˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“this isn’t what i ordered,” you say, ready to admit defeat and picking up your fork, taking a piece and sniffing it. Rafayel frowns at your words, immediately looking around and waving over the waiter. “raf! it’s okay, it’s not that bad i don’t wanna bother–”

“how can i help, sir?” the waiter asks with a small smile, rafayel turns to look at you. you look like a deer in headlights.

“that’s not what she ordered,” he states simply.

“i-it’s okay!” you immediately laugh nervously, the waiters eyes widen as the waiter quickly apologizes, taking the plate from you and asking what you’d ordered originally. your face burns as you recite your order, muttering a small ‘sorry’ as the waiter scurries away to right the wrong.

rafayel who is always your voice when you’re too shy or nervous to speak up for yourself, telling people off when they bump into you and expect you to apologize.

“you bumped into her dumbass, apologize.” rafayel narrows his eyes at the man, they glow blue, pupils turning into slits for a split second. it’s enough to cause the man to practically beg for forgiveness, running the other way when rafayel tells him to get lost.

“raf…” your voice is soft but has the slightest edge to it. rafayel gives you a sheepish smile, then immediately pouts at you with gleaming eyes.

“cuutieeee cmon! he was a dick to you!” he frowns, practically hanging off your arm as the two of you continue to walk to the burger joint you’d planned on trying.

“he said excuse me,” you retort, fighting a smile off your face. rafayel sees the slightest twitch of your lips, he immediately stands a little straighter, placing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“he had a tone, no one gives my bride tone,” he hums, lacing his fingers with yours.

your face flushed at the term of endearment, simply squeezing his hand slightly.

“you give me tone all the time.”

“you beat my ass for it,” he giggles, sighing softly as he recalls the way you manhandle him when he frustrates you to no end.

“no one believes that by the way,” you scoff, rafayel grins brighter.

“‘course not, my shy cutie would never hurt a poor little fishie like me– ow!” he pouts as you pinch his arm slightly, you only smile up at him.

“can you tell them i want no onions, please?” your voice is soft as ever as you move closer to the cashier, turning and facing your lover.

“of course,” he smiles down at you, eyes soft and heart aflutter as you press yourself closer to him when you’re next in line.

masterlist

while his warmth is deliberate, none of it is an act. he lives for the little favors he does for you, and he genuinely wants to get to know you better

still, whenever you cross paths, you just seem to resent him. so when he gets the chance, he tries to glean information from people closer to you.

if your friend is around, he’ll make casual conversation, like, “hey, they’re kinda prickly sometimes, huh?” 

used to this by now, your friend holds in a snort. “no, they just look like that. people always think they’re mad, but it’s their natural face.”

he’s relieved you don’t have some age-old vendetta against him, but he feels guilty for assuming. especially now that he’s gone behind your back to get the truth instead of asking you directly

tells himself he’ll stop sneaking around for information about you in the future

doesn’t

rafayel is on the fence. on the one hand, that could just be your neutral expression, and that's perfectly fine. on the other, every time you look at him like he’s no more than a barnacle, the walls start closing in. as does the doubt.

gradually, he begins orchestrating situations where you'll find him favorable so you associate him with positive things. then you’ll have to like him, right?

how dare that beluga splash you at the aquarium! don’t worry, he keeps a towel in his bag. you know, just in case stuff like this happens. 

no pictures allowed on your museum tour? why don’t you come to his studio instead? take home the piece of your choice.

at the beach and a crab pinches your ankle? don’t worry, he’ll tell it off! (and secretly slip it a sand dollar when you’re not looking)

eventually, after one too many coincidences, you ask what he's doing 

when he comes clean, you’re bewildered. where did he ever get the idea that you didn't like him? couldn’t he see how much you enjoyed spending time with him? how flustered you got every time he sidled up to you to save the day?

the realization makes you both sheepish, but overall, it’s a win-win. you can be yourself without worry, and he can stop bribing sea creatures to do his bidding.

xavier thinks it’s hot.

at first.

