Just popping here to say something because I’ve heard of some drama lately.
The ACOTAR FANDOM was never safe and it turned into this whole toxic place where NO ONE and i mean NO ONE was safe from harassment, bullying, racism or doxxing of any kind. It got even more intense after ACOSF came out (talking from experience because i was there).
I’ve been in so many fandoms but ACOTAR literally ruined my enjoyment of these books or of any SJM’s books. Thanks to the constant harassment & bullying, I didn’t feel safe to give my opinions on Twitter, Tumblr or even Instagram. I left this sick fandom for good. If it was in any way safe, I would’ve stayed. If it wasn’t detrimental to my mental health to the point THAT I WAS STRUGGLING AT SCHOOL, I would’ve stayed. No matter which social you’re on, fans are everywhere and will come at you if they don’t agree with your opinions (no matter who they fucking ship). All ships have extreme fans and I’ve seen it. I left this fandom because it was tiring and harmful. I couldn’t even enjoy reading but I’m so GLAD I left.
I feel so much better now. I’ve discovered so many great things and fandoms (more anime YAY). I’m concentrating on consuming media (tv shows, movies, books) that genuinely bring me so much joy.
If you want to stay in this fandom, good for you. You’re strong but the lasting effects of being in this twisted place will start taking a hold on you and I strongly advise any of you to take care of YOU first. Faery porn do not matter and will never matter over the well-being of real people behind the screens.
‼️just a disclaimer‼️ i’m not forcing anyone to believe every article i translate here !!
i translate what looks like the truth. to believe it or not is your right :)
from the author ‼️
switching to silent whispers is pure hypocrisy and directly supports those who are trying to destroy lads.
why and how the developers of silent whispers are linked to the valko scandal.
i’ve gathered all the interesting and crucial information regarding tencent.
this is a massive post with a lot of text, but i strictly ask you to boost and share this.
tencent is the largest gaming corporation in the world, regularly involved in high-profile lawsuits over plagiarism, illegal copying, and copyright infringement. the company appears in court both as an aggressive plaintiff defending its franchises, and as a defendant accused of stealing other people's ideas.it’s important to understand: tencent is a giant with immense power, media connections, and the best lawyers in the industry.
the valko scandal: it’s their doingbuying bots, bribing media and bloggers, etc., creating a million fake issues with valko just for the cloutlads makes colossal amounts of money, taking the lion's share of profits from other market giants (including tencent and netease projects).
to shake the leader's position, competitors often use 'water armies'.
the concept of 'water army' and 'business black pr' (heishui)
what it is: in the prc, there are legal marketing agencies that unofficially provide heishui (黑水 — 'black water') services. they manage millions of automated and semi-automated accounts".
tencent or its related entities don’t write hate comments themselves. they hire an agency, give them a brief with key triggers (for example: 'link the character to unit 731', 'promote the topic of domestic violence') and pay to push these tags into the trends of the weibo social network
fanning the flame: the actual dissatisfaction of a small group of radical fans (who simply didn't like the new character) is artificially picked up by thousands of bots.
generating crazy accusations: bot employers use the tactic of spamming absurd 'political' allegations (like what happened with the fabricated hints about unit 731). bots start mass-duplicating these tags into weibo trends, creating the illusion that 'all of china is furious'.
the goal — management panic: the calculation is that gaming companies have very strict reputation kpis, and under the pressure of an artificial 'million reasons', their nerves will crackwhich is exactly what happened: on this wave, infold cancelled valko's releasethe strong accusations were precisely the political topics, and that became the main reason for the sudden cancellationnext will be a summary of lawsuits and competition between infold and archosaur games (tencent).
nfold games filed a lawsuit against archosaur games accusing them of trademark infringement and unfair competition.
the reason for the conflict: infold accused archosaur of plagiarism and illegal use of keywords and elements from its franchises (shining nikki, love and deepspace) to promote the competitor's projects. it was noticed that the creators of silent whispers copied visual elements, fonts, and the interface positioning of games from infold.
tencent's role in the lawsuit: tencent corporation is involved in the case as a third party. this is because the unfair advertising was distributed through its marketing platforms, and tencent itself owns a large share of stocks in archosaur games.the process has dragged on due to legal tricks from archosaur. the defendant (archosaur) filed an objection against the court's jurisdiction, which caused the first hearing to be dismissed, and the process is being artificially delayed. meanwhile, in early 2025, infold already won a similar lawsuit against archosaur regarding their game life makeover, creating a strong legal precedent in favor of the creators of love and deepspace.
