#but again I need to touch grass so whatever

[dizzydaisychains]

ℭ𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔬

⋆｡°✩ pairing: sylus x reader

⋆｡°✩ word count: 10k

⋆｡°✩ summary: because sometimes, love grows quietly; thorns and all (or alternatively: eight times sylus falls in love, and one time he actually says it out loud.

⋆｡°✩ ao3 link (if you would like to read it on there instead): https://archiveofourown.org/works/64993741

I.

It starts on a Tuesday. 

And really, Sylus should have seen it coming from a mile away, should have taken note of the flashing neon signs that his brain had been setting up for him ever since he found you again, but like most trivial things, he’s chosen to ignore it for the time being. Ignorance is bliss after all, but now, in this current situation, he’s beginning to wonder if it’s too late to run. 

Because it’s 2am on a Tuesday night, and instead of cleaning up a job gone wrong or dusting his vinyl collection for the nth time, he’s lying in the grass in a field outside Linkon city, your head on his chest as both of you stare up at the glittering constellations spread over the night sky. 

And no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on Cassiopeia or Orion, all he can think about is all the ways he can get you to stay here a little longer. 

It’s like the first sign of sunshine after a particularly long winter, or the feeling of falling into bed after a long day. Being with you has made all those years of solitude worth it, has given his life purpose when he had slowly been sinking into eternal ennui, yet, for some reason, he can’t find the words to tell you this. Words usually come easy to him. Striking a deal, manipulating a soul; he’s mastered the art of conversation in every shape and form, but when it comes to you, he finds that most of his words aren’t enough.

On top of that, there’s also the fact that your current relationship is delicate. His abysmal attempts of getting you to remember him had only ended up earning him your resentment. Since then, he has vowed to never let that happen again, but this slow pace is burning him alive. Are you two even dating? Everything is vague, yet nothing feels as clear as this; him holding you in his arms as you both pick apart the stars, trying to make sense of why they burn and how long it would take to reach one.

“Sylus?”

Your voice lulls Sylus out of his thoughts, his eyes landing on your soft gaze. 

“What are you thinking about?”

Sylus shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

He tries to ignore the look you give him as you reach out and trace the crinkle between the bridge of his nose and his forehead. 

“Liar. I can see your frown lines. You’re worried about something.”

Sylus scoffs. “I never worry, Kitten. I’m too powerful for that.” 

“Oh really? Then what about that time you thought you scratched your favourite vinyl? Or the time I nearly shrunk your sweater in the dryer?”

“Do you often keep note of my habits like this?” He smiles as he notices a faint blush appear on your cheeks.

“Force of habit. I’m a Hunter. I need to keep a close eye on Linkon’s most wanted.”

“Ah, so you still see me as someone dangerous . I see how it is…”

“You know that’s not true.” 

Sylus huffs as you shift your position to face him properly. He can’t help but love how his hands naturally gravitate towards your waist, gently steadying you as you look down at him with a pout on your lips.

“Do you really still believe I think of you like that?” 

Sylus holds his breath as you hold his face in your hands. Warm. Your hands are always so warm. Sylus craves it. Craves your touch, craves your soft fingertips on his skin as he looks at you wondering if you can tell that he wants nothing more than to kiss you until he runs out of breath. 

“Then what do you think of me?” Sylus asks, voice low. 

“You are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you,” you sing with a soft smile.

Sylus smirks. “So you went with the words of E.E Cummings. When did you start learning to recite poetry like that?”

“Since you started reading it to me at night when you think I’m asleep.”

“Well aren’t you always full of surprises?”

Sylus smiles as one of your hands moves to his hair, twirling the loose strands between your fingers. It’s all so intimate . He doesn’t know how much longer he can restrain himself, your sweet scent is driving him insane. Would it be so bad to kiss you? To admit that maybe…the feeling is real? Would fate be so cruel as to punish him for confessing to what it has cursed him to do until the end of time? 

But perhaps, it isn’t up to him at all, because it’s you who leans in and kisses him, once, then twice, and then he loses count, his grip on your hips tightening as you hold his face, guiding him as he chases the burning feeling in his stomach.

And he desperately tries to ignore it, the thorns curling around his chest. You know where this ends, his conscience hisses at him. You’ll lose her again if you keep giving in to your desires. The weight of the dragon’s curse will haunt you until your last breath–

“Sylus …”  Your desperate voice breaks through the darkness. 

“Sylus..I…I…”

“It’s okay,” Sylus pants in between kissing you. “It’s okay Kitten, you don’t have to say anything.”

“But–”

He deepens the kiss and you moan, your hips grinding against him. It’s too much. Sylus knows he has to stop. Christ, he doesn’t want to though. You feel amazing in his lap, his hands gliding up your soft thighs. 

“Kitten…” He pulls away and looks at your swollen lips, the desire in your eyes. 

“Why’d you stop?” you whine, grinding in his lap, which makes him laugh a little. The darkness in his heart subsides briefly. 

“Now isn’t the time and place.”

“Why do you always have to be right,” you sigh in response, leaning against his chest as you both catch your breath under the stars. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, trying his best to keep it together. 

Perhaps it is too late to run. 

Sylus shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, tries to shut out the voices in his head.

There’s no denying it;

He’s falling in love.

And so, it starts on a Tuesday, but really, deep down, Sylus knows it started long before that. 

II.

Admitting that he’s in love is one thing, but accepting it is another predicament that Sylus has been unsuccessfully avoiding over the past week. 

He sighs deeply as he stares out the window of his office, his hand stroking Mephisto’s sleek feathers a few times before heading towards his desk where a pile of paperwork sits waiting to be read through and signed. One of the top ten ‘perks’ of being the leader of a powerful mafia gang; fucking paperwork. 

Taking a seat, he runs a hand through his hair and begins to scan through the documents. It’s a tedious task. It takes him about two hours to even make it halfway through the pile. 

He’s beginning to feel the start of migraine forming in the back of his head when suddenly, the door bursts open and the twins come tumbling in.

“What have I said about knocking before entering?” 

“Sorry, Boss! But it’s urgent,” Kieran waves a phone in his face, Sylus’ own phone to be exact. He must have left it in the dining room after breakfast this morning.

“Whoever it is, tell them I’m occupied,” Sylus scoffs, turning his attention back to the document in front of him. 

“Err…Boss…I think you might want to look at this.” It’s Luke this time, the bolder one of the two. Sylus flicks his gaze upwards, curious to see what exactly is so urgent. 

“It’s…well it’s her. She’s in a bit of trouble. Seems like she’s been kidnapped. They said they won’t harm her if we let them talk to you.”

The twins must feel the chill in the air as the temperature immediately drops. They shiver as Sylus slowly stands up, one hand taking the phone from Luke, the other slowly curling into a fist as his Evol begins to swirl around the room. 

“You have ten seconds to give me your location,” Sylus says into the phone, voice deadly calm, but it’s a voice that the twins know all too well. Luke elbows Kieran before mining a blade sliding across his throat. Whoever is on the other end of the phone might as well start planning their funeral.

“We’re not giving you anything until you agree to our terms,” the voice on the other end of the phone hisses. “We heard your little Hunter here has an Aether Core in her possession. However, she won’t cooperate. We’re not exactly sure where she’s hiding it though, and she’s been quite difficult to extract information from–”

“If you fucking lay a finger on her, you’ll be sorry you were ever even born,” Sylus growls, to which the voice on the other side of the phone laughs in response to.

“Convince her to give us the Aether Core. If you can do that, we’ll let her walk free.”

“Are you asking me to make a deal with you?”

“I heard you love making deals. Tell you what, we’ll throw in an extra batch of enhanced protocores, just because I’m feeling generous.”

“And your location?”

“The abandoned warehouse downtown. You know the N109 Zone well enough to figure out which one.”

Sylus takes a deep breath. 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. If I see a single mark on her when I get there,” he pauses, fingers tracing over the gun on his desk. 

“Well, it’s already a bit too late for you anyway. You’ll find out soon enough what exactly it means to strike a deal with me.”

He hangs up the phone and looks at Luke and Kieran, his scarlet eyes blazing, but his demeanour as calm as ever. 

“Gather whatever weapons you’ll need and meet me outside in five minutes. Looks like the paperwork will have to wait.”

They salute him. “Yes, sir!” 

Sylus smirks. Good thing he was feeling bored anyway. 

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

It only takes him seven minutes to track down the warehouse, and it takes him even less time to annihilate the ‘security’ that the kidnappers had set up to delay him. By the time he makes it to where they’re holding you hostage, most of the vermin have either fled or have met an untimely end. 

Only half a dozen remain, and they surround you and a tall man in a trench coat like magpies protecting a sacred treasure. Sylus looks at you, tied to a chair, a bored expression on your face. 

Noticing his arrival, you give him a cheerful wave despite an ugly bruise on your cheek. The sight of it makes Sylus want to burn the warehouse to the ground. 

“Took you long enough!” you yell at him, causing one of the thugs to jab at you with the muzzle of a gun.

“Traffic was bad,” Sylus replies, which only makes you smile at him. Oh, he’s going to enjoy this all right. 

Sylus takes a step forward as the gang raise their guns, all six of them aiming at you in the chair.

“Don’t move or we’ll shoot her!”

Sylus rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.

“I come in peace,” he says dryly, a lazy smirk on his face. The thug in the trench coat (who Sylus has already clocked as the asshole leader he had spoken previously with on the phone) walks towards him, clapping his hands like an idiot. 

“Well done! You managed to take out my security. But sadly, we need to shake on our deal before I hand over little Miss Hunter.” He walks towards Sylus, his arm outstretched to reveal a grubby looking hand.

Sylus lowers his arms and lets the man come to him. “Ah, I see. Yes, we made a deal, but it seems you haven’t kept your end of the bargain up. She seems to have a number of marks on her face.” 

“She needed to be disciplined.”

“Do you enjoy picking on your enemies when they’re at their weakest? Binding her hands and her feet while you beat her. Is that really fair?” Sylus tilts his head to the side in mock curiosity.

“She kicked my shin and spat on me. Tying her up was one of my nicer punishments.”

“That’s my feisty little Kitten for you. Rile her up like that and she’ll scratch you.”

Sylus watches as the man comes to a halt in front of him. A pale, sinewy looking man up close. He tuts in disappointment. At least dress like a leader before you start acting like one, he thinks to himself. 

The man motions for Sylus to shake his hand, except, before Sylus can even react, the man whips out a pistol and shoots him in the chest.

“Ouch,” Sylus deadpans, watching as the man’s expression changes from arrogantly confident to extremely concerned. It’s a look that Sylus is used to seeing, and honestly, he should be tired of it by now, but deep down; this is his favourite part of the game.

“H-How…” the man stammers, but it’s already too late, and Sylus can’t stop his smile from spreading as he knocks the pistol out of the man’s hand, his Evol snaking around the man’s body, curling around his arms, his legs, until suddenly it engulfs him fully, squeezing, choking….the man doesn’t even realise it’s too late until poof! He’s gone. 

Sylus turns his attention to the remaining thugs. One look from him and they drop their guns before scattering like rats in a sewer. 

“Luke, Kieran,” Sylus says as the twins seemingly materialise by his side.  “Clean up the rest of this mess. Make sure none of them leave here alive.”

“Yes, Boss!” The twins scamper off, giggling like kids in a playground. 

Sylus makes his way over to you and crouches down, his hands moving swiftly to untie you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle.

“What? No smart comments about how the hell did I manage to get kidnapped?” you mumble, feeling embarrassed that he had to save you. 

“I figured your pride was already hurt enough.”

