His Watchful Eye

His Watchful Eye

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, tw vomit, sharp objects, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, drugged reader, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, ownership, Xavier appears for a bit

AN: Hi all! Im SOO excited to be writing this. Its refreshing to add to the lack of yandere fics for the boys! I’m unsure if I will make this multi chaptered but if there’s enough demand I won’t want to disappoint! PLEASE read the tags. This is not for everyone, and if your sensitive to the topics that show up then I would advise skipping this story because I did not hold back and it only gets worse from here! (*^ ‿ <*)♡

"Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue" All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck. Sylus put the spoon down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed. He began unbuckling his belt.

Read part 2, pt 3

When you finally stirred, the first sensation was a throbbing ache in your head, a dull, insistent pulse that seemed to echo through your entire body. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if weighed down by sand, but slowly, you forced them open. The room around you was dimly lit, unfamiliar, and smelled oddly of...alcohol? Shadows clung to the corners, obscuring details, but you could make out the rough texture of black walls and the faint scent bourbon.

Wait...black walls? Your walls were white...

Panic fluttered in your chest as you struggled to remember how you had ended up here, a place so alien that even the faintest memory refused to surface. The soft, yet unfamiliar mattress beneath you sunk with your weight you attempted to sit up quickly, a wave of dizziness threatening to pull you back into the darkness.

"Wha-where…?" you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as your vision remained clouded and unfocused. With a sense of rising unease, you stretched out your hand, groping blindly at the unfamiliar space around you. Timid fingers met the unmistakable feel of cold flesh and you flinched.

Then the flesh spoke.

"Handsy already? I'm a bit shocked" a gruff voice spoke, sounding on the verge of laughter.

You screamed, your hunter training kicking in as you scrambled to leap off the bed and away from the unfamiliar man laying next to you. Your attempt to put distance between the two of you was in vain though, as he quickly yet calmy subdued you. Your world whipped around as you were manhandled beneath a tall and broad man, both of his hands pinning your arms to your sides. You cry obscenities as you squirm under him, tears beginning to pour down your face as you try to figure out the best way to talk-no fight your way out of this.

"Wait...who are you?! Please stop, I'll do anything just let me go!" you screamed, attempting to land another kick at his stomach. This time however, he was prepared. A cold red mist snaked around your leg, freezing it in midair, only to then wrap it firmly in place to the other leg.

"Shh shh, calm down. No need to yell sweetie" he said calmly, as if he was comforting a lost animal. He ran a long cold finger over your face, wiping away a section of tears as you hyperventilate.

"You're safe now. No one and nothing is going to hurt you anymore"

What the fuck is going on?!

You can hardly process his words, much less your own thoughts. Although slightly panicking still, being in your current position gave you a very great view of the mans face above you. He had stern features, a sharp jawline, white hair with grey undertones. But most unnerving of all were his eyes. They were blood red, piercing even. You felt yourself shivering under his gaze.

Is he some kind of monster??

"I-im not supposed to be here sir. I think there's been some kind of mistake or-" you trail off, unsure of what you were going to say next. Clearly there's been some sort of mix up? Sure, you had plenty of people that wanted to kidnap you for your Aether core, but you highly doubt they would be wiping your tears in such a lovingly way as he was doing right now.

"I don't tend to make mistakes sweetie" he calmly replied, cocking his head to the side and giving a slight smile. "I know this is all very sudden, but just trust that you're safe here. Where you belong..."

"Where I-what???" you gasp, breathless at the strange mans words. You attempt to struggle again but to no avail, he has you trapped. Bubbling panic and nausea rise to your core, and you begin to dry heave.

"Im gonna vomit..." you exclaim dizzily, turning your gaze away from the man. He wastes no time getting off of you and helping you up, gently guiding your shaking figure in an unfamiliar direction. Its only when your feet meet cold tile that you realize that not only are you not wearing shoes or socks, but that you're in a huge black tiled bathroom.

However you have no time to take in the details as your eyes meet the sight of a toilet. As if on cue your body does one last dry heave before bile makes its way to your throat. You practically throw yourself onto the toilet mere seconds before your stomachs contents upheaves itself out of your mouth. You clutch it and empty the bitter contents into the toilet for a few short moments, giving a sigh of relief as you finish. With tear stained eyes, you realize your captor hadn't left your side, instead having taken the liberty to rub your back.

"Unfortunately the side affects of the drug couldn't be avoided" he muttered, a slight look of guilt washing over his face. "Come lay back down, you should rest"

"Don't touch me!" you growled, elbowing him in the face as you scrambled to get on your feet to run. He was quick to grab your waist, causing you to tumble down to the floor again with force. Your knees hit the tile and you wince in agony as sharp throbs of pain explode in your knees.

