#limerence series

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ falling action ] | sylus

— summary: he kissed you. you pretend it didn’t mean anything. sylus tries to show you it meant everything. — cw: reader is not mc, language, sexual tension, self-loathing, mutual pining, jealousy, blood & violence, self-deprecating thoughts, profanity, misunderstandings, romance, self-indulgent, wild caleb sighting, mdni — notes: thank you @subliminalwish for inspiring this part! and thank you all for reading! [ pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 ] — now playing: fuel to fire - agnes obel btbt - b.i

Their timing couldn’t be more impeccable—the twins. Your saving grace.

Sylus is a tempest. A storm ravaging the rickety foundation of your boat. He kisses greedy. Commanding, sipping from you like a fountain amid a desert. Swallowing the gruff little keens you make. You burn hot wherever he touches. His hands are like branding irons on your skin, amplified by the thin taffeta of your dress as they smooth up and down the curvature of your waist.

You’re dizzy when he snatches away, a growl in his throat. His lips are kiss-swollen. Burn a pretty red, stained by your lipstick. His eyes smolder like embers through the living room’s haze. Catch in the moonlight, gleaming a potent shade of scarlet. He reminds you of something beastly. Predatory. 

You did this to him?

In contrast, you’re sludge in his hands, swimming, blinking, drunk, and trying to remember how to breathe. For a moment, he appears hesitant. Gaze flits between your eyes and mouth as he holds you by your hips. Rubs reassuring circles into your hip bones with his thumbs. He’s so pretty like this. Inebriated by passion, silken white hair mussed from your greedy fingers. Expensive, pleated shirt all rumpled, bow tie loosened, composure thrown to hell.

But his phone keeps ringing. An obnoxious chime that makes your lips quirk despite the vertigo sweeping over you. It cuts through the wispy film of the night. Cleaves through the nebulous cloud of desire hanging between you, and with a bitten-off sound, he finally tugs his cell free of his pocket. 

He watches you as he brings it to his ear. Cups your cheek, brushing over your bottom lip with the worn pad of his thumb. Tugs it down, entranced by its elasticity. Its fullness. Your fingers clasp around his wrist. You nuzzle into the safety of his palm. Turn your mouth inward, blistering it with a kiss. Affection intermingled with amusement colors your eyes. He’s like a spoiled child, snatched off the playground before he was ready to leave.

“What,” he clips into the mic. 

A hesitant voice peers through the low static. Luke. “Mission accomplished, bossman.” You imagine Kieran peeking over his brother’s shoulder in the background, wariness hidden behind that gaudy bird mask. “All cleaned up over here.”

Sylus sighs something weighted. Shaky. Relieved. His shoulders drop with it, then tense again. The agitation doesn’t leave his face. Something’s on his mind. Something more pressing than a few ornery goons trying to hunt you down. You nip at his fingertips to assuage the divot forming between his brows. The taut pull of his lips. 

He hangs up without another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Draws you close, preparing to kiss you breathless once more. 

But it seems fate is a cruel, mischievous mistress, intervening when she deems it fit.

Because, this time, your phone rings. 

You stiffen. Sylus glowers at your—his—coat pocket. Studies you. He’s conflicted. Looks as if the world is descending into hell around him. Like he wants to take your phone and shatter it on the wall. You offer him a placating smile. Smooth a hand over his cheek before tugging your cell out. It’s only fair you leave him as on edge as he left you. 

He doesn’t let it deter him, pulling you impossibly closer. Peppers your neck with kisses, drawing a soft huff of laughter from your chest. Your head falls back, and he cradles it with his fingers, baring your throat to him. Groans something appreciative, writing the most beautiful compliments of all against your skin with his lips. 

You’re not thinking when you answer, too swept up in the moment. Dizzy from the needy drag of his lips over your carotid. Don’t think until a familiar lilt touches your ear, and a cold thrill shoots down your spine.

Little. Ms. Hunter. 

Fuck. 

Reality trickles in like the slow creep of a rainstorm, mooring you to the spot. You shove against Sylus’ chest. He ingests you with pinched brows, heavy lids, an open mouth. ‘What’s wrong?’ his expression reads. He’s desperate. Needy. Like you’re his lifeline, an IV drip.

You push against him again, chest so very hard and so wonderfully defined against the heel of your palm. You need space. You can’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason now. 

His hands reluctantly drop from your waist, falling listlessly at his sides. He turns away, rubbing the scruff of his neck with a sigh.

“What’s up?” you bite. Try to mask the waver of your voice, your quivering tendons. 

“Hey, how ya doin’?” She’s infuriatingly chipper. Happy for someone halfway across the world, as if she knows you’re up to no good. 

You don’t bother with pleasantries. You’re caught between wanting to laugh and cry. Damn the universe for spoiling your fun. “What do you need?”

The hunter’s hesitant for a beat. You envision her shifting her weight between her feet. Fiddling with her nails, her gaze cast to the floor. It’s not often you’re terse with her, at least not these days. You worked through those kinks of your relationship months back. But forgive you for being a little impatient. A little snippy when you finally satiated the ache between your teeth. 

“Sooo, I’m back earlier than expected. My ride cancelled on me. Would you mind picking me up from the airport? I’ll pay you back! Promise!” 

“You can’t catch a cab?” You push back your hair. Peer over your shoulder, hand cupped around the mic as if you’re whispering a secret. Sylus is behind you a little ways off, hand on hip; silhouette suffused in amber as he examines some picture frames on the sofa table, pretending not to eavesdrop.  

“Yeah, but it’s late! I don’t wanna get kidnapped, ya know?”

You suppress a frustrated sound, disbelieving. Not just of her, but the timing of everything. The reminder of what you’ve done and what you still want to do. One day, you’ll learn not to answer your phone. And one day, you’ll learn to tell your conscience to fuck right the hell off.

“Fine. Yeah, sure. Just…gimme a minute.”

“You’re the best! I don’t care what the twins say about you!” 

The call ends, and you sigh, leaning into your palm, propped against the frost-bitten windowpane. It grounds you in a way, its crispness a welcome contrast to your fevered skin. 

You jolt when Sylus emerges behind you in the form of artful hands melding to your waist. In the form of warm breath kissing the sensitive space behind your ear. His lips graze the shell of it. You snatch away as if scorched by fire, turning, spine acquainting itself with the window. Space. You need space. 

He gives you no time to breathe, spilling over you like liquid fire. Cages you in with his arms. Angles closer, swaddling you in the dangerous warmth of his body. Bathes you in the bewitching scent he carries, in the lazy, lust-laden stir of his eyes. You shirk away from his touch when his fingertips graze your cheek. He bristles.

Your heart pinches at the wounded look on his face. At how his fingers twitch before curling into a loose fist and falling back to his side. You duck away from him, a nervous smile dragging itself across your face. 

“She’s back,” you state plainly. It tastes bitter, acknowledging it aloud. Your belly swoops. You think you might be sick. “Asked if I could pick her up.”

His expression slackens. Gaze descends to the floor. “This late?”

You nod solemnly. 

Shouldn’t he be happy his Aphrodite has returned?

It’s unnervingly quiet between you now, making way for the whisper of the wind threading through the leaves outside where the sticky click of your lips and labored breaths once lived. 

Your throat clicks when you swallow. You want nothing more than to pull him against you again, to be wrapped in the possessive circle of his arms. To pick up where you left off before morality leaked in. But that call served as your reality check, and you’re both grateful and resentful it came when it did.

Sylus beholds you with beseeching eyes. Looks as if he might protest, lips quivering around an excuse to draw you back in. But he drops it. Instead, he opts for, “I’ll bring the car around,” sounding so uncharacteristically somber that you wince. 

He brushes past you through the front door, swallowed by the dust-speckled night. Leaves you to nurse the violent thrum of your heart and battle the maelstrom in your head. 

She’s back. Things will return to normal. This moment never happened. This night never happened. 

Still, your lips burn with the remnants of the kiss. You unconsciously touch the trembling, distended things, deciding to tuck the memory into the furthest hulls of your mind. 

He’s not yours, remember? Never will be. Never could be.

—

The ride to the airport was uncomfortably tense. 

Sylus tried vainly to reignite the flames sparked by the night—little displays of affection, possession. Spindly fingers curling around your thigh, a peek at you through the corner of his vision, knuckles deftly brushing your cheek to bring you back to the present. 

You inched away from his touch despite every synapse in your brain screaming for you to let it happen. He gave up after the third try. Gripped the gear stick, white-knuckled and radiating a silent dejectedness. 

You forced out a shaky breath when the overwhelmingly bright, fluorescent airport signs panned into view. 

“Heya!” chirped Ms. Hunter, pulling you into a tight hug once you dismounted the car. “You look all fancy. What have you been up to?”

You were stiff in her embrace, a tight smile pulling at your lips. She smelled of stale perfume and wet earth. Long hair tickled your neck. She radiated a warmth you envied as you rigidly returned the hug.

“Oh, you know. Nefarious things and all that.”

Ms. Hunter drew back, hands roosted on your shoulders. Her smile faltered when she got a good look at you. When the driver’s door slammed shut, and Sylus rounded the car to stand behind you, hands stuffed in his pockets. Her honey-dipped eyes flit over your face. She sensed something was up. Of course, she did. Anyone within a 50-mile radius could see the tension dangling off your shoulders. She looked like she wanted to interrogate you, but—

“Welcome back,” said Sylus, his tone easy. You were thankful for the save. Didn’t have to look back to know he was wearing that familiar cant to his lips. A look he, until tonight, only wore for her. “I take it your mission went well, given how early you returned.” 

You would've tasted the faint notes of indignation there had you not been so swept up in your head. 

“You have no idea,” she laughed, exhaustion lancing through her words. You pat her head, fondly ruffling her hair. 

He helped her put her suitcase in the trunk as she animatedly regaled the details of her mission. He smirked and nodded, listening intently. You tuned everything out in favor of listening to your pulse drum beneath your skin. 

Sylus held the passenger door open, watching you expectantly. Signaled for you to get in with his eyes as Ms. Hunter stood awkwardly behind you. The tension was tangible. Obvious. It made you sick.

He frowned when you forwent the passenger seat, sliding into the back. The front seat was always her place. You were merely squatting there, keeping the leather warm in her absence. You caught sight of the tense set of his jaw when he shut the door behind her. Your heart sank to your feet. 

As Sylus eased the car onto the highway, they filled the stiff, blue-light-tinged air with small talk. Their conversation was seamless as if no time had lapsed between them. You propped an elbow on the door, watching the scenery fly by in a blur beyond your window. 

And you shut your eyes against those scarlet irises occasionally observing you in the rearview mirror, a silent question brewing beneath bowed lashes.

‘Have I done something wrong?’

No. Never. It’s you who’s royally fucked up.

—

“Listen, sweetheart. You both seem like nice girls. But I ain’t budgin’.”

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time. Scoff, a rigid set between your teeth. You’ve been like this for what feels like hours, propped against a wall, arms crossed, mind tumultuous. 

A few days after the hunter returned, Sylus sent his two gems to reclaim some of his property. Thelma and Louis at it again. 

You should be thrilled. You’ve been itching for a distraction since that night. When you let your emotions overwhelm you, and you gave into your selfish little whims. You can’t focus on much else, the pressure of Sylus’ lips still ingrained in your mind. The texture of his shirt sleeves between your fingers, the sound of his voice as he rasped his satisfaction into your skin. It replays like torn film reels in your mind, refusing to release you from its flimsy clutches. 

Since that night, he’s been uncharacteristically attentive. Filling the space with errant touches and lingering gazes. Rare quirks of his lips, an affectionate, secretive undernote to his timbre whenever he speaks to you. And his eyes. They bear more emotion than what you’re accustomed to seeing. 

It’s all been so very confusing, this new attitude of his. You don’t like it when things aren’t clear-cut and dry. Hate to beat around the bush.

You figured his attention would shift with the center of his universe back in rotation. 

To your chagrin and surprise, you’re wrong. You assume he’s only being so disarming because he needs you. Not just as his pretty little violent marionette. His honeypot. When Ms. Hunter inevitably leaves again—the life of a hunter must be so taxing—he’ll need someone to fall back on. A failsafe to keep his loneliness at bay. You just so happen to fit the bill.

The notion makes you scowl. The butcher’s voice isn’t helping curb your vexation, his laughter obnoxious and filled with phlegm. His fat ass isn’t taking either of you seriously. Of course, if you were him, you wouldn’t, either. 

Ms. Hunter’s been at this for a while, playing good cop to your bad. Trying to nice her way into getting him to sign the deed to his property back to Sylus. Really, it belongs to the latter man. He was just allowing the butcher to squat here while he carried out his work for Onychinus, slaughtering its opposition and packaging up their remains like fresh meat, shipping them off to anyone who dared utter the organization’s name in vain.

His use has run its course. He’s grown sloppy. Complacent. Disloyal. Been letting other faction leads buy him off, selling his knack of butchering to the highest bidder. He should be so lucky you’re not here to slit his throat.

Inwardly, you wonder if someday, you’ll suffer the same fate. If Ms. Hunter will be sent to snuff you out—your successor wiping you off the map like a blip on the radar. 

Until then, you’ll make yourself as indispensable as possible. Prove your worth. 

You push off the wall with a huff, face set with determination as adrenaline spumes through you. You close the distance between you and the hunter in four brisk strides. Snatch her pistol from the holster at her waist, barring her sentence in her throat. It’s weighted. Loaded. Good. 

You rack a round. Release the safety. The butcher barely has time to register anything before you aim. Inhale. Exhale. Pull the trigger at the lowest lull of your breath. And it’s so gratifying, the sound of a bullet whizzing past his ear and embedding itself in the plaster behind him. 

He’s petrified with fright behind his desk, mouth hinged open. Ms. Hunter blurs into focus beyond the front sight, turning incredulous eyes on you before narrowing them. The barrel’s still smoking, a satisfying, wispy cloud furling skyward. The leather grip squeaks in your hand, you’re holding it so tight. 

“Was that really necessary?” she berates. She’s doing that whisper-yelling thing. You’re in for an earful later. 

You shrug half-heartedly, reholstering her weapon. Push past, tugging the sleeves of your blazer up. “I’ve had enough of this,” you grate, snatching your leather gloves from your pocket and slipping them on with practiced precision. 

Neither of them knows what’s coming until you step behind the butcher. Until you’ve taken a fistful of sweaty, grease-slicked hair and acquainted his face with the bubbling finish of his desk with a loud thwack!

Ms. Hunter watches the scene unfold with horror twisting up her features. She’s rooted to the spot. Something plops on the desk. Evolves into a steady, sticky drip. Blood. Corrupted speckles of red staining the deed you’re meant to get signed. 

You lock eyes with your partner, bending at the waist over the butcher’s shoulder, grip unyielding on his hair. A show of power. Dominance, meant to convey, ‘This is how it’s done.’

A smirk twitches onto your lips. Your mouth brushes the outer shell of his ear, voice coming out deceptively doting. “Sign the fucking paper, or I’ll string you up like one of your little pigs and turn you into dog shit.”

His voice is wet. Strained, unflattering streaks of crimson leaking from his nose to puddle on the desk. “But—”

The hunter winces when you slam his face down again. He’s disoriented now. Swaying. If not for your iron grip on his hair, he’d fall into the arms of unconsciousness. 

“Okay, okay!” he relents, garbled and wet. 

You release his hair, shoving at his head none-too-gently, a facsimile of a smile rounding your lips. Perch a hand on his shoulder, squeezing with enough coercion to remind him of your potency. “Pleasure doing business with you, old man.”