You sigh in annoyance as Sylus finishes freeing your feet and hands. “They managed to inject me with a tranquilizer. Bastards. I would have been able to take them if they hadn't of caught me off guard.”

“Not like you to be caught off guard like that.”

“I was buying ice cream after a long shift.”

Sylus laughs, reaching out to cup your cheek with his palm. You wince a little as his fingers graze your bruise. 

“Does it hurt, Kitten?” His eyebrows furrow in concern. 

You shrug. “Just a little. Nothing an ice pack can’t heal.”

He scans the rest of your body, searching for more injuries, but you reach up and surprise him with a hug, pulling him tightly into your arms.

“Thanks for coming for me. For a second I thought you wouldn’t pick up your phone. You usually sleep during the day.”

Sylus shuts his eyes as he lifts you into his arms, the knot of worry untying in his chest now that you’re safe.

“I had some paperwork to get through. Had to wake up early to sign a few things.”

You laugh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck . “The leader of Onychinus doing paperwork? Surely you have an admin person that can do all that for you.”

“Too many secrets in the paperwork. Can’t trust anyone.”

“How about me? I can help you.”

Sylus pinches your side.

“Hey! That tickles.”

“Hilarious how you think I’d let a Hunter pry into Onychinus’ affairs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I already know where your base is. If I didn’t like hanging out with you so much I would have turned you in by now.” 

You let out a small yawn as Sylus’ head spins, your words making him feel like a fireworks display has suddenly erupted in his heart.  

“Can you take me to your place on your motorcycle? I’m too tired to call a taxi back to my apartment after today's events.”

Sylus gets to his feet, still carrying you in his arms as you rest your head against his chest.

“Depends. Are you going to make me watch another bad comedy film to try and make me stay awake during the day again?”

You punch his chest lightly. 

“You pick a movie then. But it can’t be one of the black and white silent films you like to watch. Are you sure you’re not ninety years old?”

Sylus doesn’t say anything to that. Just pinches you again, but he can’t seem to take the stupid grin off his face. 

A small glimmer of hope shines through the walls of the castle he has built around himself. Perhaps loving you in this life doesn’t have to end in tragedy. Perhaps fate might grant the two of you mercy if he can protect you properly this time.

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

And as it turns out, there is a way to make paperwork slightly more interesting. He discovers this later that evening, and it involves bending you over his mahogany desk, his hands on your hips, your body spread over the documents as you beg him to fuck you faster.

“Sylus, ” you moan, turning your face to look at him as he holds your wrists in his hands, firmly keeping them behind your back. “Feels so good…I…I don’t know if I can stand much longer.”

He curses as he notices your trembling thighs. Fuck, it makes him feel so fucking hard seeing you like this. But you’re right. You’ve been through a lot today, so he should take it slow and steady with you.

With all the gentleness of the first snowfall of winter, he picks you up and carefully places you on the table, spreading your legs as your back lays against the paperwork. You whine as you feel his cock slip out of you, hating the feeling of being without him for even a second. 

Sylus soothes you with a soft kiss before he puts himself inside of you once more, giving you a few seconds to adjust before he starts thrusting again. 

“Sylus, please. I need you to fuck me like you mean it. I need to feel you in me,” you beg, eyes filled with nothing but lust as you stare at him from behind long lashes.

And who is he to refuse? He fucks you until you scream his name, fucks you until you both come, your arms spread over the paperwork as if you were an angel with wings made of pure divinity. 

III.

“Sylus, look!”

Sylus stares at the matching pair of couple’s pyjamas in your hands. Baby pink and baby blue. The pyjamas also have matching baby chicks printed all over them. They seem to stare menacingly at him with their little cartoon eyes as he examines their ugly faces. 

“We have to buy them!” 

Sylus grimaces as you wave them in his face. He supposes this what he gets for agreeing to shopping with you. 

“They’re not exactly my taste.”

He watches with amusement as you give him your best puppy eyes. 

“But you’d look so cute in them.” You continue to wave them around, as if you’re trying to hypnotize him into liking them. 

“Not a chance.” Sylus walks off, trying to hide his laughter as you continue to pout behind his back. 

“You’re so boring,” you grumble as you put the pyjamas back on the rack, trailing after Sylus through the department store. 

“Oh wow!” 

Sylus watches as you walk excitedly towards a pair of earrings on display in the jewellery section. A simple pair of studs in the shape of little dragons. Their wings have small rubies encrusted in them. 

“Something else caught your eye?” Sylus sidles up next to you, examining the earrings through the glass. 

“Uh…it’s a bit out of my budget,” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers awkwardly. 

“Such a shame,” Sylus laments, folding his arms. “They would suit you.”

You reach up and pinch his cheek. “No need to rub salt in the wound.” 

You walk off, leaving Sylus alone with the earrings glistening up at him. He waits until you’re a few metres away before calling over the store clerk. 

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I’ll take these.” Sylus gestures towards the earrings. “Can you gift wrap them for me?”

“Of course. Just to let you know, these are part of a couple’s set.” She motions towards a necklace with the charm of a dragon’s wing on it. 

Sylus isn’t even surprised. Fate loves tormenting him after all. Always dropping little reminders of his curse. The earrings were one thing, but a matching necklace… he should have known.

But despite it all, he eyes the piece with interest, tapping his chin in thought as the rubies shine up at him. 

“I think your partner would love you to wear it,” the store clerk says, eyes shining. “I know my job is to upsell…but between you and me, the girl who was with you earlier…she looks at you as if you’re the most important person in the world.”

Sylus nearly chokes. He hadn’t really noticed that before. 

“I’ll take the set.”

He supposes this could be a way of saying fuck you! to fate for once. 

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

He gives the earrings to you later that evening, playing it casual as he hands you the box before sitting in his armchair and pulling out a book of sonnets, his eyes peeking over the top of the pages as he secretly tries to gauge your reaction.

“Sylus! You shouldn’t have bought them! They cost a fortune!” You thank him with a kiss that’s sweeter than the spring flowers that grow in the valley of a mountain range.

Sylus shrugs as he watches you run off to admire the jewellery in the mirror above the fireplace. 

“Money isn’t an issue,” he says, nonchalant. 

“I know that, but still! You don’t have to buy me things.”

He gets to his feet and takes the earrings from your hands.

“Allow me.”

He carefully inserts the earrings into your earlobes, loving how they compliment you so well. 

“Beautiful,” he breathes, tilting your chin up.

“Thank you.”

“I was talking about the earrings, not you.”

“Sylus!”

His laughter is loud enough to fill the entire Onychinus base.

Little does Sylus know that you spot the matching necklace peeking out from under his shirt later that night, but you don’t mention it, afraid that he’ll take it off in embarrassment.

Sometimes some secrets are best kept hidden.

IV.

“Mister Sylus?”

Sylus sighs as he twirls a handful of linguine around his fork. 

He is not having a good week. 

The whole love situation has been driving him a little insane recently. After facing the obvious and admitting to himself that, okay, maybe he is falling in love with you again (not that he had ever really stopped being in love with you), he had finally made peace with the whole situation. 

Until of course, the nightmares started, and now he’s lost count of all the ways he’s watched you die in front of him.

Dreams are just dreams , he knows this. But that doesn’t make them less terrifying. He’s the head of Onychinus for Christ’s sake. It’s a known fact that nothing really scares him. But losing you again…no. He’s not letting it happen. And after the kidnapping incident, he’s made sure that something like that won’t ever happen again. He has Mephisto giving him daily updates, making sure that no one suspicious has been tailing you. 

But the darkness still resides in his heart. So instead of letting it get the better of him, he’s been trying to stay awake. In total, he’s probably been getting four hours of sleep every night for the past few days.

And of course, to top it all off, he’s been cleaning up Onychinus related messes all week (none of which were his fault, but all of them required his assistance, apparently). Between dealing with a missing batch of protocores and a shoot-out with a group of idiots that couldn’t hit him no matter bullets they fired, Sylus is on the verge of losing his mind as he sits across another useless mole that Luke and Kieran found for him, and now he has to deal with it on very little sleep. 

“Your lies, they’re boring me,” Sylus says eventually, eyes still on his pasta. “My time is precious, and you’re wasting it.”

His gaze moves slowly to the man opposite him. A sheen of sweat has broken across his forehead. It makes Sylus smirk, the effect he can have on people. 

“I promise Mister Sylus, I would never lie to you. My loyalty to Onychinus is–”

“Unwavering? Infinite? Please, I’ve heard it all before.” Sylus curls his hand into a fist, the familiar feeling of power coursing through his veins as his Evol snakes around his wrist, slowly seeping into his fingertips. 

“Mister Sylus…” the man watches him with bulging eyes. “I-I swear–”

“Swear on your life? Don’t worry. You won’t have to make false promises anymore.”

And really, he’s about to have the most fun he’s had all week, because there’s nothing more satisfying than the feeling of having his energy consume another weak soul. His fingers twitch as his Evol creeps towards the mole’s throat. Three…two…one…

“Wanderer!”

They have got to be fucking joking.

Sylus curses as a Wanderer suddenly crashes through the window of the restaurant, forcing him to take cover as glass shatters all around him. Familiar screams of terror fill the air as the Wanderer begins to destroy everything within a two metre radius, and the mole, God damn it, the mole has somehow managed to slip away in all the chaos. As if his day couldn’t get any worse. 

He thinks he might just call it a day and let someone else deal with this mess. He’s already cleaned up about three incidents today anyway. He sighs as he stands up and dusts off his jacket, tutting as he notices a sizeable stain on his shirt. He’ll have to get Luke and Kieran to send it off for dry cleaning later. 

He glances outside at the chaos on the streets. About six Wanderers are crashing through the square, the protofield already beginning to form. Sirens wail in the near distance and soon enough the Hunters flood the streets, right on cue. It’s enough to give him a very inconvenient headache. He’s about to use his Evol to disappear when he hears something that makes him freeze. 

“Everybody, please remain calm!” 

A stern voice that can be heard above all the chaos. A voice that Sylus would recognise in every universe, in every lifetime. You. 

“Please evacuate the area as quickly as possible! The Unicorns will take it from here!”

And all of a sudden, Sylus is on the street pushing roughly through the crowd, heading towards you, his Evol pulsing in his veins as the familiar sense of power builds in his bones.

“Take cover!”

He barely has time to dodge as a car flies over his head, barely has time to register that the car is flying straight towards you, your back turned as you shield a child in your arms. 

He’s seen this before. So many times. The nightmares always end the same. But this isn’t one of his nightmares.

This is real. 

"Run!” Someone screams, and Sylus watches in slow motion as you turn around too late, your eyes widening as you see the car hurtling towards you at a hundred miles an hour, ready to land right where you stand. 

Shrill screams, a blur of red and black, and suddenly the car freezes, as if caught by an invisible force, only it isn’t quite that. Wisps of scarlet smoke wrap around the car, crushing it until it dissipates into dust, and in front of it all, shielding you and the child, is Sylus. 

“Are you alright?” Sylus pants, slightly out of breath as he turns around and scans your body for any injuries.

Too stunned to speak, you stare at him in awe as the child clings onto your leg. 

“How…where…” you stammer. He pulls you into a brief hug before he takes your face into his hands and gives you a stern look. 

“What exactly are we looking at here?”

“High metaflux fluctuations in this area. There’s about twelve Wanderers, and the protofield is forming quickly. We need to evacuate the citizens and eliminate the Wanderers as fast as we can before they spread the protofield further over Linkon,” you say, scanning through the slides on your Hunter’s watch.

