[sadhoc]

hey if you're not a mobility aid user, and you want a simple way to make public spaces more accessible to those of us who are, i have a tip for you:

push in your chairs when you get up from tables.

when people don't push in their chairs, people with bulky aids like wheelchairs and rollators can't get through. also a lot of people who use canes have wider gaits than able bodied people, and having a chair in the middle of their walking path is a real obstruction. while some of us are able to push chairs out of our way, a lot of us are not, and wind up boxed in/out because somebody didn't push in their chair.

so if you want to do something simple that can make a big difference in terms of like. navigating an outdoor food court or a cafe or what have you. push in your chairs.

[art-missy]

Voice Acting (Sylus x reader)

Chapter 1. Chapter.2

Sleep deprivation, some shenanigans and a lot of quickly-made assumptions. Oh ! There is Mephisto in this chapter !

Word count : ~9, 217

Reading time : ~46 minutes

AO3

Author's note : Six months later, it is back ! Finally ! What is frustratingly funny is the fact that I started writing this chapter in november...and then life happened.

Tag : @napforalifetime

“Fascinating. I can’t tell if they’re really fighting or not.”

You just arrived at the dojo and Jeremiah’s confused but fascinated murmur reached your ears.

It has been a long week (five days) in which you had prayed for not meeting your new boss at each corner of the building. And surprisingly enough, your prayers had been heard. You haven't met him since, and your hair on the back of your neck stayed still. It didn't stop you from being on your guard every time you went to record your lines, though. One day, you were so tensed in the recording booth that you broke the Guinness record of the number of takes taken for just one line.

“Congratulations !” Nero had said.

“No.”

Your nights hasn't been merciful either, a great reminder of how much your brain loved to bully you. Your dreams had grown vivid to the point where you often woke up in tears and dreaded the moment you’d fall back to sleep. The image of the face of your new boss stubbornly imprinted itself on your eyelids so you could look at him every time you closed your eyes. So you avoided your nightly travels to Dreamland. Your head started to ache at random moments of the day too. It became worrying to the point that Jeremiah had been carrying bottles of painkillers in his jean jacket since.

No, he didn't break the granny-possessed allegations, yet.

How about taking small naps on the comfy looking sofas that were present on the tenth floor of the building where you worked? Bad idea. The building was stuck in a TeApocalypse© (name carefully crafted by Tara). Not only did lemon tea invaded halls like an armada, but rumors about the handsomeness of the company new owner was on every lips. And since he had only been seen on the tenth floor, your workplace sometimes felt too crowded for your comfort. People were waiting for him like snipers awaited for their targets to show up.

“It will soon settle down,” Tara had said when you once saw two people hiding behind a plant, binoculars raised to their eyes. “I think.” You were pretty sure you saw bands on their fingers.

Speaking of Tara, she had boiled you down in hope of getting some tea about what you and Mr. Sky were talking about in the corridor last time she saw you two together. You managed to escape her scrutiny by mentioning how much she got close to Greyson. It was adorable how these two got easily flustered when the other was mentioned.

So yeah, it has been a long eventful week on your part. And Jeremiah noticed it all, which was why he looked very surprised (and about to scold you) when he saw you arriving in front of the leitai.

“You had a shitty week. What are you doing here ?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a concerned exasperation matching his granny energy.

“Need to blow off some steam,” you shrugged.

“This phrase only works when you have remaining energy,” he looked at you from head to toes, analyzing you with a certain level of scrutiny. “Which you don’t, according to the dark circles under your eyes.”

“You don’t like my new style ?” you winked, to which he just rolled his eyes. “I was trying to match pandas.”

You voluntarily omitted to tell him how tensed you felt in your own home. You grew paranoid every time your eyes settled on a window and you didn't like spending time on your balcony anymore. Even Mandrin, your cat, seemed to grow more and more agitated, which was quite out of character from him. Of course, Jeremiah sensed that something was happening. The slight squint of his eyes was more of concern than judgment. You knew the drill. This kind of look from him were always followed by a question. But this time, it was interrupted by an event that reminded you that a lot of thing could fly in a dojo, whether it was a mouth guard, a shin guard, a mannequin or a whole person. A whole human being that you had to dodge and whom Jeremiah caught with almost too much ease.

You let out an impressed whistle.

“Damn. It’s raining teens, now.”

Jeremiah on the other hand did not look amused in the slightest.

“Boys, I told you to not take off your headgear in the middle of a round.”

One glance told you that these teens were twins. Despite being visibly identical by birth, they could be differentiated by the way they hold themselves and a scar barring the face of one.

“New here ?” you hummed.

Their attention shifted to you and you suddenly felt deep in your gut that they knew something you should know.

Or I’m just being paranoid, again.

“Yep !” the one who left Earth earlier nodded in your direction. “We’re still deciding which sport we wanna practice in the dojo.”

“Mr. Jeremiah was introducing us to Wushu Sanda,” added the other, the scarred one.

“Mr. Jeremiah ?” you repeated with a snort before clearing your throat when the said mister glared at you. “And you decided to experiment the wrestling before the striking ?”

“Oh we’re already pretty experienced with striking.”

You blinked, looked at him, then at his brother, then your eyes focused for an instant on the quite deep-looking scar running from one cheekbone to the other. You observed the obvious youthful energy that one had more difficulties to contained compared to the other who was more subtle but still as energetic as his brother. You then wondered if it was considered a problem.

“Should we be worried ?”

The only answer you got was a snort from both of them and a synchronized shook of their heads. Their bemused expression reassured you. If Jeremiah was a granny, you probably were a momma bear.

“Alright, boys. Could you please now tell me how the fudge Kieran flew out of the delimited area ?” Jeremiah sighed, putting his fists on his hips.

“I’m Luke,” deadpanned one of the twins.

“You can cuss with us, you know. We’re not kids.”

You walked away, trusting Jeremiah’s granny instinct to handle whatever gibberish your brain was too tired to register and translate correctly. He was trusted here, often helping teachers, coaches and the security guard of the building. You settled in a peaceful corner to quietly warm-up your body. You didn't trust yourself enough to be around other people. Well, your mistrust of yourself was multiplied by ten because of the irritation caused by your fatigue. Each one of your movements required more focus than it usually would, especially for movements that you practiced for years. If you bended down too much, your body tended to sway. If you stayed motionless for more than twenty seconds, your eyes tended to close.

Fuck, you thought. Jeremiah was right. My batteries are dead. There's no steam to blow off.

Speaking of Jeremiah, despite him teaching the twins basics, his eyes often narrowed on you with the precision and sharpness of a falcon. You constantly had to remind yourself to clench your jaw so he couldn’t see you yawning. You had to do a quick round trip to the bathroom so you could splash your face with cold water in order to stay awake.

Did it work ?

Briefly. Putting ice cubes in your underwear would probably be more effective. You were pretty sure it wasn't the moment to experiment ice play, though. In hope that doing swift movements would at least wake you up a little, you decided to practice your kicks on a training mannequin.

Little reminder : your brain was your biggest bully.

As you kept kicking, sounds around you seemed to be muffled until they were completely drowned. Was it a sign of your focus heightening ? Were you in the zone ? Yes, but not the wanted and expected one.

In an instant, the mannequin turned into your new boss. Ebony horns fiercely crowned his hair as a healthily red jewel reigned on the beautifully sculpted art piece that was his torso.

“Prove me that you can be stronger.”

“Motherfuck—”

Needless to say that you did not only brought attention to yourself with the loud exclamation you let out, but your fall caused by your sudden loss of balance also echoed loud enough in the room to scare anyone out of their focus. Your elbow would be sore and colorful for an unpleasant while, that was for sure.

This week has been a hard challenge until the end, it seemed.

“That’s it !” you barely had the time to register his words that Jeremiah was already holding you under his armpit like a purse. “Shower, dinner, then bed. Boys, I’m sorry but I have to cut the initiation. For more information, please go see one of the coaches. Their offices are right on the left after the changing rooms.”

He didn't even leave them time to answer. He quickly grabbed your stuffs, hurried outside of the dojo then tossed you (yes, tossed you !) in his car. He put jazz music in the car then smoothly drove out of the parking lot.

Of course he would put jazz music. He knew how much this genre relaxed you. You pressed your forehead against the pleasantly cold window of the car, sighed in relief at the pressure against your skin, but glared at the very bright and nocturne scenery of Linkon city.

“I wasn’t done kicking him,” you grumbled.

“Him ?”

“It,” you corrected.

Jeremiah took advantage of the red light to look at your slouched form on his passenger seat. He knew how stubborn you were. Especially when it came to recognizing when you weren't okay.

“Do you know the symptoms of lack of sleep ?” he asked after one minute of silence.

“Are you talking about dark circles, constant yawning, grumpiness or horniness ?”

He cast you a brief stunned glance, almost missing the green light. “You’re feeling horny ?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure it is in the list of symptoms.”

“…it actually is,” he said after another brief silence. “And for your information, you’ve always been the grumpy type.”

“Fuck you,” you said without any bite, knowing that he was right.

You closed your eyes, relishing on the coolness spreading on your forehead from the window, then opened them back quickly when you felt your face sliding against the surface. Wonderful, you probably traumatized one or two people on the pedestrian crossing.

“Painkillers are in the glove box.”

You looked at Jeremiah with a raised eyebrow. “Huh ?”

“Your migraine.”

You rolled your eyes (big mistake by the way, it hurt) but gladly opened the glove box and reached for the bottle of water in your backpack. You loved Jeremiah from the bottom of your heart, but there were times when you loathed his observation skills. He would never let you lick your wounds by yourself. He had made the mistake of doing so one time and he still regretted to this day.

Big Brother is literally watching me.

He at least had the decency of waiting you were done drinking before speaking again. “Hallucinations. I was especially referring to hallucinations.”

“Huh ?” you coughed.

“Symptoms of lack of sleep,” he added. “There’s no way you would suddenly insult a practice mannequin while losing your focus.”

“Almost anything could happen in life,” you stubbornly huffed.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes at your words as he parked his car in front of your apartment complex. He then turned off the engine. “Yeah, like you being startled by the silence at random moments of the day.”

You had to admit that you had moments this week where you would tend to jump higher than feline mothers would do to brush their cubs’ ego. Only in your case, these jumps were sincere. You once jumped at the wind thinking it was a deep and warm chuckle.

“Like I said, anything can happen in this life,” you grabbed your bag and exited the car and you heard him doing the same behind you.

Your steps might be slower than usual, but you hurried to walk into the apartment complex, as if running away from this conversation.

But who can escape Big Brother ?

“I’m just saying that if your problem persist, maybe you should take some melatonin.”

You called the elevator and briefly looked at him, surprised. “Oh ? You’re not asking me to see a doctor ?”

“Would you even accept that ?”

“Touché.”

You entered the elevator and had to confront your reflection. Blood-shot eyes aside, you really were rocking that panda style. If only you could follow their sleeping routine.

“You know, for a martial artist, you really fail at self-disciplining,” Jeremiah sighed.

“Hm.”

“I hope you at least have food in your fridge.”

You didn't answer. You didn't even listen. You couldn’t. Because you weren’t in the elevator anymore. All your eyes could see was an abandoned and deteriorated chapel. You felt a cold wind caressing your skin, you even heard water dropping in some puddle. You have been in here before. You often dreamed of that place. As you walked towards the altar, you heard footsteps behind you. Deep inside your soul, you knew. You knew who was behind. But you couldn't help it. You had to turn around. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, moved your feet and finally, opened your eyes.

“Are you coming ?”

Jeremiah’s worried gaze welcomed you back into reality.

“…yeah.”

One would cheer you up by saying that it was the end of the day and that your bed, blanket and cat weren’t far away. Jeremiah, on the other hand, noticed that you were watching the door with an air of dread that no one except him or Caleb would notice. He opened the door himself, his fingerprint being already registered in the lock helping greatly. You both took off your shoes and while Jeremiah made his way to your kitchen, you walked towards your couch, each step heavier than the previous one, and let your body collapse on it.

“Mandrin, we’re home !” you shouted.

A meow of acknowledgement answered you from your bedroom.

“You have enough ingredients in your fridge for a hot pot, which is reassuring.” Jeremiah said from the open kitchen. “I’ll drug you with verbena and chamomile after dinner.”

You didn't feel the need to ask why he was transporting such plants in his bag. As for the way he phrased his sentence, it would tick anyone but you.

“I am tired enough to fall asleep while standing.”

“The infusion is to make sure you don’t wake up.”

“You’d make an interesting serial killer,” you hummed standing back up. “I’ll go take a shower.”

“Don’t drown.”

It was probably because Jeremiah was there, but you felt more at ease between the walls of your apartment compared to these past few days. Still, your odd dreams kept running after you even though you were awake. Murmurs of a rich baritone voice seemed to stalk you down in the corridor until your hand reached for the door knob of your bedroom. When you paranoically turned around, there was of course nothing. So you walked into your room and the first thing you saw was Mandrin sat on the windowsill, as if standing guard.

“You’re not being a judgemental menace, today ?”

Mandrin briefly turned his gray furred head in the direction of your voice before focusing back on whatever he was watching. You shrugged, yawned for the umpteenth time today, grabbed your pajama and your towel then headed to your bathroom. When you undressed, you weren't surprised to find a bruise shyly blooming on your elbow where you fell earlier. The sight and the sensation was far from pleasant, but you trusted time to heal you. The warm water of your shower would do for the moment. Your tensed muscles were thanking its existence. You lacked strength, your body reacted with delay, but you were glad you could enjoy this sensation. It was as if your whole body was sighing, finally entering a stage of peace after the war you put it through (going to the dojo instead of sleeping). The scent of your soap had something comforting too, a sweet scent of berries that reminded you of your grandmother’s pie.

Leaning your forehead against the wet cold tiles, you weren't sure if you could keep word to Jeremiah and not drown. The second you closed your eyes, your shower oddly felt comfortable in a way that should not be possible for such a place. And soon, a smooth baritone murmur that sounded too close tempted you into succumbing into a certain type of drowsiness.

—

“Your existence is the most magnificent poem the universe has ever written.”

When Sylus closed his eyelids, he saw your eyes. These confused yet smart, calm yet stormy eyes. Your gaze was like the sound of your voice : it reminded him of the slight pause storms would take before coming back stronger.

“It is my honor to help you take care of it.”

It saddened him however that you indeed did not remember him the first time you two met in this life. He shouldn't be surprised. You had even warned him in your past life. He inspired you confusion and mild annoyance, but no recognition. Then, the day after, he saw a spark in your gaze. You were also more skittish in his presence than the day prior. He knew that you felt it, the pull of your souls begging to reunite. He could feel it too every time he was near you.

You have lost none of your fierceness, but Sylus couldn't help but notice how hard you tried to dim it. The sight of a predator pretending to be domesticated was quite something. He didn’t know if he liked watching you darken the fire of your ferocity. He’d just have to fan the embers for it to restore its luster.

“Boss-man ! We’re back !”

Sylus paused the recording on his tablet, removed one of his earbuds then finally looked up at the two teenagers walking into the room, their bags still on their shoulders. He raised a single, inquiring eyebrow at them.

“You were right, boss,” Kieran said. “They finally ended up coming at the dojo.”

This didn't really come as a surprise. He knew your hobby was important to you. After some digging (because of course he did some), he noticed how regularly you practiced. If he had boxing, you had wushu sanda.

“I’ve never seen someone this tired throwing kicks that deadly,” his twin added. “I’m glad I'm not a mannequin.”

Sylus frowned after hearing him.

“Tired,” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Kieran nodded. “I think it’s the reason why Mr. Jeremiah picked them up like a bag and stopped our initiation before exiting the dojo.”

“You sure ?” his brother perked up. “I thought it was because they hurt themselves after cursing at the mannequin. Funniest thing I’ve seen today, by the way. Remember that fall ?”

Sylus picked up his tablet to see the visual Mephisto had on your apartment. Nothing behind the window except for a disgruntled gray cat glaring at anything within its sight. No signs of you, not in your bedroom at least. He could see this Mr. Jeremiah cooking in your kitchen, though. Sylus noticed how you always seemed to easily accept things when it came from your friend. You didn't take a single sip from the tea machines he made installed at every floor of the building. One of his first gifts for you and you were completely oblivious to it. It was fine. It wasn’t his last card. He said he was going to help you clear the assumptions you had of him, didn't he ? As the twin exited the room, Sylus put his earbuds back in his ears.

“Your existence is the most magnificent poem the universe has ever written.”

He didn't plan to meet you in an elevator. In fact, hearing and recognizing your voice was the most pleasant of surprises, so great that it almost startled him. Your meeting wasn’t supposed to come this quickly, he wanted to organize it a bit. But what was done was done.

“It is my honor to help you take care of it.”

He was glad that Luke introduced him to that game a few months ago.

—

I’ve definitely gone mad, you thought as your gaze drowned into crimson pools. At least I’m not naked.

One instant you were showering, the other you were standing in the middle of a well-equipped but far from modern cave, right in front of a very draconic version of your boss. He was lounging on what looked like a very uncomfortable stone-made long chair, observing you with an indescribable stare, his tail swishing behind him.

“Mr. Sky,” you nodded, to which he raised an eyebrow. It was one of the most cordial tone you’ve ever uttered. So cordial in fact it almost felt disrespectful. To your defense, you didn't know how to react.

“No.” His tail finally seemed to find its purpose by wrapping itself around your waist. The sentiment of familiarity this action procured to your body almost made you freeze. “You know who I am.”

You didn't know whether to feel offended to be carried like a random trinket, amazed at the strength of the muscles you could feel shifting around you or confused because you were supposed to be in your bathroom.

