Not in for the reason most would immediately think, but because you have a habit of dancing when you enjoy it.
The first time he noticed, the two of you were at a newer restaurant and, under the din of conversation, he could hear a radio playing. He chalked it up to you subconsciously hearing the beat.
The second time was when the two of you stopped for homemade gelato, but again, there was music. A lively little band playing at the bar next door's back patio.
With a shrug, and a grin, you were too cute when it happened, it fell to the back of his mind.
Sylus finally caught on when the next time he saw it, his chef had made you one of your favorite comfort meals. There was no music, nothing that could even be mistaken as any type of beat, and yet you wiggled back and forth on the stool as it was placed in front of you.
Added some arm motions after taking a bite.
He had laughed, the light kind that pulls your attention instantly. You had asked him what was funny, and he just said, "You."
You cocked your head, confused, and he shook his, feeding you a line about getting the fanciest grilled cheese in all of the N109 Zone and Linkon.
It quickly turned into a private game, one he enjoyed greatly for two reasons. The first was that he was able to spend time with you, which made anything palatable. The second was the excuse to dress you up and take you out.
Now, not everything the two of you ate was high end - Micheline star rated. Sometimes he would indulge your whims to go to some place a co-worker had mentioned off handed that you wanted to try.
What he realized quickly, however, was that whatever version of the dance escaped you was a fairly accurate indicator of the food.
You nearly always had a little shimmy when the plate was set before you, especially if it was visually appealing.
From there, after the first bite, it would range. If it was alright, you bounced your head. If it was good, a shoulder shimmy would make it's way out. The next level was a full body shake that he could only describe as a mini twist, but on a minute scale. As if a puppy was wagging it's tail.
But he knew it was delicious when your hands joined the fray. Sometimes the pumped the air right in front of you. Sometimes it was a little wider, out to the sides, while your whole body bounced back and forth.
If that dance slipped out, he would mark down the restaurant as one to return to later.
You had caught him once, staring, waiting for you to take your first bite. Sylus had been doing that for a while, leaning forward, fork in hand, but nothing moved to his mouth until after you had fully taken yours.
You had teased him - asking if he was using you to test for poison, and he had snorted and shook his head, taking a bite to subtly encourage you to eat what was in front of you.
Sylus wasn't even sure you consciously realized you were doing it or if it was because you were comfortable with him you didn't care that you did.
Either way, it was one of the many small things about you he kept tucked away close to his heart. There were many things about you to love - but your little happy food dance was one of his absolute favorites.
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"You're doing it again," a voice like distant thunder rumbled, a large finger poking the wrinkle between your brow.
Looking up, you glared, smacking the hand away from your face. "I'm not doing anything."
"That's exactly the problem." Before you could protest, the phone was snatched out of your hand, clicked off, and pocketed.
"Give it back! I was looking at something -"
"No, you were brooding," he said, easily blocking your attacks. "You were lost in your own made up anxieties, looking for evidence to support those theories."
You froze at the accuracy, fingers twitching, as a gray brow across from you jumped up slightly - a challenge. You leaped from your seat, but really closed no distance.
"Sy - Give me my phone."
"No."
With another failure of a charged attack, you cried, "Sylus Marie Qin, I swear to God - give me my phone, now!"
All that earned you was a chuckle as he moved around you, easily blocking anything you tried. "Why do you insist on giving me a middle name when you shout?"
"Sounds scarier," you mumbled, as you were shoved off balance into an arm chair.
"Marie sounds scary to you?" he was amused, unbothered. He would take all your anger if it meant it changed how you saw yourself. If it unspooled whatever dark knot was currently wrapped up inside of yourself.
"Full names sound scarier - ack!"
There was a failed launch attempt on your part at the large man, but it ended up in a heap of sharp angled limbs on the couch. Attempting to free yourself only allowed another pair of arms to tighten into a restraint around your waist.
Forcing you still, despite your wiggling.
Forcing you close, until the only thing in your vision was snowy hair and crimson eyes.
Which then rapidly moved forward into your forehead.
"Ouch!" You immediately rubbed at the sore spot, but it had worked. You had finally stilled. Finally focused long enough to listen.
Satisfied of where your attention fell, your restrains loosened enough for you to lean back just a little. "Sweetie, you cannot keep working yourself up over arbitrary numbers. Cannot keep convincing yourself that you are hated or disliked because of things you do not see."
"I.." your fingers twisted together, dropping into your lap, your eyes following suit. You could feel your throat thickening with emotion, and you did your best to swallow it down.