The air thickens with fear. It’s quiet, save for the scratch of the butcher’s pen, as he shakily scrawls his signature on the deed, relinquishing his shop back to Sylus. You scrutinize the blood-flecked paper, satisfied. 

“I’ll give you until midnight to get the fuck out of here,” you casually say, snatching off your gloves to smooth out the lapels of your blazer. “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee your safety after.”

You leave the butcher to nurse a broken nose and a nasty headache, pushing past Ms. Hunter with a cocksure grin. 

“What the hell was that?!” she squeaks, rushing to keep pace with you as you step into the warm atmosphere outside, walking towards the sleek outline of your SUV.

“Business.”

“Yeah, but…did you have to threaten him like that? I mean, you could’ve killed the guy!”

With a scowl, you snatch the passenger door open for her to get in. “If you have a problem with how I do things, maybe you’re not cut out for this life, sweetheart.”

She scoffs disbelievingly. Haughty as she plops down on the passenger seat, crossing her arms. You’re being more venomous than usual. More pushy. You’re too far gone. You’ll apologize for making her your punching bag later. 

“What’s up with you?” she pressures once you’ve settled on the driver's side, discarding your gloves in the center console. Leans closer, squinting. You ease back. “You’ve been more bitchy than usual. You and Sylus have been acting weird.” 

She’s closer now, bursting your metaphorical bubble. Dangerously perceptive. You avoid eye contact as if doing so will reveal all the contents of your mind. Not that you have to. She’s alarmingly observant for someone who acts so naive. 

“Did something happen between you?”

You side-eye her as you start the engine, unknowingly confirming her suspicions. She quirks a brow, catching onto your game. Falls back against the leather of her seat to sulk over folded arms. “I knew it. Unbelievable. Didn’t I tell you to play nice while I was gone?!” 

“I’m always nice,” you counter under your breath, glaring at the console screen as you back up the SUV. 

The steering wheel scrubs between your hands after you shift to Drive, and as you slide the vehicle into the steady stream of traffic, you catch sight of the blood mottling the cuff of your sleeve, begging to differ. 

Maybe you’re being more ornery than you think.     

— 

The base is a network of paneled walls and glittering floors. Had you not been well-versed with its layout, you would surely get lost. But you’ve been here too many times. Once slept between these walls, laughed with the twins, and shared a glass of wine or two with your boss. 

Sometimes, he’d let you lie in his bed when your head was too fuzzy, and you couldn’t stop smiling after the wine left you tenuous and dazed. Nothing ever happened, much to your dismay. He was a gentleman through and through. And you never questioned him on why it was always his bed.

Things changed once Ms. Hunter entered the scene. 

This place used to be your asylum. Your respite from a world so vapid. For a moment, you could pretend the blood caked beneath your nails didn’t exist. And you could pretend you weren’t a weapon to be used at your employer’s disposal. But these days, you’ve avoided his mansion like a sickness, instead retreating to your own place in the city. You’re impeding. These walls no longer welcome you. 

You feel like a specter with unresolved conflict as you round the hall where Sylus’ study sits at its center. Your heart hurls itself against your rib cage. You’ve been distant since that night, shying away from his attempts to disarm you. All half-hearted ventures to keep you dangling on a frayed string until he next needs you to fill the void the hunter inevitably leaves. 

You tamp down your anxiety when the cool steel of the door handle bites into your palm. The voice inside is muffled. Deep. Resonant. Sylus is talking business. Orchestrating things that don’t concern you until he makes them your problem. You’ll be quick. Don’t want to stick around longer than necessary.  

Pushing open the heavy mahogany wood, you’re greeted by a shock of white nestled behind his desk. He’s on the phone. Looks up upon your entry, scarlet eyes narrowing, then softening with recognition. Your throat thickens.

You try to ignore how his look makes your stomach somersault. How every crevice of his office smells like him—bourbon, raw energy, and all things safe. You’re thrown back into the memory of that dusky night. The seal of his lips to yours, his fingers easing over the contours of your body like points on a star map.

Ignoring your thoughts, you conquer the distance between the door and his desk in measured strides, looking everywhere but at him. It’s too risky to maintain eye contact. He has a hold on you without trying. Without the straggly pull of his Evol, without the smoky compulsion of his voice. 

You plant the deed on the desk’s center with a muted thunk. His fingertips brush your knuckles, over the clutch of your hand. Static radiates between you. You reel back quicker than you mean to, bereft of the roughened slide of his fingers. Clear your throat, straighten your jacket. There’s a pinch between his brows, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. 

Sylus peers down at the paper, an inquisitive brow lifting at the oxidized brown dappling it. You give him a half-hearted shrug. You did your part. How you got there is a story for another day.

You don’t wait for him to dismiss you, wordlessly stepping away with a curt nod. He continues his conversation over your shoulder, and your body swells with relief. It’s short-lived when Ms. Hunter brushes past you on your way out of the door, tight-lipped and side-eyeing you with all the vexation of the world. 

Before you leave, you wait for the door to click shut behind you, catching wind of the hunter’s ire before thick layers of wood distort it. 

“Hang up the phone. We need to talk. Now.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. To forget yourself. 

Lux is lively tonight. Colored with mirth and strobing lights. Pounding music. You feel it in your chest as you move, a seductive, rehearsed smile crooking your lips. You rake your fingers through your hair. Drag your hands down the sweep of your waist, swiveling your hips, playing up your allure. You don’t have to do much to garner attention—it’s your job, remember?

You peacock about in the white metal birdcage you're housed in. Grab the bars, grinning down at the writhing crowd. It was your idea to give Lux a little umph, sweet-talking Sylus into having massive bird cages mounted from the ceiling. Fitting, given his obsession with pretty caged things.

Lux’s theme is ever-changing, courtesy of your eccentric mind. It keeps people coming in droves. Forces his enemies to rear their hideous mugs, lured to the nightclub by the promise of pretty women. 

The air between you was still dense. Rife with pheromones and unbidden feelings. But you were back donning your playful, arrogant mask as if the night you shared never existed. Back to flirting and giving Sylus the piss. 

The large faux wings you wear are surprisingly light. Stark, like the beautiful white tiger lounging on one side of the cage. The Bengal tiger yawns wide, giving you a show of pointed teeth. Teeth that could easily rip you asunder, yet he’s as docile as a house cat when you bend to pet through soft tufts of white. 

He slow-blinks at you, his gorgeous eyes shining like emeralds uncovered in a cave. You smile as you smooth your thumb over his nose. A pink tongue darts out to lick your palm. He reminds you of yourself—capable of extreme violence, yet docile in patient hands.

Your skin prickles. You notice you’re being watched, but not in a way you’re used to. A way that typically exudes desire. 

You turn to ingest a set of galaxy-infused eyes watching you intently through the throng of people. Youthful pockets of fat hang beneath his lower lids. A dark sweep of hair, thick brows. He towers over the crowd, a distinct cutout of virility and shrouded intentions. You don’t recall ever seeing him before. 

When your gazes intermingle, he smiles something corrupted. It doesn’t reach his eyes. You’re all too familiar with that look—one of a predator scoping out its next meal. Prey it intends to take its time eviscerating, licking its bones clean.

You smile all the more wider, and you smooth your hands over your body, maintaining eye contact as you play up the theatrics. It’s ritualistic in a way, how you move. Like you’re provoking him. You don’t know who this man is, but he’s ballsy, stepping into your den, challenging you.  

You tear your eyes away when the door to your cage swings open behind you, rocking it slightly on its hinges. A sizable hand peers in. You glance out, met with a riotous mop of white. Sylus. Gaze half-slit, relaxed. 

“Take five,” he says above the thumping music. 

You peer over your shoulder while taking his hand. The stranger you earlier locked eyes with has vanished, almost as if he were never there. You don’t pursue it. Not now at least. You allow Sylus to coax you down from the cage via hands at your waist. Stumble into him once on the ground, the air siphoned from your lungs. You're dizzy and breathless, being so close. He’s warm, smells divine, and you feel safe. Your palms press against his chest, his fingers wrapped about the crooks of your elbows to steady you.

He studies you with a reverent gleam to his irises as if he intends to kiss you, uncaring of any witnesses. Any questions. You shake away the thought, remembering yourself—your stance in his life. You offer him half a smile before retreating past him to the private bar for a drink. Something to ease your nerves, to cool your fevered skin.

Sylus’ expression hardens behind you as he scrutinizes the space you once stared at yourself. You don’t see the tenebrous threads of his Evol pouring from his body, licking the air. Don’t feel his aura bleeding a quieted malice, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. 

— tags: @unknown-ends, @viqlume, @nicohii, @beewilko, @lunebulous, @subliminalwish, @emneedshelp, @inkonparchment, @snowfall-jess, @bingbongchu, @greeenbeean, @shiorihoshino, @sillyfreakfanparty, @glamouroki, @midiplier, @kiri-tuk, @delulusimps, @moonlight-inthe-sea

climax 2.0 | masterlist | resolution

[kykyonthemoon]

Limerence

(noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, emotional and mind control, manipulation, obsession, unrequited love, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, sci-fi theme, m.urder, serial killer, imprisonment, abusive, reference to drugs.

⋆˚✿˖° Detective Cooper is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Rafayel's ✦ Xavier's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

Chapter: The Goddess — in which he heals and kills for her

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: 4k3

Each white snowflake descended gently to the earth, resting on Detective Cooper's black revolver, which was frozen in the air. The crystal barricade in front of him fractured and dissolved. The ice on his palm eventually melted into frozen droplets of water, allowing him to move again. With a very slow movement, he lowered the gun.

From a distance, sirens sounded. He stared at the city of Linkon on the horizon, which appeared like shimmering stars in the black night. An aircraft had just been dispatched and was flashing its light into the garden, revealing all of the secrets kept hidden for so long.

Cooper narrowed his gaze. He glanced up to the middle of the garden full of jasmine blooms, where there was a shelter made of marble and wood. In the center of that place, on a daybed an ice sculpture of a female in a reclining posture. Prostrating next to her was another figure who had not yet entirely frozen; his head rested on the daybed, and his icy hand held the sculpture's.

Detective Cooper took a deep breath. The cool breeze carried an almost faint aroma of jasmine. He turned and walked away, leaving the tragedy where it had started.

It seemed like just yesterday when Detective Cooper met Zayne for the first time.

The young doctor left the first impression on Cooper as a perfect combination of mechanics and biology. A cyborg. Zayne was a product of ASTRA, the world's foremost technology corporation dedicated to developing robots with human bodies, living like humans, and, of course, exceeding humans in numerous aspects.

That was such a problem with cyborgs. They were too sophisticated, too knowledgeable, and too competent. They overwhelmed real humans, even Cooper. This was how it felt to work with Zayne.

Thanks to the doctor's help, Cooper quickly solved the case. And even though he did not like working with cyborgs, he had to admit that Zayne's presence was necessary for his career. Through repeated contacts, the ice wall surrounding him melted over time. And Zayne, a cyborg, gradually revealed more of his human side.

As for Cooper, he had long considered Zayne a partner. But an occurrence five years ago transformed the doctor into an entirely different person. A cyborg that showed no emotion, as he used to be.

Cooper recalled a tragic accident that occurred in Linkon's suburbs that year. On the way back from her vacation, the little princess of the ASTRA empire was viciously attacked by Wanderers. Upon hearing the news, Cooper hurried there immediately. Yet all he saw were the Wanderers' bodies rapidly dissolving in the snow, blood spraying all over the place, covering Zayne's wide back as he turned away, the dying girl in his arms. That was the last time Cooper interacted with him.

It was not until five years later that Cooper set foot back in Dr. Zayne's office.

It was a late night. The streets were deserted, with flickering neon lights obscuring the sanitation robots. The city slept, but Akso Hospital remained awake as always. Detective Cooper sat alone in the office, waiting. Few hours later, the door opened and Zayne walked inside with perfectly synchronized steps.

“Long time no see, Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne nodded to the detective before returning to his seat behind the desk. He was still wearing his surgical attire, which was concealed by a white blouse. His spectacles were pushed up on the bridge of his nose, and his forehead was still beading with sweat.

"I trust that the surgery was successful?"

"Yes." Zayne replied briefly. Surely he knew what Cooper came here for. “My apologies for making you wait so long.”

"No problem." Cooper settled into the chair across from Zayne on the opposite side of the desk. The doctor remained the same, impeccable as the first time they met. Only Cooper had begun to feel old age creeping up on him, even though he was only nearly forty.

“Saving lives is the most important,” Cooper added. “That's what you were created to do.”

Zayne gave no response, just gazed at him.

“All right, no more rambling. I really need your help, Doctor Zayne.”

"I'm ready to help." Zayne expressed the same thing whenever they worked together. Cooper provided a quick summary of the matter he was investigating. It was a missing case. Many, to be precise. He had enough evidence to assume that the most recent incident was linked to cases that had occurred many years ago.

Cooper placed on the desk photos of the girl who had been missing for nearly half a year. Zayne paid great attention to them while listening to the detective's clarification, which included details about previous cases.

“The victims were young women between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. Their appearance has many similarities. And above all, they are all patients or have been treated at Akso Hospital.”

Silence fell on Doctor Zayne's extremely organized and clean office, furnished in a minimalist and modern manner with a black and white color scheme. A moment later, he said:

“I recognize a few faces here. They were my patients. Others belong to departments that I do not supervise.”

Cooper nodded, but seemed disappointed since he had anticipated Zayne to add something he did not know.

Their conversation went on for a little longer, yet it led them nowhere. Although Zayne gave valuable information regarding each victim's itinerary while at Akso Hospital, including who they might meet during that time, (Cooper was secretly grateful for a cyborg's superior abilities!), the investigation remained deadlocked. All victims vanished after being discharged from the hospital without any further contact.

The clock struck three in the morning, Cooper's thoughts became clouded with exhaustion, rendering him unable to think. He needed to alter the subject.

“It's been a while since we talked like this. You know, about the cases or other things in our lives.”

His response was the consistent, precise sound of Zayne typing on the keyboard.

"This feeling doesn't change either!" Cooper said with a laugh. At that point, his gaze was drawn to the corner of Zayne's desk, where there was a photograph of him and the heiress of the ASTRA corporation - the one who had given him life.

"How is she?"

Zayne's fingers, which were racing across the keyboard, came to a halt. Something shifted in his eyes for only a fraction of a second. Then he returned to his former state.

“She is well. Thank you for your regards.”

The young lady in the photo was smiling and clutching a bouquet of flowers while standing close to Zayne. She was so beautiful and talented. Yet since that accident, she had entirely concealed herself in an isolated place distant from Linkon City. She refused to appear in public, nor did she welcome guests to her mansion. She only kept one cyborg with her, and that was Zayne.

"That accident was truly horrifying for her…" Cooper recalled. Among the clicking sounds from Zayne's desk, he knew that the doctor was still listening. "I couldn't believe anybody could make it through something like that. But she recovered. It was you who saved her life.”

Zayne came to a complete halt. He leaned back slightly and examined the neatly framed photograph. It had been on his desk for the past ten years, ever since he began his employment at the hospital.

"I just did my job." He responded. After that, the room went silent again.

Cooper mused. Nobody knew how Doctor Zayne saved the life of that woman, whom he dubbed Goddess since she was his Creator. He did not take her to Akso Hospital, but instead returned to her residence, which was equipped with advanced medical technology and facilities. The news that she had been saved became a miracle, and everyone appreciated Dr. Zayne's hands even more.

"Sometimes I miss her energy." Cooper said out, breaking the stillness. "When she found out you were helping me investigate a few cases, she was so excited and asked to join. Although, I must confess, she was quite skilled at messing up clues, and it was you who had to assist me sort it out. Haha!"

