౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑The Warmth that Lies Within ౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑
Sylus x Chubby! Baker! Reader
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ - hey everyone!! I wrote this little oneshot based off of a scenario I have been wanting to write for a while now and I love soft Sylus so yay!! This is just a bunch of fluff with slight plot....
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ - contains: insecurity, mentions of war, battle, afab reader, the reader is chubby, soft Sylus, employment, and I think that's it...
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ - disclaimer: english isn't my first language so i apologise in advance if there are any mistakes
⋆｡°✩ Summary: A small bakery sits just outside the N109 zone, warm with the scent of sugar and cinnamon. A man who looks like he belongs somewhere far darker steps inside one evening and leaves with a pastry he never asked for. He comes back the next week. And the week after that. Somewhere between flour-dusted counters, quiet conversations, and pastries wrapped in ribbon, something unexpected begins to grow — soft, stubborn, and warm enough to reach even the coldest corners of a wandering heart.
୨ৎ - word count: 5.896 k words (excluding symbols)
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ - enjoy !! •ᴗ•
‧˚₊⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹₊˚‧
There were many ways to warm the soul. Some people chose art. Some chose sports or creative writing. But for you? Nothing warmed your soul better than baking. The stress and fear of failure building up before being overshadowed by the immense feeling of achievement after every new creation you had pulled out from the oven.
What other people thought was just a hobby, was your whole life. The happiness and love you had felt for creating new tastes had slowly blossomed into a business. And here you were, on the outskirts of the N109 zone with a bakery of your own. You had thought of stationing yourself somewhere else, but the places along the ridge of the no hunt zone were cheap and unfortunately you were still just a broke culinary student.
It had been quite a while since the grand opening, and it could never get more perfect than this. Many would travel and visit your bakery to escape from the darkened sky of the N109 zone, the harsh contrast fuelling the attraction of new customers.
You had thought of how smooth you were sailing into your new life, before a peculiar evening had questioned your assumptions….
……..
Another late evening at the bakery had arrived. The customers had come flooding in during the morning, leaving your hands covered in flour and vanilla essence as you continued making sure the various pastries and cakes were fresh and prepared. The atmosphere had converted into a relaxing rhythm as the beautiful smell of sugar wafted through the setting air. You hummed softly to yourself as you cleaned the table, the rag collecting the crumbs that failed to make it into the final outcome.
The little bell above the bakery door chimed softly as it swung open.
You didn’t look up immediately. The shop had been wrapped in the gentle quiet that always followed. The scent of vanilla, sugar, and warm butter still hung thick in the air. Sunlight filtered through the big front window, glowing across the display case where rows of cakes, tarts, and pastries waited patiently for the next customer.
You were wiping flour from your hands on your apron when the silence shifted.
Heavy footsteps. Not the light, wandering steps of someone browsing. Deliberate. Quick. Large.
You glanced up, the smile that you had automatically reserved for new customers faltering slightly as you froze.
The man standing just inside the doorway looked like he had stepped into the wrong world. He was huge, intimidatingly so. Broad shoulders filled the entryway, dark clothes clinging to a powerful frame that looked like it belonged in a violent battlefield, not a cozy bakery filled with strawberry shortcakes and fruit tarts. His silver hair caught the sunlight for a moment before he stepped further inside, and the door shut behind him with a soft click. His presence had changed the room instantly.
It wasn’t just the fact that he was tall and broad. It was the feeling that had simmered around him. Sharp and tense, but not foreseeably dangerous. Like a thunderstorm, that for some reason had wandered into your warm little bakery.
He paused near the entrance, chest rising softly and slightly faster than normal. As if he had been moving quickly…. Or running. But he doesn’t seem like the type to run.
Your brows knitted together, browsing through your usual set of customers to remember if you had seen him before. But then again, you definitely would’ve remembered him.
Your bakery sat just outside the N109 zone, which guarantees the occasional strange visitor, but this… felt different. Still, a customer is a customer. And you had built your establishment on kindness, so you smiled softly.
“Hello.” Your voice echoes gently throughout the room.
The man’s eyes flicked over to you, and for a moment he simply stared. They were striking eyes, a sharp ruby red that could seem cold at first glance. The kind that looked like they had seen too much of the world. But right now… they were studying you like you were something unexpected.
