Hello, and welcome! I'll keep it as brief as I can, I promise.
Who are you?
➥ Cairo! Well, that's what you know me by. I'm not using my government name on Tumblr. You can find more about me at the link above :)
What do you do?
➥ Write. Or try to, at least. I rely entirely on my ability to use my imagination. Which is my way of saying you will not find any AI generated content on my page.
What do you write?
➥ So glad you asked. I specialize in Sylus fics (anything from a drabble to a full-scale novel), but I will write about other LIs by request. My fortes are angst and smut (which you will realize very quickly), but I'm open to just about anything. The majority of my works will be AUs simply because my imagination takes me many different places.
How often do you post?
➥ No comment. I post when inspiration strikes and when my writer's block allows. I'm a full-time student and a full-time worker, so my time is stretched pretty thin. You can find my masterlist and request guidelines below.
𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 ↓
𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘
→ My requests are always open, but I cannot give you a definitive timeline. Please allow ample time for your request to be written. My masterlist is updated regularly to reflect what is finished and what is in progress.
→ What to include
➥ Your preferred LI (Xavier, Raf, Zayne, or Sylus. I will not be explaining why one is left out. Blame Infold.)
➥ Category (fluff, angst, smut, etc.)
➥ Tropes (enemies to lovers, one bed, "who did this to you," etc.)
➥ Vibes (songs are extremely helpful)
➥ Any details you would like to be included
➥ Length
➥ POV (first {FMC's}, first {MMC's}, or second {FMC focused}. I do not write in third person.)
→ Do not:
➥ Ask for tropes such as SA (committed by MMC), incest/pseudo-incest, abuse (committed by MMC), stalking (committed by MMC), etc. I can include these tropes as backstory, but I will not describe them being committed.
➥ Ask for LI x LI. This is simply not something I write. I am open to MC x LI, Non-MC x LI, AUs, storyline accurate, and so on.
𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘
➥ Midnight Call
𝕺𝖓𝖊-𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
𝕸𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖎-𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗
✧ Note: Written pre-2026. AKA, before I cared about aesthetic formatting and focused mainly on requests and headcanon content.
➥ Sylus Lore Deep Dive
➥ The Dragon's Curse
➥ Love at First Sight, Pt. 1 (X, Z, R)
➥ Love at First Sight, Pt. 2 (S, C)
➥ Nerd HCs
➥ Dad HCs
➥ Nightmare HCs
➥ Medieval HCs
➥ Sassy S/O HCs
➥ Disney Prince HCs
➥ ADHD S/O HCs
➥ LADS x Classical Music
➥ The Twins Lore
➥ Ideal Type HCs
➥ First "I Love You" HCs
➥ Green Flags
➥ Red Flags
➥ Seeing You Dressed Up HCs
➥ Date Idea HCs
➥ Specific Ways They Touch You
➥ Who The LADS Men Are For, Pt. 1
➥ Who The LADS Men Are For, Pt. 2
synopsis: in the backseat of his car. do i need to say more?
cw/tw: sylus x reader. nsfw. mdni. soft dominance. throat holding. edging. public-adjacent settning.
recommended listening
Sylus does not kiss you. His gloved hand settles at your jaw, thumb resting beneath your chin with enough pressure to keep your face lifted. The other hand moves to your hip. He holds you there, arranged over him, your skirt caught high from the climb. The garage light divides his face into scripture and crime.
“Look at you,” he murmurs.
Your breath catches. “Sylus.”
A slight tilt of his head. “Already?”
The word slides under your skin.
Beyond the glass, a guard passes the rear of the vehicle. A shadow glides over the window, distorted by the tint, then disappears. Your while body tightens. Sylus feels it, his fingers press into your hip, while his gaze stays on yours.
“They can't see you,”
The certainty should comfort you, it ruins you instead.
His hand leaves your hip and moves with clean purpose. Jacket pushed from your shoulders, top shoved high enough to bare your ribs, your stomach, the quickened movement beneath your chest. Necessity and access. The practical brutality of a man who knows exactly what he wants from you and refuses to dress his appetite in manners.
Cool air immediatly touches your skin.
His gloved hand follows.
A slow path along your waist, a drag over your ribs. A pause where your breath shudders hardest. He watches the effect before he continues, as if every involuntary betrayal is being entered into evidence.
“You're trembling.”
“No.”
The lie barely survives your mouth.
His thumb moves along the hinge of your jaw.
Almost tender, almost... worse.
“Good.”
The word lands low in your stomach, heat gathers there, thick and humiliating. Your thighs tense around him before you can command them still.
A faint smile touches his mouth. “There she is.”
The first kiss is controlled enough to feel like discipline.
He takes your mouth with no violence, yet nothing about it feels gentle. His lips move against yours with deliberate pressure, giving only what he chooses, withholding the rest until your hands fist in the front of his jacket. Hunger flashes through you. He answers it by slowing down.
A sound slips out of you.
His fingers close at your throat. No squeeze, just an anchor. A reminder, of ownership, of how easily your body has agreed before your mind finishes pretending it has a vote.
The kiss deepens when he permits it.
Then his hand travels down your spine.
Vertebra by vertebra, he drags heat out of you. Your back arches. His palm finds the curve of your ass and holds, then pulls you down against him. The hard length beneath his trousers presses up through layers of clothing. Your breath breaks into his mouth.
“There,” he says against you. “You feel it now.”
Your answer is a needy shift of your hips.
The gloved hand stills you at once.
“Stay exactly where I put you.”
The command empties your head with frightening ease.
His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt, slow enough to be cruel. Along your thigh. Higher. Over the tremor he caused. When he reaches the heat between your legs, he does not grant relief immediately. He rests there, feeling the soaked fabric of your underwear with a calm that makes your face burn.
His eyes lift to yours.
A low sound leaves his chest. “All this from sitting in the dark with me?”
“Sylus, please...”
“Please,” he repeats, thoughtful. His fingers press, just once, right where your body aches. “You say it as though mercy has ever suited me.”
Your palms flatten against his shoulders. The windows begin to fog at the edges, clouding the garage into a grey smear. His breath brushes your lips, and the world narrows to the measured stroke of his fingers over damp cloth.
Finally, he pushes the fabric aside.
The first touch of leather against bare slick heat steals the strenght from your spine.
Your forehead drops toward his shoulder, but his hand at your throat lifts you back up. He wants your face visible, wants to watch every fracture.
“Eyes on me, kitten.”
