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comatosebunny09 · 9 days ago

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merry christmas, mr. sylus

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo au, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining — notes: part 2 here — now playing: merry christmas mr. lawrence - utada

What do you get a man who has everything? Who can buy anything at the drop of a hat?

Nothing. The answer is nothing. And the realization, as it slowly descends onto your shoulders, is really starting to piss you off.

You blow some hair from your face for the umpteenth time since you’ve started this little adventure. Throw yourself against the bench in the midst of the mall’s second floor, peering up at the ceiling as if it can solve all your problems.

Your wares, bags of varying colors, sizes, and materials, sit off to the side. It’s an impressive haul—gifts for coworkers, family, and friends. But nothing buried beneath the sparkly tissue paper of said bags is for him.

At least, not yet.

You lean back in a defeated slouch, arms crossed over your chest. Puffing your cheeks out, you exhale all slow and dramatic, watching the lights adorning the Christmas tree in the mall’s epicenter twinkle like bokeh. Your lips twist into a pout.

Mr. Sylus isn’t particularly picky, at least from what you’ve gleaned from working as his secretary the past year. You know how he likes his coffee: black. How he prefers your morning briefs: quick and concise. How he often falls asleep in his office, propped on an elbow on his desk, the usual furrow between his brows traded for something more serene as sunlight bleeds in, framing him like a halo–your cheeks warm at the memory.

You bow forward with a sigh, your head held in your hands.

You know enough about your boss to appease him. To level with him. You just wished you knew him a little…better. Enough to make this gift-buying venture you’ve been on since 8 AM worthwhile.

You tried asking Luke and Kieran, his financial and technology advisors, for pointers. They’d worked with him longer than anyone else at Starlight Enterprises. Naturally, they knew him like the backs of their hands. But they spoke in riddles when you asked. Confused the hell out of you, speaking of challenging his authority to get to his heart and things of that nature.

You didn’t know what the hell any of that meant. And even if you did, it’s not like you were out to steal his heart, though you someday hoped to.

As cordial as Mr. Sylus had been since you began working for him, you always felt like he kept you at arm’s length, even as the months under his tutelage eased by. He steeled himself against you, though your coworkers swore they’d never heard him so talkative.

Sure, he occasionally greeted you with rare smiles and snickered at your terrible, cringe-inducing jokes. Entertained you with sporadic coffee runs and maybe went out of his way to chat you up before disappearing behind the heavy, oakwood door to his office. But you didn’t expect a man like him to fully open his chest cavity to you, no matter how disarming you were.

You were so desperate for the perfect present that you even perused through his contacts and reached out to someone who’d frequented his office more times than you could count. Ms. Hunter. She had a name, but you’d grown accustomed to addressing her as such, adopting the moniker from your boss.

Sylus always smiled so youthfully when she swung around your desk and walked into his office. Her presence alone seemed to shave 10 years off his life in a way you were envious of. You didn’t know the semantics of their relationship. Could never make out what they were saying, their voices distorted murmurs behind a closed door. As far as you were concerned, they were good friends. Or your delusions had convinced you of such, and you still secretly hoped you stood a chance with him.

But you couldn’t help how your stomach gnarled, and words stalled in your throat when, after each time she left, Mr. Sylus was particularly cheerful. Or as spirited as a man like him could be, his eyes shining with residual fondness as he requested you reschedule his meetings before he shacked up in his office again.

You shake your head to dispel your thoughts. You’ve sunken into the abyss of self-deprecation again. Now’s not the time to pity yourself.

The bottom line was that Ms. Hunter wasn’t much help, either; she was cryptic on the phone as she threw out generic options, seemingly disinterested. But you wouldn’t give up despite how unhelpful everyone around you was. Mr. Sylus deserved something—anything to show how grateful you were to have been taken under his wing.

You sit up again, watching as families and couples mill about, swept up by the Christmas spirit. Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Sylus even celebrates Christmas. Your endeavor might've been for naught. He doesn’t strike you as the type to indulge in silly holiday traditions. He’s usually all business and stoned-faced when he isn’t entertaining your morbid jokes or his lady friend. But you’re persistent, having organized a holiday party on Christmas Eve at the office without his consent.

You told him after you already set your plans into motion. And he looked at you from the rim of his monitor with a quirked brow and a smirk canting one corner of his lips skyward. He sat back in an easy slouch, tapping the tips of his fingers together, seemingly mulling over your request.

“Do I even have a say in the matter?” he teased in that humored, attractive rasp.

You stood before him, determined, a hand on your hip whilst the other clutched a set of Manila folders to your chest. “Not at all.”

Mr. Sylus scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

You could be terribly insistent when you wanted to be. Most of the time, it got you into trouble in your previous professions. However, as you grew more accustomed to your boss, you found he coddled your fighting spirit.