"Ah ah, none of that" the man scolded, quickly lifting your squirming body off the ground with ease. You clawed and kicked at his figure but he barely reacted as he dragged you out of the bathroom and back into what could only be assumed to be his bedroom. Despite your incessant thrashing you were placed on the bed again, sobbing and whining at your dismay.

You lay there dumbfounded, out of breath while he stood there seemingly unaffected. He reaches out a hand towards you, earning a yelp from your throat as you coiled away from him. He ignores this however, placing a few fingers against your forehead. Was he...checking your temp?

"I'll get you an icepack, you're burning up"

It was only a second that he had turned away before you once again leaped out of bed (successfully this time), and dashed for the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. Your eyes lay onto the metal handle and you reach for it, only to be swept off your feet in an instant. A familiar cold red mist envelops your entire body, leaving you weightless in the air. You screamed at the sudden shift in your body's gravity as your captor stood there with his arms crossed.

"I didn't realize you were such a feisty one, kitten" he chuckled. Helplessly your dragged closer and closer until your planted right into his arms. He envelops you, red mist disappearing and instead being replaced by a tight hold on your body. He moves a hand to the back of your head, hushing your tired sobs as he holds your body.

"No need to be running off, you're sick sweetie" his previous smug tone replaced with a gentle one. "Lay down, I won't ask again"

He said this without malice and yet, the hair on your neck stands up. Maybe it was the sudden shift in energy in the room, but all you could do was slowly nod in his embrace. Perhaps, it was better this way. You get the feeling that you shouldn't keep testing him. Yes, when the right moment struck, you could make a run for it?

Right?

He releases his hold on you, and with watchful eyes he guides you to lay down. As you lay on the soft comforter, sobs begin erupting from your mouth once more. What does he want? What is this place?

You want to go home.

"Please sir..hic..,I want to...hic...go home..."you cry, defeatedly sighing in the pillow. It smelled sharp, like men's cologne.

"You can drop the formalities" he sighs, pulling the comforter over your shivering body. "It's Sylus, sweetie."

Sylus.

Why did it sound so unfamiliar yet a creeping sense of familiarity was tingling in your head?

"I have work. I cant miss wor-"

"Im aware of your duties in Linkon. But fret not, you won't have to worry about being the Hunter Association's lacky any longer" he hummed, reaching down to stroke a few strands of your hair. You didn't react to his touch this time, your mind too busy pondering his words, frightfully imagining scenarios of actually being trapped here with him. You pinched yourself hard, desperately hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

Reality.

It was hitting you hard and fast.

Sylus wasn't exactly the type of man to have time to have relationships. His life was far too fast and demanding. And even if he did have the time, no doubt that as soon as word got out that he had someone he cared about, they would be snatched and held for ransom, probably killed in the process. So he had resigned himself to this life full of nonstop head swiveling and danger. The only people he could ever trust with absolute certainty was his henchmen, Luke and Kieran.

Ah, Mephisto as well. Though he was his own creation. Why wouldn't he be able to trust him? He was skillfully programmed, the bird couldn't tell a lie even if he tried. But despite having his own man mad companion (Mephisto hated being called a pet) Sylus still felt a certain longing. Even someone as cold and hardened as him couldn't escape it. He actually hadn't given it much thought until he was grazing through Mephisto's footage one day.

A man that had sold him a subpar protocore was hiding from him. Sylus had known from the start but sometimes he liked to play little games with his prey. He wanted to see if the man actually had the guts to lie to the leader of Onychinus. And lo and behold. Sylus could barely hold back a grin when shaking the man's hand to seal the deal, who was wistfully unaware of the torment to come his way in the next few days.

He would pay back the "stolen" money in blood.

So while he had Mephisto tracking the mans every move, eyeing his every turn and twist. He had happened to catch a glimpse of a girl his victim had bumped into by accident in Linkon. She was extremely apologetic, helping pick up the scattered belongings he had dropped. Sylus leaned in close, trying to get a better look at the woman. She scrambled the belongings in her arms and sheepishly handed the stuff back to the glaring man, who had not even said a word to her. It wasn't until she smiled sheepishly at him that Sylus froze.

This feeling.

He couldn't exactly place it but it was foreign. But what he did know how to do, was gather information. He quickly directed Mephisto to follow his new "target".

He would deal with that man later. This girl, this random, insignificant girl had caught his attention. And he would figure out why. He was very good at problem solving. This issue would be over soon. She was just another average Linkon citizen after all, she couldn't be that interesting. He would get bored soon.