“Who you are ?” you repeated. “You’re the dream version of my boss.”

He kept staring at you. He didn't seem offended by your tone, he was just studying you with a glint in his eyes you were too oblivious or too closed off to understand.

“Willingly blinding yourself, are you ?” he said calmly. “Does the truth scare you or are you just mistrusting of it ?”

Something in his words gave you a whiplash so violent it threw you back under the warm water of your shower. You gasped heavily, running a hand on your face, then on your waist. You could still feel it, the tail. You could still feel each strong muscle of that appendix that moved to carry you so effortlessly. When finally the sounds of your own heart drumming and your panting settled enough, you could finally hear heavy knocks against the bathroom door.

“You good in there ?” you recognized Jeremiah worried voice. You knew him enough to know that if you didn't respond in approximately the next fifty seconds, your door would be old memory.

“I’m not drowning and I’m not decent,” you answered as you turned off the water and proceeded to exit the shower cabin. “Why ?”

“Mandrin dashed from your room to unrelentingly scratch the door.”

“He what ?” you hurried to erase your lack of decency by putting a simple oversized t-shirt and a short before opening the door. The second he saw you, Mandrin jumped into your arms, drowning your hearing with mewls. You were so taken aback by this unusual behavior from your cat that you remained motionless for a few seconds. You looked down at the very present scratch marks on your door with a raised eyebrow. “Is that... some version of tiger syndrome ?”

You looked down at Mandrin as he started to nuzzle his nose against your chest.

“Looks like worry to me,” Jeremiah said.

You kept yourself from telling him that your cat had been acting weird all week. When you managed to fall asleep, you often woke up to your feline companion biting air around your chest.

“Are you sure you’re alright ? The obvious exhaustion aside.”

“I didn't drown,” you repeated.

“That is not what I asked.”

“Smells good !” you grinned, walking past him with your cat still in your arm. “What did you cook ?”

You didn't wait for an answer, you were already walking towards your kitchen. When the scent of dinner reached your nose, you internally thanked every woman in Jeremiah’s family tree who made it possible for your friend to exist. Your dinner was clearly blessed. And so was Mandrin’s. You could see in his bowl a dish composed of poultry liver and whatever that made your cat leaped down from your arms. No wonder Mandrin tolerated Jeremiah. The furred rascal knew he could take care of his stomach.

“Tell your mother I love her,” you said after one spoon.

“Oh she knows,” Jeremiah wasn’t even fazed. “You made that very clear over the years.”

While your palate was knighting your friend’s cooking’s skills for the umpteenth time, your said friend was pouring you an infusion that smelled as good as the dish in one of your favorite cup. It was in these kind of moments you understood why your granny wanted to set you off with either Jeremiah or another one of your childhood friends. Unfortunately for her, you saw him as a brother figure and nothing more. Except maybe your personal chef.

“Oh, and while you were in the shower, your phone didn't stop buzzing,” pointed at your smartphone with his chopsticks. “Tara must be feeling gossipy.”

Snatching your phone from the side, you noticed that it was indeed Tara. You didn't know if she felt gossipy, but you sure could hear her sweet voice in your mind.

≥ I AM RICH !

≥ TOMORROW WILL BE SHOPPING DAY !

≥ wait

≥ i have a spending limit

≥ i’ll have to call my bank before going to the mall (>.<)

≥ do you think Greyson would like to come with me ?

Your mouth full, you hummed, wandering if your friend was drunk. But her texting was way too clear to imply that possibility.

You found a penny on the floor or smth ≤

≥ i got PAID !

“She’s feeling more enthusiastic than usual but not particularly gossipy,” you noted.

At the same moment you received that message, you heard Jeremiah almost choking on his food. When you looked up at him, you swore you could play marbles with his eyes. Either that or he would use them as seasonings since they seemed to be about to fall into his bowl.

“Somebody died ?” you asked.

“Check your bank account,” he coughed.

“I don’t remember betting anything against you for a while,” you frowned but went into your bank app anyway. It was then your turn to have your eyeballs resign from their duties. They were more zeros on your salary than there should have been. “It's a bug, isn’t it ? A glitch.”

“Tara doesn't have an account in the same bank as ours,” he countered.

“A spam then ?”

“A spam that gives us money ?” he raised an eyebrow that conveyed all his sarcasm.

“A sugar daddy ?” you gasped.

Jeremiah deadpanned. “Go to bed.”

You looked at your phone screen again, narrowing on the several zeros with the attention of someone who was very skeptical of their sense of sight. Last time you got your salary, you were being underpaid because of the last CEO’s hurtful greed, and if the fans of the games you’re voicing in didn't riot on socials and in front of the company’s main building after a trailer where your voice got replaced, you would have lost your job to AI. At the moment, you couldn't believe that you felt slightly overpaid. And as your sight started to get blurry because of how much you were staring at the number on your screen, the face of your new boss appeared in your mind, followed by his warm chuckle.

Even long after Jeremiah went home, you still had difficulties to fathom what was the reason why you suddenly got a decent salary. It was sad, wasn’t it, not expecting decency ?

You checked your bank app in the morning right after you woke up and you still couldn't believe it. You brushed your teeth, checked, didn't believe it. You ate a fruit, fed your judgemental feline companion, checked and still didn't believe it. You turned on the TV, watched a cartoon for a few minutes, checked, and was still in disbelief.

“Mandrin, can you believe it ?”

Your cat swatted your phone away when you put it in front of its face. He glared at you, probably offended that you broke his focus on whatever he was staring at at the window. You picked up your phone and looked at the screen again.

“Yeah, I know. But I have nothing to do this weekend except being flabbergasted at—”

Mandrin swatted your phone from your grasp again with a scolding mewl.

“You’re right,” you nodded. “I should distract myself. It’s been a while since last time I took a walk. You’re running out of snacks anyway.”

Your body clearly missed walking. The music blasting in your headphones, the wind dancing on your skin, your feet following a road only they knew, going in places they were used to go while not following a pattern or an order. You strolled in at least two parks before entering a supermarket you knew. You went in the self-checkout machines because you didn't feel like having an awkward interaction with a cashier. And then you went out and kept strolling. You avoided the streets where the biggest theaters of Linkon city were and ended walking around a lake.

You felt good. You felt soothed.

Which was why your brain asked you the following question :

‘Would he feel good too ?’

The face of your new boss appeared in your mind, his hair crowned with ebony horns.

As you sat down on a bench, you wondered why you were thinking about a person with which you barely talked. It always confused you (confusion was an understatement) how often you thought about him before going to sleep, as if he was someone close. As if you knew him.

Or maybe you were just going crazy.

Which wouldn't be the first time. Your new boss wasn't the first person with whom you have experienced these kind of sensations, but he was the first with whom you had this level of intensity. You internally hoped you weren't turning into a male centered individual. Picking up your phone, you sent a text message to Jeremiah.

Do you think I’m male centered ? ≤

His message didn't wait. He sent you a screenshot of the definition of the term ‘male centered’.

‘Male-centered or Androcentrism is the practice, conscious or otherwise, of placing a masculine point of view at the center of one’s world view, culture, and history, thereby culturally marginalizing femininity.’

≥ You ?

≥ Did you knock your head or something ?

≥ You’re Mandrin-centered

Rolling your eyes but reassured enough, you paused the music in your ears and put your headphones around your neck to hear the nature surrounding you. But instead waltzing with the sound of nature, your senses warned you of two presences behind you. You looked behind, searched with your eyes and clicked your tongue.

Your eyes had fallen onto the two cosplayers who accompanied Mr. Sky the day you met him in the elevator. You had to admit that they were well-hidden. The shadows of the tree they were in hid them good enough for them to only be two dark silhouettes for those who weren’t paying attention.

“Out of the tree you two or I’ll come get you.”

They didn't move. You also wondered if they were breathing. The sight was quite peculiar to say the least. The shape of their masks made them look like plague doctors who have had a taste of aviary madness. Sighing, you stood up while internally wondering why on Earth these two were following you.

“Did they really saw us ?” you heard one ask his brother.

“Why are they picking pebbles ?” you heard the other.

You started to aim in their direction. “Because I feel like hunting endangered species.”

You weren't sure if it was your glare intensified by the grimace your face was making because of the sun spitting in your eyes, or the threat of receiving pebbles, but the two teens came down of the tree with a swift agility that suggested habit. As you watched them, you noticed what your exhausted self didn’t the day prior. The way these two anthropomorphic crows moved and carried themselves. One like a stream calm on the surface but tumultuous under water, the other buzzing like a wind harassing a single leaf hanging on a branch.

“You two amateurs are the kids who aged Jeremiah up yesterday !” you pointed your finger at them.

“Amateurs ?”

“Kids ?”

You scoffed as pieces of a puzzle you had no idea what the model looked like started to fit together in your mind. These two were related to your boss, and would maybe soon practice at the same dojo as yours.

Pawns.

In the back of your mind, you heard Fate wheezing in laughter. But this time, something in your chest told you to face her with your fists prepared. Or maybe you finally had enough energy to face her thanks to Jeremiah’s tea and the cozy and dreamless night of sleep it provided you.

“I’m offended,” you scoffed. “Of all people, he sent two kids who don’t know the right distance to stalk someone.”

“Wha–”

“Hiding in the shadow was a good idea, but you were too close for people who aren't discreet enough. The second my attention came back to my surroundings, you were spotted. We’re in one of the city’s widest park, for goodness’ sake ! Be more creative ! The tree right behind me ? Really ? Kudos for trying, though,” you picked up your bags, rummaged in one of them and tossed to the flabbergasted duo in front of you two packs of pocky. “Here. And tell Mr. Sky that if he needs to talk to me, my nerves are tickled enough for me to accept a conversation with him if he has the gall to personally seek me out.”

As you walked away, the twins looked at each other, still a bit baffled by what just happened. They surely did expect another reaction.

“Uh...we make our report to boss-man ?”

—

You enjoyed your remaining time of walk on your way back to your apartment building. The calm before another storm.

“Mandrin I'm ho–LY SHIT !”

The second he heard your voice, your feline roommate jogged in your direction with an air of smug pride. In his mouth, a bird who was still moving and fighting for freedom with the offense of a creature which had never been in such situation. “Oh no. Oh no no no no no no ! The neighboring murder of crows is going to investigate and take us out like the feathered mafia that it is ! How on Earth did you get it ? Did it fly inside ?”

Mandrin spat the bird at your feet. One of its wings was broken and revealed wires that got you curious and perplex. The bird looked up at you with a ominous red glare. It had the chance of letting out a single caw before getting interrupted by your cat swatting an annoyed paw at it.

“I don't remember raising you like that,” you shook your head and drew a gentle attempt to take the bird. It immediately tried to nick at your fingers. “Ah ! Who raised you ?”

Sylus had a small chuckle behind his screen that even surprised him. He never expected Mephisto to be hunt down then captured by a simple cat but there he was, having a closer look at you through his eyes.

“Wait...Is that a new brand of drone ? Or is this some kind of...ornithopter ?” he heard you ask your cat who just noticed the packaging of his favorite snacks in your shopping bag.

Through the mechanical bird’s eyes, he saw the birth of a thought forming in your mind. A thought that visibly didn't please you much according to the frown slowly forming between your brows. You looked back down at the bird and to Sylus’ eyes, it almost looked like you were directly staring at him. You huffed then murmured to yourself with your voice so low Mephisto almost didn’t hear you.

“I think it would’ve been weirder if it was made of wood. Or white.”

Something pulled in Sylus' chest and he had the surprise of hearing himself letting out a small gasp. He closed his eyes, let a brief memory of you and a certain white crow play before his eyes before setting down the tablet on his desk. Patience had never been his forte and without even knowing it, you’ve been fiddling with it with the same ease you possessed in your previous lives. Now that he met you, he barely could live with the recordings he had of your voice and the secret times of the game. His eyes were hungry for your sight and all the reactions his presence triggered in you. But he had to make do with Mephisto’s point of view for the weekend.

—

Spending the weekend with a duo of animals yet very sassy roommates wasn’t on your bingo card for the week, but your Sunday was less chaotic than you expected. Chaotic still, but much less than you could have imagine. You had to give the new tenant a name since you didn't want to call it the crow indefinitely. You were pretty sure your feline friend wanted to name him ‘Feathered Nuisance’. To dub it, you took inspiration in these staring contests it had with your cat and naming it was a task off your list. Of course, Mandrin and Oculus Malus I loathed each other’s gut with the same amount of abhorrence that would worry today’s historians but fascinate zoologists. And despite having a twisted wing and being very much not made of flesh, this crow was still agile and feisty. It also struck you how sassy it was. Puffing its small torso with smug satisfaction when it managed to reach the peak of the cat tree, taunting Mandrin with his beloved snacks when it wanted to be entertained or cussing you out with angry caws every time you called it with the sobriquet you offered it, this level of sass hinted at an intellect and a sentiency a common robot could not possess.

I’m reading too much into things.

Your apartment turned into a war zone and you had to play mediator. You allowed the bird in almost every rooms of your home except for the office, the bathroom and your room, and he was forbidden of spending the night in other places than the living room. When he stubbornly tried to break those rules, you had to catch him with a butterfly net.

“You’re fast on your small legs, you feathered motherfu— Don’t you dare throw cutlery at me, you punk !”

At each altercation, Mandrin never missed an occasion to shoot you with a ‘I-knew-this-was-a-bad-idea-but-do-you-ever-listen’ glare.

Surprisingly, one of the only moments of truce these two menaces had was when Mandrin decided to stand guard at a window. The crow almost instantly joined his side every time he did that. This Monday morning, you took advantage of its focus to trap it in a big box that you immediately put into an even bigger bag. Its complains didn't wait.

“Yeah I know, you feathered menace,” you said with a sigh. “But I don't have a five stars transportation system for you. Plus, you shouldn't really move too much in it. You’ll damage your wing even more.”

A stubborn little thing, really. It sounded like it grew louder when you walked down the streets. It almost distracted you from the feeling of being followed. Jeremiah often praised it, this ability to sense when you're the center of someone’s attention. You called it hyper-paranoia fed by bad experiences with people.

The subway station fortunately wasn't too far. You just had to walk a bit more, albeit a step quicker or two. You didn't have a plan of action for after your hours at work. Nor did you know what you would do if your boss wasn't in the building when you’d arrive or if he would even arrive be present today. After all, it has been a week since last time you have seen him.

In person. Not in your head.

A brief flashback of tonight's dream quickly popped in your head before loud caws and determined jolts animated your bag.

“Do you ever run out of battery ?” you sighed as you kept speed-walking. The subway station was on sight and those unknown eyes were still on you.

Then, a red and visibly expensive car slowed down right next to where you were on the sidewalk, appropriating the curb as if it was its built right. You noticed it in the corner of your eyes and internally cursed the mechanical bird for shortening the lives of your headphones.

“Shall I drive you to work, kitten ?” you heard and the simple sound of this voice made you freeze.

It took you a few seconds to recover your mobility and finally you turned your head in the direction of the voice. Your eyes narrowed for a brief instant before you shook your head lightly and resumed your walk.

Another hallucination.

“Nuh-uh.”

You didn't have time for any of those. You were being stalked, for goodness’ sake ! And as if the situation couldn’t be worse, not only did your heart started to feel weird, but the crow got more agitated than before. The jolts of your bag helped you being more aware of the different signals your body was sending you. First, the eyes after you were still present. Second, the hair on the back of your neck rose and would do a standing ovation if they could. A sensation that you directly associated with the presence of your boss the few times you've met him.

Oh. Not an hallucination.

You stopped again then looked back at him. He stopped the car and assessed you with an unreadable yet quite intense stare.

“Hm,” you simply did.

Him, on the other hand, let out a light and slightly amused scoff.

“That’s the only reaction I get for having the gall to seek you out ?”

You quietly stared at him. You admired those red eyes that deliciously burned you, those wide shoulders that clothes could not hide the strength, or those lips you were certain were more devastating than in your dreams.

Another violent jolt of your bag threw you out of your daze. Your eyes narrowed and you took a deep breath as you forced to calm yourself enough to analyze the situation. You were being followed and the person you planned to see at work just popped out of nowhere. As if it didn't suffice, the suspicious movements in your bag and the painfully expensive car in the middle of the street were drawing unwanted attention as well as the handsome giant coming out of it and leaning against its door.

“How convenient,” you hissed. “All the good cards are in your hands.”

“Oh ?” he smirked. “We’re playing a game, now ?”

You weighed your options. A bit further was the subway station. In the corner of your eyes, the silhouette of the stalker revealed itself. And as the good stereotypical stalker that they were, that person was of course wearing a cap, a mask, gloves and a pair of shades despite the weather being threateningly cloudy. To try to seem less suspicious than they already were, they quickly walked in a shop and stayed close to the windows. If you chose to take the metro, you would probably be stuck with them while you waited at the platform, in the wagon then later when you'd get down. If you accepted your boss’s proposal however, you weren't even sure if you'd end up at work. And you didn't feel like ending in a documentary without receiving royalties, or disappointing every person who told you ‘stranger danger’ when you were a kid. Nor did you feel like giving Caleb a reason to come back to Linkon. You already didn't know where to hide cat snacks from Mandrin, so hiding a body from anyone would be quite a challenge.

“You started it when you placed your pawns, mister Sky.”

An almost glare tainted his infernal eyes as he crossed his arms.

“I remember telling you my name,” he clicked his tongue. “Use it.”

“You don’t pay me for that,” you looked at the shop again, then back at him. The timing was weird, wasn’t it ? Did he expect you to fall directly in his arms ? Fortunately for you, you grew up to be a frustrating player when it came to games. So you cast your fakest smile, then quickly called for a taxi passing by. “See you at work, mister Sky.”

As you walked past him, he didn't move, only followed you with his burning eyes.

“What about Mephisto ?”

You froze, a gasp shaking your ribcage. Images of a white crow with red eyes flashed mercilessly in your mind. He really wasn’t helping. While you hoped of getting rid of these dreams and hallucinations who plagued you since you’ve met him, he casually spoon-fed you with them without even knowing that you were developing an indigestion. As your brain felt like it was gagging on information it didn't hunger for, you gathered yourself then turned in his direction.

“Who ?”

However, an oddly satisfied glint shone in his gaze, as if he saw something he was looking for. He pointed at the very shaky bag you were holding.

“I’m keeping Oculus Malus I hostage,” you huffed. Meanwhile, the mechanical bird in your bag cawed in offense.

He had the slow blink of an entertained predator as he watched the taxi moving away. And when the car completely disappeared from his sight, his eyes shifted and cruelly pierced directly into your stalker’s. Sylus knew he didn't have to do much to frighten people. Getting rid of pests was a task that tended to be so boring he delegated it to the twins without thinking further about them. But this one was different. Despite his mask and sunglasses, Sylus recognized a familiar face he didn't expect coming after you so soon.

—

You loved paninis.

Caleb perfected his cooking skill as soon as he discovered your soft spot for those snacks when you were kids. Later, he often had one-sided competitions with Jeremiah and wanted you to decide who made the best panini. You even made a map of all the places you could find good paninis in Linkon City. You have ranked these places from ‘edible’ to ‘sent from Heaven’ and consulted your list when you were with the right company.

Needless to say that your nose knew how to recognize paninis of good quality. It picked up on it the second the automatic doors of the building opened to let you in. Each step brought you closer to the scent. When you arrived in the hall, the scent was slightly faint. It definitely came from a floor above but you were confused. Why was this scent that strong ?

“Sniffing something that caught your interest, kitten ?”

You turned around and there he was, gracefully sat down in an armchair that looked way to expensive to be put in the reception of this building, and observing you (not looking, observing) with an entertained smirk. Your eyes narrowed on him for a few seconds, silently appraising his emperor-like presence and charisma (and noting how the receptionists were either nervous, admiring or an understandable mix of both) before walking past him towards the elevators. Of course, he unhurriedly followed you.

“You wouldn't have been stuck in traffic if you were with me.”

“Who knows ?” you said with a stable voice that showed none of the tornado going in your mind at his proximity. As you waited for the elevator, you felt him next to you. Your body surprised you by almost leaning into his warmth, as if it was the most natural thing to do. “If I had accepted your proposal, I could be even more late than I already am. Or absent.”

He had a small laugh that triggered something in your heart and in your stomach. “Cautious again ? I like that. Though, I did say I’d help you clear the assumption you have of me. You also did say I could personally seek you out to my subordinates. Do your words ring hollow ?”

“You genuinely thought sending two kids to stalk me plus an ornithopter to watch over me would help your case ?” the elevator finally arrived and, of course, it was empty. Mentally insulting fate, you stepped in. He casually followed. “I’m offended you think of me as stupider as I esteem myself to be.”

“I wouldn't pursue someone stupid. Don’t insult my standards by insulting yourself,” he said with a stern and disapproving click of his tongue. “Hungry ?”

“I am late.”

“I know from a reliable source you barely ate something this morning.” He pressed the button of the floor of the cafeteria. At your mistrusting glare he chuckled and pointed at your suspiciously now quiet and immobile bag. “How did you call him again ? Oculus Malus ?”

Ignoring the mocking tone, you opened your bag, fished the large box inside it and opened it, revealing a tied down mechanical crow which was glaring at you with a heat you’ve grown used to. Because it was so loud in the taxi (and because the driver visibly thought you were a psychopath about to end an innocent animal), you used the cable of your phone charger to forcibly close its beak.

“You have sent your omen in my home. It has done its job. Take it back.” You picked up the ornithopter and push it against his quite firm chest. For a very brief instant, you froze, surprised of not feeling a hard gem under his clothes. You also pretended you didn't hear his breathing shifting and the very light but sharp gasp he let out at your contact. “I’m tired of you playing with me. Tell me directly what you want. No word play, no evasion.”

He just looked down at you with a gaze so heavy you felt its weight on your soul. He took deep breaths, as if willingly letting you feel the greatness of his ribcage beneath your touch. Then slowly, he took your wrist with a care and a gentleness that confused you. When he took a step further, you took a step back and mentally targeted his exposed throat, ready to strike if he tried something funny.

To strike. Not to bite.

“I remember telling you that I wanted a date with you.”

An annoyed scoff shook your breathing.

“And I remember telling you that there was no need to manipulate or threaten me into having a date with you. Fire me directly.”

He didn't hide his frown this time and you felt an odd sense of satisfaction at the hint of frustration in his burning eyes.

“The games you’re voicing in would lose a lot of their appeal without you. It wouldn't be in the company's best interests to lose you.”

The sudden disappointment you felt almost caught your own self off-guard. Releasing the ornithopter and withdrawing your wrist from his big hand, you moved back to the other side of the cabin while you looked at him with a dismay you did not understand yourself. What did you expect from him exactly ?

“Oh,” you said simply. “You’re one of those.”

Fate had to send your way an obsessive player with the mean to reach the gears behind the games he played, huh. You thought you would only saw them on social media causing havoc in several fandoms by rotting the safe havens that was supposed to be communities. Those people who were persuaded to be married to a fictional character in real life and made it their lives mission to ruin every fan of that said character. Or the voice actor behind it. Was he one of those who wanted to know your identity ? He had the means to do so. Now what ?

His eyebrows twitched slightly at your words before a controlled laughter shook his ribs.

“If you’re going to put me in a box, tell me at least which one it is, kitten.”

The elevator chose this exact moment to arrive at its destination. Muscle memory made you walk out of it, your senses made you freeze after a few steps. What hit you first wasn’t the sight of a dozen of office workers comically rushing towards the cafeteria at nine in the morning, nor the remaining of your phone charger Oculus Malus I threw at you when it finally managed to free itself of it, but the scent of the paninis you noticed earlier.

“Ah yes,” you heard him stepping out of the elevator and stopping right beside you. “Your recommendations truly are a gems among the employees of the building”

Your stomach started to feel uncomfortable. It was still a bit early in the morning, but a small queue in front of a particularly new stand was forming. You took a small step back.

“My recommendations ?”

“Why yes. The lemon tea sure was a success. I am not surprised to see that your new idea is as popular.”

“When did I—” you cut yourself off, remembering the last interaction you had with him, when Jeremiah met him for the first time.

The fact that he remembered such a small part of this interaction flabbergasted you.

This time, Jeremiah wasn’t here to save you with his miracle tea.

“This stand provides snacks made with the best ingredients we could find around. The bread is made by passionate bakers who have been provided with flour of the best wheat. While satisfying the workers of this building, it also supports local farmers and bakers,” he looked back at you, his head tilting slightly. “If you want something more, just tell me.”

You blankly stared at him and he stared back. Despite his smug facial expression, there was something that seemed eager in his eyes. He almost reminded you of Mandrin when your lovely rascal managed to catch a bird or when your neighbor payed him with cat snacks in exchange of his mice extermination services. You almost wanted to scratch his chin.

“Why ?” you sighed simply instead.

“Because I felt like it,” he shrugged just as simply.

He was being evasive again, not telling the whole truth. You knew he knew you noticed and it only brought back his smirk on his lips. But when you took another step back, the smugness on his face melted.

“I’m late,” you articulates, emphasizing each syllables. “If you wanna talk to me, it’s after I’m done with today’s work.”

You turned around and called back the elevator. Sylus watched you walk in the cabin, his eyes not leaving yours until the doors closed. There you were, refusing another one of his gifts. His kitten didn't like the snacks he provided them with. He wondered what idea you had of him this time. A light caw dragged his attention back to the mechanical crow in his hand. Sylus hummed then walked away towards the other elevator.

“Mephisto, I’ll need your wing to be broken for a little longer. I’m sure you can be patient.”

[gabirose33]

i feel like we all need to take a deep breath and remember that fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent!! especially with x readers!!mischaracterisation is not a big deal as long as the writer and the readers are having a fun time writers are supposed to enjoy their writing too

we have bigger fish to fry then a little mischaracterisation!! we should all just kiss and hold hands and have fun and keep tumblr the cool place it is!!

[sillyaa]

The devil works FAST but fanfiction writers work FASTER. I love how even if it is a new anime or an old one I will always find somebody writing about it. Thank you. To all my fanfic writers the masterpieces you are creating are forever loved because how y'all thinking about this on the fly and just start writing. I don't have that skill. I admire that skill and honestly I pray the fanfiction gods are always on your side cuz yes. just YES!!!

[sylusdreams]

Bringing the topic up was a hard thing to do, Sylus wasn't the most understanding person in. He had his issues with things like this for some reason, it scared you sometimes. But, you took a deep breath, let the light of oxygen fill your courage and went into his room anyway. You would get your answer somehow.

"Sylus?"

You knock on the door and then peek inside once it was open.

"Yes sweetie?"

His room was lush — dark lavish walls swallowing your frame as quickly as you stepped inside, the only dot in his darkness was the red, the red objects scattered around and the red of his eyes peering down your soul.

"I wanted to ask you something important." Your voice was steady, rocks stacked on top of each other by the will of God steady.

He raised his brow. Arms now were crossed, his laying frame clearly expecting. Visible chest rising then falling in a new rhythm. It brought your eyes to his tapping fingers.

Part of you just wished you could lay in his warm comfortable bed, cuddled deep between those muscled arms.

"Can I go and take my friends to the new theme park?" You muttered, unsure.

"Of course? I can tak-"

"I'm going to pay for it and the ride." You quickly add completely interrupting him.

"No."

"But!"

"No."

"Why not, you're never like this!"

"Because you're saving up for your new phone and we made a deal, you save up for the things you really want and I handle the fun things."

"But Syyyyy it would be super nice to pay for my friends! They can't go and I want to take them myself" Now you begin to whine, he likes it when you whine for him.

"I don't like deal breakers, sweetie," he looks back at his tablet, "I especially don't like you breaking our deals."

His bed was so soft you felt as if you could slide off at any moment. Sylus had chuckled the moment you plopped next to him on the bed, his large hand finding the small of your back.

"I'll take you guys tomorrow."

"Fuck you lovingly"

"I would do it lovingly"

[thechaoticarchivist]

Chapter 11

Cross Posted to Ao3 Navigation: Ch 1 | Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 5.5 Ch 6 Ch7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Chapter Word Count: 14,921

Paring: Sylus x Hacker!Reader Rating: M (Subject to change) 18 + MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Story Content Warning: All the fun illegal things of a criminal mastermind, including: fights, hacking, stealing, ; human experimentation (reader was experimented on) ; cussing ; slow burn ; boss / employee eventual relationship ; canon divergent ; sex tape used for blackmail (minor OC characters in tape) ; depiction of panic and anxiety attacks ; parental abandonment ; human trafficking ; dead dove (do not eat); tags and warnings subject to be updated Story Summary: The world within the N109 Zone has always been a tough one to navigate, but your only loyalty has always been yourself, and it's kept you alive this long. But when the leader of Onychinus wants you to work for him, well - he's not exactly used to the word no, is he? A/N: Thank you for your patience. I'm working hard to not apologize for life getting in the way, so I won't. But for those of you who have stuck around with me this long, I am eternally grateful. I hope do hope you enjoy.

Hot.

It was so fucking hot.

Were you next to the heater?

Sleep-riddled limbs that weighed more than a car struggled to push and shove yourself free from the confinement of wherever you had lost consciousness. A grunt and a tightening of arms around your middle reminded you that you had, in fact, fallen asleep curled up with a human heater.

Last night…morning? had been - well, you weren't sure it could be categorized into a neat little box for your mind to file away. Emotionally, you were a wreck - a wrung out washcloth left haphazardly on a shower door. It had taken more energy than you thought to eat, and, even then, you ate very little.

And then, after being tricked into taking a bite of something absolutely terrible ("It has an interesting flavor" would never be a statement you would come to trust again, even if it did come with the balm of his rich laugh), you had just…talked.

You had refused to ever acknowledge it. Quietly shoving any memory that had surfaced over your years hidden within the N109 Zone into a box and placed in the farthest corner of your mind. If you just didn't think about it, it would cease to exist.

There were just…not as many memories in that box as you thought.

Enough electricity experiments did a number on the human brain.

The two of you had sat side by side on the couch, and at some point your hand had ended up in his. Sylus' thumb rested comfortably just inside of your left cuff, against your pulse - as if the small reminder that you were very much alive was needed to keep his own heart rate calm.

You watched your joined hands, your own fingers barely at the heel of his palm.

He spoke first. "You know, you can tell me anything."

It was a slow blink as you came back to, eyes lifting to his. "I know," was the response that came with a shift in position and knocked knees, "But this time, I think it would just be easier if you asked what you wanted to know."

He had started with the most obvious, the scarring, where you explained that, due to the fact that electricity naturally occurs in the nervous system, part of your later experiments were to see if connecting a computer directly to your nerves would allow…faster connection.

It did. But at a cost - as most things were. You couldn't feel most anything on your left arm or hand.

He asked about what you had tried on your own, your time with Dash, about your home. He asked about routines of the facility, and if there was anyone you could remember from there at all.

Each answer could have been short, but it was like your brain was slowly unpacking that dusty little box with every question, and, to your surprise, he listened attentively to everything.

At some point, your eyes began to droop, and you were pushed toward the bed, which you fell into easily enough. But then, feeling more raw and unraveled than before, you had reached out for him.

Future consequences be damned. Right now what you needed was something to ground you - a metal rod to guide lighting home, and the only thing that could work was him.

Sylus hesitated at first, asking if you were sure, only to finally lay beside you when you assured him it was what you wanted.

Legs intertwined and chest to chest, your muddling mind found his scent and warmth comforting - grounding - and you had slipped under not long after.

But now - now you were going to die of heatstroke.

"Sylus," you groaned, voice scratchy from sleep. "You're hot!"

His chest rumbled beneath you in a muffled chuckle. "Oh?"

"Not -mph - not like that!" Rolling over, you placed your hands flat on his chest and pushed, but his arm was like an iron restraint. "I mean physically!"

"Keep complementing me like that, kitten, and you might turn me into a morning person."

And then this man, in all the audacity, rolled partially on top of you, pinning you to the mattress.

"Keep going."

"Sylus get off!"

"No."

Trying to move him was the equivalent of trying to move a landslide. No matter which way you pushed or pulled - you were trapped. With an angry shove at his shoulder, words slipped from you without forethought. "You’re going to kill your hacker!"

A rumble shook his body and in a way it reminded you almost off a purr. "Mmm, I like that."

"Like that you’re going to squish me to death?"

"Mine."

The grip around you tightened, and your breath hitched. You blamed it on the biceps pressing in on your ribcage, but the truth was a quiet weight in your chest.

A glance at the clock informed that this nap had barely been two hours, which, you thought, would explain why he seemed more…open.

But even after everything - after being stripped bare and trusting this man with all that you had, your mind reminded you of your roles.

Employer.

Employee.

A year long contract.

And a ruse for information.

You had learned long ago that hope was not something worth having. And yet…

"You’re very odd when you are tired, you know that? We’re going to be late."

"And I told you we didn’t have to go."

"People will notice."

"I don’t care."

"But you cared enough at the market what people thought."

He stilled. Then a grunt, and you were released.

With a sigh, you threw off the blanket, only to curse and bury yourself again. You could hear muffled laughter, as an arm snaked quickly around you, pulling you close once more. Back to the original issue.

" When did it get so cold?"

"It didn’t. You’re just warmer now." Warmer indeed - and, thanks to the arctic shockwave of the air conditioning, you found yourself warmer for an entirely different reason. The weight of his arms, his scent - trapped for so long under this blanket you had no doubt it would linger long on your skin, his breath tickling the fine hairs on the back of your neck.

Oh - you needed to free yourself before you did something incredibly stupid.

There was a noise of complaint as you moved again, but freeing yourself this time was much easier than before. Bracing yourself, you quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to change.

His arm dropped with a heavy thud once you ran, and he lay there, eyes closed, a smirk pulling up the corner of his lips at your whispered curses and sprinting feet.

He continued to lay there, even after the door slammed shut, and took a large, slow breath. The smirk fell, eyes opened, quickly adjusting to the dark. Fingers splayed over where you had been, soaking in the last of your heat as it escaped the sheets.

Energy pulsed within him - angry and coiled, at not getting what it wanted. What he truly wanted. The heel of his palm went to his right eye, pressing against it.

Sylus rarely wanted for anything. And if he did want it, he took it. But you were not merely a thing to be had - not that this damned core inside him knew the difference.

He was so sure that the two of you had finally moved passed labels. That last night had solidified the connection that was clearly strumming between the two of you.

Every instinct had screamed to keep you close - pull you to his side for him, at least, to get lost in your scent, in the shape of you, if nothing else. And yet, he had let you go.

Because he would not be another chain for you. Either you came freely, or he …figured out a way to tame this growing problem of his.

You slipped back out, outfit on, make up kit in hand, letting him know that the bathroom was free for use. Sylus had never been so thankful for a cold shower.

The brunch was hosted on one of the rooftop gardens, and Sylus found himself immediately regretting to agree to go at all. It was much too bright, even with the creeping ivy that covered the pergola over the tables so thickly it might as well have been a roof.

Those who still remained were milling about, having soft discussions and closing last minute deals - abandoned crumbs of meals left on scattered plates.

An absolute waste of his time. The only thing that kept him from spinning on his heel and making one call to ready the jet was the fact that your hand was laced with his, and you were weaving your way to a woman waving in your direction.

His eyes narrowed on her partner, who was ginning back at him like the Cheshire cat.

"I see Margaret has really taken you under her wing."

There was something in his tone, an edge to the statement that had you pausing and looking back at him; the sharpness more warning than comment.

"I thought you liked them?" you asked, confusion evident.

"If they are the reason that I am upright instead of getting a few more hours rest with you, then I no longer do."

With a roll of your eyes, you tugged him forward again. "Isn't part of my role as your date to force you to attend social activities? You can blame that and the fact that apparently your natural body temperature is a million degrees - which is the whole reason I woke up in the first place."

"Well, then next time," he said with a tug that had you stumbling back into him, giving the perfect excuse to steady you with his other hand, wrapping strategically around your middle and head bending forward so the breath of his next words tickled the shell of your ear, "we'll turn down the AC and use just a sheet. You won't be complaining then."

Your heart missed a beat, then thrummed much too fast as he let out a deep chuckle at how flustered you were. The large hand slid back, pushing you slightly forward once more.

"Don't keep your friend waiting."

Before you were able to sit, Margret's arm reached out to snatch yours out of Sylus', tugging you away. “Just going to borrow your girl for a bit! Hope you don’t mind!”

She didn't wait for an answer as you were tugged over to a table covered in pastries. “Showing up late, after Caesar's last speech, was bold. Not that you missed much - what with it being a mini advertisement for himself. What kept you?”

“A large man with a complex wouldn’t let me leave the bed.” It was out in a huff before you thought it through. Margaret’s face widened into a grin - a cat with a caught canary - only growing wider as you stumbled over your backtracking.

“No, hey - um - that’s not-“

But then her gaze changed to one you couldn’t fully interpret, eyes softening into almost pity. “Just a nod or a shake, lovelett. Are you…?”

Frantically you shook your head. She sighed, patting your cheek softly.

“I have been in your shoes. But you do understand the implications of being here with him?”

You nodded.

“You’ve feigned enough confidence this weekend on everything else; V is becoming a common letter on everyone’s lips. Don’t fumble now at the finish line, doll.”

She could see the panic take over, and huffed, distracting you by plucking an enormous muffin from a basket on the table and shoving it into your hand. “If anyone asks, say enough to confuse, not to clarify. You only have to make it another couple of hours. Now, eat your muffin.”

The two leaders sat quietly at the simply decorated table, watching their partners interact.

A snicker came from Ada as she watched Margaret shove a nearly comically large muffin into your hands.

"Margaret always has an eye for pretty things," she said with a sigh, dark eyes giving a quick glance to the man beside her.

Ada's name was barely intelligible with the growl it came out in. A warning. It only caused her to smile wickedly, turning fully toward him.

With a movement as fluid as water, she reached for her glass to take a sip. "So, when does your contract with V end?"

"Drop it."

"That soon, huh? Oh, don't look at me like that. All's fair in love and illegal dealings. Better give her a good reason to stay then, hmm?" She took a sip, eyes forward. "You're not the only one that gives their employees great benefits."

"Enough."

The conversation dropped as the two of you appeared back at the table, sitting beside your respective partners. Sylus' arm snaked along the back of your chair, and you leaned toward him instinctively.

Ada smiled at the movement, knowing that she had absolutely no chance of poaching you for herself. Still, there weren't many people who could ruffle the Onychinus leader's feathers without some sort of consequence, and she always did enjoy toeing that dangerous line.

She'd make a proper proposal still, just to irritate him a little more. Not here - Sylus clearly had had enough.

But she'd find the time again. She was sure of it.

When Sylus had enough of both the sun and people, which wasn't long after you sat down to enjoy the muffin, a quick text was sent and, when the reply came to, you were nearly dragged out of your chair.

Sylus was tired of sharing, and more than ready to go home.

Once flight altitude had been reached, and you had once more freed your ears from the unbearable pressure, cursing Sylus silently for seeming greatly unbothered it, the two of you properly settled in.

The cabin lights had been turned off and the windows covered, leaving only the glow of the red emergency exit lights down the main aisle to break up the darkness in some small way.

Beside you, Sylus was falling asleep, if his slowed breathing was anything to go by. After spitting out your gum, you found yourself following quickly, brain full of the rumble of the engine, eyes slipping shut and head lolling into his shoulder...

The sound of a vibration disturbed both of you, but, thinking it was something being handled, neither of you stirred.

Until it sounded again - and you realized it was in your bag.

As it started going off a third time, you pulled headphones free and connected the call, growling out a "What?"

You were picking up bad habits from someone.

"Where are you?"

"Can you not count? I said three days? This is day three."

"Which is why I'm calling you -"

"Two Bit. Three days. Call me tomorrow -"

"Nononono don't hang up - listen. Please. Where are you right now?"

"In a plane."

"For how long?"

"I don't know - long enough."

An exasperated sigh was loud in your ear. "Look, when you land - we've called a meeting. Gio's already announced there will be a next fight, just not when or with who. He's coming, too - said we agreed to this."

"We didn't agree to shit."

"I - look, you know he's going to hold over us how he helped us all out at the beginning."

"And we all paid our debts back twice over, especially with his betting he thinks we don't know about. We don't owe shit."

"I get you, and I agree. But he's coming anyway, and the group's here - so either you come today, or it's decided without you."

You rolled your neck on your shoulders, wincing at a loud pop. This was not something you needed right now. An extra complication when things were picking up elsewhere…"Fine. I'll text you when we land. Same place?"

"Always."

And then the call disconnected. You moved quietly to put everything back in its place, thankful for the cover of darkness when you jumped at another voice you weren't expecting to hear.

"Should the twins drop you off somewhere when we land?"

"I thought you were asleep."

"Even your whisper is loud in here, kitten."

You shifted back into your seat, working to get comfortable again. "Sorry."

A grunt was your reply. "Well?"

"Ah, no. I'll go after we get home."

"Should I be concerned?"

It surprised you that you didn't have an answer ready for that one. A crimson eye cracked open to look at your darkened form.

"I don't…know." If Gio got his way, this would be something that would disrupt your current job…

You found yourself twisting toward Sylus' seat, even though you couldn't see much outside his silhouette. "So…I may have not been totally honest with you about the underground fights."

"Oh? Is this when you tell me what a Gatekeeper is, exactly?"

The inside of your cheek hurt from where you bit it. "The fights weren't always the tiered structure they are now. The were just…random. Chaotic. Good when you're new and needing as many fights as you can get. Terrible if you good, and everyone wants to challenge you."

"And you were good, I assume?"

"Wasn't good. I was great…eventually. Didn't start that way, but I'm a quick learner, and stronger than most think. There were a handful of us doing crazy amounts of fights every week. We were tired, and if we were fighting…"

"You couldn't work."

"Exactly. So, we got together and proposed a tiered plan to Gio, the manager of it all. A proper tournament to allow for a fair ranking order. After that, a plan on how challenges would work. You wanted to be in the top four, you had to get through ten rounds undefeated, and then the Gatekeeper. From there, you worked your way up."

"And you were in the top four."

That pulled a smirk from you. "I am in the top four. No one has beaten Two Bit in a long while. And the last one that did couldn't make it past Java."

A hum of amusement greeted your ears. "Oh, and where do you fall on the last three spots?"

"You already know - you don't hire less than the best."

That pulled a proper chuckle out of him.

"No one wants to end up like Two Bit, but Gio isn't letting this fight go. That's what this meeting is about. And - before you ask, because I know you're about to say something snarky - we scrimmage with each other on a regular basis to stay sharp just in case."

"But this last battle has confidences shaken."

"…Yes. The kid should've been thrown out, but it's the N109 Zone. People crave blood."

"And, usually, they get what they want."

You weren't able to settle back down for the rest of the flight, as much as you wanted to - your mind was already running through potential situations for when you showed up for this meeting later. Knowing this group, there was already blackmail waiting in the wings, but the question is how much Gio would care.

From all of your years in the circuit, you knew that it tended to be not much. Some people were willing to sell even their dignity to the highest bidder. Gio was your first proof of that.

Sylus, however, seemed to have no issue falling back asleep. You assumed he was used to this type of thing, with how often he was going different places. He was not, however, pleased when you woke him up again - even if it was because the plane had landed.

Luke and Kieran were thrilled to see you again, although they kept asking thinly veiled questions as they drove you back home that caused the two of you to raise eyebrows.

It was put to a stop after Luke's fairly blunt, "Are you sure there's nothing that happened in the hotel room after you last call?"

With a slow blink, and you too tired for a witty comeback, Sylus ended the barrage of questions with a simple, but stern, "Enough."

Mephisto flew straight to you once you made it inside the doors of Onychinus, causing Sylus to scoff, unamused.

But when you froze, gaze distant, the realization that Mephisto was using you as a communication device, and not because you had somehow managed to outrank him, became clear.

It was pitiful even to Sylus that this gave him a smug satisfaction.

"Mephie says there was nothing unusual to report, although you had a couple people mad that you missed scheduled meetings, and they gave the twins a hard time."

Blinking yourself back, you stared at him. "You're usually not that careless with meetings."

The white haired man just shrugged at you before turning to continue further into the base. "They weren't as important as what we were doing."

"Okay, but you could have at least rescheduled?"

"Are you telling me how to do my job?" There was a teasing lilt to his tone, but you met the challenge as Mephisto came to rest his head on top of yours, watching the conversation.

"A little, yeah," you said with a grin.

And before a response could be had, you were already heading up the stairs toward your own room.

Your belly warmed at the laugh that chased after you.

Shedding the designer layers to slip back into the comfort of your well worn apparel was almost a relief. It relaxed you - forced you back to the real world and the expectations that came with it. The auction was done. You could stop playing pretend. Get back to your job.

Although you weren't exactly sure why your chest seemed to ache as you closed your closet door.

It was probably nothing. Something left over from the exhaustion of the trip.

Slipping out was easy enough now that the chaos of the base surrounded you once more. The twins and Mephisto were already busy with orders and you, well, you had a meeting.

There was no thought to a dark bike leaving the garage and racing down the road away from safety.

The normal meeting place was a slowly dilapidating arena, one abandoned many years ago of a newer model with a better electrical grid that ran through the flooring and more seating. The building also now produced a protective electrical shield, designed by Hash but installed by you, to allow for fighters to go all out without fear of injuring patrons.

Scrum had bought the old one for pennies with winnings, fixing it up just enough where the five of you could meet and practice without arousing suspicion.

The first floor of the parking garage had been cleared out enough for a handful of vehicles, which your bike glided into easily enough, parking between Hash's 1967 Chevy Impala, although how much of it outside of the metal frame was from then was now debatable, and Two Bit's 1963 refurbished Aston Martin.

A quick wave over the thumbprint scanner and you were in the door, climbing the back stairwell that led to the smattering of offices at the very top of the building that overlooked the fighting arena below.

Four pairs of eyes jumped to you as you opened the door, only to go back to each other once you slipped inside and slid to an open spot by Scrum on the scuffed leather couch.

"I take it Gio is fashionably late?"

"The fact that you managed to beat him here is…concerning."

With a shrug, you turned toward Scrum, who had their laptop open on their lap and was scrolling through what seemed to be various fox images.

As you opened your mouth to question, the door to the office slammed open once more and in walked the rotund man himself, black hair slicked back into a greasy ponytail, beady eyes taking in each one of them as his lips curled up into a smirk.

"Good. Seems we're all here."

He stepped further in, arms wide to take up the little space that was left.

"We have a fight planned in two weeks -"

"It's not happening," Two Bit cut in, shaking his hand. "We've told you this."

"Ah, ah," the wide man tutted, stepping closer to the larger fighter. "We have a deal. Newbies do ten rounds and go for you. Should they win, and he did, he starts going up the ranks."

"He almost killed me!"

"Then you should've been better -"

Two Bit had figured out control of his prosthetic arm faster than most people would - a benefit of electricity thrumming under your skin at all times. This meant that he was more than capable of grabbing around Gio's rather large neck and forcing him into the wall.

The next part came out as a growl. "The rule is break the robot or yield the wielder. He came after me when the fight was over. That," he slammed him again, "is why no one wants to fight him."

But all the manager did was smirk, even went as far as choking out a laugh. "You're old news, boy. No one cares what you think. Besides, ads are out - gunna have another fight. Next up is Java, and depending how that goes -"

"Fuck no," the older woman said, cutting him off. "I'm not going up against a homicidal punk ass kid!"

"You don't have a choice."

She stepped up next to Two Bit, black boots putting her taller than both men. "There is always a choice," she spat back before your attention turned away.

Scrum, the quietest of the group, had changed their screen once more - now showing a list of financial records from the bank. Based on the amount of red, someone was in deep shit.

You leaned slightly closer. Gio, it seemed, was in deep shit. But a name caught your eye.

"Wait - can you scroll back up?"

XAN SCI LD -$7513.25

A heavy realization slid into your gut the same time fear crept up your spine.

Right there. He's been right there - "Hey, Scrum?"

"Hmm?"

"Why were you looking at foxes earlier?"

"Ah. The new kid - his name. I was trying to find more about him, but there's nothing. All I get is foxes - the name he chose means it in some dead language."

Your tongue darted out and licked your lips, nodding more to yourself than anyone else.

Right fucking there this whole time.

Laughing at you. Mocking you.

Thirteen?

Fists clenched so hard your nails left crescent moons in your palm.

"Can you do me a solid and pull him up again? Vulpis?"

With an arched eyebrow, they did as you asked, tilting the device toward you.

There he stood, the clothes of the fight fitting him better than the poorly tailored suit you had met him in. Something dark twisted in your gut, sending fire through your veins.

"I'll fight him."

It wasn't heard over the din, which had grown into a fairly loud roar of now four voices, so you said again - louder, clearer, angrier.

"I'll fight the kid."

Heads turned toward you, a mix of anger and disgust.

"Like hell you are! We agreed -"

"I know what we agreed, Hash! Very fucking aware he should've been kicked for his stunt with Two Bit. But Gio ain't backin' down, and no one wants to get hurt. One fight is scheduled, it just wasn't announce who. I'll fight. Just me.

"And," your gaze shifted to the man still pinned to the wall. "If I win, he's gone. No restarts, no hacker specials. Gone. Out of the Zone."

But the snake only smiled back. "And when you lose?"

"Well, then you can have all the fights you want, can't you?"

The yelling continued for a good long while after your announcement. Some of it was at Gio, but most of it was at you. A mixture of anger from the sudden betrayal and fear from your stupidity.

You took all of it, much too tired to explain. Too much to try and explain, even if you did have the energy. But all you really wanted to do was sleep. It had been an extremely long day, and you could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind your eye.

On your way back home, however, you swung by your old place, slipped into your apartment, and pulled free a large duffel from the back of your closet. The items were bulky, shifting awkwardly against your back as you made the drive to Onychinus, but the familiar weight was a comfort after the stress of the last few days.

You didn't remember the last time you wore this gear, but you knew this. It would need a proper upgrade before you were back in the arena. And luckily, for you, your boss had the best tools on the market.

You settled into Sylus' workshop easy enough, using the clamps to angle one of your boots toward you, as you climbed onto the large seat, sleep all but forgotten as you mind reeled with ideas to upgrade your equipment before the fight. Carefully, with a flathead, you pried up the metal plate and mess of copper wires out from the carved area in the sole.

The piece was old and needed some proper cleaning. Besides, you had an idea of connecting a few more pieces into the toe and heel for stronger connection.

Carefully you began the process of unwinding the copper wire, quickly becoming lost the familiarity of the work. The monotony allowed your mind to properly process everything from just today. A thought snagged your attention, carving a frown in your face.

You were going to have to tell Sylus. It was going to interrupt the work flow, and you'd be losing some days to make sure you were up to snuff before the fight itself, and the sinking feeling in your gut told you he would not be pleased.

Maybe you could find a way to bring it up casually. Maybe relaxing with a record and after he's had a glass of wine - something that could help ebb his anger toward your decision.

"I'm surprised to find you here," the deep baritone voice echoed through the room, causing you to jump just slightly from surprise, "instead of upstairs combing through the data files."

"It'll be a while yet before I can start filtering."

Sylus leaned against the doorframe with an ease that did not fit someone so large, arms crossing at his chest and feet at the ankles. "That's why I went ahead and adjusted your code for you. I changed the focus to pull what is needed now, and then quietly steal anything else it can get it before it runs into any…issues."

With deliberate control you sat down the tools in your hands, voice growling, "You did what to my code?"

"Fixed it," he said again, unbothered by your attitude.

Your fists clenched, skin pulling taunt over knuckles, and then released. A breath, and the tools were in your hands again. "Sometimes I hate you."

But that only earned you a chuckle. "Fair's fair - you did upgrade my bird behind my back."

"Mephisto asked, that's not the same, and you know it."

His head tilted, white fringe falling with the movement. "Is that for the fight?"

You froze, spine stiffening. How in the hell did he already -

"I got an interesting call earlier, from our friend, Mr. Caesar. He wanted me to know that he had brought the demonstration I asked for to my front door in the form of a fight. His Element against the N109's champion robotics fighter."

Fear spiked goosebumps over your skin at how his tone deepened - darkened. "I thought the meeting was to prevent it from happening."

The silence rang heavy in your ears as your worked on how to respond. But, as it seemed to do often, now, the truth tumbled forward out of your lips…ungracefully and raw.

"Sylus - I need this win. Because between figuring out this Caesar / EVER stuff, and trying to figure out what has been going on between us, and finding a balance between everything I've done before and working here -"

"Between us?"

"I haven't been giving my full attention to things. I'm smarter than this - and yet I've missed every obvious clue. And if this cretin thinks he's going to waltz into my territory and play fucking games, then it's up to me put him back in his place.

"I…I know that it's selfish of me to do this. Selfish to focus on this petty battle when we have been fighting a war, but I need this. I need to know I haven't fully lost myself."

Sylus didn't move. Didn't make a sound. Just watched the muscles in your back tighten so hard they shoved your shoulders up toward your ears. Watched as your eyes narrowed on your work before frustratingly throwing the tools to the bench and digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

And as much as he wanted to go to you, he waited. Silent. Patient.

Knowing that the storm you were wrestling with needed to crash before it could dissipate.

"I am tired, Sylus. Tired of running. Tired of being afraid and always looking over my shoulder. I want them dead. I want them gone."

"Then we destroy them."

A choked scoff met his ears.

"I'm not stupid - this is just one tiny part of a monster. This is bigger than one fight. Even if we stop Caesar, there will be more."

"Then we burn it all down. Slowly. One piece at a time until we can gut the heart out of its chest."

Your head shook as you finally dropped your hands. "You say that like it's possible."

His footsteps were slow, deliberate as he approached you from behind. His hand reached out tentatively, flexed, and dropped to the back of the chair instead, forcing it to spin toward him just so. "Sweetie, you're not hearing me. I would burn the world down if it meant you could finally feel free."

It was hard to meet his gaze with heavy words such as those. Harder to maintain when you could clearly see the truth within them.

And then you ruined it - a yawn slipping free.

"You need rest," he stated, standing up to slip thumbs into his pocket. A picture of nonchalance. "It's been a long weekend for the both of us. Go to bed."

With a shake of your head, you spun back around. There was too much to do - "Hey!"

A familiar mist had slipped the tools from your grasp, holding them high overhead. "Whatever this is can be done tomorrow with a fresh mind. What…are you doing, exactly?"

"Upgrades," you grumbled, practically rolling off the tall chair to the floor. You cleaned up your workspace, placing the jumble of wires, metal, and sole back into your bag and shoving it under the desk.

Sylus waited, refusing to leave until a stubborn kitten actually left the room first. He knew too well that if he stepped out first, he would find you back down here when he awoke tomorrow.

With a brief goodnight, you parted at the stairwell, climbing the rest of the way to your room alone.

You couldn't settle. Your brain was too full of everything - too full of the causal touches from the weekend. Too full of your upcoming fight. Too full of being so caught up in everything you had missed Fox Face being right in front of you.

Not just right in front of you, either, but actively tracking you.

You, who had gotten too relaxed here. Gotten comfortable in the safeness this mansion had brought you. Comfortable in being seen with the twins - with him.

For the upteenth time you rolled over with a heavy sigh.

Gods, you were exhausted, and still sleep would not come. When your thoughts would settle in one area, they reared up in another - the sheets were too scratchy (they weren't). The room was too cold (nothing extra layers wouldn't fix). The bed felt too big (debatable).

No, the truth of it all was much quieter, and one you were still nervous to admit to yourself.

The truth was that, even amid the chaos, the best sleep you had gotten, even in broken hours, were laying next to someone. It was still a new feeling you weren't used to - trust. Trusting someone at your most vulnerable.

Another fluff of your pillow, another twist in the sheets, and you were groaning in frustration. You needed sleep.

An idea slipped in like a whisper.

Just…one more night. He wouldn't mind, right? If you just…joined him. In his bed. For sleep.

That wasn't a weird thing to do now, right? Not after these last few days?

I like the sound of that. Mine.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, desperate for a few hours of proper sleep, you freed yourself from the tangle of blankets and slid out your bedroom door, down the hall and the stairs as quiet as a shadow.

The knock was almost comical on how gentle it was, as if you were hoping for no response, but what you received in return was a grunt, and a raspy, "What?"

With a twist of the door handle, you opened it only enough to slip inside before closing it again. A burning coal watched your movements from a sea of silk, tired, but curious as to why you have come to him at this hour.

Without a word, you came to the side of the bed, pulling the sheets up enough to slip under them.

"I can't sleep," you whispered, as if anything louder would break the spell over the room.

Sylus adjusted instantly, pushing up on his forearm so that he could throw the heavier blanket off as you slid closer to him. When you were within arms length, he wrapped his arm around your waist, and pulled you even closer before settling back down on his stomach.

Instinctively, you curled into his side, a sigh of contentment slipping free from the weight of his arm, the heat of him surrounding you.

"Using a monster to scare off your nightmares?" he teased tiredly, hand gently squeezing you close.

"No," you responded, the next words strangled by a yawn. "You're not a monster. A protector - like a dragon."

You were too tired to notice his arm stiffen around you, or the way his breath caught in his throat. You didn't even seem to think twice how his chuckle was strained and not just tired. "You've been reading again," he said, willing his muscles to relax.

His nose pressed into the crown of your head, taking a deep breath of your scent to settle him. "Have you forgotten what happens to dragons when the princes find them? They are no more than an obstacle to be slain."

"People are stupid," was your reply, sleep finally starting to pull you under, now that you felt safe. "I'll stick with the dragon."

A knot too large to swallow was stuck in his throat at your words. A response came to him, but your soft breaths told him that you were already past being able to hear it. Instead he adjusted, letting his lips just briefly pass over the crown of your head as he settled into his new role around you.

Protector. Not a monster.

He liked the sound of that.

When you woke, it was alone. At some point you had tucked yourself around one of his pillows, and the heavier blanket had been placed over you once more.

It was a struggle, being surrounded by comfort and warmth, to convince yourself to get up, but you found fully waking easier than expected. You had slept. Soundly. Feeling properly rested for the first time in you don't remember how long.

You felt…good. Well, until you saw the time and how late you slept.

Sure, you didn't have a set schedule, but you did have a routine, and plenty to do that sleeping three hours past your normal wake up was enough to make you panic, flying out of Sylus' room, up the stairs, and into your own to change quickly.

First came security. You hadn't checked in properly since being back, let alone checked what you had Luke set up for you (and Sylus apparently updated) but that had to be priority one. And when your brain turned to mush from the files, you could go downstairs and work on the plates for your boots.

The door to the security room was rarely closed anymore, so you didn't think twice as you ran through the opening.

As you bent double to breathe, his chuckle filled your ears. Of course he was in here, waiting for you.

"Look who finally decided to join us."

"You didn't wake me up," you said with a huff, sending a halfhearted glare your way.

You left me alone.

The smile he gave you was soft, just on the side apologetic. "I received a call that required answering, and you needed the sleep. I figured it was better to take it elsewhere."

I didn't want to.

Your mouth formed an 'o', and you found yourself biting back your prepared quip. You knew better than to ask about the call - if he did not willingly provide details, it wasn't something you needed to worry about. And you had enough as is.

"Did you need something?"

He nodded, once more messing with the stress ball you kept on your desk."We're starting a new regiment - today."

"Today?"

"Get dressed."

"Sylus, this is what I need to do first -"

"No, what you need to do is learn to defend yourself in a dirty fight. And learn how to hit back." He stood, tossing the ball to you as he made his way to the door. "Besides, it's good to start the day with exercise. It'll fully wake you up."

He waited until he was far enough around the corner that you wouldn't be able to hear them.

"Luke. Kieran."

They were there nearly instantaneously, having been lurking in the shadows of the hall.

"Go get changed - you're sparring her today."

Kieran let out a small whoop until he heard the next part.

"Don't hold back - fight dirty. Use your Evol to get ahead of her."

"But boss -"

"She needs to learn how to adjust on a dime, and the two of you can help get her there."

"Isn't that throwing her into the fire a little?" Luke said, glancing between his twin and his boss.

Sylus nodded. "The only way to forge steel is to temper it with heat," he was already moving past them, pulling out his buzzing phone. "Five minutes."

Dual "Yes, boss!" was heard, and then, as silent as they had appeared, they were gone again.

The next hour of your life was grueling. While you were used to the twins normal antics, you had never fought them one on one before, and they were tricky. Hell - not just tricky, damn near impossible.

They used a combination of speed and each other to move - so used to having to read people, it only took one of them seeing a slight shift in your demeanor for them to block and nail you with a hit.

Another round left you on the floor, breathless and frustrated. You had better ways to spend your time, you thought, but Sylus wasn't letting you leave until you got a proper hit on one of them.

The last two had just been lucky.

Luke leaned over your head, while his brother leaned on the ropes, both heads cocked at you.

"I mean...you could always just...shoot them," Luke said. "The whole point is that it's an unfair fight, right? Bullet would even that out."

"Not helpful," you huffed, still trying to catch your breath.

"Oh. Right - because you still can't sh-"

Your glare was enough to freeze the word in his mouth, but Sylus was already turning, curious at the end of that statement.

"She can't what?"

"She can't aim for shit," Kieran covered quickly.

Carmine eyes glanced between you and them, a brow raising in distrust. "Regardless of your 'aim'," he said with a clear tone before addressing the twins, "They do check for actual weapons before the fighters enter. Teaching her how to fight dirty is the best we can do."

You made a point to stare directly at the bright lights in the ceiling as three pairs of eyes stared at you from different angles.

Kieran was the one to brake the silence. "You gotta use your Evol, V. You haven't used it against us at all. It would give your punches additional power."

"Yeah, but the problem is I can't. Like…legitimately. I run a current too long through my body, my muscles will spasm, and I'm fucked."

"Then stop directing it through you," Sylus said, turning and, based on the sound, moving furniture around the room.

Your brows furrowed, equal parts frustration and confusion of the sounds you were hearing. "Okay, smarty pants, and how do you propose I do that?"

"Take it from one thing, and put it in another."

You blinked. Slowly. You mouth opened in a snarky retort, and then closed as the realization slipped into your mind.

His lips quirked the moment he noticed it.

You sat up quickly, eyes locking on your boss."You want me to make lightening."

"In a sense." Sylus' attention was back on the furniture, his evol dragging over smaller devices and lamps toward the ring. "Electricity is straight forward - it needs a place to land. We capture this in circuits to power devices."

You knew this - but the bobbing heads of the twins told you who this was really for.

"You access things because you add yourself to the circuit. You force the electricity to go through you to close the loop, which drags you into the natural flow of what you're trying to access. In essence, you briefly become a part of it.

"It's also why it tires you. You're unintentionally losing a bit of yourself in the flow, and with that, control. This is what we need to change. Instead of adding you to the circuit, you're going to break it. Take from it and then force it to ground somewhere else."

Sylus then moved a training dummy into the ring, and Luke hopped out next to his brother. "You did this in the hotel. With the bug. You may not have realized it at the time, but being it was in front of my face, I was able to see it. When you reached for it, you released enough to short it."

You stared down at your gloved hands, replaying the moment in your head. Was that what you did? You were half asleep and panicked about being too late. There was no time to think; you reacted with what felt natural.

"Redirect it, don't take it. Though, that may be another skill worth working on later."

Easier said than done, was the next immediate thought you had.

The thing about electricity, that most did not understand, was that it was a wild, living thing. It wants a place to land - wants the fastest way to get there, too, which maybe a different path than the human asked to wield it think it might be.

Circuits were safe - the electricity flowed in a predictable pattern. Slipping in and out of that pattern was like slipping in and out of traffic. Easy enough anyone could do it, and more experienced drivers could do it quickly.

But when you leave traffic, it still continues down the paved road.

You were essentially being asked to move the road to redirect the traffic.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, and flexed your Evol, just feeling. In your mind's eye, you marked every distinct flow within the room so that when you opened them again it would all overlay.

The lights above. The security system. The sound system - speakers in the corners of the ceiling and the main unit that had now been moved to your right side on the floor just beyond the ring. A tall lamp now beside it.

That is the one you chose to focus on.

Just…break a circuit. And don't let the flow stop. Yeah, totally not complicated. You could do this.

Raising your hand, you reached outward, snagging the flow in the lamp closest to you. The bulb dimmed, crackled as you pulled on the current toward the dummy.

Electricity hummed, jumped, and sputtered - sending sparks everywhere.

Yeah. Totally not complicated.

The next week became a strict timetable. You started the day with rounds with the twins. After a shower, would work tirelessly on combing through files for anything useful. Get frustrated and go down to the workshop to enhance your gear. And then Sylus would pull you again to specifically work on your evol. Somewhere in there you would eat, and then you would crash hard for a few hours.

The calendar ticked closer and closer to the date of the match, which only increased your frustration as you struggled with the concept of using your evol as a weapon and not just a tool for hacking.

With a deep breath, you held out your hand to try again. This time, when the lamp dimmed, there was a clear pull of white-blue electricity, but it sputtered out halfway to the dummy. Dropping your hand, you groaned in frustration.

"You're thinking too much."

"Oh, I'm sorry - should I just let the electricity run wild?"

A quick flick to the forehead had you wincing. "Using your evol should feel natural, not strenuous. The more you think, the harder it's going to be."

"Then what exactly is the point of trying?" The narrowing of crimson eyes had you turning your snark back to the lamp.

You felt him before your brain had comprehended the sound of his steps. He was dangerously close to you - back against his chest, legs bracketing yours.

"Currents have a natural flow to them," he said, softly, as he lifted your arm, trailing his fingertips down it until his aligned with yours. "Stop fighting to contain it. You are a guide. Show it where to go; let it figure out the easiest way itself."

Red and black mist danced around your arms, the light touch almost tickling as it slipped down toward your open palms.

He redirected your hand toward the lamp again. A sigh of determination slipped through your nose, although your heart rate had skyrocketed not from the task at hand, but the method of teaching.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he spoke next, voice low and quiet, breath dancing off the shell of your ear.

"Breathe, sweetie."

It wasn't for lack of trying - your lungs just weren't cooperating. You managed it, one shaky breath in and out.

Another deep breath allowed you to refocus; push clear enough to see, although now you did it within a blink compared to before. Fingers twitched lightly, snagging the current and causing the light to dim, and then you moved quickly - as the current raced toward you, you threw your hand, and Sylus' along with it, toward the dummy instead.

It landed with a small clap of thunder, but instead of celebrating, you flinched, twisting away.

A large hand settled on your stomach, anchoring you in place - anchoring you to him. "Easy. I got you."

The other hand that cupped your outstretched one gripped a little tighter, thumb rubbing up the bone of your own.

"That was good. Again."

And you did - with his guidance, his support, you nailed the training dummy again. The wince was still present. You didn't think it would go quickly - fear of the sound still sat deep in the marrow of your bones.

The training dummy only had slight markings, compared to the sound it produced, and, as much as you understood why you were being trained, hoped this was something that you didn't actually have to use.

Each successful attempt, Sylus moved back just a little more, putting the power back in your hands without you fully realizing that he had done so.

Slowly, after a few more days, the electricity stopped bending toward you first, and directly moved from one object to the other. A full hand movement wasn't needed, but, mentally, it helped.

And once you could do it multiple times in a row without issue, the expectation changed to fighting the twins again.

"I want you to pin them," Sylus told you, strapping your gloves on your hands. "You don't have to use your ability to do the pin, but you should use it during the fight. Getting shocked is enough to throw someone off their game. Seize your opportunities when they present themselves."

You gave a nod, but your gut was churning. What if you hit them with too much? What if it wasn't enough? Gods above and below, what if you did something to permanently injure -

A flick to your forehead brought you back, and you hissed in pain.

"Stop overthinking. Lean into what feels natural."

Climbing into the ring, you made note of the flows of electricity around you. Everything had been put back in place. If you were going to pull, you were going to need to do so from farther than you normally practiced. Luckily, you knew this room like the back of your hand.

Kieran was up first this time. Both of you settled into a starting stance, waiting for Sylus' start.

And then you were both moving. Circling. Watching.

He moved first, throwing a jab that you dodged, but he blocked your rebound to his stomach. You watched for an opening, getting in a few clean hits, working to keep him in areas that didn't overlay too much with your eye. It became a blind spot, one you couldn't afford to have.

That was the pattern for over a minute. Quick series of jabs and punches from each of you, cleanly blocked by the other.

Then you saw it - the tiniest tell as green eyes jumped just past your shoulder, checking in with his brother for something previously communicated.

Now. The speaker was the closest. You pulled hard, hiding the motion behind a poorly aimed hook - one that had the twins grinning and your boss tsking. But you had a plan.

Lately, you hadn't been focused on the files you've received. You've been doing something else - studying anatomy in a way people would think you were switching career paths. There was a muscle near the rotator cuff, the subscapularis, that, if you could get enough electricity through to it, should cause the arm to spasm, giving you a second or two of advantage.

The problem was, you still struggled with figuring out how much was the right balance. You didn't really feel it when you interacted with electricity. Your nerves lit with almost a ticklish feeling - just enough to know that you were interacting with it.

Everyone else (and by everyone you meant the two brothers who really thought they could touch the live line while you were practicing without consequence) found even the smallest wattage to be extremely painful.

So, at least here, less was more. Less was easier to control, too, which is why a lazy hook, easily blocked with a scoff, allowed you to pull and land it into his shoulder.

Kieran's arm immediately dropped.

As he blinked, you swallowed back your fear that you had done permeate damage, you rushed him - grabbing him around the middle, knocking his left leg farther forward and using the momentum to push him backwards onto the mat.

He stilled - eyes blinking at the ceiling in confusion. The other two men did as well.

It counted. Here, being able to bring either of them down to the mat fully counted.

No one moved; no one breathed.

You moved first, already ripping the velcro of your glove free with your teeth and checking his arm. "I didn't hurt you, did I? How's your arm? Can you feel it? Wiggle your fingers."

"I'm fine, V - look, see? Moving fine."