Cooper was irritated when he merely received a nod from Zayne. The doctor would spend hours talking about his Goddess, only when Cooper knew how to initiate the conversation. But now it seemed that whenever someone mentioned her, he said as little as possible. Was he also adopting her secluded lifestyle after the accident?

When it was too late, Detective Cooper had to bid his former partner goodbye. Before departing, he made it obvious that he wanted to see Zayne's Goddess again. But the doctor only gazed at him deeply, without a response.

Zayne drove home at dawn. As a cyborg, he did not require as much sleep as a human, yet severe sleep was at times necessary. Still, he had been unable to sleep peacefully since the event occurred. Every time he closed his eyes, the only thing he dreamed of was her body lying in a pool of blood.

He saved her. He must believe it. However, she was no longer the same person she had been before the accident.

The enormous gate opened after scanning Zayne's face. Their home was set on a snowy mountain, with thick layers of bulletproof glass surrounding it. Most of the building was constructed of stone and wood, giving people a sense of modernism and classicism. One side faced the mountain and woodlands, while the other faced the sea and Linkon City. There was also a jasmine garden where Zayne spent hours with The Goddess while she rested there.

He walked through the main entrance made of oak. Greeting him was a woman sleeping soundly on a comfortable sofa in the reading room. He softly raised his feet and crouched down next to her.

His rough, scarred hands lifted her hair, revealing a familiar, pretty face. It was the very first face he saw when he opened his eyes, although now it had been somewhat altered by the passage of time. His touch awakened her. She got up.

“Zayne?” She called, and he reached out a hand to take hers.

Zayne helped her sit up straight. Lately, she had been losing weight, her body was constantly cold and she did sleep a lot.

“Why don't you go into the bedroom?” He asked.

“I'm… sorry…” She murmured. “I was just a little tired and fell asleep without knowing…”

Zayne frowned. Even a simple expression like that made her shudder. She held his hand so tightly, apologized.

“I didn't mean it… I know you told me to always go to the bedroom to stay warm… But…”

"Hush." Zayne placed a finger on the corner of her mouth, keeping her mute. “Lately, you often don't do what I say anymore.”

Her body quivered slightly. Her hands clenched on the sofa underneath. She dared not say a word if Zayne forbade her so. He continued to scold her:

“You don't sleep in the proper place. You don't take enough medications. And you met someone you shouldn't have met."

She shook her head aggressively. She muttered: "N-No... that's not true..."

“Have I allowed you to speak?”

Zayne's expression was melancholy as he stared at her. He was kneeling on one knee on the floor, but his physique still dominated hers, and his powerful voice made her shiver even more.

"You already know your punishment for disobeying orders." Zayne spoke again. He reached out to wipe away the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. "There you go again. The Goddess does not cry."

Zayne instantly stood up. Still with that cold gaze, he looked down at her. With trembling hands, she reached to him and pleaded: 

"Please..." Don't…"

"What's the matter?" His stern voice reverberated throughout the room. "Don't you want to become The Goddess you once were?"

“I… want to… But… I'm scared… Please, Zayne…”

She begged, but to no avail. Zayne did not respond. He approached the door, while she stood up and stumbled behind him.

Many hours later, well past noon, Zayne carried her back to the bedroom. She was freezing and shivering still. Cold sweat erupted all over her body. Yet in that semi-conscious state, she remembered something significant.

She recalled dancing with Zayne, in a garden filled with jasmine blossoms. She was still young at the time, and he was only a little older than her. When did he become such a heartless cyborg toward her? Was it because she forgot who she was and that angered him?

Who was she? There were some faint recollections that surfaced. She was the heir to a technology empire. She was a properly trained hunter. She was a schoolteacher. She was a painter. She was a mechanic. She was a scientist... In all of those scenarios, she had always been a girl with a fragile heart.

And just like that, in all her dreams there was Zayne. Whoever he said she was, she was precisely that person. He intended her to become The Goddess, she would be The Goddess for him. She desired to be the person Zayne worshiped. The only person he held dearly.

But why did he treat her that way? He confined her in a freezing cellar. He injected her with hallucinogens. He left her half-dead. And he solely stopped when she was almost unable to tolerate it anymore.

She heard Zayne's footsteps entering the room. The edge of the bed declined as he sat next to her. His cool fingers brushed her hair again.

"Get some sleep. You will feel better when you wake up."

Was it true that she would ever feel better?

The dismal sky indicated an impending hurricane. She cried. But her tears were hidden into the thick cushion. At the moment, she recalled something else.

She waited for Zayne to depart, and as the door closed, she searched under her headrest and took out an old phone.

She could not clearly recall the origin of this phone, yet it recognized her face. She had found it in the old archive of the mansion, some time after the third time she endured Zayne's punishment. Perhaps since that day, she had planned to leave this place.

She rummaged through the pocket of her nightgown for a business card. On it written a name: Detective Cooper.

Detective Cooper's investigation hit a dead end. The only clue he had turned out to be untrustworthy, due to her incoherent state.

He had traveled to that mansion to find The Goddess. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, only the bright smile and virgo he had seen in her were now lost.

She vaguely recalled their acquaintance; everything else was as blurred as the mist that covered the residence. He had anticipated her to provide more valuable clues to the case, but after the encounter, he had to reconsider his entire conclusion.

The first missing cases occurred five years ago. There had been twelve equivalent cases thus far. Despite the differences in their occupations, hometowns, and nationalities, the victims were all about the same age. They had identical physique shapes and even similar appearances. They all resembled a single individual. The Goddess.

For Detective Cooper, there was no such thing as a coincidence. His visit to Akso Hospital that day was mostly to determine Zayne's reaction. However, the doctor made no mention of the fact that the missing ladies all had something in common with the person he regarded most highly, which made Cooper suspicious. He came to see her knowing Zayne was not home at the time. With his instincts, he felt she was somehow tied to those disappearances. Perhaps she was the one being targeted after all.

There were still plenty of details that were left unclear. Cooper attempted to connect the dots, but was unable to discover any evidence to support his conclusion. That night, Detective Cooper was stressing out alone in his office when he received an anonymous phone call.

“Detective…” A familiar female voice rang out on the other end of the line. “Save me… Please save me…”

"You are—?…"

“Zayne! He's… gone insane… Please… get me out of here… I don't want to go back… I don't want to go back to that place… AAAARGH!”

A scream sounded out, followed by a sequence of noises, and then a beeping sound. Detective Cooper rushed out of the office at full speed, started the car and headed towards the mansion in the snowy mountains outside Linkon City.

The first time he woke up, Zayne was in the jasmine garden. Standing before him was a delicate face with a gentle smile.

“It is my honor to serve you, Master.”

He bowed to the lady. The sound of her laughter resonated around the lovely afternoon garden.

"There's no need to call me that."

She was considerably shorter than him, and he tended to lower himself so she would not have difficulties seeking his eyes. When she sat on the daybed, he would be on the floor by her feet. When she fell asleep, he would spend the entire night outside the chamber, guarding her dreams. She would sometimes lay her head on his lap and fall asleep after humming a few songs. Even though she disagreed with him calling her "master," he privately referred to her as his Goddess.

For his life was a gift granted by her. By using technology from the ASTRA corporation, she had created a cyborg, a perfect replica of the childhood friend whom she cherished so much. He possessed that person's appearance, intelligence, talent, and name.

“From now on, you are Zayne.” His Goddess said. “You shall continue his work and live his dreams."

The real Zayne had passed away a long time ago. After being unable to control his Evol, he chose to dissolve himself. Cyborg specialized in the medical field was originally a project of a lifetime that The Goddess and him had collaborated on.

Even though he was only a replacement, cyborg Zayne was delighted to stay with his Goddess. They lived together at a mountain mansion. Every day, she read books, sang, and danced in the garden of jasmine. She taught him everything she knew, evoking deep human emotions in him. He cared for and safeguarded her, while she granted him the grace to walk alongside her everywhere, to keep her company, and watch time impact her gradually while his physique stayed untouched.

His universe revolved around her. She gave him a reason to exist, which was to save lives.

That day, he should have accompanied her. Yet, the duty he was assigned since awakening obliged him to remain at Akso Hospital. He saved someone else's life, but he was unable to save hers.

Her lifeless, bloodied corpse lay on the surgery table. He had tried every method he knew, but her heart no longer beat.

His world crumbled from that day on.

Though, he still had a glimmer of hope. He took her protocore and memories. Her body was preserved by him in ice that never melted. He placed her on the daybed in the shelter, surrounded by a jasmine garden. It was where she often laid down to rest, her eyes always fixed on the metropolis in the distance.

Then, in the darkness, he began his hunt.

The woman with a similar figure was chosen by him from among the patients in the cardiology department at Akso Hospital. He implanted the core and memories of The Goddess into her body. He brainwashed her and through surgery, he transformed her into a version of the Goddess. However, the first experiment proved unsuccessful. She was quick to remember who she was and what he had done to her.

The second person, followed by the third... With each experiment, Zayne learned and improved. However, although the look was easy to replicate, the demeanor was not. Every time a girl said or did something that differed from his Goddess, he deemed her a failure. Then she was made into an ice sculpture in the garden, duplicating every moment of The Goddess he adored.

A sculpture depicting her seated and reading a book. The other portrayed her dancing. Another one featured her cooking meals... Across the garden placed eleven sculptures, all centered on the original essence, the true Goddess.

That night, the twelfth piece would join them.

Zayne raised the woman's chin in a delicate manner. A visage similar to that of a Goddess was staring at him. But he knew it was not her. She would not weep, she would not plead like that. She was quite resilient in taking on everything, including death. Even in the moment when Zayne failed to protect her, still she smiled and said, "You're here."

As for the person who was steadily frozen in that standing posture, she was weeping and begging him to release her. She used to be a scientist. How unfortunate; her brain was almost perfect for receiving all of the Goddess' memories, as well as the prior females' pasts; nevertheless, that was a side impact Zayne did not desire. However, this woman was not obedient at all. She in secret disposed of the medication he had given her and discovered an old but still functional phone in the archive. She intended to run away but Zayne intervened just in time.

"Quiet." He spoke in his usual calm tone, but it sent chills down the woman's spine, literally. Since her body was almost entirely frozen. Zayne added: "Smile. "My Goddess looked nothing like this."

It was always the same; they screamed, they cursed, they pleaded for life. How ugly! None of them were worthy of wearing the face of The Goddess! It was Zayne's hands that adjusted their faces before the freezing procedure was complete. As a result, they all transformed into beautiful ice sculptures at last.

He came closer, carefully extracting the Goddess' protoccore from the false woman's heart and ending her agony.

When Detective Cooper arrived, the mansion's gate was already open. He heard screams in the jasmine garden, followed by a sudden silence. He immediately took out his gun and moved towards it.

He discovered Zayne's collection of ice sculptures in the garden. Twelve sculptures representing varying looks of the same person were coated in a thin layer of ice that was nearly transparent, allowing the faces of those inside to be seen. Zayne was in the center of the place, kneeling close to the daybed. His hand was softly stroking the hand of the woman who was lying down.

"Do not come close." Zayne's words sounded like anguish. Detective Cooper aimed his gun at him and shot.

A layer of ice developed from the ground, forming a crystal fortress between them. Cooper's bullet ended up caught inside.

"Zayne!" Detective Cooper shouted. "Stop it! You will suffer the consequences for your crime!”

"Consequences?" There came an uncanny laugh from the shelter. Zayne gave Cooper a grieving look. "Having to live in a world without her is already a punishment."

Cooper proceeded one step further. The ice spread to his legs and knees before swiftly covering his hands.

"Zayne, what are you doing? This isn't you. This is not what you were made for!"

Zayne's gaze returned to the Goddess, filled with affection. Her face was so calm behind the thin covering of ice. He replied: 

"That's true. She created me to heal people. Yet, I hurt them.

Silence arrived. For a very long moment, there was only the sound of the wind howling.

"I knew you would find out the truth, Detective Cooper." Zayne cracked a smile at him from over the ice wall. "I just hope I have a little more time to create a perfect replica of her."

Cooper, with a portion of his body immobilized, had become a reluctant audience for Zayne's monologue.

"I've tried a variety of ways throughout the last five years. But I've never been successful. I can't replicate my Goddess. And now I know why."

Zayne leant forward slightly. His arm wrapped over her head, cradling her. He muttered:

“For, in this world, she is the only one. Thus even if I searched the entire earth, I wouldn't find her a second time. I have made my own judgment.”

“What are you going to do?” Detective Cooper said impatiently. He had called for reinforcements and they were on their way. This place would be surrounded in just a few short minutes. No one could escape, not even a sophisticated cyborg with the Evol of Ice. However, it appeared that Zayne had no intention of escaping. 

“I disappointed her…” His voice began to tremble. “I could not save her… I murdered others so that I could replace her…”

Therefore, Zayne, himself, was a failed experiment. Everything that failed would be discarded. A fragment of black ice erupted on his chest and penetrated his body.

"Zayne!" Detective Cooper called out. From where he stood, he could see ice sprouting from Zayne's back. It was a torture.

“I do not deserve to see her again in the afterlife, if there is such a place… But if my life must end here… Please let me die… beside her…”

Zayne's words and breathing became stagnant. Detective Cooper attempted to escape, but he discovered that he could only move once the ice Zayne had summoned melted away, just as life was leaving his body.

Zayne shed a tear toward The Goddess as he placed his head close to her. His hand clenched on hers. He whispered one last time before he, himself, sank into the never-ending ice:

“Let me… die… by your side…”

[elysianightsss]

Limerence | One

C H A P T E R O N E

limerence / lim-ê-rêns / (noun)

“Obsessive romantic attraction towards another person”

Summary: In which the owners of Jujutsu Incorporated, the Ôgami brothers, are suddenly interested in you.

Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x reader, Alpha!Itadori x reader, Alpha!Gojo x reader, Alpha!Geto x reader, Alpha!Nanami x reader, Alpha!Kenjaku x reader

Status: Ongoing.

Genre: werewolf au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics.

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, insecurities, some descriptions of reader’s body, mention of possible ED, omegaspace, domdrop, swearing, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, Alpha tendencies.

Chapter warnings: self hatred, insecurities, mentions of insomnia, anxiety, depressive thoughts, Sukuna being a little shit, reader being sick, anxiety medication.

Masterlist | Teaser 1 | Chapter 2

Taglist: @better-imagination-9 @tiredjuniper @jjkz @honeybeeboobaa @cherryblossomdelusion @dependsonthedream

Taglist is open.

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Happiness is a fickle creature. A constant companion to some, hides herself entirely from others. She’s been an elusive creature to you. You don’t particularly remember the last time happiness had visited you, it had been so long since she’d hidden herself away, you barely remember what she looks like.

Nevertheless you feel yourself still seeking her out, even if you’re wholly against putting yourself into situations that are good for you. Why would you when you don’t deserve for her to find you. Maybe she never will and maybe that’s all you’re worthy of.

The distress and utter despair you always feel are now numbing agents to you. It feels like a heavy weight on your shoulders weighing you down so intensely but you should be used to it by now. It’s been years. You’ll be celebrating the ten year anniversary soon.

Ten years since you had parents. Over ten years since the world went to shit. Years of being thrown around the foster system, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere, never feeling wanted. The people who took you in just wanted the money that came with you.

You tried your hardest despite being moved around constantly and being part of shitty families, to study your best. To get good grades and have good attendance. You could say you threw yourself into your school work so one day you’d be smart enough to leave wherever you were.

The bullies certainly liked to choose you as their target, and despite some teacher’s best interests, the bullies always got to you.

Even when you graduated and went to university, you were still bullied, though again you worked hard and kept to yourself.