He watched as the man spat vulgarities at her, quickly rushing past her as soon as his belongings were returned. She gave a defeated sigh as she continued walking. He noted the uniform she was wearing, the puzzle pieces clicking in his head she approached a tall window filled building.

"A hunter?" he questioned, leaning forward a bit to see the screen better. "Mephisto, zoom in please".

Doing as the bird was told, he zoomed in on the woman, her badge coming into clear view. Just as he thought, she was part of the infamous Hunter's Association. It didn't take long to pull the name from her badge and pull up every single piece of information he could find in the "deep web" database.

Relatively new to the association but already on one of the best divisions. Impressive. Maybe she was no "ordinary" girl after all. Since he couldn't send Mephisto into the building, he entertained himself reading up on her, finding out everything he could find about her. Medical records, previous addresses, socials, etc.

Mephisto signaled to him that she had left the building and he promptly turned his attention to his camera again. She walked out with a slightly bubbly, shorter haired girl. The pair were deeply engrossed in conversation before an ashy blonde fellow joined them and touched the girls arm.

Sylus froze. Who was this? And why was he touching her with such ease and tenderness? Mephisto, as if reading his mind, zoomed in. The man was only a bit taller than her, and a somewhat leanish build. Sylus watched him interact with the girl intensely, he wasn't sure why but he felt the hairs on his neck stand stiffen when the man made contact. His blue gaze was soft and inviting and she seemed to be reciprocating well.

Sylus watched as they both bid farewell to the other short haired girl, making their way towards the subway station. They were both going in the same direction?

This was once confirmed once they both got off at the same stop, walking the same path towards a set of shiny apartment buildings. She laughed at something the man said, and touched his shoulder tenderly.

Sylus felt his stomach churn. He wasn't sure why but seeing her this close to this soft gazed man was eliciting dangerous urges in him. The pair both went up the stairs, and out of his view.

It didn't matter. He would find your apartment number with ease. Even if it meant having Mephisto perched on the same tree branch for days. Sylus questioned his sanity for just a bit. Was he really getting this worked up over a woman he had simply happened to glance at? He closed his eyes before chuckling.

Yeah. This wasn't normal, no. But nothing about Sylus was ever normal anyways. Why would this be any different?

And so the following weeks were spent on nothing but you. He'd eventually mustered the courage to see you in person (at a distance of course) and watch you a few feet away. Your voice was even more beautiful in person. And the sounds you would make when trying new sweets illicited very...intense reactions in his lower groin. He watched you and your female coworker eating sweets at a bakery. You moaned in delight as you chewed a frosting covered pastry, a bit of the white frosting dribbling down your chin. You and your friend giggled as you wiped it up, all the while Sylus felt like he was about to burst in public.

How could a scene so innocent get him going so much?

"Oh! I have to go! I have a hair appointment! Bye Tara!"

You hurriedly hugged the girl before licking your fingers and sprinting off. Sylus quickly and quietly followed behind.

Eventually, he would find his way into your apartment when he knew you were out on missions. Not to do anything creepy, but to get a more personal look into your life. That didn't stop him rummaging through your clothes however. Your taste was just what he was expecting based on your socials. He would take mental note of it before putting everything back the way it was. It was taking a toll on him. The more he spent thinking about you and peeking through your things, the more he longed for you.

There was no way he could court you in the traditional way though. It was far too dangerous. The second word went around that he had someone special, someone with an Aether Core at that...it would be over. His love would be killed, or worse, kidnapped and taken. Tortured more than likely.

The fact that you even had one made him fall even more quickly in love. You both were clearly meant to be. Two halves yet to be connected. Was this fate? Or mere delusion? He didn't care anymore. He would have you, even if it took drastic measure. You would have to remain oblivious to all of this, to him until the time was right.

That's what he thought until, you had seen him lurking behind you in the grocery store. He had adverted his gaze but it was far too late. He had gotten too close. You approached him, making his heart rate excel. Still, he kept a calm gaze.

"Are you following me?" you spat, eyeing him up and down. He simply laughed, which caught you off guard.

"I'm merely going in the same direction" he calmly said, rubbing his fingers together. "I guess that's all it takes to catch a stalking charge these days?"

You blinked a few times before sheepishly smiling. "Ah, I'm sorry...I'm a bit jumpy these days..." you laughed and extended your hand before introducing yourself.

I already know your name. He wanted to say but he stopped himself.

"Sylus" he quickly said, shaking your hand back. Your touch felt like fire in the freezer department of the grocery store.