when a while passes and you’re still glaring daggers at him, then he’s genuinely concerned you don’t like him. and a bit frightened 

when you see animals, you smile. when you see flowers, you smile. but when you open up your front door and see him standing on the other side? you look at him like he's a trespasser.

he’s standoffish and sulky while he considers whether to ask you about it, but it’s a short debate.

after some confusion and slight mortification on your part—you truly did not realize you were trying to evaporate him with your eyes—you reassure him that you do like him and would like to keep seeing him. multiple times, ending in couch cuddles

whenever you mean mug him in the future, he reaches out two fingers to stretch your lips into a grin, a smile of his own shining back at you

after the first few attempts to bat his hand away, you give up

sylus isn’t too bothered. anyone who leads onychinus needs a good poker face, after all.

he's used to people judging him by his appearance. he doesn’t want to do the same to you.

one day, luke and kieran ask why you’re angry, but you feel perfectly fine. for the next 20 minutes, they recount how your resting face instills fear in the hearts of gods.

self-conscious, you go to sylus and ask for the truth. have you ever scared him or made him feel uncomfortable? 

“not at all,” he replies, a wry grin on his lips. “because i know what it’s like when people deem you ‘scary’ without giving you a chance to prove them wrong.” 

he sees through your mask, and he takes note of the subtlest changes in your expression. he can tell between your :|, your :/, your c:, and your :). to him, they’re distinctly different, each with their own special color

all your expressions, or lack thereof…you’re just another language he's fluent in.

now, he just has to start tutoring the twins 

sometimes, you and zayne just stare at each other. an outsider would find it nonsensical, but no. you’re communicating. 

albeit awkwardly.

it’s basically a stalemate, the way you analyze each other’s microexpressions: every eyebrow raise, every twitch of the lips, every nose scrunch. 

still, neither of you are stars at reading body language, and you come up short trying to figure out each other’s true feelings.

it’s best for you to be direct with each other. ask how the other is doing, if they're having fun or if they're tired. are they hungry, thirsty? is there somewhere else they’d like to go? 

it’s the only escape from the cycle of miscommunication.

rbf x rbf. as much as it’s an obstacle, it's also an asset. on your first date, you take a stroll through a street market. you both look so unapproachable, so unintentionally cold, that not even the bravest vendor hounds you to buy from them. in your own little bubble of extra-strict faces, you're free to explore at your own pace.

you nearly trip as you round the final corner that separates you. but when you finally reach the room where his meetings are held, the hulking figure looming outside gives you pause. 

“you need something?” 

he’s one of sylus’s men—bruce, if you remember right—but you haven’t spoken to him much. surely, though, he’s seen you around?

swallowing thickly, you wring your hands out in front of you. “i was looking for sylus. i was hoping i could talk to him.”

if he notices the tremor in your body, he doesn’t say anything. “boss is busy right now. you can come back when he’s done.” 

when he’s done? 

“um…are you sure?” you protest weakly. “he usually doesn’t care if—”

“i’m sure, alright?” for some reason, he sounds exasperated. “look, this deal is important to us, and he doesn’t need any distractions. just wait for him to finish.”  

the words bounce in your brain. they feel wrong. you feel wrong. but if your presence ever sabotaged his work, you’d blame yourself for weeks. 

biting your lip, you nod once and turn on your heel, dragging your feet back to your shared bedroom. 

you’ve been hugging your knees for what feels like hours when the door creaks open. almost immediately, the scent of home fills the room, wrapping around you like the hug you needed earlier. 

“sylus?” you croak, pushing yourself up on the mattress. “are…are you free now?”

he pauses for a moment, then flicks the nearest lamp on its lowest setting. in the warm, reddish light, you see his elevated eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

“i know you were in a meeting. i almost went to see you, but the guard said i shouldn't disturb you. so i’ve been waiting here.” 

“disturb,” he repeats, like the word is foreign on his tongue. “you…disturb…me?” 

his head is angled to the side, like a puppy’s during its first encounter with the bathtub. you decide against telling him this, only nodding instead. 

as soon as you do, the shadows of snarl creep onto his face. “why were you coming to see me?”