And with time, you also discovered it easier to manipulate him—at least to a certain degree. Your pout and guilt-tripping when he wouldn’t bend to your will, he could manage. But you barging into his office, insisting he eat, stretch, or simply take a load off? He could not contest that.

Or he at least chose not to.

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, the amusement never leaving his face. “You drive a hard bargain. I won’t interfere. But don’t expect me to help you orchestrate this little soiree.”

You smiled triumphantly, peering down at your boss from the tip of your nose. “I don’t. I just expect you to be there with your cutest Christmas sweater, smiling and ready to party.”

He gave you a look. One that read, ‘I don’t do cute.’ And you stifled a laugh, imagining your stoic and trendy boss donning something other than a suit. He must’ve caught wind of what was going on in your head, lifting a brow at your mischievous cackle.

He waved his hand dismissively. Cheek dimpled whilst he busied himself with some financial reports on his desk. You spun on your heel, skipping out of his office with all the eagerness of a child, set to finish your work for the evening.

The earlier you finished, the more time you had for gift shopping and preparing for your holiday shindig.

Funnily enough, though your boss insisted he wouldn’t entertain your holiday antics, extra funds mysteriously appeared on the company card.

Two days later, you find yourself a huffy, downtrodden mess, stewing in your inadequacy.

You’ve scoured the city for the perfect gift over the past few days. Woke up early to travel out of town even, hoping to find something. Anything to make your boss all misty-eyed and appreciative. You’ve come up short; nothing seems to fit his vibe.

You’ve looked at watches, ties, cologne, and luxurious sweaters. Checked stores with prices that made your paycheck shudder. Nothing seems to resonate with him. To capture the essence of Mr. Sylus.

A glance at your smartwatch reveals it’s mid-afternoon. You deflate. Here you are, cities away from the investment firm, and you’ve nothing to show for your efforts.

It’s Christmas Eve. Your day off. You should be using it to prepare for the party, but your coworkers assured you they’d handle the decorations while you ran your errands.

Still, you’re at least an hour away from your home. Traffic is a hellscape around this time of year. You need to get back quickly to wrap presents and gather yourself for the festivities.

Resigned, you peel yourself from the bench, your bags weighted in either of your hands. You trudge across the mall’s upper level in search of the escalator. Maybe Mr. Sylus will forgive you for not having gotten him a gift. Anything you could think of getting, he could buy himself. He’s the CEO of the most notable investment company in the city. Surely, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you showed up to the party empty-handed.

Your head slung low, you’re about to descend on the escalator. However, something catches your attention in your periphery. You curiously meander towards a display window adorned with gaudy Alternative Christmas decorations. Something inside captures your interest, and a smile slowly crawls onto your lips.

With a renewed tide of optimism washing over you, you wander into the store.

Maybe fate is on your side today.

—

Your holiday soirée is fairly low-key.

It’s littered with modest decorations. Christmas garlands adorn the walls and columns of the tenth floor, dripping from the ceiling. String lights twinkle overhead, tables donned with red and green tablecloths and poinsettia centerpieces.

The six-foot tall Christmas tree is the focal point, frocked with artificial snow and sparkling ethereally amid the dark grey walls of your office space. Sure, you had to strain on tippy-toe to put the star up. And maybe you still had a bit of the faux powder in your hair. But, with a glass of bubbly poised at your lips, you inwardly pat yourself on the back. You truly outdid yourself, breathing life into these otherwise drab walls.

A few of your coworkers along with some of the other department heads are in attendance, trading work talk and gossip. Even Ms. Hunter carved out some time—at your insistence—to come.

Over your time as his secretary, you’ve gathered that Mr. Sylus is a bit of an introvert. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with a crowd. He gets enough attention as it is, being amongst the country's youngest, most successful business moguls. He’s always under scrutiny, much to your dismay. He deserves to take a load off from time to time, which is why you were so adamant about throwing this party in the first place.

Speaking of the devil, you haven’t taken your eyes off him since he made his grand entrance. Always had him in sight, sneaking little glimpses of his figure as it cut a sharp, regal outline amid the humble decor.

He looks amazing. Then again, when hasn’t he? With his striking white hair and uncommon, scarlet eyes, he sifts through his guests as he entertains them with fruitless chatter.

Though he didn’t entirely humor you with an ugly Christmas getup, he still wore something festive. A burgundy sweater that doesn’t betray his usual style. Complimented it with a black button-up beneath, matching slacks, and onyx loafers. Still so inherently Mr. Sylus.

He routinely captures your gaze. Raises his champagne glass to you in greeting, a small, dimpled smirk lighting up his features. You hide your bashfulness behind your glass, turning away to chat up your coworkers beneath the ambient crooning of the jazz music spilling from the speakers.

The night eases by with a bit of champagne. With hors d'oeuvres, karaoke, silly party games, and raucous laughter coloring the atmosphere. Everyone appears to be in good spirits, a few of the party’s attendees stopping by to let you know what a great job you’ve done putting everything together.