"This happens when you have put too much on yourself, and spread yourself too thin. You start to compare yourself with people who do not have the same level of responsibilities, and start to sink because you cannot do it all."
Your chin is caught between his finger and thumb, and gently pulled upward until your gaze meets again. "You are doing the best that you can, and no one faults you for this. Those that matter will continue to remain, and those that don't aren't worth your time."
A gentle tug had you falling forward into the hard panes of his chest, and limbs slid into habitual places. Instinct had you nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
"I'm sorry." It was a broken whisper - one that felt empty from saying it so often.
"I don't need an apology, beloved." You could feel the words rumble through him.
"You're always the one who has to deal with this, though."
"Yes, but that is because I choose to remain by your side. Good and bad days, whatever they may be, I will always be here."
The lump came back, and you found yourself squeezing your arms around him. "Thank you."
The two of you remained like that for a while, the only sound of two heartbeats and the hum of the vents.
"Sy..."
"Yes?"
"I really was in the middle of one of my friend's fics. Can I please -"
"Tomorrow." There was a finality in his tone that kept you from arguing back. Kept you present in the moment.
You gave in without much hesitation. "Alright. Tomorrow."
Watches you struggle with recreating custom designs, and is always willing to help...with a complaint or two thrown in. Loves to fish and gloats over them in the museum. He'll be damned if his (your) museum's fish section isn't complete by the end of the year.
100% designed your flag to be a pufferfish, queued up your island song to something he loved to sing, and recreated his cardigan for you in the game. Also 100% pouts if your avatar isn't wearing it.
Sylus
Doesn't really have interest in the game, but will sit and watch you play it, because he just enjoys the time with you. Always watches and encourages you as you slowly terraform and create new outfits.
He comes home one day to find you on the bed, glancing between your switch and his leather jacket, only to realize that you have recreated it for your game.
"That way you can still be with me across universes."
He figures out how to play with you after that.
Caleb
Both of you started playing at the same time, and Caleb had no problem at all figuring out the terraforming, custom designing, and completing the museum.
The only part he did not like was that, even though you shared an island, your characters could not live in the same house. That's fine. He would hide his tent away in the farthest corner of the island and redesign yours as if you could.
You play together often.
Zayne
Much like Sylus, he enjoys watching you play. The background music is easy enough to work to. After completing the DLC and being able to control the weather, you turn your island into a little winter wonderland, as similar as you can to where the two of you spent his birthday.
He's very touched by it all. It quickly moves from a game you play alone to one of the many games you play together.
Xavier
Plays with you sometimes - enjoys that he's always successful at cooking in game, and does try to use that to his advantage in real life (it doesn't work.)
He enjoys the soundtrack, and, more often than not, doze on your lap to it.
One time, though, you found that some of the custom designers online had recreated a Lumiere outfit and, giggling, had added it to your custom designs.
It took him longer than you expected for him to notice your avatar running around in it. (He deleted it when you went to sleep, and put you in a hoodie that matched his instead.)
Sylus noticed it the moment the resonated; wrong. Not forced, not like at the beginning, but with what was produced.
It was too thin, the ends of a rope splitting apart.
His brow furrowed, gaze shifting, and he was running - sprinting before fully processing the scene.
She was falling, and the Wanderer was diving.
His Evol lept to life, angry and jagged, as the red and black mists circled the Wanderer and crushed it into nothing the same time her weight fell into his arms.
She looked asleep - a type of serene that seemed a deep contrast to the battle happening around them.
His soul was screaming in a way it hadn’t before. Not with her.
And then he was up - long legs sprinting as his mist took out threats without hesitation. One after another - straight through the core.
Mind separated from body; one pushing forward out of instinct, the other already planning next steps with one half, whispering words of comfort with the other.
Did she hear him? He was unsure, but he had to try. Gods he had to try.
Her pulse was slow, too slow, that he could tell as he buckled her into the passenger seat. No visible wounds, no bruising he could see.
With one hand knocking back the gear shift and the tires peeling out from the asphalt, he swallowed back the fear that sat lodged in his throat like a stone.
It had to be her heart this time.
"Call Zayne Li."
The five of them, when they realized how the all orbited the same star, the same sun, had decided to privately exchange numbers the next time they crossed paths.
It was precautionary, they had told themselves. Just in case, although none of them dared to voice the just in case part out loud.