“i was just anxious, i guess. it wasn’t that much worse than usual.” the back of your neck warms, and you scratch it nervously. “since you usually help me, i thought maybe you could this time, too. but it’s okay,” you rush. “i feel better now.”

he shuts his eyes, letting out a three-second sigh. then, he comes to the bed, sits down beside you, and tucks you into his side. “he’s fired.”

startled, you raise your head as much as his bear paw of a hand allows. “what?”

“the guard you ran into. he’ll be gone by morning,” he says simply. 

your heart hammers in your chest again—this time, out of guilt. “but—i’m sure it was a misunderstanding. he was only trying to make sure your meeting went well, and i could have come in at a bad time, and—”

the wry curve of his lips tells you he’s not convinced. “alright, sweetie. let’s say i keep him on. this first time, you’re upset, and he thinks it’s not worth telling me. what happens next, then? you’re hurt, and i don’t find out until it’s too late?”

he takes your silence as a sign to continue. 

“if you were in danger and someone kept you from coming to me,” he begins, voice dipping in with conviction, “i’d do much, much worse than fire them. consider this a blessing, sweetie. you’re doing the man a favor.”

you chew your lip and fiddle with your hands, unable to fully believe him. “i guess.” 

gently, he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head until your eyes meet. “i want you to see me anytime, no matter the reason. even if you don't have one. your problems are my problems, and my time is yours.”

you can’t hold his gaze for very long—you never can. but when you wrap your arms around his torso, he knows he’s gotten through to you. 

“good. now, why don’t you tell me what you were so anxious about?”

you stiffen against him, but only momentarily. “i don’t really want to.” 

he lets out a bewildered scoff. “hmm?”

“you’re here now, and i’m happy. i want to focus on that instead,” you say, shoving your face into his chest. 

he lets his body buckle slightly from the force, his rich chuckle setting your mind at ease. “alright, then. how was the rest of your day?”

a week later, a taller, bigger, much nicer guard knocks on the dark oak door. nodding your head in thanks, you enter after a moment’s preparation, and the mix of deep voices falls to a hush. 

the meeting is over. you know that as soon as sylus’s eyes find yours, softening from warmth and relief. “thank you, morgan,” he calls to the new guard. then, he cuts his eyes across the sleek round table. “i’ll have the room now. follow up in three days.” 

scraping their chairs against the hardwood floors, the other men nod their heads and clear out. once the door shuts behind them, sylus turns his chair toward you and pats his thigh. you rush into his open arms without a second thought. 

“hi, sweetie,” he murmurs into your hair. “what is it?”

heat rushes to your cheeks. you bite the inside of your left one. “i…”

humming inquisitively, he gives an encouraging squeeze to the side of your waist. “you…?”

“i…am bored.”

pulling back a bit, sylus examines you carefully, checking to see if you’re serious. when all you do is stare back at him, fighting the urge to cover your face, a snort builds to a wheeze, then to a bark of laughter. “and we can't have that, can we?” he teases, eyes twinkling like roses in starlight. 

sheepish, you shake your head and try to double down. “we can’t. my problems are your problems.” 

“they are. you’re a quick learner,” he rumbles, gently bringing your foreheads together. “how lucky is it that i’m bored, too? had that meeting gone any longer, i would’ve had to remove our honored guests from the base.” 

shifting on his lap, you squint down at him. “by kindly asking them to leave, right?” 

“something like that,” he replies, and you try to suppress the image of fifteen bodies being flown out the front door. “in any case, what should we do instead?”

“well, there’s this rainforest documentary i want to watch. or we could keep watching that vampire drama, or we could play that game i beat you at last time—”

“i have no memory of that.” 

“I do.” you steamroll over him. “or you could walk me through the armory again, or…”

as you spew out options, you’re almost oblivious to the way he maneuvers you in his hold. soon enough, though, you’re intensely aware of the kisses he scatters over your cheeks, stealing your focus until your lips tug into a frown. “you’re not listening, are you?”