You graduated university and got the first job that was offered to you, an assistant editor at the best publishing company there was; Panda. Your job kept you busy and allowed you to not only support the publisher but also the commissioning editor with development and delivery of a manuscript.

You also worked closely with authors and editors, supporting the editor with admin help and coordinating with other departments such as sales and production. With reading all the manuscripts, it allowed you to fall into the worlds authors had made. It let you take your mind off of the reality you faced.

So wrapped in your self loathing and hatred you almost missed the alarm telling you to ‘wake up’ though you’d been awake for hours. Insomnia really is a bitch. You were slow getting up and ready, but your early alarm prepared for that. The kitchen floor was freezing against your feet, you practically ran to get your glass of water and anxiety medication.

Taking your time you grabbed your outfit for the day, a black Solid Cable Knit Sweater Vest With a white Blouse underneath, and black slacks to match. Removing your house slippers, you pulled on your ankle socks and slipped your feet into a pair of black loafers. A little gold chain across the tops of the shoes, easily matching the gold chain bracelet you wore.

Not bothering with a jacket, you simply grabbed your bag and the manuscript you finished before leaving your little apartment.

On your walk to work you passed cute bakery’s with mouth watering smells emanating from them. If only you had the time and money to get a sweet baked good, they all looked so delicious.

A frown slipped onto your face as you approached Jujusu Incorporated Headquarters, the tallest building in the city, the biggest being The Jujutsu incorporated training compound. The Ôgami brothers really have done so much for, not only the country but also the world.

Too bad they weren’t around when all this werewolf mess started. It would have stopped your tragedy. You stared up at the massive sky scraper, no expression on your face, it stayed that way even after you walked away.

In said building, Sukuna relaxed back into the black swivel chair, his body tired and in desperate need of rest. He was reaching close to his limit, he would soon pass out from exhaustion he knew that much. Being more than a little irritable and moody, it was like Christmas Day when his easy to wind up brother walked into Kento’s office.

“Saw you on tv pisshead, you have fun?” Sukuna taunts his older brother with a dirty grin plastered on his face, one of his sharp eyebrows arched. Satoru sighs glancing at the face Sukuna was making, it grated on him, causing an itch to settle in his nerves. Gritting his teeth to do his best not to show the younger that he was affected.

“It was riveting.” Satoru spat running a hand through his white hair as he walked further into the big office, “Don’t be jealous Sukuna. I know you don’t like the spotlight but I love it. I’d appreciate you putting aside the competitive little narcissist that rages within you and letting me savour it.” Satoru had a grin of his own now, knowing he hit a nerve too.

Sukana growled deep within his chest, the noise causing Satoru to challenge him with a growl of his own. “Enough brothers.” Kento scoffs at the display of childish behaviour, “Satoru, the public is pleased with our imagine because of you. You should be proud of your achievements.”

“Thank you Kento.” Satoru nodded his head toward the pack Alpha, the sides of his lips curving up in the tiniest of smiles.

“Kiss ass.” Sukuna scoffed with a roll of his sharp red eyes. Kento shot him a small glare, being pack Alpha had its perks. Each of his brothers had to obey him, nothing to do with being the eldest to. Kento was simply born pack Alpha, his personality traits were that of a pack Alpha and his scent reeked of his leadership.

“Let’s wait for the rest of the pack before we start with the kiss ass comments, Yuji isn’t even here yet.” Satoru joked, a smirk playing on his lips causing his brothers to smirk in turn. Almost as if he knew, Yuji, Kenjaku and Suguru walked through the large double doors.

Kento pulled off his armless glasses dropping them on the desk, “So now that we’re all here, we can begin our weekly meeting.”

“Saw you on tv-“

“Shut up Kenjaku.” Kento cut Kenjaku off.

“Already said it.” Sukuna laughed his head thrown back at the similarity between his brother and him. You’d think that Sukuna and Yuji, and Suguru and Kenjaku would be the most similar due to being sets of twins however they could not be less alike.

“Let’s just get started so we can get on with our days yes?” It was rhetorical, “great.” Kento answered himself, joining his brothers as they all took their seats at the table. He went over, press statements about the company. New Alphas that are one route to be transferred. Alphas that are graduating their training. And an upcoming interview at Panda.

“Don’t they publish books?” Suguru questions looking down at the list of things Kento was reading out.

“They’re branching out, wanting to get involved with the news and since the owner of the company is a close friend of mine, I’ve agreed for one of us to do an interview.” At this Satoru looked up his bright blue eyes harshened by a frown.

“One of us? But that’s my job.” He squeezed his hands together.

“Yes but you’ve spent the past two months travelling for publicity and away from your pack as well as your home. You will be resting for two weeks, remember strain on yourself…”

“Puts strain on the pack.” The entire pack spoke the last sentence, all of them nodding in agreement.

“Fine then who’s it going to be?”

-

You’d arrived to work on time and after fifteen minutes of being there, you wished you’d called in sick. The whole building was going crazy, people running from one place to another. You felt severely overwhelmed and overstimulated, it was taking a second for your brain to comprehend everything. Usually work was slow, a few meetings that were a slightly faster pace, but all in all work was slow.

This right now was crazy. That was the only word you could use for it. Then it got worse.

“I need you to do an interview.” Mr. Panda, your boss, didn’t ask but demanded. You knew you didn’t really have much say but a small part of you wanted to argue against it, that wasn’t your job. You nodded anyway taking the list of questions he had handed you.

You watched him walk away with a sick feeling clawing its way up your throat, it burned and tasted of chemicals. Maybe you should’ve had breakfast this morning before you took your meds. Anxiety swirls around your head and in turn has your stomach flipping, your feet are moving and before you can process you’re over the toilet dry heaving.

A tiny bit of sick comes out, your face scrunches up with the horrible taste. You pant hard as you come to terms with what’s happened, your body shaking while you try to calm your mind. Tears threaten to spill onto your cheeks, you try to control your shuddering breath. Picking yourself up and dusting yourself off, you flush the toilet and head to the sink to wash your hands and mouth out.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you notice how dark the bags are under your eyes, how small and frail you look, how lifeless your eyes look. You are the perfect representation of how dead you feel inside.

As if your brain picked the most unimportant thing to worry about instead of being critical of yourself, you realised you didn’t have the interview questions with you anymore. Sighing you left the bathroom and went back to the main office area.

You spot them on the floor, thank goodness they’re still there, you think as you make your way over to them only for someone to grab them first. Irritation settles in your bones, you huff annoyed before looking up at the thief who stole your interview questions, more like the thief who took your breath away.

Your heartbeat was pounding in your chest, so loud that was all you could hear. Your cheeks were tinted pink and you felt flustered the longer the man in front of you stared down at you with his piercing red eyes. His lips were slightly parted, pink hair messy and he. was. big. You felt so tiny with the way he towered over you, your omega for the first time in ten years let you know of her existence with a deep purr.

It had his wolf purring too. Sukuna prided himself on control. Control over his body, mind and wolf. Yet one simple look at you and he felt his control slipping out of his possession. His wolf snarled inside him, the usually peaceful barrier between the beast and man already breaking. His wolf desperate to get out, mark you as his. Claim you.

“Ah I see you two have already met.” Mr.Panda comes over with a smile, “It’s good to see you Sukuna. This is the woman who’s going to interview you.”

Sukuna hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for a second even when you looked at your boss while he spoke. Mr.Panda introduced you to each other, hearing your name, Sukuna did everything in his power to stop his eyes from rolling back into his skull, instead the rubies moved down your body.

You were truly beautiful, his wolf wanting nothing more but to sink his teeth into your delicious thighs. Your luscious, sweet chocolate scent made him want to devour you mind, body, and soul. He knew immediately, by your scent that you were his mate.

The interview was intense, he never looked away from you. He was always studying something, your eyes, your thighs, your figure, everything. It made you squirm in your seat, it had you uncomfortable and self conscious yet you felt adored at the same time. It was a confusing new feeling to you, it made you wonder where it had come from.

You stumbled over every question, your hands shook as you wrote down his answers. You weren’t scared just so incredibly nervous, no one had ever made you feel this way before. Sukuna asked you if you had anymore questions, all you longed to ask was if his heart was beating as fast as yours but you were too afraid to hear the answer.

“N-No I don’t,” You stuttered, “that was the last one.” You looked relieved but he looked disappointed. Quickly you stood, bowed to him and rushed out of the room, you were basically jogging to get back to your office when you felt a strong hand on your shoulder spin you around, he pulled you in close, you began to tremble all over. You felt his warm breath against your lips, red eyes staring at yours intensely.

“T-This is highly inappropriate.” You tried to look anywhere but his beautiful eyes as he spoke.

“Maybe for regular people.” He nodded in agreement, then his voice took on a deeper octave, “But certainly not for my mate.”

[rufescentmoon]

PearlescentMoon, here! 🌑

🌕 I'm lithoobsessioromantic and bellussexual, as well as genderapathetic, plus a beginner pagan witch. Call me whatever pronouns you'd like. I go by Pearl or Scarlet :] 🌖 I have Limerence + OLD (Obsessive Love Disorder) and BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). I also suffer from mild short-term memory loss, so if I repeatedly ask questions you've already told me the answer to to or accidentally send multiple asks of the same subject to your blog, please be patient with me! 🌗 As mentioned above, I have a delusional disorder, and I have a DA to Double Life PearlescentMoon. But doubles are just 'swell! Welcome, even :] I'm just one Pearl among a universe of many! I'd love to meet others out there! Shoot me an ask, aye? Mediamates of any kind are welcome! 🌘 I identify as a IRL + fictionkin and as an IRL yandere. Yes, I'm getting therapy, and I made this blog as a safe place to healthily handle my delusions and obsessive thoughts via fictional outlets as my fictotype with my F/O instead of potentially harming myself or others by indulging these urges in real life. My psychologist recommended this, and unless you have a doctorate in psychology, you don't have the right to claim this is "bad for me" or "unhealthy" when my actual medical professional disagrees, darlin'~! And, frankly, I'm gonna believe them over some uneducated idiot on the internet, anyway~ Basically, TLDR: Don't harass me. I'm coping healthily. This is psychologist-approved and, unless you took a doctoral program for five years and know me personally, you don't got grounds't to dispute that, do'ya, love? ;] Didn't think so~! 🌑 ^ Before you send anon hate based on my taste in fictional writing and my personal trauma, read this, 'cause I ain't repeating it more than once, mate. Also, my NSFW is @somethinwickedthiswaycums, if'ya want to check it out! MDNI, or at least, IWEC if you do.

DISCLAIMER.

✨🌙 Yes, I ship myself and C!Scott. Yes, I'm aware he's canonically gay, and he still is in my canon, I am not "sexuality bending" him nor am I comfortable with sexuality bending. I identified as woman in canon, but I don't identify as a woman anymore, and even if I did, I ship myself with him one-sidedly, anyway~! IDM sharing/other people with the same F/O under most circumstances, especially friends, so other Scott self-shippers, feel FTI unless I say explicitly state otherwise! :3

[odiepellarie]

What it's like inside my brain #8 [featuring my AD(H)D goldfish and my autism blob]

|← ← previous "CRUSH" → next

[technoturian]

DANG it Maximus. He keeps getting chances to make the right choice and just. keeps. digging. deeper.

I'm finding it equally as compelling as I do frustrating.

[xxangeldustanalogx]

i think my life's goal at this point is to create a piece of art/writing/whatever im creating that becomes an infamously NSFL cursed piece of internet shock content only spoken about in dead subbreddits and even then people refuse to share the link to it when asked and they just tell people not to look (like when people are trying to make DPH sound too bad to be worthwhile)

but if they do actually find it and see/read/watch whatever it is, it will be *disturbingly* emotionally resonant and become the topic of many deeply esoteric therapy sessions and probably inspire some new kinks and hopefully at least one clinical paraphilia

[serorat]

I am glad to announce that me and a group of other people are currently working on a Life Series AU known as Limerence! We have a lot planned, welcome to the beginning.

[buryhny]

here's this month's top 10 best Jungkook fan fics, [ for Jan ]

.☘︎ ݁˖ make you mine by @mercurygguk

friends to lovers ; college au ! slow burn | 37k wc

.☘︎ ݁˖ meraki by @taegularities

enemies to lovers ; grumpy x sunshine | 26k wc

.☘︎ ݁˖ limerence by @kooktrash

exes to lovers | 18k

.☘︎ ݁˖ not in that way by @girlygguk

childhood f2l's | 30k wc

.☘︎ ݁˖ i don't mind by @bratkook

strangers to lovers ; band au | 66k

.☘︎ ݁˖ bewitching by @taaegularities

fwb ; vampire au | 10k wc

.☘︎ ݁˖ between takes by @jeonstudios

pornstar au | series [ the best fic everrr! ]

.☘︎ ݁˖ coquet by @shina913

fake boyfriend ; escort au | series

.☘︎ ݁˖ one night stand by @buryhny [ me!! ]

enemies to lovers ; ceo au! | 150k wc

.☘︎ ݁˖ wait for your love by @spideyjimin

parents au ; firefighter! | 17k wc

like my recommendations? check my monthly reading list.

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ climax 2.0 ] | sylus

— summary: he takes you to a safe house. reasoned it was the safest option while his men tied up whatever loose ends remained from your mission. you get the feeling there’s more to his words than what floats at surface level. — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, profanity, sexual tension, minor character deaths, mentions of blood & violence, terms of endearment, self-deprecating thoughts, a sprinkle of romance, self-indulgent, unhinged moment, mdni — notes: special thanks to @alfredosaws for helping me write this. thank you so much for reading! — now playing: i follow rivers - lykke li

Silly woman. Getting your hopes up for nothing. Still...

He’s yet to set you down—Sylus. Your enigma of a boss, cradling you in his arms like an offering to be bestowed on an altar. Long fingers crooked under your knees, a possessive arm swept under your back.

You’re not hurt—he saw to that when he safely lured you to the ground with his Evol. So why does he insist on carrying you like you are?

You try not to get caught up in how he smells—petrichor during the spring. The leftover carbon of spent bullets. Suede and the freshly-broken skin of a clementine. 

How he feels—strong yet firm, honed from years of boxing and a past you know little of. Tender despite the violence he’s capable of. Big and comforting, like a blanket fresh out of the dryer on the coldest days of the season. 

How he breathes—even, as his heart thrums a steady tempo against your chest. Soothing like ocean waves rolling over your feet, lulling you into tranquility. 

Tch. Since when did you become so poetic?

You’ve long since traded the cacophony of bullets ricocheting off his Evol—of Nikolai’s men shouting obscenities, bleeding malice and vitriol as they spit orders—for the serenity of the night.

Passersby mill about on the moon-laden streets. Couples laugh, bundling together to ward off the night’s chill. An occasional drunkard stumbles down the sidewalk. Sylus effortlessly sidesteps them, refusing to let you walk on your own despite the perturbed looks he garners. You try not to dig too deep into things. And yet…

He’s carried you like this for at least a mile through the city’s heart. Past historic buildings jaded by time, under twinkling string lights, hung over shopping centers and outdoor cafes bordering the street. 

It’s something of a dream. Something like a romantic film, but you don’t feel like you deserve to be its star.

He’s made no move to set you down. You’ve also made no effort to untwine your arms from around his neck. Instead, you study the flexing tendons in his throat. The bob of his Adam’s apple when he chuckles something murky and guttural after he catches you staring. You look away with bashfulness creeping beneath your skin, only to repeat the ritual all over again. 

It feels like old times—a memory far off when he carried you like this once before after you led him on a hunt through the docks. After you took down one of the most prominent human trafficking rings in the underworld, and after he thought he would lose you forever. 

