#qin che

[catbolt]

— SYLUS HEADCANONS PT 3.

part 1, part 2 - more headcanons for the loml (fluff)

drinks his morning coffee standing out on the porch like a dad

this man will 100% leave messages for you in the condensation on the mirror after he takes a shower. whether it's a "you look beautiful", a cat drawing, or a smiley face with "have a good day", he makes sure to leave a silly little doodle to put a smile on your face in the morning

always back hugs you and rests his chin on top of your head, which is easy to do because he's so much taller (i headcanon he's 6'4/193cm and istg i am right about that)

i think sylus is an EXPERT flower purchaser. the bouquets he pulls together are genuinely works of art. no supermarket flowers from this guy considering he has a florist on retainer to provide regular fresh flowers for his house and for your weekly bouquets that always incorporate your favorite flower.

he's so self-assured. he literally has no doubt about exactly how and when he can get something done and he's right every single time. it's not cockiness or arrogance exactly, except when he's joking around, just a calm and deep-seated confidence that exudes in everything he does. he also just knows himself really, really well, and if he can't do something he admits so easily, never over-exaggerating his capabilities. "i don't know how, but i'll learn" is his attitude— especially when you're the one asking.

sylus has a modest little wood cabin in the forest outside the city for private vacations whenever he needs a break from being the leader of onychinus. he brings mephisto so he can play with the wild crows and birds for enrichment. it's his most private space, so it took a long time for him to bring you there, but now you spend weekends there together regularly.

despite having a refined palate and infinite opportunities to experience fine dining, sylus 100% has a junk food guilty pleasure and will absolutely never say no to a late night drive thru run

always says he's not interested in reality tv but consistently ends up standing behind the couch when you're watching *insert trashy reality show* intensely invested. acts like he doesn't care but then later that night he's lying in bed ranting to you like "i can't believe brad is going to the altar with veronica after he led britney on for the past four episodes"

he honestly just loves staring at you. not in a creepy way, but he does love to watch whatever you do, whether it be working, getting ready for a night out, sleeping, even just sitting around scrolling on your phone. he isn't a chatty guy and truly enjoys the moments where he gets to silently admire you in your natural state.

he always ensures you feel genuinely comfortable with whatever you two are doing. he's good at reading you and is exceptionally aware of when you're placating or people-pleasing: "tell me what you really want," "i can tell when you're lying, sweetheart," "i need you to be honest with me, baby. it doesn't make me happy when you try to tell me what you think i want to hear." whether you like it or not, he always knows when you're lying and pushes you to speak your mind.

[mangooes]

Skincares and A Touch

Sylus Qin was a man feared by many.

A powerful criminal mafia lord boss, draped in wealth and authority, known for his ruthless efficiency and cold demeanor toward those who wronged him. He was a man who could make everything crumble with a mere flick of his fingers.

And yet—

Here he was.

Standing in the middle of a skincare aisle.

A very pink, very fragrant skincare aisle.

Dressed in his usual all-black attire—leather jacket, gloves tucked into his hand, a long black pants, a watch worth more than the store itself—he stuck out like a sore thumb among the pastel shelves of moisturizers, serums, and face masks.

The sales assistant, a young woman barely holding back a squeak, hesitantly approached him, trembling.

"Uh… sir? Can I help you find something?"

Sylus didn’t even hesitate. "My wife uses this brand," he said, pointing at a neatly arranged set of glass bottles. "Which ones are new?"

The saleswoman blinked. "Um… does your wife have a specific preference?"

Sylus didn’t miss a beat. "She likes the datura-scented overnight mask but only uses it twice a week. The rose tea essence serum is a must, but she doesn’t like the lavender one because it’s too strong. She prefers gel moisturizers over cream-based ones, and if you’re out of the honey lip balm, I need a similar alternative—preferably with natural ingredients."

A beat of silence.

The saleswoman just stared.

The other customers in the store also stared, wondering who on philos would marry such a scary looking man?

Sylus arched a brow. "Well?"

"…Sir, are you a dermatologist?"

"No," he said flatly, picking up a pack of under-eye masks. "I’m just a very devoted husband."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Sylus got home, the smell of lemon tarts and fresh baked scallops greeted him—his sweet wife, (Name), lazily strolling through the kitchen in one of his oversized shirts, flipping through her sizzling pan.

She glanced up as Sylus walked in, helmet in hand, a small bag of purchases in the other.

Her brows lifted. "Ah welcome home Sysy!...What’s that?"

Sylus smirked, tossing the bag onto the kitchen counter. "Your favorites." As he leaned against it admiring his wife from the distance.

She perked up, leaving the now half baked scallops on the pan, peeking inside—only to find her exact preferred brands, neatly arranged in the bag. Her very specific products, some of which were even hard to find.

She looked up at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Sylus… did you just go out and buy me skincare?"

"I do it all the time," he said casually, shrugging off his jacket, hanging it before walking towards her "I like to keep my wife looking radiant."

She gawked at him, then turned back towards the now baked scallops on the pan. "I never even told you what I use."

Sylus smirked. "Sweetie, I memorized the way you sigh when something smells too strong. You think I wouldn’t memorize your skincare routine?"

He strides closer, both hands wrapped around her imidietly, as he snuggled inhaling the sweet scent of his wife and his favourite dish.

"Mhmm, i smell baked scallops...how romantic of you, kitten."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere husband, this is your favourite after all, do you think i would forget?"

Sylus lets out an amused laughed, he leans in to capture a kiss on the lips, as a reward.

She giggles in respond, enjoying the affection that is centered towards her, then she blinked. "Remembering my skin care details...that's, oddly romantic don't you think?"

"I’m an attentive husband sweetie, you wound me."

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head, her hand leaving the pan handle for a moment to hold her husband's much more larger hand, intertwining it.

"Alright, alright, My sweet Attentive Husband. Since you memorize my skincare so much, let’s put it to good use later."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that was how Sylus Qin, feared criminal mafia lord boss, ruler of an Onychinus, a man who had taken lives without blinking—

Found himself lying on their shared bed, a white facemask plastered onto his eye skin.

She giggled beside him, applying serum to his face with gentle strokes. "You have really good skin for someone who never does this," she mused. "I swear, it’s unfair."

Sylus, eyes closed, let out a pleased hum. "It’s because my wife keeps touching me all the time. I absorb your glow."

She snorted. "That’s not how skincare works, Sysy."

"It is if I say it is."

She laughed, trailing her fingers over his cheek, smoothing the mask in place. He looked so content, his usual sharp, dangerous demeanour completely replaced with lazy, pampered bliss.

(Name) grinned, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "You, my love, are the most ridiculous husband in existence."

Sylus smirked, cracking open one crimson eye. "And yet, you’re the one putting skincare on me."

"Because I love you."

His smirk softened, fingers reaching to lazily trail over her wrist. "And that, sweetie, is exactly why I let you touch me so freely."

In every world and every life, no one else could reach him—no one but his beloved, the only one who could touch him, tease him, challenge him, and claim his heart in every lifetime.

ANOTHERR MAGNUM OPUS INSPIRED CHAPTERRR i love magnum opus so sos os ososo much guys help its concerning, i'll publish the inlaws fic tmrw because i need to revise sum *sigh

[comatosebunny09]

good morning, indeed | sylus

— summary: sylus wakes you up in the best way (with head). — cw: female reader, female anatomy described, cunnilingus, nipple sucking, slight somno, fingering, praise, p-in-v, language, bodily fluids, fade-to-black, soft, lazy mornings with the love of your life, mdni — wc: 1.2k — notes: a consequence of listening to j-hope’s mona lisa on repeat. hope you like it!

You awaken with a moan swelling in your throat. Arch your back off the mattress, hands instinctively flying down to find the source of your abrupt wake-up call. 

Your fingers meet a soft mop of hair. You open an eye, and irises that gleam like wildfires stare back, lidded, lethal.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he husks around your nipple before drawing it back into his mouth, sucking in a way that robs you of your voice.

That pleasant feeling returns, spooling low and hot between your legs. Instinctively, you try to clamp your legs shut, but he’s a heavy mass between them, keeping you anchored to the bed whilst he rolls his tongue over your pebbled peak with a groan that reminds you of thunder.

He rolls the other between worn finger pads, paying homage to it in a way that imitates his mouth. It’s maddening, and it feels so good. So good, you arch again, your hips surging, mouth parting with a quiet exhale. 

Your tongue coils around his name, a sweet supplication offered to the early morning haze falling over your bedroom, and you curl your fingers in his hair, fastening him to you. 

He chuckles, low, throaty, sinister, and you’re remiss of the hot suction of his mouth when he releases your nipple with an obscene pop. You’re caught on a whine, a pout, but he doesn’t keep you in suspense, that wonderful mouth grazing over your sternum to pull your other nipple between his lips.

“Fuck,” you sigh through quivering lips, undulating your hips to bump your pussy against the rigid planes of his chest. Something. Anything, seeking a bit of friction to curb the ache. The need clawing its way up your stomach, furling in your chest. 

Delirious. You’re so deliciously out of your mind, a writhing, rolling mess of incoherencies. All for him, just for him. And he knows the unfair advantage he has over you, huffing a sound, a hot breath, when he releases your nipple, dragging his teeth over it, down, down, down the ripples of your ribcage. 

You shiver, peering through the bleary fog. Take in those pretty eyes, that beautiful hair, that lovely flush dusting his cheeks and ears. In a steady creep, he trails his lips further southward past your naval, never once relinquishing eye contact, and you can’t breathe. 

Your legs part intuitively for him, and he draws your trembling thighs onto virile shoulders. You hold your breath in anticipation, his name leaving you in a scant whine when he spreads you nice and open with a sweltering, flattened tongue.