“of course i am,” he whispers, hands roaming over your skin. “your ideas are great, kitten. it’s just…there’s no need to rush. why don't we start going down the list, say, an hour from now?”

you can barely nod before he pulls you into a searing kiss, any and all boredom going up in smoke. you don’t know how long you stay there with him, touching until your bodies blur together. an hour, two—you’re not sure, you don’t care. 

you’d booked his appointment at the store nearest to you the very next day. 

“stop being a baby!” you groan. “it’ll literally take ten seconds.”

“i don’t know, sweetie.” planting his heels further into the asphalt, he halfheartedly picks at his nails. “i could get used to the sound of you calling me ‘baby.’”

“what if you get sick because you didn't get the treatment?” you change tactics, putting your hands on your hips. “i’ll be so sad and lonely.”

“you can set up a lawn chair next to my grave. be sure to wear sunscreen.”

your hands leave your sides to fly up in the air. ugh. “you—” ugh. “you…” ugh!!

sylus blinks lazily. “can we go home now?”

“no.” you breathe slowly through your nose, a slight wheeze blowing through. “you leave me no choice.”

snatching his arm into a crushing bear hug, you feel the familiar rush of resonance flow through your body. once you’ve adopted his evol, red and black ropes coil around his wrists. 

mustering all your energy, you brace yourself and pull with all your might. in slow motion, your boyfriend torpedoes through the pharmacy doors. 

despite his protests, you don't look back until you’ve made it to the reception area. 

“there.” you stop resonating, and the ropes disappear. “now tell them you're here for your appointment.”

sylus only scowls at you, a slight growl rumbling in his throat. 

if you weren’t in public, you’d growl back. instead, you cross your arms. “i can do that part for you, too, if you're feeling shy.”

as seconds pass, his hackles drop, and his figurative ears lay flat on his head. warily, he stalks toward the check-in station. 

──────

the heat ripples off him in waves. 

after fifteen torturous minutes of waiting, the short brunette pharmacist finally calls sylus to the back. when he hears his name, his body tenses. then, slowly, he slinks out of his seat.

“good luck!” you call from the comfort of your chair, flipping absently through a lifestyle magazine.

when you make no move to follow him, he stares at you in unease. “you’re not coming?”

“do i need to?”

his jaw clenches. “it would be nice.”

at that, you suppress a laugh—he doesn't need to be any more agitated right now. shrugging, you flip the magazine closed and follow him to the side door, where the pharmacist ushers you in with a warm smile. at least this way, you can keep an eye on him.

──────

it’s funny how a man with so many battle scars winces at the sting of a tiny needle. he nearly crushes your hand when it pierces his skin, squeezing with the force of an embattled legion. you only reclaim the feeling in your fingers once the needle is removed, and sylus’s deep exhale fills the room. 

“alright, sir, you’re all done!” the pharmacist chirps. “we recommend you hang back here for around twenty minutes so we can monitor potential side effects, but after that, you're free to go.” 

minus his twitching eye, sylus looks like he's frozen in time. ever the caretaker, you step in for him with a smile. “thank you!” 

──────

the next morning, you attempt to roll out of bed and start your day, only to find that you can’t. 

sylus can get touchy in his sleep, but usually not to this extent. this morning, his entire right arm is draped over you, its bulk anchoring you to the bed. 

after several unsuccessful attempts to wriggle free, you trail your eyes up his topless body, all the way to his face. he’s gazing back at you, a slight smirk on his lips. because of course he is. 

“after yesterday, i can barely lift it. so i guess we’re stuck here, just like this. for hours, maybe. who knows?” he yawns exaggeratedly and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nipping gently at the skin. “these are just the consequences of your actions, i suppose.” 

“oh, yes. it’s my fault for trying to keep you healthy.” grumbling, you try to lift his leaden arm, to no avail. 

with a low, victorious hum, he soothes the sting on your neck with a kiss. 

“Only one? That’s petty of you.”

“I’m being gracious! You'll have more next year anyway—what is your biggest wish right now?”