He was in heaven. Him, someone who was far from human and closer to the devil himself was experiencing bliss. He wasn't even sure why he told you his real name. Maybe a part of him wanted you to know and accept the real him.

"Well Mr. Stalker, I have to be off. Have a good day, sorry again" you sheepishly joked, bowing a bit before grabbing your cart to leave. He almost reached out and grabbed you, longing for you not to leave.

Soon, he thought. He just needed a little longer for some preparations first. Soundproofing, a little,more security, tools...etc.

But once again, it seems that time wasn't on his side. One night while keeping Mephisto at a distance to watch your apartment, you and the ashy blonde boy had walked down the stairs together and stopped to chat. Immediately on edge, he ordered Mephisto to zoom in.

"Xavier shouldn't you be asleep at this time? Why are we getting food at a time like this?"

"I didn't get to eat today. Besides, I know you didn't either. Makes sense to go together right?" he said, a slight smile appearing on his face. Sylus felt that eerily similar feeling of disgust settle in his stomach.

"Yes but...what were you wanting to tell me? Certainly you don't have to drag me all the way out to a convivence store to do so right?" you giggled, fixing the zipper on your jacket.

"Just two stops. Food, and then the park. Then I'll tell you. Deal?"

"So mysterious as always..." you sighed, a small smile appearing.

Sylus was no idiot. He knew what this was. A ploy to get the girl to a secluded place and do god knows what. He clenched his hand in a fist, a glare washing over his gaze. It was time. Whether he wanted it to be or not.

"Luke, Kieran" he called out, standing up to put his own coat on. "Prepare those items I requested."

Now or nothing.

And that's how you ended up here. After your little rendezvous with Xavier, you had giddy come back to your apartment like a teenager in love. That's when the twins had ambushed you, forcing two little white pills down your throat much to your dismay. They (carefully) by Sylus's instruction, had taken your phone and other belongings to make it look like you had packed up and left. No one, not even Xavier had an inkling that unconscious you was being loading into a black car and whisked away to the N109 Zone.

And here you are now, thrashing, screaming insults and vulgar names in his bed. Nearly a week had passed and you still hadn't calmed down. You wouldn't eat either, refusing any and all attempts at food. When you were exhausted from screaming and thrashing, you would wake up sometimes as early as 7 am and attempt to open windows and the door much to Sylus's dismay.

You were like a scared cat in a corner, hissing and swiping her claws when she got the chance. And its not like Sylus hadn't tried to tame you. He certainly had been trying to comfort you, hold you and even spoon feed you himself.

All you would do is scream and hit him. Beg for freedom, beg for release. It hurt him. He could give you anything and you were begging for the one thing he couldn't afford to give you.

Freedom.

You started to shrink in your clothes naturally. Sure you would take a few bites here and there to satiate the primal need for food but it wasn't enough. You grew weaker and weaker and he couldn't take it anymore.

He started sneaking Rohypnol into your water. A date rape drug, yes but it was so effective. You went from a defiant and screaming girl to a giggly and obedient kitten for him. He'd spoon feed you while you sat dissociating in his lap.

"Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue"

All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck.

Sylus put the spoon down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed.

He began unbuckling his belt.

There was one more effect of the drug that was the most important to him. It wasn't considered a date rape drug for nothing. It rendered you completely helpless to his advances. You wouldn't fight him, just blush and moan when he touched you. When he pushed his long dexterous fingers in your pulsing cunt, you would squeal and whine. When he inevitably would climb on top of you, pushing his cock inside your tight walls, you would grab him already nearing a climax.

He wasn't a monster. Or at least that's what he was telling himself. He wasn't doing this for pleasure but with purpose. He looked down at your pleasure stricken face, listening to your mewls as if it were a choir singing. He pushed himself deeper in you, overcome with insatiable lust. His pace only kept getting more rigorous as he neared his end.

He wanted a baby.

He wanted a baby in your womb.

His baby.

He craved normalcy. Even if it meant things had to be a little rough right now, but this was for your own good. You'd be so happy and obedient with his seed planted in your womb. A baby growing, tits swelling, stomach so big you can't see your own feet. That's what he wanted for you. For the both of you.

He gripped your waist as he plunged himself into you for the final time, white hot seed painting your insides a creamy white. You writhed underneath him, clearly coming to your own end. Your walls tightened over his still hard cock and he groaned.

He can't let you leave the bed until your pregnant.

It wasn't working though. Almost daily pregnancy tests yielded no results. You were starting to wise up to his antics it seems as well. He had been cleaning you up well so you were none the wiser when you slept off your drug hazed state. But you were smarter than you looked.