Sylus nods. “You guide the child to safety. I’ll start with the Wanderer that nearly took you out with a car.” He points at the fountain in the centre of the square. 

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. You can help me finish the rest of them off.”

You give him a look as you lift the child into your arms. “I only need five.”

“That’s my girl,” Sylus says, watching as you sprint away, his heart warm.

With you by his side, perhaps today won’t be a bad day after all.

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Two hours later, three close encounters, one scratched forehead and one broken fountain, Sylus finds himself sitting beside you on a piece of rubble, a cap and a pair of sunglasses hiding his face as you frantically look around, triple checking that no one is giving Sylus any strange looks. 

“We just killed a dozen Wanderers, Sweetie. I doubt anyone is worrying about the N109 Zone’s crime lord gracing them with a surprise appearance.” He hands you a mango ice pop. 

“A reward for your performance today.”

Satisfied that Sylus is unrecognisable to the public eye, you take a bow as you accept the ice pop before taking a seat beside Sylus in the rubble. 

“Always a pleasure fighting alongside a crime lord.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve gotten stronger. Our training is paying off.” Sylus can’t help but feel proud of your strength. 

“You need to work on your defence though.” His fingers reach out to gently touch the graze on your forehead. 

You shake him off. “I can handle an injury or two.”

“I know you can,” Sylus sighs, looking at the determination in your eyes. “But sometimes you run recklessly into things. It’s important to think before throwing your punches.”

“Well, I know you’ll always have my back to pull me out of trouble anyway,” you say with a shrug before sneaking a bite of his ice pop. 

Sylus opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by your Hunter’s watch buzzing. 

You get to your feet and give him a mock salute. “Duty calls, I guess. Maybe I’ll see you later? How about a movie night in my apartment?”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “And if I say I already have plans?”

“Cancel them.” You lean down and give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

Sylus can only smile as he watches you run off. You blow him goodbye kisses as a group of Hunters throw their arms around your shoulders, congratulating you on another successful mission.

V.

Flowers can’t grow in the N109 Zone, unless of course, you know the right people, or unless you’re the leader of Onychinus, which Sylus just so happens to be, thus, this is how he finds himself in a little corner shop tucked away from the the busy streets of the N109 Zone’s main square. A miracle really, how it has managed to survive in such a desolate place, but the owner has a special kind of Evol that can make flowers bloom even in darkness.  

“So how can I help you today, Mister Sylus?”

A young girl with a green apron and a gentle demeanor blinks up at him with curious eyes. He supposes it’s not everyday that someone like him would be in a shop like this. 

“I need to buy flowers for a friend,” he says, looking around at the bouquets sprawling out from the shelves around him. It feels as if the flowers are responding to his presence, the pretty ones shaking their petals, trying to get him to reach out and touch them so they can have a peek into his desires. 

“And the occasion?” The girl tilts her head to the side, but she’s looking at him as if she’s already figured out the answer. It’s a little unnerving. He wonders if this is how his enemies often feel when he’s picking them apart with the Aether Core in his eye. 

“No occasion,” Sylus hums, turning his attention to a sunflower that has begun to poke him with its leaves. “Do all your flowers greet your customers like this?”

The girl laughs. “The flowers have a mind of their own. I only use my Evol to encourage them. You can’t tame what’s natural, you know.”

“And what are your flowers telling you now?” Sylus reaches out to touch the leaves that are reaching for him. 

The girl folds her arms. “That you’re not buying flowers for a friend.” 

“Perhaps not,” Sylus sighs, feeling the familiar sensation of invisible thorns pressing into his chest. “How do you tell someone they mean the world to you? That you’d search for them in every lifetime? In every dimension…you would choose them over something as precious as life?”

“Zinnia.”

Sylus watches as the girl waves her fingers and summons a small bunch of magenta coloured flowers. “Representing everlasting affection and endurance due to their willingness to grow. They’re tough little guys to grow too. They need a lot of encouragement.”

Sylus smiles, thinking back to a memory of you standing over the little plant you left on his window sill in his bedroom, one hand on a small water can, the other tapping the leaves of the plant with soft affection.

“Make sure you grow big and strong so Sylus won’t have to feel lonely anymore, okay?” 

Sylus watches you from the doorframe, your back facing him, completely unaware that he’s even there. 

“He doesn’t say it in front of me because he thinks it makes him look weak, but I know it upsets him that nothing can grow in the N109 Zone.” He watches as you bend down and kiss the petals of the plant.

“So prove him wrong and make sure you grow big and strong. Make him smile when I’m not here.”

“Mister Sylus?” 

The girl’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Sylus nods. 

“Two months ago, I received a letter from an unknown sender who invited me to open a flower shop at this exact location in the N109 Zone. The letter stated that it would cost me nothing, that my exceptional Evol was enough payment for whatever the cost of the shop would be.”

She looks at him then, really looks at him. He supposes he should have seen this coming. Secrets are one of the top selling items in the N109 Zone. 

“Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s a big risk accepting an invitation to the N109 Zone from a stranger?” Sylus asks.

“I suppose I left out a crucial part of the story.” The girl motions to a letter that hangs on a corkboard over the counter by the cash register. “The letter had the stamp of Onychinus on the bottom of it.”

“Yet you still came and opened your little shop.”

“I know you sent that letter yourself. I know you asked me to come here and open a flower shop in a place where flowers can’t even grow. I just couldn’t figure out why. There’s rumours about you, you know. That you can kill a person with just a flick of your wrist. That you have horns and a tail that only come out when someone is about to die.”

“Are you upset that the rumours were false? Or are you perhaps scared that I’m here today to prove that they might be true?”

“A man that requests someone to open a flower shop in Hell…he doesn’t kill for sport. No, you’re not what people think you are.”

Sylus laughs as he throws up his hands in mock surrender. “Do you interrogate all your customers like this?”

“You’re exactly how I thought you’d be. Arrogant, sarcastic, yet you’re here because there’s one thing you can’t figure out, and you think flowers might be able to do the job for you.” 

The girl gives him a smirk. “You’re in love, Mister Sylus. You’re so in love that you tracked down an Evolver that can make flowers bloom anywhere so you could send flowers to your beloved.”

Sylus sighs, tired of the game now that the exciting part is over. “So you’ve caught me. However, I haven’t had the chance to buy any flowers for her yet.”

“Too busy closing deals and blowing up buildings?”

“Something like that.”

The girl rolls her eyes. “You know the best way to tell someone you love them is actually telling them.”

“And if words aren’t enough?” Sylus sweeps his hand through the air, motioning towards the flowers. 

“I suppose roses would also work. Classic eternal love. Or Chrysanthemums. Faithfulness and longevity.”

“And what about those flowers?” Sylus twirls his fingers as his Evol tickles the petals of flowers that point towards the ceiling. Solitary, beautiful, they stand out like fresh snow on top of a mountain peak.

“Antirrhinums,” the girl says with a soft expression. “Also known as Snapdragons. White represents purity and grace. The purple ones represent love at first sight.”

A thousand memories flash through his mind as he stares at the flowers.

“I’ll take all of the Snapdragons you have.” 

“All of them? Unusual. Nobody really picks the Snapdragons. They’re often overshadowed by their peers.”

“People will often stay away from anything associated with dragons,” Sylus snorts as he walks towards the little flowers. 

“Dragons are solitary creatures. Even catching a glimpse of one can cost you your soul.” He reaches out to touch the delicate petals with his fingers. The girl watches him with interest. Surely the leader of Oncychinus is not as vulnerable as this? 

“But even dragons have a soft spot for beautiful things such as flowers.” Sylus touches his hair, feeling the ghost of a flower tucked between the strands. 

Years come and go. Sylus wonders if he’ll ever be able to save you from the cursed merry-go-round of fate. 

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

He gets a phone call that evening.

“Did you really send me one hundred and nine bouquets of flowers?”

“And how did you get to that exact number?”

“I counted them all of course!”

“Usually people would say thank you by now.”

“I was getting to that. You’re just impatient.”

“I have all the patience in the world, Kitten.”

A beat of silence. 

“I had to look them up online because I’ve never seen them before. They’re called Snapdragons, apparently.”

“Yes, the florist said they're often overlooked.”

“Oh. Well…I’m glad you bought them then. They won’t feel lonely here. I’ll make sure of it.”

He thinks he might say it then and there. 

I love you. 

But the sentence never seems to make it past his lips. 

VI.

Maybe it’s time to address it.

“Oh, fuck, Sylus…” 

A simple late night phone call, whispers of I miss you, and all of a sudden, you’re at his door, your eyes dark as you step inside, throwing off your coat and wrapping your arms around his neck before he can react. 

“Sylus… please…”

Sylus smirks as he sucks at the skin on your inner thigh, using enough pressure to leave a hickey that will last for at least three days, maybe a week. A reminder that he’s been there; been to a place reserved only for him. 

“Does it feel good, Kitten?” he asks, gently stroking the bruise, his scarlet eyes glowing as he looks at you with lust. 

“Yes…please don’t stop…” you trail off as his lips trail kisses down your thighs, your hands sliding to hold his hair between your fingers as he gets closer and closer to the spot where you need him the most.

“You’re so wet, Sweetie,” he breathes, voice low as he stares at your heat. “Such a good girl…tell me…do you want it?”

“Yes…please… fuck Sylus, I need you so bad,” you moan, using your hands to guide him between your thighs, his breath warm

Yeah, maybe now’s not a good time to address it. 

Sylus can sense your neediness, his cock straining against his trousers as his mouth finds your heat, moaning as you squeeze his head gently between your thighs, his tongue working inside you as you slowly begin to unravel. Your body begins to tremble because fuck, Sylus always makes you feel like heaven is a place on earth, tucked away here, on his four-poster bed, in between cool silk sheets. 

And Sylus, well, he’s seeing stars, eating you out as if you might disappear tomorrow. His hands spread your legs wider, trying to find the best angle to make you fall apart. He fucking loves seeing you like this, loves the way you both submit yourselves to each other. A newfound trust that means more to Sylus than any protocore in all of Deepspace.

He continues to fuck you with his mouth, the taste of you like honey on his tongue. 

“Sylus…I think…I’m…ugh …” you trail off again, biting your lip as a familiar feeling builds inside you. 

Sylus smirks, and you can feel it between your legs. You tug on his hair a little harder, urging him to just fuck you more, because, Christ, you’re so fucking close. He seems to get the message, and begins to fuck you faster with his tongue, using his hands to guide your hips so they’re rutting against his hot mouth. 

He’s so fucking hard, he thinks maybe he could come like this, with your hands in his hair and his head between your legs. He knows you’re close, can sense it in the way you’re moving, so he decides to help you a little, his fingers creeping up to your clit before they begin to massage the bundle of nerves slowly, making you cry out in pleasure. 

“Baby…gonna…gonna come soon,” you whine, the world spinning as your head falls against the mattress. 

A growl leaves his lips. “Then come for me, my darling.”

And that’s all it takes for you to fall apart, and Sylus, the angel he is, keeps going until you pull him out, whining at him, tugging at his shirt to bring him closer to you. 

“I need you in me, baby.” 

People think he’s a strong man, yet a single sentence from you can make him fold like a sheet of paper.

“Are you sure?” he asks, shutting his eyes and letting out a quiet sigh of pleasure as your hands find their way to the bulge straining against his trousers. 

“Of course.” 

Sylus flips you over, moving so his back can lie against the headboard. He uses his Evol to place you strategically on his lap as your fingers begin to undo his belt and zipper. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans, dizzy with pleasure as you wrap your hand around his aching length. Even with your two hands wrapped around him, his cock is huge. The thought of it inside of you is making you wet again. 