You brush them off with a lopsided smile, the bubbly fizzling in your system. You gnaw on your bottom lip once left to your own devices. You grapple with the idea of giving your present to your boss now. It’s a quarter ‘till 10 PM, and you’re sure you won’t have a more opportune time to present it to him.

You spot your boss amid the partygoers, the world around him blurring and bending as you focus solely on him. He talks with his Chief Technology Officer, a hand stuffed in his pocket. His posture is relaxed, an occasional, rich laugh spilling from his throat. You decide you quite like this side of him. His defenses at half-mast, swept up in the holiday cheer.

Your face warms. You’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the magnetic pull you feel towards him. With a bit of liquid encouragement, you swallow your resolve and swipe your gift from beneath the Christmas tree, making a beeline towards the man of the hour after his conversation ends.

But fate has other plans for you tonight, no longer working in your favor.

You’re halfway across the room when she walks into frame—Ms. Hunter. The smile you once held dampens, and you clutch your gift to your chest, stock-still. You watch with bated breath as she produces a thin, rectangular box from behind her and presents it to your boss, the glossy wrapping paper catching in the incandescent light.

He accepts it with a rare smile. Sets his champagne flute on a high-top table and carefully unravels the gift. Once the box’s contents are revealed, your throat grows dry, your eyes prickling with something warm.

It’s a crudely knit, crimson scarf. It looks like it itches and is two sizes too big for just one person. But it’s clearly a labor of love, and Mr. Sylus bends to allow his lady friend to drape it around his neck. He exudes a quiet fondness as she grazes the tip of his nose with one of the scarf’s frayed ends. It’s simple, yet it speaks volumes of the affection blooming between them.

Without having spoken a word, you sense whatever relationship they share stretches beyond that of mere friendship. It’s something more. Something you could only hope to obtain, but you’re grossly outmatched. All those months you spent in denial, rose-tinted glasses perched on your nose. You never stood a chance, and the realization slams into you with the force of a tsunami.

With a bitter chuckle, you peer down at the intricately wrapped gift in your hands. You’d taped and retaped it several times, determined to get the lines and creasing just right. Took your time curling the ribbons with scissors and scrawling his name on the To line. You protected your gift with your life on your way to the party. Cradled it like a baby. But now, the sight of it makes your stomach churn, the taste of bile heavy on the back of your tongue.

Feeling incredibly foolish, you hide your present at the small of your back, quietly stepping away to nurse your wounded pride.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #christmas fic #holiday fic #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #modern au #ceo au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Death Wish 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The car ride is silent. You don’t mind. You have nothing to say.

Your thoughts race to a fury. This is it. It’s over. You’re in trouble. Not the sort that would have you sobbing under your blankets. No, it’s the kind you don’t walk away from.

You replay that night in your head. Why did you do it? There was nothing different about that night. Nothing excessive. No, you were just tired of it.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe the solution isn’t getting rid of your father. Maybe it’s you. It’s always been. He always hated you. All of you.

Shadows flow over the car like waves in the ocean. The sky dims as evening deepens around the city. The wheels roll on with the silence. Tense and wrought. Driver nor passengers make a noise.

Rogers drives beyond the city limits. You’ve heard your father tell the stories. He laughs with his accomplices about the latest snitch or thief. They die alone and begging.

The warehouse stands like a skeleton against the moonlit sky. The shattered windows twinkle like the stars and the desolate lot sprawls like a swathe of black satin beneath the tires. The brakes lurch you forward and you catch yourself against the seat.

“Out.” Rogers says.

You don’t linger. You undo your seat belt and get out. There’s someone waiting to take care of you. To end it. Your eyes fill with tears. You’re not sad for yourself, you’re sad for your sisters. They’ll miss you. You didn’t tell them you loved them.

As you stand outside the car, Rogers drives away. You’re left alone in the midst of the cracked pavement. You hug yourself with one arm and look around.

Will it be a quick shot? Will you be tortured? You remember your dad cackling about a man who had his nails removed from his fingers and toes.

You flinch and whimper as metals rolls on a pulley. You look over as a large door opens upwards on its gears. A dark figure stands before the low glow from within. He signals with a hand.

You go to them. Your heart pounds as you think of running. Of racing into the nothingness of the land. You won’t fare any better.

As you near Barnes, he watches you calmly. He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t appear as a man about to murder you. He seems entirely unbothered by your misdeed. You went above one of his men. You showed disloyalty. The worse sin among his ilk.

He touches your arm as if he were welcoming you into a house party, “doll.”

You look at him in confusion. Your eyes skim away from him. There’s a sheet of plastic hung from the ceiling. Behind it, a light shines although the curtain obscures it like oil in water. There’s a chair on the other side. You notice another sheet on the floor.

