🔗 RELATED TO THIS AU...
“The Sixth of March” →[Rafayel's bday special];
“Welcome to the dragon's den” →[domestic fluff - oneshot];
“Three crows and a fish” →[prelude to Sylus' bday special];
“A Special Day of April” →[Sylus' bday special];
“An Intruder in the Onychinus Base” →[crack fluff - oneshot];
“I'll tenderly love even the parts of you that you learned to hide” [Rafayel x MC oneshot];
“Loving all of you” [Rafayel x MC ↑ follow-up];
“Let it bloom like a garden of peonies” [Sylus x MC - Mortality's Tenderness AU];
“When properly qualified” [Sylus x MC - work in progress!!];
It's kinda sad that Caleb is so riddled with anxiety that even watching a Hunter cartoon stresses him out. While he did encourage MC to be a Hunter, perhaps seeing the reality of her constantly putting her life in danger is a whole other matter.
Sylus glances up at you, a brow raised. Clearly, he knows the answer.
“Why are you asking?” He sets his gun aside, motioning for you to come closer. You sigh, walking over and sinking down on his lap.
“It’s been…a while. You’re not feeling impatient or anything like that right?” You twist your fingers ever so slightly, afraid to glance up at him.
“Sweetie…look at me.” A warm hand squeezes your shoulder. His tone is soft, so it only takes a second before you glance up to meet his eyes.
“The last thing I feel is impatient. I have no issues with our sex life.” He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, holding you closer to him.
“I just…someone once told me that if don’t have sex with your boyfriend enough he-he won’t love you anymore.”
Sylus tenses underneath you, and for a moment you’re convinced you’ve said the wrong thing. He shifts, moving you to be face to face with him, eyes dead serious as they bore into yours.
“That could not be further from the truth. I will love you until the day I die, and nothing will change that. Nothing.”
"But what if-"
He cuts you off with a kiss, soft lips pressing firmly against yours. Kissing Sylus always shuts your brain off, something you assume was his goal given the way it works almost immediately.
"Nothing will ever change my love for you. If you desired, you could shoot me in the chest again, and I would love you the same." Sylus smiles faintly, but you know there's an unwavering truth in his words.
It heals something in you, enough for you to lean in and press your lips against his once more
kyros and lucian are prompt and pretty by the door as soon as you come home tonight.
rather than the barreling and tripping over each other they do, only realizing you are home with the creak of the door, today, they wait for you patiently. expectantly. like two little butlers, chins up and tummies out, at the ready for your arrival.
“hello, my angels,” you greet, dropping to your knees on the carpet. lucky for them, you’ve changed out of your grime and bloodied uniform into a clean spare. they climb you like a tree and nuzzle their faces on the fabric of your clothes, sniffing the cool remnants of the car’s air conditioner and the scent of your perfume.
kyros kisses your forehead. an imitation of a ritual from a much larger carbon copy of his. “hi, mama.”
he has the decency to beat around the bush for a more affectionate approach.
and lucian turns your face to him, always one to get to the point. skip the bush entirely. burn it, in fact. “mama! gifts!”
“i knew it.” you deadpan, rising to your feet with two toddlers hanging off your arms like grocery bags. “not even a kiss like kyros, cian?”
he giggles. a kiss is planted to your elbow, the only part he can reach as he dangles. “muah! hi, mama!”
“mama, i say—i say hi first,” kyros mutters, wanting to prove a point but not start a fight. so quietly, he tells you, “i get gift?”
you groan fondly, bringing them to the kitchen. “sylus!”
“no! don’t say sy-woos!” lucian cries. he plants more kisses on your elbow, desperation growing by each smooch. “muah! muah! mama, no!”
but it’s too late. your husband, always at your beck and call, exits from his office. just then getting off a phone call from a meeting that has been ended or he has ended at your voice.
“welcome home, sweetie,” just like kyros, he kisses the crown of your head. then zooms out to examine the odd purses you carry. “hm, i don’t remember buying those for you.”
“you made them with me.” you deadpan, offering him one large-eyed tarsier baby hanging on your bicep. he plucks lucian off and places him on the countertop.
kyros tries to wriggle away, but he’s planted next to his brother.
sylus starts. “doctor zayne said—,”
lucian plugs his ears. “don’ike doctor sayne!”
you sigh, prying little fingers from his ears. “doctor zayne said we have to limit sweets. or else your teeth will fall out, angel.”
“but—,” kyros pouts.
“you too, kyros.”
“no, mama— we only wants cow-ds,” kyros insists. he crawls across the counter to grab a few stray hexagons by the edge to bring to you. “see?”
you consider him, as he presents you with two holographic Hunter Association collector cards. one with you coworker, xavier, swinging his light-sword back and forth, and one of captain jenna scanning logs and data. “only have denna and xay-bear. see? see?”