Kieran wiggled his fingers for you, but he was still holding his arm with his left hand. "Whole thing's numb, though, shit. How did you do that?"

"Don't answer that," your boss responded from the ropes. "And you, switch out with your brother while you wait for feeling to come back.

Sylus waved you over to help re-secure your gloves. "Once is a fluke, twice is the start of a pattern. Do it again."

That was as much as a complement as you were going to get.

Luke was mumbling under his breath that his own arm was still feeling effects from what you did to Kieran, but you knew it was more residual that actual. He would still be able to move better, even if it was tingling.

You still waited though, waited for Luke to drop low before you followed suit. It didn't do you any good to practice with someone already down a limb.

Again, when given the go ahead, you started circling again. Pacing, throwing and blocking in equal rhythm with each other. Luke's green eyes stayed locked on you, but he was adjusting by an unseen voice. You realized this when it dawned on you that your back was currently closest to the speakers that lined the wall.

Neither twin would let you do the same move twice.

They were also getting better about hiding in your blind spots, which frustrated you. It forced you to move awkwardly to keep him better in sight.

You weren't going to be able to feign a punch this time. Bright specks sat on a table just outside of the ring, to Luke's right.

Everyone's phones. You hadn't thought twice about it, all of you used to leaving them there during a normal workout.

Well…bye bye battery. This shock should be even more minimal than your first, so it had to be placed well. You wouldn't be able to feign another hook, but he had just opened himself up for a kick. You twisted, pulling your left leg around hard, and he barely had times to get his arms up.

Luke caught your foot, which you were expecting. What he hadn't noticed, however, was that the kick was a perfect arc near the phones, allowing you to pull and redirect flow into the back of his knee.

Matching "Oh, fuck!"s were heard as his knee gave instantly, which gave you the height advantage you needed to flip him on his back and pin him to the floor.

When you looked up for acknowledgement of successfully getting through a dirty fight twice, you noticed Sylus' smirking face was looking down to the side of him.

Kieran's hands were hanging onto the lower rope, and you could only see those and the top of his red hair. Slowly he pulled himself back to standing. "What did you hit?"

Rolling off of Luke, you pointed to the back of your own knee. "There's a little fluid sac back there that if you hit causes your knee to instantly buckle. I just…didn't realize it would cause yours to as well," you finished sheepishly.

"Stop telling them how you're doing things," Sylus drawled, attention back on you. "You'll lose being able to use it against them again in the future." He looked toward Kieran, but nodded his head toward you.

"You're up."

"Uh…actually boss, my arm's still kinda…tingly."

"Maybe we should take a break?" Luke piped up from the mat. "Or, you could spar -" His face paled with the look he received behind your back, "Or…we could continue this again in a few minutes? When the tingles stop?"

So that's what you did - you'd go until the twins could no longer feel a limb, and then took a break. It wasn't consistent - the rounds or the breaks, depending how things went. You still found yourself on your back or incapacitated in some way more often than you would like, but you won at least half the time.

Not that your boss liked those numbers. While, for you, at least, it had been a fairly successful practice session, to him it was a sign you were rushing into something headfirst that you weren't ready for.

And yet, you persisted, because truthfully, that was all you could do.

In a future session, he even had you scrimmage in your typical gear. You were ready to fight him on this, but he brought up a solid point - when was the last time you wore it? Could you remember the feeling of the weight of it all?

It was harder than you thought, especially with your boots. And you also found out that the jacket you normally wore to hide your frame significantly hindered your movements - now much too tight in the shoulders, so that, sadly, also had to go.

Your shape had started changing over the months of you training with Sylus. You hadn't realized how much until now, when something from years ago no longer fit. And why should it? You were no longer that person, either.

As the countdown became just days on the calendar, you found yourself thoroughly focused on one thing, and one thing only. So much so, that you found yourself surprised that Sylus had once more taken up residency in your chair in the security room.

"What are you doing here?"

It was a silly question for the man who owned the building and led the biggest crime syndicate, and yet, it still felt odd to see him in this room.

"Oh, just spending time time sifting through the stolen files of our new Ever entrepreneur."

"I - you -" You lifted your hands and rubbed them down your face. You were slipping - since when were you this disorganized? "I'm sorry. I haven't been focused."

"I don't understand why you're apologizing. You have been focused on being prepared for this upcoming fight, which is to be expected. So I have picked up where you've needed help. You weren't hired to take on every burden, kitten. You do me no good burnt out."

Something inside of you knew, deep down, that he was right. And that something untwisted just a little from receiving any type of help. But your nose still scrunched in distaste, for you had gone too long only trusting yourself.

And to admit you needed help felt too much like defeat for you to find gratitude on your lips.

"I've already found the bank accounts of those that did agree to…support Caesar's latest project," venom coated his words. "The next will be just connecting them to who. After that - well, I may be acquiring quite a few new companies."

You opened your mouth to let him know that you already had a fairly extensive list of bank accounts, but he cut you off before the first sound left your mouth.

Because he already found that list. And was running a check now.

And for whatever reason, that seemed to snap something fraying inside of you. It wasn't that he had crossed a line, really. You worked for the man. Technically he could do this.

But that was the problem. He could do this. On his own. Again.

He didn't need you.

His laugh as he let out an "ouch" from where you punched him in the shoulder only served to make you angrier. "What was that for?"

"We're sparring," was all you said, before turning on your heel and going back out the door.

"Sparring? But you don't like sparring with me because, what was it you said?" his voice changed pitch as it followed you down the hall. "Oh yes, 'You're like a level 99 boss against a newbie player.' "

"Now, Sylus!"

Not used to being ordered around, he remained seated, gray brow jumping at the open doorway. Curiosity, however, eventually got the better of him. Sylus wasn't sure he had ever seen you worked up like this before - at least not at him. He wasn't quite sure what he had done, but he was curious how you would fair against him now with the new style of training.

With a sigh, he set down the tablet he had been holding, checking the program was still running. With the information you already had, it was over halfway completed.

That's fine - he had time to kill, anyway.

Let's see what an angry kitten could do.

You were nearly done wrapping your wrists when he finally joined you in the gym. You spoke before he said anything. "I'm making this a wager. Winner is three taps - like before. But no Evols."

"A wager? Need I remind you how the last one worked out for you?" Sylus said with a chuckle, watching you pull your gloves on with your teeth.

"Yes, well - I have a couple more months under my belt now. I bet I can land three hits this time."

"Whatever you say, sweetie," the grin on his face only schooled your resolve. "And what will you get if you succeed?"

"You have to answer my question." You raised a gloved hand at him as he opened his mouth. "No, listen. You have to actually answer my question. No dodging or prettying up words to get around it. A straight answer."

The grin softened. "Alright - and if I win I get a favor from you of my choosing."

You blinked. "I work for you - how is that a beneficial?"

Sylus shrugged. "Guess you'll find out when I ask of it."

"Ooh - so confident you're going to win?"

"I never take deals if I'm on the losing side, sweetie." He held out his own glove for you to tap. "Let's see what you got."

It turned out you were a much better student than Sylus gave you credit for. Not only had you managed to hone in the basic techniques, but you were able to start applying your natural abilities with them. While the white haired man used his strength and height, you used your speed. At first, Sylus thought you were dodging due to lack of confidence, but then when you managed to a double hit, he realized what you were doing.

So he upped his own attacks, managing to land two of his own. It was sheer luck (you told yourself) that you managed to slip back a step to evade a punch and ended up with the perfect opportunity to test the newest skill you had learned on your mentor. And before Sylus had a chance to fully recover from his own swing, you swiped his foot and forced him to the mat.

An umph of surprise escaped from the man before you gently tapped his cheek with your glove for good measure, grinning when you said, "Three."

"Well done," Sylus praised through a lopsided grin, but then he moved, flipping you and pinning you beneath him. "Although anything outside of zero would have marked improvement."

You huffed and, not one to let your victory be temporary, put another lesson into practice. Bucking your hips upward to force the larger man off balance, you wrapped your arm around his right one, tucked your leg, and forced him down to the side of you, the momentum rolling you on top of him.

It was awkward with the gloves, but you smiled down anyway - bopping his stomach with a glove. "A victory is still a victory."

His laugh vibrated through his whole body, making you acutely aware that you were currently straddling his waist with your last escape. Heat pulled in your belly, and you refused to acknowledge it, forcing your thoughts instead on removing your gloves - something to keep your eyes away from the pair studying you.

Gloves grabbed your hips, startling you from your inner thoughts, and you realized Sylus was holding you steady while he adjusted under you. Your following heartbeats were almost painful as he settled back. "Your prize, miss?"

Rolling your eyes at the formality, you dropped your glove to the side, quickly pulling off the other. Then you held up an open palm, waiting for Sylus to hand you his so that you could help pull it off. It was the least you could do…in this position.

"I want to know why you hired me."

There was a scoff as you worked the strap free. "That hardly needed a bet, kitten. I hired you because you were the best."

Your pointed look made it clear that was not a satisfactory answer, which only received a raised eyebrow in return. "Was I wrong? Should I start my hunt again?"

Pulling the glove free a little too hard, you glared back. "It would be extremely hard to find anyone better than me." That earned you a laugh - a full one with a smile. Sylus gave you his other gloved hand. "But that's not what I meant. You don't actually need me, do you?"

In this lighting, his eyes reminded you of rose petals, and they studied your face closely as you freed his hand.

"No, in a technical sense. I don't." He moved the hand freed to behind his head, and rested the other on your thigh. "But, as you have previously mentioned, I tend to hire people for things I don't want to do myself. And due to previous choices, I needed to decide where to save time, as it were."

Curiosity got the better of you. "What happened?"

"That's a second question, sweetie."

"Consider it a sub-question."

There wasn't a laugh that time, but more of a pained smirk. He rubbed your thigh with his thumb, eyes watching the motion, and yours watching him. It was a minute or so before he spoke again.

"There was…someone that appeared a few months before I hired you. And I thought she was…well, it doesn't matter now. She needed help, and I gave it to her."

An unease was building inside of you, but you couldn't pinpoint why.

"While my focus was fully on her, things around here slipped. People tried to take advantage of my distraction. By the time I was focused on the N109 Zone again, there was a lot of clean up to be done, and I needed someone who could get me information quickly and keep the base in check while I straightened things out. I asked around, and your name came up repeatedly, which is why I wanted to hire you, specifically."

He said the next words gently, but flicked your forehead, willing you to hear him. "I hired you, because I needed help. And there is no shame or weakness in asking for it. There is strength in recognizing what you can and cannot carry."

The gentle squeeze on your leg signaled the end of his answer, and then his eyes met yours again. But there was something there that you did not like - something hurt.

"What happened to her?"

"You're getting greedy now, kitten. A third?" But with a sigh, he indulged you anyway. "You are a rarity in the fact you look for dragons while others hunt for princes."

Sylus was pushing himself up now, causing you to slide down into his lap. You grabbed his arms instinctively to prevent yourself from falling. "But the past cannot be changed, and is not worth dwelling on. And, while, yes, I hired you to fulfill a need, I have grown to enjoy your company regardless of your skill set."

Something in your gut bubbled. The way he looked at you brought all of your swirling feelings toward the front of your mind - the joyrides, the quiet hours, everything at the auction... There, truthfully, was the real question. The actual thing gnawing at the back of your mind. It wasn't that you wanted to know why he hired you, exactly.

It was wanting to know if you were worth more than your ability - the part of you that most people only cared about.

That was the thought you had recently untangled within yourself as well - that you enjoyed being here, and it had long stopped being just another job. You had grown stronger, not just physically, but mentally. You had learned to trust again. Learned how to laugh freely. Learned how to play in ways that were more than games teaching survival.

And it was all thanks to Sylus. Sure, yes, it had started as a means to an end. But the way he was looking at you, had been looking at you… The way your heart pounded and calmed at the sight of him. It was much more than that now, wasn't it? Past just enjoying each other's company.

It was something that you needed to stay before you lost your gall.

Before you could respond, Sylus' brow furrowed, and his head turned toward the door, hearing something you hadn't just yet.

You flinched when it was slammed open into the wall, and bit back a frustrated sound of being interrupted. Right when you thought you might be on the cusp of clarifying whatever this was, there was something that needed his attention.

You went to move from your fairly compromising position, but large hands held your hips still. And since Sylus clearly did not want you to move, you couldn't. It was a quick reminder of the strength he constantly held back with you.

Distracted by your thoughts, you missed the conversation happening, but not the way Sylus' jaw had clinched. What was wrong?

His hands released their hold and you stood, offering your own to help him to his feet. Watching his face slip into the mask that was the leader of Onychinus was always memorizing as it was terrifying, and you were surprised when it didn't fall just yet.

Instead, his eyes remained kind. "Was your prize satisfactory?"

You nodded once, and then the shift happened - the one that reminded you with a painful pang that you needed to figure out whatever this was because he was still your boss.

"Good. Go shower - I'm going to need you soon."

Sylus was not one to jump when someone ordered, and he would not tolerate anyone's attempt to try to do so in his own home.

So he took his time. Showered, dressed, swung by the kitchen to grab an orange, which he peeled and ate leisurely. Then he washed his hands, dried them, and decided forty-five minutes should hopefully clarify his point.

He did not rush, thumbs causally slipped into pants pockets as sure footsteps climbed the stairs and moved down the hall toward his office.

The lack of screaming told him she was furious being kept this long. Good. He was furious she had the audacity to barge her way inside at all.

He did not knock, as he did not need to announce himself, but he noticed how she jumped at the sound of the door opening. Saw how her pulse seemed to jackrabbit in her neck.

It was then that he grinned, one full of teeth and warning.

"Druella."

Dark eyes looked toward him, glaring as he meandered around his desk. "It's impolite to make a woman wait."

"It is impolite to barge into a man's home and demand an audience, and yet there you sit."

"I have important information, and you took your time -"

"I was involved in a more pressing situation that required my full attention. This was not a scheduled meeting, and I will not entertain the idea that you deserve any special treatment because you feel you have something important to tell me directly."

Druella was shaking - not from embarrassment, but from anger. "The port island was attacked. The one you share with the Hyenas. There's no footage, and everyone is scrambling to keep things protected."

That got his attention. A gray brow twitched before he moved to pull his phone free and send you a quick message.

Druella continued to speak without prompting.

» I need footage from the attack on Port Island D-192 . Bring it to my office.

« …I can just send it to you.

His lip twitched upward. He knows you would have checked the security footage by now and why you would prefer to hide away upstairs.

» I wasnt asking.

Bubbles appeared and then disappeared…repeatedly.

« Do you own a hoodie? A plain one.

» If I do it is in the back of my closet. Why?

Bubbles appeared and disappeared again.

« I'll be there in five.

"Sylus! Are you even paying attention?"

"Yes - you are claiming that someone took down the security of the whole island to steal from one particular storage container that you're currently having someone look into because they also cannot find the manifest. What I still don't understand is why you are here."

The woman scoffed, curled hair bouncing with the severity of it. "Both of our businesses are at stake! I am coming to work with you to figure out what happened and offer any services we can provide. "

She leaned forward then, in a pose that, to most, would have been flirtatiously revealing. It caused Sylus to sneer. "It's time to let the past go, Sy. We need to move forward. Together."

The nickname curdled something deep inside him. She did not get to call him that. There has only been one person he's ever allowed to call him Sy, and that person was currently peeking her head around the door.

Immediately something in him calmed, and he beckoned you forward with a hand.

When you stepped fully into the room, the moment seemed to stretch two very different directions.

Crimson eyes widened just a fraction. He did not remember buying that sweater - he didn't remember buying a lot of things - but there was no doubt who else's it could be. Jet black, with red stitching up the sleeves, the cuffs pushed to your elbows, and the fabric still fell down to your forearms, the bottom of the garment landing at the tops of your thighs.

Deep umber ones wishing they could burn you where you stood. Because the owners of those eyes remembered that particular gift that you had the audacity to wear in front of her.

"I got what you asked for," you said with a smile, lifting a tablet in your hand, as if it were only the two of you. Then you turned, feinted shock. "Oh, hello again."

One thousand paper cuts.

Although Sylus would argue this was more equivalent to a stab wound near a major artery. He approved.

Druella did not like this, but was smart enough to hold her tongue as you took Sylus' hand and was pulled forward onto his lap.

You did not flinch with the movement, and it partially settled the beast inside of him.

"Druella, you remember V."

It was taking every ounce of strength in the woman across from the two of you to remain calm, cool, and collected. "I do."

"V, here, is more than just a pretty face. She is gifted when it comes to technology. I already have her working through the footage to pull what others might have missed. She will relay the information to you once we have something worth noting."

Druella looked about two steps away from a full meltdown. A vein pulsed dangerously in her forehead, and her pupils seemed to shrink, making her eyes wild. Lips tight, she forced a nod. "I will also have my team analyze the footage, just in case. We can compare information when you're ready."

She stood then, stiffly, before turning and heading out of the room. There was no goodbye, but the tension seemed to follow her. And when it did, you nearly slumped into the man holding you close.

"What have you found?"

"The cameras were cut, but only on part of the island. The storage container was conveniently in a rather specific dead zone away from the others. I don't think this was an outside job. I have the system going frame by frame before the cameras cut to see if there's anything to show who, but nothing so far."

Sylus hummed in approval, even if this was not the information he was expecting to hear. An inside job would be messy to handle, given his current list of priorities. And the port island wasn't exactly close. It was also remote enough that a boat wouldn't be able to find it on most any map.

There was a leak somewhere that needed repairing, and quickly.

You moved to get up, but an arm around your waist held you firmly in place. "We aren't finished with our discussion from earlier."

A knot lodged itself in your throat. "Oh."