He’s silent as his hand slides down your arm. He squeezes and lets you go. He yanks the chain to lower the door. The squeak is jarring in the silence. There’s something else. Like a hiss and creak.

You startle again as he places his hand against your lower back. He walks you forward. Your steps are rigid and clunky. He takes you closer to the plastic curtain.

“Please, my sisters...”

He hushes you. You sniff back your voice and your tears spill over. He leads you past the curtain. You turn to look at the chair and find more than that. A man sits, bound and gagged. Your father.

Your heart plummets and your legs shake. Without meaning to, you lean on Barnes. He runs his hand up your back and clutches your shoulder before he draws away. He makes you stand on your own weight.

He marches toward your father. He squirms in the chair as the boss rounds him and stands behind it. He faces you, his eyes mellow against the fraught scene he presents to you.

“I thought on your request. I don’t often linger on things. I...” he pauses and thinks. “I make decisions. Tough ones and I make them quickly, otherwise, people get hurt.” He grips your father’s shoulders and pulls him to sit straight. The bound man grumbles and tries to thrash against the cord wrapped around him.

“I can’t kill him for you,” Barnes declares. Another tide of confusion swells over you. Why are you here?

Barnes steps away from the chair, his eyes pinpointed on you. He comes closer as he flips the small strap of his holster open. He slides out his pistol. You brace yourself. It’s a twisted game.

“Doll, you don’t ask for stuff like that. That’s not how it works,” He lifts the gun, offering it with the muzzle down. “You do that shit yourself.”

You bat away the tears as they dry up. You stare at him then look down at the gun. The silver but gleams under the glow of the hanging lightbulb above. The metal cage around it casts lines across you like a prison cell. He's dangling the key before you.

Your breath clogs in your throat.

“I did what I could. He’s right here. You get what you want but I don’t do your dirty work, doll,” he pushes the gun toward you. “You know how to aim?”

You shake your head and peel your dry lips apart. You look him in the face. You beg him with watery eyes.

“I can’t-- I’m not--”

“You came to my office and you said you want him dead. You don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” He snarls.

“I’m sorry-”

“Ain’t no apologies that can undo that,” he snips. “You get it?”

Your lip trembles. You don’t know what to do. What to say. It’s you or him. You dreamed of, you wished your father dead for years, but it was never real. Barnes is right though. You don’t say it out loud. You can’t take back those words.

“I saw what he did to you. It’s still there.” He lifts his free hand and touches the scab on your lip. “And he did the same to your sisters, didn’t he? And your ma before she died.”

“Stop,” you beg him.

“You got a choice. He knows what you asked for. He leaves this place and you won’t make it far,” he says. “Think about it. This is what you asked for. It’s what you didn’t say that night. If I do it, you get nothing. No closure. You been through of life of his torture. This is vendetta. He killed your ma. All those years, all those beatings...”

“No,” you whisper.

“No? So what happens? You go home to your sisters. I untie him. He’s not far behind. And they suffer too because he’s gonna think you worked together. Because you always do.” He says. “He won’t just get you, he’ll get them too.”

“No,” you shove his chest without thinking as you shriek. “No!”

He’s solid, unflinching against your force. You can tell by the grit in his jaw that he’s tolerating it for the sake of the moment. You pull your hands away and look past him.

You stare at that man. At that monster. Your boogeyman. Your abuser. And you know that Barnes is right. Your mother died a slow death at his hands. You can’t let the same happen to you or your sisters. You prayed for a way out. This is it. One chance.

One shot.

“Show me,” you put your hand on the gun, teeth chattering. “I don’t know what to do...”

He bows his head and pushes the gun against your hand. He looks down and moves your grip around it. “Like this.” He helps you grasp it and he moves around you. “Put your arms up.” He guides your arms up, “You wanna look down your arm, down the barrel.”

You see your father at the other end of the gun. His eyes are wide and gleaming. He wriggles against the cords. He grunts around the gag. The chair does not move. He’s trapped. Just like the little girls hiding in their closet as he bangs on the outside.

He’s scared. You’ve never seen him afraid.

Barnes explains but you barely hear him. Your heart surges with adrenaline and you stiffen with instinct. You’re ready. You’re ready.

“Then, you pull the trigger...” he says.

He lets you go and backs up. You sense his shadow behind you, then it fades away with the rest of the place. It’s only you and your father. The end.

You take a breath and move your finger to the trigger. You steady your hands as you brace the pistol with both, just like Barnes said. And you squeeze.

The bang is deafening and the force knocks you back. Your father lurches then his head slouches to the side at an unnatural angle. You gape at the sight of the hole beneath his cheek. Your arm drops and the gun hits the floor.

