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beauleifu · 2 years ago

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hiii!! saw your rqs were open so i swooped right in >:) may i perhaps get a fluffy syntax x reader where the reader tries to drag syntax away from his work because theyre sleepy and want to cuddle him (bonus points if syntax is a bit of a tease cause djkfgdkfg im predictable) ...... i feel like once he gets going on his work he stays there until he either finishes it or passes out. overall hes Very stubborn so we gotta try and fix his sleep schedule with the power of ~love~ (and a lot of convincing). thank you for the opportunity!! the way you write for him is like instant serotonin 🙏💞

HEYYYYY GOOD TO HAVE YOU!

And ofc, ofc, we all love a little Syntax serotonin, yessir. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, sorry if this is late! I wanted it to be fun and mushy lmao

P.S. to everyone else, I think this is gonna be my last long oneshot for Syntax seeing as im writing a fanfic for him and dont want stuff for him to get old or repetetive, I have a LOT of requests regarding him so i'll either write short headcanons or not answer them until later <3

as for that yan!Syntax x reader, that's the exception lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SYNTAX X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: Your idiot is back at it again, tinkering late at night at the work bench you realize you regret buying for him. Syntax was never one to value his own health, so it's up to you to, ah . . . remind him. Let's hope your plans don't go sideways.

CW: Tiny suggestive bit, language

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

When you wake up, it's still dark.

Weird . . . You think, not bothering to sit up. Dull gaze directed at the stone ceiling, you frown thoughtfully.

It's probably sometime around three in the morning.

That doesn't explain the strange empty feeling inside of you. Blowing out a sigh, you look around for the person you'd been spooning all night - only to find the other side of the bed vacant and cold.

Now you realize why you feel empty.

Syntax is gone.

Frustration starts to build up in your center as you slowly sit up and rub your eyes, yawning tiredly.

He's probably working in his signature cave. Just one of many in the vast expanses of the Spider Queen's lair. You've become familiar with the many routes and tunnels that stretch to the surface (the Spider Queen needed you at your top game, anyways). After coming to terms with serving the Queen, you've stayed by Syntax's side to help him with whatever he needs. You're not a tech nerd, you're not even a scientist. But the spider demons seem to enjoy your company, the food you cook, and the items you bring from the surface.

It's too chilly to leave your room without a blanket, so you drape the fluffiest one over your shoulders and slip out of bed, bare feet touching the smooth, stone cold floor.

Urgh. Living underground doesn't have many perks.

You find solace in working with Syntax and befriending the other spider demons. At least they allow you to travel to the surface in order to get your daily dose of vitamin D and other necessities. Besides that, you live down here.

Stretching and scratching your back, you walk aimlessly to the door and crack it open. It's dark outside.

It's always dark.

You've grown accustomed to the lack of sunlight, but you must have access to a nightlight or a lamp if you want to feel somewhat at home. The Spider Queen had allowed you to decorate your room (it's a cave, but you refuse to call it that), and you're grateful to her for that. It's not often she expresses any sort of kindness to begin with.

Eyes wide, you fumble for your phone and beam the light down the tunnel.

Just beyond, where the path curves sideways, you see a light.

Yup. Totally working.

"Damn spider demon," you mumble to yourself, in a slight daze as you leave your room and follow the source of light. "Getting no sleep. What am I supposed to do . . ."

When you finally reach the room, you pause.

Anxiety bubbles in your chest.

Step, step, step.

You've started pacing, you know it.

Slowly shuffling back in forth in front of the ominous door that leads to Syntax's quarters, hands twisting the blanket fabric. Under normal circumstances, you'd walk right in after knocking, with a smile on your face.

Instead, you're frowning, tapping your chin and thinking hard.

It's three in the fucking morning.

Why isn't he asleep!?

You don't understand why the Spider Queen won't send Syntax to rest and charge up if she values his tech skills so much. Despite it being so dim down here in the spider caves, no one ever seems to want to sleep. Unless they do so while you're aboveground, but the time you spend up there recently is very brief. You're ordered to return to the Spider Queen's lair in due time (and you're sure Huntsman keeping an eye on you the whole time, anyways. You don't try anything).

Adjusting the fluffy blanket draping over your shoulders, you fight a yawn and rub your eyes. Just get it over with.

You're tired.

He must be exhausted.

It's that which motivates you to quietly open the door, peeking inside before stepping through. As you expected, a tall figure stands at the work bench, back to you, tinkering away.

You puff out a small, exasperated sigh. "Syntax. . . ."

He doesn't turn, but you detect the smallest tensing of his shoulder muscles as he straightens a tad. You hear the small exhale.

"You should be asleep."

Oh, he wants to play this game? Puffing a sigh, you enter the room and shut the door quietly behind you, leaning against it. "Yeah, well, so should you. This isn't healthy and you know it. Why can't you take a break and come back to bed?"

"You know why. I'm almost finished with the prototype."

"The prototype?? You mean you're not even at the final stage?" Crossing the room and joining him at the workbench, you give him the stinky eye. "That's not almost finished."