You’re sure you were heavy then—he spent most of the night searching for you, reducing anyone who got in his way to ash and bone. He was exhausted, violet bags hanging beneath his eyes, blood speckling his collar. Yet he still held you so tenderly. Walked you towards the horizon, clutching you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. 

You’re sure you’re heavy now.

And he shouldn’t be holding you like this. Despite how delightful it feels, a voice admonishes you from the deepest regions of your mind for getting too comfortable. 

He’s not yours. This isn’t right. 

She might be gone, swept up in the mountains playing escort, but you can’t help feeling like you’re betraying the hunter. You’ve already crossed her so many times in your mind before. 

You squirm a bit. His gaze slides to you. Scarlet eyes gleam beneath the tawny lights like multifaceted rubies. His brows lift slightly, and the beginnings of a smile prod his lips. 

You clear the phlegm from your throat, tamping down the hot flush rising from your chest to stain your neck and cheeks. He’s effortlessly beautiful, like something spawned from a Rembrandt painting. 

“You can put me down now,” you urge, your voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.”

He looks forward, wearing a full-bodied smile. “I know.” He continues walking like you didn’t speak, making no effort to let you go. 

You give him a deadpan look. Try again, a little more insistent this time. “Sylus.”

“Yes?” he returns, humored, patient. 

“I said you can put me down.”

“I know.”

You sigh, exasperated after a few moments spent glaring at his side profile. His devastatingly attractive profile. That sloped nose. Those heart-shaped lips. Those pretty, grey-fringed lashes. 

“Aren’t you afraid of someone seeing us like this?” You gesture to your conjoined bodies with a nod. “People might get the wrong idea.” 

You might get the wrong idea.

He huffs a laugh like you’ve said the most absurd thing. “When have I ever been concerned with how others perceive me?” Those softened eyes flick back to you, something cold prickling low in your belly at the weight they carry. At how his voice dips like he’s drawing you into a secret. “Since when have you?”

Your lips twitch. He poses a fair argument. You’ve never cared much about how people view you, save for Sylus and the twins. More recently, Ms. Hunter. 

Guilt twists in your throat. Burns like ash. “Sylus…”

“Am I making you uncomfortable? Because if I am, I’d be happy to set you down.” There’s a beguiled edge to his voice. A challenge. A plea. Almost like he wants you to say, ‘No.’

Surely, you’re being delusional.

Regardless, you blanch. And it’s comical how quickly you shake your head, eliciting a thick, low purl of laughter from your savior. Your argument dies in the back of your throat. The drape of your arms around his shoulders slackens. But you still don’t let go. You don’t want to let go. 

You decide she’ll have to be upset with you—Ms. Hunter. Decide to be a little selfish, but only for a little while. You’re growing too comfortable with the sharp click of his heels against the cobblestone. With how he lightly jostles you in his arms after each measured step. You could fall asleep like this, ushered to dreamland by the source of your fantasies and suffering. 

After some time spent wordless, Sylus slows to a stop. When you glance at him, he nods at something ahead, finally setting you down. You’re bereft of the warmth and safety his body provides as he helps steady you. Smoothing out your dress, you take in your new surroundings. 

A structure stretches before you, much like the ones you passed before, only the upkeep is better. Three stories of dark, historic brick and an awning dotted with sepia-toned lights loom overhead. The building's name scrolls on a marquee sign in its center, blaring through the frosty haze of the night. It reminds you of an old movie theater, repurposed for something more upscale. 

You turn quizzical eyes to Sylus. “A restaurant?” Come to think of it, you are a little famished. Murder always manages to stir your appetite. 

Sylus pushes back the tails of his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets. Exhales slow. The spotlights highlight his smile as he looks between you and the entrance. “Not hungry?”

“Yeah, but…it’s a little short notice, isn’t it? Don’t you normally need a reservation to get into places like this? Will they even let us in?”

With a huff caught in his throat, Sylus brushes past you, bounding up the few steps to tug the door open. A swell of noise spills outside, the soft stroke of piano keys, the clatter of cutlery against plates. The savory scent of cooked meat and sautéed vegetables assaults your senses. Your stomach growls. You pat it placatingly, casting Sylus a wary look.

“They should,” he says with a shrug, patiently waiting for you to enter. “I own the place.” His eyes shine with playfulness, posture lax.

You scoff. Of course. He owns half the city. It makes him more attractive, knowing he can buy anything at the drop of a hat. 

“Wow. That’s awfully Bruce Wayne of you, don’t you think?” you mock, stepping up into the restaurant, guided by your fingers wrapped around his forearm.

“Wait,” you start, inadvertently tucking into his side. “Why are you hungry? I’m the one who did all the heavy lifting.”

Sylus shrugs again, feigning innocence as you clear the restaurant's entryway. “Watching you work always makes me peckish.”

You whack his broad chest, rolling your eyes. Can’t help smiling. Giggling. Letting your defenses waver.

The air between you feels lighter, reminiscent of times spent carelessly flirting when the line between employer and subordinate blurred beyond recognition.

—

It’s lively inside, but not overwhelmingly so. 

Colorful conversation brightens the atmosphere around you. Patrons of new and old money, dressed in designer clothing, sip expensive wine. Prattle on about their reckless ventures, about fickle things you can’t be bothered to entertain. 

It’s a high-brow restaurant, with the gentle croon of live music and light fixtures dangling overhead to simulate candlelight. The interior is Art Deco inspired. Jaw-droppingly beautiful. You’ve found yourself eyeing the bar more than once, impressed by the expansive shelves housing vintage wine and spirits, stretching towards a yawning, stained-glass ceiling. 

Had you not known better, you would’ve thought you were on a date and not lying low while ornery men tore the city apart looking for you. But that’s not the case. 

At least, you don’t think it is. 

You bite down on your fork, bleeding warmth, ignoring the scarlet eyes boring into your face for the umpteenth time.

You’re tucked away in one of the restaurant's corners with your boss, seated at a booth, shying away from the spotlight. Away from the prying eyes of the other patrons, though that doesn’t stop the occasional gaze from wandering over you. Curious clients raise their wine glasses at you with tense smiles, scrutinizing the pair of you as if you’re celebrities. 

You do stand out, still donned in your attire from the banquet. And Sylus commands attention wherever he goes, standing a good foot over most of the populous, his hair a riotous shock of white. 

Also more perplexing is that he hasn’t booked the place out. He prefers solitude, the comfortable quiet. And yet, he’s brought you here, surrounded by people, treating you like something to be shown off, and you're lightheaded from the whiplash he’s giving you.

He’s been nothing short of a gentleman. Pulled your chair out for you, ordered on your behalf, ensnared you in idle conversation. Kept your champagne glass full when your waiter was out of earshot, even lauded you for another successful kill. It’s all so uncharacteristic of him, and you can’t help feeling like he’s building up to something big. 

It’s grown quiet between you since your meals arrived, and your thoughts have crept in, robbing you of any bliss you began to experience. 

You’ve caught your boss watching you several times. And he’s never appeared guilty, shamelessly peering into your eyes, smiling, slowly ticking away at your resolve. 

Your skin prickles with warmth as you push around the vegetables on your plate. The meal is lovely. Savory, but your appetite’s abandoned you. Something’s off. You’ve sensed it for the better part of the night. Sylus is being more attentive than usual, and it’s unsettling. 

What’s his angle? Have you offended him? Is he keeping an eye on you, afraid you’ll run away? Will tonight be the night he lays you off?

You decide to confront him, having had enough of this ambiguity. This farce he’s put up. You clear your throat, smoothing out the napkin on your lap. Set your fork down, gaze hesitantly sliding to him across the table as you attempt to make light of your situation.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

Sylus’ eyes crinkle with a quiet mirth. A soft youthfulness as he props his elbows on the table, twining his long fingers together. A grin blooms behind his fists. You hold your breath.

“Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are while you eat?”

You choke on your spittle. Violently pat your chest to dislodge it, reaching for your flute of champagne to wet your throat as tears form. Adorable isn’t something you’d use to describe yourself. And adorable isn’t something you’d ever imagine Sylus classifying you as, either.   

“Maybe you should lay off the champagne,” you cough, the burn in your esophagus subsiding. 

He isn’t much of a drinker, so you suspect he’s spewing nonsense because he’s tipsy. You set your glass down, snatching the bottle of bubbly from the table’s center. It’ll be safer on your side, out of reach, where your boss can’t use it as an excuse to utter more absurd things. 

Sylus’ brows knit, mock hurt descending onto his face. “What? Am I not allowed to compliment you?”

You cough again, bringing the bottle to your lips. Drink straight from the source, crisp liquid drizzling down the sides of your mouth. How ladylike.

Maybe you should stop drinking. You’re starting to hear things, your daydreams coming to fruition. This isn’t happening. Your boss isn’t pouting at you like a child, calling you cute, and making you feel things that should be buried beneath the Earth’s crust. He’s typically stingy with his compliments unless given to a specific person. So why suddenly aim them at you? 

The bubbly’s got your head a little fuzzy. That, coupled with the adrenaline slowly seeping into your veins, emboldens you to get to the heart of his strangeness. You decide to poke the proverbial bear. 

“What’s your problem?” you prod, setting the bottle down with a definitive thunk. You fix him with a look, one of tight lips and furrowed brows. 

Sylus chuckles, seemingly in disbelief at your brazenness. He’s fucking with you. He has to be. Maybe he’s trying to get a rise out of you, sensing how vulnerable you’ve felt throughout the night. How vulnerable you’ve been the past few months. 

“Whatever do you mean, sweetheart?”

You ignore how the term of endearment tingles in your skin. It feels more weighted than usual tonight. Everything’s heavier tonight. 

You sigh, looking at your lap with a forlorn smile. Toy with a loose thread on your napkin, steeling yourself for this unavoidable conversation.

The champagne’s got your tongue a little loose, and the people surrounding you give you a boost of courage—witnesses in case Sylus decides to kill you. 

“You’ve been really nice to me all night.” You sound mousy, contrasting the crass asshole you were moments ago. “It’s kind of…weird.”

A silver brow lifts. Sylus adjusts in his chair, leaning closer to hear you better, the faint note of his cologne wafting off his skin. Threatening to derail you. To change your mind.

“Have I not been kind to you before?” He momentarily scrutinizes the lacquered wood of the tabletop, seemingly lost in thought. Gazes back at you, inspecting your face.

You swallow against the sandy grit of your throat, powering past your nerves, an anxious titter on your tongue. You toy with your necklace, dizzy. “No. No, you have. Just…not like this.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Sylus wordlessly encourages you to continue, watching your mouth, your eyes.

“I mean, the gala. Rescuing me from Nikolai’s goons. Carrying me. Dinner. The compliments. I don’t get you, Sylus. One minute, you’re pushing me away. You’re ignoring me, and then the next, you’re…confusing the hell out of me.”

The words are out before you can contain them. Silence stretches between you, stiff like a bowstring drawn back. You can’t look at him now, feeling so small and stupid beneath the blistering weight of his stare. 

You’re disbelieving that he could be so kind. Romantic. Considerate, treating you like something closer than a subordinate. Like he doesn’t have someone else occupying his mind, and you’re wondering if he’s playing some twisted game with your emotions tonight, using you to fill the gap the hunter left while out saving the world. 

“Am I truly that difficult to understand?” he replies, his voice gritty yet soft. 

Something pinches in your chest at the fragility of his tone. You want nothing more than for the world to open up and swallow you whole. 

You flinch when the flat sides of his nails graze your temple. He briefly stops before tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Then, his fingertips blister down your cheek. He tilts your head back, cupping your chin, coaxing you to look at him. And you do, reluctantly, a warm film of something wet washing over your sight. 

He studies you with a reverence you don’t deserve. A look you haven’t been subjected to in a very long time, yet it still manages to constrict your heart. Still makes your stomach jump like you’re descending downhill, and your lips part slightly, quivering. 

Time slows to a crawl around you, the world seemingly carving out a pocket of space for only the two of you to exist. The sights and sounds of the restaurant fade into obscurity. You’re focused solely on the scarlet wash of his eyes, how they shift back and forth, studying your features, searching. Seeking answers your mouth refuses to utter. 

“If I’ve made myself anything less than transparent, I apologize.” The sincerity there, the quiet vulnerability, it makes you sick because you’re undeserving of it. You feel like you’re taking part in a naughty secret. Witnessing a side of him usually reserved for the hunter. “But I assure you, I’m not as mysterious as you think.”

You snort despite the moment. Despite your pulse thudding in your eardrums, a trickle of optimism seeping through you like molten liquid. You don that arrogant, playful front as if rolling over and showing him your belly will be viewed as a sign of weakness. He could still very well be screwing with you. Getting your hopes up to shatter them like waves breaking against the rocks.

“Yeah, right. And I’m the Queen of England,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

Sylus shrugs, resigned. Still, he doesn’t relinquish your gaze, the soft curl of his fingers around your face. Instead, he grows more tender, his irises twinkling a youthful shade beneath the ambient lighting as he leans closer. His voice is wispy like he’s murmuring something confidential. 

“You don’t have to believe me. But I am no liar, sweetheart. You know that.”

With that, he releases your chin, fingers slowly dragging over your face, leaving a searing path in their wake. You breathe again, unaware you weren’t, as if released from a spell. You watch him take up his champagne flute, slender fingers curling around its stem, and he stirs its fizzy contents. 

You’re jealous of that damn glass, still feeling those ruinous digits burning themselves into your skin.

He decides to shift gears. You’re thankful because you need time to process things. To get your heart rate down from the sky. 

“Besides, you looked like you could use a break. I figured tonight would be a good time for some morale boosting.”

You snort again, sipping from your own flute to assuage a flare of anger. “Me? A break? Morale boost? Yeah, sure.” 

Taking a breather with your boss, playing around on a date like you didn’t just murder someone? Was he serious? And is that all this was? A figurative pizza party to say, ‘Thank you’ for being an obedient little pet? 

You knew you were an idiot, getting your hopes up for nothing. 

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m not as much of a slave driver as you think,” he says, parting the tumultuous sea of your thoughts.

“Really? Luke and Kieran might say otherwise.” There’s more vitriol in your voice than you intend to let out. But you’re deflecting, protecting yourself. 

Your chest tightens when Sylus looks down, idly twisting the glass stem between his fingers. His gaze softens, and something in his voice shifts. “Can’t I just spend some time alone with you? Show you how much I appreciate you for being loyal to me all these years?” 

You stiffen, feeling like someone’s thrust a knife into your gut and twisted it. You must not have heard him right. For a moment, he sounded exposed. Wounded. And for a moment, you feel bad for doubting his intentions. 

You’re about to pursue it when your waiter reappears. He’s all smiles and professionalism as he sets two martini glasses on your table, crystalline liquid swirling ominously inside.

You look up at him with quirked brows. He stands in good form, folding his hands together behind his back. 

“Courtesy of the couple over there,” says your waiter, gesturing over his shoulder with a nod. 

You peer behind him. A middle-aged man and a younger-looking woman dressed in eccentric textures smile and wave enthusiastically at you. You lift your glass to them in a quiet toast, pasting on a smile. The gesture is sweet, but what’s the occasion?

“They said, drinks for the lovely couple, and congratulations on celebrating your anniversary.”

You sputter, sending drops of your martini flying every which way. 

Sylus laughs at your plight, taking up a glass for himself and lifting it in appreciation towards the couple. You glare at him as he sips. 

“Happy Anniversary, darling,” Sylus teases. Winks for added effect. He laughs a wealthy man’s laugh while you choke. 

You contemplate correcting the generous couple, but the martini is delicious. And Sylus doesn’t seem affected by it. 