You cleared your throat softly, “Are you okay?” You inquired.
He didn’t answer immediately, and from your unapologetic staring you had noticed that he was slightly out of breath. Not exhausted, since someone like him probably didn’t get tired easily, but there was a thread of tension in his posture. As if he had escaped something he didn’t feel like dealing with.
You tilted your head gently.
“Do you need a drink?” You offered, slight concern illustrated on your face. “Or something to eat?”
Silence greeted your kind words as he finally glanced around the bakery. His gaze moved slowly over the room. The pastel pink walls, the lace curtains, the neatly arranged cakes and cookies in the glass display. Everything soft. Everything warm. Everything the opposite of him.
Then his eyes returned to you. You stood behind the counter, round cheeks slightly flushed from baking, flour dusting the front of your apron. Your hair was loosely tied back, and the warmth of the bakery seemed to glow around you like fading sunlight from outside. Soft, bright and alive. The contrast hit him like entering another world.
“…I’m fine,” He said finally. His voice was handsomely deep. It filled the small bakery confidently and smoothly.
You blinked, then smiled again. “Are you sure?” You asked. “You look like you’ve had a long morning..”
His answer was immediate.
“I don’t need anything.” His tone wasn’t rude, just slightly distant. Like the voice of someone used to refusing help.
You hummed softly. Then you shook your head.
“Wait here for a second..” You say gently. Before he could protest, you had already turned and disappeared behind the counter.
The man watched you go, his brows faintly pulling together. Clearly he wasn’t used to this. Most people reacted to him in one of two ways, fear or hostility. Not kindness, and certainly not the easy, unguarded warmth you were showing him.
You returned a few moments later, holding something wrapped gently in a cute napkin.
A pastry. Fresh from the oven. Perfectly golden and flaky. Still warm enough that a faint curl of steam rose from its crispy surface.
You stepped around the counter and eagerly walked up to him. Only when you got close did the size difference become unavoidably evident. He towered over you, quite literally. Broad, slightly menacing. His presence alone could probably make most people walk away.
But you didn’t. Instead, you smiled up at him. “Hold out your hands.”
For a little moment, he didn’t move. Then slowly, he did as you asked.
His hands were large, and scarred. Veins traced beneath the skin, and his fingers were long, somehow delicate. The hands of someone who had spent years fighting, surviving, holding weapons instead of delicate things. Beautiful.
You carefully placed the pastry in his palms, and his brows knit together slightly, the expression on his face softly amused at your actions.
“…What?” He verbalises, the confusion extremely obvious in his tone. You folded your hands behind your back and beamed at him.
“You don’t owe me anything,” you said lightly. “I just like sharing food.”
He stared at the pastry like it had personally offended him, and then his eyes lifted to you again.
“Why?” The question had slipped out of his mouth before thinking it through.
You blinked, a little surprised. “Well why not?” You smile softly.
Gesturing lightly toward the bakery, you begin to speak.
“I bake because I want people to feel a little happier when they leave here,” you explained. “Everyone deserves something warm to eat sometimes… and that includes you.”
Your voice was so sincere and sweet, like powdered sugar, and it left him strangely quiet. He wasn’t used to people giving him things without wanting something in return. Especially not someone as kind as you. Clearly your brain was filled to the brim with sunshines and rainbows.
He looked down at the pastry again. Then back at you, sharp eyes analysing any speck of doubt in your words.
“Thank you..” His words came out lower this time. Still deep, still steady. But softer. Your smile brightened immediately, face glowing with uncontainable glee.
“You’re welcome!” You beamed at him. You gave him a small nod before turning and walking back behind the counter. He watched you leave again.
You picked up a cloth and started wiping down the surface like nothing unusual had just happened. After a moment, you glanced up. He was still there, small pastry in hand, still looking mildly confused.
You gave him a little wave. “Come again sometime.”
The bell above the door chimed faintly as he stepped outside, the breeze brushing against his face…. And for a long moment, he didn’t move. His gaze dropped once more to the pastry you had given him. Still warm and soft.
Something unfamiliar tugged quietly in his chest, soothing the previous tension that had overcome him. And finally, he took a bite. Warmth seeping into the darkened hinges of his heart…
…….
The bell above the bakery door had chimed again that following week.