He groans into your pussy as if you’re the sweetest thing to grace his tongue. And he’s bewitched by the taste of you, by your earthy scent crowding his senses, by the way your legs shake, your heels digging into the pockets of his back.

“Taste so good, baby,” he rasps, fond, dark, diving in for another taste. Another sample, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. 

You buck up in response, voice strained, needy, your fingers possessive on his scalp as you selfishly shove him deeper into your muff. He groans, thankful for the meal, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves of ecstasy throughout your body.

He’s so pretty like this, limned by the lazy spill of sunlight, hips shrouded by the delicate whisper of your bedsheet, watching you through love-drunk eyes, feasting on you as if you’re the last thing he’ll ever have. He moors you to his mouth, hands wide and sturdy at the cuts of your thighs, keeping you nice and open.

You shake, tossing your head from side to side on the pillow, panting, sobbing. It’s too much, yet not enough. His tongue is magical. Worshipful, spreading you open, undoing you with licks that alternate between long stripes up the span of your cunt and fervent flicks at your clit.

You lose it when he slips two thick fingers into the tight clench of your cunt, and he matches the rhythm of his mouth suckling on your clit, pumping in and out of you, slowly disconnecting your mind from your body.

He curls his fingers upwards in a come hither motion, agitating that tender, spongy spot inside that has phosphenes dancing behind your lids. Your teeth clench, a moan ripped from between, your hips rolling, painting a rhythm of their own accord.

“So good for me,” he breathes between his delightful torture, “so sweet.” 

You tighten your grip on his hair, that sparkling feeling stewing between your legs, evoked by his ministrations. By his attention, and he feasts on you with renewed vigor, groaning in tandem with your sweet, pleasured whimpering, the new cadence of his tongue putting his previous efforts to shame. 

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he dotes after drawing away from your sticky cunt, fingers twisting, digging, scissoring, curling. 

You can do nothing but nod, the English language eluding you, your mind so delightfully gone, nebulous, trained only to the feel of his breath. To the sensation of his fingers, to the smoky texture of his voice.

“Cum for me,” he croons, “give it to me,” before his mouth seals to your pussy once more. And as if commanded, you fall apart on his tongue, your voice crackling as your hips surge upward, thighs locking around his face, your fingers brutally pulling on his hair. 

He licks you through it, tortuously withdrawing his fingers from the opulent suction of your pussy, his tongue insistent at your opening, milking you of your nectar. Greedily lapping you up until the stimulation is too much, and you’re shaking, straining on the tips of your toes whilst the rush tremors through you, and the blinding white slides away.

He steadies you with palms cupped around your ass, gently lowering you down to the mattress. Kisses your cunt, and you shiver, a few gossamer strings of cum linking his mouth to you. You’re so beautiful in the afterglow; breaths labored, lips curving up in a tired smile, laughing, hiding your face behind your hand.

He blisters ticklish kisses up the curve of your stomach, ending his excursion at your lips, covering you so wholly with his pleasantly warm body, pinning one of your hands overhead. The tang of your cunt mixed with the natural flavor of his mouth dredges a satisfied moan from your chest, fingers sifting through his locks in a quiet apology for being so rough before.

“Mmm, what was that for?” you query amid the sticky click of your mouths.

He hums something fond, slotting himself between your aching thighs, his girth still molten and hard, dripping pre-spend onto your skin.

“Consider it my own special way of waking you up,” he says, rucking up your hips until your legs naturally encircle his waist. 

You blink owlishly until you sense what he’s up to, and you bite your lip, eyes sliding shut, a devious chuckle drawn out when he rubs the distended head of his cock between your pussy lips, coating himself with your slick.

“Can you give me one more, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes intense yet pleading. Pretty lashes, swollen lips, chin still shining with your essence. 

You could never say no to him, and you nod wordlessly, sighing hot and wanton when he eases his way home, a pretty groan lured from his chest. He pins both your hands overhead, twining your fingers together, and rooting his nose into the crook of your shoulder, wholly prepared to consume your entire morning.

[abyssyby]

where the light touches

— a cold war brews between you and sylus in the trenches of the night; mornings are for making amends.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: so the dragon's hoard photo album on sylus's phone drabble has been running in my mind since i wrote it, and now that post might just be another masterlist. magnum opus is a godsend and i just love his laugh, i wanna hear him giggle and laugh forever okay ( ;´ - `;) a little origin story of some videos that are saved in his "sleeping 📂" album. this is part one. enjoy! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | fluff, comfort, giggly!sylus, overdramatic!reader (we love them), banter, morning cuddles

You rise with the sun. It has always been this way. Whether it’s tendrils seeping in through the curtains just as the planet turns to face Helios caressing you gently or it blasting you the heat of its full concentration by noon, you will rise in the day. 

Sylus rises with the moon. Something you’ve envied. A more tranquil beginning to wake underneath the gentle caress of a radiant pearl, to the silence of the world. He acts accordingly as well, unhurried and unperturbed by the bustle of life. Calm and collected, a sharp contrast to your energetic and flurried morning body. A more peaceful existence.

And yet, he insists on rising with you. 

Heat wakes you this morning, but not from the angry ball of gas in the sky. No, this is warmth. An internal, direct sensation that radiates from behind, from another body, another soul.

Your eyes open slowly to the gradience of the emerging sun. Darkened values of the world edging carefully with its celestial hue. A reflexive worry grips at you. Hammer to a tendon, your muscles twitch to stand— toward the curtains. To draw them closed before it all becomes blinding. 

But the vice-like grip around your waist keeps you in place. An indignant grumble tickles the hairs on the nape of your neck and sends shivers down your spine. Sleepy, raspy, deep. “Stop.” 

Still tangled in the webs of your own fatigue, you respond. “The windows—“ 

“Leave them.” he sighs, like a formidable ancient creature, and strengthens his hold around you. In one smooth motion, he flips you both from your spot. Now, his back is to the light and you are shielded from it. An instinct-driven movement, to keep you from something that he cannot stand. 

Then comes the realization that you bask in this, and so he flattens himself to the mattress ever so slightly so that the light touches your features just so. Through his half-lidded gaze, he takes pride in the decision, watching your majesty glow like molten gold. 

Sylus has sensitive eyes. You know this, you’ve seen it before, when you idled too much after waking to watch him sleep. Meanwhile, the light had slithered in through the windowed walls. Silken features scrunch, a deep crease formed between his brows, and a sizzling wince escaped his lips. 

You were quick to kiss the pain away, thinking it was nightmares that plagued him. But when his lips curled and he met you with squinted eyes that smiled just as divinely at the corners, you realize the transgressor was more luminescent than haunting. 

You stay, then, in his arms. Cocooned perfectly like he was made for you. Like you were two halves of the same whole. 

And he holds you. Like you were made for him to. Quietly, stubbornly— unwilling to let the morning steal you from him just yet. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Waking is a slow process on the rare days when the world does not call upon you. A collection of soft kisses and gentle whispers; quiet intentions and passionate touches. You are never angry, never troubled, not when the soul—yours and his—is complete. 

He mourns you when you draw away from him— “gotta pee”. After his dramatic protests, your efforts of being free from his fly-paper grasp and your cat-like fists pushing at his chest to “let me go! or i’ll go right here!”, he eventually relents and you waddle over the cold marble floors to your throne.

Alone, he sits up in bed and takes in the light that consumes the room with an irritated scowl. It urges him to catch the duvet that had fallen to his bare waist and pull it over his head. Under the covers, he checks his phone. 

Messages from the twins reporting on a finished mission (to which he replies a clipped ‘ok’). Offers from business partners he had little to no interest in. Invitations to auctions and galas. Updates on the available plushies at your favorite arcade this week. Incident reports. 

Trivial. Unnecessary. Boring. 

Until he finds one— buried amongst them all— so glaringly different and alarming. A text message, sent four hours ago— from you. 

Curious, he opens your thread of messages. 

Beloved: How could you do this to me You will pay. This is unforgivable

And before he even has the time to panic, he scrolls to see the video attached to it. Its obscure darkness and suspicious angle does nothing to deter him.  

And as it plays, he cannot hold back his smile. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The mound on your bed is laughing. Jostled wine, spilling at the edges of glass. Breathy, rich and smooth; rare and familiar all at once. Signature exhale, fond and effortful, clear as the giggling ends. 

You crawl over the covers, towards the trembling hump and poke at where his head should be. The veil comes off, and mirthful rubies meet your inquisitive gaze. You take in his grin, and then the phone in his hand, “What’s so funny? Can I see?” 

Air meets your hand where the phone should be after your attempt at a grab. He looks annoying, looking at you like that: like he knows something you don’t. Dopey heart-eyes with an edge. Unconsciously, you pout, which fuels his mischievous fire. “What’s is it?” 

Buttering him up is a sight for him to behold. You curl around him, fitting yourself under the weight of his arm and kissing his jaw to convince him to give it up. A cat seeking comfort. A snake strangling its prey. “Tell me.” 

And the melody starts again, hitching in his chest and shaking you whose cheek rests on his shoulder. He cannot fathom how you could be everything he’s ever wished for— how could you be quick-witted, clever, strong, courageous and hilarious? You’re adorable and so, so funny. 

“Aren’t you fuming with anger?” he’s breathless. You’ve never seen him so. “Aren’t I just evil? Vile?” 

You pause. What? Why would he say that? Why is he saying it in a way that implies you should know what it means? “Sylus, I don’t…” 

At the hesitant look on your face, complete with twinkling puppy-dog eyes and a slightly jutted lip, he can’t help but lean in and kiss your forehead. White flag raised, because he is helpless to a power like you. He pulls you close, and finally shows you the video.  

Brightness is all the way up and, on the edge, you see him toggle with the volume too. The video starts with you being attacked by the front facing flash. You wince, but then go straight into your very serious, very important lamenting.