You obey badly. Beautifully. Your lashes flutter, your mouth parts, your hips try to chase his hand. He allows one slow circle, then another, then withdraws the pressure until you make a ruined little sound.
“Greedy.”
“Sylus...I...I need you.”
“Of course you do.”
No praise could have undone you more thoroughly than his certainty.
He works you open with his fingers in a rhythm too controlled to be called kindness. Slow pressure, a curl that drags pleasure through your body until it reaches your throat and turns vocal. When you begin to move with him, he lets you for three aching seconds, then pins your hips still.
“Breathe.”
You try.
“Again.”
Air enters yours lungs in a broken pull.
His mouth comes to your neck then, teeth grazing over your pulse. Not enough to mark, enough to threaten memory. The glove between your thighs grow slick, obscene in the quiet luxury of the car. Your body clenches around his fingers, heat builds with a terrible, climbing pressure.
“Don't,” he says softly.
A sob catches in your chest. “Sylus.”
“Not yet.”
Cruelty has a sound. Tonight it is his voice in your ear, calm enough to make obedience feel holy. The edge recedes under his control. He slows until the pleasure becomes ache, then ache becomes pleading. Your nails dig into his jacket. Your thighs shake around him, uselessly strong, helplessly spread.
When he starts again, the rhythm is deeper.
Pressure floods you, your head tips back. The roof of the car blurs above you, black leather and dim light, and the fogged windows seal the two of you away from every law the outside world still believes in.
“Again,” he says.
The second climb is worse because you know he will take it from you.
He brings you there with devastating patience. Fingers bruied inside you, thumb circling that swollen point of need, mouth grazing your jaw without offering a kiss. Every nerve tightens. Your body lifts toward release with blind faith, and he feels it before you can hide it.
His hand leaves your throat and clamps around your hip.
“Hold it.”
Your whole body fights him.
“I can't.”
“You can.” His forehead touches yours. His voice drops into something almost tender and all the more merciless for it. “You will.”
Tears sting your eyes, pleasure turns sharp. Too much, too close. He keeps you there, trembling on the lip of it. Then, with a small shift of his hand, he lets the world split.
Release tears through you hard enough to bow your back. Sound spills from your mouth before you can swallow it. His hand returns to your throat, holding you steady while the waves shatter through your hips, your stomach, your thighs. He watches you fall apart as though this is the only confession he accepts.
“That's it,” he murmurs. “Give me all of it.”
You're shaking when he frees himself.
The sound of his belt in the dimness makes your body clench around nothing.
Sylus does not hurry, he never hurries when he knows you're already ruined. His trousers open with a quiet rasp. His cock slips into his hand, hard and thick, the sight of him making your mouth go dry. He strokes himself once while looking at you. Once, slowly, as if your gaze is another glove on him.
Your thighs tremble.
He notices.
“Come here,” he says again, softer this time, worse for it.
His hands guide your hips, no frantic pull, no loss of control. He positions you above him again with the careful authority of a man lowering a blade into its sheath.
The first press steals your breath.
Your body opens around the head of him with slow resistance, wet, aching. His jaw tightens for the first time all night. That small fraction in his composure sends a dark thrill through you.
“There,” he says. “Slowly.”
He drags you down inch by inch.
The stretch borders on unbearable. Your hands clutch his shoulders, his fingers dig into your hips, not bruising but promising they could. When you falter, he holds you suspended there, filled halfway, shaking.
“Take me.”
You whimper.
“All of it.”
Another measured pull, another surrender. Your body yields around him with a deep, slick ache, and when he finally seats you fully in his lap, the car shifts under the weight of it. Leather screams beneath your knees. Breath leaves both of you at once.
His forehead meets yours. His eyes are dark, almost fevered now, though his hands remain steady.
“That's it,” he breathes. “All of it.”
Your hips make a helpless little circle.
His fingers tighten.
“Careful.”
The warning arrives too late. Need has already eaten through shake. You grind down against him, and the friction pulls a broken sound from your throat. Sylus exhales through his nose, then grips your waist and begins to move you himself.
Slow.
Deep.
Punishing in its restraint.
Each drag of him inside you feels deliberate, almost ceremonial. He lifts you just enough to make absence hurt, then pulls you down until fullness blooms hot through your belly. Again. Again. The rhythm gathers weight. Your palms slide against the glass beside him, leaving a blurred print in the fog. The outside world becomes a smear of concrete and white light while your body learns the exact shape of his control.
“Don't think,” he says between thrusts. “Just take me.”
Your mouth opens around his name.
He catches it with a kiss.
This one is hunger finally allowed its teeth.
His tongue presses into your mouth as his hips drive up, and the careful pace fractures into something darker. Still measured, yet the force behind it makes the suspension rock and the seat groan beneath you. His hand slides under your skirt to grip bare skin. Your underwear is ruined, twisted aside, soaked against your thigh.
Pleasure starts climbing again, faster now, fed by the thick drag of him inside you.
He feels it.
He always does.
His mouth leaves yours. “Already?”
You shake your head, breathless and useless.
“Liar.”
He changes the angle. The next thrust strikes so deep your vision sparks. A cry tears free, his hand closes at your throat again, and your body clenches around him in answer, slick heat pulsing hard enough to make his breath roughen.
“Do you hear yourself?” he asks. “In my car, in my garage. Surrounded by my men.”
Your face burns, your body tightens.
His smile turns lethal. “You like being reminded.”
The words push you closer than the thrusts do.
Sylus keeps you there, grinding you down onto him while he holds your gaze. Every stroke becomes a command written inside your body. Pressure swells, your thighs fail. His arms take over, lifting and lowering you with frightening ease, reducing your strength to an ornament.
“Sylus,” you gasp.
“I know.”
“Please.”
“I know.”
He makes you wait one breath longer.
Then his hand shifts, his thumb finds you again, and the final restraint breaks.
You come around him with a cry you cannot bury, body locking, heat pulsing in violent waves. He holds you through it, thrusting up into the tight spasms, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on your face as if your ruin feeds something sacred and starved in him.
Only when your body goes soft from the force of it does he follow.
His grip turns brutal for one heartbeat. A low sound breaks from him, controlled at the edges, dark at the centre. He buries himself deep and keeps you there while his release spills hot inside you. The stillness afterward feels less like peace than aftermath.
For several seconds, only breathing exists.
Your forehead rests against his shoulder. His hand remains at your throat, lighter now, thumb resting over your pulse as though he owns its rhythm. Sweat cools along your spine, the windows are fully clouded. Outside, footsteps pass again, unaware of the confession sealed in leather and heat, in this den of sin.