You tried to twist around, but found yourself held firmly in place. Stilled when you felt the weight of his head in your shoulder. "Have I … done something to make you feel unwanted?"

"No," but then a pain laugh escaped you, "but that's been half the problem."

The arm around you tightened. "Did…Ava say something?"

"Ava?" the name seemed to break the heaviness of the conversation. "What does Ava have to do with this?"

The way he nearly fell lax against you in relief only added to your confusion, but he still wouldn't let you twist toward him.

"Sylus -"

"If she approaches you, you tell her no."

"No? Wait - I thought they were allies, what I am disagreeing to -"

"It's because she is one and I know how she works I don't trust her. Just tell her no."

A synapsis fired off, causing you to still.

"Does this relate to why you were so grumpy at the brunch at the auction?"

A pause, but an answer in itself. "I was not grumpy."

"You were, though."

"I was not grumpy," he reiterated, releasing you now and giving you a small push forward. "Go pull the footage from the docs from the cameras for review."

"Wait - there's something else," you said, pulling up the tablet and flipping quickly through multiple screens. You left it on one of the outer cameras of the base, where two men seemed to be causally walking around.

Those two men paused as Durella exited the front, following her closely.

"They were circling the building the whole meeting. And not in a 'we're bored' walk. They were clocking the cameras - and terrible about hiding it, although they tried."

That deepened his frown, and you felt the lightest increase of pressure from the hand that had returned to your back when you pulled up the new footage.

The Hyenas and Onychinus were on amicable terms, but nothing was ever set in stone. A change of power could happen between one minute and the next, if one was efficient enough.

But Druella had stayed fairly quiet until now. She appeared enough to stay noticed, like a gnat caught in a room, but something seemed to have tipped at the auction. This island breech was a farce, but for what it was unclear.

What Sylus did know was that he promised you safety, and that was something he could guarantee as long as you were here at the base. So, when he responded, he leaned harder into that position, brushing off your worries with a sigh.

"They can look all they want, but that doesn't mean they'll be able to get in."

"Druella did -"

"Druella pushed her way past the door security most likely due to the fact she has been here before. I will clarify with that team moving forward she is not to be permitted, and that will be the end of it."

Even that didn't seem enough to convince you, as your teeth worried your lip. His thumb slipped up to pull on your chin enough to free it. "You have enough on your plate. I will handle this. You have footage to find and a fight to win. Get through those first."

Taking a breath, you nodded. Druella and her stunts were nothing new to him. If he says it'll be handled, it'll be handled. But for some odd reason, your mind filled with alarm bells.

The fight was the following night, and every nerve in your body was alive with energy. You had analyzed footage, organized files, and checked your gear at least three times in the hours leading up to it.

Currently, you found yourself in your room, tugging on your modified boots. Without your jacket, you felt naked, despite the long sleeves and pants that you donned. Too exposed.

All your fights before, the jacket helped conceal your shape, and the hood most of your face. It was safe. Reassuring, like a child with a blanket.

But now you were stripped bare…metaphorically. Just one more thing on the pile of other things that seemed to just keep coming at you.

There was a knock at the door, and when it didn't automatically open, you turned with surprise.

"Come in."

Hinges moved silently, and in the crack, two crow-masked faces peeked through, stacked on each other.

You tilted your head at them, unable to hide the grin. "Since when are the two of you nervous around me?"

"Special circumstances," Luke claimed as they opened the door wider to step through, moving oddly together.

Brow furrowed and mouth opening with a response, it closed again when a large box was shoved into your chest.

"Here," they said together.

Gently, you took the sleek black box in your hands, confusion evident on your face, and walked over to your bed to set it down and open it.

And when you did, your breath caught - throat tightening.

"We…overheard you talking about your jacket for the fight. And how it didn't really fit well anymore."

"So we got you a new one. And since we can't be there to support, we figured this still would let us be there with you."

The jacket itself was black, oversized and a zip up similar to what you normally wore. Except the zipper slanted across the chest, the piping of it and the hood all in a deep red.

The hood, you noticed, matched their own, with two red horns raising on either side, but while each only had one pierced, yours had both. An "08" had been embroidered into the side of it.

Twisting the hood around allowed you to notice something else on the back, which had you immediately clutching it close - only to abandon it completely to grab both of them by the neck and pull them close instead.

It was the design of a crow, mid-flight - the style looking like ink being dragged across the fabric - the outline of it highlighted by the red moon in the background, as well at its eye.

Luke and Kieran didn't know what to do first, being grabbed so suddenly, but they curled into you instinctively, hands and arms figuring out how to maneuver in such a small area.

"Thank you," was all you could get out, giving another squeeze. They reciprocated, and for a few moments you stayed that way before breaking apart.

You looked at the sweater again, touching the material before a thought crossed your mind.

"So…if you're 06, and you're 07, and I'm 08…who are 1-5?"

Both twins shrugged, and, in unison said, "We've always been too afraid to ask."

~.~

Druella flinched at the vibration of her phone signaling a call. A look to the driver in the mirror, and a dark divider rose between them before she answered.

"Well?"

No greeting - straight to business.

"She's here, your little pet," she confirmed, eyes watching the neon lights of the city slip past. "In a building guarded by the devil himself. Who, by the way, was not faking his adoration for her at the auction."

The last line came out bitter, but it was out before she thought to mask it with amusement.

The voice on the other end huffed.

"I don't often believe in second chances - especially after your screw up with those damn poison bugs. However, I prefer to have contingency plans if Vulpis is unsuccessful at the fight."

An unladylike snort came out of her mouth. "Your confidence in your own product is astounding."

"You forget that both of them are Ever's creations. Even if one little mouse thinks she can hide in the walls. Should you be needed, you better make it count. There will not be a third."

The line died, and a hand heavy with rings dropped it unceremoniously onto the seat beside her. She should had never convinced the Hyenas to take Caesar up on his offer all those months ago. They were quick to make sure it was her head on the chopping block, too.

If all went well, she would not be needed after tonight, and this deal would be done. She would have to move quick, but it wasn't like Druella was out of options. Oh, no.

Besides, should Ever get their little experiment back, someone would need comfort. And her seeking refuge? It would be perfect.

That little hacker bitch just needed to get what was coming to her.

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Created by @thechaoticarchivist . Do not repost. Comments and Reblogs are always welcome!

The Choices We Make Master List

[naomiarai]

you’re currently sitting on the floor of sylus’s pristine, incredibly expensive closet, wearing one of his giant black button up shirts like it’s a dress. you’re also wearing his heavy leather boots. they’re about five sizes too big.

you take a tentative, wobbly step forward, stomping loudly. STOMP. STOMP. you raise your arms like a huge robot. “fear me,” you announce to the empty room, “i am the leader of onychinus. give me all your gold...and dark secrets!”

“is that right?” you hear a low voice say.

you freeeze.

sylus is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watches you. he looks like he’s been standing there for a while. your face burns hot but you refuse to break character. you Puff out your chest, “yes, hand over the goods, civilian!”

sylus dosen’t move. he just looks down at your feet, then up to the shirt that swallows your frame. a slow, dangerous smirk spreads across his face but his ruby eyes are soft and melted.

“you lack...a certain menace,” his deep voice rumbles, thick with amusement.

“hey, i have tons of menace!” you say, taking a step forward to prove your point, but your foot slips right out of the boot. you lose your balance and yelp, tumbling forward.

before you can fall, heavy, warm weight catches you. sylus has scooped you up by the waist with one hand; he lifts you effortlessly, laughing a low gravelly chuckle that vibrates against you. he dosen’t put you down. instead, he simply carries you over to the plush armchair, sitting down and keeping you right on his lap.

“hey!” you protest, kicking your feet. now one of his giant boots falls off entirely. “put me down, sir. i’m a threat.” you say with a that coy smile.

“mhm, a terrifying one,” sylus murmurs, reaching up with his index finger to boop your nose. “you’re drowning in my clothes, sweetie.”

“it’s comfortable,” you pout, crossing your arms.

sylus smiles. “they look better on you anyway,” he says smoothly. he wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his clean scent enveloping you. he gives you a tight, playful squeeze that makes you gasp-laugh.

“sylus stop, it tickles!” you say, laughing, unable to stop.

“no,” he whispers against your skin, smirk widening as you squirm. “you invaded my closet. this is the penalty.”

[lumamaerose]

Secret Sanctuary.

Caleb x reader. (reader POV)

TW/CW: DDDNE! DeadDove! Kidnapping, car crash trauma, obsessive behavior, emotional abuse, gaslighting, physical restraint, death falsification, power imbalance, dark romance themes

Reader discretion is advised.

Prologue.

Rotten.

That was the first thing I thought when consciousness finally clawed its way back into me.

Rotten.

The smell invaded every breath — mold blooming inside damp concrete walls, rusted metal soaked with years of rainwater, something sour underneath it all that reminded me of old blood left too long in the heat. It coated the back of my throat until I gagged weakly, stomach twisting hard enough to hurt.

My tongue tasted copper.

Blood.

I swallowed and immediately regretted it. My throat burned raw, scraped open from screaming. Or crying. Maybe both. I couldn’t remember. My memories came in flashes — shattered glass glittering like diamonds, the violent spin of metal, headlights smearing across darkness, pain exploding through my ribs.

Then nothing.

A pounding ache pulsed behind my eyes. Every heartbeat drove a nail deeper into my skull.

Somewhere far away, muffled by thick walls and distance, the city breathed. Sirens wailed faintly. Tires hissed over wet pavement. A train horn groaned low and mournful in the distance. Civilization existed somewhere beyond this place.

Far away from me.

I tried to move.

Cold metal bit into my wrists.

The sharp clink of chains echoed through the room.

My breath caught.

My hands were cuffed above me to an old radiator hanging crookedly from the wall, its chipped paint peeling away in pale flakes. The metal was freezing against my skin. I could feel rust digging into the cuts around my wrists every time I shifted.

Panic hit all at once.

I jerked hard against the restraints, the sudden movement sending agony screaming through my body. My shoulder burned. My ribs ached. My knees scraped against concrete wet with condensation.

“Fuck—”

My voice barely came out.

The room around me slowly sharpened through the haze. A single dim bulb swung overhead, flickering weakly, throwing long shadows across cracked cement walls. Water dripped somewhere steadily. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The air was damp enough to taste.

Then—

Footsteps.

Heavy.

Slow.

Measured.

Boots against pavement.

My entire body went rigid.

The sound echoed closer from somewhere beyond the darkness until a figure finally emerged from the shadows like he’d been carved directly from them.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

Black military coat fitted perfectly against his frame, silver buttons glinting beneath the weak light. White uniform pants spotless despite the filth surrounding us. Polished boots. Dark gloves. Medals pinned neatly across his chest.

Fleet Colonel Caleb.

Even here, he looked immaculate.

Untouchable.

My stomach twisted violently.

“Caleb,” I croaked.

Saying his name hurt.

His face remained unreadable as he approached, sharp features half-hidden beneath the dim light. Beautiful in the kind of way that made people lower their voices around him. Controlled. Precise.

Terrifying.

I couldn’t remember everything.

Only fragments.

His hands grabbing me.

My own screaming.

The sound of the crash.

The unbearable feeling of falling.

“Let me go.” My voice cracked apart halfway through the sentence.

He stopped a few feet away.

For a moment, he just looked at me.

Not shocked.

Not angry.

Almost thoughtful.

Then he spoke.

“You died.”

The words landed softly.

Carefully.

Like something rehearsed.

I blinked at him, breathing uneven. “What?”

“You died,” he repeated, calm and steady.

My pulse began hammering harder.

“That crash.” His gloved hands adjusted the cuffs at his wrists with meticulous precision. “I made sure people believed you didn’t survive.”

The room suddenly felt colder.

“What are you talking about…?”

“They’re mourning you right now.”

My chest tightened so hard it hurt.

No.

No.

Caleb stepped closer, and the scent of him cut through the rot surrounding us — expensive cologne layered over gunpowder and cold winter air. Clean. Sharp. Familiar enough to make nausea rise inside me.

“You should hear the things they’re saying about you,” he murmured. “Memorials. Flowers. Speeches.” His mouth twitched slightly, not quite a smile. “Funny how people only become precious once they’re gone.”

I stared at him.

My breathing turned ragged.

“You’re insane.”

Maybe I meant to sound angry.

It came out frightened instead.

His eyes softened at that.

Which somehow terrified me more.

Caleb crouched slowly in front of me, the leather of his gloves creaking quietly as he reached up and brushed damp hair away from my face.

I flinched hard.

His expression darkened almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.

The gentleness in his voice made my skin crawl.

“You kidnapped me,” I whispered.

“No.” His thumb traced lightly along my jaw. “I saved you.”

The bulb overhead flickered again.

Shadows moved across his face, carving him into something monstrous and beautiful all at once.

“You were slipping away from me, Pips.”

My nickname in his mouth felt wrong now.

Possessive.

Obsessive.

Like chains tightening around my throat.

“I couldn’t allow that.”

My eyes burned suddenly. “People think I’m dead…”

“They are supposed to.”

His answer came instantly.

Certain.

Planned.

I pulled against the cuffs again, panic rising so fast I could barely breathe. The metal rattled violently against the radiator.

“Caleb, please—”

“You’re safe here.”

“I don’t want to be here!”

His hand suddenly closed around my jaw.

Firm.

Not enough to hurt.

Enough to remind me he could.

The room fell silent except for my uneven breathing.

Caleb leaned closer until I could feel the warmth of him against the freezing air.

“You don’t understand yet,” he said softly. “Out there, they took pieces of you until there was almost nothing left.” His eyes searched mine with unsettling intensity. “I’m the only one who’s ever truly protected you.”

A tear finally slipped down my cheek.

His gaze followed it immediately.

Something possessive flickered across his face.

Then, incredibly gently, he wiped it away with his thumb.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

The chains around my wrists felt heavier.

“I always do.”

[aries-is-thinking]

The LADS boys nervous about proposing based on the responses from this post:

Xavier:

Zayne:

Rafayel:

Sylus:

Caleb:

[lunamaedotjpeg]

Caleb and MC.

[emulynnn]

Blushy Sylus ♡ such a cutie My mii and Sylus got married in Tomodachi Life after three days. I'm so glad they were besties first tho 😭🙏

[dragondelulu]

Relentless Conqueror

Synopsis: Sylus had stepped into your world and now you learn first hand why his standard Myth companion is called Relentless Conqueror. Characters: Sylus x Non-MC!reader Warnings: fluff. Lonnggg. A/N: Hahaha. Synopsis is weeeird. Also also probably inaccurate description of whatever Sylus was doing to build back his power. And yes, I used the name of his standard myth companion, shoot me~

You thought you were going insane. Completely and utterly insane. There was no other explanation for why you kept seeing him. Someone who should not have been there. Someone who could not have been there.

You were sitting in the corner of your favorite café, with your back turned toward the rest of the room. On the surface, it probably looked like you were simply fixing your hair or checking something on your face. In reality, you were doing something far more ridiculous. You had a pocket mirror angled just enough to catch the reflection of the man sitting a few tables behind you.

And oh, you knew that man.

You knew the lazy tap of his fingers against the tabletop. That infuriatingly composed posture. That shirt with the feather pattern and the jacket draped over his shoulders like wings. The silver-white hair, unruly and impossible, and those crimson eyes that had ruined your ability to think straight far too many times for someone who did not technically exist in your world.

Sylus Qin.

In the flesh.

Somewhere he absolutely should not have been.

Your first guess was that he had to be a cosplayer. That was the only reasonable explanation. A very convincing cosplayer, admittedly, but still. Except there was no event in the city. No convention. No staged shoot. No photographer lurking nearby. And this small, ordinary café was a completely absurd place for a photoshoot for a man like Sylus anyway. Besides, cosplayers wore masks. For health reasons, but also because people could be cruel. Because strangers did not always know where fantasy ended and reality began.

No.

That man behind you did not look like a cosplayer. He looked exactly like Sylus. You caught his reflection shifting. His gaze had lifted. He was looking right at you now. Your breath caught, and you snapped the mirror shut so quickly your fingers nearly slipped.

Think.

You needed proof. You grabbed your phone, unlocked it with trembling hands, and opened the game. The loading screen appeared. You almost laughed at yourself for how ridiculous this was, but then the game music burst out too loudly and you had to fumble to turn the sound off before anyone noticed. When the main screen loaded, you were expecting to see him there. In some ridiculous outfit, maybe. Probably sporting that awful scarf from one of the promises, that you actually regretted buying now. That same maddening expression he wore as if even in game he knew something you didn’t.

But the screen was empty.

You frowned and checked the settings. He was selected. You exited and reopened the game. Still nothing. Then you went through the other Love and Deepspace men, one by one. They all appeared exactly where they were supposed to.

You returned to Sylus.

Nothing.

Just the café background. Blank. Empty. Wrong.

Your pulse began to race. This did not make sense. None of this made sense. You started a game repair with shaking fingers, as if that would somehow help. It did not. When the screen finished loading again, the spot where Sylus should have been was still empty.

Your stomach dropped.

This was impossible.

This was…

“Looking for someone?”

You jolted so hard your shoulder hit the back of the chair. Your head snapped to the sound of his voice. And there he was.

Sylus sat down across from you like he had every right to be there, like he had merely stepped over a line no one else could see. His crimson eyes rested on you with that same amused, knowing look that had made your brain short-circuit a hundred times before.

You stared at him.

Then at your phone.

Then back at him.

His gaze flicked to the screen, and your face went hot enough to set the café on fire. You shoved the phone face-down onto the table and locked it.

You wanted to ask how he had gotten here.

You wanted to ask if you were hallucinating.