The doctor answered in two rings. Listened. Hung up - already rushing from his office to the nurses on staff, orders falling from his lips with tactical precision.
The had five minutes to prepare for an incoming emergency - patient was female, early twenties, most likely suffering from advanced protocore syndrome.
Just another case, he told himself. Just another case - and if he said it enough, maybe he could convince himself. Convince his hands not to shake and his pulse to thrum like bees under his skin.
When the doors open, the team moved. None of them glanced at the white haired demon that had carried her in, shirt torn, but no visible wounds himself.
They swarmed the gurney he laid her on, moving together like skittering bug deeper into the hospital.
And for a long moment, Sylus stood there, processing while simultaneously trying not to think about anything but what to do next.
The charge nurse, a kind woman with dark hair, waited for his acknowledgement. Told him scripted platitudes and comforts that he did not hear, while a hand gestured to the waiting area.
Sterile. Off white walls with grey thin-cushioned chairs.
Too small chairs, he realized with a grunt as he tried to sit. It was fine, he needed to move anyway. Needed something he could control.
They came not long after each call. Her Hunter partner. The Artist. The Colonel.
They said nothing, all waiting in a variety of still life poses for whatever news was to come. Each quite sure of what would be said.
Each pair of eyes in turn took a glance at the wall clock, as the dark hands pushed slowly around the face.
An hour.
Three.
Four and a half.
The admittance door opened with a gentle hush, as the Doctor stepped through, still dressed in surgical scrubs, pulling the mask off his face.
The protest of the too small chairs being abandoned was louder than his steps.
He looked exhausted, gave a heavy sigh before, "She's alive. Stable. I'll show you to her recovery room soon." Zayne continued to push through, worried his voice would give if he didn't get it all out in one breath.
"The crystals in her heart were no bigger than before, but we have gone ahead and removed them. Just in case. At this point, it's up to her."
"So you're saying that you don't actually know what's wrong with her, then?" There was a sharpness in Caleb's voice, and, while, directed as a weapon toward the doctor, had been created out of hours of silent fear.
Zayne's jaw twitched in anger at his own answer. "No."
He fielded questions to the best of his ability until Sylus had the decency to stop the bombardment of questions from the other two.
Finally, they were led further in toward a private room, Sylus at the end, ordering the doctor's favorite drink discreetly on the app for the coffee shop down the street.
It was much too small to fit five men of their size, but they made it work - a game of human tetris. The pieces rotated to the best of the ability, each being allowed a few moments next to her, whispering secrets and sweet nothings in hopes it would coax her back to here.
To them.
Sylus was the last, as he often was, not that he minded. It gave him time to think. To carefully and selectively choose words and phrases meant only for the woman on the bed.
And yet, as he took seat in yet, another thinly cushioned chair by the bed, the words became a jumbled mess, and he found nothing to say at all.
Instead, he took her hand, which seemed much smaller and so much colder, into his larger one, and waited. Willed the universe and fate to give them just a little longer.
Not again, not again, not again.
You stirred to noise - a consistent beeping that was just shy of being an ear agitating pitch. Eyelids felt cemented shut as you fought through the heaviness that was in your bones, mind slowly piecing things back together.
Beeping - a hospital? Damn, that box must have hit your head harder than you thought. Rita was gunna be pissed you were having to take worker's comp for something as silly as a damn restock.
A sound escaped your throat, dry and croak-like, as you finally forced your eyes open.
The room around you was a blur of color - browns and blues and purples. Blinking repeatedly to clear your eyes, you turned toward your left, aware of a pressure around your hand.
There, before you, head tilted and grey brows furrowed, sat an unearthly beauty that normally you only had the pleasure of viewing on the other side of a glass screen.
You blinked again. He blinked back, ruby eyes darkening into a dangerous crimson.
Oh, you hit your head hard.
His hand pulled back from yours, whole body following suit as he recoiled away from you.
Your own brows furrowed this time in confusion, the lines deepening even more at his next statement.
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Those three words have never been easy to say - the weight of them too much for the two of you to bare at the beginning. So, instead, you said it in other ways. Layers to cover the sticky, messy irreversible fact that was too terrifying to voice out loud.
"I don't mind being used by you." I love you.
"I'll be there anytime you need me." I love you.
"A man's heart goes to where his treasure is." I love you.
"I have you." I love you.
"If you're not there, then I'm not interested." I love you.
"Claim me and my territory." I love you.
"Actions speak louder than words." I love you.
"No matter how outrageous your reason might be, I'll do whatever you want with you." I love you.