You stagger as your legs shake then fold beneath you. A new silence surrounds you in the echo of the single shot. The period at the end of the sentence.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #au #mob au #death wish #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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jihyoruri · 5 months ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ WINTER AND HER BAND GIRLFRIEND kim minjeong x reader

↳ warnings yn is apart of wave to earth, fluff, idol!au, yn is haerin’s older sister

𓇼꩜ jimin was the one who introduced her to wave to earth, minjeong personally thought the whole band was talented but there was something about the girls voice that always had her captivated, it was like she could put her sleep with how soft it sounded.

𓇼꩜ the day minjeong met yn from wave to earth was a pretty weird day, both her and yizhuo had finished filming a dance challenge with haerin and hanni from new jeans and were waiting with the two girls to get picked up from sm, making small talks with them but then something hanni said caught her attention.

𓇼꩜ “haerin actually has an older sister that’s an artist, the band is pretty popular.” what shocked minjeong even more was the fact that yizhuo actually did know, “yeah she’s apart of wave to earth right?” “what?!” “yeah she’s so cool, she’s actually picking us up.”

𓇼꩜ minjeong remembers how shocked she was at the fact that someone she was so close with was close to the person she had a small celebrity crush on.

𓇼꩜ when she came face to face with yn it felt like it was out of a movie, it wasn’t only her singing voice that was soft her speaking one was also, she was really captivating, she barely knew what to say when yizhuo outed her “winter unnie is actually a big fan of wave to earth, you’re her favourite.”

𓇼꩜ it was humiliating but it seemed like that whole day was just minjeong feeling shocked because yn surprisingly smiled and said that she was a big fan as well, she wished the conversation could’ve gone longer if it wasn’t for the fact that haerin’s social battery was low and she tugged on yn’s arm indicating that she was ready to go.

𓇼꩜ “give me your phone.” is what yizhuo said before snatching minjeong’s phone and going straight into instagram and dming yn, “what are you doing?!” “I’m doing you a favour.”

𓇼꩜ now everyday minjeong thanks yizhuo for snatching her phone from her.

the intoxicating smell of ripe peaches filled the entire apartment, mingling with the faint scent of rain drifting in through the slightly cracked window. minjeong perched on the kitchen island, her eyes following every graceful movement of her girlfriend. yn, with practiced ease, slid the freshly prepared peach pie into the preheated oven, a contented smile gracing her lips as she dusted the flour from her hands.

it was raining outside the rain becoming background noise along with the soft voice of frank ocean coming from yn’s record player, minjeong couldn't help but smile, captivated by the sight of yn swaying gently to the music, as yn hummed along, minjeong felt an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness wash over her.

she was definitely the most successful fangirl in the word.

"staring at me?" yn’s voice broke through minjeong's daze.

startled, minjeong blinked and refocused her gaze. yn stood before her, a playful, toothy grin lighting up her face, her sharp canines on full display. "you’re so obsessed with me," yn teased, a mischievous twinkle in her cat like eyes.

"shut up," minjeong grumbled, her cheeks flushing slightly as she tried to downplay her evident admiration. yn chuckled softly and moved closer, slipping between minjeong's legs as she sat on the island. she picked up a slice of peach from the counter, along with some other remnants of their pie-making adventure.

taking a bite of the peach, yn’s eyes never left minjeong's. the sweetness of the fruit mirrored the tenderness in her gaze. then, with a playful glint in her eye, she offered the remaining half to minjeong, gently pressing it against her lips until she took it into her mouth.

"I’m obsessed with you too," yn murmured, her voice soft and teasing, the words carrying a warmth that matched the cozy atmosphere around them.

"you know I’m not as obsessed as you make me out to be," minjeong mumbled, her gaze dropping low. she reached for the strings of the pajama shorts that hung low on yn’s hips, her fingers deftly tying them into a neat bow.

“oh really?”

“yeah, it wasn’t even me that texted you that one time it was ning,”

“then maybe I should go and give ning a fat kiss on her cheek as a thank you,” yn teases.

minjeong's eyes widened in surprise, her hands pausing mid-motion. the mere thought of yn kissing someone else, even as a joke, sent a jolt through her. her expression shifted from shock to playful indignation, a slight pout forming on her lips.

"you wouldn’t dare," she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and challenge. minjeong's hands resumed their gentle movements, her fingers brushing against yn’s hips as if to stake her claim.

yn laughed, "how about you set a timer for the pie, and I'll go pick out a movie for us to watch," she suggested, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

minjeong nodded, she slid off the island and made her way to the oven, the aroma of the baking pie growing stronger, as she carefully set the timer, she felt yn’s presence linger for a moment longer before she turned and padded towards the living room, only a few steps away.

"hey, when are you gonna go back to your dorms?" minjeong heard yn’s voice call out as she made her way over to where yn was sitting, comfortably nestled on the couch looking through netflix

minjeong settled next to her, a playful glint in her eyes as she responded, "never. I'm too obsessed with you."