I love the idea of Sylus kneeling down in front of you.
He's power incarnate physically and mentally and everything in between. His spine is always straight, shoulders drawn back, walking slowly and so sure of every step.
But when you're angry at him, not talking to him? Depriving him from your touch and affection? His power crumbles. All the things he does, his empire, his money – you are the reason for them. So, when all you give Sylus is coldness, his heart shatters in pieces and he would do just about anything to get your love back.
When he sees you, legs crossed on the black leather sofa in his bedroom, ignoring his presence, his heart can't take it anymore. His steps guide him in front of you, hands ready to caress your hand, but you stop him by placing your foot on his abdomen.
His large hands carefully hold your ankle as he gets on his knees, caressing and kissing the exposed and sensitive skin. Ruby red eyes fixate on your face, watching for any expression that would mean he's absolved of his sins. Sylus' lips and hands continue to move upwards slowly, and he knows your resolve is crumbling kiss by kiss, touch by touch.
When he reaches your knees with his lips all you do is pull his head in your lap softly and he happily obliges. Your fingers tangle in his snowy locks, pleasantly scratching his scalp. Sylus doesn't try to get up, but gets closer and closes his eyes as you finally give him the warmth he craved for so long.
You swear you can hear something that sounds like a soft purr coming from him.
~~~~~~~
Edit: Hello!! I want to say thank you to all of you for all the love you are giving this post. I am working on some other drabble and the next chapter of Razor's grip. You can check my masterlist here and I hope you'll enjoy my other works. Love y'all!❤️❤️❤️
Nothing slapped my shit back into place like someone pointing out that the "genius gifted child with so much potential who got burnout and mental illness" is just the nerd equivalent to the jock "could have been a pro at sportsball if it wasn't for the injury".
Pairing: Ex!Sylus x Non-MC Reader
Trope: Slight angst, no comfort
Playing: Promise - Laufey
Synopsis: Two months after your break-up with Sylus, you find yourself unable to sleep. Unfortunately, only one person is awake at that time of night.
Author's note: Did I think of this while listening to Laufey in the shower? Yes. Am I writing this at 10pm despite having work in the morning? Also yes. I'm writing it anyways.
You groaned as you rolled over to check the clock on your nightstand for the umpteenth time that night. 1:43 AM. Lovely. You had to be up for work in less than five hours, but it wasn't like you were trying to stay awake. You had tried every trick in the book. Melatonin, chamomile tea, Nyquil, even doomscrolling on your phone until you reached depths of the internet that you didn't even know existed. You didn't get so much as a yawn out of any of it.
You rolled onto your back, letting out a short huff. As if trying to fall asleep wasn't frustrating enough, there was very little you could do about it. If Nyquil couldn't knock you out, nothing could. You were halfway to accepting your sleepless fate when you glanced at your phone.
Chances were, none of your friends were awake. Everyone had jobs, or significant others - and you had learned your lesson about calling any of those friends in the middle of the night. There was, however, one person that was undoubtedly awake. You hadn't spoken in nearly two months, though. The chances of him picking up were slim to none.
Regardless of the tiny voice in your head screaming at you to stop, you picked up your phone and dialed his number before you could backtrack. It rang, and rang, and rang. Just as you thought. He had no reason to answer, really.
"Hello?" An all-too-familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts.
"Hi," you replied, suddenly regretting ever picking up your phone. Not only was this a horrible idea, but it was downright strange. Calling your ex-boyfriend in the middle of the night? Talk about seeming desperate.
"Hi," Sylus said. He said it slowly, like he was even contemplating ending the call before it had truly begun.
A beat of silence. Two. Three.
"Why did you call me?" He asked, his confusion evident in his tone.
You tried to think of an answer better than the one you had, but nothing came to mind. Maybe the Nyquil had kicked in. "I, um...I couldn't sleep."
"Ah."
"You're the only person I know who's awake at this time of night, so," you continued, as if it would make your reason for calling any more plausible.
Sylus chuckled quietly on the other side of the phone. "Suddenly my schedule is convenient for you."
You fell silent. He wasn't wrong. The main reason you had broken up was because of the difference in your schedules. When you were getting up for work, Sylus was going to bed. And when he was starting his day, you were ending yours. Between the way your work had piled up and the increase in his business trips, you were lucky to get half an hour together.
You had been able to deal with it, for a time. Eventually, though, reality had caught up. You couldn't maintain a relationship through scarcely answered texts and occasional phone calls. It had become more and more painful over the months, and eventually, you had reached a breaking point.
What made it worse was the fact that neither of you had truly wanted to end things. You had loved him - and still did, if you were being honest with yourself. Lying was more comfortable nowadays. The what-ifs haunted you like the ghost of a person you had wronged in a past life. But, there was no going back. And there was no future where your schedules would allow for what you wanted.
"Sylus," you said lowly, somewhere between a scold and a plea for him to not continue with that train of thought.
"I apologize. That was...uncalled for," he replied. Another beat of silence followed. Neither of you knew exactly what to say. "Why can't you sleep? Something on your mind?"
"No. I don't think so, at least. I've just been tossing and turning all night."
"Ah, so this is a last resort," he chuckled again. "Well, since I'm here, how can I help?"
"I don't know," you sighed, shifting in your bed to get more comfortable. "Just...tell me about work or something."
Sylus began talking about his most recent escapades. Auctions, meetings, trips - nothing out of the ordinary for him. It reminded you of the mornings he would bring breakfast to your apartment and vent about the incompetent men he had met with just hours before. The thought almost brought a smile to your face. Almost.
He had never missed a chance to go out of his way for you. He would bring you breakfast after a long night, have his chef make dinner for you while he drew you a bath, schedule a lunch delivery so that you wouldn't "forget" to eat again. And, in the end, it hadn't been enough.
As much as you had appreciated those things, they didn't compare to spending time with him. Your date nights had gradually disappeared, instead being replaced by your overtime or his urgent meetings. Seeing him became a rarity. You had both tried to make time, but there were only so many hours in a day. In the end, it had worn you down enough to make you do the unthinkable. Not only did you never see him, but you had lost him completely.
After several minutes of listening to him ramble on about his business dealings, a yawn escaped your lips. You had been so lost in your own thoughts and the familiar sound of his voice that you hadn't noticed your eyes growing heavy.