"Can I have bottled water?"

Sylus freezes, the half full glass in his hand. "Why? I'm holding a glass right here"

"The tap water tastes weird..." You lied, forcing a grin. "I want bottled water now". Sylus rubbed his fingers to his forehead and sighed.

"I can guarantee the tap water here is the purest you can find, it shouldn't taste weird"

You both made eye contact and you glared at him. Something was off with that water. The way he was so insistent for you to drink it made you nervous. And the way you couldn't remember a lot of your nights here was off. An aching feeling between your legs and a headache was all that remained. You had a feeling and it wasn't good.

"No thanks" you said plainly. "You've probably put something in it to kill me"

Sylus couldn't help but scoff. This girl and her ridiculousness.

"Why would I go through all the trouble of bringing you here just to kill you? Don't be ridiculous sweetie" he laughed, pushing the glass further into her face.

"Drink it".

"No".

Sylus's gaze darkened. He was a man of patience yes, but this girl just kept testing and testing. Who gave her the right? He does everything for her and yet she wont even drink a glass of water? He let out an uneven sigh, his patience fading.

"Kitten, last time I'm asking" he warned, pushing the glass in her face once more.

"I said..." she starts, taking the glass from his hand much to his relief. But the look in her face changes to contempt to angry, and in one fluid motion she's flung the glass in his direction. He dodges it, but not by much. Water clings to his shirt and glass shatters on the floor.

"Don't call me that" she finishes, a smug look adorning her face. She's won. Or so she thought. Sylus flashes a quick angry glare before quickly going back to an expressionless state.

?

"Maybe I've been too nice to you" Sylus says plainly, his words bleeding obvious malice. You freeze, realizing you weren't going to get away with an outburst today.

"Wait...Im sorry" you say shakily, beginning to lean down to pick up the glass. "I'll clean it up Im so so-"

He grabs your arm and yanks you roughly back to your feet. You scream, the birth control implant bulging to the surface in your arm where he grabbed.

"Don't bother" he growls.

"Ow! My birth control!" you scream, tugging at his hand. He freezes, a confused look washing over him. He lets go of his grip and examines your arm, poking around it. Sure enough, a hard line appeared on the girls arm. It all made sense now. Of course his seed wasn't taking.

"You didn't tell me about this. No wonder it wasn't working" he muttered.

"What? What wasn't working???" you exclaim, trying to yank your arm away. He held on though, staring intently at your implant. You can't tell what he was thinking and it was making you nervous.

"This needs to come out"

"No no no no" you shiver, pleading with him. "Its fine! Its probably expiring soon anyways I think!". Barely processing the fact that Sylus desires you to carry his child, you fear for your life and body.

Sylus doesn't respond, instead looking up to meet your eyes. As he stared at your scared expression he sighed. You had been making things very difficult for him. He just wanted to love you, spoil you, fuck you full of his cum.

All you had to do was sit around looking pretty and bare his children and you would have everything you could ever wish for. Was that so hard? Now there was this obstacle and it was ruining everything.

He saw red. He knew what needed to be done.

"S-sylus?"

He calmly looked down at the floor of scattered glass and settled on the biggest piece. Your eyes widened in horror and you tried with every ounce of strength possible to get out of his grip.

"Sylus!!! Please!! I can get it removed! Don't-"

Your cries are muffled by some kind of cloth he produced from his pocket as he backs you against the bed. You fall back first against the plush mattress, but before you can get any footing to get back up his on top of you. Your muffled screams can be heard despite the cloth as his evol snakes to hold you and your arm firmly in place.

He leans down over your petrified form, examining the piece of glass in his hands. After giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. He takes the sharp tip of the glass and press it slightly but firmly underneath the skin where your implant lies.

"Im doing this for us. Be still sweetie"

You scream.

He cuts.

Credit/artist: @莫子文

I am fucking dying at these knockoff Love & Deepspace ‘plushies’ on AliExpress

xavier and mc both being comic book nerds 😭 she’s been reading the in-word version of one piece lskdljaldj

Roleplay, Undercurrents, and Rising Curtain: Sylus's POV

It really bothers me in the game that the clearly traumatic experiences MC undergoes in the canon storyline don't seem to have any consequences for MC's character development. Yes, yes, this is a self-insert gacha mobile game, blah blah. MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's issues.

