Sylus · Y/n story by @Kristen

The kitchen was a study in sterile, modern luxury. Polished chrome, white marble, and the soft hum of climate control. It felt more like a museum exhibit than a place where anyone actually ate.

Chef

Here you go, miss. I hope it’s to your standards this time.

He set the bowl down with a quiet clink on the counter in front of Y/n. The display was flawless. Umami-rich noodles sat in a perfectly clear, golden chicken broth. A sheet of nori lay beside a halved, jammy soft-boiled egg. Shredded chicken and crisp bok choy were arranged with deliberate, artistic care.

Sylus

You should be eating more than just empty calories and cheap pasta.

His voice came from the arched doorway, smooth and amused. Sylus leaned against the frame, his silver hair messy, his red-feathered shirt a violent splash of color against the monochrome kitchen. A smirk played on his lips as he took in Y/n’s grumpy expression and the untouched, gourmet bowl.

Sylus

Come on. Let me make it enticing for you.

He pushed off the doorway and settled on the stool beside Y/n. Without hesitation, he plucked a single, long noodle from the bowl. He held one end between his own lips, the other he gently, deliberately, slipped between Y/n’s.

Sylus

Oh no. Looks like we’ll have to eat another one if you want more, sweetie.