And maybe it feels good pretending that, just for a moment, he’s yours and yours alone.

—

Someone had a sweet tooth following dinner.

That someone, of course, being you. 

The dessert menu at the restaurant looked appetizing. But you had a craving for something cold. Soft-serve. Besides, you were growing uncomfortable the more that couple ordered you drinks. At one point, they’d been so bold as to stop by your table on their way out. 

They kept ogling you. Winking, laughing drunkenly, spewing out their hotel room number upstairs. When they left, you leaned over the table, cupping your hand around your mouth.

“I think they’re swingers,” you whispered to Sylus. 

He laughed, sitting back. Raised his glass to you, a brow tilting up to match the cant of his lips. “Wanna go find out?”

“Hell no! I’m a one-partner kinda gal.”

You didn’t miss how his gaze shifted. Darkened into something you couldn’t quite place. 

You find yourselves in a 1950s-inspired diner— a modest hole-in-the-wall joint with retro decor and bright lights. Only a couple of other diners inhabit the restaurant. You’re nursing a milkshake, courtesy of your boss, buzzing like a child who’s gotten everything they wanted. 

He teased you about your cravings—only you’d want ice cream when it’s cold out. But he didn’t put up much of a fight, humoring you after you wore him down with those puppy eyes and your fingers buried in his sleeves.

He entertained you further by playing the claw machine in the corner at your behest. Watching a man so big, feared, and elusive fiddle with such a garish machine—you felt honored.

You cheered him on, the sleeves of his jacket draped over your shoulders, puddling around your elbows. After several attempts, he was successful, sheepishly shoving a purple koala bear into your hands. Your face burned hot, and your cheeks ached from smiling and laughing. 

It feels like a dream. The ideal date. And for a moment, you forget that Sylus is your boss. That he could never be yours and that you’re anything but a killer. 

You fiddle with the jukebox, earning curious glances from the diner’s other customers. They’re whispering things, eyeing you warily. You ignore them, queuing up a song. And you’re dancing, silly at first, but muscle memory kicks in. Soon, you’re moving your hips, smoothing over the contours of your body, spurred by Sylus observing you from his place atop a stool. 

You wish he would smile more—an authentic smile, unhindered by sarcasm or smugness. He’s much more handsome like this. 

You think about all the times he’s smiled this way for the hunter, and you stumble in your steps. You flash him a smile when it looks like he’ll get up to help you. Carry on dancing, doing one of the things you do best.

You pretend you’re at Lux, and he makes you feel like you’re on a stage just for him, your nerves flaring at his attention. There’s a gleam in his eyes as he leans back on the countertop on his elbow, watching you with muted appreciation. How long has it been since you’ve danced for him?

So swept up by the music, you hardly register the diner slowly emptying. Not even the servers seem to be bustling about anymore. You get an ominous prickling sensation on the back of your neck, the fine hairs there standing stiff. You stop. 

You exchange a look with Sylus. He raises a brow, tapping his temple. “Keep going,” he rasps, doting, coaxing. Entranced.

He has whatever’s about to transpire under control. You trust him fully. The Bonnie to his Clyde. 

The wispy tendrils of his Evol materialize around the diner’s interior to form a barrier, tossing the restaurant into a misty haze of red and black. It’s reminiscent of hellfire, and you feel like Lilith taking part in a sacrilegious waltz. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, attentive as you continue to dance. And you smile, putting on a damn good show as Nikolai’s men funnel in, their cries of agony tempered by the music spilling from the jukebox and your laughter coloring the air as Sylus rends flesh from bone with his Evol. 

—

He takes you to a safe house as the night reaches its peak. 

He reasoned it was the safest option while his men tied up whatever loose ends remained from your mission. Like dining and holding hands out in public didn’t warrant an ambush. 

Someone snitched. Saw that familiar riot of white, those brawny shoulders. Heard that gritty voice mixed with your distinct laughter and sent Nikolai’s men to finish you off. Sylus picked them off while you danced unhindered, but there was no telling how many stragglers were left, ducking into the shadows, creeping along the historic brick walls. 

Again, he insists on carrying you as you break through the door of a quaint, quiet home perched on a hilltop. Secured by his biometrics. Bordered by evergreens and the calming symphony of the forest. Isolated, like him. Hidden from invasive questions, from prying eyes. 

You’re tired. The night’s adrenaline sloughed off, leaving you tenuous and agreeable, which is why you don’t put up much of a fight as Sylus walks you through the foyer, smiling down at you like you’re his precious bounty. It’s infectious. Your lips tug, too, though a little less enthused. You blink slowly. Breathe evenly, lulled by the mollifying thump of his heart against your cheek. 

He drops your stilettos on the hardwood floor halfway to the living room. Deposits you on a dark leather settee, fixing your dress over your legs and his jacket around your shoulders. Draws back. Your chest tightens. You don’t know what hits you when your fingers close around the pleated sleeve of his button-up, eyes beseeching when he looks at you from over his shoulder. 

You don’t say anything. Don’t have to.

Don’t leave. Stay.

You don’t want the dream to end. Not yet.

He chuckles low, all smooth like whisky poured into a glass. Softened, scarlet eyes pan in through the low light, his silhouette haloed by amber. He lifts your legs to settle onto the upholstery beside you. Pulls your feet onto his lap. They’re irritated. Rubbed raw from being strapped to too-tall heels all night, running and gunning like you had no limitations.

He sensed your discomfort. Always such a gentleman.

Large, sweltering hands close around your feet, kneading through pressure and knots of tension. Knuckles at the balls of your feet. You exhale slowly, pleased. Thankful. The attention’s nice. There’s a small voice wading through the murky sea of your mind, telling you this is wrong. That you don’t deserve it, his tenderness. 

You’re getting pretty fucking sick of your conscience. It’s just a foot rub. It’s not like you’re kissing him. 

“You’re good at this,” you note offhandedly. 

“My hands are more useful than you think.”

Something dark threads through his voice. Something cheeky. You ignore how your stomach flips, your mind sparkling with impure ideas. 

Drowsiness sweeps in around the corners, bordering your vision like a vignette. He’s masterful with his hands. You wouldn’t expect anything less from the king of the underworld. You doze off, shepherded through the inkiness by the faraway tick of a clock. By trees rustling beyond the massive window, the moon dragging itself to the center of the sky, cloth moving as Sylus rubs over your calves. 

You stir when he shifts. When he moves to get up and lay your legs on the couch. That feeling returns. That ache. The call of loneliness. Your sleepiness abandons you, making way for cold fright. You stumble from the settee. Rush to stand at full height, gripping his shirt at the crooks of his elbows, halting him.

Your mouth opens. Heart thundering. You don’t know what to say—what you were thinking. His gaze is unyielding, studying your face like the slow flicker of a flame. Silver brows knot. Peach lips fall slightly open. He’s waiting for something. Asking for something. 

You’re on autopilot when you cautiously angle yourself closer. Your gaze falls to his mouth, and he mirrors you, cradling your elbows as if he’s afraid to break you. You’ll blame it on the bubbly you consumed later. On the spell he somehow cast over the night, enthralling you with his chivalry. 

You tug, and he meets you halfway. Not like you have to put in much effort. He’s already leaning down. Eyes already half-moons, breath already shaky. 

He tenses when your lips meet. Shoulders drop once the initial shock peters, and then he’s kissing you with those full, molten lips. He draws you closer, hands splayed possessively at the small of your back. Thumbs cruising over the meat of your hips. Up and down your sides. Wherever he touches, you burn.

You exhale through your nose, and your arms snake around his neck. Fingers sift through the fine hairs at his nape.

He teases your mouth open with his tongue. Sighs something anguished when you grant him entry, licking into your mouth. Pulls you impossibly closer. He’s rigid and warm against you. Gathers your cheek in his palm, angling your head back. He kisses greedy. Selfish. Plunders your mouth, milking the sweetest little sounds from your body. Sounds you didn’t think yourself capable of making.

You kiss and kiss until your lips are chaffed. And even then, you don’t stop. He’s ravenous, moving against you like he’s waited eons to do this. Like he’s fought a war with himself and lost. You’re his Gettysburg. His Kryptonite.

You’ll feel sorry for yourself tomorrow. Blame it on the air, charged with something heady, your inhibitions and common sense thrown to the wolves.

It’s just a kiss. He’s your boss. And tonight, he’s been something of a friend. A dream. Friends kiss all the time, right?

So why do you feel so guilty?

— tags: @emneedshelp, @reiofsuns2001, @crazy-ink-artist, @vonev, @subliminalwish, @ikiru-wa, @inkonparchment, @regandoesthings, @szired, @alyyylog, @leekingsman, @beewilko, @an-ever-angry-bi, @abbylee0710, @sunnyf4lls, @himiko-omikami, @midiplier, @ari-shipping-stuff, @karespocketboyfriends, @glamouroki, @babygirl-panda19, @im-in-different-universe, @sillyfreakfanparty, @lunebulous, @vilehrs-blog (sorry if i missed anyone.)

climax | masterlist | falling action

[kykyonthemoon]

Limerence

(noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing.

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, obsession, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, necrophilia.

⋆˚✿˖° Howard is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Rafayel's ✦ Zayne's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖° My friend Cery made an art for this fic here: x

Chapter: The Sleeping Beauty — in which he paints this world blue for his Queen

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: ~3k

There was something about the lakeside cottage which scared Howard to the bone.

That area was formerly abandoned, dingy, damp, and home to numerous insects and reptiles. Few people ventured there except to hunt or fish. An ideal spot for Howard and his fellow children to hide and play when they did not wish to be found out by their parents.

Yet a few months ago, when a young couple bought the property and moved in, all of a sudden it was transformed into a paradise. A variety of peculiar flowers and plants bloomed, forming a meadow surrounding the cottage. The warm light emanated, and the aroma of tea and baked delights consistently made the kids drool. They were occasionally handed sweets by the new owner, and everyone of them was bribed in this manner, oblivious to the fact that their headquarters had just been taken from them.

Nevertheless, that was not what bothered Howard. That cottage made him anxious because, in addition to the abrupt change that he had yet to adjust to, he felt little sympathy for the new owners.

The brain of a ten-year-old child prevented him from generating an answer for this. He knew only one thing: there was an odd vibe beneath the new neighbors' tenderness, as if they were keeping some sort of secret that they wanted no one else to find out. His hunches were usually right.

“Here's your pie.” The husband said as he handed Howard's friend a hot, fragrant loaf of pie. “I'm sorry, kids, but you must find somewhere else to play. My wife is not well. She's in need of a quiet place to rest.”

All the children nodded, except Howard. He paid close attention to his neighbor. The man appeared youthful, clothed simply and comfortably. With his bright hair and blue eyes, he made people feel at ease and cozy. His beaming face appeared quite amiable, and the way he dealt with the children indicated that he was a trustworthy person. However, in fairy tales, witches frequently disguised themselves as nice people as well. And the person who took away these children's playground was clearly not a decent one, even though according to the law, they had every right to do so.

Howard's reluctance was not enough to stop him from returning to the lakeside cottage. He appreciated this location and the tranquility it offered. He went about nearby alone, inquisitive about the area and its new residents, but did not dare venture forward to alert them. On average, he would see the husband awake at about midday. He went into the forest to harvest fruits and hunt, and they occasionally ate the fish he caught in the lake. On the contrary, the wife was rarely seen. Howard sometimes caught her figure sitting at the window, staring out. He was unable to see her face properly, but he had the impression that she was really beautiful and gentle.

On pleasant, sunny days, the neighbor would maneuver his wife's wheelchair out into the heart of the blue flower field he had planted. He rested next to her on the ground, listening to the birds sing and told her about everything that had transpired here, including the children.

"Isn't this area quite calm? You enjoy it here a lot, don't you? I do too. Children come every now and then to bother us. But fret not; I told them to find another place to play. It appears that they are effortless to handle... Such adorable little ones."

The husband paused for a moment. He took a hold of her hand and caressed it. “Children could be a source of delight. Do you also wish we could have a child of our own in the future?”

There was no response from his wife, but he smiled as if he had heard her heart.

Aside from the two odd neighbors, Howard was intrigued and horrified by the flower meadows around their property. He had never seen such flowers blossom in this land before. They were an elegant blue tint, similar to forget-me-nots, but at night they emitted a soft glow under the moonlight. They eventually extended from all sides of the cottage to the woodland and the edge of the lake. They appeared pleasant at first sight, but Howard was alerted the moment he attempted to pick one.

“Don't touch them.” The neighbor said, now known to Howard as Xavier.

“Why is that?” The boy inquired promptly.

“…” Xavier gave not an instant answer. It seemed that he was finding words to explain it to a child. “It's best that you stay away from this place.”

Howard pouted. He did not like the feeling of being unwelcomed.

“Are these flowers poisonous?” asked Howard once more.

“These flowers are for healing… Don't damage them, kid.”

"Oh is that so." The youngster nodded. If the flowers were used for healthcare purposes, he would be more cautious around them. At the same time, he was intrigued about what diseases these flowers might cure.

The peaceful days continued to pass. After a few conversations, Howard realized that his neighbors were not as frightening as he had imagined. They were just a little odd. Xavier did not have any official employment; he simply stayed at home and relied on his hunting talents. He must have chosen to live this way since his ailing wife required particular care. Howard was tremendously curious about his wife, though. Especially after one afternoon when he happened to meet her by the window.

That day, Howard spent his time pursuing his family's mischievous cat. That cat was quite old and sick. Yet for some reason, she managed to find her way to the neighbor's cottage and slept soundly in the middle of the flower meadow. It was said that when a cat knew he or she was about to leave this world, he or she would flee to a place where the owners could not discover. But Howard prayed that day would not come soon enough.

He called the cat from afar, but the animal paid no heed. After a while, he entered the neighbors' private space.

The cat laid close to the couple's open bedroom window. Howard stared for a while, fearful of being caught and chastised. Not seeing Xavier's shadow anywhere, he felt secure in moving on.

Someone sat beside the window. Howard suspected it was the wife. She did not move even though he was certain that in her sitting position, she would have seen the boy approaching.  She simply remained there like a statue behind a thin curtain. Howard was hesitant and intrigued. He halted when he was only a few meters away from her.

“Erm… Hell, ma'am… M-May I bring my cat home?…”

He held his breath and waited, but she did not answer. Perhaps she was asleep. He saw her and Xavier by chance several times previously, and in those moments she also remained silent. Her condition must have caused her to be like this. He once had overheard grownups discussing how her entire body was immobilized and that she could not even talk at times.

Without seeing any reaction from the neighbor, Howard reached down and scooped up the cat. At that time, a powerful breeze blasted through the area, causing the curtains to lift. Howard looked up, but the dust in the air caused his eyes to squint. He could barely see a portion of the pallid face of the woman seated in the room. Her eyes were closed.

Then, blocking his view of the window was a familiar tall figure. It was Xavier. He flashed the child an expression of rage.

“Get that cat out of here. Now!”

It was the first time Howard had seen him angry. Although the neighbor remained cordial, the tone of his words dismayed the child. In an instant, he pictured witches consuming children in his head. But Xavier was much more terrifying than that. Howard instantly embraced the cat and fled out of their meadow.

For the following week, Howard refused to enter the area surrounding the neighbors' cottage anymore. He occasionally came across Xavier around town on his way home from school. The man had reverted to his regular state, even waving at Howard despite his intentional turn in another direction.

However, Howard's cat was fearless. She continued to stray off to Xavier's place frequently. One time, the youngster caught the animal on her way home in the early morning, in her mouth a blue flower that only blossomed in his neighbors' meadow.

“What are you doing?” Howard yelled at the cat. He removed the crushed flower and discovered a glittering blue tint in the animal's tongue.