Third person POV (Sylus), second person POV (gender-neutral reader/MC) CWs: violence, murder, foul language, cursing, mentions of trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, Sylus is giddy being able to be near MC again even though MC is still mean to him

SFW if you think murder and Sylus's singing is SFW

ao3 link here

He is watching you from the shadowed doorway as you examine yourself in the mirror. He can almost see your mind tick, tick, ticking away, evaluating the quality of your costume for tonight, the slight frown on your face betraying your uncertainty that you, and he, will be able to pull tonight off and emerge on the other side in one piece.

He is used to this type of soirée, a viper’s den wrapped in velvet and silk, the veneer of civility paper-thin, where one wrong look or clumsy response can cost you your reputation, or much, much more. And as a betting man, he’d gamble that you, on the other hand, are not used to this type of gathering at all. You who are straightforward, with your fangs bared and guns blazing, the honesty palpable in your bright eyes and laughter, in your scowl and impatience and eagerness.

He steps into the light, revealing his presence to you through the mirror, and watches as you turn to him, draped in scarlet, and a pulse of satisfaction has his lips lifting. You look delicious, with your head tilted haughtily, the red jewels flashing from your neck and wrists. Your outfits match, and you’re dripping in stones and fabric the color of his eyes. He hasn’t felt this sense of satiation in a long, long time. He pins the brooch above your heart and looks into your eyes, and it doesn’t matter that even though you know the truth now, you are still looking at him with the cold unfamiliarity of someone constantly assessing the possible threat in every gesture he makes. It doesn’t matter that even though he’s helping you, you’re still treating him like the enemy, when it is everyone outside these walls who threaten you, and he is currently the only one defending the gates and preparing to shatter the siege.

None of that matters. Because you’re right here, finally. You’re allowing him to touch you, as he smooths the fabric around where he has just pinned the brooch, your heartbeat strong and steady under his palm—you’re reaching out to him, sliding your hand in his; he can’t feel your skin through your gloves but he can feel your heat at his side, in his palm. He will ensure that, with time, the look in your eyes changes when you feel him appear behind you, when your palms touch.

You say something biting to him, full of doubt, the wariness and spite palpable, and he revels in how safe you must feel with him already to extend your claws around him like this, to be reckless and treat him like an insufferable puppy that you’re forced to indulge instead of the half-feral wolf that he is to so many others. The progress from hate and fear from just a few days ago, to this snarky impatience is intoxicating, better than any gin fizz or successful wager—it’s faster than he had calculated as the blood poured from his heart and you spitefully jammed your palms into his chest in an attempt to stem the flow.

In short, Sylus is in a great mood tonight and he’s looking forward to exterminating the rest of the vermin that have been gnawing away at the foundations of his house in his long absence. And he’s going to make damn well sure that he gets to dance with you before the fireworks truly begin.

***

Things are going according to plan—he snickers, recalling that this plan is the one you accused him of not having. He will show you, in time, that he always has plans, with backup plans, and backups to the backup plans. He can forgive you for not knowing that about him yet. But you’re the only person he’s in a forgiving mood toward tonight. He has deposited you safely at the bidding room of the auction, the subtle glow of the protocores illuminating the lovely line of your haughtily upturned nose as you sauntered away from him clutching his black card, the other guests whispering in a painfully unsubtle manner behind their hands, speculating about who you are and the nature of your relationship to him. Mine, he had declared, as he handed over his proverbial wallet and told you to have fun.

As he strides down the dimly lit hall of the hotel in which the auction is being held, the deep carpet shushing his purposeful steps, he spots one of Sherman’s minions standing at attention at a closed door and can’t prevent the excitement rushing through him. He is so close to the craven idiot who dared act in his name, who sowed discord in his ranks, who hurt you so terribly and deprived you of your ‘family’, who, regardless of Sylus’s opinion of them, you clearly loved deeply. He is eager to kill two birds with one stone (apologies to Mephisto): wipe Sherman’s existential stain off this plane of existence, clean his house, avenge your loss, and be back to dance with you in a matter of minutes. The lackey finally notices him, begins lifting his wrist to speak into his earpiece, but unfortunately for him, he is little too late, as Sylus’ evol jerks him into the air by his neck—he is about to tighten it to snap the fuck’s spine in two when he hears your gorgeous voice through his own earpiece.

He pauses, suddenly anxious that something has gone wrong for you that and you’re in danger and that he’s not there, when he hears you say, “Do you mind if I use your card to buy one of these protocores?”

He shakes his head a little. Did he just hear you correctly? He might have to re-evaluate his estimation of your intelligence. He will continue to adore you even if you’re a little slow; your other qualities more than make up for any deficiencies in the intelligence department. Because why the fuck else would he hand you the equivalent of unfettered access to his bank account and tell you to have fun? Of course you can buy whatever the hell you want with it. But he knows you’re clever; the way you meet and counter his sarcasm, taunts and challenges without hesitation makes that clear. And you wouldn’t have survived for this long, risen to one of the elite teams in the Association’s ranks, if you were an imbecile. But he is busy, your sudden question made him anxious for you, and he's frothing at the mouth to get back to you to claim his dance.