It was late afternoon this time, when the sunlight turned golden and warm through the windows, painting the shop in soft honeyed light. The bakery smelled like berries and whipped cream today, a fresh batch of pastries and cakes cooling behind the counter. It was comfortable, living a life like this, with the one thing you love at the core of your days.
You were arranging a tray of strawberry tarts when you heard the door.
“Welcome!-” The word stopped halfway out of your mouth.
The tall man from last week stood just inside the doorway. The same striking silver hair, the same broad shoulders, the same quiet intensity that seemed to follow him everywhere. You had completely forgotten how beautiful he is, but to say that would honestly be a lie..…Because no one could ever forget how astonishingly handsome he is.
This time he wasn’t out of breath. He wasn’t tense like a cornered animal either. He had simply walked in.
Your surprise only managed to last a short second before your face brightened.
“Oh! Hello again.” Just by the tone of your voice, he could tell you were content with his presence. He watched you carefully as you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped closer to the counter.
“You came back,” you said warmly, It wasn’t an accusation. Just genuine surprise. The smile on your face seemed to stay permanent no matter the situation.
He gave a small nod. “I did.” His voice was the same deep rumble you remembered, tinted with slight amusement. You lean your elbows lightly on the counter, smile widening.
“How have you been?” You inquire, and a brief pause echoes throughout the bakery. Most people ask that question out of politeness, but for some reason you were actually interested in what he had to say.
“...Fine.” He said, as if your personality had confused him to spiral into brain damage. Your smile seemed to brighten.
“That’s good!” For a moment, the bakery settled into a cozy quiet between you. Outside the sun had started to steadily set, and somewhere in the kitchen the clock ticked softly.
You widen your eyes, realising you were just staring at him. You laugh under your breath to brush away the soft embarrassment. “Can I get you anything?”
His gaze shifted toward the display case, then flicked back towards you. “The pastry from last time..”
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh!” Your smile somehow grew brighter. “Did you like it??”
He nodded once. “I enjoyed it..”
You immediately turned to the racks of pastries behind you, looking to find the perfectly shaped pastries.
“Well you’re lucky,” you said cheerfully. “You came at the perfect time.”
You pulled out a tray of freshly baked pastries, still warm enough that the buttery scent filled the air the moment they were uncovered.
“These just came out of the oven a few minutes ago.” Your tone of voice had always seemed so content and confident. Seemingly the big bad boss man standing in your cute pastel bakery failed to scare you and dim your light. He somehow ignited a brighter fire.
You carefully placed one pastry on a pretty napkin, and turned around to face him. But before you could hand it over, he reached into his leather jacket. A soft thud hit the counter.
Your eyes dropped. Then widened. A wad of cash sat there. Not just enough to cover a simple pastry. Far, far more. You blinked, then blinked again.
Your head snapped up to look at him. “That’s way too much!” you said quickly, pushing the money slightly back toward him. “I can’t accept this!”
He barely looked at the bundle. Instead his eyes were focused on the pastry in your soft hand. He shrugged, as if money was the least of his concerns. A slow casual motion compared to your searing confusion.
“Keep it.”
You stared at him, baffled, his words not wanting to settle in your mind.
You look up at him. “But–” You sigh softly, “I can’t accept this, this is like a hundred pastries! No I can’t–”
You hesitate, but his expression doesn’t falter. “It’s fine, just accept it”
You looked between him and the stack of money again, completely baffled. Slowly after a moment you bring the pastry towards him.
“Well… here,” you said, still unsure. “At least take the pastry first before doing ... .that”
The smile on your face is slightly nervous now, not knowing if the facial expression is appropriate anymore considering the circumstances. He took the pastry. Again, his hands dwarfed the soft little treat.
You fiddle with the edges of your flour painted apron. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” Your smile is smaller now, soft and sweet.
He shook his head. “This is all I need for today.” And after a small pause, he added. “I’ll return next week.”
The words were simple, like he had already decided on his inevitable return beforehand. You blinked in surprise again.
“Oh– okay!” You smiled by reflex, though you were still processing everything. “Well… I’ll be here.” Your tone of voice had still managed to persevere with that usual cheeriness as you looked up at him from behind the counter.
He gave one nod, and his silver hair curtained over his saturated crimson eyes. He was so beautiful in a rough way, almost like a mythological dragon. It was hard for you to not look at him….especially with the way his jacket clung onto his strong arms.