“Look at you,” you murmur, the sound scratching against your throat as if still crawling away from the grasp of a dream. The focus shifts to Sylus, fast asleep, burrito-ed in the large comforter. Love of your life, tether to the world; giant larvae. “Evil… vile.” 

The last word you grate through your teeth with so much venom, one would assume he’d betrayed you. 

It crosses your mind though, as you watch, how deeply he was sleeping. How untroubled and peaceful he looked, no matter how much you shook him around in your own frenzied irritation. When usually, he’d wake fully at the sound of your breath hitching from a nightmare.

In the video, you continue: face close to his own, pressing your lips to his cheek because it was mandatory. His lips twitch but he shows no signs of waking. “Tsk. I’m mad. I’m cold? I’m cold and I’m mad. Count your days.” 

The video ends. Beneath it, you read your equally vehement text messages. Sent 2:43 AM. 

Sylus is laughing again, subtly pulling you closer to apologize while the memory comes back to you in vague waves of annoyance.

Waking up shivering, feeling for the blanket, feeling for him— finding both out of reach. You prying the edge from under his large body— how the hell did he manage to roll in it at least twice?— settling for pressing your cold feet underneath his warm calves and praying your torso doesn’t freeze overnight as sleep captures your ire and douses the flames for then. 

But this is now. 

“Darling—“ he wheezes at your bewilderment. Lips pressing to your hair fondly, over and over. Likely getting that thing he feels he’d just learned the term for— aggression. Cuteness aggression.  

Unfortunately for him, it all rushes back. The fire is blazing, scalding. “Oh, I’m mad.” 

And he fears for his life behind the imprints of crowfeet on the corners of his teary eyes. Ever one to play with his own life, he still pushes. “Are you?” 

“You hog!” A quick attack. You whack his face with a pillow and he’s cackling. The thought of stopping and relishing in his bellyaching, carefree laughter crosses your mind for a split second, before you’re climbing his waist and squeezing the smooth skin of his hollow cheeks. “You left me to freeze!” 

“I didn’t know, sweetie.” He’s gorgeous when he speaks between chuckles. Speech bursting like hiccups of devotion. 

“What are you, a rock? I was pulling so much and— nothing!” 

He takes another blow. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“I tried.” You pause. You did. A little. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, not fully. Not when he sleeps terribly. Not when you’re the only rest he’s ever known. 

And he knows this, reads it in the way you falter. That look on your face that tells him you’re thinking about him, his wellbeing. Putting him first, still, through the haze of exhaustion; despite the blistering cold. Considering him and how he would feel to wake up in the sunlight you bathe in, sunlight he cannot stand if it were not for you. 

He doesn’t understand how you do this to him by just being. He fears how much you know him, how much he allows himself to be lured in and be exposed by you. When in the same breath, he’d lay his heart bare to you and hand you a dagger to do with it as you please.

He falls— deeply, effortlessly. Rolls in your affection twice over and more like he did in the blanket he stole in his sleep. Because just as easily as he did that with his eyes closed, he can so easily love you.

Fast, the pillow swings up by your arm, you strain to gain momentum to smack it down on his chest once more. Faster, his large hand catches your wrists in a vice, then he is pulling your face down to his. 

Laughter, both youthful and deep, bursts from his chest. His radiance ghosts over your cheek, weightless and warm. 

Just as you swoon in his joy, his heart aches at yours. It is the sun giving the moon light. The way you barely notice the wide smile on your face despite your desperate need to silence him in awkwardness. The way you try to reign in your strength with each strike despite knowing he can take the brunt of it. The way you look on top of him. The way the weight of you grounds him to this earth. The way you are so shamelessly you in this moment— he can’t help but reflect you, revere you. 

Meanwhile, you’re lovestruck and dumb. So beautiful, you think, about the hollowed dimples on his cheeks, about the curve of his relaxed smile— about the enemy. He is the enemy. 

And the enemy has soulful eyes, sorrowful as they are loving. The enemy tastes the sweetest when he is kissing your embarrassment to silence, when he is whispering, “I’m sorry.” 

You hum in defeat, melting in his affection, utterly human. Flawed and weak in the face of love. 

“I’m sorry.” He says again, slower. The words sighed against your lips. Mouth embracing yours tenderly to let you know he means it.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

[sylfhia]

But Sylus, you are my princess.

Original

[novthirty]

🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [series masterlist]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn

a/n — turning this story into a multi-chap for sylus’s 2025 bday! to those who asked to be tagged under the one-shot, i’ve already included you in the taglist here ❤️ just lmk if you’d like to be added/removed!

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open!

CHAPTER ONE — DESCENT

after finding yourself in an unfortunate accident, you wake up in the world of love and deepspace. you go from burned out college student to secretary at your wit's end. wc: 4k

CHAPTER TWO — PENDULUM

coming soon!

CHAPTER THREE — COUNTDOWN

coming soon!

CHAPTER FOUR — INEVITABLE

coming soon!

CHAPTER FIVE — HORIZON

coming soon!

EPILOGUE — AFTERGLOW

coming soon!

—————————————————————

feel free to comment/dm if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist 💕

taglist — @mangooes @mentaltrouble2201 @animegamerfox @w1nter-n1ght @crazy-ink-artist @phisen @jeondyy @t4naiis @wifunozomi @munimunni @blessdunrest @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @paintedperidot @mansonofmadness @pillarofsnow @sylususeyourevolonmepls @angelichiaro @mephisto-with-a-knife @crimsonmarabou @hikaru-sama @flamedancer13 @tati-the-fangirl @ameili @poptrim @caramelizedpopcirn @cupid-gene @vvonunie @miuraaaa12 @lunia-likes-pomegranet @iamawkwardandshy

[lads-ficrecs]

LADS recommendations done by others ────୨ৎ────

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. These are recommendation lists made by other users. Since I might not be able to find all the fics about lads, here's some lists made by other lads fans; you might find something new.

For more information, see the Pinned Post here! Also check out the author list here!

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Sylus fanfiction recommendations by @celestialgojo

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Wall of fame by @writingastory

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Sylus fic recommendations by @tsukimirecs

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Hybrid AU fanfic recommendations by @grabby-smitten

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Lads fic recs by @joy-laufeyson

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Sylus fic recommendations by @joy-laufeyson

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Love and Deepspace fic recs by @sylusdarling

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Love & Deepspace Masterlist by @solifloris

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Caleb fic recommendations by @joy-laufeyson

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. AO3 lads Fic Recs Jan-Feb 2025 by @circecyerce

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. LADS fic recs by @juiceeypeach

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬 by @swissschees3

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Rafayel fic recs by @us3r999999

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Love and deepspace Rec list by @linkonlceleste

Credits for the divider goes to @omi-resources !

[bluesidez]

Sylus is secure.

Secure in his position, secure in his status, secure in his person. It doesn’t matter how the world sees him because he knows who he is. No bounty is too high and no expectation is too grand for someone like him.

Yet, it all crumbles at the faintest idea of you not being able to see him.

You’re supposed to resonate with him. You’re supposed to recognize him. You’re supposed to remember what you two have been through.

The look in your eyes, the fear they hold, and uncertainty of it all is too much to bear.

The voice that once sang him to sleep is shaking trying to appear strong.

He left his soul within your grasps, but as tries to reach for your fingertips, he can feel the ends of world slip away. You’re not recognizing his dreams anymore. Those nightmares have come back to haunt you.

Though you can’t see him, he can see right through you.

That uncertainty scares him.

me patiently waiting for Sylus’s myth rerun :3

divider by: strangergraphics

[nezuswritingdesk]

A/n: just remembered that I didn't get to introduce the youngest out of Sylus' kids! I'm too lazy to make a separate post so he'll be added here after his big sisters!

Inspired by : @tbaluver @starmocha @abyssyby

ninang @deusfoundry (aly) who probably wants to meet her inaanak no. 10

Same warning content as above and all!

wc: 543 words

Headcanons about the youngest son!

his name is seth (sylus picked it)

currently 10 months old and does 10 month old baby things

he's seven years younger than the twins. why the seven years? because sylus believes in quality over quantity (he wanted to treat his princesses well before adding a new baby into the picture)

Sylus had loved him since. He managed to repurpose his old girls' nursery, modified the crib to make sure it was sturdy (just in case he or you or the girls want to join him inside the crib lol). Is a constant and has been by your side since

was born at sunset (the girls had just gotten home from extra-curriculars, only to find their tiny baby brother wrapped up in a blanket with a tiny hat and their parents)

the first thing you all did as a now family of 5? dinner (aka breakast for sylus aka had a nice meal and ate)

he likes to walk around or at least try to and his sisters help him by letting him hold their hands

has a blackhole for a stomach (like his dad)

has fat baby cheeks— which sylus lovingly bites (like he does with his big sisters when they were tiny babies too)

Does try to talk for attention (a lot like Asteria)

he's been attached to his big sisters so much

Likes to sleep on sylus’ chest too

Sylus is also making his special mechanical birdie. He's been making it since you got pregnant again , and the girls, especially Nyx, had been helping him. He'll get that when he turns one year old.