“Do not bother me with such trivial matters!” he hisses into his own earpiece, and watches as the eyes of the idiot, who he still has by the throat, bulge further in response to his assailant angry-whispering into the empty hallway.

He’s about to finish this when he hears your voice again, offering an offensively low sum for the highest grade protocore this pretentious establishment has to offer.

“5 million!” he counters in a whisper-shout. He is not going to let these clowns think that your man is broke. He waits to hear your response, finally noticing that the guard he still has suspended in the air has passed out. When he hears you double the amount he had ordered you to offer, and then proceed to demand the rest of the items up for bid, Sylus laughs so hard that he momentarily loses control of his evol and the unconscious goon falls with an unceremonious, muffled thump onto the richly carpeted floor. Sylus contemplates his crumpled form for a moment, wiping the tears from his eyes. Suddenly he doesn’t have it in him to kill a guy who is probably only here for a paycheck, even if he does have atrocious taste in employers.

“You can thank my charming guest for your life tonight, if you manage to get through it alive,” he murmurs to the lump on the floor, before punching the door open with his evol-wrapped fist and striding in to find Sherman turning with a look of horror on his face as he recognizes who, precisely, was just laughing like a madman on the other side of the now ruined door.

After, once Sylus has successfully avenged himself and more importantly, you, he hums a little tune as he picks up Sherman’s detonator and saunters back to the ballroom. Maybe, if things keep going as well as they’re going now, and you like him a little better, he’ll sing it to you as a treat. Because of you, he's having so much fun.

***

And now, finally, he is going to claim his own treat before the action really begins. The utter boredom he was forced to endure while interrogating Sherman and uncovering his trite motivations is replaced by an eagerness bordering on mania to get back to his interesting little Hunter. He watches in amusement as a man sidles up to you and shows interest in your brooch, after having thoroughly shown interest in the rest of you before mustering the courage to actually speak to you.

He watches with slightly less amusement as your curiosity is piqued and you ask with your customary eagerness to learn new things, “Hightower? What’s that?” The man’s eyes light up at this apparent interest of yours, seeing an in with you and assertively requesting that you join him for the banquet dance.

Aaaand that’s enough. Sylus steps into the light and slides his hand around your waist, pulling you decisively into his side and feeling that dangerously seductive calm wash over him, as it always does, when he’s allowed to touch you. He knows it makes him weak. He does not care. His other strengths more than compensate for the crack in his armor you represent. Unlike Achilles, he knows exactly how to protect his vulnerability. His hand flexes involuntarily, fingers pressing a little too hard into your hip, until he is able to will it relaxed again.

“A Hightower is a type of gun. Just one can level this entire building,” he answers your question, fingering the detonator in his other pocket. He doesn’t need a Hightower to finish what he started tonight, and the thought translates into an the intense smugness as you frown at him for interrupting your conversation with your luckless suitor. “The brooch is a gift from me, I’m afraid,” he says smoothly, more than ready to send this guy scurrying along his way and draw your entire focus back to him, where he likes it best.

“You weren’t trying to sell it now, were you, kitten?” he goads you, just to see how you’ll respond to this blatant mischaracterization of the situation.

You don’t disappoint him: with your tight jaw belying your coy tone of voice, you run your hands  up his chest, underneath the coat draped over his shoulders, and pretend to be a spoiled, thrill seeking brat testing a sugar daddy’s patience. Finally, the insignificant obstacle standing between him and the dance he has been looking forward to all evening gets the hint and slinks back into the crowded shadows.

And finally, finally, the music begins, bodies are moving around the two of you, and you’re in his arms as he gracefully leads you through the steps of the dance. He soaks in the feeling of his arm around your waist, your hand in his, your chests brushing against each other as you sway together across the dance floor. He notices that your attention is split between expressing doubt about whether he’s telling the truth regarding knowing the aether core’s location and constantly assessing potential threats—but Sylus does not want your eyes drifting elsewhere. He smoothly draws your eyes back to his, where they belong, and ensures that the only thing you can see is him by tightening his arm around your waist, drawing you in closer, and refusing to give you a direct answer to all of your questions. He sees your little scowl, the frustration in the line of your mouth, suppresses a wince when you deliberately stomp on his foot—but he doesn’t mind. Just as he doesn’t mind that you might not believe that he’s fulfilled his part of the deal, that he knows exactly where the aether core is, and that he has his own house’s situation finally under control with Sherman’s demise. In time, you’ll learn that you can trust him. And he has all the time in the world, now that you’re finally here and not trying to kill him.