regarding sylus's carbon copy and the so-called lawsuit that infold 'won' this year: on the wave of that victory, infold's legal department immediately started the process of documenting violations concerning silent whispers and the character alaric. in china, intellectual property law is complicated: proving plagiarism of a character's appearance and concept before the game's release is legally difficult, so infold is striking from the front of unfair competition and trademarks (the use of love and deepspace and sylus tags in archosaur's hidden advertising.
the outcome: infold won the lawsuit against archosaur over unfair competition, which heavily damaged the opponents' reputation. but the 'sylus cloning' itself in may 2026 caused a new wave of legal claims and a severe public boycott of archosaur by players, forcing the creators of silent whispers to make excuses to the audience.
next will be a summary of tencent's major lawsuits with other games and the final result ⬇️
1. tencent vs moonton (mobile legends) — tencent won (awarded $2.9 million in compensation).
2. tencent vs netease (rules of survival / knives out) — ended in a settlement (netease modified the games).
3. sony vs tencent (light of motiram) — ended in a settlement (tencent completely removed and cancelled its game).
4. nexon vs tencent (qq tang) — tencent won (the chinese court dismissed the korean company's lawsuit).
1. infold games vs archosaur games (with tencent involved as a third party) — infold games won (the court recognized unfair competition on archosaur's part).
2. tencent vs netease (honor of kings vs onmyoji) — ended in mutual lawsuits and closed out-of-court settlements.
3. tencent vs map creators in eggy party — netease / the map authors won (tencent paid hidden compensations for copying locations).
4. pubg corp. / tencent vs netease — ended in a settlement agreement after years of litigation in the us.
with this whole valko scandal topic, here is what infold has in its favor:
- shanghai officially sided with infold because they bring in unreal amounts of taxes.
- tencent didn't expect this kind of reaction from the global fandom. they were sure everything would die down quickly and infold would cancel it fast.
and all the noise happening right now is literally the salvation of lads and infold. we, the fandom, are acting as infold's shield.
that's why the police and infold's department are so deeply involved with each other right now. it was never about the haters, it was paid bots from the very start and a brutal war.
financial blow: infold's love and deepspace revolutionized the market, becoming the highest-grossing 3d otome game in the world and taking billions of yuan out of tencent's pocket.
tencent's failure: revenues of tencent's own mobile projects for the female audience (such as light and night) began to drop rapidly. tencent's attempts to create new games or promote projects of friendly studios (like archosaur) failed. destroying valko is an attempt to disrupt infold's most crucial update and stop their market dominance.
that's exactly why switching to silent whispers and supporting this game is pure hypocrisy. you are supporting the aggressor with your own hands. this is exactly what tencent bought tons of bots for. those who leave for that game, thinking they are escaping toxicity, are actually sponsoring the very people who created that toxicity to destroy love and deepspace.
also from the author:
let me clear something up. first of all, i’m not defending infold. lads has plenty of problems, i’ve never denied that and i’ve always talked about it. but what we’re dealing with here is specifically a cyberattack. my video post is not fake, it’s just simple analytics of everything going on right now and what happened before. media manipulation, coordinated harassment from bloggers, botting views and inflating pre-registrations — all of this is already obvious. read my replies in the comments, there are way more proofs with numbers and facts. trying to justify sw while closing your eyes to plagiarism is just pure denial of reality. honestly, i don't really care whether you play sw or not. as someone connected to art and gaming, i will always protect copyrights. plagiarism is absolutely always bad, and it can never be justified. i can't force you not to play. my job is to deliver the core message and the facts that have already been proven. your job is to accept it or just pass by.
And that's the part that's making me lose my fucking mind.
We lost an entire section of the MAIN STORY.
The livestream literally told us Valko's release was going to reveal more about the Aethercore—one of the biggest mysteries in Love and Deepspace and something that's been central to the plot from the very beginning.
So now what?
You think they can just delete him and nothing changes?
Do people genuinely think you can rip out an entire story arc without consequences?
Everything that was supposed to be revealed through Valko now has to be rewritten, redistributed, or outright cut. The main story is going to have to be retconned. Future updates are going to have to be reworked. Characters may have to be rewritten just to fill the gap he leaves.
If you're celebrating this because you "won," I sincerely hope you understand what you've actually cheered for.
synopsis: your fear should make valko hungry. instead, it slips beneath his skin, and under the moon's pale witness, the wolf remembers your hand, your blood, your command.
cw/tw: valko x reader. wolf/lamb symbolism, blood, implied violence, possessive behaviour, mild body horror.
a/n: here's my little contribution. this took me the entire day to write, and i am currently in a committed love-hate relationship with is, so please be kind. since we know so little about him, i wanted to explore the unknown a little. the wolf, the lamb, the hunger, the devotion. all the deliciously terrible things.
Fear always had a scent.
Most people wore it poorly. It soured them, made them loud, foolish, eager to bare their little human teeth at creatures who had been killing long before they learned how to pray. Yours was different. Soft as milk, warm as wool. A trembling little thing that did not run, though everything in your body had already begun its flight.
Little lamb, something in him thought. The name should have amused him. Instead, it entered his chest like a blade.
Across the hall, men spoke of acquisitions, mergers, bloodless victories. Women laughed with their wine-dark mouths. Above them all, the moon hung in the windows with its pale, accusing face, and Valko felt the beast within him lift its head.
For a moment, nothing in him belonged to the room.
The suit became a borrowed skin, the cufflinks, a joke, the expensive watch around his wrist ticked with the patience of a trap. Beneath it all lived the older body, the one made of hunger and moonlight. The one that rememered forests, open throats, the sacred panic of running prey.
Then you looked at him.
Not for long.
Only enough.
Your eyes found his across all that wealth and light, and some wretched part of him, some starving creature, went still.
How strange, to be made monstrous and discover reverence in the same breath.
He had imagined many things for his life. Power came easily, violence even easier. Obedience could be bought, fear cultivated, loyalty bred in dark rooms by darker hands. Love had always seemed like a story humans told each other so the knife would look prettier going in.
Yet there you stood.
Soft throat, steady eyes, hands folded before you as if you could hold yourself together by force.
The wolf in him wanted to circle.
The man in him wanted to kneel.
That was the horror of it.
No conquest rose in his blood, no though of easy ruin, no vulgar little triumph. Only a desire so severe it felt almost religious. To lower himself before you, to place his dangerous head in your lap and let you decide whether he deserved the mercy of your touch. To bare his teeth to the world and his throat to you.
When you moved, his pulse follower.
When you breathed, the beast listened.
Somewhere deep within him, hunger changed its name.
You were not safe with him. He knew that. Wolves didn't become gentle because they adored the lamb. Teeth didn't vanish for love. Claws didn't turn into hands simply because they wanted to be worthy.
Still, when a man approached you too closely, Valko smiled.
The poor fool stepped back before understanding why.
Good, Valko thought, and hated himself for the pleasure of it.
The lamb had not asked for a guardian, certainly not one with blood in his history and moonlight in his bones. Yet devotion came over him like a curse from an older god. If you commanded, he would tear the city open, if you whispered, he would obey, if you placed one hand upon his head and called him monster, he would thank you for the honesty.
Across the room, your gaze turned to him again.
This time, you didn't look away.
Memory came to him through the throat.
A strange place for the past to return, perhaps, though Valko had long ago learned that the body kept better records than the mind. Bone remembered winter, skin remembered injury, blood remembered blood. The mind, proud little tyrnat that it was, lied with exquisite conviction.
The body never did.
When you looked at him for the second time across the hall, something tightened beneath his jaw.
No.
Lower.
Beneath the pulse.
There.
A collar.
Invisible, ancient, burning with a pain too old to belong to this life.
For one terrible moment, the chandeliers vanished. The room went black around the edges. Music thinned into a high thread of sound, then snapped. Glass towers became ruined pillars, silk gowns became smoke. The moon in the window swelled until it filled the sky, enormous and white and merciless, and Valko saw another world opening beneath this one.
A courtyard of ash.
A city on its knees.
His hands, larger then, darker with blood. Claws sunk into stone. Breath coming out of him in brutal animal bursts, as if something inside his ribs had been trying to chew its way free for days.
And you.
Always you.
You had worn another face then, though beauty had never been the thing by which he knew you. Beauty was too fragile a witness, too easily altered by time, grief, hunger, death. He knew you by the stillness you made in him. By the impossible quiet that entered the beast when you came near, by the way his violence, which had never obeyed king or god or blade, lowered its head as soon as you lifted your hand.
In that other life, you had crossed the courtyard barefoot.
Ash clung to your hem, blood darkened one sleeve. Around you, men shouted for you to stop, priests wept into their prayers, soldiers raised their weapons with hands that shook badly enough to make the steel sing.
You didn't look at them.
Only at him.
“Valko,” you had said.
Valko. A name. A command. A mercy.
The beast inside him had snarled so violently the pillars cracked.
Still, his knees had struck the ground.
The memory tore through him.
Back in the hall, someone laughed too loudly near the champagne table, a waiter passed with flutes. You were still standing beneath the moonlit window, unaware that you hade just reached into him and opened a grave with your bare hands.
Valko swallowed.
The collar tightened.
Again, the past returned.
Your hand on his face.