Hes basically the little baby when his big sisters play house

Loves being carried on his papa's shoulders

Has baby teeth🥺🥺 (3, almost 4 to be exact)

In terms of appearance, baby seth looks exactly like you in every shape and form.

gets called ugly by asteria (as a joke)

nyx defends him

dont be fooled he is chaos incarnate like his namesake

this baby didn't spend most of his time sleeping. hes chaotic but has good intentions, well as good as a baby can get

also adored and fought by his uncles

his baby teeth is starting to growwww

and now sylus has to deal with a teething baby and girls who are in the process of losing teeth

mephisto is still the main and designated baby monitor but the twin girls asked if they can get their birdies modified too so that they can watch over their baby brother

the annual family picture just got a bit more better and cuter (note that family picture now includes you, sylus, the tiny twins (nyx and asteria) , mephi, the twins' birdies, the big twins (luke and keiran), and seth)

now with your boy as the new addition, you and sylus are satisfied. this, in a million lifetimes and circumstances, is the best thing you both have. the world can change, they can put a number on sylus' head, but so long as the children smile and rush to him with open arms, calling him daddy or papa,he knows that it is the most precious thing he has.

there is no love purer than his for the family he built with you.

a/n: finally done with the introduction of sylus' littles ! im doing this to procrastinate on xavier's kids. maybe i will get theirs out on april if i dont forget

sylus parenting au

A/N: sigh, here we go! Girl dad sylus!!! Will try to put the headcanons in chronological order. ALSO WTF DO YOU MEAN TUMBLR POSTED MY DRAFT?!

content warning: pregnancy? family stuff? babies? might cause possible baby fever (KIDS ARE EXPENSIVE. BE RESPONSIBLE.)

Inspired by : @tbaluver @starmocha and every sylus girl dad thing I've seen since (will update here still)

wc: 1.0k

I believe that we all agreed as a fandom that Sylus is a girl dad, I firmly believe that it is in his DNA to be a girl dad to the two most well-loved, spoiled, and protected girls of the N109. He is a happy father of two identical twin girls 🥰🥰 ( their temporary names are Nyx and Asteria)

Sylus had loved these girls since the start of their little lives. He was there for every appointment, every shopping trip when you wanted to buy things for the babies, he helped assemble their cribs, prepared the nursery, etc

The twin girls were born before dawn (aka the usual sleeping time of sylus. He didn't sleep because he stayed up all night to keep you company as the twins arrived). Nyx was born first, and minutes later, Asteria came along.

Absolute sylus clones. Tiny little ladies that look exactly like Sylus.

He cried when he held his daughters for the first time— how can a man like him , a man known for his strength and cruelty, the damn leader of Onychinus, with so much blood in his hands, hold such innocent little lives?

You assured him that the girls don't see him like that. He was their father and he means the world to their small little minds.

Once everything has calmed down, the first thing all four of you did was sleep until noon or the early afternoon. The twin girls called you and their father's chests home.

The twins sleep like otters, always holding hands to never separate.

They are nocturnal creatures like their father dear! When you were recovering and the twins were being fussy at ungodly hours, Sylus would take care of the girls (plus you, ofc you're just as important).

Sylus likes to have skin-to-skin contact with the babies and in turn, the babies like sleeping on his chest throughout

Most days were really spent sleeping. They're sweet little competitive babies, they like their playtime and would do things together. Nyx waits for Asteria and Asteria waits for Nyx.

Please don't separate the twins ever, they will cry. Nyx will fuss if her baby sister isn't in her line of bad baby vision and Asteria will scream if she can't see Nyx.

He can distinguish which twin is which. Nyx has his prominent nose while Asteria has bigger cheeks but to mess around with you , he likes to swap the babies.

Nyx acts like Sylus. Asteria acts like you.

The twins have a favorite uncle individually. They will fight or pout at the other twin when they're spending too much time with their favorite uncle. Asteria likes uncle Keiran and Nyx likes uncle Luke. The uncles enables the girls to let chaos reign.

Mephisto is the baby monitor. No need to expand on this.

Sylus has been making them their own little mephisto's since you both found about that you were pregnant. The birds are based on orioles and we're gifts to the twins on their first birthday. They loved the birds since.

Sylus knows how to dress his daughters! And he dresses them good! He likes giving Nyx the crow onesie (because it matched her grumpy little pouty face) and Asteria gets the smiley dino onesie (because it matches her big baby cheeks and her smile) and sometimes he'd match their clothes or complement theirs

Sylus has nibbled their cheeks multiple times , they girls would giggle and cup his face in their tiny hands

Sylus sings and reads poetry to them to help them sleep or calm down. (He has been doing this since you got pregnant)

Their first word is papa! (It happened when Sylus got home from another business trip and the twins were eager to reunite with him so they immediately walked up to him and began to call him papa.) Sylus broke down crying even more.

Nyx calls Asteria "Ria" and Asteria calls Nyx "Nixie"

They'd always drag someone in the base to play with and have tea time where they act like sylus during his business deals. (the unwilling willing participants: sylus, the twins, mephisto, their orioles, mama reader (but mama reader is willing)

There was one time that tea time was just them two, their orioles, and Mephisto , they even dressed them up.

Very much spoiled girls by you both. They can be picking out dresses or things they like and sylus will be like, "Just one, sweetheart? You can get a second or a third, it'll be fine baby." They definitely swapped and stole each other's clothes

I firmly believe that Sylus is the one that really indulges their requests. He's financially stable, has a good job, and finally has people who'd love and appreciate him. While you're the one trying to remind him not to spoil them too much or they'll end up as brats

Nyx and Asteria are little songbirds — they sing very nicely and like to duet together but they don't have the heart to tell their beloved daddy that he cant sing (lol jk asteria is like daddy you can't sing don't do it and nyx is like daddy my ears hurt from your singing 🥺)

Sylus? do you mean their jungle gym?

as the girls got older, they become more independent and sylus and you teach them necessary life skills

their evols (if they have one) complement each other and was made to protect the other

sylus taught them martial art skills and boxing when the girls were much older to protect themselves besides the use of evols and weapons

their baby brother was born when the twins were around 7 or 8. this little boy is very well loved and protected by his sisters like their lives dependent on it. he looks like you with a small sprinkle of sylus here and there

they have family pictures every year since you and sylus got married — first it was just you two, then a bump carrying the twins, then the twin girls as babies, as toddlers and little kids, you carrying your third child, and now, the three lovely children

at the end of the day, all of the children are well-loved and adored by sylus and you. they are the reason why you two kept going in life, why it was kinder and much softer and thought it wasn't perfect, everything is enough.

a/n : wtf tumblr posted this without me knowing :( I didn't even know it was posted 😭😭 anyways I hope you enjoy this! hope to get the Caleb and zayne papa aus soon! reblogs and everything is appreciated by me thank you 💖💖

[monopersona]

Slip of the Tongue

"Let me take care of you." They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And then the words just slip out of her mouth. The one where she accidentally says I love you.

Sylus x MC (Lili). Fluff, mild emotional h/c, Sylus taking care of his stubborn injured girlfriend because he really loves her or whatever. 2224 words. A/N: Hello! I am back with another Sylus fic. Not going to lie, this one took a few rewrites. The emotional aspect from MC/Lili's part felt more challenging for me to explore now that I'm just dipping my toes back into writing after a while. But that's why we practice, right? Hope you enjoy this one!

You can read on ao3 here

Series masterlist here

It had been a long day. A skirmish with wanderers near the N109 Zone had left Lili sore and exhausted. To make matters worse, she’d sprained her ankle so severely that she was now confined to a walking boot for the next two weeks. The doctor had excused her from work, too, which only added to her frustration. She hated being sidelined. It made her feel useless. 

By the time she stumbled through her apartment door, all she wanted was to collapse and forget the day had ever happened. She plopped onto her couch, not bothering to do anything else. Her stomach grumbled in protest, but the thought of cooking seemed unbearable after today’s ordeal. She decided she could hold off until morning—at least until she woke up and felt any better.

It was eight at night when the doorbell rang and jolted her awake. Lili groaned, her body protesting as she slowly sat up. She was groggy, starving, and still in pain. Perhaps delaying food hadn’t been the best idea after all. Still, she needed to get to the door because whoever was out front rang the bell again.

“One minute,” she called out, wincing as she limped her way to the door. 

“Hello, sweetie.”

Of course, it was Sylus. Dressed in his biker jacket over a black shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly charming. And of course, he was holding a bag from her favorite restaurant—the very one she’d been craving all week but hadn’t had the time nor energy to visit.

Lili could feel her heart skip a beat, but she was too tired to muster more than a weak smile and a meek, “Hi.” 

Sylus’s sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in her disheveled appearance, the walking boot, and obvious signs of fatigue. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“A little birdie told me you got injured,” he said, his tone light but laced with concern as he made his way to the kitchen counter. “I had to see for myself because someone hasn’t been answering my calls or texts.” 

Though his words were teasing, Lili felt guilt gnawing at her. “I’m sorry, Sylus. I came home and passed out on the couch. I didn’t even hear my phone.” 

Sylus hummed in acknowledgment, his smile softening as he pulled out containers of soup from the bag. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not here to chastise you. I was worried, but I get it—you’re exhausted. Let me take care of you. Sit down.” 

Lili opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a finger. “No arguments. Sit. Rest.”

She hesitated, her pride in active battle with her need for comfort right now because all she wanted to do was curl under a blanket and cry, but even doing that would be too much of a chore right now. “I can handle myself, you know,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. Sylus raised an eyebrow at her as he transferred the soup into a bowl.

“Of course you can,” Sylus said smoothly, carrying the bowl of soup to her along with a spoon. It was still steaming hot, much to Lili’s delight. “But I’m here, and I’d like to do it for you. Humor me.” When he finally joined her, he held a spoonful of the soup to her lips. 

Lili couldn’t help but squint at him. “You do know it’s my ankle that’s injured and not my arms, right?” 

“I can definitely see that.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “So you just like feeding people?”

“I like taking care of you.” 

Lili’s breath caught. The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, without hesitation—left her with a fleeting feeling she can’t really describe, but it’s one she has felt many times under his gaze. She wanted to resist. She wanted to insist she didn’t need doting on, but truthfully, she was too drained to fight him on it. So she rolled her eyes but complied, letting him feed her. The soup was warm and comforting, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered between sips. 

“So you tell me often. Yet here you are, letting me feed you,” he shot back, grinning. She couldn’t argue with that. 

Sylus fed her spoonfuls of soup, teasing her when she tried to insist she could hold the spoon herself every now and then.

