Sylus Love And Deepspace - Blog Posts

Summary: Sylus doesn't like you coming home injured Characters/Pairing: Sylus x GN!Reader Word Count: 391 Warnings: Mention of minor injury A/N: I'm trying a new way of formatting so pls bear with me lol

"Why didn't you call me?

"I didn't want to worry you..."

"What worries me is that you think I wouldn't drop everything in a heartbeat to help you, sweetie." Sylus' warm palm caressed your cheek before gripping your face between his fingers. With his gentle yet stern hold on your face, he carefully inspected every inch of your skin. The most damage he managed to find consisted of the cut that embedded itself in your brow with the swelling of your soon to be black eye to compliment it. You flinch and he takes careful note of how much pressure he should apply when taking care of your wounds.

It was nothing bad. A low-level wanderer had caught you off guard during your routine stroll around the area surrounding the man's safehouse in the N109 zone. You knew you should have told Sylus where you were going, but you simply assumed Mephisto would keep his watchful eye on you as he usually does. Besides, you had taken that path more than a hundred times (that was an exaggeration) and there was never a wanderer in sight, other than today of course.

"It's really nothing, Sy." The nickname flows of your tongue with a small sigh. It always ignited something within him, keeping Sylus on the edge of his seat. Your voice was the purest melody, blessing his ears like any angel would. His steady hands pulled your face close, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours before he rested cheek against yours. Although he seemed big and bad, Sylus was utterly wrapped around your fingers. He shook his head, and you swore his frown deepened just the slightest bit.

"It's not nothing... You are injured." He spoke sternly, "And you didn't think to come to me first." Your eyes widened and face fell into a pitiful frown. You trusted Sylus, but the thought of being a burden lingered in the back of your mind. Instead, you simply nodded and swallowed back your words as those crimson eyes stared deep into your eyes. You would never live down this feeling, the guilt that would bare its claws deep into your back. But for now, you shook the feeling away and let the older man tend to your stinging wounds, relishing in the warmth of his palms and the depth of his gruff voice.

Besties Imma tell you something and you're gunna lose it

Petition for long hair Sylus fr

Love this man ugh 🤬

What an idiot (lovingly)

sylus dancing off beat because he canonically has a hard time (cannot recognize) recognizing melodies and patterns

like what do you MEAN, how do i recover from this 😭 my precious dragon baby

you can't help but squeal and cover your face with your hands, face beginning to burn.

"what?" he says, but he can barely even get the word out as he laughs, pretending to act perplexed.

"you did it." you spread out your fingers to peak through them, staring at his hands as he pulls out of the drive way

"you're crazy," he tries to tell you seriously, eyes flitting to the rearview mirror then to yours before switching the gear from reverse to drive to pull out of the driveway. he nudges his head in your direction. "pay attention to the road or something. didn't even do anything."

you can only huff at his words.

it's only when the car pulls up to the parking lot of the grocery store does he feel your eyes boring into him again. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling as he looks around to find an open slot before placing his palm onto the top of the wheel and rotates it counterclockwise with ease.

he can hear you giggle as he resets the wheel, the leather gliding smoothly across his palm. he can only shake his head in disbelief.

"you did it again!" you shout in excitement.

"something's wrong with you," he laughs out loud, the car rumbling beneath you guys before turning off the engine and leaving you in the car so you don't see that stupid grin growing on his face. he nearly loses all composure when you catch up to him, latching onto his arm and looking up.

"pretty damn cool if you ask me," you compliment. "and hot."

all he can do is ruffle your hair, trying to distract you from the burning he feels on the tips of his ears. "you're lucky you're so cute."

+ SYLUS (L&DS), LEONA KINGSCHOLAR, JASON TODD, deuce spade, SIMON "GHOST" RILEY, roronoa zoro, nanami kento, GETO SUGURU, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, ushijima wakatoshi, dante (devil may cry), TREVOR BELMONT, vinny hong, SAKURA HARUKA, hiragi toma, SOHMA KYO, sohma hatori, SOHMA HATSUHARU, ken "draken" ryuguji, and more...

STRAIGHT UP FROM PINTEREST

1) thanks for not giving Sylus a real lynx tail in beige/brown palette. It would have looked so sus at the bottom of his back

2) they probably gave Sylus a lynx because a lynx has the same huge paws as Silus's palms

just fell to my knees

hello! good day to youuu, can i make a request for the lads men? in which reader is not the mc and here's the prompt: having to beg them to do something with you then seeing them doing it with mc willingly, sorry english is not my first language but pleaaaseeee 😭 i love some angst.

