zylusmusings

[zylusmusings]

I am Amina, a graphic designer and I know how to draw too, but the war has destroyed my dreams, my work and my ambitions, and I have nothing left. A good friend helped me draw these drawings for my campaign, and I hope that all humanitarian artists will help me because we are now going through an unprecedented famine. I hope that everyone who can help in my campaign will help, and anyone who can support me financially will help in my campaign. Any amount helps, even if it is small.

I hope that everyone who sees the post and can help and point out known artists who can help, I hope that they do so because hunger is starting to destroy my children and my daughter needs urgent treatment. Thank you all.

PayPal

https://gofund.me/1187cba0

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[zylusmusings]

Sylus is for the ones who want security

Sylus is for the ones whose feet always seem to find the cracks in the pavement, who always seem to stumble over themselves as they try desperately to make something- a name for themselves, a conversation, a new relationship, a stronger existing one, anything- only to fail again and again.

Sylus is for the ones who find themselves holding up their hands as they watch them shake. Why you? Why was everything always on you? Why did you always have to make the effort, the connection, the fake-happy face to appease someone, just so that they might love you?

Sylus is for the ones who truly try, but have longed since reached the breaking point. Don't worry darling. Hide the cracks. If they're hidden, you surely can handle a little bit more disappointment. A little bit more 'being alone' no matter how hard you try. A little bit more on focusing on everyone else's needs while neglecting your own. Why are you breaking? Why are your pieces on the floor? Chin up, darling. It's only for a while longer. How much longer? Well, how much more do you have left to give?

Sylus is for the ones who sit wondering why. Why is there suddenly the foreign feeling of care, of love, of endearment? When everything has been 'nothing' for so long, how are you supposed to cope with 'anything' at all? Much less 'everything'? The stack of bills are paid, the cupboards no longer have ramen, rice, and beans. The texts come frequently, and your phone rings randomly whenever you cross someone's mind. When have you ever crossed someone's mind? And the clothes bought for you fit like a glove.

Sylus is for the ones who have given everything all of their life, who have found themselves desperate for connections that no one wants to make with them, who give their everything in exchange for more anxiety and demands at their expense.

Sylus is for the ones who want security.

[zylusmusings]

“source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams

[zylusmusings]

Do you ever think about how Zayne grew up so fast and cry? Like, this kid meets a girl who is dying because of her heart and because he's been raised by two doctors his first thought on how to help is to become a doctor himself. His parents travel the world to help and he spends all hours of every day in the library at college to get work done and study. He jumps grades because he's so dedicated, he's the youngest among his peers. He doesn't have many if any friends. He graduates, he's the youngest to do so. He goes right into his residency. He very quickly works his way up to chief cardiac surgeon. He has awards. He has made breakthroughs in medical fields that change and save lives. He is haunted by nightmares of another version of himself that is a serial killer. Who kills people infected with Protocore Syndrome to the point of becoming a Wanderer. The girl he is doing this all for has Protocore Syndrome. She could become a Wanderer. He has to find a cure for it or he could have to kill her like he killed his old friend.

He enjoys video games and sweets. He gets toothaches from eating too many sweets. These are the only things he allows himself to do that is childish, up until that girl comes back into his life with her playful mischief. He allows himself to be playful and less cold around her. He needs to find a cure.

DO YOU EVER JUST CRY ABOUT THIS???

[zylusmusings]

"what do you think our wedding will be like?" she asks, and rafayel feels his heart still immediately. he gives it a second, letting the two sides of his heart battle it out.

a part of him feels giddy - she wants to be his bride again. it will happen again, because they are fated mates! all of the worrying was for nothing because look! she wants to get married, bonded to him again. sure, the "sanctity" of marriage amongst humans on this earth is laughable and ludicrous compared to the solemn oath he literally has embedded to his chest... but he'll take it nonetheless. he'll take anything she has to offer, honestly.

albeit the other part of him wants to sulk and throw a tantrum. because this question is simply yet another reminder of what was left to be forgotten. the fact that she was already his bride, but the fact to be so horridly and devastatingly taken away from him. ripped away from his clutching fingers. sea of god he may be, but the strength of fate has no competition. what a painful reminder that question is, to be reminded, oh yeah you were my bride... until?..

rafayel doesn't realise that dancing around the two emotions has taken some time. purple eyes swirling with mixed emotions as his lips are pursed to the side in silence. this reaction causes her to shift nervously, afraid that she's made him uncomfortable with the question.

she clears her throat soon after, sitting up after spending hours on the couch with him, slouching against the backrest as his purple hair splays out against her chest. the movement shakes him out of his trance, a brief moment of confusion (and a dramatic look of "how could you!”) plastered on his face as he turns around, sitting up for the first time in 2 hours as well. he faces his blushing partner who is clearly flustered at his lack of response.

"um.. i mean - i'm not saying we will definitely get married or like whatever, it was just a question. i don't even know if you wanna marry me. again, it was just a question, you don't have to answer it if you-"

he gasps dramatically, brows furrowed deeply as he scoots away from her in bewilderment. "did you say you don't even know if i want to marry you?" he scoffs, standing up and begins to pace around the room. "is my devotion and quite frankly obvious and constant yearning for you not enough? for you to even question that?"

"rafayel, i-" "maybe the hunter's association should put you on bed rest if your brain's not functioning properly. oh perhaps, it's not the brain, it's your heart and its inability to feel the love i have for you. is that right, hm?"

"rafayel," she repeats louder this time, sighing. "that was not what i meant - i just. you went completely silent on me when i asked the question, so i thought you felt uncomfortable with the topic of marriage." shrugging, the red on her cheeks deepens as a replay of the scene comes to mind. she shrivels into herself, crossing her legs as she begins to play with the loose threads of her sweater. "and i know we’ve never talked about it either, so i shouldn't have just sprung it on you like that."

his face softens immediately, guilt pricking his chest as he watches the vulnerability she was expressing. while she wasn't exactly wrong - the topic of marriage does make him uncomfortable. as much as he wants her to be his bride, it’ll undoubtedly open new doors for pain all over again. but as uncomfortable it is, rafayel knows that she is someone he'd carve his own heart out for (well....).

"you have nothing to apologise for." he tells her gently, the tone contrasting the loud rant he performed earlier, and he's back on the couch, crawling onto the space next to her. his fingers are careful, he reminds himself he's holding onto his reason of being, his kyrptonite, the atoms of sunlight itself. he feels his stomach flip, and the soft warmth that begins to exude from the side of his chest tells him that if she peeked underneath his shirt, she'd bear witness to the physical embodiment of his sacred vow. "it threw me off guard, yes. but only because i've been keeping it myself for far too long, cutie." he smiles, still ever so gentle as his thumb caresses the smooth of her cheek.

"i’ve known that i have wanted to marry you for years now," and while she'll take that as a mere dramatisation (rafayel being rafayel), he means that as literally as it gets. only he knows about the pain, humiliation and fear that comes with the wait and for a moment, he's grateful that she doesn't know. he doesn't want her to be burdened with such hardship-filled emotions, so he'll carry it for the both of them.

"you won't be in white - maybe a light shade of blue. i'll obviously wear the best suit ever to be worn. we'll have a ceremony by the beach," he's speaking straight from the vision he's replayed in his mind countless of times, the smile on his face unconsciously growing as he mindlessly twirls a piece of her hair. "you'll have your hair down, and it'll probably get caught in the sea breeze - but it just makes sense to me."

"and," he pauses for a moment, hesitating before he continues. "we'll say our vows twice. one for everyone to bear witness to, and one just for you and me." a vow so sacred and intimate, rafayel refuses to share with the world. he refuses to taint it even a little bit, it should simply be meant only for his lover and him, and his pure everlasting love for her.