"Tired already?" Sylus asked, a note of a tease in his tone. "I didn't realize my work was so sleep-inducing."
"It's not, I just-" A yawn interrupted your words. "I think all the melatonin I took earlier is kicking in."
"Of course," he replied. He sounded like he knew exactly what you did - it wasn't the melatonin at all. "Well, I'll let you get some sleep then."
"Right."
You were both silent for a long moment. You unconsciously pressed the phone closer to your ear, as if it would keep the call going longer. It felt like the only string left connecting the two of you, and you found yourself reluctant to let it go. But holding onto a rope too tightly would only result in burning your hands.
"Thank you," you said quietly. "I know this was...unexpected. I appreciate you picking up."
He didn't respond for a few seconds. "Of course, sweetheart. It was good to hear your voice again."
There was a barely perceptible break in his voice. One you had learned how to notice a long time ago. You swallowed roughly, a lump forming in the back of your throat as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.
"Yours too."
Something deep in your chest clenched. A longing that you had desperately tried to bury under the lies that you told yourself. You had dated before, but those breakups had felt more like a relief than anything else. This was suffocating. All-consuming. Like a world without him simply didn't exist. But it did, and you had to live it. You didn't have a choice in that.
"Hey." His voice broke the silence that you had fallen into.
"Yeah?"
"Please don't call me again."
You had listened, it seemed. Your unique ringtone never played from his phone after that night, and the ring box in his nightstand remained untouched.
Hello hello! I'm so glad you're here :)
Here's a little bit about me, if you even care.
𝕷𝕬𝕯𝕾 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔
➥ I started playing LADS in January 2025 after (TMI) I got out of an extremely toxic relationship. Needless to say I'm healed and my standards have skyrocketed.
➥ I downloaded the game because Sylus kept showing up on my TikTok FYP. Started the game for him and I've kept the game for him. However, I spend heinous amounts of money on any card I like (the myths and that one card of Caleb making breakfast...)
➥ My hunter number is 82001716552 if you concern yourself with your friends list. At least I can send you some stamina or something.
𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝕱𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖘
➥ I'm a college student (yay for me), but luckily, I'm graduating with my BA in Sociology in May 2026!
➥ I'm moving to Scotland in August 2026 to pursue my Master's in International Marketing. The US isn't doing it for me.
➥ I'm a 2003 baby. I'm starting to feel old.
➥ My big three are Leo (sun), Gemini (moon), and Scorpio (rising). No, I'm not okay, if you were wondering.
➥ I am in the process of writing my debut novel, which somehow turned into a trilogy. Going the romantasy route really gave my imagination something to run with, apparently. Look for me in your local Barnes & Noble in like...5 years.
➥ I have two cats, Sampson and Juniper. Sampson would be a Xavier main and Juniper would be a Rafayel main. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. They told me so.
➥ My favs: red, Dr. Pepper, anime, romantasy books, Ana Huang, Sleep Token, the Epic soundtrack, Game of Thrones, DRAGONS, perfume collecting, and rage-baiting men on social media.
I hope you find something you like on my page! (Please I thrive on external validation.)
Caleb wasn’t the only character assassinated this update
I was so morbidly fascinated by the debacle that was incestfold exploding on twitter that I didn’t even think to consume any other content from this catastrophic event. That was until I saw a snippet from the Rafayel card, which had me running to YouTube.
I watched it, and I actually got really triggered by the MC in Rafayel’s card and had to take a break halfway through. I’m so serious when I say guillotine. Immediately. Take her away. If you’ve ever dealt with colonial trauma please please be cautious if you’re going to read this card.
This is probably one of the most deplorable and morally reprehensible she has ever been in this game and it is genuinely nauseating how entirely lacking in metatextual awareness the writing is about it. They see absolutely nothing wrong with the fact that she told Rafayel that the reason his people were slaughtered and enslaved to mine resources by her own Empire was because they were weak.
Many other awful writing choices are made and it culminates in one day of relationship-building, followed by MC renewing colonial efforts with blockades on Rafayel’s home planet for a month, then when they meet again he jokes that it seems like they’re eloping. They turned Rafayel into an empty husk for romance. They’ve bound and gagged him with romance strings and tugged him along a bullshit narrative that is an embarrassment to his prior anti-colonial character writing.
They end up being “conspirators” (this pipeline is nonsensical in the full story too, I promise that context won’t help). What this means is that the mining rights to the resource of the indigenous people of Rafayel’s planet which MC’s Empire is an active colonizer of is split between her domain and Rafayel’s. The writers made him into an active imperial agent. They completely betrayed every single thing about his character.
i try to be a let it play out kind of person because i don’t like getting worked up over nothing and i’d hoped that that would prove beneficial here. after the trailer i thought full context would end up making things better but i guess i was fucking wrong! “imperial thronesong” spoilers and tw: blood-related incest below
for context:
i have never particularly cared about which version of caleb’s trope does what because 1) his character is more than a trope to me and 2) i’m in the minority of people who don’t see that big of a difference between languages. if something says childhood friend or gal pal i say yeah sure and move on because the core of the story is what’s important to me
i understand that this is fiction. i write fiction. i have an english degree. but even more than it being fictional or not i think my biggest problem is what the fuck this was handled horribly
IF any part of this turns out to be a mistranslation or awkward translation
1) it didn’t have to be and wouldn’t have been if they weren’t so dedicated to using vague language, 2) they easily could’ve said “brother by oath” or literally anything else to make things clear, 3) it’s laughably irresponsible
marketing ethics? hello??