So small against the ruin of him, so warm. He remembered wanting to turn away before you saw what he had become. He remembered failing. Shame had entered him then, sharp as iron. Why shame? Shame required love. Shame required someone before whom a monster still wished to appear worthy.
“Bind me,” he had told you.
Your mouth had trembled.
“No.”
“Bind me, before I kill them all.”
The beast had raged against teh words, it wanted the city, the soldiers, the priests, the nobles trembling behind their locked doors. It had wanted the whole world spilt open beneath its teeth.
Yet he had wanted your hand.
Only that.
Only the mercy of being stopped by someone he would not surviving hating.
“I will hurt you,” you whispered.
“You already have.”
Pain crossed your face.
Even then, even with blood in his mouth and half a kingdom dead behind him, he had regretted those words. Cruelty came so easily when grief held the tongue. He had reached for you, then lowered his hand before his clkaws could touch your sleeve.
“Please,” he said.
That had ruined you.
He remembered it now with such vicious clarity that the present blurred. Your eyes, wet and furious. Your fingers, shaking as you drew the blade across your palm. The red opening of your skin, the scent of your blood flowing the night until the beast inside him went mad with wanting and silent with devotion.
You had pressed your bleeding hand to his throat.
The world had screamed.
No chain appeared, no iron closed around him, no visible mark announced his capitivity. Only you. Only your voice, low against his mouth as you bent close enoiugh for his breath to warm your lips.
“In every life,” you said, “find me before the wolf does.”
The vow entered him like a nail driven through bone. His body bowed beneath it. The beast howled.
Then your forehead touched his.
“So long as I live,” you whispered, “you will know my hand.”
“And when you die?”
Your silence had been the answer.
When you died, the world would have him back.
When you died, he would become hunger without a name.
Valko came back to himself with his hand at his throat.
The hhall had not changed, Linkon glittered beyond the windows, music poured its polished grief over the rich adn beautiful. Nobody had noticed the chair twisting slightly beneath his grip, its metal frame bent inward as if softened by heat.
Nobody except you.
Across the room, your eyes had lowered to his hand.
Then to his throat.
Something moved across your face. Confusion first, then unease. Then a flicker of pain so brief a kinder man might have pretended not to see it.
Valko was not kind.
He saw everything.
The old vow stirred beneath his skin, his wolf lifted its head, not with hunger now, but recognition.
Lucien is the youngest male in the main cast of this series and he’s also the only male who pretty regularly (though not always) displays any emotional maturity and intelligence.
He also seems to be the one y’all have the most problems with interestingly.
Getting caught obsessing over one particular part of each of the LaDS guys. Slightly suggestive.
A/N: pre-relationship, flirting stage. MC reader. Mutual pining, Very very self-indulgent on my part. These are the things I like about each of them. Sylus part is much longer than the others cuz I had writer's block on it, and then I didn't. I also have surprisingly not written a lot of Sylus despite him being my second main, so here.
This isn't smut, by the way, there's definitely implication, but genuinely nothing happens except flirting and banter.
Rafayel's lips
Does Rafayel genuinely enjoy the sound of his own voice? Perhaps. After all, while his reliability is debatable in several regards, one thing you can always count on from him is a snide remark, his clever quips and his pension for argument. Rafayel is always quick to pout, sneer, and prod at your patience with his words. Banter comes naturally to him, and something about that gets under your skin sometimes. However, there is one thing that quells the sting...
While you sometimes hate to listen to him talk, you can't help but watch his mouth move. It's easy to drone out Rafayel's long-winded rants, ones that follow familiar cadences of "where where you? How cruel of you to keep me waiting, Miss Bodyguard." You've learned to let it slide right off of you, and it helps that he thinks your listening with the way you stare. You're not; you're only staring, staring at a perfect pair of soft, plush lips that talk too much and kiss you not enough (they don't kiss you at all, in fact). You always mentally kick yourself when you catch it, you're eyes wandering down his facial features and resting just a little too obviously below eye level.
Eventually, Rafayel's rant begins to slow as he notices your eyes have drifted, his words becoming more languid as he shifts slightly, expecting to dodge whatever's caught your attention, just to watch your eyes track back to him instinctively. For a moment he hangs there, before it dawns on him what you're staring at.
You can see it on those pouty lips, the way his whole face contorts in realization. A sly smile creeps onto his chin, and your eyes jerk away about a second too late.
"Something caught your eye, cutie?" he teases, taking a step toward you as you try and dodge his gaze.
You shake your head. "N- no, I just zoned out!"
He hums an "mhm" at you, laced with skepticism. "Right, right," Rafayel murmurs under his breath, hovering over you with a red-tipped ears but a cocky tilt in his head. "You weren't staring at my lips, Miss Bodyguard. You just 'zoned out'. Of course."