The cat must have swallowed the neighbor's medical plants. Howard kept this a secret because who knew how enraged Xavier might be if he found out? Perhaps there was truly enchantment in those flowers. His family's elderly cat, who had been severely ill, suddenly became healthy again. She ran around and lived with them for a very long time, surprising everyone, but Howard kept his mouth shut.

That was presumably one of the neighbors' mysteries, which the child eventually came to respect. He stopped being inquisitive, but something about the cottage still made him shiver every time he passed by. Perhaps not because he still feared Xavier, but more because of his wife.

One brilliant sunny day, Howard happened to see her sitting alone in a flower meadow. She turned away from the child and appeared to be reading a book. Initially, Howard intended to just observe from afar. By coincidence, the book in her lap glided to the ground. Howard was concerned, unsure if he should come and help or just leave. He glanced about, but failed to locate Xavier anywhere. Perhaps he had gone into town or was hunting in the woods.

Howard went to help the neighbor. He thought about having his whole body paralyzed like that, it would truly be a curse. What would become of him when he could no longer dance and play? What would happen when he could only watch life pass in front of him while remaining motionless as a sculpture? He wondered if the neighbor could still feel the warm sunlight embracing her. What a pity! Pity for the husband who was at her side day by day, taking care of her. They were too young to have suffered such a tragedy.

When Howard approached her, he detected an unusual aroma. The scent was comparable to their flower field, but with a really nasty undertone. The stench made him think there was a dead animal lying somewhere. The youngster leaned down to take up the book. It was not an ordinary book, but it featured characters and illustrations that he could not comprehend. Yet another kind of language? Nevertheless, it was not appropriate to delve into other people's affairs, so he closed the book and returned it to the wife.

Only then did he get a close look at her. And it required all of his courage to stay on his feet.

Seated in the wheelchair was a person, or he did not know if she was still a human then. He still recognized her appearance; still seemed like what he had seen a few months earlier, but half of her face was lost. Howard saw half of the skull covered in pale skin, while the other half had rotted just completely. The white bones were utterly visible, from the cheeks to the chin. Howard claimed to have seen her collarbones exposed with no skin covering them, despite the fact that the majority of her body was clothed in heavy layers of clothing. She presumably lacked a heart inside all of that. 

She was a dried skeleton draped in decaying human skin.

Cold sweat streamed down Howard's spine. He trembled and placed the book in her lap, where her decomposing hands were nicely positioned. Before he could shout, he heard the rustle of trodden leaves behind him. Bewildered, he whirled around to see Xavier emerge from the forest, wielding a sword.

It was unimportant if he had been apprehended yet. Howard sprinted all the way home with all the strength left in him. His fever reached forty degrees celsius, and from that day on, he vowed never to return to that wooden cottage by the lake again.

“My dear,” Xavier's warm voice like the sun filled the room, which included a bathtub full of flowers in the center. He lifted his loving wife from her wheelchair and tenderly dipped her into the bathtub. The cool blue water enveloped her entire body. He put in a few other necessary details before kneeling alongside her.

“Today is our five hundredth day on this planet.” Xavier used his hand to catch the magical water and let it fall through his fingers, touching his beloved wife. “Do you like this place?”

The wife was silent as she always was. Her eyes closed, allowing Xavier to soak her hair and face. Half of her face had decayed, revealing bones and teeth. But it was of no significance; as soon as this ritual was over, she would revert to her original beauty.

"That neighbor kid saw you." Xavier's voice rang evenly. "He raced away. But do not be sad. "To me, you are always the most beautiful person."

Xavier picked up a flower from the water and set it in her hair. Nothing in this universe could compare to her. Even if her physique had changed. Even if she was only a withering skeleton.

"I always love the way you look, no matter what."

Xavier's hand continued to repeat the ritual of taking water and pouring it all over her body. Moments afterward, a new layer of skin began to develop around the decaying remnants.

"Worry not that others would discover our secret. That child wouldn't open his mouth. Even if he does, I have a way to silence him. Nobody will believe him. All of this was due to my carelessness. I left you alone out there."

The rustling sound rang out again as Xavier bathed his wife. From head down to neck, body and arms and legs. Her body was gradually restoring under the effect of the magic water.

“I apologize to you, my Queen. From now on I will never let you be alone."

He kissed her forehead. The water was as blue as the flowers outside their cottage, covering her exposed body. He planted them for her. As long as they grew, she would not perish. They would be together forever. Nothing could separate them anymore, not even death.

Xavier, the Crown Prince of Planet Philo, was to wed the girl he loved. Yet fate tore them apart, as she endured a terrible disease and did not survive much longer.

“Wait for me. I will go find a cure for you. When I return, we shall hold the wedding immediately.”

Xavier whispered beside her sick bed before departing. He and his fleet had discovered traces of a legendary flower, said to have the ability to cure all diseases. He traveled light years to find it and returned, only to find her lying cold in a coffin.

It was supposed to be their wedding day, but when he came back, a funeral was all that greeted him.

Her family members told him that she could not wait for him, and all she wanted for him was to forget about her and move on. But, how could he? He had no desire to go through a single day without her.

He refused to accept her demise, grasping the flower in his palm, he stole her coffin.

They traveled to another world where no one knew or could track them. He performed the wedding ceremony for only the two of them. Then he planted the miraculous flower he had found and utilized it to nurture her. It failed to bring the dead back to life, but it did keep her body from withering. As long as the magic from these flowers lasted, she would forever be young and beautiful.

They would live, happily ever after as in a fairy tale. She was his Queen. For her and only her, he could paint this whole planet into a blue meadow.

“Stay with me… Please…” He begged. His tears combined with the poison created from blue flower petals that he poured over her body. He held and kissed her eyes, lips, then fingers, and hands. He wished to feel her warmth again.

Yet that warmth had been lost, along with her soul. What Xavier could hold on to was only her body, which no longer felt anything, including his love.

Many moons later, the woodland transformed into a fascinating forest of blue flowers. Everyone was drawn to its beauty, yet only those who had witnessed the horrors concealed deep inside the forest held its tale in high regard. The tale of Sleeping Beauty and her Prince.

Howard, now an elderly man, had returned to his hometown after spending several decades far away. He could still recall the path back to the wooden cottage by the lake. In fact, the blue blossoms led him back.

Perhaps, his neighbors no longer lived there. Possibly it was his old eyes that were deceiving him. Howard saw that nearby the cottage was the silhouette of a familiar woman still, the most beautiful flower in that meadow; she was sitting and reading a book. And, always at her side as a shadow, that young man with the same features as in his childhood memories placed a hand on her shoulder. He gently turned his head, glanced at Howard, and smiled.

[elysianightsss]

Limerence | Eight

C H A P T E R E I G H T

limerence / lim-ê-rêns / (noun)

“Obsessive romantic attraction towards another person”

Summary: In which the owners of Jujutsu Incorporated, the Ôgami brothers, are suddenly interested in you.

Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x reader, Alpha!Itadori x reader, Alpha!Gojo x reader, Alpha!Geto x reader, Alpha!Nanami x reader, Alpha!Kenjaku x reader

Status: Ongoing.

Genre: werewolf au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics.

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, insecurities, some descriptions of reader’s body, mention of possible ED, omegaspace, domdrop, swearing, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, Alpha tendencies.

Chapter Warnings: smut ahead, reader goes into sporadic heat, Kento being the top alpha, knotting, alpha/omega dynamics, feral omega, mentions of bruises, mentions of anxiety.

Masterlist | Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Taglist: @better-imagination-9 @tiredjuniper @jjkz @honeybeeboobaa @cherryblossomdelusion @dependsonthedream @alluresenses @qardasngan @imcamboaf @ondragonhonour @misscaller06 @itsberrydreemurstuff @queen-luna-007 @elleflying07 @xxemmarldxx @thepeachesclub @heartless-tate @victoria1676 @dremerys @openup-yourmind @topmeyelena @your-favourite-god @neptunieesworld @canary58143 @lucilles-witchery @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant

Taglist is open.

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It burned. Like pure lava running through your veins, like poison was consuming you with every breath you took. You felt heavy, no matter how much you wanted to writhe and wriggle in pain you physically couldn’t move your limbs.

Weighed down under the pressure. Pressure of anxiety, pressure of the pain, pressure of your dormant omega pushing you to mate. Pushing you to let her take over. You fight her hard, not wanting to give in while you cry on Kenjaku’s bed.

But all too soon it becomes too much, and the soothingly soft voice whispering to let go is the only comfort you have right now. Your alphas. Yes, your alphas were all standing around watching you. Doing nothing. Nothing.

Let go, it will feel so good. The voice echos in your mind. Your voice, but sultry and sickly sweet. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel yourself slipping away into the back of your mind, a hungry feral omega slipping into place.

Kento had only ever read about it, never seen it in person. His eyes widened as yours began to glow golden, hands grabbing and pulling at the clothes on your body. Claws beginning to grow and tear at the soft cotton that Kenjaku had only dressed you in less than five minutes ago.

Speaking of, his willpower was hedging with every moment that slowly passed by. The way his half mast cerulean eyes raked over you, a prize to be earned. The smell of you was intoxicating, your scent wrapped in a heady heat, the sweetest decadence.

“How sad,” you cooed, your voice different. Deeper and sultry, a wickedly sweet voice rising in your throat, you didn’t even know you could sound like this, “My big strong Alphas not even touching their omega.”

A smirk plastered on your face when you hear the gut wrenching growls that erupted in room. The air around you freezing compared to the gut wrenching fever burning you from the inside out.

You’re consumed by their scent, it’s almost enough to stop the inferno rising in your throat. It’s currently sating the thin layer of hot sweat that’s trying to take place on your body.

“Pathetic.” Your upper lip curls with a snarl of your own, a certifiable giggle pushing itself out. You’re too deep to care if you look crazy, your mind swirling with all the possibilities of what your alphas could do to you. They curl around you making you feel all fuzzy.

“Okay we need to decide who stays with her. The rest of us are gonna have to leave.” Sukuna spoke up, saying the obvious.

“Leave the room?” Yuji asks with malcontent clear in his longing tone.

“Leave the house. She’s not in a state to handle all of us. Her omega has taken over and if we all tried to mate with her right now she could distress. So it’s gotta be one of us.” Sukuna spoke fast and efficiently. He wanted to be the one to stay, they all did.

“Rock paper scissors?” Suguru asked, and honestly the rest of the pack couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“No. I’m pack alpha. It needs to be me.” The five brothers all nodded, agreeing but disappointed nonetheless. Each of the brothers slowly left the room, Kento listened for the front door and not long after it slammed shut.

His eyes were honed in on you, god you were such a pretty thing. Makes him almost surprised his brother left so easily but they couldn’t argue with their pack alpha even if they tried.

Sweat trickles down your forehead, strands of hair sticking to your hot skin. For a fleeting second you falter at the images flashing behind your eyes, a twist of lime and ginger injected into your scent that has the Alpha outside your nest inhaling deeply, his own eyes glowing golden as his wolf claws its way to the surface.

He pushed his wolf away hoping to hold onto the last few threads of control, you hadn’t met his Alpha yet and right now is a very bad time for the meet and greet to take place.

“You just gonna stand there.” You huff, an almost drunk feeling pumps through your viens, it has you whimpering, deliriousness intent on consuming you.

“Omega.” You find your resolve weakening at the cavernous growl from the now agitated werewolf hovering over you. The confidence filled chuckle is harsh and belittling as his Alpha presents. His eyes glowing so bright you thought they might blind you.

Then you’re against his body in a tight hold that made it very clear, you weren’t going anywhere. Kento’s nose wrinkles when it presses against your scent gland, the smell he caught a glimpse of earlier was back and strong this time. Lime and ginger, a hint of vanilla in there too.

Heat claws it’s way up your body, from your toes to your legs to your torso until your eyes glaze over and all you want is him. All you need is his cock inside your spasming walls until you’re so high on bliss it’s impossible to talk back.

Your Alpha’s darkening gaze watches the change in you as he towers over your very needy form. His mind reeling with thoughts of you taking every thick inch of him until the pleasure wracking through your body is so intense you can’t even form a coherent thought.

“Oh I’m gonna take care of you pretty omega.” Kento grins, pulled off every stitch that covered him.

“Alpha.” It was breathless and god it tempted him in a way you could never imagine, coming up with a thousand different ways to ruin you. Kento more beast than man, ripped each item of clothing off of you feeling jealous that they were touching you and he wasn’t.

His chest puffed out in pride as his eyes slid across over your figure, pupils zeroing in on the shudder in your breath. He manhandled you so easily into the position he wanted you in. Your face pressed against the soft sheets of the bed as your ass was raised in the air.

A low and soft, oh falling from his lips. One could mistake it for a groan and you whimpered feeling it. Because fuck did you feel it, the werewolf now on his knees behind you watching your slick trickle down your thigh quick to lick it up not letting any go to waste.

It’s as if that one drop transformed him to a starving man who had a three course meal laid out in front of him and oh fuck yes,your eyes rolled back, sinful moans echoing in the room.

He moved his tongue like he was possessed, licking into your clenching hole as if he was digging for something before closing his lips around your clit and sucking it so hard you swear it will be bruised tomorrow. His harsh and continuous actions on your cunt had your fists clenched around the sheets, your back arching as you started a slow grind on his tongue.

“Your scent, fuck, you’re so intoxicating. I can never get enough.” He hums into your weeping entrance, but you’re so focused on the feeling of euphoria coursing through your veins you don’t hear him, all your senses being taken over and before you know it you’re on your back, darkening brown piercing your soul the longer he stared into your eyes.

A dark possessiveness shadows his face, something you’d never seen before on anyone. It frightens you, sours your scent just a little but your body doesn’t care. Your cunt producing more slick, pushing out the pheromones that made Kento’s knot start to swell.

You jut your hips out, bucking them with desperation. Kento’s blonde hair falls forward, his tanned skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. With one roll of his hips he’s inside you and not giving you a second to comprehend it. No he’s already pulling back and slamming into you over and over again watching as you arch your body into his.

His large hand slides up over your throat to your mouth, two thick fingers slipping inside letting you moan and whine around them, saliva dribbling down your cheeks. Neither of you care so engrossed in the feeling of being fucked so thoroughly.

“I’m gunna cum in this pretty pussy so many times there’s no way you won’t be round with my pups by the end of the week.”

The words blur together with others like full, knot and perfection. He mumbles them and you try your hardest to reply only coming out with incoherent noises.

“I know sweetheart, it’s too much isn’t it? Is my thick cock too much for such a tight pussy, omega?” He doesn’t expect an answer he knows you’re gone, knows by the look he saw in your eyes before they rolled back into your skull just as your arms gave out.

Kento’s knot swells tighter and tighter with each thrust, he’s heaving as he bucks against you. You’re not any better, body exhausted, slick completely covering the lower part of your body while you dribbled around your Alpha’s fingers. The same fingers he slides down your body, rubbing circles over your clit tighter and tighter like a coil tightening.

Until it snaps.

And it did snap. Your body convulsed with rivets of pleasure washing over you wave after wave. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced, your omega purring with satisfaction. She begins to slip back into the corner of your mind bringing you forward just as Kento moans into the cold air, his knot locking into place as he cums.

Ropes of it, hot and sticky. Filling you up as your body collapses completely onto the bed. “It’s okay sweetheart. The first parts over.” Kento coos wiping the sweat away from his forehead before he lays down, gently adjusting you until you’re both laid side by side. Him behind you, him inside you.

His large hands petting over every part of you, watching as you twitch and gasp at the sensations of his cum pouring into you more and more each second. “You did so good for me omega,” Kento’s lips pressed into your hair, whispering more praises there.