in the promo materials infold used scare quotes around “sister” and “brother,” which under any other circumstance would be to imply they weren’t related by blood. this is not the case. not even close to the case. and it’s just scummy advertising like why would you intentionally mislead people into believing they weren’t related just to jumpscare them into consuming and potentially spending money on a depiction of real incest. without any sort of genuine content warning at that
even if they were blood related before this in any other language, which i’m pretty sure isn’t the case, they never were in english until now. hell, they weren't even pseudo-siblings in english until now and they just jumped straight to the real thing. how do you as a company tell a casual fan who only plays in english and stays offline that the person you've been marketing as their friend for a year is now supposed to be their biological brother
childhood friend vs. adoptive brother trope supporters
maybe i’m just insane, idk it feels like it, but is this not a lose-lose situation? it’s obvious on the childhood friend side, but the adoptive brother enjoyers’ main reasoning for liking that trope is generally that they’re not blood-related—that that’s part of the appeal, that that was a safety net from crossing over into darker things. this card is presenting an entirely new relationship dynamic which is different from what both sides have been arguing about for a year now. all of that time and energy just for both sides to be screwed over and have their arguments invalidated
“i always favored the original trope i knew the original trope was right i’m so right for liking the original trope and everyone else is wrong”
this card is not the original trope
the “from the same source” line
there’s a difference between having the same creator or being concocted in the same test tube and being blood-related siblings in the standard biological sense. both the main story and his limited myth are talking about experimentation on children with superpowers in a world where aliens exist. so forgive me if i thought that line could be taken in a non-literal/sci-fi/cosmic space shit sense. even if they’re supposed to be modeled after adam and eve that still has a pretty significant level of divinity involved i’d say
fandom interactions/fandom-wide repercussions
why is anyone making fun of anyone else for having limits or being uncomfortable? how are people being made out to be losers or prudes for not being comfortable with an incest fantasy? if you are comfortable with it that’s none of my business. but not everyone is going to be, especially if they feel that they’ve been blindsided
how are we blaming childhood friend trope enjoyers for consuming the content that was given to them? how does this turn into a “you should have known better,” “you should have expected this” situation when they’ve been receiving the opposite for a year? if anything, this is infold’s fault for making everything so ambiguous and inconsistent in the first place. that way of consuming his character doesn’t exist (at least not at full strength) without them enabling and reinforcing it
i understand that some caleb mains are really fucking annoying so this is a gotcha moment for some people, but if you’re somebody who’s rejoicing at this and calling it karma—it affects you too? even if it’s to a lesser extent, you’re still playing the same game. this could easily happen with any other love interest. not to mention this is going to taint the game’s reputation for non-players even further? if i had the choice i would rather be accused of playing a “gooner game” every day of my life than take whatever the hell kind of scrutiny this is going to spawn
this was already a hellish fandom to be in (though tumblr is much better than twitter) but literally how is this supposed to be an enjoyable space now, unless you just ignore probably half/most of everything. whether you like him or not this isn’t just going to go away
it’s just an AU!
literally no matter what they do with his story and memories in any language from now on this is going to be attached to his character and the game as a whole forever. my brain is already starting to reframe past interactions even though it knows they weren’t done in this context because the power of association is just that strong. i don’t want something that has brought me comfort for so long to be reduced to controversy
but other people are fans of way worse things!
okay?
the story is just like game of thrones!
i didn’t watch game of thrones also this is a romance game that encourages players to self-insert
stop playing the game!
this literally happened 12 hours ago. i’ve spent time and money and effort on this game. i made this blog for this game. i started writing creatively because of this game. and i think i am allowed to react to it
the other LIs murder people!
well they do it without being my blood-related brother who fucks me sometimes, don’t they
for all those who are downplaying this specific trope in the new card, where incest is CLEARLY established, i will remind you Infold has raked in almost a billion dollars this year alone from the game. they have and use the resources to ensure proper English translations and to make the game fully accessible/understandable to English-speaking players. that means every decision they make is fully intentional and planned out, ESPECIALLY those concerning how the LI x mc relationships are established.
do NOT defend a multi-million dollar company for something they purposefully CHOSE to pursue knowing full well what “brother by blood” means in English. Infold wanted and created an incestuous relationship between Caleb and mc in this AU. i don’t think i can emphasize that any more plainly.
please do not attack other players for what the game’s company produced and released to its eng audience. this is on no one but Infold.
And another thing: if Infold doesn’t draw the line at incest, where do they draw the line? I’m worried that this kind of content opens the door to far more controversial ideas for future events. Surely there has to be a boundary they won’t cross, but I’m not so confident anymore.
Hello and Happy New Year! I've decided to rise from the dead because it seems Infold has a bit of a scandal on their hands following the update on 12/31.
Disclaimer: This is not a criticism of Caleb as a character, nor is it meant to ostracize or insult his fanbase. This is purely a critique of Infold itself.
With that out of the way, let's discuss.
From the very beginning of Caleb's storyline, the trope has been...controversial, at best. Many claim pseudo-incest, others simply say it's a play on the forbidden love trope. Either way, there have been a lot of criticisms.
In my personal opinion, there is nothing wrong with his original trope. He and MC were adoptive siblings, both saved by Josephine from EVER. Following Caleb's "death," their adoptive ties were legally cut (see the text from Linkon City to MC, specifically the translated from Chinese version). Caleb never pursued MC romantically while they were living under the same roof. Even afterwards, his hesitance is obvious, especially in his cards. He has always put MC's comfort as his top priority, and only after she began opening up romantically did he pursue a relationship with her.
Now, in the 12/31 AU event, Infold seems to have shifted things. MC and Caleb refer to each other as brother and sister, and it is specifically stated that they are blood-related. And, of course, they proceed to indulge in some NSFW activities. That, by definition, is incest.
For reference, incest is illegal in the vast majority of countries - including Singapore, where Infold is based. Granted, I have only seen the English version of the card, so I'm not even sure if this critique applies to other language versions. Assuming it is only in the English version, there is obviously a lot to be said.
I have seen the "gege" thing more times than I can count, and I'd like to help set the record straight on that topic. "Gege" is a Chinese honorific used for brothers and/or older males. While it can be used in various contexts, there is a very distinct line between using it for family, friends, romantic partners, etc. In the Chinese language, it would be virtually impossible to confuse the nuance behind it. This ultimately means that MC calling Caleb "gege" in the Chinese version never had to mean that she was calling him her brother - it could have been a term of endearment, a term for respect, or simply a friendly thing, depending on the context.
Assuming Infold has native English speakers working as translators, they would know that Asian honorifics have no direct translation in English, as we do not have anything similar. To keep the same nuance, they would need to reword the sentence entirely. It seems they've done this in the past, so why they consciously chose to make them incestuous remains a mystery to me. How many times was this discussed? And who signed off on it?
Disregarding the legality of the relationship, everyone has to admit that experiencing that exchange - especially without prior knowledge of their familial relationship - is extremely uncomfortable. There is absolutely no warning about the nature of their relationship - save for the trailer, which doesn't even mention anything past Caleb calling MC "little sister." Even that could be debated as being a joke or a tease. Blatantly saying that they are blood-related is not so easily dismissed.
We have to take into account several things. First, LADS has an age requirement of 13+. Granted, I was reading lemons on Wattpad at 13, but I certainly wasn't exposing myself to sexual, incestuous relationships. Second, too many people have experienced physical, mental, and sexual abuse at the hands of their family members. This card could very well be a trigger for that trauma, especially considering there is no warning attached. And third, perpetuating a sexual relationship between a brother and sister is flat out disgusting - I don't think that can be debated. If incest is not a boundary, what is?