You roll your eyes, his sarcasm evading him like a second language. (He speaks 3: human, lemurian, and sass.) "I wasn't staring at anything!" you double down defensively. "I'm telling you! I zoned out because you just talk and talk... you're so annoying, Raf."
"Please," he scoffs. "You know you could've stopped me from talking at any time."
"That's crap! Rafayel, you literally never shut up," you chastise him, your feeble attempt to recover yourself from embarassment by throwing the critcism back to him. You always get this way, lashing out when he gets flirty, hoping his pride will overcome his lust and he'll get back to arguing with you instead of trying to read you like a book.
It doesn't work. Rafayel's hand swipes across your jawline, tilting your gaze back to him, and you meet coral and sea-colored eyes carving into you, and when you try and escape that piercing gaze, you betray yourself as you snake right back down to those smiling lips, their perfect pink tone and smooth surface, and he lets out a sing-songy laugh when he catches it. "Cutie," he coos. "If you want me to shut up so badly, then make me."
Xavier's eyes
Practically every colleague you had in the hunter's association knew you had developed a bit of an infatuation for Xavier. From the moment you saw him on that very first mission, it struck you how alluring his features were. He was asleep the first time you saw him, peaceful in a place of chaos, but when his eyes fluttered open, you were mesmerized, that deep blue remiscent of a night sky. A whole universe existed in those eyes.
When you were assigned to his team and eventually became his partner, it didn't take long for coworkers like Tara and Nero to notice the way you hung before his gaze like you were paralyzed. It didn't help that Xavier was so elusive to everyone else. Everyone noticed how long he would talk to you, and how you'd cling to his every second of attention, the new hotshot hunter, reduced to a hopeless girl with a crush on her superior. Even Captain Jenna would catch it and tease you about it from time to time.
There you are, in the middle of the briefing room, listening (or trying) to Xavier summarize your last mission, what went right, and what went wrong, and you couldn't be bothered by his critiques of your sword technique, because you can hardly think straight as those midnight-shaded eyes pierce into yours until you practically drown in them. It doesn't take him long to notice either, though he holds off on pointing it out as long as he can, but eventually his gaze narrows.
"Is... something wrong. You seem dazed today. Did our mission wear you out that much?" he asks, all innocence and concern.
You shake your head like you've been snapped out of a trance. "Uhh, ya. I guess I'm a little tired."
He nods agreeably. "That's okay," he says with a shrug. "Honestly, we really don't need these meetings anymore. Haven't for a while."
"Wha- why?" you ask.
He looks at you like the answer is obvious. "Because you're one of the top hunters in the association, and I have little left to teach you."
You tilt your head at him, becoming as genuinely lost as you look. "Then why do we keep having these post-mission debriefing meetings?"
Xavier, uncharacteristically, shrivels a little, a sheepish hand sliding against the nape of his neck with an awkward laugh. "Honestly?" he rasps, eyes dodging to his sides before he leans over, hovering by your ear. "I just like having your undivided attention. It's kind of cute how you look at me all doe-eyed like that."
Your eyes shoot up as he retreats from you with a quiet but cheeky laugh when he sees your face erupt in red. "Xavier," you whine.
"Careful," he teases, tilting his head to the side in a slight jerk, alluding to watchful eyes, and you briefly peer over to Tara and Nero, snickering at his desk. "Don't give our coworkers the wrong idea."
"Is it the wrong idea?" you mutter.
He shrugs. "Good point," he concedes to a comment that was supposed to be inaudible. Curse his excellent hearing!
Zayne's hands
Zayne has the careful, sturdy hands of a top surgeon, and that wasn't a matter of question, but to you, they were more than just skilled. They were something you could practically salivate over: long, dexterous fingers that were always precise, dressed in scars you knew he hated, and even you somewhat hated them in the sense of knowing their cause, knowing those scars represented what separated the two of you to begin with, but in a more twisted thought, they were kind of... hot. They made a clean-cut guy like Zayne seem grittier and impossibly more attractive somehow, and when those roughened hands have grazed your bare skin for any sort of check-up, whether it be taking your heartbeat or bandaging your wounds, it's been hard not to note how firm but comforting they are as well.
You had an array of thoughts about those hands, some more unsavory than others, but one thing you knew is you'd come up with just about any reason to get Zayne to touch you, so it wasn't uncommon to walk into his office unannounced on something bordering on ridiculous.
You got a splinter in your palm at a cafe only a couple blocks from Akso, and before you could even debate on it, your feet were moving until you were knocking on Zayne's office door with your healthy hand, and when he called to you to just come on in, you walked in with a guilty look on your face, and he meets your gaze with a glare, but it's laced with sympathy. "What is it this time?" he dares to ask, knowing your reasons have grown increasingly superfluous.