Once Lili had finished the soup, Sylus set the empty bowl aside and turned his attention back to her. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Lili blinked. "What?"

He stood up, offering his hand. "You’ve been knocked out all day, and you probably feel dirty. I’ll help you bathe and change into fresh clothes."

Heat flooded up Lili’s face again. “I can manage, you know!”

"I know you can. But it’s easier with help and you’re exhausted.” 

“It's... weird." 

Lili hesitated. The proposal felt entirely embarrassing, but there is also the undeniable truth that she really did feel gross. Still, the idea of Sylus helping her bathe made her stomach twist with nervousness. Lili had never been shy with Sylus for the most part. They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability, stripped down not just physically but emotionally, too. Maybe that was why she hesitated. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he stated, and that should’ve made it easier. It didn’t. If anything, it made her feel more exposed. Because this wasn’t about what he would see, this was about how she felt.

Lili’s eyes widened and she swatted his arm lightly. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “I’ll be a gentleman and I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, but just know I’m here to help if you want it.” That also didn’t make it less embarrassing, but she knew she needed to get this over with anyway. So she finally decided to let him help her to the bathroom.

True to his word, Sylus was gentle and efficient. He helped her take off her walking boot and undress with ease; never lingering too long, never making her feel anything less than safe. His touch was steady and firm where it needed to be as he guided her into the warm water. Lili’s face burned the entire time, but Sylus remained unfazed, even playfully flicking water at her when she got too quiet.

"You’re overthinking again," he mused, rinsing out the last bits of shampoo from her hair.

"Am not," she mumbled.

"You scrunch your nose when you do. It’s cute."

Lili groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Sylus, please." She wished she could just drown in the water right now and teleport to another room. 

"Alright, alright, I’ll behave," he teased, helping her out and wrapping her in a fluffy towel. Once she was dried off, he put on her walking boot and handed her a fresh set of clothes before turning around while she changed.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed and feeling almost human again, Sylus looked her over with a satisfied nod. "Much better. Now, let's get you comfortable in bed.”

Sylus made her a cup of tea, fluffed the pillows behind her, and draped a blanket over her legs. He even propped her injured ankle on a cushion, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. 

“You don’t have to do all this."

“I know,” Sylus replied, sitting beside her. “But I want to. You’d do the same for me.” 

Lili swallowed. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She wanted to argue, to push him away with some dry remark about not needing a babysitter or distract herself with some back and forth banter. But the truth was, she didn’t want him to leave her side.

She was used to handling things alone. Taking care of herself, picking herself up when she fell, gritting through pain until it dulled into something she could manage. She was strong—she had to be. Especially after her grandmother died. But having Sylus here with nothing but warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his touch, that strength wavered. Not in a way that made her feel weak, but in a way that made her realize she didn’t have to carry everything alone.

It was strange, this feeling. Allowing herself to be cared for, knowing she was safe enough to let her guard down. But it wasn’t bad. In fact, it felt good. Comfortable. Like something she had been denying herself for far too long. She finally exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders loosen. She will accept this. She will choose to lean on him.

They spent the next few hours talking—about her injury, his day, and everything in between. At some point, they went on to play a few competitive rounds of kitty cards, with Lili coming out as the champion each time. 

By the time midnight rolled around, Sylus knew he had to head home. Lili insisted on seeing him to the door despite his protests. 

“You should be resting.”

“I’ve been resting all night, thanks to you,” she replied, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ll be fine. Besides, someone has to lock the door.” 

They stood there, the air between them charged. Lili crossed her arms loosely over her chest, a soft smile playing on her lips. Meanwhile, Sylus lingered, a hand in his pocket as the other held on to the jacket he took off hours ago. She knew he was reluctant to go. She didn’t want him to go, either. But she didn't know how to say it.

“Thank you for tonight,” Lili said. “I had a great time.” 

“Me too,” Sylus replied, his eyes holding hers. “I’ll see you soon?” 

Lili nodded, her smile widening. “Definitely.” There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with words left unsaid. 

“Good night, Lili.”

“Good night, Sylus.”

He turned to leave, and that’s when it happened. 

“I love you,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. 

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. Sylus stopped in his tracks, his back still to her, and Lili’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she’d just said. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, the mortification that had melted away hours ago coming back in full force again. Without another word, she slammed the door shut, leaning against it as her heart raced too much for her liking. What did I just do? she thought, pressing her hands to her face. Why did I say that?!

Outside, Sylus stood frozen. I love you. His mind replayed her words over and over. A small smile spread across his face. He had known for a long time that he loved her—had known it since the first moment he saw her, even when she’d hated him. He knew it in the way his chest tightened when she smiled, in the way he found himself thinking about her even when she wasn’t around. He had just been waiting for her to be ready. And now, it seemed that she was. Even if she only realized it at this very moment.

Without thinking, he turned back to the door and knocked knowing well that she was still behind the door. Lili’s heart nearly stopped at the sound. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Maybe if I just pretend I’m not here…

The knock was heard again, more insistent this time. With a groan, Lili opened the door just a crack, her face peeking out the tiniest bit as she kept her gaze downward. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Yes?” she said, her voice higher-pitched than usual. 

Sylus didn’t say a word. He simply pushed the door open gently, stepped inside, and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could protest, he captures her lips in a kiss. He poured his heart into it—into her. Deeply. Passionately. Lovingly. He would leave no room for doubt. 

Lili’s mind went blank, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as she kissed him back with the same fiery intensity. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. 

“I love you, too,” Sylus said, his voice rough but steady. 

Lili blinked up at him, so relieved but also still in shock. “You… you do?” 

He nodded, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I do. I always have. Have I ever made you feel otherwise?” 

A slow smile spread across her face, the embarrassment finally melting away once again. “Well, no.” 

Sylus chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.” 

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other, before Sylus spoke again. “I’m staying here tonight, if you don’t mind.” 

Lili looked at him with the softest of smiles. “I don’t mind at all.” A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic and are having a great day/night! Please feel free to let me know what you thought of the fic. I'd love any constructive feedback!

[mangooes]

The Great (Unnecessary) Divorce Incident (sylus x non mc!wife reader)

(Name) had seen many things in her life—assassinations, high-speed chases, and even Sylus smiling while he was about to kill someone. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had ever prepared her for what she saw today.

She had been out shopping, minding her own business, when she casually passed by a jewelry store. And there, through the crystal-clear glass, she saw her husband.

Sylus.

Laughing.

With Miss Hunter.

Not just any chuckle, either. A full, amused, joyful laugh.

She blinked.

There he was, leaning close, looking at a ring as Miss Hunter teased him. His crimson eyes crinkled with laughter, his white hair slightly tousled, his expression soft.

She had never seen him that happy in a store before.

And that’s when it hit her.

Sylus must love Miss Hunter.

And honestly?

She thought it was hilarious.

Oh, what a plot twist! I fought off bounty hunters for this man, and now he falls for my best friend?

She didn’t even feel heartbroken. The absurdity of the situation was just too much.

Smirking to herself, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Time to give Sylus what he wanted after all, his freedom.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Name) wasn’t a petty woman.

Okay, maybe she was a little bit petty.

But she wasn’t cruel! If Sylus really loved Miss Hunter, who was she to stand in his way?

And so, being the incredibly mature person she was, she went home and got right to work.

Step 1: She wrote a heartfelt goodbye letter, kinda-

It went something like this:

To my dearest, soon-to-be-ex-husband, First of all, I want you to know I am not mad. If anything, I find this situation absolutely hilarious. You spent so much time chasing after me, and now look at you! Falling for my best friend! Life sure is funny, huh? Don’t worry, though. I won’t make this hard for you. I’ve signed the divorce papers and packed my bags. Be happy with Miss Hunter. Oh, and don’t forget to feed Staryus our little husky boy. He likes his meals warm, not cold. Unlike your now ex-wife. Yours formerly, (Name)

Step 2: She placed all the divorce documents on Sylus’s desk in a neat stack, right in the center.

Step 3: She packed her bags.

Or at least, she tried to.

Because the moment Luke and Kieran saw what she was doing, all hell broke loose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luke and Kieran stood at the doorway, arms spread wide, blocking the exit.

"Missus," Luke started, voice filled with pure panic. "I beg you. Think this through."

Kieran nodded furiously. "Boss is going to kill us if we let you leave!"

She sighed dramatically, shouldering her bag. "Boys, boys. No need to be so emotional. Sylus has moved on. He loves Miss Hunter now."

Luke stared at her. "What."

Kieran blinked. "What."

(Name) waved a hand. "Saw them laughing and picking out a ring together. He was so happy. It’s okay, I understand." She patted their shoulders. "You’ll take care of him for me, right?"

Luke looked horrified. "Missus, I think you need to sit down."

Kieran grabbed her arm. "I think you need a doctor."

She wiggled free. "Oh, hush. No need to be dramatic. Now, if you’ll excuse me—"

Luke and Kieran threw themselves in front of the door again.

"Missus, we physically cannot let you leave," Luke said, near tears.

"You can try," (Name) said sweetly.

And then she grabbed the nearest frying pan.

Luke and Kieran gasped.

"You wouldn’t," Kieran whispered.

She smirked.

"Sorry boys. Move, or I swear on Sylus’s secret hoard stash, I will—"

She swung.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran ended up dodging for their lives as (Name) escaped out the front door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sylus walked into his office, excited to finally surprise his wife.

After all, today was the day he had picked the perfect ring.

Miss Hunter had helped him choose something, as (Name)'s best friend, she knew her more than anyone else. Something elegant yet bold, something that screamed (Name). The entire reason he had been laughing so much in the store was because they had been joking about how dramatic his wife would be when she saw it.

But as soon as he stepped inside—

Luke and Kieran stood rigid, pale, and sweating bullets.

Sylus raised a brow. “What’s with the faces?”