#aespa #aespa x reader #winter x reader #winter aespa #winter #winter aespa x reader #aespa fluff #aespa imagines #girl group imagines #kim minjeong x reader #minjeong x reader #minjeong aespa

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celestite-caroline · 1 month ago

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shoutout to whimsey weatherbe for inventing the weather!

#my little pony #mlp g3 #mlp g3.5 #my little pony generation 3 #mlp generation 3 #whimsey weatherbe #art #artwork #illustration #fanart #digital art #my art #dragon art #cartoon art #kidcore #nostalgia #nostalgic art #2000s nostalgia #twinkle wish adventure

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lolotheparagon · 7 months ago

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MLP G3 Retrospective - Twinkle Wish Adventure (FINAL PART)

#g3 mlp #mlp g3.5 #core 7 mlp #twinkle wish adventure

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deepspacenova · 14 days ago

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𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄

2000 words | missing scene. dragon sylus. light-hearted. sort of fluff.

Beyond Cloudfall [Deleted Scene]: In which we experience the trials and tribulations of a frustrated dragon and a snobby mountain cat and how, exactly, that cat came to find the Sorceress of Ivory City.

Note: Dragon!Sylus lives to keep his chokehold on me another day! Haven’t been able to get this out of my head since (like MC) I realized Sylus went on a whole ass adventure to make her feel better with a cat. Full of self-indulgence and an out-of-his-depth Sylus. Hope you enjoy xx

The Dragon stood at the mouth of his cavernous home, gazing out at the rain-soaked city below with a stoic frown. The glowing embers of its citizens’ hearths twinkled in the distance, mocking him with their warmth. The scenery was almost peaceful—a true testament to how unbothered Tarus City was by the Legion’s mindless warpath. He didn’t know whether it was admirable or just another example of mortal stupidity.

Behind him, a disturbing silence clung to the rocky walls of the cave. The scent of the sorceress — which seemed to have nestled itself inconveniently into every crevice of his supernatural senses — marked her location atop a stone platform.

Though she toggled between the top of the cave she’d almost hurled herself over the other day — the sharp feeling in his gut from the incident, most likely irritation, had only just dissipated — and the platform, her silhouette remained the same. Knees drawn to her chest, blankly staring into space. He shifted uncomfortably, obsidian horns lightly scraping against the cave’s jagged overhang.

She wasn’t crying, he knew. She never cried, though he almost wished she would. That would’ve made it easier for him to write her behavior off as nothing more than some human hysterics.

Instead, she exuded a quiet, crushing sorrow that weighed more heavily on his conscience than he cared to admit. She’d been like this for days.

Despite the world’s insistence of his monstrosity, of his evil nature, the dragon didn’t innately enjoy her despair. In fact, she was weighing down the elation he should’ve been feeling over his long-awaited freedom. Shackle-less, far from the abyss, pillaging nearby towns. This should be a happy occasion for him, by the gods, and she was ruining it.

He’d already tried tributes. In his experience, mortals liked trinkets. The greed in their eyes when they gazed upon gold and jewels almost always overtook any other emotion. He grimaced as he recalled yet another way she defied those expectations the past few days, picturing those empty eyes glazing over further at the sight of his offerings.

The dragon sighed. He loathed how her sadness clawed at him, a grating reminder of the humanity he’d long since tried to bury. But she treated him... differently. This fragile, stubborn human.

Not as a man. Not even as a monster or a dragon. When she spit her version of fire at him, she looked at him as though he were something else entirely. Harmless, unremarkable, and, well, a nuisance.

It infuriated him, and yet he’d never been regarded with such… normalcy.

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws clicking softly against his scales. He needed to do something. Her melancholy was suffocating.

He unfurled his wings, the membrane stretching taut against the sharp gusts of wind that coiled around the mountain peak. With a powerful leap, he launched himself from the ledge, the force kicking up loose pebbles that scattered down the mountainside. The air whipped past him as he angled his descent toward the copse of trees clinging to the slope below.

The treetops swayed gently beneath his shadow as he descended and folded his wings tightly against his back. He strolled the area as his irritation bled into a sense of purpose.

“What does a human even want?” he muttered to himself.

As if in answer, a faint yowl drifted up from the distance. The dragon froze, senses on alert. Peering down the incline of the small forest, he spotted a small, shadowy figure weaving through the underbrush. A scruffy little thing, it had lowered onto its haunches, tail flicking as it hunted for something amidst the tall bushes.

A mountain cat.

He snorted at the absurdity of the creature’s arrogance. The cat was lean and scrappy, its fur sticking out in untamed tufts. It was prowling around with single-minded determination, oblivious to the real predator watching it from above.

“A creature as insufferably small and contrary as she is,” he scoffed. Then again…

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. Perhaps this... thing would do.

The thought of those despondent eyes brightening even slightly steeled his resolve.

Without another word, the dragon unfurled his wings and took flight, gliding effortlessly through the trees, just high enough to keep his approach silent. The soft crunch of underbrush and a flicker of the cat’s ears were the only signs of his arrival.