You hold out your palm like a whole toddler. "Splinter," you mumble.
He sighs, before his eyes pan over to the little stool next to his desk, the one he normally uses to prop his feet between appointments, but after several visits, it's practically your reserved chair. You pad over to it and settle in, watching as Zayne pulls a pair of tweezers from his drawer, then takes your wrist and leads your palm under his desk lamp.
The scene is oddly reminiscent, vaguely reminding you of the quiet kid who'd often bandage your scraped knees and freeze your melted popsicles. Except this kid is grown, and he's pressing into your palm to try and work that splinter out and into his tweezers, and though you wince in discomfort, your eyes trace over prominent veins on his wrists that bulge as he does. It doesn't last long though. He removes the darned needle in record time, dropping the tweezers and letting them clang against the desk. "There," he says, his hand lingering on yours as he carefully checks his work, twisting your wrist with the turn of his.
You're astonished at his skills. "That's it?" you ask, hardly able to even process the absence of the tiny spike between his speed and the feel of his fingers pressing into your palm.
"Yes?" he answers, equally confused. "What? Do you want me to kiss your boo-boo better as well, since you keep coming to me with your playground injuries?"
Your hand jerks out of his protectively when you see him pull your hand toward his smirked lips, wholly bewildered at the notion. "I- are you making fun of me?"
"A little," he admits with a coy smile. "Your excuses have become more and more blatant with every visit."
You shudder into yourself slightly, embarrassment overtaking you. Of course, he read right through you. Just before you can stand yourself up to leave, you see his hand reach for yours, you own both pressed into your lap. One gives way as he tugs it into his grasp, the one he pulls the splinter from, and he guides it right up to his lips and places a quick kiss to the palm, pulling away with a puckered smack that has you absolutely short-circuiting. "If you want to see me that badly, you should just text me instead of coming up with convoluted excuses. I'd much rather see you outside of work, you know."
Caleb's body
Growing up, you used to make fun of girls who would ogle Caleb, who would gush about how hot he was. Though you weren’t blind, and you knew he was attractive, to you, he was just Caleb, ever-present, constant, familiar. Yet, his miraculous return flipped everything you knew on its head. You knew Caleb wasn’t invincible and that you couldn’t afford to overlook him like you did in your youth, and when you took the time to really look at him, it finally clicked. You saw exactly what all those girls saw in him for all those years: soul-filled violet eyes with an amber glow, deep brown hair that was somehow perfectly ragged, and a dopey but undeniably charming smile. However, you also saw something those girls didn’t get to see: Colonel Caleb had the most perfectly sculpted body you’d ever damn seen.
Caleb returned to his Skyhaven abode on foot as he always does, going the extra mile quite literally by running home after his gym session, white tank clinging to his skin with sweat. You waited for him, casually sprawled across the couch, flipping through TV channels like the real show you were waiting on didn’t just enter through the front door.
"Did I keep you waiting, pipsqueak?" he asks after he catches his breath, eyes filled with tiredness, but his face draped in that smile that makes your heart turn to puddy.
You turn your gaze to him as casually as you can muster. "No, no, not at all," you reassure him (he totally did). "I was just channel surfing. How'd training go?"
He shrugs, pulling at his shirt collar. "Fine, but- am I crazy, or is it hotter in here than usual? Did you mess with the thermostat while I was out?"
"Nope," you answer him. "I feel fine, personally."
Caleb tugs at the clingy fabric of his shirt, suffocating against his skin, and grumbles something inaudible. His fingers loop around the hem of his shirt, and before he can second-guess himself, he crosses his arms over his abdomen, looping his fingers under the hem, and drags the fabric off his body, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing, abs crunching and all, and for the brief moment he spends pulling it over his head, you gawk shamelessly. Every instinct to yell at him for tossing the shirt on the floor melts away as he reaches for his shorts too, and you could just keel over from the thought of him stripping those off too, but he doesn't. He bunches up the leg fabric and pulls it up his thighs, his beefy, muscular thighs...
"Pips, are you sure? It feels like the AC's busted or something-" he jeers before his eyes drift back up to you, and the moment they lock on, he can see the way your mouth falls agape, the guilty look of need in your eyes, and the moment hangs in the air for an awkward second before you both jerk out of one another's gaze. His eyes fall on the thermostat on the wall.
Off.
He peers back up at you, head cocked to the side in that overconfidence that tells you he has you all figured out as you try to look at him and not the beads of sweat running through the ridges of his abs.
"Pipsqueak," he coos in this warning but coaxing tone. "Why is the thermostat off? In the middle of summer. Are you not burning up?"