You whimper starting to feel uncomfortably full, “You’re okay sweetheart, sleep now. It won’t be long until the pain starts again, you need as much rest as you can get.” He tells you though you’re too delirious to comprehend each word. “When my knot goes down I’ll grab some snacks and fluids. Don’t worry about a thing omega, Alpha is gonna take care of you.”

And he does. Over the two days your heat lasts Kento does an amazing job of taking care of you. He knots you when you need it even when it started to get sore towards the end. He fed you and made sure you were drinking as much as he could make you.

After everything was over, after the blazing heat had gone you were in pain in a way you’d never known. Everything hurt. Your limbs felt like they had been battered, your head felt heavy and pulsed every time you blinked and your vagina was so bruised you told Kento you’d bite his hand off when he tried to run the wash cloth over in in the bath.

The bath, this was your third one now and you still weren’t feeling any better. It’d been four days since you’d last seen the rest of the pack. You wonder when they will come back but you don’t ask Kento, too afraid he might say never.

“No better?” Kento asks and you hate to squish the hope that is present in his voice but you don’t want to lie. You shake your head no. “Maybe we should call in a doctor. Omegas are supposed to start recovering the moment the heat is over. It’s been two days since then and you’re not feeling any better and I’m not seeing any improvements on your bruising either.”

“No!” You panic gripping onto his arm tightly from where you were sat in the warm bath. Kento frowns in concern coming closing to the edge of the bath, his full attention on you as you speak. “No doctors. I’m not comfortable since J-Jade.” You internally curse that you stutter her name but it wouldn’t have mattered, Kento can see the fear shining in your eyes.

He sighs but nods. The alpha helps you get out of the bath and get dried as he thinks of a solution to the problem. Carrying you over to what Kento keeps calling your bed, he places you down and pulls the covers over your tired body. “What if I call the boys back. Is that okay sweetheart?” He asks as if this isn’t his house. As if it’s yours, as if you pay the bills and your name is on the mortgage.

“Omega?” He questions seeing you started to pick at your nails, anxiety seeping in. Before it happens he stops it, distracts you. “Are you feeling up for that?”

You simply nod because what are you supposed to say? Admit that you have been missing them monumentally and want nothing more than for all your Alphas to be together with you. The pack as one.

“Okay sweetheart, I’ll give them a call while I heat up some soup for you. Try and get some sleep while I do yeah?” He kisses your forehead, brown eyes so full of love it would send you spiralling into a panic attack but you’re too tired for that. You let your eyes slip close as he turns on the rose gold fairy lights above your bed, turning the main light off he leaves the door open and heads downstairs to call the boys.

Maybe when they return you’re start to heal. Only one way to find out.

[p-011-yn]

Chapter 2 Limerence when??? (no rush I'm an impatient little gremlin)

i can also be quite impatient, so i understand lol

i’m not sure when the chapter will be ready to post, but sero’s been working on it. it hopefully won’t be too long, but i can’t give any estimate right now

[bahablastplz]

SKZ Recs (NSFW)

As a chronic fanfic reader, I have a lot of recommendations. So, these are the ones I think about the most. All of them include smut, so they're 18+. Red text indicates fics on AO3. Go support these amazing authors!! Enjoy!! <3

Bang Chan 

The SKZ house @writeonwhiskey (Chan x reader x Hyunjin…SKZ but make it a frat… and also sexy) 

Silent cry @j-0ne25 (Fake dating/friends to lovers, live laugh hurt comfort… emphasis on the hurt) 

Love is intuitive @skzonthebrain (forbidden love and angst… so emotional and loving <3) 

Kinktober Day 8 @dreaming-medium (breeding, best friend, fake dating, so sweet and spicy) 

Summer in Seoul @writeonwhiskey (strangers to lovers, summer love, spicy and romantic) 

Saturday mornings @skzdarlings (Chan/reader/Seungmin where Seungmin is an absolute menace that gets reader in trouble… dom Chan is so good in this one omg) 

It’s cold out @therhythmafterthesummer (roommate Chan is going through his rut… oops there’s more ABO on this list than I realized sorry not sorry) 

Bodyguard: The first guard @skzdarlings (A sequel to the bodyguard, an ongoing work that has elements of enemies to lovers and great, in-depth world building and character development)

However you want it, lover-lover @cbini (you ask your bf Chan to step on you after watching spicy edits of him on tiktok omg)

More than just friends @kwanisms (roommate Chan is entering his rut... he's usually able to control himself but this time you're ovulating. sprinkle some brat taming in here as well and it's so delicious)

Lee Know 

The Experience Project @leeknowsallyoursecrets (Enemies to lovers Lee Know, really good plot and relationship building!) 

Sanguis Limerence @jl-micasea-fics (Vampire OT8, Lee Know x Reader x Chan, SUPER good world building, especially in their sequel with the backstories… I was so invested. And it’s super hot)

Barb Wired Brat @roseykat (BDSM Lee Know with reader going into subspace… awakened things in me) 

Audience @gimmeurtmi (2 min, wet dreams, exhibitionism, degradation… yeah) 

Well Shit @2chopsticks2eyes (Brother’s best friend, inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers and fwb… literally so good) 

Sea May Rise, Sky May Fall @skzms (Lee Know x Reader x Han, complete series, Pirate AU with beautiful world building, in-depth characters and GREAT smut. One of my all time favs)

rsvp @cbini (teasing dom vampire boyfriend Minho and you get the punishment you deserve... brat taming and so so so sexy like it's insane)

Changbin 

 The accidental acquisition of sugar @skzdarlings (accidental sugar daddy Changbin x reader that’s absolutely hilarious with great smut) 

Valentine’s series ‘do you really think you’re in a position to give orders’) @skzdarlings (forbidden love/romeo & juliet style but with gun play… um this was so hot tho) 

Close your eyes (...And count to seven) @MysteryBird (Possessive gang leader bf! Changbin that you’re trying to piss off by sleeping with the other members… 100k+ words and so delicious) 

Hyunjin 

Praise kink Hyunjin @dreaming-medium (A kinktober fic, enemies to lovers detective Hyunjin… absolutely delicious) 

Snowed In @moonjxsung (really artistic, heartfelt, and beautifully written)  

Jury’s still out @straywrds (rivals to hooking up/hate sex… super spicy and hot) 

Dressing down @jl-micasea-fics (shopping trip with best friend Hyunjin turns out spicy ahh the chemistry) 

Four of wands @straywrds (beautifully crafted story I was so immersed in!! witch Hyunjin and sex magick, the characters have so much depth! crazy tension)

Han 

Watch your six  @dreaming-medium (sensory deprivation kinktober ah this is engraved in my brain) 

The same but different @skzdarlings (ahh hanlix fairy au where they’re linked with great world building and is so funny… I maybeee think about this every day) 

Sea May Rise, Sky May Fall @skzms (Lee Know x Reader x Han, complete series, Pirate AU with beautiful world building, in-depth characters and GREAT smut. One of my all time favs)

Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion (SIMP) @leeknowsallyoursecrets (Spin-off series to the experience project! Jisung x reader enemies/academic rivals to lovers in which they’re both anonomously sexting each other on discord without knowing who’s on the other end of the screen!!! top tier level tension)

Felix 

The bodyguard @skzdarlings (Forced proximity, enemies to lovers, had me SUPER invested and made me cry) 

The same but different @skzdarlings (ahh hanlix fairy au where they’re linked with great world building and is so funny… I maybee think about this every day) 

Snap out of it @2baabbies (Felix gives you the option to either go home with your shitty boyfriend or go home with him at the end of the night ahhh!!) 

Seungmin 

Bet on it @skzonthebrain (Academic rivals, enemies to lovers and such good tension/chemistry) 

Audience @gimmeurtmi (2 min, wet dreams, exhibitionism, degradation… yeah) 

Saturday mornings @skzdarlings (Chan/reader/Seungmin where Seungmin is an absolute menace that gets reader in trouble… dom Chan is so good in this one omg) 

Seungmin + hairpulling @straykeedz (kinktober fic, best friend Seungmin finds out you have a thing for hairpulling and can't get you out of his head... this is taken straight from the deepest depths of my fantasies i s2g)

no nut november @gimmeurtmi (this whole nnn series is fantastic but seeing Seungmin lose his composure because of his breeding kink does something for me)

august is a fever @seungminheart (mean dom Seungmin... you don't think he is really into you so you see how far you can push him/I love mean dom Seungmin and I think this fic does it just right)

I.N. 

Lavender boy @hyunsvngs (A/B/O Alpha jeongin… super sexy and great dynamics) 

Clueless @jeongin-lvr (inexperienced big dick I.N. that just wants to make reader feel good… also omg he’s so hot in this pls) 

Better and better @seungminheart (sharing a bed, best friend Jeongin, amazing banter, soft dom Jeongin, brat taming, every trope from my hopes and dreams)

Third leg? @beesspacedotorg (huge dick alpha Innie... some brat taming, great banter and dynamics and sexy)

OT8 

Sharing a bed series @skzdarlings (Best trope ever and they really do it justice) (Chan's is linked but you should read all 8)

Sharing is caring @skzms (Minsung x reader x OT8… really well written spice) 

Fake texts @thefantasyden (I swear these are like crack I read them every single time) 

Kinktober23 @roseykat (one of the first SKZ blogs that I started reading that really brought me deep into the fandom… My fav from this is Table Manners and Bible Studies, and it has a part 2)

All Bark no Bite @doitforbangchan (Main pairing is Chan x Reader with some OT8, it's an ABO au with some really good spice)

Masterlist mxm recs

[captivating-flavors]

enough | sylus

pairing: sylus x non mc reader

prompt: -

summary: you wanted your love to be enough.

words: 1,399

warning(s): angst, mentions of death

a/n: inspired by rereading the limerence/carpe noctem series by @comatosebunny09 but i havent written anything in like 4-5 years so sorry if its bad :3

masterlist

“Boss ran out hours ago and has been awol since.”

You knew exactly where he was the moment Luke called you almost an hour ago. You immediately grabbed your keys and sped over. The trip usually took you forty-five minutes but it was taking you longer today, since it was raining and the roads were slippery.

This was the second time this week and this was what he usually does around this time of the year anyway. Her birthday was coming up and this is what he always does within the weeks leading up to her birthday and after. It’s been two years since her death and you knew that he still blames himself for it.

“It’s my fault she’s gone. I couldn’t save her.”

You’d heard that line countless of times and every time you did the pain cuts through you just the same, but as time went on it became a different kind pain. At first, it was the pain of losing one of your close friends. But as your relationship with him progressed, it became the pain of knowing that you could never even come close to her in his eyes.

You first met Sylus when you were working as a bartender in one of the largest bars in the N109 Zone. You were being harassed and he was about to step in when he thought it was going to get out of hand, but you practically broke the guy’s arm in two places. He saw potential in you as a fighter and wanted to take you under his wing, as somewhat of a partner, someone who could act as a backup and accompany him to the dangerous meetings he frequents. So, he tried to recruit you.

“Sorry, but I’m perfectly content with my current job.” And that was the truth, it was the most well-paying job you had and the benefits were quite generous.

“I’m not asking you to quit your day job, sweetie. I’m simply offering you a… freelance gig, if you will. And don’t worry, I’ll train you and reward you handsomely for your assistance.”

That was how you first got entangled with him, five years ago. You thought that there was no harm in having a side gig, so you agreed to have him train you in his private gym three times a week until he deemed you ready for the missions, as he would often call them.

Somewhere along the way, between the missions, the training sessions and the banters, you found yourself slowly falling for him. The smiles, the flirting, the gifts and the heartwarming words he’d say to you every time you made an improvement during training or when you managed to finish the mission well, the attentiveness, who could ever not fall for that. You never said a word, of course, too scared to ruin the seemingly perfect partner dynamic you’ve got going on.

Two years into being his mission partner, you found yourself slowly getting replaced by her. She was better than you as a mission partner, even you had to admit that. She’s had her hunter training and her evol, there was nothing you could do to ever match up to that.

You’d still hung around the base a lot, and he’d still have you help with menial things here and there, but every time there was a mission he would always take her instead. Every time you went to the base, she was always there. Due to that, you got to know her. She was so bright, bubbly and smart that you instantly felt drawn to her. The two of you became even closer upon knowing that both of your families had been lost to unsolved explosive accidents.

But being around the base a lot also made you aware of other things, like the way he would stare at her with those eyes every time she talks animatedly about something that happened during work. The way he would gently smile and kiss her head every time she falls asleep on the couch, before carrying her to his bedroom.

Even though you knew him first, it hurt to see that she was the one able to evoke such gentle, tender, loving side out of him. But he seemed happier with her, and there was nothing you could do about it. You knew your place, so you backed out, created space, found other things to work on to keep yourself busy. You’d still come over and hung out with them and the twins, but just not as often.

A year into it, the two of them walked into an ambush. It was never supposed to be an easy one, but it wasn’t supposed to be hard either. The people of the N109 Zone were never above playing dirty and so they had a sniper five buildings away. The shot was meant for Sylus, but something went wrong on both parties’ calculations, and it ended up hitting her instead.

At first you only wanted to be there for him, comfort him. Do anything to make him feel better. You honestly never intended to get into bed with him, but you did. It hurt you to have him call you by her name as you did it but you’d do anything to help him. You stupidly thought that it could be a win-win solution, as you could make him feel better and also have him closer to you.

But deep down you knew. You knew you were only a placeholder for her. The both of you had similar hair, eye color and build. You knew the reason why he entangled himself with you was because you reminded him of her. Even though you knew, you still fell for it, digging the hole deeper for yourself. Like an idiot. You knew he couldn’t–wouldn’t–ever reciprocate your feelings, but you still genuinely cared for him. Hence, why you have been putting up with this for a year and a half.

You got out of the car and ran past the cemetery gates. You’ve traversed through these grounds countless of times, so the rain and darkness of the night was not an issue. You soon found him in the exact spot you knew he would be at. You stood in front of his sitting form, holding out the umbrella over him, looking down at him and it just breaks your heart knowing that he’s still in agony even after all these times and that there’s nothing you can do to help him ease his pain.

“Sylus.”

He had his back to the side of her tombstone, unmoving. He barely glanced at you.

“…”

“It’s raining. We should head back.”

“…”

“Come on, let’s get you in the car.” You said as you grabbed his arm, in an effort to pull him up and towards the car.

Surprisingly, today he silently complied, unlike when you also had to do this two days ago. The moment he was up and leaning over to you, you could clearly smell the alcohol on him.

‘No wonder he’s being compliant this time,’ You thought to yourself.

You walked the both of you towards the car and put him in the passenger’s seat before closing the door and moving over to the other side of the car, taking the driver’s seat. The both of you were drenched, so you grabbed the towels you’ve stashed on your backseat and handed one over to him with one hand, as you were drying your hair with the other.

“Here. You’ll catch a cold.” Seeing as he still wasn’t responding, you draped it over his head. He weakly raises his hand and starts to rub the towel over his wet head of hair.

“… I miss her.”

“I know. Me too, Sylus. Me too.”

You started the engine and drove straight to base. The drive went on without him saying anything else and the moment you guys arrived, you realized Sylus had fallen asleep, so you had Luke and Kieran help you get him to his room, where you changed him out of his wet clothes before tucking him in. You brushed a stray strand of hair away from his sleeping face and took a seat on the side of his bed, still caressing his soft head of hair.

“I love you, Sylus. I wish that was enough to help you.”

-

part 2 (sort of): away

[bedupolker]

Whatever happened to Lust & Limerence?

They were the protagonists of a short comic series which culminated with them dying, but here's a low effort one-off outside of that just for you: