’s one of the truest things he’s ever said. Cherish you, and devour you, but he won’t hurt you. You are the one who can hurt him, after all, and how glad he is for that certainty.

Your tail lays back down, and this time you nuzzle into his hand, “I trust you.” A song he never thought he’d hear from your lips when you were reacquainted. It sings into his soul, and he takes his pleasure from yours. Petting his kitten, soothing your ears, scratching along your back and base of your tail. You wriggle atop him, unable to hold yourself back. Purring a storm against his chest, hand clawing at him like you’re trying to knead.

There is also the manner of your fangs. One hand traces the line of your cheek, brushing over your lips, and you bite at his fingers. Chasing them in your bliss. None too gently, but not enough to draw blood.

The shock snaps you back, and you apologise, but he’s staring at the marks on his finger with a thrum in his veins. Sparking in hunger. He tilts your head to look at him, and presses his fingers against your closed lips. “If you want the mark to stay, you have to bite harder.” Your eyes widen, blinking at him, but instead you open your mouth to lick his fingers. Moving to where you bit, and laving over it.

His skin prickles, itches, burns, aches. Pain is familiar, whatever you offer is always new. The movie is truly forgotten, as he returns the favour. His marks, however, will stick around for a few days at least. He notices, later, in his pleased haze… that there are some from you, right over his heart.

—————

You understand now why Sylus was grabbing at seagulls, something in your brain, an instinct you didn’t want, is urging you to watch birds. You want to swat and grab, and barely hold yourself back. The faster they move, the more they flap, the harder it gets to hold yourself back. Your balcony is the perfect place to watch them, warm under the sun, as your traitorous body clicks and hisses when they get too close. Alone in the apartment, while Sylus goes shopping for supplies, you have Mephie for company.

Who frankly… seems wary at best. He has offered you a feather to play with, as though that will appease you and keep you from trying to eat him. “I’m not going to bite you Mephie, I promise…” You can’t promise you wont swat at him though. It’s unnerving, having such little control over your impulses. You are relieved when he finally settles, and even more so when he joins you in your game. Moving your discomfort, and embarrassment into playful glee, as you both click and clack at visiting birds.

Eventually the game grows boring, fickle and done until you find something new to do. Mephie rests on your shoulder, and has taken to helping you groom the fur around your ears that blends into your hair. Soothing the mess and in return, you fuss beneath his wing. It’s hard to imagine the time you had met Mephie, and Sylus by extension, wary and full of hatred. Righteous anger snarling through your chest. Now they bring safety and comfort, and a feeling of coming home to roost.

Eventually the sun eases the both of you into sleep. You lay down with Mephie resting in the curl of your tail, and are nudged awake very gently. A hand holding your cheek and lips at your forehead. “Sy-” You purr, waking slowly and pleasantly into his arms, “Hey.” Tired, you are always softer, not as aware of the world. Edges rounded. You nuzzle into his warmth, “Missed you.”

“Me too kitten. How are you feeling?” His answer is you forcing him to sit, as you climb into his lap, face in his neck and drifting back into the call of slumber. Big, lazy, feline, on the best bed you’ve ever found. You hear Mephie complain as his warm blanket disappears, and hear a huffed, “They’re mine, Mephisto.” But you’re comfortable, and warm, and sleep pulls you back under too quickly.

—————

There’s cat fur everywhere, and while you would love a pet cat, you didn’t realise just how bad the shedding would be. Admittedly you are a… very large cat. With very long fur. You cannot stop sneezing, you’re not allergic, you think, but the fur truly does get everywhere you look. Sylus chuckles as you rub at your nose, and after you’ve attached your prosthetic, the two of you get to cleaning.

Sylus is one of those people… you expect to have someone for everything. A cleaner, a chef, a personal valet. You’d realised that he was too untrusting, and every new person was a risk, better to minimise anyone who could cause trouble in his day to day. He’d learned languages to keep his deals contained, he had learned to cook, though you weren’t aware he mostly learned to do that for you, and he cleaned without complaint, because any task with you was worth doing.

Well, he mostly helped you. When he wasn’t finding new things around your apartment to look at, nosing his way through your belongings.

“What’s this?”

“A candle lamp.”

“This?”

“An old Christmas ornament.”

You rarely got to see this side of him, curious and poking around. You supposed he’d never really taken the time to look through your things. He’d definitely wanted to, you remember the first time he entered your apartment, nose flaring and eyes darting around. Like it was full of treasures, and he wanted to claim them.

Instead, he’d held himself back, and been careful not to touch anything, as though it was all fragile, and he was a destructive bull.

He soon plucked a photo album out of your book case, and started to flick through as you swept up a mountain of fur, “This is your family?”

You freeze, dropping the broom, clattering it across the floor. He walks over, hand stroking your head, “I-” You look at the album in his hands. It’s the old photo of you, Gran and Caleb. The same one that used to sit on your desk at work, before you hid it in a draw. The same one that sat in pride of place at Gran’s home… your home, before it was devoured by flames too.

You nod at him, unable to force words past your throat, and he looks at your shaking hand. “Show me?”

Part of you wants to say no. You don’t want to talk about them, your tail is bristled, kicking more fur up into the apartment… but you miss them, and you want him to understand. It’s easier if he understands. You can apologise a million times over for shooting him, but he has to understand what drove you wounded and angry and full of hate into his arms the first time.

So you let him lead you to the sofa, and open the album with him. It documents as much of your life as your memories can hold onto, though some photos are hazy, and when he asks about them, you can’t quite recall. Like there’s a fog around it. You remember parts. You remember that one is a birthday, You’re fifteen, but if he asked you for anything else, you’d only be able to tell him your family were there.

You remember more in your twenties, pointing out photos with college friends. Talking about reckless moments where you got into fights. There are photos of you with bruises on your face, arm around Caleb as you flash the camera a thumbs up. He’s rolling his eyes, but his hand is tight on your waist, like he’s scared to let go.

There’s a change at some point, where you decide you want to be a hunter, where the bruises are now focused around where you train. Where there’s more life in your eyes, a drive you never had before.

“I used to skip classes a lot, didn’t really see the point.” You point at one of the photos, grainy and hard to make out. You and friends in a club. You remember it being midday, you remember being told anything too strenuous could hurt your heart. You remember deciding you didn’t care, because everything was too short.

Sylus listens, arm around you, head on your shoulder. Looking down at captured moments of you. He’s steady, he’s familiar, and there’s no sense of fear, or of falling. It’s not biting at your heels to remind you that they’re gone. You know that intimately. Instead, you point out photos, and you tell him everything you remember about your family. The people who cared about you, despite how much work you were. Who pushed you to do something, to be better.

A photo of you post exams, the first time you wore your hunters uniform, photos of Caleb in his own uniform.

Photos of family meals.

It cuts off at some point. Recent, you think, and you stare at the empty pages. Since that day you’d had no interest in keeping recollections. In keeping up the collection of memories. Photos had become a habit to store, since you were a child. Caleb started it, thinking visuals would keep your memory more stable than the written word. Though he’d still helped you keep a diary.

It had stayed that way ever since. If you took photos, you could never truly forget… right?

There were so many things now, though, that you wanted to keep in your grasp. To never forget. As your fingers stroke the empty page, Sylus pulls his phone out and opens his photo albums. Flicking through the many things he’s saved. Almost all of you. A random lamb. The twins. Mephisto posing. Zayne with his cheeks stuffed with macarons. Raffy with paint on his nose. Xavi sleeping in the grass surrounded by flowers.

You hadn’t really noticed, how often the man next to you kept a record of the world around you. He points the screen at you, and tightens his hand on your waist. “We should get some more printed out. Fill all those empty pages. There’s a distinct lack of me in there, kitten.”

The laugh that escapes you is so wet with tears, you feel bad for it, but the heat in your chest is so precious… like a baby flame you have to nurse and protect.

He has a photo of you, Tara and Nero at the karaoke bar, where Skye made an appearance. Pleasantly tipsy, and far too into whatever horrible song you were singing. Probably very out of tune.

He settles, finally, on a photo of the five of you. A bad selfie, taken with a shaky hand, as Sy tried to get everyone’s heads in. Raffy has climbed Zayne’s back to stick his head into shot, Xavier has his chin on your shoulder, and Sylus has his arm outstretched as far as he can get it, and his arm around you. You’re happy.

You’re happy.

“You’ve been taking a lot.” You speak, and its wet and you sound like you’re going to cry… and truthfully you feel very close. It’s embarrassing and your nose feels weird, but you don’t know what else to do.

“Every moment is worth remembering, Kitten. Of course I have.”

Don’t forget me. Is unspoken.

Don’t stop loving me.

Don’t move forwards, and leave me behind.

You think, that even if you forget, even if you wake up one day not remembering his face. You’ll know his heart and his soul more intimately than you know anything.

Strong emotions, after all, are impossible to truly lose.

——————

“I want salmon.”

“Is that the cat speaking, or my kitten?”

You bat at his arm, fangs flashing at him, tail swishing. “Salmon!”

“Alright, alright.” He chuckles, ruffling your ears and your hair with one big hand, “I quite like you like this.”

Relying on him, you assume, or demanding? You’re not sure. He’s asked you to be greedy many times, to boss him around, to make demands of his time and his life. It’s hard to do, if you rely too much, you worry he’ll start to pull away.

You promised though, you promised.

It wasn’t just a promise to be honest and share your pain, it was a promise to really, truly trust him.

So, you hit his arm without force, “Salmon pasta!”

His laugh is delighted and delightful, and you want to hear it forever. Instead, you sit at the counter, pushing your tail under your leg so it can’t kick up a gust of fur. You’d just finished cleaning after all, and the idea of having yet another mountain of fur to get rid of, didn’t appeal.

“I want to help.” Your ears pinned back, and looking at him in frustration.

Sylus spares you a glance as he looks for one of the many recipes you’d sent him, not asking for them to be made, but excited to find time to try them, “When you’re not a furball, you can help.”

You might be offended, if he weren’t right. “Says the man who spits out feathers with his evol…”

“Not into your food though Kitten.”

You snort. No, into your bed, on your floor, in public places… your favourite cafe. All over his base. Sometimes he cleans them up himself.

Sometimes.

Though you have a few of his feathers saved, using them as bookmarks in books you never seem to find enough time to read. Shame the fur is more messy, you’d quite like feathers… or scales. Something that doesn’t leave you sneezing.

“I bought tickets to a botanical garden.” You look over at him, but he’s not looking at you. Moving through the steps he’s following on his phone, half humming to himself to the music playing at a low volume in the background. “If you feel like going?”

You look down at the tail that’s twitching under your leg, and then over at him again. This time he’s watching you, eyes bright. Eerie if you didn’t know him. Instead you think them a flame, a candle in the dark to lead you. Being out in the noise right now, scares you, but he is there. He will always take you somewhere safe if you need it, he would move mountains, and you can rely on him to help you when you need it.

It is not a weakness to need help.

It’s ok to cry, and be scared.

So you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and nod, “Yeah… yeah I’d like to go.”

You want to see roses with him.

You want to see the world with him.

His smile is small, but his eyes speak more than anything. Relief and happiness at your trust. Love shining in garnet. “Tomorrow then.”

Tomorrow.

A future, no matter how close ahead.

#wonder writes #love and deepspace #sylus #reader x sylus #sylus x mc #lads x mc #lads x reader #sylus x reader #lads #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #I HOPE UR PROUD OF ME THIS HAS MINIMAL ANGST #i love the group chat so much... i want to just do stupid messages with them all forever #smau #fake texts

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