He gets close enough to you to hover, large enough in frame to cast a shadow from the TV's LEDs. "I... didn't even notice."
He hums unconvincingly. "Could've fooled me. You should see how red your face is right now," he taunts, his voice almost a quiet whisper as your eyes can't help but trail down.
Your head was caught in an uncomfortable lean, furthered by his domineering gaze and stature, and your head falls slack, and suddenly there's no mistaking your eyes trailing down his abdomen, and he's close enough to reach, to see that Adonis belt and prominent vein that runs below his waistband. Your head turns away from him, morbid embarrassment flooding your face with redness. "You should go take a shower. You're sweating."
"And you should refrain from tampering with my AC, you goober," he teases, fingers reaching to you to flick your forehead, making you jut back, before swiveling around on his hips toward the bathroom with newfound stride. "If you ask nicely, I'll let you feel at em' next time."
You scoff. "You wish," you mutter.
"That I do," he answers as he walks off.
Sylus' voice
You tried. You tried so hard to hide from him and his perceptive eye, but it was inevitable that Sylus would learn of your infatuation, which might not have been a big deal for anyone else, but for him, it was your weakness and his leverage. You tried desperately to quell the chills that rushed down your spine when he said the right combination of things in the right tone, effortless authority laced with an arcane timbre. The aether core in his eye should've logically been your undoing, but no. It was his voice that made you truly vulnerable.
Past the initial rough first impressions, you developed a relative amity with Sylus, increasing your visits to the N-109 zone to trade intel, a strict business arrangement, but in truth, it was hard to deny something was swelling in your chest when you saw him, or more accurately, when you heard him. Sylus had a way with words, a way of making everything sound so much more sensual than it needed to be, that is, and it did unspeakable things to you.
On one of your frequent visits to his mansion, you approach Sylus about the whereabouts of a high-priority criminal that recently fled to the N-109 zone, according to intel you received from the Hunter's Association. His connections almost ensure he would be made aware of any new arrivals into his territory, and sure enough, the second you knock on his mansion door, flash him a picture of who you're looking for, he's ushering you in with a casual shrug, leading you to the first empty room with a lock he can find. After all, he doesn't share his knowledge with just anyone.
"In the spirit of transparency and efficiency, yes. I was made aware that this... squirrelly fellow slipped into the N-109 zone, nearly right under my nose, and I have on good authority the general direction he went after, but I must know. What does the Hunter's Association want with him, and why should I give you that information for free?" He probes with the calculated propensity you would be foolish not to expect of him at this point.
"Sylus," you warn him. "You should know by now I'm not at liberty-"
"Not at liberty to reveal the Association's classified information. I know, sweetie. You've told me many times," he intervenes, repeating the words you've echoed in the past with sing-songy mockery. "Yet, it hardly seems fair how often you come to me for answers while offering nothing in return."
"Because you don't ask for anything in return, Sy'. How is that my fault?"
Sylus rolls his eyes in a way, a half-hearted laugh escaping your lips. "Perhaps, I simply don't want our relationship to be nothing more than transactions of intel. Can't I offer you what you seek out of the kindness of my heart?"
"Oh, spare me. You have an ulterior motive. You always do," you chastise him.
He scoffs and places a dramatic hand to his heart. "Sweetie, your accusations wound me greatly. You think so little of me, but I'm not heartless. Do you truly think I'd ever turn away a wounded kitten limping at my doorstep?"
You groan out in response. The kitten analogies, ugh. Your eyes squint as you suppress your frustrations, before a heavy sigh evades you. "Just tell me where he is, Sylus, and I'll get out of your hair."
His face drops. "You're no fun today," he grumbles. "He entered the N-109 Zone and proceeded to head southbound down the highway before my surveillance lost sight of him. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," you drone, face blank in sarcasm, before you immediately turn back toward the door. "Until next time."
"Perhaps then you'll find it within yourself to repay my generosity with something of your own," he calls out to you, and you shift to a halt before you reach the door, hearing something lacing his tone so subtly, you fear you only imagine it. Your chest tightens when your mind goes where it shouldn't. You vigorously shake your head, a motion you did not intend to act out, but you do so to exile whatever baseless thoughts threaten your mind. Your pause, of course, does not go unnoticed, and before you can continue onward, you can feel his presence domineering behind you.
"What's this?" he pries. "Cat got your tongue?"
You swallow dryly at the notion, back still faced away from him. "Goodbye, Sylus-" you attempt to say firmly, but as you reach for the door handle, he's already guarding it with his large frame.
"I can't help but notice you've been freezing up like this at our last couple of... rendezvous," he notes, eyes bearing into you as you attempt to dodge his crimson gaze. "Is there something I should know, sweetie?"