He was complaining yet smiling. You knew he probably had everything—riches, weapons, records, anything you could name off. Still, this idea tops, rather than dragging him to another Twinkle Fair amusement park against his will—well, he enjoyed it, but still.

“Anything? Anything at all?” he murmured, taking your hand to pull you down to sit with him.

“Mhm. But nothing you always get every day,” you set your conditions, poking his cheek.

His thumb traced circles on your knuckles. He knew what he wanted, but he was contemplating. Would you really grant it? Was it too much for a wish?

“What are you thinking?” you asked, eyeing his serious face. It was more serious than his deal meetings.

“I wish… to live with you, here or anywhere—doesn't matter.”

Your eyes widened, pulling away, only to have his arm secured around your waist. The surprise on your face made him falter slightly before placing your handmade ticket aside gently. 

The thought of you backing away haunts him—

“We’re eventually going to do that—wait, we’re basically living together with me visiting almost every day. Why are you making it as your wish? No, try another one.” You blinked, looking up at him.

Oh, it’s not because you didn’t want to.

He released his held breath, leaning down to rest his face against the crook of your neck. 

“Sy?” you called out quietly. You’re confused why he’s being clingy all of a sudden.

“That’s my wish. You’ve only been visiting, come live with me,” he murmured. “All I want is to be closer to you—waking up and sleeping next to you, sharing the same space, being angry but still in the same house, that’s what I want.”

He listed all the domestic things he wants to experience with you. Your heart was warmed by listening to his wish. 

You chuckled, fingers running through his hair. “Fine, I’ll move here first thing in the morning.”

“Your wish ticket still stands, though.” You hummed. Sylus only laughs, lifting you to his lap.

“Happy birthday again, Sy. Let’s get ready for your birthday dinner with the boys.” Placing a quick kiss on his cheek, you got out to get ready. Turning to him one last time, you were still not convinced that’s all he wants from you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wish for anything else?”

Sylus only smiled, standing up to follow you. His arm finds your waist easily once more, placing a kiss on your head.

“I’ve got all I want in front of me. What else could I have aside from you beside me forever to love?”

In the midst of your inner screaming, you failed to notice the series of caws going away, Mephisto had watched. Great, the sound of the crash must’ve echoed down the hall—you hoped Mephisto was sent to watch over Emcee, but he just had to be spying on you.

You crouched down, wincing when something stings on your feet. 

Ah, some of the shards prickled your feet. Tiny scratches emit blood from it—but you needed to save the flowers, you knew how much Emcee's gifts are worth to Sylus. It would probably cost your whole life.

"Stop.”

It took one single word and tone to make you flinch. The command boomed down the hallway, black mists reached too late when you had touched a shard, gripped hard when you got startled. You stiffened, avoiding looking at him. 

Heart hammering, cold sweat dampens your back. There was no way to hide this mess, huh?

Crunch of glass underneath their boots. You were only wearing slippers.

Luke and Kieran came in tow, navigating around you to clean up the mess while Sylus lifted you in his arms. He frowned at the blood on your feet, tiny glass shards still prickling in.

"Why are you hiding your face?" he asked, with a slight frown. Staring down at you while he made his way to his bedroom, were you that scared of him? 

"I haven't even bitten you,” he murmured, arms tightening around you.

"I'm sorry I broke your vase that has Emcee's flowers in it." You blurted out immediately, feeling sick in your stomach. "Please don't cast me out—or kill me, you can take my paycheck for the vase."

Sylus hasn't heard something so absurd in his life. He scoffs in disbelief. Whatever you were even talking about?

He set you down on the bathroom counter, then grabbed some medical supplies. The silence he's giving off now is scaring you much more. Your palms were clammy by now, gripping your own shirt.

He had gently taken your hand, the one that pricked the shard. He tsk-ed at the blood staining your shirt, he should’ve tended to your hand immediately.

"You could tell me why you didn't immediately ask for help and explain why you touched the shards yourself instead." He hummed, kneeling to peel off the shards from your feet with tweezers.

"I was trying to save the flowers... I know how much you value her gifts," you muttered, holding your hands together to hold off the pain. One shard had pricked too deeply, you cried in pain.