Caleb is a complex character with a beautiful story, and his love for MC shines through in everything he does. To have his character overshadowed by this card truly upsets me. Caleb fans have been the subject of numerous jokes, arguments, discussions, and insults, and Infold certainly hasn't helped. The LADS men are comfort characters for many people - myself included - and to have something like this tainting that is heartbreaking. Every fan, no matter their main, deserves quality content that they can enjoy.
From a Sylus main to all the Caleb girls, I'm sorry, and I will ride at dawn for you.
Edit: If you feel so inclined, here is a link to a petition to have the AU card adapted.
Hello lovelies, I'm new to Tumblr and writing in general, but I really hope you enjoy this little one piece! I love me some Xavier, smut, and a bit of angst with happy endings, so hopefully I did justice to all three :))
For context, mc and Xavier had a big fight that left their relationship in shambles. After a week of no contact, Xavier suddenly appears before mc, and one thing leads to another hehe...
Echoes of our argument ring through my ears, the harsh words exchanged still managing to make my heart race. I hate you, yelled a voice like mine, although laced with a venomous absolution that I hardly recognize. The feeling is mutual, a male rasps back, his tone twinged with pain and indignation.
The sudden ding of the elevator jolts me out of my flashback. As the doors slowly open to the fifth floor, I glance down at my hunter’s watch that flashes 2:03 AM across my wrist. With a quick shake of my head, I refocus on the hallway before me and will myself forward to unit 507, despite an aching heaviness clawing at my chest.
I make it only a few steps, though, before I come to an abrupt halt. Lying next to my door is a sleeping figure with their back against the wall, knees to their chest, and head resting downwards between their arms. The person’s only identifying markers are silvery hair and an all too familiar white sweater. Xavier.
As if awoken by my thoughts, he slowly lifts up his head. He blinks a few times before his sleep-laden eyes widen with recognition. Xavier scrambles to his feet and calls out my name in a groggy voice, his eyebrows slightly furrowing.
Time seems to stop as we stand at each end of the hallway, frozen in place, entering what feels like an intense staring contest. Neither of us dare to blink, to breathe, as we both simply exist together in this moment that feels too fragile to be real.
I’m not sure how long we stood there, but the invisible string connecting us suddenly tugs forward when Xavier takes a step in my direction.
Then another.
And another.
Without realizing, we both are running until our bodies collide into an embrace. My arms instantly wrap around his neck as he pulls me into his chest, lifting me off the ground in the process. I crash my lips against his and run one hand up through his hair, tugging a tuft between my fingers to jerk his head down. He eagerly matches my kiss with the same intensity while backing me into the nearest wall. My hands travel down his chest while he pulls my thighs up to straddle his waist. I accidentally rub against his arousal when his hands squeeze my ass, straining out simultaneous moans from the both of us.
His scent is intoxicating– a subtle mixture of linen, vanilla, and cedarwood. It overwhelms my senses as I devour the familiarity of his touch like a starved animal. This hunger feels insatiable when Xavier deepens the kiss and slightly sucks in my bottom lip between his teeth. We continue to explore each other’s mouths, as if searching for the words left unspoken that night to numb the ones that were thrown like daggers.
Much to his disappointment, I detach my lips from Xavier’s with a puckering noise, only for my mouth to reconnect a second later to his chin. I then move across his jawline with a trail of kisses until finding that particularly sensitive spot below his ear. Xavier shudders as I start suckling at the skin, then lick at the freshly laid hickey that marks him as mine.
Xavier, growing restless, carries me over to my door and guides my hand toward the touchpad. It scans my thumb before opening with a click. He pushes the door open with his foot and quickly kicks it shut behind him once we’re inside. I continue my onslaught of sloppy kisses along his neck and exposed collarbone, one hand venturing under his sweater while the other grips his shoulder.
Fed up with my antics, Xavier untangles my legs from around his waist until I’m standing upright, then immediately spins me around and pins me to the door. I let out a gasp when my stomach flattens against the cold metal. The chill quickly subsides though as I’m enveloped in his warmth, Xavier’s body pressing against mine in a rhythmic motion. He tilts my chin up with his left hand, guiding my mouth to his, while his other hand brings my right arm above my head, fingers intertwined.
Between his slightly bruised lips, drunken gaze, and erection that begs for release, my mind reduces to nothing but pure, hot desire. I snake my free hand up to the nape of Xavier’s neck, grounding him to me, afraid that he will vanish like a wisp of a dream.
We stay like this–kissing feverishly while he grinds against me–until Xavier parts from my mouth and picks me up once more, this time bridal style.
As he walks us toward my bedroom, I just simply look at him. Although it has only been a week since our last encounter, I find myself ogling at Xavier similar to the first time we had met. His stoic yet delicate features make him look otherworldly, especially when the moonlight from a nearby window spills across his smooth, pale skin. Transfixed, I trace the tip of my index finger over the arch of his brow, down his cheekbone, and over to the corner of his mouth. Xavier leans into my touch, tilting his head down to feather a kiss atop my finger. His bright blue eyes, now peering into mine, glimmer with adoration, lust, and an underlying sadness I can’t quite decipher.
Before I can investigate further, though, Xavier gently lays me on my back across my bed. I prop myself up on my forearms as he takes off my combat boots, gun belt, and pants. When I’m reduced to my underwear, Xavier licks his lips nervously, glancing up at me for permission. I nod my head once and watch as he tenderly slips off my laced panties, taking his time to drag his fingers along my legs until I have nothing on from the waist down. I clench unconsciously in anticipation when Xavier kneels before me and scoots my body forward towards him. He places my thighs on either of his shoulders, bringing my already wet pussy inches from his mouth.
Xavier eagerly dips his head down and begins trailing kisses up my inner thigh– lightly at first, then gradually with more pressure the closer he comes to my lips. My head drops back and I let out a groan when his flattened tongue makes contact against my soaked folds. I roll my hips forward as heat pools into my lower stomach, earning a low hum from Xavier. The vibrations from his voice heighten the pleasure radiating up my body, making me grip onto his hair to silently communicate don’t stop. He tightens his grip around my thighs as he laps his tongue across my clit.