Nevermind that, he had turned and walked toward the door. The bell chiming softly as he stepped outside the warm bakery walls. And just like that, he was gone. The bakery returned to its peacefully quiet atmosphere.
You stood there for a couple of seconds before slowly looking down at the counter. The wad of cash was still sitting there. Untouched. Your eyes widened all over again.
“...Oh my goodness..” You whispered out to no one in particular. Picking up the money shakily, your brain scrambled through a dozen of assumptions.
Was he rich? Or maybe confused? Did he give me the wrong amount by accident? Or was he genuinely serious about liking that pastry?
You looked toward the door where he had just left, then back towards the money. “He better not do this next time..” You sigh softly, placing the notes carefully into the register for safekeeping.
But even as your mind was swarming with confusion, you couldn't help but smile again. Next week, apparently by his words, you’d see him again…
……..
The melodic bell above the bakery door chimed once again the following week, but this time, you had been expecting it.
Not in an obvious way of course, since you still had customers to serve, dough to knead and cakes to decorate. But every time the door had opened your eyes flicked up just a little faster than usual.
So when the tall silver haired man had finally stepped into the small and cozy bakery again, your face lit up.
“Hello!” Your voice and facial expression were struggling to contain the excitement you felt when seeing him.
This week you wore a brand new apron. Soft pink with tiny bows scattered across the fabric. It wrapped snugly around your plump figure, the ribbon tied neatly at the back. A bit of flour dusted the front of it, and even more had somehow found its way onto your cheeks. Your hair framed your round face softly, a few loose strands escaping while you worked.
You looked like warmth had chosen a person and settled there. The dark figure standing near the doorway had noticed immediately.
He paused just inside the doorway, taking in the familiar scent of warm butter and sugar. The place was just as comfortable as always, sunlight spilling across the wooden tables, pastries cooling behind glass displays.
And you. Standing behind the counter smiling at him like you were genuinely happy with his return.
“You came again!” you said brightly. He walked up to the counter, slower than the first time he’d ever entered this shop. There was no tension in his shoulders now, no urgency in his movements. Just quiet certainty.
“I said I would.” His deep voice rumbles through his chest, a slightly amused smile on his face.
Your smile softened at his words.
“You did.” Brushing your hands off on the pastel pink of your apron, you leaned forward slightly.
“So! How have you been doing?” Your smiling expression turns into something more curious as you wait for an answer.
“Fine..” His answers were still short, but the distance between you had subsided. You nodded happily at his words.
“That’s good. I’ve been busy allll week,” you said lightheartedly. “A lot of people have been coming in because of the new strawberry cakes.”
Your eyes seemed to sparkle as you talked, clearly proud of this week's achievements. “They sold out twice already!” You exclaimed.
He had listened, not daring to interrupt as he stayed there. Which for someone like him, was already saying a lot.
You were about to ask him what he wanted when suddenly you gasped softly.
“Oh! Wait!” You spun around behind the counter, rummaging for something.
He watched as you fussed over a red paper bag sitting on one of the back tables. You carefully folded the top down and tied a crimson ribbon around it. Fingers working quickly but gently as you absentmindedly stick a bit of your tongue out as a means of focus. You turned back toward him with a proud smile.
Walking around the counter again, you wobble towards him. “This is for you,” you say excitedly.
You held the bag out toward him and he looked down at the red paper, then at your beaming face. “....For me?” He inquires.
You nodded enthusiastically. “Mhm! I was extra careful to make sure the pastries turned out pretty and delicious.”
He took the bag carefully. Finally something in this establishment had matched his dark attire as the red bag found itself in the hands of its rightful owner.
But before he could even think about reaching for his wallet–
You raised a finger at him. “And before you even think about paying–” Your eyes narrowed slightly. “If you offer me even a penny, I will get angry.”
He blinked once.
“And I won’t be happy.” You added firmly, but your warm and content tone had still remained underneath the faux firmness.
Even if you weren’t particularly threatening, he pushed aside his thoughts of paying you as the thought of upsetting you somehow tugged harshly against his heart strings.
He gazed down at the bag again. Written in neat handwriting across the front were the words: Mysterious Silver Haired Man….
Yeah…
You pout jokingly, your cheeks puffing out as you notice his eyes skim over the words.
“I don’t know your name,” You began to explain softly. “You never really told me the last two times you had visited, so…”
You gesture towards the bag. “I had to improvise..” You laugh gently.
Then his gaze slowly lifted to you.
“Sylus.” He said firmly, but his manner had become softer. “That’s my name.”
You blinked before your face lit up. “Sylus!” You repeated it like you were testing the feel of the words on your tongue, like trying a new recipe.
You smile up at him warmly. “Thats a very pretty name.”
The compliment landed so casually that it almost felt familiar.
“You probably already know my name since it’s..” You tug on the name badge clipped onto the fabric of your apron. “..Right here!’”
Sylus didn’t respond right away and you didn’t seem to notice. You had already turned and walked back behind the counter again, fiddling with the edge of your new apron.
“Well, Sylus.” You said cheerfully, looking up at him again. “Have a lovely rest of your day.”
You gave him a small wave. “And come again, you’re always welcome here.”
For a few seconds he just stood there, pretty hand wrapped around the red paper bag. Then a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Small and subtle. As if this whole situation had amused him more than it should have.
“Until next time.” His voice lingered through the warm bakery as he turned and walked toward the door. The bell chimed softly as he stepped outside again.
And for the third week in a row, Sylus left your bakery carrying something warm….
…….
Weeks passed after that, and just like he promised… Sylus returned. Every week. And at first it was simple. The bell would chime, he would step inside, and your face would brighten instantly when you saw him. You always had something waiting for him. Some warm pastry or sweet treat carefully wrapped in paper and tied with a cute ribbon.
And you never let him leave empty handed. Those large, scarred hands that looked like they belonged wrapped around weapons somehow always ended up holding something soft and warm from your bakery.
The conversations had converted to something more enriched. During the first few interactions they were short. But as the weeks passed, Sylus’ replies grew longer. Your cheerful chatter pulled words from him with surprising ease. A dry, slightly teasing edge began creeping into his tone as well. One that made you laugh far more often than he expected.
“You’re here early today,” You said one afternoon with a soft smile decorating your lips.
“You sound disappointed.” He teased lightly.
You gasp softly at his words. “I am not!”
“You hesitated, sweetie.” He mused with a small smirk on his face.
“I did not!” You raised your voice softly, denying the words he was putting into your mouth.
A sound scarily similar to a laugh left his mouth, it sounded rich, like those ceo mafia bosses that could buy the whole town. It was also genuine. And somehow, week by week, the tall, intimidating man who once stood stiffly near the door now leaned casually against your counter while you rambled on about new recipes and flavour combinations.
By the seventh week, his arrival had become a routine of sorts. He always came at a similar time, on a Wednesday. And for reasons Sylus had examined beforehand…. he looked forward to it.
But when the bell chimed that afternoon and he stepped inside the bakery… something felt wrong. You weren’t there. The counter seemed empty without your gleeful figure working around it. The display case was still full of cakes and pastries, but the usual warm greeting didn’t follow the sound of the door.
No bright and sweet smile, no cheerful greeting. Sylus’ eyes narrowed slightly and a faint crease formed between his brows. His jaw clenching at the thought of something happening to you. He stood by the entrance for a moment longer than usual, scanning the warm room.
Then–
“Oh my-” A soft voice floated from the back kitchen. “Why are there so many orders today-”
Another quiet curse followed your absentminded words and Sylus’ shoulders relaxed just a fraction. The sound had attracted him, body moving without a second thought. The kitchen door was slightly open, and as he reached it, he froze. Leaning against the door frame.
You were a mess. Definitely not a bad one. Just…. a very busy state of concentration.
Your sleeves were rolled up just slightly, your apron dusted with flour and streaked with icing and bits of grated carrot. Your cheeks were flushed from the heat of the ovens, and you were biting your lip softly as you stirred a large bowl of batter with a wooden spoon. Your arms moved with determined effort. Soft but strong as you mixed the thick mixture. A strand of hair kept falling across your face, fighting your deep efforts of focus.
You blew at it in a soft frustration, but it stubbornly returned every few seconds.
“Why did carrot cake have to become so popular today of all days..” You sigh to yourself.
Sylus studied you silently before your eyes flicked up, noticing him.
Your entire face lit up in the span of a nanosecond. “Oh! Sylus!” You smiled warmly despite the chaos surrounding you. “You’re here!”
He raised an eyebrow slightly. “I am.”
Your hand paused on mixing the batter.
“Sorry I didn’t greet you up front.” You said quickly. ”It’s been super busy today.”
“I noticed.” Of course he did, he was silently panicking when he didn’t see your bright smiling face greeting him.
His gaze drifted over the cluttered kitchen, bowls, flour flags, trays waiting to be filled with batter. Then his eyes returned to focus on you.
“Do you require my help, sweetie?” The nickname slipped out so smoothly it took you a second to process it, his deep voice resonating through the littered kitchen.
Your cheeks warmed just a little more. “Oh– no, no!” You said quickly, refusing his help almost immediately. “I can handle it!”
You went back to mixing… except, you clearly couldn’t anymore. The batter was thick, the bowl kept sliding slightly as your arms fell prey to exhaustion… and the same strand of hair continued falling in front of your eyes. You tried blowing it away again.
It didn’t work.
Sylus pushed himself off the doorframe, walking across the kitchen in a few quiet steps until he stood behind you. Before you could react, his hand lifted gently. Large fingers brushed against your hair as he tucked the loose strands neatly behind your ears.
Your stirring slowly started to stop. “...Sylus?” You say his name, questioning his action, the softness in your tone maintaining its base.
“You can’t see what you’re doing..” He said calmly.
You opened your mouth slightly. “I told you–”
“I’m helping.” His tone was firm and final. “Non negotiable.”
You stared at the bowl for a moment, sighing softly, but your lips still held that warm smile. “Okay.” You accepted his words. Your cheeks are flushed, flour still dusting your face, apron stained with the baking rush. “Thank you.”
You wiped your hands on a nearby towel and walked over to a nearby hook. Your hands reached to grab the only other apron you owned. Pastel pink, decorated with pretty bows.
You held it out to him.
Sylus looked at it, then at you… then back at the apron. “And you’re sure this is the only one?”
You nodded innocently. “Mhm!”
He didn’t dare argue with your decision, putting it on without uttering another word. The massive, intimidating man now stood in your kitchen wearing a pink bow-covered apron. And somehow, he really didn't seem to mind.
You brightened immediately. “Okay!” you exclaimed, returning to the bowl. “First step! Help me mix the batter, please.”
You hand him the wooden spoon and he takes it, looking ridiculously small in his hand. “...Like this?” He asked as he mixed the batter with sure and strong movements.
“Yes! Just like that.” Your shoulder brushed his arm as you guided the motion. “See? It’s super easy.”
Sylus looked down at the thick carrot cake batter, then at your beaming face. “.. As I recall.. someone had been struggling with this for a while.”
You gasped softly. “You were watching that long?!”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps..”
And for the first time since the rush had begun, the kitchen didn't feel nearly as overwhelming.
……..
By the time the last tray of cute little carrot cakes finally slid into the oven, the kitchen had transformed into a battlefield. Flour dusted nearly every surface. Mixing bowls were stacked beside the sink, spoons rested in half-empty batter bowls, and the warm scent of cinnamon, brown sugar, and carrot cake filled the entire bakery.
You leaned against the counter with a tired sigh, wiping your hands on your already stained apron. Sylus stood beside you, still wearing the pink bow-covered apron you’d given him. There were faint streaks of flour across his dark shirt and a little bit of batter on one of his rolled up sleeves.
Your eyes found him for the nth time that evening, laughing softly.
He raised a brow. “What?”
“You’re…” you tried to contain the giggle, “very intimidating for someone wearing that apron.”
He glanced down at the stained pink fabric and smirked softly. “You’re lucky that I don’t have a problem with it.”
You cross your arms under your chest playfully, smiling teasingly. “I remember someone saying that helping me was non-negotiable.”
“Hm, that part was.” He said calmly. “The apron wasn’t.”
You tilt your head with a warm smile. “Well… you look good in pink.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a quiet amusement there now.
“You’re enjoying this, aren't you?”
“Very much.” You beam at him. Sylus hummed quietly, acknowledging your words before letting the not so quiet silence take over the room.
For a moment you both just stood there, enjoying the faint hum of the ovens and the tick of the clock. It felt comfortable.