He's in such a good mood he’s floating like a feather, until you mention the protocore bombs and something changes in the expression on your face. If he hadn’t been staring at your lovely face for weeks now, from afar through Mephisto and hacked security cameras, and while you were sleeping under his roof (if you have an objection to him exploiting your proximity by watching you as you sleep when you’re right there, under his roof, then sue him), and if he wasn’t currently in the process of soaking in every microexpression flitting across your upturned face from this close as you dance together, he might have missed it. But he doesn’t miss it. And he certainly doesn’t miss the involuntary shudder that runs through your body pressed to his. He realizes in a flash of intuition that the idea of the bombs bothers you—

He watches your throat as you swallow, and the very light sheen of sweat gathering at your temples, he watches your eyes begin to dart around again, your hand flexing with what is likely the need to grab your gun from underneath the fabric of your outfit, and he realizes that you’re starting to panic. Or have a panic attack. At the thought of bombs—

Like the bomb that destroyed your family and came so close to killing you too

He has watched you for weeks, seen the way you’ve worked almost non-stop, taking on assignment after assignment with hardly any rest in between except for when you were on the brink of collapse. When you weren’t working, you were training, kilometer after kilometer on the treadmill, heavier and heavier weight sets. And when you weren’t training, you were trying to orchestrate a way to infiltrate his territory, to hunt him and the aether core down. You weren’t sleeping, and you weren’t attending counseling. You haven’t processed what happened to you at all, and no one around you has forced you to confront what you have been avoiding this whole time. The dark circles under your precious eyes, the short fuse and oh so transparent mask of a smile plastered across your lovely, exhausted face—how they just let you continue as you have been infuriates him, and only the thought that he’s here now, in your life, whether you like it or not, is the only thing that stops him from adding new names to his extermination list. He will succeed where they have failed to care for you, even if you hate him for it.

However, he takes a moment to reproach himself, as just a few hours ago he was gloating to himself that soon you’d learn that his contingency plans have contingencies, that you could trust him to think of all the variables and know how to dismantle any obstacles. Yet he has been missing something so obvious while making his calculations of how tonight would go. Of course you’d have remaining trauma from what you have survived and what has been taken from you.

He recalculates—it’s too late to change the state of play now, but instead of the fireworks he has been looking forward to unleashing into chaos, this is now going to have to be a controlled demolition.

He lifts his hand and runs his fingertips along the curve of your jaw to return your focus to him. Once your too wide eyes are locked on his, he tightens his hold around your waist again.

“Look at me. Look only at me.” He waits, and something inside of him crows in triumph as, your hands tightening on him, you follow his directions and stare into his eyes, letting him continue speaking without struggle.

“We are going to detonate the bombs now that were originally intended later for me, kitten. It’s going to be loud, and most of this place will be rubble when we’re done.”

Before you can ask the how and why, he continues. “I have the detonator. I know you’re frightened. I’m sorry this is the method that I have tonight. But keep your eyes on me, and breathe. We’ll get through this together, do you understand?”

He can sense the shift in the energy of the room, the metaflux fluctuations and the increasing violent mood of the crowd, but he will make time for this and deal with any fallout from this slight delay. He will ensure that you get through this without spiraling into a panic attack and possibly getting hurt.

“Do you understand?” he asks again. And that same satisfaction, the sense of calm, that only you seem to be able to give him floods through him as you take a shuddering breath and nod, ever so slightly, eyes never leaving his.

He lets his fingers drift down your face, takes your hand in his and slips both of them into his pocket, pulling you even closer, your cheek coming to rest against his chest. He guides your hand around the detonator in his pocket, squeezing your hand gently in reassurance. “We’ll do this together. You’re in control,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the crowd now, having utter faith that you will have the courage to press the button despite the dread that must be filling you right now.

And you, with your cheek pressed against his warm chest, his steady heartbeat drowning out all the other sounds, including the ringing in your ears, your own thundering heartbeat, flashes of memory, a door closing, Caleb’s last words to you—you close your eyes and press, and the world explodes around the two of you. But you’re breathing, and Sylus is still holding you tight, and you’re alive, and you’ll deal with the terror threatening to drown you after you’ve gotten what you came for.

After you take one deep, slow breath, you reach for your gun, shove Sylus to the side and shoot the wanderer that was about to stab him in the back.

Just going to leave this here :)