Moans escape my mouth as he sucks and licks me without relent. My walls begin to pulsate when Xavier circles two fingers around my entrance. I spread my legs out more as he pushes them in deeply, then thrusts his fingers in-and-out with quick precision. Squelching noises fill the air as he drives me into a climax, making me curse when the edges of my vision blur from overwhelming ecstasy.
I feel cum trickle out onto the bed, but I’m too distracted to notice when I glance at Xavier standing before me. My breath hitches as he pulls off his sweater to reveal tight abs and the bulge crammed against his jeans. He chuckles softly at my reaction, then slowly undoes his pants until only his boxer shorts are left.
Xavier attempts to climb on top of me, but I wrap my legs around his waist and push him into the mattress while bringing myself up into a straddling position. I bend down and press my lips against his, this kiss softer and more sensual than the desperate ones from earlier. His hands grab onto my hips as I slowly grind against his dick, coaxing out an unrestrained whimper from Xavier that I catch with my mouth.
I keep one hand cupped to his cheek while the other glides down his chest towards his waistband. I teasingly pull on the fabric, eliciting a rather frustrated groan from Xavier, before I reach down and palm him beneath his boxers.
His penis is slick with pre-cum, allowing me to draw my hand along his dick with ease. I start at an achingly slow pace, enjoying the haphazard sounds I prod out from him. Xavier attempts to sit up–probably to switch positions–but I pin him down with my legs and one hand to his chest. I squeeze his dick hard as punishment, making Xavier let out a loud groan in response.
He gives me a withering look that falters into longing when I raise myself up, pull down his underwear, and release his erection. With a crooked smirk, I drag my hand along his length before guiding his tip to my entrance. The skin-to-skin contact has me bite back a moan while Xavier closes his eyes with a shudder. I start rocking my hips back-and-forth, letting his dick barely graze my skin. Whether out of impulse or impatience, Xavier suddenly thrusts upwards, entering me right when we’re aligned.
My head drops back as Xavier inches into my cunt, his fingers digging into my sides to push me down while keeping me centered. The seconds of agonizing stretch turns into unrelenting pleasure as my walls clench around him in familiar greeting. I let out a blissful sigh before Xavier begins to thrust up into me at an unrelenting speed. My hands land on his chest for support as a series of moans escape my lips. Once I regain some of my willpower, I match his pace as I bounce on top of him, my ass making contact with his balls whenever his hips buck upwards.
The slapping of skin becomes louder and more erratic as we both approach our climax. As his hips drop back onto the bed after another thrust, I swiftly press down over his full length until he’s bottomed out. Xavier moans then cusses out loud while my mind goes to mush. All I can register is his whole length inside of me as I grind against him, my walls pulsating and clenching uncontrollably. Xavier squeezes my ass with one hand and rubs my clit fast with the other until I’m riding out an orgasm that makes me see stars. I cry out Xavier’s name as I enter a second wave of pleasure, him following suit a few seconds later when I feel warm cum spill into my own.
I collapse onto Xavier’s chest with him still inside me, my heartbeat pounding in my ears and head dizzy from overstimulation. Warm, shallow breaths brush against my face as his arms wrap firmly around the small of my back. Our sweat-slicken bodies meld into each other’s embrace, both of us feeling exhausted, satisfied, and at peace.
Xavier presses a soft kiss into my hair that I hardly register as sleepiness washes over me. I nuzzle into his neck with a contented sigh and close my eyes. Right before I fall asleep though, I hear three faint words whispered into my ear: “I love you.”
If you’re finding this through my other account, glad to see you here!
If you’re into Fourth Wing, ACOTAR, romantasy, LADS, ATLA, etc., then I encourage you to keep reading :)
Let me introduce myself first. My name is Aspen, I’m 22, and I’m currently writing my debut novel: Of Fate and Choice. I’ve been writing sporadically for years, and inspiration finally struck for something bigger.
Originally, I planned on writing one book. Then I realized I could easily write a second with the amount of lore I had conjured up. Now - with the way my chapter planning is going - I am most definitely going to be writing a trilogy: The Sovyrn Series.
Here are some of the tropes/themes included:
- magic
- dragon bonding
- mental bonds
- gods
- chosen ones
- forbidden romance
- rivals to lovers
- forced proximity
- slow burn (with plenty of tension, of course)
- found family
- a lot of lore
For your peace of mind, here are some tropes I will not be using:
- pregnancy
- third act break up
- miscommunication
- love triangle (this appears briefly, but not in the way you think)
- a 500 year old man with a 17 year old (all of my characters are at least 23)
If this sparks your interest, then I encourage you to stick around! I will be posting some excerpts, ideas, etc. as I continue to write. For now, I’ve attached my inspirations - a Pinterest board and my spotify. Join me on this extensive journey I’ve thrown myself into :’)
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of any of the pins included in the board.
a/n: this is one of my few longer fics in a while, but honestly, I couldn’t resist diving into all those dramatic Sylus moments. There’s just something about his hopeless romantic vibes and over-the-top mood swings that I love to write so here we are! Thanks for sticking with me through his emotional rollercoaster. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed bringing this messy, dramatic love story to life. <3
It was day 12. The first week had been bearable. Video calls every night, your sleepy voice teasing him. He’d smiled, genuinely smiled when you called him “Boss-man” in a fake serious tone, just to make the twins laugh.
But now the entire house was dead silent, too silent. Not a single note played from the vintage record player nestled in the corner of his office. No familiar crackle of vinyl, no strings swelling from his favourite piece, not even the slow, melancholic piano track he usually let play when reviewing reports. Just silence.
Sylus sat behind his desk, eyes flicking over business deals without truly reading them, fingers motionless on the keyboard. The untouched vinyl on the turntable had finished spinning twenty minutes ago. He hadn't even noticed.
Luke passed by the office, did a double-take, then slowly backed up and whispered over to Kieran. "He's not playing anything. Not a single record. I think something's wrong." Kieran’s voice came through, hushed and slightly horrified.
Inside the office, Sylus exhaled quietly and leaned back in his chair. His gaze flicked to the corner where your favourite record sat on the shelf, the one you’d danced to in this very room when he first played it for you after a mission. You’d spun around in his oversized button-up shirt, laughing and dancing.
But now… The video calls had stopped and were instead replaced by short text messages.
[Kitten 💌💍]
Safe. Will message again after. I love you. ❤️
And then silence. Twelve hours. Sixteen. Twenty. Today, the only thing he received was:
[Kitten 💌💍]
Alive. Compromised zone. Will explain later. Love you
Short. Blunt. No video calls, no update, but still ending with “Love you.” That alone had kept him functioning for the last thirty-six hours.
He exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to remind him how tightly he’d been holding it all in. His fingers were already flying across the screen.
'I miss you more than I can say. Come home soon. I’m making your favourite curry tonight.'
He hit send. Then, without a word, he pushed himself up from the desk and walked to the record player. Click. The familiar static crackled to life, followed by the opening notes of your favourite piece, the one you always swayed to, even when you were too tired to stand properly. The music filled the room, soft and slow, as Sylus leaned back against the desk, arms folded, eyes closed.
“He’s... smiling.” Luke leaned forward, squinting. “Wait, is that? Oh my god. It is. It’s the real smile after so many days. The one where his eye twitches and everything.”
“Yeah,” Kieran muttered. “She must’ve messaged.” Luke stepped back dramatically, hand on chest. “And just like that… the boss-man sleeps again.” Kieran nodded solemnly. “It’s official. She’s his emotional support.”
Around 8 PM, Luke and Kieran crept into the kitchen just in time for dinner and to their surprise… in front of the stovetop, Sylus stood in a cloud of fragrant steam, apron tied around his waist, sleeves rolled up. His voice floated out dramatically. “Coriander. That was the missing touch. She always said I forget the coriander…”
Luke whispered, “Oh no, he’s full domestic spiral.” Kieran nodded. “It’s happening. Husband Withdrawal Syndrome.”
Sylus ignored them, humming softly under his breath something low and vaguely romantic as he moved from the stove to the bench, plating food with way more care than was necessary for a Tuesday night.
“You okay, Boss-man?” Luke tried. Sylus sighed deeply. “I’ve cooked this dish fourteen times with her, and now it’s my first time cooking it alone.”
Then, Sylus began plating not one, not two, but four full servings. Each, neatly arranged and there, at the end of the row, he pulled out your favourite plate, the purple ceramic one with a matching spoon and favourite glass on a lace coaster.
The twins slowly realised he wasn’t just making dinner. He was making dinner for you. Even though you were still in Skyhaven, even though you hadn’t called in three days, even though the curry would be cold before you could even read his last message. He sat down across from your plate, gazing at it fondly. “Eat well, my love,” he whispered toward the empty seat… and then took a bite like he was eating your memory.
The twins just quietly grabbed their food and walked backwards out of the room. “Do we check on him tomorrow?”
“If she doesn’t call soon, we’re gonna find him slow dancing with Mephisto.” Luke snorted
As Day 22 approached, everyone around Sylus knew better than to linger, unless they had a death wish or a bulletproof emotional shield. The last guy who tried small talk nearly got his wrist dislocated for asking how he was.
Sylus wasn’t even supposed to be in Linkon that long. It should’ve been just one meeting, a quick intel swap and then home. But the moment he wrapped things up, his legs took him straight to that café, the tiny one tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop, the one with your favourite tiramisu. Back when you were still dating, he used to sneak away during business meetings just to see you there. You'd always order raspberry tea and pull him down by the collar the second he sat, pressing a kiss to his cheek like it had been weeks instead of days. Now? Now it had been twenty-two. Twenty-two days.
And the only person he wanted to eat with was off fighting wanderers and dealing with energy fluctuations near Skyhaven, only able to send him short little updates like, “Still breathing. Also, I accidentally broke my bracelet 🙁.” So, yeah he was tense.
The bell above the café door chimed softly as Sylus walked in, shoulders tense, jaw tight. Luke and Kieran followed a few paces behind, both moving with the caution of men escorting a ticking time bomb in a public space. “He hasn’t said anything in ten minutes,” Luke whispered. “Yeah,” Kieran muttered back. “It’s too quiet. Something’s brewing.”
Sylus headed to the usual table, the one by the window where he and his wife used to sit every time they were in Linkon. He didn’t speak, just stared out the glass like it had personally betrayed him.
And that’s when he saw them. A couple across the café, laughing, sharing cake and holding hands across the table. The guy even tucked a loose strand of hair behind the girl’s ear and leaned in to kiss her temple.
Sylus froze. His brow twitched, then furrowed; he locked into an expression Kieran privately referred to as "emotional storm warning.” Luke’s eyes went wide. Kieran whispered, “Oh, no. He’s about to”
Luke stepped in, gripping Sylus’s arm. “Boss-man. No. Deep breaths.” Sylus scowled as he continued to glare a hole just staring at this couple. Luke snapped. “We’ve been over this, other people are allowed to have relationships!” Sylus crossed his arms like he was being personally wronged.
They ended up grabbing takeaway and heading out of the café before Sylus could start burning everything down. He was still sulking, the paper bag with an extra slice of tiramisu dangling from his hand.
But then, Kieran stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes went wide. “Wait. Is that?” He gasped. “Miss Hunter.” Luke spun around. “No way. Are you sure?”
Sylus rolled his eyes. “Very funny. What is it this time? A cardboard cutout? A hallucination? Mephisto wearing her hoodie?” But before Luke could answer, a familiar voice called out behind them, “Sylus!”
He barely had time to turn before he felt it, your arms, wrapping around him from behind, locking him in place like a heartbeat he thought he’d lost.
Sylus blinked once. Then slowly turned around in your arms, still holding the café bag, like he’d just been punched in the chest by joy. “You’re here,” he said softly, like the words might shatter if he said them too loudly. “I’m here,” you smiled. “Mission ended early. Figured I’d pick up some dessert before heading home, but it seems like you got here first”. Sylus dropped the tiramisu bag and crushed you into a full embrace mid-sentence.
He didn’t answer; instead, he just kissed you. Hard. Desperate. Like he had something to prove. One hand still cradling your jaw, the other wrapping firmly around your waist as he pulled in closer, pressing every inch of himself into that kiss like you'd been air and he’d been drowning. Your fingers curled in his jacket as you kissed him back with just as much heat, standing on your toes to match his intensity.
Luke audibly cleared his throat. Kieran turned his back around. “I am not paid enough to witness this.” Sylus pulled away just slightly, forehead still pressed against yours, his voice low. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“End a mission early?”
“Come back looking that pretty. I nearly passed out.”
You laughed, brushing your thumb along his cheek.
Luke muttered, “God, they’re so married.” Kieran sighed. “Yeah. But at least he’s not threatening to stab people for mentioning their partners anymore.”
“Home?” you asked.
“Home,” he smiled back.
But not before one more kiss, this time softer, slower, and just for you.