A soothing rub of comfort was on your knee, while his black mist assisted his other hand.

"To the point I would sacrifice you to go through broken glass?” He raised a brow, sighing. Before you could splutter a response, he sighed.

“No, dove,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I must change your mind if you think I would sacrifice you."

Not his worker, not his assistant, but you. Specifically, you.

He gestured for you to turn your feet toward the sink, gently washing the blood off before disinfecting them.

"But it's from her..."

"Do you think I choose her more than you?"

"I-Isn't that obvious? Her, of course."

His movements stop at your words. His eyes glanced at your teary ones, in pain from the alcohol he was dabbing on—or was it from fear? 

Wrapping it with some bandages, he made sure it was secure while he checked for any more injuries.

"You once had Luke and Kieran chase the man for the brooch that was meant for her." His head snapped up, inhaling deeply. Right, you were there when he went to grab it at an auction. He barked the orders as soon as the brooch was snatched from the auction listings.

"And the dress was the wrong size, you got mad." You timidly reasoned, fingers fiddling with each other. “I immediately sent it back for a new size—you should check it when you can, it arrived today.”

Sylus furrowed his brows. Did he come off as mad? Surely he only said it was the wrong size, but you handled the problem perfectly as always—he didn’t mean to reprimand you. It was to remind himself to double-check the size.

“Also, the necklace that wasn’t ready before her birthday…”

"It seems you're misunderstanding things, dove." He cuts you off, unable to hear anymore. He felt like a fool for not knowing how you felt all this time.

You frowned, holding onto him when he lifted you. Shifting uncomfortably, you remind yourself he was only being considerate of your injured feet—would he lift you on normal occasions?

You expected him to move you back to your room, which was just across his, only to place you on his bed. Eyes widened, you squirmed, panicking. "W-Wait, what are you doing—"

"Stay still." He grunts, fixing the pillows behind you for you to sit comfortably. "Tell me if you need anything, or ask Luke or Kieran."

"And we're going to talk. Right here, right now," he said, pulling a chair to sit by the bed.

You gulped, intimidated. Was he going to fire you after this? Will this be your end? 

Your waterworks were already streaming, which surprised him. Yet he only chuckled, wiping them away now. His hand lingered, cradling your face, just like he always does whenever he sees you asleep.

“Whatever you’re thinking is not true,” he murmured, grazing your cheek with his thumb. He felt like a fool for letting you think otherwise.

"Everything you just mentioned was all for you."

You choked on your own saliva. Sylus already had a glass of water in his hand and handed it to you. "Your paycheck wouldn't be able to afford the vase, it'll be three years' worth of your paycheck."

"I'm so sorry..." you meekly said, holding the glass of water like a wrongdoer. You hadn’t processed the words he said.

Everything was for you.

It took you a while to boot before gasping. “What do you mean it was for me?”

“I always had wanted to reward you with something for your hard work… an outfit with matching accessories, a dinner for you with me.” He had planned it. A surprise, he didn’t expect you would think it was for Miss Hunter.

The look on your face was amusing. He laughed at your disbelief expression. He decided to add the attack. "Yes, it's you whom I value more if you haven't got the hint."

Sylus laughed, glad to see your tears stop. "And your apology will be accepted if you agree to go with me to make a new vase and tell me your favorite flowers."

"Make? My favorites?"

"Yes, make. I will put your flowers in it."

"...I swear you're playing too hard, boss." You squint, looking at him. Fingers fiddled, you frowned.

“You… You’re not joking, right?”

“When have I joked about my intentions with you, dove?”

“Right…” you muttered. It wasn’t like he ever played around. 

The hand on your cheek was warm, his thumb kept rubbing comfortably—gosh, you would have your face in his hands at any time. 

“Dinner this weekend night?” he murmured, casually throwing in the invite. He raised a brow at the lack of answer, laughing when he realized you were in daze.

He thinks it’s a yes from your dopey smile.

in which i try to make less than 1k words for sylus but fail. the whole point of this is i just want someone to speak softly to me