Before you can even say no, the sheer proximity, the way his voice carries in your ear with its low, gritted rasp, has your breath quaking before him, only worsened by the illustrious laugh that follows when he witnesses you falter. You fall to silence in a way that infuriates you to no end, and before you can deny or recover, you feel a gentle hand slide against your cheek, and a scarlet glow invades your vision from his aether core, flooding your mind with the exact thoughts you tried to suppress. "Sylus, that's- this isn't fair-"
"If you want to talk about fair, then the least you can do is not keep secrets from me in my own home, kitten," he quips, tilting your chin up to him, carmine gaze burning through you as he reads through those thoughts at the forefront. "You can only hide from me for so long."
Those thoughts flooding your mind, thoughts of how Sylus voice is pure lust and manages to say the things that make your knees want to buckle as he stares into you, make you feel exposed before him, naked in a sense. Your face reddens as you watch him read your features, his eyes softening and brows contorting as he listens to every thought that rushes through your mind involuntarily, and it only gets worse the longer he holds it. It starts innocently. His voice is nice, makes you feel all warm and tingly, but then it gets shameful. You recall that voice some nights, sometimes when you're particularly lonely. You recall the way it rings in your ears with its deep, almost animalistic growl, and sometimes you even imagine what he'd sound like when he moans-
"Oh?" he annunciates when he finally breaks away from you, his hand dropping to his side and his eye dimming to its normal state. "And to think how many times you've told me I should talk less. You betray yourself, kitten."
You grumble in exasperation, face heated in embarrassment. "Alright, you had your fun. I'm leaving now-"
"Oh, on the contrary. My fun has just begun," he teases. "How I wonder to what extent I affect you so greatly. Want to find out?"
You crumble beneath him for the second time when his voice grows to a quiet whisper, your chin drooping down toward your collarbone in an attempt to dodge his eyes, those rubies of ruination. It leaves your ear wide open for him, though, an opportunity he does not miss.
Sylus leans in slightly, hands folded in his pockets, and yet his breath tickles the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. "You showed me your vulnerability, even if I had to coax it out of you. Let me offer you a bit of mine," he whispers, and its delivery is more overt than before, your eyes trailing back up to him guiltily. "I'm flattered to know you harbor such thoughts, vulgar as some of them may be. You should know, I too am particularly fascinated by a feisty kitten who loves to hiss and bare her teeth at me, and on occasion... I wonder if this kitten knows how to purr as well. I only hope one day she'll give me the opportunity to learn for myself."
You breathe in a sharp inhale, too pierced and tense, your whole body radiating heat and anticipation you hope his ever-perceptive self misses. "You're too much for me, sometimes, Sylus."
"And yet somehow simultaneously... It's also not enough," he adds.
You seethe beneath him. "Ugh, I thought you stopped using your stupid eye!"
Sylus responds to you with a hearty laugh, the kind that nearly makes you melt. "I did, sweetie. That was conjecture, but thank you for confirming for me."
Your hands bury into your face, dragging down the pudge of your cheeks as you groan, feeling trapped and vulnerable.
As if he sees your defenses form right in front of him, Sylus's hand reaches for the door handle, opening the door and holding it out to you like an offering. The sly smile across his face dissipates to something you can't quite place, but it's gentle and unexpected. "Until next time," he reiterates your words from earlier.
You nod meekly, the kind of shyness that almost disgusts yourself to display for him, the enemy you still somewhat can't let your guard down around, before you head out the doorway.
Sylus sighs as you walk past him. "I hope one day, you will entrust me with the secrets you hold close to your heart without me having to tempt them out of you, because if you do... I will fulfill your every heart's desire and more."
"And how am I to know that what you're saying is not just deceit?" you question him, head turning back to spot him in the corner of your eye.
"You tell me, kitten. Do you truly think I am saying that just to deceive you?" He asks back.
You sigh. "I don't know, Sylus," you tell him. "I suppose one day I might find out, though. Goodbye, Sylus."
You turn toward the door before you can hesitate further, finding no sly remarks to answer you, just uncharacteristic silence.
Truthfully, you, too, hope you can trust him like that one day as well.
A/N: Not me slipping in accidental SylusMC angst. BRO! I literally cut down Caleb's for word count just to go ham on Sylus after, whoopsie. Also this is my first time really properly writing anything for him, and first at all for Xav so... that's nice.
POV: You are the non-MC wife. You thought the marriage would save you, but the moment you crossed his precious MC, you became nothing more than a target. He didn't even hesitate.
God, the angst of being the disposable villain in someone else's love story is unmatched 💔
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