Finally, Syntax locks eyes with you, frowning. "Did I say I was almost finished with the project as a whole?"

"No. . . ."

"Precisely. Now if you won't return to bed, then sit and be quiet."

You weigh your options, biting your lip.

At this rate, he'll just refuse your request just to spite you. There must be a smarter way to play your cards. Something that you know he has a weakness for. . . .

"How about a deal?" You murmur.

There.

You catch it, the slight lift of his eyebrows and the brief gleam in his green eyes. But he merely scoffs. "What did I just tell you?"

"Please. Please!" You say, fighting a smile. "I wanna cuddle!"

"I'm not in the mood for bargaining."

He's messing with you. You know he's interested in whatever you have to offer. Puffing a laugh, you slip your arms around his midsection and hug him from behind, closing your eyes. The sound of his breathing against your ear is soothing, even when it hitches at your actions. He's so warm. No wonder you woke up from his absence.

"Pleeeeeaase?" You whine softly, knowing you sound childish but not caring in the slightest. "I thought you liked deals."

A pause. You hold your breath.

Syntax lets out a sigh, a smile in his voice. "What did you have in mind?"

Oh.

"I, uh . . . haven't planned it out that far. I was expecting you to shoo me back to bed," you admit sheepishly, glad you can hide your face in his coat so you can avoid meeting his gaze, which is no doubt amused and mocking.

The spider demon hums, tinkering away. "That was on my itinerary, but you have piqued my interest. . . ."

"Okay, how about I do whatever you want for a bit, and in return you come to bed and cuddle with me," you offer, releasing him. Syntax spins on heel and leans on the workbench.

"'Whatever I want'?" He repeats mischievously.

You consider. "Within reason."

"Understandable. All right," Syntax says, cocking his head. "I have an idea."

A question builds in your throat, for he'd been so very explanatory, but Syntax simply crosses you to the far side of the desk and faces you once more. Hands in his pockets, he nods to the desk, eyes twinkling mysteriously. You frown deeply.

"Sit here."

Now you grimace, face scrunched as you try and figure out his ulterior motives. "Uh-huh. What else? Just sit?"

If this is it, getting him to bed will be shockingly simple.

Of course, you miss the look in his gaze. Smiling casually, he hums; "Yes. That's all." And then his voice takes on a stern dip. "However. You are to sit quietly and obediently until I instruct otherwise. If you can do that, I see no problem in fulfilling your end of the bargain."

There it is, the catch you were waiting for.

Accepting your face, you nod wearily and saunter over to the desk. You make sure the blanket is secure before hopping up onto the smooth, wooden surface.

Syntax steps back, making sure you look comfy. "Good. Now sit there for a bit."

"You're not just doing this to make me shut up, are you?" You accuse as he walks back to the workbench. Shifting to avoid leaning back and bumping the discarded tech gear at your back, you eye him sternly. "You really will come back to bed?"

He merely glances at you.

Oh.

Shit.

You make a quick movement of zipping your mouth closed. Damnit, you still have no idea if you're doing this for nothing.

Syntax cracks a satisfied smile, returning to his work.

His demeanor gives away nothing. Whipping out your phone, you glance at the time. 3:30. Through narrowed eyes, you determine how long he'll make you sit here. No longer than half an hour, if he values your sleep schedule. Somewhat reassured, you settle into the blanket and watch Syntax resume tinkering around. The prototype looks like some kind of mini spider-bot, with sharp appendages and large, x-raying green eyes.

You long to ask what purpose his creation serves. Perhaps it's some kind of spying device, to scuttle around the city undercover of night in search of the Monkie Kid. Then again, isn't Syntax's current task something different? You thought the former was Huntsman's job.

A yawn escapes you without warning, and you clap a hand over your mouth in shock.

Syntax spares you a brief glance. "Giving up?"

He's asking if you're tired enough to abandon the deal and leave him here (as he probably wants). To challenge you in that way sparks a flame that you don't bother to snuff out.

Glaring determinedly, you shake your head. Not in a million years.

The spider demon's face drops in disappointment, and he turns back to his work without another word.

You're inclined to pass the time on your phone, lazily scrolling through entertainment simply thrown at your feet, as they swing back and forth above the cave floor. But as time ticks on, you begin to think this is all quite hopeless.

You struggle against another yawn.

A few more minutes.

It'll be worth it.

Syntax suddenly straightens, having been rearranging the insides of the mini spider-bot for the past five minutes. Blowing out an exhale, he glances at you - or rather, behind you.

His eyes then trail to your face. A slow, smug smile spreads across his features.

Setting the screwdriver aside, he walks over to the desk.

You realize he needs something from behind you, something lost among the many miscellaneous tech items resting against the wall. However, from the strange gleam in his eyes, you doubt that's all he needs, and he hasn't asked you to move yet. So you plant your hands on the table in preparation to scooch over and make room for him.

To your surprise, Syntax stops your motions by politely - yet firmly - placing one hand on your knee.