Then he noticed the stack of papers on his desk.

His crimson eyes darkened as he strode over, picking up the neatly folded letter on top.

He read it.

Silence.

Miss Hunter, reading over his shoulder, choked.

“Oh my god.”

Luke and Kieran took a step back.

Then—

His evol errupted

The entire stack of divorce papers disintegrated into red and black mists.

Sylus exhaled slowly, eyes flickering red with rage.

Mephisto landed on his shoulder. Cawing, ready to be deployed.

Sylus’s jaw ticked. “Find her.”

Luke and Kieran saluted. “We’re on it, boss!”

Miss Hunter was already on the phone. “Tara, I need you to do a favor for me, track (Name)’s movements. Now.”

Sylus didn’t wait.

He grabbed his jacket, his keys, and walked straight to his bike.

As the engine roared to life, his gaze was deadly.

'My wife is NOT leaving me over a STUPID misunderstanding.'

And with that—

He sped off to bring his ridiculous stubborn wife home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile (Name) was settling down in her favourite spot in the N109 Zone. It was their favourite place to visit, (Name)'s favourite coffee shop, stepping in the cafe brought her memories of the amount of time she spent with her ex-husband.

As she order her usual without a partner this time, she sat near the window, sipping her coffee, waiting for her ride to the train station to move out.

'Did i went too far..?...what if Sylus had not care at all?'

She did what she had to do, shaking her head to get rid of her negative thoughts, she smiled to herself. Imagining how she might plan her life in the future even without the man she loves.

When a familiar engine roar made her pause.

She turned her head.

A black sleek sports bike skidded to a stop.

And there he was.

Sylus.

Looking absolutely livid.

She blinked. "Oh."

Before she could even think of escaping, Sylus stalked into the cafe, crimson eyes burning with rage and disbelief.

“(Name).”

“…Hi, Hus- oh i mean Sylus,” she greeted casually, sipping her drink.

Sylus closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if mentally restraining himself.

“Explain,” he said slowly, “why I came home to divorce papers.”

She raised a brow. “Uh, because you love Miss Hunter now? Duh.”

Sylus’s eye twitched.

“Sweetie.” He leaned down, placing a hand on the table, trapping her in place. “Do you know what Miss Hunter and I were doing at that store?”

She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows as if challenging him. “Buying a ring for your new woman?”

Sylus’s eye twitched. Then, without a word, he pulled out the ring box, popped it open, and held it in front of her face.

Inside sat a gorgeous, carefully chosen crimson ruby ring.

For her.

She stared.

“…Wait.”

"This is your ring, sweetie. Did you think i would let you go so easily?" Sylus deadpanned.

She blinked. Looked at the ring. Then at Sylus. Then back at the ring.

"...Oh."

Sylus groaned, dragging a hand down his face, he laughs about the absurd situation in front of him right now.

Then he gently carried her, threw her over his shoulder, and walked out.

"SYLUS—"

"Less talking now, kitten. We’re going home."

People in the café watched in amusement as a laughing kicking (Name), like a misbehaving kitten was carried off by her furious husband.

“SYLUS, PUT ME DOWN!” she shrieked, smacking his back.

He did not.

Instead, he adjusted his grip on her thighs, completely ignoring the stares of the café patrons. Some people gasped. Others whispered. A few even took out their phones to record the absolute spectacle of a very powerful-looking white-haired man casually kidnapping his wife.

She huffed. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Sylus snorted. “Oh, I’m embarrassing you? Sweetie you were about to divorce me."

"Then how was I supposed to think when i saw you like that huh?!?!"

Sylus stopped walking. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled her from his shoulder, flipped her around, and held her in his arms bridal-style instead.

He leaned in, voice dangerously low.

“And you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers, “could’ve not written a divorce letter without talking to me first.”

(Name)’s breath hitched.

Damn it.

He always did this—turning the tables at the last second, making her stomach flip, making her feel stupidly in love even after she just tried to end their marriage.

“...Sorry,” she admitted.

Sylus smirked, kissing her temples. “Good girl.”

She immediately scowled.

And then bit his hand.

"Ouch—!"

Miss Hunter’s call came through Sylus’s earpiece.

“Did you find her?”

“Oh, I found her, a stray kitten waiting for its owner to pick up.” Sylus said dryly, tapping her thigh in warning as she kept wiggling.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment Sylus stepped through the door, still carrying his wife (despite her multiple attempts to be put down), Luke and Kieran visibly sighed in relief.

“Missus! You’re alive!” Luke practically cried.

Kieran clutched his heart. “Boss, thank god. We thought you were gonna start a war or something—”

Sylus glared. “Don’t tempt me.”

Both men immediately straightened up.

Meanwhile, Miss Hunter stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a deeply exasperated expression.

“So,” she drawled, “you wrote an entire goodbye letter just because you thought Sylus loved me?”

(Name) crossed her arms. “In my defense, you were laughing together. It looked suspicious.”

Miss Hunter rolled her eyes. “We were laughing about you, (Name).”

She winced.

Right.

“…Oops?”

Sylus sealed his promise to never let his wife go with a kiss on the lips. "You're lucky I love you."

Miss Hunter sighed. "She really is."

Luke and Kieran nodded solemnly.

Sylus sighed. “I swear, next time you pull something like this, I’m chaining you to our bed.”

She perked up.

“Oh?” she teased, smirking. “Kinky.”

Sylus groaned, amused.

Miss Hunter facepalmed.

Luke and Kieran? Died laughing.

Just another normal day in the Onychinus household, well maybe not so normal afterall.

I can't write angst so i write comedy instead haha- anyways i hope this is not too ooc for sylus but this scenario just came up to my head last night and i had to write it

[everlastingserenitys]

sylus hcs because I’m in love with him

★ he would do ANYTHING for you.

★ he is not the type to get jealous I just can’t see it.

★ he is the aftercare king 🙂‍↕️ will always pamper you before himself.

★ teases you before going to bed

★ spoils the fuck out of you OR lets you spoil the fuck outta yourself (he’s loaded)

★ loves bitingg!!!!

★ you can tell, he’s really soft spoken and has a tender and loving voice so he would never, ever yell at you, I can’t see it either… him yelling is just ew and I don’t want to see it.

★ teases you before apologizing if you got into an argument.

★ massive lover for cuddles!!!! he’s literally big spoon and I bet his body would feel so warm against you… fuckkk

★ he would love petting you ….

★ whimpers, hence why he’s also sooo sensitive <3

★ i feel like he’s the type of person to cry during sex and not in a bad way, in like a victorious kind of way? you get me? he would cry happy tears that you’re the one he’s fucking.

★ praises, praises, praises!!!

★ texts you random bullshit at random times

★ switch

★ since he’s lowkey a loner, you would probably be his first option to go to when he needs someone.

★ oh he was definitely a virgin the first time he fucked you!

★ VERY VERY gentle lover oh my god hes so gentle with you so so sooooo gentle.

[scarletardor]

i do like that crow-coded guy just a lil bit

[angelnoe9]

A Dance in the Dark

The city lights flickered in the distance as you hurried down the alleyway, your breath escaping in small puffs in the cool night air. It was late—too late. Normally, this shortcut would have you home in no time, a path you’d taken countless times. But tonight… something was different. The alley felt strange, as if the walls had stretched higher, the paths twisted unnaturally. Your footsteps echoed as you turned a corner, only to find yourself at a dead end.

A rustling noise broke the silence, making you freeze.

Your eyes scanned the shadows. Then, from above, a figure swooped down—its wings slicing through the air. You gasped, stumbling back as a mechanical crow landed before you. Its sleek, dark form glowed with red eyes.

You knew this crow.

“Mephisto?” you whispered, disbelief thick in your voice.

No way. It couldn’t be. But as you stared at the crow, the sinking feeling in your stomach confirmed what your mind was refusing to accept.

Before you could fully process it, a presence emerged from the neon-lit haze at the end of the alley. A tall figure moved with fluid grace, stepping into the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. When his crimson gaze locked onto yours, a slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips.

“Finally, we meet, Kitten.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Sylus

He stood exactly as he did in the game, but somehow… even more imposing. His white hair caught the neon light, tousled but effortlessly framing his sharp features. The black blazer over his shoulders shifted as he moved, and the red streaks on his shirt resembled feathers, almost raptor-like in their precision.

Except now, he wasn’t just a character. He was real.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

Sylus tilted his head, amusement glimmering in his red eyes as he observed your stunned silence. “Speechless already? And here I thought you'd at least say my name.”

His voice was deep, rich, and unmistakably real. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you tried to muster a response, but before you could, Sylus closed the distance between you in one swift motion, his arms sweeping under your legs and back.

“W-Wait—!”

Your protest was cut off as he effortlessly lifted you into a bridal carry, like you weighed nothing at all. Your heart raced in your chest, and instinctively, you grabbed onto his shirt for balance. The warmth of his body was undeniable, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Much better.” His smirk deepened, and the teasing glint in his eyes made it clear he was enjoying this far too much. “Can’t have you wandering around lost now, can we?”

You stared up at him, still processing the absurdity of it all. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with something distinctly Sylus—dangerous, intoxicating. Your brain struggled to catch up with reality, but you were no stranger to this world anymore.

Were you really surprised at this point?

As if reading your thoughts, Sylus chuckled softly. “You’re handling this surprisingly well.” His eyes gleamed with an unreadable glint. “Not even a scream? No demands for answers?”

You exhaled sharply, finally finding your voice. “Honestly… I don’t even know if I should be surprised anymore.”

That earned a low, velvety laugh from him. “Smart girl.”

With Mephisto soaring ahead, Sylus carried you effortlessly through the maze of alleyways. His strong arm kept you cradled against him, the other hand holding your heels by the strap, as if it were nothing more than a casual afterthought. The weight of your shoes in his hand only added to the surrealness of the situation. His other hand felt steady and secure around your waist, making you feel surprisingly safe despite the chaos of the moment.

Your arms instinctively wound around his neck for support, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt. The proximity was overwhelming, and the warmth of his body made your heart flutter.

The looming silhouette of the Onychinus base soon appeared, its crimson lights reflecting off the sleek metal structures, casting an eerie glow over the area.

As you neared, it hit you—you were truly here. In the world of Love and Deepspace, within the territory of the most dangerous man in N109. And that man, currently holding you like a prized possession, was clearly savoring the moment.

A shiver ran through you—not of fear, but of anticipation.

And from the way Sylus held you, his smirk knowing and sharp, it was clear he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon. 𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑ tag: @beaconsxd I was not free yesterday so here is a new one ヾ(≧▽≦*)o

[novthirty]

🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter one]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn

a/n — oh how i wish to leave my academically rigorous life and get isekai-d… next chapter will be sometime next week as i’m on the brink with finals (the class average on the exam is 7/45 we are not okay) i might not reply to all comments but i want u to know i see all of them n blush & kick my feet every time 🥰

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open! series masterlist | next part [coming soon]

chapter one: descent — after finding yourself in an unfortunate accident, you wake up in the world of love and deepspace. you go from burned out college student to secretary at your wit's end. wc: 4k

January snow falls on your tongue, plumes of warm air escaping your breath into the cold. It was just your luck to get saddled with a 7 PM class this semester, relegated to walking home in the late winter chill. You clutch your bag tighter as you walk down the desolate road, devoid of any streetlights— when a vehicle swerves and crashes into you. The impact is that of a sledgehammer to your body, as you hear the crunch of glass and the snap of bones. 

This is the end, you think, as the world around you blurs into nothingness. 

—————————————————————

You rise to consciousness upon hearing a steady, mechanical beeping— and promptly have a panic attack upon seeing the IV attached to your arm. You feel yourself hyperventilating, the heart rate monitor crashing as a triad of nurses comes in to restrain you. You desperately thrash against their hold, trying to remove the intrusive line from your body, but it’s no use; your injuries and the numerous drugs running through your system hamper your movements. You hear muffled explanations— inaudible to your clouded mind— before they decide to sedate you. You drift back into slumber. 

Sometime later, you wake up again, this time with the IV detached and a familiar face sitting casually by your bedside. You do a double take at the silver-haired man. And you laugh. You must be in some sort of dream or coma-induced hallucination. Because why was Sylus, a love interest from Love and Deepspace— the game you have been obsessed with for the past few months— sitting here in flesh and blood? You say as much, and he deigns you with the response, “Did you sustain brain damage on top of your other injuries?”

You shake your head at the absurdity of your delusions, quickly falling back into a medically-induced sleep. Things should be back to normal when you wake up.

—————————————————————

Newsflash: they weren’t. As days passed, you gradually had to accept that— whether reality or not— you were going to be stuck here until you figured out how to return to your world. 

Sylus visits you from time to time, the strange girl who landed in his backyard and claims to be from another world. It turns out that the place you’ve woken up in is not a hospital, but Onychinus’s medical ward. Your conversations are minimal, mostly veiled threats as he questions your intentions and identity. “I’ll give you one last chance,” He exhales in frustration as he interrogates you for the hundredth time, “To explain why you’ve trespassed here, before I decide for myself.” 

“…I didn’t want to die?” You answer meekly. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s not being as menacing as he thinks he is, hovering over a patient confined to their hospital bed. You take a spoonful of your pudding when he looks away. Better than hospital food back home, at least.

There's little you can say that won’t make him think you’ve gone mad. But, maybe you are. A strong part of you believes that any moment, you’ll be waking up in a padded room, wearing a straitjacket.

You spend your days drifting in and out of sleep, staring out the window into the underbelly of the N109 Zone. Each day you awaken to the sight of the dark cityscape fills you with disappointment and dread, as you realize this may not be a dream. You miss the warmth of your own bed. You miss the soft daylight streaming into your apartment. (You miss home.) 

When you’ve healed enough to be discharged, you have nowhere to go. So you turn to the only person you’re familiar with in this world.  

You corner him in the hallway outside your room, dressed in the ill-fitting clothes given to you. (The ones you wore during the accident couldn’t be salvaged, they said, handing the torn and bloody garments to you. Your only possessions in this world, now ruined.) You fidget with your hands, daring yourself to look him in the eye. “I don't have a lot of work experience, but…” You earnestly list off all of the projects and internships you’ve undertaken in the previous years, selling your skills with the desperation of someone who has nowhere else to go. 

You were just a college student, months away from graduation before you found yourself here. Your life was tiring; an endless backlog of readings and back-to-back assignments waiting for you at the end of each day, the pressure to succeed constantly weighing down on your conscience. But despite it all, it was a fulfilling life; working every day to the bone in order to achieve your dreams. 

Now, it fills you with spite— how everything you had worked hard for was taken away in the blink of an eye. But you push the bitterness aside, offering whatever skills you have to Sylus so he doesn’t kick you out. You know that this world isn’t kind, the N109 Zone being one of the worst places you could have ended up. A normal civilian such as you wouldn’t be able to survive here alone.

You don’t spare a breath until the very end of your spiel, “—and, it would only have to be until I find a way to return home,” You finish. All the while, you’re hiding your anxiety; because how exactly do you get home? (A part of you cruelly whispers: if you can.) 

“Pretty please?” You add with a grimace, when the silence becomes overwhelming. 

He looks at you with cruel amusement, chin tilted down like a king with a peasant at his feet. The Sylus of Love and Deepspace may have been a devoted lover, but the man in front of you now is a cold and ruthless criminal. He takes a step forward— you think he plans to rid you from his sight, when he says, “Don’t make me regret it.” 

—————————————————————

Though you don’t have much to contribute to a criminal organization, you’re grateful when Sylus offers you the job of his personal secretary. 

The past few weeks before the accident had been spent in the post-holiday rush of schoolwork. With only your job to keep you occupied now, you’ve never found yourself with so much time on your hands. Years of building time management skills helps you to cope with the high-paced nature of this world, so you put your whole blood, sweat, and tears into this job, repaying Sylus’s generosity with your efforts to earn your keep around here. 

As his personal assistant, you have no precedent to follow because Sylus just… does everything on his own. Despite the number of minions and associates he has at his disposal, when it comes to his personal business, Sylus is a one-man army. So, you insert yourself into his workflow and commandeer his schedule; the man doesn’t even have a calendar, for crying out loud. Although you don’t have much work experience, your previous internships and methodical nature help you to excel at this job. Never has the leader of Onychinus been so…. organized, his colleagues and associates observe the stark change in the following months. 

“Miss Secretary,” Luke and Kieran affectionately call you, “What’s your secret to dealing with the bossman?” They ask, in dramatically hushed whispers. 

Sylus was untouchable— unrivaled at his job— which often enabled his imperious disregard for everyone else’s time and patience. Being late or completely missing meetings if something he deems more important arises (an auction for a vintage record is not something you deem important enough over an executive meeting), expecting his minions to accomplish the impossible in a matter of days. “I did the heavy lifting, surely you can manage the scraps,” He drawls from his leather, ergonomic chair, looking bored to bits. 

Though you already knew this from your time playing the game, it was different to experience it, and extremely more difficult to tolerate.

But you’ve dealt with worse in the form of freeloader group mates and hard-headed cousins. Over time, you whip him up to shape, scolding him when he arrives late to meetings, making sure he actually calls back when he says he will. “And what if I don't?” He asked with an edged smile on his face, the first time you admonished him. 

As you learned with your experience with children over the years: disappointment hits harder than anger. You cross your arms, holding back your true frustration. “Well, you’d be making mine and everyone else’s job ten times harder. And I would think much less of you.” You thought you’d get sacked the moment the words came out of your mouth. 

But instead, momentary shock flitted through his eyes— a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. “Well, I can't have my lovely secretary think so lowly of me, now can I?” He gave you a demeaning pat on the head, your irritation coming back in full swing. 

Over time, you grow to have a deeper respect for Sylus and how he runs Onychinus. He surprisingly takes criticism very well. At least, when it comes from you. You vividly remember the time he used his evol on an associate who dared to criticize his business practices. (He was being rude, anyway.) Neither is he the type to exaggerate his capabilities, easily admitting to his limitations. “I suppose I’ll have to learn then,” Is his attitude when it comes to his shortcomings, and you admire it. 

However, none of this stops him from being a bastard from time to time and making your job harder than it needed to be.

—————————————————————

Once Sylus started entrusting you with more responsibilities, you started handling his work line. His business partners now call his office to be greeted by a chirpy voice, “You’ve reached the Onychinus hotline, how may I help you? Oh, Sylus isn’t here right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

This especially came in handy when certain little rats wouldn’t stop bothering him on the phone. “You want to know if he’ll attend the anniversary ball on the 21st?” You made eye contact with him across the room. He immediately shook his head, as he caught wind of the brown-nosing colleague who couldn’t take a hint. “He’s not here right now, unfortunately. I'll get back to you through email as soon as I can.” (You never did.) 

Another new responsibility you’ve been given is to mediate dissatisfied clients. You’re surprisingly good at it; sometimes he wonders if you’ve taken some sort of PR training before. With how you handle these grown men acting like children without offending them, you’re either the most patient person to exist or very discreetly planning murder. He would’ve just resorted to threats of maiming (and execution of said threats when necessary). It makes things a lot easier since— according to you— his abrasive personality creates more problems than necessary. 

He initially gave you this job as more of a placeholder role, so you can occupy yourself with the illusion of real responsibility while he investigates his suspicions about you. Where did you come from? Who sent you? And most importantly, how did you manage to infiltrate his base right under his nose? But his investigation leads him to the simple truth: there was nothing on you. It’s as if you materialized from thin air. No records, no blood ties, no evidence of your existence before you walked into his life. 