You look up at him, expression softening. “Thank you for helping me today, Sylus.” You said sincerely. “I genuinely would have been here all night if you hadn’t.”
His gaze settled on your thankful expression. “You would have managed.”
You shook your head at his words, laughing softly to yourself.
“Maybe…eventually.” Then you smiled again. “But it was a lot nicer having company.”
The words hung gently between you, decorating the comfortable atmosphere. Turning to grab a towel, you wipe the flour from your hands again.
“Let me at least give you some carrot cake before you go,” you said gently. “You helped make them after all.”
Sylus didn’t move, quietly watching you, enthralled by the mere sight of your glowing form. Studying the way your hair had come loose from its tie, the flour still scattered across your cheeks, the warmth that always seemed to radiate from you. Bright, soft and alive.
So different from the world he lived in.
You turned back around with a small box in your hands, but when you noticed the way he was looking at you, you paused.
“..What?” You smiled softly. “Is there something on my face?”
He took a step closer towards you, silver hair falling across his rich crimson eyes. You had always thought he looked ethereal. Nose carved carefully, sharp eyes and lightly tanned skin. Others would argue, how could someone so menacing be angel like? But you would argue that yes he could, because he was gentle, and kind.
“Could you do something for me?” He inquired, deep voice rumbling through his chest.
You nod, smiling warmly. “Of course! What is it? Do you want more of the cake because I don’t think-”
“Go out with me.” Your words were quickly interrupted by his abrupt wish. The words were so simple, so direct. And that was the cause of your momentary loss for words.
“.....What?” You questioned softly. He didn’t repeat himself immediately. Instead, he waited. Patient ,as if your answer held the key to fate itself.
Your eyes widened slightly. “You mean… like…” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “…a date?”
“Yes.” He said firmly.
You blinked again, the small box of carrot cake forgotten in your hands. “Oh my…” Your cheeks began to warm, a rosy colour blossoming on your skin.
“I– I mean… Sylus you’re—” You fumbled slightly over your words. “You’re… you.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyebrow raised and a small smirk decorating his face. “Yes, that is usually how names work.”
You huffed softly at his teasing words, a small smile still etched on your lips. “That’s not what I mean.”
You set the box down on the counter softly, suddenly very aware of the flour on your cheeks and the icing stains on your apron.
“I mean… Sylus, you’re…” You paused, a little embarrassed. “You’re impressive. In a way I’m really not.”
“You’re strong…and smart.” Your voice got quieter. “And I’m just…” You gesture vaguely to yourself. “...a baker.”
Your shoulders lifted slightly, avoiding his strong gaze, and it was proving to be quite difficult.
“I’ve always been told I’m too soft, in more ways than one” you admitted quietly with a soft laugh under your breath. “Too naive.”
You look down at the dried out batter on your hands. “I’m loud, and far from elegant. I just make cakes all day.”
The kitchen grew quiet, the distance between you seeming louder as the silence stretched. Sylus stepped closer. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating through him, or was that just you overheating?
His hand lifted slowly, and you looked up at him just as his fingers gently brush against your rosy cheek. His thumb wiped away a faint streak of flour, the touch surprisingly soft for someone with such calloused hands. His touch lingered there for a moment.
“You make it sound like it’s a flaw” His voice had lowered slightly. “But everything you just said in regards to yourself is anything but a flaw.”
Your breath caught slightly, heart hammering through your sternum.
“You’re warm,” he said gently as his thumb brushed another bit of flour away from your cheek. “You’re benevolent, in ways you don’t have to be.”
His gaze held yours, firm focus set on one thing. You.
“You’re real.” The words that left his mouth were so gentle, so sweet, and something in your chest fluttered. “You’re everything my world isn’t.”
Your eyes widen softly and his head tilts just slightly, studying your expression. Then he asked again, gently this time.
“So.” His fingers still rest gently against your cheek. “Would you grant me the pleasure of taking you out sometime?"
Your lips parted, and for a second, you couldn't really speak. Then slowly, a warm smile spread across your face.
“Yes, I’d love to.”
Sylus watched the smile bloom across your face like the sunrise after a long night, warmth radiating from you in a way that felt almost unreal. For a moment, he simply stood there, looking at you the same way he had that first day, like you were something unexpected in a world that rarely surprised him anymore…
©! hunniet0ria