“and me— have mama and mama!” lucian harrumphs, crossing his arms over his chest.
you take offense. grimacing, you ask. “whats wrong with having two of me?”
“i has one, two, three,” lucian glares at sylus, while counting on his fingers. “but papa took three.”
sylus clears his throat. an unmistakable sheen of pink dusts the tips of his ears. “it was an extra one, and you left it in my office.”
you roll your eyes at their father, but dont doubt that its all very endearing. this new little addiction that has united and yet divided your boys all the same. “i think two each is enough.”
“but mama, i want xay-bear!”
“and i want mama!”
“kyros, you can trade with lucian for a mama.” you tell him. but lucian clutches his cards to his chest with a dramatic gasp.
kyros’s eyes begin to well up, his legs kicking in frustration. “he no share!”
lucian’s voice breaks when he retorts. “is my mamas!”
“sweetie, i don’t think you understand how rare you are.” sylus tells you. he tries not to bristle when you glare at him incredulously. “there’s like a one in two hundred chance it’s you.”
someone wails. you don’t know which one first, because the other followed soon after. consumed with grief, betrayal and rejection, your sons sob over their cards helplessly. clutching the shapes to their chests, drenching their sleeves with their snot.
and you shouldn’t. you really, really shouldn’t…
“okay!” you relent. just this once. because you arent about to make a habit of spoiling them because of crocodile tears. “tomorrow, i’ll get you two more.”
they sniffle.
sylus opens his mouth, likely to offer a whole twelve pack of chocolate hunters, but you cut him off. “only two for this week, okay?”
the boys nod. their grief still receding from their bodies at the good news like the waves dragging back to the shore.
“and luke and kieran get the chocolate kitty that comes with the card.”
“okay!”
“aww…”
you swallow, seeing lucian’s still dejected face. you know you have to stay strong, and their pediatrician would be able to tell if they get a handful of sweets just a few days before their next check up, but…
“beloved…” sylus warns.
you give in, “you can share one choco kitty. just one. split in half. sharing.”
that does the trick. like lightning, lucian’s face brightens in a flash. “okay, mama!”
“alright, now go get your pajamas.” you help them off the table and shoo them away from your sight. you don’t understand how your heart thaws and stops at the sight of them happily toddling down the hall to their bedroom.
your hands catch your face and sigh a loud drawn out breath. sylus catches your shoulders and presses you to his chest. “it’s not considered defeat if you get something out of it.”
“and what do i get out of undermining their doctor’s orders for some wet puppy eyes and trembling bottom lips?” you bemoan.
he laughs. but then spins you around and nods towards your sons. “that.”
in the distance, you see lucian hand kyros his one card. and when kyros tries to give him his to trade, lucian shakes his head and hugs him instead. your stomach swoops, filled with the joy of witnessing such a scene.
“they’ll tend to get greedy sometimes, beloved.” sylus presses a tender kiss to your temple, having seen the same thing. “i’ll have to apologize if they get that from me.”
you smile, finally, and circle your arms around his neck. his hands fall just by your waist. “don’t apologize.”
“hm,” he chuckles, tracing a line on your cheek with the tip of his nose. “and suddenly you don’t mind.”
“i never did…” you reassure him. “but stealing from a child, sylus?”
he takes a sharp breath and pulls away, sensing your lilting tone. “he left it in my office.”
you grin, utterly enamored by his devotion. “then give him back his mama.”
he scoffs, having the audacity to flick your forehead.
you gasp and swipe at his hair in retaliation. but he grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back, leaning close enough that you feel the words feather on your lips and shake the earth.
“not a chance.”
ty to @dyeinsomniadontwake for planting the image of marshmallow filled kittycard kitty cats in my head for the candies that come in the box!!! 🥰 theyre so cuTE RARARAR
Summary: After a draining mission, you collapse into an unplanned two-day sleep, leaving Sylus increasingly concerned.
You do not notice how tired you are until you stop moving.
The mission ends cleanly. No loose ends, no lingering danger, just the familiar feeling of adrenaline fading from your system as you make your way home.
You go through the motions without thinking. Shoes off. Jacket discarded somewhere near the door. A glass of water you barely touch.
You sit down for a moment.
The next thing you know, everything is gone.
Sylus notices when you do not answer.
At first, he assumes you are resting. You had mentioned the mission. He knows how those go.
He gives you time. Then some more time.
By the end of the first day, his messages go from casual to pointed.
Report in.
You are ignoring me.
Kitten.
No response.
He does not like that.
By the second day, he stops pretending it does not matter. So, he does the only reasonable thing, and goes over to your place.
Your place is quiet when he arrives.
Too quiet.
He steps inside, eyes assessing the space quickly.
Nothing is disturbed. No signs of struggle. No danger.
Just stillness.
He finds you in your bedroom.
Curled into the sheets, breathing slow and deep, completely unmoving.
For a second, something tightens in his chest.
He crosses the room quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing against your wrist. Checking.
Your pulse is steady.
He exhales, a weight falls off him.
“Unbelievable. You sleep for two days and expect me not to notice.”
You do not stir, his voice is low.
Sylus studies you for a moment longer. Your body slacks with a kind of exhaustion that goes beyond simple tiredness.
He knows this look, because he has done this many times.
You pushed too far.
His thumb brushes lightly over your wrist, calming himself that you are there, alive. You are just tired.
“Reckless,” he adds quietly.
He stands after a moment, adjusting the blanket over you before leaving the room.
The kitchen feels too empty.
He moves through it as if he belongs there, sleeves rolled up, hands steady. He chooses something simple. Something you will actually eat when you wake up. Nothing heavy, nothing complicated.
The quiet is now filled with sounds.
Water running. A pan heating. The rhythm of something being made with care. He hums as he moves through your place.
He checks on you twice.
You do not wake up just yet.
When you finally do wake up, hunger hits first.
You groan softly, pushing yourself upright, head still heavy but clearer than before. The room feels different. Not wrong. Just… occupied.
Then you smell it.
Food.
Real food. And it smells good.
You blink, confused, and force yourself out of bed.
The kitchen light is on and Sylus is sitting at the table, phone in hand, scrolling like he has nowhere else to be.
You stop in the doorway.
“You are in my house.”
He does not even look up.
“You are awake.”
“I could call this breaking and entering.”
“You could try.”
You roll your eyes, stepping further in. Then you see the table.
Plates. Food. Warm. Fresh.
You stare at it, then at him.
“You cooked?”
He finally glances up, expression calm, almost bored.
“Do not sound so surprised.”
“I am surprised.”
“You should eat. Before you pass out again.”
You sit slowly, still processing, and pick up the fork. The first bite is almost embarrassing in its sheer goodness.
“Oh,” you mumble, already reaching for more. “That is unfair.”
“I know what you like.”
“Yes, but you did not have to…”
He cuts you off lightly.
“You were unconscious for two days.”
You freeze mid bite.
“Two days?”
“Yes.”
“That explains a lot.”
“It explains your poor decision-making,” he corrects.
You glance at him, narrowing your eyes slightly.
“You were worried.”
“No.”
“You came over.”
“I was in the area.”
“You cooked.”
“You needed food.”
You smile faintly, shaking your head as you take another bite.
“You were worried.”
He exhales slowly, clearly unimpressed with your persistence.
“You were unavailable. That is inconvenient.”
“Kitten was not answering her messages,” you add sweetly.
“Do not start.”
You grin.
The silence that follows is comfortable.
You eat, and he watches without making it obvious, attention flicking back to his phone every so often like he needs the distraction.
“So,” he says after a moment, “the mission.”
You lean back slightly, sighing.
“Long. Annoying. Too many moving parts.”
“And you decided to handle all of it yourself.”
“I handled it well.”
“You handled it recklessly.”
You tilt your head.
“It worked.”
“That is not the point.”
You study him for a second, softer now.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend you are annoyed when you are actually worried.”
“I am not worried.”
“You checked my pulse.”
He goes very still for half a second. You raise a brow.
“…Habit,” he says finally.
You laugh quietly, warmth spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the food.
“Thank you,” you say, more serious now. “For this.”
He looks at you then, properly.
“It is nothing.”
“It is not nothing.”
“It is basic care,” he replies. “You should try it sometime.”
You smile.
“I am trying now.”
That seems to satisfy him.
You finish eating, leaning back with a long sigh.
“I feel human again.”
“You looked worse than human,” he says dryly.
“Charming.”
“I am known for it.”
You watch him for a moment, something gentle in your expression.
“You stayed.”
He does not hesitate.
“Of course.”
You nod slowly.
“Next time,” he adds, standing up and reaching for the plates, “you inform me before you decide to collapse for two days.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pauses, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk.
“Careful.”
You grin.
The kitchen fills with the sound of him cleaning up, and for the first time since the mission ended, everything feels steady again.
And you know, even if he will never say it, he will always come when you need him.
The role of a princess had always been too tight for her, since when she was little. But everything went worse as her family lost their noble rank due to a horrible scandal and they were condemned to beg for mercy- debiting themselves to regain the illusion of the lost wealth.
Her brother joined a group of mercenaries and took a noblewoman as his wife, leaving the family's decadent palace behind; while Pei Zhi remained among the ruins and attempted to do something to change their conditions.