But if reincarnation can be fact, and dragons more than legends, why deny the possibility of other realities? This, more than anything, makes him inclined to believe your claims. 

Besides, you’ve proven yourself to be… useful, he can admit. You easily adjust to his nocturnal schedule; like another little crow chirping from his shoulder at all times of the day. 

“Chop chop, Sylus! You have a 9 o’clock meeting at The Nest and it’s already 8:30,” You storm into his office to remind him. You can count on both hands the number of times you’ve had to overhaul his schedule into oblivion because of a single missed meeting. 

“Don’t worry, dear,” He idly spins in his chair, with no intention of leaving anytime soon. “It’ll only take me fifteen minutes.” 

You whipped your head at him in alarm, “I’d rather you not break the speed limits to get there on time.”

It takes you one look at his daily schedule to nag him about his more concerning eating habits, even going so far as to ask his preferred meals to inform the chefs in advance. “Are you going to explain to me why you’ve spent two whole hours on a single meal?” You sit across from him at the table; stunned would be an understatement at how you feel seeing all the empty plates surrounding him. 

He huffs. It’s not his fault his more… draconic habits carried over into this life. “Can I not even have my lunch in peace?” 

“At least space your meals out. Or eat dinner. You’re going to get hunger pangs before you go to bed, at this rate.”

Sometimes, you even resort to physically forcing him out of his office the moment noon hits, in an attempt to prevent him from overworking, “Sun’s up, boss. It’s time to hit the sack.” He’s long since learned not to fight you on this. Even if your attempts to push at his back are puny, at best. 

Your days together go by in this peacefully chaotic nature; your presence likening to a storm that has come to uproot his life. He pays you egregious amounts of money to make his job easier, and in turn, you make sure he’s fed, well-rested, and most importantly, aware of his goddamn schedule. 

It helps that your office is connected to his, although it's less a room and more an alcove he cleared away when he gave you the job. You have a small desk, a fluffy swivel chair, and a shelf covered in the trinkets you spend your salary on. (Another thing you have in common with Mephisto, he notes to the ever-growing list.) 

He could shut the doors to your “reception area,” as he likes to call it, but he finds amusement to idly watch you during his downtime. Your desk is in the perfect position to observe you from the corner of his eye. It had been a strategic decision, when he knew nothing of you or your intentions. Now, it’s become a pastime for him to watch you and your silly habits. Twirling the strands of your hair and chewing your pen, as you talk on the phone about weapons shipments and insuring someone who lost a finger in an operation. 

He’s not accustomed to being in such close quarters with someone, to letting someone into the crevices of his life. Yet slowly but surely, you weave your way into not only his work, but into the threads of his everyday existence. You leave your mark all throughout his home; from small trinkets magically finding their way onto random surfaces, your sweater claiming its new home on the couch armrest, a new mug in your favorite color left in the kitchen sink. Sometimes he can tell you’ve just left a room, when he inhales the lingering traces of your perfume. 

Your presence slips its way into that of his found family, too. The moment you laid eyes on Mephisto, the mechanical crow had immediately claimed a soft spot in your heart. You affectionately call him Mephie. From feeding him tiny bites of your dinner (he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he can’t digest food), to finding shiny trinkets such as coins and jewelry to add to his collection, you’re very close to displacing Sylus as the crow’s favorite in the house. 

Despite only being a few years older than Luke and Kieran— the exact middle between their and Sylus’s age— you both indulge and scold them. You join in on their pranks (you’re often the key to setting it up, what with your way around his schedule) but become extremely disappointed if their fun results in collateral damage; from a broken vase, to a rescheduled mission. Similar to Sylus, you keep them in check but stand right alongside them in the chaos. 

Contradictory to his initial expectations, you prove yourself in a professional capacity and cement your place in the ranks of Onychinus.

—————————————————————

The snow melts and spring creeps in, marking three months since you found yourself in this strange new world. Most days feel like a haze to you. Your secretarial duties keep your mind occupied, leaving little room for sorrow to settle in. But when you clock out and are left in solitude, your thoughts become your worst enemy. For that, you linger around the base a lot. Commandeering the kitchen to make midnight snacks, playing cards with Luke and Kieran in the living room, bothering Sylus when he’s cleaning his quarters. You toe the line for how much sleep you need to make it through the day— a bit hypocritical, you admit, given how you scold Sylus when he works at his office late into the night.

Misguided as it was, maybe it was a drop of fortune that you found yourself in his world. You’ve read stories of being transported to other worlds— of lions, witches, and wardrobes; of tornados, munchkins, and wicked witches. But the rabbit hole you’ve fallen down has been nothing like those tumultuous journeys. Your days in the office are warm and lovely— far from the crazed rush of deadlines and youthful chase of dreams you were living out in university, but a quiet contentment, nonetheless. Over time, you find yourself growing attached to the new life you’ve built, to the new family you’ve found. 

But the moment your head hits the pillow, it is the image of your family glued to the back of your eyelids. You see them worried sick about your disappearance, posting missing papers and wondering where you are, if you’ve become another statistic. (You don’t want to face the possibility that they may not be worried at all. That they may know exactly where you are, buried you there themselves.) For every smile and moment of laughter is a whisper in the back of your mind: Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss home? 

You invest all your guilt and spare energy into combing through the hoard of resources at your disposal. The reach of your information is almost endless, with Onychinus being the reigning authority in the N109 Zone (and secretly, some cities, too). Yet, there’s nothing. Your search feels futile, each failed lead adding to your ever-growing hopelessness. 

During the day, no one would know any better; with how you hide your inner turmoil, composing yourself into your role as Sylus’s secretary. But your ghosts ambush you into the night. Nightmares plague you throughout your intermittent slumber, as you constantly arise from vivid memories of the accident and of your past life (of waking up and finding yourself six feet underground). Your anxieties have evolved from a restlessness to return to a growing fear of what might await you. 

One night, you find yourself near-suffocating under plush sheets, thrashing as you dream of dirt piling on top of you. Sorrowful figures shoveling you into the ground and muffling your pleas, I'm here. I'm still here. Your terror carries over into reality, a scream leaving your throat as you jolt up in bed, once again finding the sight of the cityscape before you— now a source of comfort, rather than despair.

An imaginative mind is a gift at best, and haunts you at worst. You stumble as you leave your bed, heart racing and the fictional taste of dirt still in your mouth. You feel that you will vomit if you stay here, in sweat soaked sheets and stuffy air. So you grab a coat and make your way to the rooftop, where you find that someone had the same thought as you.

“Can’t sleep?” Sylus asks with his back turned, having sensed your presence before you could make yourself known.

You ignore his question, breathing in the dew and the early March air, breezing past even in the barren cityscape of the N109 Zone. “It's late, why aren’t you in bed?”

“Why aren’t you?” He retorts, scooting over in a silent invitation. You shiver as you take a seat beside him on the cold metal bench.

“It’s nothing, really,” You shake your head, voice trembling as you try to voice the terror that had taken over you, “Just nightmares, you know. They happen sometimes…” 

Bathed under soft moonlight, he quietly admits, “I understand. I get them, too. I often find myself here when I can't go back to sleep, when it feels too stifling inside.” 

“Before, I used to be mad at myself for falling asleep. I had to pull a lot of all-nighters for college, back then,” You explain, hitting your feet against the metal leg of the bench. “There were only so many hours in a day, but so much left to do… It’s ironic. Now that I want to sleep, I can't.” You laugh, but it’s hollow and empty. 

“What is it that you dream about?” 

You muse upon it, “Home. My family and friends. I dream of my childhood home a lot, but those are the good dreams. But then there are ones about all the things I'll need to catch up with at university, when I return,” Everything you have lost. Everything that was taken away from you. You laugh, thinking about it, “Those are the real nightmares. My to-do list is going to be taller than me once I get back. But what about you?”

A bittersweet smile paints his face, “Oh, the usual. Just about everything I've done wrong in my existence.”

You gasp dramatically, slamming a fist to your chest, “The great ole’ Sylus, ruler of all that breathes and crawls in the zone, feeling guilt?”

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He playfully rolls his eyes, before turning somber once again, “I feel regret, maybe, at what I could have done differently. Sometimes I dream of turning back time.” He dreams of his days inside the chapel, a short refuge within a terrible era of this world. Is it so wrong that he wishes to return to it? To live within that bubble of peace forever? 

“That’s interesting. I don't know if anything would change if I could turn back time… I have a feeling I'd still be where I am.” Unease grows within you the more time passes. That however hard you try, you are bound to the direction you’re headed in. (That you have been for a while.)

The conversation settles into a comfortable silence, as the two of you gaze at the nocturne before you. You stare into the sea of lights glittering below, headlights and neon signs glowing within the city that never rests. They blur together, these lights. Soft colors of blue, green, red, growing ever duller until you find yourself falling back into a peaceful slumber. 

—————————————————————

He sits in quiet tranquility, your slumbering figure resting on his shoulder, the smell of your shampoo overwhelming his senses. Once you’re sound asleep, he carries you back to your bedroom, careful not to disturb the long sought-for sleep you had just achieved.

What was once a potential threat is now precious cargo in his arms, muttering incomprehensible murmurs in her sleep. How can someone be so harmless and lovely? He thinks, brushing aside your stray wisps of hair. As he walks down the opulent halls of his home, he muses on how, like a storm rolling in, you have swept your way into his life. He lays you in your bed, tucking you gently underneath the cotton sheets. 

It happens here, during the first breath of spring after winter, as he gazes upon your soft form. For the first time in a millennia, he feels the quiet stirrings of his heart, beating for something he cannot yet name. 

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[x-maeve-x]

It's not that unbearable, is it?

Having your soul torn apart and all.