“Lie back,” you order, and Sylus obliges, his eyes glowing through the soft haze of his bedroom. 

He squeezes your ass as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock, a loud cry escaping your lips. Even after doing this a few times, you still get surprised at his size, but his length sliding into you always feels like a home run. Sylus thinks you were made to take him like this; your body moulded just for him. 

“You’re so tight,” Sylus moans, his forehead falling against your chest. He places a soft kiss to your cleavage before bucking his hips up a few times until suddenly he starts pounding into you, your moans drowning out the squeaks from the bed frame.  

Good thing he sent Luke and Kieran out on a few errands. Sylus doesn’t think they’d recover from the noises you two are making.

“Sylus, baby, faster, ” you beg, gripping his shoulders for support, your hips grinding on his cock. “Fuck, you always feel so good.”

“You too, my darling. You’re fucking made for me. Always feels like heaven being inside of you,” Sylus growls, his hips fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. 

Heavy breathing and the sweet scent of sex fills the room as you both rock your hips in harmony, pulling each other closer and closer to the edge. Sylus can feel his orgasm building in his stomach. He needs to feel you more. 

“S-Sylus…” you pant, your legs beginning to ache a bit. “More. Please. I need…I need more .”

Yeah, he thinks he does too. 

Without warning, he pulls out of you, switching positions and pushing you on to the mattress before thrusting back into you with full force. Your hands fly to your mouth as you cry out in pleasure. 

Sylus tuts, removing your hands, interlocking your fingers with his own above your head as he fucks you slow and hard.

“It’s okay. No one’s home. I want to hear your sweet little moans, Kitten,” he coos, leaning down and kissing your neck. 

You shut your eyes, letting your voice echo around the room. 

“I think I’m close, baby,” you breathe. 

Sylus nods into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to pick up speed again, the sound of skin slapping skin getting louder and louder. 

“I have you, darling,” he pants, looking into your eyes with sincerity. “So be a good girl and come for me again.”

“You too,” you whine, thrusting your hips up to meet him halfway. 

“Fuck …” Sylus grunts, his hips stuttering as the feeling in his stomach comes to a boil. 

He’s not sure which of you comes first, all he knows is that suddenly everything feels warm, and when it’s all over, the earth seems to stop spinning, and nothing matters but the two of you together like this.

Time slows down after that. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, a silence that remains as he cleans you, a soft towel wiping over your damp skin before he wraps you in one of his silk robes. He doesn’t bother asking you if you’re staying over tonight. It’s an unspoken agreement that has become a silent habit. 

More time passes. Somewhere in between the post-sex conversations and after-midnight kisses, you fall asleep in Sylus’ bed, the moonlight slicing through the gaps in the curtains, shining on your bare skin, making it look like you’re made of pure starlight. 

As you sleep, Sylus tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers gentle words into the night air.

“You are my sun and my stars. My fate is yours, for eternity. In my past life, in this life, and in every life to come after, I will be yours if you’ll allow it.”

Sylus wonders why vulnerability comes out easier under darkness than in daylight.

VII.

Glittering chandeliers and bubbly champagne. Jewel encrusted cutlery and a grandiose ice sculpture; yet all the riches in the world pale in comparison when placed next to you. 

Or at least, that’s what Sylus thinks, as he takes your hand, your high heels unsteady as you step out of the limousine he had prepared for the evening. It’s not often he accepts invitations to grand events such as Galas and Balls. His time is precious, and these events require a lot of false smiles and forced conversations. 

But as he looks at you – your shimmering ball gown twinkling in the moonlight, the pearl necklace glowing against the soft skin of your neck that he likes to trace when the world is asleep – he thinks it might be worth it this one time.

He leads you towards the entrance, admiring how the crowd parts for the two of you. The feeling of power; it’s addictive. Sylus has lived with it for so long that after a while, it made him a little jaded. But even the heaviest of snowfall melts over time, and as he watches your eyes sparkle as he leads you towards the ballroom, he regrets every second he wasted not searching for you. 

Not that he ever gave up, either. 

The ballroom is as extravagant as the ones described in a child’s fairytale. A roof with a Renaissance style fresco that stretches for miles, long tables with all the food from every corner of the world. Champagne fountains, decadent cakes, and you – having drifted away from his side to admire the scene – standing in the middle of it all. A single snowdrop. His flower.

“Good evening Mister Sylus.” Sylus nods at a couple as they greet him. Friends of Onychinus that would probably stab him in the back if he hadn't of invited them to this event. 

“Good evening,” Sylus replies, still not taking his eyes off you. 

“It’s not often that you grace us with your presence at these events,” the woman says, eyeing him with a look that could turn even the sweetest fruit sour.

“I have to keep an eye on things after the explosion incidents in Linkon.” 

“Ah, I see. Terrible how our own can turn on us just like that.” 

Sylus doesn’t even bother reacting, the conversation already boring him. 

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere I need to be,” Sylus says, excusing himself and making his way over to you. He stifles a laugh as he spots you helping yourself to the cakes and pastries on the table.

“Hungry, Kitten?”

You turn around and pout at him, your mouth full of cake. Sylus tuts as he wipes away the frosting on your lips. 

“I’m starving,” you groan through a mouthful of cake, to which Sylus laughs. He licks his finger, tasting the frosting he wiped off your lips. It’s a bit sweet for his palette, but if it’s something you enjoy, then he’d eat ten slices of cake just to see your smile. 

“Have you been enjoying yourself?” He reaches out to adjust the ruby crow brooch on your dress. “Collected enough intel to bring back to the Hunters Academy?”

“I’m not here on business,” you huff. 

Sylus lightly flicks your forehead. “But an intelligent Hunter like you never takes a day off.”

He smiles down at you, just as the orchestra begins to play a bright piece of music, making people flood to the floor for a dance.

“May I?” Sylus holds out his hand. 

“Are you asking me to dance?”

“It would be a shame to have all our practice go to waste,” Sylus says, his mind thinking back to a couple of nights ago. 

"One two three, one two three…”

Sylus tries to suppress his laughter as he watches you stumble around, trying to keep your pace in time with the waltz crackling through his vintage gramophone. He tries to guide you carefully in the right direction, one hand on your waist as he elegantly glides across the marble floor, but this only makes you step on his toes again. 

“Are you even trying, kitten?”

“It’s a lot harder than it looks!” you argue, trying your best to avoid stepping on his toes again. “And I’m not used to wearing heels.”

Sylus sighs and stops dancing, causing you to collide into his chest, but he anticipates this and catches you in his arms.

"How about we change tactics?” he asks. He lifts you gently so that you end up standing with your feet on top of his.

“Watch and learn.” 

Sylus uses his Evol to place your hands on his shoulders as his hands find their way onto your hips. He sways you both gently, his eyes focused on you, his heartbeat steady as he sways to the waltz. He picks you up and spins you around, causing you to squeal as you rise high into the air like a dove before he pulls you back into his arms. 

The memory warms him as he thinks about it. Fills his chest with butterflies as he watches you dance once more, except this time, your eyebrows are furrowed in full concentration. You’re trying for him, and he adores you for it. 

As the waltz continues, Sylus finds himself  becoming lost in the music, the room fading away until all he can see is you. Your eyes on his, his eyes on yours. You spin and step together in harmony; two souls in matrimony. 

“Kitten,” Sylus says, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “In case I forget to tell you later…” he trails off as he gently presses a kiss to your neck. 

“Not even the brightest stars could take away from your beauty tonight.”

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Later on, Sylus takes you out to the garden for some fresh air. Under the stars, your flushed cheeks from the heat of the ballroom glow like cherry wine. You find a private spot in the maze made of hedges and take a seat on a small bench surrounded by roses. 

Sylus kisses the crown of your head as you lay on his shoulder, a comfortable silence surrounding you both. Your skin is still flushed by the alcohol. Sylus suspects you’re a little tipsy from all the champagne. 

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” 

Sylus shifts his gaze to your pouting face. 

“Should I tell Luke and Kieran to get the guest room ready?”

You pinch his side with your fingers. “I think there’s enough room in your custom made, luxury bed for one more person. Plus, you and I both know I’ve only slept in the guest room once.”

Sylus smiles down at you. 

“And if I don’t want to share my bed tonight?”

You yawn, shutting your eyes and nuzzling your face into his jacket.

“You can sleep on the floor then.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.”

“I know.”

“You know.”

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

On the drive home, you end up falling asleep. Not wanting to wake you up, Sylus carries you to his room and tucks you in, gently removing your makeup with the cleanser he keeps on standby when you visit. 

Although he tries his best to make sure you stay asleep, you stir a little at his touch, mumbling something as he wipes away the last of your mascara. 

“WhereamI?” you croak, eyes flickering as you try to sit up. But Sylus shushes you, gently pushing you back onto the mattress, and assures you that everything is fine. That you just fell asleep on the way home. 

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, you shut your eyes and pull Sylus down with you, burying your face into his chest as he falls into bed next to you. 

“Promise me you’ll stay until I fall asleep,” you whisper into his ear. It sends shivers down his spine. A promise is a heavy burden for a dragon. Not that he is one anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about the past, forgotten about what it actually means if he breaks one.

What if one day he makes you another one he can’t keep? 

“Sylus?” A hand reaches out through the dim light and pokes his face. “Are you still here?”

Fuck it. He’s already this deep anyway. Running would be futile at this stage. Maybe it’s time to stop being afraid. He catches your hand in his and presses your fingertips to his lips.

“I’m still here,” he whispers. “And I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile, your eyes still closed. “Goodnight Sylus.”

“Goodnight.”

True to his word, he stays until you fall asleep. In fact, he lays beside you until the sun rises.

And when you wake up and find him asleep next to you, the sunlight creeping in through the curtains making him frown in slumber, you pull the duvet over both of your heads, a smile spreading across your lips as you curl into his chest. 

Sundays are for sleeping in anyways. 

VIII.

As Summer draws to a close, Sylus finally finds a day to take you hiking to a place outside of Linkon where no one will recognise him. He picks you up late in the afternoon, the plan being to reach the summit by sunset. 

Even though he’s become accustomed to cold nights, Sylus has grown to enjoy the feeling of the warm Summer wind in his air, one hand on the steering wheel, the other shifting the gear stick as you sing along to the radio, him occasionally joining in, which only causes you to burst into a fit of laughter every time. 

It’s not often he’s awake during the day, but recently he’s begun to embrace the light. Maybe because it highlights your beauty in all its glory. Loving you has changed a lot of things for Sylus, has made him feel stronger, yet more vulnerable at the same time. 

And he’s been watching you grow too, like a flower that blooms in adversity, slowly, but surely. Through all the pain in your heart, you still have managed to flourish, and it makes him proud, seeing how strong you’ve become since he found you again in this lifetime. 

“Sylus, up ahead, look!” You point excitedly to the mountain in the near distance. Sylus hums as he steps on the gas pedal, not wanting to waste another second in his thoughts.

The sun is already beginning to dip into the horizon as Sylus pulls into the parking lot. He grabs your bags from the trunk as you tie your shoe laces and check your Hunter’s watch, scanning through the exact route that you both had planned together. 

“If we leave now, we should make it to the top by sunset,” you say, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you examine the route. 

Sylus takes your hand in his. “Lead the way, Miss Hunter.”

𓅇 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

By the time the two of you reach the summit, most of the crowds from the afternoon have dispersed, leaving behind a tranquil atmosphere. The air is a little crisp, the early signs of Autumn creeping into the dregs of Summer. Sylus notices you shivering slightly as you both look out at the view. Without a word, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. You give him a grateful look. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, breaking the silence, eyes gazing at the sweeping landscape below. 