Bitter

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Watching the one you love partake in what you once pleaded to share—a quiet betrayal—feels like an arrow through the heart, swift and merciless. (angst, no comfort)

A/N: Thank you for the request, it came out more as a drabble. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

What a bitter, gutting thing it was—to stand in the shadows and watch him shine for someone else. To see the light in his eyes, the easy laughter, the quiet devotion as he did for her what he had never done for you.

The one thing you once begged for. The one thing he had denied you.

But not her. Never her.

She was fate’s beloved, the one woven from the same celestial thread as him, bound to him in ways you never could be. You had always told yourself to be rational, to be understanding. Xavier came with a past. He came with baggage.

And inside that baggage, nestled close to his heart, was her.

The woman you would envy until the world turned to dust.

And yet—how could you ever bring yourself to hate her? When she was made of kindness, of soft edges and warm light? When she looked at you with nothing but affection, oblivious to the ruin she left in her wake? She was an angel. A blessing. A curse.

And fate, it seemed, had always been on her side.

So there they were, walking side by side, woven together so seamlessly it was almost poetic. Almost cruel. Her bags in his hands, the weight of them carried so effortlessly—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, when you had asked for the same—just a simple day together, just a moment of his time—he had sighed, shaken his head, told you he was too tired. That work was too much. That he simply couldn’t.

But now, watching him with her, you couldn’t help but wonder—did she take his exhaustion away? Did her presence breathe new life into him in a way you never could?

The answer settled deep in your bones, cold and unrelenting.

Your friend beside you said nothing, only looking at you with that quiet, suffocating pity that made your stomach turn. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing to soften the truth you had known all along.

You were not his first thought in the morning. You were not the name on his lips when he passed a garden of wildflowers. You were not the presence lingering in his mind when the world grew quiet.

And you never would be.

You had spent so long fighting against it. Xavier loves me. He chose me. The words had been your lifeline, a fragile, trembling thing you whispered into the silence. But even your friends never seemed convinced.

And now, neither were you.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You turned away.

No confrontation. No desperate pleas for an explanation that would only come laced with half-truths and empty reassurances. What good was honesty when it had never been yours to begin with?

When he came home that night, his lips still curved with the ghost of a smile, he found an emptiness he had never felt before. Your things, your presence—gone, as if you had never been there at all.

And in your place, only a single note remained.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Because clearly, it was never me."

And Xavier, poor Xavier, would stand there, reading those words over and over, grasping at the fraying edges of something he had never truly held onto.

But then again—

Xavier had never noticed his wrongdoings.

Not until there was nothing left but the weight of his own ruin.

Zayne

Zayne—or Dr. Zayne, as she called him—had always been a good man. A gentleman in every sense. Caring, affectionate, endlessly considerate.

But never for you.

His tenderness felt practiced, his affections routine. As if he wasn’t loving you, but fulfilling some unspoken obligation. A kindness given not out of devotion, but out of mere habit.

And you had tried to ignore it. Swallowed your doubts, convinced yourself you were overthinking.

Until you saw them together.

Her.

The one fate had tied him to. The one who never had to ask for his attention, because it had always belonged to her.

Her laughter lit up rooms before she even stepped inside. Her eyes gleamed like sunlight catching on water—brilliant, hypnotic, impossible to look away from. And neither could he.

And then, there was the picture.

A simple post, one she likely uploaded without a second thought, oblivious to the quiet devastation it would bring.

There she was, sitting in his office. Smiling. At ease.

Sharing lunch with him.

Something you had never been allowed to do.

You had asked once—just to drop by, to see him, to spend even a sliver of time together in the place he spent most of his days. But he had refused, brushing you off with a gentle but firm, “I don’t want distractions.”

And yet, there she was, sitting across from him, urging him to eat the food she had made, as if she had every right to be there. And maybe she did.

They had known each other forever. That was what you told yourself—Of course, they’re close. Of course, they understand each other in ways I never will. You had tried to accept it. To be understanding.

But then you saw the way he looked at her in the picture.

The softness in his eyes. The quiet, unguarded devotion.

Like she was the only one who could unravel him, the only one who could slip past his carefully built walls.

You had spent so long trying to do the same, but you never even made a crack.

And so, that was the moment you made a promise to yourself.

You would not be someone’s second choice. You would not collect the scraps of his affection while she—effortless, radiant, destined—was given everything you had ever wanted.

And Zayne noticed.

He noticed in the silence. In the missed calls that went unanswered, the messages left on read. In the bouquets left wilting at your doorstep, the petals curling at the edges.

Roses.

Her favorite flowers.

Not yours.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Zayne was never the gentleman you thought he was.

Or perhaps, he was. Just never for you.

Or maybe—maybe it was fate itself that was cruel.

Rafayel

Something inside you cracked, splintering like fragile seashells beneath careless hands—shattered beyond repair, beyond mending.

It wasn’t a sudden break. No, it had been slow, creeping in like the tide, eroding the edges of your love bit by bit, pulling pieces of you away before you could even notice you were unraveling.

And now, the final wave had come, and it had taken everything with it.

Because there he was—your Rafayel—kneeling beside her, smiling in a way you had longed to be the cause of.

The sight alone stole the breath from your lungs.

You had spent so long pretending not to notice. Ignoring the way his gaze always sought her out, the way his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to her. You had swallowed the ache, told yourself it didn’t matter.

"That’s just the way he is," you had whispered, time and time again.

But it had never been the way he was.

It had only ever been the way he was with you.

And now, you knew why.

Rafayel hated cats.

You remembered the way his nose had scrunched when you had once tried to feed a stray by the docks, the way he had flicked his fingers as if to ward the creature away. “Little beasts,” he had muttered, half-amused, half-disgusted. “I don’t understand how you humans tolerate them.”

You had laughed then, nudging him playfully. “You’re just jealous they’re cuter than you.”

And yet—here he was.

Crouched beside her, cradling a trembling kitten in careful, delicate hands, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His touch—usually teasing, fleeting, always just out of reach—was steady, warm, tender.

For her.

Not for you.

Something cold curled around your ribs, sinking deep, making it harder to breathe.

It was never about the kitten.

It was never about the things he couldn’t do.

It was about the things he never wanted to do for you.

And watching him now, so unguarded, so effortlessly kind, made you wish you had never met him at all.

Rage and sorrow burned through your veins, curling beneath your skin like a sickness. You wanted to rip that stupidly charming smile from his face, wanted to demand why he had never looked at you like that.

But there was no point.

So you turned and walked away.

Ignoring reality, just as you had once tried to ignore fate.

But fate never ignored you.

And something in the air told you—Rafayel wouldn’t either.

Sylus

Sylus had never been an easy man to love.

Sharp edges, cold precision—every move calculated, every word spoken with intent. He was not a man swayed by sentiment, nor was he one to entertain trivial affections.

You had known this from the start.

And yet, knowing had never stopped you from wanting.

So you learned to take what little he gave you—stolen moments in the dead of night, whispered conversations where he let the ice thaw just enough for you to believe there was something beneath it. But always, always, he kept his distance, his affections measured, restrained.

"This is who I am," he had told you once, when you asked why he never let himself soften. "I don’t have the luxury of being gentle."

You had believed him.

Until now.

Until you saw him, standing there in the dim glow of a high-rise restaurant, his head tilted ever so slightly toward her. The woman fate had written into his story, the one whose presence seemed to unravel him in ways you never could.

His fated one.

And in front of them, two untouched glasses of wine.

Wine.

The very thing he had refused to share with you.

"I don’t drink with others," he had said once, his voice clipped, final. "It's a pleasure reserved for my time alone."

But now, here he was. Sharing a glass with her. His fingers resting idly against the stem of his glass, his expression unreadable yet undeniably present. He was here. Fully. With her.

A man who never entertained distractions, utterly enthralled.

The way he looked at her—it was something different. Something you had never been granted. There was no calculation in his gaze, no careful restraint. No cold, distant amusement.

Just quiet acceptance. As if she had been meant to sit beside him all along.

And that was when you knew.

You could tear yourself apart, try to become everything he had ever wanted, and it still wouldn’t matter. Because fate had already made the choice for him.

And it wasn’t you.

Still, you lingered a moment longer, letting the pain settle, letting it carve its lesson deep into your ribs.

And then, without a word, you turned and left.

Because you, too, could learn to be cold.

Caleb

Caleb had always been warm. That was the problem.

He had a way of making you believe you belonged there—tucked into his arms, held close by quiet promises and easy smiles. He made you think you mattered.