He stood motionless as the creature turned its curious yellow eyes toward him, fighting offense when it flicked its attention back to its prey, completely unbothered.

“Right,” the dragon said, crossing his arms. “You’ll come with me willingly, or I’ll drag you by your tail. Either way, your new destiny is to be a gift.”

Abandoning its prey, the cat sat up at the sound of his voice. Finally, some self-preservation in the face of his intimidating presence.

”So? What’ll it be, little beast?”

The cat blinked at him and then licked its paw, clearly unimpressed. The dragon narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t mistake this for a negotiation, now.” He crouched low, his tail coiling behind him. “I am Stayrus the Fiend. My name alone strikes fear into the hearts of—”

The cat darted away before he could finish, slipping into the underbrush with a small chirp. Growling in indignation, the dragon lurched forward, His wings folded against his back as he pursued, claws tearing through leaves and brambles in his path as the chase began.

It became quite apparent, however, that his dragon-like physique was more well-suited for widespread destruction rather than stealth. His horns snagged on low-hanging branches, his claws caught on roots, and his tail kept dragging in the soft earth, leaving deep gouges in his wake.

The infernal creature, meanwhile, moved like smoke, slipping effortlessly through gaps and crevices too small for him to navigate. Without his reptilian vision, the dragon was sure he’d have lost it by now.

“Cursed vermin,” he hissed, pausing to disentangle his tail from a thorny bush. “Do you even know who I am? I could scorch this entire hillside with a single breath.”

Though the mountain cat didn’t answer, it did take refuge atop a precariously balanced boulder near the cliffside, its gold eyes glowing mockingly in the moonlight. The dragon glared at it, debating the merits of simply incinerating the creature and presenting her with a pile of ash instead. But no, that wouldn’t do.

She wouldn’t smile at ash.

The ground beneath him was nowhere near strong enough to hold him for long so he shifted his weight and stepped forward carefully, determined to capture his prey. Just as he was close enough to extend his grasp, the cat sensed him and leapt to the next perch, then the next, its movements fluid and maddeningly graceful until it reached the edge of the cliff, paces away from plummeting toward its sad little death.

The dragon growled low in his throat.

“You test my patience, creature,” he snarled, lunging for it. His claws grazed its tail, but the cat slipped free, landing neatly on a patch of grass in the opposite direction.

It meowed at him — a taunt, he was certain of it — before darting off again.

The moon continued to rise over Tarus City as the hours passed and midnight arrived. The once-pristine hillside now bore visible scars of an angry dragon’s pursuit of a wily mountain cat: gouged soil, uprooted foliage, cracked branches, and a few unfortunate scorch marks where the dragon’s temper had flared. The cat, however, remained unscathed, not one patch of fur out of place.

He was reclined against a tree trunk to catch his breath, glaring at the smug feline — who was currently lying on its side, tail swishing calmly every few seconds — as he tried his hardest to hold together what remained of his composure.

And his dignity.

“Alright, enough games,” he rumbled, getting to his feet.

The dragon closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his footfalls as unrestrained as his frayed patience. To his astonishment, the cat did not flee. Instead, it sat up, blinked lazily at him, and began grooming itself, utterly unperturbed by the massive dragon towering above it.

“You’re mine,” he declared authoritatively as he reached for it, his moonlit shadow engulfing the small animal.

When his claws were inches from its fur, he hesitated, frowning as the cat glanced up and met the dragon’s gaze with an expression that could only be described as disdainful.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said flatly. “Have you been… playing?”

The feline exposed its teeth with a yawn.

The dragon huffed, a stream of smoke trailing from his exhale. “Fine,” he snapped. “But if you bite me, I swear—”

In one swift motion, he scooped the cat up, lifted it into the air, and nestled it into his arms. It only tensed for a moment before it settled, its tiny body warm against his chest. The dragon blinked, uncertain what to make of the sudden compliance and the contented rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate its body.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, cradling it awkwardly as he spread his wings. “Do not get used to this.”

The flight back to the cave was uneventful, though Sylus was acutely aware of the cat’s claws kneading his scales. It was a strange sensation, almost pleasant — though he’d be taking that confession to his grave.

When he landed, he paused at the cave entrance, staring into the dimly lit yet lavish interior where she still sat, her silhouette framed by the distant city. He frowned, his grip on the cat tightening slightly.

He couldn’t let her know it was from him. That would ruin everything.

Carefully, he placed the cat on the ground and gave it a gentle nudge toward the cave.

The cat hesitated, glancing back at him as if to say, you coming?

“Go, you vexing creature,” the dragon said, his voice low. “She’ll like you better than I do, that I can promise.”

The cat seemed to consider this, then accept it, padding cautiously into the cave. Every few seconds it would stop to sniff a treasure or rub the side of its face on a damned goblet, like it was purposefully pulling at the last strand of patience left in the dragon’s body.