She wasn't ashamed to work for merchants and lesser nobles. Copying letters, drafting replies, reading contracts aloud — those tasks soothed her more than court etiquette ever had. Of course, it wasn't enough to sustain her parents' high expectations and lifestyle... so recently Pei Zhi began to work in a medical herbs boutique too, where she learned some medicine tips while packing an order and another.
But the hard work that was strengthening her independence and pride was seen as a shameful outrage by her parents' eyes. A princess couldn't lose her dignity like that -submitting to others' orders.
Without her knowledge, they arranged a marriage for her.
There were rumours about a man whose origins were mysterious but his power grew day by day and soon became influential among the lands. The Onychinus estate paraded an intimidating wealth in a land that had been considered merely ruins not long before -the N109 countryside.
Everybody whispered that he had led entire armies for war and returned home carrying one victory after another, hoarding treasures and gold each time. Even the King didn't dare to get in his way, because it was better having a ruthless man who never left enemies alive on the battlefield as a distant ally instead.
Her family couldn't pass up the chance to restore their lost nobility. They didn't think twice to offer their daughter in marriage in exchange for a taste of wealth and power.
Her anger and disdain didn't change her fate.
Her protests fell on deaf ears when the engagement was held and she had to wear a cold metal around her ring finger without having ever seen this man before.
She had heard the rumours too but nothing matched the figure she found in front of her. Those eyes were the same crimson red of the spilled blood.
And as Pei Zhi met his gaze, she realised that her life would never truly be hers again.
[If you're interested in reading more of my works, you can go check my masterlist!]
[To read the past drabble I published → click here!]
“Don't you feel dirty for having corrupted her?”
The deep and rich timbre whispered behind his ear and echoed in his mind like a rotting curse.
A shudder ran down Rafayel's spine and raised goosebumps across his skin. He felt the urge to pull away crawl inside him, his stomach dropping at the implication of those words.
But Rafayel couldn't move.
He was paralysed as if the thick, scaled tail of a monster had just wrapped around his legs and held him captive.
“...playing her like a doll... manipulating her ignorance to have her wrapped around your fingers. And you even dare to title it... a masterpiece.”
The sharpness of his tongue stabbed into Rafayel's chest. An intoxicating, burning ache at the height of his shoulder blades caught his breath.
Anger set his guts aflame.
His indigo eyes turned ice-cold.
“Are you any better?”
Rafayel bit back, tasting venom in his mouth.
His jaw tightened, and after a beat he spoke again through gritted teeth.
“A beast feasting on her innocent soul...?”
[Famous Artist/Criminal Leader] AU ❤️🩹
Rafayel/Sylus POVMLM/BL
Enemies to lovers
Hate
Jealousy
Rivalry
Longing
Past memories
MC as a common [lost] love interest
New-bound
Re-found love
🩸Masterlist
◉ Prologue;
◉ First exchange [draft];
◎ [...]
🔗 Related to this AU
⦿ “The Sixth of March” →[Rafayel's bday special];
⦿ “Welcome to the dragon's den” →[domestic fluff - oneshot];
⦿ “Three crows and a fish” →[prelude to Sylus' bday special];
⦿ “A Special Day of April” →[Sylus' bday special];
⦿ “An intruder in the Onychinus Base” →[crack fluff - oneshot];
❣️Also available as series on AO3!!
[If you're interested in reading more of my works, you can go check my masterlist!]
need infold to release a xav kindle where puffball is just jumping on his fluffy hair and being an adorable lil thing. because let me tell you, i rewatch the little bird on zayne’s head from his spring card last year (fragrant possession) ALL the time. it’s so fucking cute i just can’t
As per the last post I'm now thinking about how interesting the polarisation of Sylus and Caleb is. What Sylus desires more than anything is not to see MC hating or being disgusted by him again, so he softens his claws and restrains his Aether Core to let her set the pace. He's waited for her for so long. He can't drive her away because of his miscalculated move.
For Caleb, he's not someone who puts his desire over logical priority i.e. MC's absolute safety. He can put up with her hating him as long as she's protected and alive. He never thought he could be loved and wanted by her anyway, so why bother?
The line between desire and fear is so thin. It's really man who would do anything to make you feel safe vs man who would do anything to keep you safe. And I fuck with them both.
trying to be the wife that makes sylus cute lunches for work in the morning but the minute you try to sneak off into the kitchen, his grip on your waist is cable-like as a vise, his chin is hooked on your shoulder and half his body weight threatens to crush you.
“where are you going?”
unwilling to give up the surprise, you whisper, “nowhere.”
he scoffs. in hindsight, you could have lied better. but for now, he wins the satisfaction of keeping you pressed against him. “then you don’t have to go.”
you’ll try again. but for now, he kisses your neck and pulls you unbelievably closer. allowing the large puff of your duvet to swallow you both whole.
when he hums, you sigh. okay. lunch can wait til tomorrow.