“You weren’t kidding about the view. It’s breathtaking. I feel like I can touch the sky.” You reach out into the air, basking in the last rays of light of the day, smiling at Sylus with all the warmth of the sun.

“You’re right,” Sylus says softly, watching how the light casts a golden glow on your skin, as if you’re an angel and all he can do is pray to heaven they’ll let him keep you on earth. 

“It’s beautiful.”

In this exact moment, Sylus knows the time has come. He has to tell you.  

He clears his throat. “Sweetie, I–”

“S’mores for sale! Get your s’mores here!”

Sylus curses as a stall owner starts causing a ruckus a few metres away. 

“Oh my god, I haven’t had s’mores since I was a kid!” you squeal with excitement. Sylus can feel his eye twitch slightly as you grab his hand and pull him in the direction of the food stall, a steady queue already beginning to form. 

“What even is a s’more?” he grumbles, still feeling a little disgruntled that his big speech was rudely interrupted. 

“Wait, you’ve never had a s’more before? I thought you went camping all the time.”

“And what has camping got to do with these so-called s’mores?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. “S’mores are like…the best campfire treat ever! Warm chocolate and toasted marshmallows all squished between two graham crackers.” You mime squashing the s’more between the palms of your hands. 

“And voilà! The best snack you’ll ever have in your life, all put together in less than a minute.”

“Sounds like a one way trip to diabetes.”

“You’re such an old man sometimes.”

“I suppose I am ninety years old. If you believe the rumours that is.”

You both continue to bicker back and forth until you finally get to the top of the queue. Sylus doesn’t even get a chance to argue before you order two s’mores, slapping a handful of coins onto the counter. 

The smell of sugar fills the air as he allows you to drag him to a secluded spot on the summit with a bench overlooking Linkon. By now, the city’s lights are slowly beginning to flicker on as the sun continues to lower itself deeper and deeper into the horizon. 

A fond smile ghosts his lips as he notices that you're halfway through your s’more, chocolate smeared on the corner of your mouth. 

“This is the best day ever,” you say dreamily, your eyes shining as you once again admire the view. Finishing the last of your s’more, you lean against Sylus’ shoulder, sighing with satisfaction as you pat your stomach dramatically. 

Afraid the chocolate will melt and stain his hands, Sylus begins to eat his own s’more, his nose scrunching at the taste.

“As expected, this is nothing but pure sugar.”

“Aw c’mon, it’s delicious,” you huff, taking the s’more from his hands and waving it in his face.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his eyebrow raised with suspicion. 

“Say aaaah!” You shove the s’more into his mouth, forcing him to take another bite. He coughs as the sickeningly sweet taste of the s'more fills his mouth again, but he finishes it anyway.

Not before he jabs you in the ribs for fun, of course. 

“Okay, okay! I surrender. It tickles too much!” you wheeze as he continues to jab you with his fingertips.

Satisfied, Sylus leans in and wipes the chocolate from your face with his thumb. 

“Are all kittens this messy?” he teases, and before you can complain, he presses his lips briefly against yours, smirking as he pulls away.

Cheeks flushing, you have no idea how to react to that, so instead you bury your face in Sylus’ sweater, trying to hide your blush from him. 

You sit in a comfortable silence after that, Sylus holding you close as you both take in the sunset together. He can feel your heartbeat, can feel the steady rhythm that brought him to you through Deepspace. He thinks if he had to go through all those years of loneliness again just to hold you like this for even a second, well, he’d do it all over again with zero hesitations.

And just like that, like a puzzle sliding into place, like a shooting star finding its way home, the universe whispers for him to bring the crescendo of his unspoken symphony to its climax. 

“I love you.”

Those three words; they’ll never be enough.

But for now, they’ll do. 

“I love you,” he repeats, just as the sun sinks into the horizon and the moon becomes visible. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Kitten. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“Oh, Sylus, my beautiful, beautiful Sylus.”

Warm hands reach out as you turn to cup his face, tears glistening in your eyes as you laugh with disbelief. 

“I know. I know you love me, even though you’ve never said it to me before. Your actions, they’re enough. You, right next to me…it will always be enough.” 

He stares at you with nothing but pure reverence in his eyes. 

“And for the record, I love you too.”

At your confession, Sylus wraps his arms around your waist as you continue to hold his face firmly in your palms. Under the twilight, you both stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, the darkness in Sylus’ heart finally fading away into something warm, something golden. Something that can only be described as love.

And as you kiss under the magenta sky, Sylus knows that no matter where fate tries to hide you, he’ll always find you.

Because home is wherever you are.

[muqingapologist]

probably overthinking this subject but is it weird that i kind of don’t like most mxtx extras and tend to disregard them from what i imagine as the canon characters in my head and that i wish more fics did the same?

for example, i would love to see more post-canon scum villain fics that reimagined shen qingqiu’s journey of becoming more comfortable with his sexuality and with binghe all the way to their wedding starting right from the end of the main story. while the scum villain extras do have very nice moments (i do love the bingmei vs bingge conflict, sqq watching lbh’s memories in the dreamscape, the moments in between, etc), the extras just don’t feel fully satisfying and instead just seem like mxtx if providing the fan service that she left out of the main story. as is her right of course!

but i feel this lacking most significantly in the mdzs extras. so many missed opportunities for her to have rounded out the world and side characters, explored another layer of emotional depth with the main couple, whatever else, and we just got….incense burner and some other, much less memorable, stuff. not to mention that, while i’ve come to accept that wangxian in the book is incredibly different from their dynamic in the censored cdrama, the extras just kind of reinforce almost solely the physicality of their relationship and none of their actual day-to-day interactions as a couple or the emotional hurdles they still inevitably must cross together.

tgcf’s extras are the least offensive to me but they are also not super interesting to me. though hualian in general is probably the least interesting to me postcanon anyway since, more than wangxian and bingqiu, they seem quite in tune emotionally by the end of tgcf and so less opportunity for tension in that regard. but also the extras here being included in my perception of them doesn’t really negate the way i prefer their relationship to progress postcanon, unlike the other two couples.

anyway, this might make sense to no one at all and if so, ignore me. and if you love the extras for any or all of these, so happy for you and a little jealous! i guess my main point is that, while obviously they’re extras and just not meant to be integral to the overall story, i think that mxtx’s determination to just write what is effectively shitposting for her characters as extras is kind of frustrating to include in canon when in my mind, these couples are just entering these lifelong relationships, and there are still many things to unpack and learn about each other, and the extras just don’t align with how i think those relationships would go based on the main story, and so i wish more postcanon fan content pretended they didn’t exist lol…does anyone have similar feelings or am i just thinking too deeply about this…?

[nuzipilled]

full company doodles i gave up on

[redrosydiaz]

really fucking sick and tired of people who really fucking love the eddie book jumping on people who don't like or are even remotely critical of it's posts and like crusading their opinions around from the top of their high horses and shoving it down our throats.

if you like the book, great! that's awesome! love that for you! i am genuinely glad that you were able to find good in it and enjoy it!!

but not everyone did, and not everyone is going to agree with you. so, instead of going on some grand crusade where you find every single post that includes anything even remotely negative or negative adjacent or even neutrally critical and spending ALL this time and effort trying to provide unwanted rebuttals to every single thing, maybe you should just stay in your lane and find people who DO like the book and chat about it with them.

because i can PROMISE YOU, none of us appreciate it when you come onto our posts and start accusing us of "hating on" the author or "being rude" about her and her work and RIDICULOUS shit like that.

being critical of something and pointing out it's flaws is NOT inherently hating on it. i, frankly, do not know where people got that notion, but it's not fucking true so can we fucking quit assuming it is? and, critiquing something is also NOT the same as saying this is shit and it sucks and the author is a piece of garbage. again, where the fuck that came from is beyond me. you can be critical of something and still enjoy it. as soooo many of you love to point out, it's not perfect, why should it be perfect? so D U H. of course that means criticism can and should arise???

also. hot take (by which i mean ice fucking cold because it's NOT a fucking hot take), but going around toting FALSE facts as part of your "defense" does not make you or your argument look good. you, like the author, should maybe do a basic fact check first. 🙃

tldr, if you like the book, that's genuinely great, but stay in your fucking lane and stop seeking out posts from people who didn't like it to start shit in the notes.

[unma]

Okay. Quick vaguepost before I catch up on shit I was supposed to do a couple hours ago.

Just saw a post grace my dash about a proshipper who is apparently disgusting and beyond recourse and the only evidence I saw was screenshots of beyond harmless shit. Just them posting about what they wanted to ship. I'm sorry, what?

How are we so far gone that that is enough to kick a storm up over? I already don't like antis for a variety of reasons, but what the hell? Leave this person alone. The block button exists for a reason, and until they do anything that could actually result in tangible harm, you will forever look really goddamn stupid. I hope you learn and change, but whatever. I might as well follow my own advice and block.

Uh, excuse the rant. I have strong opinions on the fact that people have strong opinions over what other people can ship. It's fiction, for Christ's sake! Stop being such assholes about it.

[luke-shywalker]

Concept: Reylo, but Rey was mentored by Luke her entire life, but it’s like The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride (1992) where they have to repeatedly reinforce that Rey isn’t really Luke’s daughter, so she isn’t really Ben’s cousin, so it’s not really incest

[quatregats]

Reading through the TV Tropes page on Hornblower after going off on my own weird Hornblower ramblings truly like touching grass in the best and worst ways possible

[freedom-in-the-dark]

ok. exposing myself as someone who unfortunately cares about an unimportant tumblr fandom poll right now.

hello beloved black sails fandom and especially those who participated in The Pirate Poll War.

I’m SO sorry to pollute this sacred space with mention of this, but…

have you been Online enough in the past decade to be aware of fandom history as a general concept?

are you aware of the infamous marvel ship steve/bucky?

would you agree that steve/bucky has been more impactful in fandom history than The Other Gay Pirate Show which came out [checks notes] last year?

if so:

would you be willing to click a button.

[kwoniele]

from behind - csc

synopsis: your innocent picnic date with seungcheol escalated fast, but you can’t find yourself complaining about it.

genre: smut. porn w some plot lol

warnings: jealous scoups (we cheered!), clueless mingyu who ruined their date lol, hard!dom scoups, pillow princess!reader, angry cheol but not really?, overstimulation, edging, doggy, mention of mingyu during sex, dacryphilia but theres no extreme crying happening, oral (f receiving), fingering, hands are tied, unprotected sex, birth control but it’s not mentioned, that’s all i think… not proofread! i hate reading my work 😊

this was not how you expected the date to go.

in your mind, you imagined a quiet park with the breeze flowing through your hair as you and seungcheol were chilling on a plaid blanket on the grass. you prepared chocolate covered strawberries, a cake to celebrate your anniversary, iced tea to quench your thirst, and snacks to munch on as the two of you talk.

but goodness, were you wrong.

mingyu was walking his dog when he saw you and seungcheol and figured it’d be nice to greet the both of you. except, he didn’t stop talking. he kept telling stories about his recent fashion show he attended in paris—clearly oblivious to the fact you and seungcheol were on a date.

it only got worse when mingyu started to tell a tale of how you and him were absolute best friends in highschool. his hands mindlessly caressed your back and his smile (which he deemed was a friendly one) was a little too wide for seungcheol’s liking.