Careful to stay hidden, he watched from the shadows as it approached her at last, its tail flicking curiously.

She didn’t notice until it brushed against her leg with a trilling chirp, causing her to blink down at her unexpected visitor.

“Where did you come from?” she murmured, her voice soft but warm. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing its fur. The cat made that contented rumbling noise again, leaning into her touch.

And then — finally — a faint smile graced her lips. It was a small thing, fragile, and gone almost as fast as it appeared. But it was enough to melt a block of tension from his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

As she started to sigh and coo over the smug bastard — who was acting as if it had scaled the mountainside to reach her on its own four paws — the dragon backed away, retreating to his usual perch deeper in the cave.

He couldn’t say he’d be willing to go through the hours he had spent chasing that infuriating creature again. The frustration and humiliation. The near-incineration of half this mountain.

But seeing that ray of joy banish the stormy dimness from her gaze for a fleeting moment? Well, suddenly the grave indignities he’d suffered that night didn’t smart so badly.

Let her think it was fate, or luck, or some divine gift. Let her smile. That was all that mattered.

He settled in to watch her from afar.

“You’re welcome, my nemesis.”

#I just want to see this man humbled by his love for MC #and a small sassy kitty #is that so much to ask #sylus #dragon Sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #lads mc #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #Drabble #sylus fanfic #qin che #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #my writing #nova writing

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lurvly-malice · 8 months ago

Text

"What are you doing to me?"

Pairing: Harvey x GN!Farmer

Summary: Just Harvey being smitten for the farmer whose always occupying his clinic, and mind

A/N: just a fluffly drabble, because Harvey's been dominating my mind lately and I'm bored lol

With each reckless adventure you pursued, you returned to his clinics doorstep with a collection of scratches, bruises, and cuts, and of course, the innocent smile that adorned your face - the sight would be the death of him.

And each time, he would usher you into the clinic in alarm, he was beginning to suspect you did this on purpose, with the proud look in your eyes that suggested you had him right where you wanted as he doted on you.

'It’s only been a week, really, you would think you’d take more care of yourself by now' he often said under his breath, his voice trembling with nervousness.

You would chuckle, laughter so infectious, brushing off your injuries as normal relics of your adventures. 'Just a few bumps and bruises…nothing you haven't seen before.' you retort, alluding to your countless visits for this sort of thing.

Harvey's lips would twitch into a wry smile as he guided you to the examination table. Your adventurous spirit both fascinated and alarmed him. It was foreign to him, and couldn't fathom how willingly you’d over exert yourself in those darn mines, stirring within him a whirlwind of emotions.

As he applied bandages and ointments, his hands couldn't help but tremble. The sight of your injuries, no matter how trivial, sent his heart into a frenzy. As a doctor, he'd seen such it all, and yet even the sight of a purple bruise on your soft skin made him want to faint. Each touch of your skin ignited a spark he could neither ignore nor deny, no matter how much practice he’d had treating patients every day. He'd learnt his lesson by now - you weren't a regular patient.

‘I really do wish you’d be more careful,' he would murmur, his fingers tracing over a shallow cut on your arm. 'You... you're hurt too often.'

And then you would respond with a comment like ‘but you’ll take good care of me, right?’, casually sending the poor man’s heart into a tailspin, because of course he would, always.

‘I-I’m serious, you know-’ he sighed, trying so hard to sound annoyed, but he wasn't, his concern evident in his shaky words, ‘I care about you’ he managed, avoiding eye contact with you under the pretence of focusing on your present injury.

But of course, like always, you didn't take him very seriously, and just leaned in a little, eyes twinkling. ‘I care about you too, Harvey’ which had his head snapping up, wide eyes meeting your amused ones, unable to mask his flustered expression - what was he going to do with you?

Harvey's breath caught in his throat. Your words had always elicited such a potent reaction, but this time, it felt different. The weight of his own unspoken feelings pressed down on him.

Your visits had become a sweet torment for Harvey. How sweet you looked, scratched up arm extended offering him a gift - always his favourites, which you somehow had memorised to a tee, ignoring the pain you felt just to see him flustered as he accepted them.

Harvey's constant worry over your well-being extended to himself. The mere thought of seeing you sent his temperature soaring and his pulse racing. The symptoms he experienced—sweaty palms, flushed cheeks, and a pounding heart—often led him to question his own health.

'Oh dear, I must be coming down with something,' he would mutter to himself, his stethoscope barely grazing his chest in a futile attempt to make sense of his frazzled state.

What were you doing to him?

#sdv #stardew #stardew valley #stardew fandom #sdv harvey #stardew harvey #stardew valley harvey #harvey x farmer #harvey sdv #harvey stardew valley #harvey stardew #harvey fanfic #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv harvey x reader #harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey fanfic

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