You wanted to ask if this was real.

But the words would not come.

Sylus tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Not going to ask anything?” he said.

You swallowed hard.

“This…” Your voice came out small. Frayed. “This isn’t real.”

His brow lifted. “Is that so?”

“I probably ate something strange,” you muttered, staring at your own hands now because it felt safer than looking at him. “This is probably some kind of stress-induced hallucination.”

Then you felt it. Warm fingers covering your hand. Solid. Real. You sucked in a sharp breath. Sylus’s hand was larger than yours, warm and steady and undeniably there. His thumb brushed once over your knuckles, and the sensation sent a shock of awareness through you.

“Does this feel like an illusion to you?” he asked quietly.

You shut your eyes for a second and shook your head. Your heart thudded painfully.

“How…” You swallowed. “How are you here?”

Sylus leaned back slightly, though he did not remove his hand.

“For a dragon,” he said, “sensing abnormalities in a world is not particularly difficult.”

You blinked at him.

“What does that mean?”

His expression shifted, becoming more serious.

“At first, it was subtle. I started hearing things.” His gaze remained on yours. “Voices. People talking to me. About me.”

You stared.

“Voices?”

He nodded once.

“At first, they were fragmented. Hard to understand. But the more I listened, the clearer it became.” His thumb stroked slowly over your knuckles. “There was a collective desire behind them. Not one voice, but many. A pull.”

Your breath caught. He glanced down at your phone, then back at you.

“The players.”

The word landed heavily between you.

Sylus continued, calm and matter-of-fact in that way he had when explaining something extraordinary as if it were completely ordinary.

“The concentration of so many thoughts, so much attention directed toward me… So much desire… it created pressure. Enough to reveal weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses?” you murmured before you could stop yourself.

He looked at you a moment longer, and the expression on his face made your chest tighten.

“Cracks between worlds,” he said. “Small ones. Unstable, but usable if you know where to look. I slipped through.”

You stared at him. Your fingers curled slightly beneath his. You suddenly became aware of how quiet the café had gone for you. The espresso machine hissed in the background. Cups clinked. Somebody laughed near the counter. Life went on around you as if you were not sitting across from a man who had stepped out of a game and into your reality. Then the thought hit you so hard it nearly made you dizzy.

“Why me?” you asked.

Sylus said nothing. That made the ache in your chest worse. You gave a small, helpless laugh that did not sound like laughter at all.

“I mean… if this is really possible… if you really crossed over because of all of that… then why did you come to me? There are so many other players.” Your throat tightened. “So many people who probably know more, or are prettier, or have better reactions, or have spent more money, or have loved you longer…”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. You were spiraling now, and you knew it. But you could not stop yourself.

“Why me?” you whispered again, quieter this time. “I’m just one player.”

Sylus went very still. Then, very gently, he took your other hand too.

The gesture was careful.

Deliberate.

Like he was grounding you before you floated too far away from him.

“Sweetie,” he said, and there was something far softer in his voice now, “you are not just one player.”

Your breath caught. You looked at him, and he held your gaze without flinching.

 “You asked questions. You looked at me as though I existed even when I was only a collection of data on a screen.” His eyes softened, just slightly. “That matters.”

You stared at him, stunned. And then the insecurity came rushing back, because of course it did. Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“But there are other players who care more.”

Sylus’s brow furrowed.

“More?”

You looked down. “There are people who know every detail about you. People who have played longer, spent more, made more art, written more, loved you harder. I’m just…” You swallowed. “I’m just me.”

The words felt stupid the second they left your mouth, but they had already escaped. For a moment, Sylus only looked at you. Then he exhaled slowly.

“I do not measure value by how loud someone is,” he said.

You blinked. He squeezed your hands once, briefly.

“Nor by how many times they repeat my name into the void.”

That almost made you laugh. Almost.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered.

“And yet, you are still here.”

You glanced up at him. The amused softness in his face had not changed, but something deeper lay under it now. Something steady. Certain.

“I heard many voices,” he said, quieter. “Many desires. But yours was the one I could follow.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you like the answer had always been obvious.

“Because you didn’t look at me like a fantasy to be consumed,” he said. “You looked at me like I was real long before I ever became real to you.”

You forgot how to breathe for a second. You looked down at your hands, still in his, and suddenly you felt too warm, too aware, too small in the face of something huge and impossible and entirely real.

“That’s unfair,” you murmured.

“What is?”

“You say things like that and expect me not to freak out.”

His eyes crinkled faintly. “I am not expecting anything.”

That, somehow, was worse. You let out a shaky breath. Across from you, Sylus continued to hold your hands like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had not crossed between realities to sit in a café with you.

It made your chest hurt in a completely different way. Because if he had chosen you…Then he had seen something in you.

Something the others had not.

Something you were not sure you could even see in yourself.

“You really mean it?” you asked quietly.

Sylus’s expression softened.

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

No teasing.

No games.

You stared at him for another long moment, then looked away again because your eyes were beginning to sting and you absolutely refused to cry in a café over a fictional dragon.

Not fictional, your traitorous brain reminded you. Real. Very, very real.

Sylus seemed to understand the direction of your thoughts without you saying a word.

“You are overthinking,” he said.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You glared at him, and this time he actually looked pleased with himself. That familiar amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, grounding you just enough to breathe again.

Then he stood.

The movement startled you.

Your head shot up. “What are you doing?”

He glanced at the untouched cup beside your hand, then back at you.

“Leaving before you decide to vanish into that spiral of yours,” he said. “Unless you would prefer to stay here and continue interrogating me.”

You blinked up at him.

“You say that like I have a choice.”

His mouth quirked.

“You do.”

That single answer made your chest ache all over again. You looked at his hand still resting lightly over yours.

Then at his face.

Then back down.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you,” you admitted.

Sylus’s smile widened just a little.

“That makes two of us.”

He reached for your hand and lifted it from the table, brushing his thumb over your knuckles before letting go.

“Come on,” he said.

You stared at him. “Come where?”

His red eyes gleamed.

“Anywhere you want.”

And after everything, after the disbelief, the fear, the insecurity, the impossible reality of him sitting across from you… you found yourself standing too. Because maybe you were still scared. Maybe you still did not understand why he had chosen you over anyone else.

But Sylus was here.

And for the moment, that was enough.

The first thing Sylus did after stepping into your apartment was look around as if he were assessing a hostile territory.

The second thing he did was ask, very calmly, “How does one acquire money in this world?”

You choked on your own air.

He stood in the middle of your living room like he had somehow already decided this was now his domain, red eyes sweeping over your tiny apartment with cool, exacting focus. He had taken the answer to “you can stay here for now” with alarming seriousness. Not even an hour had passed, and he already looked less like a man displaced from one world and more like someone preparing to conquer another one from the ground up.

You stared at him.

“You could start with a job,” you said carefully.

Sylus’s brows lifted a fraction.

“A job,” he repeated, as if the word itself were mildly insulting.

“Yes. Employment. Welcome to Earth.”

He looked at you for a moment, then gave a thoughtful hum.

“How much money does this world consider acceptable?”

You blinked.

“That depends on a lot of things.”

“And how quickly can I acquire enough of it to be useful?”

There it was. That familiar tone. You had heard it before in the game when he was planning, maneuvering, deciding. The same cold efficiency. The same absolute refusal to accept helplessness. Only now he had no power, no money,  no network of loyal people waiting at his call.

You should have found that amusing. Instead, a strange little warmth curled in your chest. Because he looked offended by the very concept of starting from nothing. And Sylus Qin, apparently, did not intend to stay at nothing for long.

He adapted too quickly.

That was the first alarming thing you learned. The second was that his version of “adapting” did not involve slowly learning how to survive like a normal person.

No.

He treated your world the way he treated everything else: as a system to be understood, mapped, and eventually mastered. Within the first day, he was already analyzing local business trends with unsettling speed. He read everything. Job listings, investment articles, corporate structures, property values, tax laws.

You found him at three in the morning, sitting at your kitchen table in silence, one of your spare laptops open in front of him while he read through financial articles.

You stopped in the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t even look up.

“Learning.”

“Learning what?”

“How this world works.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You’ve been awake for four hours.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not even blinking enough.”

He lifted his gaze then, one brow arched.

“Do you need me to be less efficient?”

You made a face.

“No, but I do need you to sleep.”

“I will. During the day. I thought you knew I’m nocturnal.”

You stared. Then groaned and went to make tea. Because somehow, despite everything, he still looked unfairly good sitting at your kitchen table while dismantling modern society one website at a time.

By the end of the second week, your apartment felt like the beginning of something.

He had folders stacked neatly on your table, notes organized by color, a second laptop of his own already ordered and somehow delivered with suspicious speed. He knew the transit routes in your city. He had memorized the names of half the relevant companies. He had probably already identified three people who could be turned into allies, two who could be pressured, and one who would likely become a problem later.

You should have been alarmed. Instead, you found yourself watching him from the kitchen doorway with a coffee mug in both hands, a little helpless and a little in awe.

He looked up.

“You’ve been staring.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No.”

You smiled faintly.

“Do you ever slow down?”

Sylus’s expression softened at that.

“Not when I have a reason not to.”

You went quiet.

Because you knew what he meant.

You.

You were the reason.

And now Sylus was already making himself into something larger. Because he was determined to make a place for himself here, in your world. And because, as always, he had decided that if he was going to love you…

Then he would do it properly.

The shift wasn’t obvious at first.

It didn’t happen in one dramatic moment where everything suddenly clicked into place.

It started with names.

At first, Sylus mentioned them casually over breakfast, while scrolling through his phone, or when you passed by him in the apartment.

“This one is useful.”

“That one is predictable.”

“He’ll fold under pressure within a month.”

You had assumed he was still studying people. You didn’t realize he had already started moving pieces. His phone rang more often. Short calls. Precise conversations. Meetings that he didn’t even bother to explain to you anymore. He started leaving the apartment more and coming back later with that look in his eyes, the one he had after a successful move. Satisfied. Focused.

Then came the news.

You weren’t even looking for it. It just… showed up. A headline on your phone. Something about a shift in ownership. A company restructuring. New investors entering the field.

You wouldn’t have paid attention. Except the name.

Qin.

Your heart skipped. You opened the article. Read it once. Then again. Then a third time, slower.

There it was. Buried in the details. A newly established entity. Minimal public information. Rapid acquisition of influence. And at the center of it him. You swallowed.

“No way…”

You found him at home that evening.

Calm as ever. Like he hadn’t just quietly inserted himself into your world’s power structure. You stared at him. Really stared this time.

This wasn’t just adaptation anymore. This wasn’t just him trying to get by. He was building something. Faster than should be possible.

And the worst part?

It didn’t look like luck.

It didn’t look like coincidence.

It looked like control.

Like he had done this before.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re going to take over everything, aren’t you?” you asked quietly.

Sylus’s gaze softened slightly at your tone.

“Not take over.”

You waited. He tilted his head just a fraction.

“Establish myself.”

“That sounds like the same thing.”

“It isn’t.”

You let out a breath.

“It feels like it.”

Silence stretched between you. Then you stepped closer.

“Sylus.”

He looked at you immediately. You swallowed.

“You just got here.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have anything here.”

“That’s temporary.”

“That’s my point,” you said, voice tightening slightly. “You’re acting like you’ve been here your whole life. Like this is just another game to win, another world to conquer.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

 “I don’t lose,” he said simply.

You exhaled shakily.

“I know.”

And that was the problem.

You looked down at your hands.

“You’re moving too fast.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I am moving at the speed required.”

You shook your head.

“You don’t even know if this world will let you…”

“It will.”

You looked up at him.

And froze.

Because he wasn’t guessing. He wasn’t hoping.

He knew.

Sylus stepped closer. His hand lifted, brushing lightly against your cheek.

“You’re worried,” he said.

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Why?”

You let out a small, helpless laugh.

“Because this is insane! Because you’re doing things people take years to do in weeks. Because I don’t even understand half of what you’re doing anymore. Because…”

Your voice caught.

“Because I don’t know where I fit into all of this.”

That made him pause. Really pause. His hand stilled against your cheek.

And for the first time since all of this started he looked not like a strategist. Not like someone calculating his next move. But like himself.

“You,” he said quietly, “are the reason I am doing any of this.”

Your breath hitched.

 “Do you think I crossed worlds for power?” he asked softly.

You didn’t answer.

He huffed, almost amused.

“I had that already.”

His thumb brushed lightly under your eye.

“I am rebuilding it,” he continued, “because this world does not give me the means to take care of you the way I intend to.”

Your heart twisted.

“Sylus…”

“And I will not accept that.”

Silence.

“You’re terrifying, you know that?”

A faint smirk returned.

“I’ve been told.”

You shook your head, but your hand found his anyway.

“Just don’t forget to live here too,” you murmured. “Not just conquer it.”

Something in his expression softened again.

 “I won’t,” he said.

Then, quieter:

“Not when you’re here.” And after a small pause he added as the familiar red mist gathered around him. “Now, what do you say to having three more guests here?”

@mrsqins @moonlightindeepspace @dandy-lads @quill-for-glory @satansdaughter123 @chubbymochi123 @animegamerfox @sylus-kittenpaw @mitsukichiis @thehyperfixationgirly i think i tagged everyone...

[lvl1l1]

Sylus has always been a patient man.

But nothing tests that patience quite like you.

The first time you leaned in and kissed him, he felt like the entire world could burn down around him and he wouldn’t care. Since then, making out with you has become his favorite addiction. The way you melt into him, the little sounds you make when he licks into your mouth, how you grip his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear,he can’t get enough.

Tonight is no different.

You’re straddling his lap on the couch in his private lounge, hands tangled in his silver hair while he kisses you deep and slow. His hands slide up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulls you closer. A low groan rumbles in his chest when you rock against him, unconsciously grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants.

“Fuck, kitten…” he murmurs against your lips, voice already rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You whimper softly, kissing him harder, and for a moment it feels like you might finally be ready. His hands slip under your shirt, palms warm against your bare waist, thumbs stroking just beneath your ribs. He’s so hard it’s aching, straining painfully against his zipper, but he doesn’t rush you. He just keeps kissing you like he could do this forever.

Then you pull back suddenly, breathing heavily, eyes a little wide.

“Sylus… wait. I’m sorry, I-” You bite your lip, looking guilty.

He stills immediately.

His hands slide out from under your shirt and settle respectfully on your hips instead. Even though his cock is throbbing angrily between you, begging for friction, his expression softens.

“Hey,” he says gently, voice low and calm. “Don’t apologise. You never have to be sorry for that.”

You look down, cheeks flushed. “But you’re… I can feel how hard you are. I keep getting you worked up and then stopping-“

Sylus cuts you off by tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. That usual smugness is gone, replaced by something warmer and tender.

“I don’t care if I stay hard for the rest of the night,” he says simply. “Or all week. Or all month. We go at your pace. Always.”

He leans in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, much softer this time.

“You letting me kiss you like this already feels like winning the lottery, sweetie,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I can wait. As long as you need.”

Even as he says it, his cock twitches hard between your thighs, still painfully trapped and aching. He ignores it completely, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest instead.

You bury your face in his neck, relaxing into him. “You’re too good to me.”

Sylus lets out a quiet chuckle, though it sounds a little strained.

“Trust me, I’m not a saint. Right now I’m thinking about a lot of very filthy things I want to do to you,” he admits, voice dropping into a purr. “But I’d rather have you comfortable and happy than rush anything. This-” He squeezes your waist gently. “-is more than enough.”

You stay like that for a long time, you curled up on his lap, his arms securely around you while he presses occasional kisses to your hair and temple.

Later, after you’ve fallen asleep against his chest, Sylus finally lets out a slow, controlled breath.

He’s painfully hard, balls aching, cock leaking into his boxers… but he just holds you tighter, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

Because even if it means blue balling himself every single time you make out, you’re worth every second of it.

His kitten is safe, comfortable, and slowly opening up to him

[napforalifetime]

I should draw Luke and Kieran more and actually settle how i want to draw them in my style/headcannon without their masks…

[myearts-uwu]

Over the shoulder

I needed to draw this to get out of my system the moment I saw Sylus carrying MC in the kindled. I loveeee a good over the shoulder carry.

I decided to draw my oc in xaviermc's outfit because 1. I bought this outfit for her already, and 2. Yellow is simply her colour.

[lunamaedotjpeg]

@napforalifetime and my AU to Onychinus saga.

Left: Iza, their OC, right: Rosielle / Rosie (my OC)

[quiet-murmurs]

I will play the devil’s advocate here and say aside from their hair, they don’t look alike at all. While both have sharp features, Sylus’s face carries a certain softness that Alarik entirely lacks. Alarik has an icy edge, whereas Sylus appears warm. Perhaps it’s my keen eye for details, but I find very little similarities between them.

Have I mentioned that Alarik comes across as outright arrogant, unlike Sylus who seems to adopt a non-chalant facade? I’m curious to see how his character develops as the story unfolds.

[Left: Sylus from “Love And Deepspace”]

[Right: Alarik from “Silent Whispers”]

“He is a budget version of Sylus.”

And the man they are referring to dislikes the dark. He would not like the N109 Zone. He seems to enjoy cooking, whereas Sylus cannot cook to save his life. Unless it is a gourmet dish with precise instructions.

Yes, my oshi is Sylus.

Some folks clearly haven’t engaged with Otome games prior to ‘Love And Deepspace’, and it shows. Silver-haired characters with bold personalities are a well-established archetype in Eastern media. If you do not have anything nice to say, perhaps it might be best to say nothing at all.

[If this piques your interest, do feel free to explore my ‘Love And Deepspace’ blog “Crimson Soul”.]