“it was so much fun! remember sports day? ms. kang really enjoyed the marathon.” mingyu laughed, not paying attention to how seungcheol’s jaw clenched, how the veins on his forearms were bulging, and how his neck and ears looked as if he painted them red.

“yeah! i- of course i remember!” you lightly chuckled, glancing at seungcheol who was clearly uncomfortable. he’d already eaten the entire container of strawberries, chugged down two water bottles, and even dared to open up the chips you bought.

“ah, fuck. sorry y/n. i have to go, shua hyung needs me at the shop.” mingyu abruptly stood up, putting bobpul’s leash back on her collar and waved goodbye to you and seungcheol.

the silence after mingyu left was deafening. suddenly the children playing at the playground were louder, the bushes swaying were rustling a little faster, and you can hear your pulse thumping.

“i’m sorry. about, y’know.” you scooted closer to cheol, resting your chin on your palm as you tried to meet his gaze. “ah~, what can i do to make it up to you?” two of your fingers nudged his chin to force him to look at you.

“make it up to me? you really want to make it up to me?”

“yeah! i’ll do anything. you can even be mad at me. actually, you should be mad at me! i’m sorry, hm?”

“fine. okay. i’ll be mad at you, but, you still have to do whatever i say. got that?”

and that’s how you ended up on the satin bed sheets, thighs spread apart as your hands were tied up with a random tie from his suits. you couldn’t touch him, pull his hair, scratch his back, you couldn’t do anything.

“fuck- cheol..” your back arched from the bed, bucking your hips into his mouth as his tongue rapidly inserted in and out your pussy. his thumb was circling your clit mercilessly, pushing you closer to the edge until he decided to halt all his movements.

“you think i’m going to let you cum just like that?,” seungcheol sucked on your neck roughly, putting pressure on the hickeys he already made prior. “want to cum so bad huh? what if i get that mingyu to do it for you? hm?”

“no.. not mingyu.” you breathed heavily as his chuckle tickled your neck.

“seemed like you were just as happy to have him right there earlier. am i wrong?” his middle finger slipped into your hole again, earning a hitched breath escape from your throat as he felt your walls twitch around his finger.

“i’m sorry, ch-cheol. haa~ please.. please fuck me.” your desperate tears pricked your eyes, making seungcheol smirk as he notices your glassy eyes.

“do you deserve it?”

“yes! yes yes yes! please, cheol.”

his gaze on you felt like he was staring at you for ten years. he slipped his finger out of your pussy and reached for your hands—slowly untying them from the bed frame. you immediately rubbed your wrists, easing the pain his tie caused.

“on fours, baby.” he unbuckled his belt and threw his pants across the room as you obeyed his words—putting your ass on display as you patiently wait for him to give you your next instructions.

you could feel the mattress dip as seungcheol positioned himself behind you, gripping your waist with one hand as the other teases your cunt with his tip. you knew he was grinning when you let out a whine once he got his head inside.

as soon as his entire cock was inside your hole, he rested there for a few seconds before slowly sliding into your cunt. “hngh~ faster.. please.” he didn’t say anything. instead, he gripped your waist tighter and thrusted into you aggressively without warning.

your hand reached for the pillow in front of you to grip onto as seungcheol fucked you as fast as he could from behind. your hips began to match his rhythm as you met his thrusts, causing seungcheol to groan inside you.

your walls began to twitch around him which told seungcheol your high was nearing. you thought he was going to slowly ease his thrusts, but god where you wrong. if it was even possible, he began to fuck you even harder than before. his tip kissed that spot multiple times which pushed you further to the edge.

“fuck, cheol, i’m close.” you warned.

“cheol— hngh! cheol i’m gonna cum!” you warned again.

“i’m cumming!” no answer.

he didn’t stop. why wasn’t he stopping? “i’m not going to stop fucking your pretty pussy until i cum, okay? we’re going to make sure everyone here knows my name.”

and he meant it. he didn’t stop at all. whenever a second passed, he only got rougher. faster. you already came multiple times at this point—but he wasn’t stopping.

seungcheol’s groans began to get louder, and louder. he chanted your name as if it was a mantra, and his grip on your waist tightened. he was near.

“baby. inside or no?” he urgently asked, confirming with you what you wanted before he came to his release.

“inside! please- please!”

you felt ribbons shoot inside you as his cum painted your pussy white. all his movements stopped. he pulled out of you to watch his cum ooze out of your cunt, smiling and taking his phone from the bed side table to document his artwork.

you plopped down on the bed, hair sticking to your forehead and chest heaving. “you should get jealous more often, huh?” you joked, pulling him by his neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

“piss me off one more time, i’ll do even worse than today.”

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʏ ꜱ ᴍ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Maegor I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: You were always his. From the moment you were born. And it's going to stay that way, whatever you like it or not.

Warning: Targcest, Graphic depictions of violence, Non con, Maegor himself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to dalberadiata. Hope you enjoy!

Maegor kicked a rock with all the strength his young body could muster, the jagged stone skittering across the ground and disappearing into the brush. His chest heaved with frustration, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face contorted in a mask of anger.

But no matter how much he trained, no matter how hard he fought, his father’s gaze always passed over him. Like he wasn’t even there.

His foot slammed into another rock, as he ground his teeth in fury. He wanted to be king. He would be king. One day, they would all see—his father, his brother—all of them would see.

“Boo!”

A voice, sweet and sudden, pulled him from his thoughts. His body stiffened as he turned, already prepared to strike, but it was only her. His sister, always sneaking up on him, always playing her games. She popped out from behind a tree, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a playful grin on her lips.

“Did I scare you, Maegor?” she teased, laughing softly as she plopped herself down beside him on the grass without waiting for a response.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t smile. Of course, he wasn’t scared. His hands flexed at his sides, still shaking with the remnants of his anger. He wasn’t in the mood for her games. Not today.

But she didn’t seem to notice. She never did. Instead, she sat beside him, her fingers absentmindedly plucking at the flowers that dotted the ground. She hummed softly, her hands busy weaving stems together as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I’ll be king one day,” he muttered, his voice low, angry. His fists tightened as he stared ahead, his vision still blurry with unshed tears. “You’ll see. I’ll be a great king. Someone important. Stronger than father. Stronger than anyone.”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t listening. She never really listened when he talked about his plans. She was too busy with her flowers, too lost in her own world of pretty things and laughter. He frowned, watching as she twisted the stems in her delicate hands, her smile never faltering.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, his frustration bubbling up again.

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, as if his anger didn’t bother her at all. Her smile only grew, and she held up the thing she had been working on. “Done!” she announced, her voice soft and sweet, like the sound of a gentle breeze. She leaned over and placed it on his head—a crown of flowers, woven with care, resting lopsided on his dark hair.

Maegor blinked, confused, his anger momentarily forgotten. He reached up to touch the crown, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand what she had done.

“What is this?”

She smiled at him, that same sweet, soft smile that always made something in his chest ache. “Even if you don’t become king, you’re still my king, Maegor.” Her voice was full of warmth, full of love. “Always.”

He stared at her, the confusion in his eyes deepening. She was always like this—so full of life, so bright. Too bright for someone like him. Too soft for a world as harsh as theirs. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond.

But now, when he looked at her, the only thing that remained was death.

Her body was cold in his arms, a shell of the girl she used to be. Her eyes, once full of light, now stared blankly ahead, her mouth silent as always. But that was alright. She didn’t need to speak. She didn’t need to smile.

He still loved her.

Even like this.

She was dressed in beautiful silk, her hair brushed and perfect, her lips still stained with the remnants of the last kiss he’d given her earlier. She looked like a doll. Fragile. Beautiful. Untouched. He dragged his hand down her neck, savoring the coldness of her skin, feeling the shiver of pleasure that ran through him.

But the silk? That was a pity. He was going to rip that apart anyway.

He pulled her into his lap, her body limp and pliant, her head lolling to the side as he pressed his lips to her neck. He bit down, hard, savoring the taste of her skin, his teeth sinking in deep enough to draw blood. His hand slid between her legs, fingers pushing against her cunt, trying to get her wet. She didn’t move, didn’t react, but he didn’t care. She would be ready for him. She had to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into her skin, his voice dark and rough as he kissed along her neck, his bites growing harder, more savage. “You’ll give me a son. A true son. Something none of those useless cunts could do.” His fingers moved faster, harder, forcing her body to respond. “We’ll name him Aegon. After father. What do you think?”

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her face. Her tears were falling now, silent as always, sliding down her cheeks like the rain.

Oh, right. He had cut her tongue out.

He laughed then, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the room. How could he have forgotten? She had screamed, hadn’t she? Begged him to stop, to leave her alone. She didn’t want to be his wife. She didn’t want him. But that hadn’t mattered. Not to him. He had made sure she couldn’t refuse him ever again.

He wiped her tears with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth as he did. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice soft, mocking. “I love you still. I like you more like this.”

Then he kissed her, hard and rough, his mouth devouring hers as his hand gripped her neck, holding her in place. She didn’t kiss back, didn’t move, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need her to.

He shoved himself inside her, his thrusts brutal, each one harder than the last. Her body didn’t fight him, didn’t resist. She took him in silence, her tears falling faster now, her eyes empty as they stared at the ceiling. But Maegor didn’t stop. He pounded into her, growling with each thrust, determined to make her his in every possible way.

“You're mine,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked her harder. “Always have been and always will be.”

She didn’t respond. She never did. But that was fine.

When he was done, when her body was limp and unconscious beneath him, he pulled out, only to push his seed back inside her, forcing it deeper, making sure she would carry it.

“You’ll be a mother,” he whispered, his hand pressing against her stomach, possessive. “The mother of my child.”

His.

Always his.

[tbaluver]

The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons + Scenarios/ Imagines Pt. 2

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: myself bc i craved writing something sweet genre: perhaps tooth rotting fluff fluff warnings: none unless you want cavities a/n: every day i wish they were real and every day i have a lads brain rot and i would gatekeep these ideas but i would never so here ya go ! lmk if i should write more of these ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა enjoy reading ! first part is here if you haven't read it! Pt.1 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

The type of boyfriend who will finish your food whenever you can't finish it. He'll let you eat his food even when you say you're not hungry or you don't want anything. If the food he gets isn't something you would want, he'll make sure to buy something for you even if you say you don't want it.

You can expect his hand to always sneak into your lap when you lay in bed together after a long day. Gently embracing your lower stomach and whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you both fall asleep.

If you can't sleep, he'll try to join you for midnight snacks and watch whatever's on TV. He's trying his best to stay awake but you can already see him dozing off, clutching the stuffed plushie you won at the arcade.

Scenario:

You two sat on the soft grass, surrounded by a blanket of stars that painted the dark canvas of the night sky, eagerly waiting for the shooting stars to streak by.

"Xavier do you have anything in mind for what you're going to wish for?"

He turns to you, his gaze softening and a gentle smile spreads across his face. "I don't need to wish for anything else if my wish has already come true- I'm looking right at her."

Zayne:

He keeps all the little trinkets you've given him by his nightstand at home and his desk at work. That way when he wakes up you're the first thing on his mind, not that you left his mind in the first place. Each time he glances at them, he's flooded with happy memories and filled with anticipation to return to your embrace.

The type of boyfriend who puts a blanket over you if you fall asleep on the couch and eventually carries you to your shared bed.

Puts a ridiculous amount of sugar in his coffee that kind of leaves you concerned for your lover's sweet tooth.

Scenario 1:

You two lay in bed together, enjoying the lazy morning, not wanting to get up as if doing so would mean the day truly had to begin. You trace the outlines of his bare chest, your fingers dancing over the area where his heart beats.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously as he watches you glide your fingers gently around his chest.