"oh." he has rendered her speechless, and now it's rafayel's turn to be nervous, fearing he has made her uncomfortable. hiding the embarrassment behind a scoff, he pulls away with a pout. "y-you were the one who brought it up first!" immediately, she shakes her head and pulls him back into her chest and rafayel doesn't fight his body when it relaxes immediately. "i was just a little surprised, raf - in a good way. didn't think you would've had all these little details in mind already." her voice mirrors his previously gentle one, and rafayel feels his eyes flutter shut, coaxed by her fingers running through his hair.

she hesitates, but braves herself to say it. time and again, once peeling off his layers, she's beared witness to his endless courage so why not walk in his footsteps? "i do hope we get married." her voice is quieter, but it speaks volumes to him. he feels a lump form in his throat at the emotions that begin to overflow within him. he reaches out to catch onto her hand that's combing through his hair and brings it to his chest in attempts to quell the tears that threaten to form behind his closed lids.

shakily, his lips whisper against her knuckles, "in my mind, we already are."

in his world, they already were. how lucky was he to get married to her, again and again, and again.

god, he'd do it a million times over.

[zylusmusings]

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾 𝑨 𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑳𝒀 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑨𝑮𝑨𝑰𝑵

life has been a little less empty for zayne with you in it

⟡ content: zayne x gn!reader; established relationship; a little bittersweet, but still with fluff 🫂; appearance of zayne's parents; bits of zayne's childhood; 1.5k words

⟡ a/n: title is from a quote by the wonderful brennan lee mulligan from the D20 season a court of fey and flowers <3 i was feeling very soft about zayne’s life and this was written as a result :’) i hope this is an enjoyable read !

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Emptiness was something Zayne had grown accustomed to. It was in the streets that he walked on at night following a late surgery shift. It was in the study rooms he frequented as a university student–often the last person to leave once all his peers had gone. It was even in the classrooms of his childhood–remaining there to read and draw whilst everyone else played outside during breaks. Emptiness gave him periods of focus, which was important considering the career path he eventually pursued. Though, he had not always welcomed emptiness as a companion in his life.

The first time that Zayne was left home alone was when his parents went on an emergency trip out of town for work. Being only a child, he wringed his small hands as his parents hurried to pack equipment he did not yet understand. Before they left, they repeated instructions to the young boy about what he should do for the night. Warm up dinner, finish his homework, brush his teeth, go to bed early. They did not repeat these because they believed Zayne would be disobedient, but because they knew how frightening aloneness could be for a child. Having set guidelines for what to do would hopefully help him to feel capable of being by himself.  

“Remember, we’re only a phone call away, sweetie,” his mother reassured, smoothing his hair back with her fingers.

His father lowered himself on one knee to kiss his son on the forehead, tousling his hair and the careful combing his wife had just done.

“We’ll be back by tomorrow,” his father also reassured.

As the door clicked shut, Zayne watched from the window, pushing the curtain aside. After seeing and hearing the whirring engine pull away, he let the curtain fall. He stood at the entrance for a moment.

All became still, and he was greeted by emptiness for the first time.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He was shocked to feel his heartbeat drumming in his chest and hear every small breath he took. His own internal systems were exposed in silence.

He shuffled further into the house, the once familiar space now feeling too big and labyrinthian. Even his thoughts seemed to echo off the walls as he recalled what his parents had told him to do. Yes, he had tasks he needed to complete. Going through his to-do list would surely rid of the uneasiness bubbling inside him.

Zayne checked things off one-by-one. He tried to focus intensely on what needed to be done to forget about the fact that he was alone.

At last, Zayne retreated to his bedroom. His penultimate task was reading one chapter from the library book he borrowed. However, the words were distant to him as the crawling feeling of isolation left goosebumps on his skin.

Patches of unlit space in his room turned into sinister voids waiting to suck him in. The rustle of wind against windows became Wanderers raking their claws against glass.

He closed his book and snuggled deeper and deeper into the blankets, tucking his head inside and squeezing his eyes shut. He prayed he would have no nightmares tonight. If he did have one, he would wake up to nothing but a hollow room and his heart rattling in his ribcage. Torn between needing rest and not wanting bad dreams, exhaustion eventually took hold.

Zayne awoke not to terrors of the emptiness, but to the comforting touch of his mother. Through his own bleary vision, he saw his mother’s tired but gentle eyes. He sat up groggily. 

“You were so very brave, my dear,” his mother praised.  

“W-where’s Dad?” Zayne asked, sleep lifting with each blink of his eyes.

“He’s making breakfast for us.”

Something flickered in his mum’s gaze after her reply. She opened her mouth, hesitating to speak again.

“Zayne.” She took his hands in hers, brushing a finger over his knuckles. “Me and your father… we need to help as many people as we can, so that means this might happen a lot more as you get older.”

She examined her son’s expression. Zayne nodded.

“We love you very much, and we want you to do exactly as you did last night if this happens again, okay?”

Zayne nodded again, understanding then that he and the emptiness would have to get along from now on.

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At the end of another shift at Akso Hospital, Zayne drove out of the parking lot into the deserted streets of Linkon past midnight. Classical music quietly played in the background as he headed home, unlit buildings passing by in the rear-view mirror.

At the red light, he was the only one waiting. Perhaps this hour of the night meant that phantom cars would be most active, bustling about to do their ghostly activities. That sounded like something you would say to comfort him. Zayne could hear your voice in his head, could see you wiggling your fingers in a poor attempt at mimicking spookiness. The corner of his mouth twitched at his own imagination.

But, you weren’t in the passenger seat beside him this time. He stared out the front windshield, emptiness before him.

Parking the car outside his home, he approached the front door. Hovering his fingerprint over the handle, the sensor gave a small buzz of confirmation before unlocking.

Zayne listed off what he needed to do in his head as he turned the handle and entered. Since he already showered at the hospital, he just needed to change into his sleep clothes, have something to eat, and complete his observations of the day in his journal. Tomorrow (or technically today, though the late hour made it difficult to believe this was a new day) marked the beginning of the weekend when he could spend time with you. If he completed his to-do list diligently, then he could rest quickly and see you sooner.

He slipped his shoes off and undid the laces before putting them beside his other pairs. Zayne expected he would be greeted by an empty, unlit interior. The emptiness was no longer was an unwelcome, unsettling sight like he thought it to be as a child. There was a calmness to it that he had grown to appreciate. But, if he dug deep enough inside himself, there was still a feeling of loneliness he could not quite shake.

That was why he frowned when he saw the lights had been turned on in the living room. He definitely recalled turning them off before he left.

Zayne walked further inside, keeping his guard somewhat up for the possibility of an unwanted intruder.

Rather than a burglar, he was surprised, and much more relieved, to see you instead. Curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around your body.

He almost didn’t want to interrupt you. You were so cozy and peaceful, bathed in the warm glow of the lights above. At the sound of Zayne’s footsteps, your tired eyes opened, and your head raised towards the noise.

“Zaynie,” you drawled.

Your voice was crackly with sleep, but your smile was as adoring as ever. Combined with the nickname you used for him, affection tugged at his heart.

He hung his bag up and loosened his tie, joining you on the couch.

“What are you doing here?” he asked softly, brushing loose strands of hair away from your face. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Mmm…” you leaned into his touch. “I thought I’d get a head start and see you earlier.”

 “Earlier being at two o’clock in the morning. You didn’t have to come all this way and wait for me.”

Hearing his point, your lips turned down into a pout.

“Firstly, all this way was only about a 20-minute drive from my place to yours,” you clarified, “and secondly, I wanted to wait for you.”

He breathed a laugh, something between incredulity and fondness. It wasn’t like you didn’t have work today either. Even after your own gruelling shift today fighting Wanderers after a flare-up in a no-hunt zone, you still had the energy to come see him after he finished. Zayne was about to give you a half-serious scolding about staying up late when you leaned closer to him. The words stopped short in his throat as your lips met his cheek.

His face, cold from just being in the night air, blossomed with warmth. Likely due to your tiredness, your reaction time was slower than usual as your kiss lingered for a second or two longer.

“Welcome home, Zayne,” you whispered by his ear as you pulled away.

Home.

His home.

A place that was no longer empty now that you were here. A once solitary existence now filled with your presence.

He wished that he could somehow speak to his younger self. He would say that he would one day be reunited with someone who would wait for him even in the dead of night. That person, with all their endearing stubbornness, would be the one to protect against Wanderers that might be stalking in the emptiness (for they were a renowned Hunter after all), and leave the lights on to dispel any deathly voids.

His mouth parted, breathing becoming unsteady as he whispered back,

“It’s good to be home, my love.”

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[zylusmusings]

LOL I couldn't see if this meme was made so I wanted to make it.

[zylusmusings]

sylus was his own protector, always has been. growing up in such a way has made him become a capable and dependable man. but at the same time, over time, it had naturally built a wall of defence around him. always on guard, always strong.

but it feels like sylus has ran out of his strength today. it's barely midnight (and that's practically morning for him) yet both his mind, body and soul are begging him for some rest. it's been an exhausting week full of deals and meetings (some successful, some not - the latter taking the bulk of the percentage). he was tired, disappointed and truth to be told, upset.

she senses something is wrong immediately when sylus wordlessly slips into bed next to her, immediately nuzzling her back against his own broad chest. there was no quip about her wearing the same sleep shirt two days in a row, nor was there a snicker about how her glasses were resting too low on the bridge of her nose as she scrolls through her phone. like clockwork, she presses herself even closer against him, his warmth immediately coaxing a contented sigh out of her.

she hears him sigh too, yet his was laced with some unsettledness, most definitely contrasting her blissful one. locking her phone, she shifts her neck a little to face him, a quiet yet simple question lingering in the air as she whispers, "you okay?"

he barely responds, a low hum all that he could muster. he was awfully quiet today, and she knew exactly what that meant. and he didn't have to explain further. she knew he felt a responsibility to constantly play the part of the fearless provider - he'd never share with her his own worries and troubles. ask him, and he'll agree. she was already burdened with so much of her own life events and bothers, many of those he oathed to carry off her shoulders. why would he let her learn even a glimpse of his troubles - why would he tarnish the reputation and image she has of him. he was her protector, her confidante, her rock - not her burden.

but she knows him better than he thinks she does. throughout the time she's known him, she's learned about his little quirks that to her, are a tell all. when a man full off snide comments suddenly falls silent, she knows it's a man in need of some love.

she hums back in response and a second later, she's turning in his arms to face him. she watches the wrinkle in between his forehead, signalling his deep in thought, stressed, despite his eyes shut. ever so gently, she presses a kiss to said crease before pressing one to his lips. "can i try something?" she asks.

his crimson orbs finally come into view, though very a limited one at that, as his eyelids open halfway. curious, he raises a brow. "try what, kitten?" he asks, bulky arm still draped across her waist. she meets his eye, and shoots him a small smile before using her hands to push his forearms off her. she then pushes his shoulders away, resulting a displeased grunt to escape his lips. "trust me." she reassures him.

his body molds against the movement of her hands, and soon enough, their positions were switched. sylus's brows are furrowed even deeper, his mouth gaping slightly at the very foreign position. (well, foreign to him.) "sweetie, what are you doing?" he grumbles out, body stiffening as he cranes his neck to meet her eyes.

like carrying a scared cat in your arms for the first time, she hushes gently into his ear, but holds him firmly. "just relax, sy." bewildered, sylus is still unable to settle in this new position. with a hand over his chest, she rubs the area soothingly. she decides not to make a comment about the rapidness she feels. "i just want to hold you like this tonight, my love." not exactly a lie, she truly does. but she knows she's doing it more for him, than she is for herself. and knowing sylus, he'd never admit that he'd need his girlfriend to baby and spoon him like this.

though not immediately, sylus slowly (and very slowly) relaxes, though the confusion on his face remains. he's confused indeed. confused as to why she wants to hold him this way. confused as to why this feels so nice.

sighing grumpily (he thinks) he eases his body into her and feeling him slowly but surely melt into her arms brings a smile to her face. she wonders if he can feel the smile playing on her lips as she presses a kisses to the back of his neck. her hand continues to rub his chest soothingly, and sylus swallows the lump that begun to form in his throat. this feeling was so foreign. to be held, to be comforted - he was sure he had never felt this way ever before. grappled with emotion that he tries to lock away, his large palm reaches back to hold onto the back of her thigh, squeezing it in silent gratitude.

so this is intimacy, he wonders to himself. it wasn't as though the fear and stress for tomorrow's troubles have dissipated completely, yet he knows that this was exactly what he needed to calm his racing mind. even if it was just for tonight. tomorrow, he'll take care of the matters. tonight, he's getting taken care of.

"i'll bring you shopping tomorrow, how about that, hm sweetie?" he suggests. it almost felt like he had to return the favour, taking care of big bad sylus - surely it came with a price right? it felt like this angel's kindness for him must be repaid. chuckling, she shakes her head, pressing another chaste kiss against the warm skin of his neck. "we don't have to, sy. how about we cook dinner together tomorrow, hm? you said you'd teach me how to make that pasta thing you made the other week."

"i'd like that, sweetie." he responds, fully relaxed now in the safety of his lover's arms. "i'll make sure to remind the twins to get the fire extinguisher ready this time." he chuckles, and while she'd usually smack his arm in annoyance, she simply smiles in response, grateful she senses that he's feeling a little better now that he has it in her to tease her.

"hmmm.. i'm going to put extra chillies in your food." she playfully threatens, but the squeeze her arms give around his body tells him that she loves him. and if it doesn't, she tells him anyway.

"go to sleep, sylus. we'll do tomorrow together when we wake up, okay?" she whispers quietly, pressing one last kiss against his shoulder. "i love you very much."

she hears him sigh once more, but this time it mirrors her contented one earlier. wordlessly, she grabs onto one of her hands, bringing it to his lips as he kisses her each one of he knuckles in thanks. "okay. i love you, kitten."

sylus thinks he is determined to change his sleep schedule if this is how safe falling asleep at midnight was going to be like.

[zylusmusings]

you can be both a pretty girl AND a sicko. btw

[zylusmusings]

something that I just feel the need to say: writing can just exist. it doesn't need to be a moral lesson. it doesn't need to be clever. it doesn't need to be righteous. It doesn't need to have shock value. sometimes, a story is just a story and some of y'all need to get a fucking grip on that

[zylusmusings]

I was working through the open trials this morning and had a spicy thought. You know when they step in to block an attack, right?

So, imagine you’ve been arguing with your fave LI about how you can take care of yourself, they don’t need to keep protecting you like you can’t fight, when you’re set upon by enemies and they do need to step in because you didn’t notice how close one was to reaching you.

You’re pissed, and so are they. Once everything is taken care of they are still breathing so heavy, agitated and refusing your touch. You’re a split second away from storming off into the night when they finally snap—grabbing you by the arms and pressing you up against the brickwork.

“Don’t you get it? You’re everything to me, I will always step in. It’s not because I don’t think you can handle yourself, but if I can take the hit instead, then I will.”

[zylusmusings]

sylus gets a wave of deja vu as they have their first dance on their wedding day. they have their foreheads pressed against each other's, quiet murmurs of their wedding guests and their favourite track playing by the live orchestra as they sway gently together.

all sylus can see is her, and he lets out a sigh of relief that he hadn't realise he's been holding as he begins to reflects on the arduous journey the two has shared. from dancing only as a ploy for their mission, to dancing on their own wedding day.

"we always end up dancing, don't we, sweetie?" he huskily whispers, a chuckle ever so gently vibrating off him. his hold on her waist tightens, his fingertips trembling ever so slightly against the silk material of her dress. strong and proud, one would never catch the leader of the big bad onychinus show an atom's worth of weakness.

yet, as he dances with his wife, his fated partner - the gratitude literally shakes off his body. he nearly cannot believe it - the way god had decided it was finally his turn to be shown mercy and miracles, oh just how lucky was he to her husband.

sylus bites back the sound that threatens to escape his throat when he hears the symphony of her gently laugh, and he truly marvels at the shiver that runs down his spine at the sound. his body and soul would forever be at the mercy of this woman, and he silently thanks god for it.

