Belong | AO3
Summary: Sylus spends the night at Severine’s apartment for the first time. Rating: Mature Words: 962 Tags: Named MC, POV Third Person, Domestic Fluff, Implied Sexual Content Notes: Originally posted to AO3 on January 17, 2025. I initially wrote this two days before Nightly Rendezvous began and inadvertently kinda predicted the beginning of Night of Secrecy. I have a witness! That said, this fic doesn't take place during that memory.
The first time Sylus spends the night at her apartment, Severine can’t help but think he looks a bit… out of place.
She’s used to seeing him amidst the grandeur of his own home in the N109 Zone, where the tall ceilings and large furniture accommodate his height, and the dark and moody decor feels like an extension of his wardrobe. There, he blends in. Seamlessly. Effortlessly.
Here, he sticks out like a sore thumb. He needs to duck his head every time he walks through her bathroom door, and she snickers when she first sees him surrounded by the colorful assortment of plushies on her sofa. Later, when he drifts off to sleep before she does, his feet dangle off the end of her bed.
The next morning, his side of the bed is already empty when Severine wakes up, sheets still rumpled. Groggy, she lifts her head from the pillow and rubs her eyes as she looks around the room, wondering where Sylus wandered off to. Faint clattering sounds from the kitchen and the smell of food being cooked soon answer her question and finally pull her out of bed.
His back is turned to her when she shuffles into the kitchen. He looks even taller in here, she realizes, hunched over her stove the way he is. With only a black tee shirt and boxers on, his legs seem to go on for miles. Her eyes travel up the length of his body to the unkempt mop of silver hair atop his head, and she smiles.
Sylus flinches when she comes up behind him and pokes him in the ribs. He lets out a low chuckle.
“Good morning to you too,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.
Wrapping her arms around his waist, Severine rests her cheek against his broad back. Sylus shifts his weight to his other leg and casts a brief glance at her over his shoulder.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
“Very.” She nuzzles against the soft cotton of his shirt much like a cat would. “What’s for breakfast?”
He switches off the stove and gives whatever he is frying up a careful toss.
“Only the freshest and finest eggs, of course,” he answers. “If the marketing on the carton is to be believed.”
Severine releases him and takes a step back. She smiles a little wider when he turns to face her and she has to crane her neck to look up at him. Sylus gives her a small smile in return, but then a slight crease forms along his brow.
“What?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
Unconvinced, Sylus snorts with laughter. “Oh?”
She doesn’t get a chance to reply. Sylus draws her back to him with a hand at her waist and rests the other behind her head. His body is strong and sturdy against hers, and so she leans into him, eager to be engulfed by the warmth of his embrace.
“I know that look.” He dips his head and noses at the spot behind her ear. “That’s not a ‘nothing’ smile, sweetie.”
Severine squirms at the ticklish feeling and presses her palms to his chest, but Sylus doesn’t let her get away that easily. She giggles when he begins to trail warm, fleeting kisses down the side of her neck.
“Am I not allowed to look at you?”
“Mm, look all you want,” he murmurs into her shoulder. He moves her hair to the side. “Just tell me what you’re looking for.”
The heat of his breath fanning across her skin is more enticing than it has any right to be. His next few kisses coax more gentle laughter out of her, and her mind starts to feel fuzzy around the edges. She could so easily lose herself in this moment—in him—if she wants to. Severine pushes on his chest again, and this time, Sylus relents. He lifts his head and looks down at her expectantly.
She hesitates, and she buys herself some more time by looking up and down the entire length of him. Truthfully, she isn’t sure what to say. You don’t look like you belong here doesn’t exactly inspire romance the morning after a night together.
But he doesn’t belong here. Not really. Not in her tiny kitchen. Not in Linkon. Even Sylus wouldn’t be one to deny that.
And yet he’s still here. For her.
The thought brings another, softer smile to her face. Maybe that really is enough.
“It’s honestly nothing,” she says at last. She gently runs her hand down the front of his chest, fingertips lingering over his heart. “Domesticity just looks good on you. That’s all.”
For a moment, Sylus seems taken aback. He raises his eyebrows, then lowers his gaze to her hand, saying nothing. Severine takes the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and goes to put on a pot of coffee.
Or at least, she tries to.
He’s on her again before she can get very far. He grabs her roughly by the hips, making her stumble forward, and her breath catches when his lips return to her neck.
“I see,” Sylus says, drawing out each syllable. “You think you’ve domesticated me, do you?”
He guides her to the countertop and pushes her against it—and God, he really is so tall, she thinks, his much larger frame looming over her and shrouding her in shadow. A stifled moan spills past her lips, followed by another gasp when Sylus slides his hands beneath her nightshirt.
“Sylus!” Severine laughs, heat rising to her cheeks. “The eggs—”
“Breakfast can wait,” he replies, low and quiet and full of need. He bites down on her shoulder and grins when she rewards him with another moan. “I’m hungry for something else.”