“Finding your heart and seeing who lives there,”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, a smile curling on his lips. “No one is there right now.”

You frown at his response, a playful pout forming on your lips. He cups your cheek, finding your reaction to be amusing and adorable. “That’s because the owner of my heart is currently right in front of me.”

Scenario 2:

As Zayne rushes to get ready for an emergency call from the hospital, his glasses are perched on top of your head.

“Zayne, aren’t you forgetting something?” you hinted, leaning in for a goodbye kiss.

“Ah yes, thank you.” He retrieves his glasses and you mock a pout. But he leans down, brushing your lips with his with a sweet kiss, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I love you. Please don’t stay up waiting for me again.”

Rafayel:

Sometimes he can be your boyfriend but sometimes he's also like your child from how much you baby him

He needs to be close to you at all times. The type of boyfriend who is all over you all the time. He needs to be close and touching you at all times. If you got hot from cuddling, he'll have either his hands or legs over your body because if you were apart for more than a second he thinks he might explode.

The boyfriend who stays up making something special for days and stays up overnight just to make it perfect just for you.

The type of boyfriend who adjusts your do not disturb on your phone so only his notification pops up whenever you're on do not disturb.

Imagine swimming in the ocean, you're enveloped in his embrace as you both gaze at the moonlight and stars above. He holds you close, resting his chin gently on the top of your head while you nestle your hand and head against his chest. It’s perfect like this. Just two of you near his homeland, the sea. Just him and you in your own world where you both find peace with the gentle sounds of the waves surrounding you both.

Sylus:

At the beginning of your relationship he redecorates his entire home so that you'll like it more and feel more inclined to stay over and stay the night at his place.

He only has a soft spot for you and only you. You see a side of him no one else does and not just that but his super silly side.

Sometimes he'll lift you onto the counter or lift you up to get what you need on a high shelf just because he wants to hold you.

The type of boyfriend who gets on his knees or sits down to be on the same level as you when you don't want to look up at him anymore. If he was sitting, he's definitely pulling you to his lap because you're not going to be the only one standing!

The type to hold all of your shopping bags and pure for you when you’re out shopping together. He does not complain about holding your purse at all, not that it would ever bother him in the first place. Also does not complain about holding all of your shopping bags, it’s literally light work for him and he would encourage you to buy more things of whatever you wanted.

Imagine after a long night at an auction, you two stumble back into your shared home not breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on Sylus’s neck, slowly sliding down as he murmurs sweet phrases against your lips. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he carries you bridal style, guiding you both toward your shared bedroom.

[ms-demeanor]

Hello,Do you have any tips for recovering from internet brain rot? It's like my patience has dried up and if there's a huge amount of text (even about topics I'm very interested in) that I have to read, I get annoyed and just don't interact with the material at all.

I have multiple tips!

TL;DR (Because of course I generated a wall of text): Take a break from the internet, create a schedule for getting yourself used to reading longer texts, take breaks while reading, and perhaps reconsider how you interact with The Internet and the world in general.

Here are the basic "to reduce the brain rot just don't interact" tips:

Take a break. Give yourself time off from The Internet (for these purposes The Internet is the social media industrial complex; clickbait news, recommended videos, social media sites, etc. You don't have to totally check out of email or your local news site, just get away from the huge time sucks). I'd say to take at least one day a week where you're online for less than an hour a day, and to maybe work up to doing a week-long break from whatever the main agents of rot are.

Once you've identified the main agents of rot, give yourself a time limit or set up rules for yourself. I don't let myself look at social media in bed, for instance; no staying up late on my phone, no scrolling before I get up and start my day. I don't give myself a strict time limit anymore, but for a while there I was very firm about "you only get to go online 4 hours a day" with myself.

Don't comment (or at least only share the things you really want to share). If you feel the need to argue, or if you feel pressured into sharing something, don't. Step back, maybe even open the post in a new tab or send it to yourself, and come back later. If you've been thinking about it and have decided it IS something you care enough to talk about, share it. If you look at the tab and feel stressed out or still feel reactive, close the tab and walk away.

Go out and interact with the real world in a non-work capacity for a few hours a week; take walks or go shopping or go out and take pictures of insects. Touch grass so that The Internet is not the only thing you're doing with your downtime.

Here are the "work on reading longer texts specifically" tips:

Set a reading goal for yourself. Maybe you want to read one New Yorker article a week, maybe you want to read all the way through news articles, maybe you want to read novels like you used to in high school. Figure out what your actual goal is and articulate that goal to yourself.

Set up a practice schedule and gradually increase the amount of time you're reading. Don't go from short tumblr posts to a novella, go from short tumblr posts to slightly longer news articles, then to slightly longer essays, then to a novella. You can do this in literal paragraphs if you want to - maybe your goal for your first day is to read five paragraphs in a row, and the second day is seven, and the third day is ten, etc, until you are comfortably reading for longer amounts of time without counting paragraphs. (Try this with books from gutenberg.org; read a classic you haven't read a few paragraphs at a time and if you find yourself going over your paragraph count, let yourself run with it. If you finish a book, good for you, find another one and start again.)

Set up a maintenance schedule. If your goal is to read longer news pieces, try to read a longer piece every week and try to read to the end of every news article you open. If your goal is to read novels or longer nonfiction, try to read a book a month (maybe setting aside dedicated time each week to read, maybe Thursday evenings are book time now). If you find yourself falling back into old habits, take a break from The Internet and do some more rigorous practice for a while.

If you find yourself getting frustrated while you are reading you can also take a break! Read until you get frustrated and then *instead of switching to a different page or closing the article* close your eyes or look out the window or away from the screen for thirty seconds (count 'em! count out the time in your head) and then continue reading. You can also take a longer pause and sit and think about why you're getting frustrated. Is it the subject matter? Is it just looking at this text for longer than a couple minutes (if you are experiencing FOMO because you're reading for another few minutes instead of scrolling, the harder tips at the bottom are going to be important to you)? Are you comfortable? Are you reading this text to procrastinate from something and the procrastination is making you nervous? Are you trying to read to the bottom of your dash and reading a long post is taking up more time than you want while scrolling? Are you bored? Genuinely and very seriously: are your eyes straining and does your head hurt (if this is the case when is the last time you had your eyes checked or your glasses prescription updated)?

Here are the much harder "examine yourself and reassess your reactions to things" tips:

Work on re-training your attention span.

Identify something that you enjoy and find deeply engaging, and schedule some dedicated time for that thing. Set a literal timer (it can be a short amount of time at first) and sit down and do the thing without switching to a different website or opening up an app on your phone. This can be re-reading or watching a couple episodes of a show you like or listening to your favorite album while you sit down and draw. What's important is to spend a longer time focusing on doing something you DO like before attempting to spend a longer time focusing on something you DON'T like.

When you're starting on things you DON'T like, start with things you mildly don't like, or that feel tedious but aren't actually unpleasant. One way I do this is by transcribing poetry; I look up poems that I connect to and I transcribe them into a notebook that I have for that purpose. I enjoy having the finished product, but I don't enjoy the process, so it takes some effort to stick with it. Maybe there is a boring book you have been trying to get through, maybe you need to detail your car, maybe you've been trying to take up embroidery - these are good things to make yourself pay attention to (having music or a podcast on can help, but avoid watching videos or opening social apps)

When you're okay at that kind of thing (doing something not actively unpleasant) work on your attention span for things you ACTIVELY don't like. I don't think you should be a masochist about this, but you should work on being okay with doing unpleasant things for a sustained period of time. All of us have to do unpleasant stuff sometimes, and it's better to be able to pay attention to it for an hour at a time than it is to put it off forever.

This leads into the next Big Tip which is:

Work on being less reactive

Find something that you dislike; I'm going to use conservative talk radio as my example.

Expose yourself to the disliked thing for short periods of time (under ten minutes, maybe under five minutes).

Work on moderating your emotions during the time spent exposed to the disliked thing. If it makes you angry, work on intellectualizing the anger without becoming agitated by it. If it makes you sad, work on accepting that sadness without letting it drag down your mood. This isn't precisely about becoming numb to stimuli, but it is about being more in control of how your emotional reactions impact you.

Analyze the disliked thing. Why does it make you angry? Is that on purpose by the creator of the thing? Would it make someone else angry in the same way? How would you explain the anger to a neutral third party?

Consider responding instead of reacting. Let's say you're seeing a lot of very sad and upsetting things online and it's making you sad and upsetting you. You re-share these things because you don't feel like there's anything else you can do or you get angry when you see people sharing incorrect information, perhaps you argue with people about this. Now try looking at the upsetting things through the lens of point number four. This has upset you; how has it upset you? And once you've thought about how it upset you and have articulated that to yourself, find out what you can DO. I cannot make conservative talk radio go off the air, but I can support the groups harmed by conservative talk radio; thus there is no point in me getting upset and angry about conservative talk radio when I could be helping the people they target instead.

And that gets us to the last big tip which is:

Ask yourself if you are spending your time in a way that is enjoyable and edifying.

We all have limited time in our days and limited time in our lives. If you are finding yourself frequently frustrated online, it's a good time to consider whether you want to be spending so much time online.

If you feel like The Internet has become a rat race in which you can't read more than a few paragraphs without getting frustrated, there's a good chance that not only are you spending too much time on The Internet, but you're also spending it on doing things that you don't particularly like.

A realization like yours, Anon, that you are getting frustrated with any longer texts, can actually be really helpful because it provides a good opportunity to look at what you're engaging with and consider the questions:

Is this something I enjoy?

Do I feel good when I do this thing?

And that's a great way to figure out how to get rid of things that are leading to your background frustration. Maybe that looks like paring down the list of blogs you follow, maybe that looks like unsubscribing from some youtubers and podcasts, maybe that looks like uninstalling apps, maybe that looks like blocking a whole bunch of people and terms on your socials.

I don't think that everything we do has to help us grow as a person or expand our consciousness or anything like that, but I do think it's important to prioritize doing things that you like and doing things that you feel good about.

Like, I'm not doing something *wrong* if I spend an afternoon on Youtube watching drama channels every once in a while, but if I come out of a few afternoons of watching youtube drama channels feeling restless and anxious and like I wasted my time - even if I enjoyed myself while I was watching - it's probably a good idea for me to take a break from drama channels and see if there's something I can do instead that will make me feel better.

ALSO, A NOTE:

You are an animal that requires significant enrichment in your enclosure.

Think about tigers. Tigers in captivity are going to be excited to get high-value treats for any reason. They will eat and enjoy the treats. But if a tiger in captivity is only given the treats and never given any other form of activity to engage with, it is not going to be a happy tiger. If you start putting their treats in a pumpkin or a puzzle feeder or giving them toys to play with, that is going to be a much happier tiger.

Please give your brain things to play with that are more than just treats (though it does need some treats!). Make yourself a happy tiger. Your brain need a puzzle feeder, not a treat button.

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[rynwritesstuff]

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.

Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need. 

He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .

The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him. 

His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood. 

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here. 

Your Kylo Ren.

The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp. 

“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”

Your bottom lip trembles. 

What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you. 

“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers. 

His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place?  This is worth it. This is worth everything. 

“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for? 

Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you. 

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”

You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up. 

“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown. 

“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. 

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops. 

“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . . 

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be. 

“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest. 

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready. 

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

[misssilversunny]

Ok wait i just had a funny idea

Why stop at just a yandere batfamily? Why not all of Gotham?

Like, imagine Bane kidnapping you, calling you his "firefly" or whatever because you're a fleeting light in the darkness or something, and you're more guarded than the actual thing he stole.