But there was always her.

His childhood best friend.

Not bound by fate, not chosen by some cosmic force—just there. Always. In every story he told, in every old memory that made his eyes soften with something you could never quite reach. The one who had been with him before you, the one who had held his hand through storms you’d never even known existed.

And you told yourself it wasn’t a competition.

Until the night you saw them.

The neon lights of the karaoke bar cast the whole street in a soft glow, music and laughter spilling from inside as you walked past—until something, someone, made your steps falter.

Through the open doors, past the booths and glowing screens, you saw him.

Caleb.

Standing there, microphone in hand, singing.

With her.

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

"I don’t like singing in front of people," he had told you once, shaking his head with a sheepish smile when you begged him to join you for just one song. "It’s embarrassing. I just—I can’t, okay?"

But now, here he was.

Swaying slightly, smiling as their voices blended together in a song you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t perfect—his voice cracked in places, he missed a beat or two—but that didn’t matter. Because he was trying. Because he was enjoying it.

Because she made him feel safe enough to do what he had never done for you.

Your stomach twisted.

It had never been about singing.

It had been about you.

You should have walked away then. Should have swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back, should have spared yourself the cruel spectacle of watching them.

But you didn’t.

You stayed long enough to see the way he laughed when she nudged him playfully. The way he looked at her, unguarded, free. The way she reached for his hand without hesitation—because she knew it would always be there, waiting for her.

And for the first time, you realized—maybe you had never been holding his hand at all. Maybe you had only been grasping at the space he left behind.

Something cold settled in your chest.

You didn’t wait for him to notice you.

You just turned, and left, without a sound.

And Caleb, too caught up in a song meant for someone else, never even saw you go.

牢笼可不是野兽的归宿 "A cage is not where beasts belong" Love and Deepspace fan-made animation by 零零依

Speaking of hot...

Sylus' silhouette hello like the fucking shoulder to waist ratio???

just imagine watching a romcom with sylus...like the mf is such a romantic would he be sniffling at the notebook...would he be stuffing his face with chocolate and blowing his nose loud as hell

my diamonds really went from 9k to 1k real quick AND I ONLY GOT TWO SYLUS 5 STAR CARD.

Sylus - Tomorrow's Catch

SYLUS WANTS TO BE CALLED A GOOD BOY AND BE REWARDED SPREAD THE WORD

GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE FOAMING AT THE MOUTH TURNING INTO A RABID BEAST

EDIT OF MY FAVORITE MOMENTS OF "BLOODNIGHT BLAZE".

Original footage by the Lavender Youtube channel. Edit made by me.

Hey! I actually did an animated trailer for Sylus. Go check it out!

That card art got me acting unwise

Meme made by me

My first attempt at drawing the mafia boss who comitted heinous crimes baby boy!

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HIS VOICE IS SO SOFT IN "RADIANT BRILLIANCE" THAT MAN IS SMITTEN

I just think it's so interesting how MC (and everyone in the Association at Linkon, apparently) think Sylus always wins and is the type of person to have a backup plan to his backup plan

When in reality he just keeps trying and improving until he succeeds. Really brings more depth to his character and what he had to do to reach the top.

Also "I don't like repetitive stories"?? BECAUSE OF HIS PAST WITH MC? I'M NOT OKAY SOMEONE HOLD ME

WHY IS SYLUS LIKE THIS

What is the need for him to compete in professional boxing?

Like imagine you spend your entire life learning and competing in boxing championships just so THE MAFIA BOSS FROM YOUR CITY defeats you 😭😭😭

I know that a big part of his personality is "I'm good at everything and have eyes everywhere" but maybe TONE IT DOWN A LITTLE??

Imagine MC going to his house and there's an entire wing dedicated to his trophies and prizes, and they get more unhinged with time:

Boxing? Makes sense. Coding? Creating? Both of these because of Mephisto. Management? He is a boss after all. And then there's sowing, painting, pottery and MC is just there like 🤡🤡

I understand that we are all losing our minds to Radiant Brilliance (and for good reason!) but I would like to talk about Mountain Footsteps Sylus' episode for a bit:

They visit a tribe and even though both characters don't know how to speak the native language, Sylus learns the word "beloved" to be able to say it to MC!!!

This man has been down bad since the start and keeps getting softer by the minute!!!

Rating: 10/10 I won't survive when MC and Sylus kiss 😔😔😔