[zylusmusings]

This little nod has me in a chokehold

[zylusmusings]

sabrina carpenter-esque popstar!reader has been in a 5 year long relationship with actor!sylus, and yet somehow the world has no concrete proof that you two are even friends. there are rumors of course, with the amount of times you crossed paths at award shows and events, but they could always be chalked up to something else.

one of your closest friends is part of the cast of a movie sylus stars in, so it's no surprise that you're present at the premiere. seating in award shows are usually at random, and you two just so happened to be sat next to each other. sylus' twin cousins are very vocal about their love for your music, so when fans spot the cover of your album proudly displayed on his bookshelf during a live stream, he pins the blame on luke and kieran messing with his apartment.

fans have been growing suspicious over the years, and tabloids are clamoring for a picture, an instagram post, some insider information- anything they can use to paint you two as something more than possible colleagues.

but they have nothing.

until sylus is spotted in the crowd of the second night of your tour.

the first ever source that does numbers on social media is a shaky fancam taken right before the start of the show from someone sitting a row behind him, the sunglasses he dons doing nothing to hide his identity. except, it seems like you two have no intention of keeping your relationship a secret any longer when you openly interact with him throughout the night, pointing and sending winks at his direction.

and the fans eat it up.

halfway through the show, the internet is flooded with photos of sylus who practically has hearts in his eyes from how he looks at you with so much sheer adoration. there are videos that chaotically pan back and forth between you on the stage and him singing along to your songs word for word. some where he catches fans with their phones towards him, to which he gives them a pointed look and a finger that directs them to take videos of you, not him.

but what really took the cake that night was his reaction to you, dropping down on your knees in a provocative position, while your eyes are locked with his.

his brows shoot up in momentary shock before relaxing into an amused smirk. he chuckles.

so that's why you insisted on keeping details of your performances under wraps? even from him, who's usually the first person to know about every creative thought that runs through your pretty little mind.

five minutes after you step off the stage, sylus posts a photo dump of you on his instagram account that he barely uses. the first of the ten is arguably one of the best taken photos you have in your entire career. sylus managed to capture you in an ethereal, almost other-worldly light, making you look like an angel in the baby pink body suit you have on.

he captions the post with two simple words that cements your relationship to the world.

my girl.

[zylusmusings]

i just know he would do NUMBERS on this site

[zylusmusings]

rafayel - seething flames

[zylusmusings]

the only one

Sylus has a soft spot for you.

sylus ♡ gn!reader

warnings: reader is the protagonist but gender neutral, pre-established relationship, crude & violent descriptions, not proofread

notes: muehehe

You are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

“[Name],” he calls for the nth time. “[Name].” 

Sylus observes the furrow of your brow, the wobbly line of your lips. He notices the way your entire expression scrunches up, the way you visibly gasp when your gaze drifts over the most audacious line of the book you’re reading. 

It’s endearing, really. The way your feelings dance across your face, oblivious to the crimson irises that do the same. Sylus notices all these things about you; he also notices how you don’t notice him, how your attention is fixated wholly on your book, how his adoring looks are bested by an inanimate object and how his terribly-obvious advances are shut down because of printed words on a paper.

Sylus hates losing. He hates being ignored. In fact, Sylus has never been ignored in his life—his sheer presence commands attention, his gaze alone being enough to silence a crowd. When it comes to you, however, his gaze is not enough.

Again, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this.

“[Name].” Sylus has had enough of losing. He reaches for the book and steals it from your hands. 

“Sylus?” you reply, as if he hadn’t been there the entire time. “Since when did you arrive?” 

Oh, he thinks. So, to you, he really hadn’t been there the entire time. 