And despite that, Poison Ivy manages to nab you, her "little rose", while Bane is busy dealing with Batman. She takes you back to her apartment, where you greet the plants you recognize and introduce yourself to the new ones (There aren't many, you were here 3 months ago).

At some point you take a breath of fresh air through an open window, and Scarecrow grabs you, taking you to his lair, into a room which is also pumped with a special strain of fear gas that makes you cling to him for safety.

And then, shock of all shocks, the one and only, motherfucking Joker snatches you from the lair, leaving behind a dummy for Scarecrow to find. Unlike the others, Joker's obsession is in the fact that everyone else is obsessed with you. He finds it hysterical how one person can have all of Gotham in a spin!

Eventually, the Batfam grabs Reader from the Joker, since he's not actually obsessed so he has them the least guarded, maybe a short conversation with Batman, but even Joker knows he's in water too hot to joke about severe injuries, especially since he doesn't know if Red Hood is nearby.

Batman might not kill, but he cannot guarantee that anyone else wouldn't if he killed their favorite person, and he does not have the influence where he could get away with that.

You get returned to your nice cage room in the manor, where the Batfamily scolds you yet again for another failed escape attempt trip outside getting you shipped around Gotham for weeks!

At this point, you're pretty sure you not only can't leave, but also any attempts at a normal life are pointless. You mostly do this because humans are animals and animals need enrichment, and no, the cycle of games/quality time they're giving you are not a suitable replacement for touching grass and seeing new faces.

Even the brief moments of time between kidnappings, the short moments of normalcy that the other villains, the other heroes and vigilantes give you, are a welcome change of pace.

Bonus points if it's literally everyone in neighboring cities/Justice League, so Superman finds you and you're just like "Well shit" because now you're taken to his house, maybe his parents' farm, and you're kept there until someone catches on that Clark has you.

Also if you tack this onto Spoiled!Reader, this becomes infinitely funnier because In my mind I'm treating that AU as 90% a crack/lighthearted fic, and another thing is I think of them as being ~12 sometimes, so it's the entirety of Gotham fighting over a middle schooler.

If it's an adult Reader, it's more of a "This is fine" as they are carted from villain to villain to vigilante to hero because their family literally has a fan club for them, so their perception of what is "normal" levels of interest is severely skewed.

If you want to go for the Neglected!Reader, then it would be really interesting for them to try and figure out where is a good level of "interested in your hobbies", and doubts whether they're so uncomfortable because they're actually too invested in their day to day life, or if it's because they were neglected for so long that any interest feels overwhelming.

Btw all asks about Spoiled!Reader and this Reader are welcome!

[scudevils]

baby, it’s cold outside — JB9

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader

warnings: smut, morning breath doesn’t exist, established relationship, pwp, swearing, not proofread!!

inspired by: “baby it’s cold outside” by dean martin [2.3k]

a/n: ew i hate the ending okay i can never write them 😔😔

joe would never deny his hatred of the cold, from playing in it to simply just feeling it, he hated the way it nipped at his skin, leaving his hands red and sore, the way his face flushed. you, however, found it adorable, when he flashed up on the big screen and his cheeks had turned a pretty pink, the tip of his nose starting to look like rudolph.

a winter storm had sure set in for the night, your bedroom window frosted over as the pale morning sun reflected off of the snow outside, glistening like shining jewels across the grass, although you knew it’d be a pain to clean off of the car, the picture was so winter wonderland it was worth the hassle in your eyes.

winters in cincinnati were rough for him, he still hadn't adapted to the below 10 mornings in the years he'd been with the team, instead seeking your comfort and warmth in the bed you shared before his early practices, never wanting to leave the safe space of his covers in the morning, savouring it as he dragged himself to the shower, where for some reason he refused to had warm morning showers, even when you joined them with him.

you felt his stirring in his sleep, already been awake for at least half an hour with his arm still wrapped loosely around your waisg, always an early riser despite the later sun rises you were getting, your room still covered in a blanket of darkness despite the time on the alarm clock reading 6:58 am in bold, due to go off any minute to wake joe up for practice, and whilst you had the luxury of going back to sleep, he did not, so you were left to your own thoughts.

in the corner of the room, a small decorated tree stuck out in your thoughts, a smile tugging on your lips at the memory of getting it with him when you'd first moved in together two years ago, and thereafter decorating it together, your first christmas seeming so long ago like a blur in your mind. your vanity in the other corner of your room was adorned with other decorations, the picture of you and joe at your first christmas tree lighting in high school together front and centre.

your attention fell back to the sleeping man beside you, his hand subconsciously with a grip on your hip, still deep in whatever dream he was having as you could make out his eyebrows furrowing in the rays of the rising sun that reflected in through the open drawn curtains. down his neck and along his collarbone you caught a glimpse of the marks from the night before, purple and red bruises littering the taut skin, scratch marks travelling over his shoulder and down his back.

mornings together like these were easily up there as the favourite part of your relationship with joe, you both had busy lives, so it was always special to you to have time spent together wether asleep or not. neither of you had any other need than staying close to the other, the gentle rise and fall of his chest soothing you almost to sleep again. just on time, his alarm sounded in the background, feeling him pulling you closer into him as he let out a tired groan, unhappy that he'd been brought out of his peaceful slumber.

tiredly, you left soft kisses across his bare skin, making his waking up at least a little bit more manageable, tilting your head to look up at him when you reached his chest, a small smile forming on your lips as you noticed the tip of his nose had turned a light pink, the coldness in the air wasn't missed by him as he brought the duvet further up your bodies.

the hand you had draped over joe's midriff moved to trace over his bare chest, feeling the goosebumps raising on his skin from the coldness in your touch, the heat of his body quickly fighting it off as you felt the muscles contracting under your light touch when your touch went lower. you tried to bring your hand lower down his body, the feeling of his grabbing your wrists held you back, reactions still quick despite his tired state.

"just wanna warm you up." you said innocently, unconvincingly apparently , as joe finally opened his eyes to meet yours, the mischievousness hiding in plain sight behind them. teasingly, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he leant in, his lips slightly cold at first, warming up quickly against your own as his hand crawled its way up and down your leg, a slight squeeze of your ass when he got there before resting it back on your hips.

he had brought your leg up to sit on his hip, the motion having him so close you could feel his entire body against you, the heat radiating off him. the action also allowed him to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips as you let him take control, pulling you on top of his body, legs straddling his hips now. from your position now, you could see the corners of the windows had began to frost, the sight of snow undeniable as the sun reflected off of its bright surface. there was still a chill in the air, bringing the covers up to cover your body as you sat over him.

you lightly traced your finger down his face, the one you shamelessly loved to look at so much, the one you looked for in the stadium from your seat and he looked back. the eyelashes you'd always been jealous of framed his eyes perfectly, even as he held them sleepily open, his eyes were mesmerising, forcing you to hold eye contact with him.

there was no way you could talk about how much you loved his face without mentioning his lips - ones that have explored your own and your body only hours ago - you swore he's memorised his way around by now. his bottom lip slightly juts you graze it with your thumb, watching it fall back into place when you let go.

"did i not tire you out enough last night?" for the first time that morning, you're blessed with his morning voice, raspy and deep and deep and one you're sure you'll never get sick of, wanting to hear it every morning for the rest of your lift, a christmas present from him.

you lean closer to him, muscular arms wrapping around your back to hold you secure as you did so, lips just barely grazing joes ear. "could never get tired of you, joey."

just barely, you could hear him swearing under his breath, absentmindedly rolling your hips down against him with the grip he had on you, heat rushing to your cheeks as a small moan escaped your lips from the friction. "you're gonna be the death of me, baby." he muttered to you under his breath, smiling at him teasingly, you gave an experimental grind of your hips, wanting to see how much control he was willing to give you.

he lifted you off of him slightly, the pair of boxer shorts you'd stole from him that now acted as sleep shorts, off in an instant and you were back down on him, the pair of basketball shorts he'd been wearing pulled down just enough to free his cock. "gotta head to practice soon, we're gonna have to be quick." you knew if it was up to him he'd have you both locked in the room, tangled up in your bedsheets together, spending the rest of the day in each others arms, but he unfortunately didn't have time on his side.

you craved his touch, feeling his semi-hardon against you since the moment you'd woken up, feeling the way his hips subconsciously rutted against your ass, and you'd be a liar to say that it didn't turn you on that he wanted you in his dreams just as much as he wanted you awake. a prolonged whine fell from your lips as he bottomed out inside of you, about to drag your hips in a rocking motion when you pressed your hand against his chest.

with less than a second to react, he pressed his lips against yours, the kiss far too intense for a quick morning make out, had your head spinning, the slow drag of his hips slipping a moan from your lips into his mouth. tracking down your jaw and neck, his lips left dark purple marks in their wake in various sizes and shades. you whined as he bit into the soft skin at the base of your neck, soothing the stinging with his tongue.

"fuck joey, thought we had to be quick." your words were breathless, absentmindedly grinding your hips down to meet his and you could feel him deep inside of you, his hands not providing you with aid as he made you do the work to get yourself there, instead running his tongue along your collarbone as he made a mess of your chest with hickey's, in places only his eyes would see, driving him even more feral for you.

“can always take my time with you.” he confessed, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, the hands that hadn’t helped you before now rested on your hips, keeping you at a steady space, occasionally thrusting up to meet your rhythm but with the most part letting you take your time.

you could feel one of his hands move from your hip, his large palm finding its way to the inside of your thigh and giving the soft flesh a squeeze before his hand grazed over your cunt, a small moan escaping your lips as your head dropped to the hollow part of his shoulder. his thumb toying with your clit as you clenched around him. “fuck, can feel your close, baby.”

you were only able to respond with a short hum, pleading and whining at him to give you more when he began to take over your hips, moving them against him quicker now, someone feeling him deeper inside of you, like he was hitting every spot that had your eyesight fogging and toe’s curling from the pleasure. “shit, joe,” you could feel your orgasm building, practically knocking at the door as your bodies moved against each other.

his hands roamed all over your body as if he was exploring it for the first time, the cold tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he held you down against him, stopping your movements before he begun thrusting up into you, the pleasure overwhelming as you fell against his chest, one of his hands coming to cup your breast, squeezing the flesh and rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers before giving the same attention to the other. “you’re so beautiful, baby.”

you could hear the roughness in his voice, driving you more crazy for him than you already were, as you took back a little more of the control as your hips connected with his faster, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, long forgotten was the winter chill as you took solace in each others bodies, the time on the clock already reading that he’d be late for practice if he didn’t get up now, but he couldn’t have cared less, his attention fully on you as his blue eyes pierced yours, you could see how he was holding himself back, waiting for you to finish before he did and rhe sentiment alone drove you absolutely feral.

the sight of you on top of him was almost too much for him to control himself, the blissed out state on his face becoming more apparent as you clenched around him when his thumb found your clit against, quickening against the sensitive spot and it finally had you tumbling over the edge, your body falling flat against joe’s, the only reason your hips continued moving was because of his hands, working you through it as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, a low guttural groan falling from his lips as he finished inside of you.

his hands wrapped around your back, pulling you against his chest as your hands fell comfortably on his shoulders, the tension in your body gone and you whined as he slid out of you slowly, a comforting hand rubbing up and down your back as the cold air began to bite at you again, the quiet a welcomed state.

you stayed like this for a few minutes, joe making the first move to get up as he went and got a towel to clean you up, and you heard him from the bathroom as he let out a “fuck i’m gonna be so late.” after finally reading the time on the alarm clock.