"Shivanika, shivanika, shivanika." I love you, I love you, I love you.
"You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine."
So when the words finally slipped out - the raw truth in a triplet - you didn't blink. Didn't sputter or panic like you thought would happen.
Your heartbeat synchronized with his for one beat. Then two.
Something internally finally cracked and gave way, a freedom in those morphemes that held just as much power as any touch - any action. A voiced decision - declaration.
"I love you."
And in those quiet seconds that moved each as their own eternities, you moved, stepping forward, a hand around his neck to pull him close - lips barely apart so they shared the same breath, and finally set the truth free.
It was a small thing, truly, but you both loved it.
Once a week was Game night. You ordered from a local restaurant and his favorite bakery, pulled out a few games, and just spent time together.
Phones were flipped on the table - as much as Zayne wanted to fully turn his off, you understood why he could not.
It was perfect. Quiet. Exactly what the two of you needed to decompress after long, arduous type weeks.
The problem was the last few weeks, game night hadn't happened. Heck, the two of you lived together and you could count on one hand how many times you had properly seen your boyfriend, let alone had a conversation with the man.
You had tried, truly, to not let it get to you, but at some point the loneliness began to gnaw at you - you missed him. Desprately
How could you not? That quiet, grounding presence, a constant in the chaos of life. Not to mention physically.
Tara had dragged you out to lunch one day, convinced a proper meal would be what you needed to lift your spirits when you saw it. A variety of 'pocket games' that were up next to the register.
'Great for traveling!' the sales clerk told you. One in particular caught your eye, and a plan formed in your mind.
You were going to have game night one way or another.
The first step would be to figure out his schedule, which Yvonne was always more than happy to provide - with an additional note that the cafeteria was carrying his favorite dessert this day, too.
Perfect. Less to do. The hospital cafeteria food was decent enough, the dessert would be a lovely bonus.
He was gone before you woke...or maybe he never made it home. It was hard to tell some days. Still, that allowed you time to dress in one of his favorite, appropriate, outfits and add a spritz or two of a scent that usually had his nose tracing up your neck the moment the two of you were left alone.
There was a giddiness as you drove, an eagerness that bubbled in your belly, almost like the first time you officially went on a date. This time, however, you planned on sweeping him off his feet. Just a little.
The doors hissed open, and you greeted Yvonne warmly, confirming that your partner had yet to come down to his office for lunch. He always did - just to have a moment of quiet in an otherwise chaotic day.
You waited outside the door, leaning near his name plate, and having a pleasant conversation with Yvonne as you waited.
It was only a few minutes before he appeared, dressed in his blue scrubs, eyes scrolling through a tablet of information.
Absolutely unfair how he managed to even make scrubs look sexy, but you may have been a little biased.
His eyes perked up at the site of you, steps slowly as if he needed to take an extra moment to make sure his own eyes weren't playing a trick on him.
"Hi." It was a warm greeting, despite the bags you saw under his eyes. A light click told you the tablet had been locked.
"Hi," you greeted back, eagerness dissolving into nerves. Surely he wouldn't think this was a stupid idea.
But the smile he gave you was kind, and he reached for the door as his attention remained on you. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I just miss you," you said with a shrug, following him inside as the door shut behind you and he headed for his desk.
He dropped the tablet on the lacquered surface, leaning back causally against it. It was only then that he also let his face fall. "I know. I'm sorry. There's been more cases as of late -"
"And they need the best of the best, I understand, really, Zayne. I do. But," you stepped forward, feet straddling his outstretched ones, "I got tired of missing you. So I decided to do something about it."
He let out a light chuckle. "Did you now? And what exactly have you decided to do."
"Bring game night to you!" You said confidently, holding up the tiny game. "I know that you don't get a lot of breaks right now, so the cafeteria is the better option, and Yvonne said they have that parfait that you like - with the whipped cream and the berries on top, so...I thought maybe we could spend your lunch together."
It had come out in a rush, nerves kicking into a slightly higher gear as you said the full idea out loud - breath caught in your lungs as you waited for his answer.
And then the corner of his mouth tipped upward an almost nonexistent amount.
"I'd like that."
It was a simple game, one you could play while eating.
The goal was to build a campfire together out of the given blocks. There was a base, and then you each took a turn to flip over a card that had a specific order of blocks that you had to stack on the 'logs'.
There was one catch - you could only do so with the tweezers that were provided.