“Ten minutes ago,” he states coolly. 

“Huh? Why didn’t you call me? Or tell me?”

“I did.”

“Really? Oh, sorry! That book was really getting crazy, I mean, like, the main character was—”

Sylus decides not to mention the part where he gave up. He had tried to get your attention, but somewhere along the way, he opted to sit in your presence instead, perceiving despite not being perceived. 

In the silence, Sylus’s gaze trailed over your features, from the bridge of your nose to the curl of your lips. His red eyes tied knots around your expression, burning the image into his retinas, weaving the strings towards himself, from the base of your pinky to his. Sylus hates being ignored. He hates losing and he hates the idea of not being acknowledged. 

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. 

Everything is different. 

“And then—oh, sorry. Am I boring you with the details?” you suddenly say, becoming bashful. Your pupils avert from his. Sylus is desperate to force them back on him, his brows furrowing ever-so slightly. 

Quicker than he can think, he replies, “Not at all.” 

You look at him. The tension laced into his expression eases. 

“I almost forgot to ask,” you say, switching topics abruptly, “why are you here, Sylus?” 

He chuckles at your bluntness. You are the only one in the world who can talk like that to him.

“I just wanted to see someone.” 

Your eyes widen. Sylus relishes in the sight, unblinking, desperate and wild and oh, utterly miserable. To rely only on sight is a terrible fate, but again, you are the only one in the world who Sylus cannot catch. Your image slips in between his mind, falling through the intangibility of memory and vision. You cannot be contained—your unabashed and radiant spirit, your breathtaking and limitless beauty. You torture him! With thoughts of your existence, with thoughts of your real and incomparable being! 

You—you exist! 

(Sometimes, Sylus can’t believe it. And then he looks at you, and then himself, and he realizes that you are damn near divine. You are damn near intangible, an entity he worships, a concept he follows and offers himself towards. If you were to tell him to dismember himself now, Sylus thinks he would. If you were to ask him for his eyes, he’d tell you to hand him a knife. If you were to ask him for his heart, he’d tell you to take all four chambers.)

“You… you wanted to see me?”

Sylus smirks a little. “Did I say that?” 

Your face erupts with embarrassment. “Hey! You… you!” 

“Me,” he affirms.

(Look at you.)

Mirth flickers across the carmine expanse of his irises, the scarlet of his lips and the crimson within his veins. His pupils catch your for a moment before you look away, covering your expression with the palm of your hand. Sylus is used to people avoiding his gaze, to shying away from his presence out of sheer terror. He prefers it that way, really. It makes his job easier. 

(Look at him.)

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. Sylus doesn’t want you avert your eyes from his—he wants to peer into your soul, to pick apart the temple with his own bloodied hands, to witness for himself the grandness of your presence, the impossibility of your existence. 

(How could he ever believe you exist? When he is terrible and haunted, while you—oh, you—are utterly divine?)

Sylus wants you to perceive him. He wants you to pick him apart, too. To dismember him! To peel apart his skin and come to realize that everything, everything within himself—from the branches of his veins to the curl of his ribs—have only ever flowed back to his heart. 

And you own that heart of his. That wretched, twisted little thing. You own it. And everything else that comes with it. 

“You’re so…!”

“So?” Sylus encourages you to continue, tilting his head slightly. A smirk twists at his lips. He’s enjoying this far too much. 

“Whatever!” You try to snatch the book back from his hands, your movements agile and befitting a hunter. Unfortunately for you, Sylus is used to playing things dirty, so he snaps the novel away with his Evol and calls it a day. 

“Let’s go,” he says, standing up. “You like the arcade, right?” 

You glare at him without saying a word.

You are the only one in the world who would ever make Sylus wait. Still, he obliges.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter.

He hums. “And?” 

“Disrespectful.” 

Sylus’s cool expression remains unfazed. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

You snort. “Who would ever call you that?” 

Only you, he thinks. For some reason, the thought doesn’t irritate him. 

After all, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

(As a matter of fact, to Sylus, you are the only one in the world.)