You swallow. Uh oh.

Syntax smiles kindly at you. "That's not necessary."

"But I-"

"Perhaps you're forgetting your instructions? Move, and the deal is off," Syntax continues, effectively shutting you up. With a gentle squeeze to your knee, he winks. "So stay."

That kind smile was a ruse, a dirty trick that had momentarily lowered your guard.

Syntax finds it incredibly easy to simply lean right over you to retrieve whatever he needed from the table. He's taller than you, his height even more prominent when you're sitting down. You have to tilt your chin upward so it just barely brushes his shoulder, heart beat suddenly wild.

It stops.

It skips beats.

It has no fucking clue how to react.

"U-Um-"

"Just a moment," Syntax says, which is so informative. You can practically feel his smirk, can taste the amusement reeking off of him.

Also his perfume. Not to mention his natural scent.

Smells good. Heat blossoms in your cheeks, your mouth quite dry as you attempt to swallow. The phone in your hands slips from your laxed grip into Syntax's palm, and you don't even try to object.

The scientist fusses with something behind you for a good ten seconds, giving you plenty of time to work up quite a flustered storm in both your head and your face. In the end, when he leans back, you're shivering despite the blanket, cheeks on fire.

The spider demon smirks.

Job well done, his eyes seem to say, green and mocking.

"Enjoying your visit thus far?" He says musingly, eyebrows raised. When you give no answer, he scoffs and brushes his bangs to one side. "You have permission to speak, I suppose. For now."

You simply glare, no longer wanting to cuddle anymore.

No.

You want to attack, like the little gremlin you are. Revenge tastes sweet, yessir.

"Not answering," you huff, hoping for a drink.

Which is certainly answer enough. Syntax's drops and he shrugs as if to say, you're loss. He's still a close distance from you, looking down at your blanket-swaddled frame. "You'd rather go back to bed and give up this . . . whatever this is?"

When he'd gestured to you, your eyes fall to his hands, unwilling to keep eye contact.

"I just . . ."

Angry for being at such a loss for words, you glare at the floor.

Syntax's expression softens.

He seems to realize what's up. With a faint sigh of fond exasperation, he rests his hands on either side of you, on the desk, and lowers himself to your eye level.

"Why did you really come down here. To me," Syntax murmurs, eyes half lidded.

You stiffen. "Well . . . I . . ."

He's smiling now, fingers ghosting along your arm. "Did you miss me that much?"

"More like worried you'd kill yourself working too hard," you grumble.

"Hmm. I'm touched," Syntax comments, gently taking your hand in his. Raising it to his lips, he presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, eyes trained on you. This time, you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

Say it.

It's certainly a last ditch effort, an idea you're not exactly proud of.

However, as we all say, for the greater good.

"It . . . it just hurts to see you neglect your own health," you whisper, as though your confession is something forbidden.

Your words fill Syntax's ears.

He blinks, lips parting in surprise. You catch the guilt flash across his face.

At that moment, you seize your chance.

Syntax didn't know.

He had no clue that you were also putting on an act to dissuade him from the real deal (although your confession still have a ring of truth to them).

Karma is a bitch.

Hauling the blanket with you, you launch yourself at Syntax and wrap yourself around him, legs hooking around his waist. The blanket had fallen in such a way that it now covers both of your heads, giving way to a new kind of darkness that you quite like.

He gasps, hands instinctively flying down to support you.

With eyes of steel, you grab his face.

"Sleep," you beg, expression set aglow by the soft shine of Syntax's green eyes. Cracking a fond smile, you kiss his nose. "Cuddle with me."

You kiss his forehead. "I love you and I want you to be healthy."

Then, you pinch his cheek. "Don't make me use force."

Syntax is effectively breathless, words simply abandoning him when he needs them most. Your actions had startled him for sure, and thankfully he'd caught you or you'd be on your ass right now, drowning in shame. For now, you remain thankful and patient in his arms, thumb absently brushing his cheek.

Finally, Syntax sighs in resignation. "I knew I'd fail to achieve anything with your constant nagging."

"Is that a yes?"

A yawn - you knew he was tired. "I suppose it was."

Relief pours through you, and you remove the blanket from over both your heads. It falls back around your shoulders like a fluffy cape.

"Then let's be off," you say, yawning ass well.

He obeys, perhaps sad to leave his project yet his body is relaxed. Carrying you still, he leaves the cave and walks down the tunnel. You hug him tighter, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing deeply.

"I can't believe you did this on a daily basis before we met."

Syntax clears his throat. "With good reason."

"Give me one good reason, then."

Silence.

He's tired. It brings a smile to your face, because so are you, and it would suck to have forced him to do something he isn't ready for.

Now you can look forward to sleeping with peace of mind.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk syntax #syntax x reader #oneshot #fluff #tw light suggestive themes #you dont have to take it that way tho #syntax workaholic #both of you are scheming idiots in love #i mean that in a good way #thanks for the ask!#had sm fun writing this #long post

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