It took a couple of rounds for you to figure out the system, but by the third your stack would make it pretty far before tumbling down.
Of course - Zayne had won every round. This wasn't too surprising given his job, and it did allow you the added bonus of watching one of your favorite parts of his body without pretense.
Well...you thought it did, but your boyfriend was always sharp. He had called you out on the fourth round, when a sigh had slipped passed your lips as you watched how the tendons moved beneath the skin as he moved with precision.
Hazel eyes still on the game, he asked, “Is this an excuse for you to watch my hands?”
Soft laughter appeared as you answered too quickly, “No….but they just happen to be in view while I watch you stack the blocks.”
"Ah, of course."
This round was lasting much longer than previously, and, the longer and longer you watched him move. His fingers flex, the muscles in his forearm twitch, the more a different heat began to grow deep in your belly.
Gods, when was the last time he had touched you? The two of you had kissed? Parfait wasn't usually a go to dessert for you, but you could think of something dressed in scrubs that was much more appealing to your current appetite.
"I was thinking...maybe this could be the last round? Winner takes all...in your office?" Your voice lowering to a conspiratory whisper on the last phrase.
Those hazel eyes narrowed at you. "Behave."
"I am."
Your turn again, this card revealing the requirement using a combination of a red and yellow block. With a steady hand, you used the tweezers to pull requirements free of the tin, stacking them neatly on the table.
Slowly, still struggling to find that perfect pressure in squeezing the plastic tweezers where they wouldn't launch the blocks across the table, you lifted them, moving it to the growing 'fire'.
A dark brow quirked at where your hand moved, already aware of the ruse you were about to pull. Carefully, purposefully, you dropped the blocks on an uneven log, causing the whole thing to topple over.
A Cheshire grin graced your lips. "Oops."
Hazel eyes narrowed, but then quickly dipped to his watch, nodding to himself. "I still have time before my next appointment."
The line confused you for where you thought this was going. "Time?"
"To discuss wrist strengthening exercises for you. Based on that last move, the muscles in your arm may need some training."
Oh. OH.
You were quick to tidy up, not that it took much, slipping the game tin back into your jacket pocket as you ran to catch up to the man already a few steps ahead.
Zayne's voice was low as you turned the corner, just loud enough for you to hear. "It's imperative you follow my instructions exactly, of course, to ensure proper improvement."
Paring: Sylus x Reader
Rating: G
Story Content: Just snuggling Sylus fluff
Word Count: 414
A/N: This isn't a Choices We Make update (we haven't made it that far into the story yet), but @himbodruid 's SylusMC cuddle art has been living rent free in my head for a hot minute, and so I finally decided to finally write something for it! (Also that line from Catch-22 has been making me feral)
The chill of the evening was chased away by the thick duvet you had snuggled under in the large, king sized bed. Propped up by pillows, a book in hand - it was a perfect way to end your day.
"You're still awake?" The deep voice came from the doorway as Sylus slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
"Mmhmm - it's a good part of the book, so I'm not - hey, Sy!"
The large man had flung the blanket off of you, the cold air causing goosebumps to rise on every visible surface of your skin. With a squeal, you were dragged partially down by your ankle, but before you could let out a complaint, Sylus was crawling over you, only to collapse down when his head reached your stomach.
A small 'umph' escaped you as his full weight settled on your lower half - large hands reaching around and resting on your back, locking you in place. His human pillow. A heavy sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes.
Without a second thought, your fingers slipped through his white tresses. "Bad day?"
His answer was no more than a grunt.
You continued the motion, only this time you stopped your hand at the back of his head and gently scratched at his scalp. A groan is what escaped him this time. "That feels…good."
The tension slipped out of his muscular frame inch by inch, sinking you both into the bed a little more. As minutes slipped past, Sylus' breathing slowed considerably and when gentle snores reached your ears, you knew he was finally asleep.
It was impressive he didn't wake while you struggled to reach toward the crumpled duvet, just managing to catch the edge in your fingertips to pull it back over both of you. Picking up your book, you held it in one hand, your other still slowly playing with the silky soft white hair of your partner.
Eventually, your own eyes started to droop and, after marking your spot, you set your novel down to the side of you and leaned forward, kissing the top of Sylus' head before whispering, "Sweet dreams, my love." And then you settled back into the pillows, missing the sleepy smile that appeared on the face below you.
Between the warmth of the two of you under the blanket, and the comforting weight on top of you, you fell asleep quickly. Both of you sleeping better than you had in a long while.
